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His father is away, and so is his mother, even if she rarely leaves the palace.
It rains a lot when he's young, and no one tells him why.
---
She needs to be objective. Impartial. Unwavering. She needs to be.
And so she tries. She tries hard and when she looks into his eyes, she locks her heart away. She knows that, if she leaves it on plain sight, she will stop and think of how brilliant his eyes seem underneath the fire torch light; she’s staring at two pieces of burning coal.
His voice, low and gruff, reaches her ears. "Athena..."
She almost winces. You are just too much, she thinks, ashamed.
---
His hand is bleeding. As he lazily wraps a piece of cloth over his golden stained knuckles, facing the wall that just met his wrath, he's trying to deny it all.
Their father gave her a thunderbolt.
Their father, who has always been on and on about how lethal a weapon his thunderbolt was, passed such a weapon on to his daughter.
Not his son. Never him. He doesn't deserve it.
As if his thoughts could be read, he hears a sharp crack of lightning in the distance. He looks out his window.
That's her. He chuckles. When Zeus throws his thunderbolts, it's a long, low rumble that shakes the earth. He wants everyone to feel his anger, that prick.
What he just heard however, was different.
In many ways, he thinks, she's like a crack of lightning. She is the thunderclap he hears in the distance when he's caught in a rainfall.
@southfarthing you are absolutely correct and you should say it louder
I'm imagining if tolkien lived now and publishers were asking him if he had enough followers on twitter and if he could film videos to market his found family elfcore magic cottagevibes worldbuilding fantasy book on tiktok. i think he would run them over with his car actually
Random Thing I Thought of During My Walk (Writing Prompt)
"What is death to an immortal but merely a suggestion."
Writing Prompt
"I'm so used to Death's wings being my own that it feels weird not having them on me."
"That's not a good thing though."
"Well. Then you must teach me how to live without death."
Writing Prompt #whatever
Everyone always knows the beginning of the stories, you always have known the end.
Little Intro to Me
Hey everyone. I just realized I should do a little intro to who I am and what I do here.
The name's Yulvin, they/them pronouns
I'm queer
I tend to post whenever and whatever I want
Fandoms I'm in: The Owl House, Creepypasta, a bunch of bands, Riordanverse, Star Wars, writing prompts, and more.
Give me book recomendations. I beg of you
I love old myths and legends. Especially from the USA
I have an OC that I might introduce later, maybe not.
I'm here for a wild ride, not really to get in fights.
This is a safe space. No hate is in my blog
Music is a big part of me, so any music recomendations is welcomed
I'm a terrible speller, so please don't correct my spelling. I know how horrible is.
I play Dungoens and Dragons, mostly fighters and bards
I'm a beatboxer in an A Capella group, but actually do competitions for beatboxing.
If you have any questions, please feel free to ask. I don't bite. I do bark though.
Welcome to the chaos that is this blog. Enjoy your stay
Writing Prompt
After everything you have been through, you always loved your family. Your older brother just came back from the dead with warnings about what they truly are underneath the image they have crafted.
A line I just came up with from my eassy.
"And everyone worked together in order to help each other to their end goal of the golden dream of work."
It works if you are talking about Grapes of Wrath or another book of unity of people.
I've loved being involved with the Morning Coffee Writing Competition this summer and today is our final day for submissions (we close at midnight Dublin time). If you have a 500-1000 word story up your sleeve or would simply like to donate, you can do so via this link. All proceeds go to the Dublin Rape Crisis Centre and the winner will receive 200€ + publication in the next issue of Sonder Magazine!
So shocked and unbelievably delighted to be shortlisted for the Women's Prize for Fiction's Discoveries 2022 Award!!!
A Letter to Love -kalika
Carnal Execution
your body is a revolution
eat you rich
call that carnal execution
we got that mythic chemistry
once-in-a-lifetime
every memory is ecstasy
together we make magic baby
head in heaven
you got me dreamin’ lately
I’ll drown your sorrows, unsung
my siren song
got you speakin’ in tongues
divine quake, watch you tremble
find solace in me
my body is a holy temple
somethin’ ‘bout my energy
treasured sacred
got that supernatural remedy
-kalika
crush it.
i hold violence in my hands so i can crush it.
like citrus in a damn Sunkist,
i love it.
rinds of benevolence just can’t cut it.
can’t quit this;
can’t rise above it,
cause the juice is worth the squeeze.
poisoned orange intravenously,
fruit of the poisonous tree;
peel back what’s inevitably
flowing cold inside of me.
my anger chills righteously—
hellish from the seventh to ninth zone.
so-da freeze’s frigid to the depths
of my spinal bones
close to my heart;
can i kill the bicarbonate spark?
so-di-um salt tears can’t boil over
as acid starts to depart,
leaving a mark.
like angry chem-trails grieving the sky;
sickening all
that can’t bear to say goodbye.
pop another top, squash it with a sigh.
addicted to the misery, to the high—
to sugary sweet trickery,
and i don’t know why.
