#And THEN THEY'RE STILL TOO LONG

[kakusu-shipping]

More B-Sides for @probably-some-goat’s Self-Insert Fanfic The Dragon and The Fox

This one got way longer than the last one, but I still kept it three stories to a chapter, so everyone’s just gonna have to deal with it. Also I gave each one a title.

In which we are experiencing the mundane

-Sharp cold, sharp stare, sharp blade-

Genji’s deadly stare stabbed across the market alley the four man Shambali crew had found themselves in, landing directly on Emile who was committing the heinous crime of standing within proximity to the ninja’s little brother, while Genji himself was stuck across the way from them besides his Master, Zenyatta, who was currently complimenting the craftsmanship of a quilt.

Emile had grown rather use to Genji’s protective stare at this point, and despite the Ninja’s seemingly endless collection of sharp objects on his person at all times, the human couldn’t help himself from wanting to see how far he could push it.

So here they stood, in their split teams of two, looking over bedding and blankets and pillows for Zayne, who had spent nearly an entire month now in what use to lay claim as Emile’s bed and room.

The plan was simple, locate a comfortable blanket and pillow set for Zayne that can still fit into Emile’s bedroom, as it is the only room in Master Mondatta’s house with proper heating (a fireplace).

Emile rocked on his heels to glance over at the beautifully knit fabrics Zayne was currently touching with the tender stroke of someone who cared more about a blanket’s texture than it’s warmth. He glanced again cross the way at Genji, who had shuffled only slightly down the road to keep close to Zenyatta, who was known to wander and get lost in the market if left to his own devices for too long.

A smirk crossed the mechanic’s face as he leaned barely a centimeter closer to the short man beside him. Genji’s shoulder’s tensed and his glare sharpened ten fold. If he could explode Emile with his mind, he would. This only encouraged him.

Emile gave Zayne’s shoulder a little nudge, the slightest brush, just bump enough to get his attention before reaching around him to point at another blanket, saying something just soft enough for Genji not to hear.

Oh how it burned the ninja up. His face was no doubt red under mask and fabrics he cloaked himself in to hide what human he had left. He knew Emile would never do anything bad to his brother, the little man was a monk blatantly and unabashedly in love with Zenyatta. He couldn’t hurt a fly. And yet Genji’s hand rested on a blade he’d put to his hip as he continued to stare.

“My student,” Zenyatta’s voice flinched Genji out of his spiteful concentration, the monk was holding two soft blankets, one white and one brown, “Do you think he would like these? They are rather soft.”

Genji glanced between the two blankets, the white one was covered in a hand dyed pattern of snow foxes, the brown one had one large image of a musk deer on it. Genji shifted how he stood to better face his master, with his left arm hidden from the view of his brother, he tenderly rested his hand on the fabric. It was soft. It reminded him of the blanket they’d shared as children, covered in a childish dinosaur pattern, the perfect amount of warmth for Hanamura winters.

Zenyatta tilted his head slightly as Genji gripped the blanket in his hand, a weak shaking to his grip. Before the monk could press his student, a call came from behind the ninja, the other group approached rather loudly.

“Winner winner!!” Emile shouted, as he and Zayne ran in tandem. Genji quickly hid himself in his robes once more and swiftly turned around. Emile and Zayne ran practically cheek to cheek, wrapped together in a thick futon draped over them, the two’s cheeks and noses red from the cold.

Zayne broke from the warmth of what is meant to be used as a mattress and ran up to Zenyatta, taking hold of the white blanket, “It’s adorable! And so soft. Where’d you find this?”

Zenyatta chuckled and began to show Zayne the stall he was looking at, the two chattering with the stall owner about her adorable patterning.

Emile, meanwhile, was left covered in a heavy futon with a blade to his neck, with Genji folding himself over the mechanic to keep the threat a little secret just between them.

Truth be told, Emile didn’t really think Genji would kill him if it came down to it. He wanted to believe that anyway. So despite the blade to his neck, Emile gave a chuckle and smiled up at Genji.

“Lucky find, huh? This futon wasn’t all that expensive either, and it’ll fold up under my bed pretty easily.”

“I’ll kill you.” Genji’s threat rumbled in his throat, and Emile did what he could to not take it seriously.

“Can we get your brother out of my bed first? I’d like to die comfortably in my sleep, at least.”

“Now now you two, there is a time and place for such brazen affection and the market is not it.” Zenyatta’s teasing voice chimed, followed by a laugh from Zayne. Genji quickly sheathed his blade and whipped around to face his master, glaring down at the monk for daring to insinuate something between himself and the foolish mechanic that would toy with his brother like this.

