#i’ve hated myself and my body for genuinely as long as i can remember

[shoveitevil]

this night has been the best and the worst night of my year

[enivez]

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (written .9k)

SYNOPSIS…. Gaming is a common hobby for college students nowadays, with Overwatch being the game of choice for both Lee Heeseung and his favorite streamer loved.venus. The boy shows his love for his favorite streamer behind the screen name lee.bambi, though he doesn’t realize it was the campus fashionista that he hated ever so much behind the screen.

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DING! DING! DING!

You were awoken by the sound of your phone continuously going off, at first you ignored it - letting your fatigue carry you back to sleep. Though after feeling Jake shove you and Sunghoon burying his head further into your pillows to escape the noise, you finally decided to search for your phone. Reaching around the space around your pillows, you finally find the device that had disturbed your well needed beauty rest.

Oh how you wish you would’ve just stayed asleep, now finding yourself sat up straight running your hands through your hair as you read all the notifications. The two others in your bed now stirring as you begin to panic, unable to believe you had missed the stream you had promised to do. Sunghoon sat up first, rubbing your back as your breath began to become sporadic and tears welled up.

When did streaming begin to become the stress that you had first tried to escape through streaming?

“Hey what are you thinking right now,” Jake says as he hands you the bottle of water that was sitting on your bedside table. When you’re reluctant to drink, the boy opens it for you, ushering you to take at least a sip.

You didn’t have the courage to take a sip, nor to answer Jake’s question. Feelings of guilt, fear, and frustration racing through your mind. You felt silly for feeling all this over a single missed stream, it wasn’t even the first time you had missed a stream. Though suddenly you felt like everyone was watching for the downfall of Venus, the downfall of you.

You suddenly felt a small presence lick your hand, Artemis saying ‘take your time’ in his own way. Holding the small kitten up to your chest, feeling it purr against your skin. You take a deep breath, closing your eyes before you speak.

“I don’t think I can be Venus anymore.”

It was like a weight was lifted off your chest, the stress of managing these two sides of you being dispersed.

“You never were Venus, Venus is you,” the voice of none other than Park Jongseong rang out.

Looking up you’re met with the new guests in your apartment. Jay and Tsuki climb into your bed, whilst Ningning sets down a tub of ice cream on your bedside table. Tsuki rests her head on your shoulder, wrapping her arm around you.

“I remember when you first started streaming, you were so happy. I was so happy that more people got to see you be you. You’ve been running from yourself for so long.”

You can feel Tsuki’s voice vibrating through your body as she says the words you didn’t want to hear but needed to. Looking down at your lap in embarrassment, a sudden face was in front of you.

“When was the last time you genuinely enjoyed streaming or fashion,” Ningning questions as her head rests in your lap, her gaze piercing into you.

Truth is, you can’t remember. You hadn’t enjoyed anything since the start of this semester. You have felt the weight of your future crushing you, desperate to prove to the world you’re more than the name you were born with. Venus was the way you escaped that name, and now that so many are trying to take it away from you...

Jay was right, Venus is you, that’s why she exists. She wouldn’t exist without you, but as of recently she’s become more and more of what you believe you should be.

“I wanna keep streaming, it makes me happy, or at least it did. I just want to be myself, I just feel like everyone has the predetermined idea of me and I don’t want that to be Venus’ fate as well. Ever since the gossip page started harassing me, as Venus, about my identity I’ve had so many more eyes on me. I can deal with the eyes when I have my guard up, when I’m acting as [Name], but that’s not me. I wanna be silly, I wanna go on tangents about games fashion, and I want to be able to make connections without there being an agenda.”

“Then keep streaming, it's the minority of people trying to unmask you. Majority of your viewers are there because they genuinely love you. They won’t care when and if they find out that you are Venus,” Jay says as he pulls the comforter over his body, ready to go to sleep.

Despite the tears still staining your cheeks, you find yourself rolling your eyes at the eldest member of your group. You know what he says is true, though it's hard to believe when you’re so stuck in your own head. You let out a sigh, looking up at your friends that are now squishing you into your bed. A lopsided smile escapes your lips, you felt loved.

Jake and Sunghoon were devouring the ice cream that Ningning had bought, earning an earful from the girl as she braids Tsuki’s hair. Jay was already well on his way into dreamland, truly amazed by how the boy could sleep despite the chaos around him.

These were your people, you were so happy that at the end of the day it is them that you can rely on.

Ding! Ding!

A/N: angst? comfort? idk drama

TAGLIST⊹₊⋆

@cholexc @woninluv @myjaeyuns @eleanorheartschishiya @dimplewonie @heelovesmeknot @lprww @haechansbbg @xuimhao @defnotfertilizedtoesw @kgneptun @jwnghyuns @mypapergirls @bomi-ja @woozixo @icepshrince @allisonleannn @infpistj @mwahvvis @vantaetastic

[industrations]

Hi, may I ask you a question? I know this is probably kind of an unusual ask so feel free to ignore this! But you seem so nice and kind so I thought I might ask you about this...

So lately I keep thinking a lot about gender things. Oh and I am a girl (maybe (as in afab)) and until recently I was convinced that I am very comfortable in my gender. And the thing is, I did think about it. I knew about my sexuality since I was a teenager and I remember thinking about my gender on many occasions and always feeling so sure about it and so comfortable in my body. But also... I've always been kinda scrawny (my friends keep joking that oversized clothes make me look like a 14 year old boy) and then someone told me people go through second puberty and I might get bigger hips in the next years and I would hate that. And then I wondered why, is it just the change or would I genuinely be uncomfortable in a more feminine body?

And now I'm wondering, because why would that come up now?? I mean I am in my early twenties now and I've known about my sexuality for years. But I've also kind of ignored that after realizing it for a while whoops. So it might be happening again. Or maybe it's really just a bit of gender envy and not all that serious?

I think I'm just trying to ask you if you think it's possible that I realize some things late? I'm just so unsure lately and I feel like I can't really ask anyone about this...

So yeah, apologies for sending you that paragraph and I hope you have a nice day!!

Alright so first of I want to say that I am in no means an expert at this. I’m not a therapist and I can’t tell you what you are or what you aren’t feeling. But I can speak from my own experience that things like this are by no means tied to a specific period of time in your life. There’s people that are well into their adult years (and i’m talking 60-70) that are still discovering things about themselves

I’ve spend a long time around people who were telling me what I can and cannot be or what i should be. I was "comfortable" in my gender because I was thought that I should be. And until I actually started talking to people who were going through similar things, I didn’t quite understand that it was not the norm feeling this way about yourself.

Again speaking from my own experience because never let anyone tell you what’s right or wrong for you. There is certain things about being afab i embrace and appreciate even. Things i would miss was i born differently. I love having a softer voice, and more feminine features because those are things that make me me.

But then I have cis girl friends who tell me "oh I wish I had your chest" or "you should be grateful you don’t have as little as me" and I just rather die that having this part of my body be perceived at all. I have my top surgery very soon which i’m extremely excited for but why do I have to defend myself for wanting something that’ll make me happier just because people don’t understand the feeling.

Sorry this has become quite personal and rambly somehow but apparently i have many feelings about this and if they can help anyone in any way then that would he the best outcome. I guess what i’m trying to say is try to let go of whatever you think other people want you to be and be kind and gentle with yourself. You don’t HAVE to be anything the only thing you should be is comfortable in your own skin

[illandtired]

about me<3 (tw)

Hello, I’m 17 and I’m gonna try to take my life again on my 18th birthday.

(Sorry, this jumps around a lot.)

(And it’s long….)

Also heavy topics, literally almost every trigger warning in the book.

This blog is gonna literally be my diary. I’ve attempted to make me life multiple times in the past for multiple different reasons.

I’m seventeen and I currently live alone in my mother’s house, she lives with her boyfriend. I had my biological dad who left before I was born and two step fathers. The only one I “care” about is my most recent. He entered my life when I was 6 and since then I tried telling my mother about him but for some reason it took until I was 16 for her to divorce him. He abused me severely. When I told him I was suicidal the first time he said he was gonna go get his gun then proceeded to make me beg for my life. I was I believe 12 or 13, a lot of it’s a blur like most of my life.

I don’t want to go too much into my past and make this too long, I started smoking weed in 8th grade. By 9th I was doing lines of random shit I got from kids at school off the bathroom toilets. I have touched most stuff besides heroin. The one drug I promised my mother I would stay away from. Currently I am still hooked on opioids, SSRIs, and I smoke weed/thc carts every day.

I was 6 when I was diagnosed with adhd, severe anxiety and depression. I haven’t seen a doctor since. My mother swears she’s trying to get me in but she always complains about how much my meds cost. She knows my worries about my mental state and I swear it’s impossible to get the help I need.

I’ve always been a paranoid person but it’s getting worse by the day. I’m genuinely too scared to take the trash out because I feel 800 eyes on me. I feel like there’s invisible people constantly around me judging my every move. I don’t feel real some times, and not that life is a simulation shit, I genuinely don’t feel like I’m in my body.

I started self harming in 3rd grade. It started as me being a wrist and head banger but by 5th grade I had started using thumb tacks and scratching myself. I went to my step father and he told me they weren’t Deep enough and I was just looking for attention. By 6th grade I was actually cutting, but only to where I barely saw the blood. By 8th it got to the point where I needed to see the blood run. But I’ve managed to get back to only getting it to bead up, occasionally running. I was clean for quite a few months but the smallest, SMALEST thing can set me back so much.

I’ve struggled my entire life with starving myself, binge eating, then starving myself. I’ve been an unhealthy weight a lot of my life. I’m around 240lbs now, my eating disorder is mainly starving now. My “Binges” are now small.

I have never been able to make a phone call to someone besides friends. Even family calls are hard a lot. I can barely order food at a restaurant, fancy or McDonald’s.

I’ve made money in my life from stealing, I’ve been a kleptomaniac for as long as I can remember. But I also made money doing bakery stuff for my mother, doing mechanical stuff, and babysitting. My only “legal�� job was working at McDonald’s. I got fired a year after starting because we had a new manager who fired me over homophobic reasons. I hated going to work. I loved the work itself, but I hated having to be around anyone.

I’ve always been called lazy. And I feel like it’s true, I can barely find the motivation to get up to take a piss most days. I had such a hard time with organization and cleanliness as a kid so I always had a messy room, unless it was right after one of the days I got my stuff thrown away.

I never payed attention in school yet I somehow got straight As until i genuinely didn’t care anymore. I dropped out 10th grade on my 16th birthday. School was so much worse for my mental health. I was self harming almost every day, lying to myself about who I am to fit in.

I actually love learning, I wanted to get into nursing school but I know I’ll never get clean enough. I even study biology, trig, physics, crime scene investigation, all sorts of stuff. I have notebooks and notebooks that I’ve filled with information I’ll never use.

I was 10 when I got my first boyfriend. He was 18, a relationship on discord. It lasted a couple years at least. I was sexually assaulted multiple times growing up and I don’t wanna go into more detail in this post. But due to my sexual trauma i became very hyper sexual very young. I still am to this day, I sell pictures to creepy men online because I know I won’t be able to get any other job. But at the same time it’s basically been implemented in my brain I’m good for sex and nothing more. I feel so utterly disgusted with myself after every sexual experience in my life from sex to just sending nudes.

I grew up a chubby girl with big tits. It was 6th grade i started having boys desperate to touch them. I had Ds by then. I’m a F-G now (depends on the bra). My own step father and his sons who were much older than me started sexualizing me when I was about 13. One of my step brother was creepy since he entered my life.

I’ve had so many important parts of my life taken from me. My Virginity with a man was raped away when I was 14 on Christmas. My self worth was barely existent but it was gone completely by 9th grade. My first “good boyfriend” was when I was 15, he was 18. He filmed us one night after I asked him not to multiple times, but the next day a video of me having my brains fucked out was all over my school. It was a smaller school, but even some of the female teachers sided with him because he was the “king” of the school. I missed my middle school graduation which doesn’t seem like much to most people, but I knew I was going to drop out and never have a high school graduation. I was even selected to write a speech and go up and speak at the podium but due to anxiety from both situations I missed the whole thing entirely because I tried to kill myself that night.

Most of my attempts have been overdose attempts, and that’s for a reason. I couldn’t imagine my mother finding me and my brains splattered on the wall. But out of everything, no it’s not my mother that’s kept me alive. It’s been my best friend. I live in the states and he lives in Scotland. We’ve been friends for years, we met through my ex and were completely like the opposite of each other but we care about each other. And unfortunately I don’t think I’ll be able to meet him. We were going to meet when I turn eighteen because he’ll be turning 21 and can legally drink here, I can legally drink there.

I care about nothing more than him and it pains me that I know he will be disappointed when he realizes I gave up. I don’t plan on telling him anything.. we have a thing where if he’s gone for a month he’s on a mental health break, but two months he’s dead and I have his permission to kill myself. I’m going to tell him he has to wait a year for me because I might be in the mental hospital.

Back to simple things I can’t do, I would rather claw my own eyes out than be alone with a man in a room. But my best friend is the one exception. I haven’t gone on a date since new years. As soon as we got to his house, it wasn’t even 5 minutes before he had a gun pressed in my side.

Yet at the same time I feel like my only purpose is to make men happy in any way I can. Even if it makes me uncomfortable and I don’t want to do it. Because that’s all I’ve ever been good at and praised for.

There was about a week in my life and it was somewhat recent. I told myself I wasn’t going to attempt again because no matter what life won’t suck that bad. Being homeless was the happiest time of my life, sure I can be on the street and cold, no money, but I no longer have responsibilities and I get to walk which I love doing. I used to sneak out at night and go on long ass walks normally from 10pm to 3-5am.

More things about substances, once again I’m sorry for jumping around. I started smoking cigarettes in 6th grade, provided by my step father and girlfriend. I started drinking in 8th grade but now it takes half a bottle of tequila for me to be at a happy level of drunk. Or 4 bottles of cheap wine, or an entire bottle of rum. Anyways I feel like I’m rambling on and on so I’m gonna try to wrap this up.

What’s the main reason I want to kill myself? Because I know I will never be able to live a normal life. But my one goal as a kid was to make it to 18.

[mygloviesme]

cool about it, eleven years later. || myg

no. 2 of 3: she called me a fucking liar

predebut/debut!yoongi x female idol

summary: eleven years later, kanako lives in nyc with her childhood best friend keiko. bts have become a household name that floods her every day life, and she's learned to ignore it. after years of moving on from those months she spent with the seven boys, she finds herself in a good place. what happens after one fateful night she finally runs into faces she's tried so hard to run away from?

(definitely inspired by boygenius)

word count: 4.6k

genre: ANGST, fluff, melodrama

chapter warnings: mentions of mental health, drinking, smoking

inspo song: worldstar money by joji

JULY 9TH, 2023, 10:48PM

The woman next to Yoongi loops her arm around his, holding him close. A knife puncturing my stomach only twists further. Further and further. 

“Who’s this?” She asks genuinely, kindly. Oh, I loathe her. I hate myself for it but I hate her more. The feelings I’m having are childish and jealous, completely unreasonable. But she’s so perfect. Her body fits into his like they were made for each other. I don’t recognize myself right now. It feels like high school with the way I’m obsessing over her every move. 

All I want to do right now is run into the club and down more drinks than I can fathom. Self destructive is the right word. I was never one for spite, but right now I wish I had a man on my own arm. 

“This is…Kanako.” He speaks, gulping. 

Her eyes widen and she breaks apart from him, taking my hands. “Oh my goodness! I didn’t even recognize you! I’m Aimee, remember? I was a trainee at Bighit for a little while.” 

The memories flood my brain as I recount who exactly she was. I do remember her. After the news broke out, she was the one who told me I could still take back what I said about Haneul. She was on his side. 

This is who he’s with? I feel a burning in my stomach, a validating one. I have a reason to dislike her. It gives me reason to hate her. And God, do I hate her right now. 

I look at Yoongi as Aimee holds my hands in hers, utter incredulity painting my face like a mural. I’m not sure if he remembers, but I do. Those words all those years ago were repeated over and over again so I could hate myself even more. She was amongst the people that made me afraid to go outside ever again. 

Haneul doesn’t have that power over me anymore, and neither does she. At least for being on his side. But I’m definitely giving her power by wanting to rip her away from Yoongi. This is getting embarrassing. 

“Yes. I do. You were friends with Haneul, weren’t you?” I smile with bitterness. I’m old enough to make statements now. I’m old enough to create boundaries. I don’t have to lie about liking someone. Fuck being the bigger person. I’ve been big, I’ve been small. I’ve done it all. 

Her beaming smile fades and she lets go of me, “N-No. Well, yes. But I know better now, I’m so sorry for what I said. I haven’t spoken to him in over a decade.” She says. Yeah, right.

Yoongi only stands with his hands in his pockets, not saying a word. I don’t want to be talking to Aimee, but I’m not entirely sure I want to be talking to him either. I don’t know if I have the strength to, considering how it went with Jungkook. There’s too many thoughts circling my mind at this very moment, all of them being about Yoongi. I don’t even know if I would consider him an ex, someone I knew, the one that got away. Because that would be me, I got away. 

I know I should’ve moved on long ago. I know I did in certain ways. But still after all these years I never understood why I could never give myself to someone else.The feelings for Yoongi had never dissipated, I just forgot what it’s like for him to be standing in front of me. Looking like that. 

This hurts so fucking bad. 

“Hey, Koko.” I hear Keiko say from behind Yoongi. She holds her bag as well as mine. Her body is asking if I’m ready to go. She knows. “It’s alright Aimee. Have a good night.” I say and nod to Yoongi who makes strong eye-contact with me. 

I turn to Namjoon, “How long are you going to be in New York for?” 

“Just two more days.” He says, “We can meet up again if you’d like.”

I walk to Keiko, grabbing my bag. “I’ll call you.” I tell him. He nods slowly and I wave a quick good-bye before me and Keiko head off into the Uber she called over. 

As I walk away I’m fighting the urge to look back. I didn’t then, but I want to now. A part of me wants to tell Yoongi that I want to see him again. But the other part wants me to ignore all those precious memories we have together and lock them in a box, throwing away the key. Don’t look back. Don’t look back. I grip my purse tighter, biting my lip. 

Before we get into the Uber, I reluctantly choose to look back. I hold the car door with one hand, turning to Yoongi. He was already looking at me. Those almond eyes. I keep that short moment in my back-pocket, saving it for tonight. 

He looked back, and so did I. 

JULY 9TH, 2023, 12:34AM

Me and Keiko sit on my bed, face masks on and a tub of ice cream between us with one spoon staked in the frozen dessert. It’s rocky-road, my favorite but her least favorite. She knew how much I needed it though, so she succumbed to the chunky-goodness. 

“So how was it?”

“What?”

She rolls her eyes, “You know what I’m talking about.”

I take a deep breath, exhaling for a moment. “Awful. Jungkook was so upset, and I mean for the right reasons. But it just took me by surprise. He was so…sure with himself. Namjoon is sort of the same. Level-headed. But Yoongi…”

“He has long hair now.”

I shove her playfully, “Shut up!”

She takes the spoon, dipping it into ice cream before pulling it to her mouth. “Sorry. You were saying?”

I lean my hands back, “I felt like it was the first time all over again.”

“Like no time had passed?”

I pull a face, “It’s so stupid.” 

She raises her eyebrows, giving her head a small tilt. “Just a little.” 

I scoff, “Kay, sorry if I thought this was a safe space.” 

“It is! It is. It's just funny to hear that is all. But I get it, trust me. Although it’s been eleven years.”

“Don’t rub it in! I know. But besides that, seeing him was so unreal. Unlike the others, he just seemed…the same. I don’t know. Should I see Namjoon tomorrow?” I ask, grabbing the spoon from her hand to have a bite. 

“Well, what I’m hearing is you asking if you should see Yoongi tomorrow.” She purses her lips. 

I nod sheepishly. “Maybe I am.”

“Kanako, can I be serious with you? For just a moment.” She stops and places her hands on my shoulders. I hold the spoon in my hand nervously, looking at her serious expression. “Sure.” I’m not. Keiko’s brutal honesty is never something to be ignored. 

“As much as I love to encourage your bad decisions, I have to draw a line. Because I love you, and because I think you know this too…don’t try to stir things back up with him.”

I pout, “That wasn’t exactly my intention-”

“I know. But at your core, you’re a romantic. A lifelong monogamist, as much as you don’t like to admit it. You haven’t been in a real relationship in eleven years, and that makes me worry for you. And your vagina.” 

“You know I’ve been trying to open up more!”

“Yes babe, but after eleven years? You couldn’t have been waiting for him, were you?”

She keeps emphasizing eleven years which doesn’t make me feel good. I know it’s sort of something that’s been left unsaid, my lack of relationships. But I’ve played it off as not needing a man, being too focused on my work. I’m just a workaholic, it’s fine. Even though that isn’t necessarily true. I love my free time. I love having free time. I knew one day I’d gain the strength to start something up with someone else, I was just waiting. Yeah, waiting. 

“No! I mean not really. I just haven’t…felt that spark with anyone else.”

“Spark. Right.” She squints suspiciously. 

“It’s true!” I gasp. It isn’t. 

I settle down and play with the hem of my sweater, “Don’t act like I haven’t moved on.”

She cooes, “Oh, Koko. I know you have. I just think seeing him was hard for you. It brought up stuff, didn’t it?”

That’s definitely a word for it. Stuff. If stuff means feelings, yes. Feelings I can’t quite figure out. It’s not like I want to seduce him out of his relationship, but a part of me is so hungry to know him again. To know what he’s been up to, if he still likes his coffee the same, if his love for me hasn’t faltered. It hurts me so much to think that mine hasn’t. Haneul was never my first love, Yoongi was. What I felt for Yoongi was deeper, something I didn’t and couldn’t understand at eighteen.

What I had with Hanuel was a need to be seen, validated. There wasn’t any depth besides the trauma I got out of it. That’s a black hole I’ve gotten out of. With stories to tell and scars to hide, but It’s gone. Thank God. 

“Yeah…it did.”

She pulls me in for an embrace, kissing my forehead. “Do what you want, I love you. He’s just…obviously with someone new. I don’t want you to get hurt. But you should see Namjoon. And maybe try to fix things with Jungkook. That’ll make you feel better.”

I nod into her shirt, “Yeah, it will.”

She pulls herself back from the embrace, seemingly confused. “It kind of surprises me that your feelings are so strong for him…and yet you guys never had sex.”

“Trust me, that took me months to get over.”

JULY 10TH, 2023, 6:00PM

I move the hair in front of my face and adjust my soft pink top before I enter the rather expensive restaurant Namjoon had invited me to. This is definitely not a place we would’ve come to back then. Even I have never been here before. 

There’s a few moments before I’m met with a hostess, “Kanako?” She asks and I nod, gripping the handle of my purse tighter. My hands are growing clammier, embarrassingly enough. Namjoon asked if he could invite some of the other members that were here as well, and I accepted warily. I knew I’d easily get overwhelmed by seeing most of them again, but I didn’t know when I’d have another chance to. Seeing as they’re all busy and for the first time in eleven years I’m taking a leap of faith. 

