#tips from your trans big brother

[hanckocks-dagger]

Well fed

masterlist

John Hancock x trans masc!Reader

Description: After a scuffle on the road involving his knife, Hancock takes care of you.

Word count: 3.4K

Tags: smut!, oral (m recieving), knife play, praise kink, no pronouns used for reader but masculine nicknames (brother, good boy), no y/n, service top Hancock (or at least adjacent to it). He's whipped, bros

Warnings: Canon typical violence, mentions of blood

Words used for reader's genitals: core, cunt, entrance

Requested by: @kin-of-kin

Crossposted on my ao3

Notes: I went for a bit more of a service top Hancock in this one. I do think he’s down for whatever, living life the way he does, but I also think he’a s big softie who just wants to take care of u and shower you with all the love he has. Smut starts right after the cut!

Also just because we’re all ghoul girlies (gn) here, I do want to let y’all know this was partly inspired by a pretty good blowbjob I gave, which was going fantastically until I suddenly got the worst bloody nose of my life, right in the middle. Ruined the mood a bit, but a funny story in hindsight. 

"So perfect for me, hmm?" Hancock's words came out half strangled, one hand trailing over to tangle in the hair at the back of your neck, still matted with blood and sweat.

You breathed through your nose, sinking further down his cock. Slick with saliva, the back and forth bob of your head was easy, the sure glide of him in your mouth. You felt him hit the back of your throat, hollowed your cheeks in an attempt to take it down better, desperate to pull as many sighs and moans as you can from him.

Down on your knees, on a leaf covered forest floor, the edges of your armor digging into your skin. It was easy to ignore, over the hum of your blood, the electricity that seemed to flow through you, the shocks of pleasure you felt every time Hancock uttered some breathless words.

Your hands itched to get a good grip on him, but you settled for holding onto his bare thighs, pants and underwear pulled down to his knees, letting you grab onto scarred skin every time he pushed your down just a bit further, digging your nails in as you choked,

You went down just a bit too far, having to pull back to gasp and retch, panting as your oxygen deprived brain tried to take what it needed. Hancock's hand grasped your hair hard, pulling you until your chin rose, so you were staring up at him, dark eyes meeting your own. Your chest heaved, you could feel the slick texture of spit on your lips and cheeks as you nuzzled his cock, shining in the low light, covered in your saliva.

Your hand moved to grasp him, but Hancock swatted your hand away gently, instead taking the opportunity to grab you by the chin, "Such a good boy for me, aren't you?"

You nodded at him through heavy lidded eyes, desperate to regain your composure and get him back inside you, whether it be your mouth or further south. His hand moved to cup your cheek, a moment so sickeningly sweet you had to swallow a lump in your throat. You tucked your wet face into his palm, pressing a soft kiss there.

"You look so handsome down there, hmm?”

It seemed ridiculous to blush at such innocuous phrasing, but blush you did, face heating up to the tips of your ears. The eye contact made you shy, so you dropped your head back down to get him back in your mouth, his hands moving to grasp at your hair again.

You groaned against him when his fingers tugged, gentle pressure against your scalp shooting pleasure down your spine. His hands eased you forward, taking him gently further into your mouth, inch by inch.

You hollowed your cheeks, finding the right amount of pressure. It didn't take long to have him groaning against you again, whispering your name between swears and grunts, fingers occasionally slipping from your hair to caress your cheek.

"Shit- baby I'm gonna–"

You felt his hands back in your hair, tugging gently in an attempt to get you off, but you did the opposite, pressing down just that little bit deeper, fingernails pinching down into the meat of his thigh.

He came with a groan, shooting into your mouth. His cock alone had made you feel full, but as your mouth filled even more you found yourself gagging again. You pulled off with a slick pop, tilting your head to the side to spit into the grass, feeling it dribble over your lips as you did.

You took a moment, hands clutching at dead leaves and dirt, breathing through the slight wave of nausea that accompanied the metallic taste that settled in the back of your mouth, the uncomfortable electric tingling of your tongue.

Behind you, you could hear the shifting of clothes, the clinking of metal. Hancock's hands on your back, that ever present worry, never able to put your welfare away.

"You alright, brother?" He asked, voice soft, his hand sliding across your lower back, skin smooth against the fabric of the shirt you wore.

"I'm good," You breathed, wiping off your mouth with the back of your hand, "Just– You know how it is. Always forget just how bad it tastes."

He snorted, hand slipping momentarily down to your ass for a gentle squeeze, "Well, you did a fantastic job, as always."

The praise, lightly tossed out there, settled in your core, spreading heat out like a struck match. Suddenly, his touch was electrifying. "Could we–" You started, but were interrupted by the rustle of trees in the distance, the hoof beats of a radstag rushing past you. In a moment, the two of you went from loose limbed and giggly to standing and alert. You dove for your gun, reloading and cocking it, lining up your sights with the noises.

Hancock was beside you, one hand held up in front of your chest, like he was protecting you, his knife in his other hand, held in a tight grasp.

You went still, deadly silent, tracking the distant shape, tucked between curtains of trees. You struggled to make out what it was, whether human or a sluggish Yao Guai, maybe even just a startled Radstag.

According to your mapping, this was unclaimed territory, avoided even by the enclave, hours from the next checkpoint. You held your breath, chasing the shape with your scope as it traveled behind trees, stumbling unnaturally, unrecognizable movements.

"Can you tell what it is?" Hancock murmured, posed to strike but waiting for your signal.

"No," You whispered back, trying to tell if the movements looked like a feral ghoul, a straggler fallen out of his group, woken by the movements in the forests. "I think we should get a closer look. You ready?"

"Always," he replied, falling into step besides you. You set a slow, creeping pace, rifle still firm in your grip, hand itching on the trigger, prepared for a sudden attack.

You weaved through trees, distancing yourself from the little camp you'd made. Its movements were still erratic, but it didn't seem to have noticed you, bouncing from tree to tree. Sure enough, as you closed in, you recognized those familiar snarls, saw the flash of red, angry, exposed flesh. A lone ghoul, clad in a dark black cloak, stumbling around, looking for who knows what.

Finally, about ten paces away from it, it reared its head, snarling. You raised your rifle, finger on the trigger, but before you could even line up the gun Hancock was in action, knife striking the ghoul's heart, torso, then with a powerful thrust, the blade pierced its skull. Dead.

You backed yourself up against a tree, scanning the ground for any other threats.

"Poor guy," Hancock mused, examining the corpse as it bled out, dampening the ground. "Do you have any winter clothes?" He asked, tugging at the cloak the ghoul was wearing, flapping the spare fabric.

Sure enough, it looked like thick, well insulated fabric.

"Mmm, maybe," You said, raising your pip-boy to check your inventory. The pair of you were on a smaller run, only two nights on the road. You had yet to make it to where you were heading, you had a parcel to deliver, some buildings to clear on the way for the Minutemen.

"Let's store it somewhere. If we spot it on the way back, I'll take it."

You watched as Hancock examined his knife, scarred fingers following the blade, cleaning the blood off it as he went. The adrenaline in your blood slowly faded, replaced by the gentle thrumming of electricity in your veins.

He yanked the cloak off the dead ghoul in a smooth move, bundling it up in his arms as he fell back in step with you, heading back towards the camp you'd made.

The campfire crackled, sending bright sparks up into the darkened sky. It was overcast, only a few of the brightest stars peaking through, the waxing moon disappearing behind gray clouds. You dropped down onto your bedroll, going through the motions of unloading your rifle, tucking the bullets back into your bandolier.

Hancock settled next to you, his shoulder bumping into yours, setting his hat onto his knee. 

He pulled the knife back out, running his nimble fingers over the sharp edge, testing the blade for dullness. You watched him through half lidded eyes, mouth salivating despite yourself. Something about seeing him throw himself in front of you without thought, even knowing how well you could defend yourself. Putting your well being ahead of his own.

He flipped the knife in his hand, the blade glinting silver in the firelight. You could almost pinpoint the moment your blood flow changed course, sending a thrum to your core, the momentary distraction quickly forgotten. You leaned your head on your palm, eyes following the blades motion as Hancock fidgeted, nails picking at a dried speck of blood. You pictured the tip of it pressed to your skin, mapping out a scratched path. Catching on your chest, your neck, maybe even delving further downwards.

"Someone in there?" Hancock asked, cutting through your reverie, having clearly been trying to speak to you.

"Hmm?" You asked, struggling to move your gaze from the knife, your tongue darting out to wet your lips.

He gave a snort, a grin stretching over his face, "Never mind. What's got you so distracted?"

You puffed your cheeks out. You'd never hinted at an interest in bringing weapons into your sex life, seeing as it was plenty exciting as is, but something about the image of that knife in his hands...

"How would you feel about using that knife... on me?"

His eyes flickered downwards to where he was still fiddling with the knife, then back up at you, "Why? You thinking about going feral on me?"

You could, if he wanted you to, but, "Not exactly," You raised yourself, crawling over on your knees to climb into his lap. You nipped at that spot behind his ear, the one that always made him shudder. "Maybe you could..." You brought your hands under the hem of his shirt, fingers running over his warm stomach, "Cut off my clothes," You kissed at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, "or run the blade over my skin," you rutted against his hips, feeling the hardening bulge in his pants, "I'm sure you could find something to do with the handle."

He cleared his throat, pliant under your touch. His free hand came up to squeeze your ass, push your hips even closer together.

"You sure about this?" His voice was calm, not nervous, just a casual check in.

"Of course. I know how good you are with that blade. I know what those hands can do. Seems a shame I've never gotten a demonstration, is all." You trusted him implicitly, not only with your heart, but with your life. He could tie you up and leave you blindfolded right here in these woods and you'd trust him to keep you safe.

You bit down on his earlobe, just enough to elicit a hiss, before he turned his head and captured your mouth in a kiss. You reveled in it, the warmth of him against you, the taste of cigarettes and grape mentats.

He pulled away with a grin, said: "Well, that I can provide," the rumble of his words passing through your sternum. Then, with a quick movement, he had you on the ground, back to your bedroll, his arms bracketing your head. From the corner of your eye, you could see the glint of the blade, inches away from your skin.

Then the dull edge of it was pressed into your cheek, cold metal making you give a little shiver. Your eyes stayed on Hancock, watching his focused gaze as the knife traveled lower, pausing over the arteries in your neck, the sharp point of it digging into the underside of your jaw. When you swallowed you felt it dig just a bit deeper, not enough to break the skin but enough to feel the threat of it.

"So good for me, hmm?" Hancock's whisper was a ghost across your skin, so close you could almost reach up and kiss him. "Trusting me like this."

You were sure the wetness in your underwear had spread to your pants, could feel your heartbeat in your clit. Your fingers twitched, desperate to relieve the pressure, to rut against something while Hancock had his fun. He was on his knees, his hips just out of reach, but you thought... maybe if you shifted, you could trap one of his thighs between your legs.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I've been neglecting you," In a flash, the knife was gone from your throat, the hilt of it pressed right against where you needed it most.

You let out a little whine, hands coming up to grasp at Hancock's arms to try to give yourself some leverage, pressing your clothed cunt against the knife for some added pressure.

