#passing pre t

[donnieisaprettyboy]

can we stop pretending like it’s so super easy for trans men to pass. “oh just put on a baggy shirt and cut your hair-“ it literally doesn’t work like that and I refuse to believe you actually think it’s that easy

[crownrots]

— WIP WEEKEND ✨

tagged by @simonxriley , thank you! 🫶

tagging @queennymeria @lilywatt @loriane-elmuerto @shellibisshe @jackiesarch @jacobseed @lucky-107 @countessrooster @arborstone @erinkeenan @risingsh0t @thedeadthree @frankwoods @josephzeppeli @imogenkol @cryptcombat @roberthouse69 @florbelles @shadowglens @arthrmorgann @leviiackrman + anybody else that wants to share what they’re working on!

Gael keeps his voice steady and strong, or tries to at least. Thick, clumsy fingers pull the glasses from his face as he rubs at his eyes; his hand had started to shake months ago, but never this much, never as they were now. 

Tears sting at the backs of his eyes and he’s grateful then, that Tommy had ushered most of them out of the room in an attempt to give him some privacy. He’d always liked him. Like the way he cared about people. 

“Hey, Donny.” Gael wipes at a tear as it slides down his weathered cheek, leaving a searing chill in his wake; the walkie crackles, deafening, uncomfortable silence greeting him on the other end. 

The object finally crackles to life and Donovan curses on the other end. Gael reprimands him jokingly, a fresh barrage of tears clouding his vision as he leans against the workbench for support, old knees threatening to sink to the woven carpet beneath him. 

“Yeah, sorry. I uh -” His eldest is silent on the other end of the walkie for a beat of two, as if searching for the right words to say. If there were any to be had at all. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry -” 

He’d never heard Donovan sound so small. 

He’d always been larger than life. Took the whole older brother, man of the house after him, things seriously; too seriously, he thinks back fondly. 

Donovan was always confident, self assured, almost bordering on arrogant at times. 

But now?

He sounds like the little boy who had scraped his knee learning to ride his bike. He sounds like the little boy who cried on his first day of preschool, afraid to lean into a world without his mother and father present at every turn. His voice trembles the same way it did when he had called Gael in the middle of the night to pick him up from a sleep over because he was frightened of the dark. His sorry sounds like the same one he whispered, half fearful and half angry at himself for breaking his grandmother’s vase one Christmas, a lifetime ago. 

Only, this was not a boo boo he could kiss and put a Band-Aid on. This was not something that gets a redo, not something they can sweep under a rug and keep between them until next Christmas. 

It dawns on Gael, briefly and painfully, that there would not be another Christmas for Donovan. 

He had always pictured himself dying before his boys. 

Even before the world went to hell and death permeated everything around them like a stench that could never be washed out; he’d always pictured he’d be first. 

The walkie crackles, Donovan’s half sobbed words spilling through.

“I’m scared, dad -” 

A moment of heavy silence blankets the space at his words, the rain coming down harder now, pelting the aging roof above them. A trickle of water hits her cheek as she turns away from him, but she barely notices. 

She knows what he’s asking and she wishes the answer was simple; I don't know. A confident, you weren’t bitten, spoken without hesitation or a lump in her throat. Only, she knows it runs deeper than that. The very thought of whatever this was, causes her heart to thump against her chest a little harder. 

Leftover adrenaline, she tells herself, it’ll stop soon. 

“You want me to shoot you next time? Fine. I will.” Kyle finally scoffs, her attempt to shrug off the looming conversation failing, attention still trained on the broken walkie she had pulled from her bag.

It should have been easy, someone says they’re bit, you shoot them. 

She’s done it before. 

Many times. 

But somehow, Tommy’s very presence had turned her inside out, all those soft, fragile spots that somehow remained after years of covering them with a hardened shell of indifference and isolation were exposed; worn on her sleeve, written in the way she looked at him, in the tremble of her hand whenever he was close, the catch in her voice when she’d try to counter any truth he might bring up. 

She couldn’t have shot him, not even if he was bitten and begging, accepting of a fate they all expected to face at some point. She couldn’t have hurt him, killed him, even if she wanted. 

He watches her for a long moment, says her name when he wants to challenge her words, gentle and quiet, understanding and even a little bit relieved. 

She forces those soft spots back inside for now and still doesn’t look at him, won’t look at him. 

