#the curse is dysphoria but also pain and like

[vulpinesaint]

BEEN TWO DAYS NOW BOYS I THINK WE'RE IN THE CLEAR! NO MORE CURSE OF THE BLIGHTED I AM FREE... IMAGINE A WORLD WHERE TESTOSTERONE TAKES ALL THE PAIN AWAY...

[knifedog-machina]

(Non)Humanity and Species Dysphoria: the Forced Transformation Trope

Written by Gavin on August 25, 2024.

As a nonhuman, do you ever think about why there's so many stories and myths and legends about humans being turned into animals? You ever wonder why it's usually a punishment or a curse, or why the characters try to do whatever it takes to become human again? You ever think, "I don't understand, I would love to be an animal and get rid of my human body, what's the problem?"

As a human myself, one whose system has been in the alterhuman community for years, I hope I can help bridge the gap of understanding here.

The way many humans see being turned into an animal as a curse, the way they'd be incredibly distressed about becoming nonhuman?

That is species dysphoria.

That is a human experiencing species dysphoria, because being perceived as nonhuman or other-than-human causes the exact same feelings of pain and wrongness and disconnection from their body that a nonhuman can experience when perceived as human.

(Particularly, this might be an orthohuman, someone who has a normative relationship with their human cultural and species identity, as opposed to an alterhuman, who experiences alternative/nonnormative humanity or a species identity separate from humanity. Human alterhumans can also experience this sort of species dysphoria - hi, I'm one of them.)

Imagine being your species your entire life, the way you know you're intended to be, living in a body you're comfortable in - and then having that body ripped away from you. Being forced to live in a form that doesn't match who you are, what you know you are, and desperately wanting to find a way to change back because you know you're not meant to be like this.

If this sounds familiar because it's what you experience as a nonhuman - that is how a lot of human beings feel about being transformed into something nonhuman. It's the feeling of being the wrong species! It's the desire to return to the form that you know as yourself!

The fact that orthohumans are born into the species they identify as does not mean that they could never comprehend your nonhuman experience. You can explain your nonhuman species dysphoria to an orthohuman. Given all the examples of unwanted transformation stories throughout human history, I think you're likely to find that they'll understand when you put it in that frame of reference.

"How would you feel about being turned into another species against your will, leaving behind everything that feels good and right and comfortable about your human body? That sounds horrible, right? That's how I feel, being nonhuman in a human body, and it's distressing in the same way you would hate being human and stuck in a nonhuman body."

I know that the gap between humanity and nonhumanity looks enormous. The horror of, say, werewolf mythology looks like a completely alien experience when you are a wolf, so you see being transformed into a wolf as nothing short of a wonderful experience, and you don't understand why anyone would see it as horrifying.

But if you understand that it's not about the species, but the experience of species dysphoria, of being trapped in a body that has never been yours and desperately trying to return to one that feels like you, well - that's a lot more understandable, isn't it?

Humanity and nonhumanity are not two opposite ends of a binary, destined to never understand each other. I know many alterhumans who are both human and nonhuman, and their humanity is an identity in much the same way as their nonhumanity. Humans are just another species on this planet, as bipedal tool-using social primates, and we have our species identities just like many nonhumans. You are not as alone in this world as you might think you are.

There is room for understanding and connection. Your experiences as nonhuman are not purely individual, not wholly unique, not utterly incomprehensible to human beings, and this is a good thing. The gap isn't actually as wide as it seems. You can reach out and cross it if you just remember - you have far more in common than you might think.

[hamelin-born]

I'm suddenly thinking about an AU where all Lucis Caelums are literally dragons trapped in human form.

Like, the very first Lucis Caelum was a literal dragon that Bahamut forced into a human-appearing shape. (Bahamut's reasoning: Humans are icky, and he wasn't going to let them be the ones to carry out his precious prophecy. Dragons are so much better.) And it's bred true in the bloodline ever since.

(...huh, this also has the potential to curse every single Lucis Caelum with varying degrees of dysphoria.)

But when the final days of the prophecy come nigh, when Ardyn is free to scream fire as he sunders his human skin and surges skywards -

When Noctis sunbathes in black scales, reveling in the absence-of-pain that has haunted him ever since the Marlinth's claws tore through unarmored skin -

When Regis tosses his cane to one side, feeling unaccustomed strength pulse in his veins as something clicks into place -

Well, Bahamut. There will be a reckoning.

@sparklecryptid @angelrider13 @charlottedabookworm

[pupsicle-paws]

Hi guys. I made a reddit post explaining my experience with being an alterhuman (therian)

Can someone please read into it and help me?

It all feels so surreal. It's like I'm going through figuring out I'm trans all over again, all the confusion, the want, the agony, the pain, the anger, it's all too much right now, especially since it's so much more confusing than just gender.

It's something I feel like only I have experienced and it makes me feel so alienated.

I feel so utterly alone

Edit; reddit is being weird so here's the text;

Species dysphoria?

Hi, I'm a newly awakened alterhuman or therian to be specific.

I'm just a bit worried because my experience feels so much more powerful and effective than other therians I've seen.

I know its oversaturated online, and it's so much more complex than it's portrayed, but with how it affects me, I just feel like I'm so much different than the other people in my own community, like I don't even belong.

I guess it's because being an alterhuman and feeling inhuman just affects me so much and takes such a nasty toll on my mental well being that u can't help but feel like I was cursed to have it harder than others.

I'm not too into lycanthropy, and by what I mean by that is that I'm not as knowledgeable on it than therianthropy and the like. But it sounds almost appealing to me, like it's something I can resonate with but it also doesn't sound like me at all.

My experience with my body, with dysphoria, dysmorphia, it's all been hell for me and I can't find any thing to soothe myself.

So if anyone can help, give me advice, lead me in the right direction, for someone to tell me I'm normal and not insane, please do so.

Here, I'm going to say what I feel and what's been developing over the years;;

So when I was younger, I may or may not have shown signs of some neurodivergancy of some kind. I'm not sure what I have, could be autism, could be just me being weird, who knows. But I definitely didn't grow out of some of my weird kid habits. It's always been a struggle for me to grow up in general and let go of childish things. That's probably why I still have stuffed animals in my bed at nearly 18 years old.

But I'm getting ahead of myself, anyways, I used to feel very strong urges to be like an animal as a kid. It's normal kid stuff, yeah, but it never went away. Over the years it turned into wearing blotchy fursuits and meowing at my teachers and pretending to wag my invisible tail to me having extreme delusions.

Now, it's not just a silly kid thing. It's something, a thing, a creature inside of me that's angry at my body and that nothing lines up.

I feel like im going crazy the longer I deal with this, like every year passes by and I become more and more aware of how everything's wrong and nothing is perfect or even near that. I used to be able to deal with it, it was fine years ago when I was 15 and happy with myself. I understood that I had a spiritual body inside of me that didn't match up, but I didn't realize it'd haunt me later on and I'd become insane over the fact that it's all wrong.

It all feels like gender dysphoria, which I do deal with as a trans man. But instead of just being my gender and how my organs and body parts and voice and whatever don't line up with being masculine like I want, it's everything all at once.

My eyes, my hair, my legs, my feet, my nails, my teeth, my jaw, my arms, everything. Just from head to toe, everything is misshapen beyond beleif and I don't understand why I feel this way.

I can't snarl or growl like I want, I can't move my ears at the sound of a noise far away, I can't wag or curl my tail, I can feel my wings move on my back, I can't retract my claws, I can't see in the dark.

All my human senses, all my human feelings don't overlap with my animalistic ones. Whatever being is inside of me is constantly in a state of distress, anger, anxiety, sorrow, all because I'm a human in a human body.

It's like some evil celestial being put the soul of everything inhuman into a human body and told them to pretend to like it when it's just agony to deal with.

I'm in agony and it won't go away.

This thing inside of me is hurt.

[wangxianficfinder]

Wei Wuxian keeps / gets his OG body 

~*~

inhabiting bodies by thelastdboy (E, 2k, WangXian, Porn With Plot, Minor Injuries, WWX in MXY's Body, Body Dysphoria, Kinda, WWX in WWX's Body, Curses, Night Hunts, Scars, Light Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Light Dom/sub, Emotional Sex, Edgeplay, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Ass Play, Rimming, Blindfolds, Anal Sex, Light Masochism, Body Dysmorphia)

Our Scars remind us that the past is real by KatAnni (M, 2k, wangxian, LWJ & LSZ & WWX, WWX & JC, WIP, post-canon, curse breaking, scars, pre-relationship, getting together, case fic, whump, angst w/ happy ending, hurt WWX, memories, PTSD, WWX in MXY’s body, rogue cultivator WWX, JC & WWX reconciliation, not actually unrequited love)

worm moon by serein (E, 103k, WangXianCheng, Post-Canon, Mystery, Angst, Humor, Grief/Mourning, PTSD, Identity Issues, eventual polyamory, Cults, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied past cannibalism, Switching, Doppelganger, POV Alternating, Character Study, Explicit Sexual Content, Reverse Golden Core Reveal, mild horror elements)

Twin Demons of Mò by XiaoFeiFei (M, 358k, MXY & WWX, WangXian, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Injury, Abuse, Twin Demons of Mo, MXY Lives, Major Character Injury, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Angst, Minor Character Death, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Minor Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Torture, Near Death, Near Death Experiences, Canon Divergence, Self-Harm, Found Family, Sexual Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, POV Alternating)

Saw My Life in a Stranger's Face by timetoboldlygo (T, 27k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Married Life, Domestic Fluff, Light Angst, wwx's face changes post-canon to look like his original face, Slight Panic Attack, because lwj doesn't recognize his husband, the mortifying ordeal of not knowing your own body, the terrifying inevitability of change, taller!wwx theory)

Basking in the Patriarch's Beauty by sparklingsu (Not Rated, 3k, WangXian, WWX in WWX's Body, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, YLLZ WWX, WWX Deserves Love, Yúnmèng Siblings Bonding, Post-JC & WWX Reconciliation, Hurt/Comfort)

Pretty Patriarch by Clever_spring (G, 2k, WangXian, Protective LWJ, YLLZ WWX, WWX in WWX's Body, Good Nephew JL, Protective LSZ, Protective JL)

Touch That Body, (It's Not Mine) by brrrrrRawr (T, 3k, WangXian, WWX in WWX's original body, Fluff, Pet Names, Blushing, No Smut, Genius WWX, yunmeng bros reconciliation, endgame lotus pier, big bro wwx rights, also dad wwx rights, BAMF WWX, Bad Writing, Body Dysphoria, So OOC)

~*~

Resurrected by someone other than MXY

~*~

❤️ Beauty and the Boot by PTchan (T, 44k, wangxian, summoned by f!oc, Canon Divergence, Romantic Comedy, Genderbending, Denial, Fem!WWX, WangXian kids, Crack-ish, WIP)

❤️ The Book’s Cover by Eudoxia (E, 50k, wangxian, canon divergence, WWX not in MXY’s body, canon retelling, humor, demisexual LWJ, genderqueer WWX, smut)

You still sound like a song by Moominmammashandbag (M, 64k, wangxian, WIP, Ghost!WWX, Mystery, LWJ plays inquiry, AU from after the Wens came to Lotus Pier, Most people lived, not everybody died, Angst with a Happy Ending, river spirit!WWX, Angst and Feels, description of murder, imminent smut, Execution, bad dog names, Poisons, Discussion of Attempted Murder, BAMF WWX, Family Feels)

the problem with authority by isabilightwood (M, 139k, wangxian, qingli, Canon Divergence, Sacrifice Summon, slightly dark!JYL, wq lives because i said so, Angst with a Happy Ending, Chronic Pain, Mild Sexual Content, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch WangXian, manipulative relationship (background xiyao))

Misunderstood by Silver_Flame_2724 (M, 250k, WIP, WangXian, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Heavy Angst, Suicidal Thoughts, Canon-Typical Violence, Self-Worth Issues)

❤️ The One-Body Problem by metisket (T, 29k, LJY & WWX, LJY & LSZ, wangxian, possession, cohabitation) - briefly summoned by OC's and gets stuck in LJY's head but then gets summoned by mxy

So You Want to Start a War by JaenysBloodcourt (T, 41k, WIP, MY/QS, MY/WWX, WangXian, Reincarnation, Half-Sibling Incest Mention!, QS does the ritual instead of MXY, WWX as a woman, MY Is His Own Warning, Canon Divergence, Impersonation, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Please check the notes before reading a chapter, Timeline What Timeline, WWX Has PTSD)

Chapter 1-23 of The Tales of Despereaux by stiltonbasket (T, 36k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, (when applicable))

To Deserve So Much More by renysen (T, 19k, wangxian, getting together, one big happy family, no angst, getting engaged, family feels, female bodied WWX)

A Worse Timeline Series by donutsweeper (T, 2k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Lots of People Die, Canon-Typical Violence, Revenge, Non-Mo Xuanyu Summoning Ritual, Worse Timeline, Character Death, Dark, WWX brought back by JC.)

Everyanything by deliciousblizzardshark, lingeringdust (E, 46k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Franken-canon, Gender Identity, Gender Dysphoria, Trans WWX, Protective LWJ, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Canon-Typical Misogyny, Fluff and Angst, Vaginal Sex, Canon-Typical Major Character Death)

若有来世，你还愿意吗; if there is an afterlife, are you still willing? by luyepiaofeng (T, 5k, WangXian, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Self-Sacrifice, Rituals, Self-Indulgent, Hurt No Comfort, WWX brought back by LWJ)

for you, all for you 「 给你, 都给你 」 by headBONDmeLWJ (T, 3k, WangXian, LXC & LWJ, Canon Divergence, LWJ/WWX in Love, WWX Loves LWJ, LWJ Has Feelings, Pining LWJ, Hurt LWJ, WWX-centric, Hurt WWX, Supportive LXC, Good Sibling LXC, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, WWX brought back by LWJ)

who uses the sacrificial array next? Series by ryneisaterriblefan (Not Rated/T, 6k, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Suicide, Self-Harm, Depression, Misunderstandings, Unhappy Ending, soul sacrificial array, Self-hatred)

