finn deserves better

sian, she/her, 18 trans women are welcome here, terfs and transmisogynists are not

[20aliens-deactivated20200625]

ITALY. Venice. 2003 Gueorgui Pinkhassov

[whiteferrxri]

“I love you as dearly, Susie, as when love first began, on the step at the front door, and under the Evergreens, and it breaks my heart sometimes, because I do not hear from you.”

Emily Dickinson

[emilydickinsonshistory]

So sweet and still, and Thee, Oh Susie, what need I more, to make my heaven whole?Sweet Hour, blessed Hour, to carry me to you, and to bring you back to me, long enough to snatch one kiss, and whisper Good bye, again. I have thought of it all day, Susie, and I fear of but little else, and when I was gone to meeting it filled my mind so full, I could not find a chink to put the worthy pastor; when he said “Our Heavenly Father,” I said “Oh Darling Sue”; when he read the 100th Psalm, I kept saying your precious letter all over to myself, and Susie, when they sang — it would have made you laugh to hear one little voice, piping to the departed. I made up words and kept singing how I loved you, and you had gone, while all the rest of the choir were singing Hallelujahs. I presume nobody heard me, because I sang so small, but it was a kind of a comfort to think I might put them out, singing of you. I a’nt there this afternoon, tho’, because I am here, writing a little letter to my dear Sue, and I am very happy. I think of ten weeks — Dear One, and I think of love, and you, and my heart grows full and warm, and my breath stands still. The sun does’nt shine at all, but I can feel a sunshine stealing into my soul and making it all summer, and every thorn, a rose.

Emily Dickinson, April 1852 letter fragment to Susan Gilbert Dickinson (via emilydickinsonshistory)

[everygayisablessing]

Dickinson 1x05 - Shakespeare club costumes

[luntfontanne]

taylor swift // gentleman jack // killing eve // brokeback mountain // dickinson // carol // vita & virginia // fried green tomatoes

“Wouldn’t it be wonderful if all our letters could be published in the future in a more enlightened time. Then all the world could see how in love we are.” — Letter from Gordon Bowsher to his lover Gilbert Bradley, c.1940s

[courtneysbarnett]

star wars cancelled

[ninfanaiade]

♡

[pedalfar]

[sleenie]

[blackarachnya]

[amanitacaplan]

Jodie Whittaker photographed by Mike Pont for BUILD

[shesnake]

Hearts Beat Loud (2018) dir. Brett Haley

[theglowpt2-deactivated20200101]

women be crawling frantically on all fours around the perimeter of their room peeling off the wallpaper

[georgiansuggestion]

two fellows, reclining in Doctor Brighton’s Indian Medicated Vapour Bath (type of Turkish bath), a cure to many diseases and giving full relief when every thing fails; particularly Rheumatic and paralytic, gout, stiff joints, old sprains, lame legs, aches and pains in the joints, at a five-foot distance as their mutual affection is of a restrained and filial kind!

[twilightrenaissance]

bella googling “cold one” and finding beer ads moodboard

[acti-veg]

There is nothing quite so predictable as the climate change report cycle. First, an authoritative organisation publishes a comprehensive report warning how dire the current situation is and how much of a difference we as individuals could make with even relatively small lifestyle changes, such as giving up meat and dairy. The next day a few thousand social influencers come to the rescue to reassure the public that no, they don’t have to make any changes at all to help because it’s all the fault of corporations anyway, so why should any of us have to try? And since it’s exactly what everyone wants to hear, we agree with it, spread it, pat ourselves on the back for being so “woke” then promptly forget that the report ever happened.

[cheekbonered]

australian gothic

- we all refer to the prime minister by their first name. we know them well, and they know us. all of us.

- there’s a man on the street corner who never leaves. “just waiting for a mate,” he says. you realise he is on every corner, of every street.

- you are swooped by a magpie in the same place, at the same time, every single day. “it’s swooping season!” says your neighbour. it has always been swooping season.

- sometimes you hear a woman whispering late at night - or early in the morning. “rage” she hisses. “rage”.

- the prime minister never seems to last long and often disappears through no discernible democratic process. one of them eats a raw onion in an attempt to assimilate. he is gone by morning, replaced by another.

[eatingcroutons]

- Someone offers you a meat pie. It burns your tongue. You have never asked what kind of meat is in a meat pie. 

- The Prime Minister walks into the ocean and is never seen again. They say he was a traitor, defecting to the enemy, whisked away by submarines. You build a swimming pool in his honour.

