#shoutout to

[metalhoops]

Inspired by this post

Steve had watched the world end a hundred different ways. He’d lived the same day more times than he could count, watching the people he loved die or feeling himself die. There were things worse than death. There were memories he didn’t dredge up for fear of calling them into the waking world.

He'd held onto hope for the first twenty recurrent days, which had dwindled to a sense of steely determination until he’d lost count of the days. Then all that was left was the comfort of repetition. He was Sisyphus pushing the boulder up the hill, day in and day out. Steve kept trying and failing to save Eddie until it was all he knew.

Maybe he was Prometheus, who stole fire from the gods and spent his life paying for it, tied to a rock while birds picked at his liver, only for it to grow back with each morning. Prometheus whose name, by definition, means forethought; one’s ability to consider possible futures. Steve had spent a small lifetime considering futures. It wasn’t a comparison he would’ve made on his own. That was Eddie, who’d spent his childhood with his head in thick tomes of fantasy and mythology.

Eddie Munson came to him like cheap furniture, in crudely disassembled pieces that Steve had been working tirelessly to put together. Each new loop brought him another piece of Eddie. His favourite colour was blue. He only woke up early on weekends to watch cartoons. He liked too much cream in his coffee.

The Eddie that existed in a world where Steve stayed with him and Dustin during the swarm of bats had told Steve his biggest dream was to make enough money to buy Uncle Wayne a proper home. His biggest fear was that when he died, no one would remember him.

Days or months later, with Steve repeating the same damn day, he’d finally learnt why Eddie’s love for his uncle ran so deep. Wayne had taken him in before his dad went to jail when the man caught Eddie holding another boy’s hand. In that world, Steve had stayed with Eddie in the RV as the rest of the group searched War Zone.  

Eddie’s mother died when he was six. He’d told Steve that later, or earlier. Steve had and has lost his sense of past and present. Eddie loved his mother deeply, though was unsure if that love had been misplaced. He recalled two mothers, one who read him bedtime stories and threw herself around the kitchen each morning with her wild theatrics and another mother who was distant and whose temper could turn on a dime. Eddie wasn’t sure which of those mothers was his and which was the mother of memory. All good storytellers know the story shapes itself in the retelling. Eddie’s mother was Janus, god of duality.

Steve understood. He loved and hated his parents. These feelings weren’t mutually exclusive. Steve loved Eddie because he’d spent the last hundred-odd days getting to know him, but Steve hated Eddie because he kept dying. Until he didn’t.

The boys lay side by side in the red-blue soil of The Upside Down, their bleeding sides caked with mud and demonic bat viscera. In the end, Steve wasn’t sure what’d done it. It’d been so long since he’d lived Eddie’s original death that it’d been smeared by the haze of memory and conjecture. All he knew was that a sea of bats lay dead around them and that it was over. Finally, over.

Steve removed his hand from where it was pressed into his side and extended it to ensnare Eddie’s. He felt muscles tug and tear from the walls of his ribs with the effort. Blood flowed freely from the cavity, but Steve didn’t care. He wanted to hold Eddie’s hand. Holy shit, they’d done it.

Somewhere along the way, Steve had fallen in love. It’d taken him ten more iterations to reconcile with the fact he could not only like a man but love him.  That was months ago, in Steve’s time. It was old news. “Steve, you still with me?” Eddie asked, his voice horse.

He was hurt, though not as badly as Steve. All his wounds were superficial. He’d be okay. Steve had been so sick of watching Eddie die, he’d been willing to put his body on the line to make sure it didn’t happen again.

In this loop, he was still ‘Steve’, not ‘Stevie’. They hadn’t grown close enough yet. Eddie only called him ‘sweetheart’ in the iterations where they kissed. Steve wanted to kiss him, but there was the taste of iron in his mouth.

“I’m okay,” Steve insisted, squeezing Eddie’s hand. He felt a sharp pain shoot through his side as Eddie pressed his hand into Steve’s wound.

“Christ, there’s a lot of blood,” Eddie muttered to himself. 

He was bad with blood. He’d scraped his knee down to the bone when he was seven and ever since, the sight of gore made him queasy. Steve wasn’t meant to know that yet. In this iteration, he hadn’t told Eddie about the loop. He’d tried before, but it never helped.

Pain and blood loss drag Steve down into a familiar oblivion. He expected to wake at the beginning of the loop, emerging in The Upside Down from Lover’s Lake, but instead, he found himself in a hospital room with Eddie in a bed by his side. It was late, too late for visitors, but Eddie wasn’t sleeping. His eyes were trained on Steve, equal parts concerned and curious.

“You scared the shit out of me,” Eddie confessed, as Steve’s eyes met his. 

Steve wanted to cry or scream. He wanted to untangle himself from the knot of cords and tubes to crawl beside Eddie in bed as they had curled up together in the back of the RV dozens of times before. He needed to hold Eddie to know he was alive, to understand he wasn’t going anywhere. Steve blinked away tears, balling his hands into fists. He didn’t want to scare Eddie.

“I scared you?” Steve choked out a mixture between a laugh and a sob.

Eddie didn’t know what to do. He never knew what to do when people cried. Steve learned that in the iteration where they’d lost Dustin. He didn’t want to think about it.  

“You almost died, man,” Eddie explained.

He somehow understood Steve wanted him closer. Eddie got out of bed, clutching his I.V. drip as he flopped into the chair by Steve’s bedside. He wanted to hold Eddie’s hand again, but he was out of excuses. He could tell him the truth, but he didn’t know what good it would do.

Steve was still used to thinking of possible futures. He was Prometheus who, unlike Sisyphus, escaped his torment. Steve wondered what happened to Prometheus after he was rescued. Did he return to a normal life? Does anyone bother to ask? Prometheus’ story is always about punishment. Afterwards, he was a footnote in the story of Hercules, but once the heroes leave the story, what’s left?

Eddie would know the answer, but it wasn’t a conversation he’d had with this Eddie. That Eddie was dead. This Eddie was and wasn’t him. This Eddie was Janus, god of abstract duality, god of beginnings and ends, god of life and death.

“Sorry my lame-ass face is the first one you had to see. Robin and the kids were in here all day. Wheeler left flowers,” Eddie tacked on awkwardly.

This Eddie didn’t know Steve. They were strangers. Of course, things were awkward. He couldn’t know he was the one person Steve wanted to see more than anything.

“No, Ed’s—.” Slip of the tongue.

“Eddie. I’m really glad you’re here, man.”

They were back to square one, but Steve could work with that. He’d been working with that for months. This time, Eddie would remember. This time, they had the luxury of taking things slow.

“One thing’s been bugging me all day,” Steve began.

After hundreds of days of getting to know Eddie, Steve had learnt a few shortcuts, a few ways to jump-start his way into Eddie’s heart.

“Can you explain what the hell Mordor is?”

It was a tried-and-true method. By that point, Steve knew Eddie’s response off by heart, but he wanted to hear him say it. Eddie gave him the same perplexed look he always did when Steve asked. It was as though Eddie thought he knew too much like there was some secret he wasn’t letting him in on, but he didn’t challenge Steve on it. He never did.

“Harrington, have you heard of Lord of the Rings?” Yes.

“No.” A million times.

“Tell me about it.”

Read Part 2 Here

[ryttu3k]

Playable clans by game, Justice and 'Bloodlines 2' update.

Current game total: 12 (Redemption, Bloodlines, Coteries of New York, Shadows of New York, Night Road, Parliament of Knives, Out for Blood, Sins of the Sires, Bloodhunt, Swansong, Justice, 'Bloodlines 2')

Ventrue: 8/12 (Bloodlines, Coteries of New York, Night Road, Parliament of Knives, Sins of the Sires, Bloodhunt, Swansong, 'Bloodlines 2')

Toreador: 6.5/12 (Bloodlines, Night Road, Out for Blood (ending only), Parliament of Knives, Coteries of New York, Bloodhunt, Swansong)

Brujah: 6/12 (Redemption, Bloodlines, Coteries of New York, Night Road, Bloodhunt, 'Bloodlines 2')

Tremere: 5/12 (Bloodlines, Night Road, Sins of the Sires, Bloodhunt, 'Bloodlines 2')

Malkavian: 4/12 (Bloodlines, Sins of the Sires, Parliament of Knives, Swansong) Nosferatu: 4/12 (Bloodlines, Night Road, Parliament of Knives, Bloodhunt) Banu Haqim: 4/12 (Night Road, Sins of the Sires, Justice, 'Bloodlines 2')

Lasombra: 3/12 (Shadows of New York, Night Road, Parliament of Knives)

Caitiff: 2/12 (Night Road as biological Caitiff, Sins of the Sires as ‘unknown clan’ Caitiff) Gangrel: 2/12 (Bloodlines, Night Road)

Thinblood: 1.5/12 (Out for Blood (ending only), Sins of the Sires)

Hecata: 1/12 (Night Road) Ministry: 1/12 (Night Road) Ravnos: 1/12 (Night Road)

Tzimisce: 0/12

Society has progressed past the need to play as a Ventrue let me play a Tzimisce.

[solazu1]

Could you draw jess and taylor?

Hehahehhe

[oath-of-the-gaywatch]

homunculus horde + infinitokens + my artist friends =

WONDERS

[slveepyscwrs]

Shoutout to that one friend who just goes like:

"Oh hey how old are you?"

"Yeah I'm *any age that is even remotely younger*"

"You're my kid now."

"Wait what–"

"We shall fetch the adoption papers at dawn."

(Spoiler alert: I'm the friend.)

