#i vaguely remember this book

[t-lostinworlds]

okay, why is everyone being a bitch to percy in titan's curse. it's low-key pissing me off

[niikaido]

laios: "she probably wanted to eat them with you"

[twinstxrs]

this is such a simple but good bad kids friendship moment to me. fabian being the first one to say hi to gorgug when he shows up in the middle of the investigation, followed by fig. gorgug saying hi but communicating that he doesn’t want to talk & them both not understanding but going “okay.” gorgug saying hi to riz as a form of acknowledgement even though he’s in full blown investigative mode & probably hasn’t realized gorgug is there yet. gorgug feeling comfortable enough to just put on his headphones & unwind while sitting there with his friends. they’ve come so far from freshman year ❤️

[icewindandboringhorror]

Little bright colored outfit with a fun vest ~

(shoes from ebay like 10 years ago. everything else is thrifted)

[clockworkreapers]

fallen back into a few year old hyperfixation cuz i just finished book 4 of tales from the gas station, Jack, Jerry and Rosa sketches, ill probs do the others who dont change AS much visually

[felixravinstills]

Lysistrata Vickers After Jessup's Death + Book Quotes (Ch. 17)

—The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes (2023)

[chelshiart]

In 2011 I drastically reduced my DWJ book intake to dripfeed levels, so it was only in the 2024 new year that I finally decided to read Deep Secret. My god - out of all her books this seems targeted at me personally? Stressed late-20-somethings, making fools of oneself in vicinity of fav authors, artist alleys?? Also, blatant unmistakable LGBT-rep??? I can't believe I slept on this one for so long!!! Definitely putting it on the upper tiers of my DWJ bookshelf.

Anyway, here's some designs I've whipped up for the characters! As always, might tweak 'em if ever I draw more in the future, but that's what's fun about figuring out character designs. Rob in particular is a joy to me.

btw Zinka plsplspls let me table with you

[nakaremfarlei]

Was just thinking about the amount of animals Obi-Wan interacts with compared to literally everyone else and in the Clone Wars episode where Kamino gets attacked he literally gets saved twice by the same ray-like animal and just...

The growth from judging Qui-Gon for the 'pathetic lifeforms' he picks up to whatever he has going on during the Clone Wars era. He must have gotten that from Qui-Gon though, right?

And because it's my brain and it's rotting with all the star wars stuff I am consuming I was thinking of Obi-Wan saving all these creatures and the 212th having to deal with that. Surely they made one of the rooms pet proof in case one of them needs a new home. There also have to be clones who love that because of course Obi-Wan can't really take care of rescues on top of all his duties.

After the first few times this happens Cody learns to order animal food and other necessities. And if the Republic doesn't fulfill these requests or asks too many questions he'll just have to make sure to organize them on planet during the campaigns.

[spookygibberish]

Made a faintly insane list of of every animated movie I have good enough memories of to feel confident ranking, although some of them I would probably move around if I saw them more recently....

[officially-other]

My first attempt at writing that's vaguely like poetry: from a dragon

I am not what you think.

I walk around, awkward limbs and flighty mannerisms, and you think I’m strange. You have no idea how strange you would think I am if you only saw what was underneath.

Underneath, I am a creature of the ocean. Something that could never pass as human, and no longer wants to. Saltwater rushes through my veins in secret, silent to everyone but me. To me, it’s a roaring sound of the waves that I have never seen except for within my soul. It yearns to dissolve into the ocean like it could long ago, but for now those days are over and I am hidden underneath skin and muscle.

Underneath, there are wings; fins; antlers. They ache to tear from my back, through my skull. Nonetheless, they stay hidden for me, safe in the silence. Protected like I protected my kin in a lifetime so close to the surface and yet unreachable. Wrapped in a form that no longer coils around them like a serpent, but keeps them hidden from predators well enough I suppose.

I suppose.

I accept my form reluctantly and do what I can to make it mine. I shape it to feel better when I discover my gender, and when I can’t shape it to fit my true self I cover it in things that feel a little more like home. A little more draconic. A little more like the ocean that I never have seen, but feel homesick for anyway.

I do find joy in being in this body, at least. Out there, there are others. Angels working minimum wage, dragons sitting on a park bench, wolves buying groceries. We hide, but we do so to be free. We walk through crowds, and no one notices our scales and fur and feathers. But we do. We see each other, even if from miles away, and we see what’s underneath.

And underneath, none of us are what you think.

(Tags for side commentary/context)

[gumnut-logic]

John Tracy hated taking public transport.

He hated the cramped seats, the invasion of his personal space, the fact the bus stopped every few minutes to pick up more passengers and the noise.

It was stressful, annoying and far too full of people.

But the astrolabs were too far from the dorm to hike it or bike it, so bus it was.

He mapped out the most direct route, left early to avoid the crowds and handled it the best he could. Earphones helped and he never travelled without his tablet and a network connection.

He made do.

He made do for over a year. Every morning and every night.

The work was fascinating and he thoroughly enjoyed it. He considered getting a car, but it wasn’t practical and parking was non-existent, so he stuck with the bus.

Despite the fact he hated it.

Every trip he buried himself in his own world whether it be his work, research, a good book or even a movie. He shut the world out and more importantly anyone who sat next to him.

Sometimes this was not possible.

Because sometimes they spoke to him.

John had been brought up polite. His grandmother would have slapped his wrist if she found out he was ignoring people. So, he always replied. Often concisely, but always watching his manners.

That often opened the floodgates. Because if there was anything common between big cities it was the people who were lost in them, desperately alone in a sea of faces.

John liked being alone to a certain extent, but he was blessed with a close and large family.

Some people had no one.

So, ever so reluctantly, he found himself answering their call for help.

The first was Mrs Bucklin. She was a tiny woman, well dressed, but slightly scented with mothballs as if her clothes hadn’t been out of the closet in a long time.

She sat right beside him and immediately enquired as to what he was doing.

At the time he was coding a new game and her sharp voice startled him enough for his fingers to slip and enter a chain of commands he had not intended. He would have sworn if he was alone, but the program righted itself and the new commands, instead of corrupting and crashing the function, actually appeared to improve it. He frowned and hastily input some bridging structures so the code wouldn’t fragment, idly wondering if the error would improve the game, ruin it, have him need to rewrite the whole section or be the spark that would initiate sentience.

Great, his tablet would rise up and eat him while he was distracted by a random bus passenger.

She did apologise and he did reassure her that it was all okay in the hope she would let him be.

She didn’t.

He learnt she had three cats, a niece in another country (he didn’t gather which because the woman’s pronunciation defied translation), that she had lost her son in the Global Conflict, she liked his hair (that was a first) and that he looked like an intelligent young man.

He acknowledged her quietly and politely as he eyed his code and the results of an initial compile test. How did it do that?

Her cats were named Scottie, Gordy and Allie.

He did blink at that, but didn’t comment.

Eventually, she said goodbye and got off the bus at her stop.

He would have forgotten about her, except she sat next to him the next day and the day after that.

Apparently, this was her route to work, and he was such a polite young man.

Three weeks later she admitted he made her feel safe just by being there. She had been mugged three times in her life and public transport was as much a bane for her as it was for him.

He actively kept an eye out for her after that.

Gus was a different matter.

Gus didn’t have a home and he often rode the bus just for the air conditioning and comfort.

He sat on the other side of the walkway to John. He didn’t say much and would likely have never said anything if it hadn’t been for the gang of boys who decided to throw verbal potshots at him one day.

John had had an all-nighter with exams coming up, so he was cranky. His latest project had stalled – the same game he had been tackling when Mrs Bucklin had startled him. The core of the program had become a little unpredictable and he couldn’t work out why.

So, when a group of teenagers crawled to the back of the bus and started needling a fellow passenger, it was not only a situation where the innocent man appeared to need a bit of a rescue, but it also pissed John off.

There were four of them. Teenagers flocked in groups apparently. He’d never been one for that formation himself, but he knew of them, had encountered them and Virgil had kicked a few of their asses for him.

John was in college now.

He could kick his own fair share of ass quite happily.

“Leave the man alone, or I will call the police.” He raised his voice, but not his head, transmitting all the body language of how beneath his notice they were and how he might respond if they didn’t comply.

“Mind your own business, kook!”

There was always a brave one amongst the group, usually the ringleader, the head dickhead.

At least they were only teenagers.

This time he did look up and put all that communication theory into the coldest stare possible. “Excuse me?”

