one thing about orpheus and eurydice is you guys are all like “i’m different i wouldnt turn to look at her” because you are all familiar with the story of orpheus and eurydice. but orpheus wasnt familiar with the story because he was in it lol.

“i wouldn’t look back bc logically if she’s not there it wouldnt help to look and if she is there looking back would cause me to lose her” cool so has love never made you stupid and insane

another thing thats interesting is i think most people assume its a walk of reasonably short length that you have to resist looking back. but we dont know how long that walk was. its out of the underworld, time could work very differently. could be days. could be months. could you walk for months without looking back to see if your love is okay? i dont think you could

exactly. like oh you’re not going to look back? have you never lost a love? there is so much looking back.

🍯🐝 1. mary oliver, devotions: softest of mornings / 2. ponyo (2008) / 3. vanessa angelica villarreal, a field of onions: brown study / 4. only yesterday (1991) / 5. federico garcía lorca, new heart / 6. @heartcountry, the honey running down my arm / 7. red honey as a result of bees feasting on cherries / 8. nikos kazantzakis, report to greco / 9. by nur_light / 10. @heartcountry, the things that don’t rot 

anime | boku no hero academia | playlist x

so I got into grad school today with my shitty 2.8 gpa and the moral of the story is reblog those good luck posts for the love of god

okay so i just got my dream job??? a week after applying to it?? and now i’m thinking….maybe this is the good luck post

…..not even six hours later i got an offer of a well paying full time long-term job with free room and board in queens in nyc, allowing me independence and a way to escape an abusive situation and an unhealthy environment

likes charge reblogs cast, folks, this is the good luck post

Gonna try it. Need me some good luck.

Physically? I'm here but mentally I'm on a one way train to a mysterious city where nobody knows my name after just leaving an omnious note for my friends and family

subjects as dark academia aesthetics

english: knit turtlenecks, corduroy pants. going to stationery stores and buying ink. writing notes and penning stories in leather-bound notebooks. critiquing your friend’s essay as you walk hurriedly through a grove of oak trees in the rain on your way to class.

math: perpetually foggy glasses. biting your pencil eraser to focus when you’re stuck on a particularly difficult problem. taking notes and putting them into a worn binder, bursting with variegated papers. late night study sessions fueled by multiple cups of black tea.

chemistry: heavy old textbooks covered in post-it notes. empty beakers sitting in the windowsill, reflecting random patterns of light onto the classroom walls. a cozy striped sweater peeking out from underneath a pristine white lab coat. coffee from the local cafe, filled just to the brim with creamer - very precisely, a skill learned from hours spent measuring chemicals.

history: dark woolen coats, long socks hidden under plaid pants. old maps from all across the glove hung around the room. analyzing (and admiring!) prolific writing and pieces of art that have survived the test of time. long walks on cobblestone streets, stopping to read on the steps of a museum.

latin: sturdy leather backpacks with straps. stopping to explain the meaning of words and their roots, followed by looks of intrigue. writing latin sayings into tea-stained planners. sitting in a cafe, eating a macaron in a window booth and watching people walk by.

art: hair pulled back into a low bun, random strands poking out. hands always stained with paint, charcoal - the medium changes daily. sketching under a sycamore tree, its leaves slowly browning. standing in front of a painting in a museum, becoming lost in it, slowly pulled back in time into its story.

— Lisa Kleypas

obsessed with those stone stairs and archways in the middle of the woods that remain standing after the rest of the building has fallen to ruin

portals

Don’t walk up the stairs

if i want to get abducted by the fae that’s MY choice and you can’t stop me

You ever see a pretty dress, a well-organised notebook, a peculiar balcony or read one line of poetry and get the overwhelming urge to reinvent yourself

Things that remind me of the houses

Gryffindor is being emotionally driven. It is the wild grin on your face as you charge head on into a wave. It is dipping your fingers into wax just after blowing out the flame. Gryffindor is bonfires and sparklers at the end of summer; it is windswept hair and running around in the rain with friends. Gryffindor is good YA novels, the gems hidden in the back shelves. Gryffindor is brightly colored lipstick and kisses that feel like electricity, like passion, like heat. It is belting “Don’t Stop Believin” at the top of your goddamned lungs. Gryffindor is comic books. It is power outages. It is talking back to people in positions of authority because they’re wrong. Gryffindor is racing your friend for shotgun. Gryffindor is earrings that swing when you turn your head. Gryffindor is sailing under a great blue sky; it is fireworks and ginger beer. Gryffindor is summer. Gryffindor is ripped jeans and flannels. Gryffindor is knowing that failure to stand strong all the time doesn’t make you weak. Gryffindor is jumping off a bridge into the ocean with your friends. It is the scream that gets punched out of your lungs on rollercoasters. Gryffindor is hot chocolate and sweatpants; it is naps during the day. Gryffindor is New York City. Gryffindor is hard cider and caramel apples. Gryffindor is stopping mid-sentence to point out a dog across the street. Gryffindor is getting an apartment with your friends after college. Gryffindor is Steve Rogers. Gryffindor is praying that your soda won’t explode. Gryffindor is sweaty ponytails and the shaky feeling in your muscles after a good workout. Gryffindor is road trips with your best friends. Gryffindor is turning your friends into family. Gryffindor is long summer days and even longer summer nights; it is feeling like nighttime can’t stop you. Gryffindor is life. Gryffindor is love. Gryffindor is friendship. Gryffindor is freedom.

Hufflepuff is being carefree of spirit and caring of heart. Hufflepuff is comforting a friend by singing a song you both love until they’re calm enough to sing along. Hufflepuff is blasting the air conditioner so it’s cold enough to sleep under a quilt in the summer. Hufflepuff is flower crowns. Hufflepuff is activism. Hufflepuff is sticking your feet under your friend’s legs when they’re cold. Hufflepuff is cotton candy and sunsets at the fair. Hufflepuff is kissing in the rain. Hufflepuff is the feeling of helplessness that comes from not having enough power to right the world’s wrongs. Hufflepuff is hammocks. It is tattered friendship bracelets. It is getting flour on your face while baking. Hufflepuff is big sweaters and leggings; Hufflepuff is side braids. Hufflepuff is the storm that breaks the heatwave; it is running around the house to shut all of the windows and then collapsing on the floor giggling. Hufflepuff is the Aunt Friend, for when the mom friend needs a mom friend. Hufflepuff is prom night with a group of friends. Hufflepuff is strawberry frosted donuts with rainbow sprinkles. Hufflepuff is Tuscany. It is sunlight reflected in the morning dew. It is the smell of smoke on a cold winter day. Hufflepuff is understanding the value of a child’s mind. Hufflepuff is the first day of spring. It is stopping to smell the flowers. It is warmed milk with spices and vanilla. Hufflepuff is the books from your childhood that you’ve read to shreds; it is the movies you can quote with ease. Hufflepuff is brightly colored eyeliner. Hufflepuff is sunrise over the mountains. Hufflepuff is festivals in the summer with maxi skirts and fresh-picked flowers in your hair. Hufflepuff is sitting under a tree with your friends. Hufflepuff is weighing yourself down with worries to lighten someone else’s load. Hufflepuff is digging in the dirt with your hands to find the cool earth underneath. Hufflepuff is leaving cute messages on your friend’s phone when you’re in different time zones. Hufflepuff is compassion. Hufflepuff is empathy. Hufflepuff is laughter. Hufflepuff is freedom.

Ravenclaw is asking why and using the answer. Ravenclaw is reading at night with a flashlight under the covers. Ravenclaw is lightning. Ravenclaw is fuzzy socks. Ravenclaw is lying on your back with a group of friends and looking at the stars. Ravenclaw is forgetting to eat and sleep because you’re in research-mode. Ravenclaw is French-press coffee. Ravenclaw is owning more books than you could read in a lifetime. It is quick messy buns with pencils stuck through them; it is sweatshirts and yoga pants. Ravenclaw is curling up on a window seat with a book as the snow falls outside. Ravenclaw is people-watching. It is old book smell. It is watches with interesting faces and the full moon through the trees. Ravenclaw is bronze eyeshadow. It is Paris. It is hard caramel. Ravenclaw is staying up until sunrise talking about the universe. It is lying on the floor talking to your significant other about anything and everything and then rolling over and kissing them. Ravenclaw is packing your books first to make sure you’ll have room. It is running your hand through your hair to calm yourself down. It is beanbag chairs in the library. It is spending time with people of older generations and trying to absorb all of the wisdom they have to offer. Ravenclaw is the best answers in Cards Against Humanity. Ravenclaw is twirling a pen through your fingers as you think. Ravenclaw is the feeling of freedom on a windy day. Ravenclaw is ornate bookmarks; Ravenclaw is antiques. Ravenclaw is well-disguised sass. Ravenclaw is asking the perfect question to send the class off on an hour-long tangent. Ravenclaw is flirting in other languages. Ravenclaw is doing personal research instead of homework. Ravenclaw is knowing that imagination outstrips intelligence. Ravenclaw is curiosity. Ravenclaw is wit. Ravenclaw is passion. Ravenclaw is truth.

Slytherin is knowing that there are still some things more important than success. Slytherin is being asked “what do you want to be when you grow up” and answering with the same thing you’ve been saying since you were six. Slytherin is the feeling of triumph when your hard work pays off. Slytherin is blazers and sleek ponytails, but it is also team sweatshirts and messy braids. Slytherin is dark chocolate. Slytherin is fog settling in the valley. Slytherin is the feeling of meeting your idol and having them live up to every expectation. Slytherin is the Mom Friend™. Slytherin is surviving on coffee. It is a river so clear you can see the bottom if you’re still for long enough. Slytherin is London. Slytherin is classic literature. Slytherin is knowing that respect is earned. It is reminding yourself that it’s okay to forget about the future and live in the moment. Slytherin is being the designated driver. Slytherin is tattoos is discrete places. Slytherin is “The Bullpen” by Dessa. It is whispering “can I kiss you” before leaning in. Slytherin is chilled fingers wrapped around hot drinks on a crisp fall morning. Slytherin is perfectly winged eyeliner; Slytherin is good posture and a firm handshake. It is the smile for people you don’t like all that much. It is rings. It is armchairs in the back corner of coffee shops. It is the power trip of walking down a hallway in heels. Slytherin is dressing nice to go nowhere. Slytherin is freshly brewed tea in a china set. It is not getting out of your pajamas on the weekends. It is forgive but don’t forget. Slytherin is knowing that intelligence is not all that it’s cracked up to be; it’s knowing that the key is the will to do something with your life. Slytherin is the euphoria of ballet. Slytherin is hunting down anyone who has ever hurt the ones you care about. It is staying up until 4 am and sleeping until noon. It is wing-back armchairs to curl up in. Slytherin is taking study breaks to go out and stand in the rain, letting it clear your mind. Slytherin is drive. Slytherin is protectiveness. Slytherin is hard work. Slytherin is self-confidence.

— Daphne du Maurier 

Ravenclaws are...

The rainbow of colors when prisms are held up to the light. The sound of fingers moving down parchment and flipping pages. The first sip of a beautifully decorated latte.  Watching the same movie franchise for the 80th time because there’s another background easter egg you just found out about. The out of body feeling you get when you watch the rain from inside a building. The perfect frosting or ice cream tip at the top. Huge digital cameras. The night sky with a billion of stars and copper compasses. The way hot drinks warm your whole body. The quiet kind of beauty that creeps up on you but then is so incredibly overwhelming you keep glancing at them as they are just fixing their hair. Having a whole folder in your photos or a pinboard purely dedicated to memes. Responding to a friend with foresaid stupid meme and laughing at your own bad joke. Old Rennaissance buildings with their marble statues and golden accents 

just ravenclaw things :)

-having too many crewneck hoodies

-headaches

-having existential crises all the time because you want to go into, like, five totally different careers and you can’t choose

-endless arguing because there is no way in hell youre going to lose a debate over a topic you’re so passionate about

-messy scrawl

-reading “classic” novels so you can finally understand literary jokes

-iced coffee year round

-having lots of brilliant ideas but never voicing them

-wishing you were Edward Cullen so you could be immortal and have all that time to learn and read and travel and play instruments, too

-having the most random & broad music taste of anyone you know

-the most open minded friend

-being wiser than you are smart

-weirdly specific playlists

-not eating for a long time then eating everything in sight

-the roaring quiet of a snowy night

-the calm evening of Christmas, when everyone is happy but also sad that the day is almost over

-impressionist paintings

-the perfect pair of boots

-re reading books from childhood that make you nostalgic

-having trouble sleeping because your brain won’t shut up

-defying the odds

-the laziest friend in the group

-the weird feeling you get when you’re the only one awake very early in the morning

-a secret diary hidden under a mattress

-rainy mornings

-getting excited when you’re using your favorite medium in art class

-impatience

-being captivated by your how beautiful your partner looks in moonlight

-having favorite historical figures

-elegance & gracefulness

-being good at walking in heels

Goodbye

I slept outside last night, 

Lying on my back against the floor of the rooftop,

The cool breeze flush against my cheek, 

Chilling my tears, 

As they fluttered down to my throat, 

Carving their claws through my bones, 

The sky never stopped whispering your name, 

It blows gusts, toppling my fragile spine,

My inky tears tore their way to my numbing heart, 

I looked straight up toward the clouds, 

Each playing that scene over and over again, 

A broken tape, 

“Listen to me, please, 

Please, you are my life,”

The wind whistles a different tune this time, 

It keeps saying, “Goodbye,”

I tattooed that word over every inch, 

Of my swollen, aching heart, 

Goosebumps freckled my skin, 

Whether it was the cold or the dull ache, 

From which, I didn’t know, 

As the wind’s screaming subsided, 

And hot air replaced the cold, 

I whispered his name, 

And then a final “Goodbye,”

But to my ringing ears, 

It still sounded like “I love you.”

reading an old classic book at one in the morning by the light of a dusty lamp, the ticking of an ornate antique clock fading into background noise as you lose yourself in the story and the experience, a mug of tea balanced on your knee and a soft, dark blanket wrapped around your shoulders.

This is what true joy sounds like.

Yaaaaasss gal

what I need to have in my future home: