i love this with the power of a thousand splendid suns

A to Z Recommendations


(Submitted by @lowat-golden-tower who loves to make me cry)

Kat finds herself standing in a library she’s only written about; only imagined. The voice of the Host reaches her ears and it’s all she ever thought it would be. The Host feels it necessary to to emphasize this state is only temporary. Soon Kat will return where she belongs, for the Host knows she has a special trip on the horizon. He will not keep her any longer than necessary.

Still, the Host must use his moment to thank Kat. Before Kat, there were many theories flying around about the Host. What he was like, what he enjoyed doing, what his relationships were with the other egos. There was much confusion, and the Host felt constantly… unsettled.

But Kat changed that. What began as a few simple ideas and theories, coupled with exquisite artwork, became so much more. Kat made a name for herself in the same community as the Host; made a name for the Host. With Kat’s help, the Host’s popularity grew. It still grows, even as the Host narrates this scene. With help from Kat, stemming from Kat’s own love, so many in the community have come to love the Host as well. The Host is strong, and powerful. But that power comes with the people, as Mark might say.

After hearing about Kat’s own growth, the Host knew it was time. A brief interlude to convey his gratitude and offer his congratulations. One thousand is a simple number by no means. One thousand is a millennium, the first insertion of the comma, a thousand lives and every single one has decided to follow you.

There are many great people in this world who can boast such a feat and more. Many thoughts and ideas and, of course, written works. Not unlike yours.

The number, the word, “a thousand;” it conveys such a statement that many great literary works borrow it. The Host brushes his fingers along the worn spines of texts he’s read hundreds of times. Tomes he can still recite from memory.

“A Thousand Splendid Suns,” bringing family together. “Thousand Cranes,” a story of desire and regret. “A Thousand Acres,” telling of a father and his daughters. “The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet,” a tale of adventure. The scale doesn’t end there, escalating to the classic, “Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea.” All wonderful stories, all cherished narratives, all very much like your own work.

The Host stands before Kat and smiles, clasping his hands neatly behind his back. He knows Kat is not afraid of his wounded appearance, for she has drawn him many a time. The Host cherishes every iteration, though he can only see it within his mind’s eye.

As Kat has stated, it has been four months. Four months of tireless work and road blocks of frustration and a passion for the Host, for the egos, for this community; which has long been known. Throughout all of the ups and downs, Kat has enthralled her followers, her readers, enough to inspire them with patience for more. To flood them with a creativity of their own, promoting even more works. It would all be impossible, or as Wilford might say, improbable, without you.

And so the Host thanks you, alcors-floating-hat, alcordraws, Kat. He, and all of the other egos, thank you for everything you have done for us. Everything you have done for the community and those within it. The Host takes a soft bow in Kat’s honor, and then he is afraid he must send Kat on her way.

The Host hopes Kat enjoyed her time with the Host, and will perhaps come back to visit very soon. There will always be a seat for her within Host’s library.

Congratulations, Kat, on one thousand followers. You deserve over a thousand more.

((Love you Kat, you’re a totally awesome and sweet person, and you honestly deserve all the amazing things you get. Here’s to more egos, more theories, more everything. And thank you, for giving me more than just inspiration. I’m so happy I finally got the nerve to message you, and I look forward to chatting like a bunch of dorks for a long time to come. Congratulations on a thousand followers, you deserve it. <3))

the devil sent this girl back

In which Caroline saves a baby vampire and it ruins her whole Queen Bitch routine.  

Okay, so I think this is the most fun drabble I’ve ever return. It’s a total role reversal, so it’s Original Hybrid Caroline and baby vampire Klaus, and this Caroline was definitely the most interesting to write. By the way, there is smut in this drabble, so all you kiddies out there or just anyone uncomfortable by that sort of thing, please don’t read, I’d hate to ruin your innocence. 

She waits until his vision is clear enough that he sees her standing over him. 

“I apologise,” She says, gently. “Unfortunately, your friends have proven to be less than trustworthy so I thought it better if I collected you myself.”

“Collected?” His voice is thick with confusion as he slurs out his words, still not completely recovered from the warlock’s assault.

She hums her agreement and crouches in front of him so that he can look her in the eye. 

Keep reading

Heaven and Earth: A Pas-de-Deux

A fic about Pearl & Amethyst and the past in general and the gem war in particular. Or, they never asked for it to be this way.

Goes through some pre-canon headcanons, some during-canon headcanons, and some canon stuff like “On the Run”, “Jailbreak”, and “Keystone Motel.”

(I already said this in my preview post, but this is in a first-person-y kind of second person, like Amethyst and Pearl are the proper narrators but they’re projecting it all onto an abstract “you” to avoid confrontations with themselves and each other.)

TW/CW for…uh…’wow these two canonically really hate themselves a lot’, and the self-harm-y symbolism of Pearl fighting her hologram-clones being ramped up somewhat from canon although not drastically–it’s just a lot more blatant when it’s done in words and not images.

