#mania.

[overmorrowrpg]

MANIA KARINE NOTTURA — 28, M — MAGIC.

A HAGSTONE WASHES UP ON THE SHORE. You find it, you of the eternal gazes, you of the endless wanting. You find it and you find yourself— hole through the center, buffeted by the waves of others into the form you take now. How does the saying go? You're born under a bad sign. Or maybe a star simply laughed in the hour of your birth, and there you were. But really, it does not matter where you are born of. What you are born of. What matters is the smell of sea water gone rancid, the way that the mysteries of the world unravel under your fingers. Most have magic, rivulets of control thrumming in their veins, but you: frenetic fingers flicking through a book, pilfered from a woman who will never miss it, believe that you might be the one to perfect it. You were never one for the rhyme or reason of The House Above The Waters, their rhetoric classes and persuasive speeches, their seminars on successful communication. WHAT IS EASIER TO COMMUNICATE THAN POWER? Than hunger? Ghosts and gods folds under the weight of your history, gutter rat dreaming, cutting through the frigid air. There is no sleep for hungry things, and you, who only know the shape of your want through the way that it eats through your being, take the means and weave them into ends. You only want control— over your life, your destiny, your name. The rest could perish in your quest. It would not matter. There has only ever been a vicious ache that you are running from, a untenable and uncertain future to run towards. Where will hunger go when it has been sated? Will you ever find it?

CONNECTIONS

PRAGMA — A HUNGER STILL UNRAVELING.

FINGERS ACHE, EYES STARE. They are a marvel, an oddity. They are something that ought to not exist. Most ghosts only linger as echoes, memories and emotions clinging on to the skin of the world in discombobulated folds. But PRAGMA is different. PRAGMA is a thing still living, a mind whirring akin to your own. In your own fascination, you nearly miss the way that they trail you, ever hopeful, ever unsure. Your fingers ache, wanting to reach into their insides and see their secret for yourself. If they want answers, you might provide them— but are they willing to let you take your due?

STORGE — THERE IS NO REASON FOR THIS, ONLY A STARVED DOG'S LOGIC ABOUT BONES.

It's not that they're not deserving— by whatever metric that might be measured by, and really, people are so strange about their metrics, their measures and their graphs. But it's that you know you could be better. Sharp eyes watch the way that STORGE conducts their movements, the routine of a soldier still laced through their movements. The others flock to them, find solace in the direction given. But fingers twitch, eyes blink. MOVEMENTS COME LIKE THE TICK OF MACHINES. They are simply too predictable, too set in their understanding of what must be done. In the dark quiet hours, you dream of what you would do in their stead. What you might do if loyalty could be held like a leash. Hands twitch, fingers shake, as you reach for their throat.

EROS — I WANT EVERYTHING YOU HAVE.

It's the sort of attraction that ought to fade. The sort of feelings that have no place in the cavity of your ribcage. THEY ARE BOTH DESIRE AND LOATHING— apathy is a cardinal sin in your world, boredom a word you cannot endure. There can only be hunger. And yet, they make light of your need, your ever busy fingers. They are far too soft�� child coddled by luxury, an absence of need— and yet all your plans are transformed into foolish fancies in their mouth. This is not affection formed from delicate touches and the looks of a lover's language— this is something that you have no name for, which races through your veins with a fire's vitriol. Do you want them at your side? Do you want them kneeling before you? Do you want to lace your fingers through their life and watch as the whole thing unravels? You cannot even tell for yourself what the meaning of this feeling that nestles close to your heart is. All you know is that it might be the blade to undo you: you must refuse to relinquish it.

TAKEN BY KIERA ✧ XING YE ZHI JIAN

[berserkflux]

I wish we could have touched one last time before separating.

a prayer

Les Félins (René Clément), Days of Being Wild (Wong Kar Wai), Malcolm T. Liepke, Gustav Vigeland (Eros and Psyche), Stephan Sinding (Adoration), Soul Eom (kiss, hug and die)

[proselles]

alex hirsch was really just so pissed that no one saw his epic old man yaoi that he went and wrote a whole new book and made a whole website specifically to show meticulous evidence that this weird old man fucked a triangle.

he really said what were ford and bill really doing in that pocket dimension they shared, hm? did you ever think of that? oh - you think it was just chess? hm. interesting. i dont.

the ultimate rare pair shipper. i have never seen a creator do this before. absolutely fascinating at every angle.

[stump-not-found]

A Lifetime Served in a Little Cup

pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.3 / pt.4

---

bill, babygirl, the red flags get outta there

[lemoocado]

computer virus gijinkas  💻 

[berserkflux]

I wish I could forget so I do not have to bear the weight of these emotions you've created inside me; and now, they have nowhere to go because my love has lost its home.

[luchaaa]

find a man who's love language is also an obsession with blowing things up

[mariposas8494]

Fuck yeah it has

[nortedwayfinder]

Checkpoint

Breaktime with the brothers.

[ink-mania]

Like the sea loves the shore.

[emerald-hills2]

you guys didnt now how much i love when sonic do this

[nikonikonek000]

[lyculuscaelus]

BY INSERTING ODYSSEUS’S MENTAL BREAKDOWN AND HIS SUICIDAL THOUGHTS JAY HAS ACTUALLY MADE LOVE IN PARADISE SO MUCH MORE ANGSTY OMG???

The dissociation—Odysseus was in no shape to carry on. Jay didn’t even need to bring up anything abt s.a. that happened on the island—just a simple comparison between the behaviors of Odysseus when he arrived and that of Odysseus seven years later: just look what happened on this island that caused him to breakdown so thoroughly. This is so perfectly done.

[deep-dark-fears]

Late night searches. A fear submitted by Jackie to Deep Dark Fears - thanks!

You can find original art in my shop!

[goodtimeswithlife]

I would say Joel has actually gone insane, but he’s already insane to begin with