Five People Who Never Summoned Wei Wuxian by EHyde (G, 2k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, 5+1 Things, Angst, [Podfic] Five People Who Never Summoned Wei Wuxian by sisi_rambles)

Plans fly out the window by English is my death (Lena013) (T, <1k, JGY/QS, JGY/WWX, LWJ & WWX, JC & WWX, reincarnation, canon divergence, QS does the ritual, YLLZ WWX, impersonation) inspired by So You Want to Start a War by JaenysBloodcourt

The Housewife's Guide to Causing Chaos by dvasva (M, 127k, WIP, WangXian, Canon-Typical Violence, Functionally Trans Character, Mild Sexual Content, Domestic Fluff, Love Confessions, Transphobia, Good Parents LWJ and WWX, Pining, WWX is a Tease, Grief/Mourning, Body Dysphoria, Fake Marriage, Canonical Character Death, Misunderstandings, Doting LWJ, Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, WWX is not in MXY's body, Misgendering, Mild Angst, Assumptions, Comedic Elements, non-sexual nudity, Blood, Discussion of Various Bodily Functions, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, 4 years of mourning instead of 13, Méishān Yú Sect, POV Multiple, Corporal Punishment, Trans WWX, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, pregnancy mention, Timeline What Timeline, Sexual Harassment Threats)

[yonemurishiroku]

Hi there! Not sure if you did this before, but how about some really angst Nico fics?

You have come to right place.

Actually no I don't think so. I mean. Literally 90% of my blog is just angst. What type of angst are we talking about here bc I have many from all ratings and pairings you're not making this easy---

I guess I'd just put some general thing here...?

Spare the Rod by GwendolynStacy: Nico-centric, Demeter curses Nico, forcing him to obey whatever the others say and also rendering him helpless to ask for help. It's straight-up a bunch of angst. Gods Nico needs a hug. This hurts me physically. Oh boy.

and the fierce reluctance of disastrous stars by nottesilhouette: Nico encoutering Luke's ghost in Tartarus.

Healing the Dark series by anxiousastronaut18 (Solangelo, TW: Self-harm, Physical Assault, Suicidal thoughts... the whole bunch)

Not Yet Living, But Not Quite Dead by altar_boy (Jasico, trans ftm Nico, Unexpected Pregnancy): This focuses largely on Body Dysphoria and let me tell you this fic is heavy. Like. It took me a while to finish it bc the topic, the writing... it makes me have to put down my phone and breathe for a while bc otherwise I'd just keep crying. Nico goes through so much. It feels like a dead-end sometimes. Proceed with caution, but overall I'd say it's a good fic!

The first time, the last time by Joana789 (hints of Jasico): Nico dies.

Your Life in Reverse series by wewhofightmonsters (One-sided Percico, later reciprocated). My fav is actually Fire Bringer which takes Prometheus' POV telling Percico's story. I cried.

The Most Beautiful Sound I've Ever Heard by ewtp (Solangelo): A bunch of angst. Will's trying to help.

Dreams by Phelpsgirlxxx: Nico's in pain and Apollo wants to help.

Dream a Little Dream of Me by LacyFairgold: Again, angst. But at least they're trying.

playin' peek-a-boo with the devil these days by antlsepticeye: Nico finds out Jesus is really and that he was abandoned all this time. Catholic!Nico I think?

I'm so sorry if this feels like a jumble but srsly I have a lot bookmarked and it's hard to dig all up without a clear instruction on what to find. 😭😂😂 And I mean like the PJOverse itself is pretty much a Hurt/Comfort work for Nico anw, as if House of Hades isn't painful enough----

Nevertheless, hope you have a good time reading!!!

[dumbpuppycatgirl]

how do I tell if I’m trans

(sorry your my only transfem moot (I think))

Short answer:

I know because being a girl(-adjacent being) makes me happy. Moving towards happiness helped me (even though i sabotage myself at every step every day)

See also:

https://amitrans.org/

https://turn-me-into-a-girl.com/

https://genderdysphoria.fyi/en

My full story under the cut:

My story starts in 2020, like so many modern trans stories do, when i was stuck online and found a new community where someone came out as trans. I asked her a lot of questions and she told me to experiment.

So i experimented, i bought skirts and other clothing online; bought like an anime school girl outfit because idk cute?

I started pretending to be a girl on reddit and discord when i joined a large overwatch server under a mew account, trying out several names.

On reddit i also started looking into trans memes and started reading experiences of trans people.

Within a few months i had made a first decision for myswlf really sternly: i do not want to be a guy.

I started talking about it with my therapist and she was very helpful and supportive.

The community i joined at the start of this story i found more friends and more queer friends and we were joking around having fun.

A real life friend bought some make up for me when i talked with her about me questioning, which was very nice but even 3 years later i have barely actually used any of it. I am terrified of make up, and hate seeing my face. Always hated seeing my face.

In my reading and relating to trans stories i stumbled upon the three websites linked above. The genderdysphoria bibke eslecially was extremely helpful.

After making that first decision around december 2020 and getting help from resl life people around early 2021 it still took forever to answer "if not a man, then what?" Im not sure i have the answer now. What i have figured out now that i have tried make up, wear more femme clothing, go by a fem name and changed my legsl gender is that im generally much happier being a woman.

Im not sure im a woman, or at least maybe not always, but "woman" is much much closer to what i 'am' than "man", if that makes sense.

During the second half of my questioning phase, when i read the dysphoria bible, i started realising that mayyyybe there were hints during my childhood... wanting to play a girl character during the one singular open theatre day i attended when i was like 11 or so might have been a clue.

I realised that my obsession with TF-TG comics was not a cis thing lmao. I realised that men generally dont feel "cursed" to have the body they have.

I did make some changes to my body over time, though, as i started living on my own also in 2020 to be a student i had much more freedom to do things secretly. Bought jewelry to wear inside only, and dyed my hair, which was amazing.

During the summer of 2021, my cousin got married, and i had to wear a suit, of course, which felt painful. Cementing my not wanting to be a man feeling. Dead eye smile all the way.

Later that year i had some talks with my brother about feeling so extremely limited in my choices for clothing and expression and what not and that being a man felt like a prison. He was very nice about it and said that clothing is not gendered if youre not a coward. I liked that a lot.

Soon after i came out as trans fem to my close online friends (none of who were surprised). Meer my now boyfriend that winter and everything was great.... except no one irl knew.

Still took me 3 months to come out to my neighbours (student living so i spent a lot of time with them) and my family. Both coming out messages were sent over WhatsApp at like 2 am and turned off my phone and locked the door. Coming out is hard.

Since then, now 2.5 years later, it had not been all roses and sunshine. But it has been better. I started to feel like i was a person, i started being able to think about a future, beyond extremely surface level, "guess, I'll get a job somewhere and get s house idk". My dad remarked that i stood much more upright when wearing my dress than when boymoding.

My parents luckily took it extremely well, they kinda also had to, as since my coming out my 2 brothers have also been fruity lmao. Within 6 months my family went from "good christian family with 3 sons" to having a trans girl, a gay and a femboy. Im still convinced my mom is an egg. I like my queer family.

