#also did i mention hes transgender

[blood-injections]

Okay fineee finally getting back into figuring out an original comic of mine i plan to draw and publish. Well two✌ comics maybe three the third one i wanna make a movie or animation. They're The original stories ive had forever but keep losing inspiration for but that always live in my head ones like danger days meets the matrix meets the terminator and im working on my style guide for it rn getting inspiration back and sketching the creature designs. That ones science fiction post apocalypse gay dystopia and the other one would be like. Short like one part while the dystopia one would be like a series or at least multiple issues but the second one is apocalyptic fantasy and kind of cosmic horror? But its not really horror it just has the same like. Unexplainableness. Its just kind of sad tbh its like. Hopeful but somber but Weird and has a nuclear war and powers and mental illness and genderless entities and a lonely god and queer love facing an apocalypse together and life and reincarnation and ends and beginnings and just. Its my darling. And the third one i want to be a film of some sort is straight up horror lol a lot of body horror and like. Its a hopeless apocalypse it doesn't have a happy ending. Im thinking since i dont know like. cgi or anything. Im thinking of making it a mixture of live action for the characters and stopmotion for the Creatures since i could greenscreen them in if i just make them puppets. itll be a project for when i have free time and money for an adobe subscription lol. If you guys wanna hear abt any of these i might make a sideblog if i start drawing the comic until then just ask me abt any of these and ill gladddly infodump lol. Gay matrix terminator danger days dystopia is for now called In Our Dreams(we can be complete) the weird fantasy apocalypse one always been loosely titled The Stargazer but i could call it Sending My Love(from the other side of the apocalypse) to match lol. And the third one i just call the Bonepocalypse. Also these all came from wild dreams i had like the universes i fully dreamed up its crazy

[brokenfoxproductions]

People: transphobia isn't a real world issue.

Me: I corrected a triage nurse on my name and pronouns today, and she screamed that "we aren't doing this" and that she "could call me whatever she wanted" before trying to kick me out and refusing me treatment.

I ended up just complaining to her supervisor and then leaving because I couldn't deal with it. I need a lithium level and kidney function done and I didn't get it done because of this. 🙃

[yay-depression]

it is so silly when ppl are like “transitioning as an adult should be restricted/illegal because it’s not medically necessary and the results are permanent!” bc like… we do so many things in modern medicine that aren’t strictly necessary & have permanent outcomes and yet… we do them.

my mom went in for a voluntary corrective knee surgery to remove part of her knee. my dad didn’t need to have his stomach removed, he chose to do that. there’s a content creator called footlessjo who chose to have a below the knee amputation. people everywhere ask their doctors for gastric sleeve surgeries, or corrective eye surgery. not to mention almost of these surgeries have a higher regret rate than transitioning.

if we only did medical procedures or treatments when people were dying the quality of life for everyone would go down. if we trust other adults to make permanent decisions regarding things like whether they should keep an organ or a limb, then there’s no reason not to trust trans people who want to medically transition.

[spocks-kaathyra]

thinking pythas and nal thoughts

[endusviolence]

Rowling isn't denying holocaust. She just pointed out that burning of transgender health books is a lie as that form of cosmetic surgery didn't exist. But of course you knew that already, didn't you?

I was thinking I'd probably see one of you! You're wrong :) Let's review the history a bit, shall we?

In this case, what we're talking about is the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft, or in English, The Institute of Sexology. This Institute was founded and headed by a gay Jewish sexologist named Magnus Hirschfeld. It was founded in July of 1919 as the first sexology research clinic in the world, and was run as a private, non-profit clinic. Hirschfeld and the researchers who worked there would give out consultations, medical advice, and even treatments for free to their poorer clientele, as well as give thousands of lectures and build a unique library full of books on gender, sexuality, and eroticism. Of course, being a gay man, Hirschfeld focused a lot on the gay community and proving that homosexuality was natural and could not be "cured".

Hirschfeld was unique in his time because he believed that nobody's gender was either one or the other. Rather, he contended that everyone is a mixture of both male and female, with every individual having their own unique mix of traits.

This leads into the Institute's work with transgender patients. Hirschfeld was actually the one to coin the term "transsexual" in 1923, though this word didn't become popular phrasing until 30 years later when Harry Benjamin began expanding his research (I'll just be shortening it to trans for this brief overview.) For the Institute, their revolutionary work with gay men eventually began to attract other members of the LGBTA+, including of course trans people.

Contrary to what Anon says, sex reassignment surgery was first tested in 1912. It'd already being used on humans throughout Europe during the 1920's by the time a doctor at the Institute named Ludwig Levy-Lenz began performing it on patients in 1931. Hirschfeld was at first opposed, but he came around quickly because it lowered the rate of suicide among their trans patients. Not only was reassignment performed at the Institute, but both facial feminization and facial masculization surgery were also done.

The Institute employed some of these patients, gave them therapy to help with other issues, even gave some of the mentioned surgeries for free to this who could not afford it! They spoke out on their behalf to the public, even getting Berlin police to help them create "transvestite passes" to allow people to dress however they wanted without the threat of being arrested. They worked together to fight the law, including trying to strike down Paragraph 175, which made it illegal to be homosexual. The picture below is from their holiday party, Magnus Hirschfeld being the gentleman on the right with the fabulous mustache. Many of the other people in this photo are transgender.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of a group of people. Some are smiling at the camera, others have serious expressions. Either way, they all seem to be happy. On the right side, an older gentleman in glasses- Magnus Hirschfeld- is sitting. He has short hair and a bushy mustache. He is resting one hand on the shoulder of the person in front of him. His other hand is being held by a person to his left. Another person to his right is holding his shoulder.]

There was always push back against the Institute, especially from conservatives who saw all of this as a bad thing. But conservatism can't stop progress without destroying it. They weren't willing to go that far for a good while. It all ended in March of 1933, when a new Chancellor was elected. The Nazis did not like homosexuals for several reasons. Chief among them, we break the boundaries of "normal" society. Shortly after the election, on May 6th, the book burnings began. The Jewish, gay, and obviously liberal Magnus Hirschfeld and his library of boundary-breaking literature was one of the very first targets. Thankfully, Hirschfeld was spared by virtue of being in Paris at the time (he would die in 1935, before the Nazis were able to invade France). His library wasn't so lucky.

This famous picture of the book burnings was taken after the Institute of Sexology had been raided. That's their books. Literature on so much about sexuality, eroticism, and gender, yes including their new work on trans people. This is the trans community's Alexandria. We're incredibly lucky that enough of it survived for Harry Benjamin and everyone who came after him was able to build on the Institute's work.

[Image ID: A black and white photo of the May Nazi book burning of the Institute of Sexology's library. A soldier, back facing the camera, is throwing a stack of books into the fire. In the background of the right side, a crowd is watching.]

As the Holocaust went on, the homosexuals of Germany became a targeted group. This did include transgender people, no matter what you say. To deny this reality is Holocaust denial. JK Rowling and everyone else who tries to pretend like this isn't reality is participating in that evil. You're agreeing with the Nazis.

But of course, you knew that already, didn't you?

Edit: Added image IDs. I apologize to those using screen readers for forgetting them. Please reblog this version instead.

[tigerbears]

Interesting fact about myself, I used to be an Elon Musk fan.

