#have YOU considered that I am barely eating consistently as it is

[writtenbymoonflower]

how about

and hear me out

room mate! marauders who are obsessed with their shy roomate

oh trust me, hunny, i am hearing you. hope this is okay! shy gn!reader x poly!marauders

cw: nothing really, just fluff, reader is very flustered

1.1k words

Your eyes were blurry as you shuffled into the sunny kitchen. You weren’t used to waking up to the curtains open and breakfast on the stove. You’d lived with people before of course, but none as lively as this bunch. You weren’t complaining, though, you were quickly warming to them, even though you had probably spoken a total of 50 words to your new housemates in the three weeks you had lived with them. Most of these words likely consisting of sorry, excuse me, thank you. 

They had been talking though. Ever since the day you met they had been treating you like their best friend. Not even that. They were all best friends. (Though you considered that wasn’t all, on more than one occasion you had caught Sirius with his head in James’ lap, or Remus’ legs swung over one of the other boys. You had also observed a fair number of kisses between the three boys). But rather, they treated you like something precious, like a porcelain doll they were begging to get a hold of.

That thought made you immediately think of the nickname Sirius (or ‘Pads’ as the boys occasionally called him) had stuck you with. 

“Hey, dollface! You sleep well?” The coal-haired boy looked like he was itching to beckon you under his arm, but resisted. You were thankful, not knowing if you could survive that.

“It was good.” You hummed, barely legible to James over the sound of his bacon sizzling. You padded over to the breakfast table, sitting one chair away from Sirius and his huge bowl of cereal. No sooner had you sat down when a steaming cup of coffee was placed in front of you by a spindly hand. 

“Here you go, dovey.” Remus sat in the chair between you and Sirius. 

“Oi, Moons. You’re blocking my view.” You turned in your chair to look behind you at the ‘view’ he was referring to, brows scrunching in confusion when all you saw was the archway. You heard a light chuckle from Remus and a snicker from Sirius as you whipped back around. The possible meaning dawned on you, making you his your heated face in your mug.

“Don’t torture the poor thing.” James scolded, giving a (what you were sure he believed was comforting) squeeze to your shoulder before he sat on your other side.

“I never tortured anyone.” Remus corrected from behind his morning paper, slowly eating a cup of berry-yogurt. “Collective punishment is a war crime, Prongs” 

“Leavin’ me to the wolves huh, Moons?” Sirius sassed, sipping on his coffee that was mostly just cream and sugar. 

“Oh trust me, I’m sure we all know how much you’d love to be left to the wolf.” James smirked, clearly in on a joke that you had no idea about. He abandoned his teasing to turn to you, fixing a horribly kind look that made your tummy turn to mush. “There is some bacon and eggs on the stove for breakfast, but I’m sure Sirius would let you into his cereal.” 

“There’s also yogurt.” Remus looked pointedly to his near-empty cup. 

“Oh no, I’m okay. I could never take your food. I’m not hungry anyway.” You muttered into your mug. 

“You’ve gotta eat somethin’ babydoll. Can’t have you skipping meals.” Sirius had a playful, if not protective tilt to his tone. 

“I’ll find somethin’ don’t worry.” You scrubbed your bleary eyes with irritated cadence, still on the brink of sleep despite the warm caffeine swirling in your system. Thick fingers wrapped around your wrist to pull your offending hand away. 

“Gentle, sweetheart.” James scolded lightly. “Gonna hurt yourself like that.” He squeezed your hand before letting it go but it felt oddly like your face and your lungs were being squeezed as well. If this was the boys normal, you weren’t sure if you were going to survive. 

You mumbled a sorry looking at the mahogany table like it held the meaning of life, or the extra hour of sleep you desperately craved. 

“What’ve we told you? You say sorry too much, sweet thing. It’s like, your favorite word or something.” Sirius laughed, slurping down his cereal milk and licking his chops. You bit back another apology and rubbed your eyes again, though much more gentle this time. James cooed in sympathy. 

“You still sleepy?” He rubbed your back again, which made you both more heated and more drowsy. 

“Yeah.” You hummed, shamefaced as you played with the hem of your oversized t-shirt. You were thankful that you were still too shy to not wear long pants around them, because they would definitely be able to tell how tensed your legs were. Remus set his paper down.

“Do you have work today, love?” 

“No, ‘s my day off.” James grinned at that, but Sirius spoke up. 

“Happy coincidence! It’s ours too.” He grinned. “How about we all watch something? We can put something on in the lounge room and you can catch a bit of sleep on the settee?” He suggested. You shrunk at the thought of sleeping in front of them, but weren’t opposed to the idea.

“We’ll make sure to wake you up so you don’t sleep the day away.” James added, still rubbing your back. You were easily convinced. 

“Okay, that does sound nice.” Barely above a whisper. 

“We can all have a big lunch when you get up, too. Maybe we could go out?” Remus suggested as he led you gently to the living room. You tried to make your way to the armchair, but you were tugged to the couch. 

“That won’t be comfy, dollface. Here you go.” Sirius sat on the settee close to one arm, Remus by the other. Sirius pulled you between them while James sat on the floor and you whined in protest. 

“No, I’ll move. You sit here, James.”

Remus swore that was the loudest he had ever heard you speak. 

“No, I’m good right here. Thanks though, sweetness.” James reassured. He was sat in the middle, though rather close to Remus so the mousy boy could reach out with one hand and scratch James’ scalp, roving his long fingers through the thick curls. You were so distracted that you were startled when Sirius tugged on you again, maneuvering your head onto a pillow that laid on his lap. You tensed before relaxing into his warmth. You tucked your legs into yourself as Remus covered you with a blanket before going back to loving on James. 

“There you go, baby. That feel nice?” Sirius said, unfamiliarly soft as he stroked your hair, hand a welcome warmth on your scalp. 

Baby. Baby. Baby.

It would surprise you if you woke up from this nap. Your heart had nearly stopped on the spot.

[vatelixx]

Ton 618,

S3-S4ish Spencer Reid x gn!reader

Fluff (no angst… surprisingly). Autistic Spencer (present in all of my one shots bcos it’s canon to me).

──── domesticated time inbetween cases & blind adoration.

Warnings: literally none (who am i???), brief mention of past trauma (Hankel).

w.c: 1.5k

— They’re both nerds who are a little too invested in space. Light biblical imagery & Greek mythology references. My writing has been sufficiently domesticated (dw i’ll be back to angst soon, war is not over.)

Loosely inspired by:

a/n: just giving him what he deserved to have.

────────────

For the first time, in a long time, there is little residing in Spencer’s mind. Beyond warm hands, and soft skin, and the pulse of someone else’s body. Obsessed is one word for it, a textbook definition that can’t truly articulate the ache he derives from the thought of you. Obsessed, fatefully ruined, if this is the work of divine intervention, then consider him, once obstinate in his atheism, entirely, profusely devout.

He’s still thinking about you. What’s new? The memory of your lips pressed against his, the tattooed promise of more, more because it will never be enough. He wants, god when has he ever wanted? Life before appears bleak now, black and white. Academia, pursuits of knowledge, lonely nights and the transient fear of forever being stuck in a cyclical cycle of loneliness.

You think he’s pretty. He smiles on the way home from work, Morgan pressing him, because ‘kid you can’t be that happy for no reason.’ There is a reason, a monumental, life-altering one that waits for him at the door. He likes that, the domesticity. He’s never asked for much, content in his mishaps of intimacy, always baring the weight because he wants needs to be good. For the people around him, for the home he’s carved into his skin, for anything that starves off the decades of isolation.

When he threads his arms around your waist, leaning all of his weight into the contact, you both go stumbling back.

He’s soft. Of course he’s endured more than anyone should, the sharp edge of addiction, the stifling weight of a morbid job that has him fixated, hook line and sinker, compass pointing South every time he’s thrown into the field. But for all of that, he still obtains naive, blinding light.

He burns. Or more so, he warms.

“Hi, hi. Sorry— that wasn’t very eloquent. Can I try again?” He’s halfway out of the door; you have to lean forward, grip his wrist, tug him closer, “Okay.” He laughs, “I’ll take that as a no?”

He’s certain your name is imprinted onto his heart. Carved just for you alone. There is no one else. There could never be anyone else.

That night he falls asleep on your shoulder. Hands interlocked, body splayed out across stressed leather, abandoning his book for the soft drab of safety. There’s a tangled wire of headphones draped between you, knotted further when you pull him, half conscious to bed. He follows mindlessly.

You spend his allocated time off as recluses, abandoning civilisation. No sunlight, his apartment is permanently drenched in molten light. Scattered lamps, balancing off stacked books and messy surfaces. Every morning he’ll wake you with butterfly kisses and the promise of a breakfast he will consistently burn. He’s content, over the moon, to forget the world around him. For it to just be, just the two of you.

Today, as usual, you eat his charred attempt at food. He’s trying, he’s definitely trying, even if the end result is… a health risk. Still, you eat it regardless, without complaint, you eat it.. and then he’s just… kissing you senseless in the middle of his kitchen. Cold tiled floor, and mismatched socks. Fuck, he loves you, he’s never loved someone the way he loves you.

“I’ve been dreaming about falling into black holes recently,” he says when you cradle his face. Pretty features besotted with the sight of you. “Weird. Kinda cool. Please don’t eat anymore of my food.”

“No promises,” you grin, and he has the audacity to pout.

Because that’s not fair, burnt food can cause carcinogens to form, to obstruct digestion and metabolism. “My cooking is going to kill you. Your death will be on my hands. The grief will be immeasurable. I’ll become a hermit, never leave my apartment again. Don’t do that to me.” hands wrapped around your wrists, he preserves the contact. “Please don’t do that to me.”

“Well only because you said please—“

He sighs, audibly, ”You just died, you’re dead, and the only thing you can focus on is a word. A word I very generously repeat, at any given moment.” — he’s polite, he will use his manners, and he will unceremoniously echo please please please to obtain even a fraction of you.

He’s senseless. Too far gone.

You take his hand, press it against your heart. “Still alive. I think?”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, “For now.”

“You’re dramatic—“

He cuts you off, “Did you know one of the largest black holes ever recorded is 66 billion times the mass of the sun? Ton 618.” Pausing to kiss you (a vital necessity), his hands play aimlessly with your hair, strands sliding through the crevices of his fingers. “Imagine falling into that—“ kiss, “You would die obviously,” kiss, “But it would be a pretty cool death.” Kiss. 

Time dilation, worm holes, cosmic demise, you. Sigh— you.

“It would take over 10 billion years for its light to reach earth.” you say, and yeah. Okay. Just casually recite facts to him. That’s okay. He won’t melt, because he’s a rational, dignified, highly-cerebral adult.

Lie. You always know when to talk, sometimes, sometimes, he gets so lost in thought-loops and spirals of intellectual confusion that you have to draw him back to the present. He disintegrates. Every. Single. Time. One intelligent word and the threads of him are woven tightly around your finger.

”You’re stealing my job. And—and you’re doing it better than me. I’m taking a vow of silence. No more words. I’m becoming a monk. Except, maybe without the celibacy?”

“Whore—“

“For you? Always.” he says, knocking his shoulder into yours, “You’re missing the important aspect to this. Don’t discard my threat.”

“Spence, if you ever stop reciting random facts to me at..” you scramble to check the time, early morning, it’s hard to differentiate the hours when they all bleed into one convoluted mess of intimacy. “At 9AM, we will have serious issues. I might get HR involved.“

He’ll ramble about the laws of thermodynamics. Dedicating hours to the philosophical differences between determinism and free-will. You’ll call him a nerd, and he’ll laugh, muffling your protests with his mouth. It’s routine. Something to fall back onto.

 “Hey! Don’t drag HR into our domestic affairs! That’s—“ he interrupts himself to kiss you, again. Just because he can.

Once he’s satisfied that his lips will ache for the next millennium, he continues. “Anyway. I think we should get old together, and then, when we’re losing our minds, and we can’t tell the days apart, we just.. take a casual trip to space, travel through Ton 618. I’d be scared, so I’d hold your hand when we fall. Getting sucked into eternal darkness would be an acceptable way to go.”

He laughs, “You know, as long as you’re by my side, or whatever.”

“Or whatever,” you repeat, before holding out your pinky. “Deal?”

He feeds his own through yours, “Deal.” 

Yeah, just promise eternal devotion to him. That wont have any lasting, fatal effects on his sanity. It’s not like he’ll cling to it for the remainder of his ephemeral existence.

Later that night, when you’re draped in limbs, skin pressed against skin, you sigh against the warm slope of his neck. “You’re reciting the periodic table in your sleep again..”

It’s a habit. A permanent, engrained idiosyncratic that he’s endured since adolescence. He stirs awake, turning to face you in the hazy light. Features swollen, sleep-soft and pretty. “Was I?” He murmurs, finding the audacity to ask, “What element was i on?”

Because that’s clearly essential.

“Osmium,” you say, tucking strands of tousled brown behind his ear. “Gonna continue?”

“Mhm— yeah. Iridium. One of my favourites, thank god you woke me up before I got to it.”

You humour his tendencies; you’re nothing if not a condoner of his weird quirks. “Discovered by Smithson Tennat in 1803.” is your response, “The name comes from Greek Mythology, Iris. Two stable Isotopes, 191 and 193.”

There you go again. Fracturing his mind, and stealing his information before it can fall from bruised lips.

He thinks you might be cut from the same cloth. He thinks he was probably just made for you. “I like the way you say Isotopes.” He mutters, “Like the way you kiss. You always take my top lip.”

There’s no epiphany. No sharp blade, dragging, penetrating, skin, forcing you to confront stifled feelings. They’ve always been there. Red string of fate, Plato’s Symposium: Aristophanes’ account of the ‘other half.’ Hero and Leander. It doesn’t matter. There’s only the here and now.

He does this thing. Often. Where he’ll moan into your open-mouth. Fingers sunk deep into your hair, keeping you impossibly tethered to him. You’re not sure what planet he fell from, but you’re glad they deported him, if only for your selfish benefit of circuiting around him.

“I’m in love with you,” the admittance is easy. Maybe the words have always been waiting for you to verbalise, bated breath, inexorably interlinked. Maybe they’re long overdue. Something pleading to be let out. But, maybe, it matters more to wait until this, when everything is soft and untouchable. Fresh, untainted. He’d like to live in your skin.

Here’s the thing, Spencer always thought he would be the first one to say it. Reciprocation was always a fantastical hypothetical, something he could only blindly hope for. But, to have his illimitable feelings, in their extensive capacity, matched? That’s— more than he ever thought he deserved.

He presses his forehead to yours, “Saying ‘i’m in love with you’ doesn’t measure up, doesn’t articulate even a fraction of what I feel for you.”

He’s pretty sure he could die right here, in this one fragile moment, and be happy with everything he’s accomplished.

[hitomisuzuya]

Hiiiiiii how are you doing? <3

Stepcest Scara playing with us using a remote controlled vibrator while we're trying to play it cool while there's a family gathering pls? I can only imagine the shit eating grin he would have on his face when he looks at reader across the room while his hand presses a button on the vibrator lol

Stepcest, DNI if it makes you uncomfortable, please. Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Sex toy. Edging.

No kidding, that shit eating grin would one for the ages. *Soda is called pop where I live. I am doing..okay..

Scaramouche prided himself in this idea, considered it genius in fact. Even though there was a family gathering going on, the only thing you'd be able to think about was him thanks to the vibrator inside of you. You'd looked so proud and determined, telling him that you could handle anything he had in store.

He was going to enjoy watching his sweet, delicate step sister struggle not to fall apart, craving his cock between your legs instead of a vibrator.

Things had been quiet so far, the vibrator inside you remaining off. And that started to make you think: when was he was going to press that button? He could practically see your mind racing. As much as he was enjoying making you squirm with anticipation, it was time to have his fun with you.

Father gatherings always bored him to tears.

You glanced at Scaramouche before you bent down to get a can of pop out of the ice filled cooler. His shit eating smirk sent a shiver down your spine. Scaramouche rolled the controller in his pocket around and around in his hand, purposely letting a long minute or two drag by, watching you walk over to get some food before he pressed the button.

You nearly dropped the entire plate of potato salad. The toy was on the lowest setting, sending teasing vibrations humming on your sensitive walls. The lowest setting wasn't so bad.

At first.

Your clit started to swell and throb, the wet arousal starting to soak your panties was getting harder to ignore. It wasn't easy to go around, and appear that everything was perfectly normal. In the wake of making polite conversation with another relative, talking about your dog or the weather, thoughts were swirling in your mind.

