#Personal Space Style

[viapu-com]

End the mess with a touch of class! Transform your living space with these 20 stunning Ottoman Tray Ideas. Add elegance and organization to your home today.💫

[lazylittledragon]

please keep doing the right thing by not calling out this or any other imitators of your art. if they're not impersonating you, deceiving people about whose artworks were made/posted first, or threatening your livelihood (which is a wholly seperate issue of economics), there's no material damage being done here. that just leaves the shitty feelings you get from being aware of the imitation, and i have faith that you can get over those and move on with your life.

fact: your art is technically skillful and broadly appealing to tumblrites both in style and subject (big fandoms, popular ships, familiar tropes and ideas). that's why it's popular.

fact: social media incentivizes creators to post whatever content gets the most engagement and viewers to engage with the same kinds of content over and over, regardless of who copied who.

fact: the only thing no one else can copy is the fact that your art was made by *you*. if that's not enough for you to feel secure in the inherent value of what you make, i'm afraid there's an part of you that fears that your work is replaceable.

the discomfort and "creepiness" you talk about sounds like you're stuck in zero-sum mindset: this person can only gain something by taking it away from *you*. and that's just not true. what do you feel you're "losing" to them in this competition? praise? attention? social media points? money (see above)? unpack that.

fact: your art will be harder to imitate and less attractive to imitators if you get weirder and more experimental with it. which i would love to see, btw.

i appreciate this !! but also i should clarify: i'm not upset because i'm jealous of this person getting attention or i feel like i'm 'losing' to them in any way. i'm very secure in my own work now and if this was a stranger i probably wouldn't care as much. this is not any kind of 'threat' to me and the amount that this affects my actual life is very minimal

i'm upset because this is someone who i gave the benefit of the doubt and actually befriended, who went from taking small stylistic choices i made to potentially ripping off entire characters/comics that i wrote, and did it to my face. and i don't think it's an overreaction for me to be weirded out by that

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Lan Wangji Goes To Lotus Pier AU: Part 3: Enveloping Feelings.

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 4)

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

okay why did i never realise that the reason alex fucks up this guitar solo is because jamie comes up behind him and grinds against him 💀

[blueroses707]

Game night 💜

[1960z]

“haha odo is so beige and bland and boring despite being a literal shapeshifter” like ok yes I laugh at those jokes too and find them funny I literally have no issue with them but sometimes I also wanna talk about how that’s kind of the whole point of his character.

like odo’s abilities and way of being is so unlike any other known species in the alpha quadrant that it’s shown to be disturbing and off-putting to a lot of people — or at the very least that’s what he was led to believe. like we see this in the alternate where mora tries to convince him he’ll either be locked up in a prison or put in a zoo to gawk at if he’s perceived to have committed any sort of crime or transgression.

so despite being able to literally become anything he can think of, he chooses his default presentation to be as standard, bland and uninteresting as he possibly can. male, always in a beige uniform, very standard hair cut.

odo is so plain because he was made to be afraid of being literally anything else

[vveltergeist]

Always thinking about Titus and his little reliquary strapped to his waist with bones. What a rad fucking embellishment to his personal livery. My guy is just rocking up with a box o' bones to the function. Sick as hell.

My personal HC is that they're Sidonus' btw. Like straight up "taking my bestie to kill heretics! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝̸̱͂▄︻デ══━一 death can't stop the power of friendship HONOR BOUND BROTHERHOOD"

[mildcrow]

are there any Chappell Roan stannies in here orrrrr

[istar-gzng]

𝑯𝑶𝑾 𝑻𝑶 𝑩𝑼𝑰𝑳𝑫 𝑼𝑵𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑷𝑷𝑨𝑩𝑳𝑬 𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑭𝑰𝑫𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬

𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑖𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑜𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙- 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑣𝑖𝑣𝑎𝑙. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑙𝑦 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑙𝑦. 𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑖𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑒. 𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑤𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑛𝑜 𝑎𝑝𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑖𝑡.

𝑆𝑡𝑜𝑝 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑐𝑢𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝑟 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑝 𝑢𝑝, 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑙, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑢𝑖𝑙𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑠ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢.

