Dude shopping in the same clothing sites as my sis knowing I'll get like 10 years of my life shaved off because my sister is SKINNY and none of the clothes there will fit me

things:

things are relatively normal with justin again and we’re going to a show on the 1st of march (big excited) and 2 other shows after that, but we’re also considering adding the bilmuri show to the list

im back on a schedule of seeing my therapist regularly so that’s good

work is awful sometimes but such is life

ive lost almost 35lbs in the last 2-3 months which i feel is concerning and i want to see a doctor about it but everyone around me is just like “oh that’s great!” “good for you!” like i’m not even trying to lose weight and its just dropping off something feels wrong here

been dealing a lot with cPTSD stuff and trying to be more aware of how it’s effecting me so i can work on it now that i’m back in therapy

it feels really big and bad sometimes

as i sit here typing and thinking about what’s going on in my life, i’m having this really wild feeling - like. 6 or 7 months ago i was in this exact spot, in my living room, same playlist playing. feeling probably the worst i have felt in the last 2 years or so, but i decided that talking to this new guy (justin) was too exciting and also very validating, so i hung on. i would do anything to be alive if i meant i could be alive with him.

i talked with nicole (my therapist) about this a bit today and how important he is to me. like extremely validating, very supportive, very understanding, now that i really understand it will never be romantic, i’m fine with how things are. idk i think a lot of my friends dont like him or dont understand, but to be fair none of them are severally mentally ill like justin and i are, so we understand each other’s weird shit. he knows i can get really insecure in my relationships, and i’m afraid of being alone. but i know he can get overwhelmed and just shut down for awhile. he’s both bipolar and autistic and sometimes just really needs to be alone, so i dont push it anymore.

my therapist and i talked about that too - how like, we met at a weird time in my life where i’m really working hard in my therapy and trying to improve my relationships and such, so he’s given me space to kind of figure out what’s appropriate and what’s not

anyway i really fucking value him in my life. he’s done more for me in the last few months than a lot of people in my life would ever try 

pretty sure without him i wouldn’t be here right now. i’m not kidding, the week we started talking i was 100% ready to kms, and instead he showed me there’s better things and people in the world than i realized

lmfao god that turned into a whole thing sorry y’all

december 17, 2023

dear tumbr,

finals are over and i have an abundant amount of time to just get lost in my own mind. i spent the whole day cleaning my bathroom for fuck's sake.

life since the last update has been full of complete ups and downs but i kinda want to focus on my emotional shit right now because thats the thing im struggling the most with.

so ive always been a huge mess emotionally. change is something i struggle with really bad too. my mom stayed home with me until pre-school where it was decided that I needed to go so that my separation anxiety could have a chance to get better. it was hard. going to school continued to be hard for me until the third or fourth grade, long past when it was normal. i would cry when i would get dropped off for the first week or two but the older i got the more ashamed i became of crying. it wasn't normal but i couldn't help it, i would try to stop it but i couldn't. i could only try to hide it to the best of my ability. my emotions were to sensitive according to those around me. being sensitive shouldn't be a bad thing but the word 'sensitive' is frequently used as an insult. i internalized it. i didn't let myself show anything that could be construed as weakness past the fifth grade. it helped. once people stopped seeing a reaction they were less likely to pick on me. this has lasted to nineteen. i have become uncomfortable showing any emotion that is unguarded to others, even those who i desperately want to be able to show how much i love them and that i know want to know when i'm not doing well.

i've taken to experiencing my emotions in private. the dull ache of yearning for connection and the pressing weight of the worlds standards and wanting to be better. i want to be better. better in both in terms to my health, mental and physical, and for those around me. i fear i don't do enough. i don't want to be clingy or rather i don't want to be seen as clingy. i know i'm clingy, i alway have been. but my clingy nature has made me scared that i'm annoying. i don't want to be annoying. i don't want to give anyone a reason to leave.

i'm scared to show sides of myself that are unsavory. especially with clar. the more of myself i show him, the more reasons i give him to leave. at the same time, i want him to know me, in my entirety. its almost like i want him to have all the information before he makes a decision. i truly don't know what keeps him with me. he has done nothing but support me and i've been a complete mess for the past month. i try to pull it together but i don't want to lie. i don't lie to him. that's one vow i've told myself is that i wont lie to him. i don't know why he's with me though, its the one thing i can't wrap my head around. i don't know why he reached out in february about valentines day. i don't know why he reached out in march. i just don't know what is appealing. don't get me wrong, i'm glad he did. i love him. but he could do so much better than me. he could have someone who isn't like this.

anyway, it's christmas time i shouldn't be sad.

i've been crying for two hours now, i cant think straight about what i want to write about.

tldr; i'm insecure and mentally unwell. i hate who i have become.

kat out <3

Listen, this is NOT your fault and you mustn't be ashamed to seek help, any shame you feel from having gotten in this situation and having to reach out is nothing compared to the shit he's putting you through. I know it's difficult, I know you might feel like because you entered into the relationship it's your responsibility to bear alone but it isn't, he clearly doesn't give a shit about your wellbeing and took advantage of someone who was struggling. I'm not the person who sent the ask about housing, I'll see if I can find anything myself that might be useful though, but it's actually very normal for people in abusive situations to develop unhealthy habits so you could explain the weight thing like that and not have to go into it further. 'He violates me in my sleep' is enough, 'he makes me do things I don't want to' is enough, 'he controls everything about my life' is enough, all of it is enough to show it's not your fault. I know getting in touch with your aunt must be terrifying but if she's the only lifeline left she's worth reaching out to if only to get you away from him for the time being. And keep talking to your therapist of course, now the truth's out she might be able to offer more advice on where to go from here. I'm not into 'that' at all, I think the whole thing's disturbing as fuck and crawling with freaks like him, but I almost wish I was just so if I ran into any shit he'd posted with you I could get the authorities down on his ass for non-consensual content. Don't apologize for his issues, you and your cat deserve to be free.

Also btw when I say how disgusting all this is I only mean the 'community', people like him who exploit others' negative self-image because they want to force someone to eat themselves to death. There's nothing shameful or disgusting about being fat or finding a fat person attractive in the normal way but people like that just hype up the idea no one could possibly want you except them so they can trap people in situations like yours. They're wrong and that's the shit that makes me sick, manipulating fat positivity and others' insecurities around weight to get their messed up kicks while they get to stay slim and feel like they have power over the person they're destroying. Just wanted to clarify as like I say, none of this is your fault and even if after getting away from him and radically changing your life you still stayed a naturally big person that's not a moral failing and you'll always deserve to be loved for yourself not as an object, however far away that might feel right now.

When i got into this relationship i was under the impression cause he told me he wasnt wanting to do this to me i thought he just had a thing for bigger guys than him. I thought he would just want to like touch it and i could deal with that cause i was really lonely lol and i thought he did care about me properly, but he was obviously lying to me and manipulating me. He still is. And he does like having that power over me I know that he does and he constantly infantalises me. Ive always been fat so I dont even know what it's like to be slim like him. I dont feel like being fat is a shameful thing apart from when it comes to me. I would love to be a healthy weight at some point but it is something I really have a difficult time doing no matter what help I get. And it's really hard to look at myself with the same compassion I have for other people. I understand the struggle with it for people like me or who are big but not as big as me, but I just have a hard time with myself as it is, my weight has been the bane of my existence forever and i have immense negative feelings about it. and it's not getting any easier to stop hating myself in an environment like this. it's always been an unhealthy habit or like coping mechanism for me and has been forever so it makes it really hard, and really easy for him to fuck w me. And I dont know where hes even putting the pictures and videos of me which is giving me more anxiety too I hope that people arent giving him money for them. I'm going to therapy in a few days hopefully, and I want to get new clothes to go so I dont have to go out looking like that and having people stare at me I dont know how I could do that. Thanks for messaging me all this. I hope your day is going good. I have been trying to think of what I could say in even just a text to my aunt or something but I am scared about it cause we havent really been on the same page ever, but especially not in the past like five years. Im not gonna tell her the specifics of it but I'll try to tell her like you said and just it's a really bad situation for me and I just need some help and somewhere else to stay for a bit. Im just stressed and dont know where to start. Im scared in case he finds out i want to leave before i get to. And things are getting harder for me to do. Hopefully my therapist will have some type of helpful advice when we talk more. and my aunt she'll probably be mad about my cat too but hes my cat and im not leaving him here

life update (cause why not)

- cant even remember the last time i posted properly, i know i did the jihoon drabble thing but that doesnt count that was just out of need to post that

- i ran out of meds (woo shes going personal) and like everything felt out of place, i felt out of place, everything. I also got weirdly insecure? which are feelings that are unfamiliar to me? But frequent at the same time?

- all ive been doing is reading a fuck ton and doing my essay (hanging by a thread honestly)

- i got covid on the 7th (delulu hour time : at least me and donghyuck are experiencing this shit at the same time) and its been kicking my ass, but i finally got a cough with phlegm and i cant believe its at that point where im excited about it. Everyone in my house has covid. Im achy all over and just…

- i also got my period so fuck this.

- i went to a twenty first last saturday and like i drank and stuff but meh, i saw my brother whom i havent seen since like september last year, my other brother’s hair is blue and i want to shave that shit off, my other brother i see practically everyday but like i get like these weird nuances where i have to see him because i miss him, aaaand my older brother, i just i really love him. he just looked after me the whole time and im grateful that he can just be so kind and gentle.

- i met my cousins baby for the first time i wanted to cuddle but i was a little bit coughy so (and luckily i didnt - i mean i was negative then but still) the amount of times they brought up me as a baby i was weirdly smug bout it

-

- ive put on weight and it isnt a huge deal i know and like im all for body positivity but it doesnt feel good but the diet i was on, even though it was effective and made me feel good, i just cant.

- the idol ramyeonators and the boyz are literally my best buds at the moment

- my fraand is in new york and im so happy and proud of her but i miss her

- i was supposed to go to this party thing on friday and even though i should be out of iso by then im just too far away and i spent my money on admittedly dumb shit

- me and my brother had a massive fight a month ago and had to drive five hours just the two of us, alone. But im unable to hold grudges and i knew he felt bad.

- okay thats a random input from me

LOWI CONGRATS ON THE FOLLOWER MILESTONE!! 🥺💞💞💞 u deserve it and so much more!! for the kiss prompt could i get 18 with shinsou ?? 🥺👉👈

TYSM SOFFFF so uh. I’ve been fuckin stupid dkfnskfb my dumbass rlly wrote Shinsou correctly on my master post like a week ago and then still managed to write for Shigaraki instead when it came to the actual piece 😳 so thanks to my handyman brainrot you get two—that’s right, two!—characters for the price of one ur welcome ♥️ I cheated a lil bit so shinsou;s not sitting in the reader’s lap it’s just his head but i think its cute 🥺 also Shiggy’s is like twice as long as ive been trying to write them oops i rlly like the jealous reader premise 👉👈 it’s under the read more bc of that and bc of kiiiinda spoilers? if yall arent caught up to the manga you won’t get it but if u are it’s canonical. Whew that was a lot! Enjoy!

Kisses where one person is sitting in the other’s lap

Shinsou

To say that your relationship with Shinsou is new would be an understatement. You’ve been friends for years—ever since the third year of high school when you’d been assigned to him as his support—but you’ve never been particularly close until recently when you’d once again found yourself working on his hero costume and support items.

He’d only asked you out yesterday after nearly two months of tension-filled glances and fleeting touches. Now, the two of you are watching a movie at your mutual friend Kirishima’s apartment, sitting quite awkwardly on a loveseat and pretending like you don’t want to get closer to each other. You haven’t told your friends yet about your new relationship status, but that’s not entirely what’s holding you two back. If anything, it’s run-of-the-mill first date awkwardness (if watching a movie with six of your closest friends around can be considered a date), too afraid to initiate anything.

The movie’s dull; the two of you have pulled out your phones to snark at each other through text, a strategy you’d begun weeks ago after being hushed one too many times by Kaminari because you were talking too loudly. The bright screens probably aren’t all that much better, but you two are in the back anyway; nobody can see it unless they turn away from the TV.

You risk a glance up and end up locking eyes with Shinsou. Your face heats up, heartbeat quickening, as he gives you a charming smile. You watch him glance around the room, unsure at first why he’s doing it until he turns his attention back to you and slowly, silently, moves over across the loveseat into your personal space.

Your legs are touching now, faces so close your nose is nearly brushing his. One of his hands has come to brace against the armrest you’re leaning on, allowing him to stay leaning in.

“Hey,” he says, little more than a whisper and clearly hushed so the others don’t hear.

“Hey yourself,” you respond, earning yourself a low snort.

Instead of vocally responding, he pushes himself back up to a sitting position and then moves his hands to maneuver your legs until you’re no longer curled up against the couch’s backing but sitting like a normal person.

Then he lays down, head resting on your thighs, and turns to face the movie.

You’re grinning uncontrollably. All possible self-conscious thoughts of the others seeing you are dashed from your mind; you like the weight of him in your lap too much.

You spend much of the rest of the movie like that, easily over half an hour. A few minutes in he reaches down to find your hand and bring it to his hair, encouraging you to stroke it. It’s even softer than you’ve imagined in the past, fluffy and thick and genuinely nice to run your hands though. There’s a surge of contentment that rushes through you, and maybe a little bit of pride at the knowledge that you can do this pretty much any time you want now.

By the end of the film, you’re pretty sure Shinsou’s fallen asleep. He gives you the scare of your life, however, when he grabs your arm as you’re trying to pull away. His eyes open, purple irises trained on you.

What happens next you blame on grogginess, him still not quite being awake. He blames it on you; whenever you mention it, he says he saw you and had become consumed with an overwhelming desire to just lean up and kiss you. Whatever the reason, it’s nice for you.

His hand comes up to the back of your neck, tugging you down just as much as he lifts up. It begins soft, kind of sweet, just lips as the two of you melt into each other—but it doesn’t stay that way for long. Within moments the two of you morph the kiss from a quick peck after a movie to a very passionate makeout, and frankly you’d be more concerned if they hadn’t interrupted the two of you.

You pull away when you hear Kaminari’s wolf whistle, left sitting on the loveseat with a burning face and your boyfriend in your lap, still half asleep.

Shigaraki

You’re not jealous.

No, you’ve been dating Tomura for months. You can’t be jealous when he’s, well, yours, and has been for quite some time. You’re his first relationship, his first everything, and it’s frankly foolish of you to feel this insecure just because some floozy is simpering at him from across the enormous room where you and the rest of the League are scattered about. It’s not like she really wants him, or even knows him; he’s just the hew big-shot leader and she’s decided being his lover sounds good. Too bad that role’s already taken.

Still, there’s a sinking feeling in your chest—an ache in your heart, a burning lump in your throat—that says now that Tomura is Grand Commander he’ll drop you for someone better.

You don’t realize you’re glaring daggers at the woman until she catches your eye. She has no business looking that smug; the only reason she’s allowed in the room is to give Tomura reports. You’re the one lounging next to him as she approaches; he has your legs over his lap, his thumb absent-mindedly rubbing circles on your thigh.

And when she bends down to drop the report on his lap (as if your damn legs aren’t there, you want to scoff) she draws the eyes of every League member except the one she wants, because you’re the one who has Tomura’s attention.

He’s wearing Father, but you’ve long passed being afraid when he looks at you from between those lifeless digits and you can see the expression beneath; those lips tugging down slightly in a pout, brow furrowed, eyes far softer than they have any damn business being while hiding behind the severed hand of his old man. He’s concerned, and a little confused.

Tomura plucks the report from your legs and sets it aside, reaching to pull you fully into his lap. To your surprise he takes Father off, too; he buries his face into your neck to prevent the outsider from seeing, lips just brushing your ear so that you can hear him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Hm?”

“You’ve been pouting ever since the secretary came in, brat.”

Like hell you’re saying anything in front of her. You remain stubbornly silent.

He doesn’t like that, you can tell, but while the secretary’s interest is lost on him he knows you well enough to tell that you’re uncomfortable with her. Presumably that’s why he doesn’t press the issue and kisses you instead.

You don’t expect it. Tomura’s not exactly one to shy away from PDA (you’re sitting in his lap in front of the whole League, for fuck’s sake), but intimacy is something he’s never wanted to take beyond closed doors. When he’s in a sour mood you’ll kiss him sometimes, even in public (he’s invigorated by your affection in many way, but never anything you’d call heated.

This kiss, though, is. It’s anything but chaste, perhaps even downright lewd. He’s all but initiating a makeout with you while Miss Secretary is standing right there. Maybe his affection-motivated ways are rubbing off on you, but it helps more than it probably ought to.

You’re dazed by the time he pulls away. The sound of the door slamming closed snaps you from your trance. The secretary, ploy foiled simply by your annoyed expression, had left. It doesn’t matter. None of this was ever really about her in the first place.

“There,” Tomura says, audibly quite pleased with himself. “She’s gone. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

You sigh, leaning in to tuck your own head into his shoulder. Your voice is muffled when you speak, quiet so that only he can hear.

“It’s dumb.”

“It’s bothering you,” he says simply. There’s an underlying statement there: tell me so I can destroy it for you. In many ways, Tomura is a predictable man.

You know he’s not going to drop it, so you accept your fate. “She was making a pass at you.”

He tenses beneath you, holding you closer. You risk lifting your head from where it’s buried to see the way his nose is scrunched up. “She wasn’t.”

“Yeah, she was.”

There’s a pause, like he’s processing everything you’re saying. Then, seemingly finally registering what exactly is bothering you, his hands move to grip your hips and maneuver you to straddle him, sitting fully on his lap facing him. “Fine. Why’re you pissed about it, then?”

You lean in again, arms coming to wrap around his neck as you bury your face into his chest and try to ignore the tears that are coming. You’d never be able to live it down if any of the others saw you crying over the fucking secretary.

But you know more than anyone thanks to many late nights assuring your boyfriend he’s the only one for you that Tomura can empathize with this insecurity. It’s a little strange how the script has flipped.

“She’s a high ranking MLA member, she probably has some crazy strong quirk. I’m quirkless. I dunno. I guess I’m scared you’ll drop me for someone like her. Like I said, it’s dumb.”

He doesn’t speak for a moment. You sit there, listening to his heartbeat and matching your breathing to his. Then he speaks.

“Your emotions aren’t dumb. It’s okay that you’re feeling this way. Thank you for telling me.” He’s parroting you, you realize; this is what you tell him every time he comes to you for comfort when he’s gotten in a mood. You feel a little fuzzy, warmth flooding your chest. “But I think we both know they’re irrational.”

“Tomura… I—”

“I’m not interested in some lame-ass NPC,” he interrupts, no hesitation and entirely sincere. He doesn’t even need to think about it. “You’re my player two, my endgame. The only thing in this world worth protecting. You really think that secretary can hold a candle to you? I didn’t even notice her. Why would I when you’re here?”

You can’t help it, you surge upward and kiss him, just as passionately as he had you mere moments before. His right hand traces up your spine to find the back of your neck and pull you closer, sending a thrill through your body as your own arms tighten around him.

“Oi! Horndogs! Get a damn room, don’t make us see that!”

You break away at Dabi’s words, panting slightly, and if the sincerity of Tomura’s little rant hadn’t convinced you that his words were true, the look of utter adoration he’s regarding you with would have.

savior | fyodor x gn!reader

pt. 2 of broken from my angstcember series

anon 1:  Hey bestie, how are you? I hope your doing well and staying safe, can I get some more Fyodor content? P.S your my fave bsd writer atm xx

anon 2: Can you make a part 2 of “broken” the angsty fyodor fic, really enjoyed that one

summary: you knew that your relationship with fyodor would one day lead to you lying on the ground and him standing over you, holding your life in his hands. except, you didn’t think he’d choose to save you

words: 1.5k words

contains: mentions of death, blood, murder, emotional manipulation, your regular fyodor fic 

a/n: i have a whole bunch of fyodor requests so i decided to put both of these in one. also haha flattered that somebody would ask for a pt. 2 of that fic. that said, i tried to write this in such a way that you could read it independently from broken. 

fyodor knows all too well just how fragile human beings are. after all, he was born with a physically weak body and as much as he wanted to dismiss that reality, it would often catch up to him in the form of his own bodily limitations. luckily, he had his own genius to more than make up for that and it only convinced fyodor that he was greater than the average human.

his subordinates came and went, some of them fyodor had intentionally disposed of to benefit a plan, such was the nature of their work. he had grown used to standing over people grasping for their last breath before fyodor himself kindly put them out of their misery with his own ability. 

he knew very well that one day, he’d be doing the same to you.

“so... this is what came of you,” he mused, looking down at your body. one of your hands was pressed to a bullet wound on your side and blood pooled beneath your body. your eyes were glassy and focused at the ceiling but fyodor could tell from the slight rise and fall of your chest that you were very much alive.

he kneeled down and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. with a soft smile on his face, he remembered the you from a year ago: the young university student that he met in a library with the shy smile and the soft expression. ‘so innocent,’ fyodor thought, chuckling softly. and now, look where you ended up.

“tell me, did you intend to get yourself shot?” he asked. your eyes landed on his and your breath rattled as you inhaled.

“you could figure that out for yourself,” you replied. 

“since when did my dear y/n get so cheeky?” fyodor sighed, resting his chin on his hand. 

“i hope... you don’t die... anytime soon,” you struggled to say.

“hm? have you grown fond of me?” 

“no,” you chuckled, only to cough painfully on your own blood. though, it looked like you didn’t regret it. “i just want to enjoy a few years in hell before having to see you there.”

that got fyodor chuckling again. “maybe i will miss you y/n,” he said. you smirked at him.

“screw you.” 

you closed your eyes, expecting fyodor to deliver the final blow. he observed you silently for a few seconds, his hand hovering just over your wrist, only to reach into his pocket to pull out a phone.

“nikolai? i’ll need some help here.”

...

you thought those were your final words because you slipped into unconsciousness right after saying them only to wake up a day later lying on a couch in an unfamiliar room. 

“what the--” you looked around groggily and found a bandage over the bullet wound in your side and what appeared to be an IV drip injected into your arm. fuck, you were still alive. only question is, where were you?

you got your answer just a few seconds later and almost wished you hadn’t.

“oh good, you’re finally awake,” fyodor said, entering the living room. he wasn’t dressed in his usual ensemble and wore a plain sweater and pants. for a minute there, you could imagine yourself back in that library a year ago before everything happened. “well, the bullet didn’t hit any fatal areas either so you’ll be good to go in a week maybe.” you clenched your jaw.

“why the fuck did you save me?” 

“is that anything to say to your savior?” fyodor tutted and sat down on the armchair nearest you. 

“you’re not my savior. not if the only reason why you chose to save me is to just toy with me,” you seethed. 

“hmm, you make a compelling argument,” fyodor nodded contemplatively. “though, that’s not entirely the case.”

“care to tell me what it is then?” you asked in a mocking tone. you hated that no matter how much venom you put in your words, fyodor would just chuckle as if he was watching a child threaten him. but to him, you were just as threatening as a child.

he leaned back in the armchair and cocked his head while regarding you. “having you around... entertains me.”

the way he enunciated every syllable sent shivers down your spine. you know that fyodor was always good at pandering to your insecurities, making you feel as if you were his whole world when in fact you were probably just a pawn to him. no way were you going to fall for this again.

luckily, months of working for his terrorist organization sharpened your movements. with one hand, you grabbed the letter opener from the coffee table and swung it at fyodor. except, his hand grabbed your wrist in mid-air just as you were about to plunge it into his throat. the point of the letter opener was pressed against his throat but your captor was completely unharmed.

“see what i mean?” he smirked at you. “was it just last year when you were desperate enough to leave me that you got yourself caught? and now look at you,” he crooned, twirling a strand of your hair with his long index finger. “so defiant now.” 

his grip on your wrist tightened and you dropped the letter opener. “just you wait. one day i’ll--”

“you’ll what? run away and try to live a normal life? you know better than that, y/n. with everything you’ve done under me, how could you possibly live amongst mere humans?” fyodor scoffed. “and dying? my dear y/n, you never really wanted to die that day, did you?” he smiled knowingly. 

the hesitation must have been clear on your face because fyodor let go of your wrist. you felt yourself sit back down on the couch you had been lying on. “you’re one of the only people i haven’t been able to completely control and i think that in itself makes it worth having you around.” 

“and if i decide to use that against you?” you asked. 

fyodor stood up and made his way across the room to the kitchen. “that’s always up to you,” he said, feigning nonchalance. “now, how do you like your tea?”

...

you spent that entire week recovering in fyodor’s place and it was strangely incident-free. he’d be away most of the day after all and often came back in the late hours of the night, asking about your condition if he caught you awake and even offering to bring back painkillers if needed. at one point, the two of you even had dinner together. that is, if sitting at the table drinking in soup while fyodor rambled on about the next stage of his grand plan could be counted.

a year ago, before you knew of his true colors, you would have wanted something like this with fyodor. you would have wanted him to come home to you making dinner and spend the rest of the night listening to him read out from your favorite book. of course, that scenario was just a pale ghost now in comparison to your reality, but sometimes you tried a bit harder to convince yourself otherwise. 

“you’re all healed. i suppose you could leave now if you wanted,” fyodor observed. “of course, you could come and go here anytime you like.”

“thanks but, no thanks,” you said stoically.

“hmm, shame,” fyodor sighed. “i won’t even be around for the next couple of weeks.” 

“so, you’re really planning to get yourself put in jail,” you said, looking up at him. fyodor was standing in the middle of the bathroom with the door ajar, fiddling with the ends of his dark hair. 

“just for a while,” he hummed. and then, “my hair is too long again. y/n, could you cut it for me?”

the request took you aback and it took you a while to realize that fyodor was serious with his request with the way he looked at you expectantly. slowly, you got up off the couch and walked over to the bathroom where he was. 

“how short do you want it?” 

“just at my shoulder,” fyodor answered. with one hand, he reached into one of the bathroom drawers and pulled out a pair of scissors. they weren’t just the regular kind of office stationery. the scissors were made completely of metal and the blades were long and sharp at the very tip. 

when he handed the scissors to you, fyodor’s gaze lingered pointedly on yours long enough for you to understand what he was doing. the corner of his lip curled slightly upwards before he turned back around. of course, he was taunting you.

the metal was cold in your hands and carried substantial weight. with fyodor’s back turned, you could probably kill him if you wanted to; plunge the blades deep into his back or his nape and have him crumple to the floor. then, you’d be the one standing over him, waiting to see what kind of person fyodor would be in his last few moments of life.

but he knew you too well.

