dantealighieri: (Default)
2019-03-17 05:47 pm
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march update

theoretically i could do these on tumblr— i've got a much larger following there— but dreamwidth is much more suited for long-form blogging, and i tend to use tumblr more as an image repository slash academic pinboard than anything else these days. anyhoo! i've decided to try monthly-ish updates.

a close friend who's a grad student at harvard med and i went to the garment district (a...colorful thrift store in cambridge about equidistant between central and kendall sq), and i spent entirely too much money on: waistcoats, ties, not one but two new coats, and a pair of wool pants that are definitely too large for me and also very scratchy— but i found them in the pit, and that's what leggings are for! also yet another tweed jacket, bringing my total up to 3. (in fairness they look very different.) at the moment i'd call my general look solidly midcentury— my daily attire is usually men's pants (most often jeans, but i have a couple good pairs of chinos and one lovely pair of wool pants that are german hand-me-downs from my grandmother), a button-down shirt, a sweater, sometimes a cardigan or blazer, and oxfords or loafers. and a coat, of course; it gets very cold in massachusetts. that's all well and good, but i'd like to start incorporating more victorian influences, maybe even something steampunky. granted, that's going to be more eye-catching than my current attire, which i can pass off as "grandpa fashion," but there's nothing necessarily bad about being perceived as a bit eccentric. currently, the to-buy list (...much later, when i can justify the expense to myself) consists of: some proper cravats, a black waistcoat (the two i have are brown and reversible caramel/khaki) and one with a bright and eye-catching pattern, a frock coat (if i can get my hands on a thrifted one), a top hat, a newsboy cap, and maybe a gilt-topped cane.

last week, i got the notification that i've been fully funded by my college's classics department to attend the greek workshop at uc berkeley this summer. it's 10 weeks of intensive study— six on the language, four on reading ancient texts— with between 10 and 12 hours of work per day on learning the language. i'm beyond excited, not least because i was the only person in the department to be awarded my entire budget. all i have to pay out of pocket is food and transportation costs. at the moment i'm trying my damned best to find decent housing in the bay area on a shoestring budget, but it is not easy— i've got focus issues that make not having a space to myself (read: living in a double) difficult, so i'm looking for a single room within a reasonable distance to campus, but apparently that is something of a tall order, at least on my budget. i've heard from my friends who've lived in the area that it is possible, though, so fingers crossed.

aside from berkeley, i'm not one hundred percent sure what my summer looks like yet. i want to see my girlfriend at least once, but i also want to spend as much time as possible with my family, because i'm probably doing a wintersession class (intensive german) next year and i won't get those six weeks with them. ari and i were talking about maybe living together in hyde park for a couple weeks, as kind of a trial run for living together long-term when we're both in grad school, but i'm not sure if that's gonna happen. i'd certainly like it to, but it's all a bit up in the air.

on another note: one of the really nice things about attending a rather old college where most of the architecture dates from before 1930 is the presence of so many little nooks and crannies, quirks in the building that you don't really see in more recent stuff. usually, you find them when you're least looking for them; today i stumbled upon a little sitting area in the dorm with the big fancy living room, with a window that has a lovely view of the partly-frozen lake. it's wonderfully quiet, secluded and comfortable, and i don't think too many people know it exists. this is the hall i'm planning to live in next year, actually— with my accomodation i get first pick of available rooms, instead of having to go through the housing lottery, so i'm going to try and nab a single on the upper floors of this dorm, maybe one of the secret attic rooms if i'm really lucky. (yes, those exist, and they're legendarily hard to get.) plus there's a dining hall on the first floor here! i don't even have to leave to get good food!

that's...about it, i think; tune in in april for another episode of Elizabeth's Mundane Life.

dantealighieri: (Default)
2019-03-17 02:49 pm
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(no subject)

anonymous on tumblr asked

23, weight of the world and 49, coming home (combined, in whatever form)! As for the couple, it is only fair that I let you self-indulge in your utmost favourite.

There is a tendency, among living creatures, to center themselves in their imaginings of the universe. Humans call it anthropocentrism; a more inclusive term might be mortalo-centrism or something of the like, thought that’s mixing Greek and Latin roots and sounds clumsy on the tongue. The point: it is very difficult for lesser beings to consider that they are so fundamentally insignificant to the workings of reality that they might as well be atoms drifting on the cosmic wind, their existences meaningless and momentary, totally vulnerable to the whims of forces larger than they could ever understand.

