#they’re all so good lmao

[orrsoared]

I read hockey chirps when I’m sad. Here’s some of my absolute favorites:

“Your brother is ugly.” (Burish to a Sedin twin)

“So, how do the hotdogs smell?” (Erik Cole to Marchand)

“Come on Chelios you old fuck! Skate!” (Jason Ralph / UHL Game)

“Post another workout video you fucking loser.”(Frederic to Subban)

“You were in the minors longer than me you dumb fuck. Go dye your hair.” (Matt Martin)

“Buddy, in a couple of years you’ll be working 9 to 5 and I’ll be making 925.” (Bowen Byram)

[Honorable Mentions: Giroux calling JVR a pigeon and proceeding to chirp at him and a Red Wings fan telling a Leafs fan that at least their Stanley Cup pictures are in color.]

[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)

[peekaboo6293]

byler doubt don’t know me 🫶

[a-stars-art-blog]

JoJo phase may have died but he’s still living in my heart <3

[jellyjamheadobb]

Not this being me at a local grocery store earlier :D

[happypeachsludgeflower]

Me: I love all the ships equally

Also me: *writes 50+ fics about fengqing being moronic gremlins in love*

[thepersonperson]

I think JJK going on break after the last chapter is a bit cruel. This is nerve-wracking. We still have 3 chapters left and so many things can happen there. 268 feels too good to be true and the title is weird.

I'm not sure what is the right translation and I don't have access to raws. Right now, it's 268 title is "Finale" or "Conclusion" but I heard from someone that it can be also be read as "Curtains".

If it can be read as "Curtains", then it could be a reference to "final curtains". The problem is JJK has its own version of "Curtains", right? Idk what to think.

Gosh I wish it was “Curtains”. The chapter title is 決着 (Kecchaku) which means settlement/conclusion/end.

For example, at the end of an extremely brutal fight in Jojo's Bizarre Adventure, Jolyne screams “Kechakuuuuuuu!” (決着ゥゥーーーッ!!) (It's actually a small Jojo meme in the JP fandom.) This got translated as "Game set!"

I love the localization they used for this since that entire battle was like struggling in arcade mode for a fighting game.

Anyways, in the context of JJK, especially since this has been a literal Sukuna Gauntlet and the previous chapter had the “Ringing the bell on a long fight.” editor’s comment, I don’t think there’s an ambiguous way to read Kecchaku. The Curtain/Veil kanji in JJK is 帳 (Tobari). (Though if there’s some fancy wordplay I’m missing please let me know.)

However…I would kneel before Gege if this was an elaborate trick by Sukuna—him giving Yuji delusions of a happy ending only to yank it away last second. It’s very hard to make characters feel familiar but slightly off on purpose for misdirection. That kind of tonal control is something I praise Umineko for. (Dungeon Meshi does it excellently for the shapeshifter scene.)

But that is pure copium I think. Sometimes otherwise good media just fumbles the endings. (Not an example of good media, but I was around for the Secret BBC Sherlock Season 4 Ending meltdown so I’m not too hopeful about a turnaround.) I personally blame the JP work culture/crunch since a lot of modern mangas have rushed endings due to burnout/unfair contracts.

I think the most heartbreaking examples of this phenomenon for me are The Owl House and Moral Orel. Those shows still stick the landing imo, but the creators are very open about how studio interference forced them to condense everything. You can feel that suffocation in the final episodes. Everything is just slightly off and you know it would be better if the creators were allowed their breathing room.

[leviiackrman]

SIMS 4 OC LOOKBOOK: The Rikihisas - Saeka, Nanami Kento, Poko & Gojo Satoru

Second collection, featuring my dysfunctional sisters and their besties: Nanami and Gojo! My beloved @risingsh0t’s Anzu will also be added to this household for her man Gojo, as well as Toge Inumaki for Poko and a few other friends to fill out their school! (Yes I’m building the whole school…) Hope you enjoy!

