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#i have suffered y'all
qqueenofhades · 4 months
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For the last two nights, I have been locked in a deadly battle against the sadistic smoke alarm in my bedroom. I have emerged victorious, but it has been a close-run and deeply humiliating thing. Let me take you on a stupid, stupid journey.
Flashback: The night before last, I am woken out of a dead sleep at 5am by the persistently and maddeningly consistent chirp of a low-battery smoke alarm. You know the one: [Thirty seconds of blissful silence] CHIRP. [Thirty seconds of confused but slightly less blissful silence] CHIRP. [Thirty seconds of hopeful silence that maybe it's done n -- ] CHIRP.
Anyway. I tried to ignore it for a bit. This did not work. I hoped it would go away. This also did not work. I finally get out of bed and angrily lumber around the apartment, stick my head out the front door, etc, looking for the source. Finally, I seize upon the hallway smoke alarm and vengefully remove the battery, deciding that if I therefore die in a fire in the next three hours, this is a worthwhile sacrifice. (Sidenote that will become important later: The bedroom smoke alarm is located less than a foot from the hallway smoke alarm. Did I walk right past it? Multiple times? Apparently so.)
Falsely confident that I have solved the problem, I get back in bed. Surely this is now totally --
CHIRP.
I contemplate homicide. I think the noise is surely coming from one of my neighbors' units and wonder why they are so stupid as not to know that there is a frigging alarm going off constantly and disturbing my sleep and probably theirs. I figure that while I might be going crazy and hearing things which are not there, it's probably the case that someone else can hear it too. Finally, I appear to be vindicated in this assumption when the infernal cheeping finally stops and I am able to fall soundly back to sleep for another three hours. When I wake up, it remains quiet. All day, in fact!
Ha! I think. Problem solved.
I am incorrect.
Last night: I get ready for bed. I get in bed, I am awake for a bit, and then lo, it starts again, at literally midnight. Thirty seconds [CHIRP]. Thirty seconds [CHIRP]. Thirty seconds, [CHIRP].
I don't know why it wants to make me suffer in this way. We have established that for whatever reason it decided to hold its fire over the last entire day, it was nothing whatsoever to do with anything I did. I don't know why it decided to resume at LITERALLY MIDNIGHT instead of, you know, any other hour where I would be better equipped to discover the source of this nocturnal demonic howling, but I suspect this is my penance. I once more attempt to ignore it. Turn up the white noise machine and put in the earplugs. Remind myself that I have started meditating lately, maybe I can use that!
It does not work.
I attempt to figure out whether it is coming from the next door neighbors or the upstairs neighbors. GET UP AND TURN IT OFF, I think in great vexation. Nope. Still nothing. It keeps going. I contemplate the folly of all human existence.
Finally, once more driven to extremes, I get up and AGAIN lumber all the way around the apartment, like an angry sleep-deprived zombie, to try and fail to discover the source of this infernal bellowing. As most of you know, I am about to start my fourth graduate degree. Habitually and fondly, I consider myself somewhat smarter than the average potted plant. This however continues to avail me nothing. I compose angry emails in my head to the maintenance department, which said they had fixed a similar problem and then didn't. WHY ARE MY NEIGHBORS SO DUMB, I wonder. THAT IS CLEARLY IN THEIR UNIT AND THEY SHOULD TURN IT OFF.
I get back in bed. I take a sleeping pill. Either that works or the cacophony mysteriously subsides for a while, because I get to sleep for about four hours and have weird, smoke-alarm-inflected dreams. I wake up again this morning. It is still beeping. How bad, I think, could it really be if I burned this place down?
Finally, I give up. I get up. I turn off the white noise machine and take out the earplugs. Wow, I think. This noise truly is so loud. Is it possibly in my apartment after all? I remember that like a true Luddite, my preferred superpower would be to smash all noise-making machines. Yes, I am approximately ninety years old in almost every way. Let's not dwell on it.
I light upon the bedroom smoke detector. I narrow my eyes.
I spring forth and disembowel the culprit of its battery.
At last! For the first time in forty-eight hours! Blessed silence falls upon my abode! I stare at the cursed machine. The inside of the battery compartment reads CAUTION: ALARM IS NONFUNCTIONAL WITH BATTERY REMOVED.
"YES," I bellow, in my angry and confused sleep-deprived caveman haze. "YES, THAT IS PRESENTLY MY EXACT INTENTION."
Silence. Finally. Except for the sound of another alarm chirping somewhere in the distance, as it has done for several weeks now, but quietly enough that I can mostly tune it out. I will purchase a new battery when I am out today, but etc etc if I die in a fire in the next three hours, you may assume the sadistic smoke alarm has taught me its final lesson.
So. There you go. There is no moral to this story except a) the call was indeed coming from inside the house, b) Share O My Toils, Tumblr; and c) sometimes it is indeed you. The angry groggy moron lumbering around at the dead of night and attempting to break things in a vain effort to shut them up, wondering why their neighbors won't get up and turn it off instead, is sometimes just you.
Tonight, at last, I will sleep in peace. Until I once more become Frodo of the Shire, One Who Has Seen The Eye (of the demonically possessed smoke detector).
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shellem15 · 1 month
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Can I just say, I really appreciate how Critical Role plays the Devil trope straight. There's been this phenomena in a lot of modern media (I'm not going to mention specifics but I'm sure a few examples pop up in people's minds) where Hell and the Devil aren't scary or malevolent forces. Hell is portrayed as being basically the same as our world just "edgier", and the Devil is a pretty decent guy actually. Heaven are secretly the real bad guys!
But Critical Role doesn't do that. In Exandria, Asmodeus *feels* like the Devil. He's malevolent and manipulative and terrifyingly powerful and he hates you, personally. We never see that type of portrayal anymore! And it's amazing! And he still manages to be sympathetic and tragic without losing his edge!
And the "Good Gods" are portrayed as flawed without being secretly evil or something! Like, actual nuance? In my Heaven/Hell dichotomy? What!?
It's just such a breath of fresh air after so many "The Devil was right, actually" stories. So props to Matt and Brennan and the cast.
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sweet child, you didn't even stand a chance
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kor0kke · 2 months
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💖 Caption this
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montrealmadison · 3 months
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"well, they were a pretty big deal. like, demolishing-all-of-junior-hockey's-stats kind of deal. like patenting the zimmermann-parson no-look one-timer kind of deal."
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pitske · 4 months
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queer people?
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actual-changeling · 10 months
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Did you go to Alpha Centauri? — No. I changed my mind. Stuff happened.
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I lost my best friend.
(and this time he might never come back)
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nau-the-duke · 4 months
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Fluffiest fluff to ever fluff
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The love I hold for him can't be described, drawing him has me giggling and kicking my feet in the air, he's so nfgkfdbhdf AGH
Anyways
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mobius-m-mobius · 10 months
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#letting time pass
Loki S2 (2023) // Good Omens S2 (2023)
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viperwhispered · 4 months
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Too Fast
Part 4 of Jamil versus feelings (aka How Not to Be Swept Under, aka the Too Much series). Let's see how Jamil's plan of action pans out. Part 1, part 2, part 3.
Jamil had a plan.
He already knew he could make you smile, even laugh. That you sought out his company - and not just to sample his cooking (or Kalim’s generosity). Like that time when Jamil had helped you with your homework - considering how little you needed the help, it seemed to have been an excuse on both your sides to just spend time with each other.
Jamil knew the foods that would bring that delighted sparkle to your eye, knew when to step in before you were overwhelmed. You often shared any news with Jamil, filling him in the little happenings of your life - and had gotten him to do the same with you, too. He’d listened to you reminisce about your childhood and your home, even knew a few embarrassing secrets you’d revealed over the course of your conversations.
In short, it was clear that you had some degree of fondness for him.
However, Jamil had yet to ascertain the exact nature of how you felt about him.
But he was certain he could pull it out of you. Nudge you to act, to talk, so that he could gather those signs to tell him if you were open for more.
He’d see if you truly didn’t speak to others the same way you did to him. If you truly didn’t give others that look which always made things so difficult for him.
There had been those times when you had blushed in Jamil’s presence. You’d flustered, stuttered, restless fingers showing your nervousness.
But Jamil needed to make sure if it was because of him, or just the situations you’d been in.
Jamil had recognized the things you were doing, how you kept on getting closer to him.
But he needed to know if it all was enough for what he wanted with you.
And if not… Well. Perhaps there was something to be done about that. Given enough time, enough attention…
He could be a listening ear, a supporting presence, get to know you further, if he needed to.
Yes, he wanted you to be his sooner rather than later, but if he had to wait and work for it, he would.
After all, it was not like him to ruin such things with haste.
When Jamil’s phone buzzed, he pulled it out without even thinking about it.
Before, he always dreaded it, his phone typically only coming to life when Kalim needed something or there was another crisis to deal with.
Yet, nowadays, there was always the hope of it being you.
Jamil hefted his gym bag over his shoulder and unlocked his phone. The basketball club had run late today, and he needed to hurry back to Scarabia - but not before checking the message.
Thankfully, you were indeed the sender.
Hey, wanna go out to the town sometime? Cater told me there’s a nice cafe that opened recently.
Another message popped in before Jamil could finish reading the first.
Like, go out as a date.
The phone slipped from Jamil’s grip, landing on the locker room bench with a thud.
“Hey, Jamil, what’s got you so clumsy?” Ace said, peering at Jamil with a teasing grin.
Jamil cursed himself internally, quickly hiding your messages from view. Normally, he would’ve been walking across campus at this time, perhaps at the dorm already, rather than under the watchful eyes of his clubmates.
But, of course, not today.
“Just fumbled,” Jamil said, struggling to school his expression back to neutral.
“You sure about that? You’re looking awfully flustered,” Ace snickered.
“Ooo, is Sea Snake getting some exciting messages?” Floyd asked, looming closer.
Jamil gave both of them a sharp glare - the effect perhaps hampered by his flushed complexion. He really did not need Floyd and Ace’s antics on top of this bombshell right now.
“Must be the effects of the practice,” Jamil said with a tone of finality.
Not that that seemed to deter the two, now that they’d gotten a taste of blood in the water.
Rather than bickering with them further Jamil grabbed his things and hurried off. He almost expected Floyd to chase after him, even half-dressed as Floyd still was, but thankfully the eel did not seem to be in that much of an inquisitive mood today.
Small blessings.
Jamil was barely aware of his surroundings as he walked, his heart beating a more frantic rhythm than it had during the practice.
How was he supposed to respond to you?
He had not even done anything as he planned, and you already…
Jamil shook his head, tried to keep himself together despite the turmoil your little messages had thrown him into.
Sure, he had intended to push you to act, to reveal the nature of your feelings.
Yet that had left Jamil woefully unprepared for this.
Jamil stared at his phone again, barely remembering to blink or breathe, nearly colliding head-first with some other students.
Finally, he typed out a message.
Are you serious?
Your reply was almost immediate.
Yes
Jamil fidgeted with the strings of his hood, watching the little bubble that told him you were still typing.
Sorry for being a coward and not asking in person.
If you don't feel the same way we can just pretend this never happened.
Oh how Jamil wished he could see your expression right now, could talk to you in person, get to the bottom of this.
Or would it be better to respond to you in text, without worries of stumbling over his words, or getting caught in your eyes like a deer in headlights?
Jamil started writing a reply, frowned and erased it, began to compose another.
He took a deep breath, briefly lifting his eyes from the phone to check where he was going.
What did he have planned for today, anyway? How much time could he clear for you?
Mind abuzz with plans, Jamil tried again.
Can I come over later? I’ll bring something to eat.
I’d rather talk this over in private first, if that’s okay with you.
A few more messages, setting the time, assuring you that he was not opposed to your proposal. Then Jamil shoved the phone into his pocket, reviewing his options.
He’d make something quick for Kalim’s dinner while preparing something to share with you. (What could he make with the time and ingredients he had that you really liked? What about dessert? He knew how much you enjoyed sweets, after all.)
Kalim had no homework deadlines or quizzes tomorrow, and Jamil’s own schoolwork schedule had room for adjustment, as well. They could catch up later. (He’d have to make sure he looked impeccable. Would flowers be too much? Would he have the time to visit Sam’s for them?)
Jamil might have to get up a little early tomorrow for a few things, but he’d deal with that tomorrow. (What if you’d let him stay late? How close would you let him tonight? Would you let him hold you? Maybe even kiss you?)
When Jamil realized that he was standing in front of Sam’s shop instead of the mirror to Scarabia, he simply stared at the storefront for a moment, uncomprehending.
Then Jamil shook his head, frowning.
He’d have to focus, keep his mind on target. He couldn’t afford to mess this up.
Yet, despite his best efforts, Jamil salted the food twice, having to scramble to fix the flavor. When he left Scarabia he nearly left behind the small package he’d picked up at Sam’s, forced to turn back to retrieve.
And when he walked over to your dorm, Jamil had to consciously tell himself to slow down, lest he’d appear too frazzled by the time he made it.
Mentally, Jamil berated himself. Get a grip! After everything Kalim has thrown your way, you can definitely handle this.
Yet, Jamil still had to steel himself before he rapped on your door.
Jamil’s greeting nearly caught in his throat when he saw you.
He could see the effort you’d put in, dressing up a little, yet more than that it was all those emotions swirling on your features that took his breath away. The nervous excitement which had you fidget in place, the radiance in your smile, the way your eyes seemed to drink him in…
Jamil cleared his throat, determined to not drown in you.
“Thank you for accepting me on such short notice,” Jamil said, handing you a small, neatly wrapped box.
With a thrilling sense of satisfaction Jamil noted the way your eyes widened, how your voice wavered when you invited him in. How you smiled when you found out what he had picked out for you, the gift clearly finding its mark.
Still, you were both stepping around each other, following the scripts of a regular visit when this felt like anything but.
Jamil took out the food he’d made, insisted he’d help you with setting the table despite your protests.
It was an awkward dance, both of you trying to regain your footing.
“I just… feel like I have to say it,” you finally said as you were setting out the food. “That I like you. A lot. So…”
The way you spoke, pouring out your feelings, hesitant and nervous as you were…
Yes, Jamil had wanted to talk this over in person, had wanted to see and hear you say it. Still, now he had just as much trouble meeting your eyes as you had, both of you busying yourselves with the tableware.
You were so nervous, and Jamil felt the urge to pull you close and chase away all your worries.
But he would not push.
Not when he had his hands full keeping his own self under control.
A part of him couldn’t help but feel like he’d deceived you, somehow, for you to hold him in such regard.
And when the silence lingered… What could he even say?
Jamil had thought of it, sure, imagined how you’d react to his words… But at this moment nothing would rise to his tongue, all the carefully picked words gone from his mind.
Jamil took your hand, holding it in between both of his. He spoke your name, oh so softly, his voice cracking under the weight of it.
Hearing himself made Jamil cringe, yet he pushed on.
“I’m… I am glad to know we both want the same. That we feel the same.”
For a brief moment, Jamil hesitated. Then he raised your hand to his lips, softly kissing your knuckles. His eyes flicked to yours, full of those feelings that threatened to sweep him under.
Just him being here with you like this… It told you enough, didn’t it?
Your blush certainly seemed to suggest so.
Jamil would make sure to cause your cheeks to burn brighter. Later.
Once his own face stopped feeling like a hot plate under the sun.
* * *
Later, you sat side by side on the couch, Jamil’s arm wrapped around your shoulders and your head resting against him.
You’d hardly stopped smiling the whole evening, and Jamil could feel the hurt in his own cheeks. 
It was strange, giving into those urges Jamil had been doing his best to hold back all this time.
Still, he had to admit that it was easier trying to move with the current rather than fighting against it.
Yes, the looks you gave him were still overwhelming, your words - and touch - sending his heart aflutter almost painfully.
When you sang his praises, looking at him like your happiness depended on him… It really was just a tidal wave, one far too large for Jamil to withstand.
Yet, finally, Jamil was beginning to allow himself to enjoy it all.
These things - your sweetness, your warmth - were only for him, after all. A heady thought, something that made him greedy for even more despite the overwhelming nature of it all.
Of course, Jamil still didn’t want to overstep.
Truthfully, he himself wasn’t ready for some of the scenarios tugging at the back of his mind.
With the wisdom of hindsight it seemed that you had always been ahead of Jamil, more aware of your feelings than he was of his.
Perhaps even more aware of his feelings than Jamil had been, considering how you’d pursued him - because that was what you had been doing, all this time.
Even if Jamil himself had been too busy contending with his own thoughts to truly see it.
Still, it was difficult even for Jamil to worry about such things with your warmth pressed against his side. Jamil played with your hair, let himself just soak up your presence.
And in that sweet moment Jamil finally stopped fighting, at least for a moment. He let go of his plans, his resistance, and allowed himself to be swept up by you.
Indeed, it hardly felt like he had a choice in the matter.
ETA: you can find the final / 5th part of this series here. This sure stayed in my drafts longer than I thought it would, but here we are. There’s still one more part coming and then we’ll be reaching the end of this particular journey. If you'd like to be tagged in my future works, do let me know! Jamil: alright I need to make sure they want to be with me and then I can move forward Reader: I’ve been trying to get with you for a while now and I can’t wait any longer or Jamil: I gotta gain control over this situation Reader: surprise :)
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bluespiritshonour · 6 months
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here's 18-19 year old aang sketches. been hearing aang is ugly discourse—no he ain't. he was just 12.
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fromtheseventhhell · 7 months
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"I have no sister." The words were knives. What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister? | Jon VI
--metaphorical knives at feigning neutrality regarding his sister
Jon fell to his knees. He found the dagger's hilt and wrenched it free. In the cold night air the wound was smoking. "Ghost," he whispered. Pain washed over him. Stick them with the pointy end. When the third dagger took him between the shoulder blades, he gave a grunt and fell face-first into the snow. He never felt the fourth knife. Only the cold... | Jon XIII
--literal knives from breaking that neutrality to save her
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mikakuna · 2 months
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actually the thing that pisses me off when fandom talks about the titans tower incident isn't even just that people wildly misinterpret/overreact to it, but that they only care about it because it happened to tim
half the other unhinged shit jason has done towards heroes (beautiful and spectacular) is like. never brought up. the titans tower incident is just tim fans' way of angsting up their blank canvas
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aeymii · 3 months
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Unrequited
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akai-anna · 2 months
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Round 3
Round: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8
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amanitacurses · 6 months
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