#and even though you lose the fat even though you lose the hatred you never lose that loneliness because you’ve lost the people who loved you | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

70% of Tumblr users say the Dashboard is their favorite place to spend time online.

#and even though you lose the fat even though you lose the hatred you never lose that loneliness because you’ve lost the people who loved you

thebunnyslibrary · 4 months

Text

Bucky Barnes Valentine's Drabble ❤️

wc. ~1500

pairing. Bucky x Curvy!Reader

summary. Reader is alone and in the gym on Valentine's Day of all days. Until the man of her dreams Bucky Barnes wanders in and offers to be her sparring partner...

an. I had a last minute idea for a drabble......that then morphed into TWO ideas!! Bucky is first up and I have another idea with Loki that I should hope to finish in the next couple of days. (PS I haven't forgotten my last Ficmas fic. I just kind of hit a wall and i'm still struggling to get over it. Maybe this will help.)

Also big shout out to @chasingmidnights for helping inspire me today ❤️

Going to the gym wasn't exactly your first choice of things to start your Valentine’s Day; but here you were. You preferred to come early early, still dark out early, for two reasons. First for being a bit of an early riser yourself. Usually not as early as you were today, but enough that in the summer, you were able to hear the birds sing at breakfast.

The second that there were less people to stare at you. Confident as you were in your curves, the world had not gotten used to the idea of fat people working out in gyms NOT to lose weight add you’d rather not start today, of all days, that way. Valentine’s Day. You had no real hatred for it. But you did get a little jealous sometimes when you walked in the office and saw so many other desks littered with flowers and candies. But you couldn’t recall a time someone had sent you so much as a single rose.

This year, you’d decided to take the self-care route. You’d ordered takeout last night and tucked it away in the fridge for tonight, along with a slice of your favorite cheesecake from the old-fashioned delicatessen down the street (family owned since the days Tony’s father running Stark Industries). You’d chosen not to weep for your singleness but instead use it as a night of rest and recovery. A good meal, a nice book and your favorite vinyl record along with a long soak in the tub were you self-loves tonight…and your now charging vibrator would take care of the other kind too. You just had to make it through the day.

Even though you were a desk jockey, there was a physical exam all SWORD agents had to pass. You weren't extraordinarily physically gifted, but you could kick but in Just Dance when you wanted to. Unfortunately, the virtual reality sparring simulator at the Avengers compound certainly wasn't as fun as silly dance moves to 70s music in your apartment You knew sparring with the examiner wouldn't be like this, but you had no one else to spar with. And that was where Bucky found you.

"If you'd like I can practice with you, agent." He’d startled you as you quickly removed the virtual reality headset and turned to see him standing there. It was amazing how well he fit into modern clothing. He was wearing a sleeveless shirt, showing off this metal arm. You’d never seen his arm this closes and you were in awe of the Wakandan craftsmanship. You'd long admired the former assassin, but never thought in a million years he'd notice you. He was the dark contrast to Captain America, the golden boy. Both were incredibly handsome but there was something mysterious about him that drew you to him. You could easily see why he’d been a lady’s man in the 40s. And you were just a desk clerk. You couldn’t compete with the women, all of whom looked like super models, that threw themselves at him.

You looked around, not seeing any one else and turned back to him, standing there and looking at you, a genuine smile on his face. You nodded and quietly responded.

"Uh...yeah. that would be nice."

Sparring with Bucky gave you a much better experience. Being able to actually fight someone who was there instead of just a simulation felt great. Even though you were sure Bucky was taking it easy on you, you were a lot stronger than you thought, not to mention quick. You were able to duck and dodge and lay a few quick jabs to his chest. And that was nothing compared to how confident you felt, and how good Bucky looked. He seemed to be enjoying himself, a smile never leaving his face. Once or twice you’d stared a little too long and he’d gotten a few jabs in, but you recovered quickly.

At one point he had his arms around you in a hold and you were amazed how warm he felt. His chest brushed against your back and you let out a little gasp that you prayed to God he didn't hear. But you saw the smirk play at his lips.

"Sorry, doll. I run a little warm cause of the serum."

"It's alright.” You said, sheepishly. “Your touch actually feels nice." You bit your cheek as you realized how wrong that probably was to say. To your surprise, Bucky didn’t mention it.

"Well the best way to pass a test is with the proper tools. Not with Tony’s toys." He said, rolling his eyes. “And your touch feels good too.” You raised your eyebrows in surprise before he continued “You’ve got a good strong grip.” He shot you a wink and you couldn’t begin to process what he meant when the sparring resumed. Bucky and you trained for a good hour or so and by the end you felt much better about the exam.

Bucky also took the time to show you a few new self-defense maneuvers. He was demonstrating a quick way to hit someone in the gut before raising your hands up to hit them in the face.

"It's one fluid movement." He guided your arms. By now you were CERTAINLY used to his touch. Especially in moments like now where you when his arms where wrapped around you to guide you. You'd never felt more safe and secure.

"Like this...." You jabbed your elbows backwards before swinging are your arms up, hands closed together and you FELT the contact against Bucky’s nose as you'd executed the move perfectly. But your pride turned to panic as Bucky grunted, then started a fit of coughing as you realized what you’d done.

"Holy shit. Oh my God. I mean... oh shit. Uhm. Captain America is gunna kill me.... Sargent Barnes uhm...sir...?? Are you okay??"

Bucky coughed a few more times, before his breathing finally shallowed. His hand was clutch his nose, now paying attention to that and feeling to make sure it wasn't broken before he finally spoke to you.

“Well doll, I certainly didn't expect you to knock the wind out of me twice in one day. But I'll take it. And you can just call me Bucky.” He said and you felt like you were going to faint. Had he just said what you thought he did?

"Wha...what...? Twice?" you said in disbelief.

“Sure doll.” Bucky admitted. “First was when I walked In here today. Though I have to say you've done it a few times before that" he admitted. “Like the other day when I dropped off that paperwork and you looked so beautiful in your blue dress.” He bit his lip, recalling the memory.

“You're not. You're not serious, right?” He couldn’t be.

“Yeah. Uhm. I am doll. I’ve been wanting to say something for a while but I was worried you were scared of me.” Your heart twinged a little and you gently placed your hand on his mechanical arm.

“Not at all Bucky. In fact, I’ve liked you for some time as I just…didn’t think you’d notice me. You could have any girl you want and I’m just a desk clerk.” You said. “Not a supermodel or a superhero. Or anything special."

“Hey listen to me. You’re absolutely gorgeous doll. Why do you think I’m the one that’s always bringing you everyone else’s paperwork.” You thought for a moment before you realized it was true. You’d never noticed it but while you often saw other Avengers dropping off work to someone else, whenever something had to come to you, Bucky was always the one to bring it. “It’s the highlight of my day when I get to see you. His words, full of honesty and admiration made your heart swell. He placed his flesh hand over yours and squeezed it tight. You gazed into the crystal blue pools of his eyes as he broke the moment.

“Besides everyone knows it’s desk clerks that makes the world go round. Trust me, My ma worked as a secretary for a while. The stories she could’ve told.” You both laughed at that and you loved his laugh. You weren’t sure you’d ever heard him really laugh before. It wasn’t as deep or boisterous as Thor’s. Rather it pattered and reminded you of summer’s rain on a wooden roof. And you loved the way his shoulders shook, even if it wasn’t that big of a laugh.

“Listen, doll, I know it's super last minute...and if you didn’t already have plans tonight… I We'll never get a reservation anywhere. But you could come back to my place and I could cook you dinner? Maybe we can watch a movie?” Bucky asked. You smiled and happily replied.

“It's a date.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes fic #drabble #Bucky Barnes Drabble #Valentine's Day #Valentines Day #valentine's day fic

138 notes · View notes

deathblacksmoke · 3 months

Text

Dramamine—Part 8

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Nick Ruffilo

Series Summary: Cynical, brooding bartender Nick meets too-earnest, pretty boy singer Noah when The Rabbit's Foot starts hosting an open mic night.

CW: angst, self-hatred, self-doubt, mentions of death and grief, i’m fixing things <3

*Content warnings are updated by chapter*

Word Count: 1.8K

Author’s Note: beta’d by @circle-with-me and @darksigns-exe, big fat colossal thank you for listening to me bitch and moan and whine and panic about this chapter for weeks. was really starting to think i’d never get this one out. anyway thank you everyone for your patience, please enjoy 🤍

dividers by @cafekitsune 💐

He doesn’t have the capacity to deal with it, the way they’ve been tip-toeing around him all morning. Folio flitters around wordlessly behind him, busying himself with one unimportant thing or another. Jolly has hardly made eye contact. Neither have said more than a good morning or excuse me.

Besides Jasmine, he doesn’t know what was discussed when Noah came in last. He’s afraid to ask, since it was seemingly enough to warrant the silent treatment. Or maybe they’re too nervous to scare him off again, but whatever it is, it’s making his skin crawl.

He’s inclined to let himself sit in it, allow himself to get used to the uncomfortable silence if it means not having to face any of this. But he already lost Noah—he barely had him to begin with, but he’d so quickly allowed himself to grow fond of him. It didn’t take any time at all to get used to how nice it felt to have him around, to wake up to a good morning text with a cheesy little emoji. He hadn’t had anything close to that in years. He’d forgotten what it was like, how much he liked it, how it made his stomach twist pleasantly. He wasn’t prepared for what a life without him would bring, how quiet and agonizing every moment would feel.

He can’t lose Jolly and Folio, too, not when they’re this close to being all he has left.

The bar isn’t nearly busy enough to distract him, anyway. He’s been here for two hours and no more than 2 customers have walked through the door, staying momentarily before walking back out. He’ll swallow his pride just this once, if it means breaking the deafening silence and going back to normal. Whatever his normal may be.

“Can we talk, or are you both going to ignore me all day?”

Folio leans against the bar fidgeting, while Jolly stares blankly at Nick with his arms crossed. It’s clear he’s going to have to do all the talking for the time being, and the idea alone turns his stomach. He hasn’t had a clear head in years, hasn’t had the ability to properly express himself in even longer, and he can’t do this.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?” he finds himself asking, feeling indignant and knowing he’s chosen the wrong tone, the wrong words, the wrong way to approach this. It’s made even worse when Jolly doesn’t respond, looks anywhere but at Nick.

He knows he fucked up. He knows he is fucked up, but they’re his friends, not Noah’s. They’re supposed to be on his side.

“I just—” he starts, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing. He’s humiliated enough as it is without begging for their support. “I just need you guys to be on my side. Please.”

Jolly’s arms uncross before he fixes Nick with a look that reads pity. He hates the way he shrinks into himself, feeling unbearably small, but it’s better than before. He prefers to feel pity over the miserable suspicion that he’s losing everyone.

“I think it’s time for you to let yourself have a good thing,” Jolly finally responds, and Folio promptly nods in agreement. Nick can’t help himself when his eyes roll back.

Maybe they’re right, but she’s the only thing he’s known for all these years. There’s a dread that overpowers him, nestles into his ribcage and twists, when there’s a moment he allows himself to consider letting go. He’s grown tired of the way everyone looks at him, though, like he’s this awful wounded thing.

Even after everything, he’s not used to this clawing emptiness that surrounds him. His head, normally torturously loud, sits quiet. He didn’t realize he’d have to lose one more person to finally have that. He always thought he’d be grateful when the moment finally came for him to have peace, but he finds that it isn’t what he wants.

