I Was Not Made For Hookup Culture. Love Me For An Eternity Or Do Not Touch Me At All.

Dead Poets Society, 1989.

what am I supposed to do when all I crave is ✨academic validation✨ but cannot get myself to study

@academia-lucifer

"Only the very weak-minded refuse to be influenced by literature and poetry."

— Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Angel (The Infernal Devices, #1)

- Fernando Pessoa, from ' The Book Of Disquiet'

"Dark academic?" More like "someone please help me holy shit I can't continue living like this and the only thing keeping me from falling off my rocker is literature."

[id: a gray userbox with a black border and black text that reads “this user is obsessed with gothic lit.” on the left is an image of a pile of old books. /end id]

sirius black - painted nails, big, black boots, kicked feet up on the table, tobacco-smelling fingers, green and purple and black, gets into fight-fights whenever someone says something bad about their friends, blood and bruises for the ones they love, friends over family any time, recklessness running through their veins, a guitar riff that makes your stomach drop, chunky silver rings clicking against each other as they gesticulate, loving with a heart of gold, a heart of a lion

james potter - the height of dishonor to distrust one's friends, would rather die than let out a secret, red hair blending in with caramel skin, round glasses that slip down your nose, eyes glinting with victory, with happiness, with love, a broad smile full of confidence, ink-stained hands, picking fruit from the trees, playful banter, the rise of the sun, a new era, a golden necklace, an heirloom, a symbol, running down in the family, running down like water, warm sand between warm fingers, red converse, being loved, so loved, a golden boy, and spreading that love around you

peter pettigrew - a shock of adrenaline coursing through your veins, running away from trouble, from the world, warm pillows, sitting by the fireplace, crocheting, the sting of a tattoo needle, a hickey, foggy windows, the smell of freshly-baked goodies, and rain hitting that warm ground of summer, sweet summer child, catching snowflakes with the tongue, loyalty, fighting for what is believed to be right, biking on sunny hills, watery eyes and rosy cheeks, never feeling good enough, loving friends, unlikely homes in unlikely people

remus lupin - autumn leaves, annotated books, cheap tea, running on the seaside, splashing around with water, old records in broken players, cheering on your friends, a rough kiss, holding hands under tables, crumpled parchment and messy handwriting, tanned skin, lying down in the grass, whistling, driving a broken car, afternoon naps, bouncy curls, wooden furniture, falling in love, a secret that he's supposed to keep but can't, the sun shining on your face through the curtains in the morning, a wide smile and sharp canines, loving and holding on even after the storm

" does such a thing as ' the fatal flaw ' , that showy dark crack running down the middle of a life , exist outside literature? I used to think it didn't. Now I think it does. And I think that mine is this : a morbid longing for the picturesque at all costs ." ☕

- Donna Tartt , The secret history.