#top surgery writing

[lycanlovebites]

busy thinking abt T4T werewolf + vampire boyfriends…

werewolf boyfriend who brings his mate fresh prey every day and carefully cooks the best parts into stews and pies when his mate gets sick.

vampire boyfriend who makes sure that he and his boyfriend takes their allergy meds before they go out to eat garlicky food because they’re both garlic-intolerant and often forget and get upset stomachs afterwards.

werewolf boyfriend who carefully trims his fur around his top surgery scars after every big shift so they’re more visible.

vampire boyfriend who cooks lovely meals for his boyfriend and gratefully drinks his blood afterwards in exchange.

Werewolf boyfriend who gently wraps himself around his mate when he’s recovering from top surgery, propping him up while he rests, bringing him his favorite prey and foods so he heals well. Werewolf boyfriend who makes sure to provide him with plenty of blood-infused drinks and soft foods to help him gain his energy, bringing him medicine and covering him in soft pelts to keep him warm.

Werewolf boyfriend who keeps his mate entertained with tales of old hunts and stories his pack told him, reading his mate’s favorite poetry out loud for hours and quietly howling lullabies until he falls asleep in his fluffy embrace.

Werewolf boyfriend who helps his boyfriend settle into bed and makes sure he doesn’t stay up all night, knowing he would probably be too stubborn to rest when he could be doing so many other things, like rereading that book he loved, or painting, or playing the piano late into the night or lurking around the abandoned church with his fellow bat companions who lived there.

Werewolf boyfriend who sleeps next to his mate, careful to watch his drains and not touch his binder, even though he wants nothing more than to hold his mate safe and tight in his arms as they fall asleep. werewolf boyfriend who makes sure every single one of his mate’s plushies are accounted for and goes hunting around the house for them when one goes missing because he knows his mate misses being able to turn into a bat and resting with his other bat companions and his many plushies make him feel better when he can’t join the other bats. (All the other bats, who are just normal bats not vampires, patiently wait for him to join them when he feels strong enough to shapeshift again to join their colony. For now they wait in the rafters of the manor for him.)

vampire boyfriend who takes care of his big strong boyfriend as he recovers from his top surgery, surrounding him in pillows and silky sheets, making sure he rests and takes things slow because he’s not used to letting himself be taken care of this way.

Vampire boyfriend who meticulously records his boyfriend’s drains, emptying the ampules and saving the blood for later. Taking care of his boyfriend can be a bit tiring and while he wants nothing more than to be there for him, he tends to forget to feed himself, and his boyfriend agrees that there’s no reason for all that blood to go to waste.

Vampire boyfriend who carefully wraps his boyfriend’s painkillers in lumps of cheese and venison to help it go down easier.

Vampire boyfriend who brings his boyfriend new books to read to him and playing his favorite songs on the old piano and letting the melodies echo through their manor, helping his boyfriend out of bed and into the garden so he can feel grass under his paws again and feel wind in his fur.

Vampire boyfriend who gently scratches his boyfriend’s back and behind his ears where he can’t reach. Vampire boyfriend who turns into a bat and rests on his boyfriend’s forehead, giving him little tiny bat kisses on the bridge of his snout as they fall asleep together.

[orcaking]

My body is a collection of all the parts that came before! 🌱🌱🌱

[Image ID: A drawing of a trans masculine person, nude except for underwear. The figure has top surgery scars, and no head, the bottom of a jaw bone with plants growing from it floating above the neck. There are flowers, mushrooms, and stars surrounding the figure, and a bird flying to the left of the canvas. /. End ID]

[genderqueerdykes]

going insane thinking about how a lot of people don't understand that the labels FtM and MtF can also be used to describe intersex experiences and don't always necessarily reflect willing changes or inherently trans experiences. it makes me go insane when i realize i'm MtF but it's impossible to talk about because people don't understand that intersex experiences do not mirror trans experiences 1:1 and they don't have to because they're unique experiences that aren't shared by anyone else.

both trans and intersex experiences deserve equal space to be discussed. sometimes someone's sex changes multiple times. sometimes that's willing, sometimes it's not. whether or not it's voluntary doesn't make it any more important or valid to discuss. people who were born one way but were placed on hormones and/or had corrective procedures done still had a sex change done to them.

i'm MtFtM because i want my body to go back to the way it was before i was forced to undergo "corrective" treatment and procedures. that doesn't make me cis, this is an inherently intersex experience, and it does encompass being both MtF and FtM. it's complicated because of what i've gone through, both of my own volition, and against my will.

let intersex people discuss these experiences and be heard. break down the binary in your mind of what these phrases mean. our lives depend on it.

[mensmommymilkers]

Hey have I mentioned I’m obsessed with them

[copepods]

having a bad day so to distract myself started making a college au chatfic. wilbur wants top surgery and hijinks ensue. i dont know where this would go from here but it was a fun distraction and i think it is at least a little funny

part 2!!!!

