Oh, oh that is what’s up with Noah.

To all the Tumblr users who tend to use tags very liberally:



Let’s play a game. Type the following words into your tags box, then post the first automatic tag that comes up:

  • you
  • also
  • what
  • when
  • why
  • how
  • look
  • because
  • never


(via kulshedra)

imagine a version of the secret history where everything is exactly the same except all the classics students have dyed their hair various pastel shades. the only shade left is pastel pink. Richard spends the whole book debating being cool vs feeling unemasculated.


I had been in the Greek class for less than three weeks when I found a note tacked to my bedroom door. The cramped, spidery handwriting was immediately recognizable as Bunny’s (I had to assume one of the less-meticulous students on my hall had let him in).

Richard old Man,

I couldn’t help but Notice that you’ve been Lacking a certain je ne say sais Quois (sp. Henry’s, he’s rather a Know It All) but at any rate I took the Liberty of leaving you a little something under the Door.

P.S. tell the blond girl down your Hall that letting strangers in isn’t in her best Interest. wouldnt want anything to get damaged, haha.

P.P.S. for Best results bleach 30 minutes though i might go an Hour with your colour

He’d drawn a smiley face next to the post-script. Tilted sideways just a few degrees, it reminded me of Dionysus, smiling serenely from the back of a vase - an ill omen if ever there was one. What, I thought frantically, fumbling my keys, could Bunny have left under my door? “Bleach for 30 minutes” - it all sounded rather ominous.

The answer became apparent when I opened the door and stumbled - I was still a little drunk, I suppose - over the threshold into my cramped and chilly bedroom. There in front of my feet, illuminated by a slash of moonlight, was the pink cosmetic tube Camilla had playfully threatened me with earlier. I didn’t need to pick it up to know what it was - an atrocious shade of hair dye that advertised itself as Manic Panic’s “Pink Cadillac” color. My heart jumped erratically in my chest. I had been so certain that they were only joking. Bunny had even derided the idea when Henry had first proposed it to him - though now that I look back on that day, tainted by what I later discovered about my new friends, I realize that coming from Henry, it was more of a command than a proposal.

"Don’t be ridiculous," Bunny had said, tossing the tube of spring-green dye back at Henry. "If we do this we’ll never be able to be in public all at once, or we’ll look like one of those damn rainbow flags those" - he dropped his voice scandalously, so that I had to lean in to hear him - "you know, those people are always wearing in their rubbish pride demonstrations.”

Francis had given him a withering look. “Bunny,” he’d said icily, “maybe that’s the point.”

Bunny had blinked at him, the subtlety (such as it was) lost. Then: “Ah! Good man,” he’d said, giving Francis a slap on the back. “I see. We’re taking back the rainbow.”

Camilla, behind Bunny’s back, had offered Francis a hopeless little shrug.

Now, in the close darkness of my room, punctuated only by that sliver of moonlight, like some small fissure in the ceiling of Hades meant not to give hope to the shades of the dead but to remind them of what they’ve lost, I thought of Camilla, her robin’s-egg-blue hair tossed over her shoulder or flying in the wind. For once, she and Charles, who had needed only a little bleach to achieve the perfect pastel yellow, didn’t look like twins. It was the first time I’d thought of them as separate entities, as if the color separated them. Did Charles see it that way, I wondered? Had Camilla jumped at the idea and rushed off to buy her dye for a reason?

The pink tube sat motionless, quiet and obliging as a ritual Bacchus, at my feet. What, I thought, would Judy Poovey and her vicious troupe of pot-addled harpies have to say about this? No doubt she would disapprove; she was always trying, one way or another, to get me into bed. Or - how would I look walking down the street beside Francis, with his mop of lavender hair?

What on earth was I supposed to do about this?

book ask! :) 1, 2, 3 and 4. damn... all those questions are pretty interesting... 13, 14, 18, 21, 41 too, please? ^^'

Weeeee I’d kind of forgotten about this ok here we go. (forgive me, friend!)

