#tw temperature | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

faeriekit · 7 months

Text

Health and Hybrids (XIII)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWOis here PART THREEis here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here PART SIX is here and PART SEVEN is here PART EIGHT is here PART NINE is here PART TEN is here PART ELEVEN is here PART TWELVE is here and this is part thirteen??? Hello??

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts

Where we last left off...

Trigger warnings for this story: body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) | my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

…Bart doesn’t really do patience.

He doesn’t have to, so he doesn’t. Growing up in a world that wasn’t exactly real didn’t make for a real strong understanding of reality, or timing, or estimating how long something takes, or how long it would take a garden-variety human to complete a task.

He sits in the chair. He kicks his legs.

So. Bart doesn’t really do patience. When he wants to make his way through a book, it takes a few seconds to read through the whole thing at his standard pace. It’s great! Finishing the Troy Dodson series had taken ten minutes. He watched the full set of movies on quadruple-fast mode in about half an hour, and then still had the time to show up to the tower for trivia with the team that afternoon. It had been Crash!

And when—when Bart had wanted to learn how to cook, he went through half the recipes in Ma Kent’s copy of The Delights of Cooking in two days flat. And that was with missions. He even taught himself how to prepare squirrel from the back of the book! It tasted…uh, weird, sure, but that might have been his substitution of Caribbean jerk seasoning for garlic powder.

Patience is… Well, when Bart is on a mission and he has to wait for everyone to go at a human-comprehensible speed when laying out the plan of action, that’s patience. Sometimes he jumps the gun a little, maybe—but usually it all works out!

And when Bart has to wait for Barry and Wally to be free and off work for their day jobs, because they’re adults with real world things they have to do and Bart’s just—well, he’s—he tries to be patient! And he distracts himself with other things, and he takes the time to explore the world and get in new experiences he couldn’t have before in his own little virtual world, and he tries new things, and he eats new foods, and then Wally or Barry shoot him a text or ring him up and then he’s back in town in seconds anyway!

…But there isn’t a way to speed this along.

The doctor with the cute cat lanyard and Wonder Woman both have been trying to explain to Bart how bad the damage is. But Bart can tell. He has eyes.

His friend is physical now, but he’s not…right. His face is caved in, like someone hit him really really hard, or someone gouged out the whole front face of his skull—Bart can’t see any red matter, but that’s because of the pulsing green sheath that’s covered all of his friend’s open injuries.

And there’s a lot of green.

That means he’s super injured. Bart can see most of his glowing green not-face through the window of the metal tube his friend is sleeping in.

It’s not just his missing face, his crooked jaw, or his barely-moving chest, or his green-soaked fingers anyway; there’s open pits in his chest, slathered in green goo that shifts when he breathes and glows just a little in the odd light of the medical wing, lumpy and half-scarred from stitches that were sloppily applied. Utilitarian.

Tim told Bart that the sutures were probably meant more to prevent extra clean-up in a lab setting than to keep Bart’s friend alive.

…Bart doesn’t really want to think about that.

There are lime-tinged scrapes and scars across and around his friend's hands and up his arms, verdant-veined legs that aren’t exactly the right shape and orientation legs should be, crevasses in his stomach, his chest, against his collarbone, and the clawed-out pit where a face should be.

All green. So green. Like grass… Like the Earth, when Bart comes home from space.

It’s scary. It’s frightening.

Wonder Woman gave Bart a hug and said it would be okay when the Medical team started to apply white-swathed casts around misaligned legs, and Bart almost cried. The medical team thinks the green is his friend’s body working on healing him. That Bart’s friend will be okay.

Bart lets everyone say comforting things, because it’s kind when everybody’s kind. But Bart’s been an experiment in healing the unhealable and he knows as much as anyone else does that there’s simply no way to know if his friend will be okay.

But his friend isn’t alone like he was. Bart makes sure of it.

So he sits at his friend’s bedside, eats a granola bar, kicks his feet in the stiff chair Medical had to offer him, and Bart practices his patience.

By the end of this, he might even be good at it.

#Medical is just holding a bunch of clip boards with question marks on them #“So...what temperature is he meant to be???”#“uh”#“hm.”#“The green stuff is...part of him. Right?” “...yeah? Maybe?”#We got ONE partially-formed teenager!!#sure he's missing a lot of his face. Oh well!#dp x dc #danny phantom #tw gore #tw body horror #health and hybrids #dcu crossover #cryptid!au #dpxdc #dcxdp

236 notes · View notes

my-autism-adhd-blog · 9 months

Text

Autism & Can’t Regulate Temperature?

