#the dysphoria always gets so bad when I'm here

[nekrosmos]

Suffering one more day here, then I'm visiting one of my besties, then I'm going home. I can do this 💪

[hermitsdump]

kind of amazing how you can spend 99% of your life forgetting about someone's existence and still have nightmares about them for... nearly 20 years at this point. it's been 10 years since seeing them. fucj

[prettycottagequeer]

ok maybe I'm a little late to this BUT I'm gonna do a to-do list motivation thingy because I've had the worst two weeks since I started college :)

SO these I should start on asap:

50 I make the snack I really want but I haven't had the motivation to make

100 I clean my dorm. another thing I've been meaning to do for a week

150 I do the presentation about mid-victorian fashion I've been putting off (due Monday)

200 I start memorizing the monologue that was due a week ago (now due Tuesday)

these can wait longer:

300 I spend time outside. It's so nice but I'm getting stuck scrolling because I feel like shit. vicious cycle ect

500 I start setting a better weekend routine (aka getting up before noon)

1k I start working out again. I was doing a routine to get more masc and build muscle and I liked it but life hit me like Crowley driving the Bentley and I've missed like 3 weeks

2k I buy my first binder. I've been coping with sports bras for almost a year now and I haven't been able to justify spending $50+ on a binder even though I know I'd love it and use it everyday.

Do I tag people? I don't know but I'm going to. @the-globe-theatre-maggot @weirdly-specific-but-ok @howmanyholesinswisscheese

here's just some context if you want to read, feel free to skip. some of this I've talked about in the maggot server, some I haven't, but I really just need a place for this to go that's out of my head. tw homophobia, transphobia, car crash(??)

How I Have Been Run Over By The Bentley Going 90 In Central London What Feels Like 50 Times In The Last Two Weeks

I'm going to college about 4 hours away from my parents, and it's been really nice. They.. suck, to say the least. transphobic/homophobic ect, super traditional conservative catholic, racist, all of it. so i tried to move somewhere where I wouldn't have to think about them and I could be myself and do what I can to be happy. March 1st was the start of my spring break, which meant going home because the dorms close. I was already not excited, but I was prepared. the problem with being away from home is I forget just how bad they are. My optimism gets the better of me and I think maybe this time they'll be better. so I decided to not hide my septum piercing.

that was a mistake. it starts a whole fight where they say we know you're trans, you're actually a girl and you always will be, we have the bones argument, they think I'm being influenced by demons or something (if only they knew about crowley) because I want to change my name, and they tell me that going on t will completely ruin my body and give me cancer and other things. They're also mad about my dyed hair, septum, and general style, and say I'm setting a terrible example for my (5) younger siblings and make it a point to tell me just how much of a disappointment I am. I think I'm pretty cute and fun but y'know, whatever. very fun time. I lie so much, don't give them any more details about my identity, and say I'm not planning to go on t to save my ass. which is all on instinct which makes me feel worse because if I'm really trans I should be able to stand up for that, right? maybe I'm faking the dysphoria.

the next morning I wake up really sick, and spend the rest of the week sick and feeling like shit because I'm home and back in the same place and situation I was a year ago that I thought I escaped. at one point I pretty much lose my voice but also kind of get gender euphoria from it. it's weird.

On Friday it's time for me to drive back 4 hours to school, and I make it about 3/4 of the way when google maps takes me on a random gravel road and I crash my car, really crash my car, like sideways-in-a-ditch-windows-broken-crawling-up-out-the-door crash it in the middle of nowhere. (I was fully paying attention to the road, it was raining and super slick) I call my parents because I have no one else to call and I sit in a Subway for 3 hours while they drive to get my car. when they get there they're (understandably) really mad, and they tell me that I'm not mature enough to be going to school so far away and I need to get my shit together and stop depending on them. which. is probably true. but made me feel even more stupid about the fact that I crashed my car. I get back to school and I'm still Very Sick with no energy or motivation to do anything. So I've spent the last week trying to get better and honestly to do anything. it hasn't really worked. I'm a lot better health-wise (Not emotionally), still sick but I have a lot of work due, so I really need a push to get started

[leighsartworks216]

Deal with the Devil

Sylus x AFAB!Reader

It is almost midnight when I post this. I am... so tired 💀 I don't like the ending but I don't know how I'd fix it and I'm too tired to bother anymore teehee

Warnings: bruises, body dysphoria, chest binding, unsafe binding, teasing, pet names, possibly ooc

Word Count: 1,788

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

You bit the inside of your cheek to hide your wince as you passed the threshold of Sylus’s mansion. You were sure he already knew, with Mephisto always keeping an eye on you. You just hoped he didn’t know the full story.

You leaned against the wall and avoided looking down while you toed off your boots. The paint on the wall was as dark as the shadows in your worst nightmares. Your bruises would probably be just as dark.

“Welcome back, kitten,” Sylus greeted as he walked down the hall to greet you. “Was your apartment too far away?”

You shrugged noncommittally, but the sharp pain in your ribs nearly tensed your shoulder to permanently cover your ears. You hoped he wouldn’t notice. He would.

“This was closer.” Whether that was true or not, you have no idea. You don’t meet his eyes as you start to walk down the hall toward your room. There, you can take care of yourself in peace. “Go back to bed.”

He huffed, but there was very little amusement in the sound. His footsteps trailed right behind you. “Please, try not to sound so enthused, it’ll go straight to my head.” He tilted his head, white hair just catching the edge of your peripheral vision. “Your mission was a success, I presume, considering you’re still alive.”

You wished he’d just leave you alone. “Yup, a huge success,” you droned.

“No injuries, then?”

“If I say no, will you leave me alone?”

“If it’s the truth…” He pauses. You can hear the smirk in his voice. “No.”

“There’s no point answering, then.”

He chuckles. “You haven’t given me any incentive, kitten. How does leaving you alone benefit me, hm? There’s a give and take to these things, you understand.”

The climb up the stairs was agony. You tried not to let it show how bad your knees wobbled with each step, how you gripped the handrail like you were trying to strangle it, how your breath deepened as you struggled to catch it.

“I see you’re stubborn, as usual.”

You take larger steps to get to your room, despite the consequences. You turn the knob, rush in, and shove the door closed. Except, it didn’t close. That would mean the universe giving you even an ounce of luck today.

He pushes against the other side, effortlessly opening the door once more, even as you leaned against it with all your weight. It shuts with a light click, with Sylus on the inside.

“Show me,” he demands. You lean against the wall, panting through your nose and determinedly looking away. He sighs, irritated. “You can show me willingly, or I can tie you up and find out for myself. Your choice.”

You bite your cheek again. No matter how badly you wanted to keep it hidden away, keep your secrets close to your chest (literally), you could have gone to your apartment if you really wanted to keep it from him. It wouldn’t be hard to close yourself in a room with no windows, free from the prying eyes of that damned crow, and deal with it yourself.

And yet, you came here.

Despite his threat, he’s patient as he waits for you to make a choice. His red eyes seem to see right through you as they study your labored breaths, your minute giveaways of pain. Your hands trembled faintly by your sides, despite your subtle efforts to shake it away.

Eventually, you sigh. “Fine.” You don’t hide your wince as you push off of the wall, instinctively reaching for him for support. His hands grab your waist, keeping you upright. “Help me… take off my shirt.”

Sylus chuckles despite the tension in his brow as he helps you over to the bed to sit down. “Is it that difficult to ask for me to undress you?” He swiftly works to undo the buttons of your shirt.

His eyes flicker to every glimpse of exposed skin. There were ugly bruises, to be sure, but he’d never known you to let a few bruises slow you down. And yet he could see no sign of blood from an open wound anywhere. He frowns deeper.

“What were you fighting?”

You fiddle with your gloves, slowly working them off your fingers. “Just some knaves.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Same knaves did this? Did you forget how to dodge, kitten?”

You glared up at him. Really, it was all the dodging that had caused this. If you’d had a partner, you’d probably be fine. You could have stayed at a distance and provided cover fire. But they’d shown up rather suddenly, without giving enough time to worry about finding a partner.

With the last button undone, Sylus lifted your left arm and carefully slid the long sleeve off your body, before repeating it with the right. He dropped it beside you on the bed.

“Don’t tell me you wore that while you fought.” His voice was so low, threatening. It was almost a growl.

“I didn’t have time to take it off before the fight,” you defended yourself. You toss your gloves aside and reach under your chest binder to feel your ribs. The rough fabric rubbing against your skin as you jostle it feels like sandpaper, grating away at your flesh. You wince again, trying not to shift too much. “This is just a minor fluke; it won’t happen again.”

He scoffed. “Yes, a minor fluke. And how long do you wear it for, day by day? I’m sure you take breaks, right?”

“I take breaks!”

“Sweetie, one or two minutes with it off does not make up for hours with it on.” He goes to grab the wide straps of the binder.

You swat his hands away, staring up at him with wide eyes and covering your already-covered chest. “I’m naked under this!”

He leans forward, face close to yours as he grabs your hands and pulls them away. “Please, don’t tempt me, sweetie. You’ve already run my patience thin.”

“I can take it off on my own.”

“Really? You can’t take off your shirt by yourself, but you can lift your arms and wriggle out of a compression binder all on your own? It’s a miracle.”

He doesn’t wait this time for you to approve before he grabs the straps and starts working the binder over your head. You try not to fight him, but being exposed in front of Onychinus’ leader wasn’t exactly on your bucket list.

He alternates between pulling at the straps and the bottom hem, though he’s careful for now not to touch your skin. He thinks if he does, your face would go from pink to crimson in a heartbeat.

Once the stiff fabric is over your head, your arms are maneuvered slowly through the arm holes. It finds a place on top of your discarded shirt.

He doesn’t ask before grabbing the sides of your ribcage.

“Sylus!” you scold. When you try to push an arm away, he only holds on tighter, making you hiss.

“The sooner I’m certain you haven’t broken anything, the sooner you can get dressed.” His face is tense with concentration as he feels along each rib, head shifted from side to side as he checks the dark bruises painting your skin.

He was right: your face is bright red.

He steps away after a minute and heads to the closet. “Nothing feels broken, but you’ve bruised your ribs. Which means,” he returns with an oversized shirt and begins helping you into it without prompting, “you’re sticking around for a while, kitten.”

