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#grunge polaroid picture
wiotas · 2 months
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⋏ ﹏ 🐏 ❁
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⋏ ﹏ 🦷 ❁
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frankiegrunge · 5 months
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p1ercedhe4rts · 11 months
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kgdanny02 · 3 months
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You know what’s better than Polaroids? Tiny photos I printed and made them look like tiny Polaroid photos ❤︎
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nikfiendluvr666 · 1 year
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Polaroids that my best friend and I took of each other <33
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exodusx · 2 years
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The 2014 Tumblr girl in me is resurrecting from the dead ☠️
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spidey-bie · 6 months
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I wish I could think about other things but Hobie x Ansi brain rot consumes me. Here's some random facts.
Since their styles are very similar they occasionally match outfits that combine different elements of both of their styles.
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(Sidenote: It took me so long to find these. Like no black alt couples on Pinterest IG. AND THESE ARE BARELY PUNK OR GRUNGE.)
Occasionally Ansi likes to go out and take pictures around town and when Hobie tags along he'll swipe her Polaroid and snap pictures of her when she isn't looking. If he catches Hobie he'll flip off the camera.
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(Ansi also takes photos of Hobie when he isn't paying attention.)
Hobie slips pins onto Ansi's backpack when she's not looking. Ansi'll reach to grab something and laugh because now he has a punk duckie pin on his bag. (Her favorite pins so far are "bad flare day makes my patience go away" and "you take my breath away, literally" with a picture of an inhaler in the background.)
Ansi embroiders or sews patches for Hobie's battle jacket. (She considered putting together a battle jacket of her own but she hates the texture of jeans and just things being on her arms in general.)
THEY ARE IN LOVE YOU'RE HONOR.
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ellatoone7 · 1 year
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Future can wait (Alessia Russo x Reader)
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"I would break up with you for Anna Kendrick." It took Alessia a few seconds to process what you just said, you were currently cuddled up to your girlfriend with your head on her shoulder and legs intertwined while watching pitch perfect for the 100th time.
"Huh?”Alessia was dumbfounded at what you said, "What does she have that I don't." You clear your throat playfully, "Where do I start." Alessia snapped her head towards you making you laugh. She gives you a nod to let you know you could continue, "First of all you can't sing." Alessia scoffs before sitting up straighter.
"I saw the sign..."
You stared at her in shock before bursting out into a fit of giggles at your girlfriends off key performance. Alessia pouts before slumping back into the couch. "What else?"
Recovering you cup her face, "Well, she that whole. grunge vibe." Alessia scoffed while crossing her arms, "I'm not dying my hair." You sigh disappointedly, "Yeah, I know." You lean your head back against her shoulder as you focus on your celebrity crush.
"I have known you for years and you haven't mentioned her once." Alessia accuses as she shrugs you off, "Well yeah, cause I know you'd get jealous." Alessia goes to argue but the pointed look you gives her cause her to shut her mouth in defeat.
"Fine, I'd leave you for Zac Efron." You freeze before slowly turning to face your smug girlfriend. "You can't do that he's a boy!" Alessia just shrugs before relaxing back, pleased with herself.
"Don't you have some sort of football thing to go to." Alessia chuckles before slipping an arm around you. "You're funny." A quick kiss to the lips and just like that both of you forgot about the petty little argument.
Alessia felt you shiver against her, " "You cold, Darling?" You nod before sighing, "Your body heat seemed to disappear after you mentioned him.? Alesia laughed loudly before kissing your cheek while getting up.
"I'm gonna take advantage of my couple days off and you some popcorn, you want some?" You pause the movie, "yes, please. Get the blankets." Alessia chuckles while nodding big before she goes you tug her back.
"Hurry back, you're warm." Alessia smiles gently before kissing you softly. You try to occupy yourself as you beat your girlfriend fiddle with the microwave. Looking around your house you smile, you thought it was perfect when you first bought it and you still feel the same way now.
After moving to America to be with Less you both had practically lived together in her dorm. So, it was only logical that you found a house whne you moved back to England. Sure, it was small but it was your home nonetheless.
You had deen Iving tnere Tor 3 years now. Mime ya differed you and Less a place just until you found your bearings which you took gratefully but as much as you loved living with Millie and Ella you knew you and Alessia needed some privacy.
"Babe! I can't figure out what button to press, it's not even...will you get in here and help please!" Your girlfriends plea for help pulls you out of your daydream. "Yeah, yeah! I'm coming Less." As you stand up to go help Alessia you knock over a photo, catching it just in time.
