#Top surgery educational blog

[answersfromzestual]

Please Reblog this Post Trans Community and Allies.

I am Zestual (some know me as Shadow), and I run a blog for female to male transition and have for almost four years now.

A little about me I am a retired social worker and addictions counsellor. I have completed all surgeries (last one was just over a decade ago). I've had chest surgery, I've had phalloplasy. I actually enjoy sleuthing the internet for proper information to inform the community that phalloplasty is not bad, and not nearly as risky as many say. As long as you take care of yourself pre and post op you will have a phallis that you've dreamed of.

This includes hormone treatments, top surgeries, metoidioplasty, phalloplasty, and much much more.

If you are looking for a resource that only uses reputable sources and is a source of unbiased information on transition.

Here is the blog directory:

https://www.tumblr.com/answersfromzestual/748974533324800000/improved-blog-directory-find-what-you-need?source=share

Feel free to ask question, send in concerns or questions. I welcome all blog related questions, comments, and concerns.

-Zestual

[answersfromzestual]

Leaving this here because sometimes we need to hear nice things.

trans people i’m happy you’re alive!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i’m so glad you’re here!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! keep doing your best!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i love you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[hellishjoel]

on call

7.5k / pairing: cardiothoracic surgeon!javier peña x resident surgeon f!reader

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summary: Javier Peña - a shark of a surgeon - is the head of Cardiothoracic Surgery and you're on his service for the week. After letting you take lead on a risky surgery, you crave what else he can teach you. warnings/information:  MA 18+ (minors DNI), doctors performing surgery but no gore, medical talk (open heart surgery performed, mention of aneurysms and paralysis), both Javi and reader are surgeons, implied but unspecified age gap (Javier is an attending surgeon, reader is a resident surgeon), sex in an on call room (rooms in the hospital where the staff can catch some zzz's), swearing, size kink, praise & degradation kink with accompanied dirty talk, competency kink, (un)affectionate pet names, fingering, oral cleanup (f!receiving), oral (m!receiving), unprotected p in v, creampie reader is described having hair and wears surgical scrubs, but otherwise (I believe) no physical description, no use of y/n A/N: FYI the only knowledge about hospitals or doctors I know is from Grey's Anatomy, so expect some drama and inaccuracies! beta’d by the lovely @thetriumphantpanda! spanish assistance by the talented @undercoverpena! banner made by me!

Any doctor will tell you that smoking cigarettes has a well-documented history of negative health risks. 

Smoking can significantly increase the risk of various health problems, including cardiovascular diseases, lung cancer, respiratory issues, and, most importantly, to a surgeon, how delicate your tissue is. It shreds during stitching, falls apart in between gloved fingers, and increases the risk of infection. 

So why does Javier Peña, the Head of Cardiothoracic Surgery, smoke? 

Probably because he thinks he’s God. Galavanting through the surgical wing in his dark navy scrubs. The attending flirts with every nurse who passes his eyeline, sweet-talks his residents, and charms each patient he consults. 

Beneath all that, he was a ruthless shark of a surgeon. Driven to the point of recklessness. Stealing surgeries out from under fellow doctors, commandeering ORs, and always proving to be the smartest in the room. He knew when to bark and, more importantly, when to bite. 

Javier Peña was a piece of goddamn work. 

The operating room is the only time he’s silent. Espresso eyes narrowed on the surgical field, fingers succinct and persuasive like he’s giving the most delicate organ in the world a compelling speech: to live, to keep beating, to pump blood until it simply cannot. 

He’s impressive, really. 

Standing on the opposite side of the patient on the table, watching him work, you nearly forget how handsome he is behind his mask. If you weren’t such a great resident, you’d be more impressed by his looks than his hands. 

But his hands… they were brilliant. 

Peña was steady. Every movement is filled with confidence; they don’t stutter or flinch. He operates with wonderful dexterity, switching between both hands, neither more dominant than the other. Instrumental and graceful, like a maestro conducting a large orchestra. 

This was his stage, the surgical instruments were his props and everyone in his OR was simply an extra. He was a star; everyone knew it. But no one knew it more than you, his third-year surgical resident on his cardio service for the week. 

His years of training bleed through his expertise, and shine in a way that makes you remember why you signed up for so many years of medical school, dropped top dollar on an education to get you here, and then granted residency at one of the finest hospitals in the country. 

You were good. Peña was great. 

As his resident, you must prove nothing but useful. He’s not a natural teacher, the way his brain drives allows no one in his passenger seat. But you’re keen on declaring on cardio, and you’ve been the resident by his side for most of this year. He doesn’t need your help. He can do this all by himself, so all you can do is prove yourself useful. 

You must anticipate his needs and next move, watching him progress from step one to final completion. 

But this surgery was unexpected. Unplanned. Most heart surgeries end up being accidental, arising from complications during a routine surgery. The patient on the table before you was scheduled for a general procedure but began presenting with heart issues during the operation.

Peña performs an aortic arch replacement. He starts with a #10 blade, making an incision along the sternum to access the aortic arch. 

“Retract all this tissue,” he mutters. 

It takes you by surprise because his OR is radio silent. He talks in his head, not to you, ever. 

“Me?” 

“Are you really asking me that?” His tone twitches with irritation, but you do as he asks before he can disregard and bury your anticipation. It allows for more exposure, and he’s back to work. He cannulates the patient for CPB, working through the right atrium and then the aorta. 

“Proper placement?”

You nod before you remember he’s still staring down at the patient’s heart. “Yes.” 

Doctor Javier Peña is the commander of his OR. Which makes you all the more confused as to why he decides to put you in the driver’s seat. Or rather, the hot seat.  

“Okay, we’re going to arrest the heart using cardioplegia purposely. What’s next?”

Your mouth is going dry; it takes you a moment to find your words. You should know the answer, even without having prepared. He just makes you nervous. “We need to use myocardial protection techniques to minimize… ischemic damage?”

His eyes snap up, glaring, cold as ice. “Are you asking me? Or are you telling me?”

You force down the lump in your throat and take in a shaky breath. “Telling?” 

He cocks his eyebrow in annoyance. 

“Telling.” You say more confidently, nodding before he sighs. He wanes his options in his head before his eyes start to soften. He must feel at slight ease talking to a resident who isn’t a fucking moron. 

“Okay. You’ll deliver the cardioplegia solution and monitor its function.”

You let out a breath of relief, perhaps too big of one, because Peña smirks and tuts at your shift in breath. 

“You’re not a complete waste of space in this surgical program after all. Congrats.” 

After willing yourself to bite your tongue, you watch him proceed with the arch repair. He returns to silence as he carefully dissects the aorta, amber eyes admiring each of the strong branches like that of a great oak tree. 

“Name them.” 

Eyes meeting his over the operating table, Peña waits. He’s testing you, pushing you towards greatness or failure. He wants to see where you fall—if you’re worthy to be in his OR, opposite of him, learning under his greatness, or if you’re a waste of his time and talent. 

“You’re a third-year resident, I knew this by my second,” he grinds, “all the books I’ve seen you read in the cafeteria should have told you this. Name them.” 

He watches you, it wasn’t just in your head - the magnetic stare you can feel from across the room that makes the hair on your arms stick up. He watches, he knows you’re capable. “Not gonna get by just on looks here, Doctor.” 

Dragging your eyes away from his intense stare, you loosen your jaw and line your fingers over each strong branch, starting at the trunk of the tree. “The left subclavian artery, left common carotid artery, the innominate artery-”

Peña raises his gloved hand, seeing the gentle smear of blood along his fingertips and palm. “Stop.”

Your eyes squint heatedly, feeling your chest tighten. “I can finish, I know them-”

“Stop, damn it,” he barks louder, his eyes shifting away from yours and across the room. He wasn’t listening to you; he was listening to the heart. Doctor Peña tilts his head to the monitor, watching the heart shift its beats. “Doctor, identify the pathology.” 

You shift on your feet, the nerves throughout your arms leave you feeling shaky. Something was wrong. “The aortic arch, it shows…” Closing your eyes helps you focus, ignoring the crowd in the overhead gallery, forgetting the patient on the table just for a moment, and only listening to the beat on the monitor. 

