street knowledge

but elphaba thropp adoting every single child she sees

let me reliterate

Elphaba and Glinda Thropp-Upland, on the run, prices on their heads, ru into street children. Elphaba cannot resist their cute faces. she adopts all of them.

So it becomes common knowledge among street kids that if you’re in trouble? go find the wicked witch. she will take you in. and not only will she take you in, she will love and cherish and adore you and take time just for you even with all the other kids.

And Elphabas got kids running to her after being kicked out of their houses for being queer or believe in Animal rights or anything and she has to be restrained from showing u to those kid’s houses and murdering their parents.

And yeah, the Wizard figures out and he sends some kid to go get her and invetibly the kid ends up loving Elphie and Glinda and it ends in a tearful confession of how they dont wanna go back and they like it here and can they please stay?? And Elphaba hugs them and thanks them for telling her and destroys the child’s connection to the Wizard.

and when dorothy gail storms elphabas home to kill the wicked witch, she is met with a hundred angry little kids who are yelling “dont you touch mommy!” and the older ones are guarding the door and ELphaba is screaming “NONONO YOURE GOING TO GET HURT!!!”

one of the children is hurt real bad by dorothy and Elphaba screams and the force of it richochets Dorothy back and Elphaba grabs the child and cradles his head and fixes his cut on his head and he hugs her and she hugs back and sends him off with one of the older chidren and then she turn to dorothy and shes like “it was a problem before. but you mess with me? ok. you mess with my wife? not too okay. But you just messed with my children.” 

in conclusion: mom elphaba

Stay Golden

Stay golden,
Behold the smoldering
Drenched in ammonia,
A hint of toxicity,
Like water to electricity,
The catalyst, the most iron classicist
Luke hot bag of shit.

Stay golden,
Behold the most beautiful,
most fruitful,
Truth in full,
You should know!!

Stay golden,
Behold the Oedipus Rex,
Gentle gendered
Purest of sex,
The most erect
Homo sapien,
What a fair face
You could not forget,
Oedipus regret

Stay golden
Behold the simple minded
Sniveling monstrosity,
The shit and the fan
times terminal velocity,
Through the looking glass

Lies the apostasy,

Who might the apostle be,

Tattered wings of ebony

Rugged horns of ivory 

Pitch black eyes to see,

El Diablo,

The fiery

Stay golden

- F.Y.E
How The MBTI Types Know What Others Think or Feel or WTF Going On With Them

[ Maternal Instinct/Paternal Instinct/Sisterly/Brotherly Instinct ]
No one can truly fathom this metaphysical power they possess. So omniscient and ambiguous. Like the Force. And the power of love. Or some stupid shit people make up. For some absolute reason, they just KNOW. Might even know you more than you know yourself. Probably even watching over you from a distance, regardless if physical or not, (supposedly via Facebook stalking or Twitter) like a guardian angel or like family. Family that bakes you sugar puffs and heals your booboos while secretly applying reverse psychology against you so you’ll unconciously tell them what’s wrong without you being aware of it. You can’t simply fool them for nothing escapes them, they will know sooner or later, ‘cause that’s love, bruh. Not necessarily have to be your mom but applies to a friend acting like a mom. Perhaps, the team mom/dad/babysitter. They are the ones people approach to vent out and seek solace, love and comfort. To give a healing space to the emotionally damaged and be harsh when the situation calls for it, probably to stop you from doing anything stupid. Might even be the reason you haven’t got yourself killed yet. They don’t need a superpower (despite my exaggeration of calling it a metaphysical power), to know whats in your heart because they trust you’ll always tell them. And you always trust you can rely on them to protect your deepest darkest secrets until the end of time.

[ Sherlock-Scan ] -
With their powers of deduction and clear observation, these types get terrifyingly good at reading people by noticing minor details not immediately obvious to others. From the state of one’s clothes to the subtlest of verbal cues and body language - they can apprehend the motivations, state of mind and even the life story of their subject. Sometimes, to people they just met. They’ve sharpened this ability through sheer experience and hard work, enough to impress anyone. An archive of random information in their head allows them to interconnect completely unrelated things in order to give accurate predictions on behaviors. Its as if they’ve been hardwired to scan people around them and understand them. However, these types may give less regard to “feelings”, because really, who gives a shit? Emotions can interfere with introspection and rational reasoning, which could throw off necessary data. Feelings? ‘Ain’t got time for that.’ ( Okay, maybe like 5 minutes but thats it. ) This could make others view them as skeptical assholes but out of all the types, they make the best bullshit detectors. They sense bullshit from a mile way.

