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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Something I find amazing about Dungeon Meshi is how much "restraint" Ryoko Kui shows when telling this story. It's so clearly crafted to be the best story it can be.
By that I mean how she had SO MUCH world building for this story but still kept it as contained as it needed to be, it's a story about a few characters inside one dungeon, even if the world is expansive the story isn't. And even with the amount of characters she clearly loves so much she never got side tracked as I see so many other mangas get. The world is alive, other people exist fully with their own lives, but it stays true to the story that's being told in this universe.
I think it really shines through with how the world building relevant to the story is slowly shown to us in a non expository way, that's also something I see a lot, especially in movies, just stopping everything on it's tracks so they can info dump about the world to you, but in dungeon meshi its all so organic... magic is explained because some characters are ignorant, cultural differences are shown through cultural clashes, world history is implied through relevant conversation (monster facts are info-dumped to us but even that is in character) it's all really good and I don't think I could have gotten this into it if everything was just laid out in front of me right away.
This is all to say I'm glad we have the adventurer's bible and all this extra content that didn't fit into the story but I'm glad they weren't forced into it in detriment to the storytelling.
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okay but you see sam has ALSO fallen for dean's act. sam also believes dean to be the macho, daddy's soldier, beer boobs cars guy he presents himself as. this is why sam makes fun of dean whenever he even lightly steps out of that mold and thinks it's harmless banter instead of attacking an insecurity. it's why he laughs when john talks down to dean in the early seasons and it's why he seems surprised when dean is more comfortable with himself in the later seasons. it's why he just scoffs but doesn't push it when dean puts up a front and refuses to talk about his emotions and just accepts whatever excuse he makes at face value. it's why he offers dean a strip club to make him feel better when cas dies. and this isn't his fault!! dean has spent a very long time perfecting this image in front of everyone and ESPECIALLY to sam because along with it comes safety and security and stability and the only person. who has consistently been able to see through it. is castiel
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touya is halfway through his workday, grease up to his elbows, little jumpsuit half undone down to his waist, when iguchi comes in to tell him "someone's askin' for you out here".
he's not sure who it could be, but there's no telling, so he just decides to take a smoke break and wander out of the automotive garage, maybe imagining one of siblings out on the pavement.
but the minute he sees you, he stops. nearly drops his cigarette on a rough, "oh shit."
it's been a while since he's seen you, a year or two, and the packet of paper in your hand can only mean one, bullshit thing.
"nah, nah, nah, i ain't signing any papers," is how he greets you, shaking his head the minute you start up the path with a big, determined frown. touya doesn't run, but he sure twists on his heel and starts back up the path, too, as you start calling out his name.
practically all of his coworkers are watching when he comes back into view, not bothering to hide how nosy they're being. their audience makes you falter just a tad and touya clings onto it; anything to stop you.
"never a good sign when your wife comes to find you at work."
there's a long silence, from everyone. when he looks back at you—at your manilla folder and carefully stapled documents, your petition for divorce—your eyes are heavy and wet, almost the same way they were when the two of you stood in a courtroom, lying about your age in order to pledge until death do you part.
almost. now they're just sad.
from somewhere in the garage, toga calls out a bewildered, "you have a wife?" that makes him feel a way he can't understand, both amused and devastated all at once.
your wedding ring isn't on your finger, but if he stares long enough, he can maybe see the difference in color of your skin, a former tan-line that's begun to fade.
he sold his for stuff he shouldn't have been buying, stuff that ruined him and you and your marriage, a long time ago.
but touya only smiles, and calls back, "yeah, i do."
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Imagine Astarion with ears so sensitive that he's never willingly allowed anyone to touch them except for you. Imagine laying next to him in your bed, facing him, lifting your hand up slowly for that first touch. His eyes on yours, the rapidity of the breath he doesn't need to take, but still does reflexively. Seeing that he's nervous, but that he's trusting you, feeling his shaking hand come to rest on your waist. The audible sound he makes- half a moan, half a gasp- when you finally brush your thumb over the soft skin at the tip of his ear.
You trace the long shell of his ear and watch his pretty eyes, deep red like velvet in the moonlight, flutter shut. He says your name softly, as close as you've ever heard him to prayer. You pinch his earlobe gently, and his hips roll forward involuntarily, the jut of his hipbone pressing against your thigh as he makes himself still. Heat flares low in your belly, but you tamp it down as quickly as possible- likewise, Astarion makes himself still against you. This isn't sex and won't become sex, you'd promised each other (though that's not to say that you won't explore this thoroughly during one of your hours-long lovemaking sessions. He is all about experimentation these days, after all).
You lay there, touching him in his most vulnerable place, with reverence and grace and occasionally disbelief that you could be here at all with this beautiful, horrible, ridiculous and wonderful man, that you could be trusted so completely. You take in his every shuddering breath, the flexing of his fingers in your shirt, the softness of his mouth when he presses his lips to yours and tells you he loves you. If you have your way, if he has his, if somehow your utterly insane lives hold together for a year or a decade or ten, it will always be like this.
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actually I'm kind of curious about this because it was a huge debate among my peers in my community
Clarifications under the cut:
The poster is in a public space where it is typical for everyday people to post things. It is not someone's private property or possession. Think piece of paper taped to a telephone pole, not sign in a storefront or in someone's yard.
The poster is not protected by law; you are very unlikely to face legal consequences for vandalizing it. Caveat: some peers have argued that it risks being socially consequential because an organization or demographic that you are a part of may be judged as intolerant/oppressive/disruptive/otherwise unpleasant if people witness your actions, and thus advocated against vandalism for fear of damaging your public image.
The poster is not an expensive or personal piece of artwork; it is a mass produced print on letter paper.
You are vehemently opposed to the message displayed on the poster, but it is an opinion that people are free to have in your country.
The 4th option refers to things like intentionally putting your own poster over top of the bad poster or otherwise making the bad poster harder to view; some people argued that targeting the poster for removal is out of line, but posting your own messages is an innocent action that you are well within your right to do (in this context, posters regularly eclipse each other as new ones are posted over top of outdated ones due to limited space)
The poster is part of a campaign; it's not unique. There are many postings of it across the community.
This is all assuming that the offending poster is not old and would typically not be considered fair game for pruning for quite some time, and that it is being specifically targeted for removal because of its message (rather than petty vandalism or because it's obstructive or damaged). E.g., if a poster is advertising an event happening on April 20th, it's typical to prune it after that date but not before.
Of course the situation that prompted the real life debate did involve a specific offending message, but I'm not going to specify what it was for now because I think it'll skew the results as people will just end up voting based on whether they like or dislike that message, which isn't the point of this. For this poll we are assuming that it IS a message that you are very opposed to; you can substitute in your own opinion that you have strong feelings about.
Please reblog for sample size!
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