#i don’t starve myself bc i think im fat now i starve myself bc im tired and overwhelmed and cooking takes sm work even though i love it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wienerbarnes · 4 years ago

Text

Italian Heart

Pairing: Bucky x Italian!MobBoss!Reader

Word Count: 4,867

Warnings: canon level violence, possible inaccurate italian slang lol

A/N: ive been watching a lot of the sopranos lately and i feel like ive never seen a bucky x mob boss reader au (ive only rlly seen em where buckys the mob boss. if there are ones where reader is the mob boss PLS SEND EM TO ME I BEG) a lot of the slang and mob stuff here is from sopranos bc... im not in the fucking mafia so forgive me anyway enjoy :)<3

MAIN MASTERLIST

Bucky’s never seen a woman quite like yourself.

Dressed in expensive satin and jewelry that hangs between your breasts, an angry look on your face at the fact you’re sitting before him and Sam in an interrogation room in the tower. Freshly done nails, clean and crisp lipstick, spicy perfume, and an expression of annoyance.

As put together as you look, you don’t look like someone to be fucked with. Which, he supposes is good for a mobster; the Boss of Newark.

Looking at you, though, he’d never thought you to be such a figure of intimidation. While the mafia is still alive, despite how the media tries to deny this, he always pictured an old Italian man that chain smokes cigars. He doesn’t think he’s too far off, to his credit; he can smell the remnants of smoke on you.

“Mind if we make this fast? My cousin’s comin’ for dinner and I was gonna make ziti.” You huff, crossing your legs under the table.

“Sounds delicious. Sorry for dragging you all the way out here.” Sam says, a calm look on his face even though he’s well aware of what you’re capable of.

When hunting down the last traces of the super soldier serum, he never thought Nick Fury himself would suggest getting in touch with you. He didn’t think it was worth the time to question how the two of you knew each other.

Theft. Drugs. Murder. Bribery. The list goes on, and there’s not a single thing that ties you to any of it.

A shrug of your shoulders, “So, what exactly is this about?” You ask.

“What is it that you do for a living?” Sam asks.

“I work in waste management.” You respond, a rehearsed answer.

Not exactly a lie, the environmental facility you manage is one of hundreds of covers used by your crew for your crimes. Environmental facilities, deli shops, strip clubs, auto shops. There isn’t a business in Jersey you aren’t tied to.

“Waste management? Like, garbage disposal?” Bucky asks, knowing exactly what it is you do for work.

You smirk, “Yeah, we dispose of garbage sometimes. What’s that got to do with me being here?”

“It’s to my understanding that you’re in the business of… buying and selling things. You and… the people you hang around got a real knack for it.” Sam tells you.

Bucky holds back a roll of his eyes. More like stealing and selling. Expensive Italian suits, antique watches, cars, electronics, illegal cigars. Who knows what else.

“I don’t know where you heard that… but I’m a popular gal, maybe I know a guy who might know a guy. What are you lookin’ for?” You ask.

You know this game, after being in the mob for so long. After being a part of your own crew for years, your patience and hard work paid off, working your way up to a captain and finally a boss. It didn’t take you long to learn in this business that government officials are jokes. Always wanting to bust my balls and then come crying to my corner for help, it’s a bunch of ugatz.

“Serums.” Bucky finally speaks.

A laugh escapes you, “What, like vitamin C?” You teasingly smirk at him.

His chair makes a loud sound in the small room as he pushes it back harshly and stands, resting his hands on the table in between the two of you. You don’t flinch.

“Enough with the bullshit. Super serums. To create super soldiers. We need to get them before they end up in the wrong hands and make a big ass mess.” He snaps at you, but you don’t seem phased in the slightest. In fact, you seem rather amused.

“You must have a lot of agita with all that anger, Sergeant Barnes.”

He doesn’t hold back this time and rolls his eyes before you speak up again, “Your first name is James, isn’t it? Ain’t that Italian?”

“No, it’s English. Or Scottish. Or Jewish - I don’t know, who cares? Are you gonna help us or not?” Bucky takes his seat again, crossing his thick arms over his broad chest.

“What’s in it for me?” You ask, leaning back in your chair.

“Not being arrested for all the shit we know you’re caught up in.” Sam offers.

You roll your own eyes this time, “I’ll take my chances. Thanks for wasting my time, boys, don’t let it happen again.” You stand, prepared to make your way back to the train station to go back to Jersey.

“Wait,” Sam stops you, “What is it that you want?”

You smile innocently and take your seat again, taking a minute to think before answering, “My little sister’s a big fan of yours. I’m sure she and all her friends would think it’s cool if you showed up to her prom as her date.” You wink at Sam.

Silence fills the room as the men think about your request.

“You’re gonna do it, right?” Bucky looks over at him and sees Sam rubbing the crease in between his eyes. He was expecting you to ask for immunity, protection, money, guns. But after hearing your request, he supposes you have enough of all that stuff anyway.

“Man -” Sam begins to refuse.

“Sam, it’s a fucking school dance in exchange for some of the most powerful and sought after serums on the planet - go to the fucking prom.” He tells him, eyebrows scrunching in confusion as to how he would hesitate on something so simple.

“She’s eighteen, so you won’t have any problems with the media or none of that.” You add, the information not really making Sam feel any better.

“Alright, alright, fine. I’ll go to the dance with your sister if you help us get these serums.”

You smile, happy to have done business with the two men, “What information do ya got for me?”

…

Bucky and Sam wait outside a back room in the facility you own. They passed the garbage trucks parked neatly outside, but could hear your screaming and the smell of Cuban cigars as soon as they entered the building.

She’s with a customer, they were told, by someone in your crew, them meeting Bucky’s expectations for mobsters more than you did. None of them ask any questions, but Bucky and Sam aren’t stupid, they’re sure your crew is aware of what’s going on and know the exact reason they’re there.

“You’re a fuckin’ asshole, you know that? The Bible says, Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit -”

“You listen to me, you take your Bible and your quotations book and shove it up your fat fucking ass! Now get the fuck out of my face!”

Bucky can’t help but scoff listening to you scream at whoever’s inside. Sam elbows him, silently telling him that now isn’t the time to find your work funny, especially not in front of the rest of your crew.

Bucky knows he’s old-fashioned, and while things that were taboo such as body modifications or certain fashion styles don’t phase him anymore, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to hearing a woman talk like that. He doesn’t think he’s ever even heard anybody talk like you do.

Suddenly a man bursts out of the room, huffing and puffing, and you walk slowly behind him, as if to make sure he makes it outside okay.

“Grab his plate for me, will you?” You say not to anyone in particular, voice smooth and calm as if you hadn’t been yelling and threatening that man’s life for the past twenty minutes.

One of the men from your crew follows outside, seemingly to collect the license plate of the man who just left.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to that guy, right?” Sam asks as he and Bucky enter the room, taking a seat in front of the desk you have in there. He knows there’s no point in asking, that you’ll do whatever you want regardless because it’s obvious you’re passionate about receiving respect, but it was worth a shot.

“Is that what you came all the way to Jersey to ask me? Christ, I’m fuckin’ starving, you boys want anything to eat?” You ask, accent heavy as you reach into the side drawer of your desk and pull out what seems to be some kind of meat wrapped in paper.

“Gabagool?” You offer to them, picking out a slice for yourself and placing it in your mouth.

“Gesundheit.” Sam responds.

“It’s pork, you asshole.”

Bucky silently reaches over and picks off a slice of the cured cold cut, putting the meat in his mouth and savoring the flavor. While he can’t stand the way you make a living or the sailor’s mouth you have, he loves Italian food, and actually chose a neighborhood in New York that has plenty of traditional cold cut markets and restaurants to live in in order to fulfill his cravings.

“There’s a big party staged downtown this weekend, we think that’s when the drop is going to happen.” Sam tells you, bringing the focus to their reason for coming here in the first place.

“I’ll send one of my boys.” You reply in between your chews.

“That wasn’t the deal. The deal was you get the serums.” Bucky speaks up.

