#i want to try a whole fried fish so bad | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yandere-kokeshi · 1 year

Note

Hi, I would like to order with Yandere Shinobu, Tomioka, Muichiro and Kyojuro with a sweetheart who doesn't already have a balanced meal. Like she only eats sweets like cakes, ice cream, chocolates instead of eat properly. An L-type reader of Death Note, except that she is somewhat intelligent and sleep-disordered. Hey I would like to know how they would react to this situation.

Warnings: yandere behavior and slight spoilers for Muichiro's part.

A/N: Hope you enjoy :]!

Shinobu Kocho:

A smile that slowly dissipates when you tell her. What on god’s earth did you just say?

“Dear, that’s not very healthy, now is it? We need you to eat properly. Let’s go order noodles, hm?”

She gets very concerned. As much as she knows sweets are very addictive and quite nice, Shinobu hates seeing you not get all your nutrition and take care of yourself. That being said, she will force you to eat.

If you throw a fit or roll your eyes, she will keep her smile but threaten to dose you with some type of medication that will make you listen to her. She will treat you like a child, babbling about how sweets are bad for your health and how you shouldn’t eat a bunch.

When arriving, she allows you to get everything you want; except for treats of any kind. She expects you to at least finish the whole meal, if not half of it. Afterward, she will pat your head and congratulate you; maybe offering to get you a soft drink.

While she does worry, she will allow you to eat small portions of sweets. Only if you agree to eat the healthy food she gives you!

From now on, she’s expecting you to eat properly. If she catches you eating some when you’re not supposed to, she will get very upset and discipline you.

However, when she finds out you don’t have a proper sleep schedule, she gets very upset; slightly more than the food issue. Immediately, she diagnoses you with insomnia and gets you sleeping meds. She may or may not force you to take naps in the butterfly Estate during the longer days, making sure to drape her Haori over you.

Muichiro Tokito:

His eyes darken, quite upset at the fact you don’t take care of himself. At best, he gets extremely serious and almost yells at you.

“You need to eat. I like candies too but I don’t sabotage my health. C’mon, we’re gonna eat and order lots of it.”

While he pulls you along, he orders you what you like and sits in front of you, slurping noodles while waiting for you to eat. He talks to you, trying to distract you from your ‘cravings’ and offers some of his food.

If you throw a fit or simply refuse, he will result in guilt-tripping; making you feel bad. He will talk about his family, how his parents and brother were brutally killed; his almost dying from not eating well. How you are not eating properly hurts him, and he doesn’t want you to die or get hurt.

He may even talk about how if you don’t eat, he will force Shinbou to feed you through a feeding tube; he has a serious look too when speaking about it.

However, the minute Muichiro finds out you don’t get enough sleep, he’s a bit aloof. Ultimately, he will offer for you to lay on his lap as he plays with your hair. Maybe offering you food before poking your cheeks.

Although, in the future, he will make sure to check up on you more frequently; dragging you along towards his favorite sun spot as he makes you lay on his lap, watching the clouds and birds above.

Kyojuro Rengoku:

Also loves sweets but is very concerned! His smile stays on his face but his eyes tell a different story.

“Ha! Sweets are amazing! But you should eat fried fish instead of cake! Let’s go eat!”

Rengoku will practically eat anything, so the minute the two of you arrive at the restaurant, he’s chowing down on everything and encouraging you to eat. Specifically loudly at you.

Much like the others, if you decide to refuse, he will react negatively.

He will take the forcible lane (even though he doesn’t want to!) and pressure you into eating, practically bringing his chopsticks up to your lips until you eat it. Then he does it again. And again. And again till you say you’re full.

However, the minute you say you don’t usually get a good night’s sleep is when he spits out tea; frankly looking at you like you just called an animal ugly.

From then on, he makes scheduled nap times during the day so the two of you can rest! He’s your heater so you would be pretty warm. Plus, if naps don’t work, he can result in doing training sessions, small runs across the courtyard or simply letting him talk your ear off.

Giyuu Tomioka:

Doesn’t understand how you can like sweets. He’s not a fan of them, but he’s quite worried about your physical health. Like how are you alive?

“Love, that’s not very healthy. How much do you eat? We’re gonna go to the Yatai down the street and order as much as you want. Okay?”

Once arriving, he makes sure you get a big portion of food; a bunch of side dishes as well as some hot tea.

Just like Rengoku, if you decide not to eat and beg for more sweets, he will pressure you into eating. Pressuring you to open your mouth, needing you to eat the fried shrimp he’s giving you. He will even share his portion of food if it makes you eat.

Although, you make his heart shatter even more when he finds out how sleep-disordering you are! Just how much sleep do you normally get?

Giyuu will immediately offer to sleep on him, or rather take short naps during the day; not only will it help you but it’ll make him feel comfortable being around you more.

While he’s not the warmest, he will keep his haori over you and make sure no one disturbs the two of you; plus, he made sure to pack you some lunch so you can eat afterward. And yes, he did pack a small candy bar as a reward after you eat the food.

—

Masterlist || Please consider reblogging and commenting instead of liking, stay well!!

Do not plagiarize, repost, modify, translate or copy my work.

220 notes · View notes

steventhusiast · 11 months

Text

more autistic steve with ARFID (avoidant restrictive food intake disorder) projection time BUT this time a less hopeless and sad day for steve because i have had a good two days :] CW disordered eating

part 1 / part 2

since steve’s current period of bad with ARFID started and he told eddie about it, eddie started a nightly routine for them. every night when they get into bed and lay there on their sides, facing each other, eddie does a little check in. it’s always the same question: how do you feel about today?

it makes steve feel different things every time eddie asks it. sometimes it brings instant tears to his eyes because the day was so hard and he feels defeated. sometimes it makes him avert his eyes and pick at the sheets because he’s embarrassed about how his eating habits impacted the day. sometimes it makes his jaw clench in anger because he’s frustrated with himself and the fact that his boyfriend has to act as his god damn therapist every evening. it usually rotates between those emotions.

but today? today it brings a new emotion forward. fear.

because today has been strangely good. he reached his goals of eating a full breakfast, lunch and dinner. and the thing he’s most proud of is his dinner and the hours after.

recently, his dinner meals have been substituted for safe foods; cheese sandwiches, an apple, a packet of chips and chocolate bars. he feels guilty for rejecting whatever eddie’s cooked every time, but the thought of putting a spaghetti noodle or piece of cooked fish in his mouth makes him anxious at the best of times and nauseous at the worst. tonight though, he had felt hungry. the meal being cooked sounded appetising, and he ate it.

sure, it took him longer than a typical person would take to eat a meal. and sure, it was still a very safe version of a real dinner meal (breaded chicken strips and french fries). and sure, he had to distract himself a bit with the TV while he ate. but he ate. the whole. thing. the smile on eddie’s face as steve ate had made him feel so proud of himself, and the anxiety he’s been feeling recently during meal times had been suspiciously quiet. easy to ignore.

after a meal is usually the worst parts of the day for steve. he hates the sensation of being full, and feeling the food sitting there in his stomach, hates the knowledge that it’s going to sit there for hours while it digests. and sure he still got anxious tonight, but not debilitatingly so. there was no pacing back and forth, no self-harmful stims. he managed to just sit with eddie and cuddle him quietly while he practiced his breathing and watched what was on the TV.

so, eddie as usual asks his nightly question.

“how do you feel about today, lovely?”

steve hesitates and mills over what he really wants to say.

“..good.” he settles on, but feels dread pool in his gut as he says it. eddie raises an eyebrow in response.

“you don’t sound sure.”

“today was good. it’s just..” steve trails off, not knowing how to put his thoughts into words.

“what if tomorrow’s not?”

“what do you mean, baby?” eddie props himself up on one elbow as he speaks, brows becoming furrowed as he puts all his attention on steve.

“you were so proud of me today, for eating well. what if i wake up tomorrow and food feels harder again? i- i want to get better so bad and i’m scared that today was just a fluke or something.” he doesn’t fully think through his words as he talks, he just lets them spill directly from his brain.

eddie looks at him for a few seconds as he thinks.

“well, if tomorrow isn’t as good as today, we’ll still get through it, we’ll still try with meal times, and we’ll still go to bed just like this.” eddie says like it’s the most simple thing in the world.

steve makes a slightly confused noise. how does that answer his question?

“baby, all you can do is keep going for me. you’re gonna have good days, and bad days, and in between days. and i’m gonna be here for all of them, okay? i’m proud of you every day for different things.”

steve looks away from his boyfriend.

“it’s scary to not know.. i want this to be.. over. i miss enjoying food all the time.”

eddie gently reaches out and lays a hand on steve’s cheek, thumb rubbing back and forth soothingly.

“i know. we’re a team though, right? today was good, and instead of being scared tomorrow will be bad, let’s try and be hopeful it’ll be good again.” he says.

steve lets himself be guided back to looking at eddie’s face, and sees a wholly earnest expression there. he nods, takes a deep breath, and offers a smile.

he can try this whole hopeful thing.

#me but if i wasnt scared to jinx things by having hopeful thoughts 💀#steve harrington #stranger things #eddie munson #steddie #steddie ficlet #autistic steve harrington #steddie drabble #mywriting #cw disordered eating

67 notes · View notes

im-not-thinking-confetti-cannons · 7 months

Text

Day 10: Cockbulge

Warnings: none

Rating: E

Pairing: Raylan x Tim

Rachel's the one who brings up the subject of favorite meals, while staring disdainfully at some sort of lettuce wrap that’s sitting on her desk and looking mostly wilted. Raylan's tried to tell her before that Kentucky isn't the sort of place where one eats healthy, but – kudos to her for still trying, he supposes.

Trying being the keyword. She pokes at the wrap listlessly for ten minutes before knocking it off her desk and into the trash, and then leans back in her chair and stares at the ceiling. "Fish and chips," she says, out of the blue. "That's what I could go for right now."

Raylan glances up. "There's a place down the street that doesn't make it half bad," he says, but Rachel scoffs, shaking her head.

"Didn't you ever learn not to buy seafood this far inland?" she asks. "Or maybe you forgot, with how long you lived in Miami."

"Can't say I had much seafood in Miami," Raylan replies. "I'm a meat and potatoes, fried chicken kind of guy. And you don't have to be within spitting distance of a chicken coop to get good fried chicken."

Rachel laughs under her breath, and then turns her head, looking over at Tim. "What about you?" she asks. "What's your go-to, Tim?"

Tim shrugs, not looking up from the report he's filling out on his computer. "I don't know," he mutters, almost idly. Then: "Sunflower seeds, I guess."

Raylan and Rachel both just stare for a moment. "Sunflower seeds," Raylan repeats. "Last time I checked, that wasn't a meal." He pauses, thinking. “Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat an actual meal.”

Tim's grin is almost hidden by the glare on the divider. “I wasn’t aware it was a spectator sport.”

“Man cannot survive on string cheese and clementines alone, Gutterson.”

“And sunflower seeds," Tim adds, finally abandoning the report to flash Raylan a smile. "Besides, you telling me you don’t like your girls short and skinny?”

Rachel mutters something under her breath that sounds a whole lot like hopeless from where Raylan's sitting, but his focus isn't on her anymore. It's on Tim. Tim, who's flirting, if Raylan's experience has anything to say about it.

“It just so happens I like all sorts of girls," Raylan says after a moment's pause, just long enough to be deliberate, and something behind Tim's eyes flashes, something sharp and honed. It's a lot, Raylan thinks, like being stared down by a mountain lion. Or looking down the barrel of a gun.

"Oh really?" Rachel says, quietly enough that she could be talking to herself, even if she's not. "We never would have guessed."

And – they don’t talk about it, not in so many words. The three of them go back to work, and it’s business as usual until Raylan stands to leave and Tim says, casually, “You got any plans for the night?”

The office is nearly empty. Rachel is gone, and Art is in his office with the door closed, so Raylan just shrugs and says, just as casual, “I don’t know. You tell me.”

Tim’s eyes flash again, that same hunger peeking through, and Raylan hasn’t wanted this badly in a long time. For a moment, Tim just looks Raylan up and down, and Raylan’s not sure what he’s looking for but apparently, he finds it. “Give me half an hour and you can show me what kind of whiskey you keep on hand,” he says.

“You know where I live?”

Tim raises an eyebrow. “You mean, do I know the shitty motel you’re holing up in?”

And… fair. “Half an hour,” Raylan agrees. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Slowly, Tim smiles, and he doesn’t speak until Raylan is almost to the elevators.

