#weight release

[cinader]

Happily Ever After

We can never have a happy ending at the end of an unhappy journey, it just doesn’t work out that way. The way we’re feeling along the way is the way we’re attracting into our lives, and the way things will continue to feel. I have blogged about this topic before: Happiness is a ChoicePractice Happiness DailyHappy on the Way Let’s take the journey of weight release as an example. If we restrict…

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

I’m officially down over 100lbs since January 🎉

I still got a way to go before I’m truly satisfied but it feels great nonetheless!

[creme-boylee]

Ok listen i know im literally so late 2 the party but 2 b fair October is BUSY but i had 2 do SOMEthing for kinktober

Day 4: 🔗 Leashed

Uh oh! Looks like u overfed your puppy! He's starting to look a bit round. But he just looks so cute sitting on the floor next to your dining chair begging for scraps!

How can you resist feeding him everything on your plate?

...And maybe just a few more treats for being such a good boy?

Even when his chubby belly sits heavy on his thighs and he whimpers with the weight of it, he'll still beg for more...

[lovesickeros]

☆ de fontaine

{☆} characters furina {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings angst, suicidal thoughts, hurt / no comfort {☆} word count 1.4k

This wasn't fair. This wasn't fair. This wasn't fair!

She thought, for one moment, she could put the mask down and breathe – for one moment of daydreaming, she thought she could just be Furina. She thought she would finally get to live the live she should've had in the first place, the life she threw away to play God to an audience who saw her as nothing but a circus animal, dancing to their whims. Furina just wanted to be selfish for one brief and fleeting moment..and it was gone before she could even grasp it in her hand. A comet soaring past far out of her reach.

She can barely keep her hands from violently shaking as she looks down at them – broken and bloody and more a corpse then a person – and she feels so numb she can't even feel the rain pelting against her back. None of this is fair, she wants to scream, why is it always me? But her voice is silent beneath the torrent of rain. She wonders if the ocean would take her if she sank into it's depths – just for a moment, she wonders how it would feel to finally be able to sleep at ease.

Furina is tired.

But Furina is nothing if not useful, isn't she?

So she forces her feet to move, dragging against the stone beneath her heels, and drags their bloodied body into the nearest empty building, letting the rain do the work of washing away the smeared blood following her path. The smell makes her feel sick, the feeling of it sticking to her hands and gloves makes her lightheaded, but she persists. Because Furina is useful, because Furina won't let them die out in the rain, because Furina won't stand by and just let them rot on the streets like some..pest.

Furina wants to go home. She wants to sleep and she isn't she if she wants to wake up, this time. But she keeps going anyway.

Because it's all she's ever done, and the habit sticks.

An Archon she may not be, not anymore, but the expectations of five hundred years still linger like eyes on the inside of her skull. They watch her, pry and prod at her thoughts, mocking laughter and judging eyes following her as she forces herself to dance to the song they weave with glee. Furina never stepped off that stage – she's still there, she thinks, watching the crowd stare at her in disdain as the curtain call looms above her like a guillotine. She still hears Neuvillette deliver her damnation and salvation with a trembling voice, still feels her hair stand on end when electro crackled like the crack of the whip, Clorinde's blade aimed at her like a loaded gun.

She's trapped on that stage and she never left, not really.

She hates it. She thinks she hates them, but it's not their fault. They didn't ask for this, didn't ask for everyone to turn against them, didn't ask for her to save them. Neither did she..yet here they are, she thinks.

She tries to tell herself she's in control this time, though. She can stop performing her part in this horrible, bloody play any time she wants. It makes her feel better, just for a little while, if she convinces herself she's still Furina, painfully human.

And Furina has always been good at lying.

It's the believing that's the hard part.

There isn't time for her to wallow in her own self pity, though. They're still bleeding out onto the dusty, creaky floorboards of some random, broken down house and she's just standing there as the blood stains the wood. She can fix it – she's good at fixing things. She's done nothing but fix things – try to, anyway – for five hundred years. She can fix a little wound, how hard could it be? Her hands are clenched so tight they ache as she kneels down, wincing at the creak of the floorboards beneath her heels– she hesitates just long enough to wonder if she's making a mistake before she peels away just enough of the outer layer of their clothes to see the deep, bloody gash across their chest. She tries not to think about it – it's deep, too deep, and she feels dizzy just looking at it, but she's handled worse, right?

Furina can fix it. That's what she's good at.

She doesn't feel so confident when she tries to wrack her brain for..something. Five hundred years, and a little wound stumps her? No, she had to have learned something, right? She's decidedly not trying to buy time because she's panicking, parsing through hundreds of years of memories like flipping through a book. Furina isn't made for this, not really – she's running on nothing but adrenaline and she's really not sure what she's doing, but she's trying. And just like before, it won't be enough, will it?

She'll fall short again – she'll be too late to fix it before she's alone again.

Furina was an Archon..used to be. What use would she have for that sort of knowledge? Which makes her predicament all the more harrowing and bleak. What was she supposed to do?