“Buck, you know how many people want her dead?” Sam tries to reason.

“What the fuck do I have a crew for then? - No, if pretty boy wants me to do it myself, then I will. The same people that want my head are the same fucks who are terrified to be within twenty feet of me in fear they’ll make eye contact. I’m not scared of nothin’.” You say, narrowing your eyes at Bucky.

“What did you guys come here to talk about?” You ask.

Sam looks confused at your expression, “...To go over the plan? Hash out details? So you know how everything’s gonna go?”

“I’ll be fine; I’ve seen The Godfather once or twice,” You tell him, wrapping up the cappo, after Bucky picks off one last slice, and replacing it in the drawer, “Don’t worry Captain, this ain’t my first rodeo. I’ll get the serums for you.” You open a different drawer and pull out a cigar and a lighter.

Bucky watches as you place the large cigar in between your red-painted lips, bringing the flame of your lighter to the end and hollowing your cheeks until smoke exits from the corner of your mouth. Bucky feels blood travel south as his eyes glaze over your hand grab the cigar out of your mouth and blow out a long string of smoke.

“I guess we’ll be in touch then,” Sam stands and Bucky follows after.

“My sister’s wearing blue, so find yourself a nice tie.” You call out, lifting your feet up to cross them on the desk, dress rising and showing your legs.

Bucky blushes, and then laughs as he exits when he hears you, in a deep and more exaggerated accent than your own, “Just when I thought I was out… they pull me back in!”

…

The morning of the party, Sam and Bucky pick you up from your house, planning to take you into New York to discuss final details before tonight.

You get in the passenger seat, Sam offering it to you and climbing in the backseat. As Bucky begins to drive off, your phone rings.

“I told you to leave that.” Bucky says, telling you explicitly to leave electronics here to prevent anyone finding out where you are, and also to avoid any distractions.

“Wanted to see what you’d about it, Sarge,” You wink at him, pulling out a flip phone and answering the call.

“Yeah… Uh huh… He what? Are you fucking kidding me?... Alright… Tell him not to move a fucking muscle.” You hang up, slamming the phone closed.

“Stop at the facility for a sec, I gotta take care of something.” Bucky sighs and turns away from the route to head to your facility.

“Bucky’s going to be going with you tonight, by the way, he’ll be in disguise. Just in case anything goes wrong.” Sam tells you, not really caring anymore about having to make a stop for you to take care of whatever business you need to take care of.

Your only response is a hum as Bucky can feel the anger radiating off your now tense body.

You slam the car door shut as Bucky parks behind a garbage truck outside, not even waiting for him to fully put the car in park before you exit.

Him and Sam follow quickly behind you to see what’s going on. You enter through a side door that leads to a large room, a garage for the trucks, Bucky assumes.

There’s a large truck inside, and racks of suits wrapped in plastic scattered around. A younger man stands near the truck as your crew peruses around the racks, he couldn’t be older than twenty-five years old. Your heels click on the ground as you approach, slowing down as you glance between the suits and the young man. Bucky and Sam hang around a few feet behind your trail.

You stop, fuming, staring at the man before you speak, “You wanna tell me what the fuck happened?”

“I -” He begins, but you cut him off, raising an open hand at him.

“Actually, I don’t even want to hear your fucking voice right now. Because if what I heard you did is true; if what you did to Vinny’s guy is true, you’re gonna be a fuck load of trouble.”

“Can I -”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“But -”

“I said shut the fuck up, Christopher! What part of that don’t you understand?” You yell, and even Bucky feels intimidated.

You turn to your crew, “What the fuck happened.” You demand, more than ask.

“Kid says he tried to take the truck, Vinny’s guy had a gun that fell outta the seat, went off, shot him.” One of the men summarizes, not looking up from the rack of suits.

You raise a manicured hand to pinch between your eyes, “You keep me skinny, Christopher, with all the fucking stress you cause me.”

“Would you let me explain?” He tries.

“If you don’t do as I told you and shut your fucking mouth, you’re gonna be buried with two assholes,” You threaten before continuing.

“They were fuckin’ suits! All you had to do was take the truck! How did you fuck that up -” You stop yourself and sigh, attempting to calm yourself down.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna take all this shit, you’re gonna take it back to Vinny, and you’re gonna tell him what happened yourself.” You finish.

“Marone!” He exclaims, rubbing his face with his hands.

“Enough with the theatrics! You’re lucky I don’t put a bullet in your ass! Now, I don’t see you grabbing that rack and that rack and that rack and putting it back in the truck!” You wave your arms around the room.

The kid sighs and begins grabbing the racks one by one and rolling them back in the truck.

“Would it be such a shame if they all went back?” An older man from your crew asks, already wearing one of the expensive suits. You scoff and laugh.

“Bucky, pick yourself somethin’ nice for tonight,'' You turn to face him, and he jumps at the sound of your now calmer voice being directed at him, as opposed to the harsh one used on Christopher, “On me.” You wink.

...

Sam and Bucky sit on the bed and watch as you get ready. A small apartment near the party that’s already been swept for bugs. A favor, you called it, from someone you know.

They don’t question it.

“You and Bucky will go in together and I’ll be waiting at a secondary location watching and listening to everything.”

Bucky can’t tear his eyes away from your dress. A mermaid dress, he thinks it is, black and tight and hugging you in all the right places, curving around your ass and sleeveless at the top, allowing you to show off a nice necklace and your cleavage. It’s an understatement to say that he’ll enjoy accompanying you tonight, even if it’s in a costume.

His mother probably would’ve loved it if he would’ve gotten with someone like you. Someone who loves their family, a spitfire that wouldn’t take any of his shit, and whose god damn gorgeous. She might’ve had to wash your mouth out with soap, though.

“So, why is Bucky goin’ again?”

“Safety.” Bucky answers.

“Is he going for my safety or am I going for his?” You tease, finishing the last few curls of your hair, smoke coming from the iron after each time you pull your hair away from it.

“Once you find our guy, get talking with him and see if you can get him to make you an offer,” He begins.

“One I can’t refuse?”

“Then, you’ll try and get him alone, see if he’ll show you the serums, and once you do, we’ll be taking care of the rest.” Sam finishes explaining.

Bucky plucks a box from his pocket and opens it to reveal a pair of diamond earrings. One, a camera, and the other, a microphone. You’re also given a comm to hide in your ear so both him and Sam can hear everything and you can hear them.

“Easy - peasy.” You respond.

The ballroom is lively, loud music and people everywhere, and Bucky attunes all the action overwhelming him to a sweat and not that fact that you’re pressed up against him, his arm wrapped around your waist.

About a hundred different people come up to greet you, asking about your family, offering you drinks and food. Bucky can see right through all of them though; they’re all putting on the act out of fear. Everyone’s attention is on you, and Bucky’s sure if he wasn’t in disguise right now, no one would even notice.

You bring him to the middle of the crowd and he can’t be surprised when you start to dance with him, pulling at his arms to get him to loosen up. He complies, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close as the two of you move together.

“I’ll let you know when I spot him.” He tells you, voice causing goosebumps to rise on your neck; goosebumps that he notices but doesn’t point out.

It only takes a song or two before he spots who he’s looking for and sends you over, making sure your com is on, and choosing to stick by the bar, giving him a good view of you and allowing himself a break of having your body pressed against his.

He’s impressed listening to you talk to this guy, voice smooth and sultry, yet still commanding.

He knows there was a lot of talk when you took position as boss; not a lot of people in the mob took you seriously and didn’t think you or a woman in general would be good in that kind of position in power. So, you use that to your advantage to get shit done, and Bucky applauds you for that.

It’s not long before the guy offers to go somewhere more private to discuss business and Bucky follows far behind, Sam praising you through the coms from where he waits in the car outside, watching through the camera in your earring.

Bucky waits outside of a closed office door upstairs, listening to the conversation through the coms but hearing your exclamation through the door when the guys give you his asking price.

“5 mil each?! What do you take me for, some kinda stunad?”

“Take it or leave it.”

“Take it or leave it, yeah, I can put a bullet between your eyes and take it, alright.”

“Stop messing around and take the offer, it’s not real anyway!” Sam tells you, not wanting to lose their chance on the serums.

You ignore him prioritizing your need for respect over the stupid mission, “How do I know these aren’t Kool-Aid pouches poured in glass bottles?”

“Well, I’m certainly not going to test ‘em out for you.” The guy scoffs.

“Stronzo. You’re outta your fucking mind offering me that.”

“I’ll lower the price for you if you give me a little dance, how ‘bout that?”

“Vaffanculo.” You curse at him.

“Up yours, lady!” He yells back, and Sam sees through the camera, he grabs at you.

“Buck, get in there.” Sam tells him, and it only takes Bucky a second to kick open the door.

He’s a bit taken aback when he not only sees the case of serums out on the table, but you holding the man bent over the small table in the middle of the room next to the serums, gun held to the back of his head.

He very quickly decides that you’re fine and moves to grab the serums, closing the case and holding it securely in his left hand.

“Don’t kill the guy.”

You stay silent and Bucky looks at you again. He can almost see the steam coming out of your ears and he notices a small cut on your cheek bone. He looks down to the man’s cowering figure and notices a large ring on his hand.

You mumble something in Italian to the man, a threat of some kind that Bucky can guess given how the man shuts his eyes and shakes a bit under your hold. Sam finally enters the room, military grade handcuffs in hand.

“Feds are on their way, get her out of here.” He tells Bucky.

You slowly lift the gun off the man’s head and stand up straighter, walking over to brush past Bucky in the direction of the back door.

He makes eye contact with Sam and gives him a nod before following after you, watching as you scrunch up the bottom of your dress to replace the gun in an ankle holster. Once outside, he stops you under a street light near the car and raises his hand to look at your cheek.

“We gotta get going,” You swat at his hand.

“You’re still bleeding.” He says, using his thumb to brush away the line of blood, smearing a red tinge on your skin.

He looks into your eyes and for a second he sees the tough exterior drop. The face of someone who got smacked across the cheek all for mouthing off at some asshole.

Your vulnerability doesn’t last long, though, as you sniff and walk towards the car, opening the passenger door and sitting inside before Bucky can make it over there to open the door for you.

The drive back to the apartment is silent, and Bucky doesn’t know what to do or say to fill the silence. Stepping into the apartment, you immediately go to change and collect your things. Bucky moves to the bathroom to look for a first aid kit of some kind.

He meets you in the room and you’re now in cotton pants and a large t-shirt, sandals on your feet showing the bright red color of your toenails and the lines indented in your skin from how tight your heels were. You’re hanging up the dress and zipping it back in the cover when Bucky drops the first aid kit on the bed.

“Christ, it’s only a small cut.” You mumble.

“Just - Let me, would you?”

He takes out the liquid of disinfectant and soaks a cotton pad, cleaning off your cheek bone with it before covering it with healing ointment and a bandaid.

You don’t thank him when he finishes and he huffs as he closes the kit, “When do you drop the act, huh?”

“I don’t.”

“Really?” Bucky asks in annoyed disbelief.

“No. People tend to try and have me whacked when I drop the act.”

He sighs, “So, what, nobody ever takes care of you? Treats you? You don’t have any days off? Time to be yourself?”

“This lifestyle doesn’t really allow me to have days off, Sergeant Barnes.” You snap, gathering the dress in your hands and turning to face him completely.

“Take me home, I’m tired and my feet hurt.”

You leave him in the room and he waits an extra few seconds before dropping the conversation and following you out.

...

Bucky opens the back door to the environmental facility with his right hand and sees the door to your office open, you and your crew sitting together surrounded by cigar smoke and he can hear a TV on.

“Sir, please step into the vehicle.”

“Like the cop would be callin’ this asshole Sir if the fuckin’ cameras weren’t around!” You wave a hand at the TV, not yet seeing Bucky standing there.

He finds it funny that the gnarliest criminals - the literal Mafia - spend their time watching shitty, scripted cop shows.

It’s been about two weeks since the mission with you where you retrieved the serums. Sam went to prom with your sister five days ago, which was hilarious for him, especially when he got photo prints of different sizes in the mail at his apartment. He didn’t bother thinking about how you found his address.

One of the men sitting next to you glances his way and sees him standing there, smirking at the vision of him; hair combed slightly back and to the side, and a large bouquet of flowers in his right hand and a small paper box in his left.

“You got company, Boss.” He says.

You look over to the doorway and your jaw drops in an open-mouthed smile.

“Look at googootz! Now this is a man that knows how to treat a lady, are you boys paying attention?” You tease, scurrying over to him and pinching one of his cheeks, resting your free hand on his large bicep to guide him into the room, the rest of your crew ushering out to give the two of you privacy.

“What’s in the box?”

“Cannoli.”

You throw your head back with an exaggerated moan, “You know the way to an Italian woman’s heart, Sergeant Barnes. What’s with all the gifts?”

“Thought I’d treat you.” Is all his response is.

You narrow your eyes at him and stand up a little straighter, crossing your arms over your chest.

The last conversation before he dropped you off that night hasn’t escaped his mind. He understands the difficulties of life - how it’s hard to find time for yourself among the busy schedule that is existing. He catches himself sometimes, too, forcing his body to run with no sleep, burning through all of his energy until he’s completely drained and blaming it on life.

But life’s not always like that. Life allows for days off. For treats. For a bit of kindness. And Bucky’s come to show you just that.

“What, a beautiful woman like you never received flowers and pastries before?” He says, taking a half-step forward to be close enough to look you closer in the eyes.

“Are you flirting with me?” You whisper in amusement.

His eyes glance away from yours to look down at your red-painted lips. He gives you a shy smirk, really turning up the charm. For a big, bad, boss, you’re pretty easy to break down.

“Let me take you out tonight.”

“Maybe I’ve got plans.”

“Cancel ‘em.”

“What makes you think you’re worth canceling plans for?”

“Why don’t you trust me and find out?”

“You should know by now, Sergeant Barnes, that I don’t trust.”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, setting the box of cannoli on your desk before reaching his now free hand up to your face, using his finger to brush away a stray hair and push it behind your ear.

He then takes a hold of one of your hands, turning it over to place a kiss on the top of it, before wrapping your fingers around the flowers in his other hand, forcing you to take them.

“No restaurant you’ve been to a hundred times over, no drama, no business. Just a man trying to treat a lady.” You look down at the flowers before meeting his eyes again.

“I get to pick the place.”

“No.”

“The kind of food.”

“No.”

“The -”

“No. Let me take care of everything.” Bucky insists, determined to get you to give up control for the first time in what he can only imagine has been a very long time.

Bucky knows better than anyone how terrifying it is to give up control. It was terrifying when he was forced to give up control, his free will taken away from him in the war for decades upon decades, but it’s terrifying even now when he has to do it as a free man. It makes a person vulnerable. When was the last time you were allowed to be vulnerable for somebody?

“I’m gonna pick you up here at six. Wear something nice and leave the executive attitude at home.” He finishes, leaving you with the flowers and cannoli before returning back outside, ignoring the stares he receives from you crew who wait patiently outside your office.

He feels your eyes follow him at the door, and he can’t wait to sweep you off your feet tonight.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes mob au #bucky barnes x mobboss!reader #mob au #marvel #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes oneshot #even tho bucky wants her to give up control we all know he prob likes being yelled atin italian #and that the real reason he wants to take you out

207 notes · View notes

sposp0 · 3 years ago

Text

ahh i keep forgetting about this page!! failed today bc my family wanted to get fast food and i just.. idk fell into it. i don’t have an excuse. ate 1587cal which scares the shit out of me but hey, it’s still in a deficit so even though it’ll make me lose a LOT slower im still losing and that’s all that matters. i’ve learned that being super harsh on myself just doesn’t work after a while so im now trying the approach of being like a patient mom with a bratty child. i keep misbehaving and doing things i know damn well i shouldn’t but my patient mom self is just standing there gently correcting me and encouraging me to persevere. i think it’ll work honestly, the few times i’ve relapsed after “recovering” i’ve always given up by this point, but rn i still feel just as motivated. even though so far it’s been hit or miss, i know im losing, and honestly at this point im willing to wait longer. i think eventually i’ll be able to get ahold of myself and stay under 800cal a day and lose faster so im not worried. if i had adopted this strategy instead of hopelessly bingeing and hating myself for failing which only led to more binges i would be 115lbs by now, easy.

anyway i wanted to rant bc i can’t do it on my instagram where i normally would bc yk people do not know about my ed so im doing it here yay!!! i am just feeling so resentful and jealous tonight idk. i was just laying in bed thinking about my body, feeling it, hating it yk as per usual, and then i open tiktok and see this skinny mf who is like my body goals ed-wise and gender-wise just dancing around in a doorway and of course all the comments are just worshipping them, and it just made me so upset. im always upset about this. it’s like people can consider fat people beautiful only under certain strict conditions, and even then there’s still a TON of people saying they’re ugly. but skinny people? shit, you can look like anything and people will just effortlessly find you attractive if you’re skinny. it’s the default. it’s neutral. it’s just automatically attractive. and that’s such bullshit and it makes me so mad. why don’t I have that? GOD

and like the other day i thought something to myself that’s really been resonating w me & i keep thinking about it despite literally starving myself rn, & it’s “my body will look like what it’s meant to look like.” bc yes i lost a ton of weight while i was starving myself and then gained even more back once i stopped. i had gotten to the point where i was just eating whatever i wanted to without caring. it tasted good. i enjoyed it. so i ate it. and that was so fucking great, but it resulted in me gaining like 20lbs. and i kind of had this thought that like, hey, when i let myself be free and eat what i want, this body is the result. maybe this is what im meant to look like. i just wish i could fucking accept that, you know? and i wish it were the ideology everyone adopted. not skinny = attractive, not everyone should strive to be thin, but everyone’s body is unique and beautiful and everyone’s body looks like what it’s meant to look like. i mean, imagine being unlimited in your food choices and it’s just completely okay? whatever you want to eat and whatever body results from that is okay? not even necessarily super attractive, just okay. man.

i’ve also noticed im chubby enough now that my hip bones don’t poke into the mattress. this is a plus bc i can lay on my stomach, v comfortable, but also a minus because im anorexic and oh my fucking god it used to hurt to lay like this bc my hips were so sharp and now it doesn’t and i need to lose this weight right now. so i am conflicted.

anyway. things are going alright. wish me luck on my exams lol i am not feeling confident

#ghost rants

2 notes · View notes

ziracona · 4 years ago

Note

so can u tell us a little about ur characterization of Lisa?? What's she like inside and outside of trials? Does she have a lot of lucidity, what were her relationships with others like, would she ever get better, do you think? ( im SAD.) Just. What's she like!! Also, same for Sally? Oh! And I'm rly enjoying two songs by Meg Myers which maybe you'll like? Running up that hill (Cover) and Desire. Maybe check em out? :3 - Sleepy

Sure!

My Lisa is from a bit before the archives for her placed her (early 1970s), because I wrote ILM back when there was no date given for many killers or survivors, so I just hoped they were historically accurate with the things they did mention & went through a fairly exhaustive list of drained swamps in the Southern US & paddleboat makes & placed her according to that data (it’s been a bit so I don’t remember the exact date without looking up my notes) in the 1920s-1930s, I believe? And in her early 20s, since she’s described as a girl & young woman, which DbD usually does only for characters in their early 20s. (Which I’d still assume is her age, bc even though her archives, if you go by them, have her in her teens, they’re not connected to the events of her disappearance/definitely happened before them.)

In trials, Lisa has like 0 lucidity. I talk about this some in chapter notes, so I’ll try to give a quick overview instead but sry if I restart myself. She’s so starved that any time she sees a living being, she is just completely overcome with hunger and can’t do anything but operate on it. Very scary. Feral. Like being attacked by a starving animal. She’s super out of it, and is completely wild and violent and has no control, only the need to eat. Outside of trials, if no one is around, she’s lucid again, but will remember trials and what she did to people, and spends that time in horror and despair. She’s tried to kill herself before, because the last thing she ever wanted was to become the thing she swore vengeance on (the Entity’s a real cruel motherfucker. Did the same to Rin, to Philip, to everyone it could. Likes to really twist decent people into what they would most despair to be), but in the realm, she’s stuck as it. She’s not really aware for trials, but remembers them with decent clarity, and is in constant agony over what she’s done. Unfortunately, suicide does not take in the realm, and every one of her attempts failed, just like her attempts to maim or tie herself up so she wouldn’t be able to hurt people did. She’s horribly alone and despairing, and also in physical agony. She’s at the worst end of what a human can be at as far as emaciation and starvation while still being alive goes, and that’s physically awful. It fucks up your brain chemistry too, and everything is just really fucking miserable all the time. It hurts to move, it hurts to breathe, your breath smells tastes like rotten fruit but in a way that’s so much worth than that can sound. She’s so hungry, her addons are things like dragonfly wings consumed to give her extra stamina. That’s the kind of bare sliver of relief she ever gets. God, poor Lisa’s life is hell. She’s completely heartbroken and isolated and almost dead. As far as relationships go, she didn’t have any for a long time. No one can really interact with her, because she goes feral at the sight of food. She’s kinda utterly alone. But briefly, when Alex, Philip, Vigo, Benedict, and Sally were a group, she kind of got stumbled into, and after a kind of nasty first encounter, was able to regain lucidity around other people, and had a truly sweet and memorable and invaluable bit of time with love and friends and other people. She was kind of in love with Sally, who did her hair for her and was really kind to her, and Sally liked her too. They were close. Lisa was close with all of them. But when things ended the way they did, the Entity took that away. Lisa remembers it, but she could never get them or it back, and was cast aside and left behind until the end of ILM, when she finally got peace and found happiness in finally getting to be at rest in the arms of a friend. Overal, she’s a fairly young and wide-eyed, bright, cautious, fun and sweet girl by nature, now massively traumatized and hopeless and broken, but still with a truly incredible amount of that kind nature retained. She would have really loved reading fantasy novels aloud and exploring the worlds of lore and history, travelling, seeing other cultures and geographic features and animals. Enjoys fashion too, and has a heart for designing and making cool, personal and cultural and symbolic tied designs, and would have been both great at that and loved it if she’d lived long enough. (Shoutout to @artianaiolanthe who inspired the fashion take & it is so suited to her I love it). A little shy, but an extrovert at heart under it, just a nervous one. Loved people. Liked climbing trees and fording brooks and baking bread and throwing rocks and baseballs to knock a target out of a tree and win a prize at little town fairs. Didn’t get the length or quality of life she was owed, and it’s just not fair or okay at all. Liked to watch the stars.

As far as getting better goes, mentally, totally. If they could get her out of the realm or break the Entity’s connection, she’d immediately stop killing. She has never done it of her own free will. She’s a sweet small town kid who was just trying to live her life. As far as physically goes though, Lisa is in one of the worst possible spots. Unlike say Amanda, who was on death’s door but healed by the Entity, or the Legion, who weren’t injured at all, Lisa was on death’s door and like Adiris, did not get healed. Just preserved in that near-death state and forced to work in it. Honestly, it’s possible she could survive long enough to get to a hospital and be saved, but at best, she’d probably live another year. When you starve, your body begins to catabolize/eat your own tissue to save itself, starting with fat, and ending with muscles and organs, which, when it reaches the heart, kills you. Lisa was so close to dead, the organ damage was probably awful, and would leave her with complications that would take her very young. The most likely thing, since she was saved literally seconds before death, would be for her to step outside the realm and immediately die. However, it’s possible she got lucky on body damage and could be saved—kinda up to interpretation—and if say, she was around for Quentin’s Vigil going healing batshit, and got some organs repaired that way, she’d have a real shot. (I also am sad. Lisa was actually the only determinate character in ILM to me/that I wasn’t sure the ending for, and while I am very happy with what ended up being her closure, I also would like to see her live for even more love and peace TuT. Lol, if I ever end up doing my goddamn four fate route fics like I’ve joked now a truly dangerous number of times about doing [>.> me @ me] then maybe she will get a variety of lives in the end). I’m glad you wanted to know! I really like and pity her. This poor kid really did nothing wrong, much like Rin, and just got eternally tortured for asking for help and justice against the monsters who took her life so violently. Fuck Brittany. (Read: the Entity.)

Ahhhh Sally. My sweet, sweet girl. Uhhh, not sure which of the Lisa questions you meant for her too, so I’ll try to speed-answer them all? Sally’s intelligent and understanding and thoughtful, patient, polite, almost elegant despite how impoverished she spent most of her life—she just tries to act like a lady and treat people with as much respect and esteem as she can (unless they suck lol). She’s also very mentally damaged and not there though, and has extremely unstable mood swings, especially into despair. Her relationships with the other killers were limited. She talked to & was on polite terms with any who would talk to her and not be condescending or a dick so openly she’d pick up on it (so like, on cordial terms with Evan, Herman, Caleb if she’d been there that long, but not like, Kenneth or Freddy or someone who wouldn’t bother to put up an act). But mostly, after figuring out she wasn’t really of any use to them, they quit communicating with her. Sally has been extremely isolated since shortly after being taken. She believes that the survivors are innocent and suffering and knows that they don’t deserve the hunt, but has no way to stop the whole system, and has been convinced by the Entity that if she does a good job and earns moris, the ones she strangles to death get to stay dead instead of coming back after death to suffer endlessly again, so she works very dedicatedly and slowly trying to earn kills to save them. It took her physical eyes when it got her and lets her see through it’s powers, and uses that to randomize what survivors look like in her memory so she doesn’t catch wise it’s the same people over and over and she’s not saving them at all. It’s extremely tragic. God it’s one of the most cruel Entity tricks, which is saying a lot. Poor gentle woman is Sisyphus pushing a boulder up a hill day after day year after year and she doesn’t even know how hopeless and meaningless it all is. : (

When the Vigo-Philip-Alex-Benedict team was going, though, she met and attacked, then was convinced to instead befriend them, and quickly became very attached and well liked by them. Met Lisa while with the group, and became extremely fond of her and loving towards her and was truly, truly happy for a brief period of time. Still remembers her, even as lost as all her memories are. Not her name, but what she looked like to Sally, and how her hair felt, and how nice it was. Sally would have considered everyone in that group a dear friend, and in ILM, Philip most definitely becomes her deepest, closest, and best friend, just like she does to him. She’s a very faithful woman to her soul. Loved her family, loved her husband and mourned him, worked as hard as she could. Cared for her patients, and did her best in that hell until the Entity slowly whittled away at her sanity until it broke her mind and left her convinced the only way to end their pain would be to give them death, and she had to do it to save them. Sally loves little pretty things and neatness and collections. Flowers, bows and ribbons, china and colored glass. She would have treasured gifts like decorative holiday cards and carved animal figures and left them on her mantle or carefully tucked in lovingly organized and decorated books she could open to revisit the memory. Likes dresses and skirts and the way the wind feels. Hopeful and very enduring. Loving. Had a mom heart, and will never really get entirely over the loss of her children, but is strong and kind and will find new love that makes life still worth living in other people. Will remember both kindness and cruelty a long, long time. Loved Quentin from the second he gave her flowers (Dwight: Quentin, why did the entity let you have three moms? Quentin: Because I fucking earned it >:[“ [author’s note: he did. God that poor kid...]). Loved Kate from the day she sat with her in a hospital and held her hand. Is like that. Remembers small kindness and treasures them.

Sally could definitely recover. Not all the way probably, physically or mentally, but by far enough to be complete and happy and realized and who she wants. She never meant to hurt people, so she really just needs some stability, and I think she finds that with her new family. I mean, it is a lot to adjust to. It’s been like nearly 100 years. The Entiry broke her mind, and she’s got some damage that just probably can’t ever be fixed, but a lot can be, with drugs and treatments and therapy and kindness and a good support system, and honestly, the biggest things she needs are people to keep her memories together and herself present, and influences to protect her from being manipulated and controlled now that she’s so suggestible and easy to hurt, and she’s got that. I am 100% certain that while some things—the scatteredness, the ease of slipping into other moods especially deep sadness, the different way of thinking altogether—never leave her, she gets better in the most important ways and is truly happy and quite functional and what she wants to be. While there’s no way (yet anyway lol. Cybernetics that good when?) to give her new eyes since the Entity ripped hers out, and she’s blind now, and can’t be changed, her seeing eye dog does a great job for her, and she’s very happy and adjusts well. She has a lot of friends to be her eyes, and learns to lean into what she can do and has a quite fulfilling and blissful life outside the realm in ILM.

Also: thanks for the recs! I’m going on a run soon, and I’ll add those to my iPod and give ‘em a listen if I can. Hope this answered what you wanted to know! ^u^

#ask #sleepy #in living memory (fic)#in living memory #ilm spoilers #dead by daylight #Lisa Sherwood #Sally Smithson #long post

15 notes · View notes

tea-rexxia · 4 years ago

Text

lol. i missed day 3/4/5/6/7/8/9 whoops.

3: thinspooo. i love her flat belly. thats always been my biggest concern about my own body :/ and she looks so cute in high waisted undies ! i always look like a grandma cow. sigh. her boobs r the perfect size, her arms r tiny and her jawline is gorg. i wish i looked this pretty while smoking in my underwear. i dont even wanna see what i look like doing that .....

4: my greatest fear about weightloss.. hmm. i guess people noticing too much, like my mom. n like being genuinely concerned and then fuck thatd b bad. im also just afraid ofnlosing self control after doing so well and then gaining evvverrythinngg baacckkkk.

5: ive wanted to lose weight for 8 years. since i hit puberty prrtty much. ive always envied skinny girls. i never was one. i want to be skinny and pretty. i want to wear anything and feel beautiful. i want to eat a tiny tiny amount and be full and be dainty and cute and lightweight. i hate food. i hate what its done to me. i fucking hate it. im losing weight for me because im an independant ass woman and i know i can do this if i rlly set my mind to it.

6: ugh yes i binge. who doesnt *cries* skinny girls dont. i binge because for a second i really believe that i dont care and no fucks r given. i make excuses in my head on why i dont need to starve. “you’re so average! u can totally have that giant quesorito from chipotle and eat the whole thing, ur fine!” then afterwards ana is like “biiitch u rlly did dat? ur so fat, look at urself.” then i proceed to eat whatever i want that day because i already did. i give up on that day and tell myself ill starve tomorrow. terrible cycle, i do not reccomend.

7: i think my parents have always known that ive wanted to lose weight/tried to. its not that they don’t care, they’re pretty laid back about my random diet changes. but they definitely dont expect me to have an ed and id like to keep it that way.

8: my workout routine. lol. aint even a routine. more like a “workout when i feel like it” tbh sometimes id rather starve for long period than workout. ive never “liked” working out. only sometimes. i walk, i walk everywhere, all the time. sometimes i run but i like to smoke so eh, not too fun. i have an ab workout that i do (try to do it often ish) thats amaazzing and great and has already been improving my bodii. ill post it!

9: lol negative weight comments? all the time. growing up, when i hit puberty, my boobs were a 34DDD. i hid my body under large clothes that realistically made me look larger. people would call me a cow and make fun of me. ill never forget that. my mom, my sister, my grandfather, and my boyfriend always make comments about what im eating, if i am, and i dont think its purposefully them trying to hurt me, but they dont know that it does. and its hard to tell them that. my boyfriend will take the plate from under me, he’ll say “you don’t want that” when i want to order something xtra, he’ll say “you don’t need that” i mean cmon... then u say “i love ur body. nothing wrong with it.” likeeee dont say that shit to me then. bc ur my biggest influence lowkey. in negative and positive ways, like i wanna b thin and pretty for u but then u say stuff to me like dis? wut do i do wit dis??? thats rlly rough and always makes me feel super low low low and down. and he mentions other girls that r skinny or people that dont eat and im like heeyy im over here starving my goddamn self and im losing NO WEIGHT WHATSOEVER so dont tell me about people like that bc it doesnt help me at all😞

ima go cry now lol omg.

drink ur water babes. thanks for reading if u did :/

3 notes · View notes

sortagaysortahigh · 5 years ago

Note

wow i needed this like check in thing. lately i’ve been absolutely struggling. i can’t eat anything (i’ve been starving myself for months and my parents refuse to believe it because i’m fat) i have a serious self harm addiction that i just can’t seem to break, i have crippling anxiety making me bed ridden for days, and i feel like everyone in my life hates me even tho i know they don’t.

ik what its like to not be able to take a break from it harming yourself, and in a way it is very addicting especially because it gives you a release and it can seem satisfying and fulfilling bc youve been doing it for so long. Im not gonna lie to you and say it gets better overnight, especially when it comes to starving yourself, ive been there. I know its hard to get out of bed sometimes bc of your anxiety and ik it fucking sucks when you have anxiety and an eating disorder (diagnosed or not).

What i am gonna tell you is something i hold very close to my heart and its that your clothes are meant to fit you, youre not meant to fit your clothes. As in dont try to make yourself fit into a mold and harm yourself in that process based on what those around you have made you think. You’re beautiful and worthy and i know it might be hard to think that now, but trust me, i wouldn’t lie to you bubba. I know its hard to eat when you havnt for months, but eating a spoonful of something is better than eating nothing in one day.

Also i will be making a post of hotlines and resources in the US (and later worldwide) for people struggling with eating disorders, anxiety, self harm, etc.

#lexs mental health check in #tw: self harm #tw: s*lf h*rm #tw: ed thoughts #tw: ed #tw: ed behaviors

2 notes · View notes

insvisiblestrings · 5 years ago

Text

some personal venting feel free 2 ignore//

I weighed myself today and I’m going to be hospitalized if I lose any more and I’m really trying to go to school this fall but I really just? can’t gain weight :(( and I think I’m trying but also I’m a malnourished anorexic so my brain is slow so maybe im wrong. but im scared to count my calories to make sure im getting enough bc despite crazy weight loss I haven’t been counting and thats! good! except I have no idea what I’m doing.

and I had $30 and I was dumb and like “ooh I wanna buy clothes and makeup” (bc vain anorexic stereotype, ofc) but now my therapist is like “buy ensure or I’ll have them give it to you in a tube at the hospital!!” but I cannot afford ensure I cannot afford anything and I have no one to even ask to buy me ensure and I don’t want to be like “hey cashapp me money so i dont starve to death” but like..... its getting really bad. like its scary. people hug me and their arms go around me twice and they say “are you ok?” really concerned sounding and I’m covered in fat but my bones ache and my spine is bruised from the seat of a car and my ass is bruised from sitting in bed and nothing makes sense and it EXTRA doesn’t make sense because my brain is so so starved and I just.

I have a math test tomorrow and I’m accepting the fail because. my brain is fried. I’m trying so hard to gain weight but I just keep losing. Bread and ice cream and junk food AND my usual fruits and veggies and I just can’t. and I’m really afraid to be hospitalized. I don’t need to be there I want to get better I’m in therapy I just can’t gain weight. and I found a 24 pack of 240cal Boost for $27 which would be great if I had more than 80 cents in my bank account rn. God. I just want to get better.

#I finished typing that and thought 'ooh but i love being skinny' literally hate myself #but yeah uh #have lost 52lbs in 2 months #i gotta get some phat calories #weight ment tw #calories tw #ed tw #long post #personal

1 note · View note

transmasc-malleus · 6 years ago

Text

Hey uhhhhh rant time

Sorry I’m on mobile so no read more

Living in this house is literally killing us. I didn’t think it would be this bad but we’re both sinking into a depression. My gf never goes downstairs and would rather starve herself than interact in any capacity with my grandma. I don’t blame her. I’m at the point where I’m resenting HER for things my grandma caused. I’m bitter that I’m the one who has to deal with it all, who has to fight her to eat, who has to cook and clean and beg her to leave the house. But I know it’s not her fault. This is her way of coping with an impossible situation, a situation she moved half a country away from when she left home. And here she is dealing with it again, except she’s actually afraid to speak back bc she fears the rest of the house will hate her. And I feel the same. It’s not worth my mental and emotional well-being to argue with my grandma or even just try to shut her down. It’ll just cause more problems. But having to sit there as she TRIES to rile me up, tries to get me to fight, tries to hurt me with what she says....is almost worse. The manipulation and the hurtful things she says, the way she aggressively dismisses me and acts like I’m an idiot. I just can’t anymore.

I don’t even want to hang out with my dad anymore bc all I talk about is how I can’t deal with her and it’s not fair to him when he KNOWS all this. But his only solution- one that only works for him cause she actually respects him somewhat- is to ignore her or shut it down. But unless I lose all of my self control, which I will one day, I’ll never be able to get the words out bc I’ve been conditioned not to through abuse. But now she’s threatening things that have no way of understanding her. Angrily suggesting I declaw my cat bc she acts like a living being instead of a stuffed cat. Yelling at my cat at every turn. Blaming every small thing on my cat bc I’m never around enough for her to blame things on me. Having her act like we don’t contribute to the household bc in her eyes “we’re selfish” for not always cooking dinner for everyone, or for wanting certain food to be ours only. I’m at my fucking wits end with her. But my gf is becoming too depressed to even leave the house. And it fucking infuriated me that she feels trapped in this tiny room because my grandma can’t learn to give us even a hint of respect. The fact that the woman I love has to stay confined and starving bc it’s too triggering for her to listen to the shit my grandma spews. The fact that the woman I love is having psychotic breakdowns again bc of the stress being in this shit hole causes her. It makes me want to pack up our shit and tell my grandma to go fuck herself and never talk to me again.

But we don’t have the money, we don’t have the means. So we’re stuck here. We’re stuck here and no one understands why we want to move out so desperately. I just want to scream that it’s all her fault and that I wish she had never had the chance to even interact with me as a child. I want to get angry and MAKE her understand that this has nothing to do with my gf and I. It’s not that we’re “too sensitive” or think we’re “special snowflakes” it’s HER and her fucking inability to give a single shit about anyone but herself. It’s her and her beef with us bc we don’t agree on anything. It’s her and her narcissism. Her and her abuse. Just like it was HER fault that I wanted to kill myself- I was just too blind and too manipulated by her to truly see it. She always blamed me so it must’ve been my fault. It must’ve been my selfishness. I must’ve wanted to tear the family apart. But not fucking anymore. Im not going to let ANYONE on this fucking house tell me how to deal with her. I’m not gonna let them tell me that I’m being unreasonable or passive aggressively act like I’m the bad guy. Im not gonna let my uncle make me feel bad for treating her with the same respect she gives me. I’m not gonna let my dad tell me “he wishes I could just learn to ignore her”. I’m fucking done I’m over it. We pay rent. There is not fucking reason we should be treated like children getting a free pass through housing.

There’s no reason I should have to shut my mouth and clench my fists to suit her needs. No reason I should have other people shut down what I’m saying bc “I just wanna start shit.” I should’ve gave to seeth in anger and start shaking from anxiety just to keep the peace. Why should I placate her when she starts every. Single. Thing. Why should I be the one to suffer because she can’t fucking shut her mouth for one fucking second if people aren’t paying enough attention to her. Why should I just let her call me fat and sensitive and just take her abuse? Why do I have to feel like I should be ashamed? Why am I ashamed to stand up to her? I just don’t know how much longer until I snap and then I really become the bad guy because I’ll go at her without any restraint. How much longer until I can’t take it anymore and I scream and cry in her face laying out everything she’s done to hurt me and keep me in my place only to have her call my a snowflake and go running to my dad? How long until I’m the one whose asked if it was worth it and I’ll feel too afraid to say yes. Dad said to my gf that he would choose me over him mom every time. He would kick her out before he would ever dream of kicking me out. But honestly. I don’t know if I believe that. I don’t know if I can trust my dad to have my back. And that fucking hurts. It hurts to feel like I’m always the bad guy by default. That I’m always the one escalating. It hurts that I get blamed for my reaction to her. That it’s ok for her to act this way bc she’s old and she won’t change. I don’t deserve this. My gf doesn’t deserve this. And I’m fucking done. I won’t placate anyone’s feelings. I won’t let her stomp walk all over me bc she knows I won’t do anything. I don’t care anymore. If I’m seen as the bad guy, if I’m seen as the instigator. I don’t fucking care. I’m doing this for me. I’m the only one whose gonna stand up for myself in this house. And if that causes tension? Fuck it. I don’t deserve to live in constant fear and anxiety. If that makes everyone else uncomfortable they can go fuck themselves for letting it get this far. I’m not gonna take it anymore. From now on I’m not fucking around. Im gonna take that anger and I’m gonna let her feel it. Let her know that she’s a monster that made me like this. I don’t deserve this.

#rant #vent #delete later #tw abuse #long post

2 notes · View notes

captain-linky · 6 years ago

Text

Idk if this is the right place for this but idc

So. This is really just going to be a sum-up of the shit I've done/been through. Just because I feel fucked up and friends follow me on every other social media so this is the only safe place you know.

My cousin sexually abused me from the age of five - nine

My mum got mad at me for it

My parents often fight. My dad screams a lot.

My parents emotionally abused me (i think)

We moved every two years bc of my Dad's work, so I never had friends for long

My parents are from Afghanistan. My brother and I are born in Germany. We've always been the outlanders, no matter if in Germany or in Holland (which is where i live now)

My brother and I fight a lot. Not just normal sibling fights. Sometimes it actually got physical.

My brother is really skinny and I have always been a fat/chubby one. He often made "jokes" about it with cousin(s) of ours. He knows I don't like it. He used to make fun of me more when I'd start crying.

I used to help my mum VERY much at home. I don't anymore because they were never thankful and my mind is too fucked up to handle their shit for years now.

I wouldn't call it bullying, but I was made fun of at one school I went to (switched schools often bc of the moving around thing)

I was depressed at the age of nine. Maybe before that but that's when I found out what "depression" is and when I started referring to myself as depressed.

I started self-harming at the age of ten (?? If Im not mistaken, maybe 11 tho)

My personally changed drastically a few times. First I was the stupid outlander ai guess, then the teachers' pet, then the you-dont-want-to-mess-with-her (she'll hit you) bad-ass girl, and now what I think is my true self someone polite and good mannered, but also someone who doesnt shy away from giving someone the shit they deserve. I changed bc no one ever seemed to actually like me

I started having sleep problems at the age of ten/eleven

I almost killed myself at the age of eleven, but blew off my plans

I started starving myself/developing an eating disorder at the age of twelve

I started talking to the school counselor at the age of thirteen

I realised I am touch starved at the age of thirteen. I had probably been for years, but that's when I learned about it and started referring to myself as touch starved.

My family is Muslim and raised me as such but I am an atheist. They don't know yet. I am not planning on telling them.

I am bisexual/pansexual, I dont know which one yet. Either way I'm attracted to both genders and personality is important to me. My family doesn't know yet and I'm not planning on telling them.

I started writing at the age of ten

I always sang but the first time I sang in front of others was when I was twelve.

I am very smart. I always got the best grades. My parents still tell me I have the worst grades and no university will ever accept me.

Anxiety got very very bad when I was thirteen. I once had three panic attacks on one day.

I started thinking of alcohol a lot from the age of thirteen. My dad has a lot of alcohol in his room and in the garage (says it's for when he retires or for guests and/or parties)

I found a bottle of alcohol when my parents weren't home when I was thirteen. I drank the tiniest sip. Then another tiny sip. That's "all".

I wanted that taste again and searched for more alcohol when my parents weren't home. I found a small bottle of 12% and took it up my room. I took one small sip from it.

Today, I am thirteen years old and six months. This is what I've been through. This is what I struggle with. The last thing happened today. I just took another sip. I don't know how many mental breakdowns I have had lately but I'm so very tired. I'm not going to kill myself, I'm not stupid, but I just want to sleep until I feel better. Thanks for reading.

1 note · View note

ghoulstars · 6 years ago

Text

im only posting this bc i desperately need to exorcise this thought somewhere bc it wont fucking leave me alone

those of you who know me personally or follow my instagram know about this but for those of you who dont: in a horrible turn of events, our plan to put down our geriatric yellow labrador retriever dixie was unfortunately and unexpectedly doubled today to having to put down our 3 year old engam bulldog, bean, as well

when we got him in mid december, 2015 he was barely out of puppyhood, we found him wandering around near the highway at our local gas station with a collar and no tag, trying to jump into two out-of-towner girls’ car. my stepdad intervened bc they couldnt take bean with them obviously, and brought him home instead.

we put up lost dog flyers everywhere all over our very small city, in an attempt to maybe see if someone would indeed come forward for their dog. we knew he wasnt just a stray because of his collar.

almost right off the bat, we were told by a woman who worked at the gas station that there was a man who lived in the trailer park just across the road, located behind the pancake diner. you can see it from the gas station parking lot. she told us that he had a lot of dogs that he typically kept chained up outside in poor conditions, and beat them regularly. to us? it seemed totally reasonable that that must’ve been where bean came from, given the fact he was a dog and we found him literally less than 50 feet away from where this fucking man lived.

no one came forward to claim bean. we kept those flyers up for months, we only put them up to begin with knowing he may have been thrown out by (or escaped from) this disgusting man just because there was the possibility that it wasn’t his dog, but someone else’s. as well as the potential for legal intervention if this fabled abuser found out we had technically stolen his dog (and full disclosure, fuck him for what he does, i hope all his dogs get stolen like they need to be, i myself was not fond of the idea of just giving the dog back to this creep if he was indeed the owner but i was only 16 at the time so there wasnt much i could do)

with no one claiming bean, after those months passed, we decided that he was ours now. flyers were taken down, we gave him his collar and nametag, to be real he’d already been named by us in the first few days we had him. he was going to be ours no matter what; my mother always told me its a rule that if you name a stray, and do it quick before anyone can object to keeping it, it’s yours now. that’s your pet, with it’s new name.

so we carried on with our lives, now having not just one dog, but two. it was a bit iffy with my stepfather keeping bean since we didnt technically need to manage two dogs at the time, but we still did it anyways because we loved him, the little bean man.

but here’s where my problem lies and this is why im writing this now: as time went on and we continued to have bean as our pet, some stuff about the original suggestion that he belonged to an abusive older man who lived in close proximity to where we found bean wasnt adding up

due to dixie’s failing body, she would sometimes lose control of her bowels inside the house, which was becoming unacceptable when she stayed in overnight. so, she stayed outside. she and bean bonded, so they stayed outside together too. (and for clarity here, i know what some of you might want to say, but we knew very early on that bulldogs do not do well with heat or isolation. we also know that dixie probably shouldve been put down years ago, but here’s the trouble: my stepfather would not let us euthanize her. she is his dog technically, and the thought hurt him so much that he would not agree to it for YEARS. dixie and bean were too attached to separate them for long periods of time like they would be if we kept bean inside mostly and her outside mostly; that would’ve been cruel in its own special way. we put pools out for bean and visited with both dogs for as much as we could outside, bathed them, put fans out for them in the summer. our only option to give bean the main love and care he needed was, and of course we had other reasons to do this, to put dixie down, which was where we thought we were finally going to be by tomorrow, but thats not what happened, as you can tell)

as to be expected, bean sometimes found his way inside, mostly by applying his american bulldog traits to memorizing when unfamiliar guests would come over and bolt in the house. he did this enough times and very recently we were letting him stay inside instead of taking him back out, and all of these experiences combined, we noticed something: bean was housebroken. he was out of practice with it, and did not know very well how to communicate that he needed to go outside to use the bathroom, but he did know what to do. he would run to the door if he had to go, not always making it, but still, he was housebroken. he only marked furniture once while inside, in his entire lifespan thus far. that was a red flag to us, but especially my mother, who realized this skill of beans directly contradicted the statement that he was probably kept outside, chained up, starved, and beaten by the trailer park guy. not to mention, bean came to us in nearly perfect condition to begin with, just skinny. no patches of fur gone, he was the opposite of skittish and aggressive, no bruises, nothing. just a loving, bouncy, stupid bulldog mix

this, im not sure if im correct about this, but it stands out enough to me that i feel its worth mentioning: bean is not a mutt of any kind, and his breed contradicts those types of breeds most people who abuse animals come to own; usually large breeds, breeds inaccurately known for aggression, and breeds used by abusers to make aggressive bc they know the fighting power of these dogs (pitbulls, american bulldogs, etc). bean is an engam bulldog (english/american mix), which is a very obscure mixed breed dog to begin with and especially obscure where i live, and as we all know english bulldogs are short, stout, fat little things that can basically do no harm whatsoever. they also have a history of inbreeding to look how they do. i know this man may have just seen ‘bulldog’ and snagged him thinking he’d be aggressive, but that does not sit right with me for two other reasons: bean’s conformation (body structure) and coloration. there is nothing about bean that suggests he was bred to be used for fighting, or that he’s a true mutt, or anything of the sort. his body type literally resembles that of show dogs, and his fur coloration is highly unusual because he’s blue. obviously not literally blue but the type of blue-grey you can find in animals, typically seen in cats. bean’s coloration is almost NEVER found in ANY breed of bulldog, it is INCREDIBLY rare that he looks like this. his condition in which we found him, his housebrokenness, his color and his body formation lead, in me and my family’s opinion, to an alternative opinion: he belonged to someone that got him because they wanted a dog as a pet, not to beat, and they either bred him themselves or bought him (probably from a pet store or breeder) for his color and conformation.

but why would they dump a dog this valuable? my mom said this to me earlier, sobbing after she returned from the vet today, and this is my whole reason for writing this insane fucking novel of a post: whoever dumped bean threw out a sick puppy, and on purpose.

bean hasnt been injured or contracted an unvaccinated illness or anything like that. he had been experiencing extreme stomach distension for the past month, whereas he was losing weight everywhere else on his body. he had also been vomiting. but he wasnt depressed, or lethargic. maybe his personality was a little off but not so much it was horribly noticeable, and at that, he was still eating regularly everyday. we came to the conclusion he had parasites, though ive always been terrified something more serious was going on (i dont get listened to though).

as it turns out, i was right. mom took him in today, the day before dixie was set to be put down, for his deworming pills. what she got instead was a diagnosis of possible lung cancer. his blood work was normal, which is unusual in animals with cancer, but he still had nodules on his lungs that highly resembled cancer. his heart was also severely enlarged due to heartworms, and his stomach was so distended because it was full of fluid and blood. they did send his blood off for labs, but even if his lungs were fine, he was going to die anyway (they got a second opinion from another practice and they also agree it was probably cancerous). he has a 15% survival rate for only the very first heartworm treatment, which will cost $500. nothing lives very long with an enlarged heart to begin with. we don’t have that money, and for a treatment that will definitely kill him? i dont even know why he has so much blood and fluid in his digestive tract. bean, a dog who is only 3 or 4 years old, has an enlarged heart, lung tumors and fluid/blood all in his abdomen. the vet was apparently stunned that a dog this young could have this many potentially (and one definitely) fatal health problem(s).

i now fully believe that whoever owned him before knew he had all these issues, or that he was going to develop them. i think it makes sense. i also think they’re cheap, cruel fucks who didnt want to shell out that much money to take care of him, or pay to take him to a shelter/sanctuary, and so what did they do? they did what many people these days very regularly do when their new pet has become undesirable: they fucking dumped him on the side of the road and booked it. took his nametag off and everything, to make him look like a stray. they left him for some well meaning, animal loving family like mine to find him, not know anything about these preexisting health issues, and assume he’s healthy enough; maybe just needs a few more vaccinations and a worm and flea treatment. he showed no signs of lung cancer or heart problems in all his life up until this past month, and he’s still so young. i will even go as far as to say that he himself may be severely inbred, which could be the cause of these health issues. given his specific posture and color, and that he’s a bulldog, it’d make sense. it seems like he came from some kind of breeder to begin with anyway.

so now that ive said that and got it all out of the way, i want to leave an open letter to the hypothetical cunt that did this to us and bean:

i hope god fucking strikes you down where you stand. i hope every single day of your miserable fucking life, you think about where he ended up, if he’s still alive, if anyone found him, if he ever got hit by a car or died alone of cancer and heart failure in a field somewhere. i hope you feel guilt for leaving him knowing he’d develop cancer and that he had heart worms, and knowing you did it BECAUSE of that. i hope you never fucking forget about the fact that you threw an INNOCENT LITTLE PUPPY out on the highway because you just didnt want to have anything to do with his illnesses, and i hope one day you find out what you did to us and this innocent little boy. he’s such a good fucking dog, he is so patient, kind, loving and gentle, and when he has bursts of energy to play he fucking goes, and now he has to die barely halfway through his lifespan because of your fucking negligence. he is laying outside on the porch right now, uncomfortable with fluids and blood backing up his intestines, coughing and huffing just to try and breathe. at the very least, if he were taken to the right shelter, he couldve been fucking cared for and given treatments to extend his life as much as possible, or at least given hospice care for however long he could live, which has now been shortened to 3 or 4 years. if you yourself knew this dog was inbred or you inbred him yourself, fuck you. i hope you get run over by a fucking truck. this breed can live from 12-16 years, that’s a LONG time for a dog like him, and you had to fucking ruin it all because of your own fucking preferences; you wanted the perfect dog. and you could’ve had him if you’d grown a fucking heart and actually gave a shit about animals beyond how they look aesthetically; as well, if you fucking actually gave a shit about your animals HEALTH and wanted to maintain it instead of apparently assuming he’d just be fine and healthy with all his vaccinations and that’d be the end of it. you do not deserve to own an animal if you dont even want to acknowledge it will sometimes need medical care, how fucking heartless are you? we never had enough money to take care of dixie’s failing health, and we always knew it’d be better to put her down, but my stepdad kept refusing. you had enough money to fucking breed or buy a blue show-quality engam bulldog and you still wouldnt fucking care for him after you found out what problems he had. fuck you. eat shit and die. i hope you never find peace from the guilt of knowing you fucking killed what became our dog because you’re selfish. my mother is physically sick with grief. i am physically sick with grief. i feel so bad that it’s as if i have the fucking flu. i was trying to talk with my mother about this situation earlier and i had to rush to leave because i felt like i was about to throw up if i didnt. everyone in this house has cried so much today it’s disgusting.

the only thing good about this is that bean came along for dixie when she needed him most, and became her helper and provider, giving her company and being a literal post to lean on for when she couldnt see where she was going. they’re going over the rainbow bridge tomorrow morning together, and in a way, this is probably the best outcome. at least bean wont have to grieve. dixie can see her old companion again (who died from a ruptured tumor in 2014) and bean can meet him, and they can all play and be together in that field in the sky.

my family will never have another dog again because of this pain this has caused us.

#personal #probably dont delete this #dont open this if youre sensitive to animal cruelty and death please #and vulgar descriptions of internal illness in dogs #and emetophobia #dont rb

3 notes · View notes