#what absolute bullshit

[isnt-that-wizardd]

netflix is the worst and i am greatly upset and i know that you all are too, so have this cute little thing i wrote a while back and finished this morning to help cheer you up

just a sweet little moment between the boys while their not on a case <3

crossposted to ao3 here

-------

For the Rest of Our Afterlives

When Edwin turned to look at Charles, the other was already looking at him, a smile playing on his lips. 

Edwin furrowed his brow. 

"What?" he questioned, shifting in his desk chair, sitting up a little straighter. But Charles just smiled wider in response, scooching from his usual spot on the edge of the desk so he was closer to Edwin. 

Edwin swallowed as Charles leaned in, that ridiculous, gorgeous smile getting closer to him. Edwin bit his lip, trying to hide his own smile that was growing to match. 

"Stop that," he mumbled. 

Charles had one hand resting on the opposite side of the desk from where he was sitting, supporting himself as he was now leaned so far into Edwin's space their faces were only inches apart. Charles only raised an expectant eyebrow in response to Edwin's weak, non-committal protest, fully aware of the way Edwin so easily melted under that gaze of his. Fully aware of how convincing his smile truly was.

"I cannot stand you," Edwin claimed, even as he leaned in as well, letting his smile show. Charles let out a laugh, and the last thing Edwin saw was Charles smug look before he gave in, closing his eyes as he pressed their lips together. He could feel the way Charles was smiling against his mouth, struggling to maintain the kiss. Still, as it always was, it was perfect to Edwin. 

"Can't stand me, then?" Charles teased when they separated again, using his free hand to brush some strands of hair off Edwin's forehead. 

When the two of them pulled apart, Charles smug look had been replaced with something so much softer, fonder. It was a look Edwin knew would have had his heart beating out of his chest were he still alive. One he still couldn't quite believe was directed at him- couldn't believe that Charles was giving him. Yet here they were, sat in the office of their detective agency, and Charles Rowland, his dearest friend and most important person in the world to him, was looking at him with more love in his eyes than Edwin could ever know what to do with. Instead, he simply leaned forward again, stealing another short, sweet kiss from his partner's lips. 

"Correct," Edwin claimed through another kiss, smiling as Charles bumped their noses together. 

"See, I'm thinking something different, yeah?" 

The smug look was coming back, but Edwin couldn't bring himself to be bothered by it, resting his hand on the arm Charles had supporting himself, playing with the bracelets on his wrist and relishing in the way Charles shivered at the feeling of Edwin's fingertips lightly tracing over his skin. 

"And what would that be, Detective Rowland?" 

Charles turned his hand over, clasping his with Edwin's as he sat straight up again to prevent himself from falling over. Perhaps instinctually, Edwin rolled his chair ever so slightly to follow Charles' movement, staying right in the other boy's orbit.

"I think," Charles began with a smirk, raising Edwin's hand to press a kiss to his knuckles, "that you like me." 

Edwin pursed his lips in effort to hide his smile. "Now I have no idea where you may have ever gotten an impression like that." 

"Yeah?" Charles asked smugly.

Edwin hummed, "Truly. Can't stand the sight of you. Leave now, before I. . ."

Whatever he'd planned to end his sentence with-  some empty threat that probably would have had Charles laughing- was lost to the universe as Charles kissed his knuckles again, his palms cradling Edwin's hand so gently, so reverently. He touched and looked at Edwin as though there was nothing more important in the world.

"Before what?" Charles prompted, his voice low and sweet as he hold Edwin's hand to him, tucking their joint palms against his chest, right where his heart would've beat. 

"Before I. . ." Edwin sighed out, an end to his threat still lost somewhere, escaping him. Truly, only Charles Rowland could make him lose his words, his every thought. Edwin stood from his chair, moving closer as Charles instinctively shifted his legs to allow Edwin to step into the space between them. 

"Before I fall in love with you, and remain that way for the course of the rest of our afterlives - for forever." 

The joy that shone on Charles' face was unmatchable. It seeped from his skin, bones, and very soul, filling the room around them and engulfing Edwin. He'd do anything to keep that look on Charles forever.

"Bit late for that, innit?" Charles inquired softly, still playing along with their little game. "I seem to remember something about some stairs."

Edwin huffed out a laugh. 

"Right. Well, then, I suppose it is already too late. You have bewitched me body and soul."

Charles had always, for as long as they'd known each other, loved listening to Edwin read to him. Nearly anything they could get their hands on. Jane Austen had always been a favorite of Charles, though he knows the boy would never admit it. Recently, Niko had shown them the films based off of her works - Charles had loved those just as much.

"And I love, I love, I love you," Charles finished happily, and Edwin gave a pleased hum.

"I love you, my dear Charles. . . Even when you do distract me from my work." 

A laugh burst from Charles as he gave a squeeze to Edwin's hand.

"Pretty sure looking into the magical properties and medicinal effects of. . . whatever plant it was can wait."

"Crystal wanted-"

"Crystal was asking an open question just out of curiosity. You're the one turning it into a research project."

Edwin frowned for a moment, looking down at the books on his desk. 

"Hey," Charles interrupted any thoughts jumping to his mind, squeezing his hand again."I'm not saying don't do it. It's properly sweet of you and she'll appreciate it. I'm just saying, maybe Crystal doesn't need an answer today, yeah?" 

Edwin hummed, "I do suppose you're right."

Charles let out a pleased sound, "I usually am, mate."

Edwin didn't bother even responding to that.

"Now come on. I wanna lay on the sofa and love you for the course of the rest of our afterlives."

Edwin let out a laugh, allowing himself to be pulled away from his desk and towards the little sofa in their office. Charles truly was right - when he had the love of his afterlife looking at him like that, everything else could wait.

[castametric]

brownies punish you for your hubris more than any other baked good ever could

[peppermintfables]

The human brain is so stupid. Had a mild breakdown over a uni problem and just couldnt get to the answer, no matter what I tried, then simply remembered that I am capable of solving problems and found the answer almost instantly

[itstimeforstarwars]

I hate knowing how to sew. I hate that knowing how to sew compels me to fix my own clothes when their shoddy construction destroys them cuz I don't wanna spend another fuckin thirty dollars to replace it when I have $1 of thread. Mending is the worst and it's 90% of the sewing I do these days.

[frownyalfred]

Green Lanterns canonically having green eyes because of prolonged exposure to their ring’s power is SO funny to me because the ring is 100% snitching on you but only another Lantern would know to call you on it.

[thehelltingvilleclub]

bill pleasepleasepleaseeeee let me treat you nicely im BEGGING to hold you 😞😞

"But... uh... thanks? Now can I fuckin' go back to bed, you freak?"

With enough convincing (aka wiggling under his arms despite his protesting) he'd let you stay while he napped his hangover away. Just don't wake him up and you won't face the wrath of Tsar Dickey.

and uh... don't mind the drool. or the mumbling.

you asked for this.

[s0fter-sin]

nik finding out ghost’s father is still alive

he teases out personal information from him over years of careful dedication; always knowing when to back off, always knowing when ghost needs him to push just that little more so he can free himself of his own memories

it’s not always important; sometimes it’s little things like preferring full fat milk for his tea or that he enjoys morning runs with his back to the sunrise. that he prefers to sit in an armchair than a couch and he hates the feel of cotton balls but endures it anyway

it takes a while before he gets to the deep things. the tragic things. broken plates. snake infested beds. dead prostitutes in toilet stalls

all with one man at the centre of them

ghost isn’t shy about his opinion of his old man; he knew he was a cowardly, addicted bastard who stood up for what he believed in only so long as the person he was standing against was weaker than him. he tells nik how close he came to killing him one night when he found him passed out on the couch; foaming spit and vomit all around him. he tells him how much he wished he knew then what he knows now; how he could’ve killed him with a toothpick if he just learned earlier

and he tells him that even unconscious, even when grew bigger than him, when he was stronger than him, ghost was still too afraid of him to try

he tells him around a shared cigarette that he got the call about his cancer just after he enlisted; how bitter he felt that he wouldn’t be around to watch him suffer and wither away. and it’s with a sour laugh that he tells him it was a few years after his first deployment that he got the call that he was in remission

“bastard couldn’t even give me that much,” he scoffs and stares at the smouldering butt long enough that nik takes it from him before he can snuff it out on his skin. “know the funny part of all this? i’ve killed hundreds of men. i know how to use more weapons than i can count- i’m the fuckin’ ghost…

“and i’m still fuckin’ scared of him.”

silence falls and nik sits in it; in the cruelty and discomfort of a man’s fear. he thinks of an old wooden home with its little chapel at the end of the yard. he thinks of silent dinner tables and repeated prayers over the crack of a belt. he thinks of the weight of a bible clutched in his hands and how it never eased the heat of his blood dripping down his back

he thinks and lights another cigarette and pretends ghost’s hand isn’t shaking when he offers it to him. because that’s all he can do

for now

-

months pass and nik does ghost a favour by acting like he’s forgotten their conversation on the roof despite them both knowing it’s bullshit. you don’t just forget sharing something like that; the shame of admitting and the hatred of knowing are too strong for something as merciful as forgetting

but they don’t talk about it again

months pass, missions blur together except for the ones that really don’t and it’s been a while since nik was in country when he slides up beside ghost as he oversees recruit training

he doesn’t say anything; just lets ghost feel his presence, conveniently from behind so he can slip something in his hands held behind his back before he steps up beside him. they watch the repetitive drills and the repetitive mistakes until ghost barks at them to fuck off or he’ll make them run until they puke then make them keep running

he waits for the last of them to huff and puff their way to the showers before bringing his hands to the front and unfolding the paper nik gave him

he doesn’t get past the first line before he stills

ghost forces his head to turn, eyes reluctantly dragging away from the paper to nik who stands waiting expectantly

“a gift,” nik says simply. “it does not bode well to have a haunted ghost, yes?”

he doesn’t let himself deflate the way his body wants; he keeps his back straight and shoulders wide and lets out a carefully controlled breath. “it last long?”

“oh yes,” he nods with a wide smile. “hell received quite a few pieces.”

ghost nods back and looks down at the paper in his hand, refusing to acknowledge the fine shake running through it. it isn’t enough to blur the cutout from a manchester local newspaper and reading it again makes his knees weak with 30 year old relief

missing: norman riley

[egophiliac]

I'm trying to avoid getting spoiled so I haven't looked up what's happening in the Jp server's main story, but for my own sanity I need to ask; is the story at a point where we know whether Lilia will get better/survive his almost-empty magic reserves..? Was it a true death flag from the start or only a plot device for malleus' overblot....?

not yet! I do think they're going to get back to it eventually, but -- keeping it as low spoilers as possible -- there's been...let's just say a LOT going on in the meantime.

enjoy 7-6!!! :)

[slutforpringles]

Yeah, it was a strange one the way it played out. To be honest, the more I've spoken to some of the parties involved and the more has kind of emerged, the less clear it's got actually how it's been handled, which I'd like to say is unusual in Formula One. Maybe it's not because people don't always act in F1 with their true intentions upfront. But I think the way you described it as [Daniel] processing it in real time and learning it at the same time as us, I think it's pretty much how it happened. The key thing was that Ricciardo was aware that something was going on. He's not immune to speculation. He tries not to engage with it too much, but obviously either he or the people around him are feeding him the main things. He knew that there was a deadline approaching for a decision, which primarily he thought was all about 2025. The main thing that changed was going into the Singapore weekend, the speculation had intensified that it could be about right now, a change right now. But when they went into the Singapore weekend, I know there's been a few reports and claims and counter claims around this, Helmut Marko, for example, has said that Riccardo did know because Lawson had known for two weeks already. But I don't think that's true. Bear in mind, Marko has been saying at various points this year that it could be Ricciardo's last race … I was on the phone to someone close to Riccardo last week and he joked that 'we've been sacked since April, so this hasn't really come out of the blue', that's what they've been dealing with. But I think what happened was that Ricciardo took control of the narrative over the course of the Singapore weekend. As far as I can understand, the best I can make out, nobody told Riccardo explicitly, this is your last race, we will be replacing you after this. He knew that there was a very, very good chance, probably 99% chance he was losing his drive for Lawson for the following year. And then there started to be more and more noise about it being a change for now. But he had been told during the summer break that he was good for the rest of the season, basically. So I think he was reacting to the speculation. Nobody gave him an absolutely explicit, this is 100% done and we are going to confirm that Lawson's in and you're out. So Riccardo went into the Singapore weekend saying everything he said on the Thursday, which was, you know, I wouldn't bet my house on being here at the end of the year, but that's what I expect. As far as he was aware, it was all about 25, nothing else, blah, blah, blah. But then through the weekend, you saw that change. You know, he was kind of as you said, processing it, the speculation was more intense than ever. Some of the broadcast, like the Sky Sports F1 stuff was very much laying it on thick that they understood this was his last race, etc etc. And I think Riccardo just rolled with that and just went right, Red Bull aren't going to do anything here, they're not actually going to make this official. I need to act like this is my last race weekend because I think this is going to be my last race weekend. And if I don't do it, no one's going to do it for me, which is a really sad way for it to have played out, but it just speaks to how confusing this whole mess has been.

Scott Mitchell Malm discussing how Daniel's Singapore exit was handled by Red Bull and the subsequent false media narratives that have since emerged from various players involved.

via: The Ringer F1 Show

[my-hyperfixations]

Me after seeing Dazai and Chuuya find Fyodor’s dummy:

[peachphernalia]

artists that chonny jash would never cover for 500 . also that guy is really good at dying in power hours i think (compliment) (silly) (joke) (compliment)

desaturated this final version a lot for the Flower Face Vibes but i got sad about it messing my colors up a little so full saturation version of just his lovely face . his Flower Face you could even say

[virgothozul]

I don’t talk nearly enough about part5 and Mista. He’s my comfy dummy, bless this lil silly man. (wdym we’re talking about a mafia dude who does t0rtur3 and mur43r for a living)

[steviewashere]

cw: food and fatphobia

Just saw the words: "am I promoting a big-back lifestyle?" in a fucking recipe video.

