probably time for this story i guess but when i was a kid there was a summer that my brother was really into making smoothies and milkshakes. part of this was that we didn't have AC and couldn't afford to run fans all day so it was kind of important to get good at making Cool Down Concoctions.
we also had a patch of mint, and he had two impressionable little sisters who had the attitude of "fuck it, might as well."
at one point, for fun, this 16 year old boy with a dream in his eye and scientific fervor in heart just wanted to see how far one could push the idea of "vanilla mint smoothie". how much vanilla extract and how much mint can go into a blender before it truly is inedible.
the answer is 3 cups of vanilla extract, 1/2 cup milk alternative, and about 50 sprigs (not leaves, whole spring) of mint. add ice and the courage of a child. idk, it was summer and we were bored.
the word i would use to describe the feeling of drinking it would maybe be "violent" or perhaps, like. "triangular." my nose felt pristine. inhaling following the first sip was like trying to sculpt a new face. i was ensconced in a mesh of horror. it was something beyond taste. for years after, i assumed those commercials that said "this is how it feels to chew five gum" were referencing the exact experience of this singular viscous smoothie.
what's worse is that we knew our mother would hate that we wasted so much vanilla extract. so we had to make it worth it. we had to actually finish the drink. it wasn't "wasting" it if we actually drank it, right? we huddled around outside in the blistering sun, gagging and passing around a single green potion, shivering with disgust. each sip was transcendent, but in a sort of non-euclidean way. i think this is where i lost my binary gender. it eroded certain parts of me in an acidic gut ecology collapse.
here's the thing about love and trust: the next day my brother made a different shake, and i drank it without complaint. it's been like 15 years. he's now a genuinely skilled cook. sometimes one of the three of us will fuck up in the kitchen or find something horrible or make a terrible smoothie mistake and then we pass it to each other, single potion bottle, and we say try it it's delicious. it always smells disgusting. and then, cerimonious, we drink it together. because that's what family does.
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Ya'll want to know the funniest shit?
I'm researching the era when Alastor was alive right now to get a better idea of both his character, the life he lived before Hell, and to hash out a backstory for him.
And so, apparently, Alastor lived through the Prohibition (which was basically the United States government illegalizing the manufacture, transportation, and sale of alcohol because they thought it was the cause of a lot of domestic violence and child abandonment).
Alastor canonically died in 1933.
Do you know how long the Prohibition lasted?
From 1920-1933.
ALASTOR LITERALLY DIED THE SAME YEAR ALCOHOL BECAME LEGAL AGAIN. CAN YOU IMAGINE HOW BITTER HE MUST'VE BEEN?
The Prohibition officially ended on December 5, 1933, and now my headcanon is that Alastor died December 6, 1933. Literally the day after he could legally drink all the booze he wanted.
I am learning a LOT about New Orleans and the era Alastor lived through (including the gay community in the city at the time) which has been a lot of fun, and I just wanted to share that tidbit because it is so fucking funny to me.
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Loved By Time
Part 2
"H-hi, um—crap... I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne. Uh... It's nice to meet you. My name's Danny— wait, shit— you probably already know that."
It was an odd first impression, to say the least. The boy in front of him is an open book; quite obviously nervous and uncomfortable. Black hair with white covering nearly the bottom half that doesn't look dyed, light blue eyes, and a telltale of a wide scar right below his left eye, making the skin lighter than the rest of his otherwise tan skin.
Bruce in turn chuckles kindly at him, shaking his head. There was only him currently in Gotham; all of his kids were still dispatched elsewhere so Danny had time to adjust to the new environment. He reassures the boy that he's fine— that he'll fit right in and, in truth, he was somewhat right.
Dick, Steph, and Duke were the first ones to greet him; giving the boy quite a scare. He had met with Tim not long after, surprising the latter on brief comments about his works.
The strange things about Danny started when he met Duke. The two had started off great; they both introduced themselves kindly and shook hands. But something must've happened while they shook—because Duke's face had paled slightly as his eyes widen. Danny must've noticed; because the boy himself immediately placed a hand to cover Duke's eyes, whispering something in a rush.
“Don't— I know you can see it. Don't look at it. Don't look at me in the eyes. Don't say anything.”
He then met Jason and Damian.
Something must've snapped within the two, because the next thing anyone knew, the two had practically lunged at him.
Bruce had no time to react.
No one had time to react.
No one had time to react when a large, eldritch abomination of a knight loomed over Danny's figure, caging him within one of it's arm. A large greatsword was drawn, pointing at Jason and Damian who abruptly froze, ready to strike the moment they move even an inch.
A silence engulfed the manor as their eyes all widen in horror; the only thing audible being Danny's heart rattling within his ribcage and his heavy breathing mixed with wheezing, clear panic etched in the way his breathing didn't seem consistent.
"Do not. Touch. The child."
&—
Read: Part 1
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the body is such a strange and vapid creature. i am eating soup with noodles that i cooked in a microwave. i don't know how microwaves work, only that most of my meals come from her yellow mouth. i put mine on the fridge; i have to stand on tip toes to take the bowl out, balancing it on fingertips.
i have to eat soup because i'm coughing up blood.
when you have been raised wrong, conditions of alarm are offset. which is to say that three weeks ago, i had a panic attack because i thought i saw him the liquor store. i collapsed into a heap, ready to sob into multicolored gin bottles. it was just someone who looked a lot like him, working a shitty 9-5. the poor man. what must it be like, to have someone go pale at your profile.
i spoke too loudly during a zoom meeting, and nobody answered immediately. the shame of that scoured my entire ribcage clean. i hated the experience so much i wrote it down in my notes: a reminder not to be so fucking annoying!
but the conditions of alarm are met at the moment. i am well-and-truly ill, the blood in my hand and on the pavement. at this moment in dr. house episodes i would be swaying, and then i'd collapse delicately and awaken in a crisp hospital bed. instead my dog bites my hand in excitement. now there is blood on his muzzle.
i am diabolically, almost robotically calm about it. i laugh about it, actually. i am feeling positively waifish. i am one nightgown away from holding an oil lamp up and saying milord? are thee turnin' in for the night? new blood is pinkish, almost feminine in her brightness, a tease into the tissue.
i haven't ever cried at a funeral. i didn't know you were actually allowed to. it felt like new blood - a way of making it about me, when my job is to flatter the shadows and stay tucked out of the way. i am always doing something for someone else. i am always earning my keep. i am always loveable, because i will do what it takes to make you able to love me.
here are the personal things i have been worried about in the last three weeks: if the spider i put outside was now able to restart her life. if an hour and a half every day is enough walking for a greyhound. if i drink too much coffee. if all my friends secretly hate me. if i'm a bad friend and i should be sad about it. what happens after this next goalpost? what if i'm deeply and inherently boring?
i cough up blood. my mouth tastes like iron gummies. i am not worried about this. my body is a seahorse. my body is an ocean wave. i can detach from it, be outside of it - just float away.
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I (UK) don't know where many USA cities are, but I sure do know that Nashville is in Tennessee, thanks to Joe Hills from Nashville, Tennessee.
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