#lately when I get chest dysphoria

[soupacool]

please keep photoshopping massive knockers on men it helps me rock my own masculine tits

[maddestmewmew]

i know i talk about my boobs an abnormal amount but can i say how awful it is my dysphorias back. girl we have j size boobies. that is small boob behavior we NEED to be comfy w those babies bc that is our Only Option

[love44lew]

just like him . max verstappen

彡driver max verstappen

彡genre drunk!max verstappen x gn!reader, angst to fluff

彡summary max comes home drunk after a long night of partying and celebrating another wdc

၊၊||၊ this story has been haunting me for weeks now and im always busy with school or just dont have motivation to write but im glad to finally get the last of it on this sunday evening. enjoy and ty for reading!! ၊၊||၊

彡warnings alcohol, mentions of child abuse

———————————🦈———————————

max stumbles into the door after too damn long trying to get that stupid lock. why was the damn door locked anyway? he roughly plops down on the floor, kicking his shoes off and tossing them to the side without any second thought about them. he’s woozy and his head feels like its full of water and he can barely stand up straight—it was a long night of drinking and celebrating securing the drivers championship.

you would’ve went, but you weren’t feeling too well and even though max had insisted to stay home with you, you refused to let him miss out on celebrating such an achievement; hesitantly he went.

after a long 3 hours of drinking, dancing, partying him and his father had a long talk. a deep one, about his childhood. once again he’d taken credit for max’s achievements, once again telling max he should be grateful for the years of ‘tough parenting’. still the same stupid ass excuse he had to brag about how beating your kids made them world champions, what a way to ruin a night.

max stumbled into the kitchen, the house being left dimly lit since you’d expected him to come home late.

his head—the pounding became unbearable. ever since that talk with him the effects of the alcohol we’re hitting him harder then they should’ve for the amount he drank. he wasn’t drugged, was he? maybe his fathers words is what drugged him—but instead of sending him into a high, they sent him into a deep dysphoria.

he bent over, resting his temple on the cold marble of the island—the sensation easing his dizziness.

water, he needs water. but he couldn’t move from the position he was now.

“max..?” you called from up the stairs.

he just groaned in response

you smiled to yourself as you scurried down the stairs, knowing how he gets when he’s drunk. you were feeling much better than you were before, after throwing up and taking a nap, of course. “maxie,” the nickname rolled sweetly off your tongue, your tone much more comforting and soft. you turned the corner, spotting his tall figure hunched over the countertop his leg bouncing uncontrollably.

“hey, lets get you upstairs, hm?” you rubbed circles on his back as you picked up his arm and swung it over your shoulders. he’s heavy to say the least, so it wasn’t easy getting him up.

“y/n” max mumbled, stopping you at the base of the steps and using your shoulders to help him sit on them.

“yes max”

in your head, you celebrated being able to rest your shoulders for a couple minutes before helping him upstairs

“can you just be honest with me for one second here” his voice was hoarse and low, he could barely make eye contact with you. you can already understand this was a bad trip.

“always, love” your brows furrowed, his tone rising concern within you. there was a pause before he cleared his throat and his ocean blue orbs, that now appeared an almost dark grey in this lighting.

“do you think i’ll turn out like him” he almost whispered, just enough so you can hear him semi-clearly. the words stabbed you in the chest, where could he be getting these thoughts from. and whose ‘him’?

“him..?” you repeated, tilting your head to the side “max what are you talking about?”

“my dad” his eyes finally locked with yours “do you think im gonna turn out like him? what if the day comes where i would try to hurt you, if its by words or trying to put my hands on you? i never want to do that, i dont want that—thats not love. what we have, i feel this is love, but what if it wont be anymore, because of me?..” his eyes became sad, desperate and ashamed with himself, disappointed in himself for something he’s never done but the thought that he could possibly even try to hurt you makes him want to just curl up in a ball and cry.

“max-“ you reached a comforting hand out to him, just for him to reject it.

“no— i dont want to hurt you. you should go and find another guy who wouldn’t ever do that to you. im just like my fuckin dad, i even see his face in the mirror just to remind me of the doom im destined to” he hunches over, buring his face in his hands.

at this point you didnt even know what to say. you obviously are aware of the complex relationship max has with his father but he never never voiced these thoughts to you before, especially when hes drunk. hes all silly and quiet and sleepy usually, something must’ve happened to make him like this. everyone has their fears of inheriting their parents bad characteristics, max has told you about stuff he tries to do differently than him, but you never imagined it being this bad.

max is such a kind soul, he couldn’t even kill a spider. he has no reason to rage if he’s already taking all his frustrations out on track. outside the car he’s a calm dude, you’ve never heard him yell or be nasty to his engineers when he wasn’t on track. of course he has his occasional attitude towards the authority but never further than that. every time he acted out, hes worked hard to fix whatever caused him to do so.

the best thing you could do is just wait for him to finish talking so you could voice your thoughts, which you did so. you sat next to him, resting your head on his shoulder until he calmed town and flushed out all the words he had pent up in his brain. the two of you sat as his sobs filled the silence between you. saying something right away didnt feel like the right move anyway.

“you dont have to be him. youre not gonna be him because youre already better than him. max, youre still in your 20s and look all that you’ve accomplished—stuff he couldn’t dream to do in his entire life. you dont have a reason to end up like him because youre not a fuckin failure.” it might have been a little too much to talk so harshly about his dad, because its his dad. but whatever he did or said to him before he arrived home has caused the love of your life hysterical and paranoid for the future, so right now, he didn’t deserve the babying he receives from everyone around him and max. his sobs had calmed down at this point, the pause was enough for you to continue.

“and about me— i dont want anyone else. of course we’ll have our disagreements, we’ll piss each other off eventually. we’ll exchange words we dont mean and then we’ll immediately regret it after, thats just how things are. but id rather do that with you than another person because i’ll only ever want you. we’re in this together baby—and as long as i have you, theres always something to fight for because you’re worth fighting for. i made that decision the day i fell in love with you, and i never looked back since.” your heart, chest, and throat burned with every word that left your mouth. like confessing your love wasn’t hard enough the first time, here you are pouring it all out again. you keep your heart so sacred, all the world can fight for it and you’d still be stuck on that person you gave it all to. that person being max.

“i can only tell you how i feel, i cant convince you to think otherwise. but remember, i gave YOU my everything because thats the only thing i have to offer. i chose you because i see something in you that nobody else saw before, or sometimes dont even see now—“ not even your own father

“and now its my job to help you see those things within yourself.” your soft hands cupped his face so the two of you could fix on one another once again.

“just think about that”

his saddened eyes widened, like you had planted something in his mind. he melted into your touch, his eyes closing and his cheeks growing a deeper rose than before.

“i love you so much, i dont deserve you” he kissed your hands while mumbling his love for you.

“i love you too, but i disagree” you leaned in closer and kissed the bridge of his nose. he just sighed softly, he didnt feel like staring another debate on who loves who more. maybe in the morning.

max wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in closer and resting his head on your chest. you wrapped your arms around him, planting a soft kiss on the top of his head. the two of you sat in silence, enveloping in one anothers warmth. his home was right here, with you.

“im thirsty” max mumbles, breaking the silence between you two. you chuckled silently. “okay baby” you helped him stand up and up the stairs, leading him to your room. max threw himself onto the bed. you turned around to fetch some water but a tired hand tugged your wrist.

“dont go” he nuzzled into your palm, his lips brushing over your fingers. “im not going anywhere honey, im just getting water for you” max whined in protest, his face was flushed into your hand like it was his only source of warmth— tingles fluttered your heart at the sight.

“you need water, do you want to be hungover tomorrow?” you leaned on your hip and narrowed your eyes curiously.

“no i need you, now come here im cold” he pouts, tugging your hand harder causing you to fall onto the bed with a cushioned thud. before you could even react, a needy, pouty max had already latched his body onto yours tightly, nuzzling into your shoulder and allowing the scent of his lover consume his senses.

you sighed softly, the messiness of his hair and the way his arms hug your body made you not want to move. your body relaxed in his arms as max’s soft snores muffled into the cloth of your (his) sweater. you raked your fingers through his soft blonde locks until you too eventually fell into your own sleep. the two of you tangled in each other, sleeping peacefully knowing that you both will always have a shoulder to lean on.

[dervampireprince]

[dni minors, dni blogs that have no 18+ age listed in their bio] astarion x trans man! reader/tav /// smut, dysphoria comfort, reader's chest is un-described and untouched, reader has a vulva, soft dom top astarion, bottom reader

whenever there's a day when you feel off, wrong, you're hyper aware of your body and how it doesn't feel right to you, he'll notice. perhaps not at first, but the way your posture is different, the way you reject and shy away from his touch, don't flush or scowl at his flirting.

it's late when he decides he has to ask you what's wrong, him not being used to having others to care about, to worry for.

"have i done something wrong?" his voice is quiet and yet it startles you from your thoughts.

"no? no, of course no," guilt festers in you. "i'm sorry."

"there's no need to apologise, darling. as i've been told by someone quite dear to me, there's nothing wrong with not wanting to be touched."

"it's not that. i do, i," you breathe. "i want you to touch me quite badly."

"then i don't understand."

his fingers twitch, wanting to reach for you as your eyes flicker to the mirror across the room.

"when you look at me... what do you see? that is, i mean... you could have anyone you wanted, and i know what you'll say to that. and i believe you. that you want me. i just, sometimes it's hard thinking about the men you've been with, hells just men in general, and then... how they compare to... me. because sometimes, sometimes it's hard to see myself as... as..."

you trail off, aware of your shaking breath, aware of the wetness on your eyelashes, aware that you want to bury yourself against him but find yourself scared.

just as you start to wonder if you've ruined something, his hands hover by your face, not touching, waiting. and so you nod, and his he cups his palms against your cheeks, tilting your head to look at him.

"my sweet boy."

those words and his voice make everything the smallest bit better, you hold back a sob and place your head into the crook of his neck. him calling you a boy both soothing and comforting, but also always slightly arouses you.

"you know i love you? exactly as you are, because of who you are."

"i know."

he raises one of your hands to his lips and kisses it.

"would you let me show you?"

he's not used to being so careful with someone else, not that he hasn't been gentle before but it's never been out of his own desire to cherish the person he's with. but perhaps he can understand, in his own way, feeling disconnected to your own body.

