#unsafe binding

[divine-draws]

forgotten falls comic that really has no plot significance. i was just an idiot today and wore my binder for 12 hours. do NOT do that guys fr

[freddesbokhylla]

What an incredibly transmasc book, really

[metalrabbitcosmos]

Marney!!

I forgot how to color so when I figure that out I’ll post more..

[arecaceae175]

for the pride month prompts:

trans sky.

he can't breathe? maybe he should take off his binder and stretch? has he got cramps? does he wanna sleep? the chain just supporting him. mentions of t4t groozelink?

twilight cheering him up and showing off top surgery scars???

HI HELLO I WENT BONKERS WITH THIS ONE

Summary: Twilight and Legend notice Sky struggling with his binder, then Sky grapples with jealousy. 2.2k words, angst and hurt/comfort.

I hope this is ok! It's a bit more angsty than I intended, but oh well. I fit quite a few of the prompts in here. And it also got way longer than intended, but that's a good thing lol.

Warnings for lots of dysphoria and discussion of unsafe binding practices.

Excerpt under the cut :D

"Sit," Legend commanded, then plopped onto the ground herself. Twilight followed, concern still clearly displayed on his face. Sky grimaced as he sat, his binder pinching one of the rolls in his skin. He kept his eyes on the trees so he wouldn't have to see the way his body settled. It was always worse sitting. He couldn't easily adjust the tight fabric of his binder underneath his layers of tunics and chainmail, so he wiggled until the pinching stopped.

"Everything okay?" Warriors asked.

"I'll holler if we need anything," Twilight said. Sky appreciated the lack of audience as he sniffled and wiped his nose on his sleeve.

"Ew," Legend mumbled. She pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and threw it at Sky. Sky caught it with a wet laugh and used it to wipe the snot and tears off his face, though they weren't quite finished yet.

His chest ached. Crying always made the pain worse.

"Can you tell us what's going on?" Twilight asked.

Sky turned his head away. There was a bug hopping across the forest floor. He followed it with his eyes as a hand absentmindedly rose to rub his ribs.

"Shit. When was the last time you took off your binder?" Legend asked.

"Oh," Twilight hummed in realization. "I knew you looked out of breath after the battle this morning." 

Sky choked on a sob. He knew he wasn't supposed to wear his bonder during exercise. With the speed Warriors was leading the group with, the hiking itself qualified, and he was already overworked and out of breath after the run-in with monsters. Sky had thought for a long time about whether or not to wear the binder when he got dressed that morning, but one look at his reflection in the clear lake water and his decision was made for him.

"I'm sorry," Sky mumbled. His head dipped forward, chin resting against his chest. He desperately wanted to curl into a ball, but the fabric of his binder was digging into his skin enough just sitting upright.

"Don't apologize," Twilight said softly. "It's okay."

"I don't even know why I'm crying," Sky said through his tears.

"Do you want to change out of your binder for a break?" Twilight asked.

Sky shook his head as another sob broke through. He winced and a hand flew to his ribs. They were already bruised, and the crying hurt.

"Twilight was trying to be nice about it, but you don’t actually have a choice. You need a break." Legend's voice was harsh, but not unkind.

Twilight leaned forward and put his hand right in front of Sky's leg, as close to physical comfort as he could get. "Bodies are bodies, nothing more. Yours has carried you this far, so it deserves a break, yeah?"

Sky sniffed and nodded, reluctantly. He knew he was well over the recommended wearing time, and that was not counting the exertion of the day. Plus, Sky admitted to himself, his binder was really hurting. "Yeah."

[withered--s0uls]

More Trans Varian stuff?? DEPRESSING ASS HC FOR PRISON TIME

Varian not being allowed to keep his self made binder in the dungeons, so he binds with bandages.

If we go with the common fic interpretation that Varian was mistreated by guards in prison, he specifically uses bandages intended for his injuries to bind instead.

Varian invented binders in Tangled-verse btw I don't make the rules.

[mjrtaurus]

Thinking about early 20s Dragon waking up after the marine hazing ritual and the wing related trauma going forward.

This probably going to be the first in a multi-part series.

He’s been sick more times in the past couple of hours than he’s been in the last couple of years. He’s confused and mortified because he’s at his home and not the barracks. His mother is here with him on the guest bathroom floor, holding back his hair while his stomach turns itself inside out.

She’s not saying anything.

It’s scaring him.

There’s a sizable gap in his memory, though he at least knows the reason for it. Small comforts. He remembers he and a couple of other recruits sitting down with a few petty officers over a few celebratory drinks. Friendly shit-talking, stories from home, how your recruiter tricked you into joining up… the usual stuff you did with a weekend pass from your commanding officer.

He- naturally- got a lot of attention. He was the recently named Hero of the Marines’ brat, after all. People either loved him or hated him, and it turned out a lot of people at that table fell under the latter.