1. 𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑫𝑺𝑬𝑻

𝐻𝑒𝑟𝑒'𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑡ℎ: 𝐼𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑖𝑛 𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑐𝑘, 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑒𝑙𝑠𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠.

𝐴𝑓𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑚 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑃𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟 :

𝐼𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 ℎ𝑦𝑝𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑢𝑝, 𝑤ℎ𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑒𝑙𝑠𝑒? 𝑅𝑒𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑙 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 :

❥︎ "𝐼'𝑚 𝑛𝑜𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠- 𝐼'𝑚 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑟."

❥︎ "𝐼'𝑚 𝑐𝑎𝑝𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑒 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟, 𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑙𝑢𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑦𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓."

❥︎ "𝐼 𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑜𝑤𝑒 𝑚𝑦𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔."

𝑆𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑆𝑒𝑙𝑓-𝐷𝑜𝑢𝑏𝑡 :

𝑆𝑡𝑜𝑝 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒 "𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑓" 𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟. 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑜𝑢𝑏𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑒𝑙𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑛. 𝐹𝑙𝑖𝑝 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 : 𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏?

𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑤𝑠 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑝 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑒𝑥𝑐𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑏𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠.

2. 𝑬𝑴𝑩𝑹𝑨𝑪𝑬 𝑨 𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑴𝑨𝑵𝑫𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑺𝑻𝒀𝑳𝑬

𝐼𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒, 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑛𝑜 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠. 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡- 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑖𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡.

𝐷𝑒𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝐿𝑜𝑜𝑘 :

𝑆𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑘 𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑖𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑓𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢.

𝐹𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑢𝑛𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑡ℎ��𝑦 𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑔𝑛 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑔𝑦. 𝐷𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠 𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟 ; 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑠? 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑠𝑜 𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ.

𝐼𝑛𝑣𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑖𝑛 𝐷𝑒𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑙𝑠 :

❥︎ 𝑃𝑜𝑙𝑖𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑛𝑎𝑖𝑙𝑠, 𝑔𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑘𝑖𝑛, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑐𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑣𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘.

❥︎ 𝑆ℎ𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑜𝑟 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝑊𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦.

❥︎ 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑡ℎ.

3. 𝑶𝑾𝑵 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑷𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬

𝑁𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚𝑠 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑖𝑡 𝑖𝑛. 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑙, 𝑎𝑐𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑝 𝑎𝑝𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑖𝑧𝑖��𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑒𝑥𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔.

❥︎ 𝑃𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑒𝑐𝑡 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑃𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒 : 𝑆ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘, 𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑛 𝑢𝑝. 𝑌𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑎 𝑑𝑜𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑎𝑡.

❥︎ 𝑀𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑃𝑢𝑟𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑒 : 𝑆𝑡𝑜𝑝 𝑓𝑖𝑑𝑔𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑝 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑠𝑎𝑦, "𝑊𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ 𝑚𝑒."

❥︎ 𝑀𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝐸𝑦𝑒 𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑐𝑡 : 𝐼𝑓 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒'𝑠 𝑔𝑎𝑧𝑒, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦'𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑘. 𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡.

𝑂𝑤𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑖𝑟𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡- 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑖𝑡 𝑖𝑠.

4. 𝑪𝑼𝑳𝑻𝑰𝑽𝑨𝑻𝑬 𝑰𝑵𝑵𝑬𝑹 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑶𝑼𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑺𝑻𝑹𝑬𝑵𝑮𝑻𝑯

𝐼𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑝ℎ𝑦𝑠𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑓𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑙𝑒, 𝑓𝑖𝑥 𝑖𝑡. 𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑤 𝑖𝑛 𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠.

𝑃ℎ𝑦𝑠𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑊𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠 :

❥︎ 𝐸𝑥𝑒𝑟𝑐𝑖𝑠𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑔𝑢𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑔𝑖𝑧𝑒𝑑. 𝐹𝑜𝑐𝑢𝑠 𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑤𝑒𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑦𝑜𝑔𝑎, 𝑜𝑟 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒.

❥︎ 𝑃𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑧𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑛𝑢𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛. 𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑜𝑑𝑦 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑠 𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡.

𝑀𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑙 𝑅𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 :

❥︎ 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑, 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑛, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑤. 𝐾𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑙𝑒𝑑𝑔𝑒 𝑏𝑢𝑖𝑙𝑑𝑠 𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓-𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒.

