Does Anyone Else Remember That Sequence In Tsh Where Hampden Like Bends Over Backwards To Get Richard

matcha latte & a lovely letter from a friend

when you try to romanticize school and studying by thinking of yourself as an avid scholar who's passionate about learning and exploring the world's knowledge but in reality you're just a tired student with an addiction to coffee trying to finish assignments

My freshmen year roommate was a complete fucking disaster but he would throw parties and everyone would pass out in our living room and every morning I left for class at 7am I would just get little choruses of “have fun at class, good luck” from hungover stoners and let me tell you, as someone who thrives off attention and positive reinforcement, this setup really worked for me

period drama + writing | moodboard

reading through my first ever austen novel

honestly i love the entire “woman falls for fearsome supernatural creature that truly loves her and treats her well instead of her intended human suitor who is only interested in the status marrying her will bring them and doesn’t care about her happiness” genre because it combines all of the things i look for in an ideal romantic partner: someone tall and strong, but tender and kind, who cares about my happiness, and fangs

TSH Moodboard: Henry & Richard

‘Henry?’ I said at last, my voice scarcely more than a whisper. He let the cigarette fall from his fingers and took a step towards me. It really was him - damp, ruddy cheeks, snow on the shoulders of his overcoat. ‘Good God, Richard,’ he said, ‘what’s happened to you?’ It was as much surprise as I ever saw him show. I stood where I was, staring, unbalanced. Things had got too bright. I reached for the door frame, and the next thing I knew I was falling, and Henry jumped forward to catch me. He eased me onto the floor and took off his coat and spread it over me like a blanket. ‘Where did you come from?’ I said. ‘I left Italy early.’ He was brushing the hair back from my forehead, trying to get a better look at my cut. I saw blood on his fingertips.

hand-written manuscripts by Lee Luvisi

punk academia is:

coming to class gripping your coffee or energy drink as if it were your lifeline

letting anyone copy your notes if they ask, but keeping the messiest notes ever (despite trying to keep them neat)

raising your hand and correcting the teacher/professor when they fuck up during a lecture

sharing your marked up copies of leviathan, the communist manifesto, and the republic with anyone interested

casually debating with your friends

worn out oxfords or combat boots

dark circles under your eyes

doodling on your quizzes (even if you don't think you're any good) so you don't have to be the first to turn yours in

never being afraid to fight against the system when it's flawed (also never being afraid to fight for somebody's rights)

stress. so much stress.

(part two. y'know the drill - add shit!)

when Charles Bukowski said "and when nobody wakes you up in the morning, and when nobody waits for you at night, and when you can do whatever you want. what do you call it, freedom or loneliness?"