(Special emphasis on the words USED TO BE! Please put down your pitchforks I'm about to explain why he's terrible after explaining why I used to like him. Most of the time was back when I thought i was cis, straight, and a man and not trans, gay, and a women.)

I haven't really said this before on my blog, but I'm a huge space nerd. Reusable rockets like the Falcon 9 are cool, it saves millions of dollars in costs because you don't have to make a new rocket every single time you want to send something to space.

You know, one step closer to the cool outer space future that totally should be in the hands of a completely sane person who wont waste tens of billions of dollars on a social media website, and then proceed to make terrible decision after terrible decision running said website.

So like 5 to 10 years ago I was like "ooo rocket cool Elon Musk own rocket therefor Elon Musk cool" (even though the idea was likely thought up by some un-credited rocket scientist or something and their the real cool one instead of Elon idk.)

Anyway, fast forward a few years, a few things change (like realizing I'm a girl) and then I hear people talking about how "Elon Musk claims that CIS and CISGENDER are SLURS on Twitter"

My first thought was "ok that cant be real. That's too stupid to be real I'm going to fact check this and see that it's—"

Then I find his tweet and its real; then I see him replying and agreeing with a TERF account which claimed that the word 'cis' was created by a pedophile in the 90s, even though cis in a trans context didn't originate with that dude (and could be dated possibly way earlier then the 90s), and the word outside of a trans-context is OVER 2000 YEARS OLD, DATING BACK TO ANCIENT ROMAN LATIN!

Cis literally is just the opposite of trans because that's how the prefix was used in ancient Latin! Trans means "on the other side" while cis means "on this side" and is not just used in a transgender context. (E.G, trans-continental ballistic missiles are not transgender.)

This is why I'm planning to never make a twitter account as long as the Muskrat is in charge. (just like facebook because I dont want them to get my info!)

Got a question to any trans ex-harry potter fans, did you feel the same way when Rowling went mask off on her TERFness? Kind of feel like this is the trans space nerd equivalent of that.

[fated-normal-767]

I love making characters. whatever. Gay And Transgender Robot. Also He’s Unwell In The Brain. I can make whatever I want.

[terastalungrad]

Sometimes, you’re a comedian with a touring show to promote, so you do an interview with a regional newspaper.

I think that’d be the funniest possible time to reveal a big scoop, wouldn’t it?

Stewart Lee is currently touring, and to promote his Yeovil performance, gave an interview to Blackmore Vale Magazine.  According to Wikipedia, the Blackmore Vale is an area of north Dorset, south Somerset and southwest Wiltshire.  According to the comedian Jake Baker, the magazine would cover his school sports day as he grew up in Dorset.  That’s the level of news you’d expect.

The questions are friendly and easy, from a journalist clearly familiar with Lee’s work and history.

The first question is about the show’s angle.  Lee describes the nature of the show, and here’s an excerpt:

So it looks like stand-up, and sounds like stand-up, but it’s actually a kind of character piece about a desperate person who’s frightened and trying to organise the world in a way that puts them in control. And I guess you could argue that’s what a lot of stand-ups are doing anyway. Ricky Gervais to me looks like a very frightened man. He’s frightened of transgender people coming after him, the act is a defensive wall.

Fun!  This is a Ricky Gervais hate blog, so it’s nice to see a sudden, unexpected attack in an unrelated promotional interview.

Lee mentions Gervais again in response to question four.

Sometimes I become bitter and think ‘I get all this good press, why can’t I get 10 million quid for a TV special like Ricky Gervais?’ But on the other hand, I wouldn’t want that audience, it wouldn’t allow me to be better.

And then again to question eight, where Lee explains why he spends six months running new shows in the relatively small Leicester Square Theatre (as opposed to arena comics who might do 10 warmup shows followed by 60 tour dates).

You can still run it like a club gig, you can interact with people in real time. Also, you wouldn’t get better at the show because you wouldn’t have done it as many times. You can see this with an act like Gervais. Those shows have not been run in, they’re not fluid, they’re a succession of inflexible statements that would snap like twigs if the pressure of an unforeseen event was applied to them.

The journalist finally addresses this head on.  It really is worth reading the entire article - there’s a lot more than I’m quoting, including an interesting story about Sean Lock:

But here are my favourite bits:

[Gervais] still kind of copies me though, which is the weird thing. There’s still a lot of cadences of what I do but they’re used in the service of evil. In Star Wars, he’s Darth Vader and he’s taken the force, which is me, and used it for evil purposes. He was a fanboy, he was actually the booker at University of London and used to book me and Sean Lock all the time. And when he became famous for the Office, he wrote an hour-long act that was so indebted to us it was awkward. [...] If he’d come up through the circuit that would have been rubbed off him because you find your own voice doing club gigs. It took me two years of gigging five nights a week to come through the mesh of things I liked. But he didn’t have that experience in the same way. [...] Funnily enough, in his first show there were bits I’d never recorded that he’d do almost verbatim. He’d clearly remembered them. I went to see him at the Bloomsbury – on his invitation actually – with my then girlfriend and she was very concerned for me. I’d given up at that point due to lack of interest, and she was concerned for what it felt like to see my act being done to hundreds of people, it was quite weird. On the other hand, that sort of did make me think I don’t want it to be consumed into someone else’s vocabulary. And also, I think because he had a residual sense of guilt, he would always credit me in interviews as being an influence – that helped me in 2004 to get the audience back.

This is, to my knowledge, the first time Lee’s ever claimed that Gervais stole his material.  He’s certainly talked about Gervais clearly taking influence from him (though in the past, he downplayed this compared to the account given in this interview).

It’s a pretty big thing to accuse a comic of stealing material.  That’s a big taboo.  I reckon this is partly because Lee wants to discourage fans of Gervais from coming to the show.

Anyway, let’s finish by quoting the end of the interview:

It must be strange to have that level of financial remuneration and those audience figures but not really a single good review. And I expect what that does for you is create a cognitive dissonance where you have to manufacture a worldview by which the whole world is wrong and you’re right. Which can’t necessarily be very good for your mental health, although I expect the money’s nice.

[wyrmzier]

Artists that inspire me!

I'm a huge fan of art and these are only skimming the top of the wonders of the artist community and those that inspire me.

@iliothermia a trans Jewish artist who creates undeniably trans and Jewish art!!! Hyde's linework and composition is masterful, and his attention to detail is immaculate. He has a shop where he sells beautiful high quality prints, stickers, pins, bookmarks, and a few other odds and ends! Oh, did I mention he draws everything with a MOUSE!

@eleheba another trans Jewish artist I adore. Skilled in black and white work and color. Composition is crazy. It's the kind of work I'd think to find in old medieval books. They're definitely a modern day master artist. They also have a shop!

@stayatsam this artist has inspired me endlessly and got me into portraiture. Another transgender W. Sammi creates beautiful portraits with a unique coloring style. Edgy, gothic, and beautiful.

@littlestpersimmon I'm struggling to find the words to describe how incredible this artist's work is. Dreamy, ethereal, romantic, and detailed. He create enchanting mlm pieces inspired by southeast Asian art and culture.

@godivaghoul an erotica artist who creates dashing gothic scenes. Beautiful women with spectacular line art...need I say more?

@wiltkingart dark and moody paintings with incredible use of color. A focus on trans mlm. Another artist that deeply inspires me.

