cheerfulomelette:

what-even-is-thiss:

So you need a second puberty talk, huh?

Well everybody experiences different things at different rates but here’s what’s up.

In the first week to month:

• Your throat may start hurting and/or your voice might start cracking. This means your voice is changing. Your voice could drop slowly and gradually or you could wake up one day with a lower voice. The tone of your voice before T generally won’t tell you how deep your voice will be. Your voice could barely change or it could get really deep. It’s the same for cis men. This is all normal.
• Your clitoris will start growing. This is generally one of the first changes you’ll notice in the first two weeks. It may hurt a bit while it’s growing or it may not. It may grow more sensitive or it may not.
• You may start smelling different. The things that may smell different range from your sweat to your pee to your vagina. You generally don’t smell worse. Just different.
• You might notice a difference in your sex drive and sex and masturbation in general. You may want sex more. You may want sex less. You may want sex with different types of people or the same types of people. Your orgasms may feel different. It may be easier or harder to orgasm. You may wish to inspect your growing junk. This is all normal.

About 2-4 months in:

• Your voice will likely have lowered noticeably by the end of 3-4 months, but it won’t be done changing yet. Your singing voice may be very off key or difficult to control. This will even out with practice and as your new voice settles but it could take a while.
• Your period will likely be uneven and unpredictable at this point. If you’re lucky it may stop altogether. It’s probably smart to keep carrying panty liners and pads for a while in case of random spotting.
• You might get acne and other annoying changes to your skin. That’s puberty.
• Your fat will likely start moving around at this point to different areas but it will take a while for it to finish.
• You might notice more hair in general around your body at this point. You might not.
• You may be sweating more. This is a puberty thing.
• It may be slightly easier for you to gain muscle now if you’re the sort of person who works out

One year in:

• Your clitoris will likely have stopped growing and top out at 1-2 inches long
• Your period will likely have stopped completely at this point
• Your body hair and beard won’t be fully filled in to where it will be years from now but you’ll likely be shaving or managing a stringy puberty beard by now.
• Your hairline will likely have receded a bit by this point. This doesn’t automatically mean you’re losing your hair. Men’s hairlines tend to be further back than women’s. It’s smart to keep track of that though if it matters to you.
• Your body will still be changing but passing will likely be much easier by this point.
• Your voice will likely have settled a bit but you may still need to work on your singing voice more if that’s something that’s important to you.
• By this point you’ll likely have an accurate idea of how T has affected your sexuality and sex drive, if at all.

Reminder that things happen at different rates for everyone. It’s puberty so it’ll take a long time. You may still notice changes 3-4 years in.

This is a really good and comprehensive list. I just wanted to add a couple of things, because they weren’t clear to my reading:

YMMV, but some of these early things - eg: sweating, oily skin, acne, sex drive - may come on very strongly and be very intense but ease off with time. If you become intensely horny after only a few months on T, this will decrease to a manageable level in about a year or so. You will, very likely, eventually stop sweating through your clothes and your skin’s oil production will probably settle down. However, in all cases, your baseline level will likely be higher than it used to be.

You may eventually be able to grow a full beard, but it will take longer than a year for your facial hair to fill out - this is true of cis men also. Also true of cis men, you may not be able to grow a full beard; this is genetically determined and not a sign of insufficient testosterone.

As always, your experience of T is going to differ from the next guy’s and, as I was warned repeatedly, you can’t choose the changes you get or the order you get them. Your best models for what to expect are your male relatives.

kiskezitcsokolom:

frontseatpocket:

get panini pressed, idiot

macskafogó real!

(via shabbytigers)

have-a-hygge:

August 5th, 2023 12am

I negotiated another 30 days. A patreon donated $765 to the fund. Xcel helped themselves to $387. So I’m up overall. I Now have $443 out of the $3000 I need on Monday just to keep my house for the month. I’m literally too afraid to buy food. Please Help Us! Then I have to get money for first and deposit in this ridiculous city. Any purchase made the 5th of August will receive a free 6"x 8" and a free 9"x 12" of the artist’s choice.

