#weight related health problems
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actually that's made me incredibly curious & I feel like I'm gonna know the answer
#I have the feeling it's gonna be other people and self esteem#w a dash of eating disorder#but everyone acts like losing weight would solve our problems#and that it's all health related#but :)#nah my biggest hurdle being fat has been other people's shittiness#which is a them problem and I won't be changing myself to make others happy
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kind of frustrating that people took "fat does not equal unhealthy" to mean "fat is not unhealthy." sometimes being obese IS unhealthy & excess fat can cause a lot of problems. ignoring health issues isn't progressive. real "oranges kill people with depression" moment
#i have a lot to say but i think it all boils down to this:#the only reason people think this way is because they experienced body shaming & bullying for their fatness#& instead of gaining a healthy relationship with their body & its needs they went full denial mode#people that aren't fat that think this way are just going with things uncritically which is also bad btw#because when you have decades of proof that being severely overweight can be detrimental to your health#(& no i don't mean fucking. supersize me. i mean medical proof that too much fat causes diseases & early death)#but you're ignoring that because a tiktok influencer that has no medical experience said so#that is a huge lack of critical thinking skills on display & people are gonna listen to that misinformation & some might die#this isn't some light shit that can be waved off as non-harmful because it IS harmful! it is actively hurting people!!#again being unhealthy isn't a moral failing & no one deserves shit for that!! but that's the whole damn point isn't it!!!#militant fat activists are so afraid of their fatness being associated with anything negative they turn right around into ableism#they don't WANT to be considered disabled! because being disabled IS a moral failing to them. disability is abnormal#& of course being morbidly obese is totally normal. because if it wasn't then they'd need to do work & handle an ED#& that's too much to grapple with mentally so. no. they're normal. super normal. don't look at the lifespan of someone over 300lb#btw i am 100% aware that a lot of this is combined with other issues like racism sexism homo/transphobia genuine fatphobia#but also sometimes they really can't operate on someone that can't recover afterwards#like i wouldn't call the vet bigoted & cat-hating for being unable to operate on my 20yo cat#Minnie would simply not survive that. because she is so damn old#unfortunately for Minnie she can't get younger but people CAN lose weight in multiple different ways#& it may seem like the world is attacking you but you really have to train yourself out of automatic bad faith reactions#''you couldn't possibly understand!!'' yeah okay i'm sooo abled & privileged you got me there (<-sarcasm. if you couldn't tell)#just because someone hasn't experienced your EXACT thing doesn't mean they can't relate & haven't gone through similar#it's so difficult to train your brain out of that shit i get that but you really really really have to. or you will die#or at least be miserable#DISCLAIMER: i'm not talking about every person who has even a little fat on their body. fat is NEEDED#but like all things too much of a good thing can cause problems & fat is not exempt#this is about morbid obesity. not someone who's like 160lb that shit is normal#& people need to stop thinking anything over 110lb is fat#because it isn't & i think most people are getting into unhealthy territory at that low of a weight#basically i view being too fat the same as being too thin. they both cause health problems & should be taken seriously
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Me when someone says some dumb shit about my medical issues
#“You wouldn't have to go to the hospital because you were so weak your legs gave out if you just watched your weight”#GOOD SIR??#I am 5'7 and 160 lbs how much skinnier must I be??#Damn I didn't know that being curvy (cause that's what I am. I have a curvy figure) was directly related to chronic insomnia#We learn something new every day#And not to hate on men but IT'S ALWAYS A MAN WHO SAYS IT#I HAVE STRUGGLED YEARS JUST TO GET A DIAGNOSIS FOR MY SHIT BECAUSE DUMBASS MALE DOCTORS CLAIM#“Oh if you just lost some weight *insert problem here* would be solved!”#IM LITERALLY A VEGETARIAN#I EAT HEALTHIER THAN 99% OF THE PEOPLE IN THIS COUNTRY JUST BECAUSE MOST OF MY DIET IS VEGETABLES AND TOFU#ANY WEIGHT I'M GONNA LOSE I'VE ALREADY LOST#IF JUST LOSING WEIGHT WAS THE PROBLEM DONT YOU THINK I WOULD HAVE SOLVED IT ALREADY??#INSTEAD OF SPENDING THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS ON HOSPITAL AND DOCTORS VISITS?#IM CONSTANTLY BROKER THAN I SHOULD BE BECAUSE THE HEALTH CARE IN THIS COUNTRY IS SHIT#IF THERE WAS AN EASIER OPTION I WOULD HAVE DONE IT ALREADY#I DONT LIKE BEING SICK DURING WHAT'S SUPPOSED TO BE THE PRIME OF MY LIFE#woah okay rant over#sorry for the rant#I don't like to complain but people say dumb shit when I'm not even talking to them#medical issues
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It's so funny looking on my patient portal for my doctors and seeing "patient looks well nourished" on all my visit summaries when it is documented by my blood work that I am, in fact, very much NOT well nourished and have been prescribed multiple high dose supplements now to make up for how malnourished I actually am.
#its pretty clear that what they actually want to say is that they think i could lose some weight#but trying not to use ED triggering or fatphobic language lol#im within the healthy weight range for my height too im just on the higher end of it#my weight is actually not a problem (to me mentally or physical health-wise)#the bigger issue is being deconditioned as FUCK from basically a year of being partially bedbound#thanks to covid kicking my (suspected) POTS into high gear#actually seeing my cardiologist today for a follow up on my exercise stress test and cardio ultrasound and week long heart monitor results#my chart right now says 'unspecified heart condition' but she said if all those tests came back showing nothing then it's most likely POTS#also have a rheumatologist appt next month to attempt to start figuring out what autoimmune condition I have#cuz clearly going based off my chronic pain and positive antinuclear antibody test there's SOMETHING#but all the lupus tests came back negative#which apparently doesn't mean much because they're very unreliable#rambling in the tags again#basically a whole 'nother separate post down here#whoops#ndr#not dog related#health stuff
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Oh hey did u kno a1c (the way blood sugar over time is measured and a diabetes diagnostic) isn’t a number in isolation, it’s specifically in relation to hemoglobin (which is why it’s also called hba1c) and the numbers can be fucked up by anemia?
Anyway I’m going to try to put together an actual for reals study because I am mad as all hell, but poll time!!
