#body dysphoria tw

[picturejasper20]

Reading the fic ¨Second Chances and the Days that Follow¨ has made me think about the body dysphoria and identity crisis that Dan is likely going to go through post AGIT. I mean, think about it, he hasn't had a human body for more than a decade so he has to get used to that again. Remembering that he has to eat, sleep, etc and take care of himself.

In addition to this, his new body looks almost just like how he looked before he became Phantom. He is Danny but at the same time he isn't. He shares Danny's memories but he doesn't live the same life that he does nor has the same social circle. It would be like feeling you are just a clone of yourself, someone who doesn't belong in this timeline.

I wonder if Dan could get jealous about how Danny has everything while he has lost it all, some things that were out of his control (his family and friends, his creation). It would be very frustrating, specially because he doesn't know who to fully put the blame on his family and friends' death from his timeline.

[marrcelos]

lorenzo  zurzolo.  he/him.  cis male.    ›  spotted  at  the  met  steps,  marcelo  ‘mars’  valmount, most  likely  listening  to  hell  is  where  i  dreamt  of  u  and  woke  up  alone  by  blackbear  with  their  airpods  pro.  the  twenty  three  year  old  gained  quite  a  reputation,  known  to  be  - materialistic  yet  + determined  to  anyone  who  knows  them.  you’ll  easily  spot  them  when  you  hear  about   arguing  in  italian  over  the  phone  with  his  mother, nearly  shivering  in  disgust  at  the  sight  of  chipped  nail  polish, snorting  lines  of  coke  off  his  phone  as  his  agent  urgently  calls  him, designer  high  end  items  tossed  carelessly  as  if  they  have  no  value, claiming  it’s  'my  way  or  the  highway’ ,  followed  by  toy  boy  by  moschino.  latest  nepoupdates  article  talks  about  him  'allegedly’  hooking  up  with  a  married  teacher  at  university,  but  i  guess  any  reputation  is  good  reputation.  

basic stats ;

⟶ full name: marcelo leonardo valmount ⟶ nicknames: goes by mars, doesn’t mind being called marcelo either ⟶ three things he likes: getting high, discovering new vegan recipes, black nail polish ⟶ three things he dislikes: chipped nail polish, people who instigate, scary movies ⟶ gender: cis male ⟶ height: 5 ‘ 8 ⟶ age: twenty three ⟶ birthday: december 8, 1999 ⟶ zodiac: sagittarius sun, sagittarius moon, scorpio ascendant ⟶ right handed or left handed: right handed ⟶ eye color: baby blue ⟶ hair color: dark brown ⟶ piercings and tattoos: a cartilage piercing on his right ear, a small hoop piercing on his left earlobe, no tattoos ⟶ languages spoken: italian, spanish, and english ⟶ sexuality / romantic orientation: homosexual / homoromantic ⟶ place of birth: upper east side, new york ⟶ last five songs listened to: testa tra le nuvole pt. 2 by alfa, maradona y pelé by thegiornalisti, judas by lady gaga, la musica non c’è by coez, hell is where i dreamt of u and woke up alone by blackbear ⟶ five aesthetics: black nail polish, snorting coke off your phone as your mom calls you, golden eyeliner, baby blue eyes gazing into the sunset, impulsively shopping when you’re stressed ⟶ character inspo: eric effiong from sex education, maxxie oliver from skins u.k, patrick blanco from elite

background story ;

marcelo was born to an italian mother named martina incanti and an american father named richard valmount, the result of a high school love. his mother came from really old money, her parents owning hotel resorts called incanti inn ( literally equivalent to hilton hotels ) all around the world, while his father came from old money too, his parents owning a chain of water supplies ( similar to voss or smartwater ). regardless of how young his parents were, marcelo was practically born with a golden spoon in his mouth, spoiled to the bone and adored by his entire family

still, in every good story, there’s always a catch. before his mother came along, his father had impregnated another woman, meaning marcelo had an older half brother on his father’s side. when he was younger, he remembers his mother doing everything in her power to try and hide ace from him, but as time went on, she couldn’t stop the inevitable  –  marcelo eventually knew all about ace, even going as far as snooping around to figure out more things about his half brother

however, the curiosity to know one of his siblings went away as he realized what a problem ace and his mother were for his own mother and father, always being the number one cause of every fight they ever had. odds are that if marcelo’s parents were fighting, it had to do with ace, and he honestly grew sick of it 

was it really his fault that his father had chosen him and his mother instead and vice versa? admittedly, marcelo felt somewhat guilty about this as a kid, but the older he grew, the more okay with it he became. he figured that if his father had chosen them, it meant that he was obviously better than ace

this, and his entire upbringing, caused marcelo to grow a narcissistic complex. he began modeling at the tender age of six, for brands like gap, the children’s place, carter’s, you name it, and he’s probably modeled for it before. marcelo quickly became enamored with his looks, fully believing that first impressions and the way you looked to the world, was everything

he was also very academically intelligent, gifted in math and called the ‘human calculator’ by his teachers, as he could easily solve division, multiplication, addition and subtraction problems in his head without paper, in seconds. he went to a private, all boys school on the upper east side, singe handedly one of the best in the country

despite being book smart however, his real interest was in modeling and making a name for himself. in his early teen years, he booked a few commercials, and had a break through at fourteen when modeling for the popular luxury brand, gucci. when he was fifteen, he was officially signed to an agency, and from there on out, things grew more ‘intense’ for him, you could say

marcelo quickly realized just how big the competition was out there. for the first time, his last name didn’t mean anything to anyone, it was either bite or get bitten, and as much as he tried not to, he crumbled under pressure

! tws for eating disorders, fainting, hospitals and body dysphoria for the next four bullets, read with caution or skip over this if you’re triggered ! his habits start off so small at first, that he genuinely doesn’t see it as a problem. over exercising is only the beginning, but soon enough, he starts cautiously watching, and counting, the calories of the stuff he eats. when this isn’t proven to be enough, he switches to a vegan diet, and it just escalates from that point on

to be honest, he was never overweight. in fact, doctors would tell him he had to gain some weight in the past, but despite this, he didn’t feel good enough. more so, he felt like he could be better. he became obsessed with any little flaw he would pick out of himself and would work endlessly to fix it, or make it less noticeable. one of his more genuine friends in the modeling industry flat out told him he had a problem, but marcelo brushed it aside and kept ‘working’ on himself. by working on himself, i mean practically torturing himself with unhealthy diets and extreme exercise routines

the worst part is that he really didn’t think he had a problem. he struggled with an eating disorder and body dysphoria for six years, until one day, six months after his twenty first birthday, he ends up passing out during a photo shoot. waking up in the hospital, he’s told he has pretty bad malnutrition linked to an eating disorder and is recommended to seek help. at this point, he weighed ninety five pounds

it’s at this moment that he realizes that he’s not okay. this is a really rough time in his life, because not only do his parents find out about all his antics, but he feels ( somewhat forced ) to get better by not just them, but his friends and his fanbase. it’s also embarrassing for him, as this incident became publics news, so despite not being quite ready to get the help he needs, he ends up checking himself into an inpatient clinic in brooklyn that specializes in eating disorders and mental health. he’s there for three months and it’s basically hell for him, the hardest thing he’s ever had to do, but… he does get better. by a lot. ends up gaining the weight he needs and see’s a nutritionist to work out a ( healthy ) vegan diet for him

after this rather dark time in his life, he decides to go to college to study psychology and minor in nutrition and dietetics. here is where you could say that he ‘finds himself’, as people do the craziest things in their college years. first off, he develops a nasty coke habit, as lots of people in the industry do. he likes the way coke takes away your hunger, and he enjoys the way it makes him feel on top of the world and focused. second of all, he realizes he’s pretty damn gay

to be fair, he’s always had an idea that he wasn’t straight, but he assumed ( wrongly ) that he was bisexual for the longest time. it isn’t until college that he realizes he isn’t really romantically interested in females, hooking up with ( a lot ) of guys

