All these fucking books! What could anyone possibly do with them all?!?!?!?! Do you eat books to absorb their powers instead of read them?
A better guess would be that you got into a moral panic over the name of a certain Renaissance statue and maybe after reading three pages of Edith Hamilton or the first paragraph of a Wikipedia article. And then used that to castigate and demean not only the people who actually take their limited time to create gorgeous art but also to denigrate modern day worshippers of Persephone and Hades?
Maybe next time, you stringy piece of over-boiled okra, you might want to take your own advice and pick up a book, instead of reducing the feared and respected Queen of the Underworld who held power equal to or in many interpretations GREATER than her husband into a meaningless pastiche of female disenfranchisement that you seemingly plucked from your own ass.
JESUS CHRIST THANK YOU
I don’t often reblog posts of people getting owned, but when I do…
man the ancient greeks didn’t dare to speak persephone’s name she was that powerful and venerated (they called her Kore, “the maiden”), hades didn’t get that honour
Rebagel for those book links, I find the Persephone and Hades stuff on here fascinating and I want to research it more
Book links, owning and the sheer badassery that is Persephone.
reblog forever
Reblogging for the links until this misapprehension finally ceases.
@thoughtsontomes you realize that every time I see Haides and Persephone I will be completely unable to not tag you, right? ;D
Holy shit as someone who is dedicated to these two in particular this post is a goldmine, especially because it’s nearly impossible to find information about Persephone!!
Paging @samjohnssonvt!! Highly relevant to our interests!
I normally wouldn’t share this one, as I wouldn’t characterize any of these as romance novels in the strictest sense, nor do I think any of them have a cheerful, bright ending with an emotionally stable couple living in a renovated mansion full of cute moppets. But! Just last week someone was looking for gothic romances and they do tend to have some kind of love story, even if it’s with a wannabe bigamist who lies to you about his attic wife.
Sometimes we need to chase monsters. Happy reading!
Harry isn’t quite out of his teens when it fully hits him—the war, the blood and the guts spread across the corridors of Hogwarts, the screams and sobs, the nightmares, the shadows that never seem to leave him.
It’s too much.
He gets a flat in London—Muggle London. Hermione and the Weasleys give him space. Kingsley ensures the wizarding world gives him privacy. Not that some aren’t reluctant. Rita Skeeter releases articles every day, wondering when their Boy Who Lived will return.
But Harry doesn’t see those articles.
He tries to forget who he is for awhile.
His flat is cozy. He stuffs it with plants and paintings and books. He has a cat (or three). He wears sweaters and blazers with corduroy pants. He goes to the market every morning to buy fruits and vegetables. That’s where he meets the kindly old woman who lives down the street.
She lived through World War II and so many other wars, wars that Harry has never experienced but can only imagine.
She goes to his house and she goes to hers. There’s always tea and small cakes and dinners and cocoa—apparently she believes that a teenager needs cocoa—and baking and reading and knitting.
Harry uses magic to brew the cocoa one day, not realizing that she’s standing in the doorway. She calms him by telling him that she knows all about magic.
Their conversations shift after that. They talk about their favorite creatures and how hard it was to watch them perish before their eyes. They talk about the wall that seemingly gave way to let them enter the magical world. They talk about lions and friends and family and love and betrayals and life and death.
“When did you leave?” Harry asks one day.
She pauses, a hand resting on his cat’s head. After a moment, she looks up with a heaviness in her eyes, a heaviness that Harry sees when he looks in the mirror everyday.
“I was young,” she says. “Younger than you are now. But I had already grown up. I didn’t want to leave, not really, but it became too much.”
“Do you regret it?”
“Some days I do, some days I don’t.”
“Yeah…”
It’s a few months later, when he’s helping her shovel the first snow from her walkway, that he asks, “Did you ever try going back?”
“Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t,” she says, shoving a cup of cocoa into his hands. “I was shut out as soon as I hesitated.”
He pauses, nearly dropping the cocoa, before whispering, “That’s horrible.”
“What about you?” She escorts him inside, her cane tapping against the floor that he’s magically heated to warm her feet. “Would you be welcomed back?”
“Oh, yeah,” Harry says. “Til they turn on me because they don’t like the color of my shirt or because I sneezed the wrong way or because—you name it.”
She laughs and he smiles.
“Imagine that,” she softly says. “Rulers of our worlds and we’re not even allowed in them.”
“Imagine that.”
He does go back to the wizarding world, of course, but he never forgets his London flat. He visits the street from time to time, knowing that Susan Pevensie will be there, ready to push a cup of cocoa into his hands.
you ever have 8,045 bad mental health days in a row
you ever have 8,046 bad mental health days in a row
thats 22 years of bad mental health are you okay
you ever have 8,050 bad mental health days in a row
They’re deactivated now and I really hope they are okay, but my nihilism is telling me something else. 😦
nah i just changed urls a few times. i came out and transitioned, graduated college, and got an amazing girlfriend who lights up my life. i had to delete the queued update to this post that said 8400 days for my 23rd birthday because i’m in a really good place right now.
to everyone struggling: it really does get better.
As small as the world 
