#the MAJORITY of my time has been sitting

[enderspawn]

what nobody tells you about being That Bitch who wears heels/platforms daily is that if you stop doing that for any amount of time when you get back into it you have to rebuild your stamina for it from near square one

[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.

[vaguely-concerned]

few things bring me as much joy as my rook's expressive capacity for sudden withering disdain. (he's looking at illario here, of course lmao.) he's so hey i'm just a little guy...🥺 coded most of the time and then someone says something dumb enough that the mask cracks for a moment and every line of him says 'that is the stupidest fucking thing anyone has ever said to me and I'm aggrieved to even have had to hear it'. rye is mostly very kind but there IS a bastard lurking in his head waiting to be let out as well. not just solas but solas too I suppose. two bastards in rye ingellvar's head they keep each other company and are trying to strangle each other as we speak 😌.

(vs. him looking over at lucanis a moment later during the same line delivery. since lucanis was actively into viago once I cannot imagine that getting to watch rye crack and be kind of mean to people who've earned it when too sorely tried is like. entirely without allure to him fhskjadf. witnessing illario pulling the old ingratiating 'rooook reason with him would you~ I'm the cousin with the charisma stats' routine and This being rook's response probably opened some as of yet ill-understood '...I think I hauve covid' corners of lucanis' soul. tfw your buddy has your back so completely (dawning erotic implications))

[pseudospectre]

Rest easy, my beautiful girl. I didn't even get to love you for two years but it was worth every minute. I'll miss your yelling so much

[spaceratprodigy]

[ 😇 ] — doodle dump from priv

just some smaller things while I have fun w friends and find my groove again :]

Commission Info | Ko-Fi | My Links

[icewindandboringhorror]

Recent images I suppose ~

[thegreatyin]

Hey so you know Sunless Skies. Are you aware of the secret fourth Ambition? If so, there's something about it which haunts my dreams and has for years, and I need to spread the brainrot. If not, disregard this message, I don't want to give unsolicited spoilers. Sorry if the nature of the ask is in and of itself a spoiler.

i am indeed aware of it!!! i'm planning on pursuing it once i finish my current ambition in my current (and first) playthrough (the truth. i'm doing the truth as my very first ambition. because i apparently love to suffer and simply cannot do things by halves.)

[pickapea]

my absolutely biggest online pet peeve is US centric people projecting their rich sorority girl bully stereotype of nurses onto everyone else, as if nurses aren't working class and mostly immigrants of colour everywhere else. and when did it become cool to hate on underpaid and exploited workers anyway

[bookrat]

Do you sell any of these statues?

Yeah, pretty often. I've got a few to put up for sale this week actually.

[solar-halos]

can i complain about something? just kidding im gonna do it anyway (warning i talk about hurling)

at the beginning of the year, my brother blew chunks in my car. he did not tell me and instead cleaned it and then sprayed it with fabreeze before returning it to me. but then it started smelling really bad again so he had to admit his sins. idk about him but i was not gonna fucking drive my car when it smelled like someone’s vomit comet so i deodorized that shit with pine sol (while i was SICK. bc he apparently was not gonna do it). then i got it shampooed. then i stuck this super strong mutant masks-the-smell-of-anything air freshener in the trunk. and it seemed like it worked for a little while!!! up until it didn’t. idk i fabreezed it again (like fabreeze specifically for fabric) and i have a feeling that it’s not gonna be very long until it starts to smell again. which like. that’s MY CAR. like that is something i actively pay for. and he threw up in it. according to my other brother he didn’t even try to roll the window down he just immediately started vomiting

[soutsuji]

There's an English class on Golden Age detective fiction being offered next semester but the prerequisite for it is the intro to literary study class required for all English majors (which I haven't taken because I'm in a hard STEM major and don't have much time for electives, which means that I have to be really picky with my electives and only go for stuff I like AND doesn't have an awful workload) and also even if I did have that prereq, I wouldn't be able to take the class because it's at the same time as one of my major reqs. And also I'll be in two labs next semester and one of them is pure hell so like I literally don't have the time to take more than 13 credit hours (as tempting as it is to keep up my streak of taking 17-18 every semester even though it's been like really pretty bad for my social life and hobbies). Sigh. (Pressing my hand wistfully against the glass) maybe someday they'll offer the class again

[radio-4-is-static]

25コ目の染色体 | RADWIMPS

忘れてた泣き方 でも 今ここにある何か 目を閉じても零れそうな気がして

I will die for you, and I will live for you I will die for you, there is nothing more that I could really say to you

[a-shadowedvales]

LETS TALK ABOUT BECKY IVES FOR A MINUTE!

when you think about becky, you have to remember that she spent at least four years listening to terry’s “crazy theories” about hawkins lab, and the big bad man taking jane away. she knew terry took part in “hippie crap” and assumed that messed with her head. that those experiences combined with miscarrying in the third trimester had a terrible strain on her mental health, ultimately losing her connection to reality. she spent those years watching terry fight and lose legal battles against brenner and hawkins. she pleaded for her to stop, to get help, as their relationship grew stressed and strained because becky didn’t believe her, and terry hated her for it.

