#then I got a crush on a guy and with it came body dysmorphia

[valewritessss]

I feel like I came out of the womb with raging anxiety

[alwaysanundertone]

PB&J | Sirius Black x fem! reader

fluff / comfort

TW: ED MENTIONED! negative self talk, body dysmorphia, mention of skipping meals.

Please, take care of yourself. If you find this content triggering, DO NOT READ THIS. I love you 💜

part 1

This is gonna be a series of stand-alones with the same characters, so stay tuned

You were in front of your mirror, it felt like you’ve been there for hours, looking at every little imperfection: your shoulders were too wide, your arms too bulky, your stomach wasn’t flat, and your waist wasn’t the size of a necklace. The thing you hated the most, though? Your thighs. Every time they touched, you couldn’t help but cringe, reminding you that you weren’t dainty like you wanted to be. You’ve never been the skinny friend, and probably never will.

The worst part was that nobody seemed to notice your sadness, nor the constant change of your eating habits, because you always seemed to be so confidence, to love yourself, but you didn’t: you despised your figure. The fact that none of your friends ever asked you if you were fine was something you had to get used to, no matter how much you hurt, you knew no one would ever be there to talk you out of it, so you had to rely on yourself.

You took a deep breath. You hated this. You hated how sometimes you lost hope, thinking you would never be able to feel good about yourself. As always, after analysing your figure for several minutes, came the anxiety: you started to feel like your skin was itching, begging to be tore apart, and there was nothing you could do about it. It felt like your body was asking you to cut your skin open and remove all of the fat from your body, leaving nothing but bones.

You slowly sat down, your back now pressed again the hard and cold surface, trying desperately not to sob out loud, feeling pathetic. Your breath became laboured, and you knew that the anxiety attack was about to come down.

Suddenly, you heard a knock on the door. “Y/N? Did you forget about our study date?”

You wanted to slap yourself, hard. How could you have forgotten about this? You’ve yearned for some alone time with Sirius Black since you first laid eyes on him, and now you were looking like a rat, your eyes red and puffy, hair dishevelled, wearing a hoodie and leggings.

Great. Just great, who doesn’t want to have spend some quality time with their crush looking awful?

“Y/N? Are you okay?” His voice had a slight edge to it, like he was concerned. You must be daydreaming; Sirius Black couldn’t possibly be concerned about you, no one had ever been.

“Yeah” You cringed at how your voice sounded. “Yeah, I’m just not feeling well, you know?”

You heard him chuckle. “I call bullshit, angel. I saw you in the Great Hall earlier, and, by the way, I saw you didn’t eat at all, so I brought you some snacks” You widened your eyes, he noticed that? “Now that we’ve established that you are not sick, could you let me in? If you don’t, I’ll have to resort to more…  unethical methods”

You ran to the door, opening it. As soon as you saw the long-haired guy, your breath got stuck in your throat: he was leaning against the doorframe, sporting a manbun, some of his curls escaping the hair tie and falling gracefully on his face. His leather jacket was open, showing a Radiohead t-shirt, you felt weak.

His reaction wasn’t the same as yours, quite the opposite: when he acknowledge your red, puffy eyes and the tear streaks of mascara that adorned your cheeks, his joyful expression turned into a worried one.

“Love, what happened? Are you hurt?” The distraction Sirius’s appearance provided ceased to function, now you were back in the black hole that occupied your mind. Still, you couldn’t tell this to Sirius, you weren’t even friends.

“Yes, yes, it’s the pollen, you know”

“Darling, it’s the 20th of December…” His eyes softened a bit.

Damn. “I meant the dust, sorry. Anyways, we should be getting started, come” You sat at your desk, inviting him to sit next to you.

He opened the bag. “Listen, I didn’t know what you’d fancy as a snack, so I brought a bit of everything. There’s some toast, could make you a PB and jelly if you’d like, mine are the best” He winked at you. “But I also have some chips if you want something savoury, oh and I also have some chicken and potatoes if you’re hungry”

“I… I’m not, but thanks for bringing me food, it’s a shame it will go to waste”

He frowned. “You’ve been skipping what, like three meals in a row? You must be hungry, frankly I wanted to step in and hand feed you at lunch, but I figured you would have been embarrassed, so I stopped myself, but now you have to east something”

You frowned. “I swear, I’m not-“As you were about to finish your sentence, your stomach growled violently, Sirius shotting you a pointed look.

“So, sweet or savoury?”

You wanted to scream, but you couldn’t, not wanting to leave a bad impression on your crush. “Sweet.”

He seemed way to happy about it. “Perfect, so I get to make you my specialty, I swear you will be addicted to it”

As you took a bite out of the damned sandwich, you realized that it was good, and not just because he was the one to make it: you had to stop yourself from moaning slightly, having something to eat after such a long fast was definitely a heaven-like experience. Under his close scrutiny, you finished up your snack, then getting started on your work.

[letrashbag]

Alright, I've been looking at all the queer crap, so Imma rant about that today. (I also accidentally reblogged a Nimona post on here instead trashlikesmedia so oops, but you can see where I started.)

Labels suck but I need them so there. I consider myself asexual, I came to this conclusion last summer. I've never been in a relationship, never really had any crushes. I always joked about how I had a crush on this guy in like 3rd grade and he liked my best friend (who I didn't actually like but that's a different story), and I've never loved since, but like it's true. I haven't. I always had this idea that I just hadn't met someone worth crushing on. I would ask people how they got into relationships and they'd always be like "just be yourself, one day the right guy will come along and it'll all work out" which was not helpful at all. My younger sibling is queer and they kind of introduced me to a lot of different identities and ideas, and it just kind of grew from there. It all started with me acknowledging the fact that I didn't want to sleep with women, and I felt the same way about women as I do about men, so I'm bi? pan? ace? It took a while to get comfortable with it, but now I'm here confidently ace.

Then the romantic side of things got tough. I've been on exactly one date (it was terrible, I did not like the guy and he did not put in a lot of effort and it was so uncomfortable), and I've only ever really had one crush on a guy and it was such a weird experience, that I couldn't figure out what was going on. (that was actually last summer and part of me realizing I was ace was being excited to hang out and talk with him but physically recoiling when I even thought about kissing him), so romance was not my thing. I do identify as aromantic, because it's the label that most closely matches my feelings and experiences, but I still feel like it's not right. I don't know if it's because I genuinely am alloromantic, or because I so desperately crave romance.

The big deal of it all is that I grew up in a not great family environment. My parents hate each other, especially my mom to my dad. They have been outwardly antagonistic towards each other for as long as I can remember. (I think the only reason they haven't gotten divorced is because it would be too expensive and my mom doesn't want to lose my dad's paycheck.) That contrasted really sharply with all the romance I would read about and see in movies and stuff. I'm a big reader and I have always loved romance. So I grew up with this reality of a terrible relationship and a fantasy of a perfect romance. I constantly worried that I would either settle for a terrible relationship because I thought that was realistic or end up alone because nothing matched my standards. Now, I don't know if my aromantic feelings are just because I'm scared of relationships and all of that nonsense or if I'm just genuinely not attracted to people. It keeps me up at night. At the end of the day, I just vibe and hope that everything works out.

In regards to gender, boy howdy do I have feelings. Cause like, gender isn't real, it's a social and cultural concept that people cling to because they like order. This is not invalidating trans people, gender and body dysmorphia is a very real thing and associating your identity, experiences, and sense of self with a gender and/or sex is normal, whether it aligns with your gender assigned at birth or not. My sentiment is more about the way society views gender as 1) a binary that aligns perfectly with sex and 2) an inflexible and constant pillar of identity that comes before any other identifiers. This is where I got beef. At the end of the day, your personal experience of gender is just that, personal. It's a part of who you are, but it's also influenced heavily by the way society views gender and gender norms, that's inevitable. My personal feelings are just complicated. I identify as a woman and use she/her pronouns because it's easy, not because I feel particularly aligned with the female gender. I'm not uncomfortable being perceived as a woman, but I also just don't care. Gender just isn't something that I consider important to my identity. I am me, I love these things, I do these things, these are my opinions. Y'know? (It probably doesn't help that my sense of self is also just wack, but whatever.) Something that I am uncomfortable with is being viewed as a woman before being viewed as a person. I have always called myself an actor, not an actress. Cause what's an actor? Someone who acts. What's an actress? A woman who acts. Why should part of my identifier clarify that I am a woman? That just doesn't make any sense to me. This view is rooted in my feminist ideals as well, as I've always been an advocate of getting rid of gendered job titles, seeing as the masculine form is almost always the default. However, I can't help but correlate the feelings. I just want to be a person, not a woman. Most of my hesitation in reaching out to and looking into the genderqueer community is just imposter syndrome probably. I don't care about being a woman, I don't feel gender dysphoria, people on the street probably aren't going to hate crime me for not aligning myself with a binary gender, so why should I try to claim any of this. Maybe it's just me making up excuses and pretending to be queer so I can feel cool or special. Maybe all the queerphobes are right and I am pretending to aroace and nonbinary so I can fit in with all the cool kids without actually having to date a woman and transition. I know that's a messed up view. Everyone's experience with gender and sexuality is extremely unique and no one will fit into a single box. I'm allowed to have these feelings without hating myself. It's just hard and scary. But c'est la vie.

On a lighter note, I love the asexual pride flag, it's so pretty, and I love the aromantic pride flag, it is also very pretty. But the aroace flag isn't that great. The colors just don't itch my brain the way the asexual and aromantic flags do individually y'know?

Long post, but I got's lots of feelings. I'm sure I'll make a bunch of posts about queerness, it do be a thing, but this was a good way to get my base feelings just out there.

[moonglittering]

😍 [[ Let's hear it x3 ]]

✨ @countlessrealities. meme. still accepting!

❝When I was finishing my art history degree—which was a big waste of time, all things considered—I had this little, like, flirtationship-situationship-half-and-half with this older guy that worked at a museum. Let's call him O He was an education coordinator, used to be a professor. Anyway, this guy was fine as fuck. And, he had this deep, pretty, velvet-y voice and I was crazy about this man. Like, he was a really quiet spoken, stoic, wise dude. But, he had smartass tendencies. I appreciate that in potential romantic partners, I can't date someone that isn't witty. We went a lot of time together and it was great. Howevsies...❞

Not like he had any easy-to-read expression before, but Virote seemed a bit uncomfortable now. The story was hitting its unhappy conclusion, obviously. ❝This other guy came into the picture and he was blond and blue-eyed and looked like a Ken doll. O forgot about me real quick. O got very, very distant. And, like, me being who I am, was very willing to ask why. So, I did. He told me to my face that I wasn't as pretty as the Ken doll guy and I didn't act as cutely. Whatever the fuck that means. Anyway. So, like, I just eased out of it. I'm not fighting over dick, fuck outta here. Still... It did stick with me. I understand not being someone's type, but he legit just straight up implied I was ugly. Getting called ugly by your crush is some rough shit, isn't it? So, I call myself beautiful every day even when I know I have a hard time believing it. Like, I do have severe body dysmorphia. But, I have to call myself pretty. No one else will.❞

[pearl-blue-musings]

Not Alone Shinsou x fem!reader x Kaminari

Hi

This is incredibly self indulgent and absolutely terrible in terms of my writing because i was really going through it (still am but we’re not gonna talk about it)

However I must say, as someone who has anxiety, depression, and body image issues you’re not alone. I know I’m awful at talking about my own feelings, but please feel free to open up to a friend, me, or anyone you trust. This stuff is disheartening to go through alone and I’m with you.

Pairing: Prohero!Shinsou Hitoshi x fem!reader x Prohero!Kaminari Denki

Warnings: anxiety, depression, body dysmorphia, body image issues, feeling overwhelmed, shitty writing

As always minors dni

It was later than you had expected when you returned to your apartment. You quietly shut the door behind you as you remove your shoes, as to not wake up or disturb your roommates. It’s not every day you get to share an apartment with two well known heroes. You were aware of their crazy and sometimes unpredictable schedules, but shockingly they both had today off. And since you’re their respectful roommate, you wanted them to rest as much as they could.