#diabetes#a1c#anemia#anemic#health#weight is a super shitty measure of health#diabetes has been declared an epidemic#I am incredibly suspicious though at not testing the iron#it’s a goddamn ratio#you need to know what the denominator is#and theoretically this is health and not my field#but tbh fuck everyone#this is a policy problem#and therefore my field#especially if you’re calling diabetes an epidemic#that makes it emergency management policy related#and therefore entirely my wheelhouse#now that I’m not taking Metformin anymore I has sufficient rage to follow this thread all the way to policies on blood tests
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#im not vagueing anyone specific so if u think this is abt you don't get your underwear twisted okay this is about like. so many ppl.#but it's so fucking frustrating seeing people i know (friends/family/coworkers/etc) going thru so much mental health struggle#often accompanied by physical health issues like weight/skin/pain problems#and knowing their diet is absolutely dogtrash#and trying to come up with a way to tell them that is nice but will maybe get them to think or change their ways#i know i know. you can lead a horse to water and all but it's just fucking agonizing knowing that people are suffering so needlessly#and it would go away if they just put the right food in their bodies#and no this isn't even an injunction to carnivore you can recover significantly with meat-heavy noncarnivore ketogenic diets#but people are so resistant to the idea that they can eat their way out of mental illness even though this is well documented#it just makes me want to rip my hair out that people would really rather stay the same than try something that could make them better#like i really can't fucking relate the whole reason i ended up a carnivore is because i was so *desperate* to be healthy#and trying something for a month just to see sounds so much better than letting everything get worse until i'm literally dying#but then i see so many sick people with garbage diets just completely resist the suggestion that the solution could possibly be so simple#like what more can i do for you? i dont want you to be sick. YOU dont want you to be sick. what do you lose from just trying??#ugh i cant. im so. i know this is going to be my career path but god fucking damn if it isn't infuriating
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Just heard a wellness coach say it’s fatphobic to intentionally lose weight, but if you unintentionally lose weight, it’s okay. Because intentionally losing weight says that you believe smaller is healthier.
And that just makes my blood boil.
One of the symptoms of out of control diabetes is unintentional weight loss. The risk of type 2 diabetes goes up if you’re over two hundred pounds (for some heights) and you carry the excess weight on your stomach.
In short, being smaller reduces your risk of diabetes. Yeah, I know there are those who are just naturally thick, and I’m not arguing for people to go to unhealthy weights. But as someone who grew up with family members who are diabetic, and therefore is at risk myself, you can’t just say stuff like, “Oh, if you’re losing weight unintentionally, that’s not fatphobic!” That is so ignorant! So damaging!
It’s so good to know that if I want to get smaller to avoid getting a life altering disease, I’m fatphobic, but if I lose that weight because of that disease, I’m not!
FAN-tastic!
#I honestly hate this ''fatphobic'' diatribe#because you know what#yeah#maybe I am#I'm not going to sit here and criticize everyone who's overweight#unless weight loss is something they share with me#or maybe if I have a kid in the future who ends up taking the track I'm trying to get off#and I don't want them to share in the health problems obesity causes- genetically or otherwise#but if I don't like the way I look because of my size#and/or I don't want to end up with health issues related to that?#Then maybe you shouldn't shame me for being ''fatphobic'' because I think I have a good reason#to be afraid of fat
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not to be mean, but if you've never had a restrictive ed or bdd then maybe just stop talking about body checking? 90% of the time you lot have no clue what you're talking about, and as someone who's struggled with those issues a majority of my life, the misinformation it spreads can be really damaging to people who are sick regardless of their recovery status.
(please read op tags before you decide to argue, thanks)
#tw ed mention#tw body checking mention#like this isn't a ''thinphobia exists'' post- it doesn't- this is stop treating a symptom of a mental health issue as a gottcha & misrepres#-enting what that behaviour actually is and why people do that.#and i promise you even if someone is body checking like. a) they know nobody needs to be told ''hey op this is body checking''#you can find yourself doing it unintentionally if you're just like existing yeah but like even then when you catch yourself you know that's#what you were doing. and b) any attention beyond ''this is not fair to expose other potentially sick people to'' is just feeding into the#disorder. like attention to the disorder- positive or negative- is seen as validation. it's oh look it's working i'm sick i'm sick*enough*#so like you aren't doing what you think you are doing at all.#idk i feel like a lot of people forget that a) not all eds are restrictive & b) they are a literal mental health condition. they are not a#choice. they often have very little to do with weight at their core. in the case of restrictive eds it is about the fact that you feel#your body is the ONLY thing in your life you can control (with some very dark shit often being the reason for that) and that get's#projected onto control of one's weight. my guess is because that's the most visible display of control. it is a front to mask some sort of#pain that usually ends up being related to trauma. and people of ANY WEIGHT can have a restrictive ed.#and like the same is true of other eds that aren't about restriction- it is rooted in unhealthy emotional coping mechanisms due to HURT#and like. as for bdd which also tends to be misrepresented and have shit slung at it for fuckin whatever reason#please consider a) anyone at any size can have bdd about any feature & b) it's literally and obssesive compulsive disorder (with body check#-ing being the compulsive behaviour for some but not all people) and it has been shown that the way we process our faces & features on a#neurological level is different from those who do not have bdd. and if you listen to any person with bdd they more often than not only have#an issue with their ''problem feature'' ON THEMSELF meaning whatever you want to call it- it's internalized#and even then people don't just wake up and decide every mirror is going to make them feel like they are in a funhouse. though no one#knows what causes it for certain- it is believed to be rooted in genetics comorbid conditions traumatic early life experiences or some#combo thereof. people don't choose it they don't choose which feature it latches onto they don't choose the distress it causes.#set the boundaries you have to set irt your own mental health. that is more than fine. but the moralizing of mental disorders is never#going to help anyone and i have seen a huge uptick of people who do not understand eds not only leaving non restrictive eds out entirley#but acting morally superior on the basis of never having experienced one or never having dealt with bdd or leaving people who don't fit the#prototypical view of what a sufferer of those conditions looks like out without thought.#and again- i want to emphasize- in my experience more often than not it is ppl who admit to having NO EXPERIENCE in that realm.#ableism#mental health
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The way they always say: you'll know what you had after you lost it. But, screaming my lungs out, now tell me - what if I did actually knew how much I had from the very beginning? Isn't my grief now even worse.
#fattest dumpling#weight loss#tw disordered eating#actually mentally ill#mental health#tw self destruction#tw sh related#breakup#tw ana diary#tw ed diet#relationship quotes#relationship goals#relationship advice#relationship problems#relationship dynamics#love#feeling#healthy relationships#lovers#love language
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8th House- What is your danger ⚠️🚫⚡?
Aries on 8th: You are prone to physical danger from sharp subjects such as knifes, kitchen equipments such as microwave oven, cutting utensils, weapons, guns, heat and the Sun. You also are prone to accidents. Your head area must be guarded always.
Taurus on 8th: You are not prone to much physical danger but there are financial dangers such as loans, debts etc. You are also prone to excesses of all kinds, sexual, physical, food etc. Your throat area must be paid attention.
Gemini on 8th: You are prone to danger from social media and your random contacts. You also have problems through your communication. You are prone to danger throuh air element. Thus you may suffer lungs and breathing problems due to pollution, poor air quality etc. You must also avoid smoking.
Cancer on 8th: You are prone to danger from water bodies if you visit beaches, rivers and lakes. You must be careful during swimming, bathtubs etc.
Leo on 8th: You are prone to danger from fire and wildlife animals. You must also avoid overexposure to the Sun. You are at risk of blood pressure and heart ailments.
Virgo on 8th: You are prone to nervous disorders and anxieties and worries. You may also receive wrong medical diagnosis. You may face danger from small pets and infections. You may also have a relative backstabbing you.
Libra on 8th: Your dangers are from wrong relationships and addictive behaviors. You may become too lazy and thus your weight gain may lead to health problems especially related to kidneys
Scorpio on 8th: The danger in your life is related to violence or crimes and underhanded deals. You are exposed to jealosuy, fights or arguments. Anxiety or worries make you prone to accidents, bruises or burns. You are also prone to black magic. Sagittarius on 8th: You must be careful with fire, guns, competitive sports, adventures where you are exposed to accidents. You may also face danger in foreign lands or from foreigners and any mentors.
Capricorn on 8th: You face danger in old age or from old people. Accidents breaking the bones are also possible. Your joints are weak. You may be prone to Government fines.
Aquarius on 8th: You face danger from electricity and electronic items damaged plugs, wires or appliances. You may face danger from friends, social network. Your cardiac rhythm may be very irregular. Your circulatory system can be poor.
Pisces on 8th: You face danger from water bodies like cancer on 8th. Additionally, you face danger from drug overuse, medicines, tablets and any addictive substances such as alcohol, tobacco etc.
Note: Don't freak out as 1 in 12 people will have a sign on their 8th house. Just take precautions.
For Readings DM. For Reports at discount DM
#astrology#astrology observations#zodiac#zodiac signs#astro community#astro observations#vedic astrology#astro notes#vedic astro notes#astrology community
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sorry I feel like venting in my tags
#I'm so angry#that doctor didn't help at all#I think I got my hopes up too much that this would help#I just want SOMETHING to help#because it's been a year and a half and things have only gotten worse#the doctor said to gain some weight and talk to a therapist#but I don't think me being skinny is related to this? it started after covid like that's pretty noteworthy imo#and while my mental health is shit like. it's shit BECAUSE I'm sick so#and the doctor also said to go to school more because staying home so much is making me depressed#and like yeah I get that staying home probably isn't helping#with my MENTAL health#but walking physically hurts a lot of the time#and school is just too hard a lot of the days#like… he basically said ''just try more''#fuck you man.#hhhhh that sucked that sucked that sucked#he told me to fix problems THAT ARE CAUSED BY THE ILLNESS I HAVE#WHATEVER ILLNESS THAT IS. HE WAS SUPPOSED TO HELP FIGURE OUT A DIAGNOSIS.#BITING AND KILLING#I'm so fucking tired. today sucked.
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Maybe i'm just paranoid because my half-sister recently died of diabetes in her 40s but on the other hand MY HALF-SISTER RECENTLY DIED OF DIABETES IN HER 40S I'M ALMOST 30 AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
#i mean there were a lot of other health problems to compound it#she had weight-related health issues and had just recently taken a shine to drinking#and didn't really follow doctor's orders after her diagnosis but still like fuck
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I feel like all fiddly-ass lifestyle adjustment type treatment regimens that are basically impossible to execute perfectly, and which a healthcare professional can therefore use to be like "Well, maybe if you were better at this, you wouldn't need other treatments, so you don't get other treatments until you can do it perfectly" should pretty much be presumed bullshit as like, actual treatment options for people having "go to a doctor about it" level problems. At best, if there's a pharmacotherapy available, it should be like "Let's start the medication and then try this lifestyle stuff which, if it's both effective and sustainable for you, might mean you don't need the medication indefinitely", rather than "spend months or years trying to implement extensive lifestyle modifications before you can try medication".
#I was thinking about sleep hygeine and graded exercise therapy when I started writing this#but obviously it goes double for anything related to weight#because diets don't work AND losing weight probably won't help the health problem anyway
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words we can’t take back | b. barnes
masterlist | pt.2
summary: after a mission gone wrong, bucky lashes out, leaving y/n hurt by his harsh words. now drowning in guilt, bucky must find a way to apologize before it’s too late, but y/n isn’t ready to forgive so easily. can he fix what’s been broken?
pairing: bucky barnes x reader
warnings: angst, emotional distress, heartbreak, toxic relationship dynamics, arguments, mention of mental health struggles, potential triggers related to emotional abuse, strong language, and feelings of inadequacy.
word count: 5.9k
The mission had been a disaster from the start. Tension crackled in the air, the kind that always seemed to precede trouble. Bucky Barnes felt it in his bones, a tightness that grew with every wrong turn. It had been a simple extraction, but when they walked into a trap, chaos erupted. The sounds of gunfire ricocheted around him, the explosions reverberating through his chest like a war drum, drowning out his thoughts. But when he glanced at you—his partner, his anchor—something twisted in his gut.
In the aftermath, the wreckage of what had gone wrong stretched before him. Bodies lay scattered, their lifeless forms stark against the smoky haze, and the acrid scent of burning metal stung his nostrils. You stood there, bruises marring your skin, and your eyes, once sharp and defiant, now dulled by exhaustion. Bucky had seen too much, been through too much, and the anger inside him simmered, ready to boil over. How could this have gone so wrong?
“What the hell were you thinking?” he snapped, his voice a harsh whip in the stillness. His jaw was clenched, and his glare could’ve burned holes into you. “You almost got yourself fucking killed, you know that?”
Your breath caught, heart sinking at the venom in his tone. “I was doing my job, Bucky. I thought you had my back.”
“Had your back?” He stepped closer, fists clenching at his sides, every muscle taut with pent-up fury. The adrenaline from the fight morphed into something more destructive. “You’re a goddamn liability! You keep throwing yourself into danger like you can’t be hurt. What the hell is wrong with you?”
The words hit you like a punch, each one a jagged edge cutting deeper than the last. You could feel the weight of his anger pressing down on you, suffocating. “I didn’t ask for a babysitter,” you shot back, bitterness lacing your voice. “Maybe I’m the one who should be questioning if you’re fit to be my partner!”
Bucky’s expression hardened, eyes narrowing like a predator’s. This isn’t just about the mission, he thought, grappling with the frustration of watching you walk into danger. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have to worry about saving your ass all the damn time. If I wanted to deal with this shit, I’d find someone who actually knew how to handle themselves. I’m sick of dragging you through every godforsaken fight!”
Every accusation felt like a dagger, twisting in the wound he had just opened. You could see the pain and anger simmering in his eyes, but it was all directed at you. “You think I wanted this? I’m not the one who fucked up in the field! I thought we were a team!”
His laugh was bitter, devoid of humor, echoing against the wreckage around you. “Team? That’s a joke. You don’t get to call it a team when I’m the one stuck cleaning up your shit. I’m done with it. You’re not my equal; you’re just a goddamn burden.”
The air grew thick with tension, and you fought back tears, the tremor in your hands betraying you. “Maybe I should just leave, then,” you said, voice trembling but defiant. “If I’m such a problem, why don’t you find someone who doesn’t drag you down?”
The silence that followed was deafening. You turned away, trying to keep your composure, but you could feel his gaze burning into your back—a mix of anger and something softer, more vulnerable, that he refused to acknowledge. His heart pounded as the realization hit him: I pushed her away when she needed me the most. What the hell was I thinking?
As you walked away, the weight of his words hung heavily in the air between you, suffocating. Each step felt like a fracture in your heart, the distance growing more unbearable with every inch. Bucky stood there, feeling the echoes of his harshness fill the void where your connection once thrived. The realization settled in, and he knew this wasn’t over. How the hell do I fix this?
But as the dust settled around him, all he could feel was emptiness, a tidal wave of regret crashing over him, leaving him alone in the aftermath of his own making.
Days blurred together into an indistinguishable mess. The tension between you and Bucky hung thick in the air, suffocating, wrapping around him like a vice grip. He paced the empty halls of the compound, the rhythmic echo of his boots against the cold metal floors mirrored the chaos in his mind. Each step felt heavier than the last, a relentless reminder of the moment that played on a loop in his head—the hurt in your eyes when his careless words had cut deep.
Memories flooded back: your laughter in the training room, the way you encouraged him during his darkest moments. He had crossed a line he never intended to, letting his anger spew out like poison, each word a dagger aimed straight at your heart. Guilt clawed at him, a beast gnawing at his insides, turning his stomach into knots. Every time he caught a glimpse of you, it felt like a punch to the gut, the weight of regret settling like a stone in his chest.
The silence of the compound was palpable, broken only by the distant hum of machinery. He’d find you in the training room, pouring every ounce of your energy into your workout, the fierce determination radiating off you like a fire. Your tear-streaked face haunted him, a ghost he couldn’t shake. You weren’t just a teammate; you were everything to him. The thought of losing you felt like ice water dousing his heart, leaving him gasping for air, desperate to rewind time.
“Hey, Buck,” Sam said one day, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, the faint scent of sweat and metal mingling in the air. “You good, or are you just gonna sulk like an old man all day?”
“Yeah, sure,” Bucky shot back, the lie tasting bitter on his tongue, his eyes averted. He could feel Sam’s scrutinizing gaze piercing through his façade.
“Seriously, man, you think I can't see through that? There’s a damn storm brewing in that head of yours,” Sam pressed, his tone a mix of concern and teasing familiarity. “You gotta talk to her. You can’t keep doing this to yourself. It’s like watching a damn dog chase its own tail—ain’t gonna end well, and I’m not about to sit here and watch you make a mess of it.”
Bucky nodded, but the weight of his guilt felt like chains wrapped tight around his heart, squeezing the air from his lungs. What the hell could he even say? The fear of facing you loomed larger than any mission he’d ever tackled—a monster lurking in the shadows, making him feel weak and exposed. He clenched his fists, jaw tightening, as he fought against the rising tide of anxiety.
Closing his eyes, he leaned against the wall, fighting the urge to scream. He remembered how you had stood by him, even when the nightmares clawed at him in the night. You deserved better than his careless words, better than the pain he had caused. The metallic scent of sweat mixed with the lingering aroma of stale coffee filled the air, reminding him of the countless nights spent together, talking and laughing. Those memories felt like a beacon, drawing him closer to the confrontation he dreaded yet craved.
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, pushing off the wall, each step toward you heavy with uncertainty. His heart raced as he imagined your reaction—would you forgive him? The thought of laying his broken heart bare to you, the one person who meant everything, filled him with dread and hope.
As he approached, the distance between you felt like a chasm. He was ready to confront the mess he’d made, but the fear of your disappointment loomed over him like a dark cloud. Sam watched him go, shaking his head with a faint smile, knowing his friend was finally stepping up to make things right.
It was time to face the music, to turn back the clock on the mistakes he had made. The symbol of his guilt—the small, worn-out dog tag you had given him before a particularly tough mission—burned in his pocket, a constant reminder of the bond he desperately wanted to restore.
In that moment, he knew he had to find the courage to bridge the gap between them, to reclaim what was lost before it slipped through his fingers forever.
After what felt like a damn eternity, Bucky finally gathered the guts to knock on your door. Each knock echoed in the silence, a stark reminder of the distance that had grown between you two. He stood there, heart pounding, fists clenched, feeling the weight of guilt that had settled in his chest like lead. Memories flooded his mind—your laughter during training sessions, quiet moments together in the compound, and the way your smile had once lit up even the darkest days. It all felt so far away now, a reminder of how easily he could lose it.
“Go away,” you called, your voice muffled but laced with hurt.
“Y/N,” he pleaded, desperation creeping into his tone. “I need to talk. Just… let me in, alright?” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his mind racing with all the things he wanted to say but couldn’t quite grasp.
Silence hung in the air like a noose, heavy and suffocating. Each second stretched into an eternity, amplifying the tension until, finally, the door creaked open just enough for him to catch a glimpse of your face—red and puffy from tears, eyes shadowed with pain. It felt like a punch to the gut.
“I don’t want to talk to you,” you said coldly, arms crossed defensively, trying to shield yourself from the storm he had caused.
“I know. I messed up,” he replied, his voice thick with regret. He ran a hand through his hair, struggling to find the right words. “And I can’t—” He faltered, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. “I can’t take back what I said. I was scared, and I lashed out. You mean too damn much to me for that. Just… let me explain.”
You stepped back, letting him in but hesitating, your anger and hurt crackling in the air like static electricity. Bucky could feel the tension radiating off you, could see how you trembled with barely contained rage. The faint hum of the compound’s machinery buzzed in the background, underscoring the silence between you.
“Bucky, you can’t just waltz in here and throw around apologies like they’re candy. It’s not that fucking simple,” you said, your voice shaking as emotions boiled over. “Do you even get what your words did to me? They cut deeper than you can imagine.”
The memories of your last argument flashed in his mind—how he had yelled, how his words had sliced through the fragile trust you had built. He could still hear your voice trembling, see the hurt in your eyes. It haunted him.
“I know it’s not,” he said, voice rising as frustration bubbled to the surface. “But you have to understand—I never meant to hurt you. I was scared as hell of losing you. I didn’t know how to deal with it, so I took it out on you. I thought I could keep you safe, but I fucking failed, and I can’t live with that.” He avoided your gaze, staring at the floor, ashamed of the turmoil he had caused.
You turned your gaze away, fury igniting. “You think being scared gives you the right to hurt me? Those words stick with you. They don’t just disappear because you suddenly want to make things right. You shattered something in me, Bucky, and you expect me to just let it go?” The air was thick with the weight of your words, each one a dagger aimed at his heart.
“I know,” he said, his voice cracking under the weight of his regret. “I’m not gonna pretend this doesn’t matter. I want to make things right. You’re not just some partner in this crazy shit; you’re everything to me. I’m so damn sorry, Y/N.”
A heavy silence fell between you, thick with unprocessed emotions. Tears glistened in your eyes, anger mixed with pain as you struggled to hold back the flood. Bucky could see your fingers trembling, as if you were fighting against the urge to reach out for him, to seek comfort from the very person who had hurt you.
“You’re sorry? That’s it? Do you think that’s enough? You can’t just toss around ‘I’m sorry’ and act like everything’s fine! Do you have any idea what it feels like to have the person you love turn on you like that?”
Bucky opened his mouth to respond, but the truth of your feelings hit him like a freight train. It shattered him, the realization crashing down harder than any blow he’d ever taken. “I didn’t mean to fuckin’ hurt you like that. I—”
“Didn’t mean to?” you snapped, frustration boiling over. “But you did! You meant every single word when you said I wasn’t enough! It’s like a poison, Bucky! Every time I look in the mirror, I see your words haunting me!”
“Y/N…” he pleaded, stepping closer, but you backed away, shaking your head fiercely. The space between you felt like an insurmountable chasm, filled with hurt and distrust.
“No! You don’t get to touch me. Not after what you said. I don’t want your pity. I want my trust back! I want to feel safe with you again, but how the hell can I when you’ve torn me apart like this?” The pain in your voice twisted like a knife in his gut.
“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he begged, desperation bleeding through his words. “I can give you space. I’ll listen—just don’t shut me out. I can’t lose you.” He reached out, almost instinctively, but stopped short, respecting your boundary. The small bracelet you used to wear, the one he had given you, lay forgotten on the table—its absence felt like a symbol of the trust now shattered between you.
“Maybe… maybe I need time,” you finally said, voice soft but resolute, tears spilling down your cheeks. “I can’t keep waiting for you to figure out how to treat me with the love and respect I deserve. I can’t be your punching bag.”
“Take all the time you need,” he replied, his heart sinking deeper. “I’ll be right here, waiting for you. Just… I hope you can find it in you to forgive me.” His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken fears of a future without you.
You nodded slowly, the weight of the moment hanging heavily between you. Bucky turned to leave, each step dragging him down like a lead weight. The distant sounds of the compound faded as he walked away, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He wanted to scream, to punch the walls, to erase the hurt, but he knew he had to be patient. You needed time, and he would wait, even if it felt like forever.
As he walked away, the door closing behind him, Bucky felt a hollow ache settle in his chest—a deep emptiness that screamed for your forgiveness, for your presence. But he also knew he deserved the pain, the anguish he had caused. The only thing that mattered now was making things right, even if it took an eternity.
Days turned into weeks, and Bucky kept his distance, lurking on the edges of your life like a goddamn ghost. He was always there, a shadow in the background, never truly present, waiting for the moment you’d find it in yourself to forgive him. It was a tormenting cycle for him, hanging around the periphery of your world, the weight of his own mistakes bearing down like an anchor. He often caught himself recalling the laughter you once shared, memories of late-night talks and quiet moments that now felt like a distant dream. Those memories twisted in his gut as he watched you from afar, stealing glances during training, his gaze lingering near the kitchen where you used to share coffee and laughter, searching for a connection that felt like it was slipping through his fingers. But every time he made a move, the pain in your eyes sent him retreating, a constant reminder of the hurt he’d caused and the love that now felt so fragile.
One evening, the hum of the common room enveloped you, filled with the clatter of dishes and faint laughter from the team, but all you could focus on was the ache in your heart. You were scrolling through your phone, desperately trying to distract yourself when Bucky appeared in the doorway, hesitant and guarded. Your heart clenched at the sight of him—a mix of longing and sorrow flooding you, drowning out the world around you.
“Hey,” he said, voice low and rough, as if he was still wrestling with the demons of his past.
“Hey,” you replied, your voice flat, a careful mask of strength concealing the turmoil inside. You wanted to scream, to let him know how much his presence hurt, but part of you still craved the warmth he brought.
“Can we talk?” His words hung in the air like a fragile lifeline, one you weren’t sure you could grab onto.
You nodded, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on you. “Make it quick,” you shot back, your tone sharper than intended, trying to keep the emotions at bay.
He stepped closer, eyes searching yours with a desperation that twisted your gut. “I need to say it again—for everything. I know it doesn’t mean much after the shit I pulled, but I swear I’m trying to fix this. I’m really working on myself.” As he spoke, he clenched his fists, fingers digging into his palms, a physical manifestation of the guilt that gnawed at him. “I just… I can’t keep running from this. I need you to know that.”
You let out a shaky breath, feeling the pressure of his words weighing down on you. “I’m trying to work through it, Bucky. But I can’t pretend everything’s fine just because you say you’re sorry.”
“I don’t expect you to,” he said, frustration cracking his calm facade. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, unable to meet your gaze. “But you need to understand how damn much you mean to me. I can’t lose you, Y/N. I won’t let that happen.”
Your heart ached at his confession, but anger flared within you. “You hurt me, Bucky. You can’t just wipe that away with a few nice words.”
“I know, I know! I’m fucking sorry, alright?” He ran a hand through his hair, pacing like a caged animal, the sound of his footsteps echoing off the walls. “I didn’t mean it. I was scared, and I lashed out. But you’ve gotta see how much I regret it, damn it!”
“Scared?” you spat, bitterness thick in your voice. “You don’t get to use your fear as an excuse for the pain you caused me!”
“Then what the hell do you want from me?” His voice rose, desperation lacing every word. “You’re acting like I’m a goddamn ghost! I’m right here, trying to fix this!”
“Because I need to protect myself!” you yelled back, tears spilling down your cheeks. “Every time I try to forgive you, you mess it up again! I can’t trust you when you keep hurting me!”
The silence that followed felt like a chasm between you, both of you breathing heavily, emotions spiraling out of control. Bucky’s shoulders sagged, the weight of your words crushing him. He thought of the little trinket you gave him once, a small metal star—a reminder of a bond that felt irreparably broken.
“I fucking hate this,” he admitted, his voice cracking, tears shimmering in his eyes. “I hate that I hurt you. I hate that no matter how hard I try, I can’t fix this. You mean everything to me, and it feels like I’m losing you more and more every damn day.” His gaze flickered to the floor, and for a moment, he was just a man haunted by his past, the soldier who had lost so much.
Your heart shattered at the sight of him, raw vulnerability spilling out. “You don’t get to say that after everything. You’ve made me feel worthless, like my feelings don’t matter. I can’t keep letting you walk all over me and expect everything to be okay.”
“I don’t want to fucking hurt you!” he cried, frustration and anguish battling within him. “I never asked for this! I just… sometimes I don’t know how to be better, okay?” He clenched his jaw, fighting against the tears that threatened to spill.
“Then you need to figure it out!” you screamed, your voice trembling with pain. “I can’t keep waiting for you to get it right while I’m left feeling broken!”
As your words hung in the air, the truth of your reality crashed over you both. The love you once shared felt suffocated by the shadows of anger and disappointment. You were both drowning in a sea of sorrow, hearts beating in sync but desperately out of tune.
Bucky stood there, shattered, eyes glistening with unshed tears, as you turned away, the battle within you raging. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unprocessed emotions, and for the first time, the thought of walking away felt more appealing than the pain of staying. But just as you took a step, a sliver of hope flickered in your chest—a feeling that perhaps this confrontation could lead to a path forward.
“Y/N…” he started, voice thick with heartbreak, but his words got lost in the chasm of hurt between you, leaving only a haunting silence in their wake. Yet somewhere deep within, the possibility of healing lingered, waiting for the courage to break through.
Weeks dragged on in the compound, each day feeling like a storm brewing just beneath the surface. The faint hum of machinery surrounded you, a constant reminder of the tension in the air. Despite Bucky’s promises to change, shadows of his past returned, casting a gloom that enveloped you both. Memories of laughter and shared moments felt like distant echoes now, buried under the weight of unspoken words and unresolved conflicts. You tiptoed around him, hyper-aware that every little thing could set off alarms in your mind.
The moment of impact came like a bullet, unexpected and cruel. During a mission briefing, Bucky’s voice cut through the air like glass shattering.
“Why the hell can’t you just focus?” he snapped, eyes ablaze with fury that had nothing to do with you, yet somehow landed squarely on your chest. The air felt heavy, thick with the scent of sweat and metal, making it hard to breathe. “You’re not some damn rookie! You should know better than this by now!”
“Bucky, I—”
“Just shut the hell up!” he roared, the words echoing off the walls, raw and menacing. His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles whitening as he struggled to contain the storm inside. “You’re making this way harder than it needs to be!”
Each word felt like a blow, carving deeper into your heart. This wasn’t a new dance; it was an exhausting routine, and the suffocating weight of your shared history felt more unbearable than ever. You remembered the moments when he had opened up, how he had let you in, but they felt like faint memories now. “Maybe you should take a good, hard look in the mirror,” you shot back, your voice shaky with a mix of hurt and anger. “I’m not the one with the issue here.”
He glared at you, frustration boiling over, muscles tense, jaw clenched tight. You could see the flicker of his inner turmoil, the fear of losing you clawing at his composure. “You keep pulling this shit! It’s like you can’t see past your own damn feelings! Just focus on the mission for once!”
Your chest tightened, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “I’m not your damn punching bag, Bucky,” you said, voice breaking under the weight of raw emotion. “You can’t keep exploding at me and expect me to take it like it’s nothing. I’m sick of this!”
“Maybe if you actually gave a damn about the mission instead of whining about your feelings, we wouldn’t be in this mess!” His words cut deeper than you thought possible, and you recoiled as if slapped. You remembered the way he used to care, how he used to fight for every person he loved, and it stung even more to see him like this.
“I care, Bucky!” you cried, tears spilling over as you fought to hold it together. “But it’s hard to keep my head in the game when I’m constantly worried about when you’ll blow up at me next! You say you’re trying, but nothing changes! It feels like I don’t even matter to you anymore!”
For a moment, his expression shifted, a flicker of regret flashing across his face, but the damage was done. “You think this is easy for me?” he shouted, voice raw and desperate, filled with unfiltered anguish. “I’m trying to be better, but you keep dragging me back into this shit!” You could see the pain behind his bravado, the memories of his past haunting him, and it broke your heart.
“Don’t act like I’m the fucking problem!” you yelled, heart racing as reality crashed down around you. “I’m not the one who can’t confront his demons! You push me away and then blame me for not being there when you do!”
Pain flickered in Bucky’s eyes, the cracks in his stoic facade deepening. “You’re right,” he admitted, voice shaking, the weight of his confession crushing him. “I don’t know how to deal with this… how to deal with you. I’m scared shitless of losing you, and honestly, I don’t know if I can fix it.” The vulnerability in his voice was a fragile thread, hanging in the air, and you felt a flicker of hope amidst the chaos.
“Then maybe you need to sort your shit out,” you replied, heart breaking as you watched his despair unfold. “I can’t keep waiting for you to figure it out while I’m left feeling shattered.” You recalled the shared moments, the promises made, and the weight of them felt unbearable now.
Silence fell, thick with the unsaid and unresolved. You were both drowning in a sea of sorrow, love suffocating under the weight of his rage and your hurt. Bucky’s shoulders sagged as he stepped back, the chasm between you widening, feeling more insurmountable than ever.
“I can’t keep doing this,” you whispered, tears streaming down your face, anguish spilling over. “It’s killing me.” The vulnerability hung heavy between you, and for a fleeting moment, you saw a glimmer of understanding in his eyes.