Emile shouldered past Genji, “Zen it’s cooooooold.” He whined, pressing his red fingers into the monk’s exposed shoulders, sighing at the immediate warmth from Zenyatta’s systems.

“You should wear gloves.” Zenyatta spoke, moving Emile’s hands to his cheeks, “Master Mondatta bought you gloves for this very reason.”

“Zayne’s wearing my gloves.”

“My gloves now.” Zayne wiggled his warm, gloved fingers at Emile teasingly, making the mechanic whine. He complained to Zenyatta about how mean Zayne was taking all his things. Zayne laughed and countered that Emile offered them to him. Zenyatta commented they should both give up their worldly possessions and live as nature originally intended.

“Naked?” Emile questioned.

“Precisely.” Zenyatta answered.

Genji watched his brother and Emile shove into one another as they walked, again wrapped under the futon for warmth, though now with Zenyatta as their walking heater in the center. He listened to his brother laugh, genuinely and joyfully as Zenyatta and Emile doubled down on teasing him. He watched him walk ahead back to the Monastery together with them, cheeks red from cold and from smiling ear to ear the entire time.

Genji watched his brother, despite the past, move into the future with a smile on his face and friends by his side,

and felt a little lonely walking on his own steps behind

-----------------------------------------------------

-Just Tea-

Zayne sat stiffly, legs folded under him in a seiza style, as he’d been raised and taught to do. His hands rested in clenched fists on his knees, which were held tightly together. He stared directly into the hot cup of green tea before him that had been served in a yunomi, no doubt an attempt to bring comfort of his home into the room, though all it did was remind him of a past best forgotten.

“Thankyou for agreeing to have tea with me, Zayne.” Mondatta spoke across the tea table, holding a cup of green tea himself, though unable to drink it.

“Agreeing” probably wasn’t the right word for this arrangement. Mondatta had caught Zayne off guard this morning after he’d finished cooking, just coming into the kitchen to talk to Emile about something, ask a question about something, Zayne doesn’t remember. He wasn’t able to listen well. Until his name was spoken, and Mondatta asked if he had a free moment that afternoon, if he might join Mondatta in his room for some tea.

It was an invite Mondatta meant to give Zayne a choice to, he could say no. But something about it felt more than just a chat over tea. It was a summon by the Master of the household, no more a request than being enlisted into the army. There was no other option. In Zayne’s head, anyway.

So here he sat over a hot cup of tea, shaking in terror for no logical reason across a short table from Mondatta, Master of the Shambali. He felt he might throw up. Maybe that would be enough of an excuse to leave.

Mondatta had clear, peaceful body language. He sat with his legs crossed in a burmese style, clearly not able to get up quickly if he needed to. His hands were visible, resting just above the table holding his tea delicately with his fingers, the palms of his hand resting on open air. He was still, even as he spoke, which normally he would punctuate with tilts of his head, he remained unmoving.

Yet despite all of this Zayne’s brain, bruised and battered by a man now buried six feet at the Shimada family shrine, still registered Master Mondatta as a threat to be on edge near.

Mondatta hummed softly, “I left the door open encase you felt the need to leave during our visit, but it made the room rather drafty. Are you keeping warm? These mountains can be rather brutal.”

“Yes, sir.” Zayne’s response came stiff and automatic, making him sound more robotic than the Omnic he sat across from.

“Good. Have you settled in well? My brethren can be rather excitable about humans, I do hope they didn’t overwhelm you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And that shadow of yours, he is doing well, I assume?”

“Yes, sir.”

Mondatta gently placed his tea on the table, and Zayne flinched at the sound, light at it was. He feared he may have done something wrong, responded incorrectly, angered the monk across from him.

“Well then, would you like to join us, Shadow?” Mondatta asked to the open door behind Zayne.

On the other side, against the wall Genji flinched at being caught for the second time now evesdropping on his brother’s and Master Mondatta’s private moments. His face flushed as he sunk to a squat against the wall.

“No thankyou...” He spoke.

Mondatta chuckled at his dry answer, “Ah, perhaps next time, then?”

“Probably not.”

Mondatta continued his light laugh, once again picking up his tea cup, “I see, a shame. Do let me know if you change your mind, little shadow.”

