#but i definitely have this anxiety about gaining weight and putting on clothes just to find that they don't fit anymore

[izzuku]

Redacted Headcanons 2

(here they come) fluff + suggestive + sad

Don't take them too seriously if you don't like them please.

- Lasko has stretch marks, specially over his stomach and thighs because of anxiety (he gains and loses weight really fast and constantly)

- Gavin has top scars: he could get rid of them but he likes them because it reminds him of who he wants to be.

- David lost once in a game and was dared to put on a maid dress. He never did it again (much to Angel's dismay)

- Gavin will always leave some kind of mark on Freelancer, specially hickeys. At least one and always visible.

- When Tank has a nightmare, they usually mutter things and almost instantly wrap around Sam's arm for comfort.

- Damien and Huxley have a lot of matching things, from necklaces to rings, clothes, hats. They even have matching colored nails.

- Caelum likes to teach Gavin how to play Minecraft and even have a cooperative world with different rooms for the three of them fully decorated.

- Lasko, Guy and Asher secretly love when you push them against a wall to shut them up with a kiss. Doesn't matter your height, if you put enough force to make them stumble back, they're yours fr.

- The morning after, Sam has woken up to several bite marks and scratches from Darlin' all over his body and has he tried to cover them up. It didn't work.

- Aaron had to learn a variety of languages because of work and one of them is Korean, the thing is Smartass doesn't know why it turns them on hearing him.

- If any of the D.A.M.N crew had tattoos, Caelum would definitely use markers to paint on the designs.

- Gavin and Freelancer have had matching hair color at least once.

- Whenever Sweetheart has an anxiety attack/panic attack they unconsciously cloak so they have enough room for their emotions.

- If Cutie feels like they've stepped over boundaries with their partner, Geordie will always find them on the same bench of a park nearby, just looking around trying to make a good apology.

- Elliot likes to take pictures of Sunshine at the 'golden hour' because he says it matches their nickname.

- Avior and Starlight deal with the whole 'Hell' situation by taking care of lots of plants. They sit with a cup of coffee and talk with some soft music in the background, it gives them the sense of normalcy they craved back then.

- Sam has a special plaid shirt that he always gives Darlin' when they need comfort. Then he sees a sleepy wolf hanging around the house with just that shirt and underwear on.

- David, Darlin', Milo and Asher have definitely slept shifted like a pile of wolfs and it was surprisingly comfortable.

- Damien has dreamed several times about getting married.

- Sam and Angel have lots of secretly taken photos of David and Darlin' being cute in their wolf forms that only they can see.

- Guy has definitely tried playing Twister while drunk but constantly fell over Honey who was just trying to pass through the living room.

- Before Lasko having a listener, Freelancer and Gavin would always leave clean clothes for him the next morning, a cup of coffee and a goodbye kiss for the day.

- Deviant is always being showered in praise of their body. Gavin can always tell when they're not feeling themselves and is quick to barge in with the sweetest and most genuine comments.

- Vincent was that one loud ass kid that would always cry if another kid took away the toy he was playing with.

- Babe is always accompanied by Asher whenever they have to use an elevator. Since the first time it eases them to know they're together just like when they first met.

I think that's it for today hope you enjoyed babes

[peachel-ayam]

my first post on this personal blog

on being ridiculously skinny — I’m not proud of it

All I want to do is gain weight

Disclaimer: This post was initially published on my Medium account under the "Bitchy" publication, and received hundred readers per week. Given that this is my personal journaling blog, I wanted to share it here as well. You can find the original post here.

(image by me)

Toxic body positivity doesn’t only apply to those who are overweight; I’ve experienced it too — an underweight individual.

People would tell me, “You should be grateful for God’s gift,” or “Being thin is a favor,” or even claim, “All women want a body like yours.”

But at the same time, I also received tons of, “Whoa, you look like you haven’t eaten in months,” or “You are thinner than paper,” or the worst of all, “If there’s a windstorm, it can be strong enough to push and float you.”

These words echoed through my mind, causing me to question my self-worth and validity.

“You MUST accept your body or you will never be happy”

I don’t want to invalidate all the words they say because I do feel concerned about my weight. I’ve noticed that I’m significantly underweight compared to others around me.

My clothes seem to hang loosely on my frame, and I feel self-conscious about my appearance. While some people may think being thin is a blessing, I can’t help but worry about my health and well-being.

I’m not proud of it. There, I said it. The truth can be hard to face, but I can’t keep denying it any longer.

Yes, I may have a naturally slender figure, but that doesn’t mean I don’t struggle with body image issues. The pressure to fit into society’s narrow definition of beauty is relentless, and it affects all body types, including mine.

My self-esteem plummeted, leading me to avoid social interactions and feeling too insecure to wear certain clothes that I feared wouldn’t flatter my thin frame, making me look like a walking pencil in strange costumes.

I’ve been doing some research about being underweight, and it appears that there could be various factors contributing to my situation.

Stress and anxiety could be affecting my appetite, and I may not be consuming enough calories to maintain a healthy weight. Moreover, my busy lifestyle has led to irregular eating habits, often skipping meals or opting for quick, unhealthy snacks.

I realize that I need to make some changes to my daily routine. Eating a balanced diet and incorporating more nutritious meals will be essential in healthily gaining weight.

I was once confused about whether to see a therapist — for a possibility of anxiety — or go straight to a doctor for my weight problem. In my confusion, I turned to the internet for answers and unfortunately fell for weight-gain ads instead, purchasing a high-priced honey-like product that had no effect.

I also tried making smoothies from various online recipes, but they yielded the same disappointing results. It was a valuable lesson not to trust random ads or articles on the internet.

Then, I decided to talk to a nutritionist who suggested meal plans and specific foods to increase my caloric intake healthily. I started a little food journal on my phone to keep track of my eating habits.

This will help me identify any patterns or deficiencies in my diet. I'm not going to lie, it was challenging to break old habits and adopt a new diet, but I’m determined to give it my best effort.

Weeks and months have passed, and I’m starting to see some positive changes in my weight since I’ve been following the meal plan prescribed by the nutritionist. However, I won’t lie; it’s still a struggle.

Some days, I feel bloated and uncomfortable after eating more than I’m used to. My self-esteem is also taking a hit when I think about how much effort — and money — I have to put in to reach a healthy weight.

I remind myself that this journey is about my health and not just my physical appearance. It’s essential to stay focused on the bigger picture and continue working towards a better, healthier version of myself.

A year later, I got sick. Stomach problem. My busy schedule in the new office has interfered with my good and healthy eating habits. Forgetting to take lunch and eating unhealthy foods late in the evening became a common occurrence.

The long commute to work with an empty stomach and sleepy eyes only worsened the situation. Months of unhealthy behavior led to my hospitalization, resulting in further weight loss.

I was devastated, knowing that I had to start my healthy behavior from the beginning and endure all the struggles again. However, I realized it was necessary for the sake of my health.

As a first step, I made the difficult decision to resign from that office, prioritizing my well-being.

I started keeping a food journal again and attempted some exercises to gain weight — though I must admit, due to my 9–5 daily schedule, finding time to exercise is hard, resulting in rare opportunities to do it. To compensate, I maximize my efforts by consuming more weight-gaining foods.

I understand that this is a slow and gradual process, but I’m determined to continue. My new eating habits are becoming more natural, and I don’t feel as overwhelmed by the calorie intake as I did initially.

It’s essential to clarify that my decision to focus on gaining weight is not influenced by others’ judgments of my appearance, but rather driven by my genuine concern for my body’s health.

People often assume that because I’m thin, I must have it all — that my life is perfect and carefree.

But they don’t see the battles I fight with myself or the times I avoid social situations because I fear judgment based on my appearance.

Back to the first topic: toxic body positivity doesn’t discriminate. It affects us all, regardless of our size or shape. Society’s obsession with body ideals has created an environment where any deviation from the norm is met with criticism and scrutiny.

I want to embrace body positivity just as much as anyone else, but it’s hard when the world constantly sends mixed messages. On the one hand, I’m told to love my body and be confident, but on the other hand, I’m bombarded with comments that make me feel inadequate and ashamed.

“You have to be thin, but not too thin. And you can never say you want to be thin, you have to say you want to be healthy. But also, you have to be thin — — It’s too hard, it’s too contradictory, and nobody gives you a medal or says thank you!”

The monologue lasts longer than that and serves as a reminder of the importance of embracing authenticity and acknowledging the complexities of our emotions and experiences.

Body positivity should be about celebrating all bodies, not just those that fit a specific mold. It’s about recognizing that every person is unique and deserving of love and respect, regardless of their appearance.

To anyone who has experienced similar comments or struggles with body image, know that you are not alone. We must challenge society’s unrealistic beauty standards and foster an environment of acceptance and understanding.

Despite still being underweight and facing the challenge of regaining it, I refuse to give up on loving my body and striving to be the best version of myself, as evidenced by finding and wearing more suitable clothes for my current weight and not shying away from social interactions, as embracing self-love means giving my body and appearance the best care.

My worth is not determined by my size, and I refuse to let toxic body positivity bring me down. I will continue to work on loving myself for who I am, and I hope others will do the same.

Let’s strive for a world where body positivity is truly inclusive and where everyone can feel valued and appreciated, regardless of how they look. It’s time to break free from the shackles of judgment.

I am more than just my body, and so are you. People who say otherwise can f themselves.

[nudne]

nothing like shopping at a high street fashion store to make you feel like shit 😌

[ur-riddikulus]

Fear and Cuddles (Thor Odinson)

Pairing: Thor x Y/N.

Summary: You are afraid of storms and go into Thor’s room one night because he calms you down. Then he figures out and forces you to admit this to him.

Warnings: Just pure fluff and the obviousness of them loving each other and needing to get together. This may suck but honestly it’s just meant to be a short cute story.

As another roll of thunder shook the compound, you buried yourself under more covers. You were shaking in fear, the lightning flashing across the sky. 

It was probably around 2 or 3 am, but honestly you didn’t know. Fear was weird, making the hours start to blend together at this point. But it could have also just been exhaustion. You hadn’t been able to sleep all night, too afraid to from the raging storm outside.

Screw this, I’m an Avenger for God’s sake, I can deal with one storm. You thought to yourself, but that confidence immediately left when moments later, another round of lightning streaked across the sky.

Everyone was probably calmly asleep, with not a care in the world. You have never been more envious of your team mates. You were so, so tired and had a long day tomorrow, but sleep wasn’t even an option with your anxiety through the roof all night.

Your heart was beating so fast you thought you were having a stroke. Maybe I’m dying? You thought. At least it would take you out of your misery. After all, you can’t be scared when you’re dead. But even you were not that lucky, you supposed.

You had been battling yourself since the storm had started. Should you go to Thor’s room or not? You haven’t because it was so embarrassing, what adult was terrified of storms? But you had been friends for years, and he was just across the halls. He helped you through everything and you were too scared to be alone right now.

“No, I am not a child. I’ll be fine right here.” You promised yourself for the umpteenth time. You were resolved, you weren’t going to run into his room and bother him with something as dumb as your ridiculous fear of storms.

But when you heard wind rattling the trees in the night and huge bolts lightning light up the night sky, you were a goner. So, being the coward you were, you finally had enough. You ran out of the room, your shaking legs taking you quickly across the hall and outside the door of Thor’s room. You knocked, just to be polite, but when you heard nothing you just assumed he was sleeping. So you just quietly opened the door, tiptoed over to his bed, and crawled into it beside him.

He was snoring, loudly and deeply. If you weren’t terrified of waking him up and of course, the raging storm outside, you probably would have laughed.

You were crawling into bed very slowly, pausing whenever he would shift or a break would come in his snoring. When you were finally tucked into his bed, beside him, you were enveloped in his smell. Pine tree, the smell of rain, and a scent that was just...Thor. You breathed it in deep, the mix of it all making you feel safe and protected from the violent storm outside.

Your fear soon started washing washing away and you could feel your eyes suddenly start to droop when he moved, turning in your direction. You immediately held still, careful to not move in order to not possibly wake up the god. 

He snuggled into you, holding you close and putting an arm around you. Then, his deep snores started once more. As awkward as this position was, it relaxed you even more. Thor was simply your best friend, nothing more. But you couldn’t help but be secretly glad that he was in this close, intimate position with you. 

You ignored the fluttering of your heart, guessing that it was just all the anxiety you had been through that night. You leaned in and cuddled with him as well. Moments later, thunder shook the compound the loudest it had all night, but you didn’t care. You were finally calm and sleeping, a faint smile on your face as you were tucked in next to the Avenger.

You heard noises before you opened your eyes the next morning. It sounded like a shower was being turned on. You ignored it and decided to go back to bed, snuggling back into the comfy covers. Then, before you drifted back to sleep, you noticed it. Thor’s scent was all over these covers. It made no sense, none at all. That was, until you remembered last nights events. The big storm, your fear, you sneaking in and cuddling with Thor.

You shot up, cheeks blazing from embarrassment. How were you going to explain this to him? The bed was empty beside you, so you knew he was in the shower. He had to see you this morning, you were hugging him like a giant teddy bear for God’s sake. 

You didn’t want anyone to know of your fear. Why would you? The rest of the Avengers went through hell and back and lived to tell the tale. They feared nothing. While you turned into a statue if you heard one roll of thunder. There was no way to get out of this. And you definitely couldn’t face him, what were you going to say? “Sorry, I am a huge baby and crawled into your bed last night because of a storm, then you cuddled me and I loved it and haven’t slept that good in years?” No, absolutely no way. You didn’t need to add even more embarrassment onto this already huge list of things to be embarrassed about. 

You looked at the door, wishing you could somehow magically teleport back into your room, where you were supposed to be. Maybe your friendship could survive this, of course considering that he even wanted to be friends with you after this, the girl who crawled into bed with him at 2 am without his consent. You could just ignore it, never talk about it, and with time, maybe it will be back to normal.

You were about to run to the door when you heard the shower stop running and Thor get out of it. The bathroom door was open, and soon you saw him saunter out of it with a towel wrapped about his waist, water droplets still streaming down his chest and v-line. 

Your eyes immediately opened wide at that sight. No wonder he’s a god. He was the hottest, most attractive man you’ve ever seen. Of course, as close friends you saw him shirtless sometimes, and you always thought he was attractive (I mean, you would have to be blind to not see it) but it never made you feel this...starstruck before. He was turned around, going through his dresser for clothes. So, you did the only thing you could think of it that moment.

You leaned back down and faked being asleep.

Sure, it was a coward’s move. But your pride was long gone. You already knew you were a coward last night when you crawled into bed with him. 

He finished going through his clothes, picking them out and you could hear the fabric rustling so you assumed he was getting dressed. Once the sound stopped, you felt his gaze harden on you. You had to fight the urge to not move while feigning sleep, but knowing that he was staring at you was making it pretty hard.

You felt the bed dip down under his weight as he got on it beside you and snuggled right back into you like the way you were together last night.

He moved your hair behind your ear and put his lips right next to your ear. You had to fight yourself to not give him more access to your neck, which was ridiculous. Why were you being so weird around Thor lately?

You felt him breath on your ear. “I know you're awake, Y/N.” Thor said in a singsongy voice.

Your heart dropped. How were you going to explain this? In your head, you knew that Thor was a kind and understanding person, but that didn’t mean you wanted to admit that you, someone whose literally job it is to face villains, couldn’t face a storm. You just didn’t want to get laughed at.

You sighed and opened your eyes. “Surprise?” You said. Maybe you could joke your way out of this mess. He loved jokes, and you knew that his big heart would trust that you weren’t lying to him.

He smiled his trademark dazzling smile and you automatically felt more comfortable, as you always felt when you were around him. You weren’t thinking about the situation you just got yourself into, all you could think of was, “Why wasn’t Thor the god of beauty? He certainly fits the job description.”

“Uh...thank you?” He said with a little laugh and a confused look on his face.

“Oh shit...did I just say that out loud?” You’re cheeks grew red and you started to hate yourself so much for how embarrassing you are

“Maybe, but I find it very endearing.” Thor replied, still smiling.

You had to clear your head, but whenever you were around him recently, you couldn’t. You shook your head quickly to try to gain any brain cells you had left. When you looked back up you saw Thor looking at you thoughtfully.

“So, not that I didn’t love sharing a bed with you, Y/n, but why were you in my bed last night? I wasn’t aware we had scheduled what you mortals call a ‘sleep over’.”

You swallowed thickly, quickly going in between answers to this question in your head. Should you say that you were possessed and woke up here? That you were just wanting to snuggle with your best friend for the night? You audibly sigh, you never were a good liar.

“Are you okay,Y/N?” You looked up at him and his worried expression. Thor was the kindest person you had ever met, and he never failed to make your day better. He didn’t deserve to be told a lie from his best friend. Especially when you know how much he hates lies, understandably because he was told them all the time from Loki, his mischievous younger brother. 

This was it. Were you going to lie and keep your fear to yourself? Or tell the truth and possibly bear the humiliation?

“Thor, I came into your room last night because I was scared. I’m afraid of storms and you always calm me down so I went in here to feel better. I’m so, so, so sorry. Really, it was-”

He cut you off by putting a finger up and saying, “Wait...you came into my room because you were scared?

“Uh...yeah?” “I calm you down and make you feel better, really?

Okay, not the way you thought this conversation was going to go at all, but at least he wasn’t focusing on your embarrassing fear.

“Yeah, of course you do. Are you not mad or something?” You asked. Why was he caring about that?

After saying that, then he looked at you like you were an idiot. “Why would I be mad? That’s the kindest thing anyone’s ever said to me. And many people have something to be afraid of, me included.”

You smile at Thor, just relieved that he was such a kind person. You had nothing to be nervous about, he would always be there for you. You were curious about him mentioning that he has a fear but then just decided that was a conversation for another time. 

“Thor, you are the sweetest person alive, I hope you know that.”

You both smiled and enjoyed each other’s presence. You were so grateful for such a great person in your life. 

Thor yawned before saying, “You know, I was going to work out but seeing you so comfy in bed makes me want to go back to bed. Want to sleep in?”

You give Thor a look. “Only if you make me waffles when we wake up.”

He rolled his eyes. “You humans and your weird breakfasts.”

You laughed and scooted over on the bed to make room for Thor. He got more comfortable and you moved back to cuddle with him almost immediately without even having to think about it, it was just instinct for you now.

You soon went to bed but before you fell back into deep sleep, you barely heard the comforting voice of Thor say, “I love you, Y/N.” before finally dozing off. Loud thunder could be heard once more in the room but you didn't care. You were finally cozy and cuddling with your favorite Avenger, his presence keeping the fear at bay. 

[zevlors-tail]

A/N: This was an emergency request from forever ago, and I’m SO SORRY it took so long to finish! Tumblr also deleted the original ask, so I don’t have it anymore, but it was for a poly tododeku x chubby reader who gained weight during quarantine. I hope this was what you wanted, and again, I’m so sorry it took so long! I also don’t have a title for this RIP.

Pairing: Poly TodoDeku x Chubby Reader

Words: 4k

Warnings: Insecurities about weight gain, weight gain, cursing, reader weighing themselves with a scale if that’s a trigger for you.

You yawned as you stretched, your eyelids still heavy with sleep. It was currently nine in the morning and both of your partners had already snuck out of bed to go to work for the day. You envied them a little, seeing as they got to leave the house often while you were cooped up inside all of the time no thanks to quarantine. Of course, you still worried for their health- although most hero agencies were taking preventative measures during the ongoing pandemic, there was still the chance that one (or god forbid, both) of them could come into contact with the very virus that quarantine sought to combat. You tried not to think about that idea too much, instead focusing on a smaller annoyance: the fact that your job wasn’t deemed essential enough to stay open during this time.

Sure, you were working from home, but the way things were now there was hardly anything for you to do anyways, and most nights you were finished with your tasks early. This gave you plenty of free time, which in reality would have been much more enjoyable if you were able to actually leave the house, but no. You were stuck at home instead, boredom and restlessness rotting your brain of anything useful. You’d done everything you could think of to occupy yourself; you cleaned your kitchen, washed your clothes, folded all the laundry. Hell, you even started dusting the mantle in the living room for god’s sake. But you could only clean so much, and even with two of Japan’s top pro heroes tracking in dirt and grime each night from work, the house was usually spotless by 5pm. The only things you had left to occupy yourself at that point were video games, movies, and food.

Oh…and of course, overthinking.

Perhaps that was how you’d ended up where you were now, your legs carrying you out of bed and to the bathroom mirror to see if your current suspicions were true. About a month ago, you had noticed that one of your favorite shirts (newly found and washed, since you’d finally made it through all that pesky laundry) wasn’t fitting quite right. You didn’t think much of it at the time, passing it off as drying it for a bit too long or using too high of a heat setting. But a week later, you had the same problem occur with a pair of newer pants, and suddenly you felt self conscious. You tried to to push the feeling to the back of your mind, to stay positive and not worry about it, but it was always there. No matter how much you smiled, no matter how many times you told yourself it didn’t matter, the last thing on your mind every night was the fearful thought that you might have gained weight recently.

You’d never been slim; you had been curvy for as long as you could remember, but even from a young age you learned to be confident in yourself and your body. You always had a strong sense of self, always told yourself that your weight did not equal your worth. You knew better, and it showed. People looked up to you and admired you for that. You never cared how much you weighed; you just let your bubbly personality shine through like a midsummer’s day ray of sun. You practically glowed when you were with your friends, the sparkly smile on your face never once faltering as you laughed with them and helped them pick out new outfits they liked during mall outings. So…why should now be any different?

As you stared at yourself in the mirror, you felt anxiety start to creep up your spine, winding tightly around your throat like a constricting snake before pooling in your stomach, as heavy as a stone. Your lungs tightened and you hardly felt like you were getting any air as you looked yourself over. It was hard to tell just from your reflection…but it did seem like you had gained weight. Well, there was only one way to know for sure.

Your eyes caught the gleam of the metal scale in the corner of the room, the square shaped object intimidating you just by lying there on the floor. It was a perfectly normal thing to keep on hand in a perfectly normal household, even more so when you were in a relationship with two pro heroes who worked out and kept track of their weight on a weekly basis. Regardless, nothing about using the scale felt normal to you. You only weighed yourself at the doctor’s office, and that was it. But you wanted to know- no, you had to. It was bothering you too much not to.

Everything about this felt foreign to you. The way the scale came to life suddenly as you stepped on it, the way it took it’s time to recalibrate as you stepped back off, and the way it set itself to “zero” when it finally booted up...all of it. It felt odd when you finally pressed all of your weight to it, awkwardly waiting for the flashing numbers on the tiny digital screen to settle. And when they did, you couldn’t help but frown. You remembered a ballpark number from your last doctor’s visit, and you were nowhere near that number anymore.

You had definitely gained weight since quarantine started.

Not wanting to stand there any longer than necessary, you hopped off the scale holding back tears and tossed your clothes to the floor, opting for a shower. That would make you feel better, and then maybe you would just forget about it. You weren’t going to let this bring you down. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Lunch gave you more anxiety later on and only served as a reminder about your weight gain. But you ate anyways, because you were hungry and you knew you deserved to regardless of your weight. Still, the anxious feelings remained for the rest of the night. You only forgot about it when Izuku and Shouto returned from work minutes apart from each other, their smiles and hugs effectively chasing away any self doubts or worries that you harbored. After all, it was hard to feel anxious when you were wrapped up in a giant group hug, kisses and “I missed you’s!” being given and received all at once. The night ended on a good note, and in the end you fell asleep feeling safe and secure while nestled in between the two most beloved people in your life.

Morning came too soon, and with it, the familiar sensation of dread that you were trying not to grow accustomed to at this point, especially after yesterday. Today’s a new day, you told yourself. I can do this. You noticed that both men were once again up and at ‘em, already at work by the time you woke which left you alone in the spacious bed to your own devices. You, however, happened to have the day off, so you made a beeline for the kitchen to get breakfast before reclining on the couch, T.V. turned on for background noise while you surfed the web on your laptop. After you were finished eating, you cleaned up your dishes and took out the trash, and it was only as you were headed to the bathroom to shower afterwards that you caught sight of the sticky note on the mirror. It was in Shouto’s handwriting, short and sweet and to the point all at the same time.

Half day at work today. Be back at noon. Love you both. Shouto.

Upon closer inspection there was more writing underneath that, a little messier but still legible with a shaded in little heart drawn underneath it all.

Late shift tonight, don’t wait up for me. -Izuku <3

You smiled at the note before taking a seat on the edge of your bathtub to turn on the shower. You felt a bit of reprieve from your heavy feelings, but it was short lived as a sporadic thought crossed your mind in an attempt to seemingly ruin the rest of your day. You weren’t sure where it came from or why it was there, only that it was taking up space in your mind, and you couldn’t help yourself as you glanced to the corner of the room where the scale was supposed to be. Even though you already knew what numbers it was going to display, that didn’t stop you from wandering over and weighing yourself once more. Or, you would have, if the scale had been there. Oddly enough, it seemed to be missing. You looked around the floor for it feeling silly- all of this just to weight yourself even when you knew the outcome already? But you continued looking for it anyway. Just to make sure, you told yourself.

You found it in the cupboard under the sink, pushed all the way back to the right corner of the bottom shelf where it would be hard to spot. You didn’t think to question how it got there or who might have put it there. The only thing on your mind was confirming the digital numbers you’d discovered yesterday, so that was exactly what you did. You laid the scale on the floor before weighing yourself, and you felt…disappointed. Seeing the numbers on the screen spelled it out clearly for you, and suddenly you were spiraling again, worry settling deep into your soul as everything started to really sink in. What if other people could tell that you gained weight? What if they were judging you for it? What would they say? What would the boys think? Oh god, your boyfriends. Could they see it too? Did they pity you so much that they kept it to themselves but knew the whole time? And if they did know…how did they think about you now? Did they think you were disgusting? Did they still love you? Maybe they knew but didn’t say anything because they didn’t want to hurt your feelings?

Your thoughts spiraled out of control as you stripped down, clothes haphazardly landing wherever you tossed them. You practically entered the shower like a zombie, the boiling hot water doing little to calm your mind and ease the worries eating away at you. By the time you had lathered your hair in conditioner and started on body wash while the former was setting in, you’d been in the shower for quite some time, at least for a half hour, and the sound of the front door opening and shutting did nothing to phase you as you rinsed off the suds. Shouto’s muffled voice carried down the hallway and into the bathroom where you were as he kicked off his shoes at the front door.

“I’m home!”

It didn’t take you long to finish up after that, and soon you were drying the water off with your favorite fluffy towel and getting dressed in an old pair of comfort clothes. Since there was no need to pretend to act professional today, why not dress comfortably instead? You weren’t feeling very high maintenance today anyways.

“Hey babe.” There was a knock on the bathroom door just as you were finishing up getting dressed and tugging your shirt over your chest. You reached out a foot to swing the door open since both your hands were full, and Shouto peered in to greet you with a kiss to the cheek before nuzzling his face into yours. But you were too anxious and preoccupied to do anything other than let him love on you as hot steam filtered out through the now open door. “What would you like for dinner tonight?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “Hm, not sure. I don’t feel like making any decisions at the moment, so whatever you want is probably fine.” You finally toweled off your hair before fixing it up the way you wanted, then exited the bathroom with your partner in tow. You missed the way his gaze flitted to the corner briefly before he followed you out into the hallway.

“Are you sure?” he asked you, head tilting to the side in question.

“Yep, go ahead and pick. I don’t care either way.”

Something in your tone made him stand back for bit and watch with crossed arms as you wandered around the house with seemingly no objective. You weren’t really sure what you were doing; you didn’t really have the energy to be your happy go lucky self like usual, and so you hardly could pay attention to Shouto and shower him with your love like you normally did when he came home from work. Not to mention, you already had breakfast and watched TV, so now you just weren’t sure what to do. You felt like you were just going through the motions, in a daze like a zombie who couldn’t focus. Maybe that’s why you didn’t notice him come up behind you and place a hand on your shoulder, effectively scaring you out of your trance while you stood aimlessly by the couch.

“Are you alright? You seem a little off today.” He gently pulled you down to the couch with him, arms open for you to lay in while you cuddled up to his warm side.

“Huh? Oh, yeah! I’m just thinking a lot, sorry. Did you figure out what you wanted for dinner?”

Snap out of it, Y/N.

He gave you a skeptical look but said nothing more, letting the subject drop at that. “Well, I was thinking maybe we could order some take out and watch a movie at home. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to spend some one on one time with you. I missed you. And Izuku too…”

“I missed you too.” You let him envelope you in a tight hug, some of the stress and fogginess melting away immediately. You were thankful he only had a half day today; it was entirely possible that you might have just sat at home on the couch all day zoning out until one of the boys came home. “Oh,” you added as an afterthought, “make sure you click no contact delivery and tip well. I know you do already, but it’s especially important now.”

A small smile formed as he kissed the top of your head. “Anyone who’s willing to bring food to my love is going to get tipped extremely well. And if we weren’t in the middle of a pandemic, I would tell them thank you in person for providing for my sweet.”

“And if they aren’t willing to deliver?” you challenged.

“Then I would still tip them and say thank you, because they make their living off of that. Life is hard enough without me adding even more stress to their day, isn’t it?”

“You’re a kind person, Shouto. I love you.”

The rest of the night passed by fast, food arriving earlier than you thought it would and Shouto picking one of your favorite movies to watch as the two of you snuggled up under a comfy blanket on the couch. You fell asleep on his chest, his heartbeat lulling you off while you pressed your cheek into the crook of his neck for warmth. It was easy to feel relaxed and comfortable like that, his arms wrapped around you creating a sense of security and safety that you adored.

You were a bit confused when you woke up in bed instead of on the couch the next morning. The last thing you remembered had been the steady rise and fall of your lover’s chest; taking in your surroundings, you realized you were now laying against your usual pillow and just about swaddled in the covers. Whoever had moved you last night had taken care to make sure you were comfortable and cozy while you slept.

“Mornin, sleepyhead,” someone murmured behind you. A hand found itself against your stomach, fingers splayed to lovingly rub against your midriff as Izuku curled around you from behind. You pressed up against him for warmth before turning to face him, and when your eyes met you could see the weariness from his night shift reflected in his gaze. The word exhausted was practically written across his forehead.

“Did you sleep at all?”

“A couple hours. Work was…tiring.”

You absentmindedly brought a hand to his face, your thumb stroking over his cheek before you ruffled his hair affectionately. He let out a heavy sigh as you doted on him, eyes closing in bliss. “You okay?”

He seemed to enjoy your touch for a moment longer before reaching up to take your hand in his much larger one, eyes fluttering back open as he pressed a kiss to your open palm and made a soft noise of content. “Mm, I’m more worried about you.”

Normally his actions would leave butterflies in your stomach and make your heart beat a little bit faster. Normally, you would appreciate the concern. But you would be lying if you said you weren’t confused- What was there to be worried about? It wasn’t like anything was obviously wrong; the three of you had been doing well recently with no major arguments and no qualms with each other or your living situation. The biggest problem you had was getting the boys to pick up after themselves when it came to laundry, but that was easily solved with one stern look and an apologetic smile as they rushed to clean up their mess. So it wasn’t about your relationship in general, but about you specifically. Was there something you had done, something you had said? You wracked your brain for a reason to cause your partners concern but could find none.

Shouto walked into the room just then, pulling your attention away from Izuku briefly as he made his way over to you. He slipped into the bed on your other side, the mattress dipping under his weight and squeaking as he nuzzled up against you. With you sandwiched in between the two of them, Izuku sought to continue his conversation with you.

“You do know the scale keeps track of numbers, don’t you, love?”

It took you a minute, but you were sure both boys could tell the moment that it clicked in your mind. The sheer amount of horror you felt was enough to steal your breath away, your eyes going wide as you realized what he was trying to say. They knew. They both knew, and you were terrified of what they would say. This was the last thing you wanted to deal with this morning, the one thing you didn’t want them to find out. You weren’t sure how to react other than to try and hide your face into the pillow, so that’s exactly what you tried to do. But shoving your face into the pillow couldn’t stop the tears even if you wanted it to, and soon you were furiously trying to wipe your cheeks dry as you stammered out something, anything to explain yourself.

“Normally this wouldn’t bother me! I’m s-sorry, I don’t know why it’s gotten to me like this…”

“Y/N, listen to us. Please?” Todoroki’s voice seemed to calm you a bit, the deep baritone sound grounding you as you nodded to let them know you would listen. “Izuku mentioned to me two days ago that the weights on the scale were different. I didn’t think much of it at first, but then when I came home yesterday, the scale was back out after I had put it away, which means you were the one who got it out, right?”

“Y-Yeah…so?”

“That means the different weight must be yours.” Izuku booped your nose with his finger lightly, a gentle smile gracing his lips as you stared up at him. “Sho said you’ve been acting strange lately, and I’ve seen it too. You just haven’t seemed like yourself, baby. Especially for the past couple of days…” Had you really been acting different? Come to think of it, you might have been a little more anxious and stressed than usual about your weight, and those feelings had seeped into your every day activities, slowing you down and making you feel sluggish and out of sorts. “You know we love you no matter what, right?”

You nodded once again but remained silent, too upset and relieved at the same time to say anything.

“It doesn’t matter how much weight you gain. We’ll still love you the same, and nothing could ever change that. Besides, quarantine has affected all three of us. You’re not alone in this.” Shouto rested his chin on your head as he spoke, a single arm draped over you and Izuku.

“I gained weight too since the start of all of this,” Deku admitted with a sheepish look. “It’s nothing to be ashamed about, though! It just means Shouto makes really good food. And you still love me, right?”

“Of course I do. I love you regardless of that.” You were quick to respond, the words leaving your mouth before you could stop them.

“See? We feel the same way. You didn’t even notice I’d gained weight until I said something, right?”

You hated to admit it, but he was right. To be truthful, you hadn’t noticed, and you hadn’t cared. Izuku was still your love no matter what he weighed, and you were much too captivated with his luscious green curls half the time to pay attention to something trivial like that unless he brought attention to it like he had done now.

“It’s okay to feel upset about it. We’re here for you no matter what, and you can always come to us with anything that’s bothering you. But something like this won’t change how we feel about you, and it never will. We just want you to feel good about yourself and love yourself. And if it makes you feel better…you saw how much of that pizza I had last night, right? I ate over half of the whole thing. I’m sure I’ve gained weight too.” Shouto laughed a little.

“You’re our whole world, Y/N. You deserve everything good that we can provide you and you’re worthy of all of the love we can smother you in.”

As if to prove his point, both boys gave you a bone crushing hug and rubbed their faces against you. Somehow, some way, they always managed to chase away your troubles and make you feel wanted and needed.

“Thank you both,” you managed to squeak out.

“We love you, Y/N.” Shouto pulled away from the two of you and sat up, a hand running along your side in a comforting way. “Do you have a preference on breakfast?”

“Bacon and eggs,” came the immediate reply from a smirking Izuku.

“That’s too bad, because I wasn’t asking you!” The other boy just laughed.

“Bacon and eggs are fine. But can we make pancakes too? With maple syrup and blueberries!” you added.

Izuku’s head shot up at the mention of pancakes, eyes so bright and excited you almost couldn’t tell he was sleep deprived. Almost. “I second that!”

“Alright, alright. Pancakes it is. But you,” Shouto turned to you, “stay here in bed and relax with Izuku. Make sure he rests his eyes a bit, please. I’ll bring the two of you breakfast in bed.” He cupped your face in his hands and brought you in for a tender kiss, and you felt every little bit of care and concern he put behind it. He gave Izuku the same treatment before standing to leave, his eyes locked on the two of you still laying in bed. “I better not hear either of you get up while I’m busy, or else.”

“What if I have to use the bathroom?” Your teasing words earned you an eye roll and a smirk.

“You know what I mean. Be good.” And just like that, he was on his way to the kitchen.

Beside you, Izuku snuck up on you while you were turned away from him, his strong arms wrapping around your torso and pulling you close while he started to press kisses against your neck.

“Izuku…” you whined.

“What?"

“What are you doing?”

“Showing you how much I love you.”

You felt the return of butterflies in your stomach as your heart raced. Izuku crawled over you and straddled your waist, lips still attached to your neck but slowly working their way down.

“This isn’t resting, you know.”

“I don’t care."

[suituuup]

pieces - chapter six

Five years ago, Chloe dropped off the face of the Earth. Beca didn’t expect to see her again dancing in a strip club, out of all places.

rated: E (drug use and emotional abuse in early chapters)

ao3 link

*

Chloe didn’t register any of it. Her ears were buzzing with adrenaline and her body felt like it wasn’t even her own anymore, but her legs worked on auto-pilot as she followed Beca to the car. 

As Jesse drove away from the club and Chloe somewhat calmed down, the situation slowly dawned onto her, sending her thoughts into a spiral. 

She had just fled from Marco. She probably didn’t have a job anymore. She was homeless. 

But before she could full-on panic, a gloved hand slid inside of hers, grounding her some. Her eyes flickered up and met Beca’s. “You’re okay. We’re heading to my apartment, you’ll stay in my guest bedroom.” 

All Chloe could muster was a weak nod. All of this felt surreal.

They arrived at Beca’s place less than ten minutes later, Jesse taking a left and driving into an underground parking lot. Once the car was parked, Chloe stepped out, standing back while Beca told Jesse to drive himself home and that she would come to pick up her car tomorrow. 

“I’m up on the twelfth floor,” Beca said as she hit the elevator button. 

“Is your hand okay?” Chloe asked, only remembering now that Beca punched Marco. 

Beca made a fist then splayed out her fingers, wincing a bit. “It’s not broken at least. I’ll be fine.” 

They stepped inside the elevator, Chloe’s eyes remaining fastened to the carpet as it rode up to the right floor. She followed Beca down the hall and stood back while she unlocked her door. Chloe stepped inside after her, her eyes scanning the huge open-plan space with floor to ceiling windows. 

She remained by the entrance while Beca went to get something from the kitchen, reappearing with something wrapped in a kitchen towel. “For your cheek.” 

Chloe nodded, taking it and pressing it to her cheekbone. 

“The bedroom is right there down the hall,” Beca directed, motioning for Chloe to follow her. She hooked a right and hit the lights, revealing a soberly decorated large room with a queen-sized bed. “I’ll go get you some clothes to sleep in.” 

Chloe nodded, stepping further inside the room and lowering herself on the edge of the mattress. She realized she was shaking slightly, but she couldn’t tell if it was from leftover adrenaline or her body starting to crave a hit. 

“Here,” Beca said as she rounded the corner, setting a pair of folded sweatpants, a simple t-shirt, and her Barden hoodie down on the comforter. “The bathroom is right across the hall, I put some clean towels on the counter if you want to take a shower, and a toothbrush. I have my own bathroom so feel free to use this one whenever you want. Help yourself to anything, the kitchen cupboards are stocked up with plenty of snacks and the fridge with sodas.” 

“Okay,” Chloe whispered, briefly meeting Beca’s eyes. “Thank you.” 

“You don’t need to thank me,” Beca assured her softly, casting her a small smile. “I’m heading to bed. I’ll see you in the morning?” 

Once again, Chloe nodded. She watched Beca step out of the room and stared blankly at the wall in front of her for a while until she started feeling the physical toll of the night’s events creep up on her. She stood up, stepping out of her stripper heels and unzipping her dress. A shower would wait until morning. After changing into the spare clothes Beca had lent her, Chloe swung by the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her heavy make-up off. 

She crawled into bed a few minutes later, willing her body and mind to relax enough that she would find some sleep. The next hour was spent tossing and turning, trying to silence her craving for cocaine and her visceral need to bolt. 

But she didn’t have anywhere safe to go, or any money to buy anything. 

Chloe slipped out of bed and crossed the hall to the bathroom, opening the faucet and cupping her hands under it to gather some water to splash her face with. 

“Snap out of it,” she muttered to herself as she stared at her own reflection in the mirror, gripping the edges of the counter with both hands. 

Dark circles were permanently etched under her eyes from sleep deprivation thanks to the cocaine allowing her to go days without resting. Her cheeks were hollowed out from her weight loss and her skin a ghostly pale. She looked nearly ten years older than her actual age. 

Familiar voices wormed their way into her mind, chanting, whispering, cackling devilishly. 

Worthless. Ugly. Dumb.

A sob echoed against the bathroom walls as Chloe let go of the counter to hold her head between her hands, fingers pulling on her hair. 

“Pull yourself together,” she mumbled next as her mind warred with those parasites having made a home in her subconscious. “They’re lying.” 

Chloe knew trying to sleep was a lost battle, so she padded to the living room. If she couldn’t have cocaine, alcohol was the next best thing. Something strong, preferably, something that could muffle all those insecurities.

It took her less than two minutes to find Beca’s liquor cabinet, and she fished out a bottle of whiskey, plucking a tumbler from the cupboard above the sink. She reached for the remote and turned on the TV at a low volume so she could focus on something else than her own thoughts, settling for CNN as she poured herself a third of the glass and knocked it back. 

Familiar, comforting warmth filled her belly and spread to her limbs and chest as Chloe poured herself another, nursing this one slowly as she curled up on Beca’s couch. It took four drinks for exhaustion to gain the upper hand on Chloe’s anxiety, and she fell asleep on the couch, the near-empty bottle sitting on the coffee table. 

She woke up sometime later to someone shaking her shoulder. The light was bright behind her closed lids, and Chloe scrunched up her nose, curling up tighter on herself. 

“Chloe, wake up.” 

That voice didn’t belong to Marco. The realization drew Chloe’s mind from its foggy state and she opened her eyes to find Beca sitting in front of her. Slightly disoriented, Chloe slowly sat up. She caught sight of the bottle and guilt coupled with shame surged her insides. “I’ll--I’ll replace that.” 

Beca frowned. “What? No, that’s-- you don’t need to do that.” 

Chloe’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t-- I was craving something, and…” she trailed off, inhaling sharply as she felt her chest constrict and tears burn her eyes. “I think-- I think I need help.” 

It was odd, that feeling of instant relief as soon as she uttered the words. As though a huge weight she didn’t know was there just lifted from her chest. 

“Okay.” Beca reached out to set her hand on Chloe’s knee. Her expression was soft, her eyes warm, and Chloe immediately felt comforted. “We’ll get you help. I was on the phone with a rehab upstate earlier, they have a spot on Monday.” 

Monday. As in three days from now. 

“I can’t-- I don’t have fifty grand, Beca, and there’s--there’s--” She cut herself off, shaking her head as emotions rose to her throat and made her voice waver. She needed to work. She needed to provide for her dad. “I have to work.” Upon catching Beca’s confused look, Chloe sucked in another deep breath. “My--my dad is sick. He has late-onset MS and they can’t afford treatment on their own.” 

Realization dawned on Beca’s features as she nodded slowly, empathy swirling in her gaze. “How much money is the treatment?” 

“I give them two thousand dollars a month to cover what’s left after insurance.” 

“Do you know their bank account information?” Beca asked as she grabbed her phone, swiping her thumb over the screen to unlock it. “I’ll set up an automatic transfer each first of the month.” 

Chloe’s mouth slowly opened in shock. “What?” She croaked out, her bottom lip trembling. “I can’t ask you to pay for it.” 

“You didn’t,” Beca said softly, glancing up. “I’m offering. And I’m covering the rehab cost as well.” 

Chloe blinked twice in slow succession. “I don’t-- I don’t--” she started to object, but reason quickly gained the upper hand. She couldn’t afford any of those things, and she couldn’t afford to stay like this, either. She was legitimately afraid she might die if she continued down that path. “I don’t know what to say except thank you, but that doesn’t seem like enough. I’ll pay you back though. Every cent of it.” 

“I don’t want you to worry about that,” Beca murmured, squeezing her knee gently as she gae Chloe a tight-lipped smile. “The best way you can thank me is by focusing on getting better.” 

A few tears rolled down Chloe’s cheeks, and she was at a loss for words for a little while as her heart swelled in her chest. 

She hadn’t felt that in a long time. 

“So um, next Monday?” She asked then, swiping her thumbs over her cheeks. 

“Yeah. It’s an hour drive away, I took my Monday morning off to drive you. The program is thirty days,” Beca explained. “The nurse I had on the phone told me that detoxing yourself on your own before that could be dangerous and advised against it. I wasn’t sure… what type of drug you’re taking, but she said it didn’t matter. You could go through a cold turkey kind of thing and while I’m not exactly comfortable with you continuing to use until then, it’s what’s best, according to her.” 

Chloe sniffled. “I don’t have any with me. Some of my stash is at the club and the rest is at Marco’s place.” 

“Right, um… do you know when he isn’t there? You probably need to get some stuff, right?” 

“He’s at the club most nights. Usually gets there from 9 pm, so we could go after?”

“I’ll text Luke and Jesse to come with us for reinforcements in case he’s there. I kneed the guy in the balls, he must be pretty pissed.” Beca cleared her throat, eyeing Chloe. “Will you be okay until tonight? You know, without taking anything?” 

Chloe nodded. “I’ll manage. I just need distractions or else I get really agitated.” 

“Okay. I can definitely help with that,” Beca said, taking her hand back. “I was gonna make breakfast, are you hungry?” 

“No, not really. I could drink a coffee, though? After I shower.” 

Beca smiled and pushed to her feet. “You got it. Take your time.” 

