oozey mess
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Claire Keane
Product Placement
Jules of Nature
Show & Tell
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
Kiana Khansmith
JBB: An Artblog!
Acquired Stardust
NASA
★
No title available
Today's Document
tumblr dot com
No title available
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Peter Solarz
we're not kids anymore.
sheepfilms
seen from Canada
seen from Germany
seen from Türkiye
seen from Netherlands
seen from Malaysia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Türkiye
seen from Italy
seen from India
seen from Bosnia & Herzegovina
seen from Canada
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
@sollun-tea
𝓑𝓛𝓐𝓒𝓚 𝓣𝓡𝓐𝓝𝓢 𝓜𝓔𝓝
Skin like rich soil and wood, hair like the clouds and thriving flora, heart of gold, willpower and strength. The earth knows your name, it sees your soul, it calls for your true self to be graced by the sun.
Because you deserve to take space in this world, along with our sisters and siblings.
I don’t have words, only art. I love you I love you I love you. Stay safe out there and take care of each other. There’s still joy in us.
Happy Pride, friends. Still here, still fighting, still so full of love.
Fanfic Idea I'm working on but like
Trans! Tim Drake looks at the healthcare system and goes "nah imma go with option B" and option B involves consulting a forgotten fae who'll gladly fulfill your wish but at the cost of your sanity and everything you understood about living tissue, specifically the human body.
Ok so I actuallyworked on the intro part of this. It's very much a wip and just me putting ideas down, but here it is nontheless.
Trigger warnings: referenced transphobia Chapter one intro
You could say Tim was a a little crazy for doing this.
Bat-shit insane even.
But could anyone blame him? Was he really at fault for making such an extreme decision on this?
Tim couldn't go through his parents. They would never entertain the thought of it talk less get him what he wanted, what he needed. And he couldn't face them. He couldn't imagine saying anything without the invasive image of his mother's eyes, appalled and stunned, and his father's brows creased and his hands clenched in contained anger. He wouldn't blame them, it wasn't their fault that their child turned out to be like this. They would tell him to take it back, to shut his mouth and never say such lies in their presence.
And would they be wrong? They lived their life believing their child was someone he turned out not to be. He himself didn't realize it until a few years prior. They wouldn't let him do anything, they'll force him to keep up the pretense. And he didn't know how much longer he could last in that shell of a person before he cracked and rotted. So he couldn't tell them, he couldn't do that to them, not after everything they had done for his sake.
Tim draws the last symbol for the summoing circle. His fingers coated in yellow chalk he managed to snag from the art room earlier in the day. He places it down with shaky hands and picks up the pocket knife from his side.
Alfred knew, he was always going to find out. All it took was one slip up, forgetting a form filled in to join a small open club at his school. A name written down at the top, bold and meticulously done over a darkened spot, as though the owner had struggled with the decision to leave the name on the paper. And with it was his last name, paired as one. Timothy Drake.
Alfred was a smart and thoughtful man. He didn't push, he didn't force the information out of him. He took his time and made sure he understood that he cared to know and listen. So he told Alfred, he told him everything, the words spewing out of him like a broken fountain the moment he realized he could do it because the sudden feeling of relief and liberation in that moment was beyond anything he'd ever felt. And Alfred respected him, he called him by his name, albeit in secret. It was a name he had the liberty of hearing from the mouth of someone he cared for.
But that, amongst others, was the most Alfred could do. He was able to help Tim see Dr. Leslie for a consultation and he got what he needed to pause the changes he couldn't handle, but the next step couldn't be done. Thanks to the legislations, policies, and shortages through the state, it was hard for major hospitals to get a hold of it, talk less of a small underground clinic. Controlled medications aren't easy to get, unless you want to run the risk of injecting laced drugs into your system.
This is Gotham, laced drugs might as well leave you cackling on the floor, frothing at the mouth like a rabid animal and contorted into unnatural positions. Leslie said it wasn't worth the risk, not for a kid.
Tim would beg to differ.
He closes his eyes, clearing his mind as he places the blade on his thumb and cuts through the meat. Through skin, then fat, then into muscle. He watches the blood bubble to the surface and spill down the finger. When the blood dripped onto the markings, it sizzled like hot oil.
