Doing Online Classes Really Just Be Like *has A List Of Assignments* *have No Motivation What So Ever*

Okay but Romantic poets coffeeshop au:

The shop is co-owned by Wordsworth and Coleridge. It’s an open secret that Wordsworth’s sister Dorothy is the one actually keeping the place in business.

Byron writes his phone number on a customer’s cup at least twenty times a week. He has slept with approximately 67% of the people currently inside the coffeeshop on any given day. The percentage continues to rise.

It’s been seven years and no one still has worked out whether or not Wordsworth and Coleridge are sleeping together. Are they a couple? Are they intense platonic friends? Are they literal partners in crime who have robbed multiple banks together? No one knows.

Byron asked Wordsworth once and Wordsworth started declaiming the entirety of Paradise Lost in answer. Opinion is still out on if that was a yes.

Shelley starts dating the sister of one of the customers Byron slept with after she swings by to collect her forgotten purse and shoes. Her name is Mary and she has just as many opinions as Shelley and everyone thinks they’re great together. Byron definitely isn’t jealous.

The ghost of William Blake swoops down from the rafters to shriek in approval every time someone refers to coffee as ‘the Devil’s brew.’ Once enterprising six-year-old Dante Gabriel Rossetti figures this out, it becomes a daily occurrence.

The shop is most famous for Coleridge’s pot brownies, which they are legally not licensed to sell but which keep finding their way into customers’ pockets regardless. 

John Keats is the new guy who likes to make really intricate latte art and keeps burning himself by spilling hot coffee on his hands and then making it worse by refusing to just drop the cup. Shelley takes him under his wing after they bond over their shared love of Gilmore Girls. Byron definitely isn’t jealous.

Keats just has a lot of feelings about Lorelai, okay?

Once again, Sandor Clegane proves the age old truth of- why have a man when you can have a dog?

No one prepares you for how triggering classes can be when you’re a sex repulsed asexual in health sciences and have to study anatomy and STIs and the mechanisms of disease and injury and look at puss filled, disfigured genitalia for hours at a time...

And it sucks how ppl don’t always get how that can be so difficult

Evil siblings? Nay, sworn enemies and time travelling lovers ;) ❤️💙

i love seeing cardinals and bluejays together i’m always like “hehe.. evil siblings”

Sex: *exists*

Me:

The Romantic Poets as people at my apartment complex

Blake: The old guy on the first floor who covers all his windows with newspaper and paints all his terra cotta pots bright red. He’s never spoken to me or anyone else, to my knowledge, but he’s been there longer than anyone. On a different level entirely.

Wordsworth: The next door neighbor with the most beautiful patio in the complex. He’s got all kinds of beautiful plants that are healthy, no matter how much everyone else’s are dying. Very chill, but don’t cross him. Has been here forever and has been known to get salty with the management when a repair takes too long.

Coleridge: That one guy a couple years back who we all thought had died because his mail was piling up outside his door, but as it turned out, he was really just asleep for two whole days (?????) and felt really bad for making everyone worry. Wherever he is, I hope he’s alive.

Byron: That young professional guy who broadly hinted that he had had sex on top of one of the washing machines in the laundry area, but wouldn’t say which one. (He may or may not have been messing with me.) Never seemed to work, but dressed really well and took Ubers everywhere. Actually pretty funny, but I wouldn’t want to go on a trip with him or anything. Sat on the balcony smoking a hookah.

Shelley: The friendly, yet constantly disheveled upstairs neighbor who worked for a local nonprofit and was always playing records at weird hours of the night. Walked very loudly and sang in the shower. Every night at approximately eight o’clock he’d laugh a singular laugh at something (”HA!”) and then he’d go to bed. He was pretty cool, just odd. Down for Nazi-punching.

Keats: That male nurse on the far side of the complex who snuck in a cat a couple years ago and probably has like a squillion of them now. Has one plant that is struggling for survival, but he’s doing his best with it. Always seems nice, but is low key intimidating. Has names for all the raccoons who forage in the dumpsters, and can be seen checking out the furniture that people discard.

But did they really brake the wheel?

reblog if you ARE AN ELF, SUPPORT ELVES, or KILLED THE ARL’S SON AT HIS OWN FRATBOT PARTY BECAUSE HE’S A FUCKBOY SHEM

you’ve heard of romanticism, but what about bromanticism? two poets chilling in a graveyard sitting five feet apart because they’re not gay