TVSTRANGERTHINGS
hello vonnie
★
⁂
art blog(derogatory)
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
No title available
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
occasionally subtle
RMH
wallacepolsom
roma★
Not today Justin
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
JBB: An Artblog!
izzy's playlists!
No title available
Peter Solarz
sheepfilms
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from Hong Kong SAR China
seen from T1
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from T1
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from Netherlands
seen from Pakistan
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Iraq
@personalassistantpet
I cant tell you how many people have come to the notes of my dirtposts and memes just to be like:
"Ough Wow, yeah, I dont actually like HDG, because of Blah blah blah blah blah-"
WHO ASKED???? WHO FUCKING CARES????? LET ME ENJOY THINGS!!!!!!!
Dancing Under the Orchids
Affinification, siscest, Plampt :3
20 months - or was it 30, the time lost without the grace of your big sister only seems to add up like an impossibly slow hourglass. Each grain of sand sinks into your heart without her.
It has been well over a year now since they arrived in their ships and saved this system from its hell, the Affini and their Compact, the same ones which you know in your heart of hearts stole your big sister from you.
You’ve seen the broadcasts, you’ve watched your friends, all of them sinking into that mindless bliss that is being the Affini’s treasured pets.
You get it, of course. Once upon a time you were offered the chance to become it, but after you refused they all seemed to accept it.
Sometimes you dream of the one who may own your sister coming to you with her in tow, a play date with the woman you used to look up to so much. She always took care of you, stood by your side every step of the way throughout life.
You wish you could just hug her one more time. Tell her how thankful you are for all of this, all of the life you’ve been given by her hand.
Something wakes you from your stupor, a knock on the door out in the living room. Visitors aren’t impossible but we all are surviving well enough for a wellness check to be unneeded.
It’s with a start you hear your mother walk from her room out, and it’s then you hear her stop at the end of the hallway. Something is catching her off guard.
You follow soon after, opening your door just as your mother takes the first careful few steps towards the barrier between the outside and in.
You hear the door open just as you reach the spot where you watched your mother stand, half peeking out through the hall. Past her, half in the glass and open air stands someone.
You first notice the smell, floral and heavy with an undertone of something that brings memories of snuggling with your sister. Then, the rhythm all of their kind gives starts to sink into you. It pushes at your resistance, at anything that seemingly doesn’t bring you specifically any comfort.
Then, visuals finally parsing through the shaken mind, the image of the being becomes known. White petals all over their arms and across their body sink into hues of faint pink near their stems. They hang down like the vines that make up their being, shifting and rearranging in a constant beauty of the human form.
You, above all of this, know the flower intrinsically. Phalaenopsis, Moth Orchids. Native to Terra, a memory of spending time trying to grow them with your sister hangs off the tip of your tongue. She always seemed to take such good care of things, just like you.
Mother doesn’t get a chance to speak. Instead, the familiar sounding voice of the alien sings into the two of us.
“Good afternoon, mother dearest.”
-
She stands across from you, studying the items atop the recreation of her shelf from a time that feels universes ago. Seeing her in this form feels like an undoing of every law of the universe you’ve ever had the chance to learn.
Erica Phaelen, First Bloom is her name. Even after all this time, though, she still wants you to call her Big Sis. Some things never change, like the blush on your face as you watch your sister fiddle with the small mementos.
How strange it is that she seems not to care about the objects in specific, only taking interest in the things that we share a memory with. When she looks at you especially, the gems that look so dull radiate that golden and velvet purple light from within the face that looks so awfully familiar, so much like your dreams.
Your face burns brighter than the sun as she turns around, the mass of the fluff shifting as she rests her giant form atop your bed. Your legs squeeze together as she sits next to you, hiding the heat that builds in you.
“I’ve missed you, you know that?” Her words fade in and out of existence like the tide, singing like songs the two of you used to sing on the rooftop alongside the radio.
“So much.” she continues, scratching her oversized hand into your hair, reaching all the spots she knows you love. “You were always who I was thinking about as I became myself, sis. Every single moment.”
You want to tell her the same, that you’ve been dreaming of her for every moment in the last figurative century you’ve been apart, but her assault on your head feels so good, her hand flaying into dozens of independent vines that all scratch and massage at your head and neck.
She can tell how you feel, though. Her smile only warms as she pulls you in close. “I hope you’ve been able to take care of yourself while I was gone. I was always so worried that you wouldn’t; that you may not get on a Class-G prescription, that you would struggle and hurt and ache just like me.”
Her fingertips grow claws that slowly cut seamlessly at your shirts sleeves. She shudders as you yelp, razored tips causing your skin to bleed just slightly.
“I couldn’t stand to be away from my little sister, from the cutest thing in the compact. But that’s all in the past, and you will never know a moment without me again.”
You don’t know whether to cry in yearning or relief, or in the trickles of pain and sensation down your body as her touch slowly moves across you.
“You’ve grown so wonderfully for me, my little sister~ such a precious little body to enjoy~ I’m so happy the others understood what I meant~”
You fail to manage the words to ask in your shaking voice what she means before she spins you around so that you face her directly. Her smile is full of those long fangs you know her kind to have, an inkling of her hunger sinking into you from the gesture alone.
Her hands, now all but given up the idea of maintaining a human form, hold you firmly to her. They start to explore your surface from underneath your clothes, rubbing against sensitive spots you couldn’t have dreamed her her groping.
Those hammered metal gems that make up her eyes, shining against a plant form of her old hairstyle, mix into those golds and purples a deep. bloody red.
She nearly growls when you whimper, her giant form leaning down closer to you. The patterns in her eyes only grow in their intensity, eating away at your ability to fight back.
You don’t notice how much of her is around you now, a little nest built of flora and her rhythms that feels more like a prison each second wrapping around the two of you.
You only notice when you hear the click, the lock on the door sealing you from the world. From escaping your sister.
“I…” She growls, pants of golden pollen escaping her lips, “I have something for you.”
Her chest unfurls, her massive breasts parting into a pit of her love. You can feel her machinations, her rhythms, her love sing from the pink floral globe in the center, practically watching your back through the thousands of individually squirming, grasping vines.
From that cavity are taken two things. One is a stack of paper, the other a vase full of liquid. The pages are all written onto, some parts written in a language that looks like her songs. The vase holds something within its glass walls, a shifting thing of those same deep pink vines that make up her being.
You can feel how excited she is. How, once these gifts find their completion, once more will you both be related by blood.
You know what this means, deep inside of you. Something you didn’t want to accept when she first took you away into this room. You look up into her eyes, seeing your own scared expression inside of them. You can feel her relishing every second of it.
Her arms, both longer than your entire body, rest atop your shoulders. Her head lowers yet, so close to yours you can practically feel the heat radiating off of it.
“Mine.”
You don’t know when the first needle, the compounds in it filling you with such impossible pleasure, pierces your skin. All you can feel is the pressure of her lips pressing into yours, of the tongues all filling your mouth and tasting every corner of the mouth she owns now, of the feeling as her love bulges your thought.
Most of all, of the dreams of this moment being realized in a way you couldn’t have ever imagined.
Cute little rainbow heart for pride month tumblr but how about you stop disproportionally banning trans women and marking sfw queer posts as mature
she’s one compliment away from becoming unstoppable
hey. you have to love your trans brothers of color okay. and your trans sisters of color. and your nonbinary siblings of color. you have to okay. its simply non-optional
when i checked in to the hotel they gave me a free cookie, as is customary at this chain, and she let me know “you can ask for as many as you want” (didn’t tell me this last time) — “but, ehh, we wouldn’t want you to have a tummy full of cookies, would we? tsk tsk”
???!!!
like first of all… yes we do!!!!
You'd think the hard part would be convincing it to sit in my lap in the first place, but no it was pretty easy. Actually the hard part is not doing anything weird for long enough that I can slowly increase the level of inappropriate contact while maintaining plausible deniability.
not sure what to put as the caption but. yeah!!!!
Here’s my take on this.
Intersex bodies do not need correcting, intersex bodies are not unnatural. Intersex people deserve autonomy.
Stop nonconsensual intersex surgeries.
if you've never been clinically depressed, this is the short version
also you wanna see The Best Art Ever?
behold. the best art ever.
this comic was originally meant to be a metaphor about my current depressive slump, but o was ironically too depressed to do more than 7 pages. i also didn't realize that it's kind of just Kafka's Metamorphosis but ✨for girls✨
this comic is making the rounds again. time for a million people to once again fail to understand that the "✨for girls✨" part is a joke.
waiting room at the sci-fi future elective surgery clinic
version with thought bubble + fundraiser for my gender-affirming surgery which inspired the creation of this piece.
waiting room at the sci-fi future elective surgery clinic
version with thought bubble + fundraiser for my gender-affirming surgery which inspired the creation of this piece.
Polyamory is safe for work. Polyamory is safe for kids. Polyamory is safe for day time tv. Polyamory isn’t more sexual than any other relationship and it can be just as romantic, sweet, and healthy.
Aggressively reblogs.
if you suck on her tits hard enough she'll lactate eventually. i promise. you just have to keep trying.
Pride Month Reminder:
T4T does not, nor has it ever meant, exclusively transfem for transfem.
It's *just* trans 4 trans
What kind of trans does NOT matter. It's all t4t
