#tw: anorexia

[dolcesart]

[moonogre]

okay but how many more days am i meant to just heave myself through this bleak, exhausting horror

[ashdoeswhump]

Tw: anorexia, abuse

What about a ballet dancer whumpee? (I specify ballet, since that's my frame of reference, but you can do whatever you'd like with these)

What is whumper's relationship to whumpee? Dance teacher? Obsessed parent (all of us in dance knows at least one)? Maybe they're whumpee's dance partner. Or maybe, they're an obsessed fan who can't get enough of whumpee's dancing. Maybe they're rich or famous or a political leader who likes the idea of free personal entertainment.

Does whumper force them to dance for them? Do they put whumpee up on a giant music box and make them twirl for hours without rest?

Or maybe it's a g/t whump, and the music box is normal sized. Does whumpee sleep and live in the box? Are they ever allowed out?

Does whumper take them to parties to dance with them, showing off their prize?

Does whumper beat or cut the soles of whumpee's feet so they can't dance anymore? Or maybe cut them in such a way that they have to walk en pointe all the time to avoid the pain of stepping on the soles of their feet (which leads to even more pain)?

Does whumper force whumpee to starve themselves so they can have that "perfect dancing figure"? Does whumpee look in the mirror and see ribs and still think they're too fat? Do they willingly refuse meals to try and get thinner?

Does whumper even know that whumpee dances? Has whumpee kept it to themself so they can still have this one piece of themselves, this one things that they love, that whumper can't corrupt? Does whumper find out later? How do they react?

Let's talk about the physical effects of dancing as well. Trembling, aching arms. Bruised and bleeding toes. Legs that feel like jelly. A face that hurts from smiling too wide for too long. So Many Foot Cramps! Let me tell you, those hurt. When your toes cramp, it feels almost like they've been dislocated. If whumpee is forced to go en pointe too early in their life, before their body has properly developed, it could lead to ankles and feet forming wrong, so you can't walk correctly. If they go en pointe before they have the necessary ankle strength and training, they could sprain/break their ankle and cause permanent damage. If their shoes are broken in wrong, they're form will be wrong which will also lead to injuries. Also, it is incredibly difficult to walk in pointe shoes. Whumpee could twist their ankle walking down the stairs, or even just crossing a room.

Does caretaker go to great lengths once whumpee is free to help them love dancing again, because it used to bring them so much happiness? Or is it too much for whumpee, the memories so attached to the act that they can't separate the two? Does whumpee ever dance again?

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Light on the Darkside - Chapter Five.

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added/removed.

Words - 3,037

Warnings - 18+ throughout. Topics cover depression, suicide and eating disorders. Minors DNI!

“Well, I have to say I’m pleased with your progress, James. Lately, you’ve appeared brighter, although there are a few issues we need to iron out with your behaviour towards authority. I need not remind you that you must do as the orderlies ask of you. I hear you’ve made a friend as well, which is very positive. I must note though, despite all this good work, you don’t appear to be all too chipper today. Shall we discuss that?” 

“Nah.” 

It was one step forward and two steps back with this young man half the time, Dr. Beaumont thought, watching him slumped down in the chair before her. His long legs were stretched out, his hoodie pulled up to partially conceal his face. That was one of the little tell-tale signs with his mood, she’d noticed. If it was bad, he had a tendency to hide within it.  

“James, we cannot progress in your therapy if you continue to bottle up these feelings. It is much more conducive to your recovery to get them out.” 

Chewing his lip, he shrugged, eyes not moving away from the window to meet hers as he began to frown. “Don’t wanna progress. It’d just be easier if I weren’t here at all. It’s all total bullshit, innit.” 

Oh, he was back there again, emotionally absconded to his depressive void. “And what is it that’s brought this on?” 

“Stuff.” 

“An elaboration would be helpful to me, James. I can’t help you if you continually refuse to open up to me. This is very frustrating, given all the recent progress you’ve been making,” she tried, her tone firm but gentle.  

Truly, there was only one person he wanted to tell. The person who didn’t study him like a lab rat while scribbling notes, the person who knew only too well how that felt. He shut down completely for the rest of his therapy session, and although she did not want to reward such, his recent good behaviour had earned him something she couldn’t take off the table. It could likely make him worse if she did, she reasoned. 

“Well, although our session has not moved forward in the way I’d hoped, I can tell you that due to your recent improved behaviour, we’ve decided to give you grounds privileges.” 

“Cheers for that.” His tone might’ve still been flat, but he was out of his seat like a shot in order to go and enjoy them, she guessed. Perhaps such might make him open up more during their next session, give a little back for the reward he’d been handed. She could only hope. 

“Oi, little,” he called upon arriving at the common room door. “Wanna come for a walk?” 

Ella’s head shot up from where she was sitting with Andrea and Emma, a new girl admitted for symptoms much matching his own. “What, you can actually go outside?” 

“Yup.” 

“Ahh, cool beans! Let’s go!” 

Turning, Andrea pulled a kissy face at him. “Can I come, too? I know all the spots we can hide and have a bit of fun.” 

“Andrea,” Tracy warned, shaking her head, “that’s one.” 

“Not in the mood, Andrea,” James spoke, frowning. 

“Moody bloody goth,” she tutted. 

“Slag.” 

“James! You’ll have those grounds privileges revoked if you carry on with that mouth,” Tracy warned him, being met with an eyeroll as Ella arrived with him, giving him a little poke in the chest with her finger.  

“Stop being a dickhead, church burner,” she warned lightly, her joke falling very flat, his face remaining sullen. God, he looked so gorgeous when he was grumpy. Well, to Ella he looked gorgeous all the time, but she kept that to herself. There was absolutely no way somebody like him would ever fancy her. “What’s up?” 

“Tell you in a bit.”  

Accepting that, they neared the doors, both having to sign out in the book on their way before James stepped into his first taste of semi-freedom in three months. The fresh air felt great, the sunshine warm on his face, taking a deep breath he held before exhaling it slowly. He still felt shit, but being outside made it a little better, as did the nudge at his side. Opening his eyes, he saw a cigarette offered to him, Ella lighting her own before handing over her lighter. 

He took a long drag, inhaling, feeling his nerves buzz. “Shitting hell, that’s better.” There were several rolling banks undulating the grounds, the pair walking down to the second before taking a seat on the neatly mown grass, James lying back while Ella sat with her knees drawn up at his side.  

“So, why isn’t my BFG a happy camper?” BFG to her stood for big friendly goth. It had made him laugh, the first time she’d coined it a few days prior. Sadly, at that moment it had no similar effect whatsoever. 

“I called Steve yesterday, and he was playing me rough recordings of songs he’d been working on. Did the guitar bits himself, and it sounded way better than anything I could have come up with. So like, what’s the bloody point? He can do a better job than I can, so I might as well not even be here. The band don’t need me, so fuck it. It was the only thing getting me through, innit. Fucking, yeah. That’s it.” 

How perilous it was, the seesaw between hope and hopelessness James sat himself upon. “If Steve was that brilliant on guitar, then like, why were you even there at all to begin with? Because you’re obviously talented, and a vital part of Nocturnal Descent. Stop being silly. You’ve been so much better over the last three weeks. Surely, you’re not going to let a little bleedin’ thing like this set you back?” 

He sighed, taking another long drag on his cigarette. “Ella, if I still feel like this when I’m up to my eyeballs in medication, then what fucking hope do I have?” 

“None if you let the intrusive thoughts win,” she shrugged, reaching to stroke his arm fondly. “You can’t just like, let the medication do it all. You have to put some effort in, too.” Pausing, she considered her next words carefully. “Okay, so like, I’d get it if Steve had told you that they didn’t need you back, and that him, Snedders, Gaz and Dan were carrying on as a four piece without you, but he didn’t. This whole ‘nobody would miss me if I wasn’t here’ thing you have going on only exists in your head. It isn’t the truth.” 

“Ain’t it?” he snorted, frown deepening. 

“No!” she cried, waving her hands around. “By all accounts, your mates love you to death, so do your sister and your dad. Your mum, too, even though she’s a bit of a pain in the arse from what you’ve told me. So many people would miss you!” Pausing, she curled into herself more, dropping her gaze from the stormy grey of his eyes, turning her head to look out over the grounds. “I’d miss you, if you weren’t here. I’d really fucking miss you.” 

How fond she’d truly grown of him in those short few weeks they’d begun to lean upon one another.  

Continuing to look out at where the sunshine illuminated the grass, listening to the sound of the birds tweeting in the many tall trees dotted around the grounds, she felt like she hadn’t been heard for a few moments. A nervous feeling crept over her, heat rising in her cheeks, her arms tingling. Was that the wrong thing to say, to lament how much she’d miss him if he was gone? She realised it wasn’t when his hand met the bottom of her back, beginning to stroke where her long-sleeved t shirt had ridden up a little. 

Watching where he flicked his finished cigarette past her, it smouldered to nothing in the grass, Ella stubbing her own out and turning to him with a little smile. Finally, he returned it. 

“Come here, little. Give us a hug.” Resting her head to his chest, it slipped to his arm as he turned onto his side, enveloping her, pushing a strong thigh between hers. Comfort. Support. Someone who listened, and oh, how they’d found it in each other.  

Closing her eyes, Ella burrowed her face against his chest, curling into him completely, her hand stroking over his pectoral muscle. Solid as rock. She bet he looked amazing under his t shirt. Pity she’d never likely find that out first hand. Oh, if only she knew what was going on in James’s brain right at that second as he held her close, feeling his insides beginning to spark. 

“Oh, shitting hell. Don’t fucking kiss her, don’t do it, man. Seriously, ain’t gonna lead anywhere good... but fuck, at least I know my meds haven’t fucked with my sex drive now. Fucks sake! Can’t even think about that, I’d break her, she’s so tiny. Fucking shatter her pelvis to pieces, innit. Nah, don’t do it. It’ll make everything even more complicated. But shit, I want her badly.”  

Meanwhile, Ella’s thoughts were much less of a maelstrom.  

“God, I wish he’d kiss me. Bet I’m not pretty enough for him, though. He probably likes all those gorgeous goth girls who look like Morticia Addams.” 

She didn’t dare look up at him, because she knew she’d do something stupid like kiss him, and the embarrassment of having him let her down wasn’t something she could deal with in her present state.  

Why was life so unfair? 

The silence they shared was a lot less comfortable than an outsider would likely think it looked. Although their brains shouted utter nonsense at them, bodily, curled up together, they were nothing but content.  

“How’d you feel now?” Ella finally asked, her voice small, a little shy, even. 

“Better, you know,” he confessed, thumb idly stroking her shoulder. “Always am when you’re around.”  

She smiled. “I am the death repellent.” 

“Kinda,” he sniffed. “Still wanna die, just a lot less. I dunno, you make sense of my thoughts when they’re all jumbled up. Not all of them, but most, innit.” He definitely couldn’t say what had begun creeping over him as he held her was helped by her at all. Oh no. She was the catalyst there.  

The comfort of having her so close sadly didn’t outweigh the way his thoughts spiralled out of control, the flourish of desire for her mixed with his depressive episode not a good fit. Turning away, he resumed lying on his back, keeping one arm around her, the other reaching to pick at one of the rips on his jeans.  

“Ahh, that’s it, then,” she thought, sitting up and curling her knees to her chest once more. “He had the perfect chance to kiss me just then, if he wanted to. We’re just mates and nothing else.”  

“Looking all glum over there, little,” he noted, propping himself up on his elbows as he squinted against the sun. “Selfish dickhead, it’s my turn to be moody, not yours.” 

“Shut your hole, church burner.”  

Finally, he laughed. He’d never cease to find that funny.  

They remained outside for another cigarette, chatting casually before heading back inside. Parting ways at the stairs, James revealed he was in need of a nap, telling her he’d catch up with her later that evening after dinner. Ella cut a sad little figure as she walked back to the common room alone. 

He swung the door shut behind him, kicking off his boots and collapsing face first onto the bed, groaning long and low into the pillow.  

“Not now, man. Get your head right before you start thinking about women. Don’t drag someone as lovely as her into your shit. She’s got her own issues without you trying to poke your dick in her.”  

The part of his brain that had those staunch words with himself sadly went in stark contrast with the part that conjured the dream he found himself in after falling asleep, James unsure whether he actually was dreaming, it felt so real. If it wasn’t real, then he had no idea how he could feel the exact intensity and pleasure of receiving a blowjob if it wasn’t actually happening.  

“Oi, you’re about to get us in a fuckload of trouble, little,” he told Ella, rumbling a chuckle as he looked down, watching his cock sliding back out from within the deep suck of her pretty mouth.  

“As if you’re complaining about me sucking your dick,” she winked, her hand taking over as her lips pressed a kiss against the deep line of muscle creasing his hip. “Got a bleedin’ nerve, BFG.”  

