#like even if i didn't have dysphoria my chest is still such a pain

[fagdykevash]

looking at the notes of that poll. god i wish that were me

[cocklessboy]

I see a lot of people saying that gender-affirming health care like top surgery for trans people like myself should be freely available (which is correct), but one of the reasons they often give is that top surgery is very safe and has a very low rate of complications compared to other surgeries. And I often see transphobes clutching their pearls over the few people who do have complications. What about them?! What if you're one of the unlucky ones?! Should we really let those transes risk it??!!!

Setting aside the fact that no one raises such concerns over other types of surgery, I'd like to use myself as an example for anyone who needs one.

In May of 2022 I had top surgery (double mastectomy). The surgery was done by a gynecological surgeon, not a plastic surgeon, because that way my insurance would cover it.

The surgeon did his job and removed the breast tissue, but he did not make it look pretty. I have dog-ears at both ends of both scars (extra bits of skin that hang off in a very unappealing fashion), my chest still looks unnaturally flat with no muscle or fat despite a lot of working out, and one of the stitches didn't heal properly and was left as an open wound through "secondary healing" for several months before it finally healed over into a very large scab (and eventually a very large scar). My nipples are uneven and irregular and look... well, just awful, really. Due to bad genetic luck, I wound up with keloid scars which, instead of getting smaller and lighter over time, have instead expanded, becoming thicker and darker. Worst of all, I now have chronic nerve pain in my chest. My GP thinks the surgeon must have hit a nerve during the procedure, and now I have random sharp pains all over my chest even now, nearly ten months later. The pain might improve with time, or it might not.

I basically had almost every possible complication one can have from this surgery short of infection or death. Some of the aesthetics might be fixable with more surgery (though plastic surgery will be expensive). Some are probably permanent. I might never feel comfortable taking my shirt off in public again. I might have to tattoo over the scars.

And pay attention to this next bit, because it's the most important part of this whole post: I do not regret the surgery. Even with all the complications and the ugly state of my chest and the pain. If someone said they could push a button and make it so that the surgery never happened and I'd have a perfect, unmarred chest with C-cup breasts again, I would tell them to take their button and fuck right off. Because even with basically the worst of all possible outcomes, that surgery was the best thing that ever happened to me.

I don't feel good about taking my shirt off in front of people now. I do think my chest is ugly. But it's a male chest now. When I put on a t-shirt, it rests flat against my chest. No one will ever mistake me for a woman again. I'll never have to wear a bra or binder ever again.

The dysphoria I felt from having breasts was so severe that a hideously scarred chest and chronic pain are vastly preferable. The euphoria I feel when I look in the mirror with a shirt on is something I never knew I was capable of feeling.

And it's my fucking body, and it's up to me what I do with it. If I wanted to tattoo myself from head to toe, or file my teeth into fangs, or have a doctor break my legs and surgically implant extensions to make me taller, that's my right because it's my body. The fact that all those things are regarded as basically acceptable (if a little weird), but I had to have a dehumanizing interview with an old cis psychiatrist who hates trans people and wants us all sterilized just to get a piece of paper giving me permission to have my tits removed, is fucking absurd.

Top surgery (of any kind) is generally very safe, and complications are rare. But even with the worst outcome, a trans person will basically never regret it.

And frankly, if a cis woman wants her tits cut off, or a cis man wants a pair of boobs to play with on his own chest, more power to them because literally who gives a fuck what people do to their own bodies? I saw a dude on TV when I was a kid who'd tattooed his whole body to look like a cat, filed his teeth into fangs, and had loads of plastic surgery to surgically implant whiskers and make his face look more feline. It was weird! But literally no one said that should be banned because he might regret it. It's his body to do whatever weird shit he wants with.

The next time someone clutches their pearls and kicks and screams about how you can't let someone permanently alter their body in a way they might regret, feel free to point to me and my complete and utter lack of regret.

(Or have a little fun with it, go hard in the other direction, and say you absolutely agree, which is why we should ban ALL non-emergency surgeries until the patient has been FULLY evaluated by three psychiatrists - along with tattoos and piercings. Oh, and ballet lessons for anyone under the age of 25, since ballet changes the structure of a child's body FOREVER.)

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

This morning, I'm so angry that I ever let all the TERF and transphobe talking points about top surgery scare me a bit. Because they're just so far off-base it's ridiculous. If you've ever gone to a TERF's blog to make sure you didn't just take a one-off comment out of context before blocking them, you probably know that fearmongering about top surgery is one of the big things they do.

They'll tell you that top surgery removes a "vital set of organs!!!!" and you'll be emotionally and hormonally unstable afterwards. They'll tell you that you'll have lifelong pain and suffering. They'll talk about how the surgery doesn't cure the ""underlying cause"" of simple unhappiness with your body in general.

And holy shit. I knew it was bullshit but until my surgery, I never knew how much of it was complete and utter horseshit. If I'm being charitable, I want to say that the reason they say these things is because they're assuming top surgery is a direct equivalent to a cancer-related double mastectomy, which ignores a lot of things, not least of all the fact that these double mastectomies statistically will usually happen to cis women who are not only deeply (and understandably) upset about it needing to happen to them but also dealing with cancer, a thing that famously makes you feel awful. It's perfectly reasonable for a woman to find her mastectomy traumatic for the reverse of the reason that trans guys need top surgery - it doesn't feel gender-affirming for women to have this part of their body removed, and that's painful.

But that's not what top surgery is like. Top surgery is a plastic surgery, not a surgery for cancer treatment. It's performed by plastic surgeons who know how to reshape your chest to give you a shape you'll love in a way that scars as little as possible and heals well. I cannot exagerrate enough that my top surgery itself was so much easier to heal from than I'd expected. I'm about two months out and my range of motion is completely 100% back to normal, with no pain at all, and I love the way my chest looks.

And my top surgery changed my life. Do I still have things I don't love about my body? Sure. We all do! But dysphoria felt different than these things, and this huge source of dysphoria is just gone. I love walking around my house shirtless now when I never did before! I'm more forgiving of even those things I still don't love about my body now, because I feel so much better overall! I hope everyone reading this who wants top surgery is able to get it as soon as possible, because it's absolutely amazing. My only regret is that I wasn't able to get it sooner.

[the-fiction-witch]

The Morning After P2

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Jacaerys Velaryon Couple - Jacaerys X Reader Reader - (OC) Princess Elaena (Daughter of Viserys and Alicent, Arranged Marriage) Rating - 15+ Word Count - 2032

Warning - discussions of body dysphoria / body hatred / low self-esteem

Requested -

oh shit 😦 .can we have a part 2 please xx

Jacaerys was momentarily stunned by her confession, his eyes widening at her words. He gently wrapped his arms around her, tightening his grip around her frame. "You didn't...? Even when I..." he asked, his voice low and filled with a hint of hurt and confusion.

Elaena shook her head "I... Was only afraid. And in pain"

Jacaerys's heart ached at her words, a pang of guilt and regret stabbing through his chest. He should've been more gentle, more patient. He gently stroked her hair, pulling her closer against him. "I'm sorry, Elaena. I'm sorry it hurt. I didn't want to hurt you... I didn't want you to be afraid." He cupped her face in his hands, looking deep into her eyes. "I shouldn't have pushed you so fast. I should've taken more time, gone slower. I just... I wanted you so badly. I still want you so badly."

"I just... I knew it would hurt. My mother told me so. I was so scared I wanted to cry ... But I know you had been so excited and I didn't want to deny you. I know our marriage had to be consummated and... I didn't want to deny you on our wedding night, or make you feel unhappy for not giving me pleasure."

Jacaeryl's heart ached with a mixture of guilt and tenderness at her words. He gently caresses her face, his touch gentle and soothing. "Elaena... I don't care about my own pleasure," he said, his voice soft and sincere. "I care about yours. I don't want you to just lie back and let it happen. I want you to be comfortable, and pleasured. I want you to enjoy it." Jacaeryl's heart ached with a mixture of guilt and tenderness at her words. His hands gently ran over her body, tracing the curves and contours beneath his palms. "I never want you to suffer for my sake, ever. If you're not ready, if you're not enjoying it - please, tell me. I don't want to hurt you."

"but... What if you are enjoying it?"

Jacaerys paused at her question, his hands stilling on her body as he pondered for a moment. His first instinct was to say that he would stop if she asked him to, but the thought of her bearing through it, letting him take pleasure while she suffered... He couldn't stomach it. "No," he said firmly. "I... I would rather suffer myself than cause you pain. If you're not enjoying it, if you want me to stop, I will. I promise."

she nodded "thank you jacaerys"

He gently cupped her face, his touch gentle and loving. He planted a soft kiss on her forehead, trying to convey his sincerity with his actions. "You don't have to thank me," he murmured. "It's what I should do. Your comfort and pleasure are important to me, and I don't ever want to hurt you like that again."

she nodded and laid her head on his chest still clutching her knees to her chest to conceal herself

Jacaerys wrapped his arms around her, holding her close against his chest, his hand rubbing gentle circles on her back. He felt her body against his, the heat and softness of her skin sending tingles through his body. He gently tilted her chin up so that she was looking at him, and his gaze softened. He gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and spoke, his voice low and soft. "You don't have to hide yourself, you know. You're beautiful."

she shook her head "I... I don't like... Being like this."

