#eliot salt

[pierpointco]

HM: In the unlikely event of a crash landing, you'll all be safer in the back.

[partiallypearl]

Some things need to be thought through.

[weepingwonderlandharmony]

𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐞: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐱 𝐒𝐚𝐠𝐚 (𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟏)

[sapphiccharacterstournament]

Canon Sapphic Characters Tournament Round One (Bracket 8)

[nosensedit]

⊹ ִ࣪ এ credits on twitter ִ࣪ ⌁ like or reblog if you save! ♡ ¸. • *

[camyfilms]

NORMAL PEOPLE 2020

I think I’m just a fundamentally cold, unfeeling person. I feel absolutely fine.

[deepinthelight]

Actresses of Fate: The Winx Saga

[yardsards]

i would like to post a playlist on this fine aro awareness day

it was compiled from a mix of my own music and submissions from my friends and followers. the criteria to get on the playlist is:

-no mention of romance

-has lyrics (that are primarily in english)

-fandom-related songs are allowed but ONLY if they are fully understandable with no knowledge of the source material

-joke songs are *allowed* but kept to a bit of a minimum bc otherwise they'd both overtake the playlist

-^similar deal w multiple songs by the same artist

-"love songs" that are confirmed to actually be platonic/familial by the creator are allowed and encouraged

-songs about giving up on/denying romance will NOT be added because that counts as mentioning romance. UNLESS the artist themself is out as aro

song suggestions in the replies are encouraged BUT check the lyrics first bc a lot of people miss stuff and end up submitting songs w romantic verses. (also, submit individual songs, not artists). and if they fit the above criteria and i personally like them, i will add them (this may take a while if i get a ton of recs tho)

[suddenrundown]

eliot being the first one to walk back on screen after they all walk away from hardison

[geeky-nightphilosopher]

Can we all appreciate the things Eliot will do for his team.

Like walk around an open field.

Singing in the van.

Allow them to poke him.

Not get the right salt.

Sound like him.

Eliot is a real gem and I wish I had a man like him.

[starrierknight]

sniffle sniffle

[theartofangirling]

part 2 of the 2023 version of this post: young adult books!

part 1: middle grade books | part 3: adult books

this is a very incomplete list, as these are only books I've read and enjoyed. not all books are going to be for all readers, so I'd recommend looking up synopses and content warnings. feel free to message me with any questions about specific representation!

list of books under the cut ⬇️

aces wild by amanda dewitt

the chandler legacies by abdi nazemian

bruised by tanya boteju

juliet takes a breath by gabby rivera

picture us in the light by kelly loy gilbert

when we were magic by sarah gailey

iron widow by xiran jay zhao

the rise of kyoshi by f.c. yee

jane unlimited by kristin cashore

summer of salt by katrina leno

the wicker king by k. ancrum

the dead and the dark by courtney gould

wilder girls by rory power

i kissed shara wheeler by casey mcquiston

her royal highness by rachel hawkins

tell me how you really feel by aminah mae safi

the weight of the stars by k. ancrum

you should see me in a crown by leah johnson

last night at the telegraph club by malinda lo

the grief keeper by alexandra villasante

crier's war by nina varela

how to excavate a heart by jake maia arlow

imogen, obviously by becky albertalli

in other lands by sarah rees brennan

carry on by rainbow rowell

cemetery boys by aiden thomas

felix ever after by kacen callendar

i wish you all the best by mason deaver

little thieves by margaret owen

technically you started it by lana wood johnson

the gentleman's guide to vice and virtue by mackenzi lee

the infinite noise by lauren shippen

bonds of brass by emily skrutskie

the darkness outside us by eliot schrefer

simon vs. the homo sapiens agenda by becky albertalli

what if it's us by becky albertalli and adam silvera

aristotle and dante discover the secrets of the universe by benjamin alire sáenz

like a love story by abdi nazemian

different for boys by patrick ness

history is all you left me by adam silvera

twelfth grade night by molly horton booth, stephanie kate strohm, and jamie green

across a field of starlight by blue delliquanti

heartstopper by alice oseman

check, please! by ngozi ukazu

bloom by kevin panetta and savanna ganucheau

laura dean keeps breaking up with me by mariko tamaki and rosemary valero-o'connell

the princess and the grilled cheese sandwich by deya muniz

if you'll have me by eunnie

on a sunbeam by tillie walden

the girl from the sea by molly knox ostertag

always human by ari north

rust in the root by justina ireland

dread nation by justina ireland

pet by awkwaeke emezi

the darkest part of the forest by holly black

elatsoe by darcie little badger

i was born for this by alice oseman

loveless by alice oseman

i hate everyone but you by gaby dunn and allison raskin

you know me well by nina lacour and david levithan

the black flamingo by dean atta

spinning by tillie walden

dreadnought by april daniels

a lesson in vengeance by victoria lee

all the bad apples by moira fowley-doyle

clap when you land by elizabeth acevedo

summer bird blue by akemi dawn bowman

the miseducation of cameron post by emily m. danforth

we are okay by nina lacour

radio silence by alice oseman

we used to be friends by amy spalding

a neon darkness by lauren shippen

i hope you get this message by farah naz rishi

are you listening? by tillie walden

alone in space by tillie walden

all out edited by saundra mitchell

out now edited by saundra mitchell

out there edited by saundra mitchell

[partiallypearl]

I just think we should take a moment to appreciate this. All of us working together, despite what Rosalind's up to. The Winx suite, a team. Even Stella, who'll deny she's enjoying being part of the group, enjoying being part of the group. I just want us all to remember that, no matter how bad things get out there, in here, things are good.

[philipkindreddickhead]

100 Fiction Books to Read Before You Die

The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri

The Book of Margery Kempe by Margery Kempe

The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison

A Small Place by Jamaica Kincaid

The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley

We Need to Talk About Kevin by Lionel Shriver

The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie by Muriel Sparks

The Girl by Meridel Le Sueur

The Kitchen God's Wife by Amy Tan

The Secret History by Donna Tartt

The Color Purple by Alice Walker

The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver

Veronica by Mary Gaitskill

Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Alias Grace by Margaret Atwood

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte

The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath

Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf

Kindred by Octavia Butler

Middlemarch by George Eliot

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee

Uncle Tom's Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe

Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston

Passing by Nella Larson

The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. Le Guin

Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh

Death Comes for the Archbishop by Willa Cather

Play it as it Lays by Joan Didion

The House of Spirits by Isabel Allende

Wuthering Heights Emily Bronte

Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

White Teeth by Zadie Smith

The Power by Naomi Alderman

The Street by Ann Petry

The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton

Mary Barton by Elizabeth Gaskill

An American Marriage by Tayari Jones

Small Island by Andrea Levy

The Idiot by Elif Batuman

The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton

The Price of Salt/Carol by Patricia Highsmith

Room by Emma Donoghue

The Sea, The Sea by Iris Murdoch

Garden of Earthly Delights by Joyce Carol Oates

Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys

Wise Blood by Flannery O Conner

Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn

Picnic at Hanging Rock by Joan Lindsey

Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier

Salt to the Sea by Ruta Sepetys

Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand

The Awakening by Kate Chopin

Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe by Fannie Flagg

The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros

The Well of Loneliness by Radclyffe Hall

House of Incest by Anaïs Nin

The Mandarins by Simone de Beauvoir

The Lottery by Shirley Jackson

A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara

Corregidora by Gayl Jones

Whose Names are Unknown by Sanora Babb

Half of a Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood

See Now Then by Jamaica Kincaid

The Lowland by Jhumpa Lahiri

Beloved by Toni Morrison

The Joy Luck Club by Amy Tan

The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt

Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver

The Ministry of Utmost Happiness by Arundhati Roy

To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf

My Antonia by Willa Cather

Democracy by Joan Didion

Black Water by Joyce Carol Oates

The Violent Bear it Away by Flannery O Connor

Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn

My Cousin Rachel by Daphne du Maurier

The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand

I Must Betray You be Ruta Sepetys

The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson

The Mare by Mary Gaitskill

City of Beasts by Isabel Allende

Fledgling by Octavia Butler

A Wizard of Earthsea by Ursula Le Guin

The First Bad Man by Miranda July

Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen

Moses, Man of the Mountain by Zora Neale Hurston

Disobedience by Naomi Alderman

Quicksand by Nella Larsen

The Narrows by Ann Petry

The Blood of Others by Simone de Beauvoir

Under the Sea by Rachel Carson

Go Set a Watchman by Harper Lee

Under the Net by Iris Murdoch

The Birdcatcher by Gayl Jones

Desert of the Heart by Jane Rule

In the Time of the Butterflies by Julia Alvarez

The Memory Police by Yōko Ogawa

@gaydalf @kishipurrun @unsentimentaltranslator @algolagniaa @stariduks @hippodamoi

[hedgiwithapen]

Power Rangers/Leverage crossover

It was an odd not-quite vacation. A trashed town wasn’t high on their list of dream destinations, but it’s where they ended up. Angel Grove didn’t seem to have a whole lot of groves, but it did have a lot of collapsed buildings and torn up streets. 

“I said I was sorry about the boat,” Hardison explained for the seventh time. “I told you, I get seasick.”

“Look, just… stay put while I find us a car to rent?” Eliot asked, already regretting it. Leaving Hardison and Parker unsupervised is risky enough when they’re on the clock, but when they aren’t?

“You got it,” Hardison said, looking around. “Though damn. Might take a while.”

“Oh nooo,” Parker pointed to a demolished building. “There were donuts….”

“Excuse me,” Eliot asked a man dragging a smaller bit of rubble out of the road. “ Mind telling me and my friends what happened here?”

He got a baffling answer, more or less confirmed by the next three people. Giant robots opening a pit to the center of the earth, or something. 

