#dysphoria trigger warning

[almightyhamslice]

Syringeon redesign!! FINALLY the last of the main characters (until Banban 8 comes out n I have to redesign the new silly guy and possibly Brushista)!!! He is a disgusting and disturbing worm but he wishes people didnt think he was disgusting and scary because he thinks he'd be a good parent!! (he's... not really...) He was conceptualized as a nurse mascot named "Fuchsia" but was "remodeled" when the scientists considered that he had no appeal to children, so they stopped caring to make him presentable to the public & modified him based on what traits would be useful to them.

"Fuchsia" was created with the DNA of a human woman and a hammerhead worm, though his four arms are from neither component, simply sculpted onto him when he was an inert clay figure. He is transgender and despises being viewed as a woman and has pretty severe body dysphoria that was only worsened by the scientists' modifications-- he always knew "Fuchsia" wasn't who he wanted to be, but the scientists and marketing department didn't know or really care about that. Several walls do display Syringeon's new name and appearance, but upper floors' gift shops still sell merchandise of "nusre Fuchsia" listed next to Slow Seline and Queen Bouncelia.

Comparison between Syringeon's original form and his new form. The scientists sought to make him a mechanized surgeon who could be expendable & care for the other mascots without fear of death, so he was made physically larger to effectively restrain the others. His original hands were all amputated to be replaced with various metal tools. He despairs over the loss because now he cannot use his hands to feel things. His mask is actually the same as it was pre-operation, he's not obligated to wear it anymore but he prefers to keep it on out of comfort.

Syringeon has a very strange complex about parenthood. He wants to be a parent and understands how to create subcases, but prefers to create them self destructively. He grafts them from his own flesh, injecting clay and givanium into his body and waiting a while for the new creatures to burst out of his stomach, like larval xenomorphs almost. It hurts a lot and he does it compulsively, he has no regard for his physical safety or wellness due to how his so-called caretakers treated him as expendable. The scar going down his stomach is permanent, the wound has been reopened and torn so many times the only thing keeping it together is his stitches.

He is cruel to his offspring in a similar way to how the scientists were cruel to him. He discards them once they aren't "cute" and creates new ones in their place. He has only one child he consistently cares for and loves unconditionally: Senengeon.

That was a lot and it was much heavier than usual!!! I overthought the fuck out of Syringeon because I designed him during a bout of dysphoria n that shaped a lot of how he is!! I hope you like him and aren't completely offput?? I mean ofc it's horror art but, you know what I mean!

[peachybeins]

Sorry I'm gonna be mean here for a second. Dysphoria's been beating my ass so I deserve to be an asshole about this.

Male Charcter/ Reader being AFAB=/=PIV bottom, please tell me y'all know this right? Also please tell me you know that It also does not equal necessitating the most dysphoria inducing femme terms like cvnt pvssy cl*t (can't even fully type that shit out) right?

And if you insist on this at least have the decency to care about dysphoric trans men & Masc NBs by Tagging Your Shit!!!

Like at this point I don't even care if it's trans people doing this, it kinda makes it worse imo. I don't expect cis people to give a shit but fellow trans people should at least be cognisant of others.

I'm asking some of you to expand your imagination when it comes to the sexual roles of trans men & afab NBs in your writings. And if you don't want to?...that's fine great that you can enjoy these types of depictions awesome for you...now give a damn about others who can't at tag or give a CW so we can skip/blacklist tags.

[gl00my-b0y-1]

Tw deep!!

i want a falt chest.

[maplebean2003]

Dark joke but a true one ^^"

[abusedpixie]

𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞... 𝐀 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

[starry-eyed-adam]

a great day to be alive

rating: pg-13 / words: 1896

featuring the incredible @littlemissartemisia’s Claire

content warning: this work contains mention of suicide/attempts, alcohol abuse, and dysphoria

————————————————————————

The splashing of the razor in the tiny bowl is one of the many sounds of the morning. The open window lets in the melody of the chickens’ muted bawks and birds’ songs that float above the dew-weighted air, and reveals that the sun’s reached just high enough above the mountains to spill into the bathroom, rendering the overhead light pretty much useless.

Leo swishes the tiny blades in the ceramic bowl, shaking off the caked-on shaving cream before he leans in towards the mirror again, tilting his head to scrape under his jawline. While his brothers have other indicators of facial hair (Don’s stripes, Raph’s short spikes), Leo doesn’t have any, period. But it makes him feel nice to shave anyway. Makes him feel well-groomed. More masculine, even. Once finished with the patch under his jaw, the slider turns his head. He’ll be the first to admit that he’s admiring himself, obviously. He’s put a lot of work into this pretty face.

Content with his work, Leo dips his hand into the plugged sink and splashes warm water on his clean face, washing away the rest of the cream. The towel beside the sink is tugged off of its metal ring as Leo pats himself dry. Taking another moment to look at his handsome self, Leo grins and whistles through his teeth. So this is what his honeybunny’s so happy to wake up to every morning. He gets it.

The steam from his shower’s still lingering in the room, so the running overhead fan might contribute to it, but Leo’s too busy applying aftershave—another thing he doesn’t need, but has enough money and too much self-respect to get—and humming to himself to hear the footsteps approach the open bathroom door. He’s not even aware she’s standing there until—

“Uncle Leo.”

The slider nearly drops the damn pump bottle he’s so startled. Setting the aftershave a little forcefully on the counter, mostly so he doesn’t allow himself the chance to drop it again, Leo takes a sharp breath as he looks over towards his brother’s eldest. “Hey, Claire. G’morning.”

The white-haired girl is… small, today. She’s sort of curling into herself, holding her arms and keeping her head low, barely even meeting his eyes. She’s leaning against the doorway, not really facing him until he shuts off the fan and turns to her. “Everythin’ okay?”

The teenager just kinda hums and shrugs, but Leo catches the corners of her eyes crinkling, and she sniffs. “Yeah, I mean… I just, uh.”

Her uncle stays where he is, patiently waiting.

Claire sniffs and rubs at her face before finally looking up, her expression taking Leo aback somewhat. Her eyes and nose are reddened with obvious tears, and something like hopelessness dulls her entire face. “When does it get easier?” she whispers, so faint that Leo isn’t sure he quite hears her at first.

“What? When does what get easier, kiddo?” he answers with a voice almost just as quiet, brow furrowed in worry. Claire glances down again—shit, he’s losing her—and shrugs once more, weaker this time.

“I dunno. All of it.” She sniffs. “Being trans, queer. Being hated. Being… alive.”

There’s a long silence between them, and Leo’s heart aches at every word. “…that’s a tough question, Claire.”

She recoils immediately. “I know. I’m sorry. It was dumb. I’ll leave you alo—“

Her uncle’s hand is suddenly firmly in hers, and Leo leans down to meet her eyes, fully sincere. “It ain’t dumb. I still have those questions myself. But, unlike you—“ his own eyes crinkle with a smile. “I have a couple more years experience doin’ all that.”

“I figured you were the person to go to.” Claire gives him a tight smile back. “I mean, we’ve got so much in common. We’re both trans and queer, super depressed, alcoholic—“

“‘Ey. Former alcoholic.” Leo lifts an eyebrow at her as he flashes his 90 day chip, making Claire laugh.

“Alright, former alcoholic. What else…?”

“Both had boyfriends that Donnie hated at first and probably still does a little an’ also tried to kill them?” Her uncle grins at Claire’s surprised expression. “I never did tell ya about Yuichi an’ Donnie’s fights.”

“Oh.” She glances down again, gaze lingering on his chest for a moment. “I was going to say something like we both tried to kill ourselves.”

The room goes quiet, and Leo’s breath stills. He swallows, and sighs. “Yeah. I s’pose we did. I gotta tell ya though, the amnesia does make that a lot easier to handle.” His eyes widen at the gears suddenly turning in her mind. “Quit tryin’ to figure out the easiest way to hit yourself on the head with a twenty-pound rock.”

After a moment, some of the darkness seems to lift from the girl’s expression and she even laughs, before she rubs her eyes and sighs deeply. Leo grins again and squeezes her hand. “Now, tell me who hates ya.”

This time, her laugh is without humor. “I do.” His niece’s eyes don’t meet his for a while, but she seems surprised to see the understanding reflecting in Leo’s gaze. Claire rubs her arm, sighing again. “There’s a few reasons, I’d rather not get into them… I just wanna know what to do about it, I don’t wanna hate myself. It… really sucks.”

Leo shakes his head with a sad smile. “That it does. Unfortunately, kiddo, I think it’s jus’ somethin’ that you grow out of. It ain’t gonna last forever, an’ you just gotta be strong through it. Be around your family, y’know, people that love ya. Remind yourself that you’re loved.” He sighs. “As for the trans thing… it’s… it ain’t easy findin’ people that support ya, truly an’ deeply. I know it’s 2051 an’ everyone’s openminded an’ shit, but that don’t mean it’s any easier internally.” Lightly, he taps his chest. “Havin’ some people around you, though. It does help. An’ you’ve always got your family. You’ll always have your parents, an’ your uncles, an’ all of your siblings an’ cousins. I hope that might count for somethin’.”

Slowly, she nods, though seems unsatisfied. Shifting where he stands, Leo’s voice drops in volume. “The self-hatred that comes from things outta your control… an’ the resultin’ urges, that… that’s different. It’s all self-loathing, but this kind burns so much deeper.” He rubs the back of her hand with his thumb, eyes low. “It seems like the people around you can’t help. Even like you’re hurtin’ them. It’s so, so crushing, that guilt. It festers, an’ spreads to every corner of your mind. I get it, I…” Leo sighs deeply, eyes closed. “I do. But you gotta fight it, even when you feel like you can’t. Especially when you feel like you can’t. There’s always reasons to keep goin’, because you’re not a bad person for what you’ve done, an’ the pain won’t last forever.”

Claire keeps her head hung, and her arms tighten around herself. Nervously, Leo rubs the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, kid. I know it’s probably not what you’re lookin’ for. I’m not an expert or—“

Leo’s stunned into silence by the pair of arms that wrap tightly around him. His niece buries her face in the crook of his neck and holds onto him. “I’m really glad you’re still here, Leo,” she whispers, voice choked with tears. “I know it was hard.”

Leo loves his family to death. He does. But oh, God, he realizes as he slowly hugs back, he doesn’t get told that nearly enough. Leo closes his eyes, gently rubbing her back as a stray tear escapes him. “I am too,” whispers the cowboy, faint. “I’m glad I lasted long enough to meet such an incredibly smart—“ he hugs her tighter, “strong—“ another squeeze, “absolutely beautiful an’ kind an’ loving girl like you. I want you to stick around as long as you possibly can, kiddo.” Firmly, Leo kisses the top of her head, sniffling himself. “I love you.”

She chokes on a laugh through her tears, and clings to him. “Thanks.”

After a long moment, they separate again, and Leo meets her eyes. “You tried talkin’ to your parents about this at all?”

Claire sniffs. “Dad… you know him, he’s not good with talking about this sort of stuff. He just gets upset and he doesn’t know what to say. Mom comforts me, but she doesn’t really get it. Neither of them do. So I don’t see the point in going to them. You’ve lived my life. Or, a lot of it. I’d rather talk to you about all of this.”

���Ah.” Sounds about right for his brother. Leo leans against the wall, exhaling slowly. “Donnie an’ Cat have four kids they gotta worry about, on top of a farm an’ ranch that’s suddenly expanded. Don’t blame ‘em for not bein’ all there right now.”

“I’m not,” Claire jumps in.

“They’re tryin’ really hard to be good parents to all of you. An’ I’m amazed with how well Don’s been doing so far. But he feels disconnected from ya.” Now, Leo never actually heard his brother say this. But he sees it, he can tell, when Scotty jumps into Leo’s arm to hug him when they get home and Donnie’s arms stay empty, or when Claire has an issue with someone at school and brings it up to her mom or to Mikey. The softshell’s need for validation, especially as a parent, is starting to choke him.

His niece is quiet. “He doesn’t understand like you do.”

“He’s your dad, kiddo,” says Leo, soft. “There’s a million things he ain’t gonna understand. But he wants to try. An’ I’d really, really like it if you’d give him that chance.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, and that’s okay. Leo smiles a bit as he watches Claire consider them. “…okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll… try to talk to him more.”

“That’s the spirit.” With a grin, Leo nudges her. “An’ try to give him a hug every now an’ then, yeah? Even if he don’t want it. An’ you be kind to your mama, too. Both a’ them work really hard for you.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, I got it.” Claire rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “I’ll do that.”

“Thank you.” Leo hangs up the face towel again and shuts off the overhead light as they both head out of the room. “You have breakfast yet?”

She follows him out. “No.”

