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#and probably more sugar than I’d healthy!
whiskeynwriting · 1 year
Note
I can’t help but imagining jack and baby cakes getting a tiny little cowboy hat for their baby
This is seriously such a cute idea, omg
A Blessing
Agent Daddy Whiskey x Female Reader
Word Count: 3.2k
Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)
Dirty talk, praise kink, size kink, daddy kink (what’s new), breeding kink (ooh this is new), lactation kink (this is new too!), talk of pregnancy, unprotected vaginal sex, soft dom daddy whiskey, very brief mentions of loss/death
A/N: I'm so in love with him I can't stand it.
Not beta-read, read at your own risk my friends
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In your opinion, there wasn’t a better way to tell him. After you found out yourself, it was only a matter of time before he found out, too. And you didn’t want it to be by accident, and you didn’t want him to wait. The moment just flowed so freely, his words sparking something inside of you.
“From now on, sugar,” When he looked up into your eyes, your smaller frame sitting snugly on his lap, you were able to see everything. Every bit of your husband’s love and genuine care on display. “It’s just you and me.” 
Swallowing, you felt your anxiety fizzle through your veins, excitement and worry all wrapped into one. And he noticed your change in expression, his own now frowning a bit. “Well… maybe not just you and me.” 
Almost nervously, he laughs. Feeling unsure. “What do you mean? Teddy?”
Your new puppy is already asleep in his crate, though it pains you to see. You can’t wait until he’s old enough to sleep on the bed with you.
“No… not exactly.” Giggling nervously, you sigh, looking down. 
“Honey, what’s wrong?”
“Jack,” Looking back up into his eyes, you take a deep breath, deciding to be forward with him. “I’m pregnant, baby.”
Immediately, the muscles in his face drop, a look of tender shock washing over him. Slowly, his head moves back, getting a better look at you.
“No, you’re not.” He says blankly, eyes searching your own for any sense of hesitation.
Smiling brightly, you nod. “Yeah, I am.” 
“What, I mean, you…” Those warm brown eyes then drop down to your tummy, staring dumbly at you. “Really? Are you s-sure?” 
Internally, his heart is racing, throat going dry as he processes this. I’m gonna be a dad?
“Yes, baby. I’m sure. I took like ten tests.” You’re laughing now, hands holding his cheeks to lift his eyeline to you. “I told you I’d give you babies, honey.” 
“I can’t believe this.” All at once, his emotions hit the surface, a gentle wetness forming on his lower lashline. “Baby, oh my god.” 
Leaning forward, he wraps his arms around you, face resting against your chest. It’s a tight embrace, forcing your body against his. He can’t even describe all of the emotions he’s feeling right now. Something between pride and disbelief and gratitude and love. Always so much love for you.
“How, how far along are you?” Chuckling, he shakes his head, kissing your covered chest. “Babycakes, I can’t believe it. I can’t believe this.” 
“I’m not sure.” Lowering yourself, you turn, resting your cheek on the top of his head while stroking his hair. “No more than a few weeks; a little over a month, probably.” 
“Well, let’s schedule you a doctor’s appointment, sweetheart. Let’s make sure you’re okay, that everything is ready.”
“Ready?” You giggle, looking down at him. 
“Well, yeah! We gotta make sure they’re healthy, make sure you’re healthy. Figure out how far along you are and start planning. You know, I’ve always thought about a ranch-themed nursery.”
This time, a big-bellied laugh escapes you. “Of course you have.” 
“Honey, we’re gonna have a baby.” 
While the two of you have talked about kids before, he never really came to terms with the fact that it would happen again. Ever since losing his first wife Anna, and their unborn son Rhett, he didn’t think it was possible to be gifted such a blessing again. But here you are, giving him everything he could ever want, giving him the entire goddamn world. 
“I’ll always be here, sweetheart. I’ll always protect you, provide for you - you know that, don’t you?” Immediately, worry consumes him, worry and determination. He won’t let what happened to them happen to you. You’re the most precious thing he’s ever had, he won’t ever lose you. 
“Of course, I do.” Kissing the tip of his nose, you smile. “You made those promises to me on the day of our wedding. But I knew it before then, too.” 
Your husband then sighs, sucking in a deep breath shortly thereafter. He’s holding onto you like he’ll never let you go. And he never will. 
“I know this is obviously really soon, but…” 
Jack’s eyes are on you as you speak, his attention unwavering. He can’t believe you’re his wife, can’t believe you’re going to be the mother of his child.
“Do any names come to mind?” You’ve discussed names before, but you’re wondering if any stand out to him now.
He nods, smiling. “You know I like Henry and Jasper.” 
At this, you hum. You’ve always loved the name Henry, and have had a fondness for the name Jasper since he introduced it to you. “And for a girl?” 
“Rowan or Violet.” Jack says firmly, “I love those names.” This makes you grin; you’d introduced him to both of them.  
“Jack?”
“Hm?” He’s still gazing up at you, resting his chin gently on your chest. The expression on his handsome face is entirely lovestruck, in absolute awe of the vision of you. “What is it, baby?” His hands are caressing your back, fingers tracing small, delicate circles.
“I love you.”
“I love you more than anything, baby doll.” He looks like such a puppy right now, staring at you with an incredible amount of adoration. “I can’t believe you’re giving me a baby.”
Grinning excitedly, you whisper, “What do you want it to be?”
“I don’t care.” Comes his immediate answer, shaking his head briefly. “I don’t care at all, not a single bit, baby. I just want ‘em, want a little kid runnin’ around here that’s half you, half me.”
“Just one?” You tease, smiling. And you’re still running your fingers through his hair, heart beating profoundly.
“As many as you’ll let us have, honey.” He tells you wholeheartedly. And then he releases another breath, and quite dramatically. Dropping his head, he kisses your chest, more passionately this time. “Honey, you’re going to look so beautiful with our baby.” 
One of his hands then retracts, sliding over your pelvis, thumb brushing against your lower belly. Truly, he can’t wait to see it, your stunning body growing from his baby. He can’t believe you want this; if only he knew how proud you were to have it. What a blessing.
“You think so, daddy?” 
Something about the moment shifts from sweet to sensual, Jack’s mouth slowly moving over you. Mhm is all he says in response, mumbling against your chest. 
“You know,” He then says, that southern voice growing deep. “I was wondering why you weren’t drinkin’ tonight.” 
“Yeah, it’s because I’m carrying your baby.”
“Oh, honey.” Closing his eyes, he forces out a heavy breath. “Say it again.”
“What? That I have your baby in me?” It’s said in a teasing voice; you love how he’s responding to this. 
Lifting his head, he captures your lips in a passionate kiss, one you return with overt happiness. Jack is absolutely overjoyed to hear this, all of it. And if it’s even possible, it’s made him fall that much harder for you. 
“Babycakes,” Just like that, his hands are sliding down to your ass, gripping your firmly while he groans. Sliding his face over your clothed breasts, he coos quietly. “Daddy wants you.” 
“Yeah?”
Now that you’re thinking about it, tonight was the perfect time to tell him - on New Year’s Eve, on the one-year anniversary of your engagement. You swear, life with him is like a fairy tale. 
“Baby, come here.” Jack’s mouth has moved up to your neck, his hands securing themselves to the bottom of your thighs while he stands up. 
Lifting you with him, he revels in the way you cling to his body, holding onto the sturdiness of him. You can feel the muscles in his upper back and arms, your own wrapping around his neck. Your thighs squeeze his waist, feeling the broadness of his palms slide up to your ass. 
“You’re mine? Huh?” He asks, turning his head to kiss your cheek. 
After striding down the hall, he nudged open your bedroom door, now lowering you to the bed. But his body doesn’t leave you, it covers you, crawling over your smaller form. 
Breathing out a deep sigh, he gazes down at you, a predatory look in his eyes. “Say it.” 
“I’m yours.” Already, you feel drunk on him, on this new feeling. Reaching out, you hold his face. And because of your compliance, he leans into your hold, coming down to kiss you. 
“Oh, baby, let me love on you.” Turning his head, he rubs his forehead over your chin, a gentle and loving nudge. “Daddy wants to touch you.”
Right now, all he’s thinking about is the beauty of your body. You were a gorgeous thing before, and he never thought you could be more amazing than you already were. But somehow, you are. Somehow, you’ve managed to mesmerize him even more. 
You let him move you, let him do whatever he wants. Gentle hands remove your clothing, leaving you bare while he remains clothed. He’s not focusing on himself, he’s focusing on you. 
Jack’s strong hands run down your sides while he sighs, eyes trailing over your naked form. Immediately, he leans down, lips meeting your lower belly. He kisses you softly, humming happily, rubbing your hips while he does it.
“Baby…” He’s already being so sweet, you can’t wait to see how he acts when you really have a belly.
Reaching down, your fingers slide easily through his hair, Jack’s handsome face relaxed in contentment. He feels warm, touching you softly. To get closer to your skin he leans back, lifting his shirt from his body. And then he’s returning to you, face snuggling into the slope of your neck. His one arm keeps him up while his other lays over your body, keeping a hand on your tummy. 
“You’re my girl, honey.” The curve of his nose slides along your neck, knocking your head to the side ever so gently. “Say it to me.”
Smiling, you lift your hands, holding the sides of his face. “I’m your girl, baby.”
“That’s right, honey.” He’s smiling that gorgeous smile, the one that made you fall for him. “You’re so pretty, babycakes. So beautiful, you know that?”
“Mhm.” Nodding, you keep your grin, melting beneath his praise. 
“Then say it.” He softly demands, whispering into your ear. “Say it to me.”
“I’m pretty,” Jack grunts slightly when you don’t say it all, shaking his head against you. But it makes him happy when you complete the phrase. “I’m beautiful.”
“That’s my girl, my good girl. Say it to me, honey. Let me hear you say it - you’re my good girl.”
“I’m your good girl.” He’s never done this before, never made you repeat his praise. But he wants you to know it, wants you to say it until you truly believe it. Jack wants you to know how wonderful you truly are. 
The hand on your stomach lifts to your chest, touching you kindly. He cups you, massages you, turning his head to press those plush lips to your cheek. And he continues, going on for who knows how long, making you repeat his wonderful words and feeling pride bloom in his chest when you say them. 
You’re the love of my life. 
Your body is amazing
You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen
You’re the person that completes me
“I want you to know it, honey. I always want you to know it.” 
The love Jack gives you is on an entirely different level than the love you’ve received from others. It’s like you didn’t even know what love was before him. 
“Mm…” He hums, hand dropping from your chest to rub between your legs. “Sugar, you’re wet?”
“Yes, daddy.” You’re nodding, whining slightly, heart skipping in its beat. 
“You want me, baby? You want it?” He’s kissing your cheek again, sighing against you. “Because daddy wants you.” 
Nothing would make Jack happier in this moment than to claim you, to mark your body as his all over again. Spiritually, emotionally, physically, you're his. And he is yours.
Your words allow him to move easily, shifting his pants off his hips and down his legs until they’re discarded somewhere behind him. Jack’s body keeps you down, the warm skin of his chest pressing into your own. This is when he finally meets your lips, his hungry and passionate. Your husband swallows every sound you make, every moan and high whine as he positions himself to slide inside. 
“You’re so pretty like this.” His breaths are already hurried, speaking when he pushes himself into the space between your legs. “When you let me lay you back, when you let me take care of you…” 
“I always want you to.” Reaching for his shoulders, you cling to him, walls stretching around his girth. 
He’s moving so slow that it’s becoming agonizing, finally deciding to lift your hips to speed up the process. And it works, Jack’s punched-out gasp fanned across your face as he looks down at you, down at where the two of you connect.
“If you think I spoiled you before…” He says, grabbing onto your hip with a grin. “You have no idea what’s comin’.”
“I know you’ll always take care of me daddy,” Something emotional overcomes you, one hand lifting to cup his handsome face. “I need you.”
Instantly, he’s diving down, bringing himself back to you. He lets you hold him, both arms wrapping around his neck. Keeping his one hand on your hip, he begins a gradual pace, ducking himself into the crook of your neck to suck sensually on your skin. 
“Daddy, faster, please.”
Already, you’re whining for him, and he fucking loves it, he always has. You succumb so easily to him. Since the first night you saw him, you’ve been addicted. 
“Uh-uh,” Shaking his head, he keeps himself against your neck. “We’re gonna go at daddy’s pace. Don’t wanna hurt your body, baby.”
“Baby, I’m fine. I promise, I just, I want it.” You haven’t even had your first ultrasound yet and he’s already treating you like glass. 
Dropping his forehead to your chest, he groans. “You think you know what’s best?”
At this, you whimper, his simple words putting you back in your place. 
“You’ll do what daddy says, babycakes.” Shaking his head, he sighs, continuing to slide in and out of you at a gradual pace. “Don’t make me say it again.” 
Your tiny okay daddy prompts him to lift his head, praise floating from his lips as he leans in to kiss you. Opening his mouth, his tongue slides against your own, tasting you with a sense of urgency. The way he moves his mouth is entirely opposite to the rest of his body. He’s still going slow, the firm drag of him along your walls making you cry out for him. 
“Oh my god, baby. You’re so fucking sexy,” Jack is panting, his hips rutting into you repeatedly. And you’re still clinging to him, lifting your pelvis to meet his every thrust. 
Sliding your hand down his back, it lands on his ass, pushing him closer to you, urging him to dive deeper inside you. 
“You can’t do that.” Feeling your nails scratch down his back, he bares his teeth briefly, feeling a surge of adrenaline kick in. “I’m gonna cum too quick if you keep doing that.” He’s referring to the way you’re moving your hips, and the way you’re touching him.
“It’s okay, daddy. I want it,” Leaning in, you whisper to him, “I already have it.” 
“Oh, honey,” And just like that, he’s thinking about the pregnancy, about how beautiful you’ll look with your belly. “Will you let me lick you?”
“Hm?” 
His free hand rises to your chest again, gripping your left breast. “When these get big ‘n full…”
Those brown eyes then look down, gazing at your chest with a sense of hunger you’ve never seen before.
“Will you let me taste them?”
Fuck, you never even thought about that. It’s never been brought up before, Jack having any kind of lactation kink. But it makes sense, he does love your soft, plump chest. 
“Baby, that’s so sexy…” Watching him dive down, he sucks your nipple inside his mouth, moaning. “Yes, of course I will, daddy.” 
Just thinking about it makes him throb, his imagination pushing him to the edge. He can already picture it, your sensitive tits spilling from the nipple, leaking down your chest. It would taste so sweet, the milk dripping from you. He’d massage them in his warm, strong hands, squeezing more out of you. 
“Fuck me, sugar, I’m…” Pinching his eyes shut, he groans. “Jesus baby, I’m gonna cum.”
You’re not sure if you’re feeling sensitive from your early pregnancy or just from the moment, but you feel like you could cum, too. It didn’t always happen, experiencing your high solely from his length. But the way he’s fucking you right now is making your body shake. 
He bites into your shoulder, groaning, hips jerking harshly into the space between your legs. Jack lets you guide him, your hand on his ass pushing him in even deeper than he already is. With your other hand, you grip his hair, your body rolling up against his. The feeling of him spilling inside you is what does it, and it shocks you both, your orgasm riding through you in waves. And then Jack slides his hand up the bed, holding the back of your head and kissing the bruise he left. 
The way he cums is something else; it’s like it has a different purpose now. Holding your body close, he wraps both arms around you, thinking about the life the two of you have built. He’s never been more confident that you’re the one for him. 
Jack’s aftercare was always top tier, you’re truly blessed to have such a doting partner. After cleaning you, he brings you a clean set of pajamas, placing a pillow beneath your head. He knows your nighttime routine pretty well, so he brings you your hairbrush and a hair tie, watching you brush and then braid your hair. When you’re done, he puts everything back, returning to your side in no time. Smoothing his palm over your forehead, he kisses it, doing the same to your belly. And it makes you grin. He then jogs downstairs, grabbing your water bottle so he can fill it and also bring up some snacks. 
“You wanna watch somethin’, baby?” Setting your bottle on your nightstand, he sighs, grunting slightly as he rounds the bed to get situated on his side. “Brought you some fruit and popcorn.”
“Baby, you didn’t have to do that.” Smiling brightly at him, your eyes dazzle with admiration. 
But while you’re looking at him, he frowns, eyes narrowing. Darting slightly to the side, he looks at your phone screen, now grinning. 
“What’s that?” He asks, nodding at your phone. 
Turning your head, you look back at your Google search, cheeks burning from your grin. Looking back at him, you nibble on your corner lip. 
“What do you think about a tiny cowboy hat?”
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oh-stars · 13 days
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Their Other Half
Home
a Stobin Month 2024 prompt | 513 words | CW: depression | Rating: G
--
He can’t get up. His body feels too heavy, too empty as every sad emotion passes through him. He’s bed bound, miserable, and has been the last few days. No matter how much Eddie coaxes to get up and out of bed, he just… can’t.
“Steve,” Eddie says behind him. “You can’t live like this.” 
“Leave me to rot away and die,” he groans into his pillow, pulling the blankets around his shoulders tighter. 
“Baby,” Eddie tries again, all sugar on his lips and talking to him like a preschool teacher to an unruly class. Steve would know, he uses that voice on his students all the time. “This isn’t healthy.” 
“Nothing matters anymore,” Steve whines. “She’s gone, Eds. I’ll never see her again.” 
There’s a beat of silence. 
Steve can hear Eddie grumbling to himself. In the dark room, he can’t see Eddie but he knows he’s probably pulling at his hair and pacing. “I’ll be back in a minute.” His footsteps grow quieter, then he can hear the door being closed with a force he’s not used to. 
He’s not trying to be difficult. He just doesn’t feel right when she’s not here. 
Not even five minutes later, the doors opening again and two sets of feet head Steve’s way. 
The only warning he gets is the door to the bedroom opening before Robin is leaping onto the bed and squishing him into a hug. “Dingus! You’re going to have to buy a new mattress now. It’s going to forever smell like your rotting body,” she says with a huff, pinching her nose. 
Steve doesn’t even care. He turns and wraps all his limbs around her, trapping her in his bed and arms for the foreseeable future. “I missed you,” he grumbles. “I’m glad you’re home.” 
She wiggles to get more comfortable and forces him to let go long enough to get under the covers, unbothered by his unshowered body or how gross the bed feels after his days of wallowing. “I am too,” she says. “You could have come over though.” 
“I wanted to give you time to settle,” he whines. 
“I’d rather you rot on my couch than alone in your bed,” she says. 
They don’t say anything else, even when Eddie mumbles an ‘unbelievable’ under his breath when his plan completely backfired on him. He should know that Steve needs a few hours of Robin time to reset before he can be himself again. 
It doesn’t matter that she moved out of the bedroom next to his and into the apartment next door. Or that once summer planning starts back next week at the elementary school, they’ll be working side-by-side for hours a day. The last three days without Robin living within the confines of what used to be their shared apartment just haven’t been the same without her. 
And eventually, he’ll get used to his new normal, but for now, he’s glad to have his other half back. (Which he suspects she feels the same way if her vice grip on his back has anything to say.)
--
Thank you @lady-lostmind for beta reading!
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sw1mmingfoolz · 2 years
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✨ cake - lee donghyuck (haechan) ✨
requested? Y/N - '*cracks knuckles* let's do this // pairing: reader x haechan // prompts: 24, 30, 77, 84 // - livvie (who is looking forward to this') - @crimsoncauldron
a/n: thanks for requesting lovely! i hope i did it justice, honestly i suck at keeping my work concise this isn't even a drabble LMAO 😭 also not well versed in e2l so... here's hoping you like it uwu :) mad i can't add my usual 3 aesthetics because tumblr is being SO fucky wucky rn, i have tried to post this a million times already the readmores refuse to work rn too so. tumblr fix ur shit pls!!! feedback is always very appreciated! 💕💕💕
wc: 4.3k
genre: e2l, angst, fluff
pairing: haechan x gn!reader
content warnings: me being unable to not include cocky characters, swearing, mentions of toxic parents/family dynamics
24. “you’re safe with me, i’m here to protect you.”
30. “stop pretending you’re okay, ‘cause i can see that you’re not.”
77. enemies to lovers
84. college!AU
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“You know 99% is like, ridiculously good, right?” Jaemin asked with furrowed brows as you shot daggers at your returned paper, looking for where you dropped a mark. Upon getting no answer your best friend elbowed you sharply in the upper arm, causing you to yelp and turn your glare on him instead.
“It’s not 100, therefore it’s not good enough,” you huffed, to which he rolled his eyes.
“Your expectations for yourself are way too high. Some might say impossible,” Before you could think of a snarky retort you caught sight of the last person you wanted to at this moment opposite you in the hall. You couldn’t exactly blame him for being there; your lockers faced each other after all, but his laid back smile as he showed everyone his perfect paper boiled a fury in the pit of your stomach you absolutely despised. Jaemin followed your raging eyes to Donghyuck and sighed, slamming his own locker shut and startling you.
“You’re so unsubtle it hurts. Why are you so mad at him for doing well?” He asked, glancing back at the small group of friends surrounding the ever-so-slightly older male. You pouted, crossing your arms over your chest and turning away so as to not get caught staring.
“I’m not. I’m mad at him for being a cocky asshole about it,” you grumbled, pitching your voice down the best you could to mimic his speech. “I don’t even like science, I didn’t even study for this.” Jaemin snorted at your incredibly far off impression and shrugged his shoulders.
“I dunno, Yn, if I got 100% on tests I didn’t study for I’d be cocky about it as well.”
“And I’d probably hate you for it too,” you shot back, shoving your paper into your locker and as such the back of your mind. “I’m hungry, buy me lunch?”
“Buy your own lunch, freeloader!”
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It was a cycle you were used to, though not enough to stop being surprised when seeing Donghyuck made flames erupt in your stomach and dance their way up to your throat, acrid and bitter. Sure, it was probably rather one sided, for he barely acknowledged your presence, but there was nothing you hated more than his attitude. He rolled up to class only to be a distraction the whole time, wearing his invisible ‘class clown’ badge with pride, bragged constantly about how he never even needed to study (not that he had the time, with choir, dance club and football), and managed to score perfectly on literally everything he did. In a way your internalised rivalry drove you, furious graphite scribbles and messy notes consuming your evenings with his arrogant expression and smug smirk etched into the grooves of your brain. But you also knew it wasn’t exactly healthy, nor sustainable, and Jaemin was tired of greeting you outside every morning to find you having not eaten in over half a day, running on three hours of sleep and a sugar free Redbull with deep purple bags permanently camping in the skin beneath your eyes. There was only so much he could scold you - he wasn’t your mother as well as he fit the role - but your actual mom’s nagging was just as ineffective, if not moreso. Your actual mother’s nagging went in the completely opposite direction.
You were nothing but your grades, and it had been ingrained into you from a young age. How well you did directly affected your family and their status - and you were not to embarrass them by being a failure. Anything below 100% was indicative of your slacking, or worse, ineptitude, and it burned you to embers, stifled under the smoke of envisioned success. But even Jaemin didn’t know this, constant excuses keeping him from ever setting foot in your house, your strict curfew being the extent of his knowledge of your home life at all. You weren’t one to be a burden, after all.
Even the way Donghyuck strolled into class annoyed you. His shoulders back and head high, greeting everyone with a wide smile, you hated how ridiculously easy he had it. He noticed you looking at him and gave you a grin and a nod, which you strained yourself to return. Hell if you’d let him know how you actually felt, although you would be surprised if he’d never felt the intensity of your eyes boring holes into the back of his skull when he was nearby. Chemistry, again, his supposed least favourite subject (joining the other sciences), but one he was so incessantly successful in that there might as well have been no one else in the class. That is, in your professor's eyes. Chest heaving with the irritation at it all, you almost missed her informing the class of a partnered project worth a big chunk of your grade, and as such when Donghyuck turned around in his seat to face you your first emotion was pure confusion. He avoids me, and I like it that way.
“Guess we’re partners,” he flashed you such a confident smile it made your stomach churn, his legs kicking under the desk gaily. You swallowed thickly, unable to stop a small frown contorting your face.
“What?”
“Were you not listening? We’re partners!” his cheery expression didn’t falter as he explained to you, and you knew your face was reddening against your will when you felt it heat up. You didn’t know why exactly you wanted to burst into tears, but it hit you so strongly you had to excuse yourself, running to lock yourself in a bathroom stall down the hall and leaning against the door. You put your hand over your chest as you tried to calm your breathing, tears brimming in your eyes as the overwhelm you refused to let yourself feel hit you all at once. You felt the universe was against you - now you had to see his horrendous work ethic up close, probably put in twice as much effort as he did, and probably watch him sail by on an impressively perfect grade while you were left in the “almost there but just not good enough” limbo of 99%. Your fists clenched and you resigned yourself to the tears, letting them streak your face as silently as you could manage as you stared at the ceiling.
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You didn’t let yourself feel weak for long, as you knew it would be suspicious. You splashed cool water on your face, waiting to be a little less puffy before you walked back into the classroom and took your seat again, however it seemed nothing escaped him as his eyes flickered over your face.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m good. I’m Yn, by the way,” you said, voice made even with great effort, realising you still hadn’t introduced yourself.
“I know.” That grin again. “I’m-”
“Donghyuck, I know,” you returned, flashing him the most self assured smile you could conjure. He nodded before pulling his notebook from the bench in front of him, pen readied in his hand.
“When are you available? My schedule tends to be pretty packed but we have to find some time to work on this, so,”
“Ah, so you’re not just going to leave me to do it all myself?” The remark slipped out before you could stop yourself, and you knew you sounded crazy, especially when you caught Jaemin glaring at you from the other end of your bench. Donghyuck blinked at you, confused, before laughing awkwardly.
“No, I hate people who do that in group projects. Do Tuesday afternoons work for you? We can start tomorrow if so, maybe go to the cafe off campus or something. Guessing you don’t want a stranger in your house,” he chuckled. You nodded.
“They don't even want their best friend in their house,” you heard Jaemin mutter under his breath, feeling his eyes on you.
“Tuesday is fine. The cafe is fine, too,” you said, ignoring your best friend.
“Well then. That’s… fine then.” his smile was softer now as he wrote 'tuesday afternoons' down. “Do you wanna exchange Katalk IDs? For arrangements and all that stuff.” Again you agreed, and as he sorted out the basics you hoped he didn’t notice how badly your brain had frozen upon having to actually speak to the man you had hated from afar for the better part of a year already. He did, but he didn’t say a word.
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You wished Tuesday wouldn’t come, for Monday to become Wednesday somehow, or maybe for you to die suddenly in your sleep. But in spite of your own dramatism the days continued as usual, and you found yourself perched on a tall stool opposite him at an equally tall table, freshly made hot drink leaving a small sheen of moisture on your chin as you hovered your face over it. He had insisted on paying, for some reason.
“So I say we go with the caffeine from waste tea and coffee experiment because the project is pretty simple, it’s been done a hundred times before…” He spoke somewhat passionately for a subject he claimed to hate, pen never seeming to leave his hand. You quickly learned that he made a note of everything, no matter how miniscule seeming. They were neat and sometimes colour coded in highlighter. You looked down at your own chicken scratch and urged the ground to swallow you up before you had to take a second more of sitting across from him. Your chest felt heavy and you had no idea how you got through the entire hour you’d scheduled together, drink long forgotten until the end where you chugged it down cold in the hopes of relieving how dry your mouth felt. You’d lost count of how many times he’d asked if you were feeling ill, which you could only consider faux concern. You didn’t know why, though, as you were the only person who seemed to indulge in any kind of disdain for the other. Donghyuck was positively ambivalent, which you supposed was normal to say you had barely spoken at all before being partnered up.
“So, what’s your deal?” He asked, and you felt a chill wash over you. You were that easily read?
“What do you mean?” You tried to keep your voice steady, fidgeting with the pen in your hands.
“Like, where are you from, what do you wanna be in the future, all the basic stuff.” He beamed at you, oddly encouraging, yet the tension in your shoulders did not ease. He's trying to get to know me?
“Well, I moved to Seoul a few years ago, and at the moment chemical engineering is what I’m most interested in. So I’m pretty excited for this project. We relocated because of my dad’s job. Uh, I’m best friends with Jaemin, who is also in our class…” You didn’t know why you were struggling to find things to say - you had your hobbies and interests, plenty of them even - but you felt as if your head were spinning. “I’m a little boring, I guess,”
“I don't think so. Chemical engineering, that’s pretty cool. I can’t wrap my head around the sciences, I’m only even taking this course because-” He stopped himself mid sentence, looking away awkwardly and opting to sip from his iced americano instead. “Well anyway, we moved because of my dad’s job too. Technically. I was born in Seoul but we moved to Jeju for a few years when I was a kid.”
“Oh, that’s cool. Jeju is really pretty.”
“It is! I miss it sometimes, but Seoul is cool too. Better for good schools, I guess,” he chuckled. His pen twirled between his fingers, eyes constantly alternating between looking at you and the table, his demeanour a weird mix of timid and overly assured. You hated that you felt drawn to him, wanting to know more, wanting to know why he stopped himself from telling you why he took this course.
You didn’t mention it.
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Next Tuesday seemed to come faster than the last, and the next even moreso, with a month passing in a blur of weekly meetings (and once biweekly), stolen glances at one another that definitely did not hold the same emotion, and his neat little notes preparing for the actual experiment. This particular Tuesday, you wished you’d at least applied concealer or something to make yourself look a little more alive, time flying from you during the night and dissipating in the white glow of your laptop screen. You had not slept.
You’d arrived and seated yourself before he did, a small clink meeting your ears as he placed a plate before you. A slice of cake sat on the delicate china, simple but pretty, your usual drink order following it.
“Cake?” You asked dumbly, brain seeming to have forgotten all words and replaced them with static. He smiled as he slid into the seat opposite you, producing his usual note taking supplies from his backpack.
“You look like you haven’t eaten much. I wanted to get you something a bit more proper but I don’t know what you like,” The ice you’d solidified your heart in seemed to melt a little, eyes softening with it.
“That’s really thoughtful, thank you,” you mumbled as you began eating it, consciously trying to look as graceful as you could as you wished you could shove the whole thing in your mouth in one go. You hadn’t realised how ravenous you really were, well accustomed to ignoring the growling monster of your stomach.
“I have time after this if you’ll let me treat you to lunch?” he asked nonchalantly, not looking up at you as he did. His mannerisms were shy, but somehow he still exuded more confidence than you thought you ever had. Ever the enigma.
“Why?”
“Because you need to eat better,” he scoffed, looking up at you this time. You frowned, shaking your head.
“No, I mean, why are you so nice to me?”
“You haven’t given me any reason not to be?” He looked confused, and suddenly the usually comforting background chatter and coffee machine noises seemed way too deafening. You cast your gaze down to your hands resting at the table.
“I mean, I haven’t exactly liked you much,”
“I caught you glaring at me a few times but I thought it was just a coincidence? I figured we were getting along quite well,”
“I mean, yeah, but no…" he looked more confused and you sighed in frustration, running a hand through your hair and meeting his gaze with every shred of will you could conjure. "I’ve found myself hating you so much it makes my blood feel like it’s genuinely boiling,” You admitted quietly, feeling suddenly extremely small as the man who had shown you nothing but amicability made no effort to hide his dropped jaw. His eyes watched you carefully, evidently not sure of what to say.
“W…why?” Everything in his body urged him to leave, to just accept that you did not feel anywhere near the same about him as he did you, ears burning. He felt stupid for thinking you were giving him the same energy as he had been you. Maybe your backstory was all fake, fabricated for the sake of being friendly, he thought, watching you shift uncomfortably under his gaze.
“I just,” you sighed deeply, hands worrying at each other. “This is going to sound really pathetic.”
“I want to hear it,” he urged, and you understood, for if someone you’d been working closely with and sharing pretty affable casual conversation with for a month suddenly admitted to hating you that much you’d want to know their reason too.
“I just despise how easy you have it,” you murmured, words straining to escape your throat. You knew how bitter they were, and you knew you probably sounded a little crazy, but you’d already started now. Might as well let the mask fall.
“Easy?” he repeated, eyes narrowing at you. “What makes you think that?”
“You’re just so laid back about everything! You’re constantly distracting in classes, brag every time we have a test or assignment about how you don’t even study, and you still have perfect grades? And you’re in a bunch of clubs, and everyone likes you,” you realised you were rambling and bit down on your tongue slightly, eyes threatening to water again. “You just always struck me as a cocky asshole, I guess,” you finished, a good ending blow to knock the wind out of his sails. He sat, astonished, before his face contorted into a mix of anger and disappointment you didn’t think he was capable of.
“So, you took me for a cocky asshole while making a bunch of assumptions? Never spoke to me or got to know me, just decided who I was and how I have it?” He all but spat his words, packing away his notebook and his pens with a little too much fervour. He slammed a few 1000 won notes in front of you, face hot with rage, and your eyes swam. “Get something to eat, and talk to me when you’ve come to your senses. For your information, I have it far from easy, but you don’t get to judge me regardless.” He stormed out of the cafe as you stared at the money in front of you. As if he’s still buying me lunch.
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You stared at your chatroom with Donghyuck solemnly, guilty swirling within you like a storm. It had been a few days and he was occupying your mind like it were his home, while avoiding you like the plague at school. Most of your messages were sending one another TikToks you found funny, random memes, and scheduling your Tuesday meets, but one message stood out over the rest.
hyuck: you’re so much cooler than I ever imagined, lol :)
He’d admitted he never paid you much attention because of how quiet you were but called you cute, and openly stated he admired your passion for the subject. You had started feeling quite lucky he was your partner - Jaemin had been left doing the brunt of his project as his partner was way more consumed by a party lifestyle that allowed little time for actual academics, his complaining sitting unanswered in your notifications bar. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard before you found yourself typing, then backspacing, then typing again, then backspacing again.
It took an hour to finally send a message; half of the time spent writing it and the other half spent with your thumb teasing at the send button, heart attempting to break free of your ribcage. Donghyuck’s phone lit up as the Katalk notification sounded, dragging his attention from the notes he’d continued poring over in your absence.
you: can we meet? i fucked up, and i owe you an apology and an explanation. if you’ll hear them
He hesitated in answering, watching his phone screen as if he expected it to tell him the answer. He was hurt by your admission and upset that he'd thought you were actually beginning to get rather close, but he was also one for actual communication. He rolled his eyes and typed quickly.
hyuck: cafe, tomorrow.
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The air was so heavy it slumped your shoulders as you sat across from an empty seat, having arrived early on purpose. A cake, the same he'd gotten you a few days prior, sat next to an iced coffee, and your fingers drummed impatiently at the smooth wood as your breath raced. You didn't see him arrive, as you were staring down at your lap, however his presence was always one you could feel. It was usually warm and inviting, but at that moment, it was careful and untrusting, making nausea rise in your stomach. You sipped your own drink in silence.
"Cake?"
"A peace offering," you smiled weakly, gesturing for him to sit down. "Look, I know I fucked up, and I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have been so quick to make assumptions, it just always looked like you were sailing through and it made me feel so… inadequate," your eyes were anywhere but his, avoidant and skittish, while he watched you speak intently. He sighed before forking some of the cake into his mouth, chewing slowly deliberately.
"Well, I accept your apology, because to me it seems you're under so much stress you projected it onto me," he poked his fork in your direction, scattering a few crumbs on the table's surface. You blinked slowly, unable to believe he'd read you so well. You then remembered the psych elective you'd both had together.
"I'm fine, honestly. I was just being an asshole,"
"Yn," his voice was stern, eyes dark and serious. “Stop pretending you’re okay, because I can see that you’re not.” You gulped at his words, not expecting them to hit you as hard as they did, as your eyes started to well up. He moved a hand to place it over one of yours on the table, a gesture that shocked you.
"You're still so nice to me," you sobbed, mildly embarrassed but too upset to care much. His expression was soft and sad, silently urging you to unburden yourself to him. "You're right. My grades are basically my worth, in my parents eyes. If I don't do well, I get kicked out. My entire life is studying, I am constantly neglecting myself, and it has made me way more bitter than I'd wanted to admit. I saw how laid back you were and it made me feel jealous. I wanted that. I want to laugh freely and coast through my courses, but I can't. I am just suffocating, constantly," It all came gushing out before you could restrain yourself, tears flowing just as unabated. You hardly noticed as he stood up to move to the seat next to you, warm arms wrapping tightly around you and pulling you into his shoulder to cry, hidden from the curious gazes of other cafe goers.
After a while you were reduced to sniffles, head throbbing dully and breathing ragged. You did feel a little lighter, though. "I'm sorry if I ruined your shirt," you sniffed, to which he chuckled lightly.
"They're just tears, Yn, they'll wash out," You smiled and he wiped your cheeks with his thumbs, so gently you barely felt them. You blinked up at him sadly, and he swore he felt his heart break.
"I'm sorry, I really am. I don't think I ever hated you, I just hated my situation and needed a target,"
"I know," he murmured, a hand coming up to brush fingers through your hair rather clumsily. "It's okay, I forgive you. I really did feel we were getting pretty close, though,"
"We were! I mean, I'm honestly quite fond of you, even if I do still think you're a bit cocky," you jibed, poking his ribs a little.
