#Hunger and Fullness Cues

[mostpeculiarmademoiselleetmsieur]

As logical as it may be that hunger is a reaction to high blood sugar because it means all the glucose is sitting in my plasma instead of going into the cells that need it, I still find it really stupid that I get hungry when my blood sugar’s high. Eating’s not going to do me any good right now! It’ll just make things worse!

[rapidhighway]

ououghhh

[ed-recovery-affirmations]

I really like your blog and it’s helping me a lot!! Thank you! I don’t know if you’ve answered this question before, but do you have any tips how to start intuitively eating if I am always hungry and I can’t feel fullness until it physically hurts. Because I really don’t wanna go on a bunch of diets again but I don’t understand how can I eat what I want whenever I want if I am always hungry🥲anyway, thank you for your job!! Wish you all the best ❤️

I wonder what you mean when you say you’re always hungry. Are you in restriction recovery? Because there is a portion of time post-restriction when your body feels immense hunger to try and recover what it lost. This is a phase and, if you continue eating as your body demands, that phase does end. There’s also a point where your stomach is still stretchiest back out to a normal size, so eating as much as you need causes you to feel uncomfortably full. This is also a phase and ends. If this is a new phenomenon, I think it’s possible that these two physical phases are clashing with one another, and so until you can get through it, you need to keep giving your body the nutrients it asks for. Peppermint tea and ginger tea may help make the digestion process more comfortable.

However, if your difficulty with hunger/fullness cues has been ongoing, then you may need to develop some more long-term strategies. Perhaps you can look to other bodily cues in order to judge whether you are hungry. Are you getting signals from your stomach/throat? Are you drinking enough water? Do you feel the shakiness/irritability that comes from hunger? Is it from hunger, or are you getting irritable from other mental health symptoms?

As to learning your fullness cues, maybe try this: eating very slowly, monitor how your stomach is feeling every couple of bites. Try concentrating on what it feels like as your stomach gets more and more satiated, as your emptiness meter goes up and your fullness meter goes down. Start with a smallish portion, but next meal, utilize a slightly larger portion. Go up in portion sizes until you have a general eyeballing ability to judge the physical quantity of food your stomach can digest at one sitting without discomfort, but don’t give up on the method of eating slowly and working to learn to judge different levels of fullness. Then there’s the matter of feeling hungry all the time. I’d recommend that if you are feeling hungry immediately after eating to fullness, maybe check yourself for other possible causes. If you struggle with interoception (understanding the cues your inner body is trying to give your brain) you could be thirsty (many people do not drink enough water and mistake thirst for hunger) or there could be something else going on in your mind or body that is affecting how your stomach feels. Do allow yourself to have small snacks between meals, but try using other bodily cues and see if they align with what your stomach is telling you. Do you feel shaky/irritable before eating the food, and do you feel more stable after eating it? Do you feel energized? Does your stomach feel better to have a little something in it? If you’re not getting those cues, you may be mistaking something else for hunger. If you truly are feeling hungry, and it truly is constant even when you’re eating to the point of being uncomfortably full on the regular, make notes of your eating schedule and what you have tried, and go over those notes with your doctor, because there could be an underlying medical cause if you have extreme hunger that cannot be sated. You could also try consuming smaller portions but snacking throughout the day if the above efforts do not help you. But remember, this is only IF your struggle with hunger and uncomfortable fullness is a lifelong thing and not just caused by the physical reaction caused by restriction recovery. If it’s that, I’m afraid your best option is to ride it out with the peppermint tea.

[puzzled-pegasus]

So you know that running joke on the Argo II about how Percy eats so much and from everyone else's POV it's seen as quirky or unusual? It's quite possible that his open enthusiasm about food is weird to the others because he's actually the only one who's normal/healthy abt food.

Think about it. Leo's been through food insecurity and he may have issues with it because of the way his body looks. He's also a workaholic and generally probably doesn't really have a very good sense of when or what he needs to eat to feel better. Annabeth might be similar, not being able to sense her hunger cues very well because of Trauma (TM) and the way she gets sucked into her hyperfixations.

Piper and Frank might both be conscious about their weight, Piper because of bullying and her Hollywood environment and Frank because he's always been so big naturally and his grandmother probably verbally abused the hell out of him for his weight.

I think Jason skips meals as a form of self-punishment if he doesn't feel like he's earned it. He also wants to make sure everyone else on his team has had what they want to eat before he gets to have any.

Hazel straight up lived in the depression, so food was probably rationed. She was also a girl in the 40s and body shaming was on a whole other level of ridiculous back then so I can't blame her for feeling like she needs to restrict for a few reasons.

And then there's Percy, whose mother did the best she could to make sure her son had a healthy relationship with eating and food. She didn't always have money, but she showed her love through food and treats as much as she could and together they created their blue food tradition. This means that Percy now is excited about food and can probably better measure his hunger cues than anyone else on that ship. This is a good thing not only for him, but if he shows confidence in the way he eats what he likes until he's satisfied and stops when he's full, it might give his friends social cues that they're allowed to eat like he does.

Percy, of course, would be happy to know he's helping them...but right now, he's too excited about those pancakes.

@manygeese @just-call-mefr1es @monarch-of-weird-girlboy-nation @jasonisntboring @erosjournal

[witherby]

*raises hand* more littlest Wayne please 🥺

You got it!

The Littlest Wayne: Jason's Experience

You're a weird baby.

At least, that's what Jason thinks. You don't really cry about anything, you don't whine much except when you're maneuvered uncomfortably or rudely woken up from a nap before you're ready. But even then, it's almost a complaint for the sake of complaining, and not really a full-blown fit.

( It's great for allowing your new, vigilante family to sleep through the night. Horrible for their collective paranoia, which makes them get up to check and make sure you're still breathing through the night anyway. )

You're not deaf — Bruce had you taken in for a full examination and health screening while the ink on your adoption papers were still drying — so that's not why you're quiet, either. Aside from being a touch underweight, likely from whoever cared for you before, it seems like you just don't have much to be upset about.

