#thanks for the tag rae

[runraerun]

Steddie Amnesia Ficlet: 2/3

-> Part 1 | Part 3 | AO3

cw: more head trauma/concussed!Steve discussions.

Steve hears Eddie call after him, but he doesn’t stop—he can’t face it. Not right now, anyway. Not when his eyes are stinging and his heart is pounding in his ears, each pulse more painful than the last. His legs take him to the building he’s supposed to go into, fueled purely by muscle memory. Not brain memory, of course, because nothing up there works properly anymore, apparently.

The Brain Injury Recovery Center.

It’s where Eddie expects him to go. He’ll catch Steve if he goes in, or he’ll wait for Steve by the doors until he comes back out—both options involve facing Eddie after Steve had made a total idiot of himself. Both feel utterly mortifying.

So he ducks into the alleyway beside the familiar brick building instead, just to catch his breath. It takes Steve longer than the average bear to sort out his feelings now, after all. Jesus, who’s he kidding? Everything seems to take him longer.

Steve feels hot tears streak down his cheeks before he angrily scrubs a sleeve over them. Of course Eddie isn’t his boyfriend. Eddie’s funny and cool and he’s in a band and he lights up every damn room he walks into—and Steve… well, maybe Steve was something a few years ago when he was in high school, and maybe he was even something before his accident, but now…

There’s a sharp clapping noise that sounds like thunder. A door slamming, Steve’s brain sluggishly supplies. It’s followed by shouting.

“Steve? Steve!” Eddie calls from somewhere on the street.

Steve’s heart feels like it’s going to fall out of his ass. His face is probably still blotchy and wet, his breathing hasn’t evened out yet and his eyes are still leaking like a goddamn faucet. He’s pathetic.

Can’t let Eddie see him like this…

He ducks behind a metal garbage bin, careful not to let anything but the bottom of his sneakers touch the sticky looking surfaces around him. It stinks, like rot.

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice echoes off of the alleyway walls. Steve claps a hand around his mouth to muffle out any of the pathetic sounds that seem determined to escape from him. So much of his body just does whatever the hell it feels like now. Out of Steve’s control, like everything else.

For a few, tense seconds, there’s silence. Eddie’s listening for him, maybe. Steve shuts his eyes and waits him out.

It feels like an eternity before he hears Eddie’s hurried, retreating footsteps, continuing his shouting for Steve. He sounds almost as panicked as Steve feels. Almost.

Steve gives a noisy, wet sniff and does one final scrub of his face before getting to his feet. He starts walking.

As he goes deeper into the alleyway, he thinks back on all the things he’s been wrong about. The fact that Eddie had some of his band t-shirts mixed in with Steve’s clothes… well, that was because they were both guys who wore about the same size, and Eddie left his shit everywhere. It’s no wonder some of his stuff got mixed into their laundry. And the times Eddie’s driven him places? That’s just… what friends do, Steve supposes. And all those times Eddie made Steve laugh? Made him feel like the center of the universe? Well, that’s just… Eddie. He must make everyone feel that way. It’s like his super power. But it isn’t romantic… It doesn’t mean anything more than Eddie being a magnetic person.

Steve is just so stupid. Painfully so.

He blinks as the sun hits him. He must’ve reached the other side of the alleyway.

Steve cups a hand over his eyes and grimaces. His migraine wasn’t backing down. He sighs. Time to head back.

Steve turns back into the alleyway he’d emerged from, only he’s about halfway through when he realizes the color of the buildings on either side of him are wrong. They’re brown on one side, painted green on the other. That isn’t right…

His heart jackrabbits in his chest, but he keeps walking forward. Maybe he’ll recognize the street once he’s back on the other side.

But when he gets there, it’s as unfamiliar to him as the alleyway. Steve turns, looking up and down the road to see if he could spot Eddie, or his van, or the Center. But there’s nothing.

And when someone shoulder checks him, Steve supposes he was sort of asking for it, standing in the middle of the sidewalk like that. He apologizes, but it’s too late. The person’s already out of range to hear him.

It’s as if everyone else is on fast forward while Steve’s stuck on pause. The world keeps moving along while all he seems to be able to do is watch it go by.