Jacaerys's eyebrows furrowed in confusion at her words, and he gently turned her body so that she was facing him, perched on his lap. He gently tucked her head beneath his chin, his arms wrapping firmly around her slender waist. "Like what?" he asked, his voice soft and curious.

"exposed..." She answered doing her best to conceal herself "I .. I don't like seeing myself. Or... Other people... Seeing me"

Jacaerys's heart ached at her words, a mixture of worry and sadness filling his chest. His hands gently caressed her back, rubbing soothing circles along her skin. "Why don't you like seeing yourself? Or having others see you?" he asked. "You are beautiful, Elaena. Your body is beautiful." He gently moved one hand up to cradle her face, his thumb gently stroking her cheek. "There's nothing bad about your body," he whispered. "It's perfect, just as it is. You don't have to hide from me. I love every part of you."

"b-but... ..." She rattled off every detail about herself all the things she didn’t like, but after a while clearly stopped herself before she completely ripped herself apart in front of him

All the while she spoke, Jacaerys's heart ached more and more with each word, as if he had been stabbed with a dagger. When she finished, he gently grasped her chin with his hand, making her look him in the eyes. His gaze was gentle but firm. "Stop," he said. "Just... Stop. You're describing yourself like you're a monster, when you're the exact opposite. You... You're perfect." he told her, "You have the most stunning eyes I've ever seen," he continued, his voice gentle yet firm. "You’re hair is so soft and sweet. And as for the rest... Your body is soft and warm, the most perfect thing I could possibly imagine. When I look at you, all I see is beauty." he explained true passion in his tone, "I love every inch of you, just the way you are. you're just... You." He leaned in, peppering soft kisses over her face. "Please, stop seeing yourself like this. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you."

"I don't understand how anyone could like... this." She said glancing down at her body,

Jacaerys gently took her hand in his, intertwining their fingers together. With his other hand, he gently caressed her skin, his touch soft and loving. "Do you know how incredibly beautiful this is?" he murmured. “My own little pillow,”

she scoffed out a little laugh

Jacaerys smiled at her little laugh, pleased that he could get even a small reaction from her. He continued to gently caress her, his hand gliding over the soft flesh in a gentle, soothing motion. "I'm serious," he said, his voice low and serious. "I love your body. I love feeling your body against mine. You're... Perfect." He leaned in, planting soft kisses along her neck and jawline, his lips gently grazing her skin. "You're soft and warm, and just the right size for my arms perfect for holding and cuddling," he murmured between kisses. "I don't ever want you to think that there's anything wrong with your body. You're perfect just the way you are."

"you wouldn't change it if you could?"

Jacaerys pulled back slightly, "Not in the slightest," he said firmly. "Why would I want to change anything about you? You're perfect exactly as you are. If I could change anything about you, it would be the way you see yourself. I want you to see yourself the way I see you - as beautiful, and desirable, and perfect in every way."

"I don't see myself like that... I just see ... Marshmallow"

Jacaerys chuckled softly at her words, his hand still gently caressing her stomach. "A marshmallow, huh? Well, you're the most beautiful marshmallow I've ever seen," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "And for the record, I love marshmallows. They're soft and sweet and perfect for cuddling."

she giggled

Jacaerys's heart skipped a beat at the sound of her giggle, a feeling of joy and tenderness washing over him. He continued to caress her stomach, his touch gentle and loving. He leaned in and planted a soft kiss on her shoulder, his lips lingering on her skin. "There's that beautiful sound," he murmured, his voice low and affectionate. "You should giggle more often." He continued to place soft kisses on her shoulder and neck, his hands roaming over her body, tracing over every curve and contour. He wanted to show her how beautiful and desirable he found her, through his words and his touch. He pulled her closer, his arms wrapping around her in a tight embrace. "I want to make you laugh and smile every day," he whispered, his lips brushing against her ear. "I want to see you happy and content in your own skin."

"... Perhaps you should just give me a new skin" she sighed

Jacaerys's expression darkened at her words, pain and frustration coursing through him at the way she spoke about herself. He pulled back slightly to look at her, his gaze intense and earnest. "You don't need a new skin," he said firmly. "You're perfect just the way you are. I don't want you to change anything, because there's nothing wrong with you. I just want you to see yourself the way I see you - beautiful and desirable and worthy of every bit of love and appreciation that you deserve." He gently grabbed her hand, lifting it up and placing it on his chest, right over his heart. The rhythm of his heartbeat was steady and strong, a steady beat beneath her palm. "Can you feel that?" he asked, his voice low and intense. "That's how you make me feel. My heart races every time I look at you, and every time I touch you. You're the most beautiful thing in the world to me, and I don't want you to ever forget that." His hand gently moved up to cup her face, his thumb tracing over her cheek. He pulled her closer, pressing his forehead to hers, their bodies flush together. "Please, Elaena," he said, his voice soft and earnest. "Don't talk about yourself like that. Don't think that you're anything less than perfect, because you're not. You're everything I could ever want or need. You're my world, my everything."

"... How your heart has such love for me... I don't understand it"

Jacaerys sighed softly, his fingers gently tracing over her cheeks, her jawline, her lips. "I don't know how to explain it," he admitted, his voice soft and sincere. "I just know that when I look at you, my heart swells with love and awe. You... You're everything I've ever wanted in a partner. Every time I look at you, my heart skips a beat, every time I touch you my skin tingles. I don't know why or how, I just know that I love you more than I've ever loved anyone or anything before."

she briefly smiled

Jacaerys felt a pang of sadness in his heart at the briefness of her smile, but he clung to it as a small victory. He continued to gently caress her face, his touch soft and gentle. He leaned in and planted a soft kiss on her forehead, wanting to convey all of the love and affection he felt for her in that one gesture. "Do you believe me when I say that I find you beautiful and perfect?" he asked, his voice low and earnest.

"... I... Believe that you believe that”

Jacaerys let out a soft sigh, a mix of frustration and sadness welling up inside of him. He wanted so badly for her to see herself the way he saw her, to realize her own beauty and worth. He gently wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close against his chest, holding her tight. "I wish you could see yourself through my eyes," he whispered. "You would see just how beautiful and perfect you are. You would understand just how much I love and desire you."

"no, then I'd have to take your pretty eyes out of your head"

"You would," he said, a hint of a smile in his voice. "And I would happily carve out my eyes and hand them over if it meant you saw yourself as I do,"

"Jacaerys?" She asked her hand stroking his hair softly almost frightened to touch him

Jacaerys gently leaned into her touch, his head tilting slightly to nuzzle into her hand. The feeling of her fingers softly stroking his hair sent a shiver down his spine, and he let out a contented sigh. "Yes, love?" he asked, his voice low and soft.

"... May... May I kiss you?"

[cyanomys]

Are there any other cis-identifying women out there who want to get top surgery? What is your experience?

Here's mine ...

Ah yes, June, Pride month, the time every year for me to ponder if the fact that I desperately want to cut my boobs off makes me trans....

But like!! I feel like a woman!! I just feel like a woman that doesn't have boobs!

Boobs were never part of my mental map of myself, they're like this unwanted limb that doesn't belong to me??

Obviously that's some kind of dysphoria but....I feel like a woman, or at least a sort of queer, gender-nonconforming woman. I am asexual (I think), so I want to say it could be related to that, but it feels reductive and incomplete as an explanation on its own.

In fact I am so certain I am a woman because I actually identified as trans nonbinary for a year and wore more masculine clothes and went by they/them because I thought that my chest dysphoria meant that must be the case, but I "detransitioned" because it didn't feel right (I am Not A TERF and very pro-enbies everywhere, it just was not me). Tbh I am significantly more secure in my identity now than I ever was before that time.

Also it fuckin sucks because binding is *literally* the worst possible thing for me, health wise. Makes my gerd, asthma, dizziness, and anxiety worse. I still wear light compression tops or tight sports bras a lot of days but can't tolerate it always. It's miserable.

And don't even get me started on how the hell I would pay for top surgery. Fat chance my insurance would cover it when I say I'm not trans and mine aren't even that huge to begin with so the typical reasons women get breast reductions (back pain etc) don't apply.

Wondering if anyone out there feels similarly.

