#self-image issues tw

[bloodyrosesnthorns]

this life thing is getting too difficult to continue.

[notdelusionalatall]

[injuries-in-dust]

Any advice for a trans woman who can't stand to look in the mirror?

I caught a glimpse of myself and I didn't like it.

Sorry, but I just wish the outside reflected the inside.

I hate that the wait list for a gender identity clinic is so long in the UK.

What I hate more, is that the wait list was up to 3 years when I first got myself on the register.

And that, just as I approached 3 years, the timeline got pushed back, making it up to 6 years.

And now the timeline stands at between 6-10 years.

FUCK THE TORY GOVERNMENT!!!

[jokerislandgirl32]

Violet After Having Varina…

TW for mild mention of pregnancy and childbirth, eating disorders, and body image issues!

Violet’s been super self conscious about body her entire life. Leading to battles with eating disorders at her weakness points. When she starts dating Zach, he helps her to get over this, but it’s a long and drawn out process, and with each pregnancy she becomes very self conscious again.

It is particularly difficult with her after Varina because she had two pregnancies back to back, so…I imagine a scene like this happened between Zach and Violet 😢. Violet’s insecure, but Zach thinks she’s beautiful and doesn’t get it. And Varina’s just chilling with daddy, so confused as to why he’s confused 😆.

[brown-little-robin]

okay so @quirkle2 sent me an ask about the aftermath of the Teru vs. Mob fight, and I went and wrote out the whole fight in the ask. I'm moving it to this post so that I can answer the Actual Question in the Actual Ask like a normal person. anyway here you go

Teru's Series of Really Bad Decisions

or, How Mob Came Out Of the Teru vs. Mob Fight Completely Unscathed

So here's the thing. Mob's zombie disease colony is pretty invested in keeping its host alive, so even while the fight is happening, he's healing really fast. And despite his top-dog persona, Teru doesn't actually enjoy injuring people. (The sensation of touching another person bothers him—that's why most of his attacks are things like slaps or punches, where he's only in contact with people for a moment before the force of the blow shoves them away. He'll kill or torture people, but he subtly avoids extended contact with them while doing so. It makes him nervous to resort to hands-on violence, because that's how a zombie fights and for his own survival, Teru HAS to act like he's above zombie behavior.)

So it takes Teru a while to work himself up to the point of actually committing to injuring Mob. At first, Teru is just punching him in the chest and stomach, shoving him (he pushes him into the school swimming pool at one point and then has to pull him back out because Mob never learned to swim and is drowning. major L for Teru's pride), taunting him, using blunt force and watching in disbelief while the other boy just takes it and breathes through the pain. He expected Mob to hit back right away, and then Teru would use a bit more strength and intimidate his opponent so much that he'd admit Teru's strength is way beyond him and then they'd be on amicable terms. But that doesn't happen.

Also, Dimple isn't back yet in this AU, so the fight takes place mostly in silence, which weirds Teru out. He's used to fighting with people yelling and screaming around him, and hearing nothing but pained noises and a few confused questions out of his opponent really bothers Teru. He grabs Mob and shakes him, asking why won't you fight back??. He's definitely like Teru! he's got the misty eyes and he's breathing out miasma and he has the healing ability to jerk his arms free of the ropes he was tied with and have the raw rope-scrapes on his arms heal over a minute later, but he won't! fight! back!!

Meanwhile, as Teru is shaking him by the shirt-collars, Mob is having flashbacks to his life wandering as a zombie before the cure. He's remembering Dimple clearer than he ever has before, and he's embracing those memories for once, clinging to his guilt over (he suspects) killing his friend. And, remembering how nice Dimple was to him and Ritsu, how Dimple shared strawberries with them, how he would coax Mob out of the rain, how Dimple reached for Mob's face while Mob's teeth were closing in his arm—he stares at Teru with all the loathing he feels toward himself, for killing Dimple.

Teru says, "What's with that look?"

Mob says, "I was just wondering, why do you feel the need to hurt people who are just trying to live? Do you think you have to, because you're a zombie?"

And Teru, who tries not to think of himself as a zombie, goes, "What?"

"Oh, I was just thinking—there was someone I knew who was a pretty good guy—compared to you. And I hurt him."