Anyway, moral of the story is this: experiment and do what makes you happy. I still dont know how to label myself completely but that is also not too important. Im much happier with myself now than before.

[catgirlforeskin]

can you please stfu about forcemasc? 

i'm transfem and it has been a kink of mine FOR SEVERAL YEARS (mostly inside my head as fantasies because i was too afraid to verbalize it and share it with anybody [and with the way other transfems like you demonize it, i see why i kept these fantasies to myself for so long :/], and the recent boom in its popularity does make me happy, even if it comes from transmascs and not my own demographic. 

forcefem does nothing for me because i have been naturally feminine from a young age and openly displayed that femininity. unlike many other transfems, i never repressed my femininity and i refused to conform to standards of cishetero male masculinity. so the "force" part just turns me off, because there's no erotic appeal to forcing femininity on myself as a "release" for me. because i have been openly feminine since i could talk. 

however, from a young age, i did end up brewing a bitter resentment towards masculinity and men, mostly as a result of how boys and men treated me for refusing to be masculine and being feminine as an amab. 

i was already non-masculine by default, but their abuse and scorn as a reaction to that only made me despise masculinity and all things male even more. 

even though i don't believe misandry is real, i began calling myself "misandrist" and adopted radfem-lite beliefs (unsupervised internet access as a kid is a blessing and a curse at the same time). 

i began hating boys and men so much, which soon caused me a great deal of pain, because when puberty arrived, i discovered i was sexually and romantically attracted to them. 

this contradiction of being attracted to boys/men, but also hating them because i believed they were inherently cruel violent mean and evil caused me SO MUCH PAIN as a teenager, on top of the dysphoria i was already struggling with (luckily i had a pretty weak puberty but i was still dysphoric about my height). i felt like a hypocrite and a pathetic coward for falling in love with the same people who tormented me since i was a kid, because i thought all boys/men were violent and evil by default, because i thought that was what it meant to be a boy/man.  

what does this have to do with forcemasc?  

forcemasc is a fantasy for me. it's therapeutic for me. it makes me feel more comfortable in my skin. 

it's a "release" for me in the sense that enables me to let go of these unhealthy, hateful beliefs i've held since i was a child (which only end up hurting me), and also feel at peace and more accepting of my attraction to men, as well as discover new sides to who i am. 

the idea of trusting a partner enough and us being intimate enough for me to allow him to make me explore a more masculine side of myself when i am with him is a very powerful fantasy to me. not only do i feel at ease with his natural masculinity, but also with myself uncovering different aspects of my being which are masculine. and both of us are being masculine together in that moment and deepening our relationship that way, even though he is a man and i am still a trans woman. i trust him enough to display a more masculine side of myself around him. 

because imo, most people, regardless of gender, have both feminine and masculine traits. and even if i am 99% feminine and was completely avoidant of masculinity my entire life, the "forcemasc" kink is all about connecting with that 1% and deepening my bond with my male partner in the process.

you're a transbian so you don't understand it, but guess what? some of us are straight. some of us like men. i really hope that isn't what upsets you so much.

transfem experiences are not monolithic. even if i'm the only transfem in the world who likes forcemasc (which i highly doubt, but whatever), i deserve a space for my fantasies.

please don't rain on my parade.

I think “forcemasc” is a psyop to get more people to play Overwatch or something what even is this why are people suddenly yelling at me about it. I don’t care if people wanna have sex with cargo shorts on and fuck through the zipper.

That being said, straight sex is an unforgivable sin and any caught practicing it should be tied to the backs of horses and dragged through gravel

[superkirbylover]

Hi, I heard that you are transmasc.

If that's true, do you have any gender dysphoria?

i am transmasc! and hm. hard question to answer! not for any personal or loaded reasons, but i don't usually think of my dysphoria very often. most of it is like... "man, i wish i didn't have giant tits sometimes." it sucks because some days i think it's fine and i don't mind it, but on most days i'd just rather not have em. they give me a lot of back pain, and sometimes i miss being able to have my shirt off before i hit female puberty. unfortunately god cursed me with the milf body: big tits and big hips

i've always been masculine leaning in how i present myself. it doesn't mean i hate feminine appearances for myself, but i have a lean. you know that type of summer dad fit, where they have cargo shorts and a button-up pattern t-shirt? yeah, that's my kind of shit. dresses for women can be nice, but a lot of them don't really fit how i feel. i've also just never been a skirt person, so that probably plays into it.

my mom and i have always been tomboys when it comes to how we present ourselves, but when i got popular on scratch and people had debates on what my gender was, i started out correcting them but slowly stopped doing it. i didn't know why, but i liked being referred to with he/him pronouns. i liked that i could be referred to with both. when i started discovering queer identities, when i found out that you could be referred to with she/he/they, it was a dream come true. i didn't have to leave behind my connection with my femininity, i could keep it on top of adopting a masculine and androgynous identity too!

a few years ago i debated on if i was fully transgender, so i tried out he/him only with some friends. turns out, i missed being referred to with she/they as well! sometimes i doubt my identity, especially since i don't really experience dysphoria outside of not wanting Boobs, but then i remember that and all is well

there's been times where i've had transphobia directed my way, where my stalker/doxxer would say i'd be buried as a woman and not a man and it's like... ok? cool? i'm a woman. i'm also a man. i'm whatever you headcanon me to be

... whoops, that was long. hope that answered LMAO

[thesiblingsoftheblackandwhite]

[[CLAUSTROPHOBIA, PAST ABUSE, NAKED BODIES, DISCOMFORT WITH GENITALIA, GENDER DYSPHORIA (?)]]

The hair was the easiest part.

Wiggly yanks his fingers through his curls, wincing when they catch on harsh knots. He mutters curse words as that, mixed with the consistent leg pain, makes doing this harder. He’d been forced to sit on the cold and filthy shower tile, unable to hold his own weight. Droplets of water fell over his bare legs, prickling all over in a somewhat painful manner. Wiggog takes in sharp breaths as he scrubs his scalp with too much force. He had long since closed his eyes; partly due to how the shampoo burned, and partly to avoid looking at…things.

Mmf-

He tugs at his soapy hair a few times. It doesn’t help, but he keeps a hand firmly pulling the strands down just in case it might. The water sliding over his more sensitive area tickles uncomfortably. Wiggly squirms away, but he’s backed up as far as he can. Which is truly unfortunate, since it leaves very little room for Tinky.

Trapped is what T’noy Karaxis is.

He cannot breathe. The shower steam is thick and clogging, but that can’t be the only cause. His chest heaves painfully as he regrettably presses his naked form against the frigid tile. Tinky feels himself trembling. The cold crawls over his skin, making goosebumps and nausea crop up. Despite his brother being right there with him - He would never leave him with any type of company. Company meant comfort - Tinky can’t focus on him. He doesn’t take his eyes away from the tiny, tiny, space in front of him. The only reason his feet were fixed to the wet ground was because Wiggog would eventually need him. For his legs.