“M-.. Mondatta, sir...” Zayne’s voice croaked, his shoulders seemed a little less tense, and his shaking had calmed ever so slightly. He still refused to look up, but this little moment, hearing someone give Mondatta such a simple answer as ‘no’.. It reminded him this man was not Sojiro, was not an unreasonable tyrant, he was Mondatta, a man who can take a no.

“M-May I- Could- Pl-PLEASE EXCUSE ME.” Zayne finally said, much louder than he expected, leaning forward to bow, his forehead hitting the edge of the table with a loud Thunk.

Mondatta gave a soft chuckle, “Of course,” the monk had more to say, but Zayne got up and took off for the door faster than he was expecting, “Oh- But if you’d do me a favor,” He’d just barely managed to say before Zayne was out the door and around the corner.

The man turned to look at Mondatta for the first time sense he’d entered this room, the beautiful white robes and metal plating of the Omnic were now stained with tea from the monk’s and Zayne’s cups, both of which were tipped over and spilling out over the table.

“Would you mind seeing if Emile is free?”

--------------------------------------------------

-The Mechanic’s Morning-

“And where are you three off to?” Master Mondatta’s voice called at the steps to the main temple as three of his students escaped down the stairs.

Emile, the only human in the Shambali and one of the three escaping evening meditation early, came to an abrupt stop at Mondatta’s voice, and if it wasn’t for his compatriots grabbing him, he certainty would have tumbled down the stairs.

“Just escorting the human to the restroom.” Zenyatta, the smaller of the two Omnic runaways lied quickly, pulling Emile back to a stand, “You know how humans are with their. Fluids.”

“I see. And you both need to go with him?” Mondatta pressed, hands folded behind his back calmly.

“Yes, of course.” The largest of the three spoke. An Omnic of rare craftsmanship, Ramattra could be picked out of the rest of the Shambali crowd rather easily, “You are the one who tells us to never travel alone, Master.”

Mondatta gave a hum, in hindsight it was clear he wasn’t buying these excuses, but in a moment of compassionate weakness for his younger brothers, he allowed the three to escape without much more a fight.

The human, a little man with white hair and red eyes, no older than 15, darted down the temple stairs, his fellow runaways in toe. It may not be apparent by appearances, but the three were all the same, childish age at the time. They sat impatiently in meditation, and laughed running through the monastery streets, all as you’d expect children to do.

Together, free from evening meditation, the three climbed on the roofs of the monk village, watching the sun set over the mountains that surrounded their homes. They laughed and shoved free in a quiet village together, and when Emile tripped they’d laugh at him as they helped him up, and he’d laugh along with them, shoving his snow cold hands against the warmth of their metal systems.

But those days are over now

Emile yawned awake, finally back in his own bed after an entire month of sleeping in his work room. He stretched, and smiled at the framed photo of the Shambali group photo beside his bed, easily finding Ramattra in the crowd of Omnics.

It’s a good thing he stuck out so much, Emile thought to himself as he stood and began to get dressed, pulling on two layers of robes he’d been given from Mondatta. He glanced under his bed, Zayne’s futon was already neatly folded underneath, his blanket rolled into a nest for his invisible fox friend.

“Please excuse me.” Emile spoke, though he didn’t know if the fox was there at present, and scooped the empty candy rappers out from under the bed, throwing them into the slowly dying fire. He’d be sure to throw some wood in when he got back.

He met Zayne in the kitchen, eating a quick breakfast of toast with butter, despite the ninja’s offer to make him something more. 

“I’ll be late to morning meditation. Are you coming?”

“Pass.” Zayne said, poking at his food.

“Good. Then you can start laundry.” Emile hummed as he turned to head out, running face first into Mondatta’s chest.

“Oh- easy there, my student. Are you alright?” Mondatta gently moved Emile back, checking him over quickly.

“Master Mondatta!” Emile beamed, more than use to banging into solid metal face first at this point, “Good morning! How was the sunrise?”

Mondatta chuckled, “Beautiful as ever. Heading to morning meditation?” Emile gave a nod that caused Mondatta to look him over again, “Have you already eaten? And is that all you are wearing? It is rather cold this morning-”

“I’ll eat more after meditation, and I’m plenty warm, we’ll be late, Master.” Emile reminded the worrying monk, pushing past him to rush out the kitchen door.

 Mondatta watched the human go, then turned back into the kitchen, “Ah, Zayne, good morning. I was wondering, would you happen to be free this afternoon?”

Emile ran through the Monastery’s village square, passing already empty homes of monks who were on time to meditation, leaving only one still remaining.

