#good uncle dream

[lord-morpheus-ravens]

Illustration from the first chapter of my new fic My love will testify with married Dreamling. And bonus proud Uncle Dream and Jed wearing matching space shirts!

[bellltreee]

since the pjo fandom refers to rick riordan as uncle rick then should we start referring to neil gaiman as uncle neil or do we have to stick with 'the coraline guy'

[hairmetal666]

Eddie is sixteen and his magic is incredibly volatile. He's powerful and he has trouble not accidentally casting when his emotions are high (which is always) or casting on a whim, not being careful enough of his words, and suffering the unintended consequences. Wayne ends up hiding the grimoires and family journals until Eddie learns a little more control, and is the first to realize that Eddie casts better while he's playing music. They develop a system, by no means perfect, where Eddie composes a song based on how the spell feels.

Sixteen is also the year Eddie falls in love. He's always known he liked boys, but never thought about relationships. He lives in Hawkins and is a witch, for god's sake. He sneaks off to Indy, goes to bars, but can't imagine having something like a boyfriend.

Jackson is new in town, already 17 but in Eddie's grade. It starts as friendship, but before long Jackson kisses him. Eddie thinks it's like a fairytale. It ends when Jackson's military dad is transferred to a base overseas. It's mundane. It rips Eddie's heart to shreds.

After, Eddie does a spell. He knows he shouldn't; he's too upset and his magic is unpredictable at the best of times. He doesn't care. He grabs his guitar, starts playing. The song is melodic, layered, sad. He starts babbling, casting a spell to never fall in love by creating the most beautiful, unrealistic boy in the world. He won't remember some of what he says--and that's a problem-- but knows he talks about a boy with a map of the night sky on his body, the loneliest king, the prettiest man in Hawkins, jock with a heart of gold, lover of nerds and small children, throws himself into danger with little thought for the consequences, shockingly kind, fantastically mean. He knows this person can't be real, too many contradictions, too many impossibilities.

Enter Steve Harrington.

Eddie knows Steve. Everyone does. And sure, the guy is hot as hell, but the worst kind of douchebag jock, so Eddie never really considers him worth thinking of. And that would probably continue, but his new Hellfire recruits think the sun shines out of Harrington's ass, and apparently Robin Buckley is his best friend. It doesn't add up and Eddie's usually great at math.

Time passes and he starts to get it. He watches Dustin and Harrington do the dorkiest, nerdiest handshake and the joy that contorts Steve's face. It's so fucking beautiful, Eddie has to look away. He comes upon Harrington and Erica Sinclair bickering, both smart-assing, listens to the way Erica giggles about it once she thinks no one can hear. Or when he watches Steve drop Max Mayfield at home--Max who Eddie has never once seen smile, who he's always been just a little bit afraid of--and she's laughing and teasing him, beaming.

It's inevitable when they become friends. Steve is a wonder. Constantly a surprise. So pretty it's like looking directly at the sun. When Steve tells Eddie that he's bisexual, it drops off his tongue with no hint of unease, no consideration for how he's upending Eddie's world view.

One night they're getting high, just the two of them, and he's asking if Steve wants to shotgun and Steve smirks and leans in, and then they're kissing. Doing way more than kissing.

They keep hooking up, but it's nothing. It's Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington who wants the all-American white picket fence, wife, 2.5 kids, and a dog. Not a dnd playing-metalhead-nerd-witch dude. And if Eddie feels himself growing inexplicably more and more fond, well, he's made damn sure love isn't in the cards for him anymore.

They're laying in Eddie's bed one night, Eddie tracing gentle fingers between the moles and freckles on Steve's back.

"That tickles," Steve murmurs. "What are you doing?"

"Mapping the constellations," he whispers.

Steve's laugh vibrates Eddie's ribcage, as does the rumble of his voice saying, "my mom used to do that when I was a kid. Said she was looking for the big dipper."

He presses his lips against the top of Steve's spine to stop from saying something unkind about his parents, who never loved their absolute gift of a son enough, leaving him lonely and forgotten in that big, cold house. He freezes as soon as he has the thought, remembers that spell. It's nothing, of course. The spell was to repel love, not get Steve Harrington into his bed.

They keep sleeping together, spend almost all their time together. Eddie's enamored but it doesn't matter. Steve isn't his, not really, and never will be. Eddie made sure of it.

But one day Steve comes over and sees this old Casio keyboard Gareth brought over.

Steve flips it on, starts hitting notes; at first dicking around, but then sliding into Clare de Lune.

"You play the piano?" Eddie asks. He knows he has a dopey smile on his face, his heart doing something terrible in his chest even though he's not in love.

"Took lessons until I was ten," Steve smiles up at him, blushing when their eyes meet.

Eddie has to walk away or he's going to do something like drop to one knee and propose. Steve keeps playing, transitioning from Debussy to something infinitely sweeter, so sad it makes Eddie's heart ache.

He stands in the doorway to his bedroom for at least thirty seconds, before storming back into the living room. "What are you playing?" he demands.

It startles Steve, whose fingers still as he looks at Eddie with giant eyes. "Uh, I don't know. It gets stuck in my head sometimes. I thought it was Ozzy or Dio or whatever. It only happens when we're together. You don't recognize it?"

Eddie recognizes it. Eddie recognizes it and Steve shouldn't know it. Eddie didn't write it down , just like he didn't write down the words of the spell.

"Get out," he says. Mean because he's trying not to fall apart.

