#when the prettiest being would be there

[magica124]

PLEASE SOMEONE TELL MY MOTHER THAT I AM GOING TO ISKCON TO STARE AT KRISHNA NOT OTHER MENN

[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.

[dapper-lil-arts]

had a hilarious thought on my hormones doctor appointment

[hermesmoly]

Oenone as a character deserved her own Medea ending, she deserves better than to die for the coward who abandoned her

[musubiki]

lately ive been thinking about the contrast going on in Early Lime where hes like "tbh im pretty sure i could have any girl i wanted including mochi i mean i guess if she wanted we could give it a shot one day but i dont really care lol" and then very easily becoming completely unhinged for her the second he gets a tinge of romantic affection

[paint-it-dead]

berserk is just a self insert 1 direction wattapad fanfiction...

[arthur-lesters-spinal-cord]

Rip Noel you were just too pretty and Kayne couldn’t deal with the competition

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

yuuji manages to find the guts to hold megumi’s hand once and not more than 5 seconds later he gets the shovel talk from 90% of the people in megumi’s life. they truly mean their words that if yuuji ever makes megumi feel bad even by mistake, the higher ups r going to be the least of his problems. the same goes for sukuna.

the other 10% of people r frantically trying to book an immediate flight back to japan after his toes started tingling that something was up with His Boy.

just as yuuji thinks he managed the worst, he feels the hair on the back of his neck stand up and narrowly dodges assassination attempt courtesy of the zenin

The thing is that Megumi is actually such a low maintenance, chill boyfriend. Best boyfriend ever. He always replies to texts quickly. He’s on time to dates. He’s never jealous. They rarely fight, and when they do, it’s always because it’s legitimately important, and they always end up working it out. He lets Yuuji hold(!) his hand(!). The tips of his ears turn fire engine red whenever Yuuji does anything that shows off how Strong and Fast he is, which can be fun for Yuuji. It’s not a competition but also yes it is and Yuuji won it. He locked down The Best Boyfriend Ever. And it only took him 83 days of hardcore crushing, a 27 step plan, and nearly throwing himself off a cliff because he said “hooray” when Megumi told Yuuji he liked him.

He’s Done It. He Secured The Bag. Megumi Is His Boyfriend And The World Is A Perfect Place.

But everyone else seems to have some very strong opinions about that fact. Much stronger opinions than Megumi himself, who lets Yuuji hold(!) his hand(!).

There's a very confusing conversation with Inumaki and Panda about his intentions. Yuuji, very honestly, said that he didn't think he'd get far enough to have any real intentions past what he's already managed, which did not help. Maki had a similar conversation but it involved a sword. God's Perfect Man Who Already Gets Everything He Wants In Life And Certainly Doesn't Need to Butt Into This Too may be returning early from Africa. Yuuji would much rather that Africa keep him, please and thank you. There's a sniper that has him in his sights.

It's worth it.

[longagoitwastuesday]

Kusakabe, dear, you're too beautiful to be saying that kind of stuff

[transgirltrish]

.

[sexynetra]

Olivia Lux is collecting selfies with my favorite queens tonight like they’re fucking infinity stones

[bhaalsdeepbat]

Keep thinking about the .00001% chance my Durge has a kid, and how impossible the circumstances would have to be, but also how both posh and feral a child raised by Durge and Astarion would be 😭

Like this baby is so good at using their baby charms to get everything they want but sometimes it's ridiculous shit like. You have this super spoiled child who is kind of a brat sometimes, but secretly a huge softy and is actually VERY well behaved for their parents & extended family...for the most part.

Sometimes a feral streak will hit them and they'll get the combination Dhampir/Bhaalspawn Zoomies. They're running around yelling about paving a path in corpses, Astarion is moving at top Vamp speed to keep up, Storm Sorc Durge flying over every which way trying to prevent shit from breaking/falling. But this is still just a child so at a certain point they overdo it and Astarion & Durge just fucking find them passed out with some squirrels they drained then slaughtered.

