#even though i was in a very irritated and drained out state but today I'm feeling like if anyone even fucking attempts to talk to me

[featherymainffins]

Binge-reading Dungeon Meshi because it's the only thing standing between me and suicide ngl.

#it at least gave me the single molecule of mental energy required to force myself to eat at least one slice of bread #because it's like the physical energy is there sure but mentally I'm like 'noooooo I don't want to eat anything i hate food #all food tastes bad and i hate life and i want to eat nothing at all and furthermore i need to lose weight so i should starve myself' #I'm thinking that it might actually make me last until I either convince the crisis center that I'm for fucking real for real #or until my appointment with the school counselor. which idk when would be because i was supposed to go on the #2nd of April but i guess there might be holidays because he called me when i was atva lecture but i couldn't take it #because i had a lecture and he hasn't called since but I'm assuming #that hell call again and that he wants to let me know that the date is impossible #but I want to like wait and see what he says. and if he goes like 'oh actually im on a long vacay now goodbye forever' #or whatever I'll just go '...slay' and ride my ass to the hospital tomorrow. #show up at the crisis centre looking exactly like the patients with chronic pain who report pain 7 while looking unphased #like 'hello i am an active danger to myself I can't get out of bed most days; i need 16 hours of sleep to function for 4 hours #my meds have stopped working I haven't eaten anything but exactly 2 pancakes and a slice of bread in the past 4 days #and i exhibit a strong refusal to change this marked by thoughts present in people affected by eating disorders. no activity #feels fun anymore and they were marked by a strong sense of anxiety a few days ago but now i just feel nothing at all. #at this point I'm not even refusing to do any of my hobbies because im increasingly afraid of failure and its #consequences while being hunted for sport by anxiety from the opposite end telling me that i need to finish 50 masterpieces #immediately or nobody will ever like me again and they'll all see me for the talentless fraud i am. at this point i just don't care. #i don't do anything because i feel sluggish and my body is heavy and I'm so so tired and I'm tired of being awake and I can't think straight #also i think i might be going into a psychotic episode again.' #they're gonna tell me to get the fuck out of their faces anyway but it's worth a try. #like idk i feel like they might kinda listen because yesterday I guess they wouldn't have but today i have stopped caring about cars #and looking both ways. which is like. not a good sign probably. also yesterday i was still somewhat able to talk to people #even though i was in a very irritated and drained out state but today I'm feeling like if anyone even fucking attempts to talk to me #or if i hear any loud fucking sound at all I'm just gonna punch myself in the head until the pain drowns out all the sound

[thefisherqueen]

Notes while watching Granada's Sherlock Holmes: The elegible bachelor. They made a full movie out of this short story, I'm curious to see how the material has been expended upon

The beginning of this story was tough to watch. Good of Granada to touch upon the subject of the treatment of mentally unwell people, though. May we one day react to people in obvious grief and distress with compassion and offering them what they need to recover, not by subduing/restraining them or locking them up, as today still happens too often

"You wild and beautiful thing" "Not half as wild and beautiful as you" oooh smooth dude. She really is very beautiful and looks stunning in that smart riding costume! New discovery about myself: I have much more of a weakness for women in smart victorian clothing than in the prettiest of dresses. New sexuality unlocked: victorian women while they're on the move + Jeremy Brett, but only for staring at (for an uncomfortable amount of time)

To expand upon my previous point: especially staring at Jeremy Brett sprawled on the sofa in just his nightdress, which is all open at the neck and chest. Sir what are you doing to me

Not too sure about Holmes' dream. Did they choose to depict this case as a post-Reichenbach one and is that why it's all about the waterfall? I'm always in favour when media shows trauma symptoms, and think it very realistic that Holmes would have reoccuring nightmares about waterfalls after that experience, but it's a bit overdone I think. Could have made more impact if it had been a little more subtle. Loved his charcoal drawings of the dream, though, and also the 'hyperventilating via pipe". Seems like a thing Holmes would do

The old gossiping aunts are hilarious

So much screaming and fighting, was that really necessary Grananda? Holmes walking around through dark alleys in a bad mental health state is very valid, but this feels a little like I'm watching Sweeny Todd... not the greatest of association for Sherlock Holmes

"Come and use your whore, my lord. You'll never have anyone who'll do what you want like me" ehm, madam? *uncomfortably close-up of her mouth* oooh, this bachelor's former sweetheart is actually trying to murder him for daring to marry another? Exciting

Mrs. Hudson waiting in the corridor for Holmes is adorable. "I don't really sleep these days" oh no I want to hug him so badly. Watson where are you? Your intimate friend needs you

This seems like a really draining episode for Jeremy Brett to play! I want to look up if he ever commented on it

Love that Mrs. Hudson contacts Watson to say that Holmes is not doing well. "You should have called me earlier" "I didn't dare disobey him" lots of hugs for mrs. Hudson too

The emotion in Jeremy Brett's voice and face as he explains the nightmare *cries with him* Also love that they added the anger and irritation and unhinged stuff about missing Moriarty from the book. Mental health problems are not all pretty tears

The scene out on the street in the rain is unhinged, I love it

Ok, halfway through the movie and the real investigations have began. I'm quite faceblind and having trouble keeping the different ladies involved apart, and the men as well, so this will be fun to try to keep up with

*deep, silky voice* "That any man should be worthy of such love..." are you trying in seduce her, Holmes? I don't think it's working. She just wants her bottle and her lord

I knew you could walk dramatically down a stairs, never have seen one walking dramatically up it before

"It could not happen today, we have the lunacy act, you can't just put people away" "It can if you are a handsome duke" This is an interesting piece of dialog. Not quite saying all that's wrong in mental health care, but this episode is already digging deeper than most media does, especially because it also depicts Holmes - the protaganist - as having mental health problems. That already paints a much more even and sympathetic picture. It's easy to imagine Holmes, if he lived in less privileged circumstances and showed less acceptable symptoms and wouldn't have people who cared about him close, ending up in an asylum. And Watson is a doctor - not necessarily safe for someone like Holmes. Where the critique falls down is the 'innocent woman locked up, is not mad', which doesn't adress the abuse of those who are locked up and are 'mad'

"I live only half a life. Nothing seems to break the gray circle I live in" I bet that Holmes can relate to that statement. And Jeremy Brett choose to show that by standing very close to her, even at one time shortly touching her hand, which Holmes never does with strangers. That was a beautiful acting choice

"I walk the streets at night. I'm looking for danger. Sometimes I'm asking the world to hurt me, so I can feel alive" It's a shame Holmes is immediately back in investigation mode after those moving lines. It's like Holmes' bad mental health episode is treated like a mere plot device, the nightmare containing actual clues. I generally like when dreams are used as foreshadowing, but I think it works better when it's more obscure, something like 'dream gives idea for solution' or 'dream sets mood for something happening later'. This is a bit too straightforward and, like the 'creeping man' episode, the occurance of straight up predictive/telepathic dreaming feels out of place. Wrong genre

*Holmes is distracted by laundry mid-conversation* hehe very ADHD of him

"I cannot expect you to understand how much I envy you. The delight it must be to face an opponent of some worth" Very appropriate thing to say to a depressed woman who lost her sister and got disfigured herself, Holmes

"Trust me" "Not an inch, my lord" Haha, probably sensable

Oh no, he killed another wife. Mistress. Whatever. Loved that Granada made him full evil

VERY brave of the american girl to confront her 'husband', but oh, so scared for her now *few minutes later* don't agonise him further silly girl! You're being very brave, but also very stupid! Come on, Holmes and Watson, hurry!

