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mosspapi · 6 months

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hai ok prefacing this by saying i know ur not a medical doctor butttt im just getting community input i guess so i have some form of motor/vocal tics and like. idk i definitely wouldnt say it's a CONSCIOUS decision for me to tic (like jerking my arm or whatever) but i feel it impending... like i know im going to tic within the next second or wutever. or there's like this looming energy that i will tic.

im wondering if im gaslighting myself into thinking that it's not conscious decision when it actually is, if that makes sense. like if i am subconsciously deciding to jerk my arm. i wonder that then i'll hold a skewer and accidentally stab myself with it without realizing until it happened lol like... input pretty please? i guess what i want you to answer is if you know of some factor that will let yourself know whether or not you're ticcing on purpose. or something like that. pretty please. this has been going on for 3 years but it stopped happening for over half a year and there's been breaks in between, does this sound like tourettes to you? it's just so confusing cuz i have no reason to tic, it's genuinely so annoying

dont answer anything ur not comfortable with of course, im just kinda at a loss and i'll ask my parents to go to a neurologist or something soon. thank you so much by the way

Hello anon! No worries, ur all good. And that's definitely a very common thing with Tourette's as far as I'm aware- like for me it won't be every tic, but I can definitely tell when it's gonna happen for a lot of them. I've even been thru a whole branch of therapy dedicated to helping notice those warning signs and being able to counteract the tic if it's smth hurtful/dangerous (like I had one that was punching myself in the head which. Isn't ideal lmao. So we spent a few weeks finding out how it felt to do the tic, where it came from, how I noticed it, etc, and developing an "inverse" action to do instead so it wouldn't happen as much, such as stretching my arm if the tic felt like tension, if that makes sense).

It's also very common that thinking about a tic will make you tic when you have Tourette's, so if that's part of what's worrying you (IE "oh I'm just faking it/doing it on purpose without realizing because I do it when someone mentions it"), that's ironically a sign that it's Not fake lmao

And Tourette's does sort of come and go, there will be "better" times and "worse" times- I don't know for how long it's considered normal to be "better", so I can't say whether 6+ months of Nothing would make it not Tourette's, but it very well still could be, or at least some other tic disorder.

I would definitely recommend trying to see a professional abt it since there are potentially other causes for tics that aren't Tourette's, but at least from my personal experience it does very well sound like that's what it could be. Hopefully it all goes smoothly for u! And hopefully this all made sense lol, I'm a little tired atm so if anything is incoherent just lmk and I'll try again /g

#not sure if I should main-tag this with anything or not lmao #armchair answers

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cockneydio · 2 years

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it's rare i get upset over whatever clownfart this mess is. But, seems today is that the day where i get mildly agitated at it. Anyway looking for good advice to not throw down in the ballpit full of vomit. And, wishing everyone else here a better weekend.

Oh I didn't mean to upset you if that's what happened I apologize! I tend to forget I have a.....idk like an unusually unperturbable skin when it comes to internet shenanigans. It comes mostly from being in an industry full of people with terrible takes they get paid to say in public and other people who write anonymous comments on my stories that run the gamut from batshit to horseshit. So I've learned to not only not take any of this seriously, but also turn it into a form of entertainment (yes even when I'm being philosophical about it bc hi hello it's fandom it's a subculture I participate in by choice so either it's enjoyable or I don't do it).

My advice to you, tho, since that's not the kind of thing someone can just do, is put your phone down and go outside. Without it. Just stand there for 10 minutes if you can't or don't feel like walking. Go see what the bugs are doing, see if you can identify which bird in which tree is making the sound you notice the most, figure out what that smell is, look at how the needles on this cactus connect to the body differently than that other species. If you can do it safely, touch the bark of a couple different trees, and see how they vary. Is it sunny where you are? Humid? Chilly but pleasant? Colder than a witch's teat? Are the neighbors downstairs smoking again? Can you identify the loud song they're playing? If it's dark, can you see the stars? Which ones? How close is the moon to being full dya think? Keep looking at everything until your eyes adjust and you can see it all comfortably, listen until the sounds dull into a nice hum, breathe deeply until you don't notice different smells.

