Elphaba Is Only Meant To Leave For A Single Day And Glinda Still Asks How She Will Manage Without Her

outfit memeeee :DDD [soft edition]

send me an outfit and i’ll draw it on a character of my choice <3

So, okay, fun fact. When I was a freshman in high school… let me preface by saying my dad sent me to a private school and, like a bad organ transplant, it didn’t take. I was miserable, the student body hated me, I hated them, it was awful.

Okay, so, freshman year, I’m deep in my “everything sucks and I’m stuck with these assholes” mentality. My English teacher was a notorious hard-ass, let’s call him Mr. Hargrove. He was the guy every student prayed they didn’t get. And, on top of ALL OF THE SHIT I WAS ALREADY DEALING WITH, I had him for English.

One of the laborious assignments he gave us was to keep a daily journal. Daily! Not monthly or weekly. Fucking daily. Handwritten. And we had to turn it in every quarter and he fucking graded us. He graded us on a fucking journal.

All of my classmates wrote shit like what they did that day or whatever. But, I did not. No, sir. I decided to give the ol’ middle finger to the assignment and do my own shit.

So, for my daily journal entries, over the course of an entire year, I wrote a serialized story about a horde of man-eating slugs that invaded a small mining town. It was graphic, it was ridiculous, it was an epic feat of rebellion.

And Mr. Hargrove loved it.

It wasn’t just the journal. Every assignment he gave us, I tried to shit all over it. Every reading assignment, everyone gushed about how good it was, but I always had a negative take. Every writing assignment, people wrote boring prose, but I wrote cheesy limericks or pulp horror stories.

Then, one day, he read one of my essays to the class as an example of good writing. When a fellow student asked who wrote it, he said, “Some pipsqueak.”

And that’s when I had a revelation. He wanted to fight. And since all the other students were trying to kiss his ass, I was his only challenger.

Mr. Hargrove and I went head-to-head on every assignment, every conversation, every fucking thing. And he ate it up. And so did I.

One day, he read us a column from the Washington Post and asked the class what was wrong with it. Everyone chimed in with their dumbass takes, but I was the one who landed on Mr. Hargrove’s complaint: The reporter had BRAZENLY added the suffix “ize” to a verb.

That night I wrote a jokey letter to the reporter calling him out on the offense in which I added “ize” to every single verb. I gave it to Mr. Hargrove, who by then had become a friendly adversary, for a chuckle and he SENT IT TO THE REPORTER.

And, people… The reporter wrote back. And he said I was an exceptional student. Mr. Hargrove and I had a giggle about that because we both knew I was just being an asshole, but he and the reporter acknowledged I had a point.

And that was it. That was the moment. Not THAT EXACT moment, but that year with Mr. Hargrove taught me I had a knack for writing. And that knack was based in saying “fuck you” to authority. (The irony that someone in a position of authority helped me realize that is not lost on me.)

So, I can say without qualification that Mr. Hargrove is the reason I am now a professional writer. Yes, I do it for a living. And most of my stuff takes authorities of one kind or another to task.

Mr. Hargrove showed me my dissent was valid, my rebellion was righteous, and that killer slugs could bring a city to its knees. Someone just needs to write it.

BOOTIFUL I LOVE THEM SM I NEED TO SEND THESE TO SOMEONE EVEN THO IM AROACE OH MY GODS

some tma valentines for The One That You Love

Made in the Image of Bill

Closeups of the quality gets roasted (just like bills family) ->

PROPAGANDA BELOW.

Scottish, obviously. Some people say English, but listen. The English always get the rich, classist, classy, world-ending snobby villain man. As a Scottish person, I ADORE THIS TYPE OF CHARACTER. I enjoy these characters a lot, and obsess over them a lot. Unfortunately, they almost ALWAYS are English. Give us Scots representation in the evil middle management snob/regency watcher siren man….also Jonah’s ginger, of course he’s Scottish.

I feel like most people talk about Jonah Magnus being an Englishman, but his original Institute was in Edinburgh (Scotland) so now I’m curious

Shoutout to that era in the 90s when Dionysus temporality possessed home renovators and grape themed kitchens were a thing.

My future kitchen tbh I had one like this as a kid living on a vineyard.

why is no one talking about the fact that bill canonically played ford sweet dream by the eurythmics

urgghhrh dont you love it when you find the perfect words to describe something

Y’all went coocoo crazy for coco puffs on my last Pryamidscheme post, so who am I to deny the masses my warmup sketches of their old man crackship?

Bonus below

plus a sketch i made last night of how I think Stan and Steve met: