#also her teen books

[aardvaark]

im so glad that we never get a clear picture of sophie’s background in leverage & i hope we never do. however i also really like making up various, often conflicting backstories for her in my head. perhaps they’re all backstories for an alias of hers, ones she laid to rest back in season two.

[lunarharp]

uhh another modern au agott follow-up. They've gotten progressively sillier

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

The No-Girlfriend Rule

YA contemporary

a girl who wants to get into d&d to connect with her boyfriend (whose own group has a ‘no girlfriends’ rule)

and joins a group of girls whose game allows her to come out of her shell, and realise she doesn’t need to put in the effort for a boy who doesn’t put any effort into her

while also dealing with her anxiety and a growing crush on one of the girls in her group

[fluffypotatey]

Tell me the “Roman Empire” of all your ships 🎤🎤🎤

Merthur: Arthur giving Merlin his mother’s sigil (like what the fuck, what the FUCK was that bbc???? AND YOU DELETED IT TOO???? AND HOW ITS SUCH A PRIVATE MOMENT BETWEEN THEN SITTING BY THE CAMPFIRE AND HOW BOTH BELIEVE THEH WILL DIE/SACRIFICE THEMSELVES AND—)

Thiam: “I did this to keep you from being taken!” (THEO KARL RAEKEN HOW DARE YOU MESS WITH MY MIND!!!! this jackass….comes back from a dimensional prison, swears to run when given the chance, tells Liam he’s only with him because that self serving for him, THEN MAKES HIMSELF THE BAIT TO SAVE LIAM’S LIFE, THEN SAVES LIAM AGAIN AFTER FIGHTING WHO KNOWS HOW MANY GHOSTRIDERS AND GETS UPSET AT LIAM’S PLAN BECAUSE HE FEELSNIR DIMINISHES HIS EFFORT TO KEEP LIAM ALIVE!!! why did he do that???? it wasn’t self-serving, it only made him more involved in this supernatural drama, and he clearly wants to leave Beacon Hills behind……AND YET—)

Shadowpeach: their peach motif in s4 (bc i swear to ducking god i cannot do this. AND THE FUCKINH ILLUSION OF THE MEMORY THAT POPS IN FROMT OF MACKY IN THE SPECIAL THAT HE REACHES FOR IS WUKONG OFFERING A PEACH. LIKE WHAT FHE FUCK. LMK WHEN I GET YII—)

hangster: the fucking stare they do before Bradley gets on his plane and Jake shouts “Give ‘em hell!” (like wtf 🫠 this movie gave them so many moments where they’re staring at each other and none of it truly plot important. you could argue “they’re rivals tho! it’s to show how much they annoy each other!!” Okay…..you know that can be shown a lot more differently. Everything about them was gay as hell and like they were fuckbuddies but the buddies part started blurring the lines a little bit and led to a dumpster fire of a breakup)

[umbrellacam]

New Teen Titans (Vol. 2) #10 - "He's like something out of a bad romance novel. Man, talk about your cornballs. Who writes his dialogue? Hallmark cards?"

Vic speaking my thoughts on Mr. Wing Man >_> and wow, they're sure having him pull overtime on the lampshading meta snark in this issue:

New Teen Titans (Vol. 2) #10 - "Why will the next Teen Titan hate her parents? Will we have to turn Titans Tower into Titans Hotel? These questions will be answered...in the next sickening segment of--"Daze Of Our Lives!" Same Bat time! Same Bat channel!"

[shebpaw]

Remember when I complained about relative size in WoF? Well I just realized that, at least on the Flames of Hope cover, my assumption about Wren compared to Sky was pretty close. I may made her too small, even.

Why then can she stand on Sky's head in one book (I think it's Dangerous Gift)?

[lessnowon]

anyways, i'm just dropping by to say fuck jk rowling and that snape being romantically in love with lily is really stupid when it would be more narratively and thematically consistent (and, frankly, more compelling) if his love for her was familial

[missmenow]

Honestly, I'm just glad that they're getting the 'you wouldn't court me' scene early into the season (since the dialogue made it sound like this was their first exchange since colin has been away) because that's not the focus, and isn't even the biggest issue they both will have to tackle. For god's sake, pen dragged his sisters' name around, said some dangerous things that might have ruined lives. This is not like the book, where all whistledown does is meanly jab at anyone. And yes, i think it has created some really interesting non-romantic tension in the story--i think they can do some interesting things with it. But i just hope they don't make colin into some doormat so the show can go, 'pen is morally absolved of all actions because he is okay with it!' That's a cop out, and you KNOW IT!!!!

