#it means I’m eating more healthy

[vampstel]

Vent under cut. Be warned. Promise there’s some sunshine at the end of this though lol

I’ve been trying my best to stop being hard on myself but it’s difficult. My perfectionism is gone but my ADHD sure isn’t.

The thought that other people can work perfectly fine [even when they don’t want to] while I struggle to work [even when I want to] makes me upset. I’ve accepted that that’s just a part of who I am and to simply let it pass but nowadays I can’t help but beat myself up for it.

Like I want to have a consistent upload schedule. I want to draw this, I want to draw that, I want to make a video on this, then a video on that, and the list keeps going on and on. Being able to work consistently seems impossible to me...

I think the one thing that frustrates me the most is how I work a lot but also accomplish nothing at the same time. I am drained by basic tasks and can only do little by little every day and to me, that’s not enough.

But slowly, I’m starting to be proud of myself for it. It’s still an absolute pain to struggle with executive dysfunction and such but reminding myself that “hey, at least I’m trying and that’s what matters” makes me feel better.

Also, I’m still 17. That is young. I don’t know why but a lot of people (myself included, obviously) think they should have their life together as soon as they hit 18 and it’s ridiculous. That’s not how that works.

I’m still a minor for crying out loud. I really shouldn’t be stressing over work and all that lol. Actually, I’ve taken a break from Twitter because of this and due to other reasons.

I’ve also been doing what I want to without forcing myself to work. I mean, I still work… I still actively try to finish my character sprites but I don’t go out of my way to make it the main goal of my day. I’m slowly getting to the finish line and that’s cool!

I can’t deny I’m very nervous about coming back to YouTube though. Dunno why but I’ve been more self conscious about my work. I don’t have high standards for myself anymore but I just *FEEL* like my content is lacking something... I also have no clue what video to do first. Nothing’s really made me feel passionate. Minus my OCs. So that might be the cause for that lacking feeling.

Dunno if I'm making sense here but yeah. I swear every time I go on hiatus I feel like I’m going through a path of self-discovery LOL I like it though, it’s nice.

Anyway moral of the story: don’t beat yourself up if you have ADHD. Now that that’s off my chest, back to posting silly shit :3c

[bernese-mountain-dyke]

it’s so dangerous learning that restaurants near me have really good fucking food. Bad bad thing for me to learn

[dipyronegirl]

thinking (and rewatching..) inside job again and i dont think rand is that bad of a father? i mean, he made a lot of mistakes and he doesn’t even feel bad ab it, even tho he traumatized reagan and a lot, but he was never absent. he acts like he cared ab reagan’s career just bc it could help his career, but that’s not true. he pushes her to be the best all the time and it’s bad, but he genuinely cares ab her so much. and the whole ‘creating crises to force her to hang out w him’ thing is fucked up, but it’s cute that he just wants to hang out w her that bad. most fathers literally don’t care enough ab their kids to do any of that. most fathers don’t even know their kids as much as he knows her. maybe my standards are just insanely low, probably, but he’s a better parent than 90% of the parents i know

[bardicbird]

i don’t like the post going around that’s like “u need to eat vegetables even if ur autistic and it’s hard i promise u can find a way to prepare them that works!!!” it just feels . Bad. No hate to the person who made it bc that advice does work for some people, but when you’re specifically including autistic ppl who are more likely to deal with ARFID (like me) that sort of advice can come off as really patronizing and rude. eating disorders are not rational, and it typically doesn’t matter how the food is prepared . Some people just can’t eat certain things and instead of being like “you can do it i promise push your boundaries!!” I would instead recommend supplements to get the vitamins you need. also like—nobody *has* to be healthy. Like obviously if you are able to get the nutrients you need you should but in the case of people who *can’t* they are not lesser or just not trying hard enough; they are ppl who deserve respect and autonomy over their own choices. Idk just rubbed me the wrong way.

[fractallogic]

Me: hmm bodyweight squats are kind of harder than I want them to be

Me: why is every yoga teacher such a coward JUST TEACH CHAIR POSE AND BOAT POSE CMON PEOPLE LOVE IT

Me: *has not lifted weights or done a real vinyasa class or even gone to the gym at all since leaving Tucson in 2019*

Me today:

Me: wow I can barely walk that’s weird I guess you need your thighs for stuff

[rowanhoney]

.

[kaylakat2]

Look, I know diet, exercise, and mindset actually have loads to do with helping certain conditions, especially mental health ones, as well as just, improving overall quality of life. But I just cannot contain my irrational amounts of rage when I see folks online talking about how they ‘cured’ their pcos or any other hormonal condition with diet and exercise, or how they started thinking positively and their mental health conditions (including those associated with those hormonal conditions) just went away. (I.e. things like: Here’s how my husband cured my pcos by making me healthy food :) ) And it especially bothers me when they vilify things like birth control or hormone treatments or antidepressants, or quite literally anything but their own methods of treatment.

Because hey guess what, some people quite literally rely on those things to get them through their days, or to maintain those exercise regimes or healthy diets that those folks just adore. (I certainly rely on my birth control to help regulate the hormones that my body naturally does not produce correctly.) And guess what. it’s fair that they do. Because they’re taking medications that help balance out their brain chemicals or hormones or what have you, to help with conditions that cause those things to be unbalanced. That, hey guess what, cannot be wholly and entirely fixed by just, cutting out bread and eating steamed veggies or whatever the newest thing to try is. Do not vilify people for finding things that work. Do not tell people that if they just tried harder and weren’t so weak as to not do this one little thing they’d be cured. No.

And guess what. Diet, mindset, physical activity, wanting to do things to live better is good. It can and should be done in tandem with other treatments because it can have massive impacts on quality of life and the severity of your symptoms, especially with mental health conditions. But. That does not mean they will cure things. Hormonal and chemical imbalances are sometimes innate, genetic things in the brain and body. Things that can’t be magicked away by running everyday and drinking a smoothie in the morning. And I am tired of seeing people vilified for using things that work for them and are healthy and normal. Being on medications isn’t a bad thing. Using just one or multiple methods to manage symptoms isn’t a bad thing. Doing things that work for you and keep you healthy isn't a bad thing. What is bad is telling people medications are all poison and getting off them is what’s best for everyone and it can’t possibly be helping anyone :)

[skippudippu]

I am SO FUCKING TIRED of waking up anxious

[bugunlikeanangel]

googles “is it normal to feel like you’re tricking people into thinking there’s something inside you when you’re actually completely hollow - empty - on the inside and you feel like if they get any closer they’re going to find out”

[s-cullayy]

One of my coworkers saw me and goes “did you lose weight?! You look like you lost weight” like I sure fucking hope not. My doctor is begging me to gain weight and I’m trying my goddamn hardest but I can’t!!!

[hearmyvoiceoftreason]

.

[oranberrie]

I refuse to apologize for eating.

[moonstruckme]

Thanks for being patient with me! This is edited on about four hours of sleep so apologies for any errors <3

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1.6k words

Water sizzles on the stove. You reach over to turn down the heat, your side heating from its proximity to the boiling water, before spinning back around to keep speed-chopping onion. This is a result of poor planning. 

It’s possible that some of your nerves could be reinterpreted as excitement. Giddiness, even. You’re finally—finally—doing something to try and repay all the kindness James shows you. You’ve felt like such a mooch, eating his cooking and stealing his time with his friends, but last week had been too much for you to take. He’d discovered the stomach bug you were weathering, and James had completely devoted the next two days of his life to making sure you were looked after. 

Your fever had gotten so out of hand he’d very nearly followed through on his favorite threat (going into your phone while you’re sleeping and phoning your mum), and though you’d done your best to downplay it at the time there are admittedly gaps in your memory wherein you think you were simply too out of it to know what was going on. It’s not a very comforting thought when you’re harboring a humiliating crush on your roommate; you may well have been just as talkative as James always is, you don’t know. At least he hasn’t said anything. 

He had, thankfully, managed to avoid catching it. You’re not sure how he managed what no one on your shift at work did, but you assume it has something to do with all that kale he eats. Which is why you’re doing your best to make the thank-you meal you’re making him as healthy as might suit his standards. 

You hear his key in the door, and a little frisson goes up your spine. 

“You’re early,” you accuse as he walks in. 

“Since when do you know when my training ends?” James asks. You sound like you’re sniping at one another, but as usual the joviality in his tone is unmissable. 

The sounds of his entrance are familiar, perhaps more ingrained in your mind than they ought to be. Keys jingling as he hangs them on the hook, shoes toed off and left by the mat, heavy footsteps headed for wherever you are in the apartment. 

When he finds you in the kitchen, you both speak at once. 

“What happened to your shoulder?” 

“You know how to cook?” 

“Hurt it at training,” James answers, shrugging with the shoulder that doesn’t have an ice pack held to it. He’s probably too nice for it to occur to him to withhold his answer until you’ve given yours, as had been your first thought. “What are you making?” 

“How did you hurt it?” Worry pries at your tone. Your hands have stilled on the cutting board. 

“We had a scrimmage, and I got shoulder-barged.” He gives you a smile, a shadow of the real thing, but gentler. Reassuring. “It’s not bad.” 

You frown. “I don’t know what that means.” 

“Didn’t expect you to, love.” 

“Why do you need to ice it if it’s not bad?” 

There’s a look in James’ eyes that’s wavering between smugness and softness. You balk at the sight of it. “I need to be a bit careful with it,” he hedges, “but it’ll be good by morning. Now, you’ve distracted me. Do you mean to tell me you’ve known how to cook this entire time?” 

“Yes,” you concede with a laugh. “I’ve always said I cook for myself when you’re not around.” 

“And here you are, doing it right before my eyes.” James leans on the counter with his good arm. He looks immensely entertained. “I’m honored.” 

“This isn’t just for me,” you say, looking down to resume chopping onion as your face warms slightly. “It’s for—” Another remonstrative hiss from the stove, and you whip around, moving the pot off the hot part entirely. You’re a bit relieved for the excuse to face away from him. “It’s for both of us. Also, I just want to provide a disclaimer right now that I never said I was good at cooking, only that I knew how.” 

James’ laugh rumbles behind you, just as you knew it would. He’s too easy. You can practically feel the force of his smile hitting your back, like the sunshine brought inside. 

“Here,” he says, taking a couple of steps toward you, “let me help.” 

“No!” You whirl again, stopping him before he can actually enter the kitchen. “No way. James, I’m trying to do something nice.” 

“And it is very nice,” he says, earnest. “It just seems like you could use a hand.” 

“I’ve got it,” you insist. Your hands are up to ward him off, but you put them at your sides when you realize how close they’re hovering to his chest. “It doesn't count as doing something for you if you do it yourself. Anyway, you’re incapacitated.” 

“I’m…” James looks confused, but then he glances down to his icing shoulder. “Oh, come on. I’m hardly immobilized.” 

“For all intents and purposes, you are.” You do your best to infuse your voice with conviction. You’ve found that’s usually the way with James. If you show any hesitation, he’ll turn on the charm and have you eating out of his hand before you know what’s happened. You herd him away from the kitchen. “Go sit down. Dinner will be ready soon.” 

You can’t help but be aware of him as you finish up, knowing he has to hear the sizzling when you accidentally spill things onto the stove or the one mumbled curse you’re not quick enough to bite back. All evidence that you’re not nearly as practiced a cook as James. You can practically feel his grin from a room over. Still, when it's done you’re fairly proud of yourself. 

James is beaming as he accepts his bowl. He hikes his knees up so you can pass between the couch and the coffee table, making a show of sniffing the steam rising from the food. 

“Is this risotto?” he asks, waiting for your little nod before his mouth drops open in astonishment. “You are so sneaky! I didn’t know you could cook at all, let alone fancy shit like this.” 

“It’s not that hard to make.” You look down at your fork as you raise it to your lips, blowing. 

“Sure it is! Loads of people have a hard time with it.” 

“Do you?” 

James grins, caught. You feel your own smile tugging at your lips as you take a bite.

He follows suit, forking a bit of the risotto and blowing to cool it before taking it in his mouth. His eyes dip closed, head lolling back, and he moans. 

“Oh my god, this is good. I’m never cooking again, now that I know you can do this.” 

You take another bite to avoid a response. You’re fairly sure the heat from your face could power the apartment for a month. 

James makes a few more over-the-top compliments of your culinary skills, which you deflect as best you can. As always, you eat mostly silently while he chatters, but when you look over your attention gets snagged on his shoulder. 

He’s only using the one hand to eat, bowl resting in his lap while you hold yours up closer to your face. His ice pack sits beside him now that he can’t hold it on anymore. You catch yourself gnawing on the inside of your lip. 

“Does it hurt?” you ask. 

James looks over, following your gaze. “Yeah,” he admits. “Nothing I’m not used to, though.” 

You feel your eyebrows pinch. “You get hurt often?” 

He smiles bemusedly. “It’s rugby, love. Getting a bit roughed up is part of the deal.” 

This doesn’t sit right with you. Though you hadn’t pondered it much before, you realize you’ve sort of been thinking of James, with his muscles and constant smiles and easygoing manner, as somewhat invincible. He seems like such a source of light in the world, it hadn’t occurred to you that anything bad could happen to him. You don’t like the idea of him being hurt. In any capacity. 

You realize this is likely playing out on your face when you notice James watching you. His eyes are soft. “As much as I would love to milk this for attention and maybe a sponge bath,” he says, setting his fork in his bowl, “it’s really not that bad. See?” 

He pulls down the sleeve of his shirt, and the effort to placate you is wasted. You take in a quiet, horrified gasp at the deeply colored bruise on James’ shoulder. One of your hands raises as if to touch it. It hovers in the space between you. 

“That’s not that bad?” you look at James in alarm. “It looks broken.” 

“It’s not,” he laughs. It’s a bit awkward, as close to self-conscious as you’ve ever seen him. “Trust me, I’ve had a couple broken bones in my time. It’s only bruised, and the muscle’s a bit strained.” 

The muscle, you’re noticing now, is quite substantial. Your focus is on the bruise, but the shoulder beneath it is eye-catching as well, hefty and taut-looking, presumably from the strain. That, or James is flexing. 

You raise your gaze quickly to his. Brown eyes tinged with smugness. 

“You’re worried about me.” His lips stretch into a grin. Not your favorite one in his arsenal. “Aw, sweetheart, I love you too.” 

You direct your attention back to your food, face hotter than hot. “I have justification for worry,” you say, the teasing tone you were going for undercut by the unintentional softness of your voice. “You’re voluntarily participating in a sport that seems like it’s trying to kill you.” 

James takes a self-satisfied bite of his risotto. “I don’t know, I was pretty worried when you fainted in my arms last week.” 

You side-eye him suspiciously. “I didn’t actually do that.” 

“Guess you’ll never know.” 

[ziracona]

I saw the ask about Michael putting on weight because of medication and that gave me an adorable yet hilarious image of Michael being all cute and pudgy with his round glasses because I still headcanon Michael needing glasses. And I can't help but find it funny how Michael Myers went from being the freaking boogeyman to soft and sweet. Okay, now I have to know, how would the gang feel about how much Michael's changed?

Well, like I said, I doubt that would be a thing that happens to him so I’m not sure how to answer this. Doctors ideally work with you to manage symptoms, and find meds that don’t cause intense ones for you. If he gained a little, I don’t think he’d really notice at all. Or that anyone else would. [If anything a guy his height and physical strength suddenly built like a well fed linebacker is much more physically imposing potentially as well] I don’t think his personality changed that much either—I mean in ways it greatly did. He went from only ever experiencing a specific range of interactions and feelings, to a much more normal experience and healthier mental state. But he’s still kind of a shithead for fun and chooses the Cain instinct quite often, and can get very intense and hair trigger. He’s just a much healthier, calmer, happier version of what he was. Which in fairness is a good bit different, but I’m not sure I think of that as soft and sweet primarily. Kind in his own way sometimes now very much so, sure, but also intense and awkward and very him.

If any of the survivor group ended up gaining weight, they would be normal and not care about it. They aren’t bad people 😅. It wouldn’t really be a big deal either I mean. It’s a thing that happens. To people a lot, all the time, from aging to medical reasons to lifestyle change to medication to more. But it’s not an important one. As far as his changes personality wise, getting support and opening up some, I think they’re a little wary of him for a while because well, he did kill them. But they’re kind of used to that being a complex category—Sally, Anna, to a much lesser degree Philip. But he’s not the most emotionally difficult one of those: Legion is. And it’s important to Laurie, and what happened made sense. Putting a bullet in Freddy didn’t exactly lose him any favors either. Parts of figuring out healing are still complicated and hard on both sides, but Philip was very helpful breaching that gap, and so was time. They would I think mostly have felt some amount of discomfort and hesitance and distress, but more than that very relieved about him? And eventually cautious and calmer and hopeful, then familiar and welcome. It would depend a little from person to person but he was never the worst, and he’s not even the worst outside, and they had practice, so it wasn’t the longest.

[mattscoquette]

warning this blurb contains mentions of the reader struggling with an eating disorder! please do not read if you are sensitive to the topic. if you are struggling with an ed please don't be afraid to ever reach out for help! remember u are loved <3 enjoy

your eyes slowly raked across matt’s figure as he moved from the refrigerator to the table, sitting in the spot next to you. he slowly slid the plate in between the both of you, your eyes widening at the sandwich in front of you that he cut in half.

about a month ago, you’d had a breakdown in matt’s bathroom when he’d found out you were throwing up all of your food after every time you ate. this led the both of you to have an all-night conversation about you coming clean about having an eating disorder. you could never keep what little food you’d eat down, and were making excuses to never eat around matt. when you’d told him, he spent the entire night holding you in his arms as you cried, promising to help you every step of the way. you started seeing a therapist, who suggested making little food dates as often as you could with matt. at first you were hesitant, starting slow and working your way up.

this, however, was the first time matt ever made a sandwich. you couldn’t even remember the last time you ate a sandwich, and you began to felt yourself panic.

“hey, hey,” matt’s gentle voice broke you from your thoughts, sensing your worry, “baby, look at me.”

you looked up at him defeatedly. “matty i don’t think i can do it.”

he slowly brought his hand to your jaw, running his thumb across your cheek as he kissed your forehead. “why not, pretty girl? talk to me.”

you looked down at your lap, fiddling with your fingers. “it’s a lot of food,” you said quietly, “i don’t think i can eat it.”

he sighed softly, tilting your chin up, looking at you with a small smile. “i’ll be right here with you the whole time, okay? i’ll even have a little bit if it makes you feel better.”

“are you sure?” you asked sheepishly, turning your head to shake his hand away as you sighed. “i feel bad making you take care of me like this.”

“don’t say that,” he murmured, tilting your face to look at him once more, “there is nothing i want more than to make sure you are happy and healthy, do you understand?”

you nodded up at him.

“and i’m so happy you trust me enough to help you, because i want to help. i want you to feel good about yourself and be happy.” he told you, soft but firm.

you bit your lip, feeling tears begin to well up as you nodded again. matt sighed, pulling you into a hug and kissing the side of your head repeatedly. “when i tell you i love you, i mean it. i don’t ever want you forgetting it, okay?”

“okay,” you snuffled, pulling away from matt, wiping a couple tears away, “thank you. i love you too.”

matt smiled, kissing your forehead. “i love you more pretty girl.”

inspired by this post from my inbox!

© mattscoquette

[drunkenkissesatdusk]

MADE FOR LOVIN' YOU BABY

pairings — max verstappen x reader

warnings — nothing but fluff, pretty much just domestic love yk, kinda like the Jason Todd one i wrote

summary — Max wasn't actually a mean guy outside of the grid, he was actually a very loving guy that you had fallen for.

notes — writing f1 stuff will this thrive like my batfam stuff (also this is on my computer so it might be different) (and i’m also kinda writing on my phone?? idk) and it’s crazy short whoops

━━━━━━━ YOU WERE GLAD that Max was finally on his break. You could finally see him for a while, and he wasn't as busy with his media presence and all that. He was all yours until the season started back up again.

You could feel the stubble Max had yet to trim against your shoulder, and you tiredly turned to him, groaning before a smile landed across your face. Despite how early it was, Max's face was able to easily make up for that.

"Morning, Max." You scooted closer to him, kissing him softly. When you pulled away, you smiled happily at him. He smiled back, kissing you before you laid on his chest, feeling his heartbeat against your cheek.

You both stayed like that for another hour, before you got up and went to the kitchen while he delt with the few things he had to for the day. Eventually, he found you downstairs.

You had made a healthy enough breakfast, plating it up for the two of you to eat outside on your balcony. You two sat together on a small couch in a mess of tangled limbs. You remained there, even well after you both finished breakfast.

It was a comfortably quiet time, one the two of you had found yourselves accustomed to ever since he had begun his break from racing.

you had both found the time you spent together, tucked away in your home, had been spectacular thus far. you were now well adjusted to always having Max by you now.

“wish you could stay home like this forever.” you muttered tiredly into his chest, smiling when one of your cats hopped up to where they two of you laid together.

running your hand along the cats fur, you could feel Max looking at you. with a little effort, you finally met his eyes, which were filled with nothing but love and happiness.

“everyone on the grid is so wrong about you being a bad guy. you’re such a softie.” you teased, smiling and poking his side. he smiled wider, throwing his head back and laughing.

“you’re the only one who sees me this way, obviously everyone else thinks i’m a bad guy.” Max rolled his eyes.

“liar. not Charles. he’s probably more in love with you than me.” you joked, dropping your head back down onto his chest, listening to the steady beats of his heart.

it was calm all around. there weren’t any loud cars driving through, you could hear the birds around you two as the sky began to light up, the afternoon at a steady approach.

it just felt like morning. you two had on sweaters, blocking out the morning cold. eventually it would warm up a little more, but wouldn’t get unbearably warm like the summer would.

“i wish i could stay here forever, y’know. right here, on this couch, until we grow old and gray.” you began drawing patterns on his rising and falling chest. you felt it move with laughter, which made you laugh.

“go back inside and play Mario Kart?” Max grinned. you sat up, a determined look crossing your face as you nodded excitedly. you had bought the old Nintendo 64 console and multitude of fun games in Miami during the Miami Grand Prix. you and Max were obsessed.

round after round, insult after insult, it ended with the two of you laughing together in a mess of limbs on the floor.

all Max was made for was love, his insults never had any angry backing, his apologies were instantaneous after any argument, and his priorities in your relationship was very well set.

he did his best for you, and you returned the same bouts of love.

masterlist — reminder that asks / requests are open!!