I Think It Would Be Wise To Seriously Reconsider Any Statement You Make About God In Which The Word “God”

yummies

IG: @peachyy.mama

nonhuman asks

what term(s) do you prefer to be referred to as (otherkin, therian, nonhuman, etc.)?

what are you(r kintypes/theriotypes)?

most niche/obscure 'type?

what foods do you associate with your 'type(s)?

what colors do you associate with your 'type(s)?

do you own any gear? if so, what is it?

best/favorite thing about being nonhuman?

worst/least favorite thing about being nonhuman?

what activities help you connect with your 'type(s)?

do you associate any music with your 'type(s)? do you have a playlist?

do you collect anything besides wearable gear that you associate with your 'type(s), such as plushies or merch?

do your 'type(s) influence your sense of style or the way you dress?

would you consider yourself a furry? if so, do you have a fursona? is your fursona based on one of your 'type(s)?

draw or share your artwork of your 'type(s)?

this isnt a question but a request that you drink some water!

authors note: feel free to reblog! other beings can ask you questions from this list, or you can simply answer them all yourself.

Polar bear (🐻‍❄️) inspired* foods/snacks

All kids of fish (🐟) especially saltwater species

Berries especially blueberries (🫐), blackberries, and cranberries

Wild and brown rice

Venison

Seaweed (seaweed chips are a thing, so a seaweed sheets)

Sushi/Sashimi (🍣)

Slushies/Icees (I don't know what y'all call them)

Ice cream

Poultry - duck, turkey, and chicken

Eggs (🥚) in general

Dried meats/jerky

Tea (especially chamomile and dandelion)

Ice water/cold water

Carrots (🥕)

Soup with any of the aforementioned ingredients - (wild rice soup is delicious btw)

*Please note that while this is inspired by a polar bear's diet it is just that. It is not 100% accurate nor was it intended to be

(nothing between me and god except a thin panel of aquarium glass) ahem *bonk* hey *bonk* excuse me *loud thunk* i have questions about the nature of things

After you gave your master the standard 3 wishes, you told him to leave the lamp in a place like a women’s shelter or a homeless camp. Instead he sold your lamp to the highest bidder and now you are determined to twist the 3 wishes to the detriment of both your current and former master.

(detail from the San Barnaba Altarpiece (c. 1488) by Sandro Botticelli)

so i’ve got this really small bathroom spider. i’m talkin super teeny tiny, like micron sized, this dude is naught but a speck of dust. he’s behind the faucet of the sink in there, his webs structured to rely on the faucet and the wall behind it. every time i wash my hands i have to turn the handle some of his foundation rests upon and it makes his web jiggle a bunch and he kinda like scrambles around to stay on it and it’s pretty cute and funny to watch. but then i finish washing my hands and turn the faucet off and it’s fine, he’s back to normal and everything is chill, maybe just a couple strands to fix after he catches his breath. and at first i was gonna post about this and be like “lol poor motherfucker what an incomparably crazy situation that is for him” but then i realized that humans experience earthquakes all the time and i went. ah. hm. We Are All Bathroom Spiders In the House of God, i suppose

“Are you the witch who turned eleven princes into swans?”

The old woman stared at the figure on the front step of her cottage and considered her options. It was the kind of question usually backed up by a mob with meaningful torches, and it was the kind of question she tried to avoid.

Coming from a single dusty, tired housewife, it should’ve held no terrors.

“You a cop?”

The housewife twisted the hem of her apron. “No,” she muttered. “I’m a swan.”

A raven croaked somewhere in the woods. Wind whispered in the autumn leaves.

Then: “I think I can guess,” the old woman said slowly. “Husband stole your swan skin and forced you to marry him?”

A nod.

“And you can’t turn back into a swan until you find your skin again.”

A nod.

“But I reckon he’s hidden it, or burned it, or keeps it locked up so you can’t touch it.”

A tiny, miserable nod.

“And then you hear that old Granny Rothbart who lives out in the woods is really a batty old witch whose father taught her how to turn princes into swans,” the old woman sighed. “And you think, ‘Hey, stuff the old skin, I can just turn into a swan again this way.’

“But even if that was true – which I haven’t said if it is or if it isn’t – I’d say that I can only do it to make people miserable. I’m an awful person. I can’t do it out of the goodness of my heart. I have no goodness. I can’t use magic to make you feel better. I only wish I could.”

Another pause. “If I was a witch,” she added.

The housewife chewed the inside of her cheek. Then she drew herself up and, for the first time, looked the old woman in the eyes.

“Can you do it to make my husband miserable?”

The old woman considered her options. Then she pulled the wand out from the umbrella stand by the door. It was long, and silver, and a tiny glass swan with open wings stood perched on the tip.

“I can work with that,” said the witch.

you wouldn't?

you would undo God's punishment?