#but it's hard after living with an eating disorder as a teenager that wasn't really treated properly. i mean i started eating more and

[silvfyre-writings]

Learning About Ranpo (BSD Fanfic)

Hello, welcome back to another Fukudad fic! This one is connected to "What Don't I Know" but you don't have to have read it to understand this one! And in case you were wondering, yes I have read 108 and no, I am not okay. But anyways!

This fic has dark themes and I wasn't sure what exactly to tag, but I will have a content warning, so please be mindful. There is nothing graphically described, but I will still list what is mentioned.

With that being said, I hope you enjoy, and that if you enjoyed, you'll leave a like or even reblog (or both!) :D

Happy reading!

CW: Disordered eating, references to child prostitution ((at the very end) if I miss something you feel needs a warning, please, let me know!)

It had only been three days, and Fukuzawa was more tired than he’d ever been before in his life. Before that night at the theatre, he’d been tired, moving from job to job, protecting the lives of others; and even before that, he’d been tired, ending the lives of those that he had been asked to kill. Of course, there’d been other times when he’d been tired—what adult hadn’t been tired at least once in their life?—but for some reason those two were the only thing that came to mind when looking for a comparison with his current state. Although it seemed right, to compare his current exhaustion to the kind that his jobs usually gave him.

Because looking after a fourteen year old boy was nothing if not difficult, especially when one had never interacted with children in such a way before now.

Not that Edogawa Ranpo was a normal child, not in the slightest.

When he’d first met the teenager only a few days ago, Ranpo had been loud and confident, and even a little arrogant at times, making demands regardless of how out there they were; for example, when Ranpo had demanded to be carried by Fukuzawa after he’d fed the boy at the restaurant, who had been nothing more than a complete stranger at the time. Yes, he’d given in in the end, but that wasn’t the point.

The point was, that Fukuzawa was at a loss in how to proceed with taking care of this child.

Fukuzawa watched Ranpo carefully from his spot in the kitchen, being mindful as to not burn the food he was cooking. The teenager was sat on the couch, staring at nothing in particular as he fidgeted with the hem of his shirt like he had been since Fukuzawa had come into the kitchen. He had to wonder, just what it was exactly that Ranpo was thinking so hard about to produce such a look on his face, and whether or not it was a good or bad expression. Fukuzawa tried not to linger on it, and turned back to the food on the stove, stirring the pot a few times before the noodles he was boiling could stick together or overflow.

It'd been three days since Ranpo had come to live with Fukuzawa, and two days since that dreadful shopping trip that had shown Fukuzawa just how unprepared and unequipped he was to raise a child. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try his damn best of course; he’d promised Ranpo a safe place to stay, and there was no way he was going to go back on it now. It would be cruel and heartless of him to do such a thing, especially when Ranpo was so obviously attached to him for reasons he didn’t quite understand.

Yet, since that shopping trip, Ranpo had grown distant and quiet, taking up residence on the couch and only getting up to go to the bathroom, or when it was time for sleep—regrettably, still in Fukuzawa’s room since there wasn’t really anywhere else for the boy to sleep, although Fukuzawa had started to look at apartments with an extra bedroom so that Ranpo could finally have his own space. He was starting to get used to waking up in the morning with Ranpo clinging to him, but he was starting to miss his room being his room, so the sooner they found somewhere more suitable, the better.

“Ranpo.” Fukuzawa called out as he pulled the noodles off the stove, now fully cooked, and set about preparing the rest of their lunch which was nothing more than a simple soba noodle dish. His reasoning behind the dish was that it was Ranpo’s first proper meal since he’d started to live with Fukuzawa; he’d noticed that Ranpo didn’t really eat outside of his snacks, and that whenever Fukuzawa offered to cook the boy a meal, he was politely rejected. He didn’t know why that was, considering that when he’d first offered food to Ranpo, back at that first murder case, the boy had agreed to it instantly without any hesitation. Fukuzawa had an idea that it was something to do with Ranpo not wanting to feel like an annoyance or a burden, so he’d figured that if he cooked the food beforehand, and then offered it, that Ranpo might be more willing to eat it.

Ranpo looked up when his name was called and hummed to show he’d heard.

“I have made some soba for lunch. Would you like some?” Fukuzawa asked, even as he carefully split the dish apart into two servings. Even if Ranpo didn’t end up eating all of the meal, the dish that Fukuzawa had cooked was chosen for that specific purpose since it could always be reheated later on. But he was still hoping that Ranpo would actually eat all of it; he was so scrawny that Fukuzawa was actually worried about the boy’s health.

Ranpo’s eyes—closed by choice as far as he knew for yet another reason Fukuzawa wasn’t aware off—flicked open to look from the bowls in Fukuzawa’s hands to Fukuzawa’s face before slipping closed again. The silence between them extends for another minute as Ranpo just sat there before the boy is smiling wide, sliding off the couch to sit at the low table in front of it. “Sure thing! I’m so hungry I could eat yours as well!”

Fukuzawa blinked at the sudden change in attitude; he’d almost gotten used to the silent Ranpo, as unnatural as it was, but even though Ranpo looked happy, there was something tickling the back of Fukuzawa’s mind that not everything was okay, that maybe the young teen was trying to force that smile in order to reassure him. Stop looking for problems that aren’t there, Yukichi, he told himself, trying his best to push his concerns away, Ranpo is clearly just adjusting to a new environment still, and probably recovering from that disaster of a shopping trip.

He’d expected lunch to be a quiet affair, like every other meal had been the past few days, but it seemed that whatever thoughts or worries that had been plaguing Ranpo’s mind were gone, because the boy was chatting away, so fast it was amazing he still had enough air in his lungs to keep talking. And it wasn’t even about anything important, like what was going to happen next, or complaints about the new living arrangements like Fukuzawa had been expecting; it was literally about mundane stuff; the birds that had been perched on the balcony that morning, the lack of sweetness in the soba—Fukuzawa had to wonder that if he stuck straight sugar in front of Ranpo, whether the boy would just eat that instead—and the tiny size of the apartment.

Which gave Fukuzawa the perfect opportunity to butt into the rambling.

“The apartment being small is something I intend to rectify in time.” Fukuzawa swallowed the last of the noodles in his mouth and set his chopsticks on top of the bowl. “But first, we need to figure out what it is that you are doing.”

Ranpo froze in his seat, good mood vanishing completely, as he continued to swirl his own chopsticks around the bowl in front of him. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve already told me you wanted to stay here, but you haven’t seemed very happy to be here the past few days. I am simply wondering if you’ve changed your mind?”

“I haven’t.” Ranpo nibbled on the noodles. “I do want to stay here, it’s just… new.” The boy shrugged and pushed his food away from him. “I’m just adjusting to all this still.”

Fukuzawa can read the unspoken words in the way the tension lined Ranpo’s shoulders, and the way that Ranpo refused to lift his gaze from where it was focused on the table. “You fear that this is temporary, and that I will grow sick of you, and throw you out just like others have done to you before.”

“I don’t fear, I know.”

“I have no intentions of throwing you out, Ranpo.” Fukuzawa frowned at the way Ranpo sounded so certain that he was going to return to life on the streets despite Fukuzawa already promising not to do that. “I meant what I said when I said you were welcome to stay, and I will continue to mean it. I refuse to be like those adults that you despise so much, who rather than take the time to help you, just threw you out onto the streets.”

His words caused Ranpo to draw his knees to his chest and hide his face into them, but he couldn’t see any signs that Ranpo was crying so he stayed where he was and just waited patiently. “You don’t know me.” Ranpo said after several minutes. “You say all these things now, but once you get to know me, you won’t be saying those things.”

Fukuzawa’s frown deepened, and Ranpo curled up even smaller.

“Adults always say they care, you know? But it’s all lies. They put on a smile and talk to you even though they just think you’re some stupid kid not even worth their precious time. They promise you food and a safe place to sleep and a job, but then a few days go by and they’re throwing you out onto the streets because you did something they didn’t like. And before you say ‘not all adults’, it is. It’s why I know that if I’m not careful, you’ll grow sick of me too and just throw me out, and… I don’t want to be discarded again. It’s tiring.”

It made sense to Fukuzawa in that moment, why when he’d met Ranpo, the boy had always made comments about hating the adult world, and not understanding adults when they spoke to him. For so long, Ranpo had been failed by the adults that were supposed to help and support him. He recalled the moment at the restaurant where Ranpo had told him he’d only come to Yokohama in the first place was because the director of the police academy had been good friends with his father. And instead of being cared for, Ranpo had found himself on the streets in a city he was unfamiliar in, with no one to rely on but himself. And it made sense now, why Ranpo was so skeptical and annoyed when other people didn’t just say what they meant to begin with, because why drag out the pain to begin with? Why not just say the cruel words and be done with it regardless of how cruel they actually are?

“Ranpo.” Fukuzawa waited for Ranpo to acknowledge him. “You are right, I don’t know you, but you also don’t know me despite what you may have already deduced. And you may not trust my words, but they are the truth. I will not throw you out. I do care about your wellbeing. If someone you do annoys me, I will tell you so. And if something I do annoys you, you can tell me as well. I understand your mistrust, it is well deserved after everything you have been through, and I don’t expect you to trust me right now, but when you are ready to trust again, you can trust me.”

Ranpo nodded, and returned his head to his knees. “Communication, huh… I’m not good at that.”

Fukuzawa shrugged. “And neither am I. We’ll just have to figure it out as we go, alright?” He leaned over and pushed Ranpo’s half-eaten bowl back towards him. “But first, finish your lunch. You haven’t been eating.”

Ranpo gave him a look, but dragged the bowl closer and began to nibble on the noodles once again whilst Fukuzawa stood to dispose of his own bowl. From the corner of his eye, he watched Ranpo eat, well sort of eat really since all Ranpo seemed to do was take a bite or two and then push his food around a bit, and then repeat. It worried him a little, but Fukuzawa wasn’t going to say anything right now, not until he was certain it was something he truly needed to worry about in the first place. He reached into one of the kitchen drawers and pulled out some clingwrap. “If you can’t finish it, Ranpo, just cover it and put it back in the fridge. You can eat it later.”

“Thanks.” Ranpo sighed as he pushed the bowl away once again, this time standing and coming to stand beside Fukuzawa while he wrapped his lunch to put it away.

Fukuzawa was about to leave and get started on finding his next job, when Ranpo spoke. “What’s… happening now?”

“What do you mean?” Fukuzawa asked.

“When you agreed to take me in, you said you’d give me work and that we needed to do things. You know, like shopping.” Ranpo looked up at him. “And we’ve done the shopping part, so what’s next?”

“That is what I am going to figure out.” Fukuzawa explained as he made his way over to his laptop that resided on the low table in the living room. “The important part for that trip was getting you some clothes and food, but now that you have those, we can slow down and take things one at a time.”

Ranpo followed him over and returned to his spot on the couch, grabbing the glasses that Fukuzawa had given him and just holding them. “Okay, but what are you planning?”

