Trying Realllllly Hard To Focus At Work But I’m Really Just Thinking About Having My Head Shoved Down

Keep your messaging simple:

“Trump fired everyone in charge of airplane safety, and a week later planes started crashing into each other.”

That’s it. That’s the messaging. Don’t get bogged down disputing Trump’s false claims. Just blame him, in short and repeatable sentences.

Finally something that clicks with me, ruffarf, in a doggirl way, not in a sexy way, not in an actually a dog way, but in a doggirl way.

i think the thing is, i worry that me making references to doglike behavior (wagging, barking, etc) will be seen as sexual by default. and its tricky because like yeah i am into pet play but i am also just a doggirl as a matter of personal identity. it gets weird and confusing though because i dont really identify with therianism as a concept (all love to my therians tho), i feel like i am a fully human woman, i am just a human woman who can be most accurately described as Being A Doggirl. its not a sex thing except for the times that it is. in conclusion i just wanna get to say wagwagwag and arfarf in conversation and have it not be weird!!!!! but alas i am forever cursed to think i am always making every person around me intensely uncomfortable :(

i dont want a job i want my throat fucked by a pretty girl while she grabs me by my hair and uses my throat like a fleshlight

bitches will hear a song and be like 'this makes me feel like i have a gaping hole in my chest' and then they put it on repeat. its me im bitches

Third base is getting stabbed in the stomach and slumping forward with your chin on their shoulder and blood dripping from your mouth

Oh no my camera fell!! Ahhhh 🤭😘

Nothing to see here but thicc thighs and bite marks 👀ok now I'm finally sleeping fr at 5am lol

Double post cause fuck this hit me hard. Death before detransition. Etch it on my fucking tombstone. Nobody can take this magic from me.

I don’t know how anyone expects me to be “normal” again. after transitioning.

like I could ever go back to that numb, half-version of myself now that I’ve finally started to feel.

There’s a whole new language living in me. Thoughts that weren’t there before. Feelings that crept in slow and now won’t leave—soft, girlish things that’ve carved themselves into my vocabulary. A blush when a girl holds my gaze too long. The way I catch myself swaying to music that feels like home in my hips. The aching desire to just be held without needing to explain why.

And then there’s my autism—sweet, difficult, intimate autism. The way I stall right before doing something, because my brain wants a blueprint first. I don’t need a push, I need a hand. Someone to whisper, “Here’s how it's done.” and maybe smile as they guide me through it.

But most people? They get uncomfortable with those kinds of requests. They don’t like slowing down, or making space, or walking me through the step by step. They get impatient.

Except trans girls.

Trans girls get it. We’ve all stumbled through these messy, glowing awakenings together. We’ve all had to relearn how to live in our own skin. And so when I hesitate—when I stammer or freeze or overthink—another transfem will often just… know. She’ll soften her voice, offer a reassuring look, maybe graze her fingers against mine like she’s saying, “I’ve got you. Let's try this again.”

It’s tender. It’s playful, too—how we flirt with our fear, tease the tension away. How a “let me help you” can turn into “let me hold you,” and suddenly, you're melting into her arms wondering how you ever existed without this.

And if I happen to fall in love with every girl who walks me through it?

Well… I think that’s just part of the magic.