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#these feelings are new
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When you're up for it, possibly a Pitaya Dragon Cookie X Reader 👀👀👀
Fragile.
So…fragile, that’s what cookies are to dragons. Artificial beings made by giants that outsized even the mighty reptiles by hundreds. Dragons were massive compared to cookies and much hardier as well, the one looking upon your form is quite infamous as well. The legendary greenish-red dragon, the scourge of the Hollyberry Kingdom who brought devastating firestorms across Earthbread hundreds of years ago.
Pitaya Dragon Cookie.
Rather in cookie or dragon form this mighty beast was nothing short of a monster. They brought death and destruction wherever they flew, shattered kingdoms and took joy in the suffering they caused. Because it was fun, because they could, because they couldn’t find another to spar and battle. After Hollyberry left the kingdom Pitaya had been restless and bored, taking their frustrations out on everything they “ruled”.
But then you showed up, you were a new servant to the palace and what basically became a right of passage you had to personally deliver a barrel of Berry juice to the beast. Pitaya didn’t pay you much mind at first, you were just another weak cookie doing your job…until you came again, and again, and again. They learned you personally took the job to deliver their berry juice yourself, a job the others more than happily handed to you.
Pitaya had chosen to observe you a bit more, you were different from the other maids, butlers, and servants but they just couldn’t put a claw as to WHY.
The monster of the Hollyberry jungle didn’t understand why you lingered in their mind so much, but they believed they found the answer when they saw you fight. They were bored so they pitted all the servants against each other so they could watch and you….you were so fast and struck powerfully! But any hit done to you struck equally as hard, it was…quite a spectacle to watch. But as you beat down each servant their mind started to swirl.
They’ve found the new cookie they want to fight~.
Oh, your face when they told you was hilarious! But they gave you no choice as not long after they lunged at your terrified form which you dodged in the nick of time. They came at you again and again until you had nowhere to run anymore, no more playing games then~.
Pitaya flew back in surprise as you tore one of the axes from the armor stands and swung at them, racing towards the dragon cookie with great speed. The creature roared with laughter and they finally got what they wanted, a worthy opponent to fight! The focused look on your face was amazing, pupils small and never leaving their form.
You ran, dodged, and ducked under fire, claw, tail, and sword strike. You’d get sent flying when you did get hit but then you’d get right back up just as quickly. It was a great enough sight to make Pitaya drool from excitement, the monster showing no mercy in response to you.
You just kept fighting and fighting, by the time the fight ended armor was destroyed, walls crumbled and windows shattered.
Now here they were, looking at you curled up on the ground beaten with jam flowing from their claw marks. You were in pain, but you were smiling, laughing even.
You got the fight the legendary dragon and it pleased you so greatly, you didn’t even care if the foolish desire was about to get you killed. But Pitaya watched you with curiosity, they had not gone for the finishing blow like normal…they observed you. Something struck them in their chest, deep in the soul stone. They…didn’t like seeing you hurt, they didn’t like being the reason for your pain.
The dragon was so confused, but you wouldn’t die. Not here, not by their claws.
As gently as they could manage, they picked your fragile body up and left towards the palace infirmary. Their mind was a swirl of emotion and thoughts they couldn’t understand…because they’ve never felt this before. They just felt the urge to care for you, to treat you, to make sure you never left them. Maybe this was because Hollyberry left or maybe they were that bored.
The why didn’t matter to them now, all they had to focus on what getting you healed. Even now you’re still fighting, fighting to keep yourself awake so you can keep gazing upon them. You wouldn’t say out loud that you had fallen for the beast, yes you knew of the terrible things they did and still do but you couldn’t help it. And now you got to duel them, today was a good day in your mind.
Pitaya looked down at your face and saw you smiling at them…reminded them of dragon mates. Smiling and happy with each other after another duel to show their power to one another. It was an intimate form to them, when between two or more mates it’s a special feeling…is that what you were trying to do? Flirt with them in the draconic language?
