i wish i had series like heartstopper and films like red white & royal blue when i was 15. fuck everyone that says they are "cringe", i wish i had such a healthy representation of queer love when i was a teen.
if you are cishet and you constantly hate on both of these i literally despise you, i'll NEVER forget how yall tried to convince me that twilight was the perfect representation of love when i was younger.
and if you are a white gay man that says that call me by your name is better in 2024 i sincerely hope you are doing alright now because i genuinely believe only people who romanticize their past abusive relationships continue to believe that way, so boy im sorry.
pls continue to support healthy representation of queer identities and love. and im begging yall to collectively beg netflix to make wlw and nblnb shows and films with a nice representation !!
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i think i eventually want to write a collection of VERY short (under 500 words each) scenes from different points of nøkk's life
but if i post it idk if i should put them in different chapters or have them all be separate parts of a series or just have them all in one chapter or what
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I think I should send Kane, Orin, and Gortash to a costume ball.
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One thing I hate about adulthood (I mean, there are MANY but this is near the top for me):
LAUNDRY.
Not so much the actual "put it in the machine and let it do its thing" part. But the FOLDING part. UGH. I hate it more than I hate grocery shopping (which is A LOT, by the way).
So even though I tell myself every single time not to wait until there's like, five loads that all need folded and almost my entire wardrobe is washed and waiting to be folded/hung, it's what I do.
I'll be good for like, one or two weeks. Fold it as it finishes, etc.
And then?
I let it pile up... up... up...
I hate it so freaking much.
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It seems hard to me when I look at her sometimes, and think how many without one tithe of her genius or greatness of spirit have granted them abundant health and opportunity to labour through the little they can do or will do, while perhaps her soul is never to bloom nor her bright hair to fade, but after hardly escaping from degradation and corruption, all she might have been must sink out again unprofitably in that dark house where she was born. How truly she may say, 'No man may care for my soul.' I do not mean to make myself an exception, for how long I have known her, and not thought of this till so late—perhaps too late. But it is no use writing more about this subject; and I fear, too, my writing at all about it must prevent your easily believing it to be, as it is, by far the nearest thing to my own heart.
Dante Gabriel Rossetti writing of Lizzie Siddal's health in a letter dated 23 July, 1854
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Waking up in the morning to a house that mirrors the mess in my head - Adulthood (Mosræv, 2022)
A little silly song I wrote last year about not feeling very adult despite living alone in my late 20s. I don't think I need to explain why I chose to write this song on an ukulele. To get my point across I decided to dress up as one of my favourite plushies (Freddie, you'll see him in the beginning of the video).
Recorded 23/08/26 - Pre-T - Lyrics under the line
Stay creative, my fellow foxes 🦊💚
Waking up in the morning
to a house the mirrors the mess in my head:
More laundry than floor.
No clean underwear.
It's all a part of life
Dust is swirling in the air.
I haven't showered for days.
My sink is drowning in a sea of plates,
and it's all a part of life.
"It's all a part of life"
said the eagle to the dragon at the edge of time.
How can I call myself and adult?
I'm barely holding on.
Dust is swirling in the air.
I haven't showered for days.
My sink is drowning in a sea of plates,
and it's all a part of life.
"It's all a part of life"
said the eagle to the dragon at the edge of time.
How can I call myself and adult?
I'm barely holding on.
"It's all a part of life"
said the eagle to the dragon at the edge of time.
How can I call myself and adult?
I'm barely holding on.
I'm barely holding on.
I'm barely holding on.
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