[apricusapollo]

quotes from frankenstein by mary shelley that remind me of theo raeken:

It is even possible that the train of my ideas would never have received the fatal impulse that led to my ruin. 

It was a strong effort of the spirit of good, but it was ineffectual. Destiny was too potent, and her immutable laws had decreed my utter and terrible destruction. 

It is so long before the mind can persuade itself that she whom we saw every day and whose very existence appeared a part of our own can have departed for ever – that the brightness of a beloved eye can have been extinguished and the sound of a voice so familiar and dear to the ear can be hushed, never more to be heard. 

I was required to exchange chimeras of boundless grandeur for realities of little worth.

My attention was fixed upon every object the most insupportable to the delicacy of the human feelings.

The different accidents of life are not so changeable as the feelings of human nature.

But now that I had finished, the beauty of the dream vanished, and breathless horror and disgust filled my heart.  

Dreams that had been my food and pleasant rest for so long a space were now become a hell to me; and the change was so rapid, the overthrow so complete! 

I felt suddenly, and for the first time during many months, calm and serene joy. 

How sincerely you did love me, and endeavour to elevate my mind until it was on a level with your own. A selfish pursuit had cramped and narrowed me, until your gentleness and affection warmed and opened my senses. 

The picture appeared a vast and dim scene of evil, and I foresaw obscurely that I was destined to become the most wretched of human beings!

She also was a girl of merit and possessed qualities which promised to render her life happy; now all was to be obliterated in an ignominious grave, and I the cause!

He threatened and menaced, until I almost began to think that I was the monster that he said I was. 

I had none to support me; all looked on me as a wretched doomed to ignominy and perdition.

Anguish and despair had penetrated into the core of my heart; I bore a hell within me which nothing could extinguish.

Nothing is more painful to the human mind than, after the feelings have been worked up by a quick succession of events, the dead calmness of inaction and certainty which follows and deprives the soul both of hope and fear.

I wandered like an evil spirit, for I had committed deeds of mischief beyond description horrible, and more, much more was yet behind.

Instead of that serenity of conscience which allowed me to look back upon the past with self-satisfaction, and from thence to gather promise of new hopes, I was seized by remorse and the sense of guilt, which hurried me away to a hell of intense tortures such as no language can describe. 

All sound of joy or complacency was torture to me; solitude was my only consolation – deep, dark, deathlike solitude.

Often, I say, I was tempted to plunge into the silent lake, that the waters might close over me and my calamities for ever. 

Remorse extinguished every hope. I had been the author of unalterable evils.

Banish those dark passions. Remember the friends around you, who centre all their hopes in you. 

Thus not the tenderness of friendship, nor the beauty of earth, nor of heaven, could redeem my soul from woe; the very accents of love were ineffectual. I was encompassed by a cloud which no beneficial influence could penetrate.

All men hate the wretched; how, then, must I be hated, who am miserable beyond all living things! 

Have I not suffered enough, that you seek to increase my misery? Life, although it may only be an accumulation of anguish, is dear to me, and I will defend it.

I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel, whom thou drivest from joy for no misdeed. 

I was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend.

Believe me, I was benevolent; my soul glowed with love and humanity; but am I not alone, miserably alone? You, my creator, abhor me; what hope can I gather from your fellow creatures, who owe me nothing? They spurn and hate me.

Shall I not then hate them who abhor me? I will keep no term with my enemies. I am miserable, and they shall share my wretchedness. 

Listen to my tale; when you have heard that, abandon or commiserate me, as you shall judge that I deserve. But hear me.

If such lovely creatures were miserable, it was less strange that I, an imperfect and solitary being, should be wretched. 

Was I, then, a monster, a blot upon the earth, from which all men fled and whom all men disowned?

I learned that there was but one means to overcome the sensation of pain, and that was death – a state which I feared yet did not understand. 

Who was I? What was I? Whence did I come? What was my destination? These questions continually recurred, but I was unable to solve them.

Satan had his companions, fellow devils, to admire and encourage him, but I am solitary and abhorred.

They did not appear rich, but they were contented and happy; their feelings were serene and peaceful, while mine became every day more tumultuous. 

I was alone. I remembered Adam’s supplication to his Creator. But where was mine? He had abandoned me, and in the bitterness of my heart I cursed him. 

I required kindness and sympathy; but I did not believe myself utterly unworthy of it.

I am an unfortunate and deserted creature, I look around and I have no relation or friend upon earth.