"At least I'm not an asshole this time," he grinned. "And I really meant it when I said I don't have it easy. That time I stopped myself, I was scared of oversharing, but since you've allowed yourself to be so vulnerable with me…" he trailed off, voice small, and you took his hand and squeezed it.
"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, but I'm happy to listen," you encouraged, earning a gentle nod.
"My clubs are all that keep me sane. I really do despise the sciences, but I take them because my dad makes me. I kinda rely on him for tuition and all," You blinked at him as you processed what he told you, your gradually fading guilt coming back to punch you in the gut with a vengeance. You really had it all wrong.
"I know how that feels," you frowned, lower lip jutting out a little at the thought of him feeling the same pressure you'd been drowning in for so long.
"It's not easy for me to do well. I actually study like a maniac behind the scenes, but you can't tell anyone that," he giggled, and you rolled your eyes.
"Your secret is safe with me!"
"We have more in common than I realised," he hummed, hand still comforting in your hair. He was surprisingly tender in his movements, and coupled with the weight of your crying session it was enough to begin lulling you to sleep. You felt it hit you in strong waves, however you fought them, blearily blinking at Donghyuck. "Now we've sorted that out, I feel like you need sleep," he chuckled. "But Yn?"
"Yeah?"
"That time I asked to buy you lunch… maybe we can still do that? Like, as a date?"
"A date?" you were so stunned it brought you back a little more to the realm of the awake. He'd spent weeks falling for you, and you were too caught up in your own judgement to notice?
"Yeah, I mean. I really like you, and our little cafe hang outs. I'd love to get to know you even better, if you'll let me?" You watched his face, finding him nothing but genuine, before nodding, leaning against his shoulder as fatigue continued to batter your body.
"I'd love that, Donghyuck. You're quite the catch yourself, y’know," your speech was slightly slurred, making him giggle into your hair. He pressed a gentle kiss to your head, careful in case he was crossing a line, and when you hummed in contentment he allowed you a stronger one before helping you to your feet.
"Let me take you home, sleepyhead," he teased, supporting you as you all but slumped entirely against him. "You're gonna have to at least show me the way, though,"
"My mom is gonna be pissed that I'm wasting precious studying time on a man," you groaned, making him laugh loudly.
"That's okay, I'll fight your mom," You snorted at his serious sounding joke, though his next words immediately softened you, heart suddenly soaring because of the one man you thought you'd find yourself repelled by forever. “You’re safe with me, I'm here to protect you.”
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fullertwink · 2 years
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You look amazing, you should be proud of how far you have come! I’m in a situation where I’m skinny and want to gain weight to the point you’re at and probably further because I know I’ll feel more comfortable with a fattier body. What foods would you recommend to get a soft belly and are there any techniques you have into making yourself feel more hungry to be able to eat more?
Awwwwww many thanks!!
Ok so lemme say just a few things:
1) I loooooove the weight gain related fantasies; however I’m very happy to see that you want to gain for *yourself*. It can be great fun to share the process but at the end of the day you should only care about your own opinion ☺️. Gaining/Losing is all about realizing that we can affect our body.
2) keeping with theme of fantasies; I looove such things as complex pig out sessions where you shove your face into a cake (maybe that’s just me tho 😊😉). However, any extravagant feeding or stuffing can lead to gain but should not be the back bone of your gaining for a few reasons:
2.1))))))) it’s less healthy; eating more healthy sources of calories than sugar or not so healthy fats can apparently lead to more subcutaneous fat instead of visceral fat so maybe can increase the “soft” look :)
2.2))))))) it’s less efficient. The fastest way to gain in my experience is to have a consistent surplus of calories. I have personally used little snacks such as I peanut butter and bananas to gain quite some weight in a very short time hehe. Basically some little 500-600 calorie snacks each day erased my abs and put a belly on me in 2 months…
So TLDR: I’d recommend using some healthy but calorie denseeee snacks during the day to make sure you’re over your base calorie number *persistently*.
If you do that the chub comes very fast 😊
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janort · 8 months
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Hello! I’ve had these three fellas for a decent amount of time. With Pourquoi the Pierrot there having been under my care for well over a year, the spiffy white ringleader lookin’ guy (who’s name is Dionysus) for maybe half a year, and Leeroy the gentlemanly looking red nosed clown for a good four months now. In spite of being a little mismatched they’ve all become the best of friends! I love watching their dynamics play out in their various acts that they put on for me, it’s so unlike anything I’d ever seen before! I believe they are happy and well cared for in my home (happy, well nourished, and they all seem to find good enrichment in one another’s company) but I want to be able to provide the best care possible! And to do that, I need to know a bit more about their breeds I believe. If you wouldn’t mind, I would LOVE a physical evaluation of them from you to see if there’s any surprises on my end. Pourquoi is a very tall clown, unusually so for a Pierrot, and he is also prone to staring and sneaking around. Is there perhaps some scare clown in his lineage that you can see in his appearance? Dionysus is small, but not so small that I would think of him as having any teacup in him. Leeroy is decently tall, but not so gigantesque as Pourquoi is. If there’s anything you can confirm or debunk, I’d love to know!
Ah! What a unique bunch! I am more knowledgeable on teacup clowns, and as always I’d like to remind everyone I am not a veterinarian, but I am always open to give some insight on clowns.
So, you say Pourquoi tends to sneak around and stare? That does sound like scare tendencies. I can’t see anything uniquely scare about his appearance, but that doesn’t rule out scare lineage. The thing that does stick out about him to me is the flowers on his collar. Traditional Pierrot don’t have floral accents as far as I know, so he probably has some other breed in his dna. Scare clowns are extremely diverse in appearance so they could very possibly be from that. (Flowers can appear in other breeds, which is why I don’t consider floral accents uniquely scare clownish.) Pierrot and scares both require meat in their diets, although scares typically require more. I would check the sharpness of his teeth, scares usually have sharper teeth than Pierrot. If you reference some images of pure bred Pierrot teeth and his seem noticeably sharper, he probably does indeed have some scare clown lineage. As long as no problems are coming up, I’d continue his care as normal and I don’t think he needs immediate dna testing. Perhaps buy a chew toy for him to try out, (these are a favorite of scares) and offer some more meat based snacks. If he doesn’t have a dark spot to retreat to, you may want to build one, scares like to have the option of quiet time and darkness. He seems very happy and healthy!
Dionysus is definitely of ring leader descent, I agree. He also seems to be a porcelain clown, based on appearance. Leeroy also looks to be porcelain. I think he’s probably a mix of ring leader and fool. None of their colors or patterns seem much like a party clown’s. (which is the most common breed of clown) Care for porcelain clowns is pretty simple, they need lots of sugar to maintain their exoskeleton, and some sugarwater or syrup like you would put out for butterflies or hummingbirds.
Overall you seem to be doing a great job and are very diligent about caring for them.
Best wishes to you and your little troupe!
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Text
Forduary Week 3: Insomnia
Post-series Fiddauthor fluff! Sometimes sleeping is hard. (CW for mention of serious bodily injury, and also for a lil bit of Ford’s ptsd)
There’s nothing like falling asleep on a boat, Ford thinks longingly. He never once had trouble sleeping on the Stan o’ War, unless it was because of some temporary problem, like Stan stomping around their room or pain from a cracked rib.
Now that he and Stanley have returned to Gravity Falls for the summer, Ford seems only to be able to sleep in fitful catnaps throughout the day, sometimes waking by jolting himself upright, filled with the urge to either punch something or run until he realizes where he is. At night, after trying and often failing to fall asleep, he paces around the Hootenanny Hut like a none-too-stealthy ghost, exploring the cavernous, tacky rooms and their contents.
Ford stands at the end of a spacious hallway. In the darkness, it seems painted in grays and blacks. The window at the end of the hall is so ostentatiously large and multi-paned that he wonders if it was placed there by accident. It was probably intended to be the central feature of a house that cost a mere six figures. The window overlooks a healthy portion of deep, black woods, bathed at the moment in bright moonlight that spills into the hallway and pools on Ford’s bare feet. He winces, suddenly realizing how cold his toes are. He curls them into the thick, artfully patterned carpet. He should have worn socks.
Ford’s eyes are gritty and sore. His head aches. His jaw, too. He’s been clenching it without noticing, an old habit of his that’s resurfaced. His tension ratchets up when he hears footsteps behind him. He whirls around quickly, despite the fact that he knows perfectly well who it will be.
Fiddleford is dressed for sleep in sweats and a t-shirt. He moseys down the hallway, smiling when he catches Ford’s eye, in spite of Ford’s overreaction to his presence. Ford smiles, slightly embarrassed to be caught panicking at nothing.
“Good evening,” he says, feeling immediately re-embarrassed. A lot of formality for a man wearing plaid jammies, he thinks in an annoyingly Stan-like voice. Fiddleford only smiles and steps nearer.
“Evenin’. Come here often?” They both look out Fiddleford’s window, shoulder to shoulder.
After a comfortable pause, Ford answers, “It’s my first time at this particular window.”
Fidds snorts. “Can’t sleep or don’t want to?” he asks.
Ford glances at him, smiling slightly. “I’d love to if I could. I think I’m just having trouble adjusting to sleeping on dry land.”
Fiddleford nods. “Did all you could to avoid it when we were young and now you can’t sleep when you want to. That’s irony for ya.”
Ford nearly jumps out of his skin when Fiddleford brushes his hand against Ford’s. Before Fiddleford can do more than twitch in surprise and open his mouth to apologize, Ford slips his hand quickly into Fiddleford’s.
“Sorry,” he says before Fiddleford can. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s fine, honey.” Fiddleford’s frowning up at him, worried. His eyes are full of concern. Ford likes Fiddleford’s eyes. Although Ford can’t see their color in the darkness he imagines he can, his brain filling in the details it knows to be there. He can see/not see the dark blue of Fiddleford’s eyes and the way they scan Ford’s face. Surely, in the poor lighting, Fiddleford must also be relying on memory to fill in Ford’s finer details. He wonders if the Ford Fidds is imagining has rid himself of facial hair in the last day. Or if he lacks the tired circles under his eyes that the real Ford has. Then again, Fidds was with him today– he knows Stanford isn’t looking his best.
It occurs to Ford that he should perhaps say something. He can’t remember what the last thing said was. Is it his turn to talk? He doesn’t know. Could his tiredness be catching up with him? Shameful. He used to be able to go for three to six days without sleeping.
“I’m getting old,” he tells Fiddleford, who laughs.
“Sure are, sugar, but least you ain’t the only one. You plan on looming here at my window for much longer?”
“I can probably loom anywhere,” Ford jokes. Fiddleford squeezes his hand.
“Come on, then. If you can’t sleep, you can’t sleep, and I wanted to show you my stories. Now’s as good a time as any.” He pulls Ford gently back down the hall.
Ford winces. Soos’s Japanese cartoons have cast some kind of spell over Fiddleford, who can’t get enough of them. He can’t say he has any particular interest in them, but Ford has to keep an open mind. Soos is a man of surprisingly good taste; he introduced Ford to FCLORP, a delightful hobby that Ford wishes existed when he and Fiddleford were young. It’s possible that anime has hidden depths.
Anyway, as crappy as he feels, he has a ready-made excuse if he fails to pay adequate attention.
They settle in the TV room, which is not to be confused with the theater. The theater seats sixteen and is lined in red velvet curtains. The day after he and Stan arrived back in town, they watched an old movie in there with an assortment of Fiddleford’s friends from town. The TV room is next to Fiddleford’s bedroom. It was once an identical bedroom, but now boasts a TV at the foot of the bed. Ford has never seen anyone in the TV room outside of himself and Fiddleford.
The bed is one that came with the house, formerly belonging to the Northwests– big and soft, all dark wood and fabrics in shades of blue. Ford flops onto it and crawls to the left side, wishing there was a couch in the room. Being in bed and unable to sleep feels like a slap in the face. Ford feels that the bed is mocking him, like the beds all do in the No Sleep Dimension.
“Alrighty, you all comfy?” Fiddleford asks cheerily.
“Let’s go for it, Fidds.” Ford tries to inject some energy into his voice, but it’s been over a week since he got any more than two unbroken hours of sleep a night. His ability to be energetic is severely reduced.
The opening sequence of Fiddleford’s show is action-filled and blindingly bright. Ford, watching carefully, gathers that it’s about a group of teenagers who possess the power to transform into large, conveniently color-coded robotic bears. Once the show proper begins, Ford quickly loses the thread.
“So he can’t become a bear yet,” Ford confirms with Fiddleford.
“Naw, just watch! This is only the first episode.” Fidds shifts closer and takes Ford’s hand again. “He ain’t found the razor yet that’ll change him into an Ursa Fighter.”
“Oh.”
Ford watches, stupefied, as the teenaged boy, sans colorful friends, discovers a large claw which he confusingly calls a razor and allows him to change his shape, mass, and chemical makeup. (But only specifically into the aforementioned robot bear shape.) He engages in combat with laser-toting androids and ultimately swears to protect the city from the sinister WitchCorp. When the closing credits begin, Ford wonders what he was supposed to have gleaned from this experience.
The next ten episodes clue Ford in slightly to the fact that context and meaning are somewhat nebulous in this fictional world. Occasionally he asks a clarifying question.
“Is he still inside the bear suit?”
“Nope, it’s converted his body into a bear.”
“Don’t his parents notice that he’s gone for hours at a time?” “It’ll come up later, just wait.” “These girls are happy to become child soldiers on the advice of a complete stranger?” “Well, they were destined to be Ursa Fighters just like Daisuke was, y’see.”
By the time the sun lances its horrible rays into the room, signaling another failed night for Stanford, he is now, if not proficient in the ways of the Ursa Fighter, at least an initiate. Ford’s no less exhausted after half a night spent watching cartoons, but is at least content. Sometime after Towa joined Daisuke in his quest (adding the White Bear to the team), he ended up pressed against Fiddleford’s side, head lolling on Fidds’s shoulder.
Fiddleford stops the stream. He wraps his arms around Ford, squeezing, and presses his face into Ford’s hair.
“Didn’t expect you to watch all that with me, if I’m telling the truth,” he says, voice muffled. “I was hopin’ it’d put you to sleep.”
Ford smiles, unsurprised. “But if I did stay awake, I might be inspired to help you try to work out the finer details of human-to-robot transformation by means of an enchanted claw?”
“That’s what we call a win-win!” Fiddleford laughs. “Though as far as transformin’ folks into robots goes, I reckon I don’t need any help– don’t forget you’re the looks and I’m the brains, peach pie.” They snicker together as Fiddleford squirms down to Ford’s level until they’re face to face.
Ford looks at him. He can see Fiddleford perfectly now, so the daylight is good for something, at least. He can see each wrinkle on Fiddleford’s face, the permanent tan that’s the legacy of decades spent homeless, the crooked way he’s smiling close-mouthed. Ford hopes it isn’t out of self-consciousness for his lost teeth and the shape the ones he has left are in. The longer Ford has loved Fiddleford, the more handsome Fidds has become, subjectively. He assumes it’s that way for everyone in love, but he’s never asked.
“We might as well get up.” Ford’s voice sounds like it’s being dragged across gravel. In all honesty, he has another idea regarding what they could do in a bed that they aren’t going to sleep in, but there’s no reason they can’t have coffee before sex.
“Sooner we get coffee into ya, the sooner it’ll metabolize and you can take a nap,” Fidds agrees. “Come on, then. We got frozen pizza for breakfast!” He’s much too full of energy for a man with his severity of caffeine dependency. Before he can rush off, Ford inches his face forward to kiss Fidds gently. Fiddleford puts a hand to Ford’s jaw, presumably to keep him in place, not that Ford was planning an escape.
Since the age of twenty, Ford has been of the opinion that Fiddleford is a very good kisser, though whether that’s due to the act of kissing just being generally pleasant or to Fidds’s natural talent, Ford doesn’t know. He used to entertain himself in college by imagining finding everyone Fiddleford had ever kissed and having them fill out a questionnaire, with the goal of determining the objectivity of his conclusion. “On a scale of one to five,” he would imagine writing, “how would you rate subject’s use of tongue during a kiss?” In spite of himself, Ford laughs, breaking away from Fiddleford’s mouth. He hasn’t thought about that in years and years.The lack of sleep must be making him giddy.
“Ain’t sure if that’s a compliment or not,” says Fidds, laughing too. “Be honest, now, does the beard tickle?”
Ford explains his secret, hypothetical study of Fiddleford’s past romantic interests, only a fraction as embarrassed as he would have been to talk about it thirty or forty years ago. He’s rewarded for his honesty by the thing Fiddleford’s face does as Ford explains his proposed methodology. His eyes shimmer with emotion, his mouth trembles, and his cheeks flush deep red.
“Ford!” He grabs Ford’s face with both hands. “That’s the most romantical thing I ever heard in my life! I can’t believe you never said anything about this before!” He kisses Ford again, then pulls back, looking almost irritated. “Dangit, if you weren’t so pathetic all sleep-deprived I’d say phooey to the whole notion of gettin’ outta bed and keep you here all day.”
Ford snorts. “Keep me here doing what, Fiddleford? Watching you sleep? Even when we were young you were always out like a light about twenty seconds after–” Ford interrupts himself by huffing when Fidds shoves him unceremoniously back onto his own side of the bed. He always was startlingly strong for his build.
“You can go ahead and talk yourself out of havin’ any fun with your old pal Fiddleford if’n that’s what’ll make you happy, Stanford. I’m gonna get me some coffee.” But he smiles when he says it, not really angry of course.
Ford reaches out a hand to him, only half as a joke. “I hope it goes without saying that I think of you as more than an old pal,” he says, pressing his free hand to his chest. Fiddleford pulls him out of bed and onto his feet. “You’re an old pal with an unparalleled technical mind and a very pleasant accent,” Ford goes on, putting his arm around Fidds.
“Oh yeah, the country charm always worked wonders on you, don’t think I don’t know it,” Fiddleford says, mouth curling at the corner. He removes the arm from around his waist and takes Ford’s hand again. Ford isn’t sure what’s gotten into them lately. Thank god Stanley isn’t here to witness Ford and Fiddleford acting like idiot honeymooners. “C’mon, hon, you look dead on your feet. Coffee.”
Ford grinds his teeth. He wishes he could hang on to his good mood, but it plunges at the reminder about coffee. Coffee means committing to another few hours awake. Or less. Maybe less. Worst case scenario, he will wander off to one of Fiddleford’s labs or workshops and climb into a cupboard to sleep, as if he’s on the run from Bill’s forces and can’t sleep openly in an undefended room.
Best case scenario, he’ll end up in Fiddleford’s bed, dead to the world. And, as long as he’s wishing for things, he might ideally sleep for a good four hours. (The middle case scenario for sleep, incidentally, is falling asleep in one of the mansion’s several sitting rooms. Fine, but not great for his back. A cupboard floor is more supportive.)
Now that he’s standing, Ford’s joints feel like water. Loud, popping, grinding water. His left thumb aches fiercely from his arthritis. His right fares better, the right arm having been cut off at the shoulder and regrown when he was fifty. Each time Ford blinks, his eyes click loudly. He can’t believe that a mere few minutes ago he was considering doing something as energetic as having sex.
In Fiddleford’s vast kitchen Ford sits at the scuffed table and mismatched chairs Fidds has crammed inelegantly against the breakfast counter as Fidds makes coffee and preheats the oven. He realizes he’s closed his eyes when he hears Fidds sigh but doesn’t see it.
“I was thinkin’ about pickin’ your brain over a robot I been fiddlin’ with, but somehow I think your brain may be slim pickings this mornin’.”
“Luckily I’m just the looks,” Ford mumbles. Fidds chuckles. 
“Well, you ain’t holdin’ that side up, neither. No offense, darlin’, but you look like ten pounds of shit in a two-pound bag. If you don’t get some sleep soon, Stan’ll think I’m mistreatin’ ya. ”
Ford grimaces at the thought of being passed back and forth between his brother and his lover to be looked after, as if he can’t do a thing for himself. He opens his mouth, thinking naively that it will express the thought in his brain, but instead it says “Is it a bear?”
“What’sat?” Fidds calls.
“The robot you want to build,” Ford calls, propping his forehead on his hand. God, what he wouldn’t give to be in his bunk right now. Why can’t he sleep in Gravity Falls? It was his home for years. He’s slept peacefully in a miniscule bed with Fiddleford more times than he can count, so the gigantic piece of real estate Fiddleford calls a mattress should pose no problem. There’s just nothing that accounts for Ford’s failure in this department.
Ford feels a hand in his hair, hears the thud of a large mug of coffee being set on the table before him.
“Not every robot and elixir I rustle up is inspired by cartoons. I was actually thinkin’ bout something that’d take care of the Mystery Shack’s roofin’ problems. Poor Soos’s got his hands full, and Mabel told me she and Dipper did the retiling last summer.” Fidds takes a slurping sip of coffee, reminding Ford to do the same, savoring the burning feeling as it pours down his throat and into his belly. “And no offense to those two, but they’re no kinda roofers. Somethin’s gotta be done.”
“That’s kind of you,” Ford says, leaning into Fiddleford’s hand.
“I try,” Fidds says fondly.
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twopoppies · 1 year
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toxic anon here🙋‍♀️ Fine Line, Boyfriends, To Be So Lonely and Written all over your face just sound toxic to me idk :(
Hi sugar. IMO Fine Line is absolutely not about their relationship. I don’t read it that way at all. To me, that song is Harry’s struggle and coming to terms with with his gender identity. And it’s such a positive song in the end, anyway.
Boyfriends I, personally, think is Harry looking at his own behavior and calling himself out in an attempt to do better (and, probably, just talking about boyfriends, in general). But I don’t think it’s a 100% accurate reading of Harry’s behavior—more like a castigation and an exaggeration for storytelling purposes.
TBSL, was likely written as a stunt song since it’s placed alongside Falling and Cherry on an album that we’re meant to think is about Camille Rowe. Again, I think it’s about Harry (because I think he tends to write more about himself and his view of life/the world etc, than anything else) and because there’s a stunt narrative to fulfill, I’d be more likely to imagine it’s a song about a disagreement/time apart from Louis and is, again, calling himself out for his perceived flaws (jealous, arrogant, drunk calling, petty, needy etc). I think it’s actually really healthy that he’s aware of his tendencies, even if I do think he’s rather hard on himself. If you look at Louis’ songs in relation to Harry’s, you’ll see that Louis tends to blame himself, as well.
And I answered about WAOYF in another ask, but I read the lyrics as being about fighting with your partner, as one tends to do in a long term relationship, and storytelling in a way that makes it more interesting.
My take away from their songs is that they both have their shortcomings when it comes to healthy communication (as many people do), but their relationship is important to them and looking at your own behavior only helps you change.
If all of their music was about fighting, I’d say you might be right. But we also have so many songs where they express working on their relationship and loving each other deeply. I guess I just see it as partners learning to have healthy communication as opposed to toxic.
In reference to this
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ciaossu-imagines · 11 months
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I’m still in love with K all these years later and definitely so for Homra’s alphabet boys! I had so much fun writing these headcanons, based off this prompt here, for them and hope you all will enjoy reading them!
Shouhei Akagi
Favourite fruit?
I feel like it’s either some type of melon or possibly berries. For melons, though, he’d prefer something along the lines of a honeydew or cantaloupe over watermelon…I mean, he’ll still eat watermelon and enjoy it but he just prefers something with a little more flavour overall. For berries, I can see him liking blueberries or blackberries the best, just something a little tart but still sweet all at once.
Do they eat healthy or do they like junk food?
It’s kind of a mixture of both. He’ll eat junk because it’s more readily available quite a bit, but he can only go so long with eating just junk food, maybe a couple days, before he actually out and outright needs something better for him. Some food can be filling and a full meal, like pizza or fried chicken, so it’s not so much that he won’t be getting his calorie count in. It’s just that after eating nothing but junk for a bit, he notices his body just doesn’t feel right and he won’t have as much energy as he needs to, not to mention that his stomach is…irritable, to say the least. He’ll start craving healthier foods and he’ll make it more of a point to eat a bit healthier for a week or two, just to get his body back to feeling right.
Tea or coffee? How do they take theirs?
Shouhei will honestly drink both. He likes both fairly equally; it’s really not a one or the other situation to him. He drinks his tea plain and prefers it cold to hot but he does need to sweeten his coffee, but only a little, maybe half a cube of sugar at most, and he does use milk in it, until it’s more light than dark.
Favourite song?
Not so much favourite song in particular, but I feel that while Akagi’s tastes in music are pretty varied, he does prefer more upbeat music. Anything that makes him feel like moving is pretty up his alley. I think he goes for rock more often but has no problem with more poppy music and definitely has at least one idol or idol group that he’s a fan of.
Have they ever killed someone?
While he does have no issues with resorting to violence, and he has probably sent people to the hospital, Shouhei has never killed someone. He has no desire too. Beating a person up until they need medical attention is one thing, but I don’t think he could stomach outright killing anyone.
Saburota Bando
Favourite meal?
I feel like Bando really eats a lot of cup noodles and, other than that, he really likes street food. Okonomiyaki is one of his favourites.
Usual outfit?
Most of his clothing is very casual and, even when the weather is warm, it always includes a hoodie and his trademark sunglasses (and I strongly headcanon that those are prescription and expensive and he’s always a little annoyed when they get broken because, like, those things cost money and he does not have money so…).
What does their living space look like?
It’s…sparse, honestly. I don’t think he decorates a lot, and his living space is very minimalistic looking. It’s always just a little messy. Not a mess; Bando is generally pretty clean. Just always a little messy, with a dish or two still sitting where he left them or papers just kind of strewn about in a small area from where he’d last been using them.
Do they like hot or cold showers?
It depends on a lot. I’d say about 90% of the time, he likes hot showers. Not to the ‘scorch your skin off’ degree, but definitely warm. But if it’s really hot and muggy out and he’s sweating his ass off, there’s nothing quite like a cold shower. And when Bando can’t sleep for whatever reason, a cold shower followed by warm milk with cinnamon and honey and crawling under enough layers of blankets to make him really toasty warm…it’s almost always guaranteed to get him to sleep within ten to twenty minutes of getting into bed.
Sleeping position?
I feel like he falls asleep on his back most of the time, one arm over his eyes and the other slightly to the side. The way he wakes up though?? Definitely not in that same position, nowhere near it, and, for a guy who isn’t flexible, you wonder how he ended up in those positions.
Yo Chitose
Have they ever broken the law?
Chitose wouldn’t outright answer this question ever, but he is a part of HOMRA, with all that entails so I feel the answer is pretty clearly obvious.
Are they athletic?
Yes. Chitose is actually really athletic naturally and he’d be good at a lot of sports. It’s just that they’re not his thing. Maybe back when he was younger…he might even have been on a couple of teams. Always was one of the first five in races. But he just doesn’t really care about any sports too much anymore. He’s not that motivated to be really athletic, and his smoking habit is costing him some of his quickness, but he’s still one of the more athletic members of HOMRA.
Favourite type of flower?
I feel like, both for the meaning behind the flower, which he once learned from a previous lover, and for how they look, he likes cyclamen’s the best.
Do they play any instruments?
I honestly don’t see him as having played any instruments, other than the ones that might have been required for a school glass and even then, he didn’t play them well. Though he works hard and definitely could learn to play an instrument, he just doesn’t have a musical ear and doesn’t understand the finer points of rhythm and tempo, keeping time, different pitches because it all kind of sounds the same to him.
Artistic ability?
Chitose’s fairly middle of the road when it comes to artistic ability. He’s not laughably horrible at it like some other members of K that will remain unnamed (mostly because it’s the King – Mikoto’s drawings look like something someone’s toddler aged kid drew them). But he’s not absolutely fantastic at it and he really doesn’t have much of an enthusiasm for it. He’s never motivated to go and learn to improve his artistic abilities or to sit down and seriously draw something.
Masaomi Dewa
Have they ever gotten seriously ill?
Masaomi is missing organs. He has neither his tonsils nor his appendix. He had frequent bouts of tonsilitis as a young child, to the point the doctors just removed his tonsils and he had to have emergency surgery as a preteen for a bad case of appendicitis. Other than that, though, Masaomi is pretty healthy and after those two things, he hasn’t been seriously ill since.
Do they like sleeping in or waking up early?
He’s an early bird by nature and he does tend to wake up early. Given the people he hangs out with though and how late he’s normally up, even with consistently waking up early, he tends to fall back asleep pretty quickly after that initial wake-up and sleeps in a bit more. He’s normally up by nine in the morning at the latest though because his internal clock just doesn’t let him sleep too far past that.
The longest they’ve ever been awake?
I feel like Dewa’s not the type to stay awake. He likes sleep; he recognizes the importance of sleep. He doesn’t tend to stay awake for days at a time or anything. He might have pulled an all-nighter once or twice in his life but normally, he makes sure he sleeps every day, even if it’s just crashing out for an hour or two.
Random detail about them.
His father wears hats too and it’s part of what got Dewa into them. His father does it though because male pattern baldness runs in Dewa’s family and, by the time they’re hitting their forties, most of the men in his family are starting to thin and bald.
Something other’s do that gets on their nerves?
Okay, but it’s canon and everyone knows how much Masaomi loves spicy foods. He can handle food that is ‘too hot’ for most other people he knows and he frequents restaurants that serve spicy dishes. And it always pisses him off whenever he sees people at those restaurants bragging about the level of spice they can handle and arguing with the servers who try to warn customers about really hot dishes. Because most of the time, those same customers can’t handle dishes that hot and then get pissy at the servers and demand a different meal on the house.
Eric Solt
Do they drink or do drugs?
I feel like Eric might drink, but he doesn’t drink heavily. He’s more the type to nurse one or two drinks throughout the night because he gets drunk really quick and just doesn’t really like the taste of most liquor either.
As a kid, what were they like?
Eric’s past is…heart-breaking, honestly. Canonically, he just had a horrible, abusive childhood for the most part, after his parent’s died. Because of that, he became withdrawn, quiet, a little scared all the time. He was jumpy, irritable when he did talk, but mostly he just tried to stay out of the way.
Do they have a sweet tooth?
He actually does. He wasn’t given much in the way of sweets after his parents’ deaths, but he remembers getting sweets a lot as a child when his parents were still around, mostly because his mother had a huge sweet tooth of her own. So sweet things do bring up painful, but still sweet and nice, memories of his parents and honestly, they just taste really yummy.
How old are they?
I had to go look this one up because it’s been a while but canonically, he’s 18. I hadn’t really thought about how he’s one of the younger members of HOMRA!
Can they sing?
It’s not whether or not he can sing. I honestly think he has a quavery, but pleasant, singing voice. It’s that Eric doesn’t like to sing. He’ll never be a person to make a lot of noise and he also has a hard time remembering song lyrics so singing just isn’t something he does.
Kousuke Fujishima
What makes them feel better after a long day?
Kousuke actually has a lot of things that perk him up after a long day. He’s pretty easy to please and he does always try hard to see the positive side of things. His friends, the fellow members of HOMRA, are a guaranteed way to make him feel better. His family does the same thing, as do animals of any kind. If his day’s been really, really bad and he needs a heavy dose of ‘pick-me-up’ energy, he’s heading to a cat café to play with all the cute cats, or he’ll go feed the strays at a spot he knows they always go to.
Parents?
Yep, he has those. No, but seriously, both of Fujishima’s parents are still alive. They’re happily married and have been for years. I don’t feel like he’s an only child, but I do headcanon him as either the oldest or middle child in his family, definitely not the youngest. He’s got a fairly solid relationship with his parents and gets along with them. He doesn’t cause a lot of trouble for them, and they don’t really get after him about too much, other than getting upset at all the strays he keeps trying to bring home.
Favourite snack?
I think Fujishima prefers chips. He likes a lot of them, but goes most often for soy sauce mayo or seaweed salt Calbee chips.
What are they afraid of?
Shipwrecks. He’s not afraid of the water so much but there’s just something about shipwrecks that he finds eerie and unsettling and that just shoot a bit of a chill down his spine. He also wouldn’t be too crazy about the idea of spending any amount of time on a larger boat either, or any boat too far out into the waters. If he can’t see the shoreline, he’s too far into the water.
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40 Day Anime Challenge Day 34- Most messed up anime you’ve ever watched: Happy Sugar Life (2018)
*Trigger warning: mentions of pedophilia and sexual assault*
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Synopsis (from MAL):  Satou Matsuzaka is a beautiful high schooler who has...a chance encounter with a young girl named Shio Koube [that] makes Satou realize that this is her first and only true feeling of love...Satou secretly shares an apartment with Shio. Despite her innocent appearance, Satou is willing to do anything to protect her beloved, resorting to desperate measures to ensure that their ‘happy sugar life’ remains intact.”
Okay look (I feel like I start a lot of these off that way lol) I’m a connoisseur of messed up anime. And something I’ve realized in my history of watching messed up anime is that most of the time, there are some redeeming qualities, especially if the anime ignores some of the more disturbing parts of the source material, particularly regarding children. For example, Kodomo no Jikan addresses the changing role of the school in student life in Japanese culture and the delicate balance between the school’s respect for family privacy and the duty to intervene in suspected child abuse cases. Bunny Drop and If It’s For My Daughter, I’d Even Defeat a Demon Lord both showcase found family and adjusting to the responsibilities of parenthood, particularly in a society that historically has not been friendly to adoption or adopted children. IF we ignore the fact that in the manga versions of all 3 anime, the adult caretakers of these 5-8 year old children become romantically involved with said children when they become teenagers. The anime studios felt the anime would be better received if they just stopped before reaching that point, which was probably a good move. So even anime that show some...less than healthy blips along the way (probably most evident in Kodomo no Jikan), there are some good things to be found.
Happy Sugar Life is NOT one of those anime. Happy Sugar Life is a “love story” (aka Stokholm/Lima Syndrome story) between a 17 year old girl and the 5 YEAR OLD GIRL SHE KIDNAPPED. Multiple people die as she tries to keep the kidnapping secret. Also for some reason EVERYONE wants to get with this 5 year old, except for the ones who want to get with the teenage characters in the show. I don’t think there is a single adult character who isn’t a pedophile and/or hebephile. The only person in this show who actually likes someone her own age dies for discovering the truth. And there was no real point of it all. All we really got out of it were glossed-over tragic backstories of the perpetrators that are somehow supposed to make us forgive their actions. And look, I love a good tragic backstory and redemption arc, and with the right amount of screentime dedicated to each, I’ve found I can forgive a lot. And admittedly, I’ve also shipped plenty of ships between an adult and a consenting teenager (who is usually of the age of consent in Japan.) But I have yet to come across a story that can make me forgive the two greatest atrocities of this anime: sexual assault against an unconsenting teenager, and a romantic relationship forced on a prepubescent child. (With sexual relationship implied but thankfully not depicted.) And if an anime is going to try to redeem that, it better try a whole hell of a lot harder than it actually did. Although (having lived through the 2010s and the golden age of villain redemption) I realize there are people who may be able to forgive this kind of horror, which can cause problems if they also start to forgive it in real life. Which we already see in too many court cases.
Basically, my criticism of Happy Sugar Life can be summed up as: it had too much harmful shock value with no justification for it. And this is coming from someone who loves shock value and finding what motivates these horrifying actions most are too scared to look at. I mean, look at Kodomo no Jikan- is it horrifying to watch an 8 year old throw herself lewdly at her teacher every 5 minutes? Yes. Is it useful to remember that there are children who act like this because that is what’s modelled for them and that educators, social service workers, and anyone else who interacts with children needs to be able to recognize that this behavior means something is horribly wrong at home and intervene appropriately? Also yes. Happy Sugar Life just didn’t have any sort of moral to teach underneath the shock value and exposed viewers to disturbing content for no reason.
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nancypullen · 1 year
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Fabulous Friday
Today was a fantastic day.  My sister came to town. We have so much fun together, we laugh ourselves silly, and we just get each other.  Gosh, that’s good for my soul.  We tried to take selfie.
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Our hair is telling you that it was a rainy day.  The McGlaughn girl hair is more reliable than doppler radar.  My Twinkie colored hair (half yellow, half white) is the bane of my existence, but I’m determined to see it through. I’m a granny, don’t judge me.  Look at my lovely sister. She’s always had flawless skin, ringlets, and an adventurous soul.  She’s what you’d call a once-in-a-lifetime woman. Unsinkable. Anywayyyy, today has apparently been all about FOOD.  I feel like I never want to eat again.  We had lunch at Earth Tones Cafe and gobbled up their Chesapeake Artichoke Bagel. It’s an open-faced toasted bagel topped with a mixture of artichoke hearts, spinach, cream cheese, mozzarella, parm, red pepper flakes, and Old Bay seasoning.  Holy Cow.  Earth Tones is a vegan cafe but this did not feel like a healthy choice....delicious, yes, but probably not on the American Heart Associations recommended list.  We made a couple of stops around town and our final stop was Craft Bakery because Mickey had asked me to bring him one of their maple-vanilla lattes.  Well, who goes into a bakery and just buys coffee? Not this girl. Two toffee bars, two blackout cookies, and one brown sugar and cinnamon pop-tart later, we left.  I tell myself that I only buy baked goods as decor.  I love having a few things under this cake dome, just because it’s pretty.
