Too many people i know irl follow my main @im-too-embarrassed - Tumblr Blog

Met with a speech therapist today. She was very nice and informative but also told me straight-up that she wasn’t as well versed on EDS as she’d like but that she’d done a lot of research leading up to our appointment.

We talked for a bit about EDS and MCAS in general, before discussing how I’ve been handling my dysphagia by myself.

She told me I was already doing everything she’d tell me to do and unless I wanted to do a barium swallow study (possibly not a good idea with MCAS) there wasn’t much else she’d recommend, and it seemed like I had a good handle on it.

I appreciated that honesty and expressed thankfulness to know I was already doing all the right things.

Got home a few hours ago and saw my mychart had updated with some test results. Checked those, then on a whim checked the summary notes from the speech therapist.

Top line of the summary just says, “Patient knows more than me.”

I mean, A+ for humility, I guess 😂

alto-viola

"How did everyone fall for him despite of the obvious red flags?"

An IRL recently asked me this and I think it's good to share my response here, too.

Since the very beginning William Gold sold us, his fan base, on the idea that Wilbur Soot was his digital persona. A fictional character / alter ego he acted through. In SootHouse, in the ARG, the comedy songs, and in normal streams. Wil was meant as a parody of incel culture. So anything super alarm worthy was dismissed as in character.

This became a major problem for Wil when the DSMP exploded in popularity. As suddenly thousands of new eyes were on the first song of the Boyfriend Trilogy and his old work. Wil rushed to remove the most offensive and criticized works of his. He had to morph the Wil character from a creepy freak into a more tolerable one; landing on a charming, self aware, famous egomaniac.

He made this switch and tried to paint more separation between 'himself', Wilbur Soot the character, and DSMP!Wilbur. But often would use it as a shield for criticism. When he said rude / did things people assumed it was a joke.

That's why he got away with this for so long. He openly joked about biting Niki all the time and we, the fans, didn't bat an eye. It's not the audience's fault for having literal years of content telling us not to take him seriously.

lamaery

8 - Design // SPOILERS for Rhythm of War and Yumi

Well, well, well … since I do have some lineart for the scene in which we are properly introduced to Design lying around on my shelved-project-shelf, I took the opportunity to try colour some bits of it. That cryptic is such a delight. I am sure she would have been brilliant at annoying Elhokar as well. But I guess Hoid kind of deserves her, too.

headspace-hotel

Meanwhile, in Arkansas...

cgaratenby-deactivated20220830

*sighs* and i thought Johnny Cash was the one thing the whole country could agree on. the conservatives liked the melodies and the liberals liked the lyrics. guess not

byjove

Nah. This is paying mad homage to him. I think a guy who released live chickens into the audience at a show and ruined the plumbing in a hotel by flushing cherry bombs down the toilet would think this is the funniest thing ever. If there is one thing Johnny Cash loved more than telling the tales of rural America, it’s criminal mischief.

onsomekindofstartrek

Johnny was a hero of mine. He was invited to perform at the White House and he looked Nixon dead in the eye and sang protest songs to him.

When other artists of his generation were scoffing at my generation's music, he was covering Nine Inch Nails while terminally ill.

There are a thousand stories about Johnny Cash. It's believed he was the first American to know that Stalin was dead. He accidentally killed the condors when his engine started a forest fire. He vowed to wear all black until there was justice on Earth, and he died wearing black.

But the most salient thing of all to me is that this is a man who, at the height of his fame, gave free concerts to prisoners. That photo of him giving the finger? He's giving it to a guard at Folsom Prison in front of the assembled prison population.

Yeah, I think Johnny would have thought this was funny as hell.

discodeerdiary

Y'all have got to get better at handling uncertainty. Sometimes two people will have a falling out and you legitimately won't be able to tell which one was the abuser and which one was the victim. Sometimes you'll encounter a stranger online who might be a channer troll trying to stir shit up or might be a deeply traumatized person trying their hardest to speak their truth. That person with the gendery vibes might be a trans egg or they might be a cis person who just does whatever the hell they want. You have got to learn to act appropriately when you can't know everything.

discodeerdiary

The alternative is developing really silly forensic pseudoscience so you can draw up instant answers. Sadly this is extremely popular on the internet.

orlissa

Hi,

It’s you friendly neighbor fanfic author here. In the light of this apparent new trend of people feeding unfinished fics to AI to get an “ending,” and some people even talking about “blanket permissions,” let me just say this:

I EXPLICITLY FORBID ANYONE TO FEED MY FICS TO AI. DUDE, THAT IS ABOUT THE LEAST RESPECTFUL THING YOU CAN DO. IF YOU DO IT, SHALL YOU BE EXCOMMUNICATED FROM YOUR FANDOM AND WALK ON LEGOS BAREFOOT TILL THE END OF DAYS.

That is my anti-permission.

Thank you for your attention.

aragornsrockcollection

So Luthien’s genes are STRONG right? Like basically everyone down to Arwen in her line is described as looking just like her.

When he arrives in Valinor I mostly see Elrond depicted as making the first move in reaching out to Elwing, which is smart because Elwing doesn’t know how she’ll be received after all those years, so giving him control of the situation is respectful.

But also she is a mother who hasn’t seen her child since he was six, (six thousand years ago), and she must be desperate to see him, the smartest approach might not be relevant to her emotional state.

So Elrond might be visited immediately upon arrival by a woman who looks quite a bit like Luthien.

And he’s never met Luthien. So really what he sees is someone who looks

JUST LIKE ARWEN.

Imagine the shock. The tears. Both of them crying for the children they lost to mortality. To the relationships they lost to war and terrible circumstances. The chaos, the drama. Bonding as grieving parents before bonding as mother and son.

I just think about this a lot.

starfishdrawz

Gettem wolfwood

lintamande

The only information we have on Elven childhood and maturation comes from Laws and Customs of the Eldar (Histories of Middle-earth Volume X).

For at the end of the third year mortal children began to outstrip the Elves, hastening on to a full stature while the Elves lingered in the first spring of childhood. Children of Men might reach their full height while Eldar of the same age were still in body like to mortals of no more than seven years. Not until the fiftieth year did the Eldar attain the stature and shape in which their lives would after- wards endure, and for some a hundred years would pass before they were full-grown.

In other words, Elves grow almost as quickly as Men until their third birthday and then slow dramatically. They look seven when Men are reaching adulthood. They come of age at fifty but often aren’t fully grown until 100 - so fifty might be the human equivalent of 17 or 18, when adolescents come of age in most societies, while 100 is the equivalent of 25, when the human brain actually finishes maturing. Then, of course, Elves cease to grow altogether. Now it’d be really useful to have a graph showing Elven ages versus the comparable human maturities, so ‘thirty-five-year-old Elf’ actually means something. And if we just connect the dots between our data points, we get a really ugly and uneven growth pattern. We want something that starts fast and then levels out, eventually becoming asymptotic (no matter how long they live, Elves will never reach the physical age of a human 30-year-old).

The obvious solution is a logistic curve, usually used in population growth and resource saturation models. I had to modify it a little bit to manage the fact that Elves grow at the same rate as Men for the first three years of their lives (that’s the ugly little start to the curve there), but from three forward Tolkien’s statements on Elven aging can be perfectly modeling by a logistic function. I set the asymptote at 27: no matter how long an Elf lives, their body will never mature past the physical age of a human 27-year-old. At 18, 19, or 20 years old, an Elf will look 7. At fifty, they’ll be 18. At 100, 26. Just like Tolkien specified, sort of.

So now we can answer all the urgent questions of the legendarium. Maeglin was 12 when Eöl named him; how old is the human equivalent? About five and a half. In the Annals of Aman Fëanor is 16 when his father remarries: what is the equivalent? Six and three-quarters.

In my timeline for the birth of the Finwean grandchildren, Maedhros is forty when Fingon is born: what does that translate to? 14 and a half. What age-equivalent are Galadriel’s big brothers when she’s born? Twenty-one, fifteen, and nine respectively.

