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#'oh have you calmed down now
mx-legend-of-faye · 4 months
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Don’t piss off the person in charge of your meals.
Forget copious amounts of goron spice, if the chain really pisses off Wild they’re making either dubious food, rock hard food, or monster stew. What’s the rest of the chain going to do, cook a 5 star meal to avoid the purposefully icky food? No way, the most elaborate meal they can make is absolutely nothing compared to what Wild makes for them when he hasn’t been pissed off by them.
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woobifiedvillain · 10 months
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Shout-out to autistic people who have the fun black and white thinking dial turned the fuck up as your default.
So did y'all also react to the realization that not everyone says what they mean/is literal all the time with overwhelming panic, because, well then how can you tell, and, unable to find a solution or understanding, went all the way over to "assume nobody says just what they mean, in fact, everyone is lying to me all the time" to at least feel sure of something.
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brittlebutch · 5 months
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it's actually so fascinating to me that Brennan has created a character that maintains a pretty relaxed and mild-mannered demeanor and has said multiple times that the absolute Core of her is "FEAR" and how often we see this Fear manifest specifically in Avoidance; it really nails a relationship to that mentality where your brain fully Stops recognizing the emotion properly out of like, sheer self-defense from the stress of having to carry it all the time
I think this is also perfectly showcased in the way we tend to see Tula swing so suddenly from 'level and steady' to 'snarling Panic' and then back again - Just because your brain has detached itself from the Conscious Recognition of the emotion doesn't mean it can Actually stop itself from experiencing it. So the Fear is always there and always acting as a stressor, but because of that inability to Identify it there's no way to recognize or address it before that final straw hits and your bodymind jumps Straight into Full Meltdown Mode; but then once again, once you drop even a Little bit below that Peak Terror your brain ceases to process the emotion; it's like the most exhausting form of Poor Object Permanence in the world
And even if Tula is aware of this happening to her, that doesn't really make it any easier to deal with / address. Even if you're able to spot the symptoms Around the emotion -- chest pain, irritation, nausea, whatever -- because the Emotion Itself is basically impossible to find, you can't really Successfully Pin Down what the problem is OR a way to cope with it. If you can't figure out That You Are Anxious, then figuring out What Is Making You Anxious is impossible, which makes Find A Way To Make Peace With That incomprehensible. That's where the Avoidance comes in: you can no longer identify what might be a Dangerous Situation, which means that Anything New has a big potential to be Really Bad in a variety of ways (ranging "I don't Feel Good" to "Fully Lashing Out bc you've entered Fight/Flight and can't get out of it" to "Actual Outside Danger This Time") and that means the Only Way you know how to be Safe is to just Avoid Doing Anything New and Only stick to Familiar Situations, because anything unfamiliar is a monster of a gamble you don't know how to prepare for or cope with
#N posts stuff#one could argue ‘we see tula worry a lot tho’ but that’s bc Worry is an Action that can occur Separately from Recognizing Anxiety#now that I know tumblr will put a hard cap on your tags w/o telling you i'm resigning myself to posting rambling meta in post body#but i'm not happy about it; anyway i love how often life is full of Coincidences bc this is something I've Finally identified in myself#like. This Month. like this is brand new articulation for some of the problems i have in life; again knowing this doesn't help lmao#bc even when you know to look Around the shape of the emotion - like 'oh my face is Snarling rn. i'm probably experiencing Something'#like i said bc you don't know What that something is OR What might have caused it then the only solution you Ever get to come up with#is just 'fully retreat and go calm down somewhere else' which INVARIABLY means that you will wind up in that same situation again#and Still have no idea how to handle it bc you never could figure out what caused it so you don't know how to handle it any better than#'fully retreat and go calm down somewhere else'; so 'be somewhere else' is the ONLY way you can ever think to Help it#which usually invariably turns into 'Just Avoid Fucking Everything just in case'; which doesn't work! bc life doesn't let you do that#so then it's just a cycle of falling into the same pitfalls and feeling miserable all the time; gotta love it :)#if you're like me this also gives you Bad Bad Bad Memory bc your brain will Promptly hide evidence of Scary Situation instinctively#like 3 weeks ago this dude ran a red light and almost t-boned me Full Speed & managed to stop like. maybe 3 feet away.#and i like. Startled Laughed and said 'that was scary' and then within 30 seconds i had Fully Forgotten it happened & only remembered#like 2 days ago. Ha! believe it or not this Does Not Help with 'How can I Address the Problem instead of Avoiding It Entirely?'#dimension 20#d20: stupendous stoats#tula#d20lb
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quietwingsinthesky · 2 months
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just going to keep this au tucked into the back of my mind for the rest of the show btw. doctor who if his companions literally would not leave him alone. he keeps getting new companions and they’re just. integrated into the tardis family. bonding over how much they all love this weird pathetic spaceman who has enriched and/or ruined their lives.
#even funnier if the doctor regenerates and tentoo does not so theyre just perpetually stuck with angsty david tennant alongside whatever#doctor is flying the ship at the time#they’ll like. leave and do normal life stuff every once in a while.#the doctor internally going both ‘oh good theyre returning to their lives 🙂’ and ‘THEYRE ABANDONING ME 😭’ because he has issues#and then another companion will hijack the tardis to pick them up again because the doctor is trying to avoid it ‘for their own good’#the doctor tries to leave them all behind when they all go to donna’s wedding and is thwarted by luke smith (also invited to wedding because#donna and sarah jane are friends now and luke eventually starts living parttime on the tardis like sarah jane does (sarah jane i can see#going back home the most. but still never leaving the doctor alone lmao.) and anyway luke got overstimulated at the wedding and hid in the#tardis to calm down (sarah jane told him that was okay 🥺) and then the doctor tries to??? fucking leave everyone??? (<- having a crisis)#and twenty minutes later luke has commandeered the tardis back to the wedding and the doctor is getting an earful from both donna (‘YOU RAN#AWAY FROM MY WEDDING???? MY WEDDING????’) and sarah jane (‘YOU KIDNAPPED MY SON???’)#i got off track here talking about donnas wedding my point was that i think it would be funny if this stupid alien man’s family just keeps#growing and growing and he cant do shit about it.#sometimes the master is also there when she’s on good behavior and she makes fun of him for it soooo much. loser cant keep his humans off#his tardis.#tardis family au
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nadiajustbe · 1 year
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Okay, but we have one more moment with Jealous Nathaniel™ and no one is talking about it??
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I mean.
Man.
Dear.
Are you that unaware that Barty could have any connections with people other than you?
I have a lot of bad news for you.
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nowandforalways · 4 months
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The Watermill Theatre has no idea what a thing they have done by putting up that video of "Now And For Always" ❤️
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coffee-bat · 7 months
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i haven't been having the best time lately
#sorry vent incoming in tags. you dont have to read you really can skip this#/so the day before yesterday i had a major argument with mom. about something incredibly small but she got super mad at me (basically i#suggested she might have made a mistake while cleaning the oven bc when i turned it on i smelled and felt burning chemicals. like-#-teary eyes and sneezing i wasn't imagining it. and she got super mad and started yelling)#for the whole afternoon it was either silent treatment or yelling abt how what i said is 'unforgivable'#and ofc rejecting apologies and attempts to calm the situation down bc 'this isn't something you can just fix with an apology'#i literally just asked if she's sure everything went right with the oven cleaning. bc it was done in a rush.#so anyway at 10pm i HAD to get the situation to a manageable level bc i was starving and she was in the living room (we have an open kitchen#) so if i wanted to get sth to eat i'd have to confront her. so screaming match ensued again with me apologizing and explaining my point -#and her yelling over me. it went on for 40 minutes. finally after me apologizing like 70 times she calmed down but said that 'what i did is-#-unacceaptable and she does not give permission for it to happen again'. i went to sleep without getting anything to eat of course.#and this fucked me up. bc i really thought we were doing better. i really thought our relationship would only get better now esp after we -#-bonded on vacation. but turns out not. and shes still lowkey mad.#THEN yesterday im studying for a zoology exam and mention it on the phone with her#she goes 'who do you have zoology for'. i respond with the name of the teacher. confused.#'professor (x) died on friday.'#??????????#'it's not published anywhere yet so yeah YOU have to tell your class'#i had a panic attack legit. i threw up from stress. i couldnt do it. first off bc of shock and secondly bc how am i supposed tojust jump#into group chat like 'oh hey btw professor died'#thankfully the info was posted officially by uni at 10pm. so i didnt have to do it. but mom kept pressing me to the whole day#i was nauseaous all of yesterday bc of it. i couldnt manage to study anymore after the shock. sure he was older but he was so energetic and#seemed healthy. i wouldnt have expected it it was just. a huge shock. im still not over it#like you cant know someone for half a year then not be shaken when they suddenly die yknow. and mom is lowkey making fun of me like#'what were you emotionally attached??? he wasnt anyone close'#no he wasnt but im still shaken. and being mocked is only making it worse. as is having to keep studying for his subject for the next few-#-days.#sorry ok vent over theres just. a lot happening for me and im struggling i needed to let it out ig. theres just too much at once#vent#death mention
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icarusrex · 6 days
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Latticework
Cheating at my own game, watch: this is from 2017 (I think). I'd intended to move it here sooner, but had a bunch of formatting problems, blah blah blah, they were actually embarrassingly easy to fix.* So, the general setting is a post-post-apocalypse: what seemed like a ruined planet has been steadily springing back to life and everyone born in the wasteland doesn't quite know what to do with that yet.
💡💡💡💡💡💡💡💡💡💡💡 Tamar wasn’t exactly sure when the bakery had completed the transition from “legitimate business” to legitimate business, but when the “health inspector” had stopped by that morning to rap disdainfully on the false wall and ask a lot of questions about the spring-loaded drawer under the pastry case, it was all she could do not to laugh. She couldn’t blame him–the shop looked suspicious because it was–but she almost felt sorry for him when, after nearly an hour-and-a-half of prodding, measuring, and being bullied-from-afar by the church ladies at the corner table who had refused to leave during his visit, he finally stormed out, haughty and red in the face and soon-to-be-forced to file a report saying that the bakery on 12th with the trapdoor in the break room was really, truly just a bakery with a trapdoor, honestly, see for yourself.
Tamar would’ve bitten off every fingernail and then some during one of these garden-variety raids when she was younger, back when her old crew first leased the place. Even she found it hard to believe that the most scandalous thing the inspector turned up was a mangled blueberry pie. (She’d botched the lattice-top that morning, but baked it anyway, hoping to foist it on someone else by the end of the night. Half-price.)
The longer the inspector lingered, the louder the chorus of disdain from the old ladies at the corner table. They were all but wailing as he huffed past, letting the door bang behind him. They crooned about what a waste of time and government funding this whole thing was, and how ludicrous to hassle someone trying to make an honest living in these uncertain times.
“Unbelievable,” one of them had spat. Tamar could feel those eyes boring through horn-rimmed glasses into the back of her head.
“I recorded the whole thing, honey!” another piped up, waving a glowing screen in the air like a tiny beacon of solidarity. Tamar thanked her politely, but kept pretending to be very busy rearranging the counter. She pressed her palm over her mouth to stifle a grin. It was just too much. If only he’d dropped by a year sooner.
💡💡💡💡💡💡💡💡💡💡💡
It had taken some effort to force the door shut after the last holiday patrons had trickled out, rowdy and unbound by time. Tamar was still adjusting to the entrepreneurial life, but it was a change of pace to have people staying so late– she eyed the empty shelves and tried to decide if she was feeling grateful or resentful. Still, she didn’t have to lie to her old friends anytime they slunk in and nudged her in hushed tones (“No, but really, how have you been here?”). She always had to reassure them several times, with varying degrees of impoliteness, that she really did find the warm, dull repetition of living in one place genuinely uplifting. The first twenty-eight years of her life had been a  mad-dash through the peripheral vision of cutthroat traders and checkpoint security. Nothing could be more exciting than “boring” to her now.
“Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it!” she’d bellow. It was becoming her new favorite cliche, if only for the spirited snorts and eyerolls it usually elicited from her favorite nomads.
Most of them ate their words when she play-threatened to turn them in. They’d pretend to squeeze her for a bed and a hot meal, and she’d pantomime being put-out, with a devilish gleam in her eye as they talked all night, their raucous voices thundering up the heavy wooden stairs of her basement apartment, through the hatch that acted as her front door, and out the front of the bakery facade where they dissipated on the bitter, northern wind. They’d interrupt each other, telling a single story in tandem, until no one had the strength to speak anymore. They’d drift off to sleep, and everyone would disappear by daybreak, leaving Tamar to return to taking morning bun orders for the radio station that had just opened back up across the street.
She wasn’t sure what felt more dreamlike–her former life, or this one. They seemed to run in opposite directions. On the rare day that they intersected, everything felt so askew, but in a harmless way. Like she was a character on one of those old TV shows, caught in a crossover.
Tamar forced her full body-weight against the door of the shop. The insulation underneath had been taped and re-taped more times than she could count and it always swelled in the snow. She leaned hard on the handle and a last rush of cold air screamed through the dark emptiness of the bakery, like a wild animal seizing its last chance to slip in through the crack. Finally, the door slid into alignment. She keyed the heavy, bronze lock, took one last look at the darkened shop, and headed for the patch of warm light seeping out of the break room floor.
The lock was a bluff, before. It had come with the space, but they hadn’t bothered to replace it. No one assumes you have anything worth stealing if you’re hiding it behind an analogue lock.
As she descended into the hot, yolky glow of the lamplight downstairs, Tamar heard the faint tick and thump of what she really, truly hoped was just the pipes settling and not vermin taking up residence in the bakery walls. She often left the basement lights on after dark. A subterranean apartment could get awfully gloomy, at any time of year, but especially in the winter. It made sense to keep a light on, but it was strange to have reached a point where these sorts of small luxuries felt routine. She trailed her hand absently along the wooden railing, the gaudy black-and-white checkered flooring of her kitchen coming into view below. It had been worth it to make the place look as little like a bunker as possible, in her opinion, even if everyone else complained that what she dubbed “retro” would only ever be “ugly”.
Tamar stopped dead.
She’d heard it again. Not the pipes. Not mice. She tightened her grip on the railing. Footsteps. Past the shabby, taupe couch in her makeshift living room, past the row of heavy, black pans lining the kitchen wall. Behind the closed door at the end of the hallway. Distinctly human.
Unbeknownst to any of Tamar’s neighbors–including the church ladies who knew that she lived under the store and begged her on the regular to try to get more sunlight than that–there was a second entrance to the basement. She could count on one hand the number of people who knew about it. None of them were in town now.
One foot and then the other slipped out of her work shoes. She abandoned them on the stairs and swept across the length of the kitchen, noiseless as a wraith across the tiles, pausing only to carefully, purposefully pluck what could best be described as a poor-man’s mace from a hook on the wall.
It was really just a bat with a few dozen twisted nails poking angrily out of the end. It felt so cartoonish to threaten someone with a glorified nail bat, but she’d kept it as a prop to lend credence to her baker persona in the early days–displayed it on the wall of her apartment, the way someone who had never felt a real weapon in their hands might.
Usually it just hung there, looking dangerous and sort of comical, but never really intended for use. A traveling artist had given it to her on a sweltering midsummer’s night. They’d started having festivals here again, and when people have gone so long without a proper holiday, they tend to get really invested. The artist, swaying in their seat, had stiffed Tamar out of at least half a cherry cake by the time she realized she wasn't getting paid. 
“It’s an investment,” they’d said, dully, offering her the unsightly weapon. “Next time some good-for-nothing like me tries to run out on their tab, you’ll be ready.”
She tightened her grip on the handle, took one long, slow breath and held it, winding up as she saw the shadow of movement creep under the door. 
She’d aim for the knees first–she was a piemaker these days, after all.
The door swung open. Fast, familiar. “Not the way someone who was sneaking around would open it,” was what she’d told herself in the moment. "I’ll never learn to think on my feet," was what she’d tell herself afterwards.
