Do You See This Shit My Liege

why are people so pissy about bisexuals in media? a bisexual dating person/s of diff gender after having had a former relationship with person/s of the same gender? that was "queerbaiting" by the directors. a bisexual who is shipped with person/s of the opp gender (when their canon relationship is with a person of the same gender)? that was "homophobia". a bisexual who literally says they are bisexual and had an opp gender relationship that didn't work out? they experienced compulsory heterosexuality and are actually gay, the writers are just too weak to make them gay. literally everyone is foaming at the mouth about any and every bisexual who is not in an f/f or m/m relationship. like, shut the hell up, I don't think you really understand what "bisexual" means in the first place, it's not just one half of a fanfic trope for your fave uwu gay ship.

Bitches are able to read hardcore bdsm porn fanfiction with a straight face but start to grin and squeak like an idiot as soon there is the smallest fluff.

That’s me, I’m bitches.

the utter romantic notion that the stars have a hand in our fate.

people are so lovely‼️ they do these ordinary and mundane things like someone is walking hand in hand with their lover and someone is helping a blind old lady cross the road and someone is dancing in the rain with their best friend and someone is helping a little girl find her mother on a crowded playground and someone's cat is lying next to them on the couch snoring loudly and it's adorable and someone is dancing to music alone in their room and someone just went into a bakery and is deeply inhaling the sweet smell of freshly baked bread and a little kid is waiting for his grandpa to pick him up and someone is making dinner for their family while singing their favorite song and someone just confessed their love to someone and someone is talking about something they love with a sparkle in their eyes and you’re reading this and you are alive and you are loved, everything will be fine, you'll be okay and you'll be happy

❤️❤️❤️

*boops your nose* Send this to ten blogs you think are lovely and deserve a boop on the nose

back at ya and @paranoidnihilist @seaxnce @sentimental-bits @browneyed-brownhairedgirl @desi-culture-is @gothaxngel @threeam-serif @blackbirdstudies

Chidi: Goodnight

Eleanor: Goodnight. Sleep tight. Don’t let the bed bugs bite. Tonight. Imma fight. ‘Till we see the sunlight. Tick tick. On the clock. But the party won’t stop-

Chidi: Shut the Fuck up

𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙪𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨:

empty perfume bottles

abandoned castles

pressed flowers

smell of soil after rain

old books with dust all over them

walking all alone in a museum hall

languages that humanity no longer uses

stars, the moon, the entire universe and it's secrets

Indian Dark Academia - Delhi (mystery academia)

You spend most of your summer afternoons roaming around the monuments, marveling over the minds of people long gone. you find an old vendor outside Qutub Minar, seated with large stacks of books in front of her. Secrets Of Delhi, the cover of the one hidden beneath the rest says. The vendor mumbles its price and you ignore the chill you feel crawling down your spine when you catch her smiling at you.

The dim light of your candle flickers as you flip through the pages of the book the vendor sold to you. The moon hangs low in the sky, as if intent to see what mysteries you'll unveil. What the Sultans tried to hide, stories buried by time, dangerous lores that might be true; you feel the words sear into your eyes. You brush them off as fictional gibberish as you get ready for bed but you couldn't shake off the feeling that you're being watched. The shadows in the corner of your room shift as if in confirmation.

You vaguely remember your history professor mentioning a mad astrologer who claimed there was a "disastrous" planetary alignment during 1757. Exactly a century before the First War of Independence. You cannot help but think of him now as you run your hand over the walls of Jantar Mantar.

You're strolling through the Red Fort and you find undecipherable inscriptions on a pillar of the Diwan-i-khas. You let your fingers trace the letters as you realize that something strange happened here.

The voices of a hundred sufi saints ring in your ears and your dreams are haunted with memories that aren't yours. You catch glimpses of harems and princesses dancing. A sword dripping with blood and a body buried in the hush of the night. Ruins of deserted mughal palaces where you could still hear the voice of a wailing woman. Delhi's beautiful but she's got her secrets.

"And God said, "Love your enemy,"

and I obeyed him and loved myself."

- Khalil Gibran