The photo is of you and Alessia after she won the euros. You were both drunk off your heads, you had your arms wrapped around the blonde's neck with her medal around your own as you both gaze at each other with the most love suck expressions.
Ella had snapped the picture mid celebrations and you couldn't be more grateful. In fact your whole house was covered in cute little Polaroids and framed pictures of the two of you from when you were 5 to now. Taking one more look around you smile, proud of the life you and Alessia had made.
Eventually, when you and Less get married and have kids, new pictures will replace the current ones of your ever growing family but that was for the future and as excited as you were for that you could live with more of these lazy days with your favourite person in the whole world.
You decide to go help your girlfriend with the microwave, "I bet Zac Efron wouldn't help you with the microwave." You both fell back into that petty argument with small smile splayed across both your faces.
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Monster Hunting Trio grunge moodboard for Valentine's Day
(other moodboards) (request a moodoard)
[Image ID: A series of 20 photos creating a moodboard. All of the photos are de-saturated and most are dark.
Photo 1: An empty swimming pool at night.
Photo 2: Black handwriting on a light background that reads, "We're just kids. We aren't supposed to be heroes."
Photo 3: A close-up shot of several hands touching.
Photo 4: Black graffiti on a white wall that reads, "If you think this is bad, you should see what our government is up to." The words are slightly cut off.
Photo 5: White text on a black background in all caps that reads, "Don't go in the woods."
Photo 6: The backs of three figures walking in the woods. Two of the figures are taller than the one in the middle.
Photo 7: Three flashlight beams shining in different directions in a grassy field surrounded by trees at night.
Photo 8: Back handwriting on a white background that reads, "I'm nineteen and I'm on fire."
Photo 9: A profile silhouette of a femme-presenting person with should length hair standing in front of a car with the interior lights on. The hair is lit from behind like a halo. Everything but the car's interior lights are a deep blue.
Photo 10: A series of tools arranged neatly on a wooden background, including an open bear trap, a flashlight, a can of lighter fluid, a mallet, and several long nails.
Photo 11: White handwriting on a dark wooden background that reads, "Can we act like we never broke each other's hearts?"
Photo 12: Close-up of a messy stack of Polaroid pictures being picked up. The images in the Polaroids are not clear.
Photo 13: Black text on a white background that reads, "Not yet corpses. Still, we rot."
Photo 14: Two masc-presenting people and a femme-presenting person lying on top of each other. The femme-presenting person has their head on the stomach of one of the masc-presenting people and the other masc-presenting person has their head on the stomach of the femme-presenting person.
Photo 15: Two masc-presenting people kissing in front of a graffitied wall. The taller person is facing away from the camera.
Photo 16: Several trees in the woods with letters carved into their trunks. At the angle the photo is taken, the letters spell the word, "Beware," in all caps.
Photo 17: A white door with 9+ locks. The door has words scraped into the paint that reads, " The world's not safe anymore," in all caps.
Photo 18: An empty road lined with spindly trees at night. The bottom of the trees have green around the trunks and roots while the tops of the trees are completely dark. The sky is a deep blue.
Photo 19: A close-up of a newspaper headline where the only word visible reads, "Disappears."
Photo 20: A photo of a masc-presenting person and a femme-presenting person kissing. The photo is blurry. /End ID]
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his-red-right-hand · 4 months
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His Red Right Hand, Chapter 1
The cool night air hit your face as a welcome balm as you stepped outside of the crowded house, pushing the back door closed behind you to semi-successfully muffle the loud music of the party. Leaning against it for a moment, you took a couple of centering breaths and then took a few steps out into the night. You didn’t even want to be at this damn thing, but you’d already cancelled too many plans with your friends to be able to get out of this one. Hindsight being 20/20, you probably should have suffered through a bar trivia night to avoid a college party. Crappy beer, loud music, and leering guys weren’t exactly your scene. Or at least not these days. Did you even really have a scene any more?
Not that you’d exactly been hanging out with your friends that much anyway. It hadn’t taken much more than an hour for them all to eventually disappear off into conversations and groups with people who actually wanted to be there, people who actually had the desire and will to try and be interesting. Something you just didn’t seem to didn’t have in you these days, not like you used to. Plus, you were pretty sure - before you entirely lost track of her - that you’d seen Sarah doing some shots, which meant that your ride home was going to be sleeping it off on the floor somewhere before too long. Well, if you were going to be walking home, you might as well start now. Fuck,  if you made good time you might even make the last bus, which would cut the walk in half.
