#most of my friends have some level of body dysmorphia

[tarotmantic]

through a combination of severe depression, autism, an intense desire to never be perceived, gender fuckery, and aroaceness, I completely swerved the performative femininity/body dysmorphia thing and i still don't have a skincare routine

[equallyshaw]

through thick and thin, always | mat barzal

not too sure if i wanna do gif's or pictures like that above..trying something new out (:

warnings: mental health struggles and ed talk.

word count: 2.9k+

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trigger warning: relapse in an eating disorder, but not to graphic! talks of therapy and past shame/guilt.

della's mental health struggles had been brewing for some time, long before she ever met mat. when she met mat, her mental health improved along with her self-esteem just by the sheer fact that she was dating somebody. however, this year's fall rolled around it seemed as if everyone, every situation, and herself were against her. with having the luxury of working from home 5 days a week, she was alone a lot and in turn, had oh so much time for her thoughts to feast on her self esteem. for the first time in almost 6 years she'd had the urge to restrict. she kept reminding herself that her habit got her nowhere all those years ago, but she had that hopeful optimism that it would be different this time. a few days before christmas, sydney was hosting a holiday party for the last game before christmas and she noticed something very off with her good friend. her friend drowned herself in the alcohol that was provided and not much of the food that sat out. della felt very uncomfortable, she felt like none of her clothes fit right over her bones and curves, she felt like the odd man out seeing everybody wearing the clothes she desperately wished she could, though knew she might never be able to. she thought about how mat looked at her, and what he thought of her physically. she felt like she wasn't good enough for him, even after almost three years together.

sydney watched as the girl sipped on her wine whilst looking out at the backyard as snow fell, and felt her heart fall. she made her way over, and wrapped an a soft arm around the girl's back. "you good, dells?" sydney asked and della nodded. "ofcourse, why wouldn't i be?" she mused putting on a fake smile. "well..you've barely watched the game and i just wanted to make sure you were good. that's all." sydney said and della nodded. "yeah! sorry, been busy with work and just trying to clear my head a bit." della said, the perfect smile enchanting her pale skin. sydney nodded, "well lets go to the kitchen, the girls are snacking away right now." and della frowned. "i-i think im heading out now. i have a deadline tomorrow and i wanna make sure i have it done on time." della said as the two walked towards the kitchen. "oh, okay. no worries, please let me know when you get home." sydney said pulling her into a hug. one that della needed desperately after a 2 week road trip. "ofcourse, syd." della hummed before putting on her coat and walking outside. della quickly made her way to the car, feeling her headache grow as the alcohol was continuously hitting her empty stomach. she sighed, as she got into the car and chewed on her lip. she looked at her lap, and felt the tears finally poured over onto her cheeks. she made her way back to her townhouse a few neighborhoods over and sat in the garage that seemed like an hour.

her mind and thoughts were racing with what she did that evening, how much she drank, and spoke, how many excuses she made and white lies that were said. she thought about how sydney had looked at her, with pity? remorse? concern? della did not have much more time to think before her phone began to ring. mat's name popped up and she let it go to voicemail, most likely wondering where she was. she had said she'd be at syd's for the evening and some of the guys were stopping by there afterward.

for the first time in years, she truly hated herself. hated how she looked to herself and to others. her body dysmorphia crippling her once more. she got out of the car, and headed inside and was greeted by her corgi, 'poppy' and quickly kneeled down to be on her level. she curled up into a ball with poppy and sobbed. realizing how bad it was getting again, and it made her guilty because of how much progress she'd made. "why poppy? why does it always have to come back at the worst times?" della mumbled, as poppy laid on her chest now. her phone began to ring again and a few texts came in, but della did not budge to look. she got up, ripping her coat off feeling suffocated. she threw it on the ground towards the garage door and headed towards the kitchen to grab more alcohol. as she was pouring herself some more wine, she heard a knock on her door. she sighed, walking over towards the front door saw her neighbor and now good friend lea. "saw you pull in, hun. brought some goodies over." and once della saw the dark chocolate peppermint bark, she knew she was a goner. "come on in." della hummed, and poppy quickly greeted the redhead. "whats the most expensive wine you own, doing out?" lea questioned as she walked into the kitchen and della nodded. "cuz the world hates me as much as i hate myself." she murmured and lea frowned. "is it bad again?" she questioned her friend and della nodded, looking down as her lip quivered. "have you told mat?" lea questioned softly and della shook her had. lea quickly wrapped her arms around her friend, allowing her to cry. "if i-i tell him, he'll break up with me. nobody wants to date somebody that is sick. that's so mentally fucked u-up." della sobbed and lea shook her head. "della, that man loves you. just absolutely adores you babe. you dont need to tell him tonight but please at some point.." lea trailed off and della knew she had to. "i just need to prepare myself for the chance he does though, i have too." della said pulling back just a bit and lea nodded softly. "ofcourse babes." and della eyed the bark. but instead, grabbed the wine bottle and glass and headed towards her bedroom with lea following with another glass and poppy.

_

it was the next morning, and della had the absolute worst hungover she'd had in a long while. with no food in her system, her stomach was also in shambles. lea was sound asleep on mat's side of the bed with poppy sleeping at their feet. the wine bottle sat empty next to della's side with a half bottle of tequila wiped clean. della rubbed her temples before feeling her stomach begin to churn. she quickly headed over towards the ensemble washroom and chucked the liquid coming up. she heaved for a few seconds before laying down face first on the cool tile. she growled as her phone begin to ring once more, and as it finished it began to ring once more. "fucking mat, leave us alone." lea said as she woke up, declining the call.

mat grew nervous and a bit frustrated with the call going to voicemail once more, he'd been trying all night and now morning with no luck. sydney had said she left in a hurry to finish up some work and made it seem like she wanted to be alone. mat wouldn't bother her unless she said something to him, not wanting to get in the way of her rapid deadlines. he made his way out of his condo and drove to get some coffee and a breakfast sandwich for the girl before heading over to her place. if she wasn't going to pick up, he'd be going to her.

della walked downstairs with lea, carrying the glasses and alcohol bottles down with them. the bark lay uneaten on the counter, and della had the urge to grab the tin and stuff her mouth with as much as she could. she was fighting the urge to completely binge till her heart could content, and lea noticed. "ill keep this nice and cozy until you say something. ok?" lea said taking the tin and della sighed in content. "thanks." she mumbled, leaning over to feed poppy. "ill call you later, im gonna shower and see how far i last before i need to nap." della said hugging the redhead who nodded. "okay, let me know if you need anything. i mean it, you send the word and ill come running." she hummed and della giggled. "thanks lea." she said walking her to the front door, and as lea opened it she stopped frozen seeing the 6 foot hockey player at the door, his set of keys in his mouth as he tried to open the door. "morning barzal." lea said stepping across the threshold and past the tall dude. della did not say anything but open the door wider for him to enter. he stepped inside the warm house, pressing a kiss to her temple. and in doing so, noticed her under eye circles, her face looking gaunt and her eyes red and puffy. his eyebrows crinkled, as he set down the coffees and sandwiches on the table next to the door, concern flooding his entire body.

"della rae-" he said placing his hands softly on her pale cheeks, inspecting her from top to bottom. she'd lost weight, a good amount since the last time they had spent a substantial amount of time together; which was now almost a month ago. she shut her eyes not wanting to meet his questionable eye and worrying face. it was beginning to click for mat, and in the instant he realized, he pulled her in for a bone-crushing hug. fearing that if he let go, he'd lose her even more. she felt loose tears fall down her cheeks onto his shirt, and she let out a soft whimper. that only made him pull her in tighter. things were now clicking for him, why she was barely responding to his sister's text, why she was also not responding to his texts and phone calls like she once had. and finally, the suspicions that sydney had the previous evening, were correct. "im sorry matty." she whispered against his chest, and he pulled back just a bit to look at her. he shook his head as she looked up with fear written across her face. "im sorry im a mess...and that im sick. im so sorry." she said clenching her eyes shut whilst sniffling, with mat wiping her tears away. "never apologize della, don't apologize for this. it isn't your fault- at all. i promise you that." he said as she reopened her eyes. as guilt and hunger washed over her once more, she looked to the side and saw the coffees and then looked back at mat, "can i take those?" she mumbled and he nodded softly. "you don't ever have to ask, hun." he said as she stepped out of his arms and around him. she took the coffee and sandwich, holding them close to her chest and headed into the small living room that had a small library, fireplace, and a plush couch. mat followed suit with his and followed her into the room, sitting down next to her. but leaving just a bit of room between the two.

she stared at the sandwich bag, as she held the coffee straw near her lips wanting to fight the urge but knew she needed to eat. "i need help mat.." she said defeatedly as she stared at the bag. mat looked over with a worried look and demeanor, and took notice of the staredown she had with her coffee. he set his coffee down, and took her's as well, and placed it on the coffee table in front of them. he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his chest. she took in the familiar warmth that he had. "im sorry I've been distant recently...i just have been so consumed with it all and because of it i've been exhausted." she said softly and mat kissed the top of her head. "i noticed something was off..when we went to thanksgiving with your family. i sensed something was off because every time i tried...tried looking at you you would look away or at the ground. it hurt me. it made me feel like you were embarrassed or guilty of something and i-i should have noticed it. and im sorry, i didn't." he said biting the inside of his cheek, trying to not cry. della's heart broke hearing how much it hurt him that she was very distant at thanksgiving. she was hoping he wouldn't notice and chalk it up to the many conversations she had found herself engrossed in.

"i love you della rae... nothing is going to change that. no matter how complicated this may get." he said feeling her tense up somewhat at his confession. she nodded into his chest, feeling him tighten his arms around her.

_

christmas, new years and valentines had rolled around with anxiety and apprehension as della progressed through therapy. after christmas, mat took the week leading up to new years off to be there for della as well as all star break + by week. della was grateful to have him in the house as she returned to work and basked in his presence before he headed back on the road. when he left, sydney and some of the other girls took turns coming over and bringing her out whenever she could. she accredited a lot to those girls, and added them to her list of why she should strive for recovery.

it was now playoffs time, and for the first time in a long while she was excited to head to a home game. when sydney had let the girls know that the jackets were being ordered, she jumped at the opportunity to get one. mat's heart was all fuzzy and warm when she showed him it right before they headed out. she did a little twirl for him and a few poses, before they shared a kiss. "oh!" he said remembering to grab what he'd been saving for some time, and as della headed out to start the car; mat ran to go get it.

the two made their way down to the arena and as she was about to drop mat at the players entrance, he paused and pulled out a letter of sorts for della. "i uh..I've been keeping this for a while not sure when to give it and whatnot, but seeing you tonight and how excited you were to put on the jacket which i know is something that you've been insecure about in the past.." he trailed off pausing to place the letter in her hands. "im so incredibly proud of how far you've come in these short few months, and i just wanted to write something down. i wasn't even going to give it to you but tonight, i just have this feeling of immense pride della rae. but uh..yeah ill see you later. ok?" he said placing a peck on her cheek. she smiled, watching him open the door and hop out. "good luck hun." she smiled widely and as mat looked at her once more, he saw the genuine smile he'd missed dearly. he nodded before shutting the door and heading towards the entrance. she pulled off into the family and friends parking lot and stared down at the letter. her heart swelled, just thinking about what the contents of the letter were.

she pulled it open softly and carefully, as to not rip the letter. she smiled softly at the handwritten note and read it slowly. words of encouragement, words of pride, and love. words of sadness and words of commitment. she sniffled as she finished it, completely taken back by it. she knew mat had felt all of these things, but seeing it in writing made her heart swell. he loved her deeply and without hesitation. she got out of the car and headed towards the private entrance and once sydney saw her walk through the box's entrance, she jumped up and down. della smiled as the others all made their way over to greet her. "picture time!" one of the girls cheered and sydney pulled her friend with her towards a spot in the back. "lookin good sista." she hummed and della smiled widely. pictures were taken, food was consumed along with alcohol and the up's and down's of playoff hockey was experienced that evening.

as soon as she saw mat walking into the box, she smiled widely before he kissed her quickly. "great game, matty." she said looking up at him and he smiled widely. a hard effort was fought, with a win now accredited towards the islanders. "lets head home." he said and the two walked hand in hand towards the car. mat opened the passenger door for her, and she thanked him before he shut the door.

she saw the letter sticking out of her purse, and she turned towards at who buckled. "thankyou for the letter mat, you have now idea how much i appreciate it." she said leaning over the console, and he met her in the middle. "through thick and thin always, my love will never falter for you della rae." he spoke softly before kissing the girl passionately. she melted into the kiss, before pulling away. "lets get home, we've got a lot to celebrate." she hummed running a soft thumb over his cheek.

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no tags just because its a sensitive topic!

