#. . . non anons i hrt

[arkhamslvts]

jason has a big dick. we all know. what about him training you to take him all the way in your throat and you just can’t seem to do it so he takes control and throat fucks you

rahshshsjw ur genius angel.

listen. he tries to be gentle with you, at first he just eases in halfway, talking you through it nice and slow “it’s alright baby, breathe through your nose.. don’t gag too much angel, good girl” but he gets impatient, and quickly. he’s only a little more than half way in, and you’ve pulled back twice already gasping for air, tears in your eyes. it seems like the gentle route doesn’t work much with you. he grits his teeth and mutters "you can take it angel.. you dont really have a choice". you know to tap his thigh if its all too much, but the idea of getting used has you almost dizzy.

its filthy, the way he forces himself in and out of your throat, without a care in the world. his hand is in your hair, youll probably scold him for it later but you feel too good for either of you to notice it. "fuck… good fucking girl, good fucking slut. gonna make me.. gonna make me fuckin' cum" and you dont have much time to prepare before its shooting down your throat. you dont gag though, and he makes sure he rewards you for being such a good girl.

[canon-gabriel-quotes]

I'm not on t yet and it's already so bad. how to prepare

Prepare? Nuh uh. It just happens.

The rabid animal phase does go away, sort of.

The level stays mostly the same but you learn to ignore it.

If you can do it, exercising helps.

But when it hits randomly at the worst moment I’m sorry there is nothing to be done LMAO

[blank0s]

Hey anon, there's "hope for you" to look good because beauty doesn't lock itself behind a magic age limit for estrogen.

Look at the women that transitioned much older than you, and when you internalize how beauty doesn't care about your age of transition, thank them and retract your words.

Wghat age did you start estrogen I need to know if there's hope for me to ever look as good as you

i started at 18 im very sorry

[genderqueerdykes]

(this is from an ask that wished to remain anonymous- we have anons turned off for the moment. we will turn them back on once we're in less of a stressful situation.)

that's a perfectly fine question to ask! bottom growth is an effect of testosterone HRT that causes the clitoris to grow in size. some people have very little growth, others can become very large. it doesn't cause someone to grow a fully fledged penis, but, whenever a clitoris has grown sufficiently, it does mimic the appearance of a penis, even with the clitoral hood becoming much like foreskin. the head of tdicks (which is what many people choose to call clitorises affected by bottom growth) even grows to look strikingly similar to penises! there are surgeries you can get like metoidioplasties and simple releases that can help a person with a tdick become more visibly erect when aroused, as well, which is very cool. you can also have surgery done to have your urethra re-routed through your tdick, which is too risky for me as someone who already deals with incontinence issues, but i think it's an amazing option!

some people never really see a lot of growth on testosterone, however, and that's important to be noted. not everyone gets a ton of growth, this can be dependent on how well a person tolerates the medication, their dose, whether or not the person is intersex or intolerant to testosterone, and their biology in general.

are you interested in phalloplasty? if so I have some links on my resources page on my blog that may help you:

and here are some resources containing information about getting vaginal-preserving phalloplasties:

if you have any more questions feel free to ask! I appreciate you stopping by!

[catboybiologist]

Imma make an observation that literally is just an observation for its own sake, but it's gonna def be borderline toxic and self deprecating. I genuinely only want the observation part about it, and I'm really not being hard on myself or the community here, but if that distinguishment is gonna be hard for you just be warned.

Cool? Cool. Unfocused ramble under the cut.

Now that I've face revealed, I'm kinda curious observing from the sidelines the reactions that people aren't saying. Obvs I'm not a popular enough person to be like "WOAGH SISJDJDJ OMG ITS A FACE REVEAL" but I'm more talking about the general psychology of passing itself now that I show my full face vs when I hid it.

With that tiny scrap of markup covering my nose, chin, and mouth, I had people ENDLESSLY telling me that there's NO WAY I don't pass. OBVIOUSLY whatever I was hiding was the absolute PINNACLE of femininity. My ask box was literally fucking filled with those comments to the point it was obnoxious- "why do you hide your face you're so pretty" or something like it, DMed and anoned to me over. And over. And over again.

I've really only shown my face in "perfect angle" pictures now, and even then it's obvious that I don't pass. Likely, my face looks nothing like what most people imagined. I got this from a lot of people I showed my face to in discord as well- you'd be hard pressed to say that I fully pass now. Best you could do is probably "yeah you look femme but def clocky to the right eye", and I get a lot of "pretty but clocky" type "compliments" from people.

Don't get me wrong, this isn't a "woe is me I'll never pass I'm horrific" post. Now this is Tumblr, and the core group of trans people that I love interacting with largely don't care, or even find the clockiness hot. I'm also gaining confidence in the twinkhon vibes myself, while also knowing that I still have a LONG way to go on HRT, and whatever my face looks like now, it'll be way different in the years and months to come. In the end, passing or not, I don't care. And obviously, that's not a binary thing, blah blah, insert all the passing discourse here. That's not what this post is about.

What it IS about is how far the perception of my face drifted from people's actual assessment of it when I face revealed. When I had the clockiest features of my face hidden, there was an intrinsic assumption that they were more femme than they actually were.

I've also gotten slightly less interaction on my selfies in general (aside from the initial face reveal) but that could just be a byproduct of my reduced activity on Tumblr overall from road tripping. I'll have to see what it's like in the future, but I highly suspect that a large number of lower interaction people now view me as less attractive. I'm not saying they're avoiding me in disgust, I'm saying that when their was a gap in their perception, their brains autofilled a more attractive image than actually existed. This doesn't apply to my core group of moots that are high interaction and comment n stuff (love y'all) but the large scores of people who leave simple tags or reblog and like in passing- I think I just got less attractive in people's minds.

What does all of this say? Honestly it's hard to say. This is more observation than anything else. It might be linked to beauty standards, or just a bias of "unga bunga skinny white woman with conventionally attractive body must have conventionally attractive face" which turned out not to be true, or whatever.

Again, just a weird ramble. Bug summary is that people, on average, assumed I passed before I showed my full face, and now, far less do.

Oh yeah, and inb4 "and omg you actually pass though"- this post isn't for you. There's lots of people who see me and think that I don't, including in Tumblr. Passing varies on a person to person basis, and what I'm saying here is that face revealing flicked a switch in many, but not all, people's brains from passing to non-passing.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hi sex batman! I read the faq and I don’t thiiink you’ve gone into this in depth (haaaahahaha) before. Could you talk about options for non-penetrative sex? I myself am a person with a vulva and had a no-nipples mastectomy, all types of partner accepted.

In my case specifically, I don’t always like my genitals touched during sex, so I want to see what my options are, especially for other “receiving” type acts. Like. Massage? I loooooove hickies so that’s usually what I lean on lol. I also like being restrained in a submissive way but I don’t know what to ask my partner to do after tying me up, if I don’t want to be fucked or hit. I’m beyond happy to just give head all day but both I and my partners sometimes want the attention to be on me for a bit.

Do… other people have some sort of innate sense of what they want to do, and they just wing it? I feel like I’m doing the opening and closing the fridge bc you’re not drawn to anything in it but you’re hungry… but like for sex acts.

I’m sort of confused and scared that I don’t know what I want, and I don’t have a partner at the moment so I dont get much chance for uh. Group study. But I’m on testosterone HRT and listening to a court of silver flames (spicy fairy book) on audiobook so I am. Frequently Horny. Exhausted yeehaw. Whatever you can make of this I’m supremely grateful.

🐝

hi anon,

I have great news: if I were to list out every single sex act that isn't penetration this post would turn into a novel and we would be here for hours. sex can be anything you want it to be, involving any body parts you want and excluding anything that doesn't float your boat. anything that sounds fun to you, go for it.

there's no need to be scared about not knowing exactly what you like; very few people a born knowing they want to be hog-tied by a rodeo clown in a latex suit. that's why it's so important to play and explore, both alone and with partners, to find out what excites you and what you might want to try more of! not everything needs to be a slam dunk; it's fine just to try things on and see what sticks for you. the only way to learn is to give it a try.

[revscarecrow]

hey rev i really appreciate you trying to educate people. i’m trans and i’m one of the edge cases where i started hormone therapy at 14 which is considered really early. to that other anon, this happened because i was suffering immensely from gender dysphoria and all of the non-medical interventions me and my family tried hadn’t helped. i was incredibly depressed and anxious and was skipping school and failing classes. but i went through a lot of evaluations before starting HRT and my doctor explained all of the effects in detail to me and my parents, and that’s standard practice for care providers, since it’s based on informed consent. some trans people can wait until they’re 18 to transition but some, like me, can’t. limiting transitioning to 18 means denying suffering kids what may be their only path to substantial relief. anyways, i appreciate you sticking up for us rev!

<3 thank you for the extra info and I'm glad you got the help you deserve.

[floatingstirnerhead]

how do you get HRT or insulin when civilization, and it's industry, is abolished?

Anon I rewrote this post like three times because it's so important to me that people understand this. I want so much for everyone and am always so frustrated by the constant bad jacketing of nihilists so here it goes.

The first and most important point is that anticiv rejects all vanguardism. There will be no seizure of state power that mandates all power plants be turned off. It is a part of the real communist movement and involves the subaltern population rejecting alienation and finding their power, not destroying things they actively need.

Classical communism imagines that we will simply collectivize our current industrial society and distribute the spoils evenly. In the era of climate change, this is a highly insufficient analysis. If we don't stop clear cutting and strip mining, we'll go extinct, and bring most of the biosphere with us. At the very least, this means serious degrowth, regardless of whether the industry is collectivist or not.

I don't care about the poor little loggers who lost their jobs from tree spiking.

It is the productivist logic that must be challenged if we are to survive the 21st century. That every human being and every scrap of land be put to work. Human, plant, and animal diversity is being crushed by it, and we need that to live. We need to live in a way that's not driven by a "work or starve" mentality, in biodiverse places, where we are not defined by our labour.

This is not possible within an ideology that places the production of things as the cornerstone of everything. It does NOT mean never making things ever again, or even abandoning modern techniques such as insulin production, but it does mean applying serious critique to them:

Does this form of production require the destruction of vital ecosystems, even indirectly such as through power generation, pollution, traffic infrastructure, or use of goods that have such impacts?

Does this form of production require forcing people to do it under threat of death or starvation?

Does this form of production require large swaths of land to be barren, like parking lots or monoculture corn?

Does this form of production require people to subscribe to a specific ideology or way of being to participate in it?

The question of insulin comes up again and again but it is framed wrong. There will be no primmie Vanguard that topples the provisional government and shoots everyone with an insulin pump. It is a tool for the here and now for the powerless, about reclaiming our power outside of totalizing institutions that look at our beautiful earth and just see spoils to be harvested. It's a critique, not a program.

Anticiv praxis could involve black market medical production (including insulin, or HRT which already exists) to combat the increasing failure of the industrial model. In the same way that regenerative agriculture reimagines human relationships with the non-human or FNB reimagines food consumption, the same could be done for pharmacy; the earth is full of medicine that can be produced without destruction. This doesn't require abandoning modern techniques, it requires abandoning the constant liquidation of the non-human to run them.

The real movement is already emerging, in the shared bureaucracy hacks and desperate mutual aid posts, and the truth is right in front of us:

We don't do these things because we are obligated to, but because we need to keep each other alive to live ourselves.

That is the meaning of unalienated labour. It's true of each other and it's true of the earth. There's no primeval reset, but a refusal to view others, human and not, as disposable. To recognize that thinking of human beings as superior is going to get us killed. To recognize that we are within a vast web of life that demands respect, from human diversity to animal and plant diversity.

To keep ALL of our friends alive and flourishing, not meet the demands of tyrants and demagogues.

[burnt-to-cynders]

Alright, time to actually make one of these for real, since this is looooong overdue. Hi! I'm Cynthia! I'm...a lot of things, and I struggle to describe them without it feeling inadequate! I play games, I write software for a living, I write non-software things for fun occasionally, I'm wildly horny, neurodivergent, a massive nerd who constantly wishes she knew more about everything.

Property of: @synthbang and @stalesweetrolls

Let's start with some ID stuff, I'm a pre-HRT(for now!!!) transfem, I go by she/they/it pronouns. My friends call me any fun variation of my name they can come up with, like Cyn, Cyndy, Cyndicate, etc. If we're mutuals, we're friends :3. I'm white, American(New England), poly, t4t, atheist, wildly sapphic, and physically, but not visibly, disabled.

As for interests, I've got literal dozens. Gaming, anime, manga, movies, writing, reading, music, pole dancing, ttrgps, game design, hiking, conservation, activism, fashion, just to name a few, each of which splinters into dozens of little sub-interests. Ask me a dragonball question, I dare you.

Actually, ask me any kind of question. Asks are open all the time and so are anons. Go wild ya horny fools

FOLKS WHO ARE NOT WELCOME (DNIs)

Minors

Seriously, minors, this blog is very horny

Ageless blogs

Sissy kink blogs

Race and ageplayers

SIDEBLOGS

I have two sideblogs atm, although in actuality there's just one that's even remotely active.

@den-of-cyn is where I used to do my hornyposting. The big thing that's there now is the pinned post with a list of my kinks, for those of you interested in the horny side of the Cynner. The account got flagged as NSFT and I haven't been able to get that revoked yet, and moreover I decided to stop worrying about it and just started posting horny on main anyway. There's quite a few good ones on there that I haven't reblogged to here, and a few pics I haven't reposted, so if you somehow don't get enough horny nonsense on this page, you can always go there to see some vintage Cyn >:3

@thebookofcyn is my writing sideblog. It's where all my original stuff will one day live, when I get the spoons to put all my old stuff on it. It is SFT FOR NOW, IT WILL NOT BE IN THE FUTURE! Soon there will be a pinned post there explaining my tags and how to find stories. I'm hoping to post more there as time goes on and I actually embrace this hobby more.

TAGS

I layer my tags and usually don't do content tags, and I don't tag reblogs except to do responses. The tags that mean things on this blog are as follows:

#cynposting - Any post by me that has text outside of tags, including reblog replies. Searching this tag will get you everything I've written in text on this blog.

#cynful thoughts - Any post I think is horny. You can filter for this post if you want to see me being a degenerage, or filter it out if you'd rather not.

#pics of the cynner - Any picture of myself, pretty self explanatory. Most are accompanied by #cynful thoughts

#Cyn fits - pics of myself taken specifically to show off an outfit and explain why I chose it for that day.

#I asked - Reblog of an ask that I sent someone

#ask and ye shall receive - Tag for when I answer an ask

#get tagged idiot - Tag for when the only content of a post is me @ -ing someone in the reblog.

#pinned post - Last one, tag for the previous pinned posts I've made. This should be the last one. In theory.

And that's it!!!! For now. Probably. I'm a wordy bitch, so I expect this'll get longer and longer.

[captainjamster]

hihi!! I just seen your post about writing things for those who feel under represented in the community; and I was wondering... could you do one where Simon takes care of trans masc!reader on a really bad day of endometriosis pain?

Hey there anon, you're the very first request! Thank you so much for asking! This was originally going to be just 800 words, don't ask how we ended up at almost 3k lol. Sorry it took a few days, I hope you enjoy the fic! It's also on AO3 :)

Pairing(s): Ghost x transmasc!Reader w/ endometriosis (SFW) Warnings: Blood, menstruation, two off-handed mentions of sex Wordcount: 2.8k Summary: Simon takes care of your morning, despite your attempts to soldier on through a painful menstrual cycle. AO3 Link: Right here! <3

A/N: I hope this is enough "taking care" for you! Reader is indeed transmasc, but point of transition and upper anatomy is for you to decide. I might revise this one and upload an improved version, change the level of debilitation, add in HRT and increase how much Ghost does for you. But for now, here you go!! I think of Ghost as someone who conveys his love and affection through acts of service, and he'd die happy if you let him quietly manage every need you have. <3

Endometriosis currently affects around 10% - around 190 million – of women and girls of reproductive age. This statistic does not include the rate of endometriosis in non-women individuals with female reproductive genitals, which inflates the number even further. Despite the existing prevalence, endometriosis is underdiagnosed and overlooked within those who suffer from it, and this becomes even worse within trans individuals. I hope this fic can provide some love and representation for those struggling, especially my trans ppl <3

Full fic is under the cut <3

A dull throb in your stomach, pressed against the mattress is the first thing you register as consciousness slowly trickles through the thick fog of sleep. The sheets stick to your thighs as you try to roll over. Simon’s bulky, warm figure isn’t there to stop you from rotating flat on your back, encroaching onto his cold, empty spot.

You crack an eye open, looking at his vacancy in disappointment. The room is filled with an early, pale glow that peeks from around your curtains, brushing against the frame with each soft breeze from the open window. It’s not unusual for Simon to be up so early, but you miss the opportunity for morning cuddles.

A particularly sharp contraction in your stomach breaks the peaceful moment, your hand coming up to knead at the sore, bloated flesh. The last few days had left you in a pool of pain, the familiar ache creeping into your stomach and worming its way down your legs and up your back. Accompanied by the unsettling nausea and fatigue that wears you out even during a nap, you’ve resigned yourself to the fact that your least favourite friend would be making a visit this week.

Rolling back onto your stomach, you sit with the uncomfortable sensation throbbing through your midriff. It takes a moment for the damp, coldness beneath your pelvis to register, contrasted to the dry sheet your back was just resting on. Your eyes fly open, pushing yourself up and back onto your knees with a pained groan.

Even such a simple movement has a strong wave of pain flare through you, but your dismay at the mess staining your sheets is stronger. Your friend has arrived earlier and heavier than expected. The dark grey sheet is soaked in patches of black, tacky enough that you know it’s had more than plenty of time to steep into the fabric – thank god for the mattress protector Simon persuaded you into getting for other activities. Looking down, your skin is dappled with red, crusty and dried around the hairs scattering your stomach. The worst is pooled between your thighs, boxer-briefs drenched with a sharp iron scent that crinkles your nose.

Pushing through the wave of dizziness persuading you to the floor, you grab at the blankets frustratedly. You check them meticulously, scrutinizing them for even a speck of blood, but they’ve been far luckier in their escape of your mess. Throwing them haphazardly onto the floor, you set into action, working to hide the messy consequences of your cycle.

There’s no real need for the urgency that you move with, especially as every aching fibre in your body screams at you to slow down. Rationally, you know Simon wouldn’t react poorly to your calamity in the slightest, even if you asked him to change the sheets while you cleaned yourself up. He’s stayed with you during other cycles, never blinking an eye at anything menstruation throws at you. Yet he’s not here to help, and interrupting whatever he’s doing just to do something you feel capable of seems selfish. On another level, you don’t want Simon to see this right now. Frustration eats at you – for being stuck with this, for being surprised with an early cycle, and maybe just a little bit because you really wanted those goddamn cuddles. You’ve wrestled three of the four corners off when Simon catches you stripping the bed, a towel drapes around his neck, shirt damp with sweat that still drips from his hair.

“What’re y’doin’, handsome?” He rumbles, an eyebrow raised as he stands on the other side of the bed. His eyes flicker between the blankets clumped on the floor and the sheet you’re mid-tugging off the mattress.

Though his question is fair, the obviousness of your situation, and your irrational irritation makes it feel like he’s rubbing your misfortune in. Gritting your teeth, you wrench a little harder than needed at the fabric. “S’my fault, I’ll chuck it in the wash.” You grumble, pulling up the mattress to unhook the last corner, ignoring how your back groans with the motion. Simon makes a noise of protest, not unkind as he snatches the sheet you’re trying to bundle in your arms. “Don’t be daft, mate.”

His tone is flat and slightly exasperated as he pulls the sheet from you, looking at the myriad of stains on your front, glazing over the angry expression you’re giving him at his little quip. Before you can open your mouth to say something, he turns you by your shoulders, escorting you to the bathroom.

“What’re you doing?” You huff, taking your turn to ask an obvious question as you let him steer you to the ensuite. A grunt is your only response as he pushes you through the door, his warm hand leaving your shoulders to pull back the liner fully. You watch as Simon turns the taps, listening to the pipes creak as water begins to dribble from the head. He doesn’t make any move to pull off his sweaty athleisure, just fiddles with the tap, turning it much hotter than Simon would usually take his showers – oh.

Taking the hint, you pull off your boxers, wincing as the cold air hits your now-exposed, sticky skin. Simon’s hand is under the water, breaking the droplets’ fall as the water warms, but his attention is now focused on you. When you straighten up, tossing your briefs to the hamper, he meets your unhappy look with a question.

“Pancakes?”

You blink at him, indignance still plastered on your face in a grumpy scowl as your brain struggles through the pain fogging your thoughts, and Simon just raises an eyebrow.

“Eggs ‘n toast? Take-out?’

A moment of bemusement passes as you think for a second, until your mouth drops into a little o-shape, and guilt tints your cheeks red. “Oh.”

Simon huffs affectionately, echoing your “oh” as he pulls his hand back, waiting for you to answer.

“Pancakes?” You mumble, looking up at him through your lashes. The corner of his lips tug into what you’ve learnt is a forgiving smile, and he leans over your figure to press a soft, unexpected kiss to your forehead. His lips are soft – good, he’s had a drink after working out – and the appetising, musky smell of his BO fills your mouth as he leans in.

“Pancakes it is, darlin’,” he murmurs, pressing another kiss to the top of your head as he moves out the room, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him.

Before anything can drip from you and create an additional mess you can’t be bothered with, you climb into the showerbath, making sure the plug is hung up to avoid any water filling the tub. He’s perfected the temperature, and you feel like just lying down in the empty tub as your body goes boneless, feeling water drizzle down on you from the showerhead. It’s just enough to soothe the way your body aches, but not enough to make you feel any dizzier. By the time you’ve finished in the shower, your skin feels red and tender, but the heat has temporarily worked your muscles into a sleepy stupor. Though you swear the scent of metallic fetor lingers on your skin no matter how many scents you use, any visible remnant has been washed down the drain.

Pulling the liner back, a towel sits on the vanity, folded neatly with two painkillers resting atop the fabric’s surface and a half-full glass next to it. On the other side, a pair of your boxers and one of Simon’s shirts hangs from the edge. You didn’t even notice Simon slip in to leave them there – despite how long you’ve been with him, it’s still unnerving that such a big man can move without a sound.

Scooping the pills up, you take them with a mouthful of water, before unfurling the towel to dry yourself off. The ordeal is short, pausing to pull on your briefs and a sanitary product of choice before you finish drying your tender legs, hanging the towel to dry over the rail nailed to the wall.

A whiff of sweet, buttery batter permeates the bedroom as you step back into it, mentally bracing for a brutal war of ‘how many sides can I get on before one pops off’ with your goddamn super king sized bed. However, surprise stops you in your tracks, feet stuttering as you find the floor empty of blankets. They’ve returned to the bed, which has been made with a rehearsed, militarized perfection, corners tucked tightly in with barely a ripple across the taut fabric.

With one chore covered, you grab the hamper from the bathroom, walking out into the living room to the source of the smell. Simon is hidden in the kitchen, his back to the entrance as he stands over the stove, but the sound of your feet padding around the corner raises his head.

His hair is light and fluffy, the tips still damp as he puts down the spatula, walking over to take the hamper from you despite your objections. The musky sweat coating him earlier has been replaced with the artificial, clean scent of shampoo and soap - you have no clue how he’s managed to change the bed, wash himself in the spare bathroom, and make a start on breakfast before you finished your own shower.

Resigning, you move to the stove and take up the spatula, patting the pancake as bubbles rise to its surface. Barely a minute passes before Simon’s arms slip around you, taking the spatula back and letting it drop to the counter to interlock your fingers.

“Independent this morning, pet?” He murmurs, carefully placing his other hand over your stomach, feeling as it rises and dips with your laugh. The warmth that radiates from his palm is ridiculous, seeping into the sore muscles that are starting to ache again.

“C’mon, you’d call me feeding myself independent.” You tease, leaning back until your head meets his chest. It shakes as he huffs a quiet laugh, bouncing you slightly before answering.

“When I could be feedin’ you? Don’t reckon I’m wrong.” He grunts, wrapping your hand around the handle, his own still encompassing yours, smiling into your hair as he helps you flip the pancake with a flick of your wrist.

You give his retort an overly dramatic groan, but his attention is captured by an electronic beeping that sets off. The moment he pulls away, your body misses his heat, watching him open the microwave door to pull out a very familiar, tear-shaped heap of fabric. You step away from the stove, reaching out to take it from him as he extends it towards you. The cartoon-ish looking figure of a little ghost heatpack is hot to the touch, emitting the faintest smell of lavender and chamomile, and he gives you a small smile as you wrap your arms around it, holding it against your torso.

“You think of everything, huh?” You laugh, heart squeezing as he answers you with a lop-sided grin and turns back to the stove, pouring in the last of the batter.

“Not everythin’ – how ‘bout you make a cuppa and sit down, hm?” He rumbles, gesturing to near the fridge. Two cups are already coupled together on the counter, and you skip boiling the kettle again as lazy tendrils of steam already climb from its spout. Grabbing a couple of tea bags, you tuck the heating pack under your arm, filling up the mugs as you listen to the sizzling of the pan. Simon gives you a quiet “thanks, love” as you set down his mug next to the stove, but when you reach for a plate to start dishing out the cooked pancakes, you’re interrupted by a chiding “ah!” and large hands turning you around. “Go sit down love, I got this.”

The look you give Simon over your shoulder does nothing to sway his rejection of your help, big brown eyes staring back at you with an expectant look as he gently nudges you to the exit. Though it’s tempting to ignore him and stay, the effort of staying upright is slowly sapping any hint of energy you recovered in the shower.

Bringing your drink out and flopping yourself onto the couch, your legs scream in gratitude when your weight is finally shifted from them. The small ghost sits across your abdomen, radiating a relaxing warmth that soothes the muscles cramping violently underneath it.

Though it’s barely minutes that pass, Simon comes out to find you curled in the couch’s corner, wrapped up around the heating pad with a slight frown in your brow. The gentle clink of the ceramic against the coffee table stirs you from your light sleep, cracking your eyes open as Simon sinks into the couch next to you, his plate balanced on his thighs.

“Sorry love,” he murmurs apologetically, raising an arm to let you bury into him. You jump at the opportunity, shuffling yourself to press against his side, and a content relaxation falls upon you as his arm covers you protectively. Without moving you too much, Simon leans forwards to grab your plate, resting it on your lap and tucking a fork into your hand.

Looking at the pancakes, he’s given you an extra one in your stack, drizzled generously with your favourite toppings. Your chest squeezes at the sight, each carefully placed topping another homage to the tenderness that your lover struggles to verbalise.

“You’ve done so much for me this morning, Si.” You start remorsefully, eyes downcast to your stack of pancakes. With a grunt, Simon reaches for his fresh mug perched precariously on the couch’s arm, using a spare finger to hit the on button of the remote sitting next to it. “Not allowed to give my special boy some love when he’s roughed up?”

You give him a good-natured huff, digging into his side playfully. “Make it sound like I’m wounded, Si.” Simon snorts, pulling his eyes away from the TV to shoot you an amused look. “With the amount of blood, y’could’ve convince me.”

You laugh at the comment, letting the light warmth fill your chest until it’s dampened by the unspoken guilt still sitting miserably on your conscience. “Sorry for bein’ grumpy earlier,” you mumble.

Simon hums, pulling you tighter as he cuts into a pancake with his fork, raising it to your mouth. “Kinda figured you wouldn’t be top shape after seein’ the blood, s’alright pet. Y’ve told me that this shit hurts more than normal.”

Taking the mouthful, you give him a small, grateful smile, reaching for your own plate and cutlery to share a piece back. The pancakes are light and fluffy, not heavy enough to upset your stomach, but enough to be filling for how insatiable your appetite can get. “Thanks, Si. Still appreciate you’re patient with me, though.”

He hums thoughtfully as he chews, gently rubbing his thumb mindlessly against your thigh. “Patient? Nah. Johnny said y’deserve a ring for bein’ patient with my shit after deployment – he’d take the piss if I told him you’re thankin’ me for being patient.”

The way Simon drops the idea of marriage is so calm and casual, a significant contrast to how it makes your heart soars in your chest. Reigning in your excited response, you take another mouthful, giving him a grin that can’t quite hide how much you like the idea. “Hope you told him how useful this little guy has been,” you gesture to the ghost on your lap, “because it’s definitely my second favourite ghost since he bought it.”

The narrowed glare that Simon gives the plush heating pad has you giggling around a forkful of pancakes, looking at him with light-hearted exasperation. “Oh c’mon, I said second favourite!” You chuckle, watching him roll his eyes with a grumble.

“Yeah, yeah,” his tone is low and playfully grumpy, rumbling through you. “S’long as it’s me you’re cuddlin’ at night, ‘m not havin’ a toy steal my man.”

Mindful of your plates, you wrap an arm across his chest and ignore how your stomach complains at the movement, squeezing him lightly. “Never, Si. My favourite ghost.”

With a satisfied noise, he looks down at you, a mischievous half-grin on his face. “Good, that thing couldn’t fuck you half as well.”

The cheeky remark gets him a deeper dig in the side, enough to pry a grunt from him as he squirms, though he’s still careful with how much he jostles you. Silence quickly falls over you, Simon watching the news with a protective arm around you. He sips at his tea as you finish your plate, running a hand through your hair every now and then, placing a few kisses to your scalp.

When you’ve finished your meal, you put the plate on the coffee table, reaching for Simon’s to stack them together. Reaching forwards has you wincing, a pulsating pain in your core that makes your tailbone ache, and Simon swoops in to stop you in your tracks.

“Sit your ass down already,” he grouches, pushing you back into the couch as he scoops up your plate. “Told you, you’re bein’ dependent today.”

[intersex-support]

I've been recording symptoms of lack of estrogens in my body. I started puberty when I was 11 and i am now 15, yet my body seems to be giving big signs of not producing estrogens enough: missed periods, little blood loss, painful periods, lack of curves in my body, lack of breasts, androgynous face and voice. I started to consider having a hormonal imbalance and so what I found was PCOS, but there's a problem: I don't see many signs in my body that might indicate a high production of androgens. I don't have lots of body hair* and I don't have acne at all.

What could it be? I doubt that my puberty is just "late", as I already said. Or at least, at this point its a bit... suspicious...

* I do have body hair , but it's in a regular amount (at least compared to my friend it seems...)

Hi anon!

So as always, we cannot diagnose or give medical advice.

I can see why you might be wondering if there's any intersex variations that might cause some of the effects on your body that you're seeing during puberty. If you don't think you have any signs of high production of androgens, that rules out several intersex variations. Having a period also rules out some other intersex variations. There also can be a lot of causes for irregular and missed periods that aren't intersex variations, so that might also be important to look into.

I can list out a few variations that might possibly be a place to start looking more into, and the first step would probably be to see if you have any other symptoms and traits listed. All of these are pretty rare, and would require medical tests such as blood tests and genetic tests to diagnose.

FSH Insensitvity. People with this variation have a vulva, vagina, and ovaries, but their bodies do not respond to FSH, and their ovaries produce less estrogen. They might not get a period, and might not go through most parts of an estrogen based puberty.

Turner Syndrome. People with Turner's syndrome have a 45XO chromosome pattern instead of 46 XX. There is also mosaic Turner's, where some cells have 45XO and 46 XX. Turner's syndrome would probably only be relevant to you if you have other symptoms like a short height, congenital heart defects, being HoH/deaf, extra skin on the neck, wide chest, inability to straighten elbow joints, and low hairline. People with Turner's don't usually have a period without HRT, but sometimes people with mosaic Turner's do get a period.

Rarer and less likely, but Kallmann Syndrome is a form of hypogonadism where your body produces lower levels of hormones. Another key symptom is just completely missing a sense of smell, so if you don't have a sense of smell, that would be a sign.

Other causes of irregular periods that are not intersex but might be useful to look into are endometriosis and thyroid issues.

Overall, I think it would probably helpful to do some more research and figure out if you have another symptoms if this is something you're interested in exploring. If you don't have many other traits, it might be helpful to look into non-intersex causes of the things you're experiencing.

Truly wishing you the best of luck, anon!

[safety-pin-punk]

Hey Key,

It feels appropriate to ask you whether I can vent this but I figure tumblr anon communication is a bit slow.

So I was on my way back to my college town on Easter Monday

An acquaintance (not friend) of mine visited family in the same city so we decided to take a train together

Frame of reference: I’m 25NB, she’s 20FTM (she prefers her feminine given name and she/her since she isn’t actively transitioning yet)

We are both physically disabled and mentally ill

Being the queer neurodivergent I am, I went !!! at her and immediately started talking because hey, commonalities!

Half an hour in we moved on from physical disability to talking about the mental stuff and I mention I’m self-do autistic. And she goes “Nah. You can’t be.” And I go “Huh?” “You’re too talkative! You’re ADHD, yes, but you are too social and talkative to be autistic.”

Like… gee, man, maybe because we have met a few times and immediately clocked you as queer and neurodivergent? You think that might be why I’m comfortable talking rapid-fire?

“Nah, we don’t know each other that well, so that can’t be it.”

Right… and then she told me she doesn’t “want to endorse self-dx” because she thinks she might be hypochondriac and therefor any and all self-dx or preemptive diagnose “might make things worse because I think it’s worse than it is”

Like, yes, I understand and she explained she does experience psychosomatic symptoms in response to being stressed/ burnt out. I don’t deny psychosomatic responses. I believe that.

But also she straight-up refuses to look up anything that might help her?? When we were talking about physical disability (we both have chronic pain) I immediately pulled out my phone to send some coping ressources and self-help stuff

And she went “no, I never look at [coping] things, I worry if I read that, I will just convince myself that I’m worse than I actually am.”

Which, okay, reasonable boundary…

I told her about how I started using a walking cane, on my own, decided for myself that it helps. And also how most of my splints/ bandages are self-bought and self-administered because no doctor acknowledged my chronic pain so far.

And she goes “I sometimes have days where I have to drag my leg. I’m like-paraplegic when my psychosomatic symptoms get to their worst. But I would never use a cane! I don’t want to stand out, you know? I don’t want to catch attention.”

And I’m sitting there screaming internally like “You are entitled to be seen! You deserve accommodations! You just said some days you could use a wheelchair!! What the FUCK?!”

Yeah… and the longer our talk goes on, the more I read between the lines that she believes “if I do everything right, it will mostly go away”

Like, she forced herself to stick to “fibro-diet” to combat her rheuma and fibro, which is great on the surface. And then she tells me she forces herself out of bed and forces herself to cook, even if she doesn’t feel like eating, but she just pushes through because “the anti/inflammation diet can help with rheumatism”

And just– …my internal screaming continued.

I don’t want to dislike her! I recognise she’s young(er) and she’s naive and blue-eyed. While I’m just a cynic who’s been depressed for the majority of my life and I stopped giving a fuck about “not standing out” because my neurodivergent ass is too autistic and too ADHD to interact with people without standing out

Like, I’m ““high-functioning”” but at the same time I’m the kind of autistic who never had the chance to fit in. I have always been and will always be “the standoffish weird kid”.

But I just feel bad for her and at the same time I know I don’t want to become friends with someone who’s this blue-eyed “it will all be good if I just do the right thing”

I’m frustrated with her as an acquaintance and I just know if she tries to become my friend I have to give her sooooo many lectures

Among all these other things about how she is allowed to be non-binary and how she doesn’t need HRT to be trans and how she doesn’t have to cower in fear of changes HRT would do to her body because even if she’s binary FTM nobody’s forcing her to go on testo.

Just… so much frustration after this one 3h train ride :/

Fully agree, tumblr anon communication is very slow. Especially on my blog. I go through moods where I answer a bunch of things at once and then dont for a while. (sorry) Long post under cut

First of all, I am so sorry about your friend invalidating your self-dx autism. Personally I'm all for self-dx, anyone whose dealt with doctors long enough knows how hard, how many hoops you have to jump through, and the amount of time and money required to get diagnosed with ANYTHING. I've definitely dealt with my fair share of non-medical professionals telling me both "You dont have this thing I have" but also "You definitely have this thing I dont have".

I see why you are frustrated by someone seemingly not wanting to help themselves. But it seems like she is trying, she just has never been exposed to the right resources to help her. Its kinda like. I went to a SUPER christian university, and there was this gay guy, wonderful dude. His view of his own queerness though? I had only read about people like him online until I met him. He was a pastors son, his whole life he grew up knowing that being gay was wrong and bad. He never had access to the resources he needed to learn how to love that part of himself. Not his own fault at all, but by the time he got to college, there was no changing his views. He now goes around preaching to other kids about his experiences being gay and how he represses it because God. He absolutely broke my heart.

My point it, your friend is young and naieve. She probably has never had access to the resources and information you have. Her experiences have probably been *wildly* different from yours. You can't force a 'fuck it' attitude onto someone like that. You just kinda have to wait and hope they grow into it on their own. Theres nothing wrong with not wanting to be friends with someone like that though. You are responsible for currating your own social experiences. I completely understand your frustration with the whole situation though.

[theravenflies]

My Takes

Consider these

People with personality disorders are not inherently abusive. Yeah, even people with NPD and ASPD (why do I have to say that?) There is no such thing a narcissistic abuse. People with ASPD are not serial killers. They are people, stop putting them down for no reason. People with personality disorders are welcome here. All of them.

Armchair diagnosing is bad. I don't care how shit someone is, if you call them a narcissist, a psychopath, a sociopath, a compulsive/pathological liar, or literally any other disorder that they haven't been professionally diagnosed with, you're a dick. You can't know what's going on in their head. You are not their doctor and are not qualified to diagnose them. And it's just a dick move to diagnose Casey Anthony as someone with a heavily-stigmatized symptom THAT I ALSO HAVE HAD

Stop. Tagging. Your. Writing. With. Disability. Tags. The PTSD tag is nearly unusable because everyone tags their fics as PTSD. Stop it. That space is not for you. It's for us.

People with intellectual, developmental, cognitive, whatever disability deserve to be heard.

As do semispeaking and nonspeaking autistics.

Yes, we do need to listen to caretakers, they're how some people communicate. No one is invalid because they're a caretaker, they're invalid when they're an ableist caretaker.

If the autism "cure" were to exist right now, it would mean eugenics. I don't give a shit if you want it, it would mean eugenics. Society is way too anti-autism for us to trust non-autistics with a cure. I won't get into my rant about the concept of a cure unless asked, it doesn't matter. What does matter is that if that cure is created, it will be forced on people, even those who vehemently oppose it, so it can't exist yet without putting people in danger.

Autism Speaks is shit. So is National Autistic Society. So is the Autism Society. ASAN is on thin fucking ice.

Stop tagging political posts with NPD, ASPD, compulsive liar, or no empathy. You're being ableist and armchair diagnosing. And putting that shit on our feeds.

ABA is bad. Yes, always. All of it. I lost a friend to ABA and I will not budge on this. All pro-ABA people will be blocked, I do not give a shit.

I do not care about syscourse. I am not a system and am not qualified to have an opinion on it.

If you point out typos, grammar mistakes, or whatever when the other person hasn't explicitly said it's okay, stop. You're being ableist.

Stop using TBI as an insult. Yes, I was dropped on my head (okay, I fell, but still,) as a baby. Fuck you too.

This is a safe place for systems and I'm firmly anti-Split.

Autistic and intellectually disabled people are allowed to transition, be queer, get tattoos, drink, have sex, whatever, should they so want.

Mental age is bullshit. He doesn't have the mind of a two-year-old, he has the mind of an adult with IDD.

The posts of disabled people are not an excuse for you to trauma-dump. I don't care what your ex did, that person with NPD wasn't talking about them and it's a dick move to bring that up on their unrelated post.

People should not have to work to live. No one. Ever. Period.

Healthcare should be free

Caretakers need to stop killing their disabled charges

Autism Mommies (TM) are shitty people.

Don't even get me started on Fathering Autism (bitch, you aren't fathering autism, you're fathering ABBY)

Disabled people deserve dignity and privacy. All of them. Yes, even those ones. We're still people. You don't need to know how we go to the toilet.

Fiction does not determine morality and sending people anon hate telling them to kill themselves is a shitty thing.

Telling people to kill themselves in general is a shitty thing. What are you gonna do if they actually do it and you get arrested for manslaughter?

Trans kids deserve to transition, intersex kids deserve to not be mutilated and forced onto HRT when they can't or don't consent, children can and will be queer

Actual sex education needs to be standard

Label policing LGBT+ identities is bad

Devotees and "transableds" are not allowed here

Children and disabled people deserve to exist in public, even if you don't like us

Stop. Saying. Retard. Stop using autistic as an insult. Stop it and go to hell.

I'm pro-choice and I know you don't actually care about fetuses with Down Syndrome, you're just trying to guilt me.

I will reblog with more takes as they occur to me

And, most importantly, listen to ALL disabled voices. All of them. Every single one. We stand together or we don't stand a chance.

[olderthannetfic]

Uwu smol bean anon (lol): Ugh I just realized I said "non-HRT" when I meant "on-HRT." I sent that late and completely reversed the meaning with one letter.

--

[anti-terf-posts]

Why do you defend detransitioners when most of them are transphobic and toxic? I was forced to detransiton for a few years, and I was part of that community, and they largely support transphobia, transmedicalism, enbyphobia, conversation therapy, threats of rape as a way to make people stop being trans, and they fetishize transphobia and abuse. When I was in that community, I saw so many miserable detransitioners kill themselves because of feeling like they should have been trans but just couldn't, and I saw so many others encourage suicide in trans people.

When I retransitioned/came back out, I was physically assaulted by a someone in the detrans community, and I was doxxed and threatened by others. My family was threatened and I had my house swatted.

There's a big difference between people who aren't on HRT or who change their labels or are forced into the closet and the kind of transphobic monsters who actually make up the detrans community, the ones who harass and hurt people, who try to ban access to trans health care, the ones who make being trans in public illegal, and the ones who turn their whole personality into hating trans people because they feel wronged by us.

You have no idea how large that majority of the detrans community is unless you're in it. But it's just transphobes who are inserting themselves in a community they purposely left. They're not LGBT+, they're unsafe, you are transphobic if you support detransitioners.

yikes I'm really sorry you had to go through all of that anon :( /gen

but the thing with detransitioners is that they're not inherently bad people. Yes, it's true that many of them turn out to be raging transphobes, but there's definitely many out there who are in full support of trans people. I, for one, have many detransitioned friends, all of them are in support of trans people.

Think of it this way. They're just people who explored their gender identity, and realized that certain labels were not for them. How is that any different from someone identifying as non binary, and then realizing that they're trans?

Again, I'm sorry you had to go through all of that, but please understand that detransitioning isn't an inherently bad thing to do.

[thatdykepunkslut]

Hi I'm sorry about being on anon and I promise this isnt bait or anything I'm just a coward. I'm just curious what your thoughts on this post are as a transfem? I'm transfem myself and I really don't know what to think about it so I'm hoping to hear some other opinions on it, and you tend to have well thought out/non-reactive opinions. I truat your thoughts on queer issues a lot more than some other blogs, anyways. Anyways here's the post:

https://www.tumblr.com/hellyesbro/759628547117744128/

(I don't recommend reading the linked post, in my opinion it's a vent post more than an actual argument to be had, honestly I'd remove the link if I could because I don't want PV getting harassed for it)

Idk, I'm not sure that's really the kind of post that's meant to be analyzed. I've been assaulted and I've had my HRT restricted (although not in the same way, I didn't come out or even think to experiment with clothing until I left home, I'm just currently too broke to afford my meds or appointments), but I don't think that comparing the two has any real value to me personally?

Like Power Violence's personal thoughts on the matter are valid, if that's how it feels than that's how it feels. I think it's reasonable for different forms of abuse to be ranked differently by different people, the only reason to universalize these is in order to establish "fair" punishment (I suppose with the exception of murder because the victim doesn't really have a say in how they rank that experience) and therefore I have no interest in objectifying that.