#and age and body issues

[gauntletgirlie]

[uncanny-tranny]

So often, twink death is framed as a bad thing. However, the "twink death" for trans men* is frankly one of the most healing things you will bear witness to (pun intended).

[normalbrothers]

TOMMY: The war is done! Shut the door on it like I did.

[siennabestylin]

Half the time, I feel so undesirable, it makes me sick and I self isolate. But other times, I desperately want to be seen as cute and pretty and actually be in a real relationship.

.

[firstfullmoon]

If you could choose to stop your body from aging, would you, and if so, what age would you choose to stop at? This process is irreversible purely physical. You're also not immortal.

NO ABOLISH THE CULT OF YOUTH !!!!! IT IS HOLY TO GET WRINKLES AND GRAY HAIR AND LAUGH LINES AND STRETCH MARKS !!!!! IT IS A SIGN OF HAVING LIVED AND HAVING LIVED WELL !!!!!!

[worstloki]

i just think it'd be funny for Loki's magic to drained/blocked and 75% of the motor function in his arms/hands goes out with it. maybe he collapses because the magic is keeping him up and running. who knows.

[dolores-slay]

Ngl I'm finding it so difficult to keep liking or trying to understand solas knowing what he did to the titans and dwarves and how they don't even factor into his veil plans. Him and mythal just dgaf!

[gonnadosomethingwmylife]

I always find it funny when people are more mad at a character than the people they supposedly hurt are? I get it happens when a fandom is younger or it’s been truely written incorrectly based on the characters, but a lot of the times it’s not and it’s funny to see idk. I am looking at the teen wolf fandom.

[thedragonagelesbian]

shimmer

It starts small, Cyrus Hawke suddenly twenty years younger and unable to ask for what he needs: to be touched, to be held, but they find their little ways around it. To begin to take care of each other. A scout's foraged healing herbs against his flank. The brush of their knees bent over planters together. Braiding each other's hair in the morning, the jolt of warmth up through the tips of his fingers as he draws the tresses together, the faintest flash of blue in the veins disappearing when he blinks before he can wonder if he really saw it.

And then after the nightmare, bumping shoulders and inching hands and a hunger deep in his marrow for the softness of the crook of her neck to rest his weary head... answered instead by dizzy syrup poured down through his mind, and it isn't until he staggers out of her room that he realizes that the cavern of his grief has been ever so briefly filled, cradled by honey-spooled lyrium.

And it isn't until he reaches his room that he collapses. Catches himself on a table but still shivers. Holding his head afraid. Magic has crept through his body before. Transmuted him, ruined him, seven years trapped in the Fade and a decade before that of his blood mingling with the water of Kirkwall's womb, devouring him. He's only been whole again for two years, what if her magic breaks him again?

The thought leaves him shaking. Days. Weeks. Zipping across Thedas not-not avoiding her.

But missing her too. Missing the proximity of someone else's body, that ever-infallible anchor upon which he had relied to ground himself in this world.

So when Lace Harding invites him to the Hall of Valor, Cyrus accepts.

She's a huntress through and through. Eyes sharp and arrows sharper, the fluidity of her body moving between coiled waiting and sprung devastation in an instant. Alongside rogues, he always feels clumsy by comparison, a big sword and an even bigger shield slogging through the battlefield, tangled in the thick of it while she watches over him.

And she does. Watch. Protective. Deadset against losing anyone else, a mirror between them running deeper than the auburn hair--his more silver now than anything else, hers still the full fire of autumn--and the freckles.

She asks him to spar with her, to shore up her defenses. He replies Am I not a good enough defender for you? She laughs and tells him he's just afraid of losing.

So they skirmish, vanguard against prowler. Some times, he knocks her over. Most times, she rolls out of the way. The last time, she answers him with a swift kick to the chest that sends him tumbling to the ground, and when the world stops spinning, he sees her gleaming above him with an arrow knocked at his throat.

Gotcha!

Her foot is still on his chest, and it would be so easy to pull the rest of her--near, radiant--down with him, hands seeking plausible deniability.

But then her eyes go wide, and she draws away. Trembling, torn, her magic pulling her out of herself like threads of a tapestry come undone in a dozen different directions.

He thinks of Kirkwall. Of how the city screamed and splintered around him. Of how he felt it like flaying.

He's quick to pull himself up to his knees, quicker to crawl and grab Lace by the shoulders. Should(n't) hold her closer, tighter, draw her body back in on itself even as his own sloughs away. Instead, he offers her the only comfort that's ever sheltered him. The only words that ever kept him sane. You are not alone. I'm here, and you're safe.

She answers by burrowing into him in too many senses, her ragged chest crushed against his own and the lick-lyrium-whispers wriggling in at the temples. He grinds his teeth and hugs her hard and focuses on the way his spine bends to encompass her. The shapes their bodies make together.

Should this not be comforting too?

When she pulls her head from his shoulder, her eyes are wet, and she touches his jaw, fingers hesitant to map the constellation to his lips. Too soon? Too mournful? The space between them too heavy with the ghost of a partner left behind? "I... I shouldn't ask..."

"Please kiss me."

If her mouth will not anchor him, maybe it will consume him. Maybe that will be it's own kind of comfort.

And then it's all treacle and electric daisies and affection. All the passion dormant in his stomach suddenly bubbling up and boiling over, spilling out between the ribs he will later count to make sure that they're all there-- that he's all there, still him, still his, not something to be remade by magic.

But for now all Cyrus can do is grin deliriously, heart brimming with lyrium.

I feel drunk...

Yeah, it's because I turned your head into mush!

Or it's love.

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Babel-17

sci-fi set in a future in an intergalactic war facing unknown beings only known as ‘invaders’

when a new code from the enemy is discovered, a poet/linguist/cryptographer is asked to try crack it - but quickly realises it’s a language

she assembles a crew to travel to the war yards to study the language, and discovers that learning it changes the way people think and interact with others

explores linguistic relativity

queer and polyamorous characters

[gutfaced]

just a reminder to the people that there's no way haymitch wasn't majorly affected by the injury he sustained in the arena at the hand of the d1 girlies’ axe. i did mention before that it hinders with his eating habits as obviously. abdominal and digestive trauma but i'd like to assume that he did have a stoma bag when recovering from said injury. shrug shrug. intestines = major major digestive organ. the capitol probably didn't have the same high tech as they did come the 74th, and so the healing was possibly way more grueling/longer. all this to say yes i believe he has a large scar from the initial injury. yes i also believe that he's got a stoma scar in the hypothetical idea of him needing one in the first place.

↑ girl who is not a medical professional nor has had a stoma bag before. i'm just considering the fact that he definitely had to deal with a lot of rebounds and this could be one of the resulting factors! i'm literally a teen who likes to look up medical conditions/treatments as part of my special interest. this might not be totally spot on but i wanted to apply my small parts of knowledge.

[detentiontrack]

Thinking about how there’s no way the calamity trio left amphibia without some form of disordered eating/full blown eating disorders

[theygender]

The more I think about it the more I really feel like the recently coined term mesosex might fit me and it's been shared by several intersex education/advocacy blogs I follow now so I know there's support for the term but I'm still like. Scared I would be Intruding™ on intersex issues if I started using it. Like I mean. I'm an afab & (afaik) perisex person with a reproductive disorder that's likely caused by a (non-intersex) hormone imbalance which I'm now essentially having to take feminizing HRT to fix, and as a result I'm now growing tits and undergoing female-pattern fat redistribution at the age of 25 after years of having little to no secondary sex characteristics. I've always identified with intersex issues but now that I'm essentially having to undergo HRT to make my body match my asab that connection to intersex issues feels even stronger. And like that's what the term is for. But my anxiety is still like "but what if you're intruding tho" lol 🙃

[windupaidoneus]

really funny to me that ppl perceive emets solus body at like 60s. he looks blatantly younger than varis or like, the same age. varis is 46

[ardentkurashk]

every time someone mods their gith to look like a final fantasy character, vlaakith gains a new level

[coridallasmultipass]

Just wanna remind everyone that it's NEVER okay to tell someone to die.

You don't know how hard they're fighting to stay alive every day. Or if they don't even want to fight for that any more.