“lean your head a bit forward,” you whispered. fyodor obeyed and you started snipping at his hair. not once did he even look up at the mirror to check your progress, placing his complete faith in you.

it was better to be at the devil’s side than his enemy. 

▸ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ◂

taglist (check out my post for details on being part of my taglist): @kiyoobi​ @atsumusdomain​ @laure-chan​ @goodfoodxoxoxo​ @guardianangelswings​ @kei-ya​ @loisuke​ @whootwhoot​ @liz-multifandom-hotel @kac-chowsballs​ @violentfarewll @fyoyacanruinmylifethanks​ @nightmare-light​ ​ @miyakiyo0mi​ @whorefordazai​ @rirk-ke​ @cross-crye @alohablue @duhsies @alittlesimp

I’m gonna vent anyway even tho nobody here gives a fuck I’ve had this blog for 5 years and I only have 200 followers and I have made no friends

If whoever created me on this planet was going to give me severe depression and anxiety with a big dash of undiagnosed adhd for 16 years of my life couldn’t they have ATLEAST born me into a financially stable home like honestly that would be so beneficial

I have no motivation to do anything ever for anybody including myself I literally failed my last semester of school. I’ve never done that before and I’m so scared I’m not gonna get into college and I’m never getting any scholarships and I don’t know if my parents can even afford college I’m basically poor but not really I just mean that everybody else around me has so much more money than I do and I feel so shitty all the time I can’t take care of myself I’ve gained so much weight since developing depression over the last 3 years and everybody makes me feel like shit about it but I’m too poor to do anything about either like how the fuck did I go from a size 00 to an 8 I fucking hate myself over it but especially because of how I’ve let others influence how I feel about myself I have literally starved myself for so long AND EVEN THAT DIDNT WORK WHAT THE FUCK??? Anyways like,,, THERES NOTHING WRONG WITH BEING A SIZE 8!!!!! But I’m severely short I’m literally 4’10 and all my life I was a naturally thin person like you know how there’s some people that just ARE thin yeah that was me AND NOW IM NOT BECAUSE IVE SPENT YEARS CRYING IN BED WATCHING TV SHOWS I have no motivation to get up out of bed and it’s been a problem for years but especially now with quarantine it’s so much worse. I have no joy in literally anything. AND I CANT EVEN DO ANYTHING ABOUT ALL OF MY WEIGHT GAIN BECAUSE IM SO DEPRESSED I DONT EVEN HAVE THE WILL TO LIVE ANYMORE I WISH EVERYTHING WOULD STOP AND PAUSE AND THAT THE NUMBERS ON THE SCALE WOULD STOP GOING UP AND MY TEACHERS WOULD STOP ASSIGNING ASSIGNMENTS AND THAT I WOULD STOP LOSING FRIENDS AND THAT I WOULDNT EVER HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT MONEY EVER AGAIN.

And I can’t even get myself out of my financial situation literally ever because I fucking hate school so much I used to be so good at it but the thought of writing one more essay could really be the thing that drives me off the edge and this screwed up system is rigged so the only way to confirm good and true success is through college degrees and I am just now getting treatment for adhd that I’ve had all my life but was too poor to get diagnosed with and that’s been a huge disadvantage to my academic life like insanely and since I’m now horrible in school I won’t go to college and since I won’t go to college I’ll live my life being dirt poor as always and whoever said money can’t buy happiness is a fucking ugly ass liar if I had money I would still be good at school because I would’ve gotten treatment for adhd way long ago which means my depression and anxiety wouldn’t have gotten as bad as they are which means I wouldn’t have gained as much weight as I have which means I wouldn’t be as insecure as I am to the point I literally want to die. Money could’ve made this all avoidable.

I’m having such a pity party for myself right now. Everything that could be wrong in my life currently is except I’m not homeless but I’ve been living in a tiny ass apartment my whole life. Also my family isn’t physically abusive but I’m their mental punching bag which is so hard to accept because I love them so much.

And I’m putting tags on this just because I at least want somebody in this universe somewhere to hear me, to see me, to let me know I’m not as invisible as I constantly feel.

Also if there’s any teens out there who want to be friends 🤪😎😏 slide in my chats I swear I’m funny and pretty (debateable) what other qualities would you want?

hey y'all so um i gotta vent a little so if y'all are not in the mental space to listen to a chick complaining, skip over, seriously. i won't mind. i also will be talking about weight and body image and shit so if you're not in the headspace to listen to that either, skip it, i'll be okay with that :). im venting on her because ive been really lonely lately (lately as in, like, since i turned 13 lol) and no one really knows me on here so i don't have to care about how i come across.

I've hated my body for most of my life. ive always been overweight and while since i became a teenager ive learned not be insecure about it and there have been times where i feel like im the shit, when it gets bad, it gets BAD. ive had a little self sabotage spiral for the past week. ive been insecure about how i look, I've felt really guilty and ashamed everytime I've eaten and i haven't been able to stay clean with regards to my SH. ive not even had the privacy to break down and get it over with so i can begin to come back from this (desi families, am i right?) I was a fat kid, people made snide remarks about it all the time, my whole family made comments about it and compared me to my sister, literal strangers would comment on my appearance, every time i visited a doctor for concerns other than my weight they always blamed it on me being overweight. it's not even about me not being active because I've been dancing hardcore since i was 6 and im 17 now, I'd also workout 3 to 4 times a week. When i was little and wanted to participate in school dance events, i wouldn't be given a chance because i was "too fat" and they thought i couldn't dance. it fucked with me so badly and it's still stuck with me. my school PE teacher laughed at me when I asked him if he could teach me how to do a discus throw (for a school team thing) and it hurt like a bitch. Everywhere i look there are all these skinny people who wear whatever they want and look good in it (i understand they can be insecure, too so don't come at me for it). I'm the biggest of all my friends and my family and they make sure i don't forget it. I've always had to try harder to prove myself in other ways because my appearance is the first thing people notice and they tend to dismiss me. I know im pretty and beautiful and that i have worth regardless of how i look and that my body is the least interesting thing about me, but it gets really hard to believe that when everyone implies otherwise.

Anyhoo, that's all for now, i guess. I'm sorry for the rant lol.

Hello! @flootweed replying to the post from before. the long format was killing me. why does tumblr look like this...

I haven’t watched episode 8 yet...or have I? If it’s the most recent one. No.

Is the hornbill a bird? It probably is but I have a terrible memory and I’m dumb so. I skipped the last few weeks because I’m scawwed. How are you liking it? I did see someone say that the hornbill makes sense (without knowing what it is...at all) bc heart transplant patients only live like 5-15 years after but someone in those comments pointed out that he was so young when he got his and that’s pretty rare so he has a higher likelihood of survival. Frankly, this is the only way I will proceed. Since when did shows ever care about the heart transplant health? Never and it needs to stay that way!

What did we think of ep 6? LMAO. I need opinions! And omg it makes me feel special when I can point things out to people because I so...rarely get to LOL. Editing is like one of my favorite things ever so I can be super particular about it but I try to do the thing you do when you’re supposed to see if it works within its context. I’d like to go in with scissors and glue but alas. 

THe mic covering....the rustling....it’s like guys...please. Ironically the audio today wasn’t great. I don’t know why. IDK if you watch c-dramas but I am not even sure what’s worse between them because they dub their dramas. But actually no it’s best to have the dubbing because even tho it is painful they have to put a lot of effort into it. LOL. 

Right? @ Aey! It’s just weird if they would show us more about what he’s done instead of saying he’s done sth bad and not even explaining that....like you could even do some shitty exposition. I think if he is to be a true villain then we really need to be privvy. All the warnings make it seem like he’s a fuckin’ serial killer so when we get the scene of him at home it’s like....actually this is really serious? Maybe his pain is like...for a reason. Althought you won’t even TELL US WHAT HE’S DONE WRONG BESIDES BE JUST FUCKING WEIRD AND ANNOYING! So from what we have it’s just a realllllllll fucked up sad person lol. god i forgot about the dinner! and i totally agree. he really needs them to succeed. i like your theory because it would make the scene where he like blocks the twitter user make more sense. he also says they dont really know each other etc so it’s realllllyyyyy probable that he just sees it as a way out. if not then we shall pretend u wrote it :)

god yea i wouldnt say it is art but i also guess we technically have to since it is technically. in the way that technically performance artists are artists but mostly i uh technically ignore them. Also one of my fav BLs is called the best twins. If you do not know what it is I will not elaborate further.t 

i want to know more abt poli sci majors lmao but they sound DRAMATIC/ hopefully most ppl in ur cohort arent losers! 

hahahha i understand. there was just a thing on twitter about DSA and then the day before about reading discourse. the same thiings. over. and over. and over. and over. we are our own worst enemies but also our own best friends? but i hate tankies and that wont change. but hasan’s a decent guy. he said sth abt black ppl during biden’s primaries in GA or whatever and i was like chill. but he’s insecure and has adhd which means ur more open to being wrong and changing otherwise u will suffocate and die. 

and totally about hiding fuck ups. i’ve tried really hard bc of organizing IRL to like...be honest, question, etc but also like...approach it naturally? because if you’re trying to be perfect and so worried you’ll fuck up you don’t realize that puts  more stress on you, makes you seem like a robot, and could potentially not make you realize the mistkaes you made. also if we’re privileged in certain spaces there is just no possible way we won’t get something wrong. im light and i know that honestly any way to speak up on colorism is going to be difficult and that’s a space where i have power so i just have to figure it out. we should be uncomfortable because we have to sit with unpleasant feelings and sort through our own whatever. that just makes the next time even better and people can trust u more.  i think some people sweat it sooo much or maybe they think their personal life and what theyve been through is more the norm? on the other hand people can be sf reactionary in the worst way and idk what their issue is. there was also a user who said sth very inch arresting about tankies which i thoroughly enjoyed (how like violent lefitsts or tankies / ppl who are like ooh a gun whatever just want to be violent in another space so they have shit tendencies from jump and nothing of substance which i think i agree with tbh fo ra lottttt of ppl. like their anger is actually like “no im about to beat that ass” instead of what we actually want to get done) 

sort of in the same vein re: taking it easy...we coudl all be more understanding too. to slow it down like you mentioned about not being privvy to fucking eveyrthing and saying anything on our mind. i saw this person talk about y2k which was a huge deal while happening bc it was the turn of the millenium (bruh were u even alive?) but this twitter user grew up in a super super SUPER religious household and was like why do ppl make jokes about Y2K it was insanely traumatizing? though my first instinct was confused ive tried hard to like look more before i judge especially thanks to a friend of mine. turns out that with the further reading the more we found out he was just really traumatized; it was very common in religious households to be afraid of 2000. so we could have come at him with no understanding and he could have thought that everyone had the same experience with that year that he did. his feelings sit precedent though but i think it was just very hard for him to fathom. 

i didnt reply bc he didnt need that and what could i have said? he’ll see what the truth is with exposure and unfortunately this was something he really did go through. 

and that’s what makes most people think others could be over the top. because it sounded ridiculous but then it was this huge traumatic thing that we could have never known about. so maybe when someone sounds like actually crazy they have an explanation? of course some ppl are just batshit or annoying but that’s anywhere not just leftists it’ just means more i guess when a ~~librul is annoyed~ but it can be easy to want to make fun of ppl too. lmao.  basically what i am saying is the internet? especially twitter? for leftists? in this economy? bitch it’s the wild west out here.

i am 29! idk if i said it or not. i am OLD u probably werent even born in the year i was talking about wah. i know not old-old or old at all but compared to you i’m due for a colonoscopy.

omg i hope u can get vaxxed soon! are you wfh rn? i hope ur also not in a bad state as in state state not state as in ur being :| bleh what a fucking time. it sucks that you have to fucking do work. well unless u like school. which i hope u do. i just assume everyone hates it cos i did lmao

was it the lindsay ellis drama? that bitch is dumb. if there was other drama oh wait the drama i was referring to it all happened on the same day. idk book twitter that well but i saw something from someone who was abt that shit and wowie! the american people are not that.....intelligent to put it lightly.

i’ll get better. ppl tell me they miss me and im like aw. i have insanellllyyy bad insomnia and a lot of stuff happened this year HOWEVER I SLEPT FOR TWO DAYS FOR 8 HOURS AT A REASONABLE TIME. im a new woman.  anyways you too! i hope ur not too burnt out with school. we just dont know when the burnout is or we just dont know we are burnt out until we are. the panaramiciccici hit and all the things i was ignoring kind of just fell on me and sooo much happened at once. and frankly it’s hard to take care of ourselves. lord. 