Furina had heard it first hand, that vitriol in Neuvillette's voice. She isn't sure she's ever heard him that..angry before. She's not sure he would listen to her if she tried, either. And that scares her more then anything. All of Fontaine was up in arms about this..imposter, yet here she was, staring down at them bleeding out in front of her, and she was trying to save them.

Why? Why is she throwing away her only chance at normalcy for a fraud? Why didn't she just turn them in?

They were dying – that should've been a good thing, shouldn't it? So why didn't it feel like it?

"Why you?" Her voice breaks as she speaks in harsh tones, grabbing the front of their shirt in trembling, bloodied hands. "Why now?" She wants to scream, to demand answers they can't give, to claw back the reprieve she was promised after five hundred years of agony..and all she can do is sob into their chest, pleading for an answer that will not come. "Why me?"

Silence is their answer, and it hangs heavy on her trembling shoulders as she cries.

Of course they don't, she thinks bitterly, no one has ever answered her pleas spoken in hushed sobs. Not her other self and certainly not them.

Furina has always been alone. Furina will always be alone.

Because Furina never left that stage, never left that moment when she looked at herself in the mirror and took up a mantle too heavy for her to bear. She always finds her way back eventually. There's no one on the other side anymore – she stands alone on a stage, waiting for an inevitable end she isn't sure will come.

"Please," She pleads through tears and choked sobs, clinging to them like they are all that keeps her from sinking. "Please don't leave me, too." The words burn on her tongue – how pathetic is she that she craves companionship from the bloodied body of the imposter? Perhaps she's truly lost her mind after all these years..perhaps she's finally gone mad. She must have.

But their presence is like the first feeling of gentle warmth upon her skin as the sun crests the horizon, like the gentle lap of tides along her heels, the sway of branches and leaves as the wind blows through them like an instrument all it's own. They are the soothing sound of rain against the window as she watches the dreary skies in fond longing, the first bloom of spring as color blooms upon the landscape like paint had been spilled across the hills and valleys.

They are like the faint spark she carefully nurtures and stokes, so fragile even the smallest wind could blow it out like a candle. She cradles it within her palms, pleads with whoever will listen – prays that someone finally listens, because if not for her, then for them.

She's failed to protect too much already, let too many people with so much trust in her fall between the cracks of her fingers like grains of sand. She won't let them go – she can't.

If nothing else, if she couldn't be saved when she begged for salvation from that five hundred year long agony, even if she never got that chance..

Furina will make sure they do.

[milkbath69]

garys ass is never being found

[jerys]

thinking abt merlin through the ages contending with the fact that arthur is still so present in the land. in mythology in legend in fairytales told to children in books and films and countless other forms of memory. throughout the world he is remembered still, and yes it isn't really him they're remembering, it's the legend of him, the myth, the heroic fool's gold shimmer of his legacy. but he's still here.

[reksink]

A Little Survivor (With Grand Gourmand Bonus💚)

[i-like-media]

the Doctor Who movie is so goofy I love it

[verysmallcyborg]

MARS (BULKY) PORTS AHOY!

three (3!!!) treats for my fellow mars bulky users, in pirate / corsair-esque flavor - several ports of sneef's mashups

all are dyeable (DUAL DYES!!)

all are long glove compatible

Buccaneer

(Lighter) Drunken Sailor

Storm Admiral

enjoy :]

[itsnotmika]

spensa

[cinader]

Sugar-Free for FREE!

One of the things I am most passionate about right now is my Relief through Release Playgroup. I created an eight-week online playgroup to help women release the foods, thoughts, and behaviors that are making them sick and tired. What makes us sick and tired will be different for each person, but sugar and self-criticism deplete EVERY body, so we begin there. We release recreational sugar, and…

[jj-lives]

I don't understand who I need to... be. Because who I am right now, she's not cutting it.

What if you could be anyone?

It's all so... heavy. And it never, ever goes away. The feeling of not being... enough.

Can you feel the woman who might hold it? The weight of who she is?

Ruby spent her entire life trying to be like her mom, and feeling inadequate because she's not living up to Summer's memory. So maybe she needs to know the weight her mother carried with her to truly understand they are probably more similar than she thinks. Her mom isn't this unattainable standard. She was just a girl, like Ruby, with similar doubts and responsibilities.

Only then might Ruby really be able to step out of her mother's shadow and become who she was really meant to be.

[unsat-and-strange]

lyfrassir edda tried to cut their hair after the bifrost incident. hair and the meaning it holds had been a common thread in the multitude of cultures that comes with 9 inhabited worlds in one star system, and one thing that had been a given in nearly every single one was you don't wear braids when you're grieving. you don't wear rings or ribbons or gems, you don't wear any ornamentation. for a long time it was taboo to even pull it back in a ponytail except for the most strenuous of tasks. and you don't cut it unless you've lost it all. which, of course, they have. so they take a pair of scissors they found in a toolbox and cut the whole tangled mess of it off their head over the sink. it's ragged and uneven and they feel exposed without it, but if this is the only way left to honor their vanished world then so be it. or that's what they thought. that night as they wake from yet another nightmare that leaves them gasping at the brink of tears they feel that familiar weight spilling down their shoulders and back. they don't try again. they do try to forget about it, push it from their mind through sheer force of will but they can't explain it away. and they can't ignore the fact that the gray streaks in their still-long hair grow thicker by the day. and it looks less and less like true gray than a multitude of colors and shades dulled to a neutral tone by sheer numbers. they are changing and it won't let them cut their hair.

