#didn't emote.................

[braywashed]

My mom told me I couldn’t be autistic because “you make friends so easily!” Mom am I making friends or am I just holding other kids hostage, telling them every single fact I know about cats (learned from all of the books about cats that YOU bought me because you thought it was “cute” that I was soooo interested in cats), and giving them a detailed rundown of every wrestler’s storyline on Monday Night RAW (which I only got into while randomly flipping channels one night and then YOU told me every wrestler’s backstory, but you insisted such intricate knowledge is perfectly normal)? Am I making friends or am I being bullied because I can’t stop talking about things other kids don’t care about and/or find weird? Mom. Answer the question, mom!

Girls Are Just Like That!

GIRLS ARE JUST LIKE SO QUIRKY

TEEHEE

[inkskinned]

what is with men being mad any time a woman raises her voice where did that even come from. someone posted a video of a small electrical explosion, and the top comment was of course the woman screams. the second comment is women try not to scream challenge, level impossible. i had to go back and watch the video again. there is, somewhat fainty, a little gasp emitted off-camera, more of a yelp than a scream. it is mostly lost in the crack of the explosion. afterwards, you hear her voice, shaken, say, are you okay?

i am helping one of my friends train her voice pitch lower, because she wants to be taken seriously at work. she and i do each other's nails and talk about gender roles; and how - due to our appearance - neither of us have ever been able to be "hysterical" in public. we both appear young and sweet and feminine. she is cisgender, and cannot use her natural voice in her profession because people keep saying she appears to be "vapid". we both try to figure out if our purposeful voice lowering is technically sexist. is it promoting something when you are a victim to it?

a storm almost sends a pole through a car window. in the dashcam, you can hear the woman passenger say her partner's name twice, crying out in alarm. she sounds terrified. in the comments, she is lambasted for her lack of calm. how is that even fucking helping?

in high school, i taught myself to have a lower voice. i had been recorded when i was genuinely (and righteously) upset; and i hated how my voice sounded on the phone speakers when it was played back. i was defending my mom, and my voice cracked with emotion. it meant i was no longer winning the argument: i was just shrieking about it.

girls meet each other after a long summer and let out a little joyful scream. this usually stops around 12-14, because people will not tolerate this display of affection (as it has the effect of being passingly annoying). something about the fact that little girls can't ever even be annoying. we are trained to examine each part of our lives (even joy) for anything that could make us upsetting and disgusting. they act like teenage girls are breaking into houses and shrieking you awake at 3 in the morning. speaking as a public school educator: trust me, it's not that bad, you can just roll your eyes and move on. it does not compare to the ways boys end up being annoying: slurs in graffiti, purposefully mocking your body, following you after you said no. you know, just boy things.

there's another video of a man who is not allowed to yell in the house, so he snaps his fingers when he's excited about soccer. the comments are full of angry men, talking about how their brother is unfairly caged. let him express himself and this is terrible to do to someone. eventually the couple has to address it in a second video: they are married with a newborn baby. he was trying not to wake the infant up. there is no comment on the fact women are not allowed to yell indoors. or the fact that it could have been really alarming or triggering for his wife. sometimes i wonder if straight men even like women, if they even enjoy being in relationships with them.

for the longest time, i hated roller coasters because it always felt inappropriate and uncomfortable for me to scream. one of my friends called me on it, said it was unusual i'm so unwilling. i had to go to my therapist about it. i don't like to scream because i was not raised in a safe situation, and raising my voice would have brought unsafe attention towards me. even when i am supposed to scream, it feels shameful, guilty. i was not treated kindly, so i lack a basic form of self-protection. this is not a natural response. it is not good that in a situation of high adrenaline - i shut up about it.

something very bad is happening, i think. in between all the beauty standards and the stuff i've already discussed - this one feels new and cruel in a way i can't quite express. yes, it's scary and silencing. but there's something about how direct it is - that so many men agree with the sentiment that women should never yell, even in an emergency - it feels different.