"What? Eds, what're y--"

"No, you need to leave, Harrington. Right fucking now."

"Eddie, tell me what I did. Let me fix it, please."

"Not on you. But you have to go," Eddie is shaking and Steve's eyes fill with tears.

He doesn't fight, though. His mouth pinches and he shoves his way outside.

Eddie panics and cries, tries to remember as much of that fucking spell as he can before Wayne comes home.

The first words out of Wayne's mouth when he sees Eddie curled up on the couch are, "What'd you do this time, kid?"

He spills it all, every last detail, and Wayne listens in silence, eyebrows peaked.

"It's that Harrington boy?" He asks when the tale is told.

"How'd you know?" Eddie asks.

"Are you kidding me? I see the way you look at each other. You love him?"

Eddie nods, burying his face in his knees. "He doesn't want this, though. He only likes me because I fucking spelled him to."

Wayne rests a hand on Eddie's shoulder. "Kid, I thought I taught you magic better than that. Better go make things right while you can. Then we're going to have a long talk."

Eddie wants to ask what the point is in making it right. It's already too late, after what he's done. Still, he makes the drive to Loch Nora.

Steve opens the door in sweatpants and a stretched out t-shirt, his hair undone. He's sad, Eddie realizes.

"You here to tell me what I did yesterday?"

"Like I said, it wasn't you. Can I come in?"

Steve nods, steps aside.

"Well?" Steve prompts.

Eddie explains exactly what he did four years ago, what it lead them to. When he finishes, he braces for Steve's anger, for yelling. Instead, Steve throws his head back and laughs.

"You're not mad?" Eddie asks. "Or you're so mad that all you can do is laugh?"

"Not mad," Steve confirms.

"Why not? How can you trust me now? Trust this?" He gestures between them.

"I don't know, dude. It's not like you...designed me, or something. I didn't wake up one day when I was fifteen with a bunch of new moles. I told you about my mom. Plus, that would be medically concerning. And I definitely already had crushes on other boys. So, you didn't make me bi."

"What about being kind? What about the kids and being protective?"

Steve just shrugs. "I think a lot of that was due to Nancy, but I guess I can't stay it wasn't the spell."

"You're too calm about this. I took away your free will!"

"Did you?" Steve raises an eyebrow, way too unbothered. "Maybe the spell brought us together. Took a damn long time to do it, but I don't feel like I have no choice in this." He turns more towards Eddie, taking his hands. "I like what we have. But if you don't feel that way, we can end it."

It's Eddie's turn to laugh. "Not feel that way? Harrington, I don't know if you've heard, but you're the man of my dreams. I am, unfortunately, wildly in love with you. I just--this isn't what you want, right? Not forever. You want a wife. Kids. All that shit."

"Who says? We could have a family, Eds, if we want. Hell, we already do! We're raising six kids. And, yeah, maybe I will decide I want a wife and all that one day. I'm 90% sure nothing magical is stopping me. The only thing that is, the thing that matters, is that I want you. Not because of a spell." Steve smiles, face turning a delicious pink. "But because I love you too."

He squeezes his eyes shut to force back the tears that want to fall, kisses Steve instead. Their mouths slide together in perfect sync, and Eddie wants to get lost in it forever; in Steve's lips on his, the snag of his teeth, the way he clutches at Eddie's curls.

When they pull apart, Steve starts laughing again. "I can't believe I'm your perfect man."

"Oh my god," Eddie's face flares with heat. "You have to forget this ever happened. Your ego's too big as it is."

"Nah, this? This I'm remembering forever."

They kiss for a long time before Steve says, "I think I understand why that song was so sad now. You should write us a new one."

Eddie pulls Steve close, thinking that he'll write Steve whatever he wants for the rest of their lifetime.

[mimi-cantabile]

Am I the only one who thinks 2003’s ending for Alphonse has got more sense than Brotherhood’s? To me, it makes so much more sense to see Alphonse still being 10. I never liked how in Brotherhood he’s grown up. I mean, why should a soul grow up, after all?

I can understand it’s a satisfying solution because the brothers are reunited like if nothing ever happened. Still, I suppose I’m fond of the bittersweet ending of 2003 much more when it comes to Alphonse and my only complaint is…I wanted more???? I wanted to see him being found again, everyone crying over him and hugging him (MY BBY💕💕💕💕).

I also believe we sleep too much on the fact Winry has become an older sister to him in the true sense of the word, taking care of him and worrying about him leaving for his journey to study alchemy. THEY ARE SO PRECIOUS. I like Alwin, personally, but them becoming sibilings by making Winry take Ed’s role now that he’s…Absent makes my heart disintegrate.

That was what I needed… A remake of Shamballa with more focus on post 2003 Alphonse. 2003 Winry is constantly struggling with being left aside by the two brothers, being kept at a certain distance, so I can only imagine what she feels like when she has to let Al go, right now that she finally gets to play an important role in one of the Elrics’ life.

I NEEEEEWEEEEEEEEWWWWWEDDDDD.

[qqueenofhades]

you’re the only person I follow on tumblr who I feel like would be interested in this information which is why I’m sharing cause I gotta tell SOMEBODY but I have mobs on both sides of my family and I learned my great uncle on my dad’s side was like Really Infamous in Cleveland and today I learned he was born in 1892 and for some reason that threw me for more of a loop than learning I have Cleveland Syndicate on one side and the Italian Mafia on the other (not sure which group? chapter? that one is (not sure what area-specific mob segments are called lol), Mom just drops random nuggets like “oh yeah Uncle Tony would go missing for weeks and they’d find him wandering the desert” like Mother what the hell kinda mob movie nonsense is this!!) but I gotta admit knowing that my 4 foot tall grandma married the brother of such an infamous bootlegger and mobster makes her make a lot more sense as a person lmao.