Whether it was the right or wrong thing to do, Tamar hesitated, and found herself staring up at the ashen face of a sharp-featured, sullen-looking man. He raised both hands in surrender, a jangling keyring looped around the middle finger of his left hand. He eyed her, eyed the bat, then eyed her again, with a look that was more subdued curiosity than concern for his own safety. Which was just as well–if he had looked worried, she might not have recognized him.
“Jesus CHRIST, Soren–” Tamar heaved a sigh of relief from the very pit of her stomach. “I thought someone from that pushy eight-top found the trapdoor.” Her arms ached from the unreleased tension of holding back that swing, but all she truly felt was every muscle in her face tugging with fond recognition. Tamar found herself beaming before the adrenaline rush had even worn off. “Thank goodness. No customers snooping around, just the land-pirate.”
Soren cleared his throat behind one forearm–an oddly irrational gesture of courtesy–and waved the hand that was full of keys at Tamar’s nail bat with a careless jingle. “You can still hit me with that.” His voice was low and murky when he spoke, sounding more like it was being dragged out of him than used intentionally. “Might perk me up a little, at this point.” 
In the rush of emotion, Tamar had forgotten that she was still brandishing a weapon at him and dropped it hastily with a loud clatter and the foul screech of a stray nail head against the kitchen tile. You could’ve called, and You could’ve come upstairs and told me you were in town, were both on the tip of her tongue, but a roiling swell of sympathy that started in her chest and washed hotly over her face swept all the reproachfulness out of her.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
He gave a noncommittal grumble that could have passed for a “yes” or a “no”, but cleared his throat a second time, before speaking again, “I’ll be out of your hair soon.”
Tamar lingered in the hallway. She watched him cross the room and sidle up to the retrofitted pot-bellied stove in the kitchen. Of all the anachronisms in the basement-apartment, that might’ve been the weirdest one. None of them could remember if it came with the place, or if someone had hauled it in. It just sat there, looking weirdly sinister and out-of-place. Tamar had always liked it, but everyone else acted like it was some huge, hot beetle taking up valuable space in their hideout. No one but her had touched it in a long time, but of course Soren still remembered how to light it. When he bent low to fiddle with the knobs, she could see the curve of his shoulder blades through his soft, grey shirt. Soren was one of those people who always wore a lot of layers. In all the time they’d spent together, hurtling through the desert on this low-risk supply run or that dodgy escort mission, she’d barely seen him remove his jacket. Seeing him now in a soft, simple shirt that fell loose at the neckline felt more intimate than if he’d appeared in the doorway stark naked, somehow.
A flicker of blue flames sprung up beneath the grating and he straightened up, rubbing a knuckle absently at the side of his nose. “I should have knocked, I’m sorry,” he half-turned away to muffle a series of shallow coughs into his sleeve, sounding dissatisfied, like he could only spare himself a few under her critical glance.
Tamar shrugged. “It’s technically your house, so…”
Soren shook his head as though she’d said something truly perplexing. “It’s yours now.” He swung one of the cabinet doors open, rummaging through the pile of mismatched pots and pans. “I saw the sign in the window," he added.
“What?”
“‘Now Hiring’.”
“Oh. Oh, yeah–” It was out-of-character for him to make small talk; Tamar was caught off-guard. Suddenly self-conscious of hovering in the hallway, she wound around the corner and sat heavily on the patchy couch past the end of the counter. “Yeah. Yeah, things have been going really well. I’m thinking it’d be nice to take on some help. Y’know, I think it’s been really good for the neighborhood, too. You can make fun of me for that, but it’s just– things are sort of coming alive again up here.”
“I won’t. But congratulations,” he said, pulling an iron kettle from the top shelf. Tamar chuckled. She hadn’t meant to, but sometimes he just sounded so damn somber, she couldn’t tell if he was joking and she couldn’t help but laugh to break the tension, even if he wasn't. He peered at her briefly over his shoulder for that, but didn’t seem put-out.
“What about you?” Tamar picked up brightly. “You were halfway to the flats, last I saw you…”
Soren was quiet for a moment, holding the kettle under the faucet, watching the swirling water fill the bottom with a distant look in his eye.
“All the way there–” his voice wavered precariously, “–and all the way back. It turned out to be a real–whhh' ihh– ” The last few words piled up on each other, breathy and urgent, like they only counted if he could get them all out before he actually sneezed. His right hand left the faucet and pinched the bridge of his nose. A tense shudder ran through him as he suppressed two sneezes, still clutching the kettle shakily in his other hand. A deep, trembling exhale, just shy of a moan, escaped him afterwards.
“All the way back? We’re not on the train line,” Tamar piped up suspiciously. “How far did you have to–?”
Soren gasped again, so suddenly and sharply that Tamar thought he might’ve bumped the stove. She jumped up reflexively, hovering in an uncertain half-sit by the couch for a moment until he shut the faucet off in exasperation and let the kettle drop with a bang into the sink basin. Tamar watched his brow tense and furrow as he scowled sidelong at the corner of the room. He was clutching the edge of the table now, his breath coming in stuttering gasps. She was about to ask what on earth was wrong, when he buried his face urgently in the crook of his arm and all but collapsed into a dreadful sneezing fit.
“eh’ISCCHuh!... ihh… heh-ISSHiuh!... hehh-- nnd’TSSCHiuh!” He had turned away from her, bracing his elbow with his free hand.
