#Death of a Poet

[nathanieldorsky]

Explanation of the films listed as Original Kodachrome only 

This separate series of films, listed within my filmography, are films that are not quite films as such, but are, in their own way, very special and a total delight for the eye when projected as camera Kodachrome original.

My attempts to print these films was not very successful and I observed that much of their charm came from seeing them projected as camera original Kodachrome. In fact, these films are a bit more like journals rather than films as such, and their original Kodachrome nature is appropriate for their genre and syntax.

Two are travel films in the traditional home movie sense. Another is a purification journal upon the passing of Stan Brakhage. Two of them, that are the most complex, are made from scraps and out-takes of films shot in Kodachrome. And finally there is a portrait of Nick Hoff, who assisted me in writing Devotional Cinema, a portrait that preceded my portrait films made a few years later.

The reason I am not making these films available for rental is simply that every projection of them could be their last. Once these films are scratched or damaged they are gone, and in most cases not repairable.

I have only shown them publicly a few times in the Maya Deren theater at the Anthology Film Archive in New York where they have a most excellent James Bond projector and archival level technicians to project them.

Lux Perpetua I  (2000-2002 / 2016, 23 min) Original Kodachrome only Lux Perpetua II  (1999-2002 / 2016, 31 min) Original Kodachrome only

Other Archer  (2003 / 2016, 9 min) Original Kodachrome only

Death of a Poet  (2003 / 2016, 21 min) Original Kodachrome only

Ossuary  (1995-2005 / 2016, 43 min)  Original Kodachrome only

Dreams Reveal a Weightless World (2016 / 2024, 23 minutes) Original Kodachrome only

The filmography page, along with the listings on this page, have direct links to the stills, the technical information, and Nathaniel’s descriptions of each of these films.

[liveandbreathemusicals]

Gay people will be like “this is my comfort show!” And then show you the most emotionally devastating, stress-inducing, tragic piece of media you have ever witnessed

[betweenthetimeandsound]

"I asked for a glass of water but

I didn't realize you were drowning in the ocean

I couldn’t reach your lonely island

My wish was just a drop in your emocean"

*tears*

Sadness seeps out of my pores

I grieve all the friends I ever lost

To illness and ignorance

My heart strings play in dissonance

I asked for a glass of water but

I didn't realize you were drowning in the ocean

I couldn’t reach your lonely island

My wish was just a drop in your emocean

The world cries when a poet dies

Who will see the beauty in the mundane?

Who will write about the silent moments enjoyed in nature?

Who will read between the lines of our conversations?

Believe me when I say

The world is a better place

Because you are part of it

And when you need more space

Don’t stop the world and get off

Poem dedicated to @holdenmarrswritings

[authenticity2025]

When death finds you, may it find you alive -African Proverb

[skel3tonmoth]

Pain and suffering are essential to human existence. Death is what keeps us alive, Love is what saves us from it all.

[somethinggoodig]

Codependent gays who aren't even canon my beloved

[taeggukxiie]

How is this man even real like- how?? He's so ethereal and divine it should actually be illegal.

"They don't make men like this anymore" has never been so real. I could write a million sonnets about his beauty istg.

ETHAN OH MY LORD.

[the-muppet-joker]

So, uhhh… “Colter,” was it? Could you tell us a little about yourself? Now that you’re not, yknow, a kinnie, or emo, or a monk…

A kinnie, an emo, or a monk are the only three things you can be... I suppose now all that remains is being normal...

[thestrangepoet]

The White and Orange Cat | The Magnus Archives One Shot

Based on @ultramarinaa's Cat!Martin AU and @coworkerjonathan's interpretation of it. If you would prefer a sweeter, fluffier take, that is over here.

CONTENT WARNINGS: Character death, animal death, crippling and ungodly levels of angst.

DISCLAIMER: I wrote this in an hour and haven't proofread it, so please forgive its very first-draftiness.

──── •✧• ────

[CLICK] 

Statement of Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist at the Magnus Institute, London, regarding the…the m-murder of Martin Blackwood. Statement…recorded by subject, October 17th, 2017.

Statement begins.

I…killed my coworker, yet the police refuse to arrest me. 

I know why, of course. For whatever reason, I remain valuable to Elias. His intimidation and manipulation has proved sufficient to keep the authorities from accepting my confession, despite the fact that no one has seen nor heard from Martin Blackwood in months. 

No one will see or hear from Martin e-ever…ever again. And it is my fault. 

It is all my fault. 

I…

[CLICK]

[CLICK]

Statement of Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist at the Magnus Institute, London, regarding the murder of Martin Blackwood. Statement recorded by subject, October 17th, 2017.

We have collected a number of strange and unusual books at the Magnus Institute. He knew not to meddle with them. He knew. Maybe the rather unassuming title convinced him it wasn’t a bad one, or…or maybe he didn’t realise he’d picked up a Leitner. 

The Ninth Life. I should have noticed sooner. I should have…

I…God, Martin, I…

I’m sorry.

[CLICK]

[CLICK]

Statement of Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist at the Magnus Institute, London, regarding the murder of Martin Blackwood. Statement recorded by subject, October 18th, 2017.

[THE ARCHIVIST EXHALES SHAKILY] 

Martin disappeared on June 4th, 2017. It was certainly unusual for him not to show up to work, especially without a call or message to explain himself. Naturally, we tried to contact him, but he didn’t answer his phone, nor did he answer the door when Tim visited his house to check in on him. I’d have gone myself, only another strange occurrence had taken place that day too, one I just…didn’t connect. 

The appearance of a large, white-and-orange furred cat in the archives. 

No one seemed to know where he had come from, yet he was remarkably well-behaved. In hindsight, he…

[ONCE AGAIN, THE ARCHIVIST FALTERS. SILENCE SETTLES FOR A WHILE, PAPERS ARE RUSTLED, AND WHEN HE SPEAKS AGAIN, HIS VOICE STRAINS WITH REGRET] 

I stayed to take care of the cat. I should have gone to Martin’s place, but I…I don’t know. I felt compelled to look after this poor, lost creature. 

He didn’t seem keen to leave the archives, and he constantly prowled around Martin’s desk. We’d even, ahh, joked that he was a good replacement for Martin. 

He hid under the shelves after that and didn’t come out for an hour. When he finally did, he actually hissed at me. Again…hindsight, I suppose…

So, that was the situation we found ourselves in. Martin was mysteriously absent, and a strange white-and-orange cat had appeared in his stead. 

I named the cat – I named Martin, for no doubt it is clear to whoever is listening to this that the cat was Martin himself – I named him Champion. 

Champion took quite a shine to me. I almost volunteered to take him home, especially when it became clear that Elias was allergic to cats, but Tim protested. Said Champion should be an office cat. “Keep the rats from visiting,” he said. I presume that was a dig at Elias.

For what it was worth, Champion seemed very happy to remain in the archives. He set himself up at Martin’s desk, snoozing on his chair or in my lap. He even seemed to be reading statements and—

Well. I suppose he was. 

Probably looking for a way to save himself when it became clear we would not.

It was weeks before I began to realise something was wrong. It’s…not the first time I’ve found myself aware or knowing something without any obvious reason or source, but I couldn’t shake the notion that Champion was slowly becoming…

Less…familiar. 

He napped on Martin’s chair, as always. Slinked around my legs in the morning as I made tea. But he stopped doing things that we used to find so endearing. He used to miaow in protest when I’d reheat my forgotten tea in the microwave. He’d turn his nose up at cat food; we were costing the Institute a small fortune buying him human food! If I pulled out a packet of cigarettes from the drawer, he’d leap to try to bite the box and run off with it. He succeeded a few times too! 

But he just stopped one day. Microwaving tea didn’t upset him anymore. He was no more concerned about my smoking than he was about anything else. He started eating the cat food Elias insisted on putting out every day “to teach him what he’s supposed to eat”. 

He stopped being particular about me. 

I know, that sounds ridiculous. I realised there was something wrong with the cat when I was no longer his favourite. 

That was when I started digging. Properly digging. Not Martin disappearing for weeks. No. A cat deciding to sit in Tim’s lap instead of mine, that was what spurred me to investigate Champion’s origins. 

…

…I, err…I went through Martin’s desk. I should have done it sooner, it just…didn’t feel right. Even when days became weeks, it just…seemed like a violation? It wasn’t that I didn’t care where Martin was, I swear, it just…felt like he’d come back at any moment.

The police had rattled through it, of course, but they didn’t pay any mind to the battered copy of The Ninth Life. 

But I did. I was practically drawn to its shabby cover, my heart growing colder and colder, knowing whose damned name would be scrawled on a bookplate on the front page. 

From the library of Jurgen Leitner. 

I didn’t read too far. I gleaned enough from its presence, its former owner, and Champion’s appearance to finally put the pieces together. 

Martin hadn’t been missing. He’d been in the archives every single damned day…as Champion. 

Martin was Champion. And, as with any good Leitner, his humanity had been fading away day by day as we chuckled at his antics and cooed at his funny miaows and gave sickly sweet sympathy as he bumped into a chair leg or door again and…

He was trying to tell us. Of that, I am now sure. He was begging us to notice him. 

He’d always been begging for someone to notice him. Notice his plight. 

And we failed him. 

I threw the book back into the drawer and raced through the office, searching high and low for any sign of that fluffy tail or strangely attentive blue eyes. I called out for him. By his name. 

Nothing. 

I finally found him in the break room, curled up without a care in the world on the counter. I called his name – Martin, that is, not Champion – praying he’d look up, that joy and relief would flood his features, that he’d realise he was saved. 

He barely flicked an ear at me. 

Not until I said his name. 

Champion. 

He looked up at that. For a little while, at least. 

The sight of me crying didn’t interest him all too much, I suppose. 

I knew at that moment that Martin was gone. I knew…but I didn’t want to know that. The idea of having failed Martin so spectacularly just…it just drove me to try to fix it all. 

I’d run out of time before I’d even started looking for a solution. And I knew that, deep down. I suppose that is why I was so reckless, so willing to believe the most hideous of suggestions. 

It took me three nights of pouring over literature and statements, with Champion occasionally visiting me for ear scritches or to remind me loudly that he hadn’t been fed yet. It was as I was scraping out some pungent chopped meat into his bowl that I recalled one of the countless fairy tales I’d devoured in my youth. 

The White Cat. A-a…Slavic fairy tale, I believe. I don’t recall all the details; the usual fare, a king and his sons, he sets them three tasks, completing them will grant great fortune. But one of the tasks struck me – he requested his sons to fetch the most beautiful princess to take as a bride. One of the sons had formed a bond with an intelligent white cat who had helped with the previous tasks, so he returned to the cat to ask for its assistance. 

The cat told the son that she would give him a beautiful princess…if he would…if…

[THE ARCHIVIST HESITATES, HIS VOICE CATCHING]

If he would…cut off her head. He…refused. But then he did so and from the cat’s body, a beautiful woman emerged. 

The woman explained that she’d been transformed into a cat by some power or other, and she would only be free if the man she loved cut off her head, I think, and…

…

…He loved me. 

Martin. I…I know he did. I didn’t at the time – I am not so arrogant – I just thought that…that maybe the solution, as awful as it was, it was from a book, a-a-a tale about a person cursed to be a cat and I just…

I thought Martin would reappear if I did. If I did the same as the prince. 

He was eating, oblivious as I went to the kitchen drawer. The knives obviously aren’t the biggest or sharpest, it’s a workplace, but I found one that I thought would be, ah…swift, a-at least. 

Picked him up. He didn’t mind. He liked being on the counter. Think he liked being able to see everything a bit better. 

His eyesight was terrible, you see, and…

I-I think he knew? Or…m-maybe he wasn’t entirely…cat yet. Maybe a small part of Martin was still there, still aware, and realised what I was going to attempt, and…

He…panicked. 

…You can, from the fairy tale, figure out what happened next. 

Martin did not emerge from the cat. 

[A LONG SILENCE. FOR A WHILE, IT SEEMS LIKE THE ARCHIVIST MIGHT END HIS STATEMENT THERE. BUT HE INHALES DEEPLY – A TREMOR BETRAYS HE’S BEEN SOBBING AS HE RECORDS THIS – AND CONTINUES.]

Elias found me first. 

He was smiling. 

Took the knife from me, said it was for the best that Martin was gone. That things hadn’t…hadn’t gone as planned with him. 

I didn’t ask him what he meant by that. I couldn’t. I couldn’t…do anything. 

I just stayed there, having sunk to my knees on the floor, watching Elias pick Martin up and…dispose of him. Just like that. 

He must have known the fairy tale too, because when he collected Champ— Marti—

When he picked up the head, he…he laughed. 

“Oh. Oh, I see why you might have thought that. You old romantic, Jon,” he said, dropping the head into the bin. “If only you knew how fitting that was. Would you like to know?”

I didn’t. 

I really, really didn’t. 

But he showed me anyway. Right into my head. Just…tore open the wound and poured all that agony upon it. Martin’s heart, his feelings, his…his love for me. 

He loved me. And I…I…

He…

We didn’t notice him. He was right in front of us, losing his humanity day by day and we just…

I’m sorry, Martin. 

I…

[ONCE AGAIN, A LONG SILENCE FALLS UPON THE ARCHIVIST. WHEN HE SPEAKS AGAIN, HIS TONE HAS DROPPED TO SOMETHING EERILY EVEN-KEELED]

Elias asked me where the book was. 

He knew the whole time. He knew what had happened to Martin. For whatever reason, it seems Elias had backpedalled on his decision to transfer Martin to the archives and wanted him gone. The book provided the perfect opportunity. 

Had I a reason to, I would endeavour to find out why. What Elias is up to, why Martin being in love with me would cause a problem with that. 

I have no reason. 

Not now. 

…

I’m going to read The Ninth Life. Cover to cover. I’m going to know his pain. His loneliness. My failure. 

But first, I’m going to leave a copy of Grimm’s Fairy Tales in Tim’s desk drawer. 

Tim. If, by any chance, you listen to this…I’m sorry. 

You did the right thing. 

You…avenged Martin, after all. 

End recording. 

[CLICK]

[therealneilperry]

I can’t legit close my eyes and remember how I felt the first time I saw Neil s^icide scene, specifically when he out on the crown and stared out the window. I didn’t know the plot, no one told me, but I just knew. I recognized that look and I got these horrified chills. It was so incredibly well shot and framed dude, so much emotion in that scene without words.

[voidic3ntity]

I yearn for something far more peaceful than my own mind.

[mysharona1987]

[nobeerreviews]

Music, when soft voices die, vibrates in the memory.

-- Percy B Shelley

(Cluj, Romania)

[feralpeasures]

NOOO THEY DIDNT NOOOOOOOOO

[deepfriedpaddymayne]

The Dead Poet, by Lord Alfred Douglas (1901) / Paddy Mayne & Eoin McGonigal in SAS: Rogue Heroes 2x06 (2025)

[cool-lesbian-is-here]

Intro post!!!!!

I’ve never actually officially done one, so I might as well.

I am Katya (short for Kateryna)

I was born in Ukraine and lived there for two years before moving to England with my family. I also had like a weird year where we lived in Luxembourg but whatever. So yeah I speak Russian and English fluently and I can understand ukrainian but not speak it fluently.

I am a cis lesbian MINOR (14).

I love music, I listen to it all the time so here are some artists I like 😁😁: David Bowie, queen, Rolling Stones, the smiths, oasis, Måneskin, the Runaways, the Beatles, T. Rex, Aerosmith, Jon Bon Jovi, AC/DC, Billy Joel, deep purple and pink Floyd, ABBA, girl in red, Chappell roan, Olivia Rodrigo, Ayesha erotica, K$SHA, Britney Spears, mccaffferty, Alex G, Penelope Scott, Rio Romeo, the front bottoms, Mitski, Laufey, Madilyn Mei, the cardigans, Conan Gray and arctic monkeys

TV Girl has my heart

There are obvs more but I can’t remember them all, anyway, moving on, fandoms!

BBC Sherlock, the marauders, LOTR and The Hobbit, dead boy detectives,the dead poets society, wicked, a series of unfortunate events, Good omens, Percy Jackson and gravity falls.

Books that literally changed my brain chemistry: the Perks of Being a Wallflower, dead poets society, Girl, interrupted (as well as the movie), the catcher in the rye, Solitaire, and a separate peace.

Obsessions I had when I was younger(please don’t laugh): Ed sheeran(I KNOW, OK.), Katy Perry (her songs r still kinda fire tho) and of course “The Land of Stories” (that shit had a hold on me)

Hobbies: reading, crochet, playing idle games and watching yt side by side, and making random shit

Style: I’d say I dress grunge so my clothes all have like a little bit of each marauder in them

Marauders!!!: I think I am a James kinnie, my fav marauder is sirius tho and my fav ship is wolfstar(nothing is better than the original in my opinion). Honestly, I think I lean towards fluffy fics more when I’m looking for a wolfstar fic and also there’s this random lore Abt me that I have read ATYD twice and also ATYD-Sirius’s perspective twice.

Random lore: when I was 11, my brother and I exploded a power bank together so now I have this big scar on my leg from the burn. My favourite colour is green. I also have a fake name that I give to ppl who I don’t rlly want knowing my name. I’m allergic to gold but I look rlly good in it 😔😔. I annotate my books.my fav dinosaur is the triceratops. I love to quote random songs on here ✨✨. Also I rlly wanna play guitar but I have zero musical talent 😭😭. Also I love death note!!!

I honestly think that’s everything, so um yeah! That’s me :)

ALSO GUYS JS QUICKLY, IF I CALL YOU “girl” OR “bitch” IM NOT TRYNA CALL YOU AN ACTUAL GIRL OR AN ACTUAL BITCH ITS JS SMTH THAT I USE AS GENDER-NEUTRAL THINGS TO ALL PPL. IM RLLY SORRY IF I MISGENDER U, I RLLY DONT MEAN TO, ITS JS A THING I SAY!!!

This is a cool funky collage of my vibes 😁😁, a courtesy of my beautiful, talented, cool, funky, awesome sauce moot: @dont-turn-left

✨my moonshine✨: @corvibb