#wrote this because.... it's my birthday

[oatmilk-vampire]

Birthday Blues

Read part 2 here.

Steve hates his birthday.

He knows he may not be the only one who gets "birthday blues" but he feels like it's a lot deeper than just the blues.

When he got closer with Eddie and learned of his own shitty upbringing, he thought it'd be a bonding moment for them. Eddie has to hate his birthday too, right?

Wrong.

Despite Eddie’s mom dying when he was only six, and Eddie’s dad being a deadbeat, leaving Eddie on his own before Uncle Wayne took him in, Eddie loved his birthday.

The Munsons may not have been rich but Wayne always did his best to provide Eddie with new(er) clothes, or dice, or guitar picks. A new album or poster for his bedroom walls. Maybe even his favorite food at the diner--something they didn't do often as they usually survived on box cereal and spaghetti-Os.

And when Al Munson finally rolled into town conveniently around his only child's birthday, well he'd give the sort of shitty, low-commitment gift only a father could give.

And Eddie looked forward to it all the same. One or two shitty presents in six years is better than none when it comes to his father. He'd take what he could get.

So, when Eddie's birthday comes and goes and Steve gets invited to his and Wayne's get together with the kids, and then a later party with the members of Corroded Coffin--well of course Steve goes. And he showers Eddie with love and meaningful but still kinda pricey presents, because he can. And he wants to. Despite the merciless teasing he endures. The look on Eddie's face makes Steve feel like he's the one that got the greatest gift of all.

This, of course, all falls apart when Eddie points out Steve's own birthday must be coming up, and he's right. And because he has no tact he announces in front of everyone who realizes in horror that they've gone years of knowing Steve and celebrating his birthday exactly zero times.

Steve's equally horrified now because now everyone is tripping over their feet desperately trying to make it up to him with cakes and ice cream and movies and handmade cards and weird action figures Eddie probably would have liked better.

It's only after Steve gracelessly accepts all of their gift-giving, and fends off at least three panic attacks and two migraines that he has to put on his bitch voice and scream that the only thing he wants for his birthday is to be left alone.

And like usual, the kids do not listen.

Until Eddie steps in. He makes them go, Robin too, even if she is pissed about it. But they go when Eddie assures them that Steve probably just feels a little overwhelmed right now and needs some space.

He's close to leaving too, knowing he may have made a mistake and should probably get out of his hair... But then Steve starts crying and Eddie has to stay.

It's not loud or ugly, just these little, tiny pitiful things like Steve is trying his damnest to not cry. Like the act of tears falling would kill him.

Eddie cautiously slides next to his shaking form on the couch, careful not to jostle him too much.

He bites his lip as he experiments with placing a hand on Steve's shoulder.

Steve tenses under his touch until Eddie speaks,

"Stevie, I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. None of us did."

His parents were hardly around. Never gave him practical toys he wanted, just whatever they thought a boy should have to shape him into a "proper young man", if they thought he needed toys at all. No parties. Ever. He briefly wanted to throw ragers when he realized he was old enough and his parents wouldn't be home, they never were, but those made him feel even worse so he got used to spending the day like any other. All alone in a big, empty house. Not a home.

Eddie continues to rub soothing circles into Steve's back as he lets it all out, explaining his woes as best he can through a sore throat and runny nose. Eventually he pulls Steve into a proper hug-turned-cuddle until his breathing steadies and he isn't shaking anymore.

"I'm sorry." Eddie holds his breath, hoping it doesn’t trigger another panic attack.

"No--don’t be. Thank you."

"For what? Making you cry?"

"For caring enough to bring it up, even if it was a lot. But mostly for being here, after. Just..."

Steve didn't have to finish his sentence. Eddie knew what he was trying to say.

Thank you for staying. Thank you for holding me. Thank you for loving me.

"Always, Stevie. I'll always be here for you."

Steve squeezes him, and Eddie squeezes back once, twice.

He doesn't say it, but Steve understands.

Happy Birthday... I love you.

[steddieas-shegoes]

cw: mentions of scarring, canon-typical violence, flashback (not graphic), minor body horror (again, not graphic, mostly just emotional feelings about scars)

♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️

Everyone gave him weird looks when they walked in, quickly schooling their features when they noticed he was awake and watching them.

He didn’t know exactly what that was about.

They had him on a lot of good drugs.

But eventually he got weaned off them, and he noticed the pull of bandages on his side, and his arm, and his neck, and his face.

He was still unable to get out of bed. Still couldn’t even reach his arms above his chest for more than a few seconds.

But he damn sure reached up to feel the cloth and plastic surrounding his cheek. How had he not noticed for days? How had no one bothered him about it?

Maybe they had and he just didn’t notice. The morphine was one hell of a drug.

Wayne was soft, patient with him. Saw him touching it, saw the way his eyes filled with tears. He’d never been particularly vain, hadn’t cared much about what he looked like to others, but this felt bigger than that. This felt like he was changed in a way that everyone could see.

Add it to the list of things people could bully him for.

He cried himself to sleep, Wayne’s hand in his, silently comforting in the way he’d always done.

When he woke up again the next morning, he was alone.

It was the first time he’d been alone since the boathouse.

He could swear he heard bats outside his door, screams coming from the attached bathroom, flashes of someone dying on the ceiling.

He felt the sharp sting of teeth puncturing his skin.

He felt hopelessness creep into his bones as he gave in.

Maybe this time they would finish the job.

“Eddie!”

Steve Harrington’s voice broke through the thoughts, panicked enough to bring Eddie back to his hospital bed within a second of hearing it.

“Shit, are you okay?” He continued, hand brushing against Eddie’s bandaged cheek.

Eddie nodded once, closed his eyes, leaned into the touch.

He could blame it on any number of things if Steve felt weird about it. The morphine, the flashback, the loneliness.

“You’re okay, Eddie. I promise. Won’t let anything happen to you,” Steve whispered.

Eddie believed him.

He fell back asleep with Steve’s hand gently cupping the mangled side of his face.

If Steve could still touch him there, then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️

Steve came by every day, sometimes in the early morning, before visiting hours officially started, sometimes well after Wayne had left to get some sleep. He always smiled when he walked in, a genuine one, not the one everyone else gave that was so fully of pity and pain he couldn’t bear to make eye contact. He sat down on the side of the bed, not the chair like everyone else, not scared to be close.

And every single day, without fail, he would run his finger along the edge of Eddie’s bandage on his face, watching his own movements and cataloging any changes.

Eddie sat quietly, still, scared to put words to anything happening. Scared to tell Steve what it meant to him to have someone acknowledge his pain in this way. Scared to think Steve could mean anything by it.

It was easy to pretend Steve was doing this because he cared.

Maybe he did care.

But he didn’t care the way Eddie wanted him to, needed him to.

So he stayed quiet, still.

He watched.

He fell asleep while Steve talked about his day, the kids, what Joyce made Hopper do around the house.

He woke up alone most days, but that was okay, because Steve would be there eventually.

♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️

“You ready to get that thing off?” Wayne asked, gesturing to the bandage.

“Oh. Today?” Eddie suddenly didn’t want to ever be without the bandage. Removing it meant he’d see what was under it.

It meant seeing how much that place had ruined him.

The pull of the stitches hadn’t been as obvious with the pull of the bandage masking it.

But now it’s all he felt.

The nurse smiled at him as she put some antibiotic cream over the area, saying he would probably still have to keep it extra clean for the next week or so while the stitches did their job.

Wayne smiled at him in the way that meant he didn’t really want to smile at all, but knew Eddie needed him to.

Steve didn’t come.

Eddie didn’t sleep.

♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️♦️

He woke up with panic in his chest and a silent scream in his throat.

He woke up with Steve’s hand on his face.

Gentle, soft, but a strong comfort.

“Promise I washed them first. They said we have to be careful about germs,” Steve said quietly.

“You don’t have to. I know it’s…it’s gross. It’s ugly. I’m ugly.”

Steve shook his head. “No. Not gross. Not ugly. Alive.”

“Steve-“

“You’re alive, Eddie. You could have your entire face held together by staples and you would still be a miracle. You’d still be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Well, Steve’s charm wasn’t an exaggeration, was it?

He wasn’t even sure if the skin barely pulled together could blush anymore, or if the heat that should be on his cheek was burning on the outside the way it felt like it was on the inside.

“It’s gonna be awful when it heals. I saw it in the mirror.” Eddie could feel every stitch in his jaw, the few that spread across the corner of his mouth and bottom lip, the ones that were nearly up to his ear. “I’ll always have a crooked face. The scar will always be huge. It’s all anyone will see.”

“Then they aren’t looking.”

Eddie bit his lip, eyes searching Steve’s. “But you are.”

“No. I’m seeing. There’s a difference. I see you. I see what you’ve survived. I see the mark it left on you. I know it wasn’t just the scars that cover your skin.” Steve leaned his head down, touching Eddie’s forehead with his own. “We all have them. And we’re all still here. Your heart’s beating. That’s all that matters to me.”

“Who knew you were so good with words?” Eddie smiled sadly.

“Robin says I’m just good at not having a filter.”

“She’s right as always.” Eddie wrapped his fingers around Steve’s wrist, turning as slowly as he could to kiss his palm. “You’re not scared of it.”