Keep reading


thankyou to everyone who suggested books to me! I’m super excited to read every single one of these :) 

•The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini 
•A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini
•Looking For Alaska by John Green
•The Book Thief by Markus zusak
•Maze Runner by James Dashner
•Scorch Trials by James Dashner
•Death Cure by James Dashner
•Boy In The Striped Pyjamas by
•Doppelgänger by David Stahler
•Every Day by David Levithan
•Eleanor & Park by Rainbow Rowell
•The Colour Purple by Alice Walker
•We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves by Karen Joy Fowler
•It’s Kind Of A Funny Story by Ned Vizzini
•The Mara Dyer trilogy by Michelle Hodkin
•Inheritance Cycle by Christopher Paolini
• Time Travellers Wife by Audrey Niffenegger
•Girl Saves Boy by Steph Bowe
•Cloud Street by Tim Winter
•Elsewhere by Gabrielle Zevin
•Harp In The South by Ruth Park |
Before I Fall by Lauren Oliver
•Extremely Loud And Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer |
The Memory Keepers Daughter by Kim Edwards
• Nineteen Minutes by Jodi Picoult
• The Storyteller by Jodi Picoult
• A Casual Vacancy by J.K Rowling
•The Chaos Walking trilogy by Patrick Ness
•The Time Of Our Singing by Richard Powers
•Eat, Pray, love by Elizabeth Gilbert
•Stolen by Lucy Christopher
•The Sky Is Everywhere by Jandy Nelson
Wonder by RJ Palacio

THERE was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
The earth, and every common sight,
To me did seem
Apparell’d in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream. 5
It is not now as it hath been of yore;—
Turn wheresoe’er I may,
By night or day,
The things which I have seen I now can see no more.

The rainbow comes and goes, 10
And lovely is the rose;
The moon doth with delight
Look round her when the heavens are bare;
Waters on a starry night
Are beautiful and fair; 15
The sunshine is a glorious birth;
But yet I know, where’er I go,
That there hath pass’d away a glory from the earth.

Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song,
And while the young lambs bound 20
As to the tabor’s sound,
To me alone there came a thought of grief:
A timely utterance gave that thought relief,
And I again am strong:
The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep; 25
No more shall grief of mine the season wrong;
I hear the echoes through the mountains throng,
The winds come to me from the fields of sleep,
And all the earth is gay;
Land and sea 30
Give themselves up to jollity,
And with the heart of May
Doth every beast keep holiday;—
Thou Child of Joy,
Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy 35

Ye blessèd creatures, I have heard the call
Ye to each other make; I see
The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee;
My heart is at your festival, 40
My head hath its coronal,
The fulness of your bliss, I feel—I feel it all.
O evil day! if I were sullen
While Earth herself is adorning,
This sweet May-morning, 45
And the children are culling
On every side,
In a thousand valleys far and wide,
Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm,
And the babe leaps up on his mother’s arm:— 50
I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!
—But there’s a tree, of many, one,
A single field which I have look’d upon,
Both of them speak of something that is gone:
The pansy at my feet 55
Doth the same tale repeat:
Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The Soul that rises with us, our life’s Star, 60
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar:
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come 65
From God, who is our home:
Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
Shades of the prison-house begin to close
Upon the growing Boy,
But he beholds the light, and whence it flows, 70
He sees it in his joy;
The Youth, who daily farther from the east
Must travel, still is Nature’s priest,
And by the vision splendid
Is on his way attended; 75
At length the Man perceives it die away,
And fade into the light of common day.

Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own;
Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind,
And, even with something of a mother’s mind, 80
And no unworthy aim,
The homely nurse doth all she can
To make her foster-child, her Inmate Man,
Forget the glories he hath known,
And that imperial palace whence he came. 85

Behold the Child among his new-born blisses,
A six years’ darling of a pigmy size!
See, where ‘mid work of his own hand he lies,
Fretted by sallies of his mother’s kisses,
With light upon him from his father’s eyes! 90
See, at his feet, some little plan or chart,
Some fragment from his dream of human life,
Shaped by himself with newly-learnèd art;
A wedding or a festival,
A mourning or a funeral; 95
And this hath now his heart,
And unto this he frames his song:
Then will he fit his tongue
To dialogues of business, love, or strife;
But it will not be long 100
Ere this be thrown aside,
And with new joy and pride
The little actor cons another part;
Filling from time to time his ‘humorous stage’
With all the Persons, down to palsied Age, 105
That Life brings with her in her equipage;
As if his whole vocation
Were endless imitation.

Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie
Thy soul’s immensity; 110
Thou best philosopher, who yet dost keep
Thy heritage, thou eye among the blind,
That, deaf and silent, read’st the eternal deep,
Haunted for ever by the eternal mind,—
Mighty prophet! Seer blest! 115
On whom those truths do rest,
Which we are toiling all our lives to find,
In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave;
Thou, over whom thy Immortality
Broods like the Day, a master o’er a slave, 120
A presence which is not to be put by;
To whom the grave
Is but a lonely bed without the sense or sight
Of day or the warm light,
A place of thought where we in waiting lie; 125
Thou little Child, yet glorious in the might
Of heaven-born freedom on thy being’s height,
Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke
The years to bring the inevitable yoke,
Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife? 130
Full soon thy soul shall have her earthly freight,
And custom lie upon thee with a weight,
Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life!

O joy! that in our embers
Is something that doth live, 135
That nature yet remembers
What was so fugitive!
The thought of our past years in me doth breed
Perpetual benediction: not indeed
For that which is most worthy to be blest— 140
Delight and liberty, the simple creed
Of childhood, whether busy or at rest,
With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast:—
Not for these I raise
The song of thanks and praise; 145
But for those obstinate questionings
Of sense and outward things,
Fallings from us, vanishings;
Blank misgivings of a Creature
Moving about in worlds not realized, 150
High instincts before which our mortal Nature
Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised:
But for those first affections,
Those shadowy recollections,
Which, be they what they may, 155
Are yet the fountain-light of all our day,
Are yet a master-light of all our seeing;
Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make
Our noisy years seem moments in the being
Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake, 160
To perish never:
Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour,
Nor Man nor Boy,
Nor all that is at enmity with joy,
Can utterly abolish or destroy! 165
Hence in a season of calm weather
Though inland far we be,
Our souls have sight of that immortal sea
Which brought us hither,
Can in a moment travel thither, 170
And see the children sport upon the shore,
And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.

Then sing, ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song!
And let the young lambs bound
As to the tabor’s sound! 175
We in thought will join your throng,
Ye that pipe and ye that play,
Ye that through your hearts to-day
Feel the gladness of the May!
What though the radiance which was once so bright 180
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind; 185
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death, 190
In years that bring the philosophic mind.

And O ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves,
Forebode not any severing of our loves!
Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might;
I only have relinquish’d one delight 195
To live beneath your more habitual sway.
I love the brooks which down their channels fret,
Even more than when I tripp’d lightly as they;
The innocent brightness of a new-born Day
Is lovely yet; 200
The clouds that gather round the setting sun
Do take a sober colouring from an eye
That hath kept watch o’er man’s mortality;
Another race hath been, and other palms are won.
Thanks to the human heart by which we live, 205
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.

536. Ode
Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood

by William Wordsworth

anonymous asked:

hi, I'm homeschooled and I'm in a college level of reading (and all other classes) but I'm starting high school this year so do you know any good books I could do for school that aren't too too easy? have a great day!!

tbh here’s the entirety of what I can remember of my high school reading list along with my critique and recommendations:

  1. Night by Elie Wiesel: A very good historical work about the Holocaust, I’d highly recommend reading it but just be warned that it’s very sad.
  2. The Odessey by Homer: This book was pretty boring but very important in Western culture. You’re just going to have to power through it.
  3. Othello by William Shakespeare: I may be biased because I’m a huge Shakespeare fan, but this is a great play. You should read it and, if you can, watch the movie adaptation with Lawrence Fishburne as Othello (//fans self)
  4. Oedipus Rex by Sophocles: This work is fucked up as all heck but it’s a classic. After you’ve read it, you should watch a great video adaptation here.
  5. All Quiet On The Western Front by Erich Maria Remarque: I got really into this book. It’s a very good World War I novel. Pretty heart-breaking. Highly recommend you read it, but ignore the movie, it was terrible and didn’t do the characters justice.
  6. Nectar in a Sieve by Kamala Markandaya: A look into the lives of an Indian family. A pretty difficult read — the plot was very slow and sad. Read if you have time, I suppose.
  7. A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini: You should read everything by Khaled Hosseini. Everything. He is a fucking genius and this book was a piece of art that had me in absolutely in tears.
  8. My Ántonia by Willa Cather: My Ántonia follows the life of a family moving west in America to populate the plains. The main character meets a European immigrant named Ántonia and his life sorta wildly revolves around her. This was a pretty good book, very very beautiful imagery, I recommend you read it if it sparks your interest.
  9. Like Water For Chocolate by Laura Esquivel: Honestly, sometimes I just think about this book and laugh. It’s set during the Mexican Revolution (the original book was in Spanish) and is from the viewpoint of a young girl that wants to get married but isn’t allowed to because of the family’s traditions. Because it’s magic-realism, it’s kinda ridiculous (there’s a baby that is born in a literal flood of tears and afterwards they collect the tear salt and use it to season their cooking) but a pretty fun read, plus there are recipes at the beginning of each chapter that are really yummy. I recommend you read it if it interests you.
  10. Chronicle of a Death Foretold by Gabriel García Márquez: I didn’t understand anything about the plot of this book, but it was interesting, I suppose. Also magic realism, though a bit more subtle. Tracks a murder mystery in a small island town. Read it if you have the time.
  11. Fences by August Wilson: Written in play format, showing a poor family of African Americans during the Civil Rights Movement. Highly recommend that you read it — very short, don’t worry.
  12. The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald: alsdfjaoewifasdfjasllajdl just read it don’t ask questions read it and bask in how good it is.
  13. Waiting For Godot by Samuel Beckett: I’ve loved this book for so long —an absurdist fiction in play format. Highly recommend you read, it’s hilarious and sad all in one.
  14. 1984 by George Orwell: A super-good dystopia, very well-written with great characters, 100% should read.

If anyone else has recommendations, feel free to add them.