“Pretty girl, not so smart,” he taunts with a shake of his head, the beeping on the monitor pitching louder and echoing hauntingly through your ears. You wished this room would swallow you whole, but that would be you admitting to cowardice. 

Peña takes a deep breath and looks between you and the monitor, “Alright, come on, open your eyes,” he instructs, guiding your hand off the retractor and along the heart’s wall. “What do you see?”

The commanding tone in his voice brings you out of your head and back to the patient. The room wavers and it goes silent. You don’t hear the erratic beeping of the machines, you don’t see the movement in the gallery. Doctor Peña is in front of you, calm and focused. Because he trusts that you know what’s wrong. 

The aortic wall bulged out of its normal shape. It looked weak, stretched out, thin, and nearly translucent. You see the saccular protrusion, lips parting at the discovery. 

“He’s—was there an aneurysm? He had an aneurysm?” you ask with more panic in your voice than you had hoped. It must have been during the patient’s original procedure earlier in the day before you and Doctor Peña even scrubbed in. “We can’t do a repair or a replacement of the arch. We have to stop everything--” 

“So what are we gonna do, Doctor?” He probes, piercing dark eyes on you. Suddenly, your height shrinks, and you feel only a few inches tall under his gaze. He’s so much older and wiser, and all you can do is panic. “What, you can't figure this out yourself? Four years of medical school, internship, and residency, don't fucking disappoint me now. Tell me how we fix it.”

Our brains hold endless files of knowledge. A doctor is not only supposed to keep files on how to perform a procedure but also what to do if one is horribly failing. But your brain only knows panic because until you become a brilliant surgeon, all you know is fear. 

“Should we page neuro? A-A neuro consult, his blood flow isn’t reaching his spine. He might be paralyzed.” 

Peña scoffs and shakes his head, “Hoping someone else comes to save you and fix your problems? What if I wasn’t standing here? You’re on your own, kid.” he spews, focusing his headlight back over the heart. “We don’t call neuro, the patient can’t wait that long. Come on,” he whittles away your confidence, fire in his eyes. “Come on!”  

You can’t seem to control your anger, feeling it ween down to something brittle and broken. You snap. “Doctor Peña, respectfully shut the hell up. We’re gonna fix the aneurysm sac.”

“How?” He’s quick on the whip, and it feels like your lungs might give out. “Come on, smart girl, tell me how.” 

“You’re-You’re gonna use the sac to bring blood back to the spinal cord. He’s only paralyzed because the aorta isn’t able to send blood to his spine. You replace the aorta with a Dacron graft and rebuild the aneurysm into a second aorta.” It’s spoken with half confidence, but your eyes are fiercely stubborn. 

“Its only job is to send blood to the spine,” he mutters in agreement, hands already at work. 

“Like the freeway being blocked by traffic, you take a side road. Or, in this case, you’re building the side road.” 

He momentarily pauses his hands, pretty brown eyes searching yours. He stares you down longer than anticipated, and suddenly, the air feels charged. Heat tingles up your spine, and you find yourself challenging his stare. 

You deserve to be in this OR. You’re good, but Peña is great. And you will be great once you learn more from him. Him and his stupid fucking- brilliant hands.  

“I’m not building the side road; we are,” he corrects, and he asks the scrub nurses to give him the supplies for constructing the graph. 

Finally, his cheeks perk up, and a small smirk hides under his mask. “Suction, Doctor. Prep some 6-0 of prolene. We’re gonna need it.” Peña spends the next few hours teaching you how to reroute the aneurysm and restore blood flow, allowing you to reconstruct and place the graph. 

You and Peña are a well-oiled machine. He lets you take the lead under his supervision. It’s impossible not to scream inside your head about this moment. You feel like you’re floating, no longer panicking. Your fingers weave with an indescribable amount of delicacy. It feels like braiding hair, the way your fingers know where to move, the muscle movements natural despite never having done this procedure before. 

What a fucking high. And you’ve always been such an adrenaline junkie. 

Once word got out around the hospital that Peña was doing this incredible and unexpected surgery, the gallery was all standing and fighting for room to glance out the over-viewing window. And you were there, across from him the entire time. Every surgeon in your class is sitting in the gallery, damn jealous of you.

Peña watches you close up the patient and says nothing; you were perfection. 

You huff loudly upon completion, watching as Peña wipes his forearm across the sweat on his forehead. You despise him in this moment. Thankfulness fights your need for social justice. He can’t talk to you like that, belittle you, squish whatever confidence you had left. But you’re exhausted now and don’t feel like snapping in front of half the hospital. 

“We won’t know if he has full function until he’s awake. Page neuro and tell them they have a post-consult waiting for them.” His voice drips with exhaustion, rolling out his shoulders as he speaks, and you can’t help but watch as the broad muscles move under his shirt, tan skin now visible after the medical gown has been removed. 

Trailing behind him out of the OR, you strip your surgical gloves, gown, and mask in the trash as you try to calm your adrenaline. It never stopped beating; your heart, the strong and beautiful organ that it was, never stopped pounding. You can hear it in your ears, in your pulse, even thudding excitedly against your neck. 

It beat for your ambition, it beat for Doctor Peña. He’d never see you as his equal. Hell, he’d never see anyone as his equal. But today, he taught you. And you can’t think why. He has barely done his duty all year despite working at a teaching hospital where the residents are nearly quizzed on the minute by their attendings. 

Peña didn’t think anyone was worth his time, but he saw something in you today. Despite being thankful, you can’t help the anger you feel bubbling up as he smirks at you from down the hall. 

“What the hell, Peña?” 

Oh shit. 

The head of neurosurgery stomps down the hall in his navy blue scrubs, graying hair tucked under a scrub cap decorated by EEG waveforms. His eyes are narrowed on Peña, pointed finger at the ready. 

“Who the hell do you think you are? Your patient goes into paralysis and you don’t think to page me?”

Peña merely shrugs and sets his hands on his hips. “I did think to page you. And decided not to.” 

The head of neurosurgery scoffs in disbelief, raising his voice to a shout. “You’re too fucking- cocky for your own good! I could have done an assessment, they could gotten spinal cord ischemia- and a third-year resident of all people performing that surgery? What the hell were you thinking?!”

Fuck. Now you were brought into this, and standing at the end of the hallway couldn’t be farther away. Peña was as solid as stone, heat didn’t faze him. “She had it under control. She was perfect.”

Perfect. 

Neuro seems to smirk lightly, brain doctors who love to play mind games. “You two screwin’ around in the on-call rooms, too? Is that why you let her in on that surgery a fifth year couldn’t even perform? You pull that shit again, and I’ll-”

“You’ll what?”

Peña steps closer, narrowing his eyes on the short little man whose bark was louder than his bite. 

Neuro stutters for a moment, his posture shrinking. You can’t help but smirk, almost a little lightheaded at the way he steps in to protect your credibility. Peña was a dangerous surgeon to stick around with. His arrogance, next to his skills in the OR, could be taught by accident. 

Neuro grabs onto a slipping rope and sniffs as he glances around at the onlookers in the hallway. “Don’t think I won’t tell the Chief about what happened today. You and her are on thin ice.”

Peña smirks and pats his shoulder in a futile manner, pulling loose his scrub cap and running a hand through his jet-black tresses. “She had it under control. I wouldn’t have let her do anything she couldn’t handle. And if you talk about her like that again, I’ll knock your fuckin’ teeth out.” 

Peña’s already walking away, back to the angry little man. 

Your stomach bubbles with something unfamiliar, slipping behind the elbow of the wall and taking a shaky breath. You can’t feel anything besides the buzzing in your brain and the tremble in your hands. 

Doctor Javier Peña was defending your fucking honor. 

In Javier’s eyes, any surgeon can walk into an operating room and follow the procedure's already-written steps. They can rehearse, practice, and prep all they want. But the beauty of surgery was that it was both a science and an art. 

The heart was such an intricate, unpredictable thing. Healthy one minute, broken the next. 

Javier loves to read, but only for the plot twist endings—the ones you don’t see coming—which add richness to the story and make you fall deeper into the mystery. 

That’s why he loves the heart because it isn’t easy. It’s a challenge. He also loves that hearts make him feel special because not everyone can handle operating on a heart. That’s why people choose easier specialties. Cardio was hardcore. Javier was hardcore. 

