#when you say fatphobic things about yourself

[cheeseburgersinparadise]

Why is death feederism ok? It is objectively self harm, as one is doing something that will result in them hurting themselves and eventually dying (as fetishized). I just can’t understand it… I am someone in this space that likes being stuffed and full, and doesn’t mind a little biy of wg… but I just don’t understand why gaining until death is encouraged so much when it’s so extreme and life ruining.

Like if there was a feeder and feedee couple that were into it… what would happen if the feeder had issues and couldn’t help the feedee that is reliant on their feeder? What happens if they break up and the feedee is dependent enough where they need family or something to help?? I mean it’s just… they could literally die if they were so dependent and forced to live on their own.. encouraging people to ruin their lives because it makes their private part excited is encouraging self harm.

This is my opinion and I seriously want to know what you have to say… I brought this up to someone else and their response was to block me and say “I think death feeding women think more critically about the fetish🤔” without response. And just so you know this isn’t fatphobic, i never once said I find fat people gross or anything, I just find the idea of fetishizing self harm gross. It’s fetishizing being disabled and or dead.

TW for death feedism, kink talk, self harm/suicide

so general disclaimer - I am not a death feedist and so I don’t know that I’m a good representative to speak on this topic but I’ll share some brief thoughts.

I think it’s okay to look at extreme fetishes and feel uncomfortable with them, so I’m not going to try and tell you that you can’t feel the way you do. I was very critical of people who practiced this fetish in ways I personally didn’t like and this community helped me realize it’s not my business to do that. There is no moral superiority in kink.

The thing is though - in order to be sex positive and an ally to our fellow feedists (yes, even the ones we disagree with or don’t like how they practice the fetish) we have to respect their bodily autonomy and allow them to make whatever decisions they think is best for them. It’s not our job nor our place to tell folks what they can and can’t do.

I would maybe agree that it’s a slippery slope and in a very extreme case, you could argue that this line of thinking would allow us to excuse a suicide fetish, for example (unsure if that’s a real thing). But there ARE disability fetishes and a fetish isn’t inherently bad as long as there are informed consenting parties and you are practicing RACK.

I don’t know if that line of thinking is even worth arguing because it could only serve to slip the other way up the slope back to overt purity culture. I want to validate your thoughts and questions because its important to critically analyze things and i want to believe you are coming from a place of good faith (and I have it in me to try and discuss this).

Regarding the statement of “death feedists think more critically about the fetish” could be true, as realizing you’re a death feedist DOES require reflection and understanding of yourself and of fatphobia in general. I haven’t had at length discussions with folks about this but the death feedists on my dash that post about fat lib seem to know their shit.

At the end of the day, why death feedists enjoy that aspect of the fetish is not for me to debate with or without them present. It’s not for me to tell them what they can and can’t do with their bodies. That aspect of the fetish isn’t for me, but that doesn’t mean I have the right to tell others what they should get off to. I also think death feedists are a smaller portion of the community and it’s easy to block the tags they use if you don’t want to see their content. I know a few death feedists and I like them (at least their online persona) and they are probably more equipped to discuss this if they want to. So please feel free to add some comments if you’d like, death feedist friends.

My advice is practice radical acceptance. It feels uncomfortable but I think ultimately it makes you a better person when dealing with things you think are weird or gross or bad.

[the-worm-king]

You shouldn't hate yourself because your fat

Fat women are hot

Fat men are hot

Fat enbies are hot

Anyone who says otherwise is a fucking coward

Fucking crush them under your thicc beautiful ass

And if you disagree with this,

GET YOUR ASS OFF MY BLOG! YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE!

[thepoisonroom]

'I flirted with the idea that instead of being trans that I was just a cross-dresser (a quirk, I thought, that could be quietly folded into an otherwise average life) and that my dysphoria was sexual in nature, and sexual only. And if my feelings were only sexual, then, I wondered, perhaps I wasn’t actually trans.

I had read about a book called The Man Who Would Be Queen, by a Northwestern University professor who believed that transwomen who were attracted to women were really confused fetishists, they wanted to be women to satisfy an autogynephilia. And though I first read about this book in the context of its debunkment and disparagement, I thought about the electricity of slipping on those tights, zipping up those boots, and a stream of guilt followed. Maybe this professor was right, and maybe I was only a fetishist. Not trans, just a misguided boy.

About a year later, on the Internet, I come across a transwoman who added a unique message to the crowd refuting this professor. Oh, I wish I remember who this woman was, and I wish even more that I could do better than paraphrase her, but I remember her saying something like this: “Well, of course I feel sexy putting on women’s clothing and having a woman’s body. If you feel comfortable in your body for the first time, won’t that probably mean it’ll be the first time you feel comfortable, too, with delighting in your body as a sexual thing?”'

-Casey Plett, Consciousness

[snekdood]

me and my boyfriend were having a conversation earlier about how creepy my dad is and how he 1 used to spy on my mom w binoculars in his car across the street after their divorce (she got a restraining order luckily) but also 2 i remember him threatening to kill my mom and her current husband and i said something about how "i used to be scared i'd see him outside of my window watching me, even though he would probably just go after my mom i was worried he might try to kidnap me-"

and then it all clicked for me. the reason zero is the way he is is bc of my dad. the reason my comic is the way it is is bc of my fucking dad!

[othercrossee]

[inkskinned]

im gonna start a fight; and, at the same time, i need you to take this in the most good-faith way possible, but:

videos that involve body-checking and intentionally (and uncritically) show a mealplan of an unhealthy number of calories are just a revamped version of pro-ana food diaries.

and yeah, i know there's arguments. i address some of them under the cut. but at the end of the day, we're just coming back to romanticizing mental illness; we've just found a better platform for it.

this is already something we've done. we knew it was wrong and tried to stop it. and tbh. it just wasn't enough.

there are people who argue "well, what if you have an eating disorder, you can't help it if you don't eat!" except that as someone with an ED; we are not infants. we know what we're doing. part of having an ED is that you are like, maybe too self-aware. even if we can't help our own food choices, we don't need to fucking romanticize the disorder - something we've been warning you about since 2013. there are hours of setup, filming, and editing that go into these videos. they do not happen to fall into place randomly. there is a reason they are pieced together to be beautiful, bright, inspiring.

there's this woman who pretty much only posts daily plans under a normal amount of calories, and everyone defends her saying but it's better than nothing! and i'm like. except she opens those with images of her showing off her body and provides no context in the video or caption that suggests that she believes what she's doing is unhealthy. she has hundreds of thousands of followers on a platform designed for young kids and teens. i refuse to believe that by accident her content just happens to be cheery advice on "healthy" versions of starving.

for any other symptom of mental illness, we would be incredibly enraged by this kind of placid acceptance of a "tips and tricks" fast-start guide. imagine if people posted pink & pretty videos saying "best places to cut yourself" as if it was a fucking storytime. we, as a society, are so fucking fatphobic that we would rather accept blatantly harmful displays of self harm than admit that we are obsessed with a hyper-thin body type.

i am not suggesting someone never talks about their disorder. i talk about mine. actually, it's a plot point in my book.

here's the difference: i recognize it's a fucking mental illness. i am very careful to never mention a specific weight, eating pattern, or calorie plan. i always make sure to position it as something that ruined my fucking life. i do not put cheery music in the background and hearts and sparkles over my worst moments. i do not film it in bright light. i do not start each passage with an image of a thin body followed by "here's how to look like her."

eating disorders should not be framed as aspirational. and the problem is that society worships the "after" image, so long as you don't get too sick. there is a reason so many people who quit being "influencers" will later admit - i wasn't eating well that whole time; an obsession with food was completely destroying my life.

we let any uncredited, uncertified person write the most backwards, fucked up shit about how to get the body you desire! because the underlying, secret belief is: well, at least they're thin! and the real thing that fucking gets me each time - they make fucking money off of it. their irresponsibility and societal harm literally pays off for them.