“Nah, I ain’t complaining at all,” he began, groaning when her mouth moved to swallow him back once more. Fuck, she was good. “It's just that checks are every fifteen minutes and I dunno how long ago the last one was. Doesn’t give us a lot of time.” 

“Don’t need a lot of time. Trust me.” God, she wasn’t wrong, her mouth continuing to glide, her tongue pressing into the thick vein engorging his shaft, his hands moving to tangle in her hair. His chest began to heave, tingles rushing, gritting as with a soft curse, he came deep in her throat.  

His head shot up off the pillow, wide awake and incredibly horny from the dream he’d just had, sighing and flopping down again. Nope. This couldn’t be anything he actively pursued. He knew himself and he knew he simply wasn’t well enough to begin letting thoughts creep in about women.  

It didn’t stop them from doing so, though. And still, he couldn’t keep away from her, didn’t want to although he knew deep down that he probably should.  

“What are you doing, princess?” he asked, lying on the sofa with his head in her lap the following afternoon. 

“A little plait,” she replied, taking the strands of his beautiful hair and showing him. His hair was ridiculous. Part of hers had started falling out from her lack of eating, quite thin in comparison to how it used to be. James’s was like spun silk, very thick and now past his waist in length. Total dream hair.  

“You fucking better not be making me look like Pocahontas!”  

His barked statement made her snort with giggles. “No, I’ll undo it again in a bit. I just need something to fiddle with.”  

“I don’t mind really,” he began, “you girls seem to have a thing for my hair. It looks shit right now, though. Brown roots ain’t a good look.” 

She pointed to her own head. “Yep, with you there big time! I hate that they won’t let me bleach it. It’s pants, not cool beans by far. Someone like me needs as much as she can to look pretty!” 

He arched an eyebrow, his lip curling. “What the shitting hell do you mean, someone like you?” 

“You know,” she shrugged, coming to the end of the thin plait and twirling it around her finger before unpicking it again. “I’m not pretty.” 

“Like fuck, you’re not,” he snorted. Again, she shrugged. “Do I need to have a few words with you about this, Ells bells?” 

Ells bells, that was a new one. “You’re just being nice to make me feel better.”  

“James isn’t ever nice unless he really means it,” Andrea spoke from behind the pages of Heat magazine, her ears picking up on everything as usual before offering her standard succinct commentary. 

“And that’s the truth right there,” he stated, pointing at where Andrea sat cross legged opposite them on the other sofa. “Oh, sorry for calling you a slag. Didn’t mean it.” 

“You did, and I am.” Lowering the magazine, the corner of her mouth curled up a little bit. “Appreciated, though.” 

Turning his attention back to Ella, he shook his head, reaching for her face. “Fucking kills me, innit. How you don’t see what I do. Total fucking bullshit.”  

She couldn’t get her mind past that he was merely trying to make her feel good about herself, but still, his statement made her heart thump. “And what do you see? Because all I see is a fat person who isn’t pretty at all.” 

Sitting up, he took her hand and stood from the sofa, leading her from the common room and down the hallway. They signed out at the doors, the outside as grey as Ella’s mood, the threat of rain in the dark clouds above despite the warm temperature. 

“Alright, wanna know what I see?” he began, stopping around the corner of the facility, where the path opened up to one of the car parks. “I don’t see a pretty girl, really. Suppose you’re right there. Ella, you ain’t pretty. You’re fucking beautiful. Those girls who picked on you in school and started this whole mess with how you see yourself, they knew you were beautiful, too. Just wanted to cut you down to make themselves feel better, innit.” 

Her bottom lip began to wobble, her eyes glassing as she hugged herself, sniffing hard and riddled with discomfort. Beautiful. He’d called her beautiful. “I’m not, though.”  

He sighed, one half his brain screaming at him to stop what he was about to do, the other half telling him fuck it. Go with it. “Top grade rubbish, that. Wanna know how I know?”  

Again, she shrugged, her heart beating so rapidly, she felt queasy. 

Reaching for her, he held her face in his big hands, thumbs stroking her cheeks. “I don’t kiss girls who aren’t beautiful.”  

And then he did, Ella’s internal voice screaming with joy and disbelief, wrapping her arms around his neck as her insides truly, for the first time in months, began to bloom wildly. God, he was such a good kisser, her body humming with it, with him, his arms enveloping her slender frame, holding her closer.  

As for James, he knew it probably wasn’t the best decision he could ever make, acting on what he felt for another person just as troubled as he was. For that moment, it definitely was the right one, though.  

[ofdinosanddais1]

Eugenia Cooney has never told people that they should look like her. She said they should feel comfortable in their own bodies. She said people should not try to look like her. If a kid looks at Eugenia as thinspiration, the eating disorder was already there. She didn't cause anything because she tells her audience that people should not try to look like her but learn to be comfortable in their own bodies. That is the exact opposite of promoting anorexia.

Eugenia saying "this is just how my body is" is not promoting an eating disorder. She's stating a fact. She has a condition that is visible. She has a condition that makes her body look a certain way. Her stating that does not make it promotion.

If you want to criticize Eugenia Cooney, criticize her with the correct information not whatever y'all make up in your head to justify your harassment.

[the-stage-manager]

I know that everybody prefers plus-sized Gale, but please consider: underweight Gale. He spent his time sulking in the tower miserable and refusing to eat—thats the reason he fucked up and got caught in the portal, he was weak from not eating for days on end. He LOVES cooking for people, and especially loves the look on their faces when they eat something delicious, but saw no reason to do so after Mystra abandoned him.

Look, just give me a Gale who has to be reminded to eat. Let Tav and Karlach make Gale little snacks to eat on the road because he gets dizzy and lightheaded when he doesn't eat. Tav, with their eyes big and worried, gently asking Gale if he's eaten. Let Gale be anxious about his appearances because he's too thin. Let him bury his face in Tav's shoulder as they stroke his hair and reassure him that they love him as he is, but that a little glucose in his blood will make him feel better.

Plus size Gale is broke. The real magic is underweight Gale who needs to be coaxed into eating.

[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

[half-shadowgalra]

Body/Anatomy practice sketches

tw: self harm scars (they are very faint but better safe then sorry), and Anorexia

These are mainly all my OC’s

These two are ENBY beans and I LOVE them <3

they are also both Acesexual and Ken is aromantic as well :)

E. Is meant to be intersex but I wasn’t 100% sure exactly how to show that, but I tried, just making a note

Charri is ace lesbian and she is insane but we love her

I love these girlies, they’re all lesbians, specially tragic lesbians. Also, just as a note in case anyone cares, Vex is trans! 🏳️‍⚧️🥳 also aro-ace :)

Max is a trans masc and Wendy is a trans fem. They are in fact besties

(Wendy is also on the aromatic spectrum)

Alex is my child and I love the little poor bean, he’s the one with the self harm scars and anorexia. I know he’s fictional but I love him and would die for them.

ALSO MAX AND ALEX ARE BOYFRIENDS!!! :)))

[withacapitalp]

Rexie

I'm gonna toss this one under a readmore just to be safe bc I jump right into a heavy topic TW: Eating disorders TW: Disordered eating TW: anorexia

Steve knew what an eating disorder was. 

It was something girls had. Specific kinds of girls. It was the pencil thin girls that Carol used to look at and smirk about.

‘Looks like Rexie got another one’ she used to sneer whenever she saw a cheerleader bring in a salad for lunch, or watched as another one of their friends skipped going to the cafeteria altogether. Steve tried to get her to stop saying that, it didn’t seem all that nice, but Carol told him he would never get it. Rexie never came for boys after all. 

So Steve knew he didn’t have an eating disorder. 

He just…didn’t like to eat sometimes. 

It wasn’t that he couldn’t force himself. He could have if he wanted to. There was nothing stopping him from eating, he just didn’t want to. Simple as that. There were just certain days where every food he saw looked completely disgusting, and the thought of eating a cookie made him want to vomit. 

The feeling always came on suddenly. Sometimes he would get through making an entire meal only to have to throw it away as soon as it was done because the sight of the full plate made him queasy. 

But it wasn’t a problem. Hell, there were moments where it even seemed like it was a good thing. Where other guys on the team would get out of control and order five burgers after practice, eventually getting fat and losing their spot on the team, Steve would have a lemon water and stay in perfect shape. His teammates always asked him what his ‘secret’ was, and Steve would always have to say he didn’t have one. 

Because it wasn’t really a secret. Steve had never tried to hide that he stopped eating sometimes. No one was ever home to see the trash can get full when it shouldn’t be, and if Steve skipped actually grabbing a tray at lunch, no one batted an eye. 

Rexie never came for boys after all. 

[baratiddyappreciator]

Hey, can I ask you for headcanons from the s/o in which it is the Reader, who has an eating disorder (specifically anorexia).

Thenk you!

I hope everything is spelled correctly, I'm average in English.

Your spelling is fine! I can get this one written out no problemo! I feel it important to mention that if you're struggling with anorexia to seek help. You're not alone, and it's better to have you in this world, no matter how hard things may be. TW for eating disorders, continued under the cut.

Baki:

He worries about you all the time. He notices when you're looking more tired or pale than usual, he knows you're already a light person, but he notices right away when you feel lighter. It's not just that he's getting stronger, but you're losing weight, and he's not going to let that slide.

He will absolutely try to get you to eat more, he doesn't want to watch you wither away in front of him. He loves you, and while he knows you're going through it when you do eat, he does hold your hand and encourage you.

He knows what it's like to wake up that thin, to have your bones hurt because you haven't eaten enough, though his was for a different reason, he still knows who to call. Retsu's cooking has straight up healing powers, and they're both going to make sure you finish a meal.

He gives you a lot of "safe" foods to snack on during the day. Crackers, granola bars, all that stuff. He wants to make sure that you're eating something over the course of the day, though he would prefer it to be a proper meal.

Hanayama:

That's not going to fly with him. You need help, and he's going to get it for you. He'll drag you to the hospital and get you a doctor that can help you start to recover. He wants you to be well.

He has stashes of your safe foods around the house and he expects you to at least have some throughout the day, if not a proper meal. He hires some of the best cooks so that you get to eat the best foods, and while you may not like it, the food is delicious.

If he finds out that you haven't eaten, he's going to hand you a snack and watch you eat it. He'll hold you the entire time, make sure you feel safe, but you're not going to be able to get away with not eating around him.

Seeing you so thin and sickly looking reminds him of how his mother looked before she passed, and he really doesn't want to lose someone else, especially if they're shriveling away.

Chiharu:

He doesn't really get why you're struggling with an ED, you'd be beautiful to him regardless of what you looked like and food tastes good, but regardless of that he is there for you. He hypes you up at every meal because he knows it's hard for you, but you've gotta do it.

You want safe snacks? The entire house has safe snacks and foods all around in little cubbies and baggies. He's even added hangers around the house in visible spaces so you can see your safe snack and a baggie of little love notes he wrote for you.

You don't want to eat because you think it'll be too many calories? He'll get two servings of the thing you think looks tastiest and he'll let you pick at his food, he'll encourage you to do so. He'll take the calories for you, as long as you're eating, he's happy.

If you start losing more weight he'll pull you aside and admit how scared he is of losing you because of it, he'll even get down on his hands and knees and beg you to eat something. He'll be strong for you, but he'd like you to be strong for him too.

Katsumi:

He's got resources to get you help, be it a psychologist or a doctor. He wants to help you get better, because he doesn't want you to feel sick, unwell or unworthy. He loves you with every fiber of his being.

He's got safe snacks in the kitchen, but not an overabundant amount because he's not wanting to pressure you into eating too much, but they're there and he only checks to see if he needs to grab some more.

He does buy a lot of fruit and vegetables for you, and will, at random, walk up to you with a fruit bowl or a veggie platter so you can both have a healthy snack. He'd rather you have something small than nothing at all.

Big meals are scary, he knows that, but he needs you to try, for him and for yourself. He doesn't expect you to finish the plate entirely, he knows that that's not always reasonable, but he does ask that you at least have a few bites of each thing on the plate.

Jack:

He himself was had an ED when he was younger. He wouldn't eat a lot and would train himself to the point of passing out, so he understands your situation better than anyone here. That being said, he's going to help you get better no matter what.

Be it safe snacks in the places you frequent the most, as well as some less safe snacks in the kitchen, or if it's packing a bit of food onto a large plate to make it seem like there's only a little bit, he's doing his best to help you slowly get back to full health.

He knows you won't always finish a plate, but he won't eat until you have three bites. That's when he knows that you're actually eating, and he'll start on his own food, which he deliberately packs thick on a smaller plate so it looks like he's eating a lot (which he is).

There's some point where he notices you getting a bit thinner and more tired, and he'll come lay with you in bed and be incredibly vulnerable with you. He promises that he'll hold you accountable if you help keep him accountable.

Kosho:

He goes to his big brother for help, first and foremost. He knows you were unwell, but he didn't know that you had an ED, and he's not afraid to admit that while he doesn't know how to handle it, Kureha might. He'll help you, he promises.

He doesn't really know about safe snacks, but he'll have snacks available to you. Fruits, granola bars, cheese, meats, all of it, he's got them packed in little containers that you can take and nibble on.

He knows that meals might be hard, but he tries his best to get you to eat something. Also, his bathroom scale mysteriously goes missing. Did he throw it away or simply hide it, he'll never tell you.

If he notices that you've been having a rough time, he'll take you out on a walk, holding your hand and taking you somewhere quiet. He wants you to see how much he values you being around, and he wants you to know that all of these views he's showing you would be much more dull without you there.

Kureha:

He figures it out pretty early on, and while he's willing to wait for you to tell him, if he notices that you're getting worse or deteriorating, he will get you help. There's no ifs, ands or buts about it, if he feels like you need it, he'll even get you under a hold if he feels it's necessary.

He gets you a treatment plan, and he helps you stick you it religiously. You're not skipping any meals, and they start small, working up to full ones as you recover.

The only weigh-ins are the ones you get when going in to the doctors for a check-up, he doesn't want you to worry about your weight, he just wants you to focus on recovering. If possible, he doesn't let you hear what the results are, but he does encourage you.

Lots of silent staring at you. He's not disappointed or anything, he's just watching you, making sure that you're really still there with him. He'll be a lot sweeter, kissing you on the forehead at random. He wants you to feel loved.

Retsu:

Blind panic. Is his food not good enough? Did someone say something to you? How long has this been happening? How didn't he notice sooner? He's in a panic and just winds up hugging you so tight you can't breathe.

He wants to help you, so he sits you down and has you go through a list of safe foods that you're willing to eat. He'll make them for you, snacks, meals, all of them, but he wants you to get the minimum caloric intake every day, and he wants that to be done with your preferred meals.

He knows that there are good and bad days, he wants you to know that he's there for you regardless, but on bad days, he helps you have smaller, lighter meals so it doesn't feel like you're eating as much while still getting the needed calories.

He can't sleep unless he's holding you. He needs to know that you're safe and still with him, and he won't let go until the sun rises.

Doppo:

You mention it and he sits you down to talk about treatments. Therapy, being hospitalized, all of that, he talks to you about what you're willing to do. He's thankful you told him that you're struggling.

He'll try his best to help you. Once there's a treatment plan in place, he's shockingly good at following it. Not for himself, mind, he's terrible when it comes to himself, but for you? It's like a new religion.

Snacks? Of course! Just come with him to a store and pick out ones that you like, but he'll get you some that he likes too so you have some variation. Much like Retsu, he wants you to get the minimum caloric intake at least, so if your snacks aren't enough, you can have his. Meals are taken care of too, don't worry about those. He'll help you math it out so that you can have the minimum while feeling comfortable.

He tells you that you're beautiful all the time, at random. He'll just look over at you with a love-filled look, smile and tell you that he loves you, that you're beautiful. He'll then drag you into his lap to hold you for a minute.

[moonogre]

It’s so crazy how sometimes I’ll eat and be like “damn it’s like you’ve been in a three year long binge” and I’m like no girl you’re just in remission from active anorexia like CALM DOWN

Need to go back to therapy… 🤦🏿‍♀️

[merryslilhobbit]

as much as i adore 2022 dando content it just breaks my heart seeing how unhealthy daniel was at the time :( the difference between then and now is absolutely insane

This is so true. And the thing is, we didn't see it at the time. It's only with hindsight and seeing how healthy he looks now, that we realise where he was at. It's not always that noticeable in 2022, but the pictures of him dancing with Lando (how is that a sentence I get to say btw?!), for me, make it really stand out.

I have a very good friend that I've known for over 20 years and the situation reminds me of her. When we were teenagers, she was super skinny. To me, that's the way she always was. It wasn't until we were in our 20s or 30s that I discovered she was anorexic. Looking back at old photos, I've no idea how I didn't see it. Apologies for going a little sideways on this, but I haven't mentioned it before.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Light on the Darkside - Chapter Eleven.

Remember darlings, it's double update today, so if you see this chapter first, remember you have chapter ten to read prior! :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added/removed.

Words - 3,647

Warnings - 18+ throughout. Topics cover depression, suicide and eating disorders. Minors DNI!

If cloud nine existed, James was sat right upon it, standing with his arm around his girl while talking and drinking with her friends and sister, unable to keep from turning to gaze at her fondly. There she was, at last, right by his side. She looked amazing for the extra weight she’d gained, his eyes picking out the obvious, of course. Boobs. His hand moved to rest on the other.  

“Just so you know, I’m not gonna be able to keep my hands off this, innit,” he began, squeezing her bum firmly. “You’ve got an arse, Ells bells! I’m so fucking proud of you. And horny, because you looking fucking top grade sexy!”  

He leaned to nibble her neck, making her giggle, Ella turning to softly thump his chest before looking up at him. “Calm down!”  

“Nah.” They happily fell into another kiss then, enjoying it for a few moments before he pulled away, grabbing her hand. “Come with me a minute.” 

Placing their drinks down on the bar, he then led her in the direction of the doors, nodding at the bouncer on the way out into the still warm early October night, moving to the side of the club away from the noise of the music. There, he wrapped his arms around her again, humming happily before giving her another kiss.  

“So, why didn’t you call me?” 

Ahh. She might have known she’d have that coming. “Truth?” 

“Always, babe.” 

Hiding her face against his chest for a second, she took a deep breath. “I was nervous!” 

His facial expression was an absolute picture. “You fucking what?” 

“You heard!” she laughed, shaking her head.  

“But it’s me!” he continued loudly, curling his lip and having her in soft hysterics.  

“I’m aware it sounds ridiculous now, but I was. I had all these silly thoughts, like wondering if you might have gotten out and gone off me, or met someone else.” His eye roll was immense. “Needless to say, I’m not anymore!” 

“You shitting well better not be, darlin’!” He then looked her up and down again, mouth spreading into a wide grin. “Seriously, you look so fucking gorgeous.” 

Beaming, she wrapped her arms around his neck, fingers weaving into his beautiful hair. “Looking pretty mint yourself, BFG.”  

They stayed out the front talking a little more and kissing for a few minutes, James taking her hand again, leading her back inside to introduce her to his band. The rest of Nocturnal Descent were occupying one of the big tables outside in the spacious beer garden, Ella finally able to put faces to all the names of the men she’d heard so much about.  

“Nah, honey,” Steve began upon giving her a meeting hug, “what’s someone as cute as you doing with Kingston here? Fucks sake, you need to upgrade. Get yourself a man who doesn’t fart so bad, you feel like you’re in the gas chamber. Or one who’s got a decent sized cock instead of a worm.”  

She couldn’t help but laugh. Mainly because she knew the former to be true, and the latter she’d bet, from what she’d tentatively felt pressing against her a few times, was very much false. 

James arched an eyebrow. “Well, that ain’t you on either count, is it, fucking flatulent, pin-dicked twat.”  

To his credit, Steve guffawed, gripping James’s shoulder before making as if he was about to punch him in the balls. “Ya dickead,” he growled, turning his attention to Ella. “So, Ella. What do I have to do to get Andrea’s phone number?” 

“Ask her yourself when she comes to stay with me. However, if you’re only like, out for the ‘I shagged a sex addict’ trophy then she’ll let you down, mate. It’s sleeping around spontaneously that lead her into treatment. And that’s all I’m saying. Save her privacy.”  

How very Ella, James thought proudly, snort laughing when Steve pouted. 

“Alright, what about the honey with the massive tits over yonder taking to your sis?” 

“And he calls me a tart,” Janes snorted, sipping his pint. 

“Single,” she confirmed, giggling at the speed he moved down to the next table with. Turning back to James, she leaned to kiss his cheek. “You having a good night?” 

“I am,” he revealed, “but I don’t wanna stay much longer. Just wanna spend some time with you. If you like, you can come stay at mine?” 

Oh yes. She liked.  

They left at midnight, Ella feeling a little buzz, James not so much other than the one he had from walking back up the high street towards home hand in hand with her. 

“So, what was it like at the place you were transferred to? And how long since you came out?” she asked, lighting a cigarette and offering him one he took with thanks. 

“Little, I am fucking telling you, worlds apart from Moor Acres. My therapist is top grade amazing, such a fucking sound guy. First session I had with him was the day I arrived. We just sat and chilled, talking about music and drinking tea for the first half hour. In those thirty fucking minutes, he figured out more about me than Dr. Beaumont did in five and a half months, innit. As for how long I’ve been out, just over two weeks. How about you?” 

“Eleven days, and I’m so thrilled for you, that your last month of being in an institution was so positive: it was one of the things I worried about, after you’d gone. You might have been sent to a bleedin’ shithole of a place and not made progress, and without me there to help you. For whatever that was worth.” 

He stopped then, moving into her path, touching his fingers beneath her chin to lift it gently. “It was fucking worth everything, babe. Everything. That was the only thing that was hard, being away from you. Not having you there to unload everything that was in my head, or just sit and laugh with, forget about it all for a while.” He paused, dropping a kiss to her lips. “Nearly told ‘em to turn around about twenty fucking times along the way, I felt so bad for leaving you. Fucking broke me a bit, innit, doing it like that. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have left, though. I needed to, Ella, to get where I am now.”  

The way he’d done it truly had left her feeling completely broken for a time, but she saw it so clearly, how it radiated through him. He could cope with it, the noise in his head, those feelings of despair. Whoever the therapist was who he’d seen at the place he’d ended up, she could have kissed him. He’d definitely helped him much more than Dr. Beaumont.  

“I won’t lie, it was pants, being without you. I was half heartbroken, half bleedin’ livid with you, when I sat and read that letter,” she began. 

“Yeah, thought you would be,” he interjected with.  

“Sat and cried for an hour, blamed myself, had Andrea give me some really sound advice and like, state again what I knew but didn’t want to let myself believe. Then, I knew what I had to do. Get better, get released, and find you.” She beamed, holding her arms wide. “Here I am!” 

He threw his head back, his rumbling laugh sounding like music to her. “Yeah, little. Here you fucking are. I swear, seeing you in the crowd, best surprise ever. I was just like ‘what the fucking fuck? She’s here! Shitting hell, she’s right fucking there!’ when I saw you. Couldn’t believe it.”  

They continued to walk at a leisurely place, James telling her a few stories he’d amassed from his month in Birmingham, Ella sharing a few of her own. 

“He was moved the week I was let out, big Keith. Sent to Broadmoor, so I heard. Went absolutely psycho and almost killed another patient, so they had no choice. I saw the blood all down the stairs, it was fucking brutal,” she spoke, James’s eyes widening, although he wasn’t all too surprised. He’d quietly wondered during his own time there, just how many chances of rehabilitation they would give to the twenty-eight stone, six feet seven behemoth of fury that was big Keith.  

“That don’t really surprise me. He used to sit up all night, howling like a fucking wolf unless they shot him up with tranqs. Wouldn’t take his meds half the time, attacked the staff daily. Way worse than how I was,” he spoke, a scent of familiarity drifting under his nose. “You hungry, by the way? We’re getting near to Prezzo, and they actually do proper pizza in there, none of that carboard tasting shit. If that’s too scary, they do salad and all that, too.” 

Hmmm, she could eat, she supposed. It had been seven hours since her small plate of pasta for dinner. “Yeah, alright then. Let me get it, though. You bought me enough drinks already tonight.” 

“Nope, he spoke, steering her over to the other side of the high street when the traffic broke. “I’ve got music money burning a hole in my wallet. Apparently, while I was away the record took off hugely in Japan. I have a few more zero’s than I’m used to on the ole’ bank balance.” One stop at Prezzo, a small back and forth over Ella’s request for ham and pineapple – and James’s deep distain over such – and a pizza constructed with half that and half tandoori chicken was purchased, the pair on the move again once more.  

“Oh, shit! That building is amazing, I love it!” she spoke as the old factory housing James and Steve’s flat came into view, Ella wondering why the hell he’d referred to something with so much character as a shithole. It really wasn’t, not even when they got inside and climbed the stairs up to the second floor.  

The old brickwork gave it character, the original windows too, James taking his keys from the thick wallet chain he wore and unlocking the door of number six when they arrived there.  

“Bathroom is that door there,” he spoke upon entering, pointing to his right after switching on the light, a light that flickered for a few seconds before the bulb popped. “Ahh, shit! Fuck, don’t think we’ve got any more bulbs. Hang on.” He strode for the kitchen area, lighting a candle on his way and using it to illuminate the cupboard under the sink, Ella just about able to see the sofa through the gloom, placing the pizza box down on the coffee table and taking a seat.  

“Any luck?” 

“Nah, I’ll have to go get some tomorrow. Fucks sake. Don’t matter though, we’ve got about a billion fucking candles, innit.” He went about lighting them, the space nicely illuminated, moving next to the stereo in the corner and taking a CD from one of the shelves that ran the length of the wall. Thier music collection was staggering.  

