Praise Our Lady Trudy, For As Long As Desire Has Existed So Does Her Will

tonight's curse is: acid reflux

-5hp

-5hp

-10hp (critical hit)

-5hp

People do not see masculinity as being as fluid and complex and nuanced as femininity and it’s annoying as hell. Because of patriarchy’s stranglehold on masculinity and radfem theory’s stranglehold on queer spaces, people really think with their whole heart that only femininity is subversive or experimental, or frankly, queer, and that masculinity is only a power grab and nothing more. Embarrassing!

Still one of my favorite things I've created

“Play the man, Master Ridley…”

“It Was A Pleasure to Burn” by Sunny (me!)

A defiled and half-burned corpse, featuring poems made from the scraps of words on both the front and back. I could feel the book die as i burned it and it was a truly devastating but necessary experience for the piece. I actually made this piece in 2023, and it scares me how it’s becoming more and more relevant. Protect your books at all costs. Defend them with everything you’ve got. You won’t know just how valuable they are until you have been stripped of them.

Water color, colored pencil and flame on Ray Bradbury’s “Farenheit 451” 60th anniversary edition

We should do this again sometime.

The Outbursts of Everett True was a comic strip that ran in papers from 1905 to 1927, wherein the aforementioned Everett True regularly beat the everliving shit out of rude people as a warning to anyone else who might consider being rude. Men have not only been taking up too much room on public transport for about as long as public transport has existed, but the people around them have been irritated about it for at least a hundred years. The next time someone tries to claim that manspreading is a false phenomenon, please direct them to this strip so that Everett True can correct their misconceptions with an umbrella upside the head.

have you ever been told you look like a celebrity?

yes (who? 👀)

no

EROS, ARROWS Shinji Moon 

slaughterhouse mouth, your throat-cutters tongue; as the sky let down its snow-filled skirts our feathers shifted south, pale coats hung,  the radiator shifting,              shuck                                                      suck                                                               shuck. 

oh moan your hands off; take my mouth off;  your teeth are geese; my teeth are take-offs;  with your inside voice, my inside hands, I ask:          baby, let me rearrange                   your bones off. 

What level of rotted is it when you think you're the most basic man alive for loving the chemical burn scene forgetting that normal people would NOT find that sexual in the slightest nevermind romantic