Donations $200 and over will receive original painting as a gift from me.

Venmo- Kate-Havekost

Paypal- havekatart@gmail.com

KateHavekostFineArt - Chalking in the Garden - Etsy

Shop Chalking In The Garden by KateHavekostFineArt located in Denver, Colorado. Smooth shipping! Has a history of shipping on time with trac

Etsy

stuckinapril:

The trick is to do it without shame. Literally anything could be cool if you just did it shamelessly

(via weltenwellen)

g0ffik:

spacedkitty:

bisquid:

Okay so bearing in mind that I have ADHD and Chronic Terrible Observational Skills:

• I am in Cardiff
• For a concert I am attending solo
• Doors open at 5
• 4:15 ish I go ‘hmm I should eat something’
• Cardiff is - unsurprisingly, being tiny and yet home to FOUR concert venues - Very Busy
• Find McDonald’s
• McDonald’s is very full. I recall my last concert related McDick’s experience, and promptly bounce
• Directly across the street
• Is an Italian restaurant
• It looks closed but fuckit maybe I can beg for like. Bread or some shit
• Go over
• Am immediately pounced upon by the hitherto unnoticed chain-smoking woman hanging out by the door mostly hidden by a potted ficus(?)
• “I was wondering if you were open and if-” “yes yes we are open what would you like?” (strongish Italian accent)
• Inside restaurant is Deserted
• Explain that I’m sort of in a rush, am assured it’s fine
• Order chicken milanese which is generally a pasta dish with a breaded chicken component
• Am led to seat nearish the front and promptly provided with a pint of coke in a glass tankard
• Am then provided with a front row seat to an absolutely incomprehensible series of people entering and exiting (and in one case walking directly into) the door to what I can only presume is the kitchen
• Starting with the guy who had been sitting at a table chain-smoking over a pile of papers
• I counted at least three people exiting at least twice without actually entering in between
• Am finally brought food
• It is a breaded, butterflied chicken breast approximately the size of my face and a small pile of pasta approximately the size of my fist
• It is all delicious
• Chain-smoking papers man reappears, now wearing a chef’s apron labcoat thing
• Go up to pay, chain-smoking ficus lady is now having a very loud argument in a language I did not recognise but was not Italian Welsh English French russian Gaelic or Spanish
• She sees me, says, and I quote 'ah little girl lost, one moment’ and promptly hangs up
• I am 27 and only nominally female
• I am not remotely lost
• She charges me for the pint of coke but not the food
• I try to point out that she hasn’t charged me for the food
• 'do you want to pay for the food?’
• ’…. Not if I don’t have to?’
• 'good’
• I leave. The door is now full of half a dozen very tall very Italian men and one absolutely adorable cocker spaniel
• I ask if I can pet the dog (I have my priorities straight okay)
• I am allowed to pet the dog. The dog and I are now best friends
• The dog lead holder asks me in extremely accented but impeccably correct English if I had enjoyed the food
• 'yeah it was great!’
• Everyone laughs a bit
• I smile and pet the dog and realise I’m now late for the concert and hurry off
• 
  
• 
  
• I see a post on Tumblr about mob fronts and several connections are made in my brain all at once

Why do mob fronts always have like, some of the best food though?

Like, it’s usually not the expected “restaurant version” of food (see above chicken dish) but it’s almost always fucking delicious!

I suspect because if you’ve gotta sit around all day in a place that doesn’t really need mobsters, Just In Case, then you want good food to eat while you sit around. also, the defining feature of a front is that it actually functions as the business it’s pretending to be, also Just In Case.

anyway, here’s an old story of my similar encounter with a mob front, from the early 2000s in Regina, SK, Canada (ie the middle of nowhere, last place on earth you’d expect a mob front).

my brother and I were living together while I went to uni, and he worked. we were a little drunk and wanted to get some pizza for a late dinner, but Regina mostly has terrible restaurants, and this was before the days of everything being findable on the internet, so we used to play this game where we’d go through the old school yellow pages in the physically printed fuckin’ phonebook, and pick things at random we’d never tried before. on the evening in question, we found a small print one line entry we hadn’t seen before, called “13th Ave Pizza Company Inc.”, with a local phone number and an address just a couple blocks from our place.

Immediately, we start laughing our asses off, trying to figure out where this place is, given we can’t remember ever seeing it before. and my brother goes “oh shit, I think I’ve seen that place, they don’t even have a sign, it’s beside such-and-such store and there’s always this middle aged italian guy smoking cigarettes out front, I thought it was just his house!”

so we start making mob front jokes, but without internet resources, just based on movies and shit. we did not believe it was actually a mob front, but of course we’re going to order from there.

I call them up, and after like 8 rings (no answering machine!) a dude answers with “Hey.” and then immediately starts coughing.

me: is this the pizza place.

him: *cough* oh yeah pizza. yeah. this is the pizza place.

me: do you… do delivery?

him, hand partially over the microphone on the old-school landline, with a now very noticable heavy italian accent: hey, hey I got someone here wants to order a pizza. *cough* *cough*

[indistinct noise of someone replying]

him, incredulous tone of voice: yeah they wanna know if we do delivery?

[more indistinct responses]

him: ok yeah we can deliver you a pizza. whaddya want?

me: you guys do a deluxe pizza?

him, hand over receiver again: hey! can we do a deluxe?

[indistinct mumbling]

him: yeah ok.

me: ok we’ll get a large one of those then.

him: [long pause] ok where ya live?

me, suddenly rethinking giving this obvious mobster my address, but drunk enough to still think it’s fuckin’ hilarious: [gives address]

him: *cough* *cough* oh yeah.

me: how much is it gonna be?

him, with no pause to think about it or consult the other guy he’s been getting orders from: twenny bucks? twenny bucks.

me: ok then. thanks! [hangs up]

I relay all this to my brother, and we spend then next *90 minutes* waiting for that pizza and laughing our asses about how it might actually be a mob front. keep in mind this place is a <5m walk away. and the longer it goes on the funnier it gets, as we imagine them going to a grocery story, buying ingredients, buying a stove to cook on. all sorts of outlandish things about how they’re completely unprepared to actually make a damn pizza.

finally, dude rings our apartment buzzer. I go down, and there’s this middle aged mobster stereotype out front, in front of a huuuuuuuge old black Cadillac that he has left running in the street with the door open. we live in a poor neighborhood in a poor part of the country, but this guy has utter faith that nobody gonna fuck with his car while he delivers this pizza. it is in a generic white pizza box with no branding or information on it. I hand him $20, he just nods his head and ambles back to his caddy, and I watch in amazement as he drives off.

pizza is not a mass produced pizza. it had a very weird combo of toppings on it. it was fucking DELICIOUS.

next time we were drunk enough to try it again, they were no longer in the yellow pages. 😹

for1010101010:

By Jason Ting

(via poetrylesbian)

yourheartonfire:

The battle ended not with a bang but a whimper; no glorious triumph or mad retreat but a long, slow dying as exhausted soldiers fell until the few still on their feet all were on the same side.

Not the protagonist’s side.

Desperately they tried to will themselves back up to their feet, tried to force numb fingers to close around the sword that lay in the mud beside them. But their body was done, helpless as the tired enemy soldiers picked their way closer and closer, methodically stripping bodies of any small valuables and finishing off any wounded still alive.

The protagonist prayed frantically to any god they thought might hear them. The god of war. The god of peace. The god from any temple and roadside shrine they could ever remember visiting. They wracked their brain. Dead. They’d have to pretend to be dead. They could do that. They were half there already, just slow their breathing and don’t catch anyone’s…

They turned their head and saw the god of war looking straight at them.

Like everyone else on the battlefield the god was spattered with blood, from her cropped hair to her armored boots. She could have been any soldier from any nation - except for the terrible red joy in her eyes as she beheld the devastation wrought.

“Hello, little sacrifice,” she said without moving her lips. She pointed, and as if puppeted, one of the enemy soldiers started to turn their head -

A clean boot crunched down next to the protagonist’s head. Then another, stepping carefully over them to place themselves between the god and the protagonist. The protagonist looked up at a figure straight out of their childhood.

The god of war stopped.

“Are you serious?” she sneered.

The god of the protagonist’s childhood village shrine shrugged, strumming his fingers thoughtfully over the lute in his hands. Unlike the murals, the statues, he was not dressed in fine court robes but in simple traveler clothes, his hair pulled back into a plain knot. But just as the protagonist remembered, he seemed impossibly tall. Impossibly beautiful.

“Spare this one,” the god asked, stilling those long clever hands on the strings. “Please. This one is mine.”

The god of war laughed. “You think you can challenge me, godling? Me? Here? At the height of my strength? Flee back to whatever muddy temple you escaped from and maybe I’ll let you survive, you jumped up deity of bad chords and tasteless lyrics.”

“Oh, I’m no god of anything so prevalent,” the protagonist’s god murmured humbly. “And I’m not here to challenge you, great one. Say rather, we’re here to bargain. After all, this one has something that can benefit you.”

The god shot the protagonist a look. The protagonist knew this line from the stories of their childhood.

“A song!” they blurted. “A - an epic about what happened here, about you, to make all who hear it shout and weep and… and honor your name.”

The god of war… paused. Tilted their head.

“A fitting tribute to your potency,” their god chimed in, the melody from their lute drifting into a martial fanfare. “From a god-touched bard. Surely that makes them worth more alive than dead.”

A shout went up from the other side of the field. Someone was up and swords were swinging. The god of war waved an impatient hand, already disappearing towards the fight. “Fine. But I expect my song. I’ll hold you responsible, godling. I don’t forget!”

She was gone and the god of the protagonist’s childhood turned to look down at them. “Well,” he said, reaching out a hand to pull the protagonist up. “I hope you can actually write music.”

“Seems like a priority to learn,” the protagonist said fervently, and their god of trickery and bargains laughed and hauled them away.

kitchen-light:

“I don’t really think of myself as any kind of public intellectual. I suppose, by definition, I think out loud and share thoughts with the public. But broadly, I’m disinterested in all of the ways I’ve seen that role personified, and I don’t really have an interest in reformatting that role for my own purposes, when I think I’m better served ignoring it entirely and trying to write/create/think out loud in a manner that removes any hierarchy. I’m just as interested in what a person next to me in the grocery aisle has to say about an album they recently enjoyed as I am anything I could say about that album myself. My capacity for intellect and enthusiastic curiosity is fueled, inspired, enlivened by broad public interaction. Asking people what they think, how they read or heard something differently than I did. That feels not only more useful, but more in-line with how I grew up, with a long runway for curiosity and no one shouting it down.”

— Hanif Abduraqqib, from “Loraine Williams Poetry Prize Judge Hanif Abdurraqib in Conversation with Soham Patel”, published at the Georgia Review

(via soracities)

etakeh:

Hey there,

Not sure if you've heard, but the employees at Powell's City of Books in Portland are sharing a petition to get Powell's to pay them fairly.

Seems pretty pathetic that an establishment that is considered iconic, a destination for so many visitors, won't treat their employees as a valuable part of that reputation.

Anyway, I'm sure it'd do nothing but help their cause if could give them some support?

To make sure another book store doesn't go down in flames.

ALT

https://www.change.org/p/tell-powell-s-books-workers-deserve-a-fair-contract-with-a-living-wage

neil-gaiman:

Absolutely. That’s

Sign the Petition

Tell Powell’s Books: Workers Deserve a Fair Contract with a Living Wage

Change.org

And as they stress, Please note: this is not a call for a boycott; it’s a call for signatures! Please sign and share!

humanitysworld:

(via soracities)