#running through

[briskchips]

WHAT'S THAT PUPPET BOY?

[daisyofwaterdeep]

had a dream I went to a hozier concert and mr. hozier stopped singing and pointed to me in the crowd and asked me to go get him some extra crispy tofu and a blueberry shake for after the show and then the crowd passed his debit card to me and when I got it I could see his real legal name was Horace Bob-omb

[faunflame]

so I was reading Pope Francis’s Wikipedia page (the one that died recently) out of curiosity Cus I had a bunch of memories from Italian classes watching videos and tv show Documentary, emergency help/ police or food episodes talking now and then about the Pope and his tours around cities like Bologna, Venice and Rome with the screwy Pope Mobile, every episode describing him as sort of the people’s pope and how he didn’t mind just being there as a person to other people

he really was just an old guy

that kind of just wanted stuff to be better, was humble, actually lived according to his own words, practiced what he preached

he made a lot of mistakes, but still tried to be honest and apologetic, kind of slipped on a lot of stuff, and few of his opinions weren’t really the best but still really progressive for a country like Italy, but WHAT GUY, genuinely, does this

“Shortly before his death, Francis donated most of his personal wealth, approximately €200,000, to support a pasta-making project at a youth prison in Rome.”

thats heartwarming as man

[chloesimaginationthings]

HAPPY FNAF SECRET OF THE MIMIC DAY!!

[inkskinned]

i keep thinking about how rfk said that autistic people "will never write a poem." i keep thinking about that, about if humanity is calculated on the back of old verse. how far we measure personhood is in baseball and stanza breaks.

i keep thinking - i have over 7k poems on here alone. language can be a special interest, after all. did you know the word autism comes almost direct from the greek word autos, meaning "self"? self-ism.

maybe he is right - i haven't really played baseball. i was a ballet dancer instead. and besides - my sister once accidentally hit me in the face with an aluminum bat. i'm not sure if the injury gives me half points. am i only a person in the dugout? hand in a mitt? swinging?

does softball count? does cricket? am i a person if i throw the ball to my dog. am i a person as long as the ball is in the air, or do i stop being a person as it rolls into the bushes. i took my girlfriend to fenway recently; was i a person in the sun, with my hands up, with the game laid out at my feet in a diamond. i felt like a person, but that was back in the summer, and i often feel my most person-like then.

am i more of a person because of the sheer number of things i've written? does quality matter, or is it quantity? i used to write entire books every summer in high school - i wasn't doing well. i felt the least like-a-person back then. but then - does any person feel human in high school?

in the library, ink on my skin, i feel personhood shutter at the edges of myself. actually, writing feels blissfully like not being myself. it feels birdlike; escaping into creation so my body dissolves and i survive only by muscle memory. i am not there, i am writing.

but who can deny the falconlike focus of warsan shire, the tenderness of mary oliver, the sheer skill of amanda gorman. those are poets. they are certainly human. you could line them up with the way their words have influenced us and measure their literary shadows like wings.

perhaps it was very assumptive of me to want to be a poet rather than "a [ label ] poet." i wanted the work to fill itself in, rather than be stained by what i am. i do not write in despite of my neurodivergence, i am just neurodivergent and writing.

does the poem have to be in english or can i send it through my palms into the coat of my dog. does the poem have to make sense. does the poem have to love you back.

if i break a glass, will the poem appear naturally? or is the act of breaking the glass human-enough. the shards of my life glittering out beneath me - do i have to write the poem, or is it self-evident in the pile of glass splinters? i cannot grasp this world the way other people can. regardless, i endeavor to touch - even the mess - very gently.

i broke my toenail against my coffee table recently. i released a bug outdoors. i made coffee. i walked my dog.

i didn't write a poem about any of these things.

something else, then. existing without humanity.

[songs2aiart]

System of a Down - Spiders

“The piercing radiant moon The storming of poor June All the life running through her hair”

“Approaching guiding light Our shallow years in fright Dreams are made winding through my head”

“Your lives are open wide The V-chip gives them sight Of all the life running through her hair” https://youtu.be/up3RSFGCUpY

[limbcom]

"Holding your hand doesn't have to mean that I accept your friendship," the liar said to the truthful, trying to lie in front of the only person who understands his intentions.