[alec-1016]

hi, this is a sleep-drunk vent session. pls feel free to ignore

cw: childhood.(idk, its not trauma, but it wasnt pleasant), internalized ableism, internalized transphobia, internalized misogyny, depression, anxiety, mentions of ed, sh and su1cide

also spelling errors

so, i just wanna vent abt liking shit. i grew up in a very privileged house, w both my parents being uni professors, so it was a very...intellectual house

i also grew up autistic. i was very often praised for being "good", quiet, smart, speaking in words too advanced for my age, reading and writing abovd my grade level, etc. so it kinda became "obvious" that i would become intellectually inclined, like my parents and older sisters

oh yeah, there is an eleven year age gap between me and my older sister, and a fourteen year gap begween me and my oldest sister. i grew up with adults.

there were barely any chdren for me to play w outside of school, so i decided i was better off alone. i read, drew, madr up complex imaginary scenarios in my head. i also tried to listen in and even participate in the adults discussions, and that also got me praise. i have always been a people pleaser.

so after i grew a bit, by like, middle school, i thiught i couldnt like kids things anymore. but i ciuldnt like teen things either bc i wasnt old enough for that. so i didnt really like stuff. i hid my special interests(harry p*tter🤢🤢 and riordanverse, mostly) from basically everyone, and threw myself into school

i have had anxiety ever since i can remember, and some symptoms of depression presented as early as 11. i have a cousin that is also deeply depressed, and that has been throigh roigher patchrs than i have. i always saw her as kinda my reslomsability, bc i was "well" and she wasnt. well, bc of all that, she loved to make fum of me. her parents used to unintentionally put us against each other and compare us, bc i wad the golden child and she was FUCKING DEPRESSED AND DIDNT LIKE SCHOOL BC PPL KEPT BULLYING HER AND COMPARING HER TO ME.

she made fun of everything i liked, and sometimes i even discovered that she liked the stuff too, she just wanted to seem batter than me in something. which i got at the time, and still get, but it fucking hurt and it made me fearful of ever liking things, in fear of being made fun of

which takes me to another place: school. i was made fun of for basically everything, and i just recently realized i was bullied for my autistic traits: not getting jokes and sarcasm, speaking differently, being too nerdy, too shy, too stupid, too slow, too much. i was always too much and never enough at the same time, never enough for ppm to like me

dont get me wrong i had friends. some amazing ppl that i still hold dear, some not so much. but it was hard knowing most of my class didnt care for me.

i also went through a "not like other girls" phase, where i thought if i liked boybands, tvshows, celebrities, gossip, etc, i was the most vain and uninteresting human being to ever exist, and no one would like me. so i forced myself to walk away. i didnt have a boyband phase or a tv show i binged untill i was 14/15, bc i didnt let myself get invested. i thought only "interesting, non basic" " girls" got to live their romances that i always dreamed of.

i got really hooked on shadowhunters through 2019 and 2020, even attended an online con that i almost didnt tell my mom abaout because i was so ashamed and scardd of being seen as...a kid, that i was(am). i didnt want to be immature enough to invest myself on celebrity gossip and tv shows. i was supposed to study, maybe read some ya books, but mostly classics.

throught he pandemic i got hit with some of my worst depressive episodes, suicidal thoughts, body dysmorphia, disordered eating, anxiety and gender dyphoria. and guilt for feeling all of those while being in a very orivileged situation.

so i turned inwards, like i always did, eps when things got difficult. i read and re-read so many books, binge watched tv shows, barely talked to anyone outside of class. i started letting myself like things, but still felt guilty at every turn, which fueled all of my worst instincts

i still feel guilty for liking "stupid" things. for liking tv shows and thirsting over characters and rereading books and following popular creators. i dont wanna lose the label of "smart" that i always thought was my best quality.

i still try no to show i like things, recently ive been hyperfixated on titans, esp. brenton thwaites and dick grayson bc i am a massive bisexual w a massive crush. and i wanna fo something that i always try to do when i like/obsess with an actor: watch as much of their fulms as i can. even if they are bad. even if they had the budged of 5 dollars plus a camera. i dont care. but i feel so fucking stupid for not caring bc it shouldnt be some pretty face that draws me to a film

it should be the photography(which i absolutely love, btw) or the theme, or the director or whatever it is film buffs use to pick movies. this is where the internalized transphobia and misogyny come in at full force: society doesnt let teenage girls get away with liking anything w/o being made fun of. they are called obsessed, crazy, stalkers, vain, stupid, dumb,etc. and i feel like i am. that is the worst.its as if i agree w all those horrivle things ppl say abt girls and liking things, and it makes me dysphoric. it is so weird how this abstract conceot of being seen as a vain stuoid teen girl can make me feel bad abt my identity.

(btw girls who like stuff. yall are the backbone of yhis site, you are smart, creative, funny, and i lovs you with all my heart)

i also realized i dont know how to a man in fandom.how to be a fanboy and not a fangirl. is it any different? do i have to be more closed off? do i have to speak less? was i actually right to shut up abt my interests this whole time? is that part of the masculine in me? if so, why does it hurt so much, when being masc in every other way feels soo good, so freeing?

this is much longer than it was intended or ever needed to be, and yet it covers like, half of my psychological issues lol.

this is me trying to give myself permussion to watch other works w brenton thwaites lol

if you relate in ny way shaoe or form to this, i am sorry, i love you, and you are allowed to like things.

[anonymousreductionjournal]

First off, this is a weight loss journal

The background: I've always been larger. A couple of years ago, I did a fairly strict and extreme diet (in a personally safe way) and was able to lose a lot of weight in just a couple months (around 60lbs / 27.25kg in 2.5 months) but was promoted to manager at my old job.

Things got super stressful and I fell off watching my weight and started stress eating. Eventually the stress eating became habitual and while I am at a much more laid back job now, I'm not healthy by any means and I weigh more than I originally did.

I lost my old scale when I moved so I hadn't weighed myself in some time and finally did and it was like a punch to the gut to read the number.

So I made this sideblog to document my numbers and progress.

My information and rules to my diet and personal rules for my blog below:

Blog rules:

First and foremost, while I may occasionally interact with potentially pro-ana posts, this is primarily for recipes and as a whole, I do not support anorexia. Numerically speaking, as per the rules of my diet, some can consider it falling under anorexia in the long term but one of my main rules for my own diet is that if I am feeling unwell or sick, the diet is called off for the day or extra consumption is added but more details will be added further down.

Second; I am an adult. I suffer from bad body dysmorphia regarding my size and even for the sake of progress, I do not photograph myself and will not share photos of myself on here. The only pictures I might share will be of meals I enjoyed with the recipes for later reference

Third; I am not expecting followers as this is mainly a tagless blog (aside for a specifically unique tag for the aforementioned meal posts) but considering the mental health, the extremes to which people can take diets, and self body image of people, I will block any minor that follows this blog. I do not want to endorse the idea of extreme diets to minors. Be safe and smart.

Diet rules:

1. Food content does not matter outside of calorie count. I do not care how many carbs or what the level of transfats are in a food, I specifically only count calories

2. Calorie restriction is going to be averaged at 1000 per day with some minor wiggle room. I will aim for 1000, if I hit 1200, itd be disappointing but is still in the weight loss range and isnt a big deal. I will not go above 1500. If I do go above 1500, the remainder would be reduced from a strict 1000 the following day. For example, if I eat 1700 cal, the 200 over would be removed from the next day, aiming for now 800.

2. 1 day a week will be allotted for a cheat day. I can but probably wont count calories on this day. This is for when I spend time with friends or have meals with my partner on a mutual day off, or to just eat unhealthy fast food.

3. The following day will usually be a fast day

The typical schedule is that my partner and I typically have sundays off together (minus my occasional working sunday) so my diet schedule would be Tues-Sat, cheat Sunday, Fast Monday. But the days arent definite as it more revolves around availability of friends and such when I will have the cheat day.

And most importantly

4. The diet will be on hold if I am ill. If I am horribly sick, or struggling for the day and feeling like I might pass out or having unending horrible migraines that keep me from doing my job, the diet is canceled for the day. I will eat so I feel better and I will not hold it against myself and I will not reduce or fast the following day (unless its currently a cheat day, in which case feeling ill should be unrelated to the diet anyway)

5. Not a definite rule, but I will attempt to post basic weights daily for me here. These posts will be very short, just the date and weight, with body measurements potentially once a week. Weights will be taken in just underwear for consistency and accuracy. While I have "they" in my bio, I have a male body so if you see measurements for bust/waist/hips/thighs, take this into consideration. Thigh measurements is the circumference of my right thigh, not both thighs at the same time.

----

I dont really have an end goal at the moment, anything is better than what it is right now. I may set periodic goals but considering I cant adjust my diet further, I cant plan to weigh this or that by a certain date. The previous time I did this diet, I lost 20+lbs/9+kgs a month but I had a job on my feet versus my current desk job so rates will differ from last time.

Please dont give me hate or attack posts for me being large, I know I am and that is why I am starting this.

April 3rd, 2024

Edit, all weights should be applied to my physical height of 6'2 / 187cm

[falfasreblogblog]

2024

shitty irrelevant thoughts/actual blogging

So it's a new year now. To be honest I feel kind of guilty posting things that aren't 'art' online. and to be even more honest than that I feel kind of guilty posting art too.

2023 was... bad. I started off the year with a myriad of trips to the hospital, coupled with several months of starvation and pain, coming out completely broken on the other side.

2019, 2020, 2021, and 2022 weren't exactly great either. It's been death upon death, and hospital visit upon hospital visit. My body and mind have undergone a metamorphosis that feels... Alien. There's nothing quite like losing your physical ability to perform basic tasks to fuel pre-existing body-dysmorphia.

I thought I'd be homeless or dead by now.

The only things keeping me sane have been my friends, online and irl, and a generous amount of highly dissociated media consumption and creation. I lead an isolated life where most of my time is spent in varying levels of pain.

Sometime a few months ago I stopped having dreams and nightmares when I sleep. Maybe that sounds like a good thing, considering most of it was trauma dreams that got so bad I sometimes found myself waking up to the sounds of my own wimpering sobs. But instead of being pleasant it just feels... empty. Wrong. Like something is missing. Like I've run out of feelings.

I had to dissociate pretty hard to manage things this year. My family life is... Turbulent. Showcasing any form of emotion to the words and treatment slung at me by my father and brother usually ends up badly for me. There have been times where I felt unsafe. One time I ran away, despite my physical condition, to stay on a mattress on the floor of an empty room with no curtains. I wanted to die. I spent all my time making music and art to keep myself from going through with it. I dissociated so hard that all of my masochism worsened and warped to the point of homicidal thoughts.

When you're that far away from yourself, with no care for yourself or others, your mangled survival instincts ironically ends up making you very efficient. It makes you 'sharp'. On edge - hyper observant - yet enveloped in a calculating calm. Nothing matters, but everything matters; your prime objective is to end up on top, untouchable by the world.

It's... chilling.

Knowing that it's happening to you, and knowing that you can't just 'turn it off' as easily as others can turn it on.

I want to go back to my real personality. I know they're in there. I'm 'me' right now as I'm writing this, but a very broken version of it. The 'other me' - the calculating one - is still here.

I dont want them/the 'other me' to talk to my friends too much, so I usually isolate whenever this happens. I'm aware there's no such thing as 'another me' - it's a trauma response. And a very potent one at that, considering there's 3-4 of them. Dissociating sucks.

One day, I hope there's only one of me.

Maybe if my body gets better, physically, I'll be able to work on it in peace. If the doctors finally find some sort of treatment for my swelling and infections and pain.

I want to hold somebody and feel whole.

I really want that to happen.

[somethinglikelife]

We need to teach compassion

((Was written on my WP a while back. but wanted to transfer it over))

Sunday, my little town (okay not so little) was SWATTED, by someone from out of the state. If you don't know what that is, it's where someone calls the cops with a fake dangerous situation that has the local SWAT team sent to deal with it.

This is dangerous on so many levels, ties up the police from real situations, and the other, well gets people killed. This one, also had lost revenue for the local businesses around the fast food place that was the target of the SWAT.

What upsets me on it was that the SWAT that was called in, said that someone was going through a mental health crisis. The police don't exactly have a good record for mental health issues. There was an older man just a few years ago that was living with dementia that in one of his bad days, picked up a knife, wasn't using it as a weapon, just holding it, but he made it outside his home and the police didn't even try to de-escalate, they just fired because he had a knife, killing the man in front of his family.

I have heard other stories about similar situations.

And I shouldn't have looked through the comments about the situation, because people in there were commenting about how dangerous people who are mentally ill are.

I have depression. Only person I have ever harmed was two attempts at taking myself out. These are the same kind of people who say those with body dysmorphia are sick, as well as many people of the alphabet mafia.

Yet these are the same people that will say a cis-woman wanting breast reduction or enhancement is perfectly fine.

And when I did bring it up in a comment of course I was attacked by the person and their friends. And yeah the things that were said almost made me leave that ap, but I actually like the app for use when it comes to yard sale season, and for craft shows.

Though that experience reminded me why I didn't like the idea of hanging out on that app that often. I think I'm going to remember to stay quiet about topics there, because one, it's clear most of the people in my area are Sunday Book Cult members, and yeah, I really you can't quote their own book at them for compassion lessons, because unless you're a member of that cult, you take everything out of context.

Where, I'm pretty sure they take everything out of context, but who am I to talk. ON that note, I just got a call from my boss to see if I wanted to get some more hours at work. I'll have to be up soon so I can go spend time with a Client I haven't met before. I'm thinking just because of the incident on Sunday... I'm upping my whole Pagan look with a long skirt and my cute purple jacket. I need the fun. I think I'm also taking a book with me to keep me awake.

[skoople]

speaking of wasn’t the misogyny in chicken little fucked up. I know you’ve said this exact thing before but goddamn they literally brainwashed her

it was so fucked up and today we'll be discussing the misogyny suffered by chicken little (2005) characters Abby Mallard and Foxy Loxy. dont be fucking mean to them or else.

first of all the level of appearance based misogyny directed towards this little bird was more accurate to middle school in the early 2000s than anything turning red did.

they do this fisheye lens and call her Ugly Duckling* which is like rude and indicative of social status in canon, but just a real fucking dick move by animators making a movie for kids (including girls who get bullied for their appearance and the peers that bully them).

*expanding on the Ugly Duckling thing, connor @turochamp made a really good point on a call about the fact that shes going to grow up to be a swan and therefore beautiful and Deserving Of Respect. if i were writing this and i did a flash forward, i would make her an adopted gosling and she would be on estradiol.