I also think my mom’s mom set her up with my dad because the Cleveland Syndicate apparently respected whatever Mafia my grandma’s family was in and for some reason she wanted to join the groups together because she LITERALLY PAID MY MOTHER’S BOYFRIEND TO NEVER SPEAK TO HER AGAIN (which only worked till after she died which is how we got this info, he was literally set up and SENT TO JAIL to get him away from my mom so needless to say Mom was FURIOUS) and she met dad very shortly after and that was it, they’ve been married 40 years. I wanna do a family tree to find out more so bad but I feel like it’s gonna give me whiplash if this is what I’m starting with lol

[blushweddinggowns]

Eddie was biting at his nails as he paced around the apartment. 

Steve still wasn't back.

He still wasn’t back and it was an hour past when he said he would be. 

He checked out the front window every few minutes, praying that he would show soon. He wouldn't be able to take this all night, he was only ten minutes away from finding him himself, parents be damned. He was probably overreacting, Steve had insisted he was overreacting, but nothing about this felt right. 

Two years they had been together, two years and Steve hadn’t seen them once. They had been at their vacation home in Jersey when things went to shit, and decided to stay there for the foreseeable future, son be damned.  There were a few calls here and there, maybe once every two months, calls that Steve was always expected to initiate, calls that he would walk away from downcast and depressed, always crawling into Eddie’s lap with a short, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Eddie’s not exactly proud, but he had eavesdropped once on the other line, morbid curiosity and worry taking full control. It was his dad who picked up, who completely ignored Steve’s small, “Can I talk to mom?” to berate him over still living at home, and how he was lucky that the housing market in Hawkins was at its worst or he’d be homeless, and how it was about time he started to pay some rent. 

“If you can actually learn to be responsible down there, we might let you live with us when the house is sold, whenever that may be. But we'll be damned if we let a free-loader stay in our home. Do you understand Steven?”

He hadn’t even said goodbye when he was done, just a short, “Your mothers sleeping, I’ll tell her you called,” and the click of the phone. 

Steve hadn’t set foot in his old house for nearly a month before that call, it was more of a glorified storage unit if anything. Steve had basically moved in with him and Wayne when they were still dancing around each other, and he could probably count the times they’d slept apart in the past two years on one hand. 

And he was already paying rent, in his own way. Even when Wayne had absolutely refused to take a dime from Steve the first time he’d tried it.

“Just keep my Eddie out of trouble and smiling, and you can stay here as long as you want, free of charge,” The embarrassing, wonderful old fuck. 

It helped that Steve was slowly becoming Wayne’s new favorite, because his uncle had fantastic taste, and Steve was probably the sole reason they had stopped eating cut up hot dogs and canned green beans every other day. 

So Steve bought groceries, gas, even snuck in a few twenties into Wayne’s wallet every month, the little weirdo. He cooked and cleaned, forcing Wayne and Eddie to do the same, out of the sheer guilt of watching someone so sweet do all of their dirty work. 

It’s not that Eddie and Wayne couldn’t take care of themselves, they could, but it had been just the two of them for so long, and Wayne had been a mill working bachelor living in a trailer park before Eddie came along, he hadn’t been brimming with knowledge on how to keep a clean house, just a moderately decent one that CPS wouldn’t raise a brow to. 

But Steve…Steve was a cleaner. 

“You learn a thing or two when you gotta get rid of all traces of a house party,” he had laughed, when Eddie had caught him cleaning under the couch, a concept neither Wayne or he had ever grasped. Though that explanation hadn’t explained how he was so good at cooking. 

It had been almost shocking the first time Steve had cooked for him. He loved Steve, he really did, respected him too, but back then the guy basically subsisted on granola bars and pop tarts, and it was Robin or Eddie who usually had to shove real food down his throat, even if it was from a shitty fast food place half the time. 

He couldn’t really be blamed for the expectation that Steve couldn’t cook for shit. So imagine his surprise when Steve blew him away with something he hadn’t even heard of before, beef bourg-something, which ended up being about the best thing Eddie had ever tasted. 

“You can’t be gorgeous, sweet, and a good cook Stevie, you gotta pick a lane here.” He had been worried for a split second that he’d gone too far with the gorgeous and sweet bit, but Steve had just laughed, so obviously pleased that Eddie liked what he made. Which, in hindsight, Eddie should have taken as a massive green flag, it could have saved him weeks of pining. 

It became a regular occurrence after that, and Steve would always glow from the approval he would get from Wayne and Eddie, like they were doing him a favor by eating delicious food. 

“My mom used to like it, when I cooked,” Steve had admitted, much later one night, “Dad hated it, said that it was a short fall to being a fag, but my mom…she always said thank you. Always smiled. She’d ask me about my day sometimes, if I made something she really liked.”

“I like doing it,” he confessed, “But I haven’t had anyone to cook for in a long time."

"Steve…"

“But now I do.” Steve interrupted with a grin, so sincere as he grasped Eddie’s hand, “For someone who deserves it."

Eddie had kissed him silly that night. 

