@moonsanctuary - Tumblr Blog

side blogs:

my dark academia blog- @dionysianbeauty

my ex-evangelical blog- @thepleasuresofsin

my posts are tagged #chey talks

she/her | minor | lesbian

feel free to pm me if u ever need/want to! i love making friends and i’ll do my best to reply! <3

also, terfs dni.

#chey talks

lesbianherstorian

photographs from lesbian couples’ commitment ceremonies in the 1980′s, published in ceremonies of the heart: celebrating lesbian unions by becky butler, 1990

gaycommunist

actually, growing up is feeling like i turned sixteen two days ago. i’ve been eighteen for years. fifteen year olds seem so young. wasn’t i fifteen just a few weeks ago? all my friends and i are still twelve. i’m closer to thirty than to being a baby. i never got to be a kid. i never grew past eight. i can’t talk to my mom. i want to sit in her lap forever. i want to decide everything for myself. i need someone to tell me exactly what to do. the week is going by so slow. an entire year has passed.

holyisthenameofmyruthlessaxe

Charlotte Eriksson

bff0f7

so can we start hunting down white liberals now or what

adamtheredbeard

The full picture is even more heart breaking after you open the uncropped version. Just a heads-up, it's rough

“The Roman Catholic Parish in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan was just grafitted.”

afronerdism

Nah let’s post it. Let’s feel it. Don’t look away.

doobiebenson

butch-bakugo

I notice alot of my followers on here skipping these posts just to mess with my lgbt ones, suspiciously the white popular ones.

Heres a not so friendly reminder, as an lgbt metis person, i dont give a single fuck what your blog is themed or if this is too painful for you to look at. Reblog this post. Reblog this post with the sources of the 751 children who were found.

Your compliance and silence as well as the compliance and silence of your ancestors is what allowed these schools to open and kill first nations children. The children of MY people.

Dont follow me if you cant reblog this post or the one with sources to your political blog or your most popular blog. Add trigger warnings if you must but if your political blog is only focused on the harms you personally face like being lgbt then you need to see some bigger pictures and stop being afraid of angering your racist mutural or actually saying some shit about racism. If you can reblog some antifa graphics or add blm to your bio to be a surface level ally, you can reblog some sources on the genocide first nations people faced and still face today.

They were CHILDREN.

They were murdered in cold blood.

dragonsrequiem

And even the children NOT slaughtered in cold blood were punished in ways some will never understand. They were ripped from their parents arms. They were abused for wanting to cling to some part of who they were. They were forced to cut their hair (a direct link to their family and culture), forced to never answer to their given names and their stories- their very LANGUAGE was taken from them.

They. Were. CHILDREN.

metamorphesque

#parallels

weltenwellen

Carol Rifka Brunt, Tell the Wolves I’m Home

eurydicepdf

personal “i love humanity” moodboard

somecunttookmyurl

there is a tendency with history, i think, because we’re so far removed from it, to kind of forget that all of the people were people

a child 10,000 years ago left a handprint on a wall. they were fingerpainting. a viking climbs up a rock just to carve the words “this is very high” 10ft off the ground. somebody centuries… milennia… ago burned their dinner so thoroughly that they buried the ruined pot in the backyard rather than attempt to clean it. shakespeare got drunk and wrote dick jokes. tutankhamun was a little boy who liked ducks more than anything. a roman carves his name into a monument in another country saying “i was here”. a prisoner, centuries ago, in the tower of london scratches lines into the wall as a tally marking the days. a medieval monk scrawls in the margins bemoaning the boredom of his work.

every human being across history has said “i was here. i lived. i loved. i made something. i laughed. i cried. please do not forget me”

somecunttookmyurl

most of us are not important enough that we will be remembered by name for more than a few decades. we are not kings or queens or great military leaders or innovators or influential artists, musicians, authors.

but all of us, every one, has a deep primal need to persist. we leave handprints on the wall, scratch our names into stones, carve initials into a tree, mark our growth as children on a wall, bury little time capsules. write in the margins of a book. hide notes behind the wallpaper.

reaching out into the future to some unknown human long after we’re gone to say

“hello, you. i was here, once”

somecunttookmyurl

here i re-wrote it as a poem to fit your tag

Somewhere far away from me And impossibly long ago, now A mother holds her child up high To leave a handprint on the wall

A man I will never meet Climbs a rock for fun He writes a message on the stone And he says “this is very high”

Somebody, once Cooked a meal and burned it Took the pot to the land outside their house And buried the evidence

An Egyptian king Thousands of years before my birth Wore a shirt embroidered with little ducks And kept it, lovingly, in a chest

In a prison cell within a tower A man stretches out through centuries And marks off the days of his sentence As lines on the wall

A long-forgotten monk Labours over a manuscript by candlelight And writes in the margins He is bored, and he has a hangover

They leave pieces of themselves behind And they say

“I was here I was here please do not forget me I was alive and I loved and I got sick I had a favourite animal I was here. Do you love me? I love you”

Yes, I do. I hold your life between my hands And I see it, and I love you

I scratch my name into a rock On a tree, I carve my initials And the initials of someone I love So very much

I bury a box in my garden And I write in the margins I reach into the future To somebody I do not know

A stranger who will never know me

“Hello, you” I say “I was here, once. I loved and I got sick and I had a favourite colour

Do not forget about me, please I love you”

recoveryforray

[image description: a screenshot of tumblr tags.

“Poetry. Not really but I don’t have a better tag and I’m obsessed with this.” end id]

somecunttookmyurl

#op i’m *this* close to printing the poem and putting it on my wall

please do! i wrote it for you, stranger i will never meet

and if you print it then maybe somebody finds it, somewhere, in the back of a drawer in 100 years and hold it in their hands and love me as i love them

do not forget about me, please

luthienne

Frank Bidart, from Half-light: Collected Poems; “Guilty of Dust”

guooey

somewhere in the world right now there is a cat making bread and purring. I need you to always remember that

#on my lap

adams

the social network screenplay (aaron sorkin) / the social network (dir. david fincher, 2010) / you are in love, taylor swift / the predatory wasp of the palisades is out to get us, sufjan stevens / bang the doldrums, fall out boy / it's nice to have a friend, taylor swift / planet of love, richard siken

#parallels