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Not Spoiler Free infrequent posting

@dragonlordwhyamhereagain

They/He, my target audience  is me and a few others that are also adults, there may be topics not child appropriate

He/they, queer, white, US

Decided new I do stuff tag will be "I do [stuff]"

I think I'm actually just gonna make this an art/craft blog I've been deleting majority of fandom stuff.

I'm on the mobile site not desktop, so sorry.

If your blog name is anything resembling name+last name or anything that could be a name+number+possibly a name I'm atleast blocking you incase ur a bot cause some of u I honestly can't tell if lurker or pornbot from ur name and it seems like not all bots have descriptions so if ur blog looks like this & ur a lurker just message me or something so I know u r human

When I think about American attitudes to parenting there's something that always comes to mind, but I don't know whether it's a real thing. All my life in American films and TV I've heard child characters addressing their dads as "sir" or being told off for not doing so.

Is that really a commonplace thing in American families, or is it just a shorthand way of showing that the character is a shitty dad?

There's still time to increase the sample size!

Oh just realized why I don't like weighted blankets

I am near incapable of holding still and if i have the weight of more than comforter + light blanket + slightly fuzzy blanket ontop of me it feels constricting so it causes anxiety and stress. Some weighted blankets are better than others but I can't lay them over my lap or body without being atleast slightly uncomfortable, however I can wrap it on my shoulders like a blanket cape and be fine cause it just feels like a hug.

Reposting this post as a screenshot solely because I can't add polls to a reblog:

Reblog for a larger sample size because I am absolutely positive this will give us a true and honest representative result and mischievous responder bias will not color the results in any way! 💖

A mark on your forehead identifies the god you must worship to stay alive, usually by joining its local church or temple. Your mark is unknown, meaning an old, forgotten god sponsored you. To survive, you must either find an old temple to worship at, or do the arduous task of building a new one

Nobody in your small coastal village has ever seen the Godmark that you were born with. It’s a dark russet sequence of criss-crossing lines, with a vertical arrowhead on the left and a circle on the right, just over where your brow meets your temple. Some of the traders who come down from the mountain say it looks like one of the scripts used in the hinterlands, but not a language that any of them recognize.

“If she’s got the temperament for it, she should try her luck inland,” they advise. “No point her starting a temple here if she’d find her people elsewhere, with a little searching.”

At first, your parents are reluctant to send you away. Though you’re well-behaved and diligent in your chores, you’re a sickly child with no God to worship. And besides, you’ve always been the dreamy type–inclined to lose track of time watching the path of rain droplets chasing down the window, or the fronds of an anemone as it sways in a rock pool.

Instead, they send you to the temple of the Storm to learn all you’ll need for your own God. You are happy there, for a time: making up beds and serving food to the castaways who pass through, keeping vigil at the lighthouse, burning incense and praying with the loyal widows and orphans of the drowned.

One such widow, an old, old lady, touches the mark on your forehead. “I recognise those letters. We wrote this way in the town where I grew up, way off past the mountains.”

Your heartbeat quickens. “What does it say!?”

She squints, eyes engulfed by wrinkles and hidden behind smudged glass. “A… Ar… Oh, I can’t remember how to speak it. I left before I learnt my letters properly. There was a war, you know. But I remember,” she says, mistily, “the most beautiful pink and white flowers used to grow, on the borders of the wheat fields…”

You try to ask more questions, but remembering the war distresses her, and so you speak of other things. When she’s drifted off to sleep, you get to your feet, go home and tell your parents: you are leaving in search of your God.

I bought some wool (and some yarn that is pretty much just roving wool) and an actual niddy noddy so I can make more spun yarn.

The irony of not being able to keep your Bluetooth headset in its hard case because the two were designed in such a way that the case can power on the headphones and u won't notice for hours

got a new phone today set up was unnecessarily stressful, you need to make an account for this brand/company as part of set up..... syke .... also u cant verify it through the link we sent u, u have to call us.