“No. Are you?”

“I’m scared that you’ll change your mind when it’s always there as a reminder of what happened.”

Steve kissed his nose, making him smile for the first time in what felt like years.

“I’ll have the reminder that I got you out of there. That no matter what, the bats couldn’t finish the job. That you were stronger and you made it.” Steve let his hand drop, but quickly laced his fingers with Eddie’s. “I know it’s a lot to ask of you to trust me, but will you? For today?”

“Just today?”

“I’ll ask again tomorrow.”

“And what? Every day after that?”

Steve smirked.

His eyes were glistening with tears, but Eddie could tell it wasn’t sadness or fear.

“If that’s what I have to do.”

They hadn’t even talked about feelings, not really. Nothing that made any sense to Eddie, nothing that they could define. A part of Eddie was still convinced he was in a coma and dreaming this entire conversation up.

But even the nurse had noticed the way Steve watched him, how he touched him, how he fought for him. She said he’d been a firecracker from the moment he carried him into the hospital, dripping blood on the tile, staining the halls with his demands for help.

Wayne said he barely left his side the first day, only doing so when the doctors had told him they would call the cops if he didn’t.

Erica even noticed how things had changed between them, stating that she refused to watch her babysitter and the only DM she had respect for make out.

But Steve held Eddie, made him feel like he could get out of the hospital bed and live a life that wouldn’t keep him running. Steve was there.

Steve might even love him. If not now, then some day.

And Eddie could trust him today.

He could probably trust him tomorrow.

“Kiss me?” Eddie probably shouldn’t. The stitches tugged when he talked, and another mouth anywhere near his wounds was just asking for an infection.

But Steve would be careful. He knew what Eddie could handle.

It was barely a kiss. A graze of the lips at most.

But it was the best kiss Eddie had ever had.

At least until tomorrow.

[atlanticsea]

soldier/poet/king - patrick/tashi/art

based on that one quiz i made four years ago. if you're interested, you can click here to read all my thoughts on art being the most king to ever king, tashi being a poet with a strong soldier streak despite contradictory results, and patrick being a self-destructive soldier.

[dottores]

YOU GUYS MUST LOOK AT WHAT TEE GOT ME FOR MY BDAY!!!! SHE GAVE IT TO ME EARLY FOR CONGRATULATIONS ON FINISHING MY FIRST WEEK OF LAW SCHOOL

[magicalgirlsandcerulean]

The Sparkling Prince, Battle Lover Cerulean!

The 10th of November is Arima's birthday. Happy birthday!

[muscariii]

Hi guys!! Not dead!! :D

I'm currently away from home because I'm doing art school stuff (I don't know how to say plener in english so just yeah the thing where you go and you paint outside). I've been busy with all the new stuff and I didn't have much time to draw unfortunately but I haven't forgotten about tumblr. And since I'm in another town currently (or rather mountains and fields) I don't have access to digital so I'll post something when I get back.

Also!! It's my birthday today :)

I painted a cow when I was out today :)

[rudnitskaia]

yay a week until my 29th bday ✨🔥😎🔥✨

[echo-rambles]

birthday wishes

words: 1,567 tags: fluff, best friend!lee know, f!reader, humor, platonic cuddling, a vague allusion to bf!chan. notes: I don't know what got a hold of me. I wrote this out in just a few hours because I couldn't stop thinking about bff!lino and being stupidly affectionate. I tried my best but lino's voice isn't very easy for me to write for just yet lol. hopefully it's fun!

-o0o-

You tap at your phone screen, awakening it just enough to check the time. Maybe if you keep checking, it'll make the minutes move by faster. Logically you know that's not how it works but you're so impatient.

Most everyone else is asleep, but you can't even begin thinking of going to bed. Not only do you have something you need to do, but you're also just too damn excited. You've been waiting for this all night and it's almost time. How are you meant to sleep? 

Finally, finally, you watch as the hour ticks over and it's midnight. You've been waiting for this.

Scurrying off, you slip your way into the bedroom and sneak over to the bed. There's a lump under the covers, and you could jump on it and startle the lump awake. But you don't think it'd be a very kind thing to do, no matter how excited you might be.

Instead, you perch yourself at the edge of the mattress and begin to gently peel the blanket away, revealing the person underneath. 

"Hey, wake up." You whisper, a little sharply. 

Minho grumbles, smashing his face further into his pillow, turning away from your voice. 

"Oh my god, wake up already."

"Why?" The word is muffled and grumpy. 

"Happy Birthday!" You finally give in to your excitement and shake at his shoulder. 

"...What?" Finally he rolls towards you, squinting at you through the gloom of the night. 