Tamar sank back into the couch when she realized what was happening. She stood up again when it didn’t stop. “How did you manage to catch a cold in the middle of the desert?” She smirked, but regretted it instantly. Still caught in the throes of it, he hadn’t really heard what she’d said. She was happy for the opportunity to retract the question; now wasn’t the time to tease him, she decided.
When the fit tapered off at last, he waited, back still turned, drawing a few slow, tentative breaths, not quite convinced that it was over and certainly not looking like it had granted him any relief. Resignedly, he slipped a handkerchief from his pocket and folded it over his nose.
The kitchen felt very silent for a moment. The faucet squeaked back on.  His shoulders relaxed, but the tension between his eyebrows stayed.
“Here–” Tamar committed to standing, finally, and rounded the counter. “You sit down. I’ll do this.”
She caught his bleary gaze and cut him off as he was winding up to protest. “Hey, hey– you just became a guest in my house while we were having this talk,” she offered up a toothy grin. “Now that this is my house, what kind of host would I be...?”
Even through the veneer of fatigue and frustration, that pulled a little smile out of him. It wasn’t much–just a glimmer, just a crinkle of crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes, but that was enough.
Tamar had often joked that dealing in hot parts and soft drugs had done wonders to cure her crippling shyness. She tried to only joke to herself about this. It was funny, but not “ha-ha, tell-the-neighbors”. Not the kind of self-improvement people really wanted to congratulate you for, once they knew the full backstory.
When the old crew had first taken her in, she’d been petrified to speak to Soren or almost anyone, and now she was literally pushing him around his own kitchen like a piece of furniture.
It was silly, in retrospect, to think of how much she’d worried. He’d been the first one to encourage her when she didn’t want to speak during negotiations, or froze up at the thought of doing a solo supply run. “Take no prisoners, Tamar,” he’d say in that over-serious way–where she could never, ever tell if he was kidding or if he was just like that–but he’d say it the same way whether they were risking their lives, running reconnaissance under the shadow of circling buzzards or siphoning gas in the wasteland where no one cared about gas anymore, so it felt like it had to be some kind of private joke.
Tamar listened to the water boiling behind her back.
Soren had folded his arms and tipped his head back against the cushion almost as soon as he sat down, like his body had barely been holding itself together and she’d just needed to say one word to grant it permission to dissolve. Even out of the harsh, yellow glare of the overhead kitchen lamp, Tamar noticed the flush that had crept into the hollows of his cheeks. How his lips were lightly parted, like he was having trouble breathing out of his nose. The little crease between his eyebrows that never quite left, but seemed more pronounced today. She’d never seen him so flat-out. It was a little surreal, like she’d just watched an empty suit of armor up and shiver. He pulled himself upright, out of his slouch suddenly. She was ready to look away at a moment’s notice, to spare him the indignity of being assessed, but his eyes only pinched shut tighter as he dragged the handkerchief from his pocket, a little more hastily this time. 
“hihh–IGHSHHiuh–!”
He only sneezed once, but it curled him at the stomach and left him reeling. He leaned his head back against the couch with an exasperated thump. The soft moan that passed over his lips raised the hair on the back of Tamar’s neck. She watched him settle back against the cushion, and eyed the ghost of a scar that ran along his lower lip and down his chin before it disappeared into three days’ worth of stubble.
It had been split– how many summers ago now? It had been split when they first met. When she was too intimidated to say more than a few words at a time to him, and then spent the rest of the night, in the pitch-dark after the campfire was out, worrying about how he’d interpreted those few words.
She never really found out how it had been split–that was how he’d always explained things in those days. “Been split.” In the past tense, with no subject. The “who” and “why” dispersed in the air like a heavy vapor–visible but vague. The more days slipped by, the less compelled she felt to ask.
“Bless you…” she offered, tentatively.
He peered over at her, distantly, like she might’ve been a mirage and he was only dreaming of being back in this drafty house. Like he might wake up at any minute, sprawled out and sweltering in a cabin on the flatlands.
“Thank you,” he murmured, just the same, sounding truly grateful for it. Tamar felt a sharp pang of protectiveness hit her like an arrow. His eyes were swimming and he looked like every ounce of him itched or ached. The kettle shrieked steam just behind her back and she turned away to rummage for tea in the cupboard. There wasn’t much; tea hadn’t quite made a comeback in this part of town. She pulled a big, cardboard box from the back of the shelf. It was unmarked, with only the silhouette of a blue jay stamped onto the lid. A few rows of teabags still lined the bottom of the box. It was bitter, ration-quality stuff, but she figured he wouldn’t really mind. Steaming mug in hand, Tamar crossed the room. She reached out and gently touched Soren’s shoulder. He opened his eyes, not startled exactly, but disoriented, certainly.
She pressed the mug into his hands. He wrapped them both around it, slowly, automatically like it was just muscle memory. She swept the hair off his forehead before pressing her palm against it.
“I’m surprised you didn’t melt all the snow on my doorstep on your way in,” she sighed and withdrew her hand, the heat from his skin still lingering on her fingertips by the time she spoke again. She was biting back a million questions about where he’d been since they last laid eyes on each other, but looking at him now, hunched gratefully over the wisps of hot steam drifting up from the rim of the mug, she swallowed her curiosity and sunk with a sigh onto the cushion beside him.
“How long have you been sick?” she asked instead.
He set the mug down after a few tentative sips. “A couple of days,” he conceded. She tried not to imagine him too clearly, huddled in other people’s doorways, or trying for a tense, half-sleep in one of the crumbling apartments on the outskirts of town where no one lived anymore and you could see the pale, winter sunlight through the walls.
Tamar extracted herself from the couch and padded down the hallway. She checked the locks on the rear door, twice, out of routine only, and knelt to collect the bat still abandoned on the floor. She looped it over the hook and took a final look around before cutting the main lights. Then, as an afterthought, she stripped all of the blankets haphazardly from her own bed, and dragged them into the main hall, a few corners trailing on the floor behind her.
She sat back down and threw the blankets unceremoniously over the both of them. They sat together in silence for a little while, interrupted only by the occasional sniffle or subdued sneeze. He was still shivering a little, but she could tell some of the tension had left him.
“Can you believe people are actually buying bread here?” was her last question of the night.
She thought she heard him huff a hollow laugh in the dark, but she couldn’t be sure.
#*yeah WORD TO THE WISE (not me): if you paste from other sites even without formatting retained#tumblr may read paragraph breaks as characters?? and therefore yell at you for exceeding their 'text-block limit' on paragraphs#i had to manually delete/redo my paragraph breaks for it to accept this. don't know if this is a known thing and i'm just boomering out#but i would've reposted this when i made this blog if i'd had the presence of mind to try that then 😭 anyway:#there are turns of phrase in this that i THOUGHT i came up with for the first time in 2023#and was like 'yes my brain is huge for having this thought now for the first time in my life' 😭wtf#oh well. we love the same thing over and over again don't we folks?#anyway i REALLY loved these characters/this universe. although i think it works better as a one-off...#i am reconsidering that a bit because they were so fun.#peeping this again was a helpful reminder in how to calm the fuck down with purple prose as well LOL GOD#it feels so good on my brain to do that but i do also want to get back to stuff like this that's a little more casual/conversational#it was also a helpful reminder of the fact that i don't have any characters who aren't criminals as well. 😭 like... not even one.#what do you think that's about?#old writing meme#sneeze kink#snz fic#snzblr#fever#caretaking#sickfic#spake:#i've been so balls-deep in trad fantasy lately that it was kind of a jumpscare to remember that they have inert smartphones in this#and awareness of real-life religions LOL it's been awhile and i WAS startled.
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sesamenom · 20 days
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someone has probably asked this before or you've said that before but what instrument do you play??
just casually, but violin and piano (mostly piano right now)! seitz is one of my favorites to play on violin (i also love vivaldi music but sixteenth note scales are. not very relaxing) right now i'm playing around with changing the chords and tempo on a modified version of Canon in D for piano to convert it to what I call Canon in Dragon :)
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atu-and-zuni · 1 year
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i aint been poasting a lot but heres som Atul’haka sketches (and a bonus Ivan) for yall -w-. first two are a bit older, last two are more recent. 
hes gotten fluffier and acquired a tiny husband since yall’ve last seen him. currently during Dragonflight they're having a grand ol time hiking thru the isles and going “yall hear sumthin?” whenever any of that weird primalist junk starts happening. having a blast rock climbin n campin n huntin and are gunna get married about it pretty soon but shhh they dont know that yet :>
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hella1975 · 1 year
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‘you don’t seem too happy tho :(’ cunt I’ll bite you
#THE ACTUAL CHEEK OF HER LET ME CALM DOWN BEFORE I RANT FUCK MEEEEE THIS GIRL THIS GIRLYPOP EVEN#right so I’ve got a mate that I fell out with a couple weeks ago and she’s not confrontational but she IS the type to hold grudges#and express them in like. really petty ways. so like we settled our argument ages ago and I moved on bc i have a life#BUT IT’S OUR OTHER MATE’S BDAY PARTY TODAY AND IM NOT THAT CLOSE WITH THIS MATE BUT THIS GIRL IS HER FLATMATE YEAH#SO EVEN IF THAT MATE DIDNT INVITE ME DIRECTLY THEN THIS OTHER MATE THAT I AM CLOSER WITH WOULD HAVE#bc basically me her and another girl make a trip like we’re very close and it’s a very rigid trio set up#like you CANNOT invite two and not the other yk? guess what she fucking did#i only FOUND OUT ABOUT THIS PARTY BC THE THIRD GIRL IN OUR TRIO VERY CASUALLY WAS LIKE OH WHAT R U GONNA WEAR#AND I WAS LIKE??? TO WHAT??? AND SHE WAS SO BAMBOOZLED BC THATS HOW MUCH OF A GIVEN IT WAS THAT ID BE INVITED#BC MY MATE INVITED HER BUT NOT ME#and I’ve known that since yesterday morning but I was like okayyy okay im saying nothing am I fuck getting aggy bc I didn’t get INVITED#like that’s embarassing I’m staying silent. which I stick to until suddenly 5pm today#my mate that invited the other girl but not me messages me going#‘are you coming?’ GIRL??? AND THEN PROCEEDS TO TRY GASLIGHT ME LIKE ‘I MESSAGED YOU ABOUT IT’#YOU DID IN FACT NOT#AND I CANT PROVE SHES BEING INNOCENT AND PETTY BC WE FELL OUT AGES AGO BUT IT CERTAINLY FUCKING FEES LIKE IT#and even tho id acc like to have gone to that party I cut my nose off and was like nah im gonna sit this one out it’s just awkward now innit#and she was backtracking by that point bc i think she thought she’d just make me feel marginally uncomfortable and then I’d crawl over#like no bitch!!! and yeah I was a bit mardy on text and she HITS ME WITH THIS#‘are you okay’ ‘yeah you two have fun’ ‘you don’t seem too happy tho?’ YOU FUCKING RECKON???#furious tbh im scheming over how to retaliate even though i KNOW i shouldnt#petty petty girls grow up pls#hella goes to uni
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redpiperfox · 2 months
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But mainly, and really:
#red's week in music#STORYTIME WITH RED GATHER ROUND KIDDOS!#was at kids club tonight and went in knowing little 8 year olds mom had her baby this morning and lil girl was now big sis if two#and knew she hadnt come from home bc her hair was a mess of someone who didnt know curls trying to do it lol#shes generally emotional and dramatic but we can all see that shes a lil more so tonight. understandably. lotsa change#well she kinda hinges on this one thing of not getting the verses said to earn a jewel bc she wasnt able to say them-- totally fine! we'll#practice and get them later! but shes distraught bc she worked on them with mum and wont get jewel so i keep telling her when we'll work on#them together and when ill listen to her and we can get it done. cool. then lesson time shes up and down sniffly and the lesson says smth#about childbirth-- bursts into disarray. i ask her if she wants to step out and we blow her nose and she keeps talking about the verse so i#tell her solutions for that and then shes working herself up so i work thru calming down and she goes from#“i think im mad” to “mom would let me do what i want!” and i know the real issue isnt the verse but thats what shes telling me so...#adult shes staying with cautiously steps in and she calms down to tell me “its not the verse... i think i miss my mom”#oh my heart i know honey i give her a hug and we talk about the sleeover shes going to have and when shes going to see mom#and shes sleeping next to lil sis so shes going to give sis a big hug and tell her theyre going to see mom in the morning#and then i ask her if she wants to go back and she does and i just hold her and hug her the whole time#i give her another squeeze when she leaves and tell her to enjoy her sleepover#her friend shes staying with i should not did a very sweet of coming over and saying “hey lookit this new book i got do you wanna color it#with me maybe?“ which was such an emotionally mature thing for her and to see lil kiddo cheer up warmed me#teachers we debriefed and talked about kids going thru stuff at home and not being able to tell and process their emotions and stuff#and then i shared with mum on the ride back and she goes “yup. lil toddler will just miss mom-- its trauma at this age. this is why i#panicked and called my mother to come for your sis's birth bc dad said he could handle you but my heart couldnt for what you would go thru.“#i was six when my sister was born. my grandma being there before consistently made me giddly excited in that time waiting for dad to bring#us to the hospital.#anyway my heart was full and im praying extra hard for two lil girls in a sleepover missing their mom tonight.#red's personal sitcom#Spotify
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monty-glasses-roxy · 14 days
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Horsies in the Plex if Roxy is a horse lover before she knows they've ever existed here is really good honestly. She's off exploring, finding random horse themed things and immediately drops what she's doing to run over to Vanessa with it like "LOOK WHAT I FOUND!!!" cause Vanessa also likes horsies and is the reason Roxy likes them so much in the first place.
Like it starts with a prop horseshoe or something. Then she's finding plushies and building a little collection of them, making sure to give Vanessa one every time she finds a new one. Then she finds a random ass saddle or a bunch of prop hay bales or something. A bridle. Some bit pieces. A harness for a wagon. The wagon itself. Horse action figures. Whatever else. She's been excited about every single thing she's found so far and wonders how much more there is to find...
Opens a new storage room door and she finds actual fucking horses. Deactivated, dusty as hell, animatronic horsies.
Fucking grabs Vanessa and takes off running into areas Vanessa is absolutely not allowed to be in at all to show her all the horsies sndjjd like "VANESSAA!!! THERE'S HORSES!!!! NESSA HORSES ARE REAL!!! THEY REALLY EXIST NESSA LOOOOK!!!!"
#there's so much fun with these horsies#listen she's got a special interest that makes her super happy#all tail wags and tippy taps while her four minis get so excited for her#biggest enablers of the special interest jdjdnid#oh and for the record vanessa does NOT have a special interest here. she was a horse kid growing up and still likes them#but she's nowhere near as interested anymore#Roxy just shows up and drops a horse plushie on her so excited about it and vanessa is...#well she's shocked cause where the fuck did that come from but also what do you MEAN it's hers??#this is the thing with roxy. her dog programming makes strong emotions really hard to contain#so she HAS to show her the horsies and she HAS to run loops around her to do it#when she's excited enough about something sitting still feels like a death sentence she's actually going to EXPLODE#she's a little bean!!! cute and adorable and a good bit overwhelming to the unprepared!!!#the downside is that thus carries over to sadness anger frustration and every other emotion she can feel#she can't contain shit. she can kind of mask with overconfidence but only if she's had time to calm down first#she's just so dog like that#fnaf security breach#roxanne wolf#plex history: horses#they have an official tag now because i love them#fnaf vanessa#yeah sure fuck it I'll tag them both shjdj#i just have this mental image of roxy running in at the end of nessa's shift to give her a pony plushie#but the day guard is there to swap with her so he bares witness to excited puppy roxy and is so fucking confused#she gets super embarrassed when she notices him but poppet and tippy are like 'hey... hes probably jealous'#and she fucking shoots off to go get him one too. fucking blasts the door down when she gets back to hand him a horsie#'tippy said you'd be jealous so i got you one too.' and he's so fucking confused cause who the FUCK is tippy???#Vanessa behind Roxy just nodding and gesturing to go with it and when he does she's both surprised and overjoyed he likes the horsies too#still embarrassed but HORSIES!!!#'where did you even get these??' 'found em!' 'yeah be where?' 'oh ya know... around.' '?????'#vanessa just tells him to drop it cause she doesn't have a clue either and that's obviously not about to change ever lmao
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essektheylyss · 1 year
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I have One (1) grad app essay left to write, and then like half of a fellowship app essay. And thank FUCKING god, frankly.
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todayisafridaynight · 9 months
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love my right-hand rgg men deranged. a little blood splattered even.
#snap chats#this post is about yoshitaka mine and jo sawashiro do NOT reblg and put anyone else in the tag or im egging your house#one of you rebellious bitches are gonna do that cause i said it now... unless we keep playin uno and we go#'oh but now that you said that i wont touch this post' OK WELL GOOD IM RAMBLING IN HERE !!!!! GET OUT !!!!!#dont get out. stay if you want. its dark down here i have two (2) candles burning this time and i feel like im summoning the devil#yeah i am summoning the devil the motherfucker that lives in my mind#im never getting to the point of this post. btw. im stringing all of you along. im cold. literally and figuratively.#mine never even got to be blood splattered..... hate this franchise..... unless we talkin ishin but ishin was a blood bath it dont count#anyway sorry (<- not) someone reminded me of majima being fake crazy about kandas head in the box#call that a dick in a box GOTTEM. fuck kanda all my homies hate kanda#and yeah...... sat here and started thinking and giggling and kicking my feet 🥰#sorry i mention the eye scene once a month but no other scene compares to it for me. it has everything i could ever want#🏳️‍🌈❓❓ behavior and raw gore and nothings more brutal then personally taking your thumb and sticking it in someones eye#always reminds me of that slipknot song.. Duality... and not the song called Eyeless.... hate this band....#like please its my crack its my meth its my drug of choice#knife scene good too for similar reasons....... but i do like the eye scene just .2% more... sorry... i like how gorier it is...#knife scene still raw as hell tho like UGH sorry love them. i love jo and mine cause they Seem calm for like .2 seconds and then theyre ill#their demeanors are so funny to me tho like mine's like Thoroughly professional near all the time but jo is just Slightly more vulgar#like jo more typically says crass/aggressive things while mine Genuinely most of the time is just 🧍‍♂️#very funny... love them all the same... <- said he was gonna draw but hasnt drawn shit#I SAW THE FIRST EPISODE OF KYOUEN (jdrama starring nakai) AND NOOO IT LOOKS SO SPICY I WANNA WATCH THE REST#but i made a promise..... so i'll save that binge session for the morn i suppose....#anyway dont look at me im giggling and twirling my hair at the thought of my Real Crazy bitches#i love them <- cant say this enough my heart will literally explode if i try to#stream chat got me thinkin a jo.... oopsie..... i refuse to say anything heinous Respect Your Elders etc etc#ok bye. im normal <- is going to go watch the eye scene again
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mars-ipan · 1 year
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honestly i don’t really think any mental illnesses have been like “destigmatized”- not fully at least. i think the stigma has just changed from demonization to “that’s not a real problem get over it god”
#obviously demonization is more Actively Harmful#but to say things like depression and anxiety have been destigmatized is. incorrect i feel#yes we are not treated like we’re evil. which is for sure an improvement#nobody deserves to be treated like they’re evil#but our illnesses are now being dismissed. ‘oh everyone has that’ not like me#‘you’re just being lazy’ i wish that were true#like. ok hold on let me use an example bc i’m worried abt reading comprehension on this website#(not my followers i trust u guys but i act as if every post i make will get popular)#my brother is autistic. i have GAD.#my brother was diagnosed when he was 2. he’s faced a lot of bullying from both kids and adults and it sucks and he didn’t deserve it#because of all that bullying (especially as a kid) he’s rejecting his autism and focusing really hard on being as ‘normal’ as possible#i was diagnosed last year at 17. i’ve been having these issues my whole life (my mom and i both saw it) but my issues were dismissed#by all the other adults around me (save for family) because i wasn’t visibly struggling and i was doing well in school#it made me doubt my convictions for a long time. what if i’m wrong?#as such i didn’t seek a diagnosis for a long time until my anxiety had gotten to a point where i knew i couldn’t keep ignoring it#now that i have that diagnosis i’m able to wield it as a weapon. my struggles aren’t made up#they’re real. and they always have been. and i can’t just ‘calm down’ like you can. and that needs to be respected#so while i think one is more actively harmful (bullying and harassment lead to self-rejection and loathing)#the other is also harmful- just passively (constantly being dismissed leads to self-doubt and not asking for help)#also why are people angry about the idea of a mental illness being destigmatized?#one group freeing itself from oppression isn’t gonna immediately forget about the groups who helped them get there#if i’m one day able to get perfect accomodations for my anxiety and nobody looks at me like i’m dramatic when i talk about it#i’m not gonna suddenly stop advocating for mental health issues to be normalized#if anything i’ll argue HARDER. you learned to understand me now learn to understand my siblings#learn to understand those with bpd. with psychosis. the sociopaths. the narcissists. the systems#i’m not gonna act like i have it worse than people who are heavily stigmatized. i’m not gonna get attacked for stuttering at mcdonalds#but that doesn’t mean i have /no/ problems and it doesn’t mean i think i’m better than anyone else#i don’t get why people fight each other about this. it’s a good thing so long as we remember where we came from
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