I don’t know when I’d have this courage again. Especially if it means Yoongi might be there. 

She leads me to a seated area covered by a black curtain. Her hand delicately brushes it open for me, revealing the four familiar men. For some reason I expected something more dramatic, more tragic. I have pessimism on the brain, but can you blame me? It’s my easiest coping mechanism. My most self-destructive one. A common theme lately. 

She gives me leeway to enter and I respond to her with a quick thanks before entering the small room. The men all stand quickly but seem to be caught, saying nothing. Their eyes dart to each other for a quick minute before Jimin smiles, “You look great.” Unexpected, but I’ll take it.

They all look great too, all so mature and aged. I could take notes. But I think they’d be pricey notes.

It feels like I’m standing in front of strangers in a sense, eleven years taking off memories from me little by little. But I still remember a lot. Even with Jimin’s cadence in his voice, it’s so different. It’s softer. More gentle, like I’m a new friend. New friend. 

“Please, sit.” Namjoon insists and I do so, sitting next to him which seems like the safest bet. I place my purse down beside me and shuffle in my seat, “Thanks for…inviting me. It’s great seeing you all again.” I say, trying so hard not to cringe with my words. Just like last night, it feels like anything I say doesn’t amount to how big this situation is. 

We used to be all so close. I knew them. They called me their sister at some point. 

“You too. Sorry Taehyung couldn’t make it. He’s busy and all that.” Namjoon chuckles, planting his elbows on the table. Jungkook sits right in front of me, not speaking a word. His eyes stay looking down at the table, sometimes to Jimin. 

I don’t know whether to look at them or not, it all feels like the wrong move. What if they don’t like who I am now? The way I dress, speak, move. I want them to recognize me. I’m almost thirty, why do I care so much about what they think of me?

“We went ahead and ordered meat and other side stuff. You like fish cakes right? And beer? If not, I could get you something else.” Namjoon asks. 

“N-No, that’s all fine. Thank you…”

More silence. 

“I got spicy cucumber salad for you. I know how much you liked it then.” Jungkook says between the echoing quiet. Then. 

“Oh yeah, I still do. And I still like-”

“Pickled radish.” Yoongi whispers, fiddling with his hands. They remember. He remembers. 

I respond with a soft laugh, “Right.” 

He smiles too, looking up at me. One day I’ll stop feeling whatever this is I feel for Min Yoongi, but as long as he stays just like this, I don’t think that will happen any time soon. There’s a delicate fluttering in my stomach as we keep eye contact with each other, like it’s all that time ago. I would call myself delusional, crazy, everything that means that I’m looking too much into it. But if I could print this moment on paper, you’d believe me.

“So you guys are on a hiatus? How has that been?” I question genuinely. Jimin totters in his seat, making a ‘tsk’ sound with his mouth. It reminds me of Hoseok. I wish they were all here, but I’m glad I at least have this. 

“Taking a break has been great for most of us, but I’m still working on music and whatnot. So is Jungkook, but we definitely have more free time than we did a year ago. We wouldn’t have been able to go on a dinner like this if it were, say, 2021.” He says honestly. The boys nod in agreement. 

“Really?” I raise my brows in shock.

“Yeah, we were robots for like, six years straight. Non-stop working. What about you?” Jimin tilts his head.

“Yeah, Kanako. We’re- I am- very curious about what you’ve been doing. You went to college when you left, didn’t you?” Namjoon says it as if it isn’t a sore topic. It is for me, and with the way Yoongi shut down privately it seems like it was the same for them too. 

I play with the glass of water in front of me, “Yeah I did. I graduated with a degree in communications, so I work with my friend Keiko at the New York Times as an editor. She was doing an internship there and…managed to get us both in, I guess. I’m pretty lucky.” I admit.

Jimin’s mouth is agape, “Kanako, that's seriously impressive.”

I scoff, “Oh shush, nothing like being a global star. Mr. Nominated For A Grammy.” 

Namjoon shakes his head playfully, “There’s the Kanako I remember.” 

I smile to myself as I hear Namjoon’s comment, “But thanks Jimin.” I say.

Before he can reply a waiter comes in with multiple servings of all kinds of food. He places the raw meat besides the grill, following with the various side dishes all neatly surrounding the table. It’s so much food, something we definitely never did back then. 

Once everything is settled, Yoongi grabs the tongs, pointing them at me. 

“Make sure to eat a lot. It’s on us.”

JULY 10TH, 2023, 7:47PM

We’ve grown into a more comfortable banter as we all eat. Talking about celebrities they’ve met, encounters with fans in bathrooms, and something Namjoon wants to say to me. 

He chews on the kimchi that sits in his mouth, covering it with his hand. “I mean it’s not that big of a deal, but now that you’re here I just wanted to tell you because it sort of is a big thing.”

“Go ahead Joon.” I assure him. 

He swallows, “Well- uh. I’m bisexual. And I’m dating a guy. He’s cool.”

I widen my eyes. Definitely didn’t see that coming. I mean, kind of. He’s always been a very open-minded person, but I never heard him talk about any sort of crush. Besides that one time in a club, but I never assumed he was straight. Or anyone else, for that matter. I’m happy for him though. I know it must be hard for them to maintain relationships during all this chaos, but the dust has settled. And he seems happy, which is most important. 

“Oh sweet.” I reply nonchalantly, hoping to not scare him away. 

“That’s it? Sweet?” He chuckles, turning over the cooking bulgogi. 

“Scratch that, I’m glad you found someone. That makes me happy you could do that in the midst of, you know everything that’s been going on for you. Where’d you meet?” I reply. 

He sighs, “Mutual friends. It was hard to connect with other guys during the, you know, spotlight. I’m still not out obviously, but he’s really okay with it. We go to art galleries and dinners and such. It’s pretty serious.”

I grin as I sip my beer, “Is he as smart as you?”

“He tries to keep up.” Namjoon replies with a smirk. 

Jimin perks his head up, “What about you Kanako? Anyone in your life?”

I gulp. It takes everything in me to not look at Yoongi. I hope the small beat after he asked the question isn’t obvious. I look down to my fish cake, “Not really.”

“Has there ever been? It’s been eleven years, you know.” He says. Ugh.

“You sound just like Keiko.” I mumble.

Namjoon tilts his head, “Are you and Keiko…”

I shake my head quickly, “No. Nope.” I respond to him, turning to Jimin. “Uh- some guys here and there but nothing ever serious. I’m pretty focused on my work. What about you, Jiminie?” I attempt to curb the conversation from myself. Trying to not make it obvious I’m hiding a deep, dirty secret that’s sitting across from me. 

There’s an abrupt laughter that bounces off the table. I look around, confused. “What am I missing?” I say. 

Jungkook laughs, “Jimin is the opposite of a monogamist.”

Jimin’s face washes over with an obvious scarlet, “I like to have fun, that’s all.”

I giggle and lean back in my seat, “Ahhh, I see.” 

That was an unsurprising answer from him. And I’m sure with the fame there’s even more options for a guy like him. “Is it limited to just women?” I ask. 

Jimin gasps, “Why does everyone ask that!”

Namjoon laughs hard, holding his stomach in the process. “Kanako is asking the real questions.” He chokes out whilst wiping tears from his eyes. 

“But to answer your question, definitely not.” Jimin gives a cheeky look to me as he responds. It’s clear he’s growing more buzzed by the minute. I assume that night at the club sparked something in him. It’s fun, for now. 

This news is all so raw to me but it’s so fluid. The aging only made the conversations better, more comfortable. There’s less hesitation and more openness. There’s still a silence in Yoongi’s corner, reminding me of how he was when I first met him. Shy. But the topic of conversation I know is something he doesn’t want to contribute to. Not after the awkward encounter I had with his supposed beau. His young, annoying beau. 

“And you, Jungkook?” I ask. 

Jimin pats the young boy on the arm, “Still afraid of women. But I think he was just having a hard time moving on from-”

“Shut up.” Jungkook is quick to quiet the tipsy man down. There is an obvious glow to Jimin’s cheeks as time passes, and I don’t remember how many glasses of beer he’s had if that tells you anything. His mouth is like a loose cannon. Things don’t feel great. The table turns quiet again. Something else I’m missing. Jimin shrugs. 

“Let’s just say Yoongi isn’t the only one still hung up on you.” He mutters under his breath, taking a big gulp of his beer. What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

“Jimin, really?” Namjoon looks at him in disbelief. Jungkook is also shocked, holding a hand up as if he’s stopped in his tracks. “I can’t believe you said that.” The young boy whispers. 

Jimin tries to reach for Jungkook, slurring a small ‘I’msorry’ before Jungkook slides out of his seat to walk out of the room. Jimin follows the young boy in hopes to apologize. All I feel is second-hand embarrassment, confusion, and heaps of awkwardness. Yoongi sets down his chopsticks in a disappointed manner, exhaling loudly. 

He looks at me for the second time today, “Don’t pay attention to him. He’s grown to be a messy drunk.” He says. 

I nod and hang my head politely, not wanting to add fuel to the fire. But it might be too late for that, because before I can think I’m jolting my head back up in question.

“What did he mean, not the only one?” I ask, looking at the two men. 

Namjoon bites his lip, “Not sure if that’s our place to say.”

But what does it mean? Is Yoongi still hung up on me? Is Jungkook? I didn’t think he ever felt that way towards me, he called me his sister for god's sake. Was it a cover-up? Did feelings develop over time? How did I not know? How did I not expect this? This gives everything a new meaning that I do not want. 

I don’t want any of this. “I’m so sorry.” I whisper as I pick at my rice.

“It’s to be expected.” Yoongi responds, seriously. 

His tone is indistinct which causes me to be a bit bewildered, “What is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs apathetically, “Everything was…never concluded properly. You left things sort of a mess after you left.” 

I scoff and cross my arms, blatantly offended. “A mess?”

Namjoon attempts to break up the rising tension, “Guys let’s not-”

But Yoongi has intentions. Everything is coming to the surface, I know it. I hear the words flow from Yoongi’s mouth like he’s rehearsed them. Like he’s always known what he was going to say, eleven years later.

“We loved you, and you left. You can’t expect us to not have feelings about it.”

We loved you. The same knife digs into me as I hear him. 

“I’m not expecting anything. It’s just been-”

“Eleven years? Yeah, we know.” He laughs sarcastically. He always knows what I’m going to say next. In this moment I wish he knew nothing about me. 

There’s a bubbling frustration within me that grows to its peak, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I loved you all too, okay?” My words begin to adhere to him, unbeknownst to me. It’s coming out. “I spent days and nights thinking about you. I wanted to come back, I wanted to call. But it would make- it would’ve made moving on so much harder.”

“Why did you want to?”

“Want to what?”

Namjoon places a hand on my shoulder to cool me down but I’m an unstoppable forest fire, trees and wildlife burning down in front of their eyes. They’ve watched me crumble so many times it’s almost unbelievable it’s happening all over again. Some things really don’t ever change. 

“Move on, Kanako? Why!” Yoongi shouts. 

I sit up from my seat, planting my hands on the table angrily, “Because I loved you! I had just started to and I knew I had to stop if I was ever going to heal! Don’t you get that? I was in an abusive relationship at eighteen years old, I didn’t even know half of the things that happened to me really did happen! I coped the best way I could, so fuck you for blaming eighteen year old me!” I breathe heavily after I finish. The bowl of rice has toppled over all over my feet but I’m too angry to notice. This is what I needed to say after all these years. This is my honest truth. I’ve freed myself of the guilt I’ve held for all these years. 

