#prompt: eating disorder

[wolviecat]

All that is new and exciting - Wolviecat - Andor (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

For the @badthingshappenbingo, prompt: Eating disorder

And don't forget to check out the rest of the fills

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whump Prompt #1256

Submitted by Anon - thanks!

TW: starvation | disordered eating

If a character has become accustomed to prolonged under-nourishment, they probably won't be "fine" as soon as they can eat adequately. Of course there's the psychological recovery from whatever experience(s) they had, but also their body may not remember how to deal with normal amounts of food.

A few things they may experience when they start eating more (severe cases can be dangerous and require medical intervention, these are just in the "unpleasant" range):

Poor appetite and rapid/disproportionate satiety

Bad stomach aches

Increased lethargy/fatigue, in general but especially after meals

Suddenly needing a lot more sleep

Dizziness/shakiness/weakness if they haven't eaten for a few hours, even if they don't feel hungry.

[unboundprompts]

hii! how are you? i'm currently writing about a character with ED (bulimia), and i don't know how to exactly write it without it looking like i'm guessing everything.

if you have a web page, or information about it that you can tell me about I'd be very glad to read and learn from it!

thanks!

How to Write a Character with an Eating Disorder

@writinghelpers made a post on this that can be found HERE that includes multiple types of eating disorders, as well as some common misconceptions.

@thecaffeinebookwarrior made a post that can be found HERE and it includes multiple resources for different types of eating disorders, as well as multiple resources of general knowledge regarding ED's.

@lets-get-fictional answered an ask regarding ED's found HERE and they included links and tips on how to not romanticize the ED.

[irondadmadlads]

NEW FIC JUST DROPPED

Tw: This fic deals with EDs, specifically ARFID. Please don’t read if this is a triggering subject matter to you!

[coffeexxcigarettes]

Almond Milk

-

Sometimes I don't know what's actually me.

I'm sure that's confusing,

So hear me out, if you have the time.

I believe we are made of wires

And memories.

Pathways to which we learn lessons.

For example,

If you speak too loudly and are shushed,

The wire bends within you.

You learn to speak softer.

I'm not sure, I suppose,

If I really like almond milk,

Or if you taught me that there were good foods

And that there were bad.

I'm not sure if blending almonds with water really does taste better,

Or if the wire within me tangled into a ball

To fill my stomach instead.

I trusted you to teach me young,

Yet I have memories of us,

Counting every damn almond in the house.

Strange how I have no memories of us

Actually eating one.

x

..

..

..@nosebleedclub April 17th- Almond Milk

[aropride]

i need to get new fucking jeans almost none of my jeans fit right anymroe its making me crazy a little bit . but i also dont want to invest in new jeans cuz im like Well maybe ill gain weight soon and the old ones will fit again. -_-

[goforro]

⚠️ HUGE TW UNDER THE CUT FOR A WHUMPEE WITH AN EATING DISORDER. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!! ⚠️

i’ve been thinking about a whumpee with an eating disorder/disordered eating recently

of course it has nothing to do with my own eating problems whatt?? that’s crazyyy haha

- a whumpee that just got back from a treatment center. they go a few days without seeing themselves in a mirror or changing clothes. that is, until caretaker asks if the want to go out. whumpee tries to put on their old clothes, only to realize they’re too small. cue panicked searching for a mirror and a meltdown when they see their body

- whumpees who were given their eating disorders by whumper. maybe whumper force fed them while in captivity, leading to a whumpee that binges often during recovery. maybe whumper simply made fun of whumpee’s body type, leading to a whumpee with who refuses to eat.

- whumpees that associate the smell of most foods with a chef whumper, so they can only really eat bland foods for a long time

- TW: EMETO whumpees that purge. whumpers that make their whumpee purge. caretakers catching whumpee in the act

- caretaker tries to play ball with a recovering whumpee, but eventually it’s too dangerous to let them continue their behaviors. whether it’s force feeding whumpee, keeping them on a strict eating schedule, or watching them in the bathroom, it destroys whumpees trust in caretaker. cue angst.

- all the awful symptoms that come along with malnutrition. dizziness, shivering, fatigue, nausea, muscle wasting, for AFAB whumpees missed periods, all the things

- EMETO whumpees that destroy their body because of how much they make themselves vomit. permanently damaging their voice box, losing teeth, scratching the back of their throat, etc.

- body dysmorphia. that’s it. that’s the prompt.

