#and I like getting books in original if I know the language

[beyourselfchulanmaria]

[...] The work I make with books is rarely illustrative of the text. This a deliberate choice. For almost everyone the text in a book is regarded as sacred. For me, to have an illustrative approach to each specific book would be to accept the false divisions that are made between form and content. So the new meanings that I try to write across the books are usually more oblique. Many are so oblique that the viewer might never know of any connection to or from a book. This would be so in the two dimensional pieces where fragments of images found in books are isolated and abstracted from their original contexts.

The English philosopher, John Austin described language as a net which we use to try to catch our experiences of the world. Much is caught and much is missed and it's the stuff that escapes that interests me. I suspect far more is missed than caught and more often than not the stuff that is missed, because it cannot be made sensible with words, is overlooked. Information, like intelligence, is expressed and encoded in a multitude of different ways, we sometimes neglect those expressions of intelligence that are unable to be translated directly or indirectly into language. Assimilating more and more information does not lead to a more profound view of the world. Information (especially now) is as much a pollutant as the colossal amounts of plastic floating in the South Pacific Gyre. The concept of ignorance becomes more interesting in this context; do we now live in world where we have to know what not to know before we know it?

One of the things that used to bother me was the apparent contradiction of practicing an activity I didn't know the meaning of. I still don't.

Beyond the broad idea that art is a very subtle form of communication and perhaps also a form of inquiry, I am still none the wiser.

In order to get the work made an artist will use any and every form of conceptual scaffolding. For me that kind of support is only temporary (and perhaps it’s here where lies are of some use) the scaffolding must be taken down once the work is finished. Structurally it may have no correspondence at all to the conceptual integrity of the finished piece.

-Jonathan Callan-

Jonathan Callan Joan Bennett 1932, 2006 Magazine erasure 12 x 9 1/2 inches

Jonathan Callan Relative to, 2004 paper and ink

[peachofu]

݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ missin’ you 2.3k

pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader

contains: 18+ smut, explicit language, dirty talk, f and m masturbation, fingering, swearing, brief scent kink, brief mention of pain, multiple orgasms, made with origins!logan in mind, set in late 1970s.

the days were stretching longer as each passed, tedious tasks that distracted you from the distance no longer keeping you occupied.

it had been around three weeks since logan had departed for a mission. he claimed that it was something he had to do, and you didn’t interfere due to his adamance. he stood firmly on getting a job done, no matter the risks, which only made it so much harder for you.

logan hadn’t disclosed the details to you, despite you being the only person he trusts. he was always aloof when you questioned him about his missions, dismissing the conversation with a grumble or quickly switching to another topic.

so you gave up on asking, letting him do what he was so headstrong on doing, regardless of the ache in your heart as you watched him leave. not knowing when or if he was going to return.

-

another restless night approached after a day filled with unwontedly familiar longing. you had slipped into an evening routine, one that brought you an ounce of peace through the distress. it kept you tranquil for a while, focusing on repetitive things like making dinner or engrossing yourself in a book before bed.

you slipped beneath the chill sheets, the lack of a brawny frame to warm you up once again sending a soft huff of dismay from your lips. the bedroom was silent, as it had been for the past few weeks yet you still hadn’t adjusted to it. you refused to.

“god,” you muttered, cupping your face and sighing heavily.

the absence of contact from logan was getting more worrying by the day, and as much as you tried to avoid it, the uncertainty was eating away at you. his missions had never lasted this long, possibly a couple days at most.

constantly feeling on edge led to things worsening, like waking up in the night with nightmares just like logan did. he wouldn’t want that for you. so you stayed optimistic, dismissing the cluster of dreadful thoughts that wavered in your mind.

you reached over the bedside table, fingertips grazing over the pull chain before a ringing sound reverberated around the bedroom. your gaze fixed onto the phone, eyes skeptically surveying over the keypad for a few seconds.

you were taught to always pick up the phone, incase of emergency, but it was almost midnight and you certainly weren’t in the mood for an urgency. but due to the consistent ringing, you reluctantly reached down to pick up the handset, settling it between your ear and shoulder.

“hello?” the words left your lips in a exhausted whisper, voice strained and almost impertinent. but that couldn’t be helped, you had only one thing weighing on your mind, another was unnecessary.

your words were met with ragged breaths from the other end, a sound that you instantaneously recognised.