Like if you aren’t interested in expanding on the issue in a way that hasn’t been done before all you gotta do it like… spread resources and donate if you can. I dont see the point in having to say something about every issue especially if you (not at you specifically just in general) aren’t immediately impacted by the issue. Like is the 14 yr old white marxist named sarah on twitter really gonna have meaningful insight on anti-asian violence ?

this is part of why i cannot telecommunicate. i dont want to do shit on the internet. i am able bodied so i know that this time has been of such ease for other people. but mentally i just can’t. i don’t have a comment on hand like that and i hvae no desire to engage with ppl that way. i am a super super super solitary person but thats bc it’s MY time so when it’s like all this effort with other people i dont ever want to be alone. it’s the same with the way i approach filmmaking. it isnt a sole thing so i hate it not together. that’s part of how u can get so sucked in and repeat doom scrolling. i was in this webinar last may after [redacted] and this black woman prof said “read with a community and talk” because otherwise she said we are torturing ourselves. you can’t carry that weight all on your own. unfortunately i hate zoom, discord, slack, signal, whatsapp, facetime. you name it this panera has made it evi.. L

you make a really excellent point. i think the young young gen zers are really really just interesting because it’s like this whole new world for them with leftist politics and they just can’t grasp the horrors of the world and the kind of freedom being a leftist can bring. and so many people don’t grow out of it. those people so happen to be the “least productive” in terms of how much time they spend IRL withe these issues. naturally, younger kids are gonna have a harder time. they are not as mobile as well so the internet becomes this place. but then it’s this echo chamber. and many times just things posted without sources. and social media NEEDS that to exist.

i think of the irony of leftist kids on tik tok and while i am happy it’s reaching them it’s just....different. very different. the growth of social media is so good but also so fucking sad, it’s too much! i think the point about not writing everything is major. even i have to do this which is part of the disappearing.y ou need to detach and make sure your head is on straight again. but when you think eveyrone has to be privvy to every thought and you can’t just sit back....which twitter and social media doesn’t encourage. you have to join in. that’s often why when i have something to say it is dense because i don’t feel like repeating it. ever. lmao ust ever. i cant pay attn. social media is a fucking minefield for my brain u can get so lost in it and absorb it but once u start talking you may not be able to stop. 

i think a big part of that is it not being a leisurely thing but sort of just in our lives always. this sounds like a grandpa rant but ykwim. We dont have to see the same thing over and over again. And eventually it gets sincerely diluted or its diluted bc of capitalism or whatever. Or if theyre very young or maybe they don’t have like the greatest way of sharing the knowledge? then it can be butchered. I hope this is making sense...i’m talking beyoond the boring surface-level milquetoast shit. i see really ahistorical stuff on there from leftists (like this thing about NK + africa and it being a beneficial rship as opposed to a um not beneficial one. and it isn’t.  beneficial but this young black girl was talking abt it and noname rtd and i was like it’s just too complex. there’s no good/bad here just bc it’s not america. dont get me started on this.)

but Lol that was kinda off topic but I think what I meant in my last reply about not turning off the voice in my head is about when I consume media, not necessarily when I’m online talking about. Even if I have criticism for something, I’m usually pretty chill when consuming fandom content bc I think being serious online all the time is kinda boring. Like sometimes I’m analyzing theme and shit but really most of the time im memeing.

exactly.........gotta laugh. thats why sometimes im like i cant think lmao. unfrotunately i have been ARGUING with ppl on the internet for rly no reason when  i could have replied to ur very nice fun wholesome message. i love torture. i miss memes.

“ i think the people who get the least enjoyment out of that are those so obsessed with getting upset with anyone thinking outside of their lines as if it equates to them “ EXACTLYYYYY

kekekekeke im glad u got it. it’s like with conservatives throwing around snowflake. now im beginning to question who the real complainers are. 

LMAO exactlyyyy. i posted a screenshot of this writer from twitter saying that exact thing. Like first of all, I’m...an adult? and if you are as well uh? i’m sorry for you but are we 12? But how is it affecting u this viscerally? And if it does why dont u...do...research? pihgofuaipoajghou but honestly everything u said. we’re trained to go into it with nothing. i was only around ur age when i started to get more serious about this stuff but you’re like lightyears ahead of where i was at 21. did i say this but i’m in iww and literally i can tell u in 2016 i did not think 2019 me would be in a union bc i told my friend in a train station that we don’t need unions. i was 23...but the thing is i didnt know what i was talking about. at all. and i knew i didnt know and she knew i didnt know and now i am the clown.

also yes at critical engagement. i had to learn so much through experience and this is tuff that i coudlnt be shielded from. there’s an empathy you kinda have to develop and this understanding that you move through the world as this person who is “nowhere and everywhere; nothing and everything” so i’ve always had to think about things differently just to survive. that’s also what can drag a lot of people towards it like theres so many black kpop fans bc i think a lot of the pain in SK can be mirrored (sort of) through our history. and theres currently a history now but it had to be forged. uh what was my point oh yea however i wouldnt have been able to move further if i didnt have my background to go off of  bc i knew something was off when i started getting into all these things (ill give u a hint) but if i had no prior knowledge and didnt have to think about it then the critical approach is either stale or stupid. 

i had to research but i dont understand how ppl are so bold with little to no research and understanding? thhey just inherently know with also like ZERO experience in what they need experience in. engaging critically means “how i see the world” with dashes of trying to be open adn understanding or whatever. actually that’s another thing like being afraid of criticizing things bc theyre foreign to you so u give it a pass (like we discussed) but it doesnt hAVE TO BEEEE JUST REAAAAAD and then take all the info ur teensy brain and apply it. be a normal human being and dont be fucking rude and racist. thats it! u can complain abt literally anything without being a dick.

as we start with LW and end with LW.....what do we think (i asked this already) omg please share wbl thoughts i THINK i know what ur talking about. well it could be two things; their rship when they came back and the physicality and then pei shou yi. i almost dont even want to use my brain to fucking look at that. i think wbl can get away with more bc of visual~*~*~* reasons (like literally, the look of the show. there’s more space to get lost in the frames. many thai dramas are a lot more literal? this isn’t the right word but it’s very heavily character focused particularly bc of $ i think) though good production also underscores flaws so i am also wrong. but like do u know what i mean? u have to kinda focus on it? or maybe it’s just cos like.....ur so used to it in thai bl idek. i’ve seen tw bl ofc. 

look i swear i will justify this forever bc there are some things we miss right but if u feel like someone’s a bad actor....theyre bad. it’s about tone movement etc etc etc and since most thai bl productions have 0 interest in that....well. they take these newbies and put them in these situations. we dont understand thai but if we see them and we’re like “wow this is really bad” then they’re bad lmao. IDC i will never be like cos idk what theyre saying NO WHY HE LOOK LIKE A ROBOT???????? DOES HE EMOTE? why is he CRYING WITH NO TEARS? and it’s not even a total requisite to cry with tears(i mean for me it is) but it’s just like what is happening on ur face right now young man????????

painful.

the inflection stuff is very valid ooh good point tho but that’s only a part of the piece. plus we get used to the way they communicate. like the ppl from sotus were prtty bad. i dont like that show but thats an ex of ppl liing the actors and the person i thought was better other ppl dont think that? well apparently hes a shitty guy but. um. so when theres decent acting its so glaring.

although i must say even tho i dont care for 2gether anymore and would never like to be reminded about its existence (only bc i just cringe lol) i honestly....didnt think bright was a bad actor? but people keep saying he is and i am much more inclined to believe them than myself. though i am not often dickmatized that could have been it. until he opened his mouth and ruined it and then i stopped paying attn.

although honestly i’m so much more critical than i could be positive. i have ben stumped for the last day about how i wasnt mad at his acting in the show. is it me? is it him? who’s......the wrong one.....(me) 

oh shit they have been denied? i haven’t been paying attn to whats been going on recently. i just got into it on MDL because of snowdrop. sometimes i literally cannot engage bc ill just be like alright well im black so this power button in my head is going off when ppl talk abt that shit. back in the day when kpop jawns were saying some real outta pocket anti black shit (now everyone is slick with it) it’d always be THEY DONT HAVE GOOGLE THEYVE NEVER SEEN A BLACK PERSON but really it’s like no...maybe they are just racist? that’s ok too.

also the past 2 weeks have been um atrocious bc how fucking easily people fell into the pit of white supremacy and started to turn their ire towards black people and making a competition between our groups just like they wanted. it’s not about the women who are dead anymore, who were sex workers, their womanhood, being asian, being poor anymore. it’s about how much black people get attention and why people only pay attn to us. i am not feeling very generous this week for ppl to excuse that hsit.

on a lighter note, ppl say that abt the whole husband and wife thing. i dont know how to explain how angry that shit makes me but maybe it’s because i do not want to think of my body in relation to a fucking penis at all hours of the day. if bls could kindly not do that it would be nice lmao 

yes there are a lot of those. who are only there to gawk lmao. and just idk worship bc of the cult of personality thing bc of how weird and open they have to be as actors. some of the others are people who /think/ theyre really smart (i think im asmart but i also think i am very dumb and i have adhd to prove that MEDICALLY!!!) but are actually not? or their observations arent great? or idk if they are they arent interesting? but i think well..........we have more refined palettes :P

jk also theres just different personalities. you and  i mesh more bc we have a lot of the same beliefs and are coming from the same place. that makes it easier to understand as well. i really try to remember that but some people are really weird so. again just...the perception of certain things even down to acting skills. but i also dont like.......believe this genre can really do anything at all. on one hand i want them to do it right bc it’s a piece of work so they should. be proud of it. cos most things arent advancing us bc representation and culturalism are a lie bla bla. it’s just that when the depictions are negative or not done well it adds to the problem as opposed to the things that are well done are fairly benign and can’t really pull us back (perf example is the black panther film. i woudl definitely not say it was transgressive as a literal work but visually it’s just stunning. and it’s sad that it’s stunning and surprising but still with basically an all black cast of mostly dark people abd like what it means in the zeitgeist yes. it’s also just a good movie. but it’s still imperialist prop and unfortunately and this is fucking pathetic to say it “opened eyes” in other countries where they hate black ppl and ignore their own racialized minorities HENNYWAYSSSS a better ex is moonlight except moonlight isnt mainstream and is indie tho...still thru a funnel of capital bc a24 but who cares bleed the fuckers dry is my motto. my point is moonlight is both a great work and doesnt bring any failures to the table and its existence helps in ways outside of art but they arent the defining things giving us material advancement sooooo i mean it’s complex (this is my conclusion to everything um guys it’s complex) 

er i had one more point in conjunction to above. oh yea so i like dont need all these extra things to make it progressive. like people really want more women in the show and i am honestly like i really dont. i dont want them to actively do this. if they cant do it naturally then let someone else do it. i am not asking for more bc i dont want it from them. when something comes along i embrace it but i do not see why women should be represented when the genre RELIES on patriarchy. there is no complete satisfying existence for the women in these series. i dont want it. i dont ask people to show us~*~* or respect~* like fuck no the people who make it make it and hopefully more will make it in the future but i will not beg bc THEY DONT WANT TO DO IT SO WOULD FORCING IT MAKE IT BETTER? just fucking leave them out entirely. that’s the answer if theyre gonna make nasty female characters then those bitches can geaux. we have other plcaes to be. booked. and. BUSY!

I’ve also further progressed in my Vorkosigan re-read! Memory was as wonderful as I remembered (Illyan and Miles going fishing via improvised hand grenade out of boredom is always a highlight). 

I love the way Bujold structures her books---I talked about that a bunch with Mirror Dance---but Memory is just brilliantly laid out. Miles is spiraling, Miles fucks up, Miles gets fired (the closest pop-culture parallel I can think of is a superhero having to permanently revert to their mundane secret identity), Miles’s friends manage to yank him out of the mire, and then... surprise bizarre out-of-sequence murder mystery! The victim’s not dead! Miles keeps finding clues out of sequence and realizing he was meant to be framed! And god, you’re so sure it’s Haroche right at the start and then you have that moment of “oh well shit of course he thinks Miles might have it in for the boss that just eviscerated his identity” and so you’re still surprised when that first instinct was right! And then he offers Miles his life as Naismith back. Even Cordelia placed a bet on Miles giving up his life as Vorkosigan. And... he doesn’t. Mirror Dance was about Mark fracturing himself to survive. Memory is about Miles dragging himself back together to live.

I love how Illyan takes the loss of his memory chip---it’s fundamentally a piece of him gone, but it’s also freedom from thirty years of being a tool of his emperor (and then of Aral), and his embracing this destruction of his identity and learning to move forward is such a great foil/foreshadowing for Miles’s revelation. Everything in this story is about moving forward, not without regrets, but moving forward. It’s so fitting that the romance story going on in the background is Alys and Illyan, two 60-somethings, falling in love (and god, I love the scene where Miles wanders in on them in the morning and thinks something like “huh that dress is more of an evening style isn’t it?” and then like ten hours later the penny drops).

And god, Miles and Elli. I love how this was done, how it’s made apparent that you can love someone, and they can love you, and you can be very good for each other in a lot of ways, but your circumstances can still be such that marriage will annihilate one or both of you. It’s nobody’s fault, but the inevitability and recognition of it means it’s not always a devastation: “He could feel the letting-go in them, with the easing of the tension and the terror, with the slowing of every pulse of their blood. Not pain, or not so much pain, but only a just sadness, a due measure of melancholy, quiet and right.” Even when they’re quite bizarre relationships, the relationships in these books are very mature and well-thought-out from a narrative point of view, and this is a wonderful example.

Just a really, really lovely book:

No wonder he was laughing. He wasn’t mourning a death. He was celebrating an escape.

“I’m not dead. I’m here.” He touched his scarred chest in wonder.

[...]

Harra Csurik had been almost right. It wasn’t your life again you found, going on. It was your life anew.