With a softly huffed “Fuck it,” you set off across the mostly dead grass. You could cut through the gardens around here to get to the road without having to try and wade through the sweaty throngs of the party. It sucked you didn’t have your walkman with you for some music, but at least if you got too cold you could always actually put your flannel on, rather than just having it tied around your waist. Grunge was just not really designed for Florida. And sure, there was a serial killer about, but that guy killed people in their homes, not mildly trespassing in gardens.
You were shaken from your thoughts by a bright flash of light off a little ways to your side, behind some so-called privacy bushes that were meant to keep people from peeking into the garden. Not that you were sure why anyone would want to look into the garden of a shitty college house. But - was that a camera flash? What the hell was someone taking pictures of outside a shitty party? There was something niggling in the back of your brain, telling you that this was a terrible idea, but maybe it was the cheap beer, or maybe it was some faulty instinct you didn’t quite understand - and then. as you stepped around the hedges to see what was going on, you realised you really should’ve listened to that niggle.
Gore greeted you, three bodies of boys you think you vaguely recognised as some of your hosts. The blood and the expressions of terror made it a little difficult. Entrails spilled onto the grass from one, gutted from sternum to groin, like a hunter gutting fresh game. Another’s head tilted back at an obscene angle, his throat sliced open, the delicate tubework of life laid bare. The last was just a mess of blood and flesh, like he had stabbed and stabbed and stabbed and just more and more even though you weren’t quite sure it ever counted as a body any more.
And standing in the middle of this bloody tableau, right in front of you, taking several pictures of this display that he was clearly very proud of, was Roseville’s resident serial killer.
The Ghost Face.
Click-FLASH!
Another polaroid was spat out of his camera, his gloved fingers taking it and waiting, impatiently if the tapping of the flat of his blade against his thigh was any indication, for it to develop.
The blood spray had arced artfully over the white mask he was wearing, his long robe jacket thing. This close you could see that the hood was a separate piece, was splattered with so much more. A pleased sounding chuckle emerged from the figure, the camera and polaroid was secreted back in a pocket somewhere; maybe that’s what all the straps were for? And then his head turned. And now he was looking straight at you.
You stared into those empty black eye holes and they stared back into you. It felt like an eternity of you just looking at each other, time felt like it stopped existing as you were sure these were your last moments alive.
The moment stretch and then snapped as he took a menacing step forwards, only to pause and tilt his head to the side as you continued to stand still.
There were dead bodies here. He had killed them. He was about to kill you. You should run.
Why?
Why should you run?
Wait, why should you run?
This was the most interesting thing that had ever happened to you in your entire life, and you were about to die.
As you considered your imminent demise, and your struggle to give any fucks about it, the killer marched towards you, some sort of decision made. He grabbed a fist full of your tank top and spun the two of you, pushing you towards the wall of the house. You moved with him, trying very hard not to think about the soft and squelching things under your boots. Your back hitting the wall with enough momentum to force an exhale from you; this whole time your gaze transfixed by the empty holes of the mask where his eyes should be.
He cocked his head to the side, breaking the intensity of the eye contact; and now you were very aware of three other things. One was that the blade of his knife was pressed up against your throat, biting into the skin just enough that if you moved you’d cut yourself.  If he decided to apply any more pressure you would be adding to the blood on him. Another thing was that your nose was now full of his musky cologne, feeling almost light-headed with it. Or maybe that was the adrenaline of being in the middle of getting murdered.
And the third? That would be as you had moved together, you were deliberately not thinking of how well you had both moved in sync, you had grabbed onto one of the straps running across his chest. And you were holding on to it tightly as a lifeline.
“It’s not fun if you don’t run.” His rough voice seemed to carry a note of genuine disappointment in it, releasing his hold on your tank top, apparently the knife at your throat was enough to keep you still for him.
“I’m sorry...?” You roughly swallowed to try and get some moisture into your dry mouth, mentally cursing and letting out a hiss of pain as you felt blood well up against the knife blade. Fuck that thing was sharp. “I-I won’t ask you to make it quick or painless or anything?”
The angle of the blade shifted minutely, drawing more blood, and he bent his head in towards your throat to watch it roll down your skin. He was so close to you that you could feel the warmth of him against you, acutely aware of his other arm resting against the wall next to your head, effectively caging you in place even if there wasn’t a knife at your throat. You tried to shift your hips a little against the wall to ease the sensations building there without pressing them into him: you might be suicidal, but not quite that much. This was not the time for your thing about knives to rear its ugly head. Or your thing with blood either.
“You won’t, will you?” he asked, his voice cracking strangely as he almost growled the last part. Was he using something to change his voice? He straightened back up and easing the pressure on the blade, trailing the tip down the column of your neck, across your collarbone, slipping under the thin strap of your top and applying pressure again and you could hear him let out a breath as more of your blood welled up, pooling against your skin. “You wanna die that bad? Or is it just me?”
He pressed closer to you, the tip of your nose almost touching his mask. Fuck, the rich musk of his cologne was never going to leave you if you lived past this night. His thigh shoved itself between yours, every last shred of control you had went into not clenching onto it. As you let out a whimper, he pressed the knife deeper into your flesh, and you closed your eyes, overwhelmed as all your other senses were so full of him.
“Look at me,” he snarled suddenly and you snapped your eyes back open, earning yourself a chuckle and a purred “Good girl.”
Oh. Fuck.
“Oh man, you want it bad... You're practically aching for it.” 
You almost wanted to cry as he pulled back from you, just enough for the tip of his knife run slowly down your chest, over your top, tracing its way between your breasts to rest over your heart.
“Ask me nicely.”
A frantic swallow as you tried to remember how to talk. 
“Puh-Please.”
“Please what?” His thigh pressed up harder between your legs and you lost your battle not to clench against him.
“Please kill me.” He let out a harsh breath, whatever electronics altering his voice giving it a harsh crackle.
“Say my name,” he growled, the knife dropping down to his side so he could press so close to you now, chest pressed against chest; and all you could do was stare back into the eye holes of his mask.
“Please Mister Ghost Face. Kill me.” You surprised yourself by not having your voice shake. And by meaning every single word. “Fucking do it. Please.”
“You asked me so nicely...” A hand pressed tightly over your mouth to muffle your cries, eyes going wide with the sudden pain of his knife sliding into your side. He let out an approving noise as tears started to spill from you, the thigh between your legs now most of what was keeping you upright. “But that’s going to have to be a no from me.” 
Wait, what? Your brow furrowed in confusion as he pulled his hand off your mouth, taking a moment to gently caress your cheek before taking your hand that was still death gripped onto one of his chest straps and pressing it onto your stab wound. 
“There we go, pressure on that darling...” He slid the knife back out, another electric crackle over a growl as you cried in pain, your hand firmly pressed against it to staunch the bleeding.
Your legs crumpled under you as that solid thigh finally withdrew, leaving you a whimpering mess on the ground. He bent over to check that your hand was positioned properly, taking your other one to add pressure. Everything was growing hazy. You could feel the life draining out of you despite his efforts. A bright flash made you squint, the mechanical noise of a polaroid being spat out enough to get you to tilt your head up just enough to look at the mask again.
“One for the scrapbook.” He let out a dark chuckle, shaking the picture. “We are going to have a lot of fun babe. And if you’re real good, I might just gut you.”
He might have said more, but that was the point where the darkness decided to take you.
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Yijun Bai
Author's Note: this is 1 of 3 mcs, I'll link the others when they're posted.
Credits: This is a mc for the interactive fiction game-thingy Infamous. Find it here @infamous-if
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Preferred Name: Yijun Bai
Alias: Juniper
Gender + Pronouns: man + he/him ("I know I look feminine, you don't need to tell me")
Singing/Voice Claim, if any: Cowboy Malfoy for his singing voice and his speaking voice lol
Age: 26
More About Him: Yijun Bai and Juniper are like two completely different people. Juniper is Yijun's stage name/act, as such he acts very different. The change is so stark it's often jarring to strangers, acquaintances and even friends.
Juniper is portrayed as a flirty drunken fool. He acts drunk or tipsy even when it's been days since his last drink. He flirts with everyone; fans, interviewers, other bands(👀). He often seems clueless as to what happens around him and acts overly laid back. Contrasting Yijun's usual punk-grunge clothing Juniper wears loose, flowy shirts and pants in various shades of wine red, purple and black. He has a sense of careless laziness that clouds everything he does.
Yijun himself is serious and has a no-nonsense attitude. He seems to despise the stage act he's made, but can't seem to shake it no matter how hard he tries. He has a 'devil make care' attitude and does mostly whatever he wants. He's loyal to a fault, and once you make it into his inner circle it's hard for him to hate you. Yijun is willing to do anything for his friends. He tends to be very calculated and aggressively blunt.
Two things that don't change between 'personas' is his general non-conformity and his love of nature. He strives to stand out in as many ways as possible; the blatant promiscuity and generally flowy-ness of his stage act and his normally aggressively in-your-face view points about the world are the first examples that come to mind. And his love of nature. He does everything he can to lessen his effect on his environment and cares a great deal about the wilderness. He hikes when he has the time and is known to go camping regularly. He's stated that sometime after he retires he wants to live in a cabin in the woods, away from people and engrossed with the forest around him.
Fun Facts:
His Pinterest here.
His(and the others because I'm ✨uncreative✨) band is called The Cult of Dionysus, specifically so he can call his fans Dionysians since he thought that was cool as fuck. Does NOT promote any of the shenanigans that actually went on and is willing to publicly denounce someone if they try something. ("Guys, don't try to replicate anything the actual fucking cult did. For the love of fuck, do not. That's a warning.")
He's fairly superstitious, thanks to his family also being superstitious.
He has a routine he tries to follow closely and if it gets messed up somehow it ruins the rest of his day.
He tends to suppress his emotions and gets frustrated when he does end up feeling them. This also makes him kind of oblivious to some things and a little insensitive, but he's quick to apologize. He's emotionally constipated, please bare with him. ("I'm sorry I said something hurtful to you, I didn't mean to hurt you like that. I don't have a excuse, but I truly am sorry.")
He wants to be covered in tattoos and is getting there slowly but surely. If you ask about them, he'll explain why he got them and what they mean.
Yijun is not close to his family; they're very traditional and conservative people while he's the exact opposite. ("My family? You don't need to know about them")
He likes photography and specifically favors those polaroid cameras. He'd like to have a photo wall, but hasn't settled in a place long enough to build one up.
Yijun doesn't like interacting with his fans, not because he doesn't like them but because he's scared he'd say something wrong and hurt or offend them. Will happily give hugs and pose for pictures if asked.
While Lani wants a PO Box, I feel Yijun would actually have a PO Box and treasure each and every little thing sent to him. You could send him a rock and he'd be 🥺🥺🥰🥰🥰
You know the way parents embarrass their kids by constantly bragging about them? Yijun does that with his fans lol
He's a fucking tsundere lol would absolutely accidentally say some variation of 'it's not like I like you or anything!' lmao
Yijun is one of my regular ocs and has his own story. His 'pre-made' backstory is that he met Lani when he was like 8. In high school he met Storm, and shortly after started a band. In said band he's the lead singer and drummer, among other things.
"I'll stick with you from now on, so you better not fuck this up."
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beemers-hell · 1 year
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All right we all know that Hank has an inexplicable love of blenders, but what about Bank? Does she have any weird stims or special interests?
oh ABSOLUTELY lmao
The big thing is that she's just a useless information machine. She'll soak up any random trivia about anything and it'll stay stuck in her brain for her to just ramble about if she gets an opportunity to talk about it. Hank can't count the amount of times where he's said a single thing about a subject and Bank has chimed in with some random ass piece of information that he's never heard before.
When it comes to weird SIs specifically, she's got a couple:
She is obsessed with liminal spaces. And being that Nevada is the way it is, im CERTAIN itd be liminal space central. She has a little Polaroid she carries around specially so she can snap photos of places she deems liminal, and will ask her Tíos to snap photos for her if they get an opportunity. There's a wall in her closet covered in these pictures.
No one knows exactly why she got so interested in it, but she's extremely fascinated by nuclear disasters/other man-made science/factory adjacent disasters. If Chernobyl exists in Madness, she could go on for hours talking about it and all the crazy shit nuclear radiation/radiation poisoning does or how weird Corium is, etc etc
She loves studying the culture n aesthetics of late 80s/90s/early 2000s shit. Really into the stuff that vapor/synthwave focus in on as well as grunge/underground/punk/alt sub cultures are all about. Fuckin constantly begs 2b to tell her about his days as a hardcore anarchist punk from his youth lmao
Weird stims? Shes got plenty!
She rocks back and forth frequently, she'll chew on her knuckles, she clicks her fingers and tongue, recites phrases or words to herself, talks to herself a lot, spins her pistol around a lot, taps parts of her skin in specific rhythms...you know how It goes lmao
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jaydenchip404 · 1 month
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Big Rant
I really need to trauma dump right now. So, serious stuff ahead.
Just so you know, I'm not suicidal right now. I've been clean from self-harm for 5 years now!
