#only Juli actually likes reading

[emotiandon]

Hi!! Delivering some OC questions: What's their favorite genre of books? What's their least favorite genre?

The photos above is a bookshelf with books collected by JAKE (Juliet, Atticus, Karina and Eden)

Juli is the most avid reader out of the four. She can read every type of book, from the dark and grim to the soft and meaningful. Her favourite genre is History and poetry/theatrical as History relates to her dream of having her name in history while the theatrical is for her love of acting. Though Juli hates with a passion, any smutty book as she views those books as “Paper bounded by a weak plot, names and descriptions to aid those who cannot experience the ones in the book” she’s also asexual so it probably why she hates it.

Attina is a couple that have one brain cell, which makes them read smutty books because that’s the type of people they are and because they hate reading. Atticus reads it because one, he’s desperate, and two he likes making Juli angry. Karin mainly does to get more ideas. Though Karin also has books about beauty, depression, modelling and envy to help her issues. She also has books about the ugly duckling or swan lake as they relate to her swan theme. Atticus only have magazines that he stole from Karina. They both dislikes history and textbooks, basically just big wordy books.

Eden, mainly reads fairytales, kid books, sappy romances as well as books on building confidence, gardening, crochet. Eden like Atticus and Karina hates history and big wordy books.

[g0nefischin]

MERSKELES PART 3!

Definitely not mermay anymore but here's the last 3 sirens I wanted to do

and some explanation on why I choose what I did under the cut

(little warning for parasites on fresh's section)

So from left to right

Dream is a golden colored koi carp fish, I picked it because they are very pretty and they represent a lot of positive things like luck and fortune, some people even wish on them to make their dreams come true :> I also thought of the legend where a golden koi fish climbs a large waterfall to turn into a dragon, so they have some mythical legends as well. In terms of the actual fish, Koi are very sociable and sturdy, they also live for quite awhile.

Nightmare is a coelacanth, he should probably be an octopus considering he has tentacles, but I really wanted to make him a coelacanth because I think they are neat. Coelacanth's are very old with the latest fossils being over 400 million years old, they were thought to be extinct until one was found in 1938, grandpa nightmare. They are also nocturnal, sleeping in caves during the day, they live deep in the ocean as well. 

Fresh is actually a two in one, he is a rainbow parrotfish with a tongue-eating louse in his mouth. Out of alI the bright fish I did a parrotfish because I really like their gradients, and I think the magenta fins fit his jacket. He's a parasite inside of a Sans body, so I picked a fish parasite to go along with the fish half of his body. I chose the tongue-eating louse, a type of parasite that replaces a fish's tongue. It first severs the blood vessels to the tongue and once it falls off takes its place. feeding on nutrients and acting as a new tongue for the rest of the fish's life, very cool and terrifying.

[dawdlecentric]

Yeag...

[sscrambledmeggss]

it’s just me and my glocs (glee original characters) against the world

[writeouswriter]

I should write a stage play

[milf-harrington]

i haven't seen seasons 1 through 3 since 2019 (but i am slowly making my way back through it) so forgive me for any inaccuracies, but purely from memory this is how im ranking steve from each season

character in general

Season Two Steve, because he's still got that jock-ish bitchy energy but it's also where we really start to see his softer side and also i think the first time you genuinely feel for him (his problem with billy, his implied problem with school, the bullshit scene), it's also the birth of babysitter steve!! and the second but much more thorough time we're shown that he's fully willing to put his life on the line to protect people he doesn't even know that well. He's a competent and strategic character who definitely has the vibe of Just Trying To Get Through The Year.

Scoops Steve, for similar reasons as the above but we also get to see the goofier prettyboy side of him and we're better introduced to Steve's observational skills and how the fact that he's not "smart" like the others is actually one of his advantages. Because while robin and dustin were focused on translating russian, steve couldn't stop noticing how familiar the background music was. this is also the season where Steve is starting to be written as a ditzier character, but i'm choosing to chalk that up to the fact that he's more laidback and less worried about his public appearance now that he works at an icecream parlor and wears a sailor uniform. (This is also the most bisexual version of steve, followed by s4)

King Steve, who i personally think was quite shallow (like from a writing perspective) but that is almost definitely because he wasn't originally supposed to survive the first season so he's forgiven for that. Still, we are shown someone who is cutting and self-confident, and then later shown that he is someone who is quick to realise when he's genuinely fucked up and just as quick to apologise. It's also when we're introduced to the idea that he will consciously put himself in danger to protect others. (@peter-pantomime made a really great video about one of Steve's tells on tiktok and i haven't been able to get it out of my head ever since)

