#and chew estrogen

[queenofsodor]

DOAheads will be combing through multiple comic archives in order to build a cohesive reading of Walky or Danny as trans girls which to be clear i also do because i can see the former and am a ride-or-die supporter of the latter

is anybody brave enough to go up to bat for reading Faz and Mike as repressed trans girls

[genderqueerdykes]

I've heard smoking can harm the effects of estrogen, does this apply to nicotine in general or just smoking?

thank you so much for asking this question, this is an extremely important matter to discuss! smoking while taking estrogen HRT is highly discouraged for 2 reasons.

the first is that smoking (nicotine) has been shown to completely neutralize and eliminate the effects of estradiol altogether:

nicotine reduces the amount of circulating estrogen one has in their system, which can lead to menopause in many individuals.

the second reason is that smoking nicotine can increase risk of life threatening clotting disorders like stroke, heart attack and pulmonary embolism:

many folks are not informed of the fact that estrogen hrt can cause increased risk for pulmonary embolism and heart complications- this is why it's vital to make sure you get testing done by a professional to make sure what levels will be safe for your body, or what complications you may face if you have blood clotting or heart issues.

i can't find too many studies that disseminate different types of tobacco usage (chew, vape, patches, etc.) but it does in fact seem like the nicotine itself, no matter how it's administered, greatly affects one's estrogen levels.

overall, i would say it would be best to completely quit using nicotine if you are planning going on estrogen HRT. not only will you see more of the effects you're looking for, but you'll feel better in general, and have a way reduced risk of stroke and heart attacks. there's little to no point in taking a medication that will become completely useless once administered. i had a problem with smoking cigarettes for a while and i wish you the best if you do, yourself.

i hope this information has been helpful, thanks for stopping by! good luck out there

[slutforfinnickodair]

HOUSE RULES

𓂃⋆.˚ i'm not broken, i'm just shallow.

𝒢reg house ੭୧ f! reader ┇ head (f!receiving) ⋆ age-gap ⋆ secret relationship

It was a boring Friday evening with both of your parents sitting with you by your dining table. Your mom, Dr. Samantha Wilson made your favourite dish, yet the only thing you could think about right now was what was waiting for you later on.

If you managed to lie your way through out of the house, of course.

“So how was your day?” Your dad, Dr. James Wilson, oncologist at Princeton-Plainsboro asked with curiosity laced in his tone.

You swallowed your food before opening your mouth to speak, debating on your answer.

“Great, except for the fact that I got traumatised by Dr. White. He made me write a whole essay on how estrogen would work in a male body. And I have to present it, in front of the whole hospital next week.”

“That’s amazing.” Your mom spoke while you gave her a look.

“No, Mom, it’s not. Didn’t you hear the part where I said I have to present it to the whole hospital? And I only have a week.”

“Well, better get to it then. As I heard Dr. White is very cold-hearted. He won't expect any less than perfect from you.”

“Thanks.” You murmured. “I’m not even qualified to become a diagnostician any time soon. I don’t get why I have to study biochemistry when I signed up for a course in psychology.”

“Well why wouldn't you want to be a diagnostician?” Samantha asked.

Wilson pressed his lips together to keep him from smiling, but the subtle twitch of his cheeks and the way his eyes glinted, you could see that your dad had a really hard time keeping his laughter in.

“You want me to work at Plainsboro, right?” You asked.

“Well obviously. Why would you work in a different hospital when your Dad already works in one?” She raised a brow while you dropped your shoulders.

“Well, I don’t think they would need another diagnostician anytime soon. Unless House decides he’d want to die of Hydrocodone-Paracetamol overdose, I’m sure Plainsboro won't need another doctor playing “Who’s the killer?”

Sam smiled before taking another bite out of her food.

“Um…I was thinking since it’s Friday and I practically got an excellent on all of my assignments…maybe I could spend the weekend at Cathy’s place?”

“Catherine just moved out from her parents place, no?” Sam asked while you nodded.

“I thought I could go over, and spend a girly night with her, you know. She needs me. Just as much as I needed her when I was going through recovery.”

“Oh let her go, they don’t even meet anymore that often.” Wilson leaned back in his chair while your mother was still sitting in front of you with raised brows, chewing softly on her food.

Shit.

Did she find Greg’s shirt in my laundry?

“Okay.” Samantha spoke, chugging down her water. “But your father will drive you.” She continued. “Public transportation has been nasty these days. And I don’t want you to get lost in New Jersey. Potential place for serial killers.”

