#reading archive

[jazzy--k]

That night I wrote in my journal: "Trees are schizophrenic now and beginning to lose control, enraged with the shock of their fiery new colors. Someone - was it van Gogh? - said that orange is the color of insanity. Beauty is terror. We want to be devoured by it, to hide ourselves in that fire which refines us." Donna Tartt - The Secret History

[hazybellarecs]

hello hello!!

i've made this a personal reading archive and fic rec blog for Harry Potter fanfiction - i'll be posting fics i've enjoyed as a way to keep track of what i've read and recommend them to others :) fics will be tagged with the ship, length, and anything else that i think is relevant.

i mostly read wolfstar but i also enjoy lots of other ships so hopefully you'll be able to find something you enjoy if you have a browse!

i also write on AO3 as hazybella - there's only one fic published there at the moment but i have some more in the works :)

- bella

[jazzy--k]

still my favorite 2025 read

[cuenti]

page #002

on consumption, order, and what remains human when rules collapse

Tender is the Flesh — Agustina Bazterrica

There is a system that begins with an attempt to prevent harm.

A virus spreads through animals, and what follows is not only a change of diet, of sweet loving sane routine, but a reorganization of reality itself. What was one consumption becomes threat. What was once normal becomes contaminated.

At first, the reaction is restriction. Avoidance. Substitution. But the structure does not hold.

Hunger does not disappear. It shifts directions when her daughter Insanity learns to run on her own.

What begins as control slowly becomes distorion. The boundary between survival and collapse becomes less visible each time it is crossed.

There is a moment where the idea of "not eating" turns into something unstable. Not morally, but psychologically. The absence of something essential does not create peace. It creates pressure.

And pressure needs an exit.

The world respongs by turning inward.

Not towards reflection, but toward itself.

Animals disappear first — erased in mass, as if removal could restore balance. But what remains is still unresolved. Fear does not stabilize. It expands.

What follows is not a single decision, if it could be called as if, but a gradual acceptance of what was once unthinkable.

A system is built where consumption is no longer hidden, but organized. Legalized. Encouraged. Structured into production.

And within that structure, a new category of being is created — not as identiry, but as function. Something to be used. Something to be exchanged. Something that can be consumed with the system's logic. Something. A something. A thing.

The distinction between survival and exploitation becomes administrative.

What matters is not what is done, but wha is allowed to continue without collapse.

There is no single moment where humanity "falls".

Humanity? Where is she?

I haven't talked to her in a fraction of time.

The moral structure does not break. It adapts.

And in that adaptation, something fundamental shifts: the idea of vulnerability stops being protected and stars being positioned.

The weak are not simply lost. They are absorbed into a system taht requires them. That they are "needed".

What remains is not chaos. It is order without restraint.

A logic that continues functioning even when it no longer resembles anything human.

[cuenti]

page #001

on waiting and distance that doesn't close

To the Lighthouse — Virginia Woolf

There is a house that holds people together more than it comforts them.

A family lives there, but what stays in the space between them feels heavier tan the family itself. Plans are made and delayed. A trip to the lighthouse becomes something almost abstract — not an action, but a direction that keeps existing without actually arriving.

Time inside the house does not move in a straight line. It gathers instead. It repeats small tensions until they start to feel like structure.

Mrs. Ramsay holds the center of everything without ever declaring it. Not through authority, but through presence — the kinf that organizes silence around it. People orbit her, even when they do not realize they are doing it. Even when they believe they are choosing otherwise.

And still, there is something unfinished in the way she lives.

Mr. Ramsay moves in the opposite direction — toward recognition, toward certainty, toward the kind of thought that needs to be confirmed by others in order to feel real. Between these two ways of existing, the house becomes a system of small negotiations no one names directly.

Nothing seems to break it, That is what makes it hold.

And then absence arrives without announcement.

Not as an event, but as a shift like the waves that surround it.

What remains does not replace what was lost. It reorganizes aroung it.

Regardless of the passing waves and wrinkles of time, the journey to the lighthouse finally happnes. But it does not feel like completion. It feels like something that had already been happening elsewhere, outside of time, and only now reached visibility.

The lighthouse is not an answer neither the solution.

It is distance made visible.

A point that keeps existing even when no one is moving towards it.

And maybe that is what stays after everything else fades: not resolution, but the shape of what was always out physical reach, but possible for sight.

[theromanarchives]

i just got tkc the red pyramid and tmbs the extraordinary education of nicholas benedict :D

and my qpp got me the sun and the star for my birthday :DD

i cant say christmas came early but. this definitely makes up for christmas

[theromanarchives]

November Archive:

(aka things I read in November, in no particular order bcos I don't remember)

The Fault in Our Stars by John Green. By gods I am sick over this book. I love it

Come See the Fair by...Gavriel Savit I think is what it says. Also sick over this book. I adore it.

World Made of Glass (i dont have the copy rn) which is REALLY FUCKING AMAZING GODS ABOVE PLEASE I need to ramble about the poetry in this book and everything and. gods

there are more i promise. i do not remember, however. but ik there are more