#Cw menstruation duo

[qfitpac]

in conclusion

[levlies889]

@etoilesbignaturals

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Tag: @unamzi

my contribution to the “give skeletons your period cramps” thing is actually to say that if killer were capable of having periods, he would eventually lose track of when it is likely to happen—due to all the resets, and very likely the withholding of information such as dates and time from him by Chara and or nightmare.

he would only ever suspect when his period is coming on due to unusually intense reactions from his body—such as sudden becoming aware of how exhausted and fatigued it is, sudden lock ups in parts of its body from either dt clogging joints or times where bones were broken and healed wrong.

his soul’s light may even flare in response to any cramps, although due to his high pain tolerance and detachment from his body, he is not able to feel them except for in stage 1 or 3.

instead his biggest problems would be intrusive thoughts that feel dissociative in nature—easily agitated by things that didn’t bother him before and increase in murderous urges, and thoughts of self harm such stabbing his abdomen or the area where the blood is coming from—not particularly for seemingly any reason, such as the emotions associated with stage 1.

perhaps desire to be in pain, because the body is supposed to be feeling hurt during these times and it feels strange to be without. perhaps a desire to punish it for “betraying” him.

He is probably actually pretty self destructive during his time of the month. Would probably do strange things with the blood like finger paint. Might give it a taste if he’s curious enough. If nightmare or chara had issue with all the blood getting everywhere but there was no period products available or withheld from him he’d probably have to make do with stifling the blood.

maybe he just stops caring at some point and free bleeds, although perhaps only if doing so would irritate nightmare/Chara or otherwise make someone uncomfortable in a way that amuses him. Although I moreso see something like this happening if he can’t get or find anything to stop the bleeding, and trying to convince himself he has control over it by finding amusement in others disgust, irritation, or discomfort.

however, since periods are something he yet again has no control over, he’d likely find a way to keep control in any way he can just like if he ever found himself pregnant. i honestly think things like pregnancy and periods would only greatly disturb him and further his sense of detachment from the body—and he probably has a lot of repressed hatred and rage and disgust towards his body.

at most he’s probably shove some old rags or shirts or toilet paper down there and basically tell the body to get over itself— while he probably actively makes it worse. there may be an uptick in his sadistic and masochistic tendencies (especially towards the body, but perhaps even anyone who provokes his irritation—although he is very unlikely to express things like annoyance or anger in typical ways, possibly by emotionally detaching further after even the most minor outburst), and he may experience an increase in paranoia and dissociation.

(and perhaps things like praise and validation from someone he trusts, like color, could help—although if it came from anyone else he’d probably immediately assume they are trying to manipulate him. and he is still likely to doubt even color, due to paranoia.)

so perhaps he will attempt to handle it himself, he absolutely will keep it an absolute secret and tell no one, and would probably avoid anything that could provoke a response from the body or him.

[femboyhorror]

trans dipper vent fic - preview/unfinished rough draft

this isn't really my usual sort of posting. mainly b/c it's not art it's writing. a ventfic at that. but i figured maybe some gravity falls fans might follow me and enjoy seeing this unfinished piece. written as a way to vent out some stress i've been feeling, contains some trans!dipper angst.

cw for some menstruation descriptions, cramp descriptions and some implied abuse from the twin's parents.

.｡ ☽ ⋆⍋⍋｡⍋⍋�� ☾ ｡.

the bus ride to the forests of oregon was just as long and boring as he remembered it to be. after hours of sitting in the same seat next to his twin he felt a strong need to move his legs and his back was hurting something fierce.

and yet as he watched the scenery in the window slowly change from long wide plains to towering pine trees a sense of comfort made itself known in the boy's heart. a sense of safety that he had sorely missed in the months that dragged by.

once his eyes caught sight of the familiar 'welcome to gravity falls' sign, he felt a smile spread across his face. one that his sister mirrored.

home. they were finally home.

as soon as the bus came to a stop the mystery twin duo practically jumped up out of their seats. ignoring the brief shouts from the bus rider about staying put until the bus was at a complete stop, the twins darted out of the vehicle to meet with the equally as excited faces of their grunkles stan and ford.

"grunke stan! grunkle ford!" the two had greeted in near unison. mabel, ever the far more energetic of the twins, didn't hesitate to jump stan in a hug.

"whoa whoa there kid, you tryin to kill your old man?" the codger had grumbled out in protest, though the way his own face breaks out into a bright smile as he wraps his arms around her show that he missed her just as much.

