#yes this is about lost

[strangerathecinema]

when that one early 2000's weird thriller-mystery show about a plane crash has me crying my eyes out, screaming out loud, jumping out of my seat, and violently reacting to small details every single epsiode without fail

[egophiliac]

lostinthebookwithstitch.jpg

this is all I can muster right now, too busy having my brain absolutely melted by the September schedule, what is happening

[cosmicwhoreo]

Moon Pearl

hwat if BP finally reformed after years of grief and took her mum's place as the new embodiment of the Almighty Sea~?

But, be wise to not mistake this change of mind as passive. For she is as beautiful as she is volatile, sailors of all stripes being cautioned to offer tribute to the sea for the promise of a safe voyage.

[magpie-trinkets]

continuing that "maya tries to contact claire" post, i present you the post-Spirit of Justice follow-up

[meagancandraw]

You ever think about how neither of them got to say goodbye?

[creacherkeeper]

is this old religion, are we calling it love?

{sweet movie, alisha dietzman / @gaphic / tiktok / @iamalivenow / on earth we're briefly gorgeous, ocean vuong / @manywinged / these violent delights, micah nemerever / the reader, bernhard schlink (trans. carol brown janeway) / hestitations outside the door, margaret atwood / a self-portrait in letters, anne sexton}

[ID: ten images of text together in a litstack

1: Confession: I will think of you forever

2: a post by gaphic: It’s only tragedy if you convince yourself, for even just a moment, that everything could be ok, despite knowing it won’t be. Tragedy lies in ‘so close, yet so far.’ It’s avoidable because it would only take a tiny alteration to prevent disaster, but human nature is in the way- not maliciously, not knowingly, despite trying so hard.

3: a tiktok comment and answer: Are they lovers? / Worse

4: a post by iamalivenow: gay sex won't fix this. it'll probably make this worse. that being said don't you want to see how much worse it can get?

5: Sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof that you've been ruined.

6: tags from manywinged: #technically they know and understand each other better than anyone else alive #but they communicate that in the most fucked up insane unnecessarily complicated way and think thats normal

7: I don't think you've ever felt anything that didn't hurt you. / We've found each other, out of everyone else in the world. Does that hurt, too?

8: "I'm not used to being loved. I wouldn't know what to do."

9: Should we go into it together / If I go into it with you I will never come out

10: of course the love is there. / still, / still, / still.

end ID]

[thoodleoo]

*twirling my hair around my finger* hes just soooooo burdened by his sense of duty and the insurmountable weight of being a mere man written into the role of a myth

[cinnamontoads]

fry n leela stuff from the other day while I am so severely art blocked rn

[inkskinned]

i. about 2 weeks ago, i was told there's a good chance that in 5 or so years, i'll need a wheelchair.

ii. okay. i loved harry potter as a kid. i have a hypothesis about this to be honest - why people still kind of like it. it's that she got very lucky. she managed to make a cross-generational hit. it was something shared for both parents and kids. it was right at the start of a huge cultural shift from pre to post-internet. i genuinely think many people were just seeking community; not her writing. it was a nice shorthand to create connection. which is a long way of saying - she didn't build this legacy, we built it for her. she got lucky, just once. that's all.

iii. to be real with you, i still struggle with identifying as someone with a disability, which is wild, especially given the ways my life has changed. i always come up against internalized ableism and shame - convinced even right now that i'm faking it for attention. i passed out in a grocery store recently. i hit my head on the shelves while i went down.

iv. he raises his eyebrows while he sends me a look. her most recent new book has POTS featured in it. okay, i say. i already don't like where this is going. we both take another bite of ramen. it is a trait of the villain, he says. we both roll our eyes about it.

v. so one of the things about being nonbinary but previously super into harry potter is that i super hate jk rowling. but it is also not good for my mental health to regret any form of joy i engaged with as a kid. i can't punish my young self for being so into the books - it was a passion, and it was how i made most of my friends. everyone knew about it. i felt like everyone had my same joy, my same fixation. as a "weird kid", this sense of belonging resonated with me so loudly that i would have done anything to protect it.

vi. as a present, my parents once took me out of school to go see the second movie. it is an incredibly precious memory: my mom straight-up lying about a dentist appointment. us snickering and sneaking into the weekday matinee. within seven years of this experience, the internet would be a necessity to get my homework finished. the world had permanently changed. harry potter was a relic, a way any of us could hold onto something of the analog.

vii. by sheer luck, the year that i started figuring out the whole gender fluid thing was also the first year people started to point out that she might have some internalized biases. i remember tumblr before that; how often her name was treated as godhood. how harry potter was kind of a word synonymous for "nerdy but cool." i would walk out of that year tasting he/him and they/them; she would walk out snarling and snapping about it.

viii. when i teach older kids creative writing, i usually tell them - so, she did change the face of young adult fiction, there's no denying that. she had a lot more opportunities than many of us will - there were more publishing houses, less push for "virally" popular content creators. but beyond reading another book, we need to write more books. we need to uplift the voices of those who remain unrepresented. we need to push for an exposure to the bigotry baked into the publishing system. and i promise you: you can write better than she ever did. nothing she did was what was magical - it was the way that the community responded to it.

ix. i get home from ramen. three other people have screenshotted the POTS thing and sent it to me. can you fucking believe we're still hearing this shit from her when it's almost twenty-fucking-twenty-three. the villain is notably also popular on tumblr. i just think that's funny. this woman is a billionaire and she's mad that she can't control the opinions of some people on a dying blue site that makes no money. lady, and i mean this - get a fucking life.

x. i am sorry to the kid i was. maybe the kid you were too. none of us deserved to see something like this ruined. that thing used to be precious to me. and now - all those good times; measured into dust.

