somehow instead of saying "as a treat", I've started using the phrase "for morale", as if my body is a ship and its crew, and I (the captain) have to keep us in high spirits, lest we suffer a mutiny in the coming days.
and so I will eat this small block of fancy cheese, for morale. I will take a break and drink some tea, for morale. I will pick up that weird bug, for morale.
I'm not sure if it helps, but it does entertain me
I will survive. Out of spite
Dance as an act of rebellion. Dance as an act of joy.
how’s that house that raised you?
crown jewel/stained glass jello cakes are like beautiful angels to me. it's fruity and delicious. it's retro kitsch. it's an edible example of midcentury minimalist art in every cross section.
i understand the 50s housewife appeal here. if i rolled up to the potluck with a fugly cobbler and my neighbor brought one of these i may have to end my stupid sloppy fruit life.
I say shit like "If my memory serves me" knowing damn well it serves the dark lord
oh ok
the problem with being an intersex nonbinary person is that you have experienced both uniquely transmasc and transfem things, but because you are neither you can join neither conversation without being told “you’re afab you can’t have experienced this!” or “you’ve not medically transitioned so this can’t happen to you!”
intersex trans people exist. intersex nonbinary people exist. regardless of what our “agab” is, or whether we’ve taken hormones or not, we have experiences that need to be included in your conversations. by gatekeeping these conversations you’re leaving vital voices out of the narrative.
Syn • They/Them • Adult • ♓ sun, ♐ moon, ♎ rising. Year of the Earth Snake. INFJ. Mostly reblogs and screaming. Check out my side blog here for DC content and x Reader fanfiction.
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