BIG BACK?! JUST SAY FAT YOU PIECE OF SHIT! AND....WHAT?!!! PROMOTING A "BIG-BACK" LIFESTYLE???? YOU MEAN PROMOTING A LIFESTYLE WHERE PEOPLE ENJOY LITTLE TREATS EVERY NOW AND THEN????

YOU'RE MAKING BROWNIES! YOUR STUPID INFLUENCER CAREER IS BASED AROUND MAKING FOOD AND SHARING RECIPES! SO SHUT UP!!!

IT'S NOT A BAD THING TO BE FAT! OR TO HAVE A BROWNIE EVERY NOW AND THEN! OH MY GOD! IF YOU DON'T INDULGE, THEN WHAT ARE YOU LIVING FOR?! IF YOU DON'T ALLOW YOURSELF SOME MINOR SIMPLE PLEASURES, ARE YOU EVEN ENJOYING YOURSELF?!

JUST MAKE A DAMN BROWNIE, ENJOY THE BITES YOU TAKE OF IT, AND MOVE ON WITH YOUR DAY!

YOU DON'T HAVE TO FAT SHAME PEOPLE FOR WANTING TO EAT A BROWNIE! AND YOU DON'T HAVE TO REFER TO FAT PEOPLE AS BIG-BACKED.

I'M SO FUCKING SICK AND TIRED OF FAT SHAMING COMING BACK AS THIS COMMON THING. FAT PEOPLE WERE ALLOWED TO BE ONLINE FOR LIKE TWO YEARS AND THEN EVERYBODY GOT TIRED OF IT. I'M SO SICK OF IT.

CHRIST.

[halfbaked00q]

Im soooo weak to when Bond is like casually being used or exploited at his expense for some ostensible Greater Good except the situation doesn't HAVE to come to that, not really, and he's so inured and even numb to it that he barely pays it any mind; meanwhile, Q absolutely minds and is very indignant on his behalf and works overtime to like either try to avert or forestall the situation before it gets to the point where Bond has to dig his own claws into more of his soft underbelly to offer up on the sacrificial alter of politics of all tawdry things, or to manufacture a way in which he does the needless "needful" so as to spare Bond at least one unnecessary additional wound upon his psyche.

bonus if Bond finds out and maybe after being angry or indignant about it - I don't need you to do my job for me, Q, this is what I'm here to do - and either Q tells him/lets slip or he deduces that like, this isn't Q thinking he can't get the job done, this is Q finding him precious and worthy of protecting, and like. he's just very in awe of that and does in fact feel very safe and cherished within the cradle of his Quartermaster's regard

[demadogs]

some of you need to hate ai way more than you currently do

[luchael]

So I saw a bunch of romance videos for Fenris on YouTube and since then I wanted to actually not pick the most popular flirty option on our first visit because I felt it was too sudden and coming a bit strong for my tastes of how I arguably projected myself onto Hawke in the limits of the game’s narrative. So getting the chance to actually play myself for the first time I chose to say stuff I cared for and oh my god if Fenris didn’t just open up like the most beautiful blooming flower. So gentle and fragile. His soft smile while complimenting Hawke implied him (I play Garrett) being worthy and fearless in contrast to Danarius’s usual guests, the way he cautiously tested the waters by saying he doesn’t want to bother Hawke with his sob stories, the way he softly chuckles and that line about practicing flattery for our next visit? Did you hear what I did in his intonation there? It totally was meant as a question! That was an invitation and a plea to come back again and spend more time together! Maker’s breath if he isn’t the most precious thing in the world! He’s so lonely and starved for connection and you say Anders is the only one who jumps you after you have shown him kindness? Fenris is also a hopeless romantic, he’s just too good at keeping his veneer of calm. It felt like I was watching the most beautiful pearl oyster opening by just softly listening to the waves! But then if you touch a little bit too close to the trauma asking how young he was when the tragedy happened he shuts down immediately. Oof. I want to gently hold him in the palms of my hands and take him home to Ferelden immediately! I heard people say that his is a story of getting rid of the shackles but still binding himself by their invisible force but the soft spoken longing when asking about your home makes me wonder if his trauma could be healed in another way as well. He didn’t sound rabid or as ready to pursue his enemies to the ends of the universe. He just wanted a home, a friend and a loved one. To live a little. And that is the most poignant tragedy.