#i was meant to bring up hrt at the doctors a few months ago as a secondary thing at an appointment but i didnt | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

littleoddwriter · 3 years

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t4t zsaszmask?

You're Just Like Me | Roman Sionis x Victor Zsasz | ZsaszMask

Hope you enjoy! :)

summary; Roman reminisces about a past moment between them, while they lie in bed.

notes; Mention of Sex; Talk about Surgery; Mild Anxiety due to Paranois and Implied Medical Traumas; Blood; Scars; Self-Harm (canon-typical); Trans!Roman Sionis; Trans!Victor Zsasz; HRT; Top Surgery; Surgical Scars; Binding; Coming Out; Accidentally walking in on someone (not sexually); Established Relationship; Domestic; Kissing; Admiring one's body (specifically scars).

They were lying in bed, after just having had a post-coital shower. Roman lay on his side, his head rested on Victor’s upper arm as he was on his back, their legs tangled. His right hand gently stroked over the twin surgical scars on Zsasz’s chest, marvelling at them. They were still fairly new, only six months, and Roman just couldn’t keep his eyes and hands away from them, much like any other scar on Victor’s body.

It wasn’t only that he admired them, but that he desired them. Because in a way, he was jealous as he still hasn’t gotten surgery.

Obviously, he could get it very easily; he was the one who paid for Victor’s after all. He just had a few more emotional and mental hurdles to overcome before he could will himself to let a doctor get to work on him. It was fine, though. His chest wasn’t too conspicuous, especially not when he was wearing a binder, which was ninety-percent of the time, except for right now, while he was lying there with Zsasz and no one else would be able to see him.

When the two of them had met a couple of years ago, there had been an instant connection as it was – they found that they were very similar to each other. And at first that had meant their sadistically violent, cruel streak and disdain for humankind. Later, they had found that apparently it went deeper than that, when they realised that they both sat in the same boat.

They were both transgender men.

Sure, Roman had kind of guessed that Victor was most likely trans as well, because he very much recognised the signs from himself in his partner in crime.

The fact that Zsasz hadn’t even been on HRT at that time – whereas Roman has been on it for two years already then – gave him away to him, too. He never bothered to bring it up, though. It wasn’t his business and if Victor wanted him to know, he’d tell him – that was how he went about it himself, after all. Roman usually didn’t tell anyone that he was transgender. Why should he? It wasn’t something people needed to know, unless he was to have sex with them, and then it was only so they wouldn’t be too surprised upon his lack of typically male genitals.

In the end, Roman guessed that he should have probably given Victor a couple of hints that he was more similar to him than he’d thought. That way they might have been able to prevent the situation that had ensued when Sionis found out about Zsasz for good, purely by accident of course.

It was after a kill.

Victor had gone into the bathroom to mark himself up and Roman had genuinely thought he had been done already, because he couldn’t hear anything from inside, and at that time it was the only working bathroom. So Sionis had just opened the door without thinking and thus found Victor still standing in the middle of it. He had still been shirtless, blood on his fingers and running down his chest, which had been two small mounds at that time. Zsasz had turned around the second the door had opened and was on Roman all too fucking quickly, knife pressed against his throat.

“Fucking lock the door next time!” Roman had yelled and felt Victor press the tip of his still bloody knife into his throat, quieting him for once in his life.

“If you even think of telling anybody, you’re a dead fucking man,” Zsasz had rasped in his ear – and really, Roman hated the way it had turned him on.

“I won’t. Don’t worry about it,” he had answered truthfully, voice strained from trying not to move his throat too much, lest the blade might have drawn some blood.

Zsasz had lingered a few moments and just looked at Sionis through the mirror opposite them. Then he had finally let go of him and put his shirt on very quickly, after he’d carelessly stuck a band-aid on the fresh cut, and had left the bathroom.

Roman had come back out few minutes later, and found Zsasz sitting on his usual seat at the dining table. His leg had been bouncing and he had been playing with his knife, hunched over like always. He had been nervous.

“You really don’t need to worry about this, Mr. Zsasz,” Roman had said, coming to a stop on his partner’s right.

Victor had nodded, “Good. I’m not worried.”

But he still wouldn’t even look at him.

Heaving a deep sigh, Sionis had relented, despite his paranoia nagging at the back of his mind not to do it, “I’m like you, Victor. And it’d be really fucking hypocritical of me if I used this against you in any way. I may be cruel, but not that cruel. ‘Kay?”

That had gotten Zsasz to finally look back up at him, his mouth slack, wonder in his eyes, “Yeah, okay. Thank you, boss.”

It had been a ridiculous situation that they could have easily avoided, but it had worked out well for either of them after all.

“What are you thinking about?” Victor asked, tilting his head to make eye contact with him, rudely ripping Roman out of his reminiscence of that particular moment in their lives.

“About how we found out about each other,” Roman confessed with a small smile on his lip.

“I think about it a lot, too.”

“Because you got to know what it’d feel like to have your knife against my throat?” A knowing smirk graced Roman’s features when his assumption was proven right as Victor nodded, licking his lips.

“Why did you think about it?” Zsasz asked back.

Roman shrugged, lightly scratching his nail over the pink surgical scars, “Not sure.”

They were quiet again for a little while, content with their breathing being the only sounds in the otherwise silent room. Sometimes, Roman would move his hand and stroke over some of the tally marks on Victor’s pectorals and stomach, revelling in the knowledge of why each of them was there. His fingers would always find their way back to the surgical ones, though, no matter what.

Frustration built up inside him. He wished he wasn’t so concerned about doctors abusing their power over his unconscious body, or that his skin wouldn’t look perfect for a few years, until the scars were barely visible at all anymore.

“You know I hate doctors and don’t trust them either. But I came out alright. I’m sure if I sat in the OR with you, while they’d work on you, it should be fine. That way I could make sure they aren’t messing you up. Right?” Zsasz murmured, laying his hand on top of Roman’s and stopping his movements.

Roman tensed up for a moment, anger twisting his features, and he breathed in and out deeply a couple of times. “I don’t know. It’s a nice idea, but I don’t know if that would help. What if the scars won’t heal as well as I’ve seen on others? What if they do mess up and you don’t notice it early enough?”

“I doubt that’d happen. You take care of your skin like no one else does. The scars wouldn’t ever stand a chance, boss. And I promise you, I’ll notice everything. The doctors won’t be able to mess you up when I’m there.”

“You’re just saying that.”

Zsasz only looked at him in answer and Roman relented, heaving another deep sigh.

“’Kay, I’ll make an appointment with the same surgeon you’ve had then.”

Victor grinned and planted a kiss on Roman’s temple and then on his lips, too.

“I’m proud of you,” he murmured against Sionis’ lips.

Roman rolled his eyes, but smiled into the next few kisses, his heart swelling as he felt warm on the inside.

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selfish-thunder · 5 years

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+ I've considered transitioning before, but I always let the thoughts of 'oh, what will ____ think of this?' get to me but now, my urge is growing stronger and I'm tired of looking in the mirror and seeing a girl. / So, I guess my question is, how does one fully decide to start T? And although I'm uncomfortable with how I am now, should I just wait post-graduation to begin identifying and begin transitioning, as doing so now will be denied and cause more problems than I already have?

Hi!!! Oh goodness, I feel honored you feel safe reaching out to me. I assume the other anon was from you, too, but I’ll put my reply to this one.

I hope I do good by you, and I'm sorry it's taken me a while to answer. I'll reblog this a few times in hopes you see it.

First of all, I want you to know that I completely support and love you. And yes, will support and love you no matter what you decide for yourself. You can completely be whatever gender you ARE without any physical transitioning whatsoever, point blank. For whatever reason. Transitioning and identifying as something aren't mutually exclusive. I'm sorry you aren't in a position where you can just go ahead and do what will make you the most comfortable, and your concerns are valid. They directly affect your quality of life, so it is definitely a big decision.

So, I guess my advice is...

First of all, people may surprise you. (You can also be a little sneaky in how you come out to people, even though it's probably cheating lol. When I came out to my mother, I opened with "You told me you love me unconditionally. Is that still true", basically letting her know I was about to put that claim to the test. At the end of the day, she doesn't understand, is confused, but will stand by me.)

And I totally understand how thinking "what will x think" can hold you back.So, I'll tell you something a friend told me once that was extremely helpful for me. Don't think of it as "coming out", but rather you inviting someone into your story. Being trans is especially difficult if you decide to transition because there is a period of time where you don't have the option of "being out" because one look, and people can guess. And that time is from starting hormones until about a year or two later, so again, your concerns are valid. Regardless, just because people might make assumptions based on appearance, that doesn't mean you have to let them into your story. You don't have to tell anyone anything if you aren't comfortable with it.

My next bit of advice would be, find an adult (I'm assuming you’re a teenager, so my apologies if you meant school as in university) or a teacher who you trust. It may not be someone you've interacted with a lot, maybe just had for one class, but if you feel like this person is reasonably open-minded and accepting, you can go ahead and let them know there's something on there. Not the full story if you don’t want, but something.

I did that with my boss and a few of my coworkers so when going to HR, I already had support. If you decide to transition, you can then approach the school and offer a willingness to work with them, and you can show on the record that you were agreeable and reasonable (COYA, in case they're a bunch of dicks).

There's also a ton of resources.

For example, where I live, there's a thing called the "TransBuddy" program that is a bunch of volunteers willing to help, such as going to doctor's with you, helping with legal name changes and gender markers, schedule appointments and be an active voice explicitly to support you. Go incognito and see what's around your area. From my experience, a lot of people are willing to come to you if they're in a different town. Just please, please, please be safe. Ask for references.

If you do not feel comfortable or safe doing your own research for whatever reason, I am happy to try to help. (I’ll try to already put together something of national support and things anyway, maybe a lot of people can use it...)

As far as what to expect during your first few months...

For the first few months, expect your body to sweat a lot more (your scent will change too, and the sweatiness last a long time, tbh), you'll start to grow hair (EVERYWHERE I swear), your face will probably bloat some, and your voice will start to change a little (ie, start cracking when you talk, etc). You may find yourself happier and less anxious because you're finally starting HRT and finally getting to be the person you want, but t can effect emotion too, such as finding yourself more easily irritated or what have you. So if you notice a change in emotion reaction, just keep that in mind. And you'll grow your own Adam's apple (I don't know why people actually think they're implants?????)

After about six months, your emotions should even out. Your voice will continue to drop, most likely, and growing facial hair will be easier. Your face will also start to harden then (probably might bloat so more), becoming more masculine. After about a year, your Adam's apple will probably be prominent, facial hair common (even if it's not thick yet), and then is usually around the time people begin surgeries if that's what you want.

Keep in mind, your doctors will start you off on low dosage, and you'll work your way up. Also please keep in mind that, though you can stop hormones at any time, so effects will not reverse, such as growing facial hair and your voice.

Even if you stop t, those will remain how they are when you stop. Just something to keep in mind.

So yeah, it's a big decision, but I don't have to tell you that. I would look for an LGBT clinic, or at least an LGBT-friendly clinic, and get all the info from a licensed doctor before officially ruling one way or another.

Please, please, please note: If the doctor is making you uncomfortable, feel like they aren't listening to you, or obviously tries to sway you against it because of their own personal ideals or opinions, find a different doctor. Politely thank them for their opinion, and feel free to discard it. A doctor should put your health and your mental health first, and dysphoria is a real, legit, big, and sometimes dangerous thing.

Which brings me to my last bit.

There are lots you can do to feel more comfortable in your body other than transition or doing HRT. Binders and packers (my packer is awesome, I love it so f’ing much) help me as well as just wearing men's clothes. Having a support group helps tremendously too. Also, having a gender-neutral presentation may help too. For me personally, I shrugged off the expected feminine appearance years ago. I unintentionally got people used to seeing me without makeup, wearing big boots and flannel. Them finding out that I'm now on t caused most of them to be like, "Huh, yeah. I can see that."

So, if you only a little bit longer to go before you are able to graduate, move to a more supportive place, and politely start to break away from those who would deny you or make you feel unwelcome just because you dare to be who you are, then that could be a game plan of sorts. It was for me, at least, at work.

I mean, this is your LIFE. This is who YOU are. Be honest with yourself, yes, but there's nothing saying you can't be clever about it. Right now, it's the summer, so you can some time to play with your appearance and how you present yourself before you have to go back, if that’s something you want to do.

The most important thing is you do what is best for you, for your health, both physical and mental, and when it comes down to it, you don't have to invite anyone into your story. I can't advise you as to what decision you should make because that's yours to make. Again, though, whatever you decide, you have my complete and utter support.

And for what it's worth, to this blog, you are a man with he/him pronouns for however long you want. I have yet to meet a trans person who at any point thought their journey was going to be easy, but it definitely doesn't have to be lonely or unnecessarily hard. You are allowed to ask for what you need, to ask for help, and to tell any adult - any person - that they make you feel unsafe and you request to deal with someone else. Please be safe, make sure you map your exits, but don't be afraid to stand up for you.

If you need anything, feel free to reach out. You can DM me, too, and I promise to keep anything we talk about confidential and offer you a safe, nonjudgmental space.

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selfiecharmedlife · 5 years

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RE: My Gender Support Dog

Just barely over a year ago, my then fiancé called me to say that she was no longer attracted to me. She also said something about how that was somehow a good thing because it meant I was looking more feminine (cool I guess). I thought about writing a retrospective on the year since she left, but I think it’s way more interesting to write about one of the many things she left with me, my dog Hazel.

I didn’t ask for Hazel. During the last year of your relationship, my ex and I were long distance while she completed a post-doc and I finished my dissertation. During that time, I had her cats and she got lonely. We had vaguely talked about adopting a retired racing greyhound after we would move in together. One day and I got a phone call that she was driving out into rural North Carolina to look at greyhounds. No one, absolutely no one, drives out to rural North Carolina just to look at dogs. I was already set to visit the next weekend and she took me to meet Hazel. Hazel was dramatically underweight, shy and would later be described by a vet as “riddled with hookworms.” I fell in love with this weird noodle right then and there.

Unfortunately, bringing a child into a dying relationship rarely works out. My ex would tell me how she didn’t think Hazel loved her and wouldn’t cuddle with her. She refused to be crated and would vomit and poop from the stress. She refused to be trained and was stubborn to a fault. When my ex ultimately dumped me, someone had to take the dog. Hazel wasn’t cat-safe and my ex wanted her cats back. Hazel was either going to live with me or she was going back to the rescue. I was out of a job after graduating with my Ph.D and struggling on the job market as a non-passing trans woman barely into HRT. Hazel did come home with me after I realized I loved her too much to send her away. At the time, my ex had accepted a job in Washington DC and offered to help offset the costs of taking care of her until I found a job. That never materialized.

The months that followed were incredibly difficult for me. My savings started to dry up and the few interviews I would get would fizzle out quickly. In one case, the interviewer started off using she/her pronouns and ended up switching to he/him before the end of the call. I was too afraid to correct them and sat down and cried afterward. I didn’t get the job. The emotional shock of being suddenly dumped by the woman that had asked me to marry her also impacted my body. Whatever gains I made on HRT were lost as the stress of life effectively re-masculinized my body. I started losing my hair again, my face become more angular and my doctor couldn’t figure out why my medications stopped working. Even my hormone panels reverted to where they were pre-HRT.

There were days I wouldn’t have gotten out of bed if I hadn’t had to get up to walk Hazel. There were days I wouldn’t have talked to another person if I hadn’t let her run at the dog park. There were days I wouldn’t have bought food for myself if I didn’t go to the store to buy her treats. When I would get an interview, I would take her to my favorite place in Gainesville, Steamers. I would get a cheap beer and fried rice and she would get a puppy bowl. We would sit on the deck on and watch people do acro-yoga in the sticky Florida summer. Little by little, she started to open up and we learned how to understand each other. I have little doubt that I might have killed myself during this period of my life it wasn’t for her being there.

(she loved the puppy bowl)

Eventually I did get a job in the DC area and it was time to pack up and move. Finding housing in DC for a 60-pound greyhound was hard and the place that eventually did lease to me forgot to mention that there was a weight limit on dogs (ope). Asked to choose between daily fines and keeping my dog, there was no way I was going to give her up. She’s my dog after all. I spent my lunch breaks calling tenant lawyers, got every cent of my money back and moved to a new apartment where my landlord was far my accommodating.

I did see my ex one last time after I moved to DC. After dumping me, she had talked about how much she wanted to “be like sisters” and that I was going to still be a part of her family. After some small-talk, the woman that talked about sisterhood was suddenly very interested in boundaries and confessed she was only visiting to tell me that she was seeing someone new. Suffice to say, the woman that had asked me to marry her not even a year ago was no longer interested in me any way. She still favorites photos of Hazel when I post them on social media but has no interest in me or my life as far as I can tell. After she left that night, I sat on the couch wondering how I had gotten to this point and Hazel got up on the couch next to me to cuddle, the exact thing that made my ex so sure that Hazel didn’t love her. She had never done that before.

I didn’t ask for Hazel. I didn’t even name her, but I might not be alive right now if it wasn’t for her coming into my life (I’m crying a little while writing this). She cuddles on the couch with me almost daily, always greets me at the door no matter how hard my day has been and sleeps at the foot of my bed. As a young girl, I desperately wanted a dog to call my own. I used to sit in bed and dream about what my dog would look like once I was finally old enough to have my own home. I don’t think I ever imagined the weird noodle deer that lives with me now, but I also never would have thought that I could be living as a woman. If she could understand words, I’d tell her thank you. For now, I’ll just rub her belly.

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