[tadpole-apocalypse]

I think…after I finish this round of commissions I will close them for a bit. Maybe a month. I had planned to do another batch after, because I hate saying no to people, but I need a break.

My personal wips are calling out to me and I have no time in my day or creative energy to give them attention 🥲 I have some more comic ideas and Morgan stories in my head I want to get done.

[age-of-moonknight]

“Incarnate,” Vengeance of the Moon Knight (Vol. 2/2024), #7.

Writer: Jed MacKay; Penciler and Inker: Alessandro Cappuccio; Colorist: Rachelle Rosenberg; Letterer: Cory Petit

[impossiblepluto]

Hello bonjour I reread Adversary + Antigen and ignoring the fact that I am now screaming in every possible way except physical (and, even though I knew what was coming this time, I still had a physiological stress response to your words (<- big big compliment)), I am also gnawing on my laptop thinking about McClain and Reese's reaction and response to seeing Mac.

I am just. I am thinking about how much do they know??? Has Yasmin radioed over and given them the scoop?? Does Yasmin even know what went on in the back there (😱)?????? Like despite (or maybe inspite of) the fact that Mac's got about a thousand different reactive molecules moving through his blood stream right now, he's still somewhat combative I imagine. Or at the very least, I'm sure there's a good chance that some of those drugs are going to wear off before everything is sorted out 😬

Anyway whilst thinking about this I inadvertently made a chart in my head and thought it would be funny to share with you:

pros of epi wearing off: less wired mac who can breath without his entire body vibrating and causing panic on top of panic

cons of epi wearing off: anaphylaxis comes back and says hi!!!! because it is annoyed it got pushed off of metaphorical center stage

pros of sedative wearing off: mac feels less betrayed, more in charge of his body with more autonomy

cons of sedative wearing off: PANIK

...I'm not sure what this ask is anymore at this point. I just need you to know that my brain is entirely occupied thinking about what the future has in store for Mac and I am wondering if there is any hints or thoughts that I can have to munch on in my brain <3

Bonjour friend (I cannot read that word without seeing the polar bears peeking their heads out of dens or into portholes memes, and I am delighted to realize that)

I am also delighted to hear that you reread Adversary + Antigen. I was completely spoiled by the comment you left on that fic and now I get another one + more Vi thoughts. Ah! Amazing. An embarrassment of riches.

Not sure if it's the worst thing I've done to Mac but it's the most in depth I've gone. I got a little tightness in my chest and throat while writing it.

Reese and McClain hearing about what happened to Mac, the panic attack, and getting to witness one of their own is a moment that I am anxiously awaiting to share (and finish writing) Originally, Mac was going to make it all the way to Phoenix Med, where he would again stubbornly insist that he was not laying down, not riding into the building on a gurney, and mostly unsuccessfully struggling through the halls with his entourage, before his facade completely broke. I was as shocked as Jack and Ed when Mac began fighting for his life in the back of the ambulance.

I think I might have to do Mac's attempted escape from someone else's POV. Yasmin does know some of what happened and has radioed ahead so McClain and Reese have an idea of what's coming through the doors. Also, everyone is putting the puzzle pieces together a little quicker and confirming what they suspected. And Jack is struggling for many reasons.

One of the things that has me stalled is getting Mac's headspace right- and portraying so it feels genuine. The epi, adrenaline, and emotions are still thrumming under his skin, but the sedative is making it feel strangely distant even though it's right there. The loss of safety, security, autonomy, he expects that from Murdoc but from his friends and the people he trusts, that betrayal feels like a sinking pit. If he expresses his needs who would listen? Even his anger feels muted, but will be making an appearance that I'm very excited about. Regulating his emotions and his responses are beyond his ability so he's oscillating between this betrayed, submissive compliance, seething anger, embarrassment about his outburst and shame that he allowed Murdoc to do this to him. Everything that anyone says or does feels so patronizing. There's a detached clinical part of him too, and while he wants to lean into that part, that's worse for everyone else watching.

I love your chart because it's all the same stuff going through my head. I'm trying to fit a little bit of everything in there. The half-life of epinephrine is very short (epi is just to stem the reaction and keep you alive long enough to get additional treatment) so he might start feeling the foreboding, prickly sensations growing again before this is over.

Thanks for the ask, friend! It has reawakened my excitement for this fic when I was starting to get too in my head about it! If there is something specific that you've been like "i hope she does This!" feel free to share because there are a lot of directions that I'm still trying to decide on