Mysteriousdarkacademiawitch - Booklovermushroom - Tumblr Blog

Witch cat

Shout out to European cartoons/animation

and many many others

When Morticia Addams said, "Life's not all lovely thorns and singing vultures, you know," and "Hearts are wild creatures, that's why our ribs are cages."

⚜️I'd have been so powerful if only Cicero had given me his talent for destroying enemies with words...

One thing I didn't expect from The Song of Achilles but I ended up loving was how calm the relationship between Achilles and Patroclus is.

Like they're deeply in love. They're responsible for all those dramatic but lovely and passionate quotes about love. "I could know him by touch alone", "When he died, all things soft and beautiful and bright would be buried with him", "he is half my soul", all of those.

But the relationship itself is so relaxed. They are deeply in love and its obvious but there are so few dramatic, passionate moments like the ones you see in other romance stories, at least moments to do with them as a couple. Most dramatic moments are not about them per se but rather about what's going on around them (the argument about Briseis is one of the few conflicts between them, because most conflicts are more them vs everyone else). They're so confident and self-assured in their relationship and their love for each other that there's no need for drama between them. They're passionately in love but they're also not dramatic about it.

They're passionately in love but the relationship itself is so relaxed. They're like an old married couple. And I love it.

lore mode

⚜️Dear vintage souls, dark academics, I now need your help: PETRICHOR OR THE SMELL OF OLD BOOKS?

The sun loved the moon so much, he died every night to let her breathe...

"I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot explain it to myself."

- Franz Kafka

“The Dead Poets were dedicated to sucking the marrow out of life. That’s a phrase from Thoreau that we’d invoke at the beginning of each meeting. You see, we’d gather at the old Indian cave and take turns reading from Thoreau, Whitman, Shelley — the biggies. Even some of our own verse. And in the enchantment of the moment, we’d let poetry work its magic.”

The Listeners

‘Is there anybody there?’ said the Traveller,     Knocking on the moonlit door; And his horse in the silence champed the grasses     Of the forest’s ferny floor: And a bird flew up out of the turret,     Above the Traveller’s head: And he smote upon the door again a second time;     ‘Is there anybody there?’ he said. But no one descended to the Traveller;     No head from the leaf-fringed sill Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes,     Where he stood perplexed and still. But only a host of phantom listeners     That dwelt in the lone house then Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight     To that voice from the world of men: Stood thronging the faint moonbeams on the dark stair,     That goes down to the empty hall, Hearkening in an air stirred and shaken     By the lonely Traveller’s call. And he felt in his heart their strangeness,     Their stillness answering his cry, While his horse moved, cropping the dark turf,     ’Neath the starred and leafy sky; For he suddenly smote on the door, even     Louder, and lifted his head:— ‘Tell them I came, and no one answered,     That I kept my word,’ he said. Never the least stir made the listeners,     Though every word he spake Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house     From the one man left awake: Ay, they heard his foot upon the stirrup,     And the sound of iron on stone, And how the silence surged softly backward,     When the plunging hoofs were gone.

                                       ---- Walter De la Mare

Quicker

Do you sometimes wonder what your life would be like without people?

I often think it would be better.

I'm not talking about being the only human on the planet because that would be boring.

I am talking about solitude so deep and heavy that you don't allow people to come closer, when you live just next to them.

Imagine a life where you do whatever you want whenever you want without justifying yourself to others. When the words you say don't reach your heart, when your eyes show nothing but carelessness so lightly resting on your forehead.

There would be no expectations, no attachments, no liking. So that, you can easily walk away whenever you want.

Imagine a life when you have only yourself as company.

There's no way I can live on this earth without turning my heart into stone.

Please don't let me hide anymore, even though I want it so badly.

You probably call me a lunatic, a contradiction, a paradox.

Living without people would be easier, but the truth is that's not at all what I want. In fact, I want the exact opposite. I crave meaningful connections with people. Not jibber jabber. Words have a meaning. Words have power. Don't just spit them out.

The thing is, most people don't care whom they speak to, they speak only to fill the silence with speaking. It pains me a lot because it almost always means that I was just a random person amongst the crowd.

There's no point in remembering the conversation that we had, no point in getting attached to you, no point in getting attached to the place I wished to call home. The words that you toss so easily, they will float away from us, so that we could forget quicker.

It's because I was hurt so deeply, I'm ashamed to admit it even to myself. How can I say it out loud without acknowledging the fissures in my flesh, without acknowledging the slimy blood covering my hands.

We are sealed in our own little melancholy atmospheres, like planets, and revolving around the sun, our common but distant desire.

-- Jack Kerouac, Jack Kerouac and Allan Ginsberg: The Letters

“Yes: I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.”

- The Critic as Artist, Oscar Wilde. 

A very happy 76th birth anniversary to you Bob Marley. You may be gone but your soulful music continues to inspire and give hope to people across the world. Legends like you will never be forgotten. 

Alone

From childhood’s hour I have not been As others were—I have not seen As others saw—I could not bring My passions from a common spring— From the same source I have not taken My sorrow—I could not awaken My heart to joy at the same tone— And all I lov’d—I lov’d alone— Then—in my childhood—in the dawn Of a most stormy life—was drawn From ev’ry depth of good and ill The mystery which binds me still— From the torrent, or the fountain— From the red cliff of the mountain— From the sun that ’round me roll’d In its autumn tint of gold— From the lightning in the sky As it pass’d me flying by— From the thunder, and the storm— And the cloud that took the form (When the rest of Heaven was blue) Of a demon in my view—

Edgar Allan Poe

And this is probably the reason he’s called the Slytherin prince. 

A beautiful day indeed.

Let’s admit, we all had a crush on Neil Perry from Dead Poets Society and cried when he died. 

Personal opinion, but I think life is too short to miss such a lit show like Peaky Blinders. And not make edits of Tommy Shelby’s witty dialogues after that. So I made this.