#both its past and its present.

[andoutofharm]

hozier performing butchered tongue at the choctaw theater in oklahoma (dedicated to the Choctaw people, 10/13/23)

(see this article for why this is such a significant dedication and performance of this song)

[bullagit]

due to personal reasons i am now firmly on team “i hope aziraphale does change heaven for the better actually (going on the assumption that his return is as straightforward as it seemed etc” 

like if the alternative is just this ohhh he’s so NAIVE and SOFT and so WRONG and he’ll have to LEARN A TOUGH LESSON etc etc nonsense then yeah 1000% go for it babe knock it out of the park

i hope choosing hope and kindness pays dividends. i hope the soft traits that made other characters continually disparage and underestimate him and his intelligence turn out to be his greatest assets bc i kinda don’t give a shit about a “toughen up it’s the only way everyone else knows better” life lesson for this character

(which like honestly a lot of the rhetoric is dismissive of the fact that persistent goodness in the face of an existence of disparagement takes great strength and that at the end of the day aziraphale has always been able to stand up in his own way)

[the-cassandriad]

i've not written poetry in years (i'm more of a novelist) but i allowed myself some cassandra thoughts (as a treat). i actually had a lot of fun with this and i'm desperate to do more with the idea in the future so we will see.

inspired obviously by my own muses, @two-bees-poetry for the brilliant contrapuntal poems about greek myth, and anne carson, specifically when she talks about cassandra's speech being split in two and her bridging of past and future!

more of my logic in the tags because i'm annoying!

[flowercrowngods]

🤍🌷 @stevesbipanic and @the-winged-doe asked to see ugly unpolished unrefined words, soo—

cw & tags: past major character death, grief, attempted time-travel fix-it(s), eddie&robin besties || potential wip

Eddie takes a long drag of his cigarette, the biting hot smoke hitting the back of his throat and clawing its way into his lungs, going as deep as he allows and leaving a permanent mark that brings neither relief nor calmness tonight. His fingers shake where they’re pressed to his lips, but the rest of him is unmoving where he sits on the front porch of their new trailer. 

It’s quiet out here. It’s always quiet in Hawkins these days, the city a fucking ghosttown. 

And he knows it’s not because of the one they lost. He knows it’s not because of him. But still the emptiness is stark and the silence oppressivem more so than it ever has been. 

Everyone still looks for him, months later. Dustin still begins to speak, cutting himself off mid-sentence, and Robin still stands with enough space to either side, like she expects him to just show up and invade her space like the home he made for himself in there. 

And somewhere among all that is Eddie. With his very own history. Or, non-history, as it turns out. But history and non-history leave wounds alike, and the memories feel just as real. A small mercy, at the end of the day, for them to feel real when they’re all he has left anymore. 

He takes another drag, not quite exhaling before he obliterates the cigarette and fishes for a new one before the butt even hits the ground. 

Fumbling with the lighter in his pocket, he only gets as far as placing the butt between his lips before a hand snakes into his field of vision to snag it from his mouth. 

“Hey,” he complains halfheartedly but makes no attempt at getting it back, watching instead as Robin comes up to sit beside him, grimacing at the stink of tobacco that must be heavy around him. 

“You’re disgusting,” she says with no real heat behind her words.

Eddie shrugs, because yeah, sure. He’s been called worse things. Robin’s called him worse things. This is her being nice. Her complaininig about his incessant smoking is nothing new. What is new is what she does next, placing the cigarette between her own lips and reaching for the light he’s been holding in a loose grip since she arrived. 

She starts coughing immediately, pulling a face at the disgusting feeling of smoke in her lungs and tobacco on her tongue. But she keeps going. Eddie can only watch in surprise and mild horror. 

“These things’ll kill you,” he says then in an echo of her usual sentiment, aware that he sounds as bewildered as he feels. 

“Well,” Robin says, aiming for casual, but quickly interrupted by a wheeze and a cough that’s almost adorable. “Let them try.” 

Eddie huffs, a pale little smile lingering on his lips as he leans back against the stairs behind him, resting his weight on his forearm to watch her. There is something captivating about her. Eddie always wonders what it is, wants to study her forever. 

Maybe it’s only the lingering traces of Everything Steve Harrington that clings to her every breath, her every move, her every fucking cell, with how much he was a part of her and she of him. Maybe it’s their shared grief that has made Eddie fall a bit in love with her and with the way the moonlight catches in her hair and in the smoke wafting from her cigarette. 

But somehow he refuses to believe that all he loves about her is merely the memory of Steve. 

Robin, in turn, is kind enough to let him stare. Kind enough to let him find out what it is between them. If this friendship is more than a misguided projection of grief and mourning and trauma; more than co-dependence and the obsessive will to keep this one person in your life. This one person who understands. 

After a while of Robin just holding the cigarette between her fingers, becuase no matter how strong her will to self destruct, she never quite got it right with the smoking, Eddie snatches it back before it goes to waste completely. As if pulled in by a string attached to his hollowed out chest, Robin leans back and into him in one smooth motion. It’s too calculated, though, and Eddie can feel how much she sags once she doesn’t have to hold herself up anymore. 

He’ll hold her. It’s fine. She gets to rest if she wants to. God knows she needs it. 

The night is warm for mid-September, but still Robin shakes against him. Eddie holds her closer. 

Silence settles over them, and it’s not an easy one. Silence is never easy anymore, especially with them. He feels so deeply hollow that even the silence echoes in there, creating an ever-present, uncomfortable thrumming of apprehension and anxiety within him. A certain sense of doom, one that can’t quite decide if it’s only an echo itself. 

“I wanna stop time,” Robin says at last, the cigarette long dead between Eddie’s fingers, but he somehow can’t bring himself to flick it away. “I don’t want tomorrow.” 

I don’t ever want a new day. I don’t ever want another tomorrow. I just want Steve. 

They ring in his head still, another echo that only hollows him out further every time it reaches him — Robin, overcome with hysterical grief, screaming and crying, curled up on that hospital floor, her cries quieting down and making Eddie wish she would be loud again, because the quiet was what killed him. The quiet, the whispered words, the declarations that tomorrow could go fuck itself if it came without Steve made him wish, irrationally, desperately, that their roles were reversed. That he could have died and Steve could have lived, and Robin would never have to wish tomorrow never came. 

He’s not entirely sure if she remembers the words, too. If she even said them in this world. 

So he takes a deep breath, breathes away memories and non-histories, feels the heavy weight of his guitar pick hanging around his neck, resting on the scarred flesh of his chest, and tries not to think of the one string left on his acoustic guitar. Tries not to think of his one last attempt. One last try. 

“I know,” he tells her. “Me neither.” 

He peers over her head, lifting his left wrist to check his watch. Ten minutes until midnight. Ten minutes until Steve’s birthday. 

“It’s not tomorrow yet,” he tries lamely, and Robin huffs — the sound wet and bitter and hopeless, making Eddie’s eyes sting. 

“It’s always fucking tomorrow,” she rasps, her voice flat and wavering, and Eddie knows her well enough to know she’s about to cry. And she knows him well enough to do it. 

“I know,” he says again, and reaches for his necklace through his shirt. One more attempt. One more try. One more chance. His eyes burn. 

She turns to him after taking a moment to compose herself, peering up at him through her lashes. 

“Tell me again?” 

His heart falls, the tense apprehension vanishing from the air, bur quickly replaced by something a lot more heavy. Something that looks and smells and feels like grief. 

They both know he’ll do anything she asks. He can’t really bear saying not to her. And not about this, anyway — she’s the only one who knows. 

She’s the one who should have had the chance. 

“Which part?” he asks, holding a new cigarette out for her to light it. She does, and the both follow the flame of the lighter Robin always keeps in her pocket these days. 

She leans forward and takes a drag. Eddie lets her. 

“All of them.“

Eddie sighs, pain welling up inside him, and he closes his eyes against the night sky. “Robbie,” he pleads, but he doesn’t finish his plea. He’ll do it. He’ll do anything she asks. 

But before he starts recounting the tales of how he almost saved Steve Harrington, he finds himself saying something he never thought he’d tell her. 

“There’s one more.” The words hang in the air, and Robin doesn’t react. Has no idea what’s coming; what he’s about to tell her. The guitar pick is heavy on the necklace around his throat. “There’s one more try. One more chance. I’m… I have one more—“ 

He can’t even finish the sentence. Can’t bring himself to say it, lest it all be jinxed forever. He doesn’t want to hope. Wants to carry this weight for all eternity and never think about all those times he failed to save someone he was never meant to save at all. People like Eddie, they’re not made to save anyone. Hell, they can’t even save themselves. 

Steve was supposed to be the one doing the saving. 

And he did. God, he fucking did. But he was never supposed to— 

Cold fingers wrap around his own as Robin fits their hands together. 

“I hate you a little bit for telling me.” 

Eddie nods, trying to focus on the cold hand and the nicotine in his lungs, trying not to let panic and grief and guilt and the heavy weight of one more chance win. “I know.” 

“Hey, Eddie?” Robin says after a while, the silence stretching on, and it’s almost midnight now. “Can you— Would you do something for me?” 

He turns his head, flicking the butt of his cigarette out into the darkness beyond them. “What’s that?” 

“Don’t— Don’t try to, to save him. Don’t— Just… Just maybe, could you celebrate his birthday with him? Make sure he knows he’s… God, make sure he knows he’s loved? Last year, no one really made time on his birthday and we just moved it backwards but God, could you— It’s almost midnight, and—“ 

“Robbie,” Eddie interrupts her, his voice hoarse and wavering, his eyes burning with tears as he tugs her close and holds her to his chest. “You should go. Don’t you wanna…” 

But she’s shaking her head against him with a vehemence that can hardly be misunderstood. 

“No,” she cries, and it’s more of a sob than anything. “I think if I ever saw him again, I’d… I don’t know what I’d do. Burn the whole fucking world to the ground for him or some shit, I can’t— I’d probably just cry all the time and that wouldn’t be helpful, really.” There’s a weak, wet laugh that bubbles out of both of them, and Eddie’s wiping at Robin’s face, drying the tears and making way for new ones to fall. 

“I’d light a fire for you,” Eddie says, the same weak smile on his lips that Robin meets him with now. “Nineteen fucking fires, you hear me?” 

She laughs again, then buries her face in his neck in a way that never quite fit. In a way that Eddie always knew was supposed to be someone else’s neck. 

But he’s not here anymore. And Eddie can’t get him back. No matter how much he aches for it, no matter how much he learned over and over and over again how easy it is to love Steve Harrington and how hard, how fucking impossible it is to lose him. Over and over and over again. 

And to live without him. This one fucking time they all get. It’s not fair. 

And now Robin is asking him to go back one more time and make sure that Steve knows— That he knows. 

Somehow the thought of that feels nobler than any attempt to save him, to bring him back; to rewrite history from a lonely boy’s perspective and hope that no one else is reading along. 

It feels right, too. Fundamentally and suddenly, and with such an intensity that Eddie knows the decision has been made the second he started telling her. 

Still he hesitates. Robin’s sobs have calmed down, and Eddie’s hand finds its way into her hair. 

“Do you really mean it?” 

She nods.

He nods, too, but slower. Like he’s trying to sway himself. Which way, he doesn’t know. 

“Make him happy.” 

“Okay,” he decides after a while, feeling hollow and desperate, but feeling purpose burning underneath his skin again. “One last time.” 

He unwinds his arms from around her and heads inside to grab his acoustic guitar. The last remaining string, badly untuned because he never dared to touch it, stares back at him in both mockery and invitation. A dare. A chance. A promise. 

Outside, Robin is waiting for him, looking anxious. Eddie wants to hug her. He doesn’t, only tightens his grip around the guitar’s neck. 

“Listen, Eddie, if this is goodbye or something—“ 

“It’s a birthday party, Robsie,” he interrupts her, aiming for light, aiming for brave. “I’m coming back right here.” 

“I know,” she rushes to say, taking a step toward him and wringing her hands. It’s endearing. It’s genuine. Eddie really is a little in love with her. “But, y’know, you don’t mess with time, and I don’t know what all you already changed before and I don’t wanna know but… If this is goodbye, if something happens, I just wanna tell you that I’m gonna miss you. And that I think you’re really cool. And that Steve’s— he’s really missing out, okay. Okay?” 

Eddie breathes, taking in her words and letting them soak into his body, his every last fibre. 

“Okay,” he smiles. “Thank you. You’re… I’m kind of in love with you, Robin Buckley. So there had better be no change in the universe, ‘cause that would really suck.” 

They smile at each other, Eddie with his guitar and Robin with her lighter, and somehow this feels like a deja-vu. The antithesis to a moment forever burned into his memory.

Make him pay. 

Make him happy. 

Eddie tugs on his necklace and plays the string before he can think about it too hard; before he can decide otherwise. 

Distantly, he hears the church bells announcing midnight as the world around him fades. 

🤍 permanent tag list gang: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @cryptic-cryptid @hotluncheddie @gutterflower77 @auroraplume @steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important @stevesjockstrap @puppy-steve @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 @madigoround @pukner @i-amthepizzaman @swimmingbirdrunningrock @hammity-hammer @stevesbipanic @bitchysunflower @estrellami-1 @goodolefashionedloverboi @awkwardgravity1 @devondespresso @bookworm0690 (lmk if you want on or off, for this story or permanently)

[puhpandas]

I think the reason beckory works well is that tony has a habit of getting self righteous and in his own head about things but Gregory isnt afraid to tell him off or call him out about things. the point of tony in ggy is that nobody ever told him that how hes treating other people isnt good, so that's why he got so bad. but tony would be close to Gregory and have every rational reason in the world to listen to Gregory so when he would say something like "you're treating ellis badly and that's not what a good friend does, you need to do better" hed actually listen and take it into account and improve himself

[mettywiththenotes]

Ngl Mic's reaction is giving me Nana vibes. The whole grief of their situations being brought up and wanting so desperately for it to end already, to choose the easy way out just so it stops hurting

Nana going from crying because Izuku wanted to save Tomura and feeling grateful to then shouting at Izuku to kill him already. Mic going from "if you aren't Shirakumo fade away but if you are come back to us" to then grabbing Kurogiri by his clothes ready to punch him and yelling about how he shouldn't have given him the benefit of the doubt

I think it's also shown in the way Mic lists things that dehumanise Kurogiri too. "He's not crying, it's just the rain" "he has no tear ducts, he's a noumu" It's so clear he wants this to be over already

Same thing happened with Nana and Tomura. The vestiges too. They kept saying how he is destruction incarnate, how it's too late for him, how he's a "thing" "not human", just like Tomura said himself

Mic and Nana just let themselves think that way because it's the easy way out. They put a lid on their feelings, and in the final war arc it's like the lids got ripped off and it's all coming out now

That's why I think Aizawa and Izuku sort of parallel here. They wonder about their supposed enemies. "Why didn't he get rid of us? Why didn't he kill us when he could have?" Aizawa asks, physically reaching out to Kurogiri. "I have to ask why he can't let go of that sad lonely past of his!" Izuku says, also attempting to reach out to Tomura in his own way

"That's where their origins lie" Aizawa says as he thinks back to those school days. And Izuku was in Tomura's mind, literally at the center of his "origin"

Even though it's painful for Nana, Tomura and Mic, Aizawa and Izuku press on anyway because they can't help but wonder whether things can change. If things don't have to be this way

[dead-salmon]

this is me ranting about season's of blossom/hamin's flower, so TW SUICIDE, but anyways i don't know what's worse:

->hamin sacrificing his freedom so that jaemin could live freely, yet that freedom making jaemin feel like he's suffocating years down the line

-> somang's speech on how it's because of everyone that hamin killed himself, yet how it's none of their faults, especially not hamin's own

-> them using the phrase "disappeared from this world" to describe his suicide, not outright saying he killed himself

-> the theme of radiance. hamin feeling like somang was the radiant one and he was drenched in darkness, thus trying to distance himself from her. yet somang describing the summer with hamin her most radiant time, only because of his presence in her life, because he shined the brightest to her

-> jaemin who loved the rain because good things always happen to him then just for hamin to kill himself on a day where it rained non-stop. hamin who hated the rain but learnt to love it compared to jaemin who loved it but now dislikes it

-> hamin's suicide indirectly preventing gaeul's and dongchae's attempts. somang being unknowingly destined to lose a loved one either way

-> jaemin's parents not knowing how to handle hamin's suicide, his mother depending on him to be happy and his father being distant and too lax on everything. driving him further into his own abyss. hamin having sacrificed his happiness and acting too grown up for his age to protect jaemin from their parents strictness. jaemin ending up doing the same for his mother, faking a smile and comforting her about the pain of hamin's suicide

-> hamin not having heard the latter part of jaemin telling seonhui that while he resents hamin a little, he still loves hamin most of all. hamin having died thinking jaemin hates him, somang's last words to him calling him a coward

-> jaemin being lowkey passively suicidal and even trying a form of self-harm to understand hamin and deal with the pain of losing hamin

-> the fact that we start hamin's story already knowing how it ends

[moe-broey]

Would you like some strangely elaborate specific ass headcanons? Of course you do!!!! Also I'm outsourcing a very specific dilemma. But you have to Learn My Methods first. Okay? Okay!!!!

PIERCINGS. AS STORYTELLING DEVICES. GO!!!!

Okay! So what the hell are we looking at and what exactly am I trying to determine, here? Well!!! There's a few different facets to this.

FIRST OF ALL. REALLY REALLY CUTE AND ALWAYS SO FUN TO ME

One, two, three!!! They're a set of three, and they're marked as such by how many sets of piercings they have in their ears. It's such a small detail that happened more by coincidence than intent, but it makes drawing all three of them together feel coherent and again, fun! I also really like the storytelling/contrast of the Askr siblings having golden jewerly, while Moe's is in silver (it does mix silver and gold more broadly -- but I'm talking just the face/ears here!). You get the sense (... in addition to Moe's more scruffy appearance in general), that one is from a more "common" background.

Okay, but what's all that text? STORYTELLING.... 2

Piercings, as a way to indicate connections to other characters, and to imply background information.

First example, it's noted that Bruno has had his in for a long time (... kind of regretting the specificness of "as a kid". That's supposed to have implications, but tbh it may be more fitting for Bruno as a whole to simply have said, "A Long Time"). He wears something modest, maybe a common stone, but still eye-catching. I like to think Alfonse became enamored with it (guys can also do this???), same way he was completely smitten by all of Zacharias. One extremely questionable piercing job courtesy of Zacharias himself and egged on by Sharena (who made a generous donation and/or sacrifice from her own jewelry box) later, it's a miracle he managed to heal them. Equally impressive is how long he managed to hide them as a teenager.

Meanwhile, you see Sharena's example is pretty straightforward! Assigned ear-stabbing at birth. It worked out well, though! Aside from that one time where her piercings mysteriously closed up and they had to be re-done, when she was little. Which could mean nothing. Alls well that ends well! In fact, she liked the look so much she decided to get another set done! Which may or may not come back later...

I will admit, the saddle plugs on Bruno were an impulse decision I made drawing this out (so not a super strong design headcanon, and maybe I could draw it better w more practice tbh, test run ect ect), BUT. MORE IMPORTANTLY. That idea, AND NEXT UP: STORYTELLING... 3.

On top of noting significant connections and providing background information -- here, you have gaining more and/or doing different Things with your piercings, as a way to indicate the passage of time or a change of taste. Woah, that's a lot of text! That's just my autism showing, I'll do you a favor -- with Moe specifically, the biggest takeaway here is:

One, two, three. There are other iderations of Moe of course, plenty of awkward in-between stages. But as I've developed it, I've found that there's like... three really plot relevant parts of its life. One easy to forget, two OH GOD OH FUCK, three that's the guy who lives here now. AWESOME!!!!

