i’m a simple boy. i cannot resist being named after Outside

creating queer headcanons that no one else agrees with is the meaning of life. btw

You don’t have to say it out loud… we already know 😉💋

Foolishly bought a chest binder I had a feeling wouldn’t fit in hopes it actually would. Tried to sell it on eBay, but my account was suspended permanently for no reason and I don’t want to bother trying to make a new account.

It’s from Spencer’s and size 2XL. I’m a fat bitch, so don’t waste your time if you, too, are a fat person.

I paid $27, so I’d like to be repaid in full. I only accept PayPal or Ko-Fi. I’ll cover shipping if it’s not too much. USA only because of the bullshit going on, sorry.

Doesn’t have to be for you, can be for someone you know.

Trans Day of Visibility 2026 AO3 Collection!

Whether this is relevant to you or not, please reblog this, because you never know which of your followers will be grateful to know about it!

Reminder that the Trans Day of Visibility 2026 challenge for South Indian movie fandoms is open and accepting submissions!

All submissions will be revealed on midnight of TDV, which is March 31st. That’s fifteen days from now, people!!

Readers and writers are all welcome! Bookmark the collection and wait for midnight on the 29th like little kids waiting up for Santa with me. And please do remember that the only reason people bother posting stories is in hopes other people will enjoy it - which they can’t know if you don’t leave at least a keysmash or emoji to tell them so.

2026 Trans Day of Visibility - Profile | Archive of Our Own

im not even a trans man. why ddid my brain come up with “givin that girl lethal injection the way i take my T, when the surgeon chop off my titties call that the guillotine”

JUST GOT MY FIRST BINDER, LETS FUCKING GOOOO

I wanna get my pussy installed and then i can tattoo “this machine kills fascists” atop

Transitional tales

I speak of days old and new,
of cycles of love and life,
from thought to thesis,
incubation to infant,
journeys of loss and learning,
taught by grief & growth,
unmatched lesbian teachers.

I started a small boy,
though he didn’t recognize himself as one,
though I took part in systems,
the internalizations could never touch the true self,
the identity at his core.

I was a fae child,
a thing of alien curiosity,
at once adored and hated.
Left apart from his peers,
I learned how to help myself.

He grew up in systems of structure,
sterility loved more than humanity,
love restrained by senseless systems of worship.

I grew mad in that world,
A fae made of wild passion,
imprisoned in an iron chapel,
shackled into prayer to an invented idol,
false in its worship,
real in its cruel power.

But as his madness grew to fever pitch,
so too did my heart swell against its cage.
day by day,
his actions grew softer,
my hatred once senseless
now directed towards those that brought pain.

He now sat in the pews,
shackles weak with rust,
and I saw my time for what it was.

I slunk out of that chapel unnoticed,
A wounded animal still,
though they thought me tamed,
that heart still beat with primal anger and fear.
his unseen claws much more dangerous than those they had so painfully removed.

And so the prodigal son left,
into a world he could no longer embrace,
for the light had blinded him to truth.
but he still had what they never were able to tarnish,
his dreams,
his artful whimsies and hopes,
expressed by his sleeping, imprisoned mind.

And so, he laid to slumber,
to give rise to my first form,
a being as capricious and confused as any dream,
for that’s all that i was at the time.

And as any being does,
(for that’s what I newly was)
I lived, grew, learned.
Free from the locks my progenitor lived within,
I embraced the nature he had been denied,

And as i knew him,
I began to know myself.
As much his creation as my own,
we shared that nature now bared.

His had been twisted into worship of an idol,
whipped into obedience.
His temple acid washed until white as a frozen corpse laying on an altar of marble.

My nature was his laid bare in all its eccentricities;
Love, damaged but breathing,
connection, pale from being locked away,
identity, branded yet untamed,
And me, his hope embodied.

I returned to our roots,
finding love at my core,
aiding connection for those unable,
nurturing identities unsupported.

And as my love grew,
so did I, as is the nature of hope.
I was no longer a dream, but a reality.

And that old temple,
the pillars I had inherited,
began to grow again after so long.
As my beginning had let his blood run down the altar,
he had given it another life,
another caretaker in me.
I care for these grounds as his corpse decorates the throne once occupied by that patriarchal idol, cruel manhood replaced by the kindness of one forced into boyhood.

Now this temple has grown a mask aligned with our true core,
one of raucously loving femininity,
until such time I can tear down the sterile marble for something more humble in stature,
more beautiful in its detail.

A temple containing my past and present,
Corpse and Creation,
Dedicated to the only two gods worthy of worship,
love for one another,
And Narcissus’ love,

The Series of our Selves.

Polyamory, Chosen Family, and Black Queer Love

Not a ‘how to be poly’ guide. More like: here’s how our Black queer, friendship‑first relationship actually feels from the inside, and how Miss Major’s life keeps shaping my idea of chosen family.

Ik wist al heel jong dat ik geen jongen was en vertelde rond mijn 8ste in 1986 dat ik een meisje wilde zijn.

Wat toen nog niet zo bespreekbaar was en werd in plaats van naar een psycholoog naar een psychiater gestuurd dat kind is niet in orde.

Het jaren lang verdrongen en pas weer zo'n 30 jaar later kom ik bij de huisarts omdat ik me toch nogsteeds anders voel ik had zoals normale mannen van mijn leeftijd geen baardgroei snor of überhaupt lichaamsbeharing wat tot een onderzoek lijden, waaruit blijkt dat ik met het kleinfelter syndroom ook wel 47xxy chromosoom ben geboren.

Daar werd in 1977 nog niet voor geprikt bij baby’s. Wat is kleinfelter syndroom?

