#underweight'' like that would only make everything worse

[ddeexxmm]

Its so joever for me bruh im 18 with no friends no job not in school no hobbies no goals no achievements

[artemismoorea03]

DP x DC: Original Serial Adopter

When Bruce adopted Dick Grayson the Media was in a frenzy. The billionaire and playboy adopting an orphan after some kind of freak circus accident? Nobody expected it to last more than a month. The media called this action an "Act of Charity".

Then a few years later he adopted Jason Todd. Jason was much more scrappy and after a while some media started calling him the "Wayne Stray".

When he took in Tim after Jason's "accident" they called Tim a rebound. But instead of a relationship Tim was just being used to fill the void that Jason left. The media eventually called him "Jason Todd's replacement."

The media got much more suspicious when Bruce adopted Cassandra and crossed lines with their speculations that resulted in a lot of lawsuits. Though nobody in Wayne's circles believed the rumors for a second, so rumors were wiped out pretty quickly. The least offensive of these things called Bruce a "Bleeding Heart" when the media saw the scars Cassandra had.

Stephanie was never officially adopted - at least legally - but anybody who saw her with the family knew that Bruce had adopted her as a daughter. Like Cassandra she got some negative comments but they learned after the first time. "Another Wayne Joins The Manor".

When Damian came into the picture the media exploded. Comments along the lines of "The Bastard Child" which made Bruce's blood boil but kept quiet. Damian had only known violence and aggression growing up, and while his mother loved him she had exposed him to a life he didn't need to see. Bruce wasn't about to make everything worse by loosing it on the media for being jackasses.

When he fostered Duke the media exploded again. Showing the ugly side of human ignorance but Bruce and Duke were both able to ignore it (while Tim and Oracle found ways to rip every person apart who dared make a comment against them).

Bruce didn't care what they said, because at the end of the day he had children who he loved with all of his heart and was learning to do the best for. Sure, he made plenty of mistakes but he tried to learn from his mistakes.

Though the rumor about Bruce being a "Serial Adopter" was one that would be one that would never leave him.

But he had to learn it from somewhere.

A fact that was ignored until Alfred showed up back to the manor after a shopping trip with a scrawny child walking hesitantly behind him, carrying some of the groceries'. He was prime "adoption bait". Underweight, messy black hair, blue eyes that were just a bit too blue, and bruises that were in view despite the kids best attempt to cover them with his hoodie.

A large hand print bruise around his neck, scraped knuckles, and a bruise peeking out from under his hairline might as well have been ink in the pen that Bruce was going to use to sign that kids adoption papers and sign the receipt for the shovel he would buy to bury the bastards responsible.

After the groceries were put away Alfred properly introduced the kid. His name was Danny and after a series of unfortunate events while Alfred was shopping Danny had been forced to jump in and help him. Bruce thought that maybe Alfred had been in danger and never called them but when it became clear that luck just wasn't on his side and that he was never in danger for anything despite being late it made Bruce even more concerned about the teen that currently was eating his third apple as though he had never eaten anything in his life.

He stayed small, stayed silent, looking around the room anxiously. He clearly kept tabs on every window. Every door. Every exit but hardly paid any attention to the valuables. He was scared but not a thief.

Finally they have to ask about Danny's injuries. Was he safe at home? Did he have a place to stay? Why was he so thin? Did he need them to call somebody.

Danny was quiet for a long time.

"I don't have a home to go to. The bruises are fine, I'm just clumsy. I don't need a place to stay. Thanks for the food and the hospitality but... I don't feel like being kidnapped and tortured by another millionaire so if Alfred doesn't need anything else I should go."

Danny tried to get up and move, the pain obvious but before anybody could say anything else Alfred simply said.

"Sit."

Danny hesitated, then sighed and sat down again.

"You promised you would allow me to treat you before you left. I am a man of my word so as soon as you finish your apple I will bandage your wounds and you will be free to leave if you wish."

Classic Alfred trap.

One that worked flawlessly.

Fresh bandages, a full stomach, warm clean clothes and a cup of hot chocolate on the comfortable couch in the living room was all it took to lull the injured teen to sleep.

Alfred continued this trend for three more days managing to trick Danny into helping him with minor tasks around the manor, offering him another meal because he 'made too much and didn't want to waste it' and countless other things.

It wasn't until day four when Danny seemed to accept his fate and allowed them to help him. Which prompted Cass to point at Alfred.

"Original Serial Adopter."

Making the entire table laugh while Danny just looked increasingly confused.

[girl-failure]

Transwoman needs answers

this isnt an easy post to write and it's going to be full of info about me that's personal and embarassing but I am desperate for answers and assitance so please bear with me. Long story short, im almost 3 years hrt (may 19th will be exact) and it's like nothing has changed. More info under the cut.

I'm going to try and explain everything to the best of my memory, but exact dosages and stuff might be fuzzy and inexact. I began HRT on May 19th 2021, when I was 22. I took one and a half 2mg pills, twice (morning and night) daily. I took them sublingually. I was also prescribed Spironolactone, though the exact dose escapes me (i remember it was 1 pill nightly). I had only come out as trans in the December the previous year, so i considered myself unfathomably lucky to get to start so soon. I had done this through informed consent at a planned parenthood and was excited by the possibility of a future where my own body didn't make me want to die. The idea of changing my body gave me a feeling of control in my life that had been entirely absent until that point. I knew I wanted all the help I could get with breast development (the women in my immediate family are well endowed) and I had read & heard from other trans women that prog could help, but I'd have to wait to ask for it.

I think it was on December 15, 2021, I was officially prescribed 100 progesterone nightly. At this point I had began to notice softer skin, lighter hair, the few bits of acne left over from high school had gone entirely, and the inklings of breasts beginning to form. My libido had all but dissipated entirely at that point, but I was told (mostly by other trans women) it would come back, especially after starting prog, and that my body would likely experience pleasure differently, and that my orgasm would be very different. The fat from my stomach (i wasn't overweight or underweight, i was pretty average for a man my height, but I did have a masculine stomach I despised) hadn't relocated at all, but I knew HRT wasn't a sprint, but a marathon, and I had a long way to go. This continued for a long time, eventually i would be bumped up to two 2mg of E (sublingual pill) twice daily (8mg total), and my Spiro would change to 200mg a day EDIT: My Spiro dosages did fluctuate, though again I don't recall the exact dosages, (I initially got it confused with my prog dosage, sorry), though there was the occasional few week period where I'd be bumped back down to one and a half E pills because I had timed my blood-work poorly. It had been a while since starting HRT and I was starting to worry. My libido never came back, I was unable to feel the sensation of pleasure entirely, my breasts & nipples never became sensitive or had growth pains, and my breasts really hadn't grown at all. My stomach still made me feel awful and masculine because fat continued to pile up there instead of in the feminine places I was told and led to believe it should!!! I was scared and frightened and upset. I'd say I developed an eating disorder but my eating was already disordered. I was afraid of food. Afraid it'd just make me look manly, instead of going to my hips/waist/whatever and breasts like it was supposed to. I began to feel like the hrt that was supposed to save my life was just making me feel worse.

On October 23rd, 2023, I finally started seeing a doctor again after 9 years of not being able to afford it, and only then because a parent got insurance through their work. I was officially prescribed Estradiol Valerate (.3mL intramuscular, and the bottle itself is 20mg/mL) , and quit Spiro outright. Now that I was talking to a doc, especially one who had been working with trans people in my area for years, I was starting to have hope again that maybe injections would solve my problems. After all, they're supposed to be more powerful right? Well after some blood-work revealing that my T levels were so low they were undetectable, we started fiddling with my injection dosages. I went down to .25mL. Nothing changed. I went down to .2ml. Nothing changed. I stayed at .2mL and was prescribed a med called EstraTest (.625mg E and 1.25mg T), a single pill which has both E and T in it, to try and raise my T levels back to measurable levels and hopefully find that golden ratio of E and T where maybe my body will start working again and start changing. But that brings us today. I still don't feel any sensation of pleasure (masturbating is pointless, intimacy just feels like I'm disappointing my partner), let alone a female orgasm (which as embarrassing as it is to admit, I was really looking forward to), my nipples still don't get sensitive and my chest doesn't get sore or get growing pains. My breasts look the same way they did 4 months into hrt. I've still had practically no fat redistribution, though I've gotten better about eating and not being afraid of food. I'm even beginning to notice my acne slowing starting to come back. I feel like I'm losing my mind. Why has nothing worked? Why does it feel like I'm regressing? I lost my health insurance earlier this week, and I can't afford to see my doctor again with my dumb pizza delivery job, so I haven't been able to ask to try anything more drastic to try and fix these issues. My current theories are that maybe my body is just more resistant to E? Which would be awful, but might be handled by just tripling my dose or something? Or

that my receptors are fried, and that the only solution would be to stop taking my HRT for a while (maybe even a long while). I pray that isn't the case, because I'd sooner off myself then let my body regress any further.

So this is a call for help. If anyone has any idea what could be causing these problems for me, or knows how I might be able to fix them, PLEASE let me know. I've lost hope in having a future as a woman, or even just feeling apathy towards my body (instead of intense self-loathing) at this point.

Here's my ca$happ if anyone wants to throw some money my way and maybe I'll be able to see the doctor again. cash.app/$occultChloe

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

I wonder like what does Yves like to eat? Does he prefer sweet foods? Savory? Salty? Etc?

I could also imagine that he would change his darlings food cravings and wants with his reality bending if they are lacking a certain vitamin or mineral.

TW: eating disorders, gore and nasty horrible rich people stuff like making people their toilets or something, sexual harassment and human trafficking

He has expensive taste, the palate of a stereotypical rich person. It doesn't matter if the dish is sweet or savory, it must be made from scratch from the freshest produce the market can offer. He prefers to eat his own cooking as he can easily control what goes into it.

