actually formative

i’m

not sure what i was trying to do, but here’s this height chart i guess??

majahawt  asked:

Hey, you know some things about teeth, right? I had 3 of my wisdom teeth out 5-6 years ago and they said I was missing the last one - but now it's coming out. Was it hiding?

Nah, that’s just delayed development!

Tooth development is weird. The crowns actually form first, then the roots! Kids have these horrible little nubs of enamel floating around in their jaws, it’s so weird. 

Teeth typically develop on a predictable timeline (so much so that we can use them for aging a skeleton), but because Biology Is Weird, sometimes you get premature development and a person’s teeth come in early, or sometimes you get delayed development where a tooth comes in late. It’s almost always the third molars that come in super late because they’re the last to form and your body can say “nah” for whatever reason. In genetic agenesis, you don’t have the ameloblasts/odontoblasts (think like, the Play-doh fun factory, except for teeth) to even make the teeth- yours just took a while to kick on! Specifically, I have a feeling it was your ameloblasts, which make enamel- you can see partially formed teeth in x-rays, so you probably didn’t have the enamel nub, otherwise they would have seen it.

(Also, I hope you don’t mind that I published this- it’s a really cool question!)

3

Data in ‘The Quality Of Life’

This episode has to be one of my most favorites so far. I just love the whole message of protecting a new life form. It actually makes me think about how people protect rare and endangered animal species, which is something that I  personally believe in, and is also a charity I support. But that aside, the way Data is so unrelenting in his cause, is part of the reason why I can identify with him and I think why so many other people can as well.

It is healthy to stand by one’s own convictions.

This one just really reached me. :)

itsbetterthananal replied to your post “Listen, we all just gotta admit to ourselves that makeup is a gray…”

ive been thinking about this a lot lately but cant think of a way to state it. like i want to make valid criticisms of the beauty industry and how harmful it can be but then i get a million people being like oh another person talking about how makeup is bad its an art!! like bitch i know its an art and im not tryna insult makeup artists or make someone feel bad for wearing makeup but there are definite issues that nobody is talking about!

I totally agree. In recent years we’ve all spent so much time and effort in taking makeup out of the metaphorical “shadows”; viewing makeup as an actual art form, disregarding the idea that girls who partake in makeup are somehow frivolous, etc… The problem now lies in that we’ve spent so much time in building up these ideas that trying to asses the concept of makeup critically can now be seen as almost sacrilegious to these previous efforts.

I want to see Greek gods in the modern era.

I want to see Zeus in a tailored suit and shaggy beard, a walking disparity of the loud, brash, post-graduate frat boy variety who can’t pass a woman on the street without catcalls, who has more one-night stands than he could possibly keep in his head, for whom adultery comes as naturally as the weather he predicts on the Channel 4 News—with startlingly accuracy, and an endless wealth of charisma.

I want to see Hera walking tall, six-inch heels and not a wrinkle in her skirt, knowing her boyfriend is cheating, and knowing with equal certainty that she is better, stronger, fiercer than he will ever be, a wedding planner with an eye of steel, spotting vulnerability, slicing it open, teaching every woman who crosses her path to value themselves over any mistake made in the name of men and love.

I want to see Poseidon in Olympic prime, a gym rat who skives off class to shatter backstroke records, who spends his summers lifeguarding at the city pool, who keeps an ever-expanding aquarium in his bedroom and coaxes all the pretty girls up to visit his fish, his charm as impressive as the earth-rending temper he generally uses to fuel his competitive nature.

I want to see Hades, big, hulking, quieter than his brothers would ever think to be, who dresses in neat dark clothes, and polishes his boots, and spends more time reading than fighting, who debates eventuality and ethics, who stoically reminds everyone how enormous, how terrifying, how inescapable a thing like silent inevitability can be.

I want to see Hermes in a beanie, with watercolor splashes of tattoo crawling up his arms and holes in his Chucks, a bike messenger with no helmet, no regard for the rules of the road, all cataclysmic laughter, lock-pick tricks passed along to every kid who thinks to ask, thumbing through his iPhone without a care in the world.

I want to see Athena with reading glasses pushed high on her head, six books in her bag and a switchblade in her back pocket, her clothing as neatly ordered as her mind is feverish, brilliance and temper clashing and blending, doing her best to look dignified—even when her brain chemistry rockets ahead of her well-intentioned plans.

I want to see Apollo splattered with acrylics, board shorts and Monster headphones and a beautiful classic car, busking on street corners, not because he has no choice, but because the sunlight catching on a sticker-patterned acoustic is summer incarnate, because music is blood, because the act of creation is the ultimate in sublime.

I want to see Artemis in ripped jeans and haphazard topknot, star of the soccer team, the track team, the archery team, who rides a motorcycle, and keeps a tribe of girls around her at all times, and does not care for men, for expectation, for anything but volunteer hours down at the local animal shelter and falling asleep under the stars.

I want to see Aphrodite in sundress and scarf, homemade jewelry and lavish amounts of bright red lipstick, who is excellent at public speaking, at theater auditions, at soothing bruised egos and sparking epic fights, who kisses as easily as she breathes and scrawls poetry onto bathroom stalls.

I want to see Ares all but living in the boxing ring, cutoff shirts and sweats, red-faced under a crew cut as he punches, punches, punches until the noise in his head dims, a warrior with no war, all crude jokes and blind fury, totally incapable of understanding what it is to sit, think, plan before running screaming into the fray.

I want to see Demeter with the best garden you’ve seen in your life, with a lawn care business she runs out of her garage, a teenage prodigy grown into a joint-custody single mother, who teaches her carefree daughter all she knows while scaring off the hopeful neighborhood boys with the pet python draped across her shoulders.