“Well,” Fukuzawa angled the laptop so that Ranpo could look over his shoulder. “I am looking at a bigger apartment so that you can have your own space—”

“And so you can have your own room back?” Ranpo interrupted with a grin on his face. “Not used to sharing space are you, old man?”

Fukuzawa rolled his eyes. “I am not, and sharing my room is not the issue. I am getting used to waking up with you drooling onto my sleepwear. The issue—”

“Hey, I don’t drool!”

“—is that you are a growing teenage boy that needs space of your own.” Fukuzawa looked over his shoulder and levelled Ranpo with a stare. “Besides, I am only renting this apartment so we will have to move eventually anyways. So I will start the search now.”

“Okay, okay, fine, but that’s not all you’re doing are you? You’ve got other tabs open. I can see them.” Ranpo leaned closer, almost falling off the couch to do so if it weren’t for his grip on the arm of it.

“I am looking for a suitable doctor to take you to.” Fukuzawa said, and before he can say anything else, Ranpo shoved himself into the back of the couch, that guarded look from a few days prior slapped onto his face.

“Why?”

“Because you have lived on the streets for over a year without any kind of medical care.” Fukuzawa answered carefully, on edge himself from the way that Ranpo had drawn away from him so fast when only seconds ago, they’d been bantering. “It will be nothing more than a simple health check, Ranpo.”

Ranpo was silent, body tense and eyes glaring, not from anger, but from fear. Fukuzawa made sure to keep his expression neutral even though he wanted to frown at the boy’s behaviour. It’s normal for people, especially children, to be fearful of doctors. The memory of what happened in the grocery store crossed his mind, of Ranpo shutting down and yelling because too much was going on around him. Maybe the sensory issues are the reason?

“Do you fear that the doctor’s office will be like the grocery store?” He asked, just to be certain.

After a moment, Ranpo gave a slow nod. “They aren’t nice places.” He sounded hesitant, like it was shameful of him to be admitting that he was scared of something. “Bright and lots screaming children.”

“Alright, I’ll see if I can find one that’s better for you.” Fukuzawa said. “Is there anything else you require to make it easier on you?”

“Not going at all would be best.” Ranpo mumbled under his breath, but then louder, he answered Fukuzawa’s question. “A female doctor. One that’s nice.”

“Okay.” Fukuzawa reached behind him to ruffle Ranpo’s hair, smiling softly. “I know you don’t want to go. If it helps, this is the only visit you’ll need to make unless the doctor finds something wrong.”

Ranpo hummed and stood. “I’m going to take a nap.”

Fukuzawa nodded and watched as Ranpo left the room, observing the way that the teen still seemed on edge, and waited until he heard the sound of the bedroom door closing before he let out the sigh that he’d been holding back this entire time. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back to rest against the couch. His eyes opened a second later and he stared at the ceiling. I’m not cut out to raise this boy.

Over the next week, almost two weeks since they’d first met, Ranpo’s mood seemed to improve, for the boy had finally begun to emerge from the shell he’d sequestered himself away in and the Ranpo that Fukuzawa had first met returned. Fukuzawa wanted to put it down to that Ranpo had simply grown comfortable in the apartment, and that he’d realized that Fukuzawa wasn’t going to throw him back into the streets, but that would make him a fool and a fool he was not. Because the past week had taught him a lot, and caused him to realize that he was very much in over his head with this parenting gimmick even though he was doing his best to not let that get to him. But it was hard, when he’d realized that despite the way Ranpo presented himself to others was just for show, and that underneath that mask, lay a very fragile and uncertain boy.

He’d learnt this on the sixth night of them living together, when he’d woken during the middle of the night to find that Ranpo wasn’t in the futon next to him, and that the apartment was deathly silent. Panic had been quick to fill him, and Fukuzawa had thrown himself out of bed and out into the hallway, ready to tear down his apartment to find the missing boy, only to see the bathroom light on, and the door cracked just enough for him to hear the whimpers and sobs coming from within.

It’d torn his heart into pieces, to push open that door and find Ranpo pressed into the corner with tears streaming down his face and a hand covering his mouth because he hadn’t wanted to disturb Fukuzawa with his crying. Not even a second passed before Fukuzawa was sitting on the floor next to Ranpo and drawing the boy into an embrace.

“Talk to me, Ranpo. Tell me what’s wrong?” Fukuzawa asked.

Ranpo cried into his chest. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s stupid.”

“No it’s not. But if you don’t want to talk though, that is fine, but if you do, I will listen.”

Ranpo had continued to cry for a while into Fukuzawa’s shirt before he finally opened up about what had brought on the tears, and as promised, Fukuzawa had listened. He’d listened as Ranpo told him about how he hadn’t really been given the chance to process everything that’d happened to him since his parents death, that so much had happened to him in such a short amount of time that all he could do was lock the emotions away until an appropriate time. A time that had decided to come at two in the morning.

Fukuzawa felt like crying alongside Ranpo as he listened, heart clenching at knowing that for almost two years, Ranpo had been holding his emotions back because he hadn’t felt safe enough to let them out, not until Fukuzawa had come along and provided him the safe place he’d needed to just break down. But he didn’t. He just sat there and held Ranpo close, one arm providing a firm and reassuring pressure, and the other running through Ranpo’s hair to soothe him.

The sun had been rising by the time that Ranpo had calmed down enough to drift back off to sleep, so Fukuzawa had taken him back to bed and covered the boy in blankets. He wanted nothing more than to join Ranpo in sleep, staying up most of the night providing comfort was tiring apparently, but Fukuzawa had been called for a job, so instead of getting some much needed rest, he’d woken Ranpo enough to tell him he would be gone, but to call if he was needed, and gone to work after Ranpo acknowledged him.

He'd still left a note, just in case Ranpo hadn’t been awake enough to remember what Fukuzawa had told him.

After Ranpo’s breakdown in the bathroom, he’d taken that as the perfect opportunity to open up to Fukuzawa, apparently deeming Fukuzawa worthy of knowing a few things about him—not much, but enough to make Fukuzawa’s life a little easier.

Not that Fukuzawa had been expecting Ranpo to do that, since he’d come home from work and been dragged to the dining table, and having some tea that had been steeped just a little too long shoved at him. Fukuzawa had blinked, but accepted his fate and sat at the table, tea resting in front of him as Ranpo fidgeted across from him. Twenty minutes passed before Ranpo finally spoke. “I can tell now that you aren’t going to throw me out, and because I know that, I want to tell you some things. About me.”

Fukuzawa sipped the tea Ranpo had made for him. “I’m listening.”

Ranpo took a deep breath, clutching a glass of water close to him in order to still his restless hands. “I have issues with sounds and lights, which you already figured out, but they aren’t all.” Ranpo looked up and waited for Fukuzawa to nod before continuing. “It’s… hard to explain, but food and sometimes clothing… are also annoying.”

“Annoying? How do you mean?” Fukuzawa asked. He made sure to give Ranpo his full attention as he spoke, grateful that Ranpo was finally trusting him enough to open up to him. He wanted to understand the boy in his care better, and knew that whatever Ranpo told him would help, he just had to be open minded and listen.

“I dunno.” Ranpo shrugged. “Clothes are easier to deal with I guess; they just need to be soft and not tight. Food is… harder. I can’t really, I dunno, tell you what I can eat and what I can’t eat.”

Fukuzawa hesitated, before carefully speaking. “Is that because of your time on the streets?”

Ranpo nodded once. “It was either eat what I could get, or starve.”

“And that’s why you snack.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement, and it was one that had Ranpo nodding.

“Yeah. Snacks are easy, and accessible. And, I appreciate when you cook, but it’s… hard. Right now at least.”

“I understand.” And Fukuzawa did. He didn’t fully understand the reasoning why Ranpo was averse to certain things, and he had a feeling that Ranpo didn’t quite understand either, but he did get why food was difficult for the boy at this point in time; living on the streets for any amount of time was harsh and sometimes cruel, and it one’s next meal wasn’t always a guarantee. And while snacks were easy, like Ranpo said, most were not nutritious enough to be sustainable. “I will stick to simple meals for now; noodles and rice, and you eat what you can.”

“And… what if I can’t eat the meals you cook?” Ranpo asked slowly, dropping his eyes to the table as his hands began to fidget again.

“Then you tell me and we’ll make you something you can eat.” Fukuzawa said.

“Okay.” A pause. “I’m a little hungry now.”

Fukuzawa stood from the table and made his way towards the kitchen. “I’ll cook dinner then. Eggs and rice sound good?”

Ranpo opened his eyes and smiled. “Yeah, sounds great.”

And after those rough couple of days, things were fine.

Until now.

Because it was time to tackle the last thing on his internal checklist; the doctor.

“Breathe, Ranpo. Just breathe.” Fukuzawa placed his hand on Ranpo’s back, feeling the way Ranpo trembled underneath his palm. The doctor’s office was in sight, literally only a few metres away, but Ranpo had taken one look and frozen dead in his tracks, and had been unwilling to move no matter how much Fukuzawa tried to coax him to keep moving. Thankfully, there’d been a bench close by that he’d managed to lead Ranpo to, and now he was just doing his best to try and calm Ranpo down so that they could actually get into the office.

Ranpo took a breath and brought his knees to his chest, hiding his face into them a moment later. “I want to go home, Fukuzawa-san.”

“I know you do.” Fukuzawa sat on the bench next to Ranpo, and frowned when the boy pulled away from him, curling into the corner of the bench to face away from him. He watched Ranpo carefully, trying to understand what he’d done to cause Ranpo—who’d always reacted to physical comfort well from what he’d witnessed—to withdraw when things had finally been getting better between them. There was tension in Ranpo’s entire body, and although his face was turned away, it didn’t take a genius to realize that Ranpo was afraid.

It reminded him of that time in the grocery store when Ranpo had become so overwhelmed he’d lashed out, only instead of lashing out like he had back then, he was withdrawing completely. Only, unlike the grocery store, Fukuzawa didn’t know how to help this time, not when Ranpo had made it clear he didn’t want to be touched.

“Can we please go home?” Ranpo’s hands clutched at the arm of the bench, eyes squeezed shut, and all the air in his lungs leaving in a singular breath.

“You told me not to let you.” Fukuzawa was gentle with his words, reminding Ranpo of their conversation that morning where Ranpo had quietly told him that his fear of the upcoming appointment was more than enough for him to become irrational, and that he would most likely try to convince Fukuzawa to just go back home. They’d sat on the couch for an hour, and Fukuzawa had gone over everything he knew about the office and the doctor; going on to tell Ranpo of his own experiences as a child, because despite it being many, many years ago, he figured the words might help to soothe Ranpo’s fears.

And they had, at least, that’s what Fukuzawa had thought, but apparently he’d been wrong.

“So? I can change my mind. I don’t want to go. I don’t need to go. Let’s just go home, alright?” Ranpo’s grip tightened as he grew more anxious.

“Ranpo.” Fukuzawa said. “Take a breath for me.”

Ranpo did.

“Another.”

A deeper breath this time. Ranpo’s hands loosened.

“Again.”

This breath relieved the tension in Ranpo’s shoulders and very slowly, the boy turned to face him, lifting his head to meet Fukuzawa’s eyes, his own flicking open.

“Do you feel better?” Fukuzawa asked.

Ranpo nodded. “Yeah. I’m sorry though.”

Fukuzawa reached over with his hand and held it out, leaving it up to Ranpo to decide if he wanted the extra support or not. Ranpo eyed his hand carefully before he slid across the bench and threw himself against Fukuzawa, much like he had the night at the warehouse, only this time, there were no tears involved. And this time, Fukuzawa knew what he was supposed to do, and wrapped his own arms around Ranpo’s tiny frame. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“You’re just trying to help me, and I’m not making it easy.”

Fukuzawa gave Ranpo a reassuring squeeze. “It does not bother me. You are frightened for a reason, and that is fine. If you wish to tell me what scares you so—”

“I don’t.” Ranpo interrupted, pulling away from the embrace, some of that earlier tension returning. “And you can’t make me tell you.”

“I have no intention of making you tell me.” Fukuzawa raised an eyebrow and stood. “Forcing you to tell me would be counterproductive and do more harm than good. I simply trust that in time, you may trust me enough to tell me, but even if you don’t ever tell me, I will continue to support you as best I can with what I do know.”

Ranpo ducked his head and mumbled. ��I do trust you…”

“Not fully. We have only known each other for two weeks, Ranpo, and while you may trust me enough to tell me some things about yourself—which I am grateful for—I do not expect you to trust me enough to divulge everything you haven’t yet told me.” Fukuzawa explained, not quite sure if he was making much sense, but if there was anyone that would understand the point he was trying to convey, it was the teenage genius sitting in front of him.

After a few minutes of sitting in silence, Ranpo nodded and stood. “Okay. Thank you. You know, for not pushing me.”

Fukuzawa nodded and took a step towards the doctor’s clinic, relieved when Ranpo fell into step behind him. The boy was quiet, and remained quiet as they entered the building, only stepping closer to Fukuzawa and grabbing onto his sleeve with a death grip. And he was still quiet as Fukuzawa spoke to the receptionist, and when they took a seat in the quietest part of the waiting room. There were only a few other people in the waiting room with them, which Fukuzawa had expected, considering he’d made the appointment for the end of the day; it was a small attempt to make Ranpo feel more comfortable in an already uncomfortable environment.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Fukuzawa asked.

Ranpo shook his head. “I can do it on my own.”

“Alright.” And just as he’d said that, a nurse stepped out of the room and called for Ranpo, the teen jerking in his seat beside him. Fukuzawa placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. “I’ll be right here if you do need me, okay?”

Ranpo nodded, and slowly shuffled off after the nurse, disappearing into one of the rooms. Fukuzawa watched the door with focused eyes, worried that Ranpo had been putting on a brave face and that he’d only rejected Fukuzawa’s offer to not feel like he was being a burden. But there was a feeling deep inside him that said that wasn’t the case at all; when Ranpo had walked past him, there’d been a look to his eyes, one that Fukuzawa had seen before but not been able to place at the time. And he still couldn’t, but it wasn’t a coincidence to see the same haunted look twice… right?

Fukuzawa fought the urge to get up and start pacing as the time ticked by and there was no sign of Ranpo emerging—it’d only been perhaps ten minutes, but still—yet somehow, he managed to stay in his seat, still as stone as he tuned out his surroundings. The other people in the waiting room went to their own appointments and left, and soon enough, it was just Fukuzawa and the receptionists left in the vicinity.

Worry was starting to grow within him, because the few doctors appointments he’d been to as a child himself, had never gone on for more than a few minutes, no matter how sick or injured he’d been when dragged there by his parents. Although… Fukuzawa had never been forced to live on the streets at any point in his life, so it was highly likely that the doctor was just making sure that Ranpo was okay. Fukuzawa took a breath to try and clear the worry from his mind; it’d only been two weeks and already, he was worrying about Ranpo like he’d known the kid for years.

A door opened and Fukuzawa stood just in time to catch Ranpo in his arms, the boy burrowing himself into his yukata in an attempt to hide. Fukuzawa doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around Ranpo to hide him further, lifting his head to meet the eyes of the doctor Ranpo had been speaking to. The doctor is young, and has a kind face, so Fukuzawa was at a bit of a loss as to why Ranpo’s clinging to him like his world has just ended.

“You must be Ranpo’s guardian.” The doctor stopped in front of him, keeping a respectable distance, yet still exuding a friendly aura as she hands him a piece of paper. “Aside from being deficient in several vitamin’s and underweight, Ranpo is quite healthy, considering he’s been living on the streets for as long as he told me.”

Ranpo’s grip tightened, and Fukuzawa moved one of his arms so that his sleeves were almost ensconcing Ranpo entirely. The other arm reached out to take the paper that had the names of some vitamins scrawled onto it, along with a few other things that Fukuzawa would look into later. The doctor continued on, “I’ve written down some supplements that I recommend Ranpo start taking to try and get his levels back up, which you can get at pretty much any pharmacy, and then in, let’s say… three months, come back and we’ll see if he’s doing any better and if we need to do anything more.”

“Okay.” Fukuzawa gently toyed with Ranpo’s hair as the boy tensed further. He wasn’t particularly fond of talking about Ranpo as if he wasn’t right there listening—if he even was in the first place—to them do so, but it also didn’t look like Ranpo would react well at all if they even gave the slightest inclination of trying to include him. Still, Fukuzawa was reluctant as he asked, “And what about the underweight part? How can I help with that?”

“With time and patience mostly, but if you can get the kid eating regular meals, then he’ll put on weight.” The doctor explained. “Any concerns, you can call the office and they’ll put you straight through to me, but if there’s nothing else, I’ll see you back here in three months.”

“Thank you.” Fukuzawa guided Ranpo out of the building quickly once the doctor returned to her office, and crouched before the boy once they had gained some distance. “What’s wrong, Ranpo?”

Thin arms wrap around his neck, and Ranpo buries his face into the crook of Fukuzawa’s neck; he understands immediately what is being asked of him despite Ranpo not saying anything, and lifts the teen into his arms and began to set off for home. “What’s wrong?” He repeated.

“Nothing.” The words are croaked into his neck, and Fukuzawa could feel tears beginning to fall against his skin. Ranpo sniffed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Alright. But I’m here if you do, okay?”

Ranpo nodded, and the rest of the walk home was filled with silence, only broken by the occasional noise that Ranpo let out as he quietly cried. Fukuzawa tried his best not to worry, and focused on soothing Ranpo instead, but he couldn’t help but wonder what had happened with the doctor to make Ranpo feel this way.

Whatever it was, he didn’t like it.

Fukuzawa sat next to Ranpo’s futon, a book in one hand while the other ran through Ranpo’s hair. He wasn’t really paying attention to what he was reading, no matter how much he forced himself to try and read more than the same few sentences over and over again. But he couldn’t focus, not when Ranpo was still so upset. The teen was asleep now, curled up underneath his blankets with his face hidden; when they’d arrived home, Fukuzawa had put Ranpo down, only for the boy to collapse and break entirely. For twenty minutes, they’d sat there on the floor in the entryway, Fukuzawa just holding Ranpo and shushing him gently as he cried. But for twenty minutes, Ranpo had continued to cry until the exhaustion became too much and he’d passed out in his arms.

So, he’d taken Ranpo to bed, and tucked him in before sitting beside him, ready to keep watch until Ranpo woke just so the kid didn’t have to wake up alone wondering where he’d gone. And so far, it’d been just over two hours; the sun had set and Fukuzawa knew he should get up and cook something, but he just couldn’t bring himself to, not until he knew Ranpo would be okay. And even then, he wouldn’t let Ranpo out of his sight.

He paused in his ministrations when he felt Ranpo stir underneath his palm and just waited. Ranpo curled up as he struggled back into the waking world, before his eyes blinked open, revealing those green eyes to the world. Fukuzawa was patient as Ranpo tried to gain his bearings, the teen looking around the room, and at him before he resorted to staring at his lap, eyes slipping shut.

Fukuzawa stood. “I am about to get started on dinner, Ranpo. Would you like something in particular?”

Ranpo shook his head. “’m not hungry.”

“Are you sure?” Fukuzawa frowned, the worry that had never truly faded since arriving back at home, returning in full force, especially after the doctor had told him he was supposed to be trying to get Ranpo to eat proper meals again. When Ranpo didn’t answer him, Fukuzawa continued to try getting Ranpo to agree to eat. “I believe I may have some apples. I’ll cut one up for you.”

Still, Ranpo said nothing, and Fukuzawa quietly left the bedroom, leaving the door cracked open while he quickly moved to the kitchen to do as he’d said. While he sliced the apple—just one, like he’d said—he tried to grapple with this new situation he’d found himself in. Ranpo’s silence reminded him of those few days after he’d taken the boy in, where Ranpo hadn’t quite believed that Fukuzawa was going to keep him around; only this time, it felt like a completely different kind of silence, one that didn’t promise anything good.

Once Fukuzawa had cut up the apple and placed it on a plate, he returned to the room and knelt beside Ranpo, coaxing the boy into sitting up. “Take as long as you need, but try to eat it all if you can.”

Ranpo just stared at the plate, before he picked up a slice and nibbled on it.

Fukuzawa felt himself breathe a little easier in that moment.

And that was when the proverbial shit hit the fan.

Five days. That was all it took for everything Fukuzawa thought he knew about Ranpo to become completely and utterly useless. In just five, short days, all the work Fukuzawa had put into learning how to be an effective parental figure for Ranpo over the last couple of months was completely undone, and he wasn’t sure he knew how to fix it.

The first issue was Ranpo’s complete lack of appetite. Gone was the boy who snacked all day; now Ranpo refused to eat anything, no matter how much Fukuzawa tried to convince the boy to eat something, anything. The best he’d been able to do was get Ranpo to eat half an apple, and that had been on the second day, but he still continued to try, leaving apples and other fruits on a plate next to Ranpo’s futon in the small hope that Ranpo would eat at least a little bit. But, it didn’t work, and Ranpo began to lose weight he didn’t have to spare, and Fukuzawa grew more worried.

The second issue was that Ranpo had stopped sleeping, or if he even did get to sleep, it was restless and poor. Several times, Fukuzawa had woken up to find Ranpo awake and on the couch, tired eyes focused on the television, and none of those times had he managed to convince the boy to go back to his futon and attempt to get some rest. The first night it’d happened, Fukuzawa hadn’t known, although he had noticed the eyebags that slowly got worse the more time passed. Now, on the fourth and fifth nights, Fukuzawa had sat at the dining table, just watching Ranpo and providing him with some company. No words were ever said, and Ranpo never told him to leave, but he never seemed to acknowledge Fukuzawa either.

The third issue was the fear. And admittedly, it was the hardest for Fukuzawa to manage, because anytime he tried to approach Ranpo to try and find out what was wrong and whether he could help, Ranpo just froze, and that haunted look emerged from whatever dark corner of Ranpo’s mind it originated from before the boy was fleeing from him, leaving Fukuzawa to stand there awkwardly wondering just what it was that he’d done wrong. There was a feeling, deep inside him, that told him that it wasn’t actually him that Ranpo was suddenly afraid of, but something or someone else that he didn’t know about. And he didn’t know which one scared him more.

With each issue just piling on top of the others, it wasn’t a surprise when Ranpo fell ill. Fukuzawa woke up on the sixth day to find Ranpo curled up in the bathtub of all places, face flushed red from fever, with the shower spraying his body.

“Oh Ranpo…” He sighed, running a hand down his face before reaching over to turn the shower off so to stop the boy from giving himself hypothermia or, even worse, drowning himself. Ranpo shivered the moment the water stopped, and subconsciously curled into a ball. Fukuzawa didn’t hesitate to pluck Ranpo from the tub, ignoring the way that water dripped from sodden clothes onto the floor and carried the teen back to their shared room with the intention of getting Ranpo into some dry clothing and tucked into his bed. He only managed to get as far as undoing the first few buttons of Ranpo’s sleepshirt before Ranpo’s eyes flew open and he was promptly shoved away by the boy.

“Get away from me! Don’t touch me!” Ranpo scrambled to get away, going until his back pressed against the wall where he continued to shake and stare at Fukuzawa with pure, unadulterated fear.

Fukuzawa frowned and stepped forward to place a calming hand on Ranpo’s shoulder, only realizing his mistake too late. “Ranpo, it’s just me. I’m trying to—”

A tiny fist collided with Fukuzawa’s nose and he recoiled immediately, bring a hand to clutch at it. Ranpo curled up, and screamed at him. “Don’t touch me!”

Fukuzawa took a step back and blinked away the tears that had formed from being hit; Ranpo might not have held much power in that punch of his, but he’d landed it in just the right spot to make it really hurt. Once he could see clearly, he began to lower his hands, before thinking better and raising both of them so that they were visible to Ranpo. It was clear that Ranpo was spooked, and spooked bad, so he was willing to do anything to help lessen that fear no matter what it took. He slowly fell into a kneel a respectable distance from Ranpo. “You’re safe, Ranpo. Safe.”

Ranpo shook his head and pressed himself further into the wall. The movement caused his shirt to slip down and Fukuzawa froze.

A scar, long healed but still new, located on Ranpo’s shoulder, but that wasn’t what caused Fukuzawa’s dread. It was the fact that the scar was in the shape of human teeth that had Fukuzawa wanting to hunt down whoever had dared to leave such a mark and eviscerate them, leaving their corpse so unrecognizable that not even Ranpo would be able to solve it. Fukuzawa paused as realization dawned on him, gaining a little more understanding as to why Ranpo was so untrusting of others. Why he’d been so unsure about Fukuzawa’s intentions of taking him in.

And why, after an innocent visit to the doctor, was so scared of him.

The only issue is, while he has a better understanding, it still doesn’t help him understand how to help Ranpo now, not when he doesn’t know the whole story, and he knows that Ranpo will mostly likely never tell him; had probably never ever intended to tell him in the first place. Fukuzawa took a breath and shuffled backwards that little bit further, hands still raised until he sat cross legged and rested them—palms up—against his knees. “Ranpo. Can you look at me, please?”

Ranpo lifted his head just enough from where he was curled up, his eyes hazy from the fever, but still focused on him.

“I’m going to stand, and grab you a towel and some clothes to change into. Then I am going to leave the room. I will wait outside until you are ready for me to come back in. Okay?” Fukuzawa watched Ranpo carefully, doing his best to keep his expression calm. He could see Ranpo thinking, or trying to at least, despite the fever and exhaustion that was clouding the boys mind.

Finally, Ranpo nodded.

Fukuzawa kept his movements as he stood, leaving the room momentarily to grab a towel before he returned to the room. He made sure to move just as slow as he crossed over to the singular wardrobe and pulled out Ranpo’s most comfortable clothes, and carefully placed the clothes and towel in front of Ranpo without getting too close before backing away. And, still moving slowly, he left the room, taking care to shut the door behind him.

He’s just a boy. A child, and someone dared to leave such a mark. He sighed and slid down the wall, burying his face into his hands as he focused on just breathing and calming down from this newest discovery. Because for six days, he’d been so focused on trying to take care of Ranpo that he’d neglected to take care of himself and only just now, he realized just how much it was affecting him. Fukuzawa was exhausted, right down to his bones. It wasn’t an exhaustion like any other, brought on by all the stress and worry that he’d been doing because of Ranpo’s condition. But he tried to push that exhaustion away, because right now, Ranpo needed him at the top of his game, which meant that there wasn’t time for him to fall apart.

Not yet anyway.

The door cracked open after an hour, and Fukuzawa’s head shot up so fast from the light doze he’d found himself in, and stared into Ranpo’s eyes. There were many emotions running across Ranpo’s face right now; fear, uncertainty, acceptance, but mostly fear. Fukuzawa threw the boy a soft smile with the intent of making himself appear as less of a threat. As if I’d ever harm Ranpo in the way that someone else even dared to. If I ever find out who did that, I’ll use my sword on them. “If you’d like, we can keep the door between us for now.”

Ranpo shrugged, and the door opened a little wider. An invitation. “You saw.”

“I did.” Fukuzawa made no attempt to get up and enter the room.

Ranpo fidgeted uneasily.

“How about I grab some medicine for that fever of yours, and then—”

“You aren’t going to ask?” Ranpo interrupted, hands clutching at the door in a white knuckled grip. He was afraid, scared of being forced to talk about it before he was ready to.

“I want to help you.” Fukuzawa began, rising to his feet slowly. “So I would like to ask you about it. But, I am aware that is probably something incredibly traumatic and hard to talk about, so I will not force you to talk. I will never force you, Ranpo.”

Ranpo let go of the door and disappeared inside of the room, and Fukuzawa made a quick stop to the kitchen to grab some fever medicine and water before also entering. Ranpo was sitting on his futon, arms wrapped around his legs and the hood of the hoodie he was wearing pulled over his head. The boy continued to shake, but it was no longer from cold, but from the coming conversation. Fukuzawa knelt on his own futon and held out a couple of pills and the water. “For your fever.” He explained when Ranpo stared at them.

Ranpo nodded and swallowed the medicine. A silence fell between the two of them, and Fukuzawa waited for Ranpo to be the first to say something. “The doctor made me remember things. About life before you and I met. Bad things.”

“I see. So that is why you’ve been unwell?” Fukuzawa asked.

“Yeah.” Ranpo admitted, and tightened his grip on himself. “I don’t want to tell you about it, but… you’ve been trying to help me without knowing what’s wrong, and, so, you deserve to know.”

“Ranpo.” Fukuzawa waited for the teen to lift his head and look at him. “I only want you to tell me if it what you want to do. Not because you feel like you have to tell me.”

Ranpo ducked his head again. “It’s not like you haven’t been able to figure out part of it at least.”

Fukuzawa nodded, because had figure out part of it, but he also didn’t want to assume anything in case he was completely off base, but from Ranpo’s words alone, it appeared his initial thoughts had been correct—as much as he’d wanted them to not be true in the first place. “Then if you want to tell me, I will listen. Would you like to be hugged?”

He watched as Ranpo thought about it before he shuffled over to wrap his arms around Fukuzawa and hide his face into his yukata, letting out a shaky breath. Fukuzawa waited a moment to return the embrace, first laying a hand on Ranpo’s shoulder to make sure that the boy was actually comfortable with being touched before he hugged Ranpo tight. Ranpo tensed underneath him, but relaced into the hug after a moment.

“Winter’s harsh in Yokohama, especially when you have to spend it sleeping in the warmest alleyway you can find.” Ranpo whispered after a moment, although in the silence encompassing the room, it was the loudest sound in existence. “Well, street life is hard in general, you know, lack of food and friends, and there’s a lot of mean people who are also in the same boat as you, but winter is the hardest because you are always cold, and a lot of people die. No one is kind during winter.”

Fukuzawa hummed to show he was listening.

“But you know… I’m a young boy that just so happens to look pretty… pretty enough to attract attention.” Ranpo shuddered in the embrace, and Fukuzawa ran a hand down his back to soothe him. “I saw another street kid once. He went with some rich guy and came back dressed in in proper winter clothes. He was pretty too, so I gave it a try because I was cold and hungry.”

Ranpo stopped talking, and Fukuzawa had to fight to keep himself still, his heart pounding in his chest the longer that Ranpo spoke.

“I just didn’t realize what I’d have to do to get the nice things.”

Fukuzawa couldn’t stop himself from holding Ranpo just that little tighter, struggling to come to terms with how despicable some humans could be. Since the war, the amount of homeless youth had increased drastically, so he wasn’t surprised to learn that some of them had had to resort to such measures just to survive, but to learn that Ranpo was one such youth… it hurt more than it had to see a gun trained on the boy back at the warehouse the day they’d first met. He wished that he could go back in time to protect the boy from ever having to offer himself up just to get food, but he couldn’t. All he could do was listen, and help Ranpo now. “You should never have gone through that. You are just a child, and someone dared to take advantage of that.”

“Yeah, well, it happened. Can’t really change that. It’s not that bad really, all I have is a scar.” Ranpo shrugged, but despite the boys dismissive words, Fukuzawa could feel his yukata starting to get suspiciously damp, so he held Ranpo closer.

“No, we can’t change it, no matter how much we would like to.” Fukuzawa murmured. “But I promise you, that it will never happen again. You are safe here, Ranpo, safe with me, and if we ever run into the person who took advantage of you, he will regret ever doing so in the first place.”

His words caused Ranpo to laugh, and the boy pulled away to wipe his eyes with his sleeves. Ranpo didn’t say anything, but the relief on his face was enough evidence to tell Fukuzawa just how the boy was feeling. And Fukuzawa himself felt relieved after hearing Ranpo laugh, to know that despite all the pain and stress he’d been going through these last six days with the memories he’d been reliving, that there was still hope of him being able to overcome it.

Out of all the things he’d learnt about Ranpo so far, this wasn’t what he’d been expecting.

He just hoped that it would be the worst of what he could possibly learn.

[nudne]

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

[fandomfluffandfuck]

I received a lovely anon message regarding thoughts about their own feelings and possibly Sebastian's feelings about body image. I'm going to put the ask itself as well as my answer to it below the cut for possible triggers. Please don't read if it might harm you, take care of yourself <3

National Eating Disorders Association Helpline: 1-800-931-2237

National Suicide Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255

TW for: body dysmorphia, weight issues, disordered eating & eating disorders, bullying, etc.

Sweetheart, it entirely and completely sucks that you were ever teased for your weight. Kids are brutal. Teasing for anything and everything: accents, being overweight, being too thin and scrawny, too short, too tall, having glasses, having big, curly hair, being smart, being dumb, etc.

I hope you're able to fight through and deal with your feelings in a positive way. ❤ I'm sending all the kind, healing vibes I have your way. Along with a hug from me that you can pass onto Sebastian for us.

It sucks that so many people - including yourself and Seb - are teased for their weight. It's awful and it causes so much damage for people, more than people think on the surface level, I believe.

And yeah, in Sebastian's case, I imagine it would cause a lot of really huge, really hard to deal with emotions. Exactly as you described; going from a chubby teenager to a slim adult thrust into the Hollywood light and expected to constantly be in the best shape, camera ready, regardless of if it's sustainable or not. Putting aside his own mental health for the look. And likely undoubtedly comparing himself to his co-stars (especially in the Marvel universe where everyone is in "superhero shape"). I can't imagine all the discomfort and pain it's dug up for him, bringing up things that I'm sure he wasn't even aware he had issues with.

Hopefully he'll be able to take rolls that he can give his body a rest for soon because God knows he's a busy little bee who won't stop working anytime soon. And hopefully he's still with a therapist who can help him untangle all that's going on in his head, body image related or otherwise.

To hopefully make you feel less alone and do a piece of my part to de-stigmatize men and body image/eating related issues:

I too have had my fair share of body issues, although different to what you're describing. I've had the other side of the coin.

As a kid I was always thin and frail seeming and I developed an eating disorder really early on, pairing it with extremely dangerous exercise habits as I tried (and failed) to maintain the "desirable" thinness that I had while also wanting to gain muscle and be more "traditionally masculine" looking. Which quickly turned into terrible a cycle of hating my appearance, avoiding mirrors, counting then cutting calories, all while upping my workouts, blacking out and constant shivering, still feeling like nothing changed, I hadn't gained muscle or lost fat, and... yeah. Only after a few years did somehow, some switch flip in my head (come to think of it, it probably was because I suddenly went through a different kind of darkness in my life that what I had lived with previously), and my experience mutated viscously into binge eating (eventually binging and purging) but it didn't last super long- I went back, consumed entirely by the disorder, to the first type of I had. Then things changed and my life looked a hell of a lot better than it ever had. I gradually had a fade in those terrible voices and got better. I don't really know how or why, otherwise I would say so, if anyone reading needs the help themselves.

However, I'm still recovering and I kind of assume it's going to be a voice in my head forever. But I'm better. Much better.

Anyway, yeah, that shit gets ugly and uncontrollable fast. You're not alone in the experience, there is always help.

Thank you for the ask and no worries, you didn't trigger anything for me or make me feel bad. I just wanted to ensure everyone can have a good experience. Trigger warnings are the least I can do, y’know?

[9tzuyu]

dissolve (rewrite)

natasha x reader

note: this was just a huge vent fic idk. these type of fics seem to be the only thing im okay at writing. mistakes are mine as always. but i did proofread, yay!

if you want to read the original (as awful as it is) you can read it here!

wanrings: this heavily revolves around eating disorders.

i’m not tagging anyone because the content isn’t really the lightest to read.

words are used everyday, everywhere – whether to describe something or someone. there’s thousands upon thousands of them.

so you were having a hard time figuring out why you were struggling so much to justify your feelings through the basis of words. it was unnerving, draining and very annoying. your emotions should be simple, right? you were either sad or happy, angry or scared. but there was something more, something unexplainable. saying you felt alone only scratched the surface of the wave of emotion that took over. it was excruciatingly painful, far worse than any physical pain you ever had to endure. and for some reason it seemed to come crashing down at night while natasha slept peacefully. you weren't exactly sure how to express your emotions to the extent you felt them. how else was anyone supposed to understand your pain? they couldn't, not unless they could somehow shift into your body and feel your emotions themselves. but that was merely impossible as such powers do not exist. so you were inevitably stuck with words foreign to your lips. over the years you were deemed unsafe, a hazard, "an accident waiting to happen" you recall one doctor say. everyone’s eyes were on you at all times, monitoring every little movement you made. it was suffocating and at times doing more damage than good.

as an adult now you learned how freeing it could be without the fear of gaining weight or eating a bowl full of rainbow marshmallow cereal. your worth was not defined by your weight.

(at least that's what you believed prior to any relapses.) everything was going well in your life. you were a college graduate working as a psychiatric nurse and you had found love, something your teenage self could only dream of. natasha was by your side through everything. and really, the only downfall in the relationship was that she had to travel a lot for her job. but you were secure enough in your relationship not to worry or decide to call things off. in the end natasha always made up for it when she came back, so you couldn't complain too much. things were going well for you, really, they were. until they weren't. (and you didn't know why.) it happened out of nowhere. work was a little more stressful than usual, but it was nothing you couldn't handle. natasha had been away for three months, only stopping by a few times to check in on you. but again, your wife being away for so long wasn't anything new or worrisome. the two of you had followed the routine of her leaving and coming back more than a thousand times; yet somewhere along the way you lost yourself. food became less of a priority, your hunger decreased drastically, and within the first month you'd lost thirteen pounds. it truly was an accident, slipping into a full blown relapse was never part of the plan. but thirteen pounds lighter you wanted more, to feel small again. you didn't have an answer as to why you became so attached to your eating disorder, but it didn't seem like it would be letting go any time soon. the rate at which you were going natasha would most definitely be able to see a difference; not only on your weight, but in the person you once were. she'd ask what happened and why it happened, poking and prodding for an answer, but you didn't have one. so here you stood in the kitchen of your shared home, a cup of sliced fruit in one hand and your cell phone in the other. you poured the fruit into the bottom of a blender along with a spoonful of yogurt and half a cup of soy milk. another half cup of ice followed suit. while the fruit blended, you shamelessly scrolled through your instagram. there was nothing interesting going on in other people's lives, you didn't even know why you had social media in the first place. it was dumb, and quite frankly you didn't give a shit whether or not sharon went to the beach. the sound of your blender coming to a halt brought your attention back to the real world. you poured your smoothie into your water bottle. the green liquid would be your breakfast and lunch for the day - dinner was still up for debate. a soft sigh left your lips. work was beginning to feel more like a chore and less of something you enjoyed. you were quickly growing tired of it. nonetheless, you grabbed your keys and rushed out of the door.

you thought about the irony of working as a psychiatric nurse with an undealt eating disorder telling teenagers how to deal with their own issues. you felt hypocritical to say the least, especially given that all the nasty side effects were starting to make themselves known.

your hair was beginning to thin, small clumps of it already starting to fall out when you tugged a little too hard. bruises could be seen scattered left and right on your body, and you were cold. god you were cold. your fingernails were tinted blue, warmth seemingly too far out of reach. you looked ill, and it didn't go unnoticed by your coworkers.

a few hours into your shift you found yourself sitting behind the nurses station filling out paperwork. lunch had passed and when your coworker, steve, asked if you were going to eat something you lied straight through your teeth, telling him you'd grab something when the patients were eating dinner.

but steve rogers could read you like an open book. he knew you were lying because he already knew what was going on. the signs of an eating disorder were quite obvious when you were a licensed therapist. and despite your futile attempts at hiding it, everyone could tell something wasn't right.

steve played it by ear for weeks until he contacted natasha, but by then you'd already lost a considerable amount of weight. as soon as she heard the news, natasha booked the next flight home. unfortunately for her though, there was only one flight and she would have to wait two and a half weeks before being able to leave.

you didn't know it, but those were the longest two and a half weeks natasha ever had to wait.

– patients were having group therapy, so you could tune them out - not that you should, but it was hard to focus when the only two things you could think about were food and your weight.

the need to lose weight sounded so stereotypical for someone with an eating disorder, but honestly it wasn't about that. it was never about wanting to be thin. you genuinely didn't know why this was happening. the only thing you noticed was how rewarding it felt seeing the number go down, as if for you were good for becoming less. it was addictive. and it didn't help that you based your entire worth on how much you could lose.

the next time you stood up from behind the nurses station steve met you in the the cafeteria. while the patients ate you took occasional sips from your smoothie. the bottle was still full of its contents from the morning. you had completely forgotten to drink it during the day, but you didn't seem to mind it that much.

the surprise touch of steve's hand on your shoulder startled you.

i am gross, you thought. do not do that.

steve caught onto the slight flinch your body produced as a reflex, but he didn't say anything about it.

"you can leave early, boss said so."

he laughed as he saw confusion plaster your face.

"what? no!"

"go home, seriously. we have this handled. you know tony doesn't like being told no."

you bit your lip, puzzled by the sudden request. most people wouldn't mind being sent home early, but all it did for you was give you a level of anxiety reserved for food.

what you didn't know was that natasha was home waiting for your arrival. she came back just short of an hour after you left for work.

while you were gone natasha made a few thorough rounds in the house looking for key signs of your eating disorder. there was bound to be evidence given that you didn't know she was home.

unsurprisingly, natasha found a glass scale beside the counter of the bathroom floor along with empty bottles of laxatives in the trashcan. the food in the fridge had been expired a few days past their date, giving her the indication that you weren't eating as much as you should be. her concern grew even more when she found your food journal on your nightstand. flipping the pages, natasha could see that throughout the moths she'd been gone your calorie intake had decreased significantly.

guilt began to gnaw at the back of her throat.

during the few days natasha stopped by, she hadn't noticed anything wrong with you. but then again she knew most people with eating disorders were very good at hiding them up until the point they were discovered. three days wasn't near enough time for her to catch onto your tricks, not when her mind was still focused on her job.

natasha always listened intently whenever you would talk about your eating disorder, the first time being six months into the relationship on a date you felt like you had ruined.

but talking about it was much different than experiencing it with you, natasha had never done that before up until now. she read nearly every article there was about anorexia, bulimia, binge eating disorder and ednos. sometimes when you were asleep she would watch documentaries on the disorder, always making sure to keep her volume at a low level.

the videos that hurt her the most were the ones teenagers struggling with the simple task of eating food.

(although natasha knew it wasn't that simple.)

it hurt because she knew that was you at some point in time.

upon your arrival, natasha cooked dinner. she wanted to hold onto the one sliver of hope that steve was wrong - that he was just overreacting - but she knew in her heart he was right about his assumption. however, dinner would only confirm what natasha so desperately wanted to deny.

when you walked through the door you were greeted with the overwhelming scent of food. you cringed at the thought of having to eat, but as soon as you looked up to see the redhead who'd been gone for so long your frown was washed away. a wide smile overtook your face and you rushed to jump into natasha's arms.

"i missed you so much," you whispered. "i thought you'd be gone for another few weeks?"

natasha's arms found their way around your waist as your legs wrapped around hers. "what? i can't come home early to surprise my wife?" you giggled in the crook of her neck. she smiled feeling the vibrations against her skin, happy to know that you'd missed her just as much as she missed you.

she sat you down, back facing you, she tended to the food. "you've lost weight," she commented, not missing the sharp inhale of your breath.

"how was work, nat?"

she nodded to herself. yeah, she didn't expect you to be so open on the first try.

"it was fine. dinner's ready, i made your favorite!" natasha threw a smile in your direction as she carried the plates over to the table. she had hoped to see your face light up the way it used to, but seeing the panicked look in your eyes further confirmed your relapse.

if nothing else, natasha wanted you to have a meal before she brought up the conversation.

"great... i love it, thank you nat!" your attempt at being enthusiastic failed miserably and you knew by the look she gave you, she already knew what was going on.

but throughout the meal, and despite the shakiness of your hand as it gripped the metal fork, natasha didn't say anything.

you weren't really sure which was worse; being confronted or knowing the both of you knew what the other was thinking and still not addressing it.

natasha's meal was good, you couldn't lie about that, but each bite you chewed caused the tightening in your chest to constrict further.

now you couldn't be good. or worthy. or deserving.

nat took away your plate when you were halfway through. she knew your limits, and she didn't want to push you too much out of your comfort zone.

"go change, i'll wash our dishes. meet you on the couch?"

you did as you were told, taking as long as you could to do so. except this time was different. you didn't glance in the mirror like you usually did, you chose to fully take in your figure.

what you saw was not what you expected to see. for the first time in months you saw a version of yourself that wasn't twisted and turned to be something you didn't know was real or not.

your skin was dry, hair thinned out beyond your belief, eyes sunken and dark underneath. the revelation gave you an odd feeling – was once again something unexplainable, unjustifiable by words.

good.

that was how you were supposed to feel, right? after all of this time, after the many pounds of protection and warmth lost, you were supposed to feel good.

but you didn't. and you never would.

there was something so surreal about the realization of your own destruction. you were aware now, which meant you had to either take responsibility or choose to lose everything you worked so hard for.

"y/n?"

your wife's voice snapped you out of your gaze and you scrambled to pile your dirty clothes and rush out of the bedroom.

as you made your way into the living room you could feel the intensity of natasha's gaze. any other time you would not mind her green eyes looking at you, but this time around you felt like you were in trouble.

she patted the empty spot next to her, to which you reluctantly joined. but even after everything you still tried to play it cool.

"what's up? is everything okay?"

she gave a low chuckle, "you tell me."

"what do you mean?"

"oh i think you know what i mean."

natasha’s reply was met with the loudest silence you ever had to sit through.

she bit her lip, "you know i got a call from steve a few weeks ago. he's concerned about you, and from what he's told me so am i."

you were quick to respond, automatically knowing what steve’s phone call was about. "i'm fine. so what if i've lost a couple of pounds? that doesn't automatically mean that im relapsing, natasha."

your quick snap reminded natasha that this kind of confrontation was like walking on eggshells.

she tilted her head, licking her lips. "i'm here with you, always." nat put a hand to the side of your face, gently rubbing her thumb at the top of your cheekbone. "i'm here."

it seemed pointless now to try and say anything because your secret was already out.

your mind began racing back and forth.

you wanted to keep what you knew best and natasha understood that. even by reading your body language she knew what you were debating.

"you know, to keep it you have to give it away." your eyes darted to meet hers. "mhm. you can still have that piece of you. mourn it, grieve it, do whatever you need to do to move onto a stage where it doesn't hurt you. and from there you can help other people, share your experience, let yourself heal by helping others."

she paused, “we all have choices. some of those choices are taken from you while others leave you with only one option.”

although what she said seemed to resonate with you, there was one thing still holding you back.

"i just want to be good."

natasha hummed. you had explained it to her in the past, though your words were jumbled together as you tried to describe it.

"you can be good in other ways. you're allowed to live a life outside of the barriers your eating disorder puts in the way."

you swallowed the lump in the back of your throat. "i don't even know how it got to this point. in january i enjoyed ihop and dennys. in february i could have oatmeal and bananas, sometimes half of a sandwhich if i was feeling brave. now it’s march and i only eat one or two things a day. the idea of having a full meal makes me want to cry. and i just- i don't know how to stop."

natasha wouldn't show it, but your words cut through her heart like a knife. her mind wandered briefly to all the teenagers in the documentaries she'd watched, hoping you weren't too far gone into your eating disorder to ever come back. those cases scared her the most.

"you've got my complete support. you've tackled this before, maybe this time you can beat it? i know its easier to abuse your body instead of growing comfortable in it, but i think you’ve got this. i know you do."

"what about your work?" your question caused natasha to frown. "you think i wouldn't set my job aside for you?" you shrugged, it's not like you felt like you were worth being taken care of anyway.

natasha grew hesitant to tell you her news, but did it anyway because she’d rather you hate her than see you dead. "i've already made some appointments for you. the first one is tomorrow morning."

"i figured you would natasha. it's okay."

you spaced yourself out the rest of the day. each time you made the executive decision to recover, whether that be a genuine recovery or not, the process never failed to remind you that even trying to recover from an eating disorder felt like mourning the loss of a friend who was never good for you in the first place.

[anonymous-swiftie]

If you are on twitter, please retweet this:

https://twitter.com/ASwiftie00/status/1334245577933148164?s=19

Dear #Swifties,

I'm new on tumblr, and I really don't know how to use it.

I know you are the best supporters of the music industry and I'm here to ask your help.

I'm fighting with a crippling depression, that due this covid situation just got worse.

I'm at my lowest, I truly don't know if I will make it through this time.

I always dreamed to talk to Taylor, since I was a teenager. She is the only one that make me feel like I do fit in this world.

I've created this account because I know she is very active here, and I'm trying to reach her with this part of my story.

You can read everything below.

I didn't write any personal information because I don't want this to be seen by my family or somebody that can recognise me.

I don't want upset anyone.

I know that everyone hope to meet or chat with her, and so you are probably wondering why you have to share this here.

You're totally right, maybe it's a stupid idea to ask you this, but I haven't anything left in my pocket to fight this situation, and you're my only hope right now.

Thank you.

#taylor #swift

*******************************************

Dear Taylor,

I keep writing and deleting this, over and over again.

I feel so dumb to write my personal story here, but this truly is my last chance to feel better and try to overcome this giant monster called depression.

I genuinly don't know if I can make it through this year. It's the worst period of my entire life and i don't even know if it's worth living this hell anymore.

I know you have millions of supporters (that probably write you every single day, and they are all better fans than I am, that's for sure) but I know that you proved, time after time, to be so down to earth and to use your time to read your fans messages.. so, in this moment, I'm just trying to share a part of my story with you.

You are the one that make feel understood, since I was like 13teen.

I'm so sorry if my English isn't very good but I'll do my best.

I'm not very active on social media , because I'm very shy when I have to talk about myself.. but If this could work, I must do it.

I will try to send a letter, If I can find the strength to mark this feeling on paper.

**IF I'M WRITING TO SOMEBODY FROM HER STAFF, PLEASE JUST LET THIS MESSAGE REACH TAYLOR**

I'll try now to resume, because I don't want to bother you too much.

This has been a crazy year so far, and the all the time I spent by myself during the lockdown didn't help at all.

This situation brought me back to childhood.

I spent a lot of my days back and forth in hospitals, due to my allergies.

I had to wear a mask all the time I wanted to go outside to avoid severe allergic reaction (that's why this Covid thing awakened some hurting memories)

I didn't have real friends back then, 'cause I've spent most of the summers at home, watching other kids playing around, from my window, or from the windows of my classroom.

It was so hard to make new friends, because the only thing that other kids saw was my mask.

I was the masked kid.

I was the strange kid.

I couldn't play with them.

Everytime I tried to play with them, the only thing I heard was "oh you are ill , I don't wanna be like you so stay away".

This situation made me start to write things in my personal diary.

I wrote small sentences, as a kid, and that was the only thing I could do alone inside an empty classroom during all summer.

This situation continued  for many years.

I wasn't the cool kid before, I wasn't the cool guy after.

The only things that let me enjoy those days were writing and listening to your songs.

I started to listen to your music thanks to my English teacher. She was a fan of folk and country music and she gave me a pic in which you were singing near a lake (I still have that photo somewhere, I strongly remember the white banner with your name written in red on it) and told me to listen to the cd she gave me that day.

I immediately fell in love (I think I still have a crush on you, I'm sorry).

I loved your album. I loved your voice. I loved the lyrics.

I remember having a "test" in school: each one of the class had to write their favourite lyrics and let the others guess the song.

If the someone guessed It, We could play the cd.

I chose Love Story and I translated it in Italian.

The class guessed the song, and I played it.

After the lunch break I went back to my desk and I saw some bullies that were breaking my cd-album and they started to laugh at me because I loved your music an I loved writing poems.

I was a boy so I was a loser because I enjoyed those things.

That felt terrible, but I continued to love your songs even more .

Those were my inspiration to write and to study english.

I felt so good when I listened to your album and this still happens.

Then I went to a private high-school.

Nothing changed, I still was the nerd guy that always got good grades and I have to say that the first year was quite good, but the second year was the start of the apocalypse.

I choose that school because two girls that I knew from childhood went there.

One of the cool new guys started to spread a fake "news" about me.

He said to everyone that I was the boyfriend of one of the two girls that I mentioned before.

So he was the cool guy and one of the girls believed him and told me to f*** myself.

The other girl was her best friend, so you could imagine by what happened next.

After 14 year spent together, I was nobody.

I didn't have "friends" in that class anymore.

I didn't say hello to anybody for 4 years, and nobody would say anything to me.

Nobody to talked with me.

That's great when you're a teenager.

I hated to wake up every morning.

I had an eating disorder, I lost like 22pounds in less than a month. Got hospitalized twice. I kept vomiting for 3 years, every single morning before school.

During that time I only talked with one of my cousins, who lived like 2 hours by car from me.

He was older than me but he always tried to help.

He knew that I loved to write poems so he started to give me guitar lessons.

I made it through a lot of things thanks to him.

I'm sorry, It's hard for me to write this part of the story.

I still get emotional when I think about this.

On the 10TH of December 2013 (some days after his birthday) we received a phone call from his mother: She warned us that he didn't return home after the last working shift.

I wrote a message to him like 3 hours prior to that phone call.

Never had the opportunity to get a reply again.

This year is the seventh year that he is missing.

That destroyed me.

I felt empty.

I felt like nothing couldn't help me.

I still feel that everytime I care about someone in my life, it will disappear someday.

This have happened several other times.

You know when ignorants say that men don't cry, is real bullshit. Men cry. I cried a lot.

I wrote so many poems , lyrics, thoughts in that period of time, that I destroyed my hands.

That was the only way to close my eyes and let me reach another reality because the real one was way too much for me.

Be a sensible man in this world is somehow a curse.

All these things made me afraid  even to hug someone 'cause I feel I'm too ugly or just to scared to be refused.

I will stop here my story, but there's so much more to tell.

I make it through all of these things and memories because I keep dreaming that one day I could meet you and we could talk together.

Dreaming about the fact I could spend a day with you made me find the power to battle my depression.

I'm 25 now and this year I'm not dreaming anymore.

I was going to start again university, I wanted to get a degree in marketing and have the chance to live in the us.

For years I believed that I would make it and hopefully be part of your marketing team.

I'm so stupid. All these years I kept dreaming to avoid pain.

I wanted to pursue my passion and continue to write lyrics but all I was doing was putting myself in unrealistic realities.

This covid situation made everything clear.

When everyone had someone to facetime (or video call) I was alone.

When everyone had someone asking them "how are you?" I only had myself looking in the mirror saying: "Will I ever feel better?"

I've never been the one for anybody, and I think I'll never be.

I won't be the one among all your fans to realize his dream.

Nobody likes me, and I'm exposing myself once again just because I want the opportunity to smile at something that could happen to me.

I'm tired to smile only for others best moments.

I've always seen the sun through a window.

I want to feel happy.

I want to burn my face with the sun.

I'm so sick of hiding my pain,

sick to cry when I'm alone in my car before going to work,

sick to let my eyes rain on my pillow every night.

I'm sick to say to my mother that I'm fine, just because I don't want to make her feel bad.

It's not her fault.

She is battling with a degenerative autoimmune disease, why I should put other weight on her shoulders?

I didn't give up to my weakness before because I don't want to hurt her.

I always say to her that soon she will feel better, that's why your song It's stuck in my head.

But when she won't be here anymore, how I can go through all of that?

I don't even know if will ever get better for me.

Will this pain ever stop?

Sometimes it's so hard to live and so easy to die.

Hope that my dream to spend some time with you can become true.

Thank you for everything, you gave me the strength to go on for many years.. But this time is so hard to put on my armor and continue this battle.

But is this even worth if thy I try to surround myself with people and I always feel lonely?

D.

@taylorswift @taylornation @jackleopards-thedolphinclub

[plagg-supremacy]

Coming in here just to rant because it's the only place I feel comfortable to do it... But anyways, fair warning this rant is about food, eating disorders, restrictive diets, etc

Recently I've been trying to change my eating habits, I'm overweight (just a couple kilos away from obesity) and I don't feel comfortable with my body anymore so I've decided to "diet" but not really I'm just trying to eat healthy and not overeat, as well as walking more and I'm actually losing weight my clothes are already not fitting me anymore and I've had to sew a couple of inches in the waist of my pants just so they can stay on! lmao my right knee doesn't hurt anymore, and my bowel movements are so much better... I'm just feeling healthy and better I guess

But all of that gets a bit shadowed with bad memories I have from my childhood, I've always been fat since I was a child. My family doesn't have healthy habits, I think maybe once they had them because all my siblings were skinny as children and so were my parents however by the time I was born my siblings were teenagers and literally all my family was overweight. At some point during my childhood my mom was diagnosed with diabetes, so she and my oldest sister freaked out about my weight (for good reasons, like I understand ofc) so they took to our family doctor who told them to take me with a nutritionist.

At the time I didn't know any better so I followed everything the nutritionist told me but today I feel a little resentment towards her and my family. At 8 years old I was put in such restrictive diets that NOW i know I shouldn't have been put in. I also resent my family because they never tried to change *their* habits, it was always their lunch/dinner and M's lunch/dinner, I even had a different schedule than them. They should have tried, now I know we all should have been eating the same thing but instead I felt so left out.

And my diets were absurd, I wasn't allowed to eat bread or tortillas (I'm Mexican) I literally spend years eating just boiled chicken for lunch, I couldn't eat not a piece of candy ever. I was told to not eat cake when I was invited to birthday parties. I couldn't even have a whole piece of fruit. I remember I started eating "forbidden" foods around 10yo without my mom knowing, I would go to my auntie's house and beg her for a bag of chips. And yes I actually loss weight, and reached my "goal" considering I was growing it wasn't that hard. However at 12 i decided it was enough and i refused to keep going with the nutritionist, and keep following those stupid diets but now I was a teenager with a bad relationship with food who had had half a childhood with restrictions around everything food related so of course I ended up binge eating.

By the time I was 16 I was almost 90kg (I'm 1.65m so yeah) so I decided going into dieting again, this time it was me who decided it. And once again the freaking restrictive diets, except this time it was even less food considering I was older but my portions were being very similar to those from my childhood. I would be hungry all the time, but I wasn't even allowed to eat snacks (you know like fruit, or yoghurt or smt) I think I loss like 20kg which left me around 70kg, I was good by the time I left for uni.

But then I stared uni, which was stressful and I was away from home and everything was new and I didn't know how to cook, heck I didn't even have where to cook. And I'm also discovering that oh I'm autistic and my complete life is a mess and I couldn't care less about what I'm eating or my weight or if I'm healthy. I just want some pizza or tacos after being awake for 48hrs. I put on a lot of weight in those 5 years, like 40kg.

And now I'm back in my hometown, living with my parents and my sister. And both my parents are having health issues due to not having good eating habits, and I want to change but at the same time I know my whole life my relstionship with food has been fucked up and I've spent days reflecting on all those fucking diets from my childhood and how i don't wanna go back to a nutritionist that will tell me it's my fault being this fat and then will go ahead to basically make me starve myself with some fucking 1200kcal diet.

Except now I understand biology and metabolic pathways, and nutrients groups, and I decide that I'll start eating healthy or something but I WON'T go to a nutritionist.

So I start researching and looking around the internet, and like I understand the only way to lose weight is having a deficit regimen of course but if I was eating like literally 2500Cal I can start with like 2000 or 1900Cal and it will still be a deficit specially if I start being more active. There's not point in going directly to fucking 1200Cal. But at the same time I don't wanna spend my day counting my calories so really just go by eating low calorie foods that have big volume and are filling (I love me some salad lmao). And like I've found a good rythme that works for me but there's still some shit that bothers me.

Like if you go anywhere near dieting, losing weight or getting fit spaces you'll find countless amount of people literally SCARED of the "calories" in seasonings and that always makes get a flashback to that fucking boiled flavorless chicken from my childhood. Or if you try to search how to stop drinking soda, it always say to just stop buying it and to never have it in your house so you're not "tempted" and to just "not drink it". And it's always about having cheat days and if it's not a cheat day you can't eat anything that's even a bit "unhealthy". It's your mom's birthday? Sorry but it's not your cheat day so you can't it a piece of cheesecake 🤷🏻‍♀️ and it's like reliving all of my traumas.

And the most ironic part it's that I tried that, I tried not buying any soda or chips but it just made me anxious, I was sweating all the fucking time thinking "I want some" and I would literally almost have meltdowns over it. But then on my next grocery shopping trip I said fuck it and I got some cans of my favorite beverages, some chips and a couple of candy bars. I put them on my fridge and on my pantry and the feeling was so nice seeing them there, thinking to myself "no one is forbidding me to eat tem, I can eat them in moderation every once in a while" and then I proceeded to go like 6 weeks without eating junk food even if they were right there in my house, in my pantry. Literally just two days ago I realized it, and I decided to drink some soda and I had some chips as a snack and that was it I didn't spend all those weeks getting angsty thinking how I couldn't eat them.

This post is a mess now I don't even know what I'm trying to say anymore but I just hate thinking about how right now somewhere there's probably a child getting their relationship with food so fucked up because some people have really no idea about nutrition even if they call themselves nutritionists, and I just hope everyone at some point finds a way to be happy and healthy. Also don't trust in "healthy influencers" they're the worst. Just take your time to learn how your body works and what it needs.

[kamomeee]

Pani9 Disorder Man（=panic disorder man）

　　　/ ENDRECHERI from NARALIEN

This song was born from Tsuyoshi Domoto's feelings about panic disorder.

From his radio

〜

When I was a teenager, I had a panic disorder, and even though I thought I was cured, I wasn't cured. After all, I still have sudden seizures ...

I think this is confusing because it is in the genre of mental illness.

For example, I am now deaf in my ears and have the aftereffect of acoustic impairment. (Due to sudden deafness)

It's similar to that ... it's that kind of body.

If you dismiss it as mentally weak or strong, the story becomes complicated again ...

that is, it may be easy to understand if we think for example, in such a situation, it tends to be like this.

I also have a bad knee...

It goes without saying that you are not good at running because you have a bad knee.

That's the same thing as panic disorder.

When people in the world look at it like that, I really think that there are many people who can live comfortably.

So without this panic disorder, I think I would have been able to do more and more, still.

You might still think this person is annoying, but I'm the most annoyed of this.

I would be spend very happy if I didn't have these symptoms.

This symptoms really annoying.

When we all have a lot of fun eating rice, sometimes we suddenly get panic symptoms, why? I think.

I can't control it myself, so other people can't control it more.

So I still think that if there wasn't something like panic disorder, I would have been able to do more various things.

I wrote a song called "Pani9 disoder man" on the album.

This song was written with the thought that if this "Panic disoder man" disappeared, I would have lived happier.

This is a very difficult bass because I programmed the bass line with a synth. and the bassist Wataru was having a hard time.

But he said he would play it because it's a cool bass riff.

But he told me not to play this song live.

It's a bit complicated as a base line, and it's hard to play as a bassist.

You can change the bass line someday, but if you change the bass line, the song will be a little different ...

I have this panic disorder that I find really annoying, and I wish I could have lived more like this without it.

I think people who are fighting like me now understand what I'm saying.

our lives are only once.

I hope that I will have as much time as possible to live with people who support and understand my attitude by admitting that I am.

[teevelkinevel]

the fantabulous emancipation of one teevelkinevel......

-stares at the screen blankly-

....I dont know Mom....the day before my birthday i would recap how the past 12 months were but i stopped after 2015 because it wasn't shit happening that was worth writing about...but.....2 years ago one really scary thing took place that ended up changing the rest of my life forever....patience was what i learned this year...im learning to have that more with myself and very little with others. .after a while i got tired of trying to explain shit to anyone who seemed to be stuck on misunderstanding what i was dealing with..but  you are who i figured i could be honest with over anyone else....i got a super short attention span so this will be all over the place.....

i got diagnosed with hyperthyroidism in 2016...aka graves disease...it's an auto immune disorder where you have an abnormal protrusion of the eyes and your neck swells from having an enlarged thyroid.....as hard as that was....for the first time i put myself first over anything else.if i wanted to live i had to..at the rate i was going i couldnt have cared less about if i survived or not but im still hanging and banging.....ive gotten more sleep in the past 10 months than i have in 13 years..i take vitamins..exercise.. eat healthy and do what i can to avoid as much bullshit as possible....i never knew how to do those things before but ive been learning how in stages... it's creepy at what toll stress can take on you physically when you dont know how to avoid it... PTSD/Bipolar disorder/manic depression...thats what the professionals diagnosed me with.its not as scary as it was before i actually knew what i came down with over the years....but it’s easier to deal with it by not talking about it....even thinking about this anxiety disorder gives me that shit.. ugh

i had the paranoia about not being 20 something anymore but the whole time i knew i was ready to turn 30...adulthood began on a really sad note..devastation and heartbreak is a bitch..i thought i was gonna go off and be where everyone else was....i thought so much shit was gonna happen when i left being a teenager behind but nothing went on that i expected to happen....puberty happened to me twice.. you always said if i wasnt gonna "show off" or "flaunt" my new frame i should have stayed my old size...but people react to shit differently..

losing so much weight did not make me fit in or bring anything i thought would happen.... nobody liked the fact that i had lost weight. everyone was mad at me for doing it..trying to put me on a guilt trip because it happened..and for a while i did feel bad about it.the attention that came along was not something i could deal with.. it's still annoying as hell now sometimes but for the most part ive learned to tune out the critics..

......remember back in 2003 when pops tried to kill himself in front of me? He blamed me and you for it. the stress behind that...i was pulling out parts of my hair and my eyebrows.... that was phase 2 of what caused my weight loss.. phase 3 was when i was dealing with this assclown you met who turned out to be a predator underneath that was gonna set me up to be raped since i wouldnt let him have his way or deal with him being manipulative or controlling trying to force me to think i was supposed to sleep with him...for almost 10 years i had a bad eating disorder  to make myself less attractive and i became really fucking creeped out by people period.thats part of the reason why that thyroid gland was damaged....like.. i dont think you are completely healed from an eating disorder but you can find other ways to cope with whatever issue it is.

Anyway.. walking across a plank.was something that creeped me out that i got over the paranoia of....i always think its gonna fall if i step on it but when i was touring Sacramento i took the chance and i made back and forth across without looking down at the water.... im not brave enough to walk across the golden gate bridge tho...if i go across ima have to walk back so im not ready for that yet....

regardless of how guilty everyone wanted to make me feel about everything  i kept my eyes on the prize..... your relatives all disowned me because i didnt want to be told what to do with shit that i knew how to do..like who doesnt know how to wash dishes? I didnt wanna be a punching bag neither. ...it's so many questions i would love to ask but since i wont get them answered i dont wanna focus on them....i became my own person… i'd like to believe thats what you wanted to be....

would you have turned your back on me and been ashamed of how i turned out in adulthood ? i did what i could do to protect your legacy and i paved my own lane at the same time...i fought as hard as i could...there is no way i could pay you back but i did all i could to try to grant your last wishes.......

for a while i found myself slipping into some things i would see you allow but ive learned to snap outta them and be a better person.i never forgot the last things you told me before you got sick..only depend on god...dont take any crap off of anybody..not pops or none of my brothers or anyones bullshit...never depend on a man or anyone for shit...you have yourself to depend on and nobody else.. and stand my ground at all times.

...i can see why pops drove you away from him tho.he’s been causing me harm since i was 2 years old..always bullying me because i wasnt one of his sons since he played favorites all the time with them.. he still does.... once and underdog always one..he wouldn’t give a shit about me if you were still here and he knows it... he has to live with being where he is now.. not me..i mean.. he raised us.he stayed on his job being a single parent the past 12 years.. but he’s let me down too many times. you know why he has..like why wait until after you ruined so much shit to try and pretend as if you care when you know you dont.... i dont expect anything from him anymore.... if i don’t i wont ever have to be disappointed again. thats with anybody nowadays ...

a lot of things you mentioned back then didnt make sense until i was older....so i understand a bit better now..if i need something to laugh at i can go back to look at some of my old photos of me in my geek kid days....i used to resent others who had stuff that i was a late bloomer on but it’s one thing i had that is the most precious of all even tho i didnt enjoy it... a childhood.....those days dont feel bad anymore...

i didnt get to give you a college degree but i dont regret not finishing.i found my niche elsewhere making others feel better about themselves with the power of transformation..back in 2013 i finished cosmetology school.bartending school too. happiness can be a glass away for some..hahaha....i survived all my teenage years and all my 20′s without being pregnant...i still remember how many people i slept with... no drug or alcohol issues.im not waking up in jail either..i still have my morals and dignity...like.i gave you that.. you should still be proud of me right?

i became an auntie for a second time.....jalil is 8 now... and i got a niece. Kyana is 3.everyone was surprised when Tre’sor told us he was having a kid...but he was 21 he could do what he wanted..she and Jalil changed all of our lives for the better when they came along.but they wont be spoiled tho.ever.all they gotta do is be good in school and not give their parental units a hassle and then when we can go have fun we will.....dealing with a girl is new for me since im more accustomed to boys but she thinks im cool...i give her sunglasses  to wear and take photos of her..im gonna teach her all of the stuff i had to learn the hard way so she wont feel deprived or like she cant do something because she is a girl... she can do anything and become all that she fuckin wants... being an aunt fits me fine...they think im a fucking rockstar.

something else i learned a long the way.. nothing really prepares you for adulthood....im not anywhere good at this shit..i havent made my bed in years....i’m working towards becoming my own body guard too...like.. boxing is a major stress reliever. i’d like to have proper training to use a gun one day too...i still dont have a budget to hire anyone to do things for me....so i had to teach myself how to do all kinds of things and wear many hats..sometimes wear them all at the same time....that may be why im so fucking paranoid about stuff when it isnt done.all i cant do yet is drive a car but one day i will..for now Uber can be my chauffer if i cant get there on public transportation....i wanna learn how to swim too.

Thank you for sending my 2 shrinks to me too...they seriously were my fairy god mothers....they helped me find a way to save myself..i really am my own worst enemy...everyone i met was in all the places i thought i was missing out on not being in....i wasnt as bad off as i thought i was... Before i understood what the path ive been on was teaching me... someone being braggy about what they had when i lost everything would have bothered me but nowadays when anyone does that petty shit i shrug it off...the empty wagon always makes the most noise....

I hope i used all of the things you sent to be my guide in the dark exactly how you wished i would when they came along...i hope i got rid of everyone and everything you wanted me to close the case on.. and i hope i kept everyone and everything around that you wanted me to... which leads me to my on again off again like affair with that man named Fred..

it’s been 10 years of me and him.. 6 of them was our season of being in like...i was so scared when we met.. like.. what if he was gonna try and pull what the last one before him did you know? overtime... he wasn’t creepy...he always seemed to be there for me...when i was in school... battling the depression and being suicidal...... he never tried to use either one against me to make it seem as if he was doing me a favor by dealing with me..i was at rest with him...he suffered from the same trauma that i did...i snuck him in my room once tho....but....i was 26.....so? i snuck out to go see him too....as if i was 16..... it’s crazy at how shit works..the one who was wrong got to see you but the one who actually was decent didnt get to....i havent saw him in almost 5 years but we still talk by phone sometimes...we’ll be friends forever.... im looking forward to better days whether i spend them with someone or not...so.. my like life with men is nonexistent for the moment.

i dont know how im gonna end this but it does feel fucking cool as shit to see another year.im actually excited to celebrate this one..

if you knew how much time you had to live before it’s time to go you wont fully able to....but for however much time i do have left.. im living the rest of it for me....i wanna go see the world outside of the one i have inside of my mind and embrace it for what it is..... all the fruits of my labor are gonna be enjoyed this time around....i lost the instinct to apologize for whatever i did that benefitted me...all the things i missed out on in my 20’s when i didnt know how to play the cards i was dealt is beginning to fall into place...all that matters is that i know im ok .you knew i would be too. and i am.....

i dont feel so control freakish anymore.but at the same time i feel more in control than i ever have before...if i keep searching for the end it will find me before i find it.. i quit paying attention to anybody who believed they were more in touch with me than i was..whether it was a relative or not...nothing has been taken personal from anyone who i have no personal interaction with..its nothing to lose and i have no want for more or less....

i guess thats how it’s supposed to be when your 33....it is what it is......

[thegirlwhohateschange]

The Plan

Picture it, New Year's Day, 2019. It shouldn't be too hard, it's still happening (at least, it's still happening where I am in the western hemisphere). I slept in, ran to the one open deli within walking distance for breakfast, came home, sat down, and decided to make a serious list of resolutions for the first time in my life.

Some background: 2018 sucked food most people. I am among them. I thought it was going to br the year where everything changed, and, in a lot of ways, it was. I could have specified that I meant good change.

I left my job of 13 years and moved home. 8 lived with my parents for a couple of months, then found a great new job and moved to a new city. I have a great apartment with a wonderful friend for a housemate and two, chubby, happy cats. All good things. Vastly superior to my 2017 life, I assure you.

However, while I value the life that I've built there are multiple, really important things I am lacking. I don't quite feel whole. Hence, the resolutions.

I made a list of 10 things that I wanted in the coming year. 10 things that I felt like I was missing. 10 things I don't want to have to wish for anymore. The first thing on that list was to try stuff.

That might sound incredibly stupid, and it is. Everyone tries things everyday, right? Not this little black duck. I listen to the same audiobooks and podcasts ad nauseam, watch the same movies and TV shows, go to the same places, and do the same things. The only thing I change on a regular basis is food, and that's only because it's one of the ways I handle my eating disorder (any other binge eaters out there?). I want my life to be different, but I keep doing the same things over and over again expecting them to somehow be better than they were before.

After I made the list today I did two things. I signed up for a burlesque dance course and I went to a sacred harp sing. I'll talk about the burlesque thing after the first class next week, but, for now I'm only going to talk about the sacred harp sing.

If you'd like to know what this phenomenally nerdy style of music is, check out

It has all the info you could possibly want. For here on out I'm going to assume you know everything there is to know about the sacred harp and shapenote music.

This sing was held at the house of one of the organizers odd the local singing. The woman only invited me a couple of days ago and I just decided to go today after making my list.

This is the second year she's held a singing at her house on NYD, and she had everything from wassail to loner books. Her house is about a 20 minute walk from mine, and it wasn't too cold so I made my way there around 3. The space was small and there were too many people in it... and yet... despite the fact that I'm incredibly awkward, despite the fact that I didn't sing every song perfectly, despite the fact that I hardly knew the host, let alone anyone else there...I had a great time.

Actually, it was even more than that. It was almost spiritual.

Now, to clarify something, I'm not Christian. I'm pagan. I sing sacred harp because it's something I've done since I was a young teenager. The music is weird and beautiful, it's sung in 4-part harmony, it's dark and brooding and cheerful and hopeful and I wish the words were a bit less about jesus.

So when I say I had a spiritual experience I don't mean I had a religious experience.

The singing itself was amazing. I was one of only two trebles and we were up against a wall of about 8 basses, not to mention 4 or 5 leads and 5 or 6 altos. We held our own though, and it just felt so good to sing. Even when I messed up, even when I flubbed the shapes or sang the first line of poetry instead of the second, I just felt... ok...safe... comfortable.

After we finished singing, the organizer lit a candle and asked us to share our hopes or goals for the new year. I did not share the list, but I participate and, in doing so, tried yet again. I told ther group how a friend of mine died last year, how, last January when I moved away from her, her business, and my life of more than a decade I told her that she wouldn't last a year without me. And she didn't. I said how I wanted to bring some of her spirit into 2019 with me, that I'd like to be more spontaneous and self-confident like she was, that I'd like to be more patient (a skill I wish she had learned). I was so vulnerable and so...embraced. I described it to my housemate as the feeling of being consoled after vomiting.

That alone would have been enough to make it a meaningful experience, but I actually realized something else when I got home. I was in the shower (duh, of course...I may have also been a little stoned) and I realized that, when I left, the woman hosting thanked me for coming. And she really meant it.

I think this is the first time in 34 years of existence that I actually felt like someone wanted me somewhere.

I have this problem where I can tell if people are being insincere. I can practically smell it on them (who knows, it could be pheromones). Tonight as I thanked this woman for inviting me I knew from her response that she really was happy that I came. That sent me into a quick, 7 minute sob in the shower, let me tell you.

Just by trying I not only found the peace and joy that comes with group harmony singing, I found the kind of connection I've been searching for all my life.

I don't expect it to be easy, I don't ever expect to find these feeling again, but I'm going to keep trying.