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it's gonna be 2 years since i posted this and it hasn't happened to me yet, will it ever? :')

i want someone to take me to khan market, have ice cream together, walking hand in hand the whole time, on the cobblestoned path eating churros on the way, getting coffee from one of the million cafes and steal kisses in lonesome corners. i want to go to fakir chand bookstore and just look at all the books and not buy a single one because they are overpriced, and them just admiring me as i admire the piles and shelves full of pages. i just want to love and adore and cherish, in a place that's home to me in a billion ways and have them love me back.

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You belong with me. 💚💛💜❤️🩵🖤

Letter on my site :)

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Taylor Swift and Ages (sorted by number)

This list also appears sorted by album.

Young child

The Best Day: There is a video I found from back when I was three

The Best Day: I’m five years old, it’s getting cold, I’ve got my big coat on

The Bolter: By all accounts, she should have drowned when she was six in frigid water

Mary’s Song (Oh My My My): She said, I was seven and you were nine, I looked at you like the stars that shine

Seven: Please picture me in the trees, I hit my peak at seven

Mary’s Song (Oh My My My): She said, I was seven and you were nine, I looked at you like the stars that shine

Teenager

The Best Day: I’m thirteen now and don’t know how my friends could be so mean

Never Grow Up: At fourteen there’s just so much you can’t do

Fifteen: ‘Cause when you’re fifteen and somebody tells you they love you, you’re gonna believe them

Fifteen: And when you’re fifteen feeling like there’s nothing to figure out

Fifteen: When you’re fifteen and your first kiss makes your head spin round

Fifteen: But I didn’t know it at fifteen

Fifteen: And when you’re fifteen don’t forget to look before you fall

Fifteen: I didn’t know who I was supposed to be at fifteen

No Body, No Crime: Good thing my daddy made me get a boating license when I was fifteen

Mary’s Song (Oh My My My): Well, I was sixteen when suddenly I wasn’t that little girl you used to see

Miss Americana And The Heartbreak Prince: I’m crazier for you than I was at sixteen, lost in a film scene

Invisible String: Teal was the color of your shirt when you were sixteen at the yogurt shop

So High School: The brink of a wrinkle in time, bittersweet sixteen suddenly

All Of The Girls You Loved Before: Secret jokes all alone, no one’s home, sixteen and wild

Starlight: We were seventeen and crazy, running wild, wild

Nothing New: The kind of radiance you only have at seventeen

I Think He Knows: It’s like I’m seventeen, nobody understands, no one understands

Betty: I’m only seventeen, I don’t know anything but I know I miss you

Nothing New: How can a person know everything at eighteen but nothing at twenty-two

Dear John: Don’t you think nineteen’s too young to be played by your dark, twisted games?

Dear John: Don’t you think nineteen’s too young to be messed with?

Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve: And I damn sure never would’ve danced with the devil at nineteen

Timeless: There was one of a teenage couple in the driveway

Down Bad: Everything comes out teenage petulance

All Of The Girls You Loved Before: Teenage love taught you there’s good in goodbye

Adult

All Too Well (10 Minute Version): And he said, “It’s supposed to be fun, turning twenty-one”

22: I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling twenty-two

22: Everything will be all right if we just keep dancing like we’re twenty-two

Nothing New: How can a person know everything at eighteen but nothing at twenty-two

Right Where You Left Me: She’s still twenty-three inside her fantasy

Dancing With Our Hands Tied: Oh, twenty-five years old, oh, how were you to know

Peter: And you said you’d come and get me, but you were twenty-five

The Manuscript: In the age of him, she wished she was thirty and made coffee every morning in a French press

Innocent: It’s okay, life is a tough crowd, thirty-two and still growing up now

Lover (feat. Shawn Mendes): I’ll sing love songs to you when we’re eighty

Mary’s Song (Oh My My My): I’ll be eight-seven, you’ll be eighty-nine, I’ll still look at you like the stars that shine

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jess mariano is so fine oh my GOD i need him

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okay so this blew up😭😭😭

mcgonagall when the marauders: fuuuuuck that is my circus… are those..?? yep.... those are my monkeys... goddammit

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mcgonagall when the marauders: fuuuuuck that is my circus… are those..?? yep.... those are my monkeys... goddammit

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This is the first time I’ve found myself inside a Baptist church on a Tuesday,

From the source, the only other famous person Henry has been with? Harry Styles

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some of y'all will defend everyone but taylor