You could have sworn the two of them were dating with how close they acted, but that didn’t prevent you from crushing on the both of them. You did your best to hide your feelings from them to the point you were just hurting yourself so they could be happy and blissfully unaware. It was better that way, you were just their civilian roommate who made their own apartment less expensive. That’s all you were.

So it didn’t matter that you came back from your high school reunion in tears and full of shame.

Shinsou knew you were going to be coming back late but wasn’t aware how late. He did offer to join you, knowing how those kind of events can be to keep you company. Not just because he’s your roommate, but somehow he had grown to care for you; and he picked up on his first roommate catching feels for you too.

They were a strange pair, Shinsou had to admit. He didn’t think he’d be rooming with the eclectic blond but here he his. Personally, Shinsou thinks his higher ranked friend fell for you first; love at first sight most likely. Denki will deny it to the purple eyed man whenever you’re not around, but Shinsou knows better. They’ve been friends for years, roommates for over a year so he’s fairly sure he knows Denki well enough. However, one thing was abundantly clear to the pair of friends, things haven’t been the same between them since you moved in.

Maybe it was petty jealousy between the two men when it came to you, but they would always try their best around you. So when you had told them you were going to a high school reunion of sorts the both of them offered to accompany you. You had turned them down, opting to go alone considering you knew it was their day off. You couldn’t do that to them. Your rejection had hurt them in a way they didn’t think was possible. Once you were gone they had a brief conversation about it.

“Shinsou we’ve been friends a long time and I just wanna say-“

“I have feelings for her too.”

Denki blinks at him, words and breath stolen from him. “Well, yeah I could tell! So why don’t you just go for it,” the blond adds on as his voice tapers off.

Shinsou rolls his eyes. “Idiot, I know you like her too. That’s why I haven’t done anything.”

A hearty laugh leaves the blonds lips as he shakes his head. “Look at the two of us, falling for the same girl. Who would have guessed?”

The look in his bright gold eyes stirs something in Shinsou that he’s acknowledging for the first time. Is this the way you see Denki? He would never admit it, but there’s something about the dynamic between the three of you that just works. You’re not only a great roommate, but an incredible friend. You always listen to their hero woes and they lend an ear to issues with your profession. Groceries, chores, everything was always evenly divided; everyone helped everyone. It all just fit.

“I guess we both just have good taste.”

The two of them spent the day lazing around, playing video games, and put on a movie until you got back. Both males were eager to talk to you upon your return and did their best to stay up for you. Unfortunately, both men fell asleep in Shinsou’s room watching a movie, the blond resting on the other’s shoulder.

Denki woke up to the sound of shuffling around the apartment. He noticed Shinsou was still sleeping and the look of peace on his face made Denki’s heart race. He slowly removes himself from the sleep deprived man and decides to go greet you.

He slowly walks out of the room and heads toward the living room where he thinks you are, but all he sees are your purse and coat dropped on the couch haphazardly. That’s very unlike you. If you went to your room he would have heard you, where could you be?

That’s when he hears it.

You were confident your two heroic and very attractive roommates were asleep when you rushed into the bathroom sobbing. The words and looks your former friends wouldn’t stop swimming and swirling around in your mind. You did your best to shut out their slander and lies but it was no use.

You were too ugly.

Your body had changed for the worst.

No one will love you.

You were lucky to have been with someone in high school.

It all wouldn’t stop. You knew were taking a risk wearing your confident and favorite outfit, but that was torn to shreds from their sharp tongues. Your eyes meet yours in the mirror as your body morphs right in front of your eyes. Gone was the confident woman from five hours ago. All that’s left is a broken lonely nobody who even her roommates wouldn’t want to look at.

Sobs racked your body as you grip the sink for leverage. Tears fall freely, messing up your make up –what’s the point really?- as your body shakes with your cries. You want to punch the mirror in front of you, rip off the clothes and burn them, pick and scratch at yourself until you become the desirable person you want to be. You want it all to stop, why can’t you look better? Why do you look the way you do ?Why aren’t you prettier? Why, why, why why –

“(Y/n)! Hey, hey it’s me!”

Your eyes shoot open as you look in the mirror and see your blond roommate staring at you. You feel your heart drop at the sight of him and his shocked expression. He reaches out but you brush him off. “Don’t touch me,” your voice betraying you as it cracks. You try to push past him, but he’s unmovable.

“Sunshine, what happened? I’ve never seen you like this, talk to me! Don’t make me wake up Shinsou.”

Your lip trembles at his empty but truthful threat. Your flight or fight kicks in as your mind racks up new thoughts.

He’s just saying that.

He doesn’t actually care.

Neither of them do.

You’re just their ugly roommate.

You do a slight combination of both. You attempt to escape the bathroom while pushing through Denki. He grabs onto your arms lightly to hold you in place, causing the two of you to bump into the door frame.

You shake out, “let me go.”

He only holds on tighter. “Not an option! I’m not letting you go until you stop crying.”

“Denki,” you almost wail, fresh tears falling, “let me pass! Please!”

The way you said please struck something in the blond, and he hesitantly lets you go. Only for you to ram into Shinsou’s chest.

You look up into his lavender eyes and close yours tight. “No please not you too.”

Shinsou glances between you and Denki, trying to get a read on the situation. “What exactly is going on?” Looking at Denki he squints his eyes. “What did you do?”

“Me?! I found her like this! Why would I make her cry?”

“Because you’re impulsive,” Shinsou deadpans. He ignores the blonds scoff and turns his focus to you. With your arms crossed, your nails are digging into your skin. He calmly places a hand on your shoulder and leaves it there despite your tiny flinch. He guides the two of you to sit against the wall adjacent to the bathroom door. “What happened, kitty cat? I need you to uncross your arms and breathe, okay?”

You reluctantly agree and unfold your arms. This gives both guys a better look at you and your frazzled state. Denki sits to your right, taking your hand in his and he begins to rub calming circles on the back of your hand. You want to pull back but it feels too comforting. Shinsou stays in front of you, making sure that you’re breathing slower. Your voice cracks as you begin to speak.

“I shouldn’t have gone to the reunion. I, I had those thoughts again but they were so much worse and I just,” you couldn’t finish your sentence as you began to cry again, tired and defeated. You feel Denki squeeze your hand and pull your head to lay on his shoulder while Shinsou rubs your knees affectionately. The soft and caring touches calms you down to regulate your breathing. This isn’t the first time your anxiety and body dysmorphia decided to work in tandem but it’s the first time it’s gotten to this low. And whenever it would get to the point of you shaking, either one of them would be nearby to help you. Having them both here was something you didn’t realize you had been needing. It was nice, it was ideal.

The blond next to you nudges your side and makes you look at him directly. “I know you struggle with your image. But you should know, I think you’re one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever met. Shinsou thinks so too!”

You spare a glance at your other roommate who’s holding his neck now, visibly embarrassed. His deep purple eyes meet yours and you already know that Denki is telling the truth. A truth you didn’t think would be possible and struggle to believe, but a truth nonetheless. You crack a smile at your roommates and your heart warms, if only for a moment. This doesn’t solve everything, but it does help in the present.

Shinsou returns to caressing your legs carefully before starting to get up. “C’mon kitten, take my hand. I think it’s time we go to bed.”

“Uh, we?”

You feel Denki nod as he pulls you to stand up. “Yes we,” he says soothingly, “you should know Shinsou here is a great cuddler.”

That makes your heart sink as you take their hands. The blond is quick to see your demeanor change and switches holding your hand to holding your cheek. “What did you just think? And I know it wasn’t anything good.”

You can’t help but lean into his touch, but the anxiety at what you’re about to say begins to overwhelm you. So you were torn at opening up right now, but brave it anyways; gotta start somewhere. “The, the two of you. I don’t wanna interrupt anything you have going on. I’d be a bother – “

Your words are silenced as you feel a warm pair lips on yours. When your eyes open you are met with sharp golden ones staring into your very being. “(Y/n) listen to me. Well first, we’re not dating, I mean not yet anyways.” He pauses to grin at the two of you and you catch Shinsou roll his eyes. “But we both want to be with you. We both care about you and want to always be there for you on your down days. Being strong every day is hard and we’ve seen it! Just, we want you to see you the way we see you!”

His excitable aura is infectious as a genuine smile adorns your face. You meet his gaze and his face is beaming. The electric blond goes to hold your hand again but his hand is pushed away by his friend. “What gives? I just wanna hold her hand, you can’t have both!”

Shinsou rumbles out, “you’ve already kissed her. I at least want a turn.” He cups your face and presses a chaste kiss on your lips. He pulls away almost hesitantly before he continues. “And a chance to say that we discussed some stuff after Denki was jealous you wanted to go on your own.”

“You were jealous and upset too!”

“Minor details,” Shinsou scoffs out, “but we both have strong and genuine feelings for you. And strangely enough it turns out the feelings between all three of us are mutual.”

You place a hand over your heart at the proclamation. The both of them? All three of you? It was peculiar, yes but maybe this is just what you needed.

You swallow the lump in your throat as you take a hand from the both of them in yours. “This is a lot to process,” you admit, “but could we talk about it in the morning? I just want to go to sleep.”

“Of course, Kitten.”

“Absolutely, beautiful!”

Both men had responded to you at the same time, making you laugh heartedly. You miss the smiles that come to their faces at your laugh as you walk slowly down the hallway. You had a feeling you were headed toward Shinsou’s room considering he had the bigger bed than you and the blond. You squeeze their hands tightly as you eagerly await the cuddle session and sleep you’ll get with these two. You’re certain that it’ll be some of the best sleep of your life.

