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“The Incredulity of Saint Thomas” (detail), c.1620, Gerard van Honthorst.

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Kolkata

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how do you think you can tell if you're in love?

the arrow in your heart

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i cannot hate myself into a version of me i will love.

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the only thing I am going to say about the us elections is that usamericans are lame and unfunny as fuck cause why are yall beating the dead horse that is destiel. it was funny the first two times but NO you bitches are UNORIGINAL and UNINSPIRED why do you guys not have any other jokes. come to india where we have nitish kumar, man of the match akhilesh yadav, the marxist-leninist state of uttar pradesh, a twitter acclaimed dilf leader of opposition and so much more. our elections this year were cooler and more impactful and you should really expand your horizons cause how many of you guys know that we have more than two parties. anyways your country is pathetic

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mary wills

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Fear of flying, Zhiyong Jing

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new piece about queer conventions of attractiveness, body hair, and my own transition <3

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It’s been a while.

evening sketch 27/09/18.

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So based on that last ask with King Arthur is he choosing to fall in love with Gwen even if she has a high chance of falling for Lancealot? If so, it's tragic. Doomed to love another that won't fully love you back.

Does Arthur even just tell Lancenalot to get the hell put of the kingdom some loops?

I think it's more like-

You become aware of your existence somewhere around the age of 3. You were born under mysterious circumstances you don't know the details of. The first time through, you were growing up in a castle. Lately you find you are growing up among peasantry.

Maybe you have brothers. Maybe you have a sister. Maybe you're an only child. Your family is distant either way. They speak welsh. They speak latin. They speak french. They speak english with american attempts at british accents.

The first few times through, there wasn't a sword. Now it's a consistent presence - a shimmering blade stuck in a plain anvil or a large boulder, haunting your hometown or a nearby forest glade. It looks different every time, feels different in your hands. It was made for you.

There are more trials every time. In the first stories the crown was yours from birth. Lately it's been further and further away, behind more tribulations and tournaments and beasts to slay. More guidance from the ageless old man you remember from the earliest days, the welsh days. He's different every time. Everything's different every time. And still nothing changes.

The crown is yours. It's inevitable. And when the crown passes into your hands, it carries the kingdom with it. It's yours now. And it's going to thrive! You hardly need to do anything. Heroes flock to you and pledge themselves as knights, then spend the decades tearing off on wild quests and adventures, getting into the kind of trouble that serendipitously always keeps the kingdom safe. The adventures feel familiar, but never quite play out the same way. Chalices, black knights, fairy women, questing beasts. You rarely see them for yourself. You're too important, after all. You're the kingdom's beating heart.

You have a queen. You don't spend much time with her. It's jarring how much she changes every time. You hate how much it surprises you the times she genuinely loves you; you never really get to enjoy it. The kingdom doesn't run itself, even if just having you around seems to make the forests grow thick and the rivers run clear. Mostly you spend time with her when you're rescuing her from abduction. You very rarely have children together. You miss them.

It didn't used to end in fire, but lately it never ends in anything but, and you never know when it's going to start. You're never home when it starts, but you spend so much time out tending the kingdom or questing anyway. But you always learn too late - treachery. Your knight, your vassal, your bastard child, your lady love. Camelot is burning. You watch your life's work precede you into the grave.

You die. You sleep under the mountain. You dream. It's quiet.

Somewhere in the world, a writer picks up a pen, and you become aware of existence somewhere around the age of 3.

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currently finding elements of circular storytelling in the media I'm into right now

1. Camelot wikipedia synopsis | 2. Ghost Quartet lyrics | 3. Camelot analysis in The Epic Film: Myth and History | 4. The Great Gatsby ending, by F. Scott Fitzgerald | 5. Hadestown lyrics | 6. Ghost Quartet lyrics | 7. Beginning of the final book of The Once and Future King by T.H. White

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trans George L Hart

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I love it when someone says some depressed shit in my car and I start veering wildly to remind them they wanna live

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oh I see. it was the crime of wanting. that's why I deserve it.

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“‘What is a ghost? A tragedy condemned to repeat itself time and time again? An instant of pain perhaps. Something dead which still seems to be alive. An emotion suspended in time like a blurred photograph, like an insect trapped in amber.’”

— Guillermo Del Toro, The Devil’s Backbone

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