- caretakers that have to cover/lock up every mirror or scale in the house or give whumpee a time limit in the bathroom because whumpee is a persistent little shit

- whumpee ripping out their feeding tube (do NOT do this under any circumstances ever. i’m serious)

heavy heavy prompt list today, please take care of yourselves 🫶🏾

[kidsomeday]

Summary:

“It’s worse than that,” Chuuya said. “He hasn’t gone grocery shopping in two weeks.”

“Well sometimes we all lose track of time-”

“He hasn’t needed to go grocery shopping in two weeks,” Akutagawa cut in.

Dazai took a moment to process that.

“Fuck,” was his conclusion.

Atsushi and Dazai both struggle with their inner demons, but at least they're not alone.

(Elsewhere, he thinks he might begin to understand.) Written for Dazatsu Week Day 4 (belated) (This fic deals with eating disorders and self harm. Mind the tags and take care of yourself.)

[f1-disaster-bi]

Pierre looking after lando, making sure his boy is ok, 💜

" always giving the other the first bite of their food "

TW for Disordered Eating/ED (not graphic but mentions issues with eating due to anxiety, and brief mention of fainting)

Pierre knew about Lando's struggle with food.

It was a complicated relationship that made Lando frown whenever he tried to explain it. He had talked about how it wasn't to do with his weight or control, but rather his anxiety.

He had explained it once, telling Pierre that he just didn't feel hungry at times. When he was stressed or overwhelmed, his brain and body were out of whack. Signals were missed, and Lando could go hours without eating anything, sometimes even a day, when he was stuck in a spiral.

Pierre knew now that it was easier when someone was with Lando, and that instead of reminding him to eat, it was easier to just gently encourage him with safe foods and no comment on how long it had between between Lando's meals.

He had talked to Jon too, wanting to be able to support Lando as best as he could when times got hard. He had only ever see Lando faint once during an anxiety spiral that had him barely eating for a week, and that had been terrifying enough, so Pierre had found his own way of helping his boyfriend.

The first half of the season had been hard on them both, but Pierre had seen how it had begun to wear Lando down. He didn't break under the pressure, but things were starting to bend. They were starting to back slide in a way that him worried, and he wasn't the only one. He had seen the little looks and whispered between Adam and Jon, and so here Pierre was.

He was sitting on the deck of the yacht he had chartered with Lando on his lap.

His boyfriend was distracted, watching a video Alex had sent of him and Lily doing something funny and he was smiling. It made it easy for Pierre to lift the fork full of Lando's favourite pasta to his lips, offering him the first as he always did because sometimes when Lando wasn't hungry, getting him to eat with Pierre was the easiest way to make sure he was eating.

Lando hesitated for a moment before he grinned and took the bite. He moaned a little at the taste, and Pierre was definitely giving the chefs a huge tip at the end of their charter as Lando chewed on the pasta happily.

"That's so good" Lando murmuered after a moment, licking some stray sauce from his lips as Pierre took a bite for himself, "Can I have another bite?"

Pierre grinned after he had swallowed, and leaned in to kiss his cheek gently, smearing a little bit of red sauce that Lando would scowl at him for later.

"Of course, mon coeur", Pierre replied as he prepped another forkful for Lando who happily took it.

"You're the best", Lando muttered with his mouth still a little full but Pierre didn't care as he kissed Lando's shoulder before taking another bite for himself.

The pasta would probably be cold by the time they finished it, but he didn't care.

All he cared about was Lando here in his arms, safe and happy and healthy.

[raging-violets]

"Please never do that again." + dealers choice!

Big Time Rush: Life on the Line | Prompt | Logan Mitchell and Rhuben Jackson-McGuire (OC)

Authored by: Rhuben

A/N: SOOOO sorry it took so long to get this one done. The idea for it came very very recently. Really had no idea how to end this one, but here it is! Set during Big Time Cameo

otp prompt: protectiveness | Prompt List

“What’s everyone saying?” 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea if I show you.”

“Logan, please.”

“You just got home!” 

Rhuben let out a huff-sigh of annoyance. Partly in response to the push back, and partially in annoyance at the lackadaisical way the chair Logan was settled in slowly rocked from side to side as he pushed himself. As if none of this was a big deal.