His breath hitched, and he looked like he might reach for you, but the distance remained unbridgeable, a stark reminder of everything that felt lost. Yet, beneath it all, a small part of you held onto the hope that one day, you could navigate the darkness together.
The clash felt inevitable, like a storm building for days, ready to break over the fragile space between you and Bucky. The tension in the air was suffocating, each breath heavy with unspoken anger and hurt. You stood in the middle of the training room, fists clenched, trying to hold yourself together. Across from you, Bucky stood rigid, muscles taut, his hands balled into fists. The weights he had been using moments earlier now lay forgotten on the floor, a sharp reminder of the growing chasm between you.
The silence was unbearable. Then, without warning, Bucky's voice cut through the room like a blade. “Can you just—stop fucking around? You think this is a game?” His voice cracked, but his anger was palpable, radiating from him in waves as he hurled the weights down with a force that rattled through the room, the echo reverberating like a punch to the gut.
You flinched at the sound, the weight of his words hitting you just as hard. “Maybe if you’d stop yelling for one second, you’d see I’m trying!” Your voice shook, barely holding steady under the pressure. You were trembling, the knot of frustration and hurt in your chest threatening to unravel completely.
Bucky’s eyes darkened. “Damn it, you’re not trying hard enough!” he snapped, his fists tightening at his sides, knuckles white. His voice—usually so steady—was strained now, as though he was fighting to keep control. The anger in his tone felt like a punch, but you could see the tremble in his hands, the way his jaw clenched so tight you thought it might crack.
The sting of his words twisted in your chest. You could feel the pressure building in your throat, choking you with the weight of unspoken feelings. “I’m trying, Bucky. But it’s never enough for you, is it?” you said, the words tasting bitter in your mouth, laced with all the exhaustion you’d tried to suppress.
His face contorted in anger, but for a brief second, you saw something deeper flicker in his eyes—something haunted. You recognized that look. It was the same one he wore when he woke up from nightmares, drenched in sweat, guilt seeping from every pore. But it vanished just as quickly as it appeared, swallowed by his fury. “Get your shit together,” he snapped, voice low and intense. “I’m not your babysitter. You really think I can hold your hand through every goddamn thing?” His voice wavered, but he squared his shoulders, hiding the vulnerability underneath. “You want to survive? Toughen the hell up or get out of my way.”
“Then maybe you should just go!” The words burst out before you could stop them, raw and jagged, cutting through the tension. You hated how sharp your voice sounded, like a part of you was shattering with every syllable.
For a split second, his expression faltered—just long enough for you to see the crack in his defenses, the fear creeping in behind the anger. But the moment passed, and his face hardened once more, the distance between you widening.
“Enough is enough, Bucky.” Your voice trembled as you blinked back the tears threatening to spill over. “I can’t keep doing this. I’m tired of forgiving you just so you can hurt me again.” Each word felt like a physical wound, reopening scars you thought had healed.
Bucky’s hands dropped to his sides, but his fists remained clenched. “You’re being dramatic,” he muttered, turning his gaze away as though refusing to face the weight of your words. “I'm pushing you because you damn well need to be better. I can't afford to lose you.”
There it was. The fear he refused to name. He was terrified of losing you, but he couldn’t say it. Not out loud. So instead, he buried it under anger, under demands that pushed you further away.
“You twist everything, Bucky,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve tried to be there for you, to understand you—but I can’t keep pretending that this is okay. I can’t be the person you take everything out on.”
His jaw tightened, but his hands trembled at his sides. “You don’t get it,” he said, voice quieter now, almost broken. “I’m trying to protect you. I just… I don’t know how to do this without pushing people away. I’m not good at this shit.”
“And what do you think you’re doing right now?” you asked, your heart aching. “You’re pushing me away, and I’m too tired to hold on.”
The silence that followed was deafening, thick with the weight of unsaid things. Bucky’s breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. The echo of the weights hitting the ground earlier still rang in your ears, a haunting reminder of how quickly things had spiraled.
You took a deep breath, feeling the chill of the room settle into your bones, as if the air itself was colder now, heavier. “I feel invisible, Bucky,” you whispered, your voice cracking with the weight of your confession. “Like I’m just a shadow, someone to absorb your anger when things get too hard. I can’t live like this anymore.”
Bucky’s eyes widened for a moment, and his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for you but couldn’t. His lips parted, but no words came. His shoulders slumped slightly, a tiny surrender in the face of your pain.
He opened his mouth, his voice hoarse and desperate now. “Y/N, don’t do this,” His voice cracked, but his body was still tense, like he was holding something back—something he couldn’t quite bring himself to admit. “You don’t need to make this harder than it already is.”
“I don’t want to walk away, Bucky. But I have to, for my own sanity,” you said, stepping back as if putting physical distance between you would somehow make it easier.
He reached out, his hand hovering in the air between you, unsure. “Damn it,” he rasped. “I’m trying, okay? I need you to believe me.”
“It’s too late for that,” you whispered, your heart breaking at the sight of him so vulnerable, so raw. His hand dropped, and the space between you felt like a canyon now, too wide to cross.
Bucky’s breath hitched, his gaze dropping to the floor as though he couldn’t bear to look at you anymore. He clenched his fists again, nails biting into his palms. The weight of his guilt was suffocating, and you could see it in the way his shoulders sagged, the way his eyes dimmed with the realization that he had pushed you too far.
The room felt too quiet, the air thick with the aftermath of your words. You could feel the memory of every touch, every smile, every moment of laughter between you two slipping away like sand through your fingers. There was a photo—one he had kept tucked away in his jacket—of the two of you on a day when everything had felt perfect. He had carried it with him, a reminder of what he was trying to protect. But now, it felt like just another symbol of something irreparable.
“I loved you,” you whispered, stepping back one final time, tears blurring your vision as you turned toward the door. “But I deserve better.”
“Y/N!” His voice broke, desperate, as he took a step toward you, hand outstretched. His body was trembling now, fear etched into every line of his face. “Don’t fucking walk away from me! I can change. I swear, I can be better for you!”
You hesitated, your back to him, feeling the weight of his plea. For a moment, you almost turned back. Almost. But the words he had said still hung heavy in the air between you. And you knew—deep down—that you couldn’t survive this cycle anymore.
As you walked away, the echo of his voice followed you, the pain lacing each syllable a reminder of what could have been. But you didn’t stop. The silence after you left was deafening, and it swallowed Bucky whole, leaving him alone with his regrets, the weight of his own mistakes pressing down on him like a physical force.