His smile was wicked, knowing exactly what he was doing to you, reducing you to a pliant mess in his hands, content to let him do as he pleased.

He sat up onto his knees, knife gone for a moment as he shrugged out of his coat, then made quick work of the buttons on his vest before that followed too.

The knife's hilt returned to where it had been pressing, leaving you to grind down against it, trying to find that perfect angle through your clothes. Hancock brought his free hand to your mouth, hooking two fingers into your bottom lip, "Open up for me, that's a good boy."

You did as you were asked, went about sucking them without needing instruction, tongue running along and between the digits. Once he was satisfied, Hancock pulled them out, a strand of saliva following.

The knife was laid flat to rest on your stomach as he undid the button on your jeans. It wobbled with every inhale, cool steel sending goosebumps up past your navel. Gentle hands pulled your pants down, pausing in a moment to shuck off your boots as well, the whole of it adding to the pile of his clothes.

He pulled your underwear to the side, pausing just a moment to stare, that truly reverential expression on his face that you'd never seen with any other partners.

"John," You whined, deciding he was getting a touch too distracted, rolling your hips up towards his face in an attempt to get him back on track. Sure enough, those wet fingers were quick to dip beneath your folds, teasingly dipping into that wet, tight, heat before retracting, moving up to rub at your clit.

You gasped at the contact, back arching right up off the ground, breath turning to a soft moan as he found his pace. He leant right over you, pushing back a strand of hair that had fallen into your eyes, before capturing your lips again. Some added pressure from his fingers had you groaning into his mouth, one hand reaching up to grab him by the back of the neck, pulling him closer as his tongue flitted into your mouth.

He licked into you, greedily swallowing any noises that escaped, his free hand slowly crawling under your shirt, sliding over your stomach and your chest, coming to a pause to pinch a nipple between his fingers.

"Always so wet for me," He breathed against your mouth, fingers vanishing off your clit again to dip inside you, "Hard to believe you're mine sometimes, sunshine."

"I am," You panted against him, "All yours."

You whined again as he crooked his fingers inside you, his other hand moving to play with your neglected nipple for just a moment before he removed his hand from under your shirt.

The knife, momentarily forgotten, had tilted off your stomach and fallen beside you in the dirt. Hancock picked it up, wiping it quickly off on the sleeve of his shirt before placing the tip of it right onto your sternum, held with gentle pressure.

It caught on the fabric of your shirt, your gentle rocking against his fingers, your heaving chest. The first tear made you gasp, the steel suddenly against bare skin. You watched Hancock's eyes follow the blade, could see the glint of it reflected in his black eyes. It traced down your chest, tearing through more fabric on the way down, until the entire thing came apart, exposing the entirety of your torso.

It traveled over your hip bone, catching on the seam of your panties. A quick slash, blade singing, and you're exposed to the world.

Hancock bent over you again to take a nipple into his mouth, teeth grazing ever so gently against the nub on it, tugged on it with just enough pressure to meld pleasure and pain, until you're pushing your chest out to follow his mouth.

He pulls off with a pop, running his tongue along your sternum, up your neck, your jaw, right up to meet your lips again.

His fingers stilled inside you and you bucked against them, desperate to keep him going.

He pulled away from your lips to whisper against them, "Let me take care of you, sunshine?" You nodded against him, as if there were any other answer, mewling when you felt his fingers pull out. You hear the familiar sound of his belt buckle, the shifting of fabrics, and then he was pushing against your entrance, head bowed low as you gave way, the first inch of him sliding in.

You moaned against the intrusion, bringing one leg up to hook around the back of his thigh, encouraging him to keep going. Slowly, he did, sinking in with his usual care, eyes taking in every micro-expression on your face, always looking for signs of discomfort.

You had to tap him on the shoulder to encourage him to move, slowly at first, but quickly picking up speed, encouraged by your moans. It wasn't long until you had both legs hooked around his waist, crying out as he found that perfect spot inside you, hands fisting the back of his shirt as he whispered words of praise.

"Taking me so well, baby, feelin' so perfect around my cock–" He gasped as you squeezed down around him, hiding his face in your shoulder.

"God, fuck, John–" You moaned as his fingers find their way back to your clit, rubbing in time to the snap of his hips, each thrust somehow feeling deeper, the slick drag of him heavenly as your orgasm approached fast, ramming into you with the force of a pre-war train car, leaving you clawing at his back, seconds away from ripping through his shirt as well.

Hancock is hot on your heels, hips stuttering, thrusts going sloppy. You barely have the sense of mind to release your legs, letting them fall to the side just in time for him to pull out and come all over your bare stomach with a deep groan.

He collapsed on top of you, heedless of the sticky come now smeared over your skin and his shirt. You brought him up for a kiss, rolling the two of you over so that you could pull the tatters of your shirt off and use it to mop off the mess on your skin.

After more lazy kisses, Hancock leant down and pulled his heavy coat over the two of you, too spent to bother with the rest of your clothes. Your chests are still heaving as you settle into the crook of his neck, buzzing pleasantly, warm with the fire on one side and Hancock pressed against you.

Through heavy breaths, Hancock managed to pause long enough to ask, "Hey, you do have a spare shirt, right?"

You snickered, hiding your face in the collar of his coat, "Yeah, I've got one in my bag."

"Hate to have seen what you'd've done to me tomorrow if you'd let me ruin your only one."

"Mm, nothing too bad," You poked your head out to press a kiss to his cheek, "Too soft on you for that."

Notes:

My first request!!! So much fun to do, thank u for requesting and feel free to shoot me any ideas you have.

Thanks for reading! Please leave me a comment, or request something, or just come chat with me!

[forcedtogrow]

Addressing Pre-T, Pre-transition Anons

I’m getting quite a few asks from pre-T guys about how much you can change your body pre-T, what exercises to do, how to fix body fat redistribution etc. and it has gotten to be a little too much so im making a blanket post regarding this topic. This post is MY VIEWS AND LIMITS. I am not trying to bully anyone, this is a kink blog for fun and I am not a teacher/doctor/counselor/therapist or parent. I am a fun big brother lmao.

1. There’s only so much you can change your body pre-T, and it’s totally dependent on your genetics and dedication to lifting/gaining muscle. Some guys are lucky and can easily pass without T by just working out, I wasn’t one of them but I’ve seen a handful of guys that did that before T. Even then, some of those guys needed T to get rid of an hourglass/pear shape.

2. You can’t spot lose body fat in hips/thighs/ass. You’d need to lose body fat everywhere, but pre-T your body is most likely to hold onto lower body fat because biology wants those fat reserves to make babies. It’s gross and dysphoria inducing but it’s true.

3. It’s worth it to work out pre-T, especially lifting, to create a solid base to work from. If you already have that you’ll grow so fast on T it’ll feel like magic. I won’t lie that it’s frustrating and awful, because I’ve been there and it feels like spinning the pedals on a bike without moving, but it does pay off.

4. Stay balanced with your diet and don’t force yourself into a crazy calorie deficit. It might not be the time to bulk if you feel like your body is reserving most energy as fat (could be your genetics or activity level), but maintaining a baseline that’s Not underweight is a good start.

5. I’m not in a place to tell you to bulk or cut, especially if I don’t know your height/weight/age/activity level. I am not a doctor or dietician and can only say what works for me and people I know.

6. Don’t just focus on one part of the body, do a full push/pull/legs routine at the very least. Like this: https://www.aston.ac.uk/sport/news/tips/fitness-exercise/push-pull-legs or this for a 6 day split: https://www.muscleandstrength.com/workouts/6-day-powerbuilding-split-meal-plan

You need to build full body strength, and more leg muscle can actually masculinize your body and make your hips more boxy.

7. If you can’t transition medically/socially for whatever reason your main focus should be getting out of that situation. This is going to sound harsh but I know many trans people who risked a lot, some trans femme friends that literally risked their lives, and you have to decide what’s important to you. I’m being real because you will only regret waiting—there is no replacement for transition, there is no joy like transition, there is no pain great enough to negate the many many benefits of transition.

I don’t want to get messages like “what if it’s illegal where I live!” That’s not what I’m talking about. It’s sucks, but you either transition or you don’t, and if you don’t that’s up to you, but I cannot assist with that decision. I gave up a lot to transition and waited several years to start hrt for reasons too personal to disclose. I ruined relationships with family among other things, so please do NOT ask me for advice on this because I will not be coddling/sweet. Being a man is hard and messy and a sacrifice.

8. I will tell you what I eat and give general advice of bulking/eating but I will not make a meal plan for you. Every body has different needs that only you and a dietitian can work through, I’m not a licensed professional and don’t want anyone to take what I eat as the only way to eat.

9. If you cannot transition because you are a minor stay off my blog. Sorry!!

[the-t-boy-king]

Tips from your trans big brother: Packing

Alright homies, it's time for packer talk. A quick trigger warning. Most packers look like penises. If you don't want to hear about that, keep on moving. Please take care of yourself and I hope you will have a nice day/night! Packer talk under the cut.

So what is packing? Packing is when a trans man, (such as myself) or a trans masculine person uses something like padding or a packer to make a bulge in their pants. Some people use it as a way to fight bottom dysphoria, others use it to help pass, and there are many reasons why someone might want to pack.

There are 3 types of packers based on what they are used for. I'll run through them right now and I'll give recommendations and leave links for them. I'll then go over packing gear. Buckle up homies, it's going to be a long post.

Soft Packers

To start with we have soft packers. It's a packer that is made to look like you have a bulge in your pants. It can't be used for anything else. Soft packers are normally made with two types of material: elastomer/thermal gel and silicone.

Elastomer/thermal gel. This type of material is very soft and squishy. It's not very durable. It can tear easily and you can't really sanitize it the normal way ie with boiling water because it will melt.

People who have sensitive skin can break out due to the material so it's not recommended to wear it against the body without a barrier for long periods of time. You can use packing underwear or a packing pouch to keep a barrier between the packer and your skin. You also have to powder it so it's not sticky.

Silicone is more durable, firmer and less stretchy, and will last you a lifetime if you handle it with care. These are a lot easier to clean and sanitize since for the most part you can run them through the dishwasher or boil it in water (unless the company you get it from tells you otherwise that is).

For soft packers I recommend there are two. The 1st one is a Mr.Limpy . It's made of the elastomer material, but it is a great way to test to see if packing is something you want to do. The second one I recommend is the Classic Silicone packer from AXOLOM. I just got it a few days ago and I already love it. It bends down itself so it makes packing so much easier.

STPs packers

Stand to pee, or STPs are just as the name implies. It's a packer that helps people to stand to pee. These can help trans guys who have dysphoria when it comes to sitting to pee. It can also help them feel safer in the men's bathroom. STPs are hollow, a bowl at the end, and a shaft to pee with. Often you can use a STP both for packing and peeing but some are better than others. Packing with these can be a bit harder since they are firmer. It's because they can keep their shape when peeing.

These are made of silicone, and since you are using them to pee with, you need to sanitize them so you don't give yourself a UTI. When using a STP for the 1st time, I recommend starting in the shower 1st naked then slowly moving up to using a toilets/ urinals because trust me, you'll pee on yourself.