Logan let out a quiet sigh in response. He watched her pensively as she shifted from one seated position on her bed, to stretching out her legs, to pulling one knee up tapping the mattress with the sole of her sock-covered foot, to sitting cross-legged. Even in her own bedroom, in her own home, she couldn’t get comfortable.

“I have to know. You know I’ll find out eventually.” She had figured the second she got back home from inpatient, she’d be brought into her dad’s office for a meeting on the plan for damage control. But, no.

It was all hugs (an exuberant “Yayyy” from Sydney as he pushed through his brothers and sister) the usual sibling needling, and laughs. She needed that, and wanted it, more than she thought she would for someone who was barely away from home for a week. Truth be told, she hadn’t ever been away from her family for more than two days at most. Perks of being in a family band. And liking being around her family. (For the most part. Patrick did test that pretty often.)

But sooner rather than later, she’d have to face reality. Noah had slipped a quiet “They’re talking about you” into her ear the next morning, miming holding his cell phone as they sat at the breakfast table. She had only nodded in response.

“Paps are starting to line up at the gate,” her dad had announced shortly after as he sat down at the head of the table. “Security’s making sure not to let anyone in unless they’re an approved guest.” 

“Great.” Rhuben had given the only verbal in response as her brothers and sister nodded.

Paps. Did you hear him? Paps. At our front door. Because of what you did! 

Logan had thought he had given her and her family enough time and privacy before going to visit. There was some sort of energy that was off that he could feel as he stepped into the Jackson-McGuire home. It was as noisy and crazy as usual, but there was just something in the air that struck him as soon as he stepped over the threshold. The questions had started the second he had released her from his hug, his “Welcome home” barely out of his mouth.

“Gustavo and your dad have bene talking; they’re figuring it out,” Logan explained, still twisting in the chair. “It’s ok.”

“How’s Dara?” Logan’s lips shifted upwards into a slight, sad smile. Rhuben was always thinking about others, something he really liked about her. But it was always at the expense of herself. And she was thinking about herself, as recent events have shown, it wasn’t always in a nice way.

“She’s ok. She’s safe. The conditions of the Coco.0 set are being looked into.”

“And your cameo?”

“It’s ok.”

Rhuben grabbed her pillow and hugged it to her chest. “Logan!” she said, sharply, in contrast to the pout that was coming to her face. She blinked her blue eyes at him. It was the same look her older brother had taught her to give to their parents whenever they wanted to attempt to get what they wanted. A lot of the time, it worked, too.

Logan stopped twisting in her desk chair and stretched his arms above his head. His chest lifted with a deep inhale, and upon exhaling he crossed his arms over his chest. And crossed his legs at the ankles. “We’re getting some blowback about it.”

Bingo.

Her cheeks puffed up with a heavy sigh. She pressed her lips together and grabbed fistfuls of her pillow before flinging it at the wall in a hard strike. “God…damn it!”

“Hey, stop.” Logan pulled himself out of her chair and quickly crossed the room to sit beside her on her bed. He reached out his hand and took Rhuben’s, gently squeezing it. “Fans are still excited that we have a cameo on Coco.0. And they’re excited for the new song.”

He had to bite his tongue to stop himself from rattling off everything swirling around in his head that he could find out about eating disorders. He had made that mistake after initially finding out about the Jacksons’ abuse and thinking he was helping by quoting facts, statistics, and literature to her. He wanted to be a doctor; he just wanted to be knowledgeable and have good bedside manners. And as her friend, he wanted her to know he cared.

Rhuben fought the urge to pull her hand out of his grasp. She could feel her body tensing up, her upper lip curling slightly. She didn’t deserve any of his softness or support. She had put his career in jeopardy. And Dara’s, too.

“It’s okay,” Logan insisted in her silence.

“Stop saying ‘it’s ok’,” she all but snapped. “I hate that.”

It was just as annoying as “How are you?” She had a breakdown. How did everyone think she was? And it was all said in the same soft tone, with the same stupid soft look in their eyes and ugh! It was all just so…nice. As if everyone was worried she really was as fragile as glass. Hadn’t she proven, despite everything she had been through over the years, that she was strong? Adaptable? Capable?

“But it is.”

“No, it’s not!” Rhuben pulled her knees to her chest. She pulled her hand out of Logan’s to wrap her arms around her knees, she lifted a thumb to her mouth and started biting down on the nail. “This is...” Rhuben shook her head, her words dying on her lips.

Unacceptable. 

Unprofessional 

Your outburst was inexcusable. 