Nice shot Watson :)

Ah, there's the second wife, still alive! And she - oh. Interesting. Did not have 'became feral witch and took revenge on her husband in the prison he locked her up in by a trap she made herself' on my bingo card

The ending when she crawled out of her prison... that was very wholesome, actually. Love that she was allowed to become 'ugly' and still be a hero, that's rare for female characters. Hope she and her sister will live on happily together. They can at least share their trauma

And it ends with a performance... wait, so miss Miller did survive? Good! And Watson and Holmes are watching it with the sisters, I presume? Gosh I'm so bad at faces. Guess it must be

A wild and dark episode for sure, overall a very interesting watch. Just a shame about the prophetic dreaming, that was a bit out of place and unnecessary

#sherlock holmes #granada holmes #the eligable bachelor #this has become long lol

[eleanorcooks]

The Early Dinner - Part 1

"This is early," he says, frowning a little as he enters the kitchen. I watch him briefly touch his stomach, perhaps feeling the after-work snacks it so recently checked in - two large fresh brownies I baked today. Ooh, he enjoyed those, with plenty of cream. Oh, and the bowl of crisps he snacked on while he was waiting for his er.. other snack to cool.

And it is early. It's barely half past five.

Why do this? What, you ask, is my logic?

All, dear feeder... oh, sorry, I mean, dear reader, in good time.

"I know honey - sorry," I coo, all apologies. "I really messed up the timings." I pull out his chair, coaxing. He sits, looking a little irritated, but... it's still dinner. He can't not have dinner.

I begin to spoon rice into his bowl. "I'll just give you a little, you can always come back for more." I conceal my smirk. I call it a little, but in fact it's a good sized portion. I make a bed in the middle of his rice and ladel in curry. One, two, three ladels of rich creamy biryani, his favourite. By now he can smell the flavours, and I can sense his appetite kicking in. He might not be hungry, but mmm.. it looks so good.

---

"A little more," I offer, as he scrapes his fork around the plate, gathering every last scrap of rice. He nods, using the time while I reload his plate to reach for another samosa. Always efficient, my husband. Hates wasting time, which explains how he put his food away so quickly.

Too late I realise I've given him a bigger helping than I meant to, but he doesn't. "Pass the naan," he says through a full mouth. I do as I'm bid, and top up his beer too. I stand to do this, moving round the table. Though not strictly necessary for the pouring of beer, it gives him more room to keep eating and, far more importantly, offers me an excellent overhead angle to assess the current status of The Belly.

Current status: Full. The jiggly pot my husband accumulated over two years of marriage (sedentary job, no significant exercise, boozy weekends with his buds and a feast of a home-cooked dinner every evening) has swelled up a few levels from its emtpy jiggly state and is now pressing taut against his t-shirt. I bite my lip. It looks lovely. Deliciously swollen with a rich, sumptuous and above all calorific Indian dinner on top of his brownies and cri-

"Hey, watch it!"

Husband leans back, hands out in surprise, familiarising me with the half-chewed contents of his mouth. Oops! In my distracted state I overfilled his beer and it's spilled. "Argh, sorry honey," I say, lifting his napkin to dab the table, and -very gently- the wet patch on the top of his stomach (yes, when full it protrudes enough to have a "top"). "It's fine. Just leave it," he grumbles, impatient to resume his meal.

I mentioned that he's a fast eater, and within a few minutes, he's cleared his plate for the second time, and is wiping curry from his chin. I remove his plate and saunter over to the fridge. "A little dessert?" I ask, emerging with the tray of brownies.

I can see him thinking about it. He knows he shouldn't. He's clearly replete, probably starting to feel a little stuffed, with all that bread and rice. But he's also four beers deep. The alcohol is kicking in, lowering his inhibitions, and his tastebuds are craving something sweet.

"Yeah, just one," he says. I smile and let him pour on his own cream, which he does liberally. One might even say greedily.

This time he's not so quick to finish, but finish he does, even scraping up some of the cream. He puffs. He sighs. He drains his beer.

"It's still early," I suggest, packing the dishwasher while he sits for a moment and takes stock. "Fancy a little walk."

He doesn't, of course. "Too tired" is the spoken answer, but "Too full" is the one beneath it. I nod, ever the understanding wife. "Of course. You've had a long day. Why don't you go through and watch TV. I'll finish up here."