That makes Teru drop Mob like a hot potato. He doesn't want to fight like a zombie but he has to get this hypocrite who hurt his own friend and refuses to fight him to DO something—and they happen to be in the home ec room, right by the gas-powered generator for the home ec equipment, so Teru causes a gas explosion on purpose and blocks the door with his body, trying to force Mob to fight his way out to avoid burning alive. That's how Teru ends up losing his perfect hair—he may be special but he's still got zombie disease, his pain receptors don't work right and Mob is coughing too hard in the smoke to warn Teru that the fire ran along the ceiling and got to Teru's hair. The fire is how Mob's clothes get singed. He's not seriously burned, at least not by the time Teru sees him next (Teru rushed to the swimming pool when he realized his hair was on fire), but he's shaken and coughing and smells like smoke.

They both stumble out of the burning school building. Mob has his Moment Of Realization and correctly guesses that Teru's life is completely empty; Teru's acting like this because he's trying to ignore that he's a zombie and has no real friends because everyone is scared of him, and Teru isn't making any effort to live like a person instead of a monster.

That's when Teru just straight-up strangles Mob, throwing away his determination not to fight like a zombie. Mob has already ruined Teru's untouchable appearance and likely condemned Teru to being shot by his own people for causing all this property damage. Teru's life as a human is over already, he thinks. Mob refuses to fight back, passes out, ???% appears, you know how it goes.

And get this: Mob's zombie disease colony has expended a lot of its energy already (consuming its own drones for sheer power) to heal Mob from the blows and the burns, so when ???% puts his body into high gear, the colony registers EMERGENCY CONDITIONS and starts replenishing its energy using anything available—the colony deploys its own disease drones into the entire surrounding area and consumes all of the miasma in the air and water and, STILL not having enough energy for this, dives into Teru's body and eats 90% of Teru's colony. This is the equivalent of ???% absorbing all of the energy in the atmosphere AND Teru's psychic powers, which always makes me hold my breath in canon.

Teru can see this happening, by the way. Like Mob, he can sense the presence of zombie disease in all forms. He senses Kageyama's disease colony suddenly exploding from his body and eating all of the colonies in the area. what a sight to behold.

Anyway, so, yeah, Mob then wakes up with his body fully healed, in front of a burning school building, sensing absolute emptiness all around him.

He can't fix the school building. Not in this au. All he can do is kneel down and cry. He failed to change. He thought he was better now, he thought that he was in control of himself now, but he did it again—he hurt someone on accident again.

And then Teru stumbles over to him with his hip still spasming from where ???% threw him by his leg and goes, "Kageyama, you were right... without our power, we have nothing..."

and Mob looks up to see people stirring around them, and Teru is alive, he didn't kill Teru, he didn't kill anyone, and he goes back to Salt with the Body Improvement Club in a kind of shell-shocked daze.

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Aizetsu: *eating vegetables and pouting*

Muzan: What’s wrong with him? He’s sadder than normal.

Sekido: He’s on a health kick. He refuses to buy Lunchables even. I’m getting concerned.

Karaku: It’s honestly really troubling.

Urogi: He gave the ‘unhealthy’ food in our house to the hashira. I think someone offended him on his appearance.

Aizetsu: Gyokko said I’m ugly and fat!

Muzan: You aren’t. Please, Aizetsu, you’re worrying us with this. It doesn’t matter what you eat, your body won’t constitute it to anything but raw strength, please eat what you enjoy.

Aizetsu: I can buy more Lunchables?

Muzan: I’ll even buy you some Lunchables if you just eat something you like, okay?

Aizetsu: Okay!

Douma: …I think he’s the new favorite child.

Akaza: I’ve been demoted.

[cult-of-the-eye]

Flesh avatar!Martin fic

TW: severe body image issues, self hatred, negative self talk, body dysmorphia, body horror (ish), unhealthy one sided relationships

Jon wasn’t eating.

The level of Martin’s romantic obsession had never crossed the line of tracking someone’s eating habits, but it didn’t take a genius to see that whatever he was eating, it wasn’t enough. His own apple and snack bar combination had lasted him throughout secondary school, a certainty that he sincerely hoped wouldn’t change any time soon. But Jon needed it more than him.

Behind his desk, he felt small. He didn’t have to be aware of the flesh that hung off his limbs in jiggling masses, so he opted for something better. Something smaller. Jon was substantially smaller than him - a fact that he found overwhelming at first. He switched between the constant burning of awe of a lithe and sharp frame and the need to put his excess to use.

The line of sight from his desk to Jon’s office was cruelly clear. A hulking great wooden door between them, one that was the stumbling subject of many of his own poems. A foggy allegory of distance. It was a momentous occasion of sunshine when that door peeled open. Each time, Martin drank his fill of Jonathan Sims, but recently, it had left his mouth uncomfortably dry.

Today was one of those occasions. A forest green sweater vest hung off what only just passed off as a body. Lines cut beneath his deep brown eyes, distracting rather than highlighting. Cheekbones that once lifted a haughty expression only shadowed a much heavier one. Maybe this was just the rose tint that surrounded Jon, romanticising a time of crisis where Martin could justify stepping in. Or maybe Jon was actually not doing well. His body followed this line of thinking, footsteps treading heavily after Jon’s rabbit-footed paces, into the kitchen.

“Hi, Jon.”

Fat kids could only ever want to be one of three things when they grew up. Either utilise their size as a sign of comedy, strength or as softness. Anything else was unforgivable. Martin chose softness. He let that seep into his words, melting his body into the patches in the floor, so he would not trip.

“Martin.”

He lapped up the slight incline of his neck, a nod that contained a dizzying array of possibilities. Jon was clutching at a chipped mug as if it were his only anchor to the mortal world. Martin was inclined to believe that.

“I was wondering…”

The cupboard doors bristled against the hinges in the silence that followed. Jon did not expect further conversation. Neither did Martin.

“Yes?”

“I brought too much food.”

“Right.”

Now, Martin. Prove your value as a pile of meat.

“Would you like some?”

An apple. A peace offering. An organic bridge of sorts, nutrients shared from a body that doesn’t need it to a body that does. Almost parasitic. And Jon looked at it as such. With the disgust of someone offering to attach to him, to leach off of his energy and time.

“It’s just a fruit. It won’t kill you.”

Jon’s eyes sunk further into the past. Into whatever warren he had been dragged into, taking from him his edges and sanding down into the bare necessities. Martin only had one card left to play.

“I…please just take it, Jon?”

Sincerity.

Emotions are rarely seen in the fat kid. Emotions are frowned upon. They increase your size, your ability to be noticed, so reassuring or stoic or half-laughing are your only choices. This is a wildcard. Not even Jonathan Sims could predict his response. Unpredictable was something Martin could get used to being.

“...Sure, Martin.”

Jon gave Martin a wide berth while crossing the kitchen. As if he had grown suddenly and was unsure of his new dimensions. Martin felt no contortion of his size, standing, watching Jon walk away, biting the apple in his hand. There was no door to the kitchen, of any material, let alone wood. Nothing especially poetic about eating an apple in an office. Just a faint sense of hunger and a new willingness to do something about it.

[awkward-tension-art]

Failure

Fell in love with the Headcanon that @giveintobrainrot came up with with vendetta Leon.

My man has been through a lot and I haven’t seen anyone talk about how that would affect him biologically.

no shame to anyone with any sort of performance issues. Especially if it’s tied to trauma. The human body is weird, and there’s absolutely nothing to be ashamed of.

wrote this with AFAB!reader in mind but I kept pronouns as gender neutral as possible.

I have a second ending for this saved lol

Warnings: self loathing, depressive thoughts, erectile dysfunction, brief mention of cum, sexual dysfunction, depression, angst, if I miss a warning shoot me a message

Minors get the hell out of here.

Leon knew he should be more involved. He knew that you wanted more. More energy. More excitement. More drive.

Your hips rolled slowly. Eyes closed in pleasure. Lips open to let out breathy moans.

Honestly, you could probably replace him with a dildo and have more fun. You most likely wouldn’t even notice a difference. Hell he wouldn’t judge you if you’d stop trying with him and instead preferred some rubber or plastic. You have needs after all and the agent wasn’t able to meet them.

He appreciated the effort though. The way you took away his fatigue for even a little bit. Sometimes he felt that you did this more for him than yourself. You’d wear a sexy little number, push him on the bed, and have your fun. Your full focus on him.

Your body moves in all the right ways. He did feel good, but not enough. It was barely enough to get him hard. Was it his age? The alcohol? Antidepressants? Or the years of living in a nightmare with endless exhaustion and pain?

Your fingertips stroked his cheek and Leon cracked open his eyes. He hadn’t even realized he closed them…

His gaze met yours, and you leaned down to kiss him.

Escape. That's what this was. You were giving him a momentary escape from the realities of the world.