The three of you had much to discuss in the morning, but for right now you’re content being in the middle of your cuddle pile as they wipe away any stray tears that fall from your eyes. You know the two heroes aren’t going to solve your problems, but they became a lot easier to handle whenever they would act up in the future.

~~~~~~~~~~

[closer-stars]

ATEEZ Reaction: You’re their crush/ s/o and you’re trans

I would like to say first that I had to read and watch about being trans and the trans community. I tried my best to make sure my language for this is inclusive. I’m still learning, so if there’s something here that I worded weirdly, please do message me! The rest of the members are under the cut!

Requested? Yes! 

Content warning: mentions of body dysmorphia

Seonghwa

Gives me the impression that he wouldn’t really be /that/ surprised. He will be thankful that you came clean to him, Shows that you trust him yfeel?  

There’s something about Seonghwa that gives me the impression that while physical attraction is a factor, he also cares more about your view and thoughts about life in general. 

He’d ask a few questions I think, just to be able to understand your pov on things as well. In turn, will do his own research. 

Also considering his taste in fashion is really Nice, he’d definitely help you out on finding clothes that help your confidence.

His physical affection multiplies tenfold when you’re having your down days but he will adjust depending on your needs. 

He will still be very protective of you. (maybe even more)

Hongjoong

seems to be the type who would help support you financially when it comes to your needs, be it binders, hormones, etc. 

Would also read up about being trans, the trans community etc to understand 

Would be the type to shower you with words of affirmation also

Got stuff you're thinking of letting go off? No worries. Hongjoong will reform some of those to make new memories.

would also show solidarity through his reforms 

Alternatively, he might even teach you a thing or two so that you can control how your clothes look on you ykno

Yunho

He's got a good heart so even if he found out down the line it won't really affect him. 

He'd feel a little touched if you do tell him because that means there's a lot of trust between you two.

If you got your down days, he'd lend you his oversized clothes + try to distract you/help you however you see fit.

If you take hormones, he’d probably remind you of them by putting them in places where you can see. (would also probably buy them for you.) 

If you don’t know how to do things because you didn’t have anyone to ask during your transition, he’d definitely help you out on it.

Bouncing off on that point, he might join some support group in order to be able to help you as an ally/friend/lover. 

Yeosang

He’s definitely someone who can take this in stride. Curious but also very respectful.

He’d observe first how to approach you about the topic, if he doesn’t know where to start, he’d most likely ask you to talk about what you’re comfortable talking about first. 

Would definitely try to research also in his spare time in order to be someone who you can trust and find safety in

The type to remind you to take your hormones (if you do take!) even through text. 

He’s going to treat you according to how you identify yourself, BUT regardless of how you identify, he will include you in his activities in order for you to feel accepted/welcomed in his circle of friends too. Definitely would teach you how to skateboard, how to control a drone, etc. 

He’d probably buy you things also especially if it falls in the category of helping you feel more like yourself. 

San

If you’re facing doubts about yourself, he’s there to help you through it. San seems like the type to be the most in tune with emotions, also he wears his heart on his sleeve.

Say he didn’t find out directly from you that you are trans, he’d wait until you tell him yourself, so until then he’d do his best to use gender neutral pronouns and your name. 

Moving forward, he’ll keep his mind open to you and your needs. 

He’s careful with his words too, and would ask you to help him phrase his thoughts and questions in a way that doesn’t sound offensive. he might reflect a lot on how he speaks and thinks. 

If anyone disrespects you, they gotta run. He and Hwa are the scariest when angry after all.

He’d be very supportive of your choices especially in empowering who you are. 

Mingi

Okay like, depending on your fashion preferences, this guy will keep that in mind and make sure to help you with clothes (if you ask), in order for you to feel your best. 

This dude’s pretty smart so i have a feeling that when you explain some stuff to him he’d just go “That makes sense yeah.” 

But there will be times he slips up and asks something that’s whiplash inducing/no-brainer, pls be patient with him he’s trying his Best

This doesn’t change his attitude towards you. 

I think he’d have a lot more respect for you because you’re doing everything you can to live life authentically. 

There will be times where he wishes he can carry your pain rather than see you suffer alone. In those times, he’d stay with you and walk with you through it

Wooyoung

Considering this guy has taken an interest in video-editing/vlogging, this idea popped up: once you guys hit your anniversary, he’s def the type to make a video compilation of his favorite moments of you from his eyes.

I think he’d be a little surprised with the information but it probably wouldn’t faze him too much. He’s already attracted to you, that’s not changing anything. (His mindset of once he wants something, he goes for it)

If someone disrespects you, Wooyoung will probably be like "can you say it again properly this time?" 

He’s someone who acts accordingly to the environment he’s in. once he finds out you’re trans, his reaction will depend as to how the news was given to him. For the most part, he’s probably very calm about it? A little curious also since it’s not really an everyday thing that he’s told information like this y’kno?  

This isn’t going to make him shy away from wanting physical affection, if anything he’s going to be more receptive to your needs and would let you call the shots more often. He’s still learning on how to make you feel safe with him. 

very pro-active also regarding your needs. will most likely run out the room to buy you what you need especially if it’s immediately needed.

Jongho

He’s not that fazed. If he is, he’s not the type to show it. 

Though on the topic of showing the appropriate support/reactions to things will come up pretty often since he’s also new to this. 

On that topic, he will probably ask a lot of questions and have a lot of conversations with you in order to understand you better. 

Another one of the rich bois: he’s probably going to help you with your necessities too. Especially if they’re costly. 

Also his support would be very quiet? Like he’s not as verbal or physical as his members but he’ll do his best in ways he can to let you know he still sees you as you, that you’re still the one he loves. Nothing has changed.

Will definitely Fight whoever tries to disrespect you.

[kbstories]

Axiomatic

ax·i·om·at·ic (adj.) Self-evident; unquestionable.

The best part of battle is the afterparty.

(Or: Kidd wears a fur coat, Killer is thirsty. Zoro is there until he isn’t.)

Tags: Established Relationship, Drinking, Fluff and Smut, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, It’s a PWP what can I say?

Read Chapter 1 here. Post-Wano setting. Content warning for mentions of Body Dysmorphia (relating to Killer).

***

Killer is drunk.

Technically he’s tipsy and on-his-way-to-drunk. There’s a bottle of sake in his hand, half-full or half-empty depending where his head is in a given moment. The straw between his lips is growing brittle, already frayed at the edge – he’s been toying with it rather than drinking for a while now, distracted by the feast running its course below.

With his ass firmly planted on the stone weight of one of the roofs – the inn’s, perhaps? Killer can’t recall why he got up here, much less which house it is – he’s got a view over all of Okobore Town, from where the outskirts are swallowed by the Wasteland to the pitiful square still lit by the bonfire’s embers. Whoever’s in charge of feeding the flames has obviously left their post or followed the siren song of free booze. They wouldn’t be the first to do so, the streets littered with those passed out or making out or both, somehow.

It reminds Killer a little of home. Well, the place they used to call home, him and Kidd, a town so small it isn’t really worth considering it one. Nothing more than the scrapyard of the bustling capital right next door with the people to match: Too poor to live, too stubborn to die and so they got carried along, forgotten by history.

Same bullshit, different island, Killer muses via the wisdom of too much sake in his blood. Different ocean altogether, and there’s no fondness in that.

Home isn’t a place for Killer but a feeling, the one he gets with full sails fluttering above and Kidd up front, hair wild in the wind.

Freedom’s a fickle thing, as quickly lost as it is gained with how complacent the masses tend to get. At sea it’s just them and their ship against the elements, life and death a matter of seeing the storm coming and having the guts to spit in its face.

Alone on that roof, Killer grins around the straw. That’s the shit worth living for, day after day after day.

Down there is Kidd, the red flash of his hair one Killer seeks out by sheer habit; his silhouette against the dying bonfire is imposing, that ridiculous coat hanging big and imperial off his shoulders. If he focuses, Killer could probably make out what he’s yelling about with… Strawhat’s navigator? Killer squints, infusing his sight with Haki where the dark and the holes in his mask fail him.

Yeah, that’s Nami. She says something, hands on expensive fur. She’s grinning, innocent and cunning all at once and that’s why they call her a cat, huh?

Killer considers cranking up the audio sensitivity on his helmet. Considers it, and tosses the thought right out the metaphorical window. Kidd’s a big boy, he can defend his precious coat from a thief. Nami, presumably, also knows what she’s getting into, poking the bear like that.

A long sip of sake later and Killer nods to himself. A good, rational choice.

His bottle is decidedly past half-empty when Roronoa Zoro finds him. Killer is not surprised, has felt him wandering around for a while now – there are two bottles of sake in his hands, his gait utterly steady despite the rosy tinge to his cheeks.

A heavy drinker, Killer’s heard that. He polishes off his drink to gesture to one of Zoro’s.

 “You’ve got good timing, Pirate Hunter.”

“Who says it’s for you?”, Zoro asks with a snort, and gives him the second bottle anyways. When he sits, he does so with the kind of controlled grace many of Wano’s people wield, that flawless rigidity speaking of a life of discipline.

The way he drinks is the exact opposite of that. Interesting.

Killer concentrates on getting the straw through the narrow neck of the pitcher for a moment. The first sip proves it’s decent stuff; Killer’s mouth shapes itself around a pleased hum.

“You ever think about why the Marines call us what they do?”

It certainly makes Killer pause. Zoro doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to dabble in meaningless small talk – then again, what does Killer know? He turns his head to be able to see the look on Zoro’s face, watches the man nurse his sake with a pensive expression.

“‘Pirate Hunter’… Been a pirate longer than I was hunting ‘em. They could get the hint, y’know.”

They’re doing this, then. Pretending they weren’t at each other’s throats a mere week or two ago, like Zoro didn’t witness the side of Killer he loathes enough to hide it, always.

Fine. Killer can roll with that. “Which would you prefer? ‘Demon of the East Blue’?”

Zoro laughs and it’s so easy for him. “Now that’s one I haven’t heard in a while. You’ve been snooping, huh?”

“Sure as fuck not going into an alliance blind”, says Killer and it’s a bit pointed, a bit of a warning. They came back from war mere days ago but there’s room for blood when it comes to protecting their own.

“Mh. Wonder what that’s like.”

… Right. The guy’s the right hand of Strawhat Luffy, after all.

They drink, and Killer watches his captain. “The Marines don’t know shit, anyways.” A low hum to his side, prompting. Agreeing, perhaps. “Incompetent bastards thought I was the one to look out for when we made ourselves known, back in South Blue.”

“So ‘Massacre Soldier’ was, what, a misunderstanding?”

That makes Killer chuckle, a low ff ff ff sound. “Nah. Just that Kidd’s worse.”

“Ah.”

And it seems whatever else Zoro wants to add to that will have to wait. Even from afar Killer can feel it when Kidd’s eyes land on him and he sighs. “Speak of the devil. You might wanna get out of here.”

The sake stops on its way to Zoro’s mouth. “Huh?”

“Just giving you a fair warning, ’s all. Kidd kinda hates your guts over the whole”, a vague gesture to his own chest, “thing. He likes to keep grudges.”

“… Huh?”

Killer shrugs. It’s too late anyways. “Here he comes.”

“Hey! You!”

It doesn’t matter if he’s tipsy or drunk or whatever: Wrangling Kidd is something Killer grew up doing, and he stares him down now as Kidd pulls himself towards them by the metal in Killer’s mask. Hands up, no hesitation – Killer catches Kidd by the scruff of his coat, an arm winding around Kidd’s waist with enough strength to crush a smaller man and barely enough to drag this particular fool away.

To his credit, Zoro stays exactly where he is, his face blooming into something strangely close to delight. “Hah! You weren’t kidding.”

“Never am”, Killer tells him. He’s wheezing a little with how hard Kidd is struggling against his grip. “Captain! Fucking hell, you promised.”

“Didn’t promise shit”, Kidd hisses, a distinct slur to his words that Killer recognizes without trouble. Wasted indeed. “Roronoa! Hands off my partner!”

Zoro laughs – not the best of moves, Killer thinks with a wince – until his swords start vibrating. The smile drops real fast, then, becoming more of a tense smirk as he grabs on to that white katana of his.

“Oi, Spikey. Play nice now.”

All Kidd does is redouble his efforts, a whirlwind of bulging muscle in Killer’s arms and oh, Killer has had it. He presses his face against Kidd’s neck, his mouth only an inch or two away from his ear where they’re separated by Killer’s mask.

“Eustass fucking Kidd”, he growls. “Stop it or I will end you.”

Wasted or not, a shudder goes through his partner at that. It always does when Killer says his name like that. Killer knows, whatever happens now:

They both have a long night ahead of them.

*

Frantic hands, gasps of breath, lipstick smeared beyond hope between one kiss and the next. A moan, quiet against the sounds of belts being undone.

Killer pushes Kidd, gaze on him and only him as he bounces a little on the bed – their bed – and stares up at Killer. Eyes red as dusk, shining with the feral grin on his lips.