“Claire! It’s 8am! If you don’t eat now you ain’t gettin’ a chance until lunch!” Leo grins at her, nudges her again. Claire just hums, shrugs, and her uncle sighs, rifling through his pocket again for the little plastic disc.

“Hey.”

The girl glances up to see the ‘90 Days Sober’ chip hanging off its chain, dangling from Leo’s fist. She smirks at him. “You’re very proud of that thing.”

“Bump my mother-friggin’ fist, you socially inept teenager,” her uncle laughs. “Here’s to gettin’ better.”

Claire hesitates, then lightly taps her fist against Leo’s. “To getting better,” she repeats, faintly. As they head down the stairs, the sounds of clanking silverware and plates and faded conversation grows louder. Leo grins, swings his little chain around as he leads her down.

“Mhm. An’ gettin’ better starts with having a damn meal. C’mon, you like pancakes or waffles?”

[apphiarothowrites]

(Not your average) Blushing Maiden

(Or, "An Introduction to Zoan Anatomy"-zoan anatomy 101 remix) I'd also like to dedicate this version of the idea to @xamaxenta

Marco eats his fruit three weeks before his 17th birthday. It takes him exactly 1 hour to notice that something has dramatically changed about his body-mostly because he spent most of that 60 minutes doubled over with incredible stomach cramps. But the second those subsided he realized he had to pee and moments after that-

Well. He hadn't reacted well, in the slightest. There was screaming, and his first ever full transformation, involved. It was traumatic, even. Pops, after consulting with Whitey and Jozu, immediately set course for the North Blue to an island famous for it's medical advancements. They assumed, correctly, that this "White City" would be able to find answers to Marco's insanely weird new problem.

The tests were many, invasive, and took multiple hours a day-every day, for an entire month. Nearly the entire hospital staff they consulted with, plus several animal sanctuaries, got involved. In the end, Marco was left with a hard-to-process reality.

Gone was the previous anatomical features he was used to-that he had tied his identity to-and in the place of his dick and balls was. Just another hole. At first it was mortifying, embarrassing, and shameful. Half the jokes he used to tell were suddenly cruel jabs at himself. Half the conversation of the crew suddenly felt like an indictment of his lacking.

It took him nearly to his 30th birthday to come to a place of real acceptance. The process required the assistance of his family's steadfast refusal to think less of him, and several meetings with a very strange group of people calling themselves "the okama kingdom." Slowly, but surely, he figured it out. He got there.

Where before he hid every stormy emotion of the day underneath a relaxed veneer, now at the age of 40 he openly expressed how he felt. Happiness was all smiles, anger a downturn set of eyebrows with a frown, sadness was shown with tears, stress was a pair of hunched shoulders and tight lips.

Where before he envied other men for the ease in which they proclaimed themselves such, now Marco knew-just as surely as he had before his fruit-he was just as much "male" as they were. He didn't need a dick and external testicles to prove it-just his fists and the occasional flash of talon. No one had joked about his lack of balls in decades, but he knew that if the punchline came up he could roll with it easily.

Where before he would get angry enough to lash out, or scared enough to flat out hide, on his bad days where the alteration of his body bothered and unnerved him, Marco now instead could lean on his brothers and sisters among the crew. Izou happily kept his quarters unlocked for Marco's bad days, as did Thatch and Rakuyo and Jozu and Pops. Even Vista, and the more reserved Namur, gladly let Marco hang around in awkward silence when he knew he couldn't be alone with his thoughts.

His lack of sexual experience never bothered him before now. He figured out his own needs-what worked, what didn't, and the things in between-and then held himself back. He knew there were people out there who wouldn't be bothered by his body-in fact, if Shanks were any indication, there were likely people out there who'd be really into his body-but the difficulty in explaining things made him hesitate. Eventually he decided that tending to his own lust by himself was preferable to fumbling through awkwardness with a partner. Even the few times he genuinely thought finally taking the plunge with someone, something would hold him back. (A niggling, scared voice that reminded him of himself at 18 whispered how can you prove they won't brag, that they won't turn you into a joke once you're gone?)

Then along came Ace, incredible and bullheaded. And Ace brought with him something Marco didn't think he'd ever find. Ace with his fire and fiery personality. Ace with his whip-smart brain, with his incredible body, with his brighter-than-the-sun smile, with his flirty grins and heated looks. Ace brought hope.

(The voice would tell him Ace brought trouble.)