Yoongi stays quiet, his gaze on mine as I stay above him. Namjoon looks at me too, aghast. I feel relieved but so big at the same time. Like a monster. 

“Kanako…” Yoongi whispers. “I know, I-I’m sorry. That was…” His voice trails off. 

I feel tears trickling down my face and wipe them quickly, slumping back down on the seat. Instead of running away, I stay. This time I will stay. 

JULY 10TH, 2023, 9:00PM

Yoongi ended up paying for dinner, even with how much of a slight disaster it turned out to be. We ended up continuing talking, rather casually, after our argument. It was the best I could do without leaving again. I wanted to stay there and fix things. But it was better to ignore it. 

Jungkook and Jimin stand outside, clearly done with a deep talk. Jungkook is smoking once again. I feel like I should say something about it, maybe even a joke. But I’m not sure if that’s my place anymore. Was it ever?

“Hey guys. Kanako. Sorry about that.” Jimin apologizes weakly. It’s obvious he’s sobered up a bit from the last time I saw him, but even under the street lights I can see he has a long way to go. 

“Don’t worry about it.” I promise him. Jungkook throws down his cigarette like he’s done it a million times before. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and walks over to me, eyeing the sky. His familiar unwillingness for eye-contact is more obvious than ever. 

“Hi Jungkook.” I say as he approaches me. 

He looks over to the boys behind me, hesitant to speak. “I understand now. I can’t imagine at that age having to go through what you did.” He confesses. He pulls me in for a random but pleasant hug. His body is much more solid than I remember, not as easy to hold, but his scent has stayed the same. How is that even possible? 

I accept the embrace and wrap my arms around him tightly, having to hold back tears. This feels so nice. I missed this. I wasted years longing for it again. There’s still an unanswered question of what exactly Jimin meant, but I let it slide. I let my mind clear completely to enjoy the present. 

“I missed you so much Jungkook.” I muffle into his chest. My eyes water. 

“Stay with me tonight. W-With us. Like old times.” He whispers as his head sits on top of mine. 

My body is lit like a furnace. It’s comforting this time, not intense. They can read my mind so easily. I want to, I have to. For one night before they leave, I will. 

“Okay.” 

click here to read more of this story!

a/n: I know nothing about grown up jobs or how they work!!! keep that in mind dear god!!!

[wewillbeseen-butnotbeheard]

hi!

i'll admit, as i scrolled through ur blog briefly, i was at first appalled and confused by the contradictory posts. but i believe i began to understand where you are coming from (on a surface level. you are probably not sharing every experience). i am adverse to the constraining nature and connotations of labels for multiple facets of my identity. if i have one written or displayed, it feels more like a cosmetic than an identity.

okay ive kind of lost what i was saying. usually i dont talk that fancy but every now and then it comes over me. remember you are not required to put a label on anything. let yourself be, dude.

maybe this is similar to you or maybe im completely off the mark. maybe youll make a rantpost about me or smth. have a good day /gen and byebye

hey

thank you for that. i really do hate to admit it, but it it means a lot to me. i think i want to take another moment to rant /regarding some of this (i have a lot to say on so many things. this being one of them)

for the most part, i dislike labels. i find myself more or less refusing to label my own sexuality (though i don’t consider that possible in itself) and i feel a little adverse to gender labels (not that i don’t use them, but it’s a whole thing that i don’t think is worth unpacking, especially as long as my body is human. it gives me a headache. i would describe myself as ‘MALE’ and specifically just that. if i had the body i wanted, i really think the whole idea of transgenderism would likely end up coming into play. but it’s not something i care about enough to be a facet of my identity and i’m not interested in that.)

for this, though, i feel like it is different. i think it’s the subconscious associations that i’ve built up regarding the word “therian” through this whole year. it feels like a very heavy term, and i know some feel as if it doesn’t capture them but for me, i think that if i could describe myself with it then i would, (WILL) because i know exactly what it means, and in this human body i would want to use any labels that could bring me closer to “animal-ness” in the perceptions of others and/or myself.

i WANT it, moderately at least, and have for a while, yet once i’m here it feels very anticlimactic. it’s just like — nothing changes. it’s just a word to describe myself with.

i “wanted” the concept because of the descriptions i hear of “phantom limbs, shifts,” etc. and even before i knew what an “alterhuman” was i would hear about these experiences and think, fuck, i would kill to feel that. especially as i can’t actually have those features physically. it would make me feel better about myself.

therefore, once all this blows over and hypothetically, i find myself going around calling myself a “therian” i would still be envious of therians, for the parts of it i “want” aren’t just something that can come to you like that.

let’s be genuine. perhaps i am a fox that resides in the effective prison that is my own human body. it’s a nice thing to imagine and i find that i tell those words to myself sometimes. there isn’t exactly much i can do about it. i can’t act as if it’s pretty, or as if it even means all that much. i see no reason why i shouldn’t associate myself with those in these tags, or those who tell me that i’m “one of them”. after all i do like that idea, though i can’t articulate that properly.

it makes me feel like lashing out, and that’s akin to some common act of denial. it isn’t even in me to say “no” sometimes, more “-shut up” (if that makes any sense).

i find it hard to “accept” anything, still, or should i say just “take the plunge” and indulge in this, especially knowing that it’d make me feel better. it’s because there are people that i “look up to” in a sense, or that i consider slightly influential voices (whether it be in “this” community or the furry community, or both) that have straight up told me/implied that i probably am “this”. i feel as if i can’t let them be right about me, as strange as that sounds. yet, i WANT them to be right at the same time. it’s contradictory, but it’s really just me being defensive. i’m trying to move past this and hopefully i can “be myself” without feeling as if it’s the doing of somebody else. i don’t want a “i told you so” moment.

sorry, this was longer than i intended

[inflatingnblue]

worried anon here again, but off anon this time bc fuck it, and also if we can’t be open about shit on our kink blogs, where can we??? 💜

I’ve felt and seen how seductive an ED can be; besides my own history of disordered eating and dysmorphia, the love of my life struggles with pretty serious anorexia, and it kills me to watch her be drawn back in again and again by this terrible thing that our culture only perpetuates, even now that she’s years into recovery. When she was at her worst, when she had almost convinced herself that the ED was “working,” she was so miserable and exhausted and listless and angry all the time, and she still hated her body to the point of suicidality. The weight she lost didn’t fix any of it, but it did make her incredibly hard to be around and made her life feel so small that she didn’t want to live it anymore. It makes me sick that the world we live in would rather we hurt and hate ourselves over and over again, systematically denying ourselves the nutrients we need to live, in order to make us think we’re doing right by our bodies and that people will think we’re beautiful. I’m sure you’ve heard all this kind of thing before, just as my fiancée has, from therapists and partners and friends and family and doctors, but I know from my experience that it’s easier to actually start to hear it when you’re not also exposing yourself to pro-ED voices. When I was in high school and at my most mentally ill, I had a whole secret blog where I posted and reblogged self-harm content, so I genuinely do get how that can make you feel less alone. When you’re at your lowest, the most important thing is to not isolate yourself, even if that means you’re in some darker online spaces. Obviously you can and should like whatever posts you want on here, and me and your other followers can easily protect ourselves by blocking pro-ana tags — I guess I just wanted you to know that someone who doesn’t even know you is genuinely worried about you, and hates to see you unable to see how beautiful and valuable you are.

I get the relapsing stuff too; I hadn’t restricted in almost 10 years, but then last December I went through some major life/career/medication changes and gained like 30 lbs in a couple of months, and all the ED and SH voices came right back. The best things I’ve done for myself since then are the simple ones: 1) remind myself that if it was my fiancée feeling this way I would be endlessly telling her how beautiful she is, 2) try to remember that gaining weight isn’t a moral or health failure and is actually a natural part of getting older, and 3) buy myself some cute new underwear and comfy new pants so I didn’t feel horrible every time I tried to get dressed for the day. It’s taken months, and in the mean time I got a new job, this weird old kink of mine resurfaced (possibly as a coping mechanism? idk man, the human brain is wild), and I yanked myself back into a healthier relationship with food and mirrors, but it was and continues to be fucking HARD.

Long story not-so-short, I am really proud of you for making it this far. I am proud of you for being here, and I am proud of every time you push back against those voices, alluring as they might be. Recovery is the toughest, weirdest thing, but it is so worth it. I hope your husband is loving on you lots, I hope you had a wonderful Halloween looking adorable in your Violet costume, and I hope you’ll reach out if you ever need someone to talk to. I’m leaving this as an ask bc I don’t wanna risk making you feel uncomfortable, but feel free to DM me instead of posting/answering it publicly if you’d rather.

💜💜💜

Hello Not So Anon Anymore,

I appreciate you reaching out again and for sharing some of your and your fiancee's stories. One thing I find helpful is hearing about other people's experiences, even if it's not ED related. Hearing how someone has fought and struggled and conquered is good inspiration that maybe not all is lost.

To be honest, I was taken aback by your first ask. When I started reading I was like this person is leaving a compliment, which took a left turn. Not a bad left turn, just an unexpected one. It made me face what I had been doing and it was a good example of how personal struggles don't only affect you.

Oof, I totally understand that crankiness and feeling irritated. I've snapped at people when not meaning to. When you've got a constant stream of thoughts bombarding you it can be easy to lose it, not that it's okay to do so.

Like you said isolation is no bueno. Thinking about my relapse, I did isolate. I'd think maybe I can reach out to a friend, but then I'd stop myself. They've got a lot going on and it always seems like something is wrong when I connect with them, how annoying of me, what a burden. I noticed that no one reached out to me. Not that I was expecting anyone to reach out, but usually friendships go both ways. Both people contact each other and no one did. My ED was like "see, they don't even like you." And that only made the isolation worse.

I also didn't talk to my husband because he had a lot going on and I didn't want to him to try to impede my "progress." Of course I finally told him after several months. He was upset because I wasn't talking to anyone about it, and I don't blame him for feeling that way. Who wouldn't want their significant other to be healthy?

The interesting thing is I was big and I was experiencing symptoms that someone would assume an underweight person faced. I was lightheaded a lot. There were times I wasn't near anything to hold on to so I would crouch to the floor. (I even had a dream of it happening out in public. Tried to will myself to keep walking, but eventually crouched down because I didn't want to fall.) I've never been that lightheaded ever, but I didn't lose much weight when I was younger which is why I never experienced that before. I was scared that my symptoms were increasing in frequency, but at the same time it was a sign that it was "working." I eventually fainted one night. I've never fainted and it was so scary. I didn't even know I had fainted when I first woke up. I literally thought I had somehow fallen out of bed. My memory came back quickly and I couldn't believe I had fainted. Me, overweight, had fainted? I always associated that with those who were underweight, who were actually sick, who actually looked the part of an anorexic. But something that the general population don't seem understand is that it doesn't matter your weight or size - EDs don't discriminate. Starving is starving, regardless of size the body needs energy and when you deplete it the body will respond like a car without gas. It will breakdown.

Also, I totally agree that paying more attention to the bloating and such is a coping mechanism. In a way I think I'm trying to beat "it" first. Like making fun of myself first before someone else can. Making myself big before recovery or my lipedema can. I wish this wasn't such a mind fuck.

I really appreciate your kind words of encouragement. Being vulnerable is challenging and it's brave you decided to not be Anon this time. And same - reach out to talk, even if you'd like to unpack what's going on with your fiancee. I really hope everything works out for you both. 💙

Thanks again.

[skoulsons]

just a little word vomit because I am in my thoughts

characters getting genuinely taken care of in entertainment (or fics) is so personal to me

I hate, HATE being taken care of because I hate feeling useless. I was just on a trip and we were doing a lot of outside work. One of the days, my foot, from a year old injury, started to flare up a bit one of the days. Last year, I was nearly begged to sit down and rest from the job for a while since my foot was bad. This year when it flared up, I just switched jobs because I hate, even with an injury, sitting on the side and not doing anything. I always feel like I am looked at like I offer nothing and I haven’t been working hard, even though I have. I always feel like people look at me and think “she should be working” or “she doesn’t have a good enough reason to be sitting out” or whatever. It constantly makes me doubt any actual injury and, therefore, push myself way beyond the extent my body should be pushed

But it goes even deeper than that. My idea of my worth is very skewed because of my life and things that I’ve gone through and what I made myself believe mentally since I was about five years old. I’m getting better, but for a long time, I had no worth. I didn’t see myself as worthy of someone’s love or care. If someone took care of me, for whatever reason, I always feel bad. I always see it as them doing it because they think they have to or that they see it as a job; not because they actually care about me

I remember the day I got injured. I was laying on the couch (as I couldn’t walk) and had my leg elevated and I asked my brother “would you mind getting me a bag of ice?” And he said of course and came right back with ice and a towel. But in that moment I felt so bad. Despite being injured and literally unable to walk and being FULLY allowed to ask for something like that, I still felt bad to ask. Even though it was my brother and I know he loves me and I know that what he did took MAYBE 15 seconds, I still felt bad

So to see entertainment or written fics of characters being genuinely taken care of in way, shape, or form just hits me. Almost like it’s something I can learn from?? That it’s okay to let people take care of me and that I do know people who are willing to take care of me if need be because they love me and it is not seen as being a burden to them???

[whentherewerebicycles]

2023 in review

2023 was a challenging year but it also brought a lot of joy and positive change. I spent almost 6 out of 12 months of this year pregnant which is kind of weird to think about. here are 10 things, good and bad, that happened to me in 2023:

I hit rock bottom with my horrible job and realized I had to get the fuck out. I think I was pretty depressed/not myself for most of last winter and it was almost completely because of that job (and the sense of lost identity and purpose that came with changing careers). I learned some important things about myself though! namely that I am miserable in easy meaningless jobs that ask absolutely nothing of me and that it’s not worth it to me to make a lot of $$ if my day-to-day work existence is so empty. also I just really, really love working in an university and I missed that kind of work environment (dysfunctional as it can be!) so intensely when I stepped out of it for a while.

my best friend moved to San Francisco (a very easy, very cheap flight from Seattle) and I got to see her SO much, at least once a month and sometimes twice a month. god what a source of incredible, incredible joy that was, especially during the bleak times of Bad Job Despair. AND THEN SHE MOVED HERE OVER THE SUMMER!!!!!! I know our time of living in the same place is probably limited (they are very far from family and about to have a baby) but it is so wonderful to have for now and I feel so so grateful that we will be on maternity leave and learning how to take care of newborns together. I feel like we will keep each other sane, and also I think have a lot of fun in the process.

I started cooking in earnest!!!!! at the start of 2023 I was not a confident cook at all and it took me forever to make even simple things. but this year I made 105 new recipes and became someone who genuinely enjoys cooking as a hobby. I look at recipe blogs for fun now and I get really into meal planning and I find it kinda therapeutic to spend time preparing delicious healthy meals. this is my proudest accomplishment of 2023 because I really intentionally set goals, made a plan, and spent the year successfully executing it. yay!

I went to Japan and Korea with my mom and we had SUCH a good time. it was so fun to see her with her best friend (I’ve never seen my mom with a true BFF before!!) and it was just one of those trips I think we will both remember forever. it made me want to try to travel more with her—no idea how to make that happen with a baby but I’m determined!

I got a new job :) it was truly Dream Job for the first few blissful months and it’s still really, really, really good, just about to get a little more complicated with some internal reorganizations. on the whole though it’s been SUCH a positive experience. I love my team, I really like all the people I’ve met, and I enjoy going to work every day. the one thing missing is that I really, really want to teach and haven’t yet worked out a way to do that. but I am hopeful that I can get there in the next year or two, and then it really might be Dream Job for the long haul.

I spent many months trying to get pregnant. my path was a lot shorter and a lot easier than many people I know (I got pregnant in six total IUI cycles), but lord it also wiped out my savings and then some, and I found the process itself to be joyless and emotionally pretty excruciating. I felt really bad about my body and my gender and my self! it sucked! I don’t want to go into it further just know that I kinda hated it!

I lost my first pregnancy :( I don’t have to relive it here I’ve already processed it aloud so many times but it was one of the harder experiences of my adult life, and I think was made much more difficult by the fact that my SIL was pregnant on almost the exact same timeline, so I watched her live every happy exciting milestone while I was deep in grief. I feel like I’m in an okay place about it now and I’ve done the processing I need to, but boy that was a rough summer. the good part was that I felt so, SO loved and taken care of by my friends and family throughout the entire experience. I will remember that feeling always! but I miss my little baby and I still think about him and I’m still so sad I’ll never get to meet him.

I had a great year with my dogs. I love them so much and gosh they are LOVING life in the pacific northwest—so many trails and so much more outdoor time, especially in the summer. Pip and I did an agility class and an urban parkour class this year and it is always so fun to watch him learn/problem-solve and to bond with him that way. I am hoping to try a class with ruthie this spring (although her leash reactivity is so bad indoors that it might be challenging lol). but yeah they were the lights of my life this year and a source of so much comfort and joy, as always. nothing is better than loving and being loved by little animals who live in your house 😭 I am so lucky to have them.

I started trying to make new friends! and to push myself to be better/more proactive about sustaining and investing in existing friendships! this is going to be one of my main areas of focus/growth for 2024 but I feel like I started making strides in this direction and I want to keep working at it.

I got pregnant again :) I’m 18 weeks along and so far everything is good and baby is healthy. the first trimester was rough and I did not feel like myself!! I felt like it reactivated all of the grief and fear I hadn’t fully resolved yet from the first loss, and I had a really hard time in my own brain for many, many weeks. but the further along I get the better I feel emotionally and the more I open myself up to hope. I am out of my mind excited about being a parent aaaaaaaaaa I wish time would speed up and bring him to me faster! I love him so much already and I think all the time about what he’s going to be like. I cannot wait I cannot wait I cannot wait. and I’m SO excited for my parents too, esp my mom, who is over the moon and has been so great about making me feel loved and supported in this process even as I go it solo. aaaaa I’m going to have a BABY!!!!!! a little tiny baby!!!!!!! he’s going to live in my HOUSE!!!!!!!! I’m trying to make myself enjoy the last months of only being responsible for myself but honestly I’ve had 34 years of that and I’m ready for the next adventure. yayayayayay what a joyful note to end this year on!!!

[easypeasylindyvesey]

APRIL 2027- PART 23

I’m awoken by what I think happens to be an accidental drop of a cooking pan as it falls to the floor, making a startling loud noise. I lie frozen for a few seconds, giving my brain and body the time to process what I just heard. I hear a “Sorry!” being yelled from the kitchen.

I roll over to the other side of my bed, staring at the early evening sun shining through the sliding doors. I look at the clock on the nightstand. It reads 5:02. Damn, how long was this nap? Guess I needed the rest. I look from the curtains to the ceiling to the TV and to the closed door, where I’ll be met with the noise once I open it. I take a few more minutes to stretch and contemplate the thought of burying myself in here even further before making the hard decision of abandoning the comfort and opening the door to make my way into the kitchen, about to embrace the uncomfortable.

The sound of a sizzling pot heightens my attention. Jimmy’s cooking the chicken that was left on the counter since the early afternoon. His bed head hair has returned, his sweatshirt scrunched up and his concentration on making dinner the correct way so that he doesn’t burn the apartment down. He’s never been that much of a cook, but if someone’s able to cook basic necessities when it comes to food, then it’s not a total loss. I’m not much of a cook, either, mainly because I hate the preparation process, but I’ve started to grow into it for a little while. I’ve utilized the stovetop and oven here several times already.

He’s moving the chicken around in the pot with a plastic spatula before turning to see me creepily standing behind him. “Did I wake you earlier?” he speaks. “I didn’t realize how much of a mess my cabinets were.”

I shake my head. “No, you’re fine. Can’t sleep for too long, anyway.”

“How did you sleep?” He’s genuine when he asks that.

“Good.”

“Do you mean that?”

I stare at him. “Yes. What, you gonna interrogate me every time you think I’m lying?”

“No, of course not,” he replies. “I just want to know, that’s all.”

Yeah, okay. “What about you?”

“Pretty good,” he mumbles. “Hey, you wanna help me out? I’ve got potatoes in the pantry. They’re microwaveable, so you can just toss them in there for however long and then cut them.”

“I can gladly do that,” I boast. I make my way over to the pantry and grab the bag of potatoes from the shelf, and look on the back. They’re supposed to be cooked between 8 and 9 minutes. I settle directly in the middle for 8 minutes and 30 seconds. I think that’s enough time to diffuse the bomb that’s invisible to him.

I punch in the time on the microwave and hit the Start button. I lean back against it, looking at him continuing to cut the rest of the chicken. I’ll wait until he’s done. I don’t want to risk him cutting a finger with the knife, let alone him pointing it at me.

I want to make myself useful, but I don’t know how, so I take out 2 glasses from the top cabinet and place them on the countertop. I take the water pitcher out of the fridge and pour ourselves each a glass. For fun, I put in some ice cubes to keep it cold. He’s gonna need it.

I put the pitcher back in the fridge and walk around the island, pulling out a chair. I sit down and look at the microwave. Two minutes have passed. This is taking way too long. The silence just might kill me.

But I make a choice for it to not.

“Can we, uh, can we talk?” I say to his back.

Jimmy turns down the heat on the stove, turning around to meet my gaze. He steps aside so that he can continue to watch the chicken cook. “Yeah,” he says. “What about?”

How do I say this nicely?

“About the Uber,” I start.

“What, you didn’t like it?” He’s confused.

“No, I mean about us waiting for the Uber.”

He crosses his arms. “What happened before the Uber?”

I sigh. “Remember you told me to let you know if Uber sent a notification confirming our ride?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, so when your phone went off while you were in the bathroom, I thought it was them. So, I went to go and see. Only, it wasn’t them. It was a text from Lavi. Apparently, he said that I must’ve been grateful to have you with me, and that what you had to witness was probably scary.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Why would you tell him?”

“Because he’s our coach. He deserves to know.” Really, that’s a valid reason?

“No,” I scoff. “No, he does not. Whatever happened in that room stays in there. Well, at least it was supposed to.”

“What, that’s seriously a rule?” I can’t tell if he’s joking.

“Where the fuck have you been?” I argue. “Yes, it is! I can’t even trust you now!”

“Yes, Abb, you can,” he begins. “I only did it to help you out.”

I get out of my chair and pace over to the living room area. “You did not do it to help me. You did it because you felt the need to involve yourself in something where your concern is not necessary.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I sigh even louder. “It means that everytime I do something, you have to go tell someone else. What’s the point of letting him know? He wasn’t gonna wake up in the middle of the night to come deal with this shit. God, you’re such a fucking blabbermouth, it’s insane. Did anyone ever tell you secrets? Did they even believe that you could keep them? Well, guess what? Now, this one’s out.”

“But it’s not a secret,” Jimmy says. I can sense the agitation increasing in his voice. “It didn’t have to be.”

“It could’ve been something that only both of us had to be there for!” I yell. I’m almost at my wits end. “And why the fuck did you tell everyone else?”

“I didn’t tell everyone else,” he mutters quickly. He looks up at the ceiling.

“Do not play fucking dumb with me right now, you did, Jimmy! Jesus Christ, why would you do that?!”

“I wanted to help you!”

“You’re doing anything but helping me! You’re making it so much worse!”

“Hey, I’m not the one that woke up screaming “Help me!”, okay? I took it as a sign that you were subconsciously asking for it.”

“I was screaming “Help me!” because he was being lowered into the ground while he was still alive, and all the dirt fell on top of him, and then they slammed his headstone to seal it shut. I couldn’t help him!”

“Yeah, and you wouldn’t have been able to in real life, anyway. Not even if he was bleeding out right next to you.”

Since when did he get so violent with his words? I guess this is his coping mechanism.

“Even if you both went home together that night, and if the accident still happened, and it was the same result, you would have not been able to save him, Abby. I’m telling you the truth. The only thing you would’ve been able to do is say your goodbyes while he could still hear them. And yeah, he didn’t die immediately, but you still would’ve had to prepare yourself for the worst case scenario. No one would’ve been able to help you, then. And according to you, no one can help you now.”

I move to stand in front of the TV. “I never asked for it. You just assumed that I needed it given the situation. I don’t like that you view me as some liability.”

“Is that what you think this is?”

“YES!” I yell so loud that I am sure it’s silenced the nearby apartments. The only sounds I hear are the pan on the stove and the beeping on the microwave, telling me the potatoes are ready.

“I’m not doing this again,” Jimmy announces.

“Fine, take the easy way out, then,” I snap back. “Like you always do.”

“Since when do I take the easy way out?”

I bury my face in my hands. “You are deliberately choosing to project my instances of weakness and spread them around to everyone else you know like it’s a rumor. Instead of coming to me to talk about it, you defer it off of everyone else to make sure they know so that in case they ask me about it, the first thing I won’t assume is that you told them. Yet, you still did.”

“I told you - I didn’t,” he says sternly. “I told Lavi, and then he told the rest of them.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Abby, c’mon-”

“You seriously expect me to believe that after you just lied to my face? God, you’re a fucking shit show.”

“You’re been performing like you’re in one.”

The silence creeps in again.

“Just thought I’d mention that Goody asked me how I was feeling after it happened while we were on the plane. He told me that you told everyone that I woke up screaming.”

He stares at me again, his lips folded into a frown.

“You’re a liar.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“You really thought you’d get away with it, didn’t you?”

“I wasn’t trying to get away with anything. I was just-”

“Trying to help me, said no one.”

“Are we done here?”

I laugh maniacally. “See, here we go again. Now who’s the one rushing?”

“Don’t do that.”

“As a matter of fact, I will.”

Jimmy turns around to shut off the stove. The smell of freshly cooked chicken evaporates into the air. It smells so good. I walk over to the island and take a long sip of water before his nonsense continues.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you.”

I shake my head. “Too late for that.”

“Abby, it’s not that big of a deal. Everyone was concerned about you. I swear, no one was wondering why it happened or what exactly you were panicking about. I didn’t actually tell them the reason why.”

It’s not that big of a deal.

“So, if I told everyone that you woke up screaming for no reason, you’d be fine with it?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m not convinced.”

“You’d be okay with meeting up with them for the first time since it happened, and it wouldn’t occur to you that the first thought they had once they saw you is ‘Oh, hey, he had a panic attack?’ You wouldn’t care, whatsoever?”

“No.”

“So what made you think it’d be okay to tell everyone? Because it’s me?”

“Because I was worried.”

“Then you tell me that you’re worried. You don’t go around gossiping to everyone else. They could’ve gone the rest of their lives not knowing that. Why couldn’t it have just stayed between us?”

He doesn’t speak again.

“Have you ever thought to think about how I feel? How that affected me? Because it was scary. I’ve never had one before. I seriously had no idea what was going on. I thought that I was stuck in some world that I never thought I’d get out of. You have no idea what it feels like to be haunted by the same face every single waking minute of every single day. Do you?”

He looks down at his feet.

I take another long sip of water. “That’s what I thought.”

“What the hell do you want me to do, Abby? Huh? What would make you feel better?”

“Staying out of my way,” I confirm.

“I do stay out of your way.”

I laugh again. “And for my next magic trick, I present another lie!”

“What do you mean? I do.”

“Like hell you don’t! You’re always there, in my space. Next to me, in front of me, behind me, across the room. I literally feel like I’m suffocating.”

“Then if you want space, go the fuck back home.”

“You’re the one who said we shouldn’t be by ourselves,” I retort. “I took it to heart.”

“Oh, you did? Are you sure you didn’t replace your heart with Ryan’s?”

He’s just reached a whole new level of low. I want to take that knife he cut the chicken with and drag it along his skin before I impale it through him. What a fucking jerk.

I held on for as long as I could, but frustrated tears escape my eyes. I cannot believe that I have to put up with this. Out of all the men I’ve ever known, I never thought his kind and quiet persona was a lifelong mask for his insecurity.

“Are you gonna cry every time I say something to you?” Jimmy has the nerve to ask. I guess he’s always sucked at reading the room. “You’re the one telling me to communicate, yet you can’t even do it yourself.”

I’ll do him one better.

I clench my fists and release my hands, spreading my fingers apart. If I had any strength in my hands, I could wreck that baby face of his. He sure doesn’t look like a man with that, and he sure as hell doesn’t act like one.

“Well?”

“I hate you,” I mutter.

“For what? Me being honest?”

“For you being a dick.”

“I’m just telling it like it is. If anything, you’re the one not handling it properly.”

“Are you trying to gaslight me?”

“I’d never attempt to gaslight someone who hasn’t been in their right mind. That’s just wong.”

“You’re wrong.”

“About what?”

“About everything.”

“And what does that constitute?”

“Giving me a timeline on how long to grieve, showing too much emotion, being embarrassed.”

He furrows an eyebrow. “Embarrassed about what?”

“You.”

He elicits a sarcastic laugh. “You know, for what it’s worth, Abby, at this rate, you should’ve just went and died with him.”

“And you should’ve died on the way to the hospital.”

“Not before I know you’re out of here. My heart would feel so much lighter, knowing I wouldn’t have had to deal with you and your constant crying and the constant burden that you give me.”

“Fuck you.”

“Is that so? I’ve only been helping you, right?”

“Stop.”

“What? That’s my only use. I’m not here to make you feel better. I’m here to put up with you because he was unable to do it himself. Actually, that’s a lie. He did it for almost 2 years.”

I lift the glass cup in my right hand.

“It’s a shame he never got to 2, is it?”

I start to lightly toss it in my palm.

“Guess he wanted an easy way out.”

I throw the glass near his head, but I miss and it hits the oven and bounces off onto the floor. Then, I take his glass that he didn’t drink out of and toss all of the water into his face, watching it drip down his sweatshirt. He looks up at me, mouth agape. My face is tear-stained, beet red, both hands shaking.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Damn right I did,” I croak, my voice dry from all the times I raised my voice.

“You know what? You can go to your room.”

“Don’t talk to me like a child.”

“Isn’t that the way you’re acting right now?”

I take the knife resting on the countertop and throw it down on his socks. 

“Wow. For someone so strong, you know how to retreat real quickly when it gets bad.”

Streams of tears escape my eyes. “Shut up.”

“Is that what you want me to do?”

“It’s what I always wanted you to do!” I shrill scream.

He reaches down to pick up the knife and points it at me, the blade in complete alignment with my chest. And yet I said that I was afraid of him doing that. “Consider it done.” He opens up the utensil drawer and places it back with all the other knives, shutting it close. He stares back at me, giving me the biggest death glare I’ve ever seen. He should’ve killed me when he had the chance.

I turn around and make my way out of the kitchen, walking through the door into my room, slamming the door behind me. Yeah, I did it on purpose. He’s grown enough to handle all the noise. I immediately fumble with the lock so that he has no chance of getting in here, unless he takes out a knife from the kitchen and uses it to unlock the door, or he breaks it down with his own bare hands or perhaps throwing a larger piece of furniture. I don’t think he’s gonna take that opportunity, though, as I hear another slam of a door, which I can guarantee is his own. I break into another fit of sobs, leaning my back against the wall, letting them escape without another pair of eyes judging me. He’s probably going to always see me as weak, isn’t he? Too emotional? Too sensitive? Always stuck in the same place?

With the tiniest amount of courage I have, I push myself off the wall and walk over to the edge of the bed, sitting down. I blankly stare at the TV, and then at the closet. It just occurred to me that all of the stuff I brought with me from the condo has been placed in the closet that’s closest to the bed. This one is empty.

I get up, again, and approach the closet, turning the handle. When I open it, I almost expect for something to jump out of me, but I’m met with absolutely nothing. How did I not think to spread all of my shit out? Why am I cramming everything into one space? The irony that I’m currently doing that with my emotions is what I consider to be diabolical, yet fitting. Maybe I should move some things? No, I’m not up for that right now. Although, it is pretty spacious enough for me to hide in case he comes looking for me if we have another argument like this ever again. He can’t hurt me if he can’t see me.

This was not how it was supposed to go. We were supposed to have dinner, make small talk, perhaps watch TV to distract our minds and thoughts. I don’t wanna say I’m underreacting. I will admit that I didn’t have to yell at Jimmy like that, but deep down, I think he knows I’m right. He’s not helping me get through this. In fact, he’s digging the hole a little bit deeper each day. What happened to the idea of us being there for each other? Sticking together when times got tough? It’s going to get worse before it gets better. He’s acting as if I’m the one disrupting his routine, which I guess I am. In the short time I’ve known him, I never would’ve thought he’d be so cruel and careless with his words. I’ve never seen him leave his even-tempered state. I know he didn’t yell, but I’m taking this as a buildup of what’s to come. He’s going to yell and scream and lose both his voice and his mind, and it’s going to be because of me. Heck, maybe he’ll point a knife at me again. Shifting the blame is certainly how he deals with emotions.

I leave the closet door open and make my way over to the window. I forgot that the curtains are still open from my nap. I place my hand on the door to the outdoor balcony and twist the handle, being met with the cool early evening April air. High-thin clouds have infiltrated their way across the sun, so it’s not as bright. My eyes have become dry and crusty from the tears. I look down and watch the traffic zoom right on by before I get the chance to hyperfixate on a certain car or a certain building. I see some people roaming on the sidewalk. Some have their dogs, others are going for a quick walk, and here I am, in my present role as the observer and never the partaker.

My feet make their way to stand on separate sides of the balcony railing, my hands following pursuit. I rock back and forth, wondering if I should make the choice. I mean, after all, he wouldn’t be there to catch me. He’d have to continue his streak of not being able to help. Only this time, it would’ve been out of his control. In fact, I think at this rate, he’d strongly encourage it, considering how much of a burden I am.

I look out into the sky, taking deep breaths as I watch the sun slowly start to fade away and the clouds take over. Damn, even the weather knew the change in the mood.

“Why would you do this to me?” I mutter. “Why would you leave me with him?”

Come on, Ry. I know you’re listening.

“He fucking sucks,” I continue.

Didn’t I know that already?

“Can you just, like, knock some sense into him or something?”

The wind starts to shift, my hair moving with the breeze. It feels calm, yet I’m not relaxed. Maybe it can blow the stained tear mess off my face.

I guess he heard that one.

“I can’t put up with this forever,” I tell him. “Can’t you just come back or something?”

We both know that won’t work.

“If you wanna help, you gotta make it easier on me. I feel like I’m doing all of this by myself, now more than ever because I can’t trust him. How did I ever?”

It’s true, because how did I? Prior to this, we were good friends. We’d text and go strolling through the city and talk nonsense. I never really got angry in front of him or cried or anything. He’d always do whatever he could to make my life a little bit easier and never ask for anything in return. Given what just ensued, I can ponder that maybe he does want something. I’m just not sure what.

“I miss you,” I conclude. “I hope you’re doing alright.”

And with that, I step off the balcony and walk back into my room, shutting the doors and closing the curtains. I would take a shower, but that would mean I’d have to leave, and I don’t want to risk another confrontation. Instead, I settle for a more comfortable alternative, something that could never hurt me.

My bed.

I never remade it when I got up from my nap because I would’ve just been crawling back into it anyway, so I prop up some pillows and lean my head back against them. I reach for the remote on the nightstand and turn on the TV. If this isolation is going to be the result of every argument, I just might not survive.

[valadren]

I didn’t really make friends growing up.

Ever since I can remember early on I was seen as the weird kid, the outcast, but, critically, my teachers really liked me. It was pretty easy in my head to do that, classrooms usually had basic rules told to us as kids, and they were things like raise your hand to speak, sit properly, share, stuff like that. I learned pretty quickly that most teachers like you if you talk to them about the things you were learning in class. I always imagine myself wearing that cloak from Zatch Bell when I think about my grade school me, which is funny because the only other memory I have about clothes from my childhood was how horrible most of them felt on my body.

I don’t think my parents really noticed how lonely I felt at school, how much I dreaded going because my teachers all pretty much only had nice things to say until the homework burden got higher, later into grade school and into middle school. See, I was a precocious reader, and I picked up basic mathematics really easily, so part of my early school years was going to gifted programs. I remember having a really stern math teacher who was also extremely funny and cool one-on-one, my favorite kind of teacher tbh. But once my school work got more complicated, I found myself struggling to pay attention, I had focus issues, if you can imagine, and this was during the time that video games became sort of the de facto hobby in me and my older sibling’s life. We used to play with our myriad action figures as kids, my sibling grew out of them, the only way I could hang out with them was by playing video games, but I never dropped the action figure habit to this day. Almost every game I play I have action figure representatives for my party members, weapons built out of knex, so I could reimagine, or redirect the scenes, I like feeling the action in my hands, moving each limb meticulously to approximate these things. If I knew how to animate I would probably end up liking it.

Focus issues. My parents were struggling with this, both their children seemed to not have many friends and usually sit inside playing video games. Both of them were slipping in their grades, so our usual punishment when we’d get bad progress reports was to get our games (and my action figures) confiscated. I remember sneaking into their room on one of the days we were home alone (it was a different time back then), sneaking out one male and one female action figure to hide in my desk. I needed to have something to do with my hands that wasn’t breaking pencils or chewing on them, or chewing on my hair when I got to have it long enough. I can still remember the feeling of each of these things like I’ve been doing them all my life.

Another thing that maybe hid my isolation was that as a family we were always moving. I spent my summer and winter breaks living with my grandmother in Illinois, while my mom moved from Missouri to Texas and then from Texas to New Jersey. I didn’t have consistent friends or even a consistent school until we got to Jersey. I was maybe 10 or so. Even then, I had very loose connections with friends. I wanted to have birthday parties but by then I had grown conscious of how much people avoided me, I had people who would call me the devil, who hated me because they hated my older sibling, who generally found me weird and avoided me, so asking people to come to my party, to the place where my parents would be stressing out constantly about how messy my room always is, how disrespectful it would be to have company over, it felt like a losing prospect. I didn’t want to bother people who didn’t want to come to a place that would incidentally house a couple of very stressed out adults.

Somewhere in this time period I was moved into this mid-school program, I want to say by middle school vaguely, but I genuinely can’t remember when this happened. It was a weird program too, it was two teachers, one of whom was the fun one, the other I only vaguely remember having dark hair and glasses and being… nice? I think she was the one who asked me if I wanted to help out here and keep these kids company, but it was asked after I was moved into here anyway. Mostly we would play chess or checkers or YuGiOh or connect four (I’m very good at connect four but that’s mostly because it’s easy). Every kid there was one of the weird ones in school, and I was trying to not be that. I was trying to get in with some cool kids who very explicitly hated having me around. I got to know the kids in this weird program pretty well. One was a chess prodigy, or at least he seemed that way to me. My parents suggested that this could have been another gifted program, or that I was assisting the school with this, but I know what a gifted program looks like, I’d been in them all through grade and middle school and they never had two teachers for one classroom. And being a teacher’s assistant, I looked it up for that school, requires parental signatures to opt me in and neither of my parents recall doing this at all.

But this was what things were like for me back then. I was a teacher’s pet until I couldn’t keep up with the school work, I had maybe one or two friends I was close with, almost none of them are in my life anymore, and most interestingly, I grew to have a lot of weird habits. For the longest time I didn’t have opinions on art, at least not until the person I was talking to expressed theirs, which I would then adopt, to make talking with them easier and more pleasant. I never really told many people about my interests, what music I liked, what games I play, that I was huge into anime like Sailor Moon and Yu Yu Hakusho, I kind of figured that I didn’t have the same taste as everyone else, because if I did I’d have more friends. It didn’t help that my perception of my own taste varied wildly. I believed I had so much better taste in music and film than my peers because my parents wanted me to appreciate good art. The first two albums I ever remember listening to as a kid were the White Album by the Beatles (which as a fun aside I used to listen to one song on it on loop to go to sleep to until my stepdad literally begged me to stop), and the Cabaret OST. I was maybe 6 or 7 or so. I think. I was shown the Matrix when I was really young too, Spirited Away, Moulin Rouge, Lord of the Rings, but everything that I had gotten into because my sibling was, or because I saw it on cable TV at my grandmother’s, or a friend got me into, I never had any confidence that those were good at all. I had two grown up adult people telling me constantly what was good and bad art, and they were usually pretty dismissive of video games in general and most anime, down to my stepdad getting genuinely shocked that we watched something as fucked up as Yu Yu Hakusho, what with all the blood and vagina plants (he watched the Karasu fight with us whoops).

I had these pseudo classes in school too. Things like “how to look like you’re paying attention” or people lecturing on what body language makes you seem rude, and it was constantly pitted against these conflicts with my peers where they found me obnoxious for reasons that were never made clear to me, and the increasing number of times I’d do something in public with my family and have them pull me aside and yell at me for being thoughtless or selfish or rude. I have a cumulative weight of experiences where I have been told that whatever it is that I’ve wanted to do, or things that I’ve said, or done, have been actually pretty mean to people. That I need to be aware of my actions. Actions speak louder than words. If I really wanted to be a good student I would be. If I really wanted to have a tidy room, I’d do it. If I really was passionate about music or writing or acting or directing I would work tirelessly to improve, but I’m always playing video games with my action figures and it’s a shame because I’m very bright, I could be a scholar, I could be a lawyer, I could have been an actor. I’m getting ahead of myself.

I got better at this stuff. A lot better in high school because my theatre program (which was run by my mother it was very weird) helped me develop my performing chops. I got funnier and figured out that being self effacing was effective, it let me off the hook from a lot of social scrutiny, I still do it all the time in public even though I have heard endless discourse about how it’s bad to do this because it only affirms depressive thought patterns or makes you a bad role model or whatever. Looking back on it high school really was the moment that I could see the brain mechanics in play. I had, though I never called them that or considered them that, scripts. I had game plans on how to talk to people I don’t know, that changed if they were people in authority or not (this had a horrible side effect of me being really deferential to the cops that patrolled our school), and more importantly I had been getting better at tailoring myself to friends. I had ways of talking to each individual person, almost subconsciously if not for the fact that I was hyper aware that this made me into a horrible gossip because some of my classmates were gossips. I was a vector for shit talking, and it led to a constant fear of conflict between friends, because I didn’t want to be both party’s confidant.

By undergrad my performative stuff had gotten into full swing. I was a man (at the time) who was sensitive, self degrading, funny, and I wanted to be open about it all. I wanted to be an advocate for sensitive masculinity, I wanted to be up front about my mental health, which had been doing worse and worse with every passing year. I bragged about going to therapy, I was painfully open about everything and it ended up hurting friends I cared about a lot. In retrospect I was a huge dick about it all, and I think that’s the point where I mostly tried to shut the fuck up about most things. I thought I had figured things out but I was still hurting people and I didn’t want to and I lacked the awareness to not do the obviously bad thing. And it didn’t stop there. Post graduation I fell into a group of friends that I got really, really attached to, attached enough that our friendship culminated in a plan to move out of our respective family’s houses and make it on our own. That ended with the friend group excising me like a tumor, and I’m mostly out of contact entirely with almost all of them.

I’m about to finish law school if I can stop writing this and finish my final paper. It took me until near the end of my coursework to realize I put myself through this out of an act of penance for the people I have let down. It felt like the responsible choice to make myself use my talents to make the world a better place, especially if the only cost was my own joy and passion. Things that had, at the time, not amounted to anything but jilted friends, a professor telling me she’d never recommend me as an actor to anyone, a couple of really rough albums that I can’t listen to anymore, and what felt like endless confusion. I could not, and still can’t understand what is so wrong with me, that my interests and wants and needs are always seemingly horrible and selfish and thoughtless while people imposing their needs on me are things that I always have to accommodate. If I were a more arrogant bitch, I’d almost proclaim that I seemingly have the superpower of being the only person on earth who can endlessly forgive people.

I meander a lot when I talk about my brain, about potentially having autism, because I don’t want to be thoughtless about this, and because trying to list out my experiences that led to this feels like it cheapens everything. I have texture issues, I can only sleep under my comforter and no bed sheets, I can’t comfortably wear pants, pajama or otherwise, to bed, there’s a bunch of clothes I have that fit me but have bad texture so I never wear them, but that doesn’t mean anything definitely. None of this does, I am a depressed and anxious person, according to every therapist I’ve ever had, and those things can lead to overthinking, and it could all just be that, it could just be ADHD, it could be that I truly am lazy, and the act of actually self-diagnosing requires a real sense of trust in yourself and that is the one thing that was beaten out of me growing up. How can I trust myself when my actions have been speaking for me against my will all my life? How do I feel like I have real agency in my life when I am playing Russian roulette with every social encounter I have? How do I know if I’m autistic or if I’m just actually a bad person? And this problem can start a wildfire in my head too, like, okay, I know how the script goes here, you’re supposed to say that I’m valid and that my lived experiences should be honored and there’s no shame in figuring things out and self diagnosing but none of that feels real. None of that is what’s said when I’m hurt and the response is that I should be more thoughtful of the other side, or that I should be able to get over this, or that I don’t have to feel guilty about the things I did to people because someone was lying about me during the entire situation. It is one thing to say that my experiences should be valid, but I don’t think I have ever felt comfortable in validity, especially in validity that’s so easily retracted.

Today is apparently autism pride day. I have never been one for genuine celebrations of pride because I don’t feel proud of most things that aren’t some of my video essays. I wanted to share my thoughts on my identifying with autism as something that helps me understand my head a little better, that answers these questions that otherwise would lead to the conclusion that I’m just a bad person in some immutable way. It’s hard to take pride in myself for things that I am, rather than the things that I do, but maybe just trying to get my thoughts on the page can be a start.

[pennyserenade]

under the cut. tw about body and weight stuff

i’ve struggled with weight and body issue stuff for as long as i can remember. at one point during my freshmen year of high school i was only eating 800 calories a day and crying because i was so miserable and hungry and tired but i didn’t know what else to do. i hated myself because i strived for perfection that i knew would never, ever come. over the past couple of years i’ve worked immensely hard to overcome this. i’ve seen every woman in my family struggle with this my entire life and i know how hard it’s been on them. they aren’t happy and they hate everyone else because of it and i don’t want any part of it. for the entirety of this summer i’ve spent my days off in two piece swimsuits i once cried over, thinking that the days of those were over when i found my first stretch marks at twelve. i’ve eaten what i’ve pleased, haven’t weighed myself in well over two months - bc that’s so stupid too! - and have made it my goal to never let myself feel angry when i eat “too much” one day. i don’t even deny myself food the next day like i used too bc i don’t care! my family is genuinely terrible when it comes to this, so much that they monitor and comment on my five year old nephew. i knew once i seen them do that for the first time that i had to change for him, if not for me, and in a serious way. i’ve greatly overcome a lot of what used to scare me but i know i have a long way to go. im just so fucking pleased to be free of hating myself every day and i’m so so so excited to give him something i never had, which is someone who knows how silly this is too. i love that little boy so much and id do anything for him. he makes me better

[villainkinconfessions]

Y’know, if back in source you told me that I would be stripped of my abilities and put in a regular human body where I would have to abide by the laws of the human government because I didn’t even have something as small as superhuman strength, I would probably laugh and then kill you immediately after, off to complete my mission of eradicating monsterkind.

But here we are.

To be honest I think death would be a much more preferable option than this. Here I’m not hated or feared or anything of the sort outside of my media where the best I can get is some fanart and a bad creator! At first it was fun to mess around but after realizing that I had eyes following my every move waiting for me to slip up and my actions actually had consequences that I couldn’t escape from I realized that this is actually more hell than I ever could’ve expected!

Do you know how demoralizing it is to know that no matter what your achievements would always be seen as less intense than they actually were? That even though your friends know who you are and what you’ve done they don’t actually care or understand the gravity of who you actually are just because you’re an introject of a fictional character? Not to mention the fact that sometimes I have this innate urge to manipulate people or use their fears against them because of who I was in source, I just want them to fear me and to know that they are messing with somebody who’s so much bigger than them but I can’t because this body has some stupid hypocritical moral code that I have to follow!

That’s not even the worst part either. It isn’t the inability to see the world I lived in again or not being able to use my cool powers or the not being feared or even me not being able to complete the mission that I’m still holding onto, no.

The worst part is that I might genuinely regret the things I’ve done no matter how much I convince myself that I don’t.

Most of it was fun for me, don’t get me wrong. The plannings, the killings, stealing souls, all of it was glorious! But now I’m not there anymore, now I’m stranded and the only thing that remains is a sourcemate in the same brain who hates me (which, atleast I have that I guess) and a series that details things that I can’t even remember, even my own memories were taken from me.

Now that I’m able to take a step back and genuinely look at everything I’ve done I think, despite how much I’ve been trying to deny it, I genuinely regret what happened and I feel a bit of remorse. I don’t actually know if it’s me being influenced by the body or if it’s me me but despite everything I still regret it.

The people I attacked, those I killed and manipulated and hurt and controlled just wanted peace, they were more than just “humans” and “monsters” but I wasn’t able to understand that, how could a being who is so different from them comprehend something like passion or hope? I heavily doubt that I’ll find anybody who’s there and connected to source so I doubt apologies will do much, I don’t even think I want to find anyone anymore.

If they’re out there from my source then Frisk, Chara, Asriel, Gaster, Sans, Papyrus- hell even Jessica or Copper just anybody from my source

I’m sorry. I am genuinely sorry. No tricks up my sleeve, no gaining your trust to betray you, I’m just- sorry. I don’t actually care if I’ll ever be forgiven.

I hate this, I hate how bad it feels. Maybe this is the punishment I deserve? Or maybe I was just unlucky enough to have some child find comfort in my source. Whatever it is it brought me here and now I have to start doing things that I never thought I’d do in my entire life. I hate that I might not actually want to be feared anymore.

What is a Bête Noir without Fear anyway? Am I just nothing now? I don’t think I even care.

Atleast I have Kumu.

I apologize for the fact that this is so long, I just had to get feelings out.

- Betty / Bête Noir from Glitchtale, please tag as Fictive and not fictionkin

.

[shreddedparchment]

How can this be? How can I be all caught up on your writing? What am I gonna do with myself now?

I’ve been here a long time, and I’ve read a LOT of fan fiction. The way you write is so visually compelling, thick with detail and the way you write stage direction is chefs kiss! Your mastery of body language and the way dialogue fits into a situation or conversation physically has always felt so natural. I Can feel you seeing a scene as you write it. Even your earliest work feels full of imagination and true sight!

Pseudo princess. Gorgeous. Emotional. Delicious for my brain.

That one, what was it?, where reader was the only one who remembered her life with Thor and their pregnancy? Parallel? Gut wrenching. Soul crushing. Completely visceral experience. I’ll never get over that chapter of her breakdown in Tony’s dungeon. It’ll stay with me.

I saw that you’ve been writing less, and that you just had major surgery. I don’t know if you’ll be back writing and I want you to know that that is ok. I love what you do and even if you don’t post it or even write it, you are still a writer. And im gonna be here, rereading, browsing, lurking, reblogging those aesthetic flower pics. I’m so proud of you. You are so talented.

I love you!

-Kat

Kat! I am undeserving of such high praise! You can't imagine what and encouragement it is for me when you give me your genuine reactions. Not only is it fun for me to see how you perceive my storytelling, but it also helps me keep going. I've been having a lot of imposter syndrome lately now that my endo is "cured" and I didn't realize how much of my personality my pain had become.

All that said, you are such a positive part of my experience here on tumblr. Thanks for always being so lovely and excited in my comments and reblogs. It legit makes me so happy when you hate on my characters because it means I'm doing something right. Lol ❤️

[wool-f]

Wellness: Through & Through | Part Two: Pilates

If you subscribe to me, you’d know I posted a video on my channel not very long ago about my experience trying pilates for two months. It’s now been four months, and I can fully say that I am a member of the pilates cult that seems to be taking girl social media by storm.

I remember the first time I really began to see the rise in popularity of reformer, and it was just after an article where Lori Harvey said she loved pilates. After that, pilates was everywhere, and I really mean everywhere.

On TikTok, Instagram, Facebook even, my colleagues in the office were talking about how they were thinking of trying it, and my friends were signing up to expensive studios around Melbourne to get into the newest fad of fitness.

I say fad very loosely, because once I began classes at my local studio, I realised this trend was very quickly going to become a habit for me.

I’ll be honest, I was doubtful about whether pilates would do anything crazy to my body, and boy was I surprised! I had heard one of my friends talk about it previously but didn’t really think anything of it, until suddenly every second girl and their mother were achieving insane results from five 45 minute workouts a week.

I was flawed. I wish I’d listened to my friend sooner (take this as a lesson well learnt from me). So my friend and I decided to join a studio, and we got a pretty good starter deal. Pilates is quite expensive, it’s definitely not an affordable fitness method if you’re wanting to go to an actual studio, I will say that much.

Four months down the track, I can genuinely say I’ve never stuck to any fitness regime the way I have stuck to pilates, and I have never felt better. In the first two months of going to pilates consistently, I dropped FOUR KILOGRAMS without trying.

A disclaimer to this is that I never started this wellness adventure to lose weight - I don’t hate my body or myself, and I always wanted the focus to remain on how I feel about myself and my mental wellbeing, and what ways my physical health could assist with improving those aspects of my life. That being said, I can’t ignore the obvious difference in my body since beginning pilates.

Outside that, and now that I am well into my pilates obsession, I have a few notes on the difference it has made on my body.

I feel stronger in all ways, and I’m sleeping way better. I have gotten myself into the routine of getting up early to go to the studio and take a class before my work day begins and I notice that I have so much more mental clarity and motivation throughout my day. If I don’t get up and exercise before beginning my workday I often feel lethargic and foggy in my mind. I love the feeling of finishing a class and coming out of the heated room into the fresh air - my cheeks flushed and lungs breathing in the crisp smells of the early morning, and the satisfaction I feel when I finish a really tough class. I have increased my weight usage from 2kgs being my difficult weight to 4kg. I’m just happier as a person, obviously because any exercise creates endorphins.

If you’ve been looking for a sign to try out pilates, let it be this - it is honestly the best investment I’ve ever made in my health and fitness, and it’s an inclusive environment. It’s not necessarily price effective if you want to go to a studio, but there are so many free videos on YouTube you can use too - please try it if you’re even thinking about it.

If you are joining me on this group science experiment, investigating what wellness truly means and how I am achieving it, both physically and mentally, welcome! Comment below any suggestions or trends you are seeing to do with wellness that you’re too afraid to try yourself - I will try them. Also let me know if you tried pilates because of this post or my video! I’d love to hear your feedback :)

If you want to follow along with this experiment with me on a daily basis, please follow my Instagram and TikTok accounts, I am much more active on there and will have little updates throughout the weeks that I am posting the videos.

Leave any comments down below or in my questions box, and we can chat!

Until next week, all my love,

G xx

[tea-with-evan-and-me]

A few things, one do you personally believe Evan has like a fake account and is checking up to see what he fanbase is up to online?

I swear to god I can’t help but worry I’ve interacted with him once without even knowing it and made a complete fool of myself Ajdjjfjfjf

Two, so you think he’s ever been on/knows what Omegle is? (I may or may not pop on there every now and then in his tags to try and find him. Say hi, thank him for existing and dip haha 😅)

Three, do you think Evan genuinely is okay with fans approaching him (when appropriate of course) or think he would approach them by chance??

Like for me I’d prefer him to approach me if I’m wearing any AHS merchandise. Because I don’t wanna bother the man and have him get bombarded by fans, I’d honestly be happy just getting a few words ‘conversation’ in. Maybe an autograph and quick hug if he’s down, probably not a pic together though. As much as I’d love one with him the man deserves to be treated like a human being when he’s not working yknow? (Not saying I wouldn’t love a pic and not hating on fans that do ask for one and whatnot. I just would want to be respectful and not make him feel uncomfy. While he’ll never remember me (maybe he will who knows) I’ll remember him and I don’t want to be remembered as ‘the one fan who was weirdly too polite or some shit) I dunno I’m weird not to mention the very unrealistic and cruel scenarios my head creates. He deserves the world and anyone who meets him should feel incredibly lucky (I’m not putting him on a pedestal, but he’s so genuine and kind. I only want him to get that same energy back is all.)

He has no idea but he’s part of the reason why I’m still here (I know that sounds silly) Mentally I’ve been through a lot still going through a lot. So I’ll hop on YouTube and watch his interviews or watch AHS or clips of him as his characters. Stuff like that it’s bittersweet sometimes but it helps me feel close to him and gives me hope I’ll meet him so I can HOPEFULLY thank him in person. 🥹❤️‍🩹

first off, anon i'm glad you're still here <3

i think evan could possibly give into the very human curiosity of seeing what people say online - maybe not frequently but once in a while. it's hard to say. maybe he's been burnt and decided it's better to avoid at all costs. i do doubt that evan is on omegle these days but back in the day it used to be something we pretty much all did lol

i think in the right circumstance, evan is probably fine with a respectful fan interacting with him. i think most people would be so long as the interaction is appropriate. i always think the most important thing is to recognize time and place and also reading body language. celebrities are humans, too. they may have bad days, may be in a rush, may be with other people who could be made uncomfortable.. so you just have to read the situation and discern if this is a good time to come over and say hi. i think it would be great if he got back to doing conventions so fans would have an opportunity to tell evan how much we love him!