Killer gets on his knees for Kidd, always for him, and even if his blood wasn’t a-buzz with residue anger and alcohol, the way Kidd says “Fuck, Killer, yes” would get him there for sure. Trembling with it, Killer’s fingers hook into the waistband of Kidd’s pants to pull him closer, just where he wants him.

Kidd’s boots land on solid ground with a wooden thud. Legs splayed and Killer in the middle.

“You always have to make a mess”, Killer tells him, holds him down with one hand and the other working on his fly, “always so reckless”, and fuck, Kidd’s hard already. Hot and velvet-smooth in Killer’s palm and Killer forgets about chewing him out, for a moment.

It’s been weeks. Weeks since they’ve had time for this, hell, since Killer could even think about needing Kidd beyond the comfort his mere presence brings. With that infernal smile on his lips and his lungs clenching around the need to laugh, nothing would’ve come of it anyways.

Killer leans over and breathes Kidd in, gives him a gentle kiss, over the delicate vein that throbs under his lips. “We’re not done”, he lets him know, voice having lost most of its edge; Kidd laughs, runs a hand through the messy bangs falling into Killer’s eyes.

“I sure hope not. C’mon, don’t–”

Whatever Killer isn’t supposed to do gets lost in a moan. Kidd is big in Killer’s mouth, big and so familiar and Killer feels Kidd’s fingers tighten where they make a desperate grab for his hair. It makes him groan around the cock sliding over his tongue, again as he swallows around him and Kidd’s thighs jolt under the weight pinning them down.

Kidd is loud, it’s who he is, but there’s something about the cut-off calls of Killer’s name that gets to him. That makes him throw any sense of taking things slow to the wind and suck cock like he means it, lids fluttering shut and painted lips wide as he takes his captain as far down as he can get him without choking.

It’s been a while and it feels so good.

“Just like that, K. Keep goin’ just like that, don’t stop, fuck–”

And Killer feels his muscles shift under his hand, fingers splayed across Kidd’s abs straining with the need to move. Later, he might let him – can feel his own cock ache in too-tight jeans with the thought of Kidd holding him down and using him until he’s sated.

For now, he wants to get Kidd off, to hear his voice crack as it only does when he’s trembling on that edge.

It doesn’t take long at all, Killer’s lips and tongue and mouth dragging him there with no mercy for how breathless Kidd gets. “Kil”, Kidd gasps a warning; Killer hums, pulls off to catch the tip between his lips and jack him off the rest of the way, his hand easily gliding over spit-slick skin–

Kidd comes just like that, spilling into Killer’s mouth in twitching spurts. Given the garbage Kidd calls a diet he doesn’t taste the best but it’s Kidd, it’s the man Killer has hardwired his brain to adore no matter what. Killer moans softly, reaches down to rub himself as Kidd’s fingers release their death grip and sort of… pet him instead.

“Fuck me, darling, next time I’m horny I’ll just piss you off on purpose.”

Wiping his mouth, Killer huffs, “You already do that”, follows the trail of red leading up to Kidd’s navel with his lips. “You’re insufferable.” Licks along the valleys of his ripped stomach to kiss away the sweat gathering in the scar bisecting his pecs. “And we’re not done.”

Kidd rumbles a groan, pulls Killer into an open-mouthed kiss. The cold touch of metal worms its way under Killer’s shirt, in stark contrast to the need in Killer’s veins. It makes him shiver. “Kidd”, whispers Killer into that filthy kiss and it sounds like please, like more.

“Mh, I got you. Take this off, baby, let me see you.”

A demanding tug to Killer’s jeans. Killer doesn’t think twice about it: It’s a relief to get rid of them, the fabric starting to cling to his legs with how hot he’s running, and Killer throws off his boots and shirt to places unknown while he’s at it. Rolls his shoulders where they’re still a bit stiff from carrying his scythes all day.

Kidd is watching him, a hand on his own cock even if it won’t get hard quite yet. Leaning back in a sea of fur with the effortless grace of a king and the look of arrogant expectation to match. Killer meets it as he ties his hair into a loose knot to get it somewhat out of the way, nodding at him.

“You too. Or do you want me to tear ‘em off of you?”

How dark Kidd’s eyes can get. Those are his favorite pants though – Killer decides to be nice about it, unties Kidd’s boots enough for him to kick them off and save the rest of his clothes from an untimely demise.

Well, most of them. When Kidd makes to shrug off the coat Killer stops him. “Keep it.” His hands are on those suede-clad shoulders he’s been salivating over for hours now. “Keep the fur, Kidd”, an order he has no right to give, fingers clawed as they burrow between that softness and a heat that’s all Kidd.

It gets a look of genuine surprise out of Kidd. That, along with a pleased smile, closed-lipped. “Like it that much, do ya?”

Killer hums, “It’s soft”, kisses him, hides his own smile against demanding lips and the warning bite of teeth. “Makes me want to fuck you on it. Got a problem with that?”

“Shit, you kidding? Let’s ruin it.”

As much as he’s an impudent little shit anywhere else, here, coming alive under Killer, Kidd is all eager compliance and greedy hands across Killer’s back; it shouldn’t be as addicting as it is, the notion that this – the needy panting in his ear, the flush high in Kidd’s cheeks and spilling down to his chest – is all Killer’s. Only his, nobody else’s.

Killer slows down, then. Once Kidd has scrambled for the slick they keep around and Killer’s got his hands warmed up, he takes his time. Pushes one of Kidd’s legs to the side, keeps him there while he stretches Kidd finger by finger and fuck, he’s tight, clenching impatiently where Killer pushes in knuckle-deep.

“You’re killing me”, Kidd says, whines really, easily worked up by the twist of Killer’s fingers in him. Kidd’s prosthetic clings to Killer’s shoulder, his other hand in his own hair and tugging. “I’m ready, just – get in there!”

Killer is willing to rush a lot. Not this, though, never this.

“Shut up and relax”, he grumbles but he kisses Kidd, too, along the jagged edges of the scar down his face and his neck to suck on his clavicle. Kidd moans shamelessly, hips bucking into Killer’s curling fingers as he adds another.

Seeking that burning stretch before Killer can stop him. Killer curses, pulls out.

“Don’t complain later. You wanted this.”

Kidd tosses his head back into the covers and laughs. “Yesss. Fuck me, c’mon.”

Smug asshole. More slick, dripping from Killer’s cock to the fur below. The glide of his hand as he spreads it is already a lot, the sight of Kidd’s muscular neck bared and vulnerable hitting Killer somewhere instinctive, primal.

Deep down, Killer doesn’t want to wait either. He props himself up on one elbow, a mere inch or two separating their faces – and he stares at Kidd when he guides himself inside. At the way his mouth goes a little slack with it, the flare of his nose at the threadbare breath that follows.

“Good”, Killer tells him, catches Kidd’s gaze that’s barely past half-lidded. Licks over his bottom lip and kisses him, chaste as to not distract him from that first, long thrust.

“Doing so well, Kidd, almost there.”

Kidd feels sinful around him, warm and fluttering with tension that melts under the gentle thrusts Killer opens him up with. Leaning up to nip at Killer’s beard, his chin, and Killer indulges him, pushes his tongue into his mouth, slowly, languidly. Swallowing the soft noises Kidd makes as Killer hoists him up higher in his lap, Killer’s knees sliding apart in sleek fur.

He fucks him just like that, arms steady around Kidd and locking him in place when Killer finds a pace he can keep up for a while. Kidd fights it at first, he always does, not the kind of man to lie there and take it – Killer nuzzles his jaw, “It’s okay, let go, let go”, words that he knows Kidd needs to hear, cocky as he may act. Kidd’s breath shudders out of him and he does, finally relenting against the angle that makes him come undone each and every time.

Letting Killer sink in to the hilt and he groans, bites at Kidd’s throat and the pulse thundering there. “Good, so good for me.”

He rocks them both, hard enough to make Kidd shift against the fur. Kidd’s legs tighten where they’re tangled with Killer’s and he whimpers, far enough out of his head not to care what he sounds like anymore. A sound that burns in Killer’s gut, his chest, mouth open and panting over Kidd’s skin as he does it again and again and again.

It’s Kidd’s fingers going for the bundle of Killer’s hair and holding on; the feeling of Kidd’s prosthetic drawing red, stinging lines down the length of Killer’s back. “Kidd”, Killer mutters, demands, “Kidd–”

Kidd pulls at blonde strands coming loose, hard. “Whatever you want, K. Whatever you want, please–”

Voice gone, hoarse with the things Killer is doing to him.

Something in Killer snaps. The coat is torn open: Killer hears some of the seams pop in some places and he doesn’t care, mind and soul focused on turning Kidd around and getting him on his hands and knees.

“Fuck”, Kidd half-gasps, half-moans, “fuck–”

Then Killer is inside him again, sweating skin slapping against sweating skin, and his lips trace the shivers racing up Kidd’s spine, the faint freckles dotting Kidd’s shoulders. Kidd, Kidd, Kidd, his senses sharp as knives and hands roaming over what’s his, all his.

Whatever sounds Kidd is making, they are beyond words as he drops to his elbows and bends his back, pushing back into every hard shove of Killer’s hips. Killer moans, loud and breathless – feels Kidd clench around him and he gets a hand on Kidd’s cock, hard and leaking all over the coat, that fucking coat.

For the second time Kidd’s voice trembles, breaks apart on a high ah! as Killer squeezes him tight, so tight. Kidd comes around a choked noise and Killer keeps fucking him, his own peak tantalizingly in reach, not quite–

Kidd goes utterly boneless but there’s determination in the sliver of his eyes, the rasp of “keep goin’, want to feel ya”, and Killer grabs onto his hair just to tilt his head to the side and kiss him.

Over and over Killer takes him, covering Kidd with his bulk and it melts his brain, how Kidd just lets him. How Killer doesn’t have to hold back with him, going as deep as he possibly can and barely coming up for air until he loses himself in it, in Kidd.

Shaking apart above him, head bowed against the nape of Kidd’s neck. Killer rolls the last few thrusts just to feel how slick Kidd is, how well he takes him like this.

After that: A head full of static, numb limbs, cooling sweat.

“Hey, Kil.”

It’s Kidd’s voice that guides him back, “You there?”, the gentle motions of Kidd’s hand brushing the tie out of Killer’s hair and letting it fall around them. Killer pushes into that touch, humming. So comfortable.

“Babe, I kinda need to breathe here.”

Killer laughs and it’s fine like that, low and muffled against Kidd’s neck. “That so?”, he mumbles but he gets the hint, pushing himself to the side with a tired groan.

“Mmh. My head’s all fuzzy.”

“Yeah?” A hand slaps down on Killer’s chest, rough knuckles rubbing over the half-healed wound there. “From drinking or from fucking me to oblivion?”

Ff ff ff, Killer makes. He feels so light.

“Both, probably.”

Yeah, Killer is allowed a little smugness, too: Kidd’s hair is all mussed, lips red from kissing, neck covered in fresh, rose-colored bruises. Well used and looking like he doesn’t plan on moving even if the Punk’s cannons started firing around them.

Definitely worth slaying the coat over, Killer decides.

Still, when Killer takes Kidd’s hand in his, it’s all tenderness. Killer’s thumb brushes over Kidd’s knuckles, the same spot he presses a soft kiss to. Kidd lets him, squeezing back.

Their fingers entangle without really having to think about it, years of partnership in a single touch; and with the Punk's gentle sway all around them, they allow themselves to drift.

[josiebelladonna]

the mirror never lies | chapter one | where it all began (lars’ point of view)

someone better slap me, I’m posting fanfiction on a place where 98% of fanfiction falls on deaf ears.

This is following in the footsteps of Stay from @daveighmustaine (she wrote that in honor of her grandmother; I’m writing this in honor of both my grandparents, whom I never got to say good-bye to either, as well as my sister-in-law who couldn’t stand me and thus I never found a chance to reconcile before she was killed) except we’re focusing more on my problems with self-harm, self-injury, body dysmorphia, and disordered eating, so please don’t read if you’re easily triggered, or at least use caution.

The idea for this also came to me in a dream, so... yeah. Of course I had to write this one. This is also available on my Wattpad (josiebelladonna) and my AO3 (nirvhannahcornell, under the pseud josiebelladonna) 😘😘

It is in fact good to be back here in Europe, to return after being over in the United States for a few years. It has only been a few years after having emigrated to New York and then out to Los Angeles for my training sessions, but even stepping on the ground in Cardiff is enough to let me take a strong whiff of the air around us. A few years can fly but also feel so long at the same time. An eternity on my end.

How I have missed the British Isles!

There are often times where I would swing my tennis racket about the court and I wanted a bit of that luxurious English breakfast. The one with all of the trimmings, all of the sauce on the toast and hash browns, all of it. Enough calories and good fats to spike the charts of American readings.

But then alas, there stands Copenhagen: behold! We are going to my home. I'm going home. I'm going home and here are the guys with me.

I don't know if it's the sight of Anthrax right behind us, or the sight of an ad up on the wall of a man with the most chiseled looks one could achieve, but the thought of seeing all of my friends again in Copenhagen must come with a price.

Too many times in Danish school, I would find myself under the realm of the leering gazes of most of the kids. Sure, I had my friends then, but we were outnumbered.

The words came with a price. Their giggles coupled with their stares. It seared right through me.

Words hurt. One can dismiss it with the whole chant of sticks and stones, but the truth of the matter is one never forgets the words, especially when followed with laughter. One never forgets those words when they are thrown out ad infinitum, every day, without question and without warning so all one can do is stand there and stare and wonder what the hell just happened.

Sometimes once is enough. Sometimes all it takes for the girl you like to tell you that she doesn't want to be seen with the boy whom everyone thinks is a girl. She doesn't want to be seen with the boy with the fat round face. It is because of that I often have difficulty looking at my own reflection: I think of Helga and the way she spoke to me that morning in fourth year Danish school. I had a crush on her and she took my heart and tore it into two.

