Be curious, not judgmental

AN HOUR???????

I love how everyone is still asking hey so my symptoms are actually symptoms? Even if I feel only x amount of pain after x amount of time? BUDDY THE NORM IS FEELING MILD DISCOMFORT AT MOST AFTER STANDING FOR AN HOUR AND THEY RECOVER WITHIN A FEW HOURS TO A DAY

It’s always funny when people make the argument that children shouldn’t have access to some media because “it will give them nightmares” like I hate to tell you this but children can have nightmares all by themselves. I had recurring childhood nightmares about the washing machine

“As I pondered a pronoun change, I began to think of gender less as a scale and more as a landscape. Some people are born in the mountains, while others are born by the sea. Some people are happy to live in the place they were born, while others must make a journey to reach the climate in which they can flourish and grow. Between the ocean and the mountains is a wild forest. That is where I want to make my home.” ― Maia Kobabe, Gender Queer: A Memoir (Affiliate link)

healing magic that's inherently sexual but the healer is the dom. healing magic that requires you to completely relinquish control over to your party's healer, letting them guide you through it. it's a painful kind of magic - snapping bones back together, fusing torn skin, regrowing limbs. if you twitch, if you resist, if you do the wrong movement, it might jeopardize your recovery, might hurt you further - so your healer ties you up. they play with your hair, murmuring soft words of encouragement, their other hand trailing down to your wound. you have to trust them so completely that you'll let them dip their fingers into your torn open body. they reward you as they go - giving you pleasure to offset the pain, telling you how well you're doing, how sweet you look, your brow slick with sweat and your mouth hanging open, dumb in their skilled hands. it hurts, oh how it hurts, but you've learned to love it, to love their attention, their control over you, their soothing voice and the now familiar burning of flesh stitching itself back together.

Life goals

Call me a chicken the way I'm tender

So I got this collection of Serbian folk tales and one of the stories in it is about a boy who wants to marry a princess, but she will only agree to marry him if he will learn "the trade that no one knows." So he goes off into the world to try and learn the trade that no one knows, and he comes a group of giants and steals the secret of how to shapeshift from them. And you may be thinking "I don't think that shape-shifting counts as a trade." In which case I am delighted to tell you that the trade that no one knows is fraud.

Someday your hands will be old and wrinkled, the skin spotted and bunching over your knuckles. And a child will watch you make something. It's a simple task, you'll have done it a thousand times before. But to that child, the smooth, confident way your hands move will seem like impossible magic. You have to keep living.

Abruptly reminded of that one post either @gallusrostromegalus or @systlin made about recreating their matriarchal ancestor's recipes and trying to compare the size of their hands to the size of their grandma's hands to figure out how much "a handful of salt/flour/etc" actually meant

I set my alarm for this morning early enough that I could have gotten breakfast before class but instead I woke up to an alert that we had ANOTHER gas leak on campus and I was like you know what. [goes back to sleep]

you guys are never gonna guess who has a snow day

it probably feels good as fuck to be a soup getting simmered