Water runs down Tinky’s form. It’s…different. The Box was never like this. Its yellow color often blinded him. The tiles here were an off-white. This couldn’t be the Box.

The thought of the Bastard’s Box decidedly does not help either way. He remembers the shock of skin on cold walls as he waited for forgiveness, similar to the shower tiles. And now he was stuck in it again, due to his own foolishness. The shower head spews out water in a constant hum that hurts Karaxis’ ears. The buzz of suffocating quiet. If he runs, he won’t get far. He never does. Why was he here? What had he done now? Escape route. That’s what he needed - a way to get out. Where could he-

Tinky.

Wiggly. Wiggog Y’wrath. Tinky’s eyes dart to him. His form is unfamiliar. But it is still obviously him. Why was he on the floor? Why did he look wet?…Why was T’noy also wet? What-

We can’t take long. Here. Wash your hair.

Y’wrath holds up a shampoo bottle that had been resting next to him. Tinky trails his hand. Slowly, he takes it, unsticking himself from the wall.

What…?

T’noy watches himself spurt some shampoo onto his hand. It’s cold. He rubs it in his hair with clear confusion. Wiggly is still washing his own hair; Tinky tries following his technique.

No, not like that. Come here-

Cramping together, T’noy lets Wiggog assist him in proper hair washing, having to kneel a little to reach his height. He’s reminded that Wiggly can’t stand up. He needs help washing his legs. That’s why Karaxis was still here, quietly panicking.

There.

…Mm. Thanks.

Tinky had seen naked bodies before. Ted Spankoffski’s, specifically. But those were mostly covered by sheets during acts of intimacy. And Karaxis had never exactly stuck around for the “aftercare” portion. Not that he suspected there ever was such a thing with Ted. He had never seen a body get cleaned. Just seen it ‘in use’.

Tinky…?

A foot nudges his ankle. Wiggog looks at him with creased, worried, brows. T’noy jumps, gripping the slippery bar of soap so that it doesn’t fall.

…Yeah. Workin’ on it.

But Tinky’s own body was different. It wasn’t his body - none of the forms he took really were. Much less this one, which had been thrust upon him by their…

Fuck.

He rubs the bar of soap over his chest. His arms move mechanically, unsure of themselves. The soap sticks to his skin oddly. The feeling is awful. It makes the goosebumps worsen.

The…piece of flesh on his lower body is difficult to look at. He doesn’t even try. It sticks outward unapologetically between his thighs, wrinkled and slack. Karaxis knows that it’s supposed to look like that, but it feels uncomfortable. He rubs it down with soap with closed eyes and cringes away when he touches it. It looks and feels gross and improper.

…You ready?

He gratefully ignores the discomfort bubbling below his skin. T’noy finishes rinsing his body and hair, squeezing into another half-sitting position to look Wiggly over, soap in hand. Y’wrath carefully nods.

OK. Deep breath.

He grabs his leg lightly, lathering it with soap.

Ach-

The pressure burns. Wiggly tries to kick away, but the small space and the grip Tinky has on his ankle prevents that. He sucks in breath, tears forming.

I’ve got you. Almost done.

Karaxis moves to the other leg, making quick work of soaping it down. Soothing his brother is familiar. Comforting, even. He wasn’t able to do that when he was trapped.

Now we rinse.

He’s narrating for Y’wrath’s sake. Mostly.

Do you need…uh, help with the hair, too?

Wiggog shrugs, picking at the back of his hand. He nods faintly.

‘K. Head back.

Y’wrath follows instructions to avoid soap in his eyes again. The feeling of water running through his hair is admittedly really nice. If it were not for the discomfort regarding everything else, he might enjoy the shower.

Done?

…Sure.

The shower turns off.

[cebwrites]

what crawls beneath - dysphoria (Penguin, Zoro)

sorry to come back with such a heavy note lovelies, the rough times aren’t over yet and ya boi needs to string these icky feelings into something lest i explode- i can’t promise i’ll return with more super soon, but i’ll try to make the next one not as sads >< HUGE content warning to all those this may apply to under the cut - there will be mentions of: dysphoria, misgendering, misogyny, menses blood and the (specifically transmasc) discomfort of being subjected to a cycle every month

if these are things you feel may be upsetting to you feel free to skip this one!! i’ve got loads of other prompts in my masterlist that are way more light-hearted and fun, please take care of yourselves first and foremost y’all (っ´ω`)ﾉ(╥ω╥)

no reader, transmasc Penguin and Zoro (separate) word count: 1.2k

Penguin

Penguin is the oldest out of their little ragtag team from the North Blue - only a year ahead of Shachi when it was just the two of them, but older nonetheless. There was a certain expectation that came along with that title, to be a protector, a provider, how the people around him were taught to be men. 

Once Law and Bepo came along, his responsibilities only mounted. That would change as Law’s crew gained more members and duties were split more evenly, but Penguin would always be the one that everyone could count on. One of the vital gears keeping his captain’s ship afloat.

So it was only more salt in the wound that once every month, at least in the beginning, he was reduced to shaking like a leaf in some quiet corner of the Tang whenever his cycle chose to rear it’s foul, dripping head.

Pain was never much of an issue for Penguin; all things considered, he thinks his cramps err on the mild side. It was the blood that he couldn’t stand.

Blood that stained his sheets at the tender age of eleven that made his dad awkwardly stand in the doorway, trying to hide discomfort, while his mother cheerfully reassured him that this was a natural part of growing up and how she was so happy that she’d be able to do more mother-daughter things with him; blood that got Penguin yelled at by Shachi’s wicked aunt and uncle for soiling what clothes they were ‘charitable’ enough to lend these disheveled kids in exchange for hard, back-breaking labor. He’d be forced to wash the stains out by hand afterwards.

Penguin was cursed with the misfortune of torturous 7 day cycle and a heavy flow throughout. Part of him resented the choice for the crews’ uniform to be all white but they had a strong enough cleaning agent to rid their clothes of regular blood stains, so Penguin didn’t complain. Still, the crimson would continue to haunt him.

He’s a pirate god damn it and even before this, Penguin had committed the level of violence you’d expect from someone engaging in criminal activity with Shachi under threat from the latter’s aunt and uncle. No blood from those arguably nastier acts had ever bothered him like this, though. 

None of the thugs he’d left to frostbite could ever upset Penguin as much, could make him feel as dirty as sitting alone in the bathroom, avoiding as much eye contact as possible with the mirror, also trying not to look at the red between his legs as he attempted to change out of his old pad into a new one as quietly as possible.

The rational part of his brain knows that none of this makes him any less of a man, his captain’s voice tells him loud and clear, along with Shachi’s reassurance and Bepo’s kind offers of physical comfort - but his head always gets like this when the blood moon rolls around - clouds all their good intentions with nonsense he’d promised to toss long ago and leaves him a shell by the end of the week; and exactly why Penguin’s all the more grateful for the space, patience and understanding his crew affords him until he’s willing to let them in again.

Zoro

Zoro, for a lack of a better term, has always flown by the seat of his pants. He’s never cared for semantics and as far as he’s concerned - doesn’t have the time. Always looking for that next step, the next hurdle that would bring him closer to becoming The Best.

