#unper

[payphoneangel]

📱

Hiii :DDDD

📱 - Favourite app on your phone?

ooooh google docs my beloved google docs. i can work on my fic at work and then come home and there she is, all updated on my computer. Life could be dream (it could be dreamier if I didn't have to work so much buuuuuut nevertheless we persevere)

Ms congeniality goes to my weather app tho bc she always shows me pretty pictures when she tells me the temperature

[angelcasendgame]

🍞 !!!

Hi Unper 💕💕

🍞 favourite bread

I fucking love cornbread. I had it for the first time last year and it truly was a holy experience

emoji asks

[cherrrydragon]

➤ every stranger makes me feel safer (and every person seems more beautiful)

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read it on ao3

SUMMARY ↳ Damian meets a stranger in the bathroom. You grin. “Cool. So…?” You pat the space beside you again. Against Damian’s better judgment, he steps closer. He is measured and deliberate, eyes scanning you for any sudden moves. There’s a mix of curiosity and resignation in his eyes. He sits down beside you, maintaining a respectable distance and cringing at how dirty this floor could be. pairing: damian wayne x gn!reader warnings: references to drugs (molly and cocaine), blink and you miss it underage drinking. tags/notes: pre-relationship, hiding in the bathroom at a party, conversations in said bathroom, soft & melancholic, inspired by this song wc: 1.8k

Damian Wayne is a sort of… enigma, to his peers.

He is the son of Bruce Wayne. It is known. He carries himself a certain way. He possesses a level of discipline that far exceeds his age. To those around him, Damian is often seen as aloof and distant, his demeanor cold and calculating. He has little patience for the frivolities that occupy the minds of other teenagers.

He is the son of Talia Al Ghul. It is not known. He has been trained in the way since he was young. His lineage defines him. He is the sum of his choices, even if they never really were his in the first place. There is a constant battle in his heart. There is little that can take his mind off of it.

So, he tries to find things that will.

He isn’t one for parties. Sweaty, drunk teenagers aren't to his taste. He tells himself it is part of maintaining appearances. Like when he must show himself at his father’s parties, this can’t be so different. He can play by the rules. His posture is always straight, his expression impassive, a silent observer rather than a participant.

People avoid him. He is untouchable, closer to heaven than Earth. His peers might admire his skills, his intellect, and his undeniable presence, but they rarely try to breach the wall he has so carefully constructed around himself. Few try to understand the weight he carries, his burdens. Fewer succeed.

The party is at a low. The music is faded, people are leaning against walls and chatting lowly to each other. They smile at their friends and their “friends.” They lean into each other and whisper into each other’s ears. They interlock fingers and drag them away from the party, no doubt off to find somewhere more private.

…The air in here is suffocating.

His legs carry him away, passing hallways and doors and couples who don’t care about public indecency. He slips into the first slightly ajar door with the lights on and slams the door closed, sighing. This bathroom is quaint, for his standards anyway. He looks at himself in the mirror, bracing himself on the sink. The music is more muffled here, but the oppressive silence of the bathroom isn’t much better.

Until, that silence is broken by a mutter of, “Uh, hi.”

Damian’s head snaps to the side, one of the rare times he's caught off guard. How did he not notice you? You’re not particularly being sneaky, nor do you look like someone who is capable of doing so. You’re leaning against the bathtub, entirely relaxed and content. You look like someone who is completely satisfied with their circumstances.

You give a small, quizzical smile. “There’s room enough for two if you also got tired of everyone else.” You scoot a little and pat the space beside you invitingly. “Unless you’re looking for molly or something, ‘cause I don’t have any. Also, nobody does lines in the bathroom anymore. That's cliché.”

He deadpans. “I’m not.”

You grin. “Cool. So…?” You pat the space beside you again.

Against Damian’s better judgment, he steps closer. He is measured and deliberate, eyes scanning you for any sudden moves. There’s a mix of curiosity and resignation in his eyes. He sits down beside you, maintaining a respectable distance and cringing at how dirty this floor could be. 

You watch him, unperturbed. “I like parties, but I get tired of them fast. Too many people, too much talking,” you hum, stretching slightly. “I hide in here to get my bearings. What about you?”

Damian’s mouth opens before he can stop himself. “I don’t see the appeal,” he admits.

“Neither do I. Kind of,” you shrug. “I only ever go with my friends. Nobody else matters as long as I’m having fun with them.”

Damian’s gaze drifts away from you, focusing on a spot on the tiled floor as he processes your words. There’s a flicker of contemplation in his eyes.

“It is kind of… lonely, though. Isn’t it?” you ask tentatively. “Being around so many people, and still feeling like it’s just you. That there’s no one that really gets you.”

Damian's eyes flick back to you, face passive. His posture has untensed. His mouth twitches, considering.

You blink. “Okay, that was deep out of nowhere. I think the punch is hitting.”

Damian lets out a short, quiet laugh, the first sign of genuine amusement you've seen from him. His inhibitions have been lowered. From what? He hasn’t taken so much as a sip from any drink at this damned party. Is it you? Do you have that effect on him?

“I don’t usually waste my time with meaningless events if I can help it,” he mutters, foot knocking against yours.

You raise an eyebrow, looking at him with mild curiosity. “And yet, here we are. Funny how that works, huh?” Damian nods slightly, his gaze shifting back to the bathroom’s muted décor. 

You let the silence stretch between you for a moment, both of you caught up in your own thoughts. The bathroom’s fluorescent lights flicker faintly, casting a soft, intermittent glow. The muffled thud of bass from the party outside makes its way into the room, but it feels distant and irrelevant now.

“So, Damian,” you start, trying to shift the focus away from the awkwardness of the situation, “what do you usually do when you’re not at these kinds of parties?”

“I didn’t tell you my name.”

You scoff slightly, rolling your eyes. “Don’t try to be humble, it’s not a good look for you.” He raises a brow as you turn to him. “Dude, you’re the son of Bruce Wayne. Of course I know your name.”

His eyes squint, a hint of amusement peeking out. “You’re bold.”

“It’s the alcohol,” you shrug. “I’ve already made out with a random guy a while ago. Not much farther I can fall from grace.” You look over to him, raising your eyebrows. “Unless you wanna make out?”

You laugh at how his expression turns sour. His eyes widen at your bold suggestion, the brief flicker of surprise giving way to a scowl. “I’m not here to indulge in such… frivolities.”

You chuckle, shrugging it off. “Fair enough. Just thought I’d offer.”

He seems to relax a bit more, a quiet calm settling over him. You lean back, crossing your arms behind your head and gazing at the ceiling. Damian remains still, his eyes fixed on the bathroom ceiling as if it holds the answers to his unspoken questions. The silence between you stretches out comfortably, filled only by the occasional distant thump of the party music.

“I like art,” he mutters.

“Art,” you hum. “Cool. What do you like about it?”

Damian’s gaze remains fixed on the ceiling, his tone soft and contemplative. “I find it… grounding. A way to disconnect from everything else.”

You nod slowly, processing his words. “What kind of art do you like? Paintings, sculptures…?”

He hesitates for a moment before answering. “All kinds. I appreciate technique and craftsmanship. But I also enjoy seeing how others interpret the world. A glimpse into their mind.”

“So you have an eye for detail,” you say, glancing at him with a thoughtful expression. “I get that. I think I like art too, in my own way. More abstract stuff, pieces that make you think.”

Damian’s eyes flicker towards you, a hint of curiosity showing. “Like what?”

You shrug, a little embarrassed. “I don’t know, really. Pieces that challenge conventions, make you question what you’re looking at. I guess I like things that have a story or provoke some kind of emotion.”

He nods, considering your words. “Do you have a favorite artist?” you ask.

Damian’s lips twitch slightly as he thinks. “Caravaggio.”

“Caravaggio?” you smile, nodding appreciatively. “Yeah, I can see why you’d like him. His stuff is intense and dramatic, definitely fits with your vibe.”

Damian raises an eyebrow. “My ‘vibe’?”

You chuckle softly. “Yeah, you know. Intense, serious. Not a bad thing. It’s just… who you are.”

He looks away, heat rising to his cheeks. “I suppose.”

The silence stretches again, more comfortable this time. The distant music has gone back to an upbeat pick, but in this private bubble of yours, you don’t notice it.

The conversation flows easily, surprising both of you. Damian, who usually keeps his thoughts guarded and emotions locked away, finds himself oddly at ease. He’s spent most of his life around people who either expect something from him or are intimidated by his background, but with you, there’s no expectation, no fear—just a simple, genuine exchange.

After a while, you shift slightly, getting more comfortable against the bathtub. "You know, it’s kind of funny," you say, breaking the silence. You lean your head back over the edge, turning to him. “I feel really comfortable with you, a total stranger. Feels like something out of a weird indie movie.”

Damian smirks at that. “Perhaps you’re just strange," he jests. His voice is softer now, less guarded.

You smile, pleased. “It’s one of my better qualities.”

"You've certainly made things more interesting," he replies, surprising himself with the admission.

The conversation drifts to other topics—books, places you’d both like to visit, even the absurdity of some of the things you’ve both encountered in your respective lives. Damian tells you as much as he can without revealing too much, while you share some of your own experiences.

There’s a comfort in the anonymity, in not having to be anyone other than who you are in this moment.

Eventually, you check the time on your phone and sigh. "I should probably get back out there. My friends are going to think I got lost."

Damian nods, though there’s a hint of reluctance in his eyes. "Yes… I should too." Not to mention he came alone.

You both stand up, and there’s a moment of awkwardness as you face each other. You extend a hand, for lack of anything better. "It was nice talking to you, Damian."

He hesitates for just a second before taking your hand. "Likewise." His grip is firm but not overly so, and for the first time in a long while, he feels a connection with someone that isn’t tied to his family, his legacy, or his duties.

You grin and give him a small wave before slipping out of the bathroom, leaving Damian alone with his thoughts. He watches the door close behind you and then looks back at the mirror, catching his own reflection.

He doesn’t recognize the person staring back at him—not fully. For the first time, he’s allowed himself to step out of the carefully constructed persona he’s maintained for so long.

And maybe... he doesn’t mind that.

…You were quite beautiful, weren’t you?

notes: school started and inspiration dumped me on the side of the rode BUT,,,, it managed this so hope u like it :)

[rainbow-musician]

you know what? fuck you *unpers your imeter*

[his-heart-hymns]

Mai apni family se around 70-75km door rehta hu woh bhi akele.Mere hometown Mai engineering ke liye under graduate entrance examinations ke coaching centres nahi hai isliye.

So to kill my lonliness mai kisi bhi random topics jo bhi mujhe pasand hai unper post karta hu ya kisi ke sath hasi-mazak kar leta hu.

Jab bhi mujhe baat karne ka man karta hai toh mai koi bhi random post kar deta hu.

[verses-n-moon]

Kuch log hamesha log he rehte hain, apne mhi ban pate unper jitni muhabbat nichawar kar len wo akhir mein apka khuloos, muhabbat apke munh pe mar dete hain. logo ko muhabbat aur khuloos raas nhi ata. wo uska jawab apne zarf ke mutabiq dete hain.

As Adeem Hashmi said,

تمہارا ظرف ہے تم کو محبت بھول جاتی ہے، ہمیں تو جس نے ہنس کر بھی پکارا یاد رہتا ہے۔ عدیم ہاشمی

[staunton-duchamp]

The Opening

Note: NOT an existential crisis. I'm just doing me a little think.

I have not existed for a good many years now. I disappeared, vanished as best I could, into places I wouldn't think to look for myself. Quite completely lost. It has been divine.

In spite of this disappearance, I have as of yet managed to persist faithfully in my adventures, taking in and drinking deeply from lovely and lonely corners of Place. I believe this is possible, that ghosts can be. That they can roam and take and drink deeply. That they can speak and be heard and even move this thing or that from here to there. I think perhaps even that some ghosts can command a more persuasive presence than many of their corporeal cousins, being of such an unlikely sort that we're all a bit unpleasantly surprised when they find a way to remind us of their parenthetical actuality. But I'm not sure that ghosts exist.

It's not enough to be, or be observed. I'm aware that there are centuries of philosophical flambering surrounding what constitutes or justifies an existence. Whether it is flatly illusion, or whether the perception of the illusion proves that it ain't, whether reality is shared, and if thinking alone allows one to am. It's kind of fun, but it doesn't change the taste of butter for me. What does better or bitter my butter, and the point of all this dressage, is creation.

The distillation of ability and idea to realize and stabilize an experience.

This is a personal, and very specific definition that will probably not survive the afternoon. If I believed it to be universal I'd:

1. Be a pretentious ass (though I still am) and,

2. Be very wrong (see above).

I don't mean to put a box around art and creativity. Both would very immediately leak out, through the giant and numerous holes left by the pathetic craftsmanship of my logic. For instance, I recognize the validity of ephemeral art in spite of its inherent instability. I believe this trait intensifies the subject the same way mortality intensifies our experiences. Oblivion is a potent spice.

I also am very much warming to the slippery and gelatinous counterpoints of Conceptual Art. I recognize that when we venerate a pre-existing object, icon, or even idea, it can elevate us and our experiences. I am forced to recognize this in spite of its extreme and natural progression towards justifying literally anything (including ourselves and our unrealized, un-stabilized experiences) as Art, but admittedly, I'm not quite there yet. Otherwise I wouldn't feel like I'd disappeared.

Which I do.

And that's odd, because I didn't actually stop creating. I made tons of drawings (some of which make me uncomfortably proud), wrote a bunch of songs (a few of which are almost fun) and even composed a handful of poems (one of which isn't about snails). Because this key tenet of my life wasn't perturbed (was unperturbed?), I should have likewise observed minimal turbing per my existence (maximal turbing unper existence), but I'm quite positively certain the opposite occurred (I was very, very turbed).

I know this only because recently I began to exist again.