“What’s this that you’ve put on? It’s very atmospheric,” she spoke, James shrugging his leather jacket off and hanging it on the corner of the armchair, kicking his boots off and joining her on the sofa.  

“This is that guy Varg Vikernes we talked about a while back, you know, the actual church burner,” he replied, opening the pizza box and taking a slice out.  

“Hold on, I might be able to impress you here. I think I know what his project is called, Jane loves it. What is it now,” she began, clicking her fingers and winding her hand around as she tried to remember. “Burdum? Bursim?” 

“Close,” he spoke, taking another bite. “Burzum, but ten points for trying, little.” 

“Thanks!” she chirped on a laugh, reaching for a slice, watching him crinkle his nose up. “What? I like pineapple on a pizza. It’s mint. Get over it.” 

His reply dripped sarcasm. “I’m sure Italians the world over would agree.”  

“Oh, don’t be concerned if I like, only have one or two slices. This is a big pizza and this is a lot for me to eat in one sitting,” she spoke, tucking her chin a little before taking a small bite. 

“Nah, I ain’t gonna monitor you. It’s a scary food, too. Dough, cheese.”  

It touched her greatly, that he remembered all of this. “Yeah. Like, it’s less scary now, but I keep reminding myself what Dr. Beaumont told me. Every meal I manage to eat is an accomplishment, an extra mile on my health journey. It helps. I finally had a breakthrough with it when I’d almost reached my target weight. Mary told me to stand in my undies and look at myself, then showed me a picture of how I looked when I was first admitted.”  

“I bet it was shocking, right?” James asked, starting on his second slice. God, he was starving.  

Reaching for her bag, she pulled out her wallet, taking from it the folded-up picture she kept with her always to remind her how far she’d come. “Here, see for yourself.” 

Taking it, he looked down, dropping the pizza slice back into the box and covering his mouth with his hand. “Shitting hell.” To say she looked like death was an understatement. And he’d thought she’d been scarily thin at just over a stone heavier when he’d first met her. “Ella... fuck. Seeing you like that makes me wanna fucking cry, innit, and I don’t cry easy. That’s twice with you now, fucking dickhead.”  

Taking the picture back, she leaned to kiss his cheek, stroking his hair. “When was the first time?” 

“When they were driving me away from Moor Acres.” He looked very uncomfortable at revealing that, frowning, side eyeing her. “Knob.” 

The snort of laughter that came from her was huge, tucking her wallet away again as she giggled. “My grumpy church burner.”  

“To use one of your favourite expressions, shut your hole,” he retorted, only succeeding in making her laugh more. Oh, how she’d missed him. Even when he was pissed off at her. He didn’t stay that way for long, though, nudging her with a soft elbow and turning his head to kiss her shoulder. “Still think you’re awesome.” 

After eating three slices of his half of the pizza, Ella managing one and a little bit, he rolled them a joint, stretching out on the sofa with his head in her lap. The feel of her nails combing over his scalp and through his hair was a comfort he’d sorely missed over the last seven weeks, reaching to stroke the side of her neck as he smiled up at her.  

“It’s just me and you. No other patients, no orderlies or nurses watching us like fucking hawks. Just us.” 

How they had both longed for it, the simplicity of being together without watchful eyes constantly on them. Still, Ella almost felt like Tony was about to bark an order at her as she slipped a hand beneath James’s t shirt, idly stroking the side of his abs while they chatted.  

“I’m telling you, I lasted an hour when I went see her and my sister for the first time. She’s still coming out with all the same crap, that I’ve somehow brought my mental illness on myself. I just stood up, told her I’d had enough, and took Sam out for a drink instead so I could catch up with her without being fucking hen pecked to bloody death,” he explained of his first visit home after being released, glowering at the memory of his mother being, well, her usual difficult self.  

“You know what it sounds like to me?”  

“What?” he asked, handing her the joint. 

She was thoughtful for a moment before waving her hand dismissively. “No, it’s probably not my place to say.” 

He prompted her again. “It is. Spill.” 

“I think she’s deflecting, like, going in really hard with saying it’s because of your music and lifestyle to absolve herself from her own part in your issues.” 

Michael had said very similar. “Nah, you’re totally right, darlin’. It’s exactly what she does, it's like, if she makes enough noise about the other person, she thinks people won’t notice her, what she says and does.” 

“And that’s up to her to acknowledge,” she sighed, passing the joint back, her hand retuning to his hair.  

“Innit? I know she loves both me and my sister to bits, but I’m not excusing her any longer, or putting up with it. Me leaving the other night was what Michael advised in therapy. Set a boundary, then if she continues to cross it, calmly walk away. So that’s what I did. Anyway, I don’t wanna talk about the duchess. What you been up to since you got out?” 

“Not much, really. Just spending time with mum and Jane, went back to my yoga class for the first time since I got really ill, had a tentative job hunt.” 

“Any luck there?” 

“Nope,” she asserted, widening her eyes a fraction. “Not unless I want to work in the same old utterly pants job roles I used to. Never going back to bar or supermarket work again.” It would be fair to coin the pair as intelligent underachievers, both only having three and four GCSE’s respectively, only James going on to do his A levels. Ella had taken the GNVQ route, choosing health and social care although she wasn’t sure she wanted to work in either.  

He hadn’t sought anything further academically, taking on mainly factory and doorman work around the band until they’d taken off, his touring schedule making it impossible to hold down a full-time job.  

“Yeah, babe. Don’t blame you. I’ve done bar work before. Total bullshit. Ruins your weekend too as that’s when you get the best shifts as far as tips go,” he agreed, taking another drag on the joint. “I can’t smoke much more of that. I’m proper fucking tired.” 

She frowned concernedly. “Is that because you’re drinking on your meds?” 

“Nah, Michael took me off the ones that made me wanna crash in the afternoon, and I only had three pints tonight. Can’t get drunk or it’ll stop the pills from working. Trust me, I’ll miss getting wankered, but I don’t miss that fucking mess my head was in before I got help.” 

Smiling down at him, she kissed his forehead, taking the joint from him. “I’m proud of you. You’ve worked hard to get through what must have been a hugely heavy weight bearing down on you,” she began, trying to stifle a yawn and not manage it. “Bleedin’ hell, are there crushed up sleeping pills in this weed?”  

“Fucking feels like it, innit?” he laughed. “I didn’t feel this mashed so quickly last night. What I bought off Gaz must be different strains. I’m irritated by that.”  

“Why?” 

“Because my brain is saying sleep, but everything south of my waist is like, ‘Nah, man. You’ve got a top grade girl here, the one you’ve been missing for weeks! Go shag her through the bed!”  