Season 4 Steve, because they pretty much erased any and all of the competency previously shown in his character. I think this season did the most disservice to him, seeming to only write him off as genuine idiot who gets treated like shit by all of his friends and is only useful as a babysitter for teenagers who don't want to be babysat. It erased any progress he'd made in regards to his relationship with Nancy Wheeler, i think the only thing that kept him feeling like Steve was Joe Keery's acting and how well he knows the character. I think a lot of what was wrong with Steve's character this season could've been a really great way to introduce the amount of head trauma he's received through the other seasons but considering it wasn't so much as hinted at in canon it just seems like they circled back around to making Steve Harrington's character as shallow as it was in season 1. whether or not that's because they're setting him up to die in season 5, i think it was unfair.

character design

Scoops Steve, in his little sailor outfit with the floofy hair and the lipgloss?? iconic (bonus: the dark blue jeans with the red and blue vest when he applies at family video)

Season Two Steve, with the tight blue jeans and the sunglasses and the swoopy hair and the nail bat, also iconic (bonus: his gym uniform AND the maroon sweater when he drops dustin off at the dance)

Season 4 Steve bc he spent a majority of his screen time shirtless and only wearing a battle vest, and then later the coolest fucking jacket i've ever seen (wait shout out to that blue and white polo shirt that showed off his arms, thank you for your service; and his cute little yellow sweater)

King Steve, while i do love the preppy look and how much it made him look like a puppy at times, what the actual fuck was going on with his hair?? i would have liked to see more of the floppy haired steve we saw when he was helping Nancy study ):

[orcelito]

Actually we r at 6 months now without any major deaths in my life, which is great! That's the longest I've gone without any major deaths since last May! The second longest was 4 months between July and November last year. Wow !

[doctorbrown]

MCFLY JULY ‘24 ⸺ 「 17 / 31 * DAVE'S NIGHT OFF 」

March 3, 1986, Twin Pines Timeline(β)

Five months since Marty’s sudden disappearance. 

Linda doesn’t even have to pretend she doesn’t know exactly where she’ll find Dave when he’s not at home. If he’s not working, busting his ass taking whatever job that pays so he can keep funnelling it into the supplies to stock this cursed garage, he’s hunched over on the couch, buried up to his brain in papers that may as well be written in Greek for all he can read them. 

It’s the same place he spends most of his free time these days; surrounded by ghosts and a couple of Mom’s swiped bottles of vodka.

Not like she notices when a couple of them go missing. 

Dave once said he could hear Marty in here. Like he was still alive. Still here, because Marty’s not dead. He’s somewhere, God-only-knows, but he’s not dead because they only found one body in that parking lot and Marty had to be there because he was Doctor Brown’s fucking shadow—but since Marty’s body wasn’t there, just that truck and that poor dog—Einstein or Edison or whatever; some dead scientist—lying next to the body, according to the cops, that meant someone must have kidnapped him.

They're faint echoes, Linda, he'd said, three-quarters deep into a bottle, but he sounds happy.  

It sounds like bullshit, but it's far more than anything they have at the moment.

And it means, regardless of however tightly she has to wring her own heart to get even a single drop of hope out of it, there's a chance Marty is still alive. 

“How long have you been here today?” Dave pretends not to hear her. Or maybe he wilfully ignores her. Once, she knew how to tell. “Dave, face it. T—”  

“Shut the fuck up, Linda,” Dave snaps, and it takes every ounce of her resolve not to march up to him and slap him in the face for that. 

It’s grief that made him an asshole. It isn’t him. It has a way of burrowing into the deepest, most vulnerable parts of a person and poisoning them from the inside out until they were but shadows of their former selves. 

It’s already hollowed her out, stuffed her full of ice and made a cold, heartless bitch out of her until she was numb to the world. She figured that out when her mother’s broken sobs didn't spear her through the heart like they used to. As if it was her fault.

Why weren't you nicer to him that night?

That shouldn’t be an excuse. But she lets it be for Dave’s sake, and her own, because maybe, as fucking crazy as it sounds, they’ll just find that one in a million breakthrough scattered in the ramblings of a dead man. 

Who apparently claims he learned to leap through time. 

Some good that did him if it was true. He’s buried in Oak Park Cemetery, looking like Swiss cheese. Wasn’t time-travel supposed to help prevent exactly that?  

Maybe it could have saved Marty.  

Maybe it’s exactly what stole Marty away from them.  

“They’re going to tear this place down, Dave. In two weeks! T-w-o. And they’re not going to stop the bulldozers because you’re glued to that fucking couch. What good are you going to be dead? Do you know what that’s going to do to Mom?” She puts her hands on her hips and might have inwardly shuddered at how much she sounded like Mom if she had the energy.  