Why would he ever think someone as dynamic and spirited as Eddie would hitch his horse onto Steve’s busted up, barely mobile cart?

Stupid, stupid, stupid…

He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and wills himself not to start blubbering again like a goddamn baby. His life is already one big, painful lesson in humility as it is, he doesn’t need to wallow in it.

Steve keeps walking. Figures he’ll spot something, or someone familiar to him eventually. The pounding in his head’s eased off to a dull ache, at least. Maybe there was something to this exercise and fresh air thing the doctors were always going on about, after all…

The thing is though, Steve doesn’t spot anything familiar. Not even vaguely so, and it’s not until the streetlights turn on that he realizes he’d spent the majority of the day wandering around the streets like some lost dog that managed to slip his leash.

It’s cold too, and all he’s got on is jeans and a polo. It’s October, isn’t it? No wonder he’s got goosebumps all up and down his arms.

Then, he finally spots something familiar; a phone booth. Steve breathes a sigh of relief. He’d just call his parents. They’d come pick him up.

He gets the booth and lifts the receiver before he blanks. A quarter. He’d need that. Duh, Harrington. So he hangs up the phone and pats his pockets until he finds a wallet, but all that’s inside of it are a couple of crisp bills. He’d need to break one.

Steve turns, scans the street until he spots a well lit, invitingly warm looking diner. The joint looks so damn cozy that he forgets to make sure the street is clear before he steps out into the middle of it.

Tires screech, harmonizing with the horn that’s blasting at him—Steve flinches, reaching up to cover his head and braces for impact.

To his great relief, the hit never comes. Which, thank fuck. He can’t afford anymore accidents. As it is Robin’s threatened to make him wear a helmet full-time.

Steve doesn’t listen to whatever the person yells at him, he just hurries to get the hell out of his way of the other moving vehicles.

“Smooth, Harrington. Real smooth.” He mutters to himself as he catches his breath.

He pushes the door to the diner open with shaking hands, but it’s blissfully peaceful inside, and he can actually feel his insides unclench as he stands inside of it.

“Sit anywhere, hun, I’ll be right with you.” A woman’s voice tells him. Steve nods and slips into the nearest booth overlooking the street. Watches the cars go by. There’s even a couple of cop cars, sirens blaring, lights flashing. Steve wonders briefly what sort of emergency they’re rushing off to when the waitress comes to his table.

“What can I get you, handsome?” She asks, cheery and warm like the rest of the diner.

“Uh…” Steve frowns, taking a few seconds to process the question, “nothing. I’m just waiting for my parents to come pick me up.”

The waitress taps the side of the notepad. “Well you gotta order something, hun, or you can’t stay here.”

Steve wants to stay here. It’s warm and smells fucking amazing, like “pancakes?”

She waitress smirks. “Yeah, we got those. You want a stack?”

“Yeah, please.” Steve smiles back, laughing along with the waitress like he’s in whatever joke that’s currently so amusing to her. “I’m starving.”

“You want some coffee too, to help you sober up, maybe?”

“Oh, I’m not drunk.” He huffs out a little self deprecating laugh, “I wish. No, I—uh, my meds, they’re the kind that you can��t mix with alcohol. Coffee too. Bummer, right? Yeah… But, uh, it is what it is, I guess—so…”

He can feel it. The way his mind so often wanders. He’s lost his train. His track. He frowns, eyes drifting towards the street again, watching the headlights zip by.

“…so just the pancakes then?” The waitress asks, jolting his train back onto its rails. His attention snaps back onto her.

“Yeah, pancakes. Sure.” Steve flashes her what he hopes is a charming smile.

She returns his smile and leaves him be, and he lets himself relax. Props his head up on a fist and watches life go on for everyone else but him.

He gets his pancakes, and some juice too that he doesn’t remember ordering, but hey, that’s nothing new. And damn, the pancakes taste even better than they smell. He needs to remember the name of this place so he can come back with everyone. What did the doctors say? Repeat something in your head over and over until it sticks. Repetition. Repetition, repetition, repetition…

It’s around the time his fork hits an empty plate that one of the police cars stops in front of the diner window, lights on, but the sirens are off now.