Nyarlathotep was grateful for this tendency, to the extent that a being such as he could experience something so despicably mortal as gratitude. He loved nothing more than to demonstrate to such weak, fragile creatures their true place in the universe. It was invariably traumatic for them, of course, but that was the point. There was very little in the vast cosmos more delicious than the sight of existential terror creeping over some poor victim’s face, the awful fact of their existence constricting their throat too tight even to scream. Having been at it for almost fourteen billion years now, Nyarlathotep’s job was, for lack of a better word, boring; he had to get his entertainment where he could, and weaker sentients were generally easy pickings.

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dantealighieri: (Default)
2019-02-24 01:24 am
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dantealighieri: (Default)
2019-02-24 01:15 am
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public service announcement 2: electric boogaloo

aaaand that's all the promptfic from tumblr (at least that which i care to keep), thank you all for your patience! future requested writing from the blue hellsite will go here as well.
dantealighieri: (Default)
2019-02-24 01:13 am
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(no subject)

kitmarlowes on tumblr said:

write me sam and sibyl!!!!!
 
Sam Vimes has not ever thought of himself as a nice man. Partly because his image of nice men skews toward some vague impression of a banker, or a lawyer, someone clean-shaven and well-dressed and utterly out of place lurking in the shadows of Ankh-Morpork in a small-hours thunderstorm, which is of course an essential habit of any copper worth his salt— and partly because he’d always assumed that there was no room for niceness in his line of work. He considered it to be something like the moral equivalent of one of C.M.O.T. Dibbler’s sausages. Whatever…whatever went into them, you could always slap the label of “sausage” on it, and sell it for tuppence, and be done. Similarly, you could get away with all sorts of nasty behavior in this world, as long as you were nice about it. It was amazing, what went on under the banner heading of niceness. Lord Rust was nice— or he was nice to the people who mattered, so, not Sam Vimes— and look at the sort of thing he spent his days doing. People like that made Vimes prefer the cobblestone-variety criminal, because at least he didn’t pretend he was going for your throat for any other reason than the fact that he was a lowlife and wanted to stay out of prison. None of this nonsense about honor— or, worse, civility. You knew where you stood with him, and you didn’t have to hold your tongue out of concern for that idiotically touchy game of moron’s chess which Vetinari calls politics and Sam calls something a good deal less polite.
 
 
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2019-02-24 01:09 am
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(no subject)

magictavern on tumblr said:

sasha/azu with azu helping sasha with her wounds?
 
Sasha Rackett has never really had a problem with bedside manner. The bedside manner of her caregiver, that is— heaven (Olympus?) knows she’s had a lot of them. The way she sees it they’re just there to patch her up and send her on off, maybe give her something for the pain on the way out the door. Even that last part is optional; she’s been banged up enough that what would bring an ordinary person to tears is to her a minor-to-moderate inconvenience. She can manage. She’s spent her whole life managing. And as far as she’s concerned, the less whoever’s making sure everything inside her is where it’s supposed to be opens their mouth, the better. She and Zolf had got on well, because he had no truck with the kind of nonsense they taught you to tell the patient in…wherever it was that clerics went to school. He’d let her know it like it was. She respected that.
 
 
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2019-02-24 01:06 am
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(no subject)

skyeventide on tumblr said:

Consider, Forese Donati dies and Dante goes to the funeral, meeting Corso there. Just, that whole situation.
 
It was a sudden thing, the death, and that was what made it so hard to comprehend. Everything in those days felt demanded by a sense of narrative, from the smallest passing conversations to the movements of the city’s most important political actors, all dictated as a part of some larger story. It had been like that since Piccarda died, in some ways, but now there was something of an acceleration about it. I felt it, and so did my husband, and so— I presume, I don’t see how he couldn’t have— did Corso.

Did we know how the story would end, then? Did we know the direction in which we were being inexorably pulled, all of us, the whole city— though somehow it felt so intimate, as though we three alone were at its center? Did we sense it? I believe we did. I believe I did, at least. My husband certainly never lacked for a sense of narrative, and Corso—

Well. If he didn’t know where things were going, exactly, he certainly did not lack for a vision.

