steel-type connie

Constance | 30mtf | Your average weirdo trans woman obsessed with prog and Pokémon

[steel-type-connie]

Hi everyone. I’m Constance, a 31-year-old transgender American.

To all my friends and loved ones who reached out to me over the phone or gave me a hug at work today: thank you. 💜 it really meant the world to me.

I left work early today and spent most of the afternoon crying and sleeping. Now I’m ready to share some thoughts.

I’m not going to lie, I’m terrified. Terrified for the future of our country and the free world, for Ukraine and Gaza. Terrified of losing access to healthcare that IS ACTIVELY saving my life, terrified of becoming the victim of a hate crime in an increasingly violent and bigoted America, or of being made to choose between being forced back into the closet or being prosecuted as a sex offender for using the ladies’ room or wearing one of my famous dresses.

I’m also furious. Furious at the feckless, cowardly politicians who have enabled his malfeasance and corruption time and again. Furious at the millions of Democrats who stayed home or voted third-party in swing states. Furious at the millions of cruel, ignorant Americans who support him, and that we all have to deal with the ramifications of a new Trump regime for years, possibly an eternity. Furious that, god damn it, I’m a productive member of society just trying to better myself and live a normal goddamn life, and I shouldn’t have to worry about the federal fucking government coming after me.

But I’m still here.

I’m promising myself I’m not giving up, even when it’s really hard to keep going on.

I’ll close with this quote from Sam Gamgee:

“It’s like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were. And sometimes you didn’t want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened?

“But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something. Even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back only they didn’t. Because they were holding on to something… That there’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo. And it’s worth fighting for.”

[steel-type-connie]

I’m playing a Sapphire nuzlocke, and am now requesting a moment of silence. Today, this little guy used Whirlwind on me and broke my heart 💔😭😭😭

[apollohour]

spin the wheel for a genre!

You are now the main character of this genre, how are you managing?

THIS IS LITERALLY MY DREAM COME TRUE AAAAAAAAAA

I was made for this role, I am the optimal main character and I am flawless

I'll try my best, make some stumbles but I'll get to a satisfying finish

I am a lucky bastard and will somehow succeed in a genre-defying way

I'm trying my hardest but what the fuck

This is not the genre for me man, I was made for greatness but what is this

I will grit my way through it, desperately trying to subvert every trope

I end up just, killing a bunch of people, I don't think I'm the mc anymore

I immediately give up and just let the dirt consume me

INSTANTLY DEAD, WHAT THE FUCK OP

My interpretation of this prompt is too complex for this small-minded poll

Results/I simply do not

Voting ended onFeb 5, 2025

[steel-type-connie]

I spun the wheel and got medical drama.

I’m transgender. My life’s already a medical drama.

[steel-type-connie]

It is all I can do not to repeat the last 1:25 of this song nonstop all night long

[ur-daily-inspiration]

[slimegargoyle]

I wrote you Oscar/Ayn Cheeto fingering fic. Pay up, Harry.

“Does he know you’re here?”

Oscar has been talking for hours, proselytizing Ayn’s work to a crowd of college women, and his voice is rough with exhaustion and arousal. Ayn likes it that way. She knew he wouldn’t go home with any of the younger ones when he can have her, the one whose novel is emblazoned across the front of his tight cotton shirt.

“Of course he knows,” she says. “I don’t lie to him. Does he like it? No. But he will leave me if he wants to leave. The value I obtain from what we’ll do here tonight, Oscar, is worth the small risk of loss.”

Oscar swallows. His jaw is strong, and she imagines him as the protagonist of her next novel, or perhaps even as the star of the film version that will make her an even larger profit. He is capitalism personified: beauty, strength… rationality. She shivers.

He holds out the Cheetos bag like an offering.

Ayn accepts it.

“I wondered which flavor you would choose. I see you’ve stayed away from the hotter varieties,” she says with a mock frown, which makes him laugh – a rough, good Objectivist sound. “I know you enjoy some small amount of debasement – as I enjoy debasing you.”

“Privately, of course.”

“Of course,” she says. “Like our money, our choices are not for others to control.”

She eats the first Cheeto, rubbing it first between her fingers.

“Strip,” she tells him, and he does.