STPs are harder to recommend since everyone is built differently when it comes to where your urethra is and how fast you pee. Hell, I haven't fully mastered my own STPs. However, I have a STP Freely from Transguy Supply and I've been getting better at it.

Pack and Play Packers

Pack and play packers are packers that can be used for sex. You can often find 3 in 1 which is packer, STP and play. It mostly comes down to if your packer comes with a rod that can be put inside of your packer to make it stiff enough to penetrate. I haven't used one yet so I can't recommend one but you can use STP Freely as a pack and play as long as you buy the rod that goes in it.

Packing Gear

Packing gear is a thing that are made to make packing easier. There are 3 many types: packing underwear, packing harness and packing pouch. These are thing that will hold your packer in place and prevent it from falling out of your pants.

With packing underwear there's two types. Normal packing underwear that comes with a built in pouch that will hold the packer in your underwear. STP underwear is made with STPs in mind. They come with a O ring that'll hold the shaft in place when peeing and come with a button fly you can open so you can pee.

I personally use the Sport Packing Pouch. It's a pouch you put your packer in and pin to your underwear to keep in place. As for STP underwear I use the Cake Bandit underwear. Keep in mind that packing underwear is expensive. However you can make your own by sewing a pouch into underwear you already have.

So that's about it when it comes to packing. Packers come in all shapes and sizes, so it's up to you how big you want your dummy peen to be. Keep in mind that most cis guys' penises are about 3-4 inch when soft so you don't have to use a 8 inch packer. Bigger is not always better. Packing is a deeply personal thing so do whatever feel right to you. Good luck on your packing journey!

With love, Miles, your trans older brother.

[silent-raven13]

The Punks meet Sunflowers! 2

(Part 1)

Three Miles stood in front of the punks, Miles 1016 chuckles: Come on, boys. Your mouths are hanging a bit too low.

Gwen looks at the three Miles variant: Oh wow, you're a girl. -seeing one Miles being a woman.

Miles variant giggles: Yup, well... I'm actually trans. trangirlie! I'm still working on a name for myself, so I still go by Miles. -She smiles at the group- I'm Miles Morales from Earth 1015! -She had on a Magenta and black Spider-woman suit, wearing long braids with pink tips at the end, and have big doe like honey eyes.-

The other variant said: I'm Miles from Earth 43! I'm a transman! -The other Miles stood being the same height as Miles 42, with green eyes and thick box braids hair. His Spider-man suit is more edgy with black and blue with cargo pants, thick shoes, and black sweater over his spider-man suit.-

Gwen gawks: Wow! You guys look freakin' cool! -She saw Miles 43 wearing some space lookin' shoes-

Miles 42: I was checking those shoes out too! They look mad dope!

Miles 43 smirks: These are my anti-gravity kicks! Makes me float in the air -He jumps showing off his kicks- I made them from a special metal called Vibranium.

The group: Whoa, that's so cool!

Miles 1016 looks over at the third Miles: Hey, man. You been quiet. That's pretty weird of you.

Hobie 138b notice the third Miles, who is dressed in all black, with piercings and had a tattoo of sunflowers showing on his neck: Darling, is that a Punk Miles? -The other Punks looks over noticing the other Miles-

Miles variant scowls: Excuse you, man. I don't like labels! I am, ME!

Miles 1016: Technically.... he hates labels. So you don-

Punk Miles: I'm Miles Morales from Earth 1019, I fucking hate the system, the government fucking fascist assholes. I believe in Black Lives Matter, Gay Rights, Fuck the pigs and Free Congo, Free Palestine, Free Yemen, Free all the oppressed countries from greedy hungry pencil dicks white men!

Hobie 138b being awestruck until his boyfriend nudge him in the rib getting jealous: Hobie!

Hobie 138b: Huh, what? No, it's just... -he looks at his Sunflower- Sunflower, please get a tongue piercing.

Miles 1016: Pfft!

Hobie 138e already looming over at Punk Miles: You know, I bashed a DICK-tator's head once... -his voice deep-

Miles 1019 smirks being interested in him: You did? Mmm, I actually blow up the NYPD!

The Punks seem to spread to their Miles, being already interested in them. Hobie 138c flock to Miles 43 and Hobie 138d went with Miles 1015. Gwen saw how bashful the Punks acted around their Miles, which is cute and funny. Seeing cool tough punkers being all shy, casually trying to flirt while their Miles are so sweet, and naive.

Hobie 138d to Miles 1015: So in your world... what do you do for fun?

Miles 1015 smiles brightly at him: I take care of my baby brother! I go skate with my best friend... um... hmmm, I really really love Pickles! I know a bit weird but it's been my favorite snack to eat while reading manga! -She saw the way he nodded, then he got close to him trying to meet his eye- What about you?

Hobie 138d blushes: Me! Oh, you know, starting Mayhem, breaking shit, fighting off CEOS and their unethical practices!

Miles 1015: Ohh sounds fun!

Miles 42 rolled his eyes: Oh brother...

Gwen laughs: This is so fun to watch.

Miles 43 talking with Hobie 138c: Hahaha, yeah. I beat up a few bad cops recently. They really hate me being around.

Hobie 138c: Really? Need help from an expert. I'm always free. I'll take you out in my world. I know a great place that sells the best fish n' chips!

Miles 43 chuckles: I would like that!

Hobie 138b look at his Miles: Darling, did you just hook them up.

Miles 1016 smiles at him: Maybe... I thought The Punks would like their own Sunflower. Besides, I see the way you always held back, my poor baby. -He got his boyfriends face to make him lean over so he can kiss him on the cheek!-

Miles 42 grunts: Gross.

Gwen: Awe, that's cute. You gotta admit, Miles.

Miles 42: Say where's Mariana?

The Hobies left their head up: Who?

A Spider-woman in pastel blue and pink: Hey guys, sorry I'm late and- Whoa so many Spider-punk! -She took off her mask revealing to be woman but with Miles' features. Her long hair tied into two thick long braids-

Miles 1016: This is Mariana! She's the female version of me or I'm the male version of her...

Mariana giggles: Right! Variants is so confusing, because who's is who in the multiverses! -She saw how Spider Punks were close to their Miles- Looks like I missed the match making. Shame, I thought I was gonna get a Spider Punk -she jokes-

Miles 42: I know a Ganke that's single!

Miles 1016: You really want a variant of us dating a Ganke huh?

Miles 1015: Well there was a few Miles that were... you know multi-verses. It never ends!

Mariana nodded: Oh for sure! -then turns to Miles 42- I'm fine just teasing. I'm not into dating.

Miles 43: There's another cute punker walking around.

Hobie 138b: As long as he stay away from my Sunflower. -he pulls Miles close to him-

Miles 1016: Bae, chill. I'm not going anywhere.

Mariana giggles: So this is your famous bf! He loves you too much! -She turns to Gwen- I've seen the male variant of you. Are you a flirt like him?

Gwen: Oh nonono. I'm not.

Miles 42: Wait, Mariana? -Looking at Miles 1015- Why not names yourself that?

Miles 1015: Me as Mariana? Hmmm... I was thinking of Mila.

Miles 43: Mila? -He did not like that name-

Miles 1019: Ew, sounds too fanfic to me. It's like okay we get it, your boy name is Miles and girl went to Mila!

Miles 1015: When you put it like that... it is fucking weird. huh?

Hobie 138d hugs protectively at his Miles: Shh, darling. Don't listen to them! They are just jealous at your beautiful name!

Miles 1015 giggles: Thanks, Hobie! Maybe Marina? Still thinking about it.

Mariana: Marina is a cute name.

Miles 1016: What about Star? You mention you wanted something with piz-zazzs!

Miles 43: My birth name was Mariana and changed it to Miles, because my dad would've name me, Miles.

Miles 1015: I want a name that's me! Star would be cute but sounds a bit too common too. -She sighs- I'll wait and see.

Hobie 138e: Patience is a skill. Name whatever your comfortable with.

Mariana nodded: Yeah! It will come.

Gwen asked Miles 1016: So are they all like you? Like doing their own thing?

Miles 1016: Umm, not really. 43 and 1019 lost their dad from being shot by a dirty cop. Mariana's and Miles 1015's parents are alive but they lost their friend. I think Mari's was Ganke and 1015 was her Peter Parker... I think.

Gwen: Oh wow.

Miles 42: Mariana' and Miles 1015 have younger sibling too.

Miles 1016: Yeah, it's crazy how multi-verses work. -They watch the Miles and Hobies interacting. Mariana happily taking with them being so bright and bubbly. Then Miles 1016 felt a tap on his shoulder, he looks over to find Punk Miguel!- Oh hey, Miguel!

Punk Miguel, from Earth 970 and younger version of Miguel 2099. He's much nicer and mostly speak Spanish, since he grew and live in Mexico. In his world, Mexico won the American-Spanish War, so states like California didn't exist, but remain part of Mexico. USA Is a small country that leader was taken over by Mexico: Compa, qué le parece esa morra? -His Auburn red eyes on Mariana- Hmm?

Hobie 138b looks at the lad: Oi, I'm watching you.

Miles 1016 said: That's Mariana. Go talk to her.

Miguel 970 shyly didn't want to speak to her by himself: Amigo, please... help me? -having a thick Mexican accent-

Miles 1016 chuckles: Alright. -He turns to Mariana- Hey, Mari. I want you to meet someone.

Mariana head to them after excusing herself with the her variants and the Punks: What's up? -then noticed a tall big guy in front of her- Oh wow, man! You are huge! I feel so small! -she's six foot, too.-

Miguel 970 blushes being shy. Miles chuckles: He wants to meet you but he's shy.

Mariana: Oh I don't bite, unless you want me too! -she jokes and saw Miguel 970 with sharp fangs- Ohh, but I bet you bite! -She got a good look at him, dark hair, piercings and red eyes with fangs! He's like a sexy vampire!-

Miguel 970: I... I don't speak.... English too good...

Mariana: Oh, puedo hablar español! Yo soy Mariana! -she stuck her hand out.

Miguel 970's eyes lit up: Hola, Mariana! Soy Miguel. Es un placer conocerte.

Mariana giggles: So proper.

Miles 1016 laughs too: Yeah, give a Punk a Miles and they suddenly become a gentlemen. -He saw all the other Punks being super nice and well-mannered with his other variants.-

Miles 42 was eyeing Miguel 970: He's low-key fine. Why not him?

Hobie 138b: Oi, back off, mate. Sunflower is mine. I'll never let him go.

Miles 42: Ugh, fine. Whatever, man.

Gwen: I love match making. Too bad, Pav isn't here. He would've fangirl and be doing a whole love show.

Miles 1016: He really did miss out, huh? -His eyes one Miguel 970 happily talking with Mariana-

Hobie 138b: Ain't it a bit weird for a Miguel to date a version of you?

Miles: Not really. She's her own person... just because their a variant of me, doesn't mean they are me, you know?

Hobie: And that's why I love you, Sunflower. -He picks up his partner to kiss him-

Miles: I love you, too, baby!

