#and my body dysmorphic ass thought

[helunar1]

TUA FIC IDEA (3)

Had this idea for a long while but unsure how to go about it, but i legit wrote a whole prologue about it in my notebook that perhaps I'll type out eventually once I figure out *where* to go plotwise

Klaus centric, an AU where Klaus died on the day of his birth alongside his mother. His skin tinged blue, body cold and pallid.

Its only within the next hour after his birth does his heart beat again. The wails of the infant filling the small cabin, hands - still cold, freezjng - flailing against the white sheets covering him.

His aunt only could only slowly peel away the fabric, heart stuttering to reveal the same infant she saw before - blue, sickly, and corpse-like - yet wriggling, crying - alive, *alive*

The father rushes in to stare at the baby, watching at its eyes peel open to reveal white, milky irises.

The eyes of death.

Eyes of a curse.

Or an AU where Klaus looks more like the ghosts that haunt him rather. It changes a few things

Spoilers if I were to ever write this

Likely an explorative piece - I deal with p bad Body Dysmorphia and have from a young age so this likely will be a vent piece

Will be pre-season 1 - might go into apocolypse week but there'd be changes and if I do, this might turn into a multi-part series

Things I wanted to explore

His appearance:

Klaus essentially has pale white skin and is almost like a thin translucent layer that showcases the vivid blue and purple veins underneath

Rarely has a flush - often jealous at the others who go red even at the slightest compliment. He tries to slap and pinch his skin for it to do the same, nd despitr the heart beating under his skin, no blood comes to paint his cheeks pink underneath

Dry skin, always cold (he always carries a chill around him. Fun side note; its something his siblings appreciate during the hot summer months. Not so much during the winter)

Pallid - skin almost like rubber. Unnaturally so

Small detail that even the lids of his eyes have a spider web of little veins that he hates. Dark bags under his eyes

Irises are pale and white - like a film on top of them. Only a pale green hidden in his irises if he were to look hard enough. He wishes the green would break past the white film they hide behind, but they never do.

His pupils are more often then not dilated - when high, he likes stare at how they get smaller to reveal more of the pale green he wishes to see

Hes fairly thin, gaunt and struggles to gain muscle mass. Hr doesn't know however, if its from his condition or the lack of appetite

His lips are often chapped, dry and also always tinged purple

More on this AU

Klaus realizing he looks different amongst the others. Or rather, his siblings look different most of the people Klaus knows, all of whom, with the exception of his father and his robot mother, are dead. At first it wasnt that big of an issue, but Klaus couldnt help but notice people on the magazine covers that Allison liked to sneak in or on the pictures of people in their textbooks

It becomes more apparent when the kids start sneaking out and people take notice of Klaus, either recoiling in disgust, or fear - most people try to stay polite, but it's not hard to notice their flinching and stares when they see him

>>>Agnes is there and is the nicest to him, he sees her like a (human) mom he never had

As much as I love the sibbies, kids are cruel and do start commenting on Klaus being different. Reginald has little care for appearances but does not disuade the others from making comments

Comments turn to teasing, eventually become mean

Becomes more apparent at their debut, where magazine covers and media comment on Klaus's appearance - calling him creepy, strange, odd

>>>> one scene where they have a photoshoot and the photographers embrace his look. klaus is made to feel pretty for the first time

Klaus experiments with make up - does a horrible job (cuz hes a kid) and is made fun of for looking like a clown. Lots and lots of shame and klaus failing down a self hate spiral

More tough words - some isolation due to the strange aura he brings along with his appearance. Told by one of them that no one would love a corpse (during a fight - again, kids are mean)

Gets older and believes he's revolting to look at, the ghost calling him one of them. But he's not dead, he's not like them. He's alive. He's alive. (But is he?)

Five leaves - might do something of Five caring the least about his appearance. Hit him hard.

Klaus is now an unconfident teen, hides in clothes that are too big but still colourful to try and bring some sort of life. He still plays a little with make up - small bits to make him look less like a corpse and more (alive) like the others

Media and now others consider him like a bad omen, bringing in the haunted and could only lead to bad luck. His siblings start noticing this as well and begin to believe it to a degree. Klaus does as well

Still flighty and what not cuz ghosts are loud and hes trying to figure out a way to silence them - likely keeping the scene with the heels and discovering drugs

Fic would be dealing with self harm, intrusive thoughts and dissociation - klaus would be in his head a lot

in an alley, klaus desperate for some sort of numbing relief that he can no longer depend on stealing at the academy (Reginald had Grace hide all the opiods). Difficult for Klaus to get the drugs on the streets due to his appearance and death aura - his reputation still prevailing, along with his high status - people rather not deal with him

[[[TW: underage, drugging, sexual assualt, and non con; >>>>>>>>>>>>> at a party and klaus getting drugged and wakes up in someone elses home and in pain. He doesnt remember any of the night, but he can guesd from the aches and bruises what happened. He thinks, bitterly, that at least there was someone willing to fuck a corpse]]]

[[[[TW: Physical assualt; often beaten for his appearance (some even calling him of the devil or satanic - which would reference prologue i wrote in my book)]]]]]]

Ben's death still occurs (some part of klaus is jealous that ben looks more human than Klaus even as a ghost) and Ben follows him around after that and bears witness to Klaus's descent into depression and self hatred

Klaus becoming too afraid to leave the house but also needing the drugs - at a limbo

TW SUICIDE ATTEMPT: klaus offing himself, finding himself in the void with God. Notices his reflection (maybe thru the water or a mirror), for the first time, that despite his pale and colourless skin, he looks more alive than he ever did when he was actually alive (was he ever actually alive). His eyes, he notices, are green. Vibrant green. His fingers trace along his skin and he thinks, for the first time in his life, that he is pretty.

He wakes up. Ben is screaming and crying in the way only ghosts can. He barely registers it. Only scrambling back up to look at himself in the mirror to only cry when he once again looks like a corpse

Everyone but Klaus and Luther leave the academy, klaus still does drugs but not at hard due to struggling to find people to deal him and the fact that he's so ashamed of his appearance - deals with agoraphobia that worsens overtime

Luther and Klaus bonding - Klaus begining to trust Luther and Luther getting cracks in his rose tinted glasses. Starts to wonder if he should take Klaus to live somewhere safe, away from everything and everyonr - they only have each other

Vanyas book - talks about Klaus and his creepy aura. Ben is mad, Klaus just slinks further into depression and isolation. Luther is angry - soon after the accident and Luther undergoes his fathers serum

Luther and Klaus bonding over body image after Luthers accident! Luther now too ashasmed to leave but angry and frustrated. Klaus trying to be supportive

Some tentative things:

Roadtrip to Pennsylvania!! To see his mother to only find out the truth - sends him into further depression

Luther deciding between going to the moon - I am considering that he runs away with Klaus

Klaus still undergoing training with Reginald - discovering more of his powers over the ghosts

Powers may include that he is acrually able to control them - once again, issues of whether he is alive or not come into question. Ends up giving in to the ghosts as they chant "one of us" to him

Before that we could see some sibling bonding with the others - diego is the first to see him

>>>> perhaps when visiting Grace, Diego sneaks around to see if Klaus is still there - which he is, cue long talks and Diego coming by once in a while (and Klaus trying to convince Diego to also talk with Luther)

Klaus using his immortality as a method of escaping, God isn't happy but he has enough control to stay for a little while in a body that he feels like is actually his

Still debating about Luther going to the moon and leaving Klaus to Reggie or him finding a place with Klaus and escaping - Klaus laughing and calling all three of them (Luther is aware of Ben) a runaway circus act

If the former - klaus goes further under reggies training, so angst angst. Power increase but also lots of mania and trigger warnings

OOOOOR

If the latter, luther and klaus bonding, homelessness but also struggling to adjust to a society that outcasts them

Tempted to write both haha like an AU of an AU, the latter maybe the AU and the former may be what actually happens cuz it could help lead to the apocolypse week- but, considering I have like 5 fic ideas (not posted yet) that deal with apocolypse week, kinda tempted to do something else

KLAUS POWERS:

full control and communication with the dead, summoning and banishing ghosts, raise the dead (aka make the corporeal), immortality and regeneration, levitation, soul projection into the void

**tentatively, has some sort of control life and death like a grim reaper. If i incorporate this, then likely will have Reggie experiment this on him

Perhaps in a happy ending, Klaus gains the control and learns to banish the ghosts

Okay typed this all out in the lunch room - nothing is edited and I'm just spilling out the ideas I have. Nothing is edited and can be switched around or changed as I deadass typed this in one go.

Please do not copy my ideas as these may be used in a fic!! Potentially - I am very cautious about uploaded finished pieces but this fandom has me with so many ideas!!

If you'd like to chat about this fic idea (or any of my others) lmk! I'd love to have someone to talk about TUA with!!

Til then, see y'all in the next FIC IDEA post (or maybe an actual fic?? Who knows)

#luna fic ideas #tua fic ideas #klaus hargreeves #the umbrella academy #my poor thumbs fjfjdjd #i have legit a whole chapter written in my notebook of Klaus's birth #the idea came when i thought if klaus became friends with the dead #which is another fic idea i have thought and planned about #tho not posted #and i wondered well #what if he looked like them #and my body dysmorphic ass thought #Cause klaus is confident (at least from what i can tell) in his appearance #and in his sexuality #so thought itd be fun to explore what would happen if he wasnt #while also still keeping core elements of his personality #anyway #see yall soon #come talk to me tho!! #i love sharing ideas!!

[shizucheese]

I was doing so well on staying on top of things and then Life just kinda...happened to me. (I wouldn't normally include stuff like this on these posts but like....if you're a writer and you're in need of an editor check out the pinned post on my blog). Today is 4/5/24. Episode 10 came out on 3/14 and since then the podcast has been on hiatus (so at least I don't have multiple episodes to get caught up on...haha...). I'm finally getting my ass in gear on this because @kazooyay asked me what I thought about this episode and I'd like to give her an answer to this question. Also figured I'd directly expose her to the chaos she has unleashed. :)

As always you can find the full reblogged spiral into insanity here!

“Talkers”

Norris (Voice: Martin?/ Alex)

Episode 1: “Reanimation (Partial) -/- Regret [Email]”. The Stranger? The End? The Dark? The Lonely? The Flesh? Arthur (Nolan?).

Episode 3: "Infection (full body" -/- Arboreal [Journal entry]". The Spiral? (Paranoia? Auditory, visual and olfactory hallucinations) The Lonely? The Corruption. The Flesh? (Callbacks to the Flesh Garden from S5)

Episode 8: "Architecture (liminal) -/- hunger [coursework]". The Spiral. The Lonely. (Statement giver has an ex-wife. Witnesses strange mist. Fog?) The Stranger? The Vast. The Flesh. The description of the space reminds me a bit of Mag 150: Cul-De-Sac. The description of the diners and the way they were speaking reminds me of Mag 48: Lost in the Crowd.

Common Themes: Hearing the voice of a dead/ missing loved one? Loneliness

Chester (Voice: John?/ Jonny)

Episode 1: “Transformation (eyes) -/- Trespass [chat log]”. Magnus Institute, The Eye. (Involves a forum; the Web?).

Episode 5: "Disappearance (undetermined) -/- Invitation [Internet blog]". The Eye (Movies. Movie name: "Voyeur" "Must be seen to be believed"...). The Web? (Another website?). (Very reminiscent of Mag 110: Creature Feature.) The "poor old guy" at the theater is totally an Eye avatar, right? Kinda gives me "Simon Fairchild when he was first introduced" vibes.

Episode 7: "Agglomeration (miscellany) -/- congregation [email]". The Stranger. The Buried. The Desolation. Possibly all of them if my theory about the items the Volunteers brought in is correct...

Unsure if this is Eye related like the other statements were. This is also the first "Chester" statement where the source material wasn't from a website or blog, which don't have the same expectation of privacy that the sources of the other statements do. Email, though, so still internet related, and this seems to be an open letter rather than personal correspondence, so it still might align with the theme.

Episode 9: "Dice (bone) -/- fate [Magnus Statement]" Flesh (blood)? The Dark (blown lightbulbs)? Web. (The dice aren't random. Nobody ever says no to rolling them. The way the statement giver describes his experience almost sounds like addiction, which is also Web affiliated).

Are these the same dice that were in the bag of The Merchant from TMAGP 4? Common theme continues to be Eyes/ The Magnus Institute and The Web (either internet-related or an artifact of The Eye like in TMAGP 7)

Agustus: (rare?)

Episode 4: “Collection (blood) -/- musical [letter]” The End. The Lonely? The Slaughter.

Letter writer thinks passing on his violin might allow a part of himself to live on in his nephew. Very Jonah Magnus of him.

Music teacher hears “faraway music”, then goes crazy and throws himself out of the carriage and dies. Reminiscent of Mag7 and the Piper? The merchant’s wares include dice (Mag 29?). Got the violin from him (took his blood?). Effect of the violin reminiscent to Grifter’s Bone (Mag 42).

(Oliver Bardwell lol very funny guys)

Non-Talkers (?)

Episode 2: "Transformation (full) -/- dysmorphic [video call]". The Spiral? The Flesh. The Stranger. Ink 5oul (avatar/ entity?)

Episode 6: "Injury (needles) -/- intimidation [999 call] "Corruption? The Spiral? The Flesh? The End?

"Needles" reminds me of Michael!Distortion.

Episode 10: "Mascot (kids) -/- murder [TV interview]" The Buried? The Stranger. The Flesh or a light version of The Slaughter (injuries)? The Slaughter. (Would feeling trapped like Nigel does be The Buried or The Web?)

Notes and Thoughts:

Oh they're totally using Bonzo as a hitman aren't they....what the fuck.

Also I heard that tape recorder turn on and off. In TMA the tape recorder turned out to be a tool of The Web. Is that still the case here? What's that damn Spider up to? I swear to god if Annabelle shows up I'm going to scream. And now I can't tell if some of "crawling sounds" are just for the environment or if they really are spiders.... Pattern on the floor? Also Alice is saying a lot of things that she makes sound like she's joking but like....."Maybe Archie stands for Archive" "Worm tracks?"

I so cannot wait to learn more about Sam's past and what he was involved in. Chosen for what? Did he want to be chosen? Why?

Okay okay okay, so obviously Sam and Alice let something out of the Institute. Is it John or Martin? Annabelle? Jonah? Something else entirely? This might be nothing but whatever "[Error]" is was credited to Beth Eyre, who previously voiced the lady who witnessed the Flesh Ritual in MAG 130: Meat. Is this her in this world (she gave a direct statement in TMA...)? Or are they using her for this character right now to throw us all off?

#the magnus protocol #the magnus protocol spoilers #the magnus protocol speculation #tmp #tmp spoilers #tmp speculation #tmagp #tmagp spoilers #tmagp speculation #tma spoilers #shizu's red string board

[iridescent-x-pixie]

TW:

Body checks/venting

Not sick anymore thank fuck but I've ate wisely this week n not had mad appetite/hunger pangs cos of fasting n small portions plus a fuck ton anxiety has me disinterested in eating much.

(my hand had 2 b over my belly b4 i saved any pics took, sorry if its annoying but I needed to cover it, my body dysmorphic ass only let's me see it as like a dad bod looking belly I hate my brain lmao)

Had tons of horrid shit going wrong in my life atm, doubt I'm gonna have hardly any struggle not eating much so as an effort 2 try n do something nice I'm gonna play stardew n chill in pjs n hope I can have some peace from the buzzing noise tht my thoughts become when my minds left to wander.

#b0dy check #body chex #body ch3ck #b0dy ch3ck #bing3 eating #3d vent #3at1ng d1s0rd3r #4norexi4 #caloric restriction #disordered eating thoughts #ed no sheeran #i wanna be small #it's not as simple as just eating #starv1ng #th1n$po #ana trigger #i will be thin #tw ed in the tags #tw eating issues #i will be small #i want to be a skeleton #i want to be small #i want to be weightless #i will never recover #i wish i was thinner #i want to be slim #i wanna lose weight

[lvcifvr]

Like, I'm technically bisexual

but

I'm so fucking gay.

Boys <3 (Feel free to read below, I just didn't want to clog up dashboards with a long ass post with my bullshit rambling lmao)

This is why I don't refer to myself as pan bc, yeah, I can be attracted to anyone, regardless of gender or presentation or anything,

but I've always been more attracted to guys.

Before I figured out I was trans, I knew I was queer somehow but the way I felt about guys didn't feel "straight".

I didn't feel like a girl who liked guys.

And that was hella confusing for a long time until I came across trans stuff online and started reading up and whatnot.

And then, I came out as a gay trans guy, which was perfect for a long while honestly,

but then I realized that I can be attracted to / have feelings for more than just guys so I thought maybe I was pansexual.

Ngl, I wanted to be pansexual because I felt that being bisexual was... looked down on? I guess.

For being "non-inclusive".

When pansexual first started becoming big, it was posed as being attracted to others regardless of gender and bisexual was attraction to guys and to girls. So I called myself pansexual for a while before I realized it wasn't right for me at all because I was so rarely attracted to people who weren't guys. So I went back to gay for a long long time until I forced myself to recognize my rare attraction to women and my attraction to butch / masc identified people who weren't guys.

I started confidently identifying as bisexual when I was around 27 years old, which was three years ago. And now I can very very confidently say that, although I AM bisexual, my attraction leans extremely heavily toward guys and that it is incredibly rare for me to be actually interested in anyone else. I can think a woman is hot but I'm not interested in dating a woman. At least, not right now. If I meet a woman who does click with me and draws me in, I'd for sure be open to being together, of course. I also find myself not really interested in sex? I've been thinking I'm on the asexual spectrum for a long time, honestly. My love languages are physical affection and spending time together and, though I do enjoy reading queer romance that involves sexual themes and sex (very much honestly!), if I think about myself being in those situations, it doesn't really do anything for me? It might be because I'm a virgin at the age of 30 or it might just be because I haven't met the right person OR I AM on the ace spectrum. I do find myself very sensual though. I ache to be held and to hold someone, to kiss them and cup their face in my hands, to lay on each other and to hear each other's breathing and heartbeats. Long, languid make outs and hand holding, being intimate. I adore all of it and I ache so so much for it that I cry sometimes lmao. But, sex? I don't know. It might also have to do with my dysphoria and body dysmorphic disorder, seeing as how I see myself as disgusting and I wouldn't want a partner to interact with my chest or anything lmao. So, maybe some day. I want top surgery for sure, but I'm still on the line between wanting to start T and not wanting to due to how the cis men in my family look. I'm already pretty androgynous and my body is husky. I don't want to lose my hair like the other men in my family and I don't want to get even more "masc" looking. I want to be a pretty, slightly masculine looking guy. And I also do not like being called a "man" because that's not me. I also have trauma related to men so there's that as well. I honestly don't know why I'm typing this all out, but it feels... Nice, to do so, I guess. I think I'm just lonely. 30 years old, no non-long distance relationships because I live in a still very-Conservative state. I'm a disabled bisexual trans guy who prefers guys. I don't have the energy to really go out and meet other queers because of my disability and my job sucking up all of my energy. I definitely don't hide the fact that I'm queer, it's pretty obvious lmao. I wear a pin at work with one half being the bi flag and the other being the demiguy flag with my name and "he/him" pronouns on it. I talk openly about being queer. I don't hide it, I just don't really make it a "thing", if that makes sense? But I'm just so achingly lonely. And I'm afraid that I'm going to die alone. I just... I have so, so much love to give. And I think I deserve to get some myself, y'know?

#bisexuality #bi awareness week #trans guy #demiguy #ace spectrum #asexual spectrum #disability #invisible disability #fibromyalgia #fibro #queer #queer writer #wtf else do I tag this as #idek lmao #mine

[thatmultifandomhoe]

The Size of a Heart

Pairing: Lee Hoseok (Wonho) and Reader

Word Count: 9,919

Genre: Established Relationship AU - Slice of Life AU - Smut - Angst - Fluff

Overview: Between work and obtaining an MFA, it had been too long since you and   Hoseok had gotten to spend more than a few hours together, let alone be intimate with each other. When he whisks you away for a well-deserved   weekend getaway, just the two of you and no one else, you eagerly jumped  on board, and him. But when you wake up alone left with your thoughts,  unable to escape the insecurities you once put behind you, this weekend  changes your relationship in a way you hadn’t even hoped for.

Warning: Tattooed Wonho, Pierced Wonho, messy kisses, Wonho is a hoe for the reader’s boobs, size kink - body insecurity, body dysmorphia, talk about dieting, talk about starving, talk about binge eating, fasting, self-hatred, self-conscious, use of the term fat in a negative view – explanation of the butterfly project.

A/N: This drabble was perhaps one of the hardest fics I’ve written, and that’s because this story deals with something that I’ve struggled with for many, many years now. With that being said, one of the many things this story deals with is body dysmorphia.

For those who are unaware, body dysmorphia or - Body dysmorphic disorder - is a mental health disorder in which you can't stop thinking about one or more perceived defects or  flaws in your appearance — a flaw that appears minor or can't be seen by  others. I am stating this right now, I have never been diagnosed with body dysmorphic disorder, but I have done many of the things that are mentioned later on in this fic.

This was not an easy story to write because I put in my own experiences with being self-conscious, with hating what I see in the mirror, with seeing an image of myself that isn’t what others see. To be honest, I’ve also left out a lot of the things that I’ve done because of that. There were many moments were I had to stop and walk away from this fic because it was so hard to read the things the MC is going through, and knowing that I did them, that I still do. It’s not easy.

This is just a heads for those who may not be comfortable reading such things. And that’s perfectly understandable. For those of you do decide to read this fic, well, I hope you enjoy. I really do. There are moments that made me laugh, so I promise it’s not all angst lol. I really do.

Master List:

Music Playlist:

Part of the Intimacy Anthology Project

©thatmultifandomhoe 2020. Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without permission.

The sky was burning as the sun set for the night, cloaking the city in its familiar darkness. Leaning against the side door, you watched the world blur by from the passenger seat of Hoseok’s car.

Only half an hour earlier did you get a text from him telling you to pack a bag. Somehow, he managed to clear his own schedule, and knowing that you were free as well, he decided that the two of you needed a getaway from reality for a few days, even if it was only to his place. The best of it all, was the promise of spending all day in his bed.

You and Hoseok had only been dating for six months at this point, and while sex with him wasn’t a new thing, this was the first time that you were going to be spending a weekend with him. With all the hours that he put into his tattoo shop, and you working on obtaining your MFA while still working full time as an assistant to a family run law firm, more often than not your schedules didn’t line up. Work and school dictated both your lives, making it near impossible to spend more than a few hours together.

Despite living in the same city, the two of you relied on video chats and messaging apps to stay connected as if it was a long-distance relationship.

Which is why once you had received his text about his plans, you had rushed around the apartment, ignoring the strange looks your roommates gave you as you ran to your room, throwing in clothes from the closet without a second thought and those lacey bra and panties that had been waiting for their moment to shine.

Three nights. Two days. Alone with Hoseok sleeping next to you, was all that you needed and wanted to do. There were no plans whatsoever that involved leaving his bed.

Shifting in the seat, the corners of your mouth lifted when seeing Hoseok glance at you, his eyes lingering on your bare legs as you straightened them out more. He was driving one-handed, the other resting on the console, fingers intertwined with yours as he rhythmically rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb.

“Won’t be much longer,” Hoseok said, lifting your tangled hands to kiss the back of yours.

You hummed in agreement, watching the corner of his eyes crinkle as he smiled and chuckled, glancing up at you before focusing back on the road. He had asked for you to be ready to go by seven, that way there wouldn’t be much traffic to deal with.

“You sure you won’t have to work this weekend?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Hoseok nodded, kissing your knuckles once more and keeping them against his lips for a few extra moments. “I promise, love. I made sure not to book any sessions.”

Adjusting in his seat, he shifted his knee against the steering wheel, the clicking of the blinkers going off as he pulled into his driveway. Your smile widened as you let go of his hand to gather your purse and backpack, prepared to open the door when the lock sharply echoed in the car. There was no time for you to react because the next thing you knew, fingers were gripping your chin and turning you to face Hoseok. For a split second, his sneaky grin took up the majority of his face before his mouth descended onto yours.

His plush lips were soft against yours, and while he had given you a quick kiss when you had left the apartment, you had been too excited about being with him to be able to properly enjoy it. Now…the bags slipped from your fingers, a dull thud barely registering in your mind as you cradled the back of his head. Briefly you felt him smile, but when you leaned further into him, his hands sliding their way down and around your frame as the kiss deepened.

It had been so long since either of you kissed like this. Usually you settled for soft and sweet, occasionally indulging in his games when he would try to pull you back for a chaste kiss, then another, and then one last one, I promise, until you had to rush to get back to the office or class.

Hoseok tugged on the bottom of your shirt until it was freed from your jeans, eagerly sliding his palms over your back, trailing each bump of your spine and leaving your body shivering with his sudden touch. Threading your fingers through his black hair, you lightly tugged on the locks, his sudden groan shooting you straight in the heart.

“Been too long,” you murmured, shifting in the seat so that you were sitting on your knees in the seat, and for the first time ever, hovering over Hoseok as you leaned back down, hungrily kissing him.

When was the last time the two of you were able to lose yourselves in each other? Without worrying about work and projects getting in the way every single time?

There was no warning from Hoseok except for a squeeze of your hips when you felt yourself becoming airborne for a few brief seconds, finding your new position to be straddling his hips. His hands felt like they were everywhere, lost in the taste of the mint gum he must have chewed earlier to do anything more than moan when his hands slipped into your back pockets to squeeze your ass.

Taking advantage of your open mouth, he slipped his tongue in, grip tightening on your ass as he felt your hips rock against him.

Even with the AC on, the cold air did nothing to cool your body temperature, making the already warm summer day hotter inside the car. Although you knew who to blame for that sudden change.

Your heart was racing as the kissing continued breaching into desperate lust. Your chest was aching from the lack of oxygen, but you refused to give in to such a simple thing like air. In your opinion, this, kissing your boyfriend, was far more important despite how much your lungs were disproving this decision.

It didn’t help that despite being on his lap, space between you and the steering wheel were tight. Needing something to hold on to, you slid your hands up Hoseok’s chest, gripping the sides of his leather. The sudden pull on his jacket had him moving forward, and with your minds preoccupied, neither of you realized the consequence of that action until it was too late.

The horn blared in your ears, jolting the two of you apart at the unwanted noise that only stopped when Hoseok tugged you off the steering wheel and against his chest. For the short moments afterwards, the outside world fell silent, your chest heaving as short gasps escaped from trying to catch your breath. Palms placed firmly on Hoseok’s chest, they moved with him as he tried to regulate his own breathing, and it was there that they shook with his shoulders, his giggles starting out soft and adorable before growing loud.

His laughter was infectious. So much so that you found yourself resting your forehead on his shoulder, cheeks aching from smiling and laughing so harshly. The longer that you sat on his lap, a dull ache settled in your knees, but there was nothing in this world that was going to make you leave his arms, the very ones that were wrapped around you with one of his hands cradling the back of your head. He held you just tight enough to reassure you that he was in fact here and holding you, that this wasn’t just another hopeful dream.

“Are you okay?” He said, his voice light with his giggles.

Nodding, you leaned backwards to look at him, eyes smiling as bright as his smile. “I’m fine,” you reassured, stealing a glance behind you to make sure that you didn’t hit the steering wheel as you shifted on his lap.

 His soft pink lips were darker and his hair was disheveled from your fingers. Reaching you, you gently fixed the messed up looks, missing the way that his laughter turned to only the occasional giggle, his face softening as he gazed at you. Before you could remove your hand, Hoseok was taking it in his, fingers automatically lacing together with yours as he bumped his forehead against yours.

You closed your eyes at the connection, catching the faintest scent of crisp apples attached to his clothing. It was fresh, yet reminded you of his shop at the same time. He must have come straight to your apartment from working on a client.

Inside your chest, your heart didn’t race, instead it slowed down, comfortably beating as his nose softly brushed against yours. As much as you had missed the passion and his kisses, out of everything, it was the simplest of innocent touches, his familiar presence that you craved and missed so dearly. He had a way about himself that was able to turn the mood up to a hundred, and carefully bring it back to normal.

“How about we leave this car,” Hoseok murmured, his palms resting on the small of your back. “I don’t know about you, but I’d rather spend our little vacation inside the house.”

As perfect as this moment was, he was right. The ache in your knees had grown along with a minor fear that if the two of you kept this going in the driver’s seat, that you would once again be getting a rude greeting from the car horn.

Lifting your forehead off his, you raised an eyebrow at him. “Anywhere in particular inside?”

The corner of his lips twitched again, bringing back his smile at full force. “Wherever you want to be.”

A scoff left you too easily. Pushing off of him, you undid the lock and with his hands steadying you, got out of the car and headed in the direction of his front door. A summer breeze kissed at your heated body, the leaves from the trees shaking from up above as small lights blinked in and out around the yard like miniature falling stars. It had been awhile since you last saw fireflies. They were childhood memories and nostalgia that had you diverting from the original plan of going inside, content with staying out for a little while longer.

When a pair of arms wrapped around your frame and hands settled on your hips, Hoseok’s head leaning against yours, it was easy to picture this moment happening over and over again every summer. While it was a little shocking how easy it was to imagine, nothing felt more right than this. Maybe not always right in this spot, but by his side was where it felt perfect. Where it felt natural.

Lips nibbling at your neck had your eyes closing, easily leaning against his body as you were brought back to reality.

“Didn’t know you were into public stuff,” Hoseok teased, sucking at a particular spot on your neck that had you gasping. “I’m not sure how my neighbors will feel about that though.”

You swatted at his thigh, feeling his lips curve upwards before he pressed himself completely against your backside, allowing you to feel every inch and curve of his body. Shifting in his embrace, your eyes widened upon feeling something else pressing against your ass. One that brought back more mildly more recent memories and weren’t childhood friendly, saliva building up and forcing you to swallow.

“Maybe…maybe we should go inside.” you suggested, voice barely above a whisper as you tried to remain calm, taking a shaky breath despite wanting nothing else but to continue.

Hoseok hummed against your neck, leaving one last kiss. Straightening up, he winked and tapped your ass, leaving a hand on your lower back to guide you to the house, all as if he wasn’t walking around with an erection or that he had riled you up. Like this was normal for him.

It only took seconds.

Fifteen seconds to get inside his house. Ten seconds to kick your shoes onto the shoe rack he had, and only five seconds for Hoseok to spin you around and bring you close enough for him to kiss. Like in the car, the lust was quickly ignited once more as you tried to keep up with him, wanting to taste and feel more of him. You wanted him, in every which way possible, to the point where it was an overflowing pot, and yet, even then it wouldn’t be enough.

You would never be able to get enough of the man that was Lee Hoseok.

With an ease that still surprised you, Hoseok gripped your waist and picked you up as if you weighed nothing, making you wrap your legs around his hips to bring you closer. Once he had you like he wanted, he secured his arms around you and carried you away all while keeping the kiss going.

He walked with a clear destination and kissed like he was the devil coming to collect his debt, personally bringing you to Hell’s gates where you knew that only his touch would run hotter than its fires.

A chill erupted along your spine as blankets and pillows gently encompassed your body, only then did the kiss break, chest heaving as you tried to look around the room, but when he nibbled on your shoulder it was game over. You moaned, taking a moment to indulge in the feeling before reaching up to push his leather jacket off. He barely removed himself from you to take off his favorite clothing piece, but he tugged it off and only ended up lightly biting your skin, eliciting a gasp from you.

“Sorry love,” Hoseok murmured, kissing that spot oh so gently that it questioned whether or not his lips had actually touched the skin.

“It’s fine,” you chuckled, tilting your head to kiss him once again.

When Hoseok kissed you for the first time it was after your sixth date. At first you had thought it was strange that he would wait so long for a kiss that most people gave out after a second or third date, but he had never been one to rush things, and by taking his time, it had made that first time all that more special. They had been addicting back then, and as he took you to Paris in the comfort of his room, you found yourself never wanting to stop.

Shirts were quickly discarded and you managed to get Hoseok on his back, taking the advantage of straddling his waist to leave your own love bites around his neck, kissing your way down his sternum, feeling each and every shaking breath that he took before hearing his groans.

A black and grey scale of a lion took up the majority of his chest, strands of its mane peaking up onto his shoulders and the base of his neck that always teased you when he wore a shirt. Due to how large the piece was, the mane covered his pecs, practically hiding the silver bars of his nipple piercings. A dare he had gotten back in his younger years. When he told you that story it was always with a smile. Free piercings and jewelry, I just had to prove I had the balls to go through with it.

A deep moan sounded from above when you kissed his nipple, the metallic taste of the piercing lingering on your tongue, his fingers digging into your hips as he tried to grind himself into you. It only succeeded in sending the fire that was boiling straight to your heart, your nails raking down his sides and causing him to flinch at the sensation.

“We can tease the fuck out of each other later,” Hoseok groaned, undoing the button of your shorts with quick movements. “I’ve missed you too much to wait any longer.”

As much as you enjoyed worshiping every curve and groove from his muscles, he was right. Releasing his piercing, you leaned back up to steal a kiss that he readily accepted. His palms trailed up your body, almost wrapping around you as he rolled you on your back and slipping between your lower half.

Breaking the kiss, Hoseok messily kissed down the valley of your breasts, his fingers making quick work of removing the offending shorts off your legs and tossing them to the floor without a care to where they landed. The bra didn’t last much longer. Once your breasts were free, he descended on the left one, sucking and licking the nipple as he fondled the other, forcing a gasp from you as you felt your underwear grow damp.

The blankets were bunched up and shifting towards the edge of the bed, and when he suddenly let go of your breast, the air in the room suddenly too cold as it made contact with the wet mess he left, you let go of the blankets and chose to hold on to his shoulders when he latched on the right nipple. As if not wanting to let it feel left out, he ran his thumb over the saliva he left, spreading it over your boob.

“Hoseok,” you whined, back arching off the pillow.

He hummed around your breast, lips curling up until he released you with a satisfied grin as the corners of his eyes crinkled.

“Sorry love,” he murmured, messily kissing you again. “Couldn’t help myself.”

“Take off your pants if you’re so sorry,” you said, raising a leg to push at the jeans that clung to his body.

“Gladly.”

Pushing himself up, his black bangs fell in his face as he worked on removing his pants, the belt clattering against itself as it fell to the floor.

Wetting your lips, you watched, unabashedly drinking in the way your boyfriend had built himself up from all the late night and early morning workouts he did at the gym, even occasionally slipping one in during the middle of the day. All his hard work and protein shakes had paid off, even with his odd obsession with eating ramen at random times.

However, as he went to push them down, you quickly leaned forward to trace the black cursive letters that were tattooed near his abs and v-line, right above the band of his jeans. He didn’t have this the last time you two had sex, and there was no memory of him mentioning getting another tattoo.

“Monsta…X?” You read aloud, glancing up at him.

His smile widened but he didn’t speak, settling for only raising a single eyebrow.

Of all the things he could have gotten inked onto his body, this was perhaps the strangest. Usually he only got tattoos that were important to him. The lion on his chest was symbolic to protecting those he loved. His entire upper left arm was a nightlife scene with bright colors of Seoul, South Korea to represent his home country, and underneath that on his forearm was a small bouquet of yellow daffodils that appeared as if the flowers had grown right out of his wrist, they were so realistic.

Everything had a meaning, so what was so important that he had to get those words tattooed? Especially in a spot that made it impossible to not steal a glance at his…

“You named your dick Monsta X?” You gasped; eyes wide as his body shook with his laughter. “Why?”

“Why not?” He giggled, continuing to remove his pants.

Your mouth opened and closed repetitively, but a slow grin overtook your face and you shook your head, just as amused if not even more than Hoseok was. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“I mean…” Tossing his pants away, he winked as he reached over to the nightstand drawer and pulled out a foil, setting it on the bed next to you as he sat on his knees, his thigh muscles stealing your attention briefly when they flexed, the bulge in his briefs almost straining against the fabric. “You always call it that anyway.”

The sudden laugh was ripped from your throat and you hurried to cover your mouth with your palm. If it weren’t for the fact that he was grinning – his eyes met yours for a moment and his smile softened, almost daring to dip into shy territory before he cleared his throat - and you knew that he had a sense of humor, you would have been trying to fix what you said. Besides, it wasn’t like he was wrong either, it had just been the last thing you expected him to say.

“Now that we got that out of the way,” Hoseok said, still amused while lifting your legs together in one hand as he removed your damp panties with the other, tossing them like a basketball towards the door despite your halfhearted protests. He quickly discarded his own pair without a second thought and after rolling on the condom, with no warning whatsoever he tugged on your legs to bring you closer to him and in-between you once more.

Leaning down, he captured your lips in another kiss. This one, unlike the others, was slower, more sensual as he took the time. Despite the heated impromptu make out session in the car, it still felt like forever since the two of you had last been together. Not just intimately, but in the simplest, and loving ways.

When the kiss finally broke, there were a few beats where the world seemed to stop turning as you gazed at each other. Even though it had only been six, glorious, months with Hoseok, the thought of it one day coming to an end was nonexistent. With him, it felt like you were right where you belonged.

He stole another kiss, then a second, but could one even call it stealing when you’re just as eager to kiss him? As the kisses continued, fingers trailed down your hip and thigh, feeling it grip your leg and moving it around his hip before repeating it with the other.

The night was long, but as the sheets twisted in your grip, you knew it was going to be everything and then some.

Shifting against the sheets, you pressed your face further into the warm pillow, the blankets tucked around your body, ensuring that at no point would the chilled air reach you. Not wanting to move around too much, you stretched a hand out to the side, hoping that Hoseok would feel you moving around and pull you close. He always ran warmer than you, even going so far and to tease about you using him as your own personal heater.

Instead, your fingers wrapped around cold sheets.

The difference in temperature had you yanking your hand back to the safety of the warm cocoon you were wrapped up in as you tilted your head. Blinking, you saw that the side where Hoseok should have been, was neatly made up, with only a single wrinkle from when you tried to feel around for him.

“Hoseok?” you said, wondering if he was even still in the house.

He had promised that this weekend was for the two of you with no interference from anyone. Including work and school. Holding the blankets to your chest, you took your sweet time sitting up. The sunlight that was streaming in through the blinds and decently sheer curtains blinded you for a few seconds, forcing you to tilt your head away from the window. Although in only a short time were your shoulders relaxing as the sunlight warmed the bare skin.

Now that you were up, you were able to see that the floor had been cleaned up from last night’s reunion, the clothes that neither of you had gave a damn about where now in the hamper by the bedroom door, and your purse and backpack were sitting on the leather desk chair with a red silk robe folded over the back. It was the exact opposite from the night before. The only exception was the missing Hoseok.

Yawning, you ran a hand through your hair, recalling the way that Hoseok had brushed the locks away from your face to kiss you. The corner of your lips curled upwards, and you had started to lay back down on the bed, the warmth of the blankets coaxing and teasing the possibility of a few more hours of sleep, you spotted a piece of paper on his pillow.

It was folded in half with your name written carefully on it with a heart, bringing a smile to your face before you had even read it.

Morning love, I promise I didn’t sneak off to work while you slept. I told you that nothing work related would interfere with our weekend, and I’m keeping it that way. So you’re probably wondering where the hell I am then. Don’t worry, I just went to the gym nearby for my morning workout. I should be back by noon, unless you’re still asleep by the time I return, then this letter will be pointless.

Either way, I’ll see you soon.

Always,

Your Muscle Bunny.

Despite the fact that he was still gone, a grin appeared and you were pressing your face into the pillow, still holding onto the letter as muffled giggles filled the room. He was never going to let you live that down, but even then, it was so true.

Hoseok was without a doubt jacked up and he took the time to research, spending hours understanding the muscles that he wanted to work on and finding the best exercises to achieve that. Making protein shakes in bulk. There had been many conversations where you’d ask and he’d go on and explain it all to you. At times it made you wonder why he never became a doctor.

But then there were those moments – the rare times the two of you managed to find time together – and he’d be the one tugging you closer for cuddles, sometimes laying on top of you with his head resting on your chest while watching a movie and playing with his hair. When it was hard to find time to meet up for dates, instead of going home to your roommates, you found love letters addressed from him, each one handwritten asking how you were and catching you up on his life. They were personal, each one containing a faint whiff of his cologne, sometimes little mementos that he thought you might enjoy, a slip of poetry or even ones he created himself. Every one you received was carefully placed in a box that you kept on your dresser, more often than not rereading them when all-nighters were the only way to get work done.

He was buff and strong, but at the same time he was soft and didn’t care who knew.

A true muscle bunny.

Rolling over on the bed, you set the note on the nightstand, making a mental note to save it for the memory box when you got back home. The clock had revealed that it was only eleven in the morning as you got out of the bed, quickly nabbing and covering yourself with the robe before going anywhere else.

Without having Hoseok home, the place was quiet as your footsteps papped against the wood floor when you went down the hallway to the bathroom. If he was at the gym then he’d be hightailing it to the shower, unless he wanted to be mean and give a sweaty hug, and you wanted to take advantage of the hot water before he got back. Living with a group of undergrads to try and save money had come with many pros and cons, but the true loss had been the long hot showers you treasured. It was a luxury if you were able to snag fifteen minutes without someone banging on the door.

The fact that he had written out a note instead of sending a text kept the smile floating as the water heated up, your favorite playlist playing loud enough to be heard from down the hall. It was the little things that he did that made you wonder if it was right to tell him those three special words. Since the two of you started dating, it was impossible to imagine yourself with anyone else, and while you didn’t want to jump the wagon and declare that you were ready for marriage, being able to say I love you and hear him tell it back to you, sent butterflies dancing in your stomach.

Reaching in to check the water, you hung the robe on the hook, glancing at your reflection in the mirror. Purple hickeys dotted all over your body, primarily centering around your breasts and neck. Unable to help yourself, you stepped closer to the mirror as you let down your hair, tracing the shape of the marks that he had left out of love last night.

When you thought back on it, he had been so focused on your breasts, his hands remained on either your hips or your face, tilting you constantly so that he could kiss you in whatever position he put you in. But never once had they touched your stomach. Eyes falling to your torso, the lack of any curves had you biting the insides of your mouth, ignoring the dulled pain as you swiped away the fog that had gathered on the mirror.

At least, you thought they had been out of love.

There were no curves. It was just a square. You were just a square. No wonder Hoseok had ignored your stomach last night. He was constantly working out and even with his abs and broad shoulders, his waist still had the slightest curve that was obvious when he wore tight shirts, giving his body the appearance of an upside-down triangle. He put in the time and effort for his muscles and here you were, just a square.

Your workout routine? The most of a workout that you got involved walking on campus to get to each class and then your car for home or work. You couldn’t remember the last time you had carved out a set amount of time to go to the gym or do a home workout. There was barely any time to yourself.

The hot water raining down on you was a momentary distraction from the thoughts swirling around. It only lasted a few short minutes. Like wildfire, they ignited memories and beliefs that you swore you had locked up and burnt to ash years ago. Especially when you have been doing so well recently.

Numbers of a scale rapidly spin each time you stand on it. The black and white numbers playing wheel of fortune as they decide your fate for the night. Did you lose? Or did you gain? The cards were always held by the ringmaster that was the small scale and whether or not they were what you originally wanted; they were never good enough when they were finally dealt out.

It was never enough. Never good enough. You always had to push it and even then, it wasn’t enough. The image you saw in the mirror convinced you to take smaller portions of meals, pushing the hours in-between meals before suddenly cutting off eating after a certain time, because the way your stomach twisted in pain and begged for some sort of substance had you convinced that it was working.

Days. Weeks. You’d be so good at keeping up with it, but there was always a hiccup that sent you plummeting in a spiral. It could be a snack, a small cherry tomato or even a cracker, and the next thing you knew all the containers were on the counter as you shoved whatever you could down your throat without a care in the word. Even then it wouldn’t be enough. It was never enough. You’d be eating, but your stomach would feel like a bottomless pit because you were so hungry. Hungry to the point that you wouldn’t be able to recall what the food you ate tasted like.

Then the scale would be mocking you all over again.

Leaning backwards against the wall, the water from the showerhead made it impossible to distinguish between the tears sliding down your face. You just pressed your lips together, just staring at the floral shower curtain that was hanging up, the shampoo bubbles sitting in your hair as you remained still.

You have been doing so good lately. The past hadn’t even been lingering thought and when Hoseok entered your life, everything just seemed to be falling in place.

Yet here you were, standing in the shower with water that was steaming but you felt nothing, rehashing old thoughts that were crawling their way through any empty space that was available. The tiniest crack of an opening was all they needed to enter uninvited.

He didn’t know about this. Hoseok. You had been so good with eating, no longer cutting back or bingeing that it never crossed your mind to tell him. But as you moved under the water to rinse out the suds, your fingers grazed the hickies he had left in his place. All over your chest and neck. Avoiding your stomach. Your thighs were barely even grazed. Everywhere but your stomach.

He knows, you thought, pressing the heels of your palms against your eyes, gasps and whimpers filling the bathroom but drowned out by the music as you cried. There was no other way to explain it. He saw what you used to see, what you still see. The square. Nothing more than a body with rolls that hung on you. It was a miracle he was able to still have sex with you last night. How could he be with someone like you when it was so obvious that he put effort into maintaining his own body.

Body on autopilot, your hands went through the motions of washing out your hair and then applying conditioner while your mind detached itself from the mundane task at hand. The idea of him seeing you like this, with no shape at all, what you considered to be a square...no. A square was too nice of a term. You were not a square. A glance through the opening of the curtain let you see your reflection in the mirror, and your eyes watered up once again. Not a square, you thought. A blob. A fat, overweight blob, taking up his time and space.

Twisting your hair, you stared at the locks as water poured out before abruptly shutting it off, fingers gripping the handle that controlled the temperature as you pressed your free palm against the wall. The bathroom was like a sauna. Even after with the water shut off, the room was hotter than hell.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to push away those thoughts. They were leeches clinging to the inside of your mind and no matter how much you pulled, they weren't coming off. In a daze you manage to straighten up and get out of the shower, wrap a towel around yourself and hair, all while biting down on the inside of your cheeks in an attempt to push them away. When you looked up however, the smear mark from when you wiped the fog off the mirror was still there, allowing you glimpses at yourself. For a split second you saw bloodshot eyes stared back and purple hickeys staring at you, but you looked down towards the floor to hurry out of the room, unable to push those thoughts and images away.

That’s because it’s you.

That blob is you.

It’s you.

Last night was wonderful. Beautiful. Perfect even. But now all you could think about was how Hoseok had avoided certain areas of you on purpose. That perhaps, he didn’t think you were as beautiful as he thought.

You didn’t recall changing. One second you were entering the bedroom in nothing but a towel and the next when you looked down to grip the fabric tighter, you were dressed in one of his black t-shirts and a pair of panties you had packed.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, the towel fell from your fingertips and in an attempt to hold on to something, anything to keep you from floating away, you slid them over your face and into your hair, twisting and gripping the locks until there was a hard ache on the side of your scalp.

“Go away,” you softly whispered, tugging a little hard to make those pesky leeches leave you. “Please go away. Please”

They needed to go. Disappear. It didn’t matter if you had to burn them to a crisp and leave behind a permanent scar. You just needed them to go away, because spiraling was not an option. Not again.

The house was silent when Hoseok arrived, his keys jangling together until he closed his fist around them, making him wonder if perhaps you were still asleep. A small smile formed as he quietly toed his shoes off, the first destination in his mind was to go to the bedroom and see if you were there.

Last night, neither of you had gone to sleep, or truly slept, until dawn had begun to peep through the curtains – because apparently the night didn’t last forever like the two of you had thought. A fault that was perhaps all on him and he should have known better. He was supposed to be older, wiser, more experienced, but how people liked to forget that he was still a man only in his twenties. Just…later in them.

But as he neared the bedroom, he remembered full well how you had wrapped your limbs around him, coaxing him back for more, kissing him not only on his lips but in everyplace where his skin wasn’t dotted with purple love marks from you.

Since he wore tank tops to work out in, the marks had certainly left an impression on the guys at the gym, receiving more head nods and grins than usual. The older man at the jewelry store however, had been less impressed. Then again, that could also be because Hoseok had gone straight there after working out, skipping out on his shower to pick up his order before the store closed for the day.

Not exactly the best decision that he’s made in life so far.

Carefully pushing open the bedroom door, his smile softened upon seeing you curled up on the bed. Not wanting to disturb you, he quietly set the box on his nightstand and left the room, going straight for the bathroom to shower.

As much as he would have loved to tease you, you didn’t deserve waking up to him smelling like dried sweat.

However, he frowned upon seeing the floor mats placed on the floor and condensation covering the mirror, droplets of water covering the entire surface of the bathroom. He turned to look down the hall, but he couldn’t hear any movements or your voice calling out his name.

Maybe she was still tired even after showering, Hoseok thought, shrugging it off as he shut the door behind him, hoping you hadn’t used up all the hot water.

Water dripped from his hair as he entered the bedroom, the towel tightly tied around his hips and confirming every single imagination and daydream. A glance over at your body revealed that you hadn’t moved at all in the time that he was gone.

Smirking, he kneeled on the bed, moving until he was behind you, pressing a hand on the mattress in front of you to maintain his balance while he leaned down to kiss your neck.

“Wake up love,” Hoseok murmured, dragging out the kisses as he took his sweet time in trailing them up to your jawline, last night once again reclaiming his mind. It was a joke to even consider that it had left in the first place.

He wasn’t going to lie and say that he hadn’t missed the sex when the two of you were apart more often than not, sex was great, amazing, otherworldly and even more with you. But that wasn’t even number one on his list. More often than not, he missed being able to sling an arm around your shoulders or waist to bring you in for a hug. The way that your fingers would run through his hair when you thought he was asleep, and the way your eyes always lit up when you talked about something that happened in your classes. Or when you would bump his leg with your foot to ask him about a word that was just on the tip of your tongue, but just conveniently out of reach at that second. It was always a simple word, but the way you exaggerated your arm motions while trying to describe it were fascinating to him.

