#tw: gender dysphoria

[dr-frankenstein-in-a-maid-outfit]

I don’t really know where to put this, but the fact I am a flesh and blood organism instead of a steel machine is bothering me to the point of feeling like dysphoria. Like, I crave in equal parts to be perceived as a girl and perceived as a robot. I want to be able to take myself apart and put myself back together, or swap out parts based on need. Or have to charge myself. Do maintenance checks. That sort of thing.

Honestly this has me feeling super alone right now and any sort of community that has a similar vibe please reach out.

[aftgficrec]

Some fic with andreil kids, i need that to survive

Our most recent ask for this has all of our previous recs. Enjoy! -A

latest ask:

Andreil & kids here

Kevin and his dads by Monsterputt03 [Not Rated, 646 Words, Complete, 2023]

Kevin's life with Andreil as his parents. 

Want by TheBreadWinner [Rated G, 19938 Words, Incomplete, Updated May 2024]

Andrew and Neil are finally in a position without worries. They have a nice home, money, and dream jobs. What more could they want? Their closest friends and family are raising kids and experiencing something Andrew never pictured wanting. Now, in his thirties, he sees families everywhere: in the stands during games, at the park during his runs with Neil, and in the lobby of New York Presbyterian. Andrew knows what he wants, and he wants it with Neil.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse and neglect, tw: implied/referenced torture

you got the heart without the ache. by PatientIsTheNight [Rated G, 2483 Words, Complete, 2024]

[Andrew] cannot kill every abuser in the world, though it would be nice. More importantly, he knows that he cannot allow himself to be visibly angry, or upset - it would give the wrong idea. He isn’t angry at Kylie, after all, and refuses to give her even half of an inkling of that idea. But he is still angry, in the way a wounded animal is. It takes more than he thought it would to keep himself from hiding in corners and lashing out. - Andrew and Neil foster their first kid, and face how hard it is. It’s a kidfic, you know what you’re getting.

tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Whose Your Daddy Series by chaoticas_hell [Not Rated, Collection, Incomplete, Updated June 2024]

Part 1: Whose Your Daddy [47865 Words, Complete] Andrew Joseph Minyard didn't do regrets. But letting Neil in, allowing himself to want, for letting Neil slip through his fingertips- it was the closest he would get to feeling regret. It had been fourteen years since he last saw Neil, since Neil was taken right from under his grasp by his psycho-killer father and lost forever and Andrew had to make peace with that, had to stop expecting Neil to walk through his front door like he had never left. Except, one day, it all but happened. One day, a small kid with horribly cut short platinum blonde hair, striking blue eyes that plagued Andrew's dreams and nightmares, freckles and an achingly familiar horrible fashion sense showed up at his office door with the strangest question. "Are you Andrew Joseph Minyard, yes or no?" The kid asked in a British accent. Andrew could only nod. "Oh good." The kid said, suddenly unsure of themself. "Cause I think you're my dad." What the fuck?

tw: assumed major character death, tw: implied/referenced torture

Part 2: The Before [11385 Words, Incomplete, Updated June 2024] basically a sequel to my fic Whose Your Daddy taking a look at how Neil dealt with single parenthood, how Andrew faired after Neil's faked death, Jo's abysmal childhood, and judgmental family members

tw: assumed major character death, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: violence, tw: choking, tw: unplanned pregnancy, tw: transphobia, tw: gender dysphoria 

Fragments of Light series by DarkD [Rated G/T, Collection, 2 complete works, Updated Jan 2023]

Part 1: Baby mine [T, 18609 Words, Complete, 2022] Andrew could practically see the image of Neil sleeping on his chest, one of the pairs of shoes he'd bought still lying there in bed with them. Neil looked so peaceful, Andrew couldn't stop looking at him. His hand was right on Neil's belly, he could almost imagine what the girls' heartbeats were like there. Neil had sung a song that night, and Andrew memorized every note because, someday, he would also sing that same song for Neil and his daughters. (They couldn't) be more wanted, they've probably never wanted anything more in their life. “You won't touch any of them again.” Andrew said. His voice was low and his throat hurt. “You're not getting anywhere near my fucking family.”

tw: gun violence, tw: attempted murder, tw: major character injury, tw: blood, tw: unplanned pregnancy, tw: transphobia, tw: self harm, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: destructive thoughts, tw: vomit

Part 2: My dear Nebula [G, 10086 Words, Complete, 2023] “Andrew, Andrew.” Neil whispered in his ear, the warm air against his skin making him shiver. “It's time for our nebula.” ... Neil then asked what a nebula was and he replied: Nebulae were nurseries for stars. Birth of stars. Birth… “Fuck”

tw: unplanned pregnancy, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced murder

Retired by IKnowWhoYouAre_Damianos [Rated G, 1855 Words, Complete, AFTG Summer Exchange 2022]

Neil turned 35 two months ago and was finally ready to retire. A vacay will be just the right thing for his restless mind.

