#EATING DISORDERS ARE BAD AND YOU SHOULD CHECK ON THEM

[rainbowgod666]

TLDR because i sense the Vegan Teacher Coca-inhalers not getting the point

Meat and vegetables are more different than you think they are. Plant proteins are not meat proteins. Fitoestrogens dont make you a girl. And also do me a favour and let my "i could eat a fucking cow if i had a better metabolism" ass alone cause falafel is really good for you.

You want a burger? Ok fine. But dont market a plant burger as "the replacement" you puritan penises.

As an omnivore who likes vegan and vegetarian cooking I think the mistake a lot of people make when trying to convince meat eaters to go plant based is trying to convince them that something you’ve got will replace meat for them.

I like vegan nuggets and real chicken nuggets for different reasons. They taste different. They only taste identical to you because you haven’t eaten meat for five years.

When cooking for myself I only eat meat maybe like three times a week because vegetarian cooking is often cheaper and it tastes good.

Like just give people the actual recipes you use that aren’t pasta. Every time you ask what to eat on a meatless day people are like. Pasta. I don’t want pasta every day.

Point out the foods people already eat that are vegetarian. Like sweet potato fries, veggie chow mein, grilled mushrooms, mashed potatoes, black bean enchiladas, peanut butter sandwiches. Tell people what you microwave when you’re drunk at 3am. Show people that vegetables are so good they’ll want them in their diet.

Also some people are just never gonna go vegan. They’re just not. I’m certainly not, and I love vegan food. But since I’ve fallen in love with vegetarian cooking I eat meat much less and I’m much more careful about picking the meat I do eat. Doesn’t that align with a lot of your goals?

Impossible burger doesn’t taste like meat. But you know what tastes really good? A mushroom fajita taco. Falafel. Potato pancakes with applesauce. Smoky vegan collared greens. Hot potato salad with herbs. Palak paneer with rice. Tofu Pad Thai with extra peanuts. Some of my favorite foods of all time, and I’m a dirty rotten meat eater. Use THAT to get your foot in the door. And be more accepting of some half-assed victories. I’m on your side for the most part, believe it or not. But stop trying to claim certain things are just like meat. You and I both know you don’t plan most of your weeknight dinners around meat substitutes.

[girlgenius1111]

you can face this

barça x reader

r struggles with an eating disorder. her teammates catch on.

this [obviously] contains descriptions of an eating disorder. do not read if this could be triggering to you. please, just don't.

-----

You hadn't really realized that it had gotten bad again. It was one of those things that crept on you, unconscious bad habits making a return until you had fully relapsed. It was 0-100, and it was even more complicated now that you played for Barça. Not just because of the overbearing teammates, but also because your fitness was strictly kept track of- you had to remain at a weight that wouldn't flag with the physios, or affect your strength too much. But another part of you still hated that number on the scale- it was a constant battle between those two parts of you. The rational side, trying to keep it together, and the not so rational side that didn't care what it destroyed on it's quest to be smaller.

You kept up a surprisingly strong façade. It was easier when the team wasn't traveling, and obviously more complicated when you were. You lived alone in Barcelona, in a perfect little apartment, rather close by to the homes of your teammates, namely Alexia. She liked the younger players to live nearby, so she could keep an eye on everyone, she said.

Your teammates could tell you were having a hard time; it was obvious by the way they worked harder to get a laugh out of you, how they'd show up to hangout of the blue, just because they were in the neighborhood. None of them had approached you about what was bothering you yet, and you assumed they didn't have any idea what was really going on. There were clues, though, ones you weren't aware of, that they were most certainly picking up on.

The first clues weren't much; the way you'd pick at your food whenever you ate with the team. For your part, you did well to hide the fact that every bite was painful to choke down. Still, there was just something slightly off.

It was the quieter members of the team that noticed other things, but they didn't bring them up to anyone else, not yet. Not when it was just you changing rather quickly in the locker room, or how you often showed up at team dinners claiming to have already eaten.

-----

The first person to really notice that something wasn't just a little off, that something was wrong, was Pina. The two of you had finally convinced Alexia to allow you to room together; previously, she'd said no, arguing that you two would inevitably get up to trouble left to your own devices. You'd worn Alexia out, though, and both you and Pina were practically giddy when she'd flashed you with a warning look and read off your names together.

You'd managed to put it out of your head, how much of a hard time you were having. Until dinner that night. It was a rough day, rougher than you were used to, and while you normally could pretend pretty well in front of the team, you didn't feel like that was possible this particular evening. You'd gone to dinner, eaten as much as you could bare, before you mumbled something to the table about having a headache, and slipping back off to your room.

You were overwhelmed, really, and feeling incredibly alone. Something deep inside of you ached, and you wanted it to stop, leave you alone, just for one night. You were so frustrated, and pathetically, so sad. You thought you would have more time before Pina came back to the room, so you gave yourself the grace to breakdown, just a little. You could shower, wash away all traces of the tears, and be back to normal by the time your roommate returned.

What you somehow forgot, however, was that Pina was, while silly and mischievous, also one of the kindest people you'd ever met. You should have known that she'd come check on you, but you were slightly preoccupied with trying to keep a handle on your breakdown.

You didn't hear the click of the key card just before the door opened, and you were caught completely off guard when Claudia stepped inside, her face scrunching with worry as she caught sight of you curled up in the cozy chair in the corner of the room, sobbing quietly into your hands.

"Amiga! What is it?" She asked, rushing over to you. "Is it your headache? Should I get a physio?"

"No, I'm fine, Pina," you replied, wiping furiously at the tears that were still insisting on spilling from your eyes.

"Why are you crying if you're fine?" Pina asked in a quieter voice, on of her hands coming to rest on your knee.

“Claudia, seriously, I’m fine.” You insisted. You looked at her, then, and you looked so devastated, Pina knew instantly that you were lying. She felt so out of her league, so unsure what to do.

“Stay here.” She said after a minute, practically sprinting out of the room.

You knew she’d come back with someone, whoever she could find to fix you. This was the a job for an older player, not her. She gave good hugs, and could always make you laugh, but you needed someone older, someone wiser.

You sighed, knowing there was nothing you could do to stop her. You could only wait, and try to calm down.

You'd stopped crying, you really had, by the time Pina returned with Mapi in tow. You were prepared to act as though your friend was being dramatic, and really, you were fine, but then Mapi walked in, looking like she'd run the whole way to your room to check on you. The serious look on her face was such a departure from how she normally acted, that you were rather thrown off. She caught sight of you sitting on the bed, your red face, the slight downturn of your lips. What really got you was the way she didn't even say anything; she simply walked closer and opened her arms.

You were moving before you could even think to remain where you were, falling easily into the older girl's arms. They wrapped tight around you, and you buried your face in her shoulder. Tears ran off your face, collecting on Mapi's sweatshirt, but she held tight to you, one arm around your back, another holding your head close against her.

"It's alright, chica, we've got you." She murmured. You allowed yourself to sink into the comfort. For a moment, pretending that you weren't keeping so much inside, hidden away from the people that cared about you. You pretended that Mapi knew what was going on, and she was holding tight to you as reassurance, an unspoken promise that you'd be alright.

She didn't know what was wrong, though, and you weren't sure you'd be alright, not really. The little bubble of comfort and safety was broken when the defender pulled back, hands on your shoulders as she looked searchingly at you.

"What happened?" She asked. Her grip on you was tight, and you knew she wouldn't let go until you answered her. Pina was visible, just over Mapi’s shoulder, fidgeting with her hands and looking on nervously. Your only possible course of action was to lie, and to lie well.

"I don't know, I think I'm about to get my period or something," you lied. "I was just kind of sad, but it's fine, I'm fine now."

Mapi didn't look convince, nor did Pina.

"Are you sure? If something is bothering me, you can tell me. Or I can get Alexia if you want," Mapi suggested, beginning to turn toward the door.

That, you absolutely could not let happen. Alexia would get the truth out of you in seconds, especially when you were already so upset.

"No, seriously Mapi, I'm fine. Don't bother Alexia." You insisted, catching her arm and spinning her back around.

She eyed you for a minute, completely straight faced, before holding out her pinky to you. "Promise you are okay?" She asked.

You rolled your eyes, but linked your pinky with hers. "I promise."

She seemed satisfied after that, and you felt guilty about lying. It was for the best, though. You didn't need to worry your teammates, not when you were fine. Not when you had everything under control. Obviously, your motivation to lie went much deeper than that; the fear that they'd make you stop was suffocating.

-----

You shouldn't have felt guilty for lying, because Mapi went right to Alexia anyway. The Catalan Captain miraculously had her own room, for the 4th trip that year, although no one felt brave enough to comment on it. She opened the door warily, thinking Mapi was knocking just to chat, which she got enough of during the daytime hours.

"María, I'm really tired," Alexia started, glancing longingly back at her bed, where a nighttime call with her girlfriend and a cozy blanket awaited her.

"It's about y/n. I think something's wrong."

As Mapi had predicted, she didn't need to say more before Alexia was, now wide awake, stepping to the side, motioning for the defender to walk in.

"What is it?" She demanded once the door was shut behind her.

"Pina came to get me, and she said y/n was really upset about something, but she was pretending she was fine. I went back to their room and she had stopped crying, but as soon as I gave her a hug, she started crying again. And then once she'd stopped crying, she tried to tell me she was fine, something about getting her period and being sad for no reason. She pinky promised, but she was lying, Ale, I could tell. She looked so upset, like she was barely holding it together." Mapi's worry was evident in her tone, and, like you, Alexia noted the seriousness that was present on her friend's face. It wasn't normal, and it meant that, likely, there really was something to be worried about.

"Do you have any idea what she could be upset about?"

"No, not really. She's been a little off, I guess, but I can't think of what could be wrong."

Alexia sighed, silently agreeing with Mapi that you had been acting weird, but also that she couldn't think of a reason for it.

"I'll keep an eye on her, and I'll tell a couple of the others to as well. If something else happens, we can talk to her again." Alexia decided, somewhat uneasily. She wanted to figure out what was wrong, and fix it now, but suffocating you while you were already upset probably wasn't the best idea.

-----

In hindsight, maybe Alexia should have done something sooner. Your behavior remained off, but nothing else occurred that would really raise any red flags. That was, until the team had a double training session, and everyone ate lunch together. You had noticed more eyes on you in the last week, and figured that Mapi had probably asked a few of the older girls to keep an eye on you.

In an effort to convince them you were fine, you forced yourself to eat a normal amount of food at lunch, more than the carefully calculated portion you were intending to consume. It was alright, at first. You were able to distract yourself, joking around with your teammates. When you glanced down at your plate, though, finding it empty, you felt a wave of horror wash over you. You had no choice, no other option. It was too much. You couldn't do this.

You slipped away from the table after a couple of minutes of trying to calm yourself down. It felt like everyone was looking at you, judging you. You made it to the bathroom and kneeled in front of the toilet.

In that moment, you hated yourself. For eating too much, for caring about eating too much. For doing this. Tears fell, unrelated to what you were forcing your body to do. You just wanted to be normal, to feel good. You wanted to look in the mirror, and not hate what you saw looking back at you. You wanted to see what everyone else apparently saw; a normal, average looking person. You hated this, hated what you were doing, but you couldn't stop. You wanted to, more than anything.

When the door creaked open, and you realized you hadn't locked the door behind you, you were caught in the worst position possible. You didn't need to look up, see the disgusted faces looking back at you, to know that you wouldn't be able to play this off. It was obvious that you weren't just ill. You were sick.

You didn't look up, couldn't look up, at whoever was at the door. You sat back against the wall, staring numbly at the floor.

"Go get Alexia. Discreetly." You heard Ingrid instruct, and you heard Aitana reply quietly before her footsteps echoed back down the hall.

The resounding emotion was shame; for being so weak, for being caught doing this. You felt so stupid. You were an athlete, you couldn't be behaving like this. At the same time, the need to lie, to not let them make you stop persisted. You were torn, completely at a loss for words. So, instead of saying something you couldn't think through all the way, you remained quiet.

------

Aitana ran like there was a fire to the cafeteria, only slowing to a walk when she neared the doors. Her heart ached for you, truly. You'd looked so destroyed, the hatred you held for yourself clear on your face. She sped walk to where Alexia was sitting, making eye contact as the blonde turned towards her on instinct, as if sensing that something wasn't right. Mapi was on her other side, and she'd known something was wrong the second she saw her girlfriend go after you, but she'd been deep in conversation with Irene, and she hadn't wanted to overreact.

Aitana leaned down, speaking quietly in Alexia's ear. "Come with me, it's y/n."

Alexia nodded once, her expression firm as she stood. As if they were 2 ducklings following their mother, Mapi and Irene rose too, following their captain and Aitana out into the hall. They stopped just outside the doors looking expectantly at the younger player.

Aitana worried her lip in between her teeth, looking intensely at Alexia. She didn't want to say what was going on, not in front of the other girls. Ingrid had told her to get Alexia, and to be discreet. You didn't need a crowd of people.

"What happened?" Alexia asked after a minute, her voice anxious.

"I... Ingrid told me to get you, and to be discreet." Aitana's gaze flickered to the other girls, and the blonde captain caught her meaning.

"Mapi, Irene, go back inside, I'll take care of it."

They both began to protest, but Alexia remained resolute, shaking her head at them. "No, Ingrid said just me. Whatever is going on we don't need to overwhelm her." The other girls turned, sighing dramatically, walking back into the cafeteria.

Alexia fixed her gaze back on Aitana, wordlessly asking for more information.

"Ingrid and I followed her to the bathroom, and we heard her getting sick. Ingrid opened the door, it wasn't locked, and she was... she was making herself..." Aitana trailed off uncomfortably.

The pieces started to fall together for Alexia, and she didn't need the younger woman to say anything else.

"Okay. Okay. Thank you, Tana. I'll make sure she's okay."

Aitana nodded nervously, watching after her captain as the blonde made her way down the hall and towards the bathroom that the brunette had indicated.

-----

To your surprise, Ingrid didn't try to make you talk. Her and Aitana had watched you leave the room, and worried that you were ill or something, with the look on your face. They'd followed you, hovering outside the bathroom door, before trying the handle. Ingrid hadn't expected what she found, and she wasn't exactly sure what to do. All she knew was that you needed help.

She shut the door behind her, locking it this time, before grabbing a paper towel. She got it wet with warm water, before carefully approaching you. Ingrid flushed the toilet, before lifting your chin to face her. You shut your eyes, unable to really look at her. You couldn't see how disgusted with you she was; that would be it. That would shatter you beyond repair.

Ingrid carefully wiped your mouth off, before taking your hand in hers, and wiping your fingers off too. The action made you inhale sharply. She knew, she'd seen. You knew she had, but the silent acknowledgement made you sick to your stomach all over again.

The Norwegian disposed of the paper towel, turning towards the door when a quiet knock sounded. You clenched your jaw, clenched your fists, dreading the conversation you knew your captain was about to force you to have.

You didn't want a lecture. You knew what you were doing wasn't okay, wasn't healthy. You knew, and you did it anyway. Because, despite what you told yourself, it wasn't about being healthy. It was about looking the way you thought you should.

Alexia entered, taking in Ingrid's troubled expression, before her eyes fell to you. You looked hopeless, completely embarrassed, and Alexia wanted to fix it. Make you understand that you didn't have to be embarrassed, not with her. She wanted to promise that everything would be okay, that she'd make sure that you were okay. She wanted you to let her in, finally, admit that you were hurting.

None of these things were conversations to be had in the bathroom, though. Alexia walked forward, holding out a hand down to you. Slowly, you raised your head to look at her. There wasn't any revulsion evident on her face, and even though you wanted to run, hide, pretend that this wasn't happening, you knew you couldn't do that.

You took Alexia's hand, allowing her to pull you to your feet. She was steady where you were shaky, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, and leading you out of the bathroom. She stopped briefly, looking down at you.

"Do you want Ingrid to come, or would you rather talk just the two of us?" She asked softly.

Your eyes flickered to Ingrid, not wanting to hurt her feelings when she'd been so kind, but also thinking that you couldn't handle talking to more than one person about what was going on. It was horribly overwhelming enough as it was.

Ingrid caught your hesitance, reaching out to squeeze your hand. "It's alright, elskling. You talk with Ale, okay? And maybe later you can come over and have a movie night with me and María?"

You half smiled at her, as it was all you could manage, a smile she returned, before she headed the opposite way down the hall.

Alexia tightened her grip around you, like she was a little afraid you were going to run. To be fair, you'd considered it, but the tight hold your captain had on you had shut that option down. She led you through the maze of hallways, eventually finding a room that seemed to meet her requirements. It was a little relaxation lounge, one no one ever used as it wasn't very big, and the team kind of stuck together.

Alexia sat down next to you on one of the sofa's, and you appreciated that she didn't sit in the chair across the room; that would have felt terrifying like a therapy session, and you definitely weren't there yet.

"How long has this been going on?" Alexia asked. Her question startled you, having been sure she was going to try to make you talk first. She liked to do that, feeling like important discussions with her teammates were more successful when they steered the conversation. However, Alexia knew you wouldn't steer it anywhere helpful.

"How long has what been going on?" You replied, instantly regretting the words. Why had you said that? Alexia was aware that you knew what she was asking about, and she wouldn't let you get away with playing dumb.

Shaking her head, she spoke firmly. "No, we are not going to do that. Aitana and Ingrid saw, pequeña. We have to talk about this."

"I don't want to." You murmured, resting your head in your hands. You didn't. You would have done practically anything to avoid it.

"I know." Alexia told you sympathetically, rubbing her hand up and down your back. "We have to, though. I care about you way too much to not do anything about this." Ale paused. "When did it start?"

"It was bad when I was younger, a teenager. And I went to therapy, and I was doing well for a while. I'm not really sure what happened, why it started again."

Alexia didn't miss that you didn't answer her question. "When did it start?" She asked again.

You sighed, head still hidden away in your hands. "A few weeks ago. It wasn't that bad at first, I didn't notice. And then it was, and it was too late, I couldn't fix it."

"Why?" Alexia asked next.

You shook your head, even as the words threatened to spill out; the words that harassed you, that tainted every meal.

"Come on, pequeña. I am not going to judge you, just tell me."

Often, Alexia was seen as this intimidating, hardcore player. She'd do anything for her teammates, though, and she was capable of extreme kindness. If you were lucky enough to know Ale, to really know her, you knew how good she was. Maybe it was this, one of the best people you knew begging you to talk to her, that made you relent.

"I... I hate the way that I look. I hate it." Your words were dripping with self loathing. Alexia understood the unspoken words; you hated yourself.

There were a lot of things Alexia wanted to tell you, but didn't, not yet. She'd need them in the future, when the urge returned, and you fought against it. She'd need the reminders then.

Instead, she coaxed your face away from your hands, looking intently at you as she spoke.

"You cannot keep doing this. You know that. As your captain, and as your friend, cariño, you need help. We need to get you help."

Your eyes began to well with tears. Alexia took a shaky breath.

"And I know you do not want it, but you deserve it. Can you let me get you help, pequeña? Please?"

You considered for a couple moments. "What if I can't get better? What if... what if I can't?"

Above all, that was your biggest fear. Not being strong enough to beat it. It was why you resisted help; you didn't want to let everyone down if you failed. You wanted to be strong enough, you just weren't convinced you were. You were weak enough to start this, to fall into the horrible loop, to begin with.

"You will, cariño. You know how I know?"

You looked at her, eyes wide and watery. "How?" Your voice cracked, and Alexia took one of your hands in hers.

"Because you do not give up. You are one of the strongest people I know." You looked doubtful, still. "And I don't give up. I will not give up on you. We will get you better, together. You will not have to do any of it alone."

"Do you promise?" You asked, a few tears sliding down your cheeks as you blinked at the blonde.

Alexia didn't say anything, she just held out her pinky towards you. You linked your pinkie with hers, and knew, somewhere deep within you, that this wasn't a promise she was going to break.

-----

Alexia did end up telling you all of the things she'd thought of, eventually. She wrote them down in a little note on her phone, not wanting to forget what to say, not when you needed her. Your teammates, the ones who knew, who you trusted enough to let know, used them too.

-----

That it didn't matter what you looked like, being so unkind to your body was never acceptable.

Alexia told you this one evening she spent at your house, after you'd had a long therapy session. You'd arrived home, dissolving into tears, and somehow, she had known you'd needed her.

She showed up on your doorstep like some kind of magical being that could sense when her friends were sad, letting you cry into her for at least an hour.

She'd whispered the words into your hair, when you asked her if she thought getting better was worth it, if it was so painful.

You believed her, that day. Just a little.

-----

She loved you, and there was nothing to be embarrassed about, or ashamed of.

She told you this a week later when you slipped up, and you'd called her from your bathroom floor, words unintelligible through your sobs. Alexia dropped everything to come over, and spent a while promising you that relapsing didn't make you a bad person. That you were doing your best, and that was all you could expect from yourself. That relapses were a part of recovering, as much as it sucked.

When she said the words, you believed her, a bit more this time. She'd been at your apartment before you could really even get any words out. She wouldn't have done that if she didn't care, if she was disgusted with you. If she didn't love you like she said she did.

-----

Being healthy, above all else, was what mattered, and what you'd been doing wasn't.

This was Ingrid and Mapi. You'd gone over to their house for dinner, which proved to be challenging. You confessed how guilty you felt for eating enough, and how guilty you felt for not eating enough. It was hard to figure out what the right thing was, when everything felt like the wrong decision.

Mapi spoke these words to you, sounding wiser and more sure than you'd ever heard her. You trusted Mapi, you trusted Ingrid. If they said that what you were doing wasn't healthy, they weren't lying. Another piece of you got better that day, even as it was one of the hardest you faced.

-----

You were beautiful, and strong, and your body allowed you to play the sport you loved.

You lost count of who told you this one. Irene, Lucy, Alexia, Ingrid, Mapi, Pina. It became something of a mantra, something they'd make you repeat when they saw you having a bad day.

Because, above all, you loved football.

You learned to love your body for allowing you to play football.

You learned to love your body just for being itself, regardless of what it looked like.

You learned to love yourself, to not put so much pressure on everything you did.

You healed, slowly. You knew, without a doubt, that you couldn't have done it without the team. You didn't want to conceive of a world where you would have to struggle alone, because you weren't. As long as they were around, you never would be.

-----

it's a good thing i have therapy tomorrow!

i joke, although i do have therapy tomorrow.

getting better is so worth it. i promise.

[larissareadings]

It’s okay, love.

➤ pairing: Draco Malfoy x gryff!fem!reader (house barely mentioned).

Request: None

tw: eating disorder; mentions of bullying and anxiety attack.

Note: I’ve wrote this based on personal experiences and what I needed at the time. DO NOT read this if it’s not comfortable for you. If you or someone you know is struggling with an eating disorder, please reach out for help.

English is not my native language so I’m sorry if there is any mistakes. This is my first fic ever so it might not be so good. I hope you enjoy it though.

Summary: Y/N is a keeper at the Gryffindor (barely mentioned) team, who has been developing an eating disorder and Draco Malfoy seems to be only one who noticed it.

Y/N always had problems with her body image. At her early teens at Hogwarts she used to be mocked, mostly by Pansy Parkinson and her friends, because she was too thin. When Y/N turned 14, she started gaining weight since she was eating too much due to her increased anxiety, and then she was again being mocked, except now because she was getting fat, and everyone talked about it, even when they didn’t want to be mean, saying things like “you should get on a diet”. By 16, Y/N started focusing on her weight loss journey, she was finally gonna be health, delicate and beautiful as the other girls her age.

Some months later

It was right after the quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. They won, of course, since you’ve let too many quaffles go through the goal hoops. You’re a keeper at the Gryffindor team, and you’re good at it. When you’re not dizzy anyway.

“It happened again, didn’t it?”

you heard the familiar voice behind you. It sounded soft, which was not a usual thing. You closed your locker and turned around to face Malfoy. The others had already left the locker room, so now it was just you and him.

"It happened what again, Malfoy?" you asked him, trying to sound indifferent, when you were all, but that. He had some power over you, it was irritating actually, how nervous you would get when he was around.

Malfoy has been acting weird these past few months, he didn't tease you anymore. When his friends said anything about you, he would either just leave or just stare at you, but never laugh with them, never contribute to their bullying. He was the only one in the group who said nothing about your recent weight loss. The others did. Pansy would never loose the chance to say you finally learnt to shut your mouth.

You hated that he hadn't said anything, you worried you hadn't lost enough weight for him to notice, and you wanted him to see that you could be pretty too.

He looked in you up and down, checking you, before focusing on your eyes again and said "Dizziness."

You didn't understand why he was saying this, why he would notice you feeling dizzy. "Yeah.. just a little. I'm bit distract that's all". A few seconds went by where he said nothing, just stood there looking at you. Was that concern in his eyes? You couldn't tell. "Look, uhmm, I don't know where this is coming from, but I have to go. If you have any jokes to make about me being a bad keeper, or an ugly, fat bad keeper or whatever" you noticed him flinch at that, as if it had hurt him. "say it now or leave it for tomorrow 'cause I'm really tired and just wanna go to my bed"

He walked towards you, enough for him to talk low and look closely into your eyes, making you even more nervous, and said "You have to stop this, Y/N, it's making you sick."

"I don't know what you talking about"

Now he let out a breath in disbelief. "Oh, you don't know what I'm talking about? Let my clarify to you, then, It's a very simple concept, really, I thought you would know it by now." He was actually getting angry. "In order to live, people have to eat. It's the only way to get nutrients into your body. Really, Y/N, that's basics"

"I know about that. It's a good thing I eat, then, right?'' You said also angry now with his sudden aggressiveness.

"Do you though? 'Cause what I'm seeing-" he said gesturing to your body "is a girl fading away, a girl who plays with food at lunch instead of actually eating it, a girl who who used to be a great keeper, but now can't barely stand in a broom because is too weak to do so." He could feel his heart in his throat. He was so nervous, so scared you would fall off that broom. More than he could ever admit. He was keeping his worry to himself for months, hoping you would stop, hoping someone would intervene, but no one did. People just kept either praising your weight loss or humiliating you. But he couldn't stop himself anymore, if you had got hurt today, he would never forgive himself.

You felt your heart skip a beat at that. He was worried. Really worried. You didn't know how to react. You felt seen, someone saw what you were going through. But you also felt good, reassured. So you WERE thinner, and he noticed. “You know what? I don’t get it. Weren’t you and your friends the ones who said I was too heavy to play quidditch? that my weight would slow me down? that I would fall? that the broomstick couldn’t take it?” you now had tears in your cheeks. Your vision was blured by the tears and, God, you were so tired.

Malfoly’s heart might’ve actually broke in that moment. He was so angry at everyone who didn’t notice you hurting yourself, when he was actually the who drove you into it.

‘‘I am so tired.” you kept talking now, tears rolling down your face. “Why is it never enough? I’m tired. I’m thin, I’m ugly. I’m fat, I’m ugly too, and disggusting. I need a diet. I do a diet. and now fading away? OH well, just let me be happy for once.and I am happy now, ok? I’m finally beautiful.” You were talking so fast and you were feeling so weak. Malfoy saw that, so he immediately hold you in a hug, preventing you from falling. Your head were now in his chest, and you were trying to stop crying, trying to make your heart go back to it’s normal rhythm.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, love.” He said stroking your hair. “I’m sorry” he said almost inaudible.

After a few minutes you heart and breathing were finally stable again. You detached yourself from his harms, although his hands were still in both sides of your arms. You looked up to him with watery eyes. You hated crying in front of people. "I'm sorry" you said.

"It's okay." He said again, looking back at you. Taking his hesitant hand, like he was afraid to actually break you, to clean your cheeks from the tears. "I promise".

"Why are you doing this?" you were really confused. You had never seen Malfoy this gentle and.. scared?

He caressed you cheeks while looking from your eyes to your mouth. He then joined your foreheads and spoke really low, like a whisper. “I need you, Y/N.”

“what?” you said also in a whisper. you couldn't believe what you were hearing.

“I need you, and I need you to get better. This is making me crazy. I’m scared all the time. I’m scared you’re gonna fall off the stairs, or the broom. I’m scared of you getting hurt. Please.. just- just let me help, ok? Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. Anything.”

“Can you.. uhmm. eat? with me, I mean” you asked detaching your heads to look in his eyes.

“Sure” He said immediately. “Is that all?”

“No.” you let out a breath in relief with his answer and smile a little. “But it may be a start. I think”

“Ok.” He returned your smile. “You should probably talk with someone else, though. Someone who could help more. A professor, maybe. I’ll go with you, if you want me to.”

“Yeah.. ok. Can we go to McGonagall, then? Not now, please. When I’m ready.”

“Of course. Anyone you want, love.” He said looking back at you before you hugging him again. Letting your head rest in his chest while he stroke your hair again. This felt like home to both of you. You were so scared, but he was hopeful. He would do anything for you to feel better.

This whole not eating thing made you so tired, but it was also so addictive. You didn’t know if you could ever get better, but maybe this was a start. Having someone to lean on, someone who cared.. it certainly helped.

[thatwritterbeach]

one messed up bat .6

Dc masterlist

batfam x reader x jason

Summary: a relapse, some comforting words and breakfast that doesn't go to plan

Warnings: sa, talk of assault, self harm, self hate, semi-comfort, dissociation kind of a long episode, self harm during said episode, mention of vomit vague, anxiety attack, panic, blood, eating disorder (none, restrictive or compulsive, meal tracking)

A/N: I do not own dc boo hoo

It was their fault really. I mean they were supposed to be watching her, Jason was supposed to be sharing a bed with her. It's hardly her fault that upon waking up alone from one of the worst nightmares she'd ever had her first thought was an old comfortable habit. And that my dear friend is how she found herself curled up on the bathroom floor, the door locked, and a pocket knife she didn't remember stashing clutched in a shaky hand. She should call for help, should put in the minimal effort of simply sending an sos text. Two words, sos bathroom, not that hard. Certainly easier than standing and walking through the halls in search of somebody. She figured a few of them were out on patrol and had hoped at least Jason would be home, but she knew he could only be cooped up for so long and he probably assumed one of the others would stay with her. Maybe they expected Damian to keep her company. No matter, there wasn't anybody here and if she didn't do something she was gonna pass out from a panic attack so oh well.

"Just one," she promised herself quietly before fumbling to get her pants off while she was still sitting. (hard to write angsty y'all with why'd you only call me when you're high playing)

Blade clean and legs clean and the floor not so clean and breathes coming so fast she was shaking she slashed once at her inner thigh, high up enough all her shorts would cover it. The relief was a flood, all consuming and as beautiful as crashing waves to the point it brought her to tears. She'd missed it, missed the rush, and the high, and calm.

Yeah one wasn't gonna cut it, pun intended.

Guilt was tickling the back of her hazy mind but she could worry about that later. Finally after fifteen or so shallow cuts she was cool as a cucumber. There was hardly any blood, all of them barely bubbling up from her careful and light pressure. She stood up to clean herself off and nearly fell back down when someone knocked.

"Hey, you alive in there. My shift," came Dick's voice.

"Just a sec." Well crap.

"Sorry I'm late, Jay didn't tell me he wasn't here until like twenty minutes ago and I have no idea how long he's been gone but I was out and-"

"It's fine Dickie, I'm not gonna blow up or nothin'."

"Don't joke."

She opened the door after cleaning up her mess with a quick eye roll where he could see then she was showing him her arms and the tops on her thighs with and easily forced bored expression.

"What about your ribs?"