He’d only just started enjoying the levity again, the feather-light weight of an existence with Noah in it. Now the silence, rather than peaceful, sinks heavily around him. He doesn’t think he deserves to have that floaty feeling, but he begins to wonder if it’s worth denying himself any longer.

“I can’t, Jolls,” he finds himself responding. There’s something caught in his throat, his vision blurring. He’s so exhausted. “I don’t know how.”

When Jolly sighs, it doesn’t feel like a disappointment. Jolly has always had the least amount of patience for his bullshit, but there’s a softness to his sigh, a sorrow that makes him feel awfully guilty.

“You have to, Nick,” Folio interjects. Nick feels as his body starts trembling—he knows something has to change, but he doesn’t know how to do it. There’s a comfort in Folio’s touch when his hand wraps loosely around Nick’s bicep, and he lets himself sink into it for a moment. There’s no fight left in him to stop the tears from spilling, feeling humiliated as he wipes them away. “Your life didn’t end at 29. You have to stop acting like it did.”

Hers did, he thinks to himself but doesn’t dare speak aloud. Even he knows that she would hate for him to be living his life this way. He can see the exact look she would fix him with, shoving at his shoulder, telling him to stop being silly.

She would be so ashamed.

There’s a beat where he lets the realization register before the door is being swung open, slamming violently back closed with an audible cracking sound.

He connects the thundering footsteps approaching to a face he distantly recognizes. His mind flits from confusion to a painful melancholy as he places her.

“Autumn?” he asks, but her pace doesn’t slow—her expression growing angrier than it was when she first stomped through the door.

He hasn’t seen her since the funeral, or heard from her in almost as long. He can’t begin to imagine what she’s doing in his bar, fuming, staring at him like she wants to wring his neck.

“We need to talk about Noah,” she says. It’s not at all what he expected, and his heart sinks.

There are so many questions he wants to ask, but none of them seem right. He watches pitifully as his circle narrows, as his life gets smaller and smaller and everything gets harder to outrun. Everything is all too connected.

He settles on the question that feels most pressing.

“Is he okay?” Nick asks, regretting it immediately as Autumn rolls her eyes. She always was a protective friend, more than once cornering him at a party when Jasmine had gone to the bathroom.

He’s grateful Noah has someone like that, though he’s not grateful to be at the receiving end of it again, no matter how much he deserves it.

“No, Nick, you destroyed him,” Autumn seethes, and it’s a punch to the gut, not that it surprises him. “He was so sure about you and now he’s been at home for days crying because you don’t want him. I can’t let anyone hurt him again, so tell me. What the fuck happened?”

The again that Autumn tacked on doesn’t go unnoticed. His heart shatters all over again when he thinks of Noah crying over him, feeling undesired or unwanted. Every decision leading up to letting Noah down was harder than the last.

He does want him. More than almost anything, he wants him.

“You know better than anyone, Autumn,” Nick tries to reason with her. It’s not like he wants this, exhausted and working against himself as he slogs through every day. “You knew her better than anyone. You know why I can’t—”

“No way is this about Jazz,” she says, interrupting him. She sighs, and there’s a softness in her gaze that he remembers. But she’s so, so angry, and he’s not sure who for. “She wouldn’t want you to be living your life like this. She loved you so much and she would be so hurt if she knew you were stopping your life for her. You know that.”

And he knows she’s right. He’s known it the whole time. It makes it all worse.

“I can’t let her go,” He miserably admits, on the verge of tears again. “Noah deserves someone better than me. Who isn’t so fucked up.”

Noah deserves someone perfect. He wants it to be him.

“He decided on you,” Autumn reminds him, matter-of-fact. “No one’s making you let her go, especially not Noah. But you can honor her memory by not letting her death ruin your life. Let yourself have a good thing. She would want you to.”

It’s like they rehearsed it, Jolly and Folio and Autumn. Let yourself have a good thing. He knows they didn’t, and that’s what makes it worse. That means it’s true, that he deserves it.

He considers it for a long moment. There isn’t a whole lot left to say. He’ll decide in the moment—he can’t screw things up worse than they already are.

“Should I call him now?” Nick asks, and Autumn raises her eyebrows, surprised. Jolly makes a shocked little sound. Autumn motions for him to go ahead.

The line rings and rings and rings. His anxiety spikes, and he’s sure it’s clear in his eyes. “He is working, at the shop,” Autumn tells him. “You could text.”

Can we talk?

A minute passes. Then two. Then five. He hates standing here under their watchful eyes, waiting for a text to fix his life. A read receipt, and still no response.

He wonders if Noah feels as panicked as he does.

Please, Noah. I have to talk to you.

The three dots that appear taunt him. The response comes quick enough.

Come by at 8.

He lets out a breath—the panic continues to rise, but at least there’s something. A chance.

“I’m coming by at 8,” Nick says, voice wobbly and humiliating.

Autumn nods, muttering out a simple good, see you then before turning on her heels and leaving, seeming awfully self-satisfied. He’ll have to thank her later.

“How are you feeling?” Jolly asks, sounding a little unsure himself. Folio claps him on the back so hard he stumbles forward, already weak on his feet.

He feels sick. It’s a good sick, he thinks.

“Like I’m going to throw up.”

Parked outside of Noah’s, working up the courage to go in, he does the only thing he knows will make it all feel complete. Permanent and real.

“Hi, honey,” comes his mom’s voice through the phone, clear and bright.

“Hi, mama,” he responds, taking a deep breath in. “I want to talk to you about a boy.”

Tags: @concretenoah . @circle-with-me . @darksigns-exe . @ladyveronikawrites . @agravemisstake . @monotoniscreaming . @cookiesupplier . @bngurngheart . @jiizzy . @screamsinsilver . @iknownothingpeople . @anameunmusical . @sitkowski

#bad omens fic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens rpf #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian rpf #nick ruffilo fic #nick ruffilo fanfiction #nick ruffilo rpf #nicholas ruffilo fic #nicholas ruffilo fanfiction #nicholas ruffilo rpf #noah sebastian x nick ruffilo #noah sebastian x nicholas ruffilo #deathblacksmoke works #fic: dramamine

53 notes · View notes

mrworldwideshoulders · 1 year

Text

give me novacaine || reader x myg

Lost and spiraling, Yoongi can’t stop himself from thinking about what he could have done differently to keep from losing you - if he'd been a better man, if he'd spent more time with you, if he'd been more affectionate, maybe he would have known sooner…and maybe he could have kept you from betraying him. Inspired by When I Was Your Man by Bruno Mars.

Pairing: reader x MYG (if you can call it that); feat. JK and Hobi Word count: 5.6k Rating: M / R (18+) Genre: angst, breakup au Warnings: descriptions of cuts, blood, and broken glass, (extremely) foul language, hobi being an angel as usual, jk being kind of a badass A/N: hey there and welcome! this is the sequel to my fic bang bang (shameless plug) so i would definitely recommend reading that one first because you will probably be a bit confused if you don’t :) actually really enjoyed writing this one, so i hope you enjoy reading it just as much. beta’d and bannered as always by the amazing april (@onmypillow-onmytable)! thx! ly - robyn P.S. I do not own BTS or their likenesses, nor do I own the music of Bruno Mars (lol), they just inspire me.

part of the unorthodox jukebox collection (masterlist)

“Wake up, sleepyhead.” A soft touch on Yoongi’s cheek draws him out of his slumber and back into real life.

“Hmm,” he grumbles, reluctantly opening his eyes to find you next to him, smiling gently, pale morning sunlight illuminating you from behind like a halo. “You couldn’t let me sleep a few minutes longer?”

“I couldn’t help it,” you say. “I like seeing you right when you wake up, all grumpy and half-asleep. Like a cat.”

Yoongi can’t help but let out a small chuckle. “I’ll get you for that.” He reaches out a hand to pull you toward him, bringing your face mere inches away from his.

“Good morning,” you say softly, staring into his eyes.

“Good morning.” He presses his forehead against yours.

“I was just thinking…” You hesitate. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Min Yoongi.”

“Oh? Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

You lean in suddenly, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. “A good thing, of course. A very good thing.”

A crack of thunder sounds, jolting Yoongi awake. Rain beats against the full picture windows, fat drops streaming down like tears. He blinks, the insides of his eyelids feeling like full-grit sandpaper scraping against his corneas.

He wasn’t dead.

He was still very much alive. And on top of that, still dreaming about you, even though you were gone and every part of him that had once held love was filled with his hatred of you, his empty apartment still echoing with the sounds of your betrayal.

How unfortunate. Especially the part where he was still alive.

He sits up slowly, peeling the side of his face from the leather couch, and his head throbs so sharply and violently that his vision clouds. “Fucking hell,” Yoongi mutters, fingers digging into his pulsing temples, as if that would solve anything. He takes a glance around the room. The place is a mess. He struggles to his feet, swaying unsteadily as his vision starts to swim again. It’s dark still but just light enough to indicate that morning is on its way, ready to remind him that he’d been just stupid and just desperate enough to be taken in by your ruse. Something crunches underfoot as he’s feeling his way out of the room. He reaches down, feeling blindly for the source of the noise, and a sharp stabbing pain pierces into the soft, fleshy part of his hand. “Shit!” he snaps. It’s glass. Of fucking course it’s glass. The remnants of a whiskey bottle lay in pieces on the floor, and he remembered now, that he’d thrown it at the wall last night. Blood pools in the dip of his palm, the cut apparently deeper than it felt. “Perfect,” he says under his breath. “Just perfect.”

The water in the sink runs red for what feels like forever, but it finally stops long enough for him to disinfect it and wrap it in a swath of gauze and medical tape. The wrapping is sloppy, but it’ll keep everything in place for as long as it needs to. He’s struck suddenly by another memory.

“Ah, fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck. That hurts!” You’re supposed to be chopping vegetables for stir fry, but he looks over to see you gritting your teeth, a bloodstained dish towel wrapped around your hand.

“Let me see.” Yoongi reaches for the towel, but you nearly yank your hand away from him.

“No! I can’t.”

“Why not?” He reaches for it again.

“I’m afraid to look.” You squeeze your eyes shut while he unwraps the towel from your hand. Blood still oozes from a small but seemingly deep cut on your middle finger. “My finger is still there, right?”

“What finger? I don’t see a finger.”

Your eyes shoot open. “Yoongi! Come on.”

“Made you look.” He grins, pulling you over to the sink. “It’s just a little cut. Here, rinse it off first, and I’ll bandage it up for you.” You wait silently, wincing slightly as he dabs disinfectant on the cut. He wraps the bandage securely but not too tightly around your finger. “There.” Yoongi lifts your hand and kisses it gently. “Better?”

“Much,” you manage, cheeks coloring.

Could he have done more? He knows he should have – definitely could have – been better. On one hand, he’d tried, hadn’t he? He’d tried to be gentle and attentive, to go against all of his past experiences with women and relationships; his mother, for one, and her incessant stream of boyfriends, an array of different faces that were all the same, faces who would all sneer at him on his way out of the house and tell him to straighten up and respect his mother. He’d ended up something like her anyway, for a time, an near-ceaseless series of one night stands and unattached partners filtering in and out of his apartment for a good part of his early twenties – but that was different. You were different. He hadn't ever loved any of them the way he loved you. He'd tried to never let you see the side of him that could be angry and sometimes violent. On the other hand – he should have known better. It wasn’t like you were his first anything. He should have known that some women wanted more than just your time. They wanted to be doted upon, made to feel special, surprised with the occasional gift or dinner out on a random Tuesday – and he hadn’t done a very good job of that. He wasn’t good at giving gifts, unlike Hoseok, who somehow seemed to be able to intuit the perfect gift for someone within minutes. He hadn’t ever gotten the impression any of that was something you wanted, and it certainly wasn’t something he wanted, either. He hated those types of little grand gestures. They were sappy. Cringe-inducing. Unoriginal. All qualities he’d never considered himself to possess.

Was that really all it would have taken for you not to stab him in the back? A surprise date at the nicest restaurant in the city? Could a bouquet of flowers on a random Wednesday make you call it off with every other guy you were seeing? There was no way it could be that simple, could it? If it was, then maybe all of his teachers were right, and he really was the biggest idiot in South Korea, if he hadn't managed to figure that one out. Yoongi closes his eyes and lets out a short laugh, his bandaged hand still humming with pain. “I really must be a dumbass, huh, y/n?” he mutters. “Stupidest motherfucker on the planet. Is that what you wanted? Fucking flowers?”

He checks the time on his watch. Quarter to six. Too late to go back to bed and too early to go to work. Not even go-getter Jungkook shows up to work that early, and despite being in charge Yoongi is never there before eight or nine unless he has to be. Well, someone has to clean up the glass in the front room, and he can’t show up for work still reeking of whiskey. Jungkook does pretty much nothing but eat and work out in his spare time; he’ll throw Yoongi over one shoulder like a sack of flour and carry him back home to sleep it off if he so much as catches a whiff, so a shower is in order before he can go anywhere. It may not be much but he’s got to do something to keep his mind off you and all of the little things he did wrong.

The shower does little to improve his mood or his raging headache, but the show must go on, as they say, and he forces himself out the door shortly after eight. As glad as he is to have you and your lies out of his life, he has to admit his apartment feels empty without you, silent in a way that it hasn’t felt since the first time he invited you over. Once he’s at work he quickly sequesters himself in his office, the door shut firmly behind him, and an hour or so in only confirms what he knows already but doesn’t want to acknowledge: he’s not going to be getting much of anything done today. The rain is still beating a lull against his windows, the task at hand is long forgotten, and a nap is sounding more and more appealing by the second. His mind is already starting to drift, eyelids dropping shut like window shades.

There’s a quick rap at the door, and whoever is out there doesn’t even wait for a response before it opens. “Yoongi-ssi?” Jungkook's looming figure hovers tentatively in the doorway.

“Hm?” Yoongi barely lifts his head from where it’s propped on his good hand. “What, Jungkook?” He can’t even muster up the energy to bark at Jungkook like he usually does when he hesitates a second too long; he can only turn his head slightly and squint in the younger man’s direction.

“Is…everything okay?” Jungkook says finally, stepping further inside. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks for that,” mutters Yoongi, eyes still half-closed. “I’m fine. Go away.”

Jungkook ignores him. “You really don’t look so good, Yoongi. Are you sure you should be here right now?”

“I said I’m fine,” he snaps, wincing as a sharp pain shoots through his head. “Don’t you have work to be doing?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

“So get out of my office and go do it, then.” Yoongi scowls. “I’m not paying you for your company.”

“Okay,” Jungkook says, eyebrows pinching in concern, “but, you know, I would understand if you wanted to take the rest of the day. We don’t really have a lot going on at the moment, just a couple of small cases. I can take care of things for a day or two. That’s kinda why you hired me, isn’t it?”

“I’m fine, Jungkook.” Yoongi lets out a heated sigh. “What I want is for you to leave me alone. Please,” he adds as an afterthought. “Just go away.”

Jungkook doesn’t budge, instead staying firmly rooted in front of the desk. “What happened, hyung?”

Yoongi doesn’t speak right away, knowing exactly what Jungkook is asking. “It’s over,” he murmurs. “She’s gone. That’s all you need to know. I don’t want to talk about it.” No need to tell him how you tried to defend yourself, even with the photographic evidence right in front of you, or any of the horrible things you both said to each other, or about the deafening silence that fell after you stormed out, the long night of beating himself up over every little regret that followed and trying to drown out the voices in his head.

He eyes Yoongi skeptically, gaze twitching from his face to his bandaged hand. “You didn’t do anything…crazy, did you?”

“Of course not,” he grumbles, shoving the injured hand under his desk. “Y/n L/n is still out there walking around on her own two hooves, I promise. Jesus, Kook, who do you think I am, huh? I may be impulsive but I’m not stupid enough to kill anyone.”

“Then…what did you do to your hand?”

“Broke a bottle. Sliced my hand open while I was trying to clean it up. Any more questions, or can we move on? I’m really not in the mood for this.”

“No, I guess not,” Jungkook says quietly, dropping his head to avoid eye contact. “I’m sorry. I know how you felt about her, but…it’s for the best.”

A rush of anger floods through him. No, you don’t. You don’t know how I felt. You don’t know what it’s like at all. Being unwanted, everyone, yourself included, wishing you would just disappear, then thinking finally, here’s someone who accepts you, someone who loves you, despite every bad thing you’ve ever done, only to have it all blow up in your face because she never loved you, she was only stringing you along for her own amusement. It’s mortifying. You don’t know anything. And I hope to God you never do. I hope you stay blissfully ignorant of the way real pain and heartbreak feels, because it’ll make you want to crawl into a hole and die. He doesn’t say any of what he’s thinking and simply shrugs. “What’s done is done. Like I said, I don’t really want to talk about it. Let’s get to work, huh?”

“Yeah. For sure.” Jungkook turns to leave, then hesitates. “She wasn’t a good person, Yoongi. I wouldn’t lose too much time thinking about her. There’ll be someone else one day. Someone who’ll be a better match for you than she ever was. I guarantee it.”

“It’s fine,” Yoongi says, though it isn’t. “I’m already past it. Just go, okay? Close the door on your way out.” What is it with Jungkook and making promises he can’t keep? That’s his problem right there, guaranteeing this and that and hoping for the best when the only thing anyone’s guaranteed in life is death. For all Jungkook knows Yoongi is destined to die alone, just like you said, and even that would be more than he could have hoped for. Maybe you’re right, and no one will ever love him but you, not that you had ever really loved him anyway. He knows he’s hard to love: stubborn, ornery, a little too private for most people's liking. Spend most of your life getting knocked around the way he has and it's no wonder no one wants anything to do with him. He's damaged goods, after all. Scratches and dings everywhere. Too much baggage for even the most sainted person to deal with. Maybe he is better off alone. It’s lonely, but no one gets hurt that way. Hearts stay guarded, hearts stay intact. Is that the secret?

Almost as soon as Jungkook leaves, his phone vibrates on his desk. His number is private, which means it can only be one person. He sighs and allows the call through. “Yeah?”

"Yoongi-ah!" Hoseok's exuberantly cheerful voice breaks through the speakers. Yoongi has always wondered how one person can be in such good spirits all the time. "I'm glad I caught you. I was wondering, did you mean to call me last night?"

"No," says Yoongi. "Just an accident. Sorry.” What he doesn't know won't hurt him.

"Huh. Okay." Now he sounds skeptical. He can almost see Hoseok’s face pursing into a frown. “Because I could have sworn I heard—”

“It was nothing, Hobi,” he says firmly. “I was drinking and I must have bumped your number or something. That’s all.”

“Drinking on a weeknight? Is everything okay?”

Damn it. Why does Hoseok have to know him so well? “Everything’s fine. Had a rough day at work yesterday. You know how it is.” Hoseok doesn’t know exactly what it is he does for a living, but he has some idea.

“Well…okay.” He can tell his friend still doesn’t believe him. “I guess I was imagining things. But, you know you can always talk to me, right? If there’s ever something you want to talk to me about. I’m here to listen.”

“Yeah. Of course.” Yoongi swallows hard, the words sticking in his throat.

Hoseok continues. "Anyway, while I’ve got you, I was going to ask if you wanted to come over for dinner sometime. It's been forever. Hyorin and I would love to see you. And when are you going to come see your godson? Junho has grown so much, you’d barely recognize him if you saw him.” Junho is what, six months old now? Hoseok and Hyorin had insisted on making him Junho’s godfather when he was born, despite Yoongi’s protests, saying there was no one better for the job than him. “Bring y/n with you. We’ve been dying to meet her. And I have to see for myself the woman who managed to crack through that tough outer shell of yours so quickly.” Hoseok likes to claim that it took a year’s worth of his mother’s lunches for Yoongi to crack even slightly, while for you it only took a matter of months to get right to the heart of things.

His words stab at Yoongi's chest like knives. “Uh…yeah. We’ll have to get together sometime.” Coward. The word floats in front of his eyes again, the same way it did last night when he hung up instead of talking to Hoseok. What kind of coward are you that you can’t even tell your best friend that it’s over, that she’s gone, that she played you for a fool? How long are you going to go on dodging him and letting him think everything is fine when it’s not? “About that,” says Yoongi. “Y/n and I – we broke up. Yesterday.”

“What?” Yoongi can tell Hoseok is genuinely floored by this. “Are you — really? What happened? Didn’t you say you were about to ask her to move in with you? Officially?”

Yoongi chuckles bitterly. “We discovered some, uh, irreconcilable differences. And she cheated on me. With multiple people.”

"Yoongi..." Hoseok sighs. "I'm sorry. I wouldn’t have said anything if I’d known. You doing okay?"

“Oh, I'm fine,” Yoongi says dismissively. "I'll get through it, I always do. You know me. Anyway, better to have that all out in the open now than later, right?” He can’t even force himself to imagine what it would be like if they’d been married. At least ten times worse, probably. Would he have ever even wanted to be married to you? He’d barely even begun to think about the possibility, to picture what it would be like to have you as his wife, to start a family with you. A happy little family, something he’d never had before. The very idea repulses him now.

“You don’t have to hide it, you know.” Hoseok seems to know something he isn’t letting on. “It’s okay to be upset. That was a shitty thing for her to do. It’s a shitty thing for anyone to do. You wouldn’t be the only one to—”

“Aish, seriously, I’m fine.” Yoongi rubs at his forehead in frustration, unwilling to admit that Hoseok is absolutely right. “I knew it was all going to come to an end sooner or later. Everything does for me. It just came sooner than I expected.”

Hoseok pauses momentarily, and for a second Yoongi wonders if maybe he’s gone too dark on him. ”Listen, why don’t you come over tonight instead?” Hoseok says finally. “Hyorin is making dakgalbi. I know it’s your favorite, and she always makes enough to feed the entire military. You should come. We can catch up. What do you think?”

Yoongi lets out a humorless laugh. “Your wife, who likes me for some reason, just so happens to be making dakgalbi the day after I find out my girlfriend has been cheating on me for the better part of our relationship? Almost sounds too good to be true.” Just as it had been for someone like you to have any real interest in him at all. Too good to be true.

“It must be fate then.” He pictures Hoseok shrugging. “And you shouldn’t argue with fate, right?”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll take my chances. I’ve managed so far, haven’t I?” Managed to screw everything up and drive everyone who matters away from you, he thinks. “I don’t think I’d be very good company right now, anyway.”

“Okay, well, if you won’t come over for dinner, I’ll bring you leftovers tomorrow. How about that?” Hoseok is just the same as he’s always been: trying to take care of Yoongi when it should really be the other way around. He must have had such a glowing, happy childhood to end up this kind and caring as an adult. How had a fuckup like Yoongi ever managed to become friends with someone as pure as Hoseok?

