#Where is the time going so quickly

[oculusxcaro]

While Khare's sense of taste has been heavily altered, she can still taste one sweet product - honey. This is due to it still being an animal product what with being made by bees and while it doesn't taste quite like how she remembers, she can still perceive the flavour to some level.

[mammalsofaction]

Someone pointed out to me in one of my posts that the reason Perry was SO pissed off during OWCA files was bc he's jealous Heinz was spending time with so much of his co-workers, and Ive since been thinking about this and I genuinely hate how much this makes sense.

Obviously that isn't the ONLY reason, but. This is the second recorded time where Heinz ends up working for OWCA and BOTH times Perry spends the entire episode inexplicably grumpy and pissed.

You COULD say it's bc he's wary, he doesn't trust Heinz to behave professionally as an agent when he takes so much pride as an agent himself and incompetency pisses him off (true). Also that Heinz is lumped as his responsibility, and agent Lone Wolf hates being saddled to a person.....but these arguments crumble in light for a few facts.

1. Perry doesn't have THAT much respect for OWCA, and certainly not Francis, ESPECIALLY if they piss him off. See the aftermath of Undercover Carl. Its not a respect issue.

2. Perry knows what Heinz is like. He LIKES spending time with Heinz, and as early as the events in "Come Home Perry," HE knows that he can trust Heinz to always have his back. Its not a trust issue.

3. Perry is hugely supportive of Heinz reforming, and in MML, it's HIS money being the first and foremost funds provider for Heinz to start a time travelling agency. He likes Heinz turning tide fine, so long as he doesn't shut Perry out or leave him behind. It's not a Being Good issue.

So why was he pissed off?? Well. What's the ONE thing that upsets Perry, without fail, when it comes to his loved ones that isn't them being in undeniable danger.

Sharing. Perry hates sharing.

[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.

[turtleblogatlast]

Something I like about Leo is that he’s honestly really chill? It’s easy to remember the moments where he’s being obnoxious or excitable but I feel like most of the time he’s incredibly “go with the flow” and has an overall affable demeanor.

[vitrall]

I don't think Jayce and Viktor literally died. They were kind of pulled into another dimension/astral plane/whatever you call it. We see older Viktor, and while it could be another Viktor, I think it would be more meaningful if it was our Viktor, finally free from the arcane, going through the universe with Jayce, fixing timelines together. Kind of like a cosmic mission.

[tariah23]

One of the main reasons why I used to avoid Isekai’s, and fantasy works in general, like the plague is because of how over saturated they’d become with things that didn’t feel like they even belonged to the genre to begin with… it’s not too hard to find works that stand out but so much of those works have been pushed down and forgotten, it just sucks.

[mo-ok]

🖤 cool guys and cowboys 🖤

🌠

[urfavisananimegirl]

walter white from breaking bad

Walter Hartwell White (Breaking Bad) is an Anime Girl!

[cementcornfield]

[Joe's] always been a factor in my play. We've always been on the same page. I've always been a factor in his play. We just happen to be on the same page, same timing. Thinking the same thing. We always talk to each other first. That's how we're so good.

[justaz]

merlin being forced to confront the fact that he’s failing his people bc he’s sitting idly by while uther slaughters them all and coming to the decision that he has to act to save them but that’ll make him camelot enemy no. 1 but technically he already was they just didn’t know it. merlin spending a week all morose but unwilling to talk about it and spending as much time with his friends as possible. on his last night in camelot, he goes to arthur’s chambers and the prince is confused on why he’s there. merlin drops a sealed letter on his desk before pulling arthur into a gentle and emotional kiss. they barely separate, their lips hardly a breath apart, and merlin asks for forgiveness. arthur, thinking he’s apologizing for the kiss, tells him there’s nothing to forgive and goes in for a second kiss but merlin pulls away, knowing that that one brief kiss was all he could handle. if he lets arthur kiss him the way he’s dreamt of being kissed, he won’t be able to do what he needs to do, he won’t be able to leave. merlin tells him good night and leaves before arthur can react. he’s gone by dawn.

