flyingdeskset

[flyingdeskset]

[flyingdeskset]

Art isn't in the tools, material, equipment you use. It's in the way you see the world.

— Rick Rubin

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“Mimimi i wanna know what Henry said to Camilla, mimimi i wanna know what happened during the bacchanal, mimmimimi”

SHUT UP i wanna read Bunnys entire essay about metahemeralism

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[flyingdeskset]

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

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"that's not a spoiler, it's in the first line of the prologue," i say as i describe this book to the millionth new person

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if I had a euro for every time a bookish gay wizard-slash-dark-creature with daddy issues became inexorably linked to David Bowie via a popular fan work spanning their school years despite David Bowie never having been mentioned in the source material... I'd have two euro, which isn't a lot but it's odd that it happened twice.

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the delusions. i fear they’re returning.

[flyingdeskset]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Minerva McGonagall/Poppy Pomfrey Characters: Pomona Sprout, Rolanda Hooch, Albus Dumbledore, Fleamont Potter, Euphemia Potter, James Potter Additional Tags: 1960s, Miniskirts, please don't pay attention to the many anachronisms, Mutual Pining, Hogwarts, toddler James, 1960s Music, basically two emotionally constipated lesbians, one of whom gets flustered at the sight of a short skirt, the other at the sight of quidditch trousers, and they're both trying to be responsible adults, minor internalised homophobia Summary:

Poppy my love, Long time no see. How’s London treating you? Listen – won’t beat around the bush. Old Madam Blainey’s after kicking the bucket. Dumbledore’s on the hunt for a new matron. I thought who better than Pomfrey herself? He loves the idea – told me to get on to you. Understand if you’ve gotten too used to the big city, but consider coming back to Hogwarts won’t you? Pomona misses you. Minnie’s here too but I don’t know if she’s capable of that kind of emotion. Anyhow, gotta fly (ha ha, literally) – get back to us as soon as possible. All my love, Ro **** Poppy Pomfrey is a Junior Nurse at St. Mungo's hospital: unfulfilled, underpaid, recently single and desperate for change. When she learns that the matron position at Hogwarts is opening up, she jumps at the opportunity - not taking into account the prospect of an awkward reunion with old friend and first crush Minerva McGonagall.

Minerva loves her job - not so much her love life. When Poppy returns to Hogwarts, she is reminded of the sudden and confusing end to their friendship, and is torn between holding a grudge and and appreciating the sudden change in her old friend's sense of style.

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I ate a cheese toastie and a muffin here today and finally discovered the true meaning of academic validation

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the day i get rid of my crazy fear of failure and my procrastination, it will be over for you all.

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"and you can tell rolling stone magazine that my last words were....... i'm on drugs!"

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"too much music" whats next? too much poetry? too much pain?

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Aesthetic Things in my Life Right Now pt. Whatever

reading with my feet tucked under the bedcovers on a sunny day

sitting on the floor eating sushi, laughing and chatting through a classic film

cramped old bookshops; tattered leather bound vintage books

house parties; boisterous laughter and silly costumes and music and wine

chain-smoking in a fur coat

edinburgh in spring; sunlight streaming through the trees in the Meadows and flowers blooming on the side of the road

drinking rosé straight from the bottle

tidying my room only for it to get messy again - clothes strewn on chairs, books on every surface, fairy lights wound around empty bottles

carrying my laundry through a converted 1910s school; the castle visible through the huge sash windows

clubs and bars lining the street under an old stone bridge; laughing revellers spilling out of tiny dark side streets and supposedly-haunted closes

pretending to work and talking softly in a wood-panelled 1800s dining hall; high backed chairs and portraits and painted crests

organised rows of wooden desks in the library reference room; iron ladders leading to higher books; tipping my head back to stare at the ornate domed ceiling

70s music blaring as I let my hair fall from its rollers

my long wool coat flitting around my legs as I carry my shopping home, mary-janes clacking on the pavement and a baguette sticking out of my bag

stained glass windows in the old university library

attending seminars in an upper-floor room of a dusty old Georgian house

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oh to be immortalised

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maybe i was just crazy. maybe it was the 60’s. or maybe i was just a girl… interrupted ୨୧

[flyingdeskset]

To be a girl is to rot