it is not merely a question of whether or not we have learned to analyze in particular kinds of ways, or whether people are able to intellectualize about a variety of experiences. It is also about coming to believe in the possibility of a variety of experiences, a variety of ways of understanding the world, a variety of frameworks of operation, without imposing consciously or unconsciously a notion of norm - Elsa Barkley Brown
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I’m a firm believer that if you got yourself the “sickly kid cures their multiple sicknesses away with steroids or technology or something trope” that it shouldn’t be “fully cured” but instead should be “insanely nerfed” cause not only is it less of a slap in the face for the character to adjust to their new life but also cause if find it funnier since yeah, technology isn’t always perfect and it’s not going to cure them 100% cause otherwise they would be too overpowered.
anyways I said all of that bc I wanted to share this:
AHHH WHAT A LOSER
(his mother still loves him tho)
original post under cut
(God bless google for helping me find it)
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if an astronaut got stranded in space far from their ship or any solar system but was able to find peace before running out of oxygen because they could see more stars enveloping them and reminding them that they are not alone in the universe than they could ever see from earth's night sky would that be fucked up or what
waking up in the middle of the night and reading this while half asleep made me feel like that astronaut. I Will Cry goddamn you
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On Saturday I went down to the pub to see six nations.
Going to get a blanche on tap I ran into my Ukrainian housemate, by complete surprise, working there. Last I heard she was had a job at a chocolaterie.
When I finally got home our kitchen/living area was full of us, chopping things, washing, eating and she burst out “my manager thinks you’re sexy!!”
Imagine Nintendog question marks above my head.
We all laughed. Apparently this old Belgian man saw us talking and went to her, asking about me, how we knew each other, for my number. She told me he is skinny like a drug addict, and refused to offer me to him. “I did good right?”
She did.
Being retroactively Watched and spoken of without being present gives me this eerie feeling.
an awareness of multiple perspectives. The invention of this man I had no idea even existed was so sudden. he spawned in place, with desires and addiction and years which have aged him like any human.
The pub was full and loud, and everyone’s eyes were fixed on their own individual subject. I was looking at her she at me him at us. Everyone was watching tv.
One moment fractured into a thousand, a million, individual moments. Every moment at once.
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Short Story Tournament
KALEIDOSCOPE by Ray Bradbury (1949) (link) - tw: death, existential dread
When life is over it is like a flicker of bright film, an instant on the screen, all of its prejudices and passions condensed and illumined for an instant on space, and before you could cry out. There was a happy day, there a bad one, there an evil face, there a good one, the film burned to a cinder, the screen was dark.
THERE WILL COME SOFT RAINS by Ray Bradbury (1950) (link) - tw: death
Eight-one, tick-tock, eight-one o'clock, off to school, off to work, run, run, eight-one! But no doors slammed, no carpets took the soft tread of rubber heels. It was raining outside. The weather box on the front door sang quietly: "Rain, rain, go away; umbrellas, raincoats for today. .." And the rain tapped on the empty house, echoing.
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You’re Losing Me is, like All Too Well, difficult to enjoy on a level that doesn’t include the metatextual but also. On a non-metatextual level I want to listen to it 600 times because it scratches the itch of “breakup songs that make me think about the mirror of them and help me write fic.”
I want to crack the bridge of You’re Losing Me open like a walnut and then make a little house inside the scooped out shell of it like. Fuck OFF what a good mean beautiful achy disaster of a pop song.
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Wednesday Words
A Dash of Magic
An ordinary night. An ordinary hill. An ordinary girl. Her ordinary dog.
An ordinary breeze hushes through ordinary leaves.
An ordinary planet spins fast enough to hold together, but its ordinary rotation cannot be felt.
The ivory light from an ordinary moon over an ordinary horizon, glittering silver fire from ordinary stars. Ordinary galaxies wheel overhead. In that blackness lies an ordinary vastness, an ordinary void, containing ordinary gravitational masses that bend light.
Ordinary fingers curl to scratch a canine ear, marvel at ordinary silken fur.
Ordinary brown eyes half-close in pleasure.
There is nothing ordinary about any of this.
I have a Wednesday night writing group. We do prompts, and drabbles, and it's a good time. Everyone comes out with something so different! They're short snippets - the drabbles are only supposed to be 100 words (eventually I got there!), a warm-up for the later prompt. I've decided to post my favourites, because why not? This is one of my favourites.
PS yes I know it is not Wednesday anywhere right now, I have dropped the ball on this for a couple weeks, so enjoy the Friday edition! I will go schedule a couple more Wednesdays now...
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Unsurprisingly, Jasper can pronounce "worcestershire sauce". Beatrice, Lia, and Marcus can also say it, but they horribly mispronounce it on purpose to irritate Jasper.
Jasper: "You imbeciles know how to say it. Please just say it correctly."
Beatrice: "War chester sire sauce?"
Lia: "Worsister sauce??"
Marcus: "Warshsistershire sauce???"
Jasper: -internal British rage-
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im giggling and kicking my feet at this thing i wrote semi-long time ago about gouenji and my alien oc talking about human hair and its alien equivalent as they gently caress each other's head and face
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