1: What was the last book you read? 

If we’re talking fiction, The Secret History by Donna Tartt. Non-fiction, Heavenly Bodies by Paul Koudounaris.

2: Was it a good one? 3: What made it good? 

They were both wonderful. The Secret History is basically the embodiment of all of my favorite fictional things (ensemble cast of pretty, smart people who may or may not be murderers and also totally sleeping with each other). Heavenly Bodies, also known in-house as The Blinged Out Skeleton Book, was also a lot better than expected. I am a (very) lapsed Catholic, but I also hold the view that the Catholic Church is responsible for much of what we consider worth seeing and visiting in Europe nowadays… and that includes bejeweled skeletons of fake martyrs. Hell yeah.

4: Would you recommend it to other people? 

Huh… nope. I mean, yes, but not to everyone. I think they’re both niche books, really. Those obsessed with writing rules and show-don’t-tell and murder your darlings and super tight super utilitarian prose may not be ready for a book as rambly (and I say this in the best of ways) and character-driven as The Secret History. I can see a lot of my writing friends complaining about that. Yeah. About Heavenly Bodies, I don’t think it’s a book that would hold much interest for the general public, but hey… bejeweled skeletons.

13: What’s your favorite book? 

In no particular order:

  • I, Lucifer by Glen Duncan
  • Ad Vitam Aeternam by Thierry Jonquet
  • Disturbed By Her Song by Tanith Lee
  • Kamikaze Girls by Novala Takemoto
  • Shadow Dance by Angela Carter
  • Love by Angela Carter
  • Johannes Cabal The Necromancer by Jonathan L. Howard

And some honorable mentions:

  • The Silver Metal Lover by Tanith Lee
  • Little Hands Clapping by Dan Rhodes
  • Blindness by José Saramago
  • The Book Of Human Skin by Michelle Lovric
  • The Secret History by Donna Tartt
  • Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Sáenz

14: What’s your least favorite book? 

I don’t really keep track of things I don’t like, so… yeah, I have no idea. I am markedly uninterested in medieval fantasy and books about middle-aged men getting drunk and nostalgic, though.

18: What is your favorite book series? 

Answered here!

21: Who is your favorite character in a book series? 

Oh. Oh wow. Ok, I’ll name some from the favorite books above:

  • The archangel Raphael from I, Lucifer;
  • Momoko from Kamikaze Girls (PLS BE MY LIFE COACH);
  • Honey and Emily from Shadow Dance;
  • Buzz from Love;
  • Horst Cabal from The Necromancer
  • Cecilia Cornaro, Rafaela the nun (first time I’ve seen my name in a book, and it turned out beautifully), and Sor Loreta in The Book Of Human Skin, all for different reasons;
  • Judy and Francis and Camilla from The Secret History.

Yes hello my name is [insert full name here] and I have a type. Give me all your morally grey hedonists and your morally grey sacrificial lambs. Then ship them.

41: Who gave you your love of reading? 

My parents, all the way. I grew up surrounded by books, even though they were fancy decorative books and not… you know, well thumbed books that had actually been read. Didn’t matter, because they made me associate book shelves with home anyway, and I’m not joking when I say libraries and book shops make me feel extremely at ease. Mostly book shops. My parents made sure I had books around me pretty much since day one, and even though I don’t actually know how old I was when I started reading by myself (I was five, or younger, but that’s hardly impressive), I had already developed a habit of flipping through books by then. I got pretty obsessed in middle school, and my parents were always very supportive - they would deny me toys and clothes sometimes, but never books. And they were also very permissive, I believe. There was never any sort of censorship or parental supervision around here, which is probably why I found myself reading Victorian porn at eleven years old. I’m not saying it was a fun experience, I had no idea of what the book was about when I picked it up… but I think kids need freedom to “digest” the world at their own pace, and I’m glad I got to figure things out by myself without my parents hovering over my reading materials all the time. I kind of ended up reading the dictionary when I ran out of books in the house, so I wasn’t always that subversive, but hey… that’s what growing up is all about.