Neurodivergent_lou

#autism #actually autistic #autism & body temperature #temperature regulation #I’m always too cold or too hot #i’m sure some of you can relate #feel free to reblog/share #source: neurodivergent_lou (Facebook)#tw bright colors #tw eye strain

282 notes · View notes

shion-yu · 2 months

Text

A Safe Place (part 1) [Day 28]

Cliff shows up at Elliot's doorstep in the middle of the night soaked to the bone. A Cliff/Elliot sickfic heavy on the angst, also ft. Theo. For @monthofsick Day 28: Chaotic body temperature. I know, not me joining in on a writing challenge right at the end but it fit so well. 3,065 words, original work, TWs for homophobia, emeto (neither strong warnings, but the sick will get much sicker in p2).

It had been a long summer. Cliff had spent it working at Theo's law firm again, except this time he wasn't an unpaid intern but a legal secretary. It was a temporary job that they had offered him when his summer break had aligned perfectly with one of the secretary's maternity leaves and Cliff had jumped at the chance to work in such a great environment again. He was happy to see many familiar faces from last year, and to his surprise they were happy to see him too. Although he was mainly working with one of the other partners this time - not Theo - he saw the lawyer nearly every day and was relieved to learn both Theo and his partner, Al, were in good health. Al had gotten a double lung transplant that last Fall, Theo told Cliff. He and his new lungs were doing great.

"What about you?" Theo asked Cliff eagerly. "How did your first year at NYU go?"

Cliff smiled, automatically thinking of Elliot. "It was great," he said. "My classes were interesting but not too hard."

"You look happier," Theo said, surprising Cliff with how true the observation was. "Did something cause that?"

"Yeah," Cliff said thoughtfully. "Someone did."

Being apart from Elliot that summer was difficult. He missed hugging and kissing Elliot every single day. He wanted to talk to him on the phone for hours and hours just to hear his voice and fall asleep with his fingers in Elliot’s curls. But when he was living at home, Cliff knew he had to be the perfect, straight laced child he'd been raised as. In other words, he couldn't be himself. He wore business attire to work every day, but the soft sweaters and cute hair clips he'd amassed over the past year stayed packed away in his college stuff for next semester. He didn't think his parents would appreciate those particular fashion choices he'd been making.

It's not like his parents made it hard to hide things. They hardly ever asked questions, and if they did it was about grades or tuition. Cliff knew he was incredibly lucky that his parents paid his entire tuition, room and board as if it were a given. Elliot's parents weren't able to help much financially, meaning his boyfriend had to take out loans and work part time while in school. This summer he was working nonstop in his dad's auto mechanic shop, saving up money. Often when Cliff video called Elliot these days he was covered in sweat, streaks of black motor oil on his face. It seemed wrong to complain about his parents when it was thanks to them that he was only working this summer because he wanted to, not because he had to. And yet, silently, Cliff thought maybe he'd be happier if he was in Elliot's shoes - without much money but with a place he could really call home. It was a selfish, privileged thought and Cliff refused to voice it, but it creeped in each time he heard Elliot's mom call in the background, "Boys, wash up, it's time for dinner!"

Working was a blessing to Cliff, because if he'd been at home he would've been in that big, lonely house all by himself most of the summer. Being at the law firm was not only a distraction, but comfortable. Despite wearing a suit, Cliff actually felt less tense there than at his parents' house. He stayed long hours, longer than he needed to, because he preferred the sound of printers and fax machines over his parents screaming at each other downstairs. When he was in high school it seemed easier to ignore. Maybe it was because he'd had a break for so many months that returning to it seemed worse than before. Or maybe it was because Elliot never screamed at him like that, and Cliff had started to realize that this wasn't how things had to be.

Around the beginning of August, Cliff caught a cold that didn't seem to go away. At first it was just the sniffles, and then it was a cough that grew progressively deeper with each week that passed. The other employees started asking him if he was alright, and embarrassingly Theo caught him staring blankly at the water fountain one day for far too long. Cliff was so out of it that he didn't even notice Theo calling his name until the older man waved his hand in Cliff's face.

"Oh," Cliff said, rubbing his eyes to try and make his blurry vision clear up. "Sorry, I was just... Daydreaming."

"You look pale," Theo said, and before Cliff could step back Theo had placed a hand on Cliff's forehead while ignoring Cliff's protest that he was fine. "Hmm, you feel a little feverish. Why don't you go home, kid?"

"I'm really fine," Cliff said, wildly embarrassed. "It's just a cold."