[the-darkness-does-not-bargain]

Can you tell us more headcanons/thoughts from your transmasc!Ava AU? Without being too spoilery of course, if you want ;). It can be about Bea too.

Sure, you know I love to talk 😁

Some of this is technically spoiler-y, but I'm the author, so I decide which spoilers matter and which don't.

Since this is a No Powers au, there is no fantastical inciting incident that kicks things off. Beatrice is just a university student and Ava works in a bar. They meet when Bea and the girls go out drinking after finishing their winter exams.

Ava still grew up in the orphanage, but as a teenager he was accepted into a clinical program run by Jillian, receiving experimental surgery and therapies to restore his mobility. He never met Jillian in person, but he was inspired by her genius and contributions to science, and he hopes to meet her at some point to thank her for helping him. With his mobility restored, he was able to fight back against Frances, and actually succeeded in getting the authorities to investigate the orphanage. It still exists and is still run by the Church, but Frances and the worst of the nuns were all ousted and replaced, and there is significant public and legal scrutiny keeping them in line.

Diego is still in the orphanage, but in much better hands with Frances gone. Ava visits him often and regularly signs him out on the weekends. He's a very good big brother, and even keeps all of his tips in a special "Diego fund" that both pays for fun things and acts as a long-term safety net should Diego age out of the system without being adopted.

Ava didn't know he was trans when he first left the orphanage, and it was only after meeting JC and Chanel that he was given the space and support to realize he wasn't a girl. He dated JC for a bit before coming out, but they soon realized that they worked better as guy friends rather than partners. Chanel is his best friend by far, always only a text away for advice, fashion tips, and bullshitting. She helped Ava find get a job at the bar and let him crash on her couch until he could afford his own place.

Ava received basic schooling in the orphanage, but doesn't have the money to pursue higher education. He compensates by reading as much as he can, chasing whatever topics interest him. He has a passion and talent for languages, and becomes fluent in several. His tiny apartment is filled with grammar texts, vocabulary sheets, and books from all over the world, and he is a religious user of Duolingo. He's also interested in medicine and technology, and is always on the lookout for articles about Arq-Tech.

As for Beatrice, I haven't decided what she studies yet, but she plans to pursue a doctoral degree after graduation. Her backstory is pretty much the same (shit parents, boarding school, etc.) until she entered university and connected with the other girls. Being free from her parents and meeting her friends gave her the space to accept her sexuality and love herself, so by the time of her graduation she is much more open and willing to pursue her desires. Her goal is to get her advanced degree, start working, and then distance herself from her family. She might have siblings in this au, I haven't decided yet.

That's all I will reveal for now. Hope you like it! 😘

[tundrabreeze-and-friends]

These are all the characters you can interact with on this blog!

Tundrabreeze: A large, fluffy, solid white albino tom who is a whirlwind of energy with an unusual love for rocks! Loves making friends and is overall a very friendly face! Be careful when asking about his rock collection, once he starts talking it’ll be hard to get him to stop!

Shadowedoak: A quiet, distant, large and fluffy brown tabby demi-tom with lighter brown stripes and dark green eyes who, despite his struggle with expressing emotion, is a gentle giant with a love for kitsitting. It is very quiet, and they don’t usually talk much, preferring to keep to themselves.

Gracklepaw: A small, lithe bombay she-cat who is a bit of an overthinker! She’s a wallflower, often blending into the background so well that she simply goes unnoticed a lot… sweet and lovable, and rather mature for her age, able to view things from a unique perspective.

Littlebat: A small, dark gray tabby demi-tom with black stripes and a lighter gray chest and underbelly, and green eyes, who is shy and quiet. Preferring to spend time alone, he’s known to wander. They often venture beyond the territories on expeditions to explore the world beyond.

Noblesnow: A mostly black cat with silvery white back paws, chin, neck, underbelly and tailtip. Small snowy white flecks dot his fur, giving her pelt the appearance of a cloudy night sky. They have green eyes. A noble and mature cat of unlabeled gender. She is a hard worker who seeks to find her purpose in life. He believes everything has a purpose, and has a strong, unshakable belief in his ancestors. Seeker of truth who is often narrow minded, being a strict follower of the code. She holds a kind of wisdom that not even some elders have.

Coppertooth: A brown tabby demi-girl with darker brown paws, ear tips, tail tip, chest and underbelly, and green eyes. Not the nicest cat by any means, often being snappy and blunt. She’s a big fan of her beauty sleep, and those who dare to disturb them from their sleep usually end up regretting it shortly after. A large scar is on their left shoulder, from an injury inflicted by their brother which didn’t heal properly, permanent impairing her mobility in that leg. Retired early to the elder’s den by choice. Underneath that spiky exterior is a fiercely loyal cat who, once befriended, will stand by your side till the very end.

Goatpaw: A short but bulky white trans FTM tom with large patches of brown scattered across their body, with darker brown swirls inside these patches. He has sky blue eyes and a short, stubby tail. A battle hungry apprentice who is eager to prove himself to his clan, determined to prove that he would never leave the clan in favor of a soft kittypet life the way his parents did. A loyal friend who will stick up for others, but will rarely ever do the same for himself. A confident tom who doesn’t really like being approached, preferring to initiate conversations himself. He appears distant and unfriendly upon first meet, but once you break through his cold exterior, you’ll find a good friend. Good luck breaking through his other set of walls though, the one that hides the truth that his confident personality is a facade, nobody’s been able to break through that wall just yet…

Darkhound: A large, bulky brown tom with a large scar on his back from an encounter with a hawk, and a small scar on his muzzle from a training accident. He has jet black paws and a black tail tip, and a white chest and underbelly. He has blue eyes. A confident tom who dreams of being the best of the best, determined to someday go down in history. A fun loving, adventurous spirit who is kind and friendly, with a tendency to talk a cat’s ear off.

More characters may be added in the future! If you want to do art for any of the characters please let me know beforehand because I have visual references for all of them!!!

Feel free to ask questions and interact with any of them!

[istherewifiinhell]

Dumb as hell they didnt air this show weekly ppl could have been fighting for their LIVES in the forums to prove this was hinting at nightshade's transformerdom specific tran-ness for a whole MONTH. You would take away that sweet sweet internet argument winner vindication? from TF FANS??

[VD: Transformers Earthspark clip of Thrash and Nightshade Malto speaking outside the Malto family barn. Thrash has silver/white plating, a blue face, copper detailing, like the goggles on his helm, and wheel rims by his knees. Nightshade is maybe 1.5 times his height, in their white/grey/blue protoform.

[Hashtag and Twitch in alt mode, purple van, red drone, respective, passing by the screen from previous scene]

Nightshade placing down some children's objects, peting the head of a plushie. Smiles.

Thrash steps around the corner of the barn: Okay, no pressure! I know you keep changing the subject cause you... don't wanna talk about alt-modes. But! There's still plenty your big bro can show you! Like, Fluffy Ears! [He gestures to present Fluffy Ears, a baby cow, who trots out and moos]

Nightshade, palming their cheeks, gasping: There is no more perfect name in the human language! [They kneel to play with Fluffy Ears' ears]

Thrash: Yeah! She is pretty cute!

Nightshade: Is she... also apart of our family?

Thrash: I mean... Basically?

Nightshade grasps both of Thrash's hands in theirs, and shakes them largely and emphatically enough he has to go on tip toes: I'm so glad you told me, this changes everything! Thank you Thrash. [They drop his hands to pick up Fluffy Ears, who moos, twice]

Thrash, baffled: Sure! Iffff you like cows, just wait till I teach you more earth stuff... Like... [He dashes out of frame, grabs Nightshade's collection of play things] How to juggle!

Nightshade turning from where they'd been walking away. Amused emphasis: Uh huh, and what can my big brother teach me about load bearing timbers? [Fluffy Ears moos]

Thrash: What? [Pausing juggling in his confusing, the items all fall on his head]

END

[jhara-ivez]

Okay, so German government under Olaf Scholz has said "YES, we will make life easier for trans-, inter- and nonbinary people :D :D :D :D ............................................... in November 2024." What is the meaning of this and why am I so ENRAGED: Today was a big day. I was nervous, my brother way nervous, probably everyone who is one of the aforementioned genders as well as their allies were nervous. The old law concerning name- and genderchange is incredibly anti-human. You have to pay a lot of money out of your own purse, have to face court and (in some cases) have to face offensive questioning. The new law says you go to the registry office, declare your gender (male, female or the unspecific "divers") and your surname-wish and within 3 months it is just done. For children from 14-18 years of age a legal guardian has to give their consent. Also you can change gender again after one year in case you change mind on the matter. Nothing in the law has anything to do with transitioning. It's all... well, basically just paperwork for some dude behind a monitor to do. Nothing lifechanging in a medical sense. But still incredibly helpful. Now to the question why I am so angry. When marriage for all was introduced in 2017 the period between "yes, let's do that" and "ok, now you people of Germany can actually start marrying each other :D " - because obviously there had to be some changes to be made for the dude behind the monitor to actually recognize that this is indeed legal and perfectly fine - took.... about 4 months. And people started marrying after 4 months. In this case however.... let's check again: The month is August 2023, the law is hopefully active in November 2024...... It's OVER A YEAR. OVER A YEAR in which this law can still be ripped apart in the German Parliament by several parties, including the very right AfD and the Union (which consists of the christian parties, and fyi one of them met up with deSantis and "agreed to his 'analysis' what could that mean? an idiot would ask).

Meanwhile everything in Germany is slowly but surely tipping to the right because EVERYONE in the leftish parties is overwhelmed and confused and very often downright stupid when it comes to dealing with the general questions of Germany's future. I am so tired. And angry.

[localtransdude]

Hi! I came across your blog because of an old post you made about transmasc outfits. I am very short (almost 5'2) and I'm also skinny, but my thighs are quite big (genetics, I think). Men's clothes are too big for me, but I feel awkward wearing boy's clothes, even though I can get away with it because I'm still a teen. Shorts are a nightmare because there are too loose on my waist and too tight on my thighs. Do you have any tips? (sorry to bother, as well)

Hey brother, so I’m also right around your height, and I can’t recommend wrangler enough. For pants, they have a lot of room in the hip and thigh area while still fitting the whole leg, but you’re best bet is going to be to get the tailored for the length (easy tutorials online, my mom worked in a fabric store so she usually helps me). Given our height, pants are hard to find for that reason. Shorts on the other hand can be more finicky as you said. I’ve found a lot of luck in Walmart shorts (George brand), they tend to run a little wider in the leg but don’t balloon like others.

Less fashionable, but honest life savers early in my transition were cargo shorts. They were always roomier in the thigh. My problem area has always been more my hips than my thighs, but these did wonders and I’d assume for you, they might hide your thigh bulk with the pockets, giving the illusion that that’s what’s making your thighs bulkier.

There’s no shame in wearing boys clothes, esp at your height. My dad wears child size beanies. I have pajama pants from the boys section and one of my favorite long sleeves is an XL in boys. I stayed wearing stuff in the boys section until I was well into 16. By then my body kinda bulked out.

With that figure and height and just being trans, we don’t have lots and lots of outfit options or clothes options, but when we find them, they’re gold. You just have to keep looking, and keep what you find so you can grow what you have. A little mundane but hey, it means we won’t fall into fast fashion right? Lmao, best of luck king, if you need anything else dw just send away

[treestargarden]

Choosing You

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Warnings: incest, dabixshouto, touya todoroki x shouto todoroki, cis!touya, trans!shouto, top!touya, bottom!shouto, both are consenting adults, no kink, it's actually incredibly soft, train hoppers au, mafia au, don't like don't read

Summary: Shouto feels he doesn't really belong with his new friends. After seeing Touya earlier in the day, he decides to visit his brother for comfort in the middle of the night. Takes place after the dabihawks smut

A/N: If you have issue with the ship, don't read it, argue with your momma. Now for those of us who enjoy art, please continue reading! I would love to hear your thoughts on these two 🫠 They melt my brain. Unlike my first piece, this is not accompanied by a playlist, just some good ol' dope and a soft spot for these tragic characters. DO NOT REPOST

Words: 1.1K | 18+ ONLY (MDNI)

That evening, when the rest of the group had fallen asleep upon one another, Shouto snuck out of the shared room. He glided over sprawling limbs and lolling heads. A sliver of light from the hallway shone across the faces of his friends, but none stirred. He looked at the puddle of people with longing. Knew he would never truly belong with them.

Not really.

There were few other souls that roamed the nighttime hours of the compound with him. Regardless, he remained undetected as he silently slipped through hallways. Years of tip-toeing at home conditioned his soft gait.

Shouto didn’t really pay attention to where his feet guided him.

Some time after 1:30am, his feet stopped at a locked doorway. The hallway was familiar. He had been there before. He glanced at the top of the door, which told him he arrived at the server room.

A white keycard flashed in the fluorescent lighting as he swiped it through the card reader and entered Touya’s password, “0428.”

He opened the door to a warm, humid room that had dozens of mechanical fans whirring. Their blinking lights lit up the otherwise dark room. It was clear Touya had not expected visitors. There were leftover carry out boxes spread across his desk and the trash overflowed with discarded napkins and empty containers.

“What are you doing here, Sho?” His brother’s eyes remain focused on the triple display monitors in front of him. He studied several lines of greentext while another monitor played CCTV footage fed from various visuals across the compound.

Shouto’s footfalls remained silent as he crossed the distance between him and his older brother. A feather-light palm rested on Touya’s shoulder. Gracefully, thin fingers warmed Touya’s unclothed inked shoulder. “You told me to come find you later.”

Touya scoffed in response.

The grip on Touya’s shoulder tightened with encouragement, “C’mon, big brother. It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, we stopped years ago.”

“Only because father was keeping a close eye on us.”

Touya finally peeled his gaze from the monitor to focus on Shouto. The silky strands laid perfectly upon his brother’s head, split exactly down the middle and the length tumbled down to his mid-back, even though it was tied in a loose braid. His stoic face owned a regalness that Touya was mostly familiar with. The planes of his face were unblemished save for the scar over his left eye. Shouto’s frame was petite and thin. Most things about Shouto were delicate. Easily broken if not handled properly. Touya always held Shouto with gentle ease. It had been a long time since he could look at Shouto the way he wanted.

The chair swiveled to face Shouto.

Encouraged by Touya’s interest, Shouto continues, “He’s not watching us now.”

Touya’s response was silent. He spread his legs out in front of him. His posture was casual and open. Arms were lounging upon the arms rests of the chair.

Shouto climbs into the chair with Touya, straddled his lap with his legs folded at Touya’s thighs. Recoil was far from his mind when Shouto first approached Touya to do this with him years ago. He would do anything that Shouto would ask of him.

There’s a patience shared between them. Out of practice, they experimented with the way their shapes were meant to fit alongside one another. Their kissing was languid. Their fingers were cartographers that recorded the mountains and valleys of each other’s pliant contours, because they did not know if they would have another chance to revisit. Not like this.

Slow minutes crawled by before Touya carried Shouto to the couch situated in the back of the server room. He laid on his side so he could wrap his body around Shouto, who laid on his back.

Where Touya showed Hawks raw need, he was uncharacteristically gentle with Shouto. His fingers roamed across silky skin and created a trail of goosebumps across reactive nerves. Attentive fingers explored soft folds and stroked a T-engorged clit. Shivers rippled across Shouto’s skin as he responded positively to Touya’s caressing.

Lithe fingers opened Shouto slowly while mismatched lips tugged softly at his hardened nipples. Turquoise eyes memorized the perfect shapes of Shouto’s exquisite sounds on his lips.

Even the way Shouto’s toes curled and the way his back arched into Touya was dignified. On anyone else, they would look pathetic.

Shouto’s fingers bunched the fabric on Touya’s chest and his breath was shallow and haggard. Eyelashes glistened with tears that threatened to fall, “Please, Touya,”

And Touya’s eyes softened with admiration for his younger brother, his eyebrows knitted in concern as his fingers continued milking Shouto’s desire between his legs, “What is it, Sho?”

A few more pumps of his fingers and Shouto babbled incomprehensibly again.

“Use your words, I know you can do it,” Touya cooed as he nuzzled into the junction between Shouto’s neck and shoulder.

Shouto’s face was flushed but whether it was because of Touya’s ministrations or the embarrassment at his request is unknown.

Possibly both.

“T-touya …” a pause as he swallowed the saliva that collected in his open mouth, “cum with me.”

Touya gazed upon Shouto. He examined Shouto’s expression, searched for the barest hint of regret that could possibly be seen. Touya and Shouto had never been with each other like that before.

A dainty palm rested against his cheek, all seriousness was in Shouto’s tone, “Please,” he nodded again. More confident in his request this time.

It was a slow process, Touya entering Shouto. He wanted to memorize every curve and hug of Shouto that he possibly could.

It took all of Touya’s patience before he was seated fully between Shouto’s legs. The heels of Shouto’s feet pressed lightly into Touya’s tailbone. He didn’t urge Touya to continue though. They always waited for each other.

Touya’s face hid in Shouto’s neck as he mumbled gentle praises for his little brother.

How beautiful he was. And how kind. How thoughtful. Worship tumbled from Touya’s lips. Words that neither of them grew up hearing.

Shouto clung to Touya with desperation.

Touya gently kissed Shouto anywhere his mouth could reach. They could have spent hours like that, but who knows? Neither of them counted.

Slender fingers traced the outlines of Touya’s burn scars and pouty lips poured honeyed moans into Touya’s ears.

Touya’s deft fingers eventually found their way back to their rightful place on Shouto–they coaxed more mewls out of the perfect porcelain doll he made love to.

As he brought Shouto to a climax, Touya kissed the edges of Shouto’s facial scar. The reverence was mostly unfamiliar to Shouto.

No matter what, Touya was Shouto’s most devout follower.

They were two boys that couldn’t have anything of their own, so they chose to have each other.

[the-t-boy-king]

STP Tips from your trans big brother

Hey ya'll. I thought I should share some STP tips I have learned over the last couple of months I learned while trying to use my own STP.

Quick trigger warning: I will be showing actual pictures of the STPs I use and they are prosthetic penises so they will look like a penis. If you're uncomfortable with that, please keep scrolling.

So I use a STP Freely and the XL version of it from Tansguy supply Is pictured here:

This one is the uncut version. The shaft is about 4 inches long from the top, 3 inches from the bottom, inside the cup is 3.5 inches, and outside is 4 inches.

This is the Freely XL cut version. The shaft is 5 inches from the top,4.5 inches from the bottom, inside the cup is 3.5 inches, and the outer cup is 4 inches.

Tips for beginners

I'm going to be upfront and say that I'm still learning myself. I have peed with a few times successfully at home. I have not taken it in public yet nor have I used the STP boxers I got yet. . However, I have learned a lot from my trial and error and I want to pass those onto y'all.

To start with, try to find your urethra. I know it can be hard for some due to dysphoria but if you can, try to find it. Knowing where it is can be a big help. When you do find it, try to place the STP in a position where you will being peeing into the shaft rather then the funnel. The shaft is what your aiming for, the funnel is there to catch any pee that doesn't go down the shaft. If your position is too high, it'll spill over the top and the sides, if too low it'll spill from the back. Try to control how fast you're peeing. If you pee too fast, it'll fill up and spill. On some of them, you can cut the hole in which the peeing goes through bigger. The Freely XL has a bigger pee hole so if you pee fast, the XL might help.

I highly recommend starting in the shower naked because you'll pee on yourself and it's a pain to have to keep changing your pants and underwear. Make sure the water is off so you can feel where you're spilling from. Plus it's easier to clean up the mess since you just have to turn on the water. Once you feel confident in peeing the shower, you can move to the toilet naked. You should have a towel down in case you pee on yourself and the floor. Once you got it naked. Try it with boxers. Try to have ones that open in the front so you can poke the shaft through. Again, once you got it with boxers, try wearing both boxers and pants.

Once you're ready to go in public, try to wear dark pants in case you make a mess. Dark pants are the best at hiding wet spots. Also drink lots of water because it will dilute your pee and make it smell less like pee. In public you can start in a stall and work your way up to a urinal.

Packing with STP

STPs can be harder to pack with since they are stiffer than soft packers so they can hold their shape when you need to pee. There's a few ways to pack. I'll add a picture of the different packing ways but I'll also explain them. These apply to both soft packers and STPs.

Packing down is where you take the shaft of the STP and put it down over the balls. This way makes the biggest bulge so unless you're trying to make it really noticeable, i don't recommend this one.

Packing up is where you take the shaft and put it straight up. This way makes the bulge more manageable, but it can be a bit uncomfortable depending on what pants you're wearing.

Packing left/right is taking the shaft and putting it along your hip. I have never done this style, so I can't say if it's good or not.

You can use normal underwear with STPs, but they have to be tight to keep the packing position. I recommend get STP underwear because they have an o-right to keep the STP in place.

Cleaning

You want to keep STPs clean since you can get a UTI from it, and it can start to smell bad fast. If you're able, give it a quick rinse in the sink. If not, use toilet paper to get the outside and possibly the inside of it dry. You can put it on the top rack of your dishwasher or boil it to sanitize it. You can also use hot water and mild soap to clean it.

That's all the tips I know and learned from others. Good luck and happy pissing!

With love, Miles, your trans big brother.

[skywalkerbootleg]

To all transmasc people who can't bind

Hey, I feel your pain as a transguy with easily irritated skin and bad shoulders. But over the years I learned how to deal with breast dysphoria without binding and I wanted to share that knowledge! (Keep in mind that I'm a 170cm white twink and not all of this will apply to everyone)

Don't and I mean don't wear bras. I know some people think that's the only alternative to binders, but there are way better options. I would always recommend sports bustiers over sports bras, especially the ones that don't have a "décolleté" (you might find them with the swim wear)

You probably heard this before, but let me emphasize, that layers are your best friend. I absolutely recommend a sweater jacket + jean jacket combo, it doesn't only look really good and let it look like you have broad shoulders, when you get too hot you can take off one jacket and still have layers that hide your chest

If it's too hot to wear layers, regularly tuck on your shirt to loosen it, if it sticks to your body, it emphasizes the shape of your chest

Focus on your other body parts! I, for example, pass pretty well, except for my chest. But because I look very masculine in general (well except for one thing) people still always assume I'm a guy. In summer I would recommend loose shorts (cloth ones are the most comfortable in my opinion), in winter I'd recommend cargo pants. Go for a more masculine hairstyle (masculine doesn't necessarily mean short), let your body hair grow out, use men's deodorant and do some voice training

Be confident! Pretend like you're not constantly dysphoric as f!ck, act really confused when someone misgenders you (like that never happened to you before), there are countless body types in men, and even some cis men look like they have boobs, if you pretend that you pass, people won't question it either

You don't need to present masculine to be valid, but as a masculine presenting trans guy I know that it helps a lot of us with dysphoria. I hope I could help you out a bit.

Remember to stay hydrated!

- Your trans brother Ryu

[argentatum]

I'll be your baby tonight [Sam/Dean fic]

3.3k words, wincest, P0rn with feelings, trans!Dean, slight au, pre-series, Stanford era

Written for the @brobonebang 's prompt: at the living room below sam and jess’ bedroom in their apartment.

Many thanks to @ohnoitsthebat for the amazing beta work!

[ i’ll come by tonight ]

Since Sam had received Dean’s message that afternoon, he hasn’t been able to contain himself - it’s a swirl of trepidation, impatience, anticipation, affection, that has slowly taken hold of his soul the moment Dean had left him, a few weeks ago, when they last saw each other.

He’s so transparent in his excitement, he doesn’t even pay any attention to the way his friends and classmates playfully tease him about it - he remembers telling them he has plans with Jessica later that day after classes, and doesn’t even feel guilty about it.

Dean will tease him too - you’re like a puppy, I can almost see your tail wagging - and Sam’ll die before he admits it, but he looks forward to it. The way Dean smiles and his green eyes crinkles at the edges as he makes fun of his little brother.

It’s been five, almost six weeks, since Dean had last visited him, and Sam misses him every single day.

As soon as the lecture ends, Sam is out of the door, out of campus, back at his apartment. Time doesn’t go by quick enough, and he tries to keep himself busy, to keep himself from thinking about his brother and popping a boner right there. He does some chores around the house, cooks dinner with Jessica after she comes home from her part-time job, and when most of the lights in the house are off, Sam finds himself on the couch, a cold beer in his hand to give himself something to do.

He’s mindlessly zapping through channels, but no matter what’s on the screen his mind keeps wandering to Dean.

Sam’s settled for a documentary on cheetahs, and he’s distractedly listening to the narrator explaining how those predators hunt their prey when he hears the stairs creak. Jessica comes down to the kitchen for a glass of water, her blond hair still damp from the shower she just took. Sam barely pays her any attention, his eyes on the screen.

“You’ve got classes in the morning,” Jessica reminds him with a smile.

“I know, I know,” Sam says. “I’m not sleepy yet. Don’t wait for me.”

“Okay, big guy.”

She passes by the couch, and leans towards him to plant a kiss on the crown of his hair. “Goodnight.”

Sam wishes her goodnight as she disappears upstairs.

The clock on the wall near the TV reads 12:34 when the low rumble of the Impala’s engine rolls on the street outside his apartment, and Sam’s heartbeat kicks up a notch. He’s here.

Dean’s climbing the stairs to the door when Sam opens it, and as soon as their eyes meet Dean flashes him a smile, all white teeth and bright-eyed, so bright that Sam is smiling back at him before he realizes it. And Sam doesn’t waste a second, doesn’t wait for his brother to step inside - he crowds him right on the doorstep, cups his brother’s head in his hands and crushes their lips together. It’s clumsy, and messy, but Sam doesn’t care.

Dean laughs against his lips, warm and bright and absolutely beautiful against the chill of the October night, before moving his calloused hands to Sam’s body, one on his hip and the other to his nape to bring them flush against each other. Sam claims his lips, whines his brother’s name against his tongue, and finally, finally, Dean stops laughing and returns the kiss, soothing some of Sam’s urgency and longing with a rush of affection. Sam can feel himself getting hard against Dean’s thigh where it’s shoved between his.

Dean’s stubble is coarse under his touch, and his scent is a balm against Sam’s soul. It’s a musky mix of his cologne, gun powder, and leather, interwoven with the fresh, minty perfume of the motel body wash he’s just used. The tips of his hair are still damp.

He smells perfect. Like home.

“Missed you too, Sammy,” Dean chuckles after he breaks the kiss, his voice low and raspy like gravel, warm like whiskey, sending shivers down Sam’s spine.

He’s here.

“Are you going to let me in or not?,” Dean asks, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Yeah, sure,” Sam says, and even to his ears his voice sounds breathless. Dean doesn’t comment on it while he walks past him, but Sam doesn’t miss the way his pretty mouth curls up in a far too pleased smirk.

Sam closes the door behind them, and when he turns, Dean’s taking off his leather jacket and throwing it against the backrest of the couch, takes a long swing of the beer Sam hadn’t finished.

In the dark of his living room, bathed only by the faint light of the television behind him, Sam looks at Dean - at the broadness of his shoulders, the sharpness of his jaw, the natural confidence he carries himself with, the dark green of his eyes that almost seem black. In that soft glow, Dean almost looks ethereal, like a vision, or a dream. Gorgeous. Sam’s so far gone he’s this close to spouting poetry about him.  He feels the urge to kiss him again, to kiss him senseless. To show him how much he’s missed him.

But when he walks close to his brother and he moves his hands to rest on his neck, his thumbs soothing circles on his skin, Sam asks instead. “You okay? You said you were on a hunt.”

Dean had only told him he and John were on a case a few towns over, didn’t say much else. At his question, his brother makes a scene of rolling his eyes. “It was just a ghost, textbook salt and burn.”

When Sam raises both his eyebrows and keeps silent, Dean snorts. “Just a few stitches.”

Dean huffs again, half exasperation half amusement, because he knows better. Sam won’t let it go until he’s sure Dean’s really okay. Dean raises his left arm for Sam to inspect - the sleeves of his flannel shirt are rolled up to his elbow to reveal bandages on his forearm.

Sam knows - he has patched his brother up more than a few times, before he came to Stanford - but he’s relieved nonetheless. He knows his brother is a hell of a hunter, one of the best in fact, despite his young age, but Sam can’t help but worry. Dean’s only human.

But Dean is right there in front of him, alive and beautiful and solid. His eyes reflecting the same want and longing Sam himself feels. “Now that you’re done fussing over nothing, c’mere.”

“Yes sir,” Sam murmurs against his brother’s mouth as he hooks a couple of fingers into the loops of Dean’s jeans and tugs his brother close.

“Good boy,” Dean says, pleased, and his last word is muffled as they kiss again, and before long a warm tendril of want curls down Sam’s spine, and Sam’s altogether too aware of how close they are, of how much he wants this.

They’ve got a few hours. Sam’ll take everything he can get. Sam’ll give Dean whatever he wants.

This thing between them has been going on for a while now, before Sam came to Stanford - making each other feel good. Belonging to one another, in every possible sense.

Reluctantly, Sam pulls back. “She’s upstairs,” Sam moans, almost forgetting to - reminds them both not to make too much noise.

Sam isn’t prepared for the way Dean suddenly puts his hands on Sam’s chest and shoves him. Sam trips and falls against the couch, and he’s opened his mouth to complain when Dean’s back against him, nuzzling at the skin just underneath Sam’s jaw.

“Dean,” Sam bites down on the noise that threatens to slip past his lips, while Dean’s mouth is kissing its way down his throat, then his neck and chest, along the dark trail under his belly button. Sam arches into his brother’s touch, and Dean flashes him one of his trademark cocky grins before he kneels between his little brother’s legs. As if he belongs there.

Since he was little Sam has known that his brother has an oral fixation. Dean has the bad habit of chewing on every pen he gets his hands on, eats all the time, bites his lips when he’s nervous or deep in thought, loves going down on Sam whenever he has the chance. Sam doesn’t mind of course. He’s got an unhealthy obsession of his own - his brother’s pretty pretty mouth.

Sam raises his hips from the couch when Dean hooks both hands in the waistband of his joggers and slips them down together with his boxers, and then Dean leans closer, his breath ghosting over the tip of his cock, hard as hell and already dripping with precome.

Sam can’t take his eyes off Dean as his brother angles himself so that his cock is against his lips, and then  licks at the fat beads of precome, letting out a moan as he tastes Sam on his tongue. Sam gasps. “Fuck.”

In response, Dean makes an appreciative sound in the back of his throat that Sam can feel around himself, and before he knows it one of Sam’s hands is fisted in Dean’s hair as more blood rushes south. “So good, Dean.”

It feels so fucking good, but Dean doesn’t give him enough time to adjust to the sensation that he’s taking him deep and only stops when the point of his nose rests aginst the coarse hairs at the base. The head of his cock bumps against the back of Dean’s throat and Sam nearly falls apart. His breath catches in his throat and it takes all of his will not to rock his hips and fuck his brother’s mouth. “Fuck,” he repeats breathlessly, as Dean’s tongue teases his length, slow and greedy and tantalizing. Then Dean pulls off, and the lack of warmth is almost painful, and Sam’s to the point of begging him when Dean’s red lips curl in a smirk before he drags his tongue over the underside of Sam’s dick, up against the head and then he dips into the slit.

“Please,” Sam begs, breathless and shaking under his brother. He’s close, so close. “Dean, please, I need-”

“I got you,” Dean murmurs against the base of his cock. “Come for me, Sam.”

Dean’s stubble tickles against his skin when he tenderly places a kiss in the inside of his thigh, and Sam can’t take his eyes off of his cock as it disappears past Dean’s lips. When he hollows his cheeks and sucks, Sam’s vision goes hazy for a moment, the hand in Dean’s hair tugging him down without meaning to, pushing him to take more of Sam. When Sam reopens his eyes,  Dean’s gazing up at him from under his lashes, his freckled cheeks flushed dark, Sam’s nestled deep into his throat again, until Dean’s nuzzled directly against his happy trail. So Sam moves his hips experimentally to push himself even deeper into that hot, perfect mouth, and Dean lets him.

“I- fuck, Dean, I-I’m gonna-”

It doesn’t take long for Sam’s thrusts to become erratic, desperate, before he’s fucking into his brother’s mouth, hard and fast - Sam sinks in as far as he can go before pulling out fully and slamming back in again, lost in how good, how perfect it feels. He makes a wrecked sound, his body strung tight as his orgasm crashes over him in tidal waves, spilling in his brother’s mouth. Dean sucks him through it, squeezes the last drops up and out of him like he can’t get enough of him. Looks at him as if Sam’s the most beautiful, precious thing in the world.

After that, all the tension drains from Sam’s body with the aftershocks and he sags against the backrest of the couch, breathing out Dean’s name.

They stay there for a few moments to catch their breaths, until Dean’s restless and starts moving again between his legs. “Sammy,” he croaks, voice sounding hoarse and downright needy, and it goes straight to Sam’s cock.

