Like To Give A Trans Girl Boobs

the process of transitioning has a lot of ups and downs. you will experience massive highs of euphoria and crushing lows of dysphoria as you change things about yourself. you will hate and love your new hair many times, you will be scared and excited by what hormone replacement therapy brings, you will be worried about how much you've changed yourself and if you can recognize the new person you see as yourself. you may struggle to adapt, you may accept everything gracefully as it comes, you may do a little of both. either way, it's okay to be affected by transition. it's okay to have highs and lows. it's okay to both love and hate what you're experiencing. it's okay to struggle, if you do. transition is hard, but it's worth it for those who want it.

Humans are weird

Cause of death: Old age

Imaging if Aliens don't age past like 50 or they figured out how to stop ageing. Like do you ever wonder if ageing is a universal thing?

Alien: Friend Human, I am fascinated by this Mozart musician. You say he performs with a live orchestra, do you reckon when will be his next?

Human: What...oh sorry, he died about a hundred years ago. I can find some bands who plays his music, if you want?

Alien: died? Was he fatally injured or... murdered?

Human: oh, no! As far as I know he died of old age.

Alien:...old age. You mean to say Humans die after a long time?

Humans: um, yeah? I mean why do you think we say 'YOLO' all the time?

Alien: Then how old do human's normally...pass away?

Human: We live, give or take, 80 years.

Aliens: JUST 80?! BUT THAT'S SO YOUNG! AND YOU'RE ALL SO RECKLESS!!

Human: Hey man...you only live once

Drew a merman :) Their name is Markus, and they use They/them pronouns :)

Zorugg cares for all of you, regardless of gender, sexuality, ethnicity or color.

You are all her children

Toxic

Humans are toxic. Proceed with extreme caution.

.  .  .

Well, this entire mission was officially FUBAR.

Steve wasn’t sure why everything had fallen apart. This was his first mission as a civilian. It was supposed to be nice and simple. Go down planet side, be a body guard/pack mule, go back to the ship, boom, done.

But no.

Something had happened shortly after they arrived (Steve had no idea what, maybe a breach of social protocol?), and now they were in alien prison. There had been a scuffle, of course there was, he and James weren’t going down without a fight. It was their job to protect their crewmates, and at least they had done that. None of their three crewmates had been injured, just jostled a little, and defiantly scared. That fight ended badly for the humans, though. They were outnumbered, and to add insult to injury they were smaller than these aliens. The fight was embarrassingly short. It was infuriating.

He had a headwound and was bleeding all over the place, including those that manhandled him. He might have intentionally rubbed blood on them, just to be petty. A small part of him hoped his blood stained horribly. James had been slammed against a wall and definitely had a concussion. He was slurring his words and couldn’t focus. Fortunately, he wasn’t bleeding, and he wasn’t acting like he had internal damage, so he should hopefully recover without complications.

Steve took stock of the situation- he, James, and their crewmates were in a barred cell, bright lights almost blinding (that couldn’t be helping James), and no aliens were in sight. Steve still had his lockpicking kit, knife boot, and garrot. He wasn’t sure if it was arrogance or ignorance that let him keep his weapons, but he wasn’t going to complain. The first challenge was getting out of the heavy-duty cuffs placed on him and James. Steve was in the middle of trying to use his lockpicks on them when he heard James retching.

James had tried to turn his head so he didn’t get anything on himself, but was only partially successful. Luckily it was mostly just bile and whatever energy drink James had before the team left the ship. Steve did his best to help clean his friend, but it admittedly wasn’t much due to mobility issues and lack of supplies. He didn’t notice the vapor at first. He looked around the cell, thinking something was on fire. Nothing seemed amiss, so he looked down at James. James’s cuffs were… melting? where the bile had landed on him.

Steve blinked. That was a new one. To experiment he rubbed his cuffs on some of the bile, ignoring how gross it was. His cuffs started to melt too. Steve grinned. Sometimes it paid off to be an eldritch space horror abomination. His escape plan just got much simpler.

After making sure James was a comfortable as a concussed man could be, Steve got to work. He took off his overshirt, covered it in the bile, then rubbed it all over the cell bars, chatting ‘ew, ew, ew, gross, ew, gross, ew, ew, ew’ under his breath as he did so. He covered as many bars as he could. Sure, he could have just done a few, enough for them all to escape, but they gave James a concussion, so they deserved to have their cell bars melted. To be extra spiteful he wasn’t careful about not getting his blood everywhere. The bleeding had slowed down, so probably he wouldn’t get lightheaded from bloodless. Hopefully he could put that off until everyone got back to the ship safely.

While the bars were melting Steve got his group organized. He hashed out a quick escape route, instructed two of his crewmates on how to carefully carry a concussed human, and the third how to be a reliable look out. Once he was satisfied, they set out down the hall.

His encounter with the aliens came sooner than he was expecting. Their horrified recoil at the sight of him was gratifying. The reason the aliens were coming for them was not. Human blood was apparently toxic on this planet, and all the aliens that had come in contact with Steve’s blood were getting sick. The threat human blood posed outweighed whatever offence that had gotten them thrown in jail in the first place, so they were being exiled from the planet. Steve was a little disappointed at the anticlimactic-ness of it all, and even more so that he couldn’t see their reaction to their destroyed cell. He’d take the win though.

After James recovered he was very put out that he hadn’t been a more active participant in the rescue. The fact that he was the reason Steve was able to leave behind such malicious destruction was a small consolation.

.  .  .

AN: I started this because I wanted to write a story about human stomach acid destroying alien things. Inspired this post made by @aizawa-is-a-cat

I did little to no research on concussions. I’ve had what the doctor called a ‘semi traumatic concussion with memory loss’. I don’t think I was nauseous, but because of the memory loss I don’t remember the three-ish days before I got the concussion, the car accident that caused the concussion, and my memory of days after is spotty at best, so I can’t use my personal experience. I do know I was very confused, and every few minutes would ask what time it was or where I was.

More stories with Steve and James:

Death Before Two Trips

Specification is Important

Snippets feature Steve and James:

Hide the Object

Human Navigators

I know I already posted one of these today but I just wanted to post again bc wtf.

Many of the best human runners can run about 124 miles. The record was 350. But we’re just gonna go with 124 for this post as that seem to be the more normal number for running athletes that don’t possess the rare genetic ability to rapidly accelerate the clearing of lactic acid in the muscles.

A deer can run 10 to 15 kilometers before collapsing thats about 6 to 9 miles.

It’s.. it’s absolutely insane to think about. I personally can’t even run for one mile (but I also have a lack of red blood that prevents me from circulating oxygen properly)

Imagine an alien asks a human about their hunting techniques and they’re just like “Jesus what the f-ck?”

“Human, you lack sharp teeth or claws, you can’t run fast, you’re not venomous and you’re not very strong. How did you manage to become apex predators? You didn’t always have weapons after all!”

“Uhhhh we ran em to death.”

“You what”

“Giddy up”

“WHAT”

*(playful) chasing ensues*

Master list

Humans are Weird: Burnout

I didn’t know how best to phrase this, and I definitely didn’t write this with the express purpose to romanticize mental health issues; this is just my own experience with the thing

tw: burnout

On Earth, it would be a Friday.

If Nora was back home, it would be 6:22 PM.

She sat back down at her desk, stretching.

-x-

Vullox was conducting their regular End Of Week check-in. They stopped outside Nora’s door.

Inside was silent, but that was regular for this human. She had called herself a “homebody” once, they had remembered. They opened the door.

Now that Vullox was inside, they could hear a faint scratching noise. Human-Nora, they saw, was at the desk. They called to her.

No response.

Vullox made it halfway through the room when they slowed to a confused stop.

Nora was slumped at the desk, her head resting on the wood, her red pen scratching against the journal.

Vullox wondered briefly how Human-Nora could even be writing at all without being able to see the page. They came closer, almost hesitantly.

Nora’s eyes did not so much as move. They were half-open, staring blankly at a point near the door. Her breaths made a few strands of her black hair quiver over her mouth, but she did not notice - or she did not care. Her entire body was completely still—except her hand.

(There was a human word for this they had read somewhere - something relating to felines, Vullox thought.)

A mounting dread growing in them, they looked at the page.

Things that I do just to take stock because I’m so

freAKING

DEAD

grad school full time

WORKING full time

dealt with a nice guy I think??

Idk, I’m just sick of him at this point

blocked him yeah he got annoying I can’t express it

Reeling I guess from it

ESSAYS????!!!! WHY

WORKING

WAKING UP EARLY

LIKE EVERY FREAKING DAY I

DON’T

WANT IT

GOING THRU MY ESSAY OUTL

Here the words stopped, and Vullox looked at the pen.

They stepped back. Tried calling her name again, but the word seemed to die out. Their scales bristled and stuck out on all edges - the feelings of confusion and dread.

Human-Nora didn’t need to look at what she was writing. But it wasn’t muscle memory, as Human-Dalton had explained to them.

No, it was simply the fact that Human-Nora wasn’t writing anything at all.

The red pen moved up and down the page in short, irregular lines—sometimes dragging, sometimes in a quick burst. Occasionally, she would lift up the pen and tap at the page, before resuming. The page seemed to sink in on the most numerous of the red lines, so dense was the ink there. It was some strange, unknown language - or just no language at all.

Very suddenly, Vullox remembered the human word they were searching for as they stared at the pen, as they stared at her unblinking eyes and slumped form.

Catatonic.

Scales rustling, they walked quickly out of the room and to the one on its left.

-x-

Human-Sascha flung open the door in response to Vullox’s frantic calling. “What.”

She sounded so thoroughly annoyed that Vullox briefly reconsidered asking her for help.

“It is Human-Nora,” they responded quickly. “I went to go to her room for her check-in - I think there is—something—something wrong with her.” Vullox’s scales rustled and clicked constantly, a sign of fear on their home planet Vulmien.

“Is she alright?” Sascha asked as she shut the door behind her. Her voice was no longer annoyed - rather, it held a considerable amount of urgency.

She stepped through Nora’s open door and stopped for a few seconds. Nora was still at her desk, eyes glassy and pen scratching lifelessly. Vullox now could absorb the sight in full, and it rooted them to the spot.

Slowly Sascha made her way over to the desk and laid a hand on Nora’s back. She surveyed the writing in the journal and gently began rubbing Nora’s back, murmuring words that Vullox’s translator could just barely pick up:

“What makes you think you can’t do it?”

She murmured this a few times over, each with a pause between the sentence, each with some variation — as if she was having a conversation with Human-Nora’s brain.

The pen scratched on, still in the same irregular rhythm. Nora lay still, breathing through her mouth. The few strands of hair that lay in front of her mouth quivered with a severe regularity that (strangely) unsettled Vollux even though they knew normal human breathing patterns were set to a tempo.

The pen slowed—at least, there seemed to be more pauses between the lines and taps Human-Nora was creating.

Slowly, the pen grinded to a halt, wobbling on its tip. A few more taps.

The pen fell onto the messy page with Nora’s hand covering it. Her eyes closed and opened, and she blinked a few times. She stirred slightly, her back shifting. Her breathing grew deeper, inhales sharper, almost as if it itself was sentient.

Vullox reflected that it was rather like... watching someone coming back to life.

It took even more time for her to push herself up into a normal sitting position. She leaned into Sascha’s arms, sniffled, and a guttural sound escaped her, quite unlike her regular voice.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. Vullox was struck by how much like a child she sounded - a child apologizing to their mother.

“You’re alright,” Sascha murmured into the girl’s hair. “You’re back here now.”

Nora sniffled again. “I don’t wanna… do complex thinking.” She brought a hand up to her face and wiped something on her jeans; she had been crying while in her previous state.

She continued, still in the same child-like tone. “I just wanna… be a cat… and think of cat things… all the time…”

Sascha hid a smile, patting Nora’s arm rhythmically. “Which cat would you like to be?”

“A really fluffy one. Like that Minuet cat, with the fluffy tail.” Nora’s mouth twitched a little. “I’m not even… a cat person. I like dogs. Small dogs.”

“Come.” Sascha wrapped an arm around Nora and led her to the bed. “Come. Rest now. You’ve done a lot for the day.”

Nora curled into herself, beneath the blue blankets, until all that was visible of her were messy tufts of hair sticking up onto the pillow.

Vullox watched Human-Sascha swipe through Human-Nora’s phone and set it down on the little table near the bed just as a man’s voice began to speak from it:

“Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much…”

-x-

Sascha led a highly-confused Vullox out of Nora’s room and gently shut the door behind her.

“She put too much on herself,” she said quietly. “She’s suffering from burnout, so I put her to sleep with some Harry Potter. It’s always been comforting to her whenever she was sick, so I figured this would call for that.”

“But - what is - what about the… red markings in her journal?”

Sascha nodded. “She was initially trying to take stock of everything—trying to see what she had to do so she wouldn’t go on worrying for longer than she needs to. I guess… it turned into a vent, and then it got too much for her. So she just broke down.”

“So… this - this burnout… it does this to her? This strong of a reaction? She seemed quite… catatonic when I first found her.”

Sascha sighed. “This time was particularly strong. But other times she just vents it in her journal, or to someone. She’s not too confident in herself either, so those words that I kept repeating seem to help her.”

There was a pause.

“Thank you. For calling me.” Sascha's eyebrows were drawn with worry, but they cleared quickly.

There were good reasons, Vullox knew, that the two friends had requested to be put next to each other on the ship.

This had to be the strongest one yet.

Thinking about a ship getting an absolute bully for their first human. The kind of human that knows most aliens are afraid of ‘death worlders’, the kind of human that knows where the line is and how far they can go before they get into trouble, and who they can intimidate to let them cross the line as they want.

Part of the crew is like “I knew humans were just as bad as I thought.” Human doesn’t care. Human represents the worst of humanity, but they’re necessary for the ship - they make themselves necessary, and are not afraid to put the rest of the crew at risk if their authority seems challenged.

And then, they get a new human, who is smaller than the first. The first human tries their usual tactics - and the second human breaks their nose. If they were on the ship itself, there’d be consequences, and the first human knows it. But the second human is not afraid to be labeled a troublemaker, and cause trouble for the first, they do. A fierce competition blooms between them, as the second human clearly attempts to muscle in on the first’s territory, despite everyone warning them not to. And as this goes on, the second human befriends the rest of the crew. They’re different than the first. They are kind, they are smart, they are loyal.

They are a death worlder.

During a shipment of endangered animals from another planet, the first human is mauled by the adults. The second human is injured trying to protect them, but to no avail, the first human is killed. Analysis revealed the first human was sprayed with a kind of pheromone that agitates the species - but there was no reason for the pheromone to have been released by the species. Something else is going on, and the captain know it. The second human, despite the clear trauma, accepts the interview.

After the interview ends, the captain turns off the official recording.

“Off the record,” they ask, “what really happened?”

The human swallows, closes their dark eyes.

“They were trying to steal the eggs,” they said. “I saw them - I heard them on a black line with a darkspace distributer.”

“Why didn’t you report it?”

“Not enough time. And I… I had a feeling they’d done it before.”

The captain waits. The human’s closed eyes water.

“You sprayed the pheromone on them,” the captain says.

The human nodded. “They were so busy with the eggs, they didn’t even notice.”

“But,” the captain says, “You tried to save them after.”

The human’s shoulders shake. “I did.” They sob. “I did. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, but I did it. I did it for all of you. I did it for us.”

The human cries.

No charges are filed. The crew would mutiny if their friend were charged with anything, though the captain finds some way to ease the moral strain on both their hands and the second human’s. Another human is brought on board to help with the strain of the first human’s loss. Thy are bright-eyed, clever fingered, sharp-witted, soft-hearted. It takes time to for the wounds caused by the first human - described as a bully by the humans, also ‘a real asshole!’ by the newest recruit - but now that they are gone, they can all recover, and move on.

The moral here? Humans are not always good, but they should never, ever be underestimated - when they claim a pack, they will protect it even from their own kind.

Thank you to everyone who got me to 250 likes!

Ayo

Thank u sm

I cant type my hands are numb

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