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#lost to time. anyway
ajs-art · 2 years
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they're best friends your honor
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#crow#carrion#thats a bold faced lie btw they are not.#carrion doesnt like crow but she IS its best friend#however carrion is not crow's best friend nor frankly are they her friend at all lol#probably crow's best friend if i had to actually flay it open would be like. max i think.#or atticus. i think unfortunately hes not mean enough to keep up with the best friend role as dearly as we all love him#you (reading this) love atticus.#summer and i say this with the deepest sorrow in my heart is discounted from the best friend position#on the basis that due to unfortunate circumstances technically she did fuck the closest thing crow ever had to a father (derogatory)#they both try not to acknowledge or think about it ever#actually i forgot about this but a lot of what early early early firstdays crow got up to was kust.#just* showing up where That Guy was and trying to bail him out of fatal situations#like there was a thing with a guy and a bat once and then the whole whatever fucking asteroid shit.dont remember details and the records r#lost to time. anyway#its funny that basically what shes doing now which is showing up and bailing ppl out of their problems#is what she was doing in the first place when she had basically no identity#ya so summers out. tony is himself.#kiki is off somewhere being mean to people and solving mysteries or whatever the fuck#+ those four are basically the only four that are contemporary enough with her creation in real time to respect as equals lol.#so its gotta b max#also backtracking its not a problem for crow that summer is dating lauren thats fine.its just that guy
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the fact that shakespeare was a playwright is sometimes so funny to me. just the concept of the "greatest writer of the English language" being a random 450-year-old entertainer, a 16th cent pop cultural sensation (thanks in large part to puns & dirty jokes & verbiage & a long-running appeal to commoners). and his work was made to be watched not read, but in the classroom teachers just hand us his scripts and say "that's literature"
just...imagine it's 2450 A.D. and English Lit students are regularly going into 100k debt writing postdoc theses on The Simpsons screenplays. the original animation hasn't even been preserved, it's literally just scripts and the occasional SDH subtitles.txt. they've been republished more times than the Bible
#due to the Great Data Decay academics write viciously argumentative articles on which episodes aired in what order#at conferences professors have known to engage in physically violent altercations whilst debating the air date number of household viewers#90% of the couch gags have been lost and there is a billion dollar trade in counterfeit “lost copies”#serious note: i'll be honest i always assumed it was english imperialism that made shakespeare so inescapable in the 19th/20th cent#like his writing should have become obscure at the same level of his contemporaries#but british imperialists needed an ENGLISH LANGUAGE (and BRITISH) writer to venerate#and shakespeare wrote so many damn things that there was a humongous body of work just sitting there waiting to be culturally exploited...#i know it didn't happen like this but i imagine a English Parliament House Committee Member For The Education Of The Masses or something#cartoonishly stumbling over a dusty cobwebbed crate labelled the Complete Works of Shakespeare#and going 'Eureka! this shall make excellent propoganda for fabricating a national identity in a time of great social unrest.#it will be a cornerstone of our elitist educational institutions for centuries to come! long live our decaying empire!'#'what good fortune that this used to be accessible and entertaining to mainstream illiterate audience members...#..but now we can strip that away and make it a difficult & alienating foundation of a Classical Education! just like the latin language :)'#anyway maybe there's no such thing as the 'greatest writer of x language' in ANY language?#maybe there are just different styles and yes levels of expertise and skill but also a high degree of subjectivity#and variance in the way that we as individuals and members of different cultures/time periods experience any work of media#and that's okay! and should be acknowledged!!! and allow us to give ourselves permission to broaden our horizons#and explore the stories of marginalized/underappreciated creators#instead of worshiping the List of Top 10 Best (aka Most Famous) Whatevers Of All Time/A Certain Time Period#anyways things are famous for a reason and that reason has little to do with innate “value”#and much more to do with how it plays into the interests of powerful institutions motivated to influence our shared cultural narratives#so i'm not saying 'stop teaching shakespeare'. but like...maybe classrooms should stop using it as busy work that (by accident or designs)#happens to alienate a large number of students who could otherwise be engaging critically with works that feel more relevant to their world#(by merit of not being 4 centuries old or lacking necessary historical context or requiring untaught translation skills)#and yeah...MAYBE our educational institutions could spend less time/money on shakespeare critical analysis and more on...#...any of thousands of underfunded areas of literary research i literally (pun!) don't know where to begin#oh and p.s. the modern publishing world is in shambles and it would be neat if schoolwork could include modern works?#beautiful complicated socially relevant works of literature are published every year. it's not just the 'classics' that have value#and actually modern publications are probably an easier way for students to learn the basics. since lesson plans don't have to include the#important historical/cultural context many teens need for 20+ year old media (which is older than their entire lived experience fyi)
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mumblesplash · 5 months
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i say if you’re gonna have the mysterious entities speak in rhyme you might as well commit (EDIT: part 2!)
(posting an unprecedented Part 1 of At Least 3 bc i actually have the entire script and most of the storyboarding for this done already)
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yabakuboi · 1 month
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Steve watched Eddie's van turn the corner and shut the front door, closing himself away from the outside world so none of his neighbors could see him as he rested his forehead against the painted wood.
"I'm not going to cry," he told himself.
He said it even as his eyes began to burn and his face began to twist, teeth grinding and throat closing. He wiped quickly at his face, again and again, as he stumbled to the couch to sit, drying each tear as it rolled down his cheeks, clinging to his jaw.
"I'm not going to fucking cry," Steve choked, and then doubled over into himself, arms around his thighs, and he began to sob.
So what if he was twenty-two, living in his parent's house alone, working the same dead-end job with a sixteen year old manager. So what if all his friends and family were in college, spread out from New York to Chicago to Los Angeles. So what if his boyfriend was moving to Seattle for his band and they broke up, because Steve was never going to be his parents, resenting and being resented for keeping his partner from his dreams. So what if he was too scared to ask Eddie to stay, to ask Eddie if Steve could go with him. So what if everyone moved on and Steve couldn't?
Steve grew up lonely. He could get used to it again.
He didn't realize how hard he was crying until the front door burst back open and Eddie hurled himself at Steve's feet, long limbed and clumsy and babbling.
"Baby, oh fuck, I'm sorry," he said, already untangling Steve from himself, tying all his loose ends back up together with his until they were a knot of their own. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Stevie. I never should have— I wanted to—"
"I'm sorry," Steve sobbed back. He gasped and swallowed it all back down. Eddie had already gotten them raveled up again, it would take forever to pick it back apart. Steve knew it would hurt worse this time. "Fuck, Ed, you didn't have to— I'll be okay, I don't want to hold you back—"
"Come with me," Eddie burst.
And Steve couldn't help himself, and began to sob again.
"Please," Eddie begged over Steve's crying, his voice shaking and his face wet enough to match Steve's. "Please, sweetheart, honey, please just come with me?"
Steve took a shaky breath, embarrassed and now too full of hope and fear. "You sure?" he whispered. He pressed his face into Eddie's neck, breathing him in again for what might be the last time, again. "Eddie, don't—"
"I'm so sure," Eddie said. "I'm so fucking sure, Steve, please."
"Okay," Steve breathed. Eddie had always been the braver of the two of them, especially when it counted. Steve leaned back so he could look at him, red faced and watery eyes. He tried to give Eddie a smile, but he knew it was wobbly and weak. "Okay."
All of Steve's fears meant nothing as he watched the happiness break like dawn over Eddie's face.
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clouvu · 1 month
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Save me french yuri... Save me
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ruporas · 5 months
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kisses of affirmation (ID in alt)
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amelia-yap · 4 months
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guys v10 leak
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wyvernity · 22 days
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been thinking about the sinnohtrio lately......plus misc other stuff
also, casual ko-fi drop!! get something in this sketchy style starting at $10 woop woop
#finally decided to do a commission test run u_u#pokemon#trainer lyra#trainer kris#trainer dawn#trainer lucas#rival barry#rival silver#ayalumi#hisuian zorua#luxio#timeskip tag#rkgk#anyway it's sinnoh time !!!#still figuring out their designs and lore but this works for now#god's specialest little guys & their very normal bestfriend who they would kill/die for. up to interpretation who is killing/dying#dawn is the platinum protag who meets giratina and becomes champion#distortion world affected her way more than compared to cynthia and cyrus since she's still a developing kid. but hey cool ghost hair!#4-5 yrs later lucas gets blasted to hisui..lost his memory for the three years he's there and when arceus sends him back he's just like Man#the entire time barry is CHILLING PLAYING HAVING FUN#and forever worried abt his friends ): dawn & lucas are soo nonchalant about what happened to them it's a bit concerning to everyone else#design comments umm the only thing that matters is that they still have their og scarves 👍#and i guesss these are spring/summer outfits. winter dawn gets leggings and big coat ok. she already has too much yin energy#btw i use the cleanse tag as the direct opposition to the spell tag even tho that's probably not a real thing LOL)#oh yea barry wears the tower master ribbon 24/7. tower tycoon in training and won't shut up about it (i love him)#character dynamics i will talk abt that in another post if i feel like it... these days i just want to go replay pla aughh
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caemidraws · 6 months
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I hope you know we had everything
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splankie · 8 days
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is blowing up a volcano after ur first kiss couple goals
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gal-o-guacamole · 3 months
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●Radiant is Gabriel●
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Feb.2024 (stained and artistic glass, copper, lead, gold and silver paint)
Process pics + vid ↷
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solarisfortuneia · 2 months
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— 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬.