"why do you care so much." "don't like it don't look." "so what if people experiment with new ways of thinking of food?"

thank you for asking. we're about to get extremely personal. it's because when i was 18 i discovered "thinspiration"/"thinspo." and it absolutely influenced, shaped, and codified my pre-existing eating disorder. i went from having some troubling habits and traits to being incredibly unwell within what felt like a matter of days. there were actual pages designed to train me on how to have an ED correctly. it was all so suddenly easy. i was sick; and the nature of the illness meant - i wanted to be sicker.

it takes an average of 7 years for a person to fully recover. i know this personally - even now, 10 years from the worst of it, i still fucking struggle. i am so much happier now and i eat what i want and i literally don't think about food at all (19 year old me would shudder) and yet - i still fucking know the calories of plain toast with butter.

an eating disorder is one of the deadliest types of mental illness. over 1 in 4 people with an ED will attempt suicide.

and i'm sorry. i just do not see the exchange rate of "high rate of engagement" versus "the value of a human life."

[lovelykhaleesiii]

hi, other half, I've came to beg you to write some smutty thing for me. You once posted sth about riding Aegon's belly and yOU BITCH, I HAVEN'T BEEN ABLE TO STOP THINKING ABOUT IT SINCE THEN. So I'm begging you, queen of chubby!aegon, to write something about getting off on Aegon's fat belly (and u know the details, i know u do bc we share the same mind).

i love u, please and thank u🤍🥺

I LOVE YOU! and whoopsie, I can't help it if my thotty thots overtake your mind <3 lord have mercy, I really took my time with this one boo, like I actually lost myself AHAHA you know what they say, great minds think alike :))) hope you enjoy lovely x

Satisfied, Yet?

PAIRING: chubby!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader.

WORDS: 2,464.

WARNINGS: NSFW, slight mention of fatphobic comment, thigh/stomach riding, p in v sex, swearing.

Since being anointed as King, Aegon's life had altered drastically. Most of these changes not only seeped into his political stance in the realm, or in his dutiful role of upholding social responsibilities, although in his physicality, too. Since, having been betrothed to Aegon from his long, before days as Prince till now, you'd been front row and center to all these unfolding changes...

Nonetheless, at the very least you were quite absorbed in all the theatrics, particularly relishing in your husband's growing figure.

Aegon had always been an envoy to gluttony since his youth, his habits had only recently begun to swell from a boy's meager appetite into a man's. Since his coronation, Aegon, with you loyally by his side, had been invited and exposed to plentiful feasts, tourneys, banquets and celebrations in honor of his succession, with copious amounts of succulent roasts, pastries, sweets, treats and wine, that could fulfillingly feed the entire realm thrice. It was inevitable that such a habit of glutton would overtake…

Although you modestly dined in moderation, Aegon often found himself feasting, ravishing through the delectable flavours each region of the realm had to offer to their newly appointed King, eagerly hoping to appease his Grace.  As time went on, you found that his table manners had become wilted, as he’d often lost focus, disengaging in conversations, too enraptured by gorging himself on the delicacies offered to him by his meek subjects. You’d even occasionally witness him satisfyingly licking the tasteful grease off of his now thick, pudgy fingers, savoring the sacred moment, as his other free hand massaged his full, distended belly. 

In doing so, and unknowing to Aegon’s own naked eye, his appetite grew just as rapid as his waistline. His grandsire, the Hand, Otto Hightower, often eyed the King with disgust although, so long as Aegon showed up to such meaningful events, he did not protest. Nor did the Dowager Queen, Alicent, for she grew weary and apprehensive to provoke Aegon, now that he was King. Thus, no one dared to fuss. 

If you were being frank with yourself, you intently observed Aegon’s newly found habits, not in a parallel way to his grandsire, although with lust. Aegon’s appetite was what you’d believed, fit for a King. The repercussions of this, you reaped bashfully, as you gradually watched your beloved husband's figure swell. He maintained muscle, through occasional combat training and flights with Sunfyre, although now a visible layer of fat had grown all over, padding the muscle beneath. His legs, once modestly average sized, had now grown to be as thick as tree trunks, along with his bulky biceps and forearms to match. Although the centerpiece of attraction was his abdominal region, now protruding over his hidden waistline, the soft flesh hung, resting over his stocky thighs whenever you found him lounging. 

Gods be good, was it a mission to remain incessantly composed for hours when you were present to spoil your longing eyes upon your dear husband sprawled comfortably upon the Iron Throne… He’d grown into the seat, the fat of his thighs digging into the edge, subtly hanging over its edge, as he just managed to fit in. The image was stupendously ingrained into your brain, and the only thoughts that you could muster were sinful. 

Nonetheless, Aegon remained oblivious to the venereal effect his appearance was having on you…

****

“Fuck-” Aegon frusturatingly huffed.

“What is it, my love?” You concerningly question. Slowly closing the pages of your novel that rested against your lap, as you turned to face your husband, you had been greeted with an exasperated Aegon, his plump cheeks reddened from all the bustling noises you’d mindlessly heard in the background whilst reading. 

“It seems I am in need of a new fitting. I have been struggling to button these trousers on, dearest, not to mention how uncomfortably tight they now feel,” Aegon sulkingly protested. You carefully watched on, as you witnessed Aegon curiously pondering over his reflection in the mirror of your shared compartment. The pantaloons he’d been whining about, he’d just managed to dress, although remained loose and unsecured where it should have been buttoned and fitted. Instead, his portly belly hung low, his flesh engulfing over the opening and seams of the pants. 

“Be honest before the Gods dearest, have I grown?” Aegon uttered, as he turned to face you sharply, his hands gliding over his swollen belly, as the one squeezed the mold of fat over where his ribs lay protected beneath.

“I-uh, I do not know what you mean, dearest. Y-You look fine,” You meekly respond, unable to maintain direct eye contact, once Aegon was done sizing himself down, returning his gaze unto you. A stern look had brewed across his face, as you lowered your head to the book on your lap, fiddling with its torn edges.

“Do not toy with me, Y/N. Be honest, at the very least, I command that you speak the truth before your King. Have I grown…fat?” A distaste apparent in his stern voice, Aegon looked upon you with fretful eyes. 

Your reluctant gaze had softened with adoration. You did not wish for Aegon to feel even the slightest tinge of shame for his change, nor did you want him to think it possible, that you were revolted by the very sight of your husband.

“Y-You may have grown somewhat in size, but Aeg, that does not mean I love you any less. No lesser, than the day my maiden eyes had laid upon you.” 

Although you spoke warmly of the truth, Aegon refused to believe. Disapprovingly shaking his head in protest, he tore his attention away from you, avoiding eye contact as his glistening, lilac eyes had now wandered to the ground beneath his feet. His hands nervously gliding up and down the sides of his thick thighs, as he slowly seated himself down over the edge of the bed, an audible creak of the wooden frame fracturing the silence. 

“People must look upon us, and feel pity unto you, my wife. For look at the ‘hog’ she has now binded herself to-”

“Aegon, please-” You firmly interjected, racing over towards your husband, as you gracefully knelt before him, your hands now appearing tiny, sprawled against his large thighs, gripping the flesh for stability. 

“Aeg, look at me-” Your hand reached over, tugging at his fatty chin to redirect his attention solely onto you. 

“They-” Your fleeting eyes darting towards the shut door and back towards him, indicating to the world beyond.

“-should not matter. I would never say such vile things, nor could I ever think of you like that.” 

Aegon remained chillingly quiet, although you’d faintly glimpsed a sudden glint in his eyes, as his fixed attention lingered over your soft lips. 

“Prove it.” 

His sudden words took a solid few seconds to register in your mind, before you’d fathomed its meaning. Prove so, how? 

You knew exactly what was required of you. Your readiness for this moment had been stirring amid the quiet moments against the bustle and haste, of the banquets and festivities you’d both attended, that you often found yourself reservedly pondering in your own lustful thoughts, envisioning many things… 

“Sit properly on the bed,” You boldly uttered, as you stood yourself up, pushing yourself up from Aegon’s knees, leaning yourself ever so slightly forward that the evident cleavage in your tightly fitted gown were brazenly displayed to Aegon, as you stood swiftly. It made you innocently chuckle seeing Aegon smacking his juicy lips in response, as he strugglingly shuffled himself atop the bed, right towards the center of the wooden headboard. His large, rough hands steadily rubbed against the tight fabric of his thighs in anticipation for what was to come, as he intently observed you from afar. 