He grunts gratefully, and I spy a peek of pudge beneath his t-shirt as he rises. The belly has transitioned to: Stuffed. More than full. Protruding at the naval in an exaggerated fashion, almost like a pregnant woman's. A subtle bounce as he departs, that makes him wince and press a hand to his flank.

--------

Dear reader, it appears I may have undergagued the Belly's fullnesss. I think it must've been those samosas. I hadn't bargained on him having three (greedily leaving just one for me). Whatever the reason, as I enter the living room, with a fresh beer, I hesitate. The Belly is quite clearly overstuffed. The t-shirt is inching up with each breath, and a pale expanse of stomach on show looks tightly swollen. The situation is delicate. Overstuffed can mean indigestion, bad moods, grumpiness. The Belly, having glutted itself beyond its needs, must be dealt with tenderly.

It does not need more beer.

Fortunately, even my husband can't drink beer while he's asleep. And asleep he is. Long, lazy snores. Belly inflating with each one. Deciding that the nap will do him good, I place his beer down by his table, and take the chair across the room, picking up my book. I glance at the clock.

It's barely half six. Plenty of time...

To be continued.

#ffa #bhm #weight gain #gluttony #feedinghimfatter #overeating #female fat admirer

[rinharuweek]

Floating, Fading, a Tiny Spark

prompt: rin and haru as witches! bonus: they have cats or can turn into cats

@elena-of-time

“Haru!”

The door to the small cottage slams open as Rin stalks inside. He unlaces his boots, yanking his feet free, tossing the sodden footwear carelessly to the side. One sharp heel clatters against the metal coat rack with a resounding clang. Haru appears in the hallway, Rin’s black familiar nervously weaving around Haru’s bare ankles, tail puffed and twitching. They stare at Rin as though he’s lost his mind. On another day, he might humor both Haru and Sousuke, lowering his voice and apologizing for throwing his boots and creating a ruckus.

“What is it, Rin?” Challenge laces Haru’s tone, fists firmly clenched by his side. Rin eyes him cautiously, irritation diffusing as quickly as it had risen once he takes a moment to really see Haru and the air pulsing around him. The aura that usually surrounds his partner in business and in life a calm deep blue, ebbing and flowing around him like the ocean tides. At times, it lightens, practically glowing, when Rin’s own radiant joy infuses itself into Haru, bringing rays of orange and red fire streaking through the rippling air.

As Rin studies Haru’s aura, he forgets about his soaked socks, his chilled feet, and the unexpected lake he had to wade through once he passed through the gate onto their cozy property. He takes a step towards Haru, tentatively, followed by another one, hands up in a pacifying gesture, until he is directly in front of Haru. Sousuke stands between them, guarding Haru from Rin’s previous display of anger. Rin scoffs and nudges the cat out of the way with his foot, earning a soft hiss, though Sousuke moves aside slightly.

Rin grasps Haru’s hands, thumbs pressed firmly into his wrists as he attempts to read what’s ailing the other witch. Magic thrums under his thumbs, sluggishly, as though it actively attempts to hide from Rin’s assessment. “What happened today?”

Haru averts his gaze, wrenching his head to the side to stare at the wall.

Rin gives a light squeeze to Haru’s hands. “You can tell me.”

“I still can’t control it.” Haru’s voice is tight with stress and disappointment. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

“But you said-”

“I know what I said!” Haru roars, uncharacteristic and at odds with his steady demeanor. “I can’t fix this. Why is my magic so weak? Why isn’t it free anymore?”

Rin’s eyes tingle with shared frustration, except he can’t cry right now, not when Haru is the one dealing with magic deviation. He moves his hands up to Haru’s shoulders, this gesture hopefully interpreted as more supportive, more calming.

“Can I…will you let me try and help you?” Rin feels overly cautious, usually jumping into anything with both feet and then some, but he desperately longs to be of assistance, especially because this is Haru. He can’t sit by doing nothing as his partner’s magic grows weaker and more unpredictable by the day.