[trensu]

Guess who's baaaaack! It's me, I'm back to writing. My laptop when kaput back in May and I've only recently gotten a replacement. In celebration of this, here's more of stasis in darkness. Enjoy :)

.

“Hello. I’ve wanted to meet you for years,” the god said. 

“Years? But, why would you want–? I’m–I’m no one, Lord.”

“Don’t say that.”

The god’s voice hadn’t gotten louder, yet his words carried a force that made the room tremble. The air became heavy with it. Wayne’s breathing grew haggard under the pressure of the words. Steve tossed out any idea of false privacy and crossed the room in a few steps to kneel at the other side of the bed. He took Wayne’s free hand to anchor him. Wayne didn’t so much as twitch in his direction but his knuckles went white as he gripped Steve’s hand.

“You gave me your spoils and your stories every night. I felt your love in every word you spoke to me. You’re the reason I’ve been able to exist this long. Wayne Munson, you are the most important person in the world to me."

Wayne let out a wordless cry. The hand in Steve's shook. Steve viscerally remembered how it felt to have the god’s attention like that for the first time. He also remembered how guilty the god sounded after he realized the effect he had on mortals. With a slight grimace, Steve discreetly nabbed the Lord of Night's attention. 

"I think that was a little too much," Steve suggested cautiously in a low tone barely audible over Wayne's sobs. "Maybe dial it back a little?"

The Lord of Night nodded abashedly. When he spoke again, the pressure in his speech noticeably lessened though the love in his words remained.

“So, you see, I needed to meet you in person. To thank you.”

The last part made Wayne weep louder. The grip he had on Steve’s hand increased in strength, and Steve was sort of relieved Wayne was an old man because even this frail, his hands were pretty damn strong. If he’d been any younger, Steve would’ve had bruises for sure. The god waited patiently as Wayne collected himself.

“My Lord, y-you–” Wayne gasped as his crying subsided. “I don’t deserve–”

“Wayne, you crazy old man, are you going to argue with your god?” the Lord of Night said in the same teasing tone he used with Steve all those nights in his pilgrimage. Wayne’s eyes widened.

“N-No! I’d never–!”

The god laughed, playful and bright as a star. Wayne halted his protests to stare in awe again. 

“You know, I usually encourage a bit of dissent but this time, I’m putting my foot down. You do deserve this, okay?”

Wayne nodded dazedly. He still watched the god with soft, warm eyes. His hand twitched in Steve’s as if he wanted to reach up to touch the god. Steve loosened his grip to allow it but Wayne didn’t follow through with the motion.

“...you remind me of someone,” Wayne whispered. The Lord of Night tilted his head curiously.

“Do I?” he asked. At Wayne’s nod, he added, “I hope it’s someone good. I know what people say about me these days, and let me tell you, it’s not super flattering. King of Darkness this and monster herder that, blah, blah, mean and scary, blah.”

“I know better than to pay any mind to hearsay,” Wayne replied. "I’ve found that most people are fools, my Lord." 

The Lord of Night laughed again. Wayne looked delighted. 

The rest of the night continued along the same line. The Lord of Night listened eagerly to Wayne’s every word as he reminisced about past heists and recalled fond childhood memories. Steve kept to himself, for the most part, letting the Lord of Night and his last believer bask in each other’s presence. Wayne stayed awake as long as he could but finally fell asleep as dawn approached. The Lord of Night began to fade as the first rays of the morning peeked through the bedroom window.

“Watch over him for me, please?” the Lord of Night asked Steve. “I’ll be back tonight.”

“Of course, Lord,” Steve replied. 

The sun broke past the horizon and the Lord of Night vanished. Steve took the stone from the bedside table. He wrapped it up carefully in cloth before returning it to his satchel. That level of care probably wasn’t necessary considering it was solid stone but it was the only thing they knew would keep the god tethered to this plane so far from his last shrine. Steve was charged with carrying his god's tether and he would not let him down by being careless with it.

It was also the only thing he had been given that belonged to his god. Typically, a holy warrior would be granted a symbol of their faith by a temple priest once a god had accepted the holy warrior’s offered service. Most of the time it would be a simple pendant or bracelet with a god’s sigil; a mass produced thing any follower could obtain, the only difference being that a holy warrior’s token would carry a particular blessing from the high priest. A holy warrior would carry that as a sign of their commitment until they’ve earned a more prestigious item to replace it during their years of service.

Steve’s journey so far has been as atypical as it could get. Most warriors traveled to their god's grandest temple. They recited that god's specific prayer for a holy warrior's offering, witnessed by a high priest who would then reveal whether the offering was accepted. Steve's god had no official prayers of any sort, much less temples or clergy. Steve's god couldn't really remember his own symbol aside from a vague outline of it; not nearly enough for it to be inscribed on even the simplest of tokens. 

Regardless, Steve wouldn't trade his experience for anything. Most holy warriors toiled for years, even decades, before getting a chance to meet their god. Steve met his god nearly at the beginning though he hadn't known it at the time. He'd been able to see him and speak to him. Steve’s humble offering of servitude had been accepted directly by his god rather than by priestly proxy. So what if his god wasn't able to grant him a token for his pledge? His presence was a privilege Steve would take over any boon.

It was a sentiment Steve knew Wayne understood. Steve scooted his chair closer to the bed where the old man lay sleeping. He wrapped a hand around Wayne's wrist to track his weak pulse, and settled in for his vigil.

–

Steve woke Wayne a handful of times to make sure he drank some water or ate some of the vegetable soup Steve had thrown together using whatever he’d picked from the garden the day before. They chatted for a while; Wayne telling Steve about his life before age and sickness caught up to him. Eventually, Steve was able to coax him back to sleep when it became obvious his energy was fading.

At some point in the day, Wayne’s temperature began to rise. Nothing worrisome yet, but dread trickled into Steve’s veins regardless. The old man had been fighting whatever ailed him for a while now. If a fever overcame him, Steve doubted Wayne would survive it.

When the Lord of Night appeared alongside the fading sunset, he seemed as worried as Steve. Wayne sat in bed, propped up by pillows Steve had strategically placed. His eyes were rheumy but steady.

“You’ve seen the Door already, haven’t you?” the Lord of Night asked Wayne dejectedly.

Wayne’s gaze strayed from the god. He glanced at the corner opposite of the bedroom door. His hands shook as he tried to point that direction. Steve didn't see any door there. The god took Wayne's hand between his own, tangible to his last believer even as he appeared more translucent than the night before.

“It showed up earlier today,” Wayne whispered. The god nodded.

“You don’t have to answer yet, but soon. Once you go through the Door, you’ll be in Death's domain. No god is allowed to enter there besides him. I would have lost my chance to meet you if we’d been delayed any longer.”

“Good thing you have Ser Steve. He got you here real quick from what he told me,” Wayne said with a crooked smile.

“Has he been talking himself up?” the god asked amusedly. “Trying to impress the boss?”

“It’s my first quest,” Steve butted in with mild exasperation borne of embarrassment. He hadn’t expected Wayne to mention him at all during his communion with the Lord of Night. “I have to make a good impression.”

“To make up for the first impression, huh?” the Lord of Night teased. 

Oh no, Steve thought when he caught Wayne’s curious look. He wanted to hide his face in his hands. That would be childish. Steve was a man so he was above that, unfortunately.

“Wayne,” the Lord of Night said with palpable mischief. “In exchange for all the stories you’ve given me these many years, what if I told you how I got my very first holy warrior?”

“I didn’t know better,” Steve groaned weakly in an effort to stop the story before it began in earnest. The Lord of Night made a shushing motion in his direction. 

“It would be a privilege, Lord,” Wayne said with matching mischief.

“Settle in, my loyal follower, and listen closely,” the Lord of Night began with exuberance. “I call this tale The Trial of Nine Nights.”

The rest of the night, the god recounted Steve’s pilgrimage. The way he told it painted Steve as some sort of gallant hero. It was suspenseful and whimsical. It didn’t sound like Steve’s experience at all. Yet every word was true, told with a flair that Steve himself would never have imagined. Wayne had hung on his god’s every word, despite the sporadic interruptions caused by coughing fits.

“The way you tell stories…” Wayne said faintly between coughs as the story wound to an end. “You…really do remind me of…someone. My little starmaker*. He was…” His voice trailed off weakly as he tried to catch his breath again.

“Rest now. Tell me about him tonight, Wayne,” the Lord of Night commanded as he disappeared with the arrival of dawn.

Wayne’s temperature seemed to climb with the sun. Steve did what he could to help. He stripped the bed of blankets and draped cold, damp towels over Wayne’s brow. More than once Wayne had asked Steve to answer the door.

“Someone’s knocking,” Wayne insisted.

“I’ve checked already,” Steve lied. He hadn’t heard a single knock all day, much less one coming from the very door-less spot Wayne kept indicating. “No one’s there.”

Wayne drifted in and out of a restless slumber. Despite Steve’s efforts, the fever had not lowered by nightfall. The Lord of Night paced at the foot of Wayne’s bed with a caged restlessness. Wayne had yet to wake up. 

“I don’t think he’s going to make it. Can you do anything for him?” Steve asked, hesitantly. “You came here to help him, didn’t you?”

“No,” the Lord of Night said shortly. “I can’t. I’m not a god of medicine. I’m not a healer.”

Each word was said with increasingly helpless frustration.

“I’m not strong enough to calm his dreams. I can’t ease his pain,” the Lord of Night said angrily. “At this rate, I won’t even be able to apologize to him.”

“Apologize for what?” Steve asked incredulously. Steve’s question went unheard. The Lord of Night tugged at his hood as if trying to hide his not-face. He gave up his pacing and slumped defeatedly on the chair beside Wayne’s bed.

“His family has sustained me for so long. He’s so devoted to me, and I keep failing him,” the god said, voice thick with shame. The brooding silence that followed was unlike the Lord of Night’s usual demeanor.

Steve wanted to protest the god’s claim. He was tempted to ask why the god believed he’d failed his last follower. Steve had seen people who’ve scorned and rejected their gods for a multitude of reasons. Wayne had not behaved like any of those people. Wayne had been so happy to see the god, Steve couldn’t imagine Wayne wanting an apology of any sort.

Before Steve could steel himself to ask, Wayne finally stirred awake.The Lord of Night straightened and drew the chair closer to his last follower. Steve situated himself near the corner Wayne had claimed to see a door. There wasn’t anything Steve could realistically achieve by placing himself between Wayne and the unseen door. When Death’s Door knocked, there was nothing a mortal being could do to keep it from opening. Regardless, Steve hoped he could provide some semblance of comfort by standing guard. 

Wayne’s eyes were glassy. He lay limp and disoriented, making not a sound outside his labored breathing. Neither the Lord of Night nor Steve spoke. Steve didn’t want to startle the man nor bring his attention to the unseen door. After a few minutes, Wayne finally noticed his bedside companion. 

“You,” he croaked in a daze. “I know you.”

“Yeah, it’s me.” The somber tone went unnoticed by Wayne whose entire face brightened with an unexpected joy. 

“Eddie,” Wayne said shakily. 

“What?”

“Eddie, you’re here,” Wayne said with more love and joy than Steve had ever heard from another person. He felt a momentary flash of envy that someone could hold another so dear, before it hit him that Wayne was speaking to the Lord of Night. The god seemed as dumbstruck as Steve over it.

“Is…is that me?” the Lord of Night asked. The god sounded so young and lost. It reminded Steve of Dustin and his friends when they were small. It inspired all the same protective instincts.

“‘course it’s you, Eddie,” Wayne said fondly. 

“Eddie,” the Lord of Night whispered. “Oh, it is. It is me. I’m here.” 

The words rang through the air. The finality in them nearly deafened Steve. The words were a realization that shifted the entire cosmos. The air he breathed, the light he saw, the very world he perceived had changed fundamentally. It was a change so loud and obvious, Steve was certain every human left on earth and everyone beyond the Door knew it happened. Yet between one blink and the next, the world remained the same as it ever was. Everything that had been still was and would continue to be for as long as the stars burn.

Inexplicably, Steve experienced a bout of vertigo at the shift that had and hadn’t happened. He fought back a wave of nausea that accompanied it.

“Eddie,” Wayne rasped over the rattling of his weak lungs. No longer translucent, the god appeared solid and real in a way he hadn’t even at the shrine where Steve first encountered him. Wayne’s wrinkled hand reached out to gently cup the Lord of Night’s cheek.

"Hey, Uncle Wayne," the Lord of Night said with a new voice. 

"My starmaker, I missed you. So much. But how're you here? You were gone, you di–"

"We didn't want you to be alone," Eddie, Lord of Night, responded thickly, leaning into the hand and covering it with his own.  "We wanted to thank you for taking care of us all these years."

"Don’t,” Wayne wheezed, teary. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Eddie. You deserved so much more than your pa or me ever gave you."

"No! No, Uncle Wayne, don't apologize," he said earnestly. "You were perfect. You gave us a home when pa died. We were so little and you protected us. You loved us. That's all we ever wanted."

“Oh, Eddie,” Wayne said in a heartbroken rasp. “That damn door’s been knocking all day. Who'll take care of you when I'm gone, Eddie?" 

"Don't you worry about that, Uncle Wayne. Steve's gonna look after me.”

“Are you sure?”

The Lord of Night took off his hood and turned back to look at Steve for the first time since he sat himself at Wayne’s side. All the air left Steve’s lungs in one fell swoop. His god had a face.

His god was beautiful.

The Lord of Night’s skin remained pale, providing a stark contrast to his large, dark brown eyes glittered with bittersweet joy and sorrow. His lips, full and a soft shade of pink, were pulled into a wide, mischievous grin that dimpled his cheeks. His dark eyebrows were almost hidden under wild curls. His hair draped over the slope of his shoulders and matched his eyes wonderfully.

Steve willed himself to stay steadfast and strong under the god’s gaze. The Lord of Night’s grin twisted a bit as if he wasn't entirely pleased by what he saw. The nausea from before came back because Steve knew what people looked like when he'd disappointed them. As usual, he had no idea what he'd done wrong.

“Yeah, I’m sure. He already promised,” Eddie, the Lord of Night, said. He turned back to Wayne and gently wiped the sweat off the old man's brow. 

“Good,” Wayne said with a. “You need someone takin’ care of you, the way you get in trouble all the time.”

“We weren’t that bad,” Eddie said with a watery smile. After a pause, Eddie continued reluctantly. “Uncle Wayne, if you need to answer the Door, you can. I won’t be alone.”

“Yeah,” Wayne murmured. “I’m tired, Eddie.”

“You won’t be for long, I promise, just answer the Door.”

Wayne’s breathing slowed. His eyes drooped closed. Eddie clung to his hand until it went lax. A choked sound escaped him when Wayne’s breathing stopped. Steve instinctively stepped forward to comfort him but Eddie abruptly stood up, sending the chair clattering to the floor. He whirled around and stumbled towards the empty space Steve left behind. 

“You better take care of him. Wayne is a good man, he’s earned–” Eddie said to…the wall? But stopped and reeled back. His mouth curved down in a scowl. Eddie’s eyes were dark and glowering as he stared at something there that Steve himself could not see.

“Oh, fuck you, I know I can’t do anything to you but–”

Eddie stopped again. He looked like he wanted to punch something. Or someone?

“I just want to know that he’ll be happy and saf–hey, asshole, I’m still talking you, don’t you dare– FUCK,” Eddie shouted at nothing. He panted in anger. Steve cleared his throat.

“My Lord?”

“I forgot how much of a dick he is. It’s not like I was asking for details! I don’t fucking care what’s past his stupid Door. It’s not a crime to want your family to, like, go somewhere good after. He could’ve just said yes or no!” Eddie ranted.

“My Lord, I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Oh,” Eddie paused. “Right. You wouldn’t. And you shouldn’t. Not yet. Not for a long time, hopefully.”

------

*starmaker - so this is a reference to some lore i dropped in the previous scene during some edits I made after I had posted it on tumblr. basically, the legend explains why bedtime stories are a thing and that the lord of night creates a star for every story that impresses him. a really good book or author will get called a starmaker, though to the general population it's just a thing people say to denote greatness in stories without context of where the saying came from.

------

and now we're all caught up with what i've written so far, wow! but don't worry, i still have plenty more to write, stay tuned.

[hyah-through-hyrule]

Why the fuck are there even terfs in the loz and loz au fandoms, Link has one of the most trans swag energies of all time, get out of here and go back to the Harry Potter fandom.

[kingsleywrites]

How They Would React To Seeing Your Top-Surgery Scars

Characters: Tommyinit (Platonic), Tubbo (Platonic), Wilbur (geared towards romantic), Dream (geared towards romantic), Technoblade (Platonic or Romantic)

Fluff

A/N: For whatever reason my mind has only been giving me angst ideas like I like angst but I need some fluff 💀🤚

Y/N will be used (Meaning your name)

CW: swearing

This can be for anyone who has gotten top surgery and needs comfort about their scars (your beautiful no matter what <;3)

Tommy:

When he first sees your scars it doesn't really register in his mind that they are your top surgery scars

He just thinks that they are just scars that you've gotten in one of the countless battles

He definitely thinks they're super cool and asks you a bunch of questions about them.

"Hey Y/N- Woah! Where did you get those scars! These are cool as fuck!"

He would try and start guessing where you got them.

"Did you get them while in the nether? Was there a Piglin that tried to fight you and then they cut you with their tusks? Oh! Did you duel with Dream? or Techno? Did you kick their asses?"

You'd probably have to calm him down and explain to him that you didn't get into a fight and you just got them from top surgery

He would be very understanding of your situation, though he would apologize for jumping to conclusions.

He immediately wants to know if you have other scars and what the stories behind them are.

If you have more and decide to show them to him, he would listen very intently to the stories, and he finds the battles that you've been through (even if they aren't that big) very interesting.

If you have no other scars or you don't want to show him your other scars he is perfectly okay with that, even offering to show you his scars to make you feel better, telling you how he got each of them in a way that makes it interesting to listen too.

"And this one I got from when me and Tubbo were sparring, he felt so bad that he was apologizing for what felt like hours!"

If he ever felt that you were uncomfortable about the topic he would ask if you wanted to change it to make you feel more comfortable.

Overall he just wants to make you feel happy by saying "Hey, it's normal to have scars, and yours are just as valid as any others."

Tubbo:

When he first saw your scars he was really concerned and started panicking asking you a whole bunch of questions

"Y/N, do you wanna- Oh my god! Are you okay? Where did you get these from? Did someone hurt you? You can tell me but I swear if it was Sapnap or something me and Tommy will literally kick his ass!"

After calming him down and explaining to him that no one hurt you and these scars are from your top surgery

He would apologize for jumping to conclusions but he would be a little confused at first, I don't think that he would know a ton about the LGBT community so he would need a little clarification.

"Uh, I'm sorry if i'm overstepping your boundaries and you don't have to answer this if you're uncomfortable but, could you explain to me what top surgery is?"

After knowing exactly what top surgery is he would immediately ask if there's any way that he can help.

Want to try and fade the scars? Words of affirmation about how having these scars make you human or how your struggles are just as valid as anyone else's? Or even if you just want a hug, he'll find some kind of way that he can help you feel comfortable.

Tubbo really just wants you to feel comfortable in your own skin even if he is a little new to the whole LGBT community and how to help.

Wilbur:

Wilbur doesn't bring up your scars unless you come and talk to him about it first.

He starts to check up on you more and more.

"Hey Y/N, how are you doing? Everything is alright right?"

Just little check ups until you're ready to tell him about it.

If he ends up seeing your scars more than once he might bring it up at that point.

"Hey, um, what are those scars on your chest, if you don't mind me asking?"

Once you tell him that they're your top surgery scars he pulls you into a hug and assures you that he will always love and care about you no matter what.

Basically he will just praise the hell out of you, tell you how amazing you are, how brave you are for going through the surgery, how pretty and handsome and beautiful and cute you are.

Every time he walks by you he will just give you a kiss on the head as reassurance

He never wants you to feel like you are a burden

He will go to Fundy for advice on how to help and if there is anything that he should do to comfort you further.

Just a sweet guy who wants you to feel loved and appreciated.

Dream:

First thought is that someone hurt you and he wants to know who so he can kill the fucker

"Hey Y/N- what happened? No, No it isn't nothing, what happened. It matters because who every hurt you will have about five seconds to count their fucking blessings before I kill them."

You being you might respond with something snarky like "hey the doctor who gave me top surgery shouldn't die, I'm living my best life because of them!"

To which he responds with a mental facepalm and he gives you a hug

He just wants to protect you and sometimes takes it too far

Your chest becomes his new favorite part about you

Every time he gets the chance he will give you a kiss to remind you how much he cares

Cuddling where his head is buried in your chest? Expect him to be kissing your chest till one of y'all falls asleep.

"What? Can I not kiss my beautiful lover and give them all of the love they deserve?"

Technoblade:

Like Wilbur, Techno won't bring your scars up unless you make conversation about it

The difference is, He won't bring it up no matter how many times he sees your scars

I feel like with how many battles Techno had been in he has his own collection of scars some of which he would like to fade away and to never be talked about or brought into existence again.

So he won't talk till you want to talk

Once you do tell him he would say something like:

"Oh that's what those are? Yeah I've seen them before."

When questioning why he didn't say anything he would say something along the lines of:

"We all have our own scars, some you can see, some you can't, some you're fine with the world seeing and some you wish that they would disappear because they remind you of something that you want to block out and forget entirely. I've had my fair share of scars that should fade away just like those painful memories. I would hate to bring you back to a place that you wanted to forget."

As for comfort, he isn't too big on it, not because he doesn't want to give it to you but because he doesn't know how, maybe the occasional word or words of affirmation or hugs when you need them, but anything else and he would need Phil's help on what to do.

He is a great listener though, so if you ever need to vent he'll be the guy to go to.

Techno is just a piglin with a soft heart for you and he would hate to make you uncomfortable.

*****

Another one done! My apologies if this isn't the best I have never done headcanons before so this was new to me. I also tried to keep it gender neutral as I know not only trans males get top surgery so I wanted to make it as inclusive as possible so I'm sorry if things are too geared towards trans males.

Word Count: 1255

[somethingintheforest]

Watson would give Holmes top surgery, i think

[beaft]

contacted the GIC yesterday to see where i'm at on the waiting list and was informed it would be approximately another four (4) years before my first appointment with a specialist. i initially got referred way back in 2020, so that's an eight year wait in total - and it'll be another year, possibly two, before i can get any kind of gender-affirming treatment or surgery on the NHS, so let's make it a round decade to be on the safe side. now tell me why every other month some trash newspaper publishes the same fucking scare-mongering article about how gender clinics are dangerous because they're "rushing" people into transitioning "before they're ready"

[orcaking]

Beach Combing

[Image ID: A digital illustration featuring a trans masculine person, torso up. The figure is shown from the hips up, facing left with his eyes closed softly. He has shoulder length black hair, and is shirtless with visible top surgery scars. Around him, are illustrations of green and blue fish, sand dollars, rocks, and seaweed. There is a string of pearls weaving around the figure, and white stars surrounding him. The background is a plain dark gray. /.End ID]

[genderqueerdykes]

getting sex reassignment surgeries willingly is not gross. getting top surgery is not gross. having breasts removed is not gross. having breast enlargement surgeries is not gross. getting bottom surgery is not gross. bodies with phalloplasties are not gross. bodies with metoidioplasties are not gross. bodies with orchiectomies are not gross. bodies with vaginoplasties are not gross. bodies with hysterectomies are not gross. bodies with penectomies are not gross. post-op top surgery chests are not gross. post-op bottom surgery genitals are not gross.

we need to do people who have gotten surgeries better. trans bodies are beautiful and people deserve to be the happiest they can in their own bodies. trans bodies are not gross. you will encounter people who have gotten surgeries and you'll never be any the wiser. trans bodies are beautiful.

[dkettchen]

Watch Nimona, guys.

Watch Nimona and then go buy the comic and also read Nimona, cause as nicely streamlined as the movie is they did change the style quite drastically (proportions and stuff, I’m not on abt the 3D-ness or the adjustments to make characters visually fit their cast better) and Nate’s original art is GOOD, and they left out some things I really liked in the comic (where was big buff guy nimona you monsters ToT) and comic has slower pacing that lets you have some more time w the characters, yada yada

NIMONA GOOD, CONSUME NIMONA IN ALL ITS MEDIA FORMATS

[2hoothoots]

i was having a chuckle to myself last night about Gristol, and how his plans are basically:

Restore Ford Cruller's memory

Find Maligula

???

Profit

but then... of course they are, right? this is Gristol we're talking about. Fatherland Follies drives home again and again that he's still operating on a child's logic, a warped and reductive version of the world that he never bothered to grow out of. both of his memory vaults center on the images of his childhood, this idealized version of the past that he clings to no matter what. and that's still how he remembers Maligula, too - as this saviour figure, who rushes in to help him when he's in trouble.

[ID: Two slides from Gristol's memory vault, Glory to Grulovia! Left: Gristol clings to Maligula's back as she summons waves to sweep away his assailants. Right: Gristol and Maligula waving from a balcony as the people cheer. Gzar Theodore brandishes a dagger in the background.]

like so much else, Maligula represents a return to this idyllic childhood - to the peace and simplicity of his youth, when he was free from worries and responsibilities. in his mind, he doesn't need to make any further plans - once Maligula's back, everything will go back to normal. Maligula will make everything better.

...is what i thought, but then i remembered this line:

[Screenshot source. ID: Gristol, in Truman's body, bows on his hands and knees in front of the newly-awaked Maligula. The caption reads: "Yes, High Priestess! I am here to correct the mistakes made by my father!"]

and that's kind of interesting, right?

to be clear: this happens directly after Maligula sees Helmut-in-Gristol's-body, and recognises him. her line before this is:

"Little Gzesaravich! Have you come to pay for your father's sins?"

my first thought was that Gristol hadn't expected to still be in Truman's body by the time he managed to find Maligula, and this was him trying to placate her and buy some time until he could explain the situation. but watching the cutscene back, that's clearly not what's happening here. Gristol is answering as himself, and his response of throwing himself to his knees before her is, as far as i can tell, genuine.

so what is going on here?

in Fatherland Follies, there's this line in the ride narration that stuck out to me:

"Why didn't the Gzar help Maligula in her time of need? No one knows, but historians agree - it is Gzar Theodore's biggest failure."

other lines mention Gzar Theodore's "mistake", and it's wording Gristol himself echoes in the screencap above. evidently, he believes that his father abandoned Maligula, leaving her to her fate at the hands of the Psychonauts, and it was that mistake that lead to them being driven out of the country - that mistake which he seeks to correct. maybe he even feels like he has a debt to repay to her for his family turning their backs on her all those years ago.

the 'High Priestess' thing, though - that's kinda weird, and threw me for a loop the first time i played the game. it took me until my second playthrough to connect the dots, and remember how the room in the Lady Luctopus - Gristol's room - was full of Delugionist scribblings and symbols.

[Screenshot source. ID: left, the walls of the hidden backroom in Gristol's hotel suite, covered in scrawlings of eyeballs and Maligula's name. Right, the pinboard from the hidden backroom. On its surface are photographs and newspaper clippings connected by pieces of string.]

i mean, look at this stuff! he had a whole conspiracy board and everything!

we learn very little about the Delugionists and their beliefs as a whole during the game, but i think drawing the connection here suggests two important things. one: that Gristol was in deep with this stuff. i don't know how he linked up with them - maybe via old family connections, or just good old-fashioned digging (we know he's skilled at worming his way into peoples' good graces, after all) - but it seems likely that he's begun to internalise their ideas, maybe even warping his own memories of events. and two: the Delugionists themselves are, if you'll pardon the pun, pretty far off the deep end.

