Tw Body Image - Tumblr Posts
I've now seen a fair few posts about Bucky's change in appearance and seen people offer up in-universe explanations such as it's first time in his entire life he's been getting consistent food and water etc. I need to say one thing.
I find it abhorrent that people feel the need to critique/comment on the body of a real life person considering all we now know of what these super cut beefy actors go through (which btw includes extreme dehydration which is life threatening) just so a movie can have a "sexy shirtless scene" and what Sebastian Stan has said in the past about his body dysmorphia. And in the context of Bucky as a character, it's disgusting considering he spent almost a century with no autonomy over what he looks like or what he did with his time, he's not cattle to judge.
So yeah we can think up all the in universe explanations we like and post the most backhanded compliments in support of him, but the thing is we shouldn't be commenting at all. This isn't like what they did with Thor where it was part of a poor taste storyline and a costume that Hemsworth donned, this is a real person's body and after the horrible treatment the late Chadwick Boseman received for his body's changes undergoing treatment, I would've hoped people had learned that even "complimentary" comments about body weight changes can be inappropriate and unwelcome. Just don't say anything?? It's so easy to shut up.
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Mahito x Reader // word count 2k
In which Mahito offers to make your insecurities disappear. Quite literally.
Tags/warnings: dark content, yandere, implied noncon, body horror, kidnapped reader, biting, blood, non-consensual kissing, discussion of death, gender neutral reader, reader has body image issues and is implied to have dealt with them in unhealthy ways
A/N: Not as painstakingly edited as usual because I'm trying to get out of the write-something-and-then-pick-at-it-until-I-hate-it time loop
You are sitting with your knees pulled up to your chest, facing the wall of the sewer. It is not the first time you have sat like this, nor the first time you have spent so long in this position. In the early days, Mahito would tell you to turn around and watch him experiment, and you’d feel your stomach writhe in time with the contorted things on the floor. But he lets you look away now. You’re not sure why, but you don’t bother wondering. It’s easier not to look, to pretend that you are alone, to tell yourself that the almost-human sounds echoing in the tunnel are merely figments of your imagination. That his laughter is only a memory from your nightmares, and not a constant reminder of what your life has become.
There isn’t much laughing this time. It’s mostly noises of surprise and keen interest, the kind a normal person might make upon viewing something mundane under a microscope, and seeing its hidden world beneath. You do not know what worlds Mahito is discovering, and you hope he doesn’t force you to find out.
The worst part, of course, comes after his mouth finally closes. When you hear nothing but his footsteps upon the ground. Coming closer. You don’t run from it, or lash out, like you used to. Your stomach churns, and your pulse quickens, but you still let him spread his legs on either side of you, press his chest to your back, and wrap his arms around your waist. His hands cross beneath your ribcage, and you try not to think about what they were touching before. What you might see if you turn around. What he might be feeling, now that he has you so close.
“You would’ve liked it this time,” he says, as if he actually believes it. “It was interesting. And less…hm. Less dramatic than usual, I guess. For a while.” A high-pitched little spurt of laughter ruptures in your ear. “I got really carried away at the end. But I did try.”
“Why does that matter?” Even hearing him talk about it makes you nauseous, but not so much that you can’t speak. Not anymore. “It ends the same no matter how it starts.”
“Maybe! But you’ve got a saying about that. It’s…ah. What is it…?” He presses his face into the side of your neck and inhales deeply. Kisses your skin with cold lips before breaking away with a sudden start. “Oh! I remember. ‘The journey’s more important than the destination.’ It’s a very nice saying. I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”
You don’t like the way his mind drifts when he touches you. He makes you go rigid, takes away your ability to blink and breathe, but you seem to do the opposite to him. He kisses you again, in the same place, and then bares his grin, scrapes at you with his teeth and tongue, pulls and sucks and bites at your skin -
It is a long time before he says anything again. Long enough for you to be grateful that you have no way to see your reflection, to assess the damage he’s left behind, the growing collection of reminders on your body.
“I could take you on a journey, too.” He tightens his arms around you, presses in until you can barely tell where he ends and you begin. “I could change you, like I changed them…well.” He giggles. “Not quite like that. You’d still be alive at the end.”
You go stiff. Breath catches in your throat. “No.” Your voice creaks out, so quiet that he might not even notice how terrified you are. “No.” Louder. There’s more, there, if only you could find the strength to say it. Don’t touch me, let go of me, stay far, far away, let me go -
“Don’t worry. I’d let you decide what you wanted me to do. Although I’m pretty sure I already know.” You squirm desperately against his hold, and he sighs, and presses his lips to your ear. “I’m not trying to scare you, you know. I don’t want to change anything about you. You’re so so cute already. But…”
There is a trickle of blood dripping down your neck. Slow, already drying. How long has it been there? How long have you tuned it out?
“I know there are parts of your body that you don’t like.” His voice is uncharacteristically gentle, and you search it for any hint of amusement. “You really don’t like them. I was watching you for a while before I brought you here, so I saw the things you did to hide them. To change them. It’s not so different from what I do.” He lifts his hand from your waist, wiggles his fingers in the air. “I’m just way, way better at it.”
“No.” You don’t even know what you look like anymore. Even if you did -
Maybe you’d still hate it. But it doesn’t matter here.
“I know I could do it.” He lets go of you for a moment, repositions his hands, and spins you around, the force of the sudden movement knocking your own hands from the places where they dug into your shins. You splay them flat against the floor, and keep your eyes down. “Here.” He crouches in front of you, and points. “And here. And here. I could make all of it look just how you want it to.”
You close your eyes, scared to get a glimpse of what lies behind him. (That’s not the only reason, is it?) It’s better not to look at him, either. (And…)
“It’s really a very tiny difference between what you have and what you want, so it won’t be easy to do perfectly,” he admits. “But it also means that you probably wouldn’t die. And if I mess up, I can always just try again!”
He’s so close to you. Breathing on your face, even though you’re pretty sure he doesn’t have to breathe at all. If you open your eyes, you won’t be able to see what’s behind him - his stare will take up your entire field of view.
“I don’t want to mess up, though. You wouldn’t be very happy if I did that. And I want you to be happy.” He touches the side of your jaw, and then tugs carefully at the corner of your mouth, like he thinks it might rip open if he pulls too hard. “You smiled a lot before I brought you here. It was cute.”
Your eyes are still closed. His hand is just as cold as his lips. You could even feel it through your clothes, moments before. Here, and here, and here…you wish he didn’t understand the way you think about yourself. He’d be so much easier to tune out if he was wrong.
“I want you to smile because of me.” His hand crawls up the side of your face, and pulls at your eyelids, his touch a bit less gentle than it was a moment before. “If that means making you look a tiny bit different, I don’t mind. As long as I don’t have to change your mouth”-
You look at him, because you truly believe your eyelids might rip off if you don’t.
“Oh. Or those eyes. Not those, either.” He’s leaning so far forward that his nose brushes yours. So that you can see him, and only him - and you. Just a bit of you, in his eyes, the tiniest glimpse of your own reflection that you wish you could erase. “I’ve been practicing a lot,” he says, “but I never change those.”
Practicing.
“What do you mean?” You’re not sure if you actually say it, or if it’s only in your head. Either way, he doesn’t answer you with words. Instead it’s with a kiss, which is worse, because his tongue is in your mouth now, and his hands are on all the places that he just pointed out on your body, and they don’t change. You’re exactly who you are, far too grounded inside yourself as this thing makes you wish you had no body to touch at all.
And yet, you don’t want it to end. Because when it ends -
He sits down at your side.
And with that, there is nothing between you and the rest of the mess he’s created.
And you cannot tear your eyes away.
“I told you it was interesting.” He folds his hand over yours. “You really should have watched. I almost got it right this time.”
There is the usual mess. Fleshy and fluid things, undulating slightly, with holes that open up as if to scream but make no sound. The vague suggestions of limbs, on some, nothing but huddled slimy masses remaining of others. Eye sockets, empty, migrated into strange places. Colors and textures stolen from the insides and outsides of human bodies, so that you can’t for a moment forget what you’re looking at. That’s usually all that there is. And it’s enough to send your guts crawling up the walls of your throat, all on its own.
But the one there -
It is not moving at all. And it has eyes. Glazed. And it has limbs, twisted off at the ends, but clearly four, clearly only half-heartedly destroyed. And it has lips. And teeth. And they are stretched out in a grimace, pasted-on even after its heart stopped pumping blood to the muscles of its face, even after its chest caved in and its lungs burst out from under the wreckage and the rest of its head fell away -
“I’m getting very good at making copies.” He leans his head against your shoulder. “Your body is easy…it’s just your face that’s hard. But that one had a face kind of like yours to begin with, so I did okay.” His grip on your hand tightens. “Not perfect, though. So I had to get rid of it.”
The mouth does not look familiar. Not anymore. But the eyes, lifeless as they are -
“I’ll show you once I get it right,” he sighs. “Once I make one look exactly like you. And then you can tell me how you want me to fix it, and once we’ve got it all figured out”-
You retch. But everything stays inside. You wrap your free arm around your waist for a moment, and then snatch it away, repulsed for reasons you don’t entirely understand.
“Don’t worry, cutie. It won’t take too many more.” Mahito lifts his hand from yours and turns towards you. “I wouldn’t mind if it did, though.” You look at him, if only to avoid looking at the other things in the room, and watch as he smiles back at you. His head is tilted, eyes shining, mouth closed. He stares at you for far too long, and slowly, slowly, his lips curl back, revealing the bleach-white grin underneath. “For you…I wouldn’t mind doing anything.”
You don’t see him move, not through the spots of black in your eyes and the haze of blood that’s rushed to your head. But you feel yourself falling, feel your back hit the ground, and feel him flattening himself on top of you. You feel every inch of your body where it presses back against his. And you feel radiating, all-consuming disgust at every place where you connect.
“If you want to stay like this,” he murmurs, “forever, that’s okay too. I’ll change you, or I’ll keep you the same…you’ll be my favorite human no matter what.”
You do not want to stay like this, trapped in your skin as he worms his way over and beneath it. But that isn’t the question, and the answer - that it doesn’t matter what body you panic inside of, or what, exactly, he touches, that nothing will make it better -
Even if you tried to say it, he’d swallow it up before a single word made it off your tongue.
(TW: disordered eating, fatphobia, body image stuff)
Putting it under the cut because it's a long one.
It's a fucking miracle I've made it this far without a severe eating disorder. It's insane to think back on how fucking disgustingly fatphobic my dad was growing up (and still is sometimes, tbh). Like, some of my clearest memories of things he's said to me involve him shitting on other people for being "fat."
Like, the most vivid one is when we were stopped at a Wendy's on a family road trip, and there was a girl close to my age, probably a few years younger, wearing those Soffee gym shorts. The waistband was cutting into her sides a little so it looked like she had a "muffin top" (she was absolutely not overweight, probably skinnier than me at the time tbh) and he said something like "I can't believe how fat kids are these days - she's probably one of the fittest girls in her class and she looks like that." Literally if you have enough skin for it to be dented by your clothes, you're fat and unattractive.
He would always comment on how much too skinny or too fat women on TV were, or the clothes other people wore in public, or the food other people were eating (ESPECIALLY if they were bigger, but also if they were very thin). He also loved to say any disabled person who was at all visibly overweight "isn't disabled, they're just fat," or otherwise blame their disability on their fatness.
I also remember him shitting on my mom's weight when I was even younger, when I was weighing myself (I think, or maybe using the scale to weigh something I was holding). He said something like "yeah your mom's 175lbs 😬😬😬" as if that was so fucking fat. For a very long time I had in my head that anything over 200lbs was like, an actual whale. I'm currently about 180-185lbs at 5'8", and it's fucking crazy to me that he was calling my mom fat TO HER CHILD at a similar BMI to where I am now, after she BORE HIM THAT CHILD!!!!!
I think maybe what saved me is that it crossed the event horizon in my mind, like he was *too* ridiculous about it so that even my very malleable, insecure brain was like "that seems like an insane thing to say, actually." He also never said much directly *about my body* to my face that I can remember, which definitely helped, but he did (and still does) *constantly* harp on how I need to exercise, get in shape, go outside, whatever - even when I was working a job that literally required heavy lifting, walking long distances, and other assorted manual labor outdoors for literally 8 hours a day!!!! (Which, guess what!!! My highest weight was while I was at that job, because I was fucking miserable!!!)
And like, I definitely don't have a particularly great and healthy relationship with food, nor with my own body/appearance, but oh my god I got so lucky because it honestly should've been so much worse.
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Faba Headcanons (mainly past)
Just wanted to get some headcanons down for my imaginations of Fabas Past and random HCs for my Story. (⚠WARNING⚠ . There are a lot of different sensitive topics that are not suited for everyone so please stay safe)
If you see any weird writing mistakes or bad wording, I am sorry :") I easily do typos without noticing and English isnt my first language
-Faba comes from a very unloving home where nothing he did was ever good enough for his parents. When he did well it was just accepted but never acknowledged. When he did mistakes on the other hand he was mostly treated like the scum of the family. But Child Faba still wanted to do his best and make his parents happy even if it was all in vain.
-Petrel and Faba are brothers in this Story, but unlike Faba, Petrel was sick of getting treated like trash, got connections to Team Rocket through the Internet, stole some money and left the Alola Region to join Team Rocket where he was atleast worth something. Their parents didnt care and only used this situation to put Faba under even pressure. "Do your best. You dont want to end up as a criminal as your brother, dont you??" (Faba did crime in the future anyway. yay. Also cant wait for Faba and Petrel to meet again)
-Faba has actually a very bad immune system, is often sick, can't do sports well and is exhausted quite easily. (But his parents didn't care and still forced him to do well and go over his limits)
-Since Faba didnt got any love from anyone, had no friends in school since he was always just the awkward silent depressed kid, he cried pretty often and wished to just shut his head off. After meeting his Drowzee he sometimes asked it to use hypnosis on him so he would fall asleep and stop thinking about how little he is worth. (I have an Angst Comic Idea for this where Adult Faba gets a Flashback of this and jdhufb my heart is aching already because it will be sad but cute in the end)
-He met his Drowzee during a school break in middle school. Some classmates were playing with their Pokemon, while Faba didnt had a single one and was just watching while eating a little. But then a Drowzee came out of nowhere and most of the kids suddenly screamed that theres an evil Pokemon attacking them. They attacked the Drowzee out of fear (because we all know what Drowzee and Hypno are known for), making the Drowzee run away. But..Faba noticed it looked very sad as it left. So Faba walked after it and found it hiding under a tree. The Drowzee panicked once it saw the child and put its little arms protectively over its head. Faba did nothing and let the Drowzee realise that he doesnt want anything bad. This made the Pokemon turn around slowly and saw that the human was offering a little of his food to him, which it happily ate after hesitating a little. Faba took a seat next to the Drowzee, comforting it a bit more and realised it only wanted to play with the other people and pokemon but got treated badly because it was a Drowzee. They quickly became friends and met in nearly any school break until Faba catched it. (I also really wanna draw this as Comic REEEEE)
-Fabas narcissism became a thing after getting to know Drowzee. His first and only friend he ever had. That Pokemon gave him something to fight for in his life but the neglect and ab*se that his parents made him go through nearly every day made it very very difficult. So he started to love himself forcefully and take pride in the things he can do well. At the beginning he could only be prideful of his intelligence but over many many years he became proudful in everything and threw the blame always on someone else when a mistake happend. He became blind by his forceful and fake pride and wanted to proof himself and others that he is a great mastermind...AND THEN DID A BUNCH OF ILLEGAL THINGS LIKE THE POKEMON EXPERIMENTS AND SO ON...YAY!! (Idiot //affec)
-He and his nowadays Hypno are very very loyal to each other. Hypno does literally anything he says. Hypno is also VERY overprotective of Faba since it doesnt want anyone to hurt him as in the past. Colress had a tough time getting its trust but after a long while Hypno knew he could trust Colress.
-Faba is super well with Pokemon that get easily judged and are very feared since he got always ignored and outcasted too
-After Faba was forgiven he actually got hit by depression, a huge amount of guilt, waves of flashbacks and an eating disorder (that he all hides behind acting prideful and acting fine as nothing ever happend). This happend because he couldnt accept that his co-workers were so nice to him and let him stay in the Aether Foundation. Realising the crimes he did because of his Narcississm remembered him that his parents were always right- He is actually just a nothing, a loser that only does mistakes, a scum that actually should just disappear from earth.
-I like the headcanon that Faba does Drag so I add it here too. With the only difference that the Faba for my Story stopped doing it after getting hit with depression and Anorexia. He became unhealthyly thin and rather worked while forgetting/ having no urge to eat. It made him think that his body is very unpleasant and stopped having fun with drag. Thanks to Colress he will start living healthier again slowly and by time, hopefully, show him his love for drag again.
In conclusion he was a very depressed unloved man but thanks to USUM Colress`s Sweetness he will slowly be okay <3 he needs hugs. a lot.
Rant #1.
So, I saw a post about that inbetween section of people who don't look "thin" like models, but still fit into a size medium/small. Now this isn't supposed to be some kind of movement message or anything, just a small rant.
But it kind of got me thinking.I'm not as skinny as those people, either, and to be honest I would call myself fat.
I get comments on my hips, waist, and even my ass. My waist isn't that tiny, but compared to my hips it seems like it is, but to have someone wrap their whole arm around it and scoff like "wow! Didn't expect that to happen!" makes me want to scream.
I don't have stick-like thighs at all (they're nice pillows, tho), and my stomach isn't flat (although anatomically shouldn't be but that's another rant). I do eat healthy and exercise regularly, but because of my genes I just don't lose weight like other people. Everyone says stuff to me like"-blah blah blah- but at least you have curves!!"
"-blah blah blah- you should do ___ more! It'll help!!"
like*screams*
i don't even have a point to prove I'm just pissed.