[ Empaths ]
Whether its a science fiction power or not, empaths know how to get into people’s heads. Like psychic mind reading, its a creepy and eccentric ability possessed by specific people, either developed or in-borne. These empaths synchronize with the mental or emotional state and energies of others, sometimes unconconsciously and consciously. Weirdly enough, even with fictional characters. Courtesy of their ability to put themselves in other’s shoes and due to their their inquisitive nature to be curious about people - empaths have this heightened intuition, often acting like a telepathic radar, which allows him/her to read into a person’s situation and get on the same wavelength and frequency. Being great and inviting listeners, they sense the words behind words, and can even sense hint of sadness in one’s eyes. By accessing relatable past experiences and their own knowledge pool, empaths get a good grasp on how another person perceive things and mirror it. If you’re one. Its about to feel what they feel. To tap into their past, comprehend their desires and motivations, then simulate in your mind what the experience is like. Sometimes, even mistaking the emotions of others as your own and turning into a sobbing mess, if one doesn’t learn how to filter and gauge the unneeded negativity. Whatever empath you are, either cognitive or emotional, you have a way with connecting to people. This mystical intuition is both a gift and a curse. Otherwise you’re just an asshat who loves to mindfuck people and act like a nosy bastard.

These types get hunches but instead of believing them like the idiots above who rely on ‘feelings’ and educated guesses, they actually research to validate and confirm the acquired data yourself. For field research is their preferred area. They question. They interrogate. They investigate. Do background checks. Get skeptical. They connect the dots and do their research for the sake of unraveling the truth. Thanks to their cleverness, whether its street smarts or knowledge acquired from past experiences, they know their way around every crack and crevice in this world. All the patterns and how certain situations plays out. Thats not even mentioning their vast network of connections. They know people. And if they don’t know people, they’ll seek them out. There is a need for clarity and direct confrontation to every mystery, that is, the person they want to know more about. A certain thirst for the truth, to know things themselves and get to the bottom of it. If these people feel like being badass, its shoot first, questions later. If not, ‘cause shooting people is actually illegal, there’s always the internet to know whats behind a person’s actions and words (I’m looking at you, INTP.) In the end, they will always sniff out the truth. Did also mention they’re pretty persuasive?

Despite falling under one of these categories, it doesn’t mean you can’t be the others too. With enough practice and creepy obssession with psychoanalyzing people, you’re on your way.

River Phoenix Is Not Just The Boy Next Door By Karen Schoemer.

In “My Own Private Idaho,” River Phoenix plays the boy next door, except that next door is a ghetto where street youths sleep on the sidewalk. As Mike Waters, a narcoleptic teen-age hustler, Mr. Phoenix’s closest approximation to home is a ransacked, burned-out hotel; his surrogate family is a rickety support system of street friends. His knowledge of his real home consists of dim memories of his mother, a house whose color he can’t remember, and a brother who lives somewhere in Idaho.

In the film, which was shown at the New York Film Festival and opens today in New York and nationally Oct. 18, Mr. Phoenix wears no makeup, and there’s a even pimple or two on his cheek. His clothes are seedy, and his dirty-brown hair continually disheveled. In other words, he strips Mike of none of his grime in a performance that earned him the best-actor prize at this month’s Venice Film Festival.

“He’s put his lips as close to any street-gutter ooze as you can,” Mr. Phoenix says of his character. “His cut-open flesh is as close to a stone brick wall as anything. He’s part of the street. He’s like a rat.”

Mr. Phoenix’s performance as Mike, along with his role as an aggressive marine in the current film “Dogfight,” represents a marked departure for an actor who has epitomized the more conventional version of the boy next door.

In the 1986 film “Stand by Me” he was a tough but tender small-town teen-ager who goes on an adventure with three pals; in “The Mosquito Coast” (1986) he played the earnest son of an idealistic inventor. His portrayal of a brainy, sensitive piano student breaking free of his family in the 1989 film “Running on Empty” won him an Academy Award nomination. Even playing the young Indiana Jones in a big-budget action film like “Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade” that same year, Mr. Phoenix had the chance to grapple with the differences between right and wrong.

Roles like these have made the 21-year-old Mr. Phoenix one of the most respected and popular young actors in Hollywood. The list of directors he has worked with includes Sidney Lumet, Peter Weir, Rob Reiner, Steven Spielberg and Lawrence Kasdan; among his co-stars have been William Hurt, Harrison Ford, Christine Lahti, Kevin Kline and Sidney Poitier.

“River is the archetype of the young male lead,” says Gus Van Sant, the director of “My Own Private Idaho.” “He had a slot that he was in, and that he’s actually growing out of. But at the time in Hollywood, everyone with a project that had an 18-year-old blond-haired, blue-eyed kid would always say, ‘We’re thinking of River Phoenix in this part.’

In another sense, “My Own Private Idaho” is simply an extreme, desanitized version of themes that have cropped up repeatedly in Mr. Phoenix’s films. “Running on Empty,” “The Mosquito Coast,” “Little Nikita” and even “Stand by Me” addressed the meaning of family relationships and, in particular, the attempt to create a normal family situation under abnormal circumstances. These problems are the primary motivation for Mike Waters, who eventually embarks upon a twisted, circular journey in search of his mother.

Sitting in a Japanese restaurant in the SoHo section of Manhattan recently, Mr. Phoenix at first dismisses these connections. “I don’t ever think of a project in reference to what I’ve done in the past,” he says. “It’s isolated for me. I can’t think of it like that, because it becomes more of a format strategy. Any script is its own little time frame.”

He stops short, momentarily diverted by a conversation between a man and a woman at the table next to him. “ They’re talking about family,” he adds, looking at the man. “He’s talking about how this woman should leave the family and not be supported by her family, and get a job and not be like her older sister who’s always coming back to the house for refuge. It’s just a universal thing.”

Keep reading

Damian Wayne/ Robin X Reader- As You Wish

I really tried to add fluff to this!! I really hope it’s enough.

You hissed in pain as you peeled your uniform off the wound you received during patrol.  It was a stab wound from one of Two-Face’s goons, but that didn’t mean it was painless.  Removing the blade was easy, but stitching yourself up was the problem.  Alfred would have had stitched you up by now if you returned to the manor, but you couldn’t go back there.  You were sick of the nonstop mental abuse from your partner, Robin, and tonight was the last straw.  You were patient and kept your mouth shut whenever he opened his mouth, but he took it too far.  Once your top was removed, you placed gauze on the stab wound and grabbed the needle and surgical thread you kept in your apartment.  As you were stitching yourself, you replayed what had happened a few hours earlier and wondered why he was always such an ass to you.  It wasn’t like it was your fault you got stabbed, you actually saved Robin from getting a knife to the heart, but you guessed that he didn’t appreciate you shoving him away from death.

Keep reading

Watch Me

I for one support the headcanon where Tim has to work his ass off to become as fit and athletic as the other Robins. None of this “oh he was a star gymnast in school” or “oh he was a natural athlete” crap. No.

I want Dick and Bruce having serious doubts about whether Tim really has the stamina for vigilante work. I want Bruce sitting him down and saying “son, I admire your resolve, and your detective skills make you more than qualified for this… but I just don’t know if you’ll make the cut.” And Tim simply looks at him and says watch me.

I want the months of gruelling physical training to really mean something. Because everyone had to go through them. Dick had to learn how to channel his acrobatic prowess into fighting. Jason had to learn how to use his street knowledge to save others and not just himself. Even Damian eventually had to unlearn everything the League had taught him and replace it with non-lethal combat.

But Tim. Tim had to start from scratch.

I want Bruce reassuring him that it’s okay to start with small weights. Tim only getting up to five chest presses and feeling like a failure as Bruce finishes his tenth rep. Tim gasping for breath, sweat dripping down his face as he pushes himself for five more minutes on the treadmill. Tim sitting alone in the batcave, crying as his muscles burn from yesterday’s workout… but dragging himself back to the gym anyways. Tim getting up at 4am after only three hours of sleep so that he can practice and perfect his bōjutsu technique.

I want Bruce, Dick and Alfred seeing the determination in Tim and rallying behind him because of it. Dick making the time to come all the way over from Bludhaven so he can teach Tim stretches to increase flexibility, and work with him on the balance beam, rings and flips. Bruce training him in between school hours and patrol with weights and batarangs and martial arts. Alfred sending him off with homemade protein shakes and giving him massage therapy and encouragement when needed.

And I want Tim Drake, riding on all this support, gritting his teeth and getting down to business because he knows. He knows that the voices in his head telling him to just give up, that he’s worthless and a nobody, that he will never make it as Robin, that he’s stupid for even getting involved in the first place… Tim knows that they are lying. He knows that he damn well deserves to be Robin. That he is good enough, that he has fought for this and earned it with his own blood, sweat and tears.

I want Tim looking back on his time as Robin, seeing how far he has come and smiling, because it was all worth it in the end. And even if he doubts himself constantly, even if other people underestimate him and laugh at him, even when he feels like he’s at the end of his rope and there’s no way he can make it… Tim simply takes a deep breath and whispers quietly to himself:

“Watch me.”