Trusting other people had been a recurring issue for Chloe in the past few years, but she willed herself not to start doubting Beca’s intentions. After her shower, Chloe headed back to the main room, her step faltering upon walking past an open door. She tentatively peered inside, quickly realizing this was Beca’s office. Her eyes popped wider at the sight of the five gramophones sitting on a shelf, among framed gold and platinum records. 

She stepped further inside to take a closer look, her heart making a painful lurch as her gaze fell on a picture of the Bellas after their first ICCA win. Chloe reached out to pluck the frame off the surface, a wave of nostalgia sweeping over her as she thought back to that day. 

“You okay?” 

Chloe jumped a little, glancing over her shoulder as she hastily but carefully placed the frame back where it had been. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine, Chlo,” Beca assured her softly. She nodded towards the leather couch in the corner. “Have a seat, I’ll bring you your coffee.” 

Chloe nodded and crossed the room, admiring the hundreds of records neatly tucked in a built-in library on the opposite wall. 

“You can pick something to listen to, if you want,” Beca told her when she returned with two cups, twin curls of steam rising from them. She set Chloe’s on the small table in front of the couch and curled up on one end while Chloe picked a record. She ended up going for Rumours, one of her all-time favorite albums, and took it out, setting it on the record player. 

The opening chords of Dreams filled the room as she lowered the stylus on the edge, and she padded to the couch, cradling her mug between her palms. 

“Fleetwood Mac. Always been one of your favorite,” Beca observed with a soft expression as she lifted her mug to take a sip. “How are you feeling?” 

“I’m okay.” Chloe knew the first telltale signs of craving would hit her sometime around midday, but she would hang in there. “You made it, huh? To the top?” 

Beca broke eye-contact, her cheeks reddening. “I was lucky to come across amazing people throughout my career.” 

Chloe knew Beca’s sheer amount of raw talent was the root of her success, but Beca still seemed to be her humble self. “Do you speak to Aubrey often?” 

“Once in a while. More so in the past two weeks as we tried to figure out a way to help you. Otherwise, we still have the group chat, and we’re planning a reunion this summer.” 

“Oh,” Chloe let out upon finding out the girls still hung out together. Her heart ached in her chest over everything she had missed, but she only had herself to blame for that one.

“And you’ll be there,” Beca added with a soft smile. “With us.” 

Chloe swallowed the lump forming in her throat; the road to recovery was bound to be a long and tumultuous journey, but maybe having a goal in sight was what she needed to stay on track during low moments. 

“The nurse said cellphones wouldn’t be allowed for the first two weeks, but I’ll give you Aubrey’s number for the next two, okay? She would love to hear from you.” 

Chloe nodded, her lips curling in a hint of a smile. “Yeah, okay.”

She spent the rest of the afternoon hauled up in Beca’s office (she weirdly felt at ease there), curled up on the couch and listening to soothing records as her body and mind battled against an array of negative feelings and sensations. 

Around 10 pm, she and Beca drove to Marco’s place accompanied by Luke and Jesse. Chloe kept a key under the mat for those nights she was so drunk or high she usually forgot them at the club and was grateful to find it there. 

“I’ll be quick,” she told Beca, heading into the bedroom to get a duffle bag from the bottom of the dresser and throwing a bunch of comfy clothes into it. 

She knew that even if Marco did come home nothing would happen with Luke and Jesse being there, but that didn’t stop sweat from trickling down her back as she grabbed her essentials as quickly as she could. 

“Okay. I’ve got everything,” she said as she met them by the door about five minutes later, slightly out of breath. Her anxiety was through the roof, not lessening even when they got back into the car, but she tried not to let it show. 

It was only when she was able to take a hit back at Beca’s apartment that Chloe was able to calm herself down. 

“Are you alright?” Beca asked a while later when Chloe eventually emerged. 

She sat on the living-room couch, her laptop balanced on her thighs. 

Chloe nodded, tugging on her sleeves as she shuffled to sit on the end of it. She didn’t take as much as she used to, not seeking that euphoric state she needed while she was at work. Just enough to deal with the darkness swirling inside her. “Thank you.” 

“Are you hungry? I was thinking of ordering pizza, with pineapple on one half for you weirdo.” 

Chloe snickered. “Yeah, I could eat a little.” 

Monday came before Chloe realized. She packed a bag and slid in beside Beca, staring out the window most of the drive as they headed upstate. Nerves sprouted in her belly as Beca parked in front of the fancy-looking facility, and Chloe puffed out a breath. 

Beca cast her a reassuring smile. “I’ll go check in with you.” 

Nodding, Chloe stepped out and grabbed her bag from the trunk, slinging it over her shoulder. They walked through the glass sliding doors and headed towards the desk, where a friendly-looking man greeted them. 

“Hi, my name is Chloe Beale, I’m here, um, to start rehab.” 

She felt Beca’s fingers gently wrap around hers as the man checked his computer, and let her tense shoulders sag. 

“Right this way, I’ll show you to your room, Ms. Beale. Your friend can come, too.” 

“Thank you.” 

She didn’t let go of Beca’s hand as they followed the employee up some stairs and down the hall. The room was bright and spacious, with a queen-sized bed and an amazing view of the forest behind the building. Chloe set her bag down on the mattress and looked around as the man went through basic rules, giving him her phone when requested. Chloe would be allowed to call someone during bad days with the phone downstairs, though.

He left shortly after, and Chloe inhaled sharply as she turned towards Beca. “I guess I’ll write you a letter?” She asked, her voice wavering slightly. 

“I’d love that,” Beca murmured. “You’re going to nail this, Chlo. I’m just a phone call away if you need to talk, alright?” 

Chloe nodded. “Yeah.” She stepped up to Beca and pulled her into a hug, closing her eyes as she relished in their closeness. “I’ll see you in a month.” 

Beca backed away, smiling. Her eyes shone with unshed tears. “I’m so proud of you for doing this,” she whispered, squeezing Chloe’s hand as she took a step back. “See you in a month.” 

Chloe fought to hold onto her emotions until the door shut behind Beca, breaking down as soon as silence surrounded her. 

For the first time in six years, she was on her own, and the month ahead might be her hardest challenge, yet.

[starshiningsirius]

The most sweetest thing(Yandere Trey x reader)

Thank you to @swirly-writes for sending me yandere prompt from which I gained my inspiration

BAKERY BOIS BIRTHDAY! NO DENIAL IN SAYING HE'S MY FAVORITE IN HEARTSBYUL!😍🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂

A new bakery opened up in town, it's popularity sky risen in a short amount of time. It was known for its sweets that taste like another food entirely. An astounding feet something that no one could understand how he did it, almost like magic.

Said baker and owner named Trey Clover was deemed a master at what he did. His smiles toward customers who would enter where his pearly white teeth would show had any girl fall for him instantly. He wouldn't pay them any mind though, he was only focused on making his bakery a success that was until he met someone that changed his goal.

It wasn't as crowded in the morning when he first opens the shop. No one would come in until about three hours later. That is until one day she did.

Her name was Y/n who was beautiful in looks standards but with an expression of apathy on her face you'd think she was nothing more than a doll. Trey had heard her enter with the bell above the door alerting him and immediately went to the counter to serve her.

At first he was surprised seeing such a beautiful young lady enter his shop, he couldn't even deny the blush that was visible on his face. Something about her seemed off though as he examined her for a quick second he noticed how empty she looked. He didn't know why but it did make him a bit curious.

When he caught himself staring for awhile he cleared his throat a little and put on his best smile.

"Hello, Ms. Is there something I can get you?"

"A slice of cake."

"And what would you like it to taste like?"

"Nothing the way it is would be just fine."

This answer actually surprised him seeing as people come here for desserts that taste like whole other foods. No one ever asks for the things he makes himself without the help of his magic.

His bewildered expression didn't go unnoticed by the female in front of him as she thought about how easily his expression changed with her order. She assumed he didn't get orders like hers often.

"Ah, coming right up Ms."

He wouldn't admit it but he was actually giddy for once like he wanted to be famous for his sweets in general, he did run a bakery after all. He served it to her and she ate it inside the small cafe like place.

He actually pretended to clean the counters while she indulged herself with the blank expression she came in with. He couldn't deny the anxiety pounding in his heart when he saw the fork come up to her lips as she took a bite.

That's when he saw it. A small smile grace her angelic features. He was sure it was real and rare at that, but he couldn't believe nor get it out of his head. From that day forward she started to come in around opening time and Trey would anticipate meeting with her. She would order different sweets all tasting how Trey would make it and bringing a smile to her face that Trey would long to see. Energizing him every morning and keeping him eager to see the sun rise on the next day.

After about the first five meetings with him she gave him her name, Y/n L/n. As nice as it sounded to roll off his tongue hearing her repeat his name was far more appealing. They would now exchange more conversations with one another in the mornings that was barren and empty with no other customers. She would wait for Trey to make a sweet she had asked for that he didn't have in stock already which left some time to conversate.

She actually brought up how he didn't mention her emotional detachment not once.

"Everyone has their reasons for who they are I wouldn't want you to have to explain yourself just for the sake of my curiosity."

"Th -thank you." That's the first time he heard her stutter before, he found it cute.

"To be honest I really like your sweets, they are divine, and I can't help but feel happy when I eat them." Her words offered Trey to chuckle a little seeing a small smile on Y/n's face he could feel his heart beat faster.

So he responded with,

"Keep smiling like that. It makes my heart happy."

🥳🥳🥳 . 🥳🥳🥳 . 🥳🥳🥳 .🥳🥳

Of course not all good things come to an end. Trey had gotten closer with Y/n and knew she was not the apathetic girl he first saw, he was able to decipher her feelings a lot better. She was shy, kind, polite, and virtually loved his sweets. With how she was raised by a high classed family that undermines women expressing themselves he could understand the general picture of why she had an apathetic look on her face half the time.

It did anger him to some extent but at the same time if he had seen her smile so often it wouldn't be so precious as when he had first met her. The fact that she likes his desserts for what they are also stood out to him as what made her different. There were so many things Trey could list in his head that would entail why he had fallen for the lovely lady that entered his shop every morning.

At this point he was head over heels for her awaiting to bake any treat the girl asked for the very next day. Until she didn't come one morning and that had him worried.

'What could possibly be holding her from coming here? She never misses a day.'

Questions and inquiries ran through Trey's head, running a hand through his green hair throughout the morning up until he heard the bell ring. It caught his attention except it wasn't her, it was just a normal group of customers that came a few hours after the store opened. He hadn't realized how long he had been standing there.

It was going to be a long day.

. 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳 .🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳 .🥳🥳🥳🥳

Finally the day was almost done, at least in Trey's head he praised being able to close the store. His mind was still running rampant on not seeing the sweet angel that would bless his morning with a ray of sunshine and motivate him to move on with the day.

He sighed with exhaustion seeing as everyone always ordered their dessert to taste different which meant no breaks on using his magic.

As he pushed up his glasses the little bell above the door leading in rang again. He took a breath and plastered on a fake smile to hide his exhaustion. It was a couple that came in, he couldn't hide his shock though when he saw the female paired with a man.

She didn't look happy as she did the previous morning with anticipation to try his sweets. Instead she had the expressionless face that she usually had except it looked more sad. Trey had gotten better at reading her emotions often over the course of their encounters. She was wearing an expensive dress which contrasted with her casual clothing. Of course Trey thought she looked stunning, but the look on her face wasn't making it very complete.

He didn't realize he was staring for a while as the couple had already stopped at the counter. The man cleared cleared his throat obnoxiously and Trey could already tell he was someone already unfavorable to him.

"What would you like sir?"

When he ordered Trey had to try hard not to let his smile falter, clenching his fists behind the counter in agitation. He took a quick glance over at Y/n who had avoided his gaze and looked as though she was repressing a frown for an empty look instead. It was like she was pretending not to know him which he couldn't deny did sting quite a bit. Trey being the calculating person he is went along with the charade as he deduced it had to do something with the man next to her.

"And for you Ms.?" As soon as the man had finished he glanced over at Y/n and secretly winked at her.

"Ah, for her just a dark coffee is fine. You've look like you've been gaining more weight recently which is unbecoming of you my dear fiancee. So make it taste like a salad please."

Trey couldn't help but looked toward Y/n who looked like she wanted to speak but shut her mouth immediately after opening. It definitely rubbed him the wrong way, not only was this guy arrogant and rude, he blatantly insulted his angel on her weight of all things when she looked as though she hadn't gained anything. Not only that but he was going to be married to her! The world was unfair and hell had frozen over with such a man like that Trey could only imagine how miserable Y/n already was by the look on her face. She always loved his sweets and only ordered that when she came, and he would always adore the smile adorned on her face that would shine light brighter than a sunrise in the Afterglow Savanna.. He decided to at least try and speak up for her.

"Excuse me sir but that doesn't look like what your fiancee wanted to order." The venom in his voice when he mentioned her partnership with the man was clear as day.

"I don't recall asking for your opinion sir, I choose what's best for my future wife she is one of a kind in her looks and I want to keep it that way." Trey's entire body flinched seething with rage as he stayed in his place and smile visibly twitched into a frown.

He did learn to keep his mouth shut and have patience, if serving under the former dorm leader back in his NRC school years taught him anything it was that first and foremost losing your cool wouldn't do any good.

He apologized maintaining a cool facade before going to the kitchen. Where he could quietly say a few profanities to himself. As he did almost finished the order with all that was left being to change the taste with his magic, he considered changing the flavor the man had ordered on her coffee.

With a wave of his pen it tasted just like the cakes she'd ask for on the usual mornings. Serving their food to them both he kept his golden eyes on her reaction when she tasted it.

Her eyes did in fact widen with shock not expecting sweetness to touch her tongue afterall. It caught the attention of the young man who had asked her what was wrong. She quickly fixed the look on her face to go back to expressionless.

"Nothing it just amazes, the amount of talent this baker has. It really does taste different." Her words were enough to send his heart up in the air like fireworks.

He could see the light coming back in her eyes again. It gave him life he cherished it and begun to crave it.

🥳🥳🥳 . 🥳🥳🥳 . 🥳🥳🥳

Over the next couple of days the same routine occurred. She'd come in with her husband to be and he'd ask for different things. All at different times of the day though, that part wasn't consistent. Trey believed he was hoping for Y/n to gain more interest in eating healthier even though Y/n told him when she came to the bakery it was her first time eating sweets.

He did notice over the pass few days even with him secretly changing the taste to something sweet her eyes were getting duller. She no longer smiled like she once did before.

So once he heard yelling outside his shop before closing time after yet another day, he took a peek through the glass windows near the entrance. It was Y/n and that man with not a single soul to be seen. Except her eyes were beyond what is considered life like.

It was emotionless and still empty would be a better definition. The man was yelling at her, he couldn't hear why but it didn't matter. She heard a few brief words about her not wanting to marry him and the situation was easily pieced together in Trey's mind.

He saw the man's rage and his own was overflowing. Not to mention when he came inside and he finally saw her. Still in a beautiful dress, but with a bruise on her cheek. He was about a second from killing the man across from him.

Trey was a gentleman meaning he'd never hit a lady even if they cheated or whatever the case. He didn't have to do any of that because she denied his marriage. More than likely she was quiet and shy when she told the man.

Lucky for Trey he was just given even more of a reason to kill him. Pretending everything to be fine when he ordered. As Trey went in the kitchen yet again he changed up his usual ingredients for a few more deadlier ones.

It didn't take long for the one of the two to fall asleep peacefully and the other to have a face full of cake taking his last bite of anything he'll ever eat again. Might as well make good use of all NRC has taught him afterall.

🥳🥳🥳 . 🥳🥳🥳 . 🥳🥳🥳 .

"Oh, I see your up." A pleased smile came on to his face as he walked into the upstairs room of the bakery.

She sat up from the bed she was resting in still feeling her mind hazy and the bruise on her cheek aching.

"Trey? What happened where's Dylan and-" She was already wide awake and asking for information on what had occurred.

"Whoa, whoa, calm down I talked to him and he said he'll cut off the marriage. Okay? I managed to convince him since he loves to come here to eat so much I gave him a recipe he wouldn't forget. 'He was going to make millions off of it', so he said. He had no need for your families riches anymore."

"Wha? But that doesn't make much sense." She was trying hard to process the information but the headache she had made it hard.

"Hey it's okay, it's okay. I know it's a lot to process you passed out from the shock so I kept you here overnight." He said trying to take her mind off the situation.

"I know this isn't the best time but here I know how much you wanted another slice." Before he could hand it to her she hugged him tightly to where he almost fell and dropped the cake while he was at it.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you Trey! Your the most sweetest person to do something like this just for me." She even had tears in her eyes. She really didn't like Dylan apparently. That made him happy at the very least.

"Don't mention it, I'm just happy to see your okay. Why don't you stay here for the day all the shock must have drained you. Not to mention that bruise has got to heal. You can have sweets anytime of the day you want." His heart was hammering in his chest and his face had turned up the heat like an oven. This reaction was far more than he expected but he wasn't unhappy about it.

He saw the sparkles of life in her eyes when he mentioned sweets. Chuckling to himself he handed her the slice of cake.

Seeing her take a bite of it always did bring him hapiness. He would have to give her a sedative toward dinner time and reexplain the all the false information again since her and her former husband to be was considered missing. They were supposed to come into the bakery but Trey feigned innocence when the authorities asked if they had come in. It would be fine though. He made a whole bunch of different treats with drug inducing forgetfulness just for her.

All he cared about now was protecting her smile. He admired her smile from afar seeing it as the most sweetest thing he'd never get tired of.

Masterlist

[bates--boy]

Well, at least it wasn’t performing in a mall, but the gap between doing a public performance at a mall and performing for the opening of a boutique wasn’t that wide, and it certainly wasn’t doing an opening for a bigger band that they can wiggle into the limelight with. (Peter couldn’t wait until a bigger label signed them on.)

          He finished helping their DJ set up the table and let Adel take over going through the setlist with her so he could scan the place. The boutique was urban, heavy on the hip-hop money aesthetic. The racks were few and bare, probably some of the cheaper stuff so that should anyone start feeling their fingers get sticky during the party, the boutique wouldn’t be at such a huge loss. Black velvet walls with velvet chairs like the VIP section of a club, with epoxy floor tiles through which rainbow neon LED lights glowed like a portal to a land of sin.

          (It made Peter miss the nightclub, and Van. And the Mad Hatta.)

          (It made Peter miss Wonderland.)

          (Shit, he was completely out of Wonderland at home.)

          He hurried to Naseem to help set up the huge speakers, and Tarsha to plug in and test the mics, and he scurried over to help set up the stacks of flyers when Mike looked him right in the eye and said, “Peter, sit your ass somewhere and calm down.”

          So Peter perched himself on one of the loudspeakers, watching the mingling in the crowd. Everyone appeared in black clothing or as dark as their closet had, and Peter, with his all black hoodie, jeans, and  Just a hint of a smile appeared on his face, as if it’s cautious to fully form until Peter decided with full conviction that the knot in his stomach that traveled as prickly static to his fingers and toes all came from either mind-blowing excitement or world-ending anxiety. He noticed movement from the corner of his eye, and the smile shone fully as Naseem ambled back up the lit platform, a flute of bubbling champagne in each hand.

          “Don’t drink too much,” Naseem said, holding a glass out to Peter. He shrugged, raising his own to his mouth. “Or do. This stuff’s pretty cheap.”

          Peter took the glass with a nod and took a sip, managing to stifle a disappointed sneer as he resigned to twirling the flute in his fingers. “Thanks.”

          “Whatcha doin’ up here, all Batman and shit?” Naseem said.

          “Scoping out how high our chances are of getting somewhere with this performance.” Peter angled a bit to give Naseem some room to sit, and he prayed the speakers were sturdy enough to hold their weight without caving in. 

          “Whattaya mean?”

          “You know, like...” Peter gestured to the air. “This is a first step to our dream, but it’s such a small step. This place isn’t even big enough to pack a hundred people. I’ve seen birthday parties bigger than this. And how are we gonna get these people to visit our website or listen to our music? No one’s taking the flyers! Would they even remember us once our show’s over? That guy’s on his fourth glass!”

          And when Naseem’s hand patted Peter’s back, Peter suddenly felt deflated. Silly. Embarrassed, even, his cheeks gaining something past their usual color as he rewound through his thoughts like a cringeworthy cassette. 

          Despite his soothing back rub, Naseem spoke with a scolding baritone as he said, “You know, most first-time artists would kill for even an opportunity like this. Have you ever thought about keeping a gratitude journal?”

          Peter only gave a low, throaty “Hmmm...” and Naseem went on, “Anyways, we’ll figure something out. Mike’s thinking of hitting up those writers of... what the hell was that podcast called? The one with the weird town and the music as weather?”

          “Welcome to Night Vale,” Peter replied.

          “Yeah, that weird shit Adel’s crazy about.” Naseem said. “We’re advertising and putting our music out there. Shit, maybe we’ll get lucky and one of our songs become TikTok-able.”

          Peter made a face, and turned partway to Naseem so Naseem would see that face. “That’s lucky to you?”

          “Yeah? Why wouldn’t it be?” Naseem snickered. “Don’t act like you don’t use it, TikTok user shuggaondarimm.” At the mortification that suddenly paled Peter’s face, Naseem threw his head back and laughed. “Yeah, I know about your account, dude. By the way, nice twerk videos, but really stupid of you to hop on that nutmeg craze.”

          Naseem didn’t even seem to notice Peter’s lips pulled tight and his eyes boring into the floor when he asked, “So, about your scoping... what’s the verdict?”

          Peter passed his tongue over his lips and cast his gaze back over the crowd. “Well... everyone’s drunk, so they might be hyped up enough to like our music--”

          “Or be so brutally honest about hating our stuff that they’ll throw things at us.” Peter raised a brow at him. “What? Weren’t you trying to be realistic?”

         “And weren’t you trying to be uplifting?” Peter shook his head. “Anyways, we already have some hip-hop fans here, judging by their dress and their decision to show up for our show first thing instead of arriving fashionably late, so that could be to our advantage. Though the boutique’s closed off for a private opening, our music can maybe carry out to the other mall shoppers, and there has to be at least a handful of people who are into the obscure, underground hip hop scene who can then share this new collective with their friends--”

          Peter checked over his shoulder, finding that Naseem’s eyes were indeed burning into the back of his head, and sighed. “Basically, we have a 30% chance of getting anywhere with this.”

          “Wow, all those factors, and we still come up short?” Naseem snorted. He shook his head. “You’re too sprightly to be a pessimist.”

          “That’s not pessimism. Besides, it’s not exactly a bad thing.” He shrugged and raised his glass to his lips. “God likes underdogs.”

         “I thought you don’t believe in God?”

         Peter cleared his throat mid-sip. “Can’t you let me be fake deep for a moment, please? I’m nervous, you know!”

          Naseem started to reply (probably something witty, judging by the return of that smooth and disarming smile) when Tarsha came up behind them and tapped Naseem on the shoulder. “We’re set up. Let’s get this started!”

          Naseem and Peter got off the speaker and drained the rest of their drinks. “Well, Attrossity, looks like we get to gamble.”

          The background music, an unidentifiable trap-hop bass, died slowly, and the glow from the platform grew brighter. Mike stepped up front and center, the professional, the veteran, the man who carried this dream for years on his shoulders.

         “Ay yo yo, what is up, my peopleeeeee?!”

          “WHOOOOOOOO!” cried the half-drunk and fully-drunk crowd, sloshing alcohol as they raised  their cups in the air. 

          “We gotta little treat for ya tonight, hosted graciously by BoomBox Boutiques.” Mike turned halfway to the crew behind them, heads bowed and one hand clasped around the other wrist, a pose they all agreed on. “Nefertiti!”

         Tarsha raised her microphone.

         “Cassius!”

          Adel’s mic shot in the air.

          “Bet Chaker!”

          Naseem raised his mic.

          “Attrossity!”

          Peter, fighting the giggles bubbles up from his stomach (yes, it was excitement. It was definitely excitement) as his fist-clenched microphone shot in the air.

          Mike slapped his chest, an audible thump so close to his microphone. “And yours truly, Mickey V, just like the boxer. MizFists. Remember our name, because we are gonna tear the fucking! Roof! Dooooown!”

          Oh, shit, these people really liked the idea of the ceiling collasping on their heads, because they were already throwing their arms out and screaming before Mike even signaled with his chin for the DJ to start the music.

        A shift in the air. Bass in his blood. The house was gonna jump and they were gonna tell them how high. There should be a camera to document this moment, a slowmo pan-out of shots of Karlstad’s newest and greatest. Peter, even in this small space and this go-nowhere event, felt like a god among his people as Mike led them in with the first verse.

          Comin’ in like hawks, now, ta pick ya bones           Swoop ya up, send ya crashin’ to da stones           Get to the meat of the matter, but not with cherrypickers           Can’t live a life off their knees, these fucking bootlickers!           Try to copy what’s fly, think they can land on their feet           And endin’ their lives as outlines on the streets           Can’t even say it’s a shame            They heard the sirens, they knew about the game.

[aye-write]

Summary: Research student Isla Reid has been fascinated with the legend of the Kildonian Chessmen - a trio of mythical Pokemon rumoured to have lived centuries ago on the remote region of Kildo - for as long as she can remember. So, when a museum exhibit on the Chessmen is set to open in Kildo’s Hydrogate City, coinciding with her independent research project, she packs herself and her trusty partner Furret onto the long ferry journey bound for this new region.

However, when she arrives in Kildo, thoughts of her research, new friends, and an entire Pokedex’s worth of new Pokemon, are quickly dashed. Kildo is a troubled place, beset by natural disasters and fierce rivalries among its people. Isla suddenly finds herself at the centre of a centuries-old plot to invoke the wrath of the Chessmen, and is set on a race against time to stop them, before it spells destruction for the entire region.

Other Links: Read it on Ao3!

Tags: OC Pokemon journey, OC region, Fakemon region, bisexual main character, found family, ace main character.

If you are not interested in these posts, especially as I know Pokemon journeyfic is fairly niche, please blacklist the tag #Checkmate. Most of the story will be put under a Readmore anyway!

Author’s Note: This is a mammoth chapter (over 5k!) but it wouldn't have felt right ending it at any other point. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! I am hoping to keep up a bimonthly update schedule to give me plenty of time to focus on work and my other novels, so I'm aiming for February 7th as my next update date! Anyway, here we go with chapter one! 

*****

Chapter One

Isla Reid stared down at the churning ocean and wondered what would happen if she fell overboard.  

It could happen, she reasoned. The railings felt flimsy and only came up to her waist. With no ferry staff nearby and only a handful of other passengers too preoccupied with puffing on cigarettes, or watching their Pokemon, would anyone even notice if she did fall? Someone’s Snubbull careened past and Isla could have sworn she heard it cackle. That was another thought. A collision with a Snubbull could easily launch a full-grown person six or seven feet. At least. More than enough to send her over the railings and down into the roiling ocean below. It wouldn’t be pretty, no, but she would have taken anything over what was coming next.

Over my dead body, her mother declared when Isla gave her the news, will my daughter be going halfway around the world alone. As if she’d conveniently forgotten the past four years Isla had spent working and living independently the moment that inter-regional travel was more than a fragile possibility. Before she knew it, her mother had taken over, sitting at the telephone with the air of a military general and a dog-eared phonebook that hadn’t seen the light of day since Isla was a child. Banging the phone down ten minutes later, her mother announced that if she really must go all the way to Kildo (but you really should reconsider, darling, it’s ever so dangerous!), she would be collected from the ferry by her cousins. Cousins they’d had no contact with in years. Cousins that, if she was being honest, Isla had forgotten even existed.

Isla fixed her gaze forward. The ocean unspooled in every direction, slate-grey water in a haze of mist. The ferry ploughed on, swaying like the rocking of a newborn baby, kicking up fans of white foam. A man hanging over the railings made a funny burping noise as they cleared a large wave. Soba mewled and pushed her head into Isla’s clenched hands until she relaxed them enough to pet her. They were getting closer. And she definitely wasn’t in Johto anymore.

A stir of movement behind her and she was pulled back from her percolating thoughts. A group of men shifted through a cloud of sweet-smelling smoke towards the seats. The youngest, who couldn’t have been more than thirteen or fourteen, had a Pidgey perched on his shoulder and a frown deepening his face.

“Shouldn’t we go inside?” he prompted the older men, glancing up at the leaded sky. “It looks like it’s going to rain. I saw on the news that another storm is coming.”

“Don’t be daft!” a man with a wiry beard laughed. His accent was thick, heavy on the vowels, and took Isla a moment to understand. “We’ll be docked well before any bad weather hits.”

“You hope,” the younger boy muttered, but it was drowned out by laughter. “Dad, I’m serious! Remember I was telling you about ADoomWithAView – that streamer? He said that all these storms and stuff are because the Vitalities are angry with— Dad? Dad! Dad, I’m trying to talk to you.”

“Son, you would do well to stop listening to that brainwashing drivel.”

“It’s not brainwashing! I’m serious! Humanity’s dependence on technology is what—”

The rest of the boy’s protests were drowned out by a prolonged blast of the ship’s horn. In the distance, something loomed out of the thinning mist. Land. They were approaching land. Soba squeaked as a ding-dong-ding rang out and a voice, in that same thick accent, crackled over the speakers.

“Good afternoon, passengers, we will soon be arriving in Port Glen. Passengers are reminded that all personal belongings and luggage must be removed from the baggage area, communal spaces, and all outer decks before disembarking. For those disembarking via the gangplank, a reminder that all Pokemon – with the exception of service Pokemon – must be safely stowed in Pokeballs and not released until you are safely onto the harbour. To repeat, we will soon be arriving in Port Glen. Passengers are reminded—”

Isla’s heart tightened in her chest. This was it. They were here.

She let her Furret bump against her hands, Soba’s soft fur instantly soothing. “I guess it’s time to face the unknown, eh?”

“Fur!” Soba squeaked.

Isla waited until nearly everyone else had disappeared down the gangplank before braving it herself. She’d travelled as light as possible, much to her mother’s disdain, but the backpack still felt she like she was hauling around a bag of rocks instead of a few changes of clothes and a laptop. Anxiety prickled over her skin – or was it just the cold? – as she faced her first tentative steps into Kildo.

She was almost disappointed when she looked out onto a perfectly ordinary little port town. Tucked into an alcove of beach, Port Glen’s harbour was filled with people and the dreamy hues of blue and green. The town lay ahead in a generous curve, bordered by a strip of sea that already looked darker, almost black, under the deepening sky. A thin wind roused the hair on the back of her neck.

Her mother had given her a reference photograph of Rhona, the cousin who was supposed to be meeting her. Related by marriage through some obscure aunt, Isla struggled to notice even one iota of family resemblance between them. The woman in the photograph had pale skin and a shock of red curls, but not much else in the way of distinguishing features.

At the bottom of the gangplank, Isla swept her gaze around, desperate for a sign of her chaperone. But there was no-one waiting. And as the last few passengers sidestepped her, heading towards the town, Isla suddenly felt very small and very alone. While she hadn’t been thrilled at the prospect of staying, even temporarily, with strangers, being alone in a new place hundreds of miles from home was an entirely different brand of anxiety.

Panicky thoughts looped through Isla’s head. Where was Rhona? Why wasn’t she here? Had she forgotten? Had she somehow missed her? Or maybe she just hadn’t seen her yet. But who was still here? She could see a sailor tying ropes, a child wailing at a dropped ice cream, a woman arguing with a… what even was that?

The Pokemon looked like an ordinary Wingull at first, so much so that she nearly skipped over it, but the longer she looked, the more she saw that was wrong with it. This Pokemon was much rounder, a body like it’d swallowed a bowling ball, and its wings were shorter and rimmed with black, rather than the traditional blue. Isla delved for her battered old Pokedex and lined it up with this new Pokemon.

“Wingull, the Seagull Pokemon. Facing competition from Chibber for natural resources, Wingull have resorted to stealing food from witless tourists instead. As such, it has gained weight over time, as well as a more deceiving nature.”

So it was a Kildonian Wingull! That made sense. Isla was the first to admit that her knowledge of native Kildo Pokemon was lacking – a poor decision in hindsight – but she really should have been able to work out it was a regional variant. A flush deepened her cheeks as she imagined her professor’s scowl.

With no guardian in sight, Isla watched the scene unfolding in front of her. The Kildonian Wingull screeched as it dove at the offending woman at the end of the docks, the sound rippling over the wind. There was something in the woman’s hands, something that the Wingull seemed intent on, certainly enough not to be deterred at the attempts to fend it off. Isla let her bag fall and released Soba from her Pokeball.

“Soba, go and help! Use Quick Attack to chase that Pokemon away!”

Soba bulleted towards the struggling woman, squashing herself flat against the ground like a snake, rising into a fierce, full-body strike when the unsuspecting Wingull’s back was turned. With another ear-splitting screech, the Wingull went down like a sack of potatoes.

By the time Isla caught up, the Wingull was gone, dropping into the water of the harbour with an indignant squawk. The woman it had accosted looked harassed as she tried to piece together a ripped plastic bag brimming with wrapped sandwiches.

“Are you alright?” Isla asked, patting her thigh to call Soba back to her side.

“Oh, I’m fine, chick, but I can’t say the same about my lunch! Those Wingull are a terrible nuisance. These tourists think it’s funny to feed them and then it’s us locals that have to live with them. Oh shoot,” she cursed as one of the sandwiches slipped out of her grasp.

Isla ducked down to retrieve it. “Here, let me help you.”

“Oh, thank you, chick,” the woman said. “I have a spare bag here. Gosh, I can’t thank you enough for stopping to help. Usually when a Wingull gets its sights on your food, it’s a foregone conclusion.”

“They definitely seem a lot more, uh, food-oriented than the ones we have back home!” Isla laughed as she helped drop the sandwiches into the new bag.

“Back home?” the woman’s eyes brightened. “Oh, I thought your accent wasn’t local. You’re Isla, right? I can’t believe I didn’t realise it straight away. You’re the spit of your mum, so you are.”

Isla tried very hard not to mind being compared to her mother, but she took a small comfort in the fact that her waif of a mother would be far more scandalised. Was this woman really her cousin? Rhona, if this was her, was pleasantly round, much bigger than she was in the photograph. And while she was still small compared to Isla, it felt like a comfort to finally see another woman in their family that looked like her. And Rhona was pretty, her red curls pulled into a modest bun and her plump skin pebbledashed with freckles. She met Rhona’s eyes and they filled with warmth. Instantly, Isla felt soothed.

“Yes!” she said, barely able to hide her relief. “I’m Isla. And you’re Mrs—”

“Now, chick, you’ll call me Rhona. We’re family after all.”

“Rhona,” Isla corrected herself shyly. “Thanks ever so for letting me stay.”

“Oh, it’s not a problem, dear. Always happy to have visitors! I’m just sorry I’m a bit late, I’d stopped to pick up lunch and that blasted Wingull got a sniff of it. Chased me all the way down from the road end! If it hadn’t been for you and your lovely, uh… what Pokemon is this, dear?”

“This is Soba,” Isla stroked Furret and she purred appreciatively. “She’s a Furret. I’m not sure if you have them here. We’ve been partners for years.”

“She’s gorgeous!” Rhona said. “Don’t leave her alone with my daughter, though, she’s obsessed with all things Pokemon. She might try and adopt her!”

“You have a daughter?” Isla asked, frantically wracking her brain to try and remember if her mother had ever mentioned that.

“Yes, my Skye. She’s thirteen and Pokemon daft. And there’s my son, Blair. He’s the same age as you, give or take. They’re both very much looking forward to meeting you.”

Isla felt like something had just severed her at the chest. Why hadn’t her mother mentioned Rhona had children? Living with one stranger had been a scary enough prospect, now there were two more cousins to contend with?

“Come on, chick, shall we head off?”

As the harbour decking melted into gravel path, Rhona’s questioning amplified – How’s your mum? How has she been getting on? Does she still see Great Aunt Florence? Does she enjoy working for herself? – as if she were trying to make up for ten years of missed conversation. Even though Isla could only give short answers, Rhona still nodded and responded as if she’d just given her the secrets of the universe.

“So, what about you, Isla?” Rhona eventually asked as they turned away from the streets and approached a dirt road, littered with pebbles. “Your Mum said you needed a place to stay for a while, but she was a bit hazy with the details. What brings you all the way to Kildo?”

By the time Isla finished explaining her final year thesis proposal, Rhona oohing and ahhing the whole way through, they were coming up on the Whispering Pines Croft. A weather-beaten cottage sat beneath the shade of a looming forest and sloping hills. Fencing laced through the land like thread through fabric, bordering off sections of patchwork ground in brown and green and the occasional flash of vibrant purple. If Isla squinted hard enough, she could make out a field full of Miltank grazing in the distance. Another field to its left was occupied with the puffy, cotton-wool silhouettes of Wooloo. The whole place smelled of earth and mud, with a tinge of salt, wafting in by the ocean-bound breeze.

Rhona paused to catch her breath. “The Whispering Pines Croft has been in our family for generations. Every generation, we seem to find something new to build.” Indeed, the cottage looked like a mishmash, a Frankenstein’s monster of building expansions. “We do all sorts here. Livestock, farming, everything. The soil isn’t as forgiving as it is in other regions, it’s full of salt from the ocean, but we manage.”

Rhona didn’t take her shoes off when they clomped inside, but Isla slipped hers off, conscious of the mud clinging to the bottom of her soles. She put Soba in her Pokeball for the same reason. Rhona led her through to a kitchen with a low ceiling, steamy with condensation, and thick with the smell of baked apples. Like the house itself, the kitchen had a hodgepodge feel, a cosy mismatch. A proper family place, a life centred around a kitchen table.

“You can throw your stuff anywhere,” Rhona said, but Isla, totally out of her depth and wishing very much she could shrink to half her size to accommodate herself in this tiny, bustling place, just slotted her backpack in the gap by the fridge.

“Can I help you with anything?” Isla asked, the pressure of standing there like a stubbed toe eclipsing every other feeling.

“No, chick, you sit yourself down. You must be tired,” Rhona said as she laid the sandwiches down on the table.  “Here, you take first choice, but be warned, if there isn’t an egg and cress left for my mother, she’ll fall out with you.”

Isla’s hand froze. “Your mum lives with you?”

“Yes. She went with my Dad to assisted living for a while, but when he passed, well, it was easier on everyone to have her here. Does her the world of good to be around people and have a little independence,” Rhona said over the clatter of plates. “She’s got more hobbies than I do, in fact! She teaches classes in the old Kildonian language on the weekends too. Keeps her out of mischief.”

“Really?” Isla’s heart leapt to her throat. “The Kildonian language is something I wanted to look into for my report!”

“Well, that’s a happy coincidence then. I’m sure she’ll be happy to go over some of it with you. Oh, hang on a moment,” she said, reaching up to pull a Pokeball from an apron hanging on the kitchen door. “I’m just going to call everyone to the table.”

Isla’s mouthful of cheese salad sandwich almost ended up splattering the table as Rhona tossed the Pokeball to the ground, and the kitchen was invaded by a flurry of grey and red feathers. The Pokemon – whatever it was – came up to Rhona’s hip, had a squat body, long muscular legs, and powerful wings that it beat to great effect as it noticed the stranger. Isla yelped as the Pokemon cocked its head, its movements quick and jerky, like the ticking of a clock.

“Ruchter, calm your feathers,” Rhona said, tapping the Pokemon on its haunches. It clucked and crowed, shaking its head fiercely. “This is Isla. She’ll be staying with us for a bit.”

The Pokemon relaxed, but still fixed Isla with a withering glare. Isla consulted her Pokedex.

“Ruchter, the Farmer Pokemon. The evolved form of Chickter. Able to precisely work tough soil with their talons, Ruchter can cover a small field in minutes. Despite looking old and frail, they are tireless, and can work for hours without a break.”

Rhona ruffled the Pokemon’s tail feathers. “Ruchter, please go and fetch Blair and Skye from the fields.”

The Pokemon was off before Rhona could even finish her sentence, barrelling out the door with all the grace of a drunk Tauros.

Rhona poured tea into a flowery mug and arranged one of the sandwiches on a matching plate. “Isla, I’m just going to pop up with this for my Mum. I’ll be right back. There’s lemonades and sodas in the fridge, so help yourself.” Rhona was halfway up the stairs when she called back, “And if my two come in tracking mud everywhere, make sure they wash their hands before sitting down!”

The tightness in Isla’s chest squeezed harder. Any moment now she was going to be dropped into a meeting with two new mystery cousins. What would they be like? Would they like her? Would they think she was weird, as most people did? The memories of barbed stares resurfaced like a Sharpedo’s fin breaking the water. Strangers, her peers, her friends, even her own family, all of them silently judging her, as she tried to navigate life being both big and invisible.

No, she needed to calm down. Spiralling wouldn’t help. She repeated it like a mantra inside her head. She hadn’t even met them, and she’d already decided they wouldn’t like her. She had to get better at this.

All the same, her stomach stayed knotted and eating felt like the last thing she wanted to do. Though maybe she should wait until her cousins came in anyway, do the polite thing. She paused and went to the fridge instead, opening and draining half a can of fizzy lemonade. The bubbles pulsed through her twisty stomach, prickling like pins and needles.

She heard the voices before she saw their owners, one deep and droning, the other light and lilting. Then the door swung open, Ruchter scrambling inside in a skittering of talons on wooden floor, two people bringing up the rear.

“Skye, take off your shoes! Mam will go mad if you track mud in.”

He hadn’t seen her. Neither of them had. She didn’t know if that felt better or worse. As the two of them tromped towards the sink, she cleared her throat.

The oldest – a young man with long red hair tied in a ponytail – stopped in his tracks. “Oh, hey! You must be Isla? Nice to meet you,” he extended a hand covered in mud only to retract it when he saw Isla staring. “Maybe later, eh? Skye, make room at the sink please.”

“It’s nice to meet you too!” Isla said over the sound of running water. “Blair and Skye, right?”

“That’s us!” Blair shook his hands off at the sink. “Nice to have you here, cousin. It’s quite something having family coming from all the way in Johto, isn’t it, Skye?”

Skye moved like a ghost, silently staring under a canopy of brown fringe. “Do you have Johto Pokemon?”

Isla blinked. “Ah, yes. Just one though.”

“I want to see.”

“Oh,” Isla looked at Blair and then to Ruchter. “Is that okay?”

“Go ahead!” Blair took a savage bite out of a cheese and pickle sandwich. “Let me just put Ruchter out so the two don’t end up in a scrap.”

After Ruchter went haring out to the garden in pursuit of scattered pellets, Isla let Soba bounce out of her Pokeball. Her younger cousin’s eyes lit up.

“She’s so pretty! What is she?”

“She’s a Furret. They evolve from something called a Sentret. They’re kind of common around where I live, I’m afraid,” she added with a nervous chuckle, then wondered why on earth she was apologising.  

“What type is she?”

“Normal.”

“Is she strong?”

“She’s not super strong, but we’ve been together for seven years. She knows how to handle herself.”

“What moves does she know?”

“Quick Attack, Fury Swipes, Rest, things like that.”  

“What’s her nature?”

“The lady at the Pokemon Centre thinks she’s Bashful, if I remember right.”

“Does she have any TM moves?” And before Isla could answer, Skye kept going. “What’s her favourite Rock flavour? Where did you get her from? Does she—”

“Hey, easy up, Miss Missy,” Blair nudged his sister. “Come on, let Isla relax and eat her lunch. You need to get something in you too. Keep your strength up for the big day.”

Skye rolled her eyes but did as she was told.

“Big day?” Isla asked, desperate for something to fill the silence.

“Skye is going to Aberdrip City in a few days to get her very first Pokemon,” Blair said proudly.

Isla smiled encouragingly but the fact that her younger cousin was a year late in getting her first Pokemon didn’t escape her attention. She decided not to ask as Skye chattered on about Aberdrip City and how she still hadn’t decided which starter she wanted. By the time Rhona came back downstairs, Isla felt fuller and warmer than she had in days.

“I see you guys are getting acquainted,” Rhona smiled, collapsing into the chair next to her daughter and dropping a kiss on her head. “Here, what did you leave me? Ugh, cream cheese and cucumber. I don’t know why they keep it in the multibuy deal, no-one likes it.” She took a bite anyway. “How are you, Isla?”

“I’m good,” Isla said, and she meant it. “Thanks again for having me. It’s a real help.”

“So, what are your plans for Kildo?” Blair asked, nibbling on a crust. “Seeing anywhere nice?”

“I’m here for a research trip,” Isla said. “I’m doing a project on the legend of the Chessmen Pokemon, so really, what I want to do is visit the places that the Chessmen were rumoured to live, and then finish up with the exhibition in Hydrogate City.”

“Hydrogate is a long way to travel,” Blair said seriously. “Especially with all the… complications.”

Rhona shot Blair a fierce look. “Now, Blair, don’t go terrifying the poor lass! There’s nothing wrong, chick. Just a bit of funny weather.”

“And the rest, Mam! There was a landslip near Auchtermelty the other day. They reckon it could take days to clear. It’s totally stopped trade and deliveries; they have to go the long way around. Wee Arthur – that’s Auchtermelty’s Gym Leader, Isla – has been trying to dig it out single handed with his Pokemon but even he had to stop because it was too dangerous.”

“Arabella’s mother says it’s because the Vitalities are unhappy,” Skye interjected.

“Arabella’s mother needs to take a long walk off a short pier,” Blair said, and Skye let out a snort of laughter.

“Blair, watch your mouth,” Rhona said, without looking up.

“Well how stupid can you get?” Blair said. “The Vitalities aren’t to blame for this.”

“Wait, what’s all this about?” Isla asked, confused.

“Just an old legend, chick.” Rhona said. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard of them, considering you’re interested in the Chessmen tale.”  

“Of course she hasn’t,” a voice rasped from the doorway and Isla nearly dropped her can of lemonade. Standing in the door’s alcove was an elderly woman, skin deeply lined, and grey hair styled into a candyfloss-like perm. She was tiny – maybe a whole foot smaller than Blair – but her voice was sharp and crisp like every word held a pointed edge. “Incomers don’t make a habit of learning our secrets,” the woman said, fixing her gaze on Isla. “Then they wouldn’t be secrets, would they?”

“Mum!” Rhona said, her voice tight. “What are you doing up?”

“You think I wouldn’t get up to greet our guest? Especially one who has such a vetted interest in our local legends?”

“Oh, here we go,” Blair stood up. “I think I’m going to get the Miltank in. Looks like a storm on the horizon. Skye, are you coming?”

Isla glanced out the window. The sky had turned granite-grey, swirled with black.  When Skye and Blair left, a thin wind send the temperature plummeting. Rhona fiddled with the thermostat and the heating clanged into life, but it didn’t make a difference. Icy fingers had worked their way up Isla’s spine the minute the old woman had spoken.

“Isla, this is my mum, Morag. You can call her Nana Morag though, as my two do.” Rhona said. “Mum, why don’t you tell Isla about the Vitalities while I wash up?”

“Why not?” Nana Morag said, settling herself into the chair that Skye left empty. “The Vitalities legend dates to round about the same time as the Chessmen. Think of the two as intertwined, rather than separate. The Vitalities, made up of Voltean, Burnach, Creakrone, and Liathsong, were said to be able to give – and take – all forms of energy from the world around them. Legend has it that the earliest settlers, who came here centuries ago, were given gifts from the Vitalities that allowed them to heat their homes, harness the ocean, work on the harsh land, and even have some form of electricity hundreds of years before it became common use. Now, the Chessmen, they were different. They were said to control—”

“I know this,” Isla couldn’t help herself. “They’re known as the Progression, Expression, and Protection Pokemon. They gave early Kildonians the means to develop industry, arts, and security.”

The old woman nodded approvingly. “You know your stuff. Very good for an incomer.”

“Mother,” Rhona said warningly.

“You know how the legend ends, yes?” Nana Morag checked. “The Chessmen, enraged with how humans squandered their gifts, tore the region apart and set humanity back hundreds of years. The Chessmen became dormant and the Vitalities were banished, leaving the humans to rebuild alone. Many people believe the Vitalities are responsible for all the natural disasters—”

“They’re not disasters, Mother.”

“—because they’re still furious about being banished all those years ago.”

“Fascinating,” Isla breathed out. “Is there anything else you can tell me about them?”

“I think, for now, we’ll get you sorted in your room, shall we?” Rhona interjected hastily.

“Oh, of course. Thank you,” Isla said, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice.

As she manoeuvred her backpack out of the gap by the fridge, Nana Morag caught her by the elbow, her thin, bony hand proving a surprisingly strong grip. “I have some books that you might find interesting. I’ll drop them off for you later.”

And then Isla was climbing the creaky old stairs, ready to try and slot herself into this strange new home with these strange new people.

**

The rest of the day passed slowly, like petals of a flower unfurling in the sun. She met Kenneth, Rhona’s husband, who split his time between the farm and the market in town. He was frighteningly tall, too tall for the cottages’ low ceilings, and he walked with a noticeable hump even when there was enough space. Rhona was a mean cook, serving up a vast pot of bubbling stew, and Isla had to banish all thoughts of whether the meat too was “home-grown” from her head in order to enjoy it.

Tiredness swept in the moment she laid her knife and fork down. The night came in so much faster in Kildo than Johto, and it felt somehow thicker and darker, like she was swaddled in a large black cloak. She was glad when Rhona took one look at her when the family was doing the final storm checks on the farm and sent her straight up to bed.

Maybe it was the fresh air, maybe it was the excitement, maybe it was the long journey, but the second her head hit the pillow, Isla was dead asleep.

Hours slipped by, or maybe it was minutes, until her world was split apart by a huge bang! She sat bolt upright, cocooned in slippery blankets, and it was all she could do not to topple headfirst out of the bed. As the world phased in around her, freezing cold air gusted into the tiny room, causing goosepimples to erupt on her bare skin. The window, left on the latch before she fell asleep, had blown open. The storm had hit.

Slamming the light on, she untangled herself and grappled with the slippery latch. Eventually she shut out the wind. Outside, everything was pitch black like the swirl of spilled ink, and the rain lashed against the house, sounding like bullets. Isla pressed her face to the window, her breath misting the glass. Something bobbed in the distance, a single pin of light, moving through the velvety dark. It looked too small to be Blair or Kenneth. But who else would be out there during a storm?

The light moved closer. Isla scrubbed impatiently at the fogged glass, terrified that if she took her eyes away, even for a moment, it would disappear. It grew, doubling first, then tripling in size, then a crack of lightning split the sky. Isla let out a gasp as her entire room plunged into darkness. The power was out.

The light in the garden was growing brighter.

Or was it really a light? It looked almost solid now. Like a real living thing. Or maybe not a something. Maybe a someone. Something behind the light looked like the silhouette of a child.

It intensified, burning so bright that it seared Isla’s eyes and for a moment, all she saw was white. Then it faded and was gone. The lamp on her bedside table flickered back into life. The winds seemed to calm. The rain simpered to a stop. And Isla was alone, aside from the impression of a pair of wide, childlike eyes burned into the back of her head.

**

As we have a full Pokedex (130+ Fakemon), we decided to provide more details about each new Pokemon as it's introduced, especially as we may not always be able to give full details for each one. These aren't necessary to enjoy the story but it's here for anyone who is interested. So, here are the dex entries for Kildonian Wingull and Ruchter!

Kildonian Wingull Number: 041 Type: Water/Flying Evolution: Kleptern at Lv25 Abilities: Keen Eye/Pickpocket. HA: Rain Dish Stats: 50/55/30/30/30/75 Dex Description: Facing severe competition from Chibber for natural resources, Wingull have resorted to stealing food from witless tourists instead. As such, it has gained weight over time, but has also gained a more deceiving nature.

Ruchter Number: 090 Type: Flying/Ground Evolution: Evolved from Chickter (Happiness, Male-only) Abilities: Early Bird/Tough Claws. HA: Vital Spirit Stats: 100/125/55/50/55/90 Dex Description: Ruchter, the Farmer Pokemon. The evolved form of Chickter. Able to precisely work tough soil with their talons, Ruchter can cover a small field in minutes. Despite looking old and frail, they are tireless, and can work for hours without a break.”

[gainerstories]

Professor Plump

*UNLOCKED*

As a big fat thank you to everyone who has supported this blog and enjoyed my stories, I am unlocking one of my favorite stories off Patreon. This has been a rough year for everyone and y’all enjoy a little treat. Of course, if you want more (20+ more fattening stories in fact) you know where to go. Enjoy. 

As much as Robert Daniels loved being a professor, he woke up full of dread on the first day of fall semester. At 28 he was the youngest tenure track faculty in his department and he often felt that all eyes were on him. His first academic year had been rough, exhausting, and tiresome and he wasn’t ready to get back in the game. He just wanted his beautifully sunny and lazy summer vacation to last one or two more months.

As he sat up in bed his belly spilled forward pushing down his morning wood. There was no doubt he’d gained quite a bit of pudge in the last few months. It didn’t bother him, however, as most of his colleagues were plump and he viewed extra weight as a sign of contentment and maturity. During the school year he had actually lost weight from stress and being overworked. His new, rounder form lent a sense of satisfaction.

As Robert stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom to shower he took a close look at himself. He’d be turning 29 soon and was finally starting to look like a man. His face had grown scruffy and his chest hair finally bloomed across his pecs and down to his puffy stomach. The thirty pounds of fat that clung to his belly also gave him a more mature look. He was now firmly within “dad bod” territory and wore that badge with pride. He scooped his fat up with both his hands and gave it a hearty jiggle. He wondered if anyone on campus would comment on his somewhat weight gain.

Turning around, Robert examined his rear which was now fluffy and dimpled with cellulite. He noticed that even his ass had grown a bit hairier along with a small patch of fuzz on his lower back, framed between two bulging love handles. He could recall seeing the same patch on his father and wondering if the same was in store for himself. This memory cemented his perceived transition into manhood.

Robert’s thighs had also thickened up a bit and now touched when he was standing straight. He rubbed his thighs and gave them a slap, admiring how they bounced. Lately, he had no choice but to manspread when he sat down. Crossing his legs was a thing of the past. The added weight on his lower half gave him a sense of groundedness. All around the extra pudge made him feel strong and unshakable, despite jiggling quite a lot when he actually did shake.

Most of this excess poundage had been accrued during a month long cruise down Central America. Robert had spent almost every single day getting tipsy on fruity blended drinks and satisfying his drunchies from dusk ‘til dawn at the buffet. Carbs became his best friend, soaking up the sugary alcoholic concoctions he guzzled during the day. Altogether, cruise life was a much needed respite from the long nights of grading papers and doing research during the academic year.

His salary did not allow him to indulge in fancy foods very often, and so this cruise was an opportunity to go hog wild. He made a conscious decision to eat and live like a king. As a result, he began to notice his body expanding only midway through the trip. It seemed as though out of nowhere he had grown a squishy paunch that jutted out behind his shirts. By the end of the vacation he was even larger, noticing fat accumulating all over his body.

As he stood in front of his bathroom mirror, Robert found himself particularly fascinated by the small white stretch marks that had formed at the top of his inner thighs. He traced his fingers over their subtle indentations. He hadn’t seen fresh stretch marks since puberty when his shoulders expanded overnight one summer. He was shocked to see the same thing happen simply from overeating on a long vacation.

Plump, tan, and satisfied, Robert stepped into the shower with vigor and began to get ready for his first day back to work. He trimmed his wild scruff back to a presentable shadow and styled his hair. He then slipped into underwear that clung more than usual to his meaty rump and resultantly compressed his bulge more than usual. He would have to remember to buy some new pairs. T-shirts had also grown a bit snug but this was not a huge concern for they would be hidden behind a button up. What he hadn’t considered was that his button ups from last year would also struggle to fit around his new body.

Robert sucked in his gut while doing each button. He let his stomach spill forward and was shocked at just how much the shirt did not fit. Scrambling through his closet he found the loosest button up he owned and put it on. It was still snug and would definitely be strained when he sat down, but it would have to suffice. Next, he slid into his stretchiest pair of chinos and was instantly filled with anxiety.

The fabric clung to his thighs and ass leaving little to the imagination. This would have been tolerable except for the fact that the waistband would not button no matter how hard he tried. With no other option, Robert scrounged a safety pin from the utility drawer and fastened the pants closed. Donning one of his bulkier belts he hoped no one would notice he’d outgrown his pants.

His day commenced with a faculty meeting catered with coffee and pastries. Although he had eaten a breakfast sandwich immediately upon getting to campus, he grabbed a healthy looking danish for the meeting. It was dry and mediocre as campus food tended to be, but that didn’t stop him from inhaling it within minutes. A few of his colleagues eyed his bulging waistline although no one made a comment.

Midway through the two hour meeting Robert found that his stomach was already growling to be fed. With no other choice, he would have to eat another Danish despite the fact he would be the only one going for seconds. He stood to grab one more danish and as he sat down he heard the unmistakable noise of a seam busting. Praying no one else heard, he subtly reached down to his thighs where a small hole had formed.

After the meeting he headed straight to the bathroom to examine the damage. It wasn’t too bad, maybe just an inch or so large. Plus, his underwear matched his pants so it was barely noticeable. He figured he could get through the day without anyone noticing. Although no one noticed the tear in his pants, his students were fully aware of his newfound growth.

“Mr. Daniels lookin’ THICK,” someone commented before his first class began.

Robert ignored the comment and got on with his lecture. Still, in the back of his head he worried about his appearance and snug outfit. There was no question he would be investing in some new work clothes. By the end of the class he was hungry once again. At least it was lunch time, so he felt justified in heading to the student union for a big meal. He grabbed a massive burrito, chips and guac, a cookie, and large soda which he brought back to his desk.

Such a filling lunch was exactly what he needed. The food was comforting and satisfying, giving the plump professor a sense of peace. After scarfing it all down he leaned back in his chair and sighed. Just as he did so two buttons on his shirt went shooting across the room. “Fuck,” he said aloud to himself and went searching for the buttons so he could sew them back on. As he knelt on his hands and knees he felt the contents of his belly slosh forward and the seam of his pants rip even further.

Eventually, he found the missing buttons and broke out the sewing kit to get them back on. By the time he was finished stitching himself back into his clothes, there was someone knocking at his door. He’d forgotten about office hours. In a mad rush he cleaned the food wrappers off his desk and greeted the student. As he sat back down at his desk the same two buttons snapped back off and shot under his desk. Although the student overtly stared at Robert’s bulging gut, filled to the brim with his fattening lunch, neither of them acknowledged the embarrassment.

After the student left, Robert took off the button up and slipped his spare sport coat over his tee. The tee was more than a little snug and definitely didn’t hide much- the indentation of his belly button was fully visible- but it would have to do. After a constant stream of students over the course of an hour Robert rushed to his next class. The lecture left Robert feeling exhausted and tired. It was evening and he had grown peckish again, so he decided to grab a bite to eat before he had a meeting with the dean and could go home.

Hawaiian barbecue sounded like a good idea when he ordered it. However, after gobbling up every last morsel, the young professor felt uncomfortably full and bloated. He yearned for to return to the cruise ship where he could take a long nap after overindulging, but instead he sluggishly headed to the dean’s office. His belly had swelled considerably with the Hawaiian food and he found himself having to stretch the hem of his shirt down to ensure his gut was fully concealed.

Once inside, Robert cautiously took a seat in one of the rickety old chairs in the waiting room for the dean. After a few seconds he felt a snap underneath his ass as the seat of the chair gave way. Trying to be as subtle as possible, Robert cautiously lifted himself from the broken chair and casually examined a painting on the wall until the dean greeted him.

Once inside, the dean offered him a home baked muffin that his wife had made. Robert tried to refuse at first but the dean pushed it on him. He began pecking at the muffin and realized it was indeed quite moist and delicious. He polished it off in a couple minutes and resisted licking his fingers. By the end of the meeting the dean persuaded Robert to take one more muffin for the road. Without a second thought, Robert greedily snatched the biggest muffin of the bunch.

As he walked through the campus at night, illuminated by lanterns, Robert gobbled up the muffin while reflecting on the fact that he was in desperate need of a new wardrobe. His belly was stuffed to capacity and the sheer weight of it bulging out in front of him forced Robert to walk slow and steady with his shoulders back and hips forward. Freed from his constricting button up, his rounded gut peeked out from behind the sport coat and wobbled back and forth with each step to his car.

The walk seemed longer than usual, likely because he was slower than usual. Somewhat winded, Robert couldn’t wait to sit down as he opened the door to his hatchback. However, as he did so, a booming snap assaulted his ears and he felt his belly spill forward into his lap. Robert’s belt had completely snapped in half while the thigh of his pants simultaneously split all the way open from knee to crotch. His girth was simply too much to contain.

At least it happened at the end of the day, he told himself.

[msbluebell]

Hey! How about a Captured AU where Byleth, before all this, had a thing with Dimitri and is pregnant by the time she is brought to Enbarr? 💔

Oh boy.

Oh boy.

This one is going to hurt, isn’t it? There’s no way it’s not. There’s no way not to hurt in this one. I’m sorry guys, but melmcshane is the one that did this to you all. I’m merely writing these scenarios in the most logical/in character way I know how. I didn’t do this!

Before we get into what happens if Byleth is pregnant during captivity, we need to figure out how this would happen. Now, it’s no secret that I’m against student/teacher while the student is in school, and Dimitri is only 17 when he’s in school which is iffy as shit to me. I may have projected that onto Byleth as well, y’know, just wanting to keep the power dynamics at balance. It’s very clear to me that Dimitri and Byleth do fall in love over the course of the school year, but I imagine one of the things holding them back is the fact that Byleth is Dimitri’s teacher and Dimitri is the prince of Faerghus.

So the affair would have had to happen late in the year. Both biologically and personally speaking. I mean, Byleth would have had to be in the extremely early stages of pregnancy to go into the battle without noticeable changes, especially considering her default clothes shows off here naval. She would have had to be in the first trimester, which gives us a three month interval.Now, Dimitri was on a downward spiral during that interval, but there’s a certain point I think we can pin when this affair would have happened. Now, I’m going to go ahead and say it didn’t happen post-reveal because Dimitri was not okay and I doubt he nor Byleth would have indulged in such an intimate moment at that time. It would have been iffy at best, and I don’t think either one of them would have been emotionally able to 

If I had to take a guess when they’d indulge in such a moment, I think I would put my bets on the night before visiting the holy tomb actually.

Logically speaking, I think that’s the best bet. If Byleth and Dimitri have harbored feelings for one another that they’ve been holding back based on the fact that Byleth is his teacher, then I think that this is the time that issues would seem most irrelevant to either of them. Not only does this take place after one of the moments that I have speculated either of them could have realized they’ve fallen in love in the game, but this is also a critical moment where they don’t know what will happen. Neither of them know what will happen when Byleth receives the revelation, and even if Byleth is expecting nothing based on what she knows about what happened to Sothis that no one else does, there’s no guarantee that she will not come out of this unchanged, or perhaps even replaced/overwritten by Sothis. 

So, maybe the night before the ritual Dimitri comes to check on Byleth, or maybe it’s the other way around considering he mentions that he hasn’t been sleeping well lately. Either way, they’re both worried about the other, and they don’t know what will happen, or what the future holds, and this might be their last chance to tell each other about their feelings. Maybe it started out innocent enough, with some mutually reassuring words, mutual attempts at comfort, and then it got more heavy from there. Comfort somehow became admitting they don’t wanna lose each other, which somehow became a kiss, which lead to them forgetting everything outside that moment and just focusing on each other, which lead to that night. 

It was a thing of passion and comfort, because they’re scared everything will change and they’ll lose each other and then may be the first and last time the get this. 

They’re…not wrong.

After the holy tomb there were more important things to focus on. Dimitri’s mental health has rapidly declined, and there’s a war marching toward them, and things have gone to hell. So there’s no time to talk about what happened, not yet, right now they need to focus. They can talk later, if they survive.

Maybe they did say something before battle, maybe they promised that after they would talk. Who knows. In any case, the battle goes as it does in the game, with Edelgard’s forces taking Garreg Mach and basically destroying it, and Byleth falling off that cliff.

So, when Byleth fell off that cliff she would have been about two months into her pregnancy. That’s early enough both to not be showing and for the baby to possibly survive the fall with their mother so long as Byleth didn’t land on her stomach or anything. So, for the sake of the prompt, I’m going to say that the baby got lucky here and the force of impact didn’t do much to disrupt the pregnancy. Now Byleth is in a coma, and pregnant, and the Imperial troops probably find her.Now, I’m going to assume some field medics are on the case, but I doubt they’re going to be looking for signs of pregnancy in a soldier, especially one that survived falling from a cliff, so they don’t realize right away and keep Byleth put under for the trip to Enbarr like in the original Captured Post. They put her in the tower, lock her up, and things continue as it was in my original AU.

Except that, of course, things have to change if Byleth is pregnant.

Now, I’m going off the assumption Byleth didn’t realize she was pregnant at first.  Observant as she is, I doubt that the possibility of pregnancy was the first thing on her mind at all during the last month or two. If she noticed she missed her period than she probably assumed she was irregular because of stress and anxiety or something.

Three months into the pregnancy though? She’s going to start showing a bit.

Now, three months is the end of the first trimester, so she’s starting to show more than a little bump. During the second month she could brush off a little bump as some weight gain, maybe, but three months in and it’s becomes a little difficult to mistake a swell for extra fat tissue. By this time she will miss her third period in a row, and would start showing more noticeable symptoms. Morning sickness would definitely be an issue, a heightened sense of smell as well as fatigue, much more frequent urination, breathlessness, headaches, mood swings, frequent changes in libido, and of course, breast swelling.

Yeah, pregnant ladies deal with a lot of bullshit, and being trapped in a tower shouldn’t be one of them.

Now, Byleth isn’t stupid. That said, I can see her being in denial at first. She’s already trapped here, she can’t be pregnant on top of that! She probably denies it for as long as she can.

But no one else is stupid either, and she has people watching her for signs of health risks and such. They probably notice something is up right away and have healers sent in. And even if Byleth somehow denied them the chance to check her, it would become very obvious to everyone very fast that she’s pregnant.

Can you imagine how horrified some of the Black Eagles student’s would be to realized they locked up their pregnant professor in a tower?

So they find out she’s pregnant. I imagine that, at first, Edelgard isn’t too happy with the news. There’s probably a lot of debate over who the father could even be, because I doubt that Byleth would share that particular information. Some of the more observant students, like Hubert, could venture a guess that it was Dimitri, but there’s no solid evidence yet. There’s probably a lot of debate about what to do about the professor, specifically what to do about the child. Some might have even been in favor of, y’know, easing up on the captivity (Dorothea), or at least putting her under house arrest as an alternative (Ferdie), just anything to ease up on a pregnant woman. Someone may have suggested…”accidentally” inducing a miscarriage (which I think would be a last fucking straw for a lot of the students, not going to lie, you can only justify so much awful shit in the name of safety) which got very quickly eliminated from the ideas. Either way, it’s considered an unresolved issue…at first.

Byleth, herself, would be stuck on what to do. She’s not stupid, she knows that if she has this child then they’re probably going to take them, or kill them, or…something. Worst case scenario they grow up trapped in this room for all their life and never see the outside. Or Edelgard takes them as fills their head with nonsense. Or…or…

She can’t see a good way for this to end. The best she can hope for is a rescue, or to escape while she’s still early. But security will have been doubled by this, and she doubts she can escape with a baby in her arms. Risking herself is one thing, risking an innocent baby is another. But staying doesn’t seem any better.

Byleth may even also legitimately be considering somehow aborting the child herself out of sheer desperation. It’s not that she doesn’t want the babe, she just legitimately can’t see a way to save them.

Let’s say that there’s no chance to get rid of the baby though, what happens?