Both your undivided attention remained mutually onto each other: a faint, tender smile appearing on your face, as you noticed the hunger in Aegon’s eyes [mildly similar to how he gushed over the plated feasts], a smirk beaming across his face. 

Slowly walking over towards him, you’d managed to hike the front of your dress up sensually, before crawling atop the bed, only to find yourself straddling your beloved husband. Your legs had been stretched out broadly, accommodating for his wider frame, as his stomach pushed against the sensitive region of your lower abdomen and entrance. Gods, did his thighs feel so tender and soft beneath your ass, as you comfortably lowered yourself down, readjusting your position. Your arms instinctively stretch over towards his neck line, as your fingers begin to tangle and pull on the platinum, short strands from behind. 

It seemed the warm, tense friction of your body against Aegon’s was already beginning to stir the new King, pleasantly.

Closing in the distance between your faces, as your moist lips teasingly hovered over his plump ones. 

“You want me to prove it, baby… So be it,” You softly whispered, the warmth of your breath Aegon had inhaled, unable to remain patient, the young King pushed his mouth against yours, his tongue shoving its way through in exchange for a long, passionate kiss. Somehow, his pudgy hands had managed to find their way towards your backside, roughly squeezing the flesh of each cheek, you were certain his fingerprints would remain evident. 

Almost in tune to a rhythm, you began to pace yourself in a loop, slowly rocking forwards and back against the thin fabric of Aegon’s strained pants, your body shoving in deeper towards his distended belly, before leaning back to give him some momentary relief. 

“Mhmm,” Aegon lowly moaned, as one hand remained glued to your tender ass cheek, whilst the other snaked its way firmly behind your back, his rough hand gripping your neck, his thick fingers entangled in your hair, as he massaged the base of your head. 

“You have no idea what you’ve done to me, seeing you become this-” You breathlessly whimpered, as you tore apart your lips from his to speak. 

Aegon sensed the sincerity in your tone, and the soft, pleasing look in your eyes, as you ached for him. You could’ve sworn he could physically feel the throbbing sensation pulsating from your moist cunt, against the soft flesh of his full gut. 

“And what is it that I have done? What is it that you wish to do to me, my sweet, sweet angel?” 

Your pace had subtly quicked, briefly feeling Aegon trying to align your cunt to his cock, he undoubtedly was not expecting your next move. 

Insisting Aegon to recline himself further back into a semi-fowler position, the plentiful, fluffed cushions supporting his heavy mass in conjunction to the solid headboard hidden beneath. You swiftly shuffled yourself further up his body, thrusting yourself forward with enough momentum that you now sat atop, straddling his doughy, bloated stomach beneath. Your hands now gripping dearly onto his broad, dense shoulders, nails digging into the cloth-like fabric of his white shirt, as you further continued to thrust against him, riding his flesh beneath deeply and vigorously. 

“Fuck, Y/N-” He growled, as his grip remained strained onto your hips, as they rhythmically bucked forwards and back, desperately riding in deeper into his mass. 

“See-uh-See, what you’ve done to me, this, all of this-” You squeeze a little more into the flesh of his skin, pulling at the fat that embodied your husband, signifying his tremendous growth. Your moistened cunt began to coat his pale, soft skin stripped with reddened marks and stripes all along his sides and below, with your sweetness, as his shirt hiked up against your movements. 

“L-Look, my King, look at exactly what you’ve done to m-me-” You bashfully utter, as your spine instinctively arches, the collision and smacking of your skin against his continued to be heard in such close proximity, only muffled by either of your mindless moans and grunts. Nestled between your lower cunt and backside, you could feel something poking through, Aegon’s thick cock beginning to swell, feeling its pulsating urge beneath the strained fabric, the incessant need to shove itself inside of you grew with each movement. 

“Hmmf-” Aegon’s heavy, volatile breathing grew rapidly: as he ate himself to swell, his efforts became strained, often catching him huffing and puffing after hiking up a dense flight of stairs. 

“Come on, Aegon- I-I’m so close already-” You stutteringly whimper, sensual moans mindlessly interrupting your words. Now your wetness began to lubricate his succulent, fleshy skin entirely, as your cum pooled beneath, making your movements easier, gliding over his portly stomach. Where his lean pecs had once been, now a thick layer of adipose mounted over: one hand remained gripped to his shoulder, desperate for the stable support, whilst the other firmly cupped and squeezed at his enlarged, swollen pec. The roughness of your touch against the sensitive site, scored a loud plea for your name from his lips, that momentarily left your lifted breasts, before resuming to suckle on your soft skin. 

“Prove me wrong, baby. Prove me so fucking wrong-” Aegon groaned and moaned desperately, his grip remained firm as he tried desperately to shove you down deeper into his body. 

Instantly, you felt your pulsating cunt drench his swollen, soft belly as you pleasantly cried out, moaning Aegon’s name like a banshee in the night. His cock beneath you twitched in response, some moistness had brewed and seeped beneath its place, for it seemed Aegon was just as close to pumping, making a mess of himself. Although, as surprisingly swift as he could be for his size, Aegon thoroughly knew his way around your body, despite the changes to his own. His pants already undone from before, he could easily lift you up momentarily, pulling it down further enough for his bare cock to protrude through, aggressively shoving himself into you as you now remained atop. His thick cum coating your inner walls, as his veiny, fat cock grazed over your sweet spot, whilst your walls clenched on his thick cock. 

“Fuck, baby-” He subtly mouthed,  as he prompted himself further up, although his belly innately blocking his way, as he tried to lean over towards your own feeble body. The pace of your breathing now in sync with his, as your heated bodies lunged over towards one another for support, he held your weak self in his bulky arms, Aegon’s dense cock still remained inside of you, its strong pulse echoing from within your walls. 

“Satisfied, yet?” You helplessly pant, as you reluctantly pull yourself out of Aegon, repositioning yourself laying, nestled by his side. 

“I guess I should hold back on training for a little while longer, I wouldn't want to lose this figure, if that’s what I’ll be expecting, dear wife.”

[grogusmum]

IRL

Part 2 : of festivals and food

JAVI X F!PLUS SIZE!READER

WORD COUNT: 2200ish

SUMMARY: Set before the events of The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent. Javi and Reader are friends online, and after a year of DMing, they decide to meet. (The only change is that Javi and Gabriela are just friends)

WARNINGS: Reader has insecurities about her size and appearance, Lucas continues to be a fatphobic jerk, and that's about it in this chapter. Worries about food and eating. Javi is adorable, be warned.

Part 1

Javi watches you closely after the encounter with Lucas. He got the feeling your translation was very basic, and on the surface, it might not seem rude. When you pull on an entirely unnecessary cardigan, he knows you know it was at your expense.

“Just in case the air conditioning is - um, you know too cold, or whatever,” you mumble.

He thinks you are just beautiful and not in spite of your size. Your ample curves and softness were just… all he can think about was running his hands up and down your plush arms.

Javi opens the car door for you when you reach the carport and comes around to the driver’s side.

Dropping into his seat, he fills the void-

“So along those lines, this is a 1955 Porsche 356 Pre-A Speedster, Nick-”

“Oh right Nick had one until he sold it because of his 'IRS problems',” releieved to have something else to talk about, you grab onto what feels like a lifeline, a conversation far from what you are thinking about, then your eyes widen.

“Wait-”

Javi smiles and nods animatedly, as you point just as emphatically at the car with your mouth hanging open.

“Is this his?!”

“I got it on auction! I was only too happy to help Nick with his financial difficulties.”

At the restaurant, the Materdi seats you and Javi in a ridiculously romantic alcove with an open window overlooking the beach. You carefully slide onto the semi-circle bench, and Javi slips in after you. There are faerie lights strung above you and a low candle in stained glass mosaic holder on the intimate table.

The server brings water and gives you the chef’s specials. When he returns for your order you do your best to order in Spanish.

Of course Javi knows he doesn’t know how you eat normally, but when you spoke online, you expressed a love of trying new things and experimenting with cooking, though you admitted you failed spectacularly on many occasions. But here you are in Spain for the first time and you order a salad. A side salad and some prawns.

“How would it be if I ordered for the both of us? Javi tries, “that way, you can try a just little of everything, if, you know, you are not very hungry. I would hate for you to miss out on the tapas Roberto’s is so famous for.”

He watches you nibble self-consciously at first, though Roberto’s tapas won the day. Soon, you are making yummy noises, and Javi can’t get enough of them.

“Have you tried this one?” Javi asks, getting a fork full of Patatas Bravas and guiding it toward your mouth. Your little smile just before opening your mouth gives Javi butterflies low in his stomach. Your lips close around it, followed by your eyes as you savor it. Then you give the cutest whine.

“Is that potato?”

“Mhmm,” Javi smiles, “with garlic, hot sauce, and- ”

“Smoked paprika!” You finish together.

“Oh it’s all so good, thank you Javi.”

“For what?”

“Not letting me just have a stupid salad and steamed shrimp.”

After dinner, Javi takes you for a walk along the beach. Wondering if he can take your hand again, when you try to stifle a yawn, the time difference is getting to you.

“To bed!” he declares, seizing the opportunity to take your hand under the guise of directing you toward his palatial home. “We have a big day at the festival.”

“I’m not really ready to say good night, Javi.” You give his hand a squeeze, “But you're probably right, I’d be mortified if I fell asleep during one of the movies.”

“Well, we will head back to the house slowly.”

But you find yourself in front of your bedroom door far too soon. Before you could overthink it, you give him a kiss on the cheek and a shy goodnight and disappear into your room. Javi leans on the door, his hand going slowly to his cheek. He’s brought back to reality and chuckles to himself until he realizes what or rather who pulled him out of his reverie.

“Cousin, you have a beautiful woman for an assistant, with an incredible body! How have you never-”

“Lucas, stop, will you? Gabriela and I are just friends.”

“And you prefer the heifer?”

All he wants to do is clock Lucas right across his smug and arrogant face more than he has ever wanted to before - and Lucas has a natural ability to pull this reaction from Javi- often. But that will only make things worse. He knows he needs to stand up to his cousin, for many things, but it’s frankly dangerous to do so, so he brushes past and enters his bedroom, just relieved that between the closed door and the rapid Spanish. You probably did not hear what was said.

Bzzzzt bzzzt

You look at your phone

JAVI: Good night. :)

YOU: lol Good night Javi

YOU: sweet dreams

JAVI: I have no doubt. ;)

You stare at the last text. With confused astonishment, your face heats up. But, maybe he’s joking or…

YOU: cheeky

YOU: see you in the morning

JAVI: See you.

Javi looks at his screen, not sure what to say next or if he should say anything next. After a few moments just staring at it, he puts his phone in the charging dock and his hand goes back to the place you kissed it, it was just a little kiss, but he could still feel your soft lips there. He undresses and slides between his cool, crisp sheets and clicks off the light. Laying in bed awake, he listens to the waves crashing on the beach below. Javi thinks of you listening to them, too. He’s glad he chose to put you in a guest room on the same side of the hall. His mind goes over the day, wandering to your arms again, then your hips… how he would explore you if you were to allow it. His imaginings switch over to dreams of you in his bed, tangled in his sheets, breathing heavily as he feasts on you.

You wake to the sounds of seabirds, making you smile. It makes you want to wrap yourself in the incredible sheets and snuggle down into the soft pillows, but you fully remember where you are and what today is, and you roll off the bed, with a little skip as you hop in the shower. You and Javi are spending an entire day at the film festival, you’ll get to nerd out together over favorite writers, actors, directors, and the films they’ve made before anyone else has seen them. Even though you’ve never gone to a fancy festival with film creators or anything you feel that maybe you will feel more in your element with Javi. Thinking less about what he thinks about you now that he’s seen you and just be the person he befriended because of your shared interests.

After showering and putting on the sleeveless summer dress, a light shrug of a sweater, and sandals you had picked out for the event. You put on a little lip stain, leaving your eyes make-up free (who knows how much crying you may do. It looks like there may be a tearjerker or two on the schedule). You look in the mirror a beat more, and give a sigh. Swinging your bag over your shoulder, you go to meet Javi for breakfast.

Following the delicious smell of coffee to the dining room, you find the table is ladened with a beautiful spread of fruit, toast with tomato and olive oil or jam and butter, churros, empanadas, juices, and the smell of fresh coffee, all making your stomach rumble. But it’s Javi that makes your mouth water, he is dressed simply in a white linen button-down shirt and a blue blazer, his hair a little more tamed brushed back away from his face, but still curling around his ears. How is it that the orange of yesterday's shirt looks so amazing and now the light blue too? His brows go up when he sees you, his mouth opening just a bit. Then he breaks into his wide warm smile distracting you from the desire to run your fingers through his hair, for a moment anyway.

“¡Buenos días, mi sol!” good morning, sunshine

“¡Buenos días, Javi!”

Javi brings over a carafe of coffee to the table and pulls out a chair for you. You smile and shake your head, murmuring a thank you as you sit.

“We can have omelets made or…”

“Javi, all of this looks amazing.”

You both tuck in and chat about the schedule, what you are looking forward to, and the things you don't want to miss. Finding yourselves mostly in alignment.

“Do you,” you fall quiet, biting your lip, “Do you think I’m dressed okay, I wasn't sure how dressy-”

“You look incredible!” Javi says instantly. Then he waves his hand dismissively, “You know celebrities are going to do what they do, but for the rest of us? Perfecto!”

You look down at the patterned dress and smile, as Javi adds quietly, “Plus I like sunflowers.”

After both a boat and car ride you arrive in Barcelona-Saint Jordi, you get your passes and people watch. But it seems as though Javi is elsewhere.

"Javi? Is, um,” you worry your bottom lip, “Is everything okay?”

With a sigh, Javi looks at you next to him on a small bench, then looks down.

“I am sorry for my cousin’s behavior. I am so embarrassed. He is the literal worst."

Your laugh turns to a little cough of discomfort-

“I- well, thank you Javi, I appreciate that. But I’m used to it. It, well…”

“That does not make me feel better. You should not be used to such poor treatment. I should have said something”

“Well,” you swallow, ”thank you Jav-”

“I want you to be used to hearing how beautiful you are.” Javi’s words come out in a rush, then his eyes widen slightly at his own daring. Finally, he gives you a sidelong look to assess the damage.

At this you laugh like it's joke and a little absurd, giving his arm a little hug.

“You are the sweetest.”

Javi looks at you again, wondering if you think he's just being a supportive friend. Your tone makes him think so, and it leaves him at war with himself. He's not sure how you feel. Part of him is relieved in a way, and part of him desprately wants you to know. He wants to be courageous, to take the plunge! But maybe now isn't the time. While he's thinking about courage and plunges, you start to pull at his sleeve. When he looks at you, you give a little nod with your eyes going to the right. Javi looks, and there was Randell Cobb. Javi’s eyes go comically wide, making you giggle, and he starts flipping through his program.

“I did not even know he was still acting, “Javi hisses. “He was in-”

“Raising Arizona, I know,” you say excitedly.

“Of course you do,” he squeezes your knee, which is bare since the skirt of your dress is slightly hiked from sitting. It sends a shot of warmth up your thigh. “I mean he’s done other things but that was by far the best…”

“Is he in one of the films? He must be, right?”

Javi dives back to his program, and you keep watching everyone arrive.

After the opening remarks and the first film, you head to lunch and just walk around taking everything in. Javi has an almost permanent blush from the amount of people wondering what movie he's in, if he is an actor or model.

“It is very complimentary, of course… but all I want to do is tell them, ‘no I am a screenplay writer, read my script!!! Please!’”

"Well, you look like you belong here, no doubt. Handsome, tan, beautifully tailored clothes…"

Javi tugs you into an alcove, warm hands running up and down your arms.

"You belong here. You are a wonderful writer, and fantastic film and character analyst. Your breakdowns are one point!"

"I am a chubby (at best) woman, in a fifty dollar dress and a haircut that cost about the same, and I was splurging…"

"You got this lovely dress for fifty dollars? Wow."

You purse a tight smile and then laugh.

"Yes you can get one at TJMaxx, at a strip mall near you!"

A pair of glamorous willowy actors pass your little hiding place.

"You could fit two of these actresses in one of them."

"I like the one who is filling it right now," Javi says shyly, "and how she is filling it."

His hands traverse your hips.

Javi feels the soft plush curve of them, and his sigh carries a small, pleased hmm with it.

"Is this alright?" He whispers.

Your brain's throwing up .exe errors.

Your breathless "yeah" is almost a gasp. Javi is touching you, and liking what he feels through the gauzy fabric.

"We've got two more movies and then we go back to the hotel… but um-"

You mouths crash together. You both do your level best to be quiet, as Javi crowds you into the corner of the alcove behind a palm of some kind.

Part 3

💚THANK YOU FOR READING💚REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE MUCH APPRECIATED💚

If you care to read more Javi G or any of my stories, you can find my masterlist here, and if you would like to be tagged for any of my fics, you can find my handy dandy taglist form here.

[freakyjustgotfabulous]

Remember when I said I was gonna make a post about how shitty SOME of the g1 fans have been? Yeah, this is that post.

For context, I was a Monster High fan since 2010, before the dolls dropped when it was just a website. I used to tune in every other week for a new webisode on my iPod touch, my first doll was Gloom Beach Drac..I've been in the Fandom since it's inception, and I've seen some shit.

That being said, it is utterly appalling how some of yall out here have been with G3, especially in the beginning. I will never forget the amount or people who were blatantly transphobic about g3 Frankie, fatphobic about Draculaura, racist towards Lagoona, and now some of y'all are being blatantly racist and fatphobic about Venus and Catty?? We could not have been out here consuming the same media about being yourself, accepting everyone, and just being a generally decent and kind person, right? The amount of times little 10 year old me saw and commented on how they wish Mattel would have body diversity among the cast, or have more LGBT+ characters, let alone ones in the main cast, was way more than you think, and it's sad to see that some of y'all grew up to become some of the same mean girls who made fun of people like us in middle school for even liking the original g1 to begin with.

You don't have to like g3, however, some of yall need to really think before you post, because for the rest of us, it's really shitty when you're out here calling Drac and Catty obese (some of us are actually built like that!), being transphobic about Frankie, or being straight up racist when it comes to things like Lagoona's ethnicity, or Venus having black facial features. Contrary to popular belief, nobody is saying you're every "-phobic" or "-ism" in the book if you don't like g3, but it's real telling when you comment on how you don't like a doll who's only change is having more black facial features, let alone saying she "looks like a goblin", and are just oh so upset that the new Draculaura has thicker thighs to where you buy a whole other $25 doll, just to put her head on the skinner g1 Drac body.

It's crazy how some of y'all will bitch about "forced diversity", when Mattel is finally implementing the diversity we wanted to see as kids. Do better.

[drdemonprince]

I recently finished reading your book Unlearning Shame, and I absolutely loved it. I found the conceptual framework of Internalized Shame and your techniques for it so very helpful, especially when most ideas of mental health (anxiety and depression, trauma, etc.) have seemed insufficient and useless to me.

However, there was one thing that kind of bugged me the whole way through reading it. Your primary focus was the shame people face as part of marginalization, but often, this too felt insufficient for me. Like, I do face a lot of this flavor of shame: I'm an autistic trans woman, feeling like I'm cringey or childish or creepy or obscene or whatever are things that bug me daily, and restrict a lot of my freedom.

However, a lot of the shame I deal with stems from some kind of awful things I've done in the past, and this is perhaps the loneliest and most difficult kind of shame I deal with. To be fair, I think a lot of this has been very closely linked to my marginalization: people would interpret genuine mistakes of mine as signs I was some awful, manipulative predator, and quickly oust me from their friend groups as a result. If I had been an allistic cis man I would have faced far gentler behavior, or at least far more people would have justified the shit I did.

Regardless, very little in the book dealt with shame tied to guilt and wrongdoing. I remember there was mostly just this one tantalizing line about how even previous members of neonazi groups can benefit from speaking shame, but other than that, I didn't see much.

So my question here is, do you know how to deal with the shame of doing something really bad, and facing the consequences?

Thank you for asking, I'm glad you liked the book!

There are answers for you throughout the book, I think. Arguably, many of the examples of shame I outline involve feeling regret or shame over one's actions. People who do not recycle "enough" and feel profound shame and anxiety about it are people who have done something "wrong," in their minds. So are people who have repeated internalized transphobic/racist/fatphobic/etc messages to other people who share the same identities as them. These people's actions are systemically caused, and they are suffering from those same systemic forces that provoked them to take actions they feel bad about.

You aren't any more morally culpable than any of them, and you aren't qualitatively different from them -- even if you are likely telling yourself that what you did is so much "worse" and so much less justified.

You can find much of the advice that I apply to people who feel ashamed about an experience (a rape survivor, say), apply equally to you as someone who might have done something you view as "wrong." You can also look to the material in chapters 7 and 8 about finding grace and perspective for others who have done wrong to us, and apply much of that yourself. A person must be held in community before they can be held accountable, for example. Understanding the circumstances that contributed to your behavior is important, which it sounds like you've already done some work on, as is contemplating the needs you were attempting to meet with your actions, and the social supports you currently still need in order to move forward.

If someone has taken actions that go against even their own morals and they feel profoundly ashamed about it, I'd say they are generally still in a state of far-reaching systemic shame that goes far deeper and requires far more healing and support than just addressing the morality of their own actions. There's usually a lot of shame about one's identities, deprivation one is facing, fears of abandonment and attachment insecurities, and other major issues going on. Because a person wouldn't just violate their own moral precepts for no good reason.

No one wants to feel that they are a horrible person according to their own personal standards of goodness. A person's actions always make sense within their own context, and so when someone does something "wrong," either they have done something that they do not actually believe to be wrong, but fear societal judgement for, or they have been pushed to the brink by extreme distress, deprivation, abuse, indoctrination, political repression, exclusion, or likely a combination of those things.

I hope this is making sense. If you feel ashamed of something you have done, you need the exact same healing, safe vulnerability, social support, and trust as someone who is ashamed about something over which they have no control. There is no difference, you are no more deserving of that shame, and shame still will not prevent you from changing your behavior for the better. You can believe wholly that your actions in the past were wrong, and uphold your current values in the present, without deserving to feel any more shame about it.

[abby-howard]

Hi! I've been following your comics for a long time and just saw that you squatted over 200 lbs! Congratulations!!

I want to ask this with the best of intentions and good faith. Would you still consider yourself fat? I recently started weightlift training myself and there's this annoying fatphobic part of my brain that is always present whenever i start any type of exercise that says "oh, will this be the thing that makes me loss my belly?" And it usually gets drowned out by the learned body positivity telling me not to make that a goal and there's nothing wrong with my fat.

Tysm! And that is a very good question, thank you for reaching out.

I would definitely still consider myself fat-- I work out 3-5 times a week and have for years, and my legs are pretty muscular, which is nice! But I am a chunky person, and it's pretty clear to me at this point that even if I drown in anxiety every time I eat a piece of bread, that's not going to change XD

That acceptance has definitely shifted the way I think about the gym/working out for the better. My goals are no longer focused on maximizing calorie output, setting the gym up as a punishment for having the body I have, which would always send me into anxiety spirals about going. Instead, I wanted to make the gym a regular (non-stressful) part of my life, because I realized maintaining a baseline of fitness-- at whatever size I am-- is important to helping me remain independent and able to do the work I'm passionate about as I age.

I feel like this change in my relationship with the gym has been one of the more important changes in my life-- treating working out as something more like doing the dishes than some kind of major shift into a new, thinner chapter of my life. I figure that I probably have many years ahead of me, and with how much I value my independence, I want to make sure I can stay mobile and pain-free for as long as I can (so I can keep making comics).

That of course doesn't mean I'll never get sick, or that ppl who do get sick just didn't do enough squats or deserve to be stigmatized for it! But osteoporosis has cropped up in my family before, and lifting helps increase bone density, as well as building a good foundation of stabilizing muscles if anything ever goes wrong. It's helped get rid of back pain and improve my posture, and while I'm sure there's a technique component at play, I feel like I have lifting to thank for my wrist strength-- drawing all those tiny lines somehow hasn't destroyed my wrist, and is always easier when I'm consistently deadlifting!

And, of course, there's the confidence that comes with picking up a big heavy thing and putting it back down. I feel proud that I have a body that can do that, which is something I have never felt before, even with everything I know about body positivity. When I first started lifting I also had those little thoughts about how it might impact my waistline-- I think it's something that's so deeply ingrained in fat people to prioritize that it's really hard to shut off. But it eventually did stop, replaced with an honest desire to explore my body's ability to pick up heavy thing off ground. An exploration of my body's strengths instead of a punishment for its perceived faults.

I hope this was helpful and didn't just sound like an ad for powerlifting XD

[hatsunevitu]

both kyle and cartman joined the debate club in high school. kyle thought it would help him with his public speaking skills and improve his critical thinking, meanwhile cartman was just looking for an opportunity to release the anger and stress he had and fucking destroy someone in a verbal fight.

and – uh-oh, such a coincidence – they both joined it at the same time without knowing it.

kyle was obviously pissed off, and he was actually thinking of quitting, because the idea of spending school hours arguing with cartman didn’t really seem appealing to him, but eventually his pride wouldn’t let him simply give up.

“I can be in any club I want, and I won’t let Cartman fucking ruin it for me! You’ll see, dude, he’ll drop out in one or two meetings when I absolutely win him in a debate!” as he then explained to stan.

kyle was preparing for the first debate harder than for any of his normal school activities. he would spend nights perfecting his reasoning and making a plan for his speech, until he was absolutely sure cartman had zero chances to win.

the theme was something controversial like, i’m not sure, politics or something, and kyle was totally sure that cartman would come unprepared, because he hates anything homework-like, and he ususally prefers improvising.

he was wrong, though, as cartman has been preparing. he entered the classroom with a small stack of papers with his reasoning on them, he was smiling brightly and joking, and kyle for the first time felt insecure about his skills. he felt rather nervous as he knew that cartman’s charisma and the ability to tell lies in the blink of his eye made kyle look worse in a debate, but he still hoped the teacher had some common sense and wouldn’t let cartman blind them with his confident smiles and fake politeness.

but the nervous anxious feeling in kyle’s chest wouldn’t go away, so when cartman started speaking, kyle couldn’t just stay quiet, sighing irritatedly when cartman said things like “violence is bad”. as kyle knew damn well that’s not what cartman actually thought.

so when the debate was coming to its end and cartman was giving another hypocritical speech, kyle just couldn’t be silent anymore, interrupting cartman with his new counter arguments (and adding some insults as well). cartman, of course, lost his temper too, and the constructive discussion instantly became a heated bickering. teachers tried to stop it but when kyle and cartman are fighting literally nothing can distract them.

cartman: Look, capitalism is just the natural way of things. It's the perfect system, without it everything would fall apart!

kyle: How can you be sooo blind and ignorant to everything?! Capitalism breeds inequality, it's the reason behind a lot of problems in our society, you just don't know it because you haven't experienced all the struggles, you fat privileged fuck!

cartman: Oh, I’m privileged?? Well, you’re just a whiny jew who can't handle the truth. You're just jealous your greedy ass can't make money yourself!

kyle: Shut up, Cartman, I’m warning you!

after a few antisemitic-fatphobic-homophobic slurs they were both kicked out and banned from entering the club again.

they both seemed disappointed and annoyed by it, but cartman had a smug smirk on his face, feeling proud of making kyle mad.

they wouldn’t stop their fight though, arguing all the way back home, without being pressured or watched, and kyle caught himself thinking that arguing with cartman is pretty, well, addicting and he might actually be enjoying it.

at the end they decided it’s a tie, and for the goodbye cartman says something like “Well, you’re annoying as fuck, but I gotta hand it to you, you’re good at debating. Who even needs that stupid club, anyway?”

and kyle smiles, nodding. “Next week, the same time” he says already walking away from Cartman.

and they meet again, choosing a topic and preparing for the debate by themselves because they don’t need a club to argue with each other.

[anaalnathrakhs]

oh god ed reddit is having the “uwu anorexia isn’t rooted in fatphobia my mental illness is not abt you” talk again please god help me

fatphobia doesn’t mean “being a meanie to fat ppl” i’m begging you to use critical thinking skills for five seconds and apply what you know about literally any other form of oppression to this situation.

people’s point isn’t that you having anorexia makes them feel bad and therefore you’re a bad fatphobic person.

they’re pointing out how the deeply ingrained fatphobia our society upholds, from misconceptions about health to moralization of looks and weight, including yes being jerks to fat ppl’s faces bc they’re fat, is affecting what you think about your own looks, weight, health, body, clothes, eating habits, etc.

the logic isn’t “you became anorexic because you hate fat people so much you never wanted to be fat yourself (and that makes you a bad person)” it’s “fatphobia is a prism that transforms the root cause of your ed into disordered thoughts, behaviors, and patterns (and unlearning fatphobia will help you with recovery and harm-reduction)”

like. it’s not for no reason that anorexia is a disorder that disproportionatedly affects women. it’s not for no reason that there’s sky high comorbidity rates for eds and ocd. it’s not for no reason that people who need control in their lives so badly that they develop a mental disorder abt it get obssessed with being skinny and not with being a sumo. it’s not for no reason that ppl who feel the need to retract to childhood due to trauma envy things like being skinny light and frail, instead of being a tubby baby. it’s not for no reason that there is an incredibly common anorexic thought pattern (internal and self-directed, don’t make me say what i didn’t say) that associaties restriction and weight loss with moral goodness.

for each of these there IS a number of exceptions, but you can see case by case how the root cause (trauma, need for control, for self-destruction, growing up poor, whatever you think is “unrelated to fatphobia” basically) is processed through the prism of the fatphobic culture we’ve all been raised in. some people just, voluntarily or not, deal with those root causes in different way, which might or might not be healthy. but it’s a consequence of ambiant fatphobia that “i should starve and be skinny about it” is a statistically pretty common response to this distress.

the point isn’t “it’s fatphobic that you don’t deal with your neuroses in a body positive way uwu” the point is that no matter how cool you are with fat people on like, a personal level, you’ve been (like the rest of us) bombarded with fatphobic thought patterns your entire life basically, both directly fatphobic things and reactions to this fatphobia. maybe spoken to you directly, maybe not. maybe about you maybe about other people. you live in a society that places moral values into looks and health, and also pushes some deeply rooted falsehoods about how those things tie into each other. you have a disorder defined by obsessive behaviors. maybe, just maybe, deconstructing the logic that those obsessives behaviors are based upon will help you deal with this disorder. and recover or reduce harm.

basically, anorexia isn’t “getting skinny disorder” it’s “obsession disorder”, obsession with looking attractive, or pleasing your family, or going back to being a kid, or being healthy, or being fit, or being driven and capable, or being worth saving, or having your suffering known, or having control over something, or whatever. the fatphobia that is omnipresent (and i repeat, omnipresent, nobody is singling you out as a bad fatphobic meanie, or even talking about your behavior towards other people around you) in our society picks the direction in which many many people will express that disorder.

of course if you live in a society that tells you “being fat is morally bad” at every turn, when you start developping an obssessive pathological need to control things, without another factor weighting in, most people’s default reaction will be anorexia. food is a regular fixture of everybody’s life, everyone wants to be morally good, and even if we know/understand/believe to an extent the flaws of that “fat = bad” logic we know the world around us still believes it, and nobody wants to be treated like shit. we can think it’s stupid and fight against fatphobia and work to treat fat ppl better in our lives and support body positivity, but in any case, one always judges oneself on different metrics than they judge others, cuz we control our self-improvement. that’s natural. just it doesn’t mesh well with a pathologically obssessive need for control above self-preservation.

[thatslytherinbitch54]

Hello and welcome my loves 🤗 ❤️

Yes, this is an update version of my introduction page but who gives a shit? So, this is a lot but dw, I’ll bold the most important stuff. Anyways, Hello, I’m ThatSlytherinbitch, it’s nice to meet you. Give to know a little bit more about me and what you should expect from my blog:

I’m a Potterhead, I love making stupidly long Harry Potter analysis about certain ships and/or characters so, if you have any suggestions, feel free to ask me!

Oh, and that’s another thing, feel free to send me ask, i personally, LOVE receiving asks. Also, feel free to dm me whenever you feel like it, I’m always down for a chat :)

I’m a multi-shippers and I open to a lot of ships so, just be respectful about my opinions, and not just only to me but towards EVERYONE’S opinions (unless it’s hateful or offensive) Have your own opinions and don’t judge others for what they think, okay? Good :)

I’m part of the LGBTQIA+ community, I’m a lesbian, I’m Aegosexual, and I’m Demiagender. I go by They/Them and She/They

Random fun fact that nobody cares about: I’m Hispanic and Christian :)

So, this is very important. Like I said earlier, I’m a Potterhead, and with that being said… I disagree with She-who-must-not-be-named comments on Trans people. Fuck her!

DNI if you’re a bigot (Homophobic, Transphobic, Racist, Misogynistic, Fatphobic, Anti-Furry, Xenophobic, etc.) if you’re a Pro-shipper, if you’re very narrow minded, if you’re paedophile (I’ll keep this one updated)

This is a safe space for anyone and everyone except if you are someone from the DNI list I made. But everyone else is welcomed!

I should get this out, I use cuss words and slurs a lot, I only uses slurs that apply to me ofc, like the word faggot, like I text my friends a lot starting with “Hello faggot” HOWEVER, I would never use it on someone unless they have completely informed me that they are not offended by me saying it. Same goes for some other cuss words like bitch or whore or, well you get it.

I LOVE making friends and mutuals on tumblr so, please, I’m desperate lol. I also love to message people and interact with them but, I prefer it if they start messaging first since I don’t want to bother anyone lol. Oh also, don’t feel bad about tagging me in tag games, you’re never being a bother to me love and i personally enjoy being tagged, makes me feel special or something lol.

Oh this is very important: If and when you follow me, i message you a small thank you message, it’s nothing super personal but I really do appreciate to see that people support me. If you however feel uncomfortable comfortable with this, just let me know and I will not message you from then on.

Notice: I’m also a Gleek and I’m such a simp for Darren Criss lol, if you want more of that content then check out my side blog, @justasimp4darrencriss

(P.S. I refuse to believe that anyone has actually took their time to read all this shit lol)

Take care of yourself loves! ILYSM!!!

😘😘😘❤️❤️❤️

[miraclesabound]

When It All Goes to Hell

Summary: Shoresy manages to really fuck things up between himself and Reader, and while Laura is willing to help patch things up, things get ugly first. Sequel to "That Hits The Spot".

Pairing(s): Shoresy/Laura Mohr, one-sided (?) Shoresy/F!Plus Size Reader, eventual Laura/Shoresy/F!Plus Size Reader, background Sanguinet/Mercedes

Notes: I know this makes her a little more like an OC, but I'm now expressly writing Reader as a plus size woman, and Shoresy has given her a nickname related to her job as a publicist for the Bulldogs. She can still be read as any race. Set after Season 1. Any italicized dialogue is meant to be in French. Also on AO3.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol and drunkenness, romantic frustration, canon-typical language, past fat-phobia on Shoresy's part, Reader using Shoresy's first name, misogynistic and fatphobic language, sexual harassment, aggravated assault, mention of police, description of injuries, hopeful ending (Friends to Enemies to Possible Lovers)

Tags: @pettyprocrastination, @captainsbestgal, @magpie-to-the-morning, @deadbranch, @brewed-pangolin, @ironmandeficiency

When Shoresy calls you over to play foosball with him and Sanguinet and Mercedes, you figure it’ll be guys vs. gals like it’s been most of the evening at the lanes.  Generally, it’s been you, Nat, the twins and Mercedes on one side, and Shoresy, Sanger, Hitch, Dolo and Goody on the other.  However, he surprises you by nodding to his side of the table. When you ask, he says, “Trust me, Pubsy, small game like this – makin’ Sanger play against his sweetie would just be mean.”

Honestly, you don’t mind the nickname. You like your job as a publicist for the Bulldogs, and at least he didn’t choose Pubby. That sounds too much like “Tubby”, and you hope that your weight isn’t the only thing Shoresy sees about you. In the last few weeks since he helped fix up your back, you’ve found yourself getting more and more sweet on him.

You join Shoresy on the red team, while Sanger and Mercedes take blue. “Rules are simple,” Shoresy says. “Gals on goals, guys in the middle, reset the ball if no one can reach it, we’ll play best two of three, losers buy the next drinks.”

You’re decent at bowling and billiards, but it turns out that foosball is much more your speed. With your goaltending and Shoresy on the attack, you absolutely annihilate the other couple. A third game isn’t needed, and you even join Shoresy in a bit of trash talk before Sanger goes to get your victory shots.

You and Shoresy stay a team for the rest of the night, and his arm keeps ending up around your shoulders. The others aren’t blind to the two of you getting cozy. Hitch and Dolo make particular note of it, and their conversation makes Nat’s ears tingle, even over the noise of the bowling lanes.

“You think he’s wheeling the publicist?” Dolo asks.

“Dunno, me son,” Hitch responds. “But ‘s true that where she’s to, that’s where ‘e’s at.” He smiles. “They do make a right pretty pair – would knit a fine coupla’ little ones.”

Nat’s managerial instincts are screaming at her. When no one’s looking, she pulls out her phone and sets herself a reminder – she needs to talk to you within the week about this Shoresy situation.

--

“Am I in trouble?” you ask. Coming into Nat’s office during the day is rare – she usually leaves you to your own devices in your room down the hall.

“Not at all,” Nat promises. “But I need you to be straight with me about something – are you and Shoresy a thing?”

“Um…” you shrug. “We’re not officially giving it the old college try, but we’re not not a thing…I think?” You wish you could give a clearer assessment. You and Shoresy have spent time together every day this week, and he’s been physically affectionate, but he hasn’t tried to kiss you either.

“Fuck…” Nat mutters. You look at her funny, and she speaks more clearly. “Listen, you’re a grown woman, I can’t tell you who to spend time with, but there’s some shit I think you need to see.” She pulls out her laptop and opens it to a video link. “Did you watch the National Seniors Championship back in ’19?”

“Didn’t get the chance.” You come around to her side of the desk and crouch to see the video. You squint when she hits play – “Is that Shoresy and JJ?”

“Yup – and it wasn’t pretty how they met.”

Your eyes grow wider and wider as the video goes on. It’s not just Shoresy hitting JJ’s leg that gets to you, though that’s one of the uglier hits you’ve ever seen. What’s viscerally upsetting is what Shoresy is saying to JJ through the whole thing. You’ve heard some vicious anti-fat talk in your time, both directed at you and in general. However, the pure vitriol coming out of Shoresy’s mouth is enough to make you nauseous.

The video finishes, and Nat turns to you. “You see why I’m worried?” she asks. You nod your understanding. “Plus, he’s getting Laura Mohr to warm up to him. He’s cleaned up his act, but he’s still a loudmouth, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“No, no, I get it,” you say. “I appreciate the lookout.” You really do, even if you feel your heart deflating.

--

Nat’s words echo in your head for the next few weeks, especially after Laura finally accepts Shoresy’s request for a date. You hold out hope that it’ll just be a one-off, but when she starts attending practices and coming along to group outings, you know she’s Shoresy’s sweetie for real.

You don’t hate her – far from it. In fact, as she integrates into the group, you understand why Shoresy is into her. She’s more his type, especially with the age gap, and she’s just good fun to be around. This woman knows every joke you can think of and then some, she’s got good taste in movies, and when you see her around her kid, you recognize that she’s a wonderful mother. You’re even comfortable with her calling you P in front of the gang.

No, it’s not Laura who ruins things between you and Shoresy – it’s Shoresy himself. You understand him pulling away from time together; you’d be doing the same thing if you’d met someone. That part makes perfect sense, even if it stings. That said, when you see him, he’s still kind to you – or so you think.