! tw for student/teacher relationship, general inappropriate relationships, read with caution of skip over this if you’re triggered ! to make his life even harder, marcelo begins secretly hooking up with a history professor, who is really only thirty two, but he’s married, and supposedly ‘straight’ to everyone. this relationship is inappropriate and truth be told, marcelo isn’t even sure why he does it to begin with. because he likes attention? because he’s a gay whore? the validation he gives him? point is that this goes on for a couple of months, until, if you guessed it, they get caught. thankfully, this is managed to be kept under wraps and the professor he had been hooking up with transfers to another college, unfortunately? it gets to the ears of his parents, and he’s forced to come out to them a month before his twenty third birthday

honestly, marcelo thought his mother would take it the wrong way. she’s italian, she’s religious, and old school, but surprisingly? she’s the most supportive of him, gives him a hug and tells him she’s going to love him no matter what. his father though? there’s a reaction he wasn’t expecting at all

‘why would you do this to me?’ ‘why are you choosing this lifestyle? have you not embarrassed us enough with this?’ ‘why are you like this marcelo?’ ‘it’s like i don’t even know you anymore’ ‘if i would’ve known my son would turn out to be a fucking queer, i would’ve chosen my other family’ are just some of the many hurtful things he’s told that very night. he never thought his father would be so against him being gay, and it actually really hurts his feelings more than he let on because growing up, he had a very good relationship with his father. he taught him how to play piano, he spoiled him to no end, he was always really supportive of his choices, but this? this was something richard was simply not living down

things become so awkward with his father, he uses the money he makes modeling and through sponsorships and social media to buy a luxury penthouse near his college, wanting to be far away from him. at this moment, he can’t help but wonder  –  is this how ace has felt his whole life? 

headcanons ;

despite being fully recovered from his eating disorder, there are days where marcelo feels ready to give up. he wouldn’t go back to hurting himself the way he used to, but it’s still something he struggles with. he is really, really iffy about what he eats

ironically enough, he’s all about preaching about healthy living and eating right, then proceeds to take four lines of coke without even taking a break... hypocrite, much?

marcelo has thirty seven million followers on instagram and counting, and an equal amount on other social media platforms. he’s a model, an influencer, heir and a college student

he loves painting his nails. his favorite color to paint them is black, but he enjoys dark blue as well. he hates chipped nail polish, will literally run to get his nails re done the second he see’s a chip, usually does black gel or black powder dip

despite acting like he’s too good for everyone, marcelo secretly craves validation. whether it be with his friends or flings he’s had, he just wants to feel like he’s good enough for someone, because truthfully, despite having anything materialistic he could ever want, he doesn’t feel like he’s worthy of love, or deserving of it, but he craves it

he’s a huge vegan, has been a vegan for over a year now and will probably never go back. watch him look at you funny if he catches you eating a burger or something

marcelo loves animals, but is more of a cat person. he has a ragdoll cat he named draco meowfoy while drunk and would basically die for him

he’s been playing piano since he has five, but considers this to just be a fun hobby. he was taught by his father, and his top two favorite pieces to play are i love you by riopy and nuvole bianche by ludovico einaudi

he’s fluent in english, italian and spanish, and will strictly only speak in italian with his mother. despite not being born in italy, marcelo considers himself more italian than american

he loves music in italian too, especially italian love songs or italian edm songs. some of his favorite italian artists are shade, alfa and even thegiornalisti

he impulsively shops when he’s stressed, doesn’t even bother looking at the price tag anymore, just gets what he wants whenever he wants. he’s materialistic, and loves looking good

marcelo is the perfect definition of ‘money doesn’t buy happiness’ because he has everything anyone could ever want, but truthfully? he’s not happy. he feels alone, and no amount of shopping, drug usage, or partying, is going to fix that

i’m going to end this here because this is getting long, but below are some wanted connections and his birthchart!

wanted connections ;

get in loser, we’re going shopping: shopping buddies, could be any gender, but they just go out and spend a fuck ton of money on stuff they don’t even need, probably a superficial relationship

who are you again?: hear me out, someone he gave head to at a party but genuinely doesn’t remember it, but your muse does. like ‘wait isn’t that the guy who sucked my dick?’ and marcelo is just like ‘ha ha.... do i know you?’ literally this level of black out drunk

not sure how we’re friends... i mean, look at your shoes: a pair of very, very unlikely friends. they’re not even sure how they became friends, but it’s surprisingly a genuine friendship, could be very wholesome

i know what you did in college: someone who knew he was hooking up with a professor from college. could go to the same college or could have just been at the wrong place at the wrong time. how this muse replies is entirely up to you, could think marcelo is a legend, or could seriously judge him, i’m open for whatever

it’s meant to be. look, we’re both eating vegan eggplant parmesan!: literally became friends because they’re both vegans. text each other about new vegan recipes or new vegan spots they find around town, share the same love of not eating, consuming or messing with any animal products at all, they said animals are friends, not food!

i hate your stinking guts: someone who doesn’t like him. he’s very easy to hate. very entitled and acts like he’s better than everyone. your muse could hate him, or he could hate your muse

what? you can hate people and still think they’re hot: a classic hate ship, open to males/nb. they claim to really not like each other, yet always end up in each others beds, whether they’re drunk or sober, whatever the case might be

you’ve seen me naked before: people ( guys ) he’s hooked up with. he’s a whore so this is open to multiple guys. whether they still hook up or not can be plotted

i tried to warn you from the start: someone in the industry like him, who saw him getting bad and tried to help him, but marcelo wouldn’t listen to them. could be any gender, but this muse genuinely tried to help him at his lowest and he would just shake them off with an ‘i’m fine’. marcelo reached out to this muse when he got out of the hospital to thank them for trying to make him see he had a problem

from afar, i guess: maybe someone who has a crush on him, but he has no idea? could be interesting to play out

need a girls night? get in here, bitch: female friends! give me females he’s very good friends with, a gay bff if you must, and they just gossip, talk shit, watch romcoms and get into all types of shenanigans together!

you were the first guy in my life: first guy he’s ever hooked up with, helped him realize he’s gay. they could be on bad terms, on good terms, friends, still hooking up, i’m open to any ideas!

or, we could brainstorm!

birthchart ;

[montaners]

was that álvaro rico spotted down at the shoreline of east hamptons main beach? must just be camilo montaner the twenty seven year old model, influencer and heir. whenever i hear sirenas by taburete it reminds me of them. they are known for being argumentative but they make up for that by being determined. they have been living in the hamptons for two days.

basic stats ;

⟶ full name: camilo hernán montaner de luna ⟶ nicknames: no nicknames, absolutely hates being called cam. the only thing he hates more than that is being called milo  –  you might as well just slap him in the face while you’re at it ⟶ three things he likes: finding new vegan recipes, music in spanish, enrique iglesias ⟶ three things he dislikes: people who ask too many questions, dirty fingernails, bad mannerisms ⟶ gender: cis male ⟶ height: 5 ‘ 9 ⟶ age: twenty seven ⟶ birthday: december 5, 1995 ⟶ zodiac: sagittarius sun, aquarius moon, scorpio ascendant ⟶ right handed or left handed: fully ambidextrous ⟶ eye color: baby blue ⟶ hair color: black ⟶ piercings and tattoos: no piercings, no tattoos ⟶ languages spoken: spanish ( native tongue ), italian, and english ⟶ sexuality / romantic orientation: homosexual / homoromantic ⟶ place of birth: barcelona, spain ⟶ last five songs listened to: en esta habitación by libido, no te preocupes por mi by leiva, testa tra le nuvole pt. 1 by alfa, manda una señal by maná, el perdedor by enrique iglesias ft. marco antonio solís ⟶ five aesthetics: jetting off somewhere because you’re bored, stress shopping, light blue eyes gazing into the sunset, getting up at 5 am for a daily morning jog, being the pickiest eater known to mankind ⟶ character inspo: ander muñoz from elite, isak valtersen from skam ( og skam ), brando pacitto from baby