OKAY. OKAY. PEONY she has BEEN HERE THIS WHOLE TIME. What's up with that?

So we have background implications/information, we have connections to other characters, and NOW. WE HAVE. Paths that diverge. Sharena, 2. Peony, 1. Plus, a little bit of shape language with those tear drop earrings... on Sharena specifically...... ohghhghhf........

I've always been really indecisive with my Peony designs (for some reason it has been SUCH A STRUGGLE FOR ME), but I do like the simplicity of this one actually. The "Princess Peach core" note about Sharena is more about her color palette, but after writing that I went You know what. Fuck it *gives Peony Princess Peach earrings*. This does feel subject to change, but the idea they could be like water droplets is so cutes... I have really wanted to give Peony earrings with a blue gem though, BECAUSE...

The blue and silver are a nod to this reoccurring detail on Peony! So not only does it tie back to Sharena (IMPORTANT), it also (theoretically.) ties together nicely overall!!

Okay. So. Where does this leave me. Why did I draw all this out? All these little details that exist in my mind, why did I go out of my way to create this elaborate in-depth demonstration? Remember when I said I was gonna outsource some shit?

PROBLEM: I NEVER. EVER. EVEEEERRRRRR KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH LIF'S EARRINGS‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️���️‼️‼️‼️‼️ AND THE LACK OF DIRECTION IS BECOMING MORE AND MORE GLARING EVERY FUCKING TIME I DRAW HIM‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

And what prompted all of this. What REALLY made me Think About This. I did another "ehhh Fuck It" with Lif's piercings, where he's sharing a panel with Moe, and

Ooughgughfhghhh...... them having the same earring arrangement.

But then. Then. I got autism brained about it. I can see Bruno having fuck all time to stretch his ears while on some gayass journey (... the. Timelines. Time in between Events. Maybe he wouldn't have full big stretched ears in Book 1. HOWEVER). Inconvenient, maybe, but if he's dedicated to the grind. He can do it. And I mean, have you seen his muscles? Dude CARES about his appearance. Meanwhile Moe ABSOLUTELY had fuck all time to stretch its ears before arriving in Askr. Then I'm thinking about Alfonse. NEVERMIND how much time it takes to stretch your ears, I'm thinking about the Number Rules. I'm thinking about how he's One, the first guy of a set of Three. I'm thinking about the Number Rule, to indicate Time. Why WOULD he have Three? The Number Rule, as Paths Diverging. There's Two of him, not Three. ALSO ASKING MYSELF "Would Alfonse get more piercings???" LIKE NO. BECAUSE. THE. THE RULE OF THREE. THE ONE TWO THREE. WERE YOU EVEN LISTENING‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😫😫😫😫😫

Idk am I just insane. Am I a lost cause. Lif's ears are usually covered up by his long shaggy hair anyway. But really that does just make any time any piercings Would be visible, just. I am just so deeply conflicted torn between Goth Alt Men Hot and THE METHODS‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️ THE STORYTELLING THE METHODS MY DEEPLY INTRICATE RITUALS‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

[canarydarity]

and not to post more snippets of random au's in my google docs but

this is from a fun project i call "moon big but waht if jimmy was there"

[ohtendril]

two of you. always in sync

[icewindandboringhorror]

examining a seemingly normal image only to slowly realize the clear signs of AI generated art.... i know what you are... you cannot hide your true nature from me... go back where you came from... out of my sight with haste, wretched and vile husk

[ducktracy]

what a fantastic transition

[formal-frog-shoes]

Twiststuck stuff i just wanna get out

Im a huge Cater multi-shipper

Normally this wouldn't be a problem

BUT I CAN'T HAVE ALMOST EVERYONE IN THIS AU HAVE A FLUSH OR PALE CRUSH ON HIM THAT'S ABSURD!!!

[b00m-b0mb]

What would I call SK/Joe/Samurai...

Punch Kick Slice?

(But is that too close to PKT?)

[darewolfcreates]

Arson and Dare are ready for the final fest.

I miss camping and I've never gone to a festival.

[thedreamerstoryteller]