He still wasn’t sure if he actually deserved it, but he could agree that the Harringtons certainly did not. He didn’t even know what the fuckers looked liked. Their house was always shockingly impersonal, no family photos ever in sight, just expensive meaningless art that went with the furniture.

So why were they calling now? And how did they know to call Eddie’s house?

It had been Wayne who picked up the phone, just on his way out, eyebrows raising to his hairline as he passed it to Steve. It had been a short call, and then Steve was getting dressed, trying and failing to reassure Eddie that everything was fine. 

“It happens sometimes, when they get back, it’s like a checklist item, to see me.” Steve had said, shrugging on Eddie’s jacket. He was failing to reassure him, not when he could see his hands shaking as he tied his shoes, “I’ll be fine. It will be one awakward dinner, and then I’ll be back before you know it.”

Eddie watched him, trying to process the whiplash of Steve being calmly cuddled up to his side to getting ready to rush out the door.  

“If it’s not gonna take long then I can just wait in the car baby, it’s not that big a deal-”

“Eddie, no,” He was firm and unyielding, but was refusing to look Eddie in the eye,“I’ll be fine, trust me okay?”

He kissed his cheek on the way out the door, “Nine at the latest, I swear.”

Eddie didn’t trust him, not with this. Steve didn’t talk about his parents much, but the small things he had been able to coax out of him were never good. Selfish, neglectful, mean, but he wouldn’t elaborate, never going further than small stories and tidbits. Eddie never pushed him, never asked explicitly, but he had a pretty strong suspicion it didn’t end there. 

Steve had scars, some he would talk about and others he wouldn’t. He could perfectly recite the story of the mark on his chin, even though he was messed up on truth serum with a russian induced concussion, but when asked about the thin, silvery lines that adorned his body, he suddenly couldn’t remember a thing. 

And Eddie wasn’t the only one suspicious, the rumor mill of Hawkins was strong. Daniel Harrington was known for his temper, and was borderline psychotic in highschool according to Wayne, always trying to pick fights, and always buying his way out of the consequences. 

Back in highschool, there were a few whispers in the hallways, small shit about hearing screaming from the Harrington household, rumors about hand shaped bruises seen in the locker room, questions about why Steve startled so hard at loud noises. 

Eddie had dismissed it, something he still hasn’t quite forgiven himself for, and most of the school did with him. Afterall, kids who had their dads beat the shit out of them weren’t popular, they weren’t captains of the swim team, they didn’t walk around in designer clothes or drive new cars. They were supposed to be damaged losers, easy to pick from the crowd. Someone like Eddie, never someone like King Steve. When in reality, even without his parents, Steve had been dealing with shit that would have sent normal people spiraling for years. 

Even Wayne was on edge, obviously disturebed by the Harrington's sudden arrival. He eventually called from his girlfriend’s place, checking in on how it went, grunting unhappily when Eddie told him he still hadn’t gotten back yet, “If he’s not home in a few hours call Hopper.”

“Agreed.”

Eddie gave up on pacing and peeking, deciding to just sit his ass down on the front stoop and stare at the street. He was seconds away from giving in entirely, already trying to remember where he put his keys when he saw it. Familiar headlights were making their way up his street, parking crookedly on the curb.

Oh thank god. Eddie finally let himself breathe for the first time in hours. He should have just trusted Steve like he said-

His brain short-circuited as he watched the car door open and Steve tumble out of the driver's side, falling to the curb. Eddie was flying off of the stoop, at Steve's side in a moment as he struggled to stand. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, his baby was bleeding. His baby was bleeding and blurry eyed as he pathetically tried to stand up. Eddie didn’t hesitate, scoping him up in his arms to bring him inside.

“What the hell happened Steve?” Eddie asked, panicked as he laid him out on the couch. He looked awful, so bad that Eddie wanted to cry. His right eye was swollen and already purpling, his lip was split, sending dark, red tracks down his chin. Eddie took his jacket off for him, eyes widening to see the blood running down his arms, embedded bits of glass sparkling in the light.

"I'm sorry I’m late," Steve slurred, trying and failing to help Eddie remove the jacket, “It didn’t go so good.”

That was the understatement of the fucking century. Eddie’s mind was a cluster fuck, filled with worry, confusion, rage, despair at seeing Steve so hurt, for no fucking good reason. But he needed to focus, freaking out wasn’t helping Steve, who was still fucking bleeding. Stopping that took precedent. 

Steve looked down at himself, frowning as he seemimly took in the damage for the first time, before stupidly trying to sit up, “I’ll get blood on the couch,” 

That stupid statement was enough to get Eddie out of his shock.

“I don’t give a shit about the couch Steve.” Eddie hissed out, fighting not to yell. He was feeling too much all at once, but he refused to let himself be mad at Steve for being so idiotically self neglinat, not when he needed him. He rubbed a hand over his face, steeling himself to get his shit together before standing. 

“Wait here sweetheart, and keep your eyes open, okay? I’ll be right back,” Eddie had to gently push Steve back down when he tried to sit up, “Just let me take care of you.”

Steve nodded, seemingly accepting the fact that yes, his literal life took precedence over cheap furniture. Eddie made it to the bathroom in record time, for once surreally grateful he had experienced the Upside Down, because it had forced him to have multiple first aid kits on hand. 

He was back in less than a minute, horrified to see Steve standing on unsteady feet, spreading a blanket on the couch, like ruining the upholstery with this blood was really the priority here. He had the good grace to look guilty when he saw Eddie, sitting back down with a heavy sound, unprompted. 