Leon tried to focus on you. Your lips. Your moving hips. Your beautiful body. What you gave him…the work you put in while he just…laid there…

Damnit…

The Agent sighed, turning his face away. His eyes landed on the bedroom wall as his body went slack. He couldn’t do this tonight.

This has happened more times than he cared to count. His tired body gave up, right in the middle of sex. Each time you were forgiving and understanding, but that didn’t help the sting of embarrassment.

Your movements slowed, but you didn't get off. “Leon…” You whispered his name with such tenderness…

Did he deserve such kindness? He’s killed people. Innocent people. He’s ended the lives of people he swore to protect.

“Sorry…” He mumbled, unable to look at you. Embarrassment and shame burned in his chest. He couldn't bear to see the look on your face.

Disappointment. Sadness. Frustration. All things he expected from you. But he was too cowardly to confirm.

Why even try with him? You had no future with the agent. He couldn’t give you the slightest bit of enthusiasm anymore. There was no energy. No passion.

Fuck. He couldn’t give you the family you deserve. He wasn’t a loving husband who strived to gift you the world. Kids were off the table entirely. Even if he managed to finish, which was now rare, he couldn’t produce any seed. His genetics would die with him. Once he’s gone, there will be no proof of your love. No one to remember the love you shared.

Leon couldn’t face you. He couldn’t do it anymore. You deserve so much better than him. Self loathing drowned his entire form. It hurt to even breathe now.

“Leon…” your voice. God your voice. It was soft and loving. Every word dripped with understanding and patience. “Do you want to sleep?”

He nodded silently.

You slipped off his lap and laid beside him. He kept his back to you unable to see how you looked at him. You’d stare with such boredom. Or contempt.

God what if you hated him? All the agent is doing now is wasting your time. You could go and find someone much better than him. Someone would could meet your needs and-

Your lips were on his shoulder, pecking his scarred skin tenderly. With warm and loving arms, you reached around him to hold his hands, interlocking your fingers with his.

“I love you, Leon.” You whispered, “and I’m here for you, ok? I’m gonna stay right here for you.”

Why? Why? He wanted to scream that question. Why bother with him anymore? He was far from the man you’ve fallen in love with.

“I love you too.” He croaked. He wanted to tell you to move on. For your own happiness. But he was too selfish. You were a shred of light in his dark, dark world. And he couldn’t give you up. He clung to you desperately, wanting to hold onto the small comfort you could give his broken soul.

You gave him so much. But he couldn’t do the same to you.

“I love you so much…” he whispered, praying his voice remained steady. Doubtful, because everything else in his body failed him. Why would his vocal cords actually cooperate with what he wanted?

You held him tighter, giving away the fact that yes, his own voice betrayed him.

[traumatizeddfox]

[hwsforeignrelations]

The duality of Alfred...

[glitchyko]

Alright, so I feel like I need to say something about this since it has been on my mind for a long while and I want to address it.

I want to say I’m sorry for the times when I said I want/will draw something and then just never doing it. I feel bad for setting something up only to never fulfill it. I feel like I’m a liar and I’m just lazy, that I let myself down and failed, even though I know there’s circumstances in my life that make it difficult to do some of the things I wish to do. Things such as ADHD, school, mental health, and other things going on in my life. But I’ve been trying to get better at managing my time, getting things done faster, be more productive, and keep working on my art and perfectionism issues.

I want to do better, I want to actually be able to do and show the stories, aus, ocs, etc, that I constantly say that I think about and want to share with you guys. I want to become better as an artist and writer, and I don’t want to keep being scared to do things I want to do because of perfectionism to a point where I just can’t do anything out of fear of it looking bad and not meeting my unrealistically high standards.

I’m not completely sure where I’m going with this vent talk to be honest, I know I can’t guarantee changes and such immediately, and I don’t want to force myself to work on art stuff just to pump something out on social media as quickly as possible. That is not why I create, and to be honest that sounds like a recipe for burnout, more confidence issues, and not having fun with art anymore. I think what I’m trying to say is, I’m going to try to do things instead of just saying and thinking I want to do something and never doing it.