You'll find yourself paying attention to what's in front of you, what's around you, and the air you take into your body to keep you alive. And you'll forget, for a little while anyway, the trivial troubles of online drama. It's a grounding exercise that can really help you sort of reset your perspective. Hopefully on the back end, you might be able to see the ballpit full of vomit as a ballpit full of vomit that like...is straight up not worth your time.

#i hope this helps really and truly #it's a very uhhh armchair medatation < is that spelled right I don't think it is but I haven't the wherewithal to look it up 😭#meditation #omg #anyway it's just something I thought of. kind of 'touch grass' but yknow useful instead of mean lol #answered ask #anonymous #spam my askbox #i split some infinitives here it's gonna drive be nuts

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scuopsie · 3 months

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Oh my god....

Its kinda weird to celebrate this (bc his health situation must have been pretty severe) but SCOUPS IS REPORTEDLY EXCEPT FROM MILITARY SERVICE😭😭😭😭😭😭

#oh my GOD😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭#my prayers have been answered #i wasnt praying for this specifically #but the way everytime i start stanning someonew new theyre a few months away from leaving for military was so cruel...#ik its a long shot but if hannie gets excempt too ILL CRY TEARS OF JOY #i will say theres probably one major downside to this and its that salty armchairs will send him hate #bc their oppars did get excempt despite every shit they tried to pull to stop them from enlisting #anyway <3 happy march 1st! what a promising start

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gobbluthofficial · 10 months

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hate those posts that are like "oh you love vampires because you need someone to desire you" "you love werewolves because you want someone loyal" when was the last time you looked at literally any vampire or werewolf.

#like they're always gorgeous and wearing fancy period clothes #why don't we play armchair psychiatrist with the more intense monster fuckers #why does the fly (1986) turn me on? huh??? answer that.

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lurkingteapot · 11 months

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about the use of tones in romanized words: i feel like when you come from a language that has lots of tones (like portuguese or chinese) it's easier to learn other languages specially when you read a word with tones, not just romanized. i've been learning german and when google does things like "Erfáhrung" my mind clears i can suddenly pronounce it like a native (kind of). what do you think about this link?

Hi there!

I feel like there may be a misconception about what tones are here; bear with me if you know this and I'm just misreading your comment.

I'm oversimplifying, but when linguists talk about "tones" in a language, that's separate from intonation or stress. In a language that has tones—a tonal language—each sylllable has an inherent sound trajectory (a "pitch contour"), meaning the relative starting, mid, and end pitch of that syllable are part of its make-up that's invariable no matter whether it's being used in a question, a statement, a wheedling tone … etc. Two (or more) syllables that are identical in their consonants and vowels but not their pitch contour function as distinct syllables in a tonal language.

So keeping that in mind, I'm fairly sure Portuguese does not 'have tones', not in the sense that most Chinese languages or Thai or Vietnamese (or Yoruba or Cherokee) do. In writing, Portuguese does use diacritics (´,`,~,…) to denote vowel quality or stress, but from my understanding, "á" and "a" and "ã" are different vowel sounds, rather than the same sound on a different pitch curve.

That said! Being used to seeing diacritics as part of a distinct letter, rather than as something "tacked onto" a letter, probably helps when someone is trying to keep the differences clearer in their mind, so in that sense, sure, it might help! Knowledge of a tonal language also tends to help when acquiring another tonal language, just because the concept of "pitch contour is part and parcel, not optional" is already familiar.

Thank you for the ask, I hope this is what you were looking for :)

My personal experience with diacritics is sort of the opposite – growing up with a language that doesn't use them and then having learned to read hanyu pinyin made (and continues to make) reading diacritic-using Thai romanisation near impossible for me, because they'd use the same diacritics as hanyu pinyin, but use them to denote a different pitch contour – hanyu pinyin nǐ is not Paiboon nǐ, Paiboon ài is not hanyu pinyin ài, despite the vowel qualities (height, frontness, length) for both being similar … but I strongly suspect that's a me problem.