“Good morning, Emile.” Zenyatta greeted, only just now stepping out of his house to get moving to the temple.

“Zenyatta! Good morning!” Emile waved as he approached, an attempt to slow down so he could walk along side Zenyatta was made, and unfortunately resulted instead in the mechanic tripping just a few inches from his destination at Zenyatta’s side.

Emile hit the ground with a hard splat, not an uncommon occurrence, and laid there still for a moment, listening to Zenyatta attempt at holding back his laughter as the monk extended a hand to assist him up.

As he took Zen’s hand, Emile glanced past the monk, “Still no Genji?”

“Still no Zayne?” Zenyatta countered, pulling Emile to his feet and assisting him in brushing the well trotted snow from his robes.

“No winner today, it seems.” Emile stretched, shaking the sting from his hands as he and Zenyatta began walking side by side to the temple.

“A shame. I was looking forward to hearing a song about what a good teacher I am.” Zenyatta cupped his cheek and shook his head to add a little extra drama to his dry comment. Emile laughed and elbowed him.

“Yeah right this bet’s hardly fair, you’ve had Genji way longer than I’ve had Zayne.”

“True. I am also a better teacher, I really do have every advantage.”

“Oh that’s it,” Emile gave Zenyatta a harsh shove knocking him into a snow drift on the side of the path, causing the small Omnic to vanish into the pile. The human laughed in victory, until a robotic arm shot out of the pile, grabbing a hold of the collar of his robe, and yanking him into the dirft with him.

The two laughed, pushing and throwing snow in the pile, missing the crunching of snow approaching them.

“Well, aren’t you two lively?” Asked Master Mondatta, hands folded neatly behind his back as he glanced down at the snow drift. “Come now, or we will all be late.”

Emile and Zenyatta both pulled themselves from the snow, still giggling slightly to themselves as they started down the path once more, taking turns stepping in and out of the footsteps their master left behind as he walked ahead.

Yes, those days are over now. They’re 5 years older, 5 years wiser, one brother less and two brothers more, but they still laugh when they fall and run in the streets and throw snow and fidget during group meditations, because they are still themselves.

And no matter how much time passes, they are still Mondatta’s precious family.

[umblrspectrum]

"smaller mass" you say

[wardingshout]

Zelda goes mushroom girl

[petricorah]

scenes i loved from Real Enough to Get Me Through by @marriedzukka <333 [ids in alt]

[kuromi-hoemie]

i am not immune to transmascs in sweatpants and a sleeveless top

im rly fucking weak about it actually

[lucabyte]

So does anybody else ever think about how Loop felt the need to demonstrate that the party's deaths wouldn't have any effect on the loops. I know I do but that's besides the point. Anyway I don't think Loop actually needs to bathe, they just like to feel included.

[silusvesuius]

baby👶 drawings. these are very dear to me rn.. 2nd pic is my Nelavis with @barvin0k's Varonur 🩵 last one is a baby bosmer and snow elf, hairiest of them all. although the bosmer was meant to be my girl Barletta too lols

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x Dc AU: Danny and Tim are twins- And Vlad is the first to figure this out in his attempts to get DavlCo a new investor.

---

Tim was getting the creeps from this guy. It was as if the room got colder, the seconds got longer and the room's shadows moved to their own volition. He stared Tim down less like 'You punk kid' and more like 'You'll be mine' in a way that Tim didn't appreciate. At all.

The guy kept setting meetings up despite Tim's direct insistance that Wayne Enterprises would never touch DalvCo- not with a ten foot pole or for all the money in the world. Some how Tim's board of directors kept getting swindled by the guy and... therefore more meetings. More looks from this guy that made him want to crawl out of his skin.

Vlad asked him if he ever went by Timothy- Tim couldn't reply "that's not my name" fast enough. It apparently inspired the guy somehow. More meetings that Tim can't reject because of board members pop up.

It's been long determined that Jason doesn't get involved with Wayne Enterprises, but after the Uncle and a few other paid-actor solutions go up in flames- Tim decides to call up his older brother to act as a bodyguard and tell this guy to fuck off for the final time.

Jason apparently also gets the Heebee-jeebies from this asshole but his message is loud and clear to Vlad. There's a flash of green and then all of sudden it's just Tim and Jason in the room... Only Jason isn't acting like himself.

Putting it together- Tim reaches for his contingency F stash of Knock out gas and doses Jason. Vlad doesn't re-appear so Tim assumes that to mean that he'll be trapped in Jason's person until Jason wakes up.