(my phone wallpaper for reference (higher quality re-creation of another wallpaper))
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I don't know what's wrong with me right now. I WANT to be asexual. I WANT to not be attracted to anyone. For being on the a-spec, I don't understand asexuality. I made a post a while ago saying that I might be aceflux because sometimes I don't feel aroused in situations when I should be. But @Rainyve said that many people believe asexuals always have a low libido, which is false, and try to invalidate high libido asexuals, as they are two different things.”. So I just assume being asexual means not desiring sexual encounters/activities, whether they do or don't have a libido. I don't know at all. I have a normal to high libido, but I don’t want to have sex with anyone. It’s just so confusing.
Obsessing over my LGBTQIA+ labels—it's like this desperate attempt to divert myself from how utterly, painfully suicidal I feel. If I can convince myself I'm unique, maybe there's a reason to stick around. But then I'm left wondering if I'm genuinely queer or if I'm just masking, just trying to force myself into a mold to make life seem less empty, less pointless.
But, like, reading about all the different types of attractions makes me question everything. I get them mixed up because I find them hard to understand. Like isn’t sensual attraction just romantic attraction?
I want to go unlabeled and just exist as an entity that does or doesn’t feel things (bisexual and aromantic), but my OCD is forcing me to find that ONE label, that ONE term that encompasses me as a person. It’s just SOOOO much all at once. My anxiety about this is eating me. But not as bad as school and work have been eating me recently, but that’s another story. It's suffocating, it's exhausting, and I don't know how much longer I can keep it together.
I can’t talk to anyone about this either. Not my family, and I don’t have IRL friends. And people online can’t do much but act as a therapist for my trauma dumping. I feel bad for them.
I’m playing it fast and loose having my phone wallpaper having the bisexual flag colors. And whenever someone sees it they just get really quiet, but never say anything.
I’m so utterly alone in all this. I don’t know what to do… I guess living in my head and dating my fictional OCs or other characters is the best thing for me to do right now. Just fantasizing about my OTP dating.
I both do and don’t want to get my life together. I want to be me, but I don’t know how to accomplish my end goal.
I want to lose a ton of weight, dye my hair bright teal, clear up my acne, wear cute clothes (either E-girl or grunge), learn how to do makeup, and do testosterone but only to the point that it makes me look androgynous (mainly my voice), embrace being a butch, move into a cute little house that I can make look cottagecore (with fairy lights and polaroid pictures), get a girlfriend or boyfriend or joyfriend (or all at the same time!), make a ton of friends, get diagnosed with the proper mental disorders, get proper treatment for my mental disorders, be happy, visit my family very little, write books, become a (best selling) fantasy author, go to college, become a nurse, get married, have 3 children MAX, die old and happy.
I’m aegoromantic, aegosexual, agender, aplatonic, asocial, aurorian, biromantic, bisexual, cisgender, demiboy, demigirl, demisensual, expressionfluid, fictoromantic, genderfluid, genderless, gendervoid, greyromantic, ideaesthetic, idemromantic, lunoric, mascpotius, monoflexible, neutral, non-binary, panpronominal, panto-, perifluid, pronounfluid, tomboy, transmasculine.
This feels like it’s TOO many labels. But I’m unsure how to narrow this down without causing me dysphoria.
I haven't had a crush since 5th grade so I don't know how to deal with romance.
To put that into perspective, I'm 17, and 5th grade is around 10 to 11 years old. I haven't had a crush since I was around 11 years old, since I was held a year back, so I haven't had a crush in 6 years.
I still get 'crushes' (mainly on fictional characters (mainly girls)) but I don't ever want to be in relationships of any type with anyone.
I don't know. I want to be different but in the same way as everyone else.
My mom and I were chatting about my upcoming birthday, and I just can't stand it. In a feeble attempt to lighten the mood, I joked about needing to start paying rent soon. And ya know what she said? She dropped this bomb on me, like it was nothing. 'You'll have to start footing the bill for your own food, clothes, and gas once you're driving.' It hit me like a ton of bricks.
I don't want any of this. I don't want to grow up, to shoulder all these responsibilities. The mere thought of it sends me spiraling into despair. It's suffocating, this weight pressing down on me, crushing any semblance of hope or joy I ever had. I feel like I'm drowning, utterly alone in this vast ocean of adulthood.
And what's worse, I'm expected to fend for myself on a measly $200 a week. It's laughable, really. How am I supposed to survive on that? It's a cruel joke, a slap in the face from life itself. So, the total cost for just 1 week could range from approximately $330 to $420, depending on my specific circumstances and choices with my money.
Right now, I'm drowning in this overwhelming sense of hopelessness. I can't see a way out, can't find a glimmer of light in this suffocating darkness. It's like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff, and the only way out seems to be to just let go and fall.