He watched the door close behind you, his heart sinking with the realization that he had lost you. And for the first time, he didn’t know how to fix it.
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes angst#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#the winter soldier#marvel#buckybarnes#bucky barnes one shot#bucky barnes drabble#bucky edit#bucky rp#bucky imagine#bucky oneshot#bucky angst#bucky au#bucky smut#bucky fanfic#bucky fic#bucky fluff#bucky fucking barnes#bucky headcanon#bucky x reader#bucky x you#bucky x y/n#bucky x female reader#bucky x oc#bucky x female yn
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The 6th House and Bad Fortunes
In Hellenistic astrology the 6th house is referred to the “place of bad fortune”, connected to disease and decline in vitality. Here it’s more associated with hardships and illness than daily routines and activities. This is due to it being twelve houses away from the 7th house, which would mean imprisonment to significant commitments, like our health and vitality.
It represents the challenges that arise when our creative and romantic aspirations meet reality. By addressing the issues related to health, routines, and service we can transform the challenges here into opportunities.
Aries Rising
- tedious jobs that demand grinding
- may clean up after others or work beneath your skill level
- burnout because of perfectionism
- overworking with little recognition
- hypochondria; frequent doctor’s visits or checkups
- nitpicky with coworkers
Remedies: balanced diet; prioritize and delegate tasks; activities that promote self-improvement; face issues head-on; eliminate distractions; learn to say no
Taurus Rising
- passive-aggressive co-workers
- people-pleasing overload
- headaches or skin problems
- jobs that lack beauty or creativity
- indecisive career path
- superficial relationship with colleagues
Remedies: make workplace aesthetically pleasing; distinguish supportive relationships from toxic ones; take proactive steps to manage burnout; stay physically active
Gemini Rising
- jobs full of manipulation, power struggles, or drama
- unhealthy or overwhelming intensity at work
- anxiety, digestive issues, or fatigue
- strong desire for control over work environment and tasks clash
- help others with hidden agendas
Remedies: stop avoiding hard tasks; let go of grudges; find a life outside of work; channel rage into work; get regular check ups
Cancer Rising
- dissatisfaction in routines
- overcommitting to responsibilities
- lack of exercise, weight issues, digestive problems
- conflict with traditions or authority
- too much optimism
Remedies: learn to focus on tasks; be wary of escapism; be honest about what you can handle; establish flexible routines
Leo Rising
- rigid rules or strict hierarchies in workplace
- relentless pursuit for success
- issues with bones, joints, or skin
- missing opportunities for joy
- feelings of isolation and loneliness
Remedies: drop guilt about labor and delegate tasks; don’t take work too seriously; reassess goals if feeling stagnant or underappreciated
Virgo Rising
- jobs that feel misaligned with values or ideals
- alienation at work
- inconsistent health practices; issues with circulation, nervous system, or sudden changes in well-being
- rebel against routine tasks or authority figures
- difficulties with structure or traditional methods
Remedies: make decisions instead of overthinking; engage more with colleagues; address and change when there’s discomfort; stop idealizing job or coworkers; embrace structure
Libra Rising
- neglect important tasks and responsibilities
- elusive health issues; frustration when seeking health solutions; often feel tired without clear reason
- sensitivity leads to overwhelming emotional labor
- lack of structure in workplace
- romanticizing hardships, sacrifices, or struggles
Remedies: stop dreaming and start doing; get real about health issues; don’t overindulge in pleasures; don’t let feelings dictate work ethic; confront conversations and conflicts head-on
Scorpio Rising
- rush into tasks without proper planning
- take on too much workload at once
- headaches, high blood pressure, or injuries over overexertion
- struggles with monotonous tasks
- inconsistent motivations
Remedies: think before you speak to not burn bridges; learn to collaborate; own your mistakes; get organized
Sagittarius Rising
- stuck in unfulfilling jobs that lack progress
- overindulge in comforts; overeating or neglecting physical activity
- resistance to new opportunities and changes at work
- jobs that offer little financial security
- neglecting mental health
Remedies: don’t cling to routines or methods; avoid complacency; don’t overindulge in comfort foods or luxuries; don’t expect people to read your mind
Capricorn Rising
- erratic work performance
- overwhelmed by too many projects
- headaches, digestive issues, or anxiety
- resist structured routines
- prioritize mental stimulation over exercise or proper nutrition
Remedies: don’t take on too many tasks at once; confront workplace drama; avoid procrastination; make time for resting well; think before you speak to avoid misunderstandings
Aquarius Rising
- difficulty separating feelings from workplace
- fluctuating health issues, like digestive problems or issues linked to their emotional state
- prioritizing helping others over their own needs
- home dynamics effect work
- lack of professional boundaries
Remedies: don’t play victim; set emotional boundaries at work; don’t beat around the bush; avoid overindulgence; be realistic about your limitations
Pisces Rising
- snuggle with recognition at work
- desires for leadership clash with authority
- neglect health for status and appearance
- difficulties maintaining routine
- dramatic responses to setbacks, like unnecessary stress
Remedies: quit trying to be the center of attention at work; limit drama and theatrics; don’t let your pride blind from constructive criticism; be a team player; avoid overcommitting because of your passion;
#astrology#astrology observations#sidereal astrology#traditional astrology#hellenistic astrology#6th house#aries rising#taurus rising#gemini rising#cancer rising#leo rising#virgo rising#libra rising#scorpio rising#sagittarius rising#capricorn rising#aquarius rising#pisces rising
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Hope this doesn't come off as too rude, but why are you making Jessie gain a lot of weight?
Sometimes it's health-related and it can't be helped but in this case, you're making her 'fatter' for what reason? Weight gain is a HUGE problem for thousands of people, and so is weight loss.
Sure, getting a little bigger is fine. Since Jessie is very skinny in the show, but not to the 'obese' point. It's sad to see her go from having a healthy body image to an unhealthy one
(I'm overweight myself. I'm not skinny at all. And I know for some it's probably nice seeing large women rep. But in this case, seeing a character go through what I went through and now I'm struggling with it and it causes a lot of strain on my mental health because of the weight I've gained... yeah...)
Everyone is different! It’s important to acknowledge that while losing weight may be healthier for SOME people, gaining weight may be healthier for others.
In Jessie’s case, she’s lived through poverty, literally eating snow, then even after getting a job at Team Rocket, she was still frequently on the brink of starvation. I would not jump to say her body was necessarily “healthy” given this context and I think it can be dangerous to do so. Healthy looks different on everyone! Her gaining weight is a sign of finally being comfortable and having the means to live happily.
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