Despite how difficult a cardio surgery can be, the surgeon must be gentle. Going too fast leads to mistakes. 

As if driving on black ice, you can’t twist your wheel too fast, or you’ll spin out and crash.  He was like that during his internship, even into his residency, but he carried raw talent that no one else could compare to. He was the star of his class, a surgeon who felt like he was more than a doctor, more than a God. A preacher to the soulless, a guide to the lost. He was his patient’s light at the end of the tunnel. He saved their fucking lives. 

In his eyes, heart surgeons needed to be sharks. He never met a shark who wasn’t fierce and damn near evil. It’s critical to success; to be a shark in the water, eager to see crimson. 

You were no shark—not yet. But your drive, dedication to the art, and willingness to work with him set you apart. He knows he’s not easy. But he’s never liked easy anyway. 

Javier slowly slumps down onto the edge of an on-call bed, smacking the light switch so damn hard that he thought he broke it. The room sinks into darkness, a velvet blanket of blue from the slight night sky slipping past the blinds. 

He was exhausted after today, the hours of his day stolen by back-to-back surgeries. His back ached, and his knees were screaming at him. But the comfort of a bed wasn’t all that he craved. 

You were brilliant, purring like a kitten whenever Javier stroked your ego. A younger colleague impressed him for the first time in months. 

God, you were young. What—ten years his junior? More? 

His face fell into his hands, heat flushing into his stomach at the thought of you. 

When he’s in surgery, the heart is all he can think about. But your eyes were on him for hours, watching him, learning from him—God, the things he could teach you. 

Suddenly, the door clicks open, and light floods the room, causing Javi to drop his head and squint. 

“We need to speak, Doctor Peña,” your silken voice evokes a sense of long-lost courage.  

You’re the last person who should be in his on-call room.

He groans and stands, eyes cast on your hand still nervously caught on the door handle. “Not now.” 

“Yes, now,” your voice wavers as you click the lock and cross your arms. His eyes drag over your body, hugged by the comfort of your soft blue scrubs. He can tell it’s taking everything in your body to control your temper, as he is still technically your boss. “You can’t just belittle me in front of the entire OR. No more calling me princess, no more calling me pretty. I’m a lot more than those pathetic superficial names, and you know it.” 

Javier runs his fingers down his nose, mutters something incoherent, and plants his hands on his hips before curtly jerking his head expectantly. “I said not now.” 

“You push me, you push me around, you push me in the OR, you just don’t stop-”

He snaps. 

“I push you to be great!” His brown eyes nearly turn obsidian as he locks you in his gaze. “You’ll be a better doctor when I’m done with you. You should be thanking me.”

You scoff indignantly and throw up your hands in frustration. You’re so fucking cute when you’re upset. “Thanking you?”

“Yeah. Thanking me. My ass is on the burner because I let you perform that surgery.”

“The one not even fifth-year residents could perform?”  

Peña pauses, his jaw shifting from left to right as he glances at the room's corner. “You heard all that, huh?”

There’s a lull, one that signifies you both know that he stepped in to defend his choices in the OR; specifically defending you. He watches as you slowly nod, pulling your hand off the doorknob and crossing your arms over your chest. 

“You didn’t have to do that. Now it looks like you favor me. I’m gonna get chewed out by the other surgeons, not to mention my entire class is going to think I’m sleeping with you.” 

Pena shrugs and purses his lips. “Let ‘em.”

He watches as your lips part, taken aback by his words. After a few doe-eyed blinks from you, the room falls out of focus, and it doesn’t feel like he’s standing in the hospital anymore. 

Javi imagines you in places he shouldn’t. At his place, in his apartment. On the couch. In his bed. He thinks about how different you’d look in the light of day, your body curved by jeans or even a sundress if the weather allowed. He’d be privy to the freckles on your back and shoulders, the dips of your hips, the slope of your body he wants to memorize with his eyes closed. 

But fantasizing wasn’t enough. 

“Let ‘em,” he mutters, low, and enclosing the space between your bodies. “If they already think that, let ‘em. Fuck ‘em.” 

Your face visibly softens, and your head naturally leaning into his hand that rests on your cheek. 

“I want you to teach me,” you whisper to him. And it’s so fucking soft, so sweet dripping from your lips, almost whining with need. 

He slowly nods as the room falls silent, Javi’s opposite hand coming to your hip, flushing your body against his. 

“Okay, cariño, I’ll teach you.” 

“Teach me,” you plead again, your chest heaving with anticipation. His eyes fall to the way your breasts protrude with each breath you take in your scrubs. The emotion that stirs in the room is enough to start a full-blown hurricane. 

Javi’s hands fall to the hem of your top, and you raise your arms swiftly, so pliant to his touches. But that’s your job, to anticipate his needs. 

The sight of your skin alone is enough to make his shoulders tighten, seeing you all pretty and exposed. A knot begins to grow in his stomach. But no, you weren’t done yet. 

“Please, Doctor Peña,”

No, don’t fucking beg. 

“I want you to use your hands and teach me.” Insistently, your fingers dip into your scrub bottoms, his eyes catching the pretty black band of your panties before the material is pooled on the floor. 

You stand there with soft eyes, wide and expecting. The longer he stands here, not touching you, it damn near looks like he’s hurting your feelings. But he’s not stupid enough to leave you abandoned. 

“Fuck,” he grunts, closing the distance in a matter of a second, his hands on your hips as he yanks your body into his firm front.

The kiss is tangled and heated, desperate and needy, so different compared to the subtle dance you both played before. But now it’s so obvious the pure need that consumes you both. 

Your small fists clutch his broad shoulders, and you moan into his mouth purely at the muscle built into his toned body. He licks into your mouth, and all he can think is how fucking sweet you taste. And how your pussy probably tastes just as sweet. 

Your fingers blindly reach for the light switch, flicking them off and sinking you into midnight once again. 

Javi tuts and shakes his head, breaking the kiss as he glares down at you. “You wanna see my hands work, cielo? Then you gotta watch.” He mutters as he flicks the switch back on, guiding you into the lower bunk of the on-call beds. 

He likes the way your hand slips from his cheek to the back of his neck, fingers gentle at first before clutching at the hair on his nape. 

Javi lets out an unexpected moan into your mouth as his body slots perfectly between your legs. His rough and calloused hands explore the smooth skin of your outer thighs. He squeezes and cradles the flesh with the perfect balance of strength and delicacy, the coarse hairs of his mustache scratching your skin as he presses kisses over your exposed breasts. 

He craves every breath that you take because of him, because of his actions. Your reactions are honest and instinctual, watching as you bite down on your lip because God forbid anyone saw you sneak into his room. 

Javi’s fingers are just as you expect, expertise as he unclips your bra with ease. He snatches away the black material, your nipples sensitive to the cool air as they peak under his eyeline. 

“Christ,” he mutters, his hot mouth on them in an instant. His tongue circles them meticulously before he suckles, lifting his head and watching as your breast is tugged into his mouth. A whine slips past your lips and he feels your legs tug tighter around his waist. It’s enough to get him hard, the way you won’t let him go, because this feels way too fucking good to stop. 

“Doctor Peña-”

“Javi,” he mutters upon letting your nipple go with a pop, moving to the other and showing it just as much affection, letting his teeth gently nip at the sensitive peak. “So fuckin’ pretty, princesa,” he mutters before sucking on a spot just above your breast, a place to mark his territory. 

You gasp at the feeling of his hot mouth on your skin, goosebumps flooding to his touches. You glance down through barely-open eyes as the skin changes color, from red to a soft purple as he draws blood to the surface. His teeth marks are still there even after he leaves, a smirk on his face as he slips lower to between your legs. 

“Javi, please,” you muster up, trying to regather air in your lungs. 

He shifts to his knees, one arm straight and hand planted beside your head as he hovers over you, the other finally slipping between your legs. Your lips part as he slowly swipes two up your center, seeing what makes you tick. 

His smirk widens as your eyes roll to the back of your head, biting down on the plush of your lower lip again to conceal a moan that surely would have slipped. He spreads you, letting his thumb pads delicately circle your clit experimentally. “So fucking wet for me.” 

Just as a moan emits, his hand is clamped over your mouth. 