"you're such a handsome man, such a pretty boy. and aren't i ever so lucky. when i was a child i would fantasize about some dashing prince, but i could have never imagined i'd find one like you. you're far lovelier than any dream. you're real. and for some unknown reason managed to see something good in me. you're the most incredible person i've ever met, and i'm going to help you see that."

your shirt stays on if you wish it, as much as he loves every inch of your body, and will continue to regardless of if it stays as it is, or if parts of it change. but he wants you to be comfortable.

he kisses you, trailing down from your lips to your neck, never meaning to get carried away there but always does. you find it hard to mind though as he kisses, teeth nipping but not drinking, leaving faint little marks. he likes leaving marks on you, a reminder that you're here, that you're proud to be with him.

his hands slide down your sides, over your stomach, they pull at the laces of your trousers, sliding them off you legs, leaving your bottom half bare, waiting for his attention.

you flush as he maintains eye contact with you as he slides a hand under your ankle, then down your leg as his mouth moves with it, kissing you calf, next to your knee, up your thigh. and if there's more to grab there, he reveals in it, adoring any curves, your softness. he pauses when he reaches the top of your thigh and chuckles, smirks to himself

"such a sensitive boy, i haven't even touched you anywhere intimate yet and look," you gasped as he glides a couple of fingers between your folds and then holds them up. "already wet for me."

he slides his fingers back against you, teasing around you before thrusting in, curling them upwards as he lowers his head.

"we can'tbe neglecting your cock can we darling? it's straining so hard. and just because it looks different than mine, doesn't make it less of a cock, does it?"

he stays blinking up at you until he realise he wants an answer and you shake your head no.

"good boy, that's right," he purrs and you want to feel condescended, but you just whine, flushing hot, wanting to be good for him, wanting to be his good boy, wanting him to call you that again. "and what shall we do with your pretty cock? shall i suck you off?"

you nod your head, eyes pleading with him and he laughs, not to make fun of you, but because your neediness, your eagerness for him endears him.

"very well then," his lips close around your cock, sucking and suctioning while his fingers continue to stroke inside you, your hands slip into his hair and tug accidentally and he moans around you.

"cheeky boy," he pulls back. "do you wish to come like this or..."

"fuck me," you say, and then. "please? please, astarion, i need you."

astarion always flushes when you tell him you need him. he slides up your body, "i suppose i shouldn't tease, you've been deprived of my touch all week, my poor boy thinking he didn't deserve this. don't worry, i'll fuck you like need."

his cock slips between you, holding you close, kissing your neck, hands stroking your waist as he pushes inside of you,

"that's it, such a good boy. always taking me so well," he loses control of his voice as he fucks you, murmuring praises as his hips snap against you, letting you tug him up to kiss you, pressing one of your hands down into the pillow so he can hold it.

he tells you that you're a good as you both come, he tells you that you're a good boy as you twitch, oversensitive, as he cleans you off, and he tells you that you're a good boy as you drift off in his arms.

[sommerregenjuniluft]

@jegulus-microfic june 1st — pride — 1804words — nsfw! aka regulus purchases something and james is fortunate enough to unpack for @itmeanssungod & @veryinnovative

It’s been a while since Regulus started toying with the idea of trying out packing for himself. 

He doesn’t have too much dysphoria during sex anymore—which he is grateful for—since he’s completely healed from top surgery and especially with partners he knows. 

But lately Regulus has found out it feels really fucking good to just- keep the strap on afterwards. Just haphazardly yank on his boxer briefs once they’re done, purple tip peeking out over the top of the hem, and sex drunkenly stumble into the kitchen to get himself a gatorade from the fridge. Evan prefers water, which they keep in the room, and Barty prefers to crank open a window and smoke one.

It’s empowering in a way, he guesses. He’s still living with his brother and James is over more times than he is not. Just liking the company of a busy house full of people he reasons with a shrug every time the topic comes up. Missing the old days in a dorm.

Regulus is pretty sure there’s truth in that statement but he’s also not stupid and convincing himself he’s only imagining the looks James is sending his way has only worked for so long. It’s near ridiculous to think he’s been oblivious to it for so long.

But Regulus isn’t anymore because when he’d gone to get his gatorade James had, to spell it out politely, nearly died from choking on his pasta salad when he’d looked up from his phone and at Regulus.

So with the arrival of pride Regulus had saved up and treated himself with the purchase of a flaccid strap on. It matches his skin colour nearly perfectly, the head showing from under the foreskin. It’s got a nice feel to it, it’s proportionate to his body when Regulus looks at himself in the mirror and it’s comfortable where it’s hanging between his legs and resting in his underwear when he puts his clothes back on. It’s a little ridiculous but he knows it’s important so Regulus allows himself to tear up about it a little. About how bone deep good it makes him feel about himself.

He’s in grey joggers and a form fitting black T-shirt. Regulus turns to the side in front of the mirror, cups himself through the soft material of his pants. Barely audible he can hear James humming to himself in the kitchen. Regulus smirks.

“James,” Regulus greets as he enters the kitchen.

“Oh, hi, Reg,” James says, lifting from over the stove and taking out his airpods from where he was bobbing his head to the music playing on them. 

Regulus plops himself on a free spot on the counter and picks up a bottle of sauce he doesn’t recognise to busy himself with reading the label. “What are you cooking?”

James hums and proceeds to explain to him where he found the recipe on social media and what health benefits it has and how good it’s going to taste.

Regulus half listens and half plots internally how he’s going to subtly make James aware of his newest possession.

“Can I do something to help?”

“Err,” James blinks for a moment, then he lets out a chuckle, “The Regulus Black offering to help in the kitchen on his own volition? How much money do you need?”

Regulus rolls his eyes and swats him in the chest. “I was very much being sincere, for your information. But I can go of course, if my presence is not needed,” he says and makes to stand up.

“No no,” James replies quickly, raising his palms in a pacifying manner. They’re closer now and Regulus can see where James�� brain has momentarily paused its task of persuading Regulus to stay in favour of simply staring at him. His curls, his eyes, his lips. 

Regulus raises his eyebrows.

“You– ehm,” James starts, swallowing, “You caaaan– set the table?”

“Are you asking or telling?” Regulus inquires, taking another half step closer and delighting in the small intake of breath from James.

“Telling,” James answers. “Please.”

Regulus nods, biting back a smirk, and steps around James to get cutlers.

After he’s set those out he waits for James to go back to stirring the pasta that’s cooking on one of the back burners, right underneath the shelf with the plates. 

Regulus comes up from behind and sets a hand on James’ hip. “Pardon,” he murmurs and then stretches up on his toes, pressing his crotch right into James’ backside.

It has its desired effect immediately.

James’ breath hitches and in the next second he’s making an aborted noise deep in his throat.

Regulus’ lips twitch upwards at the corners, “Something wrong?”

James shakes his head, his voice cracking on the m-mh he makes, not opening his mouth. His hand is completely still where he’s got the wooden spoon gripped.

Regulus hums, leans in impossibly closer, really rubbing himself into James’ ass. James lets out a wheeze. Regulus tilts his head, mouth right next to the other’s ear, “How many do we need?”

“Hm?” James’ voice is thin.

“How many do we need, James?” Regulus repeats, fingers over his hip tightening marginally.

“Ah- um, what? Sorry, I’m—”

“Plates, James,” Regulus tuts, grinding his hips forward slightly, “How many plates?”

“O-oh,” James seems to take a deep, steadying breath, “Five?”

Regulus hums and then with one last little thrust grabs the plates before lifting back down and extracting himself.

He can feel James’ eyes glued to him the whole while Regulus is setting them on the table, neatly next to the cutlery. It fills Regulus’ entire body with a warm feeling. Eventually he saunters back over, coming to a stop right next to James, who is currently indecently staring at Regulus’ crotch. If it was anyone else in any other situation Regulus would have already punched them in the nose but this is different. This is Regulus purposely instigating and James stepping right into the trap Regulus has carefully placed between the foliage.

“Something you wanna ask?” Regulus ducks his head, catching James’ gaze where it’s evidently trained on his lap. 

He doesn’t quite manage to suppress his grin this time. James seems to notice that, sputtering at first before realisation dawns on his face.

“You– oh, you’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?” James replies, eyes narrowed slightly, flush high on his cheekbones regardless.

“Doing what?” Regulus asks innocently. He sets his elbows on the counter behind him, jutting out his hips teasingly.

James groans obscenely and then proceeds to cage Regulus right in, settling two palms on either side of Regulus’ elbows. 

“Regulus.” There’s a warning quality to the way James presses out his name.

“James,” Regulus purrs, angling his face to look up at the older man through his lashes.

James breathes out roughly through his nose, pupils dilating. “You’re packing, aren’t you?”

“I might be.”

“And you wanted me to know.”

Regulus makes a non-committal sound.

“God,” James curses, “You’re so infuriating. Do you know how hard it is to not—” 

He doesn’t finish the sentence. James’ eyes are roving over his face for clues and Regulus guesses if James is taking the inch, Regulus might as well give him the mile. Or, rather, the rest of the inches.

“You wanna see it?”

James’ mouth opens soundlessly. It takes a moment before he answers. “It?”

“My cock,” Regulus explains, licking his lips. “It’s new.”

James moans quietly, “Yeah, Reg, I wanna see your cock, fuck.”

Regulus sets his hands against the muscle connecting James’ neck and shoulder, “Can you get on your knees for me?”

“Is the sky blue?” James retorts, eyes glazing over as he sinks down in front of Regulus without further prompting. When he looks back up at Regulus with big, Bambi brown eyes from behind his glasses he looks so sweet Regulus considers briefly if he might be in over his head. “Can I?” James asks, gently hiking his fingertips into the band of Regulus’ sweats. 

Regulus nods and with that James pulls the clothing down.

There’s a little bit of nervous yet excited sweat breaking out on Regulus’ palms but before he has the opportunity to overthink, he already hears the groan punching out of James. 

“Fuck, Reg,” James whispers. “Oh, Christ, you’re so gorgeous. Look at him.”

Regulus sucks in an unsteady inhale and twists his fingers into the unruly mess that is James’ hair, having to hold onto something suddenly.

“You like it?” Regulus rasps.

James answers with a slightly delirious laugh tumbling out of him. He shakes his head in awe, fingers digging into the soft muscle of Regulus’ thighs. “Reg, don’t slap me, I’m just being sincere when I say I wanna take you into my mouth so badly.”

