The really insidious part of fatphobia, especially in medical settings, is that any and all weight loss is seen as a good thing when you're fat
For example. Today I noticed that I must've lost quite a bit of weight (a jacket I could barely zip up a few months ago now fits with room to spare), and I have no clue why. I eat. Eat a lot, actually, and a lot of snacks and sweets. I don't work out much, not nearly enough to explain anything
But if I were to go to a doctor, I'm 99% sure they'd just tell me it's good I'm losing weight and dismiss me
Unintentional weight loss is a symptom of a lot of conditions, but fat people regularly get dismissed
By the way, this is where the persistent myth of "being fat leads to health problems" comes from. Because it's true, but not in the way people are taught
Being fat leads to health issues, because the health issues of fat people get dismissed and ignored until it's too late
Reposting this simply to save it since it’s so adorable and I love it 😻
It was an average Monday morning when you, Nanami Kento's wife, were turned into a cat.
"An unusual Curse," Shoko had said, "not longer than a week, surely--"
"Not--not longer than a week?!" Kento spluttered, his glasses lopsided, and, dangled in front of him beneath the arms (legs-- legs, he reminded himself)...you.
You, with two pointed ears, a long whippy tail, your many toe-beans and a perturbed little head-tilt. On the doctors' office couch, a neatly folded (if a little furry) pile of your clothes.
"Meow," you had said.
"Don't 'meow' me," Kento spluttered again, fixing you with a stern look that barely overlaid his concern. You simply stared up at him, long, and feline, and unblinking...and reached out one little paw, pressing it onto the end of his nose.
Kento sighed; a bone-deep, weary sigh. Shoko put out her cigarette, speaking through a haze of smoke.
"Like I said. Give it a week, and Mrs.Nyanyami will be back to nor--"
"What did you just call her?'
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Mrs.Nyanyami, the cat formerly known as Nanami Kento's wife, wanted for nothing.
"I think that tuna's more expensive than anything I've ever eaten," whispered Yuuji to Gojo. On the other side of the conference room, you sat upon the desk before Kento, waiting patiently for the next lump of tuna (meticulously cut into cat-appropriate cubes) to be delivered in his chopsticks.
As Kento's hand approached, you held it close with paw and claws, to steal the pink fish from him. He looked like a surgeon performing heart surgery.
"I just...dont know how he can look so serious while he's doing that," Gojo whispered back, to Yuuji's frantic nods. Still, they watched this freakish nature documentary with quiet obsession.
A higher-up sat down beside Kento, waiting for the meeting to begin. Jolting back, and grumbling, he did a double take.
"Young man-- you can't bring a cat to a Sorcerer's meeting--"
"That's not a cat," Kento snapped, frosty, "that's my wife."
And so began the rumour amongst the higher-ups, that Nanami Kento had gone mad.
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"You should leave her at home--"
"--absolutely not--"
"--really, Nanami...just put the television on, she'll be fine--"
"--unequivocally, no--"
"--why not?!"
Silence. An awkward shuffle on Kento's thick chest. You peeked your head out of the pocket of the cat-carrying hoodie that Kento wore over his shirt and tie, and turned to Gojo with narrowed eyes.
"Meow," you had said, batting at Kento's strings, and hooking his tie out with your paw, to kick it to death with your legs.
"I agree," said Kento, whispering and scratching you beneath the chin until you purred, "he's wrong, isn't he? Stupid Gojo. You'd get lonely. You'd get bored. Yes you would..."
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"Oh my god...he's gorgeous...you should get his number--"
"--I'm not brave enough...you go. I'll get our coffees."
"--okay, okay..." The woman cleared her throat, sweeping her hair behind one ear with her best smile. Kento looked up from his coffee, with one finely raised eyebrow.
"Can I help you?" He lied, unwilling to help anyone at all before he'd finished his croissant.
"Hi, yeah, I just...can't help but notice you're sitting alone, and my friend-- well she-- she just wondered if she can have your number, and--"
The woman broke off into shrieks. Climbing up her leg, all claws and furry vengeance, was you. She shook her leg, shrieking. You hissed. Your cup of steamed milk clattered over the table, slopping everywhere.
"--o-oh my god-- oh my god, what the hell is this cat doi--"
"I'm sorry," Kento sighed, not sorry at all and dabbing his mouth with a napkin and doing absolutely nothing to help, "it's my cat. She doesn't like company--"
Hisses. Claws. Dirty feral yowls.
"Get this fucking thing off me--"
"I can't take you anywhere. No more steamed milk for you."
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At times, you seemed so human. At others, undeniably cat.
Kento would wake to clattering from the kitchen, bleary and feeling around for you, only to remember, and trace his hand up to the furry, round little patch you'd leave behind on your pillow. He allowed himself just a moment of misery, before getting up.
He followed the sounds of cups and kettle and coffee machine, and leaned against the doorway with sleep-mussed hair and a squinting, teenagerish glare.
You were up on the counter, all four paws and determination. You had gotten as far as switching the kettle and coffee machine on, and heaving the cupboard open with your tiny limbs. Kento watched as you tipped your head sideways, managing to drag two mugs out in your teeth. He winced as they almost smashed upon the counter.
"Come on," Kento rumbled, his voice rusty with sleep, "let me do that."
You meowed at him, batting at the air with one angry paw when he stepped closer. Kento huffed, raising his hands in surrender.
"Fine," he tutted, "but I'll pour the water."
"Meow."
"Why? Because you don't have opposable thumbs, darling."
The fur stood up along your spine. You turned around, and around, in a circle, then sat upright. You turned your back on him while you waited for the kettle to boil. Your tail flicked from side to side, irritable. Kento waited, too, reaching out one hand to stroke your ears.
You nudged your back paw out, and pushed his mug off the side to smash on the floor.
Silence.
"...what is wrong with y--"
"Meow."
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Skitterskitterskitter.
Distant meows.
Kento groaned, rubbing down his face. He checked the clock, frog-blinking; two in the morning. He groaned harder.
Skitterskitterskitter.
Thunk.
More distant meows.
"Please just come back to bed," Kento moaned into the hands pressed over his face.
SkitterskitterskitterSKITTERSKITTER-- rustlllleerussstle--
Directly over his face.
"Meow--"
"I am begging you--"
RustlerustleTHNKskitterskitterskitter.
Distant meows.
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"I miss you."
You raised your head to look at him. Your purring hitched. Your ears tilted.
Kento had murmured, his low voice barely audible. The only light in the living room was the ever-changing light of the television screen. Laid on his back on the sofa, with you curled on his chest, Kento stroked down your back with longing.
You crept up his chest, pressing your cold wet nose to his, and purred. Nose to nose, and cross-eyed, Kento could have cried.
"I really miss you," he repeated, swallowing around the lump in his throat. Your claws dug into his chest, just a little. You rub, rub, rubbed your warm furry head along his jaw until he sniffled, and gave a choked little chuckle.
He fell asleep with you on his chest that night. In so many ways, it was familiar; home. In so many others, you were gone forever.
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"Meow."
Kento shuffled. His chest felt heavy...warm. His belly felt warm, too. And his lap, and--
Kento's eyes shot open, his head lifting up from the couch.
You bit your lip, naked on top of him, and smiling. Human. An angel.
"Oh, my love," Kento moaned, crushing you to him in a bear hug from shoulder to toes, "you're back-- I missed you, I was so worrie--"
You batted an arm out, swiping last night's wine glass from the coffee table beside you, to shatter on the floor.
Silence. Kento blinked slowly, looking from the wine glass, to you. You felt your cheeks grow hot, swallowing hard.
"God, I...sorry, Kento. Force-- force of habit--"
mom said it’s my turn to be ached for, to have someone feel a stab of hunger for me, to feel nourishment at the sight of me. give it now
site that you can type in the definition of a word and get the word
site for when you can only remember part of a word/its definition
site that gives you words that rhyme with a word
site that gives you synonyms and antonyms
RIGHT? Like my fav trope is monsters who have been considered freaks by the people in their lives but now they get to be loved by me. Maybe I have a savior complex, maybe I just want to show them they aren’t freakish. Either way I want to cuddle a monster that I’m in love with.
My feelings about monsters is more than just sex. Loving them is just as important, if not more because if I don't love them then how can I love myself? To look past the nightmare and see the beauty that lies beneath. All I want to do is make them feel as loved as I do, even if they might not exist
anyways fuck everyone who
didn't vote even though they were able
didn't vote because "my vote doesn't matter"
voted third party
convinced other people of any of the above
My prophecy is that Becky and Damian will bond over being tired of Anya's bs
Felt like other siblings could resonate with this card and it’s stupidity.
I don’t express affection very outwardly and my sister does and my parent love her for it. Kinda hurt NGL🙃
She/Her or They/Them. I love animals and writing and music. Humans annoy me, but I care about the ones I do like a little too much. 18.
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