He thought he could tell Bruce. He did tell him. He had worked by his side for seven months at this point, slowly getting used to each other's presence. Tim felt guilty for even mentioning it in the first place, because Bruce was still grieving; it hadn't been long since Jason's passing. He didn't want to be selfish enough to bring up his own issues when the wound of a death was still fresh and bleeding. But he couldn't take it, he couldn't wait. If anyone could help him, Bruce could. He understood why Alfred couldn't do more than consult Dr. Leslie, but it wasn't enough, not anymore.
So he told Bruce.
He hadn't expected him to look at him the way he did: confused, lost, saddened, and deeply exhausted.
Why was he sad? Why was this news depressing to him? Why did his shoulders drop and his eyes glaze over despite the furrow in his brows, as though he was only partially comprehending any of the words? He wasn't like that before ---was he? It took them standing in complete silence in the cave for more than a minute for Bruce to drop his head in his hand and mutter something he was barely able to catch, but he caught all the same.
'I don't know how much of this I can take'
And the white cold rushed over him. Because what did that mean? What was that supposed to mean? It couldn't mean anything else other than what he already concluded; he was a burden, another weight of detriment. And he was cruel and selfish enough to put this on him when he was in so much pain already.
Bruce must have realized what he said because he immediately tried to reconcile with him, to apologize. But there was no point. It wasn't his fault, he wasn't ready yet and he sprung this on him. It wasn't his fault, it wasn't his fault, it wasn't his fault. It wasn't Bruce's fault, he's stressed, he's exhausted and he didn't mean it he said he didn't mean it so why does it hurt? He asked himself while he ate up the apologies and reassured him that it was okay---no, no it's not it's not--- and walked away in a haze of his own like it was some kind of contagion. He got into the guest room he was assigned since starting as Robin, and cried until his voice went hoarse and a headache settled at the base of his skull.
The markings glow in the darkness, emitting a low hum. The symbols written on the hard wooden floor of the basement shift. He hastily grabbed the old grimoire and unlocks the latch, flipping over to the only page with a single line of writing.
He didn't tell Dick, not because he couldn't trust him or he couldn't possibly help, but because he will learn of his conversation with Bruce, and he will confront his mentor. Tim doesn't know if he would be able to stop the fight that will follow after. The screaming and yelling, hurtful words thrown into the air that couldn't be revoked. He can't stand the yelling, he never could stand the yelling, and there's only so much a pillow and wooden walls could do. And there will be more pain, more pain caused because of him. It would be his fault if this wedged an even deeper cut into their relationship because they had barely recovered from the disputes of the past. Tim didn't have it in him to take the risk, not again, not after Bruce.
He mutters the foreign words beneath his breath, the words of a language unknown to most of humanity.
'Djelvo delic en Alim'
The book rises, landing at the center of the summoning circle, and a storm of browning leaves rise from within its pages. The smell of mildew and burnt wood floods the air, and the gust of air circling the attic strengthens.
What if they found out about this? What would they do? That was an outcome he didn't even want to consider. They wil interrogate him, question his sanity, ask why he would make such a decision and why he didn't just voice what he wanted. Alfred would be disappointed, Bruce would shake him and ask why? why he would risk his life for this. Dick would blame himself if anything happen, even if he didn't tell him anything, he will blame himself for not being someone reliable enough.
Or maybe they'll find a rotten corpse in the attic of the Drake manor, long since decayed to scant connective tissue and maggo---no, no, let's end that there.
Tim shakes his head, he will try to avoid that outcome.
The wind dies down.
And right at the center of the now blackened summoning circle is a creature stood in all its beauty, gazing at him through alluring, sharp, amber eyes.
He doesn't expect it to work. He was prepared for it to fail, his breath held and his shoulders tense for action in the likelihood of it backfiring.
He was relieved it didn't come to that.
The entity looks closer to a human yet not at the same time; bird-shaped wings made of scales and chitin rather than feathers flap behind it like a protective cape. But it seemed to be attached to its head rather than its back like the usual portrayals of faes. They were orange, with ends that faded to black. It reminded him of a monarch butterfly.
It's skin was as pale as snow and a few parts of its androgynous body was adorned with feathers and leaves in elaborate symmetrical patterns of autumn red, orange and yellows. Its eyes wide and sharp like a feline. Dark silky hair flowed behind it as though it moved on its own, seemingly changing color wherever the moonlight grazed its locks.
It stares; curious, expecting, but quiet.
Then it speaks in a soft silky voice meshed with one of an old noble soul.
"You have freed me, human. Awoken me from a deep slumber I could not escape", It eyes him, pupils formed into sharp crosses, " I assume it is not without purpose."
Its voice rumbles softly towards the end.
Tim, still caught off guard from the success of the summoning attempt and slight intimidation from the entity before him, stands to his feet.
"Y-Yes," he stutters,"Yes it isn't."
It hums, chin raised. It seems impressed that a child---he just turned fourteen, he's definitely not a kidaymore--- had managed to summon it. Tim feels the same. It circles him, never taking its eyes off him as though he was prey to be hunted. His eyes follows it, cautious and aware.
"I am certain you have expectations on how this encounter goes; perhaps you make the wish you demand and you be on your merry way."
The soft feminine face of the fae briefly morphs into something dark and primitive. A darkness spreads from the bridge of its nose and the sclera of the eyes were a deep crimson red with a smile too wide for comfort.
It tilts its head to the side, almost innocently, speaking in a soft yet threatening voice.
"Why should I not kill you right here, right, now hmm? I can leave your corpse and bring the true chaos of the unknown to this world," voice low and threatening.
Tim frowns.
"You can't."
It hesitates. A deep rumble errupts from its throat, hair puffed like the feathers of a threatened owl.
"You know you wouldn't get another opportunity like this, not in a long time," he doubles down.
They both stand in threatening silence, embers staring into icy blues, before it laughed and as it walked off into the summoning circle.
"Ugh, I see your kind has not changed. I jest yet you take my words to heart," It sits on thin air, legs crossed ad hands by its sides as its long feather-like tail curls from side to side.
It wasn't entirely a joke, he could sense that much. It was showing him the truth of their dynamic, letting him know that his false sense of control could be taken right under his nose at any point. And it's gloating, taking pleasure in his misery---well, isn't that fucking reassuring.
"Very well then, what is it that you want from me?"
"A wish."
Tim's heart stutters because this was it, the moment he'd spent the past two months working towards. This was what he wanted so desperately. He takes a breath and holds his ground despite the prickling feeling at the back of his head, the tension in his throat, and his mildly trembling hand. The words escape the cage in his heart.
"I... ," he started, "I want to be a boy."
The fae looked at him, and its head tilts ever so slightly to the side. It does that a lot he notices, it's always searching.
In a matter of seconds, it morphed into a cloud of leaves and dark soil, only to reappear inches from his face once more, this time non-threatening and inquisitive. Tim holds and restrains the urge to fight. The most that escapes is a flinch. With knees bent and back arched to meet his height, a wide grin crawls on its thin lips like a cheshire cat, teeth sharp enough to pierce skin and bones.
"Ah, I see you child. I see your spirit, it is wild and desperate," she ran her fingers through his hair, and he shivers under the touch of sharp talons on his scalp, "But it is distressed. The flesh contains you wrong."
Tim nodded, he didn't entirely understand what it meant, but it spoke true to him, "Can you change it? Please?"
Its wings flapped slowly, and its feather-like tail danced erratically behind it, then it slowed.
"Such a change will surely come with a price. What will I receive in return?"
"Your freedom."
The moment the words left his mouth, the creature's sharp grin turned into a soft smile, bright eyes still and the black of its eyes turned from a cross to wide dark diamonds
"You will free me? A fae you have never met, known or heard of? Do you fully understand the implications of your actions human?"
Tim knew this, he knew this was a massive risk to take. To use the power of a fae always came with a price, what it was exactly was the unpredictable part. Creating a soul pact however was a bigger conundrum. If he did this, reversing it would be damn near impossible, and it'll take more than just a simple spell to break it. But if he left it, then... then he doesn't know what he would do.
Good thing he came prepared.
"Yes," he starts, " I'm well aware. I'll let you go, when and only when you fulfill my wish. You turn this body into what I want, you get to go free."
This is stupid, this is so stupid.
But he needs this.
It thinks, ponders and consideres his words.
"Very well. I will agree to your terms."
It offers its hands, long dark hair somehow curls around him as though to shield him---Or perhaps to strike him down, who will ever know. It is barely a whisp away from his skin.