Regulus dampens a moan into a sigh, “You can.”

James rips his gaze away from his cock, a starstruck look in his pretty, dark eyes when he gapes up at him. Regulus nods his reassurance.

“Oh fuck.” 

Then James is sucking Regulus’ flaccid strap into his mouth. Working his tongue around it, hallowing his cheeks and really giving it his all. Like his goal is to get Regulus as hard as fast as humanly possible.

And Regulus knows it’s logically impossible but he swears he can feel James tonguing at him, getting terribly aroused by the image and feel of James giving him a fucking blowjob right there in the kitchen. A small noise slips out of Regulus and he accidentally tightens his grip in James’ hair. James responds beautifully, moaning around Regulus in his mouth and eyes fluttering like he’s getting off just as much on all of this as Regulus is. His lips stretch prettily around the silicone and Regulus thumbs softly at the stubble on James’ jaw.

There’s a moment where their eyes meet when James takes him all the way into the back of his throat, making the end of the strap push back against Regulus’ centre, where Regulus has the sudden realisation that he’s going to come if James keeps this up.

And that is decidedly the moment the front door opens, the laughter of their friends echoeing through the hallway.

James keens when Regulus pulls him off and quickly tugs the waistband of his sweatpants back up and pulls on James’ shirt until he stands as well. He looks like a kicked puppy as Regulus ushers him back to the stove, shoving the wooden spoon against his chest to stir the probably totally overcooked pasta. His mouth is twisted into a pout or maybe that’s just them being swollen from having Regulus in his mouth. 

Fuck it.

He takes James’ jaw in a loose grip to get his attention again. “Finish this after dinner?”

James’ answer is a bright smile and a quick kiss he steals himself against Regulus’ wrist.

[mayoonn]

A little snippet of my work, I hope you are enjoying it my dear. Don't be afraid to request, I'm into a lot of freaky stuff, well depends but I'm sure there's nothing you should hide from me ;)

This was self insert, bottom trans male reader, no description for the bottom genitalia, Implied no top-surgery and chest was described as small, implied non-con? But not descriptive, creepy man and are called as pigs

You were working late, again. It was just another boring day, your boss had requested to stay as usual and there wasn't any difference about it. Of course, you were carried away with work that you didn't check the time. By now, it should be midnight as you finished cleaning your desk. You already felt uneasy, knowing there'll be creeps and weirdos out there. You know how wild it is once at midnight struck, you usually take a train on the way to go home.

You were exhausted, not only from work but also life. Why can't you have a normal life? The same thought that plaque in your mind for years. People would discriminate and humiliate you just because you're a trans man, especially when you haven't got enough money for the surgery. At first you didn't mind, sure a little dysphoria here and there but still you're no different than a man plus your chest is as small as it can be. You're always scared of surgery sometimes, the risk and the disadvantages. It's 50/50 chance, isn't it?

The train came by and you walked inside once the doors were opened. The night was so silent that it sometimes comforts you, you sit near the pole and close your eyes for a moment. You just wanted a little rest from the stress, you didn't notice someone was sitting next to you. You finally noticed when his thigh literally rubs into your thighs. You tried not to think about it, the man is literally manspreading. Out of all the seats and he chose next to you? Pigs are what you thought at first, you assumed he's a perverted man who just likes to see other people uncomfortable.

Your brows furrowed in annoyance as you just mind your own business, I was sure the man wanted to get my reaction when he rubbed my thighs. You looked at the man with disgust as you tried to pull away from his hand but his grip was like a steel. He put his finger up to his mouth with his free hand and started to lean closer to your neck. You thrashed around his body and pushed him but he didn't budge, his deep voice chuckled and kissed your neck. He gripped your hip while the other hand slowly caressed from your stomach to your chest and fondled it..

You didn't think this would've happened to you as you slowly bounced on his cock. Tears swelling in your eyes, begging him to stop but the man only rubbed your hips and coo for your comfort. His grip on you was rough and painful yet his kisses and words was so gentle. You quietly moaned, hoping there was no one else in the section, you couldn't handle the humiliation.

[blueberrymori]

☆warnings: FTM! reader, platonical content, teenage reader and older than Damian (reader is between 14-17 years old), dysphoria on the part of reader, reader depriving himself of sleep, Bruce being a good father, I don't use Y/N or variants of those in my fanfics then Bruce calls his son a little bat.

☆summary: when Bruce finds out that his son, is having a day of dysphoria, he plans an entire day to take care of his son.

☆A/N: I didn't really know how to finish this one, it was two in the morning when I wrote it.

Bruce had just returned from a patrol, it was late at night, he expected to see the whole mansion silent and unlit, but that's not what he found, Bruce came across his son in the kitchen barely keeping up, he was practically leaning against the kitchen counter barely waiting for the coffee machine to finish the coffee. 

-What are you doing here? This afternoon, are you still using the binder? - Bruce said worriedly as he realized you were still wearing the binder. He walked over to his son and put his hand on his shoulder. - Little bat, you're barely standing - Bruce said as he moved his hand to stroke your hair.

- I'm fine, Dad, I just need some more coffee - his tired voice betrayed him, and Bruce moved his hand to pull his head to his chest. - No, you don't need coffee, you need to sleep and take off that binder, it's going to affect your breathing and your ribs- Bruce said, hugging you and stroking your back.  Come on, I'll take you to rest- Bruce said without giving you time to answer as he led you into the bedroom and turned off the kitchen light.

-Dad, I'll be fine, I swear - his voice was tired and you couldn't even believe your own words, Bruce just hummed without believing you, he kept his hand on your back and followed the path to your room, when you got to the room Bruce stopped at the door.

-Go and get changed, I'll wait here to make sure you go to sleep - Bruce said, smiling slightly.-What are you going to take care of me as a child? - Bruce laughed lightly as he saw you enter the room and close the door behind you, he laughed and shook his head.

- You're never too old to let yourself be helped, little bat- Bruce said, leaning on the door, he looked at the decorations in the hallway, Bruce waited to hear your voice again, he felt the door open behind him and he stumbled a little before regaining his balance. - You could have warned me before opening the door, couldn't you, little bat?  Bruce said, laughing a little, but the smile soon faded when he saw that you were still in your binder.

-  Little bat, we've been over this, you can't wear it for more than eight hours, how long have you been wearing it?  Bruce's tone wasn't accusatory, no, he was just trying to keep his son healthy. -Okay, I'll go - Bruce cut him off. -No more of that little bat, you can't sleep with that on, take it off, take it off please - Bruce says in a firmer but still affectionate tone, leaving no room for argument, Bruce sees his look of protest and he pats him on the head. -  Please, little bat.  When he sees your nod, he closes the door and, to wait one more time, walks over to the painting.

-Ready - your voice made him go back to the door and open it, he saw you sitting on the bed. - What's wrong little bat, what's going on? Please tell me, you're my son, I want you to be all right- Bruce said, sitting down next to him, the bed heavy beside him.

- Dysphoria  - his voice made him move his hand to his hair. - So you tried to compensate for the dysphoria by overworking, sleep deprivation and kneading your ribs - Bruce says smiling at you even though he's much more worried than usual, when he sees you smiling nervously and smiles, he strokes your hair again and he pulls your head onto his shoulder. - What happened? Talk to me- Bruce asks gently again, to encourage you to speak.

- The clothes, when I wear them with sports tops, they show and when I was looking in the mirror it gave me a trigger...me - he sees you wince, Bruce sighs and kisses your forehead.

- I get it little bat, you should have told me or your brothers, I could have taken you to buy you some new clothes, your brothers could look after you and help you take your mind off it- Bruce says looking at you, he has a worried and caring look on his face, he strokes your cheek and kisses your forehead. 

- Little Bat, how about tomorrow we go out and buy some clothes for you, and spend a day as father and son, and please no overtime - Bruce says before getting up. - Come on, lie down, I'll cover you up - Bruce says, picking up the blanket from the foot of the bed.

-Thank you, Dad, I really do - Your voice makes him calm down, and he covers and kisses your cheek.

- Sleep well little bat- he says before turning off the light and leaving the room.

- Good night, Dad- he smiles as he closes the door,  Bruce was going to plan something to help you, you're his son and he refuses to leave his son feeling like that.

The other day you woke up to the knock on your bedroom door, when you opened the door Bruce had a smile on his face - good morning little bat - he says pulling you in for a hug, the hug catches you off guard, but soon your hands go to him to return the hug.

- Why are you so cheerful? The last time I saw you like this was when you took a week off from patrolling- Bruce laughed and I put my hand on his shoulder, starting to lead him out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.

- I've planned a father and son day, and we're going to start with breakfast, and then we can watch a movie or do something you like - Bruce says smiling, excited at the idea of spending a day with his son, it's been a long time since something like this has happened, he regrets that this is the result of a bad moment like a day of dysphoria that his son had to deal with alone but he's going to do his best to take care of it.

Bruce woke up early that morning because he wanted you to feel cared for and create a sense of trust so that if it happened again you would go to him instead of putting your health in danger.

Bruce made a point of not giving you coffee this morning, he asked Alfred to help him hide the powder and the coffee capsules, maybe later Tim would freak out when he didn't find his coffee capsules, but that would be a later subject.

-No coffee today, tea will be better for your body and mind - Bruce said as he poured the sachet of chamomile tea into a mug and added the hot water.

-Seriously? You're going to block my coffee? - Bruce laughed lightly and looked at you as he brought the mug of chamomile tea closer.

-Yes, you and Tim are going to run out of coffee today, it'll be good for your health - Bruce said, pouring himself some tea.

- Tim's going to freak out when he doesn't get his coffee, he'll give in to the energy drink and go back to the cases.  As you said this Bruce nodded, he saw you take a sip of tea and he smiled to himself.

Bruce waited for you to take your time eating, he wanted this to be a peaceful moment for you, he wanted to make sure you felt safe and protected.

[scoutswritingcorner]

hi! i’m so sorry if i’ve sent this request before but my tumblr has been pretty glitching lately so i just wanted to make sure you got it >:)

could i request some fluffy angel dust x trans male reader headcanons? how angel would help reader with dysphoria and stuff like that?

thank you in advance if you decide to write this!

Perfect In Everyway!

AngelDust x FTM!Reader

TW: Body Dysmorphia! Nothing else but if you guys need me to tag anything don’t be afraid to DM or shoot me a message!