Which brings me

as everything does these days

to Chess.

[payphoneangel]

tumblr i swear to fucking god if you don't let me reblog the Deanstag post

[angelcasendgame]

first thought was to go CARMINE CARMINE CARMINE but also charcoal 🤝

OFC I ACCEPT 💜💜💜💜💍 you're the absolute sweetest. A bouquet of roses for you!! 🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

Carmine: I'm on one knee proposing <3

Charcoal: You have the best takes

Ask game

[sufism786-blog]

( read post ✍️) ✨FANAH AUR BAKHA : Aouliya Per Mout Ki Hawah Aise Chalti Hai, Jaise Bagh E Naseem Ki Hawah Khush Gawar Huwa Karti Hain - Rumi r.a. Gour E Talab Ye Hai Ke Ye Konsi Mout Ki Baat Ho Rahi? Wajood Ki Mout Ki, Ya Aur Kuch Aur Hain. Wajood Ki Mout Ka Gham Hargiz Auliya Ko Nahin Rehta Balke Iss Wajood Se Chutkara Kab Hoga Iska Intezar Rehta Hain. Haqiqat Jaan Ne Ke Baad Ye Fani Duniya Me Hargiz Dil Nahin Lagta, Kab Uss Zaat E Haqiqi Se Wasil Hojaye Inki Tamanna Rahti Hain. Lekin Auliya Allah Ko Iss Wajood Me Rehna Hoga Unper Kuch Zimmedariya Hoti Hain, In Per Un Neak Bando Ki Islah Aur Haq Ki Raah Aur Raah E Raast Dikhlane Ki Zimmedari Hoti Hain. Hadees E Nabvi Sallallahu Aaihi Wasallam Hain Ke," MOUTU ANTA QABLUL MOUTU", Marne Se Pahle Marjawo. Ye Konsi Mout Ki Baat Ho Rahi Jo Sarkar E Doa Aalam ﷺ Ne Farmaya. Darasal Azal Se Jo Insan Is Duniya Me Aya Hai Woh Kyon Aya Hai? Kis Wajah Se Allah Tala Ne Adam Ki Taqleeq Ki? Aur Iss Kayinat Ko Banaya? Aur Abad Tak Jo Insan Ayenge Inka Maksad Kya Hai? Mai Kon Hu? Kaha Se Aya Hu? Kaha Jawunga? Ab Karna Kya Hai? Jo Banda In Sawalaon Ke Jawab Jaan Jata Hai Tab Hi Uski Haqiqi Mout Hoti Hai Aur Wusme Wo Zaat Zinda Jawida Ho Jati Hain. Tab Uska Dekhna Uska Nahi Hota Uska Bolna Uska Nahi Hota Uska Chalna Phirna Sona Uska Nahin Hota. Ye Hi Auliya Allah Ki Haqiqi Mout Aur Hayat. Apne Aapki Ki Mout, Duniya Ki Har Khwaish Ki Mout, Yahin Fanah Aur Baqah Hain. ( Admin ✍️ #amjadnazeeri ) *اَلسَّلاَمْ عَلَيْــــــــــــــــــــكُمْ وَ رَحْمَةُ اللہِ وَبَرَكَاتُهُ* Share your views in comments. TAG someone 💞 ___________________ Turn on your post notification 👉@khudi.ki.pehchan 👈 ___________________ Follow ☑️ @khudi.ki.pehchan Like 👌 #nazeeri Share 👍 Spred #sufism #khudi #khudikipahchan #haqkipehchan #kamilpeer #yarasulallah #yanabi #sallallahualeyhivesellem #yarasoolallah #yarasoolallahﷺ #yanabisalamalayka #yanabiﷺ #yanabiallahﷺ #madina #madinah #madinasharif #madinamunawara #madinaty_city #mekahmadinah #almadina https://www.instagram.com/p/Cltx0zvP8_M/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[shivroyslut]

HE EAT THE MANGO

[cuntisthereason]

hi for the love of god hello aki 🌼

omg hiiiii bestie you got cas!!!!!!

[gales-boyfriend]

🥰💗💗💗💗💗

[misha-69innit]

happy samstag 

[kapol-id]

601 Mahasiswa Unper, KKN di Tasik Utara TASIKMALAYA, (KAPOL).- Universitas Perjuangan (Unper) Tasikmalaya melepas 601 mahasiswa yang akan menjalani Kuliah Kerja Nyata (KKN) dengan penempatan di wilayah utara Kabupaten Tasikmalaya, Kamis (18/7/2019).

[spnblrcompliments]

unper @afeelingsosweet! true to her url because this is how i feel when i see her on the dash! amazing amvs and such a joy to talk to about dta and succession!! 

- @joeofchitaqua