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#as me and my fiance
waterghostype · 4 months
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shit postings
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thefreakandthehair · 11 months
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The thing about drinking at 31 years old is that it's different from drinking at 18 years old– or 21 years old, or even 25 years old. Each shot, each drink, is one sip away from a terrible night’s sleep and an equally terrible morning.
Eddie Munson’s figured this out. Steve Harrington though? Steve Harrington has not. 
That’s how Eddie finds himself corralling his husband onto the couch after stumbling into the house, the front door slamming loud enough to jolt their cat out of her otherwise peaceful slumber. She glares for a moment before stretching her paws and curling back into a neat little ball. 
“Okay, okay, okay,” Steve repeats, an immediate tell that he’s definitely not making it any further than the couch anyways. “I’m good, I’m fine, this– this is a nice couch.” He punctuates his thought by slapping the cushion and laughing. 
Eddie shakes his head and grins. “Yep, it sure is. You picked it out, remember?” 
Steve gasps and laughs some more, falling back into the corner of the sectional. “I don’t but it’s comfy so if I did, I did a good fucking job.”
He watches with fond comfortability as Steve squirms around on the couch and lays back, arms over his head and dopey laugh still on his lips. It takes a lot of willpower and frankly, respect, not to climb on top of this giggly, flushed, disheveled man he loves so goddamn much and kiss him until he’s flushed for other reasons, but he digs deep and focuses on doing the next best thing: taking care of him. Eddie’s a little worse for the wear in his own right but a sliver of his iron constitution remains from his wild youth and he hangs on by a thread. 
Eddie gets Steve situated into a comfortable position, his back against one side of the cushions and his head propped up on a few pillows to make sure he doesn’t end up with his face smushed into the corner somehow. 
“I’m good, I’m fine– hey, hey, what are you doing?” Steve slurs and Eddie looks up from his position at the end of the couch, his fingers moving quickly as he unties Steve’s sneakers. 
“Taking your shoes off? You can’t sleep in your jeans, Stevie. You’ll thank me tomorrow.” 
Steve hums from somewhere high in his throat but doesn’t say anything else Eddie moves to unhook his belt. 
“Stop–stop it, hey, I’m married!” Steve smacks Eddie’s hand and Eddie barely suppresses a cackle. “You’re hot and all but I’m married and my husband’s hotter than you anyways.” 
With that, Eddie can’t stop himself. Warmth spreads through his chest as he laughs, from his heart all the way down to the tingling in his toes. Even drunk, even with his eyes closed, Steve would still choose him without a thought and sure, after all these years, it shouldn’t come as a surprise but it does. Because Steve is Steve, and Eddie is Eddie, and Eddie still hasn’t figured out what huge karmic debt he must’ve paid for them to have become SteveAndEddie.
He stares at Steve who’s nearly asleep but feebly muttering words like “hot,” and “perfect,” and “lucky.” 
“Hey, hey, Stevie, open your eyes for a second?” Eddie brushes the hair back from his forehead, gently shifting it away from his bloodshot, glossy eyes. He’s beautiful, even like this, what the fuck?
“Oh,” Steve’s eyebrow unfurrow and the right side of his mouth turns up into a small grin. “It’s you. Hi, Ed.” 
“Hi, Steve.” Eddie chuckles and kisses his forehead. “Gonna get your jeans off so you can sleep, okay?” 
“Mhm, yeah, that’s– thanks.” 
Eddie coaxes them off, tossing them onto a chair where they’ll remain until the next morning, and sets a glass of water down on the coffee table for when Steve inevitably wakes up with cottonmouth. One more soft kiss and an even softer blanket later, Steve is out and Eddie tip toes up the stairs to bed. 
The next morning, Eddie wakes to see Steve next to him. At some point, he must’ve woken up and gotten himself to bed which gives Eddie the opportunity to stare uninterrupted in the silence of their bedroom. It stands in stark contrast to the boisterous night before– the loud music and jumping bodies and Chrissy popping a bottle of champagne in celebration of Robin saying yes, as if there’d ever been a doubt. 
