#thanks for reading really

[starlinefactives]

(ENG) Dealing with dysmorphia as a factive

— By Hyuka

Spanish version here: Link

Index ✨

Intro...

What to do during the crisis...

What to do after the crisis...

Remark and summary...

1. Intro⭐

Hi, I'm an introject of Hueningkai, one of the members of a K-pop group called TxT. As you can see I use Hyuka to refer to myself. I'm not going to explain what's an introject, what's DID, etc because I do this content by and for other introjects. More info about our project here: Link

In this post you'll find tips to manage easily the days where looking in the mirror, listening to yourself and remembering your "other life" hurts. Perhaps dysmorphia isn't the perfect term, since for us (factives) depersonalization's often mixed with this body distortion. We have a vivid reference to how we see ourselves, and I know firsthand how it can end up affecting physical & emotional health. So here we're 🤣

2. What to do during the crisis⭐

There are things that you can do but I recommend doing the hard stuff when the feeling doesn't cloud us so much... So:

0°) Right now isn't the time to look for answers.

First heal and feel better. In moments like this, it isn't necessary to look for concrete answers, if not to rest and seek personal care.

Things you could do at the moment:

1°) Don't look for photos/videos of your source on your bad days.

I know, or at least it happens to me, I begin to sink into photos but they only widen the abyss between feeling better and the current moment. It doesn't mean you must never watch them, of course you can enjoy watching videos/photos/etc. but when you feel good... Not when you're hating the body of the system.

2°) Avoid mirrors. Reflection from the phone included.

Something that has helped me is that if the peak of discomfort catches me at a meeting/family gathering/similar and they want a group photo, I don't look at it at the moment (Other alter will do it some days after, for example). So you don't deprive yourself of creating beautiful memories for the day that we will can look at ourselves.

3°) Try to call another alter to the inner or the front to help you.

Be careful, not that they remove you from the front, from the conscience and TADAA. No, I mean someone to accompany you. Something that our therapist told us is to avoid sudden switches and seek accompaniment as far as possible. Once you are accompanied, if the situation allows it, try to focus on taking care of yourself physically and mentally.

4°) When you cannot reason with your thoughts; distract yourself.

There must be something you like to do that is not related to your source, even if it is sleeping, walking, calling a friend on the system, listening to other types of music...

3. What to do after the crisis⭐

These activities are the ones that could help you prevent and make dysmorphia peaks more manageable.

5°) Silence words that may trigger you in social media.

For example, for me they are weight and food themes. One day, the cookies on my phone detected this, it began an automatic and continuous barrage of suggestions for weight loss apps, of people talking nonsense and insulting each other. If I had taken my own advice earlier, I wouldn't have this problem now. Highly recommended //teasing tone

6°) Find a "safe outfit", if you are able find a style.

It doesn't have to be the same as in your source, just have to help the skin feel more yours. It can also help with dysphoria. This is more inherited dysphoria-themed advice from those before me in the system; our body's afab and most alters are male or non-binary.

7°) Prepare a small emergency kit with thing that you like, things that calm you down, may with a list of thing you verified before that works…

Even if it's a simple list stuck in a corner of your room, it will already make it easier for you when you start to feel bad. In my case, I have this in TO DO list... so don't try to self-impose perfection (But I'll make the kit, I promise, in due time).

8°) Remember what makes you yourself which I assure you is not just your source.

Another thing I have in TO DO list... In my case, it's really hard to validate myself without comparing me to Hueningkai (he and I have a toxic relationship //joke). I invite you to make a list as well with what friends, other alters, yourself, etc see in you that makes you be youself 💖

9°) Familiarize yourself with the face of the system.

One of our alters spent a few moments looking at ourselves in the mirror and meditating on what the face of the system was like during his front. He has the advantage of being calm and rational, maybe it will take us more to get to that point... but trying little by little can help us in the long run.

4. Remark and summary⭐

Of the five factives I'm the one that manage this issue the worst, that's why i wanted to agroup everything here and share it. It's very complicated, and even with the therapist I haven't dared to confess that I'm an introjection of an idol, btw… but step by step, don't hope perfection one day to another. I like to keep on mind that my system is with me and that I'm just as valid to making friends & just existing as any other human being.

I leave you the summary in a decorated list~ Thanks for reading my first long post!

Tips against dysmorphia as factives:

In crisis it is not time to look for answers 🪐

Don't look for photos/videos of your source on your bad days 🌎

Avoid mirrors 🌜

Try to call another alter to the inner/front that goes along with you 🌌

When you can't reason with your thoughts; distract yourself 🛸

Silence words that may trigger you on social media 🌒️

Find a "safe outfit", if you are able find a style 🌕️

Prepare a small emergency kit 🚀

Remember what makes you yourself 👽

Get familiar step by step with the face of the system 🔭

[beepboopappreciation]

Is this anything

[noodles-and-tea]

Last part whoo!!!

PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4

[atissi]

cupids...ATTACK

[stil-lindigo]

warmth.

a comic about not being alone.

--

creative notes:

--

all my other comics

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[xitsensunmoon]

He's a bit too excited to see you clock in

[umblrspectrum]

"smaller mass" you say

[berenshand]

one of my favourite little things about the murderbot diaries is how present all secunit's friends are even if they're not actually physically present. it doesn't do the annoying thing where it jumps through hoops to bring back characters that aren't really relevant to the narrative but it also doesn't do the other annoying thing where it pretends they never existed either. like secunit talks about art and mensah all the time even when art or mensah aren't in the book. it's clear how bharadwaj has impacted its personal growth even when she's literally on another planet. it complains about gurathin and pin-lee when they're not there. it's still sad about miki and don abene and it mentions tapan and maro and rami even though it only knew them for a few days (because when you're new at being a person every interaction with other people is important even if it's short). iris reminds it of mensah. iris also reminds it of ratthi. its hair is fluffy bc it let amena play hairdresser off-screen and it messages her so she knows it's okay. it doesn't have to worry about protecting volescu anymore because volescu retired thank goodness. it's still using thiago's language module. etc etc etc

it's such good writing because it's such a little thing that gives the characterization and relationships greater depth and also reinforces the running theme of friendship in the series and then also subtly gives this sense of 'the people you love are a part of you/your story' and also reinforces secunit's role as a storyteller because it's constantly telling little stories about all its friends.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I'm not going back to Gusu with you.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[commsroom]

the u.s.s. horrible unending nightmare 💥 (once again from the incredible @hehearse)

[mimimar]

finally completed my comic based on the song ivy by taylor swift!✿ please zoom in to read the text and see the details~

✿.✿.✿

you can get the digital zine pdf here! it includes extras like character profiles, costume design, more art of willow and ivy, zine-exclusive sketches and an illustrated guide to the symbolism of all the flowers in this comic.

you can also get prints of individual pages here!

✿.✿.✿

[bixels]

Why the hell, shit, you damned bastard son of a bitch

[wuntrum]

it's true! you can't make this stuff up! officially made my deposit, and its happening on the funny tv day for real. i've already made some progress toward the total doll hair amount i'll need (thank you endlessly), but if you want to help me not stress as much about not being able to work for six weeks, you can

get one of my comics (specifically oh huh, which is about gender stuff, but they're all free/PWYW)

pre-order one of the items from my top surgery collection (physical comic, stickers, that sort of thing)

buy me a coffee (or the pypl equivalent)

or if you can't do any of that, just sharing around my art helps as well :) thank you thank you thank you

[miniimerry]

My litmus test for deciding if I respect or value a person’s One Piece opinions is looking at the way they discuss Usopp tbh. You can tell a lot about someone based on how they talk about Usopp specifically.

If a person insists that Usopp is useless (whether it’s because he’s not as strong as Zoro or Luffy or Sanji or because he “doesn’t have a real job” on the crew) it tells me that they don’t pay attention to what Usopp does contribute, nor do they pay attention to what the story itself deems useful. Usopp may not be a massive, hulking powerhouse with ultra-powerful haki, but he does have utility in the crew. (And even if he didn’t, he would still belong because they wanted him.)

If a person insists that Usopp is just a crybaby or a coward and that he sucks because of this, it tells me that you don’t pay attention to what he’s doing while he’s running or crying. He might cry or shake or run, but he always comes back. He always stands up and fights in the end. He feels scared and then he does it anyway. It’s easy to forget, but Usopp is just a human in a world of monsters. For him to stand up and fight takes a lot of courage.

If a person insists that Usopp is not strong, it tells me they miss what the story itself tells us about what strength is and what it means to be strong. He has a skill that most do not. He is able to shoot with a degree of accuracy that is borderline inhuman. Whether he can kick through a boulder is irrelevant. Sanji can’t snipe from hundreds of feet away.

If you can’t look at Usopp and see where he fits in the story, I am truly uninterested in anything else you have to say about this story.