Walking out of the meeting room with his bus of a brother over his shoulders- Tim quickly asks Tam to reach out to Vlad's Emergency contact. Surely there is someone in this man's company willing to explain what the fuck Vlad was trying to pull. Tim theoretically can keep Jason drugged asleep for a long time- surely that threat can get him somewhere.

The day drags on as Tim continues to keep Jason unconscious and eventually Tam lets him know that someone is here for Vlad. She says it with the addition of one of their codes- He mentally prepares himself for the worst and then... His doppleganger walks through the door? What the fuck?

Tim and Danny puzzle about one another for a little too long and Jason wakes up- Vlad pops out immediately. A shouting match between Danny and Vlad commences and...

"Man I knew our family had unresolved issues but seriously what the fuck has your clone dealing with?" Jason asks, as though he could watch this all day with pop corn.

"You made more clones?!" Danny screamed at Vlad who's only response is "Not this one! This one is actually polite!"

"Fuck you!" Tim and Danny reply in tandem.

[seventh-district]

Making Incorrect H:SR Quotes Until I Run Out of (hopefully) Original Ideas - Pt. 3 - Random Screenshot Edition

[Pt. 1] [Pt. 2] [Pt. 4] [Pt. 5] [Pt. 6]

[c6jpg]

WELCOME TO TEYVAT

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (part four)

(part one)(part two)(part three)

Eddie wakes from a thankfully dreamless sleep, his head on his pillow now, which is somehow far less comfortable than Steve’s solid chest. Speaking of… Eddie looks around; Steve isn’t there at all anymore, and Eddie is alone. He’s disappointed, though not entirely surprised, that Harrington’s left him again despite his promises. 

In fact, he’s honestly more surprised when less than two minutes into his wallowing in the empty room, the door is pushed open by none other than Steve Harrington carrying two trays of food, one balanced on each hand like a goddamn waiter. It’s kind of adorable, actually, Eddie thinks, and that thought surprises him a little too. 

“Oh, you’re awake! Good morning.” Steve sets one of the trays on Eddie’s lap. His smile is bright, though there’s a slight, uncertain wobble to it. “Shitty hospital food and shitty hospital TV, right?” 

“Right.” Eddie’s face breaks into a grin, something light unfurling in his chest. He glances at the plate of gross food on his lap then back up at Steve, and he admits, “You know, for a second there I thought you’d left again.” 

Steve shakes his head as he settles into the chair beside the bed with his own tray. “I promised you I’d hang out today. I’m a man of my word.”

“Good.” Eddie smiles and grabs a remote off the bedside table, turning on the TV. “Now for our mealtime entertainment, let’s see what’s on the shitty TV today.”

The television starts blaring some old black-and-white rerun of I Love Lucy. Eddie’s immediately about to change the channel, but then he notices the way Steve’s eyes have lit up. “Hey, that’s not shitty TV!” Steve says. “I used to watch this with my mom all the time when I was a kid.” 

Eddie snorts. “Of course you did.”  

Steve gives him an indignant look. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing.” Eddie shakes his head evasively, shoveling a forkful of rubbery scrambled eggs into his mouth so he doesn’t have to say anything else. 

Steve just rolls his eyes, almost affectionately, like they’ve had conversations like this before. He chews on a flimsy piece of bacon and makes a face, nose scrunching up. “Ugh, you really weren’t kidding about the shitty food, though.” 

“Nope,” Eddie laughs, “I really wasn’t. Thanks for catering it though.” He swallows down another mouthful of food, and then adds with a little less levity, “And, uh, thanks for last night, too - for calming me down. Don’t think I’ve said that yet.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Steve gives a small smile, shrug, slight shake of his head, a tiny pinch between his brows like he doesn't quite get why Eddie even feels the need to thank him for that. “That's what I’m here for. I just hope I didn't cross any boundaries or anything, holding onto you like that.” 

Now it's Eddie's turn to give him a confused little smile and a head shake. “No, of course not. That was exactly what I needed.” He attempts to add some humor back into the conversation, jokingly quips, “Although, to be fair, I never did think that King Steve would ever be caught dead in a bed with The Freak.”

Steve had hazarded another bite of his breakfast, trying the eggs this time, only to choke on it at Eddie’s comment. He coughs, hits his fist against his chest, and hurriedly takes a sip from the water bottle on his tray. 

“Jesus.” Eddie tries not to take offense, assuming Steve’s reaction to be one of disgust at the double entendre. “That bad of a thought, huh?” 