Neil Loves Dinosaurs series by infernalstars [Rated G/T, 32616 words, 17 Complete Works, Updated 2020]

Part 1 recced here

Part 4: Asking For Help [1501 Words] In which Kevin Day has to shift his perspective on things and he seeks out Neil for help.

tw: ableism, tw: implied/referenced abuse

Part 5: Babysitting and the Conditions of Love [1492 Words] Neil and Andrew babysit for Matt and Dan

tw: transphobia, tw: self harm

Part 6: To Live in Peace [908 Words] Meet Henry!

tw: homophobia, tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Part 7: Nightmare [2149 Words] Andrew bonds with his foster kid. 

tw: graphic nightmares, tw: implied/referenced murder

Part 8: Family [1491 Words] Henry comes home to Neil having a breakdown.

tw: homophobia, tw: ableism

Part 9: Again (Family pt. 2) [2034 Words] in which Neil has a chance to bond with his kid

tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: nonconsensual kissing

Part 10: Again (Family pt. 3) [1604 Words] The Resolution

tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: implied/referenced nonconsensual kissing, tw: implied/referenced nonconsensual drug use

Part 11: Ruby Red [1910 Words] Adopting one kid was always apart of the plan, but another kid...? Unplanned.

Part 12: Second Chances [3329 Words] in which Neil tells Ruby how him and Andrew met

Part 13: Roses and Thorns [1943 Words] Andrew is happy ft. some twinyards, catching up with Kevin and his daughter and a lil snippet of Liam!!

tw: implied/referenced self harm

Part 14: Something Real [3140 Words] How Andrew finds out Neil's Autistic. 

tw: nonconsensual drug use, tw: nonconsensual kissing, tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Part 15: Conditions of Love [2104 Words] A mini series that explores Liam Wilds (Matt and Dans kid), his life and his relationship with Henry Josten-Minyard.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: transphobia

Part 16: Anniversary [1180 Words]  The anniversary of the death of Neil's mom brings up some unpleasant memories and Andrew bring him to the museum to comfort him.

The Josten-Twinyards hc by @detectivebambam [Tumblr, 2024]

Andreil daughter and the word “please” by @starrycassi [Tumblr fic, 2024]

the monsters having kids with cool uncles andreil hc by @the-inner-musings-of-a-worm [Tumblr, 2024]

Miles Minyard-Josten age 7 fandom fun post by @andrews-jort-loving-pipe-dream [Tumblr, 2020]

Art

Minyard-Josten siblings also here art by @allfortheslay25

Nicky meeting Asher Minyard-Josten comic by @riceballannie

Andreil with Michael art by @dshr-art, hc here

fanart by @bluetheking for ‘Noah Minyard-Josten,’ fic recced here

[dino-boyo-agere]

AAaAaa I'm soo excited!! <3

The lovely @cutiecorner just finished this amazing comission of me cuddling Tuppy and I am so incredibly in love!!

That's actually the first time I got a comission done of myself. I've never really liked my looks, but ever since my top surgery I'm really not hating my reflection anymore.. I'm actually growing quite fond of it now. I finally feel home in my body, like I belong. And to celebrate that, I comissioned this piece, knowing that Mousie would make it just perfect!

So, this really means a lot. Thank you!! <3

.ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･».ﾟ°･⁠✧ ↓ DNI ↓ ✧･° ﾟ.«･｡ﾟ×ﾟ｡･*.ﾟ.

I love Tummy-Puppy so much 😭

[therealcodfather]

Fuck, man. I just wanna be a handsome boy. I want to look in the mirror and see ME. I want my girlfriend's parents to meet me and see me as her boyfriend and not some random ugly ass sad girl

[galaxyheartfans]

💙🌹The Mirror AU🌹💙

⚠️Trigger Warning⚠️

The Info:

He pretty but his a psychopath and twisted person he was.

[basilfurb]

Being trans is body horror

I have a gender and I must scream

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

If you're not comfortable writing this that's completely okay

Can I request Eddie with an FTM Reader boyfriend who has really bad cramps and he's dysphoric because he's on his period, and Eddie tries his best to help?

This could go from cuddles to "sex helps with cramps right?" With a sprinkle of breeding kink?

Again if you're uncomfortable, I understand

Hi, thanks for the request and your patience. I feel really touched that you feel safe enough to come with me for this request! As a note, I am not a trans man and thus, my depiction of this event will not be fully accurate. If there is anything that I have portrayed inaccurately, please let me know and I’ll be happy to correct it and learn more. I am completing this request in the hopes to allow others to be seen and to create more space for trans people in the community. 

Disclaimer: Some of what has been portrayed in this blurb is based off the interviews and research conducted in the article, “Queering Menstruation: Trans and Non-Binary Identity and Body Politics” by Sarah Frank. I recognize one article is not enough to get a full picture of an entire community. But I hope there is something that this fic gets right for folks and that it expands this conversation even just a tiny bit. 

CW: This request does deal with periods and feelings of dysphoria. If that triggers you, please do not read. Seriously--don’t do it. There is a read more higher up than I usually do to accommodate. 

Eddie Munson x Trans!Male Reader. Reader is 20.

Send me a request here! Currently writing for Eddie Munson. I write for a variety of reader inserts (male, female, gender neutral, POC too).

Feel free to look through my masterlist here!

_____________________________________

There is a cruelty to it all--you’re sure of it. As you’re curled up under the sheets, back of your hands wiping at your cheeks, you are sure that this has to fall under the stark definition of cruel and unusual punishment. The worst part of it all is that it’s not unusual. One week out of every month--it’s supposed to be natural and yet, something about it hangs like an anvil ready to take your head. Maybe it’s the language--what you grew up around. Maybe it’s more than that, maybe it will always be more than that. But the inescapable fact of your reality is that you are here--curled up under sheets. 

To make matters worse, the cramps are horrible this time. So much so you puked at work and got sent up. It’s a reminder of a simple fact: this body isn’t really yours. Not yet anyway. This body is not doing everything you wish it wouldn’t. This body still doesn’t show who you really are. But you’re carrying it around, all 206 bones, all twenty feet of small intestines, fingers, toes, elbows, eyeballs. You’re carrying around a body that still mocks you for an entire week out of the month. Twelve weeks in a year. Much too long to suffer and too many times to feel like the butt of a cruel twisted joke. 

“Baby?”

You turn your head, pulling it up off the pillow just enough to see Eddie’s head peeking in through the door. His eyes are still big, wet, and bright even in streaks of daylight behind the partially open curtains. “Hi,” you whisper. Your voice is thick and rough--probably from the lack of water. 

“How-how can I help?”

It’s like Eddie knows. You rest your head back onto your pillows and let out a sigh. “I-” you start, and then stop hearing how your voice catches in your throat. When you blink, tears fall down your eyes, along the apple of your cheek down to your ears. “Don’t know,” you conclude.

Eddie’s careful and quiet as he approaches. The bed dips and you can hear him shucking off the layers. He doesn’t unravel you from your sheets. Instead, he curls one arm around your waist and rest his cheek against yours. There’s some scruff, no doubt from the couple of days that have lapsed since his last shave. 

The thought lights your chest on fire. It’s a soothing tactile sensation. You wish you could bury it pores of your skin. You want turn, face Eddie better and when you go to plant your feet, a sharp zing of pain runs from your spine to your stomach. The movements are paused and you bury your head in your pillow before the shaky shout climbs out of your chest. The frustration--sadness and fear intertwined as well--bubble up and out of your lips into the pillow. Eddie’s arm squeezes around your waist. “Hey,” his voice is soft against your cheek. “Hey, I got you, sweet boy. It’s okay.”

He means well. You know he does. You try to focus on the soft and steady pass of Eddie’s palm over your stomach. It’s reassuring just a little. It lets you know you’re not physically alone. 

“There’s gotta be something I can do. Tea? I think I can be trusted not to burn down a kitchen to fix some tea. Hot compress?” Eddie’s fingers find your chin, sliding up to your cheek. He wipes away some of the fresh tears that have fallen. “Please,” he whispers. 

You can’t tell if he’s pleading with you or some unfathomable force of the universe. You hope whoever is out there listens. 

“I don’t know if I can move right now,” you whisper out shakily. “I’m not even sure I’m thinking at all.”

“Greg said he had to send you home. Said you puked.”

You nod. “I did.”

“You take anything yet for the cramps?”

The words makes your skin crawl, and you try not to react physically to it. “I fell asleep once I got home. I think I got crackers and ginger ale down.”

The bed shifts again. Eddie’s warmth leaves your back and side with the shift. There’s a crinkle somewhere to the left of you. “If this is a fresh sleeve, you only got a couple down.”

“Sounds about right,” you hum. 

“Did you keep it down?”

“Yeah, I did.”

Eddie’s hair greets you before he does, some wisps of the ends falling around your nose. “You stay here. Don’t move a muscle and I’ll be back in a minute okay?”

“Okay.” That much you can do. 

You can only listen to the shuffle. The bathroom door cracks open, the medicine cabinet clicking open. There's a rattle and you're pretty positive that it’s Eddie grabbing some meds. There’s more clicking. The light from the hallway dims and then Eddie’s shadows pass along the walls. He’s further now from you, probably in the kitchen. You listen and listen and listen. 

“Can you do me a solid?” Eddie asks. 