Abby is consistently mocked by the narrative (but rarely if ever mocked by her own friends) for being emotional and trying to help her friends with their emotions. why, as a person making a movie for children, would you tell children this is bad? because you are the kind of person who would write that rotten bastard buck cluck as sympathetic.

if you are ever mean to Abby Mallard ever in your life i will hunt you down and you have to be nice to her she is just a sweet little bird look at how she sits in the theatre seat

moving on to Foxy Loxy. female bully characters often get treated especially poorly because they get little, if any, defense. they are often used as an outlet for misogyny in some truly ugly ways. the most common version you see is making them in some way more "masculine" than the sympathetic female characters.

shes stockier (which im honestly relieved for; the alternative would have lead to bad places), she wears overalls, and shes a proficient athlete in both dodgeball and baseball. if we're talking about female bullies being made to seem more masculine, it's also worth mentioning that Goosey Loosey (left) is voiced by Mark Walton for the few speaking lines she has.

now it's time to get into the part of the movie that anyone older than 14 was very disturbed by:

what the hell and also fuck was this supposed to be if not something truly evil?

jesus christ man i dont even know what to say but if its been a while since youve watched the film, heres a refresher of the sequence of events. spoilers for a 17 year old movie:

aliens rampage through town, vaporizing citizens and teleporting them into an interdimensional holding cell

the vaporization process impacts foxy loxys brainwaves, making her overtly feminine and extremely dumbed down

the aliens, now reconciled with chicken little and his piece of shit father, offer to "unscramble" foxy loxys brain

runt of the litter stops them, claiming that "shes perfect!" and implying that the two of them are now romantically involved

what the fuck. i dont even know what to say. this is so nightmarishly bad that im just gonna skip to some final notes.

there are a couple last points that i wanna bring up, such as the action movie adaptation of their adventures at the end of the film.

yes this is real official disney art that they thought was fine

you may have noticed earlier on in the movie Abby emphasizing the importance of closure using a magazine intended to parody Cosmo, featuring a duck model on the cover. a duck that looks very similar to that model portrays Abby in the action movie version. here's my impression of the writers room. "do you gentlemen see this drawing of a 13 year old bird? well, shes a girl, so we have to make sure that we give her BODY DYSMORPHIA!" . clap.

Foxy Loxy's movie design only appears in the video game adaptation but i felt it was worth mentioning. she, like Abby, is weirdly oversexualized in this (theres only so far you can take the "its a parody" argument), but i want you to take note of her teeth. thats right she has evil metal fangs, intended to evoke her real-life counterparts braces. once again, just a real dick move as a choice for people making an animated movie for kids

the last point of misogyny i want to bring up is that suffered by Chicken Little himself. he did suffer misogyny, especially from the animators pre-transition. what's transition for a little animated chicken?

why, its when they finally decide to make him a boy so that hes more relatable to an audience of boys and boy-alternatives (i heard theyre called girls but im not sure. i dont work for barbie.) so they solidify this decision by going through all his 3d models and deleting the little pink bow he wore. also they fridged his mom (her name is chloe btw) to make buck cluck more sympathetic and explain his awful parenting. it did not work even a little bit.

theres also something to be said about how the mom alien is treated as the softer but deferent emotional voice, but the dad alien is ultimately justified in the mayhem he creates.

TLDR: this is a disney movie about playing baseball for your father's approval and it did not treat women very well. there were too many mean-spirited choices to dismiss, but they were choices, and the structure of the movie can remain intact with a decent rewrite.

[diorjadore]

California — Vinnie Hacker

Part 1 of the California Series

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Pairing/s: Vinnie Hacker x fem!reader

Summary: She finally made it to Los Angeles after months of planning! Looking forward to a hot girl summer with her friends, she catches the eye of a famous social media influencer.

Warning/s: Too long for my liking, mentions of eating disorder and body dysmorphia, alcohol consumption

Word count: ~2.4k words

Song Suggestion/s:

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July 8, 2:30 pm

Finally in Los Angeles, you thought. Your supposed excitement is currently clouded by exhaustion from the long haul flight you just took, you literally crossed oceans for this, you owe yourself at least a smile. Nobody was available to pick you up since they’re preparing for the birthday dinner you planned for your best friend, Nadine. She’s turning 21 in a few weeks and you wanted to have an excuse to dress fancy and eat expensive food everywhere, from here to New York City. Yes, the Big Apple is part of your month-long trip. That you definitely are excited for despite spending your fall and spring days in Columbia University, your dream school in your dream city.

Sighing, you claimed the black car you rented and drove yourself to the hotel and being the micromanager you truly are, you specifically wanted to land at the right time for check-in. You were greeted by the bellhop as he took your luggages, yup 2 big ones and a carry-on full of shoes, bags, and outfits, it is LA after all. Drip or drown! After thanking the scrawny bellboy, you immediately plop down the plush sofa, taking a deep breath as you promise to just close your eyes for an hour.

5:00 pm

You have a reservation by 6:30 at, you guessed it, Boa Steakhouse! You hurriedly took a shower and wore your outfit, a baby pink bustier top, ordinary white jeans, your favorite J’Adior plumetis heels, matching jewelry, and a Dior bag. A few minutes for hair and makeup and voila, you’ve respawned from the dead. You picked up the Hansen’s cake you pre-ordered and you were finally on your way. To some, being late might be the end of the world but they’re your friends, they know you always are, it might be an ego thing or just being plain irresponsible, they’ll never know, you’ll never know either. Given that you were 15 minutes late, they were already seated and you respectfully greeted Celine’s parents first, they’re Los Angeles locals and part of why you’re here is because you miss their daughter dearly.

“Look at you, Y/n! So beautiful. Do you have a boyfriend?” Celine’s mom playfully complimented, you chuckled.

“Oh no, I don’t have one.” You just smiled. You honestly don’t mind not having one, being busy with college and all that. It never really crossed your mind because you were always preoccupied with academics, organizational work, internships, and life in general. It’s peaceful to say the least but of course, it gets lonely. You pushed it to the back of your mind, not ready for another responsibility, your mind is already divided enough as it is.

“Get one here, there’s a lot of good looking guys. Maybe I’ll help you find one!” That made you smile but you quickly got distracted as someone caught your eye. It’s Celine’s baby sister, Annie! You almost cried from happiness as you slightly kneeled down to be eye level with her.

“Hi, my love. I’m Y/n, nice to meet you.” You said in the most endearing voice trying to win her over. She grinned and asked you to pick her up which of course, you did. Who wouldn’t?

“Will you guys drink tonight? Y/n, how old are you?” Celine’s dad spoke for the first time catching your attention.

You shrugged but the group nodded. “I’m 20, turning 21 in a few months!” You cheered.

“But you’re 21 tonight?” Celine’s mom gave you a mischievous look, smirking. You just laughed. You’re no stranger to alcohol, nothing you can’t handle.

You gushed and pointed at the moon and Annie hugged you tightly, she’s very loving. But it’s time for her to go because Celine’s and Red’s parents have a reservation of their own at another restaurant.

“Bye, see you soon!” You grinned widely and you finally had the time to acknowledge your friends. You walked around the table kissing them all on the cheek; from Nathan, to Kade, finally Celine and her boyfriend Eli, on the other side were Eloise, Red, Gabe, and finally Nadine. You took your seat beside the birthday girl, turning slightly to your left because there was no one beside you anyways apart from the table a meter away from you. If you told Nadine in high school that this group would eventually have dinner together, so much so in a place like LA, then she would’ve laughed at you. The boys, except for Red were all basketball players, both Eloise and Red were your typical straight and queer duo, and the rest of the girls were the famous ones that everybody seemed to like. But that was 2 years ago, everybody evolved and left the labels in the past. Plus, they’re all of your and Celine’s friends so they better treat each other nicely.

Celine and Eli were the inseparable couple ever since she migrated to the States. You always joked how she should do a face reveal but she wouldn’t unless he gave her a ring. You’re one to remember because she recently posted him on her Close Friends story on Instagram. She isn’t slick. They came up to you and you grabbed her hand and joked, “Where’s the ring?” to Eli and he froze.

Celine said, “Who told you?” Shock written on her face.

“Ya’ll fold too easily.” You laughed because your intuition is never wrong. You hugged her and congratulated them. Marriage! Is she happy? Yes. Does she think it’s too soon? Also yes.

“There’s one more surprise though…” Celine dragged. Oh no, is she pregnant? Damn, the whole 9 yards.

“What?”

“I want you to be my bridesmaid!” She jumped up and down hugging her. Both of you felt like crying. Not so long ago, you just met because believe it or not, you had the same bully as hers and now you guys are all grown up, thriving. Adult life’s finally starting for her.

“Of course, what the hell!” You had tears in your eyes from the happiness. Guess this is a night for multiple celebrations.

“I have a gift for you though!” The future bride said as she gave you a box. It looks like a book.

“Oh, Waterstones! They sell The Song of Achileas Anniversary Edition.” You nonchalantly mentioned that you’ve always wanted to read that specific version. And when you opened it, you got teary eyed as you skimmed the first few pages of the blue and gold hardbound book. You bid your thanks and joked how you didn’t need bribing because you would’ve forced her to make you a bridesmaid anyway.

The food was taking so long and you were shaking, you haven’t eaten anything since lunch from the plane, you didn’t mind though because you wanted to be skinny. Nathan and Nadine took notice and asked you what’s up. You just shrugged it off but they know about your body image issues but they can’t do anything about it. They know how you struggled with body dysmorphia and how you wish you were skinnier, like those magazine girls from the early 2000s. As Kate Moss said, “Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.” Luckily, the food finally arrived and the conversations poured like running water ranging from your hometown to frat parties. Laughter and the sounds of dinnerware clinking were the few noises to be heard from your table.

“Y/n and Nadine, do you wanna go to a frat party at Chapman University? I matched with this guy on Tinder and he invited me to his Phi Delt frat house. I would normally ask Red but I believe it’s no guys allowed.” Eloise hopefully asked the both of you. You were wary but agreed nonetheless, knowing that fraternities don’t let guys in unless it’s Pre-Rush. Eloise would be in grave danger if she went alone and Y/n would never let that happen.

The chatter died down and meals were finished and now they were preparing to order champagne and Don Julio 1942 to rowdily commence the night of drinking. The girls already had a few cocktails, a mojito being your personal favorite. No birthday is a birthday if it doesn’t have shots, of course. So you poured for everybody and drank until you could see the bottom of both bottles. You were never a lightweight so you downed some more, feeling tipsy.

It was finally time to blow out Nadine’s cake! You asked a server to get it for you from their freezer and you added some sparklers to the beautiful almond, vanilla bean, and berries cake, and of course a candle. You sang Happy Birthday and let her blow it, 21’s gonna be the best one yet. Your face illuminated by the light coming from the sparklers, your smile was truly a sight to see. You gave her a special greeting card that’s one of your inside jokes — it’s Emma Stone’s Easy A birthday card that plays Natasha Bedingfield’s Pocketful of Sunshine and she couldn’t contain her laughter. She can’t believe you remembered something from high school.

8:45 pm

You never noticed the group of guys sitting at the table right beside yours so when a curly blond boy, whom you recognized as Aaron Hull the Twitch streamer, tapped your shoulder and pointed to the guy in front of him, you were dumbfounded to see none other than Vinnie Hacker himself looking quite like he’s gonna shit his pants from nervousness. His friends took notice of his sudden change of demeanor when you walked in the room hours ago, he fell almost literally, I mean does feeling like fainting count?

His group was an odd mix too, from his best friends Jett, DJ, and Jack, to Aaron, Troy, Hub, and even Sunny, plus Eamon and Liza. They were having an advance birthday dinner for Vinnie as well. His friends kept on forcing him to tap your shoulder or do something because they know the guy, scared of girls but not moms. How is that even possible? Any who, they’re afraid he might lose the chance to know you so Aaron did it for him. You know him as the thirst trap guy from Tiktok and you followed him both there and on IG but other than that, he was a blur. You always found him pretty but paid no more attention, you can’t in all ways possible date him anyways, you thought before. You know of the people dining with him from Vinnie’s Instagram, they’re a cool bunch.

Vinnie felt as if time froze, the world around him in slow motion, and the faint piano recording in the background was suddenly muted. His eyes wide because Aaron didn’t give him any warning. Your smile snapped him out of his trance, just in time as you said your first words to him. “Hello, I’m Y/n.” You stretched your hand out and smiled, thankfully the table is near enough. He shook your hand and both of you felt a spark, his cold hand from the nerves shocking your warm ones. Both of your friend groups were now engrossed in your surreal interaction. Celine knew you found him attractive, she just didn’t think too much about it because how many lucky stars do you need to have for you to meet your social media happy crush? Much so, the Vinnie Hacker himself?

“I’m Vinnie, nice to meet you. Sorry ‘bout my friend Aaron he set me up.” The blond boy in a red bandana sheepishly said blushing, chuckling and scratching the back of his head out of embarrassment and frustration. He kicked his fellow curly blond boy under the table when you looked away.

Vinnie felt like someone lit up a wildfire inside him when you touched. What is this damn feeling? He thought to himself. His mind was racing with all the possibilities and his stomach was doing backflips, erupting butterflies, everything! Meanwhile, you tried to not give the interaction much thought on the outside, not wanting to embarrass him further. But on the inside, your heart was pounding, you can hear it even.

The night went on, your group was pretty tipsy and bold. So you did what a normal “table-mate” would do, you offered Vinnie’s friend group shots. Some denied but Vinnie, Aaron, and Troy agreed and you took the shot with them. They were quite amazed by how well you took yours because they never tasted Don Julio and they were shocked at how distinct it was. They grimaced and reached anything liquid to chase it down but they were unsuccessful. Maybe they aren’t used to hard drinks?

Nadine played with your slightly drunk ass and asked you to put your number and IG username on a napkin, as per Celine and Eloise’s instructions. They pretended that it was for Celine’s contact since you mainly communicated through IG and that she needs it while you’re in town. You paid no mind and agreed to it and then pulled Nadine to the bathroom. Celine saw this as a perfect opportunity to give it to Vinnie.

She hurried across the table to Vinnie’s and gave it to him. She said, “Here’s her number and Instagram. Knowing her, she won’t ever make a move on you, you’re lucky she even looked twice.” Vinnie just replied with a shocked “Okay.” and kept the napkin in his wallet. He better keep it well because all of this: a pretty girl and some uncomfortable feelings, don’t come often.

She’s right, you weren’t much of a people person. Just like Vinnie, you were shy and reserved, never letting anyone in to ruin the peace.

As if reading his mind, Celine continued. “But if you lose it, just ask your Purgatory team if Jasmine knows Celine. We’re friends.” She sat back at her table at the right time as you and Nadine entered the room.

You have this ethereal aura around you that’s equally charming and enticing and it’s driving Vinnie insane. Your breathtaking smile, the grace you carry yourself with, your intelligence as you talk about the most random things whenever he eavesdropped, your kindness from parents to waiters, and your humor and contagious laugh that makes everybody burst into fits. You’re an enigma that Vinnie’s too scared to solve but courageous enough to open.

—

Author’s note: Slay mama gurl purrrr let me know if you guys want another part or I don’t know make it a series LMAO I want to tho. I wrote this in 4 hours I hope it doesn’t suck! Down for suggestions :’) enjoy!

[hotwings0203]

An Ode to the Unseen

Thinkin about readers who feel self conscious, readers who feel like they’re not happy with their weight, readers who don’t feel girly enough or feel too vulnerable because of whatever height they’re at. I’m thinkin about readers who suffer from body dysmorphia, who shy away from looking at themselves in the mirror to avoid seeing their scars, body hair or acne. This is for the readers who feel too submissive and feel like a pushover in their lives, and this is for the readers who feel like they’re too fiesty and not soft enough. It doesn’t matter if you feel like you can’t relate to the stereotypical tropes in writing, or if you feel like you can’t act like a perfectly constructed Y/N in real life, this ones for you💖

A/N: Hello to all reading! I made this on a whim just to tackle some of the insecurities lesser described characters in stories might feel, but this is in no way meant to exclude anyone at all! We all have beautiful bodies, and should own up to it even if we don’t always see the problems we face in writing. Some of these topics might be sensitive to readers or trigger memories that might be disturbing to others, so please heed the warnings! Also the Hawks prompt at the end gets pretty nsfw, so heads up for that hehe

CW: dubcon, manipulating, fluff, slight angst, EDs, body dysmorphia, kidnapping, abuse, degradation, some nsfw, yandere, language, insecurity

You’re ever feeling not particularly happy with your face or body because of an acne breakout, or a rash that won’t go away? Maybe a birthmark that you try to cover up with makeup? Even stretch marks or scars from surgery?

You can bet your ass shigaraki will notice the way you can barely glance at the mirror some days just so you don’t have to see your own reflection when it’s time to go to bed with him.

His obvious and intense stare makes you fidget and gets your skin crawling, but he says nothing that night when he holds you a little too tightly-tighter than most nights he’s with you. The sound of his raspy breaths lulls you to sleep, but when you wake up he’s already gone, out on another mission or at a meeting with the Yakuza.

You feel groggy and gross, and going to the bathroom just to look in the mirror again to see whatever ails your body and/or face does nothing to stop your groan of misery.

You do your business all while turning away from your reflection, not wanting to see a second more of your discontentment staring right back at you while you wash your face, brush your teeth, and meticulously do your hair.

Finally making your way downstairs to the bar, you sit on one of the barstools and hold your head in your hands, not wanting to meet anyone’s gaze and no doubt seeing their disgust at your ailment.

But you look up when a soft whirring sound and purple-black tendrils of smoke appear before you

“Young master L/N,” Kurogiri says. “Have you been feeling alright? You retired earlier last night and had the most uncomfortable of expressions on your face, I couldn’t help but notice.”

No matter how much you despised or were wary of Tomura, you knew his caretaker, Kurogiri, had your back. He was respectful of your space, and if he knew you weren’t in the mood for talking then he wouldn’t push you

And so you told him your predicament, opening up about your problem spot(s)

“It’s so embarrassing, Kurogiri. I feel gross and I feel like everyone’s looking at me,” you mumble, putting your head down on the cool polished wood countertop.

He’s silent for a moment or two, before the tendrils of his supposed hands warp into a small portals. They appear again immediately, producing a couple of bottles and place them in front of you.

You raise your head slightly at the sound of sloshing liquid and rattling pills as the bottles are lined up before you in an orderly fashion, and you eye them suspiciously.

“What’s this?” You ask, picking up a tube as your curiosity is piqued.

“Young master Tomura Shigaraki had warned me beforehand of your reclusive nature when you ponder on what cannot be controlled, and sent me a list this morning to pick up some medication that might help you, should you need it. He asked me to bring back every item as soon as possible, so you wouldn’t feel the need to procure anything by yourself and strain yourself unnecessarily.”

You scoff, not buying the surprising act of affection. “So, what, he’s just doing this so he doesn’t have to look at my disgusting (body part of choice) anymore? He wants to come back and see some perfectly molded pet to stare at all day?”

Kurogiri shakes his head, however.

“I know how the young master is perceived to many: abrasive, immature, and brash in his thoughts and actions. He has a long way to go in terms of maturing in the way he views things, and unfortunately he was not blessed with…the best of upbringings, so he truly doesn’t know any better, as you already know.”

You wince internally, feeling slightly guilty now.

“But,” he continues slowly, “he was not born with evil in his heart. He’s just bitter with society, and is desperate for others to know his pain and see the world for what it really is towards those who are suffering. That’s why he is so taken with you, young L/N. Before you came here, he observed your mannerisms and was thoroughly attracted to the way you could see through people’s surface level facades. Although your views on the world may differ here and there, he is desperate to show you that he understands your suffering, and that he’s there for you-“

“-yeah, well, he has a funny way of showing it,” you mutter darkly, memories of chains and dark rooms and various marks on your body flashing through your mind. Even if Kurogiri was telling the truth, it would take some time for you to come around and even begin to try to give yourself to Shigaraki. He was just too volatile, too rough and negligent of your wants and needs. He lashed out at everything you did, and made you feel like nothing you ever did was enough to please his shifty nature.

“Yes, I can understand you bitter feelings towards him,” the black and purple mass hummed in thought. “I have tried explaining how a human girl is to be treated, however, and he is slowly trying to learn. I feel as though he may feel embarrassed at times from his lack of knowledge at such simple social norms, and that is another factor of his frequent temper tantrums. He might be the leader of a powerful villain organization, but when he realizes he has no knowledge of making friends or keeping relationships, it’s an embarrassing blow to his ego. Especially with you, he is especially sentimental and touchy regarding topics that pertain to you. He often will sit here in silence after you two have a, uh, little spat, and hesitantly will seek my advice on how to make things up to you. ”

And you realize with a grimace that he’s right-there are days after you both have a big blowout(usually over the most pettiest of things, maybe you turned away from him while sleeping and he took it as a sign of disobedience, or maybe you didn’t greet him when he came back from an especially tiring mission and he used that opportunity to take his pent up stress out on you) that he’ll come back after storming out of the room only to creep back in hours later with various trinkets in his hand.

You’d be alerted of his presence when the pitch black room is blessed with a yellow ray of light from the opening creaky door as he enters, and you will yourself to continue breathing slowly, as if you were still asleep. But he’s so quiet and stealthy as he comes closer to you, it’s hard not to be surprised and flinch or jump when his arm reaches over you just to place one of your favorite snacks on the cracked dresser next to you.

It’s hard to keep your head down on the dusty pillow and keep your curiosity in check when you feel him breathing down your neck as he lays a stuffed animal on the blanket next to you, and you often wonder where he knows to buy such fragile and innocent things.

Your aesthetic that he so closely has memorized from each singular color to the details of your favorite patterns make a stark, disturbing contrast to his greying, deadly aura. It’s almost impressive that he pertains each gift to your taste when he’s feeling especially sorrowful

“But nevertheless, the master has asked me relinquish these to you as soon as you came downstairs. And, just between me and you,” he leans closer and you do too, finding yourself wanting to know this secret side of your captor even further, “he was muttering something as he left, something along the lines of not wanting you to feel like you had to use these products. I think he was trying to say that he never wants you to feel as though you have to make up any part of your body you feel insecure about to him. He wants you to stay the same way you always are, and if you never adjust to your surroundings here, then he at the very least wants you to be comfortable in your own skin, blemishes and all.”

“This may or may not come as a surprise to you, but he himself knows what it’s like to feel insecure about his own skin and body,” and it comes across so ridiculously innocent and striking to you that such a lethal character such as the infamous Shigaraki would have the same problems a normal, functioning member of society would have: skincare and body insecurity. But the lines, scratches, and scars that litter his face can attest to this notion. How often did he himself avoid looking in the mirror for, not wanting to see his translucent skin, the clawmarks that left bright, angry trails up his face and down the sides of his neck, the cracks in and around his lips and eyes? Is that why he left his hair down skit covered his face, and the hand on top covering him whole more often on than not?

And so you finally open the lid to the tube, testing the feel of its contents that promise your mutinous skin some time of relief.

The door suddenly bangs open, and the man of the hour himself slinks in, nails idly scratching the underside of his jaw as he mutters under his breath to himself.

He lifts his head and sees you and kurogiri at the bar, a tube of ointment in your hand , the lid opened in testing as the rest of his presents are in array all around you.

As if you were accepting them.

As if you were accepting him

He feels his face beat up and his deteriorating body starts to prickle and sweat. He merely scratches harder, his mumbling continuing as he slowly makes his way over to you

You watch his little unsure shuffled towards you, and you can’t help it when your heart twinges as you take in his hopeful yet cautious expression, no matter how hard he tries to stifle any vulnerable emotion

So, in a moments decision of truce you quickly lean forward to whisper to Kurogiri one last favor before turning to see a new light of your captor

“Before I go, I need some things from you, please. By tonight, do you think you could pick up some self care things at the corner store for me? I’m talking face masks, lotions, Vaseline, and hair products.”

“I think if I see him accept himself and care for the body he’s in least for one night, I could be happy in my skin, too.”

Feeling conscious about your weight, whether it’s over or under your preferred look? Please, don’t make Kiri laugh at your naivety

You groaned as you stood on the scale, the numbers reading back at you seeming more mocking than simple statistics

You weren’t meeting your preferred weight, and it was beginning to take a harsher toll on you now more than ever with Kiri around all the time

It was easier to ignore it when you lived by yourself in secluded bliss, where the walls of where you lived couldn’t talk or pass judgement about your eating habits, the times you did or didn’t keep up with yourself as months of promising to do the Chloe Ting workouts turned into forgetful reminders that dwindled down into barely passing thoughts.

Where you had your own, carefully chosen friends who could relate and share the secrets of their insecurities, the little area of pudge that just won’t go away, that upper area of their arms of legs that refused to build muscle even after months of eating straight protein and going to the gym.

You got to choose your own happiness, you got to choose if you wanted to spend countless hours scrolling through social media with your coworkers, gazing in envy at the hundreds of models people swooned over, or if you wanted to call it a day and eat a whole bucket of cookies and cream ice cream while watching a sappy rom com, just because it made you happy

But now, not so much

You could tolerate Kiri gradually distancing yourself from friends who he thought didn’t have the “best interests” for you

You could patiently follow the chipper rules of his house to wait for him when he got home, greet him at the door in nice clothes, and sit down to eat dinner with him

You even started getting used to having his eccentric, loud friends over who bustled and teased you around when Kiri invited them over for a boys night even if that “boys night” ended in them being hurriedly ushered out as he caught a glimpse of you in an accidentally-provocative apron

But your sanity and self worth was slowly started to snap like an overstretched rubber band when it came to trusting your body. Your mutinous, betraying body that just didn’t do what you fucking wanted it to do, that was constantly compared to the models friends Kirishima would bring around, like Mina and Jirou

They were angels, of course, so, so sweet to you

Constantly reassuring you that the new dress your captor boyfriend practically shoved you in in his eagerness to see you in red (his color) fit oh so well on you

They tried to convince you that no, the dress wasn’t stretched too tight on you to be considered healthy, and no, it didn’t need to be shrank in some places either

They tried, they really did

Unfortunately for them however, their relentless support didn’t hold a candle’s light to the body builders and Pilates instructors Kiri would model with for health magazines almost every month

They could never understand what it was like to be in constant doubt and shame when you feel your seemingly mismatched figure, their bodies reflecting healthy proportions in every nook and corner, skin and smooth and soft as a baby’s, with glowing reflections of perspiration

And you always seemed like the only poor unfortunate soul who sat in the corner, sulking and watching ripped muscles and leaned, toned limbs mingle amongst each other to socialize and effortlessly slide inside various apparel that of course fit their body and shaped them in ways you couldn’t even dream of

And it didn’t help that night after night, Kiri would hold you on his lap, bouncing his eager knee as he shoveled bite after bite of food into your unwilling mouth

He infantilized the hell out of you, convinced you were too naive and self-loathing to see your true beauty and how he had to take it on himself to show you what he saw in you

It made you feel pathetic, and helpless. Maybe that’s what you were though, maybe that’s really what he was trying to show you

You felt like you deserved it, anyways

So you stand there, on the weighing machine, feeling the last shreds of self confidence slip down and out of your body, akin to the light tears that splash on the marble bathroom floor.

“Babe? What’re you doing?”

Aw, fuck

You quickly brushed away your tears and stifled your imminent sobs to avoid being coddled as usual by the gentle giant who stood behind you

It frustrated him to no end, no doubt. It didn’t matter how often he’d sit you down and kiss you all over, letting you know how much he loved every precious inch of your body, it didn’t matter how gently he’d cradle your face to force you to look into his eyes just to tell you how beautiful you were, how lucky he is to have kidnapped you

It was never enough for your fragile heart, and he saw it in the way you flinched under his praise and shrunk under his loving gaze that raked over your body that he compared to an angel’s

As if you thought he was a liar, just saying it for your sake

As if you didn’t believe his words, as if you didn’t want to believe his words

As if you were disobeying him

“It-its nothing Kiri, just PMS,” you mumbled, the snot in your nose making you sound nasaly and shaky

“Your period was two weeks ago, and none of your symptoms have ever made you throw up.” He says with a raised eyebrow, his arms crossing as he leans against the doorframe

So he did see you slip out after dinner and head straight for the toilet, huh?