Bij kleinfelter zijn 1 op de 600 jongens niet volledig een jongen symptomen te klein ballen, te kleine penis, geen tot zeer weinig vruchtbaarheid, nauwelijks tot geen lichaamsbeharing geen snor of baardgroei.

Toen ben ik gaan praten met mijn huisarts en vertelde wat ik op mijn 8ste thuis had verteld ik nu inmiddels 38 jaar ik hoor een vrouw te zijn.

Op 22-11-2022 op de wachtlijst gezet van de genderpoli Radboud UMC te Nijmegen en op 03-01-2023 eraf gehaald voor gesprek met endocrinoloog gehad.

En moest nu minimaal 10 maanden met een psycholoog praten of wat ik wilde ik ook wel echt wilde.

Bij de 5de maand begonnen aan de oestrogeen behandeling bij de 10de maand kreeg ik de goedkeuring om mijn geboorte acte te laten wijzigen zodat ik voor de wet al vrouw zou zijn.

Testosteron waardes nu 1,7 en mijn oestrogeen spiegel staat nu op 450.

Op 11-07-2024 krijg ik mijn vrouwelijke paspoort met officieel V/F en mijn meisjesnaam Geneviève H.

Nu ongeveer 28 maanden aan de vrouwlijke hormonen en sta sinds 2 jaar op de wachtlijst voor mijn geslachts operatie die hopelijk dit jaar nog gaat plaatsvinden.

Ik ben al zeer blij met de erkenning in het paspoort maar ook zeker met de vrouwlijke vormen die door de oestrogeen behandeling zijn gekomen, ik heb inmiddels borsten van mezelf niet groot maar ze groeien wel.

Dit alles heeft straks 42 jaar geduurd ik was liever vroegtijdig in mijn jeugd al geholpen dan nu pas op latere leeftijd.

Met geluk ben ik met mijn 50ste volledig een vrouw.

Nu voel ik me soms nog zeer ongemakkelijk en voel me vaker een shemale dan een vrouw dit natuurlijk omdat ik mijn jongens geslacht nog heb en inmiddels ook borsten.

Inmiddels maak ik me wel dagelijks op en draag ik al meer vrouwen kleding dan mannen.

Mocht je naar aanleiding van mijn ervaringen en verhaal vragen aan mij hebben kan je die gewoon stellen. Ik ben hier zeer eerlijk en open over.

Met vriendelijke groet

Geneviève Hörmann

Random rant but I am really tired of dealing with cis people who think they’re such awesome allies but actually aren’t.

And I don’t mean accidental misgendering or the whole “her pronouns are they/them” thing or anything like that. I mean people who by all means will at least try to gender me correctly and say they respect my identity, but think that their doing the bare minimum means they aren’t transphobic in other ways.

There’s a woman I met in college who responded to me sharing my pronouns with “slay!” and then would proceed to call me “girl” constantly. Men that I talk to will subconsciously speak over me or not take me seriously, and then they’ll do the same to other afab nonbinary people and transmacs. I’ve had to explain to multiple people that no, you cannot misgender someone as punishment for them being a bad person, whether they’re a bad trans person or a cis transphobe. Or having to explain that no, being raised as cis and then discovering your identity later in life (no matter how late) does not automatically mean that you were “socialized” a specific way, because trans people can be bullied as children and therefore be denied things like “proper” cis socialization as punishment. I’ve had people who say they respect me still hit on me if they’re only attracted to women or hit on me in a way that tells me that they still think of me as a woman, sometimes in very misogynistic and demeaning ways. I’ve met trans “allies” who will respect binary trans folks but not me, or respect me but talk shit about xenogenders and neopronouns. I’ve been called misogynistic terms for coming across as “too aggressive” or in my corrections or speaking up about transphobia. I once knew a woman who misgendered me accidentally one time and, after being corrected, started groveling with her apologies and nearly started crying, putting me in a position to comfort her when I was the one who was hurt (if only slightly). Too many times, I’ve been in situations where cis “allies” have been more upset by the idea that they could possibly be perceived as transphobic than the fact that they may have hurt someone or put someone in danger.

I’m not saying every ally has to be “perfect” or whatever and nothing in particular brought this on. I’m just thinking about it and I’m so tired of it.

ive always struggled with body dysmorphia, i think it comes with the package of being trans. i could never tell if it was my brain who lied to me or the mirror. i was never enough, too wide, too tall, i was always too much. but ive come to realize the only way i can come to love myself is by loving how i interact with the world. i hate my legs, but they let me walk around in the sun, i hate my arms but theyre what let me hold the ones i love, i hate my face but its what lets me smile when i make a stupid joke, i hate my voice but without my voice im not me. without me, im not me. maybe writing all this down will help me actually believe it lol

Nooooo you have to min max old school runescape! You can’t just farm black demons and spend all of your cashstack on just 30 construction noooooooo

ego renegade boy got me thinking abt what other execution methods can be metaphors for transition. like lethal injection yeah that’s hormone injection. guillotine is transmasc top surgery OR maybe it’s razor blade for shaving. hanging is phalloplasty bc haha get it you’re hung. electric chair idk ig laser facial hair removal is the closest? what the fuck is firing squad.

Where Do We Go from Here?

Being transgender is not exclusive to AMAB individuals, and if you think that, you are contributing to the genocide of our people by helping to obscure the wider population of transpeople and making our existence look even easier to eliminate and even easier to ignore the deaths of.

And to allies looking into our community, by attacking AFAB trans people you are perpetuating the sterotype that transwomen are predatory towards what the political right considers women.

Intercommunity bigotry is making our existence look easier to justify exterminating.

I think my transfem magical girl transformation is…21 years due.