#covid-19 pandemic stress

[coralpenguincherryblossom]

covid and mental health

By Rachel Shannon

Everyone can relate to the fact that covid was a stressful period in our human existence. Some people struggled more than others but no hardship should be weighed or compared to one another's. It was both a tribulation and a learning experience. Before covid, we lived in a very rushed Society. The work day was 9-5 Monday through Friday, we never thought to challenge it. Now post covid, some people don't work on Mondays or have half a day on Fridays, or some people work completely remote which never used to be an option. We now take more time for our emotional health and embrace therapy which for decades previously was considered taboo.  To get to this point, Society had to face some tough adversities which include mental health decline in Victoria Australia, harsh discriminatory challenges for Asian Americans, and radical transitions for college students. These three scenarios are just a few examples of some of the many ways in which covid impacted our mental health. These situations brought awareness to the way we view and treat mental health.

Since covid, intentional self-harm rates skyrocketed in Victoria Australia due to lack of employment opportunities and social isolation. While young people are less susceptible to covid, the pandemic did disproportionately affect their psychosocial development, as social connectedness and social identity are important factors in youth. Suicide attempt hospitalization rates ranged from 77.4 to 97.9 events per 100,000 population between 2012-2013 and 2019-2020. Rates were higher outside of urban areas. It is estimated that the self-harm hospitalization rates in Greater Melbourne was 75.9 per 100,000 population compared to 112.0 per 100,000 population in the rest of Victoria. The Victorian mental health system was extensively evaluated by the Royal Commission on the advice of the Victorian government. The Royal Commission found  that the state's mental health system was unable to respond to the needs of the people suffering from mental illness or psychological distress, unsuitable to meet current and future demands, and an urgent need for reform. 

“Pre-existing individual factors, such as poorer physical health, a history of chronic illness, or pre-existing mental health problems, have been associated with higher rates of anxiety and depression during COVID-19. Other individual factors may be important too, for example introverted individuals are somewhat less likely to have high quality social support systems compared to extraverts. Consistent evidence shows that adults experiencing pre-existing socio-economic disadvantages face increased mental health problems related to COVID-19.” (Westrupp,”et al.”2023)

While Westrupp explains that pre-existing conditions occurred in parents and children in Victoria before covid, these conditions were made worse from government restrictions and shutdowns.

Since covid, the Asian-American population have faced intense racial discrimination which include verbal harassment and physical assault. This is mainly due to media outlets blaming China for the pandemic.  A recent Pew Research Center report found that approximately 31% of Asian American adults reported being the subject of slurs or jokes because of their race or ethnicity, and about 58% of Asian American adults shared that it is more common for people to express racist or racially insensitive views about Asians than it was before the covid-19 outbreak. The increase in racial discrimination against Asian Americans during the covid-19 pandemic has also contributed to covid-19 discrimination fear, which exacerbated mental health problems such as depression and anxiety. 

“Anti-Asian racism has always been present in the US society for over 150 years, though it has been encoded in different vocabulary and language in different periods of time.”(Adachi,2022).

Adachi explains that the “Yellow Peril” which is described as western fears of Asians, especially Chinese, would invade their land and disrupt western values, started as far back as the 1870s. Although these fears already existed, there has been an uptick in racial discriminatory acts since covid due to media outlets and politicians. 

Covid took a strain particularly on college students. College is already a stressful time for young adults then covid added the pressure of social distancing, working remotely and in extreme cases leaving their dorm and finding residence elsewhere. Many may argue that stress among college students is unrelated to covid and that it’s been an ongoing issue for some time. McLafferty writes that a survey was conducted of students who attended college in Northern Ireland in the fall of 2019, then again a year later found that high levels of mental health problems were already present among students commencing college. Although college students were already struggling before the pandemic, it’s important to understand that covid exacerbated pre-existing mental health conditions.

“Students assessed post pandemic reported significantly more symptoms of anxiety and depression than students assessed pre pandemic, and these two cohorts are reporting more symptoms in many areas than a cohort of students assessed 25 years earlier.”(Nails,2023). 

In conclusion, the COVID-19 pandemic made the Victorian government aware of the urgent need for better mental health care for their people, brought to light the racial injustice of Asian-Americans, and showed the massive strain covid had on college students. These three situations highlight the severity in which covid affected our mental health. After the pandemic, it was realized that mental health care was at the bottom of the list of priorities. This awareness led to changes such as flexible working conditions and more need for therapy. Therapy also became more available remotely. Not only should we spread awareness on the issue of mental health but we should also take combative steps to help such as make therapy more affordable and hire more mental health providers. Unfortunately it took this catastrophic event to make us open our eyes. With this better awareness and understanding, we as a society can tackle mental health issues head on. 

Vacher, C., Ho, N., Skinner, A., Robinson, J., Freebairn, L., Lee, G. Y., Iorfino, F., Prodan, A., Song, Y. J. C., Jo-An Occhipinti, & Hickie, I. B. (2022). Optimizing Strategies for Improving Mental Health in Victoria, Australia during the COVID-19 Era: A System Dynamics Modelling Study. International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health, 19(11), 6470. https://doi.org/10.3390/ijerph19116470

Westrupp, Bennett, Berkowitz, Youssef, Toumbourou, Tucker, Andrews, Evans, Teague, Karantzas, Melvin, Olsson, Macdonald, Greenwood, Mikocka-Walus, Hutchinson, Fuller-Tyszkiewicz, Stokes, Olive, Wood, Feb2023, child, parent, and family mental health and functioning in Australia during COVID-19: comparison to pre-pandemic data

Huang, C. J., & Huang, C. Y. (2023, December 21). The Moderating Role of Emotion Regulation Strategies on Asian American Parents’ Discrimination Experiences and Mental Health During the COVID-19 Pandemic. American Journal of Orthopsychiatry. Advance online publication. https://dx.doi.org/10.1037/ort0000714

Adachi, Nobuko, 2022, Yellow Peril Redux: Vitalizing Pre-Existing Racial Conditions with a New Symbol

Nails, Julianna. “A Crisis in College Student Mental Health? Self-Ratings of Psychopathology Before and After the COVID-19 Pandemic.” American Psychological Association, American Psychological Association, 11 Nov. 2023, psycnet.apa.org/record/2023-78779-001

McLafferty, Ward, Walsh, O’Neill, Bjourson, McHugh, Brown, McBride, Brady, Murray, Nov 2023, College Student Mental Health and Wellbeing Prior to and during the COVID-19 Pandemic

[maxwinchxster]

I miss when my biggest worry was a global pandemic killing me…

[shayarigateway]

Coronavirus | Lockdown | Anti stress poetry | Best Urdu Poetry Collection | DUA FOR CORONAVIRUS | Shayari | shayari | sad shayari | love shayari | urdu shayari | poetry in urdu | urdu poetry | prayer for corona coronavirus | Teri Hai Zameen Tera Aasman T

[anyonghalimaw]

i rlly do not think white global northerners understand how fucking bad the anti sinovac psyop was in context of the philippines and other targeted countries being from the global south, with a history of economic and military intervention and destabilization by the usa specifically.

i live in the philippines and sinovac was the only available vaccine for MONTHS of the pandemic. people were fucking dying and we had no pfizer, no j&j, no astrazeneca, no moderna. sinovac was the ONLY vaccine supply we had. and the supply wasnt even enough for even my small city. we do not have the infrastructure to manufacture our own vaccines and tests. we were entirely reliant on imports from other countries who Did have the capacity to manufacture such things

i got up early for several days straight to go to a pop up walk in vaccination site (were talking there by 7:30am) set up in a fucking public basketball court because it was the only way to get vaccinated, and 3 times i had to go back empty handed so to speak after exposing myself to this massive opportunity for transmission because they fucking ran out of shots and prioritized the elderly and disabled and i didnt have my legal pwd (person with disability) card yet. i had to go to a different barangay (local unit of government) to get my shot MONTHS LATER and only got mine because one of my family was in the local govt and reserved some shots for us.

many filipinos use facebook which is where some of the psyop was conducted because you can use it for free on your phone and it is often where news is disseminated. i know we have that joke about People Believing Anything They See On Facebook but i cannot stress enough that people here get local news from fb the same way you (used to) get news from twitter about shit like localized emergencies and whatnot.

because we are third world, you know that the state of our education system is nothing compared to the states. media and news literacy here is dangerously low and the population is sensitive to mis/disinformation, as can be seen during the 2022 presidential elections where the usa Also interfered lol. i cannot stress enough how much of the population was susceptible to this psyop, especially those in poverty who couldnt afford proper education. hell, even educated people fell for this shit. do you think jhunjhun who didnt finish grade 6 would be able to identify disguised foreign intervention that was in his own language?

we were already recovering from public scrutiny of a different vaccine, a dengue vaccine, which lowered public trust in inoculation. and then the usa goes and does THIS??? i cannot emphasize enough that they are directly responsible for the tens and thousands of unvaccinated covid deaths. they are responsible for my friends having to bury their unvaxxed parents and grandparents at the age of 19. they are responsible for mass death and disability.

but were just a country in the periphery. so who cares about us? our lives are worthless to the usa, which is why they admitted that they did this when they would otherwise "never" to their own population. third worlders arent real people to your government. we are merely statistics and a petri dish for experimentation. so who cares if we die? the real important thing isnt our lives, its that the usa has more control over us than china.

