- “Alright who pressed the self destruct button? ”
- “I can soundly assure you he’s 90% dead.”
- “Does anyone have a spare blowtorch.”
- “If we’re about to die right now I want you the know…”
- “So I may have used poison instead of sugar.”
- “What if I kissed you right now?”
- “You know what I changed my mind I’m not having kids.”
- “I probably should have though about the consequences of selling my soul first.”
- “There’s a perfectly good reason for all of these kittens.”
- “Don’t act like you’ve never seen a dead person talking before.”
- “Put your hands somewhere useful.”
- “So I’m either in hell or the heaters been left on for too long.”
- “I told you this would be a bad idea.”
Came into work today to my coworkers discussing how terrible sugar is and how it’s the reason why everyone’s so unhealthy, and I just about lost my shit because **Reminder to our society obsessed with diet culture** sugar is not the ~Devil~!! We all need sugar aka glucose for our bodies to carry out cellular respiration so our bodies can create the ATP needed to transfer chemical energy to other cells throughout our bodies so they can do all the cool things they need to do to survive like protein synthesis, cellular repair, DNA replication, muscle fiber contraction, and operating transmembrane ion pumps. Sugar is a vital nutrients that our bodies need to be healthy and functional!! You will not be rewarded a ~Gold Star~ of health for obsessively restricting your sugar intake!!
true fact according to john’s blog thob takes place literally just days after the whole irene adler business finishes so you have sherlock, fresh off of watching a woman ruin her own life by “letting her heart rule her head” and having just saved her from getting her head chopped in karachi, and he comes back home and john is pulling such moves as trying to book a double and not denying that they’re together and drinking coffee he doesn’t even like and sherlock basically loses his entire shit because he already knows john is his vulnerability (a la the great game) and he doesn’t want himself to be john’s downfall so he starts pushing john away at the exact same time that john decides to actively start trying to close the gap, and the crux of the mystery becomes the fact that the poison wasn’t in the sugar and that sherlock made a mistake and then moriarty comes back as soon as they’re back in london and the path to reichenbach has already been laid and they never get the time to figure it out
“I want a little sugar in my bowl”: narrative deconstruction in “A Series of Unfortunate Events”
Earlier this year (Link), we presented the first half
of our takedown on the sugar bowl mystery. Now that we’ve gotten all the plot
elements out of the way, it’s time to approach the solution in on a literary
level. If there is, indeed, a solution to the sugar bowl mystery, what kind of
solution a writer such as Daniel Handler would choose? Studying the series on a
more thematical level gives very interesting results. If there’s one thing “A
Series Of Unfortunate” does well, it’s making sure that the narrative fits the
narration, that the plot fits the style (and vice-versa). Lemony Snicket uses
absurdist humor, and his characters live in an absurd world.
We can’t prove that the sugar bowl really is
empty, of course. What we can prove, however, is that an empty sugar bowl
wonderfully suits the hallmarks that made “A Series Of Unfortunate Events” such a
for anon, who requested #2 with adrinette! i hope you enjoy this, lovely ♥
It was a play.
It was just a play.
“Do you believe in soulmates?”
It was just play-acting for the crowd at their backs, and it meant nothing.
And if he told himself that enough times, Adrien thought as Marinette reeled him in with her eyes alone, then maybe, one day, he’d start to believe it.
He didn’t have ‘one day’ though; this was the one and only showing of the play the drama club had worked on all year, and like hell was Adrien going to fall out of character just because Marinette was spectacularly talented.
He somehow remained stoic enough to pass for ‘Felix’ as Marinette tiptoed up to him, those blue eyes glowing radioactive in the stage lights.
“Do you ever just… meet someone?” she murmured, just loud enough to be picked up by their microphones, making every hair on his scalp stand straight up as she trailed her fingertips from the corner of his jaw to his chin. “And think… ‘I was waiting for you’?”
Everyone stared at the youngest Baudelaire, who was wearing an expression so unfathomable that even her siblings could not tell what she was thinking. “One more thing?” Count Olaf repeated, staring down at Sunny. “What could that be?”
The two eldest Baudelaires looked at their sister, and felt a cold ripple in their stomachs, as if a stone had somehow been dropped straight into the siblings. It is very difficult to make one’s way in this world without being wicked at one time or another, when the world’s way is so wicked to begin with. When unfathomable situations arose in the lives of the Baudelaires, and they did not know what to do, the children often felt as if they were balancing very delicately on top of something very fragile and very dangerous, and that if they weren’t careful they might fall a very long way into a sea of wickedness. Violet felt this delicate balance when she offered to help Count Olaf escape, even though it meant that she and her siblings could escape, too, and Klaus felt this delicate balance when he helped Olaf unlock the laundry room door, even though the sugar bowl was not to be found inside. And of course, all three Baudelaire orphans felt this delicate balance when they thought about Dewey Denouement, and that terrible instant when the weapon in their hands brought about his death. But as Sunny answered Count Olaf’s question, the clock of the Hotel Denouement struck two Wrong!s , and her siblings wondered if they had lost their balance at last and were tumbling away from all the noble people in the world.
“Burn down hotel,” Sunny said, and all three Baudelaire orphans felt as if they were falling.
– The Penultimate Peril
I was rereading The Penultimate Peril last night for nostalgia sake and enjoying every bit of poison dart ever mentioned (because i still marveled at how Daniel Handler hinted this plot point without ever directly stating the whole truth - typical, i know, but i’ll always love him for it), breaking my heart over Dewey’s death (and how the Baudelaires’ must felt at that moment), and loving how smart Sunny Baudelaire was.
I mean, about the ‘burn down hotel’ part.
The way she figured out they needed to burn the down hotel before her siblings, they way she realized what Kit Snicket wanted (manipulated) them into doing before her siblings did.
I mean, I love that Violet’s inventor skills and how she got the boat off the roof, and I love how Klaus deducted that the sugar bowl wasn’t where Olaf thought it was, and how he cracked the code, but on the other hand, we already seen Violet and Klaus practicing their inventing/research skills countless times before. I admire them for it, but I’m even more in awe of Sunny’s quick thinking - it’s not exactly one of the VFD-skills/hobbies (inventing / research / cartography / fungus) that she’d practiced for many years, and yet she still reached this conclusion of what they needed to do so fast.
When Tetsuo slipped back into the office on the morning of
October 10th, everything sat exactly as he’d had left it, as though
nothing had changed. The papers on his desk had been left untouched. They were
printed copies of casefiles Tetsuo had been picking through before he left work
on the evening he encountered Reigen, the evening he’d entered the Mogami
house, the evening he’d learned the truth of what had been happening to his
hazy memory, of what had been inside him.
Tetsuo skimmed a hand over the papers, as though to check
that they were even real. They didn’t seem real, nor did they look it. They
felt like they belonged in a photograph, filed away in some strictly “before”
time of his life, when now he was so terrifyingly mired in “after”. The two weren’t
compatible. Nothing could possibly exist from the time when he felt safe.
“Hey stranger. First day on the job?”
Except for Isa.
Tetsuo glanced up from his papers. Isa stood at the edge of
his desk, weight leaning slightly into the hip she used to support the stack of
papers held between her body and right arm. The stack was easily two inches
thick, and Isa did not use her right hand to support it. Both hands were
occupied with near identical Styrofoam white cups. Tetsuo craned his neck to
see into them. The contents of one were a swirly, milky beige. The other was
“Sorry lady. I may be new, but I’m happily married,” Tetsuo
answered, catching up with her teasing.
“Haha,” Isa responded, her voice flat. “You’re not my type