ghoulodont
ghoul teeth enjoyer
30±5 / they / lore contrarian
1417 posts
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
Last Seen Blogs
jonathansimz
now @ carterchilcott
agenbluegenicsurabaya
Agen Bluegenic Surabaya
bronzecats
Homestuck Art Hoard and Sundries
chose-mingarro
Esteban Dido
haefilms
♡
Text
my brain is completely cooked i keep meaning to post about mental illness & dewdrop but i cant hold a coherent train of thought. ill get there eventually
#this morning when i woke up i was seeing kaleidoscope colors#which i sometimes do but almost always around falling asleep or waking up which is a fairly acceptable time to hear things at least#idk about seeing things necessarily#anyway i barely ever hear voices and when i do its mostly “inside” my head like a thought rather than a sound#so really really just barely voices. but it happens#when i was seeing colors it said “hallucinating... 😏” okaaaay SHUT UP
2 notes
·
View notes
Note
Not the tooth anon but the things you find fascinating are fascinating. You always seem to see things from a diff angle that I wouldn’t have thought of. And that’s why your writing is so good. It’s really not like anyone else’s.
thank you so much. i honestly dont know what to say but that means a lot to me
1 note
·
View note
Text
tell me on anon what you'd never tell me off anon
No one is actually gonna do it but fuck it.
324K notes
·
View notes
Text
ok sorry i was going to put this in the replies but i have too much to say. this is a suuuuuper interesting topic. tldr i think what youre proposing makes sense but here are some more thoughts, disclaimer this is not well researched i dont mean for it to be like a Post so please imagine its just a long reply
basically the way teeth move is that theyre connected with a "ligament" (not really a ligament but a lot of various connective tissues. idk) to the bone in your mouth, and when something either natural or orthodontic exerts pressure on the tooth it can move a little bit (due to the ligament) and place uneven pressure on the bone, pushing in one direction and pulling in the other, and that in some way i dont really fully understand makes the bone be destroyed in the direction of pushing and created in the direction of pulling, basically making room and filling in the gap as the tooth moves. the remodeling of the bone is semi-permanently moving the tooth socket. so because of the motion allowed by the connective tissue changes the bone, theoretically someone with hypermobility could be exerting greater bone modeling forces on their alveolar bone due to their teeth moving? their teeth should be able to move more easily just in general.
the reason your teeth move back to how they were when you don't wear your retainer is first of all because your teeth may not be fully "settled in" to their new positions -- like all of the bone modeling stuff plus the ligament. but also the same way that braces or appliances can exert forces that move your teeth, other forces in your mouth (due to your bite, chewing, habits like clenching your jaw or whatever) can move your teeth the same way. so its never going to be "neutral" and your teeth are always going to try to shift around to adapt to their situation. and its all happening with the same mechanism.
but like almost anything with the human body a lot of how this works is not fully understood! and of course the same is very true for eds. so honestly anything is possible. but i think if you break it down to the simplest concepts its totally plausible. flexible ligaments = faster bone modeling = faster tooth motion, either because of braces or because of settling.
anecdotally, im fairly hypermobile but dont have eds and my teeth moved surprisingly quickly. the nature of braces is that your orthodontist will do something to you and then check back once its supposed to be done so it doesnt really lend itself well to this experimental scenario except..... with appliances & elastics, which you have to actually be compliant with. i did NOT wear my stupid appliance as much as i was supposed to because i hated it but the orthodontist always told me i was doing a good job. and then for retention i wore my retainer for years at night and i havent worn it for more years and my teeth have shifted but i dont think a whole lot. but thats just me
conducting some hEDS orthodontia research: does anyone else who wears a retainer feel like.. like your teeth move A LOT whenever you aren’t wearing the retainer?? like i wear mine every night and it still feels like i haven’t put it on in weeks every time such a snug fit and idk how to explain it- iykyk but like i can feel my teeth getting HELLA tugged on… i’m suspicious that my eds is to blame
#im assuming were all talking about an essix retainer -- the clear one that looks like invisalign?#when my original retainer cracked i got a new one and it was so so so stiff i thought it was going to pull my teeth out when#i tried to take it off. so in part it might just be the retainer#ok sorry for unleashing an essay upon your post
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
this is really pissing me off actually. besides the reductive take on ai the enemy of your enemy is not your friend. catholics are catholics. it doesnt matter what the dwarf from lord of the rings said about elves its not like that
my goodness do not put the "i agree with catholics about artificial intelligence" on my satanic dashboard please
#if your only objection to ai is that it doesnt “have a soul” you dont actually care about anyone real or theoretical whose job is being#automated#you are just being catholic
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
Catacombs Within
Approaching the threshold of a new era, an old omen looms. Part of the Blur Turns to Haze series.