[youtubevideopromotion]

Are you ready for the epic clash of stress and adaptation between Millennials and Baby Boomers! Join us as we explore how these generations tackle life's challenges. Whether you're a Millennial, Boomer, or just curious, this video unveils the unique dynamics at play specifically for these generations. For more click here

[nasa]

NASA Inspires Your Crafty Creations for World Embroidery Day

It’s amazing what you can do with a little needle and thread! For #WorldEmbroideryDay, we asked what NASA imagery inspired you. You responded with a variety of embroidered creations, highlighting our different areas of study.

Here’s what we found:

Webb’s Carina Nebula

Wendy Edwards, a project coordinator with Earth Science Data Systems at NASA, created this embroidered piece inspired by Webb’s Carina Nebula image. Captured in infrared light, this image revealed for the first time previously invisible areas of star birth. Credit: Wendy Edwards, NASA. Pattern credit: Clare Bray, Climbing Goat Designs

Wendy Edwards, a project coordinator with Earth Science Data Systems at NASA, first learned cross stitch in middle school where she had to pick rotating electives and cross stitch/embroidery was one of the options.  “When I look up to the stars and think about how incredibly, incomprehensibly big it is out there in the universe, I’m reminded that the universe isn’t ‘out there’ at all. We’re in it,” she said. Her latest piece focused on Webb’s image release of the Carina Nebula. The image showcased the telescope’s ability to peer through cosmic dust, shedding new light on how stars form.

Ocean Color Imagery: Exploring the North Caspian Sea

Danielle Currie of Satellite Stitches created a piece inspired by the Caspian Sea, taken by NASA’s ocean color satellites. Credit: Danielle Currie/Satellite Stitches

Danielle Currie is an environmental professional who resides in New Brunswick, Canada. She began embroidering at the beginning of the Covid-19 pandemic as a hobby to take her mind off the stress of the unknown. Danielle’s piece is titled “46.69, 50.43,” named after the coordinates of the area of the northern Caspian Sea captured by LandSat8 in 2019.

An image of the Caspian Sea captured by Landsat 8 in 2019. Credit: NASA

Two Hubble Images of the Pillars of Creation, 1995 and 2015

Melissa Cole of Star Stuff Stitching created an embroidery piece based on the Hubble image Pillars of Creation released in 1995. Credit: Melissa Cole, Star Stuff Stitching

Melissa Cole is an award-winning fiber artist from Philadelphia, PA, USA, inspired by the beauty and vastness of the universe. They began creating their own cross stitch patterns at 14, while living with their grandparents in rural Michigan, using colored pencils and graph paper.  The Pillars of Creation (Eagle Nebula, M16), released by the Hubble Telescope in 1995 when Melissa was just 11 years old, captured the imagination of a young person in a rural, religious setting, with limited access to science education.

Lauren Wright Vartanian of the shop Neurons and Nebulas created this piece inspired by the Hubble Space Telescope’s 2015 25th anniversary re-capture of the Pillars of Creation. Credit:  Lauren Wright Vartanian, Neurons and Nebulas

Lauren Wright Vartanian of Guelph, Ontario Canada considers herself a huge space nerd. She’s a multidisciplinary artist who took up hand sewing after the birth of her daughter. She’s currently working on the illustrations for a science themed alphabet book, made entirely out of textile art. It is being published by Firefly Books and comes out in the fall of 2024. Lauren said she was enamored by the original Pillars image released by Hubble in 1995. When Hubble released a higher resolution capture in 2015, she fell in love even further! This is her tribute to those well-known images.

James Webb Telescope Captures Pillars of Creation

Darci Lenker of Darci Lenker Art, created a rectangular version of Webb’s Pillars of Creation. Credit:  Darci Lenker of Darci Lenker Art

Darci Lenker of Norman, Oklahoma started embroidery in college more than 20 years ago, but mainly only used it as an embellishment for her other fiber works. In 2015, she started a daily embroidery project where she planned to do one one-inch circle of embroidery every day for a year.  She did a collection of miniature thread painted galaxies and nebulas for Science Museum Oklahoma in 2019. Lenker said she had previously embroidered the Hubble Telescope’s image of Pillars of Creation and was excited to see the new Webb Telescope image of the same thing. Lenker could not wait to stitch the same piece with bolder, more vivid colors.

Milky Way

Darci Lenker of Darci Lenker Art was inspired by NASA’s imaging of the Milky Way Galaxy. Credit: Darci Lenker

In this piece, Lenker became inspired by the Milky Way Galaxy, which is organized into spiral arms of giant stars that illuminate interstellar gas and dust. The Sun is in a finger called the Orion Spur.

The Cosmic Microwave Background

This image shows an embroidery design based on the cosmic microwave background, created by Jessica Campbell, who runs Astrostitches. Inside a tan wooden frame, a colorful oval is stitched onto a black background in shades of blue, green, yellow, and a little bit of red. Credit: Jessica Campbell/ Astrostitches

Jessica Campbell obtained her PhD in astrophysics from the University of Toronto studying interstellar dust and magnetic fields in the Milky Way Galaxy. Jessica promptly taught herself how to cross-stitch in March 2020 and has since enjoyed turning astronomical observations into realistic cross-stitches. Her piece was inspired by the cosmic microwave background, which displays the oldest light in the universe.

The full-sky image of the temperature fluctuations (shown as color differences) in the cosmic microwave background, made from nine years of WMAP observations. These are the seeds of galaxies, from a time when the universe was under 400,000 years old. Credit: NASA/WMAP Science Team

GISSTEMP: NASA’s Yearly Temperature Release

Katy Mersmann, a NASA social media specialist, created this embroidered piece based on NASA’s Goddard Institute for Space Studies (GISS) global annual temperature record. Earth’s average surface temperature in 2020 tied with 2016 as the warmest year on record. Credit: Katy Mersmann, NASA

Katy Mersmann is a social media specialist at NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center in Greenbelt, Md. She started embroidering when she was in graduate school. Many of her pieces are inspired by her work as a communicator. With climate data in particular, she was inspired by the researchers who are doing the work to understand how the planet is changing. The GISTEMP piece above is based on a data visualization of 2020 global temperature anomalies, still currently tied for the warmest year on record.

In addition to embroidery, NASA continues to inspire art in all forms. Check out other creative takes with Landsat Crafts and the James Webb Space telescope public art gallery.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[theswisstimes]

Swiss teens and children may be bearing the brunt of the Covid-19 pandemic stress. But how? Learn here in this blog everything about how it's affecting the mental health of teens.

[reasonsforhope]

"Millions of Australians just got official permission to ignore their bosses outside of working hours, thanks to a new law enshrining their "right to disconnect."

The law doesn't strictly prohibit employers from calling or messaging their workers after hours. But it does protect employees who "refuse to monitor, read or respond to contact or attempted contact outside their working hours, unless their refusal is unreasonable," according to the Fair Work Commission, Australia's workplace relations tribunal.

That includes outreach from their employer, as well as other people "if the contact or attempted contact is work-related."

The law, which passed in February, took effect on Monday [August 26, 2024] for most workers and will apply to small businesses of fewer than 15 people starting in August 2025. It adds Australia to a growing list of countries aiming to protect workers' free time.

"It's really about trying to bring back some work-life balance and make sure that people aren't racking up hours of unpaid overtime for checking emails and responding to things at a time when they're not being paid," said Sen. Murray Watt, Australia's minister for employment and workplace relations.

The law doesn't give employees a complete pass, however...

"If it was an emergency situation, of course people would expect an employee to respond to something like that," Watt said. "But if it's a run-of-the-mill thing … then they should wait till the next work day, so that people can actually enjoy their private lives, enjoy time with their family and their friends, play sport or whatever they want to do after hours, without feeling like they're chained to the desk at a time when they're not actually being paid, because that's just not fair."

Protections aim to address erosion of work-life balance

The law's supporters hope it will help solidify the boundary between the personal and the professional, which has become increasingly blurry with the rise of remote work since the COVID-19 pandemic.

A 2022 survey by the Centre for Future Work at the Australia Institute, a public policy think tank, found that seven out of 10 Australians performed work outside of scheduled working hours, with many reporting experiencing physical tiredness, stress and anxiety as a result.

The following year, the institute reported that Australians clocked an average of 281 hours of unpaid overtime in 2023. Valuing that labor at average wage rates, it estimated the average worker is losing the equivalent of nearly $7,500 U.S. dollars each year.

"This is particularly concerning when worker's share of national income remains at a historically low level, wage growth is not keeping up with inflation, and the cost of living is rising," it added.