Ackermans

Tag list (ask to be added or removed): @carrionsflower @statichvm @risingsh0t @simonxriley @tommyarashikage @kanos @bbrocklesnar @confidentandgood @unholymilf @florbelles @thedeadthree @shellibisshe @roofgeese @aezyrraeshh @faerune @tekehu @jackiesarch @minaharkers @sergeiravenov @carlosoliveiraa @rosenfey @nokstella @queennymeria @heroofpenamstan @alexxmason @tethrras @jamessunderlandgf @a-treides @solasan @bigbywlf @delzinrowe

[azure-clockwork]

How Does it Feel to Read Classic Sci-Fi?

Orson Scott Card: Two of the most interesting books you’ll ever read if you’re willing to look past a handful of things. And then you find the planet of Chinese people who worship having debilitating OCD. And the Mormonism. And the fact that the author is wildly homophobic and ought to read his own books.

Robert Heinlein (or at least the Wikipedia Summaries): I guess that’s a neat concept—oh, it’s a sex thing. Um. Gotcha.

Ray Bradbury: Man, I gotta read this thing for class huh. Well here’s hoping it’s good! *three hours later* oh. that’s why he’s famous. this will stick with me forever and I will never look at the phrase ‘soft rain’ the same again. christ. And then repeat 3x.

Isaac Asimov: Wow, this is such an interesting concept! I wonder how the exploration of it will influence the plot! Wait, hey, are you going to add any characters? Any of em? No like, with character traits other than ‘robot psychologist’ and ‘autistic’ and ‘woman’? None of em? No, ‘detective’ isn’t a character trait. Those are all just facts. Aaaand now I’m bored.

Ursula K. Le Guin: Hah, get a load of this guy! He’s never heard of nonbinary people before. Lol, what a riot; how dumb do you have to be to comprehend that these people aren’t men *or* women actually? Oh, wait, what’s happening. Oh shit, it was about society and love and learning to understand each other? And now I’m crying? And perhaps a better human being for it??

Andy Weir: Alright, this guy’s a really good writer. Funny, creative, knows so much engineering stuff…ooh, a new book! …I guess he can’t write women. Well, he wouldn’t be the first sci-fi writer…ooh another new book! And it’s more engineering problem solving and—wow. It’s not just women he can’t write. Please stop letting your characters talk to each other.

Lois Lowry: Oh, I remember this being fun when I was a kid! Wouldn’t it be fucked up to not see color? …upon reread, it would be fucked up to have your humanity stripped away, replaced with a tepid, beige ‘happiness’ for all time. Yeah.

Tamsyn Muir (let me have this ok): Haha, “lesbian necromancers in space” sounds fun. Lemme read this. Oh wow, yeah, this is right up my alley. OH GOD WHAT. NO. FUCK. OH SHIT WHAT IS EVEN HAPPENING AND WHY IS IT REFERENCING THE BOOK OF RUTH AND HOMESTUCK BACK TO BACK!!! AHHHHHHHHH!! Now give me more please.

[cuntmand]

this was kinda the worst episode out of the entire series tbh simply because of the pacing. i liked the episode, but it was all over the place. they tried to tie in all the lose ends in 50 minutes, and that just wasn’t possible. louis being imprisoned, then released, losing his mind, recovering, AND burning down the theater and killing santiago, all in the span of like 5 minutes, the whole louis/lestat/armand scene, daniel exposing armand, loumand divorcing (that was so underwhelming, esp after 2x05, like, i needed these bitches to have a proper verbal argument, i needed them to be AT EACH OTHER’S THROATS), armand turning daniel (offscreen, cause they didn’t have time to get into all that, cause like… no way it was that simple lol there were too many devil’s minion hints throughout both seasons), louis flying to nola, reuniting with lestat (they have far too long and complex a history for it to be resolved so quickly, it would’ve been far more meaningful had it been done right), daniel publishing his book (compiling, writing, editing, publishing it AND selling 4-5 million copies must have taken a lot of time, so time jump, i guess?)… just by typing this out, it’s too much, way too much to cover in a single episode. the hectic pace left me unsatisfied and it also left a lot of room for plot holes (no more unreliable narrators now, cause the interview is done). idk i think they really should’ve split this into two episodes, at least. one of the things that i really admired about this show was the pace. in season 1, they managed to cover 3 decades in the span of only 7 episodes, while simultaneously showing us what was happening in dubai in 2022, and it never felt rushed. season 2’s pacing was still amazing and satisfying, up until this episode. idk man… i hope this doesn’t happen again, cause it really left a bitter taste in my mouth, and it was the finale, so my expectations were high.

