home-and-away

                      Here’s one for your history books 

Most points in a Premier League season 

  1. Chelsea ‘04/05 (95) 
  2. Chelsea ‘16-17 (93) 

Most wins in a Premier League season 

  1. Chelsea ‘16/17 (30) 
  2. Chelsea ‘04/05 (29) 
  3. Chelsea ‘05/06 (29) 

Longest unbeaten home run (86 games) 

Longest run of consecutive away wins (11 games)

Most goals in a Premier League season (103 goals)

Fewest goals conceded in a Premier League season (15 goals)

Most consecutive wins in a Premier League season (joint 13)

Most home (18) / away (15) wins in a Premier League Season

Most goals scored at home (68) / Fewest conceded away (9) 

Best goal difference (+71) 

Most clean sheets in a Premier League Season (Petr Cech, 21)

+ there’s more less significant ones (◕‿◠✿) 

                      making history, not reliving it

Darling, just hold on ♡ 

Spring ~ Summer ~ Fall ~ Winter

As everything laid dead around us, we found ourselves again. Bones bared, open wounds and steeled resolve. Our graves, set side by side, though neither of us laid in either of them. Our lives, battlefields once more, blood and shouts and rage and your eyes finding mine. Disbelief. Hope. Our love. Different and yet the same. This time, nothing stood between us. Just you and me. Our last years, our shared winter.

2

I think there’d be some initial confusion on the concept of a pet not being something you eat for dinner, but this was too cute of an idea not to do some quick doodles for. <3

[170509 ASTRO TWITTER UPDATE]

로하로하 저녁먹을시간이에요💜
맛있는거 많이많이 먹고 남은하루 파이팅하기💜
#저는 #돈까스 #먹어요 #ㅎㅎ💜

[TRANS]

RohaRoha it’s dinner time💜
Eat delicious food and fighting for today💜
#Late #Donkatsu  #Haha💜

trans via astrodaily

[fic] darling so it goes

he tian x mo guan shan (1st half); jian yi x zhengxi (2nd half)

tags/notes: fluff, swearing, light altercation in the form of a head cuff, title from here, ‘SAR’ is a military term for ‘search-and-rescue’ 

synopsis: after-shot of chapter 196.

‘What crawled up his ass?’

He Tian cuffed the top of Guan Shan’s head. It earned him a sharp exhalation from where Guan Shan sat on the bench, scowling up at him, features pinched, eyes washed copper in the sun.

‘Jian Yi,’ He Tian said. ‘He’s missing.’

They watched Zhengxi stalk across the court in silence, smudges of purple storms under his eyes, shoulders rounded and taut. He swiped a basketball from the bag on the side of the court, threw it aimlessly against the chain-link fence. The sound rattled, ball smacking back down to asphalt, the whole fence trembling around the perimeter with the aftershock like soundwaves.

‘Like … missing?’

He Tian made a quiet ‘hm’ sound. He’d heard nothing from his brother. The SAR must have been immediate, no handler, a quick in-and-out job. Carefully planned, cleanly executed. No casualties except a pulled shoulder from the rebound of a gun. It was only a matter of time before someone went for Jian Yi. You couldn’t have a father like that and have your hands kept clean for long. You couldn’t have a father like that and not escape without some bullet holes.

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