[dirt-grub]

Charlie gets jealous really REALLY easily but when Pim gets jealous he’s absolutely insane. Charlie will forget until it happens again but Pim will be silently bitter forever

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

"Can you shut the fuck up for a second!" Pony's fists are clenched so hard the knuckles are white 'n Steve thinks suddenly it's probably a good thing the kid bites at his nails or they'd be diggin' into his palms.

"No, you little punk. What's your problem?" Steve's not really angry yet. He's still pokin' half-heartedly mostly on instinct then any real urge to piss the kid off. The problem is that Pony is decidedly way over the aggravated line 'n into pissed without any help from Steve at all.

"I just had a shitty fuckin' day ok! How about you mind your business! Actually, why don't you hang out at your own house? You're wanted there just as much as here." Somethin' flashes across Steve's face 'n he narrows his eyes. Pony's flushed, chest heavin', a look of triumph on his face.

"You take that shit back." Steve balls his hands up, forces himself to stay down on the couch instead of marchin' over 'n puttin' the kid on his fuckin' head.

"No." Pony tilts his head 'n flashes a cold smile Steve just knows he picked up from Dallas. Steve takes a long breath. Remembers that Pony has a tendency to be cruel 'n not mean any of it when he was livid like this.

He's fourteen, Steve. Do you remember fourteen? Darry had told him after one of their regular matches. And he did. The problem was that Steve hadn't said mean shit. He just knocked the offender on his ass. Pony's mouth was too smart for his own good.

"You know what? You don't get to take your shit out on me, actually. Fuck off." Steve settles back on the sofa, turns back to the TV like he can pay any attention. God, where was Darry when you needed him. He'd probably collapse from the shock of it.

See, Steve contents himself with imagin' his face, I can be the bigger man. But then it's spoiled some since Steve can clearly hear Darry's took you long enough, you're only three years older than the kid.

"The fuck? Steve c'mon." Pony finally drops his school bag, right in the middle of the floor where Darry's gonna holler at him when he trips over it later, 'n takes half a step toward Steve. Like he's wheedlin' for a fight.

"C'mon? Glory, Pony. What's your fuckin' problem?"

"I don't have a fuckin' problem! Ok! You're the one with the problem!" Pony's voice is hittin' an all-time high, shrill note of frustration. Steve tears his eyes off the TV, rollin' 'em with a sigh, but now that he's lookin' at Pony he can see the way his eyes are rimmed red 'n his lip is bleedin' from him bitin' at it.

"Pony? Chill out kid, what's goin' on?" Pony does not chill out. In fact, it only serves to get him more frustrated.

"Nothin'! Nothin' is goin' on! Ok! I just don't know why you always have to be here 'n actin' like that 'n in my house- 'n- 'n-" Suddenly hot tears are streakin' down Pony's face 'n he's scrubbin' them away with nails bit down so far they're bleedin'.

"Pony?" Oh, Jesus. Where is Darry when you need him? Steve flies to his feet 'n Pony flinches back like he suddenly doesn't want the fight he's been askin' for. "Oh, glory kid."

"Just leave me the fuck alone. I'm fine!" Steve grabs Pony's wrists 'n hesitates awkwardly. He wasn't used to havin' to comfort the kid 'n he was way out of his zone. So he just moves on instinct, pullin' the kid to his chest like he's watched Darry do a hundred times.

For a moment Pony stiffens up 'n holds his hands out like he's not sure what to do with them, a weak little sob half caught in his throat. Then Steve wraps him up maybe a little too tight 'n Pony lets himself go limp.

"Let me go, Steve!" Pony wails like he doesn't have his face buried in Steve's shirt, leanin' so hard against him Steve's gotta work to keep him on his feet.

"Fine." Steve squeezes him again 'n then unceremoniously drops him. Pony's on the floor before he knows what's happenin' 'n Steve crouches down 'n puts a hand on his shoulder to keep him there. Pony goes to scramble to his feet 'n Steve pushes him back down, gently. "You wanna tell me what's goin' on?"