[sceletaflores]

no logan actually has me in a chokehold, all I can think of is him being away for a mission but you’re so needy for him that you grab one of his flannels and ball it up and shove it in between your legs and then basically humping it to get off, and maybe he comes back early from said mission and you don’t hear him come in so he’s just watching you for a while before he’s had enough and decides to take matters into his own hands, btw love your writing keep up the good work!!💕💕

nat’s note: i read this and immediately had to put my phone down and walk away to breathe for a second. your mind is so beautiful anon, thanks a bunch for sharing! hope you love it <333

|| feat. logan howlett x fem!reader || 18+ SMUT MDNI ||

Six days is a long time.

Six days without Logan is almost unbearable.

The first three days were fine, nice even. You had the whole house to yourself, free to sprawl out on the couch and binge watch the guilty pleasure shows he always makes fun of.

The quiet was a welcome change—you could really relax, could sit with your thoughts.

Then day four rolled around, and things changed.

You started to notice the little things—the leather jacket he left slung over the back of the dining room table chair, the way the bed felt too big without him, how cold you were at night without him plastered to your back.

By day five, the quiet wasn’t soothing anymore; it felt empty.

You missed the sound of his voice, missed his scent melded in the sheets of your bed, missed the warmth of his body next to yours.

And by day six? Well, six days without Logan wasn’t just lonely anymore—it was a special kind of torture.

It wasn’t just the emotional closeness or the comfort of his presence you longed for—it was the rough scrape of his stubble on your skin, the way his body pressed into yours, heavy and demanding. The way his voice dropped when he growled your name, hands gripping your hips with a possessive edge that sent shivers down your spine.

You didn’t just miss him, you craved him.

It was settling in an unbearable ache, low in your stomach. A constant thrum that served as a reminder of just how much you missed his touch.

You didn't realize just how spoiled he'd gotten you. You haven't gone a day without at least four orgasms all year. Logan made sure of that, enforces it like it's a house rule he'd die before breaking.

You’d gotten too used to the feel of his hands roaming over your body, the way his lips traveled from your mouth down to the space between your thighs, the way his cock brushes against that special spot inside you each time he slides home in your pussy.

Your body longed for him in a way that made it almost impossible to focus on anything else. Every thought seemed to circle back to Logan, to what it would feel like to have him here, right now.

The worst part—no amount of toys or creative use of your hands was enough to soothe that ache. It didn’t matter how many times you tried to satisfy yourself; nothing worked.

The frustration was unbearable.

You blame that for your lapse in judgement when you made your way into your shared closet.

It was completely innocent at first, just you looking for something to wear to bed.

You only happened to trip over a shirt Logan must have left strewn across the floor before leaving. One of his favorites, a worn down brown and red flannel you'd seen him in countless times.

Before you even registered what you were doing, you bent down and scooped it up, burying your face in it. His scent—earthy, woodsy, and unmistakably him—hit you like a freight train as heat began to pool between your legs.

Suddenly, it was like Logan was there, surrounding you completely, teasing you with his absence. The ache deepened, twisting into something even more unbearable.

It was almost too much. That raw desire you’d been trying to hold at bay snapped its leash, and suddenly, the thought of going to bed wasn’t even an option.

You were already soaking wet by the time you made it to bed, greedy lungfuls of Logan's scent enough to get you there in no time.

The flannel was warm in your hands, the roughed up fabric felt oddly comforting against your fingertips and the skin of your cheeks.

As you settled onto the mattress, a thought crept in. Wicked and indulgent in a way that made your ears burn with shame and your stomach swirl with heady arousal that fanned the fire raging between your legs.

Before you could stop yourself, you slid your panties off, your body already tingling with anticipation

You pulled the shirt between your legs, pressing it against your dripping core, the familiar scent wrapping around you like a vice.

You moaned at the feeling, the first rush of relief flowing through you like water through a desert. The friction, the smell, it was almost like he was in bed with you, touching you, guiding your movements. But no matter how nice it felt, it still wasn’t enough.

The ache was only just lessened, the thrum of need was still there, undeniable and persistent.

With a whine, you leaned back on the bed, knees bent, legs spread wide, and you started to rock your hips against the fabric. Every movement sent delicious waves of pleasure through you, but it wasn’t the same. Not quite. You needed more—needed him.

Your fingers gripped the flannel tighter, dragging it harder against your aching clit. Eyes squeezing shut, you let out a desperate moan, hips working so fast the bed frame started thumping against the wall in a steady rhythm.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the fantasy of him—of him under you, of his hands gripping your thighs, pulling you closer. His voice low and gravelly as he whispered filthy things in your ear.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, and you were so lost in your thoughts, so caught up in the moment, that you didn’t even hear the front door open.

Didn’t hear the heavy footsteps making their way through the house, getting closer and closer.

But when the door to the bedroom creaked open, your eyes shot wide, and there he was.

Logan, home a day early.

He’s stood in the doorway. His sharp gaze locked on you, jaw clenched tight. His eyes darkened, filled with lust and something else—something dangerous.

Your heart pounds frantically in your chest, but your body refused to stop moving, hips still grinding slowly against his flannel as if they have a mind of their own.

You expect him to say something, to scold you, maybe—but instead, a slow, dirty smirk spread across his face.

Without breaking eye contact, he crosses the room, shedding his leather jacket with a deliberate slowness as he does. He drops into the chair sitting in the corner of your bedroom, legs spread wide as he leaned back, watching you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

"I didn't say to slow down," he growls, the edge in his voice making your stomach flip. "Keep going, baby. Show me how much you missed me.”

The command in his voice was irresistible. Your body responding before your mind could even catch up, hips rolling against the flannel faster again, a soft whimper slipping from your lips. The friction feels even better knowing he’s watching, eyes dark and heavy with desire as he sees you fall apart.

"Logan, please" you gasp, hips moving faster.

"Please what, darlin'?" he hums.

"I don't- ah! Anything, please," you rush out, eyes glued to the obscene spread of his legs, where his strong thighs stretch the thick denim taught.

Logan shakes his head with a dark chuckle. "No, you wanna get yourself off without me you do it. Can't have your cake and eat it too, baby."

You whine, high and loud as tears burn at your waterline, threatening to spill down your cheeks. "I can't," you sob, voice tiny and pitiful in the quiet of the room.

"Don't be like that, princess," he chastises, clicking his tongue at you disapprovingly. "Know you can come just like this. Bet that pussy's been drippin' for days, huh?"

You nod pitifully, biting down on your lip as your legs starting trembling on either side of the balled up shirt.

“Fuck, look at you,” he growls, voice dripping with lust. “So needy you couldn’t even wait for me, huh? You missed my cock that bad?”

You nod again breathless, the pressure building between your thighs becoming unbearable as his words wash over you.

“Bet you were thinkin’ about me, weren't you?” His voice drops, rich and syrupy, and it crawls over your skin like a slow burn. “All this time, wishing it was me between your legs instead of that fucking shirt.”

Your movements grow more frantic, eyes dropping to his lap, zeroing in on where his thick cock presses against his thigh, tenting his jeans lewdly. Your mouth waters, lips dropping open with a quiet moan as you imagine him slipping between them, fucking your throat and making your jaw ache.

“Such a dirty little thing,” he purrs, his voice sending shivers down your spine. “You like putting on a show for me, don’t you? Gettin' off starin' at my cock while you fuck yourself with my shirt? Goddamn, I can see how fuckin' soaked you are from here.”

The flannel was soaked now, wet and clinging to your folds as you desperately rub yourself against it, your body trembling with need. Every roll of your hips makes you more desperate, more sensitive, pleasure coiling tight in your belly and almost ready to snap.

Your moans grow louder, filling the room as you chase your release, the rough fabric of his flannel dragging against your swollen clit in all the right ways. Logan watching you—making you do this—had you teetering on the edge, your breath coming out in sharp pants.

His voice was a constant stream of filth, each word sending shock waves of pleasure straight to your core.

“Atta' girl, that's it,” he rasps, his voice rough and commanding. “Come for me. Drench that shirt, baby. Make a mess of it. I’ll fuck you right after, promise.”

You were teetering on the edge, your whole body trembling with need as you rock against the flannel harder, faster, desperate for release.

"Come on, baby," he goads, leaning forward in his chair, eyes burning with something feral as he licks his lips. "If you get it nice and dirty for me, I'll wear it for you."

That was all it took. The thought of Logan walking around in his shirt after this, the fabric soaked with your essence, staking your claim on him, has you coming.

Your body shudders violently as waves of pleasure crash through you, pulling you under. Your back arches off the bed, hips jerking erratically against the flannel as you cry out his name, hot tears spilling freely down your cheeks.

Logan growls in satisfaction, eyes locked on you, watching as you tremble and gasp through the aftershocks. He stands from the chair, slow and deliberate, stalking toward the bed with a dark gleam in his eyes as his hands drop to his belt.

“Good girl,” he rumbles, voice thick with desire as he climbs onto the bed, caging you in with his body. His lips brush your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Now it’s my turn, baby. And I ain’t even close to done with you yet.”

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a/n: wow this really got away from me lmao...it was not supposed to be so long ANDDD sorry for the low-key fade to black ending but I had no idea how to end this heheh okay bye love you!

[stil-lindigo]

the machine.

a comic about being a 'creator' online.

creative notes: