Zine-o-ween
(prompts from @killswitchkatie)
The winter flirts and summer taunts
But only autumn fondly haunts
As we wander forth on cooler nights
We're bushy tailed, deers in headlights
No mornings see her sunny frown
As morning mists on skin bite down
No evenings find her heart clamped shut
As leaves are crunching underfoot
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Body horror
I am a cyborg because I’m disabled; metal and gears keep me up and moving
I am a vampire because I’m chronically ill; hungry for the life force coursing through people
I am a mummy because I’m disabled; all bandages holding together a failing body
I am a zombie because I’m disabled; all crawling dragging movements
I am disabled because I’m a human. I am a human because I’m disabled
my body is not horrifying so I am not body horror
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The hardest thing is recognizing
that sometimes pain is just pain
it's not a lesson
it doesn't help you grow
it just hurts
wordsbyalaska
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asking nerd Bakugou to give you a ‘pearl necklace’ and he starts grumbling about you tryna drain him dry but instead of pulling out his cock, he pulls out his phone to actually search for a pearl necklace </3
and to both his surprise and embarrassment, his phone is quickly tossed away in favor of you showing him what you’re actually asking for. he’s not mad though—not when you end up looking so pretty covered in white, grinning, and asking for another necklace <3
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I've accepted the fact that I'm not gonna heal from this cycle of darkness.
— evie b.d.
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Fat.
It’s a word that’s sitting in my stomach with weights tied to its feet. It’s floating down past the food I binged and then it’s watching the purge; making the toxic cycle complete.
It’s eating up space in my mind, this obsessive outlook about the size of my thighs.
I think I’d be happier, more loveable, and more confident if I was skinnier. I lie to everyone and myself about wanting to lose weight to be healthy when it’s all about the exteriors.
I know it’s not true, just my brain trying to make me want it more, by using a twisted methodology it has always used before.
My beautiful brain tries so hard to be helpful but, the whispered insults about my body to spur on change are only making me miserable.
I remind myself that the clawing voices in my mind won’t go away because I’m thinner, and I won’t magically love what’s in the mirror even if I weighed nothing more than a feather.
But, I like the grass.
No, not the bits of green in the salad, but the blades that reside on the other side of the mirror, where I assume the stars all shine clearer and of course my body is the type of unachievable perfection I’ve forever been dreaming of.
body dysmorphia is my best friend - t.k.o.
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