❥︎ 𝑃𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑒 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔.

❥︎ 𝑇𝑟𝑢𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑜𝑡ℎ 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑜𝑑𝑦.

5. 𝑺𝑷𝑬𝑨𝑲 𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑯 𝑷𝑼𝑹𝑷𝑶𝑺𝑬

𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑙𝑒𝑐𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑣𝑎𝑙𝑢𝑒. 𝐶ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑤𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑦.

❥︎ 𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑙 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑇𝑜𝑛𝑒 : 𝑆𝑡𝑜𝑝 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑢𝑛𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒. 𝑆𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑖𝑡, 𝑜𝑟 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑎𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑙.

❥︎ 𝐵𝑒 𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑖𝑠𝑒 : 𝐼𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑎𝑚𝑏𝑙𝑒, 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑝 𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝐺𝑒𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑖𝑡 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑝.

❥︎ 𝐿𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑆𝑎𝑦 𝑁𝑜 : 𝑆𝑡𝑜𝑝 𝑎𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝐵𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑛-𝑛𝑒𝑔𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒.

𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌, 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒉 𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐.

6. 𝑪𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑬 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑶𝑾𝑵 𝑬𝑵𝑬𝑹𝑮𝒀

𝑁𝑜𝑏𝑜𝑑𝑦 𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑣𝑖𝑏𝑒𝑠- 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚.

❥︎ 𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑐𝑡 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑆𝑝𝑎𝑐𝑒 : 𝐼𝑓 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒'𝑠 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛, 𝑐𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑜𝑓𝑓. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑤𝑒𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡.

❥︎ 𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑙 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑁𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 : 𝑆ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡. 𝑃𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑣𝑒 𝑎𝑐𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑓 ����𝑜𝑢.

❥︎ 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝑈𝑛𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 : 𝐾𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑒𝑣𝑜𝑙𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝑇𝑟𝑦 𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑠𝑡𝑦𝑙𝑒𝑠, ℎ𝑎𝑏𝑖𝑡𝑠, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝑑𝑦𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑐 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑔𝑢𝑖𝑛𝑔.

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒈𝒚 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒑𝒆𝒐𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒅-𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒗𝒆𝒔, 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖.

7. 𝑬𝑴𝑩𝑹𝑨𝑪𝑬 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑬 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑮𝑹𝑶𝑾𝑻𝑯

𝐼𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑒𝑣𝑜𝑙𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑚𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒.

❥︎ 𝑅𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 : 𝑁𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑓𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑔𝑜 𝑜𝑓 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑛𝑜 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑎𝑛 𝑜𝑙𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑏𝑖𝑡, 𝑎 𝑡𝑜𝑥𝑖𝑐 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝𝑠, 𝑜𝑟 𝑎 𝑙𝑖𝑚𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑓. 𝐿𝑜𝑦𝑎𝑙𝑡𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑜𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠.

❥︎ 𝑆𝑒𝑡 𝐵𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝐺𝑜𝑎𝑙𝑠 : 𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒. 𝐷𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚 𝑏𝑖𝑔, 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑛 𝑏𝑖𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑟, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑑𝑎𝑖𝑙𝑦.

❥︎ 𝐶𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑊𝑖𝑛𝑠 : 𝑆𝑡𝑜𝑝 𝑏𝑟𝑢𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑓𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠𝑢𝑐𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑠. 𝑂𝑤𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚.

𝑮𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒕𝒉 𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒇𝒖𝒍, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒔𝒆.

8. 𝑪𝑼𝑹𝑨𝑻𝑬 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑬𝑵𝑽𝑰𝑹𝑶𝑵𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑻

𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑎 𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑙𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝐼𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦'𝑟𝑒 𝑎 𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑠, 𝑓𝑖𝑥 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚.

❥︎ 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑆𝑝𝑎𝑐𝑒 : 𝐶𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑖𝑡. 𝑂𝑟𝑔𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑧𝑒 𝑖𝑡. 𝑀𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑖𝑡 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒.

❥︎ 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝐷𝑖𝑔𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑙 𝑃𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 : 𝑈𝑛𝑓𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑒𝑛𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ.

❥︎ 𝑃𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛. 𝐴𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑖𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑎𝑙- 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡 𝑖𝑠.