Busted

If he wasn’t so worried about you, he would’ve ditched the mild tone kept up for your sake and had you bent over one knee with a red ass just for lying to him

But from the way you quickly step off the scale and attempt to squeeze past him tells him you aren’t just being hard-to-get, you’re not in one of your resistance fits

And he thinks he knows exactly what’s causing you to not-so-subtly shift your eyes from the weighing scale back to your own body, as if you hadn’t already been doing that for weeks now

He just has to make sure

“Did someone say something to you?” He catches your arm and gently yet firmly prevents you from slipping past him outside the bathroom, away from him

“No, no, seriously I just felt sick, I think I ate something weird,” you try to laugh breezily but the waver in your voice does nothing but further increase Kirishima’s aching heart for you

“You sure? ‘Sure I don’t need to go talk to someone who maybe said the wrong thing to you?” And although his cheerful voice holds nothing but playful jest, the dark glint in his eye does nothing to indicate that all he wants is a friendly talk, especially when he tightens his grip on your arm and pulls you so close that you’re nose to nose with him, looking right at him with tears eyes and flushed cheeks

There’s no point in pretending anymore. He might seem like an airhead, but he’s not one of the city’s top hero because of his airy, gentle nature

“Ugh, no Kiri, no one said anything to me. I just…” you trail off, not wanting to feel the inevitable embarrassment you’ll feel when you tell him the truth

How disgusting you feel when you see his buff, toned, chiseled body that’s akin to a Greek God’s compared to yours

How you long to secretly have the right figure to one day be worthy enough to be deemed his partner in a modeling gig, just once, just to feel like you’re worthy of him and his equivalently built body, a body that reflects hard work and perseverance

Something you seldom see or feel in your own mass of distorted limbs

“What is it?” He pleads softly, begging you to let him fix anything for you, to let him be a man good enough for you

You look into his ruby red eyes that hold a puppy-in-love expression, and when you find only adoration for you in them, you can’t help yourself for falling into the trust and care you so desperately want in that moment

“I’m…so tired of not feeling good about myself. About feeling overweight, underweight, seeing bits of pudge and flab in one area and then seeing some thin and gangly areas in others. Like, I just want my body to be normal, to be healthy like all the people you model with. I feel like nothing I do or eat or wear makes my body look how I want it to look, and no matter how much I try it’s so hard for me to see the beauty of what you see in it.”

And finally you can’t bear looking at him anymore, so you squeeze your eyes shut and turn away

Much to his credit, he pulls you in and nestles your head against his chest, letting your tears and snot wet his tank top

“Oh hun, is that all this is?”

You roll your eyes and try to pull back from his chest, but he doesn’t allow it as he simply holds you there, shushing you and rocking you back and forth

“Kiri, that’s a pretty big thing for me.”

“I know, but…why are you so concerned about how they look anyways? I mean, that’s their job, right? To look good for pictures!”

“I don’t understand,” your voice comes out muffled against his shirt.

“What I’m saying is,” he chuckles and soothes a hand through your hair, “is that you shouldn’t compare yourself to people that have nothing to do with your daily life. Like, you wouldn’t compare yourself to a firefighter right? ‘Cuz thats their job, to save people, not yours. Similarly with models and shit, that’s their job to look good. You didn’t sign up to be a model, so you shouldn’t stress yourself to look like them. Plus, it’s not like it has any affect on what kind of person you are on the inside, you feel me? I’ve met some pretty nasty and rude people with killer bodies, but can you guess how much respect I had for them?”

You nod slowly, still not fully grasping his confusing logic but sort of getting the underlying meaning to it

“But it’s hard not to compare my body to theirs when you’re constantly around them.” You admit. “It feels like I’m not good enough either to be next to you when I’m just sitting on my ass, not doing anything” You grip his shirt and let the last of your tears out, accepting his soft and heavy hands stroking against your back and up and down your shoulders

“So? Do you ever see Sero or Denki modeling next to me? Or Mina and Jirou?”

He did have a point.

“No,” you say slowly.

“Exactly, because models and bodybuilders have a job to dedicate themselves to a life of working out. They do it because that’s what a majority of their life goes to get paid for. It’s all superficial, that’s not how the average person is, like the friends I mentioned. Otherwise the whole world would be full of people walking around with ripped abs and giant pecs. Could you imagine some lanky dude like Denki sporting a 12-pack and ripped pecs?”

“Hell no,” you laugh breathlessly, the image so horrifying to you both that you feel the vibrations of his boisterous laughter rumble through you and soothe your emotions.

“Now you’re getting it,” he speaks into your hair, the smell of your shampoo flooding his senses and getting him dizzy along with a treacherously rising boner

“Plus, what kind of man would I be if I picked my girl out just because of the way she looked? I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re beautiful-no, beautiful can’t even begin to describe you. Your palms feel so soft compared to mine, your arms are so beautiful when my hands are wrapped around them, your thighs are just the right size, your stomach is such a comfy pillow for me to lay on, and don’t forget your plush, slick, tight pu-“ he rambles on and you can’t help but yelp and clap a hand over his overworked mouth as his shower of body positivity starts turning more lewd…attesting to the bulge you begin to feel pressing against your leg.

But it’s funny, you can’t seem to find yourself being mad at him as your face flushes and you see not ill-intent and perverseness in his warm eyes, but pure and honest devotion to you and to the words he truly means

It softens your heart, and you use a finger from the hand smushing against his mouth to lift and stroke the side of his cheek, conveying your gratitude to him.

It seems he understands, as he takes his forced moment of silence with patience and just looks at you, hoping this time you could really see what he felt for you.

“The thing is,” he says after a minute, gently taking your hand away and turning you around so that you both were facing the mirror, “I love you because of who you are. If I wanted to date some model, I would’ve done it by now, trust me,” and you swat your hand against his chest as he stifles a laugh and turns you to look at your own reflection in the mirror.

“I didn’t take you just for your body. I took you because of the way you smile, the way your laugh is so soft sometimes and then all roudy and crazy and loud the next. I love you because of how passionate you talk about the things you like, the way you deal with problems, the way you treat others. All these things make me want you, so damn bad.”

He lightly rocks his hips into your backside so you can really feel how much he wants you, and you let out a soft gasp

He doesn’t let you move, however, he just holds one wrist in his meaty palm and holds your jaw in the other, positioning you so that you meet his wondrous gaze in the clear reflection.

He knew he was never known to be the smartest in his class, having Bakugo drag him by the teeth to pass class itself, so he hoped you could overlook his lack of vocabulary that so desperately was trying to tell you that loving you went even beyond anything he could barely articulate.

Leaning towards your ear, his breath tickles your lobe as his sharp teeth graze over your goosebump-riddled flesh.

“And if it takes all night to show you how much you and your perfect body mean to me, I’ll gladly take out any words that don’t do the job and show you physically how I feel. And just the way you are, too.”

If there’s one man who could not give one less of a fuck about how dainty, small, feminine, or easy to handle you may or not be, it’s the birdman himself: Hawks

Running errands with him when he allowed it was hell, though it should’ve been a paradise you felt owed for.

It was bad enough that when you hesitantly asked him what would look good enough to wear when you walked next to him as the Number Two hero’s captive girlfriend, he merely shrugged and said “Whatever you want.”

Which was not of any help, due to his excessive mood swings and possessiveness spiking at the most seemingly harmless things, such as you talking to the checkout worker at a branded store, wearing a skirt that he deemed was for “sluts who put out for attention”, or even not looking directly at him enough when he was talking to you.

So just to play it safe, you decided to wear jeans and a cute blouse, one that you thought did well for your figure and yet remained modest enough for Keigo’s liking.

He gave you a warning look before opening the door outside, silently telling you to behave yourself in public

You always did, of course.

It was never enough to keep him less suspicious of you regardless.

Deciding to bag some groceries first, he kept a tight grip with your hand as you both inconspicuously tried to navigate the winding back alleys, avoiding people and waiting in intervals to pass the street

He had a black cap on with a red feather embroidered at the top, sunglasses and a beige and white jacket that had a high collar for covering his face-you might be lucky to have the freedom to wear what you wanted to a certain extent but Hawks wasn’t so lucky

His wings, of course, couldn’t be concealed regardless of what he wore

The two of you luckily manage to snag a few stores here and there, the groceries in both his and your arms weighing down on your bodies, his feathers doing little aid to help when his wings started sagging under the bulk as well

Which is where you both were finally caught by a gaggle of fangirls

You passed the cafe they gathered around outside, and barely had time to register their squints of suspicion at Hawks and his poorly-shrunken vermillion wings before you heard squeals of recognition coming from their group a couple feet back

He swore under his breath, crushing your hand in a death grip and attempting to speed up further away from them

But the Number Two hero wasnt fast enough for his own good, this time

It was almost inhuman how quickly they caught up to you and swarmed around, effectively cutting you two off from trying to escape

They shoved papers, phones, various body parts and markers in his face, trying to get him to sign each and every article they had on themselves

And poor you were caught in the midst of it, being carelessly jostled around as each girl tried to force her way closer to him

The volume of their excited devotion and praise of him was making your head hurt, and you wondered how Hawks was managing to put up such a flawless, easygoing smile and responding to all their questions and comments without having a panic attack or snapping at them

After a minute or two of pure chaos, with the help of numerous feathers the hero-now-victim finished most of the autographs.

“Well, girls, thank you so much for your support and time, but me and my lady should get going now-“

“-wait, that’s your girlfriend?” One asks pointing at you in disbelief

You give her a weak smile and little wave

“Yup, the one and only!” Hawks beams at you with pride, holding you in an endearing headlock

“Wow…you guys are so cute!” Another chimes in after a few moments of silence, and you try your hardest not to fall into your same old patterns, to not embrace your old thoughts and insecurities with such open arms

But old habits die hard, and they certainly aren’t dead yet

Especially when the first girl thrusts a shiny phone at you, fluttering her lashes and baring her teeth in a poor imitation of a smile. “Would you be a dear and take a picture of all of us with him?”

“Uhh, sure, yeah, no problem.” You decide that getting this whole ordeal over quicker would be the best option for you

But as quick as you want this to pass, you can’t help but take an extra second to see the difference in your hands and hers when you take the phone from her hand

While her smooth, small and soft hands are seemingly unmarked, her acrylics accentuating her feminine form, you feel as though your larger ones should hide in shame in comparison

You’re not a slob, not by any means when you go out with him. But what was previously just you feeling comfortable in your own skin of knuckle hair, cuticles here and there, and nails bitten short from the cold stand anxiety of living with such a volatile man starts to turn into a realization of how different you are to these people who are trimmed to perfection

You shake off the sinking feeling in your heart and back up with the phone as the rest of the girls and Keigo line up for posing

The details in the phone camera do nothing to ease your growing timidity

The screen reflects what you see right in front of you- smooth hair, not a frizzy strand in sight blowing with the wind, perfectly manicured hands that are so delicate and small compared to your boyfriends’ gripping his upper arms, desperate to feel the hero’s assets.

They’re all at a perfect height with him too, the heels and boots they wear so easily lining them up at his chest level so they have a perfect view of his pecs and upwards

All of them are so beautiful and uniform, so dainty and careful with themselves. If one of them said that they were dating Hawks, you’d believe that they were worthy of it too

You snap the picture and hand the device over, trying to hide your trembling bottom lip and frigid hands

The girls thank Hawks a plethora of times, give you some once-overs as well as slight sneers and faux waves, and you both head on your way back home again

You’re quiet that night while making dinner

It’s chicken pad thai, one of his favorite dishes handmade by you

No matter how shit you feel your cooking is, he insists you make him a 3 course meal while he takes a shower, leaving a feather behind to watch over you

Usually it’s fine, usually you ignore or absentmindedly swat away the plumage’s less-than-innocent rendezvous trailing around your body, floating behind your neck to tickle you, “accidentally “ falling in your shirt or wedging itself down your pants (no doubt commanded so by Hawks)

But today, it’s silent and still, precariously perched on the edge of the kitchen counter as it observed and picks up the various sounds and vibrations of your movement as you bustle around the kitchen

It picks up on the way you chop the onions a little too aggressively with your large, clumsy fucking hands

Another reminder of how different you are than the average Hawks Fangirl ™

How they sashay and swing their hips around in a perfect circle when approaching him, while you stumble and trip over your own damn feet, the epitome of clumsiness and gracelessness

The feet which never endow heels or boots often because of the height difference it gives you and Keigo, because of the way you try desperately to adorn different slouches and postures to not look so out of place and awkward around him

And while you’re stirring the pasta in its sauce, the feather also picks up on the rhythm of your shattered heart

Shattered so when you remember how the girls sneered at you because you weren’t femme fatale like them, how you just stood there like a fucking mannequin while they cooed well placed praise, and how eloquent sentences flowed from their tongue like honey

You could only wish you ever spoke like they did, or adopted any of their mannerisms that seemed so natural and effortless like them

Your aching heart thudded dully while you scrutinized your miserable self, and flared up into a kicking rate when you realized you shouldn’t even care what your captor or any of his fan girls thinks

In fact, this was all his fault.

You slammed your mixer down, tapping your fingers against the countertop deep on thought

The vibrations the feather picked up was the last straw of its patience, as it alerted its owner to come and address you

Mumbling under your breath at your predicament, you banged around pots and spoons in your anger, failing to notice the plumage silently join its approaching owner, the water from his shower dripping down his wet shoulders and hair

“What’s goin’ on chickadee? It sounds like you’re tryina’ tear down the kitchen.”

You barely spare him a glance over your shoulder as you take in his bare torso, only a towel wrapped around his midriff

“Nothing. Just finishing up dinner,” you mumble.

“It doesn’t sound like nothing. It sounds like your hearts racing a mile a minute. So I’ll ask you again- what are you so upset?”

He yanks a stirring spoon from your hand and uses his grand wings to turn you towards him, a condescending pout on his face as he amusedly takes in your furrowed eyebrows, heated up cheeks and shaking fists.

He wants to keep pushing me? Fine, then I can play his little game

“You wanna know why I’m upset? I’m upset because I’m here against my will, creating problems for myself that I never even wanted in the first place!”

You jab a finger into his chest and his eyes narrow at your impertinent tone.

“Now wait a sec’-“ but you cut him off immediately, nose to nose with him now as you continue to blare at him

“I’m upset because I never feel fucking good enough for my kidnapper. How pathetic is that? Any time I have to beg you on all fours like a fucking dog to go outside I end up regretting it, ‘cause all I see is how flawed I am!”

He’s staring at you with wide eyes now, actually bewildered at the turn your ranting came to. So it’s not just about being kept here against your will, you’re actually upset about not feeling good enough for him?

“Those girls today…they were so perfect and feminine and beautiful and they had such small fucking hands that would fit perfectly in yours like mine never do, and perfectly pedicured feet, and had such pretty voices, fuck, I mean I’d date them too if I were you!”

You ignore the rage and bafflement in his expression, he looks at you like you’re crazy and maybe for the moment you are as you keep mouthing off to him

“So why don’t you, huh? I mean I only go out with you a couple times a year, but you see them almost every day! Girls who have hair that flows like goddamn waterfalls, girls who you could pick up and throw around so easily or at least girls you’re not embarrassed of.”

“I’m clumsy, I can’t walk with grace, I’m not at a height that’s easy for you to look at me with or thats even considered sexy, I probably don’t even weigh anything around you that people would call worthy of being some fit bitch for you!”

At this, you sink to your knees in front of him, almost spent out. You can’t bear for him to see your face, no doubt scrunched up in tears and snot with mussed strands hovering around your face like you just got electrocuted.

Another thing to ridicule yourself about, a fucking crying face. You don’t want him to see another ugly trait about you that he no doubt will snicker about behind your back.

“Isn’t that why you never let me out? Because I’m not cute or good material for tabloids, right? I don’t look good enough or act right for the Number Two hero, and that’s why you’re embarrassed, right? It’s been so long since I tried to last leave so I know you trust me-that means the only reason you hate going out with me and covering yourself up is because you can’t stand to be seen with such a fugly-“

“That’s enough.” His cold voice booms louder than yours, and you startle at that.

“Look at me, Y/N.” The tone at which he speaks leaves no room for argument, but when you continue to look down he snarls and detaches a feather, forcing your head up with it.

“You keep calling yourself all these things, but don’t tell me that moronic is another word you’re gonna add on, right? I mean you can’t possibly be that stupid enough to believe all those things you just said.”

You glare at him, sure that this was just a way for him to get you to shut up.

“I thought living with the Number Two hero would let some intellect rub off on you, but I guess it’s the complete opposite, if anything. Because you seem to have forgotten your place in my house.”

You yelp when suddenly a multitude of other feathers zoom towards you, pulling at your limbs and clothes as they lift you into the air, suspended to a height a couple of feet above Hawks’ eye level.

He just stands there with an eerie smirk on his face as he watches you flail around midair, trying to regain your balance.

“It doesn’t matter if you’re 6’3 and have bigger hands than me.”

With a flick of his finger, the feathers are directed to slam your body into the ground, leaving you wheezing on your back.

“And it doesn’t matter if you’re 4’7 and fall over yourself every time I call for you.”

He stands above you now, hands in his pockets and he smiles down at your curled up body. You look at him cautiously, unsure of what he’s playing at.

“You’re mind because I want you. I want everything about you, your heart, your mannerisms, your soul, your movements-they all belong to me and only me.”

He crouches down to a kneel, gently running a hand through your hair before turning it into a fist and yanking your head up to face him.

“And there isn’t a goddamn thing that’s gonna stop me from having you, when I want, and how I want. You think you have a chance of leaving me, or me leaving you when I, in your words, ‘go out and see beautiful girls like that all the time?’ If I haven’t left you for them by now, I sure as hell never will.”

You decide for now to take the backhanded compliment about being able to leave in silence. In a messed up way, he was proving his loyalty, and right now you needed all the reassurance you could get.

“And why the hell do you care how you look in public anyways, huh? Are you trying to seduce someone?”

You frantically object, and he sneers at your desperation. “Good, because it should only matter what I think, and you wanna know what I think?”

You stare at him wide eyed now as he pulls your head closer to him

“I don’t give a flying fuck if you think you’re some foxy slut or if you feel like a clumsy oaf. Because you wanna know why?”

He starts unzipping his fly with a handy feather, and you mentally berate yourself for pushing him to a point where he has to ‘prove his love’ to you, knowing where this was heading.

“Because when you’re sucking my cock or lying underneath me, it doesn’t matter how tall or short you are. When I tell you to take your clothes off and hump my foot like the good little bitch in heat you are, I don’t care how much you weigh. I’m still choosing you to be my fuckmeat, my obedient play-toy when I want, and I’m doing it with all your ‘flaws’, aren’t I? ”

You cringe when his tongue flicks out against your earlobe and down your jaw, your endeavors of trying to shove him away proving fruitless as he just snarls and bites your neck.

“Even if you think you don’t have the prettiest, smallest, biggest, or smoothest hands, they’re still the hands I’m choosing to play with my balls, yeah? I mean, you should be proud of your fucking sexy and lewd body…look at what it does to me.”

He gestures to his exposed member now which is hard against your thigh. You bite back a whimper as he begins to tear open your shirt with one free hand as the other slips down your pants.

“So be a good girl and show me how proud you are of being mine.”

[ftm-radio]

I try to keep this blog mostly positive, because for the most part being trans is great and I want to spread the joy of self discovery and self realization and everything, but man.. there are some really rough bits that stick with ya when you spend half your life (or most of it, in my case!) feeling just that vague sense of something is not right and I don't know what's wrong and I'm definitely not okay with this but I don't know how to make it better

so with that in mind, I have some thoughts & feelings I wanna get out there, so there will be some good ol' trans angst under the cut 👉🏻👉🏻

cw: angst, depression, dysphoria, you know how it is. a couple chest mentions in there too. also it's long and pretty ramble-y, probably some level of melodramatic.

if you read all this, it's fine if you wanna reply or send me an ask with your thoughts or w/e. I know I can't be the only one feeling all this...

I could not give you an accurate estimate for when I started feeling Not Right, but I know it was definitely in full swing right before I started high school. 7th–8th grade was like.. the start of my depression spiral, lmao, but I don't wanna get deep into that in this post.

no, what I keep thinking about is what came after the depression and dysphoria and feeling wrong-ness, like

the discomfort I still have with my body,

the distanced relationships, the loneliness, &

just the years and years that I've missed out on.

I am almost 23 years old, and I'm only just now feeling like this body might be mine and might be a home for me one day. Some days it all fits perfectly and I feel great! Other days these limbs feel alien and disconnected when I try to move, and seeing my face in the mirror hurts.

I feel like I spent 20 years afraid to use this body, afraid to move, afraid to be seen in it. I kept myself coiled up as tight as I could so that I wouldn't attract attention and have anyone else find out how wrong this all was.

Dysmorphia, dysphoria, they blend together so well I still can't separate them. did I stop showering in 8th grade because I didn't want to see my big stomach, or because I couldnt bear the sight of my chest? was I hyper-aware of how often I raised my arms because of the way my upper arms jiggled with fat, or because keeping them down meant that my chest was maybe slightly less prominent? did I feel ugly because I was fat or because I didn't look like a boy? does it even matter now that the damage is done?

I have to learn about my body like it's a stranger's, like I'm a ghost familiarizing myself with the house I have to haunt, and I have to learn how to be okay with it, how to accept the parts I can't change or that'll take a lot of time to change. and I just have to wait (and hope) for the day that I don't have to think about inhabiting this body and I can just be here and live my life and be okay.

and feeling uncomfortable in my body for most of my life was such a distraction! how was I supposed to be a person and do things and interact with the world and everybody in it when my only connection to it felt wrong? I couldn't do anything without worrying about how my body looked when I did it and what people saw or thought.

I had a few friends growing up. I have a few friends now. but I've always kept them at arm's length, pretty literally. I've almost never hugged my friends, never rough-housed, never really experienced casual platonic intimacy. hell, I haven't even had those affections with my family. I've shared a room with two of my sisters my whole life and I'm too awkward to give or accept hugs from them no matter how much I want to.

and I want to. I want to feel connected to the people around me, to touch and be touched, to feel comforted and grounded in this world, to feel human. but I can't because this body just doesn't feel right to me, and what if I hug my friends & family and it doesn't feel right to them either?

I'm alone in a house full of people. I'm here but I'm hollow. I'm a ghost, a phantom, a trick of the light. if you try and touch me your hand might pass right through. if, by chance, you do meet something solid, the shape of it might disturb you. it disturbs me most of the time.

so many years spent starving myself of affection. now that im aching for it and finally ready to let myself know it, I don't know how to ask for it. and of course this isn't the only thing I've missed throughout my life.

there's so much, it's overwhelming. almost 23 years in this body and I feel like I haven't done anything with it. some days I feel like I'm still a teenager because there are so many things I haven't done, so many things I don't know how to do. some days I feel like I'm ancient because I'm so drained, so tired.

so much of my life has been spent waiting for something to appear on the horizon and, idk, give me hope? give me the ability to feel like a person again? I don't know. I don't know what I've been waiting for.

I know exactly what I've been waiting for.

but the things I've been waiting for won't just appear one day. I have to get them myself, and I've been working to do that ever since I found out who I really am. and I'm getting there, I'm making progress, and I am so, so proud of where I've gotten myself.

but if I stop to think about it all, there's just so much despair, and anger, and regret hiding just under the surface. it's a fucking angst volcano that's almost constantly threatening to erupt.

like how much better off would I be if I had figured all of this out years ago? if I had just stopped waiting and tried to find what I needed when I was still a kid, before I just spiraled and became horribly depressed for eight years? what if the people in my life who were supposed to take care of me & look out for me had seen what I couldn't recognize and had helped me figure it out instead of letting me drown in it for eight fucking years? what if I had actually had access to the knowledge that could have given me the answers I needed, could have helped me find the right questions? what if I was one of those kids who knew I wasn't a girl right away and I didn't have to wonder? what if I hadn't let my confusion and discomfort hold me back and I had lived my life instead of letting it all waste away?

what if?

I love being trans. I love knowing who I am.

but I don't love this.

I know I can't change the past. I hope I stop wanting to, someday. but I don't know what to do until that day comes.

how do you heal from heartbreak like this?

the answer is probably "time," right? figures.

I guess that means I'm back to waiting. But at least I have things to do in the meantime.

[sleepingdeath-light]

I would love a match up for Black butler!

She/her pronouns. I am demisexual. I am straight.

Personality: I am highly empathic and can read people extremely well. I have been called a witch for my capabilities in the past. I prefer a good book to conversation most times and I tend to lean toward introversion. I am an INFJ with a spark for the arts. I tend to lean towards being easy to talk to and as such become the person to go to when insight is needed. Numbers are not my strong suit but I spend a great deal of time learning as much as I can. When I walk into a room I am told I command it with ease just with my presence. I have severe childhood trauma and PTSD that hinders me from achieving all that I want to do in life. Some call me adaptive and strong, I just prefer to call it creativity with a twist. My love languages are physical touch and words of affirmation though with my past they can be triggers.

Interests: reading is my life’s blood. Anything regarding romance, supernatural, mystery, sci-fi or just random facts/ interests I will gobble down. I love horseback riding in my free time . Writing is a passion as well as singing. I enjoy witty banter and deep conversation that goes beyond the surface. Taking a bath with candles is soothing to my soul.

I would love someone to ground me, even me out so to speak. Cover what I cannot do on my own while I watch his back as well. The second being I adore eyes that are deep and soulful, it lets me know there’s so much more to them then what appears. Thirdly, has a appreciation for what I do and the level at which I commit to them and helping them.

Hate to see: perversion, I can’t stand it. Secondly, being verbally abused. Thirdly, being shamed for something I cannot control.

I am a brunette with deep blue eyes and a thin hourglass figure with hair to my waist in waves. I struggle with body dysmorphia that messes with my head on occasion. A nick name I go by is Amara as it means many good things in several languages. My favorite being love.

Thank you my friend for this!!! I’m so excited!

Match Up | Black Butler (1)

thank you for participating, echo!

i match you with ciel phantomhive.

Ciel Phantomhive

ciel has been shown to be a very logical and methodical person, following along with the stereotypes and social expectations of his era. thus, he would definitely be able to balance out your empathetic and creative nature with his own calm demeanour and his rather imposing presence.

furthermore, ciel would be incredibly empathetic to your trauma and triggers, committing anything of importance to memory so that he’s able to be affectionate with you without the risk of triggering you. he is also very easily triggered by touch because of his own traumas, so he’d be very quick to understand, adapt and work with you to find a solution that allows ways for you to be intimate with one another whilst staying safe.

other notes:

ciel would require intense loyalty from his spouse, so your ability to watch his back and even out his energy would be invaluable to the earl—it gives you both an advantage as a couple and means that it would be easier to introduce you to your new life as the wife of the earl phantomhive

likewise your ability to control and command a room with your presence would be incredibly beneficial to the… let’s say less than social aristocrat. this means that you’d be the one to organise galas and balls, welcome guests and oversee the publicity stunts done by his company and his estate

though he wouldn’t push you too far from your comfort zone and is able to organise them himself if you need to rest

this combined with your ability to read people so well would basically make you a dream team with your husband as you’d be able to help him make beneficial deals for funtom and tell if anyone poses a genuine threat to himself or your household.

overall, your unique abilities and talents would be helpful to ciel from a business and general standpoint and he’d make sure to show his appreciation however and whenever he could

he’ll buy you entire libraries of books for you to read, walls lined from edge to edge - top to bottom - with works from your favourite authors and genres (as well as some he believes will interest you)

he’ll bring you supplies and ideas with which you can write, even providing you with your own personal study that you can use

he’d buy you the finest horse for you to ride, likely perusing dozens upon dozens of reputable breeders until you find one suited to your needs—providing everything you and your new pet would need as well

on top of that, after stressful or otherwise long days, ciel will have sebastian run you a hot bath and provide you with fresh, scented candles in which you can relax - himself following you in to help soothe your muscles with massages and calming affirmations (if you were in a place to accept them, of course)

furthermore, he’d even find singing lessons if you desired them or play his violin whilst you sing as an excuse to bond with you when you’re both not otherwise busy (you with organising events and making connections and him with his business and missions for the queen)

to note, although he makes an effort to hide or otherwise bury his emotions, his eyes give a lot away if you look close enough - and if you’re able to read him, that would likely lead to a relationship built on mutual understanding, empathy and an openness he wouldn’t so easily show to others

ciel is most likely to call you “amara”, “darling” or “my love”

[bedbellyandbeyond]

Dinner at the Demers

(Story Post)

“Here we are,” Fay said pulling up the driveway. He parked and smiled to Theo. “Let me get your door.” “I got it,” Theo chuckled, opening his door and getting out himself. As his case worker, Fay had been helping Theo a lot with talking out his feelings around his pregnancy. The merman was more than friendly and Theo always felt comfortable around him, even when it came to very personal things like body dysmorphia or feelings of loneliness. Theo had found that he and Fay had a few things in common, like the fact that they'd both left home to pursue their careers. After just a few sessions with him, Theo liked to consider the merman his friend and was very happy to be invited over to his place for dinner. “Thanks for having me,” Theo said as he followed Fay to the front door. “I don't get out much, especially now.” “It's no problem,” Fay said. “Dari was glad to hear you were coming. He has a habit of taking group members in under his wing. Camilo's like a son to him now.”

“I'm pretty sure I'm older than Dari…” Theo said. “You're the same age actually,” Fay stated. Theo blinked. “He's thirty?!” “Looks can be deceiving,” Fay said. “He looks like he's twenty at most,” Theo stated. “Is he aging backwards?” “It's a little complicated but it isn't my place to explain,” Fay said. “Let's just say his body needs time to catch up.” “Okay, but, like…” Theo rubbed his neck. “I'm gonna have a hard time not thinking about that.” “If you get him in the right mood, Dari will tell you whatever,” Fay assured. “Anyway, we eat a lot of fish in this household, but I understand someone in your condition might prefer something safer so we also have chicken. What do you prefer?” “Oh, fish is fine,” Theo said. “Dr. Aias said there really isn't any diet restrictions for me, so long as I eat healthy for myself. I can smoke and drink if I want. The baby's not going anywhere. I don’t smoke. Haven’t really touched alcohol either… Still feels kinda wrong.” “Fair enough,” Fay unlocked the door and let them inside. “Oh, don't let the cat out.” “Huh?” Theo looked down to try and see if any animals were at his feet but he then realised he couldn't see his feet at all and a second later, a cat dashed out from under him and onto the porch. “Ah, sorry Theo, I wasn't thinking,” Fay said. He managed to catch the feline and pick her up. “This is Slippers. She's very curious and friendly.” Theo offered a hand to sniff and then pet the cat on the head. “She's very cute.” “I got her as a gift for Dari a while back,” Fay said. “He's very protective of her so even though we don't get much traffic out here, she's best as an indoor cat.” “Got it.” “Come meet the kids,” Fay said. “Twins should be down for a nap right now, but otherwise, trouble should be about.” It didn't take long until the first few heads popped out to see them. “Papa!” one child yelled, flinging themselves around Fay's waist. Another just stood there and pointed at Theo. “Baby belly!” Theo flushed red. “Uh, yeah...” “Otter, pointing is rude,” Fay said, pushing his son's hand down. “Apologise to my friend Theo.” “Sorry, my friend Theo,” Otter said, still just staring up at the man. “It's fine,” Theo assured. “Siv, mon poussain,” Fay said to the other boy, sliding a hand between his side and his son to pry him off. “Papa can't move if you're hugging so tight.” “I missed you,” Siv whined. “I missed you too,” Fay said, petting his son's head. “Where's Daddy?” “Green room,” Siv said, pointing to the back of the house. “Greenhouse. And your sisters?” “Um... Ari and Kat with Milo and Zoe with Daddy and the babies sleep.” “And do we remember the babies names?” Fay asked. “Um...” “I do!” Otter said quickly. “I know you do,” Fay said patting Otter's head. “I want Siv to remember. They're a little harder.” “Oh.” Siv racked his brain. “Uh, Anna and...” He looked at Otter who was signing to him. “Isa...belle?” “Annabelle and Isabelle, that's right,” Fay approved. “Next time, no cheating. Get your big brother and let's meet in the greenhouse, okay?” Siv looked at Otter and then grabbed his arm. “Specifics... Both of you get your eldest brother, understood?” Fay rephrased. “Yeah!” Otter said, letting go of his father and taking Siv's arm to go get Milo with him. Fay took Theo outside to the back of the house. Theo was immediately impressed by the spacious yard, with a pool as well as a relatively large greenhouse. Inside, there were rows and rows of vegetables and flowers growing. Dari was found between the leaves, dwarfed by his own six-foot-tall tomato plants. Zoe was toddling about at his feet and grabbing any ripe tomatoes she could get her little hands on. Dari looked upset when he heard Fay and Theo entering. “Zoe, tomatoes in the basket, bunny,” he instructed as he pulled off his gardening gloves. Zoe completely ignored him and just kept grabbing tomatoes, ripe or not and trying to put them in her mouth. “My love,” Fay said, stepping up to his husband and wrapping his arms around him. Dari took his sun hat off and wacked Fay over the arm with it. “You should've reminded me Theo was coming over! I would've started dinner early.” “I told you this morning. What more reminders do you need?” Fay asked. “And that's not a jab, I want you to know.” “...Maybe, an hour before you leave work,” Dari said. “It takes two hours to make dinner?” Fay asked. “It can!” Dari said. “It allows me time to prepare. Now a guest will have to wait with us.” Fay kissed his forehead. “I'll make dinner. You can do your thing. Hang out with Theo.” “Hi, Theo,” Dari finally said, acknowledging his guest. “I'm sorry about this.” “You really have nothing to apologise for,” Theo said. “I don't mind waiting to eat. I had a big lunch.” “Come here,” Dari waved Theo over. Theo obeyed, going over to Dari. “Your garden is amazing. I feel like you never have to get groceries.” “That’s the idea,” Dari said, nodding. He hovered a hand over Theo's stomach. “Can I touch?” “Sure. You're not the first.” Dari placed his hand on the protrusion and rubbed softly. “Aliens, right?” “That's right. Though, they’re not big enough to feel or anything…” “I'll go start dinner,” Fay said, leaving them be. “Were you abducted?” Dari asked. Theo shook his head. “No. Well, not really. Not in the traditional sense. I was...visited in my dreams.” “That's different...” Dari pondered. “Different?” Dari took his hand back and patted his own chest. “I was abducted. I had children for the aliens, each ripped from me the moment they were born. Or even before.” Theo frowned. “I'm so sorry... That's terrible.” Dari shrugged. “I don't really...feel anything from it anymore. It's like a part of my life I won't get back so why should I lend it any feelings?” “I mean, I guess that's good...” Theo considered. Dari suddenly lifted his own shirt, revealing his slightly distended and scarred stomach. “You see this ‘X’ scar? They implanted an artificial womb inside me and a ‘gamete converter’, which basically steals my DNA and turns it into egg cells... In a way, I stole it from them... I was able to make my children with it, so...it's like...not all bad.” “...Why are you telling me all this?” Theo asked. Dari pulled his shirt back down. “I don't do well in groups but when I heard your situation, I knew I had something in common and I feel like everyone needs people they can relate to for support. I want you to know that I'm here and, at least on the non-consensual alien pregnancy level, I understand more than most people will ever understand.” Theo smiled a bit. “Oh. Thank you. I guess you're right.” “If there's ever anything I can help you with, don't hesitate to contact me,” Dari said. “And don't for a second think you have to forgive them for doing this to you. I haven't.” Theo nodded slowly. “...Um, so Fay mentioned you and I are the same age?” Dari tilted his head. “Are you thirty?” Theo nodded. “You just... You look so young.” Dari put his hands on his hips. “Why, cause I'm short?” “No, well, um...” Dari looked away and started meddling with some cucumber. “I was abducted when I was fifteen. This thing inside me synthesised a chemical similar to estrogen so I didn't really have a chance to finish puberty until I got back... I'm on hormone therapy now. I was supposed to be, ever since I got back, but I couldn't really do it while pregnant five times, could I?” “Five times?” Theo asked. “I thought you have eight kids.” “Twins exist, Theo,” Dari said. “Fay carried Otter and Milo was born well before I got back to Earth.” “But, wouldn’t that—” Theo was cut off when a big red beast of a person came bounding outside carrying two little girls with him and with Siv and Otter at his heels. They came inside and the small children immediately dispersed to go look at the plants and pick anything that looked ripe enough to eat off the stem. The giant red man went directly to the adults and loomed over them, his head nearly brushing the ceiling. Theo was shocked beyond belief and froze up immediately. “Milo, my biggest boy!” Dari cooed wrapping his arms around his son's waist. He was two or three heads shorter than Milo and could barely see above his chest. “Milo, this is Theo. He's a friend.” Milo put the girls down and waved to Theo, before signing to his father. “Milo says he really likes your hair,” Dari said. “I think it's because it's a colour he can actually see well. He’s a bit colour blind.” “Oh, um. Tell him thanks for me?” Theo requested. “Tell him yourself. He can hear you, he just can't speak like us,” Dari explained, happily patting Milo's chest. “He's my big growly boy...” “Oh! Okay, thanks Milo,” Theo said, running a hand through his own hair. “I need to dye it again soon though.” Milo nodded, smiling and signed again. “He thinks you look cool with the roots,” Dari said. “It’s almost like Fay and Ari’s hair. You’re like an honorary merperson.” Theo smiled. “Thanks, but I think Fay pulls off two colours much better than I do. It’s not even blended.” Milo signed again to Dari but Dari didn’t translate and just signed back. Milo looked a little upset and then signed again. “Milo wants to compliment you on your pregnancy,” Dari said. “I told him it might not be appropriate but he insisted.” “That's cool. Thanks, Milo,” Theo said, trying to stay calm in front of the seven-foot-tall red man. “How um, how old is he?” “Twelve or thirteen, we think,” Dari said. “Hard to say.” “You don't know?” Theo asked. “Yeah, well... They weren't really handing out Earth calendars aboard the sex trafficking space ship, so I really don't know when he was born,” Dari said. “We use the day that he came home to us as his birthday.” “That's really... That's some crazy stuff that happened to you, Dari,” Theo said. “I'm so sorry.” “Don't be. It was years ago.” “But really, you talk about it so casually. You know, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to.” Dari patted Theo’s shoulder. “It happened. It was terrible. It's left me physically, mentally and emotionally scarred for life. But that's all it is. Scars. I can't do much about it. All you can really try to do with scars is put lotion on them or tattoo over them. I'm tired of doing that, so I just wear them. The nightmares come less and less. My physical scars don't hurt anymore. When I tell my story, I can detach myself from it. I don't let it bother me.” He patted Theo's cheek. “Oh, but if it bothers you, I won't talk about it.” “Oh, no, no. I don't mind,” Theo said. “Thank you for opening up.” Dari sighed and put his hands on his hips. “Of course, you don't have to share either if you don't want to. But I am curious... You weren't abducted, but you also don't strike me as the type of guy who hangs around alien bars. No, wait. You mentioned dreams? How does that work?” “It's kind of embarrassing...” Theo said. Dari lifted his own shirt and patted his stomach. “Looking four months pregnant for the rest of your life is embarrassing.” Theo proceeded to tell Dari everything, how the celestial apparently impregnated him in his dreams and how on the first day, he grew so rapidly. Dari listened intently and when he was done, offered up his sympathy and advice. Theo mentioned Henderson, but only as a friend helping him out. He didn't mention that they'd slept together because he still didn't know what it meant yet. They chatted a little more for a while until it was dinner time and they headed on inside. Theo enjoyed his time at the Demers house. The food was good and there was nothing but energy in the dining room as they ate. Siv took a liking to Theo in particular and spent most of the meal telling him about his favourite frog he found the other day. Fay later expressed to his guest how delighted he was to see Siv opening up so easily with Theo since he was apparently the shiest child. This made Theo feel quite a bit better about having to listen to ‘hop hop hop’ and ‘ribbitty ribbit’ over and over. At the end of the night, Fay drove him home. He welcomed Theo to their house any time and Fay would be happy to drive. Theo thanked him for hosting him and then got himself ready for bed. He was exhausted from just being around so many children at one time and was very glad that he would not be dealing with anything like that for himself any time soon.

[starryeyedrogue]

so, I could use some advice...

this’ll probably be a long post again (rip), but here’s a summary (I’ll do more details below the break). I’ve been friends with a particular group of people for about 11 or so years, basically half my life. we used to be super close, now we never talk. I have pictures up in my room (and other mementos), and I’m considering taking them down. should I?

ok, here’s more details. I’ll use letters for their names for their privacy; I’ve also blocked them on here in case they see it. I’m not dissing on them!! I love them, but this is a brutally honest summary of how they act (since the beginning, really). 

G - very dramatic, always doing stunts for attention. once posted on FB that they’d kill themselves because they weren’t getting enough attention while we were talking and while I offered help. I’ve always done my best to help them, but they lash out. I keep trying, get hurt, and they curse me out and make more emo posts about how no one even cares about them. it’s a horribly painful cycle, but I’ve never given up. on a good day, they’re wicked funny and fun to be around until they do that stuff for publicity. they also make fun of my religion and how I feel about certain things (not even politics, just my interests).

A - my so-called best friend. super sweet and well-meaning, but never sticks up for me or anyone else in the group. love them to death, but I’ve recently learned is fake. they’ve always tried to help me, but never more than “I’m here for you.” they don’t check up on me and ignore me when I check on them. I recently asked them to look at something for me and they pretended they did, even after I deleted what I asked them to look at -- clearly faking it.

Ki - super bubbly and the blonde stereotype, but super fun to be around. also fake. does her best to listen to advice but always does dangerous stuff “to be quirky.” super toxic and makes fat jokes/”I’m so fat ugh” type things when she’s the thinnest of all of us (I’m on the bigger side and she’s a ballet dancer in her free time)

Ka - another drama queen. we used to have a lot of stuff in common and have fun hanging out, but ditched us (the entire group) on high school graduation day (5 years ago) and hasn’t tried to hang out since. still occasionally messages us, but it’s always super short. once said I was too fat/my boobs were too big to do something I really wanted to do (ballet) when I was in 4th grade. I’ve had body dysmorphia since then. 

okay, here’s the gist: I love these folks to death and I’m always trying to help them and get them to hang out/get together, but they all ghost me. we used to do everything together and talk for hours after school. they were there for most of my life, so I never really made other friends (I’m kind of socially awkward anyway). we had tons in common (or so I thought) but they ignore every message I send, literally leaving me on read or changing the subject if they do reply. my room is covered in pictures of us together, stuff we made together (paintings, old notes, etc.), and stuff I’ve gotten from them for birthdays/Christmas. I miss them so so much but I also know how toxic they all are (different levels but still). what should I do? should I take down my mementos and cut my losses? or should I leave it up in hopes we do stuff again and keep sending them things (over the group chat) that I think they’d like or be interested in? the last time we talked was the beginning of August, and before that it was my birthday (July 7th). basically it’s been ages since we’ve talked, no matter how hard I try. the last meaningful/long conversation we had was the beginning of June. I really miss them, but I know I need to move on. they never really tried to reach out or be very nice to me anyway; they all ignored my cries for help when I was depressed. I didn’t feel comfortable telling them gritty details, but they never tried to help outside of “same lol, we all need therapy. rip you” type stuff. 

sorry that was so long, but I’d really appreciate advice!! totally lost here. 

[babsbabushka]

Dysphoria?

CW: // brief mention of mental health; discussions of gender and potential dysphoria (derealization) (depersonalization) (dissociation) (body dysmorphia)

20/afab/USA - I genuinely cannot tell whether or not I'm trans and/or non-binary and whether or not I actually experience dysphoria.  Sometimes it seems like a lot of the trans/enby people I know and follow have a fairly clear sense of who they're supposed to be.  I feel like I have absolutely no sense of it.  I've never felt like my body was my own.  It feels like someone else's. And that’s usually fine, I guess.  I'm extremely privileged to be generally perceived as an attractive female.  And I usually don't think my body is ugly.  I just don't feel like it's mine.  I don't look like me.  And when I look at most men, they don't look like me either.  And most non-binary people also don't look like me.  When I look at most photos of myself, I just look wrong and uncomfortable.  I look like I'm wearing a suit that doesn't quite fit.  I'm not very quick to adjust my identity, partially because I have many known and some suspected but as of yet unidentified mental health issues.  I know there's a high risk of me mistaking some other chronic discomforts for gender dysphoria.  It's not like I'm absolutely miserable in my body.  I also don't feel overly restricted by my predetermined social roles.  And I don't have a lot of trauma and none that I associate with my gender.  I've just never felt right.  I don’t know what it would mean to feel like a man or a woman and I don’t think I experience the extreme levels of discomfort that many (obviously not all) trans people experience.  There just exists in me a constant, nagging sense that I'm in an unnatural form, and then some deep sadness resulting from it.  But Heck, maybe that’s just being human.

Regardless, I've spent many years playing around with my identity and presentation, trying to find where I fit.  Experimented fairly masc to very femme and basically everything in between and outside that binary.  My private and personal gender identity has fluctuated a couple times since I started struggling with it when I was about 13 (not sure what it means that it became a problem around puberty).  But I only ever told a couple people (friends) about it each time because I was waiting to see if it would stick.  As far as presentation goes, I guess I feel the most myself when I'm covered up and I can't see myself and when I'm not physically restricted and therefore can't feel myself.  Sometimes I'll have a good day and feel alright in something different than that but not often.  The appearance of my chest and shoulders in sleeveless tops makes me uncomfortable.  I can’t stand being touched intimately by anyone except for myself, especially on or near my stomach (but I do have a diagnosed sensory processing difficulty).  When I think about it, the idea of medically transitioning is not super desirable to me, or at least not desirable enough to make up for the potential downsides right now, as I'm not sure of myself.  And besides, what would I even transition to??

I am receiving lots of treatment and support with regard to my mental health struggles and I've gone through many different states of feeling and being in the past years, some better and some worse.  But, in general, this particular discomfort has remained.  I don't know what or who I am.  I just know what I'm not.  Is this just how it's going to be?  I'm working on centering myself in my body, loving and caring for myself in all ways, and continuing my mental health treatment.  Is this all I can do?  Or is there some way I may be able to adjust my identity and/or presentation to become more comfortable?  Does anyone have advice or similar feelings they'd like to share?  I would appreciate anything you've got. 

(I currently identify privately as non-gendered and prefer they/them pronouns. I do not currently identify as trans. I pass as a woman in most situations.)

[nurseofren]

TW: body dysmorphia, body talk, binge eating, disordered eating, my mother, fatphobia, depression, weight mention

It runs deep and it starts so early.

I feel I should write this without generalizing, as I think body dysmorphia/binge eating/eating disorders are very personal and individual experiences, so I don’t want to group anyone into this.

So I guess I’ll start off with why I felt the need to get this out of my head: eating.

Eating hasn’t been an experience focused around nourishing my body in a long time. Eating is something very touchy for me. It has been even more so this past year. And I’ll get into that.

But I’ll just describe it as how it feels right now. It’s like this big secret. It’s something shameful. It’s something to hide. Because no matter the portion size, it feels like I’m doing something wrong.

“You are all of that?”

“Do you feel sick? You didn’t take that much food.”

As someone who detrimentally tried to please everyone, who tries to read the room and scope out the correct action, it’s been very confusing.

I have to bring up my mother. Because as much as I wish one issue didn’t involve her, I’m finding that’s true very little of the time.

She cooks for the family. Always has. And I was scorned for not eating something. Even if I didn’t like it, it would always end in “you are a stubborn child. You are a picky eater. You’ll eat what I make or you can make a peanut butter sandwich. I just suck, don’t I? Why do I even bother?”

So it’s confusing as a grown woman living with her parents — a situation I’m working toward changing soon, hoping for next Fall — to be told that i don’t have to clear my plate. And then I can not eat something and I’ll still get the aforementioned comments, but it’s not forced on me like it was when I was young.

It’s these learned behaviors that were expected of me at a young age that fester and leave me vulnerable to fits of BD, BE.

And then there’s another level to it.

“No we’re not getting [fast food establishment], none of us (i. e. my family who is fat) need that anyway”

“You only need a super small piece, it’s so rich”

“Those clothes weren’t made for big girls”

*justification of eating a meal because a prior meal was skipped*

“Those shorts look a little tight”

“Big girls shouldn’t do cheerleading, it’s embarrassing”

“No we’re not getting dessert! None of us need it, anyway!”

My mother is fat. I’m fat. I grew up fat with a fat mother. But I grew up fat with a fat mother who hates herself. Who called herself ugly and depreciated herself every chance she got. I grew up in a house where it was expected to cover your body, to wear baggy clothes, to buy clothes because they fit and not because you liked them.

And I could go on a full tangent on how this runs even deeper. How my mother views herself as a lost cause, who deems herself unlovable or unworthy of being loved because of her body — and how, ultimately, I never learned how to take care of myself because she never took care of herself.

Calling women high maintenance because they got their nails done, because they scheduled hair appointments, because they bought shoes and clothes they loved more than once bi-annually. And as a kid, I obviously wanted to believe my mother.

So I saw these women with pretty painted nails, and I saw them with their daughters who were my age, I saw these pretty girls with the nice nails and the skill in makeup, and I thought I was above them. But really I was just so buried under the self hatred of someone else that I didn’t see that those people did those things because they cared what they looked like, that they saw it was important to take care of themselves in a way that let them feel good.

And I was jealous. I was jealous because my mother never taught me how to paint my nails. Angry that I wasn’t worth the time for her to learn how to braid. Jealous of these other girls who tanned and were always polished. And then there was always me, biting my nails off every week in the shower because I didn’t know how to trim my nails.

But anyway, see I knew I’d tangent off w that topic, I have a very interesting relationship with my own body. Now.

I truthfully didn’t start really actively taking care of myself until early this year. I’d go months without shaving. I had no skin care routine. I would go days without brushing my teeth (which honestly is my very prominent sign of depression, when I stop brushing at all when I have nowhere to go and I’m still working on changing that).

In short, my outward appearance was very much for someone who loved me. And I never had one, so I didn’t see the point in keeping up with these routines. Why should I take care of my body if nobody is caring for it?

And last year I’d lost some weight by changing my diet, so people complimented that. And it just cemented to me that people only care about you when you’re smaller. People only positively notice you when you are skinny or slimming down.

So. I gained that weight back. I accidentally weighed myself at work last week and had it confirmed. I’m at my heaviest in probably two years. And I don’t feel shame for the number, or even the appearance of my body, but what really grates against me is eating.

There’s two sides to the nagging — the one that tells me to eat because I’m too far gone and it’ll be impossible to lose 120 pounds and find the elusive happiness that supposedly comes with that. And then there’s the side that angrily screams at me while I’m thinking of food, while I’m hungry, while I’m getting food, while I’m eating food, that just mentally beats me to a pulp.

“Maybe you’re a virgin who’s never been loved because you’re such a disgusting pig”

“If you don’t eat that, you’ll lose weight faster”

“If you start today, you could be at the BMI approved weight this time next year.”

“Just take a nap, you can’t be hungry while you sleep”

“Just eat smaller portions so you can shrink your stomach and decrease your appetite”

It’s just so exhausting. Having food be a salve, but having food also be the root of the issue.

Existing as a fat person in friend groups where they stand around and call their BMI approved bodies fat and disgusting. Hearing people fear fatness on a daily basis. Working with a preceptor who was grossly interested when my large patient wanted to weigh himself, like she was so involved in the situation because she viewed his size as shameful. Hearing her and another skinny friend go through photos of their high school classmates and act so disgusted and say “she blew up. She got big” about someone they graduated with.

It’s just all of these things. And then I accidentally take a video of my body when I’m taking risqué pics (😅😉) and looking at myself and…. Loving my body so much.

Knowing I’m at my heaviest in a while, and seeing my belly and curves and legit loving them. And seeing my body as this beautiful thing. This soft, cozy being worthy of love and affection and attention.

And then I hear these things. Everything mentioned above and I’m just “I’m not supposed to love my body because I am fat and there is no love for the fat girl”.

And there’s always been this forefront of a thought that I can be loved….. once I lose the weight. I can be loved…. after I’m below a size 12. I’m allowed to be shown affection and kindness….. when I’m thin.

It’s always been there. I never expected attention because I never deemed myself worthy of it. I still don’t most days. I’ve grown comfortable moving in the background of others’ lives because i am not a positive presence in my fat body.

No matter how kind. No matter how funny. No matter how smart. I am simultaneously too much and never enough for society. So I do not deserve those things thin people get without thought. Obviously.

So it’s all very heavy (hahahaha). I love my body, I really do, but I don’t deem it worthy of affection or desire. I complicate eating because obviously I’m fat and don’t need regular nourishment as the current fat existing on my body will be my sustenance because that’s how science works.

I’m trying to work on it. I’m trying to deem myself worthy of good things. Of food, of exercise not centered around changing my body, of clothes I’ve forever been told is “not for big girls”.

I’m trying. I am. But that’s where I am. Hopefully, if anyone has made it this far, I’ve made sense and perhaps made life a little less lonely for some people.

[marshmallowprotection]

If lila wasn’t shipped with saeran, who would you ship her with (if you would ship her with anyone)

I've asked for this a couple of times. There's a whole scenario where Seven pines after her in a reality where Minji and Judas don't exist. There is a scenario I've wrote before where I swapped my ships, meaning Seven x Lila & Minji x Saeran x Judas just for kicks. I think there's definitely a lot of potential that you can play around with in those scenarios.

I suppose if you're talking about who I think she would pair with well if she was not paired with Saeran. I think from a personality standard and knowing what she's like, she's most compatible with Jumin or Zen. She's actually close friends with Jumin in most timelines, she just enjoys talking to him and he's so levelheaded. He always listens to what she has to say and she's not used to people taking her voice seriously so it's kind of a big deal. She understands his sense of humor and think it's hilarious when he pokes fun at Zen sometimes. Within reason. Though, they do have differing opinions when it comes to politics and personal beliefs. Lila is very empathetic and is always willing to put others first. She would do her best to listen to anyone that needs to be heard no matter who they are. I think that's why she would notice that Jumin beeds someone to hear his voice. I also just think the idea of their style differences makes me chuckle. She's a sweet lolita and tends to be bubblegum and smiles, and Jumin is all business and class. They seem like polar opposites. Though, I think he would appreciate that she puts so much work into her style. God, and she would make Elizabeth cute bows and accessories. Though, I know that she would have such a hard time with the publicity and all the eyes on her back. She's not so great at being a public figure or being in the public eye. She can mask that when she's wearing the right outfit and presenting herself in a certain manner but really at the end of the day she has a hard time showing up side of herself. It might help her to come out of her shell with Jumin. I think it's an interesting Dynamic and it would be fun to play around with.

I think Zen is a possibility simply because she would play into that fantasy that she has. She is a total princess. She's kind of been waiting for someone to sweep her off her feet for a very long time and I have the feeling Zen would understand that feeling very well. They also relate on a lot of levels believe it or not. Lila struggles with body dysmorphia and has a hard time looking at herself if she's not wearing the right outfit. Zen knows that feeling himself because he's taken gears to learn how to love himself and even now he still has complications with that. So, I just know that they would have a lot in common when it comes to talking to each other so I think a relationship could be built off of that. I also know that he would totally appreciate her dedication to her fashion even if it's not exactly something that he's into. He totally thinks she's cute. I think he would motivate her to really follow her passion and dedicate herself more to modeling. Because, she does run a Blog where she talks about her outfits and her adventures. She often shares her outfits and her coordinates and it helps her build her body confidence. So, I could kind of Imagine them being a modeling power couple. God, Lila doing some Shiro Lolita with Zen is actually really enticing for some reason that I don't know. It's possible that he would just make her laugh and I think she needs that sometimes.

I've never really been able to imagine her with Jaehee or Yoosung. I think Vanderwood is a good wildcard. I've hinted at her appreciating them aesthetically before, and Vanderwood is kind of soft around her and Minji, to be honest with you, so there's that. Something that you don't expect so I think that's just very interesting. Seven is okay sometimes but I feel like he has a little too much in common with her older sister and that's why I never really delve too deeply into how they would be in a relationship if they had one in any reality.

So, if anyone was curious about a specific relationship Dynamic that she might have in an alternate universe where she's not dating Saeran, I'd be willing to explore that. But, at the end of the day, she's with Saeran always.