“I can’t,” you dismiss, fluffing the shirt in the front to hide your chest. “I have work.”

“Hm. Who’s that doctor friend of yours? I’m sure he’d be delighted to lock you in a hospital room for a few weeks.”

You glare up at him. “You wouldn’t.”

He makes a show of pulling out his phone and clicking through it. He turns the screen toward you for a second, long enough for you to process Zayne’s contact. He clicks the call button and brings it up to his ear.

You scramble to stand on the bed and pull the phone from his hand. He lets you, smirking with smug triumph as you end the call and toss the phone up by the headrest. You’re eye-to-eye with him as you pour all your anger and hatred into your stare.

“Three weeks bedrest,” he says.

“Two.”

“Three.”

You breathe in deeply through your nose, wondering if your hands would fit around his neck.

“Maybe the deal isn’t sweet enough for you?” he muses with a head tilt. “If a flat chest is really your desire, I’ll have the best surgeon in the field here to consult you as soon as you’re healed.”

Your breath caught in your chest. “Wha-” You grabbed onto his shoulder to keep yourself from falling. “Are you serious? But- But the surgery is so expensive!”

He chuckles. “Sweet, you insult me. Now…” He steps closer, running his fingers over your jaw. “Do we have a deal?”

The phone began ringing behind you.

You searched his eyes for any sign of a bluff, but came up empty. Slyus was nothing if not a man of his word. And he did have the money; you remember him telling you to bid higher at the auction when you were first getting to know each other. That sort of cash would take you several months of saving up every cent of your paycheck.

The deal felt too good to be true. “What do you get out of this?”

“Aside from making sure you’re not going to irreparably injure yourself one day?” He hummed. “Nothing at all. Think of it as a gift, if that makes you feel better.”

A gift… Could you really accept something so grand?

Your fingers mindlessly tap against his shoulder. You sigh, the feeling of defeat and elation warring inside you. “Deal.”

His hand moved from your jaw to you chest and pushed, plummeting you into the soft expanse of bed behind you. You cried out as gravity took hold, bouncing on the mattress. You blinked and Sylus was right over you, one hand beside your head keeping himself propped up while the other reached to grab the still-ringing phone. He accepted the call and put it to his ear.

Your heart raced. Did he lie to you? You could hear the muffled voice of Zayne reciting his standard hospital greeting.

“Sorry, I called the wrong number.” He didn’t wait for a response before hanging up. The phone was slipped back into his pocket before he caged you in completely. “Don’t look so scared, kitten. I keep my promises.”

[so-i-did-this-thing]

Hello! I just wanted to say I stumbled across one of your posts and ended up looking through the trans tag in your blog for a while and idk it felt so so nice to see a middle aged trans guy just living life and being there for others who are at earlier points of their own trans related journeys, and I hope I can look as awesome as you and be as comfortable in my own skin and style and everything when I'm older.

I guess I also wanted to ask if you had any insight or advice about a couple things, if you're willing to share.. First thing is, did you ever struggle with passing but looking much younger than your age and that somewhat affecting your perception of yourself? I'm 28 and I started T 11 months ago (though at a pretty low dose because I wanted slow changes) and my face just recently started visibly shifting to a more masculine contour and I love it, but I still don't really look like a 28 year old guy.

I've always passed easily even before T but people think I'm like 18-21 max. Things were fine while I was in college (I came out at 19 so for a while my face just felt fitting enough and didn't make me feel either dysphoric or in a weird age limbo) but every year it feels more frustrating and makes me feel sort of alienated from myself including in mental ways, like I'm just a little kid who can't grow up. Like I'll never look like a "real guy" even though I can be stealth because I look like a weird teen and not like a grown up man. It's especially bad when I look at my amab younger siblings who are now also adults and see how I "should have looked" in some other life if I was cis. I guess maybe that's just another manifestation of dysphoria that I didn't have to deal with before? Did you ever experience something like that? And if yes did it get better after some years on T or how did you deal with it?

The other thing is just.. internalized transphobia. It's one thing to know things in a logical or intellectual sense but it's so hard to really feel and believe it sometimes and let go of all the awful transphobic stuff my family said to me during the first years of me being out. I just kept going anyway because I needed to be true to myself and my family basically bullying me wasn't gonna just magically change how I felt about my gender, but what it did do is put my already low confidence and self esteem (in this context regarding my gender) down on the floor. And sometimes I still just think and worry "what if they were right and I was wrong and I'll never be real and valid because of x y z", "what if I'm just delusional", "what if I'm a ridiculous freak". I know, in a way, that no I'm not. I'm just a trans person and they're just transphobes. But feelings like that just get to me sometimes and I don't really know what to do about them even nearly 10 years after coming out. Does that get better at some point? Just like you kinda stop giving a shit what people think about you in general as you get older? But how can you change those internalized views affecting what you think of yourself?

Bit nervous about asking this stuff tbh, so sorry it was so long also sorry if I worded any of it in a not so great way.

I will say though, that seeing older trans people like you does help a little bit. Just makes it feel like "hell yeah I wanna be like him when I grow up". So thank you for showing me that today ;u; (and also for inspiring me to put a little more thought and effort into my styling and fashion choices haha)

Heya, Anon! Let's see what I can cover here:

Looking young.

Oh my god, yes. I was getting carded to buy superglue and spray paint well into my late 30s (I started T at 33). When my partner first asked me out for a date, they were worried I wasn't old enough to drink yet (I was 36).

This is me 1 year on T, age 34.

Years 6 & 7 (ages 39 and 40), is when I feel I started looking older.

I feel like it's only been recently, 14 years in at 47, that I look in my 40s, and a "mature" adult. My beard finally getting full helped, as did my receding hairline. And I feel like my skin texture has toughened up enough, to where wrinkles show more.

That said, yes, it is tough and annoying to deal with. Even when people tell me I look like a particular cis man (where I actually see the resemblance, lol), when I look at us side-by-side, I feel like I'm just a pale shadow of him. I feel jealous and dysphoric, even while I'm flattered by the comparison. I wonder what I "should" look like, and it feels like something has been stolen from me. Its a roller coaster of emotions.

That feeling never really goes away, but you need to afford yourself some grace. You're going to be your own worst critic, and I guarantee you that, of many cis men you grew up with, you can probably still see the kid in them. So of course, you're going to see the kid in yourself.

But, you also just need to let time run its course. HRT is a marathon, and a lot of changes don't really settle for about 5 or 6 years.

I hate to say "enjoy it while you can" because I sure as hell bristled at being mistaken for a teenager or barely 20 when I was in my 30s. But do enjoy what you can of it. Because once you hit middle age, you're going to start dealing with a strange intersection of dysphoria and aging that I myself am still trying to navigate.

One other way I help myself get over negative feelings is to think of how differently my life would have been if I were cis. I honestly worry I would have been a worse person; even though being trans creates a lot of obstacles in my life, I feel like it's been a net gain: being able to know myself so well and help others learn about themselves.

Internalized transphobia

This got better for me with age. My epiphany was that, even over a decade into my transition, I was still softening myself for the benefit of friends and family. I was still using my gender-neutral birthname (I only recently changed it). I would call myself a "person", "guy", or "dude", instead of a "man". I dressed on the young and casual side, eschewing full-on masculine outfits like proper suits with ties.

I only recently pulled myself out of this. It still is a habit-in-progress to refer to myself as a man, even though I have always felt like one. And I've started to dress more vintage, not just because of hyper fixations, but because it's a way to lean into a presentation that is unequivocally, "this is a middle-aged man". And it's done a lot of good for my mental health.

What I'd suggest is to see if you are holding yourself back in any way wrt your gender presentation or how you talk/think about yourself. Give yourself full permission to acknowledge that you are a man, full stop. You're a young man, sure. But still a man, and a full-ass adult at that.

I hope some of this helps. Transition gives us a unique toolset for examining who we are and how we want to move through the world, and that work certainly doesn't end after finally getting on HRT. <3

[btsxmalereaders]

I'll be There

>pairing —seo changbin x trans!male reader >genre — fluff, a bit angsty >summary —  When you're overwhelmed by the return of your period and feelings of dysphoria, Changbin steps in with quiet care and love, proving that even in the hardest moments you're never alone. >word count — 3,7k >a/n: idk how this happened i was planning on writing something short and fluffy but yeah, anyway... I hope you like it! This is my first time posting in a long while but luckily i'm on my winter break, so i'll catch up with reqs! thank you so much for your patience and support xoxo >warnings: dysphoria, menstrual themes.

“Alright, sounds good. How about next week? If I remember correctly, we have to record the dance practice for the title track.” Chan says and immediately looks at everyone’s reactions. 

You all are practicing for the upcoming comeback, recording videos for promotion, practicing nonstop the different choreographies, attending meetings, recording some songs, practicing again, recording many more things for different platforms and doing many other interviews. It is exhausting, sometimes, but you all think it is worth it when seeing the results of your hard work. 

“Yeah, next week seems fine.” Hyunjin agrees out loud meanwhile the rest of you just nod and stand up as today’s practice has finished. “I guess we could go live after recording the practice, and tease a bit about the comeback.”

Chan gives a few last indications and stays a bit talking to the staff while you start collecting your stuff and getting ready to go back to the dorm. It’s late, and you still need to get up early for tomorrow’s activities. As you walk back to the lockers you let out a deep sigh; your head has been hurting a lot and you could only owe it to the sleepless nights and continuous work. Changbin's eyes flicker to you as you try to gather your stuff, clearly in discomfort but not saying anything. He knows you better than anyone, especially after the months you've been together, but there’s still a certain sense of care and sensitivity he approaches your health with.

“Hey,” He murmurs softly as he grabs your bag before you could even touch it. “Are you okay?” Changbin asks, snapping you out of your thoughts. 

You nod and give him a weak smile. “Yeah, just a little worn out. I’ll be fine.”

He doesn’t buy it, not for a second. He knows you enough to tell you were feeling bad; he has noticed how in this whole time in the practice room you didn’t say a word, only when you were asked to. The groans you let out as a sign of tiredness and discomfort wasn’t something he overlooked. “You sure? You’re still not looking like yourself. Do you want me to get you something?”

Before you can respond, he walks ahead of you, his phone already out. You’re not sure who he’s messaging, but by the time you walk out of the room, he’s holding some painkillers and a water bottle in his hands. “Here, love. Take this and let’s get you something to eat, alright? I’m making dinner tonight.”

