Prev. / @lavishbylaw

prev. / @lavishbylaw​

He had to think. The whole incident had gone by in such a blur, the only thing he had been concerned about was getting away from it. The good news had been that at least they didn't use any weapons, except he could swear one of them used a backpack full of text books. But for the damage they did to him, it seemed like a small victory. "Hm..." Josh lifted his own drink to his lips, taking a slow gulp as he deliberated, "Well, one of them misquoted 'War and Peace' to me. And when I tried to correct him and just kicked me again and made some racist comment. I sort of tuned it out after that."

The whole attacked seemed targeted to him personally. They knew just when he would leave to return home that evening and knew just the things that dug into him and made him angry. More than just the hurtful things, they were trying to get him to fight back. Josh knew if he hadn't gotten away from them, he might have given them what they wanted. Something like that would hurt his career even more than what he wanted to do now. As much as he believed in pacifism, everyone had their limits.

Josh raised his gaze back to Genevieve feeling her touch on his hand. He smiled, grateful at least she was happy to help. He knew his other friends would likely help as well, but - if something worse happened, he didn't want them to be put in that position. This was his fight.

"Thanks, Genevieve. Really, it means a lot to hear that," setting his cup down he placed his other hand over hers, "And you're right - Those who don't learn from history are doomed to repeat it. It's the biggest lesson I teach my students. And exactly why I refuse to let this go quietly," he shook his head, lowering his head and his voice, "It's not just about me. It's about the other staff, the students, anyone. If the university won't help me, I can only imagine how many have been attacked with no way to help. They need to be given hope, they deserve justice."

prev. / @ceaseless-archivist-jon​

"No, I don't think you do, otherwise you would not press me on this," the frustration was really leaking into his tone now, "The difference is that the Lukas family have been our biggest patrons since the institute was founded. But, they are very private and we have to respect that if we wish to keep their patronage."

Elias took a breath and exhaled slowly, rubbing at his eyes inward to briefly pinch the bridge of his nose, “I will not ask you again. Do not pursue this further.”

magnus archives is the only thing getting me thru this terrible year

the sexual tension between me & what i’m capable of

So you don’t think he did it?

Killed a man in cold blood? Certainly not. He doesn’t have the stomach for it.

SHAKESPEARE AESTHETICS

bold all that apply

Muse: Elias

Tagged by @isitmeurlookin4 uwu

ROMEO & JULIET:

suburban july. scraped knees. bruised knuckles. blood in your teeth. bare feet on hot concrete. restlessness. your high school’s empty parking lot. love poems in your diary. a window open to coax in the breeze. burning inside. an ill - fitting party dress. a t - shirt you cut up yourself. the time you tried to give yourself bangs. biking to your friends house. bubble gum. gas station ice. the feeling that you’ve met before. rebellion. a car radio playing down the street. cheap fireworks. a heart drawn on the inside of your wrist with a sharpie. switchblades. red solo cups. dancing in your bedroom. screaming yourself hoarse. running out of options. the forlorn looking basketball hoop at the end of a cul - de - sac. climbing onto your roof at night while your parents are asleep. flip - flops. a eulogy written on loose - leaf. the merciless noontime sun.

HAMLET:

speaking in a whisper. holding your breath. a browning garden. a half remembered story. furniture covered with sheets. fog at dawn, mist at twilight. losing touch. the ethereal space between winter and spring. the soft skin at your temple. the crack in the hallway mirror. things you’d say if you knew the words. uncombed hair. books with writing in the margins. books with cracked spines. books with lines scratched out. prayers on all souls’ day. a chipped ceramic bathtub. a cold stone floor. the uncomfortable awareness of your own heartbeat. the sparrow that got in your house. shadows. the creek you played in as a child. a dirty night gown. an oversized t - shirt. a collection of your favorite words. soil beneath your nails. ghost stories. the strangeness of your own name in your mouth. deep silence. exhaustion. a cliff with a long, long drop down.

