#I JUST LOVE THE METAPHOR

[feelingthedisaster]

kevin changing his tatoo from a 2 to a queen is incredible in meaning. like a two is second best, the one behind, the shadow, however in chess, the queen is the two, not the most important but the best piece. when the king (riko, its literally in the book title) who is basically useless, dies, the game ends (wow, just like the series), but the without the queen, well, you cant win without her, she can move in multiple directions (just like kevin playing with both hands), making her the deadliest piece of the game (if you can play her well and in cordination with the other pieces)

[jelzorz]

163a.

Opeli has been High Cleric since she was twenty-one.

She is forty-two now and still High Cleric, which means she's been performing the ceremonies at Temple Hill for half her lifetime, and that is a long time to be doing anything, so she supposes it's fair that being up before dawn has become part of her routine. She rises with the shift change of the guards on duty and then heads down to the kitchens for a cup of tea and some breakfast, alone, usually, because no one else is awake unless they have to be, and even Barius doesn't fire up the ovens until the sky begins to light. Then she makes her way to the temples by torchlight, again, alone, in time to witness the sunrise and the city rousing the way Lady Justice waits for the Sun.

It's part of the story: the Sun greets the world too brightly, too early, except for Justice who is blind anyway and welcomes the warmth on her face. Opeli has always liked the thought, the sentiment of the journey through the dark, the symbolism of catching the sun's first rays at the temple at the peak of the hill. It's lonely, but it's beautiful, and it has been her ritual for long enough now that she hardly notices the solitude. The other clerics join her soon enough, and then she heads back to the castle for her other duties and it's all clutter and chaos anyway, so the peace is something she has grown to cherish.

Then there is Soren.

She doesn't mind. He's twenty-seven now and he's grown a lot over the years—and it's nice to have company every once in a while. The first time, it was because he'd woken from a nightmare and had cut his hand open on a broken vase in his panic. He'd stayed for tea after she'd cleaned and dressed it for him and she'd found the conversation so enjoyable that she was almost late to the temple that morning. The time after that, he'd just come off the night shift—someone was sick, he said, and he'd covered for them even if, as Captain, there were others he could have called upon to do it. These days, he joins her for tea more often than he doesn't—and she's starting to notice when he doesn't.

It's a strange feeling. She has not had a reason to miss anyone for years, and yet, on the mornings she has tea alone, she finds that she makes too much. Soren's presence in the kitchens these early mornings has become something of a comfort, and there's something in the conversation, in the way that he smiles that feels just as warm as the first light of the sun.

Opeli does not tell anyone about this. She knows how it sounds. How inappropriate it is. How foolish she is for allowing it to happen. She knows where it's going and what will happen if she doesn't put an end to it, and she knows how much she's relying on him to tire of her because she is not strong enough to end it herself.

Still, she lets herself miss him, lets him linger as she packs the away the tea, lets him walk her to the door before she sets off for the temple.

Then, one morning, he beats her to it. She arrives in the kitchens to find the tea already brewed and Soren already in his usual stool, bleary-eyed but cheerful, eyes warm over the rim of his mug. "High Cleric," he greets her. "You're late."

"Captain," she says, lips twitching. "You're early. What's your excuse for being here before sunrise this time?"

He smirks at her, cocky, charming, but his eyes dart away like he's afraid of the answer. "We're heading off soon," he says. For Duren, Opeli remembers. Ezran has a meeting with Queen Aanya, and they'll need to go before dawn if they're to be there before dinner. "Wanted some tea for the road."

I wanted to see you, he doesn't say, but Opeli hears it anyway, in the silence around them and in the tone of his voice.

She glances at her hands, the warmth in her cheeks hidden cleverly by the way the hood falls around her face. "How long will you be gone?" she asks.

Soren shrugs. "About a week. Hopefully less."

"Not so long, then."

"Too long without a decent cup of this stuff." He raises his mug and slurps it noisily to fill the pause. "How am I supposed to manage without it?"

Opeli chuckles. "It will be here when you get back."

"It won't be over there."

"I suppose that's true." Opeli presses her lips together. The metaphor hangs heavily in the air. In the end, he slides her already-steaming mug over the bench to her and she smiles her thanks as she climbs into the stool. "You know what the stories say, though," she says after a moment. "Lady Justice waits for the Sun."

He laughs a little at that. "So she does."

Opeli offers him a smile from behind her mug. "So she always will."

[foldingfittedsheets]

Costco has these artisanal peaches. My betrothed and I first had them while staying with some friends. They’re the platonic ideal of what an amazing peach should be. They’re peeled and preserved in juice whole, and somehow they taste slightly like vanilla.

When we got home from our visit we picked up a jar for ourselves. They lasted a good long while. We finally went to get more- and they were gone. I was devastated. That was two years ago.

Every Costco trip since then has included a hopeful look for the amazing peaches. I never stopped dreaming they’d come back.

My health has gotten better and with my improved energy I’ve finally been able to take over some of the chores. So when my betrothed lamented not having time for a Costco trip last week I volunteered to go alone.

I was meandering down the aisle and then I saw them. The peaches. The promised fruit I had been denied for two years, perfect and golden in that Costco aisle. Orchestral music swelled in my mind and everything around me faded away as I beelined toward them.