Hopper steps out.

Huh. That’s weird. Steve wonders what sort of emergency he’s here for.

When Hopper enters through the glass doors, the bell hung over the entry way rings out pleasantly. An angel getting their wings.

His eyes land on Steve and the older man sighs, shoulders falling. Relief, Steve recognizes. Hopper pulls the radio from his belt and says something into it before stomping over.

Then it clicks.

Oh. Steve’s the emergency.

He feels his face heat up. The handful of other patrons scattered across the diner are all looking at him.

“There you are.” Hopper sighs, gruff and exasperated.

Steve sinks into his seat, just a little. “Shit. I fucked up, didn’t I?”

“Just a little.” Hopper chuckles dryly. He takes off his hat and slips into the booth across from Steve, apparently not in any sort of hurry now that he’s found the runaway dog.

Steve runs a hand through his hair, a nervous tic he’s developed. “Sorry.”

“Nah, don’t be sorry. Just strangle Munson for me when you see him next, will ya?” Hopper drops his hat onto the table and waves the waitress down. He orders a coke.

Munson. Eddie.

The memory of how he made a total and utter fool of himself comes rushing back, slamming down onto him like one of those cartoon anvils. Jesus, how did he forget that..?

Suddenly the pancakes aren’t sitting so good in his gut. Feels like he’s gonna ralph.

“Was he freaked out? Eddie, I mean.” Steve asks, cautiously approaching the question. Did Eddie say anything about why…?

“Yeah, him and Robin both. Then the kids found out too—don’t ask me how. I suspect the curly-haired one has an illegal transmitter.” Hopper leans back in the booth as the waitress drops off his coke. He takes the straw out and drinks it right from the glass. Steve waits for him to finish, doesn’t say a word.

When Hopper puts the glass down, Steve just sits and watches the way the drops of condensation run down the cup, distorting around the fingerprints Hopper’s left. “Anyway, they’re all out on their bikes looking for you too.”

Hopper smiles fondly, like it’s something charming and not… pathetic. “You got a lot of people that care about you, kid.

Steve swallows around the lump in his throat, and nods. Tries for a grin, but it’s weak. Probably wouldn’t fool anyone, much less a cop. “Yeah, I’m a real lucky guy.”

Hopper looks like he wants to say something else, but he just takes a breath and nods. Steve’s grateful he doesn’t argue. Doesn’t think he has the energy in him right now to fend off the ‘but look how far you’ve come!’ ‘Your speaking’s gotten so much better!’ ‘It could be a whole heck of a lot worse!’ comments.

“What do you say we get you home? Unless you want dessert? My treat.” Hopper offers with a grin.

“No, I just want to go to sleep,” he says, before remembering his manners, “thanks, though.”

“Alright then.” Hopper glances down at the cleared plate of pancakes and the half finished coke before sliding out of the booth, followed by Steve. He takes out wallet, but Steve beats him to it. He tosses down a few bills, hoping it’s enough. Hopper doesn’t comment, so it must be.

The drive back to his and Robin’s apartment is a solemn one, but it’s strangely peaceful. Hopper’s got the heat on full blast due to Steve’s lack of coat, and the motion of the vehicle along with the darkened sky leaves Steve feeling wrung out in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time.

In fact, when they finally arrive, Hopper’s gotta shake his shoulder to wake him up.

“We’re here.” He rumbles out in his gruff baritone.

Steve lifts his head from his folded arm and looks up at the modest building. He wonders how far they live from the pancake diner. If they could walk there, sometime, him and Robin and Eddie.

But then Steve realizes he never got the name of it. He feels his insides sink. Another thing lost to him.

“Thanks, Hop,” Steve gives Hopper a nod and what he’s sure is a tired smile. “I’ll, uh—I’ll try not to run off again.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it.” Hopper says, diplomatically. “Let me walk you in.”

Steve cringes at the idea. He’s grateful for Hop and all he’s done—especially the part about not making him feel like a complete dummy—but he just wants this all to be over and for things to revert back to how they were. And at this point he’s so close he can taste it.

