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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What if I drew Machete and Vasco as dragons? What then? What if I made them twine their tails together (hold hands)?
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Somebody mentioned in a tag on one of my posts the scene where Marco Animorphs is showering after antmageddon and he finds an ant stuck to his hip by the pincers where it presumably was trying to bite him in half when he was an ant and then it died from him becoming very big very fast and I feel like that scene, and the scene where Cassie finds a sliver of a sentient person’s flesh between her teeth while she’s flossing and then flosses until her gums bleed, really deserve recognition in the literary canon. Applegate deserves an award. There should be a TV Trope named after whatever the fuck that is. Like fridge horror but diegetic. Bathroom horror. Your bedtime bathroom routine as an opportunity for personal confrontation with the violent detritus of the dead which lingers in and on your body even after you have ostensibly stripped yourself of weapons and healed over all your wounds.
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Batman: You need a new costume. That one provides no protection.
Danny: oh I cant.
Batman: You won’t owe me for it.
Danny: no I literally cant. Like if i remove it it just returns.
Batman:………. Explain.
Danny: look *takes off glove and explodes it into pieces*
*glove reforms on his hand*
Danny: see? Can’t get rid of it. It’ll just heal itself.
Batfam: …
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A lot of us with ADHD are familiar with the concept of time blindness, but for anyone who isn't: it's a neurological inability to have a consistent sense of the passage of time. If you put me in an empty room, gave me a button and told me to press it when I think it's been 15 minutes, I might press it after..... idk, anywhere between 3 minutes and 2 hours? And if we repeated it the next day the result would probably be wildly different!
But something I've only seen mentioned in one (1) Reddit post, which took some extensive digging to find, is the same effect extending to ALL things measured in numbers. Distance, weight, length, height, amount, space, volume, percentage... For me, small numbers are a bit easier, I could approximate a centimetre probably, but a metre would be much harder and 10 or 100 would likely miss the mark by a lot. Also, anything that can't be easily measured with a ruler or a measuring tape (like weight or volume) is even harder since I don't encounter reference points (like a 1kg hand weight) for those as frequently as I see visual representations of specific lengths.
It's not dyscalculia or anything like that, I'm decent at math (and the OP of the Reddit post was a math major) and I have no other difficulties with numbers, it's just a disconnect in translating real life experiences like sensory input into numbers (and possibly also inconsistent processing of sensory input? Like how the same sound volume is okay one day but hurts my ears the next?), which I think is basically the same thing as what happens with time blindness. For now I've been calling it "measurement blindness" since I've never seen a name for it anywhere, but maybe "quantity blindness" could also work?
I've talked to other people with time blindness to see if they experience this too, but so far none of them have known what I'm talking about. I'd really like to know how many of us are out there and if anyone knows literally anything actually scientific about this very inconvenient phenomenon!
Tl;dr: bc I am wordy:
It's like time blindness but for all things measured in numbers
Not dyscalculia or caused by it
Pretty much never seen it talked about anywhere
Please tell me if it sounds familiar and/or you know something about it, thank
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Prompt 95
Captain Marvel, new Den-Mother (despite the fact he himself is a child even if the league isn’t aware of that fact) for the Young Justice team blinks. Klarion, so-called chaos lord, blinks back in the middle of a spell.
He tilts his head. The other baby realms-being mirrors him. His own magic-fueled core pulses, and a chaos-core vibrates back. Oh. Ah. So that’s what’s happening.
“They can’t play right now,” he explains to the barely-younger ancient-in-training, ignoring the team’s incredulous looks at his words with the practice of someone who had to deal with the voices of gods all the time.
And Batman’s narrowing eyes. Scary.
The chaos-core thrums in a distinct pouting-sensation, alongside a whine unique to young ghostlings. A whine that he replied with, even if only they could hear. Come play later, busy now, he insisted again, even if Klarion’s pouting was turning visible before it shifted to a scowl.
“Fiiine…” And then the chaosling was gone, his familiar with him. Billy really wished he could join in disappearing, seeing the info-hungry look in the others’ eyes.
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Flowey’s so funny and has me so fucked up like he’s a talking flower. He tries to kill you upon your first interaction. He is ten years old. He is damaged beyond repair. He’s a flower named Flowey. He’s become friends with every single character. He’s killed all of them countless times. He knows everything about everyone. He doesn’t care anymore. He takes care of his mom when she can’t take care of herself. He’s killed her before. He doesn’t care if you kill her. He thinks she’s trying to replace him. He just wants to be himself again. He wants to destroy everything. He hates you. You’re the only one who understands him. He wants his best friend back. He’s terrified of them. He believes in kill or be killed because he died by giving mercy to the wrong person. He believes himself to be the wrong person. He doesn’t understand when you show him that kindness he showed others, even when you know he could kill you for it. He’s tried every route. He asks you if you have anything better to do when you try to do the same. He’s a direct reflection of the player. He’s a fucking talking flower named flowey and his only voice line is by Ronald McDonald and his officially licensed plush does a little dance for you
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Can you give Sphynx!Grian a chinchilla? I mean draw him with a chinchilla
I MOST CERTAINLY CAN!!!!
little guy befriends an even littler guy
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