is the word shriek gendered automatically? how about shrill or screech? in self defense class, one of the first things they tell you is to yell, as loud and as shrilly as you can. they say it will feel rude. most women will not do this. you need to practice overcoming the social pressure and just scream.

most women do not cry out, even when it's bad. we do not report it. we walk faster. we do not make a scene. what would be the point of doing anything else? no matter what we do, we don't get taken seriously. it is a joke to them. an instagram caption punchline. we have to present ourselves as silent, beautiful, captivating - "valuable."

a woman is outside watching her kids when someone throws a firecracker at them. she screams and runs towards her children. in the comments, grown men flock together in the thousands: god. women are so annoying.

[factual-fantasy]

Oh copy/paste and desktop Tumblr, how I've missed you so XDD

I'm still unable to sit at my desk for as long as I'd like to.. but I can sit long enough to draw some comics here and there at least! One of which being a (somewhat) angsty comic with Grim and V! Did you really think they escaped my angst curse?? It was only a matter of time before I cursed them as well! XDD

But for real, I've wanted to draw something angsty with Grim and V for a while now. And I'm glad I was finally able to! Even if its kind'aaa more of a goofy comic with angsty undertones rather than full on angst. XDD

The more I draw these two, the more lore I start to build in the background... I wonder if I should explore Grim's more serious angst sometime.. 😈😈

[tagerrkix]

rage.

[almondcroissantsandink]

the weather here has been incredibly icky so I watched The Guy Who Didn't like Musicals for the first time and Joey Richter always makes the best expressions

[decompose1]

i think there’s divinity in gross and ugly things. i think the radical love and acceptance of what is weird and nasty is angelic and i think there is something holy about indulging in the neglected/looked down on/outcast/unacceptable parts of this world. you should let yourself be weird

[chattematsu]

[4.0 archon quest spoilers]

[zivazivc]

“Floyd, could you sing to me?”

The big brother looked up from where he was tucking the blanket under Branch’s feet. “Sure thing,” he said with a light smile.  “What would you like to hear? A lullaby?”

“I don’t know,” Branch mumbled as he nestled his head into the pillow. “You choose.”

Floyd could still see a crease of worry between his baby brother’s brows. He softly brushed a thumb over it in a silent reassurance that everything was going to be okay before he turned around to reach for their dad’s old guitar.

I think Floyd would often sing to Branch to get him to fall asleep, usually the songs and lullabies their parents sang when the older four were still little.

I know in the movie it seemed like they all left right after their fight, but I like to imagine that they just stormed off to cool off and that they actually left in the following days. And that this was the last song Floyd sang for Branch that night. :')

Both Sides Now (specifically this cover by Voncken) Rows and flows of angel hair And ice cream castles in the air And feather canyons everywhere I've looked at clouds that way But now they only block the sun They snow and rain on everyone So many things I would've done But clouds got in the way I've looked at clouds from both sides now From up and down, and still somehow It's clouds’ illusions, I recall I really don't know clouds at all Moons and Junes and Ferris wheels The dizzy dancin' way you feel When every fairy tale comes real I've looked at love that way But now it's just another show You leave 'em laughin' as you go And if you care, don't let them know Don't give yourself away I've looked at love from both sides now From give and take, and still somehow It's love's illusions, I recall I really don't know love at all Tears and fears and feeling proud To say "I love you" right out loud Dreams and schemes and circus crowds I've looked at life that way But now my friends, they’re acting strange They shake their heads, and say I've changed Well, something's lost, but something's gained In living life each day I've looked at life from both sides now From up and down And give and take And win and lose, and still somehow It's life's illusions, I recall I really don't know life... I really don't know life at all

[regonold]

Ok fun idea so danny gains a reputation of the ghost who defeated the ghost king not becoming the ghost king but the man (boy) who defeated him