When Sam opens his eyes he’s met with a torturously gorgeous sight - Dean on his knees in front of him, hair tousled and lips swollen and red, eyes dark with want and love.

Sam can’t stand it any longer. He hauls Dean on his lap and cranes his neck forward, his mouth catching Dean’s bottom lip and sucking it for a second, before he claims his mouth with a kiss, hard and possessive. He tastes himself on Dean’s tongue and feels himself getting hard again.

“Fuck, I love it when you manhandle me,” Dean breathes against his lips, a light flush crawling up his neck. He gets comfortable on Sam’s lap, his muscular legs on either side of Sam’s, his weight grounding and comforting above him. His hands grasp at Sam’s t-shirt, twisting the fabric, and tug Sam closer. Sam feels shivery under his brother’s ministrations - Dean’s kisses are as possessive, languid, smooth strokes of his tongue and experienced pulls of his lips on Sam’s own.

Then Dean takes one of Sam’s hands and brings it to his groin, past the unzipped jeans and right down his boxers. Sam can feel how dripping wet he is through the fabric of his underwear. “I want your cock inside me, Sam. Had to jerk off on the way here ‘cause I couldn’t get you out of my head, couldn’t wait to get back to you.”

Dean isn’t prepared for the way Sam suddenly grabs his shoulders and pushes him flat on the couch, and Sam’s right behind him, presses their lips together in a bruising kiss. Dean kisses him back as his hands quickly take off his jeans, his hands going straight for Sam’s dick next, slick with his saliva and already leaking.

Sam slides his hands under Dean’s shirt, rakes the fabric up to reveal his brother’s taut stomach and chest. He slides his fingers across his scars, flicks Dean’s nipples with his thumbs and that earns him more gasps, more moans that sound like Sammy and baby. Sam’s hands descend along his torso, dottled with freckles and scars, to settle on his hips and squeeze. The bruises and hickeys Sam had left last time are long gone, but Sam doesn’t mind. He’ll mark that body over and over, he’ll keep marking Dean for the both of them, since they don’t want Jessica to become suspicious of him. Besides, Dean’s not ashamed, doesn’t try to hide or cover them. On the contrary, he wears them with pride. Blaming them on monsters has always worked so far.

“Want your cock, Sammy- I fucking need it,” Dean moans, as he opens his legs wider for Sam, and the ragged sound of his voice sends want cascading over Sam, thick and warm and dizzying. Sam can’t wait anymore, he takes his cock in his hands and brushes the tip against Dean's, against his folds, and finally aligns himself against his leaking hole.

“Fill me up with that big fat cock of yours, Sammy.”

Before Dean’s finished, Sam has already started pushing in. One rough, deep thrust of his hips and he’s balls deep in his brother. He tries to bite down a pleasured moan as Dean’s hot, tight body clenches around him. “You feel so good, Dean,” Sam says, moving his mouth along Dean’s jaw. “So tight…”

He bites and laps the skin there, letting Dean get adjusted to his cock inside him - Dean might have a big mouth, but they haven’t done it in a while and Sam’s a lot to handle. So, despite the urge and Dean’s words, Sam gives him time.

Then Dean moans and arches his back, working his hips in Sam’s hands, demanding Sam to move. Desire coils low in his stomach as Sam closes his eyes and drops his head to Dean’s chest - right above his heart. And then he moves, throws his weight behind his thrusts and holds him as he snaps his hips in quick, hard thrusts.

“Fuck, you fill me up so good, baby- so good for me, so perfect,” Dean pants, and suddenly he’s gasping, and Sam angles his hips to hit that spot again and again until Dean’s bucking into each thrust and biting back cries, his body trembling, shaking and tightening all around him. Because of him.

Dean’s starting to get too loud, so Sam turns his head to catch his brother’s lips and kisses him deeply, swallowing his groans as he fucks him harder and deeper. He can feel Dean tightening, and it’s pushing him close too, so Sam leans against his elbows to cradle Dean’s face in his hands, and watches him come apart beneath him, pulsing hot and hard around Sam’s cock.

All it takes for Sam is Dean to whimper out his name, a few more frantic thrusts, and Sam’s coming too - the sensation so blinding and pure it nearly knocks him right out. His arms give in and he slumps against his brother, his breath in soft panting gasps against the sweaty skin of Dean’s neck. 

As they’re laying there to catch their breath, both of them shaking, Dean once again takes one of his hands to bring it down between his legs, letting him touch and feel the mess he’s made. Sam feels pride swell in his chest, almost as bright as the orgasm that just shook his body.

When he has his breath under control, Sam opens his eyes to find Dean watching him. His lips are curled in an affectionate, sated grin, and as Sam returns the smile he feels himself lose in those pretty green eyes. Then Dean’s hands slide up to hold his neck and bring him up, and the kiss Dean gives him is so tender it makes Sam’s head dizzy.

They lay there, in comfortable silence, and when they start to feel cold Sam drapes one of the clean blankets above them. Sam nuzzles against him, inhales his scent - sex, cologne, gun powder, leather - and he’s home.

It takes a while for Sam’s contentment to morph into something more bitter, as it always does. Even if he’s got his brother in his arms, right where he wants him, Sam already misses him.

“Stay,” Sam finds himself asking in a whisper.

For the night.

Forever.

With me.

Sam doesn’t say. He doesn’t need to.

He asks him every single time, even if he already knows the answer. Sam’s got a life here, a girlfriend, a future, Dean had told him the first time he asked. Dean doesn’t fit in, never has and never will. And besides, their dad needs him.

But Dean can’t keep himself away from his little brother for long, and Sam had made it clear he didn’t want him to anyway. Far from it. So Sam asks, every time, hoping against hope. Because Dean always comes back to him no matter how far away or how long the family business keeps him from Sam.

“Can’t,” Dean murmurs, places a kiss against Sam’s temple. “Gotta get back to John. He’s already got a new job.”

Sam wants to protest, but he thinks better of it. They’re both stubborn and Sam’s not going to change his mind tonight.

“You’re heavy,” Dean grunts after a while, and even if he shifts under Sam he doesn’t push him away. Instead, he slides his arm to rest it around Sam’s shoulder to hold him closer to his chest. It’s hot, almost uncomfortably so, and they’re both covered in sweat and their own fluids and the couch is a mess, but there’s nowhere else in the world Sam wants to be.

“Shut up.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk,” Sam sighs, sleepy and content, and slowly falls asleep to the sound of Dean’s heart.

When Sam rouses from his sleep, the sun is already shining through the curtains and Dean is long gone.

Sam gets on with his day, his life. And he waits for his brother’s next text message.

[AO3 link]

[genderqueerdykes]

Hey, I’m sort of just coming around to the idea that I’m actually a man, and it’s incredibly overwhelming. Mostly due to the fact that I am five feet tall, I’m usually mistaken for a young teenager, (I’m 25), and I sing opera for a living. (Soprano, the highest voice type, btw). I know that because of this, I will most likely never take testosterone unless I want to give up my career and start completely over. Considering how in debt I am from my music degrees, that’s not really an option. I’ve been trying to work out to gain muscle in the places that will make my body more masculine and lose weight in the places that make me feminine, but I’m feeling discouraged. Do you have any tips on how I can feel comfortable with myself as a man who in all likelihood will be mistaken for a woman for the rest of my life? Or how I can convince people that I am a man when I have hips and breasts (until I can afford top) and a baby face and no facial hair and a voice like Snow White and am five feet tall? I don’t even feel comfortable coming out yet because I’m afraid I will be seen as a joke. I already publicly use they/them pronouns, but it always feels like I’m still treated and regarded as a girl (not even a woman, I’m infantilized for my height, voice, and face even by those who regard me as female) I guess I still have internal transphobia because I feel like I can’t allow myself to be a “real man” unless I look and sound more like a cis man.

hey, i hear you brother- i'm a big fat motherfucker, i'm in the upper 200s - 300s naturally and i have a lot of muscle mass that makes me look really weird. my proportions are all over the place due to being intersex. my hips are wider than god and i was blessed with a big fat ass that makes people cat call etc. because i also have a lot of tone to my body like i said. i get mistaken as a cis or trans woman a lot, especially when i wear long hair.

my advice for you: you feel very overwhelmed, and i feel your pain. it's okay to not know where to start. one step at a time when transitioning. i know your brain is telling you you need to look like a cis man before you can accept yourself. but it will take some time to get there. pick one thing that gives you a lot of dysphoria and figure out how to solve that and turn that around for you to the best of your ability given what you can. let's say you're stressed about wide hips- me too brother, i can't fit into men's pants at all i have to get 48" waist pants- research compression shorts, or shapewear like Spanx that are designed for larger ppl who want to conceal rolls.

once you have your hips looking how you want, you can move on to finding pants, shorts, etc. that suit your body shape in a masc way. guys have suggested Target, i suggest going to a thrift store and looking at all the different styles of men's pants and see which ones you like. you can try different kinds for super cheap this way.

then you can keep going from there. i know it's hard, but one step at a time and celebrate when you achieve something. when you look in the mirror and see a flatter, broader chest because you found a good binder and a good cut of shirt and think you look awesome, and when you look in the mirror after you've been working out for a few weeks and think, damn, i'm looking a lot more buff, my jaw is starting to look squarer, etc. celebrate your heart out. send pics to all your friends that know you're trans. squeal and cry and be happy about your victories and milestones. they're all worth celebrating, even if it's as something as small as finding boxers that make you look more like a guy. celebrate your manhood.

it makes it an enjoyable experience until you can access things like medical transition if that's your end goal. take care king, you'll get there. one step at a time. you got this. =)

[whosthatpokaimon]

I think it's about time I post about my Gotham OC, because one (1) person wanted to know about him and now I'm going to make everybody listen to my half hour rant about this gremlin

Spade "Ace" Culligan

Spade was always into card, chip, and dice games as a kid. It most likely didn't help that both of his parents were professional gamblers, but he enjoyed it, and that's all that mattered. As he got older, he would learn more and more from his parents about the world of gambling and his interest would only grow from there. He became a big brother when he was 4 and that younger sibling came out as a trans woman named Diamond when she was 13 and Spade was 17.

That same year, Spade's parents were out at a HUGE poker game that went on well into the night. The game finally ended at 1:30 AM when his parents won. They were certainly no strangers to winning games like this, but when your chances of winning are based purely on luck in a game this big, it's hard not to be excited about it. They drove home with the cash and went to bed after sharing celebratory drinks and make out sessions.

But, there was one thing wrong in this game. It was rigged. Not rigged to let Spade's parents win, but rigged for the leader of a local gang to win. And yet, his parents still won. Fair and square. The gang leader was not happy. So, at 4:15 AM, he sent out two of his gang members to break into their house and shoot the family dead. Spade woke up to the sounds of the gunshots in his parents' room and immediately rushed to Diamond's room to wake her up. They had managed to escape the house before the gang got to them, but not before Spade passed by his parents' room and the image of his mother's and father's blood and brains scattered across the wall burned itself into his retinas.

Spade and Diamond loaded up into Spade's car and drove off. They weren't going in any particular direction and Diamond was still confused about what was even going on. Spade didn't want to tell the whole story of the break-in, the gunshots, and the gang, but he had to at least tell her that their parents were dead.

