#because he knows they can't legally

[metalhoops]

Steddie Week Day 5: 

Together/ Established Relationship / Hold the Line by Toto 

Eddie would give everything for a lifetime of Sunday mornings with Steve. He’d never expected anything good in his life to last before Steve. The first year they’d spent together, he’d been waiting for it to end with bated breath. He’d wake up in a cold sweat and reach for the familiar warmth of Steve’s body as a sick animal searches for a cool, dry place to die. 

He’d cross the distance between them, however great or small, and bury himself beneath Steve’s back, so he could feel the rise and fall of his breaths as something tangible. That way, if the boy left, he’d know. 

Steve’s body was the grave dirt he wanted to be buried beneath. If ever he were to pick a final resting place, that’d be it. A year turned into two, and somewhere along the way, Eddie stopped waiting for things to go wrong. 

Steve had his own nightly routine. There were habits that persisted well past the time Eddie had expected them to fade into obscurity. On the bad nights, he’d feel Steve jolt awake at his side with a shaky gasp. He’d roll over and press his hand to Eddie’s side, hoping to hold him together, as though the distant nightmare of seven years ago were still a freshly healing scab and not the faded, pink scar tissue Eddie knew it to be. 

Eddie wasn’t a romantic. He’d grown up in a broken home where the word ‘love’ was only used to mean an apology. His mother and father would keep the street dogs barking until the morning birds sang with their screams. Then come sunrise, his father would take his mother’s face into his hands and say ‘I love you’, in the way Eddie knew meant ‘I’m sorry.’ 

Eddie and Steve weren’t used to having people in their corner worth losing. That made keeping each other all the more important. Eddie was reminded of how much he had to lose every Sunday morning when he woke up with Steve’s limbs flung haphazardly over his body. It was the one day they kept obligation free. No jobs. No laundry. No kids, who really weren’t kids anymore. Just the two of them.

For once, Eddie was the first one up. He hadn’t been able to sleep. He was too busy trying not to think. Instead, he traced the familiar landmarks of Steve’s skin. He walked the path of freckles and moles dotting their way up the other man’s arm and lingered on the tiny silver scar at his elbow. It was the one he’d gotten from falling off his bike when he was seven. 

Eddie wasn’t a forever kind of guy, but Steve was. If you’d told Eddie back in high school, he’d be in a relationship for seven years, he’d say that was forever. Jesus, it’d gone quick. He wanted more forevers with Steve. 

“Mornin’ already?” Steve spoke, peering bleary-eyed around the room, his voice gravel road rough. 

“Same time every day,” Eddie confirmed, peering down at the man on his chest.

Age had changed them in ways Eddie only noticed in pictures. They were still young. He reminded himself, with more urgency than necessary. Eddie had more tattoos to cover up the scars he knew they’d both rather forget. 

Then there was Steve. His trademark hair was longer than when they first started dating. Eddie liked to joke that he looked like Kurt Cobain if Kurt Cobain knew how to style his hair. He’d also learnt to sport barely-there stubble on the days he couldn’t be bothered to shave. 

“You’re staring,” Steve remarked, hiding his face in the crook of Eddie’s shoulder. 

“You’re beautiful,” Eddie commented, and he meant it. He really goddamn meant it. 

“Flattery doesn’t work with me, Munson,” Steve grumbled, moving to pull the covers up over their heads, hiding them from the morning. Eddie didn’t care. He had nowhere to be. 

He dipped his head, placing a chased kiss on Steve’s lips, and watched as the man’s nose scrunched. 

“Morning breath,” He groaned as he pulled back. 

“You love it,” Eddie teased, trailing kisses down Steve’s jaw.

His lips lingered on the spot he knew made the man exhale sharply through his nose. It was right near another crooked scar Steve got on his twenty-second birthday. He’d been drunk and had fallen into the pool, clipping his jaw on the cement ledge. Eddie had the painful job of trying to extract Steve’s tooth from his lip as the boy cursed like a sailor and squirmed like a worm. 

“I love you, there’s a difference,” Steve chuckled and pushed Eddie back, examining his face. 

He traced the dark circles beneath Eddie’s eyes. He was long past the point of being self-conscious with Steve. The man had seen him in all manner of undress and unflattering angles. He chose to stay with him anyway. That’s what love was, wasn’t it? Choosing each other over and over again, every day- forever. 

“You look like shit,” Steve spoke candidly. 

“Oh honeybear, you wound me,” Eddie breathed, clutching his chest with all the overdramatised fervour his sleep-deprived body could muster. 

“What’re you thinking about?” Steve asked, pulling his hand back. 

“Quitting my job, getting the band back together, going on tour and dragging your ass across the country... Maybe getting a dog.” Steve hummed and traced the outline of the faded-blue demon tattoo on his chest.

“And that’s why you haven’t slept all week, right?” Steve repeated sceptically. Eddie was going to have to do this now, wasn’t he? 

“Steve,” Eddie spoke, hating how his voice shook. His body was betraying him.

Steve’s head snapped up. His brows furrowed, painting his face with concern. He’d screwed this up already, hadn’t he? 

“What’s wrong? I’m only ‘Steve’ when you’re pissed off, or it’s something serious,” the man observed. 

Eddie didn’t know how to respond. He hadn’t planned what he was going to say- alright, that was a lie. He’d tried to plan it. Hell, he’d tried to write a whole damn script, but it’d felt wrong. He’d thought when the moment came he’d know what to say. Turned out, he was wrong.

“Was it because I took your notebooks off the table? Because I told you it’s cool you use it like a desk, but we need someplace to eat so you’ve gotta put your shit away when you’re done with it,” Steve began. 

It was an old, familiar argument he didn’t have time to get into that morning.  

“It’s not about the table,” Eddie sighed and felt Steve shift. 

He sat up and pulled the covers from their heads, letting the morning light in. This was a conversation to have in daylight. 

“Are you okay?” Steve pushed, trepidation in his voice.

It was 1993 and even if they’d never sat down and talked about what was going on with the rest of their community, they’d both seen it first-hand. No. Eddie wasn’t going to let the morning be about that either. 

“I’m okay, Stevie. Promise,” Eddie assured, wrapping his pinkie around Steve’s and placing a kiss to their intertwined fingers. 

“You know, I think a lot of things we’ve gotta do are bullshit, right?” Eddie began, crossing his legs and pulling Steve into his lap. The man shot him a confused look but nodded. 

“Nine-to-five? Bullshit. Conforming to society? Bullshit. Growing up-.”

“Let me guess, bullshit?” Steve breathed and Eddie snorted. 

“Yeah. But you and me? I think we’re the one thing in this world that’s not bullshit.” 

Steve gave him a look Eddie knew too well. It was an echo of his ‘King Steve’ days, only a little softer around the edges. The look told Eddie Steve thought he was talking shit, but he was trying to be polite and not bring it up.

“Right,” Steve hummed thoughtfully. 

“I’m not finished. Hold your bitchy comments until the end, dude,” Eddie snorted. 

“Up until you, I thought relationships were... I’m going to stop saying bullshit. I thought they were for other people. And I also thought- shit. Alright. I’m doing this, aren’t I...?” Eddie huffed and pushed Steve back from him, leaning over to rummage around in his bedside drawer. He was really doing this. No turning back now. 

He pulled out one of his favourite rings. It was a little more understated than the others, but it belonged to his Uncle Wayne, so it was his favourite. He turned back to see Steve. The man had gone pale. Finally, the guy was catching on. Here Eddie was thinking he’d never be able to surprise Steve again with how well they knew one another. 

“I know we can’t get married, Steve. But I know how much you want to and it surprised the hell out of me, but I want that too. I don’t need a shitty piece of paper to know what you mean to me. We could have a party, invite Wayne, Robin and the kids over,” Eddie was rambling, his hands trembling as he passed the ring to Steve. 

The guy looked seconds from crying or laughing, frozen in a half grin, half grimace. God, Eddie hoped that was a good sign. 

“You haven’t asked the question yet, Eds,” Steve breathed, his lip twitching. Oh, that was a smile. A wave of relief crashed over Eddie. 

“I want to be with you, Steve, forever. Will you marry me?” 

Steve surged forward, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s shoulders and sending them both toppling backwards. Eddie could feel the man nod against his skin.

“I-,” Steve began, but paused when his voice sounded wet. 

He sniffed and buried his face deeper into Eddie’s body. Steve hated anyone seeing him cry, even Eddie, especially Eddie. He waited, knowing the answer from the half-moon crescents Steve’s fingers were leaving in his skin.

Steve pulled back after a moment. 

“Alright, on one condition,” He huffed, his voice still sounding rough. 

“It’s always conditions with you,” Eddie teased, moving his free hand to Steve’s back, rubbing circles into his skin, trying to calm him down.

He knew how to put on a brave face, but Eddie understood marriage meant more to Steve than it did to him. 

“Promise to clean your shit off the kitchen table and I’ll marry you,” Steve proposed. Eddie couldn’t help but laugh. 

“How about this? I promise to clean up the table, if you promise to keep your crap on your side of the bathroom. Then we can get married.” 

Steve pressed his lips to Eddie’s, morning breath be damned.

“You’ve got yourself a deal.” 

[jadewritesficshere]

Eddie, who is intently watching Steve, fidgeting every so often. If Eddie was a cat, his tail would be flicking back and forth with rapid increasing movements as he got ready to attack.

Steve, who was so innocently watching the game, happens to realize he hasn't heard Eddie say anything for awhile. Which means one (1) thing: he's up to mischief.

Steve barely has time to turn his head to look when Eddie tackles into him. Steve falls back further onto the couch with a grunt as his boyfriend wrenches his shirt up. "The hell-" Steve's hands are in the air, unsure if he should pull Eddie closer or push him away.

The hesitation gives Eddie enough time to attempt to slither under his shirt. Eddie can only fit his head and the tops of his shoulders under Steve's form-fitting t-shirt, but it's enough. His eyes light up at the torso covered in hair and freckles.

Eddie lays his head against Steve's chest with a dull thud, echoing the thudding of Steve's heart. Eddie snakes his arms around Steve's waist. Eddie can feel Steve slowly place a hand on his back, and stroke up and down his spine.

Steve lightly pulls the neck back so he can look down his shirt at Eddie. Eddie doesn't see it, the look on his face, content to just lay there with his eyes closed. But the adoration, love, and pure glee can't be held back on Steve's face.

[winepresswrath]

tbh all jiang cheng ships are hypothetically good to me because jiang cheng is just so not in a good place for dating or marriage. no one should wife him up which is why anyone wifing him up has great comedy potential. it is a situation you're putting him in where he's forced to cope with intimacy and the possibility of betrayal or rejection. he's going be thinking about his parents' marriage except for the times he's going to be thinking about his sister and his redacted. and also there is the potential for someone to die horribly and leave him alone with a baby. again.

[phoenixcatch7]

Combining 'cap is presumed to be kryptonian' with the divine twitch chat with what the wiki calls straight up clairvoyance to create 'cap is assumed to be superman's ancestor come here from krypton millenia ago to protect and guide us'.

Because a) like superman, marvel is widely believed to have no secret identity at all - he bares his face entirely! He's a huge kinda dorky wall of muscle who never says anything worse than heck, everything about that stands out. It's assumed they jet off to the same place on their downtime, the famous fortress of solitude.

B) cap may not have a Supers senses, but between his almost precognition, his uncanny ability to pick up lies, his tendency to suddenly pause and listen to someone unheard before randomly jetting off, and his occasional one sided discussions that leave him with more information than he had before, it's pretty easily implied he has them (it's the chat piping in. He's gotten quite good at filtering out the actually important information).

C) no one really knows how aliens age anyway - and with magic, who knows what an already op hyper advanced alien race could do??? There's substantial proof cap has been around for MILLENIA, if you know where to look (that fact that a good chunk of stuff is Black Adam distresses Billy no end, but it doesn't seem like he left any trace of his evil doings (he rules a country, and ancient murals of you summoning hordes of demons to decimate the earth does not good pr make). He's probably immortal! He talks like he is, sometimes.

D) supes and cap get on really well! Almost... Unusually well. (the Internet reads too much into two dudes who aren't afraid of emotions finding unexpected kinship in their hero life.) there's definitely something else going on there and everyone knows superman is head over heels for batman so it's not that.

E) he's a captain! He's a champion! Apparently his home base can be accessed anywhere in the universe??? Like, say, another planet??

So why did he come to earth? Why did he really only emerge again now, after centuries of total radio silence? It was... Right after superman debuted... Well, give or take a few years, but what's that to an immortal being?!

A jl member brings up the rumours during a meeting and Billy nearly chokes trying not spittake at the justice league table. Superman blue screens visibly.

Then someone asks cap if he's sure his body is human, and??? IS IT??!!! The wizard would have said something, right??!! Ghost or not??

The delay is just long enough to make the gossip mongers interested.

[sysig]

Let him dad her!! (Patreon)

[dystopiagnome]

I got a new laptop.

[lorekeeper-backset]

Sometimes, in their quest for shipping, fandoms completely miss the point.

[buttercup-barf]

Under the cut are mostly self-insert doodles of decreasing quality. Again, not much directly tied to Team Fortress 2. Might as well toss these out while I have no access to my puter. Much yapping under the cut and in the tags incoming.