“logan? is…is that you?” you stammered, eyes wide as you sat up, completely immersed in expecting a reply.

before he replied, the breathing paused for a beat, tension rising rapidly as you began to yearn for a response.

“yeah, darlin’. it’s me,” he finally answered, his voice still retaining its usual huskiness that always put you at ease.

you let out a gentle, breathy exhale of pure relief, a smile spreading over your face. your features twitched indecisively for a few seconds, the overwhelming feeling of consolation consuming you whole.

“i’m—sorry i didn’t call,” he murmured, breaking the momentary silence between you, “things got outta hand. didn’t want you worrying ‘bout me.”

his voice was deep, carrying that standard resonance which you had pined for everyday. to hear his voice after what felt like an eternity filled you with warmth. even with this brief occurrence, despite not being able to see him, touch him, it was enough.

“well you failed at that,” you retorted in a whisper, eyebrows slightly raised as you leaned back against the pillow.

logan let out a low, almost inaudible chuckle in response. the pert tone in your voice never failed to amuse him, especially now. he was well aware of what you were referring to, guilt beginning to creep up into his conscience.

the mission had been rough, sending an array of conflicted emotions his way throughout the process. being away from you for such an unbearable amount of time filled him with anguish, dealing with those emotions didn’t alleviate that.

“yeah, guess i did,” he muttered, a tinge of regret lingering in his tone, “i’m sorry, darlin’. wasn’t fair to leave you in the dark like that.”

another pause filled the line, thick with every left unspoken between the two of you. he could feel the distance between you as much as he could feel the roughness of his own scars. but the sound of your voice was something he had coveted more than he wanted to admit.

“i miss ya,” he said finally, the words a simple gesture of affection but they carried emotion that he rarely revealed to you, “more than anything. you know that?”

your heart swelled with an unmistakable hankering for him, one that you had never experienced before. you wanted no more than to be in his arms again, for him to whisper sweet nothings into your ear as you embraced each other.

“mhm,” you hummed, finger absentmindedly twisting around the phone cord as his voice echoed through your head.

then came another pause, but the mood had shifted, a distinctive tension passing through the line. the momentary penitence that logan had felt was still present, but it wasn’t the prominent thought in his mind.

“never stopped thinkin’ about you,” he spoke again, voice trailing off into a quiet murmur. you both knew where this was heading, but it was unknown territory.

“just ask me what i’m wearing,” you whispered encouragingly, a roguish smile crossing your face.

“what’re you wearing, darlin’?”

the words sent a shiver down your spine, faint puffs of breath leaving your lips as you reached out to peel the silk duvet off your reclined form.

“one of your shirts,” you whispered, fingertips brushing against each button of his flannel.

you had plucked the shirt from the laundry basket earlier today, enveloping yourself in the heady, manly scent. wearing his flannels to bed had become a ritual for comfort, which came to be incredibly fortunate.

“nothing underneath,” you followed on, fingertips running up and down the thin fabric.

logan let out a low growl in rejoinder, his jeans tightening as the image of you wearing nothing but his flannel flooded through his mind. he felt a fleeting note of shame from getting aroused so quickly, but you always had that effect on him, there was no benefit in denying it.

“is that so?” he spoke, his voice dropping an obvious octave.

his free hand snaked down towards his belt, unbuckling it with a deft precision. the soft metallic clink of the prong releasing resounded across the line, the vivid picture of logan freeing his erection from the confines of his boxers sending warmth through your body.

“wish you were here to help me, baby,” he murmured, his voice now a sultry tone.

there was an unequivocal tremble in your breath as his words registered, his sultry tone sending heat directly towards your core. you squeezed your legs together gently, your inner thighs slick with arousal.

“touch yourself for me, baby. give me something to keep me goin’ until i get back,” logan commanded serenely, the underlying hunger in his voice betraying his true intentions.

“okay,” you whispered, obliging to his order almost immediately due to the growing ache between your legs.

your hand glided down the plane of your chest and down your midriff, slowly dipping beneath the hem of logan’s flannel. you adjusted yourself against the mattress, parting your legs slightly and reposing into the pillows.

the handset was still fitted between your head and shoulder, causing your neck to strain scarcely. but you paid no mind to that, gradually working your hand down towards your glistening folds, moist with anticipation.