The Australian Council of Trade Unions hailed the new law as a "cost-of-living win for working people," especially those in industries like teaching, community services and administrative work.

The right to disconnect, it said, will not only cut down on Australians' unpaid work hours but also address the "growing crisis of increasing mental health illness and injuries in modern workplaces."

"More money in your pocket, more time with your loved ones and more freedom to live your life — that's what the right to disconnect is all about," ACTU President Michele O’Neil said in a statement.

The 2022 Australia Institute survey... found broad support for a right to disconnect.

Only 9% of respondents said such a policy would not positively affect their lives. And the rest cited a slew of positive effects, from having more social and family time to improved mental health and job satisfaction. Thirty percent of respondents said it would enable them to be more productive during work hours.

Eurofound, the European Union agency for the improvement of living and working conditions, said in a 2023 study that workers at companies with a right to disconnect policy reported better work-life balance than those without — 92% versus 80%."

-via GoodGoodGood, August 26, 2024

[covid-safer-hotties]

Alarm bells ring in Japan as experts warn of fast-spreading new Covid variant KP. 3 - Published July 19, 2024

Paywalled at the South China Morning Post: Unpaywalled by Covidsafehotties.

The country reported a 39 per cent week-on-week surge in infections from July 1 to 7, with Okinawa the hardest hit

Japan is grappling with a new and highly contagious coronavirus variant that is fuelling the country’s 11th wave of Covid-19 infections, health experts warn. The KP. 3 variant is spreading rapidly, even among those who are vaccinated or have recovered from previous infections, according to Kazuhiro Tateda, president of the Japan Association of Infectious Diseases.

“It is, unfortunately, the nature of the virus to become more resilient and resistant each time it changes into a different form,” Tateda told This Week in Asia. “People lose their immunity quite quickly after being vaccinated, so they have little or no resistance.”

Tateda, who sits on Japan’s advisory panel formed at the start of the pandemic, said the coming weeks will be critical as authorities monitor the variant’s spread and impact.

While hospitals have reported a sharp uptick in Covid-19 admissions, Tateda said he is “relieved that not many of these cases are severe”. Typical symptoms of the KP. 3 variant include high fever, sore throat, loss of smell and taste, headaches, and fatigue.

According to the health ministry, medical facilities across Japan logged a 1.39-fold – or 39 per cent – increase in infections from July 1 to 7, compared to the previous week.

Okinawa prefecture has been the hardest hit by the new strain of the virus, with hospitals reporting an average of nearly 30 infections per days. The KP. 3 variant has accounted for more than 90 per cent of Covid-19 cases nationwide, the Fuji News Network reported, leading to renewed concerns about bed shortages at medical facilities.

Since Japan’s first detected Covid-19 case in early 2020 involving a man who returned from the Chinese city of Wuhan, East Asian nation has recorded a total of 34 million infections and around 75,000 related deaths. The country’s Covid-19 caseload peaked on August 5, 2022, when more than 253,000 people were receiving treatment.

Japan’s uptick in cases coincides with similar increases being observed globally. In the US, the Centres for Disease Control and Prevention reported a 23.5 per cent week-over-week rise in the number of people visiting hospitals with Covid-19 symptoms during the week ending July 6.

High-profile US.figures such as President Joe Biden and Doug Emhoff, husband of Vice-President Kamala Harris, have recently tested positive and gone into isolation. Meanwhile, several riders in the ongoing Tour de France cycling race have also returned positive test results.

Experts say it is too early to determine the full impact of the new variant on Japanese businesses or cross-border activities like travel. Precautionary measures are already in place at the country’s air and seaports to monitor the health of incoming arrivals. However, the global spike in cases may deter some Japanese from venturing abroad this summer.

A recent survey by Nippon Life insurance found that just 3.2 per cent of Japanese plan to travel abroad in the coming months, which is likely to depress annual travel figures once again. In 2023, Japan saw 9.62 million outbound travellers, a recovery after three years of extremely low pandemic-era numbers, but still far below the 20.01 million outbound travellers recorded in 2019.

Despite the latest surge, infectious disease expert Tateda insists there is no need for panic in Japan. However, he emphasised the importance of following precautions implemented during the pandemic’s peak, such as mask-wearing in public, handwashing, and social distancing.

Tateda also stressed that anyone testing positive should immediately isolate themselves.

[mypoisonedvine]

𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨𝙤𝙢 || dieter bravo x camgirl!reader (part three; finale)

read 𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙩 (part one) and 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙢 (part two) first!

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || he can't believe you're really here— now he has to just try not to blow it... figuratively speaking.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 || 5.7k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || smut (18+ only; unprotected sex, oral f receiving, multiple orgasms/overstimulation [for reader], creampie), sex work (however dieter technically does not pay the reader for sex, just her flight to visit him c:), mentions of covid-19 pandemic, soft dieter being soft, emotions!! lots of 'em!, extremely sappy/fluffy ending (oops?)

He wasn’t sure who he was more worried would get recognized: you, or himself.

It was his idea to go out to dinner first, in fact he’d insisted on it.  Going out to dinner in times like these was a bit iffy, but thankfully the place had outdoor dining and you’d both already tested negative— for more than just the virus…

It was a beautiful evening to eat outside, but it made him even more anxious that any passerby might know him either of you from your respective works; so far, no one had said anything though.

As he watched you take a sip of your sparkling water, he realized that he hadn’t had a crush on anyone in a long, long time.  He hadn’t had sweating palms and a racing heart and a dry throat over someone since probably high school.  By the time he was in his BFA program, he was so focused on his craft that he didn’t find himself worrying much about that sort of stuff— and if he wanted to get someone into bed, it didn’t seem like much to stress over.

This was different.  This wasn’t an issue of getting you to sleep with him, although he certainly hoped you wouldn’t renege on the intentions you’d stated before— this was about getting you to like him, maybe even (as he would’ve put it back when he last had a crush) ‘like like’ him.

“Was your flight okay?” Dieter asked compulsively to fill the silence, proud of himself for thinking of something to say.

“Still good,” you nodded.  “You asked me that when we first got here.”

“Right,” he sighed, “sorry.  I forgot.”

“It’s fine,” you laughed, setting your glass down on the white tablecloth.  “I’m nervous, too.  But in a good way.”

He smiled.  “Yeah— I’m just really excited that you’re here.  And it’s still kind of weirding me out that you’re… you know, real.”

“It’s definitely trippy,” you agreed.  “When you see somebody over video chat a lot, they look sort of surreal in real life.”

“Are you… speaking from experience?” he wondered, lowering his voice a bit.

“Yeah— but not this kind of experience,” you clarified.  “I’ve never met anyone from my work before— I told you that.”

“Right, yeah— I believe you,” he assured.  “Have you ever flown overseas just to meet someone before?”

You laughed, looking down for a second.  “No, I haven’t,” you answered, “but this isn’t the first time I’ve been, you know, wined and dined by somebody…”

“Well, I figured this wasn’t your first date,” Dieter scoffed.

“No, I mean— well, yeah,” you hummed, “but I, um… before I started camming, I was actually a sugar baby.  So I’ve had my flights paid for before, is what I mean.”

He widened his eyes a little, but nodded— hoping to look more intrigued than overwhelmed.  “Oh, wow, that’s— I don’t know a lot about that, honestly…”

“I was about to ask if you’d ever had a sugar baby before,” you smirked, “guess not.”

“Yeah, no,” he shook his head, “not my— not for me.  Not before, I mean— is that what you want?”

He got a little nervous that you would only want that— a relationship built on money.  He was more than happy to drop some cash on you— he’d offered to pay for everything for you on this trip, it only seemed fair when you had to come all this way— but he got a sick feeling in his stomach imagining that that was all you wanted from him.

But then again, he just said he didn’t know a lot about it, maybe it wasn’t like that… he just felt like it was another performance, and that was the last thing he needed from anybody.

“O-oh, no— not with us,” you answered quickly, blinking a few times, and he sighed with relief.  “I mean, it was nice— it wasn’t all old guys and crazy finance douchebags like people think,” you explained with a laugh, “but it was… it was hard work, in its own way.  ‘Cause another misconception is that it’s sex in exchange for money and gifts— it’s not, not the way I did it at least.  Those guys wanted the ‘girlfriend experience’... that’s the most profitable thing, whether it’s online or in-person.”

Dieter cleared his throat; can’t blame them, I guess…

“But, you know, they didn’t have the time for a genuine relationship, so it was like giving that emotion but never receiving it,” you continued, “and that was exhausting.  Not to mention most of them had other girls involved… I’m not a jealous person, but you know, that’s obviously not what I want for myself in the end.  So I switched to camming, worked out well with the pandemic and everything…”

“I’m sure,” Dieter agreed.  “So, um… maybe this is kind of a forward question, for a first date, but… what do you want for yourself in the end?”