Hoseok missed you.

Feeling you shift underneath him, his lips curled into a smile as he lifted his head, prepared to give you a kiss that you deserved, only for that mindset to suddenly change when he saw your watery eyes.

That was not how you normally woke up.

The last time he had seen you crying after waking up was when you had gotten your period in the middle of night. It had been a week early and the cramps came out of nowhere, leaving him clueless with what to do but willing to do anything to help ease the pain. Which meant a late-night run to the twenty-four hour convenience store, looking at a picture of the brand of pads you used on his phone, along with buying your favorite flavor of Ben and Jerry’s ice-cream and the big bottle of Advil.

He already had a heating pad at home for days when he overworked himself and his muscles got sore. Before leaving for the convenience store, he had set it up for you.

“What’s wrong love?” Hoseok asked, shifting so that his weight was on his left hand behind your back, hovering over your body to try and see your face better.

Before he could do it for you, you were quickly wiping your face with the heels of your palms. “Nothing,” you hurried to say, moving to sit up with the mindset of rushing out of the bedroom to make a run for the bathroom, hoping he would believe that it was a simple eyelash in your eye.

But he was too quick for you, his hand gently capturing your wrists and moving them down as he cupped your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Baby, it’s not nothing. What happened while I was gone?”

Sniffling, you shook your head. No. Why would you point out the obvious? He knew what you looked like. He saw. So why was he playing this game with you?

He sighed at your stubbornness, but that didn’t mean he was going to give up. Not caring if he got the blankets and sheets wet, he settled down beside you and slipped an arm underneath your body to roll you over and into his embrace where he securely wrapped his other arm over you. Once you were nestled in, Hoseok rested his chin on top of your head, drawing a lazy shape on your back, patiently waiting for the moment that you found your voice again.

The second Hoseok hugged you, the back of your eyes burned and you tightly squeezed them shut, not wanting to see anything, an old way to tell yourself that if you couldn’t see, then you wouldn’t have to see what was being reflected back at you.

But wrapped up in Hoseok’s arms, with his heart beating like a sweet lullaby, arms strong enough to fight off anyone who tried to hurt you, even he was unable to find and protect you from the leeches that forced you down the path that was littered with the broken glass and bloodstains that was your past.

His heart broke at the sound of your cries echoing in the bedroom, feeling the tears slide down his chest as he rubbed your shaking body. There was nothing he could do or say to make you feel better until he understood what was happening. All he could do was be here to hold you until you were ready.

Time passed by slowly, but at some point, the tears began to dry up, and the gasps for air had calmed down, allowing you to be able to breathe normally again. The only time you had physically moved was to cling to Hoseok, despite not wanting to tell him what was swirling around in your mind, you didn’t want him to leave you.

A blob.

You’re just a fat blob.

Do you really need to eat lunch today?

“Make it stop,” you whimpered, fingers clenching on the pillow behind Hoseok as your fist dug into his back.

His body jerked at the new bump but he ignored that, choosing to focus on what you were saying. You didn’t know it, but the entire time you had been crying, tears had fallen silently down his cheeks as he watched them fall into your hair. He hated seeing you in pain.

“Make what stop love?” He softly asked, moving a hand to be able to stroke your cheek.

“My mind,” you cried, not yelling, but your voice cracked as the emotions swirling inside you forced it to raise. “Please, make it stop. Shut it off, anything, please.  Please, make it stop!”

If the world was to crash down around him, Hoseok knew that it would only take seconds, or even minutes, for it to crash and end him. Six months ago, you had agreed to go on a blind date set up by a friend of yours who had gotten a tattoo done by Hoseok. It had been a spur of the moment, neither of you really searching for anyone, but the thought of being in the company of another person instead of alone had tempted both of you enough to say yes.

Six months ago, you became his entire world and here you were, crashing around him, begging for him to stop whatever it was that was going on in your mind. Something that he had no feasible solution for. If he knew how to fight the demons that only you were able to see, he’d do it in a heartbeat. But he couldn’t, and knowing that, had him feeling like he was failing you in every possible way imaginable.

Gently, Hoseok shifted your body and moved you next to him on the bed, and when you tried to look away, he cupped the side of your face with a tilt in his direction. There was no avoiding in seeing the pools of tears building up and over his eyes.

“Tell me what’s wrong love,” he whispered, stroking your cheek once more. “You’re scaring me, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to fix this.”

God, he was hurting. You hadn’t expected him to react in such a way.

Lie. Tell him you’re fine. He’ll believe it if you believe it.

You’re fine.

Everything’s fine.

Wetting your lips, you repeatedly opened and closed them, feeling like a damned fish unable to breathe and in search of water. Instead of suffocating, you were drowning.

“I…”

An ache built up in your stomach, reminding you that you truly hadn’t eaten anything since last night. Twisting and curling, the sharpness of running on empty was the cold kiss from a toxic lover. Memories of binging on food after midnight cuddled you from behind, weighing you down with iron shackles locked around your stomach.

“I…”

Skip lunch, eat a little bit of dinner so he won’t worry.

Tell him that you’re fine.

“Please love,” Hoseok begged, his fingers smoothing back locks of hair that had begun to fall in your face. “I can’t help if you don’t tell me. You don’t need to carry this by yourself.”

Lie dammit.

“I’m starving,” you whispered, watching his eyebrows pull together, fingers pausing on your skin but you reached up with a shaky hand to cover his, gripping tightly. “It hurts. So much Hoseok, but I don’t want to eat. I tell myself that it’s better if it hurts, but I…I can’t anymore…I can’t.”

The leeches were shrieking in your mind, white tips of a burning fire were touching them and they were dropping to the ground, yet the fire didn’t hurt one bit. For the first time in so long, the shackles of your secret came undone allowing you to step away from the broken path you had set yourself on.

Hoseok had turned his hand to run his thumb across your knuckles, the realization of what you meant hitting him. Eyes watering up, he opened his mouth to speak, only there were no words that felt right. You were hurting so much right now, the last thing he wanted to do was say the wrong thing without meaning to.

But like a dam that had suddenly burst, the words that he couldn’t find, were flooding out of your mouth. “I…I was so good, better than I have been in years, but last night and this morning, it was one thing after another and I couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t stop my mind from going there and it was all I could think about and I…I don’t want to think like that anymore. I don’t wanna be that person anymore.”

“Last night,” Hoseok softly repeated. What had he done the night before, a night that he had thought was so perfect, that was able to nearly cripple you this morning? The idea that he hurt you without even knowing it made him clench down on the inside of his cheeks.

You shook your head, knowing that you weren’t saying it right, implying that it had been his fault when it hadn’t. “While you were gone, I was showering and I…it’s so fucking stupid, but I saw my reflection and your note saying you were at the gym I just, I just started comparing myself to you. You’re always working out, doing what you can to stay fit and it was like years of self-hatred suddenly came back, reminding me of how gross I was, how fat I am and I couldn’t stop it…it was like once it came back it wasn’t going to leave and I – ”

Except you didn’t get to finish. Between the tears once again clogging your throat and Hoseok yanking you back to his chest, his shoulders shaking as he started crying because there was no way in hell he was able to hold it in anymore. The words died off, but you both knew where it was heading.

The fabric of his shirt that you wore wrinkled under his hands, the soft fabric of the towel that he wore grazed your legs. How it hadn’t managed to come undone from all the moving around was a tiny thought that stuck inside your brain.

“Don’t.” Hoseok’s arms tightened around you, almost painfully, but his grip was in only one arm as the mattress dipped underneath your bodies, and the next thing you knew he was pulling you to sit on his lap as he sat up with his back against the headboard. His eyes were rimmed red, cheeks flushed. There wasn’t a time where you recalled being able to compare his eyes to an ocean. Not until now at least.

His chest was heaving as he leaned his head back against the wood with a soft thump, bottom lip trembling while trying to form together something to say. Words. He needed words. “I…you never…not once did you say anything to me.”

“Because I was good when we met,” you cried. “I hadn’t been doing anything, and I’ve been so good this entire time, but this morning it was like…like I was suddenly drowning in it because it’s always been like this, always coming in waves. And I wanted to start it all over again.”

Despite how much it hurt, how hungry it made you, there was that painful satisfaction of seeing the numbers go down on that evil scale. To be able to wear the clothes that you never could before. The way your stomach aches and cries out at one, two in the morning yet you deny it the simplest thing it wanted, because for a period of time, you were the one in charge. You had control over what was happening in your life and it…it was fucking addicting.

“But you’re already so small.”

The tears had slowed down, always slipping down his cheeks faster when he thought of how long you’ve been hurting, and he had never known.

Bottom lip trembling, somehow, you managed the weakest of smiles, voice cracking as you spoke. “I know.”

You always had been, but the reflection you saw in the mirror, never was real. For years you were purging yourself of a you that never once existed.

The person that Hoseok saw when you thought he wasn’t looking, the one who gently swayed to her favorite music, who had a love affair with words and their meanings but more often than not forgot them. The woman he saw who, on their third date hurried him over to the park to watch the fireflies dance in the night sky because they were the only type of bugs that you liked, and the woman who he reached out for when waking up first thing in the morning even if he hadn’t spent the night at your apartment, was not the same one that you saw.

You saw a version of yourself that you hated, so much so that the only way you would be happy with your reflection, was to destroy yourself.

Instead of speaking, Hoseok simply hugged you tightly to him, resting his head against yours as he felt you curl yourself around him. To say that this wasn’t how he had pictured this morning to go was a mild statement, but as he left a gentle kiss on your shoulder, he simply wanted to love you, and show you what it was like to be loved.

Time ticked by slowly, but when Hoseok finally lifted his head off yours, the tears had stopped falling leaving his eyes itchy and dry. He barely glanced at the clock on his nightstand. Instead, his gaze went to the black jewelry box he had set there. With everything that’s happened, he forgot that he had even picked it up.

“It’s – it’s not my place to tell you what to think,” he softly said, reaching over to retrieve the box. He felt you shifting and knew that you were watching him, a glance at you showed the curious frown you wore. “But I think you’re wrong. To me, you’re not gross. You’re not overweight. Ever since that blind date, six months ago, you’re the only woman who I care about.”

Without any ceremony, he held the box out for you to take, gently smiling and nodding when you looked up at him as if to ask if it really was for you.

Carefully, you opened the lid, feeling your heart nearly collapse at the sight of the necklace that delicately laid a bronze gold heart on the white fabric. On the side sat a tiny firefly, and in the center in elegant cursive read, ‘You’re the reason why my heart beats.’

“I love you,” Hoseok finally confessed. Lifting a hand, he brushed the hair back out of your face, his fingers gently grazing your cheek as he did so. “All I want is for you to be happy, love. You mean the world to me, and I want to help you through this. To me, you’re the most beautiful woman in the world and I wouldn’t change a single thing about you, but now that I know that’s not what you see, then I’ll help you. So that one day, you might be able to see what I see. Whenever that may be.”

His image blurred once more. Instead of hiding your face from him, or wanting to get away in general, you reached up to pull him down for a kiss despite the tears. Each one was short and sweet, but like an addiction, you kept going back for just one more.

Even if he didn’t understand it completely, or maybe he did, but he was willing to learn to help, because that wasn’t a life you wanted anymore. You just…you just didn’t know what to do, or how to do it by yourself. Not when those leeches were able to corrupt such an amazing night in seconds.

Hoseok wasn’t one to break away from a kiss but this time, he leaned back to take the necklace from you, undoing the clasp and hooking it on for you. The heart rested right in the middle of your chest. Right where it belonged.

“Now, I know I promised to not bring home any work,” Hoseok said, gently wiping away a few stray tears on your cheek. “But I remember you talking about getting that tattoo done one day. If you want, I can do it for you.”

“I never decided where though.”

His eyes softened. “I heard someone talking about this thing called the butterfly project. The idea is to draw a butterfly in the place where you’d hurt yourself, and by having it there, it’s supposed to help stop those urges. Maybe…maybe we can do something like that.”

The room fell silent.

You had been wanting to get your fireflies tattooed for years now. They were a favorite reminder of a simpler time. When the world was kind and beautiful and not harsh like you had painfully learned it to be. Sitting here with Hoseok, he served as the reminder that despite the hurt, there was always hope nearby. Whether it was from him, the world, or even deep within yourself.

Hope and love had a funny way of coming together in the darkest hours of our lives.

The tattoo gun buzzed loudly in the kitchen.

Hoseok pressed his lips together, eyebrows pulling in concentration as his gloved hands skillfully moved the machine while he began the process of outlining the cluster of fireflies on your thigh. When this was all over, there would be fireflies flying around at dusk on your body forever.

It was something you loved, in a spot that you passionately disliked, but even now you smiled. Because how could you look at something you loved with hatred?

None of this was going to be easy. Gazing at Hoseok, a small smile appeared. Perhaps he felt your gaze on him, but as he lifted the gun to wipe the area, he glanced up at you. A soft smile instantly appeared.

This wasn’t going to suddenly fix things. That was far from the truth. But that was okay because in reality, that was life. There was the good, the bad, and everything in between that got thrown at you.

Life isn’t perfect, but with Hoseok…it felt like it was.

#kwritersworldnet #ultkpop #starryktown #wonho #Monsta X #hoseok #lee hoseok #wonho fic #wonho fanfiction #wonho fan fic #wonho fan fiction #monsta x smut #monsta x fluff #monsta x angst #wonho smut #wonho fluff #wonho angst #monsta x fanfic #monsta x fanfiction #monsta x scenarios #monsta x imagines #monsta x wonho #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #fanfiction #kpop fandom #monsta x wonho fanfic #monsta x wonho fanfiction

[marriedmormon]

Monica

Posted Sept 2020 Still in quarantine with no end in sight. All I have right now are my memories and since I have a minute alone I was thinking of another affair from the summer of 2015 (I think) that I should share.  Monica was the 2nd married girl I fucked from the same job (see Elsie). Unlike Elsie, Monica was Mormon. Neither girl knew that I was with the other and they still don’t know. Monica struggled a little with BDD (Body Dysmorphic Disorder) and some real mental insecurities about what she looked like, so she truly compensated by spending time in the gym. Because of that,  Monica was really into keeping fit and working out, as was I. Although she felt unsexy, fat, or whatever she thought, it was all in her head.  We talked a lot about our workouts and physical goals but nothing ever sexual. All of that changed one day when our conversation somehow turned towards abs. I mentioned that it was my goal to have abs again like I had when I was her age (7 year difference). Of course the key to abs is a strict diet or artificial assistance and since I no longer had the discipline for a strict diet and I didn’t want my balls to shrink from steroids, I was only pipe dreaming. She laughed and suggest increasing my cardio by swimming.  I asked her if she swam and she sent me some pics of her competitive days. I was completely in love with her body. You would have thought these were photoshopped they were that perfect. In my innocent compliments, she felt embarrassed or insecure so I kept with the compliments. Not knowing exactly what I said, I definitely struck a chord. Whatever it was it was exactly what she needed/wanted to hear.  After that day, our friendship turned up a notch and she was almost fishing for compliments every day. She would send me pics of her working out or where ever she was biking/hiking/running that day. I would always show interest or envy and always complimenting. Monica wasn’t the girl she was in her prime, but she also was still very damn sexy. One day she was doing a back workout and sent me a video of her doing lat pulls. I told here “I didn’t know that shoulders could be that sexy!” I could hear her blushing via text. And a few mins later I got a pick of her flexing her back and shoulders without a top on so I could see all of here tone. I told her that I needed to see the front to really get the “fullness of her toneness”. Ask and ye shall receive! Viola she sent me a topless pic. I asked for more but didn’t get any. It truly became a digital affair at this point. At this point we had two conversations. One on FB, and one on a secret phone app. The FB one was totally to keep up appearances so suspicions wouldn’t arise. But the fun one was in the app. We did it all at this point. Pics, Videos, sexting, etc. I told her that I wanted to fuck her so bad but there were the complications of spouses. Finally each of us was able to get away using the excuse that we were going to go to a High School to do some stair training. I told my wife that it had to be in the evening because it was way too hot to do stairs with the sun up. The night came and we met up at the track. She was wearing tight running shorts and a sports bra. We walked around the track a few times warming each other with some dirty talking and flirting and grabbing each other. I told her that I had always wanted to make out on the 50-yard line of the stadium, so she’s said let’s do it. We walked over to the 50-yard line right in the middle of the field  and started going at it. I immediately stuck my hands down and started playing with her ass. In about 3 seconds I had one hand buried in her amazingly wet pussy the other gripping her ass. She wanted in on the fun as well, and started stroking my cock through my shorts. After a couple of minutes of this she pulled them down, pushed me to the ground and started giving me a blow job there in the middle of the field. It was dark enough but still light enough outside to be seen.  I laid there, my arms behind my head, a hot chick bouncing her mouth up and down on my cock, thinking the world couldn’t get any better than this. As I was laying there I noticed two figures walk into my field of view. I tapped Monica and she slid up and put her knee across my waist so the people couldn’t see. Another couple was there to just hang out and make out in the stadium. It was hilarious! Monica just snuggled up to me and waited for them to leave. After they walked away I suggested to her that maybe we should go someplace a little more private. There was a church nearby with a gazebo I knew was dark and secluded. When we got there we kissed standing up as I quickly pulled her shorts down.  Then I laid her on a bench, got down on my knees and dove my tongue into her pussy. I loved eating her pussy and Monica had a wonderfully tangy flavor, so I proceeded to eat her.  After a few minutes and I knew she had came, her juices were dripping from my chin. I dropped my shorts and moved on top of her to share her flavor with her, and as I did so I pushed my cock into her pussy. She allowed me to thrust there for a bit, then suggested we swap places. I lay down on my back and she climbed on top of me sliding her wonderfully wet pussy down my cock. She proceeded to ride me, moaning and having a great time. I was very relaxed, letting my hands roam all over her body, managing to finally get my hands on her tits.  I had one hand on her chest and used my other thumb to stroke her clit. Occasionally she would bend down and we would tangle tongues some more, but mostly she enjoyed sitting up and riding me. I put my hands on her hips and was enjoying the feeling of being inside her, when I began to feel the pressure build for my impending orgasm. As I reached the point of no return, I told her I was going to cum. At this point she released me from her pussy and slid down and took my cock into her mouth. She squeezed the base of my cock as she bounced her mouth up and down, until I started to come down her throat. I was so amazed that she swallowed it all like a trooper! We cuddled for a bit but didn’t want to raise suspicions being gone too long on our “Workout” so we parted ways and went home.  We continued to have some digital fun but she always felt a little guilt about what happened that night. A few times we talked about doing it again but never did. I am not sure if it was guilt or if it was just too difficult to get away again. Neither of us still work at the same place so we have grown apart. We are still FB friends but all our conversations are public now and on FB only. I really wish that we had more than just one time together. Here is a link to a pic of Monica. It is the only one I have of her without her face. Sorry if you wanted to see her face. https://www.flickr.com/photos/123073719@N03/48481283962/in/album-72157703553109144/ 

#naughtymormon #nsfwmormon #marriedmormondtf #affair #truestory #naughtymormonconfessions #mormonsexstories #tumblrfirstward #mormon #marriedmormon #true story #truestories #mormonsexstory #cheating #mormonaffair #mormonpussy

[anaslife]

About the 'you lost weight' comment from your friend. Do not think of it as a lie, what would she accomplish by lying about that? It's probably your low self-esteem. If she's your friend I think it's more of a push/encouragement, something like 'i see a difference, good job, keep it up'. Even if it's hard for you to think of it as that, it's more encouraging for you to treat it this way - more healthy mindset, to make it easier for you to go forward. You will feel better if there is even the smallest of progess :)

Thank you for taking the time to write this to me! Whoever you are, I appreciate you. The thing is that my logical/rational side totally understands that my friend has no reason to lie to me, especially since she doesn’t know about my ED/BDD. And I realize my eating disorder/body dysmorphic disorder fuck with my mind and make me think people are lying to me about how I look. The truth is that I have lost weight according to the scale—I’m down 29lbs in the last few months and I recognize that’s a notable amount in most people’s eyes. A fire was lit under my ass a few months ago when I weighed myself for the first time this year and saw my weight was at the highest it’s ever been (due to many reasons, mostly depression and then quarantine/not being as active/binges happening more). So I’ve been actively trying to lose weight since then and when I heard my friend say I look like I lost weight, I guess I felt conflicting things. On one hand, I was very happy to hear that my efforts are visible but on the other hand, my ED/BDD discounts it by saying it’s not that much of a difference. And then there’s the thought that even with all the layers I wear, my friend could still tell that I lost weight so that means people notice my body and ig I don’t like being seen in such a way. It means my secrets are more visible and that scares me, my ED wants to keep it all a secret.

#tw eating disorder #anorexia #bulimia #eating disorder diary #eating disorder #anorexic #bulimic #eating disorder problems #ed #ana #anamia #ana diary #ana thoughts #tw ana blog #ana blog #tw ana thoughts #tw ana mention #tw anamia #tw ana #tw ana diary #tw ed content #edthoughts #edproblems #eating disorder thoughts #tw weight #anorekic #anorekcia #anorexik #anorecya #anorexja

[songketalliance]

“Kurus Sudah Lawa”: My Experience with Anorexia

“People could compliment my looks all they want when I got thin, but most days I couldn’t see it, and if I managed to feel good looking in the mirror, it would only last a brief moment because I knew about all the little flaws, the stubborn fat and stretchmarks I was hiding underneath my clothes.”

A contribution by Iddie Mo

People appear surprised when they find out how I used to be anorexic, either because I’m a pretty big guy, or simply because I am a guy.

While my mother was pregnant with me, she rapidly gained weight. The doctor felt it was necessary to conduct a caesarean two months prematurely- basically, yes, I was born that way.

There’s this idea of anorexia that people have, been guilty of it myself, where the person afflicted must be extremely sickly looking to ‘qualify’; the expression “you’re skin and bones” would have to be a literal description, or else, is it really anorexia?

My body didn’t look skeletal when the doctor gave me six months to live.

It’s easy to blame the media for unhealthy representations of an ‘ideal body’. While I won’t completely dismiss its influence, my main source of criticism growing up came from family, teachers and peers. These weren’t imaginary people on a television screen, pictures on some ad or magazine cover; they were people I had to interact with every day, the ones I’m supposed to trust and learn from the most.

In kindergarten, a girl had refused to sit next to me because she thought my fat was disgusting. There’re home videos of me crying because someone told me my hair was messy or my teeth weren’t white enough. I was an annoyingly sensitive child who learnt very early on that having good looks meant being respected.

Being big boned and having a very slow metabolism is an unfortunate combination, top it off with a bit of stress eating.

For years, family would pinch my body, waddle my chin, teachers would randomly ask me about my meals and laugh or smirk afterwards.

Eventually enough was enough and I got myself a workout VCD pushing myself to move more in a short period of time than I ever had before in my life.

It started out alright, but I wasn’t seeing the results that I wanted, so I worked-out longer. Instead of doing the work-out segments partially, depending on the day of the week like the instructional video said to do, I just did the whole shebang every day. More work, more payoff, right? “No pain, no gain”- so I made sure to feel pain.

‘Obsessive’ would be an understatement, if I missed a day, I’d double my work-out time the next day to make up for it. After some time, if I felt like my body could withstand the pain a bit more, I would take advantage of adrenaline and powered on.

There were days when I’d be working out for fourteen hours.

Logically, to “aid” my terrible metabolism, I’d have to burn off more than what I consumed, so I consumed less and then, illogically, way less.

My diet initially consisted of items like tuna, chillies, high-fibre crackers, cucumber sushi and a cheese cube. I would practice restraint by drinking lots of water and seeing how many days I could stretch these foods for, rationing them as if it were the apocalypse or something. Days where food wouldn’t be touched at all became more and more frequent as the illness progressed. Even when I experienced internal bleeding my crusade against fat persisted.

At some point, even being around the vicinity of food made me ill, the smell of wafting oily food cooking was especially bad. It felt like the oil in the air was attacking me inside and out, I had this disgusting image of the oils infiltrating my body and squeezing out like pus out of my pores. It made me want to rip my skin off; food was poison.

I was getting really skinny, but I have big bones so with clothes on I looked “normal”, but I still felt fat. I couldn’t believe I was thin, I really couldn’t “believe” it. The bit of fat that people would pinch was still goddamn there wasn’t it? So I must not be doing enough, I must still be fat.

You know those movies? Where the girl used to be fat and then she lost a lot of weight and she’s suddenly gorgeous and the target of affection by practically everyone around her? That obviously didn’t happen to me like in the movies, still;

I was treated better.

Folks spoke to me nicer and I would turn heads.

The ones who knew me since childhood were surprised and ecstatic that I had lost all that weight, I looked good and they didn’t hesitate to sing praises.

I’d even overhear people talking positively behind my back. It’s one thing to be complimented to your face, but when you catch people whispering behind you, saying stuff like how attractive you are, it is a huge ego boost.

I remember walking into the kitchen and my father suddenly having this big beaming smile plastered on his face. He told me I was beautiful. I gave him a sheepish smile asked him if he was sure he didn’t mean ‘handsome’. “Kurus sudah lawa”.

To my knowledge, my father had never called me beautiful. To my knowledge, my father hadn’t called me beautiful since then.

The euphoria from being complimented didn’t last too long though as I’d get too preoccupied with my ‘flaws’, too self-conscious.

“Could they see my fatty folds under this shirt? I should’ve worn two layers”.

“Can they see my stretchmarks? Are my arms waddling?”

“Shouldn’t have worn such a tight T-shirt, I must look like a stuffed sausage”.

Find myself subconsciously rubbing my “problem areas”, pinching the fat, scratching it. Sound familiar?

People could compliment my looks all they want, but most days I couldn’t see it, and if I managed to feel good looking in the mirror, it would only last a brief moment because I knew about all the little flaws, the stubborn fat and stretchmarks I was hiding underneath my clothes. I couldn’t seem to get satisfied, so my diet and exercise got even more intense, hoping everything would tighten up already, until the day I collapsed.

I was walking around in a supermarket and a woman in a yoghurt drink stand was offering samples. I thought to myself “Well I’ve been good with my diet. I hadn’t had anything in a while, might as well treat myself”. I accepted a strawberry yoghurt drink sample and that’s when it happened.

My vision started to go askew, my head spun; I tried to walk it off.

I fainted not long after.

The doctor didn’t hold anything back. He told me that if I didn’t stop treating my body like shit, I could possibly die in six months.

Should I have been shocked considering how badly I treated my body? I never thought the whole “you have six months to live” thing will ever be said to me, it sounded like something that would only happen in movies. I’ve seen pictures of women with anorexia, where they are so skinny and frail; it looked like a poke would break them apart. So I thought I was fine, my bones did not jut out as much as theirs, I still have “fat”- how could I be dying? This was my thought process, this was how I justified harming my body.

“Just eat” was easier said than done, most foods made me feel ill, but I had to get better. I started the recovery process by force-feeding myself small amounts of food, making an effort to keep the nausea at bay. Detested the idea of eating oily foods again, but I made a point to do it, because I knew I’d be confronted with all sorts and I needed to be okay with that. It wasn’t just my body I needed to fix; I had to heal my mind as well.

After the nausea issue lessened, my mind went through a tug-of-war, between all of my previous bad eating habits that included, the ones I’ve accumulated with anorexia nervosa and the stress eating I had before.

Took approximately two years after the incident in the supermarket, for me to be able to choose a meal for the taste, and not because I felt I needed it just for sustenance. This was a milestone for me- I considered myself ‘healed enough’, because realistically, there may never be a day when I’d be so completely comfortable in my own body; I am only human after all.

That being said, there were instances where I would catch my reflection and thought “I look good” and I let myself revel in it and work hard to push away the negative thoughts telling me I’m being so vain- I spent most of my life hating my body, I refuse to guilt myself for loving it.

In fact, I’ll go off on a tangent right now to overshare a little more and appreciate: my legs. I am a man who is proud of his damn sexy legs, these gams have to carry the rest of my (heavy ass) weight every day and it must’ve made them toned as fuck, my calves are chiselled; if Michael Angelo had a calf fetish, he’d love mine too.

Moving on.

When the weight came back, people’s attitudes did as well.

“What a shame” they’d say.

“Masa atu kurus sudah, eat less!”

“Ah, kau besar sebab malas tu, mesti exercise”.

Being big seems to give people this impression that they have some kind of right to explicitly voice out their negative thoughts and assumptions about you.

You’d think people would back off commenting on my weight after what had gone on, some kindly have, but the truth of the matter was most of them didn’t know or even considered anorexia a possibility. It was the early 2000’s eating disorders were still considered typically a ‘female issue’ and men need to ‘toughen up’ or ‘walk it off’. For the longest time, I didn’t say anything and partially convinced myself it wasn’t a big problem because, as a man, I should be able to handle it. So there would be those who rolled their eyes, not realising that despite being much heavier, I was the healthiest I’d ever been.

Now, I’m not saying that one should be delusional and dismiss the health benefits that come with being a certain weight, but while my body’s not perfect, I wholeheartedly believe that I have grown into a state of mind which is able to find a balance I could live with.

My body and mind are my responsibility.

To anyone who is going through any form of body dysmorphic disorder, know that your body and your mind is how you experience the world, no one else gets to be you. You can’t truly help someone who isn’t ready to help themselves, so when you recognise you’ve got a problem and you’re ready to get better, take control of your life, healing by your terms. You will have the biggest impact on yourself, be aware and choose wisely- understand and discover what that means to you- it is in my honest opinion, the best way to find some kind of inner peace.

Kurus sudah lawa? Sweetheart, have you seen these legs? =)

A contribution by Iddie Mo

Songket Alliance urges those with mental health conditions to seek out help, which are available in the form of school counsellors, in selected private clinics, as well as major health centres including RIPAS.

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#brunei #writing #mental health #contribution

[dreadhaus-literature]

{A/N} Oh, boy.

I...want to write, but I am empty, and trying to drag myself out of the hole I was pushed into, so I don’t have any emotions to put to paper. And because I’m such an emotional person, if my heart’s not in it, no matter how badly I want to write, I can’t. I started a good prompt today and I desperately want to finish, it’s like an itch I need to scratch, but I opened it up and knew I’d be forcing if I tried so I just proofed it and then closed it again. I’ll try tomorrow, when the world is a little less weird.

No, that isn’t a Weird World reference. I’m too strung out to be funny, go find Wade or Peter for that. /half-flops her hand in some random direction.

I don’t even know why I came to talk, here. I guess because I’m struggling with feeling like I need to do be doing something--you know, that mood I find myself in, 24/7. But I’m recalling what Monica sent me that time, about the reason why we feel like that, and what to do if we do--how to manage feeling like all my time has to be productive. I don’t have it in me to be productive, today. I feel like hammered shit, like I discovered something about myself today--as I get better, physically and emotionally, it also makes me more susceptible to really bad low points. I’m probably explaining this like an asshole because I’m all over the place, but what I mean is, I haven’t had a fat day in a really long time, I don’t really get those anymore. I have my dysmorphic days, where I can’t tell what I look like in the mirror, but I don’t have straight up fat days anymore, like I used to have pre-surgery. So when my body was called into question today, I fucking freaked out. I have been doing so well I thought I was past all that shit, all those days of being touted like the token family fatass, and my body dysmorphia was sounding the FUCKING ALARM, like my brain was that episode of Spongebob where he was burning everything in his brain now about fine dining and breathing. All the sudden everything was thrown into question and how I was feeling like I was better, that I looked better??? Nope. Couldn’t possibly be true, because other people, who can see me, say otherwise.

It’s apart of a larger issue that I never trust anything I say, like I can’t affect or change my own mind because I was raised to believe other people know better and matter more than I do, so when the comment was made, the only thing I heard was, “You’re fat and you’re a giant and you’re an idiot for thinking otherwise.”

I cried for hours. Hours. I’d be fine and then I’d start crying. Got to the point my eyes hurt and I had such an awful headache I couldn’t stay sitting up anymore. I stopped crying after I got up, but I don’t know how I feel, now. I still feel weird being around--oh, yeah, which was another huge issue. I’m noticing when things like this happen, now, I start to want to disappear. Not necessarily suicide, I literally want to not have ever existed and I do not want to exist. I don’t want anyone to know I’m alive or around, I don’t want anyone to talk to me or look at me, and it’s about the only time I pull away from my FL because I cannot stand the thought of one of those perfect people knowing my giant disgusting ass exists. That’s what it is. It isn’t about other people, it’s about myself and that I feel so fucking gross the thought of anyone seeing me makes me want to throw up. I was sick to my stomach when I logged into the Client. Even after I got up from lying down and started talking and was present on Client I was feeling squirmy and shy at the thought of being around where people can see me.

I’ve said this before but I’m honestly terrified another person is gonna look at me and say what I’ve been hearing all my life, already. If my family is fine to tell me these things and say these things there’s literally nothing stopping anyone else from feeling or thinking the same thing. I honestly do not know how many more times I can be made to feel this way and walk away from it. And like I said, as I move on from my pre-surgery body and I start to get better, these moments hit me harder and harder than they used to. It’s like, if you have a bruise and you get poked in it, yeah it hurts but it’s a bruise, you expect it to. Turn that bruise into a gunshot and then let it heal, let it scar over, then get shot in it again, through the scar tissue. It’s gonna hurt worse because you thought that shit was over and done with--nope. Joke’s on you.

And maybe that joke really is my own dumbass fault. I mean, I don’t think I’m a stick or anything. I don’t want to be a stick. I do wish I was shorter but whatever, I’ll She-Hulk it up because I can’t cut off my fucking legs, but I guess this is just what I look like. This is just me. I guess I just didn’t like being reminded that the me I see, that I want to be, is not what some other people see.

Reality is fucking disgusting and I hate it.

Ah, there it is. I want to cry, again. Today fucking blows, man. It really bothers me that I’m pretty much fine any given day but I’m surrounded by family who have always seen the need to grab my ankles and drag me down for one reason or another. I was doing just fucking fine, I haven’t had any issues lately and then this shit happens and I lose an entire day to hiding because I would rather die than have to be a human being. And it’s not even my own fault. I’d be fine on my own, I’m normally an annoying ray of sunshine but I guess today I’m an annoyingly silent hermit crab.

Gonna try not to do the stupid thing I sometimes do when I’m upset and stay up for no reason. I think it’s late enough for me to dose up and go to sleep, and I’m going to take advantage of that.

Today sucked but tomorrow won’t.

#{A/N} : commentary

[myrecoverylife]

I’m supposed to write an apology letter to my body. I guess my first question is what is there to apologize for. My eating disorder? Self harming since I was 16? According to my old therapist, I was butchering my arms and legs. I was covered in scars, and I cut over the existing scars to create new ones - if I had to estimate what it was like at the worst point, I probably had over 250 cuts all over my body. I guess I do have something to apologize for. What about my eating disorder? It seems like I would more have to apologize to my brain for putting it on a hamster wheel. I don't really think I can apologize to something I despise - and I truly despise my body and everything about it. That being said, I wonder if its really me that hates everything about my body, or if its my ED voice that spews hatred toward everything about my body. I guess its my ED voice, but I have a pretty rough time separating my thoughts from what Ed thinks. I wonder if I would believe that I had something to apologize about if my body showed signs of being medically harmed. So far it hasn't - and I guess what I have left to apologize for is me. For hurling insults toward myself and my body more often than not. Fat ugly whale. Giant ugly ass. Screw my life. If I were someone else I’d want to die if staying alive meant that I had to look like me. Those are only a few examples of the things I tell myself on a regular basis. I always think about how my mom did her best to break me down with her words (and fists). I never considered the fact that I do the very same thing to myself - I break myself down. The shit I feed myself every day about the way I look and about what kind of person I am basically consists of me verbally abusing myself. I tell myself that I’m a terrible person, and that people who are friends with me do so out of pity. I tell myself that I’ll never make anything of myself because I’m stupid, fat, and ugly. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to stop beating myself up. I wonder why I do this to myself. I don’t have any answers -  I can’t apologize to my body for the fact that it happens to be attached to me and that if I’m completely honest, no matter how must weight I lose I’ll always be overly critical of what I look like and probably have a totally dysmorphic view of what I look like.

#tw #eating disorder #ed #ed thoughts #ed life #recovery life #ed recovery #therapy #trigger warning #trigger #triggered #therapy hw #recovery hw #my sad life #ana #mia #apology #apology letter #i'm sorry #i'm sorry i exist #critical #scars #sh #self harm #cutting #cut #cutting myself #self harm recovery #sh recovery

[tashabilities]

Lil Duval stankin ass was bodyshaming women on IG Saturday morning.

It was in the comments of one particular post that I learned that Cushing('s?) syndrome/disease is the name for the body shape that, in my head, I see myself as having, if that makes sense.

Body dysmorphic disorder is some real shit, cause I've always seen myself as shaped like someone suffering from this disorder, even thought I had it for a minute.

Now I know what it's called.

[iamsashagay]

Revisiting My Body Dysmorphic Disorder Diagnosis

Those of you who know me or have followed my online presence over the years will know that when I was a teenager, I was hospitalized for an eating disorder. I was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa with bulimic tendencies, PTSD, Body Dysmorphic Disorder, and got some additional help with some substance abuse issues. That was some six years ago, and I’ve been in recovery the majority of that time (with some slips here and there because nobody is perfect), sober for the last three years, and my PTSD has been largely relegated to the past.

What I hadn’t quite realized, though, was that my BDD wasn’t something I had left behind in my colourful youth. I had assumed (making an ass of u and me) that my BDD was tied to my eating disorder; that my body dysmorphia was linked solely to a desire I had to simply not exist, to rid the world of my presence. This past weekend, though, a friend pointed out during a late-night (early morning?) conversation that the way I talked about parts of my body and face wasn’t normal - that how I talked sounded like body dysmorphia.

It wasn’t something I had ever really thought about - everybody has parts of themselves they want to change, do they not? Things they perceive as flaws regardless of what someone else might say, because who really is going to be bluntly honest about someone else’s flaws? The more I thought about it, though, the more I realized that a lot of the things I fixate on as being ‘wrong’ or that I wish I could somehow ‘fix’ are tied to more than just my vanity (a trait I am very aware of). When I was younger, I assumed that my body image and the eating disorder I developed were a result of a single incident; they could be traced back to a static moment in time. That was the shallow understanding of my mental illness I used to get back to a healthier place in my life.

Perhaps now would be a good place to sum up (some of) the things I see in the mirror that ~grind my gears~. The first is my lower torso, which is never defined or small enough to make me happy, never as narrow and taut as I would like. I don’t mean in the sense that I want a tightly muscled lower back and a six-pack (although I wouldn’t complain about having those), but in the sense that I wish the actual shape of my body lended itself to a more petite waist - that rather than a rectangular form, my body would taper into more of an hourglass-esque shape, where the flesh around my middle would have a defined shape. It’s something I’ve never been good at articulating - I am by no means overweight, so talking about it leads to responses of “but you’re already skinny” and “you don’t have a stomach”. That’s not the issue - anatomically I understand that my stomach will never realistically be 100% flat - nor is that the root of my disenchantment with that part of my body. My issue lies in that the sides of my torso run in a straight line down from my chest to my thighs, without any ‘tuck’ in at the waist.

In discussions about plastic surgery (we all have those, right?), my #1 “fix” has for a long while been my forehead - an area I rarely meet with understanding about. Everyone tends to be like “okay yeah I’d get a nose job” or “I’d love to fix my double chin” and get why somebody would want those things. I want my browbone shaved down, to lay smooth with the rest of my face, to blend smoothly into the sides of my face. It’s an idea that horrifies a lot of people - to literally want to scrape bone out of my face for vanity. But it’s something that I see every day that I have a really tough time reconciling with how I want to look - how I feel I should look. It’s something people can’t see when they look at me, because it’s not a “flaw” per se. When I look at pictures, though, I see a heavy brow that obscures my eyes - from the side, I see a massive ridge that detracts from the rest of my face, a mountain clouding out the light I can find in the rest of my features. When I sit and think about it, I realize that my forehead is a solid barometer for my body dysmorphia - it’s a perceived flaw that I magnify beyond what most anyone else would recognize. Nobody has ever pointed out my browbone to me or concurred that I could do something about it - unlike, say, my (play-doh) nose. My fixation with my brow dovetails rather nicely into how I see my eye area. Again, to me, my eyes are too sunken, too closed off. Again, not something most people can see when I try to explain to them what I see and what I would get fixed if I had the resources and the time.

There’s probably a half dozen other things I could nip, tuck, shave, or reshape if I wanted to make a comprehensive list - but the ones I’ve mentioned are good indicators in my view of how my BDD has stayed with me over the years. When they’re written down in front of me, it seems apparent that my body issues have roots not just in my past, but in my gender identity. The features of my body and face I take most offense to are not simply products of my vanity, but markers of a masculinity I don’t always feel comfortable with. The idea that my body should cinch in at the waist is the result of a feminine ideal I will never obtain, while my heavy brow bone is a hallmark of a ‘male’ face. If you google Facial Feminization Surgery, forehead recontouring is something that features prominently. Forehead shape is a key differentiation between men and women, which would explain my fixation on that area of myself. It keeps me from slipping in between genders as seamlessly as I would often like to. The shape and set of my eyes, similarly, is traditionally masculine - something that prevents me from replicating the feminine eye makeup looks that I aspire to.

Honestly this entire revelation has me absolutely shook. I’m amazed that I can finally link my unhappiness with my body/face to them not matching the fluidity in my mind. It explains why no matter how much weight I ever lost and how ‘skinny’ my stomach was, I was never satisfied with my overall shape. It explains why, despite all the work and healing I’ve done, I’m prone to bouts of angst about how my body looks and why I often find myself grappling with disordered tendencies despite (and I’m saying this with complete sincerity) being at peace with my body weight. Literally all these years I’ve thought my eating disorder contributed to my BDD...and now it seems almost painfully apparent that it was my BDD that probably contributed to my eating disorder.

In closing I just want to clarify that while I do identify on the trans* spectrum, I’m not interested in any sort of medical transition - I’m happy being a queer boy. I’m just suddenly a little more aware of some things I hadn’t really thought about before. It’s another piece of the puzzle.

Someone take me to Bond - I’m shaken.

#body dysmorphic disorder #body dysmorphia #gender #anorexia nervosa #BDD #mental health #LGBTQ

[theliterateape]

Letting Go of the Things We Love

By David Himmel

Gun to head, I’d have told you I was a leg man over a boobs guy and meant it. So much so, that in my early-twenties, after talking about it for years, I finally stole a mannequin leg from a mall department store. Okay, I didn’t steal it, my friend, Chris Gallant stole it. We were walking out of Dillards (maybe it was Robinsons-May), and I was saying, again, how badly I wanted to steal one of those legs. Chris, tired of the same old talk and no action, grabbed a leg decked out in DKNY thigh-high pantyhose just before exiting through the automatic doors. We barely picked up our pace as we headed to the car.

“Here’s your fucking leg,” he said.

I didn’t want the leg for any kind of perverted reasons. I never humped the leg or even thought of humping the leg. I never even thought of it as having a gender at all. And I had no intention of turning it into a lamp, a la A Christmas Story, as many suggested I do. I just wanted the leg. I thought it was funny. Having a random leg wearing a DKNY thigh-high in my house made me laugh. It was even funnier to me that everyone else was either weirded out by it or thought I was a sicko.

I didn’t care. I loved that leg.

That leg moved with me from Las Vegas to Chicago. For a good while, it sat near the coat rack in a corner of the apartment I share with my now wife. She hated it, didn’t understand it. That made me love it even more. It added to whatever mysterious cool I liked to think I have.

When Chris got married last summer, I planned to bring the leg to Boston and present it to him and his bride, Amy, as a heartfelt gift. My wife, Katie, advised me against it. Not because it was a pain in the ass to pack, but because it was a terrible idea. And that, of course, made me want to bring the leg to Boston even more. But I didn’t. I forgot. Between my bag, Katie’s bag, the kid and his bag, car seat, stroller, and Pack ‘n Play, I forgot it in Chicago.

It’s a missed opportunity I’ll likely never get over.

Katie has asked me to get rid of it countless times. She’s pleaded with me to throw it away a baker’s dozen number of times. I refused. But I would move it into a new spot, hoping that would buy me more time with the leg before Katie finally chucked it on her own while I was out of town. I moved it from the coat rack to the kid’s room; to the kitchen; into Katie’s shower. It always made me laugh.

And I should say that DKNY makes a helluva thigh-high stocking. That thing’s been carried around across the country and lived through several homes since George W. Bush’s first administration and there is not a single run in it.

But as we’ve accumulated more stuff in the last year because of our kid, our place began to feel overwhelming. All that stuff. A bassinet that’s not getting used anymore, a car seat he’s grown out of, a jumper and a swing he’s too big for. We can’t throw this stuff out. We can’t give it away or sell it either. Chances are, we’ll have another kid — if the Dark Lord blesses us with such a joy — and we’ll need all that crap again. So, in an effort to make room for the old stuff the kid no longer needs and the new stuff the kid does need, we’ve been purging hard. Like, body dysmorphic bulimic bride-to-be hard.

I had no problem chucking a good armful of DVDs including Boondock Saints because that is a shit, shit, shit movie. The leg… Getting rid of the leg was hard.

I sent photos of it to Chris, hoping he would join me in affection for it. His response: “Dude…. That still exists?”

Of course it does! It’s my leg! The leg I always wanted! The leg he stole for me because I was too much of a wuss to take what I wanted.

But today, I pulled the trigger. I threw the leg away. All things come into our lives and leave our lives when they should. The leg served me well. It brought me joy. And I know that spits in the face of the KonMari method, but chucking it brought my wife joy, which brings me joy. So here we are. One joyful family.

Plus, now that I have a kid, and Chris has one on the way, maybe, in a few years, we’ll send our kids in to a mall department store to lift a new leg for us — um, me. That’ll be a new adventure we can have together. A tradition of friendship and robbery. That is, of course, if department stores still exist when our kids are old enough to successfully commit misdemeanors.

Letting go of the things we love is never easy. But, it does open up space to be filled with new things worth loving.

#konmari method #Dillons #Robnisons-May #Leg Lamp #A Christmas Story #DKNY

[altermun]

Aw fuck

Y’know, I keep running into more and more issues I thought I had worked through already. 

Went to the doctor’s office yesterday, I thought I had at least lost a little bit of the weight I put on with the Abilify, but I weighed in at 134.7lbs.

I’m about 15 pounds heavier than the number I like seeing on the scale. Confusingly as hell, I didn’t think I really looked heavier?? But I’m so bothered and disturbed by the number it kind of sent me on a spiral. I looked again and suddenly I saw it, and my face shape is different, my arms are bigger, my ASS is bigger, and somehow I can still almost see my six-pack.

I...

My immediate instinct was to curl up in a corner and not eat anymore.

I have enough wherewithal to not do that, but it says a lot to me that I even had that thought. It’s not like I don’t know how to lose weight... but the thing is, if I could work out frequently enough, the number wouldn’t matter to me. Or at least it’d matter less, because I could attribute it to muscle gain.

But I haven’t been working out frequently. At all. So I KNOW that number wasn’t because I’m a veritable wall of lean muscle. Practically, practically, I realize I have not been eating. Like, I forget about food because I’m stressed, and half the time I feel better when I don’t eat.

That is related to my anxiety surrounding food, which is connected to my crohn’s. As in, I never know what’s going to make me feel awful, or trigger stomach pain, and put me out of commission for the day. Sometimes I get so afraid of that possibility that I just... don’t eat. And I let myself do it because (sometimes) I can actually get shit done that way.

Problem is, I’ve now taught my body to cling to everything I eat, so it’s not burning right, and it’s not... It’s not responding right to food. It’s like everything I eat is a problem somehow. I eat a sandwich, I’m nauseated and can’t function for the rest of the day. I eat something that won’t hurt, but it’s simple sugars/carbs.

Every time my crohn’s flares up, or I have stomach issues, I have to re-conquer this fear, and reteach my body to handle food, and I’m so sick of it. Slipping back into not eating is so much easier, until it affects me in the exact way I don’t want. And when that happens, my body dysmorphic disorder rears its disgusting, ugly head, and I have to reset my perception of reality.

Do you have ANY idea how hard that is?

I’m so tired. I just... am really, really tired.

OH - and then the extra fun part is when I start trying to eat again, I either eat almost nothing portion wise, or eat a semi-normal portion and have heart palpitations. Like the ones I’m having right now as I finish off my frozen broccoli snack. I bet there was too much sodium in that.

I have trouble with sodium for some bizarre reason. And onion. And garlic. And, y’know, food. Also my body. -Sigh-

I just want it to warm the fuck up so I can run. Running would help so, so many things. It levels me out emotionally, it helps me feel like I’m gaining muscle and have some control over my body, that maybe I’m stronger than I think, it kicks up my metabolism, and it helps me stop giving a shit about numbers on a scale. 

The pain definitely doesn’t help. It’s hard to work out when my body already hurts. But I could get past it, y’know? If I could do something that I felt actually had an effect. Ha, that ALSO has to do with my perception of reality.

I’m tired of having to fight my own body to function. There’s so much I ignore on a daily basis that I struggle with... sometimes I just want the day to be over ASAP... problem with that is then I’ve lost another day being exhausted instead of productive.

I have three papers to write before the end of the month, and a poster to create in the next 10 days or so... and I don’t even want to think about any of it. I may actually take a nap and figure this out another time...

#tw: anorexia #tw: body issues #big long babble #pretty sure this doesn't go anywhere #it's just circular frustration