For my 18th birthday, my mom suddenly decides to remember the promises she made way back when I turned 10. Talk about dragging her feet! She acts like she's doing me some huge favor by finally following through now that I’m an adult.
She's all like, 'Oh, you can shave the side of your head.' Like, seriously? I've been waiting for ages for her to come around on this, and now she acts like it's some big revelation now that I'll be an adult. I guess I'll just go with the side shave since it's not like it's permanent or anything. And then there's the whole 'getting my ears double pierced' thing. Again, something she promised years ago and conveniently forgot about until now.
Oh, and let's not forget the new phone and phone case she's throwing in as if that somehow makes up for all the years of broken promises. Yeah, thanks, Mom, but a little consistency would've been nice.
I made the mistake of showing my mom some stuff on my Pinterest—ya know, cute haircuts, outfits, things I've been dreaming about since I was a kid. But then, horror of horrors, she accidentally stumbled upon my other boards when attempting to switch apps. The ones that scream LGBTQIA+ loud and clear, with a literal board titled 'My Type' featuring pretty girls and boys I find attractive.
I felt my heart drop to the floor. Panic set in like a tidal wave. What if she saw? What if she realized? The fear was paralyzing.
To make matters worse, she kept jumping out of Pinterest to Amazon on my phone’s web browser. And then it happened. She caught a glimpse of my phone background—a vibrant, unmistakably bisexual 90s pattern that I created during slow periods at work. I held my breath, waiting for her reaction, but she didn't say a word. Didn't even look at me.
I don't think it registered with her. Thank God for small mercies. But the fear, the sheer terror of being exposed, was suffocating.
I'm really struggling right now. The weight of it all feels unbearable. I can't shake this overwhelming sense of depression. The thought of stepping into adulthood terrifies me to my core.
I mean, look at me. I won't even graduate high school until I'm 19, or maybe even 20 if I can't pull through this trimester. It's like I'm stuck in this perpetual limbo, watching everyone else move forward while I'm trapped in place, suffocating under the pressure to grow up.
And what awaits me? A life of endless toil, paycheck to paycheck, with no room for happiness, no room for fun, no room for friendships or meaningful connections. Just the daily grind, from 9 to 5, until I'm too exhausted to even think.
And don't even get me started on college. The cost is astronomical, a barrier so high it might as well be insurmountable. How am I supposed to afford $3,000 for community college, let alone $50,000 for a private institution? It's a cruel joke, a slap in the face to anyone who dares to dream of a better future.
I'm beginning to see why kids as young as 13 are scrambling to get jobs. In a world where money reigns supreme, where success is measured in dollars and cents, it's like we're set up to fail from the start. If you're not born into wealth or stumble into fame, you might as well kiss any hopes of a bright future goodbye.
I'm drowning in hopelessness here. There's no light at the end of the tunnel, no glimmer of hope to cling to. It's like I'm trapped in a never-ending nightmare, with no way out.
I care more about my sexuality than I do my gender. I know I'm genderfluid between man, woman, agender/genderless/gendervoid, non-binary, and pangender, end of story. My sexuality is just confusing, like I like all genders, but only boys and girls (NOT male and female)???? It's like I'm bisexual and pansexual at the same time. I mainly just go with bisexual since it means 2+, and I'm fine with that. But my romantic/other orientation is what makes me mad, I can't for the life of me figure out what it is. I like greyromanitc, but it's just a loose, fits all, term. I both do and don't experience romantic attraction. It's just so confusing and making me mad that I can't find the perfect label and stuff.
My identity crisis, school, work, growing up, my mom, my personal life, it’s all so suffocating.
I DO NOT want to be real. I want to be in my own fan fiction. My perfect fantasy world. I want to be a witch so bad and wield magic. I would do anything to not live in reality.
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devilbrakers · 8 months
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let's see - have some questions about eden! what are her self-described life essentials? how does she store/display memories? and finally, how would you describe her aesthetic?
thank youuuuu i love talking abt her sm jfdklsfj <3
in depth character questions
what are her self-described life essentials?
She would tell you her life essentials are her favorite spear kept in guitar case she carries around, holy water, her bag that contains some sort of energy drink that's awful for you, some chicken nuggets she got from nearby fast food chain, her old mp3 player, earbuds, and gum.
how does she store/display memories?