If there is one issue I must point out about James, it is the fact I do not feel as though I can speak to him about anything that went down in the past on my end. Sometimes I will rouse a reaction out of Kirk but James and Cliff seem to be forming a league of their own. Two guys without mention or respect for the other side of life, the soft interior of our minds and bodies. Two guys who, I will do absolutely anything for, but they make no mistake that they would rather hide inside of themselves at the mention of softness. James gave me this damn scar over my left eye, for God’s sake.

I adjust the strap of my overnight bag when Scott's big Queens accent catches my ear. I turn my head to find them bringing up the rear, right behind Kirk and myself. Even in the late September rain, they're rocking their colorful shorts in junction with their little jackets.

Sometimes I wish I could help them some more. These five guys from New York who are oft treated as the strange ones when taken in junction with us, Megadeth, and Slayer. Five guys all of whom struggle with their money and with promoting themselves and their otherwise badass music. But we are in fact family no matter what happens. Scott and Frankie let James and I stay with them when we were trying to get our shit together as a band. We related with them and their trying to compile themselves together as a band—that was back when Neil sang for them, too.

I'm looking on at their singer, Joey. He's the extra svelte one wrapped up in that little black leather jacket, the one with the disheveled long black curls behind his head and that funny little crown of them atop his head, like he's a prince or something.

I will never forget the first time I watched him perform in L'Amours back in New York City. Kirk told me that our friends from Anthrax had found a new singer following Neil and Lilker's departures and thus we went to go see them perform when we arrived there for a small show.

His voice was too big for that room. The way it soared and seared throughout every corner of the room: I feel the chills returning to my arms and my spine upon thinking about it.

He stood there on the stage with the microphone up to his dark lips and the guys going forth right behind him all the while, but that man sang as though it was his last night on Earth. His curls sprawled down one side of his face but he didn't seem to care. It was the very second the first note flew out of his mouth that he was their man—their producer Carl even agreed with me on that!

I can tell he's Indian from the stoic look upon his face and within those deep brown eyes. He just looks like he's meant to be a part of them, like he belongs with them, and yet... something is off.

I cannot explain it. Maybe it's the dark skin, maybe it's the grim look plastered on his face, but there is something about seeing him with Scott, Frank, Dan, and Charlie gives me an odd feeling. Perhaps there is something more to him.

This will in fact be a long tour—I shall have to find the time to speak with him and make him feel a little more comfortable with all of us here.

[elavita]

11/20/2022 - Intro

TW - many triggering topics discussed (Self harm, abuse, etc)

Hi! My name is Finnegan Felix MacPherson, but you can just call me Finn. I am 20 years old, and I am from Buffalo, New York. I enjoy nature and long walks on the beach. I have 2 parents, and a sister. I am fascinated by anything. My passions include sailing and learning new languages. I go to school for engineering, and I love everything about it.

And,

I am gay.

Growing up in the Midwest was not always easy. I have lots of trauma as most 20-year-olds do now. As you may know, it's not always easy being, well... different.

My family is quite loving, yet dysfunctional. We all have our issues, and we all don't know how to deal with them. I personally have body dysmorphia, depression, and anxiety. My sister has OCD. And my parents don't know how to deal with those situations.

School was tough, but I got through it. I came out when I was 15, but I've had issues regarding my sexuality before then. I was 14 when I was sexually assaulted, and it had me all sorts of messed up. It spiraled me down into a dark valley, filled with dead Ash trees and decrepit gargoyles and castles. This is what lead me into a my 'gay panic' phase. An aside - I am not saying that the sexual assault, is what caused me to be gay, but it definitely made me feel inferior as a human. This contributed to my body dysmorphia, and hypersexuality later in life.

Upon entering high school, I was constantly made fun of for how I look, talk, and act. I wasn't like the other guys. I loved sports, and still do don't get me wrong, but I also was very musical and a nerd. I got called many slurs, such as 'fag', 'queer', you name it. I hadn't even realized I was gay, yet all my classmates made this decision for me.

Eventually I did come out, slowly but surely. I told friend after friend. I initially came out as Bi, but I began to come to terms with only liking boys. However, someone who I thought was my friend had outed me to most of the school. I decided to come out publicly at school. I had no other choice.

I began to develop anxiety and depression. I started to slit my wrists.

I hated myself.

I told my sister and parents about my revelation, and they also had found out about my cutting habit.

They were terrified.

Not because I was gay, they were super accepting, but they were afraid I was going to kill myself. They sent me off to therapy, but it never really has helped until recently.

I spent my teen years crushing on straight guys, something quite unproductive. This lead me further into an even more sinister state of mind. Despite being clean for a couple of years, I started to cut again.

On Christmas Eve during my senior year, I tried to kill myself. I was sent to the hospital, and I felt so guilty for making my parents stay in a hospital during Christmas. How perfect, the happiest time of the year, and I wanted to kill myself.

Eventually, I got "healthy", and graduated in the top five percent of my class. I decided to start school in Florida, where I would live with my aunt and commute. That really didn't work out though.

See, my aunt wasn't the most agreeable person on the face of the planet. She bullied me and my grandmother, who was living down there at the time, quite profusely. I also got involved with people. I had met someone who I thought I could trust. I ended up giving away my virginity to this person, because he said it was going to develop into a relationship. This sunk me back into a horrible state of mind despite being ok for the past half of a year. Things only got worse when conflict arose with my aunt. The constant fighting with her got so bad, I had to drive my grandmother and I all the way back to Buffalo the day my semester ended.

I was lonely, scared, angry, and sad. I had lost friends, and a family member.

Upon returning home, I had learned that my father had lost his job. This crushed me, and I began to self-harm again. I attended school virtually the following semester, and then I transferred back to a local school.

Things were much tougher, which lead to my anxiety spiking to all-time highs. Eventually, I went back to therapy, and I have been dealing with my mental illnesses ever since.

I also started to have horrible body perception issues after leaving Florida, and still continue to do. I go to the gym now every day. I'm told I look great; however, I still see the same fat kid in the mirror every single day.

Now here today arises. Instead of being a year and a half clean from self-harm, I am only two days clean.

My dog passed two days ago. He was my soul, my best friend.

I've also been going back to church quite frequently as I am again struggling to accept my identity, and I feel so lost in regard to my sexuality. I hear that what I feel is wrong, and that I am able to control my urges, yet I feel like I am going to explode if I don't express my true identity.

This all has coalesced in yet again me trying to kill myself two days ago and slitting my wrists. I am no longer feeling like I want to end my life, but I am still so lost and depressed. I feel like the weight of a million suns are pushing down on my chest, while I gasp for a breath.

I have actively been trying to hide my left wrist, but it's hard to do that especially when you live with parents who worry as much as mine do about my well-being.

I also was sending pictures of myself to people I had met on various dating apps. I hated doing that, but my past relationships with people had made me feel like I had to do that to get a boy's attention, and that is the only way I'd be wanted. I hated degrading myself, but I thought I wasn't worth anything to begin with.

This is ultimately what lead me back to church; where I have only felt more confused.

I haven't had sex in nearly two-and-a-half-years now, and I quit self-pleasure. I feel hopeless when it come to love. I feel like I'll never find 'the one', like they always say in TV.

But that all could change.

I have been hanging around this boy. He is in a class of mine. I actually think he may be gay too, and that's not just wishful thinking.

His name is Jacob, and he is just like me.

He loves engineering, and he is passionate about it like me. He is so easy to have and hold a conversation with. He is so smart, and funny.

He is gorgeous too. He has sandy hair and brown eyes. Kind of lanky, but in a cute way. His smile beams like the Las Vegas Strip, and he is so handsome. He has great style.

His scent is what really gets me. I am not sure what cologne he wears, but he smells like the breeze coming off the warm Mediterranean. I desperately want to steal one of his sweatshirts, and just wear it. I want to be surrounded by his aroma. I am usually allergic to such perfumes, but his is so ambrosial.

He looks so cuddly and cozy now that it is winter. He dresses in sweats or jeans, but he wears a big heavy parka every day to school.

Hearing his voice makes me want to jump into his arms. It is so melodic, and deep.

His lips... his lips are so plump and red, like a ripe Gala apple. I want to kiss them so bad. I want to taste his saliva, and caress his face, as he holds me.

But I don't know if he feels the same.

I think I have a crush.

~ Finn

[junkiepterodactyl]

Lol coming back to tumblr after a year and a half and reading all my old personal posts is so fucking weird like shit has changed so fucking much in a year and half. 

TL;DR: I’m not asexual, I’m finally over anorexia shit and I graduated

The guy I’ve basically had a low-key ‘omg he’s so attractive and cool i think he hates me even though we work together‘ vibe with since like 2013 asked me to go to his house january 2016 and then over those few months after we would periodically see eachother and text and I started super crushing on him super hard and then on July 1st we had this drunken ‘what is this?’ conversation and we started dating and I was like ‘we gotta take shit slow ok’ because i did not want this to end up as another ‘me pushing me to do stuff I’m super uncomfortable with in order to try and convince myself i like dick [or vagina] ‘ but after like 3 months I was very confident in the ‘no I’m definitely sure I want to do this for the good reasons’ and so yeah my dreams of not being asexual forever came true turns out i can love and sex is great BUT the point is  we’ve been together for 16 months and I’m head over heels in love and we are completing on our apartment in Cardiff on friday and will be moving in there by December it’s all extremely exciting and I can’t wait because this whole moving process is STRESS especially on him because it’s his apartment and his name on the forms and he’s currently doing his masters dissertation which is due TOMORROW so he’s been super stressed and i’ve barely seen him in person these past 3 months compared to how much we used to hang out. 

I haven’t been ‘depressed’ for about a year except for pms being a bitch over summer but now I have stuff going on in my life and it’s exciting I’m not feeling down nearly as much. I still care too much about my weight and how i look but I only weigh myself every 6 months or so and get weighed at the doctors every 6 when i get a new pill prescription and since I went fully vegan a year ago (same time as when I started the pill) my weight only went up a little at uni (when i was going to the gym quite a bit so i assume muscle gain?) and since leaving uni in april it dropped like 3lbs and has now stayed the exact same (like to the 1/4 lb exactly the same) for 6 months despite my diet being all over the place. And last summer (because I FINALLY stopped fucking about with binging/restricting/overexercising in various forms/combinations for the first time since I was like 15 so six years woah) i grew 2-3cm so am now an inch taller than i had been from 15-20 and whilst the last traces of anorexia-minded me says I’d be super comfortable with like 1/2-1stone less on me, sane minded me is actually super comfortable with where I’m at and obviously my body likes it right here. I still get bad body dysmorphia and I feel like I don’t look the weight that I am (because 2 years ago me had this as a ‘goal-’i am literally in the overweight bmi right now please can i lose 2 stone’-weight’ hence the fucking relapse) but when it gets super bad i just weigh myself, see it hasn’t shifted at all and get over it. i can wear a bikini and not want to die so I’ll take what i can because I’m 22 I’m so done caring about this shit. I don’t count calories anymore or choose food based on fat or whatever. I’m definitely at the 95% recovered/solidly in remission stage and have been for 18 months and it’s great i love it here. it also helps having a partner who says often that they like your bod because it gives mew a massive ego boost.

My social anxiety still gets the better of me a lot but when looking for our flat i had to phone estate agents and i have made doctors appointments myself like 5 times now and i can get a haircut without stressing out. like it’s not always the exac haircut i want but it’s good enough so i’ll take it.

I graduated and got a first and got an award for my dissertation. I had a low-key panic attack before going into the cathedral and I hated every second of that entire experience I just wish I didn’t go. but it’s over and I never have to do that again. I have a degree after 2 years of hell and one year of ‘let me just get this shit over with so i can live with my boyf and be in love and happy all the time’ 

God i swear I’ve never been happier and more content in my life (and it’s only going to get better) i really hope nothing bad happens in the near future 

[falling-between-the-cracks]

35. I hate him, very very much

March 2019

Seeing someone, getting to know them and being in a relationship with them is all an interesting time. I’m not going to sit here and lie and be like I have had a lot of experience in this particular area. As a matter of fact, due to years of neglect my love life, and my ability to navigate romantic relationships is actually non-existent. Which is why I am beyond floored by the recent strides I have made in my most recent relationship and what scares me the most about him.

I think I wrote abouat Asian boy a while back, and this is what I actually mean. Prior to this relationship each guy I have ever seen has been a boy of sorts. White boy, greek boy, rower boy, now Asian boy. But he is the first I don’t want to call Asian boy. I want to say his name, I want to see him, I want to hug him, and I want to kiss him like all the time. He is invading my thoughts, he is taking over my day as I wait impatiently for every message from him. He is the one I hate the most in the world right now, for making me feel like this.

What also scares me is that we haven’t even been seeing each other for very long. As a matter of fact it will be one month this weekend, of which I wasn’t even in the same country as him for a whole week. Yet the strides I have made with him, not only in terms of conversation, but getting to know him, doing things with him, wanting to do things with him, I’m floored by. Unlike white boy, the last long term relationship I had prior to this, I actually want to see him all the time. I want to take more time out of my schedule, cancel what needs to be cancelled to see him. How bad is this, I stayed up until 2am for him, I biked across London for him, I had him over the night before I was due to graduate.

And what I don’t know is whether this is normal. Whether it is normal that this early on, roughly 3 weeks in you’re both getting comfortable in each others place. You’re meeting each others friends (he has met a lot of mine, thought I am yet to meet most of his). That you’re having facebook wars with old cringe photos and posts. That youre staying up late into the night talking about random things, that move from our profiles on facebook, to the games we played when we were younger, to celebrity crushes. That you’re sharing each others clothes (albeit out of necessity). That you’re offering to cook for each other (as he has) or that you’re offering to go to academic milestones for each other (as I have).

This is uncharted territory for me. And it panics me. And it worries me. And it leaves me with feelings of confusion, fear, worry, but above all this all leaves me with a fire burning. I am unable to stop thinking about him. I want to know what he’s doing, I want to know how he’s doing, I want him to be with me each night and I want to just hug him all the time. I want to know everything there is to know about him, and I want to be his future.

This is what worries me. I want so much, and I don’t know if he wants the same. All of this feels different. In my previous relationships, this part was hard work, but it hasn’t been with him. Our conversations have flowed, albeit at one point I was annoyed with him because I felt like we were not talking about our days but I realized that’s because we have so much more to talk about. We have each others lives to catch up on, and day to day life is rather boring to be discussed so timely. That was my mainstay of communication with white boy, and it is here sitting writing this that I realise its because we didn’t have anything else to discuss. We never went further down into each others lives, we never learned about each other, we never felt the need to know about each other. In retrospect it was probably more of a companionship relationship than a romantic one.

Which is why I am currently shocked. I am shocked by my behavior, I am shocked by the lengths I am willing to go for him, I am shocked by how much I want to know him, and how much I want him. And this scares me. As was pointed out recently to me, I don’t do well with commitment. Which is very interesting because I have always picture myself as someone who would be excellent at commitment. I mean after all I believe in the long term, once in a lifetime love and marriage, and I am determined to make that happen for me. So why am I so fearful of commitment.

I think if I were to discuss what it is that causes this in me, it would boil down to many issues, most of which I’m afraid I don’t even know at the minute. But one that has been at the forefront of my mind recently has been hurt. I don’t want to be hurt. I don’t want to feel pain, and I don’t want to get so invested that it hurts me, down to my bones, when or if this comes to an end. Which is why I have always kept relationships at an arms length. Which is why I have for the longest time refused to let myself become involved with someone. Which is why I find myself hesitating with him.

A friend I met recently said to me go for it. I mean that’s not what she said, but what she said basically boiled down to these three words; go for it. And I want to. I want to put my all into this, and I want him to know I am fully 100% down and in for whatever this is and wherever this goes as long as it is with him. I am down to see how and where this goes. I am ready to explore these uncharted waters as long as I have him. But what if I scare him away. What if I show him this part of me and he suddenly realizes I feel too strongly. He doesn’t feel as strongly. What if it makes him see me in a different life. I mean after all we have only had 3 official dates, 1 unofficial date in a club and 1 time he came over after a night out. We haven’t spent enough time together to be able to judge if we really do want to invest in this. This is what my logical scientific brain says. But my heart says different things. My heart reads back over the messages we wrote to each other, the things we discuss, the conversations we have had and it goes into overdrive. It begins imagining things it has no right to imagine. It begins to seep into my brain and make me feel confusing things. It makes me want to go crazy.

But I know I want this. I have never felt more alive, I have never felt more committed and I have never felt more invested. I have never wanted to know anyone as much as I want to know him. I have never wanted to see and hear someone as I have wanted to see and hear him. I have never wanted to hug and kiss someone as badly as I want to hug and kiss him. And all of this is frightening. I keep coming back to the same emotion to the same topic. I am simply going in circles.

A while back when after only 1 date he asked if I was going out, and came out to see me at a club – which I still believe he did not come to see me but my friends would think otherwise, I spoke to some of them after. I tried to convince them how this was weird, how this was confusing, what did he want, why did he come out, why did he spend the entire night with me, even thought I was dragging him from place to place with my friends. They all in return got confused (some even angry) at me. What did I mean. He wanted to see me, they said, he wanted to get to know me and have a good night out with me. But I couldn’t get over this feeling of confusion. I still cannot get over this feeling of confusion and I think with it, it brings another insecurity of mine.

I have always had body issues. I don’t think I have body dysmorphia exactly but I definitely have issues with the way I look, the way I dress, the way I do everything. And this is a love hate relationship really. Sometimes I will see myself walking in a mirror and feel like the sexiest, best looking, beautiful bad bitch that I want to be. And other times I will be shocked at my own reflection, and want to curl up and never venture outside ever again.

And over the years I have had trouble in understanding what it is about me that attracts people. In the past year alone there have been several romantic interests in real life, not even including people on dating apps. I see myself and I see a brown semi fat boy, with facial spots, a hairy body and an inability to look good. And I think this is what is playing up with me and Asian boy. He to me looks so beautiful, so cute, so adorable that I am confused as to why he would want to be with me. It confuses me when in he focusses on me, and making sure I am in a place of bliss.

He confuses me. He worries me. He scares me. I don’t know what is normal, I don’t know where it is that we are going, I don’t know how it is we are going to get where we are going. But what I do know is that despite these feelings of confusion, of fear, of worry, of slight panic, I do know what I want. I do know that I want to get to know him. I do know that I want to know about his past and his present and I want to be a part of his future. And as terrifying as these new feelings and emotions may be, I cannot deny the excitement he gives me, the feeling joy his messages instill in me, and the connection that I think, and sense, we have.

So heres to the future. We may not know what is coming but it is coming, and I can only hope for the best. I guess that is why the age old saying is the way it is. The past has been and gone and cannot be changed, the future is unknown and not here yet, but the present is a gift which is why its called the present.

[transgalthoughts]

CW -

sex and drugs and dysmorphia (dun dun dun dun, dun dudun)

Also this is super long don't read it if you're just procrastinating work for 2 mins

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There's no point or agenda to this post, except to rant and talk about something I haven't really spoken about before (I've spoken about the events but not the feelings associated with them). I'm a straight guy. I'm kinda more than just like only attracted to girls though, I'm kinda physically repulsed by men's bodies (tbh including my own) regardless of how good a shape they are in. I'm not trying to make any guys feel like crap or like they as men will always be inherently unattractive.

I think the kinda constant admiration of how beautiful all women are but how gross men are which is spouted by male and female comedians constantly is really crap, and probably (along with super strong gender roles of attraction) a large part of why I will never be able to look at my body with anything other than disgust. This isn't even a *trying but not achieving the male standards of beauty* story. I've at several points reached an appearance where I've felt like I was conventionally attractive, but still, abject disgust at my body. There weren't things I was obsessing over which I wanted to change but couldn't I just felt like ny virtue of being a man my body was inherently disgusting: I could be morbidly obese, I could be mr universe, I could be Ryan Reynolds but still my body would be gross, I know I'm repeating myself I just wanna be absolutely clear that I'm not talking about being caught up by unrealistic male beauty standards I'm talking about being caught up by the societal perception that men are inherently somewhat physically repulsive (or at least significantly less attractive than women, simply by virtue of being men).

This belief had been perpetuated in every relationship I have been involved in. I have rarely been complimented by partners on my physical appearance and even then it's mostly been in moments when I have complimented them first and it's never been in any kind of deep *lying down looking at each other* way it's always been kinda offhand. I know obviously that a lot of people don't do the whole *deep lying down looking at each other, complimenting the other* thing but I have in all my relationships so I know it's not just that they found that too barfworthy.

Also, and probably mainly, sex has never really been that fun for me. For me the thing I've liked most about the idea of sex is feeling attractive, even if I'm just feeling like the other person finds me attractive. But I've never had that. In my past relationships when I've gone down on someone, or been having penetrative sex with them, or anything else (which I'm not going into detail about) it's mainly been them like closing their eyes or rolling their eyes back saying it felt really good, only occasionally glancing at me and even then knowing they were just doing it cos they liked knowing I was looking at them even if they didn't give a shit about what I looked like and I was essentially just a sex toy which made them feel desired. And I just can't find any type of sex that doesn't just make me feel like I might as well be in a boiler suit with a bag over my head because my physical appearence is so inherently separated from any enjoyment of the sex. I've even told some of these people how I have felt about this and asked them if they could try making eye contact with me more or saying I look hot or whatever but they just never did or said it felt unnatural. One of them was even bi so I know it wasn't just how they are used to and enjoy having sex it's how they are used to and enjoy having sex with men. But suffice it to say all this has kinda got me to the point where I just don't know if I can handle being in another sexual relationship. I would feel like a liar to pretend to be asexual when I'm definitely not, just because I don't ever have good experiences with sex despite knowing exactly what it would take for that to change but not being able to get that because every girl I have been with has wanted to try out BDSM but not felt comfortable maintaining eye contact or complimenting me during sex. Although I definitely think that unless I find someone who actively, I mean realistically in all areas, but physical appearance being the major one, just treats me exactly how they want to be treated down to the letter (and not just someone who hypothetically agrees with me that the best relationships are based on treating the other person exactly how you want to be treated but then realise after a couple months that they actually quite like the genderisation of relationships in certain areas). Like if people were honest about it it would be fine, I could just filter out 90% of the population and date the 10% that do want to interact like that but no one is. Every girl I have been with has agreed that they want a relationship based on the assumption that in every situation, unless otherwise explicitly stated, you behave exactly towards your partner as you want them to behave towards you and that gender shouldn't factor into any kind of relationship expectations, everyone I have dated has agreed with that either just after we started dating or before we did, and not one of them has continued to agree with that even 1 month down the line, so it's not just that I have a smaller pool of people to date from it's that I will have to date, I would imagine around 9 people, before I found 1 that actually made me feel like they maybe found me attractive. And maybe I am just ugly, but I also have had lots of people have crushes on me, about 10 people that I know of in secondary school who actually told me they liked me, and around 7 at uni so far who have told me that they liked me.