At first, he wasn't driving in any particular direction, but he managed to make it out of Gotham and into Metropolis, where he formulated a plan to protect the one family member he had left. He parked the car in front of Metropolis' city hall and told Diamond that she needed to stay there, for her own safety. She was reluctant, but Spade was persistent. She gave her brother one final hug with tears running down her face before he drove off.

He came back to Gotham, where he was in relative hiding for a year or so, couch surfing or squatting in abandoned buildings and living off of the money that he inherited from his parents. He began his criminal career when he started gambling on his own, tips and tricks he had learned from his parents over the years still ingrained in his memory. He could easily detect if someone was cheating, and each time, rage boiled in his chest whenever he saw one.

His criminal record began when he started tracking down the cheaters he found at his gambling games and murdering them in the middle of the night. He earned the alias "Ace" in the newspapers when he started leaving playing cards behind at his scenes—the Ace of Spades. He was finally caught and thrown into Arkham when he was 21, where he met Edward Nygma. When Oswald broke Ed out of Arkham, Ed wanted to take Spade with them, having built a bond of allyship and friendship during their time in the Asylum. Oswald agreed, reluctantly, and let Spade stay with them at the Van Dahl mansion.

Spade found himself back in Arkham when he blamed himself for Oswald getting shot on the pier and began having manic episodes and blackouts. His time there was relatively short-lived when Jerome gathered a posse to escape and wreak havoc on Gotham. He began flying solo once again when the bridges were blown and spent the following eight years coming up with more ways to establish his character and found his home in a bunker underneath a local casino. He began using sharpened cards as weapons, crafted smoke bombs and mini grenades out of dice, and implemented small microphones into poker chips for spying.

He grew more agile and precise in his doings, when in the middle of a heist one night, he spotted a face he knew he could never forget. Diamond. He hurriedly took her back to his hideout and asked her why she came back to Gotham. She stated that while Metropolis was nice and she went to college for fashion design and a minor in coding, Gotham was still her home and she was a grown woman now. She had heard stories of her brother in the newspapers and wasn't deterred at all. In fact, she wanted to join him. Spade could have never agreed to it if she wasn't enthusiastic about the idea. They came up with a partnership plan where, while Spade would be out committing his crimes, she would stay behind and be the all-seeing eye, of sorts. Hacking into cameras and security systems to ensure the upmost success, keeping an eye on her brother and his surroundings, and making sure he could finish his job quickly and quietly.

They reunited with Oswald and Edward after they both got out of prison and Arkham respectively and remained friends and allies for the time being. Spade and Diamond both entered relationships—Diamond with a trans masc boyfriend, Heart, and Spade with his boyfriend, Chris, who was nicknamed Club to humor their group of names—and became their own gang, the House of Cards.

In an alternate universe, Spade creates a podcast where he lets various members of the Rogue's gallery on to talk about their drama, which was apparently more intriguing than he thought it would be, as a solid 72% of Gothamites would tune in to hear the latest story from Jeremiah, Scarecrow, Ivy, and so on. He only let Jervis on his show once, as he was too annoying to come back on air.

I know this was long, I'm sorry, but I love my son so much

[hawkland]

(Mostly) Destiel fic recs #12: Long fics that deserve more love

Hello all and happy Easter, to those of you who celebrate.

I’m well overdue for another recs round-up post, so I decided to do this one on a theme, pulling from my many (many, many) reads over the past few months. I’ve read quite a few big classics but they’ve been recced all over the place already. So how about some longer (20k+) fics that I feel could use some more love?

To that end, I’ve been reading through some older DCBB collections, fic not on A03, as well as more recent stories that just haven’t gotten tons of attention (yet). So here’s eight of those that I definitely recommend checking out if you’re in the mood for some fic that might have slipped your attention otherwise.

(As always past recs and reads with comments and tags are all up on my pinboard.)

Pretend You’re Going to Miss Me by eva_roisin (53k) - This was a wip I’d been following for some time which I wasn’t sure would ever get finished, but to my delight it finally was, not too long ago. It’s a Balthazar point-of-view, post-series fix-it focused on Heaven and the angels Jack has rescued from the Empty. Many of them are not in the best of physical or mental shape after all they went through—Cas, in particular, is off-limits to most visitors except for Jack until better healed from his trauma. Balthazar waits with seemingly equal parts eagerness and dread to see his former brother-in-arms again, and perhaps open up to the depth of his feelings for Castiel. But will Cas still be hung up on that damned human, Dean Winchester? 

This is a great fic for “angelnatural” lovers like myself, and I enjoyed all the flashback scenes filling in what happened with Cas & Balthazar working together during the Season 6 civil war arc. By the end I couldn’t even decide which relationship I was rooting for more: Cas/Balthazar or Dean/Cas, and I won’t spoil how it ends. All I’ll say is I was actually a bit surprised, at first, at the path the author chose, but upon thinking it over, it was bittersweet yet felt right. I really loved this story no matter what and it was a refreshingly different “fix-it” fic for me.

The rest of my recs below the cut.

Gates of Bronze and Bars of Iron by iCeDreams (80k)  - An alternative Season 9 fic.  As the story opens, we find Dean is in Heaven, having been killed by Metatron. Cas is still (mostly) human, fallen and on Earth, working with a still-alive Kevin Tran. They're hunting together while also trying to find a way to reverse Metatron's spell - the same thing Dean is working on, too, when not helping other souls who wish to return to Earth be reincarnated. Cas and Kevin, meanwhile, discover a disturbing situation where babies are being born soulless, except for those being born with "old souls". In two separate realms, Dean and Cas slowly work toward solving these various mysteries, reopening the gates of Heaven to the angels, and eventually reuniting with each other as well. I loved this story for how incredibly creative and detailed it was in developing a structure to Heaven - with multiple circles or levels, much like the supposed nine circles of hell. Cas's characterization is especially beautiful here; he is not shown as lost or despondent over Dean's death but simply certain they will some day see each other again, for as an angel his understanding of time, life, heaven and earth is so different from a human's. The relationship between Cas & Kevin is delightfully done as well. While originally written for the 2014 DeanCasBigBang, the author is currently working on a sequel now - so check this story out and subscribe to the series to find out where it leads.

Freakshow by Mme_Yersinia (26k) -  I had the delight of beta-reading this fic and can unabashedly rec it, especially for those of you who love Standford-era Dean—and a health dose of wing-kink. ;) It's set not long after Sam has gone off to college, leaving Dean to hunt on his own or with his dad. John sends Dean off on a tip about a carnival faith healer claiming to use the powers of a "captive angel." Of course there's no such thing as angels, Dean knows, but he goes off to investigate what's really going on. I'm sure you can imagine what happens next, when Dean lays his eyes on the poor, bedraggled and chained, winged creature on the healer's stage. Whatever he is, Dean isn't going to leave him to suffer such abuse. After freeing the angel, the two stick together while Cas recuperates and Dean does his best to dodge his father, and something deeper begins to grow between them. This is just a lovely, sweet read if you're in the mood for some tender hurt/comfort and eventual hot wingkink and smut (in the epilog fic, "Geek Love"). There's a clever twist/spin on angel grace that comes into play, and the fic features a characterization of Dean that I love as well, one where he's aware of his bisexuality vs. totally freaking out over possibly being interested in a guy. While it takes time for Dean & Cas to get together here it's not due to "gay panic" on Dean's part, but the other hurdles before them and all that Cas has been through during his captivity.

This Nervous Condition by Anonymous (30k) - Dean anonymous author, I don’t know who you are but I love you for this delicious, bad/wrong/Godstiel/mpreg-fic set in an alternative Season 7. Dean keeps seeing Cas in his dreams, and they end up doing...things...in those dreams. Sexy things, until Dean suddenly finds himself metaphysically pregnant with his and Cas's nephilim babies (that’s right, plural). It’s beautifully written and descriptive while also deeply unsettling. All the best things when it comes to Godstiel fic!

Contrapasso by takadainmate (59k) - I was pointed toward takadainmate’s fic a while back thanks to failfandom_anon. Not all of this author’s fic is on Ao3, but this one is and it’s my favorite that I’ve read to date. It was written for the 2010 DeanCasBigBang and the sparse tags make it easy to overlook while browsing. It’s an incredibly intense and spooky case-fic set in early Season 6, wherein Cas asks for Dean and Sam's help to investigate the disappearance of several angels in a town which...doesn't seem to actually exist. Everything about the town just seems wrong from the start, and that wrongness only progresses steadily from weird unease to abject chaos and terror the longer the three spend there. To say too much is to take away from the brilliance of this fic, rich with memorable dark and creepy imagery and a great Team Free Will dynamic. 

Six Degrees by strangenessandcharm (23k) - One of this author’s works which to date hasn’t been archived at AO3 but can be found on their dreamwidth account. It goes canon-divergent after 6.22 and is set in a world where Cas has left Dean & Sam’s company after being stripped of his godlike powers and apologizing profusely for all he'd done. Five years have passed since then, during which time vampires have been growing ever stronger and more rampant until they threaten to put an end to what's left of humanity. This seems to be the result of some kind of “super vampire” who lets others drink from his blood, giving them some of his strength and powers. When Sam is turned into a vampire and eventually drinks blood, Dean thinks that there's no hope for any of them—that is, until Crowley gives him a lead, and he finds out what exactly has happened to his angel. 

This fic features all the delicious, classic Cas!whump I’d expect from this author, but with Cas also being a total bamf! as well (which is why I love their stories so much; even when Cas is suffering, he never becomes a total helpless woobie).

The Space Between by DarkHeartInTheSky (73k) -  A story from the 2021 Dean/Cas PineFest I stumbled on while searching for some Season 12 related hurt/comfort reads, this one goes canon-divergent after "Stuck in the Middle with You." The events of that episode, with Cas almost dying, cause Dean to reevaluate his feelings and relationship with Cas while also struggling with his mother’s perceived betrayal. Meanwhile, Gabriel is back and he has surprising news: there were originally seven archangels, not four, one of whose name has been lost to time. Can we guess who that is?  I thought this was a solid alternative take on how canon could have evolved from that point into a different take on Jack’s birth and fighting Lucifer, while also exploring a growing relationship between Dean & Cas.

The Life of Death by yellowturtle (38k) - This 2014 DeanCasBigBang fic is one I stumbled upon while searching for Death!Cas fics. I usually have seen that as a series end fix-it scenario, so I wasn’t expecting to find an older fic with time loops and where Cas literally is OG Death, as portrayed by Julian Richings, at the same time he’s the Cas we know. Are you confused? Don’t be, just give it a read and see for yourself! 

I’d actually say I enjoyed the first chapter of this fic the most and it could have pretty well stood on its own as a rather open-ended yet fascinating one shot. The re-interpretation of Dean & Death’s scenes and canon, up through Season 9 or so, is fascinating, though whether it entirely works is something you’ll have to decide for yourself. The ending is perhaps more mutedly optimistic than a happy one, I’ll add, so proceed with that caution in mind. But it’s certainly a unique read and idea, and very well-written.