But also imagine the hunger this poor child would experience. Like they're the creation of two people with nearly uncontrollable appetites. The "Pets or food?" Dichotomy to an extreme. Living beings are literally their life source and their offering to the God whispering violence in their ear day in & day out. Cus you know Bhaal would be giving that little Bhaalspawn Special Attention. Cus he's petty af.

Like it would be so tragic, but could be such a good "resisting hunger & urges" story to explore esp with having to live their lives with both bc Dhampir Bhaalspawn baby wouldn't have Withers to take Bhaal's blood from them

[emmafaeru]

one of the things that's insane to me about terraria is it's lack of online prescence. it's the 10th best selling video game of all time. there's like 3 people who make videos about it. it's been around for 13 years. there's not even 400 fics tagged as terraria on ao3. 45 million people have played it. there are maybe 4 pieces of fanart somwhere if you really dig for them. and the crazy part is I totally agree. I have never wanted to create about terraria. I have rarely if ever wanted to consume content about terraria. this is a game I have a disgusting amount of hours in and I would give a very high rating of and I have never once gone feral over it like I have with other things I consume. terraria is this ball of awesomeness of a game mixed with this complete fucking undecipherable void of a prescence and i think it's insane

[yoihino]

I see your 'Jax is an npc' theories and I raise you 'the one who actually is an npc is not Jax but Ragatha instead'. Because I think it being Jax is way too obvious (as we are only at the 2nd episode, if it was obvious at later in the season it would be understandable) and Ragatha would have much more impact on Pomni and everyone else on the cast than anyone else (drawing a parallel with Gumigoo, as well as Pomni not feeling so alone because of both of them).

[carolrain]

Bold all that applies to you

Thank you for tagging me @smblmn @ramonaflow @a-noble-dragon

APPEARANCE: i’m over 5’5” // i wear glasses/contacts // i have blonde hair // i prefer loose clothing to tight clothing// i have one or more piercings // i have at least one tattoo // i have blue eyes // i have dyed or highlighted my hair // i have gotten plastic surgery // i have or had braces // i sunburn easily // i have freckles // i paint my nails // i typically wear make-up // i don’t often smile // i am pleased with how i look // i prefer nike to adidas // i wear baseball hats backwards

HOBBIES AND TALENTS: i play a sport // i can play an instrument // i am artistic // i know more than one language // i have won a trophy in some sort of competition // i can cook or bake without a recipe // i know how to swim // i enjoy writing // i can do origami // i prefer movies to tv shows // i can execute a perfect somersault // i enjoy singing // i could survive in the wild on my own // i have read a new book series this year // i enjoy spending time with friends // i travel during school or work breaks (if i can afford it) // i can do a handstand

RELATIONSHIP: i am in a relationship // i have been single for over a year // i have a crush // i have a best friend i have known for ten years // my parents are together // i have dated my best friend // i am adopted // my crush has confessed to me // i have a long distance relationship // i am an only child // i give advice to my friends // i have made an online friend // i met up with someone i have met online

AESTHETICS: i have heard the ocean in a conch shell // i have watched the sun rise // i enjoy rainy days // i have slept under the stars // i meditate outside // the sound of chirping calms me // i enjoy the smell of the beach // i know what snow tastes like // i listen to music to fall asleep // i enjoy thunderstorms // i enjoy cloud watching // i have attended a bonfire // i pay close attention to colours // i find mystery in the ocean // i enjoy hiking on nature paths // autumn is my favourite season 🍂

MISCELLANEOUS: i can fall asleep in a moving vehicle // i am the mom friend // i live by a certain quote // i like the smell of sharpies // i am involved in extracurricular activities // i enjoy mexican food // i can drive a stick-shift // i believe in true love // i make up scenarios to fall asleep // i sing in the shower // i wish i lived in a video game // i have a canopy above my bed // i am multiracial // i am a redhead // i own at least three dogs

Tagging @mostlyinthemorning @flowertrigger @chelle-68 @trickiwooao3 @mammameesh @statueinthestone @demora00 @apothecarose @stargazer56 and also promising I'm gonna go work on that stupid poll result fic now.

[xumoonhao]

the day kpop companies realize not every group needs a rap line and when producers realize not all songs need a rap part is the day we will know peace. unfortunately, until then we will continue to suffer 🙏🏻