A New Jersey trash stereotype wrapped up in neo-Victorian fetishwear and dubiously endearing/terrifying morbidity.
I go by Lily or Dee, or pretty much any nickname you'll assign to me.
Filthy Victorian & proud Plague Rat. Repo! the Genetic Opera, Moulin Rouge!, BBC Sherlock, and Doctor Who. I subsist off of pretty fashion and cereal, and I wear wigs an awful lot.
Atheist, pansexual aromantic, and Explorer of the Indoors. Somewhat of a writer, but a bit too nervous to actually talk about anything I write; I also periodically design pretty clothes that mostly never make it off the paper.
I'm lazy and shamelessly self absorbed and bizarre at best, but I'm friendly. I don't bite much! Swear :3
You don’t have to be 100% sure of your identity. Ever.
You don’t have to run yourself into the ground trying to pull yourself apart and figure out the words. And it’s okay to be nervous instead of excited about a new discovery, because hey, it can be scary. You’re allowed to…