It was introduced as a game. It sounded simple and easy enough, which was probably why he went into it without much convincing. A round of shots for the table. Recite the Marine’s Creed from beginning to end. Screw up, take a shot, start over. Rinse and repeat til you either got it right, or cleared the round.

He’d been stupid. He’d been so fucking stupid. He should have just walked away. He should have just taken the insults and left with his dignity in tact.

But no, the competitive bastard in him wanted to win.

And now he was here, no doubt the shame of the family.

He must have done something terrible while he was blackout drunk. Hurt somebody. Made a fool of himself. Something that would warrant the silence he was getting from his mother…

She only got that quiet when she was close to crying.

He’s busy washing the bile from his mouth when he catches sight of why in the bathroom mirror.

His wings…

From anchor point to end, the flight feathers were some combination of mangled, missing, or bloodied. Ragged cuts in the shafts of each made in a hurry, like he’d been struggling against it.

A fleeting piece of memory.

An ugly one.

An alleyway coming in and out of focus. Voices talking excitedly amongst themselves, some laughing. Rough, burning hot hands holding him down. Cold and flithy flagstones biting into him from beneath.

Snip. Snip. Snip up the back of his shirt, exposing bare skin and ruffled feathers to the cold night air.

More hands wrestling open his wings. One voice he can just barely recognize as belonging to one of the petty officers calling out for the others to keep him nice and still…

Snip. Snip. Snip…

He doesn’t have the same restraint that his mother does. He can’t keep himself from crying. He can’t keep himself from remembering. He can’t keep himself from knowing.

He molts most of the damaged feathers, but some have to be pulled. Most of them grow back, but never as they had been. Some of them don’t. They aren’t soft and sleek anymore. They’re all brittle and ragged, some of the shafts are coming in bare and ugly. He wants to rip them out, because maybe they’ll come in healthier next time… but he can’t. He can’t bear to be preened anymore. Can’t even do it himself. The slightest touch, no matter from who, no matter how trusted, no matter how beloved, makes him want to vomit.

He’s been robbed of the comfort it’s meant to be. He’s never getting it back.

He begs his father to talk to the Fleet Admiral. He and Sengoku are friends, right? They can do a little doctoring to Dragon’s records… make that little bracket checked and filled in with “Sky Islander” in his medical charts and ID disappear, right? Find him a doctor that could turn a blind eye whenever he needed a physical, right? Get him stationed somewhere else, where he’ll be a fresh face that nobody knows?

As much as he loathes the special treatment, he’s just doing what he must to survive, isn’t he? Even if it feels horrible? Even if it makes his mother cry?

He’s still binding his wings flat against his back with bandages when he goes rogue. He meets Iva and Kuma in Sorbet. The former makes a fair- but incorrect- assumption upon seeing the bandages peaking out from beneath his drabs. He respectfully asks that they not worry themself about it. Kuma doesn’t ask. It’s a secret only Dragon can share, if he so chooses.

His body eventually rats him out before he has the courage to, some years later.

Some time after the Ohara Incident, a mild cough makes the rounds on the nameless flagship of the fledgling Revolutionary army. It’s more an inconvenience than any danger, but it spreads like wildfire.

Dragon- even with his strong immune system- catches it, and with the restriction of the binding, he just can’t shake it.

He at least has the small mercy of being in his cabin when he eventually drops, and not out on the quarterdeck where everyone can see him. Iva’s shrieking when they find him does end up drawing a crowd, though.

He’s long made peace with that sort of thing happening by now.

He remembers lashing out when someone with a medic’s patch on their uniform started to cut the bandages away, but the fever dragged him down into oblivion before he could do any real damage.

The snip snip snip of the medic’s scissors followed him well into his nightmares.

Recovery took a while.

Deserters were considered the lowest of the low to the World Government. Even the cruelest of pirates were treated with less hostility than a turncoat, and that made him and everyone along for the ride a top priority. This meant proper medical care was hard to come by.

He led the from a sickbed for nearly two weeks before he was back up to snuff. His voice- however- never did fully recover.

Rough and ragged, just like his wings.

He didn’t bind them anymore. He couldn’t afford to. If an insecurity was going to jeopardize the cause, then he had to do away with it. The only problem with that, though, was that this “insecurity” was a very clear trauma response.