You look up at Changbin, a bit surprised but mostly grateful. He’s always been the thoughtful one, noticing the smallest details when you’re not feeling your best. The thought of dinner sounds comforting, but you’re not sure if you have the energy to eat.

“I don’t know, I’m really not feeling great,” you mutter, rubbing your temples as the headache intensifies.

He shakes his head with that soft, concerned smile of his. "That’s exactly why you need to eat. And no arguing with me. You know I can’t let you starve, especially when you're like this."

You let out a tired laugh. "You’re really spoiling me, aren’t you?"

He winks, his grin widening. "Someone has to take care of you, especially when you're too stubborn to do it yourself."

You smile at him, feeling a little lighter, and let him lead you out of the building into the car waiting for you, his arm gently guiding you along. As all of you make your way back to the dorm, Jeongin, Minho and Felix are engaging in an interesting debate about which one is the best Pokémon, Hyunjin seems to be focused on something on his phone and Seungmin, Han and Chan are discussing details of their agenda. But Changbin keeps glancing over at you, his eyes filled with concern, making sure you're comfortable. You find it endearing, the way he always looks after you, even in the smallest of ways.

When you finally get back to the dorm, the first thing Changbin does is usher you to the couch, throwing a blanket over your shoulders before even thinking about starting dinner. You sink into the cushions, letting the comfort of the blanket wrap around you as you watch him bustle around the kitchen. He’s surprisingly good at cooking, something you learned early on in your relationship, and you can't help but admire the way he moves so effortlessly, his focus entirely on making sure you're okay.

"Sit back, relax. I’ve got it from here," he says, glancing over his shoulder with a teasing grin. "I’m the chef tonight."

Everyone seemed to catch up on you feeling a bit down so they do their best on not making too much noise and check up on you constantly. Felix has put on your favorite movie and Jeongin prepared you a warm bath; which you truly appreciated. 

You were nearly sleeping on the couch as the warm water made you feel more tired, but Changbin finished cooking quickly with the help of Minho as well. You all gather at the table and try not to discuss work themes; everyone seemed to be tired of it as well, so a new rule you all agreed on was not to bring those matters to the dorm; just try to relax and catch a break from all the stress it implied.

“I’ll wash the dishes tonight, everyone just go to sleep.” Chan murmurs and everyone thanks him with a smile. You smile and stand up, rushing to your bedroom and hurrying to prepare for sleep.

Changbin walks in a few minutes later, still with a look of concern on his face. You exit the bathroom and yawn. 

“How are you feeling now?” He asks as he starts to get ready too. You just get in bed and sigh.

You close your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. Your head still hurts, but it’s not as intense as before, and the comfort of your bed helps ease the tension in your muscles.

"I’m okay now, I think," you reply, your voice softer than usual. “The bath really helped... and dinner was perfect, as always, so thank you. I feel... I don’t know, just a little less heavy.”

Changbin walks over to the bed, his expression softening even more as he sits next to you. He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle and caring.

You chuckle softly, closing your eyes for a moment. As much as you love seeing him take care of you, you can’t help but feel a little guilty. He deserves the same care and attention, but you’ve been too caught up in your own exhaustion to give him the same.

"I’m sorry for being such a mess lately," you murmur, barely audible.

Changbin stops mid-motion, "You’re not a mess. You're allowed to be tired, and you're allowed to ask for help when you need it. I’m here for all of it, alright? Just… don’t shut me out."

You look up at him, his eyes so full of understanding, and you feel your chest tighten with appreciation. He doesn’t want anything in return; he just wants to be there for you, in whatever way you need.

“I love you so much,” you whisper, your voice a little shaky.

He smiles softly, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “I love you more, and I’ll always be here. You don’t have to thank me. Just… focus on getting better, okay?"

You nod, feeling a sense of peace wash over you. Maybe you were running on empty, but with Changbin by your side, you knew you could face anything. Even the toughest days would feel a little easier with him there to support you.

Truth is, Changbin has been a gift sent from heaven. It was so easy for you two to connect, to develop something greater than a friendship; it was so natural, so meant to happen. You loved every single one of your friends, you even considered them your family; but with Changbin you just knew you were meant to be together as something more. He often liked to say you were like an extension of himself, of his soul. 

At the beginning you were just a mess of nerves and fear. You were confident in your identity and being, it was the people’s reaction what made you feel worried. The thought of being misunderstood, judged, or treated differently because of who you were felt like a heavy weight on your chest. But over time, you learned to trust yourself more, to lean into your confidence, even when doubt crept in. 

What made it all bearable, though, was finding the right people to stick by your side, people who saw you for who you truly were. Changbin was one of them. He never once faltered in his support. From the very beginning, when you had confided in him about your fears and insecurities, he was unwavering in his care and understanding. He made sure you always knew that your identity, your truth, was something beautiful in his eyes. He never made you feel like a burden, never pushed you to change, just accepted you fully, as you were.

You’d been together for a while now, but it wasn’t something you could just throw out to the fans. Being a part of Stray Kids has always been an exciting, rewarding journey, but it also came with its own challenges, especially in the industry you’re in, where image and expectations are everything. Things are fine as they are now; calm, private, and under control.

“I’m really lucky, aren’t I?” you murmur softly, nestling deeper into Changbin’s embrace.

He tightens his hold on you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “No,” he replies, his voice filled with warmth. “I’m the lucky one.”

You smile, feeling the warmth of his words settle in your chest. It’s a quiet moment, but in it, you feel like everything is right.

"Yeah," you whisper, your eyes fluttering closed, "we're both lucky."

He hums softly in agreement, his thumb gently brushing against your arm as the two of you drift into a peaceful sleep.

——————————————————————————————————

The next week rolls around, and practice is as intense as ever. The comeback is just around the corner, and everyone is pushing hard to perfect every move and note. You’ve been working non-stop, barely catching a break, and the exhaustion is starting to take its toll. The symptoms had been there all week, the fatigue, headaches, cramps, but you convinced yourself it was just the stress of all the rehearsals, meetings, and promotions. After all, you’ve been on testosterone for months, and your periods had been absent, so you didn’t expect to deal with them again. But as the day goes on, the cramps intensify, and that’s when it hits you: Oh no. You’re getting your period.

You try to push through, focusing on the choreography and not letting yourself get distracted, but the pain becomes unbearable. You’re still moving, but it’s sluggish, like your body isn’t responding the way it should. Your stomach twists with each step, the cramps growing sharper, and you can feel your face flush. This isn’t just from stress, you think. It’s the real deal.

You’re about to say something when Changbin notices first. He’s always been quick to read your expressions, and today is no different. He pauses mid-step, his eyes catching yours, and something in his expression shifts. There’s a sudden concern there that makes you freeze. He knows.

"Hey," he murmurs, stepping closer, his hand resting gently on your shoulder. "Are you okay? You don’t look so good."

You try to force a smile, but it feels weak. “I’m fine. Just tired, but I’ll catch up, honestly. I’ll be alright.”

Changbin sighs. His eyes flicker over you again, noticing the way you’re holding your stomach and the tightness in your posture. “You’re sweating, and you’re holding your stomach. It’s more than just being tired, isn’t it?”

You let out a shaky breath, trying to ignore the building anxiety in your chest. “I think I’m about to start my period…” you say in a quiet voice, almost embarrassed to admit it. You don’t want to make a scene, especially not in front of the team, but it’s hard to ignore the truth. You had thought the testosterone would stop your periods for good, and now, to have them come back so unexpectedly, it’s a shock. A panic starts to rise in your chest. 

Changbin’s face softens, and he immediately takes a step closer, his expression filled with concern. “Hey, it’s okay. Don’t stress about it. We’ll figure it out.”

But you can’t help the worry that settles in your gut. You hadn’t expected this, and now it feels like everything’s coming undone. What if something’s wrong? What if I’m not supposed to have this anymore?

Before you can spiral into those thoughts, Changbin is already taking charge. He walks over to Chan and the staff, speaking to them in quiet tones. You can hear a few words exchanged, but the conversation feels distant as the pain continues to rise. You want to push through, to keep going, but the cramps are unbearable. You can barely stand up straight, and your body feels like it’s shutting down.

When Changbin comes back, he kneels down in front of you, his hand resting gently on your knee. “They’re good with everything. You don’t need to worry about the live or rehearsal for now. We’ll handle it.”

You open your mouth to protest, but the words get stuck in your throat. The thought of letting everyone down, especially when they’ve been counting on you, makes your chest tighten. You swallow hard, the weight of it all starting to sink in. “I feel like I’m failing, though. Everyone’s expecting me to be there, and I can’t even keep it together.”

Changbin takes your hand in his, squeezing it gently. “You’re not failing. Taking care of yourself doesn’t make you weak. You’ve been working so hard, and you’ve got us. We’ve got your back, okay?”

His words ease the tightness in your chest, but the anxiety is still there, lingering in the back of your mind. You don’t want to feel like a burden, especially not to Changbin. But his reassuring smile and calm presence give you the comfort you need to let go of some of that fear.

He stands up, brushing a hand through your hair before looking down at you with a soft expression. “I’ll make sure everything’s taken care of. Let’s get you home, alright?”

As Changbin helps you out of the practice room and toward the car waiting to take you home, the guilt starts creeping in again. You’re quiet for most of the ride, staring out of the window, your mind racing. Why now? Why did this have to happen now of all times? What if the guys are mad at me? What if this keeps happening? What if something’s wrong with my body?

Changbin doesn’t press you to talk, though. He keeps his hand resting on yours, his thumb tracing calming circles over your knuckles. Every now and then, he glances over, but he knows you need the space to work through your thoughts, even if they’re running wild.

When you finally get back to the dorm, the silence feels heavier. As soon as the door closes behind you, it’s like the emotions you’ve been holding back all day come flooding in. You drop your bag to the floor, your shoulders shaking as tears start to spill. You’re angry at your body for betraying you, frustrated with yourself for not noticing the symptoms sooner, and overwhelmed by the thought of not being there for the team.

Changbin is by your side in an instant, gently pulling you into his arms. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice soft and grounding. “You’re okay. Just let it out.”