Yeah that’s exactly why she decided to settle down and marry a man from here.

“Actually I can't.” Your dad responded. “Car’s been breaking down since I drove home from the hospital. I’m sorry, Sweetheart. You either go by bus or metro.”

A big rock fell down from your heart. You couldn't even put it into words how grateful you were that the damned Volvo finally broke down. You always had to go from Cathy’s place and take the metro to Baker Street.

“It’s alright, Dad. Don’t worry. Thanks though. Dinner was nice, Mom. I’m going to pack my stuff.”

The walk from the station to Greg’s place wasn’t that far away. The weather was humid, but still warm due to it being only early October.

The fact was that since you got treated for your kidney stones and have been under the care of your dad’s so-called best friend, things have maybe changed a little bit.

Okay.

They changed a whole lot.

In the past few weeks, you tried to seem normal about the fact that every weekend since the first day of your first semester you’ve been spending your time at House’s place.

Anyway, your relationship wasn't much of a Girlfriend and Boyfriend type of bonding. Some would assume that maybe what you two were doing was just the result of some kind of sexual tension that lived in the both of you.

But the thing is with the Forbidden Fruit that the more it’s forbidden, the more you want it.

And that was exactly your case with Greg House.

Except for the fact that it wasn't all that sweet and dovey and lovely as others around your age expected a relationship would feel like.

Sure there were moments where both of you felt vulnerable around each other. You more because well let’s be honest, Greg’s not a man of feelings.

You turned a corner up to Baker Street, looking out for the number 221 as you walked straight by the apartments. Your sneakers creaked slightly on the leaves that fell down on the pavement.

Even though you knew exactly which apartment was he living in and how far was it from the beginning of the street you tried to brace yourself. Your breath hitched whenever you thought about what happened the last time you were at his apartment.

That poor piano…

The door clicked softly behind you as you stepped into the familiar apartment at 221 Baker Street, Apartment B.

It was dim inside, the only real light coming from the flickering TV screen playing some late-night crime documentary, the volume turned down low — almost just a whisper in the background. The place smelled faintly of old books, leather, and a hint of something sharper — antiseptic, maybe. Or him.

Gregory House was exactly where you expected him to be: sprawled out carelessly on the battered brown leather couch, one long leg thrown over the armrest, a thick medical file balanced precariously on his stomach. His reading glasses sat low on the bridge of his nose, half-sliding down, but he didn’t bother to fix them. His cane was tossed carelessly on the coffee table, along with a half-eaten container of Chinese food and an open bottle of Vicodin — standard décor for him.

He didn’t look up when you entered. Just turned a page with a lazy flick of his fingers, his voice dry and sharp as ever.

“About time. I was starting to think you got kidnapped by one of those serial killers your mom’s so worried about.”

He finally glanced up at you over the rim of his glasses, the smallest smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. “Which would’ve been a shame. Finding another emotionally unstable young woman to warm my bed sounds like a lot of paperwork.”

You rolled your eyes and tossed your bag onto the armchair by the door.

“I had to dodge my mom’s twenty questions. Thought she found your shirt in my laundry.”

House barked out a short, sarcastic laugh, returning his attention to the file.

“Well, if she’s smart enough to connect the dots, maybe she deserves the horror of knowing who’s been defiling her little girl.”

You kicked off your sneakers and padded over the worn wooden floors toward him, your fingers brushing your pocket — the small silver key he’d given you a few days ago burning against your fingertips. Your own key. To his place.

He didn’t say anything about it. Didn’t have to. It meant something, even if he’d pretend otherwise.

You stood in front of him for a moment, arms crossed, watching the way his fingers absentmindedly drummed against the folder. The way his body moved, even in stillness — relaxed, confident, like he had the entire world already figured out and it bored him.

The silence stretched between you, taut and electric, until finally you shifted onto the couch beside him.

“You gonna keep pretending I’m not here?” you murmured.

He didn’t miss a beat.

“Depends. Are you going to do something interesting, or just sit there looking needy?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but a smile tugged at your lips. He wanted you to make the first move — smug bastard.

You leaned closer, slow, deliberate, until your knees brushed his thigh. He tilted his head slightly to glance at you, his expression unreadable, except for that slight, infuriating smirk.

Without giving him a warning, you climbed into his lap, straddling him, feeling the roughness of his jeans against your bare thighs where your skirt rode up.

He grunted — not from surprise, but more like mild amusement — letting the file drop carelessly to the floor with a soft thud. His hands immediately settled on your hips like it was second nature, fingers flexing slightly.

