Just taking the meatsuit for a spin.

Hey y’all it’s time for me to get away from my porno name + make accounts that are just for me. <3

If we’re mutuals please message me for my new contact info! Ily, ty for all the follows and all the good, bad, weird times.

hey if you’re replying to a popular post of mine, i’m probably not gonna see it. this is tumblr. what happens in the notes of my posts is none of my business.

Perhaps getting a bit intense for the shoelace blogosphere here, but I found my old suicide note today and…. I simply don’t relate to it. I just don’t feel that way anymore. We made it the fuck out of there babes!!!

“don’t bite the hand that feeds you—“ stop feeding the mouth that bites you.

gotta rewrite this love song bc the person I wrote it about came out + I can’t have a chorus structured around a deadname

not to be gay but they posted about wanting a specific politician to die and i had to talk myself out of bringing them a severed head

got invited to a queer tea house full moon ritual, I’m doing something so right

you are a tiny itty-bitty infinitesimal little human being. you should care about tiny itty-bitty infinitesimal little human things.

Thinking about when I worked at a shitty restaurant + one night it was just me + 3 other women on closing shift, so some guy came in the back and waved a knife around, presumably for money but I’m not actually certain, bc he was met with the bartender holding a much bigger knife, a tiny teenager wielding a cast iron pan, an elderly woman holding up a crockpot of clearly boiling water, and me, turning on the meat slicer with eye contact for maximum effect. He left, but the moral of the story is not girl power or whatever, it’s just. Why the fuck would you threaten a room full of underpaid and sleep-deprived blue-collar workers surrounded by lethal weapons.

There’s something uniquely horrible about knowing someone loves you but doesn’t like your. You’d jump in front of traffic to save me. Why can’t you hold my hand to cross the street?

Welcome to my home. If you tolerate the next forty minutes of unrelated show-and-tell, I will reward you with homemade baked goods and earth shattering head.

Sometimes girls like girls and sometimes girls that like girls are boys and sometimes girls that are boys are still girls that actually aren’t quite a boy or a girl, but instead a secret third thing that is also both a boy and a girl.

You do not have to understand this! You just need to know I have a knife.

Sorry for falling a little in love with you every time you smile. It will happen again.

I was really insecure about having a big nose for a lil bit but then I started referring to it as my “menacing beak” and that? Fixed it I guess. Haven’t thought about it in a while. Fuck it. Reject modern beauty standards, become a monstergirl, profit. (Apparently.) Fuckin’. Do with that what you will.