#all the proteins I ate to form

[bubble-you]

read a post about if the doctor was a vampire and got snacks from friends. just a bite. and uhh a little horrified because proportionately they’d probably need like 1L of blood at LEAST to be full. And that’s like 25~30% already. So say a snack. But Rory would apparently draw blood for 11 using a needle, and that’s alright, that’s only 5 ml or 10 ml, at most 20. That’s a reasonable snack, if you were to give that away.

It doesn’t dull the dread of if they were to really drink. That’s your strength. Also… the puncture wound needs to heal. Bruises. Anemia. Drained. Unstoppered.

#I was bleeding from 2 places just now #I feel like an open wound perhaps #I feel like some part of myself is made vulnerable #the precious blood I had grown myself dropping out of me like #like curds #don’t leave me #like I’d been reminded there’s this thin part of my outer membrane #that’s been distressed #blood #you wouldn’t raid a barren farm for crops #I have barely anything to give #all the proteins I ate to form #this blood… all the grain and milk #I have no surplus. any surplus is unfit for donation anyway. #blood… #‘the blood is the liiiiife!’ #so yeah to answer the question I don’t know what 12 would do if he was a vampire #and how intimate to ask of your friends a little of their vitality? #but 11 is close enough to Amy and Rory and he’s taken far more from them anyway #to think some people would give their whole stock to me if it would sustain me… #perhaps with 12… Clara… it’d be like a twilight thing. very Eros and Thanatos. #like he would simply control himself no matter how bad he wanted it but they’d take steps on the way. little sacred transgressions #see Don’t Stand So for reference #I haven’t read twilight #but like twilight by contra points. I’ve mentioned a lot on this blog #I can’t believe I forgot to replenish my antivirals and then I got a virus!! how clear and concise this feedback from science

[evilminji]

You know what would be both Cool(tm) AND Pants Shittingly Terrifying? Eldritch Space Whale Danny!

Except NOT! Because he's not a whale! Just snoozing and Giganto-Fuck-Off HUGE!

Imagine it! Danny. Joint Custody Child of The Ancients Of Time And Space. Space is SALTY AF because their BITCH OF AN EX has used his FUCKING POWERS, AGAIN, to CHEAT. Clockwork how DARE YOU.

You knew he'd be our Son in advance!

YOU SNUCK IN AND STARTING BONDING WITH OUR CHILD BEHIND MY BACK!

YOU [REDACTED]!

Danny? Sitting off to the Side as a Sentient Everything and Nothing made of galaxies and starlight, howls expletives at their Ex, who is being... REALLY snippy back? WOW, Clockwork. I mean, JESUS, man. Danny's from "oh bless their heart" Nowhere, Midwest. And even HE thinks that last one was both backhanded and cold af.

......he should take notes. *continues to eat his popcorn*

Anyway! APPARENTLY, Space Parent has taken him in the divorce. With much huffing. Tucked under their arm Like The Football(tm). And honestly? This is kinda hilarious, so he's cool with it. Byyyyyy~ Clock Dad! See you on weekends~☆!

*Exasperated Time Noises*

It's pretty cool! He learns a lot. Learns he's probably? Gonna be SOME variation of Space Ghost. Might even take over Space's... well, EVERYTHING, should the unforeseeable occur. So obviously, gonna have to learn The Family Business, as it were!

Which?

UNSPEAKABLY HYPED, YES PLEASE.

SPACE AND STAR STUFF! HECK YEAH!

Unfortunately? Still a Halfa. Bleh, squishy need to eat and sleep. Why they get in the way of Hyperfixation? Why no more space dust? Nooooo, don't drag him away from the controls! He can still learn! Sleep is for quitters! Cowards! *whining in Give Me Back My Blorbos, You Monsters*

But, no. He apparently has to "take care of his body" and "not burn out". Eat "real food". A protein bar counts! He probably ate one of those! Give him back his STARS! He doesn't CARE if he sounds like a toddler! That's DIRECT ACCESS TO THE SECRETS OF SPACE ITSELF! He'll BITE, so HELP HIM-! *Is scruffed like a cranky infant being carried off to beddy bye*

Injustice! D:<

But, none the less, body's require sleep. He shovles down his food, washes up, and flops down in his bed. In the nice lil cozy "Safe For My Half Apprentice Who Is Also My Adopted Son" corner. He passes out in that corner. Starts to float, as he has done countless times before, when agitated before bed. Floats OUT of that corner.

That Safe Little Corner.

IN THE CENTER, THE BEATING HEART OF SPACE.

You know... the place ALL OF SPACE connects too. Where Universe Form and Die. The Grand Recycler. Dust to Dust, from the ashes of old, to the creation of new. Where PORTALS are randomly assigned. So that the Omniversal Ectoplasmic Levels may always be balanced at near to perfect levels, allowing free flow of Souls through the various Reincarnation cycles.

Space, of course, doesn't MANAGE the Ectoplasm itself. Nor the Souls! Different Ancient for THAT, but they DO manage the PORTALS. We live in a SYSTEM after all. Everyone has their "departments" as it were. So really, it's quiet... Danny? Honey? Awful quiet back there! You, uh, fallen asleep, Starlight?

*empty room*

(O.O)

*inhale* AAAAAAAAAAA-!!!!!!!

Meanwhile! He be Snoozin'! And Ghostin'! Ghost Snoozin'! Is extra comfy, cause he weightless and got not booooones~☆!

But! He? Is not a child anymore! Has learned to... for lack of a better term, Let Go. To finally ACCEPT his Death. His inhumanity. His Amortality. Death no longer holds him, can no longer let him go. He is... not immortal. He is disowned, by his own doing and his own choice, at his timeless moment of Ending.

When Life let go of his hand and Death kindly offered theirs, he did not take it.

And that's okay.

It took awhile. Talking to older ghosts. Most vague and vast, near formless. Because it's... it's scary. And it's all you know. All, really, you've EVER known. Inherent to your identity, even after you leave that part you behind.

You are "human". "Martian" or "Xy'xeruian", something else, and you never question it. Even when you've left behind everything ELSE. Your name, your eyes, your history and skin. Yet you fly around and pretend. Still alive, still human.

But is that YOU?

Or just the form you found your start in?

And like? It's okay if it IS! Sometimes, yeah, you ARE. You look down deep and find a "don't know what you were expecting, buddy" sign stapled to a mirror. But more often? It's that last hurdle. The final step in Letting Go.

Everyone mourns at their own pace.

And they are the ghosts of who they were.

It helped. Mourning for the kid he was. Who was fourteen and wanted to be an astronaut. Who died and will never have a grave. The longer he exsists, for he can't technically be called Alive, the more painfully young that child seems.

It was okay.

To cry for Danny Fenton.

Then? To let him go. Let his memory, be memory. And his Past be the grave that child rests in. Loved dearly and remembered, but no longer binding his soul.

He doesn't have to wear that face anymore.

No tributes to the Dead.

He got? Kinda... BIG. Like REALLY big. Spiraling, serpentine, cracking ice, and burning galaxies. Like a fourth dimensional dragon, of ice and stars, somehow forcing its way into a three dimensional space. Atop it all, between two vast, impossible horns? Made of glacial ice coating the warping hearts of black holes, who's shape themselves seem to shift in unknowable ways? There burns, like comet trails, with super novas, compressed to decorative gems beneath glittering morning frost, a Terrible Crown.

He? Thinks? He MIGHT have wings.

He can't tell.

Because APPARENTLY he's a fuckin tesseract! Oh, no, sorry. He might me a Zone DAMNED PENTERACT!!! Is THIS what he gets for hanging out with Clockwork all the time? He just liked the quiet! Now his "true form" is PHYSICALLY PAINFUL for most people to look at!

Clock Dad WHAT THE HELL?!

(You see, now, why Space broke up with him? An ASSHOLE)

So! Danny stays, usually at least, in his "Hi, yes, I am Normal Human Man" Ghost form. But NOW? Now it PINCHS. Because it's TOO SMALL. But hey, that's fine! It's not like he has an ingrained habit of transforming when super tired and stressed! To float sleep for Maximum Restfulness(tm).

Ha ha!

Why does that feel like foreshadowing?

BECAUSE IT IS!

Danny? Snoozing! Space? Has LOST THE BABY! Portals? Have done a Jood Gob in Portalling, something they are vaguely sure they are supposed to be doing! Yay them! They have no brain cells but still enjoy helping! They moved a thing! That's helpful right? Yay! Probably!

And on DC's planet Earth?

They? Just choked on their fuckin coffee. One moment? La dee daa~ oooh~ look! Stars! Deep space! Oh, hiiii~ Watchtower! The NEXT? *every alarm in the building starts LOSING ITS SHIT* Giant World OBLITERATING SHAPE completely takes up the screen.

From near PLUTO.

There are NO WORDS TO DISCRIBE HOW FUCK OFF BIG THIS THING IS, MR. PRESIDENT. It will eat our nukes and LAUGH. Call! EVERYBODY!!!

Obviously? Superman. I mean really, OF COURSE Superman. Frankly, all the Supers. Because we would like to KEEP having a planet, thanks. Only? The more reports that come in? The more everyone is getting "oh fuck. This is a Workd Eater" vibes.

A massive, massive, Sleeping Titan of a Planet Destroying World Eater.

That MIGHT BE MAGIC.

*highly stressed Everyone noises*

And WORSE? Superman? Can't TOUCH it! Oh sure, at FIRST he could! But then he apparently pushed too hard in just one spot! And it felt POKED AT. So now, after flicking superman HALFWAY BACK TO EARTH to make him stop? No one can physically touch it!

But! There is hope!

Because? The creature is GREEN. Bright, luminous, Lantern Green! And Earth's Lanterns have already sent for back up. Combined? The were able to move a... hand? Paw? Something. But! With the combine forces of several nearby sectors of Lanterns? They promise the power to either relocate the creature or at least hold it in orbit until FURTHER forces can be deployed!

They refuse to harm the creature until it proves actively hostile, as it could have been seeking a place to nap and chosen one inconvenient to established planetary life. Frankly? Earth doesn't CARE where you relocate the giant Eldritch Space Dragon. Just NOT IN OUR BACKYARD, PLEASE.

....YES WE ARE SURE! We don't CARE if the scientific community of our planet is begging you to set up an area for them to place an "observation satellite"! No giant Eldritch Space Dragons in our solar system! It might WAKE UP!

Naturally, about half way THROUGH this Highly Delicate Operation?

Danny Wakes Up.

@hypewinter @hdgnj @lolottes @babbling-babull @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter @mutable-manifestation

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #minji's writing

[hyperfixat]

hey!! I really love ur blog so so much rn! If you can, I'd like to request a neurodivergent MC? One that has certain foods they hate and have never told anyone since their family had forced them to try them since they were little? (Ex. Cauliflower, brussel sprouts, blueberries, bananas, carrots) and so, one day, when theyre all eating (at the HoL or just out) and they notice MC eating all but those foods on their plate? Sorry if this is a bit too specific, I just really can't write it properly for myself and i would like to have some form of comfort-

Anyway, have an amazing day!!

anon i am holding you so close rignt now this cured my writers block this is the first ask i’ve got in like two months TT 

i am incapable of writing anything not hurt comfort so there is some ‘oh man im so sad :(‘ at the beginning but yk if u said u like my writing i imagine u kinda expected this

warning for mentions of throw up and actually eating the bad foods :(

and yes yes yes i love writing explicitly nd mcs!! i added in another obstacle to the req; freaky demon food bcs thats always fun to consider. That way u can kinda make the demon food similar to whatever food u want in ur mind, anyhow, the words u wanted;

/

You push the pile of purple (purple!?) mashed… something from one corner of your plate to the center.  First you had to go to a strange demon school where all of your peers are so much scarier and larger than you and now you’ve been presented with whatever the hell this is for dinner.

You think Leviathan (Levi — it feels so odd referring to him so casually having just met him) was the one that made it.  There was a protein on the plate, you ate that with no issues, but. 

Urgh. This?

It’s your second night sleeping in the House of Lamentation and you don’t feel nearly comfortable or safe enough to get a snack on your own, especially at night. You’ve had such a long day at RAD and your body is dying for some food.

Disguising your disgusted reluctance with a carefully blank face, your grab some of the.  The stuff. 

Ah, nope.  You set your fork down quietly after taking a slow bite / swallow and grab your cup to drown the leftover flavors and textures.  

Luckily all the demon brothers seem pretty into their dinnertime banter and didn’t notice your… less than satisfactory reaction to the food.

Gosh, you don’t want to offend any of them, especially not so early on in the year you’ll have to room with them.  

It’s a good thing that Beelzebub is practically a food vacuum and doesn’t question the nearly untouched pile of. Well you know. Left over on your plate.

/

…It’s official. You hate Devildom cuisine.  

Is the universe playing one big, cruel joke on you?  What the hell is wrong with demons?  Why must the eat the worst things in the world?  Why… why… why?

Lucifer wouldn’t let you starve under his roof, and provides you with full meals and makes it clear what parts of the kitchen are free to raid (as not to take anything designated to anyone else).  You feel like the most ungrateful human in the whole wide world right now.

It’s been quite a few months since the start of the exchange program and you’ve been… getting by.  Okay, that’s not exactly true, you’ve been having a blast in most aspects of your stay in the Devildom.  Most.

There’s still the teeny tiny issue of the cuisine not quite fitting your tastes.  You’ve tried talking to Solomon about the Devildom cuisine and he tried to cheer you up with some authentic human world cuisine, but as it turns out his cooking is far worse than Devildom-style food.

Not to be dramatic, but you’re suffering in silence.  You get by, as in you’re not hungry – the demons you’ve grown oh so fond of wouldn’t let that happen.  They always seem willing to fetch you anything.  

You’re trying so hard not to hurt any feelings, because you love them and want to support them.  It’s just.  You want to throw up almost every meal.  (Barbatos’ little treats have been your saving grace – he always seems to have some yummy little snack on him.  One that you like and doesn’t make you feel like your throat is crawling out of your mouth.)

Most of the time the brothers don’t pay much thought to what you leave on your plate – as long as you eat some of what was served they seem content.  Even on nights where the meal is more nasty than good, it’s easy to just say you’re not that hungry.

This night was bound to happen at some point.  Your plate is uneatable.  It’s edible, just uneatable.  It’d be more humiliating to choke down a few bites than it is to go to bed hungry.  You wrinkle your nose when you think no one is looking and stab at the meat chunk.

Your eyes are downcast and you drag your knife lazily through the food.  It’s mesmerizing in a way, so much so that you don’t notice at first when Asmo calls your name.

“MC, is something wrong? Are you feeling alright?”  At this point he’s drawn the attention of his brothers as well.

“Yeah, you’re barely eating,” Mammon supplies.

Ah, the moment you’ve been dreading and hoped you would never have to face.

“Oh, I don’t have much of an appetite right now.”  Which certainly isn’t a lie.  

“You didn’t eat much at lunch, hon.” Asmo reaches across the table to put the back of his manicured hand on your forehead to feel for a fever.

You cringe, “uhm, well.  I’m.”  You fail to think of a decent lie quick enough – nothing you say will be believable as you mentally blue screen.

“Honest answer?”  Satan prods.

“I’m not the biggest fan of some Devildom foods.” “Not the biggest fan?”  Beel questions, “you dislike them enough to forgo eating entirely.”  

“I’m trying not to sound like an ungrateful jerk right now.  Give me a moment to word this properly.”

Satan scoffs. “Just say it.  Whatever you have to say can’t be worse than what we’ve put you through.”

“Damn, okay.  The food makes me wanna throw up when I eat it.”

Levi, the chef of the night, folds in on himself, face darkening with shame or embarrassment.

“It’s not a personal gripe, most meals have something that makes me feel that way, hon.” It seems your attempt to comfort him isn’t appreciated though, as Levi shoves his face in his hands.

Lucifer sets his fork down. “And why haven’t you said anything to any of us about this?  We want you to feel at home here.”

“You can’t expect me to be comfortable barging into what was at the time a strangers house and demand they make special accommodations for me, then once I was comfortable enough to say something I felt I put up with it long enough that it’d be odd to bring it up out of nowhere.”

“Fair enough,” Satan nods along.

“No? Not ‘fair enough’!” Mammon scolds.  “You shoulda said something to me!  Do you even like half the snacks I give you?  I spent good Grimm on those!”

Memories of bribing Beelzebub to do certain errands in the earlier days of your Devildom stay flicker through your mind.  “They got eaten.”

“MC,” Lucifer brings the conversation back on track.  “Let us know foods you don’t want to eat, we may be demons, but we’re here to provide you with a comfortable stay.”  You nod under his sincere gaze.  “Now, give your plate to Beel and order some delivery.  I’ll cover the costs, as long as you eat.”  

As you shove your plate across the table you see Lucifer pulling a shiny black card from his coat pocket.  He gestures for you to come and take it.  You walk to the head of the table and he presses the card into your hand. 

“Order whatever you’d like.  My treat.”  There’s a glint of humor in his eyes and you look down to see Goldie in your palm.

#verified hyperfixat post #obey me #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #om hcs #obey me hcs #obey me hurt/comfort #obey me headcanons #obey me headcanon #obey me x you #obey me demon brothers #hyperfixat answers

[hidtired]

Poison For Some

(Daryl Dixon x Reader) Masterlist

Description: Your deathly allergic to nuts and dinner in the prison leaves you running for medicine. Your abrupt departure confuses everyone, until your partner Daryl remembers of your allergies. Now it was 24 hours and you were no where to be found.

5.9k words

This runs personally in my life and will be based on my own allergies. It’s different for everyone but, this is mine. [Angst and Fluff]

Carol had made dinner like she did most nights. Winter approached and Rick was trying to put off using the canned goods for as long as he could. So, Carol decided to try and fill in some protein with almonds. She put it in the rice mixing it to whatever meat scraps we last had. Daryl was off in the shower at your demand. He had been hunting a lot more often trying to gather as much meat before winter. Coming back to the prison somehow dirtier than the last, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had rolled around in dirt for how much it cover him.

You sat at the table as Carol handed out portions. Glenn and Maggie were talking about a run they should make for Judith. Little thing needed more appropriate winter clothing. You told them you would go with, so you were just listening to their planning. The steamy bowl placed in front of you sent you happily smiling and thanking Carol for the food. Carol jokingly jabbed at you, “Swear the only way I could ever get a smile like that from you is food.” You scoff digging your spoon into the bowl and shoving it into your mouth. You talk with a mouth full,

“It’s the best way to my heart!”

You chew feeling a unique piece in your mouth. Thinking maybe the rice clumped together. Carol brought you from your thoughts, “That’s why you got yourself a hunter I see.” You chuckle at that, eyes moving to your bowl. You pushed it around spotting what you felt in your mouth, it was something pale. You swallowed the growing saliva in your mouth. Realization hit you like a truck, you sprung up from your seat in a panic. Almond peal off, something in the past you had learned the hard way had nuts in it.

You had never had to use an epiPen before, Benadryl was always what you had to chug before a epiPen was ever thought of. A mental clock started ticking. You didn’t have much time before this nut you just ate starts killing you. You didn’t know you were moving before you were already out the door. Nabbing a set of keys before sprinting to the gate. Other were surprised at the clear shock and outburst you had. You had gone out the door before they even stood to follow. When they got out the door you left the gate to the courtyard open and they saw you sprinting to the exit gate. That brought them into gear yelling and chasing after you. You didn’t have much time. Pill or preferably liquid Benadryl would only work in the early stages of your reaction. You would guess 30 minutes before it was a lost cause.

Considerably to others with the allergy you were lucky. While it was deadly you had more time and didn’t have to pull out a shot of adrenaline every time to fix it. You pulled both gates open not even attempting to close them before getting into one of the run cars. You peeled off before anyone could question you. They all yelled and waved their arms. They couldn’t believe you. The sounds of the tires screeching was emphasis to your haste. They stood at the open gate seeing the car zoom down the road. A few walkers emerged from the woods causing them to try and close the gate as fast as they could.

You white knuckle the steering wheel attempting to take slow breaths. You resisted the urge to scratch at your skin knowing you must have hives by now. A ball seemed to form in your throat. You have been attempting to locate a EpiPen and Benadryl for a while now. You had some before the farm fell and lost it to the herd. You even asked Glenn to keep an eye out for Benadryl on runs. You felt tears prick at your eyes but forced it away knowing crying would only make it harder to breathe. You were scared but you had to think fast in a last ditch effort of survival. If any pharmacy or store you have checked didn’t have it maybe a household was your best bet. You knew you wouldn’t be able to look through many houses so it was a risky gamble. You know of a neighborhood your group has yet to explore. So with a race against time, that’s where you’re headed.

You had mentioned in passing at the beginning of the quarry of your allergy. Only ever talking about it again with Daryl. He hated peanut butter and you said while you’ve never had it because you’ll die, the smell was gross and over powering. Getting a grunt and “Ain’t missing much.” from him. He also may have teased you about how ‘something as simple as a nut could take you down.’ You were always good about your allergies, hence not ever needing an EpiPen. Something your mother was grateful for not wanting to stab you with a shot. It didn’t seem like a big deal at the time. While it could sneak up on you it was always solved somewhat quickly. Maybe you should have made a bigger deal about it.

Daryl POV

He had just gotten a shirt on when he heard rushing and calling for his name. He peaked down from his and your cell to see a worried Beth. As soon as she saw him she was nervous and stammered out, “Y/n! Something… we were just sitting then- she’s gone! She booked it out the prison randomly!” Daryl felt his heart drop and he quickly made his way downstairs to where everyone was now piling back in from outside. Rick ran a hand in his hair as Daryl slid into the room worriedly, “The hells happening?! Where is she?!” He watch as everyone turned to the other not knowing the answer. Hershel tried to calmly tell Daryl, “We’re not to sure but she seemed pretty spooked…”

Daryl looked around about to go into a panic. He spotted a bowl spilt across a table. Maggie followed his eyes and started to explain what happened, “She was sitting there. Joking with Carol and she was fine! Then all the sudden she sprung up and ran for it.” His mind raced, he had to go after you but he couldn’t if he didn’t know where or why you were going in the first place. He turned to Carol a strained expression on his face, “What were you talking about?” Carol just shook her head worriedly and shrugged, “Just food. She was giddy as ever to eat is all.” Daryl looked back to the food sprawled out on the table, “What did you make?” Carol put her hands on her hips, the chatter from the others in the room seemingly felt dense with worry and confusion.

“Just the little bits of squirrel we had left with some rice with almonds.”

He felt the nerves in him burn. His ears flood with blood causing the noisy room to muffle. Understanding why you ran made him light headed. Others around him noticed him pale, and the shocked and panicked look you had before washed over his. He felt frozen, you went off to try and save yourself. Not taking a moment before running off to find Benadryl. Something he knows you, Glenn, and himself struggled to find. He felt like he was going to crash to the floor. He had no clue where you could have gone, and if you would ever come back. The edge of his vision darkened but he felt someone behind him steady him. It was Carl, but his father was the one to drag Daryl’s attention, “What’s happening Daryl? You know why she ran, where is she going?” He turned to look toward Carol,

“She’s allergic to nuts.”

Some gasps rang through the room, some questions flying up in the air. Carol nervously shook, words shakingly coming out of her mouth, “Oh my god, I killed her.” She sunk down to a chair a wave of nausea painted on her face. Hand covering her face as tears broke out, “I didn’t know- I remember peanuts maybe. It’s all m-my fault-t.” Glenn leaned over the table as he looked down, “Is that what Benadryl is for?” He seemed almost sick with himself that he hadn’t tried harder to look for it. The room had slowly grown quiet. A pained expression filled their faces as the gravity of the situation weighed on them.

Rick spoke trying to do what he did best, lead. He needed to control the situation and make a plan. He stood straight with arms crossed, “We need to figure out where she ran off. Then try and find some medicine to save her.” He turned to Hershel, “You have everything if it goes south?” Hershel was mid thought thinking maybe a endotracheal tube they had could keep you breathing long enough for medication. Daryl grunted and shook his head, frustrated but heartbroken, “It’s no use, we been looking for anything for her since the farm. She would have never had a chance if she didn’t ran off like she did.” He was angry at the thought, he could do nothing but hope wherever you go you find anything.

Rick spoke calmly trying not to set him off, “Her best bet is with us-“ much to his attempt Daryl roared in anger, “By the time we even made it anywhere let alone getting it back to her she would have been dead!” He clenched his teeth, “We haven’t even the slightest clue where anything for this is.” He now huffed getting emotional, “She did what she had to, she made the right call.” He looked back to a sobbing Carol, “We just hope she comes back now…” He spun around back to the cell he came. His back turned to everyone, the stone lodged in his heart finally crushed him. Swiping the curtain to the cell he looked through blurred eyes at the place you both shared.

He sank to the bed. The lasts words exchanged between you and him running in his mind. ‘Go shower so I can kiss you.’ You pushed him away into the hall. He smuggled remarked a ‘Always can kiss me in the shower.’ Watching you become coy with him at the implication. Always easy to get blood rushed to your face. You had surprised him growing ever more comfortable around him in there growing relationship. Grabbing his dirty tan shirt and pulling him into a kiss. A smile plastered on your face at his surprised one, you whispered, ‘More for when you’re clean.’ He isn’t sure when the relationship happened.

It was slow to happen but there had been to many times your eyes caught on each other. Then you slept closer to him when you had yet to find the prison. You had kissed him on the cheek before a hunt giving him it for luck. When he came back with a deer good luck kisses happened more. An arm throw around you there and then. You holding onto him while on his bike. Wasn’t til the prison when you nervously suggested sharing the same bed that he caved. That first night on a bed he kissed you. More so devoured you but he would deny that. You had never cuddled before that night either, waking up tangled into each other on the small bed.

The small bed he now cried in over the all to real possibility he had lost you. He was laid back arm across his face. His teeth clenched together to stop any pained noise to release from him. Emotion circling in him, regret, anger, heartbreak, he hadn’t even the chance to tell you how much he loved you. The fear always stopped the word from tumbling from him. He could only wait.

Your POV

It had taken you 10 minutes to reach the neighborhood you sought after. Given that you were driving faster than you normally were ok with. You quickly jump out the car running into one of the near houses. Your hands shook while fumbling with the door. Adrenaline pumping in you mostly likely helping your survival. You pushed through making quick work of any spots you could think of. Kitchen cabinets, bathroom drawers, purses. The fabric of your clothes rubbed your irritated skin any time you moved. You abandon the house and moved to the next. Your quick pace making it harder to breathe. You cough and swallow trying to relieve some of the pressure in your closing throat.

You upturned and ran sacked the next house just as you did with the other. Throwing bottles of random medication behind you as you increasingly became more desperate. You left that house looking through every room but one with a walker in it. Your eyes scanned the line of houses. Your heart ached with fear thinking you were about to asphyxiate to death. You had one more house left in you to search. You picked one that had a small bike in the overgrown grass. You moved as fast as you could while heaving. You couldn’t break down the door with the strength you had so you went through a window. You paused momentarily for any movement, hearing a lack of any you started.

