#dc#dc comics#batman#bruce wayne#dick grayson#dc fanart#batfamily#batfam#tim drake
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from Tunisia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Martinique
seen from India
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Sappho herself smiled down upon the Montreal Victoire!! WE’RE GOING TO THE FINALS BABY!!!
RAAAAHH
“Sweet mother, I cannot weave
–slender Aphrodite has overcome me
with longing for a girl.”
-Sappho, [102]
9 trans people have been murdered in the US since the start of April. My heart bleeds for them. Look out for the trans people in your life yall
Personally, Sappho isn’t just a great Ancient Greek lyricist and poet. She isn’t just the OG lesbian. To me she is goddess. Sappho is who I pray to in my times of need. She gives me the courage and guidance. She is my higher power that I submit myself to with complete and utter adoration… because how could you not???
Happy Pride month to all my favorite lesbian and sapphics and trans femmes and trans mascs.
I am drunk and I want to fall asleep in bed with her. I want to lay on her shoulder and fall asleep her petting my hair.
Lips
Being drunk is like there’s an uncontrollable sway to everything.
Moving side to side, grass in the wind.
You can’t keep your head still, rolls one way, then another.
A ball circling the drain, a pendulum swinging.
Everything is hilarious, you can’t stop laughing.
Social anxieties and inhibitions released.
The grip on your heart, the hollowness in your stomach aren’t there.
Suddenly, you can strike up conversations and say and do things sober ‘you’ would never do.
You aren't too scared to say anything to her. You’re sitting next to her. She is drunk too.
You’re both swaying in the wind, your arm brushes hers.
The party is too loud.
She can’t hear you.
You shout into her ear.
She laughs as you lean back.
Her eyes dart across your face.
You peel your sticky, perspiring hands off the old linoleum.
Adjusting yourself as you lean back beside her.
You take another sip of your drink.
The vodka cranberry washes down your throat.
Your shoulders are touching, your hand on hers.
You look at her, watching her eyes, then her lips move, then her eyes again.
She’s looking back at you, the hair on your arms rises and spreads across your skin.
Your head is pulling you towards the crook of her neck.
Her collarbone looks so soft. But,
your heart is shouting at you.
Shouting out of your chest.
‘Kiss her.’ All you can do is stare at her lips.
‘Kiss her.’
The cherry red has a sheen like water.
You’re thirsty.
Seems she is too.
You take another sip of your drink.
Now she is sipping from you.
“Where is my husband!” By RAYE but like “Where is my Butch!”