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2019-02-24 01:02 am
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(no subject)

nyarlathotwink on tumblr asked:

kiss meme - rantep, 31?

31. a kiss after a small rejection

“No.”

“But—”

Carter folds his arms across his chest. “No.”

Nyarlathotep looks down at him, considering. Carter is a little disheveled, shirt untucked and tie loosened, but still relatively put-together for someone who’s just been plucked from a mundane university office and swept off to a palace halfway across the universe. Remarkably composed, too— the first time this had happened he’d been nearly insensible with fear, and it had taken what felt like hours for Nyarlathotep to convince Carter that he wasn’t planning to hurt him. (Tenuously true as that may have been at the time.) Now, adorably diminutive as he looks from this vantage point, surrounded by the trappings of a throne room made for creatures far larger than he is, he has the nerve to look up at Nyarlathotep with an air of defiance.

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2019-02-24 12:58 am
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(no subject)

neitherg-dnorthatcher on tumblr asked:

cathy earnshaw?
 
She and Heathcliff have always looked alike. Not— not so much that it’s immediately evident to anyone who doesn’t know them, but spend long enough in their company and it starts to become obvious, like an optical illusion coming into focus. You begin to wonder how you haven’t noticed it before, and then you begin to wonder if maybe it’s your mind playing tricks on you, or them playing tricks on you. Apophenia induced by the uncanny way they turn to look at the same thing at the same time, follow each other where neither of them can see, laugh simultaneously at some obscure joke they couldn’t articulate if asked. They’re like twins, uncut umbilical cord stretching between them, thin red string tied around each of their little fingers. It makes even the casual observer feel like a voyeur, in the rare moments they spend in the company of other people rather than that only of each other, out on the moors.
 
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2019-02-23 11:04 pm
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(no subject)

nyarlathotwink on tumblr asked:

randolph carter, harley warren, e?
 
E. Signing a document

“You’re sure you remembered everything?”
 
“Mm-hm.”

“What about the belladonna, did you get—”

“Yep.”

“And the deadly nightshade?”

“Right here.”

“Tallow candles?”

Yes, I got the candles, Randolph. Jesus. Are you sure you’re all right with this?”

You certainly don’t look all right, Harley added to himself. He could see Randolph trying to hide it, perched on the kitchen island and swinging his feet a few inches off the floor in a vain attempt at nonchalance, but he was deathly pale, and Harley could see the skin on his knuckles stretched to whiteness with how hard he was gripping the marble counter. He looked like he might faint. (Not that that was uncommon, with him.)

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2019-02-23 10:56 pm
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(no subject)

skyeventide on tumblr asked:

dante and/or gemma + c
 
c: a moment of respite

AUGUST, 1299

When I think back to those days just before the turning of the century, the primary impression that comes to my mind is heat. It was a blistering, brutal summer; the temperature seemed to build and build to a crescendo throughout June and July, and by the time mid-August arrived the entire city seemed to be baking alive. Though the earlier months of the year had been busier than usual, a frantic political nervousness coloring the collective life we lived along the narrow streets, everything now was slow and lethargic, paralyzed by the merciless sun. Those who could escaped to the countryside, the cool banks of the Arno to the west— or in the case of the especially wealthy, the Tyrrhenian coast. Those who could not (and we were among their number, prohibited from travel by the needs of two young boys and a baby girl) stayed, and felt as though we were cooking alive in a giant’s oven.

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2019-02-23 10:47 pm
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(no subject)

nyarlathotwink on tumblr asked:

rantep, 11?
 
11. things you said when you were drunk

It was a generally accepted fact that most members of most species were far more manageable when at least somewhat intoxicated by their poison of choice. Nyarlathotep, in his several billion years of existence alongside sapient mortals, had enough experience in this matter to know that, as these things went, the risk of his chosen specimen reacting adversely to his plying it with ethyl alcohol or sodium benzoate or what-have-you was relatively small compared to the usefulness of such substances in convincing lesser beings to acquiesce to his whims. Usually (though not always) he was above brute force, but altering mortal decision-making capabilities to his liking was always an entertaining pastime— it was good fun to soften up their minds a bit, so that he could bend their wills like clay into whatever shape he desired. Not that he needed anything so lowly as a physical, chemical aid to do so, but sometimes a little variety was nice.

All that said: he was beginning to regret getting Randolph Carter drunk.