#asked and answered #thank you for the ask #linguistics #tonal languages #sound and writing #transcription #romanisation #romanization #armchair linguistics #I'm going on ten years out of grad school and really noticing just how badly my grasp of these things has atrophied #but I'm trying my best #my nonsense

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pellucid-constellations · 5 months

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Of Oblivious Minds

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: You're positive Azriel is in love with Elain. It seems so obvious. But Cassian is laughing at you and suddenly nothing makes quite so much sense anymore.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Pining, yearning, idiots in love?? (an angsty moment as well)

a/n: What am I doing!! I don't know!! This is part one and there will be one or two more parts :) Thank you for reading ily ♡

Part 2

You were having an epiphany—of that you were certain.

Sitting in the main room of the townhouse, a glass of wine spinning in your hand, many things were beginning to make sense to you. It was ridiculous that you hadn’t come to this realization before. All of the hints were right in front of you.

You leaned back in the armchair, a scrutinizing gaze pointed toward the corner of the room. You took a sip of your wine—a contemplative sip—and then ran through the facts in your head. Yes, it made perfect sense.

You wanted to kick yourself for not noticing before.

“Don’t hurt yourself thinking so hard.” Cassian’s voice startled you out of your thoughts. You blinked up at him as he took a seat on the arm of your chair. “Want to share why you’re staring a hole into the wall?”

“I was just… noticing something,” you murmured over the rim of your glass, voice low.

“And what’s that?”

You paused, pursing your lips. It would sound silly if you were wrong. But Cassian looked at you expectantly, so you simply whispered, “I think Az is in love with Elain.”

The sudden, rumbling laugh bouncing off the walls set your cheeks ablaze. The entire room halted their conversations to look at Cassian as he doubled over, holding his stomach with no signs of letting up. You stared up at him, mortified, and smacked his arm as his laughs lowered into senseless chuckles.

“Cassian, quit it. It’s not that funny—stop it or I’ll hit you again.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” he laughed, wiping a tear from his eye. “Sorry, that was just… that was a good one, y/n.”

“What’d she say?” Rhys asked, perking up from the other side of the fireplace.

“Nothing to warrant that reaction,” you grumbled, sinking lower into your seat.

Fighting back the vibrations in his chest, Cassian took a deep breath. “Inside joke, Rhys. You wouldn’t get it.”

Rhys huffed out an offended breath, quirking a brow at his antics. He looked to Mor and Feyre to garner some support, but they only giggled back at him.

“Maybe we would.”

Azriel’s gravelly tone only made you collapse further into the armchair. If you’d known there would be consequences to sharing your epiphany with Cassian, you would have kept your mouth shut. Cassian was usually wonderful at keeping secrets.

“Oh, brother, you’d find it funny as well, surely,” Cassian shared, heaving up from the chair. “But, alas, I have to go. No inside jokes for the room.”

“Well that’s not fair. You don’t get to cause a riot and then leave,” Mor whined, her cheeks rosy and her eyes glassy. Clearly, she had been having her own drinks throughout the night.

“Lovely. Now you want to know? Where was that attitude while you were giggling with my mate?” Rhys accused.

Feyre jumped in this time, pinching the high lord’s cheek and cooing, “Oh, you big Illyrian baby.”

The focus was no longer on you and your apparently laughable realization. Cassian’s reaction did little to deter you from the thought, however, and you were still quite resolute in your observations. Looking over at the couple in question only solidified that.

They were huddled close, Elain’s knees pressed against Azriel’s thigh as they spoke in low tones. Azriel would occasionally take a glance around the room, lingering on you as he went, but that was natural for the shadowsinger. His shadows were gone, where they went you had no idea, and his wings were held tightly behind his back.

And he stared at her—intently—as she nodded her head and answered whatever it was he had asked.

He had to be in love with her.

You were usually quite good at reading these types of things.

“I’m taking you home now,” Cassian spoke, holding out his hand. “We’ll walk.”

“What if I don’t want to go home?” you asked, taking his hand and following him despite your words.

“After all that nonsense, I think it’s clear you need a good night’s rest. Plus, you and I are in the ring bright and early tomorrow morning.”

You groaned, knocking your head back at the reminder of your obligations. It always sounded like such a good idea over breakfast. Cassian had clearly learned that you would only say yes to early morning trainings when you were half-asleep.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go, sweetheart.”