Jason thinks that weird as fuck. Nobody is neglecting you or anything, but there are times where the lack of hunger cues make one of your brothers realize you haven't eaten since breakfast, or that nobody has checked your diaper in four hours and you've just been chilling in a wet nappy. This makes his monitoring of your general well-being increase ten-fold, to the point that he's the one that spends the most time with you aside from Bruce.

Dr. Leslie insists that some babies are just Like That. Alfred does, too. Their lack of concern helps him be less concerned. But it's still there. Surely there's something a baby would cry about; you're a fuckin baby, and that's, like, your primary job besides eating and sleeping.

He finds out that there is, in fact, something to cry about when he comes back from a week-long job as the Red Hood, having needed to leave the Manor to track down a criminal organization quickly gaining traction that he didn't like the looks of. When he wraps up the last of those loose ends, he steps into his apartment in Crime Alley and digs out his personal phone, switching it on to find dozens of messages from Bruce and his brothers.

Replacement: Dude, u need to get back here ASAP when ur done. The babe is straight tweakin

Eldest Daughter Syndrome: Heyyy lil wing 👋 no rush no rush, but swing by when you've got a sec! Our newest member misses you 🍼

Ninja Wannabe: Todd, your presence is required. Father's newest ward is screaming incessantly without you to entertain their mindless brain. I've retreated to Bludhaven to spare my ears until your return.

B: Stay safe, Jaylad. Adjusting to you being gone is a little tough for the baby, as I'm sure your brothers already told you. I just want you to know that there's no obligation to hurry back. They're okay, and the screaming isn't as bad as everyone is making it out to be.

Alfred: Good day, Master Jason. There is an entire batch of double-fudge brownies with your name on it upon your safe return. Best wishes.

You must be screaming the manor down if Alfred is bribing Jason with junk food, let alone a whole tray of it. He hurries out of his armor with half-concern, half-amusement, showers, then speeds off. In less than an hour, he's pulling into the driveway and parking his bike, and Tim was not fucking lying when he texted him.

Turns out it was good that you weren't a huge crier, because you had pipes that put opera singers to shame. When Jason steps inside, the faint, high pitched whines he heard through the door turn into full-fledged wailing. It's just a matter of following it down a couple corridors before he reaches the day room, which was recently repurposed into one of your play areas. He locks onto the image of one very distressed Dick, face flushed and cotton stuffed in his ears as he desperately jangles a set of plastic keys over your body.

"C'mon, baby bat," he croons, sounding near tears himself, "I dunno what you need. Calm down, honey, please."

You lie on a playmat in front of Dick, paying the toy no mind. Your eyes are squeezed shut, tears are running down your cheeks, your face is ruby red, and your tiny fists are clenched as tight as possible as you kick your legs and wail, and wail, and wail some more. It would be impressive if it weren't concerning.

"Whoa," Jason blurts, stepping fully into the room. Dick spots him and slumps with visible relief, like a puppet with cut strings. "They've been like this the whole time?"

"They were completely fine the first day! But next morning, we saw them looking around for you, and...well." Dick gestures helplessly to your thrashing form. Jason tuts and scoops you into his arms, wincing a bit at your shriek, and starts to gently bounce you.

"Hey, there," he mutters, "what's all this now, weirdo? You didn't have me around to spoon feed you gross baby mush or wipe your butt, and now you're making it everybody else's problem? Huh? That's rude as hell."

Your cries continue a little while longer. Jason continues to talk to you, to call your antics silly, to soothe you, until you finally crack an eye open and register just who it is that's got you in their arms. You stare at Jason kinda like he's an alien, brows furrowed and nose scrunched, but then your wails dissolve into sobs, then little hiccups, then just the occasional sniffle. One of your hands unclenches to latch onto his shirt instead, and you mush your face into his chest.

And you just. Completely stop it. Bruce, Dick, Tim, Alfred, and Damian had fallen all over themselves for days trying to soothe you, and a couple minutes of staring at Jason had completely eliminated the problem.

"You gotta move back to the Manor," Dick blurts from where he remained on the floor, wide-eyed and hands clasped together. "Please come back. Please. I am begging. On my hands and knees if you need it. I will do all your chores for the next year. Do not leave again."

"Not my fault I'm the favorite," Jason huffs, but the protective way he holds you, the concerned way he's checking over your face and throat to see if you hurt yourself crying for so long, the continued bouncing he does for you, all points to him moving back home. He makes the arrangements the next day.

And if Jason makes sure future missions he has to go on don't last more than two days, well, that's no one's business but his own.

You're still a weird baby, though. Even if Jason being your favorite is pretty cool.

[roshni99]

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[ferrarifinnick]

SWITCHING POSITIONS! | THE HUNGER GAMES HEADCANONS

going feral thinking about thg men and their fav positions to put you in. this was so much fun to write and sooo hot 🫢🫢 also this is a lil bit longer than my other thg headcanons. are we loving longer or shorter headcanons pls lmk?? anyway, enjoy <3

includes: gale, finnick, peeta

warnings: sub/dom, switch, p in v, manhandling, teasing, dirty talk, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, cum, creampie.

gale has an insatiable need to overpower you. he likes his body to be on top of yours, pinning you down and threatening to crush you if he ever decides to stop supporting his own weight. he’ll lift your legs over his shoulders in missionary then lean down to kiss you, just so you feel his weight pressing you into the mattress. but he doesn’t just want to weigh you down. no, he wants you to feel powerless. expect him to manhandle you. he’ll toss you around, lifting and bending you into whatever shape or over any surface he desires. and resisting is futile, so if you do, don’t be surprised when he takes hold of your chin and forces you to look up at his disappointed face. “thought you knew better,” is all he’ll say, before he’s lifting you into his big arms and bouncing you up and down on him.

