scribbles to novels

Consider Jim Kirk being a secret fan of romance novels, anywhere from the good, well put together stories to the trashy, raunchy world bending ones. He and Janice have a book club.  Bones accidentally attends one and only one meeting.


@hooded-and-cloaked that, my friend, is Eli Vanto. He is a character in the new Thrawn novel, an utterly delightul and longsuffering Imperial cinnamon roll, our first confirmed certified country boy complete with twangy drawl, and Thrawn is his biggest fan.

We have zero physical description of him in the book, so everyone is just doing their own take on him and what he looks like. This is mine. <3



Casa de Lava is a 1994 film by Portuguese filmmaker Pedro Costa. 35 years old at the time, he traveled to the islands of Cape Verde in the Atlantic Ocean to shoot this second feature. During the course of the production preparation, he compiled what he saw, what he read, his many ideas and images into a scrapbook instead of a screenplay. Paintings, movie stills, letters, newspaper articles, scribbles, quotes from novels, postcards, lines of dialogue, snapshots that guided him throughout the shooting of the film and that he continued – and finished – after returning to Lisboa. Casa de Lava, his second feature, shot on the Island of Fogo in Cabo Verde, was shown in Cannes, Un Certain Regard, in 1994. His other feature films include Ossos, In Vanda’s Room and Where Does Your Hidden Smile Lie?, on the work of Danièle Huillet and Jean-Marie Straub.

( Edie Sedgwick, par là )

tremordragon  asked:

How about NaLu and #6 for the kiss meme thing?

#6 - I’m sorry kiss

I still can’t seem to grasp the concept of a max word limit jfc

They’d had a fight that morning.

It hadn’t been their first fight – they argued over little thing all the time – but it had definitely been their first blow-up fight. They’d made each other so angry that she’d stormed into their bedroom and began scribbling down ideas for her novel and Natsu had gone for a walk in the pouring rain.

But that had been three hours ago and he still wasn’t back.

Lucy stared down at the papers on her desk, littered with angry ink blots and scratched out phrases.

They hadn’t even been fighting about anything serious, which was the kicker. Most of their arguments came down to money, sex, or family-related business. But this had been something different entirely and they’d blown it out of proportion like stupid kids.

It was both their faults, she knew.

Her eyes stung and she rubbed her nose before crumpling up the papers and tossing them into the trash. She usually liked to write when she was upset but now she just wasn’t in the mood for it…

The only thing on her mind was Natsu. He hadn’t come home yet and she felt sick with worry.

But, as if he’d known, their bedroom door was kicked open second later and he stood in their doorway. Lucy turned on a surprised gasp, rubbing her eyes, and then gawked at him. He was soaking wet from the rain, his hair plastered to his forehead, and he stared at her with equal parts anxiety and hesitation – like he wanted to touch her but didn’t know if he should.

Lucy didn’t wait to see what he’d do.

She stood and pushed her chair back. “Natsu, I’m sorry – ”

And then he was in front of her, grabbing her face and kissing her. Though his hands were rough, his lips were warm and soft. They sipped her skin, tasting her, whispering his apologies into her mouth with a fervency that he couldn’t explain with words. Water dripped from his hair onto her face, cold to his warm, and Lucy found herself silently crying.

He tasted like rain and familiar hot spices, a weird combination. But a good one.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped, pulling away. He rested his forehead against hers, his hands falling from her cheeks to her shoulders where he squeezed. “I’m real sorry, Lucy. I was a jerk.”

Lucy only shook her head and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I was a jerk, too,” she whispered. “Can we…start over?”

Natsu hugged her tight, nodding.

And by the end of the day, the two couldn’t even remember what the fight had been about.


“A Novel” by Noel Fielding; from Scribblings of a Madcap Shambleton:

“  Kim dragged the huge Chinese shark up three flights of stairs into the Egyptian Palace. It was still breathing as he smashed its head in with a Chelsea Boot.
 “Typical of you.” Jason Barked. “Your voice is a racing car.”
“Yum yum times.” Kim mumbled laughing to himself and turning away.
“That’s a hammerhead shark.” Said Jason, hitting the hammerhead with a hammer. The bones inside the thick rubber skin started to break into small pieces until the shark became a long grey bag full of junk balls. Boney puzzle pieces sloshing around inside the blue sleeping bag with fins. The eyes were still working and shifted in their sockets from my face to Jason’s as if watching an exciting tennis match. The shark didn’t exist and neither did I nor Jason.  “