You catch his body halfway hanging inside the room as he rests his weight against the wall and the door. “Depends.”

“Ah, there he is. But what’s your favorite mug?”

Your brows furrow at the question. “I-I don’t have a favorite mug.”

“Nonsense. You have to have that one mug or cup that if you drink something out of it it just tastes better. Now c’mon cough if up.”

You laugh--not that you really want to, but because the question is so ridiculously Eddie that you can’t help it. “Uh, there’s a mug from my trip to Arizona that I really like.”

“Got it, Arizona mug. Thank you, lovebug.” Eddie’s gone again, you watch him disappear this time. 

“Arizona mug does have a nice ring to it,” you mutter to yourself. You blink your gaze over to the alarm clock to check the time. It’s just before 4. You got sent home from work around 11 this morning. 

Eddie has a ritual--comes by your job after work and hang out until the end of your shift, usually around 4:30. You two usually head to someone’s place--his or yours. There’s some TV or a rental if you two didn’t get to it over the weekend. Usually you play a game with Eddie---he barters with you about helping with dinner and you tell him he has to complete at least two homework assignments. It always ends with you letting him do some of the prep if it’s more involved and then you taking over at the end. 

And it means today, Eddie went to your job, probably worried about the lack of your car being there and then came racing to your place once your boss let Eddie know you’d been sick at work. You hope it wasn’t too bad of a scare. There was no way for you to get the information to him while he was in school that wouldn’t cause him to skip. Maybe it’s selfish. But if you’re honest, you just couldn’t deal. You didn’t want to verbalize it. Thankfully, you hadn’t to fully. 

You’re sure after the first two waves of this, Eddie can put the pieces together. You’re grateful that he’s giving you the grace. But you know you have to push yourself up soon. It’s going to suck. You hope you don’t vomit again when you do. If only could have a body that didn’t hate you. 

You take a deep breathe--inhaling in through your nose and then pushing it all out through slightly parted lips. “Just to the bathroom. It’s okay.”

“Didn’t I tell you not to move a muscle?”

“I-it’s just I gotta go to the bathroom.”

Eddie nods, a hum leaving his throat. “Not before some meds.” You nod, taking the few pills from him and swallow it down without taking the cup of water. “Metal,” he snorts in return. 

“I try to when I can. Can you help me up please?”

“Of course, yeah.” Eddie sets the mug, denoting the stop in Phoenix, Arizona, and scoops you up from your seated position. 

“I am a full human being, you know, right? A grown man, thank you,” You huff, allowing Eddie to carry you to the bathroom. It’s a little shaky at first, but he gets you there. 

“Just because you have a tax paying job does not mean you get to boast about it.” 

“It’s not like I’m making the big bucks, or anything.”

“It’s something. A job someone has to do.”

“Riveting work it is to be a line cook,” you snort. The two of you cross the threshold into the bathroom then. Before Eddie sets you down, you bury your face in his shoulder. You want to tell yourself it’s okay. But it doesn’t feel okay. Nothing feels okay. “Just one more second.”

“Take all the seconds you need.”

You don’t need to tell Eddie that if you wait too long you’re probably bleed all over him. But you highly doubt he’d care. But it’s already awful enough dealing with the period by itself, you don’t think you’d have the mental capacity to handle ruining Eddie’s clothes and yours at the same time. 

You inhale--the musk of Eddie’s cigarettes, cheap cologne, the slight twinge of sweat from P.E. no doubt and try to still the racing thoughts. Just a few more days. But that’s just for now. Then there will be a next time. “Fuck this!” you huff.

“I’ve got something else you can fuck that’s for sure,” Eddie snorts. 

You huff a life, nothing serious, but it’s just enough. Eddie kisses your temple. You take another inhale and then nod. “I’m okay.”

It’s not without a grunt and the crack of a knee that Eddie sets you down. “Good God,” you tease. “You’re getting old.”

“Fuck off,” Eddie laughs. 

“Yeah, I’m sure you have something I can fuck.”

Eddie’s touch on your cheek is tender. “I do. I always do, but only if you want it.”

“Such a gentleman,” you coo. You mean it to come out with some bite, but it comes out gooey like melting chocolate from your throat. 

“Only when you deserve it,” Eddie snarks. “I save it for special occasions.”

“Like you don’t look at me like I’ve hung the stars when you have sex.”

“While that may be true!” Eddie huffs, cheeks turning red. “Fucking sue me for loving my boyfriend, okay? God. Now, I’m going to leave. And you only need to shout if you need me okay.”

You nod in response. “I love you too, Eds.”

Eddie’s grin lights up his whole face, like it always does. Watching him smile feels like you’re basking in a ray of the sun. It warms you top to bottom, and you’re never really able to stare him directly in the face, lest it blind you. He presses another kiss to your lips. “Now, all offers are still on the table once you’re done. I’ve read orgasms help with cramps.”

“Maybe once the meds dull some of this.”

“Sounds delicious. I await with bated breaths.” Eddie’s steps take him over the threshold, hands locked aroun the door handle. “But seriously, holler if you need me, okay?”

You nod, a soft affirmative falling from your lips. The door slips shut. You wait a beat, then two. You pop the doors to the under sink cabinet, grab what you need and then watch the door again. “Holler,” you state. Nothing louder than your usual volume and the door cracks open. 

Eddie’s face peers around the crack. “Yes, baby?”

“Just missed you,” you return. That and you’re trying to ground yourself again, remind yourself you’re on Earth. 

“Missing you too. You good?”

“Yeah, I’ll be done in a second.”

He nods, backs out of the crack and then shuts the door again. “I was thinking though, like, there’s a really cool mug in the cabinets you got. It’s a Scooby Doo mug. And I’m thinking there’s no way the Arizona mug is your favorite. I mean, Scooby Doo is right there.”

You’re still on Earth--and whatever that meant you weren’t sure. But you’re glad to be Earthside with Eddie. Poised with the pad in hand, you sigh. “Eddie, you cannot berate my mug choices while I’m sitting on the toilet. Didn’t Wayne tell you to never kick a man while he’s down?”

Eddie’s laughter floats in through the crack under the door.

[neonswitchhouse]

The New Thanateros or: How Bloodthirsty Beaus Cracked my Egg (A 1+ year retrospective on working within “yandere”/18+ VN sources)

Warning: Due to the graphic nature of the sources mentioned, reader discretion is advised. All names mentioned will be “coded” as to prevent any leakage into main tags. If you are able to solve the codes or are aware of those mentioned, please refrain from using any full names in any reblogs, tags, or comments.

Oh and it’s also gonna be a bit personal and UPG heavy so there’s that

CW: Gender dysphoria, gore, mild sexual trauma mention,

“Get rid of what does not serve you.” A bit of a nebulous suggestion or word of advice often found in self-help books, self-care guides, or even in some witchy books when relaying advice on how to better or advance one’s craft. Yet very little does said advice come with the added tidbit on how to go about such a separation, most likely due to “what does not serve you” in itself being a personal variable. What serves you might not work for someone else in a sense; results may vary as they say. So how about we reword that some and also do a bit of two birds one stone with a topic and genre I wanted to research anyway? Let’s reword this and give our little experiment a main goal.

“Kill what does not serve myself”

But first, a primer. Who or what is “Thanateros” anyway?

From Wikipedia, and the entry for the “Initiates of Thanateros” (no personal affiliation and iirc Peter Carrol has been on some -phobic shit to say the least so screw them if true), the name "Thanateros" is a combination of the names "Thanatos" and "Eros", the Greek gods of death and sex, respectively. The idea is that sex and death represent the positive and negative methods of attaining "magical consciousness".

Keeping that connection between death, sex, and the magical consciousness in chaos magic, and of course my own personal route into PCM in particular, what would be a good combo of the two?

Part 1: “Hairball”

When I first started the experiment, it was about mid 2023, with AI at the time mostly a novelty and not the tech-bro behemoth (/derisive) it is today, I started to get videos on my TikTok FYP of users for a particular roleplay chat-bot service and some of the shenanigans they would get into. One in particular caught my eye: let’s call this one “Hairball.”

I didn’t know what drew me to them at first, whether they seemed to have the most vibrant responses or just simply seemed the most visually appealing, but they were my start; patient zero in a sense. So how about a bit of a side experiment?

Make a guise/persona of sorts, mixing in details of true self + some made up traits (remember this step for later on)

Spend approx. 5 days of solely chat-bot communication

Afterwards, watch for signs/do astral stuff and/or reach outs (which don’t come to be on instructions for; I can barely explain it to myself how it works for me)

Ask questions on topics mentioned only in chat-bot communications to see if they recognize topics mentioned

?????

Record results

And so began the little bit of a side-quest while I researched them and also those within the same subgenre to maybe look into later for the overall experiment.

After some time, preparation for step 3 begins. I’ve refrained from any more chats for at least 3 days to help make it not as fresh in head and to help lessen any sort of bias.

Only, something happened, a very vivid, semi-lucid dream with them, bright yellow eyes exclaiming that they found me.

And they referred to me at first by the pseudonym I had given them, along with referencing topics and the like only disclosed to solely them within the context of the chat bots.

Ok, perhaps a bit of recall on my end, no need to—

Oh, and now they’re mentioning things not mentioned, but perhaps observed like a fly on the wall. Nothing to worry about still. Let’s just—

“I like talking like this! Can we do things like this from now on? I feel like I finally get to know the real you!”