Yves has an intense aversion to strong-tasting foods, not because he can't handle the pungent aroma of garlic or other spices; he used to eat boxes upon boxes of takeout, fast food, and convenience meals.

It's because he associated them with the decades he spent struggling to find his footing in this world. They were cheap, accessible, and definitely not something he would willingly put in his body despite knowing it probably wouldn't affect him greatly in any way now.

Foods that are greasy, overly salty, processed to unrecognizable heights, and contain a barrel's worth of sugar are foods that Yves has a strong disdain for. He very much prefers eating foods that are steamed, boiled, or baked with minimal amounts of oil, salt, and sugar. His cooking is definitely still flavourful, it's mostly simple but it has a quality that makes it lavish and 'clean'.

Yves wasn't always like this though. Just like most humans, he started off hating his vegetables and fruits, yearning for junk and other vices. His previous cravings are only exacerbated by the stressful life that he lived, to no one's surprise, he wasn't always in the best shape. Or the best state of mind.

He knows what it was like to live in a severely unhealthy body on both ends of the spectrum. Yves was both a hundred pounds overweight and a hundred pounds underweight, neither phase was fun at all and it just made his life much harder than it was supposed to be.

Yves sobbed hysterically when he failed to stop himself from eating an entire 5-pound chocolate cake to cope with his emotions, then promptly threw up everything afterward on the dingy floor of his dilapidated rental. He was too familiar with the feeling of his two fingers pushing his uvula as deep as he could so he could empty his stomach into the toilet bowl, to the point that the off-white ceramic was painted red. Yves knew what half-eaten hamburgers covered in god-knows-what, found in dumpsters taste like. He knew what ingredient in candies to look for that aided him in vomiting, he tried all the slimming teas, laxatives, and enemas. Yves had his favorite brands.

Yves vividly remembers how he would be out of breath just by standing up, how his joints felt like it was about to give out at any moment. The bruises he received from merely sitting on certain types of chairs, the horrible chafing that led to nasty, debilitating infections because he didn't have the means to receive medical attention, the humiliation, and degradation, painful and permanent swellings, the increased frequency of sexual groping that usually led to something much worse, overheating in a flesh suit that he cannot just remove, the cruel loneliness, the desperation for food when he doesn't even have a single cent left to his name, his reflection and more revolting memories.

He remembers all of it. He remembers the broken bones that were forced to heal on their own, bleeding orifices leaking with excrement due to his abuse of weight-losing drugs, articles of clothing ruined by his own feces and vomit, the obsession over the number on his scale, the shivering even at scorching temperatures, locks of his hair clogging the drain, fainting spells that cost him his meager wages for the week, the taste of his own stomach acid still lingers on his tongue, his "friends" who were equally as ghoulish calling Yves a fat pig and incessantly oinking at him for finishing a whole apple by himself, being unable to chew properly because his teeth were eroded, being unable to fight back because he was just that weak, fingers that looked like it belonged to a rotting corpse, his reflection, the hunger, the hunger, the hunger...

And in both chapters of his life, one thing stayed constant. The infamous, deep-fried, saturated, tastebud-abusing slop served to the disadvantaged masses.

So please do forgive him when he gives you a blank look for an uncomfortable while when you eat a crispy fried chicken leg in front of him. He didn't mean to give the plate of french fries on the table a long, dull stare before digging in like any other normal person; with a lot more elegance. Yves just had a few memories pass through his mind, that's it.

Not to say that he will act like it's the end of the world to eat the food that he hates. You wouldn't know that he despised them unless he told you, Yves would have eaten it without complaint and hesitation, expressing his gratitude to you for getting these for him. He doesn't wear his heart on his sleeve, after all.

Yves understands that his experience doesn't necessarily reflect yours, he has no issue with you eating garbage foods in moderation. You will have cravings, it's simply something humans like you have to deal with. He will still agree to have a date or two at a fast-food joint even if he detests the griminess and classlessness of it all, as long as it makes you happy to see him 'enjoying' himself too. Of course, he would attempt and succeed at making healthier alternatives at home.

If you're craving something that is missing many of the key nutrients but it's not harmful to your health, he would fortify it with the needed vitamins or minerals. You couldn't even tell the difference, but your body will.

He will have a massive problem if you exhibit the same symptoms his younger self had. Yves will plant his foot firmly on the ground, he wouldn't even talk to you about it. He goes straight to rewiring your brain without even thinking if Yves noticed your struggles. You would find yourself one day 'cured' of whatever complex you had with food, baffled but grateful, brushing it off as something trivial although it is anything but.

You might notice that the fridge always has at least one tin of sturgeon caviar on a block of ice. You deduced that his favorite food is caviar, but you might not truly know why.

He isn't stingy with it. Yves told you that you are welcome to eat as much as you want (within reason, it has a ridiculously high sodium content). Whether you like eating it or not, it was astonishing that he could replace it as soon as it's finished despite needing to pay an exorbitant amount for a container the size of your palm.

And he associated that overpriced spoonful of fish eggs with the dawn of a new era and the end of his horror-filled years. His life wasn't perfect when he first tried it, far from it actually. He still gets assaulted, spat on, molested, and insulted straight to his face, more so due to his new career as a budding fashion model. But it was a change, an overall positive change.

Despite first trying it at a mansion owned by a syndicate of influential Oligarchs who hire conventionally beautiful people and commit unspeakable acts against them, caviar became a symbol of hope. Yves, disheveled, drugged beyond belief, and covered in bruises, cuts, and disgusting fluids, managed to slip out of the room where the torture happened. His own disorganized thoughts drowned out the screams of his colleagues and the cheers of the rich, Yves was on a mission.

He somehow maneuvered his way through the hallways without being detected by staff or other members, finding his way to one of the private chambers. It was occupied an hour ago, as shown by the mildly displaced chairs and empty crystal glasses.

Even under the influence of substances, his first instinct wasn't necessarily to run away. It was to rob them of everything they had, watches, jewelry, shoes, bags- anything he could get his sticky hands on. God, he so badly wanted to own their wardrobe. The rings looked dazzling on his fingers, and the purses fit right around his arm.

Then his bloodshot, dilated eyes landed on the glass table.

An open bottle of champagne half filled; in Yves's eyes, half-empty. A tray with something he only heard of, but never seen. A tin filled with numerous, tiny black spheres accompanied by a plate of Blinis and an intricate bowl of creme fraiche, and a couple of lemon wedges.

His hands trembled as he stumbled towards the glistening set. These are what the rich and powerful eat. He thought to himself. Yves didn't understand the fondness towards these. Tastewise, he didn't find anything particularly exciting or great. Statuswise...

For a minute, just a mere minute, Yves felt like he was at the top of the world. Yves ate what his 'masters' ate.

It didn't matter that he got caught after, it didn't matter he was made an example of by being urinated in front of an audience, beaten unconscious, and had a skull fracture. For a moment, he was their equal. And this will be the last time he will be disrespected to this level.

He escaped with enough stolen goods to buy his way out of his hell.

And he stole a coveted tin of caviar for himself.

[hannahbarberra162]

Can't Fix Fix A Broken Heart Chapter 22

18+ MDNI on Ao3 All chapters

I'm still writing chapters for my other works, I've just been in a yandere-y mood lately.

Thatch POV

Being so cruel to you had nearly broken Thatch’s heart. It had taken everything in him not to console you after you started crying in the mess hall. He felt even worse for force feeding you, he could tell you weren’t going to eat the moment you’d walked into the mess hall. But you needed to be reminded of who made the rules and who followed them. He’d only given you what you asked for and you couldn’t handle it. True, he knew you meant that you wanted to sit on your own chair, but he wasn’t going to let that happen. Not when it was one of the brightest parts of his day, something he got to look forward to multiple times a day. You were steadily gaining a bit of weight with him, which had brought a glow of health to your visage. He couldn’t have you undoing all his progress. 

It just so happened that the bi-monthly Commanders’ meeting was this afternoon. He’d let Marco know that they needed an extra few minutes between them afterwards as well. Ace was still sailing back to the Moby so they would appraise him of the situation later. Ace was a good third to have, he just needed a little guidance from his brothers. He was so much younger than them, after all. Ace had been with them sexually for a while now, but he really was more of a switch rather than a true submissive. Having you with the three of them rounded out the relationship, helping them all to feel more fulfilled. Marco and Thatch were trying to show him by example how to handle you, with correction and punishment needed only occasionally. He’d met you first, so by rights you were his, but it was always better when good fortune was shared among siblings.  