A/N: God I love this! There aren’t enough FTM Readers with Angel Dust out there! Hope you enjoy! I WENT OFF ON THIS ANON (not me projecting) IM SORRY!!

-🕷️ When Angel died, he didn’t know a lot about what we know today. So when you first started dating, you were really scared to tell him. 

-🩷 You both take the whole relationship slow, he doesn’t truly understand why but he’s happy and willing to do so for you! He might think this is your first time dating in a long time or you just never dated anyone before!

-🕷️ It takes some help from Charlie and Vaggie, who you told first cause surely they didn’t care! They support and love you! Now, like I’m talking, depending on how terrified you are or just how your body reacts to telling him, they’ll go off based on that cause they understand how serious this is!

-🩷So either way, it takes a couple days for Charlie and Vaggie to help build up that confidence! But as soon as you are, they bring Angel into the equation. As soon as he walks in that confidence is immediately crumbling and he’s worried seeing that terrified look in your eyes.

-🕷️ He sits down infront of you and takes your hands with one pair as the other cradle your face to wipe any tears away, “What’s wrong, baby?” 

-🩷 As soon as you tell him? He’s confused but then he gets why you wanted everything to be at a slow pace. He just cradles your face and presses gentle kisses to your tear stained cheeks.

-🕷️ Oh boy, he’s praising you all day if you get dysmorphic! Hugging you from behind and smirking, “Look at my hunky man, he’d beat your ass~” or a simple kiss with, “How ya’ doin, Handsome?~”

-🩷 Want to stay in bed and hide from the world? He’s bringing snacks, water and Fat Nuggets! He makes sure you aren’t wearing your binder either so your chest can properly breathe!

-🕷️ Sweet baby boy right here- he looks up and asks Charlie about more modern slang and what he can do to help! He’s still a little clueless but he’s trying!

-🩷 Even at work, if he sees something that’ll look good on you? He’s texting you a picture and asking if you’d like something more like that. All in all, sweet precious baby boy. Would smooch 30/10.

a/n: To all my trans brother, sisters and siblings! I love you guys and hope you had a great Trans Visibility Day yesterday! 🏳️‍⚧️<3 <3

[syoddeye]

bespoke

ghost x transmasc!reader | 1k words tags: brief, mild mentions of transphobic experiences. simon riley's terrible and dirty jokes. brief scene at the end with makeshift restraints. otherwise, fluff. a/n: got hit with a wave of dysphoria. wrote this. bon appétit. 💀

He ties your tie. Insists. 

It’s not like you don’t know how. You do. You walked a tightrope for years. Lived through the height of twee and dapper, collected and wore neckties and bowties unironically. Tried and suffered through all types of aesthetics and accessories to find your style. But this is the first big to-do since you hard launched your ‘new’ identity. The first time you’ll wear such an outfit where you don’t force a laugh or tightly smile as others call it a gimmick or costume. Where your family isn’t around to call it the ‘offbeat’ fashion of a quirky niece or an eccentric daughter.

When you dressed, hands shaking with excitement, perhaps you messed up the knot. It looked passable. You weren’t about to ask him to check it. A lifetime of teasing and backhanded compliments led to a fierce independent streak. Nobody could pester you if they couldn’t get close. ‘Course, nobody could help, either.

But because it’s him, you allow it.

It’s been a long, lonely road. Worth it, though, in the end. To find and carve out your path. To meet the man who’s served as your most steadfast support, confidant, and protector. Whose hands smooth your lapels and straighten the knot. Whose eyes catch you staring and soften when he sees how glassy yours look.

“We don’t have to go.”  

“I want to.”

“You’re upset.”

“Believe me, I’m not. Far from it.” 

You wipe a pesky tear and survey yourself in the mirror. The secondhand suit fits like a glove, modified to perfection. The result of someone’s pestering. An indulgence difficult to accept when originally agreed upon but a triumph in the moment. It pays its dividends in confidence, making you stand straighter and feel as though you might float.

Simon bends, tucking his chin over your shoulder. The silk mask obscuring his face matches his suit, pure black, of course. His eyes drag down your reflections as his arms thread under yours, tugging you backward into his chest. 

“We clean up nice.”

“One of us does.” You smile, a bit pained from his continued sweetness. “I look like I raided my dad’s wardrobe.”

You regret it the moment you say it because you know how stupid it sounds. Hours of tailoring and craft adorn you. Enough care and attention to detail for it to appear completely bespoke and custom—not stolen or borrowed.

A big hand skirts up, fingers and thumb slotting over your face. He gently squeezes your cheeks. A habit when he thinks you’re acting foolish or chirping incessantly. He presses until your lips fold in an artificial pout.

“You got a mouth tonight.”

“‘M told s���good f’kissing.” You force out, not bothering to even try and remove his hand.

Simon squishes your cheeks a moment longer, staring hard in the mirror. Studying. He lets go and presses his lips to your temple. 

“Think you’re funny?”

“You usually laugh.”

“Not when you joke at your own expense.” 

The pout that appears on your face is genuine this time, and so is the instinct to flee. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve tried to run away from the kindness of Simon Riley. It’s certainly not the first time he flexes his muscle, molding himself to you.

“Settle. Talk t’me.”

You shake your head and try to squirm free despite knowing all the good that’ll do.

“We’re going to be late if we don’t leave now.”

“Then we’ll be late.”

“To a wedding? Simon we can’t be the people that walk in after the bride.”

“I’ll walk her down myself if ya don’t start talkin’.”

It’s anyone’s guess how serious he is about that. Erring on the side of caution, you fuss a second more, then finally voice the fears eating you alive. The laundry list of worst-case scenarios and what-ifs. Your thoughts bend to dread like flowers track the sun.

“If anythin’ happens, we’ll handle it. Together.” Simon pinches your hips. “Or alone, in the small hours, after I drop you at home.”

That isn’t a joke. Simon doesn’t make empty threats. Not about that.

“Simon—“

“How many times do I gotta tell you, to get it through your skull, hm?” He murmurs, littering emphatic kisses over the side of your head. Nipping your neck. If he wasn’t holding you, you’d be a puddle.

“You can’t get rid of me. You got me, love. Let me worry about the hard things.” A squeak tears out when a broad hand skims down the front of your suit and cups the front of your trousers. His grip pulses over the packer, and you nearly skyrocket through the ceiling. “If you’re good and check in with me like you’re supposed to, I’ll have a nice hard thing for you later.”

To save face, as if you aren’t practically drooling at that, you shoot him a look in the mirror. Wrinkle your nose and curl your lip. The glint in your eye is unmistakable, however. 

“Simon,” You groan in feigned disgust. “You’re terrible.”

“Don’t I know it. C’mon.” He releases you entirely, stepping back to adjust himself and his shirt collar in the mirror. “Price’ll kill me if we’re late.”

Hours later, back home after a night of celebration, he ties your tie. 

Tight enough to keep your wrists together, loose enough to feel safe. He strips you slowly and thoughtfully. Takes his time setting each element aside. He inflicts sweet torture, showering you with praise and echoing compliments paid to you at the reception.

So handsome. Lookin’ braw. Don’t let the bride see ya.

Usually, such words would do you in. Gnaw and bite like flies, make you assume the worst. Assume people were just being polite and lying. But…Simon wouldn’t lie. As he looms over you, hooking a leg with one arm and bracketing your head with the other, he tells you to settle. Reminds you to let him worry about the hard things.

And because it’s him, you allow it.

[abyssal-author-and-artist]

oh shit i just realized i forgot to post the trans dipper essay

oh well, better late than never!

Introducing - Why Mason "Dipper" Pines is Trans and Why that Matters - an essay I spent more time on than I did my actual college project today

Mason "Dipper" Pines from Gravity Falls is trans. Trans masculine, to be specific. Do I believe this was intentional? No. Do I believe that there's a seriously convincing case to be made? Fuck yes.

So first off, he's just like me frfr, which is pretty compelling in and of itself. But that's not enough for a whole essay, so we move onto our second point - character designs. Dipper is designed like, well, like every modern-era trans man I've ever drawn who isn't goth. The shorts, the one shirt in the one color, the absolute insecurity. He even does the hunch of the back! Also, I think I heard somewhere that the vest is to make his shoulders look broader, which I'm not entirely sure is canon but I am accepting this whole-heartedly. It's such a trans move of him. He's too young (and it's summer so it's too hot) to wear a dysphoria hoodie so he picked a vest. (I say too young because dysphoria hoodies usually cover your chest and Dipper and Mabel probably haven't hit puberty.)

The second part comes directly from science. According to this article, and many others, sex in identical twins is complicated, but most identical twins will be born the same sex. There are cases where this isn't true (which might be the case for Mabel and Dipper) or they might be fraternal, which is also pretty likely. However, looking at them when they were younger (and listening to their very similar voices), it's likely they were identical and both girls. That's not to say I dislike trans Mabel - every trans woman I draw dresses like her, so I do love her being trans as well and them hitting the age of like. 10. and swapping genders is incredibly funny and adorable to me.

So, we can't reliably use the aforementioned evidence, then, can we? After all, identical twins can be different sexes, although rare, and we don't have any proof they are identical beyond their visual (and when they were younger, audible) similarities. Well, first off, I'd say that's pretty compelling evidence already. In a cartoon, especially one as detailed and beautiful-looking as Gravity Falls (the art is good and I will die on this hill), visual language makes up for a lot. And Alex Hirsh has gone on record saying that he very much wanted Jason Ritter and Kristen Schaal for Dipper and Mabel respectively, to the point where he would have canceled the show if Kristen hadn't signed on, so I wholeheartedly believe every character (with the exception of Grenda and any other characters who had last minute va's picked) had their voice actors picked very specifically. I can't find whether Jason Ritter voiced younger Dipper, though, so that's a dead end.

Now, that's all well and good, but it's a lot of visual language, isn't it? Why don't we move into something more based in the writing itself?

So the first and most prominent example of Dipper being transgender is the episode Dipper vs Manliness. You know it, you probably have emotions on it, it's the episode where Dipper is trying his hardest to be a man's man. The episode was supposed to be about toxic masculinity and how to be a real man is to stick to your morals. It's a good lesson and in my opinion, holds up even in 2024. Pretty good. Does a great job of what it wants to do. Now, Dipper vs. Manliness has been dissected to hell and back already as a transgender allegory, so I'll keep this brief: the episode centers around Dipper being mocked for not being manly. While Mabel and Stan still see him as a man, albeit an effeminate one, it gets to Dipper. He proceeds to do anything to prove himself a real man. If viewed as a trans allegory, Mabel is teasing her brother and not realizing how deeply it actually hurts him (whether accidentally because she fails to realize how insecure he is over it or because she hasn't been there before, depending on how you want to headcanon it). As for Stan, I like to pretend he's supportive but regularly forgets Dipper was ever a girl, so he makes a serious slip up because of that (and/or he's regurgitating stuff said to him. That hits harder if you also headcanon trans Stan, which I am warming up to). Dipper proceeds to try and prove himself a man, crying when he takes even one more blow to his self esteem/sense of identity as a man, and eventually gets comfort from his family when they realize just how BADLY they messed him up. He is affirmed as a man and the episode ends. Everything that can be said, has been said - including that you don't have to act toxically masculine - or even masculine at all - to be a real man. Remember this part, it will be important later.

So, other trans moments for Dipper come a little sparser. Dipper vs. Manliness is the example for a good reason. But still, there's other moments. The short Voice Over from one of the short story compliation episodes is another one that's commonly referenced as a metaphor for voice dysphoria. Yes, Dipper's voice is cracking in ways common for a cis pre-teen boy his age, but the pitch and tone of his voice can also be seen as his more feminine voice peeking through. Taking the potion can be seen as taking testosterone or other hormones. Granted, this falls apart when you consider that Dipper is later discouraged from taking the potion, because that could be read as Dipper being discouraged from transitioning, but on the other side of the spectrum, it could be read as Dipper being affirmed as a real man despite his voice. From that perspective, his family prevents him from taking (possibly dangerous) homebrewed hrt. Also, the euphoria he gets when it does change his voice is just. Absolutely adorable.

Now, my favorite resource for Dipper acting trans is in the episode Headhunters. He's asking Manly Dan questions and Manly Dan calls Dipper a girl. And MAN the discomfort on Dipper's face. He immediately attempts to correct Manly Dan, but is shut down and the episode moves on. I think that for such a short moment, it does a good job of making Dipper seem trans, though. He is called a girl and feels extreme discomfort around it. He does not like being called a girl. He is not a girl. But he's not shocked or surprised or even really offended - he's resigned. He's used to being called a girl. Sure, he hates it, but he doesn't cry or scream or anything. Sounds to me like a trans man who's absurdly used to being misgendered but still hates it. That pain never goes away, but sometimes all you can do is flinch in discomfort, try to correct and move on, like the episode does.

For a (mostly humorous) video of more of Dipper acting trans, check out this video.

So I think we've made a pretty compelling point for Dipper Pines being trans masc here. Looks pretty good, yup, this is a great essay, let's wrap it up. Oh? What's that? The name of this essay?

Why Mason "Dipper" Pines is transgender and why that matters.

Well, let's dive into section two of this essay - why does Dipper being trans matter?

Someone could easily say it doesn't matter. Just fun fandom headcanons, that's it, wrap it up now. Nothing more to say. Dipper is trans and that's just a fun reading of his character.

But I don't think that's the case. I think that Dipper being trans means so much - to trans fans of the show, to fans who have never seen or spoken to trans people before, and to queer fans of Gravity Falls and similar shows. (I personally am a Steven Universe fan who really valued the representation there, so Gravity Falls and all it's queer coding means a lot to me.)

First and foremost, I'm not going to keep you in the dark as to why you're remembering my earlier point. As a recap, it was this: Dipper vs. Manliness, and by proxy, Gravity Falls as a whole, says that you don't have to be traditionally masculine to be a real man. For a show that spends a lot of time mocking a kid commonly headcanoned to be a trans man, that says a lot, and a lot of stuff I think more people need to hear.

You do not need to act like your gender to be your gender.

You do not need to present like your gender to be your gender.

You do not need to fit some rigid box that society enforces to be who you are.

If you are a man, you are a man, trans or cis, regardless of how you act. (And the same goes for women and nonbinary people! You don't have to fit a mold.)

You don't owe anyone anything.

You don't owe people masculinity. (Or femininity or androgyny for that matter.)

I think that's part of the reason Dipper vs. Manliness ages so well. Dipper reads as trans, especially to queer fans, and his story in that episode tells us that we don't have to be someone we're not for people to take us seriously as who we are. At the end of the day, the really masculine thing is staying true to you - a sentiment echoed and reversed in The Last Mabelcorn, where the most feminine thing you can do is to stay true to yourself. I can't find it right now, but I could swear that there's a That GF Fan video explaining my point a little better. The point is, there's nothing that makes you more of whatever your gender is than staying true to yourself.

Additionally, if Dipper really is trans and someone sees themself in him, that can help them explore their gender or explain it to other people. Young kids who have never interacted with trans people before can see Dipper and grow up to connect the dots - or grow up to have him crack their eggs.

I know I'm new to the fandom and I was already out before watching the show, but he really helped me explore my gender. I like dressing like him - he's very relatable, even though I'm old enough to be in college now. I see him as a very anxious, slightly paranoid trans kid, and I see a lot of myself in him. He has a lot of issues, and a lot of issues that aren't trans specific but definitely hit harder when you are trans. He makes me feel seen on a level that I never thought a cartoon character could do.

Honestly, here would be a good place to put a rant about representation in kids media - queer kids under the age of 12 exist and struggle. I liked a girl (before realizing I was trans) in fifth grade, so about 9 years old. There are kids who experiment with their gender when they're younger than that. We're here and we exist, and every single time a character in children's media is made and is prevalent, another kid is able to really see themself.

That's really the point of this section. Dipper is trans. That matters. People - mostly queer kids but people of all ages - see themselves in him. He's here and we see him as queer because it's validating. It feels so good to hear Stan affirm him at the end of Dipper vs. Manliness, because it proves that at the end of the day, you don't need to present as super masc or femme or androgynous to be who you are.

Gravity Falls, through coding Dipper as trans, sent a message:

You are seen. You are loved. You are valid.

Thank you for reading this all. Trans Dipper means a lot to me, and I love writing him and seeing him in general. I want more of him because Dipper being trans means the world to me.

I love you all. Have a wonderful day. Remember to stay true to yourself.

[hypnoneghoul]

Symbol on the Surface Chapter 3

WC: 2,8k

Relationship: SwissAlps

Tags: Transmasc Swiss, Pregnancy, Mentions of Vomiting, Medical Quintessence, Panic Attack, Nausea, Food Repulsion, Gender Dysphoria, Very Brief Abortion Talk, Hurt/Comfort

“Does that fit what you were thinking?” “I’m…actually pregnant?”

Notes: Tysm to @jimothybarnes for beta reading :3

Chapter 1 here or on AO3.

Read chapter 3 under the cut or on AO3.

Swiss all but runs to the infirmary, wanting to get there before he changes his mind.

He feels stupid for even considering it.

Hoping?

Either way, something is really wrong with him and he has to get himself checked out.

The way he stumbles into Omega’s office makes the older ghoul jump behind his desk and furrow his brows; instinctively looking for injuries on Swiss “Are you okay, what’s on fire? Or who’s on fire?”

“No, no fire–or no, fire’s in my fucking guts and it’s driving me crazy,” the multi ghoul pants, slumped against the door frame. The trip shouldn’t have tired him as much as it did, “like–you know how you’re hungover and want to puke, but–that’s just nausea, but I’m rarely nauseous and lately it’s been just, oh my lord below, you know, it’s like–”

“Swiss…”

“No, no, I know, I know I sound crazy, but–my skin feels weird, my insides feel weird and my everything is so messed up,” he continues his ramble, “and I feel like absolute shit, you know when it’s like a train ran you over? Yeah, so I usually don’t care, but now I’m losing my mind ‘cause I’m low-key scared and now–now I’m here and Mountain’s asleep ‘cause I think I left a lung in the fucking toilet so–”

“Swiss!” Omega’s raised voice finally snaps the multi ghoul out of it. “Calm down and tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m sorry, can you just–check me out for…everything?”

“Everything?” Omega questions. “Why won’t you just tell me what your concerns are?”

“Because even though I doubt it’s possible my brain decided to fixate on it and I don't want to make even a bigger fool out of myself, so just please, scan me over with your quintessence, or something, and just tell me what you see.”

The quintessence ghoul is currently more concerned with the other’s mental state, rather than his physical one, but he will do what Swiss is asking of him. After all he’s there to help, whatever the issue may be and however he has to discover it. Omega stands up and points at an empty gurney on the other side of his office. “Why don’t you sit down, try to relax a little.”

Swiss obeys, although it’s not so easy to just relax. He tries his best, taking a few deep breaths as Omega puts on his glasses and walks up to him.

“I’ll put one hand on your shoulder and the other one on your chest, is that okay?” Swiss nods. “Alright, then, let’s see…”

Omega’s quintessence flows into him and makes his entire body tingle as it travels through his veins and along his nerves and penetrates layer after layer of skin.

Swiss becomes uncomfortably aware of every single piece of his mortal vessel and tries to take a deep calming breath; it only makes him strangely aware of his lungs, too.

It’s the longest five seconds in the multi ghoul’s life, he thinks, as he feels the other inspect him whole, looking for–

Omega tries to stay professional and not make his internal shock external.

Surely not, it can’t be.

He grits his teeth and goes to double check.

How…?

“Oh…” he finally mutters, pulling back.

“‘Oh’ what!?”

“Do you, uh…” Swiss doesn’t like Omega’s confused and frankly scared expression at all, “do you want to see what I see?”

“Uhm, I guess…” He shrugs, chuckling nervously and trying his very fucking best to keep his composure. Omega steps forward and puts his hands on either side of Swiss’ head, fingers pressing lightly into his temples.

“Okay, let me in.” Swiss does—it’s easy; the anxiety is making his walls lower and thinner. He closes his eyes to focus on the image the quintessence ghoul is showing him. “So this is how I normally see a ghoul, the light is their energy, their essence. Not a soul, just…energy.”

It’s like a vague human-like shape in a darkness, in a void. The edges of the form are fuzzy and it’s filled with a faint colorful light, but what stands out is a blindingly bright orb of pure light in the middle of the shape’s chest.

“Okay. What’s wrong with mine?”