“I’m sorry,” you choke out, clinging to him. “I didn’t mean to-- this wasn’t supposed to happen, Binnie. I thought I was done with this. What if it doesn’t stop? What if something’s wrong with me? And now I’m missing practice and the live, and everyone’s going to think I’m slacking or--”

“Stop,” he cuts in gently but firmly, pulling back just enough to cup your face in his hands. His eyes meet yours, steady and full of reassurance. “None of that is true. You’re not slacking, and you’re not failing. Your body’s doing something unexpected, yeah, but it doesn’t mean anything’s wrong with you. It’s just a part of the process, okay? You’re doing your best, and that’s all anyone can ask for.”

His words break through the storm in your head just enough to make you pause, but the tears keep coming. You bury your face in his chest, letting yourself cry as he holds you tightly.

Meanwhile, back at the studio, the rest of the group has gone live. They’re chatting with fans, teasing the comeback, and answering questions, but your absence hasn’t gone unnoticed.

Where’s ______?, one fan asks in the chat, echoed by several others, as well asking for Changbin.

Chan steps in smoothly, his tone light but comforting. “Ah, ____ wasn’t feeling well today, so he’s resting. Don’t worry, he’ll be back soon! We’re taking good care of him. Changbinnie is making sure he is doing fine.”

The chat floods with messages of support and concern, and the members take turns reassuring the fans, making sure the focus stays positive. Changbin had already briefed them before he left, and you know they’ve got your back. But that doesn’t stop the guilt from gnawing at you as you picture them carrying on without you.

“See?” Changbin whispers as he rubs soothing circles on your back, as if he can sense your spiraling thoughts. “They’re all handling it just fine. No one’s upset, and the fans are being super supportive. You’re not letting anyone down, love. You’re just human.”

You sniffle, wiping at your face as you pull back slightly to look at him. “I just hate feeling like I’m not doing enough. And this stupid period is making me feel worse.”

“You’re doing more than enough,” he insists, brushing a tear off your cheek with his thumb. “You push yourself so hard every day, and it’s okay to take a step back when you need to. That doesn’t make you any less important to the team, or to me.”

You sigh and feel more tears streaming down your face. A silence fills the room for a moment as you collect your thoughts. Changbin clears the traces. “What else are you thinking of?”

“I feel… so out of place,” you whisper, voice cracking. “It’s like my own body is against me. I thought I was past this. I’ve been on T for years, and I’ve been doing everything right, but it still comes back, Binnie. I feel like I’m back at square one, like I’m not even–”

“Hey,” he interrupts softly but firmly, wrapping his arms around you tighter. “Don’t say that. You’re exactly who you’re meant to be. None of this changes that, not even for a second.”

“But it feels like it does,” you cry, voice trembling. “It feels like no matter what I do, I’m stuck in a body that doesn’t feel like mine. And now this, on top of everything else– I just feel so overwhelmed, like I can’t catch a break.”

Changbin takes a deep breath, holding you close as he thinks carefully about what to say. “I can’t pretend to fully understand how this feels for you,” he starts quietly. “But I do know that it doesn’t make you any less of the amazing, strong person that you are. You’ve been through so much, and you’ve come so far. One bad day, or even a bad week, doesn’t undo all of that.”

His words don’t fix everything, but they cut through the noise in your head just enough to ground you. You grip his arm tightly, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing, and it helps pull you back to the present.

“It just feels so unfair,” you murmur after a moment. “I’m so tired of this fight.”

“I know, love,” he whispers, resting his chin on top of your head. “I hate that you have to go through this, but you don’t have to do it alone. I’m here for you, always. Whatever you need; space, comfort, distraction, I’ll do it. You just have to tell me.”

You let out a shaky breath, your body slowly relaxing into his. “I don’t even know what I need right now,” you admit.

“That’s okay,” he says gently, his hand moving to rub soothing circles on your back. “We’ll figure it out together. For now, just focus on breathing, okay? One thing at a time.”

He shifts slightly, grabbing the blanket he’d brought over earlier and wrapping it snugly around both of you. “You’re not alone in this. And this doesn’t change how I see you or how much I care about you. You’re still you, always.”

The sincerity in his voice breaks through some of the tension in your chest. You rest your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes as you focus on the sound of his heartbeat. Slowly, the overwhelming tide of emotions starts to ebb, replaced by a small flicker of comfort. Changbin doesn’t rush you or try to push you to move on from how you’re feeling. He just stays there, holding you, letting you take the time you need.

His words hit you right in the chest, and for the first time all day, you feel a little less alone.You let out a shaky breath, leaning into him again as you whisper, “Thank you, Binnie.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, his arms still wrapped securely around you. “Always,” he replies softly. “Now, how about we get you into some comfy clothes and set up a little movie night? Just you and me.”

The thought of curling up on the couch with him, away from all the stress and expectations, sounds like exactly what you need. You nod, finally letting yourself relax a little, knowing that for now, it’s okay to let someone else take care of you.

[cripplecharacters]

hi, so I’m probably undiagnosed ADHD and I wanna write a character who is diagnosed ADHD and the problem I’m having is with meds. How I was planning to write them is that they’re a drummer and the character doesn’t always take their medicine when they are going to drum because it makes them feel like a bit slower and almost have like a delayed response or something. I’m still working at the kinks, but I feel like that could come off as really insensitive towards how ADHD meds work and like I don’t fully know how ADHD meds make you feel because I’m undiagnosed and I don’t wanna write it wrong and all of that.

-🥁

Hello!

That's... not really accurate to how ADHD meds work at all. Though this would be insensitive, my main concern is the inaccuracy and the harmful misinformation that this is spreading.

First thing: ADHD medication -- like any daily medication -- isn't something that can just be taken when you want to take it. It's one thing to forget a dose every so often but deliberately missing doses on a regular basis is very harmful.

Not taking it regularly can cause the medication to be less effective for your character and can cause them to be hit worse (by their symptoms and their withdrawal) every time they miss a dose. It can also cause the medication to just... stop working for your character as they develop a tolerance for it.

I take Concerta (also known by the name Ritalin) and when I miss a dose, I certainly end up feeling it.

For me, the first thing I notice is just a weird feeling. Like something in the world is different. It's hard to describe but, to other people, I'm told that it looks like I'm spacier and in my own world.

I have a very hard time focusing and can't last more than a few minutes without spacing out -- even if I'm actively involved in a conversation. It makes it impossible for me to attend my lectures and take notes, let alone take a test or an exam.

Because I also have anxiety and several other mental conditions, this also has a major impact on them. The increased rejection-sensitive dysphoria (RSD) that I experience triggers an increase in my anxiety (even if I've taken my anxiety meds), which in turn causes an increase in my dissociative symptoms.

The brain is a complex organ -- one we don't fully understand yet. Nothing happens in isolation.

Aside from the ADHD-specific side of things, there's also the withdrawal.

While it's not as bad as the withdrawal from my venlafaxine (the meds I take for my PTSD, anxiety, depression, and dissociative disorder. Three cheers for medication that multitasks!), withdrawal from my Concerta is still not great.

When I miss a dose, I end up sleeping almost the entire day. I just can't stay awake. I also get a horrible headache that can't be touched by Advil or Tylenol and I end up with no appetite (though apparently most people experience the opposite -- an increase in appetite). I also experience an increase in my depression.

Though it will of course be different for everyone (especially if your character is on a different type of medication), what I'm getting at here is that ADHD medication doesn't work like this. You can't pick and choose when to take it.

Taking ADHD medication doesn't make you feel "slower" or have a "delayed response" or anything like that. In fact, those feelings are more likely to come from missing a dose.

Something else that needs to be considered here is that ADHD medication is constantly portrayed as being bad/evil/negative and especially as something that's only done to dull the character with ADHD and make them more "palatable" to those around them. It's shown as something that stifles their creativity and forces them to become exactly like everyone else.

This can't be further from the truth.

Although it is true that ADHD is often over-diagnosed and over-medicated, the effect that ADHD meds have on those who need them can be life-changing.

These harmful misrepresentations of ADHD medication have major consequences in the real world. Not only do they undermine the struggles of having ADHD and reinforce the idea that ADHD is just being hyper/unfocused, they also discourage people from seeking the treatment that can help them.

When I was first diagnosed, I didn't want to go on medication and my parents didn't want me to either. They thought it would make me dull and lifeless and kill my creativity. Even after I'd done my own research and decided to try it, my father spent weeks telling me that ADHD was just "western propaganda" and didn't actually exist.

I see this same attitude in teachers, other parents, and even doctors all the time.

Although some people can be quick to diagnose a child with ADHD and medicate them when there may be another cause for their behaviour, overcorrecting in the opposite direction helps nobody.

If you want to write a character with ADHD and especially one that's on medication for it, please do your research first. You don't have to have ADHD or be on medication to do that. This article [Link] discusses the impact of poor ADHD representation while this one [Link] talks about what happens when you miss a dose of ADHD medication.

In short: please don't do this. ADHD isn't just the "silly hyper can't sit still" disorder and the medication for it is an actual treatment that helps so many people. Treat it as seriously as you'd treat any other disorder.

Cheers,

~ Mod Icarus

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Jason Dean dating someone who's transmasc

Warnings: brief mentions of transphobia, canon typical stuff such as bullying, swearing, violence, murder, etc, slight suggestive things but nothing that's full on smut (I might make another post with that later), smoking (because we all know our boy JD smokes like a chimney), mentions of dysphoria, mentions of menstrual cycles/periods, some forcemascing by JD (sorry I couldn't resist)

A/N: I did a Veronica version of this like two years ago and since I'm currently obsessed with JD (and it's pride month) I felt the urge to write one for him too (also because I've come to the conclusion that I might just be transmasc and not genderfluid so this is mostly just written for me)

I wanna start off by saying that yes JD is an asshole, but he'd never be (intentionally) transphobic. However, if he thought you were trans then he would push your buttons a little bit to see how long it would take you to admit it, especially if you met before you came out

Let's say you two started dating when you still saw yourself as a girl or something (I know that JD's supposed to be "straight" or whatever but he's bisexual to me okay fight me on it). If he saw you acting a little uncomfortable being referred to as his girlfriend or having to use the women's restroom at school he would 100% call you out on it

Not in a degrading way or anything like that, just to see how you would react to it. The second you start to get defensive or give him the silent treatment he shuts up, not only because he accomplished what he set out to do but also because he feels a little bad

Eventually you just decide to rip off the bandaid and come to terms with the fact that you're actually a trans guy, him being one of the first people you tell. His only real response to this "startling revelation" is to look at you and go "Yeah I kind of figured that one out for myself already, I was just waiting for you to"

Your worries that he'd want to break up with you after telling him disappeared almost immediately as you crossed your arms and rolled your eyes at him. "Ha ha, very funny smartass"

If you decide you want to cut your hair shorter then he will absolutely offer to help you with it, insisting that there's no reason for you to go to a professional with him there (it's totally not just because he's very possessive and would never let anyone else touch your hair other than him, that's crazy)

You may have wore his clothes some before, but he practically begs you to do it after you come out. Why would you ever need to go shopping when you can just raid his closet, y'know? Plus seeing you in them really turns him on

He gets ten times more protective afterwards too, constantly following you around to make sure you're okay. You could have classes that take place at the same time on opposite sides of the school and he'll always skip his to join you. Eventually the teachers just move his class schedule around to match with yours since he never attends his anyway

Always has an arm wrapped around you no matter what, especially if he sees someone like Kurt and Ram passing by. It's best to distract him with kisses or something so he won't hear the things they call you and get mad (he hears them anyway but can't resist making out with you so he lets it slide for the time being)

Speaking of making out, he does it with you everywhere and all the time, whether it's a modern au or the 80s. He's not worried about what people say or do, usually letting his gun do all the talking. He shoots them is what I'm trying to get at here lol

Most people are much too scared to even breath too loud near you because of your attack dog boyfriend but if it ever does happen that you get bullied (whether that be verbally or physically) he will go out of his way to make sure the local morgues, cemeteries, and funeral homes have plenty of business

Feeling anxious or stressed about having to spend time with/be around someone who misgenders/deadnames you? Just let him tag along. He might not say much but what he will do is very passive-aggressively correct said person on their "mistakes". It pretty much always works as no one wants to argue with a guy who frequently carries a gun

It's not the best habit around but he probably gets you hooked on smoking at least occasionally, especially if he hears you complain about your voice being too high. Oh, you're worried that you sound too feminine and "girly"? He has the perfect way to get you that low and gravelly voice that you want! You think he's talking about voice training or something until he hands you a pack of cigarettes and with the most serious expression ever says "these will do wonders"

Even if you don't smoke religiously like he does it's kind of hard to resist it completely given how often he lights up a cigarette (and yes, he will blow smoke into your face, because while he loves you he's also an asshole and thinks it's funny when you wrinkle up your nose in disgust at him)

He's not the best at comforting you when it comes to days where you feel dysphoric. Like, he won't flat out say that he thinks you're acting ridiculous because he knows it would only make things worse, but he's also not great when dealing with emotions, so the most he might do is let you cling to him while he gives you a few awkward pats on the back

If this goes on for days borderlining on weeks, however, that's when he'll start to act less sensitive and give you a bit of tough love. "What are you talking about saying that you 'don't look like a guy'? Are you crazy? You really think life would be better if you were still living as a girl? Do you honestly think that would make you happy?"

It surprisingly works, believe it or not. Even if you know he's purposely trying to rile you up it ends up making you feel better and more confident in yourself. Anytime he notices you starting to slip back into feelings of self doubt or insecurity, he just wraps you up in his arms and whispers soft encouragements in your ear. "You were never a girl, you just need to work a little bit harder than others to grow into the man that you are. If anything, that's a testament to your strength for being able to do that"

This certainly happens whenever you're on your period and feel grouchier or less confident than usual. "You're so strong for being able to endure this every month, did you know that? You're much braver than I am, I doubt I'd be able to get through it as well as you"

Sometimes you almost start crying because of how emotional his words make you feel, and sometimes you roll your eyes with annoyance while muttering "you're a condescending asshole" under your breath. Either way it ends up making you feel better, especially when he offers to rub your lower abdomen when your cramps get too bad

If you decide to start HRT then he wants to be there to help you take the shots, even if you insist you can do it yourself (he likes being part of the process of helping you "turn into" a man). Same thing if you use T gel or whatnot, he gets really pouty if you ever apply it without him

He's not really the best person to do "guy bonding" activities with unless you like making pipe bombs or planning the murders of people you hate (hypothetically speaking, of course) but if there's anything like that you want to try out then he'll definitely be there to support you. Like I don't know, hunting/fishing? Or watching sports games while drinking beer? Or breaking out the toolbox and fixing things around the house? Sorry I don't really know things that guys do despite being one myself 😭

The only exception to that is probably car maintenance. I see him as being very protective over his motorcycle and learning how to take care of it himself so he doesn't have to worry about taking it to the shop and having them screw it up. He'd be happy to teach you about how to change your own oil and might even teach you how to ride it as long as you don't accidentally scratch up his paint job. He might not kill you for it, but he will be very upset and end up ignoring you for a few hours afterwards

Purposely introduces/refers to you as his boyfriend in front of others just to see your face light up with confidence. It's not like JD has a lot of friends or anything but anyone that he does know feels as if they've met you already because of how he much he talks about you (he's totally that one annoying person you know who never shuts up about their partner ever)

All in all, I'd say he's a relatively good boyfriend in general, but especially if you're transmasc. Solid 8/10 (one point was deducted for his slight insensitivity and another was due to his crazy streak. Sorry JD I promise I still love you </3)

Main masterlist | Heathers masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?

End notes: this ended up being much longer than I anticipated but I have absolutely no regrets whatsoever at all

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated | requests are currently open

🏷 taglist: @missmewts @ghot-girl @gilmore-angel @your-next-daydream @the-night-owl-blr @noisy-dumb-piece-of-shit @pregnantmen @theonetruepotato87

[least-transmcytshowdown]

Mumbo Jumbo:

Submitted for: Hermitcraft, Last Life, Secret Life, Wild Life

Headcanons: Nonbinary, he/him

Propaganda: “[The submitter] think[s] trans Mumbo would be funny. Vote for him.”

“Guys. Guys. Mumbo Jumbo being a pathetic trans nonbinary he/they masc presenting guy. Being so proud of his moustache that he spends so long styling it every day. Wearing a suit everyday because it gives them the gender euphoria when wearing something so stereotypically 'masc'.”

Graaavel:

Submitted for: Exposure Craft

Headcanons: Transmasc, he/him

Propaganda: Is transmasc irl

Joel Smallishbeans:

Submitted for: Hermitcraft, Third Life, Last Life, Double Life, Limited Life, Secret Life, Wild Life, Empires SMP Season 1, Empires SMP Season 2

Headcanons: Transmasc, he/they; Trans man, he/him; Genderfluid, any pronouns; Trans masc, it/he/she; Transmasc Genderfluid, he/any; Identity not specified, they/he

Propaganda: “He’s just a silly little terracotta man with only a vague understanding of human gender he tries to impersonate but fails at.”

“Lizzie and Joel are a t4t bi4bi couple in [the submitter’s] heart. Lizzie transfem (she/her) Joel transmasc+gender fluid (he/any).”

“Basically anywhere you see him. Just like, the constant ‘Ooh i'm so manly, the manliest, I’m so tall and strong and handsome,’ and always insisting that he’s really tall despite being super short and the way his voice will sometimes get all high and squeaky these are all very transmasc coded things. He’s one of us, okay, he’s got the vibes, trust, he’s got our humor. Every time he goes mining on Hermitcraft there is always a caption that’s like ‘straight white male mining content’ which is more of his constant need to assert how macho and manly he is and in double life he says he’s not going to get in the pool cause he’s ‘ashamed of his Minecraft body’ which is very trans behavior. He’s got that confidence he can wear a dress for mcc and still know he’s a man which is very transmasc cause other men just got handed it, but we afab men have to look at masculinity and go ‘yeah that’s me’ and then make sure everyone knows it like that’s how you know being trans isn’t a choice because men kinda suck and I still went out and actively was like um guys I’m actually a man sorry. Some days he’s cool with just throwing gender norms out the window and some days he feels the need to yell for the whole world and the next couple galaxies as well to hear that he’s DeFiNiTeLy NoT WeArInG a CoRsEt GeM. Can you tell [the submitter’s] projecting? Cause [they’re] projecting. You can pry this headcanon out of [their] cold dead hands lol.”

“He has fluctuating chest dysphoria so sometimes he doesn't bind and sometimes he does. His bad dysphoria days are rare enough that he's not gonna bother with top surgery.”

“Transmasc Joel Smallishbeans is everything to [the submitter] and [the submitter] like[s] to think that forming the bad boys is what made him plug the tv back on and turn the brightness to the max, like he went ‘Oh we’re bad boys?? Guess I’m finally a boy now!”

“Nonbinary bad boy Joel except he is not a boy.”

"First, [the submitter] think[s] she was raised as a gender that just. doesn't exist here. She was raised in Mezalea where how gender works is just. different and, because she has a beard, everyone assumed she was a man but she's NOT and in recent years has been figuring out her own identity and pronouns in a way she hasn't ever thought about before and also she and Lizzie are butch4femme, amen. Or bi4bi. Both? She’s a masculine person and she likes stuff like the bad boys because it's more of a title separate from her gender. She’s just a masculine woman, amen.”

“He's a sopping wet tanooki (cat /j) and [jizzie] are t4t bi4bi coded.”

“Joel hasn't been called girlfriend/wife/girl by his friends for NOTHING. Bro’s the definition of gender and he slays in a dress no matter what (in Minecraft and in irl)."

[anniebeckcalla]

𒀭࣪⋆ :completely: [mark lee x reader]

non- idol au. wc:1000 cw:self-h@rm, mental health issues, body dysphoria, fluff, slight skinship, slight angst. mental breakdown

calla's note: if you know that you might get triggered by sh, please don't read this story. it's okay, it doesn't make you any less brave or cool to skip this story.

You glared at yourself in the mirror, your image becoming more and more blurry as tears blocked your view. As you blinked them away, the water smudging your makeup, you hated yourself for allowing yourself to believe that you could ever look good in the strapless dress that your boyfriend, Mark, had bought for you.

Everywhere-your arms, shoulders, and clavicles- were crisscrossed with scars. They made you look like a wild animal had been let all over you; angry, red, and relentless.

“Cutter,” your ex had remarked in the past. To him, it was unattractive to bear the unforgiving marks of self-mutilation.