Steve shakes his head and clears his throat, face flushed. “No, no, it’s not that, man. Food just went down the wrong pipe, is all.” 

“Uh huh…” 

“Seriously.” Steve gulps down some more water, quiet for a moment before adding, “You know I’m not King Steve anymore, right? Haven’t been for a while now, since even long before your memories end.” 

“Yeah, I know. You ditched Tommy H. and Carol your junior year, and then Nancy Wheeler dumped you and Billy Hargrove stole your crown and bashed your face in your senior year, I remember,” Eddie recalls. “But for the most part you were still well-known and well-liked, still this popular, pretty, rich boy jock all the girls still drooled over, so.” He shrugs. “Always figured ‘King’ still fit.” 

“Right…” Steve raises his eyebrows as Eddie lists off these events of his life, looking at him with a smirk of barely-hidden amusement. “I forgot you were obsessed with me.”  

Eddie’s jaw drops in exaggerated offense. “I was not obsessed with you.” 

“Were too,” Steve taunts.

“Was not.” 

“Were too.” 

“Was not.” Eddie chucks a piece of bacon at him. 

Steve gasps indignantly as the bacon slaps him in the face and tumbles onto his lap. “You child!” But he’s laughing, retaliates by flinging a forkful of eggs back at Eddie. 

The conversation devolves into a full-on food fight, shrieking and cackling as they pelt each other with flying bits of eggs and bacon. It turns out shitty hospital food serves far better as ammunition than it does as anything actually edible. 

A nurse chooses the exact wrong time to decide to come in and check on Eddie, walking into the room at just the right moment to be caught in the crossfire and hit with a stray chunk of egg. Both boys freeze. 

“Uh oh…” Eddie mutters under his breath. Just his luck - it’s not the young, nice nurse, Katie, who always laughs at his jokes, but Nurse Margaret, the old, mean one who he’s never once seen crack a smile. She flicks the egg bit off her shoulder, leveling them with a stern frown as she marches over. 

Eddie casts a furtive glance at Steve who looks back at him, lips twitching like he’s trying not to laugh again, and Eddie feels mirth bubbling back up in his own chest too. He has to look away from Steve again before he loses it. 

He sucks his lips in, clamping them together between his teeth to hold in his laughter, and he stares up at Margaret with a thin-lipped, guilty, upside down smile as she chides them both for making a mess and scolds Eddie for exerting himself and risking reopening his wounds. Steve mumbles an apology and starts cleaning up the scattered bits of food strewn about the room while Margaret double checks that Eddie hasn’t, in fact, reopened his wounds or gotten worse in any way. Once the nurse is satisfied with both the state of the room and the state of Eddie, she whisks away what’s left of their food trays and stalks out of the room with one last disapproving look over her shoulder.

Then and only then does Eddie risk eye-contact with Steve again, and the two of them immediately burst back into laughter. Steve nearly doubles over with it, leaning against the trash can where he’d just been dusting off his hands. “Oh my god,” he chuckles out. “Her face when I hit her with that egg? I was so sure she was gonna kick me out.” 

“Nearly gave mean old Margaret an aneurysm, and that was just from hitting her shoulder,” Eddie snickers. “Imagine if you hit her in the eye or something.” 

Steve does his best impression of Margaret’s angry scowl and reproachful huff, and Eddie cackles. He laughs so hard his sides ache and his injuries hurt, wounds aggravated by the movement of his laughter, but he doesn’t care, the pain far too distant beneath the cushion of painkillers and positive emotion he currently feels so high on. 

“You’ve still got some egg in your hair,” Steve notices with another amused snort as he pushes himself away from the trash can and approaches Eddie’s bed again. He plucks the offending bit of food out of Eddie’s curls and smooths down the hair where it had been stuck. “There.” 

Steve’s fingertips brush ever so lightly against Eddie’s cheek when he fixes his hair. It sends a pleasant sort of shiver down Eddie’s spine, turning his laughter to breathless giggles just for a moment. “Thanks.”

Steve flicks the egg chunk into the trash before sinking back into the bedside chair with a soft sigh and a warm smile. “God, I missed this,” he says, “just laughing with you.” 

“Yeah.” Eddie returns the grin. For him, of course, this is the first time they’ve laughed together like this, but he has to admit he’s already rather fond of it. “Can’t remember the last time I’ve laughed that hard.”