"It's the 25th, you fool."

Another grumble, almost verging on a whine. "I'm trying to sleep. It'll still be my birthday in the morning, when I'm awake."

"But you're awake now."

"Under duress."

"Whatever, I want to celebrate with you now." You try to make a show of complaining, but you can tell Minho is already settling back into sleep. Well, that won't do. Not yet, at least. Crawling into the bed, you shimmy your way under his covers, until you can press your chilly feet against his shins, smiling as he flinches and opens his eyes enough to glare at you. "I bet I'm the first person to wish you a happy birthday."

The glare softens a little, and then he's sighing, shifting around so he can offer you space on his pillow to share. You gladly accept. Getting so close you're almost nose to nose.

Minho hums thoughtfully. Sleepily. "You’d bet correctly."

“By birthday rules, that means I win.”

He hums again, much more sleepy than thoughtful. “Congratulations.”

"Do you want some birthday cuddles?" You ask, already knowing the answer. 

"What would Chan say?" Minho snarks, instead of an outright rejection. 

You give him this long look, raising a single eyebrow. "'You're cuddling without me?' and then he'd jump in bed and sandwich you between us for birthday cuddles "

"Ugh, I'm glad it's just you here to smother me."

"Exactly!" You chirp, surging forward to wrap him up in your arms. He grumbles some more, but he melts into the hug regardless. Tucking his head into the space between your neck and the pillow. 

"Can I go back to sleep now?"

"I didn't get to sing happy birthday to you yet…" 

"I'll only allow it if you do it with a really weird accent." 

"Why would I sing it any other way?" 

Minho's phone chimes, interrupting you before you can really get started. You untangle yourself from birthday cuddling to practically crawl over him to grab at it. Awakening it to check the notification.

"Who is it?" Minho asks from where his face is practically pressed into your ribs. 

"Hyunjin wished you a happy birthday. Ha! He's two minutes too late! This means I definitely won.” Another chime. “Jisung gets third place, since he just now sent birthday wishes." 

"Oh, tell them that they lost. Rub their faces in it." He says, twisting about to try and look at his phone screen. He sounds more awake now, as if the promise of fucking around with your friends has energized him. 

Of course you take the opportunity presented to you, taking his phone with you as you settle back into bed, giggling relentlessly to yourself as you type away. “Ah, too slow! So sad! Noona wished me hbd the moment the clock struck twelve! You’re both losers. And then a lot of laughter.” You narrate from Minho’s perspective, replying in the group thread. 

Minho nods along, chin pressing into your shoulder as he watches the message get drafted and sent. “Add a sticker too, and maybe more laughter.”

“Perfect!” After following directions, you lock Minho’s phone and slip it somewhere under the pillow. “Ok, where was I?”

“Singing happy birthday. In a terrible accent.”

“You said weird.”

“I’ve changed my mind.” 

Huffing and puffing and complaining, you make a big show out of it. Getting comfortable under the covers and snuggling close to Minho, folding both of his hands between your own before you start to sing. Somewhere in the middle of the birthday song, your accent changes, getting away from you and turning into something completely different. It makes Minho laugh. 

You both try your best to stay quiet, neither of you wanting to alert the others to the little impromptu birthday party happening in his room. Or else they’d converge and crowd the bed, and you don’t want that. This is for the two of you. No one else. 

He starts to sing along with you towards the end, affecting his own voice and making you trip up with laughter. It’s stupid and you’re both giggling once it’s all over, but it’s worth it. 

“Ok, so.” You start, once the both of you have the laughter under control. “What’s your birthday wish?”

He hums, closing his eyes once again. The smile is still present, and you’re sure he’s not about to fall asleep again. It’s a thoughtful sort of hum, not sleepy at all. “I wish… to one day gain the ability to speak to my cats. I feel like it would be very helpful and I could ask them why they insist on chewing on candy wrappers when I buy them wonderful toys.”

“Minho-ah.” You pout, just a little, giving your clasped hands a shake. “Be serious. I really want to know.” 

Minho squeezes your hands, sighing through his nose. “It’s the same wish every year. To live a happy life, surrounded by the people I love most in the world.”

“And it comes true? Every year?” 

“I’m here with you, aren’t I? Tomorrow I’ll wake up to Changbin and Jeongin trying to make me a birthday breakfast because they don’t want me to cook for myself, even though they will absolutely burn whatever it is on the stove. Chan-hyung will spend the whole day making excited little noises because he wants to give me his birthday gift the moment he sees me but he’s already made a pact with the other boys to wait until lunch. They’ll give me hugs and kiss my face and smother me with their love, all day.” Minho’s voice is quiet as he describes everything, and you can almost see it. Like some sort of premonition. 

They all know each other so well and they all love him dearly.  

“It’s the same, every year. Because I never want it to stop being true.” 

You shuffle closer, until you can tuck your head underneath his chin. “I don’t think it’ll ever stop being true, Minho. Even if you wished for something different, I don’t think we'd ever stop loving you.” 

He laughs, just a huff through his nose, and you can hear the smile in his voice as he hums and speaks. “Well, then I guess my wish to suddenly speak feline is back and better than ever.” 

The both of you fall asleep like that. Giggling and whispering to each other until sleep claims you. In the morning you’re woken up by Chan, diving into the bed and complaining that he missed out on birthday cuddles, which is soon joined by Felix crawling into bed and asking for cuddles of his own. You immediately latch onto Felix once he’s close enough, abandoning both Minho and Chan to smush Lixie’s face in your hands. 

The bed becomes crowded not long after, just like you knew it would, with Jisung joining and squeezing Minho in a hug, apologizing that he wasn’t able to wish his jagiya a happy birthday sooner. (Seungmin had poked his head in, saw the messy cuddle pile, and simply wished his hyung a happy birthday before leaving to ‘supervise Jeongin.’) 

It’s all very sweet and a little loud and Minho gets his revenge by pinching Chan’s ass at least twice. 

Hyunjin skids to a stop in the doorway, both hands braced on either side and his face solemn. “Changbinnie is trying to burn down your kitchen.” 

“I am not!” Changbin bellows back, voice carrying down the hall. Hyunin presses his lips together tightly.

“I take it all back.” Minho says, from his place folded deeply into Jisung’s arms. “I wish that everyone would leave me to lay here and rot away in peace.” 

“But we love you.” You say sweetly as you grab his cheek and pinch. Minho smiles at you, all teeth. Jeongin yells something in the background about how toast should not look that color. No matter what Minho says, you know this is the start of a very perfect birthday.

[marvel-ous-m]

Summer Child

W/C: 2,670

A/N: This is my birthday gift to myself! I was in the mood to write some steddie hurt/comfort and getting together. I hope you enjoy! Title from Conan Gray song (I listened to my moody playlist as I wrote this morning and it just kinda fit).

It’s not like Steve to cancel plans.

It’s completely out of character for him to forgo an event unannounced.

Eddie’s honestly not sure that’s even what’s going on. It’s more likely that one of the kids forgot to spread the news that Steve had a conflict, that the kids would have to find a different way home from their movie night.

A movie night which everyone in the party was invited to. A movie night hosted in the Wheeler’s basement that everyone showed up to- everyone but Steve.

When the time came to take the brats kids home, Eddie volunteered. Not only because he had the van- yeah, that was a pretty big motivator- but so he had an excuse to check-in on Steve afterwards.

Yeah, his house was out of the way, but if Eddie was already out and about, it only made sense.

That was the story he was telling himself, at least.

Eddie dropped the kids off one by one, ignoring their excited shouting and loud conversations. After a night of candy and soda, they were… a lot. Eddie made a mental note to make sure there were more healthy options next time, then groaned. He wasn’t their mothers, for Christ’s sake.

Eddie arrived at Steve’s house and practically jumped out of the car to make for the front door. Steve was probably fine- but in the off chance... it made sense to rush.

Eddie knocked three times, then rang the doorbell. When nothing happened, Eddie lifted the potted plant on the front stoop and grabbed the spare key underneath it.

Rich people were so predictable.

The door clicked open and revealed a dark house, save for the dim glow of the television in the family room. (Not the living room- that was a plastic-covered-furniture nightmare. The family room, which had a couch meant for sitting and actually contained life every once in a while.)

Eddie walked towards the light, which was soon joined by high-pitched voices and a slightly-annoying laugh track. Eddie turned the corner into the room, eyebrows raising at the sight that greeted him.

Steve was very much alive. He sat curled up on the center cushion of the couch, sock-clad feet barely visible. He wore an oversized sweatshirt, the hood pulled over his head, and was wearing what looked to be flannel pajama pants. He was covered in two blankets and stared blankly at the television screen, eyes glazed over in a way that would otherwise be concerning if it weren’t for his steady breathing and sluggish blinking.

He was watching... The Muppets?

Steve lifted a shaking hand to wipe at his eyes, then sniffed softly, his breath hitching.

Steve was crying to The Muppets. Which was probably the strangest sentence Eddie had ever thought in his life.

Eddie had only seen Steve cry twice. The first time was when Max woke up, the second was after a particularly bad nightmare that caused Steve to drive all the way to Eddie's house and ask to stay the night. Suffice to say, Steve didn't cry at just anything, and The Muppets was a weird thing to cry about. Eddie was fairly certain there was something else going on.

Eddie rapped his knuckles on the side of the doorway twice, keeping his posture relaxed in an effort to not scare Steve. He was intruding on a delicate situation, it was the least he could do.

Steve turned his head, surprise painting his face briefly. It was quickly replaced by a neutral, schooled expression. "Eddie?"

Eddie smiled softly, waving his fingers in a way that he knew usually made Steve break into a ridiculous smile. His expression didn't budge. Yikes. "Hey, Stevie. I just swung by to make sure you were okay. We had movie night tonight and you didn't show-"

"Fuck." Steve's face crumpled. He hastily covered his eyes with his hands, his thumbs rubbing small circles into his temples. "Shit. Fuck. I'm sorry, Eddie. Did the kids get home okay?"

Eddie took a few steps towards Steve, stopping when he was hovering awkwardly at the edge of the couch. "Yeah, everyone's fine. I took 'em home on my way here." Steve's breath hitched as he visibly grew more upset. Fuck. Change the subject, Munson. "What's got you so upset, sweetheart?" Steve let out a soft sob in response, and Eddie cringed to himself. WRONG CHANGE OF SUBJECT. ABORT. ABORT.

"It's- um, just... a bad day." Steve's whispered reply only increased Eddie's confusion.

"Like, today as in Friday is a bad day, or today as in... uh, August 22nd?"

Steve gave another choked sob, and Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose. Shit, he was fucking this up royally.

"S-sorry. Ugh, this is so stupid." Steve rubbed his eyes roughly, then ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

Eddie frowned, and, in a decision that he didn't take time to think through, he circled the couch and sat on the cushion next to Steve. Eddie then placed a hand on Steve's shoulder, squeezing once, twice. "Your emotions aren't stupid, baby. You're not stupid. What's going on? What can I do to help?" He thought he saw Steve's cheeks start to flush, but his hands moved to cover his entire face, so Eddie couldn't be sure what that was about.

The two sat quietly for a few minutes, the only sound in the room the low-volume crooning on Elton John surrounded by Muppet crocodiles. This show was a fucking fever dream. "Um- well, my parents called this morning, and I thought it was going to be to wish me Happy Birthday, that for once they'd remembered, but they were calling about wanting to sell the house, again, and it's just- fuck, it's just a lot. I've kinda just... been here since. Watching old reruns all day."

Eddie blinked, feeling a bit like he was drowning from that tidal wave of information. Still, one thing stuck out. "Stevie... today's your birthday?"

Steve chuckled humorlessly. "Yup. Officially 20."

"Oh... sweetheart, I'm sorry. If I'd known- if... wait, does anyone know?" Eddie didn't think as he moved his hand to brush a stray strand of hair away from Steve's face. Steve's cheeks flushed pink again, and seriously, what was that about?

Steve ducked his head, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Um... I think Nancy is the only one who knows. She snuck a look at my ID back when..." Steve trailed off. He took a steadying breath, then resumed. "She knows I don't like to make it a thing. I think tonight was her way of trying to celebrate, but I just... I forgot, and it's not that I like being alone more, it's just... easier?"

Eddie hummed in understanding. "I'm sorry you had to miss your own birthday party, darling. I'm sorry none of us knew- knew that it was today, knew what you were going through." Eddie placed his hand on Steve's knee, mentally working through how to fix the day.

"Thanks, Eds." Steve's hand moved to Eddie's, and he began fiddling with the rings on Eddie's fingers. If Steve could take a break from being cute, maybe Eddie could think better.

He'd been here all day, right? Did that mean... "Did you eat today, Stevie?"

"Hm?" Steve gave a distracted hum, then furrowed his brow in thought. "Nah. Just... been here. Haven't been hungry." Steve's stomach gave a betraying growl, and Eddie smirked.

"Not hungry my ass. What sounds good, honey? What do you have here?"

Steve shrugged, his expression growing guarded. "I-I don't know. Sorry. You don't have to- you can go, Eddie. I'll be fine here."

Eddie's heart broke a little. "I'm not leaving, Steve. Not on your birthday. Not like this. Why don't I go look in the kitchen and see what I can scrounge up, hm? Maybe you could find something to watch instead of..." Eddie turned towards the television, eyebrow raising at Kermit, now wearing a replica of Elton John's outfit. The Muppets writers room must have access to really, really good weed.

Steve followed Eddie's gaze, snorting out a laugh. "Not a Muppet fan, Eddie?" Steve didn't wait for Eddie to confirm or deny the allegation. Instead, he just gave Eddie's hand a squeeze. "I'll come up with something else. I've got some stuff I grabbed from Family Video's sale bin."

Eddie moved to stand from the couch, but Steve quickly wrapped his hand around Eddie's. "Um... thank you, Eddie. You don't have to do any of this- but you are and... I really..." Steve's eyes grew wet and he ducked his head down. "Thanks."

Eddie smiled. "Of course. I'll be right back, Steve." Eddie found the kitchen easily and began rummaging around, his thoughts wandering as he did. It was Steve's birthday. His parents called and didn't wish him Happy Birthday. They're trying to sell the house- does Steve have anywhere to go? How soon is this selling thing going to happen? Does anyone know? Why hasn't Steve said anything? He mentioned it wasn't the first time his parent's had asked about it...

Eddie let his thoughts consume him as he boiled some noodles and began heating canned tomato sauce. Spaghetti was really all Steve had ingredients for, and also seemed like the easiest thing for Steve to eat right now. He'd... never seen Steve like this before. He was always so brave. Hell, he was still being brave. Eddie probably wouldn't be able to cope if he got told that he and Wayne had to vacate their new home. It was hard enough getting kicked out of the trailer after the sudo-apocalypse.

Well... huh. That was a thought. Eddie's house. They did have more than enough room now. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms. The third bedroom was mostly storage, it would take less than an hour to clear out.

Eddie drained the noodles then stirred them into the sauce. He put two plates together, then returned to the Family Room. Steve was sitting quietly, watching the opening titles of Star Wars: A New Hope.

"Hey! Good choice, Stevie. An absolute classic. I found stuff for spaghetti, if that sounds good?" Eddie held out a plate, and Steve eagerly took it, a smile taking over his features. Eddie loved that smile. He would kiss that smile.

Wait, what?

"Thanks, Eds. Spaghetti is great. Perfect, actually. I really... I can't thank you enough. You've made the day so much better, and-" Steve glanced over at Eddie, and apparently saw something that made him pause. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Like what? Eddie could've said. Like I want to kiss you? Because that's a revelation I just had, and seeing as that's currently making me feel like I have a hoard of butterflies throwing a rave in my stomach, it's apparently a thought that I'm receptive to.

Instead, Eddie said: "Do you want to move in with me?"

Steve choked on his first bite of spaghetti, sputtering. "W-what?!"

"Fuck- sorry, ugh, I'm the worst at this- I just... I was thinking while I was cooking, and I realized- you said it was your birthday, but you also said that your parents called to talk about selling the house, and that it wasn't the first time they had said something about it, and I realized- um, maybe... maybe it was happening soon, whether you wanted it to or not. Maybe you were keeping it from all of us, because- you're brave, Steve. You're so brave. It makes sense- that you would think that you shouldn't- couldn't- burden us with something like this.

"But it's not a burden, Steve. You're not a burden. I-I can't imagine that finding a place to move has been very successful, what with Hawkins still rebuilding, and... well, Wayne and I ended up with the government-hush-money house, and they gave us way too much space. We have an entire empty bedroom right now. Which... why keep it empty if you need a place to live, y'know?

"You deserve good things, Steve. You've done so much for us... for me. You carried me out of hell, for fuck's sake. You saved my life. I- I care about you, and if I can do this small thing for you... fuck, man. It's no question. So... if you need a place still... um, move in with me?" Eddie punctuated his rant by taking a bite of spaghetti and ducking his head. Way to ramble on, Eds. Spot-on. Steve would definitely want to live with you after that absolute fuck-up of a request. Eddie swallowed his food, sparing a glance up at Steve as he did.

Steve was staring at him, face blank. Suddenly, Steve reached a hand towards Eddie's face, and for a split-second, he thought Steve was going to slap him or something.

Instead, Steve cradled his cheek, leaned forward, and-

Oh.

They were kissing. Steve's lips against his, the pad of Steve's thumb soft against Eddie's stubbled cheek.

Steve broke the kiss as quickly as he had initiated it, making a move like he was going to run off, but Eddie reacted before he could, lifting his hand to lay over Steve's on his own cheek, his other hand moving to cradle Steve's cheek. He smiled against Steve's lips, and Steve melted into his hold.

"I- I should've asked to kiss you, I'm sorry. I just... I've never- no one has ever said so many good things about me, and you've done so much, and... I've been waiting to do that for months, and I didn't really think, it just-" Steve was rambling now, and Eddie cut him off with another kiss.

"It's okay, baby. I... I think I only just came to my senses and realized that I've been crushing on you for a while, too. That's not why I asked you to move in, but... well, I guess there's even more reason to have you live with us, now." Eddie chuckled, giving Steve another chaste kiss.

Steve blushed, which suddenly explained every other flush of the cheeks that Steve had exhibited that evening. "I really appreciate it, Eddie. I would love to move in with you. My parents are coming in two days to make sure all my stuff is out so they can just sell the place, furniture and all, and I- I haven't been able to process it, so I just..." A tear slipped down Steve's cheek, which Eddie quickly wiped away.

"Oh baby. I'm so sorry." Steve's breath hitched again, and Eddie moved to pull his boy into a hug. Steve burrowed his face in Eddie's shoulder, and Eddie's hand found a home carding through Steve's hair. "Let's just relax tonight, hm? Have dinner, finish Star Wars, we can have a sleepover out here. Then in the morning we can tackle the packing situation. How does that sound, sweetheart?"

Steve nodded against Eddie's shoulder. "Sounds like a plan then, Stevie." They sat curled together for a few more minutes, until Steve's stomach gave another loud growl, forcing them apart so Steve could finish his dinner. Their legs stayed tangled together, and they continued to sneak glances at each other, a knowing smile traded between the two of them whenever their eyes met.

Long after their food was finished and the TV had gone to static, Steve and Eddie laid out on the couch, curled together. Steve was on top of Eddie, his face next to Eddie's ear, as Eddie carded his hand through Steve's hair- his new favorite pastime.

"Thanks for the birthday gift, Eds." Steve's tired whisper pulled Eddie from the sleepy haze he had slipped into, making him blink his eyes open.

Eddie smiled. "Happy birthday, baby." He pressed a kiss to the side of Steve's head and let his eyes close again.

Eddie knew this was the honeymoon phase, but he had a feeling that, with Steve, their relationship would always feel this way. He couldn't wait to have that feeling confirmed as they ventured into their futures together.

[loserboyfriendrjl]

sirius looked at orion from the doorway.

“grow up,” the man said, standing in front of the high arched window. his features were slightly lit up by the pale moonlight. “soon, you will be the heir of this house, and i expect you to act as such. you are not to display emotion and vulnerability, and it is forbidden of you to surround yourself with people like the potters.”

“what if i don’t want to do this?” sirius asked, and he felt eleven again. he felt his father’s fingers digging in his shoulder and his mother’s thin fingers keeping him in place. he remembered the conversation he had with his father, of what he was allowed to do and what he was allowed to do, the mere start to an already-paved destiny.

“you do not have a choice.” his voice was harsh, and sirius flinched slightly. “you will be wedded to whom your mother and i decide to and you will follow in our footsteps. it has always been this way, and it will continue as such. you are not special, and you will not be an exception.”

“you cannot force me to do anything,” sirius said, quietly, although, in another instance, he would have been brave. sirius, who always burned brightly and with passion, was reduced to nothing with his father’s imposing presence. sirius, who was loud and brash and unapologetically himself, was nothing before his father’s steel eyes.

orion turned on his heel, glaring at sirius. “i knew you were useless. i do not know what your mother could possibly see in you, when you are just a disobedient, idiotic child. your friends might lie to you and tell you that you are important and that they love you, but they,” he hissed, “are lying to you.”

“no, they are not,” sirius whispered, more to convince himself than anyone else.

“you are too loud, too selfish, too much. you are unlovable, sirius, and i am telling you this before no one else will.”

sirius felt like he was suffocating. his father passed right by him, looking at him for the last time. sirius avoided his piercing gaze, but his father grabbed his face, and made his son look at him; anger in his eyes, emptiness in orion’s.

“dinner will be ready in half an hour. do not make us wait for you.”

[jasperyourmutt]

Thank fucking god for doctors who give a shit about your health. I just met my new doctor who is going to be prescribing my T and I feel so relieved to have someone who actually CARES

[unma]

In relation to the tags on the post about my birthday: I wonder if its normal to be unable to remember what happened on your birthday two years ago or before that. I guess if I looked at the dates and check when I graduated from secondary school (the first time) I could remember a few things, but I'm beginning to remember my memory is real spotty.

[lunarharp]

qifrey's birthday and silly stuff

[thelovers-thedreamers-and-me]

the downside to being a sitcom neighbour sort of person is that when rough things happen and emotionally fuck u up a lil bit, it also sounds completely made up

[dollsome-does-tumblr]

so, the most recent novel i managed to actually finish writing, three long years ago, was the book of my absolute lifelong dreams and most of the time i just leave it sitting on my computer and pretend it doesn't exist because i feel too tenderly about it and i'm too proud of it and it's agony to me. these feelings are, for whatever reason, unbearable hell. but like once a year i work up the courage to reread it, and every time i'm like, "god DAMN! who wrote this?? this is exactly what i've wanted to read my whole life!!!!!!! it's simply delightful!" and then i remember that oh yeah, it's me!

[lovsome]

hii