Another self-insert, this time less of a "here's me as a tenth class" and more of a "here's my game experiences translated into the class I would take the place of". The Cleaner. Although I guess they could still be wearing either suit. It doesn't matter that much.

That one Convict's Case taunt with Backup would be extremely funny, because the man would be on the verge of a breakdown (he does not want to go to jail so bad you have no idea). The second image- I owe no explanation. You know what I am. You see the pattern with my favourites.

The duality of the man. Resting face versus "just heard you express interest in religion/Russian folklore" face. He's not that hard to make friends with, when you pull him away from all the explosions.

Some doodles of trying to figure his face out. Unfortunately, the more I stare at him, the more I worry that he looks like A Certain Guy With The Last Name "Kazarin", and the fear of never being original in my life caught up to me.

Don't look at me, don't perceive me, I refuse to explain any of my actions to you.

[jessicas-pi]

y'know I'm a little surprised that the Princess Bride reference didn't win, but then again, this one is also a great choice

Sabine’s face is set in determination. “Okay, I’m gonna ask you a really weird question, and I need you to be honest.”

“Sure.”

“Completely honest.”

Ezra nods. “Of course. What is it?”

“If I asked you to, would you fake-marry me?”

Ezra stares at her.

“…would I fake-marry you?”

“Yes. If I asked, would you? Because—” She sucks in a breath of air, and he can sense her spiking anxiety. “Because, you’re my best friend and if I had to choose someone to spend the rest of my life with it would be you, and my family thinks you’re great, and—and if we were fake-married then when I go back to the Ghost you could have the bottom bunk in my room and you wouldn’t have to share with Zeb anymore, and it would be fun, right? And—when we’re older, maybe we could adopt a kid, or a Padawan, and let’s be honest, it would be hilarious for the Countess of Clan Wren to have a Jedi son-in-law, and you don’t have to say yes, obviously, this is just random and hypothetical and—okay, it’s not hypothetical, but you can say no and I’d understand, but—”

He interrupts her with a touch on the arm.

“Sabine.”

She winces and looks away, but Ezra smiles.

“I would totally fake-marry you.”

Sabine meets his eyes instantly. “Really?”

“Really. We’ve been fake-dating for two years; this is just the logical next step, right?” he jokes, but she stays serious.

“You don’t need time to think about it?”

“No. Honest.”

For a second, their gazes hold, and then Sabine nearly tackles him over in the second enormous hug she’s given him that day.

“Thank you,” she whispers, squeezing him tightly for a second before letting go, and she sounds so relieved that it makes him wonder if there’s some bigger reason she wants to fake-marry him. (Probably complicated Mandalorian politics.) “You’re actually kind of great, Ezra Bridger.”

“And somehow it took you this long to figure it out,” he banters back.

“Very funny.” She punches his arm with a laugh, then clasps his hands and meets his eyes and smiles so warmly that he would think there was something more behind it, if he didn’t know there wasn’t. “So, who are we thinking for wedding guests?”

Ezra thinks for a moment pretending to be solemn, then cracks a grin. “Can we invite all the guys who said you were out of my league and pity-dating me?”

“Only if I can paint Chopper pink and make him our flower droid.”

“Deal.”

[mukuharakazui]

this is a funny as fuck dialogue option for when you're playing a dead-birth-parents-rogue who just so happens to be mixed. get gathened idiot.

[almoststedytimetravel]

We all got that one friend who we sacrificed to the time skip cop factory.

[revenancy]

i think part of my problem right now is that my dysphoria keeps getting worse + worse + unfortunately this is not the best time to be experiencing severe gender dysphoria in bible belt america. it's not exactly going to be easy for me to access gender-affirming care no matter where i live + without the resources/insurance to access that kind of medical care.

also i need to find my sun lamp bc sunset at 4:30pm is not it.

[quff]

i immediately know what kind of person you are when you start talking about how bad "cancel culture" is

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

thinking about nora again

[procrastinationaccount]

I'm going to lose my fucking mind

[youremyonlyhope]

I'm not a "new musical theatre style music" person. Never have been.

Even when I was doing voice lessons, I'd steer towards the golden age or jazzy musical theatre songs. My voice teacher would have to drag me kicking and screaming towards adding anything new musical theatre to my repertoire. For a while, the most modern song in my book was I Know The Truth from Aida, and I wouldn't count that as new musical theatre style since I mean more the Pasek&Paul or Joe Iconis type.

And now I have an audition coming up for a small production of a show in that style and I'm supposed to sing a song in a similar style. And I'm looking at all my sheet music like... let me do some Cole Porter... or Gershwin... at least Sondheim please...