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That doesn’t explain why there’s a blackout cookie missing.  I won’t touch the toffee bars or the pop-tart but those deep chocolate cookies with a sprinkle of sea salt....they call to me. I wish she’d stop making  them.  My thighs can’t take it.   That said, my thighs walked me right up the steps to the Culinary Arts  Center to collect the bowl I painted a couple of weeks ago.  I’d participated in a fundraiser by paying to paint a bowl, and part of the price included a container of soup from Shore Gourmet when I picked up my bowl.  The bowls had been fired and I ran by to get mine.  My bowl turned out okay (I didn’t have enough time!) but I’m very pleased with the soup I chose.  Perfect for these chilly, wet days.
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YUM! After the tasty lunch and that chocolate cookie, I figured I’d better make a veggie heavy dinner.  Taco bowls with cauliflower rice!  My stovetop was busy. Black beans simmered with onion, salt, cumin, a couple splashes of hot sauce, and a little water, cauliflower rice in a skillet sautéing with a sprinkle of salt and a blast of chili powder (fresh cilantro would is perfect in this, but I didn’t have any handy), and another skillet with lean ground turkey seasoned with all the taco spices.
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Add some veggies and it’s a tasty bowl!
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This is one of my favorite quick dinners - full of flavor and checks most boxes for a healthy dinner meal.  Bonus, there’s usually enough left for lunch. Thankfully, tomorrow morning we’re scheduled for a guided hike (more of a walk) at the arboretum. Always informational, but mostly I need to log some steps (and eat some salads).  I’m hoping that all of the laughing today counts as an ab workout.  If only.  If that counted as a workout I’d be thin as a rail with washboard abs.  I laugh a lot but those blackout cookies don’t care. That’s it, my wonderful Friday - time with my sister and too much food. I’m a lucky duck.  I hope that your Friday has been good for your soul.  If not, I hope the weekend fills the gap.  If all else fails, eat a cookie. Sending out some love tonight. Take what you need.
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Stay safe, stay well.
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Nancy  
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relastelvanni · 2 years
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This might sound like a dumb question, but when you were gaining weight and ended up with your diagnosis, what was your diet like? Was being overweight enough of an issue on its own to cause it? Or was it more related to a high sugar diet for example? The type of gain (i’ve seen things where if your weight is centred on a beer gut its more risky than an overall stocky body for example)?
I guess I’m reevaluating my own lifestyle because i at least assumed that when people talk about risk of diabetes as you gain weight, it was just a thing doctors say to scare you and its more of a concern when you actually start hitting the much larger numbers. I’m not as big as you were (not sure what your weight was but visually at least) but i’ll admit i have a sweet tooth and my diet is very sugar and fat heavy, with the weight creeping up over time. I guess hearing your story has frightened me a bit and i should be more thoughtful about my diet instead of being in denial that i’ll be fine if i just don’t go over 20 stone 😅
Not a dumb question at all and I’m always happy to help others with advice and tips from my story. I hope you find this helpful!
Regarding my own diagnosis numerous factors were at play. I had gained a lot of weight in a short period of time between 2020 and 2021 - around 40 lbs (I was 265 at max for reference). And I was on a very carb / sugar heavy diet because I enjoyed it and like you had a sweet tooth. But I also have a family history of diabetes and a mum with Type 1, so I was always predisposed and at risk of getting diabetes. But I naively probably thought as well that it wouldn’t happen to me and wasn’t as vigilant as I could have been and by the time I realised it was too late. That’s my own fault and responsibility though. The other factor was that it was 2021 when we were in lockdown for long periods of time, and I wasn’t active enough. When you eat carbs / sugar, doing activity afterwards helps to burn off any excess. I wasn’t doing the activity and therefore my body had to cope with too much glucose and the pancreas couldn’t cope. Other things to consider is different ethnicities seem more predisposed as well to getting it, so something to be mindful of.
Doctors are a wee bit biased still against overweight people regardless of their overall health, but don’t dismiss them entirely. However, when I had my first checkup that confirmed I was no longer diabetic and was now 210lbs - I had reversed my diabetes, cured my heartburn, my heart rate was down to 60 beats per minute, and yet the doctor still said I had to lose another 20kg for no other reason than my BMI was still high, even though I was healthy. So doctors can still get hung up on BMI, but you know yourself how healthy you are, that’s what I’ll say here.
Finally, if you’re concerned, get yourself a blood glucose kit - I really wish I had done this sooner. I appreciate it’s more expensive in the States (not sure where you are though). Here in Scotland it’s a wee bit expensive, but good nonetheless for checking every other week. What you do is when you wake up, before you eat or drink anything, do a blood glucose check for your “fasting sugars”. This will be a good indicator of whether or not you are healthy, pre-diabetic, or in a diabetic range. That way if you start to enter the pre-diabetic stage, you can take steps to reduce your carb / sugar intake for a bit to get yourself to a more normal level (if that’s what you choose to do). If you are diabetic, then that’s okay too, nothing to panic about surprisingly - you can manage it, and it is possible to reverse type 2 like me. I’d say watch out for the symptoms. If you are hyperglycaemic (high blood sugar) then a big give away symptom is feeling you need to pee a lot and a constant thirst despite this - I only had that symptom one night, but doesn’t matter, that was a sign.
I hope this helps a wee bit Anon. If you have any more questions, please let me know. I tried to cover everything as I remembered it. If in doubt, test yourself regularly and be informed about your health. x
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weight talk under the cut
I got really out of my food and exercise routines during the months of the job hunt + big move + adjusting to new bleh work stuff (understandable) and my weight swung up quite a bit higher than it’s been in a while. but I did a pretty focused reset of my eating habits maybe six-ish weeks ago and I am starting to slowly see some of that stress weight come off. to be clear I like my body as is and while I have vague targets for where I’d like my ‘resting’ weight to be eventually I don’t diet or calorie count and I don’t stress too much about hitting certain ~milestones or whatever the way I used to in my lightly disordered eating youth. that said I think I do want to prioritize steadily and sustainably losing weight this year, for the following reasons:
health reasons (mostly my PCOS + family risk factors for diabetes and heart issues etc)
fertility reasons (moderate weight loss is supposed to increase chances)
🤰reasons (I’ve been reading about this a lot and if it’s within my control I’d like to make a concerted effort to not put on a lot more weight than I need to sustain a healthy pregnancy, especially since PCOS makes it really difficult for me to lose excess weight once I’ve put it on)
emotional reasons (this isn’t weight specific but: I feel a LOT better and sleep better when I’m eating well and getting a good amount of exercise. since I will have to go off most/all of my meds if I get pregnant I want to make sure I’m doing everything I can to take care of myself in other ways!)
I don’t know how long the IUIs will take, but I have budgeted for up to 6 cycles and I think I’d like to focus my food/exercise habit-building plans on a 3-6 month timeline. gonna return to this later today to do some more journaling and planning I think! but for now I want to stop & recognize that I’ve made huge progress towards the goals I set back in the spring 2020, when I realized I needed to change everything about my relationship to food/exercise. I eat SO many more kinds of vegetables than I used to and have learned to prepare healthy delicious meals. I’ve virtually eliminated processed foods + refined carbs and sugars from my everyday diet and have figured out ways to make that feel positive rather than restrictive or punitive. I’m curious about food and interested in new foods in a way I never was before like, age 27 lol. and I’ve experienced a couple stress-related setbacks (where I relapse into old eating habits) and been able to gently reset/get myself back on track. I consistently get 5-7 hours of moderate intensity exercise every week and I’m going to work on gradually building up to an additional 2-4 hours of higher intensity exercise at the gym each week. and while the scale isn’t everything, I’ve lost between 25-30 lbs (it’s fluctuated a bit with stress) in a little under 3 years. which probably isn’t as much as I could lose with crash dieting or whatever but my goal isn’t to lose fast but to lose sustainably in a way that gradually lowers my ‘resting’ weight aka the weight my body seems to kinda settle into. that feels really good to me!!! an average of 10 lbs per year seems doable and sane and not punishing.
it doesn’t make a ton of sense to set weight loss goals given the uncertainty of babymaking lol but if it does take me a while, I’d love to try to use careful food management + more exercise to slowly shed 5-7 lbs in the next six months, just to get myself comfortably into the 160s. the periods in my life where I’ve been the most physically fit my resting weight was between 145-150 and that 150 range has always felt like a good weight on my frame. soooo just gotta keep doing what I’m doing! working on building those good habits! tuning out the noise of weight loss pressure etc! focusing on what feels good for my body and self!
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sixthousandbees · 2 years
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so over the last six months I’ve been on ... three or four medications. and wowsers I didn’t realise my memory was so bad I can’t count to four. anyway I’ve been weaned off them and been med-free for nearly a week, so as to avoid inter-medicinal clashes and side affects.
This year has been bad on me. I haven’t been able to sit on my computer chair for at least a month. some parts of the floor I haven’t seen this year. A few months ago I tried to change the sheets and failed, and for months I’ve had the nagging need to change the sheets to no effect, and the foam mattress has been disintergrating under me.
Today I managed to tidy up a bit! I havent managed to finish, but I’ve got a whole garbage bag out, I’ve got the scattered clothes into a more organised heap, I can SEE FLOOR, the electrical plugs are no longer insulated under layers of cloth (yikes.) and I managed to put a sheet on a duvet. I am so pleased with myself!
The previous doctor had bloods taken and tested, as there was some hope that this was a glandular issue. All my bloods were great, which was actually shocking. liver etc healthy, despite the selfmedication of alcohol for years. The blood sugar and cholesterol were fine, despite my atrocious diet. In a lot of ways I have had good luck on the genetic lottery, with just one or two bad rolls for the brain stuff. But yeah, no glandular problem, so no easy solution :(
The last medication was real bad for me. I was completely exhausted for months. I was told it was a side effect that would probably go away with time, and I got shit from the doctor at uni for quiting it after a couple weeks because I couldn’t even move to go eat.
I think the recent motivation is the build up of two months of inaction, finally letting me do things. I truly did not take “being able to move” for granted, but having the completeness of the sertraline shackles lifted has brought tears to my eyes.
Of the many medications I have tried, only one of them has had a positive effect, and it affected neurodramamine levels as well as the .. other brain chemicals. I stopped taking it because the effect would only last a couple days, and then I’d need the dosage upped, and I read that its also addictive. Better to try and find something that works all the time than get hooked on something my brain is getting increasing resistence to. The current doc said there wasn’t any other medication that did that :(
I think the purpose of all this was that i was just about to start trying to draw something, and I haven’t been able to follow through on that urge in years. I truly truly dont want to be “medication bad”, and I am saddened that nothing has been able to work for me, but I am thinkign of extending this “no medication” period. I like being able to do things.
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ysapawithfeelings · 2 years
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From Basher to Believer
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I’d always been on the slender side from when I was a kid until I graduated from college. When I started working and adult life happened, my metabolism started to slow down. I had minimal movement and maximum exposure to all the food I could ever want in the world. When I turned 25, that was when gaining weight happened regularly for me, and family and friends began to notice. In hindsight, I wish I did something about it the first time it was called out, but of course, I dismissed the ‘harsh’ observations at the time, and I was probably in denial too.
By 28, I was officially overweight. This did not come as a surprise. However, I was also diagnosed with polycystic ovaries (PCOS), a hormonal disorder common among women of reproductive age. This condition was also a contributing factor to my rapid weight gain. My sugar was at a pre-diabetic level, and my cholesterol was sky-high. I started taking maintenance medicines for these – Metformin, Atorvastatin, and contraceptive pills. My OB kept saying these weren’t enough. I needed to exercise and stick to a healthy diet. I did not budge. Maybe it was a combination of stress at work, lack of time, and yes, laziness. I would rather sleep or hang out with friends than strain a muscle on my free time (which was not exactly abundant)—if you get my drift.
By 30, I was at 185 pounds and was diagnosed with obesity. In fact, dark spots suddenly appeared on my feet, as a result of “popped veins” because my feet could barely carry my weight. I would crash diet for several days and then resume eating unhealthily. I would also get nauseous from time to time because I also had anemia. The weakness and fatigue were palpable. People around me expressed concern more and more often. Some suggested that I go to the gym, but I silently sneered at the thought of ever going there. Because I didn’t know better then, I silently mocked those who would post workout photos, when in truth, they were worth emulating. They took care of themselves the best way they can, and not everyone had the will power to do so.