Steve’s smile turns nostalgic, like he can remember the last time Eddie laughed like that, like he was there for it. “It’s a good look on you - laughter,” he says, so quietly Eddie almost feels like maybe it wasn’t meant for him to hear. And Eddie can’t help but think that laughter is a pretty good look on Steve too, all rosy cheeks and shining eyes.

“How did we become friends?” Eddie asks, before his previous thought can take any sort of root. 

The nostalgia in Steve’s expression only grows. “It was the beginning of June, start of summer, probably only a few weeks after your memories stop. I was working at the Scoops Ahoy in Starcourt, that new mall that had just opened, and you wandered in,” he says, looking at Eddie with a teasing glint to his eyes, “because you were obsessed with me-”

“Was not,” Eddie protests immediately.

“Were too,” Steve laughs. “Anyways, you saw me in my stupid little sailor uniform trying and very obviously failing to chat up a girl at the counter, and you came in just to laugh at me, actually.” 

“Okay, that does sound like me,” Eddie concedes with a grin. He probably walked in there just for the sailor costume alone, if he’s being honest with himself. That’s something he’d kill to see - just for a good laugh, of course. “Do you still have that uniform? It might, you know, jog my memory a little if you were to bring it in one day,” he suggests slyly. 

“You and that uniform, man,” Steve scoffs and shakes his head like this is something they’ve talked about many, many times before, enough for it to become a predictable sort of annoyance, a longsuffering inside joke. “No, I don’t still have it. Threw it out first chance I had, not to mention it got totally ruined when the- uh, when the mall burned down.” 

Eddie’s eyes go slightly wide. “The mall burned down? While you were there?” 

“Yeah- well, sort of,” Steve falters, a shadow falling over his expression, and he shakes his head again. “It’s kind of a long story, and not the one I’m telling right now.” 

“Right, yeah, shit.” Eddie waves his hand as if to erase everything he’d said before. “Forget I mentioned it.” He, more than anyone, understands not wanting to relive bad memories right now. “Continue the other story. How did we go from me making fun of you to us being besties?”

The shadow lifts as Steve returns to that memory. “Oh, yeah. I told you the show wasn’t free and that you needed to order something or leave. So you bought a milkshake, which I somehow managed to end up completely spilling all over the both of us when I tried to hand it to you. You were livid,” he chuckles, “thought I’d done it on purpose, even though I definitely hadn’t. I felt so bad I insisted on helping you clean up. You were icy about it, but you let me show you to the sink in the backroom and accepted the jacket I lent you so you wouldn’t have to walk around with ice cream stains on your shirt all day.” 

“That’s quite the meet-cute,” Eddie jokes. “Are you sure you’re describing our friendship and not some rom-com chick flick you watched last week?” 

“Nah, true story, honest. It wasn’t a rom-com,” Steve says, and though he smiles, there’s an odd sadness to it too. He shakes his head and continues, “Anyways, you clearly warmed up to me after that because you came back the next day to return the jacket and apologize for being a bit of a dick before, and then you gave me this whole ‘you’re actually a good dude’ speech and told me to give you a call if I ever wanted to split a joint or something. I took you up on it that same night; it had been a rough day at work and I figured why not, so I came over and we smoked and we talked and we got along like a house on fire - better than either of us expected, I think. And that was our thing, then, after that - smoking and talking. Sometimes weed, sometimes just cigarettes, and sometimes we just smoked and didn’t talk, and then sometimes we just talked and didn’t smoke; until eventually we started doing other things together too besides just talking and smoking, we were just hanging out. At that point we were friends, practically inseparable, and then we-” Steve stops himself, a shade of melancholy reentering his dim smile once more. “We only got closer from there.” 

“That sounds nice…” Eddie tries to remember it, really digs deep in his mind for any sort of spark of memory or recognition in Steve’s words, but it’s empty. It all just sounds like a story to him, doesn’t settle anywhere real. It’s a good story, sure, one he’d like to experience, one he aches to connect with, but a story nonetheless, only words, only fiction. “I wish I could remember that.” 

“Me too,” Steve says, and Eddie hates how sad he looks, hates even more that he’s the cause of it. 

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to make new memories, then!” Eddie declares with a theatrical amount of enthusiasm as he flashes Steve a bright grin, all in the hopes of chasing that sadness back off of his face. “Won’t we, my friend?” 

Success; Steve seems a little startled by Eddie’s sudden gusto, but he laughs and smiles, the real kind this time that shines in his eyes again. “Yeah, I guess we will.”