With Marty gone, she didn’t expect to be an older sister again. 

After a long, tense silence, she finally sighs. She didn’t come here to fight. “Did you eat anything today?” He’s swimming in his T-shirts now; they’re all but falling off his shoulders.  

Dave huffs, dragging his fingers through his shaggy hair. “Jen left about twenty minutes ago; she’s grabbing Chinese. You know, that place...where...”

Yeah. I know.

“I gave her some money. Then we’re gonna go back to this.” He spreads his arms, gesturing to the mess of paperwork that makes just as much sense as it did four and a half months ago.

“Are you staying?”

Linda says yes because a part of her, too, is trapped within these four walls.

[dashiellqvverty]

i apologize to all my mutuals i promise i will be normal but there is a part of me regressing to my 15 year old self reading an archived livejournal pete/key manifesto for the first time at 12am on a school night

[kaus-quietis]

The circus bookclub - The Letter Killer Club, by Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky

There are some authors I simply cannot get enough of, and Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky is one of them. In this first ever edition of this new bookclub, here in the circus, I'll share with you my most recent read of him! And what more fitting title than The Letter Killer Club to introduce the bookclub, right?

Hello there! I'm the circus resident poltergeist, Eliott, managing this blog until Lav comes back. Here in the circus bookclub I share with you my most recent reads/amazing books I wish everyone would pick up one day!

Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky is an Ukrainian author born in 1887 in Kyiv, who died in Moscow in 1950. He wrote his works in russian language, and was little published in his lifetime: most of his works were published posthumously.

The Letter Killer Club is a short novel (approx. 100-150pages according to the publisher/language of translation) written in 1926. Its story revolves around the life of a Club, the Letter Killer Club, run by 7 individuals. The story starts when they welcome an 8th member, a writer intrigued by the peculiar people seeing each other once a week, in a quiet room lit by the fireplace.

In the Letter Killer Club, the members think that writing their ideas on paper would denature them. In their philosophy, ideas stay pure when they only stay to this stage: ideas. Every week, the members of the club tell each other their book ideas, scenarios, without ever writting them on paper. Each week, one member speaks. This is how the seven chapters of this book are organized, by the story of one individual, followed or interrupted by the occasionnal remarks or conversations around it (reminding me of Marguerite de Navarre's Heptameron, if some of you are familiar with french late medieval literature here). In these stories, Krzhizhanovsky seems to always explore a philosophical thought, or ideas about literature and what it is to be a writer. This is, according to me, part of what makes this book so interesting to read.

These stories are strange, almost metaphysical at times, funny and tragic. I will not go in details about them so you can fully enjoy this book, should you decide to read it, but what striked me in The Letter Killer Club is how well balanced Krzhizhanovsky's writing was, between telling the stories and the characters of the Club themselves. With very few elements, Krzhizhanovsky succeeds in creating a particular atmosphere, one that engulfs you and makes you feel like you are seated there, amongst them, almost as a 9th member of this strange reunion.

Krzhizhanovsky is an incredible writer. These themes of the idea vs. writing it, putting it on paper, what it is to write, to have ideas, to be a writer, are extremely present in most of his works, but they seem to be particularly explored in this one. During his lifetime, while he wasn't much published, Krzhizhanovsky was very present in literary circles, and therefore certainly involved in many philosophical discussions of what it meant to be a writer at that time. This shows in his works, and he explores these questions in a very clever way.

Krzhizhanovsky's writing is demanding and his ideas need some thinking and time to be well reflected upon, but I believe his works are extremely interesting if you ever want to explore more of the literature of his time. Often using fantastic elements or situations to convey his ideas, his writing is a clever mix of fantastic, abstract, absurd and reflection on writing itself.

I hope this made you curious about this author's works! Krzhizhanovsky has written many short stories as well, and these are also great if you ever want to give a chance to reading his writing.

Sources : his wikipedia page for the bio / goodreads for the english edition of the letter killer club

[erythristicbones]

usually at work all of the coffee bagging is split between two ppl, i do all the retail and the other guy does all the wholesale. but he's going home for a month on july 14th, which means for that month i will be the only one doing all the bagging

so like on one hand i feel "sweet more money/shifts, maybe i can actually afford that new phone soon" but on the other hand........yeah, it does mean that im gonna have a lot more responsibility on my shoulders alone huh

[lesbianlenas]

ladies……….

[titsthedamnseason]

some of the za inconsistencies just make me laugh. like when they made a big production about how no one is supposed to ride on a dragon but now they’re basically taxis and how it was this huge deal to use the binding needle that you had to be specially trained for and now it’s just being used left and right 😭 what was the point

[caracolcondiarrea]

Doing the writing in the English C1 exam feels EXACTLY like Hamilton writing the Federalist papers.