Calm down, calm down, calm down, Eddie thought to himself, before kneeling in front of Steve. His hands were shaking as he opened the first aid kit, but he made them work. He pressed up against the cut on his lips with cotton rounds, placing Steve’s hand against it to keep the pressure. His arms were worse, and his shaking wasn’t helping him tweeze the glass out, beer bottle by the looks of it, but he managed. 

Steve was still acting woozy, barely acknowledging the sting of the alcohol as Eddie bandaged and cleaned all of his cuts, “What hurts the most baby? I need you to tell me.”

“Head,” Steve mumbled, “feels like it’s burning.”

Fuck, Eddie didn’t know what to do with that. Surface level shit he could handle, but it sounded like he had a concussion, “Steve, I think we need to take you to a hospital-”

“No.” It was automatic, so quick from Steve’s mouth that Eddie did a double take. 

“Why the hell not?”

"I don’t…" he sighed, "I don't want everyone to know, okay? Not yet. I just want you."

"But-"

“Eddie, please?” He was begging, pleading in a way Eddie didn’t know how to say no too.

Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose, forcing himself to be patient, “Okay, okay. Just stay right here, and keep your eyes open, got it? I’ll be right back.”

Eddie kissed him on the forehead, ignoring his soft comments about being sweaty and gross. He went straight to the phone, calling the only number he could think of. 

Wayne picked up on the third ring, obviously expecting the call. He told him everything, desperate for advice, “He doesn’t want to go to the hospital, but he looks bad, Wayne. I-I don’t know what to do,”

“Jesus christ, wait a second.” 

Eddie kept peeking his head out into the hall, like Steve was going to spontaneously combust if he let him out of his site for too long. He repeated everything to Mindy, relieved that there was someone who knew what to do.

“Oh honey…Keep him awake okay? If he can’t stay conscious, call 911, don’t wait for us. And don't move him too much, we’ll be right there."

Thank god for Mindy, the saint. He had already adored the woman the first time they’d met, just from the way she made his uncle smile, but this was going to have her in his good books for the end of time. 

Steve was still awake when he got back, thankfully. Eddie sat on the floor next to him, taking his hand, “Wayne and Mindy are coming over in a bit, okay? Someone has to check on you.”

Steve started to protest, but one look at Eddie’s unamused face shut him up. He looked away, “I forgot she was a nurse.”

“If she says you need to go to the hospital, you’re going.”

“Okay.”

Eddie waited for Steve to start telling him what the fuck had happened, so he knew who he had to murder. But he didn’t say anything, he just kept occasionally playing with the rings on Eddie’s hands, proving that he was still awake. 

Eddie broke the silence first, he just couldn’t take not saying anything,“You’re not going back there. Ever. I'm never letting you out of my sight again.”

Steve laughed, wincing when it made his lip bleed a bit more. That was almost enough to have Eddie crying all over again. 

“I, um, can’t go back there, actually.” He didn’t even look sad, just resigned, “They said it was you or them. I chose you and,” he chuckled, humorless, “And they did not take it well.”

“They know?” Eddie asked, the answer obvious, but the how wasn’t. They were hundreds of miles away, never giving a single shit about their son’s life.

He nodded, “They told me on the phone, said they knew what I was up to, that I owed them an explanation.”

“How?”

“Tommy, I guess. He called them, sat down with them or something,” he shrugged and even that small movement looked painful, “Worried about my life choices or some shit.”

Another one to the list of people Eddie was going to have to choke out. 

Eddie should have never let him go over there alone, or at all. He knew something was up, he fucking knew it, but he was here sitting on his hands while Steve was getting the shit beat out of him. 

Eddie wanted him to look at him, needed him to look at him. He cradled Steve’s face, carefully moving him to meet his eyes, "Stevie…baby, why did you go?”

He looked so broken down, tears starting to gather in the corner of his eyes. Steve went to bite his lip, flinching when he realized what a mistake that was, “If I didn’t go he would have shown up here. A-and I didn’t want you to get hurt. I thought I could talk them down or something, or just lie my way through it but…I couldn’t.” 

Eddie resisted the urge to argue with him, to say that Steve mattered more, that he couldn’t put himself in harm’s way for his sake, that he would have gladly been the one to take the beating if it meant he would be okay. He was tracing the outline of his jaw, half for comfort and half to check for more injuries, biting down all of his indignation. 

“How many times have they done this before?”

“They haven’t-”

“Sweetheart, please don’t lie to me,” Eddie wiped the tears from his good eye, patient.

Steve took a deep breath, closing his eyes, admitting the truth out loud for the first time in his life, “I’ve lost count.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

"I didn't want to scare you away,"

Eddie frowned, immediately confused, “What does that mean?”

The tears were really starting to fall now, Steve wincing at the sting of them in his cuts, “I-I know I’m already a lot okay? I’m clingy and annoying a-and I fucking scream and shit in the middle of the night and I just didn’t want to add another thing for you to have to deal with.”

Blaming himself for the terrible things other people did to him, classic fucking Steve. Eddie wanted to shake him, to yell at him that he was the most important person in his world, how could anything ever scare him away?  But he held it all back.

"There is nothing that would ever make me not want you," Eddie swallowed, his own eyes starting to sting, "I'll always love you, don't you know that?"

"I-I do, really, I just...I don't know. I should have told you," Steve managed to look ashamed through his tears, and it just made Eddie's heart hurt more. He wanted to hug him, to hold him tight, and never let go. But he couldn't, not without hurting him. Steve's favorite thing in the world was getting held, and they managed to take that away. Eddie didn't know why that fact was standing out so much, but he'd never forgive them for it. 

