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.
52K notes
·
View notes
kids remind me, often, of the things i've taught myself out of.
i have a big dog. he looks like a deer. he is taller than most young children. while we were on a trail the other day, a boy coming our direction saw us and froze. he took a step back and said: "i'm feeling nervous. your - your dog is kind of big."
goblin and i both stopped walking immediately. "he is kind of a big dog," i admitted. "he's called a greyhound. they are gentle but they are pretty tall, which is kind of scary, you're right. their legs are so long because they are made for running fast. i am sorry we scared you. would you like us to stand still while you move past us, or would you feel more safe in your body if we move and you stay still?'
"oh. i didn't know that about - greyhounds. i think i ... i want to stay still," he said. at this point, his adult had caught up to us. "i'm nervous about the dog," he told her, "so i'm - i'm gonna stay still." she didn't argue. she didn't make fun of him. she just smiled at him and at me and held his hand while goblin and i, with as wide of a berth as we could make, crept our way through.
behind us, i heard him exhale a deep breath and kind of laugh - "he was really big, huh? she said it's because greyhounds have to go fast."
"he was big," she said. "i understand why that could have made you a little scared."
"yeah. next time i - next time do you think i could maybe ask to touch him? when - i mean, next time, maybe, if i'm not nervous."
later, going to a work event, in the big city, i stood outside, trembling. my social anxiety as a caught bird in my chest. i took a deep breath and turned to my coworker. she's not even really my friend yet. i told her: "i feel nervous about this. i am not used to meeting new people, ever since covid."
she laughed, but not in a mean way. she said she was nervous too. she reached her hand out and held mine, and we both took another deep breath and walked in like that, interlinked. a few people asked us - together? - and i told the truth: i feel nervous, and she's helping. over and over i watched people relax too, admitting i feel really kind of shy lately actually, thank you for saying that.
the next time i go to an event, and i feel a little scared, i ask right away: wanna hold hands? this feels a little dangerous. i hesitate less. i don't hide it as much. i watch for other people who are also nervous and say - it's kinda hard, huh?
i know, logically, i'm not good at asking for help. but i am also not good at noticing when i need help. i've trained myself out of asking completely, but i've also trained myself to never accept my own fears or excuses. i have trained myself to tamp down every anxiety and just-push-through. i don't know what i'm protecting myself from - just that i never think to admit it to anyone.
but every person on earth occasionally needs comfort. every person on earth occasionally needs connection. many of us were taught independence is the same thing as never needing anything.
each of us should have had an adult who heard - i feel nervous and held our hand and asked us how we could be helped to feel safe. no judgement, and no chiding. many of us did not. many of us were punished for the ways that we seemed "weak".
but here is something: i am an adult now. and i get nervous a lot, actually. and if you are an adult and you are feeling a little nervous - come talk to me. we can hold hands and figure out what will help us feel safe in our bodies. and maybe, next time, if we're brave, we can pet the dog that's passing.
104K notes
·
View notes
Consider this: ghosts are actually exactly what the Fentons think they are.
They're snapshots of a longing so strong, unfinished business so deep it reaches out beyond life. Lingers just a bit longer. And if it happens to meet a dense cloud of ectoplasm (invisible to the naked eye, but omnipresent even in the mortal realm), it coalesces. The ectoplasm fits into the shape of it. Which, when the desire is strong enough, it's got a rough idea of its self-image. This tends to mean a more humanoid figure, though it's more often warped in some way–a self-reflection, skewed by said desire. The warping varies on the dead soul’s perception of themselves, the intensity of their desire, how much time passed after death, and how much ectoplasm was present.
In short… no matter how “normal" a ghost looks or acts, it really, truly isn't human. It's animated ectoplasm with a single goal: an obsession. Nothing else. They're more akin to plants than animals, following a single drive with no emotion. They react to stimuli, recognize threats (including other ghosts), and can even imitate human speech and mannerisms to obtain fulfillment of their obsession.
Not “evil" by any stretch, but they're entirely driven by instinct. A tree doesn't pause to consider the rocks it breaks with its roots. A cordyceps doesn't torture its host for fun, or kill with malice. It just does. It follows code in its DNA to survive and multiply–And ghosts just follow the code in its ectoplasm to fulfill its obsession. The more powerful a ghost, the better it's able to overcome obstacles preventing this–whether through brute force, or manipulation. This power is always directly proportional to the amount of ectoplasm present at the time of formation, and how much time passed since death.
What then, does this mean for Danny? Danny, who's previously come to the conclusion that he's only half-ghost, which surely explains how he retained his mind? His independent thoughts and emotions?
What does this mean for Phantom, who experienced an entire world’s worth of ectoplasm condensed as a singularity, at the exact time of his death? Whose strength only grows and begins to exceed every limit they previously thought possible?
If a ghost was as strong as him… could it mimic a human perfectly? Down to a molecular level?
Could it, in its desire to fill an obsession… trick its own fake mind into thinking it was still human? Or half-ghost?
913 notes
·
View notes