[amtrak12]

Also I'm really happy to report that the girl who used to wake up at 4 am to snoop through her Christmas stocking grew up to be the lady who checks the fandoms in the fic exchange to see if she can guess which one her mystery gift is for 👍

[feyburner]

I ??? woke up at 3am with this scene fully written in my mind palace and quickly jotted it down in the Notes app

*

Clark’s shaking his head before he realizes he’s doing it, and feels a twinge of embarrassment at his own bad manners when Bruce stops mid-word to look at him, brows raised.

“No?” he says.

“No,” Clark says, again without thinking, and again with the reflexive urge to apologize. Somewhere his mother is tutting without knowing why. But he doesn’t apologize, because he’s already saying, “No, it can’t—it can’t be that.”

“Okay,” Bruce says slowly. “Can you elaborate?”

He is, honestly, having trouble taking his eyes off the screen. The mockup design of his new suit is there, dark and sleek, ridged like tactical gear. The blue is like the last shade of evening before you can’t call it evening anymore, the color of nine PM in Kansas in July, so exact there’s a strong chance Bruce color-picked it from a photo. The yellow accents are the cool fluorescent yellow-green of lightning bugs. The red is dark as arterial blood. Every aspect of the suit has been updated—the colors deeper, the angles sharper, the S extending to the corners of its frame—but Bruce has done it without changing the fundamentals. It’s immediately recognizable as the Superman suit, just… well, a little cooler, maybe. A little more of the times. Even the tailoring is modernized. The neckline. The shape of the boots. Where the belt hits at the waist. Clark can tell just by looking that Bruce has not only spent a lot of time on this in general, he’s spent a lot of time designing it specifically with Clark in mind, Clark’s needs and preferences and the small discomforts of his current suit, things he might have mentioned offhand after a mission but never with the assumption that Bruce was listening or filing it away. No doubt the next slides of this presentation will detail all the hidden features of the new suit, and they’ll all be incredibly thoughtful if not slightly overkill, and Bruce will pretend his sole motive here was practicality and risk reduction and respond to any thanks with a curt nod.

And Clark wants to thank him. He will. It’s just.

“It can’t be… cool,” he says, inane. Bruce is watching him with that steady look that used to feel clinical, piercing, and now mostly reads as attentive. “It can’t be—like yours. Tactical, military-grade.”

“Lightyears beyond, actually.”

“It has to—Ma said once, a kid should be able to draw it with crayons. You know? I can’t look like a weapon. I have to—I want to look like a friend.”

He can feel himself flushing. It’s rare that he speaks like this, and rarer still that he does so while being stared at intently. Bruce may think of himself as the darkness, but his gaze is a spotlight: unwavering and revealing and more a little sweat-inducing, for one reason or another.

“Sometimes, when I show up, people laugh,” Clark says. “If it’s somewhere out of the way, where they haven’t seen me before. I show up and I look like a festival performer. It’ll be the worst day of their lives, and they’ve got no reason to trust my face, but when they see what I’m wearing—it goes from ‘Who are you?’ to ‘Who is this guy?’ And that’s a good thing.”

“Hard to be afraid of a man dressed in primary colors,” Bruce says, almost to himself.

“Exactly.”

“I see. Thank you,” he says, “for explaining.”

Clark tries not to show how surprised he is to hear that. Judging by the crook of Bruce’s mouth, his success is negligible. ��Of course. Sorry I didn’t—I mean, thank you, obviously, for going to such trouble. I didn’t mean to come in here and—I really do appreciate it, I can tell you put a lot of work in—”

Bruce’s eyes cut away. “No. No need. I didn’t ask, before I…. It was only a first draft. If you’re amenable, I’ll incorporate your feedback into the second one.”

“Oh! Yeah. Yes, of course, but you really don’t have to—”

“If you have any further notes, I would like to hear them.”

There’s something determined in the lines of his face. Clark has the sense that this moment is important, that it’s a turning point, even if he’s not sure why. It feels like striking out into a sea of ice, a blank white expanse under which something precious and vital is hidden, has been hidden all along, just waiting for him to find it. To want to.

“Sure,” he says. He looks back at the suit and swallows, and knows Bruce will see the flicker of his throat and take some meaning from it, and wishes he knew what the meaning was. Or maybe Bruce won’t notice or read into it at all. Maybe Clark needs to calm down, in fact. “Um. I don’t want to assume, but does it… do things?”

“It does things,” Bruce confirms, after the barest pause. “Let me show you the next slide.”