Theo looked him up and down, clearly assessing how pushy he should be. "At least go take a nap on the couch in my office, you look exhausted."

Usually, Cliff would say no immediately. He wouldn't even consider showing weakness at the place he was supposed to be making a vitally good impression at for his career. But he felt weak and a little dizzy and found himself saying in a small voice, "...If you're sure."

Theo was sure. He brought Cliff to his office and shut the blinds so there wasn't much light coming through the many glass windows. He even tossed a blanket to the eighteen-year-old. "I sleep here all the time," he reassured Cliff. "You can't work if you're too tired to think. Don't worry about it."

Cliff felt guilty for taking over Theo's office, but Theo headed out for a two hour meeting and Cliff was left alone on the couch. He had half a mind to leave and get back to work at his desk now that there was no one stopping him, but just sitting there made him realize how fatigued his whole body felt. A little nap wouldn't hurt, he reasoned. A really short one. He lay down and fell asleep so quickly that he didn't even remember closing his eyes.

He woke up to Theo gently rubbing his shoulder. Cliff was confused, then his eyes widened in embarrassment and he sat up. Shit, had it been two hours already? Wait, that clock didn't say 5pm did it? - surely he hadn't slept for four hours?!

"Woah, it's okay Cliff," Theo said quickly, "You seemed really tired so I let you sleep. You should go home now, everybody's leaving for the day."

"I'm so sorry," Cliff gushed, face bright red. "I didn't mean to sleep so long. You don't have to pay me for today - please don't, actually."

"Settle down, it's really fine," Theo said in a calm voice that made Cliff remember to take a deep breath like Elliot had taught him to calm down. "We all have off days. You don't feel so warm now, so that's good. Stay home tomorrow though."

"That's totally not necessary," Cliff said, his confident tone supplemented by a very unconvincing round of dry coughs. He waved off the tissues Elliot tried to hand him. "Really, I'm fine. I've just been having some asthma since I got sick last winter, but my boy-" Cliff stopped himself, realizing he was about to out himself. "My, um, my roommate got me an inhaler so I just have to use it that's all."

"Your boyfriend," Elliot supplied gently. "It's okay to say it, Cliff. You know I have Al."

Cliff wanted to deny the comment outright. He wanted to laugh and say Elliot really was just a friend. But Theo had such an earnest expression, and he was the only successful adult man Cliff knew of who was gay. "I know, but, it's really not, not for me," Cliff found himself saying, voice wavering. "I-I have to go. Sorry I slept in your office so long," he said as he hurried out, ignoring Theo's all too kind voice calling after him. Cliff knew in a certain world that it was okay, but it wasn't his world. Not the world where he still relied on his parents.

Despite saying he'd be back the next day, Cliff did stay home that Friday. His fever was worse and he had chills that left him huddled under the covers. His mom didn't notice he didn't leave the house and he didn't tell her. She didn't need to know, just like she didn't need to know about Elliot. She had never supported Cliff in anything at all, so why... Why did Cliff feel such a strong urge to tell her?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

On the last day of Cliff's work at the law firm, Theo told Cliff if he ever needed a reference, he'd get a glowing one from him. And if he ever needed to talk about anything, anything at all, Cliff could call him too. Cliff knew what he was getting at, and he didn't want to face it. But Theo was such a calm person that it was disarming, and Cliff asked without meaning to, "Is it worth it?"

Theo nodded. He knew what Cliff meant without specification. "Yes, it's worth it," Theo said. "Even if there's nay-sayers and you lose people, you gain much more. It's always worth it to be exactly who you are, Cliff."

Cliff went back to his parents house with those words echoing in his brain. Theo, a successful and respected lawyer, said it was worth it. He had a career and a person who loved him by his side. Was that something Cliff could have, too? Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to be honest, just once?

"Mom," Cliff said over dinner, pushing his phone over to her with a picture of him and Elliot together on the screen. "I want to tell you something. This is my-"

"Don't do this to me Cliff," his mother interrupted before he could finish. "You've already caused enough trouble. He's not - just because you have a thing with another guy doesn't mean anything."

"It's not a thing mom. I love him," Cliff found himself saying angrily. And oh, why did he say that? The first time he finally said he loved Elliot and it was directed at his mom in spite. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

"Cliff, you don't love him. You're too old to be playing this game. Now I'll forget we had this conversation. And don't tell your father."

Cliff saw red. He'd never been so angry in his life. He snatched his phone back and grabbed his wallet on the shelf by the door and went outside. She didn't follow him.