Steve busies his hands by undoing his seat belt. “No, it’s okay, really—“

Hopper looks like he’s about to argue but Robin damn near crashes out through the building’s illuminated front doors. She makes a b-line for Steve, who’s just barely gotten out of the cruiser.

She wraps her arms around him and doesn’t let go. “Steve! Holy shit, you scared me so bad. I’ve been out of my mind!”

Steve’s arms are trapped at an awkward angle, but he reaches around her as best he can, arms like flippers. “I’m okay. Seriously. Look, not even a scratch.”

She doesn’t laugh. Just squeezes him harder. Truthfully, Steve doesn’t know if he’s okay, but it’s what everyone always seems to want to hear from him, so he says it often.

“I’ve already killed Eddie like three times.” Robin murmurs into Steve’s chest, before finally pulling away. Her eyes are bloodshot, her nose stuffy, like she’s been crying.

“It’s not his fault, Rob.” Steve’s brows pinch together as he frowns, “is he…”

But when Steve looks up towards their building, he can see Eddie standing in the doorframe, his dark silhouette illuminated by the entry way lights. He’s still as a statue, holding open the door for them, arm extended out into the cold autumn night. Steve’s insides squirm.

“You got him from here, Buckley?” Hopper calls from his cruiser and Robin ducks to meet his eye before giving him a thumbs up. She loops her arm around his waist and they start towards their place—towards Eddie.

Before they reach him, Steve keeps his voice down as he asks, “Can I just go to bed? I don’t—I can’t talk about it right now.”

“Okay.” She nods, “I get it.”

But she doesn’t, not really.

Steve avoids eye contact with Eddie when they finally reach the building, and before he can say anything, Robin interrupts. “He’s going straight to bed. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Eddie says in a small voice. He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t even follow them back up to their apartment. Maybe Eddie’s even relieved he doesn’t need to confront it tonight. Maybe they won’t ever confront it… maybe he’s hoping Steve’s brain will take care of everything and make him forget. Make it like it never happened. Part of Steve wishes—

No. He doesn’t wish that. His brain’s already functioning at half capacity, he doesn’t want to thank it for fucking up, even if it might make Steve’s life easier.

Whatever Eddie’s expression is, Steve doesn’t look back to find out. He keeps his eyes on his feet, focusing on putting one step ahead of the other.

When they finally arrive at Steve’s matchbox sized bedroom, he doesn’t even bother changing into pajamas, or even out of his jeans for that matter. He just falls into his bed, pulls a pillow over his head and wills himself to let go of the day and surrender to the sweet pull of blissful unconsciousness.

🫣 Oops, I made it worse. But I promise the Eddie and Steve confrontation is in the next part! 🙏 This is tagged angst with a happy ending for a reason.

Tag List: (message me to add or remove yourself.)

@morallyundefined @estrellami-1 @ollieolive @mugloversonly @wheneverfeasible @steddiefication @what-if-a-dragon @wrenisfangirling @yesdangerpls @flustratedcas @scarletyeager @snowstar2368 @starxlark @sofadofax @lawrencebshoggoth @stevesworldxx @jizzing-bastard-600and69 @bambibiest @queenie-ofthe-void @lilpomelito @bananahoneycomb @kaspurrcat @deadwhiterosesstuff @dame-zoom-a-lot @3vilpurpl3d0t @loudmariachibands @steddieislife

[illyrianbitch]

are we still friends ate tf down honestly let me pay your rent for the year? az needs a taste of his own medicine (and a bitch slap. on the lips.)

anyways- do you have any fic recos please! I trust anything you recommend xx

bae im so sry this got lost and this took me so long, lowk i was hoping i would have more time to read n write out all my fun recs but i've been getting railed by work and not reading at all so lemme send you to some of my fellow writers who always have such good fics (and not only one-shots, such amazing series too) <3 :

@utterlyazriel @itsswritten @writingcroissant @milswrites @prythianpages

@m4tthewmurd0ck @acoazlove @inkedinshadows @pellucid-constellations @tarotsoul

@florencemtrash @acourtofwhatthefuck @azrielhours @assriels @historiaxvanserra

there are so many other amazing writers and works but my brain is so dead so anyone feel free to add any recs or plug your own works <3 mwuah

[roukabi]

I know it's basic on my end to go w/ a wolf but hear me out! he runs with a pack, he has a lot of stamina and can survive several harsh climates, and he's a lone wolf but only somewhat by choice! It fits!

