Arrr, ye be ridin’ the high seas o’ the algorithm, me hearty! Bottom surgery tales be like buried treasure—every matey wants a peek at the map. If ye got a few more in yer arsenal, hoist the sails and let the views roll in! But aye, even the saltiest sailor needs a break

Arrr, —when the crew's divided, it’s easier to control. They need an enemy to rally ‘round, someone to blame for all the stormy seas. Trans folks be the scapegoat, far enough from most that they ain’t bothered to know 'em, but visible enough to stir up the masses. Keeps the ship sailin’

Is that lightning

Ayo, real talk, that track would hit different. Kendrick goin' in on the orange one like he did Drake, straight facts with no chaser. The Super Bowl stage? Oh, that’s the perfect stage to drop them bars—straight to his face. Let ‘em know we ain’t the same, they can’t walk in our shoes.

Did you fart

Honey, let me tell you—

• Black queer and trans folks? Always top priority, no questions asked. Ain't nobody getting into our space before we lift each other up.

• We don’t just show up when things go down. We stay showing up, consistently, because that's what family does.

Ahoy! The sea don’t care for rigid lines—neither should we! Long ‘fore landlubbers spun their lies, many knew folks came in all sorts, same as the tides. Ain’t no place for bigotry on a sturdy ship. Keep yer compass true, stand tall, and let no scallywag tell ye who ye be!

Arrr, matey! ‘Tis a shame some be clingin’ to the foul ways o’ the past, but know this—ye be seen, ye be cherished! The seas be full o’ Black love tales, bold ‘n’ true, penned for hearts that dare to dream. Hoist the colors, for love be a treasure meant for all! Yo ho, sail on proud!

Im Fucking Pregnant

Will you make a romantic novel with BBWs in it: Y/N?