“Poser,” a friend had laughed when you'd accidentally shown them to her (whatever that meant.)

You bad been together with Mark for two months. With Mark, you felt like you could be yourself. You didn't need to pretend to lead a perfect life, nor be happy 100% of the time. He made you laugh, made you smile, made you forget about everything else apart from you and him. Although you hadn't yet said it to his face, you were convinced that you were in love with him.

However…

…you had never shown him your cuts.

You didn't want to imagine the look of horror on his face when he realised that he was going out with a madwoman. You didn't want to make him feel like it was his fault for your unsteady mental health. You didn't want him to leave you after discovering that you didn't truly love yourself yet.

For that reason, you had always covered your body with long jumpers and shirts, insisting that you were fine even when it was boiling hot. For that reason, you had tried hard not to show how unhappy you were when Mark presented you the strapless dress “as something to wear for our date.” You had hugged him, thanking him for being so thoughtful, and he had kissed you in response, glad that he had been able to help.

With Mark waiting for you downstairs, you had reluctantly changed out of your hoodie and long sleeved top and pulled the dress over your head, hoping that somehow, your latticed arms wouldn't look too bad. But here they looked, worse than ever, a multicoloured array of scarlet, pink, brown, and white lines in every place that the eyes could see.

You were soiled. Worthless. Disgusting.

Your body shook with sobs as the tears flowed freely down your face. You knew that Mark was going to find out, and he was going to leave you, and you were going to be alone forever and ever.

Tap-tap!

Mark's voice came through the door. “Hey, y/n. I don't want to rush you, but you've been a bit of a while in there. I hope you're okay. Um- I'm coming in, so I hope you're decent…”

You crossed your arms over your chest as if doing so would make the scars disappear. “NO!” you mouthed silently. But it was too late. Mark came around the door, ever dapper in a smart casual affair. He was smiling, but then he stopped when he saw your streaming face. Then his eyes went down to your arms, and he stopped completely, still as a stone.

“That's right,” you hiccuped. “Laugh at me. Despise me. Hate me for who I am. I'm sorry that I look like this, and I wish I could change, but I can't.”

Mark walked up to you and gently took your hand in his. “Why are you ashamed?” he asked softly. “Why would you hide this away from me?”

His other hand hovered over one of your arms, but then he glanced up at you. “May I?” he questioned. You shrugged in response. To be honest, you didn't didn't understand what was going on. Whether Mark was being kind to you, or whether this was his rejection ritual. You decided that you'd let everything play out.

Mark ran his finger down the raised scars, brows furrowed with concern. He looked up at you. “You see these, y/n?” he said. “These are what they call battle scars. They're a proof of the mental turmoil that's going on inside your head, You should never, never feel bad for having these scars.” He drew you into a hug, and the action made you cry again, weeping into his shoulder and making his suit damp. “I'm sorry if I ever made you feel that you can't express yourself freely, darling,” he uttered. “I don't care what issues you have, I don't mind what you've been through or what you have on your body. I'm going to love you completely.”

Had he just said…-?

Mark pulled away suddenly. “Okay, babe, I was going to say this tonight at our date, but I might as well say it now. I love you. I always have, since we met, and I always will.” You weren't sure if you could believe what you were hearing. “Even with my cuts?” Mark pulled you into another embrace, kissing you gently on the cheek. “Even with your cuts, y/n. I know that one day you'll be able to open up to me, but we're going to take things one step at a time.” He pulled at your dress as you broke away. “You don't have to wear this, you know, if it makes you uncomfortable.”

You looked down at your dress. Now that you were recovering from your breakdown, you realised that you liked the way that the dress hugged your figure, the way that the colour complimented your hair and skin. Mark really did have a good sense of style. Besides, what was wrong with your cuts? Beauty's in the eye of the beholder, and you decided that you'd give your marks some love, even if only for tonight.

“It's okay. I'll wear this one.”

“Oh, great.” Mark tried to hide his smile, but you could tell that he was very excited at this small achievement.

So were you.

[tiercelgreen]

I've realized that I was being accidentally very antagonistic towards my friend and GM for quite some time during our tabletop game sessions because he prefers it when his players play characters that look like them. Of course, he means the human 'them', but because I do not perceive myself as human at all, I've always had significant issues with playing characters that look how people perceive me. Note that this was a game in a system where it's fairly common to play characters that look like you at least a little bit. VTM to be specific. It makes it easier to dress up as one anyways and can often make it easier for the other players to visualize you as your character. We did have a conversation about this recently and I elected to avoid telling him that i'm a dragon (I love him dearly but I doubt he would understand, and he already treats me in very species affirming ways despite being unaware of my nonhumanity, so I don't particularly mind.) but I did try to make it clear to him that the reason I'm so opposed to playing characters that "look like me" is because I do not see myself as the human face he sees. We reached a resolution where he loosened his rules (and admitted that he had been being fairly restrictive and that it was largely his personal preference leeching into the game) and I did apologize for being directly antagonistic and constantly talking about it, but I do still feel a bit bad for doing so. Have any other nonhumans/alterhumans encountered situations like this? If so, do you have any ways you get around the uncomfortable dysphoria of playing a human (or human adjacent) character? I've noticed for me i'm often better off playing fantasy-based games where I can make a character that more resembles me as I see myself, or play a character that is very much not me at all which helps me distance myself in a healthy way and not trigger any feelings of species dysphoria. Please do not comment on mine or my friends behaviors surrounding the discussion. We have resolved the situation and I firmly believe neither of us were in the wrong here. I'm simply asking about alterhuman solutions to playing humans or human perceived characters in games.

[pluto-supremacy]

Viktor Headcanons: dating a ftm!disabled!reader

➼ This is a very self-indulgent set of headcanons as a disabled trans man, but hey I hope you enjoy!

➼ Reader doesn't have a specific disability, I'm trying to be as general and inclusive as possible so a wide range of disabled persons can relate

➼ No beta we die like Silco

➼ Warnings: mentions of gender dysphoria

GIF does not belong to me! All credits to the owner

Mobility aids out the wazoo laying around you guy's room. Canes? Check. Walkers? Yep. Wheelchairs? You bet. Crutches? I could go on here people

He learns everything he can about your disabilities. I mean everything. Mans is staying up til the wee hours of the morning reading up on how to help you, general limitations from the disability, etc.

Will remind (and force) you to take breaks

"My love, you've been on your feet far too long. Sit down, I'll go get you a glass of water"

You're gonna have to do the same for him too, Viktor doesn't know how to take his own advice

The shower of course has a shower chair (if you need one) with everything within reach

Viktor keeps a section of clothes set aside for your bad dysphoria days. Whether that means baggier clothes, long sleeves, backup binders, his clothes that he always catches you stealing. Anything to try and make you feel more comfortable in your own skin

If you bind, he reminds you to take binding breaks. He'll make sure you can run off to your shared room to take that breather and not have to worry about people staring at you

Keeps easy food to make when you both don't have the energy to make anything

Your guy's bed? The comfiest ever. Lots of pillows, blankets, anything to help your joints and help you feel comfortable

Heat intolerant? Ac is cranked with fans. Cold intolerant? Well now it's the opposite

Uses his experience with hextech to invent new devices for you to help

"I know you said that you were struggling with your heart rate, so I made you a monitor. Small enough to wear under your shirt and it logs everything for a week so we can write it down. It also tells you what you were doing when it spikes or drops. Need some help putting it on?"

He's the first one to advocate for you, and the loudest. A building isn't ADA accessible? Oh, he's on it. Someone is being ableist? He has a sharp tongue and if all else fails, he has a cane too

You're both always there for the other's doctor's appointments. Viktor will drop his work to come with you (which is saying something since he'll deny food, water, and rest to continue his work)

He has a little trans pin on all of his clothes, it's one of his little ways to show you he loves you

If you ever get gender-affirming surgery, he's now doing his absolute best to take care of you while you're recovering. No heavy lifting, helping you get dressed, setting alarms to give you your prescriptions, fluffing up pillows (since you will be on bed rest for a while, doctor's orders), anything and everything he can do to make the healing process quicker and easier for you

"Y/N, if you try to get up one more time I will have to tie you to the damn bed. The doctor said no strenuous activity and to rest for a few days minimum. Rest, please"

Will loudly and aggressively correct people when they misgender you on purpose (he's nicer about it when it's a pure accident)

Can, will, and has yelled at your doctors before. Whether it was an appointment for your disabilities and they refused to take you seriously or if a doctor is 'not convinced' you're trans. Needless to say you never had to see those asshole doctors again

Helps you decorate your mobility aids, whether that be stickers, covers, or making add-ons for them (like a secure bag holder on your wheelchair, for example)

While Viktor isn't really one for shopping, he will happily take you to different shops to try and find you clothes that make you feel comfortable in your own skin. And of course afterwards you guys go out for a little treat, like ice cream or coffee

[copperfirebird]

I'm not putting this on my fandom blog because ultimately it's not fandom specific... but since we're talking about mental health as fic writers and fandom people, I asked myself, should I insert myself into this conversation?

Because if I'm not on Tumblr, I would not have an excuse to avoid doing my accounting homework and while I do find figuring depreciation to be calming I don't want to do it before today.

Backstory: I don't talk about it a whole lot aside from reblogging things but I do deal with a cattywampus brain. Some parts of it I consider just "the way I am" and I'd be perfectly fine if society wasn't built around assumptions of a certain type of neurotypicality. Some... less so, particularly the Anxiety/OCD/Depression cocktail. (Lexapro my beloved.)

I have a couple of different thoughts that have been percolating since your original post a couple of days ago, T, and the post I saw when I opened tumblr today definitely made me think about RSD, one of my least favorite ADHD side effects.

I've seen more discussion of Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria in the last couple of years, maybe because we're staying determined to talk about mental health despite efforts to Bring Back Stigma from some corners, maybe just because it's more well-known as it gets talked about more and it's a spiraling effect.

Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria is why I don't allow guest comments on AO3. I love that some of y'all think that one troll is funny and don't take it personally and more power to you, I wish I could, but I know damn well that criticism fucks with my head. And I came up writing fic on LJ, I remember taking "Is your OC a Mary Sue" tests and tweaking the fuck out of my original Sailor Scouts because I wanted a good grade in fanfic. I want a good grade in friendship, something that is both reasonable to want and possible to achieve.