He vividly remembers the shades of red that danced across his vision from Kuina’s words that day. 

“Pretty soon you’ll be stronger than me...”

Lies, they were. All of those bitter, angry words Kuina parroted through tears because she’d heard them innumerable times before. They weren’t true! Kuina was brave, she was smart, she was collected, she was everything Zoro wanted to be and yet - if Kuina of all people would never be enough in the eyes of these people, her own father and his master, what exactly did that make Zoro?

He trained all throughout the night, infuriated by Kuina’s treatment, yet another loss at her hands, and what the implications meant for him but having none of the words to articulate his thoughts so he did what he could by slashing bamboo against wood until he lost sensation in his tiny, ten year old hands.

Until the numbness spread across his entire body when the news of Kuina’s death reached him, her cruel fate seemingly devised by a vindictive hand rang in his ears as Zoro belligerently screamed about their promise at her wake, drawing eyes and mouths directly to him, away from her death, so abrupt in the face of all her dreams, her aspirations, it was almost laughable how unfair, indifferent fate could be if it didn’t fill him with an infernal rage.

Shamelessly, Zoro begged Koushiro for Kuina’s sword, promising to fulfill both of their dreams in one fell swoop. Something lurched deep in his stomach at how easily the old man gave it up - his daughter’s beloved blade. That feeling of unease followed him until Zoro left the island, hoping to leave the bits of his unsightly past and only carry what was needed, her spirit and their goal, to the future.

Of course, that was easier said than done.

Through every step of the way, it felt like his body was betraying him and Zoro had no recourse. Zoro was a later bloomer than most, so though it was easy enough to coast by living in the dojo with nothing more than simple binding, things got more and more difficult with the changes puberty brought as the date that he’d set out to sea drew closer.

Zoro never told his peers nor Koushiro anything, given the circumstances. Plus, he’d be lying if Zoro said that he didn’t harbor at least a bit of resentment for how the old man and the village treated his late daughter in life and death, disrespecting her memory even till the end. So they’d remain in the dark about him, even with all the fond memories Zoro had of Shimotsuki village, none of them ever saw Kuina for her and he doubted that if the truth came out they’d ever see him for him, either.

Sometimes when he’s alone and his thoughts quiet down, Zoro wonders if Kuina had enough time, would she come to the same conclusions that he had about his gender, his identity, who he wanted to be in spite of similar the suffocating boxes of ‘womanhood’ they were both born into. These thoughts only ever last for a moment before Zoro shakes his head, he prays, puts out an offering to any nearby altars or makes one if none are available - an apology for speculating about the deceased, but most importantly his friend.

Nothing like that mattered anymore.

Through hell, high water, and any two-bit god that dared stand in his way, Zoro would carve out what it meant to be a man - the World’s Greatest Swordsman - on his own terms. 

[gl00my-b0y-1]

i dont wanna be trans.

(TW: Vent, dysphoria, transphobia, sa?)

I hate that everything i do is automatically consider feminine even thought its not. When someone is nice to me i think its just because im a girl but if someone is mean to me i also think thats because im a girl. My whole life revolves around gender and i hate it so fvcking much, its so tiring that i have to try so hard to be seen as who i am. Being trans ruined my everything, my self esteem, my confidence, my personality, my ability to be happy without worring about being consider girly or feminine. Only one person doesn't missgener me all the time but i cant help but think they also dont see me as a boy just like evryone else. I hate being sexualised because of my body, why does my classmates act like im a wh0re. Everyone does it all the time. Why? I try so much to not look or act feminine as much as i can but i still fail. Its pathetic. Some people say that its just gender and it doesnt really make a diffrence so i can just be cis. No, everything in my life is about gender, passing, being masc enough. I've lost myself in it. I dont know if my feelings are real or is it just my dysphoria ad urge to be like a real boy. But i will never be a real boy. No matter how many surrgeries i could get i will still be diffrent. I will never fully belong to boys but i will also never fully belong to girls. I dont belong anywhere. I am alone and no one supports me, and no one will love me. And even if someone would love me its just because they see me as a girl or i am fet1sh to them. I hate getting so happy just because someone call me he instead of she, its so pathetic, after all its just a pronoun right? I hate relying my hapiness on other people calling me a he. No matter what i do i will never be like a cis boy, I will never pass half as good as other trans boys. I hate getting naseous every signle time i am forced to speak because my voice is so high pitched and annoying. I hate being so weak and fragile and being told i cant do something because im a girl. I dont wanna be a girl, I try so hard to be a real boy so why cant anyone see it? I dont wanna be around cis people because when i do i feel like all my feminine traits are even more vissible. I hate that cis people deserve to be so comfortable with their sex. What did i do to deserve all of this pain? Why some cis boys deserve all of this happiness even though they are complete assh0les and i dont deserve it? Why do i have to work so hard for something others have since they were born? I swear to god i would be so much better person if i was a boy, so why am i not? Why would someone curse me with this shitty body and mind? Why would someone hate other person so much to force them to live like this? to hate themselfes so much?

I dont understend people who say being trans is just a phase, i really wish it was. I wish it all was a choice but it is not and i gonna have to deal with this terrible dysphoria, missgendering, being made fun of every single day for the rest of my life.

I really hate being trans. Nobody deserves it.

[scarletanpan]

..

My next med follow up is in three days and I can’t stop thinking abt legitimately asking to try getting on t…

Yes partially bc I just suffered cramps so bad I got a migraine abt it and couldn’t move for ten hrs yesterday and now feel like I’m on the edge of death and missing liters of blood which isn’t great for anemic bitches

Like ik I should’ve got on birth control yrs ago but I keep forgetting and t has Added benefits imo. And I think suffering through this is almost giving me some weird dysphoria, I haven’t felt actively Wrong like this before but in the past few months since I realized I’m nb anymore cramps feels like a nightmare and a curse. Lowkey they always have I get unreasonably angry and depressed to a comical degree, like fr use to contemplate ending it all just over the pain in high school. They also always happen on a dime once I get my life back together and then I spend the next few weeks picking up the pieces from when I was dead until it hits again and honestly I can’t fucking take it anymore

Idk if my chances of being told yes or no is dependent on the fact that I’m prob also gonna say the adderall isn’t working as effectively anymore I’m just nervous

[princessc2]

Let's talk about Richard's unexpected and unwanted pregnancy and true biological heir in Requiem of the rose king 🤴 from episodes 20-22 which are the must difficult horrible and painful to watch

It's true that in Barao no souretsu there are very hard themes like Violence death, gender dysphoria, child abuse, trauma, sex and even unwanted pregnancy and abortion. Not always a pregnancy and future babies mean happiness and excitement. Sometimes means sadness negativity and uncertainty since a main goal is in jeopardy for example a scholarship and a career, sadly this is the case With our beloved Richard Plantagenet who after some passionate encounters with Buckingham became unexpectedly pregnant and looked such pregnancy as nightmarish due to his supposedly demon nature and as an obstacle for his main goal ( the crown) since everything was going to be over and his life could be in danger. Such attitude is quite different from his other half Buckingham who was quietly happy about the pregnancy and wanted to keep the baby since according to him it was a symbol of their love who unlike Richard who wanted to get rid of child. To which Buckingham chained Richard to bed and him force to wear a dress, telling him that he should stay in the tower and out grew his hair like a veil so they could keep the baby in a very toxic and desperate way. Something Richard was deeply against since he identified as a man not a woman. This is why Buckingham rebels against him even though Richard wanted his other half to flee far away only to turned himself to be executed by the king himself and as it was expected Richard made the abortion through Jane's remedy at the same time he feels so vulnerable and childish that he didn't want that to happen to him with the pregnancy to which Jane just hugged him and said that there was not such thing as life without regrets . I can only think that such attitude is a mirror of teenagers who impulsively give themselves to their lovers recklessly without thinking of the possible consequences of an unexpected pregnancy. How different would have been if the pregnant one was Anne instead Richard since during that times one of the many duties of the king beside ruling and protecting his kingdom was to farther potential heirs to the throne with his queen or consort. Such child would have been Richard's biological son and the true heir to the throne instead of Edward of Middleham since he was Edward of Lancaster's son. Another point is that Cecile's rejection and hatred toward Richard made him hate his body and since he was given a male's name and raised as a boy not a girl the idea of giving birth and becoming a mother was demonic unlikely and absurd. Maybe if Richard wouldn't have been focused on the crown or raised as a woman or he was a female with a normal body he and Buckingham could have keep the baby. Part of me would have wanted for Buckingham and Richard to flee together along with their newborn baby and name Richie or Rose if it was a girl or at least spare the little life inside of him for the sake of Henry since he was going to die and Richard was going to be alone and baby would have been a sweet reminder of his other half instead loneliness coldness and emptiness left behind by Buckingham's death. The saddest part of this is that our Richard's main goal was the crown which he believed to be paradise only to lose it all at the end and to realize that such crown was curse and burden. The whole thing is very cruel awful and heartbreaking and disturbing to the point that I wish for that matter the author would have stay true to the real events or the play not having unnecessary toxic romance and tension Since the political plot death, gore and action were more than enough.

That been said i will love to see what your thoughts are and discuss with me about this topic from barao no souretsu

And also can reblog and coment

[lake-archive]

Track 7 - A Shameful Body

Content Warning!

Gender Dysphoria

If this makes you uncomfortable, I advise you to skip this one.

AO3 Link

Fandom: Hypnosis Mic

Character: Ann Wolff (OC)

Synposis: At work Ann gets to talk to other women who seem to be fascinated with the newbie. They all comment on her, specifically her body. That body… Something she hates.

Track 6 - Track List - Track 8

Another important thing to do at work was not just to work hard but to also build up connections, in case you will need someone in near future. It is also important to keep a good reputation. Being known as the ‘obnoxious bitch’ does no one any favors. It was an awful reputation to have… So Ann made sure to hold conversations whenever she could, when the chance presented itself. After all, it should not have been any different when talking to her friends. Just be a little more polite. After all, they were not people she knew for months nor hung out with for a while. They were people at work, people she converses with on a professional basis… Usually. However, there were those days sometimes… The days she hated the most. Those disgusting days where she just wanted to sink into the ground, right at this moment…

“Ann–San, how do you make this messy hair work?” One of the women asked her, eyeing her very carefully, from head to toe. The young woman had a gaze ever so curious yet eager, just wanting to know the answer to this mystery. It was not the worst… Or so Ann liked to think. But it could get only downhill from here…

“Yeah! And your chest… It’s large!” The second woman commented, making sure to point at the topic of interest, making even Ann’s gaze wander down for a moment. It made her remain silent and the blush hidden behind her mask, luckily, as well as the frown starting to form slowly upon that comment. It was just… She didn’t know. It wasn’t something said with ill intent but not something she felt like hearing. Curse that chest… Curse it all.

“Oh yes! It’s pretty large!” Another one laughed, though playfully. “How nice, the guys must like it a lot. Say Ann, do you happen to have a boyfriend?”

Not this again… But she nodded. “Yeah, I do.” 

“Aww, lucky. Then again, if I had your body maybe I would be as lucky~” Ugh, please, shut up… He likes them a bit too much after all and Ann didn’t want to think about that for even a second… This is a rare instance where her face was hidden so at least she could make the fitting grimace upon hearing such words… And the mention of her boyfriend… Wait, why is it so unsettling to begin with? This is a natural assumption, right? This… It's normal, isn’t it?

“Haha, c’mon now. Not everyone is so lucky like Ann. I mean, she makes that mess of a hair work too. It’s a miracle.”

“Yeah, but most guys I know only look at that you see. I think he could care less about anything else.”

“What guys are you hanging out with?”

Ann was silent during all of this, she only listened. And yet she moved her arms up, crossing them beneath her chest which felt tighter than usual. It was painful, suffocating. Yet again a comment on these sacks… These dreaded sacks. Why does she have them? Why was she cursed with such a large sight? No matter what she wore, she could not hide it. They aren’t the largest in the world but they do stick out. Even now… And since they are the topic in this room the two were more obvious than ever… Again.

How can anyone envy her for this is beyond Ann sometimes. Not to mention being reduced to nothing but those two… It’s painful. It was always those things. How she was envied for this. How guys must like them… How her boyfriend must like them… Was this how this worked? Was she supposed to be happy hearing that? 

If she could have she would have run, right then and there. But she had no excuse this time, not during lunch break. She had to endure those comments. Hah, it is just a literal pain. If it was no big deal to chop off these literal sand sacks, she would do it in a heartbeat. Even if she would scream in pain, it was a hella lot better than whatever this conversation was. In fact, if she could become one with the mere ground, she would be swallowed by the surface of earth and her chest alongside it. No, her body. If the earth could just swallow that up. But she had to take it, make this not known. It would be inappropriate if she didn’t. Feel glad about this… But why didn’t she? Why was her brain just not accepting the praise and wanted her to run instead? She literally had to force herself to sit down and stay put after all… 

Even if they didn’t see she forced herself to smile, just for this moment… A light smile. A smile to show that she appreciated those words. Even if it was an act, a lie in some way. And yet, the longer it went on…

“Say Ann, what is your secret? You got these somehow.”

“I want to know too! A young woman with a boyfriend has to know!”

“Hey, would you mind a little more intimate question Ann–San? Just for—”

Ah no! She can’t do it! She absolutely cannot do this! So she stood up in one swoop, looking at the group before saying: “Excuse me. I have a lot of work to do. So I should head back already.”

And not even waiting for a reply she stormed off, almost running. She walked past several other employees, each giving her a confused stare. Yet Ann did not pay any attention to it. She wanted to be alone, just stay somewhere in solitude. So when she finally passed an empty corner and turned in there she fell onto her knees, mask off as she held her mouth with both of her hands.