She almost choked on the lungful of smoke, wheezing, softly slapping his shoulder as she spluttered. “I don’t mind not being shagged through the bed tonight, so don’t feel like, all conflicted and stuff.”  

Internally, he breathed a sigh of relief. It could go either way with weed, depending on the type. Just enough and he could have sex for elongated periods before orgasm, too much and as soon as his body hit a bed, he was asleep. It was a balance he couldn’t bank on prior to smoking, but suffice to say the one joint of very strong weed he and Ella had shared most definitely took the wind out of his sails.  

Sitting up, he grabbed a marker pen and shut the pizza box, writing ‘DO NOT EAT’ upon it. “Snedders’ll inhale it otherwise, the lardy cunt.” They made their way to his room, the space much bigger than she was expecting, pulling off her clothes all bar her knickers and top, unhooking her bra beneath it and pulling that off for comfort.  

He made no mention of her leaving it on, remembering her insecurity there. It didn’t matter to him one bit; she could have laid next to him fully clothed and he wouldn’t have cared. Having her beside him was all he wanted. Climbing beneath the deep grey duvet, she happily sank into his arms, enjoying both the look and feel of that gorgeous chest against her bare for the first time. He looked more or less exactly how she pictured he would, and lord, it was a mouthwatering sight.  

“Wow, you were right. This bed is like, the comfiest ever,” she spoke, leaning to kiss him beneath his jaw as they entwined, James resting his hand to her hip and stroking the slender curve. God, it felt so good to hold her and not feel bones jutting out.  

“Told you,” he spoke, kissing her head. “Even comfier for having you in it, too.” 

Her heart thrummed waves of pure happiness, falling into sweet kisses with him before he switched off the lamp and they fell asleep. He was out before her, Ella seeing it was entirely true when he’d told her he was like sleeping next to a corpse, except he ran hot. He didn’t move and he didn’t snore.  

It made a peaceful change to the last man she’d shared a bed with, her ex-boyfriend Ryan over two years before. He’d sounded like malfunctioning power tools whilst he’d slept. She was asleep before she knew it, both of them soothed not only from the strong weed, but what they’d ached for over the past seven weeks. The simplicity of being able to hold each other close once again. 

[flapajacker]

(TW: mentions of anorexia/eating disorders,possible spoilers for the movie)

My Donnie headcannons! Just general silly billy headcannons, nothing special

-Donnie is Bi an uses He/They/It pronouns

-Hates needles, spiders, beach balls, and bees

-Has an iron stomach. My man can eat literal dog shit and be completely fine

-Biter, definitely bit people as a kid (has the sharpest teeth out of his bros)

-Kuromi fan

-Had an eating disorder after the events of the movie (Anorexia)

-Will stay up for three days straight before sleeping for like 17 hours (rinse and repeat)

-Iced tea/ boba enjoyer (specifically peach iced tea)

-Wears contacts in battle, uses glasses for casual wear (I haven’t decided big nerd glasses or thin round glasses)

-Wags his tail as a happy stim (other stims include hand flapping, rocking back and forth, saying scoff, cracking knuckles,etc)

-Either has a million blankets or one big weighted blanket

-after the events of the movie, my man’s sensory issues get turned to 11. He also gets overwhelmed/ overstimulated more quickly

-Flexible af. Does yoga classes for funsies (and to show off)

[fromsupernaturaltof1]

You have no idea what you’re talking about with Michael. Like, he can’t force food down someone’s throat or control how their body reacts to stress. And do you think he was the only person responsible for what Daniel eats and his health at the team? Trainers are one cog in the machine, and this narrative that he starved Daniel is based on absolute nonsense and ignores how things actually work in reality.

if you paid attention to anything Michael posts on his insta, his meal plans or whatever, it's evident that it's not sustainable

he's not a certified nutritionist but he somehow still pretends to be one and was actively in charge of daniel's daily meals

making sure Daniel ate healthy has nothing to do with "forcing food down someone's throat". there's meals that provide more nutrition in small amounts (I've dealt with anorexia, I know how this works)

it's ABOUT nutritious food so that even if you eat less, you don't lose nutrition, good cholesterol, etc

aside from being incompetent in his job I also have an issue with him leaking news (aka he told Tom Clarkson about his fracture before it was public knowledge)

you're fine to be on no man's land but from what I've seen, I have picked a side and I'll stick to it until Daniel himself says Michael is not to blame

[undertale-writing-times]

How would Horror!Sans, Swap!Sans, Killer!Sans, Classic!Sans, and Dream!Sans react or help out their best friend who’s suffering from anorexia (best friend starves themselves to get rid of or stop getting weight)

You don’t have to write or do anything with this ask! Just currently suffering from anorexia and imagining the sanses trying to help or take care of me is nice + curiosity I suppose.

Normally, I wouldn't do something like this, but I hope you get better :) and I hope that I do well at this. I had to read up on a few things but, you know, I think I'm doing alright? Hopefully lol.

Axe: He would be the type to make you food, and then show you a list of what is in it and how much it would fill you. He gives pros and cons of eating it; all while sneakily hinting for you to eat it. He doesn't really understand why you would stop eating, even if you were chunky! Chunky is good! Chunky is healthy! He wouldn't even care if you eat just a small amount a day, just wants you to eat. Seeing you skipping over meals is... really upsetting for him. After what he's been through, he really can't see why anyone would stop eating even if they have food unless they have to.

Blueberry: He makes a special timer and list for each time that you should eat. He reminds you, gently, at that time that you should eat something. Most of the time small things but still things! He doesn't quite understand, but he's trying his best to help you out. He won't ask you too much, more or less just says time to eat, you two sit down, and eat together. He'll talk a lot to distract you so hopefully you'll eat without even noticing that you're eating stuff.

Dream: He hates to do it, but sometimes he would give you a boost of positive energy whenever you eat anything, as a way to secretly try to get you to eat more. He knows that it might not be the best idea, but it works. Slowly he would stop doing that and really work with you but that was just at the beginning. He would question you why you feel the need to do something like that, and if you have a good reason, he'll listen then remind you that you're human, and humans need to eat stuff. Food is, sadly, a very needed thing.

Killer: Honestly, I can't see him being much help ^^' sorry.

Classic: He would try to make some light jokes about it. He doesn't want you to think that what you're going through is something that you shouldn't talk about. He would listen to you talk, give a few ideas, then ask what he could do to help? If you don't know, he'll just start to bring you little snacks and things like that. Nothing too big, but something helpful.