He knows, of course, that the liar did not lie. For the liar is also the truthful.

[notrobinsomethingworse]

Kid!Tim, showing Robin his room: So we have my photography cubby, not to be confused by my homework cubby. Then my desk, bed, conspiracy wall, wardrobe, other desk for my conspiracy wall-

Robin!Jason, nodding along with a fake smile. Pointing towards a side desk with candles and several framed photos of Batman: And what’s that over there.

Tim: oh that’s just my Batman shrine.

Jason: Ah.

Tim: Anyway! This is the kennel for all four of my stuffed dogs, my bookshelf for my conspiracy wall-

[s-lycopersicum]

[stemiwithme]

samira mohan the best patient advocate in that emergency department hands down. the way she takes care of joyce st. clair never ever fails to give me goosebumps. when she steps back and screams at everybody to stop and the whole department stands still and then she immediately gets down to business, confirming that joyce has sickle cell and ordering the appropriate treatment. and when whitaker seems doubtful of the validity of joyce’s condition samira educates him concisely and directly without being unkind, but still with the full intensity and seriousness that that conversation deserves. and while still being respectful towards addicts!!! and then there’s the case with the influencer suffering from mercury poisoning that samira refuses to ship off to psych because her patient is telling her something is off and she trusts her patient. and the fact that she’s actively researching racial disparity in the ER by painstakingly reviewing patient charts from the last 5 years!!!!! THAT’S dedication and passion!!!! people call her slow-mo and she’s made her peace with that bc she knows it’s for the right reasons, bc she refuses to cut corners or overlook things or ignore her gut. bc she cares deeply for every single one of her patients, no matter how they treat her (see: the morphine addicted dad visiting from new york for his daughter’s wedding). like she really is that girl!!!!! she really is!!!! samira mohan i LOVE YOU and you’re the BEST RESIDENT DOCTOR EVER and i would TRUST YOU with MY LIFE

[lilacgaby]

katsuki bakugo was a private, not secret, type of guy.

though it came as a surprise to many, he never hid that he had a girlfriend. he just chose not to speak of you, unless prompted, which resulted in whoever asked about you being surprised at how he seemed to forgo his hard exterior when speaking of you.

you were his lock screen photo, in fact every wallpaper included you in it. couple photos of you two together and candid ones he'd take of you randomly. a polaroid picture of you with a small 'i love you!' written by you with sharpie on the white frame sat nicely in the clear case of his phone.

you were in the heart-shaped locket he'd keep on him at all times in the pockets of his outfits. he'd developed a habit of running his finger along the groves of the chain, opening it and raising it out just enough for him to see the photo, then safely putting it away.

your initials were in the laces of his shoes, your first letter next to his. the back of his favorite pair had an embroidered heart with your initials encased in a heart.

he was a private man. that's why his fans were so shocked when he had dropped two bombs on them all at once.

first, with a simple post of your hand in his, manicured with the colors of his hero outfit, with a noticeably large diamond adorning your finger.

but when he had let it slip that you two were expecting a baby in a t.v interview, nobody expected that he'd stay relaxed instead of being annoyed.

and not even you knew that instead of face- palming at his slip up, cursing or walking off set, that he'd proudly show the ultrasound. the one he'd cut up in a perfect small heart so it could fit into the other slot of the locket he adored so much.

how he decided to wear his heart out on his sleeve, just for you.

tags: @k0z3me @darhinadadragon @maddietries @exoticrasin @lavendarstarz @hisonlyobsession @i-the-fluffo @uy242c @cookielovesbook-akie @frosted-flakes @irenne-stans

[eosoco]

some Fount of Knowledge crash out

[chimerafiles]

[nebyoolah]

just finished the owl house for the first time. can you guess who my favs are

[cuppajj]

BAAU Sugarposting from the magma!

Happening later in the timeline, the stress of saving her kingdom weighs too heavily on Princess to bear. Thankfully, someone is there to take it all away, with plans of her own…

[okjii]

the biggest draw of andreil to me will forever be that they’re just Unstoppable Force mets Immovable Object incarnate in which they actually DO affect each other while simultaneously keeping the core parts of themselves and i just cant think of anything better