Aaaand on to Komarr! God! I love this book! The most Miles possible meet-cute for his future wife: board at the home of her family on an investigation, have combat flashbacks on a shopping trip with her, and wind up watching her husband die horrifically while chained to a rail on a planet with a toxic atmosphere, knowing if he reacts too strongly he’s likely to have a seizure that’ll dislodge his own breathing mask, killing him in the same terrible way. You know. Rom-com stuff.

Speaking of relationships portrayed well, Ekaterin and Tien’s disaster of a marriage is extremely chilling in its realism. Even as you absolutely detest Tien, you can see how Ekaterin got yanked into that orbit, and it’s all all all so tied in with the very same aspects of Barrayaran culture that we’ve seen Miles face: Tien destroys everything because of his perception of what the response would be to his illness (where Miles, for better or worse, never had the option of hiding it), and because of his shitty insecurities about Ekaterin’s fidelity (echoes of a young Aral come to mind). We’re given explanations (his brother’s literally impossible-to-live-up-to example) but are never expected to see them as excuses, which is a very fine line to walk. The end result is a believably fucked-up relationship that draws on parallels with every single time you’ve ever thought to yourself about a friend, “Oh god sweetie you can do so much better than him”.

And Ekaterin’s thoughts about being bound to this marriage are right along the lines of the most stick-in-the-mud traditional Barrayaran loyalties we’ve seen Miles exhibit, all tangled up in language about honor. And even though it very shortly (and mortally) becomes a moot point, I love that she gets the chance to decide to leave Tien in spite of that. 

I also love the scene between Tien and Miles, talking about Nikki’s jumpship obsession, partly because of the obvious contrast between the two of them, but mostly because it illustrates how much of Tien’s awfulness is because he’s just... fundamentally a bitter coward with no imagination.

"Well, every boy goes through that phase, I suppose. We all outgrow it. Pick up all that mess, Nikki.”

Nikki’s eyes were downcast, but narrowed in brief resentment at this, Miles could see from his angle of view. The boy bent to scoop up the last of his miniature fleet.

“Some people grow into their dreams, instead of out of them,” Miles murmured.

“That depends on whether your dreams are reasonable,” said Vorsoisson, his lips twitching in rather bleak amusement. Ah, yes. Vorsoisson must be fully aware of the secret medical bar between Nikki and his ambition.

“No, it doesn’t.” Miles smiled slightly. “It depends on how hard you grow.”

The alternating POVs between Miles and Ekaterin are charming because we get to see Miles from an external (non-hostile) point of view and get all excited about each small revelation, and then we get to see Ekaterin both from Miles’s point of view and from the point of view of her own very active inner monologue, giving us insights we would otherwise have missed since she, as Miles says in the understatement of the century, has a tendency to underreact.

Their relationship is built up very carefully: there’s an obvious mutual interest practically from the first, but they both have reason to be cautious. There are those moments of genuine rapport early on, and then the shopping trip! It’s such a clever revelation, and so layered!

Miles was traumatized at Dagoola IV by watching Beatrice fall from the shuttle in front of him: he reached out to try to catch her, and just missed, and she died. And then we have this perfectly safe little parallel, with himself and Ekaterin falling off a water feature in a shopping district, and he manages to catch her, this time... and they both go over. It’s cute and oddly triumphant...

...and then he realizes exactly what it means. If he’d caught Beatrice, he’d have gone over with her. They’d both be dead, and that revelation hits right after he’s had a whole book to figure out just how badly he wants to live. And to Ekaterin, it’s a very quick summary of what and who Miles is: he’s the man who would not let go. BUT Ekaterin ALSO frames her leaving Tien in that context: she’s not just watching him fall, but purposefully releasing her hands. It’s so twisted and so complicated and such a weird little microcosm of their respective states of mind. And while part of it is Ekaterin giving Miles the little push he needed to properly process that trauma, fundamentally and on a larger timescale it places Miles as the “I’ve been in this hole before and I know the way out” path to Ekaterin’s healing. It’s so well done.

There’s also a hell of a parallel in the physical aspect of Miles’s seizures coming on unexpectedly in moments of great stress versus the psychological aspect of Ekaterin’s whole coping mechanism being built on trying desperately not to flinch or show strong emotion.

(And I don’t know where else to put this but special shout-out to the running gag of Vorkosigan House getting gradually overrun with cats, to the point where Miles starts, apropos of nothing and on a totally different planet, asking strangers if they’d like a kitten.)

These kids! Will they make it work? I may be only halfway through the book, but I have a funny feeling things might work out...

Also, here’s the “rescue” scene in full, because it delights me so:

The root-compacted soil of the edge sagged under her weight, and she began to slide precipitously forward. She yelped; pushing backward fragmented her support totally. One wildly back-grappling arm was caught suddenly in a viselike grip, but the rest of her body turned as the soil gave way beneath her, and she found herself dangling absurdly feet-down over the pond. Her other arm, swinging around, was caught, too, and she looked up into Vorkosigan’s face above her. He was lying prone on the slope, one hand locked around each of her wrists. His teeth were clenched and grinning, his gray eyes alight.

“Let go, you idiot!” she cried.

The look on his face was weirdly, wildly exultant. “Never,” he gasped, “again--”

His half-boots were locked around... nothing, she realized, as he began to slide inexorably over the edge after her. But his death-grip never slackened. The exalted look on his face melted to sudden horrified realization. The laws of physics took precedence over heroic intent for the next couple of seconds; dirt, pebbles, vegetation, and two Barrayaran bodies all hit the chilly water more or less simultaneously.

The water, it turned out, was a bit over a meter deep. The bottom was soft with muck. She wallowed upright onto her feet, one shoe gone who knew where, sputtering and dragging her hair from her eyes and looking around frantically for Vorkosigan. Lord Vorkosigan. The water came to her waist, it ought not to be over his head---no half-booted feet were sticking up like waving stumps anywhere---could he swim?

He popped up beside her, and blew muddy water out of his mouth, and dashed it from his eyes to clear his vision. His beautiful suit was sodden, and a water-plant dangled over one ear. He clawed it away, and located her, his hand going toward her and then stopping.

“Oh,” said Ekaterin faintly. “Drat.”

There was a meditative pause before Lord Vorkosigan spoke. “Madame Vorsoisson,” he said mildly at last, “has it ever occurred to you that you may be just a touch oversocialized?”

LA Devotee - Part XII

Warnings: smoking, cussing, some mentions of anxiety, insecurity

Word Count: 4.2k

Summary: Emily has agreed to move in with Calum, although she doesn’t necessarily regret that decision, she does come to a horrible realization on just how small her life actually is.

A/N: I’m SORRY this took so long!! I have most of this story written and when I go back to reread and edit, I end up hating my writing. So, I ended up rewriting pretty much this entire part. The next part I promise will come sooner than this one came! Happy reading!! Feedback and requests are always welcomed!!! (Want to be tagged? Let me know!)

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI

Masterlist

           The weekend came, and my mind had absolutely reeling since I agreed to move in with Calum. Not that I didn’t want to, but what in the actual fuck was I doing moving in with a guy I met nearly a month ago? Calum agreed to meet me at my apartment so he could help me start packing. The boys were supposed to follow behind him, and I invited Mikayla and Trevor to come over and help as well. More people means the faster it gets done. I sat on the stoop of my apartment complex with a cigarette between my fingers. The last cigarette I had was three years ago, right after Nathan and I got into an extremely verbally violent fight. I hated smoking, but sometimes the nicotine just felt so good. I leaned my head back, closing my eyes and blew the smoke from my lungs. “I didn’t know you smoked.” Calum said.

           My left eye opened and looked at Calum. His hands were in his pockets and his sunglasses were placed perfectly on his nose. I opened my other as he sat next to me and I looked at the cigarette. “I don’t usually, just been on edge today.” I offered him the cigarette, remembering he had been smoking the night we met.

           He took the cigarette from my fingers and looked at it before delicately wrapping his lips around the butt. “Haven’t smoked since the night we met.” The smoke released from his lungs and I looked over at him. He handed the cigarette back to me and I took a drag as he dropped his head, “Why have you been on edge? Everything okay?”

           I finished off the cigarette and extinguished it before dropping it in the cigarette can the apartment complex had set up right outside the door. “Yeah, everything is fine.” I squinted my eyes and looked out towards the street. “Can you promise me something?” I choked out dropping my eyes to my hands which were physically trembling. Calum’s eyes stared a whole in the side of my head through his sunglasses. My fingers balled into a fist and then flexed as my mind fought to get the words out. “Can you promise me that you’re in this for the long run, that this isn’t some type of PR stunt, that you’re with me because you genuinely like me.”

           “Emily, I thought we’ve gone over this—” he tried to speak but I quickly cut him off.

           “The public loves a good sob story. I’m a great sob story, I came from nothing, I have virtually nothing. If people found out about my personal life, they’d be all over you and the career. I don’t want us to destroy your career, and as selfish as it sounds, I don’t want your career to destroy us.” I continued to stare at my hands, not wanting to see his expression.

           He dropped his own eyes to his hands and shook his head. “We’re not a PR stunt, I can promise you that. I can also promise you that I am with you because of you, I’ve told you that. I can promise that being with you is not going to destroy my career, I wish I could promise you that my career won’t destroy us.” I finally looked at him through squinted eyes, and he looked at me, his face expressionless, “My career is what destroyed a good majority of my past relationships. However, I do believe you and I can be strong enough to not let my career come between us. Is this what’s been bothering you today?”

           Just as I nodded, Ashton, Luke and Michael came rounding the corner. Ashton holding some beer, Luke and Michael holding a large amount of boxes. “We’re here for the moving party!” Ashton exclaimed while lifting the beer above his head.

           I smiled and stood up, wiping the dirt off my pants. “Go ahead and head inside, Mikayla said she’d be here in just a couple of minutes.” I handed Calum the key to my apartment. Ashton, Luke and Michael walked past us into the building and I grabbed Calum’s hand before he walked away. He looked at me, not even his normal smile sitting on his lips. “I don’t mean to be self-conscious. I’ve just been through too much shit in my life to make this, us, feel real. I do want to move in with you and I do want to not let your career get in between us.” The right side of his lips pulled up into a soft smile and he dropped my hand and caressed my cheek. My eyes closed and I leaned into his touch. His lips pressed against mine for a sweet second before he ran his hand down my arm and followed the boys inside.

           After Calum walked inside, I sat back on the stairs and waited for Mikayla. When Mikayla showed up, the look on my face gave away everything that I was thinking. She sent Trevor ahead of her and sat next to me. Once Trevor was out of ear shot, I spat out, “Do you think I’m doing the right thing?”

           “Yes.” She didn’t even hesitate, she barely had a second to blink before she responded. My eyebrows stitched together as I looked at her. “Look, you and Calum really care about each other. Maybe you even love each other, I don’t know. It’s time for you to put on your big girl panties and move the fuck on from your past. Calum’s good for you, even if you don’t think he is.” She laced her arm with mine and laid her head on my shoulder. “Plus, we’ll still have sleepovers, especially since your new place is a hundred times bigger than this dump. Also why do you smell like an ash tray?”

           I pulled my eyebrows together in fake offense, “Hey, I like this dump.” I laughed before I could get the whole sentence out. “You’re right, it’s a dump, and I definitely hate it here. Also, I used to smoke, and I’ve been really anxious today, so I bummed a cigarette off my neighbor.” Mikayla shot me a look and I held up my hands, “Last cigarette ever, I promise.” Mikayla smiled before letting out a laugh. She then stood up and offered me a hand to lift me off the ground. We walked in together, arms laced together.

           When we walked in, the guys had already gotten most of my living room and kitchen pulled apart. It tugged at my chest a little that in that little amount of time, half of my apartment as already been pulled apart. Calum was pulling books off my shelf and I walked over to him. He smiled at me and I wasted no time to wrap my arms around his waist and press my head to his chest. He placed his hand on the back of my head and bent his neck to place a kiss on the top of my head. “I’m sorry.” I mumbled, my cheek still pressed to his chest.

           “For what, sunshine?” His fingers scraped across my scalp as his finger ran though my hair, his other arm squeezing me just slightly.

           “For being so stupid.” I wanted to apologize for being a piece of shit, but saying that I was stupid sounded a little nicer.

           He chuckled, causing his chest to vibrate under my face. “You’re not stupid, it’s okay to feel the way you feel. Everything’s fine, sunshine, don’t worry about it.” He placed my chin between his thumb and index finger and tilted my face up to his. His lips pressed to mine and I melted into his kiss. Every time I kissed him, it was there were tiny little fireworks going off in my stomach. It was like I would never be able to get enough of the feeling of his lips against mine. He inhaled slightly as he pressed harder into the kiss and I thought about what Mikayla said about us. She had suggested we loved each other, and feeling my lips tingle against his, I think that maybe her suggestion was right. Remembering we had people in my apartment, I break the kiss and pull my bottom lip in to continue to taste his lips on mine. Calum’s eyes had darkened, and he stared into my eyes in a way that my body heat up, “I’m going to go pack up my room now.” I said, running a single finger under my bottom lip. Calum nodded and I practically ran into my bedroom, closing the door behind me.

           It took almost no time to pack up my entire apartment, and I could not decide if that felt good, or incredibly horrible. Ashton and Luke took everything I didn’t need to the donation center, which was the largest load. Trevor and Mikayla had their car packed with boxes, and so did Calum, Michael, and I. After the cars were packed up, I stood in the middle of my empty apartment and looked at my fingers. My whole life, what was left of it, took seven people a few hours to pack. A new weight suddenly found itself on my shoulders; was my life really that pathetic? After one more visual scan of the room, I turned on my heels and left behind the place that I called home for the past four months.

           Calum was waiting outside the leasing office for me, leaning against the wall and his hands in his pockets. As I walked toward him, I unwound my key from the key ring and gripped it tightly in my fist. Calum pushed himself off the wall as I walked past him into the office. The woman behind the desk smiled and held out her hand asking for the key. I tapped the key with my fingers a few times before finally handing it over. After paying the ridiculous fee for breaking my lease early, which Calum had offered to pay, but after I shot him a look, he backed down, we left. As we walked away from the building, I reached over and grabbed Calum’s hand. This was a new start, and I was not going to look back.

           Trevor and Mikayla followed the line of cars to Calum’s house, Calum in the front, then Michael, then me. It was finally dark out and I was becoming increasingly more exhausted as we got closer to Calum’s house. While driving, I held in the want to cry. My thoughts swimming back to how sad it was that my entire life took only a couple of hours to pack up and discard. It was like I had nothing to show for. I’ve been on this earth for over twenty years, and everything I own is packed up into thirty boxes, if that. The anger boiled through my veins and my knuckles turned white from the grip I had on my steering wheel.

           Just as the emotions were about to boil over, we all pulled into Calum’s driveway. Before getting out of my car, I took a long deep breath and shook my hands out. Michael, Trevor and Mikayla had starting taking boxes inside, but Calum stopped and looked at me. Something on my face must’ve given away that I was about to cry or scream because Calum grabbed my right hand then pressed his other hand to my cheek, “Are you okay, sunshine?” Without looking at Calum’s face, I nodded. He knew I was lying, “Tell me the truth.”

           A sigh caused my shoulders to fall, “I’m a little overwhelmed. It took zero time to pack up and move my entire life. I knew I lost everything, but I didn’t realize how much I actually lost, and how little I have left.” I looked down at my feet and swallowed down the anger. My hands started to tremble and I balled my fingers into fists, squeezing Calum’s hand, “I don’t even have anything to show for myself.” I shifted my feet and looked to my left to watch Mikayla walk through the front door with a box in her arms.

           “Sunshine, you have plenty of things to show for yourself.” He put his finger on the side of my chin, turning my head so that I had to look at him. “You have an amazing job, you have an amazing best friend, you have probably the best wardrobe I’ve ever seen,” That made me smile, I loved my wardrobe too, “And you’ve got me, don’t you?” A shit-eating grin stretched across his face, “I mean, not to toot my own horn, but I’m pretty great.”

           I couldn’t help but laugh. He dropped his hand from my chin and I reached towards his chest to play with the fabric of his shirt. As I eyed the material I shook my head, “No matter how long we’re together, I don’t think I will ever understand how I got you.” My eyes met with his, he smiled and a twinkle in his eyes lit up the brown ring around his pupils. I wanted so badly to tell him I loved him, but what if he didn’t feel the same way? Instead, I swallowed and shook my head again. He took that as a sign to press his lips against mine, a needy kiss that made my entire stomach light on fire. I pushed against him slightly, pushing his lips off mine, but keeping them close enough that they grazed over mine as I spoke, “Our friends are still here.”

           Calum looked at our friends coming out of his house, “I supposed that means should wait, huh?” He looked back at me, the smirk on his lips quickly fading and concern washed over his eyes. “Are you going to be okay?” His right hand reached towards my cheek and gently caressed my face. I nodded before splitting away from him and helping our friends carry the rest of the boxes into the house. As soon as the last box was dropped, Mikayla and Trevor bid their goodnight and headed out. Calum offered Michael and beer, which he excitedly accepted after the long day. “Do you want a drink too, love?” My eyes were glued to the small amount of boxes that were stacked just inside of Calum’s front door.

           Calum grabbed my fingers and it took everything in me to pry my eyes away from the boxes and look at him. I blinked away the glaze in my eyes and shook my head, “No,” A smile stretched across my lips, I tried to not make it look fake, but I could tell he knew it was. “No, I think I am going to go to bed. It’s been a long day.” He nodded, pulling me into his chest to kiss me one last time. After he told me he’d come to bed right after Michael left, I headed down the hallway to our, now, shared bedroom.

           The door clicked shut, and I turned and looked around the room. Duke was laying on the bed, his tail wagging. I smiled at him and reached down to place a gentle scratch to the top of his head. Even though I was familiar with it now, it was different knowing that my things were going to have their own space. His and mine was going to turn into ours. He’s lived such a fulfilling life thus far, and I’ve just lived. My eyes shut and I sat on the end of the bed, tears finally falling, not out of sadness, but out of anger. Anger that I felt completely and utterly about myself. The only thing I could think of making me feel better was going to bed. I kicked off my shoes and stripped down to my underwear, not having the energy to find anything to sleep in. After I crawled under the covers, Duke took his spot next to me in a ball. The warmth of the blankets took over and I gave into the desire to sleep.

           I woke up when Calum finally made his way to bed. As the door shut, I wiped my face, not realizing I had cried in my sleep. He was taking his shoes off when I pushed myself up into a sitting position. When he saw me sitting up, his face softened, “Hey, sunshine, I didn’t mean to wake you up. Go back to sleep, I’ll be right back.” He ran the pads of his fingers across my jaw line as he walked into the bathroom. The sound of the faucet running allowed my body to relax and I laid back down, my back facing Calum’s side of the bed. My eyes closed, but I listened for Calum’s movements. When he finally laid in bed, I turned and pulled myself into his side, placing my head against his chest. He kissed my forehead and wrapped his arms around me, “Goodnight, sunshine.”

           When my eyes fluttered open, I immediately grabbed my phone to look at the time. It was only six in the morning, but I was wide awake. My phone made a slapping noise as I dropped it back onto the side table and cursed under my breath. As great as it was to have a finely tuned body clock, it was absolutely horrible when you have every intention of sleeping in. Calum was still fast asleep, but Duke lifted his head and wagged his tail furiously seeing that I was awake. I carefully climbed out of bed, trying my hardest to not wake Calum up. The only time he stirred was when Duke jumped off the bed. Before leaving the room, I grabbed my phone off the table and pulled on a pair of Calum’s sweat pants and one of his t-shirts. As Duke and I walked out, I shut the door as quietly as possible, the only noise being Duke’s little claws on the wood floor.

           Duke ran ahead of me, towards the back door, I hesitated when my eyes landed on the boxes that we had stacked up the night before. My insecurities knocking in the back of my head wondering if should just throw everything but my clothes away. I held my breath as I turn to look behind me, towards the bedroom and try to shake the thoughts out of my head. Duke whimpers slightly, pulling me out of my thoughts and I keep walking through the house. As I open the back door, he does a little dance and goes running towards the patch of grass in the corner of the backyard. Feeling the cool morning air, I step outside and listen to the birds while keeping a side eye on Duke to wait for him to finish his morning duties. As soon as he comes running back to me, I turn and we both head back inside.

           My mind continues to race as I prepared a pot of coffee. To keep my thoughts quiet, I reach down and pick up the little black and white dog at my feet. He licks my face and I laugh, giving him a chin scratch back. The coffee maker gurgles signaling the end of the cycle. I lean down to put Duke back on the ground and pour myself a cup. I took a sip of the coffee after putting my normal amount of cream and sugar in it and looked towards the backyard again.

           A thought pops in my head and I grab my coffee and head through the backdoor. Duke follows me and I watch him run around like the happy little dog he is. I find a shaded corner to sit in and place my coffee cup on the table before taking a seat. My fingers absent mindedly tap at my phone, thinking about the person I want to talk to the most. My finger slides up on the screen, unlocking it, then tap my mom’s contact. When she answered I told her about everything that has happened since the last time we talked. Some of it was a lie, some of it was the truth, but the only time I lied was so that she didn’t think I had absolutely lost my mind. Which, I was pretty certain I had, but she didn’t need to know that.

           We talked for a while, until I decided to go back inside and wait for Calum to wake up. The house was quiet as I scrolled through my phone while sitting on the barstool in his kitchen. I stared into the void and tapped the edge of my coffee mug. The sound of the bedroom door opening pulled me out of my thoughts. Soon enough, a sleepy Calum was coming into the kitchen. He was rubbing his eye and yawning, all he was wearing was a pair of light grey sweat pants that were hanging low enough to make my stomach do a back flip. I swallowed and forced a smile so I would stop staring at him. “Good morning, sunshine. Why are you awake so early?” He asked, his voice raspy, still fighting the sleep.

           As I thought of how I wanted to answer him, he closed the space between us and planted a kiss on my forehead before turning towards the coffee maker and pouring a cup of coffee for himself. “This really stupid thing happens in your mind as you get older, and it makes it so that you can never sleep past a certain time.” Calum chuckled as the coffee poured into his cup, a plume of steam escaping out of the top of the mug. “My body is so used to getting up at the same time every day that I can’t sleep in. It’s really annoying.” I took a drink of my coffee and Calum chuckled again.

           He opened the fridge and pulled the milk out, “How long have you been awake?” I stared at his back muscles while he poured the milk into his coffee and stirred it with the spoon I had left out. He turned to me and raised his eyebrows waiting for my answer.

           My voice got caught in my throat, “Oh, uh, a little over an hour. I talked to my mom, I hadn’t talked to her in a while.” Calum took a drink of his coffee and raised his eyebrows. “I told her about you, she seemed pretty excited that I was finally climbing out of my rut.” I put the lip of my coffee mug to my lips and raised my eyebrows, “Those were her exact words.” Calum smiled and I took a sip from my coffee.

           Calum chuckled then rounded the corner stopping at my side long enough to place another kiss on the side of my head. “I’m going to go sit outside if you’d like to join me.” My eyes watched him as he walked out the back door, Duke following close behind him. Just as the door closed, I turned and hopped off the barstool to follow the same path.

           The warm breeze blew across my face as I made my way towards where he was sitting. The thought of sitting in his lap crossed my mind, but I took my seat in the chair next to him. He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, the sun glowing against his tanned skin. Every sense in my body telling me to get on him, but I swallowed the thoughts and looked away from him. “Do you want to unpack now, or do you want to wait?” He asked, his eyes still closed.

           My eye focused back on him, his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. Maybe it would be the right idea to unpack quickly and just get it over with, but as I stared at him, the lust inside my body grew. His chest slowly rising and falling with every breath he took, the sun dancing across his skin causing it to almost glisten. I could no longer help myself, I set my coffee mug down on the little table in front of me and slowly made my way over to straddle his lap. My hands gently resting on either side of his face, I pull him towards me and kiss him passionately. He pressed his lips harder against mine and his hands ran up my thighs and up and under my t-shirt until they were firmly placed on my back. His hands started to trail further up my back and I pulled my lips off his. He opened his eyes and let his hands rest where they were. “Can we wait, there’s something else I’d rather do?” A smirk pulled at the side of his mouth before he nodded and crashed his lips back onto mine. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

My Brother’s Keeper - Chapter IX

Genre: Psychological Thriller

Modern Ivar X Modern Hvitserk

Rating: MA 

Overall Warning:  Dark story told from an emotionally distributed person’s POV with graphic and sadistic material including rape, terror, torture, kidnapping, drug use, slash, implied incest, necrophilia, and insecurity. Heavy trigger warnings.  

Chapter Warning: Drug use, talk of spiraling out of control

Summary: Mama always said to be their brothers’ keeper. Now there is absolutely nothing these two won’t do for each other.  Boys will be boys…

Chapter IX

Why the fuck am I watching the news?  This is what flipping through channels gets me.  I should have never stopped when I saw this bitch’s face.  I fucking hate her. 

Now, I either want to put my fist through the TV or pull my damn hair out.

Fuck, I hate this bitch! She’s no different from the rest of these news assholes. Always trying to dig up some shit that should be left alone. Putting all of our personal business on blast like that...pieces of shit. And this whore is the worst of them.  She's purposely trying to make Ivar and I look bad. 

"Police are trying to find a common thread between these murders. The victims have all been found in remote areas throughout the county.  The coroner reports each victim showed signs of sexual trauma and or torture, pre- or post-mortem. While police have no suspects, in these killings, they do believe they are all connected and have been committed by the same perpetrator.  Witnesses to the last two victims’ disappearances have described seeing a Caucasian male, between the ages of 18-35, approximately 5’8” – 6’2”, medium build, with medium to dark hair, leaving with the victims. If you have any information about these victims or the suspect, please call Detective Torstein, Homicide." The white numbers for the police station flash on the screen under this bitch’s face.  

“You fucking cunt!” I don’t know what just fell to the floor as I kicked the coffee table in front of the couch.  She has no right to show fucking pictures and the names of our past guests.  But, I’ll be damned, if they are there.  All the ones from this month: Halfdan, Porunn, Astrid, and Erlendur.  None of them looked like that when we met them.  Then, they were all slutted up and ready to please.  But looking at these pictures, they look like they’re a part of a fucking church choir.  

You bitch!

But, fuck you news-lady, you forgot one. You forgot about that girl we met at the concert. I almost did. At least, I can keep one of those special nights sacred without you fucking it all up and turning it into some freak show for these news groupies to salivate over.  

Shit, I just wish I could remember that whole night. 

I can only remember meeting her and bringing her back to the cabin.  I remember she was a great lay, and that looked fucking amazing. But that’s it.  Every time I try to remember what we did, or how many times we did it or anything else, there’s like a blank spot.  I don’t know if Ivar got to try anything new with her, or what.  

Ivar said I blacked out, again.  Did she pass out before or after he got to her?   Did she try to escape?  Did he punish her long and hard for that?  Did she cooperate and he let her go?  Is that why she wasn’t on this little photo lineup? What the fuck I am saying? He wouldn’t’ve done that shit.  They just haven't found her body, yet. 

That bitch reporter is smiling again. She's enjoying all the fucking lies and the smear campaign that she’s creating against us. "Stay tuned for more information on these murders as they become available. Judith Wessex, reporting, Action 10 News."

"Lying bitch!" Just the look on her face and the sound of her voice is driving me crazy. She doesn't know us. She has no right to say those kinds of things about us. Nobody tortured or brutalized anybody. It was all in fun. They were into it.  

Ivar takes the remote from my hand and tucks it into his palm, "You don't need to watch this." He's been extra protective since I woke up in his bed. I can't do anything. He must have really been scared after this last blackout because he won't let anything upset me. Changing the channel, he settles on something non-threatening; Property Brothers. He knows I love that show. "There. That's better."

"I'm fine, Ivar,” I lie, “that bitch on the news just got under my skin.”  I reach over to pick up the ashtray – when did I start smoking so much?  I’m already on my second pack today and I’ve only been awake since noon.  

"I know you are. But you get bothered so easily. I just want you to take it easy." His smooth voice caresses my ears and instantly gives me goosebumps on my arms. But he knows the damage is already done. Standing behind me, he holds his arms out on either side of my head, with his fists out in front of me.  “Left or right?  Pick one.”

I have no idea what’s in his hands, but since we’re both right-handed, I nod toward his right hand.  He tilts my head back so I’m looking up at him.  “Open up.”  I obediently do as I’m told and feel three pills of varying size hit my tongue. 

He quickly places a kiss on my forehead as I sit up to swallow the pills dry. Turning in my seat, I watch as he drops the pills from his left hand into his mouth.  He holds his tongue out for me to see his four pills before his tongue darts back into his mouth.

“What was that?” I try to swallow hard enough to make the pills slide down my throat.  Hopefully, it’s something that’ll make me stop wanting to throw this fucking television out of the window.  

Ivar shrugs and smiles, “Fuck if I know.  I found them in my coat pocket.  Guess we’ll find out shortly.”  He picks up the dishtowel that he had sat down on the back of the couch and slings it over his shoulder, "Anyway, Serk, that shit that reporter said wasn't true. She's just trying to fuck with us. Trying to make us slip up." He starts to walk out of the room but stops and turns around with a huge smile.  "Maybe we should party with her." His smile immediately fades when he sees how upset she's made me. "Awe, brother… don't worry about that bitch. I'll kill her if you want."

"They know what we look like, Ives."

"How many white guys are there in the world, Serk? They can’t even agree on my goddamn hair color.” He leans against the wall and folds his arms across his chest. “I took care of everything. No one knows. No one will ever find out." There is such honesty and power in his voice that I can’t help but trust that he believes this.  I know he wouldn’t chance anything getting in the way of the life that we've built together.

But, there’s still that part of me that fears that our world is about to come crashing down around us. What would I do if I didn’t have this outlet or God forbid they took Ivar away from me? 

"I can't handle this shit anymore. Fucking bitch reporters are lying on us. Stupid fucking cops are trying to dig shit up and sticking their pig noses where they don't belong." Everything as of late is running through my mind. This use to be so much fun, but now everyone else is fucking it up. "Something wrong with me. My blackouts are getting worse.  We went out and I can't remember it. I can't remember jack shit from the past week! Who the fuck blacks out for a whole week?  How long can I go on like this before something really fucked up happens?" 

It feels like my throat is closing and I’m starting to sweat.  My heart rate is speeding up and I think I’m about to die.  I can’t breathe.  Jesus, why does Ivar put up with me when I'm like this? "I'm fucking up at work. Fucking Ub is gonna come here and start asking questions. Thora’s gonna fucking leave me.  You're gonna get tired of taking care of me! Shit's just all fucked up." I sit forward with my arms on my thighs and try to catch my breath.  I try so hard not to give into the fear, but fuck if I'm not feeling it leak out of my pores. 

This is why I need Ivar.  Thora could never handle me like this. I can't even handle me when I get like this. "I don't know how much more I can take, Ivy. I can't do this shit, no more! I can't."  All the air I’m trying to gulp in isn’t helping at the moment.

Standing before me with a concerned look on his face, he shifts his weight from one leg to the other. "Hvitserk Ragnarsson." And there it is - that voice that I fucking hate.  That voice Father used to keep us in line.  Ivar rarely uses that voice, but when he does it immediately gets my attention.  I look at him obediently as he sits on the edge of the couch next to me and studies my face.

The amount of emotion in me is overwhelming and before his hand even reaches up to touch my hair, my throat starts to ache, my head hurts and my eyes are stinging. Shit. 

Ivar's arms around me remind me just how much I need him and how important he is to me. "I'm sorry." I lean my head back on the pillow and let the tears run down my face. I’m so embarrassed and tired of always losing my shit.  But true to form, his arms are around my neck and he presses his lips to my cheek and coos sweetly in my ear until I feel my fear dissipates.

With a smile on his face, he turns my head to his. "Better now?" His thumbs trace my tears as he holds my head in his hands. The look in his eyes tells me that everything is going to alright and I believe him. A simple nod of my head convinces him that the worst is over and with that, he places the gentlest kiss on the tip of my nose. I don't how he does it, but he always makes it better. "Come on," he takes my hand to pull me off the couch with him, "I baked cookies."

Now I just feel silly. I had another meltdown and truthfully I can't remember why especially when I see the plate of fresh-baked cookies that he has laid out on the kitchen table. Whatever was wrong with me just moments before seems trivial. It's amazing how he just always seems to know what to do to make everything better.

Ivar's back is to me as he looks out of the kitchen window, but judging by the way his neck is arched, he's taken an interest in something. "We have new neighbors." His voice is distant, almost like he's speaking without thinking.  He can’t tear his eyes away from whatever is outside, but his head turns the slightest bit to face me.  

I’ve never seen him entranced this before. Ivar never fixates. These neighbors must be amazing.

I stuff a chocolate chip cookie into my mouth and pick up another one on my way to the window. He's right. A new young couple is moving in right next door and the woman is exceptionally beautiful. Her eyes are big and bright, her face is like silk and she has this refreshingly innocent look about her. It's enough to remind me that I haven't called Thora since the last night she was here.

Then there's the guy with her. There's something in the proud way he stands... the way his muscles protrude from the sleeves of his t-shirt, and the powerful way in which he slips his arms around her and lifts her off the ground…It makes my top lip sweat and a tingle start at the base of my skull. 

I can't move. I can only stand here and chew my cookie as I watch these beautiful creatures in front of me. “They are perfect,” My voice comes out like a dream.  I don’t even recognize the sound of it. 

As soon as I look over at him and see that gleam in his eye, I know that he already knows. They are perfect.

He lifts my hand to his mouth and takes a bite of the cookie I'm holding. "Yes. They. Are." Chewing, he nods his head and smiles. "We should welcome them to the neighborhood." He always says that the only way to get over the last one is to take a new one. The more I think about it, the more sense it makes.

Something happened with the last girl. Something bad enough to make me forget the most important things. I wish I could remember that night because I want to know that I showed her a good time, but I don't want to remember why I lost control. It's no use worrying about it now. I can't dwell on old memories. I can only look forward to making new ones. New memories with my new neighbors.

No matter what I've done before or how I feel about it now, the only thing I can concentrate on at this very moment is the dull gnawing in my gut. I need something to keep my mind off of all of this shit. 

I need this. I need them. I may always be fighting with the half a conscience I have, but the growling inside of me is usually much louder than it.

The beast inside of me is awake again. And it's so damn hungry.

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ok i need to rant for a bit (read at your own risk)

also tw for body image issues

for a bit of background, i do ballet, and im pretty damn serious about it. as in its the centre of my life and i plan to make a career of it.

well my mom is rly supportive about this, but sometimes she gets to be a bit too much. as in extremely insensitive about how her « helping me » makes me feel. the subject of obsession tends to be something important, or some milestone, such as a performance, competition, or audition. in this case it’s two audition videos: one for a prestigious international competition (which could change my life if i got in), and the other video is an audition video for my dream school (and again, life changing if i get in).

These two videos are EXTREMELY important, and we wanted everything to be as perfect as possible, but the focus on perfectionism is where the problem lies. i’ve gotten better about not dragging myself down over every single detail, but my mom on the hand has not. she doesn’t obsess over my dancing (i do that enough already) but over details like lighting, camera angle, the line my leotard makes, my shoe color, my bun angle, the amount of makeup, the video quality, etc. she has a really good eye for those sort of things since she used to be an artist (and majored in fine art), and if she was the one filming my videos there would be no problem there.

But evidently there is a problem (which is why i’m writing this all out cause istg if i don’t i WILL lose it). Actually there’s two, one per video, though the second problem has nothing much to do with everything mentioned before.

The first issue is something that’s been haunting me for two weeks, and not in the good halloween haunting way. The video for the competition was filmed over the course of a few weeks by one of my teachers, and she and my mom have an *interesting* relationship. as in ive learned to brush off my mom cussing her out in car rides or at home (which happened today twice lol). My teacher wouldn’t allow my mom to be in the studio to help with lighting, camera angle, etc., saying that the studio wouldn’t allow more than two people in at a time (a lie, cause when we went with my contemporary teacher for one section of the video my mom was able to go in and film that portion). My teacher is a really well intention person by the way, but since my mom is so similar to how her mom was, being in her prescence triggers her which i think may be why she tried to make it so she wouldn’t have to interact with her as much.

So anyways my teacher and i worked on the audition video and we finally completed it, but the way she filmed it was not up to my moms standards. so we filmed it again. and right now it’s STILL not up to my mom’s standards, but at this point there’s literally nothing we can do. the deadline is in a few days and there’s no way we can refilm it then. in terms of my dancing, i feel pretty satisfied, though it’s not perfect, but i feel ok sending it in. but for thé past few weeks i’ve been constantly hearing how the video isn’t good enough, and how it doesn’t present me well enough, and if my mom could just have filmed the barre and centre i would look so much better. and that if i really want to catch the judges eyes then the video quality would need to be better. and i argue back at that point, saying my dancing should be enough to do that, and that i’m not auditoning for a film school but for a DANCE competition. and i know my mom has a point. we are drawn to things well presented, even if the content may not be the best. but after hearing that my video is not up to par for WEEKS it hurts a lot. and if i ask her to stop focusing so much on that because at this point all that is doing is making us feel unsatisfied with something unchangable, i’m ignored and she goes on saying i don’t understand her point. I’m also told that she’s saying all this because she cares so much and wants me to succeed. and that is all true, but i don’t CARE that she’s saying all this because she wants to help me with my goal. there are so many more productive things to do than fixating on unchangable shit, and there’s a voice inside telling me that if she really cared about me, the real actual me and not the dancer side of me, she would take a moment to understand how much certain things she says hurts. no matter the intentions behind, no matter that she always adds that my dancing wasn’t the problem and that it was all my teachers fault (which also pokes me in a different way), i ALWAYS leave that conversation with an extremely tight knot in my chest and a bunch of self doubt. sometimes when the convo evolves into an argument, my mom tells me that it’s cause she’s stressed about this and the video and because she cares so much, but i’ve reached the point where i don’t give a fuck. i’m stressed too, and i care a TON. i sacrificed so fucking much for this (not to say she hasn’t like good lord i worry so much about her sometimes) but being stressed and caring about something does not excuse harping on about something someone has EXPLICITLY told you to please stop going on a bout and try to let go of. multiple times. which is why i really want to scream sometimes, and why i decided to just let it out here. (it’s worked by the way. as of right now the knot inside has loosened and the negative energy about this problem has almost dissolved, which why i’m now moving on to the second issue)

ISSUE NO. 2- thé audition video for my dream school. now this is a different direction than the other video problem because this video hasn’t been filmed yet. so i should start out with saying that as a by product of doing ballet, i have body image issues. it got worse over the course of the past year because i put on a few pounds. and i know that honestly, i shouldn’t worry too much, but doing an art form where your body is constantly critiques in so many ways kinda has a way of making you always wish it was better. now my mom knows about how i feel about my body, and in the past she has completely invalidated my feelings if i try to talk about it (because in her eyes i’m perfect yaddayaddayadda and i’m just manifesting these insecurities out of nowhere cause i have nothing to be worried about). the thing is tho (and i’m pretty thankful for this) is that she will tell me if i’ve gained weight, and she will help me if i want to lose some and stuff. so it’s like she has this weird mix of telling me to not worry about my weight cause i’m perfectly fine, but also telling me that i need to watch what i eat more and that i need to lose a little weight. and i hate it so much. recently i just stopped weighing myself every morning cause i realized i was literally basing how i felt the whole day off the number on the scale. and honestly i’m so much happier now cause i stopped. everything is the same except that one thing, and i have no intention to start obsessively weighing myself again.

And that brings me to issue two. because we were talking about the video for the school, and my mom said “you need to start weighing yourself every morning again”. well i saw every single color of the rainbow when she said that, and i was enraged. because my instinct was to be angry in order to protect one of my biggest insecurities, my body. the implications that came from telling me i needed to start weighing myself more HURT, and thinking about it right now is making me almost cry. and her saying that also pissed me off SO MUCH. because my mom KNOWS how i feel about my body, about my weight, and my eating habits. i have explicitly stated MANY time that i would prefer if she would not make those little comments about those subjects, and i have let her know how much it hurts me. i don’t think she understood that though, despite the amount of times i’ve completely shut down or started crying. but that one comment is hanging over my head right now, acting as a smoke cloud twisting around my heart and making me have some rlly self deprecating thoughts. and so tomorrow morning if she asks me what my weight is i don’t know what i’ll do. i’m considering just saying something above what ik she wants it to be, no matter what i may actually be, but i’ve also considered just tossing the scale in the rubbish bin. actually won’t do that though cause i would get in a ton of trouble lol. but a problem is that as a result of her comment, i’ve also begun considering starving myself, of making myself throw up, and other unhealthy ways to lose weight because right now, i feel like my body is too fat filled, too squishy for ballet. which is bullshit but the negative voice is drowning the positive one out now.

ok i have gotten all the rant energy out now, and no longer feel like punching a wall, cry screaming, cussing out the next person i see, or any assortment of high negative energy release techniques that would hurt others or myself. if you read this far, props to you cause i sure as hell would not have been able to make it thru that 😂.

also i should add that my mom and i are SUPER close and she honestly a great person in every aspect except certain dance related stuff. i really really appreciate everything she has done for me, all her sacrifices and all the effort she has put in to make sure i am where i am now. it’s just sometimes i feel like she forgets that i’m a person with feelings about topics, not just a dancer. thank you for coming to my tedtalk 😌

pardon me for using my blog for its intended purpose, but I’ve gota talk about my life insecurities and the pathetic reality of my ongoing existence

if ur prone to thinking badly of ppl for having social difficulties maybe dont read lol

if uv talked to me more than a few times then u kno already tbh i sound like a broken record but I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO MAKE FRIENDS im so fucking mad about it, why is this so hard for me???

people say that you have to go to clubs,  but honestly thats realy not enough advice for me because Findng People is not the issue, in fact i have been in several places where by all means i shuold have found someone to be friends with, but even if i do force myself to talk to people and be sociable and say uuh things and even if i do succeed in being funny and likeable (which is far from the norm and my self esteem takes a huge hit every time i exit a social situation having flopped & yes i am overly judgmental of myself but the fact that i dont got friends is proof that maybe there is some truth to it) , nothing ever comes of it!

and like i know this is a pattern with me, where ill try to do something consistently for a semester and then when i see no evidence of progress i give up. same thing happened when i decided to stick to a consistent exercise routine. i didnt feel any better, i didnt look any different, my health didnt improve, my body didnt even get any stronger my bodys limit on weight and time remained the same from beginning to end, all i felt was tired, sore, and depressed. i felt a little proud of myself for having stuck to it for that long (4-5 months? honetsly an accomplishment for me) but at the first excuse i could find i broke routine and was never able to get back on.

and honestly. same thing happened with that club. i went to almost every QTPOCA community meeting for one semester, but i just! couldnt! make!! friends!! a few people talked to me i think?? one girl named Cassie who i saw once and never again..augustine talked to me and i was really happy about that...they were very friendly and i like talking to them but i dont think our personalities mesh very well for us to be close, we also dont have any real shared interests and i dont think they particularly have fun in my company.

but other than those two people, thats it.... the meetings themselves are very different from what i expected, its absolutely not an environment conducive to my very uuh specific needs.

How did  i make friends before?? i had friends in high school. or at least i thought i did. i guess thats why im not still friends with most of them. i never really went out to movies or to their houses or to get lunch or even had most of their phone numbers, & even those whose # i do have i never really USED them. maybe its cuz i didnt get a phone until high school. maybe its cuz my parents are workaholics AND overprotective and made it too much of a hassle to ask permission to go everwhere. maybe people only rly liked me for school work purposes. maybe im just too obedient and never snuck out. maybe im just too close to my sister and never felt the need for social interaction outside of school because i had her. maybe im just making a whole lot of excuses for what ultimately is an inability to interact with other people. 

& its not like im not good at talking. im pretty quick and uuh quippy ig like i can say some off the wall shit, that just all goes out the window when im talking to strangers. idk. i can make phonecalls now, but only if i script out what im going to say in writing bcause even if i mentally script, by the time the other person picks up the phone my mind just goes blank.

i think its a part of my horrible personality maybe. like maybe i can only be in my element when i feel like i have power. my small high school & my ugly superiority complex made it easier for me to think of myself as better than p much all my peers maybe? but maybe its not that easy to do that in college since EVERYONE here got to college somehow (despite some of them actualy being dumb as fuck)? maybe?? idk if thats the case i gota change that personality quick cuz thats no way to live life. just the way im talking about it now makes it seem like maybe its not that but idk i think in actuality im a lot more egotistical than i come across as. which may or may not be saying something idk self awareness is hard.

probably also got something to do with the fact that i moved to texas away from the rest of my family & my parents work too much to make rfriends ot their own (and neither of my parents are very social people to begin with) so i never had adult social interactions modeled for me in a way that integrates friendships into ones life. thats probably just an excuse tho.

anyways. im really sick of not fitting in anywhere. im sick of not knowing anyone. im sick of being lonely all the time and feeling unlovable . and iv got like 2 friends on the internet that i rly talk to but we all know it aint the same & the MOMENT theyve busy i feel soooo fuckin lonelyyyyy

also FUCK another thing is that i am no ones priority, that shit SUCKS idk if im emotionally built for casual friendships cuz i care about all my friends so fucking much...i dont even gota be a best friend i just gota be ...important to someone lmfao maybe thast too much to ask fori know im just 21 but it rly feels like everyone already has their friends and thats that, and the worst part is that i could have made friends but i wasted all of college uuuh idk doing school or whatever LMFAO ok but other ppl can figure out how to have an active social life while doing decent in school why couldnt i do that...

whatever. if i die alone i die alone , nothin to be done about that. just gota put my best foot forward i guess. maybe learn to settle a little more. put more effort into things that arent worth it because id rather have something rancid than nothing at all.

Im very fascinated with your views on the "fat acceptance" movement. Ive seen you bring it up here and there over the years. Did you ever make a big post on it?

I’ve never like really made a post about it? I did at one point find a blog post from a heavier rider that dressagetoday or someone shared which I then added a critical commentary which is SOMEWHERE in my blog (where, who knows? what tags did I use, who knows? DID I EVEN USE TAGS???). Which I was at the time disappointed no one wanted to engage on. I can certainly share with you my thoughts though (which I will do below) and you can definitely hit me with the follow-up questions if anything isn’t clear or you want some elaboration or hell you want to start an internet fight:I’ll preface all of this with being perfectly candid about my own body, weight, and struggle both of those. I am currently overweight. I have lost about 25 pounds in the last few months and am on a trajectory to continue to lose weight until I reach something that is healthy, sustainable, and enables me to do all the stuff I want to do. I have been my “goal body” before, I have been a little heavy, and I have been fucking fat. Part of how I became “fucking fat” is related to my own deeply ingrained issues with my body and my weight (which I picked up from my mom!) leading to body dysmorphia— which as I explain to people: “I didn’t notice the weight gain because to me, I have always looked this heavy”. I also struggle with disordered eating, thankfully not a fully adopted eating disorder but still elements of restricting, binge eating, purging, and overall not at all having a healthy relationship with eating. I have been working on that! I have been doing a lot better too! So, blah blah in short on my own personal issues— I am fully and painfully aware of all the negatives that you face if you are even remotely “fat”. I am fully and painfully aware that my very unhealthy relationship with my body, with weight, and with eating probably is a great influencer on how I feel about the fat acceptance/body positive movement. I am fully and painfully aware of how a diet culture and an unhealthy emphasis on  beauty standards can impact children for the rest of their life. I am fully and painfully aware that there is a great need for some sort of movement that focuses on body positivity and loving yourself. All that being said, I think the fat acceptance movement is in the same camp as radfems, TERFS, MRAs, militant atheism, militant veganism, PETA, and so on. Essentially, there was a good idea that got taken way too far. The idea that women (or men) shouldn’t be judge for their weight as it relates to their jobs or their social interactions is great and I am behind that. Yes, it’s ridiculous that overweight women are the least likely to be hired in a filed of job candidates because of assumptions about their laziness or tidiness. Yes, it’s ridiculous that overweight men are immediately rejected as potential love interests because people assume they must be unclean and unmotivated. Supporting a movement to stop those things? Good! Supporting the ideas that there’s zero effect on your health if you’re overweight and that if someone discounts you as a love interest because you weight an great deal more than that person means that person is the devil? Boo! Not good! I think body positivity is great. I think size inclusive fashion is great. What I don’t think is great is the encouragement to maintain very unhealthy weights because “you can be a fat goddess!”. The reality of it is, excess fat will impact your health to some degree (obviously depending on how overweight you are). Excess fat will also impact your ability to pursue hobbies (again, the degree to which is related to the degree of overweight). Excess fat can inhibit your ability to be successful in your job (again, depending on your specific weight and ALSO not related to desk jobs: i.e.— an overweight ER nurse is impeded by their weight because they are slower, an overweight preschool teacher can be impeded by their weight because it limits their ability to move around with kids; like clearly if there is any level of activity to your job and you are overweight you are likely impeded in SOME degree even if the level of impediment is only in how much pain or discomfort you are in when you go home).  I just think it’s ballistic that there are people who will argue that being 400+ lbs isn’t related to their heart disease or their diabetes or their need for knee replacements— but that’s what this movement has created. It’s created a bunch of health deniers who choose to believe that the only negative impact of their weight comes from how people perceive them— which they in turn have done a great job of turning any form of unpleasant or less than ideal interaction with someone as an example of “fatphobia” or fat discrimination. My other main issue with the fat activism is the amount of entitlement it breeds. Men and women suddenly think they are entitled to being found attractive by someone and that if that person is not attracted to them it is FATPHOBIC! Of course a lot of these people also would deny any potential partner who is fat— because even though they love their body and their is nothing wrong with their weight, they’re still only attracted to fit guys BUT if those fit guys aren’t attracted to them it is because they are EVIL. Which, as someone who is getting married to the person I’ve been with for 7 years… if you whittle down relationships to just the aesthetic or the physical then you are too emotionally stunted to be in a healthy relationship. Plus, if you are incapable of realizing the degree to which mutual physical attraction IS a real part of relationships then you’re a fucking idiot. You simply cannot demand everyone find you attractive regardless of how you look— that’s just not how humans work. And I’m not saying fat people are automatically hideous, I’m saying “Some people want to fuck Brad Pitt and vomit at James Corden but some people want to fuck James Corden and vomit at Brad Pitt AND EVEN THEN some people vomit at both & some people want to fuck both.” There’s a lot of fake self-acceptance that goes on in that movement because if you do not love yourself enough to stop throwing yourself at people who are not interested in you then you are NOT accepting of your size. These people want to find love in spite of their size, not just find love— and that’s the fucking issue. When you paint your whole emotional identity around the thing that makes you feel less than, then you are not capable of honestly having healthy human interactions. Here’s a little fun anecdote for you to ponder as to what I mean about how these people act in very self-deceptive way and in a very scape-goat-everyone-else-for-your-own-unhappiness way: All of my bridesmaids are tall Amazonian goddesses (they’re all still shaped differently and they all have their own insecurities because they’re humans). My maid of honor though, is not. She is shorter than I am and heavier than I am by a good deal. Because I do not want anyone to feel like they don’t look good or whatever, I am trying to be as on top of making sure everyone feels as comfortable as possible (while still adhering to the aesthetic of my wedding). This means late night stress induced googling of “one of my bridesmaids is plus sized??” hoping to get some insights from other brides about how the fuck you manage that person’s feelings without it becoming a Thing. This has lead to the bemused reading of some absolute fucking horror stories including: a bridesmaid telling the bride that the bride is only losing weight to make her look bad, a bridesmaid purchasing a dress behind the bride’s back after the bride painstakingly found a designer that would make above 5X and would be flattering only to have the bridesmaid call the bride selfish for not letting her wear what she wants, OH AND— A BUNCH OF FUCKING ARTICLES FROM “FAT POSITIVE” WOMEN LAMENTING HOW MUCH OF A BITCH THEIR FRIEND WHO THEY WERE A BRIDESMAID FOR WAS FOR “MAKING THEM LOOK BAD” BY BEING A THIN BRIDE OR HAVING A LOT OF THE WEDDING PARTY BE “THIN” OR FOR GETTING ROBES AS GIFTS BUT APPARENTLY THE 3X ROBE DOESN’T FIT. All kinds of fucking garbage in which people who are very unhappy with themselves adopt such a defensive form of selfishness that they care more about how bad they feel than being supportive friends. Now, I am taking these all in and trying to do what I can to not have my MOH feel shitty. She’s also not a psychopath so I should be fine. But the point is— substituting a militant “anti-fitness” attitude for the crushing unhappiness you feel over your body doesn’t solve any issues. It just masks problems and enables you to continue to engage in unhealthy thought and action.