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Suzanne collins wrote a trilogy where a main media propaganda strategy was to market a horrific act of violence as a love story to distract ppl and then it got adapted into a box office breaking movie and ppl made it all about the love triangle. so then since they didn’t get the point the first time Suzanne collins wrote a prequel story about the main dictator and she makes it so that you as a reader want it to be a genuine love story so badly even tho it’s so very clearly not and instead feels extremely unsettling to make her point even more meta which then gets adapted into another box office breaking film and now ppl are making romantic snowbaird tik toks. do u think she’s gonna write another book that’s somehow even more blatant or just give up and start executing ppl? hard to say but I wouldn’t blame her for the second one

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I keep seeing people on the clock app talking about their dream casts for the HBO HP series, particularly people in the marauders fandom. And I just...????

I thought we all collectively agreed not to watch it...

Our fandom is supposed to be a safe place for queer and trans folks. What do you mean you're supporting she-who-must-not-be-named's latest money grab??

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he was a CAD 💃💃💃😏💃🧍‍♀️💃 wanted her BAD 😏👉🧍‍♀️ just like any good TROphy HUNTer 🏆🏆🏆😏 🏹🏆🏆🏆 and she liked the way it tastes 🤷‍♀️ taming a bear 🎪🐻🫷🙂‍↔️ making him care 🧸💕🥰 watching him jump 🧜‍♀️🏊‍♂️🛶 then pulling him UNDer 🏃🤏🧜‍♀️🌊 and at first blush ☝️☺️ this is fate 🌌✍️😍 when it’s all roses 🌹👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨🌹 portrait poses 👩‍❤️‍👨👫 central park lake in tiny rowboats 🚣‍♀️🚣‍♂️🗽 “what a charming saturday!” 🥰💭🗓️ that’s when she SEES 👀‼️ the littlest LEAKS 💦👀‼️ down in the floorboards 👇💦🚣‍♂️ and she JUST knows ☝️🧐💡 she MUST bolt 🏊‍♀️🛶🧍‍♂️ started with a kiss 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨 “oh we MUST stop meeting like this!” 🤣💬🥰 but it always ends up with a town car speed-ing 🚕💨🧍‍♂️❓ out the drive one even-ing 🤷‍♂️🌌 ended with the slam of a door 🏃‍♀️💨💥🚪 then he’ll call her a “WHORE!” 🤬🗯️ wish he wouldn’t be sore 🤷‍♀️🤕 but as she was leaving…🏃‍♀️💨 it felt like breathing~ 😮😮‍💨😌 all her f🫶cking lives flashed before her eyeyeyeyes 🦋🎇🏰🧣🗽🐍💘🏕️🌳🕰️🪶👁️👁️ it feels like the time 🥶 she fell through the IiIiiIiiice ⛸️👇🧊 🏊‍♀️ and. came. out. a-live. 🥶😮😮‍💨😇👍

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papa log really need to understand the extreme importance of their home maker wives ki they are literally making lives ghar mein rhekar and laakh cheezon ka dhyan rakhti hai yeh nahi ki poora din ghar mein rheti hai kuch kaam nahi hota, if you are earning then she is the one jo uss earning ko dhang se use kr rhi hai distribute kar rahi hai she is the owner of your future generations and a literal life giver to you and your kids toh she deserves a lot more respect than you.

Ghar mein rheti hai iska matlab yeh nahi kuch nahi karti jitna kaam you do usse zyada they do, kamaana is important par uss kamai se ghar ko banana internally is the majority and most difficult work.

And apne bacho ko bhi yeh sikhao izzat karna.

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First, I wanted to say that I love love love your Harry Potter fics and what-ifs! thank you so much for writing them :) And I also wondered if you ever written what if the Dursleys had refused to take Harry in?

When Petunia Dursley refused to take Harry in she forfeited his birthright protection, so Dumbledore took the baby to the safest place he knew: Hogwarts.

The applicable staff (mostly just… not Snape) took Harry in on a rotating schedule as he grew from baby to toddler to child. They traded extra credit for babysitting among the older students, and Harry grew up knowing a few dozen different laps that were safe and warm to nap in.

This was a Harry who grew up among books, among old transient walls and learned professors. They gave Binns night duty sometimes, and let him talk young Harry to sleep. This was a Harry whose world changed, on principle, daily. The stairs moved. The walls became doors. You had to keep your eyes open–you had to pay attention. So he did.

He grew up in a school. Knowledge was power, but knowledge was also joy. This was his sanctuary. There was magic in his world from birth.

“The castle will keep him safe,” said Dumbledore, when McGonagall came into his office to complain for the eighth time about Albus’s rather cavalier take on child-rearing. “That’s what it does.”

“Then why do we bother with chaperones ever,” McGonagall said, tempted to shriek it. “Should we let all the children run about willy-nilly at all hours, or just the orphan waifs?!”

“He’s not a student. He’s a ward of Hogwarts. It will take care of him, Minerva.”

McGonagall walked off fuming. A cat with spectacle markings followed Harry almost constantly from ages three through four. At some point McGonagall was far enough behind on her paperwork, and had seen enough suits of armor carry the kid back to his room, enough draperies lift off the wall and tug Harry away from edges, and enough stairs creakingly shift their slope for his tiny toddler legs. She gave a grumpy sigh, stole some of Albus’s lemon drops, and resigned herself to a magical world.

The Grey Lady, the ghost of Ravenclaw Tower, didn’t really like boys but she liked children. She especially liked patience, and politeness, and Harry had been raised by McGonagall’s stern table manners, by Victorian portraiture and quite a few House Elves. He said please, thank you, and ma'am, and as a child he was very cunning in how he got bedtime stories and bedtime snacks out of most every adult he met.

The Grey Lady told the best stories, you see, the ones with riddles in them. You had to think and ask questions to get all the way through them. So he hunted her down with big patient eyes and plates of very smelly cheese, and she told him stories that made him think.

When Harry was stable enough on his feet to walk, and then to run, Sir Cadogan would race him through the castle, the knight scattering banquet tables and galloping across landscapes, twisting through the abstract gallery up on the seventh and a half floor. Harry stumbled and sprinted up stairways and didn’t notice for years the way Cadogan waited at the end of corridors for him to catch up.

Harry was a chubby-legged toddler, in this world–cute cheeks and stubby limbs. It’s a cute image, yes– but this is important. He was a chubby kid. He ate in a high chair on the teacher’s dais, getting peas and mashed potatoes on the adults beside him– Sprout laughed. Snape didn’t.

But this is important–Harry filled his plate. He wobbled up on little legs and grabbed biscuits from the table, slurped his soup, got marinara sauce on his chin and forehead and somehow behind his ear. When he was hungry, he ate. If he snuck down to the kitchens at night, it was for the adventure of it and nothing else. When he was hungry, he ate.

When he was four, they started letting him go sit down with the students. Bill Weasley, on route to be a prefect next year, took him under his wing and scrubbed his face down after meals. Harry was passed around the Hufflepuff table; theirs was the House Common Room he most liked sneaking into, with its barrels and cozy warmth. Nymphadora Tonks turned her nose a dozen different shapes to make Harry laugh, gurgling, as a toddler (and then a child) (and then for the rest of her life, honestly–it never stopped being funny).

The whole Ravenclaw table got distracted from meals, trying to solve riddles from a book one of their Muggleborns had smuggled in.Harry pushed his fork through his gravy, trying to draw out his thoughts but only making squiggles.

It was years before Harry sat at the Slytherin table for the first time–no one had ever set him down there, like they had with the others. But he liked green–it was the color of Professor Sprout’s greenhouses, where he went and napped sometimes in winter. It was the color of his mother’s eyes, from the little book of moving pictures Hagrid had given him when he was three.

All the Slytherin kids seemed big, but everyone Harry ever met seemed big–except for Flitwick, who was seeming smaller with every growth spurt. He leaned forward, teetering on the bench, and grabbed a chicken drumstick. “Hi,” he said, because he’d had a childhood full of tea parties with high portrait society– the French nobility and the tired housewife from the third floor and an old witch with her sleeve on fire but very particular table manners. “I’m Harry. What’s your name?”

By the end of the meal, they were flicking peas across the table with their spoons, like catapult projectiles. Harry had been unwelcome in so few places in his life, after he’d left 4 Privet Drive, that he simply didn’t expect it. He asked Warrington, a Slytherin with shoulders like a bulldog’s, to help him with the juice, which was too unwieldy for his kid-sized wrists. Harry sat there blinking, smiling, until Warrington took the jug and poured him a brimming glass.

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any advice on how to focus on studying? because ngl mere se nahi ho raha

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mother just told me to tie rakhi to kanhaji.. i was like girlll he's literally your damad 😭