#not a brilliant start to the year but

[harriertail]

start of year book thoughts

Revolutionary Road - the first half meanders a bit to build up to the ending which was... unexpected? I see why this is used in sixth form college english classes because it Says A Lot About SoSighEtTea but it did just feel like a bunch of chapters loosely linked together, April's sudden Part Three episode really came out of nowhere to me (maybe that's the point, but she had POV chapters and then just didnt at all really). Still I enjoyed it, loved the descriptions and writing style. I liked John.

Wise Blood - finally. Oh my god. Hazel Motes you are Insane. I didnt fully get what he was preaching ("i seek the truth and there is no truth?" There is no sin and no redemption? So hes a nihilist? Or smth?) I think he really is a religious man but can't cope in a world full of fake preachers and conmen and things, thus he does all That. fucking loved Enoch tho. What the fuck? The Sabbath stuff was.... questionable but also makes me think Haze probably has PTSD and no sense of who he is anymore and is trying to be someone else (someone mean and cruel) when hes really just an idiot. But where you come from is gone, where you thought you were going to never was there, and where you are is no good unless you can get away from it!

Djibouti - Leonard's dialogue is definitely modern, to the point, reads like someone is speaking. It's not my kind of reading tbh. I'm also sick of how every female protag i seem to read (by men) always has a mention of her body/how sexy/good looking she is randomly, when its not part of the plot, she can't just... be. DNF.

Go to the Widow-maker - gorgeous gorgeous gorgeous writing, what a beautiful tranquil sea, what beautiful wildlife, what a setting! Didn't care for the characters. A life goal of jacking off in a cave is nawt interesting. Oh everyone's cheating on each other? He's insecure about how he compares to other men? How novel. DNF.

Two Sherpas - maybe it was the translation but this was so... pretentious. It feels like he just wanted to write about Flavius and Marullus instead, and write about two sherpas, and combined them into one. I'm liking the characters and the use of "the old Sherpa" and "the young Sherpa" to differentiate them instead of names as it goes with the book, and ties them more to Flavius and Marullus- and some chapters (especially the historical stuff or the sherpas backgrounds) were incredible- but it felt disjointed. Each chapter was super short as well sometimes just a paragraph and it was very jumpy. I can tell what he was trying to do, but it just didn't work. We get it, the loud thundering of the wind over the side of Everest can hardly be considered silence. DNF

TBR; the spectre of alexander wolf, a special kind of providence, when we were two, the power and the glory

[silkentine]

I’ve been obsessed with the ♠️ Pirate Sabo AU by @otaku553 Their artwork is total inspiration fodder. I DROOL over their line quality, story telling, and how they can implement so much symbolism with the colors alone. (So I wanted to try my hand at drawing him too 😊)

I’ve been wanting to draw Tage for weeks now; his design is just SO solid (have I mentioned I love men with long hair?). Imagine my surprise when I found this in my inbox today:

So obviously it was finally time to draw Tage. Actual squee. Thank you for creating such beautiful comics! I hope you enjoy being mutuals with me ☺️🩵

[lbhslefttiddie]

youve heard of sex flowers get ready for the flower that makes you into a celestial shoujo herione complete with particle effects you cannot turn the fuck off and creates a wifebeam so powerful it can incapacitate and maim and keeps making you burst into tears and fall on your ass which makes the wifebeam More Powerful and you also cannot turn this off either. and is also still, sort of, a sex flower

from one of my favorite fanfictions, Celestial Afterglow by elanor_pam, a fic that defies description in the best possible way

[acecroft]

THE KILLING 1.01

[spielzeugkaiser]

Perhaps some Cherik if you're fond of Xmen?

Or Hua Cheng and Xie Lian from TGCF for that juicy love story?

I feel like a sommelier, but ships instead of wine.

9/12 - Don't come into my house an make me care about Cherik in 2023 😭😭 Seriously this was my first ship ever, this is where I learned to sail!! And at the time I didn't really draw yet, I'm. Excuse me I feel a need and emotions 🥺🥺

[mugwot]

i can do what i want and i want a joyous davepeta pfp happy pride and dont forget to leave the cookies out for your local queers and faggots

a transparent version to put your own flags in, go crazy go stupid, please dont erase my name

[fictionadventurer]

Elizabeth Gaskell has the kind of brilliance that makes you forget how brilliant she is until you come back to her work after reading inferior authors. Her type of talent is understated skill that does everything so well that it looks easy.

She has prose that's descriptive without being flowery. Plots that take their time but also keep pulling you along. She writes about everyday life in a way that makes it enthralling without over-romanticizing it. She can take what would be stock characters in the hands of other writers and explore their upbringing and history so thoroughly that they become real, nuanced individuals. And she does it all so simply that you barely even notice how much talent it takes to write like that.

[immortalbutterflycos]

I JUST FOUND OUT THAT ONE OF MY BEST FRIENDS OF ALL TIME HAS ACTIVELY BEEN READING MARAUDERS FANFICTION FOR A WHILE AND I'M SO EXCITED TO START WRITING THINGS FOR THEM AND THEM ALONE.

[doctorbrown]

MCFLY JULY ‘24 ⸺ 「 24 / 31 * OUT IN THE DESERT 」

January—March 1943

From the moment he’d been visited at the university by Oppenheimer with Groves in tow, the latter a looming, intimidating presence towering over him in his uniform compared to the amicable and even friendly disposition of Oppenheimer, he’d felt the cold bite of the Sword of Damocles pressed against his neck, digging deeper and deeper with each day he’d been left in purgatory, waiting.

He feared he’d lose his head before ever hearing the official outcome of his new employment.

When one of his colleagues had approached him about a week and a half after their departure, informing him that he’d received a call from the FBI asking some questions about him, Emmett’s heart stopped then and there and he was absolutely positive he’d seen the moment his head was severed from his neck, rolling down the hallway.

Twenty long seconds later, when his senses had returned to him, he learned that the sensation was just dizziness and he was still firmly intact.

Three weeks later, the hell had ended. To say his official acceptance onto the project was a weight off his shoulders would be an understatement. Emmett breathed a long sigh of relief, nearly giddy with the excitement that he’d come through the process relatively unscathed; his frayed nerves were the only real casualty of his stint in purgatory.

Why the outcome should have been anything other than this, he couldn’t say, but that didn’t stop his mind, already having latched onto the mystery and thrilling scientific intrigue that Oppenheimer had offered, from conjuring up the what-if possibilities while unseen hands manipulated the course of his life. He’d never been in legal trouble, no criminal record, his father was an incredibly prominent and well-respected, if feared and disliked, member of the community, and his academic achievements had been exceptional.

But now it was official and the part that should have been the most daunting brought him the most joy. Two months was more than enough time to wrap up his affairs in California nicely.

His courses at the university would be discontinued and his students would be disseminated out into the other professors’ courses. The small home he’d been provided here would go back to the university and whatever he deemed unimportant to take with him to New Mexico would be discarded. The head of the department wished him well, and after a brief exchange steeped in rumour and hearsay, he’d left, returning home to pack up the last of his things.

How fascinating that an entire life could be stuffed in a couple travel bags.

—

When Emmett returns to Hill Valley, tugging the last twenty-three years of his life up the pathway to the mansion he hadn’t seen in almost five years, it is his mother’s joyful cries that greet him, her hands that all but pull him through the door, and her voice that fills the living room as she sits down, harmonising with the song of time played by his favourite Grandfather Clock.

Emmett, the doctor. Emmett, the scientist. Emmett, her son, doing his part for his country, whatever that meant, because it was secret, secret, secret—all so very secret all he could say was “I can’t talk about it but I have to travel to get there”—and while she looked ten years younger, radiant with motherly pride, his father scoffed and harrumphed, making his opinion known in no uncertain terms.

You would’ve done better for the war as a soldier, not some damned-fool scientist.

‘But at least maybe you’ll have a chance to be useful. Do something good.’

This time, his father’s barbs do not sting. They strike at him from all angles, jabbing at his skin but never piercing, and he lets them fall to the ground at his feet, unwilling to have this argument again, as they did for so many long nights in his youth. With the prospect of unforetold scientific progress right there at his fingertips, he could find it in himself to forgive his father without a fight. He didn’t understand. He wouldn’t let him spoil this.

Science—science was the future. And they would see.

His departure comes as quick as his arrival, his mother asking when he thinks he’ll be back in California.

“Soon,” he says, unable to give her any definite number, pulling at the hope this project is supposed to bring. “When we’ve won the war.”

Alone, he arranges to have himself and his entire life brought to San Francisco, where he’ll meet the train that carries him to the future.

—

San Francisco to Santa Fe.

Emmett spends most of his time in comfortable silence, watching the touches of humanity upon the land slowly and slowly being stripped away. Pavement gives way to dirt and grass and unsullied earth and the towering buildings of the cities sprout leaves and stretch up to the heavens, basking in the afternoon sunlight.

He remembers the itinerary—cryptic instructions written on a packet of papers shoved into his hands and the explicit instructions to allow nobody else to see the contents of this folder. Emmett doesn’t think he could forget it if he tries, burning a hole in the inner pocket of his overcoat, searing his chest even through his clothes.

