#it's just old disordered habits?

[dutyworn]

@serabellyms said: 🦊 What is the ambiance like, where you are? Are there any sounds, or sights that might be distinctive? 🐸 Something that makes you smile for fandom reasons? 🦚 Last moment you felt proud? Or, any moment you have! 🍼Do you have a comfort food?

In Depth and Personal Munday meme / ACCEPTING ↷

🦊 What is the ambiance like, where you are? Are there any sounds, or sights that might be distinctive? :: This moment - neighbours have been loud for several hours for whatever reason now? I live in an apartment building with three outdoor access points, so while the building has a lot more units, my stairwell only has nine. I have a family with a couple? a few? kids downstairs, and a studio nextdoor and share wall/floor with nobody else (I am on the top floor). So I don't know WHOM I am hearing. I've never seen the studio neighbour nor do I hear them almost at all; I hear the downstairs kids often but it's like regular 70s house "you hear everything from your downstairs neighbour's bathroom as if it was happening in your bathroom" kind of a thing, not something that often bothers me at all. (Thankfully the first time I heard TODDLERS GIGGLING AS IF IN MY BATHROOM I already knew they were the actual real life non ghost kids of downstairs in their own unit, and I was not being haunted lolol.)

Hearing like, adult noises for hours now, though. Maybe they're having a party? On a Monday evening? Or someone's having a gathering in the stairwell, who knows...

As for sights, I'm just sitting at my desk in my bedroom with a blank wall in front of me. If I'm on the PC, I usually don't have any noise on purpose, and I often keep my headphones on to muffle any possible hallway noises from neighbours, without playing anything from the headphones (can't focus if there's music; if I listen to music I am likely ONLY doing that and nothing else).

I do have some fairy lights next to me, and more fairy lighs in the living room and kitchen, etc. I live alone, so generally it's quiet unless I am the one making the noise. We have less than six hours of daylight currently with the sun setting before 3pm so fairy lights are a must every winter even if I usually store them away during the lighter times.

🐸 Something that makes you smile for fandom reasons? :: When new people play Mass Effect for the first time and liveblog it. You get to observe them going insane. The cycle must continue.

🦚 Last moment you felt proud? Or, any moment you have! :: Uhh. Maybe when I cleaned the bathroom last? It's one of my least favourite chores and I have over a decade of history with executive dysfunction and hygiene OCD both making keeping the house clean really hard, so I usually feel pleased with myself anytime I clean.

🍼 Do you have a comfort food? :: Not in a wholesome sense, really. In a binge eating sense, yeah, but that's behaviour learned in foster care to comfort myself with food when I had no safe adults around me. So I binge eat, and it's specific types of foods, but I don't think I am capable of having true comfort foods since my eating behaviours are so disordered. Like it's OK, and I genuinely love food, not a big deal, but I think it disqualifies everything as true comfort foods.

[bunnihearted]

🐇💭

[straydogged]

I think maybe I need to try to have a talk with the alter that's obsessively been looking at her/our abuser's fb page because he keeps popping up in my reccomended friends and it triggers me so bad every time

[mightgetsomewhere]

I genuinely can’t fathom how people who have never had a problem with food (restricting AND overeating because both are serious issues) view it. Like tf do you mean you get hungry after two hours? One of my siblings is onto me because I went like 6 hours without eating but like…that was because I wasn’t hungry???? On the flip side, I’ve noticed that I just keep fucking eating when everyone else has stopped. Free breadsticks at Olive Garden? I’ll eat them until they’re gone. Need something to do at a party? I’ll get seconds even though I’m not really hungry. I was never really an emotional eater aside from a few hatred-induced binges last semester at college, but I’m definitely a bored eater. Combine that with the fact that my parents don’t cook, so the occasional meals I had with my family all together were fast food/restaurant food, AND that all other nights, I was left to rummage with no supervision through the pantry to eat processed food in front of the TV/my phone for dinner, it’s a miracle I didn’t get fatter sooner.

[lucysweatslove]

10.31.2023 // On names and generally feeling like my corporeal form is not me.

So, I'm organizing a group gift for one of our instructors. She's wonderful, so we wanted to give her a thank-you gift that involves giant plushies (a giant heart that has attached blood cells that hide away + an immunoglobulin that has a detachable antibody). Anyway, of course people have to address me somehow. I'm usually quite quiet, but organizing something means more talking + more addressing.

Everybody addresses me the way I've asked. Which is simply a shortened form of my legal name, Lex. The OGs know that Lucy is not connected to my legal name, really, other than having the same first letter. I went by Lexie for years (also not my legal name but a shortened version), but it was constantly misspelled as Lexi. It always looked unfinished to me, and the fact that I had people argue with me about how I spelled my name and then refuse to learn to add the final "e" annoyed me enough that I just shortened it further to Lex. There was also the time I briefly went by my middle name, Reyne (pronounces like rain), because Lex felt too harsh or masculine and not ~wispy~ and ~creative~ enough (look, I was a young teenager).

At the same time all of THAT was happening, my little sister was born. "X" sounds are typically hard for toddlers. When I was an infant and my older sis was a tot, she pronounced my name "lets-see" which is also cute. But, when Little Sis was born, my mom decided to give me a nickname to make it easier. My older sis was Wee (her first name starts with a W), and I was Lu/Lulu/Lucy. Mine came, in part, from being called "Lexie Lou Who" as a little kid. Reality though is that my little sis first called me Weecy, since /w/ is easier than /l/, but I've been Lucy for my family and close/loved ones for over 1.5 decades. My mom introduces me as Lucy. My husband calls me Lucy or Lu (sometimes lulu or lulu lemon).

So basically: Lexie for the first ~12-13 years of my life, then I branched into "Weecy" and "Lucy" with people I am safe with while keeping my "outside" (unsafe/uncertain) name as Lex, with a short stint being called Reyne because I was exploring a more creative, less scientific side of me.

The Lucy/Lex dichotomy has worked out for me decently so far, and in part, this is because it allows me to compartmentalize. I know that the people who call me Lucy are safe. I won't always like them or what they do, but I know they care about me. My parents still don't know I've been diagnosed autistic, and there are bits of me that I don't share in general because I don't know for sure that they will always be respected and valued. But that comes from my parents having a different set of experiences and values. In general, I know they want what is best for me, we just have differences in opinions about what that "best" is sometimes. Still, it's safe enough to have them call me Lucy because I trust that they have good motives. These are also the people I deeply care about. We have a reciprocal relationship. I can trust that they will be there when I need them, and they know I will be there for them too. Contrast that with Lex- the people who call me Lex are acquaintances. People I need to hold off at a distance. People I'm not sure will have my best interest at mind. They may respect my personhood, but they don't care the way people who call me Lucy do. They could be amazing people- and many of them are- but they just haven't yet earned the privilege of calling me Lucy. I also have no expectation that they might earn that privilege. There is no expectation of reciprocity either. I expect nothing from the people that call me Lex. They could ignore my name all together and call me "kid in the pink jacket" (like everybody did when I went to the community college for the last two years of high school). This separation protects me from getting my hopes up, thinking people are friends.

And I'll also say- the people who call me Lucy, I don't invite to call me Lucy. I invite yall online to call me Lucy, but that's because I expect that if you're here and listening, it's because you want to be here and supportive, not because I have something to give you. And I will give to all. But I digress- I don't invite the IRL people to call me Lucy. It develops organically. They pick up on the fact that nobody in my personal life calls me Lex. They ask about it. I tell them honestly. Then, they decide- they can call me Lex if that feels right, or they can call me Lucy and enter into my circle. I don't present it as a choice, I just inform them that I separate it out, and people close to me choose to call me Lucy, and that's how I know who is safe. Sometimes, people don't ask and just start calling me Lucy. I don't think my husband ever asked. It just... fell into place and felt right. And I don't think my best friend's main partner asked- he just always knew me as Lucy because that's what Best Friend calls me all the time. Literally never Lex. But other times, people do ask. Best Friend asked first- which was very thoughtful and probably one reason why we are best friends. It was respectful, understanding that how I feel may not be how she feels.