like... i understand why PN2 didn't go heavy on the "mass-murderer cult worship" aspect of things, in the end, but man this is such a tantalising glimpse into the wider mythos around Maligula. Gristol is proud and haughty and thinks himself above everyone else; the fact that his first reaction seeing Maligula is to throw himself to the ground at her feet says so much about the way he's come to see her. he's not just trying to bring back Maligula, his childhood bodyguard. he's trying to bring back Maligula, the High Priestess of the deluge, the semi-mythical figure whose supporters believe even death couldn't stop. he doesn't even flinch at the way she confronts him, and maybe it's because he's bought in so completely to this deified figurehead, this idea of Maligula; more a living force of nature than a person. and it all comes back to the same place: an abdication of responsibility, not just to the person who protected him when he was little but to this avatar of floods and destruction. Maligula will make everything better.

i'd write more about my thoughts on the Delugionists but that'd be taking a hard turn into speculation, and this is already kind of long and rambling so i'd better end it here. but what an unexpected and evocative line, right? it's some of the only stuff we have to go off of regarding the Delugionists as a whole, but i think it does such a good job of hinting at the wider story - at teasing another layer to the mythos surrounding Maligula, one whose ripples we see throughout the game but which never quite breaches the surface.

[lazywriter-artist]

Unconventional Company

Warhammer/Helldivers/Halo crossover + writing warmup

Slowly Night clutched its wispy black tendrils around the planet and travel became difficult, forcing the Trio of trained soldiers to set up camp for the night. Seated around the fire the Space Marine would reach back into his satchel, digging out a large book as he leaned back some.

His voice, cutting through the settling air, rumbled the question “So pray tell guardsman, have you all finished your prayers? I hadn’t seen even a single one before battle…” He questioned, strangely nonchalant for how confused the other two were left. The other armored figures glanced to each other with small shrugs.

“prayers?” The spartan echoed, he had heard of a variety of religions back home and on various planets but with the mystery shrouding this giant already he really hadn’t taken the ‘marine’ to be much of a religious man. The Helldiver didn’t seem to be a fan of this topic however as he crossed his arms, leaning back with an aura of disapproval. He didn’t really trust this brick wall much already. Was too big of a guy. Never took off his armor…maybe he was an automaton. These prayers sounded very UN-democratic. Hmph.

Though their confusion deepened as the marine looked appalled, gently digging out an almost rosary like item with a large double headed eagle attached “ahah…yes?— your prayers to the God Emperor?” He pressed, the duo again glancing to one another.

“Doesn’t sound very democratic-“ growled the Helldiver as the marine gave off a sudden menacing aura. The spartan swiftly clapped the back of the helldiver’s helmet with his armored hand, clearing his throat to try and recover the situation, “Right! Right!! our prayers! How could we forget!?” He’d swiftly nod with growing anxiety as the Helldiver grumbled in complaint over being hit. The spartan wasn’t about to be ripped in two by this muscle man freak in super armor because the quack Helldivers like this one couldn’t see the writing on the wall.

“How indeed.” Snorted the armor clad wall of a man before allowing his original aggression, hesitantly, to fall away. “But it is only natural when fighting for the God Emperor.” He nodded matter of factly.

“For Liberty ya mean.” grumbled the Helldiver, receiving another smack to the helmet as the spartan cleared his throat once more “RIGHT! Yes! Perhaps you should lead us through one? We are a bit rusty—“

He gulped, worried of the marines reaction, hoping this would smooth it over. Even still he braced for the worst until— the marine seemed to light up? “Of course! I always am ready to show guardsmen new prayers for our God Emperor!” His deep voice bellowed as he would readjust to be closer to the two.

Despite the Helldiver disliking the idea the spartan forced ‘convinced’ him to go along with it, if only to just please this ‘Space Marine’ into not crushing them under his boot— and he had to admit, it was kind of endearing the joy the marine displayed as he traced over the strange words within his book, explaining these ‘prayers’ he picked out for them and how to say them.

…Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad?

Lovely dividers by @squishyowl (Imperial) and myself :) (Helldiver)

Yapping below the cut

Oh BROTHER this one took a lot. Idk y but hey it happens (mostly due to my inability to stay on a project for too long—) but anyhow

This bad boy had say in my inbox for a WHILE and in my notes even longer….i think I ported it over to tumblr around the time I made the original au post, meanwhile it’s been written since about I first made the au, so woof a while ago

This bad boy took a few months on and off again to complete just due to my spelling and grammatical errors and the whole not working 100% of the time on it X.X

But here it is!!! Idk if it was obvious but the crossover is a really fun idea to me and I definitely wanna do more with if- so we shall see 🥰

I’m just a big huge sucker for sci-fi stuff especially sci-fi battle stuff and these three being big poster children for that idk how I couldn’t

Anywho- thank you all for reading and u all are so cool and thanks to my moots who proof read it for me 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶✨✨✨💪💪💪💪

Everyone have a good day 🫶

[were-wolverine]

soulmate au where the other person’s scars appear on you and one of them gets top surgery