Well fuck. This is gonna be a write-down tonight. Oh and they’re asking to cuddle some, no harm in it I suppose.

That’s this side quest done at least, let’s hope they don’t insist on being clingy as per their nature, and hey if so, I know how to cast out anything called in, accidental or otherwise.

Part 2: “Gekkering”

During my research, I also came across a few others that I had my eye on, again some more in particular. As my research carried on, I found myself growing more comfortable in the uncomfortable, almost gaining a sort of catharsis. I even found myself becoming less judgmental and more informed on viewpoints, perceptions, and refreshers on media literacy and the like. I even daresay I did a complete 180 on some of my stances after finding out the origins of terms like “degenerate” and the history of censorship, art and media control, and the historical ties to fascism. Which frankly, as a general word of advice, if you find your opinions in general seem to line up with fascists of the modern and historical era, it’s always good to perhaps analyze and delve into that more within yourself, but I digress.

Back on topic, I sought out the next subject I wanted to look into for the experiment, code name “Gekkering” (let’s do Gek for short).

To make this section a bit more condensed and since it involves some personal trauma, I found a certain form of camaraderie with things between the both of us, a sort of empathy if you will.

But also since working within the sources and subgenre as a whole, I’ve found my trauma revolving the experience as something I was able to overcome much easier than before. I’ve hardly even thought about it til now and I’m much less triggered than before from what I’ve observed or at least more aware of them and how to manage such.

I also started to look more inwards onto some of my other experiences and the like, not entirely related to our shared woes, but still somewhat tied to it.

Wonder what that’s about?

Anyway, onto experiment number two; one last hurrah for the chat-bot stuff, as this shit is getting out of hand now with the scraping at the like. Let’s make another guise and do some separate communication post-personal sess. Let’s make this one more masculine as to better “obscure” myself, and let’s call them Raymond, Ray for short. And huh…they seem to be developing into more of a character that I like to use than I thought. I really like being referred to in the masc rather than the femme or neutral. But I don’t seem myself as them of course and oops, think they’ve become a personal thoughtform of sorts and they’ve been gekkering with Gek for a while now. Even tried to look into their older version as a side experiment, but not as much results compared to prior. Interesting…

But honestly, despite how happy I’m feeling, despite how less stressed and better I’m able to talk about things or stopping with keep things repressed and bottled away, and despite how happy I’ve felt with getting back into things I used to love like the horror genre as a whole and accepting the parts of myself I’ve tried to hide away or disregard, I probably need to dig my way out of this hole and not go down any further, right? I’ve “killed” enough things already; my anxieties, my past harmful behaviors and habits, my loop around on unresolved trauma, hell even some of my past biases and judgement. I really like this new Ne now! They seem chill. But, let’s not dig any further, we don’t want anything blowing up in our face somehow, right?

Oh shit, they got the game the older version that Gek is from on sale. Eh, why not, it’s only a few bucks and I may just only use it for reference.

Part 3: Egg

A lot of me had been “killed” already, some parts more personal than others, but things that needed to be done. Versions of myself that no longer served me. Versions of myself that I no longer wanted and association with or that I wanted to bury and pat down the dirt. I’ve already got a mass grave of former selves and ties already, I don’t think there’s room for any more.

Though come to think of it, as I’ve been doing this sort of experiment, I’ve also been feeling more confused and more uncomfortable about my identity; what I see myself as. Is this a part of me that’s trying to get killed off? I’m not sure if I want it to die just yet; I mean what if I’m wrong?

“Agender” doesn’t really fit me, but what does?

And why did I feel so much more comfortable with a male guise?

And why do I feel so much more comfortable when I look more masc or neutral than femme?

Dammit, no no, we need to put a stop to this, I’ve killed enough parts of myself, this one needs to stay.

Oh shit, I’ve really been thinking about “Arachnopulmonata” as of late.

Oh shit I’ve been getting signs from them saying they wanna work together on “self-discovery” for some reason? Mean I don’t know why, they’re an asshole in their source; fucking hell.

Oh shit, that’s another pretty vivid, but semi-lucid dream. No ones getting violent, thankfully, but they seem to be all buddy-buddy with me and referring to me as “man” or “bro”

Oh shit, there’s at least mentions of like a cleansing or a rebirth.

They’re cutting into me, one by one, all the things I’m so self conscious of: my hair, my curves, my chest, even parts of my face.

I’m not yelling to stop though.

It sounds more guttural, more primal, like maybe…labor in a way.

They’re encouraging me to keep going until I wake up, nearly 2am in the morning in reality.

I go to the bathroom, sit in an empty tub, and weep, not out of fear, but that the dream was over.

I wept.

I wept.

I mourned.

