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#i will admit i was in the wrong for being like if i get diabetes i’ll just kill myself is that fair is that fair mom
lostmymind-0 · 1 month
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Sugary sweet | LN4 x Piastri!Reader
Words: 2420
Warnings: diabetes, passing out, hospital
Note: I am not diabetic myself but one of my close family members is, so I wrote this off of how it is for them. I do know that it can be different for everyone and please tell me if I got something completely wrong 🙏
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Lando theoretically knew that it was wrong to have a crush on his teammates sister. He knew that he should not hope for her to be at every race. He knew that it could destroy the friendship he had build with the young Aussi. But Lando could not help but admire Olivia Piastri, the twin sister of his teammate Oscar Piastri. The young girl was an engineering student and did an internship at McLaren, following their engineers and learning directly from them. The first time Lando met the young girl was at testing in Bahrain, where he also found out that she was Oscar’s sister. Both Piastri twins were rather quiet and introverted but Oscar was the more extroverted one even if not by much. Olivia only seemed to really talk when it was about the car and the engineering side of it. She barely chatted with others but instead watched what was happening around her. He mostly sees her when she is shadowing Andrew Jarvis or Will Joseph at race weekends. He tried to make conversation with her but always got interrupted by eighter an engineer, his coach or Oscar.
The Miami GP was the first time Lando got the chance to really talk to the young girl. It was a shitty race for both drivers and the mood in the garage was not too good. Everyone tried to figure out a way to improve the car for the next race in about twenty days. “How is the team treading you?”, Lando asked Olivia as he joined her to take a look at the data. Confused did the girl turn her head to the brit, looking at him with wide eyes. “Are you talking to me?”, she asked, her voice quiet. “Yeah, there is no one else here. So how is everyone treading you?”, Lando joked and repeated his question while leaning against the counter. “Good…everyone is nice to me.”, the girl admitted with flustered cheeks. “Good to hear that. What do you say to the data?”, “The wear on the tire is a bit much and the aerodynamics are also not too good.”, she said quietly. Looking at the data and recalling the race Lando agreed completely with her. They talked a little more about the car and data before Lando lead the conversation a little bit more to personal stuff. To her own surprise did Olivia felt pretty comfortable talking to Lando. Sure she also felt pretty flustered every time he looked at her but she just hoped he would not notice that. “Liv! Where are you?”, Oscar’s voice interrupted the two as he walked up to them. “I am here, Osc.”, the girl told her brother who looked his teammate up and down, trying to see what he was planning. “We are supposed to eat together, remember?”, he told his sister who nodded. Saying goodbye to the brit the twins left.
“How is your sugar? You seem a bit sweaty.”, Oscar asked his sister as soon as they were out of hearing from Lando. “I am fine. A bit high but I am going to correct once we are in the car.”, Olivia told her brother after scanning the small sensor that was hidden by her papaya shirt, with her phone. “How high?”, “232 mg/dL. But like I said I am going to correct it as soon as we are in the car.”, she told her brother but he was not satisfied. “That is pretty high. Why did you not correct it earlier?”, “Osc, my pump broke and I have to correct manually so I had not the time to do so. I am fine, stop worrying.”, the girl told her older brother by twenty minutes. Grumbling something Oscar accepted the answer and lead his sister out of the paddock. He had tried to get her to tell the team about her diabetes but the girl refused. She hated it when people asked her questions about it or treated her different. She also did not want to appear weak, as it was hard enough for a girl in this industry. Being disabled would not help to be taken as serious as a man, so she kept it to herself. It worked out well for now. No one knew, aside form Oscar of course.
As the race in Imola was cancelled due to flooding did McLaren call every one into the factory to try and solve the problems from Miami. The engineers worked their asses off to try and find solutions. Olivia was there the entire time, helping the engineers and learning from their work. They worked for hours on end when Olivia forgot to check up on her sugar levels. She already knew she was low. The fogginess in her brain and the feeling of being dizzy told her that she was in fact very low. But she could not go right now. They were going over the data with Lando and Zack right now. She tried to listen to what everyone was saying when her vision got cloudy. Right as she wanted to say something to Lando did her speech give up. “Lan…”, was all she got out before passing out. Panicked the brit caught her before she could hit her head on the floor. “What the fuck?”, Zack asked and ordered someone to get Oscar as well as calling an ambulance. Laying her down Lando kept her head in his lap, trying to wake her up. “Did she say anything about being not well?”, Zack asked the engineers she had been following. “No, everything was fine. She seemed tired but we all are so we thought nothing about it. Plus you know how quiet she is.”, one told Zack who nodded. Not long after did a panicked Oscar ran into the room. “What happened?”, he asked and kneeled down next to his sister and Lando. “She just passed out.”, Lando told his teammate, nodding Oscar asked, “Where is her phone?”. Looking around Zack found it on the table behind them. Handing it to Oscar, everyone watched the Aussi as he unlocked it and held it against her arm. A beep appeared before Oscar cursed. “What is going on, Oscar?”, Lando asked, worried about the girl he was holding onto his lap. “My sister is diabetic. Her blood sugar dropped very low, that’s why she is passed out.”, Oscar explained and Lando as well as everyone else was quite shocked to learn this. “Why has she not said a word about it?”, Zack asked the Aussi right as the paramedics walked in. “She wants to be taken seriously and worried that she would not be seen as serious if anyone knew about this.”, he explained and then explained to the paramedics what was going on. They gave her an emergency glucose shot and checked her sugars while waiting for the glucose to work. After about fifteen long minutes did Olivia regain her consciousness. “It is okay. Everything is fine.”, Oscar told his sister as she was still disorientated and unable to form words. Together with Oscar did the paramedics took her to the nearest hospital to monitor her and make sure she does not drop this low again. Lando followed them close behind as he could not stop worrying about the girl. “You like her.”, Zack noticed as his young driver was about to get into his car. “Who?”, “Olivia, you like her.”, Zack repeated. Looking at his boss the brit was unsure what to say. “Go and see her. OH, and Lando, tell her.”, Zack laughed before returning into the factory.
Oscar was not surprised to see Lando walking into his sister’s hospital room. She was asleep and stable right now. Her sugar level slowly getting higher. “How is she doing?”, Lando carefully asked. “She is doing fine. Her sugar is getting higher. Come sit down, she should wake up in a bit.”, Oscar said and patted the chair next to his. “I still don’t understand how this happened.”, Lando admitted, blaming himself for not noticing anything. “She most likely forgot to eat anything while working as well as checking her levels. So she slowly got lower and lower.”, Oscar explained, knowing how focused his sister could get. The two were living together as they went together to boarding school and then also moved together after. “And how did she not notice anything earlier or someone else?”, “She can get very low and still function some times, so it is very hard to tell from the outside. Especially if you don’t know. She most likely knew that she was low but thought she could make it a bit longer.”, “How low was she?”, Lando asked, curious. He did not knew a lot about diabetes but wanted to learn as much as he could. Thinking Oscar said, “Under fifty for sure. Her sensor just said low so it had to be below that. I would guess around 30. Maybe a little lower or higher.”.
After what felt like an eternity for Lando, did Olivia woke up. “Where am I?”, she groaned and sat up a little, now noticing the brunette sitting next to her brother. “In the hospital. You passed out from being low. Again.”, Oscar kind of scolded her, but the truth was that he was always worried about her and her wellbeing. Nodding the young girl tried to remember what happened exactly. “Please tell me I did not pass out in front of Zack and all engineers? Please, Osc.”, she whined, remembering where she was and what she had been doing as she passed out. “I am sorry but you did. I am going to get you some food and a nurse.”, he claimed and left his teammate and sister alone to talk. “You freaked me out, Pastry.”, Lando stated, making the girl blush. “I am sorry. I did not plan this.”, she mumbled, feeling a lot more shy as she was alone with Lando. “I think you also freaked out everyone else. But how are you feeling?”, Lando said and sat down next to her, where Oscar used to sit. “I am better. I should have taken care of my sugar level earlier. It is embarrassing to end up in the hospital because of this. Even more passing out in front of my boss. Do you think Zack will fire me?”, she now panicked. Chuckling at her panic Lando took her hand in his and calmed her down, “Zack wont fire you. No one is going to take you less serious now. Everything is good, love.”. Heat rushed into her cheeks as she heard that nickname. “Thank you, Lando.”, she whispered and looked at him. His eyes were beautiful as well as the little smirk he wore on his lips. “Do you like what you see, love?”, Lando teased her, leaning closer. As she turned her head to avoid his piercing look did his warm, big hand cup her cheek. Turning her head to him. Tension grew as they both slowly leaned into each other. Like magnets. Lando did the last step and closed the gap between them. Connecting their lips in a kiss. Slow at first to give her the chance to back out. To his surprise did she not back out but instead grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer. His hand was in her hair by now, holding her close to him. “What the actual fuck!?”, someone yelled, making the two jump apart. Lando almost fell off the chair as he turned to the door. There stood Oscar. A tray with food in his hand and a giggling nurse behind him. “Osc…I…we…”, Olivia stuttered completely flustered. Lando on the other hand tried his best not to giggle. The girl he had the biggest crush on just kissed him back so his ego was a little blown up. “I think I need to bleach my eyes out.”, Oscar stated dramatically as he put down the food next to his sister on the table. To everyone’s luck did the nurse intertwine, “Miss Piastri how are you feeling? I assume better?”, “Yeah…I feel better.”, Olivia said and bit her lip to try not to blush even more. “I am glad to hear this. We are going to check your sugar level one last time before we let you go.”, the nurse said and tested the sugar level one more time. It was almost completely back to normal. “Okay, we are going to keep you for about an other hour and then you are free to go home.”, the nurse said and left the three alone.
The hour was the longest in Olivia’s life. To say that it was awkward to sit in the room with your crush, who just kissed you and your brother who walked into said kiss when they were teammates was not the most fun. In hopes of help did she even text her mother. But due to the time difference did she not answer her. “Can we please address this? Or I am dropping again due to anxiety.”, Olivia finally said. Both boys looked at each other before looking at her. “Do you have serious intentions with my sister?”, Oscar asked Lando. It was not what Olivia had expected Oscar to say but it was a start. “I do. I really like her.”, Lando told him, in a tone Olivia did not knew from him. it was very serious and not a hint of sassiness in it. letting out a very long and overly dramatic sigh did Oscar say, “Fine. I will not say anything against this if my sister really likes you, what I think as she kissed you, but the moment you hurt her will I push you into the wall with my car. Now if you excuse me. I still need to bleach my eyes.”. With a kiss on the forehead did Oscar left Olivia alone with Lando. “So we both like each other. How about I take you out on a date? We can go out as soon as you are free to go.”, Lando said excited. Smiling a little Olivia took his hand telling him, “I would love to go on a date with you but I think I don’t have the energy to go out right now. How about we stay in and maybe watch a movie or something like that? Or game?”, “You game?”, Lando asked surprised. Feeling a little shy again she admitted, “A little but not on stream or anything.”.
Part 2
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boomhauer · 2 years
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In An Emergency
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Had a lapse in sanity and deleted this. Its back and here to stay. 
Summary: Diabetic!Reader has an episode and Eddie is there to take care of them.
A/N: Hope yall enjoy. Feedback greatly appreciated. 
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You sat at the end of the Hellfire Club table for lunch and nervously drummed your fingers on the tabletop. It had come out in a moment of weakness that you had a crush on Eddie and you were nervous as hell that Dustin, who continuously wiggled his eyebrows at you anytime Eddie addressed you, would spill the beans. 
You didn’t mean to let it be known. Dustin was annoyingly perspective and flat out asked you in the library one day. Before you could speak out a denial, your face had turned burgundy, giving you away. Dustin begged and pleaded that you allow him to tell Eddie, stating that it may work out in your favor. Still, you explicitly forbade it, which led Dustin to be annoyingly obvious and tease you constantly, making you want to vomit from anxiety every time the three of you were in the room together. 
“Y/N,” Eddie called, snapping you out of your anxious thoughts. “All good?”
You smiled weakly. “Yeah, I’m—“
“Enthralled by your stunningly good looks,” Dustin smirked. 
“Eat shit, Dustin!” You snapped angrily, rolling your eyes. 
“As much as I wish that were true,” Eddie grinned. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”
It was true. You did start to feel alarmingly queasy. Your sweaty hands began to tremble and sweat started to form on your brow. You knew what this meant and you began to feel too ill to be pissed off about it. “I think I just need some Tylenol or something. Headache. I’ll see you guys later.” You got up from your seat and could instantly felt yourself getting dizzy. You quickly sat back down, feeling faint. 
Eddie jumped from his spot and came to your side. “I’ll walk with you to the nurse’s office. Make sure you get there okay.”
“Ever the gentleman, Munson,” you teased faintly. If you had any sense about you, you would be blushing and nervous tucking y/h/c behind your ear, but you didn’t. Your main focus was getting to the nurses’ office and getting your medication. 
Being a diabetic was a real pain in the ass. You had to monitor how many carbs you ate, constantly pricking your finger for glucose checks, and frequently having these episodes of downright misery. You begged your parents for one of those pumps the doctor talked about, but it was much too expensive, which left you no other choice than four, sometimes six shots in the stomach per day. 
Even though you felt like you were walking on wobbly stilts and sweating like a fiend, you couldn’t help but notice Eddie’s closeness to you, your shoulders brushing each other. It made you grin through the nausea. 
You hadn’t meant for this crush on Eddie to form. You had just moved from out of state and didn’t know a single soul. You didn’t have any special skills or talents. You weren’t in band, didn’t cheer or play sports, weren’t particularly artistic or theatrical. You accidentally sat at the hellfire table on your first day, thinking that the kid at the other end wouldn’t mind, but you were wrong. As more people shuffled into the cafeteria, the more the table filled, and the more uncomfortable you became at the stares that met your gaze. No one said a word, until Eddie came to the table. 
Shaggy, wavy brown hair that flowed over his shoulders, round brown eyes, and a grin that took your breath away. He didn’t seem to notice you at first, until he realized no one was paying attention to what he was saying. 