[fandomsarelikecocaine]

Blocking all the trans!Kabru posts I see. Not because I'm transphobic, but because I'm a trans person

[sapphic-flesh]

Reminding myself to eat. That I love eating. That I love food. That I need to eat for my body to develop and change. For the chrysalis. Im a biology major, I know the science. But that worm, in my brain, that parasite of my own making, never leaves.

Tightens around my stoumach. Gnaws at my intestines. Tells me to puke. Until sometimes, I do. That every meal and snack is too much. That it won’t hurt to skip one meal, and then another. Been days I forget to eat at all. That the emptiness, the gnawing, feels good. That I should never be full. That I need to be skinnier. That the pain is worth it all. That the pain is good.

My autism doesn’t help. I sometimes don’t even notice the hunger, the emptiness.

But, the worm, I can’t kill him, can’t pull him from my guts and brain, he’s a part of me. but he’s not in charge. I am. I will eat the food. I will change my body in the right ways. I will be me. Not the carcass of the worm. He’s only a whisper most days, of a bad six months a while ago, and I’ll keep him that way.

So, time to eat breakfast.

[strange-nd-creature]

For the past several months I’ve been having some problems with food. I’m severely restricting what I eat. I know it’s not healthy. But I can’t stand to see myself with big breasts and a butt and a curvy hourglass figure. The gender dysphoria is too strong.

The worst part is, the restricting and fasting is working. I’m losing weight. I’m more comfortable in my body now than I was even a month ago, because I have less fat to be distributed to the wrong places.

My autistic traits certainly aren’t helping. My need for control and planning in my life is another thing that’s making me feel the need to restrict my calorie intake in such an extreme way.

I just don’t want to gain weight but I know I’m not supposed to eat like this. Idk why I’m writing this just a vent ig.

[gayer-than-a-bag-of-clowns]

my boyfriend likes my boobs, i’m a trans guy and this is making me feel like 7 emotions… i’m so happy i have him. i don’t even plan to take hormones, if this man keeps his stuff up imma end up not medically transitioning at all, me making the dysphoria go adios by being a horny bastard like idk how to feel about this bro.

if i told me one year ago that i plan not to go on T because i got a boyfriend that made me like the way i am i’d go comatose. dysphoria is cured in the weirdest ways sometimes. like mine wasn’t too bad to start with unless i was upset, but DAMN this man is just antidepressants and therapy as a person.

this ain’t even getting into the spicier stuff he’s said to me, he makes me like myself when i thought i couldn’t. i’m happy, he makes me happy. he’s the first boyfriend i’ve ever had and i’ll be damned if he ain’t the only one i have, gonna marry that bastard the moment i get to norway!

[jarofpaperstars]

Do you ever feel lonely? Or like no one actually cares about your wellbeing?

I type this alone in my car at lunch. It sucks because I have 15minutes before I need to be back inside but just typing this out already has me in tears that I'm struggling to choke back. I know my mood is probably off because I was just changed from viibryd to prozac and lamotrigine and it'll take my body time to adjust.. but it doesnt change I'm still experiencing these feelings. I feel lonely with my mental illness, it feels like it isolates me. When I talk about it, or try to, with friends it seems most don't respond. When I talk about it and no one responds, it feels like it cements the loneliness within me. I know realistically my friends are probably busy with their own worries and lives, but when messenger shows the little 'seen' notification and they never reply I can't help but to feel this way. Truth is today I've been really struggling mentally and emotionally so I reached out in our group chat about it, one person replied but the rest just opened the message and I guess closed it. I know they are probably busy, but selfishly I wish they could carve out a minute of their time for me.

In the mean time I guess I will type a vent post and sit alone with my feelings and thoughts.

Do you ever feel lonely? Like no one actually cares about your wellbeing?

[abusedpixie]

✧𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐞𝐬✧

𝐆𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐚

“𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐲 𝐆𝐨𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐉𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥“

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫, 𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫, 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐁𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞 (*^^*)♡

[pussypopstiel]

Its so hard to say “it dosent appeal to me but i respect it” sometimes cause there are times where i just do not respect it

[yardsards]

transgender dysphoria blues is one of those albums where halfway through you slowly lose the ability to sing along to it and just start bellowing wordlessly because even screaming along to the lyrics can't get all the feelings the music is giving you out of your system

[mlmshark]

My parents when I have trouble eating after I asked them to stop obsessively calorie counting and they didn’t