Haru scowls, though his posture uncoils a little, and the near-black cloud surrounding him brightens enough for Rin to read easily, allowing him to detect traces of the innate, beautiful azure that engulfs Haru.

“Haru. Please.” Rin’s chest is heavy, a band sitting across his lungs as he watches the myriad of negative expressions play across Haru’s face, each one more painful than the last. Finally, his eyes sharpen, the blue practically glowing as he schools his features into something fierce, something determined.

Haru takes a deep breath, one that Rin perceives not only in the hands still resting on his partner’s body, but inside him, as he sees the fire rekindle inside the stubborn, black-haired witch. He slips his fingers inside Haru’s shirt, pulling aside his collar as he trails his hand lower, until it rests directly over the other man’s core. The magic is there, fluttering under his palm, struggling to break free and be released from where Haru desperately restrains it, battling back its current chaotic state.

Rin guides Haru over to the couch, laying him down and unbuttoning his shirt, while settling his own breathing into as relaxed a state as he can muster given the circumstances. He kneels on the floor, peeling off his damp socks.

Haru frowns. “I’m sorry. I was trying to gather water to do something simple. Kid stuff.”

Rin nods in understanding - if Haru cannot direct and shape water, he cannot utilize his magic for their business. Rin has been carrying their joint load for months now, ever since Haru’s magic started deviating and his reliability as a Healer began to plummet. However, they are both aware that Rin lacks the capabilities of physical cures beyond herbal recommendations and simple tinctures. Rin heals auras through channeling his energy to restore spiritual balance and mental equilibrium, while Haru heals bodies by controlling the very life blood within. Together they can solve almost any malady of the mind, body, or soul that crosses their path. Alone, Rin is sinking.

“I couldn’t even conjure rain.” Haru whispers, shame coloring his face with an ashen pallor. “I could do that when I was seven years old.”

Rin hums, rocking forward on his knees, laying one palm flat on Haru’s abdomen, the other smoothing black hair off his forehead. He gazes into blue eyes, swirling endless depths, turbulent and dark, like the sea after a storm.

Haru blinks in confusion. “There was nothing, no matter how hard I focused or urged my magic up towards the surface, I called for it with everything I had. And then it snapped, it started thunderstorming, right in front of me, and the rain only stopped because I almost drained myself.”

The air hitches in Rin’s throat, lungs burning and heart aching when he pictures Haru passing out, alone, cold, and frustrated in an unwanted pool of water outside their front door. He has never been so grateful for natural protection from their own power, each witch’s core shutting the body down before it can consume itself entirely. It can be overridden, however it is dangerous and only possible under extreme emotional duress. He forces himself to relax when Haru flinches from how hard he pushes his hand down on his partner’s body.

“I’m sorry, Haru. I’m so sorry, I should have been here, I shouldn’t be seeing patients when you aren’t able to be at our practice. I should have been here, healing you, helping you. I saw it, saw what was going in, but I thought…I didn’t. Haru. I'm…” Rin finally stops babbling out his scattered apologies when Haru rests a cool hand atop his, their joined hands rising and falling gently with Haru’s slow, stable breathing. Rin shakes his head, and attempts to match the rhythm.

“It’s okay, Rin. I didn’t want you to know how bad it had gotten. I thought I could fix it.” Haru smiles softly at him, a slight quirk of his lips that shines like the sun.

Rin combs his fingers through Haru’s hair, willing the trembling to stop, before settling his palm back on the other witch’s forehead. He leans down, pressing a tender kiss to Haru’s mouth, coaxing him open, running his tongue along soft pink lips. He loses himself in Haru, breathing him in and flowing back out, a simple exchange of energy through means he doesn’t utilize in his professional life. As they connect together, he senses Haru’s core pulsing under his palm, expanding and growing with every throb of his own core that Rin shares.

Rin’s hand tingles as his magic escapes and enters Haru’s body, everything is so warm. His fingertips, his skin, his heart, his core - the longer the exchange goes on, the more Rin burns. He doesn’t care, he’ll give Haru everything if it will just fix him. All he longs for in this moment is Haru’s magical health. He senses himself shaking, something within him sputtering like a candle being snuffed out. He’s coming down. His head is heavy like lead and his vision fades at the edges. The fire is dying and it’s getting cooler.