Like out of nowhere danny suddenly has the reputation of i defeated the being who it took a team of ancients to seal away

And eventually people hear of other things danny has done like defeating nocturn undergrowth and vortex and befriending clockwork pandora and frostbite

Until eventually he's accidentally built up a mythos around himself like he's went from friendly neighbourhood ghost boy to somehow a mythic being of legend

Which slowly bleads to his rouges and friends because why would the legendary phantom be fighting children no clearly they are much more powerful

So slowly danny is boosting his and his rouges and friends powers to powerful forces like the rouges might wonder what's happening as they are suddenly gaining powers or getting stronger and gaining titles

Like ember becomes known as mistress of sound and skullker actually gains the title of realms greatest hunter because how else could he survive against the legendary danny phantom

All the while Danny's got no clue whats happening except he's more powerful he's got no clue why but eh it helps so he's cool with it

Basically danny accidentally makes himself and his rouges/friends gods due to association and belief

If you wanna make it dpxdc some cult actually manages to summon the ghost king so Constantine decides to summon the one ghost supposedly able to beat the mad king

Only to get a fucking child and for said child to be a sassy little shit

[marzipanandminutiae]

as a woman who grew up with an emotionally abusive mother constantly telling me I needed to wear more makeup/more revealing clothing/date (boys) more/go out to "normal" parties more, I despise "she should be at the club"

god forbid some people- especially young women, who already have to deal with a thousand different behavioral standards from a thousand different directions -not have the same dreams and desires for their lives as you do for yours

fucking hell. the correct response to "women should stay at home and have kids and be submissive wives" prescriptivism was not MORE PRESCRIPTIVISM

(I also just saw a poll asking if people partied as teenagers, and OP responded that the answers were "killing them" because No was winning. like? why is everyone so personally invested in other people having a very specific kind of fun?)

[pretzelgotze]

Monaco GP 2024 - Max and Charles Edition

[markantonys]

2x01 | 2x08

[kenobihater]

made a post a while back on how javert's suicide is often poorly portrayed in film adaptations to the point of accidental comedy, and how the 1978 movie in particular is the most unhinged example. audio warning for a loud trumpet blast, don't turn up your volume

[somewhereincairparavel]

Jason's approach to Nico is actually SO tactful and empathetic. He is super emotionally and strategically intellectual + he is canonically an expert at reading body language because of lupa + he also observes people a lot, so I'm not surprised.

He called Nico out and told him to stop hiding in the shadows and pushing people away, but simultaneously reassured him that he was willing to be nicos friend. He gave nico a blunt reality check on what he's doing, but wasn't rude about it.

He never told anyone nicos secret, not even his girlfriend, and was very patient with him even after he lashed out. And after their friendship evolved, he was STILL very tactful and sought consent before he hugged Nico. He never forced or guilt tripped nico into staying at camp, and respected his decision if he wanted to leave but told him he'd always be welcome in both camps.

He also went to Nico's cabin simply to check on how he was doing and reassure him that he'd always be there for him no matter what (kind of like how he went to piper's room on the argo ii to check on how she was doing even though HE was the one who got stabbed by a sword like 5 mins ago lol-)

And that little scene where Jason got excited after nico said he's staying and just overflowed nico with plans on what they could do (like sing in campfires) but immediately apologized for overwhelming nico so much , while assuring him that they didn't have to do all that if nico didn't want to, and that he's just glad nico was staying.

Ugh jason grace the man you are

[solarisfortuneia]

— 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬.

and the smell of camphor dancing in the wind.

✦ info: he didn't know he'd lose you so soon. (come back, please. even if it is just for five more minutes.)

✦ featuring: alhaitham.

✦ warnings: angst, character death (reader), heartache, 1.2k words, somewhat proof-read.

✦ notes: i cried so goddamn hard writing this. why is my first work after hiatus pain. why did i pick up the angst wip. but!! i'm writing again, so that's good. (more notes at the end.)

he didn’t know that it was your last day together. 

he didn’t know that the smile you gave him that afternoon, your eyes sparkling like sunlight upon the serene waves of the ocean, would be the last he’d ever see. that the playful light in your gaze would fade so very soon, slipping through his fingers like sand.

he didn’t know that last night would be the last time he held you close while you drifted off to sleep. he didn’t know that today would be the last time he’d wake up with you.

he didn’t think he’d lose you like this. 

he didn’t think he wouldn’t be able to save you from that blow. 

“please, please,”  he begs, both to you and to whatever force that is just barely holding you together. “just stay with me for five more minutes, please. until i can get you somewhere.” 

the rain soaks him to the bone, clothes and hair sticking to his skin. your lips stay motionless, eyes shut.

“wake up, please,”  he bargains. “you can have all the five minutes of extra sleep you want later, i promise. just—”  his vision blurs, and something shines on the ground before it is gone, swallowed by damp earth, lost amidst drops of falling rain. 

desperately, he tears off parts of his traveling cloak to staunch the bleeding. deep inside, he knows it is futile. he knows your wound is too great. he knows what lies ahead. but he cannot help but press the cloths to your wound and pray. 

please, please tell me it’ll be okay. 

please stay with me, beloved. i’ll read you all the books in the world. i’ll sleep in with you everyday, even if we end up whiling away our time. 

please. stay. stay with me. i can’t lose you yet.  

“— just wake up, beloved.” 

by some miracle, your eye flutters. just a bit. just enough to set hope ablaze, just enough for the grip on his heart to loosen a tiny bit. he buries his face in your shoulder, resting his head against your neck, uncaring of the blood that stains his clothes. your blood. on his clothes. his hands. everywhere. 

no. no. this can’t be happening.

he feels you strain beneath him, your unwounded arm gently, weakly brushing his back. he jolts upright, eyes trained on your face. you send a frail smile his way. he clasps your face softly as you nuzzle into his palm.

“alhaitham—” 

his full name. archons, how long has it been since you called him that?  

“— take good care of yourself, okay?” you tell him, chest heaving, your fingertips touching a tear on his cheeks. “i love you. so much.” 

those are the last words he hears fall from your lips. he presses a kiss to your forehead, to your eyelids, and to your cheeks and to your lips, over and over and over until he feels your breath slow, hoping they’ll say what he knows he cannot manage to choke out.

i love you. 

he stays there next to you for who knows how long, holding you until the rain slows and a faint rainbow smiles in the sky.

until he can’t smell camphor anymore.

—

every person has their curiosities. 

they’re just the little traits that set them apart from others, the things that make them tick just a little bit differently, the things that make them, them.

for instance, someone may be obsessed with collecting tiny furniture, while another eats the crusts off their sandwich before actually consuming it. someone may have an affinity for the most niche aspects of linguistics, while another can accurately predict the next raindrop that slides down a window pane.

after all, no two people are exactly alike, are they?

alhaitham knows he’s got his fair share of these curiosities himself. his aversion to soup and all things that resemble it, to name one. and with you, he’d noticed two things. 

number one: the scent of camphor that seems to linger on every inch of your person. 

he’d caught whiff of it almost immediately the first time you met. you were but one of his juniors in the akademiya, filled with bright-eyed curiosity and anxiety to match. you had tripped over a stair and bumped into his table in the library, bringing the mountain of books in your arms crashing down.

and with subsequent coincidental meetings, he learnt that the subtle scent of camphor dancing in the air meant you weren’t far away. 

you were, unfortunately, one of the poor souls who seemed to be cursed with constantly recurring minor illnesses, and almost always walked about with a stuffy nose. and so, you always carried a small disc of camphor in a handkerchief, as well as in your pocket.

you swore up and down, left, right and center that sniffing the vapors helped make breathing easier.

