when straight guys ask how lesbian sex works i feel really bad for their girlfriends because if you dont understand how to have sex with a girl in any way other than repeatedly putting your dick in her you are having some really bad sex
“I know you loved me. I just don’t understand why you didn’t love me enough to stay.”
— Sylvain Reynard
god i have seen what you’ve done for others……
this post blowing up in the lesbian fandom 🥰
sometimes i drink coffee in the hopes it will make me more productive but it just makes me more unproductive faster
were in the same boat, i see
kneeling down beside my bed and folding my hands and closing my eyes: dear god please let me have some gay sex soon and also maybe let me win the lottery so i never have to get a job again. okay goodbye i mean amen
when you can’t come out because it’s 2004 and the movie’s rated pg
When you can’t come out because it’s 2013 and America never changes
when you come out
You can clearly tell who did and didn’t watch Carmilla based on all the First Kill critiques. Oh the monsters have bad cgi? On Carmilla we didn’t even get to see the monsters. Oh the scenes are shot from weird angles? On Carmilla we got one angle and never questioned why everyone was conveniently standing on one side of the room. Oh the plot is rushed and bad? On Carmilla all of the plot was entirely off screen and you know what? We loved every second of it
One moment of silence to appreciate this scene
When I was on s1 of Xena I literally said something along the lines of "god, I wish they would read sappho/Gift each other a poem of sappho" and then this happened and I'll never recover.
my talents include: -liking girls -admiring girls -thinking gay thoughts™ -loving girls -worshipping girls -dreaming about having a gf -being a Gay -looking at girls -caring about girls -crushing on girls
He asked me when I fell in love with him and I knew it sounded dramatic to say the moment I saw him, so I told him this story of my grandma who had Alzheimer's- she forgot her name and the words for fruit and food, she forgot her address and how to use the washroom, all her life lost to the disease. The only thing she remembered was her son's name and when that began to fade, the one thing she always remembered was that she loved him, even in illness, even in insanity. She saw this 6 foot 2 man with a scrubby beard and she didn't know him but she said she trusted him, she asked him to hold her hand when she died. When does memory end and love begin? All I know is- she loved him before she remembered him.
-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The world is a sphere of ice and our hands are made of fire
antique store’s drawer on fb // e. e. cummings // john keats // bill dow // henry dumas // @/wonderlandhatter // @/persimmon444 // stardust 2007 // @/wspieranie