[ice-knife]

could you live with this? / there will be no tenderness / no tenderness 🎶

second oc kiss week 2025 work is a go! this time featuring my very own little bastard Capella, and @thelordofblades’ slightly larger bastard Kai! you ever get so mad at somebody you don’t know if you’re gonna kill them or make out with them?

[lifeisabitch-butimcute]

tell everyone one fact about you, one unpopular opinion you have and your top song on your on repeat playlist and then spread this to five followers you love ❤️

I was JUST about to send this one to you 💀 I answered karfy’s but I’m doing another one for you and for the love of the game 🙂‍↕️

Fun fact: I used to work in web design and still have the coding skills of a toddler

Unpopular opinion: I eat tomatoes off the vine like apples in the summer I love them so so much but I am surrounded by tomato haters irl 😔

More songs from my on repeat!

[stinkrascal]

here is my dragon age worldstate remade in picrew, thank you for the tag @druidgroves 🌞

morwen tabris, rogue + assassin + ♡ alistair / eden hawke, sword and shield warrior + berserker + ♡ isabela / elisen lavellan, mage + knight enchanter + ♡ solas / vanna mercar, two-handed warrior + slayer + ♡ emmrich

picrew here!!

[miss-couch-potato]

Found footage of the Blackpool Pleasure Beach Hardluck Bears show!!!

Here's all the footage of the hlbs

And here's the full video. Insane how that video is 8 years old and no one had found it.

[chanxoxyeol]

December 2024 Receiptify 💖

Tagged by @we-survive-endlessly 😘

I’m honestly not surprised about this, but I did gasp when I first saw it because I realized I’m probably insane. Idgaf though cause their music is so fun and they’re so pretty and I love fun and I love pretty people.

I don’t know many people on here to tag but I do have a few that popped into my brain so here is that small list: @lostintemptation @belledamn @woobyun @miramizar @geminitiger & @mehddakzricecake 🥰💕

(Obviously you are not obligated to do this but if you feel like indulging, I would love to see)

[missmisdemeanor]

[honeylemonbutte]

Rules: Make a poll of your favourite female characters (no limits - as many or as little as you want) and see which your followers like the most!

tagged by @grapecaseschoices Thank you! I started thinking of my favorite female characters and then I couldn't stop. I tried not to put too many obscure women, but some of these ladies I just can't leave out (I did actually weed out most of the more niche ladies and put them in the tags)

tagging: @littlemissbumblebee, @alexeizzo, @agentark, @thisghosts-obsessions-again, @beatrizamante, @renru

please tell me your favorite girls in poll format

[eskawrites]

listen. @sweepy-stringbean said 'we need the recovery scene after the vecna'd moss back stab' in the tags of a post and i was helpless to do anything but drop everything and write it. so here you go. tenlark sequel to this.

-

If Tenar ever wakes up, Lark is going to kill her.

When Tenar wakes up. Because she is going to wake up. She has to, because she trusted Lark to do a job, and Lark doesn’t think she can do it if Tenar is gone. Because Lark is shit at this, was never meant for it, will never be anything close to half the leader Tenar can so effortlessly be.

But mostly because Lark thinks her own heart will stop beating alongside Tenar’s, and then they’ll all be ruined.

She imagines it, late at night, sitting at Tenar’s bedside after she’s slipped back into the ward once the healers have closed the doors for the night. She thinks about what it would feel like, walking around with a still, dead heart. It would be heavy, she thinks. Perhaps it would sink further into her chest, weighing her shoulders down, pressing against her lungs and making it hard to breathe. She wonders if it would start to rot. If her stagnant blood would turn black, if her skin would grow ashy to match. She would be forever in mourning, her veins thick and black like a widow’s garment.

-

“Queen Regent,” Arren greets her when he walks into her room one morning. She glares at him, and he grins and waves the tray in his hands. “I brought you food. The servants say you aren’t eating.”

“I can get my own food.”

“A queen should never have to serve herself.”

“Will you shut up, Arren?”

He sighs, smile fading, and she would apologize if she wasn’t so busy fighting back sudden tears.

“I mean it all with love,” he says, as if she doesn’t know that. She reaches up and rubs her eyes. “And you really do need to eat.”

“What I need is to find Moss.” She curls her hand into a fist and lets it fall to the table. “What I need is to figure out what he’s planning. What I need is for the council to make themselves useful and aid Ged’s research.”

“Lark—”

“What I need is to get a hold of myself so I can do the job she left for me. No, fuck that, what I need is her.” She looks up at Arren, not bothering to fight the tears anymore. “I can’t do it, Arren. Why did she do this? Why did she choose me?”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“It should’ve been you.”

“Oh no,” he says, laughing weakly. “I’d be screwing it all up, and you’d be telling me everything I’m doing wrong in precise detail.”

“But I can’t do this,” she says, a sob breaking through her words.

Arren walks over, sets the tray down, and places his hands on her shoulders. “She wouldn’t have chosen you if you couldn’t do it.”

-

“There are people claiming to have seen Moss in the eastern outskirts,” Ged says, every word heavy with exhaustion. “But the guards say it’s only rumors.”

“What do you think?” Lark asks.

“I think that, if the guards thought there was any chance she was there, they would have already tried to arrest her.”

She nods. “We never should have told the people it was Moss.”

“We couldn’t lie to them.”

“I know,” she breathes. It’s why she had given the order to spread the word.

“At least now she can’t hurt anyone else. If someone spots her, we’ll know about it.”

Lark shakes her head. “If only we had that kind of luck.”

-

“And Lady Fina has offered her best scouts to comb the outer villages,” Lark says, rolling up the parchment that contained Ged’s notes from that afternoon’s council meeting. “That’s tripled our patrols while maintaining a strong guard presence to protect the people. As soon as he makes a move, we’ll know it.”

She pauses and looks down at Tenar. Her face is frighteningly pale. Her hair is wild against the pillows, more unruly than she ever lets it get. Lark reaches out as if to brush it into place, but she stops herself and pulls her hand back.

“Of course, he hasn’t made a move,” she whispers. “We know he’s planning something, we just have no idea what. My best guess is that he—he’s waiting for the news of your death.”

She watches Tenar’s face, praying to every god she knows for some small movement. Some recognition of her voice. Nothing comes. Lark closes her eyes, then opens them and looks at her again.

“I’m doing my best, Tenar. I will do everything I can, for as long as I can. But I really, really don’t want to do it without you.”

Tenar remains still, silent, so far away and so close to the end that Lark can’t even see the rise and fall of her chest with her breathing. She does reach out this time, just to press her fingers to Tenar’s wrist and feel her heart beating. It’s quiet and frantic, but it hasn’t given out yet.

“Please,” she whispers, letting her touch linger just this once. “Please, Tenar. Please don’t leave me. Not now. Not ever.”

-

Many people in the palace would say that Queen Tenar has no temper. They say her patience is limitless, her demeanor unshakably calm.

Lark knows better. Tenar has a temper—an impressive one, too. She just has a much longer fuse, and a much stronger ability to hide her anger when it finally ignites.

Lark…doesn’t.

“Lord Vayne, would you quit blowing hot air out of that useless head of yours and listen to what I am telling you. Moss is not an enemy of the palace, and even if she was, sending bounty hunters after her would only serve to get them killed.”

“The men I am speaking of are the best in the land. They—”

“And Moss has helped save this kingdom when every other force at your disposal proved utterly useless. However talented your hired brutes are, they will not best her. Now sit down and hold your tongue while the rest of us discuss actual ideas.”

He glares at her, but he sits. Lark glares back, feeling completely hollow even in her triumph. She looks around the table. Everyone else is looking back at her, faces carefully blank. Arren catches her eye and winks.

The door bursts open. Arren jumps to his feet and draws his sword. Lark grabs her bow from her chair, but she recognizes the guard before she can aim.

“Queen Regent,” he says, ignoring everyone else in the room. “I’m sorry to interrupt—I just came from the ward. They’re asking for you. They say it’s urgent.”

