#and then one to annotate

[ritz-writes]

i havent read book omens yet, but im still not over learning that the first time we are introduced to crowleys eyes is during the shop fire. the most vulnerable moment in the entire novel.

i am unwell about this information.

[1pcii]

the real reason Luffy likes zoro so much is because he is built like a bug

^^^here's a scientific (preformed studies myself) diagram to explain how.

[fisheito]

CLOACA CREW RERUN

[ahappydnp]

omg I just did the interactive space adventure for the first time (sacrificed myself for lion :3) and do you know if anyone else was making use of yt annotations in this way?? or was phil the first one?? because that was insane

one of the things that made phil one of the most famous youtubers in the early days was that truly NO ONE was doing it like him. he was basically the only youtuber making choose your own interactive adventures or just being that creative with a unique style in general? phil invented sooo many challenges and new video ideas and ways of doing things (that he hardly ever got credit for)

[windienine]

everyone has to be a little less mean to themselves about not reading enough books. letting go of reading as a pride thing is the first step to relearning how to actually enjoy reading for pleasure again. it's totally fine to start with a novella or with a comic or with a field guide or with literature meant for someone younger instead of being mad at yourself for not grokking ulysses in a week. just vary your diet and you'll be good.

i'm a literature scholar, i'm the one who has to be strict with myself about page counts and citations. you all? do what you want, just read and have fun.

[terrorgirls]

Dubai Trio + "Hell is Other People"

"I couldn't leave you here, gloating over my defeat....only you two remain to give a thought to me....It's you who matter; you who hate me. If you'll have faith in me I'm saved!" – No Exit, Jean-Paul Sartre

[part one] [part two]

[saydesole]

Book Bouquet

I would cry If someone gifted me with one knowing I'm a book junkie

[a-ramblinrose]

“Truth! Freedom! Justice! And a hard-boiled egg!” ― Terry Pratchett, Night Watch

[toastingpencils37]

Thinking about the fact that as Transformers One progressed, especially once it hit the part where it was revealed that Sentinel was a traitor and that the miners were born with cogs, Elita's and D's personalities kind of swapped.

At first D-16 was fairly supportive or Orion, and Elita-1 was not whatsoever. Both felt like Orion was a fool, but while D would somewhat tolerate what they both viewed as Orion's bullshit, Elita absolutely would not.

But as the story of the movie begins to pick up, and D-16 gets dropped with Orion into Sublevel 50, and Elita-1 unvoluntarily joins them on their quest to find the Matrix, there begin to be subtle changes. In Sublevel 50, D-16 shows some resentment for Orion's actions, but like previous times, then is fine with Orion after things start to look up again. And when Elita joins, though at first she is pissed, we start to see her soften up a bit, particularly once they hit the surface of Iacon.

And once they reach the resting place of the Primes and finally reveal the truth, the switch becomes more obvious. D-16 expresses rage regarding Sentinel Prime towards Orion, blowing up on him, even partially blaming him for them finding out about Sentinel's betrayal and their cogs being stolen. But Elita-1 does the opposite, expressing admiration for Orion's previous bullshit (having had gotten them to the cave in the first place), and even sides with him, more willing to do whatever "out of protocol" move he may make to correct Sentinel's wrongs, and even more so complements his moves with her own, sort of like D did.

And by the end of the movie, their places have fully swapped, with Elita standing by Orion, now Optimus, while D-16, now Megatron, is against them (for political reasons), unlike how it used to be D-16 standing with Orion, while Elita is against them (for job position and protocol reasons).

Also, to summarize in a different way, D-16 loses his love for Orion, which he previously held, while Elita-1 gains her love for Orion, which she previously held none. (Whether or not you interpret both or either relationship as romantic or platonic)

[the-judicial-assistants-notebook]

not enough discussion about the gavins' complicated relationship with feminine-coded/beauty products, i don't think.

[dvchvnde]

excerpt; hitchhiker au | Simon Riley x Reader gore. graphic descriptions of decomposition. implied noncon.

“You’re not real,” she whimpers, words a rough scrape out of her raw, torn throat. “You can't be real.”

