Harry: Let Me Show You A Picture From Last Night That Really Upset Me.

a concept: heavy rainfall when you’re tucked up in bed. like if u agree.

Academia Book Recomendations

And, like, maybe a few movies too 

 The Secret History By Donna Tartt (Obviously!)

Dead Poets Society (Movie and Book)

If We Were Villians by M.L. Rio (Very similiar to TSH, also a personal favorite)

The History Boys by Alan Bennett (A play)

Vicious by V.E. Schwab (I think more superhero oriented? Ive never read it)

A Separate Peace by John Knowles 

Black Chalk by Christopher J. Yates

The Lessons by Naomi Alderman 

The Rules of Attraction by Bret Easton Ellis

Kill your Darlings (Movie, I hated it)

More Female oriented Academia books 

Special Topics in Calamity Physics by Marisha Pessl

The Basic Eight by Daniel Handler 

The Rehearsal by Eleanor Catton 

Sleepwalking by Meg Wolizter 

Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro (okay, only vaguely academic but still a good book)

The Lake of Dead Languages by Carol Goodman

I heard the movie Mona Lisa Smile is good too

A list of some other academic school books 

Feel free to add on to this post. 

I bestow upon thee; concept playlists

•classical music to sip tea to while contemplating philosophy and the next marble bust you’ll buy

•stealing books from the Oxford library with friends you never thought you’d find, in the snow, yelling about Ovid, lighting candles

•folky music for sitting on your front porch in the lazy evening sun, surrounded by your closest friends, gazing at a wheat field and singing along with a guitar in your arms

•feeling listless; like you’re walking the world alone, wandering with no destination, held in the arms of the earth and happy with that

•songs to sing LOUD in the car on a road trip going nowhere in particular

•staring out the window of a quaint coffee shop, watching the raindrops cling to the glass and thinking of all the poetry you’re going to write for that lover you left behind

•looking back on a long relationship and realizing all the ups and downs you’ve had as one, suddenly seeing it all in slow motion like a silent film

•laying back on your bed, smiling uncontrollably, thinking of all the beautiful, bucolic times you’re going to have in the sun with that person you can’t stop thinking of

•a rock in your rib-cage, sobbing on the floor, feeling empty; things are coming to an end and you can’t bear to see them go

•the first day of summer – sprawling yourself in the green & vivacious grass, heart shaped sunglasses perched on your nose; youth in all its glory

•songs that bring back days of your old glory, reliving your childhood and your golden days, tracing over the old scars and remembering how you got them

•the smell of old books, melancholy, songs that are so potent with a sort of wild and tragic longing that they’re almost dangerous

•looking out a car window; letting your eyes cling to weeping trees and then letting them snap back again. feeling self centered and tragical.

•literally just songs that remind me of Oscar Wilde and Bosie Douglas

•stuff that i’m listening to right now! always changing, songs that i’m playing on repeat

Me: *wants to get over a book*

Also Me: *rereads favorite scenes over and over, tracks the tag, reblog everything to do with the book*

Headcanon that Teddy was never really into sports, especially Quidditch. He had a passing interesting to support Ginny and James but that was all.

But somewhere around the time James turned 18, left Hogwarts and joined his first professional league Teddy realized he was arse over tit in love with him. So he started paying a lot more attention at the matches he went to with Harry, start casually asking if he could watch one of James’s team practices, and basically taking more than a passing interesting both because it mattered to James and because the game took on a whole new level of interest in the person he was secretly dating was one of the people up in the air. He found he suddenly cared very much whether James’s teammates were capable of protecting their seeker and what the other team’s formations were like.

And that’s when Harry starts to notice. Because suddenly Teddy is at every match, and rattling off statics when they go out to the chippy after work. But it’s not until James is at an away game, Harry and Teddy sitting on the sofa listening to the game on the wireless as a string of expletives leave Teddy’s mouth every time anyone comes remotely near James that all the pieces click into place.

“So,” Harry starts conversationally, “Can you believe McGee nearly knocked James off his broom.”

“Thundering Turbocunt,” Teddy hissed, wrapping his hands around his Guinness.

“They said they’re replacing Swift with McMillion for beater,” Harry said, sipping his beer and trying not to laugh.

“Fucking terrible call. Swift can’t protect James for shit. Are they trying to kill their best player?”

“Rumor has it they might put Flint in as the starting seeker next week instead of James,” Harry lied, watching as Teddy jumped off the couch and spilled his stout on his jeans.

“Fucking arseholes! They wouldn’t dare!”

“So,” Harry said, dropping his beer on the coffee table and smiling at Teddy, “How long have you been in love with James?”

“Wait, what?” Teddy spluttered, choking on his drink as Harry laughed. 

There are many good reasons to be salty about Jewish representation in the HP universe but it actually does make sense, given 1991 UK population stats and Hogwarts’ implied size, for there to only be one Jewish Hogwarts student.

#ENDviolence

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Slytherin Aesthetics:: Black

of course i have a lot of pent-up rage you fool i’ve been the same height since i was 12

ravenclaw theodore nott

for @snakepitnet event: taking a cannon to canon

the sorting was taking too long, while an eleven years old theodore nott shivered on the chair, praying for slytherin being screamed out, as his father was, as it should be

things seemed blurry and unfocused when the sorting hat shouted out a clear ‘ravenclaw’ and a stunned professor mcgonagall hurried him to join his housemates at the table

everyone looked at him like he had a troll head spurting out of his shoulder, but as theo sat down and clang to a cup full of water, he smiled to himself

because it was during the first night theo spent in the ravenclaw tower, looking at the very dark, very starry sky, lost in it’s infinity, that he felt truly free

his father’s owls were insistent and constant, but he knew that nothing could change the fact the sorting hat chose ravenclaw, the hat was never wrong

after the second week, the last owl he received from his father, was a single sentence letter, written angrily with dark ink “no son of mine is a ravenclaw”, and theodore nott smiled to himself again, overtaken by the same sense of freedom when he looked up at the sky from the ravenclaw tower

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