It was pouring rain. Cliff shivered, wishing he'd had the forethought to grab a coat too, but he wasn't going to ruin his dramatic exit by going back inside. Of course his mother hadn't approved. Cliff hadn't expected her to. But he'd expected her to get angry - not to dismiss him all together like he was just a kid with a big imagination. Cliff knew then that she would never really think of him as his own person, and he couldn't do anything to change that. It broke his heart.

Cliff walked for a very long time. He didn't quite know where he was going, only that he wanted to get as far away from that house as possible. He found himself at a park by the water where he beat up a couple of tree trunks that definitely won based on his bleeding knuckles afterwards. The rain didn't let up, and Cliff found himself getting progressively colder. His cough from earlier that month had never gone away and his breath began to catch on what felt like a dry patch in his throat. Cliff realized then that he'd left his inhaler at the house, too. The coughing grew more desperate until he pitched forward and vomited onto the grass he was standing on. He groaned and leaned against the nearest tree he could find, the contents of his stomach mixing with rushing rain water and swept away quickly. He continued to gag for several minutes until the coughing abated ever so slightly. He felt weak and pathetic. And also very, very alone.

He needed to get somewhere dry. Somewhere warm and safe. Cliff only had one place like that in mind. He boarded train after train, shivering in the corner like a wet dog as he made his way all the way to Long Island. He knew Elliot's address because he'd been sending Elliot mail all summer, little love notes and presents that made Cliff think of him. He never included a return address though, because he hadn't wanted his parents to see. Thankfully his phone had enough battery to direct him to Elliot's doorstep despite the wet four hour commute, and he found himself at the front door of a modest suburban home at 3:30 in the morning.

The journey had felt like a daze. Cliff had never done something so erratic, so unplanned. He raised his hand to knock before remembering what time it was, and Elliot had parents and sister who probably wouldn't appreciate him knocking. He called Elliot instead, his phone barely hanging on at 5%. He thought to himself that it seemed unlikely that Elliot would answer at this time of night. But after several rings, by which time Cliff had resigned himself to waiting for dawn under a tree, a very sleepy voice picked up.

"Cliff?"

"Elliot? Sorry to bother you," Cliff said, as if this entire situation weren't incredibly bizarre. "But I'm at your door."

There was a long pause, presumably while Elliot tried to figure out exactly what Cliff meant by 'at your door'. "Like right now? Now?"

"Yeah," Cliff said. "Do you think I could sleep over?"

"I'm coming down," Elliot said, and there was the rustling of sheets and then the thump of footsteps as Elliot ran downstairs. The front door opened and Elliot hung up. Cliff looked at him and thought he was the most beautiful person in the entire world. "Holy crap, you're really here," Elliot breathed. "God Cliff, what happened? No, come in first, you're soaked..."

Elliot pulled Cliff inside and helped Cliff take off his soaked trainers. There were traces of vomit on the front of his shirt and his fingers were still bloody. Elliot brought him to the bathroom, motioning for Cliff to stay quiet with one finger to his lips. He grabbed a towel from under the sink and wrapped it around the shorter boy, who was shivering violently from the marked change in temperature. In the bright light of the kitchen, suddenly his journey seemed a lot less valiant and a lot more stupid. "Sit," Elliot said, sitting Cliff on the toilet. "You're freezing... Can you take your temperature?”

Elliot handed Cliff a thermometer, which Cliff obediently used. After a few seconds it beeped and read ‘96.9.’ Elliot frowned. “Hot shower, okay?" Despite being woken up in the middle of the night, Elliot seemed fully alert. Cliff nodded and peeled off his wet and dirty clothes. He coughed roughly as he did so, a slight wheeze audible on the end of the exhale. Elliot patted his back with a concerned expression. "Do you have your inhaler?" Cliff shook his head no. Elliot grimaced and ran the hot water for Cliff. "You warm up. I'm gonna find you some clothes and I think there's an old inhaler somewhere in the medicine cabinet..."

Elliot moved to leave, but Cliff grabbed his arm before he could go. "Don't wake your family up," Cliff said hoarsely. "I'm okay."

Elliot looked at Cliff in concern and sighed. "Cliff, you just showed up soaking wet in the middle of the night. You live all the way in Newark. I'm gonna be a little concerned. But right now you need to warm up. We can talk later."

"Okay," Cliff said. He took the hottest shower of his life then, and it felt glorious. After a few minutes he started to feel dizzy though and sat on the floor of the tub. Elliot came back and peeked around the curtain, frowning when he saw Cliff sitting there.

"Are you awake?" Elliot asked worriedly.

"Hmm," Cliff hummed in confirmation. "Just feels nice, and I got sleepy."

"Finish up in there," Elliot said. "I've got sweats and a hot water bottle and bed waiting for you."

Cliff obediently finished showering and sat on the edge of the tub as Elliot dried him off thoroughly with two big, fluffy towels. Cliff closed his eyes and remembered how many times he'd imagined being together again over the summer. "I missed you so much," Cliff said, resting his face on Elliot's abdomen.

Elliot stilled and crouched in front of Cliff. "I missed you too," he said softly. "Now arms up." Elliot helped Cliff get into the warmest sweats that he owned and then led Cliff upstairs to his bedroom. The house was quiet, and Cliff hoped that meant he hadn't disturbed anyone else's sleep. He glanced around curiously at Elliot's childhood bedroom, which was decorated in a way that seemed so very Elliot. He smiled at the teddy bear sitting on the dresser that Cliff had bought Elliot at the baseball game they'd been to. It brought back good memories, nothing like the ones that had been swirling around in Cliff's head for the past several rainy hours.

"Bed," Elliot whispered, tucking Cliff under the duvet and several extra blankets. Cliff was still shivering, but less so now. His temperature had blown from low numbers to high and he gazed at Elliot with glassy, feverish eyes. Elliot handed Cliff a very expired albuterol inhaler, which Cliff took a few puffs of. Despite the date stamped on the canister, it still eased the tightness in Cliff's chest a little. Elliot then climbed in next to him and wrapped his arms around Cliff. The feeling and smell of being enveloped by Elliot after all this time brought Cliff to tears and he hid his face.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I know I should have called.”

"It’s okay,” Elliot said. “Sleep, Cliff. We can talk tomorrow.” Knowing he was finally in the only place he truly felt safe, Cliff slept.

[Cont. part 2]

#shionwrites #novemetober rescheduled #whump #sickfic #sicknario #tw: emeto #tw: homophobia #prompt: chaotic body temperature #novemetober 2023 #oc: cliff #oc: theo #oc: elliot #fever whump #hurt/comfort #angst #hypothermia #pneumonia

39 notes · View notes

masquenoire · 12 days

Text

>> Pokemon Personality Quiz

Well, this was off to a good start. Roman looked at his result proudly, finding it very accurate for a man like himself. Nothing suited him better than a Dragon, being a natural leader with strong ambitions to take over Gotham and claim the city as his own. Damn right he had high standards and he wasn't afraid to show it!

"Agreeableness is very low? Fuck you, I'm perfectly agreeable when it suits me!" The rudeness of this quiz.

It was only getting after his result that the grumbling stopped, Roman completely in shock at what he'd gotten. He'd expected dragons; fierce, proud, powerful beasts that matched the vigor and menace he exuded and what he'd gotten was far from what he'd expected.

"And just what the fuck is that? A Goodra? Are you fucking kidding me!?!? That ain't no fucking dragon, that's something out of My Little P.ony or some kid's shit! Don't get mad if it slimes up my good suit? You better believe I'm gonna get PISSED at this gooey-eyed piece of shit touching me! Sure, don't give me the badass with blades in his face or the giant Blue Crocosaurus. Even the frozen turkey would be better than fucking Goodra." Roman seethed. This shit was exactly the reason why he didn't like Pokeymans or whatever the hell the stupid series was called.

Tagged ByStolen from: @peranarkia (♡) Tagging: Whoever would like to do it?

#💀 || dashboard games #💀 || memes #I wasn't going to post this but when I saw what Roman got #I just had to I'm sorry #Don't underestimate Goodra Roman it's a strong Pokemon!#And you could do with a hug however snotty you are about your suits #Thank you all for the lovely asks you guys sent btw settling down to do them now!#Honeycomb has been devoured and bedding is made #Room is bright and beautiful and fresh #In a very good mood despite the drop in temperature #And sad things from years ago #Finally come to terms with my aunt being gone after all these years #It still hurts but it's gotten easier to manage #Can't believe it's been 8 years since she's passed #death mention tw #death mention cw #Just had to post a funny real quick to stay on top

25 notes · View notes

mrs-mikko-rantanen · 5 months

Text

2023 Temperature Blanket: 🌻July, August, September🌻

God the catch-up on this project is unreal. Today is 11/26/2023 and I'm up to 10/22/2023 in my work. I'm going to try to get these three sewn on to the rest of the blanket tonight if I can.