Her memory's a bit shoddy especially with how many things she's just kinda repressed throughout her life. But she is sentimental and keeps everything everyone gifts her which is a good way to remember people that may no longer be in her life. She also likes to take pictures with the gang sometimes and has a few polaroids laying around of all of them together.
how would you describe her aesthetic?
I'm going to say tentatively say it's grunge-y. She usually wears older, often thrifted clothing and lots of layers and her trademark black leather trench coat. She doesn't exclusively dress that way though. But she does mainly listen to the music and music from that era. It's just kind of way she feels she belongs because a big part of the subculture was accepting differences, or was supposed to be anyway.
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marbledmoonthreads · 1 year
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This week's Aesthetic Spotlight: Grunge
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Grunge historically has its roots in the 1990s hard rock scene of Seattle, Washington. It was a countercultural, anti-consumerism youth movement and musical genre that defined Generation X. Grunge fashion was made popular by bands like Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Alice in Chains, and Soundgarden, and was meant to be timeless and quite casual.
Grunge is a darker, edgier style that is usually depicted these days with glitches, vinyl records, cigarettes, neon lights, and the color black (which has absolutely nothing to do with the original grunge).
Music
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Grunge started in 1985 with Green River's album Come on Down, but it did not become mainstream until the 1990s with Nirvana's Nevermind. Grunge was most popular from roughly 1991 to 1997 and eventually lost its anti-consumerist philosophy. It can be argued that grunge began to decline in 1994, after the tragic suicide of Nirvana frontman Kurt Cobain, though the genre maintained popularity until about 1997 when Soundgarden broke up.
Some of our favorite bands include Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Alice in Chains, Soundgarden, Stone, Temple Pilots, The Gits, Varuca Salt, & The Pixies. A majority of Grunge's visuals involve a large amount of dirty, grimy, weathered imagery.
These show a sort of hopelessness and disenchantment with modern society.
Visuals
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A lot of earth tones and pale colors are used to convey this sort of cultural depression often associated with Grunge.
You will often see the use of polaroid cameras and pictures, glitches, vinyl records, cigarettes, neon lights, and the color black.
Fashion
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Grunge fashion of the late 1980s and early-mid 1990s was often purchased out of thrift stores at the time. Some will argue it was done out of a rejection of the fashions of the time. It's generally agreed that it's because it was cheaper as, at the time, most grunge artists were dirt poor. But with the modern Grunge movement, the philosophical elements of the original Grunge movement were completely dropped in favor of just achieving the visual aesthetic of looking Grunge (although often paying far more exorbitant amounts of money compared to the original Grunge style icons, who almost exclusively shopped at Thrift Stores). Men often wore oversized t-shirts, flannel shirts (that would be tied off around the waist when it got too hot), ripped jeans, and combat boots. These were considered timeless looks and were generally durable and reliable clothing to wear.
Women tended to favor slip dresses, flannel shirts, ripped jeans, chokers, and the bell-bottoms/babydoll t-shirt was a popular combination as well.
Why we love Grunge
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Growing up in the 90s, we were lucky enough to have parents with a broad taste in music, fashion & art. So it's fair to say Grunge had an influence on our household.😉 Music, fashion, and shopping at thrift stores are the most significant contributors. 🎸 Music is a given. Music was always playing in our house growing up. If we weren't rocking out at home, we listened to road-trip jams and would go to concerts and festivals. When it comes to our personal style, bellbottoms, flares, and wide-legged and distressed jeans are some of our favorite bottoms to wear.👖 We own a small collection of band T-shirts(yes we actually listen to the bands we wear). Our favorite shoes to wear are high-top canvas sneakers, and you will rarely see us without a choker. As much as I love new and trendy things, you can find some really amazing things at thrift stores. And it's not just about fashion, it's the whole experience of exploring! Sure there is a lot of old junk in good condition, but then you find it. That amazingly awesome thing. And you know the instant you lay eyes on it, that you have to have it. That thing may be clothes or jewelry. Or it could be a piece of furniture, or maybe a book. And then there are times when you don't find anything. But that's the fun of shopping at thrift stores. You may have an idea of what you are looking for going in, but that may not end up being what you find.🛍️
Did you know you can shop by aesthetics at our store?
When you visit our store you'll notice that our collections are categorized by aesthetics. So you can easily shop by whatever aesthetics you vibe with.
Check out our current Aesthetic Collections!
Bohemian Aesthetics
Grunge Aesthetics
Spacecore Aesthetics
Stoner Aesthetics
Spooky Aesthetics
Witchcore Aesthetics
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nikfiendluvr666 · 1 year
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15/1/23
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Me n Lu <33
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