In the middle of its palm is a dull green cocoon. Tim feels compelled to take it, so he does, cradling the fragile thing in his hands.
It lifts its fingers to its lips, under sharp vampiric canines and bites down hard. Its blood, a shimmering gold that slowly turns black the more exposed it got, drips onto the cocoon. It turns a deep black as though a shadow rests in his palms.
"Yours next," it commands.
Tim frowns, but listens anyway, moving the cocoon to his left palm---the enigma of a thing actually creeps into his hand like a shadow. He bites into the already coagulating wound on the cut he'd made on his thumb and a drop of red, deep and very human, falls on the cocoon. It changes again, this time, into a beautiful ruby red with black ascents, obeying the laws of reality again.
Tim misses the flash of recognition in its eyes.
"When the pain in your heart, and the aching foreigness of your bones overwhelm you", it begins in a sickly sweet voice that made his bones rattle, "Remember your heart in the shell. And remember this pact that binds us as one. Swallow this by midnight and your wish will become a reality. You will be reborn in your true flesh. A gift to a fellow lonesome soul."
After a firm nod, the fae's eyes peer at him, giggling and growling simultaeously as it sits up to its full intimidating height of damn near seven feet, hair tickles his face.
"I must take my leave now, may this spell give you the outcome you desire. I shall see you when the time is right", it walks away, back into the summoning circle, now fading into the wood as the minutes pass.
"But before I take my leave," it turns its head to him, "What are you called child, if I may ask so kindly?"
Tim frowns at it. It was a silly attempt at an old cheap trick, it probably knows this. He knows what the creature is trying to do, "It's Kimberly."
The creature only laughs, long, ear-piercing and soft, like a bloodied knife through butter.
"You are a smart child, but I will respectfully decline that; I do not fancy names of the dead. I will see you again, djute."
And then it was gone leaving him in the silence of his own mind and home.
I'm a feminine/androgynous transmasculine enby. And I want to be the definition of a gender confusion. A guy thing gender wise, a gendervoid personality wise, a femmebutch gal presentation wise, and genderfucker in a spiritual sense.
Yeah, I'm a hairy person with a tdick. Yeah, I do what I want regardless of what gender you slap on it. Yeah, I like looking cute and wearing cute jewelry and a cropped shirt and boyshorts and thigh highs, but I also like wearing a leather collar and high neck tanks and platform boots with cargo pants. Yeah, you're not gonna understand what you're looking at because your brain's gonna flip through all the labels you wanna glue to me and fail with every attempt.
The limitations of flesh and society restrain me, and it disgusts me.
that wage gap study people keep using to argue that trans men are so ridiculously privileged on the same level of cis men is a little. idk. odd. like first of all that is the us. things will be different in other places, especially in the global south. second of all, the same study shows that the wage gap between black lgbtq women and latine lgbtq women is greater than the gap between trans men and women.
does this mean that black women are ridiculously privileged over latine women and need to be constantly reminded of how disgusting that is and how the american system clearly benefits them? no, because that isn't true. clearly. (i'm white and non-american so please correct me if i've said something wrong about race here).
idk. felt like something to point out because people seem to be taking that study and running with it to say how respected trans guys are by the patriarchy and how much privilege we have when, need i remind you, both groups focused on make 30-40 cents less than the average worker. also what other people have said about medians and the massive overlapping confidence intervals here -
where the range for trans men falls completely within the range for trans women should be kept in mind as well. shrugs.
Always, always, always remember that trans men being put into labor camps and raped by ICE, being forced into arranged marriages, being denied abortion rights, being subject to genital mutilation and having a 54% suicide attempt rate were all deemed by this stupid website's userbase as less important and less worthy of discussion than kink discourse, gimmick blog drama, internet fanfiction and a 10 cent wage gap that only applies to full-time wages in the USA & doesn't even account for income from part-time employees, self-employment, or 2nd jobs. This was enough, apparently, to justify making """jokes""" about transmasc genocide, as if that was just some silly wacky make-believe scenario that could actually happen IRL (oh, but it'd be ackshually good if it did btw!).
And anyone who calls any of this out gets called a whiny bitch, a TERF, a misogynist and worse (as! OP! Has been!).
Never forget that. Never, ever forget that.
I have no problem with people who detransition, you do you, it's when they detransition and spout nonsense about "um actually it's the transgender people's fault, they're evil, I was normal until they convinced me that I should ruin my body" where I'm just like "Stfu please just bc it wasn't for you doesn't mean it's bad as a whole"
and out of the darkness - you you you you you
*Everything getting so freaking loud and bright and intense and fucking frustrating and the lights are too much and my skin is too much and my brain is so fucking annoying that I rip open my skull and bury my hands between the hemispheres of my brain with my vicious bloody claws and try to scoop out my thalamus because who the fuck needs it I want it out now I WANT IT OUT RIGHT FUCKING NOW*
Random stranger on the bus: "A-Are you okay...?"
Me: "Hmm? Oh yeah totally just a lil overwhelmed is all"
Every single odd number has an “e” in it.
LISTEN-
Not all of them. 30 and 50 aren’t spelled with the letter e in it …
father god
…if you can split a number in half evenly, it’s even. 30 and 50 are odd.
-_-’
(15+15=30
25+25=30)
25+25 = 30? You sure about that??
Lord have mercy….
Bye
3 days into 2018 smh
LMAOOOOOOO
One
Three
Five
Nine
And since everything else after that is a variant of these numbers, then all odds have the letter ‘E’.
🗣YOU FORGOT SEVEN!!
It keeps getting worse.
LMAOOO WHAT IS GOING ON
My head hurts…
This is why that Tumblr University shit was the dumbest idea ever just look at this
who failed yall?
IM SCREAMING
You whole ass forgot about eight - a number with an e and is pretty fucking even
why would 8 be brought up if it’s EVEN in a post about ODDS??????? the post said “every single ODD number has an ‘e’ in it” not “every single number with an ‘e’ is odd” what the fuck
3 days until 2019 and we’re still here
happy New year’s eve
I’m going to bring this flaming dumpster into 2019 so future generations can see what a mistake Tumblr was
Er, guys two is odd and doesn’t have an e. Just saying…
did you deadass just try to tell me two is odd? i’m fucking crying throw the whole website away
Reblogging for the last one😂
The one thing I notice is that no matter how much you want to throw this site away, you just can’t.
TWO IS ODD?!?! PFFFTT I’M SCREAMING
Wait what about zero that’s an odd number ,no?
ok but hear me out fifty and thirty make up for the fact they have no e by the way they are pronounces third-E fifth-E
bro why do 30 and 50 matter THEY’RE FUCKING EVEN
what the actual fuck is happening
1 is an even number
I’m gonna smack you
-30 and -50 have an e in them
Wait why are we so quick to throw away the Zero idea
Zero isn’t a number
It can’t be divided by two though, can it
It can??? 0/2=0??
OD NUMBERS
onE
thrEE
fivE
sEvEn
ninE
OD numbers huh?
Anything that ends with a 0,2,4,6,8 is even and the rest is odd (1,3,7,9) stop freaking out y’all
YOU FORGOT 5
DUDE WHAT ABOUT FOUR
What about it?????
THAT DOESN’T HAVE E IN IT
THAT’S BECAUSE IT’S EVEN?????
A R E Y O U G U Y S O K A Y
21 days away from 2020, folks.
I've had a pretty interesting experience when it comes to names as an immigrant living in a western country.
Before I moved, I was advised to use my traditional name rather than my english one to stand out and be unique. I initially wanted to go with my english name since I thought it would be easier for others to say, though I didn't have that strong of a connection to the name so it wasn't really something I was excited about.
I'm glad I went with my traditional name. I've found it interesting and fascinating hearing people try to pronounce it, and I can so easily tell the difference between people who do care to pronounce my name correctly and memorize it and those who don't. I've encountered those who have absolutely butchered it and don't care to learn, or they ask for an easier name instead. Thankfully, that's a rare one because I don't like telling people my middle name, and my other traditional name is even harder to pronounce.
The most bizarre I've experienced though are people who mispronounced my name, then just straight up told me they don't want to pronounce it the right way but they want and will refer to me by their mispronounced version of my name instead which is... interesting, to say the least. This has only happened a handful of times, and most were close friends, so it didn't bother me and still doesn't. I just found it a lil odd.