“god…” you suppressed a moan, your lower lip slipped between your teeth to silence yourself.

“c’mon, don’t hold out on me. i wanna hear all those pretty little moans,” logan whispered, tugging down his jeans and yanking his boxers down slightly.

he freed his pulsing erection, thick veins running along the shaft, stopping at his glossy tip. he grasped the handset firmly in one hand, leaking cock in the other. his calloused palm added a partial bit of extra friction, already causing his ragged breaths to huff heavier.

your fingers finally came into contact with your soaked pussy, a quick gasp escaping your lips at the sudden connection. your eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment, adjusting to the feeling of your fingers working their way over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“f-fuck…logan,” you moaned, beginning to set a rhythmic circling motion around your clit.

the sound of his name elicited from your lips like that was enough to make him come undone. his grip tightened on the handset, his other hand sliding up and down his length at a slow pace. his jaw tensed, pleasure sparking through his lower half as he jerked himself off.

“that’s it, baby…lemme hear ya,” logan cooed, proceeding to work his hand against his length, pre-cum beading at the tip.

his words sent you into a moaning frenzy, your hips bucking up against your fingers as they continued their stimulating assault. your mind was solely focused on imagining logan beside you, picturing that they were his fingers instead of yours.

“fuck,” he groaned, uneven breaths leaving his lips as he picked up the pace, the pleasure building up at a rapid pace. the sound of your moans drove him unruly, his mind painted with how you looked. all sprawled out on the bed, cheeks rosy and fingers slick with your fluids.

the two of you simultaneously pleasured yourselves, the delicious cocktail of moans mixing together. all of the built up longing was being appeased, a temporary distraction from the distance between you both.

“feels s’good,” you uttered, opening your eyes to glance down at your fingers and the arousal that coated them.

you swallowed thickly, gnawing at your bottom lip as you prodded one against your entrance. you brows furrowed at the sensation, jaw slacking as you slowly slipped your finger inside. the intrusion took a few seconds to adapt to, before you decided to add another.

“logan!” you whined, another digit sinking into your tight channel.

logan’s whole body tensed at the sound of your voice switching to a higher pitch, a grunt escaping through his gritted teeth. he fisted his cock quicker, knuckles repeatedly grazing against the coarse hair at his base. his hand was slick with pre-cum, eyebrows upturned in bliss with every pump of his hand.

“that’s right, darlin’. so good for me,” he spoke breathlessly, clearly nearing the edge of release as he struggled to choke out the words.

goosebumps travelled up your body as you began to piston your digits in and out of your hole, the sound of his voice urging you on even further. the lewd sound of your fingers penetrating your tight hole filled the room, so audible that even logan could hear it. he let out a guttural groan in response, using all of his strength to refrain himself from cumming right there and then.

“need you, lo,” you cried, drool wetting your lips as they parted even wider.

“fuck, baby, i’m right here. focus on my voice,” he mandated hoarsely, stifling a guttural moan as he thrusted into his hand, pre-cum dribbling down his knuckles.

“you’re gonna cum for me, aren’t ya? you gonna listen to me?”

arousal dripped onto the under-sheet as you continued your movements, curling your fingers into a beckoning motion. tears pricked at your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure, fingers plunging in and out of your taut hole.

“y-yes…i’m gonna cum,” you babbled, sporadic moans leaving your lips.

logan felt his orgasm approaching, his pace speeding up against his twitching cock, eager for that sweet release. he grunted softly, that familiar tension coiling low in his abdomen. his jaw slacked, his sealed clutch on the handset almost destroying it from how strong it was.

“cum for me, baby. make a mess for me,” he exhorted through a groan, feeding onto his approaching release with the faint sounds of your pussy and the sultry moans escaping your lips.

you relentlessly pumped your fingers into your aching hole, fingers gripping the silk under-sheet beneath you. the handset was still slotted between your head and shoulder, digging into your cheek. but the subtle pain mixed with the intense pleasure only pushed your further, hips jolting upwards as you felt your stomach tightening.