Sidebar: I haven't actually watched more than one season of MLP:FIM but somehow I know that is the most Twilight Sparkle sentence that I have ever uttered.

I could get one thousand good comments and one person complaining that Xaden is supposed to be a selfish asshole and I'm not writing him as enough of one will ruin everything because my brain is a fucking liar.

(There was a whole thing here about scrupulosity and actually I'm going to make that its own post.)

Like you've heard of a complement sandwich, right? Good thing-crit-good thing, supposed to make it so you don't feel like shit?

RSD means you could give me a complement sandwich with every fucking topping in the Subway and all I'd be able to taste is the banana pepper of one tiny critique. It doesn't even have to be meant as a critique. It's just what the RSD hones in on.

And then I second guess all of my reactions to other people, too! Because of the RSD/social anxiety/scrupulosity combo, it's all one big mixing bowl mess of a salad... sandwich... can you tell I'm writing this on my lunch hour?

I try to comment on everything I read... but sometimes something already has like thirty comments, and I ask myself if I have anything to add or will people think I'm just commenting for... I don't even know. Attention? It doesn't make sense. I know it doesn't make sense.

Knowing it, and even being able to deal with it most of the time, doesn't mean it isn't still happening. And sometimes all I can do to make it stop is close all the tabs and feel like a bad friend.

Don't even get me started on responding to comments as an author... I know I should but I'm also hung up on, well, if I start now, how far back should I go/what if people are upset if I didn't reply to theirs/what if I don't reply correctly. It's ridiculous! My brain is broken! I know this for a fact! But I can't always work around it.

Sometimes all I can do, sometimes the very best thing I can do, is close the tabs and focus on what I can do. To borrow yet another metaphor, I can't stop the shitty venin sage in the back of my head from whispering at me, but I can tell him to fuck off and reinforce my shields and go do something else. (Like Violet.)

I don't have a point anymore, I don't have a clever ending. I'm just putting it out there in the hope that maybe it helps someone know where at least some of this anxiety comes from?

[lettherebetboys]

TWO MONTHS ON T 🎈🎉🎁‼️‼️‼️

i can’t believe it’s been two months already, this is insane!! here are some updates on all the changes that have been happening:

dosage: i’ve been at 25mg/week, but i dropped down to 20mg a few weeks ago! (that’s .1ml of 200mg/ml T)!

voice: i'm DEFINITELY cracking more! more so when i speak, a little less when i sing. i think my tonal center is shifting a bit lower already, so i’m gonna have to figure out how to speak so that it resonates lower in my chest, because talking high pitched like i normally do is starting to wear my voice out. it’s nice, honestly! even the cracks :-)

i haven’t lost or gained any range, and i’ve been working my belting voice a lot more and it feels the same as usual. my high classical register has been getting more tired more easily though. i have noticed that i have more radical ‘good singing days’ and ‘bad singing days’. i always did but it’s more noticeably one or the other than before

physical changes: bottom growth has slowed down a liiiiittle but is still definitely happening. Rapidly. i have decided i like it a lot!!!!!! it’s really cool and makes me feel really good about something that used to make me very dysphoric!!!

the peach fuzz on my upper lip has gotten slightly darker and thicker, and there are sparse dark hairs sprouting on my chin. nothing noticeable when i’m not looking closely in the mirror, but they’re there! i don’t know how to feel yet, i’m gonna wait and see if they start to fill out more.

my skin is actually getting softer instead of rougher like it should, especially on my face, but i think that’s cause i got a new skin cream and moisturizer. similarly, i’m noticing the same amount/a little less acne than usual, but i’ve recently started washing my face twice a day and using skincare and stuff so that’s likely why.

still working out and eating protein and stuff. chronic pain is painful but i’ve also been exerting myself a lot so it’s a reasonable amount for the circumstances. i’d like to lose a little bit of weight, just so that i can gain it back in the right places faster, instead of waiting for my existing fat to redistribute, so i’m gonna work on that!

also my cheeks are a little puffier! apparently a normal thing in the first few months of T. i don’t dislike it but i’m definitely excited for them to slim back down into a more defined cheekbone.

orientation stuff: yes i absolutely like girls. i’ve come to the conclusion that i previously did like girls, just had a really strong preference for boys, and now T has shifted me towards the center

also, i may not be asexual. i’m…probably not asexual. i don’t really know. at the very least, i know for sure i’m leaning more positive as opposed to how i was before (more negative/repulsed). it is possible that some of my dysphoria being alleviated has something to do with this. hm. we’ll figure that out later!

mental health: i’ve felt pretty good recently!!! i feel a lot more comfortable and confident in my body and it’s definitely influencing my behavior. i’m more comfortable dressing how i want, and presenting more femininely when i want, and it brings me euphoria even in public. i’ve always loved being fem every now and then, and T is helping me find the most happiness in that.

i can’t really tell cause no emotional permanence, but i think i’ve been less anxious and depressed lately. which is always great!!!

it still feels unreal that i’m on T, but lately it’s started to sink in just a little bit more. it’s crazy and i LOVE it!! i love it i love it i love it!!!!! even the changes i was really worried about are bringing me joy!!!

it’s scary sometimes, changing so much so fast. it’s scary looking in the mirror and not fully recognizing who you are anymore. but it’s not in a bad way. it’s like how you look in the mirror after getting a really good haircut for the first time in a while:

oh! there you are!

[dragonsdendoodles]

Do you have any trans Enoch head cannons?

You know I do and quite a few of these are angsty. No I'm not sorry

He never actually came out to anyone, I don't think. He hates explaining it to people so he just doesn't. If someone he doesn't know asks why he sounds like that or why he's so small, he'll make something up about his age or genetics, but if it's someone he's close to he just gets kind of quiet and tries to change the subject.

The others do know about it--Enoch isn't exactly great at being subtle about anything. There were some awkward conversations, and there was a bit of fumbling here and there due to confusion on some of the more sheltered kids' end, but they all accept him. There hasn't been any conflict or anything about that. (In fact, a good handful of the others are trans too.)

There's only been one incident in the Acre thus far because of it, and it started because he and Horace were being a little less careful about being gay in public in 1886 than they should have been, and also because Enoch is physically incapable of shutting his mouth and is happy to list off plenty of reasons he's going to hell when prompted.

On bad dysphoria days he doesn't leave the basement, not even for food. He only lets Miss Peregrine, Horace, and Bronwyn in his room to bring him meals. (The others can come in if they ask really nicely, but he doesn't like it because he knows how bitchy he can come across sometimes and he feels bad about it.) This does not get better after the whole face scar thing.

No one in the house knows his deadname. No one would ask, but he's still not telling you.

Someone suggested he named himself after his peculiarity (the Book of Enoch is about the revolt of God's angels before the flood. Fall of Lucifer, stuff like that) and I fucking love that idea and I'm stealing it. That's canon now fight me

Enoch has had... not great experiences with people outside of Miss Peregrine's loop finding out about this. It was another big reason alongside his peculiarity that he was treated so badly in his old loop. Sometimes that makes him refuse to talk loud enough for anyone but whoever's next to him to hear, because "people always guess right, and then I open my mouth and they 'correct' themselves."

Horace helps a lot, doing anything from helping him pick out clothes to actually yelling at people for making transphobic comments even if they weren't actually about Enoch, which makes Enoch happier than he thinks he has any right to be. Horace insists this is stupid and is happy to be the big loud scary one for once so Enoch won't feel as bad.

[bugsmunched]

" Deep Breaths, Sweetheart" - Logan Howlett x Trans! Man! Reader

Request:

hiii i have a request if that's alright:-) i absolutely loved your logan x trans!man!reader fic so would it be possible to have that again? logan helps & comforts the reader on a bad dysphoria day, helping with binding, taking the t-shot & stuff like that, maybe taking the reader out on a date for distraction or cooking at home, you decide:'-) all the gentle affirmations & mental health support without judging♡ might've gone a lil self-indulgent here i'm sorry😅

Requested by @chrrywvea

Tw: AFAB READER! TRANS READER! gender dysphoria, binding, needle mentions, tooth rotting fluff, fluffy nudity, fluffy shower scene,neck kissing, reader has a happy trail, cute domestic shit, gentle praise, affirmations, Logan is cute as hell, Logan worships reader,

WC: 2,680

Requests are open! And dw more Logan x FTM reader is soon to come! (As a trans man myself I find these really comforting)

Hello all my fellow trans men, I see that you enjoyed my last fic with an FTM reader and Logan Howlett, so here's some more! I hope this is sufficient!

You groaned a little bit as you felt your body begin to wake up, sunlight being gently filtered through Logan's thin curtains. You moved the blanket a little bit so it was covering your face, blocking the light from hitting your eyes. You went to roll over to turn away from the window, only to realize that a pair of strong arms were keeping you from moving. You smiled a little bit to yourself, melting into the comfort of being held by your boyfriend.

You laid still for a little while until your legs started to get a little restless. You did your best to wiggle out of the brunette's tight grasp, giggling a little bit when his grip only tightened. He pulled you closer to him, your back pressed flush against his chest, his lips near your ear.

“And where are you going, mister?” He asked, his voice gravely from having just woken up, his breath hot on your ear.

“‘m just trying to readjust, Lo..not trying to go anywhere, the sun is just in my eyes. “ You hummed softly, stifling a laugh as he wrapped his arms tighter around you before lifting you and flipping you around so you were no longer facing the window.

“Is that better, sweetheart?” He asked softly as he placed a tender kiss to your forehead, his eyes tracing the shape of your face. No matter how many mornings the two of you woke up in bed together, he would always study your face, like he was trying desperately to memorize each curve.

“Mhm..much better..now I got a much better view too..” you murmured softly, looking up at him with nothing but love in your eyes.

“The view from here is absolutely magnificent…” he said with a little chuckle, adjusting a little bit so his face was buried in your neck. You giggled a little at the feeling of his beard scratching the sensitive skin of your neck. He took a few deep breaths, pressing a few delicate and loving kisses to the side of your neck.

“You're laying it on a little thick there, Wolvy..” you giggled softly, a hand tangling in his hair as you just let him place living kisses against your neck.

“Personally, I think I'm not giving you enough affection, my prince. “ He hummed gently, the vibrations of his deep voice making you giggle again.