You let him yank you to the door, your feet dragging behind you, when a warmth encased your shoulders. You recognized the material of your coat instantly and turned to see Azriel smoothing it down over your arms.

“For your walk,” Azriel quietly explained. “You left it on the back of my chair.”

“Oh!” you chirped, feeling the early licks of embarrassment barrage your chest. It’s not like he heard you talking about him, right? “Thanks, Az. I almost forgot.”

He offered you one of his soft, rare smiles. “I know. I remembered.”

He nodded over your head to Cassian after that, and you heard Cassian’s low, I got her, Az, only because you strained your ears.

You ended up being extremely grateful for Azriel’s forethought to grab your jacket. It was freezing outside. You could have winnowed home instead, but Cassian hadn’t really given you the option and no one ever let you winnow after you’d had something to drink.

You landed in Summer Court one time and suddenly everyone treated you like a hazard.

Your shoes scuffed against dark cobblestone as you walked. It was really dark, now that you looked at it. Maybe it had rained? Or a merchant had dumped their excess water?

Or maybe it was nighttime and you were a little drunk.

It was then that you noticed the silence. When Cassian walked you home, especially when Cassian was tipsy and he walked you home, he never shut up. So this was unusual. You squinted as you looked up at him, but he gave nothing away, keeping his gaze forward and his steps in steady pace with your own.

“Okay, out with it,” you accused, crossing your arms over your chest. “What was so funny earlier? And why are you walking me home all stoic?”

“I’m always stoic. Adds to my charm.”

“Liar.”

Cassian smirked, shaking his head, and then schooled his expression into one that was a touch more serious. “You really think Az likes Elain?”

You watched your breath puff out white. “Don’t you?”

“No, I don’t.”

You shot him a skeptical glance. “Well, then you’re wrong. I’m good at picking these things out. I knew Feyre was Rhys’s made before the rest of you figured it out, didn’t I?”

“It was pretty obvious, y/n,” Cassian scoffed. He took a fleeting glance down to the ground beneath your feet. “Honestly, I’d wager that you’re actually the worst at picking these things out.”

You gaped at him, bringing your coat closer to your body in a ploy to protect your damaged pride. Cassian only shook his head—again—and then flung an arm over your shoulder.

“Don’t take that the wrong way. Just…take a second look, maybe.”

“A second look at what? She was practically sitting in his lap tonight.”

“If you say so,” Cassian hummed.

“Stop being cryptic and buy me a snack on the way.”

The following days were… strange to say the least.

Everywhere you went, Elain of all people was sure to follow.

And she spoke of Azriel. A lot.

Azriel did this and Az is so sweet isn’t he and oh, did I mention that…

Obviously, she was just as in love with Azriel as he was with her.

You were so, so right.

There was something off-putting about that truth, but you couldn’t put your finger on why. After a few days of hearing the younger girl rave about the shadowsinger, you chalked it up to the novelty of it all. You had known Azriel for over a century, and things were changing. Of course a serious love interest in his life would make you feel strange.

Azriel had had lovers in the past, but—now that you thought about it—you hadn’t heard him talk about another woman in months, much less seen him with one.

Well, other than Elain.

Perhaps it wasn’t healthy, nor productive, to be so caught up in Azriel’s love life. He was plenty capable of managing it on his own, and it’s not like you had that much of an interest, anyway.

You blinked, shaking your head and attempting to focus back in on the book you were reading. Elain had followed you into the library under the house, but thanks to the priestesses and their admonishing looks, she kept quiet. She flipped through her own book as you continued your research assignment from Rhys. It wasn’t very interesting, which was clearly the most plausible explanation for your mind drifting to Azriel.

Boring texts were the leading cause of nosiness.

“Do you have dinner plans?” Elain whispered after an hour of silence.

You sent her a small smile, looking up from the archaic book. “No, are you inviting me out?”

“Perhaps. I was thinking of asking Azriel.”

A suffocating sort of pressure clawed at your skin. “Oh?”

That was new.

“Yes, but I would really appreciate it if you came,” Elain continued, eyes downcast. “It could be fun.”