"welcome back, my boy." ford had cooed as he and dipper embraced in a much calmer hug. emotion swelled in dipper's heart, and he responded through a knot in his throat,

"i'm glad to be back."

'my boy' he thinks. because that's who he was. here in gravity falls, he was no longer some little girl. he was a beloved great nephew, he was a brother, he was dipper pines. the relief behind these thoughts make tears spring to his eyes, and to his relief if ford notices his emotional moment he chooses not to comment on it.

"alright, i don't know about you two but i'm just about ready to have breakfast. and i'm guessing you two dinguses hadn't eaten yet, either?" stan spoke up to which mabel chimed in,

"i mean, duh! we wanted to have a reunion breakfast!" stan let out a faux yawn.

"well, i guess i could make us all some stancakes, but i better not catch you trying to add in some weird candy dinosaur things to the batter, kid!"

~ ~ ~

breakfast between the four of them was nothing less than a lively affair. despite stan's warnings, mabel had naturally managed to turn her own pancakes into what dipper could only described as a rainbow colored death wish of syrup and sprinkles.

and despite his lack of breakfast, dipper himself could barely do more than poke around his own smaller serving of stancakes. between a dull ache in his body and remaining pain of the events from back in california made the concept of eating a wholly unappealing one.

while stan and mabel were too distracted with their own conversation to pay this any mind, dipper sees ford shoot him a brief look of concern which he quietly waves off.

once breakfast had been finished, their grunkles assured the younger twins that they had the dishes taken care of and shooed them upstairs to unpack their things.

"hey, dipper?" mabel's words break through the brief moment of silent unpacking that had taken the two in the attic, her unusually soft tone feeling like a harsh reminder of everything that had happened before their arrival back at the small oregon town. "don't you think we should tell them what ha-"

"no." he cut in harshly before quickly adding, "i just… i don't think i'm ready to relive that whole mess just yet…" he sighs and adds in, under his breath. "i just want to be able to be dipper for a while…"

"you know you'll always be dipper to all of us. stan and ford wouldn't treat you badly for being different." the words 'unlike mom and dad' hang in the air, unsaid but understood by both parties.

dipper looks down at his half unpacked suitcase, the shouts of his parents echoing in his mind as he swallowed down the knot in his throat.

"i will tell them, just…" he takes a deep breath, trying to calm his shaking voice. "…just not yet."

a part of him almost expected mabel to push him to tell them, to say that honesty is the best policy and that he would feel better once he explained everything. however, mabel simply put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

~ ~ ~

the dawn of the first official day of summer began with excrutiating pain in dipper's lower gut signaling an unwelcome crimson visitor.

several days of dull pain made the blood shed that morning not all that surprising, and yet he wants to sob as he cleans himself up in the bathroom. of course. as if his present situation hadn't made his dysphoria bad enough already, mother nature would taunt him further with her wholly unwanted and unwelcome visit.

forcing the added stress and pain to the back of his mind with everything else, he pops some pain pills and tries not to let his agony show as he slowly wanders down the stairs. immediately he's aware of the smell of smoke and he follows it to the kitchen to find the source to be a pan of half burnt eggs. stan seems to be attempting to teach mabel to cook with… mixed results. dipper simply shakes his head and takes a seat at the table where he sees his great uncle ford nursing a cup of coffee, seemingly unbothered by the duo's antics at the stove.

"good morning, my boy." he had greeted dipper before furrowing his brow. "are you feeling alright, you look pale." he added, the boy's pain evidently not being hidden well enough.

"i'm fine, grunkle ford, just… tired is all…" he assured, even taking an apple off the table to eat despite the fact that eating was currently the last thing he wanted to do. robotically he forces himself to take a bite out of the fruit as his great uncle continues speaking.

"well, dipper, i was going to ask if you wanted to accompany me on a walk around the forest, but if you're not feeling well enough than we-"

"nononono! we can go for a walk if you want to." he quickly cut in. despite his current state making him want nothing more than to lay in bed with a good book, dipper really doesn't think he wants to spend the day alone in his room. even if the cramps kill him, he really wants to spend time with his family. ford seems surprised by his answer but quickly recovers.

"oh! alright then, we can go after breakfast if that's alright with you."

"sounds good to me, i'll go grab my shoes!"

the apple would be left forgotten on the table.

~ ~ ~

the gravity falls forest is a beauty to behold. the morning sunlight streams through the canopy of the trees above and the life of the forest around the two of them makes itself known through the chattering of the birds to the gentle trots of the deer to even the little bugs and other odd beings that live in the strange forest.

ahead of dipper, ford is happily going on about the different sorts of flora and fauna in the woods, about the new creatures that seemed to have appeared since the last summer and pointing out anything of interest to his great nephew who tries his best to listen as he trudges alone but it's difficult to focus on much of anything through the haze of pain radiating from his lower gut.

he sees ford stop in place, looking to dipper with barely hidden worry.

"dipper, are you sure you're feeling alright? you know you can tell me if you're hurt, right?" ford had asked, and between the genuine care his great uncle was showing him on top of the pain he was still in it was taking all of dipper's self control to not burst into tears right then and there. he can just barely nod in response. his great uncle doesn't seem to buy it one bit but aside from a tense sigh he doesn't push the issue and continues on their trek.

as he forces himself foward to keep up with ford, the hunger and pain seem to mix into one big blob of bad that seems to seem into dipper's very bones. he doesn't know how long he goes on for until he finds himself leaning against a tree, holding his midsection as the pain felt like knives stabbing into him mercilessly.

"dipper, enough is enough, you need to tell me what's…" his greak uncle's shout of panic trailed of and pure shame filled dipper when he realized why; trails of blood were running down his legs.

dipper, suddenly filled with pure shame, could only look away in embarrassment. inwardly he wished that a hole would open up underneath him. for the earth to swallow him whole so he wouldn't have to face ford after he saw him like this. although dipper had mostly grown out of his hero worship of his mysterious lost grunkle after weirdmageddon, ford was still someone he had a high opinion of. and now that he saw dipper like this… was he disgusted of him? ashamed? would he regret letting dipper come back to visit? the thought finally brings tears to his eyes.

before he can spiral further, however, he feels ford's hand on his shoulder.

"dipper, dipper, can you look at me? …i'm not mad, dipper, i just need to know if you're alright." he briefly looks up and through his tears he sees that ford's expression betrayed no digust or shame or even so much as frustration. his expression was simply that of a caring family member that was deeply worried about him.

"do you want to go back to the shack?" he simply asks. dipper nods, a feeling of guilt settling into his ribs at the thought that he might've ruined their outing.

"dipper, it's alright, we can go on a walk another day." ford, seemingly reading dipper's mind, gently assured him. no other words were exchanged on the way back to the shack, and it wouldn't be until the two were settled back home with dipper able to clean himself up did time come for some explaining. stan and mabel, who quickly seemed to catch onto the quiet mood around the other two, had also chose to be present for it. and despite dipper's humiliation over the whole situation, he was thankful for his twin's added presence of support as he readied himself to come out, desperately hoping for it to go better than it had the last time.

"…my name wasn't always dipper…" he starts after a moment of thought. looking up for a moment, both of his grunkles are attentive and patient, and so he summons the courage to continue. "growing up, i always felt like i wasn't supposed to be a girl. even when my parents told me that all girls feel that way. and i started to realize that maybe i wasn't a girl at all…" he remembers one sleepless night when he discovered the word that would change everything for him. 'transgender'. suddenly he wasn't some broken mess of a person, suddenly he understood himself in a way he never had before.

"when my parents send me and mabel here to gravity falls, i realized it could've been a chance for me to see how it felt to be seen as a boy for the first time. and when i started using my new name, when everyone was calling me a boy i felt so happy. i felt- i felt like i was finally who i really am for the first time in my life." the memories of the first summer in the town he would come to see as his home brought a smile to his face. and despite all the trials he'd gone through in that summer, he truly felt like he had grown into a strong and proud young man by the end of it all. "i'm sorry for not telling you all sooner." from his spot at the table, stan seemed to take this in.

"kid, i kind of figured you were trans…" dipper looked up at this, face flushed with embarrassment once again.

"you knew?!" he squeaked out and stanley put his hands up in mock surrender.

"i was there when you goobers were born, after all. when you two got off the bus that summer and you were introducing yourself as dipper i just kinda put two and two together. s'not like i've never been around trans people before, kid."

"what my brother is trying to say is that we both love and accept you no matter what." dipper feels a weight lifted off his chest at both of his grunkle's kind words.

"see, dipper, i knew our grunkles wouldn't be like mom and dad."

"mabel, what do you mean by that? did your parents not take it well?" the way the younger twin's moods fell at ford's question was an answer in of itself, and not a good one. mabel's expression changed to that of a barely restrained anger and dipper shrinks in on himself.

"i… i hadn't told them much about it before going to gravity falls. i was just trying to figure it all out then, but i guess our parents caught onto me being out during that summer. not long after we came back they had a lot of questions and kind of backed me into a corner."

[enbyflock2]

Gender Identity Discoveries in Music Performance

CW: body and social dysphoria, homophobic slurs, transphobia, body image

I am a senior music education major, and I realized that I am a non-binary trans person at the beginning of this semester. Coming out helped me realize how to be “in the moment” when performing music. When I turn “in the moment,” I feel my preoccupations with gender completely leave, or my desires towards gender touch me in a way where I can see my usually conflicting feelings of gender as compatible. I realize I have always felt this way in my performances in the past where I had felt “in the moment.”

Regardless of your gender identity, you can still feel freed from a sense of gender in the music making process. Cismen specifically will grow up in environments that tell them playing music is effeminate. Playing in ensembles can help them realize that music is manly, they can get in touch with a feminine side through music, and/or simply that music is not and should not be about gender. Any of these realizations are valid. A person designated one gender can discover they identify as a different gender through the creative process of making music. Music is incredibly spiritual and revealing of one’s true self in so many ways.

When someone performs music, whether they realize it or not they are facing several different forces at once. They are facing the external forces of audience and reception, the internalized forces of things their music teachers instructed them to do (or the many influences they picked up from music recordings and performances), and (possibly) the purely internal forces of the heart, spirit, body, and mind. Some call musicians brave, daring, and bold. Some think that professional musicians are full of it. But I think of professional musicians as normal people. We just focus on being “in the moment” when we perform, and try to face these tough forces with a calm “evaluation without judgment,” or evaluation that focuses on improving the performance itself instead of placing value judgments on the personal self.

Transgender people are similar to musicians. When transgender people prepare themselves for the day by putting on their clothes, they are facing several different forces at once when they go out in public. They are facing the external factors of the social environments around them that will either accept or loathe them. They are facing the internalized factors of years of being told they are not acting like their assigned-sex/gender, and all the bullying and peer pressure that had went along with that. They are (possibly) facing their purely internal factors of their heart, spirit, body, and mind. Some call transgender people brave, daring, and bold. Some think that transgender people are full of it. But transgender people are just normal people. Whether a transgender person means to or not, when they present themselves in a different way that is outside of their assigned sex gender, they are making an eloquent statement about all the social environments they have been in throughout the entirety of their life. That statement says: “It is what it is.”

I was desperate for answers when I came to the realization that I was transgender, and I’m still searching for answers. This will be a lifelong realization. However, I feel fortunate enough that my identity as a musician answered so many questions I had been looking at for a long time. Now I remember why I went through that phase in middle school/early high school where I liked those 60s-70s male avant-garde pop musicians: such as Frank Zappa, Captain Beefheart, and Ron and Russell Mael from the pop duo Sparks. I felt completely isolated from the experience of boys in my middle school and high school that I needed someway to relate. So I listened to the music and watched the videos and interviews of these male avant-garde weirdos, and appropriated the characteristics they expressed within these medias into a male version of myself. I incorporated their utter sarcasm, treating everything like a big joke, and lack of emotionality. This is something that the middle school and high school boys could relate to, and I did get a good circle going of male friends. But I also incorporated their caustic wit and know-it-all attitudes, which many of my male friends and peers found to be distasteful. Also, the music that Zappa, Beefheart, and Sparks performed was music that seemed completely outside of a gender experience the way I understood gender in middle school and high school. So comparing music tastes to my male friends was problematic.

I remember when I was first introduced to the music, videos, and interviews of Joni Mitchell, Kate Bush, FKA Twigs, and Björk. Once again, this was music that seemed very avant-garde and outside the experience of gender the way I understood gender. Girls in my middle school and high school did not listen to any of these artists. However, these groups and solo artists were slightly different from the male avant-garde weirdos in one way: utter emotionality expressed in their music, videos, and interviews. When I came to college and started looking closely at the lyrics of these female artists, I came to realize that their music is often overtly and literally feminine, especially the music of Kate Bush. Her lyrical topics often deal with motherhood, pregnancy, womanly sexual experience, and (yes) even menstruation.

I notice now how these artists affected my personality, thoughts, and communications. The male side of me I learned about through Zappa, Beefheart, and Sparks (i.e. smart, witty, sarcastic) is something I occasionally bring out in how I communicate as a person, but I honestly don’t listen to their music much anymore. The female side of me I learned about through Mitchell, Bush, Twigs, and Björk (i.e. power in vulnerability, emotionality in conversation) is something I bring out a lot more in my everyday communications, and I still listen to their music a lot. I love both these sides to myself, but I have to be cautious with how I communicate and not adhere to one side strictly. Being a sarcastic know-it-all is not always appropriate as a young adult, but it sometimes works if I’m not achieving something I desperately need to get. I can love the music of FKA Twigs and talk like how she does in interviews, but dieting because I’m jealous of her figure is not good. I tried to do that last summer. It was unhealthy and unrealistic in my male body build… However, all these artists are similar in how they call out the ills of modern society in their works, they are utterly original, and/or they enjoy and celebrate their sexuality. This is the kind person I always was, always am, and always aspire to be.

Being raised in a rich Republican Catholic family in a small, redneck town can really isolate you from the realities of the world and being able to communicate who your personal self is. I have tried to overcome these difficult aspects of my background through dating, meditating, exercising weekly, occasionally drinking with friends, keeping more conscious with news and politics, and practicing my instrument everyday. Studying music at the collegiate level has helped me tremendously with my psyche, and actually extending myself socially to others. It is a privilege to be able to study the works of Schubert, Stravinsky, and Schoenberg and see that they wanted to break down these associations people attribute to music categories/genres, while still taking aspects from these categories/genres within their works as composers. I have realized many students on this liberal arts campus want to think critically about these associations they attribute to social communications and categories, but are often afraid to follow through with action. But just knowing that the students have this desire too makes me feel at ease to extend myself socially.

I have always felt a clear sense of self, but have struggled to extend this self into everyday social communications outside of music. It has come to the extent where answering the question “How do you define yourself?” has been problematic for me. Performing music at the collegiate level has helped me answer this question. One answer I give is the simple, clichéd “I am who I am.” I find this present in the performances I’ve had recently where I have just felt so clear-headed and “in the moment,” all because I have faced my identity as a transgender person. I’ve realized that all the performances before I came out of the closet where I have felt a clear-headed “in the moment” sensation have been because I left behind my preoccupations with how I wasn’t fitting into either gender. I just didn’t realize I was doing that at the time.

Another way I answer, “How do you define yourself?” is “I am all the people that have influenced me.” I find this present in the recent performances where I have been “in the moment,” but in another way, where all my influences in my life start popping in my head as images and start supporting me through the performance process. I used to get scared and distracted when this would start happening to me, and I would get preoccupied with one of those images. I’d see Zappa, Otis Murphy, or Gerard Morris and think to myself “These are men… play like a man...” Then… AGH. I’d miss a note, play with poor tone quality, or articulate lazily. I’d see Kate Bush, Ida Gotkovsky, or Minna Stelzner and think to myself “These are women… play like a woman…” Then… AGH! I’d fuck up again! But through meditation, I am learning to let these images pass through my head naturally, so I can see a wide assortment of them through my head as I perform: male, female, and non-binary influences. When I let all these associations wash over me naturally, I play more professionally and beautifully. My heart and mind feel euphoric, my spirit feels uplifted, and my body moves in a naturalistic motion. The most vivid memory I had of this process was in my first Puget Sound wind ensemble concert. I just didn’t realize what was going on at the time.

The cisgender professional musician probably experiences being “in the moment” the same way I do. They seem to be in a euphoric, spiritually uplifting rush, and I can see it through the natural movements of their bodies within performance. They too are channeling all these influences at once of male, female, and non-binary. But I approach and interpret this process as “gender fluidity” for myself because I have been bothered by gender my whole life. Through my coming out process, I was brought back to memories of what seemed to be my internalized, or possibly purely internal reactions to a different gender. Yes, this included listening to strange avant-garde music, but also tucking away my dick and clutching my chest as boobs back in high school to relax and find enjoyment out of my overweight body I didn’t really like. It included years of being called faggot, being told I talked, walked, ate, acted, and sat like a girl. It included many moments of being terrified and confused with my own personal experiences of masturbation. But observing the external forces I’m around today is much different from years before. Today, I am a respected musician within my major. I love my body and sexuality, and keep learning how to love it better each day. When my friends see me in either a dress or a suit, they just look at me, nod their heads, and say a loving comment, such as: “You can pull off any outfit, Timmy.”

“It is what it is.”

https://drive.google.com/open?id=0BwVtq3-4ILHWYjJOOW5qZUtnTU0

[qfitpac]

Top tep fucking scariest messages to receive after playing mc with no connection to the outside world for 3 hours

[qfitpac]

@etoilesbignaturals

[levlies889]

IKR!!!!!!!!!!

Ppl using the tag "canon compliant" on band rpf will never not be funny to me