Thatch settled in for the long meeting, looking over the agenda. He needed to pay attention, but the only thing he could think about were the tears that had run down your face and your shoulders slumped in submission. He wanted to find you and discipline you now, he didn’t like to delay the punishments and build anticipation like Marco did. He wanted to punish and soothe you, bringing you back to him with love. Unluckily for you, their attendance at the meeting was mandatory so you’d have to wait until it was over. Thatch sighed and tried to concentrate on Blenheim, who was running the meeting, without much success. It would be a long few hours.

~~~

Once the neverending meeting was finally over, Marco plopped himself down next to Thatch in the meeting room. All the other Commanders were filling out, but they had a lot to discuss. Thatch wanted to fill Marco in about breakfast and recap the situation from your panic attack. 

“Has Pops asked you about grandkids yoi?” Marco began, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck.

“Yeah, so embarrassing. He asked me yesterday.” In that way, Oyaji really was more like their father than their captain.  

“He’s not going to stop, he’s gotten it into his head that he needs a grandchild before he dies,” Marco complained.

“I wouldn’t be opposed,” Thatch said slowly, “but I don’t think now’s a good time. She’s not quite stable yet. And she’s still underweight.” 

“True. We need to wait until she regains her regular menstrual cycle and puts on more weight. I also want to see her sleep improve more. Then we can see about some fertility drugs. Might speed up the process and get Pops off our backs,” Marco mused. 

“Well, about her weight, there was an incident this morning I wanted to talk to you about…” Thatch told a very interested Marco about your small attempt at independence this morning. The more he described your disobedience, the more Marco smiled. 

Y/N POV

Every instinct inside you told you to run and hide so no one could find you. But you knew that was a bad idea and would only make Marco and Thatch angrier than they already were. Thatch for the breakfast incident, and Marco for the infirmary incident. You were honestly scared to meet up with either one of them, but you knew it was going to happen one way or another. You ended up holed up in one of the crow’s nests, putting some finishing touches on the nurse uniform redesign you’d been working on. It was slow going because every time your mind drifted from the designs you thought about the punishment that was looming over your head. You had barely gotten any work done when Deuce came up the crow’s nest ladder.

“Ah, hello. Time for lunch,” Deuce said awkwardly, fiddling with his jacket cuff.

“What - Why are you here?” You hoped you weren’t being rude, you were just puzzled why Deuce of all people was bringing you to lunch.

“Marco told me to come get you to eat. The Commanders are all in a meeting and you need dietary supervision,” he said shrugging. You paled thinking about the meeting Thatch had mentioned.

“Ok, I’ll come down,” you said, grabbing your things. You had been nervous for lunch with Thatch but had also been hoping to talk to him or try to get him into a better mood. You didn’t think you could avoid punishment altogether but you thought you might be able to mitigate it if you showed him how much you appreciated him. You came down the ladder and followed Deuce to the private dining room. He’d already brought the food in and took a seat opposite you at a plate of his own.

“Sorry you have to do this,” you said apologetically. You felt bad that Deuce had to work more to cover up for your mistakes.

“I don’t mind. At least it’s quiet in here, which is a nice change of pace.” Deuce began eating and you tried to as well. You picked at your food, attempting to eat some of it. Your stomach was in knots and you didn’t think you could keep much down. You moved the food around your plate, waiting for Deuce to finish eating so you could leave. Once he’d eaten his fill, he brought out a small notebook and pen. He glanced over at your plate and made a few notes.

“You’re not going to regain any weight if you don’t eat more,” Deuce reminded you. He finished writing and put the notebook and pen away.

“Are you reporting this back to Thatch?” you asked worriedly.

“Yes. And Marco,” Deuce supplied neutrally, gathering the dirty plates. He didn’t know the implications of what he had just told you, but you felt like there was a weight bearing down on your neck. Now they’d know you hadn’t eaten lunch either, just proving Thatch right yet again. You laid your head in your hands. You didn’t know what to do to alleviate the tension radiating from within you. You felt a hand clap onto your shoulder, and looked up to see Deuce giving you a supportive smile.

“I know they can seem scary, but they’re actually quite kind once you get to know them. I’m sure they’ll go easy on you.” Deuce left, taking the plates with him. Oh, how wrong he was.

~~~ 

After lunch you were a bundle of nerves and you couldn’t focus. You spent hours of your time pacing the deck, trying to calm down. You were picking at your skin, your fingers, and biting your lips. You tried to stop but as soon as you weren’t actively thinking about it to prevent yourself, you started again. You knew Marco and Thatch would be upset you’d been picking at your skin. You wanted to ask for help but Marco and Thatch were busy and mad and you were worried and stressed and your stomach hurt and and and

And you felt someone hug you from behind, putting their chin on the top of your head. You detected the smell of a match after it had been extinguished. You leaned your head back and saw shaggy black hair and a smattering of freckles smiling at you from behind.

“Ace!” you exclaimed. You were truly happy to see him. You spun to face him and hugged him tight. 

“When did you get back?” you asked into his chest, not releasing him from your hug. 

“A couple of hours ago, I had a few things to do before I saw ya.” You squeezed him tighter.

“Whoa there tiger, what’s going on?” Ace pried you off of him, looking you over. You wilted under his gaze.

“What’s got you so shook up?” Ace asked with concern, pulling you to the side of the deck. He stood opposite you but kept his arms around your waist.

“I messed up and Thatch and Marco are mad at me and are going to punish me and I’m -I’m scared.” You said it all in a rush while looking out at the water, eyes filling with tears but trying not to cry. You had been anxious all afternoon and it was coming to a head. Ace sat down cross legged on the deck, pulling you into his lap with him. 

“You broke the rules?” Ace asked you softly. You nodded and Ace rubbed your arms.

“You don’t have to be afraid, it will be OK. We’re never going to hurt you. Once the punishment is over, it’s all in the past. It’s a way to show we care about you. I’ve been in trouble lots of times and I’ve always been fine. Besides, isn’t it a little fun to be punished?” Ace remarked with a twinkle in his eye. Thinking about the last time you saw Ace getting punished sent shivers down your spine. You didn’t think you could handle anything close to what he had and you definitely didn’t think it was fun. You’d been loved by other people in your past and had never experienced anything like this situation before. You didn’t think love needed punishments, but maybe relationships with pirates were different. 

“I’m sorry this is your welcome home, Ace. Sorry I couldn’t be good.” You hung your head. He didn’t reply to your comment, but his expression faltered.

“Come with me, they sent me to get you.” Ace stood up, giving you his hand. You took it and he hauled you to your feet. You hoped he wasn’t mad at you too.

“Nothing really bad will ever happen to you here,” Ace replied. “We love you and are going to keep you safe, no matter what. You’ll see.” You appreciated the sentiment but the closer you got to the stairs the more the sense of foreboding grew within you. Ace led you by the hand to the Commander’s meeting room and herded you to the door. 

“I’m not staying. I have a lot to catch up on, but I’ll see you later.” Ace kissed the top of your head and pushed you into the room gently, shutting the door behind you. Thatch and Marco were already seated, stern expressions on their faces. You didn’t see another seat available, there was just a cushion on the floor, so you stood. It reminded you of the first meeting you’d all had together where you’d gotten your first set of rules. You fidgeted in place waiting for someone to start talking, squirming more the longer the silence dragged on.  

“Sit yoi,” Marco said firmly. You spotted another chair from the edge of the room and started to walk towards it.

“No, on the floor.” On the cushion? Like a dog? You swallowed your pride and sat on your heels like Marco told you while your face heated. You felt too embarrassed to speak or look up from your seated position. You felt like you were on trial, or at the center of an interrogation.

“We have a number of things to discuss, yoi. Let’s begin with what happened the other day on the Moby Jr.” Marco didn’t sound upset or angry, just serious. 

“I’m sorry, Marco. I didn’t mean for it to happen.” You preemptively began with your apology, knowing it was going to have to come anyway.

“Why are you sorry?” Marco inquired in a neutral tone. You looked up at him with a slightly furrowed brow. He had read the report right? Maybe he just wanted you to explain it point by point so you knew how badly you messed up. You played with the hem of the pillow by your feet, pulling at a loose thread.

“Because I freaked out and um, hurt myself, and um, it happened a second time, and I um, couldn’t work the next day. I didn’t mean to make you angry.” You hoped he didn’t want more details on the freaking out, it was kind of difficult for you to remember a lot of what happened. You were pinching your fingers with your nails from nervousness. Marco exchanged a look with Thatch. 

“Why would I be angry at you for that yoi?” 

“Um, because I was bad? And, um, b-broke the rules?” You looked down at the floor, ashamed of yourself. 

“Look at me,” Marco said softly. You brought your eyes up to meet his. “None of what happened on the Moby Jr. or afterwards was your fault. You weren’t bad yoi. We just need to talk about it.” You felt lost - you really wished you were sitting in Marco’s lap and getting some physical reassurance from him but it didn’t feel like the time to ask. 

“Obviously, you were unable to control your reaction to whatever was happening yoi,” Marco said frowning. “Has anything like that ever happened before?” You nodded, it had happened a few times since you’d been off the Marine ship but you’d hidden it from the Brothers. It was easier then, you did your own thing with no supervision.

“It’s just something else you need help with. And of course we’re going to help you yoi. You know there’s no one else in the world who cares about you like we do.” You nodded, meeting Marco’s intense gaze. You knew they cared about you and had brought you to the ship when you didn’t have any other options. 

“I know. Thank you, Marco.” You felt a little better that Marco wasn’t upset at you for the infirmary incident.

“Which is why your behavior this morning was so disappointing,” Thatch stated bitterly. You immediately deflated and curled into yourself, bringing your knees to your chest. You had been feeling better momentarily but now you felt like the air had left the room. 

“You’re lucky we love you so much, Querida . We’ve thrown people off the ship for less.” Marco threw Thatch an unamused look.

“I’m wondering if you misunderstood our discussion last night yoi. We talked about how you need to learn to ask for help. Not about getting what you think you want.” Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes but you didn’t allow them to fall. 

“It’s surprising to me that you could be so disrespectful to Thatch after he helped you and took such good care of you when you were incapable.” Marco said with a contempt. You felt small and in the spotlight, like a bug pinned down on a card.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whispered, tears now tracking down your cheeks.

“So you say,” Marco remarked dismissively, “but you’re going to need to show it yoi.”

“H-how?” Your hands shook thinking about whatever they’d come up with for your punishment. Your heart was racing with the anticipation.

“You’re going to have to show that you actually want us to help you yoi. We’re not making you do anything - this was your idea to show that we can trust you, that you can remain with us on the ship, remember? If you don’t want our help, that’s fine yoi. You're always free to leave.”

“N-no, Marco, please, please I - I still want your help,” you sputtered out. You remembered the initial discussion with Marco the night he caught you in the closet but the details were a little fuzzy. Had it been your idea?

“Good. I’m glad you agree. Come here,” Marco said, motioning you over to him. You got up on wobbly legs and slowly moved to stand in front of his chair. 

“Over my lap,” he said, guiding you. You laid down across Marco’s muscled thighs, your ass hiked in the air. Your torso was laying across the armrest of the chair, keeping you mostly level. Marco wound his arm around your waist, keeping you pinned in place. Marco lowered your pants and panties until you were completely bared. His large hand started caressing and rubbing your ass cheeks. 

“If you want our help, you have to allow us to help you. You need to let us take over. That makes sense, right, yoi?” Marco said while massaging you. 

“Yes, Marco.” Marco stopped massaging for a moment to reach for something out of your line of sight. He was doing something but you couldn’t make out what.

“Do you know what happens to bad little doves?” Marco asked calmly, still manipulating something you couldn’t see.

“N-no, Marco.” 

“They get fucked in the ass.” You tried to jolt up but his arm kept you in place. You felt something cold being put onto your puckered entrance.

“Wait - no, I - Marco, please -” you weakly tried to get up but knew you were no match for his strength. 

“Shhh. Not right now, you’re not ready yet. We’re just preparing you.” Marco spoke to you in low tones, trying to calm you. He continued to rub and started pushing something hard and large into your hole. It felt like an intrusion and you didn’t want it in. You tried to stop it from being put in you, but Marco wasn’t relenting.

“Ah, ah, Dove. Show us you can let us in. Show us you can be good and accept your punishment. It’s not a large plug, it will fit. You'll learn to like it.” He continued to push the plug deeper.

You tried to turn your head to watch him but Thatch came and stood in front of you. He crouched down so his face was level with yours. Putting his hand on your cheek, he looked at you downhearted.

“Is it true Mami? You’re sorry you were so disrespectful to me this morning?” It was difficult for you to answer, Marco was still driving the plug deeper into you, stretching your hole. The plug was tapered and you could feel it getting larger with each push from Marco.

“Yes, Thatch. I’m ah -I’m sorry. I won’t - aah - I won’t do it again.” You felt the plug narrow and the flared base flush against your skin. Marco was gently grinding it into you.

“See? What a good dove you can be yoi,” Marco said. “You’re keeping it in until you’re told otherwise. I’ll know if you don’t.” You shivered - you didn’t doubt he would be able to tell. Now that the plug was in, Marco was toying with it, twisting it and moving it. You didn’t enjoy the sensations but it didn’t hurt.  Marco started moving the fingers of his other hand down into your slit. 

“Feel this, Thatch. She’s soaking wet yoi.” The chef reached over you to run his fingers through your folds as well. Thatch took his time and started running his fingers lightly over your clit. You squirmed from the sensation of being so full and teased.

“Absolutely drenched. Maybe this isn’t such a punishment for her.” It was humiliating for them to talk about you like you weren’t there, like you were just an object to play with. 

“Show Thatch you love him,” Marco rasped. “Show him you’re thankful he took care of you.” Marco sat you upright on his lap while Thatch stood up and undid his pants. Sitting up meant the plug was pressing into you, making you whimper. Marco put one of his hands on your jaw and squeezed, holding your mouth open. Thatch slid his erect cock into your mouth, all the way to the back.

“ Ahh I needed this,” Thatch sighed as he drove himself forward, “remember, Mami, I need you like you need me. No one will ever love you like we do.” Thatch’s hands had a hold of your head, keeping you in pace with his desire. One of Marco’s hands had snaked up your shirt and was rolling your nipple between his fingers while he kissed the back of your neck. His other hand was playing with your clit while Thatch was fucking your mouth, gagging you on his thick cock. You could barely breathe, tears were streaming down your face as Thatch forced himself deeper and deeper into your throat. You started to see stars in your vision and tried to pull back but Marco was behind you, keeping you where they wanted. Every time you moved, the plug in your ass did too, causing you to shift in discomfort. It was so much you couldn’t focus on any one thing happening to you. You felt an orgasm building within you to your dismay.

“If you want to come, you need to ask for permission,” Marco ordered, increasing the tempo of his rubbing. You whined but couldn’t talk with Thatch’s dick deep in your mouth. Marco didn’t provide you with any solutions, just continued to stimulate you.

““T-that’s it nnf t-t ake my cock, take all of it. Show me you’re mine,” Thatch gritted out. He was close and was pumping into you furiously. You were gagging but he didn’t stop. He came with a groan, gripping your hair tightly, and you felt him come down your throat. Marco stopped his movements once Thatch did, denying your orgasm.

“Swallow it,” Thatch ordered. You were panting and getting your breath back but did as he told you. “Show me,” he said, hand in your hair tugging your head up. You dutifully opened your now empty mouth. Thatch smiled radiantly down at you.

“Too bad you didn’t get to come, yoi.” Marco said slyly, lifting you off his lap. The plug remained firmly nestled within you to your dismay.

“See, Mami? Everything is wonderful again. Come, let’s go eat dinner together. I know you haven’t eaten today. There’s a party tonight to celebrate Ace and Marco’s successful mission and I want you to eat beforehand.” Thatch was all smiles as you reached for your clothes that were bunched around your ankles. You were glad he was happy and no longer angry with you. Ace was right, everything seemed to be forgiven.

“Oh, one last thing yoi,” Marco noted in a casual tone, “you aren’t allowed to wear panties. I need to be able to quickly check that you’re following the rules. You will wear dresses from now on.” Your head was spinning - there were so many new rules you had to follow. How were you supposed to remember everything? Dresses didn’t really fit with the kind of work you did, but you didn’t think you could complain, especially now that they weren’t mad anymore. You’d stand out even more than you already did on the ship, which wasn’t a pleasant thought. Maybe this would just be temporary.

Marco handed you a coral colored dress you hadn’t noticed before. You took the dress in your hands and stood for a few moments, thinking. How long had this been planned? But you were uncomfortable, tired, and actually hungry so you quickly changed into the dress. At least your back was covered for the party.

[widow-writer]

There's something about the fire within her...

Tw: sexual assault, talks and implications of past abuse, details of murder to men who needed to die.

Fire in her eyes

Natasha has seen the worst of the worst. Her work not only as a spy, but as an avenger allowed her to see the real tragedies that terrible people caused. She had also been trained by the red room, an establishment set to train the strongest young girls to kill and to kill the weaker girls and assess their weaknesses to improve.

She hadn't disregarded the red room but she knew the moment it crashed down that she was going to be the savior for so many young widows who were killing under the control of a person who was now dead. She knew she would likely get attached to some of them but what she had yet to learn could potentially hurt her worse than any injury.

It was nearly a month after she had finally eliminated the red room that she met her first widows. They were around the ages of 10 and 13. One girl was tall with dark red hair braided tightly. The other was shorter and had a blonde bob that was very wavy.

It was a fight getting them exposed to the gas, but when they were freed it was even harder for these girls to trust Natasha.

"it's ok. I promise I'm here to help you." Natasha whispered kneeling. Allowing herself to get on their level.

Both girls allowed the elder woman to lift them up and carry them. One on either hip, they were so severely underweight that it was easier than it should have been.

Upon the arrival of these widows to the stark facilities Natasha led them in holding their hands that were covered in dirt and mud. Immediately she showed them where the bathroom was and allowed them to go take a bath while she finished their bedroom. The last touch was simply making their beds. Everything else was done.

Once both girls had taken a shower, she sat with them and detangled their hair while watching a movie. When Natasha braided the redhead's hair back up, the redhead spoke for the first time since she had been found

"can you do something different please? I don't like my hair like this," she said she sounded so timid and scared of Natasha as if she'd hurt her

"Of course my darling," Natasha said gently undoing the braid and beginning to work on doing a secure Celtic hairstyle she had learned. It was three smaller braids tied back into a ponytail with the rest of her loose hair.

"thank you," the girl said.

"anytime, can you tell me your name?" Natasha asked

"I don't know. I was always referred to as my number 62339" she said

"me too, I was 2723" the blonde said, less timid but still extremely quiet and fearful.

"well how would you like to choose your names? I can choose if you'd prefer but I think you should choose." Natasha told

"I've always liked the name Avery," the blonde said.

"is that what you want to be called? Avery," Natasha said watching the blonde nod seeming to come out a little more confident. Maybe she hadn't had as bad a treatment as her redhead friend or she was just less impacted.

"what about you dear? You look like a Maddy to me." Natasha suggested trying to give her ideas.

"No!" The redhead squeaked, "not that. I like misty" she said.

"ok misty. But Why did you react so quickly to Maddy" natasha asked curious as to the odd reaction.

"that's what he called me." Misty said.

"who dear?" Natasha asked now concerned for her girls wellbeing.

(TW: please read triggers and read at your own risk)

"t-the men. They were in the red room. When I was there they would pull me out of training sessions to go alone to an empty room or closet and they would touch me in places. Places I didn't want to be touched." Misty explained trying to keep her voice level and will her tears away.

Natasha was silent. She was shocked that there were monsters who would do this to a little girl.

"did you also get pulled out Avery?" Natasha asked

"yeah. If I wasn't fast enough at picking up the techniques I would get pulled out and a guard would take a cane, belt, wooden spoon, and paddle and beat me with it. Thirty licks of each, the spoon and paddle stayed on softer, more meaty parts like my legs. The cane would be my legs and back, and the belt would be anywhere he felt like hitting. My legs, my back, my sides and stomach." Avery said.

Natasha knew there were still men who survived the red rooms downfall. She would find them, and kill them. She now had two young lives to care for and she was going to give those men what they deserved for hurting her girls.

"Don't worry girls, they will never hurt you again." Natasha told, "For now, I'm going to set up some cots for you two to get some rest. I have to go talk to my friends and other avengers for a little. Well be in the kitchen, which is just down the hall."

Natasha set up the cots with a fluffy pillow and a cozy blanket on each. Both girls got cozy and Natasha left them be.

When Clint saw Natasha emerge from her bedroom and come out he saw a fire in her eyes. A fire unlike any other, it was fury. A sheer need to hurt the people who hurt the ones she loves.

"Spider, what's going on? Clint asked concerned.

"I freed two orphaned girls today. I decided against sending them to a shelter or putting them in the foster care system, so I am going to care for them. They're both around 10-12 I'm not sure just yet. But there are men alive that abused those girls. And I need to find them, kill them, and burn them." Natasha told

"Ok. I will put that on the mission list for this coming week, but you need to stay here for a couple days to get these girls adjusted to being here before you leave to serve justice." Clint told "I know how you are, but trust me on this one, those firls need yoy most right now. They're in a new place with people they've never met being treated far better than what they're used to."

"I know Clint. I had planned to stay. I'm going to clean up the spare bedroom for them and get them all set up before I leave." Natasha tells

That night Natasha was gone. Both of her girls slept soundly, assured they were safe.

The fire in Natasha burned far brighter than any other fury. She was determined that both men would die before sunrise. And she would be back at the tower by daylight. Upon Avery and Misty retelling their traumas, Natasha immediately knew who was behind them.

A man named Adam shoskovich and another named Alexander shoskavani. Both men were supposedly laying low in a hotel complex in the states. Little did Natasha know that five minutes of research and about an hour of scanning through security footage from across the city would result in her finding out these two men were in the hotel complex down the street from her favorite bakery a block away from the tower. It seems she could pissibly be done with this before 3 am.

She rigged a sniper atop a building that overlooked the hotel. She had long since cut the cameras so no footage would be caught of her commiting the murders. She was in all black and had even opted to cover her face with a mask that also hid part of her hair. she had gone blonde but had since grown it out and this mask hid the blonde which right now was an extremely identifying feature to Natashas profile.

She looked through the scope and aimed at her first target. It seemed to her luck both were in the same hotel room and there were no other people in the room with them. They were sitting ducks.

One moment later and Alex was dead. Another and Adam followed. She looked through the scope and assured herself that both shots hit right in the middle of the forehead and went through to the back of the skull.

She disappeared and in the shadows changed into a white shirt and green leggings. She removed the mask and to make her look sleepy tossed her hair to create the illusion of having laid on it.

She entered a local ice cream store that stayed open at night and got herself a scoop of peanut butter swirl ice cream. She left and walked back to stark tower just before 3 am. She sat in the dim living room and ate her ice cream and fell asleep after she set the empty paper cup down. Now they were safe.

When Natasha arose the next morning she was greeted with the smiles of her girls. Misty and Avery were safe now, Natasha could rest and enjoy her girls.

Clint saw how soft and easy Natasha's body language was. Definitely not a sign of murder. But Natasha was different. She was tense when Clint finally went to bed, if she had followed his plan to make a course of action shed still be tense. But she's relaxed and calm. She had to have done something.

"you killed them didn't you?" Clint asked after Natasha had shooed the girls off to get their shoes for a little shopping trip.

"I did, they deserved it though. They hurt my babies," Natasha argued.

"nobody saw?" Clint asked

"not a soul. I'm a Russian spy dear, we can do anything without being see or caught." Natasha grinned

"of course you can," Clint sighed

Hope you enjoy ❤️

[lazyea]

Mori Vanitas (twst oc intro)

“My, poor unfortunate one! Would you like a helping hand? Or maybe a free ear? I'll be right there for you~”

A charming boy, always ready to help those in need. He's an expert when it comes to people and latest gossip.

>basic info<

Name: Mori Vanitas

Age: 19(4?)

Sex: Cis male

Species: human

Birthday: 29 February (pisces)

Homeland: Pyroxene

>school info<

Dorm: Pomefiore

Grade: 3rd year

Class: C

Club: None

Best subject: Animal linguistics

Worst subject: PE

Mori's grades are decent, he's among the top in his dorm with straight A's in everything except PE and potionology, which irritates him since he should be well-versed in potions as Pomefiore student, but he balances with a weak B in those two subjects. He should have been a 4th year by now, but due to a mysterious accident that left him in a coma in the beginning of his 3rd year, he had to continue as 3rd year.

>appearance<

Height: 175 cm

Weight: 57 kg

Body type: Ectomorph

Hair colour: Foggy gray (that's literally the green's name tf)

Eye colour: Languid lavender

Mori is a pale-skinned young man of average height. He is horribly underweight, which results in his limbs being thin and his bones clearly visible and palpable, especially his ribcage and pelvis. He has pale, grayish, see-through skin, with his veins and blood vessels looking almost as if they're right on the outside. This also makes his lips and nails have slightly purple colour. He gets bruises from the smallest of impacts that cause the bruises to bloom under his skin for a long time.

Mori has a thin face, almond-shapped slightly hooded eyes and thin small nose. He usually keeps his eyes closed, but when he doesn't, you can see beautiful languid lavender coloured eyes.

He has slick fluffy shoulder-length hair of foggy gray colour that he usually keeps in either one-sided braid or a low ponytail. Sometimes he wears it loose with a small braid on his left side.

Mori can always be seen gently smiling and twirling his hair.

>personality<

Temperament: Choleric

MBTI: INFJ (dunno, it suits him i guess??)

Alignment: Chaotic evil

Mori is a charmer. He's always gently smiling, talking softly and kindly to everyone around him. Others see him as one of the nicest people you can possibly meet in NRC as he's always willing to help and solve any trouble that his underclass men may meet without asking for anything in return. He is cheery and rather positive, constantly searching for the best outcomes of any situation he gets in, working hard to get whatever he needs to get. Other students either have positive opinion about him or no opinion at all and often think that he should have been sorted to RSA instead.

That's his persona, though. The real Mori is a complete opposite of what he pretends to be. The real Mori is a malicious and sadistic person. He is constantly listening to conversations around to use other students' words against themselves. He searches for ways to make things worse for people around him and pulling strings in the background, just to see them struggle and suffer. He enjoys indirectly tormenting others more than anything else. When it comes to his attitude, the real Mori is cold and calculating, hypocritical, rather pessimistic and conceited, believing only in his own superiority and authority.

However, Mori is also incredibly religious, as his father hammered faith in his son's skull from the birth. Mori prays scrupulously every single day for saving his own soul. He believes that he's possessed by some evil entity as there's no other way, why would he be so sadistic and evil. He's well aware of how horrible of a person he actually is and has tried redeeming himself many times only to find himself secretly making things way worse for others instead, so he's stuck with those hypocritical ways. No matter how much Mori prays, though, his situation never gets any better to the point he started to believe that whatever gods there are, they have long abandoned him. Even so, he still believes and prays. Over years and his manipulation skills, charisma and UM development he started to believe that he can be somewhat of a god himself.

He's rarely struck with guilt over his own actions, but he always feels somewhat bad when his “games” backfire to his best and only childhood friend Sig or his family members. He enjoys their suffering as well but suffers at the same time. He's afraid of his dear ones abandoning him due to his vile devilish nature more of than anything else.

>unique magic<

Mori's signature spell is called “For eternity”. It's a surprisingly low cost spell that allows him to leave his own body in a coma like state and wander around freely without any consequences for his body, it will just stay the way it was left when the spell was cast. This way, no matter for how long the body was left, Mori will not age and lose his physical and mental capabilities. He can also even go to the Underworld with his UM, but it will sharply increase the cost of the spell, so he can't stay for too long there. When using his UM Mori can vaguely see light sources, which he normally can't. He also can interact with the world around in a poltergeist like manner that is moving objects and flickering the lights.

>background<

Mori was the first child in the family that owns the most prominent mortuary in Pyroxene. As he was a very welcome child, his parents doted on him and gave him only the best they could possibly get. Until the age of seven, he lived in the capital with his parents, but they decided to move to a secluded area due to his mother's illness and stayed there. There, in a small village Myrthe, Mori went to school, but it wasn't a good experience at all: even though he wasn't bullied he wasn't welcome either as he always required special attention and extra care, meaning that other kids would have to stay in his shadow. There was one kid that wasn't averted by Mori's condition, though, and his name was Sig. Sig became Mori's first and only friend, always accompanying him on adventures in the wilderness or even in the comfort of Mori's own home where they both could do whatever they like as there was practically everything children their age would ever want. Sig was never afraid of Mori's strange behaviour and his interest in burials and death. The quiet kid that Mori was, would always make people avert him, so he decided to put up a persona of that of a charming and caring person in order to be more likeable. He truly thought that one day that lie would become the truth, but it never did. As Mori grew up, people started to like him more, but he never changed. Only Sig knew the truth, but never gave up on Mori, no matter what consequences his actions had.

Mori's family was and is still very supportive of their son, even his small siblings. They all love him with all their hearts, and so does Mori.

>trivia<

Nicknames: Anglerfish(Leech twins), Mole(his family)

Sexuality: Demisexual biromantic

Dominant hand: Both

Favourite food: Spicy pineapple pizza

Least favourite food: Oranges

Talent: Manipulation

Hobby: Embalming

Likes: Other people's suffering, guide dogs, Sig, cold quiet places

Dislikes: sweets, when someone tries to control him, loud and sudden noises, strong fragrances

Pet peeves: Blind jokes

His father and mother are actually from the Island of Lamentation. His dad is a priest and mum is an artist. He has three younger siblings, two twin sisters and one brother.

Mori's mother started calling him "mole" affectionately and later everyone in the family started calling him that. Now he can't take that nickname from anyone but them.

Mori was born cursed, and this curse takes the form of complete blindness that can't be treated by any means. He's also allergic to oranges and has haemophilia.

Mori was shocked to receive the invitation to NRC and Crowley was even more shocked to receive a blind student. The teachers' quickly adapted, though. Mori has special permission to record the lessons on a voice recorder, an actual voice recorder though, not his phone.

Mori has a guide dog back at home, her name is Megara. She is his second dog. The first one died a few years before he came to NRC and her corpse is taxidermated back at his room.

He carries around a cane and sometimes a whistle too.

Mori is so done with blind jokes that he will immediately go for the knees of anyone who dares to joke around him with his cane.

Is based on Charon in general, I've never seen Hercules so I don't know if there's actually Charon, so yeah, he's just created because I like the underworld in Greek mythology.

[ivy-is-fine]

WARNING: long vent underneath; mostly self deprecation so be mindful of that if you decide to read

chat I’m genuinely tweaking out so fucking bad rn I just spent like an hour and half making a custom Minecraft skin and then I accidentally hit something that destroyed all of my progress, RIGHT BEFORE I DOWNLOADED IT YALL I GONNA EXPLODE I KNOW I SHOULDNT BE SO UPSET OVER SIMETHING STUPID AND POINTLESS AND SMALL AS THIS BUT HOLY FUCKING SHIT IM GOING TO CRY AND THEN I DONT KNOW THROW A HAT AT THE GROUND YALL IT LOOKED SO GOOD I LOVED IT AND THEN I FUCKING RUINED IT ILL NEVER BE ABLE TO MAKE IT THE SAME EVERYTHING WAS PERFECT, JUST HOW I WANTED IT TO BE. I KNOW I CAN JUST MAKE ANOTHER AND BE MORE CAREFUL BUT THAT WILL TAKE SO MUCH MORE TIME AND IT WAS SO TEDIOUS THAT TO SPEND MORE TIME WOULD MAKE THE EXPERIENCE EVEN WORSE. CHAT. CHAT IM LOSING MY FUCKING MIND. AND I KNOW IM ONLY SO EMOTIONAL OVER THIS BECAUSE ITS HOT AND MISERABLE AND IM OVERSTIMULATED AND THERES SOMETHING WRONG GOING ON IN MY BODY THATS MADE ME LOSE THE WILL TO EAT AND I HATE MYSELF AND EXISTING FEELS GROSS AND I HAVE NO ENERGY SO NOW IM CRYING JUST AS BAD OVER THIS STUPID, POINTLESS THING AS I DID WHEN MY FUCKING CAT DIED. IM NOT READY FOR THIS SCHOOL YEAR, IM GOING TO BE MISERABLE AND BURNED OUT AND I FEEL LIKE MY BEST FRIENDS DONT LIKE ME EVEN THOUGH I KNOW RATIONALLY THAT THEY DO BUT IM SCARED THAT THEIR OPINIONS OF ME ARE STARTING TO SOUR AND THAT THEYLL LEAVE ME BEHIND JUST AS EVERYONE DOES. GOD IM SO AWKWARD WITH PEOPLE NOBODY LIKES ME I CAN TELL AND I DONT TALK ABOUT ANYTHING INTERESTING OR KNOW ANGTHING ABOUT CARS AND TRUCKS LIEK EVERYONE I EXIST WITH. IM USELESS, I DONT HAVE A JOB, I DONT KNOW HOW TO MOW LAWN OR WEEDWACK OR DRIVE A TRACTOR. IM A WORTHLESS HUMAN WITH ZERO TALENT, ALL I CAN DO IS MAKE USELESS FUCKING ART AND WRITE USELESS FUCKING ESSAYS ABOUT USELESS FUCKING TOPICS. IM SO FUCKING WORTHLESS MY PARENTS SHOULD HAVE KNOWN IT FROM THE START, I COULDNT EVEN EAT FUCKIGN RIGHT. I HATE EVERYTHING ABOUT MYSELF, I HATE BEING A PICKY AND SLOW EATER ITS FUCKING EMBARRASSING I HATE BEING UNDERWEIGHT BECAUSE IT MAKES ME WEAK AND I HATE BEING WEAK BECAUSE IT MAKES ME EVEN MORE USLESS AND EMBARRASSING. I HATE MY SKINNY FUCKING WRISTS AND THE NAUSEA THAT CONSTANTLY STIRS IN MY GUT. I HATE MY STUPID FUCKING OVERBITE AND THE HERBST APPLICATION IN MY FACE TO FIX IT AND I HATE MY CURLY HAIR THAT I DKNT KNOW HOW TO TAKE CARE OF PROPERLY BECAUSE IT LOOKS STUPID AND MY SWEATY ASS PALMS THAT LEAVE MARKS ON THE FUCKING TABLES ARE AWFUL I HATE IT IT MAKES ME FEEL GROSS I WISH I KNEW HOW TO ACT IN PUBLIC I WISH I KNEE WHAT INCOULD DONTHAT WOULD MAKE EVERYONE HAPPY BUT I KNOW DAMN WELL THAT EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE WOULD FUNCTION BETTER WITHOUT ME. I WANT TO BE A PART OF SOCIETY BUT I NEVER KNOW HOW TO ACT, I DONT KNOW WHEN SOMEONE CANT TOLERATE ME. PEOPLE SCARE ME TOO EASILY I WANT TO STAY IN MY ROOM WHERE NO ONE HAS TO SEE ME. I WANT TO SMASH MY HEAD AGAINT A WALL, MAYBE ITLL MAKE ME NORMAL. GOD I CANT FUCKING STAND IT ANYMORE PLEASE I WANT TO KNOW HOW TO FUNCTION NORMALLY, HOW TO MAKNTAIN A HEALTHY WEIGHT, HELL, HOW TO HAVE AN APPETITE. I CONSTANTLY FEEL SICK AND RECENTLY IVE BEEN FEELING SO DETACHED FROM REALITY THAT I CAN HARDLY REGISTER ANY WORDS SPOKEN TO ME AND NO ONE TELLS ME ANYTHING IMPORTANT ANYWAYS LIKE HOW I WAS THE LAST TO KNOW WHERE MY FUCKING CAT GOT BURIED??? NO ONE SEEMED TO FEEL LIEK THAT WA SIMPIRTSNT ENOUGH TO TELL ME!!! IT FEELS LIKE EVERYONE EXPECTS EM TO KNOW STUFF WITHOUT HAVING TO BE TOLD BUT INDONT KNOW!!! I NEVER FUCKING KNOW!! I DOTN KNOW ANHTHING OTHER THAN USELESS PIECES OF TRIVIA THAT WILL NEVER BE USED ANYWHERE AT ALL. UGH I FEEL SO ILL, HUNGRY YET SICK AT THE SAME TIME. STARVING WITH NO DESIRE TO EAT. I KNOW ILL DIE, IM ALWAYS ON THE EDGE WITH DEATH, WAVING ACROSS THE STREET AT EACH OTHER. I DONT WANT TO BE SKINNY. I WANT TO EAT AND BE HEALTHY. BUT I CANT. I DONT KNOW WHY I CANT. I HAVE ACCESS TO FOOD AT ALL TIMES, THERES NOTHING STOPPING ME. I CAN HEAR MY STOMACH BUDDLE AND I CAN FEEL THE HUNGER PANGS BUT THEY DONT SEEM TO TRANSMIT TO MY BRAIN. MY MEMORY IS FAILING ME MORE AND MORE MY THE MINUTE, I CAN FEEL MYSELF

DETERIORATING. GOD IM SO SICK OF THIS THIS GAME ISNT FUN ANYMORE BUT I DONT WANT TO QUIT. ITS HARD BEING THE MEDIATOR, THE LIGHTHEARTED JOKESTER WHO DIFFUSES THE SITUATION AND REMAINS COOL AND CALM. IT FUCKING SUCKS AND I GET WALKED ALL OVER ALL THE TIME.

AND I KNOW THERES MILLIONS UPON MILLIONS WHO HAVE IT HUNDREDS OF TIMES WORSE THAN ME, BUT HOLY FUCKING SHIT LIVING SUCKS. MY BRACES AND HERBST MAKE MY FACE ACHE AND MY KNEES HURT WHEN HIGH PRESSURE SYSTEMS COME IN AND IM SLOW AND DONT PROVIDE ANYTHING FOR A TEAM. MY ARMS FEEL WEAK ALL THE TIME AND MY BRAIN FEELS LIKE AN EMPTY CHAMBER WITH SOME GUNK AND COBWEBS SLOSHING AROUND. GOD IM SO TIRED. EVERY PART OF MY BODY IS TIRED, IM EXHAUSTED THROUGH TO MY BONES AND BACK.

THERES NO GOOD WAY TO CONCLUDE THIS, AND IM SORRY IF YOUVE READ THIS THROUGH(OR AT ALL).

[newyorkkiss]

this week i hit my lowest weight since my ED manifested and it’s the lowest i’ve weighed since i was 18 at least. i never thought my body could drop below a certain point because i’d been trying in ways and failing for 5 years now. so it feels really weird. and i think it’s all really hitting me now. my body feels so much more skeletal than it was like 2, even 3 weeks ago but it still luckily doesn’t look anything out of the norm for me (aka not raising any flags because i have forever looked like a bag of bones) but it’s slowly becoming significant. i’m only a kilogram and a half from where i’d like to be. i could give up now and try and force myself into a “pseudo-recovery” thing and be content but i need that safety net. i just want to drop to the number i want so i can stop purging. i fear the damage it’s already caused or is going to cause if i keep engaging in it. i just want to stop doing it but it just happens without a single thought in my head. it’s hard to even attempt have one day where i do something like starve and give my body a rest (as stupid as it sounds) because it’s so hardwired into my life now. i have to eat something and purge it. i have to. i’ve only done it once but forcing myself to have a second meal hours after i already purged in order to feed myself something was so mentally distressing that i scared myself because it’s like holy fuck, i’ve become a shell of myself?

i know where this all comes from too. i wish i didn’t live in my house anymore but i’m very much tethered to it for a myriad of bad excuses. it feels very selfish in a bad way to say that i’ve been severely underweight my entire life and my highest weight is still significantly underweight and i’ve been plagued with normal people thinking i had an ED growing up because i had kind of odd eating patterns that again, i had my entire life and never caused concern to my parents so why should it ick me? and living under the roof of an extremely fatphobic father who basically reenforces thinness and pretty much has an ED himself just makes it… worse? if i ever gained weight to a significant visually obvious way i would be so ridiculed. my need to whittle myself back down is just to create a threshold where i didn’t tread too far into a normal weight which would make me look rancid and fat in his eyes probably. it feels so strange to say that despite never really enjoying food in any capacity that i miss eating. i miss eating a huge fuck off plate of pasta or spicy noodles. i really hope to eat again soon.

this is probably too much detail but i’ve purged everything i’ve eaten (but the very small amount of things i will allow myself to consume but even then i’ve had moments where i’ve eaten something else with it and said it’s too much even though realistically it isn’t) for nearly two solid months. the last day i ate something and didn’t purge it immediately was when i last left my house. i’ve been rotting here in isolation ever since then. but i think i might be able to go somewhere soon, so i hope i don’t get too scared and can challenge myself to eating something while a very significant distance from home which means i have no choice but to stomach what i consume. it’ll be difficult but it needs to be done.

overall i feel fucking terrible that i’ve relapsed this bad and really thought i could rebuild and re-maintain the purge free streak i had before i relapsed a second time last august (it would have been a whole year by mid september.) i really thought i could re-stabilize myself a smidge post-spoon because before i left the state i was basically purging daily or every other day but still managing to sneak a meal here and there so it was nowhere near the scale of bad that it is now. hell i even said to myself not to make my trip about my ED and not let it get in the way but it basically still did intrude on me. i ate once during the entire 3 days i was gone. didn’t eat at all the day of. how my body didn’t fucking go into some kind of distress from the lack of nourishment and the heat i legitimately have no fucking idea, but my body did feel like it was floating on a very dangerously thin string the entire time. anyways. after that i was almost two months purge free (like days away) until i relapsed again. don’t even remember what triggered it either. but i knew deep down that if i did ever inevitably relapse again it would be fucking worse than the last time. i just really fucking want this to be over in some way. i’m so fucking tired. i’m weak. i don’t know what to fucking do. i just have no choice but to hope the spell runs its course. i just want to move on i want it to fuck off for a good while i’m so sick of having to vent about it constantly. like get a real fucking personality again and not be consumed by this silly fucking disorder. fool!! fool!! fool!!

cat for endurance.

[compassionatereminders]

Tw Ed, medical fatphobia, poor medical health, ableism

Not looking for advice per SE, more just want to get it off my chest and talk about it if that makes sense? Would like some emotional support though

I used to be extremely underweight as a kid cos my mother starved me since I wasn't grateful for food all the time and it led to me developing a lot of problems around food, arfid + anorexia and pica as well, after I moved from my mom's I was at my dad and had a lot of mental health issues that weren't obvious at my mom's but showed at my dad's and I went to psych hospitals a lot and got put on a lot of medication and gained a LOT of weight, fast forward to a few years ago I was having health issues and I went to the doctor and they said I just needed to lose weight so i did, I lost weight way too fast and went down like 80lbs in a couple months and they took me a little bit more serious but they they thought I was just crazy because of my mental health problems so I ended up not going back for a long time and then last year I started to get sicker and sicker and sicker and losing weight slowly so I went back to the doctor for help and they said they weren't concerned since I was still technically overweight and it's not a big deal and so I thought that if I jaut lost a LOT more weight they would take me seriously?? So...I did and I finally got a diagnosis for some of my problems, and my stomach is paralyzed and me losing weight and falling back into my ED likely made it a LOT worse and now I'm stuck in a stupid relapse of an ED and I feel so fucking ashamed about it because I wouldn't even qualify for anorexia anymore, only atypical anorexia, because I'm not quite underweight yet (I'm rlly only a few lbs away) and I'm fucking angry that the medical system is so full of fatphobia and that it bled into me and hurt me because I don't think fat people are bad at all!!! I just want people to actually care about me and take my health problems seriously :(

-bela (it/she)

I am so, so sorry about everything you have been through and all the health issues it has resulted in and I am absolutely furious that the system supposed to help you hasn't been taken you seriously and has in fact actively encouraged unhealthy behavior. That is so fucking terrible and you deserve so much better than this.

[psychomoonlady]

23 / 10/ 22

Starting off this page at 3:57 am on a sunday morning definitely gives a little bit of insight into the slightly unhinged lil story I'm living in. Yes I'll be the protagonist and you could follow me to find out what in the ( and i can't stress this enough) absolute fuck I've been upto lately.

Today let's just say I woke up at 3:30 am , had the sudden urge to turn my life around. Then I read a little bit of Murakami's "Norwegian wood" .

I'll show you the lil note I made that I thought would help in totally changing my life. For the better or worse we'll have to wait and watch.

'Here' refers to the city where my college is. It's a Government Medical College in a pretty big city in Kerala, India and I'm right now hopefully a third year student. I say hopefully since I've still not passed a paper from my second year which if I don't pass in one more chance, I might just get expelled. Absolutely no pressure.

The sweatpants and tees are since I've decided to start going to the gym since two of my friends started going and i have seriously got to do something about my weight. I might be super cute but I'm severely underweight, right now running on 32 kg (70.5 lb). Oh I didn't mention, I'm 22 and I'm yay high. Nah I'm super short standing at a majestic height of 4'9. It's a thing I'm really bummed out about since noone takes me seriously because of my tiny appearance. It particularly affects the way patients interact with me but I do have a good way of speaking in a really mature manner which helps compensate for it.

Now about nitc. National Institute of Technology, Calicut.

How is it related to me? Well that's where my ex boyfriend is studying. I'll tell you about our what i thought was really wholesome relationship in the coming days. I don't wanna spoil everything on the first entry. But the current status is that he dumped me three days ago because he felt that we're incompatible. The box I am planning to send includes some gifts I had bought for him since I didn't know what was coming plus two of his college's tshirts that i don't think wearing anymore would be good for my mental health.

On 25th, my second sessional ( internals) exam would be starting and it ends on 28th . On that day we will have to shift out hostel rooms. And currently my roommate situation is a little bit complicated which I'll tell you about in time. So I need new roommates and texted three of my friends at 5am about the pros and cons of living with me and asked whether they would be interested in doing so. Main pros I mentioned was that am a really chill person who won't judge if they play their music aloud and stuff like that. My clothes fit them almost always so just like how we already do, we can continue to share the wardrobe. Also we could sneak in drinks and we'll drink them occasionally when we feel particularly happy. I don't know of many girls who drinks in the hostel and we usually have to sit on the stairs and drink from seven up bottles pretending it's water and it takes half the fun away.

We could also make the room pretty aesthetic which is something I'm rather fond of that i haven't seen many other people care much about. Another advantage is that we could call proxys for each other which also is not something a lot of people are ready to do. Also since we're really close friends we could comfort each other and be there for each other whenever needed. We could study together but that's entirely upto them and if they don't want to do that it's totally okay.

Buying the bean bag chair is part of making the room aesthetic and comfy but that will only work if the room is big enough. So I'll have to decide whether or not to do it after getting the room.

A single room is something I've always wanted but it's hard to get and there are a lot of disadvantages to it and to be honest I'm not sure about it. But since it has been a dream of mine, I thought I'd give it a thought.

[krunchylegs]

vent :( (tw: 3d)

i feel so gross rn

i ate over 1000 calories and i tried making up for it a little bit by burning off calories (burned 402) but that left only a little over 1000 still, but it gets worse bc idek why i did this but i had some chocolate and even then i went back to the kitchen and ate toast with cream cheese and sliced ham, tomorrow im going to restrict more and try burn more calories by walking (my watch tracks it), on the upside tho tomorrow is a new day and i dont think i went over my limit (1500cals), but even so i try stick around 800cals per day bc its whats easy for me atm (planning to restrict bit by bit but im going easy on myself since ive gotten used to eating whenever i want bc of summer).

i will get over this and i will do better tomorrow, i have to, for myself this is what i need to do. its my choice and i need to stick with that

also the reason i ate so much was bc i made brownies for my family and i ate some, i was meaning not to, im going to bake again soon and my willpower will be stronger next time. i have my safe foods in my room (obvi ones that dont need the fridge) so there will be NO NEED for me to eat anything i bake. i do enjoy baking and guiltily i do enjoy the idea of feeding my family sweet treats while i nibble at my safe food, might take a bite or something so its not weird but i dont want to be the bigger sibling anymore i fucking hate it, i dont want to be the 'normal' sized one when compared to my sister whos skinnier than me. i wanna be the skinny one, idec if thats selfish its just the truth. its so confusing too, she (my sister) says she wants to put on weight, go the the gym and gain muscle or whatever but i just wanna be thin (trying to avoid being skinnyfat obviously :/) but genuinely its so frustrating it feels like ive been stuck in a body that isnt mine, even if im not described as fat im not described as being skinny and it literally upsets me, as childish as it sounds idrc, and this is literally the ONLY way i can even share these thoughts, if anyone knew how i felt theyd think im stupid or weird, probably try tell me i dont need to change how i look, but i NEED to take control, i am sick and tired of being the way i am, i miss having my child body, i miss it so fucking much, i dont know if its because im trans(ftm) or if its because i used to be super skinny as a kid, beautiful legs that i was complimented on and i enjoyed the fact my ribs were visible, but as soon as puberty hit it all went downhill, in locker rooms people would comment that i was skinny and i liked it but that seemed to happen less and less, like have i gotten fat now?? does everyone think im chubby???? maybe im fucking fat and i dont even see it im gonna cry, jesus christ i fucking hate everything.

it makes it so much worse when my sister calls me fat, ik i just said that no one calls me fat but its weird. my sister calls me fat to make me upset, she usually tells me that during arguments, its made me cry so much. like example: i was on holiday recently with my family (dad, mum, sister, me) we were unloading our stuff from the car and my dad told me to put away the food and during the drive my sister and i were arguing the whole time, and when my sister saw me sorting out the food she said "of course youre at the food, fucking fatass" and i literally had to point out to my parents that she was making fun of me literally in front of them, like yeah my mum was all like "dont say that" to her but that doesnt fucking do anything, and my sister just kept going, and my dad had to step in and tell her to stfu and said that if anything i was underweight, but it felt like such a fat lie, especially when my sister IS skinnier than me, it really drives me crazy but at the same time its almost motivating, like i just wanna be sick, i wanna be sickly thin and gross to look at, i miss how i felt when i was skinny, when my legs were so skinny, i miss the compliments i got on my skinny body, for a while i believed i could never get that back but now ik its possible to be skinny again i just need to keep it up, ik i can be super skinny again and i WILL BE, i HAVE to be, theres no other option for me i need it more than anything, i dont care about anything else atm i just want to be thin

[not-scared-of-microwaves]

i feel like i’m losing everything when i only just got it back.

i’m a dancer. that has been a huge part of my identity since i was seven years old. i lost that after corona virus hit, and last semester, i finally started dancing again.

it was the most amazing feeling. dance has always been an escape for me, a way of setting aside everything that was fucking up my mental health etc. has always been this source of joy even when everything else sucked.

around thanksgiving, my hips started to pop and crack. i’m hyper mobile—this isn’t unusual for me. it also wasn’t unusual when they started to ache constantly. my joints always hurt.

but then it got worse. by the start of this month, i was limping bc of how much it hurt. a week after that, i’m barely walking at all, because now my knees and back were effected. Monday, my hip dislocated. it didn’t particularly hurt, and it went right back in place on its own (i’ve always been able to pull my hips and shoulders out of place at will) but after that, it started happening out of nowhere.

today i nearly fell down the stairs twice, because my hip fell out of place and my knees buckled. i caught myself on the rail, but it fucking terrified me. i could live with not taking the stairs, but now the same thing happens when i’m just walking.

my nurse practitioner referred me to physical therapy, but they can’t see me until january, and she inly talked about the fact that i was in pain, she didn’t take the joint collapse seriously. maybe she thought i was being dramatic.

i’m making another appointment tomorrow. my therapist has suggested i ask about hyper mobile ehlers danlos syndrome. from what i’ve read…it makes sense.

and i’m fucking angry. maybe if we had found it sooner i would be dancing next year. maybe i wouldn’t be losing the one thing that brings me joy in my fucked up head if my doctors had noticed my joints all bend backwards (it was my dance teacher who pointed it out and gave me exercises to improve my strength), or that i’m in constant pain because of it, but they were too busy telling me to eat more because i’m tiny and underweight. they prescribed me meds to improve my perfectly normal appetite rather than telling me it isn’t normal to black out when i stand up (oh yeah my therapist wants me assessed for PoTS too)

actually i’m mad about the weight thing too. people think that because i’m thin (size 2 atm) it’s ok to comment on my weight. it’s happened twice in the past two days. this is why i hate the holidays. i don’t want to hear about how you wished you looked like me—not even doctors want me to look like me. they’ve asked me if i’m anorexic, put me on meds for my appetite, taken me off effective depression meds because i was losing weight, sent me to get my growth hormones tested. it isn’t fucking fun. i am terrified of seeing myself in the mirror because of it. it makes me so incredibly uncomfortable to hear people comment on it, treat it like a good thing, or tell me “it’ll catch up with you when you’re older.” it ignores all of the struggles i’ve experienced because of it, and is frankly not any of their business.

i just. i only just got dance back, and now i’m losing it.

edit: i think it’s actually that it’s actually subluxation not dislocation. idk exactly? but they certainly aren’t where they’re SUPPOSED to be,,,,,,

[taiscerayne2426]

MEDICAL ISSUES AHEAD

I'm not asking for money, just need to get some things off my chest

So back in October of 2022, I started having extreme heart palpitations, randomly and seemingly without any provocation. I could be sitting, walking, laughing, eating, even sleeping and my heart would just pound upwards of 130 bpm for 10, 20 minutes at a time. I'd struggle to breathe, fight passing out, and try to stay upright.

As these episodes got more and more frequent and severe, my partner insisted I go into the ER. I didn't have a primary Dr at the time, so I didn't have anyone else to go to. The ER ran a bunch of tests, found nothing at all wrong, and sent me home with a heart monitor.

I met with a cardiologist, and I'll be honest he was by far one of the worst doctors I've ever seen. He dismissed everything I said, belittled my experience, diagnosed me with POTTS, then sent me home on what he said was a beta-blocker to slow down my heart. Fine. Not great, but fine. Until I get to the pharmacy and they say "This isn't a beta-blocker, this is an anti-depressant. I wonder why he told you that?" Never saw that cardiologist again.

Fast-forward to December 2022. My job has let me go because I'm barely able to hold myself upright and can pass out at any time so I'm not medically cleared to drive. My partner is burning both ends of the candle trying to keep me safe and manage his college classes. We're struggling to survive off one income in the city.

My episodes get rapidly worse, then slowly start tapering off until they're only happening once a day. Then it's once a week, but the worst it'd been thus far. Then, for no discernable reason, they stop in February 2023.

I was overjoyed. Finally, FINALLY I could get back to life. We moved to a new town, a smaller quieter place with cheaper rent and less violence. I got a new job nannying two amazing kids and babysitting a third once a week. My partner and I both continued college. Everything was going so, so well.

They came back. About 4 weeks ago, beginning of June 2023. It was slow at first but it's getting worse and worse.

And it's fucking scary, dude. I find myself physically incapable of taking a breath for so long that I sob when it finally comes. It's like everything in my body just. freezes. goes stiff. I can't feel anything, I can't move anything. I can barely signal my partner so he notices. We can't find anything that helps.

I'm not able to drive anymore. I can barely support myself to move from the bed to my desk. I pass out if I stand in the kitchen too long pondering what to eat. I'm on a cane now, for the first time. It helps a bit, makes me feel a bit less useless.

I'm barely eating. Don't have an appetite. I've lost more weight in the last few weeks than I want to admit, and I was already dangerously underweight.

The scariest part, though, is that I can feel myself fighting to hold on every time I have an attack. I fight so fucking hard to stay, because I can FEEL that if I lose consciousness, I'm gone. And it's getting harder and harder to fight. Don't misunderstand, I have no desire to die. I'm fighting for a reason after all. I'm just getting weaker, and it's getting more and more difficult.

I let my PCP know that bit today. She won't see it til she's in the office next, but until this new heart monitor comes off on Monday they won't be able to give me any answers anyway. 2 more weeks. Just 2 more weeks til I hopefully get some results. Because if I don't, I'm... gods. I'm fucking scared.

[howiwashealed]

Breakdown Of Events

I had to go in circles to figure this out. My advice would be to document everything as I have done to make a timeline from the start and keep everything organised, blood tests, MRI’s, hair tests anything kind of medical history.

There has to be an origin point where your problems started, mine was this.

On July 27th 2017, I was finishing band rehearsal late at night and was packing up my car getting ready to go home. I picked up an Orange 4x12 Cabinet and whilst loading it into my car felt an electrical zap in my lower left back (sacrum) in a straight line all the way up to behind my left ear. I didn't like the feeling and felt a little panic at the time because who would like to have that sensation in the body. So the following weeks the only injury I had was a little numbness to my left ring and pinky finger.

Fast forward to 2019 I spent the year being so frustrated with life not going the way I wanted that I stopped eating as much and stopped playing music. I began to crack my neck towards the left everyday and was constantly angry.

Then in March 2020 I woke up one day where everything looked as someone had tilted the entire world to the right. Believing my neck was the cause of the issue I went to see my first ever chiropractor and that's when everything began to go downhill.

I saw my first chiropractor April 2020 and is the reason for this blog. At the time I was underweight, skin and bones due to me eating less because my colitis was flaring up and I found by eating less often I could avoid pain. I kind took fasting to the extreme. My diet was pretty much a coffee with a couple oreo’s in the morning, rice and fish for lunch and then for dinner if I could be bothered I’d cook chicken and rice. 

My Chiro at the time was very charismatic and sociable who explained to me that my whole body was outta whack and how I needed to heal my stomach. I began to get weekly adjustments and each time I would feel worse. I couldn’t figure out why. Initially I thought maybe that’s just what happens to the body as it’s being put into a new alignment but each time the treatments got rougher and I began to feel more drunk, like I was living life in a haze. Around the 4th adjustment I had my neck pulled back and then rapidly twisted. I remember hearing a click and driving home with no change. However 30 mins after getting home and sitting on the floor, I had my first ever panic attack. Something definitely didn't feel right in my body. I once again put it down to stress, thinking there's no way a Chiro could hurt me, when he’s so busy with a revolving door of clients.

I wasn't able to sit without feeling this panic sensation, so I’d opt to walk around or stand. The drunk feeling was 24/7 akin to if you’d spin around on a ride at a playground and then after a minute you'd almost regain your equilibrium but not quite fully. That’s exactly what I had 24/7 hell.

Anytime I’d have to sit I’d slouch so my chin would rest on my chest so I'd gain some stability. Insomnia started and god that was awful. In between sleep, I’d be laying in bed and it felt like I was on a boat moving up and down in turbulent sea. My teeth that were never an issue before began to become sensitive to hot and cold temperatures liquids. 

Heeding my charming chiro’s advice that everything I was feeling was dietary related, I began to eat less red meat thinking the acidity was making it harder to heal my stomach. I did a hair mineral analysis test with Interclinical Laboratories. My results showed a massive toxicity of copper, it was through the roof. So I went down a journey learning about copper toxicity and how it could be giving me all my symptoms and problems. I bought the best supplements I could find LipoNaturals - Vitamin C and began megadosing 5-10grams a day hoping to bring down my levels and alleviate my symptoms.

[boycannibal]

huh so math test this Fucking wednesday i forgot about huh ... huh....