Cursed, cursed creator! Why did I live? Why, in that instant, did I not extinguish the spark of existence which you had so wantonly bestowed? 

My feelings are those of rage and revenge

There was none among the myriads of men that existed who would pity or assist me; and should I feel kindness towards my enemies? No; from that moment I declared everlasting war against the species, and more than all, against him who had formed me and sent me forth to this insupportable misery. 

For the first time the feelings of revenge and hatred filled my bosom, and I did not strive to control them, but allowing myself to be borne away by the stream, I bent my mind towards injury and death.

I felt emotions of gentleness and pleasure, that had long appeared dead, revive within me. Half surprised by the novelty of these sensations, I allowed myself to be borne away by them, and forgetting my solitude and deformity, dared to be happy.

The feelings of kindness and gentleness which I had entertained but a few moments before gave place to hellish rage and gnashing of teeth. Inflamed by pain, I vowed eternal hatred and vengeance to all mankind. 

My daily vows rose for revenge – a deep and deadly revenge, such as would alone compensate for the outrages and anguish I had endured.

I too can create desolation; my enemy is not invulnerable; this death will carry despair to him, and a thousand other miseries shall torment and destroy him

I am malicious because I am miserable. Am I noy shunned and hated by all mankind? You, my creator, would tear me to pieces and triumph; remember that, and tell me why I should pity man more than he pities me?

I will revenge my injuries; if I cannot inspire love, I will cause fear. 

I will work at your destruction, nor finish until I desolate your heart, so that you shall curse the hour of your birth. 

You will return and again seek their kindness, and you will meet with their detestation; your evil passions will be renewed. 

I felt then that I should survive the exhibit what I shall soon cease to be – a miserable spectacle of wrecked humanity, pitiable to others and intolerable to myself.

For an instant I dared to shake off my chains and look around me with a free and lofty spirit, but the iron had eaten into my flesh, and I sank again, trembling and hopeless, into my miserable self. 

I had feelings of affection, and they were requited by detestation and scorn. 

I will watch with the wiliness of a snake, that I may sting with its venom.

How mutable are our feelings, and how strange is that clinging love we have of life even in the excess of misery!

Why did I not die? More miserable than man ever was before, why did I not sink into forgetfulness and rest?

Who could be interested in the fate of a murderer but the hangman who would gain his fee?

I was overcome by gloom and misery and often reflected I had better seek death than desire to remain in a world which to me was replete with wretchedness. 

Little happiness remains for us on earth, yet all that I may one day enjoy is centred in you.

Memory brought madness with it,  and when I thought of what had passed, a real insanity possessed me; sometimes I was furious and burnt with rage, sometimes low and despondent. 

They were dead, and I lived.

My life, as it passed thus, was indeed hateful to me.

His soul is as hellish as his form, full of treachery and fiendlike malice.

The only joy that he can now know will be when he composes his shattered spirit to peace and death. Yet he enjoys one comfort, the offspring of solitude and delirium. 

When younger I believed myself destined for great enterprise.

I am chained in an eternal hell.

If you had known me as I once was, you would not recognise me in this state of degradation. 

I have longed for a friend; I have sought one who would sympathise with and love me

The companions of our childhood always possess a certain power over our minds which hardly any later friend can obtain. 

What does it avail that I now ask thee to pardon me? I, who irretrievably destoyed thee by destroying all thou lovedst. 

A frightful selfishness hurried me on, while my heart was poisoned with remorse.

I knew that I was preparing for myself a deadly torture, but I was the slave, not the master, of an impulse which I detested yet could not disobey.

It is well that you come here to whine over the desolation that you have made. You throw a torch into a pile of buildings, and when they are consumed, you sit among the ruins and lament the fall.

It is not pity that you feel; you lament only because the victim of your malignity is withdrawn from your power.

But now that virtue has become to me a shadow, and that happiness and affection are turned into bitter and loathing despair, in what should I seek for sympathy? I am content to suffer alone while my sufferings shall endure.

I was nourished with high thoughts of honour and devotion. But now crime has degraded me beneath the meanest animal.

When I run over the frightful catalogue of my sins, I cannot believe that I am the same creature whose thoughts were once filled with sublime and transcendent visions of the beauty and the majesty of goodness.

The fallen angel becomes a malignant devil. Yet even that enemy of God and man had friends and associates in his desolation; I am alone.

For while I destroyed his hopes, I did not satisfy my own desires.

Am I to be thought the only criminal, when all humankind sinned against me?

I, the miserable and the abandoned, am an abortion, to be spurned at, and kicked, and trampled on.

But it is true that I am a wretch. I have murdered the lovely and the helpless; I have strangled the innocent as they slept and grasped to death his throat who never injured me or any other living thing.

You hate me, but your abhorrence cannot equal that with which I regard myself. 

I shall no longer feel the agonies which now consume me or be the prey of feelings unsatisfied, yet unquenched.

I shall no longer see the sun or stars or feel the winds play on my cheeks. Light, feeling, and sense will pass away; and in this condition must I find my happiness.

Polluted by crimes and torn by the bitterest remorse, where can I find rest but in death?

Blasted as thou wert, my agony was still superior to thine, for the bitter sting of remorse will not cease to rankle in my wounds until death shall close them for ever.

I shall die, and what I now feel be no longer felt. Soon these burning miseries will be extinct. I shall ascend my funeral pile triumphantly and exult in the agony of the torturing flames.

[piosplayhouse]

(This isn't bait, and you don't need to answer it if you don't want to). What's your beef with heartstopper?

The author and I have the same favorite mangaka but they tried to claim her as a "one of the good ones defying all problematic elements (of the gross bl genre of course)" without knowing that . One of the only other scanlated works from same mangaka is a psychological horror incest BL with every trigger warning under the sun

Also I hate white British people but that's on me #listening and learning

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Outdrawn

f/f contemporary romance

two cartoonist who’ve been rivals since uni, and now have competing webcomics online, have to work together on the relaunch of a cult classic at the comic press they both work at

they both struggle with art-related physical and mental health issues, and complicated families

[jennrypan]

I NEED yall to stop playing with me and get a black girl to play Starfire (Not the one from that shitty titans show. Sorry not sorry, wasn't a fan. Love her face but the wardrobe was not it. The hair? No, eyes? No. And she wasn't given Starfire fr. )

Also if we get a teen titans run DONT MAKE IT LIKE THE CARTOON!!!! I loved the character but God. They washed the fuck out of Starfire to HELL. I want her big hair and her og costume. Idc if it's skimpy, you can make it cool and skimpy without giving her a skirt or some shit. Also!! Hi, Raven use to have longer hair and she wasn't just some goth chick stop it.

GIVE DICK HIS BOOTY SHORTS IDC. TEEN TITANS DICK LOOKED TOO MUCH LIKE TIM. Don't pmo--

I'm VERY passionate abt this. Cuz Starfire is soo black coded and we got bitches not seeing the vision cuz they fucking suck "Uhm actually she's orange 🤓" actually your moms a hoe. NEXT.

Tall and built to the gods with A GIANT AFRO??? Fuck you, let her be black coded and paint her skin orange (Yall did for Gamora in GOTG and made her green. Yall can do this) ALSO NO PUPILS. JUST STRAIGHT GREEN EYES, I don't wanna see brown eyes. No. Her eyes are green. Contacts are real and her hair is bright RED, not brown or any other damn color. It's firey.

[glindyupland]

I just think it’s silly that so many people complain about Villain Amaya as “wasted potential” and that “we were robbed” like-

My pals, post canon fan fiction is right there. The desire to free her husband is right there. Either by touching an evil book while being too eager to remember the obsidian oil, or being possessed by contact (ie what she believes is true loves kiss) when trying to reason with him in the dungeon.

We don’t need a rewrite, we can have a continuation. Both can be true. Amaya is a complex character, she can handle it.

[fictionadventurer]

"It looked like a good day for setting fence posts, and my mother said so while taking the biscuits from the oven. 'Some morning early, when I can get away, I want you to come with me along the edge of the hill in the wood-lot," she continued. "When the shadows of the trees begin to come down the slope, as the sun rises you feel the turning of the earth. You feel the whole globe under your feet rolling into the sunlight. . . . That's something I found one morning when I was driving the calves to pasture. I've been saving it up for you. I wonder if you've seen a more beautiful dawn in any of the places you've been.'

On my fingers I count the dawns I have seen--memorable, just in being dawns. Sleepy-eyed dawn from the Paris markets after a night of dancing; mist dawn against which I was just to late to see the minarets of Constantinople--all the fault of the stupid stewardess who didn't wake me in time; one startling moment of color on the hills around the Dead Sea before they went colorless in merciless heat; sudden dawn like a clap of light over the freezing-cold Syrian desert. Four dawns in twenty years. No, I do not know dawns as my mother does."

-- Rose Wilder Lane, "A Place in the Country" (1925)

[beatriceportinari]

i need to look out for more beatrices in media. tell me abt your beatrices