Steve’s on his back, the sun just starting to intrude on their tranquility. He takes in Steve’s features, the same ones he’s memorized time and time again but that never fail to stun him just the same. The moles, the freckles, the scars that make him ache and feel thankful simultaneously. The strong line of his jaw, the eyelashes that flutter as he sleeps, that one tendril of hair that insists on curling until Steve forces it into place. Eddie’s seen a lot of the world now, having traveled a bit with his band, and there’s nothing that compares to the man sleeping next to him. 
Even if he’s snoring. 
When Steve does eventually wake up, trudging downstairs with one eye open and asking why Long Island Iced Tea’s even exist, Eddie’s ready with the necessities– a black iced coffee, two sausage, egg, and cheese sandwiches delivered to their doorstep, and a Gatorade for himself. 
“You’re the fucking best, you know that?” Steve smiles through the pounding headache as he sips his coffee and tears into the sandwich. 
“Eh, I try,” Eddie grins with a mouthful of egg and leans over to bump their shoulders together. 
Comfortable quiet drapes over them like the blanket from last night still over the back of the couch, and like the jeans hanging off the recliner– little reminders of the night before and of the domesticity of the life they’ve built together. 
Once Steve finishes his sandwich, their cat, Florence, hops up on the table and starts batting at the rolled up wrappers. 
“Think she wants to play,” Steve grumbles, sliding off the couch and laying on the carpet. “Listen, Florence, you know I love you but kid, I cannot play right now. I’m barely alive.” 
Eddie doubles over and nearly spits Gatorade all over the coffee table. Even their terrible, hungover, washed up mornings aren't all that bad.
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deerspherestudios · 3 months
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What would be a good gift for Mycheal? I know he considers rice a treat and reads books. Would he want food or new books? WHAT DOES THE PRETTY BOY LIKE??? 👀
Since it's the holidays I thought this ask would be appropriate! ::-D
He'd appreciate literally anything you give him. Whether it be food, clothes, toys, silly little knickknacks - he's never had anyone give him something intended as a gift. Normally people give him stuff out of pity or they were forced to.
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I think he'd love fun, silly, useless things best, if that makes sense! He can get his own groceries or clothes, but he wouldn't think to get something ridiculous/unnecessary like a family of garden gnomes, or clown noses, or perhaps a giant stack of origami paper for example.
He'd be thrilled to have it just for the sake of it being a fun surprise haha. (And knowing it's from you makes it better!)
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cassanderasblog · 10 months
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Jdvdkeehkdbdksdudh Not him telling me what he want to name our kids!!
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My husband is so sweet!!! I wanna die
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juneviews · 1 month
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"This is Super My Boyfriend Chef."
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tim-lucy · 1 year
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Tamara went from feeling out of place with Tim there to feeling so comfortable that she literally pulled them apart while they were kissing and came out so Tim would make her pancakes 🥺 
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valeriianz · 7 months
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I've had this Dreaming The Proposal AU sitting in my drafts for a while. Then @voukkake comes out with this art and I figured it was time to brush off the dust and share what I'd written lol. This is seriously all I'm going to write so if anyone is interested I'm begging you to pick this up. I'm dying to read Dream awkwardly interacting with Hob's family (also @valiantstarlights suggestion that Betty White is Destiny?? ABSOLUTELY BRILLIANT). Anyway...
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Dream is about to be deported because his visa application has been denied. He is in the middle of a meeting with his lawyers when Hob, his secretary, pops in the room to inform Dream of a very important phone call and Dream comes up with the insane plan to marry Hob to keep his immigration status.
He gestures for Hob to come over and Hob, clueless, wanders into the room and stands next to Dream, who takes him by the arm and tugs him just a little bit further to stand awkwardly close.
Dream announces their engagement and Hob stands there, shell shocked and feels his mouth moving against his will. That yeah, they are getting married. They are in love, sure. It isn’t until they leave the office, following Dream back to his, that Hob’s brain seems to come back online.
“What just happened in there?”
Dream grouses, head down, already back to his work as if nothing happened. Like he didn’t just use Hob as a pawn in his scheme to get around his denied visa application.
“They were going to make Morningstar editor-in-chief.” Is all Dream says, disdain dripping from every word. He still hasn’t looked up.
Hob stands there, still as a statue. His head is swimming with words, with emotions. Anger, disbelief, betrayal… and a small tiny flicker of undeniable interest that he hastily stomps out.