You paused for a moment and then groaned, closing your eyes a little bit as the realization hit you. “ It's shot day…” you whined softly, “damnit. “

Logan chuckled a little bit and pulled away from your neck, looking into your eyes. “ Yeah, my love, it is shot day. “

You whined and covered your face with your hands. You always dreaded shot day- perhaps it was the fact that you chose to get it bi-weekly, and by the end of the two weeks your hormones seemed all out of wack. Or maybe it was the fact that in order to appear more as a man you had to take a shot, and you couldn't do it naturally. It could've also been your fear of needles, those things always freaked you out, even before you had to take testosterone shots. You weren't exactly sure why you hated shot day, but you knew that without Logan it would be one of the worst days out of the month.

“Hey, hey…sweetheart, it's okay…” Logan hummed softly as he pulled your hands away from your face, looking at you with a smile that could simply make you melt. “I'm here, my beloved. You know I'll do everything in my power to make sure today goes well, okay?” he reassured you gently, arms wrapping tightly around you as he squeezed softly.

You sighed a little bit, relaxing into your boyfriend's touch. His large frame feeling heavy against your own, similar to a weighted blanket. “you promise?”

“I promise, sweetheart. “ He hummed softly, kissing the side of your face lovingly. “I would never let anything happen to you, my handsome boy. “

You closed your eyes, nuzzling into Logan's warm touch, feeling yourself relax at his calming words. “I love you, Logan. “ You hummed softly.

“I love you too, sweetheart. “ He said as he placed a kiss to your nose before he unwrapped his warm arms from your body and sat up, stretching a little bit.

You whined at the loss of contact and made grabby hands at him, sticking out your bottom lip in a pout. “ Come back!” You whined softly.

Logan chuckled and ruffled your hair gently before he stood up, shaking his head at your whiny protest. “ C'mon, darling, we've got to get the day started. “ He said as he extended a hand for you to grab.

Reluctantly you grabbed onto his hand as he pulled you out of bed and into his arms, hoisting you to your feet. “ Atta boy. “ He praised gently with a smile, making you blush a little bit under his gaze.

He gently led you over to the closet and started picking out clothes. For you he picked out one of his favorite shirts- so it smelled like him– a pair of boxers, and a pair of his sweats. He always loved how you looked in his clothes, plus they made you feel a little more euphoric, especially on your shot days.

You reached forward and grabbed your binder, Logan giving you a look. “ Sweetheart, I don't think we're planning on leaving the manor today…”

You shrugged a little bit and held onto the black fabric. “ I promise I won't wear it for longer than 8 hours, okay Lo? It'll just make me feel better…” you explained, looking at him with big eyes.

He nodded in understanding, “ okay but I'm setting a timer as soon as you put it on, okay handsome boy?” He asked with a smile as he began to pick out his own clothes. He grabbed a plain black shirt that tended to cling to his torso, a matching pair of boxers, some jeans and a flannel in your favorite color. That was one of your favorite outfits of his, and he knew it.

He grabbed your hand and led you into the bathroom, setting all the clothes on the counter as you placed your binder on top of your pile. He quickly walked over to the shower and turned it on, making sure it was at the perfect temperature for you. He didn't care if it was too hot or cold for him, he wanted you to be as comfortable as possible.

Your hands went to the hem of your shirt to take it off before arms wrapped around you, Logan replacing your hands with his own. You smiled and lifted your arms up as he helped remove your shirt, his eyes lingering on your figure.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and sighed softly, your eyes gravitating towards your chest. You felt the instinctive urge to cover yourself, but Logan gently held your hands. “ Look at my handsome boy…” he whispered gently as he head dipped down into the crook of your neck, leaving gentle kisses on the warm skin.

“I don't feel like it…” you gawked at your own body, letting out a soft sigh.

“Oh please sweetheart, I have a bigger rack than you do..” Logan hummed against your skin, his beard and sideburns scratching gently at the delicate skin. He sucked gently at your collarbone, but not enough to leave any marks. His intentions were to just ground you and keep you from getting too upset with how your body looked.

You laughed a little bit at his words, a smile spreading across your face. It was kind of true, he did have a massive rack- and you could never stop staring at his pecs. “You're just saying that. “

He shook his head, a hand resting on your waist, rubbing circles into the supple skin with his thumb. “You know that I’d never say something that I didn't mean, sweetheart. Especially not to the handsomest boy in the world. “

You hummed softly as he kissed up your neck delicately, a hand sliding down your body and grabbing the hem of your sleep shorts. He gently pulled them down as you allowed him. You stood in front of the mirror, now completely nude with your boyfriend burying his face into your neck, his hands resting on your waist.

He looked up from your neck for a moment and made eye contact with you in the mirror before his eyes trailed down, lingering on the little happy trail that laid on the bottom of your stomach. He smiled and looked back up, looking at your eyes through the mirror. “Look at you…” he exclaimed softly, his eyes full of nothing but love. You loved mornings like this, where he just took his sweet time to appreciate your body- but not even in a sexual way. He just lovingly and innocently appreciated your body, acting like you were sculpted by the universe itself.

You shivered a little bit at the cold air of the bathroom, melting into the warmth behind you. “ C'mon, Lo..” you hummed softly, playfully pushing his head away from your neck. He whined a little bit but complied as he stepped back from you, pulling off his own shirt and boxers.

You couldn't help but stand there, mouth agape for a moment. Your eyes lingered downwards, committing the layout of his abs to memory. You swore that his body was absolutely perfect. He laughed a little bit, “eyes up here, sweetheart. “ He said, making you blush slightly.

You looked up at him with a smile, feeling like you were falling in love all over again. He grabbed your hand and gently led you into the shower, a sigh exiting your lips as the water hit your front. He smiled softly, stepping in behind you and holding onto your waist once again. He pressed his chest against your back.

He reached up with one arm and grabbed the shower head, his other hand cradling your head gently as you let yourself relax. He let the water rush over your hair, massaging the strands gently to let it soak up water before he put the shower head back up, grabbing your bottle of shampoo.

He poured some into his hand and lathered it for a moment before he began massaging it into your scalp, your head leaning into his fingers. You wished that this moment could last forever, the two of you pressed so close together as he just cared for you.

Soon enough he began to rinse out your hair, letting the suds run down your body. He made sure to get it all out, not wanting grease and grime to build up on your hair. He then grabbed the conditioner and rubbed it into your ends, being almost too delicate with his touch.

He began to wash his own hair as the two of you waited for the conditioner to set in your hair, the strong pine scent of his shampoo filling your nose. It was strong, but it always smelled wonderful, mainly because it reminded you of him.

Soon enough he rinsed your conditioner out of your hair, soon following with his own head. He then grabbed the bottle of soap and your sponge. “You want to do it? “ He asked softly. He always washed your hair for you, but left it up to you on who washed your body, knowing you could be a bit shy about it.

You grabbed the sponge from his hand and nodded softly, pouring some soap into it and beginning to lather it up. “Okay, my love. “ He spoke gently, grabbing his own sponge and doing the same.

After a few moments, the two of you exited the shower, Logan turning off the water as he wrapped a fluffy towel around your body. He wrapped himself in another towel, looking at you with a bright smile. He grabbed another towel and started to gently dry your hair, making sure that it wasn't dripping wet.

After both of you were sufficiently dry, he walked over to the counter and grabbed your pile of clothes first, handing you your boxers. You pulled them on, reaching out for your binder as he shook his head. “Can I put it on you darling? I promise to be careful. “ He asked softly.

You smiled gently and nodded, raising your arms in the air once again as you grabbed the binder, pulling it over your head and down your chest. He smiled softly as he helped to flatten the fabric against your chest, kissing your nose quickly. “ My boy.” He hummed softly, watching as you glanced past him to look in the mirror.

He could tell that your head was swimming with thoughts, so he gently grabbed your chin and made you look at him, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss for just a moment before pulling away. “ My handsome boy, you have nothing to worry about, alright? Your body is absolute perfection, every last bit of it. Don't worry that handsome little head of yours, my prince. “ He said gently, looking you up and down for a moment.

He backed away and put his own clothes on, leaving you in your boxers and binder. He opened the bathroom cabinet and pulled out a vile of testosterone and a boxed syringe. He sat down on a chair that the two of you had put in the bathroom a little while ago and patted his lap gently.

You walked over and gently sunk into his lap, back pressed against his chest. He opened an alcohol wipe and gently began to clean an area on your stomach, letting it dry for a few moments. “Are you ready, baby boy?” He asked softly, grabbing the syringe.

You nodded hesitantly, looking away from the syringe. You hated needles. He prepared the syringe, drawing the testosterone from the vial. “ Alright, deep breaths, sweetheart.”

You closed your eyes tightly and tried to relax, giving a little bit of a high pitched whine as you felt the needle. After a minute you opened your eyes and saw a pretty yellow bandaid on the injection site. “Done already?” You asked softly, with a bit of surprise.

“Yeah, sweetheart, done already. It was quick and easy. “ Logan said softly as he tossed the used syringe into the sharps container you two had in the bathroom. He leant down and pressed a kiss to your temple, “ and you did such a good job, darling. Such a good job. “ He praised gently as he rubbed your sides gently.

He grabbed your waist and picked you up as he stood up, placing you steady on your feet. “ Alright, let's get you dressed the rest of the way, then we can go have breakfast, okay?” He asked softly, giving you a toothy grin.

You nodded and started to pull on the pair of sweatpants, lifting your arms up so he could pull his shirt over your head. You brought the fabric up to your nose and took a deep breath. It smelt like him. It smelt like home.

He stared at you for a moment, rubbing his beard with his hand. He just stood there, taking you in, staring in awe at how amazing you looked in his clothes.

After a moment he leaned forward and grabbed you by your sides, pulling you in close, so that your chests were flushed together. You giggled a little bit at the sudden motion, burying your face into his chest. He rested his head on yours, wrapping his arms tightly around you. “ Mine. Mine mine mine. “ He said, happiness lacing his voice. “My handsome, adorable, perfect boy. “ He hummed softly.

You giggled a little bit as his grip only got tighter. “ Lo! “ You squealed, “ let me go!” You giggled softly, wiggling in his grasp a little bit. He sighed and reluctantly let you go, staring down at you.

“C'mon sweetheart, let's get you some breakfast. “