“I’m going to check on the horse.” 

[saturnballz]

never underestimate how much confidence is important in passing

when I was in my very early social transition I'd cut my hair very short and wear only boardshorts and oversized hoodies and speak in my deepest voice (when I spoke at all) and refrain from doing anything remotely feminine, and I still got misgendered every single day because I just wasn't comfortable, I was just forcing it too much

now I haven't had a haircut in months (I really want to but don't have the money currently), I wear crop tops and fitted shirts, skinny jeans, speak in my gayest™ voice and I still pass at least 90% of the time because I assert myself in a masculine position and I am confident about it. confidence had such a big impact on my ability to pass that people that knew me three years ago now don't recognize me anymore + assume i'm a cis guy when interacting with me.

obviously if passing is important to you there's a lot of things that impact that, but genuinely don't underestimate how important confidence is. instead of forcing yourself to adhere to hypermasculine stereotypes you don't fit in, focus on becoming comfortable in yourself & your manhood

stay safe, love y'all

[tboysdeluxehq]

Transgender inecurity will have you like "you know i think my ex boyfriend who memorized 90s gay porn intros and has a tom of finland poster in his room and listens to azealia banks and bjork and told me i look hotter after i gave myself a buzzcut and took me to the gym with him every week to "make me into a machine" and would get annoyed when i wouldnt try harder at wrestling for top and tried to get me to take creatine....i think he just wanted me for my pussy"

[canisonicscrewyou]

people on t /etc who feel that their facial hair is too light for their liking: just for men is not a difficult product to use and is like $15 and comes in many shades and is worth trying, just get or steal a spoolie brush too, don't use the brush they give you. brown mascara or eyebrow gel is also wonderful. (<- even to test run before dyeing, but either of those options will also make the hair look slightly less fine too.) even if you think your facial hair is too patchy to try or your mustache is too fine or whatever. trust me. trust me.

[whereangelshide]

IM GROWING A MUSTACHE YIPPPEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

extra pic if the first pic is not obvious enough

[red-hibiscus]

Shout out to the trans dudes on T who didn't really change they just kinda aged

[louisjude]

.

[nikkodikko]

Bathroom trouble

[micahthemoon]

Summer 2024

The duality of passing pt. 1: Am I a Guy?

Since starting HRT I‘ve noticed that I pass more and more as a guy. And to be fair I have complicated feelings about this. On one hand I love it! Being gendered as a man means that in this rigid binary society I’m not being seen as a woman, which is all I ever wanted! I’m pretty much never being called ‘maam’, ‘lady’ or ‘girl’ anymore even in my most feminine attires.

However, there’s a ‘but’ and not the fun kind.

You see I’m not really a guy. I am transmasc nonbinary meaning while I do lean (some days very much so) masculine, I’ve never really felt 100% like a dude. Yet for most of society these nuances are confusing. So I’m called a guy even on days when my inner sense of gender leans towards the genderless (these days will any form of recognition of a gendered presence seem wrong).

Maybe this is some sort of internal transphobia speaking. Maybe I’m still not fully at home seeing myself as masculine. The back and forth between wanting to be called a guy and finding it strange can be exhausting. Yet really this is a minor inconvenience compared to pre-t where I’d be misgendered frequently.

So there’ll be days it gives me gender euphoria to be called Sir – like when I shopped for work shoes for my new internship or when Käärijä saw me and pointed me out in the crowd. Other days? Idk – it’s not as bad as being called a girl but it just feels not entirely right either.

[a-timely-problem]

being pre-t sucks bc no matter how much I work out, I still have the same amount of muscles as a twelve year old who does 20 push ups a day (apart from my back. Thank my family for a broad back and broad shoulders)

[weakinthekneez]

i hate that i actually pass until i open my mouth or smile

[kipaia]

surprise panic attack???

[juvenart]

When you're pre-T and you're forever being perceived as a 12 y.o.🥲

More memes on my youtube channel :3

[theood]

I got young man'd again!!!

[diapause]

I went to a Mabon gathering on Sunday and it just really made me think about how I was in a group of people whose identities are discoursed about online constantly and how it... did not matter because we were having a good time. like I am not wording this well at all but I don't get why so many people care about these things? other than the fact that they obviously spend no time with queer people in real life aside from maybe a few they deem acceptable.