#FORWVER

[smoosnoom]

i think if we all ban together we can eject n*ah schn*pp into the coldest part of pluto and never have to hear from him again

[hermanunworthy]

marloakworthy. throws up explodes etc

[cdreamscumrag]

Just saw fnaf and honestly I can’t understand how anyone could watch this sick and twisted sort of shit like honestly anyone who ever engages with this is ducking mental and needs to be put away

[mushed-kid]

my sidepart wants to be a middle part

[ahuwhenua]

BROOOO

[drusillasdoll]

logging of

[lesbiantvfish]

A.b.a + Paracelsus fan comic comm for @topaz-rabbit!

Lemme know if this needs any adjustments, making aba comics is genuinely a treat so thank ya soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo much for this comm!!!!!!!❤️❤️❤️❤️screams. ((Under the readmore to give folk’s dashboard some peace lol))

[slabime]

just Slightly late for his bday my bad.... paint over the Re-Animator poster thang. Happy 11th Birthday Wilson Dont Starve🎉

[dobythealpaca]

just here to apologize for all the non-tf2 things i put on your dash also you are the coolest artist ever

NEVER APOLGISE!!!! if im following yiu it means i accept any and all things that will be thrown onto my dash!!! <33

ALSO GREAGGHHH THANKYOUUUU UR SO SWEET heres a blu solly and red demo sketch cuz im unwell abt them always,,,,

[hunybody]

well canonically hen and chimney support cheaters and always have. so really i think they would not say a single damn thing about buddie’s summer of infidelity other than to make fun of their ex-coworker who was sort of racist to them. maddie of course is clapping and cheering from the sidelines because she is crazy and has also canonically murdered her abusive husband which doesn’t really matter to this situation except i think it’s beautiful and needs to be talked about more. obviously however they all keep this from bobby due to his catholicism

[strawberryspence]

There's a red string, strung and tied into a small bow on Steve's pinky finger. It never breaks, never fades. It stretches for miles and miles and miles. There's a shimmer in it when it hits the sunlight. It's beautiful, meaningful. His connection to his soulmate.

Steve's always been excited, always been curious as to who is on the other end of it. His mother has always told him to not follow it, that it may be dangerous, he could get lost.

He only tried following the string once. He was twelve, alone at the big house, with no parents and no friends. The string reminds him that there's a person on the other side of it, there's comfort in that. He follows it— follows, follows, follows— until he reaches the Hawkins Sign and sees the road ahead. The string still goes for ages, and it could go anywhere. He goes home to that dark, lonely house, and cries so hard the string vibrates in the dark.

When Steve finds the other end of his string, he thinks, its too late. The people around him— his parents, his friends, his peers— has already dictated who he was supposed to be. He finds the other end of it just at King Steve's peak. He finds it in between the fame and arrogance. He finds it, in the middle of the cafeteria, standing high on top of a table.

The string tightens, almost like it's pulling him to the other end. But as they stare at each other, from opposite sides of the cafeteria. Both having the realization that they are each other's soulmates and both knowing they can't do anything about it.

Steve tears his eyes away from him, tears his eyes away from Eddie Munson, tears his eyes away from his soulmate and continues back to his life. He continues as he learns that monsters exist, that there are kids being experimented on, that he can still change, that not everything is set in stone.

When the kids first mention the mysterious, eccentric, dungeon master that adopted them. The one with cool tattoos and long, frenzied hair. A name the kids cheered for in between the shelves of Family Video, that makes Steve's string glisten in anticipation. He thinks, maybe it's not too late.

And when Spring '86 finally comes around, and Steve watches as Dustin and Max scurry to find the man. Steve relents, his own concern and worry overflowing from the beams. He tells them to get in the car, as Robin closes up the store. They all silently watch as Steve follows his string.

"What are you doing here?" Eddie whispers, broke bottle held against Steve's neck.

The string between them shimmers in anticipation, its the closest they have ever been to each other. They can almost feel it vibrate in excitement.

"We're here to help." Steve answers back. He wishes— not for the first time— that he knows his soulmate. Knows what comforts him, knows what makes him feel better.

But as Eddie pulls away, finally calming down and telling them what truly happened. Steve thinks that his curiosity could wait till later. It's not too late. Not yet. Steve just has to help Eddie out of this.

"You want to talk about it?" Eddie asks, just after Steve thanks him for coming after him in the lake. Like Eddie would leave his own soulmate to drown and die in the underground world that just ate him.

"About what?" Steve asks. He knows what Eddie's asking, but he wants to be sure, doesn't want to step into boundaries.

Eddie raises his pinky, the string lifting with his hand, and it's fascinating as Steve sees his string being pulled this close by the other end.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Steve asks back, eyes wide.

"Do you?" Eddie challenges.

Steve is tired, and there's an ache in his body, maybe it's the bites or maybe it's the ache to be near Eddie. "Yes. I want to talk about it. But maybe not right now. Not here."

Eddie's taken aback for a second before he chuckles, "Yeah. Okay. We'll talk later."

"Later."

There's no later, not when they're just about to go to war with some evil wizard that can gauge their eyes from the inside. Just before it's time to go, just before it's time to go to war. Steve reminds Dustin and Eddie to be safe, to not be heroes. Steve turns because he needs to leave, if he doesn't do it right now, he's not sure if he'll ever go. Eddie calls him back.

"Steve."

Steve turns back. Only because it's Eddie and he'll always turn back for Eddie.

Eddie looks at him. Big brown eyes shining under the red sky. Eddie raises his pinky again, the ribbon tied on it tightens instinctively. There's a certain softness in his face; tender and hope mushed together.

"Stay alive."

Steve nods, raising his own pinky.

"Later."

Eddie nods, and they both turn from each other.

There's a moment. Just a sliver of it, where they think they won. If Steve has to describe it, he will say that it feels exactly like gasping for air after a long lap in the pool.

Steve realizes that they're wrong when the vibrant red of his string flickers to something duller. It's the first time it ever does that, and his heart drops. No.

"I told you not to be a hero!" Steve cries out, as Eddie's blood spills from everywhere.

"I know. I am sorry." Eddie smiles weakly at him.

"We got to move you. We got to—" When Steve moves him, Eddie moans in pain, tears spilling from his eyes. Steve steadies him again, doesn't move another inch to give his soulmate some kind of comfort. The pain of it goes straight into his ribs and into his chest.

"There's not gonna be a later. I am sorry, sweetheart." Eddie looks up at him, smiling softly as he cups Steve's face. "I am sorry I didn't talk to you earlier."

"I am sorry I didn't either." Steve sobs, clutching on Eddie's hand.

"We're soulmates." Eddie says. There finality in the statement, no room for questions and confusion. "We'll find each other again."

"No, Eddie." Steve shakes his head, stubborn as ever.

Eddie's hand slips off Steve's face, "See you soon, sweetheart."

Steve doesn't know what happens next. Nobody ever explained it to him. He thinks it's cruel that nobody ever prepares you for this moment. As he watches the once bright string finally die down, the shimmering turning into nothing. Slowly, but surely, disappearing. His only connection with his soulmate— with Eddie— forever gone.

The only thing that's left is a black string, tied on his pinky without its other half.

It's too late now.

-> my beautiful @undreaming-fanfiction's happier ending

[calamitydaze]

me watching the entire internet realize what i figured out 14 months ago

[eiraeths]

For as long as Gaz can remember, he’s associated people with certain songs. It’s no surprise to anyone who’s known him long enough. Music has been a part of his life since day one; a low-volumed CD-radio combo on the kitchen counter always playing in the background and singing along to whatever was playing in the car.

One of his favorite activities growing up was standing behind the school with a group of friends crowded around now outdated technology, showing each other all the favorite songs and whatever came to mind. Even now, with years gone by since he’s last spoken to them, all he has to do is hear their song and he’s stuck reminiscing for the rest of the day. Music is how to make a moment last forever.

He’s not sure what kick-started this little game of mental association of his, but it’s never left him and he never wants it to. Until now, at least.

From the first day he met Soap, he knew Soap would leave a mark on his soul for eternity. He didn’t care for Soap as a person at first either, though his fellow sergeant was too hot-headed; too brash and impulsive. How someone could carve out a space for themself with words alone was beyond Gaz. He didn’t understand it. Didn’t want to.

But that’s the thing: Soap was so damn good at carving out a space for himself. It wasn’t long before Gaz knew he couldn’t call Soap anything else but a friend. Their time enlisted together marches on and one day a simple friend turns into an occasional-flirt-with and think-what-could-be friend.

Gaz tried to establish a line. He tried to push his pestering emotions down and keep the status quo. Soap had become one of the most important persons in his life and Gaz couldn’t fuck that up. Their flirting—whatever it could be called—was simply another little game, just like Gaz’s music association.

And here comes endearing, impulsive John Soap MacTavish, with his stupidly charming words and larger-than-life personality who crashes through all of Gaz’s trepidations like it’s just another Monday. John Soap MacTavish,who could carve his way into any clique and made sure he fit seamlessly into every crevice—as if he was passively testing fate. Who carved his way into Gaz’s life like he’s been there all along.

Gaz doesn’t remember where that self-imposed line was anymore.

Smooth as ever, Soap slots into Gaz’s daily routine without a single hitch in the process. In no time, so many of Gaz’s favorite songs became reminders of Soap’s place in his life. He shares this with Soap too, of course. This unconditional, amorous thing of theirs means everything is on the table. Every part of them under stage lights for criticism.

Soap’s enamored with all the songs from the start. He doesn’t think it’s strange, even shares his own. After that, the two of them could often be found sitting together sharing a pair of earbuds, whether it be somewhere on base or post-op cooldown.

The love of his life, John Soap MacTavish without a single bone of shame in his body who’d drag Gaz up to dance and single off key and so severely out of tune and not give a damn. Who’d do anything just to see Gaz crack a smile or shake his head in amusement.

Soap was damn good at that. It makes sense in hindsight. Someone who’s so good with people and so eager to serve needs something to do with that seemingly boundless energy.

Gaz stares at the single box filled to the brim with all of Soap’s possessions. All of that boundless, never-ending energy,and for what? Just to end up as another KIA in a soon to be forgotten document.

It has to be some kind of cruel joke for everything that larger-than-life John Soap MacTavish was to be able to fit in a standard brown packing box. It doesn’t make sense. None of Soap’s beloved mathematical equations could even begin to explain it. It shouldn’t be possible.

It’s not fucking fair.

How could this one box be all that’s left of him?

Without thinking, Gaz picks up his phone and presses play on their playlist.

Let us die young or let us live forever

We don’t have the power, but we never say never

Sitting in a sandpit, life’s a short trip

The music’s for the sad man

Life’s cruelest game was giving unconditional a price tag. Someone leaves first and someone has to think about how they had the rest of their lives to discover together. The pieces of grief won’t pick themself up.

Someone has to stay behind and stare at the perfectly carved hole left in the other’s departure.

Forever young, I want to be forever young

Do you really want to live forever?

[unaloid]

saving her pics before netflix KILLS HER!!!!!

[clingyduoapologist]

He was 16. That’s fine whatever idc. He was mourning. Cool. No that’s fine honestly.

[someiicecube]

I still meant what I said in that reply to the height chart though, lmao

It might be 3am here, but the thought of the player being able to choose their height in game for added flavored dialogue has been in my noggin since last year.

It won't change too much of the dialogue, but it's just enough to make the experience feel a bit more personalized.

Imagine being an extremely short MC that has to break their neck every time they have to meet Kuras' gaze. Imagine the look Mhin gives you if you dare call them short.

Imagine being a tall MC peering over people's heads, and most importantly, being so close in height with Ais provides you the best look into his eyes when you're hiding in a shady alley together.

Oh, but imagine being average height in that scene and choosing to look forward only presents you with a wall of man tiddies.

Not to mention that one Mhin scene where they pin you against the wall and, despite their small stature, manage to lift you off your feet by the collar? Like, okay? How would they, 168cm, do that with a theoretical 187cm MC? Hm?

Like, I need me that—

"Their fist curled, white knuckled into the front of your clothing."

if player_height == very_short or short or average:

"And with surprising strength, they lift you off your feet and against the wall, knocking the breath out of your lungs."

elif player_height == tall or very tall:

"And with surprising strength, they shove you against the wall, knocking the breath out of your lungs."