“Nothing. But this is how I’m seeing you now.” The image shifts and…three more lights, so much duller and smaller than the first one, show up in the area of Swiss’ lower abdomen.

“Oh…”

“Yeah,” Omega sighs, “does that fit what you were thinking?”

“I’m…actually pregnant?” Swiss chokes out. The words nearly get stuck in his throat, because…how can it be real? “With three kits?”

“You are,” the quintessence ghoul confirms and the ringing in Swiss’ ears gets deafening.

“H–how is that even possible?” he hears himself asking, but he can’t feel his mouth moving.

“Good question. I have no idea, I guess the best answer is that you’re a walking miracle all over and Lucifer decided to grant one more. Or rather three.”

“Can you, uhm…” his voice cracks; this is getting way too much too quickly, “can you get Mountain for me?”

“Of course. Baby daddy?”

“Yeah, I–I suppose…he’s the only one who–who gets in there,” Swiss admits, making Omega chuckle despite everything. He’s trying to stay composed, but this is a first one for him, too. He’s not as scared as the multi ghoul—obviously—but it’s…tense.

Swiss is absolutely freaking out.

“Holy–holy shit, what the fuck, oh my–oh Lucifer, what the fuck!?” he mutters under his breath. Or maybe it’s just in his head?

He doesn’t know how much time passes before they hear the door to the infirmary slam open.

“What happened? What’s wrong, my heart, are you alright?” Mountain barges in demanding answers; a strong smell of worry reaching Swiss and Omega before the earth ghoul himself does. He’s completely disheveled; it’s clear he jumped straight out of bed to come for his mate.

Swiss just stares at him, though, with glassy eyes and mouth slightly agape.

Mountain gets even more worried—it’s rare his mate is speechless. He turns to the other ghoul in the room, “Omega, what’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing’s wrong, he’s just…a little overwhelmed,” Omega replies. Mountain gets to them and immediately takes Swiss into his arms. “Swiss, do you want to tell him yourself or do you want me to?”

The multi ghoul tries to come back to earth, get himself together to consider the question that he’s just been asked.

“I–I can, uh…” he stutters and pauses to take a big breath, “I’m–I’m…pregnant. We’re…we’re having kits, big guy.”

Mountain’s jaw drops. “Wh–this…what? Are you–you’re not joking, right? That would be really cruel, please, my heart, tell me it’s not a joke, I need–we’re gonna have kits?”

His immediate excitement changes the air in the room and gives Swiss something…something positive to cling to. Physically he is clinging to Mountain already, but he finds breathing a little easier now.

“We’re gonna have kits,” Swiss confirms. His mate’s heart is pounding and he looks between the multi ghoul and Omega with his mouth agape.

“You’re both in shock right now, and understandably so,” the quintessence ghoul says, “so I’ll let you go and just text Mountain some information. I’d like to see and talk with you both about some important things to consider as soon as you feel up to it, okay? Now off you go, I’m prescribing a good meal and long sleep for both of you.”

Swiss doesn’t really register leaving the infirmary, walking through the Abbey’s corridors and getting back to the Den. Mountain all but carries him all the way, chewing on his own lip; he’s an absolute wreck inside, but has to stay strong for Swiss right now. He’ll give himself to all the emotions later, when his mate is taken care of.

They get to the ghoul’s kitchen and the smell of food makes Swiss realize where he is. It makes another wave of nausea hit him, though, and he only takes a few sips of water Mountain poured him.

“I can’t eat now,” he mumbles, “I’m sorry,”

“It’s okay, I understand,” Mountain sighs, rubbing his back as he drinks, “it’s, uh…very stressful right now.”

Swiss nods and empties the glass. He only speaks again when they’re in their bedroom.

“How do we…what about the pack? They’ll notice, how can we–we can’t not tell them.”

“Not now, darling, try not to think so much, let’s try to get some sleep.”

He’d like that—he’s exhausted—but there’s so many things flailing around in his brain; it’s impossible not to think. Swiss doesn’t even notice he starts getting hotter and breathing heavier, but Mountain does; unfortunately familiar with his mate’s panic attacks.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” he grabs him with care to get his attention. “I’m scared, too, look at me, darling.”

It’s a little while before the multi ghoul can make eye contact, but once he does the fresh-grass-green of Mountain’s eyes makes him grow calmer and calmer by the second.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters before falling face first into his mate’s chest. He feels so stupid for all of this.

“No, my heart, don’t be,” the earth ghoul reassures. “I told you: I’m scared, too, but we’ll be alright.”

The embrace of Mountain’s strong arms makes Swiss’ exhaustion finally take over and he feels his eyes closing. The earth ghoul manhandles him into a cuddling position and holds him close.

A feeling akin to disgust creeps up on Swiss before he manages to fall asleep, though. It’s that strange sense of dread and wrongness he knows very well. It’s telling him this is all wrong.

Men don’t get pregnant, so it must mean he’s just—still—a girl in a pathetic disguise.

Swiss swallows against the bile rising in his throat, focuses on his mate's heartbeat under his ear and wills himself to fall asleep.

He wakes up calm. He doesn’t have the urge to throw all his guts up—at least at the moment, he doesn’t want to jinx it. He stretches a little and snuggles further into Mountain and–

Oh. It’s not morning and–

That happened.

The multi ghoul tenses up and his hands instinctively clench to grab at his mate. He’s awake and kicks up a purr in an attempt to soothe Swiss a little, “Hey, darling, it’s okay, don’t stress.”

Swiss doesn’t reply, he just takes a deep breath of Mountain’s fresh scent—the smell of the first days of summer. It’s okay.

“Ready to talk?” the earth ghoul asks after a while, when Swiss is fully awake again. He nods, sitting up.

“First of all, uh…I got that text from Omega when you were asleep and he said it’s not too late to…you know,” Swiss’ stomach turns a little at the unsaid part. He appreciates having the choice, but he can’t. “You don’t have to keep them.”

“I want to, I can’t get rid of them! I love them already, they’re our babies,” he admits and the earth ghoul’s chest warms up at the words. “And you got so excited!”

“I, uh…well, yes, I did,” he chuckles nervously. “I've always wanted to have kits and I want nothing more than to have them with you, but you have to be ready. You can't make this decision because of how I feel, it's your body.”

“No, I know, but…” Swiss sighs and drags a hand down his face. He’s so tired. “I want them, I really do.”

“Okay. Well, then, we’ll do our best to keep you safe and comfortable so that their growing spot is all cozy and when they’re here we will be the best parents that they could ever have. Right?”

“Right.” The multi ghoul nods and…that’s it. Their talk is done, their decision is made. Swiss gets a thought, though, “But what if–”

Mountain doesn’t let him finish, cutting him off with a smile on his face. “We’ll worry about ‘what if’s if any show up. Let’s go try to get some food in you now, alright?”

“Okay…” Swiss agrees, even smiling slightly himself. They climb out of bed and put on some presentable clothes to head down to the kitchen. Swiss really doesn’t want to see anyone, so they quickly grab something and all but run back to their room to hide again.

“Do you want to see Omega again today so all the inevitable stress is packed into one day and then you can relax when that’s done?” the earth ghoul asks once the food is gone. Swiss didn’t eat much—his appetite nonexistent the last few days—only nibbled at stuff here and there, but it’s better than nothing.

“Yeah, I think so,” he agrees, so Mountain texts the quintessence ghoul. He asks him to come down to the Den, to have the talk in the comfort of their own space, for Swiss’ sake. Omega, of course, doesn’t mind and is happy to do it like this.

The earth ghoul gets a chair by the bed for him and once settled in it, Omega begins his lecture. “Ghoul pregnancies are really short, only seven months. The kits come out tiny, but they grow rapidly for the next while and at around six months old they slow down and carry on like a one year old human baby would. It makes it more comfortable for a ghoul pregnant with a litter to carry on in the Pits, not be slowed down much and weaker.

However, this can look very differently Topside. This has never happened before and even though I know all about pregnant ghouls and kits in Hell and all about pregnant humans on Earth, I have no idea what to do with you.

What I know for sure is that you need a lot of rest, no weed, alcohol or caffeine. We’ll be meeting once a week to check on both you and your kits. Their elements will be a mystery until they’re born, but it seems like there’s a lot of water to them. I just hope for your sake they won’t take much earth or quintessence, at least not now.”

“Why?” Swiss asks with a frown. He doesn’t want to think about all the other things Omega has just said, it’s all so…scary and so much.

“Because it would be very dangerous for all parties involved if they got as big as a typical earth or quintessence kit,” he explains. The multi ghoul can feel his hand being squeezed by his mate. “At this point we have to be mentally prepared for anything. It’s a miracle and a mystery, anything can happen.”

Swiss and Mountain are quiet, waiting for even more scary information, but the quintessence ghoul stands up and walks to the door. “That’s, uh–I think that’s it. We should make a little group chat for the three of us and keep in contact at all times. Remember my emergency twenty-four seven number, too.”

Omega stops before he crosses the threshold and turns with a slight grimace. “One more thing…as I said, it’s a miracle. I would…wait a bit before announcing it, at least outside of the pack. As hard as it is for me to say, there’s a big chance they won’t live.”

The face Swiss makes at the words is easily the saddest thing both Omega and Mountain had ever seen. The latter brings his mate closer

“I’ll do everything in my power to help you two. Well, all five of you. I want to see those kits born and healthy in your arms,” Omega promises before leaving. The silence that surrounds Mountain and Swiss once the door is shut behind the quintessence ghoul is deafening.

“I asked the pack to give us a few days to process,” Mountain says to break it. “I didn’t say what, but you know them, nobody’s prying. They respect our need for space.”

Swiss nods and turns to bury his face in his mate’s neck.

“How about we go to the cabin for a few days?” the earth ghoul offers. “A nice week off just for us to think and relax, hm?”

“Yeah, that’d be nice,” Swiss admits and even musters up a soft little smile. Mountain can’t see it but he knows exactly how a smile against his neck feels with his mate’s stubble.

“We’ll be alright, my heart,” he whispers into his ear, “all five of us, we’ll have a little family. Everything will be okay, I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” Swiss mumbles and shuts his eyes. His hand instinctively goes to his stomach—he’s been feeling the urge to protect it for the last few weeks, but it makes sense only now.

Mountain looks at Swiss’ hand splaying over his little bump and smiles; it’s all terribly scary, but he’s so excited and happy and proud at the same time. He puts his own hand over his mate’s and nuzzles his face into his hair.