Healing that would need time and energy he just didn’t have to give right now…

[themarauderer]

hi so this is one of my one-shots that can be found on ao3 (same handle as mine here) and yeah this one is called Ribs Get Tired. (The title comes from the song Ribs by Lorde) and it’s about trans reg overbinding AGAIN. TW for gender dysphoria and reckless binding :) (I am trans so this is partially from my own experiences remember folks do NOT bind with ace bandages)

Regulus’ schedule was very hectic. The slug club, quidditch team, being the top student in his grade, dating someone in secret, hiding that secret from your brother, your brother finding out after you move in with said person. Regulus had a LOT on his hands ok? So if he sometimes forgot to take his bandages off it isn’t really his fault. If he passed out in the quidditch changing rooms because of it, it isn’t really his fault. If he doesn’t tell James about it that’s maybe a little bit of his fault but still! If him and James are making out in an abandoned classroom and James stops because he feels his bandages which means he’s worn them longer than he was supposed to, that’s James’ fault. If James lifts regulus’ sweater and sees the bruises around his ribcage and his jaw drops, that’s James’ fault. If regulus is getting scolded by his boyfriend right now, that might be a bit of his fault.

“Regulus! What is this?” James says exasperatedly. Regulus rolls his eyes and pulls his sweater back down, “I just forgot sunshine! Now can you please get your lips back on my neck?” He’s really tired of always being babied. He can take care of himself! “Regulus take them off now. How long have you had them on?!” James says worriedly starting to undo the bandages before Regulus grabs his wrist. “James don’t you fucking dare. I’ve had them on for a couple days so what?! It’s not like it was on purpose!” He says angrily. They both know that’s a lie. Regulus lets out a cough and groans. “Regulus. Take. It. Off. Do I need to ask barty how practices were?” James tells him sternly. He lets out a sigh, “God James can you not for a minute?! I’m literally going through something right now. And you don’t have to ask him I’ll tell you that I passed out in the changing rooms.” He looks down and is already bracing for the response that is coming. Living practically your whole life being told you’re an abomination and being literally tortured by your parents does that to you. It gets kinda frustrating honestly. Being scared of every scream, every loud noise. He waits for the impact but nothing comes. He looks up confused and sees tears in James’ eyes. “Potter are you crying?” He says incredulously. James pulls him quickly into a hug and says something he didn’t expect, “of course I am Reg you binded for so long you passed out in the changing rooms. Baby I need to take you to the hospital wing I’m sorry.” Regulus panics he tries to argue but it’s no choice by the time he has the strength to argue James is halfway there. “Jamie please you know Sirius AND madam pompfrey will never let me hear the end of this” he says with a whine which is surprising because Regulus Arcturus Black does NOT whine. “Regulus you promised me and you broke that promise. Now you’re facing the consequences. I’m sorry love.” He says walking into the hospital wing. Regulus sighs. He KNEW this would happen eventually but he didn’t think it’d be so soon. “Why what do we have here? Mr. Potter carrying in Mr. Black? James care to explain to me what happened dearie? I know this one well enough to know he’ll cover up the full story.” Madam Pomfrey says looking straight at regulus. What? He can’t help it that he was groomed all his life to maintain a good image. Regulus looks up at James with a pleading look and his heart drops when he shakes his head and mouths ‘sorry’. “He’s had his bandages on for a few days. According to Barty and Regulus himself, he passed out in the quidditch changing rooms yesterday.” James says worriedly. Regulus would feel bad for James if he didn’t just rat him out. “Regulus Arcturus Black! You are to stay here for the rest of the afternoon under strict observation and I’m taking your bandages away for a bit. You know better than this young man. I am extremely disappointed regulus. You want your procedure correct? Then act like it! And no quidditch for a week.” She says sternly. He lets out a gasp, “poppy no! Please don’t do that please! I need them I need my bandages!!” It’s not regulus’ fault if he overbinds. It’s not Regulus’ fault he was born in the wrong body. It’s not Regulus’ fault he has dysphoria. But fine it is Regulus’ fault if his ribs are tired.

[jeremiah225]

This is not what you expect and it's messed up wrong

[metalchairz]

Just looking.

I fucking typed up a whole thing, something that got things across well, I try to copy it, and it didn't fucking copy. Bullet point list instead:

Feeling dysphoric today, so I wrapped tensor bandage around my chest to neutralize it. I did not wear it, it's not safe too, I just wanted to look.

I don't want a chest and nipples, I am uncomfortable with them.

I can't wear anything on my chest, no bra, no binder, because of pain.

I came out a year ago to the world at large. Very few people are respecting or acknowledging that fact. Everyone uses "she" "her" "girl" "ma'am" "miss" "lady."

I want to exist. I have no courage or bravery to speak up or correct anyone.

My bone structure is far too slight to pass as anything but GIRL GIRL GIRL GIRLGIRL.

I do not want to take testosterone.

I speak in a very high voice.

I don't want to cut my hair short, but even if I did, all people would see is GIRL GIRL GIRL GIRL GIRL STUPID GIRL.

Why can't I exist as a nonbinary person, ae/aer, they/them, not a man, not a woman, not in between, just a person.

I can't bring myself to be brave and even mention dysphoria to my counselor, or my mom.

My doctor has no idea, not sure if she'd believe me when I say I've been this way for years.

I'm autistic, that makes me more open to criticism and attack.

[spider--hyphen--man]

Me, for years: "I prefer to prioritize my physical health over relieving dysphoria. I would never bind unsafely."

Me, now that my gc2b binder doesn't fit anymore and haven't been able to lose weight to make it fit again, wearing 3 sports bras to flatten as much as possible: "shut up."

[earlgraytay]

You really can't.

Listen. I used to think like you. I was young; I was stupid; I had a big chest and crippling dysphoria. I bought an Amazon binder at one point. I wore my binder for 9+ hours a day for months. I worked out in it. I slept in it on one occasion. I did all the things you're not supposed to do.

And I got top surgery, eventually! I was home free!

...But I am still dealing with the consequences of having bound unsafely all those years ago. I still get rib pain. My asthma got worse and has never recovered. I have trouble with physical activity, to the point where I can barely run for the bus.

...You will have to live in your body for the rest of your life. Don't be like me. Make good choices now, so that when you can afford the good binder- or top surgery- you'll be able to enjoy it.

Hey, PSA for younger/newer transmascs:

Tumblr has been showing targeted ads for "FTM binders" off Amazon. They look like this:

Do not buy these.

A binder is a piece of medical equipment. If you use one incorrectly, or use a poorly made one, you can really fuck up your ribs. This article from the Cleveland Clinic talks about how to bind safely.

A $14 binder is guaranteed not to be safe. There's a reason reputable companies charge more- sometimes a lot more. They have to carefully design binders so they don't crush your ribs or make you sick.

You know how everyone says Don't Bind With Duct Tape? Don't bind with Amazon binders.

[itsabird-itsaplane-nopejustabird]

DPxDC Prompt

I've had this idea for a while (since seeing that art of Johnny and Kitty robbing a bank so Danny can get Top Surgery lol) but I haven't even had the brain to work on my own fic recently (sorry about that btw) so I'm writing this instead

So the concept:

T4T Johnny and Kitty, who died in the 80s after running away together.

Johnny was the kid of some rich asshole automobile mogul from Bristol, and Kitty was one of the workers' kids from the Narrows. They become friends, fall in love, both realize they're trans around the same time and then decide to run. They know that being trans on top of tax bracket difference gives them almost no chance of making it. Johnny steals a bike and a fuck-ton of money from his parents, and Kitty's parent(s) helps them leave.

They're still toxic and spiteful as hell, but nothing the other does can change the fact that they know and understand each other better than anyone else could.

They travel around the country being menaces together for a while until they decide to settle down in a strange city called Amity Park. They figured it could handle a couple more anomalies. But before they can get there, they get into a bike wreck with their final thoughts being of each other and Johnny specifically cursing his bad luck in life.

The next thing they know, they're in the infinite realms being given the chance to stay together and the freedom to simply exist with no strings attached. (Other than each other cause I firmly believe that they're mutually the others' obsession)

About 20 years have passed, a portal to their old world is permanently open and this scrawny little ass kid ghost that they've never even heard of keeps stopping them from going through it.

It isn't until Johnny actually starts paying attention a few months into it that he notices that first, the little shit can actually fight, and second, HE WAS FIGHTING THEM WITH A BINDER ON. (Johnny also vaguely wonders why Danny looks so much like his old neighbor Brucie, but that's less important than the binder thing). Johnny lets out the universal ghost fight timeout signal and vaguely explains the situation to Danny, who seems confused about the noise he made and why it made him stop.

Johnny gets Kitty to spread the word that if the timeout isn't called off by the next morning, stay TF away until they get an all-clear.

That night, *after yelling at him a bit*, he starts teaching Danny how to reshape his ghost form to his preference and even his vocal cords.

From there, Johnny and Kitty sorta ghost adopt him as a sibling and then take him to Frostbite to make sure his T-shots are ecto compatible.

(I hope this was coherent it's 4am for me and I haven't slept lol)

[etruski]

Krem week day 2 — Euphoria / Expression

I wanted to capture the euphoria he might have experienced while secretly serving in the Tevinter army. Simultaneously, this could represent the true freedom of expression he may have felt among The Chargers for the first time.

This dialogue between Bull and Cole also comes to mind:

Cole: You and Krem say words that hurt, but they aren't real, The Iron Bull.

Iron Bull: Yes. We give each other grief. It's a soldier thing. Doesn't mean anything.

Cole: It means friendship. And that you're soldiers. Krem likes it, it makes him proud.

[someonehasgiventheratsapen]

Did a series of doodles of variations on "double black" and I'm posting this separately bcuz it's a comic.

Remember to bind safely, kids.

Lmk if this is confusing or anything it was kinda late when I came up with it and I'm not sure if the "dialogue" reads lol

[locked-in-my-heart]

"Guess who's gonna bind in ways that I've been warned not to!"