I was stricken with peach madness. I got four jars. Sitting in the car afterward I tallied the expense. The peaches were fully a quarter of the Costco bill. I texted my betrothed to apologize for absolutely losing my head. They reassured me over and over that it was a luxury I deserved to indulge and that it was okay.

Tonight while holding a dripping perfect peach in my hands, eating it while standing over the counter, each bite the exact ripeness to have a little give but not too much, and my mouth full of vanilla and peaches I contemplated going to buy more.

[inkskinned]

something bad happened to you, and you died, and you came back wrong.

not wrong all the way. the little ways. you forget important dates, stopped going out with friends. it's harder to make you smile. you're apathetic towards things you used to love, afraid of places you used to go to cheer up. quieter. flinching. different.

you came back for love. you're still here for love. what pulled you back was a brightness so loud that even death couldn't outshout it. death heard the call and smiled at you and said okay. go home. somebody is waiting for you.

but you came back different. like lot's wife; you've turned into salt. you used to chirp through life in hops and skips; but now you lose skin just standing up. you have to move slower, skimming across this world without-touching-it. most things feel dull - until they're suddenly all-too-much. life, and being alive just rushes up and over you and you get hopelessly crushed.

you try to explain it to them: it is ugly, but this is what you are, now. the huge golden hoop of your halo now a little bronze ring. you are still watering your plants and wearing the same clothes. after all, you worked hard to come home. this life; so odd and off-color, now that you are wrong.

but they waited for you - it's just that they wanted the "you" that happened before this. the "you" that could sing in the show and hug people tight and look at a blade without breaking down to cry. the you with a smile in pictures. god, holyshit, it's like looking at a completely different person, isn't it. that other-you; the one they actually wanted.

you are the consolation prize. you are the body that forgot the ghost. you are the memory of the bad thing, and the death after; like you are wearing that memory as a banner. you are a fragment, an assembly. simulacrum. you don't make eye contact in mirrors, afraid the light will glance off and your true nature will flash back at you.

you hear them talk about it in their hushed, desperate whispers. sometimes they even admit it to your face; harsh and violent, acid thrown at christmas dinner. god, can you just fucking be normal again. you do not remember what normal is. you had to climb so far to get back here; you are far too exhausted. you want to open the glass door of your heart and show all the gears. can you help resolve whatever got messed up?

you try so, so hard. you came back for them. because you believed they would love you, even when you were so horribly broken. because you believed they would be patient. because you believed unconditional meant "without exception." you cannot do things the same way. you just get tired too quickly these days.

you want to put them on a couch and pour them the tea with hands that shake more than they remember. you want to line them up and draw them a map of where you have had to wander. you want to show every bruise in a backsplash; the little helpless ant of your soul carrying all that weight, over and over. you want to say: yes! it is different! but i did it for love!

you want to say: "i'm not the same, but i'm yours and i'm here. can that be enough?"

[medicalunprofessional]

sorry guys they finally showed me peak fiction . Its called “phantom of the paradise”

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I ABSOLUTELY ADORE YOUR SQQ HE LOOKS SO FUCKINH DONE WITH LIFE

The recipe for SQQ is: calm on the outside, screaming on the inside.

[nerdyqueerr]

The Amazing Devil truly knocked it out of the park with Fair in terms of love songs i mean its got everything. Domesticity, deep adoration, confessions of love when youre sure no one else can hear, a that's what she said joke, yogurt, genuinely dont think there's a more romantic song on the face of the earth

[metanarrates]

new shifting mound dialogue... she's so real for this one

[bluegiragi]

sometimes ghost just needs to block out everything that isn't johnny.

[adriancatrin]

soulmark au sketches. the idea of sokka in proven ‘soulmates are real’ universes consistently intrigues me—how would that impact his skepticism/interpretation of fate/destiny/free will? personally i think he’d be very angry for a very long time and probably not even understand why

[beaulesbian]

After my son left it behind, Derek towed it in, thinking it was probably beyond repair. But then he opened up the hood and he pulled off all the duck tape Stiles had stuck on it. And he managed to fix it. That Jeep, no matter what’s been done to it, it just keeps running. He could never figure out why it wouldn’t break down and stay down.

And I don’t think he ever realized that that’s exactly the way we saw him. I have never seen anyone take that kind of punishment that Derek Hale took, and kept taking, in order to protect the people he loved.

[bidokja]

the way orv beats you over the head with "you can never fully know a story, you can only ever interpret it, this being true doesn't make your love for the story any less real. through communication and interconnection we can grow our understanding of a story. this also applies to yourself." and then hits you with the combo of "now replace Story with Person" and knocks you out cold

[codgod]

dance of the moonlight jellies

aka drew a scene from my own fanfic yippeee

[momhowell]

not to be delirious but there's something about dnp deciding to show us the other half of the kitchen/dining room at the same time as this post-slime vibe shift...like they're letting us see what they've built together both literally (the house they build) and metaphorically (the relationship they built), but this time on their own terms

what i'm saying is the strip-tease phouse reveal is a metaphor

[faithblob-says-things]

Dp x Dc prompt 2

Danny gets punted into the Dc universe somehow and loses his memories along the way. Team Phantom and maybe some of his rouge gallery are currently scrambling to find him.

Meanwhile Ma and Pa Kent are very happy to have another son that fell from the sky.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

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