You bit into your bottom lip until the pain was uncomfortable. This was no different than her talking about Azriel all week. And you already figured that they liked each other—that they loved each other. You had relished in the discovery just a few nights ago.

So why did it suddenly feel so different?

“I wouldn't want to intrude,” you whispered. “I think a dinner with just the two of you would be nice. Azriel would surely agree.”

Elain shook her head. “I think he would be more inclined if he knew you were coming.”

As a buffer. She was asking you to come to displace any awkwardness that would arise on a first date. You had done it before for Cassian. You’d done it plenty of times for Mor—even making it a double date with random men you never spoke to again. But you’d never done it for Azriel.

Something about it felt… wrong.

“I could come,” you found yourself saying anyway, words tumbling out before you could catch them. “But I really do think he would love a dinner alone. I might be a bit of an outlier.”

Elain gave the closest thing to a smirk you’d seen on her face. “I somehow doubt that.”

“What does that—”

The ground was shaking. The faelights began violently flickering and the ground began shaking with even more vigor. You pressed down on the book in front of you and braced yourself as the air grew frenzied. The priestesses ran down the many stairs of the library as panic began setting into your bones. The last time something like this happened…

You shuddered at the thought.

This couldn't be an attack on Velaris.

Elain called your name. You answered with wide eyes.

“Get under the tables!”

You both dove beneath your table at the call, clutching at the legs with shaking hands. There was a commotion as books fell from shelves and lights popped, but there were no screams. No one was hurt. There was no attack.

Realization coursed through you, but it did little to quell your fear as the shaking continued.

“It’s an earthquake!” you shouted to Elain. “It’s okay, we’re going to be fine!”

Velaris hadn’t been struck by an earthquake of this magnitude in many, many years. The last one was centuries ago, and it had led to many rebuilding efforts and a handful of injuries. You hoped this wasn’t on the same scale. Or at least that Rhys’ magic was enough to abate the worst of the damages.

After another moment, the shaking ceased. You let the panic and adrenaline run its course as you caught your breath, Elain right beside you. It didn’t seem so bad now that it was over and the building had stayed intact. With a hand at your chest, you shook your head in disbelief.

“By the cauldron, that was unexpected.”

Elain let out a shaky laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt an earthquake before.”

You offered your own breathy laugh as you both got to your feet. “Well, you have plenty of time to get The Mother scared out of you and experience another.”

She opened her mouth to reply but was abruptly cut off as shadows materialized. Heavy footsteps rushed up stairs and it was only another beat before Azriel was upon you. Scarred hands cradled your face, turning it back and forth as hazel eyes took in every inch of your skin. Light became sparse as wings flared out behind him, shielding you from nothing.

“Are you hurt?” he demanded, voice still low despite the urgency. “Were you covered?”

“Azriel? What are you—How did you know we were down here?”

“Are you hurt?”

You attempted to reconcile the chaotic present with the very calm, very expected past. Sitting in the library with a boring relic in front of you and a new reading partner compared to an earthquake and a frazzled shadowsinger clutching at your face.

Gripping his wrists, you answered him with a slow and confused, “I’m fine.”

He closed his eyes as he let out a long breath. “Good…. good.”

When he released your face, he ran his hands along your hair. And then your shoulders and your arms. It wasn’t until he had touched most of you that he took a step back and ran a hand through his own hair. It was then that he seemed to remember Elain.

“And are you alright?” he asked, far more composed than he had been a moment ago.

“A bit overwhelmed, but I am fine as well,” she sighed out.

Azriel didn’t touch her as he nodded in relief.

“Was it as bad as the last one? Is everyone okay?” you cut in.

Azriel, who had gone back to unnecessarily looking you over, furrowed his brows. “What?”

You mirrored his expression. “The earthquake. Do you remember the last one? Was this one that bad?”

“Oh. No. Not as bad.”

“And how is everyone else?”

“I’m not sure.”

Azriel was typically short with his answers, but right now he was being particularly short. And he was never one to not have information. Ever.

“Are you okay?” you asked instead.

“I am now.”