Rin idly wonders how fog enters their cottage.

He’s cold.

His hands are numb but can still feel Haru’s energy surging underneath his skin.

It looks like it’s snowing inside…

Or maybe the white spots in his eyes are something else.

Rin reaches for his core, but his magic feels out of reach somehow. He should be concerned except he’s exhausted and cold and his eyes won’t stay open.

He’ll just rest for a minute, and then he can keep assisting Haru, finish balancing his spiritual energy.

Rin fades out, curling in on the void within him, accepting the darkness as it opens its gaping mouth and swallows him.

Rin is floating, fading, and so cold. He sinks into it, his mind empty, pulling him down into the swirling depths. Up above him he sees a tiny spark - though it’s small, it’s stunning and bright, and he can’t help but stare at its brilliance. Like the sun breaking through storm clouds, the light steadily grows as Rin rises to meet it. He’s tired, yet he is compelled to follow this shining beckoning energy above him, warm and comforting, like home, like life. It’s blue and it soothes him, undulating around him as he drifts towards it, until he is surrounded by a beautiful blue ocean, caressing him from the inside out. He’s awake, his mind alert, and he absorbs the water, allowing it to revive him as it washes away the haze and snow.

With a shuddering gasp, Rin’s eyes fly open as he breaches the surface and heaves for breath. His head feels as though it might float away and he clutches at it. He’s face down on top of Haru and so confused. Rin peers up at his partner, who is pale and trembling, yet looking healthier than before Rin collapsed. He glances to the side, the gleaming eyes of Sousuke watching him carefully, tail switching off the edge of the low table.

“How do you feel, Haru?” Rin’s throat is scratchy and dry, as though he hasn’t used his voice in hours or even days. “Did that help?”

Haru glares at him, equally horrified and proud. “I’m not worth burning out for. Don’t do that.”

“What?” Rin is lost, gazing helplessly at Haru, unsure when he became the one under scrutiny. He scrambles off Haru, except he’s unsteady and almost falls off the couch. Haru grabs his upper arms and maneuvers him securely between the cradle of his thighs, pulling Rin’s back flush against his chest. His embrace borders on too tight, but Rin settles back into it, tipping his head onto Haru’s sturdy shoulder.

“You pulled too much. You almost used all your magic Rin, you must have surged past the block. I’m not… you can’t do that.”

“I just wanted you healed, Haru.”

“Well I wasn’t sure if I was healed until I had to reach in and drag you back, and Sousuke helped ground me when I was getting frantic and struggling to control your blood, regulate your water. I almost couldn’t find you, Rin. Promise me you’ll never do that again.” Haru’s voice betrays him, words quivering with hurt and fear. Rin laces their fingers together where their hands rest over his heart.

“I wasn’t trying to do anything stupid,” counters Rin, though it’s weak. Sousuke hops into his lap, nudging his head against their clasped hands. Rin pets him mindlessly, regretful for frightening both his partner and his familiar, yet beyond grateful for them both. “I’ve never lost control like that Haru. I was so worried about you, I’ve been so worried about you, I didn’t know how to stop, I couldn’t tell it was too far. But you saved me.”

Haru runs his nose along Rin’s ear, light, tickling breaths shifting the loose strands of his hair. “We saved each other. Let’s never have to do that again.”

Rin swipes his thumb along the thin skin of Haru’s wrist, feeling the fluttering beat of his energy, the blue of Haru’s aura bright enough to engulf them both. He sighs. “Thank you, Haru.”

“Don’t thank me, just stay with me.”

“I will.” Rin closes his eyes, relaxing into the strength of Haru behind him, as a comforting wave of water flows through him and washes over him, cleansing him, nourishing him. “I love you, Haru.”

#rinharuweek #day eight 2018 #prompt 2018 #fic #rinharu #harurin #free! #submission