Another eyroll while she held up her shirt.

"Wanna see more ya gotta buy me dinner."

"Eww, don't joke like that I'm your brother."

"I gotta be uncomfy you gotta be," she said with a shrug and slid past him to get her bed.

"So dramatic," he said flopping himself down on the mattress.

"Looks who's talking," she snarked grabbing the throw blanket at the end to toss over him.

"No cuddles," he said with a pout.

"Had a bad dream, don't feel all that cuddly."

"Sorry."

"Didn't know you were sand man," she snorted climbing under the covers putting a good amount of space between them.

"I got promoted, or demoted depending on how you look at it."

"Demoted," she agreed laying down and facing away from him. He lasted all of two minutes before she heard him shift and just knew she wasn't gonna like it.

"We used to talk," he said softly.

"Dick don't-"

"I know I've slacked off, ok, I moved away and stopped checking in, and then I only heard from you once a month and I tried even less with Tim. And I went back through and you were the one to start the conversation, every time, and I feel like shit about that, I know that's on me. Then you tried to reach out for help and I was an ass." He scrubbed a hand down his face and through his hair and she knew has was consciously stopping himself from hugging her, he was touchy person.

"Is there a point to this?'

"Before I was an ass, back when we talked once a week why didn't you tell me. I would have helped, would have let you move in or convinced B you needed your own place or-"

"Dick, I've been doing this for so long I stopped caring about getting better. I only called you because...pinkie swear you won't repeat this," she said holding her arm behind her in the general direction of his. His pinkie found hers in seconds.

"Being, benched, grounded if you will...it made me feel small, like a kid being scolded for touching a hot stove or... I don't know but it was jarring and I forgot that I was an adult. And I just remember us being so close when I was younger, and you always gave the best hugs, and I kept thinking...maybe if I told you, you could fix it, my big brother. I knew you were upset about what happened but you've never held onto anything too long and I thought you'd be cooled off. Sorry." His hand enveloped hers.

"I'm such a bitch." She snorted.

"Not gonna argue with that."

"I know nothing I say is gonna make it better. I was criminally neglectful-"

"You're not my parent."

"No, but I am your big brother and I shouldn't have snapped at you. You should feel like you can always talk to me, always. Even if you got a hangnail and wanna complain about it-"

"Not doing that."

"You should! You should snap me or dm me or hell send me an email with a picture of your nail with the caption 'this bitch' and I should respond with a 'yeah can't believe that what a ho' and we should be able to have easy fun and flowing conversation again. But you should also feel ok bringing me the heavier stuff. You should know that if you sent me an sos I would be there. Or if you have a nightmare," he gave her hand a pointed squeeze," you should be able to call me and we can talk until the sun comes up and hate ourselves for the drousyness the next day-"

"Dick I'm not calling you for a -"

"You should! Damnit You're my little sister and I love you. I shouldn't have, fuck I shouldn't have let you go so long without making you know you could turn to me. I know it's tense between me and B but that has nothing to do with you or the others. If you need, if you or Tim or the others," he amended," need me to come to the manor I will. If you need to come stay the night or an ice cream run or a fucking pen you call me, text me, send a carrier pigeon." He was getting louder with each sentence and she half expecting him to start yelling and shaking her shoulders. She'll blame the nostalgia of having her brother there for what comes out of her mouth.

"I relapsed," she said simply, quietly.

"I'm proud of you for telling me." No lecture, no demanding to see them, just acceptance for who she was and where she was at. It made her throat tight.

"Say sike right now," she joked, finally rolling over to look at him. The soft smile on his face hardly visible in the dark but it made her insides churn. She didn't deserve it damnit. She didn't deserve his dismissal over the years but she couldn't handle him like this.

"Did you clean them?"

"No," she admitted trying to take her hand back from his but he used it to pull her towards him instead. His arms were like chains, she knew from experience, there was no escaping a Grayson hugtm.

"Are they deep?"

"No."

"then we can handle it later, or Jay can, or Tim, or Alfred, or whoever you want to. Hell you can clean them and I'll take your word for it."

"Why," she asked into his chest.

"What do you mean?"

"I've been keeping secrets for years and am notably a good liar so why?"

"Because you are a good liar, you could have easily kept your relapse to yourself, but you didn't. It would be ideal to know before you try something but I'm proud of you for being honest after the fact," he said before she felt a slight pressure on her scalp and if she felt a few tears she wasn't gonna bring it up.

___

When she woke up a green eyed Jason was watching her from the floor where he sat with his chin on the mattress.

"Do you need to punch something," she asked pointing to her own eyes. he blinked the pit fueled haze left. "You're getting better at that. 'M proud."

"Need me to hit him," he asked using his eyes to gesture to Dick who was passed out sideways on the bed his arms wrapped around her waist and his head on the bed next to her. It looked like he was gonna have a neck ache and she couldn't remember him getting into the position but oh well not her problem.

"Neh, we were up kinda late talking, just help me escape."

"Anytime princess." He grabbed a pillow to ease under Dick's arm over her stomach and pried up so she could roll out before Dick clamped down onto the pillow and let out a sigh.

"M up."

"Well why didn't you let go, I've had to pee for like an hour," she hissed at his flicking his shoulder.

"You coulda' said 'at."

"Yeah whatever, for my ailment I require at least two pancakes and," she paused to tap her chin even though only Jay could see," you get to hold the apple when I next throw knives circus boy."

"Nope, no knives nice try though," Jason tisked at her tossing her over his shoulder and walking the few steps to her bathroom. He plunked her down on the floor, pecked her on the nose and promptly closed the door in her face. The shock had her blinking at the wood before she shrugged and handled her business. She could hear them talking but not what was being said and they weren't beating down the door yet so she opted to clean and bandage her cuts. They weren't bad and had no risk of infection, she wasn't stupid, so she just used and alcohol wipe and slapped a large bandaid on the area then used a sports wrap for good measure before sliding her (Jason's) boxers back on and washing her hands. There was no longer talking in the other room. She opened the door and pumped some lotion onto her dry hands, she hated touching door handles with anything on her hands, and headed into the room while she rubbed the lemon scented lovelyness in.

"So, my pancakes," she asked with a head tilt and a few toe taps. Both men were on the bed and looked at her with slightly unequal fondness. Jason with heart eyes and Dick with older brother love. Jason made grabby hands at her.

"Hugs first," he demanded with a pout," Dickibird had you all night." She rolled her eyes but allowed herself to be pulled down onto his leg his arms coming around her and his face getting buried into her neck. He sniffed before pulling her hand up to his face and inhaling deeply.

"Weirdo, it's just lemon," she chided but didn't take her hand back.

"Smells like sugar."

"Dick tell your brother to stop sniffing me."

"Uh uh, nope, he's your responsibility now, remember to feed and water him," Dick said hopping off the bed and ditching.

"That true," she asked Jay carding her free hand through his hair," or can you feed and water yourself." The tone was light with an underlying seriousness. He could have gotten hurt on patrol of wherever the hell he had gone and he wouldn't ever tell her, the hypocrite.

"Might need some water every once in a while," he said softly.

"Need some now?"

"Yeah," he said on a sigh.

"Where?"

"Ma shoulder." She hummed and gently rolled the sleeve of his t-shirt up to examine his left. Nothing. On to the right and yep there was brushing.

"D'ya pop it back in?"

"Didn' pop out, just hit a wall too hard swingin'."

Not taking his word for it she gently poked and prodded to be sure and was sickened when he didn't so much as shudder in pain. She crossed her fingers it was the pit healing and he hadn't taken too much of something. Satisfied it was only really bad bruising she gave the area a kiss and rolled his sleeve back down.

"All better," he said with a smile. And so was born the code water, not the best but it was more an inside joke than anything.

"I uh, got my own water but you can check if you want," she said tapping her own thigh.

"Dickie check 'em?"

"No, said he trusted me to clean them."

"Good 'nough for me."

"Are you using your accent more on purpose?"

"Why, don't like it?"

"Love it," she said getting a fist full of his hair to guide his lips to hers. The kiss was soft and slow even with her fingers tangled in his scalp and his own on her back and hip. The dreamy eyed look he gave her when she ran out of air had her stomach rolling with guilt from her relapse and she dropped her head to his chest unable to maintain eye contact.

"Can I have my pancakes now?" It was a small request, one she didn't even truly mean but he saw it for what it was, she wanted out of her room on her terms, not dragged out and forced to socialize against her will.

"Yeah, 'm sure Dick told Alf." He went to stand with her in his arms but she squeaked and wiggled to floor before he could.

"Your shoulder," she tisked at him gently, opting to hold his hand instead and lead him out of the room.

"Yes mom."

"Want me to bend you over my knee," she asked looking at him with the most innocent eyes. He shuddered and she smirked.

"None of that for a long time," he said bumping his hip into her.

"Thanks," she said bumping him back. She could tease all day but they'd already agreed to wait, she got sick just thinking about taking her clothes off for someone and he said that was fine. Of course her brain didn't believe that. the dude lied and went off to kill the joker without her. She knew he's had...relations, since coming back from the dead. Knew he was familiar with his body and how to use it in a way she envied. She wasn't blind, he was hot, pitfire hot, and he was a drug lord and he frequented bars and she really shouldn't have been surprised the first time she saw him leave with girl way prettier than her, and it shouldn't have hurt the second time. The third sent her sprinting for a place to empty her stomach and she couldn't eat for two days after, picturing the girls trim waist and ignoring her own which was well muscled and she would have loved on anyone but herself. The fourth time she watched him take a girl home she laid into her flesh with a blade like she hadn't in years and-

"-oll, sweetheart, babydoll, honeypumpkin, Y/n!" Oh that was Jason.

"Huh," she asked dumbly her eyes unfocused and breathing painful now that she thought about it.

"Deep breath, we got pancaked to eat," he demanded holding her hand to his chest and taking overly dramatic breaths. She blinked at him and realized with complete and all consuming self hatred they were in the kitchen and their were too many eyes on her and she was too hot and her skin itched and her eyes burned and head hurt and she needed out. Out of her own skin and away from them and-

"-p, stop, please be careful." It was Jason again that much she knew, but she wasn't sure what he wanted her to stop doing, she was just scratching her arms in panic and...oh, she realized her fingers felt cool and a glance down showed blood.

"Huh," she mummbled again, still blinking too fast, or was it too slow?

He was holding both her hands to his chest again and she could feel the rise and fall it felt the same as he own so she couldn't understand why he was talking about deep breaths. She was breathing which she apparently said out loud because a reply came from behind her.

"No you're not, kid come on in and out." The new voice pulled her back tight against a firm chest and the smell of lavender made her head hurt more. Dick.

"C'n't, m head. Sm'l, s'too strong," the last word the clearest as she forced it past her aching lungs and huh guess she wasn't breathing. He vision swam as Dick was replaced with someone not wearing too much lavender hair gel but this someone was shorter. Her height ish but the chest was still firm and the arms around her toned.

"You're gonna pass out." Oh, that was Tim.

"T'm?"

"Yep, that's me I'm here, come on you nerd just breathe, if you pass out I'm eating every pancake and waffle."

Right pancakes. She could smell them now, along with different versions of sugary syrup and fruit. She focused on the smell of fake strawberries, and pictured the red syrup-nope, nope, nothing red, that makes her vision swim more. Blueberries, she could think of blueberries, not her favorite syrup flavor but doable, if Damian didn't eat it all, he loved his fruit. She hoped he wasn't here to see this. The smells got stronger as she was moved further into the room and she tried to reach for the bottles she could see to her left. She was in Bruce's lap, she realized Jason crouched in front of her and her wrists still in his grasp. Damnit, she wanted the syrup. She wanted her pancakes. At least she could see them now, her vision returning and ears not ringing as loud. Her chest hurt but she was taking easier breathes and she looked around to get her bearings. Dick was on the other side of the kitchen washing his hair out in the sink while Alfred helped. She was still sitting in Bruce's lap, Tim was gently wiping her forearms, Jason was sitting now, still holding her hands but less from. Damian was crying two seats over, and-wait, Damian was crying two seats over!

"Dami," she croaked clearing her throat to try again. "Dami, I'm ok now, promise." She knew she looked like shit and it made the statement all but useless. He ran from the room followed quickly by Alfred. Dick took the seat next to her.

"That sucked," she said head drooping onto her adopted father's shoulder against her will. She was still pissed at him, but she was so tired.

"What triggered it," Jason asked with concealed panic. Right she'd probably made him blame himself. And given him a heart attack. She didn't answer just closed her eyes and took gloriously easy breathes.

"Sorry, I forgot you don't like lavender," Dick said. He had a dish towel around his shoulders catching the water droplets from his sink bath.

"Gives me a headache,' she supplied giving him a thumbs up.

"I'll toss it."

She gave another less stable thumbs up and forced herself to sit up straight.

"Can I have my pancakes now?" They all jumped to say no, afraid she might not keep them down but Bruce beat them to it readjusting her like she was still a kid and fed her from his plate. He got syrup on her shirt, just a drop, but she hated being dirty in her pj's and her hands clenched and un-clenched nervously at her side making the next few bites hard to swallow. Half a pancake later she felt human, aside from the syrup drop taunting her, the other had moved away to their seats to taking slow bites of their own food. Jason looked like hell and she knew she couldn't explain why she'd had her freak out.

"Has this happened before," Bruce asked, eating after she'd shook her head at another bite.

"I don't think so, but it could have. Sometimes I space out, but it's never lasted so long. Never in the field," she was quick to say.

"What brought it on," Jason tried again, and the look in his made the pancakes roll in the stomach.

"Can I have some water," she asked in reply. He looked torn, but grabbed a bottle from the fridge and set it in front of his chair. She tilted her head at him but he ignored the look and took her from Bruce to have in his own lap. She flinched when he sat and her mind started up again calling her overweight, saying she would hurt his leg. He held her to one side and grabbed the water before she could reach for it. She took it from him and tried to twist the cap, but her hands weren't working yet, the girl strength in her fingers gone. She grew frustrated the longer she tried. Her jaw ticked and she was seconds from throwing it in a fit when Jason took pity and opened it, going so far as to hold it to her lips. Her family treating her like a child and passing her around the table was pissing her off but she didn't fight him and took slow sips until he seemed pleased and set it on the table. She didn't dare pick it up, she'd probably spill it.

She fished her phone out of Jason's pocket where she knew it to be so she could check the time but he snatched it back before she could even push the button.

"Hey," she grumbled. He slid it to Dick who pocketed the device.

"Not till you talk, what made you-"

"Freak out like a weirdo?"

"Have a physical reaction to a mental problem you need help with." She snorted at his phrasing. She was fading into sleep again, the sugar keeping her lucid this long, but she fought to keep her eyes open and on his.

"Wanna tell me and not these losers," Tim asked over his cup of coffee. "It's decaf," he lied when she squinted at the mug.

"I...think I wanna talk to Alfred," she said gently, testing the waters.

"Ok, that's ok, s'long as you talk to somebody," Jason said grabbing one of her hands where she'd started to pick her cuticles.

"But not till he's done with Damian, poor kid shouldn't have to keep seeing what a fuck up I am."

"Don't say that," Bruce chided.

"The kid found me in a pink tub."

"Which is fucked, I'll agree but it made us pay attention to something we should have seen long ago. Some detectives we are," Dick said still shoving his face with pancakes. She wondered not for the first time where he put it, dude was fit, and ate like a horse. She couldn't so much as smell sugar without feeling it go to her waist.

"How do you do that," she said then smacked her free hand over her mouth. Oops, that was an inside thought, guess a tired y/n is an honest one.

"Do what," he asked, tilting his head like the massive puppy he is. Jason gently pried her hand down.

"Eat so much and not get fat?"

"So much. Kid I've done the calculations, with what I burn nearly every night I eat perfectly if not under what I should." His head tilted the other way, stupid puppy eyes.

"But..." She couldn't think of a way to phrase it to make them understand, stupid men and their stupid better metabolism.

"Sweetheart, how many calories do you eat in a day?"

"Two-thousand-one-hundred. Ten carbs, no less than a hundred grams of protein, and whatever fiber is in my protein shake," she said automatically. She didn't have a problem, she ate fine, she ate just right for her job. She was careful. Didn't stop the voices in her head from shouting every time she passed a mirror though.

"That's...specific," Dick said with uncertainty.

"Do you keep a journal," Bruce asked clearing plates.

"A feeling journal, no."

"I meant a food journal."

"Oh, yeah, nothing weird about that plenty of people have one," she jumped to defend herself. She was so tired and they just wouldn't let her be, she wanted to curl into her boyfriend, heh boyfriend, and sleep for days. Distantly she knew that wasn't a good thought.

"Yes they do, and there's nothing wrong with it just wondered if you would mind sharing it."

"No," she said without hesitation.

"We just wanna make sure you're ok," Tim said gently.

"I just wanna go to sleep. I'm tired from my freak out, please can I take a nap in the library or something," she whined using her own puppy eyes on Jason. He sighed and finished his coffee like a shot then eased her off his lap to stand.

'Want me to carry you," Dick asked, knowing about his brothers bruised shoulder.

"I've been tossed around like a toddler enough for now, thank you."

10-16-24

@stormz369

[hybridzizi]

Here are some things that are true: if you don’t have gluten intolerance, gluten is not going to hurt you. Gluten does not cause autism or ADHD or whatever.

Here are some other things that are true: Up to 20% of people will suffer from IBS during their lives. IBS is more common in people with autism and other mental disorders. IBS symptoms are uncomfortable and having them all the time can distract you and push you towards a meltdown. Bread is a common IBS trigger.

I’m going to ramble, so here is the important advice: if bread upsets your stomach try switching to sourdough (check the ingredients -- if it contains vinegar or acid it’s not real sourdough) and make an appointment with a dietitian (not a nutritionist. Dietitians have training. Nutritionists have opinions).

Now let’s pretend you don’t know the above facts. You just know that dealing with meltdowns is hard. One day a friend tells you that cutting gluten helped them and you’re desperate for anything so you try it. You feel better. You have less meltdowns. You make an appointment with your doctor to tell them about this. The doctor runs a test and tells you you aren’t gluten intolerant. The doctor doesn’t ask any more questions. Maybe you try reintroducing bread back into your diet and your symptoms come back. Do you conclude that your doctor knows what he’s talking about? Or do you conclude that gluten is bad for you despite your apparent lack of gluten intolerance -- maybe it’s just a poison! Maybe no one should be eating it!

I don’t have a point. Rather, I have several points.

The first and most important point is to get yourself checked for FODMAP sensitivities. Wheat is not the only FODMAP and if you tweak your diet a little you can have a much better time. 

The second point is that if someone tells you something stupid try to meet them with compassion. It might not be true that they have a secret gluten issue that the doctors are lying about, but it might be true that bread upsets their stomach and makes them miserable and they are telling you about this with the best language they have. It might be true that everyone else is either dismissing their problems or telling them that gluten is a poison, and by giving them a more even view (it probably isn’t gluten but did you know that wheat has other components?) you are opening up the world to them! This will be a lot more persuasive to them about the gluten thing than just telling them they’re wrong will be. 

The third point is that even if someone is wrong about why something helps they might have a point about it helping. Homeopathic hospitals had better survival rates in the 1800s because the doctors washed their hands. Buying gluten-free bread can help your autistic meltdowns by not triggering the IBS you don’t know you have. Asking why someone thinks something will get you a lot farther than just telling them they’re wrong. Curiosity is an awesome tool. Use it!

Shit’s complicated. We’re all just doing our best.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 [Part 2]

Everyone sometimes needs that special push- that one good reason- to break out of old shells, walls and habits, and make that change.

Tags/Warnings: Non-Idol Jungkook, Dog Hybrid!Reader, former criminal!Jungkook, mentions of past neglect/abuse, reader has some pretty bad psychological problems (OCD, Anxiety, Selective mutism, hints at an eating disorder), hypersomnia, road to recovery, hurt and lots of comfort, angst, Jungkook has some problems with aggression and swears a lot, more TBA in future chapters

There is no taglist for this fic.

A/N: You can have early access to this and other selected fics on my Patreon!

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

It's right where he thought it might be.

You're basically drowning in the fabric of his sweater, but he's also never seen you so visibly calm during sleep. He can't even be mad about it- even though he usually does get rather irritated about his own clothes being taken by others.

He hates it. But for some reason, if it's you, he doesn't mind.

In fact, he's got to admit that you look cute like this. "We'll take a small walk to the park with the dog hybrids today. They need their time outside." Hana informs him as he puts the card hanging from the red string around his neck, so staff knows who he is. "They're all ready at the front, so you can go and check in with Yoha." Jungkook furrows his brows.

"What about her?" he asks, pointing to you who's still napping in the corner you're usually found in.

"She doesn't tag along." Hana says, as if he should know that. "She's not mentally fit for trips like that."

"I mean, on paper." Jungkook says, almost scoffing. "But like, did you ask her?"

"No, because she never comes along." She says rather defensively now. "Jungkook please, we know her better than you. Just stay here if you don't want to come along, but don't try and lecture me or anyone else here who's worked with her and other hybrids for years." She scolds.

But it seems like she doesn't know Jungkook.

Walking over to you, he's careful not to touch you, well aware that it could freak you out especially if you're asleep.

Doesn't know you, he scoffs to himself. He knows you better than her it seems, that's for sure.

"Hey." he tries, but you're sleeping too deep. "Hey, puppy. Wake up." he demands again, and now he can notice your ears moving, eyes opening after a few seconds, until his eyes widen at the sigh. You're smiling. Your tail is wagging.

You look genuinely happy.

"Hey there." he says, unable to hide his own smile either. "Hana said we're going to the park. You wanna come along?" he wonders, and he can see for a second that you're hesitating. "It's okay if you don't. No hard feelings. Just thought, you know, I should ask." he adds on, when you slowly sit up, playing with the strings of your sweatpants.

Then, you point at your shoes.

"Oh fuck, yeah, I forgot!" he shoots up, running to his bag where he pulls out another plastic bag, before running back to you. "I bought them a size smaller cause those you have seemed to big, but if you wear like, I don't know, socks or some shit in them they might fit." he explains, before pulling out some slip-in chelsea boots with almost no heel. Your eyes are like dinner plates at the sight. "Would be a good chance to try them out, no?" he wonders, nodding towards the small crowd of dog hybrids at the front, Yoha already counting everyone it seems.

So much for 'she doesn't ever come along', he angrily thinks.

And then, you pull on his sweater to get his attention. "Hm?" he wonders, just for you to hesitantly grab his sleeve. "I'll stay with you if that's what you're scared of. And we can go back at any moment." he reassures.

And that's what seems to make it work for you, because you move to slip into your new boots, before you get up and grab your coat from the hangers close by. He wants to say something to the staff-

But he composes himself, bringing you along to the front where Yoha and Hana already wait.

"Here." Hana says, giving him a yellow reflective.. Leash? "It's mandatory for her. I'm sorry, but without it-"

"Yeah yeah fucking protocol crap, I know." he grumbles more or less to himself, snatching the leash from her hands before he carefully clips it onto your collar. He cringes at the sight, hates it, and he hates it even more that somewhere in the backside of the logical part in his brain, he understands it.

He also comforts himself with the fact that you seem perfectly fine with the arrangement. It gives you a sense of security, equal as if holding onto his hand but without physical contact. You're skittish, still very much scared, but walking close to him seems to calm you down enough to make it work.

He didn't think you'd genuinely play at the park like the others do, and you don't- but that's fine.

The fact that you're here, that you're outside and at least attempting to find your way back into life away from your little bubble you've created shows him that you're not a lost case at all. A bit of work, and you could surely be adopted by someone nice who looks past all those issues. But somehow, the thought of you living with someone else makes him upset.

He knows he's not a good fit for someone like you.

He's talked to his best friend about it the night prior. It's a lot of responsibility already to live with a regular hybrid- but you're special needs. And considering his past mistakes and criminal record, there's simply no way to file for emotional support or therapy assistance.

It's beginning to rain a little, and he throws the hood of his sweater over his head before making sure your jacket is zipped up properly as well- like second nature.

You've noticed this before as well. He looks scary, with his piercings and tattoos and bold body and angry gaze. But he only looks that way. He's like a guard dog for you; a protector, because with him at your side nothing bad will ever happen. He's nice, a bit rough, but always friendly in his own way.

You like him.

Meanwhile Jungkook himself can't see what you see in him.

He's not the right person for you.

Next to him, you're perfectly content with your situation. Your tail is wagging sometimes in shared excitement when the hybrids in sight throw and catch a ball, but you also don't look like you actively want to participate. Watching seems to be more than enough, though you do check in if he's still next to you, tail wagging eagerly when he responds with a short smile your way.

He's not the right person for you, and he knows this.

When you walk back, he can feel your fingers grabbing the edge of his sleeve tightly, weighing his arm down a little. He notices the way his skin brushes against your fingers every now and then- feels how you do not react anymore, at all. There's a small moment of pure bravery, the sight of a road ahead, and the view of every hybrid standing in pairs holding hands that leads you to carefully slip your fingers between his. He quietly responds, holding your cold hand in his warmer one, thumb running circles over the soft back of your palm.

He knows he's not the right person for you.

But he wants to be.

[farfromstrange]

Do No Harm

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Broken Heart Syndrome

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: After Matt stood you up at dinner, you are tossed down a rabbit hole of agonizing thoughts. As so often, you turn to the bottle to take the edge off, though this time, you make the decision to confront at least one of the objects of your anger. To your drunken mind, at least, even the worst decisions make sense.

Warnings for this chapter: ANGST, Heavy on the angst (18+), graphic descriptions of domestic violence (involving a belt, too), allusions to sexual assault, mentions of homicidal ideations, self-hatred, alcohol abuse (and everything that comes with it), argument between friends, Reader says some mean things, suicidal ideations/depression

Word Count: 4.9k

A/n: I'm sorry you had to wait so long for another chapter, but it took me a very long time to finish editing. There are parts in this chapter that hit very close to home, and I can't just post it without saying a thing or two. If you or anyone you know struggles with domestic violence, there are organizations that can help (check domesticshelters.org, for example). The same goes for mental illnesses; don't be afraid to seek out help if you start noticing symptoms. Check with your doctor or healthcare provider. There is absolutely no shame in asking for help. You've made it this far, and I am so incredibly proud of you. It was important to me to share that with you. Read at your own risk, please!

Read Chapter 14: Broken Heart Syndrome here on AO3!

In medical school, they teach you that a broken heart can quite literally kill you. Acute emotional distress can overstimulate the heart, causing the left ventricle to collapse. Takotsubo cardiomyopathy looks like Japanese takotsubo, an octopus trap. Still, those without medical expertise know it as Broken Heart Syndrome—because three words are all you need to understand what emotional hurt can do to the body. 

A lot of the time though, the human psyche compels a person to find other ways to deal with the pain that eats away at them. Bad coping mechanisms can be just as deadly as a physical disorder. Self-harm doesn’t fix the actual problem, it only distracts your mind momentarily from what is truly hurting you. 

Like with any other disease, a broken heart will get worse if it’s not treated. Either, the organ literally stops pumping blood as it should, or it drives you to a point that would easily get you a free 72-hour stay in the psych ward. Emotions are unpredictable like that.

As a doctor, you know everything in the human body is connected. If the body is sick, it will affect the mind; if the mind is sick, the body will suffer, too. Mental illness can be just as deadly as any terminal condition. If pain and trauma are not properly dealt with, chances are high that ignoring it won’t make you any better. And alcohol or drugs are never the solution to a problem, they only cause one problem to branch into a million more—and then you’re fucked. 

You are aware that self-harm is the first thing a desperate person with a history of trauma will turn to, but it’s so much easier. In practice, life is fucking vile; it’s a miserable existence that is slowly killing all of us, and you would much rather burn the skin off your bones while you’re still alive than face the very demons you’re trying so hard to run from. You know that’s a sick mindset to have, and if it were anyone else confiding these thoughts in you, you would refer them to the Department of Psychiatry to get the help they need. But you… you cannot be helped. Not anymore. Because you don’t want to be helped. It’s all useless anyway. 

The door to your apartment slams shut with a deafening crack of the hinges. As soon as the world is locked behind a deadbolt, and the city has disappeared, your back hits the wall.

A minute ago, he texted you. You prayed for an explanation to a God you don’t even believe in. You prayed that it would all make sense and your brain is spinning in nauseating circles for no reason. You just have to sober up and everything will be okay, you thought. But then you unlocked your phone with shaky and stupidly needy fingers, relying on a hope that stemmed from this childish need to be loved after the one parent you’d had left failed so miserably, and his words drilled into your brain like a sharp knife. 

“You deserve better,” he texted. “I’m sorry.”

What a weak excuse. It’s supposed to be your choice, deciding what or what not you deserve. With one text, he took that from you.   

It was stupid, you think, to get your hopes up. You were just starting to believe that you could finally move on. The weight on your chest felt less heavy with him there. Matt was never supposed to appear in your life, but then he did, and for the first time in a very long time, you felt like your life mattered again. He put a smile on your face. You don’t remember what it is like to be happy because you never really felt happy before. Since you can remember, you have been running for the sake of survival. Anything you have done up until now was a mere act of self-perseverance. 

With Matt, it felt different. He understood you because he, too, seemed to be only existing, trapped in a cage of his trauma’s making. 

You were dating again, albeit reluctantly and fighting back like a cat on steroids—but you were dating again. If you wanted your effort to mean something, you had to get over what happened. It’s not that easy, of course, but you believed her when she talked you down from the ledge. 

You should have listened to your gut. Everyone in your life will eventually end up leaving or hurting you, or both. You’ve been rotting away for so long, there is nothing left of you to give. He touched your heart once, and now you’re falling apart. 

Because there’s not enough of you there to love. 

Because no one wants you. 

You slide down the wood of your door. If only the floor could open up and swallow you, the pain that traps the oxygen just before your lungs could end. And if you could only cut out your amygdala or sever the connections in your prefrontal cortex to stop being this miserable about a man you barely knew, you would. 

The tears running down your cheeks are silent. Dry. They taste like poison on your tongue, but your skin feels almost numb to the burn. You can’t scream or sob because there is no air for you to breathe. You’re drowning on dry land, and the rapid drumming of your heart echoing in your ears is the only sound that exists. It isn’t steady like a clock; it is a ticking time bomb in your chest threatening to explode—threatening to turn into an octopus trap and kill you. 

There was never anything left to endure for. You have been torturing yourself every passing day like a fucking masochist, watching yourself on the big screen like a puppet without the intention to stop. 

Icarus flew too close to the sun, but boy, you flew right into it. You would have made Matt the sun if he had stayed around for long enough, made yourself dependent on him all over again, and you would have drowned regardless. Maybe it was all for a reason; maybe Claire was right, after all, to push you to see the truth for yourself—how foolish you’d been—but why does that reason hurt so damn much? You barely knew him enough to care, and yet you did. It makes no sense. 

You deserve better. If he truly believed that, he would have said it to your face. 

The phone slips from your stiff hand before you can reply. Every muscle in your body strains, stretching over bone and lighting every cell and every nerve on fire. You can’t move. You’re sure you are going to die like this, a mess on your living room floor. 

He broke your heart; Matt Murdock took it right out of your chest and smashed it up because you dared to want more. He wrapped his hands around your neck and suffocated you. He gave you hope, and then he took it away, and that is something you’re sure you will never be able to forgive. What kind of man doesn’t have the decency to tell the truth before it’s too late? 

You tear at your dress, hoping to inflate your lungs somehow. The walls around you threaten to cave in. Everything seems larger than life, suddenly. Even with your hands stretched out before you, you can’t stop the avalanche. 

This isn’t about Matt. It has never been about him. Cracks in the broken foundation of an already shattered heart don’t hurt as much as the first crash, they only add to the agony. How messed up do you have to be, you think, for your brain to not even notice the difference between getting stood up and having the ground ripped out from under your feet? You were never good at math, but perhaps you are the sum of your actions, after all.  

A car honks outside. The bright headlights flash through the gaps in the blinds on the windows. You remember how they hit him one night, reflecting off the pure white of his dress shirt. His chest was heaving then. 

“What the fuck were you thinking, huh?” he had bellowed, drowning out your repeated sorry’s like a tsunami wave. “You embarrassed me in front of… of everyone. My boss, the whole hospital—and you think ‘sorry’ is going to fix it?”

You can’t quite recall whether the lights were white that night, or if they were red and blue, and the only thing louder than his screams were the sirens of cop cars rushing by. 

“You’re never gonna learn,” he’d said, crouching down before you, and he looked like what you would imagine the devil to look like if he were human. “You’re always going to screw up because you, my love, are absolutely and utterly fucking incompetent.”

On second thought, maybe there were sirens outside. They sounded different from your quiet sobs. He forced you to keep your eyes open, to watch as he undid his belt, and against every bone in your body, instead of running, you stayed rooted in place. You stayed there until he grabbed you and threw you into the coffee table. 

The vase stayed intact, thankfully, as it tumbled and fell, but you could see your reflection clearly in the porcelain. You watched him come up behind you, and all you remember is how hollow you were; you were so fucking hollow your heart could have screamed and it only would have echoed before it would have died. You were bound—bound to him. 

“Get up.”

You could have grabbed the vase and smashed him over the head with it. 

“I said,” he repeated, “Get up.”

Your hand slipped from the porcelain, and you got up. It was like he knew you wouldn’t have the guts to kill him. Lord knows you wanted to; some days, you were so close to stealing a knife from the kitchen and slashing his throat while he was asleep. You’d watch him choke on his blood with a smile on your face, you thought, but as soon as the handle was in your hand, you realized that you couldn’t. Not even when you thought about the belt, the feeling of him on top of you as he took whatever the fuck he wanted from you over and over again until he drew blood. 

It should have been enough to make you snap, all the abuse, but you physically couldn’t touch him. At first, you thought you loved him too much to hurt him. Your feelings were complicated and you were hardly aware of how dire your situation truly was, but eventually, you came to the realization that the inability to jab a knife into his jugular had a different reason entirely. 

You had no money, no power, no life outside of him. He seized all of your income. You didn’t own a valid passport, a bank account, or a car. If you had killed him, you would have been a fugitive and a thief. If you had left him, you would have found yourself jobless and disgraced with nowhere to go. No friends, no family, no love. And so every time you wished him dead, the knife wandered back into the drawer. He owned you. 

Toward the end of your relationship, you used to imagine the sirens were coming for you. If you had filed at least one report, maybe someone would have heard. Maybe they would have paid more attention to the cries for help from the neighboring apartment. Maybe then it would have never come this far.

The past can change your future, but you can’t go back in time and change the past. If we could, life would be so much easier. 

You manage to crawl from the door to the couch where there’s a half-empty bottle of tequila hiding in a paper bag. You need to forget to remember how to breathe. 

The burn of liquor blazes through your taste buds, taking them apart and putting them back together all the same. You choke on it when you try to swallow. Nothing has ever tasted quite this bad, but you can’t stop. The dull ache fills your chest, even if it’s just for a second, and you need more. You can’t stop because if you stop drinking and open your eyes, you will see his face again. It’s worse than dying; at least in death, there is peace.

You drink until the already half-empty bottle is empty, wiping the tequila from the corners of your mouth. You sniffle, you gasp for air, and you sob into the dead quiet of your apartment. Matt should not have the power to hurt you this badly. 

The drunker you get, the more his face starts to blur. All faces start to blur. 

“Stupid fucking idiot!” you curse under your breath as you storm into the kitchen, tearing through the liquor cabinet that used to be full but now resembles more of a black hole with stray bottles of vodka all around. 

Drinking pure vodka is like pouring disinfectant directly onto an open, gushing wound. The only difference is that alcohol only works to kill off unwanted bacteria on the outside; it doesn’t exorcize the demons in your head. 

Time keeps running, and the liquor keeps flowing, and you don’t remember which way is up anymore, you only know that it won’t stop fucking hurting. Fuck Claire, fuck Matt, and especially, fuck him. Fuck everyone and God and the whole fucking universe. You just can’t do it anymore.

The cold air hits your face when you stumble out of your apartment complex. Your brain is jumbled, and the world is turning a little too fast. All you know is that the walls were caving in on you, and your veins were swelling with the heat of fury—like you were drowning in your blood. Vodka makes you dumber, yes, but it also singles out one singular emotion for you to obsess over, and you won’t be able to rest until you get it all off your chest. 

A cab pulls up to the curb. You only have a handful of cash, but it should be enough to get you where you want to be. No, where you have to be. 

You catch your reflection in the rearview mirror, makeup smudged and reeking of alcohol and despair. What the driver must think of you—a lonely woman in the back of his cab with her hand clenched tightly around the bottle of maze in her bag, thinking she’s so subtle about how terrified she truly is underneath the mask of anger that drives her. You can never be too careful, never too mistrusting when there are men involved.

The car comes to a halt only ten minutes later. “Are you sure you should still be drinking?” the driver asks, nodding toward the liquor store across from you. 

You scramble with the cash in your hands. “I’m not here to drink,” you manage to say. “I’m visiting a friend.” And you point upward to the dark windows above.  

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” You hand him the money. “Keep the, uh, change.”

He is about to protest, wanting to tell you that you overpaid and you might need to pay for a ride back, but you slam the door on him before he can get a word out. You don’t need a stranger to tell you what to do. 

The curb feels unsteady under your feet, almost like the ground might open up and swallow you whole. When you eventually manage to find the door, you almost break the door as you force your way inside. The lock has been broken for quite some time, so a key isn’t required for entry, but there is something about the wood tonight that proves trickier to open. 

Every step up the stairs knocks the air out of your tired lungs. It’s late, and rationally, you know you shouldn’t be here in your current state, but you’re angry and you’re drunk, and you want answers. At least for one of the many shitty things wrong with your life lately, you need to find a reason or you will continue sucking on the bottle of vodka until the lethal limit doesn’t exist anymore. 

On the fourth floor then, you slump against the doorframe, utterly exhausted. Your head is spinning. Your stomach is churning. How many drinks you’ve had before you got here, you can’t even remember, but you are starting to feel the deadly concoction wanting to purchase a ticket for a ride through your esophagus. 

You hammer your fist against the wood. Once, twice, even a third time. No answer. You try again, less gentle this time. Once, twice, a third, a fourth, and a fifth time, and then you lose count. You knock and knock and knock until your knuckles feel like splitting open, but you don’t stop—you use your palm, waiting for the creaking of the floorboards to tell you that someone, anyone, is home. If you could scream, you would have already, but your throat is burnt dry. You abuse the poor door until finally, you hit the air. 

“What–” Claire stops halfway, her eyes falling upon your slouched frame. A meow sounds from inside the apartment. “Liv?” she asks. “What the hell are you doing here? It’s 2 am!”

You didn’t realize how late it has gotten, or how long you must have been crying and drinking and crying some more. 

“What happened to you?” 

She was asleep. You’ve been trying to call her for days, but here she is, perfectly healthy, wrapped in a robe that isn’t hers, and she has been asleep while you were losing your mind. You were hoping something happened to her, that she didn’t ghost you for no discernible reason, but from the looks of it, she did just that. Yes, she looks miserable with dark circles under her eyes and the room behind her a downright mess, but your mind refuses to be anything but irrational right now. The burning hot anger is back, coursing through your veins at a speed almost too much to handle. 

“What happened to me?” you snap. “I’ve been trying to reach you for two fucking days, and you’re asking me what happened?” 

“Shh!” Claire pulls you inside. The door slams shut behind her, much louder than your voice could ever be. “Jesus,” she says. “Quiet down.” 

A pause. Under her gaze, you almost feel small. Scrutinized, even. “You smell like a fucking distillery,” she adds after a moment of just staring at you—staring as if she had any right to.

“That all you have to say?” Your mouth falls open in a snarl. “Well, fuck you, Claire! Fuck you!”

She flinches, your harsh tone leaving a sharp sting behind. “Okay, maybe we can just sit down and have a conversation like normal people.”

“Unbelievable,” you say. “Un-fucking-believable.”

Normal people. You don’t know what that word even means anymore. You don’t know what anything she says means. You look at her and all you see is alarms blaring in your head, warning you, screaming for you to run, but you are tethered to the ground in the very position you put yourself in.

She utters your name and your entire body recoils.

“Don’t call me that!” It is toe-curling how foreign the word sounds. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, too, like acid raining from the sky. It burns; everything fucking burns. “You know, All I needed was my friend. I needed my friend and you weren’t there,” your voice cracks. “You told me I had to get back out there, and I did. ‘Cause you said it was the right thing to do. I believed you, Claire. I put on this stupid dress and these stupid heels and…” You sob, the memory rubbing salt in the open wound, “Matt fucking stood me up!”

Claire stops dead in her tracks. “What?” she asks.

You laugh through the tears, a sound of complete and utter desperation as you find yourself at a never-ending crossroads. You never learn, do you? 

“He stood me up, okay?” you say. “I went to dinner, he didn’t show up, and then he texted me that we’re not gonna work out, so…” You throw your arms up. “I hope you’re happy. Whatever you were trying to achieve, it obviously worked. I trusted you, and I trusted him, and it kicked me in the ass. Fucking congratulations!” 

It isn’t fair to blame her for his actions, by any means, but you’re just so angry. Your blood is boiling, turning into liquid as thick as tar, and it poisons you from the inside out. You want to scream at him; you want to scream at Matt and ask him why, fucking why did he do that? But you can’t bring yourself to text him, too drunk to make any rational decisions. The voice of reason in your head is a fuzzy, blurry mess. All you want is for this endless cycle of bullshit to end.

Cliare lowers her head. “I’m… I’m so sorry,” she says. “I– I never… I never wanted this to happen.” 

Is that guilt you’re hearing?

“I swear I wasn’t ignoring you on purpose. I mean, if I’d known…”

“Save it,” you cut her off, every word from your mouth becoming increasingly slurred. “We both know you wouldn’t have come running ‘cause you clearly had more important things to do. I don’t even know who you are anymore. A few weeks ago, you wouldn’t have gone to bed without making sure I wasn’t dead in a ditch somewhere, and now you’re moving into some nurse’s apartment with a cat you’re allergic to, calling in sick and ghosting me. Me! I’m your best friend, for fuck’s sake, and you weren’t there!”

“I told you, I’m sorry. I had some shit going on, and I just couldn’t–”

You scoff. “You’re lying to me, again!”

“Please, Liv, you have to believe me,” she says. “I didn’t know this was gonna happen.” 

“I don’t know what to believe anymore. I don’t…” Shaking your head, you tangle your fingers in your hair. You want to pull every last strand out one by one and feed them to the dogs, maybe that will give you your sanity back.

You hate not understanding. You hate not being able to read the person you thought you could trust. She swore she would never lie to you. What can you believe in if even her word is now hanging in the balance? You don’t know, and that’s something you hate, too—not knowing. The helplessness that comes with a dead end makes you want to cower in a corner, smaller than anyone has ever made you feel, and die.

Claire’s silence sounds like nails on a chalkboard. You swear you can hear your heartbeat, or maybe that’s your own. The blood is rushing in your ear. You’re standing on hollow ground, and it’s shaking—a ship lost at sea. You have to pinch yourself to stay alert. To stay awake. But the vodka in your system has already made you sick. 

“Woah!” She catches you before you can stumble over your own feet. 

Gravity is tilting your body toward the ground, but your body wants to rush toward the door. You have to run, you think. Why, you’re not sure, but you have to run.

“Hey,” Claire says. “Maybe you should sit down.”

You shrug her off. “Fuck you!”

She lifts her arms above her head, but it is not a motion of surrender. Far from it. She’s giving up and giving in to the anger that is creasing her brows.

“Well, fuck you, too!” She steps away from you. “You come here in the middle of the night, drunk off your ass, and you expect me to just take it? I’m sorry, but I’m not gonna indulge you. Not when you’re acting like a child.”

Your palm hovers above your churning stomach. “How dare you?” you snarl. “I’m not the one acting like a fucking toddler.”

“Have you ever considered that there are things I just can’t tell you? That sometimes, you just have to trust me? I never wanted you to get hurt,” she says. “After the other night, I figured you didn’t need me anymore. If that’s what you’re so mad about, sue me!”

“I did need you.”

It’s her turn to shake her head at you. “No, you didn’t. You decided to go on that date. You didn’t need me for that. But I didn’t…” She takes a deep breath, and her eyes remain guilty as sin. “I never wanted you to get humiliated like that.” 

You are too drunk to process the implications of her cryptic statements. To you, they’re just a series of words on a very fuzzy billboard in your mind; you loathe what you’re hearing. Because you believe her, even though your better judgment is telling you to abandon ship. To jump into the ocean and let it take you away.

“Yeah, well,” you say, “I still did.”

Some scars never heal. Fresh ones tend to tear the ones that haven’t closed yet open, and then it hurts so much more. 

Claire lowers her voice to a more mellow tone then. “I met a guy, okay? Like you, I met a guy, but he screwed things up for me and now I’m stuck here until shit has blown over. That’s why I’m hiding.” She sounds almost like the same woman she was a week ago. Before the world stopped turning. 

“I wish I could tell you everything, but I’m trying to keep you safe,” she says. “I’ve always just wanted to keep you safe.”

“And how’s that turning out for us?”

She scoffs. “Not good, apparently.”

Your knees begin to buckle, unable to hold your weight any longer. Claire reaches out. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Fuck off!” you try to shrug her off again.

“How much?”

“Just… Tequila. Vodka. Half a bottle, quarter, I don’t know.”

“Jesus, Liv,” she says. “You’re insane.”

You roll your eyes. “Fuck you,” though the words hold a lot less power now.

“Would you stop? I get it. You’re mad. You don’t have to keep insulting me.” She gently guides you over to the couch. “You know, all I wanted was to do right by you, but I can’t be there all the time. Some things, I have to deal with by myself, and yes, I’m sorry for not being there, but I would’ve been if you really needed me.” 

Claire reaches for your coat and pulls it off, much to your dismay. She ignores your scoff, anyway. “I would’ve dropped everything if you’d just called me tonight. You didn’t have to drink yourself into a coma to make your point.”

“I’m fine,” you protest. 

You thought she was done helping you, but her good heart betrays her every time. It’s infuriating. You don’t want to be coddled. You don’t want to be treated like a patient—you’re not. You did this to yourself. The world is spinning. Your stomach feels like a pool of toxic waste, but you did this to yourself, and you’d rather lie in your misery than have her fix it. 

When you try to rise to your feet though, all thoughts fade to black. Your ears start ringing. You blink, trying to get rid of the ocean that is flooding the world around you, but night quickly settles in. You can’t see. 

“You’re not fine.” Claire pushes you back down. “You’re gonna sit down and you’re gonna let me help you.”

You open your mouth to make a snarky remark, but you’re starting to panic. The room is too dark. Your heart beats to the rhythm of mere milliseconds, and you swear you can taste it on your tongue. 

“Do you want to turn into your father?”

The audacity, you think. The words sting worse than a thousand needles in your body. They sting worse than a headache. They sting worse than a knife to the fucking back.

You don’t want to turn into your father. You have never wanted anything less. You want to scream at her. You want to leave. You don’t want to be anywhere near here. But you’re paralyzed on Claire’s couch with her towering over you like the caring nurse she is, and you have nowhere to go. Your body has nowhere to go. 

You did this to yourself.

She tests the pulse on your wrist, then again on your neck. Her voice is starting to fade into the background. The last thing you hear is her berating you for being “so fucking stupid” with the concern of a thousand armies before your thoughts entirely, finally, dissipate. 

The world turns quiet as your body slacks, falling victim to the alcohol in your bloodstream, and it’s the most peaceful you have been in years. 

Thinking nothing. 

Being nothing. 

You wish you could stay like that for the rest of your life. You don’t want to die, not really; you want to think nothing, be nothing, and just float for the rest of your life in a space where no one can ever touch you again. Where he doesn’t exist. Where you have no memory of your father, of the things he did to you. A space where not even Claire exists, and where you can pretend that Matt never stumbled into your godforsaken life, either.

You want to cease to exist. You want the world to end. You want to drown in alcohol until you can’t feel a thing anymore.

In the end, though, life is an endless, vicious cycle; no matter what you do, you won’t escape it until you’re dead—actually dead. And no amount of alcohol could ever change that. 

Tag List: @shiorimakibawrites @allllium @siampie @auroraslibrary @roseallisonparker @abucketofweird @thatonegamefish @capylore @kniselle @sumo-b98 @peachstarliight @danzer8705 @kakamixo @littlehappyperson @atemydadforbreakfast @stevenknightmarc @zheezs14 @shouldbestudying41 @kiwwia-wiwwia @writtenbyred @echo-ethe @kezibear @peterbarnes @littleagxs @silas-aeiou

[twistedastrology]

- A Cancer's Appearance -

----------------------------------------------------------

yes i yap a lot about cancers but what do u expect im literally a cancer rising and i hate that everyone gets us wrong as fuck 😕

going orange this time bc i want color in my life rn-

ANYWAY ok so i saw a tiktok last night that was the rising signs and their appearance and Ofc they said cancers often have very soft, rounded features "like the full moon" and generally have very prominent chests and my spindly ass is watching that shit like No.

SO what do cancer placements actually look like!!! Bc i actually went thru the comments and saw a lot of cancer risings not relating and im like OK so it's not just me-

first off, i see ppl saying cancer risings look different compared to cancer suns or other placements and i have never noticed this myself. im not entirely sure why a rising placement would look different from a sun placement but what do i know i could just be an idiot-

ANYWAY-

in my experience, both personal and observational, cancers tend to be very lanky and spindly people-

they might have Slightly softer facial features but not without definition.

being their sister sign, ive noticed heavy capricorn placements tend to have jawlines of the gods, and so do cancers usually, just in a slightly different way.

capricorn bone structures generally look very <. Like very sharp and strong as if they have like no tissue on top of their bones and it's just skull and skin kinda- Cancer bone structures look very???? Not ) but like if < was a just Slightly more rounded- they have more muscle definition in their faces rather than bone definition if that makes sense.

^ to help u understand what im yapping abt, im bringing local 99% capricorn man awsten knight (lead singer of the band waterparks) to the table.

this motherfucker is so capricorn it's not even funny- he's got not 1, not 2 but SIX capricorn placements in his fucking chart- sun, mercury, mars, uranus, neptune and north node-

and unfortunately no face reveal yet but u gotta trust me when i say i look just fucking like him and i have 0 capricorn placements and like 0.5 earth placements in general.

i look like awsten if he was like a twinge more rounded like a TWINGE- i got the same sharpness right it's just like?? HAHAHAH it's like sharp corners of wood sanded down that's the difference- like sanded just enough so they're a little more rounded out but they're still pretty sharp edges u know what im saying-

(waterparks is an amazing band btw should totally check them out if u havent already they're in my top 3 all-time fav bands along with bad omens and korn)

and i have another topic abt cancers brewing in my head rn that ill have to write abt in a separate post but i dont think cancers are actually the crab i think they're the spiders- ill put an arachnophobia warning on that post bc ill probably put multiple spider images But i say that for several reasons-

one such being that most spiders are Very Spindly!!!!! they're 90% limbs!!! and the cancer placements that i know are Usually also 90% limbs, there being some exceptions ofc as always-

me personally ive always been extremely tall and lanky, i am indeed 99% limbs and for a while until i gained more muscle, looked malnourished 💔 (someone accused me of having anorexia at one point, that's a story for another day tho- i do actually have an eating disorder but not anorexia)

this could also be because im extremely mercury dominant but ive seen people say that mercurians are Short which makes absolutely NO sense to me at all- ill do a post on that at some point 💔💔

but i also consider cancers to be neptune ruled instead of moon ruled, and to me, neptunians would be very spindly.

all this to say that in my experience, cancers are not rounded or large chested, they tend to be very lanky, small-chested actually, potentially tall, and have very defined eyes for some reason or another-

in my case i have the most dark purple bags under my eyes you will ever see in your entire life (i got a sleep disorder that makes me legitimately nocturnal 🙏😔), and you can see like every emotion im experiencing in my eyes very easily IF u know me well enough (which my mom is the only one who can genuinely see everything)

i also have a REAL bad case of resting bitch face AND crazy eyes, which the crazy eyes i think are boosted by my mars conjunct asc and my uranus trine asc 🙏🙏🙏

one thing the tiktok said though that did make sense a little was "cancers are usually the spitting image of their mother, like copy + paste"

i dont think it's just the mother i think it's whichever parent you're closest to, but i Am a direct copy paste of my mom in both appearance and everything else tbh- and she's a cap rising + aries sun/mercury/venus- and we both have mars in cancer, but that's her only cancer placement so 🤔

once again this is my personal experience so if this checks out, god bless, n if it doesn't my bad i tried 🙏😔

plenty more cancer content to come i fear because there is So much that so many ppl get wrong about them 😕

[our-destiny]

If you’re comfortable with it can I request a blurb or headcannons (whatever you prefer) with yandere Bucky Barnes with a darling who never wears anything that goes above the knee but eventually they get comfortable (assuming they haven’t been yoinked at this point) with Bucky that they take a chance and wear something that’s above the knee, and they just have a lot of SH scars on their thighs. I struggle with it still so it’d be v comforting.

That or a darling with an eating disorder because they feel like they don’t deserve to eat, or others deserve it more than them (I also struggle with this) (multiple skill issues on my part👎)

Tyyy!

-💪🌝

Thank you for sending in a request, in this post I'll do SH scars but I'll do another post for an ED, and I'll link it here when I'm done. Anyway, we're gonna do headcanons! <33 Also I hope this helps comfort you bb

Yandere Bucky sees GN!Darling's self harm scars

Trigger Warnings: Self harm (both past and present), implied suicide, stalking, kidnapping, Bucky's a perv and watches you change + a sappy note at the end from yours truly - if I missed anything please let me know

Want to read more of my work? Check out my Masterlist

. ☪︎* ☁︎. . * ✰ .· ☁︎ . *  ✯. ☪︎* ☁︎. . * ✰ .· ☁︎ .

First off, our baby boy here definitely stalks you, and has probably seen your scars when he'd watches you get changed (little pervert). So when he sees you wearing something that shows them, he won't be very surprised. Chances are he'll just gloss over them and not mention them to hopefully make you more comfortable. But let's talk about how he first felt when he saw them.

Bucky was absolutely heartbroken when he saw them. You hurt yourself? Why? He thinks you're the best person in the world, he would move Heaven and Earth for you, what made you do that? He's not judging you, no he would never. He's just worried.

He probably stays awake at night for the first few days when he finds out. Worrying if he's gonna lose you, or if he's done something wrong. His stalking gets more intense, wanting to make sure you don't do it again, or hurt yourself worse.

If they're fresh ones he thinks about confronting you. About giving you a long speech about how he loves you, trying to intervene and help. But then he remembers that you don't know he knows. He shouldn't know. So that idea gets scrapped. So now he has two options.

1. Take you home with him (he doesn't like the word ''kidnap'') so he can physically stop you, even if he has to tie you up or lock you somewhere.

Or 2. Physically stop you by just taking away whatever you're using to hurt yourself. Knives would be the easiest, he'd just take them when you weren't looking, and if you bought more he'd take them, too. But if it's something else (your own nails, burning yourself, hitting yourself) he'd have to do something else. In that case, he'd be forced to take you, to keep you by his side and under his watch so you didn't hurt the person he loves any more.

Either way he is incredibly worried, and would act as soon as possible to try and help you from the shadows. He'd also insist that he's here for you, that you can call him whenever you want, even if it's the middle of the night, your safety comes above anything of his. He just wants to make sure you stay by his side, and happy. Is that so bad?

If they were old ones and healed up he wouldn't be as worried but still heartbroken.

Even the thought you did something like that just makes him want to cradle you and kiss your cute face all over, reassure you for hours on end. But he can't, because you don't know that he knows.

Either way, he becomes a lot more clingy and reassuring, telling you he's here for you if you should ever need him and showering you with even more love. Again, once you actually showed him, he wouldn't mention it or make a big deal out of it, not wanting to make you uncomfortable or pressure you into talking. But if you do want to talk, he's all ears. And has snacks and cuddles at the ready to comfort you.

As always, don't hesitate to reach out if you are struggling, there are many resources available to help you, pkease use them. Even if you feel no one cares, I care. And I love you. So take care of yourselves <33

[sophieinwonderland]

Hi, “accidental tulpamancer” here. It’s in quotes now because of what you said about potentially having a dissociative disorder. I’m awake now. I made some popcorn in the air popper for breakfast. Not the best breakfast ever, but it was something.

I want to tell you a little bit about myself and my life story as it relates to plurality and potentially having a dissociative disorder. I’m not sure why I’m doing this. You can ignore this if you want. But I trust you and I think you have good intentions. So here goes nothing.

I have always had a fairly… loose connection with the person I’m apparently “supposed” to be. When I was younger, I would wake up and decide that I was a different person today. I would get dressed according to what that sort of person would want to wear. At school, I would sometimes sign the name of the person I was supposed to be for the day instead of my own name on my paper (My teacher would put these papers on the no name board. When I pointed out that they had a name on them, she would say, “but not the one on my class list”. So I stopped doing this.).

I assumed that I would grow out of this. But I didn’t. I would still wake up and pretend to be someone else. Someone who was more powerful than me, someone who was better suited to face the challenges of today. Because I definitely wasn’t. This is when my depression started, and it would only get worse from here. I had dozens of stories I made up about these people, and eventually found D&D and writing fanfiction as an outlet.

I developed a short-lived fascination with psychological case studies. I would check out books from the library on them and read them in my spare time. Most of them were the more “common” disorders. PTSD. Autism. Schizophrenia. But I read one case study on a young girl with DID. She had been kidnapped and abused for 2 years before finally being found, and as a result had 7 different personalities. I remember reading it and thinking about how horrible this was. Even now, when I research dissociative disorders, this girl sticks in my head. Nothing similar has ever happened to me. How could I claim the same or similar diagnosis? Wouldn’t that be an insult to her suffering?

I don’t remember when I first started hearing voices. But it got more and more frequent. They had their own personalities. Some were dangerous, like the one who tried to convince me to develop an eating disorder. But most were friendly. Companions. I told a professional about my symptoms, both about my voices and my paranoia (believing that the world was evil and wanted to hurt me). They said that I checked most of the boxes for schizophrenia. Then they asked if I wanted my voices gone. Like, with medication. I thought hard. And said no. By this time I had already been hospitalized twice for suicidiality. But as bad as things had been, they would have been so much worse without my voices. Without companions to encourage me to live. Because who would they talk to if I was gone? As frustrating as they could sometimes be, I knew I would have already been dead without them. So I wasn’t diagnosed. Because a schizophrenia diagnosis would have meant medication.

I also don’t know when I first heard of plurality. It was most likely through the MOGAI community (yes, I was one of those kids with over 200 genders that trumeds love complaining about). There were a lot of systems in those spaces, and I was encouraged to ask questions in order to be the best ally I could be. And I did consider myself an enthusiastic plural ally. But I never considered myself plural. Not even when I started hearing voices. Because my voices couldn’t control my body. They could ask me to do things and I would do them (example: one of my voices really liked My Little Pony, so I would go to YouTube and put on an episode for them) but it was always me doing the thing. Me in control. As it should be. So no, I wasn’t “multiple people in one body”. I was one person in one body. I just talked to external agents. Until now.

I developed an obsession with this character as a coping mechanism. I would have long conversations with them in my head. Some days I would pretend to be them. Act like them. So I could be more powerful and able to handle the world. Eventually they started talking back. I was very scared. I had heard this was a way to accidentally make a tulpa. But I was still so scared. I got the sense from this being that it lived inside my head. Not external like the other voices. I was scared. I’m supposed to be the only person who owns my body. Because if you don’t own your body absolutely, what do you own? It doesn’t help that the entity I was now sharing a head with was just as mentally disturbed. Things got ugly. Multiple times. And it culminated in yesterday.

I still don’t know where to go or what to do. I’m not sure why I just wrote an entire fricking novel. If you don’t read this I don’t blame you. Anyway, I’m about to make pumpkin bread. Or take a shower because my head is killing me. Or both.

I think that this story alone could supply plegg-culture-is with a whole week of content! 🤪

I mean...

They could ask me to do things and I would do them (example: one of my voices really liked My Little Pony, so I would go to YouTube and put on an episode for them) but it was always me doing the thing. Me in control. As it should be. So no, I wasn’t “multiple people in one body”. I was one person in one body.

"I'm one person in one body but there's someone in my head who really likes My Little Pony so I'll put an episode on and watch it with them but I'm totally not plural." But seriously, this is actually super sweet and wholesome! 💖💖💖

"Voices" Is such an interesting word that we use. It's something that I see a lot of people using and what it means can be very different depending on the person.

There is a common type of hallucination where, as you are falling asleep, you might hear a "voice" speaking to you. Usually just a word or sentence. These types of hallucinations though, They don't have agency. They don't have emotions or a consistent sense of self. They are just sounds generated by your brain.

But it seems like yours could think thoughts and had emotions and things that they enjoyed just like any other person.

And while it is true that voices in dissociative disorders will often present as being internal, there are plenty more examples of them being perceived externally similar to imaginary friends.

But I read one case study on a young girl with DID... Even now, when I research dissociative disorders, this girl sticks in my head. Nothing similar has ever happened to me. How could I claim the same or similar diagnosis? Wouldn’t that be an insult to her suffering?

One important thing to remember about case studies is that they are case studies because of how unique and remarkable they are. People don't usually write case studies up of the unremarkable cases. Or if they do, at least those cases don't get that much attention.

I don't know exactly what you've gone through in your life. But I know that it's not just the absolute most severe and most extreme cases that can result into dissociative disorders.

If you've suffered trauma, that trauma is enough. You wouldn't be devaluing what someone else goes through just by having the same diagnosis as they do.

I think... at a certain level, you probably realize that this line of thinking is illogical. That there can be varying degrees of trauma and that yours doesn't need to be as bad as this one girl's to be valid. But I hope it can help hearing somebody assure you of this.

Because if you don’t own your body absolutely, what do you own?

Nothing. Not completely.

But... maybe that's okay.

I mean, would it really be so bad if you shared your life with others? Body included?

If, some of the times you thought you were pretending to be someone else to make it through the day when you were younger, it was somebody else who was fronting, who was helping take the load off of you and make things easier for you? (Not saying that necessarily is what was happening.)

Maybe "ownership" over the body isn't really worth it. Maybe that's the price of spending your life with others in your head. Of having those wonderful companions who helped you through your darkest days.

If you're a singlet, you get the privilege of total bodily autonomy. It's yours and yours alone. And the price for that autonomy is that you're alone in that body.

Personally speaking, I think if I had to choose between owning a body to myself and having headmates to share my life with, sharing time and sharing the body is a pretty small price to pay. But that's just me.

Best of luck with the pumpkin bread!