/// 9.6.2022 // FUCKING AGAIN, JK? Are you fucking kidding me?

[druidshollow]

my kids absolutely fuck shit up

[chucapybara]

—monsters.

a short arlecchino x harbinger fem!reader drabble.

—in which a wounded innamorati is tended to be blackened hands and mournful words.

notes: "innamorati" is one of the cast in the commedia dell'arte, with the theme of the lovers, if i remember correctly. they are usually a pair, as well. wrote this a few days ago; this came to me with my own version of a harbinger!oc in mind (hence it may come off as self-shippy), but i think it's vague enough to substitute a reader as innamorati. :3c inna also has cryo-inclined abilities (hence titled "Permafrost") and covers themselves in armour!

"You still bleed like a man does."

"And how does... ngfh... a man bleed?"

"Red."

Were it not for the slickened crimson coating her cursed palms, Arlecchino may as well have thought that the Innamorati was no more than an inanimate suit of obsidian. Innamorati's breaths come heavy, misting like frost at the base of her visor.

There is a kinship, in the blood and in the ghastly taint that sours them both. Like beckons like, as the familiar recognises the familiar from a sea of crowds.

For a moment, Arlecchino's dead-eyed gaze flickers over the shadows in Innamorati's helmet, as if searching for a glimpse of the soul that stares beneath. She almost catches the abyssal-flecked hazel, the dredges of human, or what once was human.

"Innamorati."

"Mmh."

"The children will mourn your passing," the Fourth mutters. It's difficult to dress the wound of an acquaintance who refuses to shed their armour, but she improvises. The bleeding must stop eventually.

"Will they, now?"

Arlecchino bows her head, the slightest nudge of a nod. It was not often that Innamorati passed by the House, but every instance always brought with it the intrigue from the children, and the rumour of the risen "abyssal knight". For all the Lovers' aloof frigidity, a wonder it had become when said abyssal knight would bring souvenirs and trinkets for the children of the Hearth after and between deployments, when said abyssal knight would converse with the fosters in a voice soft as snow, gentle as a whisper upon a dandelion breeze.

Quickly, Innamorati had unknowingly earned a place for herself among the denizens of that organisation, and had come under the scrutiny of its unfeeling Father. Hence had Arlecchino found a wounded Innamorati, returned from a mission, stalking past whilst nursing an injury; hence had Arlecchino beckoned her fellow Harbinger into her office, where a box of medical supplies sits in her cabinet for unforeseen events much like this.

"And of you?" The words come slow from 'neath Inna's helm, a gravelled drag to them, strained. "Will you mourn my passing, Knave?"

There is a long silence. With calculating coldness, the baleful moon falls quiet, perhaps contemplative, perhaps resentful of the question.

How many has she reaped? How many throats slashed, heads ground into a marrowy pulp? And of the many, of what number were those she had no strength to aid, left to keep the reminder of their lives in their final breaths?

Even now, from the depths of that icy past blazed upon a crimson pyre, Innamorati ferried recollections that the Knave had not pondered in a long time: her first blood, on that fated arena, within the cage of a woman madder than she—the blood of a fallen dreamer, an heir to tragedy.

When Arlecchino does not answer, Innamorati answers for her.

"Well," the Permafrost mutters in a rasp, "I have yet to forfeit my life, stubborn as I am. You do not grieve for the living."

"And yet we grieve, still, for what eludes us in the present."

Their gazes meet—or Arlecchino thinks they do. She feels a knowing shiver at the tilt of Innamorati's head, in her direction, where the fiery moon meets a frigid sun.

We grieve for what we have lost.

And if naught else, yours is the grave whose flowers I shall never allow to wilt.

[egophiliac]

BIRD SSR????????????

NOOOO I wasted all my keys on Platinum Malleus, HOW CAN THEY DO THIS TO ME

(I do kinda love that this is officially "Raven Jacket" Crowley though) (does this open up the possibility of a selection of future Crowley fashion cards)

[payasita]

Day 4: Envy

[adhd-merlin]

I just think it's endearing when a man is a massive wife guy

[rhapsoddity]

Cub... Cub isn't having a good time.

Ariana is worried about him...

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

You really didn't think that one through huh?

idk if im sobbing, wheezing, or choking on my tea <3