He doesn't answer tonight. Silent in his appraisal, his hatred; the bloodlust rolls off of him in waves, a suffocating deluge that tangles in her chest. Heart pulsing at the base of her throat, clogging her airways. She can't breathe. Can't move. Can only watch as the man cocks his head slowly to the side in a mutated parody of consideration. Confusion. Taking her in as he stands in her doorway, massive body filling the frame in an outline of black, making him more shadow than man. An apparition that haunts her at devil's hour. Always.

The moon's glow casts a line through the open window. A pale meridian between them. 

Childishly, she thinks of hiding under her blanket. Bad things can't touch you under the covers. Curling into a ball with her eyes squeezed shut, fingers plugging her ears. Wishing for her mother. Howling for her dad. Waiting until morning when the thing haunting her finally leaves.

But he doesn't. Not tonight. 

And she knows if she tries to hide, he'll just crawl into the bed next to her—

“Fix your bumper yet?” He asks, measured in his mockery. The weight of his words makes her stomach churn. Nausea a cold, familiar comfort that tethers itself to her ribcage. “Better get that fixed before someone comes askin’ questions, pet. Clean the blood off it, too. Caused quite the nasty spill.”

His directive makes her want to curl into a ball. “I–I didn't mean to, I didn't—”

“What'd you tell everyone? Hit a deer? Left ‘im in the bushes to die? And now he's got maggots crawlin’ all around ‘is ‘ead. Eatin’ his brains clean outta ‘is skull—”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up—you’re not real! You're not real—”

The man—Simon Riley, her mind supplies bitterly, brokenly; tinged full of regret and sorrow and hatred—lashes out in an instant, moves like water, like shadows on the wall, the too bright flicker of a moving car, until he's in her face, looming over her. A massive, unclimbable wall. And she hates it. Hates when he's this close to her. Close enough to smell the stench of rotten blood that dries on his chest, the side of his head. A brown stain that sinks into the too-large frame of his chest. 

He smells of death. Sickening. Tainted with a noisome sweetness that glues in her nostrils, leaks down her throat. She can taste him there, right on her tongue. Him. Simon Riley. 

Missing, the newspapers say. But only she knows the truth. Stowed away in a facsimile of a grave by the swamps, left to rot. Here, in her bedroom. Waiting for her whenever she tries for a modicum of sleep. A veteran. A drifter. Homeless, they write, and he barked out an ugly laugh as he read over your shoulder, but said nothing else as you scrolled. Tense. Shivering in your seat, waiting for the day the police show up and arrest you. You did a terrible thing. A horrible thing. Pay for what you've done—

His hand reaches out, fingers wrapping around the delicate arch of her throat. The width spans the entirety of it until the bone china, the vulnerable slope, is clenched tight in his slick, slippery palm. Moss, she knows; it grows over his hands and feet now. The earth reclaiming the body she threw into the swamp—

“Not real?” He mocks, wrenching her closer by her throat. Pulse thudding like the wings of a hummingbird against his thumb. “Oh, pet. M’very real—”

He leans in, too, until his horrid face is lit by the sliver of pale blue moonlight. Scraps of tissue slough off of his head, skin purpling beneath the balaclava that peels off in patches. Animals, he'd told her idly, like talking about his body being eaten away by creatures was piecemeal. The jaundiced bone of his cheek pokes out from raspberry skin. It shifts when he speaks, and draws her eye to the devastation of his mouth. Jawbone visible; muscle blackened, clinging by a strip of thin tissue to his lower mandible. His teeth gleam in the light. Yellow and crooked. The rest of his face is covered under the blood soaked fabric of his mask. A small mercy, she thinks.

But the worst is his eyes. 

Once black, midnight grey, is now filmed over. Milky. And the other—

Something moves in the cherryred chasm. A long, thin black line slinks out of the gaping hole. Another. Another. From the rotten socket, a large spider emerges, crawling over the craggy pieces of his broken nose, making his decomposing body her home. 

She whimpers as the bile surges up, swallowing it down when the blue skin of his mouth peel back in a horrifying grin—

Something white falls from the corner of his eye, rolling down the slick, damp skin of his oily face in a mockery of a teardrop, the image glueing to the bone deep remorse that coils like a noose around her neck. Tighter, tighter. 

His tongue lulls out. Cold, slimy, when it flickers over the trembling ridge of her jaw. Fingers digging into her skin, stealing the warmth from her flesh. The air from her lungs. 

He'll have her like this, she knows. Always does when he gets in these moods—the kind that makes him touch her more, sink boney fingers beneath the hem of her pants, and cooing in her ear about how much he wants to eat her alive. Buzzing with some strange, electric energy. She can't run. Can't scream. 

Going to the police isn't an option when she buried a body under loose rocks and sticks. Hit and run. Vehicular manslaughter. Life over in a blink—

No. No—

She just has to wait, she thinks, her eyes slipping shut as his rancid breath curdled over the tears on her cheeks. Wait until his body rots all the way. 

Until he's nothing but bones—

Only then will this ghost finally leave her alone. 

[theheartmold]

I'm interested in your thoughts on Illario as the First Talon. Do you think he'd hate the position at first or he'd slot right into it as a natural? Do you think he wants the position just because Lucanis is going to have it or he actually wants it because he thinks he'd be good at it? Always interested in thoughts on him from people who also love him as a character! Especially since Wigmaker gave us so much of him, but so little too.

Illario and Lucanis are both presented to us in the Wigmaker Job as very capable assassins for very different reasons; Illario is charming, cunning, and diplomatic, meaning that he can talk his way in and out of most every situation and has an innate understanding of the politics of a situation, particularly of the Crows. Lucanis is quick on his feet, adaptive, and the more talented fighter, meaning that when it comes to an actual killing, he's going to get the job done.

I don't think Illario would be bad at the role of First Talon--in fact, I agree with the general consensus that he would be good at it, maybe even excel. I think his own evaluation of his own capabilities are accurate and that he has the drive and edge to lead the Crows as an assassin's guild. I don't think he's motivated solely by the fact that Lucanis is going to have it.

It's less about Lucanis 'having' the role of First Talon and more so about the fact that it's being GIVEN to him. It's not really about Lucanis at all in that sense, it's about the oversight from Caterina. It is obvious to everyone that Lucanis is the favorite pick for the role, including Lucanis, and Lucanis doesn't want it. But he won't tell Caterina that, and even if he doesn't say it, he does show it--and Caterina ignores it. A lack of willingness to consider Illario from either of them is what really pushes some of that ambition; when no one considers you, YOU must consider you.

I don't think he'd hate the position; I think he'd do well! I think he would hate what he would have to do to GET the position. We see that in Veilguard; to get what he thinks he wants he has to abandon what he has, and it nearly kills him. Lucanis and Illario and Caterina are all that the other has; Illario grieves that Lucanis didn't die and was tortured, Lucanis can't bring himself to kill Illario only maybe imprison him, and Caterina absolves the responsibility of deciding his fate onto Lucanis.

It would be a lonely outcome for Illario but I do think he meant it in the Wigmaker Job when he tells Lucanis that if he were First Talon, he wouldn't have to do "this" anymore; the Crows, the politicking. Maybe Lucanis would be free to do that whole freedom-fighter hero thing he's always trying to emulate. But they're both under Caterina's thumb, and until she's gone, we won't know.

[helenofblackthorns]

thinking about the burning of Fairchild Manor and how Luke says all the bodies were near the front door... the implication they were trying to escape when they burned.... also the detail of Jocelyn's father only being recognisable by his dagger that melted into his bones from the heat & "Valentine's" being recognisable by the circle amulet that Jocelyn later revealed to Luke she took & sold to buy her ticket. because it didn't burn. she knew it was planted there when she took it, that's how she knew Valentine wasn't actually dead. adding to that, we also know Jocelyn survived in New York by selling off her jewellery, meaning it also wasn't in the manor when burned (nor was the JC box) and that she was keeping it somewhere else.... what are the chances there was baby things for Jonathan also stashed away in case she had to make a run for it that she had to leave behind in Idris :(

[vesperalities]

The whole library is for Virginia Woolf and me.

[drieddpetals]

do y'all ever think about the fact that Wylan literally bet Kaz money that Jan wouldn't care if he died, and then went, "Pay up, Kaz." after Jan blew up the ship?? i love him so much he's such a smartass.

also i think about Wylan saying "Maybe you can pray to Ghezen for understanding, Father," when Jan was confused about the whole Kuwei situation about fifteen times a day. it's genuinely one of my favorite Wylan quotes like yes get his ass‼️‼️

[chulippi]