#archivethis

[hotdog-nachos]

[julesarchives]

quite contrary - a playlist of songs i think mary lennox would like

[signsofthemarch]

#Repost @domaphile with @repostapp ・・・ When we made it to The Ellipse, we deposited our signs in front of the White House with thousands of others. It felt like a sacred offering and I just hope the Smithsonian collects these artifacts of the resistance #archivethis! #livinghistory #pilgrimage #offerings #womensmarchonwashington (at Washington, District of Columbia)

[nehardeia]

Geraniums

Declan does not want to talk about Mary Lennox.

It didn’t come up till Phoebe asked a few weeks ago, but it’s true. In fact, he has a strong preference on the issue, which is rare for him.

He knows it will get summed up as, “so you like her,” and it’s about so much more than just liking her. His feelings about Mary are tied up in a huge messy knot of other things, none of which he was comfortable bringing up in the family newsletter.

There’s everything she’s going through in school - college applications, being the new kid, graduating, etc.

On top of that, her parents’ death.

On top of that, her distant uncle, her explosive relationship with Medlock, the whole thing with Callie...

The way every barb Mary throws at him hurts his feelings, but never makes him angry anymore. 

The fact that he’s skipping days at the job he loves, the job he needs just to keep his family afloat, for her.

The fact that even Phoebe thinks he shouldn’t put up with her.

The way she closes up whenever they need to actually talk about something.

The secret they’re keeping (he doesn’t like secrets).

And they’re making so many exciting new plans, and this thing they have seems so fragile and important, and he’s trying not to push too far...

Right now, he doesn’t need (or want) to think about how she becomes his focal point whenever she’s there, or just why he’s been happier in general these past few weeks, in spite of all his extra worries.

He can just accept it, and try to help her in any way he can. Right now, it’s what he wants more than anything.

[pencilinkproductions]

And a reminder that MisselArch isn’t just a webseries, we’re an archive in every sense of the word with collections of bits, pieces and stories from the lives of all our characters! 

Not only that, but all of you are highly encouraged to contribute to the archive: write your stories, poems and headcanons, draw, fanmix, make text and social media conversations, do whatever you do best and if you tag it with #ArchiveThis, we might just make your fanon into canon! Full details are on this post.

[geekgirlgrownup]

Cinders fill her lungs just as the sun starts to peak over the Oregon horizon and she knows the repercussions of her actions - but, fuck me,  coffee tastes so much better with a smoke. She stubs the light at the end of her "cancer stick" on the heel of her Doc Martens. She knows that the next one will come whenever she grows weary of the teachers' voices droning on and on and on and she'll make up some pithy excuse to find her way down empty hallways towards the side door of the school, where the alarm's never on, so she can reignite. Cigarettes have become muscle memory; her only way of coping with the world. She knows the words that fill people's mouths  better than the back of her own hand.  You wouldn't be the first to hate her for the act. She's had her fair share of waggled fingers as adults scream "addiction." She's seen enough passive aggressive teachers under their breaths murmur "rebellion." She's heard too many ex-friends across the cafeteria whisper "corruption," and look, she's not above corruption, obviously, but maybe this thing, this bad habit, is none of your concern; none of your goddamn business, and maybe the taste of ash lets her forget, for a moment, how dumb her life's become; muddy forests, distant uncles, and stupid, stupid Basil. (Seriously, what the fuck kind of name is Basil anyway?) Or maybe, just maybe, it  reminds her of city lights, bustling streets, days spent on public transit, sneaking out to go to concerts and drink with friends - who maybe only liked her for her name, but hey, at least there was always someone around. Maybe it makes her think of two ex-humans whose faces are slowly becoming fuzzier with each passing day. A man in a suit who  was barely ever home; a woman wearing Gucci and never had the time of day. Perhaps one day she'll toss the lighter, trample the box, and do away with the crime, but for today she'll feign cramps to get out of sixth period biology, dart out the building, light up, and think about times that may not have been any better than this - but that doesn't mean she's not allowed to miss those memories.  That's the whole point of nostalgia, right? To remind us of moments that might have wrecked us at the time, but still make us miss them anyway. So she lights the end of her cigarette. She inhales air. She exhales smoke. She willfully forgets the world, just for this moment.

in defense of mary lennox’s bad habit. jgask; poem 17/30

[clavisa]

Before you accuse me / take a look at yourself. 

The songs Sarah Medlock can't help singing along to on the radio. Mostly classic rock. 

A Sarah Medlock appreciation fanmix for MisselArch. Listen on 8tracks. Tracklist below the cut. 

[clumsycustard]

Acting

When Mary was young, the only way to get a reaction was by acting out. Everyone from her parent’s artificial, claustrophobic world acted in; experts on suppressing feelings, feigning laughter, surprise, confusion. To Mary that looked like an elaborate excuse to fake life. So she did things. And she swiftly learnt that this was a consistent way to be noticed.

Her mother would cancel her nail appointment to come and have a discussion with her school principle; her father would collect her from her from a party at midnight after the cops were called.

As time went on, more extravagant rule-breaking was required to get her parents to do react in response rather than brushing her off with a sigh and slight exasperation.

So Mary started smoking and stopped studying. She looked forward to the lectures on responsibility, the awkward and silent car rides as the only time she could count on her parent’s undivided attention.

She still worried that at heart she was an-actor-inner, she never talked about her feelings or thoughts with anyone. Her parents never heard her when she spoke (unless she screamed and shouted and tore her hair out, only to be accused of being over-dramatic), she didn't have any close friends to confide in and would never be one of those people comfortable with sharing details about themselves to strangers on the internet. Sometimes Mary felt like she never said anything out loud that meant anything; she was entirely made up of snarky comments and avoidance techniques.

It was one reason she actually took up Dr Burnett’s idea of video diaries, just the act of telling someone what she’s feeling is therapeutic. It’s like proving to herself that she is more than she seems, even if it is only talking about her new life and the weirdness that is Misselthwaite.

Acting out seemed to be ingrained into her habits although she had no parents to impress, but people in Misselthwaite didn't seem as bothered by her. Medlock confiscated her cigarettes without much of fuss and Phoebe seemed immune to all of Mary’s antics.

And maybe Mary was trying not to act out anymore. Or act in. Maybe Mary was trying to just act from now on. To stop focussing on other people and focus a little more on herself. To talk to people even if it is all sarcasm at the beginning. She’s trying she wants to tell them.

She’s trying. Something her parents would never have noticed.