The second, zoomed-in graph doesn’t show the curve well but it makes it easy to find age-equivalents yourself.

abadpoetwithdreams

This is brilliant.

elamarth-calmagol

Thank you! This is so helpful!

ezrul-00

he is easily in my top 10 cattle farmers

truegoist-deactivated20260507

Imagine trying to play football and all of a sudden your opponent turns that into a therapy session

truegoist-deactivated20260507

And then he’s like

missmrah

I needed to give myself a little extra incentive to voluntarily practice drawing cars… it’s a work in progress 😅

god uh george is real bad at gift giving huh

#georgenotfound

bastardbvby

george’s smile and never ending laugh. the clear inside joke that dnf are excluding everyone else from. dream cradling the plushie. george full on in tears while dream hits him with it. everything about this is perfect

jramseyi

Pet Dragon

dateagirlwhosweird

date a selkie, but don’t hide her cloak. let her go home and visit her family now and then, knowing that she’ll come back and hang her seal cloak in the closet like she always does. trust is important.

lustfulpasiphae

The first time she lets the redhead take her home, she’s diligent about hiding her cloak. She folds it carefully against tears and rips and abrasions, and hides it in a sea cave whose entrance is concealed by the tide.

She does the same, the second and third and fourth times, careful, wary, mindful of her mother’s lessons. Remembers the way her mother’s hands had chafed on her soft cheeks, rough with cooking and cleaning for her fisherman husband, the way her mother’s peat-dark eyes had been tense and harsh with the lesson.

“Mind me, Niahm. Never let them find your cloak.”

The way her mother’s mouth had curved, a sickle of dissatisfaction and relief and envy, as she had escaped into the waves.

So she minds her mother’s lesson, and she takes care with her cloak.

Would that she had taken as much care with her heart.

The fifth time, she wears the cloak to the girl’s door, clutched about her throat, dripping along the darkened lanes.

She enters the home, welcomed with soft kisses and gentle touches and kindling passion. She drapes the cloak, artful in her carelessness, across an old wooden chair, the one that creaks and tilts slightly if you don’t sit just right.

When she wakes, in the wee hours of the morning, even before her lover, the cloak still rests, supple and dappled by the sea, on the back of the chair.

She frowns into the softening dawn, dons the cloak, and returns to the sea.

And again, the sixth time. And the seventh.

The eighth time, she finally breaks, prickling and hurt with longing, gripping a handful of russet hair in her hand, firm with emphasis.

“Surely you know what I am,” she says to her lover, the cool froth of sea foam and the call of gulls curling around her voice.

“Of course,” her lover responds, soft and tender in the dawnlight, throat arched willingly, pale as the inner whorls of a shell. “You taste of the sea,” the girl whispers, reverently.

She shakes her lover’s head gently, fingers tangled still in russet locks. “Why?” she demands. “Why won’t you keep me?”

A long silence that waits and fills, like a tidepool, stretches between them. Cool as a current. Deep as the Channel.

Her lover’s eyes are dark and tender. “Must I trap you to keep you, my heart? Is that the shape of love that you desire?”

She sinks into the thought, struck and stymied, remembering her mother’s harsh hands, her cold eyes. Her hand eases into russet waves, caresses where her grip had punished. Her lips press cool and damp as the sea against the arching curve of her lover’s shoulder. “What shape of love will you give to me?”

The answer is easy, quick, certain. “Myself. Only myself, whenever you should wish it. Your cloak by the door, your body in my bed, and the freedom to go, whenever you must. As long as you wish.”

It’s not an answer a fisherman could ever give, nor would think to.

The ninth time, she hangs her cloak by the door, draped in careful dappled folds next to a drying oilskin jacket.

divide-by-triple-zero

i say this every time it crosses my dash but i’m so freaking happy someone liked my submission and Wrote Stuff and it’s so good!!! i love these girls so so so so much

lustfulpasiphae

This post is like the only Worthy Thing i have ever done on this website and you made that possible, you rock <3