Anyway at one point after the longest time single I have been since 15 I went to a bar/club by myself cos hey maybe I could pick someone up or maybe I could make some friends for a night. I don't know why I thought this, I am pretty socially anxious, and have never even attempted to hook up with anyone before (only been in several long term relationships) which is why I'm pretty certain those crushes can't have come from my charm. Anyway I met some gay guys in the first bar and immediately gave up on attempting to hook up with someone and they adopted me for the night, and it was great fun, honestly the only night out I have actually enjoyed because I was only dancing with other guys so wasn't anxious about accidentally touching anyone and didn't need to constantly human shield the women in the group from creeps. Then I went back to theirs and one of them fell asleep immediately, The other guy got me to like try on different tight clothing like he was like *oh do you wanna get out of your jeans and wear my joggers* (which were super tight and not comfy at all as they were a non-flexible material) so I did, and then I just sat down on his bed next to him and he started slightly touching me up, unbuttoning my shirt a little bit, that kinda thing. Then he offered me some coke (until then I had literally only had alcohol both that evening and in my life). We did 3 or 4 lines each and I know that sounds like a lot but it didn't really affect me, which is weird because I now know that I get affected by weed really strongly (half a blunt will have me talking out loud to myself and the people I am with, with several different personalities or characters) and cigarettes probably affect me about the same amount as weed. I want to make it clear that I was still in my right mind (just with less anxiety and kinda amped up for anything) before I say the next bit because otherwise the next bit will make the guy sound like a complete arsehole, and he wasn't. Then we started talking a lot and he kissed me, tbh the kissing might have been enjoyable physically if he didn't have a lot of stubble but alas he did. But still we hooked up, I ended up giving him a BJ and the whole time I just, felt incredible. I wasn't horny at all but I have never felt attractive before, and I felt it so so much then it was the best feeling I've ever had. I know what you're thinking *that was probably the coke* but it wasn't because I felt like that before the coke, just not as strongly cos the activity/desire level was lower at that point.

And I've never felt like that since. Idk how to reconcile the fact that that sex gave me the biggest boost with the fact that it was also the only sex I have had where I felt absolutely no sexual desire whatsoever, my desire was simply to be desired.

Random sidenote this whole experience helped me in another way because he gave me very positive feedback on my BJ technique which meant I could actually give one of my female friends advice on BJs (she was willing but super nervous about her performance with a guy she was into) since I have both experienced and given them so I feel like I also gave back to the community.

I feel like I should make a point/ask a question with this even though it is 'Ox' 'fess' so a point is by no means obligatory, even if most posts do include them.

Do any other guys or gals or non-binary pals also feel like this or had similar experiences

Does anyone have any advice on how to approach/deal with this (even if you have no experience, I am well and truly clueless about how to approach this)

If you're in a long term relationship with someone and you think they look nice at any point please don't just think it, say it out loud. I know it might seem cringe but honestly it might make the absolute world of difference to them.

And also I just wanna add like I'm sorry if this came across as aggressive. I am pissed off with society as a whole, and my experiences have frustrated and fucked me up a lot, which is why this has a lot of frustration, but that's frustration at the fact that I found myself deeply unhappy in relationships with people who were pretty nice and I had a lot in common with, but because of quite rigid gender expectations in certain areas found myself unable to feel like I was valued on some of the things that for me being valued in is pretty crucial for a relationship. Idgaf if most people don't think I'm attractive but I need my partner to think I am, and unfortunately have yet to get that feeling.

Anyway that first bit is actually a lie. I am actually a trans woman (lol in case you didn't guess from my name), but this is my experience from living as a straight guy. I'm now wondering if those feelings come from being trans, or if they're something unrelated, or if it's somewhere inbetween, or if I'm just a weirdo.

[audibleaddixion]

AUDIBLE EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW: Eve Minor Discusses Her New 3:33 Album, Paradise Apocalypse, Inspirations, and More!

https://ift.tt/2W9jG9i

Eve Minor is an alien.

And that’s probably the most accurate description you can give this artist. She is completely unique and embodies her art in every breathe, refusing to be labeled. Eve’s music blends sounds like punk, rock, trap, pop, goth, into darkly beautiful gems. As a multi-instrumentalist and completely independent artist, she is always inspired and working on the next big project for her fans. We got a chance to sit down with her in an exclusive interview to discuss her new album, touring, her personal motivation, and upcoming projects.

Audible Addixion (AA): As an artist, you have a huge fanbase and cult following, what do you think connects fans to your music so much?

Eve Minor (EM): I understand them and they understand me on a very intimate level. My art is a reflection of my life in real-time, mostly and they get to live with me and that body of work moment to moment. We share this one life and breath.

AA: What was the inspiration for the single, “Ostara”?

EM: I want to find my forever. I feel in the ether for months someone has been calling out to me. I astral project, and have taught the selective few in my collective, the militia. We meet in the “upside-down” or “3D world” at 3:33. Ostara is me finding this person and culling them. I can feel them in my entity, they need me and I need them; they are my twin flame, my mirror soul and I am determined to find them outside of dreams and in present reality.

AA: That’s amazing, definitely hope you find them! Congratulations on the new album 3:33 now released as well! What can fans look forward to with this project?

EM: A completely unique experience. It combines many different musical and sonic motifs and is a performance art experience. It will walk you to different rooms of my life, heart, and soul. “Epsilon” is actually a unique track that is intended for astral projection soundscape. It combines binaural beats and frequencies which trigger different sensations in the brain; I studied neuroscience and physics and how they correlate to music and sound and color. It elaborates on that and provides a unique listening sensation, that is heard audibly but will give you chills and other sensory feelings. If you listen to it before you go to sleep you can meet me at the source, with most of the militia in 3D.

AA: What can we expect differently from Dear Diary, I’m Over It?

EM: Dear Diary was an accidental album. I constructed it as a long-winded purging of the past and put it up as a visual art piece for the militia on Christmas. It was cathartic and helped me release and transition into the next phase of my life. Dear Diary, sonically uses guitars an alternative rock themes and has a lot of interludes from dark moments in my life. On 3:33, it’s more of a transcendental piece and less of a straight-forward album, much like “Dark Side of The Moon” by Pink Floyd. It’s to be experienced, preferably in person.

AA: How did you develop this dark sound in your music, and why do you think it resonates so well with fans?

EM: I’ve always been very dark but have been hiding it until lately. I used to reel myself back because I had a really shitty group of musicians around me. They used to try and tell me to “lighten up” and be “more poppy” for the sake of money, which I don’t believe in. I am a philanthropist and give with my soul, any dollar I have I basically give away. However, being dark- if you listen to “Agoraphobia” and understand what it’s like to be completely abandoned as a feral child and forced to thrive on your own, I don’t think you’d be much lighter than an occasional smile. It resonates because I am the darkness. I am the red-headed stepchild who’s been cast in a corner and forgotten. I am proverbially a leper, however, it doesn’t aid me much to tell people I have body dysmorphia and all these issues outside of my art, they just wouldn’t believe me, as most are fixed in their thoughts and shallow in this industry. That’s why it resonates because I’m a real mf. I hear my militia, I know what it feels like to feel alone in the world and like nobody can hear you no matter how loud you scream.

AA: Well said! You’re also known as a multi-sound artist that likes to blend genres, how did you develop that ability and when did you know your music could never be put in a box?

EM: I am something different. I studied color theory and with high shamanic mystics in my youth on seeing colors as sound. It’s something intrinsically intuitive that most wouldn’t grasp. I always had natural musical ability and just applied the theory while breaking those rules to every instrument and began creating my own instruments. I think it’s like anything else, if you create so purely it is what the piece calls for. It transfers to life; you must be present. Every piece is present and honest. You can’t think about it if you’re honest, then you’d be lying to yourself and others. When I feel something, I really feel it at that moment, and as someone highly creative my moments are always changing, so I almost never feel the same twice. lol

AA: With the 3:33 tour and 3Summer tour, what can we expect from these live shows and are there any surprises you have in store for us?

EM: Ah yes. lol the 3:33 tour. So conceptually I’m looking for my forever here. 3:33 will be a reflection in real time of that, the first leg is Ostara which will become 3Summer. These live shows are going to be something completely unexpected. I’m really an unrehearsed, raw, honest artist. I can not tell you exactly what will happen but I know it will be different every time. As with my art, I just let it pour out of me, so the performances will be reflective of such. I will definitely be drinking a lot of blood backstage, and the militia knows to bring blood for me I need the prana. I decapitated a life-size teddy bear at a punk show recently, it’s really, however, I feel at the moment. 3Summer will be my move to LA. The universe wants me there so I am flowing with it.

AA: Can you tell us about “Paradise Apocalypse”?

EM: The world is on fire. I was having a conversation with my dear friend Dwid Hellion from Integrity, and he recommended these real cool books for me to read which put a worm in my brain. I am a huge hardcore and powerviolence enthusiast, so it combines breakdown and beatdown hardcore motifs with trap and whatever I bring to the table. It’s a juxtaposition, bliss and despair. It’s about the current state of the world and how it translates to myself. Of course, though, there’s always a boy, I crush all the time with people I never get to meet. I think subconsciously I wanted this guy to fuck with it lol… I digress, I was listening to a lot of Ghostemane at the time too and XXXtentacion, so there’s probably some influence there as well- I think Eric is amazing and I’m so proud of him as an artist. Paradise apocalypse is really me just embracing how truly fucked I am right now. Everything around me is literally in flames and I’m pretty much that meme with the dog drinking coffee going “this is fine”.

AA: You seem constantly motivated, hardworking, and completely living in your art, what keeps you inspired as an artist?

EM: I didn’t choose to be an artist, it chose me. I really tried to do other things, but I’m naturally outside the box in my thoughts and I’m a do-er. I manifest my reality on pure thought and impulse. I’m inspired by so many things it’s hard to pinpoint but a lot of it is true despair and tragedy and trying to pull those feelings out and make them beautiful. It’s like burning pieces of yourself and laughing into the fire because they’re over after that. They’ve evolved into ash, and all you have is that memory of something beautiful blowing in the wind.

AA: With so much going on and already accomplished, what’s next for Eve Minor and what are your future goals as a rising star in today’s music?

EM: I am a star. I am the brightest star shining in the depths of the dawn. I have so many goals artistically. I know I have been working on a new record, even though 3:33 just came out. I have plans to finish that up. I am in talks with some labels and A&R’s and I think maybe it will help me on the managing side of my craft. I’m solely indie so it can be overwhelming at times, juggling so much. I do want to play more shows I think 3Summer will provide that. It’s hard because I live my life so, at the moment, I don’t know if there is a tomorrow, or even another minute for me sometimes. Regardless, I have a few collabs I’m trying to accomplish but mostly I want to continue to give back. I really want to help elevate other people and give back, if it’s buying someone a latte or running a contest and handing out tickets, small things that add up. I want to love everyone. I guess that’s my plan. Pure love. No cap. <3

Thank you Eve Minor for the interview opportunity! Go check out that new album if you haven’t already and be on the lookout for “Paradise Apocalypse” coming soon!

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[biofunmy]

A ‘Euphoria’ Star Wants to See the Show Get Even More Queer

LOS ANGELES — From across the lawn at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery, Barbie Ferreira, the 22-year-old actor who plays Kat in “Euphoria,” spotted her co-star and “bestie,” Hunter Schafer. The two, who have become inseparable through working on the HBO series about teens navigating drugs and debauchery at a Southern California high school, ran up to each other and embraced.

“Hunty, baby, you look so cute!” Ms. Ferreira said.

Ms. Ferreira and Ms. Schafer were meeting friends to see “Jawbreaker,” the ’90s cult film — and Ms. Ferreira’s “all-time favorite” — in an outdoor theater at the cemetery, part of the Cinespia film series there. Clad in a lime green bathing suit under a tangerine long-sleeve John Paul Gaultier top, electric blue bike shorts, complete with a yellow bathrobe tie fashioned as a choker, Ms. Ferreira had dressed for the occasion. Her look was “so ‘Jawbreaker,’” she said.

Ms. Ferreira has gotten a lot of attention for her personal style, and said she has learned to use clothing as a way to embrace her body. It’s something she has in common with her “Euphoria” character. “I also hated myself for so long, as a lot of young girls do, and then I just had to not fall into that trap and make a very conscious decision not to do it,” Ms. Ferreira said, sitting on a couch before the film started. After spending a lot of time in her teen years reading “thinspo blogs” — blogs that encourage and fetishize thin appearances, often to the point of praising anorexia — Ms. Ferreira said she needed to adjust the way she thought about food. “Every micro-problem with my body was enhanced in my head,” she said. “My dysmorphia was crazy.”

Ms. Ferreira found that, among other things, wearing latex and leather made her feel powerful and comfortable in her skin. “I was like O.K., ‘The cat’s out of the bag. I’m fat,’” she said.

Born in New York City, Ms. Ferreira relocated to East L.A. nearly a year ago after being cast in “Euphoria.” The city seems to suit her. “I get to have plants and an outdoor area, more sun, more farmer’s market and less running to the subway,” she said.

Raised by her Brazilian mother, as well as an aunt and grandmother, in Queens and New Jersey, Ms. Ferreira began doing theater at age 7 at the Variety Boys & Girls Club of Queens, and by 10, she knew she wanted to be an actress. “I started modeling to be an actress,” she said. She sent photos to American Apparel’s casting department at 16 and then became one of the brand’s more well-known curvy models, later earning internet fame for an unretouched campaign for American Eagle’s Aerie brand. In 2017, Ms. Ferreira began starring in Vice’s etiquette show “How To Behave” before taking a small guest-starring role on HBO’s “Divorce.”

In June, she got her biggest break yet: Her character, Kat Hernandez, is a high school junior who writes One Direction fan fiction and seeks to transform her reputation — and explore her sexuality — after losing her virginity. Spoiler alert: Part of her evolution entails becoming a secret “cam girl.”

Acting has been refreshing for Ms. Ferreira because, she said, “modeling felt like my physical body was a prop.” And Ms. Ferreira saw herself in the character of Kat “in every way.” While the actress worried that they would cast someone more established in Hollywood, she knew she had to persist through what was a lengthy casting process. Ms. Ferreira said she auditioned six times before she got the part. “I read the sides, and I was like, ‘This is too close to home, I need to do it.’ I felt such a need to do it. Like, I know I could fill this role out so well because I understand the character so much.” Though her anxiety festered, HBO “picked really authentic people” for the show. “It was down to me and someone else and that’s when I was the most anxious, I was just like please give me a chance,” she said.

Over the course of season one, Kat finds power in becoming a “dominant,” a sexual role that Ms. Ferreira almost took on when she was 18, and broke and living in Brooklyn. While staying at a friend’s house for an extended period, Ms. Ferreira needed an income, and one of her temporary roommates happened to work as a professional dominant. “I was like, ‘I need money. That sounds fun. I’d like to humiliate men for money,’” she said. She didn’t take that job though, she said. “That girl would come back home and be like, ‘I got $500. Some guy wanted me to pull out his teeth.’”

Ms. Ferreira did find one scene in particular emotionally challenging to shoot; in it, Kat confronts her crush about being romantically interested in him. “I couldn’t bring myself to cry,” she said, between coughs. “Sometimes I get in my head, everyone does.”

“Sorry,” she added. “I’m choking on my Juul.”

Ms. Ferreira is already thinking about Kat’s future story lines in season two. The actress recently came out as queer in an “Out Magazine” interview. “I feel like in my personal life I’ve been gay as hell,” she said, and she would love to see her character in “Euphoria” explore her sexuality more. “I think Kat’s a little queer, but that might be my perspective,” she said. She also wants her character to make “bad decisions.”

Why? “How else do you learn?” she asked. “You don’t. Until one day you make a good decision.”

As for Ms. Ferreira, she’s content with her own decisions and where her career is headed. Her mother feels the same, Ms. Ferreira said: “She’s just happy I’m not selling weed out of a basement in the Bronx right now.”

Sahred From Source link Fashion and Style

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[veneficiumitas]

SHADOW WORK CHALLENGE ► Day 2: Childhood - The Birth of the Shadow

Tarot Q: What facet of my childhood have I overlooked or otherwise need to reevaluate?

THE HANGED MAN

it seems as if the hanged man is telling me i should spend time in (transpersonal?) meditation and/or reflection of my past. it is through suspending myself with my own discernment and intuition, will the answer come to me. only time will tell.

🍂

“Infancy, childhood, and adolescence all set the stage for the development and reinforcement of the shadow. For the sake of brevity, I am using the term ‘childhood’ to cover all of these life stages, however. Bear that in mind whenever I refer to childhood throughout this challenge.”

“Trace back your memories as far as you can. Try to overview your early life in as much detail as possible. Articulate or otherwise express how you experienced childhood as a whole. Heed to any areas of resistance you encounter. Note pivotal turning points or memories that stand out. Attempt to recall the first time you experienced emotions like sadness, anger, jealousy, anxiety, remorse, and contempt.”

🍂

i had a relatively decent childhood. the only abuse i suffered was at the ‘disciplinary’ hands of my mother who was toeing the line of physical abuse until my aunt intervened. i still ran from her, hid under tables, and cried a lot. i was a very oversensitive child who couldn’t bear the brunt of jokes, and i’ve soon come to find that i exhibited symptoms of RSD. both my parents had also emotionally neglected me, so i guess that explains my fragmented sense of self and my perpetual confusion with my emotions.

► MEMORIES THAT STAND OUT:

4-6 YEARS OLD

my mom hitting me with a wooden spoon for shaking and dropping my medicine on the couch; i hid behind my dad who argued with her.

despite all this, i was bold somewhat as a child, holding hands with the boy i liked (then getting yelled at for doing so when there was size order) and having seen a budding friend of mine in kindergarten play fight with another girl whom i mistook at first glance as serious, i tore them apart forcefully only for the girl to grumble that they were only playing. i never came between anyone after that because i took it that i was too dumb to realize that or anything of the sort. i had also asked the other girl in 2nd grade to be my best friend, which she agreed to.

in kindergarten, i had a bully who i can only remember having ripped scissors out of my hand at some point and me subsequently bawling amongst other mean-spirited jives at me.

i was somewhat friends with another girl who was a chronic thief, and due to this alongside her bullying personality, she had a bad reputation.a few grades or so later, i became the bully for a moment when i sneered at her while teasing her about a ‘loser crown.

at some mcdonald’s playground, i was playing with some girl and some random boys would call me an “ugly booger face” or whatever unimaginably horrible insult a 6 year old could come up with, and i remember feeling relieved they weren’t talking about me but the girl i was with, thus i laughed along until it was evident they were talking about me. i told my uncle who mistook what i said, and told all the boys in this particular roomy area of the structure to let me play with them. i felt obligated to crawl in and just started awkwardly jumping around, playing by myself in the end

7-13 YEARS OLD

i wanted to be like one of the ‘cool kids’ and jumped over a single step; then got yelled at by my teacher. i wouldn’t stop incessantly crying, declaring “i hated school” as my dad told my teacher upon seeing me, and i wouldn’t stop well until a few hours later despite my mom’s lackluster efforts in comforting me until she’d yell at me to shut up.

in 2nd grade, i pointlessly fought with a girl over her stuff spilling over into my side of the desk, until we both ended up crying.

i cried until i got a bloody nose over the division of farm animalsbetween me and my group members for some silly project???

a lot of the time in middle school i’d forget things in my bag. in 3rd grade, i once left my folder in my cubby and once i mustered up the courage to ask to go get it, i got yelled at. i held my tears in.

in 4th grade, i accidentally got a small hairbrush tangled in my hair as i was playing with it. incredibly embarrassed, i asked to go to the bathroom to sort it out myself, and stayed for the longest time trying with my ‘friend’ at the time. when i came back to class after going to the nurse despite my humiliated judgement, i got yelled at and the rest of my day was sour.

got cyberbullied due to a shoddily-filmed video of my 5th grade school supplies. in the comments, people would continuously call me a myriad of things-- the most common of them being “whore” and “slut” for some reason? i wanted them to hurt too, so i fired back with replies of my own.

PIVOTAL POINT: in 6th grade, my mental health took a turn for the worst. this was the beginning of the downhill battle i’d still come to fight with today. my hygiene was poor which i’d be self-conscious about, but my mom never taught me basic things i should know growing up so i never bothered with it. one day when a girl was crying because of some other mean girls at my table, another girl i knew said “well at least they didn’t say anything about amaris” to which the girl viciously lashed out with “YES, they have; they talk about how ugly she is!” i always knew people talked shit about me behind my back, and this solidified my belief. i’d also come to overhear the first girl playing “would you rather” with me and presumably a few other ‘ugly’ people. this is the year i started to romanticize mental illness, depression, and suicide.

a friend i had made in 7th grade who was a pathological liar (she was a leo of course lmfao) always got on my last nerve. can’t begin to list all the instances my blood would boil around her (anger?)

other friend had agreed to a jab i had made myself at my mother and i got very pissed off at that.

in 8th grade, i broke down during in-school math tutoring, triggered by the teachers there talking about me and how i would look pretty in a dress or something of the sort. i remember crying out that i thought that i had body dysmorphia. i got sent to the guidance counselor who would basically tell me to practice affirmations in a mirror

broke down again about figuring out how to get home when i was hanging out with a group of stoner kids at a bonfire, having one of them who apparently had a crush on me invite me. i think this was because i felt like a nuisance and bother

14-17 YEARS OLD

real jealousy happened when i met a group of juniors as a freshman with my only friend at the time who was considerably more conventionally attractive than me. the only two guys of the group who we both semi-crushed on pined after her in a oddly manipulative dance of sorts while i got pushed to the sidelines just to witness it all.

i’d get jealous every time she’d mention something about her boyfriend at the time who ended up being one of the juniors we met freshman year. i eventually told her “i didn’t want to hear it” when she told me he called her ‘sweetheart’ for the first time

more jealousy when we both crushed on the same dude later in the year, and she’d supposedly subconsciously flirt and hold his attention for longer than anything i had to offer, or so it seemed

i broke down after talking to an internet friend of mine about aforementioned crush via text, i’d come to dub this night/break down as the first time i’ve ever really felt raw and what it means to feel alive

my melancholia would begin sometime during junior year

anxiety was prominent all throughout my early life, mainly during the night in the dark. my paranoia due to particularly watching the bottom feeder and chucky made me believe they were always just about to jump out and kill me, so i’d constantly lay wide-eyed in bed during the night. in the 3rd grade, i would sleep under the covers due to how big of a thing bloody mary was at the time and my friend group was heavily involved in it. (PIVOTAL POINT) i think the brunt of anxiety started this year, in my senior year, 17 year old me at the start of september would constantly cry/have anxiety attacks before school. come to think of it now, the anxiety became more visceral in my junior year

i’ve never felt real, palpable contempt; maybe the only time i’ve come the closest was when i told a kid who targeted me constantly to annoy, “kill yourself.”

remorse is not an emotion i’ve felt often, i don’t think. i’ll have to contemplate more on this.

(x)

[tweetheartkelly]

This is Jerry! Whoever saw my small comic with him in it already knows he exists, but here's his bio!

-------- Name: Jerry freak Gender: male Species: a bichon terrier chihuahua demon bunny mix (demon bunny since his father is a demon bunny, and bichon terrier chihuahua mix cause his mother is that mix of dog) Age: 16 Personality: responsible, can be suspicious, is normally in a meh mood, can be distant to those he doesn't know well, but is very loving to those he is close to, and might be just a little bit possessive Powers: He has fire based powers Mental disorders: body dysmorphia (how this came about will be in the short back story), and seems to have paranoia Item: a sewing kit

Job: he doesn't work anywhere yet, but is studying to try and become a medical doctor

Hobbies: sewing, drawing, baking (but likes to keep that a secret), and watching mason animate Likes: plushies, art products, collecting action figure, anime and cartoons, and as well as spending time with his father and siblings Hates: strangers, Being stared at, curtains being open wide, people suddenly coming over to speak with him, and his mother (more will be in the short back story)

Relationship: mason Crush: mason of course, they are together Friends: terry, Kiara, the trickster, and his father arvish (as you can see he mainly keeps within the family, but it took awhile for the trickster to become friends with Jerry) Enemies:his mother

Short back story -------- Jerry never really had the best life, Infact he never met his real father for his mother kept him a secret, his mother was abusive to him and neglectful of his twin brother terry, she would always have Jerry hide any demon parts, saying they where awful and she wanted this to be a "normal" household, and cause of her wanting it to be a "normal" household she would constantly have terry stay as a shadow, once while Jerry was at school a bully calling him one eye tore his eyepatch off, revealing his demon eye, everyone was shocked but they also mocked him for it, this caused terry to burst out with anger, and come up out of the ground, but in a shape of a monster screaming loudly at them all, they all fled and once word got out, their mother had to transfer them to a new school, yelling at the two for what happened, Jerry and terry never found out about their father until they found all his letters to them at the age of 16 --------- That's all, hope you guys like it, eeeh, man I want to give Jerry a hug so bad ;w; I love all my characters so much....