#ew emotions

[jamminvroomvroom]

not to be mushy but. this was a big deal birthday for me. idk why but i just felt like it was a big thing happening and i think its bc im finally getting my life and health into some kind of order and im super proud of myself! there were so many times when i nearly didn’t make it to 21 and yet. bam. here i am, sexy as hell. got reaaaal sad and emotional but then i was like. no. life is okay actually.

[abyssmita]

crying

[stellawolfearts]

stellas gonna be cringe for a moment here.

holy shit im doing it. im writing again OHMYGODS IM WRITING AGAIN I MIGHTCRY IM FUCKING WRITING!

[cryptidfrenzy]

I had to delete the tumblr app for a while due to having no storage on my phone, but I’m back here now and seeing silly urls on my notifications feels so comforting wtf

[rk80060]

Every time someone calls me Connor or for whatever reason Nines I get a small existential crisis for three days

[ru1b0y]

,,I dont know what you expected us to do!”

,,Love me anyway.”

I saw the Tv glow from a young age, my peers and parents tried to turn it off and manages too at one point. Until my sister flipped on the channel for me asking what the colors mean. I haven’t seen them in years, so I guessed wrongly. I got closer to the TV as the years passed just recently letting it get brighter and brighter.

Never unplug your TV.

[pendragonstar]

trying to determine if i'm ace or just depressed is always fun

i'm so stressed atm but also i've like never been interested in dating but i think that's because nobody ever liked me growing up and people find me off-putting now

either way i have one more job application due in an hour and i haven't actually started the cover letter

[ihearttities]

heading into another downwards spiral 😋

(i can't breath lmao)

[seshisunshi]

the reference

the final sketch

[justanotherunstablewriter]

feeling shitty rn

That moment were your assumptions fail you

[mysticsoldiersailorhylia]

Wiping at that place deep in my chest like I've got something on my shirt: Ew get these emotions off me

[lovely-w0unds]

I might properly finish this someday. (It’s my first ‘proper’ animation and you can SEE it is lmao)

[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.

[holy-reference-in-a-username]

can we see tom going manic?

this request has been in my askbox for months and i never knew what to draw for it but ✨ guess who had a manic episode this week ✨

[joicecubes]

this started as a twitter post but it got way too long

i feel. INSANE. ABOUT FIDDLESTAN YOU GUYS. i’ll admit i didn’t get it at first, like the original concept seems kinda bonkers, they never interact! what a silly rarepair! BUT NO. I SAW A SINGLE PIECE OF FANART AND IT WAS OVER FOR ME. IM HOOKED. im sorry i need to talk about them

my favorite set-up for fiddlestan, and the one i see most people going with, is the idea that fiddleford comes back to ford’s house after ford’s already been sucked through the portal, so he finds stan instead. and thats like such perfect/devastating (depending on how you look at it) timing because their wounds from ford are both so raw.

i feel like this is gonna get long so. gay rambling under the cut

on the one hand, they get from each other what they never got from ford. or at least, what they lost from ford. fiddleford wants love, he wants his unwavering devotion to ford to be reciprocated. and stan, being such a deeply lonely person, can give him that! what he wants is companionship. he wants a friend, like what he had in his brother. he wants forgiveness. and god, fiddleford is one of the kindest, most forgiving characters in the show. if anyone will see where stan is coming from, if anyone can extend forgiveness and understanding where ford fell flat, it’s fiddleford.

and while this exemplifies just how deeply they would need each other in this scenario, when you think about how tightly they both clung to ford, there presents a very real possibility that one or both of them would feel like ford’s replacement.

stan is ford’s twin. people have played with the idea that fiddleford would see a lot ford in stan, even though they may not be very similar in demeanor. they look the same. and deep down, they do have similarities. alex hirsch said in a dvd commentary that there is more of ford in stan than he even realizes, and fiddleford would probably see that. not to mention just how deeply he would miss him.

and when stan has always felt like a worse version of ford, you can imagine he might feel like a stand-in, especially as him and fiddleford get closer. fiddleford, whether he means to or not, would definitely see his best friend in stan. he has his face for god’s sake!! and would stan just accept it? would he be upset to be seen in this light, to act as a replacement, or would he accept that he’ll always be second to ford? either way is just. DEVASTATING. for fiddleford to unintentionally confirm all of stan’s deepest fears and insecurities…

and then there’s what fiddleford is to stan. while i don’t think fiddleford would feel as deeply a replacement as stan does, he IS a big fucking nerd. and stan probably begged him for help getting ford back when he found out that fiddleford is not only a scientist, but worked on the portal in the first place. and he of course wants ford back too, but it wouldn’t surprise me if fiddleford ends up feeling like stan only keeps him around for that purpose and that purpose alone. to learn more about ford, to live vicariously through him as ford’s best friend. because stan is desperate to know more about him, to satiate this need, this wound of missing his brother for over a decade.

god and all the little things too… fiddleford being riddled with anxiety and stan being able to ground him, to knock some much-needed sense into him the next time he wants to pick up that memory gun. stan struggling to take care of himself, to see his own self worth, and fiddleford being there to make sure he eats enough food, reminds him to shower, helps wash or cut his unkempt hair. falling asleep holding each other, because they need that comfort, that warmth, that heartbeat, to feel okay enough to rest.

ugh you could do sooo much with these bitches it drives me up the wall. i feel so unwell just thinking about them. i could yap even more but i’ll keep that for another post