Lark dashes across the room. Someone shouts after her, protesting her behavior or reminding her of some stupid formality she should follow before leaving the meeting, but she doesn’t really hear it. She doesn’t hear anything but her steps pounding down the hall, and her blood rushing in her ears, and the guard’s voice, apologizing again for interrupting, telling her he isn’t sure, they just sent him to collect her.

They reach the ward. The guard stops, but Lark doesn’t. She shoves through the doors. She races past the guards posted in the front room. She slams her way into the room with Tenar’s bed, and then she freezes, because all she can see is healers gathered around the bedside, and white sheets piled at the foot of the bed, and she realize that she doesn’t know why they called for her, and maybe she doesn’t want to know.

But then she hears a small voice, beloved and familiar even if it’s never sounded so frail.

“Lark?”

One of the healers turns, shuffling to the side, and Lark can see her at last. Tenar is still lying down, still terrifyingly pale, but her eyes are open. Her lips are pulling into a weak smile. She breathes in, and Lark can see it in the rise of her chest. She’s alive.

She’s alive.

And Lark remembers, suddenly, how furious she is with her.

Tenar’s mouth quirks up, like she can read Lark’s mind. Maybe she can. Lark wouldn’t be surprised, actually. Tenar glances up at the healers around her bed.

“Leave us for a moment.”

They all nod their assent and walk away, leaving the room empty save for Lark and Tenar and the heavy silence stretching between them.

“Lark,” Tenar breathes, but Lark shakes her head. Tenar lifts a hand toward her. Her fingers shake with the effort. “You can say whatever you want, and I’m sure I’ll deserve it. But come here first, please.”

“You almost died.” Her own words hit her like a blow, but the almost is what lingers, warming her chest slowly but surely. She closes her eyes. She steps closer. “I—I thought—”

“I am here,” Tenar breathes. Her fingers brush against Lark’s, and Lark blindly intertwines them. “I have not left you.”

“But you did.”

The warmth turns to anger, to rage, and she clings to it, holds it close until it is blinding and painful, preventing her from thinking too much about I have not left you and how good it threatens to make her feel. She opens her eyes, and Tenar’s gaze is understanding. Sympathetic. It’s easy, suddenly, to only see the rage.

“You did leave me,” she says. “No, not just that, you named me Queen. Me! Are you out of your mind?”

“No.”

“You are a fool, Your Highness!”

“I disagree, Queen Regent.”

“Shut up!” Her voice cracks, and she almost laughs. She breathes out, and it sounds more like a cry. “I’m so mad at you, Tenar.”

“I know,” Tenar says softly. “And I’m sorry. I truly am. But it was the right choice to make, Lark. I know it was, and I think you do, too.”

Lark does, but that doesn’t stop her from shaking her head. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”

Tenar takes her hand and pulls it up to her face. Lark moves with her, pliant, obedient, willing to be anything Tenar needs her to be, always.

“You’ve done beautifully,” Tenar whispers.

“You don’t even know what’s happened in your absence.”

“But I know you.” Tenar closes her eyes.

She’s sweating, Lark realizes. Exhausted. In pain, probably. Lark leans closer and brushes her hair back. Tenar smiles softly, and Lark feels relief crash so brutally through her that she thinks she might be sick.

“You would have done better,” Lark says, softer now. “Lord Vayne hates me, you know.”

“Lord Vayne hates everyone. Whatever you said to him, he probably deserved it.” Tenar opens her eyes. “I really am sorry. I will—they’ve already told me I must stay overnight, but I can call the council here, I will catch up on everything, I will—”

“You will rest,” says Lark. She runs her fingers through Tenar’s hair again. “I will do everything you need me to do, for however long you need me to do it. And you will rest for as long as your healers tell you to.”

Tenar’s smile turns sly. “Want to bet?”

“Against you? Never.” Lark swallows. “But my point stands. I’ve sworn my oath to you, and to this kingdom. I will be your regent for as long as you need me.”

“Even if you hate it?”

“Well. I do get to tell your council what to do, which is fun.”

“You can tell them what to do anyway.”

“Yes, but now they have to actually listen.” She grins as Tenar laughs softly. But then they both sober, their eyes meeting again. Lark swallows. “I’m glad you’re back, Tenar.”

“I’m not done yet.” Tenar squeezes her fingers. “And I wouldn’t leave you.”

“You keep saying that,” Lark breathes.

“I do not say things I do not mean.”

“Believe me, I know.”

“I know you do. Allow me to prove it to you anyway.”

Lark realizes how close they are, foreheads nearly touching. Tenar pulls at her hand, eyes wide, searching—begging for something in lieu of a command she doesn’t dare give.

As if Lark has ever wanted anything but to obey. She closes the distance, feeling Tenar’s smile when their lips meet, hearing her quiet sigh as Lark cradles her head and kisses her. They part after only a moment, and the light in Tenar’s eyes brings tears to Lark’s.

“What is it?” Tenar breathes. Her thumb strokes over Lark’s palm, pressing gently, grounding her. “My dear Lark, what’s wrong?”

Lark lets out a short, wet laugh. There are so many terrible things waiting for them both just outside the door, but Lark finds that the only answer she can give is to shake her head and lean in again. Tenar kisses her gently, happily. This time when they part, she brings her hand up to cup Lark’s cheek and keep her close.

“Stay here a while,” Tenar says. “Lie with me, and tell me all I’ve missed, and we’ll figure out what comes next together.”

What can Lark do but obey? She follows Tenar’s gentle pull on her hand until she’s lying beside her, arms wrapped carefully around her, and she lets Tenar ask question after question about what has happened, and she feels that—finally, for just a moment—the world is right again.

[sunminshine]

Tagged by @we-survive-endlessly to post the top 10 songs on my On Repeat playlist on Spotify 🎧

This isn't... Inaccurate. I also haven't had much on repeat EXCEPT for The Beaches so I think Spotify is just trying to pull some historical data 😅

oh gosh tagging @baekhyunnybyun @ambivartence and anyone else who wants to join!

[chericheribaby]

hi hi 10 and 41 for the ask game pls!

hi luci!!

10. Favorite trope/element/scenario in fic?

I love a good action sequence, like give me the fight, the fast-paced action descriptions, the intense dialogue, the "we are not going to make it" moment!!! the thrill of the action you know.......

41. Favorite fluffy tropes?

domestic things UGHHH like give me them folding clothes and making dinner and grocery shopping GIVE IT TO ME NOW!!!!

fanfic ask game!

[residentrookie]

hi reg <3 3, 5, 32, 49 for the ask game pls!!!

hi rae ❤���‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 how are u queen

3. do i leave the window open at night?

no!! idk it might just be me but i don’t think that’s as common in the states as it is in other parts of the world. my windows also just like don’t open in a casual way so :// artificial air for me!

5. what color are my eyes?

they change weirdly enough!! but they go back and forth between green and blue and grey depending on what i’m wearing!!

32. do i have a favorite towel?

no :( i’ve never invested in nice enough towels to play favorites.

49. can i skip rocks?

no 😭 since we’re airing out my faults, i can’t whistle either 😭😭

this ask game

[lifeisabitch-butimcute]

17, 19, 20, 41 for the ask game pls :-)

hi hi!! of course!

17. are you farsighted or nearsighted?

horribly farsighted, i fear 😭 i wear contacts now but i was a glasses kid growing up and i looked like tina belcher with my prescription :/

19. imagine we’re at a sleepover, would you paint my nails?

yes!! but i'm horrible at it so prepare for there to be nail polish everywhere 😅

20. do you say soda or pop?

i grew up saying pop (IL native) but now i'm in NY and I keep catching myself saying soda...so i'm a mutant now

41. how do you take your coffee?

i LOVE a latte of any kind, but if i have to choose a way to take plain hot coffee, i'm mixing in hot cocoa mix and oat milk :)

weirder asks

[moeblob]

Liv (blue, not mine) and Elnae (red, mine) being cuties together!!!

Liv is telling El about some contraption she's working on and El is like "I don't fully understand but the enthusiasm is way cuter than listening to my boss so I'm happy to listen".