Rules & directions how to watch flowers #2349:
Do you recognize your face in the mirror?
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Steve tries to stay quiet while he gets ready for work, but Eddie hears him. He keeps his eyes closed and just listens- to Steve grumbling to himself when his hair doesn’t sit quite right, who starts to hum and whisper some catchy song. Eddie turns his sleepy gaze onto Steve as he shuffles around their room- watching quietly as he slips on his clothes, his shoes, a simple chain with Eddie’s ring around his neck. A warm, affectionate smile breaks across his face. Before he leaves, Steve glances at what he expects to be a sleeping Eddie, but instead, he’s met with a rasped, ‘Hey.’ Eddie sits himself up, stretches his arm across Steve’s side of the bed, and reaches, fingers wiggling. Steve crosses the room to cradle his face.
Their foreheads press, noses bump, and Steve brushes his fingers across scars and dimples.
He breathes a quiet,
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.’
Eddie huffs a tired laugh,
‘You know I never mind.’
Because, yeah.
Every morning Steve tries to stay quiet while he gets ready for work, but Eddie always hears him.
( another one from the poll | WIP )
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“the worst they could do is kill you” actually the worst they could do is crawl closer to you instead of leaving even though they’re currently bleeding out after cutting their own foot off with a hacksaw in order to escape and the door is open for the first time since you both woke up in this room, just to pull you away from beating the now lifeless body of the man who was about to kill them and proceed to cup your face with the sort of tenderness that wasn’t meant for someone like you, wasn’t meant for either of you not here not now, before saying things that you both so desperately want to believe but know deep down are near impossible all while you feel the searing ache of the bullet wound they put there not moments earlier and then, even as they start to make their way towards the door, even as their shirt slips out of your grasp and your scrabbling fingers can no longer reach their wrist and the chain around your ankle starts to feel like your fate, they still turn back to assure you that they wouldn’t lie to you. if you’re adam saw 2004
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dead boy detectives rlly let my guard down by making me think Death would be the only endless we see until Despair showed up
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Show that butt off, and paint over the center ❤️
hope that’s okay
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Louis Decamps: Enoshima (1998)
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