So I Made A South Asian Dark Academia Mood Board...

Poem I wrote about eating fundip like two years ago

Nothing is more in character than the fact that I’m currently drinking mountain dew out of a wine glass

I just saw a light academia/ cottagecore text post that was like “I wish I could grow little flowers in my hair” and at first I was like *yeah, that would be dope* but ya know what NO it wouldn’t be, it would be awful. I can barely brush my hair on a GOOD day and now I wanna detangle and manage fLoWeRs ni sir it would not work for me. Not only that but buggggssss in your hairrrrr allll the timeee, you sit outside and a bee just lands IN YOUR HAIR I couldn’t do it. It’s a romantic, lovely, dreamy idea that I just thought way too hard about but wow no thank you

Being a dark academic be loving learning and studying but also not studying and hyperfixating on one wikipedia page at the same time

I have decided that if I have a child, it’s name, regardless of gender, will be Perry. It’s perfectly gender neutral and meaningful to me as it is the name of one of my role models in life. They are protective, smart and overall caring to the people that love them.

I think, legally, if you see someone not wearing a mask, you should be able to walk up to them and rip out their heart with ur bare hand

Ok but...

Bellatrix Lestrange is so adorable in that insane murderess kinda way

26-year-old Jamarion Robinson’s grandmother Beverly Nixon said her grandson was bipolar and schizophrenic. Still got shot 76 (!!!) times. Would a white person get the same treatment?

The witness said he saw more than a dozen patrol cars at the complex where US Marshals killed Robinson on August 5, 2016. Why were there no behavioral specialist? Surely one of them would know how to interact with a bipolar schizophrenic better than the police.

I’m absolutely disgusted.

Here’s Jamarion’s mother’s GoFundMe in case anyone is willing to help.

#JusticeForJamarion   #BlackLivesMatter

CPD just killed a fifteen year old child.

i see your 'there was only one bed' and raise you 'there were two beds but in the middle of the night, you still slip into mine and i don't complain because you're sick with a cold/fever because we were running away from the authorities last night and it was pouring rain, and i wake up the next morning and we're not cuddling or anything, although i wish we were, but we're facing each other and oh my god, you're still asleep and i can see every strand of disheveled hair, every freckle, every eyelash, every single detail of your face, illuminated by the 6 am sunrise from the molding motel window behind you, is this love?'

go fish