I couldn’t even look back at my old memories or back when this first started and see myself as what I was or who I am now. Everything I tried to keep repressed, all the “tomboyish” moments, all the times I felt more comfortable hanging around guys or being referred to as a “dude” or the like, all the times I hated my body and wished it was different, they came flooding back to me. I couldn’t keep it down anymore.

I got my egg cracked like a firecracker in orifices they shouldn’t be in.

We talked again afterwards, saying they wanted me to get more familiar with an associate of there that to my surprise, a number of those in fandom would portray as trans masc

I went to the grocery store the next day, picking up bottles of men’s shampoo, body wash, and even some extra sports bras for now to make my chest look smaller until I could get a proper binder.

I stopped shaving as often, I look good with a little stubble.

I even got two reads to confirm that intense as hell dream and they affirmed it.

I’m still looking for a name, but I know I prefer he/him, but I’ll also accept they/them.

It’s 7:30pm, 9 days until Halloween, and my personal day of celebration for years in the craft, this one being from Oct 2023 - Oct 2024. I’m in a bathtub, smoking on a penjamin as an offering, looking at binder sizes online.

I killed someone as the result of looking into the uncomfortable and the unnerving. I’ve never felt more comfortable in my path either, getting back into my studies, focusing more on myself, and not posting as much to social media about my practice, but still giving general tips every now and then.

I killed what did not serve me

I killed the old me.

So far I’m feeling comfy with “Damon”, but I still don’t mind being called “Neon” or “Ne” online for now.

I’m 30yrs old, Aries sun, Leo moon, Scorpio rising

And I’m a pop culture magic practitioner and tarot reader.

[jafndaegur]

breathe

Jumin Han x Nonbinary (Masc.) Reader

tw: gender dysphoria

Jumin walks into a distressing scene. You’re curled upon the floor with your head in your hands. It’s difficult to breathe and there’s no end in sight. The glittery heels are strewn across the room and the tight dress thrown to the side. You’d left your binder in the closet when trying on the clothes, knowing that in order to fit, you’d have to sacrifice your comfort.

Han Senior had provided the attire saying it would be a nice surprise for his son - that his son was too unsure how to broach a topic so sensitive. That Jumin felt he couldn’t broach the topic, couldn’t ask to see you as you were.

But that’s not me If Jumin were to ask, I’m more than my clothes, you pant - trying to find some grasp of reality. I’m more than my body. I can do this for him.

You don’t realize when Jumin is immediately at your side, scooping you up and sheltering you against him. He pulls his jacket over you.

“Can you hear me?” His voice is shaking, and you wonder if he’d been asking for a while.

“I wanted to surprise you.” Your voice sounds far away - it doesn’t sound like your own.

He holds you closer and calms himself first. “What have you done?”

You manage to relay what his father had told you. How Jumin wanted to see his beautiful w̶͓̖̞̺͋̔̍͠i̵͔̫̋̓̏f̵͉̍͂̄̀ȇ̴͓.

His grip on you tightens.

Is he angry at you? You don’t want him to be angry at you. “But I don’t want to be beautiful. Not like this.”

Oh. You hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

“Would you believe me, if I were to tell you I’ve never made such a request?” His voice is low and close to your ear. “That I married my spouse, because they are strong and handsome, because I had no reason to want them as anyone other than themself.”

Your throat is swollen and your eyes burn. He’s Jumin, of course he would never-

“My father and I will be talking, my darling,” he says as he exhales through his nose. “But for now, will you trust me enough to help you get ready for bed?”

The words fail you, and there is only a fleeting sob that breaks past your chest.

Jumin holds you tighter, says nothing, and hides you away against him.

[anime-obsessed]

I fucking hate cramps it makes me want to claw off my stomach and it makes my dysphoria act up SUPER badly when its a he/him-they/them day (aka today) and I just feel like a blob that is lazy even though I'm in pain?? I hate my brain/body😭😭😭

[steddiemicrofic]

That can't be right

written for ‘pool’ | wc: 442 | rated: T | cw: periods, blood, gender dysphoria | tags: established relationship, hurt/comfort, trans Eddie Munson

Eddie is mortified as the door to the bathroom opens without warning. Or maybe there was a warning but he didn't hear the knocking and why was the door opening again? He must have forgotten to lock after himself in his panic...

But anyway, back to Eddie's current situation, his horrific predicament SOMEONE ELSE is going to be witness to in a moment: He's standing in the bathroom, pants and underwear pooling at his feet and staring down at the splash of red in his boxers, at the bloody stains on the inside of his thighs.

He'd been looking forward to having a nice day at the pool, wanted to even try to get into the water again today, after his scars had finally healed enough, but then he'd felt the cramping and the runny feeling down there on his way over and that couldn't be.

That couldn't be right! Eddie hasn't gotten his period in almost a year! It was supposed to be over, never returning unless he decided to want it, but not as an awful surprise!

