#i made myself sadder

[bearlytolerant]

“do not weep for me. close your eyes and find me in your dreams.” -gwyn

[gerudospiriit]

[Late stage capitalism really is just hell, isn't it?]

[ghostlynimbus]

A little ways into her first year at Hawkins High School Max finds a little "Billy Hargrove was here" carved into a desk at the back of one of her classes.

A while after that, when she's looking for some space to be alone for a while she finds another written in sharpie on the underside of the bleachers out by the furthest field from the rest of the school.

After that she starts looking for them.

She finds another in the back of the school auditorium, another on one of the tables in the cafeteria. She finds a few more looking around in the boys locker room and bathrooms, and in the girls too.

She finds them outside of school too. Scratched into the side of a boulder out in the woods, scribbled on the wall of a booth at the diner.

Tiny little reminders scattered through out Hawkins, all proclaiming the same thing.

Billy Hargrove was here.

[explodingstarlight]

ngl I was in the mood to draw an unhinged character today and I’ve been eyeing @snailsnaps "Programmed Obsolescence" AU for a hot second so,,,

AU Playlist (for funsies)

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

putting my sappiest silliest little satoru thoughts directly into this fic

[wikitpowers]

kit’s edom vision would be johnny showing him love and affection and caring for him as a real father should, as well as accepting kit’s relationship with ty ↳ also, it would definitely include ty kissing him a lot and telling him how much he loves him :(

[sysig]

Wake up somewhere better, maybe (Patreon)

[deadmaidclub]

just watched star trek ds9 episode The Wire and i think that was in fact the only episode of television ever made holy shit

[cosmicdenro]

today i *auto tune baby crying

[desertsportshipping]

Healing isn't linear, and sometimes part of that process is admitting you need a self care dare of cuddling some sheep.

[bluntforcefem]

the thing is, right. that i wrote 75 fics for blaseball. more, if you count tumblr prompts - more if you count wiki pages. over the course of late 2020 to the very beginning of 2023, i wrote more for blaseball than i have for anything else, except maybe my friends' oc rp. maybe i'll never write that much for fandom again. my writing developed so much over that period of time - blaseball gave me a lot of inspiration and a lot of practice!! i met incredible writers through it who inspire me so much To This Day. i met incredible people with incredible ideas. i still lurk around in the crabitat, because the community there is lovely and i love looking for secondhand recommendations in the media channels. i could list a lot of regulars i've just... seen around, for about 2, 3 years. blaseball offered me both the opportunity to grow as a writer and the opportunity to find communities that, even if some of them fell apart, taught me a lot of things anyways. i'm still in contact with a lot of people i met through blaseball, and that's fucking lovely!!

i can't say i'm sad it's over. i guess i'm a little sad. but blaseball's been dying for a while, now, and it's the kinda thing you sorta see on the horizon. i'm one of the people who distanced themself from it before it came, and i'm a little grateful to my past self for that - i've got so much going on that i don't have quite enough room for a "i just moved across the country and also tot clark died in my funny game so i'm going to lose it for 5 hours" kind of night. i still have everything that matters. the experience, the community, the funny little guys. but blaseball did a lot for me, so i wanted to say goodbye. here's goodbye.

there is a radio.

sometimes it's in the crabitat. sometimes it's in other stadiums, darkened locker rooms slowly collecting dust; maybe there's the occasional visitor, casting light across worn benches, footsteps leaving imprints on the tile. but there's less and less visitors.

most of the time, it's at home.

you can tune it, if you're careful. it likes to play what it wants, though, and so not-players-mostly-people just let it go, when they find it - whatever jaunty commentator/clawmentator voice it wants to remind them of, games stretching from the very first season to the very last, it gets to do that. it keeps playing, however distorted by static it gets.

time goes on.

there are less people to visit, as time goes on. some people grow old and die. some people don't die, but they do move on, and the radio knows it'd be an unwelcome reminder. but there's always a handful to visit, to comfort, to celebrate with. immortals at a graveyard that used to be a field with strings of pearls in their pockets. the handful of players that kept playing, in the after, maybe other splorts or other games - but they kept playing, and they had fun, eventually. parties of people that used to be on different teams and now just share jerseys like old sweaters, trading stories of how their hometowns have changed since it ended.

sometimes the radio sticks around with someone for a while. sometimes it changes hands every day, every hour, switching its tune to match. sometimes nobody sees it for a very long time, and sometimes people forget it exists entirely. but it always comes back for a visit. a little memory, a little burst of joy-in-static. hello- hello- blaseball fans!

there is a radio. it's lasted for a long time, and it'll last for a while longer, even in the absence of blaseball itself. it lasted through ascension, after all. it lasted through siesta after siesta after siesta.

there is a radio, and there is a world moving on from blaseball.

there is a radio, and there is the lilt of old words, phrases quickly becoming antiquated, kept alive through pick-ups and muscle memory.

there is a radio, and there are people who used to be players.

there is a radio, and there are people who used to be fans, who still are fans, who still will be fans.

there is a radio, and it still loves.

there is a radio, and it still is loved.

(that's all for today's game, folks!)

there is a radio.

[avirael]

Night Lament in Hergla

- Leila Chatti

(Did I mean „sad“ when I said „back to my usual stuff“? Actually no! But I read this poem yesterday and I kept thinking about it and knew I had to do something related to it. You have to imagine the moon and the sound of the waves though...)

[aowna]

Why am I sad about Valeriy Duskhaven again. I WROTE THE BOOK!! I know what happens and *I, the author* made that man sad!! Purposefully!!

(the edits must be working because I'm on the verge of tears and it's only half of the book and I think I should give him a hug holy shit)

[donde-el-diablo-parquea-la-moto]

So I was trying to make myself sad with some fooligetta family angst in which Leo, Vege and Foolish are in a dungeon or a cave and the parents accidentally kill Leo with their swords. All good until I try to think about their in character reactions and they would probably laugh. Just. They would laugh (maybe Foolish more than Vegetta but still)

[miatring]

I just have a lot of feelings about the sad wizard okay? :(

[bitchy-peachy]

*Short adult character exists*

Some dumb asshole "You have to ship them with someone even shorter than them otherwise it's a ped0 ship 🤪."