"I Can Fix Him" You Can't Even Fix Your Sleep Schedule Bestie

the special relationship is as strong as ever, lads

chaotic academia is writing love poems in your notes app

if wired earphones have a million fans i am one of them. if wired earphones have ten fans i am one of then. if wired earphones have one fan i am that fan. so on and so forth i can’t remember the rest of this meme

Jane Austen really said ‘I respect the “I can fix him” movement but that’s just not me. He’ll fix himself if knows what’s good for him’ and that’s why her works are still calling the shots today.

just some of the the changes in design for the Penguin Symbol on old Penguin Paperbacks 

hades explaining that he’s the god of the dead, not the god of death

DAMIANO DAVID Ronquières Festival

I think I understand why you call yourself Atlas now.

You don't have to be a man to be so stony-faced,

Muscles frozen from a backhand's winter wind.

The weight of the world isn't so heavy, you tell me,

It's all you've ever carried, your back broken in a bow.

Do you bow to an audience, stony-faced girl?

Is it their mistaken applause you crave,

Or do you bow because it's all you know?

You're a beautiful performer, Atlas. That's clear to me,

You dance so gracefully across this shattered stage.

I hear you tell yourself the ringing in your ears

Was just the echo of an orchestra,

A symphony of shouts in minor key.

Don't you bow to this world, performer.

Bite the backhand with a smile.

Disobey this heartless world you know.

-

tag list: @quaffles-with-syrup, @writing-is-a-martial-art, @wildestdreamcatcher, @cloudlessnightsleeplessfight, @your-cuffed-jeans, @moonysbungeoppang, @ughgclden, @harpersequoia, @mylittlekendall, @sweatytoothedpoetry, @drummah-in-a-rocknroll-band, @it-is-what-it-it-iss, @moobrvoobl-moobmoob-oobmpoobroom, @poetofthedyingstars

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not sure if I need to change my hair, make out with someone, get hit by a bus, consume 8 cups of coffee, fake my death, rewatch captain america: the winter soldier, move to a different country, or just go to sleep

To be in love with the night sky

To figure out its ways

Where each constellation starts

And where the Milky-way lays

Telling Cassiopeia she is pretty

Because you know she wanted to hear it

Trusting her with your pain and screams

And telling her your dreams.

To know the phases of the Moon by heart

To shiver at your window on a cold night

Because you had to say goodbye to Mars

Than having your dreams guarded by the stars.