“God, you’re needy,” he muttered under his breath, voice rough, low.

You kissed him before he could throw another jab at you — pressed your mouth against his hard, demanding. He kissed you back instantly, no hesitation, no tenderness. House didn’t do soft. He kissed like he argued: messy, fierce, and like he needed to win.

You felt him shift under you, like he was about to stand up with you in his arms.

You pulled back just enough to whisper against his mouth, breathless,

“Don’t. You’re not—”

“I’m not what?” he interrupted, raising an eyebrow, voice thick with mockery. “Strong enough? Gonna break my leg in half?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but before you could, he rolled his eyes exaggeratedly — and then stood up anyway, effortlessly lifting you into his arms.

You gasped, clutching his shoulders.

“You’re a stubborn ass!” you hissed.

“You’re welcome,” he shot back smugly, carrying you through the short hallway to his bedroom like it was no big deal, no strain in his gait, only the faintest limp — still cocky as ever.

You didn’t even realize you were holding your breath until he tossed you gently onto the bed, the mattress bouncing slightly under you.

He followed immediately, kneeling above you. His eyes pinned you to the bed, sharp, gleaming, and darker now, like a predator ready to devour.

“Clothes. Off. Now.” His voice was rough, commanding, but still dripping with sarcasm. “Or do you need a PowerPoint presentation on how sex works?”

You glared at him, cheeks burning, but the way he was looking at you — with that pure, hungry intensity — made your fingers fumble at your blouse anyway.

He helped, of course. With House, “helping” meant him undoing your buttons at an agonizingly slow pace, his knuckles brushing your skin with every movement, smirking when you shivered under his touch.

The blouse slipped off your shoulders, and he made a low sound in his throat when he saw the white lace of your bra.

“Well, that’s unfair. Bringing weapons to a knife fight,” he muttered, hands reaching behind you with shocking dexterity to snap your bra open in one move.

House stared for a beat longer than he probably meant to, then leaned down, his mouth closing hotly over your breast, worshiping you in a way his words never would.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, moaning softly as he trailed kisses lower, down your stomach, teasing the waistband of your skirt.

In no time, he was pulling down your tights and skirt in one smooth, careless tug, tossing them somewhere onto the floor.

His fingers slid under your thighs, prying them apart, his breath warm against your inner thighs as he kissed along the soft skin, slow and deliberate. You felt his stubble scraping lightly, sensitizing every nerve ending.

Then you felt his fingers stroke the fabric of your panties — slow at first, just barely there, featherlight — before he tugged it aside roughly. The cool air hit you for a second before the warmth of his mouth replaced it.

He spat lightly against you, the wet heat of it making you whimper, your hips jerking upward without thinking.

“Relax, drama queen,” he murmured against you, before licking a slow, firm stripe up your center, making you cry out his name, high and needy.

He sucked your clit into his mouth, humming low in satisfaction at the way you squirmed under him.

His fingers slipped inside you, slow, deep, while he talked you through it, voice low and rough against your skin.

“That’s it. Good girl. Just like that. God, you’re so easy — fall apart the second I touch you…”

Your thighs were trembling, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter, until your orgasm hit you like a freight train, knocking the air from your lungs, leaving you gasping, crying out his name.

He didn’t stop right away — kept working you through it, letting you ride the waves until you collapsed back against the mattress, boneless.

He finally pulled back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, smirking wickedly as he crawled up over you again.

He leaned in close, so close you could feel his breath against your ear as he whispered, voice full of that cocky arrogance that somehow made your heart race faster:

“That was just the warm-up. Hope you’re not planning on walking tomorrow.”

[twinkbutchblog]

Estrogen wouldn't fix Robert Chase but it would've calmed her down, in the same way a chew toy soothes the aching gums of a teething puppy.

[byte-babe]

PETE KOWALSKI HEACANONS ⭐️🩷

- TRANS FEM 🏳️‍⚧️‼️ (1 month on estrogen)

- Both of her parents love and support her snd even help her through her transition

- Still short (5’4).

- Fluent in Polish

- Got braces over the summer so her smiles are always crooked and awkward from trying to hide them

- When she’s not hanging out with Jimmy, she’s either locked in her room doodling or hanging around the nerds (not really hanging out WITH them, its just entertaining watching them argue about the dumbest things)

- Often visits Gary in Happy Volts (even though she knows he’s a horrible person, she still thinks of him as a friend)

- Mostly wears pants due to the lack of self confidence in wearing skirts around school.