You left the library wondering why Azriel had run to you and not Elain—why that moment felt so monumental in the face of all others.

Maybe being right wasn’t what you wanted anymore.

But maybe that wasn’t your decision to make.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction #azriel #a court of thorns and roses

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contact-guy · 4 months

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I was seized with a fervor and could not rest until I illustrated one of my favorite scenes from Sherlock Holmes: the Adventure of the Devil's Foot. While Holmes and Watson take a holiday in the Cornish countryside for Holmes's health, multiple people in the nearby village are found driven mad or dead from horror. Holmes deduces a substance that was burned in their presence is to blame. With a bit of the mysterious powder and a gas lamp in hand, he proposes an experiment to Watson...

content warning for drug use!

I'm not sure if it's supported by the canon but in my mind this is the first time Holmes ever apologies to Watson and he is so overcome with emotion that he immediately makes it weird

Text under the cut:

"It is not for me, my dear Watson, to stand in the way of the official police force. I leave them all the evidence which I found. The poison still remained upon the talc had they the wit to find it. Now, Watson, we will light our lamp; we will, however, take the precaution to open our window to avoid the premature decease of two deserving members of society, and you will seat yourself near that open window in an armchair unless, like a sensible man, you determine to have nothing to do with the affair. Oh, you will see it out, will you? I thought I knew my Watson. This chair I will place opposite yours, so that we may be the same distance from the poison and face to face. The door we will leave ajar. Each is now in a position to watch the other and to bring the experiment to an end should the symptoms seem alarming. Is that all clear? Well, then, I take our powder--or what remains of it--from the envelope, and I lay it above the burning lamp. So! Now, Watson, let us sit down and await developments."

They were not long in coming. I had hardly settled in my chair before I was conscious of a thick, musky odour, subtle and nauseous. At the very first whiff of it my brain and my imagination were beyond all control. A thick, black cloud swirled before my eyes, and my mind told me that in this cloud, unseen as yet, but about to spring out upon my appalled senses, lurked all that was vaguely horrible, all that was monstrous and inconceivably wicked in the universe. Vague shapes swirled and swam amid the dark cloud-bank, each a menace and a warning of something coming, the advent of some unspeakable dweller upon the threshold, whose very shadow would blast my soul. A freezing horror took possession of me. I felt that my hair was rising, that my eyes were protruding, that my mouth was opened, and my tongue like leather. The turmoil within my brain was such that something must surely snap. I tried to scream and was vaguely aware of some hoarse croak which was my own voice, but distant and detached from myself. At the same moment, in some effort of escape, I broke through that cloud of despair and had a glimpse of Holmes's face, white, rigid, and drawn with horror--the very look which I had seen upon the features of the dead. It was that vision which gave me an instant of sanity and of strength. I dashed from my chair, threw my arms round Holmes, and together we lurched through the door, and an instant afterwards had thrown ourselves down upon the grass plot and were lying side by side, conscious only of the glorious sunshine which was bursting its way through the hellish cloud of terror which had girt us in. Slowly it rose from our souls like the mists from a landscape until peace and reason had returned, and we were sitting upon the grass, wiping our clammy foreheads, and looking with apprehension at each other to mark the last traces of that terrific experience which we had undergone.

"Upon my word, Watson!" said Holmes at last with an unsteady voice, "I owe you both my thanks and an apology. It was an unjustifiable experiment even for one's self, and doubly so for a friend. I am really very sorry."

"You know," I answered with some emotion, for I have never seen so much of Holmes's heart before, "that it is my greatest joy and privilege to help you."

He relapsed at once into the half-humorous, half-cynical vein which was his habitual attitude to those about him. "It would be superfluous to drive us mad, my dear Watson," said he. "A candid observer would certainly declare that we were so already before we embarked upon so wild an experiment. I confess that I never imagined that the effect could be so sudden and so severe." He dashed into the cottage, and, reappearing with the burning lamp held at full arm's length, he threw it among a bank of brambles. "We must give the room a little time to clear. I take it, Watson, that you have no longer a shadow of a doubt as to how these tragedies were produced?"

#it's another love confession #sherlock holmes #john watson #acd holmes #acd canon #long post #my art

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