background story ;

camilo was born to britta incanti and lorenzo montaner in barcelona, spain. his mother is an italian model and fashion designer who was miss italy in 1993, and runner up for miss universe in 1994, and his father is owner and heir of hotel and resort chains called montaner ( literally equivalent to hilton hotels ). needless to say, his family on both sides comes from a lot of money, and have pretty much bought into anything you can think of. gas companies, gastronomy business, electric, you name it, his family is somehow involved

camilo, being an only child, grew up with anything materialistic anyone could ever think of. all he had to do was point, and it was being handed to him without any type of questions. he was spoiled, practically born with a golden spoon in his mouth, in the public eye. his family was widely known in europe and also had business’ world wide, which meant he had a rather public life since he could remember

to anyone, his upbringing sounds like a wet dream, and in a way, it kind of was. i say ‘in a way’ because his life isn’t as picture perfect as everyone thinks it is. simply put, his parents were never really present. he grew up with the best help money could buy  –  nannies, butlers, personal chefs, maids, people who worked for his family and treated him like he was the last cup of water in the middle of the desert. he had it all, minus the people who were supposed to love him the most

they missed his birthdays, christmas, important holidays, things that any parent should be present for, they were never around. instead, he was always surrounded by people who were literally paid to care for him. he was never really held as a child, never hugged when he was sad or sick, and because of his rather cold upbringing, this made camilo an equally cold person

due to constantly being in the public eye, he became cynical and calculated. in his eyes, everything was a game. nothing was unattainable to him because of his hefty wallet and no one was genuinely worthy of his time. at least, this is what he grew up thinking

he grew up feeling an insane amount of pressure. despite his parents not being around, they always let him know that what the world thought of them, the idea people had of him, was everything. the way he looked and acted was all that mattered, and carrying this with him since he could remember was a lot to deal with

he quickly became obsessed with his physical appearance. what he wore, down from his shirt to his shoes, how his hair looked, how his skin appeared and his weight especially, became everything for him. camilo would rather die than go out wearing sweats or looking anything less than impeccable  –  he simply had to look his best or he wouldn’t go out at all

his earlier years consisted of traveling a lot. he lived in his mother’s hometown in the amalfi coast in italy for a few years, traveled back and forth to any country his heart desired, and would leave as soon as he grew bored with where he was staying at

by the time he’s fourteen, he decides to move to los angeles to start high school there, mostly so he could better his english, but also because his family had contacts there and he knew a few celebrities

this is how he meets his first ever boyfriend, dani, when he’s sixteen. truth be told, camilo wasn’t a fan of him at first. they were polar opposites and he considered dani to ‘not be at his level’. he doesn’t know how it happens, but he somehow makes his way into camilo’s cold ass heart, and soon enough, they begin to date. dani was someone camilo would have never considered, but he basically falls head over heels for him. he’s the first person who makes camilo feel less cynical, like he doesn’t have to be perfect or do everything so impeccably so. he makes him feel real, like he actually matters to someone and isn’t just a display case for the world to judge. simply put, he makes him feel things he never thought he would feel before, makes him see things from a completely different perspective

unfortunately, this romance is short lived when dani disappears one day, with no warning. camilo tries not to let it get to him, but he’s so hurt by this move, he ends up going to a boarding school in san francisco and finishes high school there, heading back to his hometown, barcelona, two days after his graduation

at this point, his trust issues are at an all time high. he has a very difficult time letting people in and mostly maintains superficial relationships with everyone, without much depth, or any depth at all, really

he basically becomes even more obsessed with his physical appearance, especially when he gets signed to a modeling agency by the time he’s nineteen. to camilo, the way he looks becomes everything to him, up to the point where it becomes unhealthy

he’s modeled for a few brands in the past before, but when he actually gets signed to an agency is when he starts to feel the pressure. being around his peers, for the first time in his life, he doesn’t feel like he’s above them. in fact, he feels inferior to them. some of the names are so big, that the importance of his last name doesn’t mean anything to them. never wanting to be below anyone, he starts working extra hard to make sure he’s on their level, or better than they are

! tws for eating disorders, fainting, hospitals and body dysphoria for the next four bullets, read with caution or skip over this if you’re triggered ! his habits start off so small at first, that he genuinely doesn’t see it as a problem. over exercising is only the beginning, but soon enough, he starts cautiously watching, and counting, the calories of the stuff he eats. when this isn’t proven to be enough, he switches to a vegan diet, and it just escalates from that point on

to be honest, he was never overweight. in fact, doctors would tell him he had to gain some weight in the past, but despite this, he didn’t feel good enough. more so, he felt like he could be better. he became obsessed with any little flaw he would pick out of himself and would work endlessly to fix it, or make it less noticeable. one of his more genuine friends in the modeling industry flat out told him he had a problem, but camilo brushed it aside and kept ‘working’ on himself. by working on himself, i mean practically torturing himself with unhealthy diets and extreme exercise routines

the worst part is that he really didn’t think he had a problem. he struggled with an eating disorder and body dysphoria for over six years, until one day, six months after his twenty sixth birthday, he ends up passing out during a photo shoot. waking up in the hospital, he’s told he has pretty bad malnutrition linked to an eating disorder and is recommended to seek help. at this point, he weighed ninety seven pounds ( almost forty four kilograms )

it’s at this moment that he realizes that he’s not okay. despite not being quite ready to get the help he needs, he ends up checking himself into an inpatient clinic in madrid that specializes in eating disorders and mental health. he’s there for three months and it’s basically hell for him, the hardest thing he’s ever had to do, but... he does get better. by a lot. ends up gaining the weight he needs and see’s a nutritionist to work out a ( healthy ) vegan diet for him. after leaving said clinic, he goes back to los angeles to continue working on his modeling career and meet his sponsors. he’s there until december, and afterwards, makes the decision to move to long island in a pent house his parents own, wanting to be far away from anyone he’s ever known and start fresh

headcanons

truth be told, camilo still does struggle a lot with his weight and appearance. he knows better at this point, but it’s still something he deals with on a daily basis. his habits aren’t unhealthy anymore, but he’s a very picky eater. he’s literally the type of person to separate food on his plate and eat it in different sections, one at a time. he will probably never go back to harming himself the way he did for so long, but he still carries that part of his life with him. he has a healthy diet and exercise routine now, but god knows it took him a while to get there

he can be a real pain in the ass when it comes to keeping things clean. i wouldn’t say he’s ocd, but he can be a borderline neat freak. things have to be tidy otherwise he literally can’t sleep

he enjoys drinking alcohol from time to time, but that’s about it. he hates weed because of the munchies and used to chain smoke cigarettes, but thankfully, that’s a habit he’s broken out of. he’s tried coke and dabbled with it back in spain when he was going through everything he was going through because he liked how it takes away your hunger, but he doesn’t really do anything now, claims he’s ‘high off life’

even though he makes it seem like he doesn’t want anyone or is too good for anyone, deep down inside, camilo really wants to be loved. he wants a boyfriend who will turn into his husband, he wants a kid and a house, and he wants an actual future with someone, despite showing anyone who has ever been interested in him romantically the complete opposite ( minus dani rip )

he has a cat he named draco meowfoy, clever twist on his favorite movie and book character, draco malfoy. his cat is one year old and a ragdoll cat, basically the sweetest cat ever, acts more like a dog than anything

he’s a model and an influencer, future heir to the business’ his family owns. he has thirty five million followers on instagram, and an equivalent amount on tiktok and other social media platforms. he has a ton of money besides that, but he makes a very good amount of money on sponsorships ( his favorite ones so far have been brands like adidas and colgate )