“Well, now that I’d like to see.”

~~~~

As promised, half an hour later, there’s a knock on Raylan’s door. And when Raylan opens it, the first thing out of Tim’s mouth is, “All sorts of girls, huh?”

Raylan grins, cocking his hip against the door frame. “Don’t think I ever really learned how to be picky.”

Tim takes a step closer, tilting his head up to meet Raylan’s gaze. His hair is damp, Raylan notices, not soaked like he just stepped out of the shower but wet like all he did was scrub a towel over it before heading over. “We call that a slut, where I’m from.”

“Oh, that’s what they call us ‘round these parts, too.”

Tim huffs a breath, though the smile that’s making the corners of his eyes crinkle belies any true annoyance. “I honestly can’t believe I’m about to let you put your dick in me.”

And – even in jest, the thought makes Raylan’s jeans feel a little tighter, “Oh?” he asks, his voice just half a register deeper. “Is that what’s happening here?”

Tim leans in, putting one hand gently against the center of Raylan’s chest. He slides it up, until his fingertips are just barely grazing the hollow of Raylan’s throat, and when he speaks, his voice is soft. “Hey, Raylan?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

Tim pushes Raylan inside with a strength that shouldn’t be surprising, finding Raylan’s mouth with his own the moment the door closes behind them. He kisses like there’s a clock running down somewhere, frantic and hurried, almost like he’s daring Raylan to pull away. And Raylan doesn’t. Can’t. Not with Tim’s body pressed against his own and the swipe of his tongue over his bottom lip.

“Bed,” Tim says against his mouth, and it comes out like the only kind of order Raylan doesn’t have a problem obeying. He lets Tim herd him back towards the bed, lets himself be tripped backwards onto it, and he all but drags Tim down on top of him. And Tim settles astride his hips like he belongs there, like that’s where he wants to be.

Raylan pulls him down into another kiss, nips at his bottom lip and licks into his mouth when Tim gasps, all sweet surprise. Tim retaliates by getting one hand fisted in Raylan’s hair and pulling, and it’s all downhill from there, a mess of harsh breaths and roaming hands and both of them grinding against each other, trying to get a little relief.

Tim’s the one who pulls back, lips slick and bitten-red, and starts to fumble with Raylan’s belt. “Off,” he says, belatedly, and Raylan gathers up just enough coordination to help. Between the two of them, they do away with Raylan’s jeans, and then Tim stands to strip himself down while Raylan fights with his own shirts. No more than a minute later – and somehow the longest minute of Raylan’s life – he’s got Tim in his lap again, those long, slim fingers sneaking between them to palm Raylan’s dick through his boxers. And yet Tim is the one who groans, who leans forward until his forehead thunks against Raylan’s collarbone.

“Jesus,” he mutters, just loud enough to be heard. “They give you a permit to carry that thing around?”

And the thing is, Raylan knows he’s big. It’s not obscene, not by any means, but he’s a little more than proportional. The first girlfriend he had outside of Harlan called him gifted (the first one he had in Harlan called him “hung like a fucking horse.”)

“We don’t have to,” he offers, even if the thought is physically painful. He’s not a dick – not like that, anyway. But Tim just levels him with an unimpressed look and shakes his head.

“Where’s your lube?”

While Raylan fumbles with the bedside drawer, Tim strips them both out of their underwear. He mutters something under his breath when he settles again, his fingertips skimming up the length of Raylan’s cock in a way that’s almost reverent. “Fuck,” he says, loud enough for Raylan to hear this time. “Yeah, all right. All right.”

“I can–” Raylan begins, but Tim huffs impatiently, takes the bottle away from him only to slick up his own hand.

“Why do you think I stopped off at home?” he asks, and then those fingers wrap around Raylan’s cock, slick and tight, and any response Raylan might have had dies in his throat. The friction, paired with the thought of Tim in the shower, one arm braced against the wall, the other between his legs… if Raylan wasn’t achingly hard before, he is now.

Just a breath or two later, Tim is shifting forward, lifting his hips and lining himself up. “Don’t fucking move,” he warns, and Raylan obediently keeps himself very, very still while Tim starts to sink down.

They both groan at that first press, Tim at the stretch, Raylan at the hotwettight feeling that seems to radiate up his spine. He digs his fingers into Tim’s hips, ready to hold him when he stops for a breather, but he just… doesn’t. He takes it slow, isn’t stupid about it, but he doesn’t stop until he’s seated in Raylan’s lap, his thighs quaking and his pupils blown wide.

“Easy,” Raylan says, and Tim just laughs a little breathlessly, his fingers flexing against Raylan’s chest.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Tim asks, his voice breathy and not a little strained, and a moment later he starts to move.

Despite his words, he does take it slow. He does little more than rock in Raylan’s lap until his body adjusts a little, until the drag feels a little less like a vise. Then Raylan really gets to see him move, the way his spine arches, the way his hips roll every time he sinks back down. It’s mesmerizing, and it’s all Raylan can do to hold on.

It’s just getting good, the kind of good that promises a fast peak and the best kind of twitchy little aftershocks, when Tim slows down, nearly stopping, until he’s just grinding in Raylan’s lap. And when Raylan looks up at him, squeezing one hip in askance, he just flashes a lopsided little smile and clenches, hard. “Wasn’t done,” he says, and starts back up again.

The third or so time that Tim does that, starts to slow down just as it’s getting so good that Raylan wants to scream, Raylan decides he’s had enough. It’s easy enough to flip them, to get Tim pressed down into the mattress, without shifting from where he’s buried deep inside the younger man. And he expects a huff of annoyance, a little bitten out get on with it, but instead Tim just arches his back and settles, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Took you long enough,” he breathes, and Raylan figures he looks entirely too pleased with himself. He rolls his hips, slow and long and deep, and Tim shudders beautifully underneath him, his cock leaking against his stomach. “Fuck,” he groans. “Yeah, fuck, just like that.”

Raylan manages two full thrusts of just like that before his gaze is drawn downward and his hips stutter, his breath leaving him in a silent whoosh. It takes his brain a moment to make sense of what he’s seeing, but when he shifts back a little there’s no doubt.

“Well, fuck,” Raylan says, just strangled enough to get Tim to lift his head with a snappy little what now. Silently, Raylan reaches out, running his palm over where his cock is making a visible bump in Tim’s abdomen, and they both shiver and groan at the feeling. Tim’s cock blurts a little more precome, adding to the mess on his stomach, and the sound he makes is so close to a whine Raylan can’t tell the difference.

“All right,” Tim says, sounding just as strained as Raylan feels. “All right, fuck, come on, I want it.”

The words snap Raylan back into motion, and the keening sob his first thrust pulls from Tim feels like one hell of a reward. He keeps the angle, keeps the pace – keeps his hand there on Tim’s stomach, so they can both feel how Raylan fills him every time he bottoms out.

Tim comes first, when Raylan lets his hand slip down so Tim can buck up into his loose fist, but Raylan isn't far behind, spilling when Tim tightens and scrabbles blindly at Raylan's shoulders. His orgasm rocks him, feels more like an electric shock than a release, and it takes him a long, long minute to come down from that particular high.

Underneath him, Tim looks just as dazed as Raylan feels. Raylan shifts, carefully, leans down to kiss Tim gently while he pulls out, both of them sensitive to the point of wincing. He all but flops down next to Tim, and feels oddly relieved when Tim doesn't move away, doesn't immediately start cleaning himself up and picking up his clothes.

Before he can make the offer that's percolating in the back of his mind, though, Tim’s stomach grumbles, loud enough to be very, very clear. They both freeze, and then Raylan laughs while Tim reaches up to cover his face with his hands.

“I’m not getting you fucking sunflower seeds,” Raylan says, reaching for the phone on the nightstand. “Can you cope with pepperoni?”

And Tim tilts his head back and laughs, loud and pretty.

“I think I can manage.”

find this fic on AO3 here:

#justified #kinktober 2023 #raylan givens #tim gutterson #givenson #S1 tim was a twink and I just think Raylan should have taken him home

16 notes · View notes

autistpride · 11 hours

Note

Hi.. I hope you don't mind a bit of a long ask. So I've seen from your posts that you have autism, and I was wondering if I could have your opinion on something. More recently I've been questioning if I might have autism myself, but I'm really unsure about it and my family seems pretty adamant that I don't. The main reason that they think I don't is because they're used to stereotypes, and they don't think I could have it because I understand and use a lot of sarcasm, even though I've told them that it's a spectrum and everyone is different. Of course I know that your opinion won't make up for an official diagnosis, but as of now I'm too embarrassed to even mention that I MIGHT have it, because if I'm wrong I'll feel like one of those people who fakes disorders or something. So, if you're willing to listen, I was going to list out some of the traits that I've been called 'weird' or 'alien' over, and see if maybe you think they could possibly mean autism? I hope that's okay with you 😅

•I always get the exact same foods from restaurants that I go to frequently. If they don't have what I usually get, I most likely won't eat anything at all.

•Speaking of those foods, I always eat them in the exact same order. The burger, then the fries, then the nuggets. The breadsticks, then the fish, then the shrimp, y'know? I don't know when or why I started doing this, I've just sort of always done it.

•I have a huge problem staying still, something that I get very self conscious about in public. I'm always tapping my feet, rocking back and forth, clicking something in my hands, chewing on water bottle caps, and just generally refusing to sit in one spot. I also love to pace when I'm trying to formulate ideas, as I feel it really helps me think.

•I can't stand wearing jeans. I mean I won't go crazy if I have to, but they always make me feel restricted. I thought for a while that it was just how restricting they were, but I've found that other tight pants don't make me feel the same way?

•I DESPISE nail files. I can't explain it, but just the sensation of that sandpaper-like stuff rubbing against my nails activates my fight or flight response, I just feel like bolting it gives me bad goosebumps all over.

•I hyperfixate on stuff hard, I pick things up quick but also drop them hard. Recently I picked up DC/Batfam as a hyperfixation and I've been fully leaning into it ever since, spending pretty much all of my time making art or stories about it (Or at the very least thinking about the characters in some way). However back a few years ago I was hyperfixated on Markiplier Egos, and then one day I just.. Dropped it out of nowhere, and haven't been able to pick it back up since.

•This one's really iffy but I feel like I get irritated a lot super super easily, and I used to think it was just anger issues but for one: It's almost never something to get upset about, and for two: It usually happens when I've been talking to someone for a little too long or when someone interrupts my quiet time. So if we're going with the whole maybe autism thing, it might be overstimulation..? Idk..

•I'm super light sensitive, pretty much every time I go outside I say 'Wow it's bright out there" when I come back in. It's so noticeable that I used to not only notice, but attribute it to an eye injury I had once. Except that injury wasn't serious and is fully healed, so that's probably not it.

•I have a lot of trouble speaking sometimes. I feel like my words never come out the way that I want them to, and I often end up slurring them around so much that what I'm trying to say becomes pretty much incomprehensible, which always makes me frustrated because I get misunderstood a lot.

•I don't really understand what other people are feeling most of the time, and I get annoyed when they won't just tell me what they want instead of vaguely hinting about it and expecting me to know what they need.

•I'm always being told to speak up because I 'mumble', even though I think I'm talking at an acceptable volume.

•I ramble. A lot. (Sorry 😭👍)

But yeah, those are just some of the thing that I've been jokingly called 'strange' for over the years. Like I said earlier, I know that your opinion is nothing like an actual diagnosis, but hearing your thoughts on whether or not I might have it would mean a lot to me since you're someone who's been diagnosed!

Hi annon!

Let me preface this by saying I'm so proud of you for really taking the time to think about all this and dig into your life and behaviors.

Then to ask someone about it is very brave!

I wish there was a way to reply without showing your entire ask message. I feel terrible sharing your private thoughts with everyone.

I'm not a professional so I don't feel qualified to say yes or no. And as much as I want to give you some reassurance, I can't give you something definite. Especially when I don't know you in order to form a proper opinion.

Yes many of those things are things that indicate you could be autistic.

There is a lot of overlap and they could be things related to other Neurodivergent diagnosis such as ADHD, anxiety, OCD, etc and not just autism.

However, I will say if you're even questioning if you're autistic it's a pretty good chance you're autistic or some kind of Neurodivergent. Most neurotypical people often don't think this hard on if they could be autistic or not. 😉

You have put a lot of thought into this and my suggestion is to keep researching and doing what you're doing. Keeping notes also if you'd like. Why?

Because....

1. Keeping notes and continuing research allows you to have a record of everything.

2. The notes would also come in handy for if you ever seek an assessment.

3. With more time, you will become more self aware and confident in your thoughts on what you believe about if you're autistic. You can then sit down with your family and explain why you think you're autistic.

4. If the comes a time you'd like to try an assessment, you can talk to a gp or therapist if you have one and have them place the appropriate things for you to have that done. Your family needn't be part of the process if you're of legal age. But you may need adult permission for the evaluation if you are considered a minor.

5. Self diagnosis is valid in the autism community. Its valid because a diagnosis is very challenging for many to obtain, and in some situations dangerous.

This doesn't mean someone just wakes up one morning and says "oh I think I'm autistic today". No. They have done hours and hours of research and evaluated their own life, mannerisms, and behaviors, and said "I really think I'm autistic."

Self diagnosised individuals get the benefit of knowing themselves and finding support in the community without ever getting access to supports any official way. They can't get school/work accomodations, financial assistance, medical/mental health services, or really any supports put in place that require an official diagnosis to obtain.

Some would claim self diagnosis isn't valid due to exactly what you pointed out, making a claim of a diagnosis without qualifications and due to the huge overlap and other factors, but the wait times, cost, and unfortunately things like race and gender are barriers to obtaining an assessment and diagnosis. I know in the UK the current NHS wait time is 7-10 years unless you go private. I know in the US getting an assessment as an adult is challenging as most professionals won't evaluate people over 18 and the cost is upwards to $7k depending on location because most insurances won't cover it.

You are always welcome to continue messaging me. I'm happy to answer any questions and I honestly enjoy talking to people when I can.

And in case no one's told you

You're not broken, a burden, and there is nothing wrong with you!

Be your best and amazing self! ✨

#my asks

5 notes · View notes

calehenituse-brainrot · 2 years

Note

I dunno what you're going through, but allow me to gift you a fic! ❤

*ehem*

You've never been good at cooking. Well, it's not like you make the kitchen explode or manage to bring a dead fish back to life, but sometimes the soup would gain a mouth and the fried chicken (which you decided to fry whole instead of cutting it into pieces... Why...) would try and fight you back via fist fight.

There are also times when the lemonade you make would turn purple instead of pink, and wouldn't taste like lemonade but fucking strawberries and you just have to wonder how that even happens.

Where were you going with this?

Oh, yeah. You can't cook.

And it's not your fault. The instincts of being a witch is hard to let go, especially if this is how you've been since birth.

But then you've gotten memories of a past life. You've suddenly remembered a man with reddish-brown eyes and small smiles. Warm hands and soft lips. Arms wrapped around perfectly around your body. Waking up felt cold and lonely, and suddenly you've gotten a craving from a past life that you can't recreate because your new life instilled all necessary skills to survive.

Craving for the man.

And then craving for the food. Because food is number one in comforting a person.

But, well...

Witches are still not accepted, and should people find out about you, you'll be burned at the stake.

But, maybe you're gonna be found out sooner than later because you're losing against that motherfucking fried chicken. You should be winning because of your knife and your make-shift shield that's the cover of the pot, but the fried chicken is also somehow a master of martial arts and bitch slapped your weapons away before you could even attempt to stab it.

"What kind of witch-craft did I even--"

You looked towards the recipe book.

And found out that it wasn't a recipe book but your Witch's Tome 101 for Dummies.

You cursed and uncursed your past self. And then, you undid the curse on the chicken.

Well, you tried.

Because now the chicken decided you weren't worth the trouble anymore and opened the locks of your window. THE CHICKEN DIDN'T EVEN HAVE FINGERS HOW THE FUCK DID IT EVEN--

You tried to stop it, tried to grab it before it could happily jump into freedom, but it jumped and will now be seen by hundreds of people.

This is it. This is how you'll die.

The fried chicken is running loose in the city all because you had a dream of a past life and craved for food from it.

(Actually, you craved the hot man in it, so the next best thing was the food.)

Ha.

Hahaha.

You're so dead...

A knock on the door has you hitching your breath. Your forehead is somehow beaded with sweat, and you have to wonder if the people are now out to get you.

It hadn't even been minutes since the fried chicken decided it wanted a life for itself outside the four walls of your home.

With shaking hands, you unlocked your door, and slightly opened it to see who's at the other side.

A man... A beautiful man, mind you, was standing at the other side of the door with a scary swordsman behind him.

And... Shiiiiiiiiit...

The scary swordsman has the fried chicken wrapped up in thick rope. Serves that chicken right! BUT ALSO--

"Miss? I think you should let us inside."

You gulped.

You suddenly remembered who this beautiful man is.

Cale Henituse. The man. The myth. The legend himself was standing at your doorstep, probably ready to slay you if you say even the wrong thing.

And so, accepting your fate, you decided death via beautiful man wouldn't be so bad.

Stupid craving for beautiful men and fried chicken. Haaaaaaa....

Annnnd that's it! Witch!Reader and some very innaccurate witch craft finding her connection to her past lover via enchanted fried chicken! I hope you like it! ❤

OH MY GOD🥺🥺🥺

THIS IS SO CUTE ??? THANK YOU SO MUCH YOURE AMAZING AT THIS!!!

i was having pretty tiring day lately and this definitely lifted my mood🥺💗

also,

🥺🥺 you're making me wanna write thisISJSBWK i could write a witch!reader x cale but it probabily would end up making no sense since the only kinda witchy thing i do is tarot and im not even good at it😭😵‍💫

#totcf #trash of the counts family #lout of count's family #trash of the count's family #cale henituse #tcf cale #cale henituse x reader #x reader #answered ask #ask me stuff

96 notes · View notes

crescentblossom66 · 1 year

Text

Birkea

“Wow this whole building is huge! Are you sure they're only selling furniture?” Hat Kid asked as she exited the car and looked around the huge parking lot.

“Yes, dearie. They sell household appliances too.” Cooking Cat answered as she exited the passenger seat. “-Thank you for taking me with you.” She gave the penguin a smile as he, too, stepped onto the lot and locked the vehicle after Bow Kid exited. "Don't mention it, darling."

“Let me out ye stupid peck neck!” Muffled yelling could be heard and the DJ just smirked and stifled a laughter, while Bow Kid looked around confused. Hat Kid just laughed at the silly face the yellow owl was making as he tried to yank the door open.

“You two really can't get along for two seconds, can you?” Cooking Cat asked and received an answer form Hat Kid, who shook her head.

“They CAN manage even three, if we hold the Conductor's beak shut, but that's very dangerous, he flails around a lot.” Cooking Cat gave the top hat-wearing child a glare, which made the smile of the girl falter.

“Can you let him out now? I'm so exited, that I can't wait!” Bow Kid jumped up and down, while skipping ahead with Hat Kid not far behind her. Reluctantly the penguin unlocked the car again and the yellow owl bolted out.

“Sorry, darling, the doors lock automatically.” DJ Grooves just shrugged, but the owl stormed to the other side with puffed up feathers, and was about to dispute the claim when Cooking Cat interfered.

“Stop it you two! This was supposed to be fun day for the kids, you know. It would be terrible if it got ruin because of your contempt for each other. Pull yourselves together!” She glared at them with her paws on her hips.

“Yes ma'am!” Somehow that made the two bickering birds calm down somewhat even though they sill glared at each other as they walked.

Hat Kid and Bow Kid had never seen a furniture store this big on their planet. The first thing they saw were carpets and flooring options the moment they entered the store. The adults soon caught up to them as they observed the various options, thinking about how they'd look in their spaceship. The next area had kitchen appliances, which of course made the cat stop to look at them.

“Go ahead if you want. I'm gonna see if I can find a decent skillet, mine is all scratched up because of the fried fish I always have to prepare so no one dies.” The penguin almost missed a step in his dancing routine.

“Darling, what? No food could be that bad, right?” Her face darkened.

“Don't EVER eat Mafia prepared food, sweetie.” The kids walked on and ended up in the bedroom section. Beds and nightstands in various shapes and colors were on display, the sheer variety was astounding.

“Hattie, look at that bed over there!” Bow Kid pointed at a beautiful canopy bed, the price tag on it was somehow the same number that she was fined for breaking into the studio. Hat Kid was more impressed by a little sleeping bag in the corner that she just had to try. Bow Kid continued to look around impressed by the items that she saw in every aisle, until she noticed something...she had lost all the others; Hat Kid, DJ Grooves, Cooking Car and the Conductor were nowhere to be seen. In a panic, she sprinted back the way she thought she came from, and fortunately for her, she found the yellow owl looking at a set of...building blocks?

“There ye are, lassie. Do ye know where the others are? I got what I came 'ere fer.” A low, voice made Bow Kid turn her head and smile.

“Aren't you a bit old for toys, darling?” The owl just scoffed and looked at the mini fridge the penguin held.

“They're fer me grandkids, obviously. What are ye gonna put inta that tiny thing, one small can o' beer?” The owl snickered while the DJ just rolled his eyes.

“No, darling, we're going to put some juice boxes for the little darlings and some water bottles in here. My penguins complained about the fridge in the studio being broken, something you seemed to have failed to notice, so this is just temporary.” Cooking Cat caught up to them just a bit later, however, they couldn't find Hat Kid anywhere!

They kept looking until they arrived in the checkout. As they exited and were about to bring their items to the car, so they could go back in and look for her, they finally found the girl. She was holding a shark plushie, and a small stuffed dolphin.

“What took you so long? I was done ages ago!” She shrunk down a bit when the Conductor rose a talon and was about to go on a tirade, scolding her for running off, she was thankful when Cooking Cat looked at him and pushed down his risen wing, which somehow made him calm down a little.

“You can't just run off, Hattie we were worried about you, dearie.” The girl looked down at the floor.

“Yeah, I got worried when I got lost, I thought you were lost, too.” Bow Kid looked at her a bit dejectedly.

Hat Kid looked at the ground “Sorry,-” when she smiled and shoved the dolphin in Bow Kid's face. “-do you want him, I named him David!”

#ahit fanfic #ahit bow kid #ahit hat kid #ahit dj grooves #ahit conductor #ahit cooking cat

8 notes · View notes

heroinejinx · 2 years

Text

‘What I really wanna say... I can’t define.’ (Flashbomb AU, part 6 of ?)

Part 1: ‘I’m a mirrorball.’

Part 2: ‘This girl is a gun.’

Part 3: ‘You make my earthquake.’

Part 4: ‘Don’t mind me...’

Part 5: ‘I’m feeling like a riot.’

Jinx takes Lux out to dinner and drinks at Jericho’s, and their connection deepens further...

Song inspo for the title is ‘Santeria’ by Sublime, because it’s 100% the kind of song I can imagine playing somewhere like Jericho’s, it’s a total vibe.

TW: drinking, mild sex talk, autistic overwhelm, gay panic - Lux is going through it

(5,114 words)

It was past seven o’clock by the time they arrived at Jericho’s. The restaurant announced itself with a green and red neon sign emblazoned across the front window, and the distinct, lip-smacking aromas of beer and fried food upon entry. According to Jinx, they boasted the best pub food in the under city (not least because they were graced with Ekko as a sous chef), and their music selection had never let her down.

‘Lots of nineties grunge and old school rap, real good shit,’ Jinx had told her back in their room.

***

The second Luxanna agreed to come along, Jinx lit up like a sparkler. Her excitement was adorable and contagious and hadn’t wavered since.

Luxanna tried to imbue herself with that same energy but came up a little lacking. Of course, she was thrilled to even be invited. It meant Jinx liked her, right? Or at least found her tolerable enough to spend more time with. Either way, she figured it was an opportunity she’d be silly to miss.

Wasn’t this all part of the quintessential university experience? Going out, making friends, getting pissed. Trying new things. She would’ve regretted it if she’d said no.

Jinx filled her in on the plan straight away: Jericho’s for dinner and warm-up drinks until Ekko’s shift finished, and then onto the clubs, wherever they wanted. Jinx also stressed that if at any point Luxanna wanted to go home, they’d get her a cab, which made the whole idea a lot more agreeable.

There were few things worse than being trapped outside of her comfort zone, surrounded by people who just didn’t get it. The thought alone made her chest tight. But without prompt, Jinx casually offered an easy way out, like it was the most natural thing in the world for someone to become overwhelmed and need to bail after a while.

For that alone, Luxanna was so surprised and grateful that she almost cried. No one had ever spoken to her like that. No one had ever related to her like that. There was good in Jinx, after all. A lot of it. Luxanna’s heart ballooned.

Having an escape plan in place allowed her to imagine how the night might go. She checked out Jericho’s menu online. The chicken tenders and fries seemed a safe bet. How drunk was she willing to get? Anything more than tipsy was usually a bad idea, but maybe, if she was comfortable and enjoying herself, it wouldn’t matter. The alcohol would help her nerves, too. Best to feel it out as she went, perhaps. If she overthought it, she’d end up too anxious to go, and Jinx was too cute to let down like that.

When the time came to get ready, Luxanna stared into the abyss of her closet. She’d accepted Jinx’s invite without thinking of what she’d wear. Whoops. Jinx’s patience put her so at ease that she’d forgotten how much she hated everything she owned, and now she was stuck in her own personal hell.

‘So, uh…’ How would Jinx say it? ‘What’s the vibe tonight? Like… clothes wise…’

Luxanna turned to face Jinx, hoping her helplessness wasn’t as etched across her face as it felt, but Jinx didn’t notice. Had she even heard the question? Buzzing around the closet on her side, Jinx was in her own little world. Luxanna smiled; she knew the feeling well.

She watched on, as Jinx picked out a black leather skater skirt that she was sure to look great in. Threw it to her bed and fished out a cropped t-shirt. Eyed the two pieces up side by side. Shrugged, as if to say that’ll do, and slipped out of her current clothes without a care. Once again, it seemed she had no boundaries when it came to nudity.

And, once again, there were those fascinating cloud tattoos…

At a glimpse of Jinx’s breasts, Luxanna spun back around, face burning and out of breath. She tried to focus on her own dire situation. Tried to ignore the naked Jinx behind her.

Quite some task.

She scratched at her neck, anxious. Right. She’d have to figure this out for herself.

So, what did Jinx’s outfit choice tell her about the ‘vibe’? It was casual but fun, a little flirty. Decidedly Jinx-esque…

Therein lay her biggest obstacle. Nothing she owned was Luxanna-esque, was it? She didn’t even know what that might look like. How did people just know what to wear and what suited them all the time? It was impossible.

‘Blondie, you good?’ All dressed, Jinx skipped to Luxanna’s side and threw an arm around her shoulder. Studied her worried face. ‘What’s up? You still wanna come, right?’

‘Yeah. Yeah, of course. I just…’

She met Jinx’s pleading, azure blue eyes, and a lump of sickly panic rose in her throat. Their faces were so close that their noses almost touched. Jinx’s sweet perfume crept into her head and lodged there, a smell she’d never forget. Aside from the stain of plum lipstick from earlier in the day, Jinx’s face was bare, not yet made up for the night ahead. Luxanna hadn’t seen her like that before. Exposed, for want of a better word. Without her mask. Jinx’s natural skin was almost translucent, unblemished. Her wide, animated eyes belied a tired map of teal and purple veins underneath.

Eye to eye, Jinx burst into a smile. For the second time that day, Luxanna wondered what it would be like to kiss her.

After the humiliating but admittedly hilarious rubber-gate, Jinx’s hands had lingered on Luxanna’s knees for a few, heart-stopping moments… Luxanna tried to suppress her desire then, yet it continued to stir. Travelled up her spine. Tingled throughout her body.

She shivered and shifted away. Let out an awkward little snicker.

‘You just… what?’ Jinx frowned, folded her arms.

Stood apart, Luxanna took in Jinx’s outfit in all its glory. The cropped t-shirt was acid-washed black, imprinted with the black and white image of a stationary car across the road from a huge ball of fire and empty bottle of petrol, with the words Rage Against the Machine in faded white typewriter font. This time, to Luxanna’s surprise, she was familiar with the band (well, okay, she knew one song of theirs, but still…)

The hem and collar were raw, like Jinx had taken a pair of scissors, cut the fabric into the shape she wanted and left it at that. She’d taken a regular t-shirt and repurposed it into a crop top that exposed her slender, tattooed midriff and hung loosely off her shoulders, revealing a blue bralette underneath. Laced, and a shade deeper than her hair, it was the perfect accompaniment. It was so Jinx, and so, so hot.

Hotter still was the skater skirt which accentuated her small waist, and the thigh-high black suspender stockings she’d paired with it, which were just… wow.

Wow, wow, wow.

Did Jinx have any idea how beautiful she was?

‘You look…’ Luxanna gulped. Bit her lip to stop blurting out a stream of compliments and making things awkward between them.

‘That good, huh?’ Jinx giggled.

Luxanna blushed, but she couldn’t think about her roommate like that. She couldn’t.

Jinx was a girl, for starters.

A girl who low-key reminded her of Catra, her number one favourite character and biggest crush of all time.

A girl who seemed to understand her on a freakishly profound level.

A girl who she’d wanted to kiss at least twice in the last couple of hours.

Oh, gods.

Okay.

She was crushing on Jinx.

Big time.

But Jinx was with Ekko.

Ekko… He’d be with them later, handsome as always. She smiled at the thought of seeing him again. His energy was so different. Soothing, in a sense.

They had a moment, too, didn’t they? That morning, when Jinx passed out in her bed, they sat together on Luxanna’s. Talked a little. Bumped knees. Being so close to him was…

Gods, how was she supposed to cope with them both all night? They were two of the most gorgeous and cool people she’d ever met and neither of them were even single.

At least with both of them there, there wouldn’t be as much pressure on her to engage in the flow of the conversation. They’d probably spend the whole time flirting with each other and barely acknowledge she was there. Didn’t sound half bad.

The best part of going out—well, one of the only good parts, really—was the people watching. That was much harder to do when joined by others who insisted on monopolising attention, but if their attention was already elsewhere, well…

‘Hey, d’you want me to help dress you, blondie?’ Jinx asked, breaking Luxanna from her train of thought.

‘If you’re offering,’ Luxanna snickered with nerves. ‘I, uh… I kinda suck at this, so, yeah.’

‘Pfft!’ Jinx winked, bounced back to her closet, and rifled through it.

As she bent over, Luxanna dropped her eyes to her feet and twitched her toes, refusing to check the girl out any more than she already had.

Was she a pervert? Was it normal to be that attracted to another person?

‘Now,’ Jinx announced, as she pulled out several tops of varying colours, cuts, and fabrics, ‘you’re packing more ass than I could ever dream of, which I mean as the highest of compliments, by the way.’

Luxanna blushed as she continued.

‘So, I can’t help you in the pants or skirt department, but you have something we can work with for that, right?’

‘I have literally no idea,’ she said, out of her depth already.

‘That’s okay,’ Jinx chuckled, taking Luxanna’s uselessness in her stride. Arms tucked behind her back, chest puffed out and head tilted, she looked Luxanna up and down. Her button nose crinkled in concentration. ‘Hmm… I’ll check what you’ve got in your closet, while you have a look at these tops I’ve picked out. Just, uh… just pick whatever calls to you. Listen to your gut.’

‘Sure,’ Luxanna nodded, not sure at all.

As agreed, Jinx began her hunt, while Luxanna loomed over the galaxy bedspread full of options. Listen to your gut. Jinx made it sound so easy, but Luxanna’s gut was screaming.

She closed her eyes. Held her breath. Squeezed her fists and the balls of her feet as tightly as she could. Counted to ten. Released. Opened her eyes.

Okay. They were just clothes. Bits of material. All she had to do was go through one by one and choose the least egregious piece. She did it every day, for goodness sake. They weren’t her clothes this time, but that was the only real difference. She could totally do this.

Half an hour later, after much deliberation, they settled on an outfit for her. Most of Jinx’s tops were either too skimpy or too tight, but something unexpected caught Luxanna’s eye the second she saw it buried in one of Jinx’s drawers.

It was yet to meet Jinx’s scissors, thank gods. The t-shirt was baby blue, and depicted The Smiths album, Hatful of Hollow, one of her all-time favourites to paint to. On top of the poignant design, it was a woman’s size small, which meant it hugged her frame in a way that flattered her chest and skimmed over her curves. She loved it. Could hardly stop gazing at her own reflection.

It was probably baggy on Jinx, she thought, then cursed herself for picturing how cute it would look.

To go with the t-shirt, Jinx selected a pair of simple black jeans. After realising they wore the same shoesize, Jinx also tried to persuade her to try something different on her feet—a pair of Converse or Doc Marten’s, perhaps—but Luxanna stood firm. Sure, her trusty brogues weren’t the trendiest, and maybe they didn’t ‘go’ with the rest of the look, but there was no way she was able to brave a night out without the comfort of those well-trodden soles. Not yet. Maybe never.

The outfit on the whole was a little mismatched, but she didn’t care. Not with that t-shirt on. It felt silly, but she’d never worn something she loved so much, and it wasn’t even hers. Everything about it felt right, like if home were a piece of clothing.

‘So, The Smiths, huh?’ Jinx asked, as she joined Luxanna in front of their floor-length mirror. ‘Good taste, blondie.’

‘I know it isn’t one you picked out for me, but—’

‘No! It’s perfect!’ Jinx beamed, more excited than ever. ‘Okay, now time for make-up!’

She fetched a well-used eyeliner pencil from her bedside table and moved closer to the mirror. Slicked a line of black kohl across one eyelid, then another, before adjusting each side to make them even. With her pinkie finger, she smudged each line out a little with the delicate touch of a pro. As she turned back to Luxanna with a grin, her lids flickered closed.

‘All good?’ She asked, as if Luxanna would have any idea.

‘Uh…’ Luxanna gazed at Jinx’s blackened, smoky lids. Examined them a moment. The look was grungy and pretty and… ‘perfect.’

Jinx smiled at that, pulling Luxanna’s focus to her lips, not yet made up with whatever colour she planned to paint them with next. Luxanna stared, awestruck for what felt like the hundredth time. Only looked away when Jinx opened her eyes.

‘Shall I do you?’

‘Huh…?’

‘Your eyes,’ Jinx teased, and they both collapsed in laughter.

***

At Jericho’s, Jinx led them straight to a corner booth, out of the way from most of the other customers. It was cherry red leather, and criminally comfortable. Luxanna settled in to her little nook, folded her arms around her chest.

‘Alright,’ Jinx leaned on the table and grinned down at her, ‘drink of choice?’

‘Uh…’ What did most girls order in places like this? Wine? Ew, she hated wine. Gin and tonic, maybe? So bitter, though. Ah, what about, ‘vodka lemonade, please.’

‘Hmm,’ Jinx nodded and pulled a face that seemed to say she approved, ‘nice.’

With a twirl of her skirt and a flash of thigh, Jinx bobbed along to the bar to get their drinks. Alone, Luxanna scanned the area. It was relatively early, so most of the tables were empty. Phew. The less people, the better. She picked at the skin around her thumb until it started to hurt. Cracked her knuckles. Peered upwards.

The interior was pretty cool, actually. Great big wooden beams sprawled across the ceiling, adorned with dozens upon dozens of beer mats, novelty bottle openers and other such guff. Each exposed-brick wall was spattered with similar memorabilia, alongside paintings of streets and landscapes, old clocks which had long stopped ticking, and, in the corner furthest from their booth, a well-loved darts board.

As she stared at the bullseye and encircling red and black segments, the chime of a familiar tune crept upon her. The music hadn’t registered with her before, but she knew this one. She couldn’t recall the song’s title, but the band was Sublime.

Garen and his friends used to listen to them all the time, back in his rebellious teen phase. She’d eavesdrop through her bedroom window as they wiled away the hours, blasting tunes and smoking weed in the garden when their parents were at work over the summer holiday, and wondered if she’d ever have friends to break the rules with like that. Life was so different back then. The bittersweet nostalgia warmed her bones. To that day, she couldn’t catch a whiff of a joint without thinking of her brother.

Jinx returned with a spring in her step and two identical drinks; clear, carbonated, each decorated with a slice of lemon and a pink and white candy-striped straw. Had Jinx copied her, or…?

‘It was two for one!’ Jinx exclaimed as she plonked herself down in the space opposite and slid one of the brimming beverages across the table. ‘Jeri’s a total G for hooking us up,’ she trilled.

A G…?

Jinx’s eyes were on Luxanna straight away, gazing with intensity. Well, everything about Jinx was like that, wasn’t it? Intense. Vibrant. In your face, whether you liked it or not.

As Luxanna reached for her drink, their fingers made fleeting contact. Jinx’s skin was cold but silky soft. She had a smiley face with crossed out eyes tattooed on the bridge of her right thumb, and her nails, most of which were chipped, were painted in a mismatched pattern of powder blue and bubble-gum pink.

Did everything about this girl have to be attractive? Seriously?

Nervous sweat beaded above Luxanna’s upper lip. She took her first sip. The drink was refreshingly cold and sweet, with the light twang of the vodka at the end. Thankfully, she’d chosen well.

‘So, Lux…’ Jinx smirked as she whirled the straw around in circles, clinking the ice cubes against the glass.

Had she noticed all that prolonged staring? Oh, gods.

‘It’s Luxanna,’ Luxanna corrected, out of habit more than annoyance. Sipped some more. ‘You know, you and Ekko always call me Lux, but I much prefer Luxanna.’

‘You don’t like Lux?’ Jinx asked, then polished off at least a quarter of her drink in one go. ‘Why not?’

‘It’s just… not my name,’ Luxanna shrugged. ‘It’d be like me calling you Jinxanna.’

‘Ha!’ Jinx guffawed. ‘So, what, no one back home ever called you Lux? Luxie? Nothing?’

‘Not really, no,’ she said. ‘Nicknames aren’t really a thing in Demacia. Everyone’s too serious for that.’

‘Dude, what the fuck? That’s so boring!’

‘Yep…’

‘Lux suits you way better.’

‘You think so?’

‘Hell yeah!’ Jinx exclaimed. ‘Come on, blondie. Lemme call ya Lux, okay? I won’t abuse the privilege, I promise.’

She definitely would, but far be it from Luxanna—Lux—to argue.

‘Fine.’

Lux rolled her eyes in defeat. She didn’t even hate the name that much when it came from Jinx.

She wasn’t sure she could’ve hated anything Jinx said. Not in that moment, and certainly not with the vodka warming through her.

‘I do have a question for you, though,’ she followed up.

‘Fire away.’

‘What’s a G?’ Lux asked. ‘I’m assuming you didn’t just mean the letter… Is it a Zaunite term? I’ve never heard it before.’

‘It’s slang, you know, like…’ Jinx paused to take a drink. ‘Mm…’ She swallowed, eager to keep talking. ‘Like, he’s a god, a genius, an all ‘round good guy… a G!’

‘A G…’ Lux nodded. Absorbed the new term into her vocabulary to use later. Took another sip.

‘Yep!’ Jinx chuckled. ‘Oh, they only had Sprite. That’s okay, right?’

‘Of course,’ Lux assured her. ‘Lemonade is lemonade.’

‘Wait, wait, wait!’ Jinx leant forward, mouth agog. ‘Sprite and lemonade are the same to you?’

‘…they’re not the same to you?’ Lux replied, now equally as baffled.

‘Well, no,’ Jinx said. Drank some more. ‘Lemonade’s like… sweetened lemon juice, kinda? And it’s real cloudy, too. You never made it as a kid?’

‘Nope. Can’t say I did.’

‘So weird,’ Jinx said. ‘We used to make it all the time. We’d try to sell it, but it always tasted like shit. Never enough sugar, and I’m pretty sure the lemons we used were, like, seriously underripe!’ She laughed at the memory, and Lux found herself beaming back, spellbound.

‘But then, uh…’ Jinx’s face fell as she continued. ‘Then things changed, so… No more lemonade. Heh.’

She drank some more. Half her drink was already gone, and Lux had barely had two sips.

‘Whatever.’ Jinx shrugged off the memory and resumed her striking smile. Propped her chin up with a fist, as the other hand remained occupied by the straw. ‘So, Demacia doesn’t have real lemonade, huh? First no nicknames, now this…’ It was like she was talking to herself, but she definitely wasn’t. ‘What else is different there?’

‘Well, let’s see, um—’

‘Is there pizza!?’ Jinx’s eyes sparkled, vitalised by whatever Lux was about to say.

‘Of course!’ She cackled, tickled by the question and how sincerely Jinx had asked. ‘Why wouldn’t there be pizza?’

‘Fuck if I know,’ Jinx snickered. Grabbed a menu from—

Oh. Lux hadn’t noticed, but there was a grooved wooden stand with two menu booklets slotted into it sitting on the table’s inner flank. On closer look, their table number was engraved in the wood.

Lux’s jaw dropped; Jinx had seated them at table sixty-nine.

‘What is it, blondie?’ She smirked, reading Lux’s face like a damn book. ‘Not a prude, are ya?’

‘Wh—? No.’

‘Really?’ Jinx tutted, shook her head. ‘You’re making me wonder.’

‘Wonder what?’ Lux’s voice cracked and she blushed beetroot red.

Jinx didn’t reply. Finished off her drink instead.

‘Anyway,’ she sat back, slouched into the sofa cushion, ‘I’m getting pizza. You?’

To Lux’s chagrin, it seemed Jinx had no plan to elaborate upon what she was wondering. She didn’t want to be grilled about anything sexual—not while she was still relatively sober, anyway—but she couldn’t take the ambiguity. Now that Jinx had started, Lux needed her to see it through, or it would bug her all night.

‘Sorry, um… Wonder what, Jinx?’ Lux gently pressed. Took another swig of her drink by means of a distraction.

Jinx cocked a brow. ‘You really wanna know?’

‘I have to,’ she said. ‘The suspense is killing me.’

‘Okay, blondie,’ Jinx grinned and straightened herself back up. ‘Well, I mean this with no judgment, or whatever, but… are you a virgin?’

‘What?’ She squeaked. ‘No.’

‘It’s okay if you are,’ Jinx said. Why didn’t she believe her? ‘We’re young, you know. Tonnes of people don’t have sex before they get to college. It’s totally normal.’

‘Jinx, I’m twenty-one,’ she asserted. ‘I’m not that young, and I’m definitely not a virgin.’ More alcohol. She suddenly wanted to blackout.

‘Sheesh, you’re older than me?’ Jinx went doe eyed, and the cutest little smile dimpled her cheeks. ‘Why’d you suspend your studies?’

‘Oh…’ Lux shrunk down a little. Rubbed her palms together as she pondered how to keep things vague, but honest. ‘Let’s just say I, uh… had a rough few years…’

‘Heh, same,’ Jinx shrugged. ‘Life, amirite?’

Her nonchalance towards Lux’s issues was soothing. Most people would’ve laid on an act of phony sympathy and pried further until Lux imploded. But not Jinx.

‘When’s your birthday?’ Jinx piped up.

‘The fifteenth of May,’ Lux said. ‘Why?’

‘Ah, a Taurus, huh?’

‘Yeah, I guess,’ she said. ‘I don’t really know about star signs.’

‘Oh, I have no idea what any of it’s supposed to mean,’ Jinx clarified with a short giggle. ‘It’s just cute to me, you know, assigning all these traits and shit based on nothing but when we’re born. Like, we all pop out of the womb as blank slates, right? Then astrology comes along and says, “well, you were born at nine, so your moon is Cancer rising, and your heart’s a turtle,” or… whatever the fuck it says. And people just accept it like, “yes, my heart indeed is a turtle.” You know? I mean, how fucking cute is that?’

‘Well, when you put it that way,’ Lux grinned. ‘It is pretty cute.’ You’re pretty cute, she wanted to say.

Her cheeks hurt from smiling so much, but she couldn’t help it. Jinx’s company was ten times more intoxicating than the vodka.

They talked back and forth for a while, with Jinx leading and Lux falling in line, happy to answer her questions. Jinx asked more about Demacia and High Silvermere, and how Zaun differed. She asked about the pizza, the food and drink in general, the customs and traditions, the night life, the music scene. There were a few things Lux didn’t know, but she answered what she could. Jinx assured her anything she didn’t know could simply be looked up later. No big deal.

Being around Jinx, nothing much felt like a big deal at all. Lux even ordered her food and their second round of drinks without getting flustered and stumbling over her words. Something about Jinx’s presence relaxed her in a way she’d never experienced.

That, in itself, was a very big deal.

Their food arrived, and it was as good as Jinx promised. Lux savoured every bite, and Jinx practically inhaled her pizza, but was careful to put a few slices aside for Ekko to enjoy later.

‘Sharing is caring,’ she winked, after persuading Lux to try some, too.

A waiter came to collect their plates, and they ordered a third round. Double vodka Sprite for Jinx, and a single for Lux. Jinx didn’t seem fussed, but Lux was grateful to have lined her stomach with a proper meal before any serious drinking went down.

‘So,’ Lux began, as Jinx made short work of that double, ‘what, uh… what was all that about today, anyway? You had a work lunch, or something? What’s your job? Ekko made it sound so serious, but—’

‘Yeah well,’ Jinx interrupted. Her whole body tensed. ‘Ekko’s a total drama queen.’ She tried to shrug it off like she did everything else, but it was obvious that something was bugging her.

‘Sorry, I shouldn’t’ve asked.’ Lux’s urge to pick at her thumb in distress manifested in a huge gulp of her drink. This one seemed to go down easier than the previous two.

Jinx drank, too, and they rode out their first uncomfortable silence of the evening.

‘Okay, look,’ Jinx said, finally relieving the tension. ‘The thing is, I work for a guy who… well, he’s kinda like my pseudo-father and my boss, all rolled into one horrific, nagging mass, you know?’

‘Lovely,’ Lux jibed. Some irrational part of her already loathed this man more than anyone she’d ever known.

‘Right?’ Jinx snickered in a way that seemed to say she felt understood. Seen. Shook her head in dismay. ‘I don’t know, he just… he always knows exactly what to say to get into my head.’

‘And he did that today, I’m guessing?’

‘Yup.’ Jinx’s face hollowed out.

Maybe it was the vodka, but Lux felt a desperate pull to embrace the girl before her. To try and make everything okay. To bring that radiant, infectious grin back to her now sullen face. Instead of a hug, she reached a hand towards Jinx’s.

Jinx made no effort to pull away. Allowed Lux’s fingers to curl around hers. They smiled at each other, warm and open, as Lux glided her thumb across Jinx’s knuckles, over her smiley face tattoo.

It wasn’t the same jolt of electricity she’d gotten the first time. This touch was on purpose, and all the more intense. She didn’t want to stop. Lingered a few moments longer than she meant to.

Jinx lingered, too. Studied Lux’s hand, then her face.

In a wave of panic, Lux let go. Downed more alcohol. Jinx needed a friend right now, not some sexually confused weirdo. Friends. They were just friends, for gods’ sake. Friends and roommates and nothing else.

***

The hours passed in what felt like minutes. The once empty tables around them filled with people, the music grew louder, and Lux’s senses blurred as her intoxication settled in. She needed her bed and a cool glass of water, but Jinx’s company was too good to leave.

Soon, Ekko’s shift was over, and he joined them at their table. Enveloped Jinx in a bear hug which left her ginning ear to ear. They ordered one last round of drinks, and Ekko scarfed the leftover pizza.

With Ekko in the mix, the vibe changed. Jinx no longer stared at Lux unabashedly, bombarding her with questions. Instead, she slumped over Ekko, invading his space like a cat. She leant her head on his shoulder, linked her arm through his, played with the titanium ring on his pointer finger, sipped her drink every now and then, and barely said two words. It was like Jinx was playing a social relay, and she’d passed the baton to Ekko. It was his turn, and all she needed to do was sit back, listen, and observe.

Lux understood. One on one conversation, especially with a relative stranger, was intense. She supposed even someone as outwardly confident as Jinx needed a break sometimes. So, she understood. She didn’t like the lack of attention from her newfound friend, but she understood. It left her cold and restless and confused, and if she was alone, she would’ve burst into tears, but just like always, she understood.

She smiled. Yawned. Said something about how cute they were together. Scratched at her legs through her jeans. Yawned some more. Played with the ice in her drink. Looked anywhere but right at them. Fidgeted with her hair, her nails, the napkins on the table. Tried to breathe as normally as possible. Kept yawning.

‘So, Lux,’ Ekko beamed at her. ‘Pretty cool place, huh?

‘Hmm?’

‘The restaurant,’ he said. ‘Cool, right?’

‘Oh,’ she said, no longer able to eke out a convincing smile. ‘Yeah. Very.’

As much as Lux wanted to, she couldn’t engage with Ekko’s small talk. Not there. Not then. Not with the music and the people and the smells coming from the pizza oil congealing on Jinx and Ekko’s shared plate and the beads of condensation on her glass and the swing of the front door opening and closing and the friends playing darts in her periphery and all that guff on the walls and the ceiling and the lights hurting her eyes and wow the music was so loud and—

Her head spun. She cupped her hands over her ears and huddled her face between her elbows, creating a barrier between herself and everything else.

‘L… Lux…?’ Ekko asked tentatively.

‘Okay,’ Jinx sighed. ‘Home time for blondie.’

Sometime after midnight, Lux followed the couple out of Jericho’s and onto the street. They hailed her a cab, hugged her goodnight, and she waved them off. Arm in arm and in step with each other, they slinked away to wherever they were going next.

Alone and nauseated at the back of the taxi, she cursed herself for having to quit the night so early. Dwelled on that parting image of Jinx and Ekko.

They were totally in sync. Totally apart from her.

Maybe in the morning she’d try to capture the moment in a painting. She could turn it into something beautiful, rather than let it fester and add to the discomfort in her chest.

Yes. As soon as she could, she’d crack open her new oil paints and brushes, prepare a fresh canvas, and get to work.

22 notes · View notes

just-an-enby-lemon · 1 year

Note

Is Gotham worth watching?

I genuinally have no idea how to answer that. I think depends on what you want...

It has some great moments and charactherizations but also some terrible shit, it's writing is questionable at best, the charactherization is very hit or miss and it's as progresssive as a Fox show can be... witch means it's deeply problematic. Deeply. It's portray of neurodivergency while trying (in the first seasons later is not trying just offending) is soo bad it's funny, it treats woman awfully while using all badass female characthers moments to virtual signal, it's a big reminder that DC invented the woman in refirgerators trope, saphic relationships exist only for the male gaze and gay romance is just Oswald failing in life and sorta queerbaiting also the show is very clearly copaganda. It tries to be more progressive and offer representation so it gets a D for efort. And I will admit I disagree with a lot of things in caracterization. From Edward having DID for no reason to Ivvy being a great characther (except the whole aging thing that was a crime) but in no way shape or form even remotly close to Pam. Jervis is a sex predator again (hooray) and Jeremiah is a mistake Jerome was already perfect as Joker why Gotham writers? WHY? Fries is... lazyly done. Harvey just isn't. Wich is weird as it was a great oportunity to make him be to Gotham what Lex Luthor was in the beggining of Smallvile (I mean Gotham IS an very edgy Batman centric Smallvile), a friendly seconsary suport characther who we rooted for even though we knew how it would end. I refuse to talk about Jim Gordon, I hate Gotham version of him with passion and would glefully kill him myself if I had the power to. But the charactherization I hate the most is Montoya. It was better if they just didn't had her.

That all being said it's super entertaining! I had a lot of fun watching it and it just grabs your attention because if nothing more the show just gets weirder and weirder and you need to know what they are going to do next. It's funny intencionally and funnier unintencionally. Victor Zsasz is one of the best characthers ever, I ADORE him (in Gotham, comic Zsasz makes me unconfortable more often than not). Gotham Oswald is genuinally one of my favorite characthers in general and my favorite Penguin. He is better in the earlier seasons but even in the later ones he is still everything my little zommer queer emo hearth wishes. Their Firefly was actually an OG version and was translates to comics as one of the various people to hold the mantle and she is my favorite Firefly! Still talking about og characthers Fish is my queen. It also has one of my favorite Bruce's scenes. Alfred (with the exceptio of one scene) is super accurate and a badass and I love him soo much. Perfect Alfred. Lucius Fox is my precious baby and he deserves the world specially in Gotham.

All in all it's good if you want some silly fun with compeling characthers but not really all that good of a show in my opinion. If you liked Smallvile the chances are you'll like it (i do think Smallvile is better but still).

#gotham #ask #it's a garbage fire but it's fun #also i don't know if it's controversial but it is edgy batman smallvile but with less tiny Bruce and more copaganda #so smallvile is better #but also AU where they share an universe because they should

4 notes · View notes

starry-skies-116 · 2 years

Text

Neurodivergent Elizabeth Headcanons! (Part 2/3)

Elizabeth absolutely LOVES to stim, most often by playing with her hair. She has naturally extremely curly hair that she loves to tug on and twirl around her fingers- the texture of her curls soothes her, and when she’s particularly stressed she tends to stroke and twirl her hair rapidly and relentlessly. She also loves to wear soft skirts and dresses for the purpose of twirling and spinning around in them.

Pigtaaaails~ Elizabeth loves pigtails for the sole purpose of stimming with them- literally this girl loves just twirling her hair so damn much.

Other stims include flapping and flailing her hands (and sometimes her entire body) excitedly, twiddling with her thumbs, scribbling down in paper and stomping! Whenever she gets REALLY excited she basically has no filter and can’t read social cues at all- she starts giggling, stimming aggressively, and speaks really excitedly and fast and in a passionate, loud tone of voice with both no filter and no volume control.

Exercise great caution when mentioning her hyperfixations and special interests with her around- she will JUMP at the occasion to ramble and infodump for several minutes on an excitement-fueled tangent about said interests.

Elizabeth when she was younger tended to mimic some of both William and Evan’s behavioral tendencies and mannerisms- William’s consciously, Evan’s subconsciously. It was basically just like how when Evan was an infant, he idolized and dearly loved Michael and wanted to be just like him, looking up to him and mimicking a number of Michael’s mannerisms (it’s the reason why one of the traits all three siblings share is a fiery temper and deep, strong and intense emotions).

Elizabeth is incredibly impulsive, although this is involuntary because she’s essentially dopamine starved. She’s extremely picky with her food and seeks out sweets (specifically ice cream being her safe food) just for a rush of dopamine that she gets from eating them. Whenever she gets stressed or emotional, or has an emotional meltdown or sensory overload, ice cream and gentle arm and/or back massages (while talking her down in a warm tone of voice) is a great way to soothe her.

Circus Baby is a MAJOR hyperfixation for her. That’s it that’s the headcanon. Also ice cream and French fries? Literally her safefoods.

Both her and Evan have terrible motor skills. One time she walked into a room to see Evan in literal hysterics trying and miserably struggling to make an origami butterfly for Michael’s birthday present and she never related so hard to her other older brother than in that moment.

Just like Evan, she is very touch sensitive and picky about what clothes she wears. Oftentimes she spends way too long browsing clothes because for the clothes she would wear, they had a terribly itchy texture.

Velvet. Holy sHIT velvet. Where do I begin to explain how much Elizabeth hates touching velvet? It’s just. No. Ew. No offense to any ND’s who actually like velvet, but for her it’s just terrible on all sorts of levels. It’s staticky, it feels icky, it’s WAY too soft and fuzzy to the point where you get static shocks, and it makes you sweat a horrendously uncontrollable amount if it’s in clothing.

One time Elizabeth had to wear a velvet and silk (holy sHIT silk) dress to a special event and she was just. Itching. The whole goddamn time. She couldn’t concentrate on ANYTHING because it was literally SUCH sensory hell. The very MOMENT she got home she practically RIPPED OFF the dress and just. Flapped. Just, y’know- FLAILED her ENTIRE BODY WHILST LAYING ON HER BED, FLOPPING LIKE A FISH OUT OF WATER until the Bad Texture™ went away.

Unclear instructions are the bane of her existence, and so is task initiation. “Get the thing from there.” Bitch what thing from where?? There’s a million ‘things’ and there’s a million more ‘there’s’.

Elizabeth’s short term memory is terrible to the point of being basically unreliable, and might as well be swiss cheese given how many holes it has. Whether certain bits of information can go into her long-term memory or not is a gamble all the time that she has to constantly make. The WORST part of it is FEELING herself forgetting- she could just be doing a random task, a thought could appear, and she’ll FEEL the information slip from her mind’s grasp almost on a physical level.

Elizabeth also gets understimulated incredibly easily without stimming, comfort foods, hyperfixations, an environment of optimal stimulation level, or anything of the sort. However, overstimulation is just as bad for her. But when she’s understimulated, she gets incredibly distracted by the prospect of dopamine, resulting in recklessness and impulsivity (not thinking things through and heavy insistence on sticking to plans she’s already made in order to earn that burst of short-term gratification and pleasure, similar to Evan except he by contrast voluntarily follows through with the plans he makes strictly).

Oh, and did I mention that this girl has literally no volume control? And is atrociously horrific at organizing due to time blindness? She also chronically loses items of hers due to a gaping lack of object permanence.

Executive dysfunction and procrastination go brrrr~ sometimes she wants to get started on a task, but her brain literally outright refuses. Oh, and long-term goals? She WILL cry- she had to do an activity in kindergarten one day when everyone wanted to set long-term goals, but her brain literally just lagged and malfunctioned like a broken computer when she tried to think of ideas whilst her neurotypical peers were so sure of what they wanted to achieve in life. William told her when she complained to him that the other children were just wholesale making stuff up, but she didn’t quite buy it- something else was going on.

Being incredibly eager to please her father as well as her superiors (but especially William), and getting incredibly disheartened and depressed and anxious of failure to the point where she feels like one screw-up could send her whole life spiraling down into the point of no hope nor return? My girl. My bestie. Have you heard of Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria? It’s the WORST.

Especially during her life as Vanessa her RSD worsens greatly- so do her ADHD symptoms, further causing her anxiety and making her spiral even more. Yeah, having an abusive parental figure in her life spelt doom for her self-esteem and self image since the beginning.

There could be pLENTY of food to eat in the fridge and she would just. Not eat anything. Because there’s none of her comfort food and all the food is food she’s supposed to cook first (blegh).

However, whenever executive dysfunction isn’t beating her up, she’s actually very good at cooking! She settles for recipes that don’t require an elongated attention span because she could leave the rice cooking and suddenly the entire kitchen is in flames the moment she looks away for what she perceives to be about a minute.

Elizabeth Afton RSD Queen real not clickbait!!!?!/?!?!//!?!?!11/?!/1!?!/

Overall ADHD gaslight gatekeep girlboss og. 11010139101010039/10.

#Elizabeth Afton #FNAF Vanessa/Vanny #Vanessabeth #Vanbeth #neurodivergent headcanon #FNAF Security Breach

4 notes · View notes

kellersunshine · 2 years

Text

Cameron “Sunshine” Keller

* gavin casalegno , male , he/him , 24 . don't suppose you've seen cameron keller around anywhere ? i've been meaning to return their stuffed stitch doll , and tell them i listened to saturday sun by vance joy that reminds me of them . i swear they're reminding me more and more of wide smiles and bright laughter, seriously trying to win at children's games, the scent of salt and sunscreen, confidently shouting a dumb idea, and "but doctor, I am pagliacci", each time i see them . hey , if you happen to see them , give me a call . especially if they're acting a little repressive , but if they're acting too energetic , that warrants a worry from me , too . with everything going on in town , i just want them to be alright . [ penned by cory , 30 , he/him , cst . ]

THE BASICS

Name: Cameron Keller [ CAM - run | KELL - er ] Nicknames: Sunshine, Cam, Kelly, Keller, Calvin Klein, CK Birthdate: April 7th (Aries) Gender: Cisgender Male Pronouns: He/Him Sexuality: Bisexual Species: Human

THE FEATURES

Height: 6′0″ Hair Color: Dirty Blonde Eye Color: Blue/Green Piercings: None Tattoos: None Scars: 5 [Right Wrist, Right Knee, Right Forearm, Left Ankle, Left Foot] Prominent Features: Curly Hair, Wide Smile, Big Mouth, Memorable Eyes, Long Legs

THE PERSONALITY

Aesthetics: Shining Blue Eyes, Rooms Where You Can't See The Floor, Laughter Easy like Breathing, Rapidly Thumping Your Knee, Stuffed Animals and Comfy Crashes, Saying Yes to Everything, Full On Bodypaint for Sports Games, Messing Up on Purpose to Make You Feel Better, A Slowly Growing Excited Grin, Getting Over-Competitive at Simple Games, Doing Things Because They Are Someone Else's Favorite, The Scent of Salt and Sunscreen, Enthusiastically Offering a Bad Idea, Not Knowing How Chairs Work, Desperately Needing People to be Happy, Where Did Your Shirt Go?, Weird Documentaries at 2am, Constantly Losing Your Phone, Drawing Attention so You Aren't Nervous, Clothes That Pass the Smell Test, A Fish in the Water Swimming Effortlessly, The Crunch of Fried Food, “But Doctor I Am Pagliacci” Primary Motivation: To Save People from Sadness Secondary Motivation: Finding Someone Who Will Take Care of Him Enneagram: Type 9 (The Peacemaker) ++ Positive Traits: Selfless, Playful, Energetic, Protective -- Negative Traits: Repressive, Forgetful, Over-Competitive, Toxic Positivity Cameron, frequently called Cam for short or just Sunshine altogether, is a relentlessly dopey and positive force on the surface. Everyone staring at the outside will notice that he seems unruffled, untouchable, and just completely silly and laughable and happy. Cameron makes jokes, wants to have fun, and often presents somewhat childishly to his peers. He’s all about everyone having a good time and being friends. It’s almost like he has a psychological need for things to be fun and light. Thus the name, Sunshine. Cameron is often described as Sunshine in a Bottle or some equally idyllic name. His friends, especially his introverted friends or the eagle-eyed, might notice that his laughter and smiles have a purpose. Cameron is endlessly self-effacing in order to keep attention off of people who don’t want it. Did you spill your drink? Well, Cameron is likely to knock over the whole cooler, or suddenly suggest that everyone go skinny dipping so that nobody is looking while you clean yourself up. His antics are usually a way to either break tension or divert attention in order to manage the mood of the groups he is in. He’s constantly in protective mode. He also is willing to go to nearly any length to cheer people up. He’ll do the things that are comfortable for you, that are your favorite, that brings you joy, and he’ll never once even consider his own feelings on the matter. His reward is his friends feeling better. Being happy. In fact, those closest to Sunshine know that he is self-destructively repressive. He constantly represses how he is feeling, because someone else deserves his attention more. Someone is in greater need than him, so he doesn’t need anyone to know he is sad. Instead he plasters on the fake smile and does something silly and everyone assumes he is okay. He also is severely co-dependent. Cameron prefers to be part of a group and will often suppress his desires in order to fit in. Sure he’ll go to that movie you like. Sure, he’ll follow your plan. Yes, he’ll join that sports team and give it all despite not caring about volleyball. Cameron hates being alone and will become whatever shape he needs to be in order to be friend-shaped. Thus, “but Doctor, I AM Pagliacci!” Cameron is the good time guy that is no good to anyone if he lets them see he also has real problems. So he doesn’t. But deep down, Cameron wishes somebody would take care of him the way he takes care of everyone else.

The Stuff You Need to Know

Cameron lives at home with his mother. His father passed away from a “heart attack” when he was young. It was the first big sadness in his life that Cameron just...bounced off of. It’s likely where his “push it down and smile so nobody worries” attitude really came from. This means that he’s also never really dealt with the death of his father, since it is currently sitting at the bottom of a mountain of personal issues he is yet to address. Author’s Note: Cameron’s father was a local cop who likely died from supernatural causes, but his death was simply ruled a heart attack. His body was “cremated” so who knows if that’s even him in there? Plotting possibilities exist. Just like he does for his friends, Cameron put his own desires to the side when his mother was diagnosed with COPD a couple years ago. He came back home to Queen’s Lace after finishing a single year of college, and has been taking care of her ever since. Cameron didn’t want to burden his only other sibling with caring for their mom, so he stepped up to the plate. He took a job around town that’s pretty flexible in case a medical emergency comes up and has been here ever since. He’s been taking online courses to further his degree while he’s here, planning on moving out of Queen’s Lace after his mom eventually passes away. All the while pretending that everything is totally fine. Being the only ray of sunshine in his mom’s life, and a lot of his friends’ constant counselor, means he can’t break down. Not yet.

The Stuff I Wanna Do

Give him a best friend(s). Preferably someone local to Queen’s Lace. Cameron’s lived here his whole life, so having a childhood best friend is high on my list. Diapers to Driving kinda best friends. The ride or die. The person who knows all the shit Sunshine’s been through. I’m also down for a more recent best friend, someone who only met him after he came back from college roughly 5 years ago. Someone who he likes to hang out with precisely because they don’t know much about him. Someone who doesn’t get past the Sunshine veneer too often. Having both would be intriguing. New Friend v Old Friend drama? Lesgo! Give him the introvert(s) he protecc. Cameron’s modus operandi is to make a fool of himself to make people either feel better, or to take the heat off introverts who are uncomfortable in social situations. So I’d love if he had an introvert that he could reliably do this for. Bonus points if they know he’s doing it. Maybe he did something once when they were especially down in the dumps and that cemented some kind of bond for them both. Cam likely drags them into social situations with promises like “don’t worry I got you. I’ll be your screen.” Give him a will-they-wont-they/love interests. Cameron is a virgin. He doesn’t advertise this fact, but he’s always been too busy taking care of everyone else to really have a love life. He does, however, flirt with just about anyone, and has kissed a ton of people. He loves to kiss people, and he’s equal opportunity, so men, women, and nonbinaries alike can all get some of his affection. So I’d love to find someone that he dated for a while, who maybe wanted more from him but he couldn’t give it, and they did the will-they-wont-they thing for a bit but it ultimately didn’t work out. Give him a work-buddy. Right now my brain says he works for like a cleaning/power washing company, but I’m extremely flexible on that job. So plotting up some kind of work buddy would be great. The job does need to be fairly flexible, or the work buddy has to cover for him often, because his mom is medically fragile so he has to drop stuff somewhat frequently to go check up on her. Extra points if, in their job, they’ve seen some weird shit they have had to rationalize, and then when the supes hit the fan both friends are like “YO! That’s what that was!!” Do Bad Things to Him. Obviously I’m bringing the sunshiney smiley boy into a supernatural horror mystery. So I’m expecting him to get shredded as a result of the RP. Getting turned into a vampire would be WILD for his character arc, but also just general death and trauma would be good character development. Trying to crack his sunshiney exterior and force him to deal with some real shit would be awesome. It could also lead to him having to deal with all the other sadnesses that he’s neglected. Or it could lead to him retreating behind the Sunshine veneer super hard and raise some red flags for all his friends who are realizing somethings wrong. Dad’s (and Mom’s??) Supernatural Connection. Cameron’s dad was a cop who died when he was like 6. Long enough ago that Cameron can’t remember his dad’s voice kind of stuff. Dad’s death was written as a “heart attack” and his body got cremated (so no evidence), although again, I’m flexible and we can change that to “injured in the line of duty” or something like that to make it fit a nice plot. Point being, his dad’s death was likely foul play and I’m willing to use that for a good connection if your supernatural muse was around Queen’s Lace roughly 17-18 years ago. Mom suffers from COPD, and I’m pretty firm on that diagnosis (but always shoot your shot if you wanna do something with long-term compulsion triggering seizures or something instead). I think it’s just a result of smoking, but like, could it be that a supernatural somehow caused it? Or something that she saw drove her to start smoking which eventually caused it? This one is a little harder to connect to than Dad, but the option is out there.

#about cameron #unsacred.intro

3 notes · View notes

lolitadollanganger · 2 years

Text

Trying to enjoy one of my favorite park in my area without fixating on the time my ex-boyfriend took me here before I raped me. I remember I was so sad that day and he "wanted to cheer me up" and we "didn't have to do anything sexual". Which already is so fucked up because why did I need his permission to decline sex. But anyway he forced me to wear an uncomfortable outfit he found attractive, the kept trying to touch me sexually in the car on the way there, and got angry and refused to speak to me when I protested, then denied he ever said we didn't have to have sex. Then when we got to the park he complained the whole time, made me leave earlier than I wanted, then raped me outside my house after we drove back.

But this is also the park I came to with my best friends in the world when I was a kid and we slid down the hills, chased the geese, got ice cream and fish and chips, played on the playground and looked at the water. Its the same park my late dog Hero loved to come to with my family. Where he'd get doggy ice cream and some fries when we all had picnics here. And he's stand on his hind paws to look over the rails by the lake and see tge jellyfish. The same park where I went boating and watched live singers and proformers.

So I'll work in loving this park despite that bad man and that bad thing he did. I want it to still belong to me.

#🌙#dont rb 8474848 #rape tw

4 notes · View notes

hanafubukki · 2 years

Note

Convert Anon💜 here!!

So i’m still sick with the cold and i’m feeling so so(fam brought back dinner which was very funny of some fried chicken and mashed potatoes) and i’ve been trying to sleep it away(and yes I would share the chicken with Azul bb💜💜💜)

Aquarium date and learning more about the fish is *chefs kiss from a distance to not get ye sick* and having to stop Floyd from swimming with the fishes is hilarious and stressful

And them talking to the fish is great and i will pay them in kisses for their time(once not sick)

And having to keep Silver awake but tbh falling asleep in an aquarium feels like a mood and gosh do i wish to be Silver in that instance

And the hats💜💜💜yes

I name my hat Azul Jr and make sure Azul(sr(hehe)) gets just as much love as Azul Jr

And I love his Jellyfish hat and the tweels probably get plushes of eels and I love them for it

And Malleus with a dolphin plush is so cute!!💜💜💜 and Lilia would get a fish pun shirt I feel or a shark plush

And home dates are so nice!! Like if you want some quiet time alone you can go to a comfy spot and no one feels bad and it’s safe to take naps in(I have a love of naps lol sorry) and cuddles and watch what you love and is nice and cozy and maybe trying to make a pie together(I have a good apple pie recipe from an older cookbook my mom owns) or make some nice tea and enjoy rhe sounds of nature with the windows open and reading some books

Very nice very nice

Convert Anon 💜 I hope you feel better soon 🥺🥺, sleep a lot and drink lots of water and make sure to eat 💕💕😘😘🤗

They hear even a sniffle from you, they will tease you and then wrap you up in all the blankets. No, Floyd, you are not a blanket and no you can squeeze them the whole time. Convert Anon needs to breathe

Omg yes! Lilia would definitely get a fish pun shirt 🙌🙌 great idea Anonie, I could hug you and kiss you 😘 it’s okay, I won’t catch a cold 🙌🙌

I had to look some up lmfaoo:

Seems a bit fishy to me.

Dear Cod, I laughed so hard!

He really schooled you then.

I’d make him walk the plankton for that.

Not bad, cod do better…

We should dolphinitely scale back on the fish puns.

Any fin is possible, just don’t trout yourself!

Ahh guys, you’re krilling me now!

———-

Lolol I hope that cheered you up some

No! I agree! Naps are the best! Especially when you can cuddle 💜💜💕💕

Yum! Apple pie with some ice cream 🤤🤤

Yes yes yes nature and maybe some slight rain and cold while reading a book is heavenly 💗💗💗

#answered #anonie ask #💜convert anon

2 notes · View notes

myrandomautistichouse · 8 hours

Note

•I always get the exact same foods from restaurants that I go to frequently. If they don't have what I usually get, I most likely won't eat anything at all.

•People always tell me to speak up because I 'mumble', even though I think I'm talking at an acceptable level.

•The last time I got told suddenly I was going to have to go on a trip, I cried so hard that they just cancelled it lmao

•I ramble. A lot. (Sorry 😭👍)

First thank you for the ask.

So when I read your list, I see that you can be autistic. I don't like certain fabrics. I can also be quickly irritated by people.

There are some that can be both for autisic people and ADHD.

When it comes to words. When I have a hard time speaking, I'm either tired. Or I'm having an emotional start of a bad day

When I read the list. I think you are autisic. If you want a diagnosis, find one who listens to you. Getting one is hard. I was lucky with my parents and a good doctor

Also, I don't mind the long text. You can always ask me stuff .

#myrandomautistichouse #ask annon #thanks for the ask

0 notes

spiritplumber · 5 months

Text

4am untitled story

A pair of door-to-door missionaries knock at the home of an old man. He says that he practices sacred hospitality, and not only welcomes them in but also offers them a meal, penne with delicious homemade pesto with basil from his own garden.

They ask him if he has considered welcoming Jesus. The old man tells them about a day like this, twenty years before, when a homeless Semitic guy with long matted hair, wrapped in a blanket and wearing mismatched beach sandals, came into his home. So, he offered him a meal, but also a shower and a spare pair of pants and overalls and socks. The man washed himself, put the clothes on, ate voraciously, thanked the man, and left. "Have I not already welcomed your Jesus?"

The missionaries answer that this man may have looked like Jesus, and praise the man's generosity, but then point out that all our good deeds are filthy rags before the Lord and welcoming Jesus means making Him the lord of our life. Christ is King.

The man shows the missionaries a framed naturalization certificate. He says that he came from an Eastern European dictatorship to the United States, applied for a professional visa, was granted it, and eventually became a citizen. "I came here to be a free citizen of a free republic. No kings, no generalissimos, no supreme leaders."

The missionaries compliment the old man on his English, finish the meal, and politely refuse a small glass of red wine. One of them asks the old man, what will you tell God at the Judgment? The man thinks about it. "Not much, being as I'll be dead. The dead don't have much to say. I'll probably listen."

The missionaries are getting ready to leave. They thank the old man for the meal. "We'll pray for you", the other missionary says to the man. The man smiles. "I appreciate that."

The missionaries return to their church. It's one of those very dodgy megachurches; an assistant pastor listens to their story about the nice old guy, and gets angry at them for not selling the religion hard enough. Niceness doesn't get butts in pews or bills in the collection plate.

A month or so later, the missionaries return to the old man's house. He's feeding homemade fries to a small murder of crows in his garden. He invites them in, and apologizes for not having food ready, unless they count the fries, and he personally just makes those for the birds.

Heeding the warning of their church superior, the missionaries try the hard sell. Surely the old man is old; surely he's worried about death; surely he doesn't want to go to Hell. The old man listens. He knows he's old; he's as worried about death as anyone else his age and general health; he's seen people who had been in Hell before, by which he means people in a political prison in his country of origin. He tells the missionaries of people in conditions almost as bad as rescued Auschwiz prisoners. "My mother took two of them in, instantly raising the suspicion of the secret police upon our family."

The old man raises his voice only when the missionaries insist that Hell is worse and that the old man is bound there if he doesn't convert. "You tell me that you come here to give me the good news of your God, and then you turn around and accuse Him of mass torture?"

A little taken aback by the sudden shift in tone, the crows stop eating. Rather than staring at the old man, they stare at the missionaries.

The missionaries are volunteer; they aren't really prepared for a philosophical discussion about theodicy. Instead, they pivot to the subject of heaven. The old man says that he is a free man in a free country, his sons are grown and happy, and he has earned enough for a house and a garden. A few times a year, he's still fit to go fishing or hunting. What does Heaven have to give him that he doesn't already have?

The missionaries reply that he could have a mansion, like their pastor does; a whole estate, like their pastor does; the warm comfort of being right with God, which both their pastor and they do. The old man asks about the pastor; like most megachurch pastors he's extremely rich, has written a number of books, runs a TV programme, and so on. The old man thinks for a moment. "I should like to listen to this pastor of yours." They tell him when the TV program is on. "No, no, in person. When is his next sermon?" They tell him, in two weeks; next week he is at a spiritual retreat. He asks if they would accept a gift for the pastor. It's worth about a thousand dollars. "Uh, sure" one of the missionaries says. The old man looks down, and carefully takes out his glass eye. "A gift from the secret police, before I crossed the ocean. And now a gift from me to him."

Confused by the gesture, but figuring that it has significance, the missionaries take the prosthesis. The old man doesn't hurry them out of the door, but doesn't seem to have much else to tell them. They watch him start peeling potatoes to make another batch of fries, make small talk, and even end up spending a few minutes helping him with the peeling as he hands them two knives.

When the missionaries report back, the glass eye is thoroughly washed and put in an envelope, just in case. The assistant pastor compliments them for having made an impression, briefly muses about whether the prosthetic contains a microphone or a camera -- it doesn't, it's simply a well-made piece of jewelry in a rubber casing -- and more or less forgets about the incident. If the church has made one more convert, excellent; people like the old man who mostly live frugally but afford themselves the occasional luxury tend to have very full bank accounts and, eventually, be very open to making donations.

Services at this megachurch are an elaborate affair, with music, singing, a homily delivered through a projector featuring videos and sometimes a powerpoint presentation. The head pastor is good looking in an impeccable custom-tailored suit. The two missionaries, sitting in a back pew, are a little sad that the old man didn't show up after all. One of them wonders to the other if they should give him a call, see if he's ill or indisposed, but the other notices that they never got any contact info out of him. They decide to go check on him at his home after the service.

The sky outside is grey, and it's drizzling. The church's speakers sometimes pick up a little bit of static when a lightning bolt comes down a few miles away. The pastor's homily is going well; he is energized and quickly establishes a rapport with his congregation. The sermon covered one of Paul's epistles; he's given it a couple times in the other two churches that he runs, and wont' reuse it. His tone is confident and his words well-rehearsed. At this point, assistants will begin passing out the collection plates; compared to donations in the form of checks and direct deposits it's nothing, but it's important for the look of the thing. Even when the power goes out, it's only for a half second -- the building has a backup diesel generator, so all anyone sees are the lights dimming for a moment and a momentary glitch on the projector screen.

A bolt of lightning comes down close enough to the church building that the thunderclap drowns the speakers for a moment. The front door of the church cracks open; it's the old man. His beard and long hair is unkempt from two weeks of not being washed. He smells of alcohol and fry oil and ozone. He's wearing traditional hunting garb, leather boots, and a worn brown blanket.

"The storm is upon us, and I can't make it home. I seek refuge." he says. His accent is much more noticeable than it was before.

The ushers quickly intercept him, assuming he's a homeless person, and curtly tell him to wait in the atrium. The two missionaries are relieved to see that the old man is well, but what's happened to him? Was he evicted?

The head pastor doesn't quite react to this; he's well into his script, it's the third and last time he has to give this sermon, and when he was told about the unusual gift from a prospective parishioner he mentally filed it under "weird guy, I'll talk to him when I have time." So, he continues his exhortation, maybe a little louder to avoid losing his audience. The ushers begin pushing the old man out. One of the missionaries stands up, to tell them that this man was expected, but the ushers have their own standing orders, and don't listen.

The ushers grab the old man. He pushes them off, revealing an outdoorsman's strength despite his age. They grab him again. Two stun guns crackle in the old man's hands, and he uses them on the ushers' shoulders, throwing them back. The old man strides forward and lets his cloak drop; he looks at the head pastor. A bright purple LED, stuck behind the old man's glasses on the missing-eye side, lights up and hits the head pastor right in the face, temporarily blinding him; the sermon stops, with the congregation staring in bewilderment. The old man throws a few fries on the ground, and with that, dozens, maybe a hundred of crows fly in from the open church door and flood the chamber. The old man says something in a Nordic language.

The head pastor is still disoriented by the laser light, but recovers his footing. "This is the house of the Lord! We're calling the police! Get out of here!"

The crows are pecking at anything edible or shiny in the room. Thunderclaps ominously come close to the building, and the open door makes them even more audible.

The old man points at the pastor. "Be not inhospitable to strangers, lest they be gods in disguise."

He then turns and leaves. Another usher tries to grab him, but is repelled with a stun gun zap. Even as the old man leaves, the crows continue their rampage. Two of the ushers have the presence of spirit to open the emergency exit, and people begin evacuating. The first ones out see the old man leave atop an ancient motorcycle.

The only serious injury from this strange display is to the head pastor himself -- one of the crows pecked his eye out.

When the police finally arrive to take a statement, they're skeptical. From the parishioners' accounts, it sounds like Odin himself dropped the spear on this particular church. The congregants speak of a demon, a terrorist, a Russian spy, all sort of confused accounts. The surveillance cameras show little more than a flash of purple light and a flurry of crow feathers.

The only two people with half an idea of what happened are the two missionaries; as soon as they are able, they get to the old man's house. Two crows are picking at hash browns in his little garden. He's wearing overalls, a little sweaty from a bit of gardening he was doing, but clean. He welcomes them in.

They ask him if it was him at the church. Instead of answering, he shows them something that he claims one of his nephews made for him -- a little LED light for his spare glass eye. Rather than purple and piercing, it's red and barely lights up, something that a clever kid with an electronics kit might have built. "It itches a little, but I'll wear it until I get a proper replacement made. Or at least until we can take a picture together."

The old man asks the missionaries what got them in such an agitation, and listens intently to their narration. He then tries to calm them down, and even offers to go to the police, if it'll help them not panic -- he went hunting with family, and only made it back earlier in the day, hence why his little garden needed extra tending. Of course he has some of the receipts from the trip; he's old-fashioned, prefers to not use cards, and wouldn't know where to start balancing his checkbook online.

"So, your pastor got his eye pecked out, eh? Given the circumstances, he may keep my prosthesis, then. Seems to me he needs it more than I. But I won't come calling at your church -- no offense, but a man who doesn't get along with animals is not a man I care to meet."

A day or so later, in a hospital bed in the best clinic money can buy, the megachurch pastor is staring out of his remaining eye. He drops the old man's glass eye in an empty glass. He has done this many times now. The glass eye falls into the glass, moves around a little, and then stops.

The sapphire pupil always stares at him.

0 notes

fizzingwizard · 5 months

Text

food and diet talk

not that I'm dieting lol.

It has been really, really frustrating trying to make even the small changes that I wanted. The minute I find a healthy recipe I like, I'll discover it's only healthy in some ways, but unhealthy in others. Even if I ate nothing but bowls and bowls of kale without any seasoning, I might get lower cholesterol but I'd be lacking a whole lot of vitamins and just energy in general.

One source says eggs are a yes! They have cholesterol but they're so good for you that you should still eat them (obviously not every single meal or every day but they're healthy enough not to be cut out).

Another source says: eggs are a big no! You can have them if you really, really must... but only now and then... and only the whites... and we don't recommend it tbh.

If I eat "healthy," I'm eating food I don't like, that tastes bad because it has no seasoning, and the only benefit is the idea that I'm going to be overall healthier myself (which for me rn is pretty much about cholesterol and that's it). But my genetics mean it could have no effect - and even without the genetic component, it could still be no good, because I'd fuck up my health other ways by eating "healthy" but not "balanced."

Moderation is supposed to be the key. Eat almost everything as long as it's a balanced diet. But what even is moderation. I went to a restaurant the other day that bills itself as a healthy restaurant. It has the nutritional facts listed right there on the menu, tells you the pros and cons of each dish, etc. But they have a fish deal with 10 grams of salt. That's like double the amount of salt you're supposed to eat in a day?? And my meal was a chicken salad. The chicken had the skin on, which, fine, it's a restaurant (but it actually didn't need it, the meat was very tender and well-seasoned without the skin). It came with multi-grain rice with hjiki and miso soup. Those were fine I think. The real insult was the chicken salad itself. It was supposed to be loaded with vegetables: it had three thin strips of bell pepper, one wedge of tomato, two pieces of broccoli, and two thin, tiny AF slices of squash. The rest was literally just lettuce and cabbage. Not what I was expecting at all. A while ago I went to an Italian restaurant and got their salad, which was just as big even though I got a half portion, and had more vegetables. It was, however, absolutely doused in oily dressing. I hate restaurants that put the dressing on for you (the nice thing about the "healthy" place was at least they put all the sauces on the side so I just didn't use them). It was actually too much too: tasted nice for a few bites, but soon was just super overpowering. It was also the same dressing they put on the bruschetta so if I ever go back I definitely won't order both lol.

Anyway, well, I was prepared for a "healthy" restaurant to not really be that healthy - I'm sure it's going more for "healthy compared to other restaurants," not as healthy as home cooking. But still... I can't get over that meager amount of vegetables in a salad. And I never wanted to be That Girl who orders a salad as an entree. I'm not trying to lose weight, I don't care how big or small people are, I'm just trying to lower my cholesterol numbers by avoiding meat, especially red meat, avoiding sugary and fried food, and trying to eat healthier carbs. I've probably had the most success limiting fried food, or at least more success than I expected. Still not as much as I should be but it's a start. Sugar is harder especially now that it's cold and I want hot cocoa... But I have made some progress there. It's nothing big, but at least I've tried to only eat chocolate-covered almonds instead of just chocolate when I get a craving, and I've been going for sweet potato or fruit sweets whenever I can persuade myself away from chocolate cravings.

I usually eat two meals a day, a brunch sort of and dinner. The first is a light meal and it's usually oatmeal and fruit, or rice with beans. I struggle to get in more veggies or really anything more for that meal because I eat with my students (it's their lunch time) and they need so much help eating their meals that it's hard for us teachers to eat our own. My coworkers can mostly do it, though. But unfortunately, I've always been a slow eater, and as much as I love toddlers, helping them spit out food they refuse to swallow into a napkin and then turning back to my own lunch really grosses me out and always has. So I try to only eat quick, light things. The problem with waiting for my break to eat lunch is 1) it's often not till 3 pm, and 2) if I use my break to eat then I lose prep time. Because even though I'm not paid for one hour a day... I sometimes only get 15 paid time away from the kids. And the max I'm supposed to get... is 30 min x'D which is nowhere near enough. So if I don't use my break nothing happens. And this is true for everyone - people do take actual breaks, but only when they don't have anything else that needs doing, and even then I almost always discover something I forgot and have to rush to deal with (yesterday it was sending the kids' outside play hats home for the weekend to be washed. Usually a c-oteacher does that, but both my co-teachers were out on Friday so I was the only one there to do classroom upkeep.)

So I try to eat good meals for dinner. And then I just get stuck. Because I make something, it tastes good, it has protein and fiber and vitamins, but it's also got a salty dressing, or involves frying, or tastes like ass unless it's well seasoned... And I just don't KNOW how to make food without ANY carbs. You're supposed to get some, but I tend to assume I got enough at lunch. I don't want zucchini noodles or cauliflower rice but. Also it's so much more work.

I just feel frustrated (in a way I've heard lots of people frustrated in the past) that every change I make backfires in a different way. It's just such a bummer to find something I like and then realize it's not as good for me as I thought. Idk what to do. Although, for the first step, I think I've got to lose this job and go somewhere I can have a proper lunch. (But even that comes with a loss because this job DOES give me tons of chances for walking and squatting and exercise - not enough to count as "intense" but it's certainly much better than being sedentary.) And then I guess I should talk to a nutritionist since I don't understand all the nutritional trade-offs well enough myself.

Lol, when I first started this not-diet, my coworker said, "Isn't your background Italian? The Mediterranean diet is so healthy!" Well, Idk it might be, but my 100% Italian grandpa still died of heart disease. And my mom, who is his daughter, and whose eating habits are 100x better than my dad's, still has very high cholesterol and docs want to put her on statins, even though she's been specifically dieting for decades to not have that happen.

#fizz's life #food

1 note · View note