Relationship: Raindrop
Characters: Dewdrop, Rain
Words: 1459
Mental Illness, Angst (sort of), its like an intervention type of scenario
Read below or on AO3
Rain checks his phone again. He pulls open his text conversation with Dewdrop. His most recent sent message — can we talk? — hovers unread at the bottom of the screen, timestamped fourteen minutes ago.
The rightmost digit of the clock increments — fifteen minutes ago, now.
Rain tosses his phone down on the bed with a sigh. He runs his hands over his face. Fifteen minutes ago, or a little longer, Dew had stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him. The events leading up to that moment, brief as they were, feel in retrospect like some surreal dream sequence, an out-of-control downward spiral that doesn’t quite add up.
Then again, maybe it was entirely logical and predictable. Rain knew it would be a sensitive subject. Maybe he just didn’t anticipate how sensitive it would be. For a while now, he had been considering when to bring it up, and how. He let that all go out the window when his concern became too large to suppress. It was impulsive, and that was stupid.
He gave Dew a measured fifteen minutes of leeway to act. Now that those fifteen minutes are up, it’s time for him to move on to the next step in his ad-hoc algorithm for conflict resolution.
Down the hall, under the slanted lights of the setting sun through the windows behind him, he knocks on Dew’s door — three sharp taps, even and mechanical. “Dew,” he calls, “it’s me.”
He waits, hands held behind his back. He strains to hear inside the closed room. If he focuses, head tipped to one side in the quiet corridor, he imagines he’s hearing footsteps.
Only a few breaths later, the door opens a sliver and Dew’s face peeks out through the opening.
“Can we talk?” Rain asks.
Dew pulls the door open slightly, revealing just a little bit more of his face. He doesn’t look angry. His expression is totally blank — it could be tranquil, out of context. It could be carved from stone.
“Can I come in?”
Dew seems to take a second to consider this, but then he nods and steps back from the door.
Rain slips inside and pushes the door closed. Dew immediately locks it behind them, the deadbolt sliding into place with a cold metallic clunk. He turns and leads the way into his room. Rain follows.
The two of them pause, standing aimlessly in the center of the room for an awkward moment, before Dew sits down on the edge of his bed. He looks up at Rain expectantly, wordlessly.
“Can I sit?” It’s the kind of thing Rain hasn’t asked in who knows how long — years, maybe. He’s slept in this bed countless times, spent hundreds of hours here awake and asleep and every state in between. But it seems prudent, so he asks.
Dew nods. His eyes dart away, gaze fixating to some empty spot on the wall.
Rain sits gently, like Dew is asleep and he’s trying not to wake him. The mattress creaks anyway, dips under his weight — indifferent to his consideration. They settle into silence, side by side.
“I’m sorry if I scared you,” Rain starts.
Dew shakes his head.
“I wanted to say, I’m not trying to get you in trouble or anything. I’m just worried about you. That’s all.”
“I know.”
“Okay.” Rain isn’t sure how to press further, or if he should. The words he holds inside of him — suggestions, judgments — feel like a loaded gun. He waits for Dew to say something first.
Dew fidgets, weaving his fingers together. When he speaks, his voice is quiet. “I didn’t— I don’t want to treat you like that.”
“It’s okay.”
“I mean, I don’t want to let you become part of it.”
“Part of...?” Part of it. Rain has already gathered what it is — he would argue that’s the reason for this entire situation in the first place — but he’s still not sure what it looks like from Dew’s perspective.
Dew wraps his arms around his own midsection. He looks like he’s trying to discreetly hold his body together, to contain something that would otherwise ooze out. “It’s all— It’s trying to destroy everything I have. It’s so clear.” He shakes his head. “So clear.”
Every statement Dew makes, every action, is like a drop of water in a bucket that now, once again, overflows. Rain can’t sit with his thoughts any longer. “Don’t you think you should talk to your psychiatrist, or—”
Dew suddenly stands up like he’s going to leave.
Rain grabs his wrist. “Wait, I’m sorry—”
Dew wrenches his hand away, but he freezes in place. He stands still, one stride away from the bed, facing the door.
“Can we talk about it?” Rain asks, quietly. The tension in the air glistens like ice, and carries the same chill. “Please?”
“Yeah.” Dew takes a tentative step toward the bed. He stands there for a moment before he sits back down. “Go ahead.”