By now, whatever gas leak caused the explosion and hallucinations must have been shut off, because he couldn’t smell it on the salt air.  Or at least, he assumed so until he got back to the picnic table where he'd left his people. 

Parker had a massive chunk of gold in  front of her.

"Hey, Eliot. Look what I found."

"Parker," Eliot closed his eyes and took a breath. 

"No, no, she really did find it. Over there," Hardison waved a hand at more rubble. 

"Oh, I'm sure you did. Let me see that--Oh."

A blob of green glass--no, crystal, too large and flawed to be an emerald-- was set into the melted gold. 

"Shit," Eliot said. 

"What?" Parker asked, hugging her prize closer. "Is it cursed?"

"Parker, there's no such thing as curses," Hardison said, glancing at Eliot." ...Right?"

"No," Eliot said. "But it's trouble. C'mon."

"Where are we going?"

"To steal a giant robot."

[jomiddlemarch]

Each be other’s comfort kind

In some ways, Jem found being married to Mary née Vance was the easiest thing in the world.

To begin with, if he ever referred to her as Mary née Vance, she cuffed him lightly on the shoulder before she rolled her eyes and then drew him back down for a kiss. 

He’d learned the only place to refer to her as Mary née Vance was their bed.

Which he must refer to simply as their bed, not their marriage-bed or anything of a similar high-falutin’ tone which she would accept from his mother and tolerate from Rilla and would otherwise laugh at almost merrily.

As someone not much given to flights of fancy well before the War had made him watch his friends and fellow soldiers gassed and killed, his brother gone without the chance of a farewell, his mind and body scarred in ways he knew as a physician would never fully heal, he found Mary’s unmitigated pragmatism as refreshing as water in the desert.

It also put his father at ease, as Dad said Mary reminded him not a little of his own mother, though Mary was notably less concerned with the vast quantity of pie the Doctors Blythe could consume of an evening, and her piecrust was arguably the equal of Susan Baker’s, though they’d all agreed not to utter such heresy at Ingleside.

In the privacy of their non-marriage, most ordinary bed, with its soft white linens and goose-feather pillows, Jem was free to tell Mary her pastry was actually better than Susan’s, as she had a lighter hand and her piecrust never once reflected any sense of consternation or outrage over some doings in Glen St. Mary, which could not be said of Susan’s best tarts.

Mary was practical and matter of fact. She had a good head for accounts and was far more intelligent that he, any of the Blythes or Merediths (with the exception of Carl) had ever given her credit for. It was easy to discuss the running of his practice and the economic advantages posed by a move to one of the larger towns, the intellectual stimulation offered by hospital work.

Mary did not worry about leaving Mrs. Marshall Elliott behind and she did listen when Jem spoke of his mother’s broken heart with oblique allusions to Walter’s death and more direct remarks about Shirley’s move to Montreal. Even more, she was willing to allow his mother precedence in ways Faith Meredith would never have countenanced. 

(Who knew what Faith would truly have countenanced? She’d eloped with Bertie Shakespeare Drew shortly after their mutual return from England and had immediately bobbed the golden-brown hair Walter had once referred to as her crowning glory in a sonnet Jem was never meant to see.)

Mary was patient and funny, an impossibly good mimic. She had a seemingly infinite supply of riddles and could curse a blue streak with the fishermen down in the harbor, who respected Young Doctor Blythe all the more for his sharp-tongued wife.

She complained very little, never as much as she ought about what mattered most, and only to the degree she would amuse him about things that didn’t matter at all. 

She was never troubled by his nightmares, by being woken by Jem clutching her tightly, his tears falling onto her neck, salt on his lips when he kissed her.

Mary liked to be read to of an evening, but not poetry. She liked Dickens, which didn’t surprise him, and Eliot, which did. She liked mysteries the best, pulp, which made him chuckle, and Lupin instead of Holmes, but she didn’t press him on nights when anything French was the door opened to memories he couldn’t bear.

She was warm, save for her cold feet. She’d tuck them against his shins and it wasn’t like anything else in the whole world.

She was reliable, steady, quick to take his side. Quick to see his side, even before he did. 

She was pretty and she didn’t count it worth much, without any of the vanity of any of the Blythe women.

She was eminently, exceptionally lovable—except that she was difficult to love.

She shrugged off praise.

She didn’t care for ornaments or nosegays, perfume or sweets or what Rilla called a stunning new cloche just the exact color of blackberry fool. 

She looked after him and their home so well, there was little left for him to do.

He was at a loss, one she was aware of and found entertaining, when Rilla remarked one day how much Rosemary Meredith’s new cat reminded her of Mary.

Then he knew.

Mary liked to have a cup of tea made just so, with plenty of milk.

She liked to end the day sitting with her stocking feet tucked up under her.

She liked to have her hair stroked, even if his hand trembled, which stopped much sooner when he was paying all his attention to the silkiness of her fair hair and the delicate skin at her temple, her throat.

She liked to sleep early on cold winter nights.

And sometimes, when they were together in the shadows, she liked to be called Puss. She liked it exceedingly well.