Bungou Stray Dogs Characters and Their Real Prototypes
1. Nathaniel Hawthorne — one of the first and the most universally recognized masters of American literature. He made a great contribution to the genre of novel and introduced elements of allegory and symbolism into the literature. Was in the spiritual Brook Farm commune. Was fond of the theory of transcendentalism. His famous work is ‘The Scarlet Letter’ (Scarlet Letter)
2. Margaret Mitchell — an American writer, author of ‘Gone With the Wind’ (Gone With the Wind)
3. Lucy Montgomery — Canadian writer, known for her serial of books about redhead orphan girl Anne Shirley. Her famous works are ‘Anne of Green Gables’, ‘Anne of Avonlea’, ‘The Story Girl’ (Anne of Abyssal Red)
4. John Steinbeck — an American prose writer, author of many world famous works and short stories: 'The Grapes of Wrath’, 'Eden of the East’ (Grapes of Wrath)
5. Francis Scott Fitzgerald — an American writer, the largest representative of the so-called 'lost generation’. He’s known for number of novels and stories about the 'jazz era’ of 1920s and, of course, for his work 'The Great Gatsby’ (The Great Fitzgerald)
6. Howard Lovecraft — an American writer and journalist working in the genres of mysticism, horror and fantasy, combining them in his own style. Ancestor of Myths of Cthulhu. Known for his works ’The Call of Cthulhu’, 'Dagon’, 'The Silver Key’ (The Call of Cthulhu)
7. Mark Twain an American writer, journalist and public figure. His work covers many genres - humor, satire, philosophical fiction, publicism and others. As an author, he took the position of the humanist and democrat. His famous works are 'The Adventures of Tom Swayer’ and 'The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn’ (Huckleberry Finn and Tom Swayer)
8. Louisa May Alcott — an American writer who became famous for her novel 'Little Women’ which was based on her memories about her growing up time with three sisters (The Story of Little Women)
9. Herman Melville — an American writer and seaman, the author of 'Moby Dick, or the Whale’. Wrote not just prose but also poems (Moby Dick)
10. Edgar Allan Poe — an American writer, poet, essayist, literature critic and editor, the representative of American romantism. The creater of modern detective style and genre of psychological prose. He became famous for his novel 'Murders on Morgue St.’ (A Cat on Morgue St.)
By Akaigami via Tumblr
My salty skit is back!!! Thank you sooo much for the brilliant idea @mariavenomania !!! Today’s topic is How these diaplushies feel about winning the top 3 places~~maybe we have to comfort our tsunbaru cuz he is feeling lil down…don’t forget best part is what gift does Ruki receive from Shu?:3
The morning after her father died, the first thing Laura saw upon waking was Bobby, curled up around his Wolverine doll–the one that he’d carried out of the lab, through a sewer, bundled into the fake bottom of a crate in the back of a truck, up the 5, across the deserts of Utah, the Rockies, and the long flat north that came after. He had carried it through these woods, through this fight and this flight, and there he was sleeping, pudgy hands curled close around it.
Laura had read the comics Gabriela and the other nurses had brought in for them. They had been assigned to learn how to read briefs, maps, instruments, but Gabriela had brought Laura comics about heroes.
In the lab, they had taught Delilah how to drag poison from green veins, how to find the sharpest edge at her beck and call, to strangle. The day before, Delilah had shredded the life out of men with a screaming rain of pine needles. She had wrapped long grasses around Rhodes’s ugly bolo tie and dragged him down and down. But that next day, that dawning day, Laura woke up to see Delilah calling small yellow apples down from a tree blooming out of season.
It had been a story in a comic book, Eden. It had been fiction, a fantasy, a dream, a random set of coordinates. Logan had suspected they would find nothing when they got there. He had been sure.
Sometimes promises are fiction. Sometimes they’re written on the backs of twice-folded photographs. Sometimes the nurse with the steadiest hands whispers to you in the middle of the night come with me child, wake up child, curl up in this duffel bag, stay quiet child, believe me child, we’re going, we’re going, I’ll get you somewhere safe.
Laura had curled up in that fabric-walled darkness, clutching her backpack to her chest. She had her ball, the paperwork that was her life writ out, two battered comic books. A photograph with a list of whispered names. They were not supposed to have names any more than they were supposed to have birthdays or comic books or childhoods.
Kind hands were waiting for them at the end of this journey. There was refuge. There were new names, visas and school where no one should bleed for anything except loose teeth and ignored blisters.
Logan had scoffed, and Laura hadn’t listened. She had said her friends’ names over and over. He had pointed to coordinates in a comic book, and she had said her family’s names over and over. She knew, the way Logan never did, the way Logan never would, that some days stories save you. Sometimes a nurse calls you child instead of by number, and gives you flimsy precious pages to read in the dark.
They knew the comic books were comic books. Laura knew, before she ever met Logan and his smelly, hopeless self, that the X-Men were no gods among men. Flimsy pages—she understood flimsy. She understood the way things tore–pages, clothing, skin and ligaments.
But sometimes you can make the story real. “Eden,” they said. They pressed the coordinates hand to hand, whisper to whisper, and they ran. They promised each other, and they found each other there, at coordinates that had been nothing until they made them a waystation, a place to rest. A watchtower.
Laura had carried so little out of that lab. She had the metal that lined her bones. She had her family’s names. She had a set of coordinates in a battered old comic, and she would carry that forever. It wasn’t real, but she was. It wasn’t real, that Eden, that haven, but she had been there.
She had run shrieking into Rictor’s arms. She had cried on Bobby and danced around the hard cracked dirt with him, each swinging the other in wide circles. Logan had slept safe there for the last time. She would carry it forever. Fading, flimsy pages. A tired man with a funny beard.
They would go next over shallow valleys and dry rocky peaks. Delilah would hunt down a deer in the woods, walking silent on fallen leaves and little sprouts, calling death down green and blooming. Rebecca would cook it up over the fire Bobby raised from sparks, and Laura would lie on her back with her hands on her full rounded belly and pretend she was a lion. When they came down from the mountains, the wide low fields would roll out below them for miles. There would be so much sky.
But for now, in this morning, this dawning day–there was a little boy in a wood, who was the safest he’d ever been. There was a little boy in a wood, with a yellow Wolverine doll held to his chest and Laura sat there in the waking light, watching him breathe.
Video and words by @pedromcbride // River of Eden: The Upper Navua River, often dubbed the ‘River of Eden’, slices through the highlands of Fiji’s Viti Levu and is unique not just for its staggering beauty, but for its protected status. That is unusual is this part of the world. In fact, the Navua represents one of the most unique conservation cooperatives in the world, which prevents logging, mining or roads within 200 meters from either side of the upper Navua river’s lapping waters. The small villages that line the Upper Navua looked into the future and decided that a flowing riiver, lined with jungle, is more valuable in the long term than any immediate profits from timber, gravel or even a dam project which some investors have explored as a possibility in the area. To see more, go to @pedromcbride.
“Eleka nahmen nahmen, Ah tum ah tum eleka nahmen…”
This art comes thanks to my awesome roommate Sarah (anacrinecomplex) who SPECIFICALLY requested storyboards!! Here they are! Want so see more Wicked art? ANY donation to the Doommates Patreonor Paypal (email@example.com) will unlock it! THANK YOU SARAH!!!
ALSO once this month’s Patreon money rolls through we will have hit $200! That means I’ll be posting a GIF!!!!!
Adrien was… sweet. Truth be told, he was completely different to how she’d imagined the son of her idol to be. Aside from his exceedingly good looks, you wouldn’t have been able to tell he was a former teen heartthrob. He was too humble even, dare she think it, shy. He seemed not to get out much, which made sense given his post-grad status.
Despite that, Marinette was determined for him to have a good time. After all, she’d been a member of the Gaming Club since her first year and was incredibly proud of the club it’d become in the years since. It had taken a lot of hard work on her part, along with her friends’ efforts. They’d worked as a team and the benefits had sewn themselves into a club where every type of gamer was welcome and celebrated. It was why one week they could have a DDR competition and the next week a classic board games night.
“Earth to Mari?”
Marinette blinked, dazed, snapping out of her musings when Nino waved a hand in front of her face.
Part 2 is nearing completion!!! I’m so stoked about this collab!!!
In the latest chapter, Tsukiyama makes a conspicuous reference to the garden of Eden. As I’ve made a post about before [x] there are other places in Tokyo Ghoul that can be considered a lost Eden, such as Anteiku to Kaneki.
The meaning of the name Anteiku is unknown, however it can be written as 安定区 in Kanji which literally means “peaceful ward” or “harmony zone”. It is a place, unlike the other wards that encourages nonviolent ghouls to live in harmony with humans. It’s a small paradise far removed from the world, and represents an ideal lifestyle that its inhabitants try to live, it is Eden.
Chapter 126 where Anteiku begins to make its last stand against the CCG is even named “Original Sin” after the first betrayal of mankind which caused them to be forced out of Eden.
In this regard though, Tsukiyama refers to the ability to simply dwell on the surface as a lost Eden. Even though beforehand, ghouls were hunted down same as ever, just with less efficiency.
“She doesn’t have to be all gussied up,” he raved about her. “She’s wonderful just as she is.”
But Pier’s strict Italian mother didn’t approve of her daughter dating a non-Catholic, and James said, “I wouldn’t marry her unless I could take care of her properly. And I don’t think I’m emotionally stable enough to do so right now.”
She soon wed singer Vic Damone, and a heartbroken James was seen outside the church on his motorcycle on their wedding day. “He couldn’t believe it was going to happen,” Lew
James Dean’s close friend says. “He needed to see it with his own eyes.”
On September 10, 1971, at age 39, Pier Angeli died in her home of a barbiturate overdose. In a letter to a friend just before her death, Pier said “…My love died at the wheel of a Porsche. It’s now been 17 years that I’ve been lonely, desperately lonely. I want to find peace and be free and finally be with my father and Jimmy again.”