and then when terry’s mind was completely broken, she spent her days and nights caring for her. the show never touched on this. just what did becky think happened to terry? what story was she told? was terry put into a random hospital with doctors from hawkins lab, under a guise of caring for her, just to tell becky there was some kind of accident? maybe a car accident. did they claim the drugs used in the mk ultra testing from all those years ago took affect on her mind? probably not, because then becky would be in an opportunity to sue. i highly doubt there would have been any mention of the lab, opposed to some, "unfortunate accident." it really bugs me that there’s no story about what becky believed made terry catatonic. terry knew becky didn’t believe her, and as such, definitely did not tell her about her plans to break into the lab. so a story could have easily been concocted.

and then, one random day, a kid shows up at her doorstep, claiming to be the daughter she didn’t believe existed. immediately, by jane opening the door with her mind, becky held some kind of belief for she'd heard terry’s rants about her baby being used for experiments, experiments which gave her powers. and in comes jane, demanding to see her mother, able to open a locked door, blood dripping from her nose. all too soon she realises that there has so be some semblance of truth. the girl says her name is jane: she fits all the descriptions. the descriptions of the niece she never had. this child who her sister fought tooth and nail to get back. i can’t even imagine the guilt that would begin to fester for not believing terry, for thinking she was having a mental break, for trying to get her to see therapists and get her some real, serious help.

scared and confused for herself and her sister, and unable to fathom what is happening, what does she do? she comforts jane. there is distance, there’s awkwardness, but this girl is her blood and every moment that passed only proved that she could actually be jane ives. she makes her a sandwich, tries to comfort her, tells her that her mother is in a dream. probably a good dream. she comforts and tells her that terry never stopped believing.

she always believed you were out there. she always believed you’d come home one day. home? yeah, home.

she offered her, this strange little girl, a place in her home with her and her mother. she didn’t push, she didn’t need to know everything in that moment; she focused on jane and nothing else. the girl was obviously traumatised judging by the way she spoke, the way she sheltered herself. if everything terry claimed was indeed true, then becky couldn’t even begin to think about what she’d gone through.

i wanna help you, but to really do that, i need you to talk to me, okay? it doesn’t have to be now. it doesn’t have to be today. when you’re ready, okay?

she never moved a single thing in jane’s room. although she didn’t believe terry, she respected and loved her enough to keep it exactly as she’d planned. and at least she could give jane that, the vision her mother had for her, what the first steps of their wonderful life would have been like. becky claimed terry was “stuck” living the “same dream” over and over. where becky, too, was the one who was stuck. terry became 24/7 care, and unless she had helpers (which i highly doubt), becky would have given up her job, her out of home hobbies, her entire life to care for her sister. stuck in an endless routine until jane came along and struck her with the reality of it all.

as soon as jane contacts the void, you can see becky looks on edge and nervous. which, fair enough! she asks if she can sit and watch, but doesn’t interfere or distract jane. she even sits a little further away from her, perhaps out of fear (which would be completely justified. this girl physically moved things with her mind, who knows what else she can do) or just trying to take this all in within her own time and space. but the moment, the second jane departs the void and is in a state of distress, she moves to comfort her. she isn’t sure how, and doesn’t expect it to be returned, but offers it nonetheless. as far as she knows jane just spoke to her sister; she would be dying to know what happened, if she said anything. but remains silent and focuses on the child.

unfortunately we really don’t see much else of their dynamic on screen, but it is very justified that becky contacted hawkins and tried to get a hold of hopper. he and joyce were the only ones who seemed to have some kind of understanding; of course she would want to contact them. she put on a brave face in front of jane, focused on her and her needs. but as soon as she put the bed down and jane wanted some time alone in her room, becky had a moment to breathe. to think about her, her sister, all those wasted years because she didn’t believe. so, weeks later, when she gets a phone call from a weak sounding girl, saying she was sorry, the relief is immense. when recovered from her illness after closing the gate, the first thing jane wanted to do was call her aunt. hopper got on the line after the initial apology and asked if becky would come to hawkins, so they could work things out from there.

i just think becky is such a neat, complex character for the literal twenty minutes (probably less) screen time she gets. i adore the way she treats jane, and think she is such a good influence in her life. imagine all the stories becky could tell her about terry. things no one else could. her relationship with her aunt is one like no other, for both the sake of her mother, and that she is the only true family she has ever known, or as far as she knows, even has. becky never expects anything from jane (unlike a lot of the people in her life), and in that respect, jane does actually open up to her overtime. to becky, jane isn’t a girl who’s saved the world a few times. she’s the niece she didn’t believe in, and would spend the rest of her life making it up to her and terry.

[talkorsomething]

want to cut my hair again like you wouldn't believe. What are the possible consequences of going bald

[floral-hex]

ok today’s the day. last day to move boxes to the new apartment. heavy heavy boxes up stairs. gonna take every pill I got, gonna go hard with the caffeine, gonna have to stop for crybaby breaks every 20 minutes. I got this. I can do it. I’m gonna fail. Everyone will hate me. Let’s rock.

[isthehorsevideocute]

If I see one more walk/trot adult ammy fly around the country/go overseas to go horse shopping I'm going to have a fucking aneurysm.....