There Are Whole Worlds Between 'friend' And 'lover' That We Don't Talk About, Or Even Have Names For...

Anis Mojgani, “Here I am,” Songs from Under the River

Silas Denver Melvin, Love as an Act of Merciful Conquer

I won’t last. Memory is sweet. Even when it is painful, memory is sweet.

Li-Young Lee, Mnemonic

Alice Notley, In The Pines

Marina Tsvetaeva

Elle Emerson, Regarding the Röttgen Pietà

Tony Kushner, Angels in America

Mary Oliver, Devotions

Fariha Róisín, How to Cure a Ghost

Suzanne Rivecca, Ugly, Bitter and True

Fariha Róisín, How to Cure a Ghost

repetition in poetry // part ii

(part i) (part iii) (part iv)

severance + screenshots

The Irony of Dark Academia and It’s ‘Bible’

The thing I find comically ironic is that The Secret History, dark academia’s so called ‘bible’, is, to me, a cautionary tale against the whole idea of embodying the aesthetic. If you haven’t read it, here’s your spoiler alert.

To me, the characters’ fatal flaw is that they’re so immersed in manifesting the aesthetic, so totally absorbed in living in this particular way that they’ve romanticised (unhealthy bits and all), they literally, albeit accidentally, kill a man. And instead of facing the consequences of their actions (brought about by their obsession with their lifestyle of mystery and studying greek by candle light), they go to extraordinary lengths to save their skin. which isn’t so inexplicable; they killed someone by accident and they really really don’t want to go to jail for it.

For the record, I’m not hating on this aesthetic, as I know a lot of people genuinely enjoy it and find an important community in it. I just personally don’t think it’s entirely healthy to replace an aesthetic with your personality, and i find it ironic that Donna Tart literally said,  romanticising life and replacing your rose coloured idea of the world with what it’s really like is dangerous’, and then the internet did exactly that, with her book as the catalyst for it.

Crack Fics

these characters all need therapy so I gave it to them by chenkitays (G, 7.4k)

Rin, Nezha, Kitay, Vaisra and Jiang attend a group therapy session led by one (1) exhausted Strategy master. spoilers for the entire trilogy. tags updated with new chapters

You're Just As Sane As I Am by sloth_slushy (G, 2.8k)

Crack fic written at 3 am, so far featuring drunk!Dumbledore among other Hogwarts shenanigans. Read at your own risk.

and He said, "love thy ducks." —Ephesians 3:20 by sloth_slushy (G, 731)

Rin and Kitay walked up to a lemonade stand and they said to the people, running the stand, "Hey!" (Bum bum bum) "Got any grapes?" Nezha and Venka said, "No, we just sell lemonade. But it's cold and it's fresh and it's all home-made. Can I get you a glass?"

Escapé by sloth_slushy (Chaghan/Altan, G, 1.2k)

The Poppy War cast decide to go to an escape room. Shenanigans ensue.

The poppy war and online classes by nobeliumoxygenoxygen (Rin&Kitay, G, 2.5k)

In which lockdown is announced during the first years' four-day Summer Festival break and classes move online. For Rin and Kitay, that means quarantining together at his estate. Also, Rin and the many times she wants to kill someone. -- (some silly headcanons about the Sinegard first years and their lovely experiences with online classes)

There are manmade joys beyond my comprehension, too. The horrors aren’t special.

“You read something which you thought only happened to you, and you discover that it happened 100 years ago to Dostoyevsky. This is a very great liberation for the suffering, struggling person, who always thinks that he is alone. This is why art is important. Art would not be important if life were not important, and life is important.”

— James Baldwin, Conversations with James Baldwin

what do they put in october and november that makes them the most ungodly mental breakdown psychosis inducing months imaginable. what are they storing in the orange leaves and generally grey drowsy atmosphere

idk who needs to hear this rn but suffering is not noble. take the tylenol

The Zen of La Llorona

by Deborah Miranda

La Llorona rises over my town– a solitary curve, sharpened by someone else’s fury. I read a small gray Zen book Everyone loses everything. Lovers, families, friends, possessions, egos– we keep nothing of this world, not even our bodies. It’s as if you’d lost your favorite teacup, you see. No amount of searching, weeping or wailing will bring it back. If you want a drink, use a different container. Write a long series of passionate poems about your cup. Hell, write a whole book. Obsession is the mother of creation. But as you compose, sip from the new mug. It will become your mug of choice. You’ll lose that one, too. And so on. In theory, anyway, we outlast dispossession: Ceramic mugs, hearts, continents. Outside, La Llorona’s knife slices the indigo heart of silence. Nonsense, she howls. There’s always something left to lose.

Netflix: *doesn’t give I Am Not Okay With This a second season*

Me: I Am Not Okay With This.