Of your step brother pounding his cock inside of you, teasing and degrading you about not being able to handle a simple vibrator inside of you. Those thoughts helped your walls to clamp around the vibrator.

You dug your fingernails into the palms of your hands, struggling to keep your focus. Soft vibrations were humming against your sweet spot, so barely there that it made you want to sit down and rub your thighs together, or discreetly sneak inside to rub your clit for a few moments.

All the while you could feel Scaramouche watching you, that shit eating smirk widening on his face.

You gasped, covering your mouth and coughing to disguise a moan. The vibrator abruptly turned up to the medium setting. Vibrations were more consistent, making you twitch as you forced a smile on your face.

"The..the weather certainly has been lovely lately," You managed to say, fidgeting a little realizing your panties were soaked and clinging to your pussy.

"Are you okay?" Your relative asked. They thought you were in distress, but it was quite the opposite.

"N-No, I am fine. Just a little-" You were cut off suddenly, the setting on the vibrator suddenly switched to the highest setting. Struck breathless, you tried to continue your conversation, but in the end, couldn't. "tired," You concluded, digging your fingernails further into your palm.

You couldn't exactly say what was going on. That your step brother had his favorite vibrator inside of you, teasing you. That all you wanted was for him to bend you over and fuck you raw.

You excused yourself, your plate of food forgotten. You bit back a whimper, rubbing your thighs together, trying to concentrate on anything. Your eyes always went right to Scaramouche, who was leaning back casually in his chair, his phone in one hand while the other played with the controller in his pocket. The little shit was casually playing a phone game while he teased you.

The vibrator turned to the lowest setting again, right when you were about to cum. Scaramouche knew the way your body twitched all too well. You were a mess, panting a little as you tried not to squirm in your chair. The vibrations were back to being soft and teasing. Barely there, making it torture since you'd been denied.

You move your hips a little hoping to coax the tip of the vibrator more against your sweet spot, but to no avail. Taking a deep breath, you escaped inside the house. You couldn't have anyone see you start to fall apart like this.

You could feel his smirk on your back as Scaramouche watched you dart into the house. You barely made it into your room. Fuck it if the vibrator was still on the lowest setting. You didn't care. If you could make yourself cum just once then maybe you'd be able to handle yourself back down at the family gathering.

Scaramouche got the intoxicating view of you spreading your legs and moving your soaked panties aside. "Couldn't handle it anymore, huh? How pathetic."

You jumped, your fingers barely grazing your engorged, and throbbing clit. Hearing him call you pathetic made your walls clamp tight around the vibrator. "You were right. I..I couldn't handle it," You swallowed back a moan, the look in your eyes one of frantic arousal.

"Hm? What did you say?" Scaramouche twirled the remote control between his fingers. Your eyes zeroed on his thumb hovering over the button, "repeat that, kitten. I was what?" He pressed the button.

You let out a frustrated sigh, your fingers shaking as they tried to find your clit. "Fine, fine, you were right. I.. I couldn't handle it," Moans you struggled to swallow back were starting to come out.

Scaramouche made sure the door was closed before he crawled onto your bed. "Good girl, it pleases me to hear you say that," He loves how your eyes lit up from the slightest words of praise from him. "Does my precious girl want her step brother to get her off?" He purred teasingly.

Your body immediately melts as Scaramouche turned the vibrator up to the highest setting. His cock pulsed seeing your juices ooze out around the vibrator as he started to fuck it in and out of you.

He knew he couldn't keep you up here long. But there was nothing saying later that night, he couldn't watch you use it while you took his cock down your throat.

[azurlily]

Guess whose not dead?!

(This is an actual post with a character, just scroll down to the pink bow if you don't want to read this.)

I was in and out of the hospital for a long time. I'm sorry I haven't been writing, but I'm doing so much better. I've closed requests so I can catch up on the ones I currently need to do.

I also wanted to mention some of the newer works(that AREN'T being requested) that I plan to make will probably be either smut or darker stuff. It's a way for me to cope and I enjoy writing altogether.

Yandere!CEO x Fem!Reader

Morena(yan!ceo) x fem!reader

Synopsis: You're a young woman working in the tech industry, you know people(mostly men) don't take you seriously. Due to the constant stress of needing to be better (just to be considered good) you are constantly anxious and jittery, you've also developed a depressive mindset and you consistently struggle with taking your medication.

You just got a new job by a large, female owned, tech company! You thought you'd feel better and you wouldn't have to deal with a toxic environment. You were dead wrong; your boss is a bitch and expects constant perfection and no less. You were just barely able to make it under her radar, until she starts going through files- and you find yourself in her office with a deal you just aren't allowed to refuse.

Not like you can refuse a demon after all?

TW: Non-consensual kissing and physical touch, somewhat mentions future kidnapping.

The reader is kissed(while under a spell that takes away will-power from their body) and is forced to sign a contract against their wishes.

You stand quietly, with your hands in front of you- clasped together so tightly you'd think you were about to get in your knees and pray. But no, instead you were ready to beg to not be fired.

That's what this was right? You were getting fired and your horrible, asshole, bitch-faced boss wanted to say it to your face. You could cry, you almost did on the way here.

Yet as much as you wish you weren't in this situation, as much as you wish you could repent for whatever you did; you genuinely have no idea why you've been called here. You've never gotten a write up, all your reports are clean and bug free, and you work well with seemingly everyone.

You stand face forward, staring at the woman who decides wether you get to eat for the next month. The same woman who while you hate her, you can't -no you won't- deny her beauty. You-

"Hello?! Do you hear me or are you too busy pissing yourself to pay attention?"

You look down, wondering if you genuinely did pee yourself, only to see dry pants and floor. You look back up at her and she gives you the look of someone who both wants to laugh and yell(not in the good way).

You wondered if there was something who had tried to sue her for how rude she was. I'm sure there could be some sort of case, as long as there was proof. Hell, even witnesses would do.

"Sorry, ma'am. What exactly is it you called me for? Has my team done something wrong, did we miss some meeting, or did-"

She stands up, slamming her hand on the desk so loudly it echoes. You nearly jump out of your skin- was she going to hit you?!

"Be quiet. I can't handle you prattling on like a cow. I'm not firing you, nor am I firing anyone on your team. In fact, it's quite the opposite. Oh and please- call me Miss Morena. Thank you."

Oh she is definitely a condescending bitch.

You thought for a moment, 'quite the opposite'. So you aren't getting fired, hell you may be getting a raise! Maybe Morena wasn't so bad of a boss. Maybe she just likes hard workers.

"Thank you, ma- Miss Morena. If I may ask: does this mean I'm getting a promotion?"

Morena smiles, not the smile you give someone when they're right about something. The smile you give when you're a fox, and you've just cornered the bunny you've been trying to catch.

"Yes, a promotion of sorts. I actually have a contract for you, but I can give you the gist and read the rest to you later."

Morena pulls an inch thick stack of papers from the desk. She sets them aside with a pen and slowly steps out from the desk. Morena signals you to come closer, but you only take a few steps forward. You could practically feel how badly this situation was going to go.

As Morena got closer, you began to feel more compelled to make eye contact with her. Like someone was whispering into the back of you mind, telling you to look up. To look into the beautiful blue eyes that Miss Morena holds. To never look away; keep your eyes on hers.

Don't look away from me. I always get what I want and that isn't changing anytime soon, little rabbit.

"Well I've been looking over employee information and I noticed you moved from very, very many jobs before you got to this one. Never staying in one place. I never really liked people like that, and from what I've seen, people like that have done the same with my company. Now I hope -very strong word here- that someone with skills like yours wouldn't do something to this company. I hope that you'd stay, willingly of course. You would stay willingly, right?"

Of course you would, you never had any interest in leaving. You planned to stay past the one year mark, past the time where everyone would get raises in order to ensure you were getting a that this place was a good opportunity. You loved it here, you loved you teammates, your boss, you loved the office building itself.

"Of course I'm staying, Miss Morena. I would never leave."

The words coming out of your mouth felt robotic, they felt like you were lying to yourself and others. Like you were in your body, but you weren't the one speaking.

"Good girl, now go over to my desk and sign you name on all of those papers. Don't read them, you don't need to. You can put all your trust in me."

You did exactly as you were told, you signed every paper with you signature. You didn't even think, your body was moving like second nature. You had this warm feeling in your gut, this safe and controlled feeling. You like feeling like this- don't you?