Anyway, back to now. When I was working full time, I was Lex or Lexie to everybody, but when I was off work, all the people in my life called me Lucy. I had a work Self, Lex, and a non-work self, Lucy. I stopped working for a year, and I was full-time Lucy. I had to use my legal name on applications for school, but studying self was Lucy, wife self was Lucy, pug mom was Lucy (or pug-mom), gym self was Lucy, friend self was Lucy... you get the point.

And now I am back to being Lex like, half the time.

I think part of the issue is that I haven't been "Lex" as me for a long time. It's always me as somebody else. Lex the Student. Lex the Chemistry Teacher. Lex the Scribe. Lex the MHT. Lex the... you get it. All of those are roles I've had- not wholly me. The whole 'me' is Lucy, but this physical body is "Lex" half the time, so I don't feel like my physical body is me.

But it goes deeper than that, because for years, only my family called me Lucy. Lucy was "Lucy, the sister" and "Lucy, the daughter." I didn't see it as who I was. Lucy was the second self, the role. Lex was who I was, and at that time, I was thin. I worked out a ton. I put studying on a pedestal. I was, objectively, not mentally healthy, not living according to my own personal values, still figuring myself out.

And when I recovered and grew into "me," I grew into Lucy, not Lex. Lex became the role, the second self. So of course now that I am playing the role of Lex more and more, now that my body is playing Lex despite Lex being left in 2013, my 2023 body is not Lex of 2013 and I don't feel congruent.

I also didn't realize until now how little I cared about my body/appearance as part of "me" until now. As I grew into me, I didn't really think much about my body. My way of dealing with my body's changes? Distancing. Ignoring. Separating. So even though this body is the one I inhabit as Lucy, I still don't feel like the body is me.

(Note... Interestingly: my therapist calls me Lexie, not Lex. It felt very wrong for her to call me Lucy, but Lex felt too... informal, stuffy, closed off.)

[sk3l3t0n444]

if one more person tells me to go on a diet i will lose my shit

[achingroses]

vent post lol

[fyodoro]

I spent the entire day in my bed playing video games and I have no idea how I used to do this almost everyday in middle school. My back hurts sooo bad, my eyes burn, and I feel like a walking corpse. I used to be used to it, but now i’m not :// and im itchinggg to go on a walk but its 11:30pm and i know better than to walk around my city late at night

[tripably]

The way my own brain tries to sabotage my attempt at obtaining a healthier relationship with food is astonishingly irritating, mostly due to being so unbelievably illogical.

When my body started screaming about being ravenously hungry approximately two hours ago, my brain sent out an immediate, automated, unrepliable response along the lines of "No food necessary. You can't possibly be hungry, you've not even done anything today".

As if I haven't been up for, what, 11 hours, majority of which trying to internalize everything I possibly can regarding my new job, on just two cups of coffee and a small bowl of pasta. As if thinking and learning new things wouldn't require energy.

Or no, in fact, as if the task of having sustained the bodily functions of an actual real life person for the past 30 years including today couldn't possibly require more energy than whatever is in 100 grams of white pasta with trace amounts of feta cheese and olive oil, a couple of cherry tomatoes, and maybe a desilitre of oat milk.

As if I would somehow (how????) need to earn the right to, what, keep sustaining said bodily functions? In the eyes of whom, my own brain? Surely not that brain, the one that is in fact included in those bodily functions that apparently aren't significant enough to deserve to go on uninterrupted??

Like does this brilliant brain of mine seriously believe that starving myself is somehow an option that leads to a good outcome? Have we not seen enough logical proof against that? Have we not read enough articles about the ineffectiveness and dangers of diet culture?

And if reading about it really is not enough: have we not been doing that for the past 15 years with whatever is the the opposite of success? How fucking long do we have to keep repeating the same fucking behaviour before accepting the fact that it is not fucking working??????

[nereidprinc3ss]

weber's law

in which spencer reid comforts fem!reader when she's having a panic attack at the rossi mansion

fluff warnings/tags: panic attack lol, spencer is really cute and sweet my little perfect cutie pie angel baby, classic spencer info dumps bc they're pretty much his love language, established relationship, cheesy and sweet at the end a/n: this one is for my queens with panic disorders who are triggered by literally nothing and everything i see you have this ilysm

When Spencer had invited you to a small get-together at Rossi’s, you’d imagined a small get-together at Rossi’s. 

And maybe that makes you a complete idiot. 

Or maybe Spencer is just so used to FBI work functions that to him, this really is small.

But now you’re sitting on an expensive couch in a very nice house, and you’re surrounded by FBI agents who are all milling around and talking and laughing, and you’re worried maybe your outfit doesn’t look as nice on you as you’d thought it did, and you keep having very vivid visions of spilling your drink all over a furry throw rug that probably costs more than your rent does. 

Music that could reasonably be considered relaxing or at the very least not objectionable plays over the sound system throughout the whole house and thus is inescapable—not that you’d get up from the couch even if you could, because Spencer is sitting to your right and he has his hand on your thigh and it’s the only thing that has until this point been keeping you from a full blown panic attack.

Maybe that makes you a complete idiot, too.

Regardless, you try to focus on nothing but the weight of his hand as it travels slowly up and down from knee to hip over the jeans you’re not so sure about, and the feeling of your breath coming and going, as slow as you can possibly summon it without passing out. 

Spencer is laughing at something JJ is saying as she stands next to the couch with Will and you really like JJ but her voice seems so loud right now, and nothing is going particularly wrong but everything feels so, so wrong it’s scary. 

All the buzzing tension in your body telling you to run away because you’re unsafe and at the same time locking you into place builds until you have to express it somehow. So you revert to an old habit—bouncing your leg rapidly like a rabbit thumping its foot. It’s not entirely conscious, but it feels better than being completely still. That is, until Spencer’s hand strays inward and cups just above your inner knee, where he begins fanning his thumb back and forth over the fabric. 

“What’s this?” he murmurs, head angled toward you and voice low enough to not draw attention. You force yourself to plant your heel to the ground even though it worsens the feeling of gears crunching in your chest. 

“Nothing. Sorry.”

That gets his attention. 

Because of course it does. He’s always telling you to stop saying sorry so often. 

His tone solidifies, still quiet but committed to this conversation now and no longer the whispery apparition of a quick aside. 

“Why are you sorry?” 

“I don’t know, it wasn’t—it’s nothing.”

You barely avoid apologizing again. 

For a moment he doesn’t speak, just watches you—and you make the mistake of raising your gaze to meet his. He has that curious, analytical look about him, concern tightening his eyes and knitting his brow. He’s doing that annoying mind-reading thing again, and as soon as he actually sees your eyes, he’s figured you out. 

“Do you want to go outside for a minute? Get some air?”

After examining his face for any clues that he’d rather stay in here, (not that you’d really know what to look for), you nod hesitantly. Spencer mirrors your nod and stands, holding out his hand for you to take as you follow suit after setting your drink on a side table (without spilling.)

JJ is now wrapped up in conversation with another agent and the two of you manage to abscond without attracting unwanted attention, which makes you feel slightly better as Spencer leads you deftly through rooms with high-vaulted ceilings and big windows and heavy, expensive looking oak furniture. It seems like you’ve been wandering through a maze when you arrive to a quieter part of the house and he opens a french door for you—which leads out onto an empty patio. 