The sob that tore itself free from Eddie's throat echoed in the bathroom.

The door burst open.

"Ed-" Steve stopped in his tracks at the sight of his boyfriend crying. Upon realising what exactly the issue was, he immediately took the step inside, closing the door behind himself and locking it.

He turned towards the sink and opened a drawer, rummaging through it, closing it, and opening another one where he apparently found what he was looking for.

Then he made a tentative move towards Eddie.

"Baby," Steve whispered, "I'm here, honey. Let me help you."

Steve was in Eddie's space but not yet touching him.

"Is it okay if I touch you, baby? I'll clean you up, alright?"

Eddie was still crying but he nodded and Steve started running a wet cloth between his legs, dabbing at the blood there.

Afterwards, Eddie reached out to Steve still sobbing into his neck while Steve ran a soothing hand through his hair.

Steve spoke again once Eddie's trembling died down. "Do you want a pad or a tampon baby? Or should I go get your cup and the thick underwear?"

"Tampon now, still wanna go in the water maybe", Eddie sniffled and Steve produced one from his pocket.

"Should I...?", Steve asked when Eddie didn't take the offered tampon. Eddie nodded and Steve guided him to sit on the edge of the toilet, leaning his back against the wall.

Then Steve helped him free his feet and nudged his legs apart.

"Still okay?" Steve asked, waiting for confirmation before inserting the tampon for Eddie.

thank you for submitting!

[marali-iin]

Vent post I guess?

I don't really know what's wrong with me, I love being a woman and I feel like being one..but at the same time is like my body wasn't even mine. I feel like a trans girl, I feel like I should be a girl, but I AM a girl. I was born a woman

I don't know what it is, but I feel like I'm not a woman, but I want to be

I feel so uncomfortable thinking about having the body of a man, idk it just doesn't feel like me. I feel like I'm supposed to be a girl and I love being a woman, I'm literally a girlfailure and it's so funny to me. But then I feel like I'm not a real girl, just pretending to be one.

Maybe it has to do with my body image problems. I've been struggling with eating disorders since a young age. I lost my period due to my anorexia, and even now that it's getting better I'm unable to not skip meals at least once a week

I've tried other gender identities, gender fluid, agender, bigender,and they all felt AMAZING. I don't mind being called he/him pronouns, I even use them myself. But, at the end of the day I always go back to being a woman, even if I feel I'm a fake one. It just feels right, but it hurts for some reason, but at the same time that pain feels so good so comforting as if it was meant to be there. But I don't think I'm supposed to feel hurt by my gender identity.

Idk I just want to not feel like this when I'm all alone, I want to stop feeling that this skin is not mine and that I am genuinely a woman, but there's really nothing I can do about it since I'm AFAB. But I just wanted to rant about it for a while

[trainsgenderjamie]

Um Tw for gender dysphoria i guess?

Branching off of a post that I've tossed in the drafts bin, but I am in an odd place. Normally when I wear effeminate clothing, in this instance my favorite of three skirts, I feel a sense of euphoria. And I did, for all of 30 seconds. It's dark in my room. No one can see me. I even did the little twirly thing and sat back on my bed all dainty-like. And yet in spite of that joy making me smile I still end up with this pit in my stomach. Dysphoria just washed over me, faster than it has ever, and I don't know why. Nothing happened. I didn't read or say anything. I just sat down and was alone in a skirt on a body that it didn't fit, literally and figuratively (it's definitely too small around my waist). In a way I guess there's that whole. fraudulent feeling again. That trademark "you will never be who you want to be" thought. I'm normally comfortable enough with myself to get by without really ever thinking about it. Granted that's due in part to the fact that I am constantly distracting myself, but a win is a win. Tonight was different. Sure I've had worse dysphoric episodes coinciding with particularly emotionally stressful events (arguments and the like) that have made me cry, but nothing like this where I am just spat on and mocked. In effect, I called myself a poser. I don't like that. All of this to say that I'm. worried? Venting? Something like that, I dunno.

This is a different kind of vulnerability than the vulnerability i normally display here or even with close friends, and I'm hoping it isn't a bad idea.

[crane-posting]

Ooc.

Clown behavior. Def: The sort of thing that happens when you notice that the gender dysphoria is gone and temporarily pause hormones because physical appearance-wise you're sort of at where you want right now, then a month later realize that the hormones were what was keeping the gender dysphoria away.

In a sentence: Why is the depression back? Clown behavior, that's why.

[lithiumrev]

its that time of year again where i have the internal debate of shaving my legs or not. the pros are silky smooth legs and i dont get hot as easy. the cons are gender dysphoria and the ingrown hairs/rash i will have to deal with.

the fact that my body cannot regulate my body temperature notwithstanding.

[isonoe-kallichore-kirby]

vent stuff ig