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2019-02-15 07:18 pm
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(no subject)

anonymous on tumblr asked:

 
nyarlathotep/carter, 'things you said under the stars and in the grass' OR 'things you said when we were on top of the world' bc i couldn't decide
 
In his short life, Randolph Carter had seen many things other men might have deemed impossible. He was no stranger to the strange and wondrous; though he would never say he had become blasé or jaded at the marvels the cosmos had to offer, he considered himself rather experienced in these matters, and difficult to surprise. Nearly two decades of adventuring in the lands of dream had taught him an attitude of acceptance to the whims of chance— many a time he had found himself in a situation that might have caused a more rigid-minded man to panic, and managed to escape by means of a certain matter-of-fact clear-headedness, making the best of whatever strange experience something beyond him had seen fit to place him in the midst of.

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2019-02-12 12:44 am
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public service announcement

i'm planning to crosspost the shorter fic i've posted to my tumblr on here, because of the tenuous nature of the platform at the moment, so expect a small deluge of backlog.
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2019-01-03 07:51 pm
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chocobox 2018 letter

hi! first of all, thank you for writing for me; i'm already excited to see what you come up with! i'm fresh off my first fic exchange, yuletide 2018, and i enjoyed it so much i decided to immediately jump feet-first into another.

general likes: power imbalances, manipulation (where appropriate), enemies to lovers, romantic relationships built on strong friendships, thematic resonances with canon, trope playfulness, height differences, literary references, scientific conceits, unconventional governing metaphors.
general dislikes: anything too out-there in terms of kink (blood and gore is fine), aus (modern aus in particular), issuefic, dominant male characters in m/f relationships, well-worn tropes played straight. smut is welcome, except where specified otherwise.

the bone key
pairing requested: kyle murchison booth/john pelham ratcliffe

i love these stories a lot; i love booth's odd, awkward, prickly brand of kindness, and i love the spare, atmospheric, jamesian take on horrors so much more introverted and melancholy than is normal for the genre. accordingly, i'd like to see something that capitalizes on the intimately personal nature of the things booth faces— maybe a continuation or aftermath of "drowning palmer," maybe ratcliffe running up against his own supernatural dilemma and calling on booth to aid him. please no smut for this pairing in particular; casefic is certainly not a requirement, but very welcome, as all the casefic i've read for the booth stories (in this volume and elsewhere) has been superb.

discworld
pairings requested: sam vimes/havelock vetinari/sibyl ramkin, adora belle dearheart/moist von lipwig

so discworld is one of those things that i adore to a stupid, ridiculous degree; it's one of the most important stories in the world to me, and there is absolutely nothing better than pratchett's brand of cheekily defiant humanism. also the puns. accordingly, i am very fond of work that takes the spirit and tone of the original and works it into something that feels like terry could have written it— though i know that's a tall order (i certainly am not at that level yet) and so i'd be more than happy to receive something that's not necessarily pratchett-esque in style, so much as it replicates the ideas found in his work. i'd love to see fic that integrates the political and social concepts you run into in the vimes books and going postal. for the former pairing, vimes, sibyl, and vetinari all have this ingrained sense of duty to ankh-morpork in their respective ways; how does that manifest in their relationship? i also adore the canonical tension between vimes and vetinari w/r/t vetinari's benevolent tyranny and sam's republican heritage and narrative pull; how do they resolve that? does sibyl help?

for the latter, moist and adora are my hands-down favorite discworld ship, and i'd love to see something with them teaming up to take down another gilt-esque corporation, or managing the aftermath of the fall of gilt's clacks empire. no-nonsense, practical adora and ostensibly-suave-yet-entirely-hapless moist is the best. however, if you want to write me some good old-fashioned femdom for this pairing, go right ahead and throw all that nonsense about thematics right out the window and have at it.

jonathan strange & mr. norrell
pairing requested: stephen black/the gentleman with the thistle-down hair

as you may have guessed from my ao3, i have a, uh, fondness for the specific trope of "unimaginably powerful eldritch being entirely above human morality/hapless mortal they've taken a shine to," particularly when said trope involves persistent seduction and/or increasingly terrifying displays of affection. that's the aspect of this ship that appeals to the idiot lizard part of my brain that just wants to read my favorite trope for all eternity, but aside from that, i love this novel for its intense atmospherism, i love stephen for his resigned pragmatism and genuine kind-heartedness, and i love the gentleman for his gleeful incomprehensibility and total amorality. following that, i'd be delighted to see something that explores the moral difference between stephen and the gentleman— maybe set at lost-hope while stephen is a prisoner? maybe including some investigation of what the faerie court is actually like, seeing as we don't spend much time there? something from the gentleman's pov would be very interesting indeed. smut is welcome, especially of the non-euclidean and/or magical variety.

the magnus archives
pairings requested: jonathan sims/"michael," jonathan sims/elias bouchard

see above with regard to the former. i like my eldritch horrors sickly-sweet and manipulative, and the way michael and jon's interactions come off in canon is just so perfect. michael is horrible and incomprehensible, jon is terrified and...kinda into it. i also love how ideologically juxtaposed the beholding and the spiral are— not quite as neatly as the beholding and the stranger, but still; michael is a creature of lies, jon's job (and...purpose, reason for being, now) is to uncover the truth. their natures are entirely opposite. how would that play out in any sort of relationship? again, weird smut is more than welcome. with regards to the latter, i love the tack this past season took with regards to jon's developing inhumanity; elias helping him along that path, dragging him further towards becoming fully an avatar of the beholding, would be absolutely great.

thank you again for writing for me! if you've got any questions, please feel free to shoot me an anon in my tumblr inbox (just tell me you're my writer). i'm so excited!

dantealighieri: (Default)
2019-01-01 07:51 pm
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yuletide 2018 recs

so this was the first year i participated in yuletide, and i had a wonderful time! for those not in the know, yuletide is a holiday fanfic exchange for small fandoms, and it’s often the place from which wonderfully creative and weird fic originates. obligatory self-promo for the things i wrote, “the second interesting thing about angels” and “smiling, smiling,” which are, respectively, lovecraft fic and sarah monette’s the bone key fic. they were super fun to write, and i’m rather proud of the former in particular, which was my first foray into smut. aside from that, i got two amazing gifts, which naturally take first priority on this list!

aftermath

fandom: lovecraft mythos
pairing: nyarlathotep/randolph carter

this is so improbably charming— when i was shaking gifts i was rather curious to see whether or not the author would manage to write, in character, something tagged “fluff” for a decidedly non-fluffy ship, and they did! very well! it’s something of an exploration of what exactly an established relationship between these two would look like, and (tangentially) what about carter proves particularly endearing to nyarlathotep. it’s sweet and light-hearted without being out of character, which has got to be obscenely difficult to pull off for a ship like this one.

all the host of shadowy things

fandom: lovecraft mythos
pairing: nyarlathotep/randolph carter

this is one of those rare pieces of writing where it feels like the author reached into my brain, rummaged around, and came up with something that appeals so specifically to me it’s kind of uncanny. it’s amazing, and in terms of sheer artistry probably the best fic for this pairing (some of the best mythos fic, period) i’ve ever read. seduction couched in terms of madness! how absolutely appropriate! both the plot conventions and the writing style are lovecraftian without being overblown, and as a result this feels like nothing so much as a canonical coda to dream-quest. structuring the fic around a w.h. auden essay is entirely delightful, and plays cleverly into the modernist and intertextual nature of much of the source material. it’s wonderfully literary, both carter and nyarlathotep are flawlessly written, and it has the most perfect ending.

in addition to my gifts, i have a few other recs!

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dantealighieri: (Default)
2018-12-18 07:04 pm
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intro post

mission statement, of sorts: i write both fic and meta for the things i'm interested in, in both the fandom and academic senses. for a long time i used tumblr as my primary site for fandom things, but with things the way they are over there i thought it might be smart to have somewhere to back up & crosspost the things that really matter to me.


about me

  • el (short for elizabeth), late teens, she/her
  • college undergraduate in new england studying classics & comparative literature
  • highly caffeinated episcopalian nightmare
  • a "writer," supposedly


things i'm into, academic version: roman history & historiography, classical reception, classical philology, romanticism, modernism, dante, the renaissance, the french and british enlightenments, lovecraft


things i'm into, fandom version: lovecraft again (primarily, at the moment), the magnus archives & rusty quill gaming, discworld, jonathan strange & mr norrell, the kyle murchison booth stories


other places: