THE PRINCESS DIARIES 2: ROYAL ENGAGEMENT (2004)
they call me… 7 Knives. because that’s how many knives it takes me to cook things because I keep puttin em in the fuckin sink without thinking about it
“that’s the spirit” i say as i gesture to the spirit that’s been haunting my home for years. when will they leave or start contributing to the household by doing something like helping with laundry. when will they pay rent
I know we don’t get happily ever afters in real life. I’m a hopeless romantic, not a total fucking idiot. As my friend, Russell, said to me once, “Even with the happiest couples, one of you dies first.” But first there is such unalloyed joy. We went to the supermarket yesterday and we were wandering around and, at one point, he took my hand, because that’s the kind of thing he does. And instantly, I got flustered. Residual anxiety. Remembrance of past battery. Enduring scars. Even though I know I’m hardly likely to get my head kicked in by the salad bar, PDAs can still make me nervous. And then he said, gentle as anything, and I’m not going to do the accent… “If there’s a gay kid in here with his folks, frightened that he’s a freak, don’t you think that it might give him hope, seeing two guys wandering around, being themselves, getting their groceries, like everyone else?” If happiness is a place… it’s the biscuit aisle in Sainsbury’s. And anywhere else I am with him.
received this incomprehensible email from my ornithology professor
the fucking eagles got him
finally made a companion piece to the original
there are some scenes in Doctor Who that just end up being so iconic and I think this is one
It’s been years but I never fail to laugh at this downright dumb ass scene
writing style: author from the 1800s with a severe love of commas whose sentences last half a page
I came out here, to this point, to this place, hoping against all hope and despite signs and portends suggesting otherwise that I might, somehow, find myself having a pleasant experience, and yet here I stand, alone against the world, feeling assaulted, attacked on all fronts, knowing not my enemy’s name nor his face nor whether our battle is done.
If I were Harry Potter I would have addressed Voldemort as “Tim Riddle.” He’d be like “IT’S TOM RIDDLE. ALSO, IT’S NOT TOM RIDDLE, IT’S VOLDEMORT.” Ahahaha classic Tim.
Midsummer evenings are so enchanting, don’t you think?
Happy boys at the lake, pt. 2 (◡‿◡✿)
Sometimes you just need to see this again