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corpsefaking-moved

what if 😳 what if my b 😳 what if my back didnt hurt 😳

soiliketacos

*reblogs X100000*

thebraveandthebroiled

“A rose is a rose is a rose, but not to the perfumer. Russian rose is softer, Indian thinner, Egyptian richer, Turkish sweeter, Bulgarian rounder, Moroccan brighter. Jasmine sambac is sharp, while grandiflorum jasmine is more full-bodied. Deepgreen Tasmanian boronia has a rich herbal scent, whereas the bright orange kind has a sweet-tart citrusy odor. Spanish, Tunisian, and French orange flower absolute all vary in sweetness and depth.”

—

Mandy Aftel, Essence and Alchemy: A Natural History of Perfume

(via bluebeardsbride)

uncensoredsideblog

Steve Rogers leaves dishes in the sink.

triflesandparsnips

In 1938, Bucky Barnes comes home from a long day at the docks and looks down at a full sink. He directs a halfhearted glare in the direction of the small lump doodling something at the kitchen table. “Goddamnit, Steve. Dishes.”

In 2016, Steve Rogers rubs his face and drags himself into the kitchen before heading out to search the city — the cooling trail — again. He drops his plate into the sink. There’s already some other things in there. He’ll get to them later, probably. When he has time. It doesn’t really matter.

He turns to go.

The shadow behind the refrigerator shifts slightly, and the Winter Soldier hoarsely whispers, “I swear to God, Steve, there’s a fucking machine for it right there.”

animatedamerican

*SHRIEKING*

poisparrots

aaa

aaaaaAAAAa

AAAaaAAAAAAAAA!!!

soiliketacos

mood.

bbblackcats

coffee-alien

“Imagine having a child that refuses to hug you or even look you in the eyes”

Imagine being shamed, as a child, for not showing affection in a way that is unnatural or even painful for you. Imagine being forced, as a child, to show affection in a way that is unnatural or even painful for you. Imagine being told, as a child, that your ways of expressing affection weren’t good enough. Imagine being taught, as a child, to associate physical affection with pain and coercion.

samayla

As a preschool special ed para, this is very important to me. All my kids have their own ways of showing affection that are just as meaningful to them as a hug or eye contact is to you or me.

One gently squeezes my hand between both of his palms as he says “squish.” I reciprocate. When he looks like he’s feeling sad or lost, I ask if I can squish him, and he will show me where I can squish him. Sometimes it’s almost like a hug, but most of the time, it’s just a hand or an arm I press between my palms. Then he squishes my hand in return, says “squish,” and moves on. He will come ask for squishes now, when he recognizes that he needs them.

Another boy smiles and sticks his chin out at me, and if he’s really excited, he’ll lean his whole body toward me. The first time he finally won a game at circle time, he got so excited he even ran over and bumped chins with me. He now does it when he sees me outside of school too. I stick out my chin to acknowledge him, and he grins and runs over and I lean down for a chin bump.

Yet another child swings my hand really fast. At a time when another child would be seeking a hug, she stands beside me and holds my hand, and swings it back and forth, with a smile if I’m lucky. The look on her face when I initiate the hand swinging is priceless.

Another one bumps his hip against mine when he walks by in the hallway or on the playground, or when he gets up after I’m done working with him. No eye contact, no words, but he goes out of his way to “crash” into me, and I tell him that it’s good to see him. He now loves to crash into me when I’m least expecting it. He doesn’t want anything, really. Just a bump to say “Hi, I appreciate you’re here.” And when he’s upset and we have to take a break, I’ll bump him, ask if he needs to take a walk, and we just go wander for a bit and discuss whatever’s wrong, and he’s practically glued to my side. Then one more bump before we go back into the room to face the problem.

Moral of the story is, alternative affection is just as valid and vitally important as traditional affection. Reciprocating alternative affection is just as valid and vitally important as returning a hug. That is how you build connections with these children.

brighteyedbadwolf

This is so goddamn important.

I verbally express affection. A LOT.

My husband… doesn’t. I don’t know why. For the longest time part of me wondered if it meant he loved me less.

At some point I told him about a thing I had done as a kid. Holding hands, three squeezes means ‘I Love You’.

Suddenly he’s telling me I Love You all the time.

Holding my hand, obviously, but also randomly.

taptaptap

on my hand, my shoulder, my butt, my knee, whatever body part is closest to him, with whatever part of him is closest to me

All the time.

More often than I ever verbally said it.

It’s an ingrained signal now, I can tap three times on whatever part of him, and get three taps back in his sleep. Apparently I do the same.

It’s made a huge difference for us.

People say things differently.

soiliketacos

This entire post is everything...

halloweenskellington

reblog to have this spoopy dancing ghost on ur blog

soiliketacos

my life is now complete.

Did I just make an impulse decision? Yes.

I may, or may not have, decided to dye my originally light blond hair a REALLY dark shade of indigo... Not sure how this is going to turn out. Anyone else got impulse hair stories? Share them with me if so! <3

creatingjulia-deactivated202101

qvotable

Wait for someone who bumps mouths clumsily with yours cos they’re too busy smiling to kiss you properly. Yeah. Wait for that.

Azra Tabassum (via qvotable)

i find Canadian stereotypes really funny and incorrect.... bu then i remember the time I held to door open for 7 people i didn’t know, a few of which were like, 10 miles away, while freezing my hand, and holding my Tims. I then proceeded to run to catch up to my family, almost died slipping ice, and yelled “OH SORRY” to the people i fell in front of.... Canada eh?

skypevevo

Visit Original Link

mujna

This was recorded by the Portsmouth Sinfonia in an experiment where all the members of the orchestra would swap instruments with each other and attempt to play them to the best of their ability.

portmantaur-deactivated20240523

favorite things about this

literally all the brass starts to get the hang of it and then the crescendos happen and everyone is like FUCK FUCK FUCK??? FUCK. JUST. BLOW RLY HARD.

the strings are lazy but also the same. like u can tell a lot of the ppl w/ the stringed instruments may already basically know how to play stringed instruments. like there’s definitely a section at the beginning where you hear a good portion going “oh yeah this is like. a smaller/bigger version of what i do.”

all you hear of any woodwinds is just “pffffttt??? pFFFTTTT???? PFFFFFTTTT I SAID PFFFFTTTT!!!!!” bc woodwinds are fucking HARD and you hear after like the first crescendo half of them just give up. they give up. they’re done. fuck this it tastes weird and my lips hurt.

that trumpet. that person is fucking TRYING man they fucking GOT this. they may not have figured out notes but they figured out LOUD and they GOT this.