- Chews on things whenever she’s deep in thought (pencils, nails, hoodie strings, etc.)

- A personal nurse for Jimmy and Gary

- Loves indie/rock music

- Secretly a horror film geek

- Easily startled

[the-most-humble-blog]

🚨 Why a Man Who Calls Other Men “Misogynist” in Front of Women Would Have Been Banished to Starve, AND get His Balls Torn Off by Ancient Baboons

💀 You either stand with men, or you get eaten by baboons. No in-between.🚨

📢 First of All, Let’s Get One Thing Straight…

If you are a man who virtue-signals about misogyny in front of women, you would have been:

📌 Exiled from the tribe. 📌 Stripped of your loincloth privileges. 📌 Hunted by predators that smelled the estrogen seeping out of your cowardly, spineless husk. 📌 Eventually found by a pack of baboons who used your testicles as a chew toy.

🚨 And this was not just because ancient men were “toxic” or “patriarchal.” 🚨 It’s because you were a useless liability to the survival of the group.

📌 The Harsh Reality: Weak, Treacherous Men Were Naturally Selected Out of Existence

Let’s Go Back to the Dawn of Man:

Picture it: 📌 The tribe is struggling to survive. 📌 Men are hunting, building, and protecting the group from wild animals and enemy clans. 📌 Women are securing resources, raising young, and ensuring the continuation of the species.

Then there’s you—some weak, self-loathing b*tch of a caveman who doesn’t fight, doesn’t build, and doesn’t contribute. 👉 Instead, you make yourself useful by calling other men “misogynist” in front of the women to score points.

How do you think this played out?

📌 The women, who actually wanted strong men to ensure their survival, looked at you with disgust. 📌 The men, who were actually securing food and defending the group, looked at you with contempt. 📌 The tribe saw you for what you were: a pathetic, backstabbing waste of resources.

And so, you were left behind.

Your last moments were probably spent: ❌ Begging for acceptance as the hunters walked away. ❌ Trying to “reason” with a hungry sabertooth tiger. ❌ Crying about “toxic masculinity” while getting your dick ripped off by prehistoric chimpanzees.

And nobody grieved. Because you didn’t matter.

📌 Fast-Forward to Modern Day: The Exact Same Dynamic Still Exists

🚨 Society has evolved, but human nature hasn’t.

Men instinctively distrust traitors. Women instinctively resent weak men who grovel for approval.

📌 Calling another man “misogynist” in front of women does not make women like you. 📌 It does not make you attractive. 📌 It does not make you respected.

🚨 It makes you a transparent, pathetic, backstabbing worm.

👉 Women know you’re a fraud. The moment you start parroting feminist talking points to get in their good graces, they see right through you. 👉 Men know you’re a traitor. They will never trust you, because they know you’d throw them under the bus for a crumb of female attention.

📌 Translation? You are socially exiling yourself. 📌 And in any other era of history, you would not have survived.

📌 The Scientific, Psychological, and Social Proof That Male Feminists Are a F*cking Joke

Want actual, research-backed proof that men who virtue-signal feminism are full of sh*t?

🔹 Study #1: Male Feminists Are More Likely to Be Sex Predators 📌 A 2020 study from the University of British Columbia found that men who strongly virtue-signal about gender equality are statistically more likely to exhibit sexually coercive behavior. 📌 Translation? The guys calling other men “misogynist” are usually the biggest creeps in the room.

🔹 Study #2: Women Do Not Respect Male Feminists 📌 A 2019 survey by YouGov found that women overwhelmingly prefer men who display traditional masculine traits over self-proclaimed “male feminists.” 📌 Translation? Women see through the act. They don’t want a sniveling lapdog. They want a man, not a mascot.

🔹 Study #3: Weak Men Are a Social Liability 📌 Evolutionary psychology studies have repeatedly shown that men who display weakness are perceived as unreliable and expendable by both men and women. 📌 Translation? If you were in a survival scenario, your as would be left behind.

🚨 The science is in: Weak, backstabbing men get eaten first.

📌 What Happens to Men Who Try to Appease Feminists?

❌ They get friendzoned. ❌ They get zero respect from men OR women. ❌ They become walking jokes. ❌ They inevitably get accused of the same sh*t they preached against.

👉 We’ve seen it over and over again.

Every male feminist who screams about “toxic masculinity” ends up: ✔ Canceled for inappropriate behavior. ✔ Exposed as a serial sex creep. ✔ Publicly humiliated when feminists turn on him anyway.

🚨 Because guess what? Feminists don’t actually respect male feminists either.

📌 You are nothing but a useful idiot to them. 📌 A pawn. A tool. A walking embarrassment.

🚨 FINAL VERDICT: If You Call Other Men “Misogynist” for Female Approval, You Deserve to Be Socially Exiled

🔹 Ancient society would have abandoned you to be eaten. 🔹 Modern society simply lets you embarrass yourself. 🔹 Either way, you are a walking failure of masculinity.

If you are a man, BE a man. 🚀 Stand by your principles. 🚀 Defend masculinity instead of apologizing for it. 🚀 And for the love of God, stop throwing your own gender under the bus like a spineless b*tch.

🚨 Because if the tribe had any common sense? You’d be long gone.

🔥 REBLOG if you’re sick of fake male feminists throwing men under the bus for clout.

🔥 FOLLOW [The Most Humble Blog] for savage truth bombs, unapologetic masculinity, and nuclear takes.

🔥 COMMENT if you’ve ever seen a weak simp try this sh*t in real life because...You either stand with men, or you get eaten by baboons. No in-between.

⚖️ LEGAL DISCLAIMER: This post is written for the purpose of artistic expression, cultural commentary, and psychological exploration of social and gender dynamics. It does not condone or encourage violence, harassment, or discrimination of any kind. Any references to power, strength, restraint, or critique are metaphorical, symbolic, and rooted in historical and cultural analysis. This is not a call to action — it’s a cultural mirror. If you feel offended, ask yourself if it’s from actual harm — or from seeing something you hoped no one would say out loud.

✨ TL;DR: If you're mad, it’s probably not because it’s wrong — it’s because you know it’s true.

[catboymettaton]

[ID: manga panel of L and Light in the helicopter. L says "chapter 13..." and Light is thinking about estrogen. end ID] Chapter 13: Pursuit In which Misa revels in knowing more than L, Light contemplates her future, and L shows off his sick helicopter piloting skills. (You could do it too!)

Higuchi’s voice crackled from Misa’s speakers. “Since I’m Kira and want you to trust me, I will halt the killing of criminals.”

L chewed his thumbnail. How odd, for Higuchi to come out and say that so clearly. He supposed that they already knew Higuchi wasn’t the brightest, or else he would be operating on his own. But to openly admit his identity felt like an absurdly risky move.

And how had Misa found him so quickly, on her very first try? Had she simply gotten lucky? Or had she learned something from that interview? But what could she have learned at the interview that would not have been revealed at that reception? Surely Higuchi would not have hinted at his identity in front of the others.

It was all very strange. It all seemed to work out a little bit too well.

keep reading

[tboyquackity]

um. cschlatt finds out shes transfem post revival. is this anything.

AUGH IT'S EVERYTHING it'suwgwudgdhgh. hold on let me explain.

i think the cschlatt transfem throughline is, again, soso easy to read theres sm to dig into and chew on. i'm genuinely bewildered it's not smthng ppl hve picked up on more because it seems so v clear to me.

guy refuses to accept help bcs he sees it as weakness makes it v clear his narrative lesson is -> he should allow himself support and compassion w/o recoiling, because he's allowed to want it and need it, w/o masking it in disgust or irony.

on that point, guy refuses to see himself as disabled despite having very very blatent disabilities that leave him in horror of himself -> a panicked assertion of power to take back "control". ok ,what is he in "control" of, what can he wield, what can he have a narrative over.

guy likes being called a pretty princess and wears dresses "as a joke", using that same irony coated sheen he uses w a Lot of the things he's afraid of being more earnest in, like his care for other people or his wants. he likes being wined and dined and cooed at, and then reacts to "feminine" things, the possibility of being "not a man", in the same wild rejection as the other two, the rejection of the body. a real man doesn't care if he's betrayed, that's why he takes it so personally. a real man doesn't care abt sm partner, who needs 'em, and thats why the bow shot becomes a canon death that he feels personally heartbroken abt. a real man isn't scared and panicked and a real man isn't disabled and isn't needy. and he definitely isn't afraid. and he doesn't like the dresses. -> well. yknow how it is.