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and the smell of camphor dancing in the wind.
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✦ 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.)
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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.” 
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✦ 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.
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g0blinh0urs · 10 months
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i randomly made this connection in my head aND NOW I CANT UNSEE IT
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egophiliac · 3 months
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BIRD SSR????????????
NOOOO I wasted all my keys on Platinum Malleus, HOW CAN THEY DO THIS TO ME
(I do kinda love that this is officially "Raven Jacket" Crowley though) (does this open up the possibility of a selection of future Crowley fashion cards)
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ruporas · 9 months
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all I wanted was to save them... (ID in alt)
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rongzhi · 3 months
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English added by me :)
Further Details:
In 2014, while digging ground to construct the Number 7 line for the Chengdu metro, a 2300 square meter tomb with 13 graves was dug up near Mohechi (摩诃池), the former back gardens of the Prince's mansion in Sichuan (蜀王府). Of the 13 chambers in the tomb, most were single graves, and some had been plundered or were difficult to get to. Chamber #8 was found to have its seal still closed and in decent condition, with archeologists speculating that the area had been subject to earthquakes in the past, and robbers skipped over the chamber because they were afraid of the walls collapsing if the heavy stone door was moved. Chamber #8 was also discovered to contain two rooms and the engraving of a dragon and phoenix, indicating that whoever the tomb belonged to were of relatively high status.
While the royal mausoleum of the prince of Sichuan had long been unearthed, the new joint grave was originally thought to be the tomb of an aristocratic husband and wife, as the type of tomb was typical of a husband and wife pair. The area where the new tomb had been discovered was also known long ago as 公公坟 (the eunuch graves). Other tombs of court eunuchs buried around Chengdu had been discovered in 1953, 1955, 1956, 2003, 2005, and 2008.
At the same time, experts noticed that the porcelain relics buried in the Chamber #8 all shared an unusual characteristic: the male figurines had no facial hair. This led to the realisation that the figurines depicted eunuchs. Additionally, two stone tablets were eventually located which turned out to be the epitaphs for the graves, and which allowed the archeologists to confirm that the tomb did indeed belong to two imperial eunuchs from the Ming dynasty. Moreover, the tablets revealed that the eunuchs were named Wei Yu (魏玉, b.1470) and Ruan Ying (阮英, b. 1472). Both were born from poor farming families in Tongzhou (潼州; present day northern Sichuan province).
In the fourteenth year of Chenghua, there was a huge drought in the nation, so both children were sent by their families to become eunuchs in the palace as a means to survive. Being from the same area and around the same age, they would grow to become very close.
In the Ming dynasty, imperial eunuchs had great power, such that they were in charge of many government and even military affairs. Due to this, Wei Yu and Ruan Ying did not stay in Beijing to serve the emperor but instead eventually ended up as chief eunuchs in Shuwangfu, the center of government in Sichuan. Based on the epitaph and historical materials, historians concluded that Wei Yu and Ruan Ying did not necessarily overstep their power as is often the depiction of court eunuchs of the era, and in fact, they cooperated very well with the Zhu Chun, the prince of Sichuan and Hongwu Emperor's 11th son, assisting him to repair infrastructure and bringing prosperity to the people of Chengdu.
Wei Yu was favored by the prince for being clever and witty, and was bestowed the surname Shuang, so is also referred to in records as Shuang Yu (双玉). As Wei Yu's status grew, Ruan Ying's did as well.
In the 10th year of Zhengde (1515), having experienced some rough times, Wei Yu and Ruan Ying decided they wanted to be buried together and and obtained royal permission for it to be so. As they had no children, they were able to accumulate all their earnings (imperial servants were paid) and buy a plot of land. One year later, Ruan Ying passed away and Wei Yu had a tomb built with two rooms so that they could be buried together. Ten years later, when he passed away also, Wei Yu was buried with Ruan Ying, fulfilling their desire to be entombed together.
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Additional sources:
https://www.sohu.com/a/413776430_120795605
https://m.thepaper.cn/yidian_promDetail.jsp?contid=3744568&from=yidian
https://www.toutiao.com/article/6706734279713358350/?wid=1705638571420
video (in Chinese)
video (in Chinese)
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