“f-fuck!” you shouted, your climax crashing over you at an intense force. your eyes turned white for a brief second, slipping back into your head as ecstasy rippled over your body in repeated motions.

logan came just a few seconds after you, bucking up into his hand as hot ropes of his seed spurted all over his abdomen, “f-fuckin’ christ…shit,” he rasped, shaky breaths escaping his lips as his motions slowed, milking his cock for all its worth.

your juices coated your fingers, glistening beneath the dim lighting of the bedroom. you slowly pulled them out of your channel, sighing heavily at the sudden emptiness. your chest rose and fell in exasperation, the aftershocks of the orgasm completely stilling you.

logan basked in the silence for a moment, staring down at the gluey mess of cum dribbling down his knuckles and onto his waistline, coating the coarse hair just below his pelvis.

“guess the wait was worth it then, huh?” logan finally spoke, chuckling breathlessly.

[drabbles-mc]

Just Like Old Times

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin & F!Reader

Written for @narcosfandomdiscord Book of Inception: fanwork that provides an origin story for a character that doesn't have one & "He made me who I am" & improvement

Warnings: 18+, language

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: the way that the last week or so has gone really just zapped all the motivation and creativity out of me, so getting this written really fought me every step of the way lmao. but i will say, that thinking about Jake Seresin in high school was fun. giving him a brother was also fun. going three for three on these prompts was challenging and rewarding and fun. and now i want to revisit these two at some point because idk i have issues lmao

You knew from the second that you’d walked into The Hard Deck that night that he didn’t remember you. Part of you didn’t really blame him, high school being such a distant memory for all of you now. Not just in years, but in all the experiences you’d packed into those years as well. From one standpoint you understood it…sort of.

From another standpoint you couldn’t believe that he could look you in the face and not say a word, not have even the tiniest flicker of recognition. He had looked right at you, and moved right on along to the next person. No matter how much things changed, they always stayed the fucking same.

It wasn’t until everyone was sitting out on the beach after the football game that the two of you even had a real conversation. Up until that point everyone had been running circles around each other, and you had much bigger things to worry about than Jake Seresin’s recollections of you, or lack thereof.

You were mid-conversation with Bob and Natasha when you noticed that neither of them were really looking at you anymore. You searched their faces, trying to figure out what it was that they were looking at.

Natasha leaned back, palms sinking into the sand as she said, “Bagman, six o’clock and incoming.”

You rolled your eyes, still not turning around to look at him. “Man knows how to ruin a good day.”

You didn’t have to look back to know how close he was, the tilts of Bob’s and Natasha’s head spelling out that information for you. His footfalls were nearly silent on the sand. Without realizing it, the closer he got, the deeper you pushed your fingertips into the sand like you were searching for something to grip onto.

Suddenly you were cast in Hangman’s shadow as he stood directly behind you. You shut your eyes for a moment, the longest blink ever as you tried hard to bite your tongue.

“Ladies,” he said, and you didn’t have to be looking at him to know exactly what his face looked like. “Bobby.”

Natasha was squinting against the sun but she still pulled a bit of a face. “It’s a good day, Hangman,” she said with just enough warning in her tone. “Let’s keep it that way.”

He chuckled, and you could see from the movement of his shadow that he was holding his hands out. “Every day at Top Gun is a good day, Phoenix. Thought you would’ve known that already.”

You were hoping that it was just going to be a quick thing, an in-passing comment that he made because he simply couldn’t bring himself to walk by your little trio without saying anything. But of course it wasn’t. Somehow the shift went from Natasha making extremely thinly veiled comments to the effect that Jake should hit the goddamn bricks, to him plopping down on the ground right there with you. He wedged himself right there between you and Bob like he had been there the whole time.

It didn’t take very long after that for Natasha to find a reason to leave. And wherever Natasha went, Bob was only ever a few steps behind. That left it with just you and Jake and the ocean that was slowly beginning to calm in front of you. It was a scene that could’ve been a peaceful one if the man sitting next to you had any interest in that.

Legs bent and pulled up towards you, you draped your arms across your knees. You were staring out at the receding waves as you asked, “To what do I owe the pleasure, Seresin?”

You could feel him staring at you and you made a point to not return the gesture. “Where’d you say you were from?”

You shook your head. “I didn’t. Also don’t think you’ve actually asked me a question directly the entire time we’ve been here.” You cast him a glance. “Too busy giving Rooster a hard time.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly at you like he was studying you, but there was still a smirk on his face. The more time you spent around him, the more you wondered if that was just what his face defaulted to these days. He leaned back on his palms, legs stretched out in front of him.

“Wasn’t until I heard Phoenix call you by your last name earlier that I realized—”

“Wow,” you barked out with a laugh, unable to stop yourself. “You’ve been running drills and sitting in class with me for how long and it took until today for you to recognize me? No sense of déjà vu sitting two rows over from me and picking on other kids in class? Nothin’ jogged your memory even a little?”

He leaned back, brows meeting for a moment. “When did you—”

“The first night we all got here!” you said, gesturing emphatically at nothing.

The smirk instantly returned to his face. “I’m that memorable, huh?”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. “Fuck off.”

“What? C’mon, you can’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“No?” he asked, chuckling like he knew better than to believe you. A lot of confidence in your character for someone who only remembered who you were within the last two hours.

“No. Being mad would suggest that I’m somehow surprised that you’re still the way that you are. And I’m definitely…not.” You sighed. “You’re still Jake Seresin. Only difference now is—”

“My rank? The number of confirmed kills I have?” he tried to fill in the blanks, cocky as he’d ever been.

You looked at him. “Only difference is now you’re old enough to know better.” You saw the way he rolled his eyes at you and couldn’t help but to say, “I don't get you, Jake.”

The look on his face let you know that it had been a long time since someone referred to him by just his first name, not his last or his callsign. There was something intimate about it in a way. You wouldn't have given it any thought if he hadn't flinched at it.

He recovered as quickly as he could, that air of nonchalance reappearing around him. “I'm no Mystery Man.” He held his hands out in a brief gesture, like an invitation to scan him over. “What you see is what you get.”

It wasn't untrue. Jake Seresin had never been the type of person who lived a double life. Who he was around you was exactly who he was around everyone else. Maybe when it was just him, when there was no one else in the room looking to him or expecting anything from him, he was a different person. Not that it mattered—the world was never going to know. Reaching as far back as you could in your brain for memories of him, he'd always been some version of the man sitting in the sand next to you. He was just looking a little more refined these days.

You had just been hoping, when you'd seen him again, that maybe he would've changed by now. Nothing would be different if he wasn't different, but it would've been nice if it could be. The longer you looked at him, the more you tried to un-blur all of the memories that you hadn't bothered to tap into in a long time.

“How's your brother these days?” you asked, diverting course just slightly.

The question was immediately met with an eye-roll. “Fine.”

You had to let out a quiet laugh at that. “Yeah? That good, huh?”

He shrugged. “You want the play-by-play or something?” He shook his head, looking out at the ocean instead of at you. “He's fine.”

“You two not get along anymore or something? I thought you were both—”

“I see him on holidays. We text on birthdays. He is off doing…whatever he does.”

You hadn't expected the tension. From what you remembered, the two of them had gotten along well enough. His brother was a few years ahead of both of you, in his senior year of high school when the two of you were freshman. But he'd always been nice, nicer than Jake had been anyway. But they ran in a lot of the same circles, played a lot of the same sports, and they seemed to have a relatively good time doing it. Judging by the way that Jake was avoiding looking in your direction, you were now wondering if you were misremembering it all.

“We're grown-ups now, you know,” you offered up finally. “If you don't want to talk about him you can just say that.”

He flipped it right back on you. “We're grown-ups now, I can answer questions about Tommy if you have them.”

You laughed quietly and shook your head. “I can see that. The answers you've given so far have been so thorough and paint such a clear picture.” It got him to laugh even though you could tell that he didn’t want to give you the satisfaction. After a moment you cleared your throat. “You guys just seemed to get along back then, is all.”

Now he was looking at you again. “Yeah, Tommy got along with everyone back then—still does.”

You hummed in amusement. “Guess that trait isn't a genetic one, then.”

He cracked a small grin as he swatted sand at you. “Funny.” There was a pause, and you were waiting for him to pick something else to talk about, or for him to just get up and leave. Instead, he gave himself a moment and then said, “Tommy graduated with a full ride, but even when he was gone somehow I was still…” he trailed off. “Navy was the first place I wasn't a legacy kid. No footsteps to follow. Just me.”

“Hmm,” you nodded, not sure what you really wanted to say in response to that.

He caught your uncertainty. “What?”

“Nothing, I just…you wanna say that your brother, your family, your whoever was why you were like that back then. Fine, I get that, kind of. But then why,” you curled your fingers into the sand, “are you still up to all the same shit?”

“I'm not—”

“You are.” The laugh you let out was dry. “I'm one of the only people here that you can't lie to about that. I knew you back then, and I know you now, and from what I've seen? Not much has changed.”

The pinch of his brows let you know that what you were saying was getting to him, whether he admitted to it or not. He tried to hide it, and was semi-successful at it—it probably would've fooled someone else. “If it ain't broke—”

You didn't let him get to the end of the sentence. “There's always room for improvement.”

You were used to laughing at your own little one-liners, but Jake laughing at them too was new, especially when they were at his expense. Whatever the two of you were doing in that moment, it was the closest to being friends that you'd ever been. It was still a stretch but it was something.

“I don't know, you stack my resumé up against anyone else's here and I'd say I'm about as improved as it gets.”

“I think the one thing that could definitely still do with some improving is your humility,” you rebutted with a laugh. You geared up to hear some comment about how there was no need to be humble if he could back up everything that he was saying. When he didn’t, you said, “And, if you feel like taking suggestions—”

“You got another one for me?” he joked.

You laughed. “Yeah, of course.” You cleared your throat. “You said it yourself that this is the one place where none of that other stuff matters, like it never happened. So maybe, when you get a chance, you should get around to dropping all the bitterness that goes along with the brotherhood rivalry.” You shrugged, offering a small smile. “Cocky doesn't pair well with the sad, ‘He made me who I am,’ shtick.”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise as he laughed. “You're meaner than I remember.”

“Yeah, that's because you don't remember me,” you said, the lift at the ends of your lips taking the sting out of your words.

The look of surprise didn’t fade from his face, neither did the amusement. “Damn.”

You still had a smile on your face as you stood back up. Brushing the sand off the backs of your legs, you looked at him. It was a strange feeling, caught between remembering how things were back then and knowing how they were now. A lot of things hadn't changed, clearly, but the circumstances certainly had. You wanted more of it to be different, but there was no saying it so plainly.

“You heading back?” you asked, standing completely upright.

He looked up at you from where he was sitting. Shaking his head, he replied, “Not yet.”

You cocked your head to the side, folding your arms over your chest. “Going to sit out here with your thoughts?”

He chuckled and shrugged. “Well, you did give me a lot to think about.”

“Don't think too hard,” you joked as you started to walk away, “otherwise smoke’ll start coming out of your ears.”

“Your concern is touching!” he called after you, laughing as he spoke.

Turning around to face him, you continued walking away. ���Guess I'm just too sentimental for my own good!” you replied, throwing your hands up in apparent exasperation with yourself.

You could still see the grin on his face as you turned back around. Even with your back to him, you still found yourself smiling too. You knew better than to get your hopes up for much, but there was still part of you that was thinking that maybe there was still a chance for things to start changing before all was said and done.

There was still the very large possibility that things would continue to be the same as they ever were. You knew that. But, the same way you'd been wanting things to be different the first night you turned up at The Hard Deck, you still wanted things to be different now. It felt a little more attainable now than it had then. And, if nothing else, at least you knew that this time everything was going to be a bit more memorable.

(divider by @inklore 🩶)

TGM Taglist: @garbinge @proceduralpassion @cositapreciosa @justreblogginfics (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

[just-a-little-hater]

god why is there never a perfect option, I have found two places where I can buy the Nimona comic book (yes only two and one is in a different country because idk screw availability of anything ig) but one is in Czech and shipping costs almost one half of the price of the book and the other place is fucking German Amazon where it is actually in English and I would get free shipping but it costs two times more than the one in Czech Republic and has those disgusting sticker graphics on it

[13reasonstoeatthatcake]

Has anyone read Fourth Wing translated into another language and did you agree with the Violet/Violence nickname translations in said language? Because I'm reading through the Bulgarian version rn and they. Fucking transliterated it??? With a FOOTNOTE??? Explaining what Violence means in English??? Even though it's not a one-time thing but a recurring nickname and the use of Sudden English Word in-text in what's meant to be flirty, charged and tender moments later is fucking jarring??? I am Shaking With Rage.

[fictionadventurer]

imaginary book: “The Ruined Idylls of Calomar”, low fantasy (quite obscure, authorship disputed; philologists suspect the first draft was written in a Celtic or Semitic language in the late 19th or early 20th century.)

The Ruined Idylls of Calomar by A.E. Mann

This haunting work of fantasy claims to be the journals of an unnamed scholar living in exile after the fall of the hidden lands of Calomar. Once a thriving, peaceful, highly civilized culture, its glory was brought low by the pride, greed, and wrath of kings, scholars, explorers and warriors who fought for glory, power, and honor, until its final destruction by a dark, nameless weapon left only a scant handful of survivors to escape and tell the tale. In haunting language, the narrator writes of Calomar's glory and intrigue, its final fall, and his irresistible yet doomed attempts to return to his lost homeland and learn what, if anything, has survived.

[britneyshakespeare]

don carlos by friedrich schiller is the most wild thing i've read all year and i'm only in act 2

[zoueriemandzijnopmars]

How can I have started a book, read the blurb on the back, the title and 30 pages, but only when I’m tracking my progress on the StoryGraph and only finding an English version of the book when searching by isbn I realise that the book is in fact in English and not in Dutch as I’d been convinced?!?!

[protectcosette]

I think trying to tackle the whole book is the struggle. I had a Cosette picture book as a kid that started with her being dropped off and ended with her walking away with Jean valjean in her new clothes and carrying her doll. I loved it so much and then my mum told me it was part of a bigger book so I read all her bits in the book skipping any long descriptions. I was a kid so I only read to the end of her schooling in the convent. And then over the years I would go back and read more about fantine and then Cosette and Marius and then finally Jean valjean bits. And by that time I actually found the sewer descriptions interesting although I still skip the Waterloo lol

oh I've definitely read other chunks of the book! just regarding a literary white whale, reading the brick the full way through is something i DO want to do.

[ronnierosest]

To any slav who’s a fan of The Witcher

Try and enjoy a listen of the polish audiobooks, they’re just So Good (you can follow by reading the book in your native language)

I am having blast 7hours in

[dndspellgifs]

look, I know I've talked about this essay (?) before but like,

If you ever needed a good demonstration of the quote "Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic", have I got an exercise for you.

Somebody made a small article explaining the basics of atomic theory but it's written in Anglish. Anglish is basically a made-up version of English where they remove any elements (words, prefixes, etc) that were originally borrowed from romance languages like french and latin, as well as greek and other foreign loanwords, keeping only those of germanic origin.

What happens is an english which is for the most part intelligible, but since a lot everyday english, and especially the scientific vocabulary, has has heavy latin and greek influence, they have to make up new words from the existing germanic-english vocabulary. For me it kind of reads super viking-ey.

Anyway when you read this article on atomic theory, in Anglish called Uncleftish Beholding, you get this text which kind of reads like a fantasy novel. Like in my mind it feels like it recontextualizes advanced scientific concepts to explain it to a viking audience from ancient times.

Even though you're familiar with the scientific ideas, because it bypasses the normal language we use for these concepts, you get a chance to examine these ideas as if you were a visitor from another civilization - and guess what, it does feel like it's about magic. It has a mythical quality to it, like it feels like a book about magic written during viking times. For me this has the same vibe as reading deep magic lore from a Robert Jordan book.

[astrxealis]

i shut up abt ffxiv for now hii good noon u all take care :3 <333

[queseraphita]

Now it's time to actually read the adventures of pinocchio since I've never truly read it

[neotheater-kid]

I was like, recently years old that I found out Orpheus and Eurydice is Just Book OF LIFe????? Like what?/! That's

[julesnichols]

Y'know. There were several ups and downs when I was working for the mouse, and the downs were always really, really bad. But like also I'm glad for them because four years ago I absolutely would not have said SHIT about being given a shift that conflicts with my availability and just worked it hoping it never happened again. Now I will talk to all four fucking managers who work throughout the entire day I've been here until one of them listens instead of pushing back and getting pissy about me saying it's not my fault and sure, I'll try to find coverage to be nice, but not my fucking problem if I can't find it, can't work the shift, they can't mark me as a no show and they can die mad about it because they should've thought about it before giving me a shift I can't work 🤷