When I turned 33 and I got retrenched from my previous job at the height of the pandemic along with thousand others, I suddenly had too much time on my hands. All the books were read; all the errands were accomplished; all the chores were done. I guess I felt so sad and empty that buying a stationary bike online seemed like a good idea. That was the first thing I purchased from my separation pay. Side trivia: I never learned to ride a bike without the training wheels because my parents were overprotective when I was a child. At least now I could ride a bike without falling flat on my face. 😊
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It was probably around July 2020 when I started doing indoor cycling for about 20-30 minutes a day. On days that were extra dull and lonesome, I would pedal for an hour until I couldn’t feel my legs. That got me exhausted enough to sleep earlier at night. That was also the beginning of things changing for the better. I also decided to be more carefully aware on the kind of food I ate, but I never really excluded carbs and desserts. I still drink milktea as much as I’d like—but with lower sugar level.
By the end of 2020, I was able to lose 28 pounds, then 35, then 45 in the ensuing year. Whenever I’d get bored with cycling, I would search for easy home exercises on Youtube. I bought an exercise mat (which is quite tattered now), and I also did Zumba. I highly recommend MadFit! I didn’t do crazy-hard exercise routines that I knew I wouldn’t enjoy. I wanted to move, but I also wanted to keep it fun. I also chose the music that best resonated with my soul while exercising. The amazing thing was, I just didn’t feel lighter on the outside—I also felt lighter inside.
Several months after I got hired by Accenture, I decided to enroll at Anytime Fitness, so I could still exercise on some nights after work. I’ve never been happier to realize just how wrong and ignorant I was back then about people who went to the gym. It was a slap on the face for the judgmental person I used to be. Devoting time at the gym was not easy at all. I’d get lazy every now and then, and I'd bail, but whenever I did go, I felt physically (and even emotionally) better.
These days, my weight has gone on plateau, but the important thing is to keep moving—no matter how minimal. I have to admit, there are days I feel sheer frustration when I see that I’m gaining some pounds again, but I proactively remind myself that I’ve come a long way, and that’s enough. I’m still a work-in-progress, and I just want to embrace this journey, wherever it may lead me. It also makes me happy being able to fit in my old clothes again. A small win is still a win, and slow progress is still progress.
So to conclude this rather long story, and if you’re still reading at this point (thank you), I guess here are the “best learnings” I can share:
Something always seems impossible, until it isn’t. It’s hard to start, but all worthwhile things have to start somewhere.
Go at your own pace. Rushing to meet your goal will only birth frustration.
Don’t keep checking the weighing scale. The more important thing to check is how your body feels. The body never lies.
In losing weight, you also begin to realize you’re losing the weight of other people’s opinions that never really mattered. You do you.
It’s not always a bad thing to remember the past. Looking back reminds you of how far you’ve come. The first person who should be proud of yourself is you!
“And I said to my body, softly, ‘I want to be your friend.’ It took a long breath, and replied, ‘I have been waiting my whole life for this.’” ~ Nayyirah Waheed
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lighthouseborna · 2 years
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IMPORTANT  HEADCANONS  TO  CONSIDER
CAN THEY USE CHOPSTICKS: Better than he’d know how to use a set of dining forks I’d wager. Shipwreck is a proper melting pot of cultures, so there’s that, but it’s also worth noting that Elizabeth was made Pirate Lord of the South China Sea. Shipwreck is home, but I’ve always thought they must have spent a lot of time in and around Singapore in particular (given the implicated there is(/was) a heavy pirate presence there, and it’s likely where Sao Feng’s former ships returned to port and did their trade, and there’d be no reason to give up foothold there.) The point I’m trying to make is: Henry’s had a lot of exposure to Southeast Asian culture. So, yeah. 
WHAT DO THEY DO WHEN THEY CAN’T SLEEP: He can and will always find something to do, yes he wants to make a bet about it. He will not lie there and try to coax sleep into coming to him, it is always a fruitless effort and, far worse, it’s boring. He’ll get up and go on until he’s actually tired.
WHAT WOULD THEY IMPULSE BUY AT THE GROCERY STORE: Why impulse buy something at the grocery store when you can impulse buy takeout and then you have delicious local-business-supporting food and you didn’t have to cook it. He really likes curry.
WHAT ORDER DO THEY WASH THINGS IN THE SHOWER: Man,, I dunno. I can tell you that he is, aggravatingly, the kind of person who like. He uses the same soap for his face and body, and probably a 2-in-one shampoo, and he combs his hair with his fingers more than a brush or actual comb, and then yet he always has good skin and his hair is super healthy and never tangled and it’s just like. Wildly unfair. We all know that one guy who’s like this and he’s That Guy.
WHAT’S THEIR COFFEE ORDER: Definitely more of a tea person. I keep meaning to do literally any amount of research on tea types and etc. to give an answer about what his preference is but I keep forgetting. When he does drink coffee (relevant verses or w/e) it’s usually black or with a little bit of milk or creamer, no sugar. He does not have an informed preference on brew types but if he spent a little time learning about it he’d know he prefers medium roasts (lights are too floral, darks too bitter, medium has the best flavor balance.) ((He’s wrong dark roast is better.))
WHAT SORT OF APPS WOULD THEY HAVE ON THEIR SMARTPHONE: Listen. He’s got the phone so people can contact him. If it wasn’t an app already on the thing, the odds of him having gone looking for anything else to equip are very, very low.
HOW DO THEY ACT AROUND CHILDREN: I can’t imagine any large change to his behavior, he’s a pretty straightforward guy. He’s good with kids of all ages, because he listens and isn’t prone to belittling people no matter how young they are. Kids are people too. People who have learning to do, but still people. Definitely kids from like 4-10 are gonna be the ones who like him best. He’s fun!! he lets them do things that are probably a little ‘unsafe’ and he’s willing to play and be tackled and woah hey let’s go climb that thing or explore that weird looking place or---(!) Preteens and teens probably regard him with that “oh my god you are so embarrassing because you’re not embarrassed by this” energy and certain ones would be immensely annoyed by his teasing, but he’s still a Listener and man when you’re that age that’s so rare to come across so I feel like he’d grow on them, too. Very small children & babies make him a bit nervous from lack of experience and because they’re so little. Like physically so tiny and squishable. It’s terrifying.
WHAT WOULD THEY WATCH ON TV WHEN THEY’RE BORED AND NOTHING THEY REALLY LIKE IS ON: He would not use TV to fill a “I am bored” gap, as it is also boring. If he’s got the time for down time and wanted a low-impact activity he’d find something to read.
tagged by : @tiderider   tagging : iiiiiiiiiiii don’t know i have .2 braincells right now
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A Rudimentary Essay(?) About Being Chronically Ill
I have Cystic Fibrosis, which does a number of things, but the bare-bones of it is that my body has problems absorbing salt, and as a result, my lungs, digestive system, and other key parts of my bodily function are, a little wonky, let's say. My entire adolescence and young adulthood has been filled with a variety of health issues and doctor’s appointments that have impacted my school career, and continue to impact my ability to even get to work. It's tiring, both mentally and physically, and on top of that I also have to worry about Cystic Fibrosis Related Diabetes, from the wearing down of my pancreas and endocrine system.
The thing is though, I am intensely grateful I was born when I was. If I'd been born even 20 years earlier, I'm not sure I would have survived to adulthood. See, the thing about lungs is that, if you get a lung infection enough times, or if they deteriorate enough, your lungs can stop functioning. I had a scare when I was 15 because my lung function was down to 50%, and my pulmonologist was afraid I was going to have to get a lung transplant. And, you know, that may not sound too bad. But lung transplants only last about 3-5 years, if you're really lucky, and if you make it past five years, you're basically living on borrowed time, because lung transplants rarely last more than 10 years.
Luckily, I was able to get my lung function up during a two week hospital stay, but that knowledge has always stuck with me. Being a kid and knowing, very suddenly, that your body– your fucked up, annoying body– is probably going to kill you is kind of traumatic. Even now, I get anxious when I start having difficulty breathing, or when I feel mucus catch in my chest and throat. I’ve been in and out of the hospital many times growing up, and each time is just as awful as the last. I have a phrase I use to describe the specific type of depression that is a chronically ill person’s hospital stay, and it is the Hospital Blues.
The life expectancy for someone with CF was 8 years in the 60s, due to a combination of lung infections and malnutrition, I would imagine. It's been steadily rising as more research is done (and I recognize the privilege in having research done at all, chronically ill people rarely get the care they need and that’s a real issue) and more medications are released. Recently, there's been a medication that's changed my life, called Trikafta, and I'm incredibly thankful for it. My quality of life has steadily increased, and my lung function is the highest it’s been in years. But, the absence of the threat of respiratory failure has brought new issues to the front. My decreased appetite, for example. Or my irregular blood sugars. Sometimes, I really do wish I could be rid of these problems. They’re a pain in the ass, and they tire me out, and I never have time or energy to do the things I want to. I mean, it's enough stress thinking about how I'm going to figure out my student loan debt, or drag myself out of my room and spend time making food for myself that I may not even finish. But, that sounds like I want to be able to completely alleviate my symptoms, rather than not be sick anymore, doesn’t it?
I'd like for other people with CF to not have to go through the same things I did, with doctors not realizing that neurodivergency can have an impact on my physical health as well as my mental health, and with the anxiety around my lungs completely failing in my mid-teens, but I don't want someone to magically snap their fingers and make me "healthy". What I do want is to live a fulfilled life. But it’s hard to do that when people talk about “fixing” you, or making you “healthy” without your input. I had a doctor’s appointment recently, and one of the people on my care team assured me that they were working on a cure, and I’m not sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, if it would increase my ability to live the life I want, great! But at the same time…
I’m not actively dying. But I know there are some people with Cystic Fibrosis that are. Trikafta the “miracle drug” came too late for them, or they didn’t have the right set of mutations and couldn’t take it at all. Life for those people isn’t getting any easier, and just because I’m doing amazing physically, doesn’t mean everyone with CF is. It’s… hard, to remember that.
There isn’t any problem with having a gene mutation though. The only thing that makes CF a problem, is that it tends to kill the people that have it. My care growing up was completely focused on keeping my lung function up, making sure I could live as long as I could, keeping me as close to “normal” and “healthy” as they could. And then I went into the hospital when I was 10, and I resigned myself to the fact that my life would never be the same again. I’d had visits before, but never an overnight stay. I was terrified. I thought I was dying. I had no idea what to expect, and over the next few years, IVs became my sworn enemy. They kept bursting my veins, and it was painful as all hell.
As of right now, there isn’t a cure for Cystic Fibrosis. Trikafta works miracles, but I’m still sick. And until my doctor talks to me about something that could completely alleviate my symptoms, that’s not something I can think about. It’s simply not relevant, and I’d like healthy people to stop pretending like finding a cure is all that matters, or that chronically ill people are walking fodder for Five Feet Apart type romantic tragedy movies. (I have a burning hate for that movie. It plagues me to this day.)
A cure doesn’t matter right now. Why not just change society to give people more support, without making them jump through fifty hoops to actually have that support? I don’t want to be fixed, I want help that will actually help me, with managing my symptoms! I want not to be told, for once, that I’m not doing enough, and that I need to do more! I want to be able to live my life the way I want, I want to be able to tell the stories I want to tell, and I want to be able to live for as long as I feel able to!
Not to mention, being trans and chronically ill is its own special brand of hell because of the bureaucracy you're forced to slog through to even change your name in the system. It’s like they’re trying to make it impossible for me to live my life comfortably!
I’m so tired. It’s just the same thing, over and over again, and I’m never going to be free of it. It would be easier, if I didn’t have to do all of this, every day, every hour, every minute. But the fact of the matter is, it doesn’t matter if it would be easier. This isn’t some alternate universe where I’m healthy and was born without a genetic mutation that fucks with my cells. I’m not a thought experiment, and what you think about me– whether you think I would be happier if I were “cured”, whether you feel sorry for me because of the perceived tragedy that my life is to you– doesn’t matter. I am a human being, I am a person. I have been disabled my entire life, and I will continue to be disabled until the day I die, because there’s no curing me. This chronic illness is part of who I am. If it kills me, then it kills me, but until that happens, I’m going to tell my stories. I’m going to live my life, to the best of my ability, and I’m going love, and despair, and dance, and cry, and I’m going be okay.
I am who I am, and that’s never going to change.
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