Eddie does his best to keep the conversation away from their past after that, not only in an attempt to keep the light in Steve’s expression but for his own sake too. It’s a strange thing to be reminded of the fact that he shares a history with someone and has no memory of it, to be around someone who seems to know everything about him while he feels as though they’ve only just met.

For the most part, hanging out with Steve is nice and fun and easy - there’s something so natural, familiar, about the way they talk, the way they banter, the way they sit together even in the silences. But sometimes Eddie will say something that makes a sadness flicker in Steve’s eyes again, or sometimes Steve will say something that makes Eddie wonder just what secrets this guy knows about him and his skin crawls with that old discomfited itch. They’re both quick with a joke, a redirection, whenever the other’s expression falters, though, like Steve is trying to make sure Eddie doesn’t feel uncomfortable just as much as Eddie is trying to make sure Steve doesn’t feel sad. 

Other visitors come in and out of Eddie’s room that day too: Dustin stops by with a portable cassette player and some newer heavy metal albums that came out during the period Eddie no longer remembers, which brings more than one source of entertainment as it also incurs Nurse Margaret’s wrath again when they listen to it too loud. Wayne drops in with some actually edible fast food for lunch and a deck of cards, playing a few rounds of a few games. Nurse Katie checks in on him to redress his wounds and she laughs at his stories of annoying Margaret. Even Steve has to leave a couple times, says he has errands to run or needs to pick up Robin from work, but he promises to be back each time and each time he is. 

Night has fallen now, and it’s just Eddie and Steve again, Steve sitting, as always, beside Eddie’s bed as they watch whatever cheesy old movie is playing on TV while Eddie fights off sleep. He fears it still; each wave of drowsiness that washes over him is met with a shiver in his heart that breathes ice into his veins and freezes him awake. 

After about Eddie’s hundredth attempt to suppress a yawn, Steve turns off the TV and looks at him. “Are you tired?” 

“No,” Eddie says, only for his lie to be almost immediately undermined by another traitorous yawn. “Alright, yeah, I am, but- I don’t want to sleep,” he admits. “I don’t want to dream.”

“Oh.” Steve’s gaze softens, sympathetic. For the first time unprompted, not waiting for a nightmare or for Eddie to ask like he always had before, Steve moves closer and takes Eddie’s hand. “I’ve got you, you know,” he says, the statement fierce in its sincerity. “It’ll be alright. I’ll fight off your nightmares with my bare hands if I have to.” 

Steve’s hand is warm against the chill in Eddie’s blood, the heat of his skin seeping in to thaw his fear. “I don’t think a nightmare is something you can fight,” Eddie says, cracking a smile, but looking at Steve now, he can almost believe it. 

There’s a new sort of spark in Steve’s eyes, protective, devoted, and it burns the way a fire in the hearth of a home burns, like something dangerous made safe just for him. Eddie suddenly doesn’t doubt, somehow, that Steve could fight off anything, even something as intangible as a nightmare, if it was threatening Eddie. With Steve here holding his hand, he somehow doesn’t doubt that not a single thing can hurt him. Not a single thing would even dare try. 

And not a single thing does. 

No nightmares make their way into Eddie’s mind that night, no bad memories stir in his subconscious. That night, instead, he dreams of Steve.

(part five!) taglist (CLOSED): @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @lolawonsstuff @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @emsgoodthinkin @alyelf @warlordess @stevesbipanic @lil-gremlin-things @rockandrolodex @badcaseofcasey @bat-outta-hel @fandomcartographer @manda-panda-monium @littlewildflowerkitten @giopandaonice @mightbeasleep @queenie-ofthe-void @krazyperson @worldofshea @marvel-ous-m @tartarusknight @a-little-unsteddie @xenon-demon @goodolefashionedloverboi @xxsky-shockxx @mc-i-r @bookbinderbitch @aspenshade88 @slowandsteddie @thedragonsaunt @daydreaming-mood @space-invading-pigeon @irregular-child @a-lovely-craziness (taglist continued in replies. please lmk if you'd like to be removed from this list)

[non-un-topo]

Thinking about Yusuf and Nicolò as young men again

[sysig]

“It could be that the loss of her children drove the Queen deeper into her darker desires...but, I don’t believe she was fighting against them that hard before that particular tragedy. No monster does.” (Patreon)

Bonus:

Hmm, wonder what he could cover those holes with :3c

[yesokayiknow]

human au. some of these guys spend too much time on here and it shows

[hypnosis-microsys]

20 days of Hypmic; day 2 - fave division

data jingie

[clownmfxx]

Ermm,, waiter waiter!!1 more baldi please