[stardust-sunset]

Brody showed up to work this week! OMG!!! Does he want a medal?? Josh Boone has a CHILD and he’s in more than Brody.

And I know you’re going to use the shitty excuse “he’s been in a lot!!!” but that’s bullshit. Why are we praising an adult man for showing up to work.

why do you care? why are you bitching about him being absent? and i know you’re gonna use the shitty excuse “Oh BuT hE HaSnT bEeN iN!” but like…he has been? this message is confusing lmfao do you want him to be in or not? you’re insinuating both. make your intentions clear.

im saying its nice that he’s in more is all. if you don’t like what i post or what i say on MY blog mind you then block me.

also i think you should come off anon and talk to me face to face but whatever. be a coward and use the mask of anonymity to hide who you are. i find it funny all these people who are anti outsiders or anti brody choose to stay on anon. like say it to my face. if i can answer you without anonymity have the decency to say this kind of thing to my face.

and btw i’m not praising him for “going to work” im saying it’s nice that he’s in more and seems to be enjoying his job again. and why do his absence matter so much to you? why does it bother you so much that he’s out and that i post about it being a good thing that someone seems to be finally having fun at their job after a rough patch?don’t put words in my mouth.

so cry about it and block me if you’d not like my content. thank you!

(just figured i’d mention by the way that i’m not saying that if you dislike brody you’re automatically on my shit list. everyone is entitled to their own opinions. everyone is allowed to think whatever they want AS LONG AS IT ISNT HURTING ANYONE. but i do think it’s funny how im the one everyone sends anonymous brody hate to like some of the things you anti brody people say about him are WILD. so yes. i will defend him in the reason that nobody should be bitching about his absences or saying rude things, but i absolutely don’t want it to seem like i’m saying that you HAVE to like him. You don’t have to like him but it’s possible to not like him without being a huge jerk to him or anyone who supports him.)

[danandfuckingjonlmao]

JUSTICE FOR NAVIGATING 📢📢📢

[cillixn]

I saw that u reblog a lot of fics and I was wondering if u would recommend me some of ur favourite ones?

yeah of course! i’m not sure if you want recs for a specific character or just in general but here is a very (not so) small handful of my personal favorites:

i’ll think of you by @everyonesawhore

this beautiful little jonny crane blurb by @huntingingoodwill

stay here with me by @creme-bruhlee

chiaroscuro by @moral-terpitude

his property by @peakyscillian

the secretary by @fortheloveoffanfic

memories made to last forever by @little-diable

right where you want me by @bonniesgoldengirl

mixup by @helio-nex

rehearsals by @cillmequick

or if you’re looking for some really incredible longer reads:

baker’s girl by @everyonesawhore

the lockdown sessions by @cillmequick

the boy in the window by @notyour-valentine

blind date (here and here) by @gypsy-girl-08

the arkham patient by @queenshelby

i hope this helps bud 💕

[umemiyan]

do you ever feel like you’re getting in the way of your own selfships or are you normal

[angelnumber27]

*he spilled my cup of paint water all over everything idk why I said he spilled watercolors I just woke up girls

I literally walked away for two minutes tops to make coffee and came back to his ass sitting on this water color palette and my painting open after spilling my watercolor water all over it

Look at that face. He knows he did something wrong hahahha

[legendofrhythm]

So you’re telling me some shrimp performed this shuffle??