when you really get to know him ( which is rare ), he’s goofy. nothing like that ‘i’m better than you’ persona he puts on for the whole world to see. he has an idiot side to him that likes corny jokes and puns, enjoys knitted sweaters and dad jokes

he plays piano, has been playing since he was four years old, but this is a rather hidden talent of his. he’s a huge example of ‘what you see isn’t what you get’ because people tend to meet him and make up their minds on who he is, but the truth is that he has a ton of layers, a ton of hidden parts of himself that very few people, if not no one, really know of

camilo is also a huge example of ‘money doesn’t buy happiness’ because he has anything materialistic any person could ever dream of having, but deep down inside, he’s not genuinely happy. he definitely has depression, but doesn’t take medication for it

he wants to live a relaxed life here, far away from the chaos that was barcelona and the shit show that was los angeles. he wants a place where people don’t really know who he is, somewhere he doesn’t feel pressure to be ‘perfect’

when he does let you in, he’s loyal. he doesn’t believe in cheating on people and will defend you until the end if he considers you a true person and genuinely likes you. if he doesn’t, it’s the complete opposite. he can be a very fake person for the sake of being ‘diplomatic’, but will literally trash talk you if he isn’t a fan of you. he can say everything to your face as well, but prefers to subtweet about you if you’re not someone he’s fond of

he was offered a spot on a reality tv show in spain with other models, living in a mansion and getting into shenanigans, but he turned it down. the show was similar to ‘hype house’ and he feels like he dodged a bullet with that one

he is a huge fan of enrique iglesias, has been to six of his concerts and has personally met him three times. loves him to death, literally man crush monday all day every day

he has the tiniest accent when speaking english. it’s barely noticeable and will become more prominent if he’s really angry, but for the most part, his english is really, really good. he’s fluent in spanish, english and italian, and even though he speaks all three languages perfectly, his preferred language is spanish, and literal thought process is in spanish as well

i’m gonna end this here because this is long as hell, but below is his birthchart for some extra tea!

birthchart ;

[riverpatel]

what are they confident about? // talk about their moral alignment.

River is actually pretty confident with their body. It took a lot of work and introspection to get there, however. They still struggle with body image and some dysphoria from time to time but mostly they have grown to love their body and are very comfortable showing it off to the world. The one insecurity being their insulin pump, which they find extremely unsexy and embarrassing despite it being something that actively keeps them alive. Everything else about themselves is still a work in progress.

-

"Chaotic good, all the way. When Stevie Knicks belted out 'You can go your own way' with Fleetwood Mac, I absorbed it and took it quite personal, baby. My motto." River is the prime example of do no harm but take no shit. They have always forged their own path in the world and have been extremely lucky to have people like Bowie, Fox, and Trix that have gone on it with them along with others they've collected on the way. They always try to go out of their way to help others in any way they can, they stand up to people who are treating others badly, and are always willing to share their opinion. River follows their own heart and it doesn't always line up with society's moral standards, but it is never inherently bad or harmful.

[whatcha-thinkin]

Tell your stories in the tags, if you want to share!

[ofdualism]

@quirkbeat

It was one of those godforsaken days where Tomura woke from his slumber with absolute disgust with himself. He should have slept with his bandages on so he didn't feel his damn breasts when he sat up. A low groan left him, eyes looking down at his shirt, frowning even more at the 'lumps' that was there underneath his shirt. Sometimes he didn't care about them and could ignore them, but today was not one of those days.

He stood from the old ripped up couch that was in his room. Bare feet hitting the cold wood floor underneath him. The floor boards creaking at every step he took. His hands moved down to the hem of his shirt, grasping it and pulling it over his head. It was time to put bandages around his chest again. One hand dropped the shirt on the floor while the other hand moved to start scratching at his neck. The itchiness coming on early in the morning and his dysphoria probably made the want to scratch his skin off worse.

He walked over to his bag to retrieve more bandages to wrap around his chest. But when he looked in the bag, he couldn't find any. He thrashed around inside the bag, frantic to find them but he came up empty handed. He shouldn't have thrown the old ones he was wearing out. Damnit!

His breathing got a little bit heavier as he started to thrash around the room, not caring to be quiet. They had to be here! He surely didn't use the last of them a few weeks ago did he? He only threw them out due to them getting too disgusting to wear but he was sure he had more!

His right hand dug more into his flesh, feeling the warmth of his blood start to slowly trickle out. He didn't care though, actually it was the only comfort he was getting right now. Otherwise he might turn the entire hideout to dust.

He threw things off the shelves with his free hand, opening drawers of a broken dresser to see if they were in there. His left hand grabbing and throwing anything that wasn't the bandages. He was so in distress that he didn't hear the creak of the door behind him opening. It was only when he heard his last name being yelled, that Tomura stopped. At least thrashing around but his right hand kept digging into his neck.

He slowly turned his head to look behind him. Red eyes glaring at whoever the fuck was at his door. But once he saw it was just Dabi, his glare became a little less deadly. Since Dabi was one of the select few that knew he was transgender, he fully turned his body to face him, not caring he was shirtless. If Dabi hadn't had known though, he would have kept his back facing him.

"What do you want?!" It was a question but he was nearly yelling, his voice filled with irritation.

[punk-dad-sharkz]

i hate talking about dysphoria with cis ppl because they immediately clock it as body dysmorphia, and only as body dysmorphia. (i say only bc some trans ppl can and do experience both)

i can't talk about how i hate how my thighs make me feel/look feminine because they always say "but you look fine!" or "i think you look amazing!" or "but you should love them!"

and it's so hard to describe dysphoria, especially to ppl who don't experience it, or who don't want to understand it isn't dysmorphia

and no matter how hard you try to explain they always try to make you love this body you have because "you should love yourself as you are!"

but i do love myself. but not quite exactly how i am. i love what i know I can be. i love knowing that one day i'll have top surgery scars i can trace with my fingers and a scratchy beard from T. i love knowing that I can eventually do my silly little effeminate gestures without hating how it makes me look. i love knowing that eventually i can look in a mirror and grin at the man i've become.

but that's not right now. i may cry a little when a shirt doesn't fit the way it should, but i don't hate the body that makes it that way. I may feel a pit in my stomach when I realize the way that i'm standing makes me look girly, but i don't hate that i'm standing that way.

i don't hate that i used to be a girl but i hate when people still think i am.

i don't hate my body, i just hate how it isn't what it's supposed to be quite yet. could that make any sense to the cis folks reading this?

I am trans and I love my body, just sometimes it doesn't love me back. and one day it will.

[bonmotx]

record 5: The milk calcified the useless lump in her heart.

Something has broken. It’s a loud noise. The world is a blur in her head. It’s all so loud. It’s all so quiet.

Something has broken. It’s a loud noise. Someone is crying. There’s a lukewarm sugar in her brain. 

Something has broken. The world is splintered around her.

Something has broken. Someone is crying.

“My child… my child…”

A dog is barking.

“My wife… she doesn’t remember…”

All the evil things in the world speak. All the dismissed things in the world speak at once, yet she can hear every voice as clear as glass.

Her fingers ache.

Someone too depressed to go to work wails. The prostitute wails. The soldier on the wrong side wails. A child born blind wails.  Every misfortunate soul screams and cries out into the world, Their screaming is thundering, but their surrender is deafening.

Ah. Is that the point?

All these people. These beings. Lost in an empty space. It almost tastes like milk-

Oh. That’s what happened.

She fell.

There was a scream. There was not enough time to respond. The Master is the clearest threat to the one who seeks to keep his position as the final god of this world.

A single lunge. A single swipe.

Sophia Vogel-Westenra stood on the Shadow Border.

Sophia Vogel-Westenra fell off of the Shadow Border.

Sophia Vogel-Westenra reached out her hand.