‘it’s my grandmother’s remedy, alhaitham! camphor always works wonders. well, that and eucalyptus oil.”

alhaitham may not know the validity of your claim or the legitimacy of the cure, but he knew to never, ever question a grandmother’s remedy. that, and he’d much rather refrain from starting a back-and-forth about something so small.

and number two: your neverending pleas of different variations of ‘just five more minutes!’ 

“five more minutes, ‘haitham. please.” you’d whine grumpily when he woke you up to start your day. “let me sleep in for five more minutes.” 

“five more minutes, habibi,” you’d ask when he put down the story you’d requested he read out to you before bedtime. “read me the part where she finds the music box?”

“five more minutes, baby,” is what you’d tell him when he asks how much longer you’d take getting ready. “you can’t rush perfection!”

those five more minutes were never five minutes long. 

but he’d always, always indulged you and those pleading eyes of yours. as stoic as he appeared to be, you lived in his heart. of course he could never deny you anything under the sun.

—

alhaitham remembers that silly little song you sang over and over, the one you’d learnt from a kid in the bazaar. he’d taken you to see one of nilou’s performances, and, friendly soul that you were, you’d struck up a conversation with some of the eager audience members before the play. 

“oh, how i wish i was a bird flying free,

i’d see the world, every mountain and every sea!

oh, how i wish i was a cloud in the sky,

wouldn’t you like to wave to me as i pass by?”

you’d hum that rhyme on every idle afternoon.

loss is inevitable. he knows that, with how logical and rational and straightforward he is. he’d lost his parents, but he was far too young to remember. he’d lost his grandmother, but she passed in her sleep of old age, serene and wise.

but you? he didn’t think you’d leave him this soon. a singular wish sits in his soul, making its home in his bones. 

a wish that you’d come back, somehow. 

he wishes you gave him five more minutes, just as he always did.  but he knows that you could’ve given him five more hours, five more days, five more years and five more decades and it would still not be enough time spent with you. 

a blue feathered bird comes to perch on his shoulder, interrupting his musings just as he raises his face to the sky. he sees the heart shaped cloud that floats idly above sumeru city.

 he thinks of the rhyme again, and something in him tells him to wave. and so he does. a scent so familiar lingers, faintly brushing his nose in the wind that picks up.

“alhaitham, it's time to go.”  kaveh calls his name softly.

 alhaitham doesn't move. “five more minutes,”  he says, echoing your favorite phrase. “i smell camphor in the breeze.” 

✦ extra notes: my alhaitham characterization for this fic stems from how i believe that when alhaitham is attached, he's attached. so i focused more on that, and less of all that rationality and whatnot. this one loves deeply, yk?

that camphor thing is a real grandma remedy in our household (my mom would tie some in a hanky and put some under my pillow and still to this day reminds me to do it when i'm sick) which is what originally sparked the idea for this

when i'd initially started this wip, i didn't expect it go this way. usually i write with my brain, but i think i wrote this one with my fingers working faster than i can think hsjhsj so sorry if it's kinda out of place lmao but yk what? i'm happy with it still even though i feel like it doesn't have my usual quality.

thanks for reading.

[jeeaark]

Shirtless Disaster Pt. 1

So. pretty sure the emperor cusses. just. never had the reason to say out loud. or has a filter on when they talk. Until Greygold happened. You ever try and look with the emperor's perspective when Tav makes decisions and go, 'H-how are you not ceaselessly cussing like a sailor at Tav?'

ANYWAY- HERE'S THE THING. TRULY. Always had my squinty-eyed caution on Emps. Trying to ascertain if they were for real with their words/actions/intentions or not. but. Squid buddy sharing their feelings of caring was the uh snowball that started this avalanche. Can't fake feelings huah, GREYGOLD FINALLY FOUND THOSE MUSHY BITS HUAH.

I ain't gonna let y'all wonder what Greygold's answer was, so uh. Bonus!