@skulkingfoxes on instragram and Twitter (edit: and now tumblr!) Rowan has incredible lineart and character design. They have several comics as well as a shop! Their composition and use of black and white is skillful and immaculate. I wish I could steal their hands

@the-nothing-maker their art always wows me. They have amazing control over color and use colored pencils!!! Genuinely their work GLOWS I wish I could see them in person.

@bunabi another master of color and character design. All her art feels soft and dreamy. She also make brush packs!

@rennybu where do I start... Adrienne's art is colorful, soulful, and dreamy. And so so tender. Not to mention they're incredibly kind! Here's a commission I got from them...agh I'm tearing up

Unfortunately I've run out of image space. The list could go on until I've named every artist on the internet. I hope you give these wonderful people a follow!

And of course all my wonderful art friends but you can just check out my tag #friend art

[bxyp]

Could you maybe do something with a ftm reader who has a lot of scars and tattoos especially on his back and like Ghost sees him shirtless for the first time? Without Ghost knowing your trans? And it just being fluff and a little bit of angst?

If you don't feel comfortable doing this its okay!!

Sincerely: a very cool person

His priority is your well-being, not some scars you have.

Summary: You have been shot, and Ghost, as your comrade, helps you treat the wound. What could go wrong?

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x FTM Reader

warnings: SWF content, "Ghost" '22, transphobia is mentioned, post-surgery scars are described, military, soldier! reader, blood, wounds were mentioned, reader gets shot.

word count: 592

Being transgender in the military wasn't easy. Sneaking into the shower right after everyone had left to just take a shower, just without anyone knowing. Just to make sure no one judges or looks weird. It wasn't easy in the army. The service here was even harder…

Being wounded in the line of duty was not unusual, even the best soldier could receive a scratch. And even now you are leaning against some old tree in East Asia. Things never go according to plan, that's part of the job.

Eyes barely open, this job is not for the weak. That's why you clench your teeth while Ghost starts pulling you out of your gear to put bandages on your gunshot wound on shoulder. Of course you wish you could do it by yourself but right now you priority was to not get infection.

"Keep your eyes open, soldier." Ghost’s harsh tone didn’t let you relax even for a second, which was probably for the best. He didn't pay much attention to your tattoos or scars, figuring he could take a closer look at them once he stitched you up.

You feel his gloved hands slowly pour the alcohol onto your shoulder. Sharp pain simply drowned out all your thoughts. Every cell of your body felt like it was on fire. "Fuck! Be gentle, I’m bleeding.” You spat as soon as you unclenched your teeth. Everything hurt so much, your mind could barely focus on one thought.

"I'm well aware of that." He said that once he found the nearest piece of cloth to cover the bleeding, he would help you get to your feet and get to the nearest evacuation site.

He picked up the radio and said something, but you could barely hear what. Only thing you got was that he said that you had been shot and you both needed to evacuate as soon as possible. He probably said something else, but your head hurt, along with that damn shoulder that felt like it was being cut off, slowly, piece by piece. His skillful hands quickly tightened some fabric on your shoulder. And without giving you time to come to your senses, he picked you up, throwing your good arm over his shoulder. “The evacuation helicopter will be there in a few minutes. Get back on your feet."

You both slowly walked towards the place Ghost lead you to. Only now did you remember that he probably saw your scars… Those top surgery scars that you covered with everything you could. Those scars that you hid. These white lines are right under your pecs. You worked hard to make them hard to see. But neither cream nor some beaty products could remove them. A constant reminder of who you were born…

Anxiety rise in you, your stomach became a tight knot. You're afraid that he saw the scars that you tried to hide. “So, about what you saw…” You were afraid he might tell someone. The military was not the most acceptable place. Here you will have to fight not only on the battlefield, but also earn your place among others.

“I don’t care who you are, lad. My job is to keep you alive, not to pry into your personal life.” His words can be harsh and cold. But you don't see any condemnation here. He considers you his equal. Ghost wasn't the nicest person, but he wasn't an asshole who treated you differently just because you weren't like him.

The rescue helicopter was visible in the distance…

MAIN MASTERLIST | AO3 | TWITTER

𝔑𝔬𝔱 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥. ℑ'𝔪 𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔤𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔲𝔰𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 ℑ'𝔳𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔞𝔴𝔞𝔶 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔞 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔢. ℑ 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔦𝔱 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔰𝔲𝔭𝔭𝔬𝔰𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔟𝔢 𝔞 𝔣𝔩𝔲𝔣𝔣 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔶, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 ℑ 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔨 𝔦𝔱 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔣𝔦𝔱 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔊𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔱'𝔰 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯.

[coochiequeens]

A patient said something she thought was in confidence and he (the doctor) shared it with staff? And now TRAs are harassing a woman fighting breast cancer? That doctor needs to lose his license for violating patient confidentiality

A woman in Oregon receiving treatment for breast cancer has been dropped by her health clinic of 12 years because she expressed views critical of gender ideology.

Marlene Barbera, who is scheduled for a mastectomy later this month, told Reduxx that she had commented on the presence of a transgender pride flag that was hanging in the waiting room of the Richmond Family Medical Clinic in Portland last year.

Barbera explained that she had written a message to her doctor on MyChart, a website where patients can access their personal health information, describing that she found the inclusion of “political messaging in a healthcare setting” as “offensive.”

She, like a growing number of women, has “gender critical” views, rejecting modern ideologies that conflate biological sex and “gender identity.” Barbera mentioned she had faced rape and death threats from trans activists on X (formerly Twitter), many of whom would have identified with that same flag.

Initially, the Doctor, who she revealed had been her primary care provider for over ten years, said that he would not take the flag down. But while Barbera had initially believed their correspondence to be private, she later discovered that the note to her physician had been viewed and shared by other staff at the clinic.

This June, while attempting to leave a message for her doctor regarding blood test results, the issue continued to escalate. A receptionist at the clinic, who Barbera speculated was transgender, did not permit her to be patched through to her doctor.

“The person insisted I make an appointment. I have breast cancer and consequently an abundance of medical appointments so I did not want to do that. They got frustrated with my ‘non-compliance’ and hung up on me,” Barbera told Reduxx.

“Thinking it might have been in error, I called back. I was told I was ‘not allowed’ and that I must speak to the previous person who had hung up on me. I declined as things hadn’t gone well the first time.”

She then questioned whether the refusal from the first receptionist was due to her previous complaint about the trans pride flag in the lobby.

“I asked, guessing ‘did I hurt the trans person’s feelings?’ And the receptionist took offense to the question, asking ‘what did you say‘ slowly and with great emphasis.”

Weeks later, Barbera received an email from Oregon Health Science University’s (OHSU) Stein Berger, informing her that she had been “discharged from receiving medical care at the Richmond Family Medicine Clinic,” effective immediately, with services to be cut off from all OHSU Family Medicine Clinics, including immediate care clinics, from July 29th. The email did in fact specify that she was being removed “because of ongoing disrespectful and hurtful remarks about our LGBTQ community and staff.”

Barbera told Reduxx that the incident had sent her “anxiety through the roof” and that she was struggling with her mental health as a result of the stress.

“I have severe chronic agitated depression since teen years,” Barbera explains. “Now I have no primary care doctor and nowhere else to go. I have been made to feel like a worthless nothing.”

This is not the first time a woman has lost access to critical medical services due to her “gender critical” views.

In October of last year, a woman identified as Emma by the UK’s Daily Mail was banned from having an operation in London’s Princess Grace Hospital because she requested single sex accommodation. The woman, who had been scheduled for a complex colorectal operation, also expressed that she did not want to “use pronouns or engage with such manifestations of gender ideology.”

Despite having experience being the victim of sexual assault, Emma was banned from having her procedure at the facility for requesting single-sex care.

[jedimaesteryoda]

Where I live three schools attempted to pass measures requiring the teachers to notify the parents if their kids are trans, or basically forcibly outing transgender kids to their parents. Thankfully, there are a large number of people coming out opposing this measure, but unfortunately, the "parents rights" crowd is also coming out in support.

I've argued with people on social media supporting the policy saying the parents should be obligated to be notified if their kids are trans, it is their right. The subject of "parent rights" is actually historically familiar.

Hegel, himself a school principal, was a proponent of universal public education, explicitly saying "The State has the absolute duty to make sure that children receive an education." He noted its value towards society allowing poor families to "rise above their condition" and have the children "develop talents" that would otherwise be stifled by poverty. While his position is pretty much modern, he had his opponents who stated it violated "rights of individuals" specifically "those of fathers over their children."

Hegel criticized such arguments, saying it took from the ancient tradition of Rome that reduced children to "things" and saw the child as the property of their parents when "he must be a member of civil society, has rights and claims within it, just like those he had within the family" and "children have the rights to be educated to live in civil society, and if parents neglect this right, civil society must intervene." In other words, he saw "parents' rights" as reducing children to property with no rights rather than people deserving of their own rights, especially the right to an education.

Let's say CPS comes over and takes kids from a horribly abusive household, would that action be considered bad for violating the rights of the parents to their kids? No, because to do so would come at the cost of the kids' rights to a safe and healthy environment.

Which brings us to the present topic of outing trans kids. The proponents are saying it is the "right" of the parents to be told if their kids are trans regardless of their child's consent. They don't mention the child's right to consent, nor do they care, since it is not about the best interests of the child but the parents' control over their children. If a child has not disclosed their identity to their parents, then it is not unlikely that there is a good reason for it. Their parents may be transphobes, and such parents may respond to the knowledge of their child being trans with abuse, by trying to "fix" them, force them to be cis, up to and including conversion therapy, and in a number of cases kick them out, or the teen runs away with LGBT teens making up around 40% of homeless youth. Both actions can increase the child's chances of suicide with ~30% of trans teen girls admitting to having attempted suicide. In the worst cases, there are parents who kill their trans kids.

A parent is supposed to provide for their child in material terms with food, clothes and housing as well as emotional support, but a parent should not say "I feed and house them, so I have a right to . . ." as parenting is not a contract given kids did not choose to be born. "Parents rights" is BS as parenting is not a right but a privilege. The child is the one with a right to a safe, comfortable environment, and so long as the parent provides them that, their privilege of being a parent is respected.

Children are people. Trans people are people. They are members of civil society, and have a right to consent and safety. Don't support outing trans kids to their parents. Period.

[qdbs-writes]

May I have a slightly strange request?  Raiden and Fujin's reaction to their crush suddenly saying "God save Johnny Cage" (the reader and Cage are friends and this phrase just escaped by chance and was not even intended for anyone in particular)

nonny, i promise you this is like the least strange thing i've had in my inbox lately

Fujin and Raiden React To Their Crush Saying "God Save Johnny Cage"

It was like any other day in the Sky Temple, or, as normal as the Sky Temple could be. In the last few weeks, you'd been setting up your friendly neighbourhood Shinto deities with some more modern Earthrealm technology, the latest edition being a TV. It was nothing fancy, an old Goodmans 1408 that you had lying around. The real challange was hooking it up to modern channels. After some percussive maintenance, you tune the CRT TV to a talk show featuring Johnny Cage. The storm brothers gathered behind you, enchanted by the flickering screen you had brought to life for them. The interview itself was relatively dull, with Johnny being asked about his latest movie or suspected liasions with other Hollywood actors. It was until the interviewer mentioned one of Johnny's costars, an actor who'd been publicly outed as transgender, and asked if Johnny could ever work with the 'dirty, immoral liar' again. The three of you watch as Johnny begins to shout at the interviewer, screaming that they had no right to say that about his costar. The arguement continues until Johnny punches the interviewer across the jaw, before turning to the camera crew and live audience to speak about the importance of trans rights. But he could only get a few words in before the program cuts off, with a 'We Are Experiencing Technical Difficulties' message. The storm Gods share a look while you nod your head proudly. "God save Johnny Cage." you mutter. You didn't have time to think about the nuances of what you had said in front of the two Gods, but decided that it was more amusing to let them come to their own conclusions.

Fujin

Recently Fujin had been building up the courage to reveal his feelings towards you. He was sure of how he felt but painfully unsure of how to go about it. He had asked his brother, Raiden, who was little help. He had even asked other Earthrealmers, although he did his best to hide your identity as the object of his affections.

Fujin knew one thing, that if he couldn't tell you, then he absolutely couldn't tell any of your friends, what if they stepped in? What if they said something to you that gave you a bad opinion of him? What if someone stole your heart first?

There were far too many ways it could all go terribly wrong. And now he was even more confused. "God save Johnny Cage", what did those words mean? Well he knew what they meant, but why would you say them?

Fujin was a god, did you want him to save Johnny? If that were the case, Johnny didn't seem to be in any danger. If you really cared that much about Johnny, maybe it's time Fujin confessed his feelings for you before it's too late.

When the two of you are alone, Fujin will drop to his knee dramatically, "I vow to protect Johnny Cage for you, because since the day we met, I have loved you, and I will do all in my power to make you happy, even if you love another."

Fujin emotionally braces, expecting rejection, but instead hears your delighted squeals as you wrap your arms around him, saying how you love him too, pressing soft kisses to his cheek.

Raiden

For the last few months, Raiden had been delicately calculating how to best start a relationship with you. Part of that was navigating how you felt about others, and if he had any competition to worry about.

From what he had seen, your relationship with Johnny Cage was platonic at best. But Johnny was also more experienced in courting techniques and had succeeded in gaining many partners over his short, mortal lifetime.

Raiden's heart sinks at the idea that perhaps Cage's charm had reached you through the television, ensnaring you enough to make you say "God save Johnny Cage".

He knew the meaning behind that saying, he wasn't a complete fool. To ask a god to save someone was a verbal decleration of your devotion to someone, your pride in them, how you wish their lives to be long and happy.

Weren't all those things the sum of love? Those were certainly all the things Raiden wished for you. For you to suddenly feel this way towards Cage... The only explaination was the TV, clearly a cursed device that you must be protected from.

Que Raiden launching the TV over the nearest balcony when you aren't looking, if you ask where it went, Raiden will feign ignorance and instead invite you for a walk in the gardens, offering his arm for you to take.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

aita for making a thread on twt against an ex online teammate?

cw: suicide baiting, mentions of grooming, possible sexting, transphobia, mentions of NSFW but no outright specifics

i (15 f) had this friend, who well call aj (fake name) (18-19 ftm i believe) back in october of last year. for context we met in a quick match when i was 14 and he was 17-18 in a video game where i also met another friend, moto (fake alias) (14 f at the time, now 15). after a few matches where we would be randomly matched together he sent me the invite to his discord server and i joined. eventually as more people joined the server (at most there were 20 or more people in the server before its deletion, most of which were minors and we were around her 'adult' friends who were anywhere from 18-30)

we would talk alot (and aj would insert herself into any conversation possible) but we would eventually have our disagreements which would end with aj threatening to kill himself, eventually this became the norm and we stopped giving a shit when he would threaten to kill himself because of how frequently he threatened it (kind of like a cry wolf situation)

around the time we stopped caring about his suicide baiting he switched tatics and tried to guilt trip us into apologizing to him for questioning her behavior (e.x. using the fact that he was neurodivergent, to elaborate someone would say "hey stop saying your going to kill yourself" and he would go "its something called a brain problem" or "i dont have pills to help me", basically blamed all of his actions on his alleged 'brain problem'). we still proceeded to not care because of how frequently he lied

on top of this, he had this streak of calling asian characters within the game feminine? a specific case (and the straw that broke the camels back for alot of my teammates) was when she called a well-loved chinese character from the game something along the lines of a femboy because they wore a traditional chinese outfit that was not "manly" (basically, didnt stop where a normal shirt stopped. im not sure what it was called and google didnt really help...) during the same time, aj identified as transgender (i believe he still does, but i no longer interact with him) and said trans women werent women because they dont get periods???

on top of this, he would also publicly do nsfw things with the adults of the server (none of the chats were role restricted. this wasnt a thing until i became a server admin and then shut it down not even 3 weeks later) and would also share nsfw/18+ topics in the server. even after the "nsfw" chat was there (we were still figuring out how to restrict it [i was coming back from a 2 year internet hiatus]) the other adults still did things along the lines of erp. aj encouraged this behavior and eventually in his new server and was talking about these things with minors (aj is about 19-20)

so after a few months of off-and-on gathering evidence (what you have just read + plus screenshots) from numerous people from his server i post the thread, and almost instantly it got posted to his server. i have a friend in that server who ended up voice chatting with him and moto (who is under a different alias in the server) and aj is literally sobbing, threatening to kill himself, and has his entire family in his room who are all looking at the thread as well. they all basically say that he doesnt look too good in the screenshots and "what were you thinking talking to these people" type of situation. aj ends up deleting the server a few days later, messages undercover-moto that he isnt making anymore servers.

im wondering if i went too far? aita?

What are these acronyms?

[judethejudas]

Hello! Trans male reader here so just a question + request so you do male reader stuff, and I was wanting to request possibly the boys specifically soap, könig and ghost (maybe gaz) their reactions of finding out the reader is trans aka maybe seeing the scars ? I do hope it's okay to request this

COD MW2— How they would react to you having top surgery (trans man reader)

Warning: use of terms describing fem! body parts (boobs, tits)

König:

- The two of you were training together when it happened and the practice fight between resulted in heavy sweating.

- Naturally, you took your shirt off during the break to cool down and König saw the scars on your chest.

- You asked him what he was looking at and he quickly turned his gaze to the side, not realizing he was just gawking at you.

- “Ah.. sorry. I was just.. ah.” He trailed off into quietness as he felt embarrassed.

- You only chuckled and told him you had top surgery, but he had no clue what that surgery was for.

- It took more explaining that you were a transgender man and that you had the boobie-be-gone surgery to make you feel more comfy in your skin.

- Obviously he was shocked because he didn’t know you were trans to begin with, so expect him to sheepishly ask questions about it— if you were alright with it of course.

- You had no problem talking to him about it since you considered him a good friend, and you trusted him to not make fun of you or shame you.

- König is very supportive of you and he constantly mentions to you how courageous and strong you are. You’re very lucky to have someone like him by your side.

- This man doesn’t have a mean bone in his body when it comes to things like gender and sexuality. Be who you are and he’s happy for you.

- Oh, but if someone decides to be transphobic to you? This man can get very angry, and reassure you afterwards that you’re a man no matter what.

Ghost:

- He’s watching you and the other privates going through training when it happened. Everyone is crawling under barbed wire in the field and it got very muddy.

- After training in the dirt, you peel off your shirt and grab your clean one that’s next to the benches. That’s when Ghost eyes the scars on your chest.

- He doesn’t judge. He has plenty of scars himself, but yours are different. They’re surgical.

- He doesn’t want to pry because he doesn’t actually care, it was simple curiosity.

- You catch him looking at you and you smile.

- “Top surgery. Didn’t like my tits too much so I had ‘em chopped off.”

- He’s not an easy man to surprise, but the way you were so nonchalant about it took him back a little.

- Like König, this man didn’t expect you to be trans but he wasn’t going to delve into your origin story.

- This man simply does not care for those things, he only cared about making sure the people here were trained properly so they don’t die.

- Ah, but he was caught staring. Better play it cool.

- “Get back to training, private. You got another hour on the field.” “Yes, lieutenant.”

- Doesn’t care about what gender or sexuality you are either, he has more important things on his mind.

- He did admire you a little though, that you have the balls to pursue what makes you happy and comfortable with yourself. Good on you, private.

Soap:

- Soap was hitting the showers after some hard training with Ghost and desperately needed to clean the sweat and dirt off.

- But he heard one of the shower heads on and someone washing up. So he wouldn’t be alone then. That’s fine.

- He did what he needed in the shower and when he came out, he saw you looking in the mirror shaving.

- Soap also noticed the scars on your chest when he was looking at your face in the mirror.

- You see him looking at you and you smirk, putting the razor down on the countertop.

- “You wanna know how I got these scars, sergeant?”

- Was that a goddamn joker reference? He had to chuckle at that.

- “Had my boobs hacked off a year ago. Gender affirming surgery if you wanna get technical.”

- Now he was shocked. And confused. Gender affirming? Wait, which gender?

- “So.. you’re a..?” “A man, sergeant.” “.. I knew that.”

- You both share a laugh and joke about it with each other. He was a silly ‘lil guy.

- “I gotta say, your chest looks way better than mine.” He says as he sneaks glances between yours and his. “You gotta tell me your surgeon.”

- “I’ll give you his number, so long as you give me yours.” Damn, you’re a smooth talker too? He might just fall in love.

- “I’ll take your word for it, private.”

_________________

I genuinely believe our boys do not give a flying fadoodle about gender or sexuality. You’re on the battlefield for gods sake who needs to know about stuff like that.

Also SORRY for my delay in getting to requests and other fics. I do have plenty that are in the works but this was the easiest to write down quickly enough because I feel bad for the lack of content.

[supernaturalscribe67]

Lucky

Words: 4,699

POV: 3rd Person

Pairing: Dean/Sam Winchester x Trans!FTM!Winchester!Reader [Platonic]

Warning(s): Mention of surgery, references to top surgery recovery, slight gore (maybe?), language (also, maybe?), loving and supportive family members, fluff

Summary: Top surgery was never something the reader thought was possible. With the help of Sam, he was able to make his dream come true, and his brothers are there for him to help while he's in recovery.

Request:

I would absolutely love Dean and Sam with a younger trans brother who just got top surgery and is in recovery? Just fluff of like helping him wash his hair or getting things for him and reassuring them? Love your content so much!! It so nice to see some more trans content in the supernatural fandom :)

@cometcreates

A/N: I am so sorry this took a little longer to get out than I planned - work has been extremely hectic and draining recently - but I hope you like it! Let me know what you think! Feedback is greatly appreciated!

Much love!

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

People define luck in many different ways. Some say luck is a dollar bill lying on the ground, some say it’s a passing grade once they get their tests back, and others say it’s their true love. (Y/N), however, would define his luck as waking up every morning in the Men of Letters bunker with his brothers. 

Years ago when he came out to his older brothers as transgender, although they were a little confused at first, they were fully supportive. They did everything in their power to make sure that their little brother was comfortable, not only in their home and out in public but in his skin as well. They purchased a binder for him, got him better clothing, adjusted rather quickly to his name and pronoun change, and got defensive - sometimes a little too much - whenever someone misgendered him. With all that they were doing for him, (Y/N) couldn’t imagine how luckier he could get. He already had an amazing support system, what else could he need? 

At the end of last year, Sam approached him and asked him if he had been wanting to get top surgery, something they had talked about once or twice, but never regularly. When (Y/N) showed his interest in getting the surgery, Sam told him that he had done some research about different places where he could potentially get the procedure done, as well as all the criteria that certain places needed for him to qualify. After they sat and talked for a while, they concluded that, with Sam’s assistance, they would get started on (Y/N)’s journey toward top surgery. 

The months following consisted of semi-monthly visits with a psychologist Sam found in Hays, KS - all of the medical professionals required a steady diagnosis of gender-dysphoria from a registered psychologist to be able to consider the patient for the operation - as well as reading up on the aftermath of the surgery and what was to be expected. Of course, (Y/N) knew he would get all of the information from his surgeon before it was done, but he wanted to make sure he was well-informed and nothing was left out of the consultation. 

The consultation went well, and, after waiting for an eternity in the examination room, the doctor finally came in and set up the date for the surgery. (Y/N) was over the moon, and he immediately began to count down the days. Sam and Dean helped him get all of the necessary items he needed for the surgery recovery; various snacks, scar care creams, a surgical binder, a mastectomy pillow, and an extremely cozy blanket that he had begged them to buy. Even after they had gotten everything on the list, occasionally, they would buy something they thought would be beneficial for the recovery period. 

Then, they waited. Day after day went by and (Y/N) found it difficult to focus on hunting rather than the anxiety and anticipation that bubbled within him, but his brothers kept him grounded in times of distress. They could tell just how excited he was, and they never wanted to dampen the mood by turning his focus back on the job. They wanted him to keep that enthusiasm even after he had the surgery. When the day of the surgery came, they didn’t even try to calm his excitement. Just seeing how happy he was made them feel the same. 

The surgery went well. The recovery was going to be the hard part. The doctor made sure to prescribe him pain medication, which the brothers had picked up before they left the surgical center to head back to the bunker, and gave him a pamphlet describing all of his recovery needs in grave detail. Of course, they had already been well-prepared for the occasion, but it was nice to have it on hand. (Y/N) stayed in the hospital under observation for two days until he was finally released, clad in nothing but a pair of shorts, some slides, his surgical binder, the drainage tubes and bulbs connected to each incision underneath the binder, and one of Sam’s flannels that rested against his shoulders, keeping the front open to allow his chest to breathe. After he was wheeled and loaded into the back of the car, the three brothers made the drive back home. 

By the time the Impala edged its way into the well-lit garage, the sun had gone down, and the night sky was littered with stars. It wasn’t a long way to Lebanon from Kansas City, about five hours depending on traffic, but the trip wasn’t entirely painless. (Y/N) was thankful for the medications he was given after his surgery, but the bumpy backroads in Kansas were ruthless and did little to provide a comfortable drive home. He initially tried to sleep through the journey, but every pothole they hit - accompanied by an apology from his oldest brother - sent another wave of discomfort coursing through his chest. He had never felt more joy in his entire life than when he saw the familiar dirt road as he and his brothers got closer to the bunker. 

Dean parked the car and killed the engine. He turned, arm draped over the back of the front seat. “You feeling okay?” He asked. 

(Y/N) glanced over at him and gave a small nod. He adjusted himself and winced as the pain shot through his arms and chest. “Just sore, hurts like hell. When am I due for my next round of meds, Sammy?” He turned to his older brother in the passenger’s seat. 

Sam looked back at him for a moment and then down at his phone screen. “You should be able to take some more now. Why don’t we get you inside and into your bed first? That way we can get you something to eat and drink with your medicine.” 

“No food,” (Y/N) groaned. “I don’t feel like eating now.” 

“You have to eat something.” 

“Fine, I’ll eat some crackers, or something small, or one of those snack cakes I got, but I really can’t eat anything filling right now. I’ll eat some more in the morning when I’m feeling better.” 

“Alright,” 

“Now, can someone let me out? These doors are surprisingly heavy.” 

“Yeah!” Dean said, quick to jump out of the car and head towards the back passenger’s side. He opened the door and held out a hand. 

(Y/N) smiled weakly as he reached over and grabbed Dean’s hand. He was slow to move out of the seat and plant his feet on the ground. When he stood, his legs shook, but he let out a sigh of relief. His legs were weak. The recovery had consisted of laying in his hospital bed and, occasionally, getting up and taking a few steps inside his room, just to keep the blood flowing in his legs. With the lack of energy he had and the five-hour ride back, his legs felt completely numb, as if they were made of Jell-O. 

Dean held (Y/N)’s hand tightly while his opposite arm wrapped around his waist. He moved him away from the car and shut the door. The two of them made their way to the bunker door. Sam jumped out of the car and caught up with them as they walked inside. When they were greeted with the metal stairs that landed in the War Room, (Y/N) stopped. He let out a sigh of defeat. 

“This is going to hurt like Hell,” he mumbled. He reached a shaky arm over and grasped the railing until his knuckles paled. 

“We’ll take it slow,” Dean nodded softly. 

(Y/N) returned the nod and they began to walk down the stairs, one step at a time. The entire time they walked, Dean held onto him tightly, both of their eyes cast down towards the steps. Each step, despite the snail’s pace they walked at, made a jolt of pain shoot through (Y/N)’s back. A pained expression crossed his face multiple times as he pressed his lips together tightly. 

Finally, they reached the bottom of the stairs and another contempt sigh left (Y/N)’s lips. Sam brushed past them. 

“I’m going to grab your crackers and water and meet you in your room, okay?” He placed a gentle hand on (Y/N)’s shoulder. 

“Sounds good,” (Y/N) flashed a thumbs-up towards him before Sam walked down the hallway, toward the kitchen. 

(Y/N) was a little quicker when they walked through the halls, and he was thankful when they reached his room. He wasted no time parting himself from his brother and making his way over to his bed. Despite his shaky legs, he held himself up well. He turned on the lamp on his nightstand, illuminating the room with a faint yellow glow. 

His bed was neatly made with multiple pillows resting at the head - the doctor recommended that he slept elevated for the first week or so and then slept on his back for several months afterward. It would be an adjustment, but (Y/N) knew that he could get used to it. 

He climbed into his bed, careful of the collection bags on his chest, and crawled underneath the layers of blankets. Instantly, he relaxed into the plush mattress, head resting on the stack of pillows behind him. Dean waltzed deeper into the room, eyeing him carefully. 

“You okay?” He asked. 

“Better now that I’m in bed,” (Y/N) looked over at him. “Although it just feels like I’m in another hospital room.” 

“At least you won’t be eating any more hospital food,” 

(Y/N) grimaced. “Don’t remind me of that, I’ll throw up.” 

Sam entered the room, a bottle of water in one hand, the white bag with (Y/N)’s prescription narcotics tucked under his arm, and a small sleeve of saltines in the other. He set the water bottle and saltines down on the bedside table and opened the bag. He took out the orange pill bottle and fished out an oval-shaped white capsule. He handed it to (Y/N), who took it gratefully. He popped the pill into his mouth and drank some water to wash it down. 

“You should probably empty those soon,” Sam said, gesturing towards the bags that rested against (Y/N)’s stomach. 

(Y/N) glanced down at them and shook his head. “The doctor said every twelve hours should be good. They changed them right before I left the hospital, so they should be fine for right now.” 

“Alright, if you say so,” Sam crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you need anything? TV? Books? Some snacks?”

“I’m good, thanks. I think I’m going to catch some shuteye for a bit. That car ride took all the energy out of me.” 

Sam nodded and turned to walk towards the door. “If you need anything, let us know.” 

“I will, don’t worry.” 

“Seriously,” Dean piped up. “If you need anything, even if it’s small, just holler or shoot us a text.” 

(Y/N) couldn’t help but chuckle. The overprotective nature of his brothers was something that never changed. “I promise I’ll call if I need anything.” 

Dean and Sam both gave him a small smile before they turned and left the room, closing the door behind them. (Y/N) marveled in the silence. No nurses walking outside of his room, no snoring from his brothers on the pull-out beds, no heart monitors beeping constantly. It was peaceful. He reached over and turned off the lamp light, flooding the room, once again, with darkness. The darkness was something he missed. He would never take his pitch-black room for granted ever again. 

He awoke six hours later, around the time when the medication began to wear off and the pain resurfaced. He had tried to reach over to the nightstand and grab the pill bottle, but his arms were too stiff. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up, a grunt falling from his lips. The pain wasn’t as bad as it had been the day after surgery, it was mostly the sore tenderness he felt in his chest and back that bothered him. When his feet touched the floor, he was able to lean over and grab the pill bottle with ease. He uncapped it, took out another capsule, and popped it into his mouth, followed by a drink of water. The medication would start working in twenty minutes or so. 

The ache wasn’t only in his chest and back, however. As he downed the water, he felt it fall into his stomach. A gurgle sounded from his gut and he placed a hand over it. He probably shouldn’t have taken the medication on an empty stomach. He needed some food. For a moment, he considered the saltines on the bedside table but quickly tossed out the idea. They didn’t sound as appetizing as they had before he went to sleep, and even then he had only accepted them to make his brother feel better. He wanted some real food. He wanted some of the snack cakes that he got for the occasion. The real question was; could he get up and walk to the kitchen by himself without bothering his brothers? It was still early, so they were most likely asleep. They had been with him the entire time he was in the hospital, and he wanted to make sure that they got the sleep they deserved. 

(Y/N) placed his hands on his knees and let in a deep breath, his eyes falling closed for a second. With a quick exhale, he hoisted himself off of the bed. His legs quivered, and he had to reach back towards the bed to steady himself. After he stood for a couple of minutes, the blood seemed to flow back through his legs. They were unsteady, but less than they had been before. He shuffled his way towards his door and opened it, glancing up and down the hallways. He then made his way towards the kitchen. The sound of his stomach growling echoed throughout the corridor. 

“Damn, I’m getting you food, calm down,” (Y/N) mumbled to himself. 

It took a lot longer for him to get to the kitchen than it had taken to get to his room the night before. He was slow, uncomfortably so, and he hated it. He felt like an old man. At least I’m an old man without tits, he thought. 

When he got into the kitchen, he walked over to the pantry shelves and glanced up. Sat on the second highest shelf were the cupcakes that he had been craving. Those delicate, chocolatey, packaged goodies. They were teasing him with the pictures on the front of the box. He wanted one so bad, and he couldn’t even reach them. He could barely lift his arms enough to reach the shelf directly in front of him. He tried to scour the shelf in front of him for something that sounded at least a little bit appetizing, but nothing made his mouth water as much as the soft, chocolate cakes near the top of the pantry. 

Curse you, Hostess. 

Just as he was about to give up and pick something from a more accessible shelf, the sound of padded footsteps echoed down the hallway. (Y/N) turned his head towards the door as Sam entered. Sam furrowed his brows. 

“Hey, what’re you doing up?” 

“Oh, the pain medicine wore off, so I took another one. Plus I’m starving,” he then turned his gaze back to the cupcakes. 

“Do you want me to make you something for breakfast? I can make scrambled eggs.” 

“Sure,” (Y/N) shrugged. “But…I really…want a cupcake.” 

“For breakfast?” 

(Y/N) looked back at Sam. His bottom lip was pushed out in a small, child-like pout. His eyes were big and his brows were tilted up slightly. It was his own signature puppy-dog eyes. Sam’s puppy-dog eyes were good, but (Y/N)’s was better. Those eyes were the reason behind him getting to pick a place to eat or what movie they watched most of the time. 

Sam sighed as he walked over, grabbed the box of cupcakes, and ripped it open. He took out a package and handed it to (Y/N). (Y/N) beamed and ripped the plastic open. He took a big bite of the cupcake and hummed happily. 

“Ok, you have your cupcake, but I’m still going to make you some scrambled eggs. You need to have some real food in you.” 

“Cupcakes are real food, Samuel. Maybe you’d be happier if you ate one once in a while.” 

“And maybe you’d be happier if you ate healthier.” 

(Y/N) stuck his tongue out at Sam. Sam rolled his eyes and smirked before he walked over to the fridge. Meanwhile, (Y/N) trudged over to the table and sat down. 

“You should probably change your bags soon,” Sam said. 

(Y/N) glanced down at the bags and noticed that they were halfway full. He cursed under his breath. “Let me enjoy my cupcake and then I’ll empty them.” 

“Do you need help?” 

“Nah, I got it, thanks, though.” 

Sam smiled and nodded. Without hesitation, (Y/N) shoved the rest of the cupcake in his mouth, a hum of pleasure emitting from his throat. Sam grimaced and turned away. (Y/N) glanced over at him. 

“Don’t judge me,” he mumbled with a mouthful of food before he stood up and made his way to the bathroom to drain his bulbs.

Three days had passed, and (Y/N) had already started feeling better. His movement had increased, the pain was starting to diminish, and the fluid that filled the bulbs slowed. His mental health had noticeably improved and every time he looked in the mirror, admiring his newly sculpted chest, the smile would never fail to stick to his face for hours on end. One thing that he didn’t like about the recovery process though, something that stayed a consistent issue, was the lack of personal hygiene. 

When his doctor told him that he wouldn’t be able to shower for a while after the procedure, he didn’t think that it would affect him as much as it was. Granted, he still took whore baths, using a damp washcloth and some soap to clean his body off the best that he could, but he could still feel the grime that coated his skin. Specifically, his hair was what bothered him the most. It was wet with grease to the point where it could stand up without any assistance from haircare products. (Y/N) felt disgusting. He needed to get his hair clean, quickly, and he couldn’t do it by himself. If he leaned over too much, the strain on his chest would cause the pain to flair up. He needed help. Sam had been busy researching and assisting other hunters who had called while the brothers were on a break from hunting themselves, so (Y/N) went to the next best person.  

(Y/N) knocked on Dean’s door rhythmically. A faint ‘come in’ sounded from inside. He opened the door to see his brother on his bed, lying on his stomach, eyes glued to the television screen in front of him. 

“Hey,” Dean said with a smile. “How’re you doing, kiddo?” 

“Pretty good. The pain’s not as bad today. I was wondering if you could help me with something, though.” 

“Sure,” Dean reached over, grabbed the remote, and turned off the television. He shifted himself so that he was sitting down on the edge of the bed. “What do you need?” 

“Can you wash my hair for me?” 

“I thought you weren’t supposed to shower yet.” 

“I can’t get my chest wet, but I can clean the rest of my body. I’ve been taking whore baths for the past couple of days, but I haven’t been able to get my hair cleaned. Could you help me with that?” 

Dean hummed and pursed his lips. “Yeah,” he said as he stood up. “Meet me in the bathroom, I’ll be in there in a bit.” 

(Y/N) didn’t wait in the bathroom for long before Dean rounded the corner, a chair dragging behind him. He placed the chair in front of the sink and gestured to it. 

“Sit,” he said. 

(Y/N) awed. “It’s like a trashy hair salon.” 

Dean rolled his eyes and chuckled. He grabbed the shampoo and conditioner from the bathroom cabinet as (Y/N) sat down in the chair. He leaned his head back so that it rested against the cool basin. Dean walked over to the sink and glanced down at his head. He grimaced. 

“Damn, kid, you definitely need to wash that hair.” he reached down and touched a lock of his hair, wincing as he pulled his hand back, studying the sheen that the hair left on his fingers. “Ew.” 

“Thanks,” (Y/N) deadpanned. 

Dean smirked. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you all cleaned up.” 

Dean turned on the hot water, the spout shooting out the liquid into the sink. Dean began to run his fingers through (Y/N)’s hair. (Y/N) instinctively closed his eyes. Dean wet his hair, pouring the water over the locks with his cupped hands. 

(Y/N) could remember the last time he went to the hair salon. He was young, around the age of six, and Bobby had taken him to get his hair done. Even though Bobby seemed uncomfortable the entire time he was there, he wanted to make sure that (Y/N) had a somewhat normal childhood experience. (Y/N) was ecstatic, and enjoyed every minute of the haircut. His favorite part, however, was when the stylist was washing his hair. It was something about the way her fingers caressed his scalp, massaging the product into the roots of his hair, that brought an overwhelming sense of bliss. Dean’s fingers weren’t as gentle and soft as the stylist’s, but he sure knew how to give a good head massage. 

Two fingers gently tapped against the side of (Y/N)’s head. He opened his eyes and looked up at his brother. He hummed in acknowledgment. 

“I said ‘Do you like it’?” Dean repeated, a smirk curled into the corner of his lips. 

(Y/N) slowly nodded. The suds dripped down from the side of his head and caressed the outside of his ear. “Feels nice. You should have gone to cosmetology school.” 

Dean laughed. “I meant your chest. How do you…feel now?” 

“Oh,” (Y/N) let out a short laugh. “Honestly, I feel great. I don’t have to bind anymore, which means I won’t have to worry about hunts and catching my breath. I no longer have to worry about if clothes will fit me because of my chest. I don’t look in the mirror and hate what I see…” his voice trailed. “I look in the mirror and I see me. The me that I was supposed to be.” 

The two of them were silent for a while as Dean poured water over his hair, washing out the soap. His fingers caressed the back of (Y/N)’s scalp, watching intensely as the conditioner ran down the drain. 

“You know, if it makes you feel any better, Sammy and I always saw you as our little brother. I mean, you never really did all that girly crap - makeup, playing with dolls, stuff like that. You were always interested in playing with the mud. The amount of times that you would get in trouble with Bobby because you would bring mudpies into his house, or whenever you would track mud inside when it was raining. He got so pissed,” he chuckled, and (Y/N) joined him. 

“But then you got older,” he continued. “And it started to seem like you weren’t really my brother. But…something wasn’t right. I knew something wasn’t right, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Calling you my sister felt wrong. I started calling you my little brother again whenever I told people about you, and then it felt right. When you told us you were transgender, it all made sense to me. It clicked. You never really were my little sister. You were my little brother, just with a few extra parts. Now that you got your surgery, I can see just how happy you are. How comfortable you are, and that means more to me than anything else.” 

The conditioner was gone. (Y/N)’s freshly washed hair laid against the basin. Dean reached over to the cabinet and grabbed out a small hand towel. He ruffled the towel against (Y/N)’s damp hair, making sure to get all of the water off of the side of his face and his ears. When his face was dry, he helped him sit up. 

“And me seeing you like this, I have never felt more proud of you,” Dean concluded. 

(Y/N) glanced up at Dean, brows raised. His wet hair dripped onto his naked shoulder. “Really?” He asked in a quiet voice. 

Dean smiled softly. “Yeah. I’m proud that you told Sam and me how you felt. I’m proud that you got the courage to go through with the surgery, and,” Dean knelt in front of the chair. “I’m proud to call you my baby brother.” 

A lump had formed in (Y/N)’s throat. His eyes glimmered with tears that pooled in their corners. Without saying anything, (Y/N) reached forward and wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck, pulling him into a loose embrace. Dean placed his hands on (Y/N)’s back and smiled into the hug. 

“I owe you and Sam so much,” (Y/N) spoke softly. “You guys take such good care of me.” 

“You don’t owe us anything. That’s just what big brothers are supposed to do.” 

“Not even if I bake you a pie?” 

“Now, if you decide to bake a pie, I won’t turn it down,” Dean pulled away and held his hands up. 

(Y/N) sniffled and wiped the tears away. “I should make Sammy one of those fancy salads he likes.” 

“Oh, he’ll go crazy for that,” Dean mumbled. “Him and his damn rabbit food.” 

“You go crazy for pie, though.” 

“Yeah, but pie is good. Actually good.” 

(Y/N) rolled his eyes, causing Dean to chuckle. Dean stood up and brushed his jeans off, stretching his arms above his head. 

“What do you say we get Sammy and go watch a movie?” Dean asked. 

(Y/N) smiled. “I’d like that.” 

“Great! You go get Sammy and I’ll get the snacks.” 

Dean turned and jogged out of the room. (Y/N) stood and tilted his neck from side to side, noting the small strain in his muscles. (Y/N) grabbed the back of the chair he had been sitting in, but stopped as he saw himself in the reflection of the small mirror. His eyes scraped over his body, from his head down to his exposed hips. He shifted so that he could see his torso from the side.

It was almost as if he was in a dream. Like, at any moment, he would blink and wake up in his bed with his breasts still attached to his chest. For years, he had been wanting to get top surgery, but it never seemed like something he was able to achieve. Never in his wildest imagination did he see himself standing in front of a mirror and feeling proud of the body that he stood in. He no longer saw the body of a woman, the man he was trapped inside and desperately attempting to claw his way out. He saw a man, who he truly was, the real (Y/N) Winchester. 

And as he stared at his chest, a smile appearing on his lips, the words Dean spoke echoed in his head;

I’m proud to call you my baby brother.

Now, (Y/N) Winchester could confidently say that he was the luckiest man alive.