“Shh, shh, shh,” he degrades, your eyes wide as the circles continue achingly. “Into my hand, baby girl, don’t want anyone else to hear you. Just me.” 

Your thighs begin to tremble as his thumb experiments on you, and you realize he’s learning. Everything is about learning for him. He learns and studies the heart, now he’s studying what makes you fucking soaked for him. 

The slow circles are enough to get you going, but as he continues to pick up the pace, he realizes you need more more more. 

His thumb moves faster and surfs the edges, it makes you twitch under him. His smirk widens as two of his fingers glide up and down your wet center, your hips nudging upward with neediness. 

“Wanna hear you,” he mutters, but you’re so scared to let out a peep. In this fog, you can’t even remember if you locked the door, and now your heart is pounding against your chest, the beautiful muscle that it is. 

“Come on,” he says goadingly, pushing two fingers into your entrance. Your eyes blow wide as you let out a soft sigh into his palm, followed by a wimpy whine. “Give it to me,” he mutters as his fingers start to move through your tight heat. He’s trying to find it, working himself deeper and deeper, curling them just right and finally-

His hand clamps harder down on your mouth as you let out a loud cry, eyes shutting hard as your body writhes against him. You leak out against his fingers, hearing them squish with your arousal as he smirks. “That’s fuckin’ right, feels so good to let it out, doesn’t it? You can gimme more,” he encourages, and you don’t think you fucking can. 

But he works against you so feverishly, the combination of his thumb on your clit and fingers fucking your entrance, once the seal was broken, it was hard to contain it. 

“Fuck!” You cry out as he scissors you open, separating his fingers and forcing your entrance to work itself wider for him. The noises are obscene, soaking his fingers as he continues to plunge so deeply into you. Your hand shakily reaches up to the bicep bulging beside your head, nails sinking into his tan flesh. 

His movements have your thighs beginning to shake as he searches, still learning, looking for that one spot that has you breathless. Then it fucking sucks the air from your lungs. 

You gasp against his hand and clutch his wrist desperately, feeling him massage the sweet, spongy part inside of you that has sparks going off at the base of your spine. Your eyes begin to water at the overwhelmingness of it all, him and his stupid fucking perfect hands. 

“Javi,” you pant against his mouth, because something indescribable is building. Your back arches against his body. He doesn’t even need to look at what he’s doing, he’s so distracted in watching you unfold. 

Finally, it’s all too much, and he’s got you in the palm of his hand. You can’t help but bite into his palm as you sob against his hand, his fingers so perfect inside of you, leading you to the crescendo of your orgasm. The build leaves you lightheaded, your thighs twitching against his hips as he purrs your name. 

“Just wanna little taste,” he mutters as he finally slips his hand from your mouth, still feeling the burn of your pretty bite. His chest lands on the mattress, and you sit up a bit to allow him space. 

Javi’s arms wrap around your legs, hands now on your inner thighs as he helps spread you open. You whimper, still so sensitive that you nearly twitch away as he moves in. “Aww, come here, sweet girl. Know you taste so good, don’t you?” 

You weakly nod and sink back into the mattress, your eyes falling closed as he slowly sponges kisses to your warm inner thighs. Your hole still puckers for the loss of his fingers, a groan leaving his throat at the sight. He teasingly flicks his tongue against your twitching clit, and it’s enough to make your entire body seize. 

“So fucking sensitive,” he mutters adoringly, spreading your labia and letting his tongue flush against the juices that soak his tongue. He audibly grunts against you and works slowly to clean you up. His eyes meet yours, and he reads your wrecked face instantly. 

You let out a hesitant moan, your fingers tiredly weaving into his dark locks and nails gently scratching along his scalp. His mustache tickles your clit and you try to breath through the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

He was right, his hands were fucking perfect. Look at the way he learned your body, what it was chasing after, how it could be healed with his touch. You only with to give him the same. 

You sit up off your elbows, and he looks up at you with your arousal sitting silkily across his mustache. You cup his jaw, and he sits up with you, your mouth landing on his. You taste yourself, and it almost makes you shy, knowing Doctor Peña has tasted you. More importantly, made you cum with nothing more than his fingers. 

The opportunity to touch his body is one you didn’t realize you craved, small palms moving down his front. On instinct, he parts from your kiss and pulls his scrub top off. And God, you were right with every assumption. 

You knew he worked out, all cardio Gods adhere to the rule of working out to keep the heart muscle strong, but this was a different kind of strong. He was a Greek marble statue, all arms and toned chest and a waist you could easily tangle your legs around. 

“Jesus,” you breathe out.

Javi smirks confidently, his large hands cupping your face once more and tangling his tongue with yours. You swallow the lump in your throat and move your hand to his upper thigh, coasting your hand along until you feel his shaft protruding against his scrubs. 

“Take ‘em off,” you whisper. 

“Are you asking me or telling me?” He asks confidently, forcing a grunt out of your mouth as you tug against the hem. 

“Telling. Now off with them.” You command. 

He tuts as he stands from the mattress. “That’s my girl,” he mutters proudly, circling his thumbs along the waist of his scrubs before pushing them down, briefs included, stepping out of the material that pooled around his feet. 

You slowly raise an eyebrow, your lips parting at his size. No wonder he was so cocky. You sit at the edge of the on-call bed and he steps forward knowingly. 

“S’okay, pretty girl. Just wanna make you feel good.” 

You stubbornly shake your head and take his hands, guiding him closer as your doe-eyes meet his melting brown ones. 

“I can do it.” Wrapping a hand slowly around his length, your other hand rests on his thigh to allow some security. 

He takes in a slow breath, his eyes growing heavy as you spit along his length. 

“Fuck,” he mutters as his large hand gently comes to rest on the back of your head, fingers intertwining in your hair as he begins to clutch them possessively. 

It felt so good to be the one in charge, to be his guidance. He wants you so badly, your hot mouth wrapped around him, begging for his own release just as you were. 

You sponge kisses along his length, watching him almost in a taunting way, because you know he’s going to fall apart before you. Flatting your tongue and sticking it out, he grunts at the sight. Leaning forward, you take him in your mouth. Your tongue circles his beady tip and you get to enjoy the taste of his pre-cum on your tastebuds. 

He’s salty and musky, hours after a long surgery and it tastes divine. All man. All Javier Peña. 

Javi’s breaths are getting faster as you begin to bob your head, taking him inch by inch until you felt comfortable enough to really go for it. 

“Such a fucking- overachiever,” he grins, your nose brushing against the coarse hair along his base as your eyes clench closed, choking around him but not letting off. “Holy fuck,” he moans. Your nails sink into his thigh and he hisses, your one and only reminder for him to stay quiet. He pulls off with a pop, leaving you pouting as you stroke over his impressive length. He twitches in your hand and he’s so heavy in your palm. 

“Don’t want anyone to hear us, Peña,” you remind as you break to give kisses along his thigh where your nails created crescent moon shapes. 

“Got me so close, baby. Don’t wanna cum yet, though.” 

You pout but ultimately leave him with one last kiss to his shaft. 

Javi can’t seem to get enough of your kisses, tracing his tongue along your bottom lip as he moves you back onto the mattress once more. Your fingers glide down his body, feeling the ripples of his muscles that you hope stays engrained in your mind forever. 

Even if it’s just a one-time thing, you wouldn’t mind storing the way he makes you unfold so effortlessly, caring to learn your body and its cravings. 

“Please, Javi,” you whimper against his mouth, feeling the warmth of his body slipping between yours once again, and it feels like a home. “Need you.” 

He nods breathlessly against you, propping up the pillow behind your head. You’re not sure why it gives you butterflies, taking care of you more than just sexually. But he pats the pillow a few times nonetheless and centers it to the back of your head, not stopping until you’re smiling up at him. 

Your hand cradles his jawline, thumb gliding across his chin before his mouth is back on yours. His lips part as your gasp enters his mouth, feeling his hand guide his tip from your clit to your leaking entrance. 

“Wet all over again,” he mutters against your mouth, but acting surprised is pointless. 

“Uh huh,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth before letting him envelop you fully. 

Javier listens to you, reads your body language. He feels you grow tense as his tip nudges at your entrance, feeling your legs tighten hesitantly around his waist. 

Your hands are soft on his back, moving along the carved muscles and following their runs like wild rivers. Perhaps it is a way you calm your nerves, touching his warm skin relaxes your walls. He’s able to push onward. 

“Jesus- Javi,” you whimper, letting him sink his length fully into you until he bottoms out in one thrust that leaves him groaning. The pillow he’s laid down for you is held by his fist, the veins down his arms bulging against your head. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” his chest rumbles, Javi starting to find a rhythm as he guides his length in and out of you. 

The first couple of strokes are dragging, aching. It’s hard to breathe and your nose brushes against his neck. 

Javier is so lost in the feeling of you, your tight little cunt squeezing repeatedly around his cock. The hand not holding him up runs up the side of your body, first on the outside of your thigh, then moving upwards to squeeze your ass in his large palm. You moan into his ear, and he does it again, both of you smirking against the kiss. Then he’s on your hip, following the pretty curve before he wraps his arm on the underside of your body, cradling your shoulder. 

It’s like a seatbelt clicking in, gasping as you feel him lock you into place. Your eyes widen as you look up at him, Javi coming to rest his forehead against yours as he begins to snap his hips. 

With the change in pace, the energy becomes charged with something less delicate. It’s like you were witnessing Javier’s two-sided personality, trying to learn and teach, and now, the arrogant, cocky shark. 

The drag, once painful, now feels heavenly, the ache becoming a sedative that has you cooing for more. He’s more relentless now, hips snapping into yours that has your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Your jaw points to the ceiling, and he sees the opportunity for his lips to latch onto your neck. 

At the height of sensitivity, you feel everything. The sweat trickling down your temple, his teeth carving marks on your neck, your breasts pressed against his toned front; he’s all encapsulating. 

You whine as you squeeze around his cock, his hand on your shoulder pressing harder into your skin. He keeps you there, pounding into you, the coarse dark hair grinding against your clit so perfectly. Your core tightens, and you feel your second orgasm begin at its crest. He must be close, too, because he’s driving into you with ferocity. 

“Javi,” you cry against his neck, your nose brushing against his tousled hair, “I-I can’t.”

Javier shakes his head and moves the hand on your shoulder down between your bodies, finding your quivering clit and adding pressure to the small ministrations he starts on. His lips move to your ear, placing a kiss against the outer shell. 

“You can,” he demands in a stern tone, his hot pants fanning against your face as his aquiline nose nudges your cheekbone, “you can give me another one, cariño.”

He wants to see your star explode. See you dissolve before him into a million tiny sparks, fizzling into the night sky so he can take your beauty in fully, from inner soul to outer exterior. You were slipping into the void before him like a firework bursting. 

“Fuck, I can,” you pant, your head dropping back onto the pillow as heat slips down your spine and your vision goes dark. 

You squeeze his cock repeatedly as your orgasm surges through you, back arching off the mattress and your legs tightening around his slim waist. He can feel your pulsing clit against the pad of his thumb, feeling you gush around his dick as his balls slapping against your core grow slick with your arousal. 

From below, your vision is hazy, and he looks so fucking handsome. The surgical mask doesn’t do him justice. 

“You can come inside me,” you whisper as you lean in and nibble his earlobe, hearing him grunt at your comment. 

“Christ,” he mutters, “you have no idea what you do to me.” Javi gently tugs on your lower lip before he distracts himself with your kisses. His snapping hips begin to lose their rhythm, becoming more sloppy and erratic.

He was chasing the feeling, distracted by how perfect you were for him today.

The vein along his temple bulges as his desperate espresso eyes meet yours. All he needs to see is that little smirk of yours, and it sends him over the edge. 

His jaw drops, and a silent moan wants to slip out desperately, but somehow, he’s able to conceal it with low grunts of something that resembles your name.

You begin to feel his warmth spread through your core, making your insides fuzzy. He trembles; you both do. It feels like he comes for forever, but frankly, you don’t want it to stop. 

This feeling sits still inside you, humbles you, and centers you with the universe. Your life is hectic, and for one hour today, you’re not running around from one room to the next or getting chewed out by the senior doctors. This was the perfect stress relief; Javier Peña was a damn good break. 

His strong body collapses over yours, and any residual strength he has left is being held by a tiny string that keeps you from being crushed. 

He lays on his side, shoulder blades pressed against the cold cinderblock wall. He buries his hand in his face, and you wonder if he regrets what he’s done. 

Did he? 

“Thanks,” you whisper, reaching blindly for scrubs and accidentally tossing on his scrub pants in your orgasmic haze. 

“For what? And those are mine. You can have them in a few years when you’re an attending.” He hums, smirking as he pulls the sheets up to cover his lower half. 

You scoff and pull off the pants, switching out for your own after you clasp your bra behind your back. 

“For the lessons.” 

He watches you change, slipping your shoes back on and fixing your hair in the mirror. You try to ignore the feeling of his come slipping out of you, your legs as wobbly as a newborn calf. 

“Yeah? What did you learn?” He cocks an eyebrow and blindly reaches for a pack of cigarettes on the windowsill, propping open the window a few inches. 

Your eyes scan over him slowly as you tighten the tie on your scrub bottoms, a slow smirk gradually growing on your lips. 

“I know why you smoke.” 

Ignoring his intrigued face, you flip off the lights and leave his on-call room in a midnight blue film. The heavy door inches open, light shedding through and inching into the darkness. It clicks closed behind you just as your pager goes off, seeing that there is a message coming through for your newly reconstructed aortic arch patient. 

“Shit,” you mutter. 

The door swooshes open behind you, and Peña reappears dressed in his navy scrubs, surging past you. His shoulder knocks yours on the way out, and you can’t help but scoff. 

“Let’s go. Pick up the pace,” His voice is raspy and tired, but you keep his stride as you work your way towards the intensive care unit. 

Doctor Peña glances back over his shoulder, his smirk mirroring your own.  

Even a shark has its vices. Perhaps after tonight, you’re Javi’s. 

main masterlist | notifications blog if you enjoyed the read, commets and reblogs are super appreciated!

[felinefractious]

Ok so before I followed your blog I used to be judgemental of people who bought from breeders. But now I understand why it's fine and good. Here's something I'm wondering now: should I also stop being judgemental of people who buy breeds like Lyoki that have unavoidable health issues that cannot be bred out? I respect your opinion and think you do a good job explaining things, so I would genuinely like to hear your thoughts on this so I can learn more from you. Hope this is ok to ask

You might be asking the wrong person because I’m a hater 😂

But it really depends on the person and the circumstances, in my opinion.

For example we have a client with a Scottish Fold who later found out about the issues tied to the breed, she feels bad and doesn’t intend to get another one after he passes and stays on top of his care even though he isn’t showing any clinical symptoms yet. I don’t judge her, she made a mistake and her cat is lucky to be in the care of someone who knows what to look for and provide necessary care.

But we also have another client with a Scottish Fold who’s less than a year old and already displaying orthopedic issues… and she still got another one. I don’t know if she hasn’t researched the breed or if she has and just doesn’t care… but yeah, I judge her. Irritates the Hell outta me.

Another example is a client with an Exotic which required surgery to open up his nares and displays chronic problems associated with his facial structure… and she still got another one, from the same breeder at that. So yeah, I judge her. She also went out of state to have these cats declawed so an awful person all around.

But you have to be mindful because people often won’t respond well if you accuse them of having an animal or supporting a breed that unavoidably suffers. They love animals and they love their pet so it’s a truth they’ll resist because it contradicts the truth they thought they knew, kind of similar to how outdoor cat owners may dig their heels in because it’s a hard pill to swallow that they were neglecting a pet they loved.

So I don’t recommend going around trying to “educate” owners of these breeds because it’s more lilely to be taken as a personal attack and not be constructive, not to mention that you often don’t know someone’s circumstances.

Maybe they weren’t aware but are now and don’t plan to get another one, or maybe their cats was adopted, or maybe they inherited the cat from a deceased relative, etc.

I do judge the Hell out of breeders of these breeds, though. You’re deliberately producing animals with known issues, that’s not okay and you can take your denial of their poor health and shove it up your ass.

[answersfromzestual]

Also remember to try on things and not assume the size is right.

Also, you will need to know your leg length when buying things like jeans, (in inches).

You can get jeans from one place in one size then need two sizes bigger in another store.

Don't be afraid to dress in the style you want to.

Watch out for certain patterns of shirts and pants it can make you look bigger/smaller in problem areas.

Even cis men have love handles.

And depending on where you shop also matters.

I find clothes made by Asian clothing companies are good for smaller frames, this is really good for dress clothes.

You can always have pants hemmed if they are awesome, but too long.

I have a post about formal wear here if you'd like to see it. It lists companies for shoes and clothing specifically made for trans and non binary people.

FOR ANYONE WHO MIGHT NEED TO KNOW (cause I've told like 3 trans friends this week)

Your pants size in women's is the waist measurement of your men's pants size minus 20. 38x30 in men's becomes 18 in women's. some variation for cut and style but this is the baseline

Your shirt size in women's is one size up from your shirt size in men's. If you wear a men's small, you'll wear a women's medium

Your shoe size in women's is roughly two sizes up from your shoe size in men's. However, many men's shoes are slightly wider than women's shoes so you may have to get wide shoes in women's when you wear standard width in men's

hope this helps, and happy shape-shifting

[trans-axolotl]

i don't talk about intersex stuff on this blog as much as i used to but being intersex shapes so much of who i am and how i interact with the world. it shaped my transition (natural testosterone puberty -> getting forced onto estrogen and anti-androgens -> eventually going on testosterone but by that point i now had to get top surgery etc etc etc). i think a lot about what it was like being an intersex sex worker and the decisions i had to make about how i described myself to clients. my intersex variation is directly connected to my disabilities and me becoming a wheelchair user. being intersex influenced my passions, my interests, and my desired career path. so much of my entire approach to organizing came out of trying to find intersex community and understanding how incredibly isolated we are, when i found out i was intersex 8 years ago there were barely any resources. there is still no intersex organization in any city i have ever lived, and i only was in a room with other intersex people for the first time last year. that experience shaped how i think about things like coalition building, political education, and what community actually means when so many of us are so isolated we don't even know that others like us even exist in the world.

even before i really became involved in psych abolition organizing and before i was institutionalized for the first time, i intimately understood what medical trauma was like and the importance of having community care and healing outside of a medical system, because i'd been in rooms full of traumatized intersex people fighting to be there for each other, to find joy in the face of oppression that is completely ignored by most people. there's so many intersex people i've met who we just have that instant connection because there's so many things that we just immediately understand about each other, even if our lives are completely different and we've had totally different experiences.

i have so much love and solidarity with all the other intersex people i know and love and all the intersex people i have never met because it is so incredibly difficult to actually build and find this community in a world that systematically ignores and destroys our existence. and yet we are still here and every year i find more and more reasons for hope, these moments that make me think that maybe the next generation of intersex kids isn't going to grow up like we did.

[lycanthropyreturned]

About this wolf

I'm guessing I should probably do a small introduction to myself for this blog, now that I've decided to use tumblr. I'm Chase. I'm an alterhuman educator and someone who is nonhuman myself. I use the labels therian and non-medical lycanthropy, however I am just nonhuman in my own eyes. I am inherently wolf always, even when I have a different species' shift.

In the therian community, I am a polytherian and suntherian. This means, one, that I have several nonhuman identities. Two, I am in a constant state of shift. I am never fully human and never have been. I awakened in 2014, but I have always known I was nonhuman. I have been apart of the therian and alterhuman community on and off since then. I have watched it changed heavily and I have found my place in it as someone who wants to educate.

Now, to get more personal- as you know I'm Chase. I will go by the name Lycan time to time as well (testing that one out on the tracks, I suppose). I'm about to turn twenty-one this October. I'm an artist- I work with many different medias and I enjoy it immensely. I'm majoring in zoology and hope to either work at an accredited zoo or to be a traveling zoologist. I'm transgender FTM and on October fourth it will be two years since I have started testosterone. I hope to get top surgery soon as well. I use he/him pronouns and only those at the moment. I am very proud and open about my transgender identity, especially being in the southern US. I collect vulture-culture items and have a fascination with anything to do with death. I am also a big horror fan, but moreso psychological horror. Take that how you will.

I am very loud and proud about being nonhuman. I do not skirt over questions (they are actually my favorite thing), and I will talk about alterhumanity for far too long. As said, I've been awakened since 2014. I view myself as vaguely wolf-like, always. Imagine seeing a creature on the tree-line. It looks like a wolf but you can't exactly tell what it is. It almost has an uncanny vibe to it. That's how I view myself.

It may be obvious but my main identity is wolf- specifically the Iberian wolf. After that comes domestic dog and African wild dog. I have lesser identities as well, such as lioness, Sumatran tiger, and dragon. I do not experience these identities as much as my canine identities however. I am a psychological therian/nonhuman, besides for my Sumatran tiger identity, which is spiritual.

This blog is for me and for me alone. To talk about whatever alterhuman education, happenings, and more. If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask. I don't bite unless provoked.

[answersfromzestual]

Improved Blog Directory - Find what you need

BLOG RULES: PLEASE READ

Educational Article on the Phalloplasty Surgical Procedure -self written

Beginning testosterone, testosterone hormone therapy - Article on HRT

How to choose clothing/shoe sizes during transition - clothing on smaller feet and frames

Formal Wear - how to dress formally during transition.

Need to speak to someone? Do you need help with your legal name change? Please click here. Translifeline.org

USA Safe States for Trans-People (Constantly Updated by the website Owner)

What to Update After Legal Name Change

Hormone Replacement Therapy (HRT) Testosterone - storage, travel, and injection advice

Facial Hair Information- Tips and Tricks on How to Shave (HRT)

Frequently Asked Questions about Phalloplasty - My [personal] Experiences

How can one ejaculate after phalloplasty procedure? -ask answered.

Common Phalloplasty Misconceptions- Article

Male Mannerisms- help to know male gestures, wording, and attitude- (ask)

Testosterone Experiences That Caught Me Off Guard - (Ask)

Safe Binding and Packing - Articles Purchase Sites Also

Staying Stealth During Surgeries, Explaing Scarring - advice (ask)

Top Surgery (both ftm & mtf), procedures, and approximate costs.

Can I have top surgery and be overweight?

Keyhole Top Surgery Procdure- Outline and what qualifies you as a potential candidate

Finding a Top Surgeron in North America

So You Just Had Surgery (Top)- Advice on the best way to heal after surgery/ minimize scarring.

Is more time on the operating table really better? Operating time and infection information.

Metoidioplasty FAQ

My arm and upper thigh after about a decade after phalloplasty.

My Personal Surgeon and Their Clinic

Interview with Dr. Chen about Bottom Surgery

Penile/ Phalloplasty Erectile Devices

Expectations- Personal Advice on Setting Expectations

Urethra lengthening Procedure Information- Self written article.

Importance of Uriologist

Phalloplasty Website - Includes Parents Guide

Urethra Lengthening Procedure

General Surgical Risks

Plus Sized Surgery Risks

List of Phalloplasty Surgerons in the USA

Vaginal-Perservering Phalloplasty Procedure

Graft SiteCare for Forearm -Free Flap Phalloplasty

What Happens if Erectile Device Breaks?

Image of My Phalloplasty (wearing underwear) Educational Purposes Only

Phalloplasty Procedure Outline by GRS Montreal - (Link to Webpage)

First Ever Phalloplasty Procedure - Surgeon

Michael Dillon- Trans Pioneer (First phalloplasty patient)

How to Find Proper Sources of Information in a World of False Information/ Online Safety

Why certain terms can be hurtful. Please respect my/others views.

Tattooing over your forearm skin graft -ask

Testosterone and Hair Loss Information

If there are any other posts/ other topics I should add to this directory, please send me an ask. I will never post your username without your expressed consent in the ask.

[answersfromzestual]

I have a blog on Phalloplasty. I show my scars. I do have images of my Phalloplasty after about 12ish years of being healed, but I am wearing underwear.

I am willing to post my genitals for educational purposes.

I would need to speak to a tumblr rep beforehand to make sure I don't lose my educational blog.

For info and advice on phalloplasty or any other surgery feel free to follow me

@answersfromtheshadows

I really hope phallo scars can be as normalized as top surgery scars some day (at least in queer spaces), so people don't need to cover up their arms or be worried about wearing shorts. Same for art. I often see trans masc characters just be depicted as top surgery scars and no bulge, usually skinny too, with very little variation. Just putting some skin graft scars on a character would do so much to make having or wanting phallo feel less isolating and also help educate people. Especially with transphobes fear-mongering about your scars never healing or that the surgery just gives you a fleshtube instead of a penis, I think some more positivity is much needed.

So true!!!! We need neocock to be the hottest art trend of 2024

[enddaysengine]

Alberta's Transphobic Government

I try really really hard to keep this blog about RPGs and writing. I really do. But when someone comes for my students, fists gets thrown.

We've seen the rise of transphobic legislation in various US states, as well as in Saskatchwan and New Brunswick. Now Alberta has joined the party. Despite the premier pointing out that there are trans youth in her extended family (I don't know how close the relation is, but somewhere in her close family) and swearing to not marginalize trans youth in the last election.

And ohhhh boy oh boy, my home province is once again aiming to hit the bottom of the barrel

Here's the tl;dr (quoted from the article):

Top and bottom surgeries will be banned for minors aged 17 and under. Doctors say bottom surgeries aren't performed on youth and top surgeries are rare.

Puberty blockers and hormone therapies for gender affirmation will not be permitted for children aged 15 and under.

Youths aged 16 and 17 will be permitted to start hormone therapies for gender affirmation "as long as they are deemed mature enough" and have parental, physician and psychologist approval.

Parental notification and consent will be required for a school to alter the name or pronouns of any child under age 15. Students who are 16 or 17 won't need permission but schools will need to let their parents know first.

Parents will have to "opt-in" their children every time a teacher plans to teach about gender identity, sexual orientation or sexuality. Alberta law currently requires parental notification and gives them the option to opt students out.

All third-party teaching materials on gender identity, sexual orientation or sexuality will need to be approved in advance by the education ministry.

Transgender women will be banned from competing in women's sports leagues. Smith said the government will work with leagues to set up coed or gender-neutral divisions for sports.

This goes well beyond what SK and NB have passed. It violates the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms, but Smith doesn't care and will likely use the Notwithstanding Clause to bypass it. Parents, medical professionals, and educators have all reacted with justified outrage. It is clear to those of us who care about youth that these policies will kill.

There is flattly no way in hell I will be deadnaming my students. For a government that says they want to remove red tape and bureaucracy, making parents opt-in to every single lesson involving anything other than heteronormativity sure seems like trying to use red tap to make teaching anything other than their ideology impossible.

What can you do to help?

If you are in Alberta, raise holy hell. Call your MLA, show up at the protests, add your voice to the chorus screaming that we don't want this.

If you are in Canada, there are also demonstrations in support of trans youth going on across the country. Let your MP know as well.

If you aren't from Canada, solidarity and visibility help! We've all seen how this shit has gone down in Florida and elsewhere. We need to stand together to stop this tide.

If you have business ties to Alberta and are able to divist them, please let the Alberta government know you are planning to do so if these proposals become law

Donate to 2SLGBTQ+ organizations in Alberta.

This is not the content I want to go viral from me... but if I have to choose one, make it this one. Please help us proect our kids.

[tainted-sweet-meats]

also got top surgery and I feel like a whole different person. thanks to @rudrakitty and my husband rotating shifts to watch me and help me. I was advised to not lay in bed all day so Im sitting but man if it wasn't for pain killers rn. they got me on antibiotics and oxy. And tbh its hard to sleep. I kept my hubs up till like 3 am just shuffling while he sleeps ont he coach..poor thing Im a hugger so we both don't trust the whole sleeping in bed while I got my drain tubes on. Any hoots when I finish heal Im making a blog post on my journal on my website with CW of course and pics along with all the information I have and insurance I use to get top surgery for free with an amazing doctor and nurse staff. I swear I felt so cared for by Dr. Kathy Rumer team. So many are asking me along with in my discord how to go about this. I'll be honest getting t and doing this I was lost but I did everything by researching and boom it was easy. I was nervous but hey you dont learn till you try. Welp now you won't have to I'll give you the knowledge I know. I'll slowly flesh everything out then post in one go. Keep in mind there will be blurred boob pics of pre-op and cw post-op cause of blood drains. But this is all educational so Please be respectful to my trans body when I do, Im posting this for you guys to learn not for other thangs <M<; kk love you guys just keeping you updated

[lokavisi]

*~Housekeeping~*

Hail and welcome! The intro blurb at the top of the page tells you a bit about me but I wanted to get a little more in depth about the blog. My goal is to make my little corner of the internet here as safe and welcoming as possible, so I wanted to make some disclosures and set some boundaries. (Please read, especially for personal policy regarding minors!)

-First and foremost, Heathenry is for everyone. No matter your race, gender, sexuality, age, or ability. Fascism has no place here or anywhere else in Heathenry. I will not tolerate any such ideologies being spread here.

-A newly ignited passion of mine is fostering future generations of Pagans and Heathens. For that reason, I am accepting of minors interacting with this blog with some caveats. These are to protect ourselves and foster healthy boundaries.

1. Please limit interactions to likes, public comments, reblogs, or asks; no private messages. This keeps us both accountable for the appropriateness and intent of our interaction. I do not have the option for anonymous questions for this reason (and to generally try to deter trolls). I ask that these interactions stay related the topic of the post being responded to, working with Loki, or things relating to Heathenry/my other religious identifiers. I do not want anyone to ever question my intentions in wanting to educate you or other youth, nor do I want to put your safety in jeopardy.

2. Speaking of safety, the only time I will respond to private messages from minors is for questions regarding gender transition. As a trans person, I fully understand the need to discuss those things more discretely if it is not safe for you to do so publicly. I understand how challenging it can be to find safe adults and accurate information about the process. I am here to educate as best I can. If you have questions about the transition process, I will do my best to help you get accurate information. Please understand, however, that I am not a therapist and I will not discuss personal details with you. This is for our safety. The most I will ever share about my personal life is whatever is relevant to getting you accurate information (such as the process I went through to change my name or pursue surgeries).

-Related to the previous point, I will do my best moving forward to either tag and/or indicate at the top of my posts what may not be suitable for minors. (This will be based more on content than things like language. I figure if you're old enough to be online, you're probably familiar with a few choice words.)

-A lot of what I share on here is related to my UPG (unverified personal gnosis), practices, and beliefs. It is absolutely ok if your UPG or beliefs do not align with mine. However, I will not tolerate anyone trying to discredit my, or anyone else's, experiences. Keep all discussion civil and respectful. I hate doing it, but I will block people if harassment and the like becomes a continual problem.

-Life is too short to have a stick up your butt about comics and movies that people enjoy, so we respect Marvel fans around here. This does not mean that we are equating the Gods to Marvel's interpretations of Them, nor are we equating Tom Hiddleston with Loki. I am under no delusions here. That said, some people came to these Gods through Marvel material and it is something that can be enjoyed in and of itself. I have made a few posts about how the Gods can sometimes sneak Their way into that stuff and that's just fun (for me, at least) to see. Sometimes Thor likes watching those movies with me. I found watching the Loki series to be a surprisingly devotional act because of the character arcs and material correlating with a lot of the work I've done with Loki. None of this has to be your jam. Just don't be a jerk about it. (Also, if I use a Tom-Loki gif as a reaction or to indicate a vibe Loki's giving me, that's all it is. No need to get worked up.)

Other general notes:

-I tend to refer to Loki with He/They pronouns because of how They generally present around me. Whatever pronouns you use to refer to Loki are absolutely fine.

-If you are curious, the meaning behind the name Lokavisi and my choice to use it can be found here.

-Loki and Their family tend to get the most of my attention, but I have had experiences with and some connection to other deities in the Norse pantheon and beyond. I am also looking to "shake hands" with more deities and spirits for my own edification and oracular practices. (If I'm going to be sharing messages from Someone, I feel like it helps to know Them at least a little.)

-My main blog is @bifuriouslyqueer. So if you see that blog following you or liking your posts, it's me. If you care to follow (and it is absolutely ok if you don't), that's a little more DNI for minors. It is full of my pop culture hyperfixations, mental health and political woes, and general trash memes.

