booksandcoffee
good vibes
avery | he/they | XVI | leo
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We all "felt" dark academia before we knew that there was a term for it.
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hamlet but instead of soliloquies he just stands in the middle of the stage and screams
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Shakespeare Plays as Brooklyn Nine-Nine Gifs
Hamlet:
Romeo and Juliet:
A Midsummer Night’s Dream:
Macbeth:
Much Ado About Nothing:
Julius Caesar:
Richard III:
Twelfth Night:
The Tempest:
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𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚟𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚝 𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚛𝚊 𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚞𝚜
𝚠𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚍𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚜
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I really enjoy the genre of “older literature featuring a really smart but deranged college student who does something really fucked up with his knowledge and has multiple breakdowns over it for the rest of the story.” one because it is entertaining and two it encapsulates the college experience in a way nothing else does.
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I cannot stress how important it is to be a little bit mad. I don’t mean angry. I mean strange. Weird. Bizarre. I mean that creative, passionate, wild thing romantics call madness. That thing that stirs the poet’s soul, or gives inspiration to the musician. Madness is the fuel that drives the mind of the mathematician as they discover equations that govern the universe, or the philosophers as they question their own existence. Madness is what gives activists their strength. Madness is the oppressed demanding freedom in the face of their oppressors. Madness is doing what is right despite the darkness surrounding you. Madness is daring. Madness is love. Madness is human. I’m not saying you shouldn’t fear it. One should fear madness as one fears God. After all, it is holy.
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Me during the whole day: I want to do a total of 0 (zero) things
Me at night: I need to get my life together, I want to be fluent in 3 languages, practice different art styles, learn about the modern civilization and economy and politics and watch a bunch of movies and write and read a couple of books and do e v e r y t h i n g.
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nothing feels as good as starting to read again when you haven’t held a book in your hand for such a long time and now the setting sun is in your room and there’s paper under your fingers and you feel so good about letting the words float into you again
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i literally have to romanticize almost everything or else i get sad
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𝕲𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖈 𝖆𝖈𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖒𝖎𝖆
Abandoned buildings.
Dark coffee.
Wandering the city at midnight.
Black combat boots.
Piercings.
Hiding your intelligence.
Spontaneous museum trips.
Refusing to recognise that it’s the 21st century.
Chunky knits.
Playing rock music with classical instruments.
Chaos.
Dark coloured everything.
Messy handwriting with perfect grammar.
Living in antique stores.
Having Victorian inspired items.
Writing with a quill.
Black denim.
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my mom says she’s not a hugger. but when i put my arms around her on a gloomy day or after bad news she’s the last to let go.
my dad says he doesn’t want gifts on his birthday, but i see the way his face light up when i get him a card with a nice message and a box full of chocolate anyway. he’s just a kid inside, still. it makes him giddy.
my brother never says i love you. but when i tell him “i just need to finish the dishes before i vacuum!” he wordlessly goes to vacuum the entire house before i can, and if he sees me struggle with a wrapper or a jar or a bottle he mutters ‘c’mere’ and opens it for me without even sparing me a glance.
the thing is, people love you quietly, and you love them quietly, and the air is buzzing with tiny but grand gestures & once you look for them, you find them everywhere. i think that’s really beautiful.
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