The urge was there, all too much. Hearing those comments, echoing in her ears… She had the urge built up, being so close… But she didn’t. Instead she only stared onto the ground, eyes wide as she tried to gather her thoughts… 

How can anyone look at her body and say such things? It is a pain, it is just… Terrible. She hated it, every second she had to walk in that damn thing. She was always looked at - Her figure and especially her chest, the one feature sticking out to so many, one of the first comments she received. It’s… Just… 

It’s so ugly! It’s disgusting! That skin, that hair, that face – She asked for nothing of it! She didn’t want it! The chest is too big, the face too soft, the hair too long! It’s a nightmare! But if she switched it up then what? She would get weird looks! Even though she got different kinds of looks… 

She wanted to sulk, the tears almost coming up. But… No, she didn’t, not here. A deep breath and calm down. This will be over. ‘Get yourself together, you have to work! You have obligations to follow!’ That works.The reminder how she is supposed to be! It always works! 

No, it worked… But it didn’t work today. And the day after… And the many other days to come…

Track 6 - Track List - Track 8

[rekas-writes]

Spooktober Day 2: Sweater Weather

Pair: Omen/FtM! Reader Source: Valorant

Type: Drabble - 1298 words Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort Perspective: Second-Person (You/Your)

Summary: Omen knits you a sweater to help ease your dysphoria

TW: Mentions of Dysphoria, binders and spiralling

A/N: I got an Oodie recently and I’ve been lounging in it all day everyday while I play games. Can’t lie, it’s a very nice dysphoria reliever for me and is part of the inspo for this fic haha. Also, for however far I am behind, I’ll be making up for. Don’t worry!

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Today just wasn’t your day… nor was the day before… or the day before that… And thinking about it, you wondered if any day would ever be your day again. 

Tomorrow didn’t exactly fill you with hope, only the lingering dread of having to face the light of day once more, of having to face your draining thoughts and inner voice once more. If you had to describe Dysphoria? It was like a dirt pit. A dark, deep pit that whenever you fought a little harder to climb out, you only found yourself sliding back down to where you started. Maybe a little further. The edges were all loose dirt and slippery gravel, like some corn silo a poor bird would get suffocated in.

It had been a while since you’d faced a wave of emotional aching as painful and as seemingly never-ending as this. The voices pulling you down so viciously were usually quiet enough to ignore; they were easier to rip apart and disprove when you were so confident and proud... But now? When your confidence was shattered so completely by your incessant thoughts and your self esteem felt so brittle and fragile? Now, you only seem to see and remember everything that felt wrong, even when everyone around you seems to only see the best you. The you that looked and felt every bit the man he is.

Your growing discomfort with yourself only made your bad habits emerge louder, ever more apparent. From staying in your dorm, to wearing your binder for far too long, hyper-focusing and pinching at the parts of you you deemed too “unmasculine”. Every little thing felt off, setting your cursed brain off to spiral ever deeper into its own misery and anxiety. It felt so lonely, so isolating. Like another experience that sets you apart from being a “true man”.

But your looming shadow would never let you forget that you were never really alone in the first place, were you?

Though quiet he may be, he was always there. A solid presence that never wavered, even when your Dysphoria threatened to wash you under. Omen is your beacon of comfort during times like these, a symbol of solidarity as he empathises with your plight. Though your struggles differ, he sees the likeness in the way he questions every so often if he was truly more than the endless shadow and void he’s bound as. Whether or not he was deserving of the friendship and love he is shown by you and his allies. If he was truly deserving of the title of your boyfriend, when there were others more human than he who vied to be by your side in the way he was.

But you always shrugged those thoughts off, always looking at him with that content, little smile of yours as you assured him that none could ever replace him. None could warm your heart more than he, the agent with the namesake of imminent catastrophe. In your eyes, he’s so much more human than so many people you’ve seen. You make him believe that he’s worth it. That he is worthy of love when all he believes he is, is a monster.

So he tries his damn hardest to do the same when you feel down. When you feel like everything is against you. Patient, as he encourages you to heal at your own pace. The time he had off-mission was time he spent mostly by your side, no matter how much you tried to convince him you were fine. He’s always been perceptive, especially of you and lying was never your strong suit. You always felt a little guilty whenever he did this, but he stuck by you with such stubborn concern and affection that managed to stifle those gnawing thoughts.

Rousing you from your thoughts, Omen frowns a little (something you recognise as the little constant jitter and wave his blue scars make whenever he’s displeased) as he calls your name seriously, making you flinch a little like a child receiving a scolding, “How long have you been wearing that for?” He points a claw at you, and you only look away guiltily. He always seemed to know when you had it on and when you’d taken it off. You can feel his frown deepen as he shakes his head at your averted eyes, “You’re going to hurt yourself,” he states so matter-of-factly that you can’t seem to find a valid argument. Shuffling with a garment in his lap, he finally addresses the thing you’d been curious about since he’d laid it down. It seemed to have patches of your favourite colour from what you could see of it bunched up.

“I made this for you,” Omen lifts the now seemingly oversized garment up, “to ease your discomfort,” he speaks softly, his posture turning a little more shy and bashful. His hard work and care could be seen in each individual stitch and the various beautiful blends of simple and complex patterns. It’s like a way cooler, comfier version of your baggy hoodies. The ends of the sleeves cinch to make sure your hands are visible and usable under the puffy sleeves without needing to roll them up. You take it with bright, awe-stricken eyes and a wonder-smitten smile, and Omen can feel his core pulse with affection and pride at making you look so happy.

Taking a deep breath in, you enter your bathroom to change- feeling the tight squeezing around your torso ease at last as you finally take your binder off for the day. You’re quick to slide your night shirt and newly acquired knitted sweater on, if only to distract from the growing distress in the back of your mind. Shuffling out, you have a weary smile as you spin around to show your boyfriend his handiwork, “How do I look, love?”

The way the shadows flow laxly upon his form, the bright blue highlights of his face pulsing slowly and contently, he seems like he’s smiling as he regards you. Slowly, he reaches one bandaged hand out carefully- his version of an invitation for affection. You’re quick to answer as you usher yourself into his arms. He takes a moment to relax, still slightly unused to physical contact, before holding you gently in his arms as he mutters,

“Handsome,”

The word takes you off guard, but in a way that makes your heart leap and mouth twitch upwards in a way it hasn’t for so long. It’s a wonderful welcoming change to the discomfort and self-bitterness. His tone lies bare with truth, and it makes your heart clench. You gladly let yourself be held in the Controller’s delicate embrace, closing your eyes like pounds of weight had been eased off of you for once. Like a few chains of many sliding to the floor, finally snapped and broken. You’re almost tearful as he holds you close, yet it portrays all the unspoken love and tenderness all the same. It’s easy to see how much the usually aloof agent cares for you in the quiet actions he makes for you.

Omen mutters a soft proclamation of love for you in your ear, ensuring only you and you alone can hear; your name follows so confidently that you can’t help the watery hiccup and raw sob that forces its way out of your throat. He carefully runs a hand against your back, a comforting touch as he helps you let go of all the pent up emotion bottled up inside. It's just your name but it’s never felt more sweet nor more fitting than when it fell from Omen’s mouth. It’s a reminder that you truly are the man you yearn to be. Always have, always will be.

No matter how hard the climb to inner peace was, you realise maybe…  Just maybe… As your shadow holds you close, perhaps you didn’t have to climb out of your pit alone.