All four of them froze. Hell, they couldn’t be older than fifteen, somewhere between Gordy and Alan. If either of his brothers acted like this, there were three older brothers who would quite firmly re-educate them on proper conduct.

Not that he thought either of his younger brothers would do such a thing.

In any case, all four of them stared at him wide-eyed. The eldest swore and climbed out of his seat just as the bus pulled up at the next stop. He snarled at John as he stalked past, spitting profanities. His cohorts followed and they climbed off the bus.

It was lovely and quiet after that and John went back to tackling his misbehaving program.

“Thank you, sir.”

John blinked up at the unkempt man who had been the centre of the teenagers’ torment.

A small smile. “You’re welcome.”

Was this variable being changed by the program itself? How the hell could it do that?

He didn’t fail to notice after that incident that Gus, as he introduced himself the next time they met, always sat near John on his rides, morning or evening.

John met other people. Mrs Magarey and her three young children always needed a hand with her pram. John sometimes took advantage of this and stuck the pram in the footwell of the seat next to him so no-one could sit there.

That made Mrs Bucklin sit behind him and whisper her stories in his ear.

He wasn’t sure if he was comfortable with that either.

Two other students from his faculty took the same bus as well. Ridley was in the year behind him and always had a friend on the phone. She chattered a lot and he learnt to tune her out.

Well, until the day he boarded the bus and found her crying into her tablet.

She had lost her entire thesis in a computer crash. He was polite. He enquired and she answered, staring up at him as if she had never seen him before. Which was entirely possible. John didn’t like to draw attention to himself.

He accompanied her off the bus that day and delved into her damaged computer. He dug up her thesis and she gushed all over him, even crying into his sweater.

He hugged her awkwardly and wished her all the best.

After that, she always said hello and had a smile for him.

John smiled back, but his program was still not behaving. It acted as if it had a mind of its own and it was very distracting.

Mrs Bucklin said it sounded like cat number two, Gordy. Never behaving, but always loveable.

John stared at her when she said that, and wondered if she knew more than she was letting on.

The day Virgil landed in the seat beside him on the way to the labs startled him enough to drop his tablet.

“Hey, Johnny.”

He fumbled between the seats for the device. “Don’t call me Johnny.”

“Sorry.” But he could tell Virgil was anything but.

His fingers touched the cool metal of his tablet and he scrabbled for it. “What are you doing here?”

“Can’t a brother drop in on his brother to see how he is doing?”

John eyed him. If it was Scott sitting next to him or Gordon, he might have been suspicious of any double meaning his brother might be communicating. But this was Virgil and although the engineer had a sense of humour that could cut when necessary, this wasn’t his style.

“I guess he can. But why the bus?”

Virgil shrugged. “Didn’t catch you early enough. Barely caught the bus behind you. I thought your classes didn’t start until later.”

“They don’t.”

“Then why are you up so early?”

It was John’s turn to shrug. “Just avoiding the crowds, I guess.”

Virgil eyed him with a slightly worried frown.

“And who is this lovely young man who has taken my seat?”

Oh god.

Virgil stared up at Mrs Bucklin as she bustled in to sit behind them.

An internal sigh. “Mrs Bucklin, this is my brother Virgil.”

“Your brother?” She eyed Virgil as if inspecting him for sale. “Doesn’t look like you at all. Where’s the red hair?”

Virgil arched a dark eyebrow.

“Nevertheless, Mrs Bucklin, Virgil is my older brother.”

“Then how come we haven’t met before? You’ve been travelling this route for a year now and we haven’t seen hide or hair of him.” She continued to glare at Virgil as if he was a threat.

Virgil was shifting in his seat, his expression decidedly wary.

“Virgil has been assisting my father on a project. He’s an engineer. I’m unsure what he is doing here right now.”

“Hmph, well, in my opinion, he should have been here earlier.” She addressed Virgil directly. “Did you know your sweet little brother has been a bastion of this bus route, defending and assisting all?”

What?

John’s head shot up. “Mrs Bucklin-“

“Don’t you go all humble pie on me, young man. I saw what you did to those teenagers and how you help young Mollie every week. That girl is going to work herself into an early grave. And poor Gus, you’ve given him a new reason to try. Did you know he has enrolled himself in a course? Got himself a grant from the government and everything. Got help from that employment assistance group. Not to mention that doe-eyed young student who stares at you with love hearts floating about her head. I don’t know what you did for her, but I have no doubt she would do anything for you if you asked.” She turned back to Virgil, accusation in her eyes. “Why haven’t you been looking after your brother?”

Virgil’s wide eyes darted between John and the older woman.

John had no idea what to say.

“Well?” Mrs Bucklin’s glare was determined.

“Ah-“

“Is this man harassing you?”

John looked up to see Gus looming over Virgil.

You know, the Virgil who lifted weights that weighed more than his brothers on a daily basis.

John frowned. Gus had a new coat on and was looking much healthier than the last time he paid attention. “No, Gus. This is my older brother Virgil.”

And Virgil was subjected to another staring glare. “Doesn’t look like your brother.”

What?!

“I can assure you that he is indeed my caring older brother and he is not neglecting me in any way.”

Gus grunted, still glaring at Virgil. He nodded in John’s direction. “Make sure he eats more. He’s too skinny.”

That started Mrs Bucklin off again. “My goodness, yes. John you do not eat enough. Have you tried any of those recipes I recommended?”

Gus was still eyeing Virgil.

Virgil appeared to be regretting several recent life choices.

“I’m fine, Mrs Bucklin.” He raised his hands. “And both of you, Virgil is not responsible for my wellbeing.”

His tablet beeped. A glance and he found a text message from Ridley. You okay over there?

He looked up and found her at the other end of the bus staring back at him worriedly.

A sigh.

A flick of his fingers. I’m fine.

He turned back to Virgil who was literally cornered, only for his tablet to chime again.

You free tonight?

Oh, for the love of-

“Guys, Virgil is my big brother. He looks after me. He cares. I’m fine. He’s here for a visit. I don’t know why yet. Stop glaring at him.”

Gus grunted again and wandered off to his seat. He didn’t stop eyeing John’s brother for a second.

Mrs Bucklin let off a slightly miffed sound before leaning back in her seat. “He better. Or I have a mind to bring Scottie with me next time. Or maybe Gordy. To teach him a lesson.”

What the hell?

“No need, Mrs Bucklin. I assure you.”

Virgil was staring at John as if he wasn’t sure what planet he was on.

John sighed.

Yeah, he hated public transport.

It was stressful, annoying and far too full of people.

His tablet pinged again. This time it was the program he was working on. It was claiming it was dawn despite the fact the sun had risen an hour ago. He let out an exasperated hiss.

Virgil was still staring at him.

Damn public transport.

-o-o-o-

[dartalias]

im doing some math to calculate and figure out the exact timeline of Rise of Kyoshi

More especifc Kuruk's time and early Kyoshi's/""Yun's"" era, like what was the order of what sequence of events

Intil now i have that:

the poem to Hei-Ran happend before he met Ummi

considering he died some time before Rangi being born, thats would have mean Ummi probably meet his already in the very end of his life

And for what i remember Nyahitha was wayyy before that

The point until now is:

Ummi probably never met, or met like only once, Kuruk supposed companions

And i BET she and Nyahitha talk shit about them together

[thebeigelunatics]

i don't have the foggiest idea what is happening in this scene. anyone have any thoughts? what i remember from 'london rules,' standish is p much tied to slough house throughout? what's happening to MOTHER?! 😭😭😭

[modern-inheritance]

For a future story

The elf picked at the grass by her knee. If Murtagh knew any better, he’d say she looked almost uncertain. “…They ask about you two, you know. Pretty often.”

“The elves?” Murtagh suppressed a snort. “I’m sure some of them would love to get their hands on us.”

“No.” Arya shook her head. “The Eldunarí.”

[transgendervelma]

I just realized that Alia has the Barons memories which means that she can access the male ancestral memory, which means that Alia is a female Kwisatz Haderach (which aren’t supposed to exist). This was either hand waved away in a line I forgot or simply never addressed because Frank Herbert was such a Straight Man.

[mist-the-wannabe-linguist]

ohhhh how I miss the times of going to the library looking for books with cool-looking fantasy covers only to find the most fucked up lore inside that would leave me consumed by fascination and sometimes nightmares for months only to completely forget the entirety of the plot years later