FTM Book Recs
One of the funny, and by funny I mean infuriating, things about the trans discourse on this website is how everyone screams themselves hoarse "read Whipping Girl" as if its the only book written on the experiences of trans women or transfeminism. But also, people scream at you to read Whipping Girl to.....understand trans men? Julia Serrano is a trans woman who admitted that her book doesn't cover the scope of the trans masculine experience. So here, here's some nonfiction books written by actual trans men. Enjoy.
• Hung Jury: Testimonies of Genital Surgery by Transsexual men, edited by Trystan Cotten • From the Inside Out: Radical Gender Transformation, FTM and Beyond, edited by Morty Diamond • We Both Laughed in Pleasure: The Selected Diaries of Lou Sullivan • No Poster Boy: Trans Fag Essays by Elliot DeLine • Side Effects: on Being Trans and Feeling Bad by Hil Malatino • A Trans Man Walks Into A Gay Bar by Harry Nicholas • Black on Both Sides: A Racial History of Trans Identity by C. Riley Snorton • Men in Place: Trans Masculinity, Race, and Sexuality in America by Miriam J. Abelson • Emergence: A Transsexual Autobiography by Mario Martino • Body Alchemy: Transsexual Portraits by Loren Cameron • The Phallus Palace: Female to Male Transsexuals by Dean Kotula • FTM: Female-to-Male Transsexuals in Society by Jamison Green • Transmen and FTMs: Identities, Bodies, Genders, and Sexualities by Jason Cromwell • Self-Made Men: Identity and Embodiment among Transsexual Men by Henry Rubin • Manning Up: Transsexual men on Finding Brotherhood, Family and Themselves, edited by Zander Kieg • Just Add Hormones: An Insiders Guide to the Transsexual Experience by Matt Kailey • Self-Organizing Men: Conscious Masculinity in Time and Space, edited by Eli Clare • Man Alive: A True Story of Violence, Forgiveness and Becoming a Man by Thomas Page Mcbee • Amateur: A True Story About What Makes A Man by Thomas Page Mcbee • Becoming a Visible Man by Jamison Green • Both Sides Now: One Man's Journey Through Womanhood by Dhillon Khosla • What Becomes You by Aaron Raz Link
*Female Masculinity by Jack Halberstam
And, because I believe in my heart that all trans people have more in common than differences and there's really no such thing as separating our community, I am including here transgender book recs written by non-binary, genderqueer, trans feminine and trans woman authors. Enjoy these too.
• Gender Outlaws: on Men, Women and the Rest of Us by Kate Bornstein • Genderqueer by Maia Kobabe • Stone Butch Blues by Leslie Feinberg *(this book is fiction but intensely important to the butch and trans masculine lesbian community) • Tranagender Warriors: Making History from Joan of Arc to Dennis Rodman by Leslie Feinberg • Before We Were Trans: A New History of Gender by Kit Heyam • Black Trans Feminism by Marquis Bey • A Short History of Trans Misogyny by Jules Gill-Peterson • Captive Genders: Trans Embodiment and the Prison Industrial Complex by Eric A. Stanley • Surviving Transphobia by Laura A. Jacobs • Transgender History by Susan Stryker • The Transgender Issue: An Argument For Justice by Shon Faye
A lot of the books on this list are on the older side for nonfiction, my interest leans more towards the 90s and 00s and that shows. I encourage anyone with any other book recommendations to add on.
*Indicates added by an ask.
has this been done yet?
if not then someone please draw them like this plsplsplsplspl
I’ve found this comment from the author of Whipping Girl (yes, that book) to be very… relevant!
There’s also this part near the end of her essay which stood out to me concerning transandrophobia. Not only did she already say that she failed to acknowledge transmascs/men in her book (I forgot where I saw that, if anyone has a link I’d love to add it in) but she seems to actively acknowledge the mistreatment transmascs/men face!
The essay is linked at the end
This feels… I don’t know if ironic is the right word but it’s definitely odd that many transandrophobes cite the book Whipping Girl yet the creator is against the mistreatment of transmascs/men. Huh, some food for thought.
Content Warning: while I will not be describing any actual instances of sexual violence, this issue (and false accusations thereof) will be…
Carnivorous plants doin this is so funny to me
They don't wanna eat their pollinators :(
portraits of butches of color pt 2. via butchisnotadirtyword
They make me sick btw
