#ok going back to sleep now

[wordsbyrian]

Congrats to @wosofanstuff for surviving her seminar and officially becoming a Lorax! You're another step closer to being able to speak for the trees in Australia!!!

[jesuschristt-thatsaprettyface]

these new iwtv shots are !!!!!!!! woweeee

[blueskyheadleft010]

Me: *eyes snap open from deep slumber*

Me: 3D printers

[boyslit]

MC in a shirt that says 'my ex boyfriend tried to sacrifice me in a demonic ritual and all I got was this lousy t-shirt'

[distractionpie]

Help why is it 5:23am and I'm waking up from the dream of the Eddie episode involving Eddie in Texas and it's not going so well but then his parents' neighbour has an emergency involving a kid being put in a traumatic situation and most of it was dream vague but when Eddie is reassuring the neighbour that kids are capable of more than the people around them often think I got such a vivid moment of "You know, my son saved my family in the tsunami" and he's right bc Christopher ended up alone but got through it and it would have destroyed Buck and Eddie both if he hadn't but also damn what a framing

[littleplantfreak]

been thinking about ur fav assisting you with the hand job you’re giving him. Either you’re not used to giving one or maybe their cock is big enough that your hand can’t wrap around fully, but regardless it has them putting their hand over yours and showing you how they like it. They’re dribbling over both your hands with pre and really all you have to do is watch while they use your hand to get themselves off atp

[rotruff]

oughhh ..... waking up in the middle of the night or just a little too early and your f/o groggily tugging you back into place with some little half-coherent words of encouragement. call them selfish, but they'll take the label with no complaint if it means they get to have you lie down at their side just a while longer. the tired little motions they go through to try and make sure that you're able to fall back asleep before they let themself do the same, whether that be tracing shapes along your skin in gentle little gestures or even humming, they're putting the effort in even though sleep might be clinging onto them like a 2 ton weight.

[luna-loveboop]

Linktober day twelve- favourite game

Skyward sword! My favourite game forever :)) The duets with Fi are by far my favourite gameplay aspect and recurring scenes in the game.

The music is The Ballad of the Goddess with Link's harp accompaniment. I played through on three different instruments like fifteen times, and checked every note on ocarina before I carved it. So. It's very accurate. Close ups of the music +my reference because yes

Also I replaced the treble clef with the triforce

:)

[xxplastic-cubexx]

it doesnt need to be said but its genuinely so funny how at-the-hip charles and erik are in krakoa like they really had the green light- the OBLIGATION- to be as obnoxiously close to each other as possible and abused that right to the fullest extent

[monstroso]

Traintober Day 12: Something Borrowed

Borrowed from the BR by Oliver, borrowed by everyone else subsequently. He doesn't mind, every engine could use a reliable brake van.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

Riz has counted four casseroles this week alone. Five, if one goes by the method of cooking, but Yelen's scary when she's crossed, and calling her burek by its proper name is important to her, so Riz does her the courtesy and doesn't include it in his mental tally.

He holds the tupperware over his head to keep it out if the way as he takes careful steps over the piles of notes in his path. The dockman case just closed, relevant documentations handed over to relevant personnels, evidences dealt with as needed; all he has lying around now is just record of the process and traces of himself thinking through it. Unsurprisingly they still haven't invented a surface more convenient for people under five feet who like to pace to put pieces of paper on than the ground.

Actual records go into the case folder with the other documents. Anything else with at least one side still blank is going to the school kids in the block - they chew through an astounding amount of paper just learning arithmetic. The rest is for the recycling basket.

Later. It's his mandated lunch break right now.

Riz sits down in front of the corner file cabinet. In an office often overrun with papers and strings and sometimes even thumbtacks, he's never really managed to clutter up this exact square of surface like every other ones. Ever since the bottom drawer rattled for no discernible reason a day long past, his eyes have always just kinda decided to slide across the space without acknowledging it.

It's years out, now. Riz doesn't know why he thought it such a big deal anymore, back then. He wasn't scared, he doesn't think. Not anymore. Maybe just uncomfortable with the idea that certain things persist despite all efforts to change.

He opens the tupperware. Dame Carabelle's experiment greets him with enough spice in the aroma alone to knock out a small mammal. When he chopped the vegetables for this casserole he couldn't really imagine the eventual heft of it, evident even through just these few ladles' worth, maybe weighing heavier for being still warm. His folk eat more through the smell and the textures and the aftertastes than the taste itself. His folk's meal is really the cooking rather than the eating. The eating is the meal's end.

"Hey," he tells the file cabinet's bottom drawer. "Um."

It's the anniversary. Riz doesn't know the exact date of his dad's death; nobody currently alive does. He and Mom both use the date of the funeral, though as he moved out to Bastion and then got more directly involved with Interplanar he hasn't really been going to Dad's grave as much. Doesn't seem like very efficient use of his time, catching a train or borrowing a car or spending a whole spell slot on going somewhere he knows Dad isn't at. They're sorta coworkers now. They talk on and off every other week between missions. When he goes now, it's just to clean up the place, keeping the landmark tidy and respectable.

Without that work to mark the date he doesn't really know what it serves anymore. But he still remembers it. Still takes note, absently or not, when it comes around.

There's not really a good way to tell the drawer that. Riz looks for another way to start the... conversation, hopefully. The question at play, he'd guess, is why he's doing this. He's been pretty content ignoring all the rattlings and the knocks from inside and the times it sits slightly ajar without him ever opening it himself; hell, he still uses the three drawers on top of it. Space is fucking precious in Bastion.

