#inexhaustible sources of magic

[herawell]

hi!

made up fic title 1: 'like a moth to flame'

made up fic title 2: little slices of death

like a moth to flame

Summary: If the bridge was without power for three and a half minutes because Hera was distracted running diff algorithms on the image of Maxwell backlit by the blue light of the star and the image of Maxwell haloed by the blue light of the monitors, nobody needs to know.

little slices of death

Summary: The Hephaestus is rotting from the inside out, one crack at a time.

[herawell]

tags via @inexhaustible-sources-of-magic

More random tropes that I fucking love: Becoming the mask you wore.

Like oh shit, this character who was sent to spy somewhere under a false identity suddenly realises they've started to genuinely become the person they claimed to be? Someone who's been telling the same lies about who they are for so long that they're actually forgetting that the story isn't true? Finding themselves genuinely doing the things they pretend to do in front of people, when they're alone and nobody's watching? Answering to a name that wasn't supposed to be theirs without thinking?

Ooohh-hoh-hoh, you lost track of yourself in pretending to be someone else? You were only supposed to impersonate somebody, a plausible background and a name you came up with on the spot, and now that the people you were supposed to infiltrate have become your true companions? You lost yourself in the game you played, and no you no longer know who you truly are, and where your true loyalties lie? And both sides would mark you a traitor if you came out with the truth. On a scale of one to ten, how bad did you fuck up.

Fuck that is a good trope. Never seen it done badly. Pour that shit on a table and I'll chop it into lines and snort it.

[pentanguine]

Found in a little free library near me today…possibly a sign to complete the Wimsey-Vorkosigan-Lymond trifecta

[blackknight-100]

hi hi 🌧️for the WIP asks

Thank you for the ask! <3

🌧 Share something angsty from your wip.

So, this one is from The Daughter of the Mountains, which is a fic about Durga killing Mahisha and coming into her power. This is set right after Mahadeva tells her about Sati and belief that they are destined to wed.

Gauri hears him out in silence. She is not surprised at this morbid history, nor even at the revelation of their nature - in fact, she startles herself with her lack of fear.

Hara is still talking, low and quiet as ever, the warm timbre of it raising the hairs on her arms. "It is how it is, Gauri," he says, "and what has happened is past. I tell you this so you will never hear it elsewhere and be afraid - I will not put supposed destiny over you. It is only that I mislike being kept in the dark, and this was kept from me for a long time."

"Hari knew, I suppose?"

Hara laughs. It is soft and sad, tinged with acceptance of betrayal, and Gauri knows.

"Perhaps," she says, "he does this so you will not tell me."

"Maybe," Hara shrugs. "He is quaint, like all of us. But I will not keep such things from you."

At least, Gauri thinks bitterly, someone is on my side.

But not in the way she wants. Not in the way they are destined to be.

They sit together in silence for a while. Gauri tries to turn her mind from him - what woman, indeed, would yearn so shamelessly for a man so austere and ascetic? But the more she wills away, the more they come: these distant, unreachable dreams. Her and him, in some shadowed cave upon her frosty home, warm in each other's arms, watching the falling snow. Her and him, hunting for the last of winter's stores, kneeling together to scrape the meat and cure the hide. Her and him, and him and her, together, for all of eternity.

Hara stands, and for a moment Gauri thinks he knows her mind, but then he bows and says, "I will leave you to your training. Do not be afraid, lady. Fate or no fate, there is nothing I will seek from you."

Gauri nods and watches him walk away. What a gentlemanly thing to do! - she is certain there is no dearth of men or asuras (or even devas) who would not have hesitated to take advantage of this situation to lay claim upon her. Her father and brother would not stand for it, but the devas, who upheld order, who were cornered and angry and homeless and lost, would. And then, if they could not be convinced, they would die, and Gauri would wed some stranger still draped in her father and brother's funeral clothes.

In this, Hara is exemplary, like in all other things. He has spared her great troubles and terrible misfortunes. Gauri should be grateful.

Gauri is not. As she watches him leave, all she does is long for her cheek upon his hoary skin, and his dreadlocks between her fingers. The sun sets as he disappears into the shadow of the forest, and Gauri, like some lovelorn maiden, presses her hand to her face and weeps.

[jupiteriancore]

MEET THE CLUBHOUSE: CHARLIE.

the sun disappeared below the horizon, making way for a sky that was now a beautiful mix of yellow, red, and orange. the slight breeze—which was weird for early september in california, but welcomed—picked up, sending a chill down charlie's spine. her hands flew up to rub her arms in effort to warm up, but it did absolutely nothing to fight off the chilliness she was starting to feel. "damn me for not bringing a jacket," she thought, although much to charlie's own defense–it was 95 degrees earlier. charlie's fingers messed with the hem of her shirt as she continued walking along the rugged sidewalk, the steps of her sneakers sounding in a quiet, gentle beat.

another round of her mother's resentment induced rage had sent charlie out the door—narrowly dodging the glass vase that had been hurled at her as she reached for the doorknob. "you're the worst thing to happen to me!" was the last thing she heard before ceramic shards scattered near her, with some landing in her fluffy, honey colored hair. charlie spent a grueling five minutes picking them out after she left, the tiny pieces of glass occasionally pricking her fingers, leaving tiny dots of blood in their wake.

charlie's life had been marked with rejection since the day she was born. her father didn't want her, ending his affair with her mother the moment he found out she was pregnant. her mother doesn't want her—blaming her for her father's absence as if she asked to be here or to be created. but it was no use trying to explain that important fact; her mother would continue to see her as the one who drove the man she loved away, as the unnecessary burden. it would have been a harrowing realization if charlie hadn't numbed herself to the sting of being rejected by the person she unironically still loved unconditionally.

charlie broke out into a sprint the moment she made it onto the familiar street. justice's grandmother's house sat in the middle of the cul-de-sac, the porch light serving as a beacon of hope in her otherwise dim world. her feet didn't slow down until they touched the steps leading up to the front porch, and charlie leaned against the post as she tried to catch her breath. her eyes caught a glimpse of christian through the screen door as he sat on the couch with melli and joshua, their eyes glued to the laptop on the coffee table.

as if he could immediately sense her presence, christian looked up, a look of concern etching across his features. "charlie? what brings you here at this hour, mate?"

"no reason. just missed you guys," she lied, offering christian a small smile that didn't reach her eyes as she opened the screen door and walked inside. "mind if i spend the night? it's been a minute."

christian kept his eyes on her for a moment, an eyebrow raised at her obvious lie. he knew there was something wrong, but he'd witnessed charlie's conversations with the rest of the house enough to understand that trying to pry would simply lead to her changing the subject until the concern was dropped. "you know you don't have to ask, of course."

"thanks, i'll be quiet." charlie avoided christian's gaze as she kicked off her sneakers and left them by the front door. despite being 22 years old, it made her feel like a child. she knew what he was thinking–knew that he knew she was hiding something, but she didn't want to talk about it. the house was her safety zone; all she needed was the peace that she never experienced while under her mother's roof. besides, she might end up letting the carefully built dam break if she told anyone here about it.

and she refused to let that happen.

[hopepunk-humanity]

Hi! just wanted to say, that i come to your blog sometimes when life is life, and things go up and down as is wont to do. its a good place, for hope. and i just wanted to let you know. Also i have a rec, 'A psalm for wild built' by Becky Chambers, not exactly hopepunk, but something like it? at least it gave me hope so here i am reccing it.

have a nice day/night ahead!

Thank you! I wish you likewise.

[journclist]

for @starlcved​ cont from here.

the curse falling from her friend's lips is enough to catch her off guard, bringing that half laugh to the surface again. if possible, she leans further into annie's embrace, wishing that this piercing pain in her chest would fade. " i hate that i kept hoping for so long, " she mutters, the words tasting sour in her mouth. " i hate that i even cared enough for it to hurt this much. " her eyes close tightly, straining against the burning sensation prickling there. " what was i thinking? " the question is a bitter demand from herself, ashamed to have been so willing to look past what had been right in front of her for years, even in the wake of her own brother's death. the moments seem to gather from her memory to the forefront of her mind, a display of every instance she's dissected time and time again. " i've just always thought... there was something, some purpose, some reason... " banishing the memories from her own mind with effort, she forces a shaky breath into her lungs and opens her eyes to return her vigil of the inky surface of the lake. " but maybe i just saw what i wanted to see. maybe i was reading too far into it all. "

[discommunicator]

Smelter Witch Helkett

She runs her own foundry like Troy and while Troy's workshop features custom-made heavy tools by hot forging, Helkett's specializes in mass producing smaller sundries and machine parts by casting

The source material for the process is her body of course, since she is a magically inexhaustible living molten iron itself

Helkett's molten iron body is as hot as it's supposed to, but no worries, she can conjure the heat insulating 'witch skin' at will like her peers and has supernatural perception that catches her surroundings, so she doesn't burn everything that she bumps into

[herawell]

On here for a bit, so for the OC asks for Jag or Vijayamalini (or both!) from Druadal: 6) If your OC is in a fantasy setting, what profession would they be in the modern day?

8) What hobbies does your OC have? What do they do to unwind?

16) How's their relationship with their parents? Are they alive?

24) Can they play any instruments? If so, what do they play?

Vijayamalini

6) If your OC is in a fantasy setting, what profession would they be in the modern day?

Vijayamalini is politically brilliant and good at PR in my royalty setting, so I guess in the modern day she’d have some similar political position. Perhaps if she’s able to get treatment for her chronic illness (which I need to work out the details of), then she might go into a more physically demanding career.

8) What hobbies does your OC have? What do they do to unwind?

Jaya has an intellectual/political circle of friends she enjoys writing letters to, both as part of being queen and for her own enjoyment, since she cannot travel often because of her health. In fact just as I was writing this, I had a stroke of genius that one of her pet projects as queen is improving the mail system in Druadal because she relies on it to maintain connections with the friends she cannot visit.

16) How's their relationship with their parents? Are they alive?

Right now all I know about Jaya’s parents is that she is the eldest daughter of a duchess, her mother is the one with the noble title in her own right, and her mother at least is still alive when she marries Jag. I might work out more details about them later.

I do know that her chronic illness runs in the family, although I’m leaning towards both her parents not having it, and that they were well aware before she was born that she might inherit it. She was raised with an emphasis on honing her political skills since she is occasionally bedridden due to her health, and there were questions about whether she would be able to have children. It’s a similar approach she and Jag take to raising their youngest son Prabodh. He inherits a milder form of the illness, which nevertheless prevents him from doing many physical activities, and they make sure to encourage his strengths in other areas, rather than allow him to mope.

24) Can they play any instruments? If so, what do they play?

She can play several instruments as part of her noble education, but music isn’t one of her passions. I imagine one of them is the Druadalian equivalent of a veena. Jaya does encourage her daughter Manjeera’s interest in dancing.

[f1-unpopularopinions]

drop those papers on the ethics of rpf bestie

Thank you this is my favorite thing! Not nearly a comprehensive list but a decent starting point. Let me know if access is a problem

References:

The Intimate Fandoms of Men’s Hockey Real Person Fanfiction by Mari Elise Vist

The Affective Power of Intimacy: A Case Study of a Men’s Hockey Real Person Fan Fiction’s Literary and Social Contexts by Lina Vermeer

The Real K-pop idols of fanfiction: reclaiming "real person" fanfiction as K-pop industry practice by Sooyun Hong - a thesis

Real body, fake person: Recontextualizing celebrity bodies in fandom and film by Melanie Piper

How real are people? : sports-centric real person fiction between mainstream and fanfiction by Judith Louise Tuffentsammer

Reading real person fiction as digital fiction: An argument for new perspectives by Judith Fathallah

Finding the Path Through the Ethics of Fanfiction by Victoria Fidler

Chapter 8: ​​”In the End Its All Made Up The Ethics of Real Person Fanfiction” by Jennifer McGee in Communication Ethics, Media & Popular Culture (Vol. 9). Peter Lang

Fanfiction, not just RPF

“Write the story you want to read”: world-queering through slash fanfiction creation by Diana Floegel

The Alienation of Gaze — the Construction and Gender Practice in the Fanfiction by Xuan Yu & Yu Han

"Slight dub-con but they both wanted it hardcore": Erotic fanfiction as a form of cultural activism around sexual consent by Milena Popova

An Inexhaustible Source of Magic: How Fanfiction Turned One World Into A Thousand by Taylor Pernini

Culture and Community Online - How Fanfiction Creates a Sense of Social Identity by Reshaping Popular Media by Kellye Ann Guinan (this is a longer thesis but really interesting!)

Television and Fanfiction Online: Finding Identity, Meaning, and Community by Erin B. Waggoner

Loving Fanfiction: Exploring the Role of Emotion in Online Fandoms by Brit Kelley - this is a fascinating book, got access through the public library

The Erotics of Fanfiction: Queering Fans, Works, and Communities in Modern Internet Fandom by Alexandra Garner

Writing Oneself into Someone Else’s Story – Experiments With Identity And Speculative Life Writing in Twilight Fan Fiction by Sanna Lehtonen

[n-i-m-u-e]

Lucemond bodyswap!AU

This plot was quite popular when I was a teenager (before the dinosaurs), but I've hardly ever seen it in this fandom. And a few days ago I literally had this dream (yes, I resumed taking antidepressants this month and usually when you start taking them, you have very vivid, detailed and interesting dreams at first) I couldn't let go of the idea.

Let's imagine that Rhaenyra and her family stay in KL until Viserys' death to prevent the usurper from taking her throne, and then just stay there because she's now queen. And so, with the help of some bizarre Valyrian magic really don't care the causes, only the effects, Luke and Aemond swap bodies and, according to the classic of the genre, cannot tell anyone about it (although Helaena knows anyway). And of coooourse, they have to work together to get everything back to the way it was.

-----------------------∞----------------------

for me, this is such an inexhaustible endless source of dramedy:

Aemond’s first thought when he looks in the mirror and sees his nephew's reflection is 'What can I do with this horribly messy hair?'

Luke wakes up in Aemond’s chambers and struggles with his new size, bumping into and tripping over everything until he finally reaches the room he’d fallen asleep in the night before, already covered in bruises. There, he sees himself—or is it his body?—turning the room upside down, searching for something. Luke timidly asks what Aemond is looking for, and with a look of wild madness in his eye, Aemond barks: “A comb!”

Luke, on the other hand, doesn't care about Aemond’s hair at all. It annoyed him how long it is, although he's mesmerized by its softness and color. Especially the color, since he’s imagined countless times what it would be like if he’d been born with Targaryen hair. But he can’t deal with the long strands and just ties them into a messy… something. Aemond nearly has a stroke when he sees this vandalism for the first time.

They agree to call a truce until they find out how it happened, but they constantly fight for various reasons. Mostly because Aemond is the one who panics dramatising overreacts about the situation. Luke, as an empathetic child without emotional constipation, even tries to calm him down. But, as expected, only encounters rudeness in return. The uncle says that he has never felt so defective before, even after he had lost an eye. He also says that he is very worried that Luke-in-his-body will now disgrace Aemond with ‘such idiotic expressions’ after Luke-in-his-body cannot hide the obvious resentment on his face.

Their attempts to behave like the other are rather clumsy. Mainly because Lucerys has never really hidden his emotions, while Aemond has never really shown his.

Aemond is shocked to find that in his sister’s family, displays of physical affection without any serious reason are perfectly normal. On the first dinner of being Luke, Aemond reflexively twists Jace’s arm when he tries to ruffle his hair unexpectedly. Later, when Rhaenyra, noticing something is off with "her sweet boy", pulls him close in a gentle hug to figure out what’s wrong, Aemond is beyond errored. And let’s not even talk about how the poor guy feels when Daemon slaps him on the back and asks for his opinion on something. Yes, used to being fairly distant from his own family, Aemond is really stunned by the intensity of the interconnectedness in his older sister's household.

After all this, he goes to complain to Luke, who is also in shock and distressed about 'Aemond's day', but it's more of a ‘Damn Bitch, You Live Like This?’. He hasn't seen any of his uncle's family all day and no one has even looked for him, except for Sir Christon (and it's a pretty enough nightmare). He tells Aemond that maybe understands why he's such a prick - because he hasn't ever been hugged enough.

Aemond, who can't come up with a plausible reason for not training with Jace, decides that he will quickly defeat his older nephew. But he is annoyed to realise that Luke's body is not as strong and trained as he is used to, and he cannot hold a sword of the weight that Aemond is used to. The fact that Jace is only gently encouraging his “brother” irritates him even more.

In the early morning, Aemond forces his nephew to train with him to learn how to use his new body—instead, Aemond cringes as watches Luke struggle to cope with his own. But after a little while, using each other's advice, they have a good sparring. Aemond is very excited about the possibility that having both eyes and the agility of a small body opens up—is triumphant at his victory. Luke look like he doesn't cares (he really doesn't, because he'd rather be in bed at this hour).

But the real hit for Aemond comes when Damon meets him later that morning and tells him that he saw the fight between him and Luke and is really proud of him because he has ‘unexpectedly good technique’. Aemond's fangirl-daddy-issues-emotions run high, and even the warning that ‘needs to be careful with this one-eyed Hightower cunt, because his extreme niceness is too alarming’ doesn't diminish them. By the end of the day, Aemond is mentally running around with the fact that ‘the Rogue Prince praised my fighting skills.’

Luke laughs for a very long time when hears about this conversation. Because ‘Daemon saw me beat you, and according to him, I fight only slightly better than Joff. Joff is six, uncle. Daemon thought "you" went easy on "me".’

They try to find some information on how to get back into their own bodies in Valyrian manuscripts, but Luke discovers just how terrible his uncle’s pronunciation is when he tries reading something aloud. The search is soon forgotten, as their impromptu speaking lesson stretches late into the evening.

The amount of time they’ve been spending together lately doesn’t go unnoticed and starts raising questions. So, the boys decide to split up for a while and conduct their searches separately.

Luke, who is unbearably bored being Aemond and lacking his discipline, decides to find some entertainment. He’d normally call Jace to fly or invite Rhaena for a walk, but obviously, that’s not an option now. So, he heads to see Helaena, who is delighted to have him visit. Luke confirms that his "quirky aunt" is really sweet, but freezes when she declares she’s 'so glad Aemond can see the underside’.

Later, Luke encounters Aegon too, who makes a comment about Aemond-Luke’s hairstyle. And boy, out of habit, reacts in much the same way as he would if something similar happened between him and Jace—he responds with some kind of small joke. Aegon stares at him as if he’s grown a second head—or at least regrown his second eye. Slowly, Lucerys realizes that his stoic, cold uncle is really just wearing a mask. After all, truly coldblooded people don’t flare up at every little remark.

Aemond, who’s genuinely trying to solve the problem, finds a reference to a book that might be in Dragonstone’s library. Without thinking twice, he decides to fly there. Based on who he looks like now, he thinks no one will find it odd if Lucerys Velaryon spends a few hours in the library at his own home. He heads to the dragonpit to ride Lucerys Velaryon dragon.

But dragons are not humans. Arrax is not at all pleased when some suspicious guy—no matter how much he looks like his rider (this no less suspicious point also needs to be clarified)—tries to approach him and decides to take a few bites out of the pretender. Aemond is rescued by Luke, who is on his way to visit his dragon. Unlike his uncle, he did not assume that Arrax could be fooled by appearances.

Luke angrily tells his uncle that he 'tried to steal someone else's dragon again and almost got hurt.' For the first time since they switched bodies, they get into a real fight, almost ending in blows. But when Aemond sweeps Luke off his feet with a well-placed strike from his “blind side” and and falls on top of him, they have some feelings that are… let's say not typical of a fight, which makes Aemond embarrassed and run away. What can you do—they still teenagers🤷‍♀️

And speaking of teenagers. If you wake up with morning wood while in someone else’s body, is jerking off in such a situation still considered masturbation or already sex? Just asking.

Aemond, isolated from his usual routine and still holding a grudge against Luke, decides to “gather some information on the enemy camp,” as he calls it. In reality, he's simply finding out how Luke is treated by his family. And this simultaneously makes him envious and angry on behalf of his nephew. Because he doesn't like the condescending attitude that thrives on Luke. Now it becomes clearer to him why he once thought the boy was weak and foolish, though in recent days, he’s realised that’s not the case at all. But this condescension causes Lucerys’ impostor syndrome to progress. It doesn't allow him to become stronger.

Also, unexpectedly for himself, Aemond finds that he actually likes his cousins, and even little Joffrey is “a decent kid.” Jacerys stops provoking a dull irritation as long as he’s either silent or far enough away that his words can’t be heard.

For a few days, Aemond and Luke avoid each other. But eventually, Luke comes to make peace and finally apologizes to his uncle, not just for the recent incident, but for everything.

They decide to fly to Dragonstone together because Luke knows how to sneak into the castle. After all, he has slipped out countless times with Jace, Rhaena, and on his own.

TO BE CONTINUED...

[pentanguine]

Worst Books of 2023

5. In Search of a Prince by Toni Shiloh

Whose fault is it: School book club

One thing I will say about this book is that it exceeded my expectations. The writing was decent! The author did actually research West African culture and history! Unfortunately, the book simply cannot escape the fact that a) it’s a plot point for plot point retelling of the Princess Diaries; and b) it’s a Christian romance. The villain is a sexually promiscuous woman born out of wedlock (whose motivations also make no sense), and every romantic scene leaves so much room for Jesus it forgets to leave room for romance. At one point the villain says: “Love is for children and pets. Just like Santa.” Spoilers, the last line of the book is “they would say I loved God, loved my country, and loved my husband,” and when I read that I think I retched.

4. Seducing the Sorcerer by Lee Welch

Whose fault is it: School book club and EBF

Honestly, the first part of this book was good. The characters were well-drawn and sympathetic, they had good chemistry and clear reasons to be interested in each other, and who wouldn’t love the worple horse. And then, somewhere in the second half, it all went to shit. The romance was underwhelming when they actually got together, and the sex was thin on the page and way less intense than what the book (and the baffling Goodreads reviews) had been implying. The political situation quickly went off the rails, before being wrapped up in an ending so neat and tidy Marie Kondo could have written it. Everything that can’t be logically resolved gets conveniently handwaved, and compelling character development goes out the window so the author can abruptly focus on high stakes international conflict. The villain is ultimately defeated by the vague threat of an army of enchanted fabric. In a lifetime first, I’m going to say this book needed less politics and more romance.

3. Devil's Night Dawning by Damien Black

Whose fault is it: Mine :(

I should never have picked it up knowing it was by a straight white man. “Great worldbuilding, truly epic,” said the reviews. “Dark, creepy horror vibes,” said the reviews. “It’s so original,” said the reviews. The great worldbuilding is periodic info-dumping on unimportant historical details by someone who thinks they’re writing LOTR and is actually writing a textbook. The dark, creepy horror vibes would be there if only the author could focus on his alleged main character, a demon hunting monk, for longer than one chapter out of ten. The originality is a religion in which Jesus The Redeemer dies on the cross wheel for our sins, and characters wander around saying “the power of the redeemer compels you.” Throw in a few misogynistic knights who casually murder each other while fetishizing chivalry, one (1) female character who of course has a very nice figure, and a lot of irrelevant POV characters who simply weren’t interesting, and I gave up at page 291.

2. House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski

Whose fault is it: Mine and everyone who’s ever raved about it

I finished this book out of sheer bloody spite, and I wish I hadn’t. Tedious, overly full of itself, impenetrable, opaque, misogynistic, and enmeshed in ideas of machismo and the nuclear family that made it impossible for me to connect with. The truly frustrating thing is that there were many genuinely good moments of skin-tingling horror, but they’re so buried under all the bloated academic hogwash that they failed to make an impact. This book is the guy in your philosophy class who thinks he’s smart but has just never been told to shut up. This book is a male author who thinks he can write women well because he gives them compelling thoughts on sex, motherhood, romance, sex, stripping, modeling, their own bodies, and sex. I would rather live on Ash Tree Lane than read this book again.

All Four Twilight books by Stephanie Meyer

Whose fault is it: EBF

These books are genuinely, appallingly, hilariously, pathetically, bad. As an adult, I try to be charitable to things that I disliked (or in this case, refused to interact with at all) when I was younger, because teenage girls get a lot of shit and the things that they like tend to automatically be labeled cringe, but…these books are actually shit. Not just mediocre, or a little juvenile, or with some notable flaws, but BAD. And they’re not even shockingly sexy! I thought Twilight was the series that parents wanted to protect their innocent children from, in which maidens were ravished by whole covens of vampires, bodices torn, innocence lost, werewolves howling in pleasure, etc. Stephanie Meyer is way too fucking Mormon for that. I’ve never read a less sexy vampire in my life, and yet these were the teen heartthrobs of my youth?? The first book was honestly fun to hate-read, but by the time I got to the fourth one I was just depressed. It opens with Bella feeling genuine dread at her upcoming marriage to “the love of her life” that she’s been manipulated into at the age of 18 against her will, and the idea of this being the thing anyone is obsessing over just makes me sad. It’s just Mormonism with bad writing and worse characterization. Allow me to present my reviews for each:

Twilight: “Such a fucking dumb book.”

New Moon: “A whole lot of nothing happens to the world’s most depressed teenager”

Eclipse: “No plot, just endless rehashes of the same vampires vs. werewolves argument with pedophilia for flavor.”

Breaking Dawn: “The bar was in hell, and she still managed to let me down.”

[blackknight-100]

Squeeeeeeeeeze!!! You've been given a hug! Send this to all the people who you think deserve a hug. Let the hugging begin! 💕

YESSSS HUGS HUGS HUGS <3<3

[jupiteriancore]

"people fear death, and i can't understand why. it's life's grand finale. the final act of a victory, or maybe a tragedy. it's an unknown plunge that's scary for some, a cloak of escape for others." the words hung in the air of the grand hall, echoing off the walls that were covered with cobwebs. maestro stepped out of the shadows, the moonlight casting a silver glow across his face as it pierced the glass of the window that rested above the foyer. he looked around the mansion, its muted colors and faded magnificence a story of sorrow and the centuries it managed to survive.

"when you've seen what i've seen, heard what i have," he continued, his voice a soothing rumble that filled the large room, "you begin to see that it's the living, with their selfishness, cruelty, and greed, that are truly haunted." there was a brief silence before the room erupted in a round of applause, shouts of ghostly agreement coming from one side of the hall, while the other side simply nodded along, quietly dwelling on the memories of when they were once human.

maestro was different. he was immortal, a gift bestowed upon him centuries ago after he died while unknowingly rescuing a high priestess from a group of ruffians. his facial features remained youthful, the same 30-something he was back then, but his brown eyes held a deeper wisdom, a knowledge of a changing world that he never thought could exist. he stumbled upon the mansion some time during the 20th century, its larger-than-life, victorian style standing out in the midst of the graveyard that rested in front of it. it was in this very mansion that he met them: his family.

the ghosts that made up the family were diverse. some new, some old, some way old. they all brought with them a trait that maestro adored, even if he never admitted it. there were a few he held especially dear, the ones who could catch a glimmer of his gentle gaze before the cold indifference returned. there was adelia, a young victorian woman with an undying love for hoop skirts and huge sleeves. she had a motherly kindness that could bring joy to anyone's day. then there was mateo, a former royal advisor to a tyrant of a king that had him killed after he was revealed to be the leader of a citizen-led rebellion. he could never forget boris, a stern but wise old man that kept the entire mansion engrossed with his stories of his life in the 1800's. in the ghosts, maestro found a comfort that he didn't get from outside the walls of the mansion. the gentle gazes he received from his dead friends were vastly different from the sneers and accusations of being a freak from the townspeople that followed him whenever he stepped foot outside.

"are you going to tell them that?" adelia asked, her voice a gentle caress in the midst of impending chaos. maestro didn't say a word as he walked towards the floor-to-ceiling window, his eyes flickering out into the distance. he caught the specks of orange that seemed to be moving closer, the roars of disapproval and hatred muffled by the glass. it was none other than the townspeople, finally deciding to pay them a visit. it took them long enough. maestro had a feeling it was coming sooner or later, he simply didn't know the exact moment. the ghosts gathered around him, their eyes gazing out at the approaching group. there was no fear in sight, but the tension was more than tangible. "what are we going to do?" abigail, the ghost of a once beloved schoolteacher asked. the ghosts all held their breath as they awaited maestro's answer, their eyes flicking between his still form and the window.

"we're going to let them pay us a visit," he said finally, his eyebrows raised in sarcastic amusement, "if they want to be impolite, let them. we'll just have to show them some manners."

[ramayantika]

The dance of the devi

Flowers for the goddess 

in my alta-dyed hands,

I offer them at the lotus feet

of the Mother of the Universe.

***

Gentle blues of the skies move out 

And Surya slowly rises from slumber

in its captivating regal glory,

its golden rays adorning

the Devi’s forehead.

***

I behold the golden complexioned goddess

set in stone with a benevolent smile.

My anklets lay at her feet

with turmeric and vermillion coating

some of those melodious bells.

***

A sweet summer breeze blows by.

A bell jingles and a lotus from her garland

falls to the brown earth at my dust laden feet.

A jingle of bangles and anklets,

A low hum of a mysterious yet beautiful tune,

And a voice sings,

A voice that I can recognize anywhere –

The Devi has risen!

***

Draped in silks and gold,

fragrant garlands around her limbs,

She steps outside to my courtyard,

A very humble stage for the one

who is the abode of this entire Universe.

The sun makes her ornaments gleam, 

yet her moon-like face is the brightest.

My anklets are around her feet

But what truly do I own 

in this illusionary world?

What I receive –

Beauty, intelligence, riches and power,

All comes from her.

***

And by the bright yellows of dawn

I see her dance in my courtyard.

Wherever her feet travel, little blooms arise

and where her hands softly touch,

Golden dust flies.

She twirls round and round

And I see the might cosmic Gods

Swirling around her magnificence.

Her veil, the illusionary veil,

which she playfully casts 

around this world

escapes the clutches 

of her beautiful braided hair.

And now I see. Clearly.

***

She leaps into the air,

Resembling a warrior

and a warrior she is,

for she is the Devi,

The ferocious Bhairavi,

The invincible Durga,

the slayer of Mahishasura.

She is the dark one, Kali,

The slayer of Raktabija.

***

Her dance of grace and elegance

transforms to a dance of death and destruction.

She is Shivatrinayani and Maheshwari.

She leaps and twirls with her trident

and her anklets and the temple bells ring 

harmoniously,

Just like the eternal forces of nature.

Devi is Nitya, the eternal one.

***

I, a mere mortal woman, a devotee

akin to the turmeric and vermillion on her feet

watch the goddess dance in all her glory.

I see all the worlds and this vast universe 

dance with her,

And maybe it is really true:

That everything in the world dances.

Laasya performs in every object,

in the largest to the very smallest.

***

And then I see the radiant one

stretch her palm to me.

I see my world in her hand

And clasp her hand tightly.

Which daughter lets go of her mother’s hand?

So we dance.

***

Stars and galaxies, planets and cosmic bodies,

Fire and snow, gods, demons and mortals,

I see her in everything

And this is the Dance of Realisation.

The music, the drums and the bells slowly fade 

But the dancing soul now awakened

dances in ecstasy.

I see, I hear, I dance, I understand everything now.

***

The Devi twirls, spins, sings, smiles and laughs

And finally heads to her abode, to Shiva, her life.

My life, a thread in her hands,

I now submit to her eternal play 

of this Life’s Dance.

***

I haven't written poetry in a while now. Somehow I couldn't capture this in a story format, it felt bland and very large and long. I didn't like it. The poem format perhaps gives me a little peace to form the vision I once had a few years ago while meditating on the goddess. I will obviously edit this later for the book, but for now here's the first draft poem for the book

Tagging: @swayamev @indiansapphic @jukti-torko-golpo (big thank you to you for the devi content!) @navaratna @rhysaka @krishna-priyatama @krsnaradhika @inexhaustible-sources-of-magic @alhad-si-simran @ramcharantitties @kaal-naagin

[journclist]

@starlcved​ requested this for marigold x.

after finishing a round of shelving,   she’s made her way back to the desk with her fellow volunteer.   she knows of the other’s preference for the quiet   (   hence the volunteer hours in the library   )   but she can’t help the impulse to fill the silence when she’s not occupied with something from the archives.   “   are you feeling alright today?   ”   it always seems to be a headache that’s troubling her.   perhaps she’s reading too far into things,   but she’d never noticed the other make a trip to pomfrey for a remedy.   she’s considered suggesting it a few times,   but hasn’t wanted to overstep.   she’s come to the conclusion that there’s likely more to the situation than the other girl cares to discuss,   so she’s done her best to keep out of it,   but surely inquiring after how she’s feeling isn’t pressing it too far.