The lubricant, when she clicks it open, smells like apples, and that scent combined with the Cheeto dust on her fingers is the perfect American smell: like warm apple pie with cheddar, pure and good and tax-free, eaten away from the prying eye of the government. Paid for by ingenuity and virtue.

Oscar moans, now face-down on the bed they are renting by the hour in support of the capitalist who runs this establishment – Ayn will no doubt buy the whole place soon enough.

She slips a lubricated orange finger into him and curves it to brush his prostate, immediately ruthless as he has no doubt come to expect.

Three fingers in and the area between his cheeks is covered in orange powder, and he is close to orgasm.

She pulls her fingers away, and he nearly whimpers.

“What do you owe me, Oscar?”

He grunts and writhes on the bed.

“Ayn…”

“What,” she snaps, “do you owe me?”

Oscar shifts on the bed and reaches for his wallet. “The only good tax is to you, ma’am,” he says.

“That’s correct. Not to the government but to me.”

He hands back two crisp $50 bills.

She slips her fingers back into him and wraps her other, equally dusty, hand around his manhood, jerking him roughly until he climaxes onto the bed.

Ayn wipes her hands on the sheets. She pockets the $100 and kisses his forehead.

“Until next week,” she says. “If you’re still amenable.” He will be, she thinks. He is nothing if not predictable.

“Thank you,” he says.

“There’s no need to thank me,” she says. “You paid me. Our transaction is complete.”

She sees a flash of disappointment in his eyes.

“Not that I didn’t enjoy myself, my dear,” she says with an arch smile, and tosses his Atlas Shrugged shirt to him as she goes. She catches his besotted smile – silly man – just before she closes the door.

[alolantrubbish]

HAVE YOU EVER SEEN A BABY GASTLY?

NOW YOU HAVE!!!!!!

[nudityandnerdery]

Happy Pride, monsterfuckers.

[taavicleric]

[steel-type-connie]

reblogging for my wife @kitquips, the greatest monsterfucker in town 💕

[virtualgirladvance]

Kinda sad I never took E in pill form because someone talked about kissing their gf while the pill melted under her tongue to steal a little bit and that was so cute and gay I got instantly jealous 🥺

[steel-type-connie]

new megadosing method unlocked

[steel-type-connie]

still totally obsessed with this absolutely bizarre song

[assumptionprime]

Dealing With It

Don't take the final panels as some sweeping statement about how I think of or address my past self. I'll still call young me a guy sometimes, especially when it's funny. But when I think about how I dealt with my feelings, how long I kept everything I felt about my body and identity pushed down out of fear or denial, I try to be kind and think of the one doing that as a scared and confused girl who had so many things working against her, from inside and outside of herself.

I've tried to tackle this particular comic idea a few times now, from different angles and such. Even drew a couple that ended up being cut, rewritten, rearranged, or redrawn into this one, but I kept feeling like I didn't have it right. I think this is pretty close.

Twitter / Bluesky / Patreon / Instagram

[filibusterfrog]

bugbear for @kitquips

[deadpsalmistsociety-deactivated]

hobbits were the peak of civilization in tolkien verse. jobs were Gardening, Stall At The Farmer’s Market, or Mailman. Shoes OFF, capris ON, 6 meals a day, high and fat as all shit. Names like Daddy Twofoot….why the fuck are we horny for elves

[english-history-trip]

[steel-type-connie]

god I wish that were me

[ao3-shenanigans]

Put it with all those cracked eggs and you’ve got a whole breakfast! You’ve likely already have a side of fruit!

[steel-type-connie]

Went out with some friends to celebrate 420/Pokemon Go Community Day, and I felt so pretty! I’ve been on hormones five months now, and I’m already loving the changes I’m seeing in my body. Maybe HRT really is magic after all.

[steel-type-connie]

a moment of silence, please, for my dearly departed Snakes on a Plane dvd, recorded dead on this 4/20 eve. All men are fated to die; you, my friend, truly lived. Godspeed old comrade

[lesbianrustcohle]

might be going to bangor maine with my gf (one of the ones who didn't break up with me 😆) and her wife to see the eclipse

and i was like please please please connie can we see the homophobic paul bunyan statue that bullies richie tozier?

[steel-type-connie]

it’s me. I’m the gf.