TWELFTH NIGHT:

wicker deck furniture. new england summer. large sunglasses and a blonde bob. a storm over the ocean. patio umbrellas. flapping in the wind. the smell of chlorine. muffled laughter. sarcasm. starched cuffs. day drinking. bay windows. the idea of love. love for the idea of love. love for love’s sake. hangovers. wandering over the sand dunes. a vagabond with a guitar. fishermen with tattoos. a pretty boy with a slacked tie. a lighthouse. growing too close. boat shoes. feeling yourself change. big, floppy sunhats. double - speak. a song you keep listening to. turning red under their gaze. margaritas drank on an inflatable pool lounger. string lights on a balmy night. sleepy june days. fights you’re unprepared for. hope you weren’t expecting. pranks that go too far. bad poetry. pining. becoming less of a stranger.

MACBETH:

the space where your grief used to be. a bird that’s lost an eye. old blood stains. heavy blinds. the smell of sweat. the stillness after a battle. a fake smile. a curse. the taste of metal at the back of your tongue. your house, unfamiliar in the dark. a dusty crib. the smell of sulfur. an orange pill bottle. streaks in the sink. a black cocktail dress. your hand on the doorknob, shaking. a chilly breeze. crunching from the gravel driveway on a moonless night. clenched hands. a rusty swing set. a flashing digital clock stuck on 12 : 00. a snake that crosses your path. an owl that watches you. a dog that runs when you approach. red smoke, dark clouds. cool steel. tile floors. footsteps in the hallway late at night. a baggy suit that used to fit before. visions. insomnia headaches. nursery rhymes. being too far in to go back now.

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING:

the high drama of small towns. a pickup truck. military supply duffel bags in the hall, hugs all around. tulip bulbs. a wraparound porch. a pitcher of iced tea. a rubber halloween mask. someone on your level. ill - timed proclamations. stomach clenching laughter. rushing in. not minding your business. crepe paper. white lies. secrets written down and thrown away. southern hospitality. homemade curtains in the kitchen. a sink full of roses. hiding in the bushes. old friends. the wedding dress your grandma wore, and her mama before her. a dog - eared rhyming dictionary. chamomile with honey. the intimacy of big parties. lawn flamingos. gossip. a crowded church. friendly rivalries. unfriendly rivalries. shit getting real. love at five hundredth sight. not realizing you’re home until you’re there.

KING LEAR:

cement block buildings. power lines that birds never perch on. the end of the world. useless words. rainless thunder, heat lighting, a too big sky. arthritic knuckles. broken glass. chalk cliffs. the pulsing red - black behind closed eyes. something you learned too late. wet mud that sucks up your shoes while you walk. a cold stare. empty picture frames. empty prayers. the obscenity of seeing your parents cry. a treeless landscape. bloody rags. grappling in the dark with reaching hands. the sharpness at the the tips of your teeth. the blown out windows of a skeletal house. decay. jokes that aren’t jokes. biting your tongue. prophecies. aching muscles, tired feet. stinging rain. invoking the gods. wondering if the gods are listening. worrying that the gods are dead. white noise. shivers. numbness. the unequivocal feeling of ending.

A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM:

the smell of wet soil and dead leaves. listening to music on headphones with your eyes closed. wildflowers. the distant sparkle of lightning bugs. a pill someone slipped you. fear that turns into excitement. excitement that turns to frenzy. mossy tree trunks. a pair of yellow eyes in the darkness. night swimming. moonlight through the leaves. a bass beat in your chest. a butterfly landing on your nose. a kiss from a stranger. a dark hallow in an old tree. glow in the dark paint. drinking on an empty stomach. a twig breaking behind you. spinning until you’re dizzy. finding glitter on your body and not remembering where it came from. an overgrown path through the woods. cool dew on your skin. a dream that fades with waking. moths drawn to the light. giving yourself over, completely. afterglow. the long, loving, velvety night.