They’ll be alright.

Taglist: @arkeusruin @skele-bunny @everybodyshusband @ratsummer @jazz-bazz @mac-and-thefox @karmicbias @wine-irytatus

[sharkboywrites]

Hi, can you do Halsin and Astarion comfort (plus any others you like writing for) x trans reader struggling with top dysphoria, like to the point they actively avoid face to face contact because no matter how well they bind they can still feel them :( I've been struggling a lot (expecially since I can't bind due to health reasons)

Top Dysphoria

Halsin and Astarion x dysphoric transmasc reader

A/N: Really excited to write this bc I know how much chest dysphoria sucks, but I’m actually working on getting a binder now that I’m 18, so this is good motivation to write. Sorry I’m getting to this late, but I hope you feel better anon

Trans male/transmasc reader, dysphoria, chest dysphoria, all descriptions of dysphoria are based off of author’s experience

Halsin

- Halsin is one of those people that can immediately tell when something is wrong

- He could see the difference in the way you started to carry yourself, all confidence gone and making yourself as small as possible

- Your chatter died down, now often becoming completely silent unless you had to speak

- When you’d see up camp for the night you’d quickly retreat to your tent, not fixing up your weapons or talking to anyone else in your party

- He decided to wait until everyone headed to bed to check on you

- When he came into your tent you were just laying there

- You weren’t sleeping, but you weren’t exactly doing anything either

- You were just staring at the wall of your tent, face stained from tears

- He didn’t say anything at first, just sat beside you

- He eventually pulled you into his arms, holding you in a warm and comforting embrace, a bear hug perhaps

- When you felt comfortable enough to start talking, you told him everything

- You told him how you felt, how it was making every single day hard, how it was affecting your mental health

- He listened to you patiently, wiping away any tears that formed

- He assured you that your body does not define you, that it doesn’t change the way he sees you, but that he also understands why it makes you so upset

- He held you until you fell asleep, before laying with you, patting your hair as he drifted to sleep too

Astarion

- Astarion loves to bicker, that’s one obvious thing

- He throws small insults and comments whenever he can find the opportunity

- And you always bickered back

- It was like a game between the two of you, an entertainment of sorts while you had to walk from place to place, fighting monster after monster

- But suddenly, you stopped bickering back

- You were quiet, keeping to yourself

- You almost seemed smaller somehow, like trying to hide yourself from everyone around you

- He’d never admit it, but he missed your friendly fighting

- So, he decided to check up on you

- In his own way of course

- He’s not good at emotions, but he still addresses the problem directly

- He does it in a whiny way of course, while you’re party stopped at an inn for the night

- He companies about losing his fighting buddy, how quiet you’ve become, but beneath all that it’s clear he’s really just worried about you

- But he feels even worse when he sees you start to tear up

- He sits next to you on the bed as you cry out your feelings, telling him about everything

- His comfort comes in the form of a hand on your shoulder and a nod every now and then

- Like we’ve established, he’s not good with emotions, but he’s still there to listen to you

- He doesn’t have a lot to say, but he gives you a few assuring words about how he doesn’t care about those things and your body doesn’t determine who you are

- He stays with you the whole night, helping you stay distracted, and reminding you that he’s here for you

[archangeldyke-all]

Hey ! It's my first request ever, so I'm not sure how it work. If you're not confortable with it, feel free to don't respond. I'm kinda obsess with an AMAB Sevika, can you write reader discovering a surprise pregnancy with a sex friend/flirt/crush Sevika ?

I like the way you make her express her feelings, it's pretty accurate with Arcane. Feel free for them to keep the baby or not. Thank you so much and thank you for your work. ^^

sure!!! i got another very similar request too so i'll combine them :)

Amab sevika really be curing my depression

Maybe reader and vika are married and trying for a baby? 🥺🥺 amab sevika is my beloved and I'd die for her

men and minors dni

you guys have been trying to get pregnant for about six months now.

a lot of it's been fun. flipping through baby books together in bed, sending each other videos of cute babies on social media, and the actual baby making process is a blast.

but some of it's hard.

sevika's stopped taking her estrogen to get her sperm count back up. as a result, she's been horribly dysphoric.

you've caught her crying several times, standing in front of the mirror with a pair of tweezers in her hands, her chest irritated from the plucking and picking she'd done. she's become obsessive in shaving her face, doing it two or three times a day. her metabolism's gotten faster without the estrogen, and the 20 or so pounds of extra padding she'd put on her thighs and hips since she started e years ago is starting to fade away.

you try your best to make her feel better, insist that you guys could always try ivf instead, but she's determined to do it 'the old fashioned way.' so, you just hold her when her dysphoria takes hold, pressing kisses to her hair, reminding her you'd love her with a full beard just as much as you love her now.

it's been hard on you too. the more time that goes by without a successful pregnancy, the more you feel like your body's betraying you.

how many times did you and sevika have a pregnancy scare at the beginning of your relationship, before you were ready for kids? hundreds. but now that you're actively trying, your period is as regular as it can possibly be.

you've decided that if you go another month without any success, you're going to throw in the towel and ask your obgyn about ivf. you can't take much more disappointment, and you don't like seeing sevika so depressed all the time.

but then, something happens.

it starts with your tits getting sore.

for a week straight, they're tender to the touch, sore by the end of the night when you take your bra off. you know it's one of the earliest signs of pregnancy, but you don't say anything, not wanting to get your hopes up.

but then you start getting sick in the mornings. you can't hide this from sev, and she's squirming with excitement beside you as she rubs your back while you spew your guts into the toilet below.

"this is amazing." she says, giddy. you groan.

"real amazing sev, i'm feeling great." you say sarcastically. she giggles and presses a kiss to your head.

"i'm sorry, honey." she whispers. you giggle and reach out to hold her hand as another bout of nausea overtakes you.

your period is a day late.

and then two.

you know this. you know sevika knows this. but neither of you say anything, too scared to jinx it.

but when two days becomes three, and then three becomes a full week, you start getting excited.

you don't tell sevika you buy a pregnancy test-- not wanting to disappoint her if it's negative. but you do buy one, and you take it an hour before sevika's meant to get home.

it's positive. you nearly pass out from excitement.

sevika comes home to dinner on the table and flowers in the kitchen.

you sit on her lap the second she sits down, swinging your arms around her shoulders.

she's smiling like she already knows, but she's biting her lip-- worried that she's wrong.

"i got two surprises for you." you say.

"two?!" she asks, her hands clawing into your hips. you smile.

"two." you say, nodding.

you reveal the syringe full of her estrogen to her, raising your eyebrows at her. she blinks.

"what's that?" she asks. you laugh.

"'s only been a few months sev, y' already forgot what your e looks like?" you tease her. she blinks and gulps as you wipe a cool alcohol wipe over her bicep, pinching the skin and bringing the needle up to her arm. you smile at her.

"but what about--"

"don't ruin the second surprise." you scold her as you inject the needle into her muscle, pushing her hormones in and watching as her eyes go wide and sparkly.

she doesn't even notice the sting of the needle-- she's usually such a wimp about it, but tonight, she's got all her attention focused on you.

"does that mean-- are you--"

"pregnant?" you ask as you gently place a bandaid over the tiny puncture wound. sevika's breath catches in her throat and her eyes get watery. you place a kiss on top of the bandage, keeping your eyes locked on hers. sevika's breathing is shaky, tears already streaming down her cheeks. you lean up to kiss them up. "you're gonna be a momma, sev." you whisper against her cheek.

at the words, sevika bolts out of her chair, holding you in her arms and running you to the bedroom. you laugh the whole way.

sevika slams you (gently) down onto the bed before jumping on top of you. one of her hands goes to hold your stomach, the other comes up to cup your cheek.

"are you serious?!" she whispers. you smile and nod, your own tears welling in your eyes.

"took three tests. all positive." you say. sevika whimpers, then swoops down to kiss you.

she fucks you like she's trying to get you pregnant again.

and then, when you're done and she's holding you in your arms, her hand still on your stomach, the both of you catching your breaths, the first thing she says is, "what do you think about athena as a girls name?"

"goddess of war!?" you ask, laughing. "absolutely not. i'm not dealing with another little fighter in the house." you say. sevika giggles.

"but it's badass! nobody'd fuck with her." she says, pouting at you. you laugh. sevika gasps. "she just kicked!" she says, pointing at your belly. you laugh even harder. "she loves it! we have to name her athena now!" she says, teasing.

you groan and push her face away as she chuckles. "you're fuckin' ridiculous." you say between your giggles. sevika grins.

"i love you so much." she whispers, tears forming in her eyes again. your laughter ceases, a sweet watery smile taking its place.

"i love you too." you whisper.

sevika grins and swoops down to kiss your stomach.

"love you too, little fucker." she whispers to your belly.

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

[fatallyfalling]

Darling ~ ♆

“ C’mere Darling, “

{{ Finnick Odair x Reader }}

warnings: pure fluff, little bit of ptsd if ya squint, reader is gender neutral but has rlly short hair

{{ prompt }} the night is too hard to bear alone, so you seek out the one person who can make everything feel safe again

{{ a/n }} because i’m a liar and can’t post consistent updates for Bitter Water here is a drabble because i’m sad and dysphoria is kicking my ass <3 this is 100% self indulgent i’m so sorry, i also didn’t run this through my normal editing software so please be nice aaaaaaaaaaa

You didn’t like sleeping alone, in fact you despised it.

The bed felt too big and too cold. The dark shadows in the corners near your wardrobe were too ominous to look at for long periods of time as well. You barely wanted to close your eyes, fearing the vivid night terrors that lurked in the trenches of your memories after the sun had set. You tried to comfort and self soothe by keeping a small string of warm lights curled around your headboard but it wasn’t enough to keep the poltergeists in your head away tonight.

With a shaky sigh you pulled yourself from the soft bedding and tugged on a familiar too-big ivory, cable knit sweater that smelled of sea salt with a faded almonds and honey aroma. Pausing to deeply inhale the comforting scent for a moment, the tightness in your chest uncoiled itself a smidge. Blinking away the exhaustion in your eyes, you picked up the comfort item you couldn’t bear to sleep without, threadbare seams from years of love and all, and hugged the plush close before padding out of your bedroom and downstairs towards your front door.