A cool breeze immediately sinks into your skin, and your nervous system is so hyper-alert that it gives you chills. Spencer notices the way you shiver and steps closer after closing the door behind him, his hand finding the small of your back immediately. 

“You okay?” he asks, intentionally avoiding impeding your view of the sweeping backyard and the trees beyond. Sometimes focusing on something stationary is less overwhelming, but they’re so tall they seem imposing. Threatening, even. 

But then again, everything feels threatening right now. 

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

Spencer seems unconvinced by your monotone—when you glance over at him he’s still watching you like you’re a puzzle to be solved. 

“Are you sure? You can tell me if you’re not.”

“Why are you so convinced something is wrong?” you laugh, but it comes out too manic. You cross your arms. He looks pointedly at the motion. 

“For starters, that. Often times crossing your arms is a subconscious way of comforting yourself when you feel defensive or threatened. And you could say it’s because you’re cold, but—” he pauses, reaching out to touch your cheek. “I can feel how hot your face is, and you shivered when we came outside even though it’s 71 degrees because your nervous system is overreacting to external stimuli. The leg-bouncing is also often indicative of an activated parasympathetic nervous system. Is me touching you okay?”

Again, you nod—unsure how to deflect when he calls you out so efficiently. 

Spencer’s hand slides down to just beneath your jaw, where he rests two fingers. Each second that passes has him looking progressively more worried. You wish you weren’t quite so catatonic—the fairy lights hanging from the pergola shine through his hair and make him glow so appealingly you want to kiss his cheek. 

“Your heart rate is really high, honey.”

That would be due to the sense of impending doom. Thanks for pointing it out.

But you’ve lost your words, and along with them has gone your sense of humor. All you can manage for a 30 second span is a meaningless shake of your head as you avert your eyes, staring at the sprawling carpet of blue-green grass soaked in night as each blade doubles with your tears. 

“I think I’m dying,” you finally croak.

“Technically, we all are. Very slowly.”

Ah. There’s that social tact he’s so well known for. 

“Spencer.”

“Right,” he kisses your cheek as you stare up at him, affronted, and pulls you into his chest. “Sorry. I was actually trying to be helpful. Changes in brain chemistry and hormonal activity associated with panic attacks change your perception of time and make things feel really fast which can contribute to feelings of anxiety. But in reality time is moving just the same as it always is. One second is always one second. Sometimes remembering that helps me to slow down. Not literally, of course. My gravitational pull isn’t great enough to have any discernible effect on the passage of time.”

You sniff, pressing your cheek to his tie. His words make your head spin, seeing as you hadn't been prepared for a lecture in psychophysics—but it spins in the opposite direction than it had been going previously. It's nice.

“Change your perception of time?”

“Weber’s law of perception. Stimulus sensitivity will increase proportionally with increased stimulus intensity. You’re only perceiving time to be going faster because your cortisol and adrenaline levels are making you hyper-vigilant and sensitive to all the markers of time passing.”

“Like what?”

Spencer hums, the bass of it a comforting resonance against your ear, and strokes your hair unhurriedly. 

“Like… your internal clock. Your body measures time with your heartbeat, so when your heart rate increases, time seems to go faster. Also environmental cues, which lead you to understand that the world is not stagnant and thus is not frozen in time. Like the sound of the wind chimes…” he pauses, long enough for you to realize that indeed, you can hear the gentle, sonorous ringing and tinkling of steel chimes bouncing against each other. “And the wind itself, which is coming all the way from the Gulf of Mexico. Some studies actually suggest that wind direction can affect your energy levels and mood.”

It’s a gentle breeze more than it is full-blown wind. It feels cool against your hot skin. 

Spencer’s hand on the back of your head, still rhythmically smoothing your hair, seems to slow down the passage of time as well. You focus on that, and the sound of the wind chimes and the breeze on your skin for a few minutes, until your breathing and your heart rate slow and soon you regain your footing in the temporal dimension, exactly sure of where you stand on Rossi’s patio and in your boyfriend’s arms. 

“You tricked me into doing a grounding exercise,” you mumble into Spencer’s jacket. 

“I did not trick you,” he defends, voice quiet to match yours. “I just wanted to make you feel better. Did it work?”

You pull away from him and he lets you, watching on as you sniffle and wipe your tears on your sleeves. 

“Yeah, it did. Thank you.”

For a moment, neither of you speak as you gather yourself. He leads you by the hand to a cushioned hanging bench at the end of the patio, taking a seat next to you and gently rocking the swing. 

“Do you know what triggered that?” Spencer asks, over the gentle creaking sound. You shrug, observing the dance of the fireflies in the grass. 

“Nothing. Sometimes I just feel like everything’s wrong and scary but I didn’t want to tell you and ruin your night.”

“Hey,” Spencer murmurs, pulling you into him with an arm around your shoulder. “You are not ruining my night. I don’t want you to worry about that.”

“But all your friends and coworkers are inside, and you’re out here with me.”

He angles his head down toward you and you look up to meet his eyes, even warmer than the sticky summer night. 

“I am. Do you know why?”

“Because I suck,” you sniffle, more hot tears rolling down your cheeks as you attempt to look away. But Spencer’s not having it. He encourages you to sit up again so you can look at him properly, before wiping tears away gently with his thumb. When he speaks, it’s in soft, soothing tones. 

“No. I’m out here because if all my friends were inside having fun, and you were outside having a panic attack, I would choose you every time.”

You manage a laugh through the crying. 

“I don’t know if that’s healthy.”

“Whether or not it’s healthy is an entirely different discussion,” Spencer smiles wryly, before it melts into something softer and more sincere. “All that matters is that it’s true.”

For a while after that, you simply lay your head on his shoulder. Spencer controls the speed of the swing with his much-longer legs, kissing your head and rubbing your arm as you admire the expanse of Rossi’s lush yard bathed in moonlight and the black silhouette of the forest beyond. 

Eventually, Spencer speaks again, likely to make sure you’re not spiraling alone in your head. 

“Can I tell you an extremely classified secret that I've been trying really hard to keep to myself for three days?” he asks, and the mischievous edge to his voice catches your attention. You hum in assent, already wondering what kind of information Spencer would have a hard time keeping to himself. It could be anything. 

“Anderson is sleeping with Childers from Operational Tech.”

“What?”

Despite not working for the FBI yourself, Spencer and Penelope have you so filled in on the drama that you know exactly why that’s shocking. 

You pick your head up to look at him like do not fuck with me right now. 

His eyes sparkle as he nods.

“Yep.”

“Didn’t you tell me Childers was dating that girl in sex crimes?”

Spencer raises his eyebrows. The corner of his mouth twitches. You gasp. 

“No! What? Does Anderson know?”

“I don’t know. I certainly didn’t want to be the one to tell him.”

“Wait—Anderson told you this?”

“Yeah!” He laughs incredulously at your complete disbelief. “People tell me things! I’m an excellent confidant!”

“If you’re relaying all of this information to me then you’re a terrible confidant,” you chuckle, still watery—but feeling light years better. 

Spencer brushes your hair away from your face fondly, leaning a fraction of an inch closer. 

“You don’t count. Telling you secrets is basically the same as keeping them to myself.”

“Basically,” you tease, angling your head up by a few degrees in invitation. Spencer says nothing, does nothing for a long moment—just studies you with soft eyes, continues stroking your cheek. When he takes too long to kiss you, you get impatient. “I’m still kinda anxious, you know.”

He smiles knowingly.  

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you nod, looking pointedly at his lips. “You should kiss me better.”

“I think that would take more than just one kiss,” he murmurs through a smile, leaning ever closer until your noses are bumping. “I think I would have to devote several hours to that. Maybe even a whole day.”