Rain takes a breath, renewing his commitment to following his calculated talking points. “Honestly, I’ve been noticing things for weeks. I was going to—”
“You think I don’t realize?”
Rain looks up, and Dew is staring at him with a surreal intensity. “Well, I wasn’t sure—”
Dew shakes his head. “I’m the first one to notice. Always.” His eyes are watching so wholly, so wide, a complete departure from his previously averted gaze.
Rain can’t help but stare back. Dew’s focus is unwavering, his face expressionless. The nagging familiarity of it, distant, drips like a leaky faucet.
Dew blinks once. “There’s so much you don’t see.”
It’s something Rain accepted a long time ago, but it still hurts to hear. It gnaws at his chest, the reminder of that insurmountable barrier.
Dew’s eyes dig into Rain’s skin.
“Is it the same as...?” Rain doesn’t have a word for what should follow, but he doesn’t have to say it. He doesn’t have to say any of it, really. He already knows the answer.
“Yes. Yes, it’s like— like time is folded in on itself.”
Rain nods. It is familiar, this situation, drawing a clear connection to a moment in the past. The difference, now, is that it’s no longer unknown. Though between them it remains unnamed, it has a definite presence, if only as a concept, as an it.
It’s striking, though, how different it is, how strange it feels, considering this was the first Dew that Rain ever met — the one who was there when he was summoned, who he grew so close to within the nascent weeks of his life. This was the only Dew he knew, once. Now that he knows another Dew, a more established one, this one feels like nothing but a fragmentary imitation — like all that time was meaningless.
Rain watches him shake his head, as if telling an unseen something no, his eyes unfocused again.
Suddenly, Dew turns his whole body to face him, one leg falling askew onto the bed. “I need you to support me.”
“I do support you.”
“I mean, I need you to be on my side. Completely.”
“I am.” Rain reaches out and grasps Dew’s hand where it rests on the bed. “I am on your side.”
“You’re not. You don’t want me.”
Rain’s heart sinks. “I just don’t want you to be sick.”
Dew scoffs, a sort of casually dismissive noise, incongruous with the weight of the present discussion. “You don’t know what you’re asking from me.”
“Then tell me. Please.”
Dew shakes his head, a serene smile washing over his features.
“I want to support you,” Rain pushes.
Dew clambers over the short distance between them to straddle Rain’s lap, planting himself down and pinning Rain’s legs to the bed with his weight. “Then treat me like there’s nothing wrong.”
Rain doesn’t resist as Dew wraps him in an embrace, arms draped loosely around his neck. He can feel the rise and fall of Dew’s breaths where their chests come together. He places his hands on Dew’s hips, resting them there without restricting, careful not to hold too tight.
Dew leans closer. He presses his face into the side of Rain’s neck, the air of his exhale brushing past Rain’s collarbone. For a moment, all that matters is that they’re alive, both of them — lungs respiring, hearts beating, entire beings emergent from a collection of cells and signals — until reality returns with all its nuance and uncertainty.
“I don’t know if I can do that,” Rain says, “because I still think you need to talk to your psychiatrist.”
When Dew hums, Rain can feel the vibration of it through the convergence of skin against skin. “I’ll do it tomorrow.”
Somehow, it feels like tomorrow might never arrive.
#ok one more time i think#thank you gremlin for the comment on ao3 im going to respond when im more coherent#thank you moth also for the tags#i want to make a separate post too talking about my thoughts#but in short thank you for understanding me
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
@everybodyshusband adjacent notes in the chromatic scale have similar fingering but they dont necessarily follow any greater pattern across multiple notes, at least for oboe. diatonic scales feel much more logical. g is the best one (g-a-b-c-d-e-f#-g)
im so obsessed with the geometry of string instruments. ive made this post before but im thinking about it again. the adjacent notes are actually next to each other. i played the oboe in grade school and learning a chromatic scale felt like a significant mental and physical exertion
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
string instruments are so honest. in contrast a wind instrument is extremely devious and full of misdirections. a bunch of the keys move other keys on some faraway part of the instrument. idk i didnt think about it or care how it worked, i feel like thats to the same point
im so obsessed with the geometry of string instruments. ive made this post before but im thinking about it again. the adjacent notes are actually next to each other. i played the oboe in grade school and learning a chromatic scale felt like a significant mental and physical exertion
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
im so obsessed with the geometry of string instruments. ive made this post before but im thinking about it again. the adjacent notes are actually next to each other. i played the oboe in grade school and learning a chromatic scale felt like a significant mental and physical exertion
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
and i just want to say having experienced a before and after: the experience of therapy when you have schizophrenia is so demeaning. i used to talk about abstract problems and now its like, are you doing ok at work. do you go to the grocery store. did you do laundry
0 notes
Text
and btw its not personal and not anyone elses failure of understanding or even technically my own failure to express things i just get like this i think. at the beginning of my first episode i spent a long time like a significant amount of my free time having conversations with myself because i felt there was no point in talking to anyone else. its all related
#im just noticing it coming back#for example in therapy she asks me a question or tries to get me to talk about something and#idk its like a fake conversation#i do it for her even though im paying her#you know when youre talking to someone youre not really comfortable with and you just sort of go along w it and bend the details as needed#like that but with a therapist so whats the point#i kind of want to stop going but thats a different problem
0 notes
Text
Catacombs Within
Approaching the threshold of a new era, an old omen looms. Part of the Blur Turns to Haze series.
Relationship: Raindrop
Characters: Dewdrop, Rain
Words: 1459
Mental Illness, Angst (sort of), its like an intervention type of scenario
Read below or on AO3
Rain checks his phone again. He pulls open his text conversation with Dewdrop. His most recent sent message — can we talk? — hovers unread at the bottom of the screen, timestamped fourteen minutes ago.
The rightmost digit of the clock increments — fifteen minutes ago, now.
Rain tosses his phone down on the bed with a sigh. He runs his hands over his face. Fifteen minutes ago, or a little longer, Dew had stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him. The events leading up to that moment, brief as they were, feel in retrospect like some surreal dream sequence, an out-of-control downward spiral that doesn’t quite add up.
Then again, maybe it was entirely logical and predictable. Rain knew it would be a sensitive subject. Maybe he just didn’t anticipate how sensitive it would be. For a while now, he had been considering when to bring it up, and how. He let that all go out the window when his concern became too large to suppress. It was impulsive, and that was stupid.
He gave Dew a measured fifteen minutes of leeway to act. Now that those fifteen minutes are up, it’s time for him to move on to the next step in his ad-hoc algorithm for conflict resolution.
Down the hall, under the slanted lights of the setting sun through the windows behind him, he knocks on Dew’s door — three sharp taps, even and mechanical. “Dew,” he calls, “it’s me.”
He waits, hands held behind his back. He strains to hear inside the closed room. If he focuses, head tipped to one side in the quiet corridor, he imagines he’s hearing footsteps.
Only a few breaths later, the door opens a sliver and Dew’s face peeks out through the opening.
“Can we talk?” Rain asks.
Dew pulls the door open slightly, revealing just a little bit more of his face. He doesn’t look angry. His expression is totally blank — it could be tranquil, out of context. It could be carved from stone.
“Can I come in?”
Dew seems to take a second to consider this, but then he nods and steps back from the door.
Rain slips inside and pushes the door closed. Dew immediately locks it behind them, the deadbolt sliding into place with a cold metallic clunk. He turns and leads the way into his room. Rain follows.
The two of them pause, standing aimlessly in the center of the room for an awkward moment, before Dew sits down on the edge of his bed. He looks up at Rain expectantly, wordlessly.
“Can I sit?” It’s the kind of thing Rain hasn’t asked in who knows how long — years, maybe. He’s slept in this bed countless times, spent hundreds of hours here awake and asleep and every state in between. But it seems prudent, so he asks.
Dew nods. His eyes dart away, gaze fixating to some empty spot on the wall.
Rain sits gently, like Dew is asleep and he’s trying not to wake him. The mattress creaks anyway, dips under his weight — indifferent to his consideration. They settle into silence, side by side.
“I’m sorry if I scared you,” Rain starts.
Dew shakes his head.
“I wanted to say, I’m not trying to get you in trouble or anything. I’m just worried about you. That’s all.”
“I know.”
“Okay.” Rain isn’t sure how to press further, or if he should. The words he holds inside of him — suggestions, judgments — feel like a loaded gun. He waits for Dew to say something first.
Dew fidgets, weaving his fingers together. When he speaks, his voice is quiet. “I didn’t— I don’t want to treat you like that.”
“It’s okay.”
“I mean, I don’t want to let you become part of it.”
“Part of...?” Part of it. Rain has already gathered what it is — he would argue that’s the reason for this entire situation in the first place — but he’s still not sure what it looks like from Dew’s perspective.
Dew wraps his arms around his own midsection. He looks like he’s trying to discreetly hold his body together, to contain something that would otherwise ooze out. “It’s all— It’s trying to destroy everything I have. It’s so clear.” He shakes his head. “So clear.”
Every statement Dew makes, every action, is like a drop of water in a bucket that now, once again, overflows. Rain can’t sit with his thoughts any longer. “Don’t you think you should talk to your psychiatrist, or—”
Dew suddenly stands up like he’s going to leave.
Rain grabs his wrist. “Wait, I’m sorry—”
Dew wrenches his hand away, but he freezes in place. He stands still, one stride away from the bed, facing the door.
“Can we talk about it?” Rain asks, quietly. The tension in the air glistens like ice, and carries the same chill. “Please?”
“Yeah.” Dew takes a tentative step toward the bed. He stands there for a moment before he sits back down. “Go ahead.”
Rain takes a breath, renewing his commitment to following his calculated talking points. “Honestly, I’ve been noticing things for weeks. I was going to—”
“You think I don’t realize?”
Rain looks up, and Dew is staring at him with a surreal intensity. “Well, I wasn’t sure—”
Dew shakes his head. “I’m the first one to notice. Always.” His eyes are watching so wholly, so wide, a complete departure from his previously averted gaze.
Rain can’t help but stare back. Dew’s focus is unwavering, his face expressionless. The nagging familiarity of it, distant, drips like a leaky faucet.
Dew blinks once. “There’s so much you don’t see.”
It’s something Rain accepted a long time ago, but it still hurts to hear. It gnaws at his chest, the reminder of that insurmountable barrier.
Dew’s eyes dig into Rain’s skin.
“Is it the same as...?” Rain doesn’t have a word for what should follow, but he doesn’t have to say it. He doesn’t have to say any of it, really. He already knows the answer.
“Yes. Yes, it’s like— like time is folded in on itself.”
Rain nods. It is familiar, this situation, drawing a clear connection to a moment in the past. The difference, now, is that it’s no longer unknown. Though between them it remains unnamed, it has a definite presence, if only as a concept, as an it.
It’s striking, though, how different it is, how strange it feels, considering this was the first Dew that Rain ever met — the one who was there when he was summoned, who he grew so close to within the nascent weeks of his life. This was the only Dew he knew, once. Now that he knows another Dew, a more established one, this one feels like nothing but a fragmentary imitation — like all that time was meaningless.
Rain watches him shake his head, as if telling an unseen something no, his eyes unfocused again.
Suddenly, Dew turns his whole body to face him, one leg falling askew onto the bed. “I need you to support me.”
“I do support you.”
“I mean, I need you to be on my side. Completely.”
“I am.” Rain reaches out and grasps Dew’s hand where it rests on the bed. “I am on your side.”
“You’re not. You don’t want me.”
Rain’s heart sinks. “I just don’t want you to be sick.”
Dew scoffs, a sort of casually dismissive noise, incongruous with the weight of the present discussion. “You don’t know what you’re asking from me.”
“Then tell me. Please.”
Dew shakes his head, a serene smile washing over his features.
“I want to support you,” Rain pushes.
Dew clambers over the short distance between them to straddle Rain’s lap, planting himself down and pinning Rain’s legs to the bed with his weight. “Then treat me like there’s nothing wrong.”
Rain doesn’t resist as Dew wraps him in an embrace, arms draped loosely around his neck. He can feel the rise and fall of Dew’s breaths where their chests come together. He places his hands on Dew’s hips, resting them there without restricting, careful not to hold too tight.
Dew leans closer. He presses his face into the side of Rain’s neck, the air of his exhale brushing past Rain’s collarbone. For a moment, all that matters is that they’re alive, both of them — lungs respiring, hearts beating, entire beings emergent from a collection of cells and signals — until reality returns with all its nuance and uncertainty.
“I don’t know if I can do that,” Rain says, “because I still think you need to talk to your psychiatrist.”
When Dew hums, Rain can feel the vibration of it through the convergence of skin against skin. “I’ll do it tomorrow.”
Somehow, it feels like tomorrow might never arrive.
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
do you ever get that thing when you’re thinking of a fic in your head and it’s so beautiful to you but it would cost you too much to write it and too much fighting with yourself to put on paper, so it just continually spins around like one of those 3D renders until the end of time
#every fic ive written has an ideal version that remains in this state and sometimes i bring it out and have a look#tbh ive considered editing some of my older fics#its crazy that its been long enough that i can consider some of my fics “my older fics”
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
ghumblr if we werent all vaguing each other all the time
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
my goodness do not put the "i agree with catholics about artificial intelligence" on my satanic dashboard please
6 notes
·
View notes