[bettydice]

ALL THE TAVS! thank you for letting me draw your darlings my Tavs Zorne and Shiv, @loquaciousquark Tavish Gale, @annalyia Olivia, @jadesabre301 Elarwyn, @fistfulofgammarays Verrin, @perahn Varash, @servantofclio Ravat, @eponymous-rose Amisra, @probablylostrightnow Rianna, @mystery-moose Sevistur, @nelsynoo Aleah

[iwanttokillyounow]

the better reality where rouge and roger actually got a chance to even attempt at parenting + luffy and sabo that probably scavanged him out of the woods and in exchange get to also have a loving family.

THOUGHT ABOUT THIS CUZ, my mum did my hair for like the first time in a while and that shit HURTTTTT so bad but i got inspired by it anyway.

I feel like rouges hair is naturally smooth but incredibly curly and rogers hair is really tangly and rough but straight; which equals when together into extremely tangly but also really curly, for ace.

[remadra]

Leave it as a warmup challenge failed. We'll get em next time boys.

Come get your favorite son @crazysnor1ax

[insomniacirl]

One of my first memories of reading fanfiction was after dunking my face in a bowl of icewater, sat cross legged on the floor in the middle of my room- and then moving to go and read like a 30k word fic (which was like, CRAZY for me back then ig idk).

[skippygator]

Okay so imagine you're Nico di Angelo and you're walking through a store of some kind. Maybe the mall after your zombie chauffeur dropped you off. And you hear Pocketful of Sunshine by Natasha Bedingfield playing. You'd never admit it but the song immediately makes you think of Will Solace. Now the song's stuck in your head and later that day Will hears you humming it to yourself. He never lets you live it down.

[tumblasha]

the way i adore wilhelmina slater, she's a trans ally! she performs in drag shows occasionally!! sure she's a bully and a little evil, but i can look away

[treba-neco-napise]

i hate having four fucking ads on a 20-minute podcast episode.

(it's a rant, enjoy.)

no, i don't want to get your shitting plus subscription, i don't even pay for 95% of the films and shows i watch online. stop fucking begging for patrons, it's not our problem you want to do this full-time. good for you if you do it but it's not somehow our duty to get you there just because you're a creator. not everyone can afford 60 fucking subscriptions. instead of people getting the minimum to at least get by as a basic human right, i bet like 85% of creatives online are making elite clubs on patreon and shit for those who have spare money. i get that you need it, but so many people (especially PDA neurodivergents) are extremely put off by being asked to pay and won't do it (like me) just because of that. i've encountered art that had the option to pay without requiring it, and I did. because they deserved it anyway, and they understood the classism and capitalism ingrained in the internet creative culture and that a lot of people don't have the means to become members of the club. i'm planning on starting a podcast, been wanting to publish fiction in paper since i was a kid, and i still want to make all that 100% free with the option of payment, because i believe that knowledge, stories and art should be accessible to anyone, regardless of financial situation (what do you think libraries are for, hm?????). when it's not, that's when elitism starts to rise and i'm just too tired for that shit. the empty snobbery culture around modern art alone is driving me insane.

Starkid has been recording their performances for years and guess what - they're massive, they sell out, people attend their live plays for the experience, but those who can't are still able to be a part of the fandom (as opposed to broadway musicals that get shared through bootlegs, hm) and they don't expect their fans to be responsible for their means of living. people who want to see a live performance, to buy your book in a bookshop professionally bound and keep it, to thank you for making your day by buying you a coffee will do so of their own free will. don't beg them to pay for your groceries if you made the choice to put your art out there. it's the system that is responsible for taking care of your basic needs, not your fans.

[lailuhhh]

Counting + Crate +Shake

It was a dumb thing that everyone was arguing about. There couldn’t be one natural disaster that was worse than all the rest

Or

Mac and Jack experience an earthquake

Read it here!

[pipnchips202]

physical changes representing character development mean so much to me. i’m talking haircuts, scars, weight, visible injuries, loss of certain body parts, ANY physical change that have to do with a character’s arc or progression DRIVE ME INSANE!!!!

[dappersautismcreature]

gonna be a bit of a meanie in this post, but people who only watch Phil or Wilbur QSMP streams are missing SO MUCH. Like I get it, you have your fav cc, but I thought QSMP was about finding new people! I for one, started watching for Foolish n Slime, but now anytime Cellbit, Forever, Roier, Vegetta or Maxo are on screen I’m overjoyed! Even if its hard for me to watch streams not in my language(eng) I’m still gonna make and enjoy fan content about these guys! I’m even enjoying and watching eng ccs that I hadn’t before like Fit or BBH. And Jaiden’s as good as she’s always been. 

Basically, esp to the stupid chat hoppers that jump into any random stream to spam about Cheyanne or Tallulah, I think y'all should try n branch out. Cause ughhh, I’m tired of the Wilbur-rabid fans who take any opportunity to bring him up. Y’all are sitting there waiting for streams while some of these guys are streaming QSMP content daily! 

[iwanttokillyounow]

lol help me this is probably the latest trans visibility day post ever made but i am incredibly lazy

shout out my trans friends LETS GETTT ITTT (trans pushups) i dont know kikus personality like at all so i just went random i hope i did alright SHOUT OUT