Cabinet, drawers, bathrooms, now you stumbled up the stairs. Tears streaming down your face with a sense of defeat. You looked in the master bedroom knocking things over again finding nothing. You slowly moved down the hall to a kids bedroom. Glow in the dark stars on the roof. Tubs of toys filled the walls. Stuff animals filled the bed. You had removed your shirt due to its unwanted friction on your skin. Looking to the pink painted chipped walls, you shakingly come to terms with defeat. Sinking down to the floor resting against the bed frame. You look to walls covered in kids drawings. Gasping for whatever air you could bring in was the only sound in the still house.

You thought of Daryl, not having been together for long but you felt in your heart he was your everything. You didn’t have much in the world but then you had him. He didn’t have much either and you tried to not lessen that anymore with losing you. You failed but you hope he knew you tried. He was a big factor to why you were fighting this so hard. You looked to the end of the bed spotting a backpack. The little girls room you’ve been in must belong to a 1st grader. Maybe you could find a pencil and paper to right a proper goodbye. You gasped air while fiddling with the zipper. You looked for paper and a pen while you thought of what to say. You were at least glad you had kissed him the last you saw him.

Struggling to look in the back you poured the contents out on the floor in front of you. You couldn’t believe your eyes. A zip lock bag with a bottle of red liquid you were all to familiar with. You rip the back open spotting an old epinephrine pen with it. The bottle was small but was filled all the way. You managed to get the cap off despite struggling with the child lock. The disgusting bronze liquid flowed into your mouth. You resisted the urge to cough it up, it slowly trickled its way down your closing throat. You had downed a good bit of the bottle. It felt as if it numb the pain in your throat. A sense of relief flowed over you. You sat there still stunned as you slowly regained some breath. You lean your head back to rest on the bed behind you. You took it in, you felt shame at almost dying so easily but you were ok.

You looked back to the EpiPen you held not feeling the need to use it. It’s intended users name plastered on it, ‘Penelope Thompson, allergen Bees.’ Your skin still burned to the touch but you managed to flop back onto the small bed. Stuff animals falling to the floor. You held still trying to fully regain air in your lungs. Waiting to see if you had stopped the reaction. You laid sprawled out staring at the ceiling. Resisting the urge to scratch everywhere. The growing itch in your scalp caused you to squeeze your eyes shut.

You don’t know how long you laid there before feeling like you could breathe easily. No lump felt like it blocked your throat. You had decided to get up before it got dark, knowing everyone at the prison was worried sick. When you got up right exhaustion hit you. Benadryl main side effect being drowsiness. Considering you had just consumed a large amount of it, it weighed on you. It wouldn’t be safe to travel if you fell asleep at the wheel. You didn’t need just surviving a near death experience and then crashing the car into another one. You were met on your almost dying quota for one night you think. Moving the door closed and shoving a bookcase slightly to it was the best you’d get. As soon as you lay back down it crashed back into you. Struggling to even keep your eyes open you fell asleep despite the itch of your skin.

Your eyes slowly open. You didn’t move an inch or dream in your sleep. Felt like you blinked and it was pitch black outside. You bounced up to remember what had happened. Your hives seemed to be at a minimum and you felt back to normal. Expect the grogginess. You slept like a rock in your bones and muscles protest at your movement. Even though it was dark you decided to make your way back to the prison. A few walkers could be seen in the darkness but getting back to the car you’d be fine. After getting in the driver seat you rubbed at your eyes. You felt like you had way too long of a nap. You had no clock in the car and you sighed leaning back in the seat.

“I wonder how long I slept?”

Daryl POV

Hour after hour went by. Tension was high in the prison. Darkness started to fall over the prison. Daryl sat in a watch tower looking off to the empty road. He chewed his lips til a copper taste slipped into his mouth. A few hours after no return from you felt like the end of the world. You could very well be dead by now. Maybe you had even turned and started walking aimlessly. He wallow in his bed for those first few hours. Deciding recently just stand watch. Waiting and waiting maybe wasn’t the best thing to do. All the terrible things he could think the only thing keeping him company. A few people attempted throughout the night to talk him down tell him to get some rest. Coming up with any excuses why you were not back yet.

When dawn broke everyone except Herschel, Beth and Judith, were grouped in an attempt to locate you. Looking into possible supermarkets or pharmacies you might have tried finding medication. Every empty building with no sight of you felt like a lost hope. While even in the building, they looked for possible Benadryl or an EpiPen. With no luck to even finding the smallest bit of that. The consensus of you being gone was weighing heavier than that you were still around. Likelihood of you surviving seem to crash. They hope that maybe if they went back to the prison, you would’ve found your way back. That also didn’t happen.

Daryl was in a world of anger and pain. Rick didn’t know how much he cared for you, but he did now. It was becoming dusk again as everybody stood in the courtyard. Another search party would be happening in the morning. Many stopping Daryl from doing anything in the dark. Their main point being that maybe he wouldn’t find something if it wasn’t in the daylight. He sulked in his cell. That's how Carol found him. Deep in thought but she spoke to him either way, “Daryl?” He slowly turned his attention to her. She swallowed her nerves and began again, “I’m so sorry… Her death is on me.” He felt anger rising in him. He knew Carol was remorseful but suggesting that you were already dead? That made him grit his teeth, “Not yer fault, shit happens and you didn’t mean to.” She felt relief until his voice grumbled in displeasure, “An she ain’t dead yet so watch it.” His eyes stare daggers into her, causing her to leave in shame.

He rested his eyes knowing he would sleep a few hour and then go back to the watch tower. Leaning into the side you normally took, he relished in the slightest smell of you in the sheets. He had doubts about having a relationship. Due to past experience and a lack of trust he held with people. When he started to care for you he found he was scared to, not wanting to lose you one day. But he couldn’t deny you after a while. You were to tempting and god did you not give him everything he ever wanted in a partner. He tried to stop his racing thoughts due to not wanting to work himself up.

He tried sleeping, more like sat there with his eyes closed but he got a few minutes in between just laying there. Eventually becoming too restless and going to the watch tower. He knew he should try sleeping more. He would need the energy for the next search but, he couldn’t bring himself to rest with you not beside him.

Your POV

You were driving at a moderate pace, not wanting a walker to step in the road and crash into it. However halfway back you felt it staling. When you saw the gas tank was running on empty you knew you would have to walk eventually. But privy to the luck you had with the medication it soon ran out. You saw a bunch of silhouettes farther into the road. Coming straight at you probably due to your headlights. Then the speed you had been maintaining stopped. You pulled the car over to the side as it sputtered to a stop. Locking the doors and turning the car off. Hopefully the herd you saw wasn’t to big and you could wait for it to pass. You moved to try and crawl into the back crashing to the floor.

You sat there trying to remain calm and quiet when the sound of hundreds of feet shuffled pass you. Some ran into the car making you jump. This horde was a big one but at least now it wasn’t on route to the prison. It felt like ages cramped down between the seats. Your stomach growling at you. What you would do to chug some water. You spaced out looking to the window seeing the occasional shadow pass by outside. Thoughts running through your mind. It suddenly felt like many you had slept a few more hours then you thought. You think it was maybe 3 but then you remembered Benadryl made you fall asleep for at least 12. So the question is, ‘Was I asleep a whole day?’

When the shuffling an smell of rotten meat had stopped. The silence is what brought you from thought. You would wait some more not wanting to run into strays or have the horde turn around because it heard you. You at least sat up in the back. Looking forward you could see a few slower walkers making their way with the crowd. Waiting and watching them until they were a fair distance you got out. Softly closing the door you walked the opposite to them back to the prison. You had wished the car had a working clock in it to tell you if it was close to dawn. But a hour into walking the sky changed the ever so slight difference of blue.

You were hungry and thirsty so the longer you walked the more exhausted you felt. You stepped into the trees close to the road. Electing to sit down and take a break. You watch the sunrise. The cold breeze seeming to warm a little. Maybe you should have found a coat before leaving that house. Granted you thought you’d be in the car. Staring out to the orange sky. Some emotions washed over you. Having a moment to stop and think finally put you back into having to think of what almost happened. This sunrise you sat watching you almost missed. Not only that but you thought about Daryl a little more. Your relationship was slow, almost like you both were afraid to miss step. You couldn’t care about any of that now. You sniffled standing back up. Deciding then and there.

You were going to just love him without restriction.

With such determination, you walked again. Only about 8 more miles left until you get there. The bottom of your feet hurt. You had a pinch in your side. It reminds you of all that ground you used to cover after the farm. Mostly it was driving but there were cases where it was back to walking. Like hunting with Daryl or finding gasoline. Stumbling along the sky was now just blue. Morning birds chirping in trees. You had only walked 3 out of the 8 miles so far. Taking notice that the herd must have cleared a good portion of the walkers because you had yet to see one. You sat down right on the road again. What you would do for some pasta right now. Thought of food making your stomach rumble. Sighing and getting back up again you walked a little slower than you first started. You had to keep going.

You look down to your feet as you walk. A hand pressing into the ache of your side. A distance rumble that wasn’t your stomach caught your ear. The closer it came you realize it was someone using the road! You spotted a car in the distance. The green jeep Glenn and Maggie often used. Sighing in relief, the thought of not having to walk another step was a blessing. You put your hands on your hips stopping in place waiting for them to get closer. But what caught your eye was Daryl’s bike behind them. A smile plastered on your face. You started laughing, it was a way to release some of the emotion bubbled into you. You give a small wave to the now closer jeep. You knew the moment they spotted you because the car seemed to jerk in surprise. The car rolled to a stop next to you. Daryl seemingly lost in thought only slowing seeing the jeep stopped.

By the time you saw him look up and lock eyes he didn’t even let his bike stop fully before jumping off and running to you. You were tired and disheveled looking but oddly so did Daryl. When he reached you he crashed into you lifting you off your feet into an embrace. The cold you had unknowingly gotten used to was replaced by Daryl’s warmth. He was breathing at a fast pace while you melted into him. Tears of relief were in your eyes about to fall when Daryl pulled back and kissed you with desperation. Never before have you been kissed in such a way. With so much… love. This was new to you both loving another like this. So you returned the kiss with just as much heart. Pulling back for air you both huffed staring at each other. The look in his eyes shock you. Never seeing him on the verge of tears made you actually break into your own. Sobbing and clinging to him in desperation with words flooded out of your mouth, “I love *hiccup* you- so much!” Your exhausted state delaying the flood of emotions. You were on survival mode and it wasn’t until feeling safe again that everything hit you.

You felt another hand on your back looking over Daryl’s shoulder to see Maggie with tears of her own with a smiling Glenn behind her. The shock and fear replaced by a laugh that unconditionally rolled out of you. Daryl had his head shoved into your neck, you could feel the dampness of his tears on your skin. You both still keeping a tight hold on the other. Glenn was the one to state in disbelief what mostly all of them had thought, “How the hell you manage to be alive right now is beyond me!” It is what made Daryl pull back to check you for injury’s. You watch as his face scans you. You pulled a hand away to grab the bottle and EpiPen you found with a smile. Looking down to the more then half gone bottle you gave a sheepish smile, “Luck or a refusal of death, I’m not to sure.”

A loud growl in your stomach pushed Daryl into gear, “We gotta get her back.” It’s the first words you’ve heard him say. He was obviously still in protector mode and will fall out of it when he knows you’re ok for real. But you couldn’t disagree with going back home, “How long have I been gone?” You were leaning into Daryl’s side, his arm around you while walking to his bike that had fallen over in his rush to see you. He looked down to you sadly moving away with a grunt to lift his bike up, “Almost two days…” He moved sitting on his bike and holding out his hand to help you on. Your eyes were wide with shock moving closer to him, “Well shit. So much for thinking it was about 12 hours.” You lifted yourself up behind him on the bike. You noticed he was confused at your words but that gave him even more reason to get you back and checked by Hershel.

You dozed off on the ride back. Clinging to Daryl you just couldn’t stop your eyes from wanting to close. You were unaware of how truly malnourished and dehydrated you were. Daryl’s hand would slide back and grab your thigh leading you to perk up from being slumped over him. When the prison came into view you sighed in relief leaning your head in between his shoulder blades. It was Carl who pulled open the gate. When Daryl pulled in you could hear Carl screaming your name as he rushed your way. Using Daryl’s shoulders to get off you waited for Carl to crash into you. He hadn’t show this much emotion since his mom died. You hugged him but eventually pulled back, knocking his hat back in place on his head.

A hand to your back was Daryl’s way of trying to pull you inside. Carl saying he needed to stay at the gate for the others. You didn’t realize everyone was out looking for you. Getting out of the bright light of outside made you realize just how bad of a headache you had, a sign of dehydration. First person you see is Herschel reading his Bible. His face immediately filling with a smile at the sight of you, you sheepishly returning it. His fusing over you getting the attention of Beth with Judith in arm to come rushing out of the cell block. More people fusing over you was becoming overwhelming. Your body seemingly running on whatever fumes it has left.

A bowl seemingly appearing in front of you snapping you back from space. You didn’t even realize you spaced out and you started catching up with Hershel speaking, “Yes, but after she eats she should sleep. She needs to eat again in 6 hours. With as many times we’ve struggled with food I’m worried for her internal organs.” You already started eating what was in front of you. It was filled with more meat than you’ve had since the farm! It was definitely hitting a spot but you struggled with eating it all. Apparently them looking for you always got them checking places that still hadn’t been picked through. You stood up and away from the bowl that was still half full. You grabbed the cup of water from the table and turning to Daryl who had a displeased face. You started walking to the cells,

“Come on grumpy I’m going to bed, if I eat anymore I’ll end up throwing it up.”

You could hear him quietly following you. It wasn’t until you rolled onto the bed with a sigh that you looked over at him. You were confused why you hadn’t felt the bed dip but his face had so much to say. The sheet that covered the door was pulled making the room a little darker. He just stood there seeming to not know what to do. “Daryl…” you were pressed up to the wall having your arms open trying to lure him to you. He lay on his side looking at you. He was tired you were sure. Sighing you scoot yourself closer to him. Running a hand up his arms got him to talk, “M’ sorry, just in my head.” He pulled an arm to wrap around your waist. He gulped looking at you with eyes that could stab a dagger through your heart.

His hand moving from your waist to your face and holding it there, “I didn’t know you were my everything.” You can only look at him with wide eyes and mouth slightly open in shock. Looking on to his glassy eyes while they roamed your being. Sleep was calling you yes… but he was basically screaming for you with his eyes. ‘Everything?’ You could only wonder how he felt thinking you were somewhere dead. His fingers move to bring the hair away from your face. Moving your hand to mirror his you looked him dead in the eyes, “I thought I was going to die, the only reason I didn’t was because of you.” His eyebrows furrowed so you continued,

“My last thoughts were of you. I was going to write you a letter and when I empty a school bag near me for something to write on the meds came falling out with it.”

You could feel him take in a big breath to try and steel himself but you inch closer with determination. ”The only reason I tried so hard was to come back to the one thing I had, you.” You give him a quick peck leaning back for him to come hold you closer to him in a tight grip. He mumbled out something while outstretched over you… “I love you so much it burns.” That's all it took to drift you into sleep with a smile.

When it comes to 'picking your poison.' Daryl will always go to choose you.

Feedback welcome and requests open! [Sorry for lack of posts schedule is back to every other day!]

#daryl dixon #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x female reader #daryl x reader #daryl imagines #norman reedus #twd daryl #angst #fluff

[skzsauce01]

What Was I Made For

Synopsis: College is hard, but it's even worse when you're a pre-med student and it's even, even worse when you don't want to go into medicine. Fortunately, the ghost that haunts your apartment is more kind, more annoying, and more helpful than you ever thought possible. College AU, ghost AU.

Warning: alcohol, bad parental relationship, mentions of death

Word Count: 6.2k

Pairing: f!reader x ghost!Kim Seungmin

A/N: Good luck with exams and classes!

“Honey, I’m home,” you call. The handles of the reusable grocery bag you picked up from a club booth at the beginning of the semester are already starting to fall apart, so you’re forced to flip on the light switch with your shoulder blades. You glare at Seungmin, who is lounging on the couch, staring at the ceiling. “Could you at least pretend to help?”

“What’s the point? I can’t even eat whatever you bought.”

You sigh and set down your haul onto the tiny kitchen island that doubles as a dining table. When you make a big production of taking out your groceries, Seungmin still doesn’t look up. Despite his inability to eat food, he usually shows some interest, if only to judge your snack choices.

On the counter, bananas in a plastic produce bag to prevent fruit flies, and a new roll of paper towels. On the top shelf of the fridge, a tub of Greek yogurt that Seungmin makes fun of you for liking. Assorted salad mixes in the crisper. A whole rotisserie chicken and a carton of eggs on the middle shelf. In the cabinet goes a party-sized bag of barbeque chips, a pack of chocolate chip cookies you don’t want to discuss how much you paid for, and a box of protein bars. 

You take the last item out of the bag and hide it behind your back. You hover over Seungmin. “Guess what I got?”

“A bag of potatoes that will grow spuds because you can’t finish them all.”

“That was one time! Try again.”

He guesses wrong again and again, so after the fifth attempt, you hold your prize in front of his eyes. “A better vegetable peeler, just like you told me to. Are you proud of me?”

For a moment, his sullen eyes brighten at the memory of you struggling with your old peeler. He watched with great amusement as the flimsy blade repeatedly got caught on carrot skin and you grew more infuriated with each catch. In the end, you gave up and ate the skin, fuming with each bite of your meal. Seungmin laughed so hard, you thought he would lose control of his physical form and slip through the floor. 

He sighs, all of the joy escaping through his lips. “Yeah, sure. Sorry, it’s just one of those days.”

“We all have them. Hey, why don’t we do something tonight? I’m done studying, so we can watch a movie or play Mario Kart or something.” You plaster a smile on your face. “Fun, right?”

“You’re never gonna get into med school if this is how you work.”

Despite his admonishments, he sits up and swings his legs off the couch to make room for you. He didn’t choose an activity so Mario Kart it is. You leave your peeler on the coffee table and grab your joycons. When you flop beside him, tossing the blue one in his lap, he grumbles as he’s jostled around.

“I don’t even wanna go to med school,” you remind him. He already knows since it’s all you complain about these days as the MCAT draws closer, but that’s never stopped you from repeating yourself.

“Wow, what a problem. I’d die to go to med school.” 

Without thinking, you snort. “Too late for that.”

Seungmin has been dead for nearly two years. The old apartment complex burned down in an electrical fire, and due to the housing demand in the area, the university quickly built a new one in its place. Sure, you suspected it was probably haunted, but rent was on the cheaper side, especially for a single room, so you moved in and learned about your unofficial roommate during your first night. You thought you were going to faint when you saw a stranger leaning over your stack of practice books, and you thought you were going to be killed when he simply said, “I was also pre-med.”

“Sorry,” you meekly say. Why is the Mario Kart music so cheerful? It would be worse if it was sad, but the upbeat tune just makes your mistake more poignant. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” he interjects. “Doesn’t matter. You better not pick Birdo this time.”

While you normally would have fought him six ways from Sunday for Birdo, you choose Yoshi instead and pick his favorite circuit to start off the night. He makes no comment about your sudden generosity, but you both know the reason. There’s no such thing as pity in this household, but apologies are aplenty.

When you come back from your anatomy lab the following day, whatever guilt you felt is gone when Seungmin holds up your pack of cookies with a disapproving look. You must have forgotten to put it back in the cabinet before you left. Either that or Seungmin rummaged around your belongings when the roommate contract stated that he could not and would not.

“You seriously paid for these?” he says. 

“They’re good! And artisan,” you huff as you snatch the package from his hands. You hope you didn’t crush any cookies in the process. “I support small businesses.”

“They haven’t been a small business or artisan in, like, twenty years. How did the cat dissection go?” 

You reach for an overpriced cookie and snap off a piece with more force than necessary. “Fine. A little gross, but I guess I’m used to that by now. You wanna see the pictures I took?”

He tries to feign nonchalance, but his body seems more substantial, less ghost-like as you scroll through your camera roll. Even though he oohs and aahs at the most inappropriate images—you really don’t think the digestive structures of a cat deserve that much admiration—you can’t help but smile. He hasn’t looked or sounded this lively in weeks. You thought it might have been your snark rubbing off of him, but he always has a biting remark at the ready, remedied only with his good-natured demeanor. Of course, that demeanor has been slowly crumbling, so to see him be his usual self again feels good.

Satisfied, he lets you take your phone back. “Sometimes I miss lab. I hated doing the lab reports though; have fun with that.”

And just like that, your happiness goes out. “That’s tomorrow’s problem. I should study before work. You wanna help me out? I hate physics.”

Look, if your roommate were a pre-med student, had unlimited time, and no other obligations, you would force them to help you study, too. Plus, Seungmin loves MCAT practice, so it’s a win-win.

To your surprise, he doesn’t jump at the opportunity like he typically does. Under normal circumstances, he would be scouring the living room for where he last left his flashcards. Instead, he says, “Why don’t you take a break?”

“A break? You, of all people, suggest that I take a break when you were just telling me about my bad study habits? Who are you, and what have you done with Seungmin?”

He rolls his eyes. “I didn’t realize you wanted to do physics that badly.”

“I don’t. This is weird from you though.” However, after a moment of contemplation: “Whatever. Pick a show to watch. I’m gonna draw.”

He selects House because he’s still Seungmin after all. This is the show that inspired him to go into medicine, and is, as he’s mentioned many times before, “the greatest show on the planet.” It’s entertaining, you admit, and you do like seeing all of the obscure medical cases Dr. Gregory House solves, but it’s a grim reminder of your parents’ dreams for you. With the dialogue of the characters echoing in your head, you sketch a frog sitting on top of a stack of pancakes. You initially bought your tablet for note taking, but it really is much better as a tool for art. 

“It’s always animals, plants, or dessert now,” Seungmin remarks, craning his head to get a better view while you continually pull your screen away. “What happened to your big fantasy pieces?”

“Rule one: no looking until I say so. Rule two: no questions unless I say so. Remember?”

He ignores you. “You used to do a lot of those things when you first moved in. With the crazy landscapes, guys with abs in crop tops, cat-ear ladies with fancy dresses, villains who you definitely wanted to—”

“I get it!” Your face is blazing. He makes your artistic—purely artistic—interests sound so much worse than they are. “I’ve just been busy with life, so I don’t have time to work on them anymore. Anyway, animals, plants, and desserts are cute.” In a smaller voice, you add, “And they make me happy.”

Just like pictures of a flayed cat makes him happy.

He goes quiet and lets Dr. House fill the air. While he pretends to be engrossed in the show, you turn back to your sketch to fix your frog’s eyes to be less downcast. No sad frogs allowed.

You don’t remember exactly when the dread began, but you do distinctly remember glancing over the syllabus for your genetics course and wanting to collapse. Each item was manageable by itself, but the totality of the class, of your future classes, of your future hurtled at you at full force. For so long, you convinced yourself you could do it. You would complain the whole time, but at the end, you would be addressed as ‘Doctor’ and you would be happy. Your parents would be happy, so you would be happy and realize that it was all worth it.

Even if you cried every night, it would be worth it. 

You took a deep breath, looked at the list of assigned textbooks, and pulled out your credit card. You went through more dire situations than this stupid course. This would be easy enough.

Two weeks after the art fiasco, you finally test out your new vegetable peeler on potatoes. Your friend gave you five for free since she was having trouble finishing the large amount she bought. While you stand over the sink, humming a song your neighbor has been practicing for the past week, Seungmin is hunched over the coffee table, doing something secretive with flashcards. He’s been working on a new set of them since the art fiasco, which makes no sense since you have a perfect set of a thousand that you bought online. But no, he has been toiling day and night to create handmade ones. You don’t even want to know where he got the supplies.

Well, you already know where and how, but if your neighbors come knocking, you know nothing.

In fear that you’ll “ruin the surprise,” you have been forbidden from even stepping foot onto the living room carpet. Really, there’s no point because you can get a glimpse if you lean across the island. Nevertheless, you keep your eyes on the growing pile of potato skins. You have five potatoes worth of fries to make.

Ten minutes later, when you have moved onto slicing, Seungmin declares that he’s done. He places the baking sheet you left on the island onto a chair and triumphantly sets down his masterpiece.

When you pick up the topmost one, you can’t help but smile. Alongside the words “absolute threshold” is a cartoon rabbit with alert ears. Tiny music notes are dotted on the top edge of the card. 

“To make your studies less stressful,” he says. 

You don’t have the heart to tell him that you’re always some degree of stressed but nevertheless thank him. The flashcards are adorable, even if Seungmin’s drawing skills aren’t the best. “Newton’s first law” has an indistinguishable creature kicking a ball, and “law of independent assortment” features some of the strangest plants you have ever seen.

“I love them.”

“What do you think of my art skills? Better than you, right?”

You laugh and turn back to your cutting board. “You should’ve considered art school instead of med school. Professional artist Seungmin,” you muse. “I can see you in galleries and museums.”

“Don’t forget the history textbooks. Why didn’t you consider art school? You would be perfect for video games or something.”

For some time, you did consider art school. You spent the first two years of high school daydreaming about sitting behind an easel, translating a model’s likeness onto paper. Perennial paint splatters on your jeans, permanent charcoal stains on your fingers—that was the only way you wanted to study human anatomy. 

“My parents. You know how it is. Can you season the fries in the bowl?”

While Seungmin dumps copious amounts of salt, pepper, and whatever random spices he picked from the cabinet, you reflect on your teenage self. A part of you knew that drawing would only be a hobby, but another part kept hoping your parents would come around. When Hyunjin’s parents announced he was going to study chemistry, your mom wondered why he didn’t choose art when he was such a good artist. In fact, half the neighborhood, whose children went into STEM fields one way or another, were shocked he chose chemistry. Of course, if their own kids had opted for non-STEM majors, they would have been livid. Just like your parents had been.

“Did you ever think about not going into medicine?” you ask as you add more potato slices into the bowl.

He adds a swirl of oil to the mix. “No. It’s all I ever wanted to do. I volunteered at the hospital in high school, got an internship at a clinic here. I was studying for the MCAT and then…”

And then the university’s outdated housing killed him. It sounds horrific when phrased like that, but it’s more truthful than “Promising Young Pre-med Student Kim Seungmin Dead After Apartment Fire,” as the city newspaper headlined. His student ID photo smiled earnestly at readers, and a recent picture showed him posing in a lab coat.

It hits you then. Seungmin is dead. You knew this logically; you saw the articles, passed by the vigil, and signed the student letter demanding better accommodations. Then you forgot his existence until you applied to live in this building and when he appeared in your bedroom, you forgot about his death. Despite witnessing him walk through walls and tiptoeing around his deceased status, Seungmin has never really been dead to you. He’s your roommate who sleeps in the living room, your study partner who loves all things related to biology, or your friend. He’s too alive to be anything else.

“Did you preheat the oven?” he asks, breaking you out of your spiraling thoughts. Your body went on autopilot, and now the baking sheet is covered in pale potato sticks.

You glance at the dark oven and head over to do what you should’ve done twenty minutes ago. “My bad.”

“You’re the one eating these. Can you even finish all this?”

It’s far too much, but what else were you going to do with five potatoes on the verge of going bad? You suppose you could have not accepted them from your friend. “I can try?” you say, more to convince yourself than him. “I’m no coward.”

“Really? Then why do you hide when we watch horror movies?”

“That’s different. Mario Kart while we wait?”

“I call Birdo.”

Despite his declaration, you’re the one playing Birdo while he settles for Waluigi. Seungmin gloats when he hits you with a red shell, laughs when you fall off the track, and celebrates when he gets first place. He’s practically corporeal, alight with hopes and dreams you wish were your own, but he’s only the echo of the past. Meanwhile, blood flows through your veins and oxygen into your lungs, yet you’re stuck in a potential future you don’t even want.

At the end of fall, between your human biology midterm and that stupid philosophy paper, you break. It’s during one of your MCAT practice exams, so you at least can cry at your desk. You can’t even cry without guilt; your mind immediately starts trying to reread the problem you’re stuck on through your tears, as if trigonometry will solve your crisis. 

It feels like an elephant is sitting on your chest. Every time you think you’ve calmed down enough to begin again, another wave of sobs overcomes you. Just holding your pencil makes your throat tighten.

“Are you okay?” Seungmin’s voice is slightly muffled by your bedroom door, but you doubt that a thin piece of wood concealed your cries.

You choke out, “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“... No.”

You swing open your door with sardonic fanfare, spreading your arms like a ringmaster. Seungmin makes no comment about your swollen eyes or your sniffles. You almost wish he had.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asks. He takes a tentative step into your room, and when you nod, he lets himself fully in. It’s been several months since he’s last been inside. Unmade bed, cluttered nightstand, paper-strewn desk—nothing much has changed. He sits on your chair, resting an arm on top of the throw blanket you’ve thrown over the back.

“I don’t know what there is to talk about,” you say after a moment of silence. “I hate class, I hate work, I hate my life. A breakdown has been long overdue.”

You stare at the floor, afraid to meet his gaze now that he’s seen you like this. Ever since you discovered Seungmin, you’ve crafted the perfect blasé attitude to accommodate your new living circumstances. He leaves you alone sometimes and stays cordoned off in the shared spaces to give you privacy, but you don’t break apart in your apartment for good reason. You’re open and raw like a bloody wound. Will he want to patch you up with bandaids, or will he pick and prod?

Pick and prod, you pray. Make some flippant remark about how easy you have it, how he wishes he could be in your position instead. Because if he does, then the situation must not be that bad.

Softly, Seungmin says, “What can I do to help?”

Your heart drops to your stomach. “I don’t know… I should probably get back to studying anyway.”

“Really? Are you serious?”

“What else am I supposed to do?” you snap. Seungmin at least has the decency to look sheepish. “The MCAT’s in July, and I don’t even understand half the things I’m supposed to know. I’m barely getting C’s in philosophy and art history because of it. That’s so humiliating.”

“Have you thought about, you know, not going to med school?”

A harsh laugh rips out of your throat. “Every single day. But it’s too late. I’ve already wasted four years, so what’s another four?” That doesn’t even include residency.

“You’d hate it.”

“Story of my life.”

The room goes quiet. Maybe you were too severe with your words, but how else do you explain it? 

“What if you became a medical illustrator?” he abruptly suggests. “You’d know exactly how to draw everything. It’s perfect for you. And it’s still STEM-related.”

It doesn’t matter if it’s in STEM. Your parents laid out your options very clearly: doctor or disappointment. Some career choices were less disappointing than others, but they would still be disappointments.

“I need to study,” you say.

He stands up from your rightful seat at your desk. Softly, so very softly, he says, “I’ll let you get back to it then.”

“Thank you.”

He shuts the door behind him and leaves you with your despair. True to your word, you return to your practice exam, this time without crying. Your mouth is dry the entire session, but you don’t dare drink any water in fear that rehydration will trigger your tears. It’s stupid but keeps you holding on. 

When you check your answers and review terminology, you refer to the set of flashcards Seungmin made for you. He didn’t expect you to use them, but his drawings have helped you better memorize the definitions. You shuffle through them, occasionally trying to figure out the relationship between whatever Seungmin drew and the word written. Other times—but not enough for your liking—you know exactly what they mean.

The rabbit from “absolute threshold” stares at you with lopsided eyes, and Mendel’s warped pea plants grow beneath your fingers. The whole world blurs.

A month after move-in, after too many beers and barbeque chips, you asked Seungmin, “Why do you haunt only me? You can travel through the whole building, but you’re only ever here.”

He gestures at the room with a sweeping flourish. “This used to be my apartment. Sort of. They changed the floor plan, but this is the approximate location of where I lived, so when you moved in, it felt like fate.”

“Ah, a med school sufferer to keep you company.”

He laughs, but it sounds insincere. “How drunk are you right now?”

You glance at the row of empty cans you lined up on the counter. One, two, three, four, five. Five and a half, if you count the one in your hand. “Pretty drunk, I think.”

“So you won’t remember what I tell you, right?”

“Probably not,” you lie. “What is it?”

With a sad smile on his face, he says, “I haunt you because it’s like seeing someone live the life I could’ve had. Would’ve had.”

Your outburst doesn’t go forgotten, but you and Seungmin dance around the topic with the grace of a seasoned ballerina. You show him your grocery hauls, he scolds you for buying expensive cookies. The two of you play Overcooked instead of Mario Kart and pretend that Overcooked will strengthen your friendship instead destroy it even further. Seungmin is really bad, embarrassingly so. 

“Are you going to the party this weekend?” he asks as he drops onions all over the floor. There’s no health department in the game.

“I would ask you to be more specific,” you say, “but we both know I’m not going to any parties. Go chop the onions.”

“You need friends.”

“I have friends. Who do you think keeps us giving us potatoes?”

He scoffs. “That’s not a friend. That’s an enemy. We need more dishes.”

While you wash a stack of dirty dishes, Seungmin dashes between prepping ingredients and watching the timer on the soups. As expected, he doesn’t take the pot off the stovetop quick enough, and soon enough the whole kitchen is in flames. You scream at him to get the fire extinguisher, he wades through the sea of onions, and the level ends with a single gold star.

You set your joycon down and lean your head back. “Three stars or nothing” is your motto when playing Overcooked, but perhaps you can make an exception for Seungmin.

“Why’d you ask me about a party?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Seems like a college student thing to ask. And a college student thing to do. Go to parties, I mean.”

“Not for us.” You stretch your arms and legs out, knocking your socked feet against the coffee table. “When have you ever seen me willingly leave the apartment?”

“Never,” he admits, “but you should enjoy your youth.”

Whatever mutual agreement you thought you and Seungmin had does not exist. You have long known that you would have to sacrifice your twenties for your future. There would be good moments among your struggles, but so many of your memories would be of test prep and studying. As your parents so eloquently put it, “You can draw after you retire.” 

“That’s funny coming from you,” you say. You wave a hand in front of his face and observe the way his eyebrows scrunch together. “Are you really Seungmin?”

“Do you know any other ghosts?”

“Do you actually regret dedicating so much time to studying?”

“No. I mean, I went out when I could, but you…” He mindlessly thumbs the buttons of the controller as he tries to find his words. “Well, maybe I do a little bit, but it was fulfilling. Or was going to be anyway. You’re miserable. I’ve never seen you without dark circles or eye bags.”

How needlessly observant of him. “Thanks. It’s the quintessential college look.”

“Take care of yourself.” He raises his joycon and nods at the TV. “Let’s go again. Three stars only.”

And just like that, you and Seungmin go back to pretending as if everything is fine, like the last few minutes were idle chatter about the weather. You yell instructions at him, and he retorts back with something snarky; all is well.

You suppose you should have realized why Seungmin asked you such out-of-character questions two weeks ago. Death anniversaries don’t typically go onto your calendar, but you could have made an exception for Seungmin. How did you forget? As you walk down the stairs, a wave of guilt washes over you.

The annual university-held vigil occurs on campus, but the apartment complex has their own small affair in the courtyard. Framed photos of the victims huddle together at the base of a half-wall. Already, there are several flowers and notes strewn about, and you add your own carnation to the pile. You have a note as well, and it burns your hand as you debate whether to leave it or not.

Twelve people died that night. “Only” twelve, as some papers reiterated. Twelve out of three hundred doesn’t seem too horrific given the state of the fire, but that’s still twelve people dead. Plenty more got injured trying to escape, and they aren’t honored at this memorial. The living don’t get commemorated—they live with the memories of the day, and that’s remembrance enough for the public.

“Hey.”

No one else is around, so you say, “Hey,” back to Seungmin. He disappeared for a few hours, and you assumed he would be gone until sunrise. In the days leading up to his death anniversary, he has grown increasingly depressed, looking vacantly out the window and mouthing words to himself. You idiotically thought he was just having one of those days.

“How are you holding up?” you ask.

“Fine, I guess. Good turn out this year,” he remarks as he kneels down to pick through the gifts. “The construction workers didn’t even show up to work because of superstition or something.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know, it’s just…” You wave the folded notebook paper in your hand. Maybe you should’ve bought some stationery after all. “Read this later. I’ll see you whenever.”

You gently place it beside your carnation, return back to your apartment, and lock yourself inside your room. It’s too quiet, and you’re too restless. Your head tells you to do practice problems to burn off your energy, but all you’ve been doing as of late is listen to your head.

As you sketch an anatomical heart—underneath a completely necessary and painstakingly accurate rendering of a male torso—your bones say that this is right. 

To Kim Seungmin, a star that went out too soon—

You deserved so much more than this. I don’t even know what else to say because nothing feels more appropriate. 

I’m living in your old apartment—where it used to be, at least—and I can’t help but feel that I’m living the life you should have had. Sometimes I can feel your presence when I’m studying. I can hear you reciting definitions and shuffling flashcards. When I’m really losing my mind, I can see you sitting on the couch watching House episodes with me. It’s comforting and terrifying.

You already know this, but I don’t want to go to med school. I hate it and I hate being a disappointment to my parents, but I hate being a disappointment to you the most. You should be in my place, so I thought I should try and complete your dream for you at the very least. I’m already miserable, so I should make the most of it. For a while, I thought this would make you happy, but it’s been making you sad and worried recently. I thought if I could make you happy, then it would be worth it, but I’m realizing it’s not, but I’m too scared to leave this path. Sometimes I don’t know who I am without med school looming over me, and it 

I wish we would’ve met earlier. You’re an amazing person, full of light and kindness. The world is darker without you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything that I’ve done and for everything that I didn’t do because you deserve so much better than whatever you’ve been given.

“Do you want to talk?”

Seungmin’s upside down face appears between you and the iPad you have been holding up with both arms. Philosophy review is simultaneously boring and maddening, but you have a final to be studying for. You should’ve started much earlier, but twenty-four hours of cramming has not failed you when it comes to general education elective courses yet.

“Not really,” you say as you push his face out of view. He’s corporeal at the moment, so your hand meets resistance rather than going right through. “I’m busy.”

“Did you apply for a ‘biomedical visualization’ program? That’s a medical illustrator thing, right?”

You don’t need to look at him to know he’s thrilled. Since the memorial, you began looking into medical illustrators as a backup plan. You only meant to learn about the basic requirements, but curiosity got the better of you, and you attended an online informational session. Seungmin overheard bits and pieces because of how thin the walls are, you got cagey when he asked, and he put his endless hours of free time into detective work. 

“I didn’t apply. I’m just looking around. Now go away.”

“The living room is a communal space. So you’re considering it then?”

You don’t respond and bring your iPad closer to your eyes. To read the tiny notes on the margins of your classmate’s notes, of course.

Seungmin cackles and claps his hands. “You are! This is good! Why are you so morose?”

“Because you interrupted my studying? I have less than ten hours to cover three months of content.”

“You’re deflecting. Are you worried about your parents?”

“Morose and deflecting,” you murmur. “Two gold stars for your vocabulary usage.”

“Are you?”

You shut your eyes, envisioning the stern faces of your parents when you announce over dinner your plans to spend your life not being a doctor. Their expressions morph from confusion to anger to grim when they realize how serious you are. 

Are you serious about this? You’re not even sure yourself. It feels like you’re in high school again, holding onto a shred of hope for a future you aren’t allowed to have.

“What if I lie to them?” you say. “I tell them I got into a school that’s super far away, go there, and return when I’ve firmly established myself as an illustrator or whatever I end up doing. It’ll be too late for them to do anything.”

“That’s one way to do it. But wouldn’t it be better if you were upfront?”

You groan and turn back to your classmate’s notes. What is it like, you wonder, to not be crushed by the weight of approval? What is it like to know you won’t be scorned for your choices? No matter what you do, someone—your parents or Seungmin—will be upset.

“Upset” is a very mild way to describe your parents’ reactions. After six cans of celebratory beer—you passed all of your classes this semester!—you called your parents to tell them good news. Somewhere between the silent congratulations and questions of your home arrival, you blurted out, “I think I’m gonna do biomedical visualization. Medical illustration. Art. It’s still medical-related, but not a doctor.”

And after a lengthy discussion filled with shouting, you’re not allowed to come home this year or ever again. CALL ENDED flashes on your screen, but you grip your phone so tightly you can feel your heartbeat in your fingertips. Your whole body is tense, flushed with indignation and shame. No tears come. You expected something like this but nothing to this extreme. Their words echo in your ears.

Ungrateful. Selfish. Disgrace. 

Logically, you know you’re none of those things, but you can’t help but feel they’re at least a little bit right. You sink into your desk chair and wait for the inevitable knock on your door. To step out of your own accord would be mortifying. 

“Are you okay?” asks Seungmin.

“I’ve been disowned in every way except legally,” you answer as you let him inside your room. “What do you think?”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s…”

It’s not fine, but your mouth started saying so by default. You perch on the edge of your bed and stare at the stack of practice books that have been untouched for two days on your dresser. They would belong better under your bed where they’ll be out of sight.

Suddenly insecure, you ask, “You’re not gonna leave me, right? You’ll still help me peel potatoes and let me know when my artisan cookies are on sale?”

He chuckles. “The only way you can get away from me is by moving or by graduating. I’ll be here. Instead of nagging you to study, I’ll critique your anatomy.”

“That’s against the rules.” Nevertheless, you smile at the thought of Seungmin hyperfixed at your artistic renderings and comparing them against pictures from a textbook. “Thanks.”

Seungmin smiles back, and he radiates so much warmth that you forget it’s winter.

EPILOGUE

“Honey, I’m home,” you call. 

You nearly trip over the door sill in your heels but catch yourself in time. Wearing heels to commencement is a bad idea for more reasons than one. Clutching your friend’s graduation bouquet, you flip on the light switch with the back of your hand and glance over your apartment. Other than the dozens of boxes scattered across the living room and kitchen, nothing else belongs to you; goodbye coffee table you stubbed your toes against too many times; goodbye peeling school-issued couch. You half-expected to see Seungmin lying on it, staring at the ceiling like he used to. 

“Seungmin, where are you?” When he doesn’t answer, you try again. “Anyone home?”

You wander around the small apartment, checking behind doors and furniture like you’re playing hide-and-seek. He’s nowhere to be found, and you go through the apartment again in a frenzy. He could be in a different part of the building, but he always knows when you’re looking for him.

“Where are you? Seungmin, this isn’t funny! I know you can hear me.”

It takes twenty minutes, but you eventually realize he’s gone for good. No goodbyes, no hugs, no teasing—he just waved you off to your ceremony and shut the front door. You knew he wouldn’t be able to help you move out, but you thought he would still be here when you returned. He researched additional art classes for you, suggested works for your portfolio, and consoled you whenever you were overwhelmed. It’s a knife to your heart that he’s not here.

In between tears that you don’t allow to fall from your eyes, you carry your boxes of belongings to your car. You have a new place to call home, but two perfectly nice housemates and a dog aren’t good replacements for a ghost who annoyed you from sunrise to sundown.

I hope you find this note eventually. I know we have the rule where I’m not supposed to go through your belongings, but since we’re not going to be roommates any longer, I hope you’re not too mad. Completely unrelated but you’re really good at Mario Kart. So good. Birdo was designed specifically for you.

Congratulations on graduating. You’ve worked hard this year. Could have worked harder sometimes but you did it! Relax a bit during your gap year and enjoy your youth. Those art classes will be easy for you. Biomed visualization will be easy after pre-med studies.

Stop rolling your eyes and sighing. You know I’m right.

I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to say goodbye. I know you wanted it, but I don’t think I could have handled it. The truth is that I was ready to go a couple months ago when you started compiling your portfolio. For two years, I didn’t know why I was still here. At first, I thought my unfinished business was about the circumstances of my death. (Stop wincing. I’m dead. It’s a fact.) Then the administration stepped up. They did the bare minimum, to be honest, but at least changes were made. When you turned up, I thought I was supposed to fulfill my dream of going to med school. Turns out, I still have no idea what exactly why I was here, but seeing you live the life you want and choose the future you want makes me feel like business is finished.

To L/N Y/N, a star that will keep shining for decades to come—

I’m so proud of you and everything you’ve done so far. There are so many opportunities waiting out there for you, so don’t be afraid to take any chances. I’ll be with you always.

#stray kids #skz #kim seungmin #seungmin #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #kim seungmin imagines #kim seungmin scenarios #kim seungmin x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids angst #skz angst #kim seungmin angst #seungmin angst #stray kids au #skz au #college au #20231201

[ros3ybabe]

Daily Check in - October 18th, 2023 🎀

Hello my lovelies <3

Here's a little update for today!! It feels nice to be posting again!

🩷 What I Ate Today -

Breakfast - southern style hashbrowns with ketchup, a cup of coffee

Pre Workout snack - one medium banana and a 3/4oz single serve cup of jiffy peanut butter, 1/4 scoop of preworkout (in water ofc)

Lunch - 1 large bowl of protein pasta w 2 slices of buttered bread, a coffee

Dinner - 1 bowl of spicy ramen with a small handful on shredded cheese

Snack - 1 bowl of mint chip ice cream

Extra - 3 cups of coffee TOTAL

Feels like a lot and I did go over my eating goal for the day but it is what it is, I had an emotionally rough day filled with a lot of crying, a therapy appointment, and a lot of calming down from my boyfriend over video call. Rough days happen, and I tend to let myself just feel the emotions in order to sleep easy and have a better next day!

🩷 Personal Accomplishments -

Made it to the gym, attempted a glute workout (left early due to frustration, lack of proerpr form, and to minimize risk of injury)

Wrote down everything I ate and my workouts in my new fitness and health journal

Showered

Did both morning and night skincare routines

journaled a little bit

brushed teeth

did a large load of laundry and put away all clean clothes

washed dishes

had a therapy appointment

cleaned up parts of room, put away new stuff

There were no academic accomplishments bit I am going to complete a good amount of homework before my cooking shift (for my cooking class) tomorrow. I've been trying to take it easy in a way that doesn't set me behind in my academics.

I broke down crying today with my boyfriend. I realized I've been feeling like such an imposter lately. Like I don't deserve all the good and all the accomplishments I've achieved. Like this life I'm living isn't real or this is the calm before some storm. I just feel so undeserving of everything. I feel inadequate, like I'm not good enough for a lot of thing. I feel like I'm perceived as this good daughter, good friend, good girlfriend, good employee, good student, good person but that it's not actually true? Though my boyfriend and my father have both reassured me that it is true and I am doing good. They've reminded me that I just need patience, discipline, and consistency in my habits and that everything is going to be and already is okay. I'm lucky to have such a loving boyfriend and such an awesome dad, too. The men in my life are the people I look up to most <3

🩷 Personal ToDos, Oct 19th -

morning + night skincare

morning cardio workout at the gym

read a chapter or two of a self help book

shower + brush teeth AM/PM

wash comforter + air dry

morning and night guided journal

morning stretching

Daily journal prompt

zoom call with boyfriend

sleep 6 to 8 hours

track all food and fitness in journal

complete 1 duolingo lesson

complete 1 busuu leson

complete 1 kanji review lesson

🩷 Academic ToDos, Oct 19th -

pre lab 8 quiz anatomy lab

lab 7 lab report anatomy lab

component 2 psyc class

nutrition chart: toddler nutrition class

quiz 10 psyc class

culinary nutrition ch 10 quiz

chapter 12 and 13 quiz nutrition class

My goal is to complete all of that between the time I wake up at 5am and 2pm with my morning routine, workout, meals, and getting ready for my cooking thing all in between. But I can do it, I'm not worried. I'll have the time to do it all! I just need to manage my time and not be on my phone as much.

I'm trying to get back into listening to podcasts and watching more producitve and healthy vlogs from youtubers I enjoy! I'm currently watching vlogs and content from Rebecca Jay, Michaela Bento, The Bliss Bean, LenaLifts, truly.jia, Study to Success, Lindie Botes (her earlier language videos), and Mikalya Mags. My favorite podcast is The 5AM Miracle: Healthy Productivity for High Acheivers by Jeff Sanders.

If you have any health, lifestyle, fitness, or productivity youtubers or podcast recommendations please comment them or inbox me so I can check them out!! I am always looking for new content to enjoy!!!

til next time lovelies 🩷

#pink pilates girl #pink pilates princess #self care #self development #self love #wonyoungism #health & fitness #it girl #mental health #physical health #that girl energy #that girl #it girl energy #clean girl #coquettecore #coquette girl #high value woman #green juice girl #pink academia #pink aesthetic #pink blog #college studyblr #studyblr #japanese langblr #langblr #health and fitness #university student #girlblog #girl blogger #girl blogging

[athleticbelly]

You were once an athlete. Not the best one in your school, but your physique definitely portrayed you as one. Lean muscle, strong legs, and endurance to match. You ate a lot to keep up with that physical activity.

Then you went to college. Classes took priority and your diet never changed. Not by much. Some of the healthier meals were replaced with hot pockets and ramen. You tried to work out, but your physical activity diminished when your friend group grew. You spent so much time socializing and enjoying the company of friends that it was only a matter of time until that waistline stopped being so trim. Pants a little tighter, shirts lifting up a bit more, underwear cutting in a little to uncomfortably. It was only when you hit your second year that you realized you had been gaining weight.

Once it started to warm up for spring and you started putting on your tank top you noticed how difficult it was to bring below your navel. That soft mound of flesh that is starting to hide your feet is in the way. A prod here, a grab there, and you realize you have really put on some weight. Yes the panic sets in and you started to think on ways to lose it, but you had an appearance to maintain with your friends. So you bailed on spring break to try and workout. That's when you met me.

Of course I was also trying to lose weight and build an athletic figure, but you showed up and blew me away. I was a little chubby with a small potbelly and thicker thighs, but you definitely had me outclassed by 30+ pounds. Your belly hung over your belt buckle. Your developing second chin was almost prominent. You breathed so heavily that I felt mine leave me because you took my breath away. And I had to have you.

So I introduced myself. We talked and parted ways to other corners of the gym. Eventually, over a few weeks, we got closer and talked more. You lost some weight and so did I. We were both honestly very motivational to each other. You could fit in some of your early college outfits and I could fit into some of my old uniforms.

But I missed how big you were. We started dating and you were so easily molded. We built up such a rapport and you trusted me so much that you didn't realize I was upping your portions. Now, with you going to the gym you did pack on more muscle, but there was equal parts fat to go with it. Your abs forever being hidden by a layer of chub. Your biceps large, but ultimately soft. And that round face stayed round. It was only when one night you brought up that you couldn't seem to lose weight that I decided to lay down the bombshell statement;

"I love you at any size, and I wouldn't mind more of you to love~"

And that's when I had you. You were cautious at first. We talked about it and explained further how I love how fat you were and how you are now, but I did admit I would prefer if you were more fat than fit. And we came to an agreement. If you didn't enjoy being fat in a year's time then I have to help you lose weight. So, I helped you enjoy it!

I baked and cooked all of your meals. Made shakes with whey protein, bananas, and peanut butter to quicken your gains with some added buttermilk to speeden things up. And the amount of fat, sweaty sex that showed my appreciation for the art form that is your body. You grew so fast over the course of half a year. 95+ pounds later and you couldn't see your feet! Your belly rested halfway on your too thick thighs, and not to mention how difficult it was to get you in a chair. You started to long for my cooking and even begged at times for me to feed you. Unfortunately for my own figure I got overzealous and didn't realize you could only handle so much food and drink. So I had to have some of my own. And it made a lot of my outfits too tight. Button up shirts had to always be unbuttoned and I had to resort to stretchy waistbands for all of my pants.

And then the year mark came. You could barely move you were so obese. You forgot about the deal, but I didn't. I reminded you and now here you are. Wondering if you enjoy the state you are in. A nearly immobile monolith of fat.

So how does it feel~? Being a former athlete and now a product of a nurturing partner~

#muscle chub #soft belly #fit to fat #feedism kink #fat admirer #soft feedism #diet sabotage #mutual gaining #weight gain kink #wg text

[jstryingtobesk1nee]

21/05/2024 wieiad

!i dont count c4ls because im really bad at doing it consistently!

i had an ok day, i cldve done better but honestly im pretty proud of myself for not giving into b1ng3 urges because i was having them LITERALLY all day so..

snack/dinner? 16:00

i had some mashed turnips wo butter or oil or anything, my mum made roast dinner for her and my siblings but i didnt want any so i ate the rest of the turnips

((est 30c4ls))

dinner 17:25

12 chicken gyoza with about a cup of chicken stock and some green tea. gyoza is literally my favourite safe food and ill say it to anyone who will listen, its the best.

((est 390-410c4ls))

snack/dessert 😔 18:35

chocolate protein goop. idk what else to say ab that. ive been making this pretty regularly, im like 95% sure its fairly low c4l but i cba to calculate it so i dont actually know 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️ also i know it looks like ACTUAL shit but i swear its yummy 😔🙏

((idk the est c4ls maybe like 300-400?? idfk dude))

snack/dessert no2 20:21

guess what? more protein goop. yummy in my tummy! dont worry guys i added strawberries this time (it made it worse) (pls dont judge me) (this is why i said i cldve done better.)