[mxjackparker]

With all the propaganda and rhetoric against top surgery that "Gender Criticals" and general transphobes are spreading, here's some info on what top surgery was actually like for me, from surgery all through the healing process! (This post will include some images of drains and a little blood!)

I was diagnosed with gender dysphoria (which is necessary in the UK for surgery) around May 2020 and started testosterone February 2021, all through GenderCare. I got a letter from the gender therapist and a surgery referral from GenderGP and consulted with my surgeon then booked surgery for 14th Feb 2022.

I had to travel all the way to Manchester, on a coach that took many hours, and book a hotel. I raised surgery money via GoFundMe because despite being referred to (now closing) Tavistock GIC in early 2020, my appointment to even be assessed wouldn't have been for over 5 years.

I had a double incision top surgery (double mastectomy) on February 14th 2022 as scheduled! I woke up in a fairly minor amount of pain, still on painkillers from the surgery, with drains. As you can see, I was also so happy that probably made it hurt less!

My top surgery took a few hours. Pre-surgery, my chest size was a 32 H. That's a lot of tissue to be removing, and so I did end up with drains for the first 48 hours after surgery, though drains aren't used as broadly in the UK anymore and not by default.

I was discharged from the hospital the morning after my surgery (some people go home the day of, but I pre-arranged to stay overnight). I took no painkillers after surgery at any point during healing. I was up and walking around from the moment I left!

If you take painkillers, that may make you more fatigued and/or constipated, so those things are totally normal. If you need painkillers, you should absolutely take them - it's not a point of pride to suffer more than you need to. I didn't take any painkillers because I have a history of addiction to them. However, I found the pain entirely tolerable even despite the lack of medication.

The evening after I was released from the hospital, I was pacing my hotel room carrying my drains! Moving promotes healing and prevents blood clots. I was very hunched!

Directly after surgery I got to briefly see my chest, but not for long given that I needed to have the compression vest on! I didn't have too much swelling, so I could see what my chest actually looked like and was so excited. Once I got my drains out, I got to see it for longer!

The pain post-surgery was manageable. I had to bend forwards a little when walking so as not to pull on my stitches and make it hurt more, but I never took any painkillers and the pain was never intense enough to make me feel compelled to. I kept wearing my compression vest!

The drains were honestly the most painful part of the experience for me, and once they were out the most pain I felt was from my back from walking hunched forward. I wore the compression vest on and off for 2 weeks then abandoned it completely, because I had such little swelling.

3 weeks after surgery, I got my dressings off (except nipples). I could see the full scar. I told my surgeon I wanted scars that were mostly straight, and that combined with the size of my chest meant the scars needed to meet in the middle in a little triangle.

Everyone's scar shape is different, and you should talk to your surgeon about what you want. I didn't want semi-circle shape scars, because I wanted the scar to follow my pectorals so I'd have the option in the long-term of fading/medical tattooing and mostly hiding the scar.

3 weeks after top surgery, I was well-healed enough that I went into London for the Sex Work Strike and did a speech there! I was well-recovered by this point, though still fatigued. (A link to my speech if you're interested.)

Around a month, I took off the nipple dressing as instructed by my post-op nurse, and one was healed enough for no dressing but the other took about another week to be as healed. Healing isn't perfectly symmetrical.

Once all of my dressings were off and I was able to probably clean my nipples and scars, I got to see the full result of my chest. This is the thinnest my scars ever were, because they hadn't developed as scars yet - they were healed shut but weren't done scarring.

Once I was past a month of healing, all of the physical effects of top surgery had dissipated. I was no longer fatigued, my scars didn't hurt (though they did itch!), and I was in the secondary healing phase. My chest below the top of the nipple had minimal sensation.

I got phantom sensations, like water being poured over my chest, as the nerves reconnected. It wasn't painful, but it was weird! By month 2, I regained full sensation in most of my chest, with very little sensation on the scar and the skin directly between it and my nipples.

I have pretty much full sensation (including erotic sensation) in my nipples now. It's important to note: double incision almost always results in some loss of sensation, especially in the nipples. I'd have been fine with that, and this was an extra bonus for me!

This is my chest and scars 8 months after surgery.

And this is my chest now, just over 2 years after top surgery:

I'm very happy with how it looks, with how it feels, and I have zero regrets!

[justplainwhump]

Re-Ac

The aftermath of Bea's capture.

[Pet Safety Masterlist]

Content / warning: BBU setting, double agent caretaker, (short) recapture, very vaguely implied noncon, nightmares, guilt issues, hint at body dysphoria.

"Why did you tell her to do that?" Adrian pulled down the scarf covering his face and swiveled to face Marta. "Why? They'll hurt her. They'll - shit, Marta, you know what they'll do. Do you really think they'll give her back? They're fucking Re-ac, if the bounty on a runaway isn't high enough they'll just -"

"It's on you," Marta cut him off icily. "Why did you do that? Why did you even talk to the kid? Why did you need to go and care for him for fuck's sake? What if someone saw you? What if Bea hadn't been there?" She raised a finger to his chest and pushed him back. "You risked everything we have. You jeopardized your cover, our connection, our entire fucking operation."

"That's not -"

"I like Bea, Adrian. I do. I don't want to lose her. But if it's her or you, if it's one escaped pet or an asset deep in WRU management, making that call is ridiculously easy. And it's a call you should've made in the first place. Not between her and you, but that pet and you."

Adrian shook his head. "What the fuck? What kind of a person are you, Marta? You're in this to save pets. Bea is-"

"A hero. She is. And I will pray for her safe return. But she did the sane thing, Adri. She saved you. Your cover. You're not just one random pet lib guy any longer. Not just my baby brother. You're more. You're hope for dozens, you're hope to topple this fucking system. You're a spy, Adri." She pulled his phone from his back pocket and shoved it against his chest. "Fucking act like one. Call it in."

"What?"

"Your pet ran away, remember? You gotta be looking for her. Be convincing, and she might stand a chance."

---

When he finally fell asleep that night, Adrian dreamt of Eric. 

He tried to reach him, tell him he was sorry, tell him he missed him, but his voice was gone. Eric cocked his head, in the way all WRU pets did, polite and inviting, and not understanding anything at all.

When Adrian tried to reach out, his hand ran through thin air, Eric dissolving right under his grasp. "You're late," Eric's voice lingered, softly shifting into another. "You're late, Adrian Delgado."

He woke up covered in sweat, entangled in Bea's bedsheets.

It was 4:30.

He got up anyway, splashed cold water on his face and took the bike to work through the still hot night air. 

There was no report of her at the office.

Not when he arrived, not when he refreshed his mail, not after the next ten refreshes, not five minutes later.

He started to work eventually, a restless tremble to his hands. Sorting through reports, pictures, descriptions. 

He skipped lunch. It didn't stop his boss from standing in his door without knocking. "Hear you're having trouble with your bonus pet?"

"She ran." Adrian covered his face with a hand. "'Having trouble' is one way to put it. She's been perfect before."

"I offered you an upper on her conditioning."

"You offered me an upper on her bedroom specifics, Kelly." He sighed. "I can assure you, that wasn't the issue."

"Huh. Well. You look like shit."

"Well, I spent half the night looking for her. It's not like she was cheap."

She looked him down with a frown, before she pursed her lips and nodded. "Yeah. I'll place a call to Re-Ac. See if they can priorize the search."

Search. He had to keep himself from laughing out at the term. He'd seen the re-ac van speed off, with Bea in it. There was no search going on anywhere. The only thing going on was - no. No. He wouldn't let his mind wander down that path. 

Instead, he forced a pained smile on his lips and nodded to her.

"Thanks. I appreciate it."

---

The call came in the late evening. Adrian hadn't left the office building, kept himself busy with all sorts of case documentation and paperwork, until the letters and words on the screen had started dancing in front of his eyes. 

"PSI Delgado? You're lucky. Your pet was picked up by a re-ac team." The voice was cheerful.

Adrian didn't think there was any reason to be. Should he feel relieved? Probably. Re-Ac's reputation wasn't for nothing. They were brutal. Not every pet they picked up made it into their records. And not every pet that made it into the records came back the same. 

Twenty-six hours since he'd seen the van speed off. A lot could happen in twenty-six hours.

"PSI Delgado? Are you still there?"

"Yes," he hurried to say. "Yes, I'm here. Where… where is she? Where can I get her?"

—

He couldn't even remember the drive to the WRU facility some miles into the outskirts of town, far from the pretty, polished office building where he and most of administration were based. The facility was plain, hostile and maze-like, with low ceilings and white tiles. And even in the night heat still radiating from the desert around them, it was freezing inside. 

Bea wasn't wearing anything more than a plain white tee and black shorts anyway. There was a white bandage fixed over her eye, instead of the black eyepatch she'd had before. She was kneeling on the white tiles of a training room, hands open on her knees, back straight, gaze forward. Perfect position two, if not for the tiny shiver of her shoulders in the cold. Then again, it wasn't like WRU didn't want them to shiver.