Pony blinks at him, eyes wide 'n hair wild 'n Steve can abruptly see him at eight, runnin' to Steve 'cause he'd scraped his knee 'n didn't want to tell Darry 'cause he'd told him to put on jeans if he was gonna ride his bike. Steve had made him give him his dessert in exchange for silence but had snuck the first aid kit out the bathroom window 'n wrapped it up real good.

"I dunno..." Pony scrapes again at the tears fallin' down his face 'n Steve bats his hand away, pullin' his handkerchief from his pocket 'n pressin' it none too gently across Pony's cheeks. "Knock that off." Pony snatches it from Steve 'n wipes at his own face.

"Glory, someone's in a mood." Apparently, it was too soon for that.

"I am not! Look, Steve, I can handle it myself. I don't need your bullshit." Pony pushes himself up 'n Steve easily grabs his wrist 'n yanks him back down.

"Fine, you don't need my help which, by the way, I wasn't offerin'. I just think if I'm gonna get hollered at on my day off I should get to know why." Pony narrows his eyes, scowlin' hard before droppin' his sulk down to his lap.

"It's nothin'. I just- I dunno, sometimes I just, when I-ugh!" Pony throws his hands up, makes a low angry sound in the back of his throat. "I just had a bad fuckin' day 'cause like, I just, it's-"

Oh. Steve thinks. Ok. I know that.

"If you don't know... like, what it is-" Pony goes to cut him off 'n Steve whacks him on the hand 'n barrels on. "Or if you know what it is but you don't know how to like... say it. Don't worry about it. I'm not gonna make you figure it out."

Pony blinks at him again 'n Steve drops his hand off his shoulder. "Well. Alright." 'N just like that Pony wipes the remain' tears away, clambers up, 'n offers Steve a hand. Man, if the kid couldn't bounce back from anythin'. Steve tries to remember if he'd ever been like that. But he remembered fourteen 'n he'd always been more of a sulker.

"We good, kid?" Steve eyes him 'n Pony shrugs, shoots him a mischievously little grin Steve knows he got from Soda.

"Sure, as long as you get me dinner."

"Oh sure," He pulls Pony under his arm 'n messes up his hair 'n Pony whines," as long as you're payin'. After all it is your house."

[bonefall]

You could play with the dirty part of the canon description by having Slash and his people roll in mud to hide their scent.

Parts of the Code labelling using weapons/traps as dishonorable could have started as agreements made that Slash's people wouldn't keep using their old tactics, maybe forced on Thunder's Clan to keep them from becoming too powerful, if they DID fuse.

I'm more liable to just remove the "dirty" thing entirely honestly; I just think it's so shitty I'd like to nuke it from orbit, you get me? Every single time they want you to hate someone, they make them fat and/or stinky. I'd rather just put that kind of rhetoric in the mouths of cats like Clear Sky and The Wind Runner, a lie to demonize their enemies, not really based on truth.

I think I might take the trap stuff though; that actually fits in nicely with how ThunderClan's the only one that uses spears. I won't have it be code yet, though, that's going to come a lot later. First two commandments of the code are Borders + Mercy, followed by Law 3 when Riverstar dies in some decades.

Also gonna need a name for Slash's new group. Hey, maybe THESE guys can be called Warriors, actually. Warriors of the Forest, like what the first arc used to be called before it was renamed TPB.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

mentally preparing myself for a switch from cherik to chax if the mcu x-men follow the comics direction

id be very surprised if people actually did- on a massive scale- switch to 'chax' when the majority, even comic readers, still call magneto erik i'll be tbh elkjaeklj BUT its not impossible ... probably ..

tho part of that may In Fact be due to the fact some people haven't learned that name yet. For Sure if it were used in the mcu/cartoons it'd become more common knowledge but still, i think most people would just stick with 'cherik' for convenience/familiarity

[canisalbus]

Vasco and Machete are absolutely adorable, your style is so lovely and you draw the softest beds I’ve ever seen in any art ever

.

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

oh i just felt my stomach drop. no...