[abubblingcandle]

ED fic? I’m guessing this one is gonna break me

I'm sorry in advance anon. It's a very sad one ngl. I've posted about it in response to another ask here and will tag this one with the same trigger warnings and put more details under the cut

A big culminating part of Chapter 1 of this is Jamie reaching out for help and there's no one there and I'm contemplating how to handle it. It comes after the first few games of Zava's tenure (and so I need to rewatch the beginning of S3 lol) and Jamie collapses on the training pitch. He's taken to the nutritionists and physios and lies his ass off about why his weight is so low and is given a notebook to keep a food log. He goes home and can't eat anything and it actually hits him that this is a problem. And so he calls people for help but everyone's too busy and it causes the spiral. I just need to work out how to put it into Jamie POV now ...

Another little snippet carrying on from the prior linked snippet -

His breath hitched in his throat as everything tightness. Nails dug into his legs as the notebook lay discarded in front of him, the little crescent indents the only thing reminding him that he still had a body to fall apart within. Why couldn’t he just pull out one of the nutritionist approved meals, stick it in the microwave, sit at the table and eat it while doom scrolling on his phone? It should be so easy. Tears stuck to his eyelashes and he didn’t even have the energy blink them away. He just let them fall. He was so tired, so broken that he couldn’t even cry properly. Jamie stayed sat there, for he didn’t know how long. His back was tight and his nail indents were leaving a slow trickle of blood down his shins. It felt like that should hurt, like he should feel that he was bleeding. Jamie’s juttery breathing echoed around his head. It didn’t feel like his body anymore. How could it be if he didn’t even feel it when it hurt?

[notdelusionalatall]

TW: Body image issues.

wishing i looked like the girls i see on instagram all the time

[newtabfics]

Hello! I was wondering if you could write a Sidon X Reader, where the reader is struggling with her body image, mainly over stretch marks and feels insecure about Sidon seeing her body? Thank you for your time! <3

I was a bit hesitant on this one because I also have body image issues. I don't have stretch marks myself so I wouldn't know how to be self-conscious of this. I kept this more focused on being insecure about the body without saying what it actually is because of this. I'm sorry if this isn't your exact desire but I hope it scratches the itch.

Trigger warnings for body image issues. all tagged in case you wanna block this one. Below cut.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

It doesn't take long for Sidon to notice the way she flinches and reflexively covers herself in some way or form when people near her. She's hiding. But why would she hide all that beauty?

Sidon waits a long while, watching and noticing.

It's in the way she hides under clothes. The way she covers her mouth when she eats. The way she shies away from mirrors.

It's a day when Sidon finally snaps and comes into the room, planting her in front of a mirror.

"Why do you hate your body?" He asked outright. Her face told him he was right. The prince didn't wait for an answer as he knelt down so he was holding her, chin on her shoulder as he eyed her in the mirror. "You're my beautiful pearl. Please stop trying to hide the treasures you hold."

He doesn't listen to excuses, only the things she tells him, that people have said to her in her time in Hateno. He never knew there were also men and women as shallow as the tide pool.

"You shouldn't listen to them. Only to me," He said. "Because I look at you and I have to stop myself from devouring you outright. My Pearl is something I want to kiss and lick all over," He hummed, licking a long trail up the back of her neck for emphasis.

"Sidon," She whimpered as his hand clutched her hip.

"You are my pearl, Y/N. Let me worship your body as it deserves to be."

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

[a-j-s-the-only]

where did your eating disorder come from?

my mother holds her stomach, laughing.

“woman!” My dad hoots from the kitchen bar countertop. “You need to go to the gym!”

she laughs, “I know, we both need to!” He bellows along with her. “We are fat!”

“well we wouldn’t be if you would stop buying the dessert cakes!” He gestures to her belly.

“I know! I promise this is the last time!” (She’s said that before)

mother holds her belly fold and jiggles it. Dad laughs.

I watch their interactions. I’m 2 feet away, in plain sight.

“where does your eating disorder come from?” My therapist asks.

“my mother and father.”

“but they know you have an eating disorder, why joke about it in-front of you?” Her head tilts in sympathy.

“that’s just how they are.”

[thecouncilofidiots]

Potentially Triggering Content under cut

Check tags for list of warnings

Vent, No Images

Soooo it looks like it's shaping up to be a No Eating Day. Not even sure why tbh

We're not having a depressive episode

We HAVE food, safe foods and foods that are easy to make

But the idea of eating rn makes the brain scream Bad so that's fun (/sarcasm)

Don't have water on hand and don't feel like getting up to get some...

It's not even self-harm this time either!

Not sure we can handle just going into the kitchen rn without panicking tbh

Which sucks but it is what it is

Not acceptance so much as resignation

I don't know why we're like this

I don't know how to combat it or work around it