-kalika
Under the Influencer
trampling and stomping
over bones trodden before…
heavy spikes for crossing
but the track’s tired and worn…
searching for the golden
waters of wonder that speak…
this fountain overflowing
promises at the tallest peak…
zombies climb the mountain
of sparrow’s hollow bones…
their countenances:
stone as they stare at their phones….
tearing fingertips til blood runs
to their elbows, wet with envy…
their infected wounds succumbing
to their insecurity…
steadfast, their unquenched brains
are ravenous and ready…
to forgo any and all sincerity just to gain
the status of celebrity…
from Ambrosia’s lips falls a tantalizing
spring of ichor…
til mortal blood-lust burns agonizing
right inside her…
the nectar of the gods is poisoned
the spiked-
punch runs deep; the smell poignant
as her psyche…
…implodes from banging insanity…
-kalika
underwhelmed
“Don’t wear shorts above
the knees as you do that way.”
“Why do you come to work
dressed so fancy every day?”
“Flirt more, work for it;
I find that’s the hottest.”
“Try not to be so sexual,
women should be more modest.”
“You should wear less makeup,
don’t hide away your gorgeous face.”
“Wear more makeup
because you look so tired today!”
“Make sure you dye your hair
to the roots so it’s the blondest.”
“You should change your hair
back to brown; I’m just being honest.”
“Don’t talk so much in class;
you’re taking up too much space.”
“Why don’t you talk more?
I know you got something to say.”
“You should finish up school,
to ensure you’re the sharpest.”
“Don’t go to school at all
if you want to be a real artist.”
If I let the world control me,
it’ll rip me to shreds.
It’ll take this tapestry I’ve woven
and turn it into threads.
If I let the world control me,
I won’t understand myself.
IF I WAS ALL THE WORLD
WANTED ME TO BE,
YOU’D FIND YOURSELF …underwhelmed.
-kalika
Litmus Test
insurmountable mountains proved moveable on that summer day in July; the world was born to be beautiful, and excellence glazed over the sky.
I ‘stumbled’ into a doubtless morning; the air was crisp and clean, as if the sun rays dared blanket all that my eyes had ever seen.
the clouds whispered in their lover’s ears; and the birds played my favorite song, as I laid there ever-so quietly learning to hum along.
the sunshine kissed your stomach sweetly as the bees went shopping for new trees; and suddenly for a moment, I became who I wanted to be.
our laughter ‘slipped’ harmoniously in tune with nature’s pitch, seducing the trees to dance in windy rhythms; and once again, the world was rich.
I felt the ‘plunge’ of a joyous thrill overwhelm me as I tucked my head into your arms. musing ‘mellow’ and melting ‘yellow,’ my soul bubbled delightfully in your wild skylit warmth.
you ‘sprang’ and ‘spilled’ a wonderland under the love of bright sun beams; as I gazed down at your body, sweat ‘drops’ of dew began to bead;
and down into a land of day lit dreams, I serendipitously ‘fell,’ as they boldly glistened and gleamed lilting a tale they knew oh so well.
they chimed a melody that happily embraced the wishes of rainbows and wind; for these prismatic, dome ‘window panes’ contained all the keys to life’s origins.
they made oasis waves ripple across space, and time came to an end; now, I reminisce about those days in hopes to once again transcend.
Looking back…
I have a rather suspicious guess when I ponder about that lovely whimsical day
that I would have failed a ‘litmus test’ for true love’s kiss had never before done me quite that way.
-kalika
hi hi! this one's mine >u<
What is the first sentence in your WIP?
I’ll go first
I wrote this for my girlfriend on Valentine's Day 💌
Fragile
I know you’ve been hurt.
Years of your emotions being dispersed.
Hardly handled with care.
All your fears being amplified from a significant that’s suppose to crystallize your worth.
Instead they impede your growth.
Leading you on when they have an unquenchable thirst.
Dragging your feelings through the dirt while they plant seeds all across the earth.
Soul ties from holes you never been expose to.
Now you’re all vulnerable.
Hiding behind a blunt or a few.
Taking shots to escape the view.
Blacking out so you can’t feel what you been through.
Your pain is visible.
I can see it all in your eyes.
It’s okay, you let it out.




Diamonds
My emotions in a gutter.
Struggling to recover but I smile, it stop all the questions.
They can’t relate to the hurting of my essence.
Miss using my presence.
Saying I’m precious but only when I have blessings.
Never when I’m looking for guidance.
I’m sinking under the weight of the world.
All this pressure but can’t make diamonds.
Missing Spots
I can’t get it off my mind.
It been going on for years.
Losing who we care.
People saying they’re there but who really cares?
It’s two different things.
Tired of hearing same things.
Sorry for your lost.
They’re always in your heart like my heart didn’t stop.
Like it’s not missing spots.
Words by me // PEACE & WAR // Poem inspired the embroidery on the left.
Words by me, inspired by the bookplate (right) by Robert Budzinski from “Das Exlibris der Dame”, Richard Braungart, 1923. // ©thisisafault.
I pretend to be ever so reserved and cold. But god; how he only told me it was okay to be human- and now I've allowed his lips to find themselves on my wounds. Goodness; how I find myself to be so easily melted.
💋
I feel as though my mind is barren. Like I can't produce more for my writing. Even the simplest of lines are starting to fascinate me now.
Writing was supposed to be therapeutic...
.. not this.