“Happy Moon Landing Day!” Dustin announces with a toothy smile.

“I think you’re a couple decades too late, buddy,” Steve responds, shuffling the deck of cards and dealing them out between himself and Eddie.

Dustin rolls his eyes and sits down, taking the open seat around the table. “It’s the 18th anniversary, Steve.”

“Fake.”

They both look over at Eddie, whose eyes haven’t left the cards in his hands, but a small smirk appears on his face.

“Um, excuse me?”

Eddie’s eyes flick over to Dustin and his smirk widens. “It’s fake.”

“Uh,” Dustin starts, already getting riled up. “It’s not fake. There’s footage of it literally happening, Eddie!”

“Yeah. And that’s fake,” Eddie looks over briefly at Steve, his smirk turning into a mischievous smile, and Steve knows immediately what he’s doing.

“Oh yeah, I read about that. Totally fake,” Steve adds, focusing on his cards so he doesn’t break his poker face.

Dustin looks between the two. “Are you shitting me?”

“Nope,” Steve says as Eddie replies, “Not at all.”

“What’s your evidence?” Dustin asks, crossing his arms with a glare.

Eddie sighs, finally looking at the boy, and leans back in the chair. “Well, for one, the shadows are off.”

“The shadows are off?!” Dustin repeats incredulously. “What does that even mean?!”

“It means that they’re off,” Eddie says with a nonchalant shrug, “The sun wasn’t in the right spot to make that angle of shadow.”

“And the flag wouldn’t be moving,” Steve says. Eddie perks up, snaps his fingers, and points at Steve.

“That too!”

“That’s bullshit! The shadows aren’t off! Why would they fake the moon landing?”

“To beat the Russians,” Eddie says matter-of-fact.

Steve deadpans with a hard look, “Russians.”

“Explain.”

Eddie sighs. “The Russians already beat us at sending a man to space, and since the US is filled with a bunch of sore losers, they had to beat them to the moon. But since we couldn’t actually do it with the tech at the time, they faked it.”

“Oh my god,” Dustin says, exasperated and putting his hands on the top of his hat. “That’s a hoax and you both know it.”

“Do we though?” Steve asks with an exaggerated pinch to his face, making Eddie snort.

“Why did I ever want you guys to be friends?”

“Someone’s gotta keep that ego of yours in check.” Steve and Eddie pull their full attention back to the cards.

“Y’know what’s also not a hoax?” Steve asks.

“Pray tell, what, Steve?” Dustin asks sarcastically.

“Bigfoot.”

“Jesus Christ.”

I realized Steve is absolutely that kid whose parents put him through piano lessons solely so they could have another way to show off at parties and shit. And then that thought morphed into a little Steddie plot bunny and here we are lol:

Steve doesn't know it's the last time he'll sit at the grand piano, the last time he'll press down its keys and let music fill the empty room before bleeding out into the empty house.

He doesn't know that when his parents next come home, his mother will notice how horribly out of tune the instrument is. He doesn't know that it will be sent off somewhere for repair (his parents won't tell him where, no matter how he asks, and he'll never quite understand why) and lost to him. He doesn't know his parents won't bother buying another one; it was only ever there to impress party guests when Steve sat down and played some Bach. Without those parties, company or otherwise, there's no point in getting another one: both the piano and Steve will have outlived their usefulness.

He doesn't know that he'll be storing away his sheet music, carefully placed into folders and in a waterproof box for safekeeping. He doesn't know that he'll soon become too consumed by high school and dating and monsters to idly write down notes on a staff. He doesn't know that when he's swinging a nail-ridden bat in the future (to destroy monsters, sure, but destruction is destruction, right?) he'll ache with the pain of missing the act of creation as a means of stress relief.

He doesn't know any of that, so Steve sits down at the grand piano with a soft smile, gently trailing his fingers over the keys before lining them up in the Middle C-position. He runs through a few warm-ups, letting muscle memory take him away, so he doesn't have to think. Without another thought, he seamlessly transitions into idly playing, bits and pieces of everything he remembers and songs he's heard blending together.

Mozart's Air morphs into Beethoven's Fur Elise into Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody. It doesn't all sound good together, but that's not the point when Steve plays by himself. All that matters is letting his brain shut off for a bit, letting the notes and echoes mingle together to create something new and joyful.

After two hours on the piano, his wrists are aching; he always forgets to hold them in the proper position when he plays alone. But it's a good ache, one that reminds him of the music still dancing around in his brain.

Steve takes a deep breath and slowly releases it, feeling the last of his tension dissipate. He lets his hands linger on the piano for a little longer before standing and leaving the room, tragically unaware of his imminent and unavoidable loss.

--------

Steve is sprawled across an old couch in Gareth's garage, reading Eddie's well-loved copy of Lord of the Rings. He'd promised to at least give it a go, and he had to admit he was looking forward to finally understanding some of the references Hellfire Club and the kids make. His progress is slow, but he's almost halfway through after two weeks of work. Reading while Corroded Coffin practices helps; the background noise of their music is perfect, letting him ignore all other sounds and focus.

a study i did because i realized idk how to draw environments at all LMAO

STOP SCROLLING THIS IS A PAINTING

Tumblr can you cool it with all the updates I can't make fun of them all

TUMBLR LET ME SEE THE BLOG COLOURS IN MESSSAGES

Images only, link to original Twitter at the bottom of post.

Full🧵 here:

this was so wild

Someone explain

The first sentence says 32 and 13 implying that the speaker is 32 years old and their girlfriend is 13 years old, which is both highly inappropriate and illegal. The next sentence reveals the speaker was talking about their game levels, not their ages, which is perfectly okay.

In their reply to the audience they then say they are picking her up from middle school, again implying that their girlfriend is underage, but quickly state she’s grading papers letting us know she’s a teacher, definitely an adult, and there no reason to be upset.

The rollercoaster gif portrays how switching from upset and worried to relieved in such a short period of time feels emotionally.

The next meme shows the guy panicking from misunderstanding, then feeling relieved and calm realizing the truth, only to panic over the next misunderstanding and then calm again when hearing the end.

the above explanation is followed by a picture of data from star trek with a speech bubble's tail coming out of him, implying he's the one saying all of that, which is humerous because the above text is written in a style similar to his speech patterns, and with a subject matter he would enjoy

This is the worst website ever and I love it.

I’d rather see Tumblr die than see it stop being like this.

Every writer on Tumblr: “I would combust out of love if someone ever drew fanart of my fic!!” Me: “oh man I wanna draw this scene BUT THEY WOULD PROBABLY HATE IT AND HATE ME FOR THE NERVE”

Dear artists.

We, the writers, will accept any of your fan arts.

We don’t care if it looks like shit to you, or you think your art skills are not good enough.

We will love any fan art, because it’s the most beautiful way to say “I love what you write”.

This times a million. 

This also applies to aesthetics, moodboards, spin-off fanfic drabbles, and the like. Doesn’t matter how insignificant or amateurish you think it is – all of it is beautiful. <3

I had 2 separate people make tiktok fancam/fic trailers for things I’ve written and I think about that every day and watch them often 😭❤️❤️

I have every fanart in a folder i look at all the time

I have every

fanart in a folder i

look at all the time

Beep boop! I look for accidental haiku posts. Sometimes I mess up.

someone: whats your favorite [insert literally anything here]

me: *forgets everything i’ve ever enjoyed* uhhhh

"You really haven't changed."

Sometimes, change is bad. Steve didn't like change when they moved to a bigger house when he was three, further from his grandparents. He didn't like when his mum stopped kissing his forehead goodnight. He didn't like when his dad started calling him Steven instead of champ. He didn't like seeing horrors behind his eyes where once were dreams.

Sometimes, change is good. Change can come in hugs from a fourteen year old instead of slaps on the back from a fellow player. It can come in your best friend joining in your dorky jokes instead of tripping kids. It's the walkie talkie beside his bed. It's feeling good for once.

Steve thought he'd changed for the better.

Eddie did too, or, at least Steve thought he did.

It had been a rough week for the boys, bills were due, tensions were high, hours were long and love was hard to find.

Steve had promised to pick up groceries on the way home, but he was so tired, and a shower and bed were so close, he's honestly surprised he even made it home the way his eyelids had been fluttering.

Eddie wasn't even supposed to be home til late but a part had to be ordered for the car he'd been fixing and wouldn't get there til tomorrow so he was home by dinner exhausted from a double shift to fix some rich wanker's car.

Eddie knows he should've understood. He should've seen Steve sleeping there and curled up beside him. But they hadn't had food for lunch so Eddie was starved and tired and his van's been acting up and Steve had promised that morning a sad look on his face when he knew Eddie would be missing lunch. The fridge is empty and Steve's asleep and he's so tired he should just sleep beside his boyfriend.

But it's not just the groceries.

It's the red due date on the bill on the fridge door.

It's the cold water in the shower he knows awaits him.

It's the fact that Steve didn't even kiss him goodbye since last Tuesday.

It's the cold part of Eddie's heart, the part Al Munson put there that no matter how much kindness Susie Munson put in would never leave.

It's the way they're screaming at each other now, over things they would've joked about last Spring when they first moved in.

It's the way they've been sleeping facing apart for three weeks.

It's the way Steve is crying and it doesn't make Eddie stop to dry his cheeks anymore.

It's the way Eddie knows how to hurt him.

"You really haven't changed."

It's the click of the door as Eddie leaves.

It's the way a slam would've hurt less.

It's the way the bed feels just as cold as the night before.

It's the crack in Steve's voice when he calls Robin.

It's the boxes in the driveway.

It's the word bullshit in his mind.

Sometimes change is good.

Steve thought he'd changed for the better.

It didn't stop the worst change of all.

The change that made them say goodbye.

"You really haven't changed."

Sometimes, change is bad. Steve didn't like change when they moved to a bigger house when he was three, further from his grandparents. He didn't like when his mum stopped kissing his forehead goodnight. He didn't like when his dad started calling him Steven instead of champ. He didn't like seeing horrors behind his eyes where once were dreams.

Sometimes, change is good. Change can come in hugs from a fourteen year old instead of slaps on the back from a fellow player. It can come in your best friend joining in your dorky jokes instead of tripping kids. It's the walkie talkie beside his bed. It's feeling good for once.

Steve thought he'd changed for the better.

Eddie did too, or, at least Steve thought he did.

It had been a rough week for the boys, bills were due, tensions were high, hours were long and love was hard to find.

Steve had promised to pick up groceries on the way home, but he was so tired, and a shower and bed were so close, he's honestly surprised he even made it home the way his eyelids had been fluttering.

Eddie wasn't even supposed to be home til late but a part had to be ordered for the car he'd been fixing and wouldn't get there til tomorrow so he was home by dinner exhausted from a double shift to fix some rich wanker's car.

Eddie knows he should've understood. He should've seen Steve sleeping there and curled up beside him. But they hadn't had food for lunch so Eddie was starved and tired and his van's been acting up and Steve had promised that morning a sad look on his face when he knew Eddie would be missing lunch. The fridge is empty and Steve's asleep and he's so tired he should just sleep beside his boyfriend.

But it's not just the groceries.

It's the red due date on the bill on the fridge door.

It's the cold water in the shower he knows awaits him.

It's the fact that Steve didn't even kiss him goodbye since last Tuesday.

It's the cold part of Eddie's heart, the part Al Munson put there that no matter how much kindness Susie Munson put in would never leave.

It's the way they're screaming at each other now, over things they would've joked about last Spring when they first moved in.

It's the way they've been sleeping facing apart for three weeks.

It's the way Steve is crying and it doesn't make Eddie stop to dry his cheeks anymore.

It's the way Eddie knows how to hurt him.

"You really haven't changed."

It's the click of the door as Eddie leaves.

It's the way a slam would've hurt less.

It's the way the bed feels just as cold as the night before.

It's the crack in Steve's voice when he calls Robin.

It's the boxes in the driveway.

It's the word bullshit in his mind.

Sometimes change is good.

Steve thought he'd changed for the better.

It didn't stop the worst change of all.

The change that made them say goodbye.

There’s a lot of Proper English things they teach in english classes that do nothing but make for boring writers, and the worst by far is saying that it’s bad form to begin a sentence with the word “but.” It’s both grammatically coherent and also a pleasant way to set up a punchy sequence of sentences. Fuck the Académie Française and its Anglo-Saxon wannabes, you can phrase whatever you want however you want until you die

if cas was supposed to be a temporary role then WHY did they give him a C name. when sam and dean are based on Sal and Dean from On The Road and the third in that trio is Carlo, which is a C name. also allen ginsberg (carlo) and neal cassidy (dean) were gay together irl and ur gonna tell me deancas isnt real. the web is weaving and im even more confused the more i learn about it

so what are all the other Eddie babes doing for May 27? crying? masturbating? crying more?

all ao3 jokes aside, let’s all give thanks to the wonderful volunteers that are working hard to get the site back up and running so that homebodies like us don’t become stir crazy.