You hear some shuffling behind you and yet you can't turn around to see what's going on. You only hear a voice.

"You know while your under I guess I can explain. You can't really yell at me or try to run away, so I can speak my peace. You're going to be the newest human I suck the life out of! But hey, for the next few months you'll get to live lavishly and without fear of anything. Other than me of course!"

Your brain registered what she was saying, but you couldn't respond. What were you doing to do? What could you do?

"Come here bunny."

You turn around and walk straight into Morena's arms. She gently grabs your face, you just noticed three of her fingers on her left hand have been filed down. Meanwhile the nails on her right hand, as well as her pinky and thumb on her left, are long and colorful.

Morena pulls you closer to her, her lips ghosting over your mouth. You feel her press her lips to yours and you get an overwhelming feeling of disgust wash over you. You feel nothing but utterly dirty as she kisses you, you feel like someone's just stabbed you and is trying to clean the wound to make themselves feel better about the act.

Your eyes are wide open the entire time, so you watch Morena go from kissing you deeply to pulling back in what looks to be shock. Her pupils dilate slowly, her eyes relaxing and you see nothing but black take over.

"Oh...oh you're much too sweet to kill."

Morena gently moves you head to the side pressing her tounge against your neck. You feel her shiver and watch as she pulls back with a dark smile on her face.

"I take back what I said about you enjoying these next couple of months. . . You'll get to enjoy such pleasures for the rest of your life. With me."

You let your body process her words this time, you don't know how to react. Instead you feel your eyes wet themselves, your expression hadn't even changed. And yet, you were crying. Morena notices almost immediately and you watch her face distort itself into a disdainful look of annoyance, until it twists into one of sadistic pity.

"Oh, shh, bunny. Hush now, stop those tears. I'll take the spell down once were home, in my home you wont be able to run away. So you can have a tantrum all you want there. I know you don't like me right now, you maybe even hate me, but give it some time. You'll realise you need someone, and I'm the best you'll be getting for the rest of your pathetic human life."

Everything goes black after that.

[bonnieura]

every time i hear a freaky grandma nitpick JFK's weight after 1960 an angel loses its wings and god kills a kitten. I cant ever understand why they [american public] are so fixated with his appearance and especially his weight. It just screams fatphobia. literally no one is dying if he gained a few pounds . its not ww3. The way its said is always just so condescending and backhanded? putting his early life his illnesses his medications and his plenty near-death experiences into consideration i am damn glad he managed to be even if only a little, HEALTHY . something he literally never got the chance to say about himself

you can say that it's a given considering his whole campaign strategy was built around his *youth* and looks in general but that does not take away from the RUTHLESSNESS i see from people when his weight is the subject of matter. and thats from today in *2024* like jesus christ imagine how it was in the 60s 😭

you can say that the "reason he put on weight" (as if it even needs a reason, he wasnt overweight or anything at all) was to look less boyish and more like formidable or something for the elections. he already had to deal with criticism on being too young for the presidency. And all of that isnt something to be ashamed or remorseful of at all either?? I genuinely dont get why so many to this day just outright degrade him for it. as if a middle aged man not being borderline underweight is satan's incarnate.

speaking of underweight, he was the aforementioned for YEARS during his service in the senate and the house. having just returned from ww2 with near fatal injuries he was clearly ill and malnourished. And yet i still see people romanticize it as if its something commendable. You can commend him pulling through and getting his health together even if just barely, not whatever people glorify of his illness

If you read a little back you can see i mentioned his early life. well yeah thats cause his parents single handedly almost gave him and his siblings [tw] || eating disorders || [unfortunately i wouldnt be surprised if he had one] from disturbingly young ages . Im certain that it did a number on him and stuck to some degree. So I am damn glad he was able to break out of it [or at least look like he did , i cant tell you whether he did manage to break out or not considering he was hypervigilant on his appearance till the day he hit the grave atp

plus im pretty sure some of his medicine consisted of cortisone [known for puffing up the face and leading the patient to gain weight]. I hate how hyperfixated people are with his weight and body. yeah no damn wonder he was so worried 24/7 and love or hate the man literally no one should have to go through that. theres so much more i wanna say rn but im tired of yapping

[redheadspark]

14. “My love for you will truly become my downfall, I just know it.” with Oliver & that'll be it from me bestie 🙂 Happy Writing!

A/N - STELLA! I hope you like this, bestie!

Happy

Summary - You and Oliver have different interest, but the same love for one another

Warnings - Mix of angst and fluff :)

“Come on, you can do it,”

“Do I really have to?”

“You promised you would,”

Oliver could see that you were watching him with a soft smile on your lips, your eyes glistening in the evening moon as he sighed and looked back in front of him, down at the Mooncalf that was watching him with its massive blue eyes and a chirp.  You had to admit, it looked downright adorable and cute, but you were keeping it to yourself as your boyfriend, Oliver Wood, was holding out some veggies in his hand to feed the Mooncalf. 

It was part of your Care for Magical Creatures assignment, Professor Kettleburn called you one of his brightest students and an amazing fifth year with a keen eye for Magical Creatures.  You considered him one of your favorite professors at the school, and to get some extra marks and make up for assignments you missed, he asked you to help feed some of the creatures in the corral outside the Hagrid’s Hut. You could spend hours out there within the corrals of the creatures if you could, then again it would look odd to others.  But you never cared, you found the company of the creatures were more enjoyable than of the students,  Sure you had some friends and would spend time with them, but it was nothing like being with Kneazles, Puffeskins and even Diricawls. 

Your boyfriend, Oliver Wood, was opposite of you.  He would rather fly and play quidditch than be with Puffeskins and Nifflers.  He didn’t mind the class at all, but it was not his forte.  That was your department, yet you two compliment d one another as a couple.  Though other students didn’t see the appeal with the pair of your being together for about a year, you both were content.  He made you laugh, you made him feel at ease.  Seeing the two of you clearly enjoying each other’s company.  The whispers of the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain dating the Beast Whisperer would always be consistent and hovering over you two throughout the year you both were together.  But neither of you cared to listen in on those rumors.  You loved Oliver and he loved you, it was all that matters in the end.  

But as of late, you both had a bit of a fight when it came to eat other’s interests.  Not that you hated that he played quidditch, you admired it.  He was a natural at the game and he loved playing anytime he could.  But it was when the last month you two barely had time for one another.  Being the Captain for the Gryffindor Quidditch Team meant that he was busy and barely had time to be with you.  It was eating you alive to think negative about something that Oliver loves.  And it wasn’t that he didn’t acknowledge it, he knew he was spending less time with you and more time with his team or planning out plays on his own. 

“It would be nice to have more time with you, not to be next to you while your head is buried in your playbook!”

“You know how important being captain is to me!”

“I do, and I am not saying it’s not important! I just want to know where I belong in your busy life!”

It came to a head one stormy night in the Gryffindor Common Room, you coming in from being buried under books at the library and seeing Oliver still hunched over his playbook, right where you left him two hours again.  Two Horus before he swore he would join you in the library after he was done with his playbook, but he never showed.  After waiting two hours for him and feeling a massive he ache coming through, you had enough and abandoned your study date.  Oliver saw you storm into the Common Room, a scowl on your face and papers sticking out half-hazardly out of the books you took with you.  He then realized what happened after checking his watch, and before he could apologize to you as he stood up to stop you, you brushed past him.

“Don’t even start, Wood,” you growled, Wood looking in shock as you walked up the stairs and away from him.  He felt like he crushed your spirit after breaking a simple request and promise, not realizing that both Fred and George Weasley were sitting near one of the massive stained windows watching the whole thing.  

“He’s in trouble,” George whispered to his twin, but Oliver heard it and gave the twin a death glare.  

Oliver found you the next morning, calming down the stairs with bags under your eyes and flushness in your cheeks.  He knew you were going to head down to breakfast and he was going to walk with you, meeting you in front of the fireplace and then engulfing you in his arms.  You hugged him tightly, Oliver squeezing you a bit tighter.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” He said against your head.

He made a promise that he would put Quidditch to the side when it was time to be with you.  He felt terrible after that night, making a note himself to make sure he carved time, real time, out for you.  You were grateful that he was doing to make change, and although you felt bad in how you reacted that night, you were still happy.  You apologized to him, he shook his head and framed your face in his hands.

“I need to be with ya more than I realized,” He confessed to you as he scanned your eyes, the pair of you sitting side by side at breakfast that morning in The Great Hall,”Bein’ with ya makes me happy, if not happier, than I have ever been playin’ quidditch. I didn’t mean to ignore us in the process, and I won’t mess that up again,”

Since then, you two made more time together. It was more of blessing for Oliver since you could tell once he was not thinking about Quidditch, it was a bit more relaxed.  Even the twins pulled you aside one day after Defense Against the Dark Arts, praising you for making sure he would take a break.

“Thanks to you, he’s less of an ass!” George said in a chuckle.

Oliver was even willing to help you out with Magical Creatures, as subject he was not great in.  You didn’t mind, you were simply glad he was showing interest in the subject since you loved it so much.  When you two would study together he would ask questions about certain creatures.  You could tell it was not a familiar thing to him, but he wasn’t going to shy away from it either.  It made you smile inwardly, seeing Oliver put in the effort.

Just like now, under a full moon, with a newborn mooncalf looking up at Oliver and was ready to be fed veggies.  Professor Kettleburn saved a herd of Mooncalves from poachers that were roaming the highlands not too far away.  He was going to help mend some of their injuries before re-releasing them I the wild, also having only a creation number of his top students study them in the evenings under a full moon.  It would be the only time a moon calf would be out and fully active.  You were one of his best students, and he invited you to come feed them while he was woking away with some of the Thestrals that were also in one of the corals.  

You brought Oliver along, whom has never seen a mooncalf before.  

"My love for you will truly become my downfall, I just know it.” He grumbled, though you said him have a small smile and not be serious about it. You rolled your eyes as he then looked at the mooncalf.

“Here ya go,” He mumbled, reaching out a bit more as the small mooncalf chirped at him with his amazing blue eyes. The mooncalf then reached out, barely on his tiptoes and took a few bites from Oliver’s open palm.  Oliver chuckled from the sight as you watched in amazement.

“You’re rather good,Oliver,” you reassured him as he shook his head.

“Naw, he was just hungry is all,” He countered but you shook your head.  

“A mooncalf is skittish around those they don’t know, real skittish.  This one trust you, and sometimes that takes a while for a mooncalf to build trust,” You explained, grabbing another set of veggies to give him, “This time, lean down a bit more since he’s a baby,  There you go,”

Oliver leaning over the pen a bit more, getting closer to the creature as the creature ate some more from his palm.  You could see Kettleburn from the corner of your eye to the right taming a Thestral, looking at you and Oliver with a wide grin.  He could see how you were showing Oliver how to care for the mooncalf, being the professor yourself.  

Oliver laughed as the mooncalf’s tongue licked at his palm, you giggling alongside of him as he wiped the saliva on his robes, “Cheeky thing ain’t he?”

“He likes you!” You hummed as you leaned over to kiss his cheek, “As do I.  Thank you, for coming out here with me,”

Oliver looked over at you, pecking you on the lips as he grinned and shrugged, “I don’t mind spendin’ time doin’ this with ya, since I know it makes ya happy.If you’re happy, I’m happy,”

It would be your mantra together, after graduating Hogwarts and getting married.  Oliver would play quidditch professionally while you would become the Care of Magical Creatures professor at Hogwarts.  

The End

[deramin2]

Charts For Assessing Pain And Fatigue

As a person with chronic pain and chronic fatigue, I often find it helpful to use scales to communicate how I'm doing, both for myself to contextualize it and so others have an idea how I'm doing. It's especially helpful for doctors who take you more seriously when you have data.

But I'm really bad at just assessing it in my head, especially consistently. Internalized ableism means I always feel like I'm just being a wimp and I really minimize my pain. So assessment scales that make me look at my behaviors really help break me out of that and be more honest. They also keep me more consistent so the days is more useable.

Both scales in a spreadsheet

Pain Scale

This scale was given to me in a hospital with no indication of where it came from in a really basic badly formatted table. This is my cleaned up version formatted to be saved on a phone or printed.

0 - No Pain - Pain free

2 - Minimal - Pain is barely noticeable; tightness

3 - Mild - Feel a low level of pain entering awareness only when my attention is devoted to it

4 - Uncomfortable - Pain is troubling but can be ignored most of the time; am able to continue activities

5 - Moderate - Moderate pain but no break in activity or concentration; guarded movement patterns

6 - Distracting - Pain is troubling and breaks through concentration but is tolerable; activity level changes.

7 - Distressing - Pain is intense and preoccupies my thinking; can complete tasks but it is difficult and must cease some demanding activities; considering pain medication or other pain reducing agent.

8 - Intense - Severe pain that makes concentration difficult; can do only non-demanding activities; taking pain medication, etc. Can't carry on a conversation well, pacing , etc.

9 - Severe - Cannot concentrate on anything else; sweating, unsteady breathing, can do almost nothing. Can barely talk.

10 - Immobilizing - Excruciating pain, constant; unable to move.

Fatigue Scale

This was floating around Tumblr in the colorful version. I can't print it, I can't read it with the colors when I'm tired, and I wanted the scales to normalized going the same direction so here's my formatting version:

0 - Not tired at all.

1 - Slightly tired, but still able to carry on as normal with little to no difficulty.

2 - Finding everything more effort than usual, but still able to carry on.

3 - Tiredness makes it hard to enjoy activities that are usually fun, but still able to work or study (with some difficulty).

4 - Possibly able to do some work or studying, depending on how much effort it takes. May choose to work or study from home. Avoiding activities that take a lot of energy.

5 - Mostly unable to work or study (except low effort tasks that can be done from home) can go out (for example to buy food) but only if essential.

6 - Too tired to go out, but still able to move around the house and do activities that require little energy and focus. Preparing a meal is difficult. Can't work or study.

7 - Doesn't need to lie down and can walk around the house, but can't stand for more than a few minutes without resting. Finding it hard to eat some foods. Can't focus on anything easily.

8 - Able to sit up for a while and walk around the house if absolutely necessary. Unable to eat most food. Holding a conversation is difficult.

9 - Able to sit up for a short time and can walk short distances (with difficulty), e.g. to get a drink or go to the toilet. Can't eat.

10 - Can barely sit up. Needs assistance getting out of bed.

Sources

I don't know where either of these came from originally or who to credit, but I'd like to. (Normally I wouldn't repost people's work but the public benefit here outweighs those concerns for me.) Please reblog if you do and I'll edit it in. I just want them available to more disabled people.

[nyxthepixystick]

Birthday Fails

Jude Jazza x Lillianne (oc)

Content Warnings: Fluff, A god-awful inedible cake, mentions of throwing up, idk pure chaos

Word Count: 890

A/N: Jude's birthday fic that is 11 days late. Better late than never...I hope you enjoy the chaos that I have created. Also, I have a Christmas fic I gotta post that I also hope will be done well. Also thanks to @wistfulwanderingone for beta reading it.

Lillianne looked at Ellis in the kitchen, then she looked at the mess of cake in front of her. 

“Can you decorate it to make it look better?” Ellis questioned as he tried to make sense of a cake that was half inflated and the other half barely risen. It also was burnt on top. Luckily the insides wouldn’t be seen because no one would eat it after that. 

Lillianne rarely baked. She was a savory meats type of person, so when she attempted to make a cake, she didn't even look at the recipe and, instead, winged it. “I mean. We can try?” She hadn’t even considered decorating it. 

“Did you make the frosting for it?” 

Lillianne shook her head. “I mean, can't we just throw some fruit on it and call it a day?” 

Ellis gave her head a pat. “No, you have to actually attempt to hide it. I know you want to make Jude happy.” 

Lillianne groaned as she picked up the package of powdered sugar and started to add it into a bowl, “Alright, alright. Hopefully, this will work.” 

“That's too much.” Ellis grabbed the bag before she let the entire thing go into the bowl. “Do you want me to take over?” 

“No. I can happily do this myself.” She was determined. She knew there was powdered sugar in frosting. What else could there be? “Can you pass me the eggs?” She heard of the basics of royal icing before. She cracked the eggs into the bowl and started to mix it. 

“It’s egg wh-” 

“I know what I'm doing, Ellis.” She mixed the eggs and powdered sugar together. She had this. Lillianne wanted to add a little color so she grabbed random berries from the basket in front of her. “I am an esteemed baker, and the cake just decided not to work, that's all.”  

Ellis nodded at Lillianne with all her stubbornness. He wondered how there weren’t more fights between her and Jude. They were two of the most stubborn people he knew. “Why are you just smashing a bunch of different berries?” 

“For color.” Lillianne smashed the berries before throwing them into the bowl.

Ellis, once again, sighed at his friend. Why was she like this? “You're going to mess up the consistency even more.”

Lillianne just kept mixing the frosting. “It's fine. It's still frosting and it's still edible.” She smiled before pouring it onto the cake. She took a spatula and spread it over the top and sides of the cake. It had an interesting look to it, but it was a perfect cake. “Jude is going to love this cake.” 

Jude did not love the cake. “The fuck is this shit?” He stared down at the piece his lover had cut for him. The cake on the inside was not good. It looked gummy. It looked inedible. 

“Your birthday cake!” Lillianne exclaimed in pure excitement at her boyfriend. “I made it with love and care for you!” She looked down at her piece. Sure, it wasn't the prettiest, but she did work hard on it. 

Jude poked his piece with his fork, And the cake jiggled. A birthday cake shouldn't be moving like this. “Ya sure? It looks like someone is trying to poison me.” 

“I am sure! I worked really hard on it,” she huffed. “I'll even take a bite for you!” She took A small piece with her fork and placed it in her mouth. As it hit her tongue, she almost audibly gagged and wanted to throw up. She forced herself to swallow It without making a weird face. “See, told you!” 

Jude rolled his eyes as he knew her stomach wasn't going to be able to handle that bite. In no time, she ran towards the trash can. “Yea, doesn't seem to be edible.” 

“It is! It just-” She stopped herself as she tried to make up some excuse. There was no excuse for this monstrosity. “You try baking! It's extremely difficult,” she pouted. She truly tried for his birthday. 

Jude chuckled at her, “Ya ever heard of a recipe?” 

“Well, of course! But I know the basics of making a cake, so it couldn't have been that hard,” Lillianne defended herself. It's not like cooking where you don't need to be accurate with measurements and be on point, but how was she supposed to know that? She picked up the pieces of the cake to just toss them out. “Maybe I should have just asked Victor to make it. I mean at least he knows how to bake.” 

Jude shrugged. “Next year, yer not allowed off to attempt to decorate and make a mini birthday celebration for me. It's redundant.” 

“Well, if you make a cake, then you'll see how hard it is!” 

“Why don't we make a wager? Yer birthday is coming up in a few weeks. I make a cake, easily, and show you how easy it is to make. If I fail, I owe you something. If I win, you owe me something. Deal?” 

“Oh, it's a deal, but Ellis isn't allowed to help.”  Lillianne was going to watch him as he made his cake, and of course, try to distract him during. She was going to win a bet for once. She, in fact, did not win the bet. 

[heart-eyed-trans]

Hypersexuality

What exactly is it? this is a disorder (yes, a disorder) often confused with simply being 'high sex drive.' It is often a trauma response, while most commonly resulting from sexual trauma it is not always the case. no matter how it happens though it is not something that one can 'fix' as much as many i've talked to on the matter wish it could be. (i would also like to add that this disorder is not ALWAYS a trauma response) most commonly it characterises itself as extremely frequent, uncontrollable and/or intense sexual fantasies, urges, or behaviours. This is *barely* controllable if at all in many cases.

it has previously been identified by the names of "nymphomania" and "satyriasis" though i believe both of those terms are considered either outdated or problematic, i could not get a consistent answer on the matter but to be safe please do not use them. It is quite controversial in the psychiatric field whether or not it should become a clinical diagnosis. I will not be getting into that debate here as my personal beliefs on the matter won't change anything at the moment. Okay let's talk about some problems

People with Hypersexuality can be very susceptible to addiction to nsfw content, i'm not going to go into the specific things but i'm pretty sure you can guess they can also immensely struggle with self image as very often people with HS can find it difficult to feel wanted/needed without some kind of sexual relationship, potentially resulting in depressive episodes or outright springing forth eating disorders or other such mental health issues. i am putting heavy emphasis on this next part because i have had MANY arguments about this topic with many people.

People under the age of 18 can have HS.

unfortunately for myself and many, many others this disorder does not have a minimum age requirement. and those who do have it as a minor are constantly treated as if their problem does not exist. "it's just puberty" is a phrase used far too often by people who don't know what they're talking about to disregard the struggles. minors with this disorder are often susceptible to being groomed online or otherwise and potentially get into dangerous situations along those lines 'intentionally' (for lack of a better term) or otherwise due to the aforementioned self image issues resulting in them feeling as if they need that kind of relationship.

all this is to say: this condition can be dangerous in unexpected ways, especially so for minors. I hope i've at least been a little helpful to whoever is reading this, please don't hesitate to ask me something if you want to.

[starcrossedandstupid]

I sometimes struggle with calling myself disabled. While I have a few things that can be classified as disabilities, none of them are visible. And when I’m not actively going through something where having these disabilities heavily disables me, it’s hard to remember that they do. It is such a normal part of my life that it doesn’t feel like it’s harder to live like this.

I get pretty bad migraines. They come on at the start of my period, and whenever I’m stressed. I had a horrible chain of them a few months back, and I could not do much aside from lay in bed and hope I would be better. Doing anything else required so much effort that sure, maybe I could do it, but it was incredibly unhealthy for me. But, when I don’t have one for a while, it fades a little. Because since I’m not dealing with them now, and it’s not *that* often currently, since I’m not so stressed anymore, that it isn’t a disability. Even though I have gotten them consistently over my life, and know that genetically, they are something that will always happen to me.

I’m type one diabetic. It ‘activated’ so to speak, three-ish years ago, and it affects my whole life. Especially eating and exercise. I rely on medical equipment and vials of insulin to live, to act as my mechanical pancreas. But it’s become a part of my life that is incredibly normal to me. I forget all of the extra work I have to do to live with it. And it’s not like I can’t eat or something. I’ve not lost a limb or the ability to use my legs. So I forget that it’s a disability at all, and try to convince myself it barely counts.

I’m autistic. I have always been autistic. In many ways, it has helped me get ahead, academically. Or at least I think so. I’m scientist, but I think so true, especially as I know that happens often in low support need autistics. But it has also put me behind, socially. I don’t understand so much of how it all works. But, I worked hard to overcome those best I can. Learn to make eye contact, work overtime to understand social queues, make myself communicate in those ways. I learned how to because I could and I needed to. So I forget how much more effort it takes for me to perform at was is realistically still a little below the standard. It’s helped me get ahead, and I’m not that far behind, am I? But I am, and I worked double to not be.

All of these things can make me disabled. They do make me disabled. But I forget about it and try to convince myself otherwise, that I’m not ‘disabled enough’ to be considered as such. But I am. And this is a reminder to myself of that.

This is a reminder to you, too.

[sm-writes-chaos]

Hello, and happy Blorbo blusday!! I'm well *checks clock* 1h late gasp! As an excuse I can only say that today I have been packing and I forgot it was Thursday. (As usual I am @writeblr-of-my-own) ANYWAYS. For today's question, I'd like to know about food preference and cooking skills of your blorbo(es)! What can they cook, what they like to eat, whether they are good in the kitchen, or better away from it and close to a fire extinguisher!

Hello! It seems I am late as well! About four hours till blorbo blursday ends for me.

Anyways, food!

First up, Twuecud: (this is gonna be long)

Gage is an absolutely horrible cook. He can barely cook oatmeal without burning it somehow. This incorrect quote fits him:

Nicole: Ew. What kind of tea is this? Gage: I boiled gatorade.

I think hes a sandwich guy as for food preference.

Tylee loves anything if you put sprinkles on it, 'cause it "looks prettier." When they went camping she only brought jellybeans and goldfish for food. She is not trusted in the kitchen. She will get distracted while cooking and set off the fire alarm.

Alison loves chips. A true connoisseur, she will tell you anything you need to know about them. Although when it comes to cooking it starts well, but ends up burnt every time. (Probably because of her curse, did I ever mention that?)

Nicole is loyal to Popsi, the sponsored drink in her favorite show. She refuses to follow a recipe when baking. It ends up with a lot of flour on the floor, and lumpy cakes. She can decorate them well though, with swirly bows and perfect cursive. She bakes cakes just to decorate them, throwing them out afterwards. Unless she forgets and an unlucky person comes along to take a bite, ending up with a mouthful of salt and under cooked batter.

Jee likes to help Nicole decorate sometimes, as he's majoring in graphic design, (is that a real major?) He is very lazy when it comes to food, ordering pizza and eating ramen when he can. He put's peanut butter on foods that shouldn't ever have peanut butter, and his friends often catch him doing it and try to get him to stop.

Vishal is not aware of what cooking is. He was fed specially made food from professional cooks,('cause rich), and he probably hasn't ever set foot in a kitchen. Once he discovers them though, I bet he'll love burritos.

Mikal is the only competent chef. He is the only one with enough patience to watch a boiling pot. But of course he tries to make machines to do things for him. He likes cooking a lot more when it's for friends and not just for himself. He likes to impress them. As for eating food, he loves all things bread. And he's Jewish so he doesn't eat pork.

-

Now 1950 Again:

Daniel can cook surprisingly well if he actually tries, not so good at making a plate look good though. He loves brownies, especially the ones his mom makes.

Dr.Marv cannot cook to save his life. He eats whatever's lying around, whether that be a stale taco shell, or leftover takeout. Food was something his wife always made, and just thinking about a homemade meal makes him sad. (woah didn't realize how much trauma dr marv must have holy crap)

-

And finally, How Hope Made Her a Hero:

Norah does not have many food options as of now, just what she can manage to buy from what little money she can earn because her father certainty isn't helping. Which mostly consists of bread and jam that Miss. Marmel gives her for free. She could probably cook well considering a little fact that comes in later ;) I think she'd love fish a lot.

Rufus is good at the hunting and killing part, but cooking not so well. He possesses the determination and patience to cook, but is clueless for the steps to take. Norah will leave him to watch any meat cooking while she goes and does something else, and Rufus is eager to help.

Alphair uses magic of course to cook all his meals. If he doesn't understand a meal though, like a really complicated recipe, the magic will get confused and make a disaster. If you told him to make a grilled cheese sandwich without magic I think he would cry.

Whoo that's about all! Thank you for the ask I loved talking about this!

[chronically-clueless-and-tired]

Hi, it's me. Here's an introduction to my story and motivation for my health journey. I hope you join me as I navigate adulthood, my wellness, and chronic illness.

 Where to begin? Firstly, welcome. I suck at explaining myself so please hear me out. I am a 19-year-old girl from North America who has, for a year now, been suffering from a mysterious illness. For a year now, I have dealt with absolute hell, unable to regain control of my life. My life consists of nausea and vomiting, headaches and fatigue, and just a hell lot of mental issues. This goes without saying: the daily mental fog. I want to gain control of my health and life narrative. Anyone dealing with chronic health issues probably understands the constant patronizing and dismissal. Some people assume it isn't that bad, and some people assume I'm faking it. Most importantly, they probably understand the loss of self-identity. Your illness becomes you. What you like, dislike, hobbies, and traits are masked by symptoms and accommodations. I have had my true self ripped away from me, and the worst part is, I have no one to blame. I want to change, though. I want to feel and be healthier. My life is stuck at the moment. I keep seeing others reach the goals I had set for myself, and I want to change. My goal with this vlog is to have a diary, an outlet for how I feel while I document my health journey and my journey into regaining control of myself. 

Maybe we should start at the beginning. I wasn't always a bitter, depressed puke machine, believe it or not, this used to not be my life at all. I used to be very healthy and full of energy. Something changed at one point, and to this day, I spend hours overanalyzing what and where everything went wrong. I don't even understand the timeline. All I know is that on Christmas morning 2023, I woke up with the flu and nausea, and ever since then, I have never been the same. To go from exploring the world to being terrified of violently throwing up in front of strangers daily is a big jump. I've tried to get help before, but American medicine was just not doing it. Not that it wasn't working, just that my doctors did little to nothing to get something working. Seriously, once a month I would go into an appointment and be told essentially "that's so weird and not normal... good luck though! Same time next month?" I'm ashamed to admit I did show up same time the very next month. In December 2024, my Mom was overhearing me puke my guts out every day and encouraged me to leave the country to get another opinion from another healthcare system. My mom and I traveled to another country, and the ride there destroyed me. Remember the mental fog I mentioned earlier? Yeah, so my memory isn't spot on, but from what I can remember, the ride was not fun. It was a 4-hour drive to the airport, 3 3-hour plane ride, and then a 2-hour drive from the airport to the place we were staying. The drive to the airport went well until the final 30 minutes. I started to feel sick. Arrived at the airport, threw up (so embarrassing), and prepared for security and boarding. I got fruit snacks and Gatorade at the airport, which I could barely hold down. Once we got on the plane, I found out my assigned seat was an aisle seat right next to two strangers. I felt nauseous the entire plane ride, and even got up to throw up a couple of times. I felt so judged every time I went to throw up until I saw all the flight attendants playing a card game while eating chips and taking shots of Fireball. It was weirdly comforting. I landed, threw up at the airport once more before going through immigration. The cab ride was my real introduction to hell. No, seriously, for a second, I considered the possibility that I had died and this cab ride was my hell. To set the scene, it was hot and I was sweating, I had a migraine, and of course, an insane amount of nausea. This is where the mental fog comes into play. I cannot remember if I fell asleep or what happened, but all I know is one second I was sitting up and the next I was lying my head down, just waking up. I might've fainted, but the truth is I can't remember, and even if I did, I was glad I fainted, took off an hour from the drive. As soon as we got to our destination, I jumped out of the cab and immediately went to bed. Those following 3 days weren't as bad. I didn't eat because I was scared of throwing up, but I wasn't hungry either. Long story short, I went to the doctor, where he didn't diagnose me with anything specifically, but he did explain to me what was happening. He explained that because I often fasted for long hours, the acid in my stomach didn't know what to do with food, so it would send it back up. Mix in the daily vomiting, and my stomach became irritated and developed a hernia. He gave me a couple IVs, a ton of meds, and those next two weeks of vacation were bliss. I ate whatever I wanted and felt great. Fast forward, it's been 5 months, and I mostly still feel well. The first two months, I stopped feeling nauseous, but by month 4, I began feeling nauseous here and there. I would throw up here and there, too. The nausea is subtly coming back, I'm unsure why. And with $60 in my bank account, I can't exactly leave the country again. This time, I refuse to let it get bad again. It's going to be a journey, but I am ready for it.

[hiddenangel95]

Never thought i have lost almost 10kgs after working with Apple . Even, so , my weight is still far from how i used to be in original size. In life i used to be around 45kg-48kg. When i started taking anti depressants pills my weight started to gain massively even though i only eat one meal per day.

I have irregular periods since i was in high school. Back then i thought i just so small, and having irregular periods didn’t bother me much. But now i approaching 30’s , yet still my period is not consistent.

Doctor suggested me to lose weight. I don’t have plan to lose weight to be honest but my work nature help me to exercise more. I barely have time to sit and constantly walking here and there. There are so many customers who coming to Apple Store that need my help.

There are so many people saying i look small now and I’ve been thinking ohh ya , i used to be petite back then. Small and petite. That’s me.

Recently I’ve treated myself real good. Go to massage and facial constantly. I could see my skin and body improving so much. I started using Dove body gel and shampoo and along with Fenty Body Butter and Lavender body oil. My skin super soft like baby skin. I started changing to fresh scent perfume from Middle East and i swear to God i regret not doing that earlier. I started using Fenty lipgloss and lip balm and i could see the small lines disappeared from my lips.

I love Fenty lines especially its make up since i was in university. But back in United States, Fenty considered affordable even for the students.

After using Olay skincare for longer time, people really compliment how my skin is. Most of the customers were shocked when they know my age, they thought i am university student doing part time in Apple Store. I’m super duper grateful my skin getting improved a lot lately, i used to have so many acne and scars all over my face, i almost give up to take care of my skin but my mom really gives me encouragement to start investing good skincare and she even gave me money to buy all the things that i need. The dedication and motivation from my mom really give me hope that i am matters and beautiful.

Love you Mom.

Sincerely, your beloved daughter

[jacqueline-vile]

The session felt like it had gone on for hours, even though it was only 30 minutes. Rubbing her head, Harleen paused for a moment outside the room where inside she had been attempting to get a feel for the Joker. A sigh expressed how stressful it was. He managed to sort of answer her questions in some twisted way, which was not at all something she was used to. He was definitely a sociopath. In her history of providing therapy for patients outside of Gotham, his lack of empathy was consistent with them. Having him say he was crazy and didn't need help was also nothing new. But it nagged at her the mind games he seemed to be playing. It was definitely unique to him, at least it seemed so. She was willing to admit that her experience was still limited. As Harleen's mind wandered, she ran into Dr. Arkham and nearly jumped. "I'm so sorry, Doctor, I didn't see you-" He cleared his throat, taking of his glasses to rub the lenses with the fabric of his coat. He had an aged appearance, which was more due to his posture and distant expression. He was by no means an old man, sitting comfortably in his late 30's, but the way he moved and spoke made him seem like he was twice that. "How was your first session?" Quinzel sighed. "I can't make heads or tails of what makes him tick."

Jeremiah nodded, putting his glasses back on and pushing them up the bridge of his nose before taking a breath. "Yeah, noone has. To be honest, this might even be a complete waste of time and sanity to have you treating him, considering he sent our best and brightest into a violent fit." She nodded. "You mean Dr. Strange." He didn't say anything, looking past her at the therapy room door. It was as good a yes as she was likely to get. "Dr. Arkham, I'd like to try something that hasn't been done, as far as I am aware based on what I read of his file." Jeremiah looked at her, eyebrow raised. It seemed he didn't expect it to be that impressive, but his silence was encouraging to some extent. "I'd like to talk to other patients that have interacted with Joker." Jeremiah's face shifted to a frown as he rubbed his chin in thought. "You understand this could interfere with the patients' progress, yes? Some of them don't deal well with sudden change." With a nod, she continued. "Yes, I do. But I think if I can get more than one perspective on him, I might have a better chance than Joker's previous therapists." He glanced at her, than the door. "I'll see what I can do." With that, he turned and walked away, leaving her in the dark hallway. She headed to the employee cafeteria and sat down to eat, flipping through files. Waylon Jones, Gary Bagsworthy, Basil Karlo, Emma Nashton . . . until a couple weeks ago, Joker had interactions with them the most. If Dr. Arkham was willing to let her, it seemed the best way to crack into the Joker case. While she was mulling this over, she had barely eaten and was interrupted by her phone buzzing. She looked at the caller ID and hesitantly answered. "hi, babe." "Hey Sweet Cheeks." Came the voice from the other line. "How's work?" "It's fine." She smiled. "Lookin forward to coming home tonight. I got a steak all thawed out-" "Yeah yeah, sounds good honey buns, but I won't be home tonight." Harleen sat there silent. She wasn't surprised. this was the third night in a row. "You said you were gonna be home for dinner, punkin . . ." "I know, I know, but my boss has me workin late and he'd bust my balls if I try to say no. It's serious business." She nodded and let out a sigh. "I'll leave a plate for you in the fridge." "Thank you, sugar. You really are a sweetheart. I love that about you. I'll see you in the mornin." The tone told her he hung up, Not even so much as a kiss through the phone. Harleen put her device back in her pocket and decided not to think about it, focusing instead on the files in front of her as she prepared to head home.

[seed-of-lives]

October went away... November's coming in

My experiment went well.

The first week, I was settling in, I studied for the first three days and then, since I still didn't have any homework to do, I spent my time setting up my current organisation system, which seems to be working quite well.

The second week, I was still adjusting to the system. It wasn't a very good week as I stayed at home for two days on friday and saturday.

The third week, I started strong, way too strong. In fact, I went to bed at 1 or 2 am for three day straight. For this reason I was sok tired the rest of the week and did not manage to do much.

The fourth week, I was so tired that I kept sleeping in the afternoon and then doing my homework at night, going to bed late and continuing the cycle. I broke out of it only after the weekend.

The fifth week, I did what I was supposed to every day, and although I could have done better I think it was fine. Still, it was a short week and I didn't have much work, so it doesn't really count that much.

I didn't follow some of the rules like going to bed early everyday and preparing stuff before dinner. But considering how I studied almost everyday, taking at worst two days of complete rest and at best only studying very little on one day per week, considering my usual, I did very well.

Now, November doesn't really have that much of a theme. It's between October, when it's all Halloween and waiting for that one day break, and December which is all about Christmas.

It's a full month with no breaks. It's like March. Because at least in January the first week is off, and in February you get a couple of days.

My top priority would be sleeping. It's perfect for it. I don't think I'll hang out with my friends this month, or do anything particular, but that I'll just spend most of my time doing these two things.

I'm struggling a little with some things friendship wise. (Like, I currently hate all the people I know).

So, in spirit. While I had October as a challenge for myself to prove my consistency. And it mostly worked. I'll have my october focused and sleeping enough, eating all my meals, and saying no to my friends when I don't feel like it, speaking up for myself when something is wrong and when people hurt me. I don't particularly care about other people this month.

So, maybe it's all about balance.

This month's rules:

1. Sleep as much as you can everyday

2. Do all your homework and studying on time

3. Stay organised, use that system

4. Don't stress about other people, if they have a problem with you, they'll tell you. You don't need them, not right now for sure.

5. You can always take a break for one day. Just, don't spend it rotting away on social media, sleep instead

I want to try to set up my work so that I'll always be able to take a day off if I need to, so no more assignments for the next day.

Wish me luck!!

Last time using these beautiful dividers by anitalenia. I want November to be less intense so, bare minimum of work, even if it's just adding pictures.

[neonmeron]

火曜日　2024/09/17

It has been a very hot minute. I want to deeply apologize for not updating since February. My life got hectic and I couldn't make time in my schedule to make consistent updates. I fr was living day to day. If you still care, I'd love to briefly summarize what has happened since the last update, as well as some of the drafts I made. 

The next post draft (2/9) started with me talking about how i was watching kung fu panda and how it was my #1 favorite movie in the world (still true)

Did not pass the tryouts for my dance clubs vocal team

Draft from 2/12 included me talking abt the superbowl and how much I hate patrick mahomes and the chiefs. Also my friend cried after it.

Draft from 2/13 included me talking about valentines day and how i didn't have one but i didn't need one. I bought (fake i think) flowers to give to my japanese teacher. Imy M-sensei. Playing Genshin seems to be a recurring occurrence.

Draft from 2/19 included me saying how i had the best weekend ever 🤪 (you'll learn why soon). After my dance practice, B-san (remember him?) picked me up and we went to mcdonalds, had a snowball fight, walked through some woods, and built legos together and then he dropped me off at my house at 5 am LOL.

Draft from 3/18 starts with me talking about after my dance performance, (seventeen pretty u) B-san picked me up and took me to dinner. That's when we started dating :3 (we are still dating btw) then i went on to complain abt studying lmao. I then mentioned how I submitted an application to study abroad at Nanzan University in nagoya!! (that's actually where i am now…🙊 surprise! (been in japan for a few weeks now! I'll make a separate post on that later. AMA!) Next, lizzie freeman aka yanfei va aka my queen came to my college but i forgot to buy tickets (i eventually bought them off someone else and now i have her autograph and picture so whos really winning here) and then i bought a ticket to see a small indie band i like for june. It was so much fun. I really can't wait for them to come back to my city. The crowd was so small I was nearly at the stage!!). 

And that was basically my semester. I passed all my classes (some with better grades than others..) grinded the heck out of studying for my stats final. i think i barely passed the final which actually made me mad cause i studied so much lmao.

Uhhhh,,,,, i spent my entire summer working as a cashier for a state park near me that was fun i guess

i actually wont see B-san until january :|

Anyways no grammar lesson rn i actually have to grind out genki lessons 20-23 cause I cooked too hard on the placement test and got in a higher class than I was aiming for so…. That'll be the next post. 

I'm actually hungry af rn so i'm gonna find somewhere to eat

I'm gonna try to keep this updated regularly considering my load this semester seems pretty light (fingers crossed) and it's strictly japanese language and culture. Slayyy anyways goodbye for now (p.s. I lost every Japanese language skill I had this summer. I genuinely don't remember anything. I actually can't talk with my host family. Oh yah, i have a host family i love them

As compensation for being awol, here's one of my favorite j-pop songs. It literally got me through last summer. It gets me so hype. 

If this post gets 50 likes ill post all the drafts i mentioned

じゃあね～

今日の歌はOFFICIAL HIGE DANDISMーTattooです。