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Vintage book covers 💕
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kensyouen_Y
I've seen the first 3 seconds of this and scrolled on so many times and only now do I see my mistake
the country house era of the secret history is so so cute like if i showed someone that chapter out of context they’d think this is a coming of age novel
— flea
this is so, so true. i remember feeling the most exhilarated and enchanted when reading those passages. they're simply so refreshing, so youthful, so true to the aesthetic, so indulgent, so raw. i don't think i've ever desired anything more than to be there with them, getting daydrunk and storming francis' ancient family library. the essence of youth is enciphered in those pages, that text. it's one of the concrete reasons i fell in love with TSH in the first place. any scenario at the country house — bacchanal excluded — is one i would let myself be flayed in order to experience.
in addition, you're undeniably right — it does read like a coming-of-age during those passages, painfully so. it's what makes the book all the more alluring. dark academia — yes, pretentiousness and malice galore, but not without an occasional sprinkle of youthful indulgences and pleasant endeavors that not only make us sympathize with the characters, but be attracted to them.
(from a henry lover, personally.)
when it comes to consciousness raising you can spend time telling someone “crazy” is a slur or you can spend time explaining that what looks like “care” or “cure” or “mercy” to them is actually eugenics or abuse. one of these projects has to precede the other and i bet you can guess which one i would prioritize
you’re either going to build a base of clueless liberals who learn by rote to nitpick their language for anything with the remotest connection to ability, or you’re going to help them develop the alertness and critical eye necessary to recognize eugenics and abuse. i don’t think those things are mutually compatible in an immediate timeframe, because one locates both the root and branch of oppression in a disembodied cloud of language and thought, and the other locates it in the real material structures that we need to confront immediately in order to save actual lives. not saying “crazy” isn’t going to get anyone out of forced institutionalization
Remind me later.
I bet octopuses think bones are horrific. I bet all their cosmic horror stories involve rigid-limbs and hinged joints.
To an octopus, a human is like a thinking being with blood-stained coral growing inside it.
I need to sit down and breathe into a bag for a while.
Its parts were obscenely limited in their movement. Each hinge could open or close only a small amount before reaching its limit, yet by working in concert they demonstrated unexpected dexterity, moving and manipulating the objects before it with cunning equal to my own. It was more torso than limb, as though a seal had been stretched and warped, given long grasping tentacles filled with bones like bars of coral. It’s head was most horrid of all, flat and ovoid, jutting out too small from the trunk as though it belonged to a beast half its size.
The thing rose upon its lowermost appendages, two long trunks that ended in flat, protruding flippers that branched into stubby, grasping mockeries of a sucker. It’s triple-hinged uppermost limbs were similar, but the ends branched into five smaller tentacles, each with three hinges of their own.
I froze, as the thing’s gaze fell upon me and it opened its hideous fish-jaw, filled with thick, many-shaped teeth like white shards of stone, and spoke in a shrill, discordant babble. I felt its horrid dry grip on my flesh, as those hinged appendages closed on me like the legs of a crab.
I felt the heat of its body, tasted its noxious, oily flesh through my touch, and prepared for the end, and all went black as a swoon overtook me.
I awoke, some time later, the cold and comforting water, banished back to the comfort of the sea and the dark. I should be grateful I am alive. I should cast aside the experience like a half-remembered dream.
I shall never again go swimming in search of lights above. The last thing I recall before the darkness took me was my right eye popping free of the thing’s grasp enough to see into the distance for one brief moment.
I saw thousands of lights.
ok so it turns out “horror but it’s about something mundane from the perspective of a non-human animal” fucks severely
This is the magic lucky word count. Reblog for creativity juice. It might even work, who knows.
Wrong: Ada Lovelace invented computer science and immediately tried to use it to cheat at gambling because she was Lord Byron's daughter.
Right: Ada Lovelace invented computer science and immediately tried to use it to cheat at gambling because that was the closest you could get in 1850 to being a Super Mario 64 speedrunner.
This is how I found out that Ada Lovelace was Lord Byrons daughter
Well, yeah. That's why she received the unusual education which laid the foundation for her later discoveries in the first place. Her mother, Lady Byron, firmly believed three things:
It was her responsibility as a mother to ensure that Ada didn't turn out like her father;
Fundamentally, the thing that was wrong with Lord Byron is that he was a poet; and
The opposite of poetry is math.
Ada Lovelace's biography handily illustrates how well this theory worked out in practice.
Hark, a vagrant: 298
nonononononnononononononon- PLEASE NONONONONONONONONONONONONONONPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASPELPSALSLEPLAPSLEPALPPLEASPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE
PLEASE NO NOT NOW NOT LIKE THIS, BELOVED PLEASE, PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME LIKE THIS I'M NOTHING WITHOUT YOU
"Do you ever dream of land?" The whale asks the tuna.
"No." Says the tuna, "Do you?"
"I have never seen it." Says the whale, "but deep in my body, I remember it."
"Why do you care," says the tuna, "if you will never see it."
"There are bones in my body built to walk through the forests and the mountains." Says the whale.
"They will disappear." Says the tuna, "one day, your body will forget the forests and the mountains."
"Maybe I don't want to forget," Says the whale, "The forests were once my home."
"I have seen the forests." Whispers the salmon, almost to itself.
"Tell me what you have seen," says the whale.
"The forests spawned me." Says the salmon. "They sent me to the ocean to grow. When I am fat with the bounty of the ocean, I will bring it home."
"Why would the forests seek the bounty of the oceans?" Asks the whale. "They have bounty of their own."
"You forget," says the salmon, "That the oceans were once their home."
@bees-with-swords decided to do another pass at illustrating this two years later, your writing is so lovely
One day I WILL write the Richard's TSH harem one day
(Last) Sunday supper 🐇
My piece based on the beautiful (gorgeous, heartwrenching, outstanding, amazing) story Grounds for Divorce by the exceedingly talented @tepre !!!
Bonus Harry close up cause I wanted y’all to see his freckles.
I have a love/hate relationship with this whole saga, day 15: Dagger
(not so) little red riding hood.
i first met her in a dream