I can see Edelgard being resentful…at first. But the longer the pregnancy goes on, the softer her feelings for the idea becomes. She might never have a child of her own, after all, there’s no certainty, and the idea of raising the babe as her own family has appeal. 

Byleth would swell, of course, and go through the turmoils of pregnancy without the father. I wonder if Byleth would ever rub her belly and think about Dimitri? I wonder if she would wonder if he’s alive? I wonder if she sings to the babe? Or tells it stories? Babies are supposed to be able to sense that stuff in the womb, right? That’s what the stories say. So she probably tells them about their father when she’s all alone. She probably tells them about their grandfather too, and the mercenaries, and Garreg Mach, and what little she knows about Faerghus. I wonder if she knows any lullabies? I wonder if she has to make some up? I wonder if she tells them about the Blue Lions, about kind Ashe, and gentle Mercedes, and loyal Dedue, and clever Sylvain, and responsible Ingrid, and fierce Felix, and loving Dimitri.

I wonder if she agonizes over the names. I wonder if she wishes Dimitri was there to help her. I wonder if she rubs her belly and tries to imagine what kind of names Dimitri would have liked, what kind would fit Faerghus.

Her child deserves to grow up knowing these people, knowing their home, but instead they’re going to know round walls and windowless rooms.

I wonder if she gives birth in that room of if they let her into an infirmary. She probably gives birth in that room.

They probably let her keep the baby herself, because newborns need constant attention from their mother. They need to be nursed, and changed, and given constant affection. Maybe, that’s what gets Byleth through the first year and a half of her captivity, taking care of the baby. Naming them, telling them stories, playing with their hair.

Byleth is a new mother, and she didn’t have a mother of her own to learn from, but she has nothing but time to learn in this room. 

I wonder if the babe has blonde or green hair? I wonder if they have green or blue eyes? I wonder if they have their father’s nose? Their grandfather’s ears? I wonder if Byleth looks at them and thinks about Dimitri sometimes, and the fact this child might never meet him.

Okay, but in my discord server we decided that Link from BOTW is the Dimileth love child and now I can’t stop thinking about it.

One thing the child does have is a crest of Blaiddyd.

Pretty hard to hide who the father is with that.

The Black Eagles all try to be involved in raising the child. They brings toys, and books, and clothes. The stay and tell stories and sing songs. But it doesn’t make up for the fact that the child is growing up in such an environment and never will.

Edelgard probably relocates the child after the first half a year, though. She moves them to a royal nursery and has nannies help raise them, and tries to act as a second mother to them. It was probably a big fight to get them out of the room, with lot’s of Byleth screaming and kicking and clawing at the guards as they took her child. Edelgard probably tried to placate Byleth, saying that the babe needed to be outside some, and that she’ll join him as soon as the war is over.

Or maybe that doesn’t happen. Maybe the babe is locked in that room with their mother, having never seen the outside world. Never knowing anything but that room.

I think that one is sadder and more likely, if only to keep Byleth complacent, so we’ll go with that one.

The babe probably grows up with two different extremes. On one hand Edelgard is trying to be their mother and feel their head with Empire propaganda. On the other hand Byleth is telling them not to trust Edelgard, whispering different stories than the one they’ve heard about the war and he people involved. The grow up with one side telling them about the evils of the church and crests, and the other telling them about the best memories of Garreg Mach and the people there.

For years, the only thing the child hears about their father is that he’s either an enemy of the Empire, a dead one, or he was a kind and just man. 

If the poor babe was locked up with their mother and never let out than they’re probably more inclined to believe her over the other mother that’s not really their mother that visits all the time, even if she does bring great toys. The news would be more mixed if they’re raised in the nursery. But since I’m leaning towards the former…

The child grows up pale and used to enclosed walls. They probably don’t know what the sky looks like, or the sun, or a forest, or lake, or the stars. They’ve seen pictures in the books the Black Eagles bring, but no real concept other than that.

I like to think that Byleth probably finally decides to risk escape when the child asks if he’ll ever get to feel rain. That’s when she tries to make plans at least.

Byleth probably teaches him to wield a sword as best she can in that room, teaching him to swing a little wooden toy sword as best she can. 

The first time the child sees the sky is during the first escape attempt.

Tiny hands clutch their mother’s clothes from beneath a cloak, and small eyes turn up towards the sky to see so much bright that they’re blinded, unused to so much light. It’s big, and blue, larger than they could have ever imagined.

Byleth fights a whole armed guard trying to get out of that city, her child strapped to her back. She’s fiercer than any dragon, more savage than any lion, and more determined to get through those gates than any force of nature they’ve ever faced. It takes dozens and dozens of guards to stop her without harming her or the child, but they do, eventually, because Byleth couldn’t go all out, she couldn’t risk the tiny body on her back.

She failed to escape in the end.

The babe is most certainly taken from her after that, relocated to a nursery and only allowed supervised visits every day. Byleth isn’t even sure if she’s angry or not, because she showed her child the sky, and they get to see it all the time now, the get to see something other than this damn room, and she still see them every day.

Still, ever day she holds them close to her chest, when it’s time for them to leave her, those small hands clutching her clothes and fat tears rolling down their chubby cheeks. All she can to is hold them so close in a warm embrace and whisper promises in their ear that she’ll get out someday, and when she does she’ll come get him, and they can go away and find their father, and the Blue Lions, and then they can all finally live together under the sky.

[unillustratedadventures]

Major Depressive Disorder (per DSM-5)

In DSM-5 (2013; p. 160–8), the American Psychiatric Association defines major depressive disorder as follows. (Since I have covered states of major depression in an earlier post, the following definition will contain only a simplified characterisation of major depressive episodes.)

One has major depressive disorder (MDD) just in case:

one has had a major depressive episode (as defined here), a period of mood-related distress or impairment that lasts at least two weeks, and pervasively involves at least five symptoms that must include persisting negative mood or loss of interest or pleasure (or both), together with some combination of appetite disturbance, sleep disturbance, psychomotor disturbance, fatigue, negative self-appraisal, cognitive-executive disturbance, and suicidal ideation.

This episode is not better explained by a schizophrenia-related or psychotic disorder.

One has never had a manic or hypomanic episode.

Diagnostic Features

For individuals with MDD, insomnia or fatigue are often the presenting complaints; with such presentations, failing to probe for accompanying depressive symptoms will result in underdiagnosis. Fatigue and sleep disturbance are also present in a high proportion of MDD cases. Psychomotor disturbances are much less common, but they are indicative of greater overall severity, as is the presence of delusional or near-delusional guilt.

Major depressive episodes must be accompanied by clinically significant distress or impairment in social, occupational, or other important areas of functioning. For some individuals (with milder depressive episodes), functioning may appear to be normal, but nevertheless requires disproportionate or markedly increased effort.

Per the persisting negative mood symptom, the mood in a major depressive episode is often described by the person as depressed, sad, hopeless, discouraged, or “down in the dumps”. Sadness may be denied at first, but subsequently elicited by interview (e.g. by pointing out that the individual looks as if he or she is about to cry) or inferred from facial expression and demeanour.

Moreover, in some anhedonic individuals who complain of feeling apathetic or having no feelings, and in some individuals who mainly present with anxiety, the presence of a negative mood also may be inferred from facial expression and demeanour.

Some individuals emphasise somatic complaints (e.g. bodily aches and pains) rather than reporting feelings of sadness (clinicians should determine whether the distress from such complaints is associated with specific depressive symptoms).

Many individuals with MDD report or exhibit increased irritability (e.g. persistent anger, a tendency to respond to events with angry outbursts or blaming others, or an exaggerated sense of frustration over minor matters). In depressed children and adolescents, an irritable or cranky mood may develop instead of a noticeably sad or dejected mood. Such a presentation of MDD should be differentiated from merely having a pattern of irritability in response to frustration.

Loss of interest or pleasure is nearly always present in a major depressive episode, at least to some degree. Individuals may report feeling less interested in hobbies, “not caring anymore,” or not feeling any enjoyment in activities that were previously considered pleasurable. Family members often notice social withdrawal or neglect of pleasurable avocations (e.g. a formerly avid golfer no longer plays, a child who used to enjoy soccer finds excuses not to practise). In some individuals, there is a significant reduction from previous levels of sexual interest or desire.

Appetite disturbance may consist in either a reduction or an increase. Some depressed individuals report that they have to force themselves to eat. Others may eat more and may crave specific foods (e.g. sweets or other carbohydrates). When appetite changes are severe (in either direction), there may be a significant loss or gain in weight—or, in children, a failure to make expected weight gains may be noted.

Sleep disturbance may take the form of either difficulty sleeping (insomnia) or sleeping excessively (hypersomnia). When insomnia is present, it typically takes the form of so-called middle insomnia (i.e. waking up during the night and then having difficulty returning to sleep) or terminal insomnia (i.e. waking too early and being unable to return to sleep). Although these forms of insomnia are most common, initial insomnia (i.e. difficulty falling asleep) may also occur. Individuals who present with hypersomnia may experience prolonged sleep episodes at night or increased daytime sleep. Sometimes, disturbed sleep is the reason that the individual seeks treatment.

Psychomotor disturbance potentially includes psychomotor agitation (e.g. the inability to sit still, pacing, hand-wringing; or pulling or rubbing of the skin, clothing, or other objects) or psychomotor retardation (e.g. slowed speech, thinking, and body movements; increased pauses before answering; speech that is decreased in volume, inflection, amount, or variety of content, or muteness). The psychomotor agitation or retardation must be severe enough to be observable by others and not represent merely subjective feelings of restlessness or sluggishness.

Fatigue, decreased energy, and tiredness are also common. A person may report sustained fatigue without any physical exertion. Even the smallest tasks may seem to require substantial effort. The efficiency with which tasks are accomplished may be reduced. For example, an individual may complain that washing and dressing in the morning are exhausting and take twice as long as usual.

Excessive negative self-appraisal tends to be involved in major depression. The sense of worthlessness or guilt associated with a major depressive episode may include unrealistic negative evaluations of one’s worth, or guilty preoccupations or ruminations over relatively minor past failings. Such individuals often misinterpret neutral or trivial day-to-day events as evidence of personal defects, and have an exaggerated sense of responsibility for untoward events.

In major depression, the felt sense of worthlessness or guilt may be of delusional proportions (e.g. an individual who is convinced that he or she is personally responsible for world poverty). Indeed, among major depressive episodes that have psychotic features, such delusions related to negative self-appraisal are the most common psychotic feature. For obvious reasons, such delusions are considered to be mood-congruent in the course of a major depressive episode, as opposed to mood-incongruent. (Interestingly, grandiose delusions are probably the most common psychotic feature of manic episodes, which suggests that self-appraisal delusions are the most common psychotic feature of disturbed moods in general, tending to be negative in the depressive case and positive in the manic case.)

Blaming oneself for being sick, and blaming one’s self for failing to meet occupational or interpersonal responsibilities due to illness (in this case, major depression), are both very common; unless such instances of self-blame reach the level of delusion, they are not considered to be sufficient for the negative self-appraisal symptom.

Many individuals report cognitive-executive disturbance, in the form of an impaired ability to think, concentrate, or make even minor decisions. Individuals with this symptom also may appear easily distracted, or complain of memory difficulties. Individuals engaged in cognitively demanding pursuits are often unable to function in those pursuits. In children, a precipitous drop in grades may reflect a depressive impairment of concentration. In elderly individuals, memory difficulties may be the chief complaint, and may be mistaken for early signs of a dementia (i.e. “pseudodementia”). In such cases, when the major depressive episode is successfully treated, the memory problems often fully abate. However, in some individuals, particularly elderly persons, a major depressive episode may sometimes be the initial presentation of an irreversible dementia.

Suicidal ideation, thoughts of death, and suicide attempts are common features of major depression. They range from passively wishing not to awaken in the morning, or believing that others would be better off if one were dead, to transient but recurrent thoughts of committing suicide, to having a specific suicide plan. More severely suicidal individuals may have already put their affairs in order (e.g. updated wills, settled debts), acquired needed materials (e.g. a rope or a gun), and chosen a location and time to commit suicide.

Common depressive motivations for suicide include a desire to give up in the face of perceived insurmountable obstacles (felt hopelessness), an intense wish to end what is perceived as an unending and excruciatingly painful emotional state (persistent and intense negative feelings, emotional pain), an inability to foresee any enjoyment in life (anhedonia), or the wish to not be a burden to others (negative self-appraisal). Reducing such motivations in the individual, by improving the associated patterns of thinking, seems to be a more meaningful preventative measure against suicide risk than impeding that individual’s plans for suicide.

The evaluation of the symptoms of a major depressive episode is especially difficult when they occur in an individual who also has a general medical condition (e.g. cancer, stroke, myocardial infarction, diabetes, pregnancy). For one thing, some of the criterial signs and symptoms of a major depressive episode are identical to those of general medical conditions (e.g. weight loss with untreated diabetes; fatigue with cancer; hypersomnia early in pregnancy; insomnia later in pregnancy or the postpartum). Such symptoms do count towards a major depressive diagnosis, but not when they are clearly and fully attributable to a general medical condition. In cases involving a general medical condition, particular care should be taken to assess the presence of guilt or felt worthlessness, impaired concentration or indecision, suicidal thoughts, or non-vegetative symptoms of dysphoria or anhedonia. Such symptoms are particularly central to major depression (redefinitions of major depression that include only these symptoms appear to identify nearly the same individuals as do the full criteria).

Associated Features

MDD is associated with high mortality, much of which is accounted for by suicide; however, suicide is not the only associated cause. For example, depressed individuals admitted to nursing homes have a markedly increased likelihood of death in the first year.

Depressed individuals frequently present with tearfulness, irritability, brooding, obsessive rumination, anxiety, phobias, excessive worry over physical health, and complaints of broadly somatic pain (e.g. headache, joint, abdominal, or other pains). In depressed children, separation anxiety may be more likely to occur.

Although an extensive literature exists describing neuroanatomical, neuroendocrinological, and neurophysiological correlates of MDD, no laboratory test has yielded results of sufficient sensitivity and specificity to be used as a diagnostic tool for MDD.

Until recently, hypothalamic-pituitary-adrenal (HPA) axis hyperactivity had been the most extensively investigated abnormality associated with major depressive episodes. HPA hyperactivity does appear to be associated specifically with melancholic features, psychotic features, and an increased risk for eventual suicide.

Neuro-molecular studies have implicated certain peripheral factors, including genetic variants in factors that regulate neuronal generation (i.e. neurotrophic factors) and cytokines that promote neurological inflammation. Additionally, functional magnetic resonance imaging has provided evidence for functional abnormalities in specific neural systems that support emotion processing, reward seeking, and emotion regulation.

Prevalence

Twelve-month overall prevalence of MDD in the United States is approximately 7%.

There are marked differences by age group, such that the prevalence in 18- to 29-year-old individuals is threefold higher than the prevalence in individuals age 60 years or older.

From early adolescence onwards, females have a 1.5- to 3-fold higher rate of MDD than males.

Development and Course

The first major depressive episode (marking the onset of MDD) may occur at any age, but the likelihood of onset increases markedly at and after puberty. In the United States, incidence appears to peak in the 20s; however, first onsets in late life are not uncommon.

The course of MDD is quite variable; some individuals rarely if ever experience remission (a period of 2 or more months without depressive symptoms, or with only one or two symptoms of mild degree), while others experience many years with few or no symptoms between discrete episodes.

Clinically, it is important to distinguish individuals who present for treatment during an exacerbation of a chronic depressive illness from those whose symptoms have developed only recently. Chronicity and pervasiveness of depressive symptoms substantially increase the likelihood of having underlying personality, anxiety, and substance use disorders, and decrease the likelihood that depressive symptoms will be fully resolved by and after treatment. It is therefore useful to ask individuals presenting with depressive symptoms to identify the last period of at least 2 months during which they were entirely free of depressive symptoms.

For four in five individuals with MDD, recovery begins within 1 year of onset; for two of those four individuals, recovery begins within 3 months of onset.

Recency of onset is a strong determinant of the likelihood of near-term recovery, and many individuals who have been depressed only for several months can be expected to recover spontaneously. Other than the duration of the current depressive episode, features associated with lower recovery rates include psychotic features, prominent anxiety, personality disorders, and symptom severity.

While longer periods of depressive symptoms decrease the likelihood of recovery, longer periods of remission also decrease the likelihood of a major depressive episode. The risk of recurrence becomes progessively lower over time as the duration of remission increases.

The risk of recurrence is higher in individuals whose preceding episode was severe, younger individuals, and individuals who have already experienced multiple episodes.

Failure to fully return to euthymic baseline after a major depressive episode—i.e. the persistence of even mild depressive symptoms during remission—is a powerful predictor of recurrence.

Many bipolar illnesses begin with one or more depressive episodes, and a substantial proportion of individuals who initially appear to have MDD will prove, in time, to instead have a bipolar disorder. This is more likely in individuals with onset of the illness in adolescence, those whose depression involves psychotic features, and those with a family history of bipolar illness. Depressive episodes with mixed features (i.e. episodes accompanied by some features of mania/hypomania) also increase the risk of having a future manic or hypomanic episode (and a corresponding bipolar diagnosis).

MDD, particularly if it involves depression with psychotic features, may transition into schizophrenia. Such a change in diagnostic symptoms is much more frequent than the reverse (i.e. it is more frequent that initially meeting the criteria for schizophrenia, then continuing to have major depressive episodes but never again having symptoms that would meet the full criteria for schizophrenia).

Despite consistent differences between genders in the prevalence rates for depressive disorders (with higher prevalence for females), there appear to be no clear differences by gender in MDD’s phenomenology, course, or treatment response.

Similarly, there are no clear effects of current age on the course or treatment response of MDD. Some symptom differences exist, though, such that hypersomnia and hyperphagia (over-eating) are more likely in younger individuals, and melancholic symptoms, particularly psychomotor retardation, are more common in older individuals. The likelihood of suicide attempts lessens in middle and late life, although the risk of completed suicide does not.

Cases of MDD that have earlier ages of onset are more likely to be familial, and more likely to involve personality disturbances.

The course of MDD does not generally change with aging. Mean times to recovery appear to be stable over long periods, and the likelihood of being in a major depressive episode does not generally increase or decrease with time.

Risk and Prognostic Factors

Temperamental

Higher trait neuroticism (negative affectivity) is a well-established risk factor for the onset of MDD, and high levels appear to render individuals more likely to develop depressive episodes in response to stressful life events.

Environmental

Adverse childhood experiences, particularly when there are multiple experiences of diverse types, constitute a set of potent risk factors for MDD.

Stressful life events are well recognised as precipitants of major depressive episodes, but the presence or absence of adverse life events near the onset of episodes does not appear to provide a useful guide to prognosis or treatment selection.

Genetic and physiological

First-degree family members of individuals with MDD have a risk for MDD that is two- to four-fold higher than that of the general population. The risk to family members appears to be higher for individuals that have early-onset and recurrent forms of MDD.

The heritability of MDD is approximately 40%, and the heritability of the personality trait neuroticism accounts for a substantial portion of this genetic liability.

Course modifiers

Essentially, all major non-mood disorders increase the risk of an individual developing symptoms of major depression.

Major depressive episodes that develop against the background of another disorder often follow a more refractory course. Substance use, anxiety, and borderline personality disorders are among the most common of these comorbid disorders, and the detection of such disorders may be obscured or delayed by presenting depressive symptoms. Nevertheless, in such cases, sustained clinical improvement in the depressive symptoms may depend on the appropriate treatment of the underlying mental illnesses.

Chronic or disabling medical conditions also increase risks for major depressive episodes. Such prevalent illnesses as diabetes, morbid obesity, and cardiovascular disease are often complicated by depressive episodes, and such episodes are more likely to become chronic than are depressive episodes in medically healthy individuals.

Culture-Related Diagnostic Issues

Surveys of MDD across diverse cultures have shown seven-fold differences in prevalence, but much more consistency in the female-to-male ratio, mean ages at onset, and the degree to which the presence of the disorder raises the likelihood of comorbid substance abuse.

While these findings suggest substantial cultural differences in the expression of MDD, they do not permit simple linkages between particular cultures and the likelihood of specific symptoms. Instead, clinicians should be aware that in most countries the majority of cases of depression go unrecognised in primary care settings, and that in many cultures somatic symptoms are much more likely to constitute the presenting complaint.

Among the possible symptoms of major depression, insomnia and loss of energy are the most uniformly reported across cultures.

Gender-Related Diagnostic Issues

The most reproducible finding in the epidemiology of MDD has been a higher prevalence in females. Despite this, there are no clear differences between genders in overall symptoms, course, treatment response, or functional consequences.

In women with depressive disorders, as compared to men with depressive disorders, the risk for suicide attempts is higher while the risk for suicide completion is lower. But these gendered disparities in suicide risk are actually independent of major depression. In fact, while depressive disorders generally increase the risks of suicide attempt and completion (for both genders), they decrease the gendered disparity in these risks. In other words, although women are more likely to attempt suicide and men are more likely to complete suicide among individuals that have depressive disorders, this difference between the genders is ever larger in the general population.

Suicide Risk

The possibility of suicidal behavior exists at all times during major depressive episodes. The most consistently described risk factor is a past history of suicide attempts or threats, but it should be remembered that most completed suicides are not preceded by unsuccessful attempts.

Overall, features associated with an increased risk for completed suicide are:

previous suicide attempts or threats

being male

being single or living alone

having prominent feelings of hopelessness.

The risk of future suicide attempts is markedly increased when there is comorbid borderline personality disorder.

Functional Consequences of MDD

Many of the functional consequences of MDD derive from the individual symptoms. Impairment can be very mild, such that many of those who interact with the affected individual are unaware of the depressive symptoms. Impairment may, however, range to complete incapacity—such that the depressed individual is unable to attend to basic self-care needs, or is mute or catatonic. Among individuals seen in general medical settings, those with MDD have more pain and physical illness, and greater decreases in physical, social, and role functioning.

Differential Diagnosis

Irritable manic episodes, mixed mood episodes

Major depressive episodes with prominent irritable mood may be difficult to distinguish from manic episodes with irritable mood, or from mixed depressive/manic episodes. This distinction requires a careful clinical evaluation of the presence of manic symptoms.

Substance/medication-induced depressive or bipolar disorder

These disorders are distinguished from MDD by the fact that their mood disturbances are directly related etiologically to a substance (e.g. a drug of abuse, a medication, or a toxin) For example, depressed mood that occurs only in the context of withdrawal from cocaine would be diagnosed as cocaine-induced depressive disorder rather than MDD.

Attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD)

There is some overlap in symptoms between MDD and ADHD. In particular, distractibility and low frustration tolerance are common in both ADHD and major depressive episodes. Nevertheless, if an individual meets the criteria for both MDD and ADHD, then both disorders should be diagnosed.

Relatedly, when children with ADHD present with mood disturbances characterised by irritability (rather than by sadness or loss of interest/pleasure), care must be taken not to diagnose MDD solely on the basis of such disturbances (the excessive irritability in such children may be best explained in terms of ADHD alone, in the absence of MDD).

Adjustment disorder with depressed mood

When major depressive symptoms occur in response to a psychosocial stressor, MDD is distinguished from adjustment disorder with depressed mood by the fact that in the latter disorder, full criteria for a major depressive episode are not met.

Normal Sadness

Finally, it should be noted that periods of sadness are inherent aspects of the human experience. Such periods should not be diagnosed as major depressive episodes unless criteria are met for sufficient severity (i.e. the period of sadness pervasively includes five out of the nine possible symptoms of major depression), sufficient duration (i.e. the symptoms are present most of the day, nearly every day, for at least 2 weeks), and clinically significant distress or impairment. A diagnosis of other specified depressive disorder may be appropriate for presentations of major depressive symptoms that cause clinically significant impairment but do not meet criteria for sufficient severity and duration.

Comorbidity

Other disorders with which MDD frequently co-occurs are substance-related disorders, panic disorder, obsessive-compulsive disorder, anorexia nervosa, bulimia nervosa, and borderline personality disorder.

[septic-skele]

US - Heed The Signs (Part 4)

[Part 3]

A/N: Don't mind me projecting my own feelings about my chronic illness onto poor Pap. It's just nice having a character to relate to ^^"

Why did I lie to him? Why did I say I wanted to walk? Are we there yet? How much longer? This is taking forever…I’m so tired. Everything hurts, I just want to stop.

Lying was wrong. That was what his brother always told him and by the looks of it Papyrus’ body agreed; it was doing everything within its power to punish him.

True to Blue’s advice, his bath had been chilling but even with his clothes half-dry he was still shivering. The worse twitches sent crackly jolts of pain through his joints, akin to insect stings, and when he clenched his teeth to stop their clattering his head pounded dreadfully.

My skull’s a knock-knock door now, he mused dazedly, though it wasn’t as funny without a joke to tell. He couldn’t think of a good one for the life of him.

Sick. Sick who? Sick me. But don’t tell Blue.

He just wanted Blue to be happy. His brother had seemed sincere enough when he offered him the chance to stay but what if Papyrus had taken it and Blue had gotten mad at him? When he was honest about his fears and the idea of being left behind, that had upset him enough; the last thing he wanted was to disappoint him again.

If he disappointed him again, Blue might actually do it. Wasn’t that an awful thought?

“I will never, ever leave you behind. No matter how tired you are, no matter how slow, I will always be there to help and protect you.”

Those words should comfort him; they had at the time but now, through the slogging fog in his mind, they sounded so far away.

What Blue didn’t know when he made that promise—what he still didn’t seem to fully understand—was that Papyrus was always tired. In his soul he knew it wasn’t the “normal” tired. It wasn’t normal to sleep and sleep and sleep and still feel so drowsy, like he had never gone down. It wasn’t normal for his vision to go black and his legs to buckle just because he stood up too fast. It wasn’t normal to feel this weight dragging on him, like he was constantly trying to wade through a mudslide. Was that what it would be like at their new home, with all the snow in their way? The very thought of it stirred anxiety.

Something was wrong with him and nothing was wrong with Blue. His big bro was so cool, running and jumping and climbing and lifting heavy things. All the while he barely gasped for breath. How did he do it?

Jealousy was wrong too. Papyrus hated the sore, mean longing caged in each of his tender bones. He always insisted that he would never hope for bad things for his brother…but in a corner of his mind that would probably never come to light, he wished Sans could know how he felt, even if it was only one day. What if Papyrus was like this forever? He could never live up to Blue’s example, no matter how hard he tried. He could never be that good.

Yet again his nose and eye sockets stung with telltale moisture but perhaps he didn’t have enough magic left over to form real tears, given how much effort the rest of his body was putting forth.

Blue was right when he said he would run out of tears if he kept it up. Of course, Blue was always right. I’m such a baby bones.

How far had they walked by now? Lost in thought and misery, Papyrus couldn’t be sure. Over time Waterfall started to blur together whether one was paying close attention or not. All he knew for sure was that his feet throbbed for mercy and he had a stitch pulling in his ribs that made it harder to breathe with every step…so that must mean they were making progress, right?

Blue had been babbling on for a while, filling the silence, but only now did Papyrus register what he was saying. “Gosh, I’m starving! We didn’t have any dinner or breakfast, huh? Are you hungry, Papy?”

Strangely he wasn’t. His nonexistent stomach panged with discomfort, yes, but not in the raw, empty way. All he mustered was a shrug. Blue hesitated, eyes flicking uncertainly over him, but after a long moment he tried for a smile regardless.

“I’m sure there’s something around here we could munch on for a while. Umm…” As he turned to examine the area, he no doubt saw the same things Papyrus had: grass, water, flowers, and crystals in every direction. To Papyrus’ surprise, however, he lit up. “Hey, those could be pretty tasty!”

“Hmm?”

“Well, they’re called water sausages, aren’t they? Sausages are edible so if these go by the same name, they must be too!” With no further ado he snatched at the nearest group of new shoots, waving them wildly to rid them of droplets and pollen. Papyrus coughed, belatedly trying to muffle it in his sleeve as the cloud clogged the air and made his head spin.

Even the trash they had scavenged a couple of nights ago had been a little more appealing than muddy uprooted stalks. With some nausea he remembered the wet, mushy crab apple and the cracked bottle of fluid that was…hopefully sea tea. Both had been bitter and acidic, rather difficult to swallow.

When he noticed his distaste, Blue didn’t hesitate to share his lucky find of a gloopy, half-smashed Nice Cream, insisting that it was too big to finish on his own. He was so cool. That sweeter flavor was long gone now; Papyrus could still taste the metallic tang from the upheaval earlier, lingering in the back of his throat.

No, he was definitely not hungry. Cradling his arms close to his chest, trying to get the tremors under better control, he coughed twice, thrice more and hung his head. Tuning Blue out as he peeled and crunched thoughtfully on the weeds, the younger focused instead on savoring the break from walking.

If he sat down he had a sneaking suspicion that he would forget he had to get up again. Now that they weren’t moving, he became fully aware of how moist and heavy the air felt as it crawled over him. There was no breeze this way. Why was he still shivering and swaying, as if a supposed wind might knock him over? Was that sweat, too, slithering down his back? That didn’t sound right. What was hot and what was cold?

Tired, tired, tired…

“Papyrus?”

Blue’s hands on him made him startle but it was too much effort to reel back upright. Murmuring something that might not have been made of real words, he let himself wilt and trusted that Blue would catch him. He did, though he didn’t give him an opportunity to go entirely boneless. Hurriedly wrangling and propping loose limbs out of his way, Blue cupped his cheekbone.

“How are you still—? Never mind. I—I don’t think this is good for you, Papy, going hungry. You need something to keep your strength up!”

“Throat h’rts,” he mumbled, flinching away when he felt Blue nudge the end of the water sausage against his teeth. “Head h’rts.”

“Please, just a bite or two, alright? There’s only a little left and that’ll leave my hands free! I’ll be able to carry you.”

That deal didn’t sound half bad. Though his jaw ached from gritting for so long, he pried it open just enough that he could be fed. The stalk didn’t smell awful but it failed to belie the true sour taste. Suppressing a whine, he barely chewed before choking it down and absorbing Blue’s patting and praise.

It was more like six or seven bites before the stalk ended, the seventh going to waste as Papyrus coughed too roughly to swallow it. Nevertheless Blue kept his word, scooping him off his feet with surprising gentleness. Since Blue wouldn’t be running, all Papyrus could do was hope that this easier pace wouldn’t jar him into vomiting again. He fell asleep within the first thirty steps.

___________________________________

Thick black fluid bubbled up from cracks in the ground, taking shape. Sticky, spindly hands were grabbing at him, their touch burning, their grasp so tight that his bones started to crack on contact.

Sobbing and spitting, he thrashed to be free, phalanges snapping off his feet to be engulfed instantly. Somehow he ran—or swam—or was he drowning already?

The waves of blackness were overrunning the world. Trees and buildings and people were melting around him in every direction. As the hands gained purchase, they scaled the far walls. They would bring the mountain down on top of them!

“Sans, help me!”

He stood several yards ahead, motionless, with empty, gaping eye sockets—yet still he smiled, the blackness seeping between his bared teeth. Purring ominously in a language Papyrus knew he’d forgotten, he opened his stretched, warped arms for an embrace.

There was a voice somewhere beyond the pounding and crackling in his skull.

“—rus! Brother, it’s alright! You’re going to be alright. It’s over now…We’ve made it!” Familiar. Soothing, relief and hope.

When he broke the surface of his dream, he was only given a second’s glimpse to register—shapes, white, hurt, too hot, too much—before his eyelights rolled back in his head. Back arching, limbs flailing and locking wildly, he was hurled by momentum out of Blue’s arms into the snow.

[vavuska]

AUGUST 9, 2020

Body positivity and false myths about health.

Introduction

Today, the revered ideal body consists of a tall, slender physique known as the thin-ideal. This idealized image that has been constructed by the media via magazines, movies and advertising campaigns is having adverse effects on the lives of many women, such that more than half of the women are troubled by certain aspects of their appearance and are not accepting of their bodies as a whole. The preoccupation or obsession with their physical appearance has trapped Western women into subscribing to unhealthy narratives such as "I must be thin to be accepted and loved", "A thin body will make me happy", "Dieting will help me lose weight" or "Thinness equals beauty". These nagging voices often overrun women's lives and are linked to various psychological disturbances such as depression, eating disorders, anxieties, countless addictions, BDD, as well as low self-esteem (Rieves & Cash, 1996), relationship difficulties, and sexual dysfunctions (Dworkin & Kerr, 1987).

In addition to noting that people with perceived obesity (again, not medically diagnosed, just perceived) will experience microaggression, bullying, discrimination in housing, employment, education, and healthcare, Phelan notes that their interactions with healthcare professionals is directly affected by size bias.

In these studies by the Mayo Clinic, primary care physicians reported spending less time with obese patients, less communication, and open belief in stereotypes: this patient is lazy, undisciplined, and less likely to adhere to medical advice.

These negative interactions statistically raise a patient’s chances to: delay cancer screenings and routine care, avoid routine check ups, and are more likely to have unreported diagnostic errors.

This isn’t healthy. This isn’t saving or changing any lives. This is having the opposite effect, and it is happening precisely in the places where we are suppose to be receiving “help.”

What is body positivity?

Body Positivity is a social movement rooted in the belief that all human beings should have a positive body image, in doing so it challenges the ways in which society presents and views the physical body. The movement advocates the acceptance of all bodies no matter the form, size, or appearance.

I personally like the 4 Principles of Body Positivity conceptualized by Body Positivity Activist:

ACCEPTANCE OF WHAT IS: Our bodies as is (healthy, sick, skinny, fat, missing a leg, cancer survivors, and black, white, purple, blue and everything else,) deserve respect, visibility, acceptance and have intrinsic value.

REJECTION OF “BEAUTY” STANDARDS: Body-shaming of all types has been shown to yield detrimental long-term psychological effects such as negative body image, depression, anxiety, and a multitude of eating disorders. It serves no benefits, so we reject it entirely.

ACCEPTANCE OF CHANGE: Changes to our bodies—sickness, ailments, aging, pregnancy, surgery, accidents/trauma, putting on weight, losing weight, ALL of it—should be accepted, and should not diminish the value, respect, visibility of our bodies.

TOTAL INCLUSIVITY: Body positivity is inclusive of all bodies, not just those considered to be “fat” or obese,considering most humans are socialized to have negative perceptions of their bodies.

In short, body positivity and its principles are about acceptance, inclusivity, and respect. First aspect to notice: these are all social ideas, not medical ones. Why naysayers of body positivity consistently bring up the promotion of obesity when fat bodies are displayed is a mystery to me.

The second aspect of its definition one must notice: body positivity does not “promote” any body type. It is simply stating that all body types have intrinsic value. We certainly agree with this as a society. If you intentionally hurt someone’s body--again, regardless of the look, age, or state of that body--we consider that a crime. Body positivity simply concurs with this logic.

Lastly, body positivity by definition does not purport that evolution, change, and/or a healthy lifestyle is unacceptable. You can be body positive and be healthy. In fact, body positivity promotes taking care of yourself.

1 - “Your weight is entirely within your control, you are just being lazy”

As a random guy wrote on Facebook: “Body positivity is appreciating things that are beyond your control, like the colour of your eyes, skin colour, hair texture, height, etc. Weight is entirely within your control...if you eat a lot, you will get fat. Body positivity enables gluttony which is a slap to the face for underprivileged people everywhere in the world.”

That's not entirely true: gaing wight could be caused by hormones (pregnancy, menopause, ecc), genetics (for e.g. Peter Will syndrome) other medical condition linked to endocrines such as Cushing's syndrome or a malfunction of thyroid (hypothyroidism).

The involvement of genetic factors in the development of obesity is estimated to be 40–70%. Some of these obesogenic or leptogenic genes may influence obese individuals response to weight loss or weight management.

To date, more than 400 different genes have been implicated in the causes of overweight or obesity, although only a handful appear to be major players. Genes contribute to the causes of obesity in many ways, by affecting appetite, satiety (the sense of fullness), metabolism, food cravings, body-fat distribution, and the tendency to use eating as a way to cope with stress.

The strength of the genetic influence on weight disorders varies quite a bit from person to person. Research suggests that for some people, genes account for just 25% of the predisposition to be overweight, while for others the genetic influence is as high as 70% to 80%.

Obesity or overweight is not concerned about gluttony. It could depend on a lot of factors: physical and psychological. It is proved that people with depression or anxiety may experience weight gain or weight loss due to their condition or the medications that treat them. Depression and anxiety can both be associated with overeating, poor food choices, and a more sedentary lifestyle. Over time, weight gain may eventually lead to obesity.

Body positivity is about being conformable in our skins. Appreciating what we are and what we have. Body positivity does not promote any form of body, differently of what our media do.

2 — “You cold loose some weight, if you put in some dedication”

This one deleted the previous comment in which he used abused, starving people in Auschwitz to promote a diet, but I have his second one: “I meant that the problem with losing weight is just calories you eat vs calories you burn, of course the amount of calories you burn depend on hormones and a lot of other things. However, everyone can burn more calories by exercising. The Auschwitz prisoners were just an example that it is possible to lose weight, no matter the circumstances, if you REALLY put your mind to it. How you go about increasing the gap between the calories you consume and the ones you burn is up to you. Also, long term, even a 100kcal deficit per day can help you lose weight. You dont have to starve yourself to lose weight.”

Loosing weight is not always a good thing and it is not as easy like those people think.

Muscle does weigh more than fat because it is a denser product. On average, the density of fat is 0.9g/ml. The density of muscle is 1.1 g/ml. Using the averages, 1 liter of muscle weights 1.06 kg or 2.3 lbs., while 1 liter of fat weights .9 kg, or 1.98 lbs. An easier way to think of it might be: if you have an equal volumn of fat and muscle, fat is going to weigh about 80% of what the muscle weighs. This can vary due to numerous factors including race, being extremely lean or being extremely obese according to “Exercise Physiology” by William D. McArdle, et al.

The ‘take away’ points are:

Yes, muscle weighs more than fat. But….. do not assume because you started working out and you are not losing weight it is because you are increasing muscle.

The higher percent muscle you have on your body the smaller your clothing size because muscle takes up less space than fat.

On the other hand, if you are loosing weight, don't presume you are necessarly loosing fat, you could also lost muscles and this is not a good thing.

For that guy, don't eat is the solution to every weight problem. This leads to a thing called anorexia (which is one of the most painful consequences of the idealization of a “perfect body shape” myth portrayed by media). And, again, this guy really thinks that abused starving people are a good example to promote a diet. He seems to doesn't know how work human body and that if you don't eat as much to sustain your body, you will begin to feel always tired, weak and such because your body doesn't have enaugh energy to consume. We will see this in the next point.

3 — “You better have a diet”

I use the word "diet" in this context to refer to any set of restrictive food rules (barring true medical and ethical concerns). If you are feeling guilt and shame about your food choices, it is likely that you are approaching the experience of eating from a "diet mentality."

The word "diet" often has a negative connotation, so many people prefer to say they are making a “lifestyle change.” But if your lifestyle change entails rigid food rules that invoke guilt when broken, you are probably on a diet, even if in disguise. And the truth is, the diet industry wants us to "fail" so that we will continue to purchase their products. When you jump on the latest fad bandwagon, you support a multi-billion dollar industry that profits by convincing us we are inherently flawed.

Diets do not help you maintain weight loss long-term. The idea that people fail at diets because of a lack of willpower is a myth perpetuated by the diet industry. Powerful biological factors essentially ensure that your attempt at dieting will fail. Researcher Traci Mann, who has studied dieting for more than 20 years, found that there are metabolic, hormonal, and neurological changes that contribute to "diet failure."

According to Mann, "When you are dieting, you actually become more likely to notice food. . . But you don't just notice it—it actually begins to look more appetizing and tempting." Mann also stated that as you begin to lose weight, "the hormones that make you feel hungry increase" and "the hormones that help you feel full, or the level of those rather, decreases."

For the average adult in a resting state, the brain consumes about 20 percent of the body’s energy. The brain’s primary function — processing and transmitting information through electrical signals — is very, very expensive in terms of energy use.

The exact percentages are difficult to ascertain, but we have pretty good estimates of where that energy is going, though it varies by the area of the brain. In the cerebral cortex of mice, about a quarter of the brain’s energy goes to maintaining the neurons and glial cells themselves — the processes that all cells go through to remain alive. The remaining 75 percent is used for signaling — sending and processing electrical signals across the brain’s circuits. These numbers seem to be very similar in humans.

The brain is an energy-hungry organ. Despite comprising only 2 percent of the body’s weight, the brain gobbles up more than 20 percent of daily energy intake. Because the brain demands such high amounts of energy, the foods we consume greatly affect brain function, including everything from learning and memory to emotions.

Just like other cells in the body, brain cells use a form of sugar called glucose to fuel cellular activities. This energy comes from the foods we consume daily and is regularly delivered to brain cells (called neurons) through the blood.

As Mann explains, when you diet, "Your metabolism slows down. Your body uses calories in the most efficient way possible... When your body finds a way to run itself on fewer calories there tends to be more left over, and those get stored as fat."

Thus, it is no surprise that studies show that 95 percent of people will "fail" at diets. Most people can lose weight in the short-term; however, over time the majority will regain the weight they lost—and potentially gain even more. Working to suppress your weight below your natural body weight is ultimately a fruitless effort—in fact, it's an utter waste of time.

4 — “Being overweight or obese means being unhealthy”

Studies have found that anywhere from one-third to three-quarters of people classified as obese are metabolically healthy. They show no signs of elevated blood pressure, insulin resistance or high cholesterol. Meanwhile, about a quarter of non-overweight people are what epidemiologists call “the lean unhealthy.” A 2016 study that followed participants for an average of 19 years found that unfit skinny people were twice as likely to get diabetes as fit fat people. Habits, no matter your size, are what really matter. Dozens of indicators, from vegetable consumption to regular exercise to grip strength, provide a better snapshot of someone’s health than looking at them from across a room.

According to an article in The Nutrition Journal by Dr. Linda Bacon and Lucy Aphramor, "Most epidemiological studies find that people who are overweight or moderately obese live at least as long as normal weight people, and often longer."

So, you can be under or normal weight, but that's doesn't make necessarly much more healthy than a overweight people. You can't say that a person is not "healthy" by judging on their physical appearance.

Some feminist points of view

Now, aks yourselves why so many cisgender etherosexual men are so upset from seeing plus size models in media? Do they really care about stranger's women heath?

NOPE!

Oh. Maybe is because they are the ones who lose something in seeing women considered not attractive for their physical appearance being accepted and admired?

YES.

Female beauty standard in media are designed for heterosexual male consumption.

As women gain economic and political power, their beauty should matter less.

Feminist scholars have contended that cultural norms and expectations encourage girls and women to be attentive to and psychologically invested in their physical appearance, which can undermine their well-being and contribute to eating dysregulation, depression, and other psychological difficulties (Cash, Ancis, & Strachan, 1997). Mary Wollstonecraft (1792), who is considered to be the founder of feminism, asserted that women's preoccupation with appearance was due to impoverished education, domestic subjugation, and vain pursuits toward which women were directed by their culture. The feminist perspective reaffirms the declaration that a woman's self-worth, ability, and livelihood are not centred on her physical appearance.

Wayne Dyer (1976/1995) elaborated on this: “many women have accepted the cultural dispatches and behave in ways that they are supposed to when it comes to their bodies. Shave your legs and underarms, deodorize yourself everywhere, perfume your body with foreign odours, sterilize your mouth, make up your eyes, lips, cheeks, pad your bra, spray your genitals with the appropriate bouquet, and falsify your fingernails. The implication is that there is something unpleasant about the natural you, the essentially human you, and only by becoming artificial can you become attractive.”

Peterson et al. (2008) posit that feelings of powerlessness may lead a woman to rely on external evaluations of her body as well as to control her eating behaviours. In contrast, feelings of empowerment may decrease the likelihood that a woman will internalize society's messages regarding attractiveness and hence develop schemas that highlight the importance of appearance. Overall, what is suggested is that feeling empowered in one's life may translate to reduced self-objectification and, in turn, to a decrease in negative evaluations of body image.

As this gross guy said:

“Those women aren't thin they look healthy, your problem with them is that their not grossly obese, I've got news for you, most men don't find grossly obese women attractive. Women decide what they want to look like and that happens to be appealing to men, the media has nothing to do with it, women have been beautifying themselves in order to attract men for millennia.”

Young-Eisendrath (1999) elaborates on the psychological damage done by this: “the belief that we must be thin in order to be successful results in feelings of insecurity about ourselves and our abilities. Obsessive control of the female body leads not to power but to shame, self-consciousness, confusion, illness, even death by eating disorders. Longing to be reassured of our worth and validity, we submit to humiliating advice from experts who tell us what and when to eat, and how to exercise, as if we were children.”

In summary, the obsession with physical appearance often distorts reality, making individuals vulnerable to a host of psychological difficulties, including depression and anxiety, and even abuse (Hooks, 1995). Seeking the ideal body type, which is thinner genetically than 95% of women, is also harmful, as the anxiety it creates about weight is focused upon unnatural thinness rather than health (Williams, 1998).

Body positivity protects women from negative feelings about their bodies: women are encouraged to refute the message of the importance of thinness and develop more empowering self-definitions based on other attributes such as their intelligence or creativity. Feminist ideology thus emphasizes that a woman's self-worth should not be determined by her physical appearance.

This male obsession about our weight, saying that we are not "healthy", is just another way to cotrol our bodies, girls!

Lisa Turner, a food writer and nutrition consultant, summed it up best: “Losing weight is not your life's work, and counting calories is not the call of your soul. You surely are destined for something much greater, much bigger, than shedding 20 pounds or tallying calories. What would happen if, instead of worrying about what you had for breakfast, you focused instead on becoming exquisitely comfortable with who you are as a person?”

Some final conclusions

So telling to every people "you are fat, lazy, ugly and need to exercise for your own health" is not only harmful but not even ever correct for all the reason above.

The person you are insulting online could be “overweight” because has a condition, is highly depressed for past suffering experience (I know girls with past of sexual abuse who used to eat to find comfort for a pain that her cannot express in other ways). Or maybe not. To make it easier for you to understand, you must stop to judge people we don't know on their physical appearance, body shape or weight and we must try to be polite, so you will not get yourselves into embarrassing situations saying stupid things like "oh, sorry... I didn't know you had this thing...", after giving unrequested health suggestion to strangers or insulting them?

Have you ever consider how harm can do on others your “caring about strangers” health? What YOU are doing is causing eating disorders and low self-esteem on others. Body positivity helps to accept ourselves and not to spend our time into stupid considerations about our bodies.

THAT'S WHY WE NEED BODY POSITIVITY!

A little list to summarize:

Don't give unrequested health suggestion: they don't ask and you are not their doctor;

Every person need to be accepted and respected as they are;

Obesity bias adversely affects a person’s likelihood to get help;

Your body works better when you thinking happy thoughts about yourself;

Negative body image DOES promote obesity. And anorexia. And a lot of other bad stuff.

[ask-the-jsegos-archived]

You mentioned some shared experience with JJ? What happened (if u dont mind me asking)

Ah yeah, that... Well, it’s a bit personal but I don’t mind sharing! It does involve eating disorders though, so I’ll just keep talking under the cut.

Alrighty. So, this isn't something I talk about often, but I do think it needs to be addressed, for multiple reasons. One reason being the stereotype that only white girls have eating disorders. Neither Jamie nor I are white girls (obviously), and we've dealt with crippling issues along these lines.

Anyway. For context, I'll talk about my original battle first. I've never had a straightforward relationship with food. For me, it's always been too much. When I first started falling into bad habits, I was just starting highschool. I'd been working out for a couple years before, but it just got more and more intense once highschool hit. I could probably make a whole other post on the reasons why I fell into a disorder in the first place, honestly. I started doing less stamina workouts and more fat loss/muscle gain. I started eating just a little bit less every week, just enough so i wouldn't tip off my family. I was losing so much weight, and I felt really good. But it never felt like enough. No matter how much I lost, I was always able to find that one spot that had too much fat, or the one spot that wasn't enough muscle. I was never satisfied with how I looked. Surprisingly, my parents never fully caught on until I'd moved out. They had their suspicions, but never acknowledged them. In any case, I'd moved out, and into an apartment with Marv and Henrik. The two of them had noticed from the beginning, and were constantly trying to make sure I was taking care of myself. Obviously I'd lie, say that I was fine, that I've definitely eaten today. It wasn't until I passed out on a dual patrol with Marv that I realized how little I actually knew about what I was doing to myself. After so many years of doing this to my body, I honest to God thought Henrik was gonna say that I've ruined it. But I hadn't. Not yet. Recovery was a bitch, and it involed many restless hours of not working out, lots of guilt after eating something anywhere close to a normal portion, and so on. Eventually, I was up to a healthy weight. My old superhero suit didn't fit me anymore, so I had to get a new one. I kept the old one though, thinking it would remind me of how far I've come. After around a year of recovering, I'd gone out parkouring near the skate park because I needed to do something. I wasn't allowed to go alone, so Marv had tagged along to make sure I didn't fall back into old behaviors after all of my hard work. This is actually when I met Chase! I'll spare you the lame, cheesy details, but we got to talking, and somehow I ended up accidentally giving him the opportunity to compliment me, which he did. Hearing a genuine compliment from someone I barely knew was almost enough to just make me cry, right there. And I almost did, too, but I'm under just enough control of my emotions to not start bawling in public, haha.

I got a little sidetracked there, whoops. But that's my fight. Now onto Jamie, and the shared experience we had.

When Jamie came to us, he was fucked up. We knew he'd be in a bad state, considering we literally just tore him out of Anti's grip without warning, but nobody was expecting him to be in quite as bad of a state. He really struggled with eating, but most of us just played it off as anxiety or something. But something that Anti did to him must have lead him to believe he wasn't worthy of eating, or something similar, because some of his behaviors seemed all too familiar. I noticed the look on his face when he ate, and I remember having made that exact one countless times. When he walked past a mirror, I saw how he quickly glanced, making sure he still looks "skinny enough." He started wearing baggier clothes, hiding as much of his body as he could. What really broke me, what made me feel just so awful for not stepping in earlier, and so so awful for Jamie, was when I caught him actually body-checking. His fingers were wrapped around his wrist and he was so caught up in whatever fat he saw in the mirror that he didn't even hear me approach him. I don't have many specific memories of things any of us said during this period, but I'll always remember that I said "Whatever you see, it isn't there. You're perfect exactly the way you are." I think that moment was the one that really started that bond between us.

Another event that strengthened our bond was our first relapses. The one downside of living with another person going through the same shit as you is that when one gets hit, you feed off of each other and you both end up in a bad space. I relapsed first. I don't even remember what triggered it, but the entire time I just felt like I wasn't really in control of it. It just took over, and I was along for the ride. I tried my best to keep it a secret, keeping my schedule the same, any extra workouts were done in the privacy of my room. This me was determined to be able to fit back into my old suit. Everything was going as planned, I was losing weight fast, and all I got was the occasional "You okay?" from the guys. Until stupidly, I left the scale out. Henrik had taken out the batteries and put it out of sight when both of us had recovered, just as a caution. I'd been using it for some time now, but I was usually pretty good about putting it back. I must have gotten an emergency call or something though, because I never put it back. When I get back, I start to my room and hear Jamie crying. So I knock on his door to announce that I'm opening it, and I see him sitting on his bed, his fingers around his wrist. I know immediately that it's my fault, and all I can do is pull him into a tight hug and apologize. We talk for a while about what the hell we're dealing with, and promise each other that we'll tell the guys ourselves this time. That didn't happen until a few weeks later (happy birthday Chase, your friends are relapsing), but we told them and they're doing more for us than we could ever have asked for.

As of right now, Jamie and I are both still working on recovering, but we're both in a really good space.

[youcanhavemybuckanyday]

Answer all of them. 1-170. have fun.

HELL YES LETS GOOOOOOOO

1: How tall or short do you wish you were? 

5′2″. Exactly how tall I am now. I like being short.

2: What’s your dream pet? (Real or not)

I’ve always wanted a ferret. They can weed out people for me. If a person says “Ew, it’s a rat” then they ain’t worth my time.

 3: Do you have a favorite clothing style? 

Whatever’s on sale. Preferably baggy and comfortable

4: What was your favorite video game growing up? 

Always has been and always will be the Nancy Drew computer games. I’m obsessed. There are 32 games (we don’t talk about number 33), and I’ve played each one dozens of times.

5: What three things/people do you think of most each day: 

My laptop, my dog, my tumblr account

6: If you had a warning label, what would yours say? 

Warning: Prone to spontaneous breakdowns, both physically and mentally.

7: What is your opinion on [insert person/thing here]? 

Honest opinion on @Elizard-Hamilton, the person who sent this ask: They’re super sweet and kind, and probably the first reciprocal tumblr friendship I’ve ever had.

8: What is your Greek personality type? [Sanguine, Phlegmatic, Choleric, or Melancholic] 

Don’t know what that is, too drunk to figure it out right now.

9: Are you ticklish? 

God yes. But I retaliate. If you tickle me, you will die.

10: Are you allergic to anything? 

No, that’s the one medical thing that I don’t have.

11: What’s your sexuality? 

Hetero-Demi Sexual. So I like men, but I’m only sexually attracted to them if we’ve been close for a long time.

12: Do you prefer tea, coffee, or cocoa? 

Cocoa, always. Specifically, Tim Hortons Hot Chocolate. Medium, 2 creams.

13: Are you a cat or dog person? 

Dog. Always.

14: Would you rather be a vampire, elf, or merperson? 

I answered this one already, definitely merperson.

15: Do you have a favorite Youtuber? 

Nope.

16: How tall are you? 

See above.

17: If you had to change your name, what would you change it to? 

I’d just add an L to my name. New name, pronounced the same.

18: How much do you weigh? [Only ask this if you know the user doesn’t mind!] 

Right now, 126 lbs. But I should be 110. I just got off a medication that made me gain 40 pounds practically overnight. I went from 100 pounds to 140 pounds. I’m slowing losing the weight.

19: Do you believe in ghosts/spirits? 

Not in the traditional sense, but I do believe there are things about the departed we don’t yet understand. Kind of like way back when they though lightning was a supernatural event, until they found a scientific explanation for it. I think there’s stuff we just haven’t discovered yet.

20: Do you like space or the ocean more? 

Ocean.

21: Are you religious? 

Nope, athiest.

22: Pet peeves? 

Idk, I can’t think of any right now.

23: Would you rather be nocturnal or diurnal [opposite of nocturnal]? 

Wtf I don’t know? Who cares? I’d rather be whatever koalas are. They sleep 22 hours a day.

24: Favorite constellation? 

The only one I can think of right now is big dipper. That makes it my favourite and also my least favourite constellation.

25: Favorite star? 

See question 24, but North Star.

26: Do you like ball-jointed dolls? 

I don’t know what that is? Do you mean like Barbie? I litterally watching Barbie Nutcracker right now, lol.

27: Any phobias or fears? 

Spiders.

28: Do you think global warming is real? 

Duh.

29: Do you believe in reincarnation? 

No.

30: Favorite movie? 

Does Hamilton count? If yes, that. If not, Knives Out. I’m a sucker for a good murder mystery.

31: Do you get scared easily? 

Yes.

32: How many pets have you own in your lifetime? 

Oh god. Idk. You’re going to make me do math on vacation. Lets see. 3 Dogs, 2 Cats, ungodly numbers of fish, 2 rats, 5 hermit crabs, 3 hamsters, probably others I can’t remember.

33: Blog rate? [You’ll rate the blog of the one who’s asking.] 

@elizard-hamilton 10/10. 5 stars. Thumbs up. Gold Star.

34: What is a color that calms you? 

Royal Purple. I used to have a bedroom where everything was royal purple. The walls, the furniture, the bedding, the accessories. Everything. It was a great time in my life, so the colour makes me think of good times.

35: Where would you like to travel and/or live? 

I’d love to go to Belgium. My grandmother was born there, and we still have family over there that I’ve never met.

36: Where were you born? 

London Ontario

37: What is your eye color? 

Hazel

38: Introvert or extrovert? 

Introvert

39: Do you believe in horoscopes and zodiacs? 

Not at all

40: Hugs or kisses? 

None of the above. I have Asperger's, I don’t like to be touched.

41: Who is someone you would like to see/visit right now? 

I’d love to see my BFF from high school again. Haven’t talked to her since we graduated. Rachel, if you’re out there, I miss you.

42: Who is someone you love deeply? 

My parents.

43: Any piercings you want? 

None.

44: Do you like tattoos and piercings? 

Nope. I don’t have anything against them, they’re just not for me. If you have them, I won’t think any less of you. There’s nothing wrong with them.

45: Do you smoke or have you eiver done so? 

Nope. I’ve already got really shitty lungs (I have Cystic Fibrosis), I’d rather not make them worse than they already are.

46: Talk about your crush, if you have one! 

Oh gosh, he’s cute, funny, talented, a great singer, a great writer, he wrote a hit broadway musical... oh, he doesn’t count? Then no, no one right now.

47: What is a sound you really hate? 

Styrofoam rubbing against more styrofoam.

48: A sound you really love? 

The notification sound tumblr makes when I get something in my inbox

49: Can you do a backflip? 

HA no.

50: Can you do the splits? 

HA HA no.

51: Favorite actor and/or actress? 

Do I even need to answer this? I’m going to anyway. It’s..... drumroll........ Danny Devito! Lol, no, it’s Lin Manuel-Miranda

52: Favorite movie? 

This is the same as question 30.

53: How are you feeling right now? 

Drunk. Next question.

54: What color would you like your hair to be right now? 

Purple. I used to have purple hair. Then I got older and got a real job and I’m not allowed to die my hair anymore.

55: When did you feel happiest? 

At 16, with my purple hair and purple bedroom and my bff in like grade 11

56: Something that calms you down? 

Hamilton

57: Have any mental disorders? [Only ask this if you know the user doesn’t mind!] 

Asperger’s, Depression, situational anxiety.

58: What does your URL mean? 

Every time is Hamiltime. Because it’s always time for Hamilton.

59: What three words describe you the most? 

Bizarre, confrontational, idk. Is there a word that means unwilling to put up with anyone’s bullshit? Because if so, then that.

60: Do you believe in evolution? 

Yes. Evolution is a fact, it’s been proven. So this question should not say do you believe in evolution, it should say do you accept evolution.

61: What makes you unfollow a blog? 

If they start posting stuff i disagree with, or if they totally veer into a new fandom I’m not interested in. I’ve lost so many good blogs to kpop.

62: What makes you follow a blog? 

Idk, I like their stuff?

63: Favorite kind of person: 

Kind people.

64: Favorite animal(s): 

Pug.

65: Name three of your favorite blogs. 

I’m not going to start naming friends, cause I’ve got way more than three and I know I’m going to forget someone, so here’s 3 random blogs I enjoy: gmoringgnight, tinywhim, torsnavi

66: Favorite emoticon: 

I’m on my laptop, i don’t have emoticons right now, but probably the one where he’s crying laughing

67: Favorite meme: 

All of them. I love all the memes.

68: What is your MBTI personality type? 

I’m too drunk to remember right now, ask me tomorrow.

69: What is your star sign? 

Pisces

70: Can your dog roll over on command, if you have a dog? 

He cannot. He’s an idiot. But he can give you a high five, if that counts for something.

71: What outfit out of all your clothes do you like to wear the most? 

Leggings, T-Shirt, Hoodie. Whatever’s clean.

72: Post a selfie or two? 

No

73: Do you have platform shoes? 

No

74: What is one random but interesting fact about yourself? 

I can solve a rubik’s cube

75: Can you do a front flip? 

LOL NO

76: Do you like birds? 

To look at, not to own or touch

77: Do you like to swim? 

Very much. In the water, it’s the one place my back doesn’t hurt.

78: Is swimming or ice skating more fun to you? 

Swimming. I don’t skate. I know, oh wow, a Canadian who can’t skate. Sue me.

79: Something you wish didn’t exist: 

Trump.

80: Some thing you wish did exist: 

Alex Clairmont-Diaz

81: Piercings you have? 

My ears are pierced.

82: Something you really enjoy doing: 

Reading

83: Favorite person to talk to: 

My mom

84: What was your first impression of Tumblr? 

Amazing, finally a place I can be as weird as I want and it’s totally anonymous.

85: How many followers do you have? 

I have no idea.

86: Can you run a mile within ten minutes? 

HA no

87: Do your socks always match? 

Yes

88: Can you touch your toes and keep your legs straight completely? 

When I was 14, they did a surgery where they put metal rods in my spine to keep it from growing crooked. My spine doesn’t bend at all. So I’ve never tried to touch my toes, but I’m going to go with no, I can’t.

89: What are your birthstones? 

I think Aquamarine? I don’t remember.

90: If you were an animal, which one would you be? 

Koala. They sleep 22 hours a day.

91: If a flower could aesthetically represent you, what kind would it be? 

I can’t think of any flowers right now beyond rose and tulip, and neither represent me. Is there a flower that’s really ugly? If so, that.

92: A store you hate? 

Gap. I despise that store with every escence of my being.

93: How many cups of coffee can you drink in one day? 

None. It tastes like manure.

94: Would you rather be able to fly or read minds? 

Ooh, fly. No more wheelchair.

95: Do you like to wear camo? 

I don’t think i particularly like or dislike it. I just don’t wear it.

96: Winter or summer? 

SUMMER ALL THE TIME

97: How long can you hold your breath for? 

Not long at all. See explanation above, r.e. Cystic Fibrosis

98: Least favorite person? 

Trump

99: Someone you look up to: 

My mom

100: A store you love? 

Hot Topic. Yes, I’m basic like that. 

101: Favorite type of shoes 

Flats, cause I don’t have to attempt to bend over to put them on.

102: Where do you live? 

Hamilton, Ontario, Canada. Yes, I’m serious.

103: Are you a vegetarian or vegan? If so, why? 

Nope.

104: What is your favorite mineral or gem? 

Wtf? Are people supposed to have a favourite mineral or gem?

105: Do you drink milk? 

No

106: Do you like bugs? 

No

107: Do you like spiders? 

NO

108: Something you get paranoid about? 

If I remembered to turn off my computer before I go to bed.

109: Can you draw: 

Nope

110: Nosiest question you have ever been asked? 

On a daily basis, people ask me why I use my scooter or my wheelchair. Every day. Not so much during the pandemic, but yeah.

111: A question you hate being asked? 

“When are you going to get a boyfriend?” “When are you going to settle down?” 

112: Ever been bitten by a spider? 

NOPE

113: Do you like the sound of waves at the beach? 

Who doesn’t?

114: Do you prefer cloudy or sunny days? 

Cloudy, cause then I can stay indoors guilt-free

115: Someone you’d like to kiss or cuddle right now: 

My dog. But he’s with my sister.

116: Favorite cloud type: 

???? Is this something I’m supposed to have an opinion on?????

117: What color do you wish the sky was? 

???? IDGAF ??????

118: Do you have freckles? 

No

119: Favorite thing about a person: 

Their laugh

120: Fruits or vegetables? 

Fruit

121: Something you want to do right now: 

Get another drink, but that’s probs not a great idea

122: Is the ocean or sky prettier? 

Ocean

123: Sweet or sour foods? 

Sweet

124: Bright or dim lights? 

Dim

125: Do you believe in a certain magical creature? 

No

126: Something you hate about Tumblr: 

I can’t reblog ads. Some of those ads are really, REALLY funny.

127: Something you love about Tumblr: 

Completely anonymous. I could be anyone. For all you know, I’m actually Mike Pence. (I promise I’m not)

128: What do you think about the least? 

Idk? There’s probably lots of stuff I’ve never thought about at all

129: What would you want written on your tombstone? 

Nothing, but I want there to be a little machine on top that looks like a parking meter, and when you put money in it you get wifi for an hour.

130: Who would you like to punch in the face right now? 

Trump, most of the politicians in the states. I want to go to New York, and I can’t because y’all can’t get your shit together and kick this virus.

131: What is something you love but also hate about yourself? 

My face. Not going to elaborate.

132: Do you smile with your teeth showing for pictures?

Yes, but only because I get yelled at if I don’t.

133: Computer or TV? 

Computer.

134: Do you like roller coasters? 

I used to. Then the back surgery and now I can’t anymore.

135: Do you get motion sickness or seasickness? 

Motion sickness no, seasickness yes.

136: Are your ears lobed or attached? 

Lobed.

137: Do you believe in karma? 

I believe that what you do will eventually come back to bite you in the ass, but I don’t believe in some cosmic force that balances the scales.

138: On a scale of 1-10, how attractive would you say you are? 

0. Not going to elaborate.

139: What nicknames do you have/have had? 

None. My name has always been Adele. The few people who tried to give me nicknames got shot down real quick.

140: Did you have any pretend or imaginary friends? 

When I was little, yeah

141: Have you ever seen a therapist/shrink? 

Yes ma’am. For over a decade.

142: Would you say you are a good or bad influence to others? 

Both at different times.

143: Do you prefer giving or receiving gifts/help? 

Giving. I never know what to say when receiving.

144: What makes you angry 

A lot of things these days. Can’t think of anything specific. My sister, usually.

145: How many languages do you speak fluently? 

Two. I speak French and English.

146: Do you prefer boys, girls, and/or non-binaries? 

Boys.

147: Are you androgynous? 

Nope.

148: Favorite physical thing about yourself: 

My face. Not going to elaborate.

149: Favorite thing about your personality: 

My “take no shit” attitude.

150: Name three people you would like to talk to right now in person. 

Lin Manuel Miranda, Renee Elise Goldsberry, anyone from West Wing

151: If you could go back into time and live in one era, which would you choose? 

Revolutionary America

152: Do you like BuzzFeed? 

I’ve been known to partake.

153: How did you meet your spouse/girlfriend/boyfriend/partner? [If you have one.] 

Nope. I’m forever alone.

154: Do you like to kiss others’ foreheads or hands for platonic reasons? 

No. I have Asperger’s. No touching.

155: Do you like to play with others’ hair? 

No.

156: What embarrasses you? 

When I need to ask for help for really simple things because of my wheelchair or other disabilities. I hate it.

157: Something that makes you nervous/anxious: 

The future, for reasons way too complex to write in a tumblr post.

158: Biggest lie you have ever told: 

I convinced half my second grade class I was related to Elton John once. That was fun. They believed it for like 3 months.

159: How many people are you following? 

Hundreds.

160: How many posts do you have on your blog(s)? 

I don’t even know how I would find that out.

161: How many drafts do you have on your blog(s)? 

Right now, I have 12, but that’s because I’ve queued up the next 4 days HamiltonHungerGames. Usually, I have none. I don’t understand how people have drafts. When I feel like writing something on tumblr, I start a post, I end the post, I post it. I never use drafts

162: How many likes do you have on your blog(s)? 

??? Again, I have no idea how to find that information.

163: Last time you cried and why: 

I honestly don’t remember.

164: Do you have long or short hair? 

Usually long, but right now short. My mom decided to give me a covid haircut, and she does not understand the meaning of “Just a trim”.

165: Longest your hair has ever been: 

Down to my butt. 

166: Why do you like, dislike, or have neutral feelings about religon? 

Dislike. I’m not going to talk about it here, but if you’re really curious you can dm me.

167: Do you really care how the universe and world was created? 

Yes, because if we know where the universe and world came from, we can figure out where it’s headed. See the book Origins by Dan Brown.

168: Do you like to wear makeup? 

Not at all.

169: Can you stand on your hands or head for more than thirty seconds? 

I can barely stand on my feet for more than 30 seconds.

170: Did you answer the questions you were asked truthfully? 

Tried to.

Ok, this took me an hour and 45 minutes. I’m tired, I’m drunk, I’m going to regret this in the morning, I’m going to bed. Night y’all.