Precious enough to finally fix this damn drawer so he gets his turn to use it? Riz asks himself. Is that what we're getting to? Then he dismisses the thought - he didn't manage to fix it the times he actually tried, let alone-- now. When he doesn't really care that much to.

That's probably a good place to start. "'s fine if you keep being in there, turns out," Riz says.

The lunch hours are quiet in the block, sleepy and bright with the brief window of sunlight that manages to break through roof overhangs and extended balconies and laundry lines and climbing vines. Riz's work isn't loud here (the loud parts happen away from his office, if everything goes right), but the fragment of early summer heat reflected in the steady warmth his meal still carries compels him to lower his voice even more. It makes the words feel intimate, in a way he's never been familiar with - if he says something he just says it. He doesn't whisper. If he gives his friends something, he gives it open-palm. He's found out, along the way, that people usually don't think of rituals and courtesies the way he does.

Small voice for a diminished monster. "You know why I think so?" Riz asks. "Because almost two decades ago you kidnapped me and almost killed me, and now you rattle a drawer in my office."

It doesn't sound as much like a taunt as Riz wanted it to; the drawer has made a lot of noises again this morning when he checked the calendar, and he was definitely annoyed at it. Now, though, facing it like this after cooking the whole morning with more grandparents and peers from the block than he can count on both hands to cater for a tenant union meeting, he thinks the annoyance has morphed. Changed shape.

It has the shades of something like pity. Riz is not prone to pity, and especially not at these kinda matters. It's slightly maddening that he coheres perfectly outside of this one spot. That he commands his spaces, except for a drawer.

He puts the tupperware onto the floor between himself and the cabinet. "I know we're aware it's the anniversary," he says at the drawer. "You do this every year. You make a ruckus every time I decide to go do my job instead of mooching off my friends' aircon, and every time I get an invitation to some stupid social thing I want to turn down, and every time one of the old people tries to introduce me to a child or a nibling, because being a bachelor over thirty is weird," he pinches the bridge of his nose. "I have three fucking jobs. I love doing my fucking jobs. I'm forcing funds into infrastructures. You're never leaving, are you."

The drawer vibrates lightly. It's a very, very mild acknowledgement, considering the history of reactions Riz has gotten from this thing. Riz thinks it's emanating joyous agreement, or satisfaction.

It only sharpens the pity. Riz doesn't like that, but it's how it is. That's, ultimately, the lesson he's been taught over and over and over again, just by existing as himself, turned every which way by space after space that don't see him eye-to-eye: it's not like he'd quit living over any of it. It's not like any of it can sand off these fundamental pieces of him.

He's outgrown a lot of things, he's found out. Again, and again, and again. A childhood home, a yearly trip, a monster.

"'s probably scary for you, huh?" He asks. "Because I left."

He thinks he hears joints creak that sound like you did. Probably the way a scorned lover would say it, in a movie or a yellowback. He has no more connection to the idea than he did as a kid. Less, because it doesn't even scare him.

"That's what it is, right? That it's the anniversary, and I'll never be like Dad." He raises a knee from the floor, pulls it back closer to him. Slings an arm over it. "You love to remind me. The thing is, Dad also left. He loved Mom and he loved me, and none of us wanted it to happen, but it still did. Because love does fuckall to make anyone stay on its own."

He's long past being bitter about it. It's just the facts. Once upon a time he looked into the future and the specter of his friends' happily-ever-after casted lightless, fathomless shadow over him. Love, marriage, that kind of devotion, to a fifteen-year-old with more solved cases than friends seemed so eternal. Final.

But you can only watch your friends build up apps' worth of jilted lovers for so long before getting over it.

"You know what I learned?" Riz tells the drawer. "Love doesn't make anyone stay. Project management does."

He stands up, and picks up the tupperware of Dame Carabelle's casserole, that he helped make, that he helped share with a block's worth of neighbors and members of a community he's at home with, and goes sit at his desk to eat. "Last chance to get any," he drops an offer over his shoulder as he walks away.

He doesn't eat all of his share in one go. What he's spared he leaves on the desk when going outside for a smoke break. Baron looks the exact same as when he saw them last, when he catches a glimpse; they haven't grown at all. They aren't there when he comes back inside, but the leftover has gone days-old cold, like someone's sucked the future out of it.

[aleiiii]

So, this is a silly ask scenario. So let's say MK and Na somehow managed to convince Wukong to start cleaning his treasure hoard. Ask MK and Na are cleaning in one spot together, Wukong and Macaque are 'cleaning ' in another(they are arguing of course), they get into a tussle and something on the top of the stack falls down and smacks them both on the head. It's a magical object that reverts them to their base instincts. How would they react to both MK and Na? Would they see Na as a potential mate to woo and MK as their cub or something? BTW, sorry for the late happy birthday! Happy Birthday!

Very sketchy comic but I defo wanted to doodle this out hehe

MK being a neglected child but Mac’s trying his best

[wuntrum]

think i'm actually going to put in my two weeks tomorrow. im gonna DIEEEEE

[ineed-to-sleep]

*me immediately after going through a terrifying and traumatic experience* haha yeah I guess it was rough but I'm fine now like I'm totally chill. It was kinda funny actually if you think about it

[ribbittrobbit]

Wuvvy, formerly of the Court of Hoof and Claw

(@quiddie i still cannot comprehend how much i love wuvvy)

[thelastdayalive]

[x]