Adrian caught himself, before he could rest his hands on the control room's mirrored glass in front of him. She couldn't even see him. 

"What did you do to her?"

The handler sprawled on the desk in the room pushed a button, and the glass turned opaque. "I gotta ask you some questions, before I can let her go. Make sure her attitude doesn't become a liability for the company."

Liability. Marta's voice echoed in his head. You can't let her become a liability, Adri.

He felt his fingernails dig into his palms in his pockets, and carefully unclenched his fists. Fuck. If anyone here was becoming a liability, he wagered, it was himself.

He decided to ignore the handler's words, just as the other man had Adrian's question. Still, he turned around to face him. 

"Where are her clothes?" Adrian's voice came out pressed. He didn't care.

"Burned." The handler shrugged. "She was picked up in man's clothes, must've gotten them on the streets somewhere."

"She didn't," Adrian replied flatly.

"She didn't?" The handler paused and flipped the tablet in his hands for Adrian to see. A photo. Bea, in front of a white wall, a huge bruise on the side of her face, her eyepatch loose, yet her gaze boring straight into the camera. 

Proud, Adrian thought, biting back sudden bile rising in his throat. Bea looked proud. 

"That?" The handler asked, gesturing at the photo her baggy work pants, the oversized band shirt. The clothes barely covered the fresh bruises blooming on her skin. 

Adrian shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling his fingers curl into fists again.

The handler tossed a plastic bag on the table, a ripped black piece of garment in it. 

"She was wearing a fucking binder underneath." He huffed. "You want to tell me that's the clothes you yourself put your Romantic in? Wow, Delgado, you've really got some issues, don't you?"

"Careful," Adrian said sharply. "Don't forget that I outrank you, handler. What I do with my Romantic is none of your business."

"Unless your property runs away and behaves like a little bitch." He smirked. "Then it is my business, and I must say, PSI Delgado, your little whore has no respect in her at all. How long has she been gone? She must've been in bad company."

"She's been gone for less than a day, actually." Adrian lifted his chin. There was no choice but to counter the implications head-on. "Her attitude is not on me though. It's all in her files. She's had trouble adjusting. Refurb messed with her conditioning."

"Interesting, though," the handler murmured, looking up at Adrian with a condescending smirk. "Given that you certainly both have the training and the tools at hand to work with pets that have an attitude."

"I'll work with her." Adrian's jaw clenched. "Now. I don't have all day. Can I take her?"

"I recommend handing her in for retraining." The man folded his arms and leaned back. "Next time we pick her up on the streets, we'll have to book her for obedience training anyway, you know that. Company policy."

"She won't run again."

"Not anytime soon, indeed," the handler confirmed smugly. "Her ankle is broken."

"You broke her ankle?" Adrian's gaze flew back to the opaque window.

"Not personally."

"Fuck you."

"Careful yourself, Delgado. You seem to forget what she is." He paused, eyes squinted. "Or do you forget, what you are?"

Adrian's teeth clenched. Internally, he started counting his breaths. "Sorry," he said at four, giving a disgruntled smile. "It's been a stressful time. It's different, being an owner instead of a handler. I hadn't expected her to run."

"Huh."

"Thank you." The words tasted like ash in his mouth. "For getting her back."

"For disciplining her?"

Adrian knew the tone. The question. The intent behind it. The man was a handler. Getting people to thank him for horrendous things was his profession. 

Adrian was losing this battle, big time. He had to let it happen. There was more at stake than his integrity.

"Yeah." Adrian's hands curled into fists, fingernails digging deep into his palms. "Thank you for that, too, Handler." He smiled, sharp as a knife's edge. "But I dare you to speak to me like to a trainee again. Keep that for your actual job. After all, might always be your name is drawn for a safety inspection. And PS is thorough."

"Yeah." He mirrored Adrian's tone, cold and cautious. "Of course."

"Now. Do I get my property back?"

"Of course, PSI Delgado." The handler got up and gestured towards the door. "Be my guest."

Adrian kept his steps measured as he walked out toward the training cell, knowing the handler was right behind him. 

He lifted his keycard to the reader, waiting for the little beep to acknowledge it worked. It should. PS was supposed to have access to all low and medium security areas in any facility. 

The door slid open with a hydraulic hiss. Bea pressed her forehead against the floor. Respect position. "Master," she whispered. Her voice was hoarse. Why, he wondered, and then banned the thought. They'd deal with everything, once they were back home. 

From up close, he could see the fresh bruises taking shape on her tanned skin. There was an elastic bandage around her ankle. It looked professionally taken care of, at least.

He didn't think he could handle talking to her. He addressed the other man, instead. "What do you think I'm going to do with a lame pet, Handler? Get her a crutch or two. I'm certainly not going to carry her."

He wanted to. Close his arms around her, lift her up, kiss her, carry her out of this place, to safety, to the end of the world.

But he wouldn't.

She'd just risked her life - her entire existence - to keep his cover. He'd had the much easier part in this. And yet he'd jeopardized it a dozen times in this conversation alone. 

He'd treat her like trash. He owed it to her. What a cruel fucking mess.

"Forgive me, Master."

"Shut up," he said roughly. "We'll deal with your misbehavior at home. Make sure this never happens again. And get up."

A crutch was tossed to the ground next to her, and with its help, Bea struggled to get to her feet. Her usual elegance was tainted with pain and exhaustion.

The handler clicked his tongue in disapproval, thumb hovering over the little controller in his hand.

"Give me that," Adrian said. "I'll take it."

"I thought PS said, shock collars on pets are illegal outside of WRU facilities."

"We do make exceptions." Adrian turned to him and reached out. The handler dropped the controller into his palm, and Adrian smiled. "In important cases."

By his side, he heard the crutch clatter to the ground, a muffled yelp from Bea. "Sir." She was on the ground again in respect position, shivering violently. Adrian stared at the controller. Had he accidentally-? No, it couldn't-

"Well, well." A deep voice mused behind him, cowboy boots clicking on the tiles. "I guess I wasn't important enough for Inspector Delgado then."

"Mr Donnell," the handler said, his face suddenly pale. "I'm sorry, haven't you been notified? That alarm we've send you must've been based on deprecated data. It wasn't one of your current ones. We-"

"It's alright," Jack Donnell said with a wide smile that didn't even try to reach his eyes. "I believe fate has brought me to the right place anyway."

----

-

pet safety tag list (ask to be added or removed!): @gottawhump @flowersarefreetherapy @whumplr-reader @highwaywhump @tauntedoctopuses

@pigeonwhumps @whumppsychology @labgrowndemon @whumpinggrounds @somewhumpyguy

@whumpzone @tragedyinblue @theelvishcowgirl @light-me-on-pyre @whumps-and-bumps

[avelera]

Headcanon: ADHD Hob and Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria

So I went down the rabbithole on ADHD and rejection sensitivity dysphoria (and found this lecture that legit made me tear up if you have or think you have ADHD, go listen to it here) and it got me thinking, as everything is wont to do, about Hob Gadling and how if he had ADHD, which I think there's lots of fun in-text hints at that at least allow that interpretation, what are some other ways that could manifest besides his ebullient and never-ending love of life in all its endless variety?

So as sufferers of ADHD know, it's not all fun and games. The flip side of living with a dopamine-starved brain that's always seeking out new experiences and seeing the world through that lens is that other emotions slam us hard too, like rejection sensitivity dysphoria aka, "the most minor criticism can feel like an actual knife in the chest, no I don't mean mildly bummed out, I mean full on fight-or-flight brain meltdown because someone told you a comma is in the wrong place in your manuscript (not that I'm speaking from personal experience yes it's that dumb)".

ANYWAY, so I'm thinking about Hob and RSD and specifically 1789.

Specifically the line, "It's just how it's done," referring to horrific practice of human trafficking and how Hob basically shrugs while, to his minor credit, looking suddenly uncomfortable and guilty, about the fact he actively profits from this industry, and the way he cringes in on himself when called out kinda seems to indicate that he knows it's a vile practice and isn't super comfortable with being reminded of his fact by someone he respects, like Dream.

A couple notes on that little exchange between Hob and Dream:

1 ) The face Ferdinand Kingsley-as-Hob makes in that moment is absolute textbook adult ADHD rejection sensitivity dysphoria. Namely, the point where you know criticism hits you like a knife in the heart, particularly from people you respect, and you just have to cover that flinch of literal physical pain with a careful poker face.

The way Hob's tone suddenly goes cold and with his very genteel, received-pronunciation manners he levels Dream with perhaps the closest he's ever come at this point to lashing out, "You're giving me advice...?"

I'm not saying that canonically it's RSD, or that neurotypical people don't suffer pain and disappointment when receiving disapproval, but to my eyes at least, Ferdie Hob takes Dream's comment very seriously, much more so than the comic counterpart did (who needed multiple nudges before he even realized what Dream was trying to tell him about getting out of the shipping business and still seemed a bit clueless about why Dream would want that or care by the end).

2 ) Going into proper headcanon territory, I personally chart Hob's journey from destitute to wealthy slave trader as the product of someone who stopped giving a shit about others after everything he suffered in the 1600s. To be perfectly clear, this is not a fucking excuse for it, it's an examination of motives.

Because technically, after everything Hob suffered in the 1600s, he could have emerged with more empathy for the plight of others. But clearly that didn't happen. From an entirely human motivation level, that leads me personally to the conclusion that since no one helped Hob when he was at his lowest (not even Dream, though I dearly wish it was otherwise and wrote extensively on what would have happened if he had) that led him to the belief, put simply, that fuck the world so long as he got his. Why should he care about anyone else if no one cared about him?

But to go back to the topic of this essay, RSD, there's an additional element to that theory on why and how Hob leaned into not giving a shit about others, and that missing factor from what's described above is the element of everyone is doing it. Specifically worded as, "It's just how it's done."

Another really fascinating lecture I listened to on ADHD talked about how the most common trauma reaction ADHDers have to their sense of rejection, shame, and guilt that comes the way our brains react to the world is by hiding. And that also got me thinking about 1789 Hob in this context.

Because Hob as we see him in 1589 is loud in his happiness. He's sitting there, bold as brass in the middle of the White Horse, showing off his wealth with a banquet, loudly declaiming about how he pretended to be his own son twice, worked in the Tudor shipyards (what would have been 50+ years before) and just how he spent the last 100 years working his way up to his knighthood. The man does not have an ounce of caution in him. But, he is also by far the happiest we ever see Hob (up until Dream ditches him in the middle of their date).

This is important because to my eyes, Hob is living openly and unashamed and with only the barest hint of caution typified by pretending to be his own son every couple decades. The way he describes his last 100 years sounds like an ADHD dream, basically getting a boat load of money from Caxton's printing press (basically the first tech startup unicorn of the modern era) and then running around wherever his interests took him where he also made money hand over fist, kept climbing, and eventually reached the point where he could purchase the acclaim and regard of a member of the (albeit minor) nobility. All of this after being born a peasant. That's just validation and money and prestige and getting to pursue your special interest and live as your authentic self all over the place. And I do mean authentic, Hob doesn't even seem particularly worried about talking openly in the White Horse about being 200+ years old, a strong case could be made that he's not that careful in his personal life either.

So anyway, Hob has this amazing century literally followed by the worst century imaginable, filled with the sort of horrors that can tear a man's soul asunder. Losing his family, his beloved wife in childbirth with their new baby, his adult son, his home, his money, everything he spent a century building. His title and name are gone too because of the nature of how he lost it with the accusation of witch craft, which also means he can't just fake being his own son again to get it all back because they're explicitly going to notice that this time.

And how did this all happen? Because Hob got noticed. He lived there 40 years, overconfident is his own words. Which is a wild thing to say about a bunch of witch hunters showing up at his door! He blames himself for being drowned as a witch. On the one hand, I imagine he has to think that way because otherwise he has to admit to the sheer brutal randomness of life, so in a way he's trying to take control of the narrative by blaming himself.

But it also smacks of ADHD again because ADHDers very commonly shift the blame onto themselves after years of their unique nervous system response making them a round peg in a square hole of wider society. We learn over and over that the mistakes we make are our fault, because of "laziness" or "apathy" which isn't apathy at all but deep agony over our inability to accomplish tasks in a neurotypical way without the support we need, but I digress. But it sure sounds like Hob may have been paralyzed by grief for literal decades and then blamed himself for not getting the mental spoons together in that context to move on and reinvent his life after losing his wife and child. Which would be a very ADHD thing to do.

So after this absolutely brutal smackdown by reality for living too openly, too loud, too ADHD, getting paralyzed by the powerful emotions he felt (if we follow the headcanon) over the grief and loss in his life, what is Hob's next step?

Hiding.

Blending in.

Not rocking the boat.

And again, not excusing it, there's plenty of other industries he could have gone into to blend in that didn't involve human trafficking. That said, if he went to sea, which we know Hob did on many occasions from the comic, it would be seen by his peers there at sea as a normal way to make one's fortune, and then.... well, we have as evidence that this is his current peer-group the sort-of pride with which Hob announces how he's making his fortune these days in the "shipping business", as if he's expecting Dream's approval.

That to me, reads a bit like the people pleaser/social chameleon aspect of ADHD. Hob is expecting to be praised for being successful by Dream the way he would likely be praised by his peers in the shipping business or among the wealthy privileged men of England. He's so steeped in that world now that he's clearly taken aback when Dream takes the (at the time more radical but not uncommon) stance of, "This is wrong."

And Hob knew it. But he was blending in. He was going along with how things are done. He wasn't rocking the boat. He has other hints at trauma responses too, "salting money around the world" in case there's political upheaval, for example. This is not the loud, boisterous Sir Robert Gadlen untouched by loss or trauma. He has been humbled and tempered and, indeed, made afraid by what happened to him.

This sort of wild swing towards protectiveness? Again, also ADHD. As the lecturer I linked first noted, ADHDers are textbook defenders. They are always defending themselves from the world that can suddenly, unexpectedly, plant a knife in their heart because of a perceived rejection. From a world that wants their brain to work in a way it doesn't, so they have to come up with myriad painful coping mechanisms to fit in, blend in, mask, and function. Hob was forced to protect himself after the 1600s, so he did, with money, and with not caring about other people, and with insulating himself from privilege, and becoming a social chameleon.

1589 Hob tries to earn back Dream's interest, but he doesn't fawn. Dream shows interest in Shaxberd and Hob, already starting to get irritated, tells him no, Shaxberd is crap.

And you can tell in 1789 that Hob is thinking about that day again when he gets Dream's disapproval, because who does he reference? That lad, Will Shaxberd. He's fearing rejection and abandonment again, or at least it's crossed his mind after Dream's admonishment. But this time, Hob is fawning more, very nearly flirting. He's trying to play the game better this time, trying to keep Dream's interest, social chameleoning the subject onto safer topics, things he thinks will interest Dream, as Shaxberd so clearly did, so let's talk about him if that's what you care about. Again, another ADHD social chameleon, people pleaser aspect. We are nervous empaths, we are constantly picking up a bazillion signals both real and imagined. And we're so fucking terrified of that RSD knife in the heart, we become people pleasers to avoid it. After the shipping business brag fell through, Hob pivots to talking about Dream and what, in his experience, Dream seems to like and talk about favorably.

So anyway, many many ADHD-esque rambling words later, there's a few more little details I'd add to the list of "possible ADHD behavior, not just the fun parts" for Hob Gadling. Is it canon? Maybe not. But it does make for a great headcanon, in my opinion.

[boydykedevo]

anyway my trans Devo headcanons:

He got a tonewheel for his birthday when he was 16, and that's where he learned what being queer was from Seldom's broadcasts. He identified as a lesbian pretty strongly for a while, but he always kinda knew that wasn't quite it. He was 17ish when he finally admitted to himself he was trans. (and once he started perceiving himself as a man more often, he realized he was bi -- he just hated the idea of being with a guy as a girl)

He's not a binary/monogender trans guy. BUT he is in heavy denial about it. He'll get there eventually...

Seldom gave him guy's clothes when he came to his school, but they're all very basic and colorless and boring. He was never a big fan of them. He didn't really come into his own with masculine presentation until Nermal's Pile; she lets him try out whatever he wants. He's still kinda feeling things out, but he's way happier and has a lot more fun with it now.

Hair length isn't strongly gendered in Founders' Wake, it’s more tied to practicality. Guidance always kept his at shoulder-length and never let him change it at all. He was growing it out after leaving, but after confronting Orlean in the infinite clam he had a breakdown and chopped it all off. Amber helped him tidy it up and he's kept it short ever since.

There's some sort of magic HRT in Founders Wake, but since magic is rationed he hasn't gotten on it yet. Seldom was helping him with it; he's on a waiting list.

His chest dysphoria used to be a lot worse, he did a lot of unsafe homemade binding back at the parish, which gave him chronic back pain. Seldom convinced him to stop and got him a proper binder. Even that he can't wear too often cuz of his pain. It sucked a lot at first, but he's started to make peace with his chest and his dysphoria isn't quite as bad. He still binds more than he probably should though.

He has a decent amount of bottom dysphoria, he packs pretty much constantly.