However, one evening changes all that. You’re finishing up paperwork in your office, and you hear the guys on the team chatting down the hallway. You’re not above gossip, so you put your work down, trying to focus on what they’re saying.

“Think we’ll ever ask JJ back?” you hear Hitch ask. “The man could do his work, b’ys.” You’ve been wondering the same thing yourself – you know he ran back to Quebec after some woman trouble, but you never knew the particulars.

You hear Shoresy’s voice chirp back, “Not if I can fuckin’ help it – Frankie’s a fuckin’ coward who doesn’t know how to treat women. Fuckin’ walrus pulled Laurence LeBouef and didn’t worship at her fuckin’ feet? Fuckin’ fat loser…”

You tiptoe to the office door, close it as quietly as possible – and then go back to your desk and sob. Nat comes by to check on you about ten minutes later, and you tell her everything.

--

You’re not going to have Shoresy booted from the team; you’re not that vindictive - but you do cool considerably around him. You’re still cordial to the others and to Laura, but to him? You are winter incarnate. One time, he tries to tease you about something innocuous, and your response shocks him.

“Knock it off, Fenton, you’re too old for this.” NO-ONE, not even his dad, uses his first name. He doesn’t know how he stepped in it, but he has to make it up to you.

It’s Laura who texts you some time later, asking if the three of you can meet up at Doghouse. You haven’t been answering Shoresy’s texts or calls, and you know that he’s using Laura as a workaround, but if she’s going to be there with him, maybe this won’t be so bad.

On the night in question, you get there early, and you find a seat at the bar. You’re looking at your phone when someone taps your shoulder.

“Hey, is this stool taken?” The voice belongs to a decently attractive man with dark well-groomed facial hair and a stylish haircut.

“All yours – my friends’ll use these other ones when they get here.”

You think that’s the end of it, but instead of taking the stool elsewhere like you expect, the man sits down next to you. “Buy you a drink while you wait? I’m Rolland, but everyone calls me RJ.” You can’t remember the last time a guy took the initiative so quickly to chat with you. You ask for a whiskey and Coke, and RJ gets a tall pint of some beer you don’t know the name of.

The conversation flows easily at first – but then you find yourself ill at ease. You don’t know if it’s RJ’s mannerisms, or if he’s looking too intensely at you – but something here isn’t right. It doesn’t help that he finishes his pint rapidly and is already on a refill while you’re only halfway through your cocktail. When he asks if you want to leave with him after only about fifteen minutes of chatting, you’re only too happy to tell him no.

“Told you, I’m meeting my friends.” Your phone buzzes, and you see a message from Laura. “In fact, they’re parking now.”

RJ has been smiling, but now that smile turns into a snarl. “You got some fuckin’ nerve leading me on, you fat bitch!” Before you can chew him out, something crashes into your face and shatters against it. You lose your balance and hit the floor hard.

As you try to sit up, RJ is staring down at you with a twisted grin. “Not so high and mighty now, are ya?” He reaches out like he’s going to grab your hair, but in a blur, he’s shoved back against the bar, and Shoresy is there, his eyes burning like the wrath of God.

You’re so disoriented by the last twenty seconds that you think you must be seeing things – when did he get here? That said, Shoresy’s voice is unmistakable. “YOU DON’T HIT WOMEN, YOU FUCKIN’ ANIMAL!” He bellows, and he lands at least two punches on RJ, both to the face.

Someone touches your arm and you nearly jump out of your skin. “Hey, P, hun, it’s just me…” You turn, and Laura’s right next to you. “Can you stand?”

You nod, and she helps you up. Two bouncers are pulling Shoresy off RJ, and when you hear a siren, you realize someone must have already called paramedics, cops, or both.

--

The paramedics confirm that you avoided a concussion, but RJ isn’t so lucky. The small cuts on your face are also nothing compared to his black eye and broken nose. The cops even try to hold Shoresy briefly for assault. They don’t let him go until they get the video from the manager showing what happened. By the time it’s all figured, it’s past midnight, and you just want to go home. Laura’s been helping you stay calm, but when Shoresy finally comes over to check on you, you lose your shit.

“Fuck you, Shoresy!”

“Fer what?!”

“Fer bein’ a fuckin’ hypocrite!” you tell him. “I know how you feel about fat people; I heard you shit-talking JJ when he’s not even here to defend himself – and then you go and nearly goddamn kill someone because I’m insulted??”

“But Pubsy, it was more than –”

“I’m not fuckin’ finished! You do this in front of your sweetie too? Like I’m…fuckin’…like I’m yours to save? And now I’m gonna hafta explain this whole goddamn thing to Nat and try to keep it out of the news and….and…oh fuck me…”

You can feel tears stinging the edges of your eyes as the last of the adrenaline leaves your system. Laura lets you lean on her, and she tells Shoresy, “Babe, I think it’s gotta be just us girls for a minute – see you tomorrow?” Shoresy pouts, but he accepts a kiss on the cheek as a goodbye and he scoots out.

You and Laura sit down on a nearby bench, and she pulls a tissue out of her coat for you. While you dab your eyes, she says, “I’m not gonna tell you not to be mad at Shoresy, but did you actually see what it was that RJ hit you with?”

You shake your head. “Nope – just that it crashed on my face and I hit the deck.”

“It was his pint glass – and I saw that one of the shattered pieces looked like a dagger. I don’t read minds, but I know I feared the worst – and I bet Shoresy did too.”

A cold feeling runs down your spine as you remember the violent glint in RJ’s eyes. “You…you think he might have…?” You make the throat-cutting gesture.

“I dunno,” Laura admits. “But I know Shoresy doesn’t want to take any chances when it comes to you – he likes you a lot.”

You want to be happy about that comment, but everything just feels like shit right now. “I’m sorry,” you groan. “I swear I haven’t been trying to steal him – fuck’s sake, I’ve been actively pushing him away!”

“I know,” Laura says. “But…if he were to get himself figured out, would you … be willing to share?”

Your mental gears grind to a halt so fast that you’re surprised steam hasn’t come out of your ears. “….WHAT.”

“That’s what we wanted to talk about with you tonight before everything went pear-shaped.”

The idea Laura’s presenting is something you just cannot process right now. Your confusion must read on your face, because she offers you a hand to stand up and says, “Let me get you home so you can sleep – we’ll catch back up on this in the morning.”

[fatphobiabusters]

hello, i follow your blog bc its v good, and i realized i had a question you all could probably answer.

is it fatphobic that stomach circumference is rarely considered in standard sizing? like theres chest size, waist, hips, leg length etc. but i dont think ive ever seen stomach size anywhere. i know there has been general discussion about how clothes are only made for thin people, but i wanted to ask about this specifically. are there plus sized brands that include stomach circumference as a measurement? should they?

and while i think this would help with people who are fat throughout their body, i was also thinking it could be useful for people with "beer guts"- those whose stomach sticks out farther than their waist or hips in one direction.

thank you so much, your blog is amazing

I can't recall if stomach measurement is taken in any size guides. Your waist is usually midway down your stomach. Your waist being where you bend in modern size guides. Sometimes called natural waist. (Some places say it's the thinnest part of your abdomen but no thats a fashion industry thing.)

A general rule is dress for the biggest part thats being included in the garment. So pants should take waist/stomach measurement.

For example I found this. For the "beer belly" example. The right side has a smaller pants size but visually it has different impact. (Not to say anyone has to follow this advice mind you most people who do the right get to wear cool suspenders with it which is it's own fashion statement, what's normal is relative.) You'd measure your waist and find pants in that size. (You can tailor pant length with hem tape if they don't come in your length or hem them yourself.)

So waist is basically stomach.

Tbh from your example of measurements they are common in masc clothing and I'm not sure what's being shared around in those circles. But this is the best I know. If followers have thoughts please add on. But to answer your question no, but also I think there's a lack of education on how measurements should be taken and used. Especially "across aisles", as an aside I was looking up advice on how to dress when you've got a "beer belly" and it was so fatphobic. Like "you know you're disgusting but here's how to cover yourself for others approval" vibes.

-mod squirrel