rawest fucking florence and the machine lyrics in no particular order:
no more dreaming of the dead as if death itself was undone
want me to love you in moderation, do i look moderate to you?
this will be my last confession, ‘i love you’ never felt like any blessing, whisper it like it’s a secret only to condemn the one who hears it
because i am done with my graceless heart, so tonight i’m gonna cut it out and then restart
tenderest touch leaves the darkest of marks and the kindest of kisses breaks the hardest of hearts
you don’t have to be a ghost here among the living, you are flesh and blood, and you deserve to be loved and you deserve what you are given, and oh how much
but the loneliness never left me, i always took it with me, but i can put it down in the pleasure of your company
at seventeen i started to starve myself, i thought that love was a kind of emptiness, but at least i understood then the hunger i felt, and i didn’t have to call it loneliness
the fabric of your flesh, pure as a wedding dress
it’s an evensong, it’s a melody, it’s a battle cry, it’s a symphony
but i know it’ll have to drown me, before i can breathe easy
to the crowd i was crying out, and in your place there were a thousand other faces
and it’s over and i’m going under, but i’m not giving up i’m just giving in
in a moment of joy and fury i threw myself from the balcony like my grandmother, so many years before me
and it’s peaceful in the deep, cathedral where you cannot breathe
i know i seem shaky, these hands aren’t fit for holding
i’m not beat up by this yet, you can’t tell me to regret, been in the dark since the day we met, fire help me to forget
it seems that i have been held in this dreaming state, a tourist in the waking world, never quite awake
shower your affection, let it rain on me, pull down this mountain, drag your cities to the sea
and i did cartwheels in your honor, dancing on tiptoes, my own secret ceremonials
a year like this passes so strangely, somewhere between sorrow and bliss
in the spring, i shed my skin and it blows away with the changing winds
i swallow the sound and it swallows me whole until there’s nothing left inside my soul
And how does it feel now you’ve scratched that itch? And pulled out all your stitches? Hubris is a bitch
and i want you so badly, but you could be anyone
drink too much coffee and think of you often in a city where reality has long been forgotten, and are you afraid, because I’m terrified, but you remind me that it’s such a wonderful thing to love
i was in the darkness, so darkness i became
Nothing to see here, just me over romanticizing everything in order to be happy
“We are to be lighthouses to each other…”
A crochet blanket pattern based on the lighthouse painting from Our Flag Means Death.
.║\ ║▒\ put this on your blog ║▒▒\ ║░▒║ ║░▒║ ║░▒║ ║░▒║ ║░▒║ ║░▒║ to show others ║░▒║ ║░▒║ ║░▒║ ║░▒║ ║░▒║ ▓▓▓▓▓ [█▓] [█▓] you are gay [█▓]
- learning crochet (to knit sweaters for yourself and your cats)
- playing cards
- writing letters, journals, stories, poems, songs. anything and everything
- wearing that vintage sea captain hat and never taking it off
- pretending you’re an old sea captain and journalling your voyages and adventures on ship
- playing board games
- pressing wildflowers in old biology textbooks
- bicycling to the city for new books
- having a sublime rock collection
- rocking on your rocking chair for hours just petting your cat
- having countless vintage collectible books on entomology and ornithology
- having a seashell collection
- play with your cats
- go paddling off the shore once in a while
- bicycling to the closest seaside city for fresh bunches of flowers
- taking naps on your rocking chair
- teach yourself to draw insects, birds, fish
- learning folklore and folk songs for sea monsters from multiple languages/cultures
- having ivy and creepers flourishing on the windowsill
- picnicking on the shore, on the rocks
- dressing up in your grandparents’ vintage formal clothes and having fancy dinners with yourself and your cat
- baking
- hot chocolate with marshmallows
- reading letters from old friends
- taking long walks on the beach
-
- always having a boiling kettle on the stove with fresh tea
- collecting different types of tea to try
- sewing kits
- writing letters to your friends and loved ones describing your life in minute detail
- teaching yourself embroidery
- owning a telescope and referring to guidebooks to spot constellations and planets at night
- writing long letters to your old professors/librarians/teachers
- owning paintings with sceneries of the sea and the sky
- owning too many woolen socks (but you just can’t get enough)
- books, obviously
- sliding across the floor with woolen socks because they’re cool
- clips and bows and ribbons in your hair
- wearing aprons on long skirts and nostalgic for your non-existent husband who died at sea (it’s a fantasy)
- owning too many horror and folktale books from all over the world
- learning to make sketches of the faces you’ve seen at night
- owning too many keys belonging to unknown locks
- owning books of asian ghost stories
- dissecting watches and clocks to learn the inner workings and fix them on your own
- painting with watercolours
- learning to play an instrument (preferably piano or violin)
- owning a record player and dancing to the old records in the living room
- learning to read water and weather
- learning to draw human anatomy and physiology
Feel free to add on!
remember guys: in real life, and in this netflix cartoon, queer girls will NOT have threesomes with you just because they’re queer if anything they’ll probably steal your girlfriend for saying some dumb shit like that
Nobody gives two shits about an ENTIRE COUNTRY being hit by two cyclones consecutively. It’s displaced over 160,000 people and destroyed over 30,000 homes.
Yet no one cries.
No billionaires or other countries have talked about donating or helping the country out.
Please help by donating to charities and fundraisers dedicated to helping provide humanitarian aid to Mozambique!
https://support.savethechildren.org/site/Donation2?df_id=3241&mfc_pref=T&3241.donation=form1&cid=Social_Network:Twitter:Emer_Mozambique:Scus_Lp_Post2:031919&hootPostID=23abdd2d4250de3d6b684c68a4fb250b
https://www.allhandsandhearts.org/programs/mozambique-tropical-cyclone-relief/
https://www.msf.org/msf-response-wake-devastating-cyclone-idai-mozambique-malawi-zimbabwe
Marsha P. Johnson (August 24, 1945 – July 6, 1992) was a trans activist, sex worker, drag queen, performer and survivor. Marsha went by “Black Marsha” before settling on Marsha P. Johnson. The “P” stood for “Pay It No Mind,” which is what Marsha would say sarcastically in response to questions about her gender. In connection with sex work, Johnson claimed to have been arrested over 100 times, and was also shot once in the late-1970s. She was a prominent figure in the Stonewall uprising of 1969 and was one of the first drag queens to go to the Stonewall Inn after they began allowing women and drag queens inside. It was previously a bar for only gay men.
Following the Stonewall uprising, Johnson joined the Gay Liberation Front and participated in the first Christopher Street Liberation Pride rally on the first anniversary of the Stonewall rebellion in June 1970. One of Johnson’s most notable direct actions occurred in August 1970, staging a sit-in protest at Weinstein Hall at New York University alongside fellow GLF members after administrators canceled a dance when they found out was sponsored by gay organizations.
Shortly after that, along with Sylvia Rivera, she established the Street Transvestite Action Revolutionaries (STAR) in 1970 which was a group committed to supporting transgender youth experiencing homelessness in New York City. The two of them became a visible presence at gay liberation marches and other radical political actions. In 1973, Johnson and Rivera were banned from participating in the gay pride parade by the gay and lesbian committee who were administering the event stating they “weren’t gonna allow drag queens” at their marches claiming they were “giving them a bad name”. Their response was to march defiantly ahead of the parade. During a gay rights rally at New York City Hall in the early ‘70s, a reporter asked Johnson why the group was demonstrating, Johnson shouted into the microphone, “Darling, I want my gay rights now!”
In 1974, Marsha was photographed by Andy Warhol in a series called ‘Ladies and Gentleman’ where Andy took Polaroid photos of drag queens (photos above).
Susan Stryker, an associate professor of gender and women’s studies at the University of Arizona said, “Marsha P. Johnson could be perceived as the most marginalized of people – black, queer, gender-nonconforming, poor.” Still, Stryker noted, “You might expect a person in such a position to be fragile, brutalized, beaten down. Instead, Marsha had this joie de vivre, a capacity to find joy in a world of suffering. She channeled it into political action, and did it with a kind of fierceness, grace, and whimsy, with a loopy, absurdist reaction to it all.”
Marsha’s advocacy and contributions to the LGBTQ+ community are an important part of our history and should be celebrated. Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera, both key figures in the gay liberation movement, will be honored with a permanent installation in Greenwich Village which should be completed by 2021.
"Have you ever been called home"
I have complicated feelings about Fushiguro being saved.
I know most people think of Yuuji as the tiger and Megumi as the wolf or the rabbit but to me they're both wolves.
abstract flower garden pride wallpapers
lesbian | gay
bi | trans
lgbtq | pan
ace | aro
aroace | nonbinary
please rb if saving <3
more here
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