((like 50c4ls more than the first portion of gloop? bec of the strawberries?))

yea ok MAYBEEE i definitely ate more than i was supposed to and MAYBEEE i probably ate my whole c4l limit in the form of mysterious goo but like. shut up.

k stay safe bye 🫶

#disordered eating mention #3d relapse #tw b1nge #sk11ny #anasp0 #ana rexx #i will be a skeleton #ana twt #unhealthy weight loss #i just want to be thin #low cal diet #low cal meal #low cal restriction #ana log #ed c4ls #wieiad #tw skipping meals #meal log #4n4blr #tw 4n4rexia #high restriction #tw 3d shit #tw 3d vent #tw ana bløg #tw eating issues #@tw edd #eating disoder trigger warning #ed but not ed sheeran #ed dairy #ed blogg

[pudgecuddles]

Proof Of Concept: Mad Science

[It's been a really weird week so what better way to cope than to check in on your magnum opus again? lol]

Namjoon Breast Growth & WG, Jin Route:

Synopsis thus far: Namjoon works for Jin’s company where he was accidentally exposed to a chemical that, unbeknownst to Namjoon, causes breast growth and weight gain. He decides to call Jin for help only for his boss to take him deeper into the facility…

-

The elevator opened up to a mostly empty, blue walled hallway. Too dizzy to turn his head left or right, all Namjoon could immediately see was a handful of unlabeled metal doors. Interestingly, there were no door handles or visible card scanners to be found. Still helping Namjoon stay upright, Dr. Kim promptly walked them both to the closest door. As the doctor drew near, Namjoon heard a cheerful beep and the door slid open. Proximity sensors? “Here we go, Namjoon-ssi.” Dr. Kim led him to an actually very comfortable, if not pretty large, hospital cot. It was soft and smelt freshly washed. Namjoon flopped backwards in relief. Even with his eyes closed, his head was spinning. “Oh man… Thank you Dr. Kim.” Namjoon sighed. “A minute longer and I think I would have puked.” “It's the least I can do.” Dr. Kim’s voice came from the other side of the bed-like cot. “We want to make sure you’re comfortable during your stay here.” “Oh! You don’t need to worry about that.” Namjoon quickly assures. “I swear, I’ll be out of your hair and back to work as soon as my symptoms improve. I wouldn’t want to trouble you for longer than necessary.” “Hmm,” Dr. Kim didn’t pause in whatever he was fiddling with outside of Namjoon’s vision, “And how are you feeling right now, Namjoon-ssi?” The older man asked, brushing off what his new patient had just said. “Umm…” Namjoon took a second to give himself a small check up, “I’m really dizzy; vertigo, nausea, fever possibly? I’m pretty sweaty and uh- a bit bloated.” Glancing down at his middle, Namjoon saw an puffy bump where a flat stomach should've been. Dr. Kim looked over at that. “Yes, that all lines up. It’s been around 20 minutes after the exposure, are you sure you don’t feel anything else? Just nauseous?” “I really do-” A loud gurgle from Namjoon’s stomach cuts him off. “Oh! Oh god, I am so hungry.” A sudden rush of hunger overtakes Namjoon. “Good, good. That’s typical.” Dr. Kim smiles, reaching down to palpate Namjoon’s belly. His fingers pressed and prodded against the surprisingly soft flesh of his new tummy. “Yes. It seems to be coming long nicely.” Dr. Kim commented, giving Namjoon’s now plush belly a condescending pat, watching it barely wobble. “I-I’m sorry, Dr. Kim, but I don’t understand…” Namjoon whispered. “What’s happening to me?” “Let’s get an IV in you.” Dr. Kim ignored him. “The hunger indicates that your body is asking for nutrients.” “An IV? Can’t I just eat something?” Okay, so he wasn’t going to be getting much information out of the director. Namjoon understood that their client’s serums were supposed to be the private equivalent of state secrets. Of course he wouldn’t be allowed to know what they did… That was what’s happening, right? Dr. Kim began prepping an IV line, pulling out a bag of clear liquid. “Nil per os. Nothing by mouth, young man. Solid food could choke you if you ate too fast. We can’t compromise the process.” Process... Namjoon gulped, half out of nerves, half to swallow down the saliva produced from thinking about food.

“Y-you said no solid food, right? So, something like a protein shake or- or mashed potatoes would be okay then?” Dr. Kim paused, a thoughtful look forming on his face. “I can try it.” He assented, starting to put away the IV. “I’ll have to hook you up with a feeding tube, though. You wont be able to talk.” Any panic Namjoon felt at the thought of being muted for who knows how long they’ll have him hooked up, was washed away by another painful wave of hunger. “Ngh! I don’t care, Doctor! I just need it in me! Please I’m so hungry!” An intense, but unreadable expression appeared on Dr. Kim’s face. “Again.” Namjoon whined, “What?” “Ask me again.” “I’m hungry, Doctor. P-please give me the tube…” Namjoon teared up. The pain was getting worse. Dr. Kim harshly pinched a perky, hardened nipple, eliciting a cut off moan. “You will refer to me as, Sir. Understand?” Namjoon could taste bile in the back of his throat, but he was desperate at this point. “Sir! Please, I need the tube! I’m starving!” Dr. Kim chuckled mockingly, “Starving? With all of this hanging off of you?” He slapped Namjoon’s plush tummy. “Sure, I’ll play along. Here, open wide and don’t choke. We’ll try this without anesthesia first. I don’t want to add another variable to the experiment.” Namjoon’s mouth opened wide, eager to be filled up. The tube slid down impossibly easy, as if Namjoon’s gag reflex had been turned off for the day. The vague feeling of the rubber hitting his stomach was uncomfortable, but the younger man didn’t choke. Dr. Kim moved over to the other side of the actually quite large room. What Namjoon had originally thought was an exit turned out to be double doors to a large walk in refrigerator. Bags of clear fluid, blood, and plasma hung in organized rows. Dr. Kim ignored those however, instead reaching into a plastic bin. The doctor shuffled back over, a massive vacuum sealed bag of beigeish paste craddled in both arms. The thing was huge; four, maybe five liters of the stuff sloshed thickly with every step. Plopping it down on a metal table with a huff, Dr. Kim shook out his arms. “Oh, I have got to get a cart with wheels.” Namjoon absently tongued the bottom of the cold, smooth tube. Dr. Kim pulled the bag closer to the large, metal machine stood behind Namjoon’s bed, out of sight. After what sounded like metal creaking and plastic tearing, Namjoon felt the tube vibrate lightly. Sadly, he couldn’t taste the paste being pumped into him, but Namjoon could definitely feel it settling in his stomach. Finally, Namjoon moaned, eyes rolling into the back of his head. Feels so good... Dr. Kim smiled as Namjoon’s belly began to bloat outwards, the younger man’s eyes barely open. “Enjoying yourself there, Joon-ah?” The nickname sounded belittling coming out of the doctor’s mouth. Namjoon just hummed, suckling needlessly at the rubber between his plump lips.

-

It’s been a while since I’ve worked on this interactive story, and I’m not even sure if anyone would be interested in it at this point ^_^;

I still desperately want to finish it some day, hopefully before BTS finishes their military service… It’s just hard to find kinky motivation when you’re incapable of feeling arousal in any sense of the word.

Let me know if anyone would even still be interested in reading this!

It will contain 4 routes, 15 branches and 30 endings with a hopeful update for a 5th route featuring JK in the future. I would honestly consider this my most intensive project to date.

Happy to get out this little preview at least!

#pudgeprojects #pudgepreview #// mad science #bts feederism

[brophigenia]

never met a man who gets it like you do

“So,” Blue said to him over their morning breakfast— yogurt for her, the fruity dregs for him, plus a mug the size of a small butter churn full of black coffee to prepare her for a long day at the public defenders’ office. “I think you should have sex with Ronan.” 

“What.” Gansey replied, softly owlish in his wireframes with all his muscles out, shirtless at the table that in the mornings he called the breakfast nook but was actually just the table they ate all their meals on.

Life in their matchbook apartment revolves around that table. He was reading the paper (the finance section) idly. Later, he’d make himself a plateful of scrambled eggs. For now, he was still mostly asleep, sitting up like a prop to well-wish his partner out the door. 

Blue’s cell phone was going off, chirruping insistently. She took one last big spoonful of strawberry-flavored dairy goodness and kissed her fingertips before she answered Blue Sargent, pressing them to his mouth as she passed on her way to defend the disenfranchised masses. 

“What.” Gansey mumbled to himself again, and then got up to go water all his plants. Their apartment resembled some kind of strange urban jungle, with greenery lush and alive on every possible surface. On their tiny balcony, he had a potted lemon tree that lived in their bathroom on winter nights but thrived now in the summertime light, fruited and vital. He liked it— being surrounded by so much life. 

He was a gentleman of leisure; he spent his days trading stocks and caring for his plants and going to the gym and working idly on his thesis. He’d be a PhD sooner or later— Dr. Richard Campbell Gansey III. For now, he was content to be just this— just Gansey. 

What, he texted Blue for good measure, before starting in on his morning dose of protein in the form of expertly-scrambled eggs. It was the only thing he knew how to cook without fail. He and Helen used to eat platefuls at night when they were too polite to wake up the housekeeper but too wracked by growth spurts to go hungry.  Blue didn’t respond except to send him a meme about capitalism. He forwarded it to Adam, who sent back funny, because he was too serious and too Adam to ever type out lol.

#gangsey #trc fic #ronan lynch #ronan lynch/gansey #ronan lynch/adam parrish #ronsey #bluesey #blue sargent/richard gansey iii #blue/gansey/henry

[firefly-sky]

tw for eating disorder mentions-it’s a headcanon of mine regarding kyle

i know i normally don’t agree with some angst thoughts but i do think if any of the boys were to develop some form of an ed it would be kyle. i feel like once he starts working out because he feels insecure about himself (i headcanon that in middle school and freshman year or so all of the calories kyle ate went to his eight instead of anything else, so he ended up being pretty tall and lanky for a bit with almost no visible muscle (doesn’t mean he’s not strong, just means it doesn’t show physically) and arguably, he’s one of the more insecure out of the boys about certain things. his hair. his social status. his physical appearance (the list no doubt left some sort of mental scar on him) and when he realized nothing was working he kinda figured it was what he was eating instead of where it all went. so he probably became ver food insecure. i feel like it would either end up being a binging process where he would binge eat mainly meats at dinner and a lot of protein because that usually helps with gaining muscle. but then he probably just ends up feeling like shit because he literally stuffed himself to the point he feels borderline sick and then he tries to ‘burn it all out’ thinking that would work. it doesn’t and he probably has to work through it to maintain healthier eating habits. But then when he actually gained muscle and the body he wanted he was scared he wouldn’t be able to keep it. so i feel like he grows very food conscious. he honestly would probably keep track of what he ate and when. he makes a note to burn it all out and when he eats something he seems unhealthy he usually ends up skipping a meal the next day to ‘compensate’. it lasts into his senior year until someone notices and his mom finds out. she obviously freaks out and then he finally just breaks down about everything.

i don’t think he would have the greatest relationship with food in his teenage years. especially since i think he would have a bigger appetite (he definitely would if we’re comparing his nine year old self to a teenager going through growth spurts) and cartman probably tears into him for it. i think that would honestly get to him. a side headcanon i have is that words tend to cut him a lot deeper than he lets on. he’s not a pussy but someones comment about his physical appearance or something he’s insecure about rips into him. and it kinda just festers there until it explodes out. which is why he started exercising as well because now he probably just runs to burn it off. but yeah. if any of the boys were to have an unhealthy relationship with food i think it would be kyle.

#south park #kyle broflovski #tw eating disorder #south park kyle broflovski #kyle broflovski south park #south park kyle #kyle south park #sp kyle broflovski #kyle broflovski sp #sp kyle #kyle sp #kyle broflovski headcanons #south park headcanons

[harrowharks-iliac-crest]

Day One

Regarding Nona—Hot Sauce is watchful—The City has a bad day—Nona gets a bedtime story—Five days until the Tomb opens.

Some kind of log. Some kind of countdown. The tomb will open! Is the whole plot of this book (well, Nona's part, anyway) just over five days?

Because, I assume, Alecto the Ninth would start when the tomb opens - I think it said so at the end of Harrow the Ninth.

Let's see.

1

“I like it. I like the water, I like her hands.” “Her hands?” “They’re the things around me—maybe they’re my hands.” The pencil scratched loudly on the paper. “How about the face?” “It’s the picture face.” The sketch they’d made for her, the one locked in the secret drawer where they put all the really interesting things,

Nona is recounting a dream, or a vision. The water could be water from the River, or water surrounding the Locked Tomb - the person whose hands and face she sees is the person on the picture. Whose picture?

Gideon? Harrow? Wake? Alecto?

I have nothing to go on here, so it remains open.

Being the worm with problems did not worry her. Just being able to dress herself was charming. In the bad old days she used to have to be helped even with the nightshirt, because she couldn’t be trusted not to get stuck with it halfway over her head and get all hot and upset from claustrophobia. It was incredibly important that she not get upset like that again. She had only ever had two tantrums in her life, but it would be humiliating to have a third.

They weren't wrong. I fucking love Nona already. Worm with problems? Getting stuck in clothes and having a meltdown? I relate.

But all Camilla said was, “Don’t hyperextend,” crushingly, and worse, “Go see if Pyrrha needs help with breakfast.”

Okay, so we have Camilla and Pyrrha - there were three mentioned in HtN's epilogue, and I assumed it was Camilla, Coronabeth and Judith, since those three stuck together for the duration of HtN. Apparently, I was wrong.

She hedged cunningly. “At least please can you write down, I love you, Palamedes, please, from me? At least write, I love you, Palamedes, from Nona.”

Palamedes! Is Camilla writing things down for him...? For the future?

There was thin blue light coming through the joins in the curtains, and an orange glow from the worn-out hot plate mostly blocked by the other person she lived with.

Pyrrha. "The other person"... does that mean...??

She counted up the tally marks and said, “That’s the seventh one this month. But that’s not fair when you keep making them. Palamedes will say you’re skewing the data.”

Palamedes is here referred to as an active resident...!!...

Nona ate while Pyrrha brushed out her hair in short, brisk strokes, letting its fine black sheets fall over Nona’s shoulders.

Noting the colour black here; not red, like I'd theorised from just seeing the cover. Black hair opens up a whole new other realm of possibilities. Could Nona be living in Harrow's body? Pyrrha's presence suggests this might be the case - as she was with Harrow's body at the end of the last book; or, once again, it could be someone entirely different. Perhaps they're even dyeing her hair.

Camilla said unhappily, “Eggs? Have we not invented a new protein?” which meant it wasn’t Camilla at all. The easiest way of telling who was who was in the eyes.

And there it is - confirmation of what I was suspecting! Camilla and Palamedes have achieved some form of Lyctorhood, Palamedes is alive in Camilla's body!!

Yaaaaay!! My boy is BACK and I predicted correctly! Didn't think it would have already happened at this point, but hey, I'm not complaining.

Oh, but this bit is interesting as well, right after:

Palamedes had soft cool eyes of brownish grey, like bare ground in the cold mornings when Nona had been little,

So Nona has some childhood memories - are they hers, or her body's? Does the distinction matter? Yeah of course it does - if Nona has her own life and her own memories, it shouldn't be that hard to figure out who she is - they still don't know. If she's hijacked someone else's body, doesn't know who she is and is remembering someone else's childhood, that would be a very different story altogether.

Moving on:

“Then this is our last chance to make a difference. Give us orders, Commander.” Pyrrha was audibly chewing. “Stopped being that when I died, Palamedes. It was a courtesy title, anyway, and there’s an embarrassment of commanders here if you want ’em.” “Pyrrha,” he said, “why are they running now? Why would Blood of Eden run when they have the best hand they were ever dealt? Why would they run when common sense, good tactics, and foreknowledge must tell them all that this is the best moment to make a stand? The time you’ve spent—the insights you’ve had that nobody else has been privy to—and you’re truly telling me you don’t even have an inkling?”

This is really interesting - are they with the Blood of Eden or not? They are discussing tactics, as the area they're living in is clearly being fought over. Pyrrha wants to run away, Palamedes wants to save people - a bit of a deadlock.

Pyrrha balanced a mirror on the table and shaved her face. Nona loved the clean, bright smell of shaving soap, and to see Pyrrha swiftly and expertly scrape the dark russet-brown stubble off her cheeks and from around her mouth, and the little wet red marks that appeared. When she reached over to touch one freshly smooth cheek, the marks were already wrinkling up and disappearing.

Interesting - not only the gender stuff going on here, but that Pyrrha clearly still has some Lyctoral powers despite Gideon having perished in the River. Do Camilla and Palamedes have the same?

That was the whole problem, wasn’t it? Nona wouldn’t cough even if the wind blew the smoke straight into her face, and Pyrrha wouldn’t burn any colour other than her deep cool brown.

Points for Nona being in Harrow's body, also with Lyctoral powers. Where's Gideon Nav in all this?

They have protocols for going out - hiding, waiting, code words. Camilla wants to fight - Heralds? Are the Resurrection Beasts still after them? I suppose they would be, if they hunt Lyctors, and there's three right here, even though none of them are "standard" Lyctors.

What a great chapter, a great start. I can't wait to read more.

#nona the ninth #nona the ninth liveblog #ntn liveblog #tlt liveblog #ntn spoilers #nona the ninth spoilers #tlt spoilers #the locked tomb #the locked tomb liveblog #the locked tomb spoilers

[honeysuckle-venom]

So. I actually started a lot of lifestyle changes about a month ago, shortly after getting my MRI results and checking in with my therapist a bit. I felt 95% sure the hepatologist would tell me I needed to lose weight, and I knew that if I hadn't started at least a little bit on that path before seeing her I would be even more triggered by being told that. Once I did, unsurprisingly, get told that on Monday I further cemented some of those changes and got a bit stricter about certain things, but in general this has been in the works for a little over a month.

I'm basically dieting, I guess, except I'm trying to be healthy about it and make "lifestyle changes" instead of like going on paleo or whatever. The thing is, I don't believe in dieting. I detest diet culture, I hate moralizing about food and fatphobia and all of that bullshit. I love the anti-diet and fat liberation movements, and while I never fully recovered from my eating disorder, that lense helped me more than any other form of treatment ever has. I am, generally speaking, morally opposed to a lot of what I'm doing right now. But I also need to do it, because I don't want to risk tumor growth and complications or surgery. And I know going into it with this specific motivation and attitude is different than just deciding to diet because I think I need to be skinny to be pretty or whatever, that I'm doing something medically necessary and not actually betraying my values, but it doesn't always feel that way, and that struggle is very hard.

I also don't know how to talk about what I'm doing without using diet culture terms and concepts at times. But I need to be able to talk about this whole experience on my blog, because it's kind of taking over my life atm. So I will do my best to warn for things and I will ALWAYS at the very least use the tag "weight loss cw" on all posts related to this, because I don't want to be irresponsible or trigger people, but I also need to be able to talk about my life.

So. Below this is where I really start talking about what I'm doing and how it feels. Warning for some diet culture language, discussion of restricting certain foods, exercise, food journaling, nutritionists, intentional weight loss, and other related topics. No numbers, but this is potentially more triggering than posts related to my food issues have been in the past because I do discuss specific behaviors.

So. For the past month I've been attempting to lose weight. The current strategies I've employed include: exercising every day, keeping track of what I eat in a food journal, and cutting out a lot of "unhealthy" foods. I hate even saying that, I believe that all foods have a place in a healthy diet (and also that health isn't a moral obligation but that's a separate though related issue). But! I am doing a specific thing and don't have better language to talk about it! Saying "less nutritionally dense foods" just sounds stupid so, whatever. "Unhealthy" or "less healthy" it is for now. The biggest change is I'm not eating refined carbs 90% of the time. There's room for a little bit of them but not much. I'm trying to get a lot of protein, fiber, and healthy fats. Lots of vegetables and legumes and whole grains and whatnot. The good news for me is that I actually already really like a lot of those foods. Lentils are one of my favorite foods of all time, I like all beans, I like most vegetables, I like farro and brown rice, I like carrots and hummus, I like all fruits except grapefruits, etc. I enjoy the foods I do get to eat. So that's nice. But even though I ate all of those things before, these days it's all I eat pretty much. I used to also eat potato chips and m&m's and things like that. But I got rid of all of that stuff and haven't had it in over a month.

I'm also exercising every day. So far it's been primarily on my exercise bike that I have at home, because it has a desk attached and I can distract myself on my computer while I bike, because I HATE exercise. I just hate it. I hate being gross and sweaty and feeling like my heart's pounding and I can't breathe, but that's the fucking point lol. My muscles hurt and sweat drips down my face and it's just miserable. But as of today my dad and I have joined the local community center, which has a pool. Swimming is the one form of exercise I like. You don't feel how sweaty you are because you're in the water, your joints don't hurt, you can pretend to be a mermaid. It's so much better. So that's really good news. Hopefully I'll swim a few times a week and use the bike on the other days, and that will make everything more pleasant and also use more muscles than just my legs on the bike.

The thing is, it's actually not that hard to eat this way? My brain is obsessed with food rules, and has been since I was literally in preschool. I have always had various rules around food. Adjusting those rules to be more permissive is incredibly difficult, but adjusting them to be stricter? Not hard. I'm not tempted to "fall off the wagon" or whatever, because those foods have entered a space in my brain called "forbidden" and so I can't even imagine eating them without an alarm blaring in my head. And that's dangerous. The thing that is hard about what I'm doing is I know I'm in relapse zone, but I don't know how to not fucking be there when I'm trying to lose weight. I'm spending hours and hours each day obsessing about food and exercise, planning what to eat next, researching nutrition information and vegan recipes, etc etc etc. It sucks. I get trapped in these awful spirals and it's just all-encompassing. I've managed to avoid the worst behaviors: I haven't looked up fitspo even though I've had strong urges to do so, I mostly manage to avoid counting calories, and I don't let myself look at the scale. My therapist takes my weight once a week but I don't look. I'm trying to keep things on the healthier side, to not just full on relapse. But it's really, really fucking difficult to do both at the same time. I don't know how to find the balance yet.

The good news is that I found a nutritionist who I think shares a lot of my values and is willing to support me with weight loss, which I was worried wouldn't be possible. Bc all the anti-diet folks don't do weight loss at all, and all the weight loss people are...evil? Yeah, evil. But I really feel the need for professional support, even more than just my therapist, and so I didn't know what to do. But I think I found someone. I haven't met with her yet, but I've gotten in touch and hopefully we'll find a time for next week and I'll be able to update with how she is. Because this is really hard, and trying to balance the physical and mental without falling off a cliff is proving impossible without a lot of help. I have good help from my therapist, but if I could have some additional support it would be a good thing. So fingers crossed for that.

#my post #text post #weight loss cw

[mostly-mundane-atla]

Is there anything you think we should know about cooking or food sharing for the Avatar? I was thinking about Aang needing either a second meal prepared or to grab his food before meat is added.

FYI. I just cut out a random anecdote about my sister. So if it’s still there, my device is glitching on tumblr again. Sorry about that.

For traditional circumpolar cooking, Aang would probably need his own meal. While many cultures ate grains (most commonly in the form of bread, cooked rice, and occasionally table beer with very little alcohol content or similar beverages) as the core of their diet, but the Circumpolar peoples had no native grains and lived in an environment where it was more sustainable to eat meat and fats as the core of the diet rather than carb-rich tubers. That's not to say there's nothing a vegetarian could eat, after all eggs, greens, berries, and tubers we also collected and eaten regularly and many tundra plants can be processed into flavorful and healing tisanes, providing a list of beverage options as well, but many foods would require substitution of main ingredients or even vegetarian approximations. To bring that grains vs meat core of the diet discussion up again, being a vegetarian around Circumpolar foods and like having a wheat allergy and being hosted in a place where most foods are made of or with wheat flour. There are still going to be foods you can eat, but probably not enough to replace all the ones you can't.

Aang in such a situation would probably need approximations that replace any non-egg protein (and fish eggs are typically harvested from fish killed for food rather than gathered like bird eggs, so the kind of eggs he'd be able to eat are limitted) and fats with plant-based or at least non-meat alternatives. Stuff like bean soup instead of duck soup, butter instead of seal oil, dried mushroom slices instead of paniqtaq, tofu instead of fresh fish, rennet-free cheese instead of maktak. He might also need to make up for nutrients like iron and vitamin C that he would miss from not eating x or y meat product regularly. As long as Aang or whoever might cook for him has access to these types of alternatives, there's no reason he'd have to be excluded from eating as a social practice nor should he have any nutritional deficiencies.

#response #eskimo on main

[anewkindofme]

TW:ED

A lot of people kind of headcanon sam Winchester as having an ED. So, I was wondering if you maybe agree with that and if so, do you think it’s something he takes with him into little space? Also, if he does have it as a little as well, do you have any headcanons about how dean deals with it?

Also if you need ideas for Damon and Stefan: maybe Stefan takes his toy somewhere Damon told him not to, he loses it and freaks out but doesn’t tell Damon, and eventually Damon finds out and fixes everything?

Ask me for headcanons on characters from my fandom list!

Thank you for the idea for Defan!

As for the Winchesters…

TW: major discussion of eating disorders…

I think both of them have different forms of an eating disorder.

Dean has an issue with binge eating. It stems from at times not knowing where his next meal would come from as a child. If food was scarce while John was gone, he of course gave it to Sammy. (Though don’t get me started on the time when Sam threw a tantrum about the cereal, Dean threw out the spaghettios. He would’ve eaten them for sure…) He also is just so used to eating junk. Pie is less filling, so he had to eat more of it.

He eats when he’s sad. He eats when there’s a victory. He eats when he’s angry. Even if he’s not hungry, he just eats.

Meanwhile, even the food that Sam ate growing up was all junk and I’m sure he got sick of it. In spite of all the younger Sams being regular size, Sam says this in S1…

Which I know is where a lot of the “Sam has an eating disorder” stems from. I do think there may have been a period where Sam was overweight and we just didn’t see it. Or, I could buy that he went to a clinic after he left for Stanford and they were like “your diet is horrific”. And he spiraled into a health kick after that, which lead to him scared to touch that junk.

I think overall, Dean supports Sam wanting to eat healthier, especially when he’s Little. However, he probably tries to overfeed him as he’s so skinny. Then Sam doesn’t want to eat because he’s self-conscious. Cue tantrums and I can even see Dean losing his cool.

I think it takes a long time before they both realize their relationship with food isn’t healthy. Sam starts going to therapy for other issues and his therapist points out it’s not healthy that he’s so obsessed with calories and wanting to survive off protein shakes and salad. Then when she talks to Dean, he explains how he’s been handling it and the therapist is like…

So, they both have work to do.

#tw: eating disorders #sfw agere #sfw regressor #sfw age regression #sfw regression #sfw littlespace #little sam winchester #caregiver dean winchester #little stefan salvatore #caregiver damon salvatore #spn #supernatural #anon asks #asked and answered

[princesspumpkinseed]

This looks so near and tidy, doesn't it? But I promise you that this was not all that I ate today. I used to be (and am still) obsessed with how "tidy" my food looked - according to me, gluttony was found in the spaces between the three prescribed mealtimes. However, it was thanks to my morning honey matcha that I had a calm enough stomach for yoga. My coffee and advent chocolate helped me to focus on my form and enjoyment during strength training, rather than the 10 minutes left until lunch, two satsumas and a protein yoghurt preceded my late afternoon stroll, and I'm sure that the good night's sleep I receive this evening will be thanks to my lack of hunger after two portions of semolina. Art, exercise, nature, friends, curiosity, wonder, beauty, spirit, and intelligence are worth more than pretty dishes.

I value my passions more than my food diary.

Instagram: Isabelle_whitby Blog: https://izzywhitby.blogspot.com/

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