He could hear the sound of Wayne’s truck pulling into the driveway, footsteps not far behind. Eddie kissed the side of his mouth, as lightly as he could before standing to let them inside. 

Mindy made quick work of tending to him, revealing more injuries under his clothes that Eddie hadn't even realized were there. His heart almost stopped at the sight of Steve shirtless, mottled yellow bruising strewn across his sides.

He and Wayne stood on the sidelines, both anxious as they waited for the news. Wayne was furious in a way that he hadn’t seen since he was a kid, back when it was Eddie being patched up from his own shit dad.

"You can stay home tonight," she finally declared to Steve, gesturing Eddie over, "You just need lots and lots of rest. Give those ribs a chance to heal a good while before you do anything strenuous. Now let's help get you to bed.”

"Thank you," Steve mumbled as Eddie scooped him up. Now that he had gotten the go-ahead to sleep, Steve was already letting his eyes fall closed, clearly exhausted. He set him down on the bed carefully, helping him change into clean clothes, ignoring the weak protests that he could do it himself. 

“Please don’t go after him,” Steve mumbled when Eddie got him under the covers, "Promise me?"

Eddie hesitated, "But-"

"It's not about them," Steve rushed out, shaking his head, "Getting arrested isn't worth it. Losing you isn't worth it. Swear?”

He was right, Eddie knew Steve was right. His father wasn't just anybody, he'd press charges against almost any offense against him. And he had the lawyers to back it up. Steve was still looking at him, struggling to keep his eyes open as he waited. Eddie relented, begrudgingly giving into stupid things like logic, “I swear.”

"Thank you," Steve whispered, finally letting himself fall asleep, "I love you."

Eddie kissed his forehead, staying by his side until he was fully out of it, losing himself in his own thoughts. He wouldn’t lie to Steve, he couldn’t lie to Steve, even if he wanted to. 

He wouldn't lay a hand on his father. But that didn't mean he couldn't get his shit back. Preferably before it was thrown out or damaged by his psychotic family. He left Wayne with a sleeping Steve, after a few dozen promises, that no, he was not going to go commit a violent felony.

Just a few misdemeanors. 

“If they haven't already skipped town, then you come right back. You hear me?” Wayne insisted, watching him tie up his boots with narrowed eyes. 

“I hear you. It'll be two hours, tops.”

He parked a block away, slinking along the sidewalk. Lucky enough for him, there were no cars in the driveway of the Harrington house, and all the lights were off. The whole neighborhood was quiet. It sure looked like they booked it, maybe too afraid of an assault charge actually sticking to stay in town.

Breaking into Steve’s room was easy, first floor with an unlocked window? Child’s play. His room looked untouched, thankfully. Whatever had happened, hadn’t happened here. He didn't waste time, immediately starting to throw the few things left in his bag. There really wasn’t much to grab, a few mixtapes, some drawings from Will, the last of his clothes. Eddie was searching under the bed when he heard it, the sound of the knob turning. 

He froze, hearing a sharp intake of breath behind him. He expected whoever it was to start yelling, but instead there was only the click of the door closing shut behind them. He turned slowly, surprised to see who was standing there.  

He had never seen her before, but he recognized her immediately. Steve looked just like her. The same big eyes and pouty mouth, the same gravity defying hair. They stared at each other, but she didn’t scream. She kept her eyes on him as she walked forward, primly sitting at Steve’s pristine desk. 

Eddie was trying to calculate how much time it would take to book it back down the window and to his car, when she opened her mouth, “You can keep packing, don’t worry. Daniel’s gone for now.”

She was shuffling around in Steve’s old desk as she spoke, "You're Eddie, I presume.”

It was a statement, not a question, despite the phrasing, but Eddie answered anyway, “That’s me.”

She found what she was looking for, plain paper and a pen and started scribbling as she spoke, “Is he okay?”

That broke him out of his stunned little trance. Eddie stared at her, baffled and annoyed that she would even ask, “He’s alive.”

“Did he go to the hospital?”

“Why do you care?” He was pushing it. He should just pack Steve’s shit and go, but he was stuck, seething at the woman who allowed Steve to live with that monster, too angry to keep his mouth shut.

She shrugged, “If my husband is about to be arrested for disciplining our son, I’d like to know about it.”

There it was. Eddie was pretty sure this was the first time he had ever wanted to hit a woman before. He scoffed, “Un-fucking-believable. I’m not even going to answer that.”

He made his way into the closet, grabbing the few things that were still left on hangers. She was still scribbling at Steve’s desk, when he came out, flipping the page over to start on the back. 

She didn’t look up at him, “He’s…” she shook her head, eyes on the paper, “It’s never been that bad before.”

Eddie ignored her, hurriedly going through Steve’s drawers, desperate to just get away from this bitch, this house, and get back to his Steve.  

She was folding the paper up, letter style, before finally looking back up at Eddie. She was biting her lip, the exact same way Steve did, “Will you take care of him? If he stays?”

“Better than you.” Eddie snapped, mind jumping on the if. 

She stood giving him a head to toe look, obviously displeased with what she saw. She held the letter out, “Give him this. He deserves to know he has options, and everything he’s giving up, because of you.” She said it matter of factly, like Eddie was just a temporary bump in the road, “We can give him a new start, and he’ll need a new start somewhere anyway, his father is spreading the news of your affair as we speak.”

Eddie stared down at the letter, making no moves to take it, "Your husband nearly kills him, and you think he’s going to be open to giving him a new start?" He scoffed, “Are you insane? Steve’s never going near that psycho again.”

“I could convince him,” she insisted, “When he calms down and realizes Steve needs help, he’ll be willing to give it to him.”

She shook the letter at him, her forced calm finally starting to crack, “Just give it to him. Consider it a trade for me not having you arrested for trespassing.”

Eddie snatched the letter from her hands, stuffing it into his back pocket, "Fine."

“Good. You can go back out through the window,” she said, turning to leave, “No reason for the neighbors to see more than they already have tonight."

“He won’t come back,” Eddie said, staring at her back,“He has a new family now, a real family, and I’ll never let either of you hurt him again.”

She scoffed, “We’ll just see about that,” Eddie could feel the venom behind her words, a peek into the real person behind the pretty mask. She slammed the door on the way out, like the petty child she was. 

Eddie hated her, hated how she was so sure of herself, so confident with someone she didn’t even fucking know. 

He hated how she thought she loved Steve.

Eddie was still fuming by the time he got home. He dumped the duffle bag into the entryway, the letter still burning a hole in his pocket. Steve wasn't going to leave him because of some scribbled words from his mom, on some level he knew that.

But even on the off chance he had suffered some serious brain damage and wanted to go back he wouldn't let him anyway. He'd kill Daniel Harrington himself before letting his Steve be around the piece of shit. He stepped from the hall into the living room, freezing when he saw Steve curled up on the couch, wide awake. He looked relieved to see him, before letting a frown take over his bruised face.

“What are you doing out of bed?” Eddie asked, shrinking a little at Steve’s glare. He ignored the question. 

“What did you do?” Eddie flinched, but he couldn’t really blame him for expecting the worst. His track record wasn’t exactly…stellar in the physical protection department. 

He raised his hands, placating, “Nothing, I promise! You won’t be seeing my name plastered on any headlines. I just got your stuff.”

Steve stared at him, looking for any tells. Eddie didn’t know how he did it, but the guy would just know when he was lying. Eventually he seemed satisfied with whatever he saw, relenting.

“Come here then,” he made grabby hands, adorable even when he was pissy and all bruised up. 

Eddie went to him, hugging him with careful hands, “How are you feeling baby?”

“Horrible,” Steve admitted, cuddling into his side “But not worse.” 

Eddie nodded, taking him in. He still looked awful, but he was way more coherent than a few hours ago, a sign in the right direction. He thought of the letter burning a hole in his pocket, wondering if it would really be so terrible to just throw it away, Steve none the wiser. What could she possibly say to make up for this?

But on the other hand…it wasn’t his choice to make.

“I uh, “ he rubbed a hand against the back of his neck, “Kinda ran into your mom, while I was there.”

Steve went rigid in his arms, staring up at him with wide-eyes. 

"But nothing happened!" Eddie rushed out, flinching at the sight of Steve’s panicked face, "We just talked."

“Why would she want to talk to you?”

Eddie sighed, digging into his back pocket. Now or never he guessed, “She wanted me to give this to you.”

Steve stared at the envelope, taking it in shaky hands, “She gave it to you?”

"Wrote it out in front of me. She said, uh, that you deserved to know everything you were giving up.”

Because of me. 

He left that part unsaid.

Steve frowned at the paper in his hand, shaking his head, "Help me up," 

“You’re not supposed to be moving-”

“Just to the kitchen,” Steve insisted, “I’ll lay down right after,”

Eddie gave in, helping Steve to his feet, fully intending to drag him back to bed the second he was done with whatever this was. Steve steadied himself, shooing Eddie away to weakly walk towards the kitchen.

Eddie followed him, confused as he dug around in the drawers, finding whatever he was looking for before going to the sink. Eddie watched, wide eyed as he lit a match, promptly setting the paper on fire.

"Steve-"

“It doesn't matter what it says," Steve cut in, letting it drop into the sink, "I made my choice."

He turned away from the sink, stepping back into Eddie’s arms, “All I want is you.”

Eddie held him, forcing himself to be gentle when all he wanted to do was bury himself into the other man, "You won't regret it.” Eddie choked up, teary-eyed, “I'll spend the rest of my life making sure you don't."

"It sounds like you're proposing," Steve said with a wet laugh. Eddie started kissing his face, helpless to not touch him. 

"Maybe I am,”He managed to gasp out in between pecks, “But only if you'd say yes." 

Fuck being young. Fuck every doubt that other people would have. There was no future that existed where Eddie wouldn't want Steve. This was it, the only person he would ever want, ever need. Steve stopped him at his mouth, careful of his cut as he kissed him, so light it was barely there.

He whispered into the small space between their lips, like a secret just for them, "I would."

[sleepinglionhearts]

Anyone wanna send me money for irresponsible fountain pen purchasing

[summer-fire]

Muppet ass bird movie

[princessg3rard]

another mcr5 prophetic dream !! it was also another uncle mikey dream so I’m starting to see a pattern :3

anyways in the dream I was like sitting and watching mcr rehears for the upcoming tour they’d do when they drop mcr5 and gee was in SO MANY SKIRTS !! also one really cute floral dress but they wore that more as like a fun summer dress and not necessarily a stage outfit :)

anyways once they were done I woke up so not much besides that

[strigital]

The Farlong Twins

i'm pretty sure when Daeghun wished these little imps out of his house he didn't mean "get snatched by Mindflayers and become infected with the protagonist disease" but at least he can finally enjoy his retirement, right?..

also can we appreciate that: their mom was: an improbable child of a drow and a sun elf, the kalach-cha, the champion of the West Harbor Harvest Fare, the knight-captain of the Crossroad Keep, a member of Lord Nahser's Nine, a killer of the King of Shadows, a survivor of the Spirit Eater's curse, a druid who could speak in Wild Shape and had a telthor for an animal companion, as well as the one who helped restore the Circle of Merdelain their dad was: an improbable son of a Night Hag and a mortal man, a Dreamwalker of indescribable power, a natural performer of great talent, a guardian of all Rashemen's spirits, a seducer of many a farmer's wife and daughter, a slayer of the Coveya Kurg'annis, and he who looked upon the Wall of the Faithless and chose to deny gods still meanwhile the kids: hee hoo brain wormies go brr :)

[topazshadowwolf]

I don’t have any headcanons for regular gang right now, but do have one for gooptale gang. If that okay.

Uncle Dream surprises them by dressing up like Santa.

Nightmare had to admit it. It suited Dream. Spreading Christmas cheer was the sort of thing the golden skeleton was born to do. So, it just looked right on him, the red outfit, trimmed in white. The beard looked weird, though... But that's about the only thing that didn't look right on Dream. And it did mask who he was, for the most part.

Honestly, the outfit would look better with some golden designs embroidered eloquently on it. Nothing too much to avoid garishness, but just a nice touch. A classy touch without being tacky. But no, Dream wanted to keep it simple, and humble. This was meant for the kids, to make them happy, not show off.

If Santa ever decided to retire... well, Dream would be perfect for the job.

"HO, HO, HO! MERRY CHRISTMAS!" Dream boomed in a joy-filled voice as he burst into the room the boys were in with Lyra.

The happy smiles, excited squeals, and bright eyelights only made Dream smile more. Cross and Killer ran over, Horror following a few steps behind. Even Dust, who is normally shy around strangers, knew the figure Dream was representing and got caught up in the excitement with wide eyelights and stood there as if looking at a celebrity. And Dream was enjoying every moment of it... and... as disgusted as Nightmare should be with all the positive emotions in the air, almost suffocatingly thick, he couldn't be. He walked in behind his brother and smiled, "Look who I found."

"I thought I would stop by, and Mr. Night was kind enough to let me in the front door! For once, I didn't have to climb down any chimneys!" Dream said as he picked up Cross, holding him in his arms with a grin before looking down at the others. "I figured we could have a little chat! Then you could give me your letters in person. You have them written, right?"

Killer gasped, "we just finished!"

"mommy was helping us write them!" Cross said, wiggling Dream's arms.

"That is wonderful!" Dream said, then set Cross down. "I am certain she made sure ever 'I' is dotted and every 'T' is crossed. Is that correct?"

"Yes, I did, Santa," Lyra said with a smile.

Dream nodded and turned back to the children, "Excellent! Now, I am going to take a seat over there. You get your letters, and come join me and tell me how your year has been."

"Come here, boys, the wax is ready. Pick out your stamps, and we will get these letters sealed for Santa," Lyra said, calling them back over to her.

---

The boys were overjoyed by this. And Dream is more than happy to play the role. The kids do express their sadness that Dream never seems to be around when Santa is, as they know they would be best buddies. Each time, once their visit from Santa is over, he gives them a candy cane, new appropriate-sized mitts and hats, and a big hug.

As the boys get older and figure it out, they don't tell the younger ones. After all, this is one of their favorite holiday traditions.

[silbeni]

QYICK POST EXPLAINING SOME THINGS. ryoma's stupidly tragic backstory... HEED the tws

Actually I exceeded the tag limit crap I'll rb w a continuation after I shower

[opens-up-4-nobody]

God. One of my little sisters is such a bitch. She's done me some genuine damage in exacerbating my already social bad anxiety. But when I have dreams where she's been hurt or killed, it's so horrible bc she's still my lil sister :-(

[king-o-rat]

I never thought I'd make it this far. By age 9, I was convinced I would be dead or forgotten by now. Now I have to ask myself the hard questions that I never thought I would have to do. In the words of Uncle Iroh, "It's time for [me] to look inward. To ask [myself] the big questions. Who am [I] and what do [I] want?"

I have no idea what I want and I barely know who I am, but I'm getting there. I'm realizing the path I first set out on might not be for me. There are so many things to discover in this world, and I'm not ready to pick just one. My ideas, my morals, my worldview, they're all just an amalgamation of thing that have stuck by my side for years, and they're telling me not to define myself in such small ways as 'Good with Technology' or 'Good at Math'.

I have new places to see. I have new things to love. I have all the time I want to scratch my itch. To grow obsessed with whatever I set out to do. And I just know that when I find it, when I scratch the itch, I'll be great at it. Not because someone told me so, but because I believe I am great.

[shrapnarl]

.

quick dreamsnso i can find them later

[drowningparty]

how is dostoyevsky not "comfort reading" he wrote a novel about killing your dad and a novel about killing an old pawnbroker b/c you think you're napoleon and one about a sad little lesbian with a crush on the meanest girl she knows who sings when no one's looking he never finished b/c he got sent to siberia and one about what if you introduced a horse to some convicts and made them so happy! then befriended a dog and the landlady. haunted. landlady haunted one