I want to see Dionysus with a joint in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other, baggy hoodies and three-week-old jeans, who brews his own beer in his basement and greets all visitors with a fresh pack of Oreos and half-stoned theories of the universe, of birth and death and partying mid-week, because why not, man?

I want to see Hephaestus with a workshop taking up the majority of his house, whose kitchen is overrun with blowtorches, whose bathrooms are home to all manner of hodge-podge invention, who walks with a cane and forgets his laundry for weeks at a time, and strings together the most beautiful steampunk costumes at any convention at the drop of a hat.

I want to see wood nymphs fighting against climate change, waving their signs and pushing for scientific progress. I want to see epic heroes sitting down to Magic: The Gathering tournaments, poker brawls, Call of Duty all-nighters with beer and snapbacks. I want to see Medusa working a women’s shelter, want to see Achilles training for deployment, want to see Prometheus serving endless community service stints for what he calls providing necessary welfare with stolen goods.

Give me modern mythology. I could play for hours in that sandbox.

my experience with adhd
  • I don’t even remember putting that thing down but now it’s not in my hand and I don’t know where it went
  • ‘what do you mean you can just think about nothing? what’s that like? I don’t understand’
  • *tuning out of a conversation halfway through somebody else’s sentence because I just thought of something interesting*
  • carrying my psychiatrist’s business card with me at all times because I see her once a month and every time I go I forget what floor her office is on. I’ve been there 8 times
  • ‘Between A & B, A would be the right thing to do’ *a cascading thought process that takes a few seconds tops, justifying option B* ‘actually B would be the right thing to do’
    • somebody else, later: why did you think B was the right thing to do??
    • me: …. it’s not important, I’ll know better next time
    • (spoiler: I won’t know better next time)
  • I know you already told me this thing like 12 times but can you tell me again just one more time because I forgot
  • it’s not that I forgot that I wasn’t supposed to do this thing. it’s just that in that particular moment i thought it was okay to do it anyway for reasons that would take 48 minutes to explain even though it only took me 3 seconds to justify it in my thoughts, so it’s easier for me to just say ‘I forgot’
  • ‘I already told you that’ ‘really? I must have forgotten, i’m sorry’ ‘it was FIVE MINUTES AGO. in this SAME CONVERSATION’
  • this internal conversation:
    • me: I feel motivated to do this responsible thing
    • me: if I don’t do this responsible thing right now I will get distracted and forget to do it for another 5 hours
    • me: so I should do this thing right this second, there is nothing stopping me
    • me: after I finish this one cell phone game
    • me, 5 hours later: I KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN
  • almost flunking a class because I straight up didn’t know any homework had been assigned despite loving the class and always attending
  • trusting the memory of literally anyone else over my own memory
  • intending to do something for days. sometimes months. never doing it
  • *cuddling somebody* mm this is nice … *2 seconds later* bored now
  • somebody is mad at me. I might as well fucking d i e
  • the options in company are: overshare about the one thing I care about or not talk at all
  • insensitive or inattentive? YOU decide (and when you tell me that i hurt your feelings and I didn’t notice I’ll rejection sensitive dysphoria into fantasies of disappearing forever)
  • being excellent at my job for months on end, doing everything right and everything well, and then suddenly & without explanation being t h e  w o r s t at it for several weeks, making dumb mistakes everywhere for no discernible reason
  • when asked to explain something: well it all started when I was a baby
    • ‘they don’t need that much explanation’ well YOU tell ME where to start b/c I have no fucking clue tbh
  • i can’t throw away anything b/c when I look at it I remember all the sentimental reasons I keep it around and they seem just as important as actually needing it and when I close the storage box back up I forget I had it in the first place until the next time I try to get rid of my clutter and repeat this process
  • i wasnt’ idle for a second all day and yet I didn’t accomplish a n y t h i n g
  • am i a speed-reader or was I so impatient for what came next that I read only half a page and then skipped to the next one?
  • getting excited about a project, starting it, then racing to finish it as fast as I can because when I get bored I’ll abandon it and never go back. must beat the boredom
    • edit my fics? working twice on the same idea? /uproarious laughter
    • well I fucked that up. too bad I can never rework it because I no longer have passionate energy for it
  • me, opening a bottle of adhd meds: I don’t have adhd. I’m just a lazy bum who doesn’t try hard enough
2

time to dance // panic! at the disco

3

another teaser. I’m debating if I should open pre-order for international too. this project actually in a form of light novel with @sportymochi (I’m still waiting, you biatch). I’m making the art. If possible I’d make a separate book for my illustrations and character designs. what do you think?

4

What could she possibly be?

Really, the reason people keep saying “this is just Homestuck” about this or that web serial isn’t due to lack of imagination - it’s because Homestuck was basically the vanguard of a modern resurgence of the epistolary novel as a mainstream art form. I’m actually really curious what name we’re going to settle on for the revived genre - it’s different enough from traditional epistolary novels that it can’t really fall under the same label, but we can’t keep calling them Homestuck-alikes forever.

6

A subtle reminder that Rob is the father in real life [for added effect]

  • my 11 year old sister: *comes running into my room* "I HAVE AN IMPORTANT QUESTION"
  • me: "what"
  • my sister: *pauses and whispers* "do you ship Keith and lance?"
  • me, sweating, as I never tell her about things I ship that are gay in fear of my parents finding out: *stays silent and hopes she leaves*
  • my sister: "ANSWER ME. DO YOU?"
  • me: *silent*
  • my sister: "A N S W E R"
  • me: "w-wha? Pfft. No, of course not what? Where'd uh- where'd you get that idea from?"
  • my sister: "oh... cause I do. They'd be so cute together! Like aw !"
  • me: *jaw drops* "ok I lied I do o ship them so hard" *shows her my Tumblr*
  • *the both of us proceed to look up klance fan art*