That voice could’ve been harsher. It had always used to be harsher in the past. Always lurking at the back of her mind, waiting to jump out and tell her exactly what she was doing wrong, or how she wasn’t good enough. Always at just the right time. She didn’t know when, but at some point that voice had changed. It was no longer the deep, sneering, low drawl of Robert. Now it was too much like her own voice. Or maybe it had always been that way, feeding off of Robert’s words, and now that he was gone, it was just making itself heard.

Logan frowned, watching the crease that formed between Rhuben’s eyebrows as she fell silent. Watched how her eyes squinted slightly. How, at the same time, her face went blank. He recognized that look now. It was one that came to her face when the intrusive thoughts were starting in. When she became calculating. When, if she wasn’t stopped fast enough, her thoughts could take her into a tailspin.

“A blip. That’s all. Just a blip,” Logan reassured her, messing with a thread on he bedspread. “You know how quickly these things blow over. Look at all that stuff with Gustavo and Belgium. No one really remembers any of that happened.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “We’re all more worried about you than our cameo. Ok?”

Rhuben shook her head. “No,” she said flatly. “Not ok.” It was impossible to ignore how small she felt. Embarrassed. She embarrassed herself, her family, everyone that worked at Phoenix Records, Big Time Rush, Roque Records, and the producers at CoCo.0 to boot.

Logan sighed through his nose, feeling his shoulders drop. Both with the weight of sympathy for his friend and frustration of not knowing what to say. Or how to say it. Or what was even the right thing to say right now. In a way, he could understand it; the embarrassment of Gustavo’s slip up with Belgium, not to mention their gaffe with the pitched reality show, and the bad press with the proposed idea that Lucy’s angry-rock songs were about Kendall; Carlos allegedly taking his anger out his anger on older women; and Logan’s affinity for robbing older women. Only James managed a scandal that put eyes on the band in a good way.

“Just…please, never do that again,” Logan said quietly.

Rhuben scoffed through her nose. “Which part?” she asked, flickering her blue eyes towards him. “The not eating part? The not telling anyone part? Or the disappearing part?”

“All of it.” He had gone over the past years so many times. How hadn’t he noticed? He could spot a developing cold or flu from a mile away for crying out loud. Or had he become more caught up in the glamorous Hollywood lifestyle that he lost sight of his dream? Or was it just so normal in Los Angeles, New York, and this industry, to keep in top shape, and eat the right thing and follow the right diet, that he didn’t notice? Or maybe he didn’t want to see it. Or was he still annoyed that James knew before him? And he was supposed to be her best friend.

Or as was the case as he came to find out in his readings, is that it all came down to the fact that she didn’t want anyone to notice.

He bobbed his head back and forth. “The blowup part wasn’t that great, either.”

It had really come out of nowhere, and just at quickly had finished. In the silence following, the Jacksons quickly left the set, and went low contact with everyone just as fast. No call backs, texts weren’t responded to, and for a family that usually had everyone around to their home, they weren’t wanting any visitors, either.

The incident. Six million views. Across all platforms. Because she forgot that everyone had cell phones glued to their hands.

Her lips pressed into a tight line.

Often, she’d been told she was too clinical, her humor too dry, smiles too rare. That’s just how she was at work. No nonsense. Get work done now and play hard later. Her mind was usually just on her work. Others thought she was an ice queen. Or a bitch if they were more blunt. And, boy, was she blunt when telling Dara’s stepmother everything that was wrong about her and how controlling she was.

Los Angeles was where dreams came true. And Rhuben did whatever she could to help her and her siblings reach that dream. To be the best. To go as far as they could with their music the way they wanted. No one would take that away from them. And she wouldn’t let anyone take it away from her friends. It was born out of protectiveness; she couldn’t sit by watching another rising star get their dreams crushed and ground into dirt before it even had the opportunity to be thought up. Especially not by an overbearing, evil, witch of a step-mother like Dara’s. She had spent enough years witnessing that kind of treatment first-hand and she wasn’t going to stand by and watch an up-and-coming star like Dara Washington’s exuberance get ground into the dust before she even had a chance in the industry.

Rhuben hum-laughed. That was just how she was. She made sure everyone else was ok. She got her work done. She did everything to the best of her ability. She did everything as close to perfect as she could make it. She met every deadline and expectation thrown at her. All the while keeping her thoughts and feelings to herself until it came out in one blow up of carefully crafted words and anger. She didn’t want anyone outside of family to know she was in treatment, not even her closest friends.