-Banner art is "Loki's Children" by AnywhereButReality on DeviantArt. Profile pic art is from @jessiarts

-If you would like a tarot, rune, or oracle card reading, please visit my Ko-Fi! If cost is a barrier for you, please do not hesitate to reach out so we can work something out! While I am broke and need money, I don't want to be inaccessible.

Alright, enjoy the blog!

[answersfromzestual]

Do you mind me answering?

They do not do both surgeries at the same time because there are usually steps between chest surgery and the actual phalloplasty procedure. And it ups complications due to the time you are under anesthesia goes up. This can actually be harmful to you. The longer you are under anesthesia, the more likely you are to have side effects of it, and even can lead to death. It also affects your healing process because of the amount of stress your body would be under trying to heal both wounds at the same time. It may not produce the best results you could get.

My Phalloplasty Procedure alone was about 7 hours in the operating room.

Then, usually, after top surgery, they ask you to have a hysterectomy, which my clinic, for example, didn't do. Some clinics would rather you use an OBGYN for the hysterectomy. (This isn't to say another clinic would not perform the procedure).

But bottom line I feel is the time you would be under anesthesia and the stress on your body healing both injuries would be a lot on your body, too much to have the best results you could.

I don't want to be a sourpuss, I felt the same when I was where you are in transition.

And about using the extra tissue from your chest, it may not be as sensitive as your forearm, for example. Surgeons usually use tissue for your phallis that is extremely sensitive (like your forearm or lower back). This was just what my surgeon told me about which tissue he uses. For example, my surgeon only used forearm skin for the creation of the phallis.

I don't mean this to be rude, I just wasn't sure if you wanted an actual answer or not. If not, I apologize.

If you'd like to see some articles and more info on all the procedures, feel free to follow me.

Text to speech: Why don’t they offer top surgery and a phalloplasty at the same time where they use the breast tissue instead of limb tissue, {redacted}, hush,  and construct the penis out of that. Why not though?

[queer-advice-hotline]

Hello Queer-Advice-Hotline,

Thanks for all that you do! Just found this blog and it’s been really educating and helping.

I have a question. I’m nearly 34. Last year I started on a journey of getting to know myself and what I liked, as I spent a lot of my adult life dealing with trauma and resulting codependency issues. I was very femme, the last thing I thought I’d be questioning when I started this was my gender.

I always wondered to wear male clothing and decided one day to explore that urge. (The men’s aisle at old navy is a gateway drug.) I started using they/them and a different name. (The name was to cut ties to my trauma as well as express my gender.) I kept wearing more and more men’s clothing, and that’s all I wear at work and my home. It feels right to me. I am out as non-binary with people, but friends in my life have no clue I dress like a man, sometimes use the “he” pronoun and bind.

I now use he/they. I don’t define myself as a trans man though. I thought for a little while I might be, but have no interest in hormones or surgery. I bind my chest mostly in private and love how it looks and feels, but I think I’d feel more dysphoric without my top half then with them. I like my top half and it’d feel weird to be without it. I also love my bottom half and wouldn’t want to get rid of that either. I look at myself in the mirror sometimes and think “fuck I love my body”. About the only thing I’m super dysphoric about is my voice. I wish it were much lower.

I like the way I see physically look now with just the outside appearance alteration: the masc clothing, short hair, etc. I do often have anxiety about being out to people about my gender. I’m out to my friends as non-binary, but most of they think I’m still femme. At work I dress masc, at home alone, and at one comic store I go to. Most others don’t know. I’m slowly being more open about who I am (and feel great joy in that) but am not fully out. I know that this is because I have a lot of internalized transphobia because of my evangelical upbringing and I’m working through it. I fear rejection. I fear judgement. I worry my change in my identity is because of my trauma, or some head injuries I had in recent years. I don’t feel secure in my place at the queer table. How do you work through those fears? I identify currently as genderqueer trans-masc. I am not sure if I’m allowed to use the terms “transmasc” or the pronoun he”. But I have no interest in HRT or surgery. I worry I’m misappropriating an identity. Is is ok to define myself as genderqueer transmasc and not want to physically transition? Am I trans enough, I suppose is ultimately the question.

Thank you for the help. I’m a really shy person, don’t know anyone in the queer community, and wasn’t sure who to ask.

Surgery, hormones, and any other sort of physical transition are not required to be trans. You can absolutely define yourself as trans masc, genderqueer, or even as a trans man if you wanted to. It’s not misusing the label at all.

You would be trans enough even if you wore dresses, had long hair, and used she/her pronouns. You are trans enough as you are, always.

[pinheadspinhead]

Introduction Post :)

Hello!! Please call me X. I'm a trans gay man and pretty much only attracted to transmascs. My pronouns are he/him. I've been on T since 2019 and got top surgery in 2024.

I post usually about tying someone up and sucking dick. I post quite a bit about cnc and use the f slur pretty commonly, but I will tag everything in case anyone doesn't want to see it. (list of tags under the cut)

I am also in a committed monogamous relationship, so I will not answer dms

DNI + List of kinks and tags below :^)

DNI

Cis people please do not interact.

Anyone I see in my notifications who does not have an age over 18 in their bio or an introduction post will be blocked. Blogs that say "adult/over 18/etc." will be blocked. Blogs that say "20s" will also be blocked. ("30s" and up are fine tbh. don't really expect a teenager to lie abt being that old).

I've gotten a few systems in my notifications. I would at least like the host's age or the alters' running the accounts ages in the bio as well as alters that are minors not interacting when possible.

Minors are welcome to browse, I think it's fine to look at porn in safe and responsible ways, but please DO NOT like or reblog my posts, send me asks or dms, or follow this blog. You are welcome to view my blog as long as you do not appear in my notifications. If you do view my blog, I encourage you to seek out resources like contraceptives and education on things like aftercare and BDSM safety. Also, please keep in mind that this is blog is not a good representation of sex.

Blogs centered around non-sexual age regression please don't interact. No hate, I would just prefer not to see littles in my porn notifications.

Men DNI blogs. I am a man and I would really appreciate not being put on sapphic blogs as a trans man, thank you.

Harry Potter fans stay away from me your favourite author wants me dead or in prison and i think you're ridiculous for caring more about books than people. I will block you without even thinking about it.

People who openly post about ED or SH. Please seek help. The communities you are in are very harmful to yourself and others and they are absolutely not indicative of any sort of popular beliefs. This content is extremely triggering and I absolutely will not tolerate it if I see it.

There are also certain kinks and fetishes that make me a little uncomfortable and I would appreciate if blogs centered around those fetishes do not interact with me. These include:

Ageplay

DDLG

Feederism

Chasers

Detransition/Fakeboy

Dom men who post extensively about violent fantasies involving women

(This list may grow over time)

An Incomplete list of kinks I enjoy:

Bondage/Rope Play/Gags

Monsterfucking & Vampires

Priests lol

Pirates, Cowboys, Period Clothes

Mugging/Kidnapping Fantasies

Choking/Impact Play

CNC

Degrading

Threesomes/Orgies/Gangbangs/Spitroasts

Intoxication

Free Use

Dry Humping

Exhibitionism

Knifeplay

Tags

I tag everything with the same few generic tags. I only really tag for the sake of content warnings in case there's something someone doesn't want to see. I don't tag my content warnings without "ftm" in front of them because I do not want cis people interacting with me.

Ftm Intox

Ftm Cnc

Ftm Free Use

F slur

Ftm Knifeplay

That's all for now :) I'll update this post as I think of more things :)

[thefoxinator]

By not voting, that's essentially saying that you'd be willing to accept a second Trump term where everyone in the LGBTQA+ community gets forced back into the closet, if not outright underground.

Transgender individuals in particular would face being labeled "pornographic."

But hey, you likely personally wouldn't be affected by that, so why would you care?

….no that totally wouldn’t personally affect me. Anyway anyone want an update on my top surgery results?

Also that’s not how it works ALSO “if trump gets elected this terrible thing will happen” and you’re going to let it happen? You only show up in the poll booths? That’s more of a self report than anything else. Electoral politics won’t save queer people. They won’t save trans people. And they won’t save you.

I would educate yourself. Blogs like @decolonize-solidarity have graciously put so much information about all this on a silver platter, despite it being EXHAUSTING to educate people like you, anon.

Not a vote isn’t a vote for Trump, actually. It’s Not a vote at all.