The name Damian is the one he first picked out when he was accepting himself, as a replacement for his birth name (not Devotion, the Cern one). But he started to really hate being called Devotion, and Devo was something he could spin as a nickname without raising suspicion. Guidance hated it and told people not to use it, but at least a few people did, so when it came time to pick a new name, he was attached enough to it he went with that instead of Damian Cern (also cuz his relationship with the Cerns is. complicated.)

(The Cerns do call him Damian, but Tolliver had no idea, he isn't exactly a part of family dinner. Last he heard he had some little sister who he’d never met. So when Devo was like "my real name is... Damian Cern" Tolliver's response was a cover for him internally going "what the fuck what the fuck since when do i have a relative named Damian hold on????? did i forget a cousin or something????????? oh my god this is humiliating" Devo does not clarify and Tolliver is too proud to admit to not knowing so it's a good couple weeks after that when he finally learns how exactly theyre related)

[wiltkingart]

Hey, I just wanted to let you know that your trans Leon art has significantly changed my life. Being able to look at his body and see just a cool guy chilling has let me look at myself in a different way and start to respect myself more. It's massively helped with dysphoria and I don't shower with the light off any more or get so frustrated when I look in a mirror. I didn't realise how much I needed to see art like this to understand myself more, so I wanted to let you know that this is one of the most important pieces of art to me and has made my life so much better. Thank you for making it.

hey. i've been trying to come up for a response to this, because this is something that is so far from what i expected when i started drawing this kind of stuff. those trans leons were especially impulsive and driven by personal need. knowing that they've had such a big impact on you and others is... i don't have the words. i'm still grappling with the reality of it. and it kind of makes me want to cry.

honestly i was in a bad place when i started drawing non op chests. i had to stop binding a long time ago because of rib pain (even though i thought i was doing it safely and wearing the right sizes) and about 7ish years later i still can't wear anything with a wire or elastic that goes over that rib. so no sports bras or bralettes or binders for me. i've been free balling this whole time letting those beasts hang and i won't lie and say it's always been easy because it wasn't, especially in the beginning. but my art of these bodies has been my stubborn way of clinging onto a confident and comfortable and joyful existence that i believe is possible. it's the life that i wanted for myself; for trans men to be able to exist with visible chests and still be seen as men. for me to be able to exist with my chest and still feel like a man. and i'm in a much, much better place now because of it. these days i can actually see a future for myself, living as a guy with my tits in both hands, in peace and harmony and all that. my art is no longer an idyllic dream or a stubborn, desperate wish, but my truth. i'm living in it. and it makes me astronomically happy knowing it has helped other trans guys feel this way too. we're deserving of this. stay strong brother <3

[panaeolus-fimicola]

3) You had top surgery? Out of curiosity did you have dysphoria beforehand? Do you regret it now? I’m sorry if you do.

firstly, sorry this answer was a bit later, wasn't sure how long it should be. i'm settling on 3 paragraphs, 2 of them under a read more. thank you btw for asking these questions without mocking me for transitioning <3 (/genuine)

yes, i had a double incision double mastectomy, about a month after i turned 17. i had dysphoria beforehand and still do. i regret it to the core of my being, especially the order things went, surgery before hormones. and i did that to myself before i could vote, before i even graduated high school. it has repercussions for the rest of my life, many of which i hadn't conceived of or given real consideration to, because i thought, "why should i? no one ever regrets this, and i AM trans. i am not a girl. i don't want to be a woman." i wanted to kill myself because of my breasts, i hated, hated how large they were and how they attracted male attention. i wanted to try just going smaller, to an A or B cup, that i could easily hide, but the only options presented to me were full removal or staying where i was after a reduction, which was still big. i remember breaking down crying when i went to get fitted for a bra after the reduction, when she said what size i was. more regret aspects + discussion of reconstruction options below vvv

another part of why i regret it, is that i have numbness on my chest now and other nerve issues, like itching under my skin, and sometimes pains. i never had these issues before mastectomy. i regret it because it didn't make my bare chest look male or male-passing, it made my chest look unnatural and clearly altered. it made my body actually look 'wrong'. and one of the really sick parts? the discomfort and dysphoria i felt once i really started passing. i was scared that i was making women uncomfortable because even just my voice was not clearly recognizable as female, except to other people familiar with transition. and i regret it because i made that choice before i could even truly understand what i was doing, i hadn't even been evaluated for autism when i transitioned.

the options for reconstruction suck. all more surgery, more damage done to my body, in pursuit of something purely cosmetic. as it stands, i will never have real breasts again. i can have pure fat mounds harvested by violently jabbing me elsewhere (liposuction/fat transfer), with good potential to cause more numbness, i can have plastic implants under my skin, or i can have huge flaps of my skin, fat, and muscle taken from elsewhere on my body and sewn together on my chest to look like breasts. all of those options sound hellish to me, and none of them would even properly restore what's lost. my options to change my voice are training (which would still be artificial) or surgery that could make me permanently lose my voice. in the end i don't need to do anything more to my body to be a woman, i don't need to pass as a woman because i just am one. though it would be nice to not feel so painfully disconnected from so many women, and not worry about being mistaken for male when i need to use a public restroom.

[squarebracketsmileyface]

will Tim chest/breastfeed Birdie? apologies if its a weird question, i just was wondering if there were reasons Tim hasn't gotten top surgery (or at least not yet) other than he either just chose not to/can't afford it at the moment. and i confess, something about seahorse dads/gnc birth parents feeding their babies the old fashioned way just makes my heart happy :D

Not a weird question at all :D

Tim during MH/S,IL currently doesn't have top surgery because he can't afford it and because he wouldn't be able to heal it properly if he could afford it. He's very aware of how the whole "masked state" thing could impact healing a surgery like that. Masky kinda does whatever he wants and Tim knows that "whatever he wants" usually doesnt include going to A&E or whatever when hes injured (broken leg incident, my headcanon is that Tim had to get that leg rebroken and set properly at some point because it healed wrong and left him with chronic pain and a limp, tho I haven't mentioned that in S,IL lol, it's just in my head constantly).

Also I guess medical trauma would have at least some role to play in the decision too currently? Later on he'd probably work through some of that, but currently he's probably not comfortable with much more medical treatment than just seeing his GP. Like, going to A&E or into an actual hospital isn't something he'll completely refuse to do, but it definitely puts him in a very specific and traumatized state of mind. Maybe even triggers Masky to front and Masky's way to fix that feeling of "oh god oh god oh god this is just like when we were a kid" is to simply leave no matter how important it was for them to be there 💀

But yeah! :D

he'd chest feed Birdie, since he's definitely not having top surgery between December 2013 and May 2014. I think he'd probably wait until Birdie was able to look after herself before he has top surgery, since he is a single dad until Birdie is like, 10ish, and top surgery does require you to rest a lot to recover from. Sure he's made a few friends in the pickup line at Birdie's school, but none of them he'd call close enough to ask for that sort of help from. And he's not in contact with his mum and doesn't have a dad, so he can't even ask for help from them, he's completely on his own unfortunately.

So honestly if Brian didn't come back into his life when Birdie was 10, he'd probably be waiting until Birdie was at least sorta 18 ish before he got top surgery, so he'd know she'd be okay and he'd also be able to rely on her to help him a bit after surgery, like, driving him home from the hospital after surgery and all that stuff. Thankfully Brian does come back into his life though so I'm thinking he probably has top surgery when Birdie's maybe 12-14ish? Something like that? Once Brian's properly established in their lives and Tim knows he's not going anywhere and they've reconnected fully so he feels comfortable asking for that kind of support from Brian. Obviously that still has it's own difficulties what with Brian being in a wheelchair, but they make it work, and I do think Brian would have an adaptive vehicle with have controls so he can drive and stuff.

I also love seahorse dads and GNC parents chest feeding and stuff like that, just, trans parents in general, y'know? It's just such a fuck you to society, especially a transphobic society and a society that doesn't expect fathers to be as involved in the care of their children as it expects mothers to. Tim being a single dad is already a great big middle finger to that stupid narrative of dads not being involved in childcare, and then him also being so involved in feeding Birdie as a baby too, idk, there's just something special about it to me.

I feel like chest feeding would definitely be something he finds kinda conflicting, like, he loves it because that's his baby he's looking after, but also I think it'd bring him a very specific brand of dysphoria so he really struggles with it mentally too. He definitely wouldn't end up chest feeding Jesse (his theoretical kid with Brian) later down the line. Mostly because I feel like at that point he'd have had top surgery and idk if you can still chest feed after that, I'm assuming no though, but also because even if he hadn't had top surgery, the dysphoria the first time just wouldn't be something he'd wanna have to deal with again, yknow? It was awful and he really really struggled with it, so it's not something he wants to put himself through again.

But yeah :D

[perplexingluciddreams]

I ask because it could be either: do you say you are a transsexual because of language borrowing, or because it feels more right to you than transgender--I also relate to transsexual, so I thought I would ask

A bit of both I think.

