Some mornings I wake up in a dead panic, fully clothed & eyeliner still winging my eyes, and have no idea where I am or how I got there.

And my heart stops as I try to call together the fragmented shards of memory of the night before to make sure I hadn’t been especially reckless or foolhardy.

Then the sleep dissipates a bit, I snap into consciousness and I breathe a sigh of relief. Nope, nothing too risque at all. Just a fun and wholesome night out at a trans lady metal show.


if your boyfriend doesn’t worship your butt then he’s a lame and i’m very sorry you have to deal with that

(via captain-elliott)