September gets a little bit of an extra shoutout here. The center of it wasn't crocheted by me. My grandma brought it back with her when my Great-grandmother, Granny, passed in March. I've been saving it for this project, and saved it for September. September 18 would have been her 103 birthday. Having this little square in the midst of a year that's held so much feels very comforting. I know she's still here,, in her own way. Granny, I miss you. We all do. Miźpah 💙

#2023 temperature blanket #temperature blanket #crochetblr #granny square #crochet #yarnblr #tw dead mention

27 notes · View notes

notbecauseofvictories · 1 year

Text

lostimist replied to your post “I challenged myself to make cookies for the office...”

ok if it's not a hassle do you have the savory cheddar shortbread recipe to hand? that sounds really good esp if freezable!

Well, first of all, pretty much all dough is freezable! Regular cookie dough, pie dough, puff pastry, pizza dough, bread dough...but “ice box” cookies like shortbread freeze especially well and can last up to three months in the back of your freezer, which makes them especially good for holiday celebrations.

INGREDIENTS

1 cup all-purpose flour

1/2 cup butter, room temperature (if you’re using salted butter, you can omit or adjust the salt below)

1/2 teaspoon salt

Herbs and shredded cheese, to taste---get creative! I used a combination of crushed red pepper, dill, and colby jack, but the possibilities are limitless. Cheddar and rosemary! Mozzarella and basil! Pepper jack and oregano! Parmesan and ranch powder! I recommend sticking to harder cheeses; something like feta or ricotta will throw off the texture. Also, dried herbs work best in my experience, but you can use fresh too!

DIRECTIONS

On medium speed, using a handheld or stand mixer, cream together flour, butter, salt, and herbs until they form a soft dough.

On low speed, mix in cheese and any other add-ins.

Shape into a log, and wrap snugly in plastic wrap. Chill in the fridge for 2+ hours. (If freezing, chill two hours then transfer from fridge to freezer.)

When ready to make, slice log into medallions. If desired, you can brush the slices with a simple egg wash and sprinkle with salt, sesame or poppy seeds, according to taste.

Bake at 350F for 12-13 minutes (...ish. it will depend on the size of the log and how thinly you slice it.) Edges should be golden brown, and the middle slightly soft-looking. Let cool for 5 minutes on the cookie sheet before moving to a cooling rack.

NOTE: if working from frozen dough, thaw in the fridge overnight before slicing and baking.

#people who say that ''cooking is flexible/baking is exact'' have never baked with me #you have much much more room for experimentation and navigation than you think #it's mostly about temperature and the proper proportions between dry and wet ingredients; you can go from there #tw food #no love sincerer than the love of food

161 notes · View notes

sarishim · 2 months

Text

really wish people would stop throwing around the word n.azi to just describe anything/anyone they dont like.

#— always some kind of fucking temperature; ooc / misc.#i have studied n.azi germany. like. extensively.#i could fucking read the propaganda posters when we went to the holocaust museum and it was fucking with me so badly #i know people who’s family were in germany at the time - both nazi & jewish. ughhhhhh #it devalues the word & the history / acts associated and done.#during ww2. the events leading up to it. all the things done by splinter groups like the uštase #us americans reducing nazi to just mean ‘bad person’ is frustrating at the least & horrendous #i know that family of mine who never left europe were killed (unfortunately thats been confirmed.) like..#nazi mention tw

15 notes · View notes

mapsontheweb · 2 years

Photo

Days per year where the temperature is too damn high.

by @Climatologist49

#maps #tw #temperature #north america

636 notes · View notes

kits-ships · 7 months

Text

did you know that you can make silly, half-hearted threats or dni messages without having to use phrases that can trigger/demean psychotic folks? that's right! you can stop being an asshole for the low, low price of free by just using your brain and having sympathy !!!!!!!!!

#'i'm in your walls'' shut the fuck up or i'm going to pour room temperature milk on your pillow #ramblerambleramble #tw vent #i think #i had the pissed off weed tonight #high posting

19 notes · View notes

yetsosoftly · 29 days

Text

Wouldn't it be nice to be my canvas? Let me cover you in paint, tease your body with different brushes. Goosebumps from the cold paint and tingliness of the bristles. Rubbing your skin with towels or sprinkling water on top because I'm fussing over uneven lines or shades not being quite right. Maybe I'll intentionally move my brush over your sensitive parts more often than others, leaving them stimulated and aching.

Finally, when the swirls and colors please me enough, you'd be displayed as art should be. Perhaps I'd be the only one to enjoy the efforts, perhaps I'd invite many others. Just sink into your purpose and be the reason of my pride. But don't let the excitement take over, we can't let the wet puddle between your legs smudge the paint.