Sophia Vogel-Westenra locked eyes with her murderer.

Sophia Vogel-Westenra and The Final God’s gaze met.

Sophia Vogel-Westenra reached out her hand.

Sophia Vogel-Westenra plunged into the milk sea.

Everything in the milk sea at the origin of the universe was colorless and inscrutable. The people sang, uncountable. Their songs were filled with grief and rage and yet, their nonexistent emotions were buried away, because they weren’t important. This empty white space was where everything deemed not right for the world was placed. All at once, she was swallowed and embraced by that miserable nothingness.

Perhaps it was fitting that she fell here.

...everyone would be okay…

...so maybe…

She could just…

...close her eyes for a moment…

…and listen to the singing of the sea.

...no. 

...this sea isn’t singing.

It’s screaming, like a child taking its first breath.

The wails become a harmony. Something understandable. The lost flowers, the scattered arms of eaten gods. Every lost life exists here- yet that’s not right.

It wasn’t lost.

It was put here.

It was killed.

It was sacrificed so that a perfect world may exist. It was sacrificed for one person’s own ambitions. Everything here was murdered and put together into one being, and they all occupied this space combined together, individuality lost into the sea. 

That person put them here. Put everything here he didn’t want to look at. This place was made up of everything ungainly and unsightly, everything deemed defective. This sea of sacrifice, of suffering, where she now was placed.

It made her angry.

Who was he to choose? Who was that blue eyed god to choose? (Eyes were more grey, but they’re cold as ice.) Why does this blood that drips from her mouth feel so cold? (The ice killed her. It has taken root in her.) All this screaming has become a beautifully frigid noise, sliced through violin strings, a broken piano. 

(The funeral song of rage and grief played as the Master of Chaldea dies not from a dramatic action but because her suit failed and she froze to death.)

(A death devoid of purpose or meaning, not a murder or a suicide or anything with intent. Just an empty, sad accident.)

Who was he to choose? Who were they to choose?

Ah. The death of her parents, too, was a sacrifice, chosen by her, and her own mortality has become a sacrifice for her life to continue. Every life is just a grain of sand on the scales of a selfish being that wants to mold the word into their shape. Everything has been reduced to nothing but this, this idea of perfection that spat in the face of those who walked and talked and breathed and lived, lived, lived-

It’s all so obvious. 

(Something calcifies in her chest.)

All of this, all of this here, from the first god who reached a hand to a lost son, to the most very recent victims of the cycle, and everyone and everything in between, can all fall under the label of sacrifice.

And that… was something she could reach out to.

Sophia nearly laughed. 

She could grab it, and use it like she was used.

No human could survive this.

But it was fine.

Because she finally realized [                                                        ]-

The world outside continued for the seconds that passed. There was not enough time to respond with anything of value.

But those seconds resulted in something odd.

It was a cough, wet and choking.

The final god’s Arjuna stomach bulges out. Something swallowed up like any other sacrifice presses up to the surface and cuts its way out of him, falling to the ground in a duet with another sickeningly wet noise.

A piece of metal, ragged like a ripped piece of paper, not even a proper blade, a swan song in a solid form.

Something crawls from the milk. 

She could never know the reactions to this rebirth, but she knows that feathers drip from her body like puss, swollen under her skin and pushing through like something unnatural. Her tongue can feel something pushing from her gums before it pierces through, a sudden relief from the pressure that had been mounting. Her hands are twisting. Webbing and patches of fur make her fingers contort into new and fascinating shapes. Yet even as she cannot breathe, and her body erupts into a more violent change with each ragged cough, she grins at a pain she can finally, finally, control.

Sophia Vogel-Westenra tries to grab her chest as she hacks something up, something solid and squirming in her throat, blocking the air from her lungs, and she can’t breathe. It hangs from her mouth and the swirling blur of the lack of air makes her grab it and rip, and she can feel something wet drip from the corner of her mouth as she takes in a pure breath of oxygen and ozone and iron, and when she looks down-

Her own heart has fallen onto the ground, twitching and pulsing as it changes forms around the single, unchanging patch of flesh, where a rune is dug in like a brand. It is still because it is bone and calcified flesh, and without thinking, trembling hands reach out to it.

Every finger is different, and the sharpest two take the firm, boney thing in-between them.

They ask what it felt like. It was pain. It was clarity. It was the way the shards of shattered bone dug into her convulsing hands.

She screamed.

It felt wonderful.

[uncanny-tranny]

The whole "breasts shouldn't be politicized because the primary purpose of breasts is to feed babies!" can be a fine jumping-off point, but I really wish people thought deeper than that when we talk about the ways in which bodies are politicized and restricted.

Like, why's it that when we talk about breasts, they must have some Higher Purpose? It's true that breasts aren't inherently sexual, but they aren't valuable solely because they can potentially feed a baby. A human body doesn't have to serve a Higher Purpose in order for it to not be legislated against or policed, and I just wish people would remember it isn't always about babies, about other people, about anything else other than the people who have that body.

[elegancemultimuse]

"It is just a silly mistake I made when I was young." Juliette said as there was a lot of stuff she would have gone back and done differently. There was more to life than being worried about what you would look like on camera. It took her far too many years to figure that out. "I am comfortable with who I am now but back then I needed the attention."

“I get it. Being a host and a sugar baby had it’s perks.” He holds out the bottle of soda. “I say live well now. Who cares? You’re gorgeous in any shape and form. Fuck whoever tells you otherwise. I get it though, I had to have abs the whole time I was a host. You know how hard it is to have visible abs? You gotta practically starve yourself..”

[queerism1969]

[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.

[eddiemunsonspantschain]

The Boyfriend Experience - EM

Author's Note: This is very personal to me. I wrote this about my experieces and facts about myself. Which I know isn't very reader insert friendly but as my friend @boomhauer had said, for all I know, I'm not alone in this. This will be a mini series. Idk how many parts it will have but I wanted to do more than one.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x virgin!reader

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of weight, mentions of being overweight, body image issues, body dysphoria, self deprication, sexual experiences, lack of sexual experience, teasing, angst.

You do not have permission to copy, translate or repost my work onto other sites or social medias. This work is my own and it is owned by me.

Having a large friend group was nice. Nice enough, at least for you. Between the Hellfire boys and the party you were fortunate enough to have many friends. You were close to the party the most over the shared trauma of the upside down and things that go bump in the night. It was easy to be open with them so some topics of conversation didn’t bother you… until certain comments were made. You had never intended to let the information about yourself shift the dynamic of your friendships. At this point in your life, you had reluctantly accepted a fact about yourself when it came to romantic relationships and activities. However, your friend groups learning that you were a virgin even now past graduating high school seemed to change everything. It wasn’t like you wanted to seek out the first willing male participant and ‘get it over with’ as some past friends had told you to do before. You didn’t want that for yourself. It didn’t feel right for you.

The unfortunate thing about it was that no one was into you. That was something you had concluded on your own in your own time. It was either the pudge of your stomach and the squishiness of other parts of your body or simply your personality. You weren’t sure. Maybe it was all of it. You had spent many a time pinching, poking and prodding at your body in the mirror as tears silently slid down your cheeks. Most of the time you avoided reflective surfaces all together as it shattered the illusion of what you thought and wished you looked like. One look in a reflection made your confidence dwindle down to nothing like something small being dropped off of a skyscraper just to shatter on impact at the pavement below. So you wore baggy clothes. Hiding your figure was better than being gawked at for trying to wear clothes other girls, skinnier girls, pulled off effortlessly. The hammer that hit the nail on the head was when you noticed some things. Was it other people’s fault? No, it wasn’t. But when you went out with friends who were deemed more attractive than you and people approached them to talk to them while you stood there, drink in hand. It was hard not to notice. The icing on the cake had been the one time you were left standing at the bar, all your friends off talking to someone in the bar that had approached them while you played with the condensation that dripped down onto the bartop. 

