#thought many thoughts

[static-radio-ao3]

sunday snippet !

waited so long that i am back on track hehe thank you @messymoony and @itsjaywalkers for the tags <33 i absolutely devoured your snippets <33

“Okay, well, just because I wear glasses doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself!” “The glasses have nothing to do with this. Sybill wears glasses and none of us think she’s incompetent,” Barty says. “Incompetent? What do you— You guys think I’m incompetent?” “It’s just—” “You freeze, James,” Frank cuts in before Barty says something he shouldn’t. He tries to keep his voice kind but it does nothing to soften the blow of his words. “Don’t you guys ever get a little scared?” James counters, defensive. He moves to cross his arms in front of his chest, but the crossbow he’s holding gets in the way so he ends up awkwardly putting one hand on his hip in a poor approximation of a power pose. Evan quirks an eyebrow at him as if to say, see? “Sure we do,” Dorcas says easily. “We’d all be dead if we didn’t get a little scared now and then. But you get really scared, James.” “And that’s okay! We all have our strengths and weaknesses,” Alice continues. Marlene nods, picking up right where Alice left off. “Your weaknesses just happen to put all of us in danger, too. So we think it’s best if you just play to your strengths.” “Which include, but are not limited to, making dinner and manning the radio,” Lily adds. “We love you, James,” Peter says, clapping a hand on James’ shoulder. “We really do!” Pandora confirms. “But you’re a bit of a liability,” Frank says with a nod and a mildly self-satisfied smile. James eyes all of them warily. “Why did that speech feel so rehearsed?”

no pressure tags: @carniferous @residentrookie @poetskings @lifeisabitch-butimcute @chericheribaby

[twelvemonkeyswere]

not even JRR Tolkien, who famously developed the concept of the Secondary World and firmly believed that no trace of the Real World should be evoked in the fictional world, was able to remove potatoes from his literature. this is a man who developed whole languages and mythologies for his literary world, who justified its existence in English as a translation* simply because he was so miffed he couldn't get away with making the story fully alien to the real world. and not even he, in extremis, was so cruel as to deny his characters the heavenly potato. could not even conceive a universe devoid of the potato. such is its impact. everyone please take a moment to say thank you to South Americans for developing and cultivating one of earth's finest vegetables. the potato IS all that. literally world-changing food. bless.

[demogorgon]

sinners: how real stories of irish and choctaw oppression inform the film

[machine-saint]

look at this wacky thing the google AI results just showed me!

[mimimar]

(open pages for better image quality)

the moment I heard elphaba's delivery of "there's a girl i know..." in i'm not that girl i knew i had to draw this comic, i strongly recommend listening to it while you read for the full experience!

this comic is a companion to this piece (which was inspired by glinda's delivery of the same line in the i'm not that girl reprise).

pages 1-4 are from elphie's pov, pages 5-8 are from glinda's.

prints of individual pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

flower meanings in order of appearance:

[vesperosy]

selkie au counts for mermay.... riiiiight......

[cherryysocks]

can't stop thinking about this movie tbh..

[mintaii]

death of the magician

[mumbito]

me clicking on a video from the silliest man in the world: teehee what wacky hijinks await me

world renown block clown mumbo Fucking jumbo: you ever think about how old technology seems to live forever in the suspended state of whatever the newest advancements were at the time. how most technology immediately and fundamentally tells you when it was important and when it was left in the dust. it’s suspended in its era forever, and in that it is perfect.

stagnation is a form of death but nostalgia is cruel immortality. still i find myself locked in pursuit of it until i finally stumble across the undeath of the mechanical. as my hard earned improvement truly begins to pay dividends, surrounded by my opus of change, i will freeze myself in eternal utopia. the only way to never die is to preemptively kill whoever you might become. i will not have a grave, i will not be ashes and dust. i will be a perfect, extant machine.

me: Ok. i dont think this will plague me at all actually. like video.

[attleboy]

TADC SPOILERS AHEAD!! //

don't forget

[mlm-blues]

“lmao imagine liking men” OK!!! ON IT BOSS 🫡🫡🫡 it’s beautiful here

[dragonroilz]

[crumbpigeon]

flow away

[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.

[thesoftestbloom]

As a trans woman, girls, sometimes y'all need to shut up and listen to trans men. They also face a lot of discrimination in various areas that we don't.

Likewise, trans men, sometimes y'all need to shut up and listen to trans women. We face a lot of discrimination that you don't.

Both need to 100% listen to non-binary and intersex people. The amount of hatred I've seen from trans men and trans women toward enbies and intersex people is staggering. I'm really starting to see what all the jokes about the average tumblr user's reading comprehension are about. Some of y'all cannot see past your own identity and the discrimination you face.

Little secret, cishets don't like *any* of us. All of us should be free to speak on our own experiences of discrimination *without* the other groups dismissing, belittling and patronising us. We are all degenerates in the eyes of society and the only way we survive is by listening to eachother and caring for eachother as a collective.

Nobody else in the trans or intersex community is your enemy. We all have bad apples, but broadly we are all in this together and I really don't see why trans women can't understand that trans men face discrimination and I really don't get why trans men can't do the same.

Why are you tearing into your closest allies like this? Why are you reducing the chances that any of us survive? Accept that sometimes, you aren't the affected party and own up when you make mistakes.

[elucubrare]

there's this horrible school of attempted literary criticism on here that holds that 1. everything in any given author's work is autobiographical, especially if it seems "real" and 2. those themes seeped into the work subconsciously, revealing something about the author that they're either trying to hide or unaware of themself. it drives me up a wall, since it seems to deny the fundamental skills that make people good writers: the empathy to imagine and portray experiences that one hasn't had oneself and the ability to take one's personal emotional experiences or worldview and fold them, consciously, into the unworked clay of a narrative.