#bd/sm blog #bd/sm domme #bd/sm community #domme/sub #fem domme #temperature play #dehumanisation tw #exhibitionism kink #cw exhibitionism

7 notes · View notes

my-autism-adhd-blog · 10 months

Text

Be careful everyone. I hate the heat…

The Autistic Teacher

Autism

#autism #actually autistic #autism and temperature #I’m either too hot or too cold #this summer heat sucks #feel free to reblog/share #tw bright colors #tw eye strain

112 notes · View notes

sophiethewitch1 · 2 months

Text

Nothing like there being something visibly wrong with you <3

#sophie speaks #talking specifically about how when im in public i shake like a dog because of the pain of sensory overload #which i am always in babes unless it is a pitch black perfectly quiet comfortable temperature space #wish my fibro was the jus muscle pains one not muscle pains and literally all sensory input being incredibly painful #i still cant believe that i am in th amount of pain im in #but my medicine isnt a painkiller its a neuropathy fixer and apparently the dish washer doesnt hurt the average person #wild #unsurprisingly i am complaining again #tw vent #this is why i didnt post much on Tumblr before because i am aware my mouth is either on or off #there is no in between

9 notes · View notes

ainawgsd · 2 months

Text

Not me, dangling my pasty white feet into the sunlight after completing CE on the importance of Daily PhOtOpRoTeCtIOn (in sunscreen)!

#look i know i should wear sunscreen #i know i should do a lot of things #but im tired and the sunshine feels so good with todays mild temperatures #and ny the time i lathered up id have lost the momentum and just languished on the couch inside #instead of going outside #tw feet i guess

8 notes · View notes

asydicsydney · 9 months

Text

Guess who started to write a fic during the great AO3 shutdown and finished a month later!!

Ever since I saw that post about Kevin being bird-coded, I've imagined him with wings tattooed on his back. Here is Carlos (and frankly, Kevin) discovering them while stuck in a Desert Otherworld

TW for average Kevin stuff (mentions of blood and injury), 1.2K Words

"Could I study you, Kevin?"

Kevin's third person camera flickers as he spins his chair to face Carlos in the shared office space. "Wha-ha-at?" His nerves bubbling up in laughter in the middle of the question.

Carlos continued, "I've done a study on Cecil before. You know, marking his Night Valean qualities. I wondered last nigh- yesterd- earlier... If you had any similar qualities, since you're doubles and all." He eyed Kevin up and down, searching for a resemblance that didn't quite come up.

"Ohhhh-kay!" His tone lilted up to hide his initial perception of the question. "But I can assure you, Carlos," his voice was tinged with blood oranges, "I am genetically identical to... Him. We are doubles."

"I'm not certain on that," Carlos corrected him, walking to his side of the office and lifting his arm up. Kevin flinches. He does not know if it is from trauma or affection or an odd twilight between the two. "You don't have tattoos like he does. You've seen his, yes?" An 'mhm' is squeaked out through pursed lips as he stares at Carlos' hand turning his arm over. He does not notice his nails digging into his palms. "He has these tattoos of tentacles all over. They move not quite on top of the skin like an animated film. And I know they're not really tattoos because they turn into real tentacles. It's... Fascinating. But you don't have any..." Carlos sounds oddly upset at his final note, dropping Kevin's arm back on the armrest.

Now that he's been freed of the clinical gaze and grasp, Kevin lets out a shaky breath. The desert otherworld may be stuck at 76 degrees Fahrenheit, but his arm and face are reaching the mid 80's, at least. Only now does he process what Carlos said. "I do have a tattoo, actually."

Carlos drops the notes he was returning to and turns on his heel. "You do? What is it? Where is it? Does it materialize like Cecil's? Can I see it?"

The mention of the rival radio host from Carlos' mouth gives him pause, like it has been for the past few months since they built their shared living space, but he regains his composure because, oh my smiling god, he's finally interested in something about him! He does not read into this reaction. "Of course!" He takes the hem of his standard-issue StrexCorp yellow sweater vest, with it's interlocking triangle design across the chest, and starts to pull it over his head.

"Woah, wait, I-I-I didn't mean for you to str-"

"It's on my back, Carlos."

"Oh."

The sweater vest lays piled on his office chair like the grand mountains of the otherworld. He feels this ethereal weight lift off of him. Must be the heat. Really, who wears a sweater vest in 70 degree weather? He positions his third eye just so to aid the process in unbuttoning his work shirt. No one really gets how hard it is to push little buttons though little holes when your depth perception is every which way. He usually doesn't even entertain the thought. Back in Desert Bluffs he could be summoned to a meeting at any moment. There wasn't time to change into his hot pink satin loungewear.