You lacked social experiences. You had never been on a date before, never had a boyfriend either. You had a first kiss at least though it had been a long time ago. How your friends didn’t know this, you had no idea. A rousing game of truth or dare brought this information to light for everyone. The kids weren’t invited as it was an adults only party Steve had decided to throw. The Hellfire boys, Nancy, Robin, Steve, Jonathan and Argyle as well as yourself all sat in a circle with your respective drinks in hand. It had been your turn, so you chose truth, wanting a break for a moment as the dares got more daring as time went on and more alcohol was consumed. Drinking the ‘mega condiment’ as Argyle named it–a mixture of literally every condiment housed in the Harrington fridge–was not on your list of things to drink that night. Especially after seeing Robin gag after taking a sip of it. 

The Harrington house was big enough to house all of you. Not to mention a supplemental bar for when you all ran out of what you brought with yourselves. These ‘adults only’ parties tended to last all night with drinks, food and usually crashing there. At times it was movies or more importantly drinking games that were played at these events. Tonight the stack of playing cards had been retired early in favor of Truth or Dare. Jeff hummed as he thought over what he could ask you. His eyes lit up as he figured out his question. “Who did you lose your virginity to?” He asked you with a grin. It wasn’t uncommon for these question to get more personal and daring the more you all drank. So you weren’t necessarily surprised at the topic but the fact that it had been aimed at you, one of the only single people in attendance. Normally, these embarrassing personal questions were aimed at the couples.

You felt your cheeks warm in embarrassment. As everyone waited for their answer, you simply looked away from Jeff and took a swig from your drink to avoid answering. That was one rule that had been put in place. You could opt out by drinking your drink. No questions asked. Or at least, no requirement to answer.

“Must be embarrassed about who it is.” Gareth chuckled with a small shrug as he drained the last of his beer.

“Or she didn’t lose it at all.” Jeff playfully jokes, but something on your face must have given it away as Jeff’s eyes widened in realization. “You haven’t lost it?!” He gasped.

“How? You’re like… in your twenties.” 

“I just haven’t. Alright?” You practically snapped at Gareth and Jeff.

“Well, have you come close? Like on a date getting hot and heavy with someone?” Steve asked, leaning over to hand Gareth another beer after popping the bottle cap off with his bare hand.

“No… I’ve never been on a date so,” You mumbled into your cup as you took another drink.

“You’ve never been on a date?!” Nancy asked, shock written on her face. “I thought Ethan when we were soph-”

“Yeah. He stood me up and made jokes about it for a week after.” You cut Nancy off with a tight smile. “I’m not girlfriend material, apparently. Now if you’ll excuse me.” You pushed yourself off of the floor and headed for Steve’s kitchen to make yourself another drink. Your cheeks were hot with embarrassment and you could feel tears threatening to breach the barrier of your lower lashes. At times, you could brave the embarrassment of being a virgin at your age. However now again you found yourself longing for something you had not had the privilege of having. Yearning for a connection to someone who likes you for who you are, not necessarily what you look like. When those feelings hit you, it was hard not to be hurt at the realization that you might never have these experiences. You could hear laughter in the other room, the immediate assumption in your fragile state that it was about you. Your lower lip wobbled as you opened the container of cranberry juice, pouring a full glass of it knowing adding more alcohol would make it harder to compose yourself now and you’d like to leave with a shred of your dignity left intact.

“Enough.” You heard Eddie’s voice snap, presumably at the Hellfire boys as he usually reigned them in. You sniffled, wiping at your cheeks quickly before going to grab the hoodie you had abandoned on the back of a kitchen chair earlier. You needed the comfort, shielding your body away before you trudged back into the room of your friends with your mask back on firmly in place.

Since then, things have been different. Your lack of experiences, lack of romance and lack of self confidence were sore spots for you. Some told you you simply weren’t trying hard enough. As if it were that easy to just make people like you. Or want you for more than just what was between your thighs or under your shirt. As if anyone would want to see that. Since the night of the party, the group made it a point to keep certain topics of conversation to a minimum or overall stopping the conversation when you joined the group. As if they didn’t think you would notice. It was hard to ignore that the topics of recent date nights ceased the second you were close enough to them all. With hushed ‘later’s, ‘not now’s and ‘I’ll finish telling you later’s being the main indication when you manage to hear them.

“Okay, I’ll bite.” You sighed as you crossed your arms over the counter of Family Video, looking at Steve and Robin expectantly. You had heard their conversation when you walked in there but when you approached the counter Steve had quickly shushed Robin from talking further. “What are you both talking about?” You asked.

“Nothing, nothing.” Robin waved you off with a smile as she rang up the movie you had brought over.

“I was just telling Robin about my date the other night. After we had dinner we started getting hot and heavy in my car, went to Lovers Lake to have-”

“Shh! Steve, innocent ears! We have to keep her purity intact.” Robin shushed him, smacking him in the chest.

Your face fell. “Excuse me?” You asked Robin in a clipped tone, not bothering to hide your anger and annoyance.

The air had shifted as had the mood. Robin’s face fell as she realized that her joke had not been amusing to you but instead upset you. “It’s just that… No, Y/N. I didn’t mean it like that!” Robin apologized quickly.

You scoffed, pulling your wallet out and throwing cash onto the counter to cover the movie and a packet of Red Vines. “Thanks.” You mumbled, snatching up the movie and a packet of Red Vines before heading out of the store quickly.

—----------

It was movie night. That was the reason for your trip into Family Video that week. The Hellfire group would have a movie night once every week or so. Everyone brought in a movie and you all would decide which ones to watch. You sat on the couch, always having privileges for the couch per Eddie’s orders since in his words: you are the lady here. You sat beside Eddie, sharing your Red Vines with him while he shared his popcorn with you. Since that day in Family Video you hadn’t seen neither Steve nor Robin, actively avoiding both of them. You had mumbled an acceptance of Robin’s apology when she called but hadn’t wanted to see either of them. It got worse though. Almost all of your friends had made a joke about your lack of experience thus far. If there wasn’t a joke about it there was reassurance that didn’t feel so reassuring. Nancy had tried to reassure you that there was nothing wrong with being a virgin still at your age. Eddie, Jonathan and Argyle seemed to be the only ones smart enough to not make any comments about the subject. Something you praised God for. Now it was the end of the week and you were just ready for everyone to move past this once and for all. 

On the screen in front of you was a horror movie. Something you weren’t unfamiliar with. You sighed as you sunk into the couch with Eddie. You watched as two teens snuck away with the intention of having fun with one another and felt your mood sour. You waited for it. Some kind of comment to be passed your way.

“These are always so cheesy and these parts? Boring.” Lucas complained, tossing pieces of popcorn at the screen itself.

“That’s because you’ve never experienced it, Sinclair.” Gareth laughed, nudging the other boy.

“As if he should listen to any advice from you.” Eddie nudged Gareth with his foot.

“I’m full of advice! Good advice!” He argued back with Eddie.

“Suuure you are.” You added, “None of you seem like you’d know what to do anyway. Just fumble and ask where things are.”

“Oh, please!” Freak laughed and grinned at you. “Here’s something we can at least tell you, Y/N.” His tone took on one you would use when speaking to a child, “When a man and a woman love each other, his peepee goes in the hole between your legs. That’s where you put it. In case you didn’t know since you’re still a virgin.”

“Freak, knock it off.” Eddie hissed in his direction.

You didn’t even dignify him with an answer. You stood up, stepping over Gareth and Jeff as you made your way to the door. 

“Y/N?” Eddie called, but you didn’t dare look behind you. Instead, you slid your jacket onto your body, picked up your bag and threw open the door to Eddie’s trailer deciding to leave the movie you rented there.

You hopped down onto the porch, the screen door behind you smacking shut loudly as you bounded off the porch and over to your car. You heard the door open back up behind you and Eddie called out your name again. You ignored him, sliding into your car and peeling away from the trailer park like your ass was on fire. You gripped the steering wheel tightly, ignoring the tears sliding down your cheeks. It was one thing to hear jokes that you were still a virgin. It was another thing to have people demean you thinking you were innocent and didn’t know anything because of it. You weren’t a fucking child. You knew probably more than they did about the female body and what to do. Years of hearing your peers talk about it had been informative enough. 

As soon as you got to your apartment, you shuffled yourself inside and shut the door tightly behind you. You crumbled. You were embarrassed and upset, wanting to just crawl in a hole and forget this week had ever happened. You pulled yourself up, trudging to the bathroom and taking a hot shower before pulling on panties, sweatpants and a tank top deciding to leave the death trap on the floor of the bathroom. You moved to the living room, seeking out a new movie to put on in the hopes it would distract yourself from the disastrous night. You put on one of your favorites before tucking yourself into your couch with your favorite fuzzy blanket and pillow. You only got through about fifteen minutes of the film before there was a knock on your door. You ignored it, favoring pretending you weren’t home or didn’t exist than face whoever was on the other side of that wooden barrier. The knocking came again, harder and more insistent this time.

“Go away!” You called out to the door. You assumed it was Freak, Gareth and Jeff. No doubt sent there by Eddie to apologize for upsetting you. He never let the other guys bother you too much. 

“Open up, sweetheart. It’s me.” The man you thought had sent others to your door was actually the one behind it.

“No.” You called back out. You were thankful that Eddie didn’t make fun of you like the others did or comment on it. But you were embarrassed and felt ugly. 

“Please? I have something for you.” You sighed. Knowing Eddie he would either camp out in front of your door or more likely pick your lock or climb through your window in your bedroom if you didn’t let him in. You pulled yourself up off the couch and went to the door, unlocking it and opening up the door. His smile was wide and bright when you opened the door. His arms were laden with items and he nudged you with his foot. “May I come in?” He asked you, batting his lashes at you.

You stepped aside, letting the lanky metalhead into your home. Eddie moved inside of your apartment quickly and you watched him like he was some foreign entity in your home. Eddie had been in your apartment before but never alone with you. It was always accompanied by one of your friends. He had just never come here by himself. You wouldn’t have thought so though as he effortlessly placed down the items in his arms. He had a pizza box with him, two shopping bags and a backpack on his back. From the plastic bags he pulled out some beer, candy and movies presumably from his own home. “What’re you doing here, Eddie?” You sighed, shutting your door and moving back to your couch. You burrowed yourself under your blanket again, pillow tucked behind your back. “Where are the guys?”

“Well, you left clearly upset, and I kicked the guys out.” Eddie answered nonchalantly. He stopped his movements of sorting out the treats he brought to look at you. “They shouldn’t have said what they said.” He spoke softly, watching you.

You took a breath. “Thank you… You didn’t have to come here though.” You mumbled, crossing your arms.

“I wanted to.” Eddie waved you off. “Now, I’m gonna go change cause we’re having a sleepover. I have your favorite.” He flipped open the pizza box to reveal your favorite toppings. “I will be back!” He took his backpack into your bedroom. You leaned over, assessing the pizza and snacks he had brought with him for you. You took a slice of pizza and gently began munching on it, trying to fight off the negative thoughts about how this food wasn’t good for you and wouldn’t help your situation but only deepen the purple stretch marks on your stomach and thighs.

When Eddie returned, he was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a faded Judas Priest t-shirt. He dropped down onto the couch on the opposite side of you and picked up a slice of pizza, taking a huge bite out of the food. He settled down, wiggling your blanket out from under him to get under the fabric and be comfortable with you. You both sat like that for a while, watching the movie you had put on and eating the pizza. Eventually one of the movies Eddie had brought with him was put on. You both fell into a comfortable silence but you knew it would eventually break.

As the second movie played you were about halfway through it when Eddie finally spoke up. “Do you wanna talk about it?” He asked you, turning his head to look at you. You turned your head to meet his eyes and felt your walls crumble. You wanted to say no… but with Eddie’s gaze on you, it was hard to compose yourself. You flashed back to what happened not too long ago and over the week in general. You didn’t realize that more tears began to slide down your cheeks. “I’m just so sick of everyone thinking I’m innocent just because I haven’t fucked someone. I’m not an idiot. I’m not a child. I fucking know things.” You sobbed quietly, hurriedly wiping at your cheeks. “It’s not my fault I’m not the kind of girl anyone wants.” You felt the couch shift as Eddie moved closer, the weight of his arm falling over your shoulders. He moved your legs over his lap, tucking you into his side as you cried. “They act like it was somehow my choice. Like I haven’t wanted to have a boyfriend, have sex, go on dates, be loved by someone. If it were my choice I would’ve done all those things! But no one is interested in me. How is that my fault?” You babbled on, tucking your face against Eddie’s chest and finding comfort in the smell of him.

“First of all, they were wrong to make you seem like you don’t know shit. Second of all, you are absolutely the kind of girl people want. Smart people who have eyes and aren’t selfish assholes. I know if you had the choice, you would’ve done those things. Clearly, since this upsets you so much, babe. There’s nothing wrong with taking your time.” Eddie spoke softly, his thumb rubbing your skin comfortingly as he spoke.

“Sure, Eddie. Whatever you say.” You murmured, feeling drained from the week itself. A silence fell over the two of you as you felt your insecurities swallow your mind. “Maybe if I was skinnier… prettier. Like Nancy, smart too.” You mumbled. You gasped when Eddie suddenly moved back. You looked at him and he had moved back to stare at you. What shocked you was the anger on his face.

“Do not. Say that.” He spoke sternly, watching you. “There is nothing wrong with you. Your body, your mind, nothing.”

“But-”

“No!” Eddie frowned, a crease forming between his brows as he showed his unhappiness at your lack of self-confidence. “No buts! Yours is phenomenal, by the way.” He was moving before you could even process what you just heard, your cheeks warming when you realized. He was pulling at your legs. You made a small sound as he pulled you til you were laying on your couch. You adjusted the pillow that had once been behind your back to be behind your head instead, deciding to humor Eddie. You knew him well enough that he would say what he wanted to say whether you wanted to hear it or not. He was never shy to share his opinion, sometimes unprompted. “Look,” Eddie moved on top of you. He straddled your thighs as his hair fell over your face like a curtain. Without thinking about it you moved his hair back from his face. “Hi, pretty girl.” Eddie grinned at you. You pouted at him, using one hand to tug on his earlobe. He whined and winced, “Ow.” he mumbled softly. Eddie’s hands moved from holding himself up above you instead favoring to rest his body against yours. You grunt softly at the new weight but it wasn’t bothering you. 

“Eddie, what are you doing?” You huff and Eddie grins back at you.

“Shh. Hold on. I’m gonna give you the boyfriend experience, okay. Let me show you how pretty you are.” He shushed you, moving his hand up to your face. His middle finger gently ran over your forehead, moving down the bridge of your nose. Your eyebrows were creased in confusion as you took in what he was doing but your breath hitched in your throat as his lips pressed between your eyebrows, smoothing the crease away. His soft touch moved down over the tip of your nose down to your cupid’s bow before moving over your cheekbone. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. You were fumbling as you processed the fact that Eddie Munson was kissing your face. His lips followed his finger as he kissed your cheek bone. More kisses followed over your cheek, jaw and chin. 