“How does tomorrow look for you?” 

He’s laughing as he finally presses his lips to yours. The kiss is sweet and lingering. 

“For you? It’s wide open.”

[skinny2tb]

Mealspo☕️ (Tw €d)

A few th!nspo low cal meals I like to make/eat when I feel like b¡nging:

(not my pics!!!)

My tips to avoid eating:

• cinnamon to make your stomach feel full

• sprinkle a bit of salt over anything you fear to end up b¡nging

• mix RedBull and coffee to stay awake all day

• try sports like working out, Just Dance, going for walks, jumping ropes

• chew gum (but remember chewing gum contains a small amount of cals as well)

• measure and weight your body(-parts)

• watch TV shows like Insatiable, To the bone, Supersize vs Superskinny..., as a th!nspo

• tidy your room

• start journaling your everyday life and track your eating habits (apps like YAZIO and Lifesum are the best)

• try on old small clothes which used to fit you as a motivation

• draw your ideal body shape on top of your own printed-out body picture

• drink lots of water or unsweetened tea

• think of how different people are gonna treat you when you finally reach your gw

• sit infront of your mirror and only look at the parts you want to change

• pinch yourself in the arm everytime you think about eating

• try to sleep your hunger off

• wear tight clothes when you feel like you're about to b¡nge (nobody wants to see a pig in skinny fits)

• write down things you'd be able to buy for your skinny self

• smell something gross or imagine the taste of your least fav meal it will help

Nevertheless I do NOT promote any forms of €d's in my posts!

If you fear you or anybody you know might suffer from an eating disorder don't hesitate to seek professional help.

Love you guys, stay strong💪

[existentialgaybirdnerd]

Unknown facts about the 141 that even they don't find out from each other until specific circumstances:

Soap knows how to make jewelry, his sisters tricked him into liking it at 10 and it became a hobby he uses to destress. He sells his stuff online or gives it to friends and family for special occasions or just because he wanted to. His specialty is earrings.

His favorite color is purple. Not because he got it from someone else or even because he thought it was genuinely the prettiest color, but because it's a mixture of red and blue, his real favorite colors. He just couldn't pick one so he went with purple for simplicity.

Because his sisters can't sew worth their lives, he learned. It was a necessity, and something he didn't grouch about being "girly" like he jokingly does with the jewelry making sometimes. He thinks everyone regardless of gender or upbringing should know how to sew. Can make an entire outfit just hand sewing, but likes using a handheld sewing machine rather than a desk machine or actually hand sewing. Doesn't make outfits often unless they're gifts.

Has panic attacks. Not because of his time in the military, but because he's had a panic disorder since he was young. Once, he and Ghost get stranded at a safe house for about 2 weeks and he starts thinking about what would happen if they are forced to stay longer. Ghost walks in on him curled up on himself on the side of the bed, breathing so fast it's more of a wheeze than actual air being moved, and comforts him to the best of his ability. He somehow gets out not to touch him, so Ghost sits 2 feet away and starts talking about his life and his family. This was the catalyst for Soap realizing he's been madly in love with Ghost for a long time.

He fell first.

Whenever Ghost gets the chance to, he cooks. This is not a known fact to Soap until they get stranded at a decently stocked safe house with Price and Gaz and he Jerry rigs MREs to taste better.

Ghost likes to grow his fingernails out because to him it's a sign of being healthy. He hates when a nail breaks and tries to resolve any weakness in them to show he's strong and healthy.

He has a (probably) 15 year old pillow he keeps in his bunk. It's a gross color and can be folded so many times, but it's his favorite pillow and he finds he can't sleep well without it. Soap stuffs it full of cut up memory foam when he learns about it and it makes the sleep with it even better. This is the catalyst for Ghost realizing he's madly in love with Soap.

Likes having long hair, hates that he has to crop cut his hair for his work and takes as much time as possible between cuts, thanking the universe that his mask covers his hair because he'd be getting reprimanded often for his choice in how long it gets before he gets it cut.

He fell harder.

Gaz reads romance novels. He likes to make fun of the "my alpha" ones but genuinely gets interested sometimes because he has a habit of putting himself in the MC's shoes.

He likes receiving flowers. One time in secondary school another boy gave him flowers as a prank, this is where he finds out he likes lilies and dahlias the most.

Doesn't like wearing shoes or socks. He's got this thing where something being on his feet feels restrictive, and can't relax unless barefoot.

Doesn't like loud and sudden sounds. Bombs make him nervous and he can compartmentalize around them, but if someone slams something near him when he's relaxing he'll either go into a panic attack or blank out completely. It reminds him of being bullied and abuse more than it does war.

He won the bet on who would be the reason the Ghoap relationship got exposed to them.

Price grabs a newspaper every chance he gets, not because of staying caught up on the news, but because he likes to read and keep his favorite comic strips.

LOVES spicy food, Ghost will walk up to him randomly and hand him a jalapeno or habanero and he'll just crunch it. His favorite takeout when off duty is Indian food. No one said he can HANDLE the spice, just that he likes it.

Always has a bag of skittles on him. One time early on in their friendship Ghost was being mean to himself and refusing to eat more than bare minimum to not die. Being a big man, this means he expended more energy at one point than he had given himself, leading to a black out during a debrief in Price's office. This scared Price so badly until he found out Ghost's blood sugar just bottomed out, now he carries his favorite candy with him. He later adds Reese's for Gaz and twizzlers for Soap.

Price writes a journal every day before going to sleep. He carries a tiny one with him on missions to later transfer into the big one at his bedside table. He confesses his worry for his boys and his observations on their behaviours and likes and dislikes. He keeps a stream of consciousness going on some pages trying to figure out the best way to help if someone has a panic attack in front of him.

He was really hoping his lieutenant was better at stealth while distracted than THAT.

[sturnsreckless]

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐈𝐒𝐍’𝐓 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘,, c.sturniolo

summary: a couple years back you suffered from an eating disorder, where at one point you thought there was no going back but chris proved you wrong. fast forward a year later, you’re back in the same dark pit, but chris is there yet again to reassure you.

warnings: EATING DISORDER, crying, insecurities, comfort

a/n: i re-wrote this and decided to not go into as much detail just so it’s not as graphic to you all who suffered things like this. this is from personal experience, the plot is made up but all things mentioned are real so if you are going through any of that, YOU ARE NOT ALONE. reach out to anyone!

as you and chris’ relationship went on, you had developed an eating disorder. you had restricted yourself from eating, chris had noticed it after quite some time when you had lost a substantial amount of weight — he got you help and helped you through every step of the way and you were healthy again after a year and a half, but fast forward another year, you were secretly back into that dark hole, but all alone this time.

chris had went out to film a car video with matt and nick while you were at home, he thought you were studying for your exam, but instead you were looking at photos of girls chris follows on instagram who have such tiny waists and perfect features, not a single flaw about them.

you had been band into your old habits for about a month or two now. you had already lost more weight, your body changing drastically — your collarbones were a lot more visible, your chest had gotten smaller, your ribs were a lot more seen, your cheekbones were more defined, your jaw was incredibly sharp. it just didn’t look healthy or anything like you to anyone on the outside, but to you, you thought it made you look more like all the girls on instagram.

it was 1am and chris was due home soon and you were laying in his bed. he knew you’d be awake when he got home but he knew you’d be awake because you always waited up for him, but he wasn’t sure since you’d had a long day at college.

he quietly made his way to his room hoping not to wake you if you were asleep, but when he pushed the bedroom door open he saw you asked, sitting up in bed as you looked at your phone.

he gently closed the door behind him as his eyes glanced over your body — clad in a tank top and sleep shorts, your first time wearing something like this in a few months, but it was too warm to wear sweats and a hoodie. he noticed how much more tiny and petite you’d gotten over the last two months. he could slowly but surely see all the bones under you skin.

you could feel his stare on your body causing you to get self-conscious, you tried to cover yourself up with your arms as much as you could.

as you shifted with your arms, chris saw how unhealthily tiny your body was, he’d noticed it before, but for some reason it hit him differently now. he walked over to the bedside, sitting down by your side, he placed a soft hand upon your arm, stroking his thumb over your skin lightly, “you don’t have to hide from me, baby.” he mumbled, his tone gentle as he spoke.

you looked over at him and just stared at him, watching the knowing look fall over his face — he hand figured out that you were back into your old habits again.

his eyes held a hint of pain and concern as he looked at you, his jaw tightening as he glanced over your body again. his hand moved your arm and lifted up your shirt slightly, gently placing a hand on your waist, stroking the skin of your bare torso.

he could feel your body. he could feel your ribs through your skin, and it broke his heart.

“you don’t have to do this to yourself, you know?” he sadly spoke, the sentence leaving a bad taste on his tongue. his words were said with a saddened tone, as he kept his hand on your torso, feeling the small bones in your body. he swallowed the lump in his throat, a frown pulling at his lips as he glanced between your eyes and your body.

he couldn’t believe your gone and started starving yourself again.

you finally spoke up for the first time since chris had come home, “i didn’t mean to go this far again. i was just truth a new diet and this happened… it was an accident.” you sighed you, tears slowly filling your saddened eyes.

chris’ expression softened a little as he watched the tears form in your eyes, gently moving his hand that was on your torso, to the side of your head, running his fingers through your hair.

“you said you’d never do this again. we got you happy, healthy, back on the right track — but now you’re back in this hell. baby, you know you don’t need some idiotic diet to get a ‘perfect’ figure. we went through this a year ago.”

chris’ words cut you deep, setting you into reality. you took a deep breath before talking again, not wanting your tears to fall just yet, “i know. i-i just don’t feel like i’m good enough, you know? i mean you see all those girls on instagram and they’re all perfect. they’ve got everything i want, it’s not fair, chris. aren’t those the type of girl you really want?”

chris’ heart broke more by your words, his frown deepening as he looked at your eyes, noticing the tears now slowly making their way down your face. he hated that social media had made you so insecure about yourself, when in his eyes you were flawless.

“i don’t give a fuck about those other girls, i have never once looked at them and wished you looked like them. you’re so perfect to me. i wish you could see how perfect you are. you don’t know how much this destroys me.”

you were a really guilty person, the minute something you did caused someone pain, you instantly felt horrible. you despised that doing this affected the people you loved. you never meant for it to turn out like this, ever. you don’t know how to change it because no matter how much help you get, you always end up going back into it, “i-i’m sorry. i never meant for this to affect you too, this was supposed to only affect and ruin me, not you too. in so sorry chris.”

“but you not realising how beautiful you are does affect me. you destroying your body like this for no reason doesn’t just affect you, it affects the people around you that love you. it breaks me seeing you starve yourself once again. it’d break me if you’d ever starve to the point of no return. how many times do i have to tell you that i don’t want some skinny, perfect girl with no flaws, you have to stop thinking that i do, please baby. for me?” he spoke with a pained tone as he looked at your body once again.

you had no words. you didn’t know what to say, because you felt like if you said something it would be the wrong thing and you didn’t want that so you just stayed silent, listening to what chris had to say.

chris watched the tears drip down your cheeks as he spoke, it stung him watching how you had hurt yourself to look like those girls online, those models that didn’t mean a single thing to him.

he took another deep breath as he continued to speak, keeping one hand on your torso, “you’re beautiful in every way, okay? there might not be a single spot on your body that you like right now, but that doesn’t mean you have to turn it into this. you’re perfect to me. even more than perfect, baby.”

when chris finished talking, you pulled on his shirt, pulling his body closer to yours. instead of talking, you put all your love and appreciation into the right embrace.

chris was taken back by the sudden action of you pulling him closer, a small gasp escaping his lips as he was pulled down against your body. he wrapped his free arm around your frame, holding you against his body.

he could feel every inch of your body against his own, it felt like he was holding a tiny, fragile bird.

“i love you, thank you.” you whisper into his shoulder as you nuzzled your head further into his shoulder — those were the only words you could muster up right now, not in the mind to think of anything else.

chris could feel a soft sigh of relief leave his lips when you mumbled those words, his heart skipped a beat as you nuzzled your head into his shoulder, his arm wrapping tighter around your frame, bringing you closer against his chest.

he held you against him, pressing a gentle kiss onto your head, “i love more.” he mumbled against your skin as he continued to hold you, his breath soft and gentle against your ear.

@sturnsreckless

[corroded-hellfire]

Fic request idea baby: what about Eddie with a gf who used to have an ED but she's doing better now but he notices that she's starting to relapse like skipping meals and he brings it up to her and just angst to fluff

+ Hey if ur taking requests:

what about if Effie's gf randomly stops changing in front of him like she's getting into pj and she goes to the bathroom and then starts asking for the lights to be off during sex and he's super confused and asks her about it and basically angst bc she's trying to hide it but may be she had a slip during ED recovery?

+ Hi lovie a lil request! What about Eddie with a gf whose in eating disorder recovery like she used to struggle but it's been a few years since then and she's don't just fine but he notices she's starting to relapse?

These three requests seemed to overlap just perfectly. The beautiful and talented @munson-blurbs was kind enough to write these with me so go shower her with all the love 💚

Warnings: eating disorders, body image issues, relapse struggles. Please, if you want or need to talk to somebody, I'm always here.

Words: 1.5k

You’re fairly certain you’re living on the sun’s surface. 

Logic would say that you haven’t left Hawkins, but the temperature outside begs to differ. 

“Christ, it’s like 1,000 degrees in here,” Eddie mumbles, cracking open a cold can of Pepsi and taking a swig. He plants a kiss on your forehead, careful not to disturb your reading. 

You smile but keep your nose buried in the bridal magazine Nancy had bought for you. Page after page of wedding dresses had you swimming in a sea of white, each more beautiful—and expensive—than the last. 

Oh, well. At least it would give you an idea of what to look for at your bridal appointment in a few weeks. 

What truly caught your eye was an article tucked towards the back of the magazine. Its title boldly declares, “Shedding for the Wedding: Lose that Weight and Look Great!” 

You shouldn’t read it. It’ll only upset you, only bring back the bad thoughts and routines and restrictions that you’d fought so hard to overcome. And yet you’re drawn to it, eyes scanning each fad diet for one that might help you. 

No. Yes. No. Yes. Put the magazine down. Stop reading the diet tips and comparing yourself to the models. 

But they’re so pretty and so skinny. If Eddie saw them, he might not even want to marry you anymore. Not when he saw how beautiful women were supposed to look in wedding dresses. 

Maybe losing a few pounds wouldn’t hurt. One diet couldn’t be so bad. It would be temporary, just until the wedding. 

It was totally fine. 

“What are we thinking for dinner tonight, babe?” Eddie rifles through the pantry and pulls out two boxes of pasta. “We have bowties and rigatoni. I’m personally more of a bowtie man myself, but it’s your call.”

You shake your head. “I’m good. Just gonna have some soup.” Reaching around him, you pluck a can of Progresso off of the shelf. 

“Soup?” Eddie wrinkles his nose in confusion. “It’s hotter than Satan’s tits outside.”

You shrug, trying to play it off casually. “Period craving.”

“You’re not on your period.”

“Well, PMS.”

Something nags at you—if you have to hide your new soup diet from your husband-to-be, maybe it’s not a good idea. Maybe you should put the can away and make pasta instead. But then you remember those gorgeous models, so svelte and sculpted and perfect. 

Soup it is. 

It’s harder to ignore the problem as more symptoms of the illness start to return. The first time you’d gathered up your pajamas and taken them into the bathroom with you, Eddie just assumed you were going to take a shower. When you emerged with bone-dry hair not two minutes later, he was puzzled. But he didn’t say anything, not wanting to come across as overprotective or overbearing. Maybe there was some simple excuse and he didn’t want to make you feel like you have to answer to him about every little thing. 

Eddie can’t ignore that there’s a problem anymore when you slip back into one of your old habits that has always broken his heart. Sex was now lights off and you kept your shirt on. Eddie wanted to see every part of you, touch every part of you. He was going to be your husband and the fact that you didn’t want him to see this part of you—that he has made very clear in the past that he fucking loves—disheartens him. 

Stress begins to build up within Eddie. He feels like he’s toeing the line because he doesn’t want to sound accusatory, but he also knows something is going on with you. And he has a pretty good idea of what it is. You try to hide how you pinch at your stomach and thighs, but he sees. The way you measure your wrists with your fingers all throughout the day. He wonders if you even realize you’re doing it, or if it’s reflexive at this point. 

Though you never mention it, you always have your green journal around the kitchen. Eddie respects your privacy enough not to go through it, but reaching for the keys over your shoulder one evening he notices that you’re making a list of what you’ve eaten that day. His stomach sinks as yet another familiar pattern emerges from the days when your disorder was at its worst. Your fiancé is coming closer to his breaking point and he still doesn’t know what to do or even who to go to about this. 

The final straw though is when you turn down girls’ night with Nancy and Robin at the Cheesecake Factory. You lived for nights out with your two best friends. They knew you almost as well as Eddie did though, so he knew you wouldn’t be able to sit down at a restaurant with them and bullshit your way out of not eating a proper meal like you should. 

Eddie knows now he has to say something. Anything, really. When you walk out of your shared bedroom in sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt, Eddie chews on his bottom lip as he mentally prepares for the conversation he knows needs to happen. 

The moment you sit down on the couch, Eddie sits next to you. You reach for the remote but your hand doesn’t even make it to the piece of plastic before Eddie speaks.

“Can we, um, talk?”

“About what?” you ask, sitting back against the couch cushions. 

Your fiancé leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He rubs his hands together and his tongue pokes out of his pouty pink lips like it does whenever he’s concentrating on something. 

“I’m worried about you, babe,” he finally says. “You’re not yourself.” 

Eddie doesn’t miss the way you reflexively shrink in on yourself.

“I’m just stressed with wedding stuff,” you say. 

“That’s why you didn’t hang out with Nancy and Robin?” Eddie asks, raising his eyebrows. 

“Mhm.”

“And all the pinching and not eating and not wanting me to see you naked? Is that because of wedding stress, too?”

You turn away from him and pull your knees to your chest, but he moves to face you again. “Baby, I know something’s wrong. And the last time I saw you like this, it was because…”

“I told you, I’m fine,” you snap. “I’m just stressed. Maybe if you spent more time helping me plan and less time planning stupid campaigns for a game you played back in high school, you’d understand.”

The accusation is unfair, and you know it. Sure, you’ve been doing most of the planning, but he’s been there every step of the way.

Eddie winces at your harsh tone. He looks like he has a rebuttal but gives up after a moment “Fine. Let’s just go to bed.”

Guilt from your outburst wracks your body and holds sleep hostage. After tossing and turning for a little while, you hear soft cries coming from Eddie’s side of the bed. 

“Eds?” Your heart leaps into your chest. “What’s going on?” You give him a hug from behind, latching on like a koala to a tree trunk until he turns to face you. 

Even in the darkness, you can see the way his eyes shine with tears. “I know you relapsed and…and I don’t know what to do,” he manages through his sobs. “I don’t know how to help, so I just stand there like a goddamn idiot, but I can’t keep pretending like nothing’s wrong! I can’t keep pretending that you’re not hurting yourself!”

He knew. The whole time you thought you’d been protecting him from the truth, and he knew. 

You wipe at his cheeks, feeling the moisture on your palms. “I’m sorry.”

Eddie shakes his head. “‘S not your fault, I know it’s not, but…you need to get help for this. I can’t lose my girl.” He presses his lips to your forehead and lets them linger there, holding you as tightly as he can. “Please. Please.”

No. You need to lose weight. You need to look good; no, perfect in your dress. All eyes are going to be on you, and you can’t show a single flaw. 

The argument sits on your tongue, defensiveness ready to spring into action. But then you see his brokenness, his vulnerability as he unabashedly wears his heart on his sleeve. 

Skinny. Skinnier. Skinniest. 

But then—Eddie. 

Eddie, who laid his heart out for you. Who let down the walls he’d spent years building just so he could receive your love. Who felt your pain despite your best attempts to shield him from it. 

Maybe you weren’t ready to get better for yourself, but until you were, you could do it for him. 

You nod, pulling back and kissing him softly. “I will. I promise. First thing tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll wake you up the moment the sun rises.”

At this, you have to let out a small laugh. “The therapy clinic doesn’t open until nine.”

Eddie cradles your face in his calloused palms, leaning in to gently kiss your nose. “Then I’ll wake you up at nine.”

[mj0702]

@helen-with-an-a ... there you go

“Lucy!!!” you came sprinting into the kitchen nearly running into your sister

“What?” Lucy asked chopping some fruits

“Can I go to London to surprise Lee and Meado?” you asked excited

“Why??” your sister asked not stopping her chopping

“Kei is in London and I kinda miss Meado and Viv – okay I miss Miley … and Lee… pleeeeeaaaaaase Lucy…” you begged pulling slightly on your sisters sleeve

“Keira is in London?” Lucy double checked

“Sí” you nodded frantically

“Get her on the phone so I can talk to her…” your sister huffed and you sprinted off getting her phone unlocking it with a broccoli before calling Keira

“How did you unlock me phone??” Lucy exclaimed shocked

“With the broccoli as always” you shrugged your shoulders “It always works with a broccoli… cauliflower doesn’t work by the way”

“What you mean with the broccoli ad always???” your sister was still flabbergasted

“You use face ID to unlock your phone… a broccoli works… Hi Kei… Lucy wants to talk to you” you said happily as the call connected

“Did you know you can unlock my phone with a broccoli???” was the first thing Lucy asked when she took the phone from you while you shuffled over to the couch looking down on Ona who had her eyes closed

“Qué?” the spaniard said keeping her eyes shut

“Did I wake you?” you shuffled around uncomfortably

“No Bebita… I wasn’t asleep in the first place… just relaxing a little bit” Ona answered a small smile on her face

“Can I relax with you?” you asked shyly and without answering Ona moved a little to the side making room for you

“Don’t worry Bebita… Lucy will let you go to London…” the spaniard said quietly pulling you into her arms calming you down immediately

“But what if Keira says no…” you said sadly

“… then Lucy will find someone else who will pick you up and look after you – of course it’s easier if Keira agrees because she knows you” Ona said calmly starting to gently massage your temple knowing it helps you to focus

“Muy Gracias Oni” you sighed out melting into her frame

“What is muy gracias Bebita?” the catalan chuckled “I taught you better than that”

“moltes gràcies” you huffed

“There we go…” Ona smiled happily

“Guys… dinner” your sister yelled from the kitchen making you whined

“I just got comfortable” you whined making Ona chuckle

“We agreed to one full meal a day Bebita” the spaniard said softly poking your side “You were far to close to slip into old habits again”

“I know” you huffed rolling your eyes but getting up nonetheless

“Bona noia” Ona smile getting up after you

“Lucy I can’t anymore” you sighed

“I little bit more Bubs… please… you didn’t even eat a third.. I know it’s a lot but please…” Lucy said softly

“I’m full Lucy…” you whined

“Lucy…” Ona laid her hand on her girlfriends arm “… Baby steps”

“I know…” your sister sighed and you immediately sunk back into your chair feeling like you disappointed her

“M’sorry Luce” you mumbled

“No Bubs… you did nothing wrong... I should’ve made something lighter… not pasta… still too much for you” Lucy said stroking through your hair “… but you ate something so… Go pack your bag… Kei will pick you up at Heathrow tomorrow”

“You letting me go??” you perked up

“Sure … but you promise to listen to Keira” your sister said seriously

“Promise” you said quickly before rushing to your room

“It’ll do her some good…. I know you already worry but Keira will look after her” Ona said squeezing Lucys arm lightly

“I know… but with her eating disorder flaring up again…” Lucy chewed on her bottom lip

“You told Keira right?” the spaniard checked

“Of course I did… she’s blaming herself too…” your sister answered

“None of us noticed it until it was nearly too late… and we’re living with her” Ona said softly knowing how much Lucy beat herself up over it “… but we caught her in time and she’s doing better… slowly… but steadily”

“I don’t know if we would’ve caught it it if it wasn’t for Tana…” Lucy said lowly

“It doesn’t matter now… we’re going to catch her every time she needs us too…” the blonde smiled slightly

“LUCY????!!! WHERE IS YOUR CITY JERSEY??? I NEED IT TO RUB SALT INTO THE WOUND!!!” you yelled down the hallway

“HOW SHOULD I KNOW???? I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHERE MY WOLD CUP MEDAL IS” your sister yelled back

“In our bedroom… wardrobe… left side fourth shelf” Ona now interrupted knowing if she wouldn’t Lucy and you would yell at each other the whole night

“GRACIAS FRIENDLY SPANIARD” you yelled and your bare feet could be heard as you padded down the hallway towards their bedroom

“Okay listen Bubs…. Kei will pick you up at Heathrow… you do NOT leave the building without her… if anything happens you call for a stewardess… I told the airline that you’re not comfortable flying and they’ll have an extra eye on you anyway – bit if you get a panic attack coming you tell one of them okay” Lucy said to you her voice serious

“God Lucy… it’s not the first time I’m flying on me own” you tried to play it cool but your sister saw right through your act

“I downloaded the Norway against Croatia game… we play both of them in friendlies in after the summer break… Sarina wants some ideas… you can go over your notes with Leah and video call Sarina…” your sister just kept talking knowing it’s best to ignore your act

“Why can’t Sarina tell me that herself??” you grumbled

“When was the last time you checked your emails??” Lucy raised her eyebrow

“Ehrm…. Dunno… couple of weeks?” you shrugged your shoulders

“Exactly… she did tell you… you just never check your emails” your sister rolled her eyes as your flight got called up “Okay Bubs… that’s it… you’ll be good for Kei and bring me back some Hobnobs and Penguin okay”

“Can’t you come with me Lucy… please?” you suddenly begged

“I can’t Bubs… you’ll be okay ... you get on the plane and watch the game and then it’s already time to get off the plane again” Lucy said lovingly as she pressed a kiss to your forehead

“Okay… okay…” you took a deep breath “… I can do that”

“Go… and don’t forget to text when you’re there” your sister gently pushed you towards the gates

“Come on.. just open these damn doors….” you mumbled to yourself “… people have somewhere to be”

Finally the Crew opened the plane doors and you were the first one to get off the plane making use off all the training Alexia and Lucy put you trough. You were pretty sure you tanked a business man back into hi seat but you didn’t care. You flashed through arrival area where people waited for their luggage and of COURSE the police officer got suspicious of your behavior. You were THIS close to the exit doors when two of them decided to stop you and starting to ask questions

“Okay guys look… I HATE flying with a passion… my pick me up is waiting just behind that door” you said panting “… can we please play 20 questions there?”

“Okay… you’re going to come us Ma’am” the older scruffy police officer said already grabbing your arm

“HEY!!” you yelled upset which was the wrong decision to make since his grip tightened around your arm and more police officers looked over

“We just have a few questions… don’t make a scene.. it won’t end good for you” the man said already pulling you along

“Look mate… I just want to get outta here and visit some friends… can you ask your stupid questions and let me go?” you asked getting angry yourself

“I decide where and when I ask NY questions…” the grey haired officer grumbled his younger colleague following

“I’m a citizen of the United Kingdom… you have no right…” you started to fight his grip

“… I don’t care if you’re English, African or Indian… if I have the suspicion you have something to hide I can stop and question whoever I want” the old officer said pulling you into an office

“Okay… boarding pass, passport and state your name and date of birth” the grey haired man grumbled

“I want a lawyer” you shot back

“This is not CSI Heathrow… you don’t need a lawyer” the old man rolled his eyes “Just cooperate and will be done in a couple of minutes”

“Y/n Tough Bronze, February 20th… I’m 5’4, 53.4 kg, blue eyed, I have a girlfriend and my Starbucks order is…” you started but got interrupted again

“You think this is a joke?” the officer asked

“Quiet frankly… yes… but I still try to be nice and respectful” you smiled sweetly

“You’re under age… what are your plans here and how long you’re staying?” the man didn’t even react to your sarcasm

“I told you me pick me up is waiting outside… I’m still allowed to fly on me own” you grumbled

“Give me a name” the officer said seeing you won’t answer any of his questions

“Keira Walsh… if you lived under a rock and don’t know what she looks like… Google her name” you said leaning back in the chair

“Insults won’t get you anywhere but okay… Keira Walsh my ass…” the man rolled his eyes

“My name is LITERALLY Bronze…” your voice full of sarcasm

“Okay… if you say so… Darren… get outside and retrieve “Keira Walsh”… I’ll start the paperwork for having John Cleese over here trough the night” the grey haired officer grumbled as his partner rushed outside

“Bitsy I swear if you attacked an officer again I’ll let you rot in prison” you heard before the door got ripped open and an angry looking Keira stood in the frame

“I did nothing I swear” you held up your hands in surrender “HE just grabbed me as I was on me way out”

“Holy mother Mary of God…” the older man mumbled

“Leave Mearps out of this… she would end you for even touching me” you said grumpily

“You… quiet…” Keira snapped at you before turning to the officer “…. What’s the problem officer?”

“She was acting suspicious running through the arrival area so I stopped her and she got all defensive and sarcastic…” the man explained and before you could even bring your two cents in you got hurled up by Keira who was apologizing over and over again explaining that you really hate airports and just wanted to leave as quickly as possible

“I can’t believe I had to pick you up at the police AGAIN Bitsy” Keira scolded you back in the car

“I didn’t do anything!!!” you got fed up

“Watch your tone… or your ass is back on a plane to Barcelona before you know it” the blonde said calmly

“Why is always everyone thinking the worst of me??” you said upset

“No one is thinking the worst of you Bits… but you need to think before attacking…” Keira stayed calm not fueling your fire

“I did nothing wrong” you spat

“You got sarcastic…” the blonde pointed out as she pulled into the emirates parking lot

“He was just being an asshat” you sneered as you bolted out of the car

“Keira?!” Leah asked surprised seeing her best friend slandering down the hallway

“Hey… you might want to clear the pitch before Katie gets out there…” Keira answered smirked but kept on walking

“Why would I clear….” Leah looked confused turning on her heels speed walking towards the pitch

“I swear McCain… go produce some fries and leave me alone” the arsenal captain heard your voice

“Your Insults are lacking… that’s all you got?” the Irish laughed as you launched yourself at her a angry cry leaving your lips

Before you could tackle Katie to the ground Leah caught you and turned you away from the Irish

“Hey Poppy… what’s with the mood” Leah hugged you tightly knowing if she let go now you would break Katies legs

“Missed you Leah” you mumbled against her shoulder relaxing a little bit

“I miss my little Pop…” the blonde mumbled back before you spotted someone and quickly pushed out of Leahs hold

“MILEY!!!! Hiiiiiii” you squealed happily as the brown fluff ball came running over to you

“I feel so loved” Meado deadpanned as she reached her captain while you were on the ground with Miley all over you

“Not even three minutes ago she was ready to break Katies legs…” Leah said watching you fondly

“Pumpkin… no… Miley!!!” Beth quickly interrupted your play

“We were just playing” you pouted

“Play nicely” Meado said sternly

“Where’s Viv?” you asked Miley now sitting by your side

“At home… first training today with our new signing” Beth answered

“I hate her already” you grumbled making Leah and Meado laugh

“You’ll love her” Leah chuckled

“100 bucks says I will” you challenge Leah

“You don’t have a 100 bucks” the blonde rolled her eyes

“I don’t… but Lucy has” you grinned and pulled Lucys credit card our of your Bra

“Does she know you took that?” Meado asked raising her eyebrow

“Of course not” you grinned victorious

“Hola Chiquiti” you heard a voice as a brown haired woman passed you

“Hola Mario” you greeted back not realizing the situation

You watched Mariona going over to team starting to warm up with them when it hit you

“WAAAAAAIT A SECOND??!!!!!” you yelled out as Leah and Meado burst out laughing beside you “ARSENAL?!??! Estas jodidamente seria ???”

“Welcome our new player Poppy” now Leah grinned victorious

[amazinglyashy]

hi! First of all - i love the way u write omg😭 i basically went through all your posts last evening and today hahah (procrastinating at it’s finest😌) Second - i wanna request a prompt, but i dunno if it’s too close to the one where ‘reader tells the lads boys that she’s too heavy for them’? if so, just ignore this!🫡💗

If not - could you write something about the boys finding out that reader/mc used to have bulimia(/or unspecified ed) and that she’s quietly struggling again, but not telling them? Maybe something angsty/comforting?

Trigger warning - This involves talk about eating disorders. Please use discretion when reading! Oh my gosh, thank you so much!! That means so much, because I used to write a lot years ago but stopped for a long time. I only got back into it recently, so the love I've been receiving has really done a positive number to my confidence. Thank you, lovely <3 I don't think it's possible for me to NOT write this request, because I'm a long time ED sufferer, and I am currently experiencing a harsh relapse unfortunately... You read me like a book, because 'Too Heavy' was a direct reference to that. It's hard, because it's such an invisible problem that oftentimes you suffer alone. Thank you for the request, hopefully I did it some justice, and for you or anyone who may relate to this post. (Also wrote this while listening to Lullaby - Jhameel on repeat. Give it a listen!)

Love and Deepspace Li's find out about your ED (and your current struggle)

Zayne -

The moment he finds out you live with an ED, he's down at the library finding any books he can, and researching as much as possible throughout the hospital and his old college's database.

He's also finding patient testimonials that have been released, so he can find the most compassionate approach that would help you without causing you any more harm than you already are experiencing at the hands of your own mind.

"I found a new restaurant I want to try. Apparently, they make a certain dish really well, I think we should try it together while we go over the latest mission you wished to tell me about."

He knows what you like, so it makes it easy for him to order things to share together places and ensure you're eating.

He will go out to eat every single day if he needs to, that's not any issue to him. Neither is sharing foods or cooking meals that he knows you love, even if they're not particularly his favorite.

He tries not to talk to you much about it, but does his best to be encouraging and nothing more whenever the subject of professional help comes up.

When you start opening up even more to him, he's all ears, and he's exceedingly careful about his choices of words, like he always is, but even more so now. The last thing he wants is to speak a trigger, especially when he's so focused on helping you get better.

He knows it never truly goes away, your disorder. But that's not an issue. It's more... a fact of being with you. And just like you take his problems and disabilities, he will take every single one of yours as well.

In stride, and with love.

Xavier -

He caught on, mostly because he found it strange that one moment you had eaten every single snack in the cupboard, and the next he heard, you hadn't eaten anything all day. He was wondering if it was something he was just unaware of, but-

Quickly finds out what exactly is going on after a few times of this happening. He was worried it was some strange habit, and now he's even more worried finding out it's been something you've been dealing with for quite a while.

He's upset, to say the least. But he'll keep that to himself.

He just wants to help you now.

He'll ask if there's anything that you feel like sharing with him on how to best help you, and there's definitely a note somewhere on his phone with a list of things you told him. If he can do any of them daily, he will. Anything else is always on his mind.

He doesn't let it get in the way of your day to day, though. You still play games together like normal, read together, and go the arcade whenever you both have the opportunity to win some more plushies for your hoards. He's always conscious about his own comments and behavior, but he doesn't ever let it seem like he's keeping an eye on you or trying to supervise you.

The tightrope of trusting you and helping you deal with your disorder is a thin one, and Xavier dances along it with grace.

No matter what, being around him is a comfort. Whether you're having a good day, or a bad day.

Sylus -

He's pretty internally frustrated when he first find out about it, but he doesn't let it show.

It has nothing to do with you or anything you did. He's just used to... having everything under control. For every problem to have a solution solved easily with money, force, or some compassion.

This is something he can't control.

And he hates it.

Aside from that, Sylus is like a light in the dark.

He had a list of trusted professionals to help you, should you want, and multiple of them at that- just in case you don't feel comfortable with the first one or three.

Any food you genuinely like to eat is available at all times, it does not matter if it is three in the morning. Are you wanting it? Nice, it's right there on your plate.

The frequency of which you see him increases, including the twins, despite both situations being... vastly different.

Where he takes you out for dinners at new and gorgeous restaurants, including ones feature in your favorite media or having special events for a game you like- the twins are throwing bags of snacks at you and yelling at you to throw pieces into their mouths and so they can do the same to you.

You will learn Sylus did not ask them to do this, in fact he explicitly told them not to do that.

It's pretty obvious though, they were worried about Sylus. And not just him, but you too.

Probably because of how much Sylus has been concerned about you, even if just in secret.

He doesn't want his feelings to make you feel anything but loved, so prepare for a speech the second you feel any kind of guilty. You're not getting out of this one.

Not until you know how much he cares about you, no matter what.

Rafayel -

The way he treats it is extremely encompassing. The way he sees it, is if you're sad or not doing too hot mentally, it's going to affect every part of your brain, including the parts that make you feel the way you do with your ED.

Driving you somewhere? He's playing upbeat music pounding out of the speakers of his sports car, singing along goofily or making up new words. You haven't eaten in a long time? Too bad, suddenly he's hungry and wants a snack. In fact, he wants a snack every couple of hours. If you binged and feel like dying, he'll be offering you water and any distraction he can to get your mind off of your appearance or the guilt of your binge.

He will spend more of his own free time at the gym if he needs to to work off any extra weight he gains just to help you eat, if eating with him is what helps you and he doesn't want you to see him change and feel guilty over it. He doesn't care.

Constant, constant praise with him. It is not about your appearance, unless it's something you can change. Clothing you picked out, the way your makeup looks today, a hairstyle you did to yourself, etc. So many compliments on your achievements or work, all with a sweet smile across his face.

If it's really bad, he'll paint you gorgeous works in different sizes, that are conveniently perfectly sized to display directly over any mirrors in your apartment.

Whatever you need, he's on it.

He'll be there for you no matter your highs or your lows.