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Dark Academia - Blog Posts
Hi 👋, My name is Mohammad, and I’m reaching out in a moment of desperate need. I’m a father of three young children living in Gaza, and we are caught in the midst of a catastrophic war. Our home is no longer a safe haven, and the future here seems increasingly uncertain. 💔
I’ve launched a fundraising campaign with the goal of raising $40,000 to relocate my family to a safer place where my children can grow up in peace and have a chance at a brighter future.
Unfortunately, my previous fundraising efforts were abruptly halted when my account was terminated without explanation. However, I remain determined to keep fighting for my family’s safety and well-being. 🫶
If you could take a moment to read our story, consider donating, or simply share our campaign with others, it would make an incredible difference. Every act of kindness, no matter how small, brings us one step closer to safety and a new beginning. 🙏
Thank you for your time, compassion, and support. ❤️🩹
https://gofund.me/fd1faea2 🔗
reblog this!!!!
vote again bc last one was tied (also added juggalo option because i forgot last two polls)
I so badly want to be that mysterious and elusive college student at the local bookstore with a dark academia style and who no one can really tell the gender of, since I constantly interchange between presenting masc, fem, and andro.
Is aizawa still himself? Is he still permitted to teach at the school?
Hmm, no
Aizawa still considers himself a human being and conducts classes, he is too dangerous for others, which is why the director of Nezu arranged for him a "fake class" in which Aizawa is being held.
Aizawa realizes that his body is changing, but he doesn't want to believe it. It was before the incident "M.E.D.U.Z.A."
The "M.E.D.U.Z.A" incident occurred in the evening. After all the students had finished classes, Aizawa climbed into the ventilation and watched two students from class A-1 and B-1.
After that, the bodies of Monoma Neito and Mina Ashido were found in the ventilation with signs of suffocation and wounds similar to paper cuts.
I wanted to publish this poem of mine 😅that just came to me after thinking🤔 of all the things I have through at school this year💯.
So please be honest😁 about the poem and pls give me pointers👀 that can help me improve on future poems in the future 😁.
REGRETS ✨
Over my shoulder the shadow looms like humid air.
Much to my dismay the time I have can't spare-
A moment of truth, for a greedy gasp of air
I only hope for a better day for us my dear.
We wish to be free amongst the others,
To be normalized into the casual ordinary
Living as the best of the worst was momentary.
We have survived but not thrived.
Bright gleams kills the burdens,
Lifting off the weight of notes and appearances,
Our moment has arrived to be recognized.
Yes. I hope to be next to you
Yet the world has bigger things that are due-
I write to say goodbye to the past life,
I had in those corridors and lockers,
And wave "hi" to the start of a new beginnings.
People speak sometimes about the "bestial" cruelty of man, but that is terribly unjust and offensive to beasts, no animal could ever be so cruel as a man, so artfully, so artistically cruel.
Fyodor Dostoevsky
Have I ever mentioned I love cats (yeah I had a warriors phase in middle school what are you gonna do about it?)
— the secret history, donna tartt.
The Secret History
“Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it.”
“I prefer to think of it, he had said, as redistribution of matter.”
“It is is better to know one book intimately than a hundred superficially.”
“In short: I felt my existence was tainted, in some subtle but essential way.”
“Anything is grand if it's done on a large enough scale.”
“Forgive me, for all the things I did but mostly the ones i did not.”
“There is nothing wrong with the love of Beauty. But Beauty - unless she is wed to something more meaningful - is always superficial.”
Totally didn't make this like a year ago but posting it just now what definitely nott
You know how Julian says the divine comedy is incomprehensible to someone who isn’t a christian; the secret history doesn’t make sense if you don’t read it as Richard Papen. To truly appreciate the book you must be Richard as long as you read it.
Spring with the burn of the Sun that gets lost in the wintry winds of the shade, the bloom of a million flowers from the cracked earth of the desolate days of the past, the renewal of life and spirit, the wandering feet changing paths enchanted by the bounty of nature, the hope that germinates from the ruins of past, the crunch of fallen yellow leaves beneath my boots, the green of budding leaves that dominate the pupil of the eye, the time for choosing between cold coffee (probable cold and cough) and hot lemon tea (probable burn of the throat), the joys of laying on the lawn with grass sticking to hoddies that would bid farewell soon (unless you're weird enough to wear 'em in summer cause HOODIES duh), the lazy lay in sun cause cats do have a lot in common with humans...
Autumn with falling leaves; setting suns; warm cardigans; steaming hot coffee that scaldes your tongue with the first sip; tea that reminds you of a lineage of women before you, who have sipped the same recipe, over, and over again, for comfort; baking food for yourself, and sharing it with others; running hands on the soft blanket that reminds you so much of a past that doesn't exist anymore, but was dear to your heart; Folklore and Evermore cause what's fall without TS records; looking at cats and wishing you'd be born as one if there do be a next life, and and and...
Don't you sometimes just love the feel of winter, the entire aesthetic included. In a turtleneck, snuggling in a warm blanket with a classic book and a cup of coffee or tea to keep you warm as you furiously scribble notes about characters, your thoughts and observations, and the quotes that you love the most.
Feels like winter to me.
Children begin by loving their parents; as they grow older they judge them; sometimes they forgive them.
Oscar Wilde(The Picture of Dorian Gray)
it's a race against the clock, but we don't wanna watch
There is a face beneath this mask, but it isn't me. I'm no more that face than I am the muscles beneath it, or the bones beneath that.
— Steve Moore, V for Vendetta
desi pride moodboard: mlm pride flag
"he's freed some fire from ice in pity for heaven. he's left open- for god - the doors of hell tonight." // agha shahid ali, tonight
[ image ID in alt text. terfs dni. ]
desi dark academia set in south india
"girlhood was as ephemeral as a drop of water on a lily pad." // chitra banerjee divakaruni, the forest of enchantments
dark academia moodboard set in uttar pradesh, india
"in the softened light i too am able to look at the taj without screwing up my eyes. as the boy said, it does not change. therein lies beauty." // ruskin bond, footloose in agra
तू जहाँ जहाँ चलेगा मेरा साया साथ होगा मेरा साया साथ होगा…
कभी मुझको याद करके, जो बहेंगे तेरे आँसू तो वहीं पे रोक लेंगे, उन्हें आ के मेरे आँसू
मैं अगर बिछड़ भी जाऊँ, कभी मेरा ग़म न करना मेरा प्यार याद करके, कभी आँख नम न करना
तू कोई जनम भी लेगा मेरा साया साथ होगा…
I would have opened this letter with a ‘dear’, however I wondered for a long time if it would indeed be a correct way for me to address you, after all this time. A lifetime seems to have passed between that evening of 1952 and now, sometimes even making me feel that I have slept through the last 30 years. I would often look at faces of my children and grandchildren, wondering if I am stuck in some never ending dream from which I might wake up any minute now. My hair has greyed in the fringes of my temple and forehead, my smile is showing signs of wrinkle and my fingers feel heavy. It’s not a terrible feeling, I enjoy my experiences most of the time, but sometimes my body feels like it is living the life of someone else. And that in a different timeline I am still there playing with you behind that tree. Is it still there? I was so sure I will forget everything, you, those lanes, that house and all else. Are you also there? Do you also, like me, go to sleep in the expectation of reliving our lives till 16 years of age again and again, like listening to a record on loop or going to see one particular cinema multiple times? If you are coming back from there, can you accompany me back to myself as well please?
This night seems to be taking all away from me again. The moon is cruel.
Henrik Ibsen's Puphejmo-A Doll's House
Deewangi ki had maine nochi, o parvardigara
- Yeh Fitoor Mera, Arijit Singh