[academic-vampire]

The Secret History

[writtenbyhenrywinter]

No comments.

[freakoutgirl]

in many ways i am still my pretentious 14 year old self which is fine

[machinot]

when u look at 2017 and think “oh that’s only like 3 years ago” and it’s actually 12,000 years ago and everything is gone and everyone you know has been reduced to ash and the world is completely different

[prmcafwh]

Do you ever come across a Henry Winter x reader smut fic and gaze up at the star-studded sky and wonder. What would happen if we showed this to Donna Tartt.

[smalltownshrimp]

the five love languages as told by henry and richard:

bailing you out of a $300 lunch scam (acts of service)

carrying you to the hospital after you collapse in his arms from hypothermia (physical touch)

coming to your dorm room after midnight to talk through the logistics of murder via poisonous mushrooms (quality time)

stealing narcotics from the dead kid's parents at the wake because you have a bad migraine (gift giving)

"i wanted to invite you to our greek ritual orgy but the others wouldn't let me" (words of affirmation)

[apolloniansorrow]

not enough people talk about how henry published a translation of anacreon at 18. anacreon the poems about drinking, love, eroticism, and the pleasures of life. WITH COMMENTARY.

not only is it such a well-done way to foretell exactly what his obsessions are about, but like… such an interesting character detail that’s overlooked sometimes when he’s painted as just the ruthless, rigid scholar

edit cause i had a further thought: the fact that he likely worked on this translation while isolated due to illness in his high school years shows SOOO MUCH how he yearns for connection and to enjoy life in its simplicity and actually that’s a little sad???

[laceyyy29]

[cigarettesandbacchanals]

I like to think that in another life Henry becomes a professor

[museumdates]

im exactly like richard papen in a sense that i too am poor and i too, at times, lie just because

[prmcafwh]

So anyway. They're all at least 60 by now.

Camilla stayed single all her life. She lives alone in her grandmother's old house in Virginia, and sits in the rocking chair at night and stares at the fireplace, smoking a Lucky Strike with old country songs murmuring on the radio, and tries to read Jane Eyre, but her thoughts always wander. To Henry. To Charles. To what once was.

Charles never did move out of the trailer he used to share with his girlfriend. Francis's yellowed, unopened letter is still lying somewhere deep in a drawer. He gets the odd job sometimes, washing cars or dishes or toilets. All the little money he has goes to liquor. What more does he need, anyway? His only aim in life is to forget. The owner of his usual place lets him stay past closing time sometimes, and play the out of tune piano, and slurred notes of Chopin fill the empty place, and he imagines they're all still there, in the library, where they can hear him play. But when he's finished, the lazy applause of his friends and the bright smile of his sister fail to appear.

The older Francis gets, the younger the men he goes home with. The doorman sees a new small nineteen year old blond leaving the building every morning, some looking shameful, others almost proud. He meticulously keeps up his socialite facade in public, but as soon as he's home alone, the mask is dropped, the cigarette is lit, and he sits in the windowsill chainsmoking. Looking at the sky. Wondering where Henry is. Wondering what could have been. Wondering why he's still here. His bright red hair slowly but surely fades to gray.

Richard habitually stays up till four or five, looking at the TV without watching it, taking sleeping pills without going to sleep, wandering the city for hours without going anywhere. He leaves coffee stains on the papers he grades. He lets dirty dishes pile up for weeks. Henry still visits him in his sleep, but his shadow vanishes when he wakes. He was born alone in California, and there he will die alone.

[prmcafwh]

Bunny: *falls over the edge of the ravine* Richard: *watches vengefully as he remembers all the insults about his parents and his clothes* Francis: *watches vengefully as he remembers all the questions about enemas and lightbulbs* Charles: *watches vengefully as he remembers all the AA flyers and alcoholism questionnaires* Camilla: *watches vengefully as she remembers that one night he almost exposed her sleeping with her brother* Henry: *checks an item off his to-do list for the day*

[elliewinter]

all of my tsh mood boards that i posted almost 3 years ago

[scribblesbyavi]

Why, of All People, Indians Should Deeply Feel the Pain of Gaza

We Indians carry the weight of a painful history - of oppression, violence, and a long, hard-fought struggle for freedom. We have not forgotten the brutalities of British colonial rule. We remember how our people, innocent men, women, and children were massacred without mercy. We remember Jallianwala Bagh, where hundreds were gunned down simply for daring to raise their voice. In the recent trailer of Kesari 2 you can see those visuals and it is heartwrenching.

We also remember the stolen resources, the famines created by greed, and attempts to break our spirit as a nation.

This is why, when I see the suffering of the people in Gaza, my heart aches in a way many may not understand. And I think every Indian should feel that. Because we, too, were once stripped of our land, our dignity, our right to live freely. We, too, were once treated as if our lives didn’t matter.

Palestinians today are being bombed in their homes, forced to flee their land, and made to live every day under fear, much like how Indians once did under colonial rule of the Britishers. This is not just a political issue. This is about humanity. This is about the pain of a mother who can’t protect her child. About a father digging through rubble with bare hands to find his child's body. This is about children growing up and surrounded by death instead of dreams. It is extremely painful to watch in front of our eyes.

How can we not feel their pain, when it mirrors our own past? How can we simply ignore it and live our happy little lives?

We have to live our life, yes but we must not stay silent. Our history demands better of us. As people who fought oppression and how we earned our freedom with the blood and sacrifice of millions, we owe it to the world, to stand with the oppressed, to speak for the voiceless, and to remember that justice is not justice unless it is for all.

Let us not forget where we came from. And let us never turn our backs on those who are still walking through the fire we once emerged from.

avis

[scribblesbyavi]

it's not fair

[writtenbyhenrywinter]

[scribblesbyavi]

i love dry flowers <3

[writtenbyhenrywinter]

Her take some

[scribblesbyavi]

“I would never pretend to not know you, Connell”

- Normal People (2020)

[writtenbyhenrywinter]

“He knew then that the secret for which he had sacrificed his own happiness and the happiness of another person had been trivial all along, and worthless. He and Marianne could have walked down the school corridors hand in hand, and with what consequence? Nothing, really. No one cared.”