More often than not, he tries to imagine the stage that will hold what is supposed to be the greatest scientific advancements of the last three centuries—what we’ll be doing here will be the culmination of the last three centuries of physics. Don’t you want to be a part of that?—I want to take on this challenge—only to imagine something even more fantastical than its predecessor every time he tries.

A fully functioning laboratory and city do not just spring up overnight in the middle of the desert, but Oppenheimer had said it would be ready in time, and Emmett found himself almost immediately assured by that, half-convinced that Nature itself would bend to that man’s charm.

Perhaps, Emmett thinks, a flutter in his stomach equal parts dread and excitement, it just might.

What else would require some of the greatest scientific minds to gather in one remote location under the strictest security imaginable?

The possibilities lull him into a dream-filled sleep.

—

They’re waiting for him there, just as they said. Two large uniformed escorts that Emmett easily has several inches on tower over him, usher him into an ordinary old car—grey, unassuming, rather mundane, actually, but when discretion is key—and expertly fit an entire life into the boot.

As if they’ve done this before.

Clement and Rosario, Lieutenant-Commander and Lieutenant, respectively, as he’s come to learn from the intermittent conversation, were the ones assigned to bring him to the site, get him through security, and make sure everything went off without a hitch.

Emmett watches, his face all but pressed against the window in the back as the landscape overrides the thoughts about this project that have been playing on a loop since he first alighted the train back in California. The desert is beautiful, nothing like the views in the city, and maybe he views the wide open area through the tinted lenses of lingering boyish romanticism for such an environment, but there is a rough, rugged beauty to it all in reality that Emmett is pleased to know for himself is not just a result of the films.

He must have said that out loud, because the younger of the two—or the one Emmett assumes is younger, given the softness still present on his face that looks out of place with the gun strapped to his hip—Rosario, says, “Yeah, isn’t it? Beautiful place out here. Shame we went and ruined it.” Before Emmett can ask what that means, he just says, “You’ll see.”

He does see, almost immediately.

This complex—‘Welcome home, Doc,’ Clement jokes in that gruff voice of his—looks more like a prison dropped in the most remote location they could think of, where they’ll work and torture them until they get what they want or die trying. That fence must be ten feet high, topped with barbed wire, and Emmett wonders how many scientists they know of that are athletic enough to even attempt scaling a wall like that.

They preferred to scale theoretical hurdles, not physical.

The cold feeling of dread slithers up his spine. He dismisses it the moment they reach the security checkpoint, telling himself he’s being foolish—the military is involved; everything with them is cloak-and-dagger.

Processing takes an eternity, and Emmett feels a rush of dizziness he can’t quite explain when a thick set of papers are pressed into his hand, followed by a white identification badge that has immortalised his awkwardness in a frozen snapshot of time.

“Housing information’s on the first page. You’ll get used to the layout. Keep that badge with you at all times, Doctor Brown.”

[autumnrory]

it does still make me insane that people think tony's death was so sad but think nothing of natasha's but also like both deaths were soooooooo unnecessary and i'm like how do you think it was poignant or whatever how tony died when it was so fucking stupid because SO MANY OTHER PEOPLE could have been the one wielding the gauntlet and not gotten killed about it skjdfkjs i just hate it all sm

[trophywifemac]

binged through mythic quest in 2 days and while I have some thoughts, it made me cry like 6 times and I need season 4 like yesterday

[dairine-bonnet]

Carth: ...Blast if you're not the most frustrating woman I've ever met!

Amnesiac Revan: We've come through plenty of things, it's kind of natural you feel something for me!

Carth: Damn it, if you keep haunting me, i'm going to put you over my knee and and teach me lesson!

Amnesiac Revan: ...Is it a promise?

[twelvedimensional]

also the depth the interiority that idle rambly monologue of the dr's holds, the fact that his offhand thoughts just coalesce into this wonderfully stark image (the tardis, revered, the tardis, reviled, the tardis, the center of a city and then all alone again at the edge of a sea)

[atticcreationz]

did I post this already this year or was it a few years ago, I can't even begin to remember but in any case let's just call this an updated one then now that we have NPMD! Starkid musical tier list! Let's be real they're all great, and here's to more Starkid things in the years to come 🙏

[girlboccaccio]

My brilliant friend (2018 - ongoing) tumblr posting part 4 of x

[ellelans]

I think we are...we all are a bit like little ships lost at sea.We've all been through a lot.Left our families,been rejected on way or another.Bunch of queers and freaks and girls who haven't grown up yet.

HALSTON 1x01-''BECOMING HALSTON''.