The dusty blue walls and white baseboards had always been too ornate for your liking, and the house you’d been gifted in the Victors Village was too creaky and empty to be alone in all the time. Without caring to slip on a pair of shoes, you left the large empty house and crept across the quiet street towards a house that felt more familiar and safe. It didn’t matter that all of the houses more or less looked the same, what mattered was what lay inside this one, that made it different. The lights weren’t on but you administered a hesitant knock, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth while an anxious crease formed between your brows.

No answer.

You waited a beat before trying again, knocking a bit firmer. The crisp air was chilly, sending a shiver up your spine despite the thick sweater and having wrapped the too-long sleeves over your knuckles to mimic mittens. Your overactive mind started to wonder if you should bother him at this hour, it was indeed very late and he very well could be asleep. Holding the plush in your hands a bit closer, you felt the small flicker of hope in your chest go out after no inference of an answer appeared in the dark windows of the home. Maybe you should go back to your house, even if the idea of doing so churned your insides. Releasing a defeated sigh through your nose, you had turned and started back down the steps of the wooden porch when a small click sounded behind and an all too familiar voice rasped your name.

“What’s wrong…?”

Your head whirls, meeting groggy sea-green irises with eyelids dragged down by sleep. The male’s hair was tousled more than usual, clear evidence he’d been dozing off before your interruption. “I-I’m sorry, I just- my house was too uhm… a-and-“ your stumbling sentences trail off as your cheeks flush, ears burning red as your gaze falls to your socks.

“C’mere Darling,”

The sleepy drawl in the victor’s voice was enough to shut your mouth and set your legs moving to melt into his warm embrace. “mm sorry Finn,” you murmur into his chest as strong arms wrap around your shoulders and waist. A comforting weight rests on your head from Finnick’s chin and the vibrations of his voice are felt against your cheek on his shoulder. “Don’t apologize, it’s okay. Let’s get inside,”

You simply nod, allowing him to lead you in, with your fingers gently interlaced. The calluses on his hands from seafaring and training with his trident were rough, but you didn’t mind. Finnick was always gentle in his touches, careful not to startle or press too harshly. There were few people you allowed to touch you after the traumatic events of your past, and combined with Finnick’s own touch aversions the two of you found peace in the gentleness of each other’s company.

You’re led upstairs into Finnick’s bedroom, his hand never leaving yours while guiding you over to the bed. The two of you comfortably settled beneath the covers as he pulled you close, your head resting on his chest listening to the steady cadence of his heartbeat, while soft featherlight touches drew lazy circles on the bare plush of your thigh hooked over his hip with calloused fingertips. Finnick’s other arm lay under your head, fingers traveling over the buzzed scruff at the nape of your neck and threading through the longer, soft and fluffy mess atop your head. He didn’t mind your shorter hair, rather enjoying playfully ruffling it every chance got and the way you melted into the touch when he threaded his fingers through it.

A content hum emits from your chest as the two of you tangle together in a pleasant embrace. “Home too scary again?” Finnick whispers into your hair. The dim lighting in the room from his bedside lamp gave everything a soft, golden glow that invited comfort and stability to your aching chest. “Yea…” you meekly respond, meeting those sea-green eyes and only finding compassion mixing with hints of worry. A small smile crosses the victor’s lips, dimples pressing into tanned cheeks, as he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. “s’okay Darling, I’ve got you, you’re safe here.”

You can’t help melting further into the male’s touch. Another content hum leaving your lips as you press ever closer to his chest. The warmth all but lulls you into a gentle sleep, Finnick’s ministrations through your hair adding to the welcome comfort. “m’ love you,” You murmur, words smothered by sleep and your cheek pressing to the male’s tanned chest. You felt safe again, perfectly content and relaxed in the victor’s arms, his almonds and honey aroma soaking into your senses in a pleasant warmth that had you nuzzling closer to his chest.

“I love you more Darling ~”

Finnick’s voice rumbles against your cheek through his chest, and he gives a gentle, reassuring squeeze to your thigh before the two of you settle into a comforting slumber.

It felt good to be home with him, to be safe, and cared for, and loved.

“m’ love you most,”

{{ tags }}

[post-maester]

I had a fucking wonderful conversation with a Director who is a trans woman today.

I originally responded to an ad of hers looking for a transfem video editor for a documentary about trans people, but I was several months late. I specifically responded knowing I may not get the gig, but I wanted to work with her on this project that I felt was so important. It was important to me as a person developing a career in film, it was important to me as a trans girl hoping to engage and give to a community I want to be a part of, it was important that a project get made that could help people like me figure out what the fuck is going on with their identities.

So I waited for a response. Eventually one came. We set up a meeting for this afternoon, and the conversation we had was euphoric. I was so anxious and in my own head about the whole thing, but when it came time to talk, I felt like I was unapologetically myself while talking to her. I didn't need to mask, or change how I behaved for her. I just was. It felt wonderful. I've never had that with another person before, I think.

We talked about film work, trans experience, and MOTHERFUCKING TTRPGs!!!!!!!!! She called me "girl" in conversation and that was butterflies in my tummy. When I mentioned I was only 3 months on HRT she unashamedly and excitedly exclaimed that my chest was going to start hurting soon, and that lack of timidity about the subject was so fucking refreshing.

She mentioned how she enjoyed taking on the role of teaching younger trans people and being motherly. I added that my friends say that I'm the same way, but that I don't really have someone to be that way for me. It was a strange feeling to realize mid-conversation that I may need something like that at all. I never felt like I wanted a motherly force in my life, but maybe as I find myself in femininity that's something I need. My husband can only do so much to help me, and he's not exactly the posterchild for this sort of thing.

Nearing the end of our conversation, she told me to keep in touch and ask any questions if I need. But then she mentioned that we could go to get our nails done together sometime soon (I'd mentioned my experience with hand/nail dysphoria from a few days ago). I shut down. I stared at my screen through to her silently for a moment. I then stuttered, trying to answer. She asked if I was okay and if she overstepped any boundaries. I admitted that I needed a moment to restart my brain. Then I explained that I don't have any feminine friends to do "girl stuff" with. I've never been able to before. The idea excited me beyond belief. I said yes emphatically. I almost started crying a little, to be completely honest.

We said goodbye, and I closed the call.

Im doing a little tiny cry now, I feel so fucking good. I feel so proud of myself for trying for this and sticking with it. Proud of myself for not canceling because of my anxiety. Proud of myself for allowing me to be me unapologetically with absolutely no fabrication for the pleasure or comfort of another person.

Writing this now in bed. No other plans until later tonight. That call took a lot of my energy. Time to rest.

Night night💜

[keeskiwi]

I had a transgenderization surgery 1 month ago and I got the clear to stop wearing my post-op binder yesterday, and I keep feeling the desire to write out my thoughts somewhere but not knowing where, and then I remembered tumblr is The transgender website, so, you know, why not.

I had a double incision top surgery on January 30th. It feels pretty surreal in some ways. I first started experimenting with gender things in late 2010, grabbed a binder from Underworks in 2011, then kind of coasted along in a state of "well, a haircut, name change, and some new clothes have been working out for me mostly well enough and my breasts aren't that big anyway and maybe it's not a big deal even though every year I'll research if I can make my insurance cover it just in case and daydream a bit about something horrible happening that would require my breasts to get removed, with a side of quietly burning with envy when I see someone else get medical care for their dysphoria." For. A while.

Late 2022 I finally decided I would bring it up with my doctor, and after over a year of horrible insurance wrangling I finally ended up with a consult in early January, and then suddenly they called me back and said they could squeeze me in by the end of the month.

January 30th I got up at early-o-clock, went to the hospital, met my surgery team, got knocked out, and woke up with a new chest. I'm really glad I didn't have to travel for surgery and was back home that evening. Between that and having two partners (one of whom has had top surgery himself) to care for me afterwards, I feel really grateful.

Anyway yeah, this was the most significant surgery I've had before. It was your standard double incision, although I opted to go without nipple grafts, for a couple reasons:

I had heard that nips were kind of tricky healing-wise, and as a health-anxiety-prone kind of person I didn't really need the extra fear of something going wrong there in my life.

Especially because I didn't have any particular attachment to the idea of nipples in the first place. Sometimes I wonder if this was an extension of wearing a vaguely skin-tone binder for the past decade+. Any time I saw myself with a flattened chest, it was without nipples, because they were being hidden by the binder ha.

Additionally, a thing I've struggled with wrt medical transition is that it often feels like the goal for my agab is to transition towards masculinity, and while I'm okay being mistaken as male (especially over being mistaken as female) it's actually kind of important to me that I'm...not male? Masculinity as gender neutrality is something that really irritates me. I'm not any flavor of trans guy. So going no-nips felt like a way to make a conscious change to my body that was perpendicular to the masculinity/femininity binary.

And finally, while exploring the concept I found out that some people really hate the idea of people transitioning to having nippleless chests, because to be human is to have nipples (I guess?) so removing your nipples was trying to remove yourself from humanity (I??? guess???) and while there's a LOT to unpack there, as someone with only a passing identification with the concept of humanity I found this appealing in a "don't threaten me with a good time" kind of way.

Maybe I'll just get tattoos of wasps there instead.

The first time I saw myself at my first post-op was like--my chest is covered in incisions and tape and dried blood and marker and swelling but somehow it was still the most comfortable and appealing thing I had ever seen, and I keep feeling kind of amazed? I think that I had been really focused on like, specific Things I Could Do Post-Top Surgery, like wearing better-fitting T-shirts or taking my shirt off during the summer when it was hot, and I didn't fully realize just how...good it would be just existing? At first I thought it was hyperbolic thinking, but the more I consider it the more I feel that I've spent more time voluntarily looking at and interacting with my chest in the past month than I have the whole rest of my life. Some of it was forced aftercare from the surgery of course, but I lose a bunch of time each day just getting caught in front of mirrors. I didn't realize that I could like the way I look under my clothing so much.

And things like, realizing I've been saying "my chest [euphemistic, regretful]" in regards to my breasts my whole life, so I keep wanting to say "I don't have a chest anymore"--but the thing is, I do! I do have a chest still, and "my chest" is now something I feel happy to claim because I got to choose it. It's a little ouchy and lumpy and at the moment it looks like someone taped poison ivy to it because my skin finally got sick of the surgery tape and staged a revolt, but it's still the best chest I've had in living memory, and it's only going to get better from here.

I'm just really happy.