“Fine,” he relents. “You do that. But call first, okay?”

“Of course.” Voices sound behind him on the other end of the line. “Listen, I’ve got to go now, but we’ll talk tomorrow, all right? And Yoongi?”

“What?”

“It’s not your fault. I know it hurts right now, but she chose to cheat all on her own. You didn’t make her do it. So cut yourself some slack, okay? Someday it’ll all work out.” Why does everyone keep trying to tell him that? It’s all just empty platitudes anyway. Nothing works out for him. It never has. In fact, it’s surprising that his own company hasn’t crashed and burned yet.

He hears your scornful voice in his ears again. If you’d paid more attention to me, you would have figured it out sooner. You don’t care. You never cared. Would Hoseok still be saying that if he knew the whole story about what I was doing back then? Yoongi wonders. Would he still choose to see only the good in me? Would he still be willing to call me his friend? Godfather to his firstborn child? Anything at all? “Yeah, right. I’m sure. Thanks anyway.”

“I’m your best friend. It’s what I’m here for.” Hoseok hangs up.“You’re my only friend,” mutters Yoongi dryly, long after the line has gone dead.

He should not be doing this. Not today. But he’d insisted to Jungkook that he was fine, and being fine meant leaving the office for a few hours to do some surveillance for a case they were working. It wasn’t as if Jungkook had forced him; if anything he’d basically told him that he could handle it on his own, as he’d been saying all morning, but that it was easier for two people than one, just in case anything happened. Yoongi had decided to come anyway, his headache having tapered off some, and the distraction would – hopefully – keep his mind off everything, namely you. He was beginning to regret that decision, almost as soon as he’d made it. The rain still hadn’t let up, and the guy they were supposed to be tailing hadn’t moved from his table at the cafe where he’d been sitting for the past forty-five minutes. It was hard to believe that the client thought that this guy was even a threat to their personal safety – but a job was a job, and a paranoid client with deep pockets was better than no client at all.

How things had changed in the past ten years of his life. Ten years ago he was still pickpocketing people like his client, on top of working long, miserable hours in the kitchen of some god-awful restaurant, having to scrape just to put food in his mouth and pay the rent on his tiny shithole of an apartment. Of course his mother had been no help; she’d been the one to kick him out in the first place, claiming she’d already done her duty by allowing him to live rent-free under her roof for nineteen years, as if he were just some freeloading roommate and not her son. Yoongi’s thievery had started innocently enough, as innocent as lifting wallets off unsuspecting people could be. A means to an end. That was all it was ever supposed to be, a way to supplement his measly paycheck when things were tight. Then the wrong people had taken notice of his talents, turning it into something far bigger and far darker than he had ever intended for it to be, and sending him hurtling down a path he’d never wanted to venture down, but found himself unable to stop until it was almost too late. Was it his fault, then, that things had ended up this way? All of his past transgressions, everything he’d done and regretted now, falling in love with someone who would never truly be his in any capacity - had all of that been preordained the moment he lifted that first wallet in Gangnam Station? Yoongi was starting to think you might be right, that no matter how much good he did, no matter how many people he protected and thefts he prevented, he would always remain the same on the inside. He could put on an expensive suit and cut his hair and act like he was doing it all for the greater good, but deep down he’d always know it was just that: an act. He was, in the purest sense of the word, a fraud. Just as you had said. A fraud, a liar, and a thief.

What if you did decide to go back on your word? What if you told everyone – his clients, his colleagues, his friends – about how he’d gotten to be where he was? Would it make any difference? He’d threatened to reveal it himself – but would he? Could he allow everything he’d so carefully built to come crumbling down like a house of cards? If any of that happened he would be right back where he started ten years ago. Alone. Hoseok probably wouldn’t want anything to do with him if he knew what Yoongi had done to get by, certainly wouldn’t want him anywhere near his wife and son. Jungkook, perhaps, could be counted on to stick around, but Yoongi wasn’t holding his breath. Maybe that would be a good thing. No more secrets. No more lies. No friends or associates. A fresh start.

“Yoongi-ssi?” Jungkook’s voice crackled in his earpiece, startling him back into reality. “Status report?”

Yoongi glanced up at the man’s table, which was currently being bussed – because it was empty. “Fuck!” he swore under his breath, hurrying out onto the street.

“Something happen?” says Jungkook.

Yoongi sighs angrily. “Something happened, all right. I lost him, Kook.” The guy might not have been dangerous, but he’d walked away right in front of him – and Yoongi hadn’t even noticed because he was lost in his head, daydreaming about the past. How stupid did he have to be to let that happen? “He was there two minutes ago, I swear.”

“Shit,” he hears Jungkook mutter. “Well, he’s on foot, he can’t have gotten far. I’m in the area. Let me see what I can do.” Jungkook goes silent.

Yoongi paces on the sidewalk, unsure what to do with himself. He’s never lost a tail before, not like this. Not even someone trying to lose themselves in a crowd could shake him off. He’s useless. Especially today. The rain pours, pelting painfully against his skin.

Pathetic, sneers your voice in his head again. I thought you were supposed to be good at this.

“Got him.” His colleague’s triumphant voice finally breaks through after what seems like an eternity. “Headed for the subway station. We’ll probably lose contact once I’m underground, so I’ll touch base once I’m topside again.”

He used to wonder where Jungkook would be without him – probably still working for the gangster his father owed money to, still under the guise that he’d be dismissed whenever the debt was paid – but now Yoongi wonders where he’d be without Jungkook. The kid is too good for this business, he thinks, and should really be doing something more honorable with his skills. Police work, maybe, or working in intelligence, not private security. Something entirely unrelated, even. He’s far too talented to waste his life working for someone like Yoongi. “Good.” He exhales a sigh of relief, pinching at the space between his eyes. “Stay on him.” Jungkook doesn’t need him, not anymore. Maybe he never did. Maybe that was just something he’d always told himself to make himself feel better about essentially hijacking the trajectory of Jungkook’s life. “You going to be alright if I head home? I don’t think I’m going to be much use here.”

“I’ll be fine, but…” Jungkook sounds like he wants to say something else but holds back. “Okay. Have a good night, boss. I’ll update you when I get back to the office.”

“Thanks.” says Yoongi gruffly. “And…I’m sorry.”

"Don't worry about it," says Jungkook. "I've been telling you to go home all day. Go on, I've got this covered."

Yoongi chuckles wryly before he pulls his earpiece out. Home. That might be the last place on earth he wants to be right now. But where else is he going to go?

It’s been a long day. A very long day. One with a lot of thinking, and still more to go. The front room is back in order and dark shadows are beginning to fall around him as the rainy afternoon gradually fades into night. He's staring out at the city skyline, lights blinking on one by one like stars, contemplating his next move when his phone vibrates. Jungkook, presumably with an update on today's subject. "Nothing too interesting to report. You were right, the guy’s harmless."

"Hah," Yoongi scoffs. "I wouldn't take my word for it."

"I'll keep an eye on him," says Jungkook, "and let you know if anything else comes up."

"Sounds good." Yoongi hesitates. "Listen, Jungkook…about earlier. I'm thinking about taking some time off work. Do you think you could handle things for a while?"

"Of course I can. But how long is a while?"

"I don’t know. Indefinitely?" The line goes silent and Yoongi is momentarily afraid that he's lost him. "Kook, you still there?"

"Yeah. Still here." Jungkook sounds stunned. "I was trying to figure out if you just said what I think you just said. You said indefinitely, right?"

"As in, I'm not sure when I'll be back? No, you heard me right."

"Well…why?" He pictures the puzzled look on Jungkook’s face, eyes widening, eyebrows scooting together in confusion.

Yoongi lets out a sigh and stares down, examining the bandage on his hand. “Got some things to sort out. I’m not sure that I can trust myself right now, and I don’t think I should be doing this when I can’t even trust my own judgment. It’s risky for all of us. Someone could get hurt.” That’s all he wants. Just once in his life, for people to stop getting hurt because of him.

“Right. I understand that, and I recognize what you’re doing, but Yoongi, you know what you’re asking, don’t you? A couple of days is one thing, but I have no idea how to run things for that long. Especially when I don’t know when you’ll be back. You know I don’t mind doing it, it’s just…a really big ask.”

“I’ll be back, Jungkook. It’s not like I won’t.” Yoongi chuckles. “You’re the only one that’s qualified. And you’re the only one I trust to do this. I can trust you, right?” The question is almost rhetorical. The kid has more than proven himself in the whole time he’s known him.

He hears Jungkook take a deep breath. “Of course. You can count on me, hyung. I’ve got this.”

“That’s good to hear.” Yoongi does feel bad about leaving it all on Jungkook to pick up the slack, but he knows he can handle it. Things will be just fine without him, at least for a while. Everything always has been. Black Swan might even be better off with Jungkook at the helm instead of him. “I’m sorry for dropping this on you at the last minute.”

“Please,” Jungkook scoffs. “I told you, I’ve got this.” His voice changes, growing softer, less brash. “So…what will you do while you’re gone?”

“Hm. Not sure yet.” Yoongi smiles faintly. “You know, I’ve never really been on a vacation. Maybe I’ll leave the city, go somewhere sunny. Tropical and warm. Maybe the mountains.”

“That’ll be nice.” There’s a beat of silence. “So…this is it, then,” Jungkook says. “You’re really going.”

“Don’t get all sappy on me now, Kook,” says Yoongi briskly. “I’m your boss. We’re not really friends, are we?” They’re not friends, not just colleagues. They’re partners. Is that really any different?

“Yeah. Sorry. Well, good luck, boss. I’ll be here, as long as you need me to be. I hope you get everything figured out.”

“Yeah.” Yoongi heaves another sigh. “Me too. Goodbye, Jungkook. I’ll be in touch.” He hangs up before Jungkook can get any sappier on him and stares down at his hands again. He’ll leave town, maybe in a few days or so, go somewhere far away and stay there until it feels right to come back. But there’s one last thing he has to do tonight before he can go anywhere.

The door in front of him swings open, and the savory smell of stir-fried chicken wafts out. “Yoongi?” Hoseok looks him up and down, taking in Yoongi’s rain-soaked appearance. “What are you – did you walk here? It’s pouring out. You’ll get sick.” Same old Hoseok, the mother he never had.

“Hobi,” he says, ignoring his friend’s fussing. “Sorry I didn’t call first, but I was in the neighborhood and I got to wondering…does that dinner invitation still stand?”

“Always, but…” Hoseok falters. “I thought you said—”

“You know I can’t resist free food.” Yoongi smirks. “And…” He hesitates. His past is dark, littered with thorns and broken glass, winding paths to hell built upon good intentions. He can’t change that. But he can change his present – his future, too. And it starts with being honest with the people around him, whatever the fallout may be. No more secrets. No more lies. Especially to the people he cares about. “I decided I could really use someone to talk to.”

“Okay, well – get in here, then.” Hoseok pulls him inside, where it’s warm and bright and filled with life. “We’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

Things will be better without you. Not now, but eventually. Maybe someday it will all work out like everyone keeps trying to tell him. Maybe there is still happiness to be found in this life.

#mrworldwideshoulders #bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts angst #bts series #bts x reader #bts au #reader x yoongi #reader x suga #reader x min yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi angst #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi x reader #breakup au #bts x you

91 notes · View notes

genderqueerdykes · 2 years

Note

hey uhhh do you think it's fatphobic to want to lose weight? i promise you i'm asking this in good faith, and i will NEVER see fat people as inherently ugly/unhealthy and i would not comment on a fat person's body or even suggesting them to go on a diet, but if i want to lose weight for myself, is it fatphobic or am i having internalized fatphobia? i know @/bigfatscience said that it's impossible to lose weight in a healthy manner and i completely agree, however there are material consequences that i fear if i gain weight any more than i already have, e.g. the available feminine and sexy clothes in the stores, online or offline, are only go up to size L especially in my country, other clothes literally don't fit in my size, something like that, so if this is the case, what should i do? or maybe i am too paranoid at this point? for reference i'm a size 8 - 10 US and my height is 4'11"

i personally do not think it is inherently fatphobic to want to lose weight, however, it depends on the reason why you want to lose weight, you know?

i've been plus size my whole life, always hovering around the 300 lbs mark and i've dealt with a lot of internalized fatphobia my whole life. when i was younger, i wanted to lose weight specifically because i thought that fat on my body was ugly, that fat = unattractive. if you want to lose weight because you're finding the fat on your body unattractive, that's more to do with unresolved internalized fatphobia

if you want to lose weight because you're at a weight that's hard on your body, like for example, i got up to 360 lbs at one point in my life and it was in fact increasing my chronic pain issues and causing issues with breathing and whatnot. being fat does not inherently cause pain, but it can exacerbate existing chronic pain if you have a lot of weight on your joints, pressing on certain areas of your body, and so on. if you are concerned for your health in that manner, that is a very healthy and valid concern. i've dropped back down to my normal 300 range and my pain has gone down significantly

thinking "i should lose weight because fat = unhealthy" is internalized fatphobia, thinking "i'm unattractive/unappealing because i'm chubby/fat/plus size, i should lose weight" is internalized fatphobia, that sort of thing. i will say i have lost weight also specifically to be able to more easily fit into cuter clothing without having to special order it, and i don't think that's fatphobia on our behalf, but rather society's.

so what i'm getting at is it's not always bad to want to lose weight. you can have very valid reasons for wanting to change your appearance, as long as you aren't feeling bad about yourself or feeling like you're ugly or that your problems stem from being chubby, fat, having rolls, a big belly, etc. it's okay if you do have those feelings though because society is so aggressively hateful toward fat people, so it's alright if it takes some time for you to unwind any thoughts like that

i hope that helps, i don't think it makes someone a bad person for having these thoughts or anything like that. society is just very aggressive and it takes time to love your self image, it really does. it comes in steps and weight is a really hard one to come to grips with, especially if you are trans, because it can make chest binding, obscuring hips, etc. harder. i hope that helps! take care of yourself, it's okay to love yourself at whatever weight you are now, but it's also okay to want to strive for a different look, too, as long as your motivation is rooted in self hatred, but in self care. take care!

#asks #answers #fatphobia

47 notes · View notes

transfaguette · 1 year

Note

Ok so idk what post you’re talking about, but personally my frustration with the whole body positive/fat liberation thing is like, they say if you’re fat you have to stay fat. Trying to lose weight or being proud of losing weight is fstphobic, according to them.

I hate, no, despise being fat, on account of the feel of it, and the aesthetics. I hate the feel of being fat, I hate the way I look because I’m fat. Hell, it doesn’t even feel like MY body because of it. My life is ten times worse because of it. I just want the fat gone.

Listen I get you, I have a constant struggle with my body and I've tried to lose weight at all costs. I still wish I was skinnier. And I do believe in bodily autonomy, so whatever you do with your body is your choice.

But a desire to lose weight is inextricably linked to the fatphobia in our society. And there are other fat people who don't want to be in that environment. They don't want to be around self-hating fat people, and to be honest, I wouldn't want to be around self-hating trans people, either. I love my transness, I don't want to be around that negativity, even if it's only directed at themselves. Your suffering and your feelings are entirely valid, and so are theirs.

I don't agree with the "you should never try to lose weight or you're a traitor" camp, but I also sympathize with where they are coming from. It's your body and your life, do what you want to do to make yourself happy. Though you may end up at your goal and find the happiness you thought would be there, isn't. Coming from personal experience, being in a pit of self hatred isn't a good place to start changing yourself from. I tried to avoid the fact that I was fat and to be honest I still do sometimes. It wasn't until I started acknowledging my body for what it is, that I started to care less about what I looked like. I am no longer desperately trying to run from something I didn't want to face.

#asks #fatphobia

22 notes · View notes

desperate2lose · 11 months

Text

hi, i’m Des. i haven’t had an @na/mi@ account since i was probably 14. that was the last time i was thin. all my life i have had weight issues, which i now know are due to PCOS (i’m ftm, have been for 12 yrs). the only 2 times i was ever thin were when i was 9 because i played sports, and when i was 14 because i was r3stricting. i’m 5’6, and i should be somewhere in the 120-150 range to be considered healthy. my lowest was 130 in high school. i’m currently at my highest, somewhere between 250-280. at about 18 i started ballooning, rapidly gaining weight no matter how much i worked out. since then i’ve rel@psed a couple times but it never stuck because i was so scared of being how i was in high school.

back then i was a zombie. due to mental health issues but also because of my ed. i was constantly tired and sad and i wanted to be a skeleton. i preferred being d3@d thin rather than fat and alive. i don’t feel that way anymore. i don’t want to be underw3ight, i don’t want to d!3. i want to be thin, i want to lose.

i’m aware that reverting to this lifestyle and r3stricting isn’t the healthy way to lose. however, it’s the only thing that has worked for me in the past. and i believe it’s the only way to regain my self control. i definitely b!nge sometimes for emotional reasons and i am not okay with that. whenever i’ve tried to diet in a “healthy” way, i fall off of it, or i don’t hold myself accountable enough.

i feel like i’m the type of person where if i say i’ll only eat 1200 cals it turns to 1500. if i say i’ll only eat omad it’ll end up being tmad. so my theory is that i have more than enough to lose, so if my goal is to eat n0thing, i’ll probably fail but still progress.

some things i’m trying to avoid:

• ending up malnourished

i plan on taking vitamins and if i do eat, making sure it’s the right type of food to get me thru my physical job/working out/life.

• my mental health declining

i’ve been working very hard on my mh and i’m not going to throw that away. so i’ll be tracking my moods and modifying what/how much i eat to keep myself stable.

• “⭐️vation mode”

i dont want to end up keeping my fat on because my body goes into this mode. so i’m gradually going to reduce my calories over probably 6 weeks.

• going under my ugw

if i even hit my ugw it’ll be a miracle, but i don’t want to become so @ddicted to r3stricting that i continue rather than maintaining if i eventually get there.

• my loved ones finding out

i plan on making it seem like im just changing my lifestyle. i don’t want to lie, so i’m hoping no one will notice.

• failing

pretty much the only perk of me being obese right now is that my doctor wants to put me on appetite suppressants. i just have to figure out which i’d rather have, do some bloodwork, and then i’m golden.

DISCLAIMERS

i’m not in the mindset to be swayed into not r3l@psing. so pls don’t try to convince me.

i’m not fatphobic. i don’t see anyone worth less no matter what their body looks like. this is solely about me and how i see myself.

i’m not into shaming/triggering each other on purpose to promote progress. you can do that but leave me out of it. if i see anyone insulting me, i’m blocking them, period.

i (in general, sometimes i have bad days) do not hate myself. i understand that this corner of the internet tends to have a lot of self hatred, sh, etc. that’s not where i am in life. this is strictly about w3ight to me. if you are sewer slidal, post sh, talk about sh, or constantly post self hatred, i probably won’t follow you. i hope you love yourself soon though.

any tips on how to lose/vitamins to take/recipes/etc are appreciated.

so thats basically it. im gonna be blogging some kind of mix between ana and d!et stuff. some healthy stuff. some not healthy stuff. i’m not trying to fit in any boxes, just trying to figure out what works for me because i am so fucking desperate to lose at this point.

15 notes · View notes

lesbian-ed · 1 year

Note

Hi. I don't know if this blog is still active but in case it is I was hoping maybe to hear some thoughts from you, or maybe even your followers, about confidence and comfort towards one's own body. Like how to deal with anxiety. I am lesbian, obviously female, way too old, I've never had sex, or even really dated. I don't approach people romantically because I hate my body and distance myself from all chances for dating. I've been trying to lose weight but I've struggled with obesity practically all my life. I also think I'm much hairier (I mean it's everywhere and I'm not light haired either omg) than what is normal for most women, and I hate both shaving and just letting the hair grow. I have more or less given up on dating because I don't want people to see me naked or get close to me. Sometimes I feel I'm content but sometimes I feel this isn't healthy: it concerns me that my hatred for my body is keeping me from experiencing intimacy, and how long can that go on until it becomes psychologically damaging. Though who am I kidding - the damage's been done. I understand that people of all shapes and sizes etc. date, fall in love and so on, but I have this deep-rooted discomfort about my body that I've felt since I was around twelve. So I was hoping to hear some thoughts or experiences on how one might overcome this kind of persistent disgust, though I understand if this isn't the kind of ask you wanna answer. In any case thank you for reading.

Hi! I'm sorry this ask has been sitting in our inbox for a few months, unfortunately we don't always still have the time or energy to go through the asks anymore. I wanted to answer this, and I know it's so late but here's to hoping you might wander back here someday, and that this may help you, or another woman who feels similary.

I shared this view for a really long time (so much so, I identified as trans for a long time. I never felt "woman enough" because of my body). I struggled with being fat, hairy, "unwomanly".

When I was in school all of my friends got attention from boys and men, and I never peaked anyone's interest. Even though I didn't want to be with boys, I still craved that attention, I thought there was something wrong with me for being someone who no one would ever want. I punished myself with no eating, too much eating, self harm.

For me, what finally clicked was when I was first introduced to radical feminism, and through that I started thinking about the concept of inherent worth. I knew all women had inherent worth for being women, for being alive. I knew I had empathy and care for all women, regardless of thei appearance, and I thought they all deserve respect. That eventually led to the radical realization that if I think all women are worthy, then I must extend this to myself. I am woman, just as any other. And my external appearance doesn't change my self worth.

It really helped to stop seeing what is considered "ugly" as a negative thing, and rather to think of it as neutral, inconseqential, of no value. Instead of looking at all that was "wrong" with me as a bad thing, I took all power from it. I knew that I would never think badly of other women who looked like me, so why would I be the only exception?

Slowly, I was able to take away all the weight I put into my appearance, and became more neutral. Don't get me wrong, I'm not magically healed. There are still days where I'm reminded of all the ways that I don't fit into society's expectations for what a woman should be. I'm reminded of how terrified my mom was and still is that I'd end up staying fat. I'm reminded of aunts and uncles comenting on me losing and gaining weight since I was as young as 6 or 7. I know that being hairy, with dark body hair all over, is not the standard for what's attractive.

But those days have less weight in the grand scheme of things because no longer is my focus in life to be palatable. And I don't mean to come off like I have all the answers, that my way is the only way. I know this is not an easy journey.

But I think in order for you to start seeing yourself as someone who is worthy of desire, of love, of care, first you've got to see yourself as human. The more I look back at how people treated me growing up, at how people still treat me now, the truth is that society doesn't see "ugly" women as people. We are dehumanized, objectified as clutter, things in the way of what is "right".

I'm sure you're a kind and nice person. Look at yourself from the outside in, look at yourself as you'd look at someone else: what would you say to yourself then? Would you really think so badly of you then?

Be patience. I understand we have a lot telling us that we are not good enough, that aging is bad, that we have expiration dates. But as long as you are around, you are human, you are worthy of kindness.

Regarding the romantic aspect of this, I used to share your anxiety, that no one would want to look at me naked, that I would never feel comfortable undressing in front of someone. But then I met my girlfriend, and she made me feel so comfortable with myself that when we finally met and the time came to share intimacy... It just happened so organically, so naturally. It wasn't a performance, it was caring for each other. Not once did she look at me with disgust, not once was she anything but kind. I don't think it's just because she's some saint. I think when you care about someone, attraction comes naturally, and you don't separate body and mind. You just know that is your person, and you want them fully.

So maybe slowly working on allowing others to see you for who you are, not physically, but like.... Your personality. Open up. It doesn't need to be going on dating apps. It's just... surround yourself with women. Be around other women, love them, let them love you.

Things move slow, but self care can be just allowing a friend to tell you you're a good person. Accept compliments, even when your instinct is to tell others that they're wrong. Be kind to yourself. You deserve kindness, there is nothing about the way you look that is inherently wrong.

Posting this here so hopefully we'll hear from others as well, and hopefully you'll catch this one. Take care. Be well. You deserve good things, just because you're human, just because you're there.

#mod a #self image #self esteem #self harm #body image #October 28 2022

8 notes · View notes

hlvrfreakyfriday · 11 months

Text

HLVRFF: Chapter 11

Gordon was honestly a little worried he’d fucked up when Benry started sobbing again. Thankfully, though, the entity was able to speak through his tears just enough to assure Gordon he was crying in relief.

Benry really didn’t want to leave. The fact that he was going to anyway, just to try and help Gordon feel better, just further cemented that Benry really does care about him. Gordon’s kicking himself for never taking the time to really notice until now.

(He’s kicking himself for a lot of things regarding Benry, really.)

When Benry’s sobs finally calmed down to just a few quiet sniffles, the two of them got to talking.

About Gordon’s nightmares…

“Just because I have nightmares about the fight on Xen doesn’t mean I’m actually still afraid of you. I still have nightmares sometimes about that army of Coomer clones too, but I still willingly go hang out with Dr. Coomer. And like, hell, when I was a kid I had this recurring nightmare about a giant Agumon trying to eat me, even though he was one of my favorite Digimon. Dreams are just weird, y’know?”

“huh. yeah, i guess so. wait... if you had nightmares about your favorite digimon, does that mean i’m your favorite roommate~?”

“Pretty sure you’re my only roommate, Benry.”

“pretty sure you’re dodging the question, gordon.”

About Benry’s life in Black Mesa’s labs…

“i never talked about it ‘cause like, it’s all in the past. can’t do anything about it. and i’m not in the labs anymore now, so. it’s not important.”

“I, uh, kind of think it IS important? I had one of your nightmares, the one about being cut up on the exam table, so obviously that shit still affects you. Do you at least talk to Tommy about this when it’s bothering you?”

“uhhhhhhhh......”

“Dude.”

“please don’t tell tommy.”

“Oh, I’m gonna tell him if you don’t tell him yourself.”

“okay fine geeeeeez.”

About… feelings…

“Hah, you know, I’m a little surprised that you don’t actually hate me.”

“huh? why?”

“I mean... I was really shitty to you? Even before the betrayal thing, when the worst thing you did was just be annoying. I may have been stressed out of my fucking mind during all that, but I never lashed out at the other guys nearly as much as I did at you. Or, y’know. Told any of the others that I wished they were dead. Can’t... really say I blame you for getting so pissed at me, after all that...”

“uh. yeah.”

“Yyyeah. So... why don’t you hate me?”

“...i just don’t. never hated you. not even when i was big mad at you. like, anger and hatred are two different things. you’ve made me feel angry, but never actual, straight-up hate. i know i’ve said i hated you a couple times, but that was a big fat lie. even though you didn’t remember me and kept yelling at me, i was still just... happy to see you again. hear you laugh again. see your light again. i really really missed you. i didn’t wanna lose you again, especially not so soon after finally finding you."

“Benrey, I...”

“-which kinda makes all the messed up stuff i did even more messed up. which is uh, why i really wasn’t expecting you to ever forgive me. um... you do forgive me, right? i, i didn’t misunderstand that?”

“I do, yeah.”

“...even though you don’t have to?”

“I want to. The main reason I was still holding any grudges against you is because I thought you didn’t care; that you weren’t sorry about the things you did, and that it was all just... a fucking game to you or something. Knowing that you DO care, that you actually care a whole lot... It helps. Helps me feel better. Even if just a little bit. So I forgive you, because I genuinely want to.”

“.....”

“And like I said, I may not remember when we were friends as kids, but I really want to be friends again.”

“.......”

“...Oh shit are you crying again? Fuck, dude, don’t-”

“shhut th’ fuck upppppppp and just gimme hug.”

They talked for a good long while, on into the night. They had to stop eventually though, especially for Benry’s sake. All that crying and heart-pouring clearly took a lot out of the guy. When the time for sleep came, Benry hesitantly asked if Gordon would… maybe stay? Share the bed, keep the cuddles going?

And maybe Gordon was just feeling overly soft and fond after all that just happened, because he did stay.

Or, well. They actually moved from Benry’s room to Gordon’s, with his much bigger, actually-made-for-two-people bed. Gordon had forgotten just how nice it was to share a bed with someone. The warmth and presence of another body lying next to his had always been soothing for him, and he never realized just how much he missed it. It made it hard for him to actually get up when morning finally came.

It was also hard to get up due to the fact that Benry was holding onto him like he was an oversized teddybear. Which was not only restricting, but also very comfy.

Shit, no wonder Anna was always wanting to use Gordon as a pillow. His body makes a pretty great one.

From then on, if there was any remaining tension in the house, it’s definitely gone now. Gordon’s already finding himself way more patient and way less annoyed with Benry and his antics. Like, yeah, he already was before, but if his attitude about the entity these past weeks was a long way away from how it was in Black Mesa, now it’s practically light-years away.

Benry’s attitude seems to have shifted, too. He’s gotten… more genuine, if Gordon had to describe it. Letting his usual aloofness falter way more than before. He seems to be less intent on pressing all of Gordon’s buttons, too (or at least, no longer to the point that Gordon gets actually upset). They still have their back-and-forth banter, but it's got Gordon mostly laughing rather than groaning. He’s emoting more with his face, and whether that’s Benry adapting to not having his Sweet Voice, or it’s a result of their honest talk that night, Gordon’s not sure.

But it’s really nice to see.

*****

In the morning, a few days later, they get a knock on the door. Gordon's a little apprehensive about answering at first, not wanting a repeat of when Anna came by- but then again, the only other people who don’t know about all the weird alien shit in his life are Gordon’s mom and brother, and they both always call or text before visiting. So it’s probably just one of the team or a mail guy or something. Gordon goes to open the door and-

“Dr. Freemannn...”

-once again, it is neither of those.

Now, except for the few times the guy actually threatened him, Gordon’s never been that freaked out by Tommy’s weird eldritch dad. When he’s not trying to ‘convince’ Gordon of something, he just looks like your standard suit-wearing government employee.

To Gordon’s regular human eyes, anyway.

Through Benry’s eyes, Gordon can see that Mr. Coolatta lacks any of the glowing 'life energy’ patterns on his body. Benry’s body lacks those, too, but he at least has the glow in his eyes that every living creature seems to have. Mr. Coolatta’s eyes meanwhile, are just... black. Void. Nothing. In fact, it’s like there’s a whole... aura of nothingness about the not-a-man. It’s giving Gordon this horrible feeling of wrongness the longer he looks at him, but he can’t STOP looking at him, it’s like being sucked into a black hole or something, and it’s got him so on edge he feels like he-

Mr. Coolatta clears his throat. Gordon releases the death grip he didn’t know he had on the door frame.

“Uh, hey, Mr. Coolatta. I take it you’re here to help with, um, this?” Gordon says as he steps aside, allowing the older entity into the house.

“Yes. Tommy, informed me of your... predicament. That neither you, nor. Ben-rey. Know how to, fix,” Mr. Coolatta says in that weird, almost forced-sounding way he does, as he and Gordon step into the living room.

Just then, Benry pokes his borrowed head in from the hallway. His eyes light up (both figuratively, and to Gordon’s current eyes, literally) when he spies their house guest. “yooooo, thought i heard g-dad in here,” he says, strolling up to stand next to Gordon by the couch. “you gonna get our brains back in the right cases, yeah?”

There’s a very subtle look of... something distinctly negative on Mr. Coolatta’s face as Benry speaks, but Benry either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

Gordon however is suddenly feeling some slowly mounting concern for whether or not Benry will continue to live under his roof.

“UH,” Gordon speaks up, “if you can just, get us back in our own bodies, that’d be great. All we need you to do, really. We’re both totally fine, other than this!”

Benry gives Gordon a small confused look. Mr. Coolatta also gives him a look, but he’s not sure what exactly it’s conveying.

“Well, if we are. To do this,” Mr. Coolatta starts,” then I suggest that you. Should both, sit down for, it.”

The two younger men do so, taking seats on the couch behind them. Gordon’s about to ask what exactly Mr. Coolatta’s going to do, when a strange pulling feeling hits the back of his head.

Or, no, it’s more like in his actual brain. And it’s going very quickly from just being in the back, to all over, and from a gentle pulling feeling to a painful one. Christ, he’s never even had a migraine or concussion this bad. He wrenches his eyes shut, and throws his borrowed hands up to press against his head...

…And feels the unmistakable texture of a knit beanie that he definitely wasn’t wearing before.

Gordon opens his eyes, and the room looks so... washed out. The colours are all dull, and there aren’t as many of them, and he can’t feel them- holy shit he can’t feel them. He can’t feel colours anymore. What he does feel though is glasses on his face, and pain in his back, and long hair against his neck. He looks to his right- and there’s no one there. So he looks to his left, and there’s Benry- who ACTUALLY LOOKS like Benry.

Which of course means that he looks like himself.

Which means that they’re in their own bodies again!

Benry seems to realize this at about the same time, as his eyes widen before he suddenly bursts into cosmic song. A flurry of happy yellow, excited orange, and positive purple Sweet Voice float out through his teeth as he grins bigger than Gordon’s ever recalled seeing him.

Gordon grins too, and laughs, both at Benry’s happy display, and from his own immense relief. He yanks the beanie off his head and hands it to Benry, who puts it back in its proper place on his own head, still singing all the while. The singing only hiccups for the briefest of moments when Gordon leans over to hug his eldritch roommate, followed by an even bigger burst of colour and song as Benry hugs back.

The pair's attention is brought back to their helpful houseguest when Mr. Coolatta clears his throat again. Gordon releases Benry from the hug and turns to the older entity.

“Thank you, SO much, I can’t even begin to tell you how much I- how much we both appreciate this, man,” Gordon says. Benry’s stopped singing, but is still latched onto Gordon, burying his face in the human’s shoulder. He doesn’t say anything to Mr. Coolatta, instead just giving the guy a thumbs up.

There’s another slight facial twitch before Mr. Coolatta replies, “Yes, you’re. Very welcome. I trust that... this, won’t happen again, hmm?” he then asks, looking at Benry.

Despite not looking up, Benry seems to realize the question is directed at him. “uh, yeah. i don’t- ‘m not gonna do that again. like, ever. wasn’t fun, was really bad actually. no more botched brain hangouts. promise.”

Mr. Coolatta seems satisfied with that answer (or as much as he can be regarding Benry), as he thankfully makes no threats or insinuations about Benry’s continued status as Gordon’s roommate.

He also doesn’t make any comments about Gordon owing him anything before he leaves. Gordon wagers a guess that he can probably thank Tommy for that. Bless that man.

*****

It’s a little after lunch time when Gordon makes his way to the front door, car keys in hand. Before he gets to the door, though, he stops and turns to Benry, who’s sitting on the couch, playing a game.

“Hey, I’m going to the hardware store to pick out paint chips and figure out what colour I should repaint my room. You wanna come with?” he asks.

Pausing his game, Benry peeks over the back of the couch, spitting out a surprised little ‘huh?’ at the man. “you want me to come with?” he asks back after a moment.

Gordon nods. “Yeah. Figured you could help me pick a colour. Find one that’ll not only look good in my room, but feel good, too.”

“thought you can’t feel colours anymore?”

“Yeah, but YOU can feel them again. And I wanna make sure I don’t end up with another shitty wet sandpaper colour. Honestly, I can’t believe you never brought that up before.”

Benry remains still and silent for a bit, seemingly processing what all Gordon just said. Then, tentatively, he asks, “can we get new paint for my room, too?”

Gordon’s mouth quirks up in a slight smile. “Sure thing, bud. Get whatever colours you want.”

“helllllll yeah!” Benry whoops, punctuating it with Sweet Voice. Gordon’s small smile turns into a full-on one.

This whole fiasco may have started out incredibly shitty… but Gordon has to admit, he really likes the way things have turned out as a result of it all.

THE END

#half life vr but it's freaky friday #fic repost

5 notes · View notes

jenna-jayde-the-renagade · 1 year

Note

You may remember me from such films as "You Will Never Be A Woman", "Your Skin Is Thicker and Rougher Than That Of Woman", "Your Pores And Connective Tissue Are Arranged Differently From Those Of A Woman", "Your Bone Structure, Including Jaw, Brow Ridge, And Hips, Is Obviously Male", "You Have A Man's Hairline", "Your Ring Finger Is Longer Than Your Index Finger", "Your Navel Is Above Your Waist", "Your Body Stores Fat Differently Than A Woman's Does", "Your Saliva, Sweat and Urine Contain Male Pheromones", "You Are Biologically Incapable Of Menstruation and Pregnancy", "Every Somatic Cell In Your Body Contains The Y Chromosome", "Children Are Confused When They See You", and who can forget: "Your Parents Will Use Your Real Name When They Bury You".

I gotta agree with you on almost all of that, my real name is actually unisex, i didnt change it. Graves also dont say male or female on them, and with my friends and family being loving and accepting im not worried about it. That is if im even lucky enough to get a grave with a headstone, those are expensive and well, I'm a millennial and I don't wanna leave my family with a shitload of debt. When i die ill probably be cremated and sit in an urn on a shelf for a few decades, or ill be spread about in some place i loved during life. Its funny, i actually dont want to be cremated even though its the cheapest option in my country. If i had complete control over my burial all id do is make a deal with a farmer, and ask to be buried "raw", wrapped in an all natural hemp or unbleached cotton sheet, and have a tree planted over top of me, that way i can fertilize it, and have a bench placed nearby, and a dirt footpath leading to me so that my family and friends can come see me for a "visit" after im gone. Thats what id like, and to be honest I'm more worried about being embalmed and buried with a body full of embalming fluids and preservatives thatll pollute the nearby enviroment in a casket thatll do the same, fuck that shit!!

But yeah no, like I said I agree with you on most of that. I don't deny the truth and live in a fantasy land of denial and such. However the second last one is untrue, adults have a harder time with it than their children do, and thats if they even give a shit, because most of society doesnt. In 3 years ive never once met somebody with genuine hatred for me in real life. You people seem to only exist on the internet, and you people are a very very small minority. Like i said, nobody in the real world cares, they're all too busy living our own lives and understand that people like me exist, and it isnt worth the time out of their day to bully me and put me down. But back to the one thing I dispute about what you said, the children! Now children aren't confused when they see me, because they see a female. Why? Well, after 3 years of hormones and some laser hair removal i dont look like a man, I don't look like "something" in-between. They see a woman, albeit taller than average, I'm well past the point where parents have to explain anything, I blend in in public places. People don't know unless they've known me for a while or i tell them. So yeah no, there's no confusion when children see me. Hell my mom and I went out tonight looking at stereo equipment at a few different stores and it was "may I help you ma'am?" and such.

So uhh yeah, I think you may be the one who's confused...

On a side note:

Before I came out I was very transphobic and hyper masculine because I figured nobody would expect me to be trans or gay or anything else if I showed hate and acted hyper masculine.

So that brings up the question, are you trying to bully me to distance yourself from who you truly are? Are you confused and/or hiding something deep down that you know to be true? Coming out isn't as traumatic and hard as some folks make it out to be. It is what you make of it, I was scared shitless until I did it, and i didn't lose any friends, get disowned by my family or go through any bullying in real life. Everything I feared never happened. In fact it was the opposite, I found my social circle and my family to be encouraging and happy for me. I was extremely depressed with my gender identity, my body, and in general, I was just so depressed. So when I took the plunge and finally did it, after 7 years of debating and planning, i truly came out of my shell and into my own. I was happy, free, and my mental health stabilized and got better! I had hope that things would change, that I wouldn't be stuck, trapped in a body that disgusted me for the rest of my life. It was slow, like I said it's been 3 years and 2 months since I started hormones and such. But in year two I started seeing the person I always wanted to see looking back at me in the mirror. Around the same time society started seeing me as a female too. It was a slow transformation, but I had hope that I would get to where I'm at now, and well here I am lol!

So yeah, next time you go around trying to shit on somebody for living their best life and doing something positive for themselves. Look inside yourself, and ask yourself why you feel the need to bully somebody for who they are? You might realize something, that it comes from jealousy, a feeling of failure or self hatred. This "ask" says alot about you and your own insecurities. So yeah, when the time comes and you've figured out why you feel the need to bully people, just know that I don't need an apology or anything. I'm not offended, instead I feel bad for you, and I hope you can find peace within yourself one day before its too late...

Sorry about the novel sized answer, I just felt it was necessary.

7 notes · View notes

menlove · 2 years

Text

hilarious how terfs will INSIST they can tell someone's assigned gender at birth and then: harass gnc cis women for using the women's restroom, tell trans men that they will "never be women", tell trans women that they can "never be a real man and they need to embrace their female identity", harass cis women who have facial hair or deep voices or are tall and say they can tell they're really a man, treat cis women of color aaaaabsolutely horrendously bc they see them as masculine, and absolutely lose it when they see someone using multiple pronouns who isn't androgynous because they will guess their agab wrong every single goddamn time

like i've had terfs tell me that i just want lesbians to suck my dick (that i don't have) and i've had terfs when i was hyperfeminine using she/they pronouns without an ounce of testosterone injected in my body tell me that they could "tell i wasn't a real woman" even though i was just a fat 18 year old girl with body hair from being latine lmfao

like babes just admit that you really genuinely cannot tell lol. there's sometimes that you might get it right but that doesn't mean it erases all of the times you very blatantly don't.

and the thing is, they usually get it wrong in the direction of them accusing random afab people of being trans women. bc every single thing they've decided indicates a trans woman is something literally hundreds/thousands/millions of afab individuals possess. you think you can clock a trans woman bc she has broad shoulders? millions of afab people have those. you think you can clock a trans woman by her deep voice? plenty of afab people have that. you think scruff or facial hair enable you to clock them? soooo many afab people have that whether bc of pcos, being intersex, or they're genuinely just hairy bc of genetics. height? same thing. fatness? literally shut the fuck up lmfao. square jaw, adams apple (and yes i know so many afab people with one it's not that uncommon), lack of breast tissue, etc etc etc..... literally every single thing you think enables you to clock a trans woman is gonna lead to you witchhunting random afab people whether they're trans or gnc or just a woman of color.

and of course that's not WHY it's harmful, the hatred of trans women and the witchhunting to identify them is much more harmful, but it is just sort of ironic how much they claim to support and love "women" (afab people) and then the second one of us has too much body hair or too much body fat or we're too tall or whatever, suddenly they just KNOW we're a Dick Having Evil Man like lmfao get a goddamn grip

#transmisogyny tw #transphobia tw #ask to tag

8 notes · View notes

shinwhoohoo · 2 years

Note

off-topic, but do we know if wm has tried to control bipo's weights, enforced diets etc? brought to you by the hot take i saw that the reason cnu didn't get much screentime in the a lie mv was bc he had gained weight and wm hates fat people (a lie era was one of his best looks though imo). i know wm have controlled omg's diets (and onf's, at some point) but bipo have always seemed to eat well and looked healthy to me? except sandeul's weight loss around sweet girl era. have they said anything?

omg what kinda hot take was that person giving lmao that makes no sense!! Like CNU was literally at his thinnest and fittest in the months leading up to A Lie (when he took these famed pics, presumably) and he really hadn’t gained much weight back by the time the comeback came around either. If anything he was heavier during Rollin’ promos. The reason he didn’t get much screen time is because his wasn’t Jung Jinyoung. That’s the hot take 😂

WM I’m sure has controlled Bipo’s weights, especially during their rookie days. While OMG in particular have been very vocal about it (and I have been vocal about my hatred of it), B1A4 in comparison never have really spoken too much about it. That being said, I think one only needs to take a look at how thin they were at debut. Sandeul and CNU especially-- they aren’t naturally small-boned, skinny people like Gongchan and Jinyoung are. Plus, WM used to go on record bragging about how much weight Sandeul would lose before comebacks. So even though the boys have never said outright that WM used to put them on strict diets, there was definitely pressure there. Also, I swear CNU recently said in a VLive or something that he has never gotten back to the weight he was in high school, when he was at his ‘heaviest’. The two of them have spoken about the pressures of dieting and watching what they eat; luckily I think Sandeul has gotten to a point in the last few years where he just no longer cares lol.

#b1a4 #cnu #sandeul #oh my girl #wm entertainment #it's a lie #good timing #tw: eating habits #tw: diet #text #ask #reply

4 notes · View notes

rara-glowup-journey13 · 2 months

Text

2024년 3월 30일 | Thoughts

This isn't easy for me to do. But being overweight and feeling insecure all the time is harder. I have to do this for myself. For all the pretty clothes I want to wear. For all the pictures I want to take. And for the little me that's been always bullied for being chubby. I'm academically successful and go to one of the top universities in Korea, and it wasn't easy for me to get here. For my studies, determination and consistency were the key. I had difficult days where I lost hope and wanted to give up, but I didn't because of how much I wanted to have what I have now. Now, it's time for me to apply the same principal and strategy to losing weight. I have lost weight before but I always keep gaining it back, because I'm sadly never consistent when it comes to dieting and working out. But I know that a lot of other people were just like me and they somehow found the strength to fight all the negative feelings and thoughts that were stopping them from becoming a healthier version of themselves. Now it's my turn. April is about to start soon, and I want to make it one of the best months for me this year. I will make it happen. I will eat healthy everyday, I will study everyday and get closer to my academic goals, I will workout at least 3x a week (for a starter), I will journal at least once everyday, I will invest time on weekends to read. I will make this happen, because it's all up to me. To motivate myself, I will stick notes next to my desk to remind myself of why I wanted to start. I will re-position my desk and try to make small changes in my environment to feel like it's actually a fresh start. I will organize everything and make sure I plan all the meals of the week on Notion and check the groceries I'd need for them. I will focus more on positive affirmations and try to fall in love with myself the way I am right now. I believe that loving life while you're trying to become healthier is such an exciting thing. You wake up in the morning and you feel happy because it's a new day and a closer step to your weight loss goal. I used to have those thoughts before, but I can't seem to find them again this time and I don't know why. I will try to find a way to feel that way again, and I will dress well, do my makeup, take pictures and go out with my friends to feel better. Even though it's honestly not easy at all for me to socialize a lot because of the hatred that I have for myself. It's difficult and I feel so overwhelmed when I think about it. Because honestly whenever I go out I feel like people are staring at my body and judging how fat I am. And fyi, I live in South Korea and the beauty standards here are insane but I honestly never fit in my country's beauty standards either; only body wise. I know I have a pretty face. Anyways, most importantly, I will keep updating this blog whether what I'm feeling is good or bad, I will share my wins and failures here. Nobody is even reading this and that makes it such a safe space for me.

Now I'm gonna enjoy the rest of my day, resting, plotting and scheming.

Tomorrow will be Season 1 Ep 1 of my glow up journey. A skinny healthy me, here I come. 💪

#its my time #this is my year #april is the month that will make a difference

0 notes

kendrixtermina · 1 year

Quote

(a meditation on the concept of an insult bouquet) AN IMPERTINENCE - that you even ask, that you even speak, and in the very nature of asking, betray your lack of comprehension. In assumptions implicit. Of my dreams, naught left but a fishbone stuck between your teeth, to you, just an unpleasant taste left in your mouth that you hereby wish to wash out. FOXGLOVE – INSINCERITY peeking through like black spots from a pristine pink sheath. I don’t care if you’ve actually changed this time, there is no means for me to tell how its different from all the others. No reasons to suspect that it will go any different, from the self-repeating madness that is doing the same and expecting a different result Nothing for me to gain from practically invite you to pull away the football all over again. SCARLET AURELIA – AVARICE Like floral-red paint peeling off to reveal the gold, what it is you really covet with your ossifrage claws sharpened your beak, how could you possibly be here for the goodness of your heart? That which I’ve never been shown to exist. So tumble down your claims under the weights of their own contradictions. You’re in it for yourself and thus I shall look out for me, no use relying on you to do it. TURK’S CAP – HATRED like twisting flames of red, punctuating stalks of long long green, the pain you have sown now has blossomed, bringing forth this obscene naked stamens, so was your pollen thrown to the wind to wander where it may. To clog up the lungs and cough forth contaminated slimes. It has been no bed of roses. It was you that brought it forth, now you may lie in it. A REBUKE - don’t think I didn’t realize what you did there, putting the onus on me. The ball thrown in my court. But so what? You’ve already called me worse than the devil, there’s really nowhere lower for me to fall, unless you were to make a superhell just for me. These days I rebuke you mostly for my own peace of mind, because you’re just a convenient, helpful antithesis I’ve long since given up on speaking any sense in the insensate callous mass that is you The loathing is for my sake, not yours. LONDON PRIDE – FRIVOLITY The peak of humiliation is, how you somehow remained a terror even once you were revealed as pitiful and childish. A composite wheel of knicknaks and bright colors, a mobile of nature, so haphazard were they, your words, the way you couldn’t spell the words properly when you were trying to spy after what I was looking at on the internet Your try-hard pretentiousness of copied words. how you fall for those silly conspiracies, how you change like a little banner in the wind based on what your overlords tell you the sheer predictability of your mechanical response - and how it still rent my flesh. You’re Hubert Hubert if he liked adult women LOBELIA – MALEVOLENCE It’s such a nifty stress relief is it, so convenient. So nice to make the problem go away, to just assert your will upon reality, believe whatever you need to any time you’re faced with some argument or compromise, you just shout until it goes away, make yourself impossible to deal with until theyre all sick of it, until the other chose to be the bigger person, until they unfold for you, like a pretty purple petal carpet. and you’ll never lose, since no one who remotely cares could quite sink as low as you Your glucocorticoid levels must look marvelous, you’ll live long and well and easy, growing fat on all of us LABURNUM – FORSAKEN so falls, on this, the golden curtain. She said, once, that if you didn’t change your ways, you would end up forsaken by everybody around you. She proclaimed that she would be first, and I would be last. But for all that you bitched about my absence, you’re still surrounded. I’ve given up the fantasy of you rotting in a hole, comforting as though it is as some cool teething ring to gnaw on, you’ll probably die quickly, honored and beloved, getting away with it same as all the villains of history. THE FLOWERS SHOULD BE BOUND TOGETHER BY A FADING LEAF

#poetry #feelings #baby tries to art

0 notes

intrepidsz · 1 year

Text

chester char. study [ closet full of lovely clothes. ] / @gcldbrew

maybe it was the divorce that spurred on his mom's vivacious mantra. 'wear your heart on your sleeve! never apologize and that's how you win! every day of your continued existence is a sign of victory!' she'd said, boasted loud and followed with an eruption of giggles (her laugh, sweet like a windchime). he assumes this to be the case, largely because theirs wasn't a result of betrayal or infidelity -- it was in the minute realization that both of them were pretending. not just pretending to love, but pretending to be the person they'd announced themselves to be. you lower your head, you smile at jokes you don't find funny, you wear that dress because he likes it, you dab your eyes in private, you wallow, you cook, he works, forgets an anniversary, and you smile when he apologizes -- kisses your fingers even though you've grown to hate them. and when they split, his mom would retell these stories, these genuine aches with nary a smirk -- and chester, torn between empathy and selfishness, would listen without interruption. he experiments early on -- admittedly somewhat inspired by his mom's boisterous philosophy, but mostly sincere in his own interest. when the boys at school wear phtalo blue with batman graphics, he insists on a purple cardigan. they tease, they mock, and chester's strong will wavers until his mom is spinning him in circles, swiping big fat tears from his cheeks, and calling him her little hero. she does this for many years, up until his spine stretches too long for her to carry, and chester stops crying altogether. she meets him after school with a beam, whistles when he wiggles his fingers, proudly sharing the kaleidoscopic colors on his nails. eventually, she transitions from calling him a hero, to a superstar -- and he feels this in his bones. the taunting ceases, and is dutifully replaced with curiosity, with whispered admiration. in time, self expression is all anyone cares about, and chester is the undefeated spokesperson for it. he takes half a year off school, and then studies at home for the rest of it when she passes. it had taken her faster than he'd imagined -- faster than what he'd seen in the movies, less cinematic, and with few anchoring statements he could hold onto. instead, his memories are filled with days prior to the diagnosis -- her twinkling laugh, her pinky finger swiping against thick curries, her favorite green sweatpants, her hatred of losing, and her consequently incredible winning streaks (against chester's behest). his nonna doesn't laugh musically the way his mom had, but she takes him in, delivers on her daughter's decade long philosophy, and calls him a star. he embodies it, he shakes at night -- terrified and longing -- but he walks with his chin tipped high, eyes to the clouds. when he graduates, there are some who expect chester to tone down his vibrant, arguably inappropriate style of dress. some who assume the task of gaining popularity and school-wide attraction is complete, and thus his wardrobe, moot. he doesn't. he finds his sense of self, wades through gender in all its fluidity, and runs bold hands over rows of fabric -- over mesh, over silk, over denim. each shade is a story, a moment in time laced with melodic chuckles, made special with enthusiastic hollering, with snapping fingers, and a mother who burned so bright, she left traces in the sky.

#* chester. 𝑡𝘩𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑠 #* ... starter ( 𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑑 )#cw death #cw illness #cw homophobia #cw divorce #/ u gifted me a prompt and i know u said i could Run with this like self paras #/ but i hope this is ok !!! this . Scattered unexpectedly far but i had ! thoughts and #/ am strangely Proud ! ! ! thank u :-)

1 note · View note

cowboylikedean · 2 years

Note

I just wanted to send you love because I find your writing on the current fatphobia discourse really eloquent and insightful. My personal experience with disordered eating mirrors what was depicted in the video, and I’ve found a lot of the ways people are discussing it (and the subsequent change to the video) very triggering. Your words, on the other hand, are insightful and educational, without making me feel shame. I’ve learned a lot from reading what you’ve written, and I wanted you to know that 💕

awww!! this made me feel really good, actually.

I wrote about this particular erasure of fat people from the conversation of body issues a lot more a few months ago.

That's an ask I got in response to this post, which I wrote after hearing that Victoria's Secret song on tiktok. I'm just going to copy and paste that here because I want the full text in this response:

there’s always something so humiliating about average and below average size women talking about body shaming, body issues, and eating disorders.

I will never be able to explain it to them and they will always feel like i’m telling them they weren’t shamed by the patriarchy…… but they have no idea how much the co-opt the conversation… and they have no idea how much I don’t relate

I was never told that I had to “lose the cellulite” and I never compared myself to models, nor did anyone else compare me to models. I was compared to them. they were my models THEY were my unatainable beauty standards. and they talk about their bodies like they had to work so hard and like society hates them so much…… but i had to learn how to hate myself because i didn’t look like them and they had to learn how to not hate themselves because they didn’t look like they were photoshopped.

it’s humiliating and I cannot stand it

This is why the word “fat” is so important to me in that scene. because NOTHING in it compares her to anyone or anything. Nothing says “you don’t look like you’re photoshopped so you’re fat” that’s not what illness!Taylor is responding to. Illness!Taylor responds to the word “fat,” and nothing else. It’s not about how clothes fit, it’s not about how much space she takes up, it’s not about the number on the scale, it’s about the word fat.

Something I feel like I never hear or see thin and average people talk about is how absolutely none of the body issues would exist without the underlying “fat is bad” of it all. If a person who is a size 16 thinks they’re really fat, even though the reality is they’re dead average... The problem isn’t (just) that they have a distorted conception of themselves, it’s also that they think that being fat means anything. If there was no hatred of fatness and a person who was a size 16 thought they were fat even though they were dead average, they could just go along thinking they’re fat and that would be that. The only reason why this has negative affects by way of an ed is because of that underlying hatred of fatness.

Taylor, as someone smaller than a 16 getting on a scale and it saying “fat” only means something because her illness has a reaction to the word and concept of “fat.” And this is how it works for thin and average people! I just feel like the video was too illuminating to this and it’s so much easier to tell yourself you’re not fat than it is to challenge your entire understanding of body size

Anyway! That was a detour to the point! Thanks for this message. Hearing that someone cares and is learning something from me makes me feel really good because like this quote from that ask reply I linked to really just hits in on the head:

I said that average-below average people take up so much space in body positive spaces and the body image narrative that sometimes it’s hard to breathe and it feels so humiliating because this should be an easy “fat” space you know? like we’re the ones with the obvious highlight here but we almost never get it.

It can sometimes (most times) feel like there is no space for me and others like me in this conversation.. so it feels really good to be told there is space for me.

#fatphobia #anti here video #thank you anon

0 notes

Last Seen Blogs

wannabesk1nnyxoxo

iluvoversizedshirts.

hey-izzy

whenyouputyourhandsonme

Youngblood Astronaut

cat-m0m

🌿🌳🌾🏵🌲

kpopwhspers