even the gym...we don't know his limbo specifically but i think it's pretty easy to infer that the gym is at least partially a manifestation of it? ghosts are confirmed to be able to be tied to locations, like mexican dream w el rapids. and in his, he has that "control", surrounded by that ideal figure, here he's powerful and on top and sooooo intouchable. the mask worked. and it doesn't actually because it still doesn't match up w how he acts. a "real man" doesn't need anything, doesn't care about anything, and glatt is still still still so deeply needy and clingy and longing for connection, and still tries to mask it w things like "spanish lessons" and "horror mansions" tht end up just being an excuse to throw little parties in. uuwgh. who even ca(blows up 320 walls with my mind)

additionally ppl forget that limbo is supposed t like..not actually be hell lmao? it's torturous for sure but it isn't like. supposed to represent their worse nightmare? it's supposed to, i think, represent a state of being unable to move on. the train that won't ever pick you up. a existence of blankness where you can't feel a thing except waiting for the other shoe to drop. a gym full of idols that you will never be able to "live up to".

bcs of that schlatt is bigender (✌️) to me specifically...cuz he clearly likes Parts of masculinity. the little conman shtick, the big guy-isms. it's smthing he enjoys, but he's v clearly fearful and panicked abt the "Ideal Masculine Figure™️", the mythologized toxic version in his quest for control. the conman thing is fun and easy, and the freaked out assertion of "i'm a man, i'm not weak or scared, i'm not like them." is smthng else entirely.

(and again the symbolism WHATT the fuck was going on in the writer's room. the gym is handled like a trap that he can't get out of by himself, and being in the sun, being visible is tangibly equivalent to being burned. Fucking Excuse Me? Answer My Emails.)

anyways this is very brief and i could talk abt this for 53 years and counting but the thesis statement is estrogen and anti psychotics could've saved her 👍and she does eventually get revived and accepts it abt herself and he's so happy and loved. forever and ever. happy tgirl cschlatt tuesday‼️

[geyfrog]

Everything got easier once I started breaking things up into smaller pieces. Easier to chew. “Do I want to be a man or a woman” <- difficult question. “How do I want my hair to look” “do I want to buy and wear this skirt” “do I like the effects of estrogen or testosterone better” <- easy questions. Things don’t have to be one big decision-brick. They’re not actually fully linked. There’s dependencies (“I’d only want to wear these clothes if my body looked this way”) but those can be worked out on a case-by-case basis. You don’t have to buy the whole bundle, the items are sold separately

[scaredandlaughing]

you have him strapped to a chair, you have to feed him something

[armoryangel]

sometimes when I take my estrogen patches off I chew them and swallow them to make sure I'm not missing any potential e

[fantastic-mr-corvid]

chewing on Muro and Ramettas dynamic... What if i was one of the only people you felt actually saw and cared for you and lived up to the storybook idea of what a parent was but im only nine years older than you. You say im your favorite and trash talk your older brother but really its just because your afraid of him walking away just like your even older brothers and you know i cant leave you behind. He gets more and more absent and hes more affectionate towards me than towards you or even his partner but its because hes trying to guilt me into staying by him and make his partner jealous because he needs to feel wanted and hold power over both of us. Its exactly what you do to try and make him jealous of how you look up to me. me and your brother are still only nine years older than you. You look so much like him so you wear makeup to differentiate yourself and then you discover yourself and go on estrogen and have the surgeries you want and he helps you through them because its one of the only ways he knows how to love. and then his partner turns out like you and he breaks up with her because he cant stand that everyone is changing for the better while he refuses to, even though you and me just want him to be happy. He stays around, for me, because he thinks you dont need him anymore, and then he leaves because he wont even stay for me anymore. and you look in the mirror after he throws your words about not needing him back in your face and realize you now look so different from him. and you realize its because you are happy. and you know that is why he left you behind.

[dayurno]

(tiktok ai voice) chewing on kevin day’s estrogen patch straight from his abdomen like gum!

[bugchampion]

If I don’t get back on estrogen soon I’m going to start chewing on traffic light poles like their fucking popsicle sticks

[transgenderization]

chewing my way through a 100000mg estrogen bar like a beaver

[catboymettaton]

Chapter 6: Strawberry Pop Tart

Oh, even his dull monotone voice grated on Misa’s nerves. She glared up at him for the first time since sitting down. He was eating a strawberry pop tart. Misa usually loved pink, but everything looked ugly next to Ryuzaki. He didn’t deserve anything as wonderful as pink. She wanted to tear the pop tart out of his grubby hands. He looked her in the eyes as he put the rest of it in his mouth and chewed sloppily, crumbs falling out of his lips. Misa took another sip of her soup. “Well, you aren’t going to convict Light because Light isn’t Kira! And it’s polite to chew with your mouth closed, you know.” “Really.” He picked up a second pop tart. “No one has ever told me that before.” “Hmph. You’re such a weirdo they must figure there’s no point.”