- The grass is dead, or the grass is Long. You do not go into the grass when it is Long.

- An old man judges you silently as you buy an avocado. You already knew you would never own a home.

- You offer your friend a drink. They refuse. They say they are Designated. You apologise immediately. You meant no offence, and you would never disrespect the Designated. You have newfound admiration for your friend.

- The ground is lava. Your feet burn and blister as you sprint between the safety of the shadows. Everyone knows you can’t wear shoes.

- There are spiders in your shoes. There are spiders in the shed. There are spiders under the toilet seat. The biggest ones, you allow to stay. They lurk in the highest corners of the ceiling, but you know how fast they can run.

- Someone offers you a jam doughnut. It burns your tongue.

- You check your calendar and your house number three times before you turn on the sprinklers. Your neighbour’s face appears at their window. You wonder if you should check again.

- It is time for the Maccas Run. Nobody knows what time it actually is, but you all sense it is right. The Designated stands up.

- Whoever she is, whenever, wherever, whatever she is, she will always be right.

[fluffmugger]

- It’s bin night. But which bin? The streets lie paralysed, homeowners lurking behind their gates, waiting for someone to make the first move.  - The sun is broiling the land dry.  Half the country is on fire.  You look up at the sky and worry about your flood insurance. 

[ileolai]

- There’s a new prime minister, but it’s the same prime minister. Now he’s gone. There’s a new prime minister. You change your smoke alarm battery.

- You don’t believe the stories about the creatures in the trees, but you take precautions. One day, you see an unwary traveller taking shelter from the blazing sun underneath a jacaranda. When you look back, he’s gone.

- The train is coming in five minutes. The train is coming in four minutes. The train is coming in five minutes. The train is coming in four minutes. The train is coming in five minutes. The train passes you without stopping. The train is coming in five minutes.

- No one knows where They came from, what They want, or why They never age or feel pain. Only the children know. ‘’Fruit salad,’’ they whisper. ‘’Fruit salad.’’

- A giraffe with blank eyes and a strange, fixed smile gives you health advice. You don’t question it.

- ‘’Where the bloody hell are you?’’ The woman asks. ‘’I don’t know,’’ you weep. ‘’I don’t know.’’ She asks again: ‘’Where the bloody hell are you?’’ She never stops asking.

[writingsforwinter]

for twenty-year-olds who have never been loved

All of a sudden two decades have passed and you still have not kissed anyone with tongue, or kissed anyone at all for that matter, or had a 3 AM conversation with someone who would rather look into your eyes for ten minutes straight than talk. You have never worn a lover’s sweater or “forgotten” it at home in your bedroom just so you would have an excuse to see them again. You have never even stood face-to-face with someone who makes your hands shake so hard it feels like they’re both having a separate anxiety attack.

This causes you much guilt and self-blame and sadness but above all, an overwhelming curiosity. Are you really that ugly, that unwanted, that uninteresting, that boring, that no one, absolutely no one, has ever looked at you like the only thing on earth?

The answer is no. The better answer is that someone out there, somewhere in the world, is “wondering what it’s like to meet someone like you,” and they have two decades worth of love stored in their veins like a shoot-‘em-up drug, and they’re just about ready to inject it into someone else’s bloodstream. All you have to do is roll up your sleeves and wait for it to happen.

At times you felt so lonely you could stand at the edge of a cliff with nothing beneath you but air and grass and a long, long way down, and you’d still feel emptier than that canyon itself. Maybe you even danced with yourself alone in your room a few times, arms outstretched around a ghost, pretending someone else’s hands were on your waist, someone else’s eyes boring into yours.

Or maybe you fell temporarily in love with strangers on public transportation, fell in love with anybody who so much as accidentally brushed your hand on the way past. For you, falling in love with dozens of people a day was a coping mechanism for not having anyone to love you in return. But people are not eggs and falling in love with a dozen of them does not mean your shell will remain uncracked. One day you’re going to hit the point where you’re so desperate for human contact that you’re going to snap in half and all your love will bleed out like egg yolk.

But someone out there is eating a bowl of Ramen noodles right now, or putting on slippers, or settling into bed. They are doing all the normal things that you’ve done in your own life. They are just like you. They have cellulite and extra fat in all the wrong places and goals and fears and doubts and bad handwriting.

The truth is that they are just like you, and being just like you, they’re looking for a lover too. They’re what you might call a soulmate.

They think they’re all alone in feeling the way they do, but you’re really both two halves of a whole.

And one day you’ll meet them, bump into them on the street, and your two halves will be put together, and you’ll make one.