He manages to put the pieces together rather quickly though, while Dream continues sifting through paperwork.
“This is illegal,” Hob manages to croak out, brows furrowing. 
“Oh, please. The government looks for terrorists, not book publishers.” Dream’s head is still down in his paperwork.
Hob blinks, taking a step up to Dream’s desk. “I'm not marrying you.”
“Sure you are.” Dream sets aside a stack of papers and finally gives Hob his attention. “Because if you don't, your dreams of ‘touching millions of lives with the written word’ are dead.” 
Hob’s jaw drops. That was a line, corny as it was, that he’d used in the panel interview for this job. Three years ago.
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“Were you not in that room? I could get fined, I’ll go to jail over this. If you want me on this deal, you will promote me to editor.”
Without even glancing up from his phone, Dream scoffs.
“Absolutely not.”
“Well then I guess you’re screwed. Buh-bye.” Hob turns with a flourish and has to bite back a grin at how Dream splutters behind him and grabs him by the arm.
“Fine– fine! Editor.” His face seems to go through the five stages of grief. He drops his hold on Hob.
“And You’ll publish my manuscript.” Hob throws in. In for a penny.
Dream’s brows narrow and he shakes as if he’s physically controlling the urge to stamp his foot.
“Sure. I’ll publish your hack manuscript.”
“Good.” Hob slips his hands in his pants pockets, staring at Dream, deciding on one last nail in the coffin.
“Now do it properly.”
Dream cocks an eyebrow. “Do what properly?”
“Propose. Like you mean it.”
Dream’s entire body seizes up, but he manages not to let it show, distracting himself by slipping his phone in the pocket of his expensive slacks and clasping his hands in front of him.
“Will you marry me?”
“No.” Hob, the arrogant bastard, is visibly biting back a smirk. “Say it like you mean it.”
Dream takes a long, steadying breath through his nose.
“Hob Gadling. Will you–”
“And get on your knees.”
Dream absolutely refuses to decipher the thrill that shoots through his body at Hob’s command. Instead he keeps his mask of irritation and indifference on as he scans the crowd around them. They are still outside the courthouse, and the concrete sidewalk is going to potentially tear Dream’s Hugo Boss black wool pants.
So he carefully lowers himself, scowling as the smirk on Hob’s face only widens as Dream slowly settles onto the ground.
Once he’s as comfortable as Dream’s going to get, he clears his throat.
“Hob Gadling,” he glares at his subordinate from under his lashes. “Will you fucking marry me?”
Hob curls his lips in mock consideration, looking up past Dream’s head. He rocks back on his heels and nods with a forlorn sigh.
“Okay.” He still hasn’t met Dream’s gaze. “Could've done without the sarcasm but it will do. See you at the airport tomorrow.” 
And turns and walks away, leaving Dream to fend for himself on the ground.
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khairosclerosis · 9 months
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⚖️ OH the misery... EVERY SINGLE PERSON is my ENEMY
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gelu-vulpes · 9 months
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okay this post is for the boys who love horror but are also cowards, i see you and i will hold your hand if you'd like<3
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hauntzbin · 1 month
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i feel like it's pretty safe to assume the people who say Chaggie is toxic because of Vaggie's attachment to Charlie haven't really been deeply in love before, especially not in a situation where their partner literally saved their life.
Sure a dynamic like that could go sour if you become too overbearing/demanding or controlling out of fear of losing them, but Vaggie is very obviously not that?
I can't exactly put the feeling into words, it's sort of a situation you have to experience in order to understand. But when you owe someone your life, especially when it feels that person is also your soulmate, of course you dedicate the rest of it to making them happy and giving unyielding support. Of course you feel like you owe them the world, because they're your whole world and the only reason you're even still here.
Yes it can create a power imbalance and your partner could take advantage of the obsessive loyalty that level of dependency breeds, but Charlie chooses not to because shes not abusive and she respects and loves vaggie.
Charlie recognizes that Vaggie has self worth issues and places her value in how useful she is to her, and instead of making it into a toxic situation charlie takes the time to reassure vaggie that she doesn't need to be 'proving' herself and that she is loved and valued as she is.
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pastalbird · 7 months
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Edit: YouTube Link in case it doesn't work!
And Spotify sob
This took me about 2-3 months to complete. I had a vision pretty much ever since I listened to this song, and though it's messy, I still hope y'all enjoy it.
This is very sketchy and not detailed(i made this on my phone with no pen, haha), but here are the trigger warnings just in case!
TW: Blood/Mouth Trauma/Limb Loss/Injuries
Alt Text contains lyrics and panel descriptions
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Thank you for reading! I really hope y'all liked it! (:: !
To the Blackrock crew/Yogs (if any of you guys see this?)
I can't put into words how much I love this series, as well as many others. Without it, I don't know who or where I'd be today. Blackrock brought me into a gateway to your other stuff, which has always made me cry laughing and smile big. It really means the world to me.
Thank you for everything! 💕
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professional-sinner · 4 months
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I couldn't find a source for this image but I need more ✝️
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gianttol · 9 months
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<3
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admiralexclipse · 2 months
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sharing the birdbath (ft @reachartwork)
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thefreakandthehair · 1 year
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(this is not at all based on my personal experience this week with a water main break and myself having grown up as a trailer park kid and my fiance as... not)
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It's 2006 when Eddie and Steve buy a small little 2-bedroom house and all is going well until there's a water main break in their neighborhood. Thankfully, it's fixed quickly but there's something called a "boil water precaution" until the water company tests for bacteria, etc. The recording instructs them not to drink, consume, or really use the water much at all until they receive a follow-up with an all-clear. Steve has no idea what the fuck is happening or what that even means; meanwhile, Eddie just sighs, shoves himself off the couch, and trudges into the kitchen.
"What-- what are you doing, Ed?" Steve stares, confused, in the doorway of the kitchen. Eddie's got three big pots out, filling them with water from the tap, and sets them all to high heat on the stovetop.
"Boiling water? You heard the same automated call I did, right?" Eddie stares back at Steve, equally as confused but for different reasons.
"But, why don't I just, I dunno, go to the store and get a couple packs of water bottles? Or a big jug?"
Eddie freezes on the spot-- in all the many, many times he'd seen his folks and then Wayne boil water for him to drink, he'd never considered that as an option because it was never proposed as an option. Money was tight, boiling water was free, and that was simple math.
"I-- well, yeah. Huh. I guess, yeah, I guess we could do that." Eddie chuckles to himself, turning the burners off and feeling a slight sting of embarrassment. It's been years now, and he knows that Steve doesn't look down on him for his upbringing but reminders like this of how impoverished his childhood was compared to Steve's will always hit that tender spot in his chest.
Steve clocks the lack of eye contact, the soft voice, the hunched shoulders when he starts emptying pots over the dirty dishes they'd meant to wash but would now have to wait. He crosses the threshold of their little peach kitchen ("we are painting this room immediately, Steve") and takes the pot from Eddie's hands, pouring the rest out himself.
"Y'know, it's actually pretty cool that you know how to do shit like that. Make something from nothing, fix problems."
Eddie rolls his eyes, just a touch. "You do too, I was with you through the whole almost-apocalypse thing, remember?"
Steve huffs out of his nose. Of course he remembers that. That's how they'd ended up here in the first place, but that's not his point. Once the last of the three pots is emptied, Steve pulls Eddie into him, hugging him so tight and swaying him side to side until Eddie finally laughs.
"Y'know I love you, right?"
Eddie pushes back just enough to look at Steve with his warm eyes, salt and peppery hair starting to crop up just at his temple, and arms still wound tight around his waist.
And yeah, there are a few things Eddie Munson knows for sure: boil water if the pressure was cut off for too long, a can of beans and white rice make a damn good meal, and Steve Harrington? Well, Steve Harrington loves him.
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blessyouhawkeye · 7 months
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constantly thinking about how when iris and barry were doing the therapy thing and talking about all the trauma/grieving they'd been through iris lists leonard snart as a trauma on par with her fiancé and her mom and then barry says "we've been to a lot of funerals" going crazy over the implications. did they have a funeral for snart. is she including him because barry is traumatized over that loss or is she too. why did she include leonard snart in that list and not fucking henry allen. why is snart's name the one that makes barry cede and admit they've been through a lot. what the fuck is going on.
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