You seemed to get a little more shy, then.  “Well…” you began softly.  “Despite what you’ve seen me do, I’m a pretty traditional girl.  I want a serious relationship, I want a lifelong commitment, I want… a family, probably.”

It was hard not to feel a lump in his throat when you said that, even if his emotions were conflicted at best.

“I mean— that doesn’t have to be you,” you rushed out, “I’m just saying… that’s the end goal.  I have a lot of time for that, in my opinion.”

“No, right,” he agreed.  “So then, I guess the obvious question— and probably a much easier one— is what’s your goal for tonight?”

You raised an eyebrow.  “I already told you my goal for tonight.”

He swallowed thickly.  He remembered your last message before getting on the plane pretty clearly: boarding now. hopefully i can get some sleep but i’m pretty wired ngl. just thinking about getting there and jumping your bones. i want you to fuck me so hard i can’t walk (or think) straight.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t have minded at all if you just took me straight to the hotel,” you smirked, “but dinner is nice.”

“Yeah, I— I thought about it,” he admitted.  “But… can I be honest?”

“Always.”

“I wanted this to be more than just… that,” he said.  He wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to tell you, but he hoped it wouldn’t bother you too much.  Thankfully, the gentle smile creeping up your face seemed to indicate that it wasn’t particularly offensive.

“So, what do you want this to be?” you pressed.

“We can figure that out as we go,” he offered, “we should get to know each other better— for real.  But that night that we stayed up until three just talking after what was supposed to be a one-hour call—”

He saw you smile even wider as you remembered it.

“I haven’t felt close to anyone like that in—” he began, but it all stopped as the waiter suddenly appeared from thin air.

“Your tortellini, ma’am,” he said as he set your plate down in front of you, and you offered an intrigued ‘ooh’ as you examined the dish, “and your langoustines alla busara,” he finished as he set Dieter’s food down.

“Thank you,” you offered the server with a polite nod, but Dieter could only muster a hum— he was a little miffed that the guy had managed to interrupt such an important moment.

“Anything else I can get for you two?” he asked, looking back and forth.

You looked over at him to check first, before shaking your head and replying, “No, I think we’re alright.”

“Excellent,” he beamed.  “And— can I just say one thing?”

You both paused, not sure what to make of that.  “Uh, sure,” Dieter decided, since the waiter seemed to be looking at him.

“I loved you in Hunger Strike,” he said excitedly; Dieter tensed up, wanting to look at you to gauge your reaction but suddenly too afraid of what he’d find.

“Oh, thank you,” he mumbled out, “that… means a lot.”

“I mean, it really moved me,” the waiter insisted, even though Dieter just wanted this interaction to end promptly.  “You were so— I’m really not trying to intrude, but is there any way I can get your autograph?”

Then he looked at you, and he couldn’t quite read the expression on your face— amusement, maybe, with a hefty dose of discomfort as well.  You looked away and took a long sip of your drink.  “Uhh,” Dieter choked, looking back at his adoring fan, “you’ll get my autograph when you bring the check.”

Seeming to realize that he had gone too far, the young man straightened up and cleared his throat.  “Right, uh— enjoy your meal.”

Scampering away, he left the both of you behind, along with all that tension he’d created.  How come he got a escape a situation that was his own fault, and Dieter was stuck here wondering if you would be upset that he didn’t tell you who he really was— or if you’d reveal you were a crazy stalker-fan the whole time— or if knowing he was famous would change your interest in being with him (if you even had any)?

“I’m… sorry about that,” Dieter finally offered to you, and you started to smile.

“Don’t be,” you chuckled, “it was kinda funny.  Do you usually react so… badly, to that kind of thing?”

He coughed a bit.  “No, I— are you not…?  Do you know—?”

“I saw the movie, Hector, I don’t live under a rock,” you admitted.

“Oh.”  Not sure what to say next, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind: “What did you think of it?”

Shrugging, you answered with a simple ‘eh’.  There was a pause before he began to crack up— and then you did, too. 

“So, I’ve been worrying about all you finding out about my career for nothing?” he assumed, and you nodded.

“I didn’t recognize you right away,” you explained, “but I put it together before we planned all this.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he wondered.

“I mean, I didn’t think I needed to, really,” you shrugged again.  “It’s just your job.  I was ready to talk about it if you brought it up— if you wanted to vent about work or something— but you never did, so I figured it must not be relevant.”

“Does it… change anything between us?” he asked nervously.  “Do you feel weird about going out with a movie star?”

“Mm, I don’t know about star…” you smirked, making him laugh again— and that was the part that was the same as always.  You still made him laugh, and now that the two of you were really talking again, it felt just like that night that you talked for hours— but even better.

When the plates were cleaned and the bill was paid, the two of you walked back to his hotel— he’d picked this place in part because he could see it from his window.  But that brief walk back was one of his favorite parts of the night so far, only because he’d slipped his arm around you, and you leaned into him: in that moment, he felt more normal than he had in a long time— and yet, at the same time, special in a way he’d never felt before.

~

“I tried to clean up in here, but—”

“Isn’t there housekeeping for that?” you wondered.  

“Yeah, but… I’ve had the ‘do not disturb’ sign up for the past week,” Dieter explained.  “Didn’t want anyone to come in while we were talking…”

“Right,” you smiled, finishing your examination of the room and turning to face him again.  The door shut on its own; you were looking at him with every light in the room reflected in your eyes.

He stepped closer to you, and wrapped his arms around you, and— why were his palms so clammy?  “I don’t think I’ve been this nervous to kiss someone since… since maybe my first ever kiss,” he recalled, and you laughed softly.

“Yeah, me either,” you whispered back, and he ran his hand over the curve of your hip.  “Who was your first kiss?”

“Uh, Sandy something… Brendan, I think— no, Brennan… Sandy Brennan.  We sat next to each other in History class in seventh grade,” he recalled.  “What about you?”

“I mean, unless you count a peck or two from my kindergarten boyfriend,” you chuckled, “my first real kiss wasn’t until high school— Gregory Cho.  But I wasn’t that nervous… actually, I was sort of ready to get it over with.”

“There was someone I was really nervous to kiss in high school, too,” he recalled, “but that was… different.”

“Who was it?”

That name was much easier to recall.  “Alex Brooks.”

“Was she super pretty?  Or popular?” you pressed, wondering what had him so nervous, what made it different.

“Both,” Dieter replied quickly.  “And… he was captain of the basketball team.”

You didn’t react strongly, but he still noticed it.

“Is that—?” he began to ask.

“He sounds like a real catch,” you smiled.  “Was he a good kisser?”

“Yeah,” Dieter laughed, “for a high schooler.  I guess things don’t feel as special now as they did back then— just some decent making-out in someone’s dad’s truck was the coolest thing, now it’s like— it’s all right there, you don’t have to…” he trailed off, but started a new sentence.  “I mean, even you— I’ve seen every part of you, but I just really met you for the first time.  And somehow I’m so afraid to kiss you.”

You were still smiling, but it changed, and you reached up to rest your hand on the back of his neck; it made him shiver in the best way.  “If you’re afraid, then it must still be pretty special.”

You kissed him, after all that; he would’ve felt bad for making you wait, if he wasn’t so fully engrossed in kissing you back and pulling you closer and breathing in deeply against your skin.  

For a long time, that was all it was— just one, amazing kiss.  Just his lips on yours and the gentle dance of trying to go further without going to far; just your hands holding tightly onto his shoulders as he gripped your waist through the dress.

You started to pull him across the room by his shirt— towards the bed— and broke away to speak; he tried to chase your lips for more, but stopped when you bit your lip and rested a finger on his chin.

“You haven’t seen every part of me,” you corrected him— even though he barely fucking remembered saying that after a kiss like that.  “I mean, my body, sure, but… not who I really am.”

“Then show me that,” he pleaded.  “That’s what I want— you, everything.”

You smiled wide and kissed him again, the two of you toppling onto the bed together.  

He’d been thinking about doing this since the moment he saw you: pulling up the bottom of your dress so he could pet your thighs, enamored with the smoothness of your skin.  “Baby,” he purred when he caught sight of your panties— what little there was of them.  The lace just gave him a glimpse of what was beneath, a tease of your perfect little cunt.

“God, I need you so bad,” you groaned as you pulled him down for another kiss; he’d been hard since you wrapped your arms around him, and he could swear he was already throbbing by the time he rocked his hips against yours.  “Fuck— feels even bigger than it looked…”

“Maybe your computer screen wasn’t big enough,” he joked, making you laugh lightly before another moan came out when he rocked down on you again.  “What do you want, beautiful?”

“You… you know what I want…” you panted, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Humor me,” he encouraged, moving in to kiss your neck— and loving the way you squirmed under him.

“Want— want you to fuck me,” you whimpered, “want you to make me— fuck— yours…”

He groaned deeply as he rutted his hips into yours harder, finally taunting you to the point that you had to reach down and start opening his pants.  “So eager,” he mocked playfully, as if he wasn’t going to ravage you the second you were done getting his cock out.

In fact, he almost tore your dress as he pulled it down to expose your chest, barely finding the time to appreciate the view of your tits before latching his mouth onto them.  “Oh fuck,” you gasped, and he smiled around the pert nipple in his mouth; these had seemed sensitive from the way you toyed with them as you touched yourself, but it was heaven on earth to confirm his suspicion himself.

“Want me to make you mine?” he prompted again, voice muffled by your delicate skin in his mouth, and you whimpered as you nodded.

“Yes— please—” you begged.

“Not sure I can do that,” he warned, and you gave him a confused look.  “You’re already mine, you told me yourself.”

You giggled, arching your back slightly as the tip of his tongue drew circles on you.  "I did say that, didn't I?"

"Mhm," he confirmed.  "Hard to forget."

"Well, m'still yours," you offered, "but I need you right now, I'll do— fuck, anything, just—"

"You don't need to do anything," he assured, looking up at you as he moved his mouth from your breast down a little lower, "just lay back and I'm gonna take care of you."

You bit your lip and nodded.

"Second I saw you I wanted to kiss you all over," he sighed.

"Well, I've got a couple ideas of where you can start," you smirked.

And yes, he would love to start there, but he needed to do his best not to rush this.  So, smiling up at you first, he began his journey.  His lips and tongue explored your body on his way down: a kiss here, a lick there, a playful bite when he felt extra naughty.  "You're so fucking beautiful," he mumbled against you.

"Yeah?  You too," you sighed.

He didn't think of himself like that— handsome, maybe, certainly aware of his better angles, but beautiful felt strange.  But he liked it, especially when you said it.  Especially when you said it while he was slotting his face between your legs.

It was even prettier up close, and the smell was fucking intoxicating: tangy and musky and sweet, heady, earthy, human.  And he knew you'd taste even better.

So he dove right in.  Maybe he should've started with your clit, that would've been the obvious choice, but his instincts led him to just slide his tongue right into your hole.  If nothing else, it certainly seemed to take you off guard, and you gasped as you grabbed onto his hair with both hands.

"Baby, fuck, that's— oh god, you can't imagine how many times I thought of this," you admitted, breathing heavy already.  He smiled against you, then gave you one big lick from the furthest down his tongue could reach all the way to the very top— all while holding fierce eye contact with you.  "Fu-uuuuck," you choked, dropping your head back just as your eyes rolled up.  "That's so… just do that again, please…"

He did it a few more times, noticing the way you seemed to get more impatient with each one, until your hips were chasing after his tongue.  "Stay still, baby, don't you trust me to do this right?" he purred, holding tighter on your hips.

"Yeah, I just— been so long," you whimpered.

He just did his best to find what made you scream the loudest and keep doing that— you were so sensitive, he just had to press his tongue down flat on your clit and move it in circles and you’d start shaking and sobbing and begging.  He moaned into you every time you tugged on his hair, having to rock his hips against the bed to appease his attention-deprived cock.

"You're… so amazing," you panted, "I— fuck! Oh god, I can't remember the last time someone—"

You never finished your thought, because he started fucking you with his tongue and you were too busy moaning his name, but he couldn't believe what a waste it was that nobody was eating this pussy on a regular basis.

"Gonna— oh fuck, yes, gonna come," you warned, "I… I'm gonna come so fucking hard…"

You started shaking, and he started fighting to keep you as still as he could so his work wouldn't be interrupted.  For a second he wondered if you were already coming or not— but then you made this noise, and your cunt clamped down on his tongue, and you cried out his name; it was perfect, it was the most beautiful moment he could ever imagine.

When it became too much, you went from tugging his hair to pushing him away with it, and he grinned up at you with a breathy laugh.  “Fuck, baby,” you whimpered, and he saw the tear streaks on your temples and cheeks.  He traced one with his thumb before kissing you again— deep and hungry, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

He hummed when your hands reached down to work on getting his pants off— eager and shaky, he certainly related to that.  As soon as your hand wrapped around his cock, he moaned, just from that.  He was almost embarrassed about it, until you bit his lip in playful encouragement.  "Does that feel good?" you purred.

"Yeah— your hands are better than mine," he laughed breathlessly.  

"How about this?" you raised an eyebrow, swiping your thumb over his slit, and he groaned as he rocked into your touch.

"God, baby…" he groaned.  As good as it felt, he found the strength to grab you by both your wrists and pin them down by your head.  You grinned, struggling just a bit, and moaned as he slid his cock against your soaking pussy.

“Don’t tease me,” you begged, “feels like I’ve been waiting forever.”

But he wasn’t teasing you— he was psyching himself up.

Believe it or not, he actually felt pretty nervous about this part.  Not for a lack of experience— for the entirely opposite reason.  Dieter had been with a lot of people, and for the most part, it was all… the same.  It all blended together— he only remembered those people from when he was a kid because he was a kid, and his romantic encounters were so few and far between.  He could remember details of his various partners from the last few years— Crystal who had a clit piercing, Marvin who begged to be choked, Cameron who seemed to enjoy giving him a blowjob even more than he enjoyed receiving it— but this, the actual sex, it was generally pretty interchangeable.  

So, he was worried that after all that build-up, after all the yearning and fantasizing and talking, that this would be the end of it being special— and you would just turn into a hook-up with a slightly more interesting backstory than the rest.  

As valid as that fear was, it was far from enough to stop him now, not when you were looking up at him and tightening your fists as he kept you pinned and silently begging for him with your eyes.

He had to let go of one of your hands to guide himself inside, but he interlaced the other with your fingers while he did it— and then, with one strong push, he was fully within you.

“Oh my god,” he gasped, “you feel… different.”

You raised an eyebrow, chuckling a little.  “Uh, different than what?”

Than everyone else.  “I— I don’t know,” he breathed, “I’m not making sense.”

“Not really,” you agreed with a laugh.

“Hard to think straight right now,” he defended.

It wasn’t just that you felt different— it was that this felt different: being with someone he really cared about, that he wanted to impress, that he wanted to see after this was over.

Someone that he never wanted to let go of.

“You feel so fucking perfect,” you whimpered, “fuck, don’t stop— feels so good—”

One of the benefits of making you come on his tongue first was that he knew it wouldn't be that bad if he didn't last too long now— though that wasn't why he did it.  In fact, this was rarely his issue, if anything sometimes he struggled to finish for unclear reasons.

But even if he could get away with finishing quickly, he wanted to make this last as long as he could.  He never wanted this to end, actually.

As he found his pace— not too speedy yet, but with a bit of his eagerness showing— he kissed you again, deeply and hungrily.  He wondered if he'd ever done this before: kissing during sex.  He felt like he probably had, and yet he couldn't remember it— maybe that said more than anything.

This, on the other hand, was very memorable.  He slid his arms under you when your back arched, he held you tight and close and drank in every one of your moans through that kiss.

For how many times he’d pictured fucking you, he never really imagined it like this… and he thought he’d imagined it every way before.  But he realized that he’d mostly imagined it a bit kinker— you riding him, or him fucking you while you were bent over the table in his room, or 69’ing or something.  This was passionate, and sorta slow; this was his hips grinding on yours with every thrust so he could keep rubbing your sore clit; this was making love, he realized— if it wasn’t, he couldn’t imagine what was.

“I— fuck, baby— think I’m gonna come again,” you warned him with the most beautiful whiny sob.

“Fuck, already?” he smiled, and you nodded feverishly.  

“Just… don’t stop, please, just like that— fuuuuck!” you choked, and he gasped every time your walls clenched down on him.

“You’re so fucking perfect, fuck,” he grunted, moving a bit faster and not letting up on the pressure from his pubic bone on your clit, even when you actually screamed under him.  “You’re so amazing, oh god, I—”

He heard it before he said it: I think I love you.  He stopped himself before blurting it out— maybe he’d tell you after, but he wasn’t so far gone to forget that this wasn’t the right time.  You’d think he didn’t really mean it, that it was just the delirium talking from how incredible you felt, but he knew it was so much more than that.

He shut himself up by kissing your neck— not too hard, but plenty to leave a mark, and make you squirm in the process.  Your hands wrapped around his back and your nails dug into his skin, but he couldn’t even feel the pain of it, he couldn’t feel anything but the sticky, resplendent heat of your body.

“So much fucking better than the goddamn dildos,” you said suddenly, and he laughed against your skin.  

“Do you miss all those people watching you come?” he wondered.

“No, fuck no,” you panted, “there’s nobody else but you.”

He couldn’t help but fuck you faster when you said that— you should’ve known better than to stroke his ego that way.

“Fuck!” you sobbed.  “Hector, baby, you’re so— oh god, I don’t know if I can take it—”

“Shh, you can,” he promised, “you can do anything, you can come for me again—”

“Oh fuck, I— I might,” you admitted shakily, “but then I’ll— I’ll fucking pass out or something.”

“No, you’ll be okay,” he promised, cooing at you softly.  “You’ll be so good for me, I know you will— just come for me one more time, baby, tell me what you need to come again.”

“I… just a little time is all I need,” you answered, voice breaking.  “I swear I’ve never— I’m not usually so— fuck, it’s just you—”

“I know,” he assured, loving the way you babbled praises but worried it would distract you from coming again; and if you didn’t soon, there wouldn’t be time before he lost it.  He was already barely able to keep his composure just from how beautiful you looked like this, let alone how you felt.  “I know, just let it happen, I know it’s right there for me— just come for me, beautiful—”

You dragged him down into a sloppy kiss, and he felt it— those incredible pulses inside you, waves of slick coating him until he felt sticky all the way down his thighs; your sobs were more precious than anything he’d ever heard.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he praised, fucking you even faster now as your head fell back limply.  “I can’t h-hold back anymore, I need to—”

“I know,” you said to him this time, “it’s okay, please— want you to…”

“You still— oh my god…” he choked, losing his train of thought for a moment.  “You still want me to come inside you?  Wanna be full?”

“Yes,” you whined, “yes, baby, please— wanna be so full of your come, I want everything—”

"Fuck, okay," he agreed, gasping as he tried to keep up his pace despite the growing pressure inside.  "I'm really fucking close…”

“I’m yours,” you told him again— and then he went from ‘really fucking close’ to ‘already fucking there’.  He came inside you with a long, whimpered groan; his head dropped onto your shoulder while each pump filled you, trying to catch his breath but feeling like he’d never find it again.

Admitting he loved you during sex wasn’t a good idea, but saying it immediately after wasn’t that much of an improvement.  Now, though, he was too exhausted to keep his mouth shut.  “I think I love you,” he blurted out suddenly.

For one incredibly long second, you didn’t react at all.  You looked up at him, and he hesitated to even look back because he didn’t want to see anything less than ecstasy on your face.  “Oh,” you said, “cool.”

He wasn’t sure what reaction he anticipated, good or bad, but it wasn’t that.

“Let me know when you know,” you suggested.

“No!  No— I know,” he insisted, reaching up to hold your face, “I know.  I love you.  I think I did even before you came here, but… it just seemed so crazy.  We don’t know each other as well as we should for that, right?  But I feel it— I feel something that I just can’t explain—”

“Hey, slow down,” you laughed, “I feel it too.”

The way you smiled at him, resting your hand on his chest— was he glowing?  He felt like he was actually glowing.  “Good,” he decided.

“Let’s get to know each other better, then,” you announced.  “Start from the beginning, the whole thing: parents, siblings, school, favorite movies, worst dates, hot dogs or hamburgers—”

“No, you start,” he pouted, “you’re more interesting.”

“Me?  Please, I’m just your average camgirl titty streamer, don’t worry about it,” you scoffed.

“And I’m just some lame old Oscar winner,” he shrugged.

But both of you talked— all night, actually.  You never fell asleep, he was never even that tired— you kept him so full of energy he didn’t even notice how long it had been until the sun started to come up.  And then you kept talking at breakfast.  And then you fucked again, and talked some more after; he knew it had to end, eventually, but he didn’t even want to think about it.  He didn’t want to think about you going home and letting something so perfect end.

He told you just as much on the last night— assuming you didn’t switch your flight home to a later day again.  You’d just been laying in his arms after another bout of passionately desperate fucking, both of you half-asleep but not wanting the separation of even just unconsciousness, and he blurted it out.

“Don’t leave,” he pleaded under his breath.  “I don’t want you to go.”

“I know you don’t,” you returned softly.  

“I don’t want this to end.”

You were quiet for a while, turning over on your side to face him, tracing your fingers over his chest gently.  “It doesn’t have to end, just because I leave,” you mumbled.  “I know it’s crazy, but we can be together, even if we’re not… together.  I mean, I’m certainly not gonna be with anybody else—”

“Me either,” he said quickly, before he could change his own mind with the doubts— the voice in his head that said he could never settle down because he’s too fucked up.  “I only want you.”

“It’ll suck, being far away from each other— but you’ll be back Stateside eventually, right?” you assumed.

“God, I hope so,” he sighed, “if the world doesn’t end.”

“If it does,” you whispered, moving in closer, “I hope it’s tonight.  I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else but here.”

It was a romantic thought, but as he kissed you, he realized he’d never wanted the world to end less than he did right now.  He never longed for an apocalypse or anything, even on nights that his doubts and anxieties made him yearn for oblivion just for himself, but just now he could’ve cried thinking about everything falling apart tonight.  Whether it be by fiery explosion or a quiet, instant disappearance, he couldn’t let armageddon happen now— now that he had you.  For the first time, he saw himself having a future, in a way he never had before.  Existing as a ‘celebrity’ meant being on the edge of irrelevance at any moment, knowing this could all go away overnight and you’d just be ‘that guy who was in that thing that one time’.  

But this time, he stood on a precipice of something wonderful, of something natural, and it was the most beautifully terrifying unknown.  It was tomorrow.  Tomorrow, you’d get on the plane; tomorrow, you’d leave, because the world wasn’t going to end tonight.  But his life was going to start tonight, and he didn’t have to face it alone anymore.

[growingstories]

Male model

Male model Darren had always dreamed of walking the runways of big fashion shows in Italy and Paris, showcasing the latest designs from top designers. And his dream came true. Darren was known for his chiseled features, sharp jawline, and perfectly toned physique. He was the epitome of what the fashion industry considered the ideal male body. However, everything changed when the world was hit by the devastating COVID-19 pandemic.

As the first four weeks of lockdown began, Darren found himself confined to his home. With no photoshoots or fashion shows to attend, he started to spend most of his time indulging in comfort foods. The lack of physical activity and the stress of the situation caused him to gain weight rapidly.

Weeks went by, and Darren found himself down on his luck. His once slender body was now a bit plumper, and his modeling career was suffering. But fate had something different in store for him. A fast-food chain, Big Burger, impressed by his unique transformation, decided to approach Darren. They wanted him to be the face of their brand, capitalizing on his relatability to the general public. The offer was tempting, promising a hefty paycheck and a chance to regain his popularity.

Darren, despite his reservations, decided to take the offer. He thought that once the campaign was over, he could go back to his old life and lose the extra weight. Little did he know that this decision would gradually change the course of his life. In an attempt to shed off some excess weight, Darren embarked on a weight loss journey. With the help of a personal trainer and nutritionist, he managed to lose 5kg. However, just as he was beginning to see progress, his manager had other plans for him.

Another campaign for Big Burger, this time promoting their new burger known as "The Big Burger," was on the horizon. The company insisted that Darren put on more weight to portray their idea of the perfect consumer. Reluctantly, he agreed, knowing that it would mean sacrificing his own happiness for financial gain.

Also other food companies started sending him an array of mouth-watering treats and samples to promote on his social media channels. Darren found himself overwhelmed by the constant influx of food while struggling to maintain his weight and image. Nevertheless, his manager saw this as an opportunity and suggested that Darren start a podcast reviewing food products around the world.

As his career skyrocketed, Darren's weight ballooned. His previous model clients refused to book him for their campaigns, citing his size as the main reason. Deeply frustrated, Darren began to long for the glamour and success he once had. He confided in his manager, expressing his desire to lose weight and get back in shape.

Sympathetic to Darren's concerns, his manager arranged a deal with a reputable gym to help him shed the excess weight. However, just as he was getting ready to embark on his journey, Big Burger offered him an enticing three-year contract. They promised him stability, incredible earnings, and fame, but the condition was that he couldn't lose weight. Struck by the allure of financial security, Darren reluctantly accepted the offer, believing that he would be able to lose weight once the contract was over. Month by month, he had photoshoots for new products, made social media posts, and received an abundance of food and meals sent directly to his doorstep.

His fame grew, not as a fashion model but as the food reviewer he unintentionally became. The money kept rolling in, but Darren grew increasingly unhappy with his appearance. He was kut of breath fast and tying his shoes became a workout at itself. He decided to secretly visit the gym and after only a few weeks he lost 10kg.

During his next photoshoot, the photographer was surprised by Darren's leaner appearence. The pictures turned out to be fantastic, but just as he was basking in his success, he received a call from the big boss of Big Burger. The boss warned Darren that if he continued losing weight, his contract would be terminated. In an attempt to fail his weightloss regime, a big box of sweet snacks arrived at his doorstep, accompanied by a note expressing apologies for their strictness.

While guilt washed over him during his indulgence in the snacks, Darren found solace in the gym. He focused solely on building muscle without engaging in any cardio exercises. The boss's presents continued for weeks, and as a result, his muscles popped, and his belly grew once again.

Instead of feeling dejected, Darren grew happier with his newfound bulkiness. He decided to embrace his weight and the attention he received at the gym from other big men who admired his strength. Every few days, he received surprises from Big Burger and other food chains, all expressing their happiness and love for him.

Months turned into years, and Darren became unrecognizable. With his size constantly increasing, his bank account overflowed with money, but he was no longer content with his appearance. He missed the glamour of his past life and the feeling of confidence that being fit and healthy had brought him.

Darren felt a mix of guilt and determination as he stared at the feast before him. He decided to channel his guilt into motivation, guilt for enjoying the snacks to the fullest but not giving up on his fitness journey. He immediately went to the gym and worked out without any cardio, craving the unity of his mind and body. This cycle continued for two weeks. His muscles bulked up, and his belly expanded as he consumed all the snacks provided by Big Burger. He received unwavering support from his followers and fans on social media, celebrating his transformation in every post.

Embracing his new body, Darren made a life-altering decision. He chose to let go of social standards and expectations and embraced his weight. With every passing day, he became more confident and happy in his frame.

Surprises from Big Burger, along with other food companies, kept flooding in. They admired Darren's loyalty and dedication to their brand, constantly sending him food and treats. His fame solidified not only as a male model turned food reviewer but also as a symbol of unabashed self-acceptance.

With every passing day, Darren's fame and bank account grew, but it was his inner happiness that truly bloomed. He had discovered that being comfortable in his own skin was worth more than any fashion show or modeling contract.

[mindblowingscience]

University of Queensland-led research has found migrating humpback whales off Australia's east coast became less stressed over the first year of the COVID-19 pandemic. The research paper is published in Marine Environmental Research. Dr. Jake Linsky from UQ's School of the Environment led a study out of Moreton Bay Research Station to measure the health of the species during a time of unprecedented change in human activity. "We used drone photographs and blubber samples to assess the health of eastern Australian humpback whales in the waters off Minjerribah—North Stradbroke Island—during their migration in 2020 and 2021," Dr. Linsky said.

Continue Reading.

[carmyberzattosjournal]

Entry 13: Grand Canyons of Scars

GIF by @mithrandirl

Bearblr Promptober Day 13: Hot Cocoa + Baking

Summary: In which Carmen has the worst panic attack of his life.

Warnings: Panic attack, swearing, trouble breathing, vomiting, pain, Carmy feels like he's dying, The Devil (Chef David) makes an appearance, written with fem reader who is a trauma surgeon in mind, she/her pronouns.

Notes: All journal entries will be titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

This is a two-parter. Second part here.

Reblogs and comments appreciated. Thank you to @carmenberzattosgf for putting together this prompt list.

13 Oct 2024

I’m glad I had the panic attack in the park before the one I had at home. Because if I had the one at home first, I’m fairly certain Darling wouldn’t’ve looked at me the same again.

The Devil was a food critic now. Should’ve been a downgrade from being one of the best chefs in the world, but jokes on all of us miserable fucks, he was making a fuckton of money without having to step foot in another sweltering, loud, stressful kitchen again. Not that he felt stress. He didn’t feel anything.

He wasn’t a fucking human.

You know how if there is a God, he’s out for my blood, right? Well, I have proof of that now. Exhibit A: I find out this information while chopping chocolate for hot cocoa at my apartment—aside: fuck landlords, it took him a month to fix my range, and the radiator in the bedroom still won’t fucking work—and what comes on during the ad break of the baking show I have running in the background so the place isn’t painfully quiet while I’m waiting on Darling to come up from the parking lot after a long shift?

Aside 2: She was at the hospital for 19 fucking hours, you piece of shit. You fucking deadbeat. That’s the day you did this to her.

“Part of the reason we’re seeing so many restaurants close down, especially after the COVID-19 pandemic, is because of the social culture around dining out changing,” Chef David said.

If I had any control of my body, I would’ve kept my eyes off the T.V., ran over to the remote, and changed the channel or turned it off. That’s it. It sounds so fucking simple when I write this down, but that’s not how it went. It’s not how it’s ever going to go because The Devil left gouges, chasms in my psyche, Grand Canyons of scars that I put shitty fucking rope bridges over and that I could never—and I can never, I know this—fill in. No, I froze. I froze like The Devil’s breath was fanning out over the back of my neck, and the plates were moving too slowly, and I repeated ingredients again, and I should’ve been dead I should’ve been dead I should’ve—

One of the weirdest consequences of working for The Devil was that I could remember every single word he said to me. It was paramount that I did. He spat venom at me if I missed anything he said the first time. Every little thing—down to his fucking hatred of fucking black pepper—I memorized it. I knew that tilt of his head when he sensed an excuse, that eyebrow twitch when he expected a verbal answer, the furrow that formed and dissipated in the blink of an eye when he decided something had too much in it and needed to be stripped further. He walked differently when he was going to berate me. His cadence was different when I fucked up versus when I insulted humanity for existing.

So, as I stood, a marble carving in the kitchen, knife hovering over a chunk of Valrhona 55% dark chocolate already half-shredded into flakes, all I could do was watch the white reflection coming off the blade tremble more and more, all I could do was absorb every. Single. Word. The Devil said, as the voice in my head screamed at my body to move. To do something. To make the voice stop. As I tried to fight through the noise to tell myself it wasn’t real and that it was a dream, and I couldn’t be back in New York, Darling wasn’t in New York, and I couldn’t’ve imagined her this vividly.

“… with the rise… like Uber Eats and Doordash, people are just not finding it necessary to go out to dining halls and enjoy meals. They can get a lot of the food they tend to want to eat at home on their own time without having to brace the discomforts of social expectations. This has, obviously, caused problems in the mid-to-fine dining world, where that social expectation of a dining experience is primarily what drives people in the door rather than the food itself being of some specific quality.”

Like a bolt of lightning, a searing pain erupted in my chest. The knife clattered and slid off the cutting board, off the counter, and rang as it bounced off the tile floor. I grabbed at my chest, at the thing causing the pain, as if to remove it, as if I’d find a knife there butchering me as I stood, but all I grasped was the front of my apron.

“So do you think this will change how restaurants are being run?”

“Absolutely,” The Devil said. “I think in order to survive this change in society, restaurants need to adapt to the social changes we’re seeing.”

The pain worsened and deepened and sunk into the pit of my stomach. And I tore my apron off and clawed at my shirt, trying to chase down the hands under it, under my skin, under my ribs, the ones twisting my insides around their fists.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Noma has announced that it will be closing its dining hall after the service season in 2024 and opening an option more catered to people who want to be able to take the food to-go. There needs to be a shift in the industry that corresponds to the shift in the culture.”

My knees buckled, pain exploded elsewhere—I couldn’t even tell where, it all hurt. Everything hurt. World dimmed. Noise of some kind? Was that a voice? Was that The Devil’s voice?

“Carmy? Carmy!”

I couldn’t breathe. A roaring sound. Lights in my view.

Dark again. Cold. Cold on my face. Something jostled me.

“CARMEN, BREATHE!”

I can’t, sweetheart.

The Devil finally killed me.

Tell Sugar I’m sorry.

Tell ma I love her.

Piercing cold on my chest. Light. Dark. Light. Bile. I coughed and spluttered, gasped in air.

“There you go. Cough. Keep coughing.”

Pressure on my back. Light. It kept moving.

“Breathe... Breathe.” Darling sniffled, drew in a shaking breath. “In and out, slowly, all the way... You’re okay... It’s gonna be okay.”

Kitchen floor, on my side, knife and pool of vomit in view. And the stench of bile and random noise from the T.V. and freezing cold on my chest. A hand rubbing up and down my spine. Darling sniffled again. Took a deep breath.

“Sweetheart, can you hear me?”

I could. Fuck if I could respond, though.

“Carmy, baby, are you here?” something touched my hand. “Can you squeeze if you can hear me? I’m gonna have to call for an ambulance if you’re not—”

I crushed her fingers in my grip. Fuck no. No hospitals.

“Okay.” The cold sensation on my chest left, and in its wake was numbness and, weirdly, burning. The kind that made my face hurt when walking to the restaurant in the winter.

I’d just had the most brutal panic attack of my life. And this poor fucking woman—she got back from 19 fucking hours at the hospital and had to clean up that mess and me and the cut on my arm from falling on the knife. I kept wanting to help—I knew it was my fucking mess—but I couldn’t tell which way was up or down or if I was awake or asleep or what day or year it was. And I hadn’t been properly sick in a long time, but I remembered what a high fever felt like—and this felt like the highest fever of my pathetic existence. I don’t know when the T.V. turned off, but at some point, I noticed how quiet it was.

How did I end up on the couch wrapped in a blanket?

She joined me there. In her pajamas, hair up. Brought two mugs and set them on the coffee table.

“Hi, baby,” she whispered. Pulled her sleeve over her hand and patted my cheek—since when do I cry? “Do you know where you are? What happened?”

It took me a thousand years to respond.

“Panic attack?” I didn’t mean for it to come out as a strangled whisper, but I could’ve swallowed glass, my throat hurt so bad.

Oh.

That roaring sound I heard was my own screaming.

She nodded. Her eyeliner was smudged into a haze around her eyes. “Yeah. Panic attack. But it’s over now. We’re gonna try to recover, but then we need to talk about this, okay?”

I squeezed my eyes shut. I can recall now what she said, but at the time, I couldn’t understand her. The words came to me jumbled.

“Is it okay if I hold you?”

I saw that she was holding an arm out for me. I scooted towards her and hid my face in the crook of her neck. Collapsed into her scent, her softness, her warmth. I crushed a fistful of her pajama top in my hand and squeezed her like she’d disappear if I let go. She peppered kisses all over my forehead and my hairline while she sipped her hot chocolate. Murmured little comforting things to me. She kept feeling the temperature of the second mug, and, after a while, brought it first to her lips to test the temperature, then to mine for me to taste. It had coffee notes, curtesy of the type of chocolate I used, and was rich and velvety without being overly sweet.

“That feel doable, sweetheart?”

Not exactly, but I’d troubled her so much by freaking the fuck out that I sat up and took the mug. Kept sipping it. Let it wash down the pain in my throat.

“’m sorry,” I mumbled.

“Panic attacks are not your fault, baby.”

“No, but I… I should’ve…” heat in my face. “I should’ve gotten help f-for them—”

She placed a hand on my leg. “Sweetheart, I want you to try to stay calm, okay? Just let yourself recover. I promise, we’ll talk about this and figure it out, but right this moment, you need to let yourself calm back down.”

I nodded.

(To Be Continued)

[artistmitchy]

I've seen quite a few people question where the skin graft scars on Strive Faust's chest and arms came from. While there may be a specific reason as to how he got those that we're unaware of, a part of me always thought it was a reference to the manga Black Jack.

Black Jack is a manga series created by famed mangaka Osamu Tezuka. (The creator of Astro Boy, Jungle Emperor Leo, and Unico, among many more.) It began serialization in Weekly Shonen Magazine in 1973 and finished after 25 volumes in 1983.

The manga is about Black Jack, a skilled surgeon with an incredibly distinct look. Born as Kuro Hazama, he adopted the name Black Jack after a horrific childhood accident. When he was a boy, he accidentally stepped on a dormant World War II landmine while playing at the beach with his mother. The explosion resulted in her death, and Kuro was left in critical condition. After many surgeries, which included emergency skin grafting, Kuro survived. The accident left him permanently disfigured, and the stress from his mother's passing made half of his hair grow white. From that day on, he vowed to become a surgeon and save others, much like how a surgeon saved his life.

If you're familiar with Faust's backstory, you can already pick up some similarities between the two. While Black Jack and Faust are both humans, many people see them as monsters. They're both mocked and teased over their appearances, which is something they can't help. Much like Black Jack, Faust also picked up an alternate alias to practice his surgeries under. They're also both back alley doctors. Due to Black Jack's appearance, he couldn't receive a proper doctorate. Instead, he practices without a license, which results in him getting into trouble with the law quite often.

This could all be a massive coincidence, but Black Jack is far from obscure in Japan. As of 2024, Black Jack is the seventh best selling manga of all time, with an estimated 170 million copies sold. You could argue that it's more successful than Astro Boy in some aspects. In 2021, a life size bronze statue of Black Jack and his daughter Pinoko was installed in Tokyo. It was installed to commemorate health workers during the Covid-19 pandemic.

What I'm trying to say is that, while the scars may not be a reference to Black Jack, there's still an absolute possibility they could be.

[lesbian-disaster-academic]

Since there's been some discussion of this on a prior post I made, let's address

Neurodivergent Skill-Regression: What is it & Why Does it Happen?

Content Warning! This post will make brief mention of various topics, including: childhood abuse (not explicit), depression, suicidal ideation, car accidents, the COVID-19 pandemic, and throwing up.

Okay, let's begin with a quick preface. I'm writing from the Global North, in a capitalist economy, and in a country founded on (ongoing!) systems of colonialism. Therefore, that's how I'll be situating this discussion (just because it's what I know best). Neurodivergence and Capitalist Exploitation Under capitalism, productivity and extraction in the name of profit become of the utmost importance. Extraction can take place in the form of extracting physical resources (think fracking on Turtle Island), extracting labour, etc. Ultimately, neurodivergence itself is not an ill-formed or "bad" mind. It is only conceptualized and coded as such because capitalism and various other interlocking systems of oppression are actively hostile to minds that, in some way, subvert capitalist and colonial ideals. (however, this is not to negate, invalidate, or trivialize the fact that adhd/asd/ocd/bpd/etc. are disabilities. by their very nature, they impede and disrupt functioning. what is considered "functional", however, is determined by this capitalist/colonialist state and the things it values. this is all simply to say that we would be able to more easily exist and thrive within a society that doesn't reward self-destruction in the name of accumulating capital for the upper class) Of course, living in a system that is not built for you is going to be exhausting—it takes a toll on you, both physically and mentally. This can be further compounded if you are marginalized in other ways; for instance, if you're a person of colour, working class, a woman, 2SLGBTQ+, an immigrant, or a combination of these.

Masking and Burnout Many neurodivergent folx are forced into positions in which they have to mask. For the sake of clarity, "masking", in this case, involves concealing one's neurodivergent traits. For me, that might look like suppressing compulsions, consciously regulating my facial expressions, working longer and harder to accomplish tasks because I can't focus, or scripting conversations before I have them. These manifestations are often invisible to outsiders, but they take a heavy toll on us, and can often result in neurodivergent burnout. This is where the skill-regression comes in. An Example... Let me give you a personal example of what neurodivergent skill-regression can look like! Prior to the pandemic, I was a highly productive person. I was designated "gifted" (whatever that means) and was top of my class in every single class. I was participating in (and running) multiple clubs, working a steady job, volunteering within the community, and learning new instruments and languages. I was a skilled pianist and painter, and also very athletic. From the outside looking in, I appeared successful: I had a massive scholarship lined up at the most prestigious university in the country. I was generally well-liked. I was creative and skilled in both the humanities and STEM (mostly humanities lol), etcetera etcetera. But I was in no way okay. I was incredibly depressed and suicidal. I had multiple undiagnosed anxiety disorders and neurodivergencies. I was experiencing relentless abuse at home. I was throwing up every few days out of pure fear and stress. I was constantly sick, crying (in secret, and then later too numb to cry), overwhelmed, exhausted, and apathetic. And yet I refused to stop pushing my body and mind to their limit because I had this ingrained belief surrounding my productivity—if I slowed down, would I be worth anything? At the time, to my mind, the answer was a staunch no (even though I didn't apply this thinking to anyone but myself lol). So I repressed everything. I pushed it all to the side and kept moving forward. To put it in perspective, I got hit by a truck at one point, but I was so scared of being late to a thing and disappointing my parents that I just apologized and kept going. This kind of behaviour went on for close to a decade. And then the pandemic hit. And I was forced to stop. I was made to (by virtue of my relative privilege) take a moment to sit down, look around, and actually feel things. And it hit me like a ton of bricks: All the weight of the anger and fear and everything that I had been repressing for the sake of survival came RUSHING in. Now? You want to know what I'm like now? I am very burnt out and incredibly unproductive. I have the attention span of a gnat. Where I used to be able push through exhaustion or else tamp it down with consistently high levels of adrenaline, I now almost ALWAYS feel tired, to the point where I have to lay down. I used to be able to toss together an essay in the span of a couple hours. And, yes, while I can still put an essay together quickly, it’s not going to necessarily be good. Likewise, where I used to be able to mask my neurodivergent traits, I'm now hyperaware of how exhausting it all is, which makes it more difficult to appear neurotypical in public.

The thing is, when you have something like adhd as well as an anxiety disorder, the anxiety can pretty effectively mask the adhd. But once I started medication and more intense therapy, I got a hold on my anxiety and alllll of my coping mechanisms fell away. I no longer had that constant, vibrating fear to force me to maintain attention, and push myself to the breaking point.

It’s like not aging for 80 years and then suddenly having decades collapse into you in the span of moments. So Where Does This Leave Us? Okay, that was a loooong tangent, sorry. Returning to the original point. As the infinitely cool and talented @revenantscholar mentioned in a previous post of mine, when you exist in an unsafe environment (or one which is generally not built with you in mind), it's difficult to hold onto the skills you once had. Your body goes into survival mode and prioritizes keeping you alive. Once you have returned to a space where you can unmask and be physically/emotionally/mentally SAFE, you have the capacity to relearn some of those skills. Not all of them, necessarily, and not all at once. But these things do return—and even if they don't (listen to me, this is important), that doesn't make you stupid/bad/worthless. You are living in a world that is not built for people like you and I, and it sucks, and it's painful and scary, and we will continue to fight for a better future. In the meantime, it's important to remember that you are worthy of care, compassion, empathy, and support regardless of what you can contribute/do. You are incredibly important and I'm so glad you're here. (Thank you for listening. I'm drawing on my human rights knowledge from my degree, and also my own personal experience. However, feel free to correct me or ask any questions you might have! I'm also happy to provide resources/citations if needed. Now go drink water and rest if you need to! Ily!)