Your eyes met and you could feel the blush creep up your neck. 
“Hi,” he smiled. “Lost?”
“Sort of,” you admitted shyly. “Today is my first day here.”
“Well, sweetheart, let me fill you in. If you sit with us, no one will ever speak to you. They think we’re a satanist cult because we like to play D&D. Heard of it?” he asked.
You nodded. “I have. My stepdad plays it, but I don’t. I just like to paint the miniatures for him.”
A couple of the guys seemed to be choking on air, while two of them high-fived. Eddie placed his hands over his chest like he had been shot and sighed. “A woman after my own heart!”
You giggled and brushed y/h/c behind your ear. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N,” said. 
“Nice to make your acquaintance, m’lady,” Eddie bowed. “I’m Eddie, the Dungeon Master, this is Gareth, Jeff, Dustin, and Mike. A couple more will be joining us soon if you’re not too scared to sit with us.”
“Why would I be scared?”
“Like I said. People think we’re into human sacrifice and cannibalism,” Eddie shrugged. 
“Are you?” You teased, raising your eyebrows. 
“No,” the boy named Mike snorted. “Just these overzealous whack jobs think anything to do with fantasy creatures is the work of the devil.”
“Trust me, I know,” you sighed. “My grandmother wouldn’t let me watch The Smurfs because they’re blue and have blue lips. And you know what else blue lips? Corpses. So little blue people who live in a mushroom village are products of necromancy and satan worship.”
“Totally,” Eddie agreed with a curt nod. “Don’t forget Skeletor from He-Man.”
“Absolutely,” you agreed. “Not to mention that He-man is an idol because only God can have that kind of power.”
Eddie cackled as he popped a tater tot into his mouth. “I’m glad we understand each other, Y/N”
And it was true. You and Eddie did understand each other. You often laughed together, joked around, stayed late after campaigns to paint miniatures together. But you were never truly alone. There was always a third wheel around, reminding you that you were strictly friends and nothing more. He wasn’t overly touchy, only occasionally placing his hand on the small of yourself back to usher you somewhere, or every once in a while picking a stray strand of hair off of the back of your shirt. Even though the contact was minimal, it still made your cheeks burn and your heart stutter. 
As you rounded exited the cafeteria, you felt Eddie place his hand on the small of your back. “Hey, listen,” he started, clearing his throat. “I was wondering if maybe you wanted to hang out later. Just the two of us.”
Your face paled even more. “That little shit!” You exclaimed, feeling your heart pound harshly in your ears. “What did he say to you?”
Eddie furrowed his brow in confusion. “Who?”
“Who? Dustin, that’s who! Don’t play dumb, Eddie.”
“What are you talking about?” he questioned, removing his hand from your back. 
“Dustin told you, didn’t he? He told you that I liked you and now you think you have to ask me out!” you exclaimed, your hands shaking violently as you wiped the sweat from your forehead. “He had no—“
Eddie held up his hands in surrender. “Whoa whoa whoa, hang on,” he interrupted. “Dustin didn’t say anything to me. I’ve been trying to muster up the courage to ask you out since you busted out that Rush mixed tape. I mean, I already thought you were gorgeous and amazing, but that just really sealed the deal for me.”
You couldn’t believe it. You had to have heard him incorrectly. Or you were just hallucinating because of the plummeting blood sugar. “You like me?”
“Uh, hell yeah, I do!” he answered with a toothy grin. “I never dreamed that you would like me back though.”
You could feel yourself slipping. Quite literally. You fell forward into Eddie’s chest and would have crashed to the floor if he hadn’t caught you. 
“Hey, there can only be one showman in this duo, and I hate to say it, but it’s gonna be me,” Eddie teased. His smile faltered when he saw your eyes begin to wander and felt you tremble in his arms. 
“Y/N?!” he screamed, lightly tapping your cheeks. “Y/N!?”
“Juice,” you sighed weakly, trying to instruct yourself to stand. 
“Jews?” Eddie repeated. “Shoes? What are you saying?”
“Juice,” you muttered before losing your sense completely. 
Eddie kept yelling your name and trying to shake you. His loud screams caught the attention of a teacher and a couple members of the club, who came bursting out of the cafeteria.
“Munson! Are you incapable of—What happened?!” Mr. Sanderson yelled, dropping to his knees beside you. 
“I don’t know!” Eddie shouted. “She said something about Shoes and she passed out!”
Dustin kneeled next to Eddie and yelled “Quick, kiss her!”
“She’s not sleeping beauty, you idiot!” Eddie hollered, shoving Dustin away from him. “Teach, help me take her to the nurse.” 
Eddie grabbed your ankles while Mr. Sanderson grabbed your arms and they dragged you to the nurse’s office. “Nothing to see! Get to class, all of you!” Mr. Sanderson barked at the whispering students. “Now!”
When they got you into the nurse’s office, Eddie began frantically telling the nurse what happened. She didn’t seem to hear him as she darted to a cabinet and pulled out a bright orange box
“Hey! HEY! Are you even listening to me?” Eddie yelled as he saw the nurse take out a large needle and a tiny vial. 
“No, Mr. Munson, I’m not!” Nurse Joy shouted back. “I’ve been a nurse longer than you’ve been alive and I know what I’m doing! Now shut up and help Mr. Sanderson roll her on her side!”
Eddie did as he was told and pushed you onto your right side, gently stroking your hair as Nurse Joy plunged the needle into the back of your arm. “What is that?” he questioned. 
“Glucagon, Mr. Munson,” Nurse Joy replied, discarding the vial and needle into a plastic bin. “You’ve been a great help. You can go to class now. I got it from here.”
“No,” Eddie refused, shaking his head frantically. “No, I want to stay with her.”
“Fine. Grab that trash can and put it under her,” Nurse Joy instructed. “Keep her on her side, don’t let her roll over!”
Eddie did as he was told and knelt by your side, watching as your eyes started to move back and forth. He felt like an absolute ass. If he hadn’t picked the absolute wrong moment to ask you out, you wouldn’t be unconscious in the dingy broom closet the school deemed the infirmary. He continued to stroke your hair until you started to cough.
“Unless you want to hold her hair, I’d back away now, Mr. Munson,” Nurse Joy advised, placing a towel underneath Y/N’s cheek. 
Piecing together what was to happen next, Eddie stood behind your back and smoothed your hair into a ponytail as you emptied the contents of your stomach into the trash can below. 
“There you go, dear. There you go. That’s it,” Nurse Joy cooed, rubbing your arm gently as you continued to spew.
“What’s wrong with her?” Eddie frowned. 
“If she wants to tell you, that’s up to her,” Nurse Joy replied. “I’m going to get some juice. Keep her on her side until I get back.”
“Juice. I’m a fucking idiot,” Eddie muttered to himself. 
Y/N tried to roll onto her back, but Eddie stopped her. “Hey, stay on your side. Don’t move.”
“Eddie?” you asked weakly, starting to regain consciousness.
“I’m here,” he replied, rubbing your back. 
“Oh god!” you yelped, burying your face in your hand. “Jesus Christ please don’t let this be real!”
Frowning, Eddie went around the table to face you. He could see tears streaming down your face as you tried to hide your eyes from him. “Hey, relax. You’re safe.”
“Great,” you muttered bitterly. “Glad you got to see me in all my glory.”
Eddie pried your hands away from your eyes and held them in his. “Listen, I don’t care about any of that. Are you okay?”
You blinked fresh tears out of your eyes. “No, I am not okay! You May not care but I do. How embarrassing to pass out and puke in front of your crush. It’s mortifying!”
“If it will make you feel any better, I will shit my pants right now,” Eddie said. 
You chuckled as he wiped the tears from your face. “Thanks, but that’s not necessary.”
“Welcome back,” Nurse Joy said, placing a tall glass of orange juice and a packet of peanut butter crackers next to you. “Help her sit up.”
You sat up and drank the glass of juice. When you were finished, you held out your hand to Nurse Joy and winced as  jabbed the tip of your finger with a lancet. 
“Brutal,” Eddie commented with a frown. 
“62. You know the drill, Ms. Y/L/N. Eat some crackers and we will check again.”
You nodded and sighed, leaning your head back against the pillows. You knew you had to tell Eddie what happened, but you were still embarrassed. You wanted the earth to swallow you whole. You were certain that you had to be escorted to the infirmary, which meant more than Eddie saw you pass out. You were already thought to be weird for hanging out with Eddie and the other misfits, you didn’t need to be titled Fainting Freak as well. 
“My body hates me and tries to kill itself on a daily basis,” you blurred out, meeting Eddie’s gaze. 
“Why?” He asked tenderly. 
“I have diabetes. Type One. I was diagnosed when I was seven and will have it for the rest of my life,” you explained. “It's why I always come here after lunch and when I start to feel dizzy. It means my blood sugar is dropping and I need to eat or drink something to get it back up.”
“I thought you were just so overwhelmed with joy that I asked you out that you just couldn’t contain yourself,” Eddie grinned. 
Your face started to redden again. “Well yeah, that too,” you chuckled. 
Eddie kissed your forehead, making your heart soar. You would have brought his lips down to yours if you hadn’t just puked your guts out. He reached over and grabbed the peanut butter crackers. You attempted to take them from him, but he turned away and opened them. “Say ahh,”
You opened your mouth and let him give you the cracker. You hated peanut butter crackers, but it was the standard treatment for hypoglycemia alongside orange juice. 
 “You know, I can keep these in my lunch box so if you ever get shaky, you can take care of it,” he offered. 
“Thank you. Though if I could request some candy like starbursts instead of these peanut butter crackers? I don’t like them,” you smiled. 
“Ooh, I don’t know. I’m a sucker for starbursts. They may not last long around me,” he teased. “I’m kidding. You can have whatever you want.” 
Nervously, you began to fiddle with the hem of your shirt. “Can you not tell anyone about the diabetes? I don’t want everyone to know. Just you.”
“You got it, babe,” Eddie winked. 
After a few minutes, Nurse Joy checked your sugar again and was satisfied with the 85. She let you go under strict instructions to monitor yourself and follow the protocol if you started to feel symptomatic. You agreed, and left the infirmary hand in hand with Eddie.
“Best first date ever?” He teased, nudging you with his elbow. 
“Totally,” you snorted. “Let’s never do it again.”
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broflovski-brah · 2 months
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im being self indulgent so here’s a fix of kyle being sick and sheila taking care of him
“Care for You”
Warnings: Sickness, overeating, stomachaches, the works in a sickfic.
Kyle’s immune system had always been fucked. Ever since he was born he was burdened with having the immune system of a damn squirrel. So oftentimes he would be bombarded with an onslaught of different sicknesses. Fevers. Chills. Colds. Stomach bugs. Flu. You name it, he probably had it at some point. It also didn’t help that he was diabetic, so his immune system was even more compromised.
He knew something was wrong from the moment he woke up. He had felt a sharp throbbing in his abdomen. His stomach twisted inside him. He assumed it must’ve been hunger, though he couldn’t recall feeling hungry that quickly after waking up. He sat up and was instantly hit with a dizzy spell. He groaned and buried his face in his hands. He contemplated going back to bed but he knew that it was a Saturday. Which meant game nights with the boys. And Kyle had promised he would be there since he hadn’t been to the last few because of the unfortunate timing of his sporting events.
But there was another thing he had to get past now, besides the feeling of his stomach swimming inside him. His mom.
Kyle loved his mom to death. He really did. She was there for him whenever he needed her. She was his rock. She listened to his problems and made him feel better when he needed her most. But Jesus Christ could she be overbearing. Not to mention observant. He checked his clock.
“11:30?! Fuck…”
He hadn’t even realized he had been passed out for that long. He was surprised his mom hadn’t come barging into his room to make sure he wasn’t dead. Oh well. Up and at ‘em.
As soon as Kyle swung his feet over the bed, another wave of dizziness washed over him. He let out a low groan and a dry belch, which tasted like death. He scrunched up his face and smacked his lips a bit to get the taste out of his mouth. He knew something was definitely wrong. Probably some digestive issue. But would he admit that? No. No he would not. He powered through and managed to stand up, changing into a loose t-shirt and jeans. He noticed his stomach looked kind of bloated. Likely as a result of the sickness. He sighed to himself in a mix of frustration and annoyance before pulling his shirt over his head.
He began rummaging through his drawer, trying to find his insulin and blood sugar monitor. He set everything up on his desk. It was hard to focus with how dizzy he was and blurry his vision was. He managed to force his eyes into focusing by putting on his glasses. God he hated them. His diabetes had messed with his vision, thus he needed either glasses or contacts, which unfortunately, the former seemed like the safer option. He knew he probably didn’t have the stability to put in contacts at the moment, with how shaky his hands were. And he really didn’t have the time, nor patience to fight with contacts at the moment.
He squinted a bit as he set up his lancet. He pocketed the lancet, the insulin and the glucose monitor and went downstairs, praying Ike wasn’t in the bathroom. Kyle was sixteen and Ike was eleven, thus sharing a bathroom had become a lot less…convenient. He also prayed he wouldn’t pass by his mom. He didn’t want her to worry about him if she saw how sick he looked.
After managing to sneak downstairs, he knocked on the bathroom door, to which Ike responded. “I’m busy!”
“Fuck…” Kyle uttered. He sat down at the table, just as his mom walked in.
“Kyle, bubbi! I was getting worried about you. You don’t normally sleep this late!” she rushed over to him, putting her coffee cup down. He hoped she wouldn’t look too closely to his face. “Hey, Ma.”
Shit. His voice was croaky and clearly gave him away His mom’s smile dropped. She squinted at him.
“Kyle, dear. Are you feeling alright? You look sick.”
Kyle inwardly cringed. He would’ve much rather preferred to just go back to bed and not put up with Cartman’s bullshit, but it was Game Night. And he promised Stan he would be there. Kenny too. And he couldn’t let those two down. So he pulled himself together.
“Yeah, I’m okay. Just think my blood sugar’s a bit low.”
It wasn’t a complete lie. It could’ve been too low. Or high. The symptoms were really similar, albeit the sudden ravenous feeling inside that told him to eat. That was definitely a sign of low sugar. But it certainly wasn’t just that. It was also the fact that he felt minutes away from barfing his guts up if he had any contents in his stomach to throw up. His mom squinted at him, as if she were sizing him up. She had gotten off his ass a lot more now that he was older and could be trusted with more things, but she was very firm when he was sick.
“Okay…check your blood sugars and if you’re still feeling ill, tell me.”
He nodded. He knew he probably wouldn’t, regardless of whether he still felt sick or not. But he needed her to think he was okay enough. Especially if he was gonna be driving himself there.
After about ten minutes, Ike got out of the bathroom. He hugged Kyle quickly around his stomach, which sent a jolt of nausea through him. He kept a straight face though as he hugged back lightly. “Mornin’.” he smiled a bit as Ike went off to say hi to his mom.
He went onto the bathroom and sat on the toilet seat. He set up his lancet and lancing device after washing his hands thoroughly and drying his hands off. He knew that the sickness-induced clammy hands would probably mess up his reading, or it would ruin the stuff he was using, so he knew he needed to act fast. He set out his blood monitor and testing strips before inserting a clean lancet into his lancing device He set the puncture deepness to a level 3. He pricked his finger and watched a bead of red blood ooze from the wound. He quickly reached for the blood monitor, watching the blood be pulled into the testing strip. While he waited for his reading, he shakily bandaged his finger and threw out his lancet. The monitor beeped again.
65.6 mg/dL.
“Crap…”
That was the last thing he wanted. The biting nausea in his belly had been enough to nearly keep him bedridden on his ass, and now that he had to eat something sugary? With his stomach being as upset as it was? He honestly couldn’t tell if the grumbling in his belly was from the dull nausea that pricked at him or the hunger. Intense hunger was kind of an old friend to him. A symptom of low blood sugar, which was much more common in Type 1 diabetics (such as himself) than Type 2 diabetics. In the end though, he had chalked up the illness to his low blood sugar. It would explain a lot. He walked out of the bathroom where his mom was waiting.
“Are your sugars okay, bubbi? Do you feel okay?”
“65.6.” he replied, feeling a mix of biting hunger and nausea grabbing at his stomach as a loud, rumbling gurgle squeezed its way through his stomach. He felt his cheeks redden a bit. If there was one thing that set his mom off, it was that. Her eyes widened, both at the news of his low sugars and the rumble coming from her son’s midsection. She acted quickly and grabbed him a juice box. She tossed it to him before speed walking off to the kitchen. Kyle felt a bit guilty as he stood, but a sudden bout of dizziness caused a small groan to rip from his throat.
“Ma, you don’t-“ she cut him off.
“Just sit there, Kyle. You need to eat. Drink your juice and get your sugars up a little bit. At least until I’m done here. Okay?”
He hated the way she looked at him. The worry in her eyes. The way she went into fight or flight mode as if he was gonna drop dead in a matter of minutes. He supposed it was because of both his premature birth and the fact he was a rainbow baby. It had caused Sheila to become very overprotective of him. But he hated seeing his mother worry. But he physically didn’t feel well enough to argue, so he succumbed to his ill state and began drinking his juice box.
His mom came back with a bowl of yogurt. There were some fruits in there, but she had been caring in the means that she didn’t add bananas. Kyle was not a picky eater, but he couldn’t stand even the sight of bananas. It was clear that this would surely bring his sugars up at least. The sight of food caused a dull ache of hunger to grip at his stomach as his mother sat next to him.
“Eat up.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. He wolfed it down like he hadn’t seen food in a week. His mom couldn’t help but smile. Ever since he had entered high school his appetite had completely skyrocketed. By the time he was done, he was feeling a little better. Not as nauseous. He figured it would go away with time. He stood up to clean his bowl in the sink and gave his mom a soft hug from the side.
“Thanks, Ma.” he said, a small grin tugging at his lips. She smiled and hugging him back tighter, managing to squeeze out a hiccup, which was quickly followed by his hand flying to his mouth as he burped a little. This caused her to laugh a bit.
“Aww, still the same as you were little.” she commented, to which Kyle rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his curly hair. “Yeah, yeah…” he laughed a little before cleaning off his dish. He went back to the bathroom to finish getting ready He switched his glasses out with contacts. His hair was more messy and unkept than usual, but it was nothing that his trusty trapper hat couldn’t fix. He brushed through it as well as he could and went through his normal routine before throwing his hat on. He grabbed his coat and keys before hugging his mom goodbye.
“Don’t be home later than 10, Kyle.” she said firmly. “We’re having your favorite for dinner tonight.” Kyle nodded and smiled a bit. “Got it. Love you, mom.” He poked his head into the living room, where Ike was playing on the Xbox. “Bye Ike. Love you.” Ike got up quickly and hugged his brother. “Love you too!” he chirped before rushing back to his game. Kyle’s mom watched him walk out. “Drive safe, Kyle! Keep your eyes on the road! Love you more!”
Kyle couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he got into his car and drove off. He seemed to. be in the clear, sickness wise…
For now.
“God damnit!”
Cartman’s angry voice rang through the air as Kyle laughed. He had just kicked Cartman’s ass for the fourth time in Smash Bros. This had been going on for a while. Stan and Kenny were watching this all play out. Cartman was the first one out, just as he had been for the last little bit. Eventually Kenny was the second one out. So it came down between Stan and Kyle. The two trash talked each other a bit as they played before Stan eventually topped Kyle.
“Fuck!” Kyle cursed loudly, hitting his knee with his fist as he glanced at Stan. “Kiss my ass.” Stan commented, shoving Kyle lightly. Kyle rolled his eyes.
Eventually, Cartman’s mom had brought out a bunch of food. Kyle’s eyes widened. Stan looked a bit appalled and Kenny looked like his eyes were gonna pop out. It was a lot of food. A lot. And Cartman’s mom was an amazing cook…so Kyle kinda braced himself for overeating. But he didn’t wanna eat too much, he knew his mom was cooking something for when he got home but it was only six o’vlock. He figured it would be digested by then. So he sat down with the rest of the boys before he began to indulge himself.
He sat alongside the rest of the boys. Cartman was wolfing it down like he hadn’t had food in years. Kenny was too, but it was understandable for him. Poor kid was lucky if he ate at all on the weekends. Even then the only meal he usually got during weekdays that was ensured was the school’s lunch, which was free to those who couldn’t afford it. Other than that he could expect a pop tart or a waffle when he got home. But that wasn’t anything like it used to be now that Kenny was in his teenage years. Kyle felt awful for him. Stan seemed to be taking things in moderation. He already had a weak stomach that was easily triggered, so he knew if he ate too fast he would end up with a massive stomachache.
“Fuck. Cartman’s mom’s a damn good cook. If I got meals like this every day I would be just as fat as Cartman.”
That got a snort out of Kyle, who nearly choked on his food as Cartman yelled at Stan. Kenny seemed to be losing his shit before going back to stuffing his mouth and occasionally slipping a few bites into his pockets when he thought nobody was watching.
Eventually, the four finished up the meal. Cartman let out a huge belch, which caused the rest of the group to roll their eyes in disgust.
“That’s fucking sick.” Kyle snapped at the brunette, which just caused him to laugh.
“Like you’re so innocent, Kahl. God, you’re such a fairy.” Cartman retorted sharply. Kyle just rolled his eyes before hearing a much louder, more disgusting burp from the other side of the room. All eyes snapped to Kenny, He had his parka pulled over his face as he blinked innocently, as if he didn’t do anything. The silence was quickly broken by laughter as Kenny just averted his eyes as if he had done nothing wrong.
“God, you two are sick.” Stan said, wiping a tear from his eye. He stood up, stretching out a bit. Kyle followed suit, yawning a little. He suddenly felt very fatigued. A small headache ripped at his skull, but he ignored it for the time being.
It couldn’t be anything. Probably just from spending the last five hours playing video games.
Right?
After the meal, the boys went back inside to finish up their video game tournament. It didn’t take much for him to feel a pinch in his stomach. It felt like a sudden punch to the gut. A small, but low groan ripped at Kyle’s throat as he clutched his stomach. He hoped nobody noticed. Eventually, Stan noticed.
“Dude, are you okay?” Stan asked. “You don’t look so hot.”
Kenny suddenly approached too, to see what was going on. “Yeah, Kyle. You look like you’ve got a fever or somethin’.”
Kyle opened his mouth to answer, but quickly brought a hand to his mouth to muffle what might’ve been the kraken of burps. It wasn’t pretty sounding. Nor did it feel relieving like it normally probably would’ve. It felt wet. Like it was leading up to something. Stan’s eyes immediately widened and Kenny gripped Kyle’s arm. Cartman looked up from the TV and came over.
“That’s fucking sick.” he mocked Kyle’s tone from before. Nobody laughed though. Kyle’s eyes were wide as he felt saliva pool in his mouth. He shook his head. “Not now.” He managed. Cartman just rolled his eyes, not seeming to get the hint.
“What, are you gonna be sick or something? Too much food for you?” he teased. Kyle’s shoulders heaved as his stomach gave a low, sickly rumble. He glared daggers at Cartman, shaking violently. But not from anger, but from illness. He shoved Cartman back with the last bit of strength he had. It made Cartman stagger a bit.
“I said not-“
He was cut off by a much more retch-like belch. His shoulders heaved as he gagged. Cartman seemed to understand what was going on.
“Oh Jesus Christ, I swear to God if you throw up-“
And, as if in cue, a thick stream of vomit escaped from the ginger’s mouth and went all up the front of Cartman’s shirt. Cartman was frozen in place. Looking like a deer in the headlights.
“Kahl! What the fuck?!”
“Woah, sick dude!”
“Jesus Christ!”
Cartman shoved Kyle away from him, but he didn’t seem done there. He let out another retch before surprisingly, Kenny was the one who took action. He was used to sicknesses. His family couldn’t afford vaccinations (nor did they believe in them) and he was probably the most sickly teen in all of South Park right after Kyle. Karen used to get sick a lot too, and he was used to caring for her. Kenny grabbed Kyle by the arm and helped him to Cartman’s bathroom. He helped Kyle kneel down in front of the toilet and pulled his hair back gently. It was a bit too late though as Kyle got a bit of vomit on Kenny’s parka. He coughed up bile into the toilet and finally sat back.
“Fuck, I’m sorry…” he croaked hoarsely as he noticed the vomit on Kenny’s parka, to which Kenny just shrugged it off.
“It’s fine. I’ve had worse.”
He propped Kyle up against the bathtub and sat beside him. He closed the lid to the toilet and flushed down the vomit. Kenny crossed his legs.
“Didja feel sick this whole time, or?”
It was a simple question. But hefty, for Kyle, who sighed.
“I woke up this morning feeling like shit. I figured it was my sugars…” He hated talking about his diabetes. He felt like a ripoff version of Scott Malkinson while doing so. He preferred to keep his dignity. But he knew he could be honest to Kenny. Kenny was a better friend than he got credit for. “And my sugars were low this morning, so I figured that was why…I felt a bit better, but still felt like I had a weird cold or something, but no big deal. I guess it was a bigger deal than I thought, huh?”
He wiped stray ribbons of saliva from his mouth before standing up with Kenny’s help, who nodded understandingly. “I’m not gonna tell. Do you wanna go home?”
Kyle checked his watch. It was 8:30. He kinda did wanna go home and just be in the comfort of his own bed, with his family…so he nodded a bit. Kenny stood up and held his arm gently. “Let me help you out.”
As soon as he got out of the bathroom, Cartman walked in. Kyle glared a bit, half expecting some smartass comment, but none came. He noticed the puke stain on Cartman’s shirt. He didn’t feel the same feeling of guilt he felt after vomiting on Kenny. In fact, he felt a strange sense of pride. Cartman had it coming.
Kyle brought his fist to his mouth and burped dryly into it. It wasn’t anything like the previous ones. It was airy and quiet, almost as if it was all his stomach had to offer. Cartman glared harder, folding his arms a bit as he mumbled “Weak tit.”
“Fuck off, Cartman.” Kyle snapped. Even in his sickened state he was sure he could beat the snot out of Cartman. Cartman just rolled his eyes. Stan got in the middle before the fight could escalate. Normally they would’ve let this play out but Kyle was visibly shaking and sweating. He was not physically able to fight back like he usually would.
In the end, Cartman stormed off without another word, pissed that his shirt had even ruined. Kenny wished him a quick recovery, while Stan helped Kyle into his car. Kyle handed over the keys before the car ride faded into silence, aside from an occasional gurgle from Kyle’s middle or a dry burp that tasted and smelled of rotting turkey. . Stan had to pull over three times because of how sick Kyle was getting. He didn’t complain (much) at all though. He simply held Kyle’s hair back and allowed him to get the gross stuff out of his system. Eventually, Kyle got home.
The moment his mom saw him, she freaked out.
“Kyle?! Oh my God!” she hurried over to him. He weakly waved. “Hey, Ma…”
Stan explained everything. Kyle getting sick. The times he had to pull over. All of it. Kyle interjected a few times to add in a few missed details (i.e. the low sugars and how he didn’t think he was actually sick) and in the end, Sheila thanked Stan for bringing her son home safely. When Stan left, she turned to Kyle.
Oh God. Kyle hated that look.
She looked genuinely worried.
Kyle would’ve almost preferred it if she had been angry with him. At least it wouldn’t tug his heartstrings like the look of pure sadness and worry on her face did.
“Kyle, bubbi, why didn’t you call me? Or tell me you weren’t feeling well? I would’ve come to pick you up…”
Kyle wanted to retort back with some snarky comment. He was sixteen! Calling his mom to take him home?! Because he was sick?! He couldn’t deal. But he didn’t wanna tell her that.
“I…don’t know.” he opted. He couldn’t really talk past the sudden lump in his throat.
Sheila must’ve noticed this. She hugged him gently. It was a bit awkward because he was so tall and lanky, but he hugged her back lightly.
“I’m always here for you. You know that, don’t you?” she reached up to push some of his damp-with-sweat bangs out of his face. He looked down at her, seeing the genuine care in her expression. He simply nodded, not being able to speak.
“I don’t care if you’re six, seven, eight, sixteen, twenty five, forty…I’m here for you. You are my son. And I love you more than anything.”
She helped him up the stairs and to his bed. He was too weak to check his own sugars after vomiting up nearly everything in his system, so Sheila did it for him. She was much more careful and soft than he was with himself. He often rushed it just to get it over with. It was such a chore to him. But to her? She seemed to genuinely care about jim’s bf his health. She always did. She tsked a bit. It was low. She went downstairs and grabbed him a juice box. She brought up some south she had made for dinner as well.
“I know you’re sick, sweetheart, but you need to eat. Just get a little something in your system.”
He couldn’t even protest. Even though he had thrown up what felt like seconds ago, his stomach seemed to disagree, giving a small gurgle of hunger. He groaned in response. His stomach was really beginning to piss him off.
He felt a sudden warm hand on his shoulder. His mom had grabbed a chair. She sat beside him. His hands were shaking. A lot. So eating was a bit of a struggle, but she had helped him. He felt her gentle hand rubbing at his stomach as the food slipped down. It helped him digest his food. Ever since he was a baby she would do stuff like that, not so much anymore, but whenever he was sick. By the end, he had eaten as much as he could manage, and felt more tired than anything. His eyelids drooped. Shiela laughed a bit.
“Get some sleep, honey. I’ll check on you tomorrow.”
Kyle couldn’t even muster up the strength to reply. He simply nodded and let his head sink into the plus pillow beneath him. He nodded a bit. As his mom was on her way out, she heard a soft noise. She turned her head.
“Hey, Mom?”
“Yes, sweetie?”
“I love you.”
———————————————
[Edit] rushed ending I know- if you enjoyed this be sure to leave any ideas you may have in your inbox!! I have more coming <33 i’m sorry if it’s not in character, i did try-
please reblog, it would help me loads <3
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1moreoffkeyanthem · 2 months
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So I just dropped the OJV Stan Angst, and uhhhh now it’s Kyle’s turn bc I’m thinking about it.
Sorry Kyle (below the cut in case of ed triggers)
So I started the OrangeJuiceVerse timeline at sophomore year of high school bc as I’ve said, ojverse hinges on healing, and freshman year may have been when Stan and Kyle got together, but that was a veeerrrryyy rough year for him. I vague about his eating disorder in some of the fics, but I’ll never go into detail, however, right now, I wanna talk about the moment mentioned here, when Stan references Ky admitting his issues with control manifesting in the form of eating problems.
So during the summer before the boys start hs, Kyle’s super fuckin stressed. Like his dad made one casual stupid comment about how “high school sets the tone for the rest of your life” and Kyle, who definitely reads way too far into the things people say, ran with that. He never wants to fail, at anything, ever. He put soooo much pressure on himself to succeed. Like they aren’t even in 9th grade yet and he’s spending his summer trying to get ahead and the guys are trying to get him to come hang out but Kyle’s so insistent that he needs to be in all the AP classes and already know everything, and he struggles with science but at this point he wants to be a doctor so that’s another stressor, and he feels like he’s running out of time when he isn’t. And he can’t control the feeling of panic, or (this is in his head btw his parents aren’t totally on his ass abt it) the pressure he feels. He’s so scared of disappointing them and not being their Perfect son, and it’s so irrational bc Sheila and Gerald really aren’t trying to control his life, but Kyle feels out of control. So he turns to the only thing he thinks he has control over.
Eating.
And ojv Kyle is diabetic. He absolutely should NOT be restricting his intake or ignoring what his body needs. Plus, he’s an actively growing teenage boy. But he wants to control something. And Kyle is competitive as fuck. He starts competing with himself to see how little he can eat without anyone noticing. He’s so incredibly smart and absolutely knows what he’s doing is wrong, and the rest of the main 5 know somethings up, because Kyle would usually never hesitate to go join them to throw rocks at boats in the quarry, but he never wants to anymore. He skips Randy’s 4th of July bbq that year not only bc he hates Randy, but because all the food there scares the fuck out of him. Stan may not be the most observant person, but he fucking KNOWS his super best friend. Somethings going on, but Kyle waves him off when he asks.
High school starts. Kyle spends lunch period in the computer lab. Then, a few months later around September or October, after school at off season basketball practice, he is feeling really awful, stumbling over to the bench, but doesn’t make it. He passes the fuck out. Do his teammates call 911? Do they call his mom? No. They call Stan. Stan knows Kyle better than anyone ever could.
Like Stan’s just on the other side of the school with his own extracurricular (recycling club) and he picks up the phone like “hey Tolkien what’s up” “it’s Kyle” and he fucking BOLTS and finds his favorite person being held up by half the basketball team while he blinks at them all barely conscious. That’s when they find out he’s diabetic, and they think it’s just that.
Stan absolutely freaks (but in true Stan Fashion, his mantra is “Kyle first panic later”) and takes him over to the locker room, he still thinks this is a normal low, but he senses it’s more than that. So he swings his backpack to the front to grab the juice he keeps just in case and he’s like “dude you’re always really good about keeping an eye on your levels what’s going on?” And Kyle stares at him for a second, and like everyone’s noticed his clothes getting baggy on him, everyone has seen that he doesn’t eat when the guys order pizza while they’re hanging out. But Stan connects the dots finally. “Oh,dude.”
And Kyle, who is the LAST of the 5 to break down into tears, is crying, and he tells Stan that he’s fucking scared, he didn’t mean for it to get so bad, and he’s ranting about how none of his clothes fit him anymore, he’s begging Stan not to tell Sheila, saying that he doesn’t know how to stop, and Stan is so upset because yeah he knew Ky was stressing himself out but not to THIS point. They leave their after school clubs early with Stan making Kyle promise to eat at dinner and not make an excuse to take a few bites and go work on something, and Stan goes home and Sharon is right there when Stan starts crying as he walks through the door. And he tells his mom everything.
A few days later, Kyle’s knocking at Stan’s door. And he throws his arms around him and just whispers “thank you.” Because turns out Sharon told Sheila and the Broflovskis looked into what their son was dealing with and found him an outpatient program, they took him to the doctor and were horrified that he’s so physically unwell, and he’s gonna be out of in person school for nearly a month, but Kyle DOES want to get better. He’s kicking ass in online classes and the zoom calls with his therapist every day are really helpful to break down the motivation behind the ed, and Stan, because he can’t go a single day without seeing Kyle and not having him in the desk beside him his excruciating, brings him flowers from Sharon’s garden every goddamn day.
One afternoon, Stan goes over and they’re in Kyle’s bed, Kyle is a lot better mentally and physically but Stan’s still hesitant bc he’s still a little fragile, but this is Kyle, the strongest person he knows. And that’s when his simp ass is like “dude, I’m so sorry if this is weird, but I’m fucking in love with you.”
And Kyle’s so shocked, bc these two are both oblivious losers and he didn’t know either, but he’s loved Stan right back, forever. “Holy shit you asshole. It took you this long to say something?” “Wait, you too?” and Kyle pulls him close. “Yeah, me too”
Shdgskaljk they’re just holding each other like that until Sheila comes in bc Kyle has a drs appointment (this is when he gets his dexcom) and she isn’t even phased by those two cuddling smh they’ve done that forever she’s just like “oh stanley you’re still here, anyway. Kyle it’s time to go bubbeh” lmfao and afterwards Kyle’s texting Stan from the doctors office like “dude are you my boyfriend now” and Stan’s giggling kicking his feet smiling texting back like “can I be? Really?” “Yes, dumbass”
I love them so bad
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akesdraws-blog · 1 year
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🎄~°Random Christmas Headcanons°~🎄
Since we are in this wonderful and cold time of the year I wanted to make some headcanons that came to my head.
~Everyone in General~
• Since this is quite a cold time for our turtles they look a bit lazier than usual in the mornings, so they will look for something warm to start the day.
° Leonardo will find a nice hot cup of tea to warm him up (most likely he will bring some to Splinter)
° Miguel Ángel makes enough hot chocolate for everyone, although his chocolate will be filled with whipped cream, chocolate chips and marshmallows (He's a tower of diabetes according to Raph)
° Donatello with such cold weather is the perfect excuse to drink tons of hot coffee (literally at that time of year Donnie's lab would smell quite like coffee)
° Raphael, even though he's a huge bear, won't admit it, he'll have a big cup of the hot chocolate that Mikey made, he'll put a couple of marshmallows on it to see how they melt slowly (he likes the flavor they leave in the chocolate at the end).
• Everyone is allowed to stay up late at this time, Splinter understands that his children need to sleep a little longer.
• Because of their shells they don't have enough clothes to cover themselves, so they each cover themselves with a huge shawl of their respective colors (courtesy of Raph, Splinter has one too).
• April becomes their savior bringing them some groceries and hot pizza.
• Casey goes there often and when April explained to her about what this season is like for the boys she gave them each a few blankets (At that time he was the most loved by the boys, but they will never tell him).
• Heavens let's not forget the Christmas decorations, once it starts playing on the Christmas news channel everyone tries to turn it off or change it, the reason is easy... Mikey goes crazy.
° He is the most excited for wanting to decorate the entire den, which sometimes he sees as a challenge, if you thought that the limit is the floor, because he cannot decorate the floor, you are wrong, I fill the entire floor of the den with cotton to that looks like snow, no one knows how but I manage to make a stuffed snowman, I even beg Raph to make a wooden reindeer, every year they set limits on where he can decorate his brother in orange.
Mikey: Like I can't touch the exercise room?
Raph: I don't want a fucking sphere hitting my face when I lift the weights again
Mikey: The kitchen either?
Donnie: Last time the decorations nearly burned down and caused a fire.
Mikey: Come on bros! Don't limit my spirit!
• After a couple of days the spirit begins to enter each of the turtles.
° Leonardo being surrounded by so many Christmas decorations one day he goes out to look for a tree, everyone hides immediately when his brother decides to look for the tree (no one likes to accompany the leader).
Mikey: Come on bro, just pick one!
Leo: It has to be perfect, it cannot be taken lightly
Raph: We've been watching Leo for half an hour!
Leo: And it will take two hours if they don't stop complaining
Donnie: Technically if we stay out in the cold any longer we could start to go into a state of hibernation.
Mikey: Quick Leo, my butt is freezing!
(Conclusion: Nobody likes to go with Leo to look for the tree)
• The next one will be Donatello, he justifies himself by saying that he looks too "dark", so he is in charge of illuminating the whole den, but he doesn't like lights that have that high-pitched music (he doesn't let him work in peace).
° Donnie's lighting is quite easy on the eyes, he modified some series of lights so that they will light up mainly in Purple, blue, red and orange, although he also gets very excited with them at times.
Leo: Donnie, I really appreciated your work on the ornaments but... Is it really necessary to put lights on my bonsai?
Donnie: They look good, don't they? , Although I thought you had another
Leo: I think Mikey's drum kit would look great with your lights.
Donnie: I knew I was missing something.(Leo should always hide the bonsai babies from his genius brother)
• Lastly, Raphael, although he was actually the first to get into the Christmas spirit but he will never admit it, he makes some knitted garments for his brothers, father and his friends.
° And let me tell you that he has some very interesting ways to get some measurements in case they are necessary.
Raph: *Staring at Mikey*
Mikey: Hey bro, how much do you look at me?
Raph: I was thinking how much space does your brain have in that huge head?
Mikey: MY HEAD IS PERFECT!
Raph: *Proceeds to grab him by the head and shake him* I think I can hear your little brain bouncing *he lets go to go like nothing*
Mikey: Why is the lair moving? *falls dizzy*
Raph: his head grew half a centimeter, a hat will fit him(he begins pestering each of his siblings to get his measurements, though his siblings are only left confused by their brother Red's sudden actions)
• At this time Splinter always reads them a Christmas story, although the favorite is always the story "A Christmas Carol" by Charles Dickens, when they got to know the movies each one had a favorite version
Leo and Donnie- Scrooge's ghosts (Both really enjoy the character designs)
Mikey- A Muppet Christmas (he has a lot of fun watching it)
Raph- A Christmas Carol (prefers the 1984 classic)
•There is always a night of anecdotes, it was not officially inaugurated, it just pops up from one moment to another, everyone gets together one night to be able to talk about funny or memorable anecdotes that have happened on those dates.
April, Casey have the funniest and best anecdotes yet, but they're a little bored by Vern's anecdotes.
💙✨💜✨♥️✨🧡✨💙✨💜✨♥️✨🧡Sorry for any spelling mistakes or if some things are not understood
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regulusmasamune · 8 months
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Fake Service Dogs(?)
I know people fake needing a service dog. I've seen the videos of dogs barking, lunging, getting distracted by everything, etc. I've actually had an encounter similar to that. My dog and I were at a hockey game and a dog being handled by someone very clearly disabled started barking and lunging at mine.
I chalked that up to the dog being in training.
To preface the next part, let me give you some context:
Who is me?
I have general anxiety disorder and depression, with a sprinkling of possible autism. My panic attacks are so bad I just float away or shut down in public, if I can even get myself out of the house. My Service Familiar is named Tarot. She is trained to do deep pressure therapy. She lays, leans, and sits on me to help keep me grounded before the panic attack can get to the point of no return. Or helps me come down from that. Another thing I've trained her to do is 'hugs;' she'll stand on her back legs and put her paws on my chest, or over my arm so I can hold her for a bit. And yes, I did the training, which brings me to the ADA.
Service Dogs According to the ADA
Service dogs are defined in the Americans with Disabilities Act as a dog trained to do at least one task directly related to the handler's disability(ies.). Service dog handlers are allowed to train their own dog. You are not required to have paperwork proving your dog is a service dog, and businesses are not allowed to ask for it. Business owners and employees get two questions: 'is this dog a service dog?' and 'what tasks are they trained to provide?' Service dogs are generally allowed anywhere the public is allowed. 'Generally' because there are places the dog could compromise the environment. Like an operating room, or an open aviary at a zoo. Or the dog or handler's life being in danger is a no go: like a roller coaster. Your dog can probably ride Haunted Mansion, but cannot ride Space Mountain. That's just logic. A service dog can be asked to leave if: they pee or poo where they shouldn't, or if the dog is out of control and the owner isn't trying to address and correct that behavior.
Sidenote: Handler Trained Service Dogs
So let's circle back to training your service animal yourself. Why is this allowed? In a word, cost. A professionally trained dog can cost upwards of $15,000. Health insurance doesn't cover that or the dog's care by the way. I definitely couldn't afford that. I'm not alone with that issue. There are groups who offer financial aid, though most of the ones I've seen are specifically for veterans, and the blind.
With all that mess aside. Let's talk about the meat and bones of this post: discrimination.
Having a service dog doesn't solve all your problems. In fact, handling one comes with its own unique challenges.
For one thing, I'm broadcasting my disability. No one can tell I have anxiety and depression if they look at me. The same can be said for PTSD, diabetes, epilepsy and waaay more. The disabled community faces judgement, discrimination, and criticism from the public. Especially where I live, in the Midwest. Having a disability here is seen as a weakness. Mental illnesses don't exist. And there are quite a few people who decide you're faking since they 'can't see anything wrong with you.' I went to a pastor once to talk about my sister banning Tarot from her wedding. He told me I could 'overcome' needing a service dog by 'pushing myself.' I'm the one who had to change. He completely ignored that I was there to get advice on how to approach my sister in a loving way. Religious places, or organizations who are run by religious people are exempt from the ADA, for the record. He also openly admitted that he owns a building and wouldn't let me rent there with my dog. Yea between that and the homophobia I don't go there anymore.
Housing is also a mess. People can't deny you housing because you have a service dog, but they can find some other 'reason' to keep you out of the building. One of my coworkers is literally in a lawsuit against a landlord for that reason right now.
The world is not made for service dogs (or people with any disabilities, I'm just focusing on one thing.) Bathroom stalls are the worst. My dog is 50ibs of fluff and love. We usually use the handicap stall because she doesn't fit very well in the normal ones. When that option isn't available (and yes that has happened) and she can't fit, she ends up having to be outside the stall completely. I like being able to see my dog and see what people are around her, thanks.
Narrow isles at the store are also fun. Dollar General is the biggest problem I've encountered. Speaking of stores: ice melt. Not safe for pets. Can burn their feet and poison them if they lick it. The amount of times I've carried my dog into a store during winter is ridiculous. Asphalt and concrete aren't much better in the burning department during summer. (I'm going to get Tarot some boots.)
Then there are glass floors, floors that have spikes, or are open grates. Tarot has snapped a nail on an open grate step on our camper. Dog nails have a major blood vessel in them, the quick. And an injury to the nail getting infected is a serious, life threatening problem for a dog. Also means I have to carry her on escalators. Which I did when I went to New York, and I got the funniest look from the guy on the other escalator.
Sometimes people are horrible. Sneers and dirty looks. A former boss (before Tarot) who asked that I don't shoot her when I snap after I told her I was struggling. The people who think they are entitled to ask me questions and pet my dog without my permission. The encounters I've had where people have tried to keep me from having a service dog there. The doctor my mom sees told me the clinic only allowed service dogs for mobility issues. (Had to be a Karen and request their policy. Haven't had an issue since.) The Majestic Theatre tried to say Tarot wasn't allowed in because she wasn't a medical alert dog. (We still got into the theatre to see Phantom, cuz he didn't want to ruin our night.) A 6'7 security guard right when I started public access training completely barring me from the store cuz Tarot spooked at the automatic doors. (We've worked on this extensively, she's completely fine with them now. But it took practice.). Every time I go out, there is potential for a confrontation. Plus getting left out of certain family events cuz I need Tarot.
With all that in mind: it doesn't make any sense to me to fake having a disability so you can have your pet in the store. There is sooo much stigma about disabilities and the people who have them. People who have fake service dogs are inviting that in. They are putting themselves, others and, most importantly, their dogs at risk.
Obviously, this happens. There are bad actors who have out of control dogs. There are also people like me, who are working with their dog. Right when we started public access, Tarot pooped in two stores (one of them she kinda got sick sooo.) Which led me to training her to go on command and making sure she went before we left. That was my mistake. I've corrected it. Tarot is my first service dog, and it's been a learning curve for the both of us.
Does that mean she isn't a service dog? Absolutely not. Self trained dogs and handlers are going to mess up sometimes. Some of these 'fake service dog' videos I see could absolutely fall into this category. The dog and the human are learning. The human is taking steps to help correct the dogs behavior.
Service dogs are essential to so many people with disabilities. Fakers do have a negative impact on us. They make the public more hostile towards us. Unless they have sometimes like Munchausen Syndrome, they are also mocking us. Faking a disability to get 'perks' is a form of discrimination. It's never okay. It makes the law and public turn against us because all they see are the swindlers. Probably why emotional support animals are no longer allowed on airplanes.
So, having a dog in public is not all sunshine and rainbows. I face discrimination, hostile architecture and confrontations whenever I go out. Let me tell you, even with all of those extra issues I have now, having Tarot with me is far better than being alone with my anxiety. She has changed my life in so many good and positive ways.
So. It makes no sense to me why someone would fake having a service dog just to have their pet in the store. Because they are putting themselves in a marginalized group. Also because they lack compassion for themselves, people who actually need service dogs to function, and their dog. We do need to give self trained handlers some slack. Mistakes are going to happen. You have to learn from them. Life is rough for a service dog handler. Don't make it harder by pretending you're one of us.
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ukrfeminism · 2 years
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As many as one in five women develop a mental illness during pregnancy, or in the first year after having a baby – and while it is rare for someone with postpartum psychosis to harm their child, suicide is a leading cause of maternal deaths in the UK within a year after childbirth. 
Yet, despite this, pregnant women and new mothers have no access to specialist community perinatal mental health services in almost half of the UK.
The problem has been exacerbated by the pandemic, with referrals to specialist perinatal mental health services at an all time high.
However, shows that as many as 70% of women hide or underplay their perinatal mental health problems, which likely means that the true figures for women suffering with their perinatal or maternal mental health are much higher.
In fact, a survey found that 40% of women are worried about any mental health issues being recorded in their medical records, preventing women from getting the help they need and deserve.
As we mark Maternal Mental Health Awareness Week and its theme, ‘The Power of Connection’, a group of mums whose businesses focus on maternal wellbeing candidly share their own struggles in a bid to break down the stigma that is still attached to these issues. 
Maddy Alexander-Grout, 38, lives in Southampton 
Around eight weeks after giving birth to my son, I knew something was seriously wrong.
I was having visions of throwing him down stairs, and of me walking in front of buses. I remember being in his room one night, visualising myself smothering him with a pillow.
I would later be diagnosed with postpartum psychosis. 
I’d had an awful pregnancy and a traumatic birth; everything that you could imagine went wrong. I had gestational diabetes, one of my ribs popped out, I had Obstetric cholestasis – a condition that means your liver doesn’t function properly and your skin is excruciatingly itchy as a result. For a large part of my pregnancy, I felt like I had insects crawling all over me. It was horrific. 
I gave birth to my first child in2015. The labour was extremely difficult and I ended up spending another week in hospital after he was born. 
I was scared and didn’t know what was happening. I just remember feeling so, so tired. My son and I then went to a birthing centre for three days before going home. Here, things went from bad to worse. 
My baby screamed constantly. 
And I was struggling badly – I didn’t bond with him; all he did was cry from the second he was born. 
In those first few weeks, I didn’t have control over my actions at all. I felt constantly angry or vacant. Sometimes I also felt alone and scared, and I didn’t want to talk to anyone about my experience for fear of being judged.
I didn’t want to admit to anyone that I didn’t want to be around anymore – and I didn’t want my son to be around either. I had always wanted to be a mum, so why did I feel so awful?
After having several disturbing visions of harming my baby and myself, I phoned my mum and said, ‘Something is really wrong with me. I’m thinking about killing my child.’
I was petrified. Before I had a baby I thought I was the most maternal person in the world, but now I had one, I wanted to kill him. 
I went to Mum’s house, where she looked after the baby – and I slept solidly for four days. If I hadn’t had this intervention, I think that something truly terrible could have happened to me, and the baby. 
With the support of my mum, I went private to see a psychologist who diagnosed me with postpartum psychosis. She gave me hypnotherapy and counselling, and it really helped. I started to feel more like me again. 
After a few months, my therapist suggested I went to a baby group. My first thought was, ‘no way, I will get judged.’ But I gave it a go and it was the biggest lifeline I could have asked for. 
I have ADHD and I am an oversharer which was why I was so anxious, as I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep it in. And I was right, I just blurted it out one day. It made everyone cry, and then they all hugged me and told me I wasn’t alone. 
The mums didn’t judge, they supported and I realised the more I spoke about the experience I had the better I felt. I found my tribe. 
Spotify Embed: Maternal Mental Health Awareness Week
View on Spotify.
When I had my second daughter, I went on to have complications and ended up with birth trauma and post natal depression. Luckily, this time, I was able to see the signs. I knew what I was looking for – and how to get help.
There’s still a huge stigma round this topic, though. Mums feel like if they are open about how they feel, they will get their babies taken away from them, which is awful. 
Having been through it, I’m doing everything I can to stop this and get people to talk more and have set up Parenthood App to help other parents to feel less alone. 
I know all too well how talking about how you feel really helps, especially with experts on hand to give advice.
And there is nothing like being told you are not alone by parents who are going through the same things as you.
Emma Jarvis, 31, lives Liverpool. 
After going home with my first baby, Charlie, I soon started to imagine the worst case scenarios in every situation. 
For example, I’d be walking down the stairs and imagine the baby had fallen. Or I’d be making a cup of tea and I’d imagine dropping the kettle of hot water on him. 
It wasn’t that I wanted to do any of these things, it was that I was hyper aware that these things could happen.
I’d had a traumatic birth with Charlie, which ended in an emergency c-section, blood transfusion. I was also put under anaesthetic, which meant I didn’t witness my baby being born and missed the first five hours of his life. 
It meant I missed out on those newborn bliss moments; like seeing him get weighed or giving him a cuddle. In fact, I have no memories of the birth at all.
After he was born, we weren’t able to go home for two weeks due to Charlie being treated for infection. During that time, the doctors were in and out of my room constantly, taking him away for tests, and giving him medication. It wasn’t until we got to go home that he was fully mine. 
I become consumed with worry about the first two weeks of his life being so miserable, and how the lack of contact would impact him. He had gone from being so close to me for nine months, to being constantly poked and prodded by strangers. At one point he had to have a lumber puncture, which was horrifically painful for him, and it was traumatising to hear his screams. I felt like I’d failed.
Once we got home, my partner had to return to work so I was left to recover from major surgery, with a new baby to look after. I was still anemic from the blood transfusion and on a lot of medication. 
Almost straight away, I started having horrendous nightmares – about being in hospital and being operated on. I’d wake up and feel paralysed in the middle of the night. 
Any time I was asked questions about my birth, I felt anxious – as I had no memories of it. 
I remember at one medical appointment being asked my baby’s date of birth and having to figure it out. The receptionist said to me, ‘you don’t even know the day your baby was born?’, as if that made me a terrible mum. 
The weeks of trauma I went through weren’t enough; I was now being judged for not knowing basic things about my own child.
Looking around at other people, it seemed that other mums were up and about after a few days, I couldn’t even imagine walking to the shops after two weeks, it took me such a long time to recover. 
Nobody ever asked me if I was having scary thoughts, and nobody told me this was common, or normal, so I continued to suffer in silence, too embarrassed to tell anyone how I was feeling. I now know that over half of new mums have these thoughts. 
Once Charlie started to get a bit bigger and be able to show signs of happiness – such as smiling or laughing – I began to feel better, and the frightening thoughts started to lessen. I was able to take this as reassurance that he was happy, and he wasn’t traumatised by his birth. 
I felt very alone throughout my pregnancy and birth, and then during my maternity leave. So much so, I quit my job to start my own business to make sure other mums don’t feel alone, like I did. 
Now, I’m helping new and expectant parents with a workplace wellbeing programme and a free online 1-2-1 midwife support service. And this Maternal Mental Health Week, we’re asking people to take the time to ask a mum how they are really feeling.
Louise Daniel, 37, Leeds. 
I had postnatal depression after having my first baby, in December 2013.
After a quick labour, everyone told me how lucky I was – but I didn’t feel it. I felt as though I had been through a trauma; strapped to the bed when I needed to move, told that if I didn’t push him out now, they would use forceps on me, refused pain relief because I was doing ‘so well’ without it. 
I didn’t feel in control or listened to, and I experienced a huge amount of pain. 
When I first got home from hospital, physically, I remember feeling like I’d been hit by a bus. Mentally, I just felt nothing. 
It was as though I was living someone else’s life and I wasn’t really sure what I was supposed to be doing. I didn’t feel depressed straight away, but it developed within a few weeks of me giving birth. 
Practically, I was doing everything I needed to to care for my son, but at that point, I didn’t feel as though I loved him, and that made me feel sad as I knew I should. I felt very low and like I didn’t know who I was. 
I had mastitis [an inflammation of breast tissue common with breastfeeding] for this first time when my son was around three or four weeks old. I then had it twice more over the next three months. 
Every time I fed him I cried. I curled my toes and gritted my teeth but persevered despite the pain, because I felt like I should be breastfeeding. I wanted to what I perceived as being ‘the right thing’.
Midwife after midwife told me to keep going, and that I was ‘doing great’. But I didn’t feel great. I felt nothing. Nothing for my son, nothing for myself, or for anything else. 
Seeing how I was feeling, my husband suggested I spoke to a doctor when my son was around two months old. I was then prescribed medication and referred to the most wonderful counsellor, who helped me to start to feel better. 
Although I was making progress within a few months, it took until my son was a year old before I felt like myself again.
Eight years later, in July 2021, I had my second child, and it was a very different birth. I had a wonderful midwife who listened to what I wanted and helped me to have a much more positive experience. 
For the first six months, I felt well. But it didn’t last – the nothingness and anxiety started to creep in shortly after. I began to feel like a robot, doing all the practical things I needed to do, feeding my children, bathing them, even hugging them and apparently loving them. 
But underneath it all, once again, I felt nothing. No happiness when I knew I should be feeling it, no sadness, no excitement – just nothing. 
I have since been diagnosed with PND again and I’m undergoing treatment at the moment, in the form of counselling and medication. 
Covid and running my online shopping business has made things even more difficult this time around – although I’ve been honest with my team about how I’ve felt, which has encouraged them to open up about their mental health too. We’re a group of all women and we encourage flexible working and act as a support for one another. 
When I have opened up to mums – in and out of work – about what I’ve been through, most share their own experience of mental health problems. They didn’t share them at the time because they felt ashamed, embarrassed or as though they shouldn’t talk about it. 
I’m not sure why people don’t feel able to be open and honest, but I know it needs to change. 
Mental health is such an important thing to talk about, and being able to do so openly and honestly is a must for everyone, but especially new mums. 
We need to ask questions and listen to women more.’
For support and advice on maternal mental health
Action on Postpartum Psychosis is the national charity for postpartum psychosis advice and help. 
PANDAS also offers perinatal mental health support. 
You can contact The Samaritans here
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josiebelladonna · 2 years
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since i decided “why not” and figured out that being a fat girl is part of my destiny exactly six years ago (and then went ahead and embarked on it almost two years ago), there are definitely pros and cons.
the cons:
you are quite literally hungry all the time, especially if you’re like me and you gained by eating more and more. every couple of hours to 90 minutes, like clockwork, i swear to god, i feel my stomach rumbling at me. i often caught hell as a kid for “being hungry all the time” but it’s the real thing now. i last ate at 2: it’s sounding like a wild animal right now at 5.
the stigma of being chubby or fat. kind of obvious, but it’s the truth. i knew right away when i made my first post about it that it was going to raise some eyebrows, as if i just admitted to dog fighting (”how COULD you?! gain weight on purpose?”). but there’s this general assumption that if you’re fat, something went horribly wrong and now your health is automatically in jeopardy because of it (the flipside is if you lose weight, you’re automatically healthy and you get congrats from everyone and their dog), which i never understood first-hand because i always felt better whenever i put on a few pounds in the past - plus, there’s actually no conclusive link between obesity and the diseases it’s often associated with because thin people get them just as easy. sure, there are plenty of people who’ve gotten heart disease or diabetes and they were heavy, and when they lost the weight, the disease went away so it’s easy to put two and two together there, but just because it happened to them doesn’t mean it’ll happen to me, too. (i got heavy because i have a naturally heavy frame and i started eating more and more all around) there’s also this weird assumption that fat people are dumb, too. not at all true: i knew what i was getting myself into when i looked at 200 pounds back in 2020 and said “fuck it, i’m doing it��. i know my body more than you or anyone else, i’m not dumb for wanting to be fat. blanket statements are deadly, especially when it comes to humanity because we’re all so complex and different from one another.
i notice the little bounce in my growing belly, the double under my chin, the stretch marks, the little “extra” on my shoulders, the cellulite on the backs of my thighs, the floor creaking under my full weight, all of it. and it’s always there. (read: you become really aware of your body, speaking as someone who became really aware of her body during the first year of covid)
i get winded more easily. it’s harder to do things like cross my legs when i’m sitting down or lay flat on my back and look down at my toes.
i’ve been using the bathroom a little bit more? my digestion’s been screwy since i was about 10 so i barely notice this one but it’s something i’ve picked up on lately. not much more, like one or two extra times.
don’t know about fat men, but when a woman is fat, she’s deemed unattractive and undesirable and it winds up killing her confidence, which just feels so wrong to me. i’ve often felt that some people, male or female or enby, just look way better with weight, too, so of course this kills me a bit.
i genuinely feel like i’m turning into a potbellied pig some days. between my messy habits and my looking at boys, i feel like an absolute pig of a woman and i’m getting the belly to back it up.
the pros:
there’s actually a silver lining to being hungry all the time, and it’s this: you get to eat more, especially if you’re like me and you just love to eat and you have since you were little. if something is delicious, i want more of it. since i’m bigger and heavier now, i’m wanting three or four more helpings of something now. you should be thanking me.
another (sort of?) silver lining is even though i got this big by eating more frequently (and i actually don’t eat a lot of junk food, either, just a lot of rich food), i’ve never been more enticed by food that’s genuinely fattening like funnel cake, chicken and waffles, or the most beautiful food in the world, donuts. before i gained all this weight, i was turned off by funnel cake and deep-fried oreos (i was always curious by all of that but i often decided not to try it because i was so self-conscious back then): my mom and i are going to try to go to the ventura county fair next week and i’m definitely going to eat a big one of those. i can’t remember the last time i loved milkshakes this much. i see donuts now and i go feral inside.
you become really aware of your body and because of that, you start exploring it more and more (always healthy and good).
i get winded more easily but i also breathe more deeply, though, like i was standing out on the porch just now as the wind was blowing and i took in the deepest breath i ever took in my life. it felt good! (and just because i get winded more easily doesn’t mean i’m lazy, either)
i haven’t been able to cross my legs since i was like 10 so no complaints there.
and when i lay flat on my back and look down and see this huge round dome of a belly in the place of my toes, i get very aroused, like it’s genuinely erotic for me. (i remember being like 12 or 13 and laying on my back and looking down at my toes and distinctly saying out loud, “i wish i never had to see my toes as i’m laying on my back ever again.” they were starting to disappear behind my belly when i was at 150 pounds, so there)
i’d rather use the bathroom more than not use it all.
it’s a lifelong dream come true for me? as a little girl, i would pretend to be fat. as a slightly older girl, i wanted to show off my belly and it’s always the first thing i look at when i look in the mirror (it’s the first thing i see when i look at alex, too). as a pre-teen, i would sneak in treats when no one was looking. as an anorexic teenage girl wanting to hang herself, i wanted to let go of control and eat whatever i wanted without judgments. i really feel like this is something i should’ve done years ago, like when i was 18 because i lived alone then, because i love it that much.
over the years, i always feel good whenever i gained some weight. yes, even as someone tormented by anorexia: the voice of pleasure was often crammed way in the back of my mind, but i would hear her. i never liked it when i lost weight because i always felt like i was doing it for someone else.
earlier, after i posted a new chapter of dead man walking and i had a big lunch (and i mean, big: a big bowl of veggie pho, a bowl of pretzels, a few meatballs, and a big ham and cheese sandwich), i lay down flat on my back and my belly rose so high up right before my eyes. every night when i go to bed, i roll over onto my back and lay my head flat on the mattress and let her rise like a loaf of bread, and i run my hand along the curve and it feels so hot. it literally makes me wonder why everyone’s so self-conscious (where fat women want to cover up everything, i want to show off skin all the time because i have more of it now). because of this...
I LITERALLY CANNOT STOP LOOKING AT MY BODY AND TAKING PIX OF IT. i literally can’t. i also can’t stop touching my own body, either. (one thing about my body that mesmerizes me to of great extent is my belly button of all things: when i let my belly rise up while i’m down on my back, there’s something so hypnotic about the way it rises up the highest, like it gives me the sexiest feeling).
with sexy feelings comes sexy thoughts. i’m experiencing fantasies and wanting to do things that i never even thought i would ever experience before in my life (like tying up my hands behind my back and eating six donuts or a whole pie. i’ve actually eaten a whole pie solo before and most donuts i’ve eaten is four so just imagine the swoons that swept over me at that).
i also can’t stop picturing myself as bigger and heavier. i’m at 260 now: i wonder how i would pull off 270 pounds, followed by 280, and then 300 and beyond. i keep wondering how heavy i would have to be for my belly to extend out so far that it forces my legs apart. i keep picturing my body fuller and heavier as my stomach grows more and more. i keep wondering just how much heavier i can possibly get, too: where do i stop? 300 pounds? 350? 375? 385? i’m on the fence about astrology but my chart says i’m supposed to get really fat when i hit 30 years old: i’m 29 and i’m already ahead of the game on this one, so of course i’m curious.
like, there really is some truth to the phrase “fat and happy”: i feel myself getting happier and more like myself as i get fatter.
like i said last night, it’s devious and rebellious and rock n’ roll. you shock people and it’s genuinely a lot of fun, too.
and potbellied pigs are adorable, and i feel sexy with a potbelly, too.
i’m properly porky now. even with the cons, i couldn’t ask for anything else, tbh. other than more pounds, but that’s a given, though.
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stephatersie · 3 months
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I've been daydreaming lots. Travelling with my parents has led to my time with myself to be greatly reduced.
Talking to myself, even in a low, soft and hoarse voice has proven to me to have its benefits in the long run. It helps me with control, energy, concentration and even sleep. I know last night, on the 21st-22nd, I slept little by choice.
It's not that I was not tired or wanted to sleep, but I have been longing for some time with myself, away from my parents. It's one of the things I am looking forward to in regards to living in a dorm by myself.
I have complete and utter control of my life. How much and what I eat, my sleep and daily schedule, my way of life, where and how long I workout for.
Of course, the downside to that is that if things go wrong - my grades go down, my weight goes out of control - I have only myself to blame - which can lead to many things.
I worry too much about being a good person. Which also leads to things. Is it selfish to admit I am being nice hoping to be treated, in turn, with kindness?
All of my childhood stories emphasized on kindness out of one's heart, and were always rewarded, and those who didn't were met with misfortune. Of course, this makes sense. If you are liked and you are a genuinely good person who respects people, their person, their privacy, you'll automatically be protected. It's a simbiotic thing, I've noticed. An analogy would be to have a dog want to protect the human that feeds them and takes care of them. If the human dies, the dog will no longer be looked after, and life becomes infinitely harder. If the dog dies, the human suffers a life companian, and will enter a deep grief, which also makes life infinitely harder. It's a win-win. One could argue that their motives are selfish, others would say that despite that being the starting point of the relationship, love eventually blooms.
But what is love? True love. This word is thrown around a lot. Ever since out of the womb, but what is it truly? Does it even exist? Do we control it? Does it control us? If we all dedicate ourselves to a relationship in hopes for something in return - whatever it might be, however, the most often wish is companionship, as social creatures as ourselves fear loneliness more than death itself - can it even be called "true"?
If love represents the simbiotic relationship described previously, true love is only possible if it is one-sided, right? But humans would argue that is an incredibly unhealthy way to view love, right?
When I think of true love - two situations come to mind : parental love, and the love offered by whatever Lord you worship.
Though parental love is tricky. I have come across, and heard of too many parents mistreating their children. Why do they do that? Out of love? What does that say about our perception of love? Neglect? If they would have truly loved their children, this would not be an issue.
So is offering love in our nature or nurture?
I have once read somewhere that the first signs of civilization was a healed femur, because it showed how us humans have abandoned the "Only the strong shall survive" mentality and have started prioritizing each other as a community. Is that what love is? How did we get to that?
This is where the room gets divided into two. On my left, I see those who would put me in a headlock, convincing me with their diabetic chants that we are God's creations and that we are but statues of His made out of Earth. And on my right, pulling on the hypothetical tabel that had spawned in my vicinity for the sake of this entertaining monologue, a sea of words as long as the Ecuator itself, and telling me very respectfully that if I do not understand their data and statistics, I am but a simpleton whose universe and horizons are too small.
That was a joke, people. Which also reveals a glance at my perspective on religion. I am intrigued by its meaning and origins, yet disgusted by its preachers' practices.
If God and His Son loves us unconditionally, and all sins shall be forgiven, why does Hell exist? What's the limit? If there's a limit, can it even be called "unconditional love"?
(Back to the division and my take on it. I believe both parties. I believe that we descent from monkey-like mammals, and that God has played a massive role in our evolution, meticulously picking which aspects shall be modified and how.)
My question is the following : Who wrote the bible?
Because whoever did can be credited with manipulating generations of humans.
And it's sad, is it not? How we are looking for love and we are doing so much to get it. Religion is proof of that. When someone controls your life, your being, it's a huge loss on your part. And yet you do it "for the love of God". I would even argue that many people don't even feel much of a connection with God. Simply they want to apease their community, their family, their beloveds. They want to apease themselves?
Fear is such a powerful emotion. Everyone - everything - feels it. It's what has kept us alive.
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teriyakiandginger · 5 months
Text
[TIME: 2:16 AM]
Teri yawned, blinking his eyes open to the unfamiliar buzz of his phone ringing. The
foreign noise had him confused for a moment, before seeing the name on his phone screen and answering with less hesitation than he would like to admit.
"Hel-"
"HELLO!"
He flinched at the loud shout from the other side of the phone, blinking and clearing his throat as he brought the phone to his ear again.
"Jesus, you're loud."
"WOOOOO!"
He smiled.
"What's up? How's the party?"
"Good! Really good! -m drunk!"
"I can tell."
He yawned, sitting up in bed.
"Sorry, did I wake you up?"
"No, not at all."
He lied. Why did he lie? It's not like she'll remember in the morning. Yet, he couldn't stop his mouth from moving.
"I'm up finishing my essay."
"Y'need to sleep early!"
He scoffed.
"I don't sleep. Sleep is for the weak."
He can hear her fumbling around and giggling a little with her phone, before slurring: "Didya know, sleep depridation long term increases y'risk of getting diabetes?"
"Sleep deprivation." He thought. "depridation isn't even a word."
"I did not. Where did you learn that?"
He laughed a little at having to talk to her like a child. He did appreciate the effort she was making though.
"My friend told me earlier. Say hi!"
"Hi!"
He rolled his eyes, muttering a half hearted 'Hello'. He recognised that voice, and already wanted to march over there and-
No. Shut up. Everything is fine.
He hears some mumbles, and some laughs, and the opening of a door. He chews on his lip, trying to make out what she is saying.
"Alright, I'm going outside so I can talk to Teri. Be right back!"
He scoffs almost triumphantly at the fact that she's leaving this party she was so excited about, only to talk to him. He wonders how many people are there, who is there, what she's doing right now. what she's wearing right now.
He hears a thud and a groan from the other side of the phone.
"Ah, fuck."
Although a little worried, he had to stop himself from laughing.
"You alright? Did you just fall over?"
"Yeaaa..."
"Be careful."
"Okay, I'm good now."
He sighed.
"Sorry. I know I'm interrupting your work.
But I just wanted to call and talk to you."
Teri stared at his phone as if it was the only thing in the room with him.
"Okay. Hi."
"Hi."
A short silence filled the air, broken by Ginger's voice once again. He couldn't tell if she hated the silence or was just eager to tell him something. Either way, her voice was welcomed.
"This is important to me, by the way, l'm not just calling to annoy you. Even though I like to annoy you."
"Oh, I know. Okay. What's up, then?"
His nose twitched into a sort of anticipatory grimace.
"Teriyaki."
He froze like a child in trouble at the use of his full name. He didn't think she'd ever used that before, ever since they first met. It filled his stomach with some kind of twisted dread he hadn't felt in a long time.
"...Ginger."
"You are my best friend." She said, not slurring or unsure. She said it with complete certainty.
He felt comfortable with those words. The kind of comfortable you feel when you fall into a routine, and get used to doing the same thing every day.
"I am also good friends with our other friends. But you are my best friend. I'm...close to you. Maybe Miso too. But you, I like you a lot."
Comfortable. His expression contorted at realising he had to admit that he felt the same.
"...Likewise."
Silence again.
"Also, my phone mayyy or may not die mid call, so if I hang up without sayin' goodbye, I'm not bein' rude on purpose."
He couldn't help but feel like she's gone back to being more carefree and less earnest. Did he say something wrong?
"Noted."
More silence. He tapped his knuckles at the silence. Why can't she just say something? Anything to break this silence. Anything but having him stew in these thoughts. Anything-
"You know that night a few weeks ago?
When we...?"
Anything but that.
Why that?? Teri's face heated up quicker than he managed to get a word out. Pathetic, acting like such a teenager. It's not out of the ordinary for people to do...that. Why can't he even think about it?? This is ridiculous. Why is she bringing this up?? He thought to himself.
"Y-yeah. That was fun."
"It was fun. I really liked it. And I'm glad it was with you."
Teri buried his head in his hands, wishing she would stop.
"Something about consistently kissin' with you is... I dunno! I'm gettin' used to how your face feels. An' I like it that way. I like your warm hands."
He could vomit. He could practically see her stupid fucking smile.
"That's good. I think."
"Why 'you think'?"
He cursed himself that he even said anything. He just acted out of embarrassment.
"Because I don't know if it's risky."
"No, I know. I know what you're going to say."
It's not that Teri didn't like it. Or her. Very much the opposite. He just... wasn't used to feeling yet. Feeling anything. For her, for himself... all of this new emotion was alien to him. He wouldn't ever admit it, but it scared him a little. It's why he pushed everyone away from him. It was more like a habit than a conscious effort he made.
"I'm only letting us do this as long as it isn't emotionally complicated."
"Well, don't worry. I'm okay. It's not."
"Alright, good."
More silence. Fuck this shitty fucking silence. It was so grating.
"I'm just worried. I somehow feel like this is a morally shitty use of our friendship."
His mouth moved before he could think. It's almost like he was the drunk one here.
Ginger hummed in thought. "You know, I actually think it's good that we're doing this between friends."
"Why?"
Suddenly, he wasn't okay with being comfortable with her anymore. The mundanity of the same routine has grown tiresome. Teri found himself wanting more. More of her.
"Intimacy feels right when it's with someone I trust, even if it's platonic. And for me... it's not emotionally complicated. I've always had love for you, regardless of it being platonic or romantic or whaddever. You mean a lot to me."
He could hear her smiling.
"I like how your face looks, and I like what we're doing. There's nothing complicated about how I feel. You're my best friend. I love you."
His heartbeat was in his ears. It was a mixture of frustration and relief, and was the root of that twisted dreadful feeling. He wished more than anything that he could understand what she meant by all of this, but he couldn't.
"This sounds like it's reaching my definition of 'emotionally complicated'."
She sighed. "Okay. Let's forget about that definition for a second. How are you feeling?"
He hated this question. How the fuck was he supposed to know how he was feeling? The frustration was taking over his thoughts a little.
"It's not that I have nothing to say. I just don't know whether I'm saying it properly."
"Take your time."
He took a breath to calm down.
"I'm worried about hurting one of us. You're talking like you've caught feelings, and I'm just... this is all a lot."
She coughed. "I'm not catching feelings. And if I was, it wouldn't be a problem. We're friends. That's all that matters."
"That's not all that matters."
"You sound like you don't like this."
"No, no, it's not that."
She huffed, sounding frustrated. "Then what are you so afraid of? I can take care of myself."
"I just care! God, I just... care. About you."
Silence. But it wasn't uncomfortable this time.
"I understand what you said, but friends are supposed to care about each other. I would resent myself if this hurt you. And I'd rather set that boundary than let it get any worse."
"Okay. I understand."
She feels distant. He thinks.
"I'm just trying to be sure that this is right, and I have no idea whether it is. Maybe I worry too much about us, but I don't want either of us to fuck this up."
"Yeah, I know. But we won't, though."
As he was talking, Teri heard a few people shouting for Ginger in the background.
"And I'm sorry if this is coming out all wrong; it's just hard to say that I-
[CALL ENDED]
-love you too."
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catysharksstuff · 6 months
Text
BODY
This week's essay is about the Body. My body. Our bodies. W e all have one after all. And relationships with our bodies have got to be among the most challenging, complex, difficult of all relationships. Or, maybe that's just me?
This is where I am at with my body. I have never, in my life, felt "ok" with it. At least, not since I was a very small child. And I don't really remember life before. like, I don't remember a time where my body and I were ever "together". On the same side. On the same team. My memory has always been of an adversarial relationship. Chronic "not okayness". Me versus it; and anger, anger, despair.
I think awareness of my body as a thing-as a separate entity - something "other than me"-probably began around the age of eight or nine. But by eleven or twelve it was fully fury raging. I was diagnosed with type one diabetes in the middle of my twelfth year and at that point the divorce between"it" and "me" was well and truly complete.
My body was my enemy. My body was the reason I was not ok, not normal, unlovable. Not only did it not look right, it also didn't function properly. And it had become a specimen , something that revealed how inadequate I was, how broken, how malformed. My body: something to be critiqued, monitored, scrutinized, weighed, poked, prodded. An entity that was always "wrong',' always "not what it should be". Too big, too fat, too scared, too marked by flows - acne, lesions, bleeding...
This relationship was - is!- so tucked up. This poor inadequate container. This thing that broke, but still existed. Still "was". Still "tried" . However inadequately. This body still survived and me - inside it - the passenger on the broken train could do no better for it -non abuse it with food and booze and hate fueled running, slapping, smoking, smothering.
It makes me weep for all the trauma, hatred, and violence I have wrought upon this sweet, tired thing. This poor little conglomeration of tissue and muscle, skin and bone. All it has ever tried to do it contain me, give me a vehicle through which to experience this life, this world. My body has tried so hard to just be, to give me what I need, to carry me through my days. And in return I have been as abusive as any tyrannical asshole you could meet.
Boy howdy this a screed.
I think the base line is this: at this age - 46- I feel like I should have figured this out.
But I have not figured this out.
It is better than it used to be. I have more awareness now than I used to- I understand the harm of societal expectation. I know that growing up in the supermodel 90s and amongst"heroin chic" , and Kate Moss' waif ideal was less than awesome for a young woman. For any woman. Not that it got better. Thank fuck I didn't also have to contend with the internet and the ascendance of online porn.
And you know I also get that being diagnosed with an extreme metabolic condition -one requiring constant vigilance in diet, exercise, sleep, and medication - at the onset of puberty- in a new school, in a new county-was perhaps the most perfect storm of personal misfortune and tragedy. But I also admit that, despite an intervening thirty-four years, I have not found a pretty resolution to all the feelings; these intense, extreme emotions , that I still have.
I know I am not my body. And I also know that it is the one thing that is guaranteed to be with me through my existence in this life. I know this is the most important, most intimate relationship I will ever have. I know this is the foremost reason I am unhappy in my life. And I know that fact is little.... small ... petty. I'm unhappy because of a relationship in which I on the abuser. A relationship that is entirely within my power and ability to take better care. To do the right thing.
And yet.... and yet...
And yet, I do not.
Ah me, this is a big one.
I make these attempts. I clean up my act. I exercise, go to the gym, do yoga and hikes and High! Intensity! Interval! Training! I get eight hours of sleep. I monitor blood glucose. I eat vegan. I eat Paleo. I give up caffeine, lactose, glucose, gluten. I eat whole grains. I do not eat whole grains. Soy. No soy. Legumes. No legumes. I avoid beer, I avoid wine. I quit alcohol in totality. I do therapy. I consult an eating disorder psychiatrist.
Nothing. Works.
Nothing works.
You know what this is? This is my thing. This is the thing that chains me to humanness. This is the piece that keeps me from true liberty and transcendence. This harsh, stupid relationship - my prosaic, unkind, ungenerous attitude-towards the greatest gift that I have ever been given... This is why I fail.
It's gotta be different. I gotta get real. There is a way- I know there is a way- that may not be perfect, may not be ideal (but by whose metric? whose arbitration?) - but that is balanced, is reasonable, is kind.
That is not so big an ask. But it is also everything. I gotta find it. Have to.
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ducknotinarow · 9 months
Note
[2012 RaphDon]
Now that things had settled, and Don's illness was being taken care of, there was only one last thing for him to take care of - Raphael. He knew that Raph took care of him, cared of him, but, there was a lingering pain and anger in the air. Don knew it, thanks to the fact Raph refused to be around him. He understood why, and it was deserved.
Still hurt though.
Heading to Raphael's room, he stood in their doorway for a moment, soon knocking his knuckles on the frame of the door,
"Raph?" He questions, "Can I talk to you about something?"
Donatello enters before Raph even really gives an answer. Taking a seat at the end of his bed, Don takes a deep breath, before just, speaking, forcing himself to do what he always struggles to do,
"I'm sorry," He starts, "I'm sorry I didn't come to you about Casey, ever - I just, I didn't want you to potentially do something dumb and hurt yourself, because, I saw how happy you were with him and I didn't want to take anything wrong you."
He had explained it once, but, he felt he needed to do it again now that he was better,
"But that doesn't mean I shouldn't have ever said anything to you about it, you're my brother and I trust you, but I made it seem like I didn't, and I'm sorry Raphael."
It wasn't an apology though that was needed...okay, well, it was, but there was something else,
"I need you to say it though Raph," Don speaks in riddles, "I need you to just...tell me how you felt about it. Get angry, get upset, we'll go to the dojo and fight it out if you need to...but I don't want us to keep avoiding each other," Don admits, "Because I miss having you around Raph, I miss having my twin."
| Muse Interaction
Raphael would say at best it's been maybe a few weeks the longest since he really kind of was around Donnie. Sure he sat in the kitchen for meals, he lounged around in the pit, and even took part in training sessions that Leo held not just the Splinter ones. Not minding if he and Don were paired off but there was something to note that made a difference. If it was just Don in the kitchen Raph waited till someone else entered or kept what he needed to do brief. He wouldn't lounge in the pit for the same reasons. Though more rare since Don often wasn't there alone less they were all going to gather to watch TV together. He avoid sitting anywhere near Don. The worst? The training sessions. When it came to fighting Raph took it seriously sometimes. Mostly against Leo if they spared with Donnie? Well it was near border bullying at best how Raphael teased and played around with his twin. That wasn't there. No snarky remarks on Don being a nerd, not playing into banter. Maybe a slight peek to make sure Don was fine what with the discovery on him being diabetic now, of course he wanted to make sure they were fine. Didn't want to see Donnie like that again.
But he also seemed like he just didn't want to see Donnie. Which wasn't true but it was getting easy to tell Raph was avoiding his twin and that is pretty rough to do when lived in the same place. Sometimes Raphael found the lair to be too cramp but he sure was finding all kinds of space now. But it seemed Donnie picked up on what Raph was doing. Of course they did though, Raph may hate to admit it but Don was pretty smart he guesses. Fine he knew his brother was a genius but still sometimes that genius still couldn't take a hint. Raphael was letting his eyes fix to the art of his comic book. Aware Don was standing in the door way of his room. Near about cornered in here like this. He could maybe just leave, brush right past them lie say he had somewhere to be. Hell didn't have to lie he could just leave with out a word.
Green eyes peered over the top of his comic looking to Donnie, just to make sure, recalling the last time they came to him he was deathly ill. Raphael's upset and sure he can be short sighted he admits. But he knew Don did that because he felt like he could go to Raph. But they seemed fine so couldn't be that letting his eyes fall back to the page, being all to aware of Don's eyes on him was making it hard to just sit and read. Rereading the same speech bubble over and over again letting his brow furrow when Don's knuckles finally rap against the door frame. Softly hitting it enough to bring attention but there seems to be something more in the action Raph just flips the page to seel the act he was reading.
"Raph?"
It goes unanswered but since when has any of his brothers cared for the silent treatment.
"Can I talk to you about something?"
Seemed they weren't waiting an answer more should have worded it as I need to talk to you about something. As Don soon made his way in and sat at the foot of the bed. Raph simply rolled his eyes and slouched down. Kness rise up so he could rest the comic against legs. Slightly hiding himself away from Donnie a dumb attempt at doubling down on the whole 'i'm ignoring you' shtick Raphael had been one for the on going days.
"I'm sorry,"
Raph dose seemed to tune his attention more towards Don in the moment. Sorry for what now?
"I'm sorry I didn't come to you about Casey, ever - I just, I didn't want you to potentially do something dumb and hurt yourself, because, I saw how happy you were with him and I didn't want to take anything wrong you."
Oh this again, why bring this up it's over it's in the past there nothing to fret over. Raphael is more trying to convince himself of course, seeing how not once has a word left his beak to voice it to his twin. Doesn't understand why hes explain it all again. Don told him when he beat the shit out of them that same day. The memory made the guilt near about curdle in his gut when he thought about it. He get's it though Don had a thing for Casey but kept it to himself. Because of Raph. It's old news why bring it all back up things were fine.
Thought the turtle whose hold on his comic increased making pages crease under his finger tips.
"But that doesn't mean I shouldn't have ever said anything to you about it, you're my brother and I trust you, but I made it seem like I didn't, and I'm sorry Raphael."
Raph can't help the scoff that comes out from him at that point. Slightly cursing himself for paying attention towards Donnie. He was meant to be ignoring them. Not that he had the second he could tell they were in the door way. It's hard to ignore someone that you just so connected with. But try as he might to shut them out he could just 'tell' something was working through Don's mind. Nit like he could read his thoughts of course. Thank fuck for that on Raphael's end at least. But it was a odd sensation sometimes.
"I need you to say it though Raph,"
what? Raph head pops up a bit finally looking, really looking at Don just then no following what they were getting at. He needs to say it? say what? Sorry? oh the hell he was saying sorry to Don! Look making for beating on him sure since he was sick and all but nothing else! Donnie was the one in the wrong he decided in this moment he made this mess! he can clean it up. Falling back down to turn to pretend reading his comic in that moment.
"I need you to just...tell me how you felt about it. Get angry, get upset, we'll go to the dojo and fight it out if you need to...but I don't want us to keep avoiding each other,"
Oh.
Okay he jump the gun a bit here but still, guess he picked up on what Raph was doing as well. That was really Raph's dumbest thought here of course Donnie would notice what he was doing here. Don just seemed able to better tell that stuff.
"Because I miss having you around Raph, I miss having my twin."
"I miss mine too" Raph mumbles under his breath in turn. Unsure if Don even hears him, A heavy sign follows before he finally givens in and set his comic book down off to the side moving to sit up, legs crossing over his tiger print bed sheets as he keeps his gaze low for a time. Don true to his intentions seemed to just be waiting. Raph working to gather his thoughts a moment here here before speaking up.
"I'm not mad about ya 'iking case or did whatever dont matter. Case gets to decide who he 'ikes an' for some reason 'hats me." Raph starts with, the jealous was an issue at the start but Casey's made it so clear who he picks and it's always Raphael and he takes comfort in that. Even if someone else shows an interest hes not just going to dump Raph. "neva was about 'hat anyway." He's trying to stick to just words, even if its hard sometimes for him but least Donnie was letting him have a chance to speak. Finally he lifts his head to look at Don really look at them, not through or past looking straight at those mahogany eyes of his twin brother.
"Ya always seemed on my side sure we fight, I fight wit' everyone. But ya least 'ike care or whatever. We both give Leo the same hard time when he's in the wrong, ya sided with me at the start an' "He pauses trying to figure out what he is even trying to get at here.
"You hurt me. Thats how i felt" He finally says it because that's what it was, "Look maybe I would have done somethin' stupid I dunno. I dunno what I would of done, ya can' know what I woulda done either and I hate that people all assume shit 'bout me." Maybe he would have but he's not sure either he really loves Casey after all maybe he would never give them up. Raph positive, nothing could make him give Casey up. Not even his brother. Besides, Raphael was a tad possessive when it came to Casey, so he really felt he wouldn't.
"I felt hurt when I found out yeah, maybe scared at a chance of losing out on what I got I dunno, but it felt like I been whack by ya fuckin' bo staff to the back of my head to have some no face tell me somethign my twin should!" He snaps finally letting anger flare out before it faded away "but you didn't. Because you thought you couldn' right? and that hurts Don." Raphael states before looking away again.
"I trust ya, I know if I ask you'll have an answer and I know that's dumb ya can' always have my answers even if ya gonna make me feel dumb for askin' I'll still ask anyway." Because of that relaence on Don to just know "I know I could talk to you 'bout stuff. Anything an' everythin' an' ya maybe have answers for me on those things...but I'm not ready for those answers." Another sigh works out of him with that admission.
"But despite how i feel that way. you couldn' tell me about this? I was hurt and I jus'...wanted to hurt you back." He knows that makes him awful " least Leo willin' to tell me things, yeah we fight but he don' hide things from me. He don' avoid the hard talks wit' me. Sure expects me to lash out but least he talks Don." Some scolding in there now "I got more respect for someone who will be honest to my face and feel they can be honest to me even if it might not be somethin' I'm gonna wanna hear or handle well. But if ya can' do 'hat then maybe ya jus' don' need me either." Explaing his own avoidance now.
"And that hurts me more than anything else that's gone on."
Raph could maybe leave be done with this and leave Don to thibk on it more. But he suddenly moves uncrossing his legs as he moves to crawl and sit behind Don rest back against thier shell like they used to. Raphs attempt at trying here. He sometimes did it with Leo but it was more comfortable with Donnie. The groves of their shells seemed to lock in place so easily and well. Tipping back his head as he can feel the back of Donnies brush against his own. Sometimes he hated how tall Don was but that was mkre because he hates how short he was in comparison. It honestly felt kind of nice.
"And seeing you after ya got sick an' I didn' have a fuckin' clue? Because I was jus' that mad at you? I couldn' tell I had no idea! Ya could have-" He let's that thought trail off. "I jus' don' think ya need me around Don it might be better that way..." Despite his words he clearly dosen't like the thought because of what he's doing now. "Cause I shoulda known Don. I should been there for you. You needed me and...I wasn' doin' what I set out to." Nothing but guilt and remorse in his voice.
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God why do I feel so damn guilty!?!?!
I hate to say the honeymoon is over and they boys are going to be replaced with my current flavor I am craving for now in favorite fandom characters. My most resent fandom, Hetalia, is going onto the back burner. Which means the Nordic 5 is getting replaced. 
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Yes, but not trashed. I never trash my favorite passed characters I like. But I am bored with them. But their would be replacements.... well... 
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Well these are the cast of crazies trying to replace the Nordic 5. Yeah. And this isn’t even half of the male characters I like.
It is weird, there is a tiny part of me that feels like a damn slut/tramp for having so many favorites. Like I should have a cell with all their damn numbers on speed dial or a roll-a-dex or the classic little black book that men were allegedly use to have in the old days with numbers of various girls with some sort of leveling or grading system on how hot the girl was or what not. All of them at my beck and call when I need them. And in a sense they are at my beck and call. They are in my mind for my imagination to go on adventures or a quickly one night stand if need be. 
There are times where I wonder if all these fandoms I am into where in one unified universe and fantasy me was involved in all their lives in one form or another. What would they think of me? If I was them I would think of me as a whore. And the fights that would happen. WW3 would pale to the fight these guys would have with each other. And you would admit it to, your own cluster of favorite characters that you imagine doing the do with would fight with each other for you. 
But that is just me. Maybe I am giving these characters to much autonomy in my mind if I feel some strange sort of guilt of being a slut/whore for using these guys. Hell I do feel some guilt for dumping the Nordic 5 out on their preverbal asses.
This is how I am imagining things. So amuse me here with this little drabble. 
The Nordic 5 is outside my door, in my yard all confused on what is happening and what they did wrong. Finland is teary eyed and wondering what he could of done to prevent me from dumping him. Sweden is just standing there, poker faced and deep inside he is devastated. Iceland is confused and is talking to Hong Kong on his cell bitching and yelling in frustration for what I did to him and the other Nordics. Denmark is crying and pleading as he makes a racket outside for the neighbors to see, while clawing and banging at the door for me to let him in. Norway is quiet, staying calm but he is hurt, pissed and wanting a fight. But not with me, but with the guys who replaced them. Clearly not admitting he is jealous. Meanwhile I am inside, posting that I dumped the Nordic 5 and need support as my favorite guys from various fandoms find out through various social networking sights and dump whatever they are doing to go to my house and be the first one to me hoping they are going to be the lucky guy to have me as a girlfriend or something like that.
Silly idea, I know, but I find it funny. And for those who have a problem with this, well that is your problem. Anywho I am going through one of those fandom ruts where my fandoms change and I get a vacation from the fandom that had been my current fandom. Which was Hetalia. 
Honestly though I am not leaving the fandom, per se. Just putting it on the back burner for now as I try reworking the kinks (not sexual or romantic kinks, just life stuff) as I am going through a healthy lifestyle change. Doing exercises and eating healthier foods. The last doctor appointment had my blood sugar on the edge of being diabetic. So yeah. And I am not getting any younger.
So one of the things I had to stop doing was roll playing. It was causing me to get into a rut and depressed. Which caused me to oversleep. I wasn’t doing exercises and I wasn’t listening to music like I use to and I kept doing the same things on a daily bases that it was causing me to get more emotionally and mentally sick as well as physical. So I started making healthier meals, doing exercises that focuses on the parts of my body that need it like my ass, my triceps and my breasts. I noticed when I listen to music I am more awake and have more focused and feel happier. And usually when I go through a major shift like this in my life my fandom tastes change too.
As for what fandoms I have no damn clue.
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heartfucksmouth · 11 months
Text
I know gestational diabetes is "not my fault" and I didn't do anything "wrong" to get it, but I have to admit, every time I take my insulin at night and my fasting glucose is still too high the next morning, I feel like a broken fucked up failure. and now I have to take it before meals - which I keep forgetting bc it's so much to remember between checking my blood sugars an hour after *my first bite* of every meal and being exhausted from this damn rash...
I'm feeling depressed again that I can't get it under control and know what dose will help me. by the time I find out, I'll be going into the labor. it feels ridiculous. and I'm so worried it going uncontrolled for this long will cause issues for when Aidan is born. it feels bad.
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cumulohimbus · 11 months
Text
Well, my plans to try to get buff this summer are already looking grim. I walked around slightly more than usual today and when I got home from work I was back at the point of "feels like I'm about to shit out my spine" again. *sigh*
Asked my doctor about meds that could help me lose weight because I can't exercise anymore without heightened discomfort and loooong recovery periods. Waiting now to hear if my insurance will approve it (not likely because I'm only on the cusp of prediabetes and not fully diabetic yet, ahah...) otherwise the med can cost somewhere in the hundreds to over a thousand a month. -.-'
Even exercises I was given in physical therapy for my back can be problematic. Things that rely on putting weight on my wrists can be painful due to past wrist injuries, lack of flexibility, and my current weight. Things that involve raising and lowering my legs (particularly my right leg which is the side my arthropathy is worse on) cause a jarring and uncomfortable clicking in my lower back/hip. Cardio is almost impossible due to both my spine and asthma.
Sure, I'll admit it. There's still a part of my brain screaming at me to get thin because I think I'll be more attractive that way and I desperately want to be loved. But I know that voice is wrong and illogical. Thinness isn't what makes someone pretty, and it doesn't work well with my body type anyways; I'm not built for it. I'm a squat little tank designed for putting on muscle and surviving harsh winters. Twinkdom is unachievable for me despite being something I have always wanted.
More than anything though, I just don't want to lose any more of my autonomy. My weight compounds my spinal issues which in turn limits my mobility, and therein makes it much harder to exercise (as well as do other activities that I enjoy). Physical therapy will just boot me out once I reach the point of lessened pain again, and I can't afford a personal trainer.
Any advice is appreciated. I know swimming would be awesome (as well as something I love doing), but a pool is unfortunately inaccessible to me at this time. I could look into nearby lakes and see how safe they are this summer though. That said, I am particularly interested in hearing ideas on how to make exercise mentally stimulating enough that I am willing to experience more physical pain in order to actually do it. Currently it's not entertaining enough for me to hurt myself staying active lol
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@ccartman
write a fictional story were eric cartman is scolded by Beatrice horseman for being fat which really pisses cartman off
Eric Cartman was walking down the street, munching on a bag of cheesy poofs, when he suddenly heard a voice calling out to him. He turned around and saw Beatrice Horseman, the famous actress and socialite, approaching him with a disapproving look on her face.
"Eric Cartman, what on earth are you doing?" Beatrice exclaimed. "You're eating junk food and getting fatter every day! Don't you know how unhealthy that is?"
Eric was taken aback by the sudden scolding. He had always been used to getting away with his unhealthy habits, and he wasn't used to being called out on them.
"I don't see what's wrong with a little snack," Eric said defensively. "Besides, I like being fat. It's my body, and I'll do what I want with it."
Beatrice shook her head in disbelief. "You don't understand, Eric. Being overweight can lead to all sorts of health problems, like diabetes, heart disease, and high blood pressure. And it's not just about your health - it's also about how you present yourself to the world. You're a smart kid, but if you keep eating like this, people will judge you and treat you differently."
Eric felt his blood boiling. Who was this uppity actress to tell him what to do with his body? He was a free man, dammit, and he would eat whatever he wanted.
"You know what, Beatrice? Screw you!" Eric spat. "I don't care what you or anyone else thinks of me. I like my life the way it is, and I'm not going to change it just to please you."
Beatrice looked at him with a mix of pity and frustration. "I'm not trying to tell you what to do, Eric. I'm just concerned about your health and well-being. But if you don't want to listen to me, that's fine. Just remember that your actions have consequences, and someday you might regret the choices you're making now."
Eric turned on his heel and stormed away, his mind filled with anger and resentment. He couldn't believe that someone had dared to challenge his authority over his own body. But deep down, he knew that Beatrice was right - he was living a dangerous and unhealthy lifestyle, and he needed to make a change if he wanted to avoid the consequences.
As the days passed, Eric found himself thinking more and more about Beatrice's words. He knew that he couldn't keep living the way he had been, and he began to make small changes to his diet and exercise routine. It wasn't easy, and he still struggled with temptation and self-discipline, but he was determined to prove Beatrice wrong and show that he was in control of his own life.
In the end, Eric Cartman realized that he didn't need to prove anything to anyone - not even Beatrice Horseman. He was his own person, with his own flaws and weaknesses, and he was capable of making his own choices. But he also realized that sometimes, it took someone else's perspective to make him see the truth. And for that, he was grateful to Beatrice, even if he would never admit it to her face.
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