"Do you...need...help? With that?" Carlos snaps him out of his walk-in closet mind at the same time he snaps a button off of its thread.

"I'm fine," he smiles a panicked smile, a smile he's perfected though it is not perfect, "Why would I need help?"

"I can see you biting through your cheek."

A bloody stream of spit drips onto his lapel. He stops chewing and lessens his smile. The last button comes undone and he moves the third eye to look back at him because he can't believe it. He's wearing a Desert Bluffs town fair volunteer shirt. Originally yellow but stained orange by the blood dunk tank he was running. DBCR was a shining sponsor of the old summer event. He smells traces of cotton candy (and blood) and sighs while his face is hidden from view. He tosses the undershirt on to the chair with the other pieces of his work outfit and turns around. "It's neat, right? I can't exactly remember when I got it, but it moves just like...His."

Carlos's brain starts backlogging information. Kevin's gaunt figure, scent, the many scars and still open wounds, his usage of the word 'neat', and the faint gold depiction of wings that, true to his word, are moving. They seem stiff, individual feathers stretching back to full plumage. And although they are not quite as sentient as Cecil's tentacles, they seem to shiver with fear. Carlos traces the sunset arc across Kevin's shoulder blades, feeling the slightest singe on his finger. Unlike with Cecil's markings, he could not keep his hands on the heated skin, not without lab gloves or giving off wrongful impressions of intimacy. "Can you materialize them?"

"I... don't know?" The wings ache each time he tries to move them. Their unfurling requires the energy of a younger Kevin, one who has not been physically shackled to a desk and forced to read out stock reports.

Carlos scratches his five o'clock shadow (he had just started growing it out before getting stuck in a dimension where nothing changes) and 'hmms' thoughtfully. Kevin's third eye spectates Carlos' scrutinizing, he sees his own body tinge red with increased blood flow, and he sees Carlos stab himself in the hand with a scalpel.

"CARLOS! Are you okay?" He moves his vision to get a better look at the wound. Oh, how the blood oozes and gathers to start building a scab and how expertly trained on the location of certain vital internal parts Carlos must be in order to still be standing right now. He bites his lip and draws blood there too. He tastes it and wonders what Carlos' would taste like.

"Kevin. Your wings- they're- astounding." The third eye whips back around to see its body's wings in all their gold tinged glory for the first time in years. Unlike their inked form, the manifested wings are a stark white that ignore whatever lighting conditions surround them, although the tips of each feather still shine a golden glow.

"They...they are. But, how did you get them out? I was, um, distracted."

"Oh, right! Well, Cecil's tentacles can involuntarily manifest when he's excited, and I know you like blood, so I stabbed myself. I can't actually do any damage, the Otherworld will just heal it. Look-" Carlos raises his hand to where he thinks Kevin's looking, showing the complete lack of a scar or scab on his palm, "I'm not hurt. And-" he squints as he walks closer to his lab partner's wings, "These are just stunning. The way they emit pure light is mind-boggling and makes them really hard to look straight at. Can you fly with them?"

Kevin freezes while his body feels a rush of heat never before known. He sees the endless sky outside the Otherworld lab, with zero smog clouds and just one ever present lighthouse. He sees himself next to the red light, wishing it a good morning, and diving off the railing. He sees his town, his new town, from a perspective unlike those of his spectral eye. The masked army looks like regularly sized people and Carlos looks like a very scientific ant. He lands next to his radio station and he folds his wings back together before he lets them dissolve back into the golden tattoo under his magenta DBTCR tank top, the same color he used to see the world through. He opens the door and the vision dissolves too.

"I can try."

#yes this is a weird exploration into Kevin's independence after Strex #I'm not great with deeper meaning writing #explanations of my Kevin:#he only has his third eye which is a third person view so he can move it around #Cecil's tattoos are purple but become void black with purple tips. they're also chilled to the touch #Kevin's regular eyes (the ones Strex scooped) were magenta like Cecil's (a mixture between pink and purple)#the Carlos stabbing himself scene is possibly the funniest thing I've written #i do NOT remember how the ohhhh-kay is supposed to sound. don't ask #i wanted to reference my weather fic where i said DBT is 76 degrees. i am an idiot because body temperature is higher than air temperature #tw injury #tw blood #wtnv #welcome to night vale #wtnv fanfic #wtdb #carlos the scientist #kevin wtdb #kevin wtnv #kevlos but onesided but also Kevin doesn't know he's in love #desert otherworld

20 notes · View notes