…Cookies, they’re so fragile and can be so foolish.
Yet they continue to get up to fight for what they want, fragile yet powerful…they supposed that’s what made cookies and by extension you…so interesting.
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owlpellet · 6 months
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i thought my laptop was on its last leg because it was running at six billion degrees and using 100% disk space* at all times and then i turned off shadows and some other windows effects and it was immediately cured. i just did the same to my roommate's computer and its performance issues were also immediately cured. okay. i guess.
so i guess if you have creaky freezy windows 10/11 try searching "advanced system settings", go to performance settings, and uncheck "show shadows under windows" and anything else you don't want. hope that helps someone else.
*yes sorry i mean usage i posted this before bed :( i do not mean the hard drive is full aaaaghhhh
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goldensunset · 7 months
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advice i think we should tell children is that when adults say stuff like ‘now that i’m an adult i get really excited about stuff like coffee tables and bathrooms and rugs etc’ they don’t mean ‘and now i don’t care about blorbo and squimbus from my childhood tv shows anymore’ bc your average adult still loves all the same pop culture stuff they always did; they just have a greater appreciation for the mundane as well. growing up just means you can enjoy life twice as much now. you can get really excited about a new stuffed animal AND about a new kitchen sponge. peace and love
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captainsaltypear · 2 months
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IS ANYONE ELSE GONNA TALK ABOUT THIS OR
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hamletthedane · 2 months
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I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.
What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.
What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.
What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.
The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.
And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.
But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.
I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.
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brick-brooke · 7 months
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yanderemeganekko · 7 days
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gibbearish · 5 months
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love when ppl defend the aggressive monetization of the internet with "what, do you just expect it to be free and them not make a profit???" like. yeah that would be really nice actually i would love that:)! thanks for asking
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blueskittlesart · 7 days
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sharing mana
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setaflow · 4 months
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Gay pride happens in June and gay wrath happens whenever hbomberguy drops a 3+ hour video essay about a specific topic
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cozylittleartblog · 8 months
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@staff if you [change] the [design] of the fucking [dashboard] i will kill you
edit. i want it on the actual post that i am not actually making a de-th threat against the staff. that's shitty. the caption quotes the fucking costco hot dog meme, which i originally said in the tags. if any staff member sees this please do Not take it personally
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panthermouthh · 3 months
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“Accursed creator! Why did you form a monster so hideous that even you turned from me in disgust?”
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muffinlance · 10 months
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We've been working with toddler on using his words instead of screaming when something happens that he doesn't like
Which has lead to:
Toddler, upon accidentally dropping a toy: ANGER ANGER ANGER!
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teaboot · 10 months
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When I was a kid, I regularly lost reading privileges for "having an attitude" and "acting out".
It wasn't as simple as being told not to read during other activities- one of the first times it happened, I remember being six years old, watching my stepfather pull fistfuls of books off my bookshelf and throw them to the floor in a heaping mess while I cried and asked him to stop.
It was weird. Every other adult I knew described me as exceptionally well-behaved, but at home, it was the opposite, and it was blamed on "learning bad habits from that shit you're reading".
Because I couldn't read at home, I spent all my free time at school in the library, reading with my friends.
When I grew up and moved away, I realized that my family life was toxic and abusive, and the "attitudes" I was being punished for were standing up for myself, standing up for my younger siblings, and resisting actual, real-life psychological abuse. Because I'd learned from what I'd read that my family wasn't normal, not like my parents said it was, and in my stories, the heroes were the people who spoke out when it was hard to.
It is insane to me that there are students right now who can't access books. It is insane that books are being outlawed. It is perverse that we are stealing away an entire generation's ability to contextualize their lives, to learn about the world around them, to develop critical thinking skills and express themselves and feel connected to the world or escape from it, whatever and whenever and however they need.
That is not how you raise a compassionate, thoughtful, powerful society.
That's how you process cattle.
It's fucking disgusting.
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