Transgender definitely doesn't feel right. I don't like the tactile-ness or shape of the word. And I think because I feel different and have different experiences of gender and sex than what seems a lot of trans people... it feels wrong to use that same word that is used by majority group.

My experiences of gender and sex definitely fall outside of the "norm". I am not typical. But I also have never found anyone else who is same or even much similar to me, with gender experiences.

Transsexual definition feels a tiny bit closer. One of the main changes I want to make is my chest. And that is a sex change category thing, not gender change category thing. However, I am also happy as being female. I am not upset at being called female or being apart of female group. (I think I mainly use the word transsexual because I prefer the tactile-ness and shape of it).

(Oversimplifying sex (and gender a bit too) here, I know it is not as black and white as binary male female. But this is what I understood growing up and until very recently learning more about intersex from here on tumblr.)

Never felt like I should be grouped with boys as a kid, always felt comfortable and fine grouped with other girls in school and stuff. And I say "other girls" because for me, by default I was a girl growing up. Everyone called me as a girl, and I didn't have ability to put words to myself yet. So by default I was what words everyone called me as. And by default I was part of whatever group other people decided to put me in. Due to that, I had experience of growing up as a girl. Disabled girl, yes, which hugely impacts overall experience - I knew I was different from everyone else no matter about gender - but still girl.

I often nowadays call myself a boy. I like the word boy. And I have my own definition in my head that is just the Ezra version of "boy". I don't think of myself as part of overall boy "category" or group. I don't fit in there. I also don't fit in with girl category/group. But feel a bit more comfortable be automatic put in that category because I am used to that, it is familiar.

Socially, I don't fit in anywhere. Not only due to gender. Gender-wise, I don't feel that I fit in anywhere. I am on the outside of everything.

For my transition, a lot of parts that seem like gender-related-stuff is actually mostly explained by other reasons (sometimes with gender as smaller sub-reason, or as positive side effect, or not at all related).

For example: name change is because birth name was very connected to trauma, and also changing name means I feel more connected with it and more in control. Mum helped pick name! Masculine name is just because I like it and it feels right to me. Basically same story with change of pronouns. (Here is gender as sub-reason and positive side effect).

Even the fact that I want my chest removed/dramatically reduced - this is in big majority part due to physical discomfort and pain. Due to sensory issues, chronic pain, hypotonia and muscle weakness, and more. I do have some dysphoria around my chest. But mostly about how huge it is. (Here, gender is small sub-reason, and it would receive positive side effect of top surgery or dramatic breast reduction. But big majority reason for need this is the physical - sensory and discomfort and pain).

As for other physical traits... I feel very neutral. I like some parts of my body. Other parts I feel completely neutral, no bother. I only really care if something causes me physical/sensory discomfort or pain.

Due to disabilities, I am not aware of how the entire of me really looks like. And especially not aware of how anyone else would perceive me. Or how they might mentally categorise me based on my appearance/presentation. So I almost completely miss out on that aspect of dysphoria that I see lots of people describe.

I occasionally start to think hypotheticals and wonder what is in someone else's head when they see me. Mainly that is around anxiety about be judged or mocked for visible disabilities - because I have had that a lot in my childhood. And realistically, my disabilities is the (probably, most likely) first thing anyone will notice when looking at me. I do sometimes wonder how someone else sees me gender-wise... but always come to the conclusion that I just can't know, I don't have enough awareness.

But I still get conflicting feelings about it all. And I just have a lot of confusion about gender and sex and my feelings about them, all the time. I struggle a lot to identify and understand my own feelings. And with this topic I know I feel a lot of complex things.

I think I might never really fully figure it out or be able to explain it to someone. Especially not in only one or few words. So the words is a really hard part of that.

My experiences are very very very coloured by my disabilities. My disabilities affect my perception and comprehension of gender and sex overall. I suspect that some of my feelings is directly caused by my autism. My experience of gender is completely entwined with being as disabled as I am.

Whenever I have these thoughts spinning around in my head, I always come to the same final conclusion: Even if I never find any other words to label or describe or explain... it doesn't matter so much. Because most of all, I am just me, just Ezra.

I did quite a ramble here! I hope I answered your question in there somewhere. Have a nice day/night/whatever time it is for you! 😊👍

[autisticwriterblog]

Welcome to: gender thoughts and worrying with Riley

Putting this under a cut because it's all about gender dysphoria, my thoughts about potentially starting HRT, transphobia and misgendering, and also some pretty TMI details.

Okay, so I've been comfortable describing myself as a transmasc person, or a NB trans man. Something very man-adjacent. And I'm happy with he/they pronouns (although I wish my family would use he/him more often - but that sounds ungrateful because I'm so glad they all got used to they/them, even my grandparents). Basically, I'm comfortable in my gender. But I sometimes wonder if I want my body to be different.

Top surgery was, without exaggeration, one of the best things that ever happened to me. I'm so much happier in myself, I can actually look at myself shirtless now, and I love touching my scars and seeing my flat chest under my shirts. I love everything about it.

But it sometimes doesn't feel like enough. I worry that everyone still views me as a girl who just cut her tits off. I met my aunt's boyfriend and within five minutes, he was talking to my aunt and said, "I was just asking Riley what sort of video games she likes." And I was sitting there in my clothes from the men's department and my buzz cut hair and my pretty androgynous appearance (I've naturally got a deeper voice for someone AFAB, I'm not that short and I have big feet, and I have a bit of very dark facial hair on my upper lip that the women in my family all pluck or bleach because they're self conscious about it, but I like it) and as I said above, my flat fucking chest under my POTF T-shirt. And yet he she/her'd me and it infuriated me. I clearly can't pass well enough to fool even someone who never met me before I came out.

(Side note: I really don't like the guy. He's a conspiracy theorist weirdo and he misgendered my aunt's god-son (not actually their relationship but it's easier to explain this way) multiple times and it was so fucking awkward. He kept asking about this couple's 'daughter' and I said "X and Y don't have a daughter" and he still kept doing it. Fucking prick.)

Anyway, this whole thing got me thinking about T again. I've always said I don't want it because you can't pick and choose what it'll give you. And for example, whilst I'd love my voice to be deeper and facial hair sounds pretty rad, I'm really not sure about the going through puberty all over again thing and there's a chance I'd lose my hair and I don't want that, and I'm 50/50 on if bottom growth would be an improvement or not. So, yeah, I always ruled it out.

But... I want to pass. I want to be read androgynous or masc, not just a butch woman. And I really think some parts of T would help. And who knows? Maybe I would like bottom growth? Who fucking knows. I'm already dysphoric about my genitals, so even though I mentioned worrying about that above, I'm not sure bottom growth could make things worse for me down there. I'm also a bit concerned about libido increase, but it's actually already been up recently since I got my first crush and I'm learning to deal with it. Plus, I did experience some of that during puberty and I survived.

Oh, and the hysterectomy thing is very likely to fall through because my doctor is fatphobic, so I'm kinda fucked about my painful periods for ages. But for a lot of people, T weakens or even stops their periods. And I keep thinking about how if that happened to me, it'd possibly solve my period dysphoria problem without having to pay £8000 for private surgery (because the NHS would never do it), assuming that my doctor would even do it even though he said he didn't have a fucking weight limit when I fucking paid £200 for a consultation. But I'm getting off topic.

Plus, I'm an impulsive person who changes his mind really easily, so my anxiety is being bitch and making me think "what if I regret it?!" even though that almost never happens and it's a fucking TERF talking point in my country. I don't even know what I'm trying to say anymore.

But the biggest part is... I live with my parents and I need help with a lot of things bc autism (I can't drive or go anywhere on my own and I need help with phone calls and all sorts of shit that mean I'm never going to be independent), so if they had a problem with me taking T for whatever reason, I'd be fucked. They've always been supportive and say that they'll help me with whatever as long as it makes me happy... but what if me taking hormones would be a step too far for them? My dad still hasn't seen me shirtless and I worry it's because he still thinks I'm a girl. So he might freak out. Or maybe my mum would and that would hurt even more because she's the person I love most in the world and I wouldn't want her to hate me.

I just get scared of everything. And I want to be happy and I wonder sometimes if hormones would help. Or if even bringing up the topic with my family would make everything fall apart.

[sandandstarz]

Love You No Matter What

Daryl Dixon x Transmasc!Reader

Warnings: Slight angst, dysphoria, unsafe binding methods, mentions of transphobia? Reader being insecure, horribly written southern accent, ooc daryl? sorry this is kinda bad

Sorry about this being kinda rushed I just had the idea and wanted to wright smth self indulgent.

The hot Georgia sun beamed down onto the broad shoulders of the man next to you, beads of sweat forming on the flexing muscles of Daryl's arms. Your eyes unfocusing from the fence of a pigpen you two were working on guiding to admire him, they trailed up from his arms to the collar of his worn tank top. The fraying seams giving way to his neck and the edges of his unruly dark hair, all the way up to his stormy eyes.