[pinkslashersimp]

Hi I have a request for NBC Hannibal and Will Graham/ Hannigram x reader! Can you do some headcanons for each of them walking in on a reader in the middle of a breakdown and doing SH? Sorry if that’s a bit much you def don’t need to detail the SH but would love to see what they do to stop the reader and comfort them (I’ve been going through it lately oof lol)

I love lovee all your drabbles and stuff sm if u choose to write this TYSM in advance ahh<33

╰┈➤ Synopsis: Hannibal and Will both comfort you after a ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ breakdown

⠀⠀⠀✎ Notes: Hey anon, I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ get to this, as mentioned before on here I’ve just ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ finished my college course and at the time these reqs ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ were sent I was completing assignments and doing ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ my exam^^ I wanted to get as many reqs in my inbox ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ as I could before I closed it and I’m finally getting to ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ them all. thank you so much for your patience (⋆ˆ ³ ˆ) ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ 🩷

⠀⠀⠀ I don’t feel particularly comfortable writing your ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ specific request simply because it could be ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ potentially triggering to others, so I’ve written ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ Hannigram comforting you after you’ve gone through ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ it and are struggling, I hope that is okay<3

⠀⠀⠀ I also want to check that you’re okay and everyone ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ who feels this way is doing okay? I understand this ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ was back in February but as someone who has dealt ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ with SH myself I understand that urges don’t always ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ magically vanish by a wish on a star. If you or anyone ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ else reading this needs professional or immediate ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ help it is there and available to you.

TWS: Mentions of SH and breakdowns.

988 Lifeline

The Samaritans

Find a Helpline

Signs of self harm and getting help

National eating disorders help

Hannibal and Will had both comforted you the best they could after your breakdown. Hannibal had taken care of your wounds and made you some food and a drink, Will sat beside you, twiddling his fingers unsure of how to approach the situation.

Hannibal seated himself on the other side of you, and put his hand on top of yours, will figured he should do the same and he put his arm around you and held you close, they both let you cry it out and encouraged you to eat something, just to get energy back and ensure you were at least taken care of.

Hannibal approaches the situation from a psychiatric point of view. You were sad. No, more than sad, and he had to discover the root of it to ensure the problem was taken care of and to ensure your safety.

He arranges for little sessions in his therapy office, encouraging you to discuss your troubles, mood, and harm. With each session you both get a little closer to understanding a solution, and Hannibal gives you different ways to vent your feelings without causing yourself or others harm.

If need be, he will look into a prescription for you.

Hannibal is also in charge of first aid, bandaging and disinfecting any injuries you have. Stitching too if needs be.

Hannibal will get upset at this, his level of stress varies on how bad it is getting. He doesn’t ever show this as he wishes to avoid upsetting you and causing further breakdowns and self inflicted harm, but you will notice him being much quieter and more stern with you.

Will approaches from a much more nurturing perspective, keeping a watchful eye over you every second he can, doing his best to cook for you and run little errands to make you feel better.

If he notices you looking particularly upset, he removes anything you could potentially hurt yourself with from the room and brings some tissues, he also sits with you and tries to cheer the mood up, either with a joke or by trying to steer the conversation to something you enjoy.

If Will is struggling he will call in Hannibal to help, as he knows Hannibal can read others and manipulate situations far better than he can.

Will gets upset too, but he shows it by telling you that he is hurt. He understands you are hurting too, and approaches the conversation as empathetic as he can, but he wants you to understand that this affects them, too, even if you are the one hurting the most.

He just wants you to know that they are not, and will never be, angry at you.

Anything you could use in the house against yourself has been locked up somewhere you can’t reach, and you are forbidden into the kitchen until they trust you are feeling better and okay.

Hannibal arranges for himself, you, and Will to enjoy trips out together, in hopes it will lift your spirits and take your mind off of anything that is causing unnecessary stress or harmful thoughts.

Hannibal takes you to the theatre, to fancy restaurants, and to garden and art exhibits.

Will on the other hand will take you to the beach, forests, or cheaper restaurants.

You all go on these trips together and, occasionally, they will let you pick the location, allowing you some control.

[bengiyo]

She Loves to Cook and She Loves to Eat 2 Eps 9-12 Stray Thoughts

Last time, Nomoto and her new online friend had a watch party and discussed the nature of asexuality and homosexuality coexisting, and Nomoto shared about being in love with Kasuga; I'm a big fan of Yako. The ladies managed to connect more with Nagumo, and we learned she has an eating disorder where she can't eat in front of strangers. However, she did make donuts with them and took some home. Kasuga also managed to sever ties with her father after thinking about it and talking with other women. She asked if Nomoto would support her, and of course she did. I will never stop thinking about the Chosen Family scene.

Episode 9

Yes, Yako, coach her. We cannot let them exit this season without talking through their feelings for each other.

I have never identified with a character more than Yako. I would also enjoy my food and wine while watching my friend sweat over the crush.

Yako backstory! It really is hard in your teens when you are deeply out of alignment with other queers about sex.

The power went out and Kasuga immediately went to check on Nomoto. You love to see it.

NOMOTO IS WEARING ONE OF KASUGA'S SWEATERS, AND KASUGA JUST PULLED LINT FROM HER HAIR. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

Thank you, Nagumo! It would be awkward as hell to sit in this zone of lesbian love and not know what stage we were on!

We have verbal confirmation that Kasuga likes Nomoto! Nagumo, you are our champion! You have to get these two to the next level!!

Currently dwelling on Kasuga not lying when asked directly about her feelings. There's a difference between being out and letting people in, and I like that Kasuga told her truth to Nagumo.

Episode 10

Their project manager is at least being upfront with them that they're being asked to rebuild the entire app.

Sorry, Kasuga, but it's not often we escape compulsory heterosexuality and still have a positive interaction in a sales environment like this.

Nagumo, I love you. You have finally given us a reason to have Kasuga voice her thoughts aloud.

This show really said plainly that the presumption of heteronormativity hurts and upsets people who don't fit that mold.

I really love this show detailing how harrowing pining is when you don't know if the other person is queer and the relationship you've built means so much to you.

Episode 11

Episode 21, you aired on Valentine's Day. Please don't let me down.

This former Valentine's Day and White Day gifting tradition sounds tedious as hell.

I didn't expect Kasuga's family troubles to end with that one phone call, and here goes the aunt downplaying Kasuga's feelings and bulldozing over her expressed boundaries.

Okay, Mikami! Way to come through for my girls!!

I wanna have hotpot so bad right now.

I'm so nervous about these chocolates!!

Damn, this cake looks good. I like putting the whipped cream on the side.

Kasuga picked out different chocolates! I'm so proud of her!

Now, Kasuga, why would you go and crush me like that on Valentine's Day? I know why you need to move, but goddamn.

Episode 12

Invoices for raising her? Vile.

Queers apologizing for being selfish when they confess will never not make me cry.

I'm sorry I got a bit testy at the dramatic cliffhanger, Kasuga. You came through for me exactly the way I hoped. Y'all should definitely find a bigger place together and stay in touch with Nagumo.

"I am very delighted and also taken aback." She's like me and I love her.

Aww that was so beautiful, and she's still crying.

I'm so glad she told Sayama immediately. We stay winning.

Man, I just watched I Only Want to See You, and I'm feeling the same difficulty in the transition from friendship to romance in the relationship.

Yes, ladies, thank you for talking through telling others and reaffirming that this is definitely a romance. Let's make sure no one, especially the audience, misunderstands.

I love how Nomoto bursts into tears when she swoons.

Oh snap the whole squad is going to meet Yako next week!!!

We did it, y'all! We got to see them confess their feelings and start dating. I'm so looking forward to seeing their relationship grow and mature, and I'm actually looking forward to the move and the attendant drama that brings. I hope Nagumo doesn't end up thinking that asking about their relationship somehow cost her the relationship she's been building with them. This was an excellent week of episodes.

Big thanks to @furritsubs for making this possible.

[3liza]

the Jason Genova/Del Rey Misfits story (ongoing) hasn't really gotten outside of bodybuilding YouTube despite several attempts (aborted Netflix show etc) but I think beyond it being a typical "being famous on YouTube usually fucks people up" situation theres a b-plot about the medical abuse of disabled people.

I found out recently that Genova is on monthly injections of long-acting haloperidol, a truly brutal first-generation antipsychotic that causes uncontrollable appetite and weight gain, neurodegeneration, akathisia and dystonia (this was prescribed to him on top of an active tourettes diagnosis which seems unlikely to have made it better). now despite his level of cognitive disability, Genova is a bad person to whatever level of "bad" a person can be blamed when he's got to be around 50 IQ, and level 2 autism, and I certainly dont like him, so this isn't a defense of his behavior. autistic people can be taught empathy and consideration if anyone bothers. so i think his mother absolutely fucked this kid up. but whatever doctor put this kid on monthly haloperidol is either 90 years old or incompetent or both because the only thing that will do for someone like Jason is make him sleepy (and thus easier to control) . people who take antipsychotics typically are constantly fighting brain fog and usually seek out stimulants to stay awake, just like Jason does.

so the antipsychotic weight gain and compulsive eating of junk food (I've personally experienced this with seroquel and it isn't something you can control even with full cognitive function. I used to get up in the middle of the night to eat sugar out of the bag) was being treated as laziness and lack of discipline by the Misfits and the fanbase the entire time. this is normal in bodybuilding, it's part of the culture. it was a cornerstone of the "plot" tension, Jason's "inability to commit" to weight training and cutting. none of his supposed professional coaches or trainers ever address this or consider what piling pre workout into a disabled kid on psychoactive drugs was going to do, and while it's possible they were never informed of his medical history they absolutely should have asked, and with Jason's known reputation as a compulsive liar , they should have double checked until they got a straight answer. Jason's mother enabled Jason to drive by himself, and of course he got into a half dozen serious accidents, injuring himself and god knows who else. this is mostly treated as a joke in the series. and that's kind of a different issue, how the boomer attitude towards disability of just ignoring it as much as possible and pretending the disabled person is average causes just as many bad outcomes as low expectations. Jason many times angrily denies being autistic, or minimizes it as barely diagnosable, when five seconds looking at him shows anyone with any familiarity with autism and other developmental disorders that the only reason he isn't in a care setting is that his mother is in denial and his friends don't have the background to see how bad it is.

it's clear that everyone involved is aware that Jason is "slow" but it's also clear that all the competent adults consider severe disability to be shameful and most of them seem genuinely unaware of the fact that Jason isn't just kind of a goofball who needs a good talking-to, he's developmentally delayed, cognitively struggling at all times to follow basic social interactions and conversations, is borderline illiterate, and has no impulse control. he's also constantly stimming both voluntarily and involuntarily in a way that interferes with his dexterity. he shouldn't have internet access or a smart phone, he shouldn't be allowed or enabled to use preworkout and especially not steroids and research chemicals.

and over the years he is documented, he degenerates badly in a predictable way, becoming more and more incoherent and impulsive. it's basically a moneymaking franchise centered on a profoundly sick man who is being medicated in a way that causes more monetizable outbursts and brain damage leading to compounding eccentricity, which is fairly common in bodybuilding even with participants who start out with average function and ability.

so what the fuck. I don't have a conclusion for this other than the level of dysfunction is impressive, and the amount of the exploitation that does genuinely appear to be occurring ignorant of the full extent of Jason's handicap. Jason really reminds me of the boyfriend I just kicked out, who wasn't nearly as disabled but had many of the same issues, just less severe. and people around him (also a white man) just assume he's a little goofy, and that his expressions of confusion or inappropriate comments are intentional jokes and not times when the masking isn't fully working.

[xshiny]

Shared Struggles prt 2

TW⚠️ mentions of eating disorder

After the whole ordeal, Keegan was still by your side, holding you close as he made sure you were ok. “You’ve got a case of malnutrition,” His voice had softened as he had sat down next to you in a chair. “They gave you all sorts of vitamins and other crap. It’ll be a while before it effects you, though.”

You sigh, staring at the ceiling. "Great. Now I have a bunch of tubes things inside of me?" You complained, rolling your eyes.

“Is that really your only concern? What the hell kinda attitude is that? It’s a miracle you’re not dead yet!” Keegan exclaims.

"A miracle...huh" you scoff, and close your eyes, pretending to fall asleep.

“Yeah, don’t even try to make me out like I’m exaggerating and don’t you dare go to sleep on me!” Keegan said sternly, poking the bridge of your nose.

You scowl, narrowing your eyes at him. "It wasn't that bad"

“Wasn’t that bad??” He said, a look of disbelief and worry on his face. “Look me in the goddamn eyes and tell me you’re feeling perfectly fine.”

"I am feeling perfectly fine" I said, sounding so uptight and a bit cocky.

“No you’re not.” Keegan said, “Now don’t be a stubborn little shi-“

An older doctor from the medical unit walks in, and Keegan lets out a frustrated huff at them, as if they had interrupted his rant for no good reason.

The doctor walks over to you and Keegan, checking your vitals before saying, “He should recover just fine. We were able to give him a mixture of vitamins and minerals that he would normally get from a regular diet. It’s best he goes out on light duty for a few days until he’s fully recovered, but other than that, he should be fine.”

You give Keegan a smug 'i-told-you-so' look, and thanked the doctor.

Keegan rolled his eyes, while muttering something under his breath. The doctor left the room shortly thereafter, but Keegan still stayed by your side until your pulse returned to normal. As the hours ticked by, Keegan began to fall asleep with his head leaning on your shoulder.

Surprised by how comfortable he seemed, you let him stay there on your shoulder sleeping, watch some TV quietly.

After he falls asleep, he shifts around on your shoulder, leaning his head so that it’s resting against your neck, and his hand wraps around your arm. Not realizing just how tired he was, his breathing starts to slow, and his head rests more comfortably on you. He occasionally sighs or snores quietly, not noticing that he’s become a little more clingy as his body tries to rest.

You glance at him and smile softly at just how tired he seemed and how much he needed this sleep. He must've stayed awake while I was knocked out from not eating... You think to yourself , and wonder why him though, out of all outer soldiers. Why Keegan?

You turn the TV off, and put a small blanket around Keegan's shoulders, and fall asleep as well.

As you fall asleep, you slowly notice that Keegan is beginning to rest a bit more comfortably, his snores growing quieter as he slowly relaxes. The blanket you had put on him was a great idea, as he shifted slightly, getting much more comfortable with its warmth as he continued to sleep. Keegan’s breathing slows down, and he starts making soft noises, as if he was having good dreams.

Hours later, you wake up and see that Keegan was still asleep. Damn, how much sleep does this guy need? Since Keegan is practically holding you down with his arm as he's snuggled up to you, you decided to just stay still and read a book.

As you read your book, Keegan suddenly begins to stir. His eyes open, and he looks around for a moment. That’s when his vision locks on to you, and his jaw drops. Quickly, he blushes, and sits up, trying to move away as if he just remembered that he was still on duty. As embarrassing as it is, his blush is quite cute, as he looked like he genuinely didn’t expect you to be awake, let alone awake and seeing him in that sort of manner.

You glance at him and give him a soft reassuring smile. "How's your beauty sleep?" You ask, going back to reading the book.

Now that he’s a little more awake, Keegan smiles back, relaxing considerably. Though he’s still a little embarrassed to even make eye contact with you, letting out a small sigh of relief.

“Y-Yeah, it was a g-good sleep.” I-I, um..” He said, clearly stilted with his words, especially thanks to his blush being pretty obvious on his cheeks.

"it's okay, I know you needed it." You reassure him, setting the book down as the doctor comes in. Keegan is taken aback by the sudden entrance of the doctor, and goes a bit redder again.

“You two seem to be bonding quickly,” The doctor says with a soft chuckle. “And his heart rate looks to be much more normal than it had been when you entered.”

“I-it’s n-not like th-that!” Keegan said, suddenly unable to form a proper sentence without stuttering. The doctor laughed, trying not to be obvious at the fact that he’s clearly flustered.

Eventually, the doctor leaves again. Though Keegan was still in the room with you, and was now shifting his gaze to the floor in embarrassment. He was completely speechless, though the amount his cheeks were blushing were still obvious to you.

You pat his shoulder. "Hey, it's okay. It was just a small thing anyway. I'm sure you'll go back to being your usual stoic self" you chuckle, and then glance around the room, wondering what to do.

Keegan is silent for a moment, before speaking up. He opens his mouth, closes his mouth, and then opens it again, hesitating in between his words.“I- um….” He says, before taking a deep breath, “.. I- I guess I was just surprised… I wasn’t expecting us to be.. uh…”

You raise a brow, and the doctor comes back in unexpectedly. "Sorry to interrupt, but uh Keegan... Your captain needs to talk to you"

Keegan looked back to the doctor in surprise, and quickly stood up, straightening his demeanor and adjusting his outfit. “Gotcha. Sorry to put you through that,” He said with a slight chuckle, “Guess I’ll be back then.”

He gave you a small, soft smile and the tiniest wave before walking out of the room. A few minutes later, you hear him yell, “Come on, everyone! The Captain wants us assembled in the Mess Hall in five!”

You chuckle to yourself, hearing how Keegan was back to his normal self and sighed. It was boring to be in the medic, but you did feel a bit better. Maybe I should have kept eating...but it was so hard to just simply put food in my mouth at that time. Maybe I should have asked for help. Nah, I don't want anymore trouble because of me...

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

A/n: yeah idk how to feel about the ending lmao

[the-guilty-writer]

hey! i know that you stated you would be willing to write about an ED recently, would it be possible to maybe do a teenage daughter (maybe reid’s?) being comforted by both him and garcia? both are my comfort characters and i feel like garcia would just be so helpful and her and reid are a dynamic duo. the context of the ED can be in any way that is comfortable for you to write (this is just me wishing that i had comfort for my eating issues when i was younger)

How about some headcanons? (I feel like I should do these more often. Sometimes they're more comforting than fics.) Every person with an ED finds different things comforting, so take what you like and discard what you don't.

TW: Spencer and Garcia helping you with an eating disorder

Spencer puts together the best team for you possible and he comes with you to all your appointments even if it means missing work.

He knows you're scared so he does whatever he can do to make you feel more comfortable- hugs you, holds your hand, plays with your hair- literally anything to make it as low-stress as possible.

If he's on a case then Garcia goes with you.

She's the same way- it's constant hugs and hand squeezes and telling you how strong and brave and amazing you are.

Spencer knows that punishment or force are going to get you nowhere.

So that dietition that told him to force you to eat certain things? yeah he never made you go back to them.

Garcia lmade sure that their 5 star rating on google was pushed down to a 2.

Garcia home-makes everything you are comfortable eating.

She never mentions it though- not how much time she spent making it, or what it contains, or even that she knows it's something you're comfortable with.

She just makes it and puts it in fun colored temperware for you (never see through containers if those cause issues for you).

She also makes fun stickers for anything store-bought to cover up the nutrion facts.

Comes up with the best non-food related nicknames for you.

Derek called you "sweet pea" once and she hit him with her file folder so hard he had a bruise for a week even though he didn't know.

Spencer and Garcia both give you constant words of affirmation.

Texts from Garcia right before you go to lunch like "hi little wonder. I'm proud of you not matter what."

Spencer telling you famous quotes based on what he thinks you need that day.

If you have a day that's really bad, Spencer hugs you (but never too tight). If you need to cry he holds you while you cry.

If you need alone time he makes sure to check on you.

If you have a day that's really bad and Spencer is away on a case Garcia drops everything to get you.

She brings you to the office is she has to.

You look at videos of puppies and kittens together in-between her working.

If your dad is gone overnight she will bring you to her apartment or stay at Spencer's depending on what makes you feel comfortable.

Recovery is hard, but it's better with them

[equallyshaw]

star crossed loves au | connor bedard x kailey hughes au ↳ not for the faint of heart. ↳ august, 2021. ↳ masterlist.

warnings: swearing, talks of depression and jack being an ass. also, there is an attempt mentioned + self harm & eating disorder. word count: 2.9k

after the panic attack in kaileys washroom that afternoon, ellen had begun to notice more and more the subtle changes in her daughter's moods and behavior. she saw the lucky go, girl who was always up for anything and everything, begin to become a recluse, quiet and very calculated girl. she saw the light in her daughter's eyes diminish and she didn't know where it all had begun. she grew worried as luke was getting ready to head off to michigan for his freshman year, while she stayed back to complete her senior year.

what was she going to do without her irish and best friend no longer in the house? :

she knew it was the final straw when kailey had declined to hang out with luke before he left, and to forgoe their 'twin day' they liked to call it which they had been doing since b before they moved to michigan where it was just the two of them, with one final day before school started up again. she watched as kailey told him no and then proceeded to head upstairs to nap, which was something she'd been doing a lot of lately. she saw the solemn and defeated look of form on her youngest son's face, and her heart absolutely broke watching him look down at the two tickets he had gotten for a festival in downtown ann arbor. he left the two tickets and headed into he garage, to take a drive. that evening as her and her husband began to get ready for bed, she told him of everything she'd been seeing with their daughter and how she had said no to luke today. to which, luke was shocked with the latter. everybody in their family knew that they gave themselves one day a year to boast in the final summer break hours with each other, and to say no was huge.

"i- i think we failed her jim. i really do. she shouldn't be feeling the way she feels in this house and this town. did we make the wrong decision moving here for jack? do you think we should of stayed in toronto and let jack head off like we had quinn do?" ellen rambled as jim pulled her into his arms. he kissed the top of her head, "she quit her sports too. i should have noticed it last year when she didn't sign up for try outs. when she lied to us and said she just didn't make it. or when she yelled at jack when they both came back from training camps...i should have known. i should have been a better mother." ellen sobbed as jim continued to comfort her. "you're not a bad mother, we are not horrible parents ellen. i promise you. the best thing we can do is be there for her, get her help and continue to show up for her - now more than ever." he said and ellen nodded, wiping her tears. "as for the move, i think about it too. i think about the 'what ifs' and if we made the right decision, and some days i do regret it but we can't go back, we can only move forward hun. we will get through this, kailey will get through this." he said a bit stoically, taking the weight and pressure off of his wife. ellen nodded taking one last look at jim, before the two of them fell asleep.

_

a week later, ellen drove kailey to a therapist out in detroit. she called the school the following day, inquiring if her guidance counselor could talk to her daughter once the first day rolled around, and after that conversation, her guidance counselor referred her to a social worker in detroit for her to go to therapy. kailey was confused more than anything, as to where all of this had come from, but took it with great strides. she could finally breathe for once, because somebody had finally noticed. ellen called quinn that same afternoon to let her know kailey would be going to therapy and hoped quinn could check in with kailey in a week and quinn was shocked, but was relieved that she'd have somebody to talk to and have a safe place to do so. ellen also told him some of what the guidance counselor had said, in particular, the part about jack. which made quinn beyond pissed off, and went into big brother mode.

as soon as the two got off the call, he facetimed his brother. jack's egotistical smile graced the phone screen and then fell, once he saw quinns face. "is everything ok?" he asked and quinn shook his head, "no." he stated. "you are an ass jack, a fucking ass." he began but was cut off by jack, "what the hell man? what did i do now?" jack fought back. quinn made a tsk noise, "what haven't you done. you've treated our baby sister nothing more than a roommate since you guys moved to michigan. you fucking told your teammates or friends, that she was nothing more than a roommate. what the hell jack? you're supposed to protect her and build her up, not tear her down and bully her. do you know where she's headed now because of what you and others say to her? yknow she's bullied at school, right? oh wait no, you don't because nobody told you anything about her life. kailey made sure of that. always having luke to promise he wont say anything, but he's seen it all. he see's how people treat her at school and he has seen how you've treated her as well. yknow she quit lacrosse and soccer because her mental health got so bad last year? she lied to mom and dad and said she didn't make it, but she didn't even go to the fucking try out. instead, she drove new buffalo across the god damn state. because you were at home, she drove three hours to get away from you man! three. fucking. hours." quinn paused taking a deep breathe, "she's headed to therapy jack, because of how immature you are. what do you have against her, huh? what does she have, that you don't? why did you do and say all that you did, man?" quinn questioned as jack took in all of the information.

jack felt tears spring to his eyes as he digested it all, and he swallowed harshly. "its stupid." he mumbled and quinn rolled his eyes. "speak up man." quinn demanded.

"its dumb!" jack said louder now and quinn gave him a deadpanned look, "it cant be that stupid if it's given her years of torment." quinn said irritably. "have you ever thought of life if we hadn't gotten into hockey?" jack questioned and quinn's eyebrows furrowed, "have you ever thought of how life would have played out? the freedom we'd have or the ability to plan our own future?" he added. quinn sighed, as he continued to listen. "its stupid because when we moved to michigan, i was hurting. i didn't or couldn't understand why. i didn't understand when i was supposedly living out my dream of playing for team usa, and dedicating my life and time to the sport that we love. i think apart of me hated that we had to move, or that i did. mom and dad didn't listen to me when i said i'd move there by myself, but then they said that luke has a shot of getting into the program too so it would be easier to move everybody. but they didn't listen to when i asked about kailey, and how she'd adjust. i was hurting because i felt like a burden, because of the way kailey reacted to the move. she began to cry, she began to yell at mom and dad about how they were ruining their lives, and then she began to scream at me. telling me how selfish i was, and how much of a brat i was because we were moving because of me." jack paused to sniffle and wipe a stray tear.

"i was hurt because she was hurt, and then i took my anger and frustration and sadness out on her. which was wrong of me, i now understand and know. when we got there, i took on the burden of having to prove how beneficial it was for me or us to move. had to be number one in order to prove to kailey that it was the best decision. had to show everybody that i was meant to be there. all the while, she was hurting because of me and i was too narrow-minded-" quinn cut him off, "you were a dummy." and jack nodded in agreement.

"once i started to make sly comments towards her and about, it snowballed and i knew it was too far past redemption or apologies. so i rolled with it. i became the villain in her story, and if i could go back now - i'd do it differently. it was not fair or right of me to treat her that way. mom and dad didn't raise me to be that way, and i let them down. i let all of you down, especially kailey."

_

back to kailey:

she sat down in the aesthetically pleasing therapist's office, as her mom waited outside. she sat down in front of the woman her mom had told her about, and how she would be able to help if they were a good fit.

"so kailey, do you know why your mom brought you here today?" the younger woman questioned and kailey nodded. "because im depressed." she stated as her hands clasped together and began to fidget with them. "how long would you say you've been depressed, kailey?" the social worker questioned softly. the blonde girl swallowed counting in her head, "i would say for six years now." she stated and the social worker nodded. "do you know what triggered it? or anything that might have been the start of it?" they questioned sitting back to let the blonde speak.

kailey nodded, "when we moved from toronto to ann arbor for my brother jacks hockey program. my parent's didn't listen when i said i didn't want to move. i didn't want to uproot my life that had finally calmed down." she began, "once we moved, jack became mean. i mean we didn't always get along growing up but enough to where when he began to taunt me, say mean things to me- it was almost as if it was whiplash. i couldn't believe that he'd do such a thing. at the time, i was also mean. i was mean to my parents because i couldn't accept that they'd made this terrible decision. i was mad because they didn't let jack come to michigan like our older brother quinn did, when he joined the same program. and then luke became even more dedicated to hockey as well. it felt like i was losing my support system and Irish twin, but in reality i wasn't. it just felt like i was losing control on the world i had hated for years. hockey took away my brothers. took away my life and family. everything bad that has happened in my life, is because of it. i can't stand to watch it, i only went for my oldest brother - quinns - pro debut in vancouver and then i haven't been to a game since. i even told my other brother luke who will be at michigan this year, that i wont watch his games. i wish him well and hope he doesn't get hurt, but i know that hurts him. i know it. but i cant allow myself to watch it or even think about it." kailey said before taking a pause to breathe.

the social worker spoke up, "it is not unusual for you to have created boundaries. we do that as a coping mechanism, even if other do not see it as such. we do it so we can protect our hearts, our minds and our psyche. you cutting off hockey is not surprising. its a triggering thing for you, which makes sense given your relationship to jack." they paused to change course a bit, "my next question is...have you used those boundaries to in turn harm yourself in anyway?" they questioned. kailey felt as if the air was knocked out of her, as she felt tears form. she swallowed them down, before taking a breath. kailey nodded, before breaking down. the social worker watched for a few seconds, before moving over to the couch next to the girl. the social worker hesitated before wrapping her arms around the girl, who immediately grasped onto her arms. the social worker rubbed her upper back, trying to comfort the girl.

nobody had ever asked her that before, nobody knew the great lengths she had gone to have some sort of control over her life.

"yes." kailey breathed as anxiety coursed through her. the social worker nodded and continued to hold her for a few more minutes, before kailey calmed down. she wiped her tears and took a few tissues that were on the coffee table before her.

the social worker moved back to the other chair and waited for kailey to speak.

"i didn't realize it at first, but I've known for some time that my eating habits aren't healthy. i used food as a way to have some control in my life, when decisions were being made for me and the way that people treated me at home and at school. i used it because i couldn't control my environment. i haven't self harmed myself in a year, since jack left and people began to leave me alone at school. i took their words out on myself, because i felt like i deserved it for whatever reason. i took the way people viewed me to heart, and knew that that was another way i could harm myself." kailey explained, and the social worker nodded.

"how are your eating patterns now?" she asked kailey and the girl shrugged. "could be better, could be worse." she said before she dived into them, and how they had gotten better over the past year but worsened when jack came home for the offseason. the social worker and her dug deep into that conversation, before the social worker had one more question to ask.

"have you ever had an attempt?" they questioned and kailey sighed, before looking away. she had pushed that moment into the back of her mind for so, so long. she didn't like to think of it because it didn't work, and felt embarrassed about it.

"yeah i uh, i was alone a weekend during my sophomore year. jack had one last tournament with team USA and my parents took my brother luke to canada for it. and because i could drive, i stayed back. and I've uh never told anybody that before." she finished before chugging more of the coffee she had brought. the social worker nodded, "so it was just the once?" they clarified and the girl nodded. "i feel ashamed and embarrassed. but i didn't have anybody to call. i couldn't call q because he was canada working, and then i couldn't call luke because he was also with my parents and my best friend becca was living her life back in toronto. i was all alone, and had nobody." she finished and the social worker nodded. "for starters, i want to thankyou for sharing me all that you did today. it is difficult to come into an unfamiliar space with somebody you don't know, and share your deepest secrets and the one's you hide from the world. it takes courage and strength my dear, and those are things you do not lack." the social worker began and they saw a small smile form on the girls pale features. "and i know things will come up as we meet, but how about we come up with a plan for moving forward, things we will do together and what you'll do on your own?" and kailey nodded.

_

kailey waited in the small waiting room for her mom to come out of the office. the social worker wanted time with her mother to talk about what had been shared and their plan moving forward, with the consent of kailey ofcourse- since she was 18. ellen came out with a puffy face and thanked the social worker before the two walked out. ellen took ahold of her daughter's hand as they walked back to the car. the two hopped into the car and ellen sat there as kailey got her seatbelt on. ellen sniffled before looking at her youngest baby before grabbing ahold of her left hand, "im sorry you've had to deal with all of that without anybody knowing. im sorry you've had to carry so much pain, shame and anger these past years here. im sorry that i didn't notice sooner, my love." ellen said as a tear broke through. kailey nodded in acknowledgment taking ahold of her mom's hand with her other, and smiled. "i appreciate that mom, i really do." she smiled before ellen kissed her daughter's temple. she wiped her tears before turning on the car, "how about we go surprise luke for dinner?" and kailey nodded profusely.

im sorry that was so sad ): hope you enjoyed tho!