So yeah, this got long, but the answer is “my parents” and also “my favorite aunt who let me borrow books on Aleister Crowley and poltergeists”.

(Source: pikahuns, via boonies)


I love how native English speakers think their language is so difficult and annoying and takes so much time to learn and make all these posts about grammatical absurds and how it’s such a bother for foreigners and how it’s such a big deal that they blog in English

let me explain you a thing

An average English speaker is fluent in their language at the age of 12

For instance, for an average Polish speaker (using this example cause I’m Polish) it takes 16 to 18 years to become fluent in their native language

And in most European/Asian/South American countries we start learning English in kindergarten or first year of elementary school

Then on higher levels of education other languages like French, German, Italian, Spanish or Russian are added

Most Europeans are at least bi-lingual since they’re like 4 years old

We often find English a lot easier than our native languages. We think in English, we speak English, we use shitton of English words and slang in our everyday speech. We cannot pass school if we’re not at least decent at English, and most of times we get better grades in English than in our native language classes.

So please stop acting like you’re the special snowflakes out there, your language is one of the fucking easiest in the entire universe.

Try learning an actually difficult foreign language like Greek, Chinese, Polish, Romanian, Arabic, Dutch, Filipino, just whatever, and then think about treating non-native English speakers like we’re some damn extinct exotic animals.


but… how does it work??

Check it out!

shadowetienne replied to your photo “Today, I used my problem solving skills in a slightly weird, slightly…”

How are those last few books staying up? I am confused.

I glued them together!

(ok no no I didn’t gods forbid DON’T BELIEVE THAT)

Alright. Are you ready for the science? I don’t think you’re ready for the science. Here’s an empty shelf, with a box like the one pictured in the other photo, and… an L-shaped metal bookend!

Now, that bookend looks a little flimsy, doesn’t it? And it doesn’t actually stay up, it keeps sliding into this weird useless position. Let’s put a book on top of it!

Wow ok that’s unimpressive. But what if we add more books?


So yeah, that’s the principle, it’s just a balancing act. My dad made these years ago for my mom’s books, they’re stainless steel bent at a ninety degree angle, nothing too fancy. I needed something to help me bridge the gap between the box and the side of the shelf, and after considering a lot of options and realising that a simple board would sag at the end, I thought… hey but what if I had a side piece that pushed against the shelf and helped me distribute the weight? That way, the very weight of the books would keep the structure in place. Aaaaaaaaand I remembered we had half a dozen of these in the attic and the rest is history.

It’s just a temporary solution, though, until I can enlist my dad and his circular saw to build shelves with the exact size. Until then… SCIENCE.




Someone help me find a book?

I heard a radio spot about 5-6 years ago on a new American book (back then) about a paranoid schizophrenic (I want to say he was a teenager or in his 20s?) who is convinced he’s seeing signs of the apocalypse and that he’s the only one who can stop it so he does all this heroic stuff and has a female love interest and it’s told in 3rd person.

From time to time I think “I should find that book and read it” but I can NEVER FIND IT and google is not helping.

Anyone have any ideas?

Ok, might be a long shot considering the tone of the thing, but… is it Lowboy?



You’re welcome! You can pay me back with book recs and or The Raven Boys meta (though not right now), because I’m halfway through it and I have a lot of thoughts.


Someone help me find a book?

I heard a radio spot about 5-6 years ago on a new American book (back then) about a paranoid schizophrenic (I want to say he was a teenager or in his 20s?) who is convinced he’s seeing signs of the apocalypse and that he’s the only one who can stop it so he does all this heroic stuff and has a female love interest and it’s told in 3rd person.

From time to time I think “I should find that book and read it” but I can NEVER FIND IT and google is not helping.

Anyone have any ideas?

Ok, might be a long shot considering the tone of the thing, but… is it Lowboy?