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒆𝒏𝒗𝒊𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒗𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌.

9. 𝑳𝑰𝑽𝑬 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑭𝑰𝑫𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑫𝑨𝑰𝑳𝒀

𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑦𝑙𝑒. 𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑢𝑝, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑙𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑠, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑.

❥︎ 𝑀𝑜𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑅𝑖𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑠 : 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑎 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑟. 𝐴𝑐𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑦 𝑠𝑢𝑐𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑓𝑢𝑙.

❥︎ 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑅𝑒𝑓𝑙𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 : 𝐿𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑠𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓: 𝐷𝑖𝑑 𝐼 𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑦 𝑔𝑜𝑎𝑙𝑠? 𝐼𝑓 𝑛𝑜𝑡, 𝑓𝑖𝑥 𝑖𝑡 𝑡𝑜𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑤.

❥︎ 𝑉𝑖𝑠𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑧𝑒 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑃𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟 : 𝑆𝑒𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑝 𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑙 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛.

𝑭𝑰𝑵𝑨𝑳 𝑻𝑯𝑶𝑼𝑮𝑯𝑻𝑺

𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑖𝑠𝑛'𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑦, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑖𝑡. 𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑒𝑐𝑡 𝑚𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡. 𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑡.

𝑆𝑡𝑜𝑝 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑝𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑎𝑙. 𝐵𝑒 𝑠𝑜 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑖𝑔𝑛𝑜𝑟e 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑤𝑎𝑙𝑘 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑖𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑖𝑡.

𝑁𝑜𝑤, 𝑔𝑜. 𝐵𝑢𝑖𝑙𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑖𝑟𝑒.

[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.

[maryymaruu]

Okay I'm going to need to find the tumblr account of the author of Ragequit logs fanfic because what the hell kind of dark magic did they use- I developed a new laughter, that specifically manifests ONLY when I'm reading the fanfic-???! 😂

I don't snort when I laugh-!! I NEVER DID! BUT without fail, every time I read the fanfic I laugh and chuckle and giggle and SNORT like a big ahh dork- 😂😂💦💦

For real, it's so nicely written, i can't stop smiling and snort-laughing, oh my gawd. It's so good to see all four of these dorks being so... okay! Not in pain! Not in anguish! They're okay and they're in contact!! Oh the sweet honey for my heart.

I love the personalities the four of them display in this fanfic, they're very enjoyable. Pebbles is really cute, harsh in the tongue but soft at the heart- Moon is a lot more pro-active here and we get to see how she indeed is overprotective of her little brother. Suns is so adorable and shy!! And oh boi, NSH my favorite- the "obnoxious, ALWAYS happy" friend- I feel like there is a big hurt he's keeping secret from everyone and gosh do I hope Pebbles gets to pry it out of him. Go heal each other, you fools (affectionately)

[butterfilledpockets]

I swear, Ronin is the equivalent of "why are we here...? Just to suffer??" In the B.E.N.T. au while his other dimension brothers are causing chaos. Somehow, Ronin is still the youngest, but he also feels like the oldest wrangling a bunch of kindergarteners and trying to make sure they don't set the place on fire. That guy is a walking existential crisis

this is how it feels 24/7

forever subjected to little brother

[marquisecubey]

emperor / empress

[thegikitiki]

Artist's Studio, 1985

[plumbus-central]

i love imagining scenarios where morty and summer meet rick and minnie when they were their age, whether through time travel, parallel universe, age regression, or some other sci fi nonsense.

god bless him mortys trying hard to relate to his teenage grandmother from the late 70s

[jojo-schmo]

Just Admit It- Part 1

I've been playing around with possible friendship dynamics of the Beast Council for fun!! I love imagining what kind of childhood they could have in the Forgotten Land all together.

What if Carol and Sillydillo are the fun-loving extroverts? Leon is the introverted one who's been smitten by Carol for a really really long time but he's too shy about it? And Gori is the friend who is an excellent observer and will bluntly tell you what he thinks (and maybe has a tendency to get grumpy when things aren't easily going his way).

Somewhat of a prequel to this other doodle comic about Leon and Carol- everyone here is still a kid ^_^

Part 2