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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Half-foots are highly discriminated against in the world of dungeon meshi.
They have a difficult time living in places outside of their own territories because places where larger races live aren’t built for their size and crowds can be dangerous.
they’re the least valued race by long lived races because their life spans are the shortest out of all the races. this means that they’re dehumanized and often considered disposable. their superior senses make other races use them as “lures” when hunting succubi/mermaids (usually dying in the process).
They’re often mistaken for/treated like children because of their appearances, and because of this they have a difficult time getting jobs because it’s assumed that they’re immature/can’t handle it.
Because of this, when living outside of Half-foot territories they’re forced to get money by any means necessary (often resorting to crime), so other races stereotype them as “cunning” “greedy” and “manipulative”.
On top of that, members of long lived races who tend to fetishize them.
Even the name “Half-foot” is discriminatory.
Ryoko Kui does a fantastic job at world building.
But even after all of that, im not gonna stop talking about how bad i wanna put Chi Chi in my pocket.
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Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".
Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"
And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".
Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.
At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.
So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!
Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!
Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!
Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.
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It's Dash's first time out of Amity Park, and he's just found another ghost! But like, one that's like Phantom!
More solid and stuff!
He had to be smuggled out by his mom's sister twice removed, and he had to pack a lot of stuff. The entire time they were whispering about "going to ground" and "it's for his own good", but Dash was way too excited about leaving Amity Park to pay too much attention to that stuff.
The outside world is wild. Lots of people have powers like him, and the cops don't beat the shit out of them for it!
Okay well some do, but not like in Amity!
The internet is so much bigger and better than inside Amity, he has a rectangle with a screen that he can touch and it's a phone, there's this thing called tiktok, bluetooth is a thing that exists and that's wild, and...he's just really having a great time.
But!
During a...ghost attack? Maybe not a ghost, just some dude with powers and issues throwing a tantrum.
While that guy attacks the twice removed aunt Dash is with, a ghost hero like Phantom shows up!
He has to talk to this dude!
He waits until he's finishing up wiping the floor with the idiot to speak up, though. Super rude to interrupt a fight.
"Hey! Hey, there's more of you guys?! I thought Phantom was the only one!"
In a blink, the ghost-like-Phantom is floating in front of him, eyes weirdly intent.
"There's other Kryptonians?" he asks, sounding shocked.
"Is that what you're called? Yeah, Phantom; he's in Amity Park."
"I've never heard of that place."
"Well yeah, no one's allowed to leave."
"Superman," his twice removed aunt speaks up, tugging Dash until he's behind her. "Please. The entire town is being targeted by the government, and anyone who tries to report it ends up missing."
The hero, Superman (what a lame name), hesitates, and then nods.
"Alright, lets get you folks to safety. We'll sort out the rest later."
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