Slightly shaking your head, you tried to concentrate on the task and hand to get out of this heat as soon as possible, and not on the captivating sight of your boyfriend.

You had harbored feelings for the southern man since the second he pulled you away from a herd of walkers at the quarry camp. He had felt the same way, enthralled by the way your eyes caught the sun rays like stained glass, the small scars that littered you like the words on a novel and, he could have gone on forever, but he would never admit out loud. It hasn't been till the fall of the CDC that you both truly realized your feelings for each other were mutual. From that point on you had an unspoken bond, not a label, it didn't matter in the apocalypse, but you were together, a packaged deal.  After sleepless nights on the road, the scare of his brush with death at the farm and whispered conversations in your shared cell in the prison walls, you and Daryl were nothing if not in love. Yet out here in the striking heat of the prison courtyard, a spike of pain from your ribs right under the tightly wound bandages of your chest was a stark reminder of the one thing you were too scared to divulge to the man who knew everything about you.

The fence finally completed, rose to his feet, offering on hand to help you and your accompanying tools up with him.

"Y'all right there?" his southern drawls laced with a hint of worry and you wobbled a bit on your feet.

"It's nothin', just lost my balance a bit" you smiled at him, a bit of a laugh in your voice as you saw the way his bangs stuck to his sweat covered forehead in a heart pattern.

"Good, can't have yeh' gettin sick out here cus of some bastard sun" He placed the tools into his own hands and you two trudged up the hill the cold prison walls. Just imagining the cool stone and water that waited for you there was putting a pep in your step.

Entering your shared cell you flop onto the bed, arms stretched above your head to relieve some of the pressure on your shoulders after the day's work as the taller man beside you goes to lay next to you. Even though you love him with all your heart you still throw the pillow at his face.

“Shower first dirt man”

He shoots you a mock offended look before giving you a kiss anyway, and heading on his way to the showers.

“The things i do for you” You can hear his slightly annoyed tone under his breath as he leaves and you smile.

Now alone in the makeshift room that is the prison cell you close the curtain in front of the barred doors as some sort of privacy. Peeling your shirt off slowly the bandages you had been using since the beginning of the end wound tightly around your chest where now revealed. Angry red marks peaked from tier edges as you tried your best to ignore their stinging. Untying the knot of the bandage gingerly you began to unwrap the cloth, each time relieving a bit of the pressure on your ribs but increasing that feeling of dysphoria uneasiness that settled in your stomach. It was slow, each layer of bandages painstakingly unraveling into your hands. Too focused on the task at hand the heavy footsteps growing closer in the prison hallway reminded you of the unknown to you, until the jerk of the curtain being pulled aside brought you back into reality. Holding the portion of unraveled cloth close to your still bound chess you stared into Daryl’s eyes like a deer in headlights.

His dark hair still dripping slightly onto his threadbare tank top, his eyes raked over you in worry, quickly approaching you even as you began to startle back, there was slight anger in his gaze as well, scaring you even more than he had startled you.

“Y/n wha’ happened” His voice was stern with the slight hint of fear he had used anytime you were injured.

“Did this happen on the last run? We gotta get you to Dr. S” He again walked over to reach for you, not understanding the way you slightly cowered with your arms firmly gripping your upper torso.

“Daryl I'm not, I'm not hurt it ok, dont worry Im fine '' The words stumbled out of your mouth with a tint of fear and uncertainty you'd never used with him.

“You got bandaged coverin half your body can you expect me not to’think your hurt!” His tone raised slightly and you knew he was worried, but you couldn't tell him, you didn't know how.

Your eyes started to wet as you sunk to the floor, you were strong, you always were, but with this it felt like a hit to the back of your knees. You could almost feel the hesitation and concern on his face when he knelt down next to you. 

Daryl was never good at comforting people, but seeing you on the verge of tears he was trying his best. Your body stiffened slightly when one of his strong arms wrapped around your back, but you melted into his touch quickly as his rough voice spoke with a softness barely anyone had heard.

“S’alright sweetheart, m’sorry for yellin” Your brain almost couldnt for the words to tell him it wasn't his fault, he had done nothing.

“D, it isn't that” Your voice wavered in the conversation you were starting.

“I really ain't hurt, it's just..” Trailing off your words got caught in your throat, it was almost petrifying. You knew Daryl, you knew he was accepting, that he would do anything for you, but that fear of rejection’s grip was tight on your heart. The confused tone in his voice was evident as he ushered you to go on.

“I wasn't born like you,

like a man”

The words escaped your throat, strangled and painful, shaking at the thought that this could be it, he wouldn't be ok with it, it would be the end of everything you've fought so hard to build together. 

“Oh sweetheart” His voice was softer than you anticipated, his calloused hand holding your face up with a touch gentler than a down pillow. Your teary eyes met his stormy blue ones and you could almost see every emotion, every unsend word, every feeling he held onto behind them. Your faces close, he sounded almost like a whisper.

“That ain't stoppin’ me from loving yeah” You could have died happy right there, tears breaching the border of your eyelashes and flowing down your face, your lips formed into a smile, it was ok, he was ok with it, he's not mad.

Daryl's gaze turned to worry at your sudden crying but your hands not matching his own on your face you lips met. The closest you could have been to your hearts being connected the kiss was soft and passionate and you couldn't have thought of a better outcome.

Fun fact of the post:I just got a super cute hellokitty airpod case (^-^)

[mazyb0i]

I need advice or help or just some words of encouragement or analysis from other LGBT people please. 💙💚

Tldr; You have to read to understand because it's complicated

Hi guys! You may or may not know me as the super Rick & Morty / Solar Opposites obsessed fan artist but there's more to me than I let on.

I came here because I trust you guys and I wanna know what you all think. I'm Transgender, I identify as demiboy meaning that I'm half non-binary/Agender and half Trans Masculine. This March I turned 18 years old and my doctor gave me my HRT paperwork to look over and bring in signed when I'm ready. I've talked to my therapist about this for over a year, and I questioned my gender identity since I was 12, when I was 6 I never really thought about gender a lot to be honest I did everything under the sun that girls AND boys had done.

Other things to take into consideration is that I'm also diagnosed:

AuDHD (since 16)

Sever Generalized Anxiety Disorder (since 12)

Gender dysphoria (since 16)

Depressive Disorder (since 12).

I've been really adamant about transition since I realized who I was, around 13, it was a long and painstaking journey; full of loss and gain, disorder and chaos, pain and growth, but I made it through to the other side.

Now that I hold these papers in my hands, I'm scared to go through with it, what if I don't like some of the changes? What if people don't see me as who I am? What if I'm not accepted? What if my bullying gets worse? What if I wake up one day and realize all of this was a mistake and I was wrong? Even though it felt so right. I have a lot of dysphoria but I also don't always hate my body, because a lot of the time I see myself as genderless and it only becomes apparent to me that I'm not genderless when someone points it out and calls me "girly", "sissy", "missy", "ma'am", and the such...

Around trans people I feel like I belong, but sometimes I feel like I'm an imposter, what if my brain came up with all of this as a way to try and find a place to fit in because I fit nowhere? I know I'm Pan-demisexual, when I figured that out I never questioned it again. I feel like I roll with the LGBT people but I just feel so much comfort in the trans community.

I don't think I could live happily as a cis-woman. I hate the labels, I hate the pronouns, and if someone were to strip away my skin and all that was left was a white orb I'd say I was a nonbinary male person. I wish I was born the other way, things would have been so much easier, but at the same time I don't want to be a fully cis male if given the chance. I wish there was an in-between option, a lot of times growing up - I had hoped that I was born intersex; hell, I didn't really even know what intersex was, but I still wished it, I wanted it. I wanted to be the third and most rare option because that is who I felt I was. There's this gut-wrenching feeling that I get when I think about having to sign '• female/Woman' on a piece of paper. Because that isn't who I feel I am. But I also feel that what I am is an immovable and unreachable object that no one will ever be able to conceive or understand, and there's no way that I can reflect my understanding on to them.

I'm not going to go in at a very high dose, I know for sure I want top surgery even if my chest doesn't give me as much dysphoria as it did before my breast reduction, and I want to be happier in my skin. I want a deeper voice, I want the other changes that come with it and the only thing I really worry about is not actually being happy when it's all done and through. Not actually being what I am and looking as I am to others as I feel inside...

Anyways that's enough for spilling my guts, I just needed to talk to someone and I'm completely open with all ears if you guys want to share any input in or share any stories, regards, or advice. Honestly I could use people to talk to right now, I feel kind of alone, I feel like no one will understand me; And I don't know if it's just cuz of my autism, or my anxiety,.or if I'm just stuck in my head rn.