it’ll be too slow, slow enough for you to whine at the punishment, and that pathetic cry is almost enough to bring him to his knees. almost. instead, he’ll say, “oh, so now it’s too slow for you?” with feigned shock. then he’ll shrug and say, “don’t be sorry for what comes next.” cue him pinning you to the mattress, face in the blankets as he rams in and out of your pussy from behind. when you’re crying out at your second orgasm, he’ll say “no tears! you asked for this.”

he comes alive in missionary, standing up cowgirl, and PRONE-BONE (hands on your back, full weight crushing you into the mattress).

when it comes to sex, finnick has very few reservations. despite his sexual past, he will turn very little down for you because for once he feels safety in his sexual explorations. the only nonnegotiable for him is being able to see your face at all times. it grounds him, and more importantly, it encourages him to enjoy sex. like gale, he likes showing off his strength by lifting you up and down on his cock. but finnick is a switch, and he loves the feeling of falling out of power just as much as he loves the feeling of getting it. so when you push him down on the bed (or sand, boat deck, or shower floor), he’ll put up no fight as you climb on top of him and take charge. expect strong eye contact, but don’t blink here or you’ll miss that smirk stretching into a grin. the only time it will disappear is when he’s about to cum. eyes rolled back, throaty moans spilling through his open mouth, and don’t be afraid when he pinches your hips and fucks his own up into you. he just really likes getting deep inside you when he cums.

shines best in standing cowgirl, cowgirl, missionary (he likes watching your face when he first pushes himself inside you).

peeta isn’t fussy. as long as you’re the one who’s over or under him, he’ll be up for anything you want. but being underneath you is his favourite, especially when you get a little bossy and tut at him for trying to push up into you, or when you peel and throw his hands away when he cups your tits without your go ahead. it drives him crazy to be so powerless, and he appreciates every second that he gets to watch you bounce or squat on him, because he knows just how lucky he is that this is his view. but sometimes you go too far. sometimes you pin his hands down for too long, or he’s had enough of your tuttings and teasings. sometimes he thinks you forget that he lets you be in control.

you might miss the dark shift in his eyes when he’s decided you’ve gone too far, but you’ll know it when he has your face pressed into the mattress, strong arms caging you beneath him as he grunts out “think you can tell me off, huh?” between powerful thrusts. “no, peeta,” you’ll cry out, but he’ll ignore you. he’ll keep going, thighs slapping heavily against the backs of your own. “peeta!–” you’ll beg, but this time he’ll tut at you and slide his hand over your mouth. “shh, i didn’t say you could talk, did i,” he’ll say, and when you silently shake your head, he’ll grin and affectionately say “ah, there’s my good girl.”

routinely finds himself in under you in cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, but comes alive in DOGGY!!

sorry but peeta’s makes me GIDDY hehe. please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging. love <3

[fatphobiabusters]

Hey, I wanted to ask if you maybe have any book recs about nutrition that aren't steeped in fatphobia? my friend is trying to learn more about nutrition and change her eating habits, and i want to give her a gift

We spoke separately on this, sorry for the late reply but I can now officially recommend a book for your friends next birthday!

Gentle Nutrition: A Non-Diet Approach to Healthy Eating

Absolutely 10/10 would recommend. It's from a registered dietician, has plenty of sources!

I can't summerize or even list all the topics covered. Here's just a sample:

Introducing intuitive eating, recognizing diet culture, the thinness obsession, the types of hunger we feel, what factors actually contribute to health, diet cycling, hunger cues, why BMI is BS, how to make small changes gradually, the effects of weight stigma and stress on the body.

And so much more.

It introduces so many concepts and issues we touch on here on the blog and questions people have about health and some fat issues. (Not every single issuse but it does tackle the health based fatphobic arguments just by the process of tearing down diet culture. Even mentions medical neglect/fatphobia. Other literature is out there on the full scope of fatphobia and its harms.)

I'm particularly interested in this section. I'm delighted by graphs and then the explanations for them!

Theres so much I want to directly beam into people. My primary complaint is I wish there was MORE advice for people with body cue reading problems. There is some advice but more would be nice.

I also appreciated this:

Im someone who has good textures and bad textures (mild compared to some) but ask me which ones and I'd be stumped because I tell you dishes I like but otherwise ??? So this helps me think.

While flipping through it I keep finding more things to gush about this really is such a good starting point because it will touch on so many weight and diet culture topics.

This is disjointed because this book covers so much I want to try and encourage peopleto check it out but my brain go Brrrr from excitement. It's not perfect, nothing can be but it's just so nice to have a book I can recommend that covers both what you want and doesn't shy away from the complex web of diet culture. It tries to met a new reader where they are and I just Brrrrr. You know?

-mod squirrel

[maxrelaxer]

whats the best way to train myself to always be eating? :))

2 things that I think are good, straightforward places to start by manipulating how your brain interprets cues from your body:

1. Don't eat when you're hungry, eat until you're stuffed and uncomfortably full. Wait until the uncomfortableness passes and you get the slightest bit of room, then eat as much as possible again until you physically can't. Rinse and repeat. Over time you'll completely fuck up your body's hunger cues, and your appetite will increase pretty dramatically. And by then you'll also be used to grazing all through the day to keep yourself topped up.

2. Anytime you're horny or getting yourself off, make sure there's food involved. Always be eating when touching yourself, even if you've just eaten. By doing this you'll Pavlov yourself so that any time you're horny you also get hungry, and vice versa

Best of luck, and I hope you achieve the intended effect (morbid obesity) :)

[queenbrucewayne]

One More Thing

The last two weeks were definitely the busiest you had ever been. One more meeting, one more conference call, don’t forget another spread sheet that had to be filled out.

It was a constant back and forth of once something was finished, another thing had to be started.

Your feet were feeling the aftermath, your shoulders and back were in even more tense pain then normal, and the appetite you had was almost nonexistent.

Alfred tried to help by packing lunches and making you breakfast, but you had been in such a rush to leave in the morning you only had time for coffee and an energy bar. As far as the lunches, you probably would be able to take one or two bites before something else came up and it would go to waste.

It definitely wasn’t healthy, but who really had time to be on a consistent schedule when things were busy.

Taking a deep breath, you leaned back in your office chair, closing your eyes to try and block the light from the headache you could feel coming on.

Today was the last busy day you would be expecting. After having a meeting with your clients and seeing success from these past two weeks of grind, you could finally take a break.

The clock read 2AM, would you even have the energy for a shower? You definitely needed it.

Alfred had probably left your dinner in the fridge and Bruce was likely out and about watching over Gotham.

Bruce…

You hadn’t really seen much of him lately. Between all the late nights and early mornings, he was ether already gone by the time you got home, and sleeping once you had to leave.

A few comments had been made here and there, he asked you multiple times if you were okay with work. Of course the busy you were dealing with didn’t seem like something you wanted to add on to him, especially considering he managed two lives at once. It was better to just leave it with a Im fine or a just a little busy, no big deal.

The last thing you wanted was to make him worry about you, knowing full well he had more important things to focus on.

Grabbing your stuff, you walked towards the elevator to the car garage. Seems like the only people left was the two night security guards.

Once you made it home you walked inside and instantly slipped off your heels. Stretching out your arms, you were surprised to find that the front entrance was dark and it didn't look like anyone was home.

Normally Alfred would great you at the door, no matter how late you got home. You told him multiple times it wasn't necessary to wait up for you, but he would just brush it off and say he would love nothing more than to make sure you got home safe.

You started to walk to the kitchen, the microwave light being your only guide. Opening the fridge you grabbed a quick snack to try and push away the hunger you were feeling. Being way too tired to cook, you grabbed a cheese stick and headed upstairs.

It was times like this you wish you didn't have to suffer going up the big staircase, almost tempting you to just pass out on the couch. The hallway was dark, but what instantly caught your attention was the light coming from your bedroom.

Since it was too early for Bruce to be back, you thought maybe Alfred was still awake. Reaching the cracked door, you peaked inside shocked at the scene in front of you.

The bedroom was lit with candles scattered around the bedroom, a beautiful bouquet of flowers was laid on top the end of the bed. The room itself smelt of a sweet lavender and a hint of eucalyptus, it was a completely different environment then the one you have been spending so much time in the last two weeks.

You walked further inside. Noticing now your favorite pjs were set neatly on your bedside, a bottle of wine and two empty glasses along side it. The bathroom light was on and the sound of water running could be heard.

This seemed a bit too romantic to be Alfred...

Right on cue, the water stopped running and the bathroom door opened wider, emerging Bruce...

He greeted you with a smile, drying off his hands with one of the hand towels. "Hey, I didn't hear you come in."

You didn't know how to react, he was definitely the last person you expected to see. "Uhh. Hi. You’re home?"

"Yeah, I went out for a bit earlier, Nightwing is keeping watch tonight." He was in a set of black sweatpants and wasn't wearing a shirt, his hair was a bit damp which probably meant he just showered.

"Dick is in town?" You spoke up finally.

Walking over to the bedside, he opened the bottle of wine and started to fill the two glasses. "Yeah, he came to visit Barbara and decided to stay for a couple days." Walking towards you he handed one of the glasses to you. Taking a sip himself, he walked to the dresser to look for a clean shirt. "Alfred will be downstairs tonight watching over him, thought I take the time to shower, I have a bath ready for you, and theres even a small cheese tray if you were hungry... Maybe we could watch a movie or-"

He stopped himself when he glanced up to look at you from the mirror in front of him. You hadn't moved from where you were, the glass of wine still in hand, and you had tears falling down your face. He sighed deeply, setting the wine glass down, and walking over to you.

Taking the wine glass from your hand, he set it aside. Slowly wrapping his arms around you and pulling you against his chest.

“Y/n…”

No response.

“Y/n… Please say something. What’s wrong?”

You shook you head, wrapping your own arms around his body. He didn’t say anything else, just stroked your hair gently and waited for you to be ready to speak first.

Once you calmed down, you pulled yourself away and wiped your face. “I’m sorry.”

He took ahold of one of your hands and brought it to his face, kissing the inside of your wrist he looked back to you. “What’s going on?”

Smiling up at him, you started to rub his cheek with your thumb. “Nothing, I’m not sad, it’s happy tears… I guess I’m just tired from the past couple of weeks.”

He looked at you worried now, his furrowed brows almost made you laugh. “Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why would I give you another thing to crowd your mind, it's just work, not important." You looked behind him to the bedroom. "This is amazing."

"Y/n." His tone was serious, making you look back to him. "It is important, especially if this is how it's affecting you."

"Bruce-"

"No, i'm your husband, its my job to take care of you, to worry about you, to make sure that whatever is bothering you doesn't result to this..."

"There is nothing you could've done, work was just needing me more than normal, you were busy with your own stuff, it happens." You shrugged casually, pulling back from him you took the glass of wine he set down and took a sip. Glancing back to him, you notice his expression hadn't change. His arms were crossed and he had his deep thinking face on. "What?"

"Do you think you bother me?"

You hesitated, trying to come up with something to reassure him. Before you could come up with anything he continued.

"You do." He stated. "You truly think I'm bothered by you."

"Bruce, it's just work..."

He nodded. "Yes, your work." Leaning against the door frame, his face held a sadder look now. "Have I made you feel lonely?"

Your eyes widened, taken back by the question. "What? No!"

"Y/n-"

"No!" You raised your voice this time. "I don't want you thinking this is your fault... it's not." You said softer. "This has nothing to do with you, I cried because I was happy, not because I was lonely..."

He stared a you for a moment, then sighing in relief he smiled and walking over to you. Cupping your face gently, he leaned down and kissed you softly. This was what you needed most of all.

It started out gentle, but the more he continued the more desperate his kisses seemed to get. He pulled back and went straight to your neck, and then back up to your lips, roaming his hands now to around your body.

You whined a bit when he pulled back, making him laugh. "Common, your bath water is gonna get cold, we can continue this later."

"Way to get a girl's hopes up.." You mumbled.

"Hey." He spoke up. "I want you to come to me before it gets to this point, I don't want you feeling like this... you don't deserve it. You've helped me with my hard weeks, I wanna do the same... please let me. Just because my mind is filled with Batman and Wayne Enterprises, doesn't mean I don't have the room for my wife."

You hugged him, burying your head into his chest. "Okay, I promise, next time. Which hopefully wont be for awhile... Bruce?"

"Hm?"

"I love you, and thank you. This is what I needed more then anything."

"Even more than the wine?" He teased.

You rolled your eyes, grabbing the wine glass you walked towards the bathroom. "Hurry up and help me get undressed, my bathwater is getting cold."

Bruce smiled. "Yes ma’am."

@christianbalefanatic

[comradeocean]

"I have found myself talking out loud to you, hoping you can hear me" is a bonkers way for a celebrity to begin a public memorial statement less than 24 hrs after the death happened by someone who has possibly not personally spoken to the dead person in question for almost ten years. I cannot stop thinking about it.

In 2013, Channel 4 did a documentary called Crazy About One Direction that featured a number of high octane waaaay out there fans. I think the band was asked about it during an interview; Louis and the others basically disavowed it, saying it was an unfair representation of girls who like One Direction and the fanbase in general. He wasn't being totally selfless in sticking up for the fans, because some of those girls were profoundly sad and lonely, maybe unwell. And if your mission is to be marketed as a fun-loving carefree boyband, the last thing you'd want to be associated with are young, maladjusted, friendless girls.

Anyway, at one point, one of the girls interviewed says:

Twitter is like a prayer place. When you go to a prayer place, you feel like you’re connected to God. So when you’re on twitter, you feel like you’re connected to 1D. You just have hope. [audio description alt-text: an image of Louis as Jesus Christ]

Zayn is also the only one of the boys to have crossposted his message to twitter.

The thing about One Direction being an accident, sure, a manufactured accident, but an accident nonetheless, is that they were guileless going in, and it showed. I've been mainlining old videos this week, trying to compare those early xfactor days with their contemporaries who were trying to break out around the same time. With everyone else, it was always a band full of Liams: intensely driven little freaks. Sorry, freak is maybe too mean a word to describe that particular mix of hunger and desperation to be accomplished, to be famous, and at the bottom of it all: to be liked. There's been a conscious shaping of the persona in service of those goals: they've learned to dance, to perform, to give pitches, soundbites, hit camera marks on cue. Most of them were also older, in their early to mid twenties. It's not inconceivable to imagine such a trajectory for the most diehard theatre kid you knew from school who decided after uni or whatever ~ to follow their dreams ~. That was the more typical boyband background. (not Liam though. lad was fourteen. he was closer to another subspecies of the genus: the child star)

And 1D in contrast were unpracticed, unstudied, as Zayn put it in that slightly off-kilter way of his (which I always imagine to be indicative of a disjunction between the vocabulary one encounters in school and what everyone around them is used to speaking), "novice children."

Like, truly, they did not give a fuck cos it hadn't yet occurred to them they were supposed to. Liam aside, industry norms were a complete mystery to them, and for many years, they managed to inhabit that sweet spot of flippancy without contempt, whether it was about the project, themselves, or their audience. Liam tells the story about being the go-between for xfactor stylists and the boys and getting into so much trouble on their behalf for wearing human-sized babygrows during a video diary. "Because Westlife would never wear those." [The punchline he then delivers is that Westlife members were pictured wearing onesies soon after. (quite possibly due to how viral anything 1D-related got)]

The boys were so immature. The whole boyband thing had fallen into their laps. They were just happy to be there! This thing that they didn't even know they wanted, they somehow got, and it took the shape of four other boys in exactly the same situation. It comes across very strongly how taken they were with themselves and each other. Find yourself a guy who looks at you the way blah Larry Stylinson blah blah Ziam blah blah blah. Never mind that cos they were all actually so hyped with each other. Any time any of them says anything remotely clever, or funny, or notable, the rest of them lose their shit like they're in on the same hilarious joke. Even if there was no actual joke. Their entire existence at that point was the joke bc how on earth had they landed from where they'd been — small deadend towns hollowing out from deindustrialization — to where they ended up — the xfactor house headed for the very top about to win it all, in the way they did — saved from bootcamp elimination at the last minute, with who they did — four other working class boys they would have never been friends with in another life. It must have been a high like a kind of limerence, like finding long lost family members on the exact same wavelength, like love.

And that was the other key thing about the stratospheric rise of One Direction. We didn't love One Direction only because we loved this or that member. We loved them because they loved each other, because they loved themselves, because they loved us. And they used the internet to show it.

In 2010, mass social media platforms were in their nascence, which is to say, the exploration of how to be a person, with other people, online, at a broad level not limited to specific subcultures, was in its nascence. For many years now, given the levels of extreme over-exposure, the dominant mood has become the mortifying ordeal of being perceived and so on. We've somehow all adopted mini-celebrity mindsets of our own, weary of being exposed to the maw of an unseen public. To be known is to be surveilled.

But the boys individually and at the collective level invited surveillance back then. Because the inverse — to be surveilled is to be known — seemed more relevant for that moment, at the beginning. They made a point of living their newfound lives at least partially online.

They were constantly on twitter, they livestreamed with a dedication that rivaled x-factor video producers, and none more so than Liam. It was already reality tv, this was just the next bleeding edge of "real": the unfiltered, unedited, direct sharing of yourself and what you loved in the last days of the old free-as-in-freedom internet.

When they said, over and over again, that it was all about the fans, it was meant in a very literal sense. Social media and the reality it created produced a feedback loop between the love they had for each other and the band, and the love we had for them, until it was inseparable: their relationships, our relationships, the process itself. Parasociality as it is currently manifested might have found its first mass expression through One Direction.

In separate interviews from This is Us (2013) deleted scenes, Liam and Louis say that Zayn wears his heart on his sleeve. Yet within the best-friends-slash-brothers-for-life schema cultivated as the One Direction vibe, he did not seem necessarily exceptional in his frequent declarations of love and fellow-feeling for various band mates. What he did ultimately end up doing was pulling the trigger on the contractual form their relationships were bound within, such that the I-love-you's inevitably passed from unpracticed to rote to a mandatory matter of their livelihoods. Someone had to be the first to explicitly and consciously decide that this "love" was no longer something they could continue participating in.

From the same set of deleted interview, in a somewhat fitting twist of symmetry, Louis and Zayn go on and on (much longer than Niall or Harry) about how Liam had been the serious and sensible one, but they've managed to corrupt him a little. It makes sense to assume that Zayn is referring to the band in general, but one can also read it to mean the two of them specifically, being the eldest, and their meta-cognition of the terms and conditions imposed by One Direction as a phenomenon.

The love the members of One Direction had for each other and the band and the fans was undeniably "real." The making of that "realness" was conditioned by the x factor throwing together four boys who had very little reference for what the fuck they had gotten themselves into, and Liam. Liam was the intermediary. He was already a creature twisted up and contorting, trying his level best to wedge himself into whatever spaces there could be found in the juggernaut of the entertainment industry. His neuroses and anxieties made the rest of One Direction possible, made One Direction "real" and "not like the other boybands" because that DNA, that what-not-to-do instruction manual could just be crammed into him, and the rest of them could be let loose into the world, unburdened by expectation, free to not give a fuck.

Louis and Zayn's raw, unpolished, typo-ridden letters were the most direct and irrefutable way they knew to swear fidelity to the boy they knew, the band they built, and the lives they lived together. The unfathomable ether of the internet, of the fans, of the massed publics seen and unseen made them, it destroyed their senses of self in ways they could weather until they couldn't, and it's into this ether they send their words, their grief, something real of themselves. Because in the universe of One Direction, this is the orthopraxis by which one proclaims one's faith and one's hopes. This is the prayer place that transcends distance, time, even death. This is how their brother could somehow, some way, still feel their love.

[joelmillermylove]

His little secret pt.1

dbf!joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel offers to drive you home after a family dinner with him and your parents, but instead he drives you back to his place to have some alone time.

Warnings: 18+ smut, age gap (Joel in his 40s and reader in her late 20s), Secret relationship.

Word count: 1,076

A/N: I haven’t been active for awhile been dealing with my mental health, sorry! I’m now starting to get back in the groove! Luv you guys, hope you enjoy!💕

︵‿︵‿୨♡ ୧‿︵‿︵

It’s Saturday that means family dinner night. You would usually dread family dinner but your parents invited Joel Miller over and little did they know for the past few weeks you’ve had started up a secret relationship with Joel; your dads best friend.

That night Joel offered to drive you back to your apartment because it was so late and your parents being completely blind thought that was so nice of him, But joel doesn’t take you back to your apartment he’s takes you to his place for some alone time.

When you get to his place you go straight to his bedroom. Joel sits on the end of his bed as you Lean against the door frame.

“Come here darlin” as he gives you a devilish smirk.

You giggle and walk over to him, when you get close enough to him he grabs your hips and pulls you in between his knees. You wrap your arms around his neck as His warm rough hands softly run up and down your back under your shirt as it leaves you with goosebumps on your skin.

His eyes searched yours, a warm smile playing on his lips as he reached for the hem of your shirt.

Your heart raced as his fingers brushed against your skin, the fabric of your shirt sliding upward with a whisper of movement. The warmth of his touch sent shivers down your spine, and you couldn't help but gasp softly as he revealed more of your body to the soft light. Joel's gaze followed the path of his hand, lingering on every inch of exposed flesh as if he were committing the sight to memory.

"You’re all i thought about all day" he murmured, his voice thick with desire. His eyes met yours again, full of adoration and hunger "you're so beautiful, my sweet girl".

As Joel continued to lift your shirt, his thumbs grazed the sensitive skin of your stomach, causing your muscles to quiver involuntarily. He noticed your reaction and paused, a smoldering look in his eyes that spoke volumes without a single word. The air between you grew heavier, charged with anticipation. His thumbs traced circles around your navel before moving upward, pausing at the base of your ribcage, teasing the fabric just beneath your breasts.

The room felt like it was spinning as he gently pushed the shirt over your shoulders. It fell to the floor, leaving you in just your bra and jeans. Joel moves closer, his warmth enveloping you. His hands slid around your back, his fingers deftly unhooking the clasp with a click that seemed to echo through the room. The bra straps slid down your arms, and your breasts fell into his waiting hands. He cupped them gently, his thumbs brushing over the hardened nipples, eliciting a soft moan from your lips.

Your eyes closed as you leaned into his touch, the heat of his palms sending waves of pleasure through your body. Joel took this as his cue to kiss you again, his mouth moving with a fierce tenderness that stole the breath from your lungs. His hands began to roam, exploring the curves of your back and the dip of your waist, leaving a trail of fire wherever they went.

Suddenly, you felt his hands at the button of your jeans. The zipper rasped open, and he pushed the denim down over your hips. His touch grew more urgent, his breathing ragged against your neck as he peeled the jeans away, leaving you in just your panties. You stepped out of the fabric puddle at your ankles, your legs trembling slightly from the intensity of the moment.

Joel moving back, his gaze raking over your almost-bare body. "Perfect," he breathed, his eyes dark with want. He reached out to trace the waistband of your panties, his thumbs hooking into the material. You could feel the tension in his fingers, the restraint he was fighting to maintain.

The anticipation was almost unbearable. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but also incredibly desired and comforted. Your eyes locked onto his, silently begging for more, for him to make the next move. Joel's smile grew, and he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "I need you" he whispered.

His eyes moving back to find yours again, then over every inch of your exposed flesh. The room was so quiet, you could hear the thunderous beating of your heart, the rush of blood in your ears.

Joel's hands found their way back to your body, his touch feather-light as he traced the curve of your hip and the dip of your waist. He knelt before you, his eyes never leaving yours, and kissed the soft skin just above your navel. The sensation was exquisite, and you had to bite back a gasp.

Slowly, with the utmost care, he slid your panties down your legs, leaving you completely naked before him. You felt his hot breath on your skin as he kissed a trail up your thigh, his hands ghosting over your calves and the back of your knees, sending shivers up your spine.

Standing back up, Joel wrapped his arms around your waist, his forehead resting against yours. "You're mine," he whispered, his voice a mix of awe and possession. The words sent a thrill through you, a heady mix of fear and excitement.

With trembling hands, he removed his own shirt, revealing his muscular chest with just a hint of silver in his chest hair, the thought of him that had haunted your dreams. His pants followed, and you couldn't help but stare at the perfection of his body, the way the light played across his skin. He stepped closer, closing the distance between you, and you could feel the heat of his arousal pressing against your stomach.

Joel reached down to trace the line of your jaw with his thumb, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. The intensity in his eyes was almost too much to handle, but you couldn't look away. His other hand found the small of your back, drawing you closer until there was no space left between you. His chest was a wall of heat, and you could feel his heart pounding in time with yours.

"It’s just you and me darlin" he says softly resting his forehead against yours “you and me”.

To be continued…. 😉

[witherby]

First of all I LOVE your works i love how much effort you put into them!! You’re keeping this community aliveeee. Second, what would the batfam do if punchline cried? Like I’m talking out of no where just straight up cried. I know it must be hard to show emotions such as sadness because of her past and it would be hard to show such vulnerability to anyone. Thanking for listening to my Ted talk 😎

First of all thank you so much! I wish I could write full, one-shot-length replies to every single question I get asked, but sometimes I simply don't have the energy or skill to execute the idea that might manifest from that question!

Second of all, that's a great question! I think it would take an absurdly long time for anybody to catch her crying. I think it would take an absurdly long time for her to cry at all!

Punchline has Congenital Analgesia, so pain wouldn't make any tears well up. She also doesn't feel or notice any appropriate hunger cues, so exhaustion or starvation wouldn't do it either, especially because she's almost perpetually existing in that state anyway.

We also have to consider who her father is, and how she was raised. A lot of her childhood is left to speculation because she's not exactly opening up to people about the Joker's treatment of her. And why would she? In her eyes, he can do no wrong. Anything he has ever said or done to her was completely justified. What's the sense in crying over spilled blood? She just needs to do more. Try harder. Be greater. But not better. She can't be better than her Popsy. Nobody is better than Popsy!

It's difficult to find out what her triggers are when she isn't giving the bat family much to work with. That's not her job, it's theirs to find out and learn from, but the entire situation is layers upon layers of complicated.

When they first take in Punchline, she's roughly 8 years old and some change. I think they'll see her cry for the first time when she's 10.

Punchline doesn't know her birthday. The Joker didn't celebrate it. The bats don't know it, either, so they choose to celebrate her with the day they brought her to the Manor. They make a cake and set up a small surprise party, with things they know she likes such as more face paint, colorful clothes, books, and maybe some new accessories like bows and ribbons. She wouldn't know how to handle that. A party for her? What did she do? How did she earn this?

I think Punchline would cry over being celebrated just for being alive. She's never felt that way before.

[comicaurora]

As an autistic person with sensory issues, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR EXPLAINING WHAT HUNGER FEELS LIKE. You have no idea how difficult it is to get an explanation. Internet didn't help because it's just assumed that EVERYONE knows what it feels like. (Which, like, I get it, but sensory issues isn't just about the five senses! It can also be things like hunger and thirst!) And in RL people for some reason assumed that I wasn't looking for an answer?? BTW, can you explain thirst and tiredness? Please?

Huh, happy to help!

Thirst is a little more difficult to pin down. In my experience it can manifest most simply as minor discomfort swallowing, like a stickiness in your throat. Mentally, the cues that you're thirsty can be as simple as the thought of a cool drink suddenly seeming really appealing; as a rule of thumb, if I suddenly start thinking about juice or soda, I drink a full glass of water and then see if I still want the sweet drink too. If you're quite dehydrated, your head might hurt, like a feeling of pressure behind your forehead.

Tiredness can also manifest as a similar headache, but I usually feel tiredness in and behind my eyes as a pressure or ache, or even a stinging if I've been staring at a screen too long.

[lexiputellas]

The Art of Losing

part 1, part 2

Paige took you to dinner that night, a cute, dimly lit restaurant that oozed charm. You dressed for the occasion—a skirt, thigh-high boots, the perfect mix of effort and danger.

What Paige was going to do? Well, she was going to suffer.

That was the goal, after all. Two could play this game.

The food was amazing, but Paige was better. She talked—really talked—about her fear of going pro, about changing cities, about everything that kept her up at night. And for the first time in a long time, you just listened.

No snark, no teasing—just her voice filling the space between us two.

It was… hot.

Not in a typical way, but in the way vulnerability sometimes is, when someone bares themselves in front of you and trusts you to hold the weight of it.

The only problem? You were trying really hard not to think about how insanely attractive she looked while doing it.

Your brain, the absolute traitor, kept drifting to the idea of her taking you apart right there at the table, which, given the circumstances, was wildly inappropriate. But in your defense, you never claimed to be a saint.

After dinner, you ended up in a bar that could only be described as sticky, the floors, the air, probably the bartender too.

Paige swore up and down she could destroy you in bar games.

She was wrong.

Turns out, years of college drinking and questionable relationships left you with one very specific skill set: you owned bar games. Pool, darts, beer pong, you name it.

You picked up the cue stick, lined up a shot—and missed.

Badly.

Paige tilted her head, smirking. “That was tragic.”

You sighed dramatically, pouting just enough to sell it. “I might need some help.”

Her smirk deepened. “Oh yeah?”

You nodded, feigning helplessness. “It just seems really hard.”

That was a trap. You knew it.

And Paige, the poor thing, walked right into it.

She stepped behind you, close enough that her body pressed against yours, hands sliding over yours on the cue stick. “Here,” she murmured, her voice low, warm. “Let me show you.”

Oh, this was worth throwing the game for.

Her hands guided yours, but all you could focus on was how close she was, her breath on your neck, the slow, deliberate way she moved. Her voice was low, almost teasing. “You have to grip it just right.”

Oh, she was doing this on purpose.

You swallowed hard. “Like this?”

She hummed, adjusting your grip with a slow drag of her fingers over yours. “Mmm, almost.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears. This was torture. Delicious, maddening torture.

“Now,” she murmured, voice dipping lower. “Keep your stance steady.”

Her hands slid down, adjusting your hips, and—yeah, okay. This was no longer about pool.

Your next shot, unsurprisingly, missed.

Paige grinned against your ear. “Maybe we should keep practicing.”

And that’s when you lined up your next shot. This time, you sank it effortlessly.

Paige blinked. “Wait. What?”

You grinned, tossing the cue stick onto the table. “Oh, I knew how to play the whole time.”

Paige stared at you for a solid three seconds before groaning. “You’re impossible.”

Before you could think of something to say, she grabbed your wrist, tugging you toward the back door of the bar. The alley was quiet, dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of rain on pavement. Before you could make a comment about how cliché this was, she had you pressed against the brick wall, her body crowding into yours.

“Oh,” you breathed, grinning up at her. “So this is where the night was heading?”

Paige smirked, one hand dragging up your thigh, fingers teasing at the hem of your skirt. “You wore this for me?”

You tilted your chin up, feigning indifference. “What if I did?”

Paige’s breath hitched, her lips ghosting over yours. “Then I might have to take full advantage of that.”

Your hands tangled in her shirt, pulling her impossibly closer. “About time.”

And then she kissed you. No warning, no hesitation—just heat and hunger, her hands firm as they pressed into your hips, her thigh slipping between yours in a way that had your head spinning. The kiss was all teeth and urgency, like she was making up for lost time. Like she had been waiting for this as long as you had.

You gasped as her lips moved to your neck, her breath hot against your skin. “Paige—”

You grinned, tilting your head to give her better access. She pulled back just enough to look at you, her fingers still tracing slow patterns against your thigh. “And you thought I’d let you leave like this? Not a chance."

The moment stretched, heavy and electric, before you tugged her closer, your voice dropping to a whisper. "Come home with me."

Paige’s breath hitched, her grip tightening. "Lead the way."

[fucking-solar]

Smooshed in a Kiss (NSFW)

Cybertronian x Reader, Rodimus x Reader x Drift, yada yada

// size difference, g/t, spit kink I guess?

Read below

It’s surprising how warm they were. It was something you couldn’t help but notice while squished between their chests. They almost didn’t seem to notice you at first, enraptured by each other. You listened to Rodimus’s whimpers and whines as Drift devoured his mouth with hunger, drool spilling out of the corners of their lips.

Fangs got caught in the light when they parted, Rodimus venting steam as he licked away his drool. He tilted forward, squishing you further, to do the same for Drift. A soft moan escaped him at the taste before he pressed another kiss to his lips. Drift nipped at him and he pulled back before he could get dragged into another kiss. Not that he would have minded.

Rodimus leaned back slightly, Drift following subconsciously, and you were lifted into their line of sight. An embarrassed flush flashed through your body at their gazes, still hungry and full of desire.

Always an initiator, Rodimus tilted to press his lips to your chest. Drift took the cue and did the same to your back, soft and gentle. It was different from how he was with Rodimus earlier but you didn’t mind. Hot lips moved up to tease along your neck, a gasp of surprise leaving your lips. The yellow hand holding you up tightened around your waist at the quiet noise.

A burning glossa ran over your neck and there was a stifled moan, but not from you. The bots’ lips, you realized, almost encased your neck. A kiss that was barely disrupted by your own body. Their glossa slid over your skin as they tried to seek each other out. Slobber and spit slid down your shirt, sticky and smelling almost metallic. You didn’t mind.

Your tiny hands grappled onto Rodimus’s hands to steady yourself as your body was rocked and pushed between their mouths. Drift shifted up and Rodimus chased after him, pushing his lips up against yours in a frantic kiss. He was too large to follow but the feeling of his hot lips and glossa against your’s made you shiver and moan. Drift tilted your head so Rodimus was more or less making out with your cheek, whining desperately, and chuckled.

The white mech pressed a kiss to your other cheek. It was still soft and careful, much too mindful of your small stature where Rodimus wasn’t. The Prime nipped at your skin gently then dragged his tongue along the side of your face, the heat rushing to your face making you feel dizzy. Drift copied the action to the other side and you choked on a whine. God, their mouths were so wet.

A digit slipped under your shirt as the two pressed their lips harder against your head, a gasp forced from your lips. Rodimus wasted no time pushing his glossa between them. It was cool, weirdly enough, as it moved over your tongue and barely began to stretch your lips out while it pushed deeper. Drift caressed your side and stomach with his digit while he kissed and marked your jaw lightly.

Primus, you could never get used to this.