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ziggyzolch · 2 months

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Your Prettiness is Seeping Through IV (Wanda Maximoff x Reader)

Warnings: Explicit depictions of bulimia. self harm talk. the usual. mommy issues fr. breakdowns, wanda going through it. lotta dialogue this chapter.

Previous Chapter

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----------she looks like the real thing-------------

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Crumbs and dirty plates surrounded you. Sunlight streamed through the large front windows, casting a warm glow on the girl sitting across from you. You don’t quite recognize her, but for some reason you ignore it. She smiles, her eyes crinkling at the corners, as you finish off the last of your meal.. You dust off your hands, picking up a napkin and wiping sauce off your lips. “You go first, I need to chill for a bit.” The girl across from you groans, placing her hand on her belly. Nodding, you toss the crumpled napkin to the side and stand up.

The air smells of fried food and coffee, an oddly comforting blend that lingers as you weave through the tightly packed tables. Dirty looks are thrown your way while you push past every other customer, but you pay them no mind. The bathroom door, slightly ajar, beckoned you. The door hinges’ squeaking echo throughout the restaurant’s washroom as you enter.

Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, your feet squeaking against the tiled floor as you walk towards the stall closest to you, glancing at the elderly woman at the sinks. Her gaze follows you, curious and slightly disapproving, as you slipped inside the stall and closed the door behind you. You roll your eyes and enter.

It’s none of her business.

Your fingers fumble in your pocket, finding the hair tie and pulling your hair into a tight bun, ensuring no strays would get in the way. Dropping to your knees on the cold, tiled floor, you lean over the toilet. Your stomach felt like it was about to burst.

This was going to be good.

You bring your right hand up to your mouth, taking a deep breath in before shoving two fingers down your throat.

The sound of you coughing and gagging bounce around the room, but nothing comes out.

You take your fingers out, ignoring the saliva dripping onto the floor,

“Fuck, come on.” You mutter.

You try again, going deep enough to feel the ridges of your throat. A little soda comes out, but nothing else.

Tears sprang to your eyes, “No, no, no. Come on, come on!”

You use your arm to wipe your eyes, trying to avoid ruining your mascara, but instead of being greeted by the sight of a disgusting, spit covered toilet, you open your eyes to find you’re back at the same table, with the same girl sitting across from you, as if no time had passed.

You didn’t feel any emptier, but you couldn’t control your hands moving towards the seemingly untouched food. Your body moves on its own accord, devouring the entire three-course meal and quickly standing up, making your way back to the bathroom.

Rushing into the bathroom, you enter the same stall.

You tie up your hair, lean over the toilet, and shove your fingers down your throat.

Nothing.

“Fuck!”

You blink, and the familiar surroundings of the diner reappear. The sensation of being overstuffed returns, more intense than before. The girl across from you smiles, pushing her plate towards you, “I’m full.”

Unable to stop yourself, you reach for the plate and demolish her leftovers. Footsteps behind you catch your attention. “Who’s this for?” The waiter asks, handing you the plate of cheese fries when the girl points at you.

Grabbing the plate, you start eating before it even hits the table, not even bothering to use utensils.

You lick the plate clean, grabbing the cup of iced tea and chugging it down. Just as you’re about to get up for the third time, a sudden wave of tiredness hits you. The girl smiles wider as she watches you flop back down onto your seat, laying your head on the table as your eyes droop.

‘No, get up!’ You think to yourself, ‘Get the fuck up. Go!’

You can’t keep all of that food inside you. Imagining the amount of calories you’re digesting sickens you.

The sounds of the diner fade as you start to drift off.

‘Stay awake, get up and go. Go! Wake up. Wake up, Please just-’

“Wake up!”

You jump up, hands grasping at your chest. The warm atmosphere of the diner is replaced by the harsh, sterile environment of your room. Glancing around, you catch sight of a wide eyed Wanda with her hands on your shoulders.

“Oh, thank god.” You breathe a sigh of relief. It was just a nightmare. You shake her hands off of you and she backs away as you turn to sit up at the edge of the bed. Cheeks reddening, you realize she must’ve seen you thrash around in bed muttering like an insane person.

Wanda picks at her cuticles, standing awkwardly as you stand up, stretching with a groan. “Good morning.” You smile, noticing her eyes flicker to your exposed middle. Quickly, you pull your shirt down, hiding the scars you know she’s staring at.

“Minor surgery,” you lie, turning away before she can ask any more questions.

Two parallel scars adorned each side of your hips, a burn you’d made when you were 16 that never faded. Making designs with your burns added an element of fun to your self-harm. If the light hit your lower abdomen just right, you could see a faded heart you’d burnt into yourself.

Wanda’s eyebrows knit together as she watches you enter the bathroom. She had no idea why you were in here, and any attempt she made to read your mind was met with resistance. The only time she’d ever heard any of your thoughts was the first time she’d seen you.

She caught glimpses of your dream, mostly just you eating at a diner on loop, but nothing past that. Her observations were pretty much useless. Scars were randomly scattered across your left arm, in a way that they could almost pass as accidental, if you overlooked how many there were. They were nothing like her own, all parallel and within the same general area. She figured they must be accidents, since you didn’t make much of an effort to hide them.

Plus, your somewhat sunny disposition makes her hesitant to assume you were here as a result of a failed suicide attempt.

You had tried talking to her several times, each attempt more awkward than the last. She watched you furrow your eyebrows in thought, speak, then sulk when she didn’t offer a response until you thought of something else, repeating the loop. Getting stuck with an overexcited extrovert was the complete opposite of what she expected in a facility like this.

The only suspicious thing she’d caught you doing was when you spent 2 hours on your laptop, watching people eat ungodly amounts of food. That led her to the conclusion that you must have some sort of eating disorder.

Wanda takes a seat at the desk as you exit. She hears you walking around the room, opening random drawers and re-entering the bathroom before walking towards her. “Hey, you haven’t seen a pack of cigarettes lying around here, have you?” You ask with your hands on your hips, twisting your torso to scan the room before making eye contact.

She shakes her head, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“Damn it,” You mutter.

Both of your eyes turn towards the door as Nurse Ezra walks in, “Ah, great, you’re already up. Come get your breakfast,” He turns to walk away before quickly turning back, “Oh, shoot, I need to lock the room behind you guys.”

You and Wanda glance at each other before you ask, “Uh…why?”

He scratches the back of his head, “We lock the doors for 30 minutes after meals. To get you guys to socialize, and to stop,” He makes eye contact with you, “Certain patients from doing something that may affect their…journey.”

Wanda furrows her eyebrows, looking to you for an explanation. You don’t seem to be as confused as her, your face reddening.

Shaking yourself out of your shock, you nod and begin to walk out the room, the witch following after you.

Wanda catches up to you, her voice hesitant. “Hey... Do you know what he meant by that?”

You try not to react to the fact that she was speaking to you, “No idea.”

“Are you sure?”

“I really don’t. Where are you from?”

Wanda raises an eyebrow at the sudden topic change before you continue, “I just noticed you had an accent.”

“Sokovia.” She replies, “Not much of a country anymore, though.”

You scoff, “Don’t say that.”

She shrugs. It had been years since she’d heard any news about Sokovia. Her country had been destroyed by a sentient robot, and she helped. She helped Ultron get access to vibranium, she released the Hulk into the city, and in the end she got Pietro…

Nevermind.

She can’t bring herself to watch the news about Sokovia anymore.

“It was destroyed. Was it not?” She questions as you both take a seat at one of the benches.

“They are rebuilding it.” You rest your chin on your hands,

Wanda’s eyes widened, “Really?”

You lift an eyebrow, a hint of surprise in your voice. “Yeah…Did you not know?”

She shakes her head.

Trays of food being placed in front of you interrupt your conversation. It was split up into 4 sections. The largest, on the bottom right corner, was filled with scrambled eggs and bacon. Hash Browns were on the section to its left, toast and jam on the section above. A single milk carton placed on the last one.

Your stomach grumbles at the sight. The food looked delicious, which you had expected in a place like this, but there’s no way you could let yourself digest it. The more you focus on the meal in front of you, the more you notice the oil dripping off the hashbrowns, the grease gathering under the bacon and eggs, and the calorie label on the carton of milk. You didn’t need to look at the toast to know how many calories were in it, you had it memorized.

You can’t eat this.

Ignoring Wanda’s eyes on you, you open up the carton of milk, pouring it over the whole meal.

“What was that for?” The witch asks, plunging her fragile, plastic fork into the hashbrowns.

You take a spoon and mush the food, mixing the milk into everything you could,

“I don’t eat pork.”

❅❅❅

The common room had been buzzing with excitement since visiting hours arrived. You could see Wanda across the room, sitting on a pristine white couch next to an older redhead, who was wearing a baseball cap indoors. You wondered briefly as to why, but dismissed it; to each their own.

You turn your gaze towards the window, watching the snow fall. Winter had always been your favorite season; it brought on a comforting kind of depression. You could never explain it in a way that made sense, but summer made you feel fat. In the same way keeping your hair curly, breathing heavily, and sweating in any way made you feel fat. You knew it didn’t make any sense, but you couldn’t stand it. The snow was also just nicer than heat to you. It had never snowed where you lived, so even after your second year here, you still got excited to see it.

Someone snapping their fingers in front of your face takes you out of your reverie. “I’m paying attention.” You grumble, bringing your eyes up to meet your mothers’.

She sighs, “How’s this place treating you?”

“It’s fine.”

“Good, good. Let’s hope you don’t gain too much weight.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Are you serious?”

“Baby, you don’t need to gain weight, you just need to stop doing,” She makes random gestures, “Whatever you used to do. You’re fine just like that.”

“Thanks.” You scoff, “ Where’s dad?”

She offers a look of pity, “You know dad, honey, his work keeps him busy.”

“He can’t spare one day to visit-”

“So, any boys catch your eye?” She interrupts.

You bring your hands up to your face, groaning, “Mother, I am in a mental facility.”

She shrugs, “So?”

“Oh my god.” You say, exasperated.

Your mother checks her watch before lightly slapping her hands against her knees and getting up. Eyes widening, you rise to your feet, disbelief clearly written on your face, “You’re leaving already?”

She sighs, “I’m sorry, baby, but I need to get home and make dinner before your father gets home.”

“Can’t he order? Please, just fifteen more minutes-”

“Stay safe, honey, call me if you need anything.”

Wanda watches you chase after your mother, pleading. She doesn’t really get it. The conversation you were having could be heard from where she was sitting, and it didn’t seem like your mother cared enough for you to beg her to stay longer.

“Poor girl. Isn’t she your roommate?” Natasha asks, having watched the scene play out.

The younger woman nods, “Yeah.”

“Is she nice?”

“She’s okay.”

“If she’s a bitch you can tell me. I’ll knock her right out of this place.”

Wanda laughs, “She’s decent, just a little talkative.”

“Good. You need someone like that.”

“What makes you say that?” Wanda picks at the loose threads on her sweater.

“I don’t know,” The widow looks at her hands, “You starve and you don’t talk, you drink and you don’t talk. You never say anything at all.”

Wanda sighs, “I talk.”

“Not about anything substantial. You never told me how much you were struggling.”

“I could handle it.”

“This,” Natasha gestures to the surrounding, “is not the result of ‘handling it.’”

“This,” Wanda mimics her, “is bullshit. I should be at work.”

“So you can freely drink yourself into a coma?” Natasha sighs, “What would Pietro think?”

“Seriously?” Wanda jumps up, “This was a mistake.”

“No wait-” The witch storms off before Natasha can apologize.

Who does she think she is? Pietro’s not here to give her the same bullshit the rest of her friends were giving. He’s not here to reprimand her for all the alcohol she drank, or all the meals she’s missed. He’s not here to help her clean up her room, dress her wounds, comb through her matted hair.

He’s not here.

Wanda doesn’t realize what she’s doing until she feels hands grasping at her wrists, stopping her from banging her fist against her head anymore. When did she reach her room?

“Hey, hey. You’re okay.”

Wanda breaks down as you pull her towards you, lowering yourself onto the floor with her. You'd dropped everything the second you saw her franticly run into the room.

“I can’t stay here.” She chokes out. You move her towards your shoulder, letting her rest her head. “I-I can’t s-stay.”

Shushing her, you gently scratch the back of her head, “You don’t have to talk,” you say softly.

Wanda leans back after a while, sniffling and looking at your shirt, pinching the fabric, “I stained your shirt. I’m sorry.”

You glance down at the wet spot on your shirt and shrug, smiling. “Stain it all you want. This shirt has seen worse,”

The witch smiles before pushing herself off the floor, walking towards the desk and wiping at her eyes with her sleeves, while you stay seated on the floor.

A soft thud echoes throughout the room as something is tossed onto the ground in front of you.

You gasp, “My baby! Where did you find this?” Inspecting the pack, you pull the top open, taking a cigarette and pulling a lighter out of your pocket.

“I found it in the lobby when I first came here. Sorry.”

“I forgive you, thief.”

“Shut up.”

You rise and move to the window, pushing it open with a quiet creak. The frost gathered on the bars slowly melts as you light up your cigarette. The cool air brushes against your face while you take the first drag of the cigarette, the smoke curling around you.

“Cancer’s a slow death.” Wanda says, approaching you.

You offer her a hit. “Everything causes cancer these days.”

She shakes her head, opting to just stand next to you. After a moment of silence, Wanda points at your arm, “How’d you get that?”

She raises a hand when you start to answer, “Let me guess, paintball? Or was it a failed attempt at cooking?”

You laugh, looking down at the circle shaped scar on your arm, “Am I that bad of a liar?”

“You’re quick with the excuses,” she says, a hint of amusement in her voice. “It’s almost impressive.'"

Raising your other hand, you softly rub at the scar, “I was 14 – or 13 – and I bent a big paperclip into a circle, heated it up, then…tss”

Wanda winces, “You branded yourself? Jesus,” she turns her head towards the ground, “You were so young.”

You put out the cigarette, shrugging.

She points to your right arm, at a scar that runs across your bicep, “What about this one?”

“Sport accident.”

The witch raises an eyebrow, “Seriously?”

“Yes! I don’t have the balls to do that on purpose.”

She gives you the benefit of the doubt, moving on, “And that?”

Your eyes widen when she points at the band aid on your head, “Oh. Nothing.”

“Come on-”

“It’s nothing!”

Wanda places her arms up in surrender, “Sorry, sorry.”

She pauses for a moment before continuing, “Y’know, you come off quite cheerful.”

You shrug, “People like me better that way.”

“So? Who cares what people think?” Wanda places her hand on your arm.

You push her hand off, “I do.”

The conversation fizzles as you look away, lighting another cigarette and shivering at a gust of wind. You hear Wanda's footsteps echo throughout the room as she walks away, the bathroom door closing behind her.

You hated people touching you, it's like you could feel all the fat being squished under their hands. Objectively, you knew you weren’t obese, but you were constantly aware of all the fat under your skin.

You were hyper-aware of everything in your body, every change. When your baby fat started to fall off, when the veins in your hands became more prominent, when your hip bones started to stick out. Nothing got past you. You couldn’t let it. Once you start ignoring all the little changes, you’ll start gaining weight, and it’ll take another 3 years to get rid of it again.

Being overly self-aware was a gift as much as it was a curse.

You jump as the silence around you is suddenly broken by Wanda’s hesitant voice, “I’m sorry.”

Catching your breath, you offer Wanda a smile, “None of that. Nothing to be sorry for.”

“No, not just that. For ignoring you when you tried to talk to me.”

You move towards your bed, taking a seat, “You don’t owe me conversation.”

Wanda grins, “You’re so forgiving.”

You lightly punch her shoulder as she plops down next to you. “You’re so apologetic.”

She smooths down the wrinkles on your blanket, “I can’t help it.”

“Neither can I.”

The witch’s eyes widen as Pietro’s face flashes onto yours when you answer. She backs away, harshly rubbing at her eyes.

You sigh as you watch Wanda retreat to her bed, curling up and turning away.

Wanda’s gentle sobs echoed in the room. You watch her back, her shoulders trembling as she cries, waiting for an explanation she would never give. She couldn’t look at you, couldn’t see him.

The room goes silent as Wanda’s sobs quiet, aside from the occasional creak of the floorboards and the faint rustle of the bedding.

You almost say something. Almost reach forward, blurting out words of reassurance that you knew she wouldn’t believe.

Instead, you move back towards the window, lighting your third cigarette of the hour.

❅❅❅

A/N: hello! hope you guys are doing well. this chapter was supposed to come out earlier but i scrapped a rewrote a huge chunk of it.

anyways, i read your comments and they mean so so so much, i appreciate u guys fr. motivates me to write more, im just bad at replying.

any criticisms, advice, opinions or whatevs are welcome and i hope you guys enjoyed the new chapter! <3 <3

Comment to be added to taglist!! or removed or whateva

Tags: @mathxa @nikkinss @charleeeesworld @marvel-posts @fawnedolly @dyingbatbutnobat

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littlelillycatsworld · 7 months

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weight loss breakdown (for once not a mental one impressive ik)

as promised heres my weight loss breakdown. I have awful brain fog words aren't working properly (using any and all brain power on English rn) and it's a bit all over the place please be patient with me I have most definitely forgotten some stuff I'll update when I remember

this is not healthy this is what works for me I know the limits of my body you are your own person please look after yourself and don't compare yourself to me. I'm a professional ballerina and ex-taekwondow artist

please be polite don't leave unsolicited advice if I need or want it I'll ask and right now I DONT.

I'm not suggesting that anyone should attempt to fallow this since this is actually insane

DRINKS

I drink lemon honey water or tea for breakfast most days depending on how much calorie dread I have (does that make sense?)

I will only allow myself to drink water, tea or diet coke/zero or ultra monster throughout the day

MEALS

OMAD when possible budget is 900 I rarely ever make it close to my budget

I'll only intentionally eat dinner unless forced otherwise. I must burn off whatever I can from dinner since I don't have classes that late

some days it's completely unavoidable and I have to eat snacks due to outside pressure like friends and family or my manager (he's apparently hell bent on keeping my ass alive)

binges happen we (I) acknowledge them we (me) move

if I feel faint when In class nothing matters I WILL eat I cannot run the risk of hurting myself or my dance partner when it's him who will be the one who makes sure i dont hit the ground

META DAYS

meta days are important please take them!

I must allow myself 2 grace days a week and I try to be gentle with myself. (essentially I'm gentle parenting myself on these days)

I try not to fall into my normal over the top exercise routine since I still haven't figured out how to make these days my bitch

my cal budget is normally around 1400 for these days

EXERCISE

I must do 10k steps at least (normally much closer to 25k)

I start every day off with a mile run sometimes 2 (depending on how much I want to not exist and weather conditions)

i go to the gym at my dorm when weather conditions are bad or it's to cold for me I run on the treadmill it's not as mentally stimulating as outside but I don't like the rain ice or wind too much

i can be expected to be dancing for 8-9hrs on my longest day so for the most part I don't need to worry too much about forcing myself to burn calories but it gives me peace of mind I burn an estimated 4500cal these days (impossible to know for sure since 2 teachers don't allow activity trackers)

around 3000 on my normal days but again 2 teachers are a pain In my ass

I play just dance religiously at this point it takes me 2hrs to burn 500 I do this after dinner or twice a day on the weekends where possible.

I still practice taekwondo and go to a studio to do classes once a week but it's not as extreme as it used to be (no longer training 6 days a week and doing competitions)

WEIGHING

I weigh myself most days

I don't weigh myself during my meta days I don't need the added mental stress

I get weighed by my school once a week but only update my profile if there is a big difference either up or down (accountability and all that)

FASTS

I normally do 24hr since omad

I don't count my medication, gum, diet coke/zero tea or lemon honey water as breaking my fast. if this keeps me mentally stable then idk it doesn't count (politely eat a brick if you try to tell me otherwise)

I always try to get at least one longer fast a week normally after dinner on wednesday to Friday dinner sometimes I can make it to Saturday dinner it just depends on who's around to make me eat

if your wondering how I've survived this far all I can say is I'm a spiteful little bitch who's going to prove a whole list of people wrong

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