“Sorry, Logie, I can’t promise you that.”

Logan grabbed the abandoned pillow and hugged it to his own chest. “Which part?” he asked, starting to play with the tag on the side.

“Any of it.”

Logan let out a low chuckle. “Yeah, didn’t think you could. Not now, anyway. I mean that what therapy is for, right? To get you to that point?”

“And outpatient treatment,” Rhuben agreed with a nod. She unfolded herself and settled back into the rest of her pillows, crossing her arms over her chest. She swallowed, staring up at the ceiling. “Yeah, got it in one. Something like that, anyway. It’ll be all about how not meeting expectations isn’t failing, and that no one will think less of me if things aren’t perfect. How to not get sucked in by all the pressure.”

Logan silently nodded. That he could understand. That overwhelming pressure that had been on and off ever since he, Kendall, James, and Carlos got to Los Angeles. The right songs had to be put on the album in the right order with the right person singing the right part to make a great album. Then their marketing strategy had to be top notch; interviews, television appearances, social media posts, collaborations, cameos. On and on and on. Doing more and more and more for the chance at fame.

Sometimes Logan wondered if it all was worth it; doing whatever you could for an industry that didn’t love you as much as you loved it. As he looked over at Rhuben’s solemn expression, he knew when it came to people in his life, it always was.

-

Tag List: @partiallypearl

[writinggremlin]

Another whump prompt for you guys!

TW: Eating Disorder (restrictive) (No, seriously. If you have issues with food and/or body image, or are recovering from that, skip this one. Remember that you are good enough and that you do matter, and that there are people out there who want to care about you. Stay safe.)

Whumpee with a restrictive eating disorder who also feels like they don't matter. Something happens to them that only solidifies their belief that they really don't matter and that nobody cares about them. In response, there is only one thought on their mind:

"Starve until you do matter."

So they do. They become determined and stubborn, strictly sticking to the little or no food they allow themself. They manage to keep it hidden for a bit, and nobody catches on. Well-- until one day...

When Whumpee passes out in front of Caretaker.

Bonus points: The inciting incident is an argument between Caretaker and Whumpee. The angst there is real. Maybe once Caretaker finds out, they're upset at Whumpee for starving themself like that. But then when they ask why they're doing it, and inevitably discover that it was because of their own words/actions... that's when the guilt slams into Caretaker like a truck.

[writingpencil]

"I turned out this way and I can guarantee it wasn't because of the yelling."

"You never know."

"I do know because I'm the product of it."

[writinq-and-whump]

whump ideas I have for a character I used to like but don’t like any longer bc he hurt my adopted son so now I whump him

Hair pulling! Being *yanked* to the ground by their hair so hard they see stars and they maybe get a concussion? Bleed a little? The possibilities are endless!!

Starvation! There are many ways to do this. For one, you can plain not give the whumpee food, but you could also mutilate bodies in front of them, make them associate food with punishment for lifelong trauma, or (my favourite) kill and gut small animals we eat (fish, chickens, rabbit, etc) in front of them! Or repeated food poisoning.

Cutting Whumpee with a blunt object that’s kinda sharp, like scissors or a paring knife. Bonus points if it’s dirty and they get an infection.

Banging head against the wall repeatedly until Whumpee just gives in, and then Whumper does a complete 180 and hello Stockholm syndrome!!

Silencing Whumpee with a kiss. Intimate Whumper is just so ✨✨

_ _ _

Please reblog with your uses and thoughts on my prompts! I work hard to make them original! :)

Until next time!

[theprofessionalpromptmaker]

"I’m a queer anorexic, or as I like to refer to myself ‘a skeleton in the closet’.”

[ame1lia]

all an act

every time I glance at my fully healed scars

I can’t help but miss the blood

but now they are filled with little stars

like it was the flood

that used to cover them whole

playing my little perfect role

closing my eyes

ignoring my break down

covering the repeating cries

trying not to frown

it’s just me and this never ending feeling

about gaining weight, so unappealing

cause maybe this is all an act,

and nothing can be seen as a fact

it’s just me and the ambition

battling with my condition

[suffercerebral]

me having gone to bed at 6 am every day for the past week and generally spiraling mentally while rotting in bed waking up this morning: a 4 mile hike in the heat is a really good idea right now, and while we're at it let's start like 3 art projects