“Ed-”

“Shhh,” He softly shushed you again, middle finger moving over your top lip before running over your lower lip. You waited, holding your breath. That breath escaped you when Eddie pressed his lips to yours. You knew what to do, of course, pressing your lips back to Eddie’s but truly you were sure you were a horrible kisser. His hand now cupped your cheek as his lips moved against yours like he was trying to show you what to do. Soon you melted in his embrace, just enjoying kissing him. His lips were slightly chapped but soft and you made a mental note to share your cherry lip balm with him so he didn’t crack his lips. Eddie’s lips left yours though and you whimpered softly as he moved away. A breathy chuckle left him. “You have to breathe, pumpkin. Okay?” He murmured, nose nudging yours gently. Then he was moving again. He tucked his head into your neck, peppering kisses against your skin. He kissed over your collarbones before kissing the tops of your breasts. “No bra when you’re at home? I should come visit more often.” He mumbled against your skin, running his nose over your cloth covered mounds. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, a devilish smile on his lips. 

“Gonna come over more often now cause I don’t wear a bra at home?” You scoffed and Eddie nodded against you. 

“Mhm, and cause I can see your nipples through your tank top.” He chuckled and moved his hands down to your hips. His hands moved back up, pushing your tank top up. You reached for his hands but he stopped just under your breasts. “Not going further. I didn’t ask permission yet.” He murmured and shuffled down your body. His nose nudged gently at your stomach, admiring the pudginess that was there. He began scattering kisses over your soft flesh. Over stretch marks ranging from soft pink, barely there to fresh purple ones. You squirmed a little under him, cheeks warming in embarrassment and self consciousness. “You’re so cute.” He mumbled against your skin, looking up at you. You pouted, feeling tears tug at your lashes again. “No crying, baby.” He murmured, “Not wanting to make you feel bad. Just wanna admire you.” You sniffled, gently wiping at your eyes as you nodded down at him. You were unsure of Eddie’s plan. Why he was doing this and how far he was going to go but you were going to give him his time, enjoying the limited attention he was affording you.

Eddie waited for you to calm down before he continued. He kissed over your hips, hands moving to pull your sweatpants down slightly. He pulled the material down over your legs, setting them aside and you froze again. He bypassed your panties which made you pout a little but you knew Eddie had a plan. His kisses continue over the tops of your thighs before moving to kiss the sides of them. He lifted one of your legs, lips moving down your calf and over your ankle before he kissed the top of your foot. When he was satisfied that he had covered you in enough kisses he grabbed your sweatpants and pulled the material back over your legs and settled himself on top of you again once you were clothed again. Eddie had laid himself so his head rested at your neck. One arm snaked under your body while his other hand moved to gently run his fingers through your hair. 

“You can call me crazy if you want,” Eddie mumbled against your skin. “But what if I gave you the boyfriend experience. Doesn’t have to go anywhere. Just… show you what you’re missing.” 

You blinked, thinking over Eddie’s suggestion. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Eddie. You liked him a lot especially once you saw the soft side of the scary looking metal head. You figured you weren’t his type despite the affection he’d shown you tonight. So what was the harm in taking him up on gaining some experience? You hummed softly and stroked your fingers through his hair. “Yeah… I’d like that.” You murmured quietly, feeling the smile that spread over his lips before he pressed a kiss to your throat. 

Eventually the two of you moved so you could enjoy the slightly cold pizza Eddie had brought you both. The two of you ate most of it, tucking the rest into the fridge. You yawned gently as you packed up the snacks and Eddie’s hands gently grabbed at your arms to stop you. He steered you towards your room, shutting the tv off on the way. Inside your room you crawled into bed and laid on your side, figuring Eddie would help himself to wherever he wanted to sleep. The bed dipped beside you and Eddie shuffled closer to you. “An important part of the boyfriend experience, cuddling.” He murmured as he pressed himself to your back. He tangled his legs with yours, holding onto you. You could feel that he had shed his shirt before climbing into bed with you. His hand rested on your belly and you resisted the urge to move it. You didn’t even like touching your own belly but someone else touching the area made you want to crawl out of your skin. After a few minutes though you relaxed enough, gently falling asleep in his arms.

—----------------------------------------

The next morning you had woken up still in Eddie’s embrace. He was holding onto you tightly, gentle snores falling from his lips. You picked up his arm, attempting to wiggle free from his hold at first until he tightened his arm around you further. You huffed but smiled, picking up his arm again and getting free. You padded out of your room to the kitchen and started to brew some coffee. You grabbed what you needed to make some simple bacon and eggs for you both, humming as you did so. As you added some cheese into the eggs you heard him before you felt him. He had just managed to step on one of the creaky floor boards. Eddie’s arms wrapped around you and his head found home on your shoulder. 

“You left me,” He mumbled against your skin.

“I made breakfast.” You answered, plucking up a piece of bacon and offering it to him.

Eddie lifted his head and bit into the bacon, chewing thoughtfully. “All is forgiven.”

You chuckled and shook your head, finishing the other half of the strip of salty pork before returning to moving the eggs around. Eddie removed himself from you to grab the plates you set aside for you both. He held both as you scooped some eggs onto the plates before placing bacon strips onto them. Eddie took them to the table as you popped toast into the toaster and started to make your cup of coffee. Once all the food was ready you both sat down to eat. You found your eyes wandering to the boy that sat beside you. Eddie’s hair was a frizzy mess from sleeping with it loose last night. His torso and arms were toned and not overly muscular. You figured he lifted a lot of heavy things having heard he worked at a mechanics shop now. Blotches of scars were on his arms and torso from where the demobats had feasted on his flesh but you didn’t find them repulsive. It made Eddie look rugged in a way. Even if his nipple and his chest tattoos had suffered because of it. His rings were absent, most likely sitting on your bedside table now.

“Like what you see?” 

You moved your eyes away from Eddie’s chest to look at his face. He smiled at you. A kind, warm smile like you guys had known one another a long time. His big chocolate orbs watched you carefully but as he shifted the sun caught his eyes, turning them amber. You chuckled at the scrunch of his nose and the squint of his eyes as they were invaded by the sun. You stood up, moving to your window and pulling the sheer curtains together. “I like natural light.” You told him, returning to your seat. 

Eddie hummed, picking up your hand and kissing your knuckles. “Thank you for breakfast.” He murmured with another bright smile.

“You brought me dinner last night. It’s only fair.” You reason with a small shrug. When you finish your meal you put your plate in the sink and refill your mug before retiring to your couch once again under your blanket. Eddie joins you moments later, slipping under your blanket and shifting closer to you, arm around your shoulders. You turned the TV on, finding something to watch as you sip your coffee. You only look away when a gentle tap comes to your chin and you turn your head, Eddie lips pressing to yours. 

“Forgot to properly tell you good morning.” He murmured against your lips.

You feel your face warm, kissing Eddie again. “Good morning,” You murmured.

“Good morning,”

—-------------------------

You and Eddie spent the day together. You watched TV, made lunch and finally talked about what you would both be doing. Eddie offered a no strings attached experience, explaining that he would provide you with the experience of what it was like to have a boyfriend and whatever else you might like at no cost to you besides your time.

“You don’t want anything?” You asked, raising a brow at the boy.

Eddie nodded his head. “Nothing.”

“There has to be something you want to be doing this.”

Eddie hummed and shook his head again. “I’m getting it already.”

“What?”

He smiled at you and reached for your hand. “What I want… is you.” He murmured, “Stupid, I know. Me being an option but I’m happy just… filling the role for you. Til you find what you want.”

That was the thing. You didn’t know what you wanted. You wanted to be loved, yes. Someone who wanted you. Which Eddie claimed he was that person. Someone who wanted you. That was something difficult for you to grasp. Why would someone want somebody as imperfect as you are? You were a burden, an issue. Or simply just the thing in the corner that was easily ignored. You simply nodded at Eddie’s words though and leaned over, pressing your lips to his even if you didn’t believe a word he said.

.

..

...

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[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!

[drakkonyan]

Let me out this vessel

[worthless-misery]

Dear diary...

I wish I could just get rid of this body.

It's just disgusting.

I just want to disappear.