They say, if you’re lucky, when you are at your deepest sleep you may hear the gentle strum of a true lady’s harp. As you listen to the plucking of golden strings and her enchanting voice, she will advise you to heed the warnings that ring through your ears. And if you do so you may just live to hear that melody again.
*incoherent banshee noises*
she could scarcely see an object in that room which had not an interesting remembrance connected with it. Everything was a friend, or bore her thoughts to a friend; and though there had been sometimes much of suffering to her; though her motives had often been misunderstood, her feelings disregarded, and her comprehension undervalued; though she had known the pains of tyranny, of ridicule, and neglect, yet almost every recurrence of either had led to something consolatory
Mansfield Park, Jane Austen
Handwritten letters and a walk to remember.. Is that too much to ask for!?
I have no count of how many times I have wrote about missing you on tumblr. When I should actually be saying it directly too you. But there is no way I will have the courage to be let down by you again.
“Bonnard’s Nudes” by Raymond Carver
His wife. Forty years he painted her.
Again and again. The nude in the last painting
the same young nude as the first. His wife.
As he remembered her young. As she was young.
His wife in her bath. At her dressing table
in front of the mirror. Undressed.
His wife with her hands under her breasts
looking out on the garden.
The sun bestowing warmth and color.
Every living thing in bloom there.
She young and tremulous and most desirable.
When she died, he painted a while longer.
A few landscapes. Then died.
And was put down next to her.
His young wife.
Jules Rylan, from “how it is to be twenty”, gravecleaner (2020)
[text id: i feel scared i will someday forget
how it is to be twenty, in this quiet place,
surrounded by so much good]
“Sometimes I feel my skin must be hot with repulsion and with the effort to keep that repulsion hidden. I’d forgotten about him. The manipulation, the purring persuasion, the delicate bullying. A man who finds guilt erotic. And if he doesn’t get his way, he’ll pull his little levers and set his punishment in motion.”
- Gone Girl
“You disappoint me, I didn’t expected this from you”
What disappointment? What expectations? You’re wrong to put your expectations in me, wanting me to be the perfect version of how you’ve imagined.. I’m only one, and can’t satisfy everyone for how they want/expect me to be… All I want is to be “ME” PERIOD!!
22.01.2021 Quiet days at home watching Anne with an E.
Find me on Instagram
Alright you sons of bitches. I’m getting a bit sick of the argument that thinking of things as ‘guilty pleasures’ or as not great pieces of media is somehow problematic. like, you’re literally buying into the argument that the huge white corporations want you to. Look, I’m all for the idea that we should be more inclusive in our media, I’m a queer gay woman for fucks sake, but saying that critiquing the media you like is somehow sexist or rude is *exactly what these people want so that they can make more money*. Being more critical of the media we enjoy and take part in is how we get more media that actually represents us well. In 2021 there is STILL little to no media that looks at trans people as anything other than a plot point or as a shocking revelation. Stop simping for corporations and rich authors who don’t give a shit about you. Liking Twilight and being proud of it doesn’t make you a feminist, and what you end up doing is promoting more of the same unapologetic pandering bullshit women and minorities have been stuck with.
Also, I see you non-queer, hyper privileged folk being like “well this is the only media minorities have, so we should promote it.” OKAY MAYBE THE PROBLEM IS THAT WE ARE STILL HELLA UNDERREPRESENTED. That doesn’t make our media any better. Plus if I see another piece of trans media do nothing but sexualize/hyper feminize/hyper masculinize us I’m gonna fucking lose it.
“so if you do this, this, and this …” she says, leaning in to click around the computer screen as I lean back and hold my hands away, “you’re done!”
“thanks,” I mutter staring at the screen despondently. she smiles, bobs, and walks away. It’s nice and all that the assignment’s done, but her clicking around and finishing it didn’t help me figure out how to do it.
Dark Academia: Personal
That’s the thing about human life- there’s no control group, no way to ever know how any of us would have turned out if any variables had been changed.