#sometimes you really just need some fuckin carbs

[echthr0s]

essentially I think, as a chronically unhappy person, that there's an art in learning to accept a certain level of unhappiness in one's life

and I'm aware that that probably sounds like a red-flag statement because of how polarised everything has gotten. there's a general intolerance to any sort of dissatisfaction or unhappiness, despite the fact that these are indelible aspects of being a sapient entity capable of comprehending its own existence. we have to fight it! we have to manifest everything we want so we are never dissatisfied again! (because there's no way we won't just find new things to be dissatisfied about! pffff as if!) if someone makes us unhappy we just have to jettison them out of our lives post-haste! if it isn't good enough, throw it away!

and I mention polarisation in regards to this specifically because it erases any grey area of just... being unhappy sometimes. of just feeling bored and restless and maybe you'll shave half your hair off and dye the rest of it pink. sometimes your partner will say something and you'll be like "oh my god you don't understand me AT ALL" and consider packing a bag and leaving the state. it's just a thing that happens. it doesn't mean that you should actually shave your head and leave your partner and move to the Pacific Northwest (where, of course, everyone would understand you perfectly and the weather will always be the way you like it). you at some point learn to discern 'Boy Howdy Am I A Grumpy Gills Today' from 'Actually, This Is Legitimately Bad For Me And I Should Change It' or else you're constantly upending your life and ghosting your friends and buying things and throwing things away all in the vain pursuit of Never Feeling Bad Ever Again About Anything.

pouting, kvetching, having a sulk, reblogging emo images to your tumblr, journalling about how awful everything is and no one understands and also you're really hungry but that's probably unrelated to your feelings at present, these are important skills! learning how to be unhappy is foundational. that's how you stop taking out your unhappiness on everyone else. yeah, that storm cloud is raining on you and you alone. big deal, happens to all of us. pop an umbrella (and go eat something, for christ sake)

#singularity.txt #unhappiness is a spectrum all its own #and a significant amount of the time it's not even related to what you think it's related to #sometimes you really just need some fuckin carbs #we are not always experts on our emotions even if we're convinced we are #and our thoughts are not always true. actually most of the time they're just noise

[possession1981]

actually so i think most of u know i grew up fat right like i was fat by the time i was like 4/5 and it was remarked upon all the time by adults and my parents were trying to diet me+my sister our entire childhoods until i acquired an ed when i was 15 and lost a ton of weight in 3 months and since then it's only been my sister getting that shit from everyone in the family. but anyway, when i was like 10 and my sister was like 8? i think around that time, my mom was told by my uncle who'd always been fat (even after a gastric bypass) that she should look into LCHF (which, fun fact, is a term I guess he coined?) for me and my sister because he had been working with this alternative doctor out of a town 2-ish hours away from where we lived and he was like an expert on this new amazing method for weightloss which is actually the Healthiest Way To Live and Eat. so my mom drove me and my sister all the fuckin way there for a meeting in which this doctor basically just told my mom oh they need to eat max 50g carbs a day and just SO MUCH FAT. and my mom just swallowed that shit whole like she restructured our entire diet and forced my sister and i to eat like a pack of bacon + scrambled eggs cooked in bacon grease every single morning and we were absolutely not allowed potatoes, pasta, bread or rice. she tried to get us to have spoonfuls of butter as a snack. she tried to get us to drink heavy cream instead of milk. and neither of us lost weight despite going through all of that, which my sister didn't mind it was food to her taste but it made me so fucking sick and miserable i didn't know what to fucking do, and then she just got even stricter with it and that shit went on for like 3 years until she finally gave up. and the entire time she was making my dad different meals including carbs n shit because he absolutely would not change the way he ate just because his kids were fat so i had to watch my dad eat potatoes with his dinner wishing i could have one because cheese-baked cauliflower gets really nauseating when you eat it nearly every fucking day and sometimes you really want a fucking carb with your meat and cream-based sauce. anyway that's why i hate low carb diets i know they work for some people but they press my fucking buttons intensely.

#p

[muffindaddystyles]

𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐒.

Tw// eating disorder.

I was thinking of how I skip meals and stuff while studying, but still people could comment on how a certain way my body has gotten. So,,,yeah. Just wanted to write a blurb on that.

Eating meals thrice a day's fun thing, kiddos.

Harry's busy with album, well you with uni to the point you've no spare time to take care of yourself. You just wakes up giving a haste kiss to him, rush to university because you were studying all last night in the guest room not to disturb him knowing how half of limps he comes back from the studio. When you're back at home he's at the studio again and you straight away flops into your sheets without eating anything, then you again get up from your nap have a bit of snack and the routine goes on for irritatingly exhausting loop.

Else when Harry's not too busy in work he checks upon you while your nose's in books, he brings you snacks. green apples. your favourite chocolates. cack-buns. whatever he could steal from refrigerator. He clings to you until you don't end up taking a break pouting adorably, "what'd ye' do without me hu? starve yourself." So you always end up giving in.

When he becomes your tutor for the mean time and it all has one ending; that's him quenching out many orgasms from you while you thrash in his lap, him fuckin' you raw because he has missed your warmth too passion, him teasing you not letting you focus on what you're studying. That's the worst one from all of the above because when he does that he doesn't stop and it drives you insane.

When sometimes you're too stubborn he grabs you by ankles making you squeal in amusement and throws you on his shoulder to drag you to the nearest diner and swear you look like panda wearing his tattered t-shirt and pyjamas.

He doesn't let you sit in another room and study alone, whining that he couldn't sleep without you in his arms and he used to sleep on you listening to the buzz of whatever you were reading, cheek smashed against your tummy arms coiled around your waist.

That indeed caused you weakened eyesight from focusing under the night lamp. But, you loved it how he always tried to make you stick to him now he couldn't you miss him and his care.

Dinners long forgotten. In breakfast you eat cereal in the same bowl Harry did moments ago before leaving you have time for nothing, and in lunch you fill your system with cold coffees.

Now. You were free after your exams hanging out with your classfellows for few hours before going home and seep into your sheets for two damn days.

"Looks like you gained weight, during this semester." One of your classmates told you with a weird pull of her brows and you chuckled nervously not knowing what to say, the plastic cup of cold mocha in your hand getting sweaty.

"Pfft. She looks fine. This one was hectic for all of us. Y/n you look great." There's a huge lie under it because you look sodden and emotionally traumatised, you know it people don't need to butter things up for you.

You excused yourself from the hangout. You looked at delcious mocha with watering mouth and yearning gaze but you gave it to the homeless little girl in your way considered how many carbs it contains.

You rambled to yourself. Muttering under your breath what you'd have said to her. 'Maybe beacuse I'm happy and when you're happy your heart makes more blood. Maybe I'm hanging out with my friends more often eating to my fullest and maybe I enjoy having late night snacks with my boyfriend.'

But you were doing none of that so you couldn't have said that to her.

When you stepped inside your home it was smelling appetizing, again watering your mouth and making your stomach growl loudly.

When you padded inside Harry was making pasta for you in the kitchen singing a melody to himself most probably of his album. He's glowing from hanging out with his friends, writing songs, and singing them whole day at studio but you're not you feel miserable.

At some point you had thought of dropping out and end this shit for real but looking forward to Harry. How he faces every hardship and never gives up, you did not too. You're always gonna idolise him.

Harry notices your presence and he wide spreads his arms for you to just cuddle into him. Wooden spatula in his hand and he grins brightly at you, "c'mere puppy. made pasta fo' m'girl." You didn't felt like eating it. Not because you're not hungry. You're fucking starving but your stomach has gotten accustomed to be empty all the time that it's feeling like a mission to fill it.

"M'not hungry. Had lunch already." You muttered lying to him walking past him to your shared room and his brows rocketed to his forehead surprised that you didn't fled in his arms as you usually do, not even a peck on his cheek, not an appreciation that you'd eat it after your nap.

You're a bit cranky, stressed and all over the place. You don't want to take it all out in him because you know you'd say mean things just as "I missed you so much, but all you cared was to enjoy yourself with your friends and make songs with them." . "Duh. Only if I could be a singer who doesn't needs to do anything." Or "you didn't once checked upon me." Because you know that would be your nonsensical words but it would really hurt him.

Not changing into comfortable clothes you dived into your sheets sleeping on your stomach. Harry felt alone and sad even though you guys aren't being that close for months despite of some quick sex in shower and when you or him badly needs a release.

He didn't even touched his home made pasta putting it in container and storing it into fridge. His ears perked up at your moans, only realizing that those were moans of pain. You were groaning in your sleep from the headache and cold sweat breaking all over you, you're feeling nauseous even in your sleep too.

Harry was by your side resting his hand atop your shoulder and he found you bathed into sweat, pulling his bottom lip he frowned running his thumb in circles at the nape of your neck.

It's so unlike of you. To not change and brush your hair before going to bed. He turned you around, "shh. sh. baby 's me Harry." He whispered when you whimpered snuggling your face to his folded thigh and tucking your hands in between your own thighs like a sandwich.

He stroked your blazed flushed cheeks with the back of his index finger. Taking in the slightest of features that looks worn out, he really missed you and he kinda feels bad that he got so engulfed into everything that he forgot to check if you're okay.

He pecked your lips removing duvet from over you changing your clothes only leaving you in your panties and your favourite rolling stone shirt of his's. He massaged your soles and ankles a timid smile creeping at his lips at the memory how he used to give you head and back massages. He missed being by your side too.

It was past midnight and you were still into deep sleep. Concerned Harry gently tapped your shoulders kissing your forehead, "bubba. wake up darlin' you haven't eaten anything." Only if Harry knew how it has become a routine.

You woke up with little yawns and cute rubs of eyes making your Harry giggle and shower you in his loud wet kisses. The storm had yet to come. When your eyes fell over your clothes anxiety ignited in all of your body and you pushed him not even glimpesing at the awfully hurt eyes he got after that.

You quickly covered yourself with duvet with wide eyes stuttering, "why did you changed my clothes." You don't want him to look at you when you're so out of shape and not feeling physically appreciative in yourself even though you're exactly how you were before.

This's what happens when someone puts the seed of insecurities inside you.

Harry did what he has been doing the whole day, frowned in confusion he doesn't want to think you're done with him and doesn't loves him anymore but it's flickering through his mind.

"M'sorry, jus' thought that I always used to change you. You wouldn't mind." At this you strewned your lip inside not to cry at your situation how do you tell him what you're feeling?

He fumbled with his rings. Shaking your head you stood up but a train of dizziness making you knock your knees with the beds foot and Harry was on his feet wrapping you in his arms.

"You need to eat. m'not takin' any excuses. When was the last time you ate?" He was furious at you. He doesn't care if you push him this time too. He loves you too much to let you ruin your health like this. When even you forgot that what was the last time you ate a proper meal He shook his head in exasperation.

The door to ensuite bathroom was open wide as he sat a tray of pasta and two plates infront of you, his head craned in your direction as you examined yourself in the bright lit mirror.

Pinching your slightest pouch then turning a little to have a proper look of yourself. Harry didn't said anything he just observed you joining the dots clearing his throat, "come to me, pet." He made space for you and you tried to give him a smile that came out wavering.

Eating in silence. After, so much time it feels like eating a proper meal's a blessing but you couldn't eat much giving it to Harry and he took it from you kissing your head.

"Sorry." You mumbled and he stood taking the trays with himself raising his finger in air gesturing you to wait.

He waddled back not thinking twice and taking you in his arms, burying his nose into your hair as you did into his sweater cuddling closer to him.

"I know you're not feelin' good. Bad days happens with all of us." His lips lingered over your hair and he's missing the usual smell of your shampoo. He smoothed down your arms and it's the proper cuddle you're sharing after so long.

"Whateva' goin' with you tell me whenev' you're ready." His finger tucks under your chin thumb circling over your softest skin.

You just wanted to let it all out but decided against it thinking you're gonna get back to normal and everything would be okay.

Sensing your hesitation just from the beats of your heart he reminded you looking you straight in your eyes, "remember. I'm gonna love you forever and always. Whateva' it takes for m'body to."

You nodded giving a chaste kiss to his lips and both of your eyes fluttered at that warmth, his fingers dipping into your hips.

Next day you were way better. Hanging out with Harry's bestest friend at café near your home, Harry has his arm slinged around your shoulder keeping you close to him as he talked joyously.

"What would you like to eat bunny? Brownie?" He asked you knowing how much you love brownies. If anyone wants to have their way to your heart it's always brownies and chocolates.

When you first started dating Harry, he knew how much you loved chocolates so he would bring a box of different chocolates with one tulip everytime he used to visit you. He used to fed those delights to you (with a kiss in return of each) so much that you had a sugar crash once which isn't your proudest moment.

You shook your head at which his friend quips, "ooooh dieting miss?" Then that same damn insecurity came back rushing to you and when you looked down then to her asking her innocently Harry's heart broke into millions pieces, realization dawning on him with a jab.

"Do you think I need to diet?" She shakes her head vigorously trying to make you understand that her intention wasn't to make you feel bad, "hey no. you're perfectly healthy I was just teasing you." You nod at her with a little "oh." and after that Harry felt you zoning out away from him emotionally.

At home on your bed while Harry rummaged through drawers for your favourite sushi socks you pondered over everything quietly, it's frustrating him. Your silence's killing him. He wants his bubbly bunny back who used to hop in excitement, who used to crack boomer jokes with him, who used to eat brownies and chocolates like it's her last sweetness.

"Bunny..." He gave a squeeze to your ankle after slipping your feet into warm socks, "talk t' me yeah? 'S killin' me." You sapped your teeth into your lower lip.

"It's been hard Harry. Very very hard." He cradles your jaw and you continued, "my head used to ache so bad while studying, eyes used to sting and I stopped eating anything...." Tears bearing at your eyeline and Harry scoots closer to you. He feels awful.

".....n' and you weren't there. I missed you so much you know...wanted to sleep in your arms after a long day...." You were full on sobbing now and Harry's own lip wobbled he can't see you crying especially when he's the reason.

"M' s' sorry baby. Such a dickhead I'm." He wipes your tears with his hands lost inside you hair and thumbs stroking the apples of your cheeks.

"Then again people had to throw it on my face that I've gained extra fats—" Harry grunted at this nose flaring, "who the fuck told ya—oh my god." His eyes enlarging and he felt so fucking remorseful that this's what you were insecure of from days.

"Listen to me y/n. You're exactly like how you were baby. Except more beautiful. Don't let any man, any woman to tell you that you're not. Don't let 'em hurt ye' bunny." He pulled you in his lap kissing your cheeks as you cried into his shoulder and he let you because you need it.

"Never hide your body from me bubba. You know that I worship it with my whole heart." He murmured and now you're full on crying with breath hitching, hiccuping like an innocent baby.

"M' an' awful person." He protested knuckles feathering your jaw, "no you're not."

"Yes I'm. You love me so much and–and I wanted to say mean hurtful things to you." You huffed at him when he smiled musingly, "because I was the one never giving my all lovin" to you how you deserve in the very first place. No' made sure you were eatin' properly or not, you know how worried I got findin' you practically drenched with sweat in bed that day? It was because of your low blood pressure."

He squeezes you in his arms, sponging light kisses at the side of your neck while you closed your eyes and he slipped his hand under your shirt tickling you hooking his thumb in your belly button.

"I'll love your soul in every body." His affectionate words soon turned into cheeky ones, "anddd yeh' know how much I like pregnant women."

You giggled at him smacking his shoulder but he captured it interlacing your fingers kissing the gap of your each knuckle.

That night. You guys made dinner together eating it with a big smile and gratefully for Harry you licked your plate clean.

"Sweets?" You asked him with a lowered gaze and a tilt of your head. He tapped his lips teasingly straddling you over his thigh and a moan fused into warm air when your lips slotted into perfect missing puzzles.

He admired. Sipped. Adored every inch of you tasting your mouth while his fingers kissed the dip of your waist and thighs.

"Hmm. Close your eyes open your mouth." He pecked your lips placing his thumb over your tongue and you obeyed closing your eyes shut.

Soon his thumb was replaced with dark sweetness and you instantly got on what he has done, immediately opening your eyes chewing the chocolate. Tangerine bursting on your tongue as the chocolate cracked open.

"Such a cute little mouth chews just like a bunny." He moans against your lips swiping at the hint of chocolate on your lower lip and you mumbled an appreciative 'thank you.' to him which was soon captured by his own mouth in the form of passionate kiss.

.

P.s: I freakin' love chocolates and this whole situation I wrote it on me because I know I've alot of people struggling through the same difficulty the thing's we've to be our own Harry.

#harry styles #cute harry #harry styles blurb #harry smut #fluff #dom harry #harry styles smut #harry angst #hsh #harrystyles smut #harry #angst with a happy ending #harry x reader #eating disoder things

[theonewiththefanfics]

Because Hearts Get Broken - I Know That You’re Scared (Part 2/3)

Continuation of ‘Because Hearts Get Broken’ - see my masterlist for it :)

Synopsis: She’s trying to move on. He’s still hoping for a chance

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: angsty, bruh, but with a sprinkle of fluff and a hopeful (??) ending

Warnings: swearing, emotionally distant mindset... can’t think of anything else, really. 

Word count: 3656

Heartbreak isn’t loud. Y/N doesn’t even know if it had a sound what it would be like. Like glass shattering against the ground? Or maybe like a book being ripped and shredded apart, memories of time spent together ruined. Or maybe it'd like the crackle of a fire, as it slowly but surely crept up and turned everything into charred remains before it became nothing but ash and was carried away by the winds.

        No one in her family talked about feelings. If they did all they received back was ‘suck it up. That’s life’. After that, it was time to move on. So, when she got together with probably the most open-hearted person in the world, it was almost laughable.

        Y/N had always been the friend others went for advice, relationship or not, but she herself never asked for one, simply because she didn’t wanna bother anyone. Not that she thought the others were bothers. It’s just having grown up in a household where emotions were basically suppressed, opening up was quite impossible. 

       Then came Harry. Perfect, impossible, loving, sweet, kind, ridiculously open Harry. God, she just wanted to punch him because no one should be that nice. 

        January 2nd, 2020 he’d called her up, having gotten Y/N’s number from Sarah (after ages of pleading, because as much as Sarah sometimes couldn’t handle drunk Y/N, she’d defend and protect her until the very last breath), and they set up a coffee date.

        Slowly but surely, they spent more and more time together and seeing as her job had her based in LA for a while, visiting Harry was no problem. Then the pandemic hit, and on March 18th the whole stay-at-home order was issued in California. 

        Y/N was in a panic. She was meant to leave LA in ten days, and the hotel her company was paying for had been paid until the 28th. With all flights getting rapidly cancelled, she was scrambling to get one, but even her firm was unable to get her a seat. That’s when Harry had called up, his tone a worried, urgent mess as to if Y/N was alright and what her plans were.

        Of course, him being him, he immediately offered her a place to stay.

        “We don’t even need to stay in the same room, there’s like five other guest rooms you can take up,” he tried to joke, and ease her tension.

        “Fuck, Harry, just rub it in how rich you are.” Y/N cackled, and when she heard him laugh in the background, her heart did that stupid fluttery thing she’d grown so used to. 

        It took a little persuasion from Harry’s side, and reassurance at least seven more times, that Y/N wouldn’t be intruding on his space, and he was more than happy to spend the quarantine with someone else, instead of being alone, and that in no way her taking over a room or two would limit him and his own artistic endeavours. So, apprehensively Y/N packed her suitcases, grabbed an uber, wearing a mask the whole time, and drove to Harry’s place.  

When Y/N saw the gated community and the palace he was living in, the inside of her cheek was practically bitten in half. They’d barely been together for three months, and now she was basically moving in with him, but given how it was either live with Harry in a fucking mansion or walk across the country to New York, she took the first option. 

        As much as Harry loved on her, pretty much shagging her brains out every possible second, and loving on her until her cheeks hurt from smiling, the anxiety about the whole situation never left.

Harry was worried about his mom and sister, Y/N was scared of what was happening in New York. So, when the state boarders opened, immediately, although reluctantly, she flew back to her apartment and her dying plants, but never forgetting to FaceTime with Harry. But they couldn't stay away long from one another.

        Which is why they decided, given how she was able to work from home now, and Harry could do so as well, they’d fly over to one another every two weeks, quarantine together for the next two weeks, and then fly to the other place. Her boss actually loved the idea that Y/N was so willing to go back and forth between the two cities, so all her flights were written off as business expenses, not to mention when she said she wouldn’t need a hotel, he was more than thrilled to let her be in LA whenever she wanted, as long as her work got done.

        It seemed funny to her now, that before Y/N couldn’t wait to get back to the sunny state of Cali. Now when she had to fly over (which was just a couple of times since the breakup), going through JFK security made her sweat, and landing was a vomit-inducing action. And the last time she’d gotten back to the home-base state, she’d actually thrown up, Harry’s last words ringing in her ears.

        It’d been three weeks since Sarah’s New Year party, and three weeks since she’d spoken to him although he still kept calling. Every morning she’d wake up to a couple of notifications of missed calls, and each time she’d listen to the messages; it was all the same – I miss your voice. And every time she’d listen to it, her thoughts were exactly the same. You could say it was almost pathetic as to how many times she’d listened to his albums, just to hear him sing. Almost like he used to do right before she fell asleep.

        But Y/N had no one else but herself to blame for it. She’d been the one to call it quits, she’d been the one who walked out of his apartment, and the one who decided she wouldn’t fight. 

        Now, she was sat by her small magazine table, documents spread out in front of her as if a tornado had rolled through, while an apple and cinnamon candle spread its delicious scent through the air. 

        Y/N would only admit it once because, well, the proof was all over the apartment, but she was very lazy when it came to taking away the Christmas décor. It made her feel warm and comfy. And it reminded her of Harry. How when she’d woken up after their first date, already in the new year, he still had colourful fairy lights strung across the curtain rods, giving everything a soft, cosy glow. 

        He’d also been the one who convinced her that a real Christmas tree was so much better than a plastic one. 

        “Yes, it’s a hassle,” he’d said through slurred words as they’d slinked away from the partying crowd after the countdown was done, and each of them had taken three shots of vodka. “But it’s so worth it. Smells like a fucking forest in your room. Like proper Christmas!”

        And although she’d spent this holiday season alone, Harry had been right. Just like he’d been right about Y/N.

        She tapped her pen against the glass surface and readjusted her position on the floor.

        “This is the periodic table, noble gases stable, halogens and alkali react aggressively,” Y/N hummed as she highlighted the incorrect parts of the paper in front of her. “Each period will see new outer shells, while electrons are added moving to the right.”

        Just as she was about to start off the second verse, her doorbell rang, and her stomach gurgled in response.

        “Ugh,” she groaned to herself. “Pasta come to fuckin’ mama.”

        But when she opened the door, she wasn’t greeted by the Uber Eats delivery man.

        “Harry.”

        Y/N was taken aback. She didn’t expect him to visit her, especially not so soon and especially to fly out to New York (as much as he was most likely there to do other stuff as well, her gut told her he was there for her). 

Sure, she hoped that one day they could be friends, if not acquaintances, he was too important of a person for her to lose completely from her life, but that was looking like five years into the future.

        “I bring gifts.” He raised his hand where her boxes of food hung in a paper bag. “Can I?”

        “Uh, yeah, of course!” She shook her head to clear it from the shock and allowed Harry to enter into the warmth of her apartment and escape from the cold January air.

        “I was on my way up when the delivery man came in, and I recognised by the boxes it was yours.” The smirk on Harry’s face was something Y/N loved to see, but usually, she liked to also wipe it away. Preferably with her own lips. 

        She let out a small scoff, not waiting to see if he followed inside, as she scurried to the adjacent kitchen and grabbed two plates, while he opened up the white cardboard containers and allowed the delicious smell of spaghetti Bolognese as well as a carbonara waft into the air. Y/N had wanted to eat the latter at some point during the night when the munchies hit, but she supposed Harry was probably hungry as well. “Maybe there’s someone else here, who likes Italian.”

        “Probably, but only you would order from the shittiest Italian restaurant just because they have pesto and parmesan bread.”

        “Hey!” She slapped his arm. “They’re not shit. They provide me with everything I need – calories, carbs and bread.”

        “What more does a person need?”

        “Exactly!”

        Both of them let out small chuckles and then settled down on her couch to dig into the meal. They ate in silence, and despite Y/N’s initial shock, it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, they were sitting pretty much shoulder to shoulder, as she watched Harry re-read the spread-out articles on the table and use her marker to tick some stuff that could use re-wording. He had a knack for words, after all.

        “I uh…” He wiped his mouth with one of the napkins provided by the diner before clasping his fingers together and looking at the woman sitting next to him, as she slowly set her empty plate on the small cupboard beside the sofa. “I was hoping we could talk.”

        Y/N hung her head. She should’ve known he wasn’t here to just check-in and have some dinner. “We already did. Twice might I add. What makes you think this time the ending will be different?”

        “Third times the charm?” Harry let out a little laugh, and she rolled her eyes. “Look, I didn’t wanna leave everything the way I did. I – I said some pretty shit things.”

        Y/N fiddled with her thumb. ‘I had,’ Harry’s words echoed in her head. ‘Only she didn’t trust that I loved her the same.’ “Nothing that was untrue though.”

        “See, that’s where I think both of us are wrong.”

        That was not what Y/N thought this conversation would be whatsoever.

        “I – “ He cleared his throat. “I know I said I didn’t think you trusted me that I loved you enough. I think you know I did – do.”

        If Y/N still had any food in her mouth she would’ve choked on it, as she bit back the rising lump in her throat, but instead of interrupting him, she let Harry continue. “And honestly, it’s not your fault that it fell apart, ‘s my fault too. I pushed you to do something, you didn’t want to, weren’t comfortable with, when you told me not to… just because I wanted to feel important, ‘nd because I wanted to get a role in your life you weren’t ready for yet. And I’m sorry for doing that. I should’ve never forced you.”

        “Harry…” Y/N was at a complete loss. “I – I don’t really know what to say.”

        He took her left hand in his and clasped it, finally able to properly say what'd been eating away at him. “During the New Year party, I didn’t go about it the right way. I was just – I was just still so hurt, and I wanted you to hurt the same because… it didn’t seem like you cared at all, which I know you did… I know you loved me, and…” He took in a deep breath. “I hope that you still do. At least enough to give us another chance. We can take it at your pace,” he instantly added, knowing how she’d react, expecting the sigh and the almost tired and resigned ‘Harry’ that escaped her lips. But he’d say everything on his mind. “You can take how long you need to feel like you can trust me with what’s bothering you.”

        “Harry,” she repeated, but it didn’t seem like he was about to stop.

        “But I think we can do it, and we can do it right this time. We know where we stand, we won't make the same mistakes.”

        Y/N’s hand came to rest against his cheek, and he practically melted, engulfing her palm with his as to not let her touch leave his skin for even a second. “Are you even listening to yourself?”

        “Look, I know, you’re scared, and the thing is, so am I. I don’t want it to end like that or end. Period. But I do want to try again.”

        And if nothing but to humour him Y/N asked, “And if it does end the same way?”

        “It won’t.” He was so sure of it, she had to laugh.

        “Harry, the big difference between us is – you like to talk about your feelings. You like to go through them and stuff. I don’t. I feel… icky when I even think about talking to someone of what I feel. We’re just too opposite.”

        “Opposites attract.”

        “No,” she pointed a finger at him, stifling her laughter, though Harry seemed not to be hiding his smile. “Do not use science against me.”

        He raised his hands as if in surrender. “I’m not, I’m just supporting my point with facts. Scientific facts, that you can’t argue against.”

        “I mean…” Y/N shrugged her shoulders. “I dunno… Maybe it was a good thing we ended it when we did. It was ten months – almost ten – amazing months, but… can you imagine if we’d gone so far as to think about moving in together, and then it fell apart? That would’ve been a whole different kind of a mess.”

        “Do you love me?”

        Y/N sighed, resting her cheek against the couch while she smoothed away his brown locks from his face. “Of course, I do. Don’t think there will be a time in my life I don’t.”

        “Then that’s all I need.”

         “Is that really enough for you?”

        “Yes.”

        And there was no lie in that single word. Did he want for Y/N to feel comfortable enough with him that she talked about whatever concerned her, however small? Of course. But he also wanted her to be comfortable enough to be herself. If that meant her keeping things to herself, and trusting Harry to support her decisions, it’d be enough.

        Her Y/E/C eyes hadn’t left his green ones, and they only widened as he leaned forwards and pressed his forehead to hers.

        “Haz…”

        Fuck, how he’d missed her calling him that. It wasn’t an exclusive nickname by any means, but when it came from Y/N’s mouth, it was the sweetest sound in the universe.

        He was her Haz when he broke a plate, he was her Haz when she threw her head back as pleasure exploded through her body, he was her Haz when he took her hand in his to quell her anxiety, and he was her Haz when he gave her tissues as they watched a movie, and she couldn’t help but cry each time a dog or cat died (or a dragon, but he was a sobbing mess as well because ‘Dragonheart’ messed with them both).

        His lips were so close, and just as they skimmed over her own, Y/N’s phone rang making her physically spring back, eyes like saucers.

        “S – Sorry,” she stammered, scrambling to find the annoying device between the cushions. It was Sarah’s name that lit up her screen.

        “Hey, what’s up?” Y/N started, voice trembling and shaky. God, when had she suddenly gone so out of breath? And why was her head so dizzy, as if she’d just gotten off a rollercoaster?

        “Yeah, he’s here,” she replied, eyeing Harry. “Yeah, just a sec,” and Y/N handed him her phone with a quiet ‘why’s your phone always dead?’

        ‘Didn’t know it died’, he said, but that was untrue. He’d turned it off so this sort of a situation wouldn’t happen; so a call or text wouldn’t interrupt him at the most critical moment. He had to give the universe a proper talk once he was done.

        “ ‘Ello?” 

        Seconds of silence passed, and Y/N didn’t like how weird it was, so she took the empty plates and put them in the sink to soak.

        “Now?”

        She could see the frustration rise in Harry as his forehead creased, and he let a hand rake through his hair. “Fuck’s sake… yeah, I’ll be there in ten. ‘S alright,” he sighed. “Not your fault Sarah. Tell Jeff not to worry, and that I’m not dead.”

        With that, he pressed the red button and ended the call, drumming his fingers against the screen. God, he really didn’t want to leave. Not now. Not after he’d been so close.

        “Uh, work?” Y/N asked, arms crossed in front of her as if she was protecting herself from the answer. 

        “Yeah, sorry. I uh a meeting from tomorrow got rescheduled for tonight, like right now because there was some sort of an emergency from the label’s side."

        “ ‘S alright, I get it. Showbiz never stops.” Y/N motioned to the door. “I’ll walk you out.”

        There were a couple of times in his life Harry wanted to give himself a beating. Once when he was six and Gemma had told on him after he’d broken a favourite vase of their mothers, he decided to get revenge and destroy her favourite plushie. He’d never forget the tears Gem had cried, and how absolutely heartbroken she’d sounded. He vowed although he was the little brother, to never ever let anyone hurt her like that, and if someone did, they’d meet their maker sooner rather than later.

        The second time was when he was still a teenager, One Direction on the rise, and it had gotten to his head just a little bit more than it should’ve. He’d gotten really messed up at a party (which Harry shouldn’t have even been at). The disappointment on his mother’s face as she scolded him through FaceTime was gut-wrenching enough to make him promise to always know the limit.

        And Harry guessed this was the third time.

        He could’ve said no to the meeting. Jeff was there and so was Sarah and Mitch. The three of them could handle it for him. It’s not like he would mind much whatever they came up with if it had given him the time to settle things with Y/N. 

        “It was great to see you, Harry.” She brought him out from the thoughts as she unlocked the door and opened it for him, bringing her jumper sleeves over her palms to hide from the cold outside air. “Really. I – I missed you, and honestly, I’m glad we got to talk. I uh well, take care. And say hi to Sarah from me please.”

        “I – “ he took hold of Y/N’s wrist before she could turn away. “I’m holding a small concert in a week. Here in uh in New York. It’s for charity… I want you to come.”

        “I umm… I’ll have to check if I’m free, but yeah. I will. Thank you.”

        “ ‘S no problem… Sarah missed you like crazy now that you’re not in LA as often… ‘n yeah. Anyway. I’ll put your name on the guest list, so just bring some ID, and they’ll let you backstage.”

        “Okay,” she whispered and gave him a small, genuine smile. “Thank you. I’ll really try to come.”

        “Yeah.”

        And he was going to go without doing anything else. Harry truly was. But as he released her wrist, going to the stairs, he gave Y/N one last glance back, and it was like his feet had a mind of their own, as they carried him back to where she stood by the still open door, grabbed her by the waist and pressed his lips to hers. 

        He expected Y/N to push him away, but to his very huge delight, she didn’t. Instead, her fingers wove through his hair and her legs almost on instinct rose so he could take her by the thighs, wrap them around his middle and press her against the doorway. 

        The groan that Harry swallowed from Y/N only ignited the fire that’d been burning ever since he met her, but it wasn’t the destructive kind, like the ones that leave nothing but charcoal behind. It was warm. Safe. Like the light of a fairy light. Like the embrace of home.

        “Come to the show,” he muttered against Y/N’s lips, as they broke apart, and he set her down on the ground, not letting go until he was sure she was steady on her feet. “I’ll wait for you.”

        With that, he left because if he didn’t, he’d make sure Y/N would be unable to walk for a week.

        And Y/N watched him retreat while her brain fought with her heart.

        What was it he’d sung in ‘Golden’, as he’d twirled her in the sea of bodies and glitter a little bit more than a year ago? ‘Loving is the antidote?’ 

        Maybe love was the antidote to her fear.

        She closed the door.

        And smiled.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15​ @breezykpop​ @girlboss99​ @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist​ @alliyjane​ @sirtommyholland​

A/N: I’ve been listening to ‘Fine Line’, ‘The Periodic Table Song’, ‘Welcome to the Christmas Parade’ (Welcome to the Black Parade mix with All I Want For Christmas) and ‘Rasputin’ Boney M remix exclusively... I feel like a complete crackhead... :D

Decided to tag also those who wanted a part 2 but didn’t necessarily ask to be tagged :)

P.S. I guess there will be a part 3???

P.S.S. if you wanna be added to a tag list drop me a message :)

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fandom #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x you #golden #fine line #one direction #one direction imagine #1d #1d fan fiction #harry styles angst #harry styles and y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles and you #harry styles and reader

[hazbincalifornia]

Midnight Snack

Chapter 25: Blitzo gets peckish.

Warnings: As always, mpreg, and implied animal death. Also stuffing if that needs a tag I guess, and BABY VIOLENCE. (Violence committed by a baby, not against a baby.)

Likes, replies, and reblogs are all appreciated, both here and on ao3!

Ao3 link

Blitzo’s stomach gurgled, and his arms tightened around the pillow that he was hugging to his chest. A fussy, hungry stomach wouldn’t have necessarily been a problem, except for the fact that it had been doing it for the past hour, and he was just about ready to tear it right out of his skin and rip it in half. Acid sloshed around audibly in his empty gut- or maybe the freeloader wanted more room and was just squashing the organ down so much that it had resorted to griping as loudly as it could. Relatable fuckin’ content right there.

Dinner had been two burgers and fries smothered in hot sauce and mayo from the grease trap down the road, which was more than enough to coast through until breakfast. Besides, he’d be damned if the kid was going to make him deal with the grocery store any more than he had to in this condition. No, he was staying right where he was, especially considering he’d been denied any sleep last night. One day low on sleep was manageable with reduced caffeine, two would suck satan’s left tit.

“C’mon, that was enough and you know it, I don’t want you ruining my figure any more than you already have,” he grumbled as the muscles clenched around his stomach, wringing it out like a sponge and drawing a pitiful whine out of his throat. “I’m not gonna just- give in and give you whatever you want, daddy’s gotta do him sometimes and I’m not letting you empty out the fridge. I ate enough, siphon blood outta my system like a normal leech does. I’ve got plenty of that.”

The reply was another gurgling groan and a hard clench as Blitzo’s empty stomach demanded sustenance, this time loud enough to make his middle vibrate even through the pounds of baby. He stuffed the pillow over his mouth, drool leaking down the case and over his chin as he forced out a scream.

He had to take a few seconds to pant before setting a hand on the side of his stomach, fingers drumming. “This is a battle of wills, and I am not letting you win. Your baby-daddy already started all this shit, so I’m just going to treat you the same as him- by ignoring you as long as feasibly possible until you decide to pop up and make everything difficult. Sound good? Yeah, sounds perfect.” There was a nudge from inside and Blitzo nodded in satisfaction at the apparent agreement, settling back down on the bed. He’d gone to sleep hungry plenty of times before, the baby gut notwithstanding, he just had to muscle through this for the next few-

There was no time to muffle the next scream as a sudden pinching pain went from ‘noticeable’ to ‘holy shit who’s tearing up my guts with a chainsaw?’, and there was a thud and a shuffling of feet before Loona started pounding on the door.

“You having a heart attack in there or something?”

Blitzo clutched at his stomach, wheezing as he was clawed apart from the inside out. “N-no!”

“Look, if you die, I’m on the hook for the rent.” Still, there was a semi-worried vibrato to her voice, and he swallowed down the coppery taste flooding up with the saliva to his mouth.

“I’m- fINE-!” His voice pitched up at another pinch-turned-horrorshow and his claws dug all the way through the pillow, stuffing spilling out like viscera.

“What the fuck are you doing in there?” The doorknob jiggled. Where was a portable x-ray when you needed one? Or ultrasound, or whatever the fuck you used to look at a baby that was trying to kill him before it even got out yet. What kind of horrible mouth or claws must it have- oh, fucking hell, Stolas had said something about his kid having a razor-sharp beak from birth, hadn’t he?

“Okay, I’m coming in.” Loona eased the door open, already in her pajamas and clutching a package of opened peanut butter crackers tightly enough that crumbs were sticking to her fingers. “You look like shit.”

“I feel like shit, so good-” Sharp inhale for breath, let it out- “-To know that I’m all on the same page.”

She dropped down on the bed with a metallic creak. “What’d the kid do now?”

“It feels like they’re biting me again, but w-worse- fuck!” Another nip, this one dragging a line on the inside of the womb like they were drift racing in there. Wait, dragging? He swallowed down more coppery bile. “Okay, fine, fine, sheesh, I’ll fuckin’ eat something, happy you little shithead?”

Loona raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t say anything.”

Blitzo shoved himself up off the bed to wobbly knees. “Junior’s gotten real bold, and instead of just sucking up the meat I’m eating for them like a good little lump, they decided to put me on the menu- ow, fuck, I’m going, keep your baby-tits on!”

“Babies don’t have tits, Blitzo.”

“They do if I say they do, sweetie.” Blitzo ruffled Loona’s fur between her ears as he waddled across the room, pausing next to the TV to take a breath.

Loona raised an eyebrow. “Do you need me to bring you something? I don’t want you passing out in the middle of the apartment and tripping over you tomorrow morning.”  In response, Blitzo just waved a dismissive hand.

“I can handle walking across two rooms, Loonie.” The active chewing had paused for the moment, but whatever they’d shredded in there was still shredded, and he’d rather not make it any worse- he had work tomorrow, dammit.

The fridge bathed him in a sickly, hospital-like glow as he tugged it open, and drool immediately started leaking from his mouth as the smells of half-forgotten, time-ripened leftovers hit him. A small mouse with four red eyes leaped up from the floor when he opened the door, burrowing into a box of takeout on the bottom shelf that Loona must have gotten when he’d been at Stolas’s place. His tongue snapped out automatically, snatching its furry body up and slurping up the tail between his lips before swallowing, and it took a second for his brain to load enough to register- after it slid down his throat.

Holy shit, did he just…? It squirmed a little as it descended, little hairs stuck in his teeth, and his fingers tightened on the side of his stomach before he reached for the box it had been after to wash out the aftertaste.

Everything after that was a bit of a blur, although he did retain enough sense of mind to avoid the six-pack of cheap beer in the back that still had four cans on it. Better to not risk puking all of this up or ruining the kid any more than they already were. Carbs, meat, a few wilted veggies that Moxxie had pawned off on him, sweet, sour, cold chili and whole untoasted bagels- it didn’t really matter what it was as long as it was at least mostly edible (he was pretty sure he swallowed a wrapper at some point), he just needed it inside of him now. Smothering everything in hot sauce and salsa and mustard made it more palatable anyway, especially the ice cream. The kid didn’t start taking chunks out of him again, at least, so he must have been doing something right. More and more of the white fridge walls became visible as the floor around him littered with containers, and his stomach grew tighter before he finally slumped back against the nearby counter with a groan. His legs sprawled out on the cool tile, both hands now stained with a mixture of about five kinds of leftovers, and he cradled his stomach after muffling a burp.

“Are you happy now, you needy little shit?”

Blitzo didn’t really expect a reply and almost didn’t hear it over the churning gurgles of digestion, but a soft ‘eee’ of a hoot, more a whisper-screech than anything, murmured from his midsection. He stared down at it, the warmth of his full stomach counteracted by ice dripping down his back.

“Oh, of course you sound just like him.” His claws dragged along the sensitive, itchy-while-stretched skin before the protection spell sprung up and pushed the fingers away. It only let him touch his own stupid body when he laid his palm flat. “Sure, it’s cute now when it's all little and squeaky, but you’d better not be as entitled as he is, alright? Or as you are now, since I’ve gotta do everything for you until you’re born. Considering you just settled right down in there without even asking in the first place, I doubt it. Rude.”

There were no more noises other than his stomach grumbling about going from empty to full so quickly, and he stayed slumped against the cabinet for long enough to let some of it digest. He must have been more tired than he thought, because he swore that he already looked bigger than he’d been when he’d finished binging. Maybe it started swelling in a bad reaction from whatever fucked-up food cocktail he'd accidentally made.

When he didn’t feel quite so much like a boulder had gotten stuffed inside his guts, it took three tries to haul his ass off the tile and drag himself back to bed, huffing like a cop running for the last doughnut in the process.

The ice had crept from his spine to the rest of his bones and muscles as he tugged the blanket tight around himself, but at least the churning food kept his stomach warm, and he passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

#insert that one link image with 'it's my fic and I get to write the self-indulgent bs' #I could have gotten more descriptive but then it woulda been like... the longest chapter and I'm not giving that to THIS #it is plot relevant though I promise #one time #daddy blitzo #shadow writes stuff #helluva mpreg #chub stuff

[crimsonandcloverwrites]

bhah ch8 reread as fast as i can before ch11 arrives help

aww Dani nervous for Jamie’s big race is so cute

i love Dani’s whole photography thing n her wanting to document their lives it’s so sweet

i’m suddenly stuck on the whole blue as a theme thing n now I’m noticing it everywhere/remembering their tent was blue and now their school colours are blue and Dani’s car is blue and I think Jamie’s house is blue. and of course THE SCRUNCHIE

god I love track star Jamie

flip these two are cute together

‘a favour for good luck’ god idk why this gets me so much I think like... Dani giving her this little piece of herself is so wholesome but weirdly loaded i just love it

the carson eddie banter is so funny sdkdhfgj

Dani is such a lil ball of emotions I’m obsessed w her feeling a million things while she watches Jamie

she’s a winner baby!!

also love that this is her setting the record that was mentioned in the prev chapter we love lil details being followed through

Jamie going straight for Dani when she won god that’s so cute

aw Jamie gets a kiss (and a whole gay crisis lol) for her win how sweet

oh no the beginnings of Dani and Eddie

pls this is so soft Carson and Judy so proud of Jamie

I just ate so many carbs I am finally properly fueled for this reading sprint (solidarity w Jamie)

aw Nan quietly proud of her

fkjdfh Dani and Jamie playing footsies at the table

god Nan n Jamie are such a force together truly terrifying to be stuck in the middle of I’m sure. Also fuuuck cld u imagine grown up Jamie and Nan interacting and Jamie in particular being a bit more chilled out and them getting along a lot better but finding their way back to silly little bickering arguments that are really just them knowing they can do that w each other and still be ok at the end of the day bc they love each other ouch it hurts to think about :(

lmao Jamie losing her mind at the sight of Dani in a towel lol I can just imagine her having the same reaction when they’re together too

oooh is the watch from Jamie’s great uncle (? Nan’s brother that she was named for right?) that’s so cool

ugh I want Dani to get her travel adventures so bad

god everytime Dani touches Jamie or says something really sweet or just gives her a look Jamie is suffering so bad

THE MIXTAPE (LITTLE BLUE DUDE SCREAMING AT THE SKY.MEME)

oh god they’re really just gonna curl up in Jamie’s bed and listen to this declaration of love mixtape while Jamie plays with Dani’s hair hold on a minute wait a second

oh no the eddie of it all

aw he brought her flowers (like I am not here for their relationship overall but he does do some sweet things sometimes and he does clearly care abt her)

ugh of course Jamie helped pick them out tho this whole situation is so complicated

god I’m so sad for both of them that their relationship ended up like this. Dani loses that friendship she cherishes so much when it becomes something else she never wanted and Eddie is in love w a girl who will never love him back that way. it really is heartbreaking

oh god the house party time for chaos

Jamie my beloved. sdkjfhsdkjfh and Roger trying to put the moves on her pls this will never stop being funny to me

ugh Dani already feeling so trapped in this life I hate it I hate it

Jamie fiddling w the coin necklace while she watches Dani n Eddie together feels like... she knows she’s losing Dani on some level ouch my heart

is this when Jamie was telling Ed of for letting Dani get drunk wdjkfhdj always the protector aw

she’s still wearing Dani’s scrunchie oh my god. u may have her hand ed but u will never have her hair ties

Dani’s dress MORE BLUE

this is such an interesting event w them like they’re best friends and they’re together so much but they avoid each other for half the party it’s so like... indicative I guess of things changing between them hmmmm

cursed spin the bottle. poor Dani

the zippo lighter. i love seeing things from the box in these chapters. like a gay scavenger hunt

the inadvertent cigarette kiss oh my god. also a little bit like... Jamie just leaning into the pain huh??? I get to put my lips where her lips were but it’s around this thing that has the potential to kill me. god the implications

a little fireside cuddling w ur soulmate ur never gonna kiss how romantic

the sandalwood. I fuckin love that she held onto this scent after Dani told her she smells nice one time. gays really do be like that huh

god this really is the softest moment

christ that almost kiss is so intense how did they just carry on as normal after that I would have died

lol “did i interrupt something?” bro........

dsfkjhdkj Jamie GROWLING at him hahhahahahhaha

oof Dani just wants more of her. I love there was the mention of her carefully constructed walls crumbling and now she’s just like... in this little bubble of almost with her n trying so hard to hold onto that in any way she can

and now she’s back w eddie ouch I hate watching the things she wants slipping out of her grasp

lmao Eddie not putting his arm around Dani when Jamie is there. she really put the fear of god in him I love this angry little lesbian so much

poor Carson being dragged to sports games like “no I’m gay I can’t”

lmao the pair of them trying to be sneaky smoking around the corner (and also having more Moments god the tension of it all)

oooh this Orpheus and Eurydice ref spicy (also fuck this was the beginning of her actually losing Jamie huh god the storytelling... *chef’s kiss*)

oh no Nan :(

god Karen is so awful how could u just break the news to your kid like that

it’s only pain hours from here on out huh

poor Jamie god my heart breaks

something about Dani saying she’s sorry and Jamie just saying she has to go put Mikey to bed fucking breaks me. the fact she’s just lost everything, her home and the stability she was missing from her childhood that she got to have for such a short time, and she can probably barely even process it but all she knows is she has to take care of Mikey. fuck

god her destroying her bike because she’s just so devestated but anger and destruction is easier to feel than being sad.... ouch

“You don’t - you don’t have to feel anything right now. I’ll feel it for you. For the both of us” how dare u make me cry like this

god Jamie giving the scrunchie back feels like such a fucking sad little acknowledgement of her deciding she has to do everything on her own noooo

Dani trying to confront her mom god this is all so much for them to be dealing with I am so sad

tiny mikey saying “want nana” so much pain

Jamie just clinging to Dani when they’re sitting in the pew bc it’s the only way she can ask for help right now ow

“Don’t fight me” my fcking heart this chapter is so sad I need a drink

Jamie is far too young to be self-medicating her way through this god this hurts to read.

this chapter has such a melancholic loss of innocence vibe like going from the teenage parties and boys and track meets and only really having to worry about themselves to this massive amount of responsibility on their shoulders when nan dies (like as much as Jamie tries to push her away Dani takes on a huge burden in trying to help her too) it’s so fucking saaaad

Jamie just breaking and finally crying all this out in Dani’s arms holyyyy shit that will never not break my heart

god Jamie just. determined to raise Mikey on her own cause god knows what the alternative is :(

oof the thread of Jamie determined to fix things. baby sometimes u just cant.

Dani trying so hard to hold things together in the ways that she can :*(

god this ending I am in pain. i know it’s ultimately for the best like Jamie and Mikey absolutely could not carry on like that but.... bro... bro..... ouch

ok gonna go cry in the shower for a bit n then i’ll be back for ch9

#bhah #this really was the highest of highs and the lowest of lows #trying to speed read that might have been a mistake

[unproduciblesmackdown]

Times Winston the Quant Was Right (The Series So Far)

3x03: "Boring." (he’s not wrong. so)

3x03: "I'm rejecting the premise, or flipping the script." (idk true of the character in general. he is one of the characters who hardly fits in / does not always follow the "rules" of work interactions, including here.)

3x03: "And they pay guarantees, not bonuses." (he doesn't get a bonus after his first year working in finance)

3x03: "I've heard about Taylor Mason; love to see if you live up to the hype..." (they do, & he apparently does love to see it. he is Right to say this)

3x09: "I promise to try. But as for successfully not being a dick: I can't absolutely guarantee it. Like I can my coding." ("you backslid into being a dick" "fine, yes, big time" "You Know What? The Other Two Were Sweet, But You're More Talented. I Need You." "Damn Right You Do, cuz i'm the yngwie malmsteen of coding: total control of the instrument.")

3x11: "Wait, this isn't some t-test. This is something you'd pitch an investor." (they are planning to pitch it to an investor)

3x11: "[Taylor: Are you going to tell me you can't play this solo?] Course not." (he doesn’t tell them that; he can play that solo)

3x11: "It's ready, it's fuckin’ ready, don't tell me it's not ready." (”it’s ready.”)

4x03: "Man, I fucking knew it. There was something unnatural about the way we were getting sawed off. I even started an email to let you know!" ("i'm cassandra!")

4x03: "It's pronounced 'owned.'" (it is, most pedantically correctly. we're fine w/little a pedantry around here)

4x08: "You've also never seen them cut off their own father's head before." (accurately understanding the Intrinsic emotional state behind taylor's Extrinsic behavior: "no, you're right" - taylor)

4x08: "I motherfucking win!" (being seemingly the one person to win their fight night bet)

4x11: [the whole 4x11 admonishlogue] (points were made; taylor listened)

4x12: "Q is for ‘quantitative,’ baby!" ("that it is." (it really is))

5x01: [he may be motivated to be contrarian out of Not Unearned pettiness lol but. while i’m sure axe cappers Could become quants if they wanted to i do not think it is inaccurate to say quants might be able to do some specialized math applications non quants couldn’t manage just b/c they choose to give quantly things a shot with 100% fundamental analyst experience (see: the sharpe ratio hundredths of a decimal moment in 5x02)]

5x02: [explaining math stuff to dollar bill (sure he also just wasn't actually going to Try to hone an algorithm for bill and also didn't bother actually doing anything with bill's money for real besides simulating a loss via an asshole tax but not like he's wrong about the algorithm lore)]

5x03: "No fuckin’ way you understand it." (mafee probably does not...(see: the 5x01 point))

5x03: "Hell yeah we can! I mean...this'll be the first live test, but yeah, I'm pretty fuckin' sure." (not only do they pull this off, he later divests all mase cap's non green investments for mase carb purposes in 5x05)

5x05: "The math works the same no matter the names we own and that is where you will always need me." (the math does work the same, at least)

5x05: "Her name's Rian? Are you serious? [...] Fuck. We are so screwed." (pending lmfao. You Know. possibilities)

5x05: “It's a coup d'etat." / [the whole idea wendy wants to get rid of taylor mason loyalists on purpose] (Accuracy Pending as well but. for a start he's just right that, whatever her agenda actually is, they can't trust wendy.)

5x05: "I've been aboard. The whole damn time!" (he really has)

5x06: [rian & winston's back & forth at their desks is basically them implicitly going "you're right, but" in each response to the other's previous remark]

5x07: [nothing rian & winston say to taylor in 5x07 is exactly like, coherent & correct, but shoutout to their still managing to give taylor the Key Info Rundown they need. winston's Being Right is also surely Sometimes about writing him as providing exposition for taylor / the viewer but hey. it still makes him a source of useful info & taylor is Right to listen to him all the time.]

#wasn't sure this was gonna include something from Every episode appearance; esp. b/c he doesn't talk much in some #but that's part of a reason for finally putting together a Winston Is Right compilation in the first place lol #sure some of these are a little humorous / a little bit of a stretch but. it's all serious enough #winston billions #being expressive with Punctuation in the quotes; being expressive with capitalization (and punctuation) in the parentheticals... #of course i need to give extra commentary lmao

[funeral-clown]

For @demibuckybarnes. Happy Birthday!

Emmett sighed in a deep, happy breath. Then he did it again. Then, with a faint air of hedonism, one more time. Just to enjoy it. The sweet and heavy pull of air in and out unimpeded by anything else. Fresh air was always worth savoring, even so long after leaving home.

The stars swirled and twinkled above him like a bright canvas. He was laid back and glancing upwards, reclined on the roof of the food truck with one arm laying behind his head and the other resting comfortably on his gut. It had been a dull day, which the faint tugging on the back of his mind said was a reprieve. Something was building, to be sure. Probably be a run in with one of the others of the brood soon. Emmett sighed again, this time slightly less happily. But only slightly.

“Whatcha doin’, big guy?”

Ash’s head poked over the edge of the roof, grinning. His feet balanced precariously on the edge of the doorway as he crossed his arms on the roof for balance and nestled his chin in.

Emmett’s eyes slid from the stars to his driver, who under the street lights illuminating the parking lot they were spending the night in glowed in a star like fashion himself. His peroxide hair flew about his face like a cornet, or a halo, or some other sappy metaphor Emmett was privately embarrassed to consider.

“Y’r hair’s in y’r face again.”

Ash laughed.

“It does what it wants.”

Emmett nodded.

“ ‘S nice.”

Tired of being left out, Ash clambered up onto the roof himself, knees and elbows banging about in a comedic fashion. Half on top of Emmett, he grinned and nestled in closer.

“Cold?”

Emmett huffed amiably, taking the arm from his stomach and wrapping it around the other man. Ash hummed happily and squirmed closer.

“We haven’t seen the others in a while, huh?”

Emmett, with some effort, shrugged.

“Was thinkin’ so myself. Might be a run in soon. Which ones ya figure?”

Ash hummed thoughtfully. He was always the better one when it came to guessing who might be coming. Or, more accurately, who they might be going to.

“Don’t know,” he said finally. Emmett nodded.

“Who ya want it to be?”

Ash’s teeth glittered in the dark.

“Who’d’ya think, babe?”

Emmett nodded again, slower, considering.

“Should probably set up something good tomorrow. Lotta meat and veggies and carbs. Maybe a stew.”

Ash raised an eyebrow.

“Cooking for us?”

Emmett stretched out a bit more before settling again.

“For her. Don’t think she gets enough nutrition, hanging around them all the time. Forget to feed her more than beer and junk.”

Ash propped himself up, excited.

“You think it’s really gonna be them?”

Emmett smiled.

“I think I’m gonna be ready if it is.”

Ash whooped loudly.

-

Martin stopped, physically, verbally, and the car. The Oh No Mobile whined in protest before quieting again to see what would happen. He sucked in a lungful of air through his teeth. The others froze and stared at him, waiting. Amanda looked up from her nails, a new streak of bright purple polish slashed down her knuckles.

She raised an eyebrow at Cross, who grinned at her in a manner that would make anyone else quite nervous, but nevertheless gave her comfort. Vogel jostled into her excitedly, like an eager puppy trying to make her smile. Despite herself, she did.

“We’re pullin’ over.”

“Why?”

Martin reached back and patted her knee, eyes meeting hers in the rear-view mirror.

“Good a place as any.”

Amanda shrugged, busting through the doors with the rest of the boys, yelling loudly and taking stock of the location. It seemed to be some sort of highway rest stop, scattered picnic tables and the odd pavilion scattered around a hill. A squat stone hutch with bathrooms was pressed against the edge of a corner. The few people in the park seemed faintly alarmed, in the tired manner of those who have been driving too long to particularly care about howling strangers yelling around. A young nervous looking couple edged towards their own vehicle, and a group of bleary eyed bikers looked up from their sandwiches in idle curiosity.

With great pomp, Martin sat himself on top of one of the wooden benches and glared around him. The others flocked to it, under a pine tree and on the edge of the encroaching woods. Gripps lit a blunt and handed it to Cross. Vogel climbed the tree. Amanda breathed in deeply. As much as she loved her boys, 5 people in one van could get a little crowded. Cross offered her a hit, only to be rebuffed.

“What’re we waitin’ for?”

Martin shrugged, laying back on the table lazily. He seemed uncharacteristically at ease. The low rumble of passing cars filled the artificial clearing. There was a squeal of resistance as a large van pulled in to the park. With a loud cry, Ash hopped out of the drivers’ seat and ran to tackle Amanda, who rose to greet him in turn.

“Manda!”

“Ash! Holy shit, you’re here!”

“I’m here! YOU’RE here!”

“We’re here!”

“I think,” Emmett drawled as he made his way over, “We can all agree that we’re here.”

Ash gave his shoulder a friendly shrug.

“Don’t be an asshole, babe.”

Emmett tried to look appalled. He didn’t try very hard.

“You bring snacks?” Vogel called from the top of the tree.

“Depends. Snacks for who?”

“Me, dude!”

Emmett laughed.

“Nobody with us but us. But I got little, uh, whatchamacallits. Little. Fuckin. Petit fours.”

He blew a loud raspberry, but Gripps looked up in interest. Amanda came over to lean against Emmett, a small brush of contact, like a cat gently re-establishing friendship. He ruffled her hair.

“Got plenty eats for this one though. Needs more than fuckin knocked over McDonalds’.”

Amanda lit up like an electric fireplace.

“Fuck yes, dude! I’ve been WANTING something real!”

Emmett reddened slightly, pleased.

“ ‘S nothin’ much t’all. Plenty to get boxed up and take with.”

One of the bikers had begun to nonchalantly amble by, in the manner of the eternally nosy.

“Excuse me,” she called, “Are you some kinda. Food truck or something? Because I’ll not lie, we’re sick as dogs of road sandwiches.”

Emmett scratched at the side of his head, rumbling in his chest with unspoken musing.

“Yeah, alright. Y’all better like gumbo.”

Her eyes widened.

“I’ve been craving gumbo for weeks!”

“Yeah,” he muttered, “That sounds about right.”

Amanda ducked under his arm and wrapped an arm around his waist, then threw her other over Ash’s shoulders, walking them to the truck.

“I missed you, boys.”

“I missed you too! I mean this guy is GREAT but sometimes it’s nice to talk to someone who knows what Harry Potter is.”

Emmett looked over his shoulder back at Martin, who shrugged.

Ash rolled his eyes.

“I love these guys, they’re always a good time, but Amanda, you are my salvation. I love that you’ve taken the polish off the nail. VERY avant-garde.”

Amanda threw her head back and laughed. Emmett slipped her grasp and opened up the service window of the food truck.

“Open for business,” he called.

-

After everyone was fed and were laying out on the grass, Emmett sat next to Martin.

“Seen Bart lately?”

Martin shook his head.

“Seen English?”

Emmett hummed.

“Few months back. Sayin’ somethin’ bout. Atlantis?”

Martin scoffed.

“That sounds like him. How bout any of the others?”

Emmett lay back.

“Drift in and out. Thought I saw Priest for a hot second in Arizona.”

Martin grimaced, half a snarl caught in his throat on instinct.

“Only thought?”

“Only thought.”

Martin nodded.

“Told your boy yet?”

Emmett shook his head.

“Still safer not knowing.”

He frowned.

“Never gonna understand that. Not sharing. Told ours the second we got her.”

“How long till Blackwing got their hands on her?”

There was a telling pause.

“Besides,” Emmett continued with a forced levity, “If I didn’t share, I wouldn’t bring y’all treats.”

Meanwhile, Ash and Amanda were sitting in the grass doing a braid train with Cross and Gripps at the ends. Vogel had come down long enough to smear his face with chocolate, and was starting to build a fire in one of the camp grills. He eyed the weathered picnic tables in consideration. Amanda whistled for his attention, then pointed without judgement at the forest full of sticks. He sent a happy thumbs up.

“Good family reunion.”

“Ain’t bad.”

“Sorry your sister didn’t make this one.”

“Balances out. Her brother didn’t either.”

Martin’s laugh was a hoarse thing. Ash looked up to see what was causing it, then beamed when he saw Emmett talking to him.

“Stop moving,” Gripps whined. “You’re worse than Vogel. Gonna tangle your hair, dude!”

Still laughing, Ash settled down, glancing forward at what his own hands were doing to Amanda’s hair, tucking the strands of hair together. Ahead of her, Amanda wove a dozen tiny braids in Cross’s hair, sticking out around his head like a scarecrow’s straw.He idly pulled at the grass, braiding it himself. VOgel whined, bored and not wanting to be let out. Cross wordlessly handed him braided sticks of grass to burn.

Somewhere in the woods, a man and a woman were burying a body. Somewhere else, two men drove on searching for a beat up van, binoculars laying on the back seat. Somewhere even farther away, two men and a woman where running away from a giant demented fish man waving a trident. Somewhere else entirely, a man vaguely longed for a cup of tea.

The Universe was running smoothly. 

Emmett lie back in the grass, looking up at the oncoming twilight, and took in a deep breath. Smiling slightly, he closed his eyes and, with a faint air of hedonism, did so again slowly.

[researchgate]

Intermittent fasting os not supposed to be like “fast 18 hours, then eat one lettuce leaf”.

The idea of intermittent fasting is to burn fat and not start eating like a starving person after the time you're supposed to eat. You're not supposed to starve at all. The regular IF model is 16/8 - 16 hours fasting (7-9 of which most people spend sleeping) and 8 hours in which you can, theoretically, eat anything you want, how much you want, but in reality, the model calls for 3 nutritional meals during the 8 hours. And while it is recommended to cut off carbs (to allow fat getting burnt instead of carbohydrates), but it's not essential. It's essential to feel good and sated. It sounds crazy to you when it sounds like that? It can be broken down even more easily.

First let's look at a 30 something years old guy who was my teacher:

Morning: waking up not very early. Black coffee.

Getting to class at 10:30, another coffee. Teaching till 14:30 then hits the gym for half an hour and then goes tutoring.

He eats at some point between 15:30 to 16:00, then again between 18:00 to 19:00 and 20:00-21:00 if he's even hungry.

On Fridays he goes for a hummus much earlier because stuff close at like 14:30 on Fridays.

00:00-08:30 he sleeps.

— he's not hungry in the mornings. he actually never really ate in mornings.

— when he started teaching, going to the gym, and then tutoring afterwards, it made his schedule full and put his mind off food.

— man's a carnivore, it's meat almost every day. He eats vegetables too, and stays off carbs beside eating hummus with a pita bread and like, a sandwich as his first meal (to not hurt his stomach).

— he's fuckin healthy, functioning well, and an annoying man but he's not starving.

Now yours truly, after gaining a lot of weight during time she was on heavy medications and had no physical activity to do:

There were two kinds of days: workdays and offdays.

Workdays:

Gotten up at 6:00-6:30 instead of earlier than 4:30. got dressed and took ritalin/vyvanse and went to work. TEA.

Worked at the office and got a salad at 11:00. Had tea and sometimes something sweet like a wafer, went back to work. More tea.

13:30-14:00 /(sometimes till 15:00) went to take the dog for a walk and to the dog park, then back home. Sometimes tea

15:00something - another thing to eat. Usually something cooked. Sometimes salad. Sometimes soy based porridge. Sometimes a sandwich. Sometimes made a whole project out of cooking.

It's like, 16:00something else when I'm done with everything - cleaning the kitchen, washing the dishes/unloading and reloading the dishwasher, eating.

Doing something else until it's 18:00 then a dinner with the fam or alone, if not hungry, not eating.

Going to sleep at like 21:00 and waking up 9 hours later feeling refreshed and ready for the day, not at all hungry as I used to feel in the morning

Offdays:

Waking up: 7:30-8:00 tea.

Taking dog a walk and to the dog park: 9:00-12:00

Tea.

Play with dog, clean up kitchen, dishes, unload and/or reload dishwasher, do laundry, maybe read stuff: 12:30-14:00 and tea

eat: 14:00/14:30-15:00/15:30

Clean my dishes. Make tea. Eat apple; ends in 16:10 max.

feed the dog and take her for a walk

Tea

Going to my room to watch stuff on my phone/play on my computer.

Tea again, this time with something like a graham cracker.

Dinner at 19:00 max, and sleep at 23:00 max.

— Both these instances ive never felt better.

— I gained like, 6 kilos in a month before I started that method. I used it to lose the excess weight gained during some sort of rehab.

— I lost weight, yeah, it was fun too, but mostly I stopped feeling the heaviness of food in my stomach in the mornings and late evenings.

— i didn't get thin af. I just lost what I didn't need anyway, what caused me physical pain climbing upstairs.

— note I was still overweight after couple of months into the method, like I was before rehab. And I was okay with it.

— It was difficult at first. I was used to eat before the ritalin and then at 14:00 and then many times until going to sleep at 01:00am.

— Food made me awake for too late and I was getting up early and lacking energy.

— This method got me both a less disordered eating and a less disordered sleeping schedules.

— stop shaming people who do what they feel is right for them and start thinking if you'd like to be shamed for something like that.

#intermittent fasting

[xserpentlife]

50 questions tag !

Tagged by no one but I saw @romanticgumchewer do it and thought it was cool so

1.) What color is your hairbrush?

so like i have bout 5 probably but now i only use one in the shower ad its this turqiouse bue color cause ya’ll if you got frizz or curls dont brush ya hair really at all just use ya fingers but also do it with conditioner and in the shower

2.) Name a food you never eat

freaking seafood eh blegh

3.) Are you usually too warm or too cold?

warm. all. the. time.

4.) What were you doing 45 minutes ago?

uhm swimming... no dinner and smelling disgusting seafood that made me wanna barf cause thsts whst my aunt/uncle and grandparents were making for dinner

5.) What’s your favorite candy bar?

oo idk uhm crunch noooo a flake bar they are from europe no like ireland i think so fucking good lemme tell you

6.) Have you ever been to a professional sports game?

yeah. Eagles, flyers, and phillies, and the reading phillies if you count them, oh and the 76ers and some college gsmes i think that is it

7.) What’s the last thing you said out loud?

nope i don’t want a smore

8.) What’s your favorite ice cream?

yall i got so many lemme get you on this shit. okay so ben and jerrys we talkin then its gottabe phish phood oj shit, but like all in al my fav is black raspberry tbh but also like i do keto so i do love me some coffee ice cream cause i can usually find that in “keto” ones. i like keto enlightened ice cream bars they are decent and low carb

9.) What was the last thing you had to drink?

crystal light or it may have been turkey hill diet green tea

10.) Do you like your wallet?

i mean yeah its a black michael kors it does it purpose lol, mostly i like it cause it has a lot of space for cards which like all my gift cards go there the only thing i don’t like is that the bitch gets hela heavy when coins get in it like jesus

11.) What’s the last thing you ate?

ham and cheese roll ups for diner cause they had fuckin seafood lol boutta be carots, but also wasn’t that hungry lol

12.) Did you buy any new clothes last weekend?

nope!

13.) What’s the last sporting event you watched?

i believe that it was UFC

14.) What is your favorite flavor of popcorn?

butter or white cheddar

15.) Who’s the last person you sent a text to?

my best friends so my friend from vegas and @wayward-river

16.) Ever go camping?

yep!

17.) Do you take vitamins?

i take a probiotic

18.) Do you go to church every Sunday?

nope

19.) Do you have a tan?

yupppp

20.) Do you prefer Chinese or pizza?

oooo uhm depends on what type of piza but ima say pizza... i have a cheese addiction

21.) Do you drink soda through a straw?

i don’t drink soda anymore

22.) What color socks do you usually wear?

vans socks in literally any color usually not black i try to get colored ones cause if i get the black i can never tell te old from the new unless they are like streched out or somethin

23.) Do you ever drive above the speed limit?

uhm yes lol. its my downfall but also like either go the speed limit or go 5 miles over do not go under becuase that is just not an option

24.) What terrifies you?

many things.

25.) Look to your left, what to you see?

flowers

26.) What chore do you hate the most?

vacuuming the sound drives me nuts. or no putting away laundry like hanging it up idk why i hate it but i do lik ill wash shit and fold it but actuly putting it way drives me nuts

27.) What do you think when you hear an Australian accent?

uhm hiiii but also adelaide idk why

28.) What’s your favorite soda?

dont drink it i drink ice drinks instead or the safeway brand sparkling water

29.) Do you go in fast food or in the drive through?

drive through

30.) What’s your favorite number?

24

31.) Who’s the last person you talked to?

in person? my little cousin

32.) Favorite cut of beef?

chicken just so many things can be done. chicken parm, grilled chicken, bbq chicken need i go on

33.) Last song you listened to?

welp i checked spotfy we were at the pool and it was me and my little cousin i was playing ehr playlist so it was did i mention from descendants hahah

34.) Last book you read?

oh god uhm i have no idea 

35.) Can you say the alphabet backwards?

no unless i go throguh the whole thing letter...... by.... letter

36.) Favorite day of the week?

thursday

37.) How do you like your coffee?

Iced with heavy cream i prefer cold brew or espresso tho, but usually cold brew

38.) Favorite pair of shoes?

Vans

39.) Time you normally wake up?

10- 10:30 sometimes 9

40.) Sunrise or sunsets?

sunsets

41.) How many blankets on your bed?

usually just my comforter sometimes my comforter and one or two otehrs dring the winter cause i like to be cold and keep my window open i keep my bedroom door closed and the heat in my room off

42.) Describe your kitchen plates?

i live with my aprents im still in college but when im at school rndoms hit that is cheap 

43.) Describe your kitchen at the moment?

tiny dorm kitchen or it will be first on campus apartment that looks like an insane asylum checkkkkkkk

44.) Do you have a favorite alcoholic drink?

i mean its not legal to sayyyyy

45.) Do you play cards?

yes omggggg my grandma s from the south i grew up on card games 500 rummy, oh hell too, i played poker with my grandpa to and 21

46.) What color is your car?

dark blue... kiki

47.) Can you change a tire?

yeppp!

48.) Your favorite state, province, country, etc.?

uhm idk i live in pennsylvania but I wouldn’t say i have a favorite state at least not yet

49.) Favorite job you’ve had?

I worked at this axe throwing place and honestly it was my favorite job i had. I was an axe master I basicaly taght people how to throw axes and like led mini games for hour long sessions it was hella fun, but my college scheldue and doctors appt got in the way so i got let go but it was fun while it lasted. or my own business i do photography on the side so that is also amazing and i absolutely love it and ned to do more of it.

50.) How did you get your biggest scar?

oh god i don’t even know.. i have huge scards from my chronic skin condition so either that orrrr maybe the scar on my leg it is not that big though like size of a nickel where a kick stand went into my leg, a lot of my scars are smaller or like blend into my skin fairly ell cause of my other scars or honestly i forget about them cause. i hae so many so i realy am not sure.

i tag @wayward-river @the-gargoyle-queen @whenallsaidanddone @riverdalebingo @theangriestpea @southsidevixen-blog

[thehighlandhealer]

Directions || Deirdre & Oliver

Oliver: The scent of cigarettes was mute for a man covered in the same stench, mixed with motor oil and dust. His Old Spice was no match unless pruned in the shower. Sometimes he wondered if Tristan Seger's vessel ever truly left his skin.

What caught his attention was a scent he did not recognize. Floral, almost cloying. He turned, passively curious for the source.

Deirdre: The source was standing a few feet away, having stopped to check something on her phone. Truth be told she looked more like farmhand than a tourist. Despite the warmth she was wearing boots and jeans and flannel. Honey blonde hair was gathered in a loose braid that fell nearly to her waist, with a few wisps of hair framing her face and a swoop of bangs covering one eye. She could feel his gaze, and watched him from her periphery.

Oliver: She was beautiful, but he was partial to blondes no matter the shade. As impolite to stare as it was, he had. He knew his gaze had traveled her for too long. He forced his attentions away, back towards the road. A passing favorable thought she would be as he headed home.

Three steps from the property, and he paused again. Perhaps one more look.

Deirdre: Deirdre could swear she felt his gaze wherever it lingered. She smiled to herself. Did that mean, she wondered, she was hyperaware of him or that he was simply staring that intensely?

She finally looked up as he started to walk away, thinking that she wouldn't get an answer to her question. At least until he stopped and turned again.

This time he'd be met with a serene, gently amused smile and gray-blue eyes looking back at him.

Oliver: Caught red-handed. He was not one to blush and duck his chin in shame. Rather, he smiled at her amusement. That would be his treat for the day, having made not one but two women smile.

He supposed he should return to purpose, though with the haste of a sloth.

Deirdre: Not so fast. I'm not quite done with you.

"Oi! Spare a moment?" she called to him in a thick Scottish accent.

Oliver: The foreign surprise caused a double-take. He began to pick his thumbnail.

"M'I in trouble?"

Deirdre: "Why, have ye done somethin' wrong?" Smiling, she slipped her phone into her pocket and walked over to him. "Might I trouble ye for directions?"

Oliver: "I dunno. M'a man, so probably." She seemed smaller the closer she approached. Confidence could make one two inches taller, but still, petite.

"Where ya needin' t'go?"

Deirdre: "Flower shop. Wild Rose of Arran. Ye know it?"

Oliver: "I - Yeah. It's a walk from here. Miles, I mean. My truck's outta commission, so..." What in god's name? "I mean, ain't ya got a GPS?"

Deirdre: "I do," she said, giving him a very obvious once over before heading in the direction of a black Jeep. "Come along, then."

Oliver: Oliver subconsciously straightened. "Just like that?" he called, frozen in place by skepticism.

Deirdre: "Ye waitin' for an engraved invitation?"

Oliver: "With real gold?" He began to follow behind. "I'mma fuck up the seat."

Deirdre: A light laugh floated back to him. "Don't worry yer head about the seat. That's what towels are for."

Oliver: I'm gonna be murdered by a farmgirl. Worse ways to die, he thought, climbing into the seat with one fluid movement.

"So, you're...British?"

Deirdre: "Highland Scot," Deirdre corrected, starting the Jeep and definitely pulling out of the lot faster than was strictly legal.

"Left, right, or dead ahead?"

Oliver: Not a quip on her driving skills. "Ahead for a mile or two. We'll take a left, then. So is there a difference?"

Deirdre: "There a difference between the States and Canada?"

Oliver: "There's a difference from California n'Jersey."

Deirdre: "But they're in the same country. Scotland and England are no'."

Oliver: "It's called Britain, right?"

Deirdre: "Technically."

Oliver: "So what's the big difference?"

Deirdre: "They're separate countries."

Oliver: "On one island. So I wanna know what makes the top different from the bottom."

Deirdre: "I once again point ye to the States and Canada. Similar language, similar customs, similar lookin' people even, but different countries. We never fell to the Romans."

Oliver: "On a giant continent I get. Ya can travel all of Europe in a weekend. Nothin' is a country if ya can travel it all in a day or two. Ya see games on TV from there n'it says United Kingdom on the shirts with all of it."

Deirdre: "Just like an American to disregard nuance," she said, the amused smile making a return.

Oliver: "Waitin' for ya t'open my door n'boot me out."

Deirdre: "Well now that would be rude."

Oliver: "You're in America. It's normal."

Deirdre: "Rudeness or tossin' men out o' movin' vehicles?"

Oliver: "Both?" he chuckled.

Deirdre: "Funny, don't remember readin' that in my 'Welcome to America' pamphlet."

Oliver: "What about fried Oreos?"

Deirdre: "A glorious step up from fried Mars bars."

Oliver: "Excuse me what?"

Deirdre: "What?"

Oliver: "A fried Mars bar?"

Deirdre: "Aye. Don't ye Americans fry Snickers?"

Oliver: "I ain't had a fried candy bar no."

Deirdre: “Don’t tell yer dentist if ye do.”

Oliver: "That somethin' ya wanna try? Fried Oreo?"

Deirdre: “That ship’s long gone.”

Oliver: "How come?"

Deirdre: “Because I’ve already had one. Several if we’re splittin’ hairs.”

Oliver: "What about a fried hot dog?"

Deirdre: “Hot dogs should be grilled. Full stop.”

Oliver: "Thank fuckin' god ya didn't say boiled."

Deirdre: “What do I look like, a barbarian?”

Oliver: "Not a barbarian."

Deirdre: She smiled. "Good to know. Left ye said?"

Oliver: "Oh. Yeah. Left after this stop sign. It'll be kinda obvious."

Deirdre: "That's all right then." But rather than turn left, she turned to face him. "Which way's yer house?"

Oliver: "Ya...wanna know where I live?"

Deirdre: "Ye said yer truck's broken down."

Oliver: "Yeah. I got legs for walkin'."

Deirdre: "Consider it a thank ye for showin' me to the shop."

Oliver: "It's outta the way. It's fine."

Deirdre: "I'll find my way back. I'm in no rush."

Oliver: "Well, I'll savor the company, then. Keep goin' this way."

Deirdre: Another smile and they were off again. Callum could certainly wait a few minutes longer. He didn't even know she was here yet.

"Lived here long?"

Oliver: "About a year n'some change. Needed a chance of scenery."

Deirdre: "Do ye like it?"

Oliver: "It's work. It's a place," he muttered.

Deirdre: "No' terribly attached then?"

Oliver: "Not really anywhere. I mean, I miss Tennessee, but it ain't home anymore."

Deirdre: "Sometimes home is where yer hat is. And there's nothin' wrong with that."

Oliver: "N'where's your hat?"

Deirdre: "Montana."

Oliver: "Not Scot-Britain?"

Deirdre: "No' Scotland, no. I moved to Montana to take over the family ranch when my sister moved to New Orleans."

Oliver: "At your age? Big boots on ya."

Deirdre: "I'm older than I look," she chuckled.

Oliver: "Twenty-two, maybe."

Deirdre: Deirdre laughed. "God bless ye and yer flattery."

Oliver: "Flattery is fake. I'm sayin' what I think."

Deirdre: "Motivations can be fake, flattery isn't. And for the record, ye're about ten years off."

Oliver: "I have no motivations. I'm a free man. You're not in your thirties."

Deirdre: "That brisk Scottish air does wonders for the complexion."

Oliver: "Sunblock too, I bet. Or wait, y'all don't get sun."

Deirdre: "No' as much as ye do here. It's so bloody hot in this country."

Oliver: "Try Maine if ya want mist."

Deirdre: "If I want mist I'll go back home. Either o' them. Plenty o' mist up in the mountains in Montana."

Oliver: "Not all dry plains? Right up here."

Deirdre: “A few plains, plenty o’ hills, and the mountains. Be right silly to name the place after a mountain if it were completely flat.”

Oliver: "Maybe I'm thinkin' of Utah when I think of mountains. Up there is all the same in my head. Left here."

Deirdre: "The Rockies join ev'rythin' together." She turned left. "Went from one highland to another."

Oliver: "Why, though? Why Montana at all?"

Deirdre: "Montana is where our family ranch is. My da's family's had it since before my sister and I were born."

Oliver: "Why not have a ranch in Scotland?"

Deirdre: "We do."

Oliver: He just turned to blink at her.

Deirdre: "What? Mark Twain said to buy land, they're no' makin' it anymore. My da's family took him at his word. As did my sister. The ranch is a few times bigger than it was when she took over."

Oliver: "What d'ya do on the ranch, then? Cattle? Sheep?"

Deirdre: "All sorts, though mostly cattle. Ever seen MacAllister Heritage Ranch in the meat and dairy section o' the market?"

Oliver: "I don't really look at names. Must be pretty big t'get all the way t'the east coast."

Deirdre: "People ev'rywhere are ravenous for organic food."

Oliver: "Soy lattes n' kale salads. No sugar and no carbs."

Deirdre: "We make cheese and sausage and cream and eggs, nothin' but carbs as far as the eye can see. Bloody good kale too."

Oliver: "I know how t'make cheese. Sausage, too."

Deirdre: "Grow up in the country?"

Oliver: "Nah. Bored in the military."

Deirdre: "If necessity is the mother of invention, boredom's its dear old da. Still make it now?"

Oliver: "Nah. I make the best beef ribs, though."

Deirdre: "Pop into the market and get some o' ours next time ye get a fancy for them."

Oliver: "MacAllister, huh?"

Deirdre: She nodded. "MacAllister Heritage Ranch."

Oliver: "...Would ya like some beef ribs? Maybe some corn bread t'go with it?"

Deirdre: There was that smile again, twitching at the corner of her mouth.

"Askin' me to dinner, are ye?"

Oliver: "Well," he cleared his throat, picked at his thumb again. "I'll wait on that 'til ya see my place. There, that sign on the left." The entrance to the trailer park hidden in the woods.

Deirdre: "Why, is it full o' corpses on meat hooks and severed human fingers?" she asked as she turned into the caravan park.

Oliver: "Just a loud dog trippin' on his ears, n'the smell of beer n'probably cigarettes. A door that don't wanna close all the way, n'neighbors with nothin' better t'do."

Deirdre: Deirdre's entire face lit up brighter than the morning sun. She didn't hear a thing after he'd said the magic word.

"Ye've a dog?"

Oliver: "Humphreys. My basset hound." His smile a subconscious response to her own.

Deirdre: "Is he lovely? How old is he?"

Oliver: "I guess a young man now. I don't think lovely describes it. My couch would disagree."

Deirdre: "All dogs are lovely. Like babies."

Oliver: "Ha. Right there...that one." She'd say her goodbyes now, if she had any sense, he assumed.

Someone across the park had neglected their grill, burning what would have been under-seasoned burgers. Not the worst smell to greet his nose, but still he made a face. Humphreys was impatient for release from his rectangular prison, howling for all he was worth at the sound of a door slam.

Deirdre: Deirdre parked the car and cut the engine, face lighting for a second time as she heard the howl from inside.

"Can I meet yer dog?"

Oliver: "Ya ain't an axe murderer, out for money? I'll disappoint ya t'no end."

Deirdre: "I'm lousy with land and cattle, yer money's quite safe from me. And I left my axe at home," she added with a grin.

Oliver: "Lousy with land? Gotta explain that one t'me." The dented aluminum door was unlocked. A black, tan, and white basset hound blew past to freedom, crashing at Deirdre's feet. Time to investigate.

"Humphreys!"

Deirdre: "The cattle and the sheep and the fields take up an awful lot o' space in Montana." A rather large chunk of the state, as a matter of fact.

But what importance was that when a floppy-eared bundle of fur was barreling toward her like a bat out of hell?

Deirdre gave a small cry of delight, crouching down to Humphreys' level. "Oh look at ye, lovey! Pretty as a new penny and handsomer than sin, ye are! Hi! Hi, puppy!" She offered her hands for him to sniff.

Oliver: The ungentlemanly hound leapt to her thigh, sniffing her jeans, hand, and what hair he could reach. Floral, and yet stunk like his father. Satisfactory. He wanted pettings, and leaned his dense weight against her. Another howl to announce his findings for a very irritated Oliver.

"Just push him off. Ya can't hurt him."

Deirdre: Pushing Humphreys off was the absolute farthest thing from Deirdre's mind. She was already giving him a hearty squeeze, scratching his ears and his back and his belly and beneath his chin in between showers of compliments.

Oliver: "So that's the way t'a woman's heart, huh? It's that easy."

Deirdre: "The way to a man's is food." She smiled up at him. "The way to a woman's is a friendly animal."

Oliver: "So what d'ya have in Montana, then?"

Deirdre: "Two collies, a deerhound, and three cats."

Oliver: "How many were gifts?"

Deirdre: "One o' the cats just sort of appeared one day. The deerhound and the other two cats were already there when I took over. I adopted the two collies to give Gary a hand with the herdin'."

Oliver: A cigarette was lit while she recounted. He didn't mind.

"Humphreys, bathroom."

The dog finally released her, disappearing behind the house to relieve himself.

"Ya...want a beer? Soda? ... Water?"

Deirdre: "My sister would keel haul me if I had a beer before I was about to drive. I'll accept some water though."

Oliver: "Want it out here?" The house was the usual mess, something he cared little about until that very moment. Just a little.

Deirdre: “Out here’s fine. It’ll give the laddie some time to get some fresh air.”

Oliver: "The door's always open anyway." Though the same could not be said for his bedroom, with an additional padlock. Since the front door gave so much trouble, and he could swear he was beginning to sleepwalk almost every week...

He retreated for a bottle of water. Humphreys returned for more attention.

Deirdre: He'd be able to hear a fresh round of enthusiastic delight as Humphreys returned and the petting resumed.

Her estimation of her admirer could've risen from the depths of hell purely on the shoulders of his dog. When he came back out he'd find her happily sitting on the ground with Humphreys in her lap, squishing his little face to hers as she scratched his ears.

Oliver: "That scares the shit outta me," he said, offering the bottle of water, having to dodge Humphreys curious nose.

Deirdre: "What does?" Deirdre asked, taking the water.

Oliver: "Puttin' an animal’s face near mine."

Deirdre: She laughed. "I think ye'll find that they're cleaner than we are. Besides, I've had far worse things on my face than a wee pup."

Oliver: "Nah. It ain't that. I was bitten by a dog when I was a kid. It stuck with me."

Deirdre: "Poor thing. I'd dare say ye've made progress though. Ye brought this wee fella into yer life."

Oliver: "Yeah, but he don't come near my face. He knows better. See here?" He stepped closer and knelt, pointing to a small scar on the outskirt of his facial hair.

Deirdre: Without thinking, she lifted a hand to his face and turned it to get a better look. "That was the dog that bit ye when ye were little?"

Oliver: His skin was as warm as it was deep, tanned by years forgetful of sunblock. Destined to be a leathery old man. His muscles tensed instinctively. Exhaled through his nose. Shoulders fell. He wasn't always on such edge. A recent phenomenon.

"A dalmatian. I don't remember it clearly, but I just don't like em near me like that."

Deirdre: "Dalmatians have the lion's share of energy, especially if they're no' trained properly. Don't blame ye for bein' cautious."

Oliver: "Ya know everything 'bout everything, huh?"

Deirdre: "Enough to retain what Animal Planet teaches me, at least."

Oliver: "Huh." He tossed the butt of his cigarette away. The pack was brought from his back pocket and offered, half squished.

Deirdre: She shook her head. "Thanks anyway. There's a program about dog breeds and another about cat breeds. Good for when ye want somethin' mindless and light."

Oliver: "I just watch the races, n'the history channel. For some reason they got shit on old cars n'woodshop."

Deirdre: "Seems like they're broadenin' what constitutes history. And animals."

Oliver: He watched her for a minute. The excuse was in her lap, but hardly noticed. He needed a fresh cigarette.

"M'keepin' ya from the flower shop."

Deirdre: "It's no bother, I'm no' expected."

Oliver: "Just wantin' some roses?"

Deirdre: “Decided to surprise my cousin. He’s the owner.”

Oliver: "Oh that - I shoulda figured. Don't hear much of that accent around."

Deirdre: "Do ye know him, then? Callum?"

Oliver: "Just a face I see around. I ain't ever gone in there."

Deirdre: “Never had need o’ roses?”

Oliver: "Ain't had a woman that wanted one."

Deirdre: “I take it ye’re no’ the type to buy flowers for yer sittin’ room?”

Oliver: Inadvertently he locked eyes and shook his head.

Deirdre: "Well, he's there if ye ever have need," she said softly, smiling at him before turning to Humphreys. "Or just bring this wee one with ye wherever ye go. Ye'll surge in popularity."

Oliver: "Ain't really somethin' I strive for." He turned his head to keep the smoke from her face. "Anyway, I gotta clean up n'get somethin' t'eat."

Deirdre: “Of course, I’ll leave ye to it. Bye, lovey.” She gave Humphreys a kiss on his forehead and got to her feet. “Thanks for the directions and for lettin’ me love on Humphreys.”

Oliver: "He appreciates it, I bet." He placed his cigarette on the awkward steps and turned. "Know your way back?"

Deirdre: “Aye, I can manage. All the lefts are rights now, only real difference.”

Oliver: "Yeah." His smile and half-hearted laugh were for her benefit. An excuse to see her smile, perhaps? Damn stupid.

Deirdre: Excuse or not, he was still given a smile as Deirdre got in the Jeep.

She rolled down the window. “Blush.”

Oliver: "Wh-What?" The wrinkles around his eyes faded with his confused look.

Deirdre: “I like blush roses.” Deirdre’s smile became a full grin. “For when ye ask me to dinner.”

Oliver: Oh. But she'd seen his decrepit excuse for a house. He'd casually insulted her so-called country. He had been himself, and yet her smile was as though he had been the utmost gentleman.

"How m'I supposed t'find ya?"

Deirdre: “I’ll find ye. I know where ye live.”

Oliver: "That don't sound horrific at all," he smiled.

Deirdre: “Told ye I left my axe at home,” she said, starting the car and giving him one last smile before she drove away.

Oliver: Humphreys bellowed his farewell and was shooed into the house. The cigarette was stamped out. The smile remained stuck to his face until he hit the shower.

#Directions chapter #deirdremacallister #olivercole

[lgbt-ffxv-imagines]

Gladio finds out abt Prom’s unhealthy weightloss routine and /kicks his ass/

It starts with one less thing for dinner. No fries, swapping out his soda for a tall glass of water. He skips out on calorie counting for a while. 

Prompto starts running a week in. He looks up tutorials, instructions on how to lose weight and exercise consistently. His lungs burn nearly worse than his body does the morning after. 

He takes “progress pictures,” glaring down at himself like he’s something other instead of just a kid who enjoys a good burger more than an apple. He wants to burn the photos so badly that he starts counting calories to see how far he has to go.

Really, he’s not doing too badly for himself, Prompto finds. He changes his usual foods to things with lower calorie counts, usually more fruits and vegetables than processed fast food, in pursuit of a thinner appearance. He’s still hungry, though, and the burger place he passes on his way home taunts him. 

He decides a five hundred calorie deficit isn’t enough. 

There’s nothing wrong with eating things with lower amounts of fat, skipping simple carbs like bread and replacing them with veggies clumsily chopped and tossed together into a bowl in a basic imitation of a salad. He’s read up on weight loss forums and watched videos about HIIT exercise routines that claim to help him “blast fat away” like magic. 

By the time he’s finished secondary school, he’s shot up like a rocket and thinned out like its vapor trail. 

He’s down to around a thousand two hundred calories a day, weight landing somewhere around maybe fifty-five kilograms on when he gives in and eats more than he should. The running helps him keep to it even when he lacks control (when he’s being fat, his brain likes to spit. Not worth talking to the Lady Lunafreya’s Noctis).

It’s honestly funny to him when Noctis asks him why he doesn’t eat more at lunch (half a salad and a boiled egg are plenty, thank you very much) when he’s already coasting far over his limit more and more often when they hit the arcade, or hang out after class. The chips and pizza are cluttering his tracking app with fat and failure. 

He starts making excuses, runs longer distances, spends so much time exercising and ignoring how easy it would be to grab the cereal his mom always picks up when they go grocery shopping and pour himself a big bowl of it that he’s nearly able to eke his way down to fifty even. 

Noctis just puts all his vegetables on Prompto’s napkin during lunch and raises a brow whenever he tries to insist that no, I’m full, okay, buddy? He knows not to press it after Prompto makes an excuse or two about stomach aches.

Meeting Noctis’s shield is like staring at the human equivalent to a chiseled brick wall. Gladiolus Amicitia is a powerhouse Prompto is exactly one hundred percent sure could snap him in half like a twig. He’s decently sure Gladio could wrap both his hands around his waist without issue. It’s about as comforting as it is distressing. There is absolutely nothing Gladiolus couldn’t do to keep him from Noctis if the prince ever got tired of him. 

He tries even harder to be worthy. 

There are a few long months where he sleeps in too much and feels like there’s cotton stuffed in his head, but then Gladiolus snaps him out of it with a stern, “And what do you think you’re doing there, Prom?”

He looks back to his water bottle and tries for an excuse, “Hydrating?”

“After an hour and a half of intensive Crownsguard training?”

“Yep,” he says, trying for a smile. “Can’t let that pizza from yesterday keep me from being a good member of Noct’s ‘Guard, right?”

Gladiolus frowns. “You had half a bite.” He crosses his arms and waits for some sort of explanation. 

Prompto flounders before pulling his usual, “Well, I’m not really supposed to be eating it. It gives me stomachaches.”

It’s not quite a lie. The guilt makes him ill, sometimes enough he feels he may lose what little food he’s consumed, and he knows he’s supposed to be better than that─to be better than his want need for food.

His parents are good to him, if super busy, and they’d asked him if he was alright. They’d made sure he had lots of things left around the house he can snack on out of worry that maybe there wasn’t enough in the pantry for him to eat quickly while doing schoolwork. He’d found a way to foist the worst of them onto Noctis instead. 

Gladiolus stares him down not unlike the way his mom had, unimpressed and worried. “Then, what can you eat? If it’s a stomach issue, or an intolerance, Iggy needs to know.”

“It’s not that it’s just-y’know how Noct told you that we’ve gone to school together since forever?”

“Yeah and?”

Prompto sighs, tired and very much aware of how badly he’s been doing in university as of late, and admits, “I used to be fat.” He spits it like poison. Gladiolus just shrugs. 

“And?”

“What do you mean ‘and?’“

He sits down next to prompto on the metal locker room bench and comments, “We know. Background checks and all that tend to unearth that sort of stuff.”

Prompto groans like he’s dying and flops backward to lean on the wall. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Nope,” Gladiolus replies, smiling genially. “You know I used to be a beanpole?”

Prompto sputters, half to delirium because they’ve known for years and never said anything about it. “I can't believe that. No way. Gladiolus Amicitia, the Citadel’s beefiest Shield to date, was a skinny kid.”

“I ate like hell and never gained an ounce,” Gladiolus admits. “It was really frustrating when I was trying to bulk up because puberty tossed my metabolism even further into overdrive. I tried following a lot of diets and tutorials, y’know. Only succeeded in making myself really fuckin’ sick. You’re doing practically the same thing I did, so I’m gonna stop you right here.”

“You were the opposite-”

Gladiolus silences him with a wholly unimpressed look. “We both made some bad decisions. The problem here is that you’re still making them,” he states, running a hand through his hair. “None of us want to see you land yourself in the hospital, Prom. Especially not for something we can prevent.”

“But what about Noct? I mean, why does he hang out with me if he knows I was...like that,”  Prompto asks. 

“Like what? A normal kid?” Gladio raises a brow. “I thought you knew Noct doesn’t care about appearances. He’s made that abundantly clear, blondie.”

Prompto struggles for words, settling on a mumbled, “But what do I do now?”

Gladiolus takes a minute and mulls it over before answering brightly, “Well, I’m sure Ignis wouldn’t mind helping you figure out a nutritional plan. We need you to be in top form if you’re gonna protect Noct. That includes eating properly.”

“Would that really be okay?” Prompto’s brain says it’s not, that once he starts to gain anything back that they’ll find him disgusting. He decides that, for once, he’ll ignore it in full. He gives a tentative and lopsided smile. 

Gladiolus grins and it’s near blindingly bright. “Hell yeah it is, Prom. C’mon, I’m sure Ignis was already counting on you joining us for dinner. I doubt his highness has even started on his trig homework without you there to help him through it.”

“Okay. I’ll...do my best.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Gladiolus says with a pat to the back. “You’re one hell of a man, y’know that?”

Prompto squawks, trying to deflect the compliment only to get slammed with fifteen others and a well meaning ruffle to his already wild hair. 

This can work, he thinks. If Noct would be okay with him being heavier, if Gladio and Ignis won’t poke fun at him over it, he thinks he’ll be able to at least give it a try. 

That night, after a good dinner and hours of even better company, Prompto is pretty sure that the guilt may never leave, that he may never be free of the toxicity he’s built into himself, but the way Noct hoots and hollers at the video games they play is a good enough distraction as any. He lets himself forget about calories and counting and deficits until the morning when Ignis stops by and tells Noctis that no, he cannot drink a whole liter of chocolate milk for breakfast. 

Then, it’s just funny how the Crown Prince of Lucis is cowed by his own advisor’s lecture about proper nutrition all the while wearing half a milk mustache he’s still too sleepy to wipe off in full. 

#ffxv imagines #lgbt ffxv #lgbt ffxv imagines #ffxv #final fantasy xv #prompto argentum #gladiolus amicitia #weight loss #eating disorder tw #self harm tw #angst #sfw #anon #mun kiri #internalized fatphobia

[flyingmustachio]

I just want a website that focuses on good, nutritious recipes without the assumed fear of gaining weight or being “unhealthy” or “bad.” I don’t want recipes that try to recreate “bad” foods with “healthy” alternatives. I don’t want “just-as-good-as-the-real-thing” pseudo mac and cheese with those weird no carb slimy mushroom noodles and eggs and weird shit in it to make it  sort of the right texture. Show me a recipe where the weird noodles are the feature and the ingredients play to the noodles’ strengths as a food. I don’t want “chickpea salad that you will barely notice isn’t chicken.” I want “HOLY FUCK GUYS EAT THIS CHICKPEA SALAD BECAUSE IT IS DELICIOUS!! What? Why are you bringing chickens into this? No it’s not a version of a chicken salad, it’s chickpea salad because chickpeas are delicious!” Like doctors and dieticians wonder why people shy away from a lot of nutritious ingredients, when all the while they’re trying to shoehorn them into dishes where they really don’t belong to try to convince people to eat them, when instead they could be saying like “Here are some fucking scrumptious new dishes to add into your diet. Your body will be happy with this quality fuel and your tastebuds will be happy to eat it.” Like, food is a really basic human need and taste is a very visceral sense. It’s absurd to expect people to choose what they eat for nutrition alone and completely ignore taste and joy. The solution isn’t to try to gaslight people into pretending they like food they don’t or pretending bad recipes taste better than they do, and then implying they’re of poor moral character when they eat “badly” more than they should. The solution is to make a variety of tasty, simple, satisfying meals made of nutritious ingredients the norm. It’s a bit absurd to expect people to keep high calorie/ low nutritional value foods relegated to “once in a while treats” when the foods they eat the rest of the time taste disappointing, and don’t keep them full. But if instead of “boring salad,” “chickpeas trying to pass as chicken,” “boring salad,” “MAC AND CHEESE BUT ONLY ON FRIDAYS!” people’s nutrition programs looked like “HOLY SHIT VEGETABLE STIR FRY I FKN LOVE BEAN SPROUTS,” “OMG SALMON NIGHT I LOVE IT” “GODDAMN THIS WEIRD NOODLE IS SUPER GREAT IN THIS RECIPE,” “FUCKIN MAC AND CHEESE WITH THE CRUNCHIES ON TOP!” I mean it’s easy to keep nutritionally crap, excessive calorie foods as once in a while treats when you’re genuinely excited to eat the nutritionally rich, calorie reasonable foods the rest of the time. Like I mean goddamn. Everybody talks all the time about how healthy Japanese food is and how one of the reasons they have so few obese people is the abundance of fast, healthy foods, but I really think the more important point people are forgetting is that in Japanese cooking  THE HEALTHY FOODS ARE AS DELICIOUS OR MORE DELICIOUS THAN THE LESS HEALTHY FOODS. I mean fuck, put some American, overcooked, nasty, boogery, flavorless green beans in front of a kid or some crisp, flavorful Japanese tempura vegetables and see which one they freaking pick.  We’re a particularly intelligent species of ape who got as far as we have by evolving to prefer foods with a certain flavor profile. Eating, hunger, flavor, it’s all beyond logic, it’s also instinctual. It’s kind of absurd to pretend that we should just... ignore taste, instead of finding a way to work with our bodies and our unique preferences that also takes into account our energy needs according to our energy output. It’s absurd that instead of being taught to like, listen to what our bodies want and need and eat when we’re hungry and stop when we’re full, we’re taught to just ignore our bodies more and more and do a bunch of math calculations for every single meal to see what we’re “allowed” to eat and only eat until this time and this far apart and it doesn’t matter if you like the food and it doesn’t matter if you’re not hungry yet or if the food doesn’t fill you up. None of this is normal or mentally healthy. It isn’t a moral failing to want to eat foods that taste good to you. Same with exercise. Unless you are in physical therapy for a specific issue that needs to be fixed, why the fuck should you be expected to just... move in ways that are boring and not fun or are even painful for you for hours and hours per week? That’s absurd. We know that movement and physical activity are necessary for a healthy body but GUESS WHAT? PEOPLE MOVE VOLUNTARILY AND GLADLY WHEN THEY DO SO IN A WAY THAT IS FUN OR FEELS GOOD! We should not encouraging people to “go to the gym 5 times per week even if you don’t like it at all and it doesn’t fulfill you and you feel super awkward and sad the whole time, because you have to to be healthy. We should be encouraging people to  MOVE YOUR BODY BECAUSE IT’S FUCKIN’ RAD AND IT’S GOOD FOR YOU AND IT FEELS GREAT!! YOU LIKE THE GYM? GREAT!! YOU HATE THE GYM? THAT’S FINE, THERE ARE SO MANY FUCKIN’ GREAT THINGS OUT THERE YOU WILL LIKE! MAYBE YOU’RE A SPORTS PERSON!! Like for me, I absolutely loathe the gym or sports or anything that feels timed or restricted, but I FUCKIN’ LOVE hiking and kayaking and sauntering around the neighborhood, and like, that’s just as valid! Like goddamn, valuing pleasure is not morally wrong, and health and movement and good nutrition don’t have to look just one way. But if people are only exposed to “healthy” foods or modes of exercise that they loathe, they won’t stick to them. Instead of putting them down about it, expose them and give them easy access to a larger variety of healthy foods and ways of movement, so everybody can find something they actually genuinely like. We seem to romanticize toil and masochism in pursuit of a goal in this country to a very unhealthy degree. We treat life itself like the pursuit of a goal, and we give up so many small pleasures to get to the goals we think we want but life isn’t a goal, it’s not linear. Like, sprinting is really hard on your body. Sometimes you have to sprint, and you have to ignore pleasure and emotional needs in order to survive, but nobody can sprint forever. Your body can’t safely do it. You can’t ignore happiness and pleasure and fulfillment indefinitely in pursuit of some undefined health goal. You will hurt your sense of self and your mental health just as much as sprinting for days would damage your knees and your lungs. Stop pretending sprinting through life is normal or healthy.

#ok wow that was long #intuitive eating #thinness is not health #mental health is as important as physical health #they are intertwined #helping one will help the other #hurting your mental health to help your physical health is not good or reasonable or sustainable

[athenry33]

Been stupidly horny since I been on this new diet somewhat, for a couple weeks. Even by my standards. So hopefully I deleted that shit before you read it. Woke up and thought wtf who talks about basically a stranger now like that. But I want to give you advice for diet. Don't ask me why, I just like trying to help you from a distance I guess. There are people online that are probably much more knowledgeable than me, but the most basic way to put it is: eat 2 meals a day no more than 6 hours apart, or 1 meal a day. Make it like 70% fat, 25% protein, and 5% carbs. Basically cut anything that isn't a vegetable carb out, because it's in fucking everything so you'll get it from somewhere no matter how hard you try sometimes. You don't want to consume a ton of protein because excess gets turned into basically carbs. I got a sweet tooth and after a few days I had zero sugar cravings. You'll lose a lot of water weight at the beginning, which feels pretty good. But I mean to begin with you can just start going through all the carbs in your pantry and eat through them and start picking up high fat, low carb stuff from the grocery store to figure out stuff to cook with it. Rather than throwing out the pantry and trying to figure out an entirely new diet all at once. Big thing about high fat diet is you wont really want to eat more than once or twice a day. So fasting for 18 hours won't be difficult once you've adapted to it. The idea behind it is becoming adapted to using fat as fuel, rather than carbs. Carbs make you insulin resistant over a long long time of eating it. Main cause of all ailments today. Cascade of issues with all the processed shite that's in almost everything. And it's good to learn about high omega-3 fats. Modern diet is hugely over burdened on omega-6s. Olive oil and coconut oil are really some of the only good oils. Vegetable oil, canola oil, all seed oils are basically poison. Avoid sugar and fructose like the plague. A lot of substitutes act the same in the body to a lesser extent. Get stevia in a squirt bottle or monk fruit if you want sweetener. "Bullet proof coffee" is the shit, be careful with the mct oil though because it will give you the shits 😂. If you do too much. Mct oil is like crack head juice or something to me. Gives me a ton of energy. I get coconut cream from the Asian section in the can and put that in my coffee too. Shits good. I scoop it into an ice tray and make coconut cream ice cubes to toss into my coffee for creamer. You'll honestly probably notice a lot of allergies go away or at least reduce if you cut out a lot of stuff from what you eat. Too many people try to add stuff in their diet or pills/supplements to feel better or fix something, but they really just need to take stuff out. If you're able to stick with the diet, you'll find that you crave fatty foods, butter, cheese, a fat steak, and wont really want carb heavy food. And while you will lose a lot of weight being on this diet and fasting for 16-24 hours a day, that's not really the point. Just a bonus of being fat adapted. It's just a healthier way to live. Of course once your solidly in the diet you can load up on a carb heavy meal to get your pasta fix on a Saturday or something, but you have to be strict about it after. I got carried away eating crumbl cookie and pasta and mess last weekend and binged on carbs for a few days. Didn't feel spectacular and slept like all fuckin day lol. But I guess the best way to start is to research some basic stuff for the diet and pick it up and just build up your recipe book.

[saycheese-louise]

Your Friendly Neighbourhood Vegan - Mental Health

I’ve been really unwell, and not sure how to talk about it. So in writing my thoughts down in my new email newsletter, I finally found the words. I wanted to share them here. I hope you enjoy them.

Trigger warning - disordered eating

I tweeted last week about trying some new fake meat I found at the supermarket, and someone replied asking if “that stuff [is] any good for you”. It was a really difficult question for me to answer, and I’m not sure if I did a good job of it.

Something I’ve been coming to terms with for a few months is just how disordered my own eating is. When I’m in a bad place; when I am stressed, triggered by past trauma, when I’m tired, when I’m hungry, it’s very easy to listen to the voice in my head which says I’m not good enough, I don’t deserve to eat anything, I should feel this bad about myself, I should feel hungry. Even when I can fight off those worst thoughts, I still have to battle with them, disguised as concern about how “healthily” I’m eating.

Those “you don’t deserve to eat” thoughts turn into “you shouldn’t eat this unless it has no carbs and no processed foods and made it all myself from locally grown ingredients and with no sugar and at least four servings of vegetables…” My brain hasn’t been a fun place to be, especially not when living off Studylink doesn’t exactly give me much for groceries each week anyway. That stress often makes my body thinks it should keep more fat, which means my clothes don’t fit like they used to. Then add in fatigue, which I get a lot from anxiety, which makes me not have much energy to cook, and weighing up any takeout options against those ridiculous “health” criteria, and then it feels like it’s easier (and cheaper) to just not eat at all. Then I’m back at those worst thoughts again.

When I’m not in these incredibly toxic cycles, I keep a handful of Pyrony pies in the freezer, which I can shove in the oven for 20 minutes and they’re done. My go-to easy meal is nachoes with a tin of baked beans and Angel Food cheese (and anything else interesting I find in the cupboard if I am up to it). Neither of these are particularly “healthy” - being filled with carbs and processed foods and only one or maybe two servings of vegetables.

But sometimes the best food for you is just whatever you can afford, whatever you have the energy to make, whatever you know you’ll find some small amount of joy in, even if it doesn’t adhere to some ridiculous, unobtainable criteria. Because eating anything is better than eating nothing, which I found out the hard way.

Three months of only eating one, maybe two meals a day meant I had low iron, making me even more tired, and made my doctors really concerned when I almost fainted after a two-week long period (I potentially have polycystic ovaries, which makes my body also not a fun time to be in). Thankfully, I’m not anaemic but still have some iron tablets to take every day, and I’m slowly becoming less fatigued as I recover from this self-inflicted neglect.

If I want to finish my studies and not need Studylink, if I want to thrive and be proud of the work and projects I do, then I need to eat. Eat pies, eat beans and corn chips, eat BurgerFuel, eat frozen hash browns; eat things which give me joy and contribute to good mental health. Things which I can use to get out there and get shit done, and not be at home, crying and having panic attacks, doubled over with hunger and sadness. Then I’ll have more energy to cook fresh fruit and vegetables (which I do also love very much), and also money to buy them with.

(It also means not trying to be a perfect vegan too, but that’s a discussion for another newsletter).

To quote Beth McColl;

Those fuckin clean-eating ghouls selling the idea that it’s healthiest to be hyper aware & judgemental of every morsel of food we ingest as tho this is mindfulness & wellness rather than disorder. the unlearning of this thinking is excruciating today.

Counting calories, obsessing over not eating enough salad, telling myself I don’t deserve to enjoy my food because it should be “healthier” isn’t actually healthy for me.

The newsletter also has super easy New Zealand based vegan recipes for people interested in eating less animal products, and if you’d like to join the newsletter, you can subscribe here.

#mental health

[24hourchampagnediet-blog1]

How to Drink Alcohol on Keto

New Post has been published on https://bestrawfoodrecipes.com/how-to-drink-alcohol-on-keto/

How to Drink Alcohol on Keto

How do you know someone is on a ketogenic diet? Because they won’t quit talking about it. Especially if they’re shit-faced. Welcome to KetoDrunk, a Reddit community that currently counts over 28,000 members. Its motto: “Getting hammered while getting thin.” In this strange niche of the internet, the strictest dieters of us all try to thwart their silly, self-imposed regimens in the pursuit of a decent drink. KetoDrunk is the place where their truly hilarious hacks for low-carb mixology are tried, tested, and championed.

“I think most people drink in general, and some people find it hard to give up that last indulgence, as they have already given up so many hedonistic pleasures from their unhealthier lifestyles before,” says Daniel Wiseman, the group’s founder. He started KetoDrunk in 2013, just as the nearly century-old, high fat, very-low-carb diet was again becoming trendy. These new adopters of keto were questioning what they were actually allowed to imbibe, and Wiseman hoped to help them.

“You decided you want washboard abs and SWEET GAINS but also want to get crunk,” he wrote in his welcome message to the group. “Are these goals mutually exclusive?”

If you know anything about keto, you know followers are supposed to eschew carbs. If you know anything about alcohol, you’ve probably noticed it’s completely packed with carbs—malty beers, fruity wines, and all those $15 cocktails loaded with juices and syrups and sometimes straight scoops of granulated sugar. As Wiseman explains, however, it’s pretty simple for him to drink while sticking to his diet, assuming you understand the lingo: “A ketogenic diet is one that puts you into a state of ketosis, and most people find that alcohol does not inhibit ketone production,” he says. (In plain English: So long as he doesn’t drink any carbs that would kick him out of the metabolic state of ketosis, he’s cool.)

Kahlúa won’t work for a keto-friendly White Russian. But sugar-free coffee syrup will.

Esquire

Wiseman drinks straight whiskey, which he prefers neat, favoring brands like Booker’s and Four Roses Single Barrel. Even though whiskey is made from grains, once you distill a spirit it becomes 100-percent carb-free. Any unflavored spirit (gin, vodka, tequila, etc.) works for KetoDrunk, though be careful of rum, a poorly regulated category notorious for being secretly dosed with sugar. As with any diet, cognitive dissonance is also helpful.

“I believe the reason [Captain Morgan] has a sweet taste to it is because of the hydrocarbons released during the barrel aging,” said one commenter who really wanted to drink the spiced rum in peace.

For most people, pounding tequila shots is not an enjoyable way to spend a Saturday night. That’s why Wiseman also maintains a lengthy line of bitters bottles at home, allowing him to splash some of the carb-free ingredient into his whiskey to manipulate flavor, something he also does with MiO, a water enhancer offered in flavors like berry pomegranate and mango peach. Not that he usually needs it.

“[M]any people will find that their taste buds become more sensitive to the sweetness naturally found in alcohols and the addition of any sweet component is unnecessary,” he wrote on the subreddit.

“Some people find it hard to give up that last indulgence, as they have already given up so many hedonistic pleasures from their unhealthier lifestyles before.”

Other KetoDrunk practitioners are more adventurous, often looking for acceptable analogs to iconic cocktails. The biggest problem for keto mixology is that most of these necessitate a sweetener like simple syrup. Unfortunately, simple syrup—a 1-to-1 blend of sugar and water—has around 28 grams of carbs per ounce, which is more than most keto dieters aim to consume in an entire day.

“My coworkers and I are probably going out to drinks later in the week at a really fancy, upscale cocktail place downtown,” one commenter fretted. “Would it be super weird to order those cocktails that include sugar…without sugar? I can bring along some of my own Stevia too if I find I need it.”

The group is always looking for sugar-free cocktail sweeteners, utilizing ones you’ve heard of like Stevia and Splenda, and ones you probably haven’t, like allulose, erythritol, and something called Swerve to make their own faux simple syrups. (These can have a thin mouthfeel, so some followers add egg whites for extra body—which gives you protein to boot!) There are some store-brand options like NuNaturals and Simply Simple Sugar Free Simple Syrup, but you really have to read the labels; though they may be listed as “sugar-free,” Wiseman warns that some have “carbohydrate-laden ingredients such as maltodextrin,” and that’s no good.

While certain cocktails like, say, the Manhattan are nearly impossible to make keto-friendly—there’s no good substitute for sweet vermouth—others are a cinch. Easy highballs like G&Ts and Moscow Mules are popular; just use diet tonic or ginger beer, natch. So are Whiskey Sours and Margaritas, so long as you make them with sugar-free triple sec. Since calories from fat are actually desirable on a ketogenic diet, you can have a “Keto Colada” made with coconut vodka, heavy whipping cream, and pineapple seltzer. Even better, a 1,000-calorie Mudslide made with vodka, Ketologie chocolate shake mix, erythritol, almond milk, and heavy cream. “Jesus. That’s ridiculous,” as one commenter said.

Grenadine is packed with carbs, but you can make an alternative with Diet Ocean Spray.

Esquire

The White Russian seems to be the unofficial cocktail of KetoDrunk, with members constantly attempting their take on The Dude’s favorite drink—it’s quite easy to make delicious. A typical go might use sugar-free coffee syrup, nut milk, heavy cream, and vodka. (The verdict: “fuckin great!”) An advanced attempt opts for a butter- and chocolate chip-infused vodka shaken with heavy cream and homemade coffee liqueur, with pink Himalayan salt on the rim for added electrolytes. Despite all that effort to get loaded, one unimpressed Reddit commenter could only reply: “Help me understand if I’m wrong, but [a chocolate chip] uses soy lecithin and I thought that isn’t good for keto.”

Yes, a constant trope on KetoDrunk is that even when you’re buzzed and feeling good, you can still be a pedant—as big a hallmark of following this diet as subbing in a side salad instead of french fries. KetoDrunk is likewise surely the only drinking forum on the internet that has deep arguments about things like “gluconeogenesis” and “autophagy.” (Don’t ask.)

The group has even spawned its own cocktail book: Ke-Tiki: The Keto & Low-Carb Guide to Tiki Drinks by Jason Gawron, an Atlanta-area man and formerly overweight tiki enthusiast. Tiki drinks are notoriously some of the most keto-unfriendly cocktails around, laden with sugars, syrups, and fruit juices—as in, “the majority of ingredients found in the tiki drinks I had come to love,” Gawron writes in the book’s intro. Remarkably, he figured out how to make keto-kind versions of everything from the Mai Tai to the Fog Cutter to the typically sugar-packed Zombie, for which he swaps in crystalized citrus powder instead of lime juice and makes a grenadine using Diet Ocean Spray Cran-Pomegranate juice.

No, ke-tiki cocktails don’t taste as good as legit tiki. “But the way I see it, close enough is better than no tiki at all,” Gowran tells me.

Of course, when you’re attempting KetoDrunk, you will have to go without some things you used to love. Many in the group lament the lack of a truly tasty low-carb beer, forced to drink the watery Michelob Ultra. Many instead opt for low-carb alcoholic seltzer or Nude (essentially a vodka soda) when they desire a canned crusher.

“The way I see it, close enough is better than no tiki at all.”

But you can honestly drink anything on KetoDrunk, so long as your body remains in ketosis. Ketosis means that, due to a lack of carb-created glucose, your body instead burns stored fat, which creates an elevated level of acids in your system called ketones. Gawron monitors his ketone levels by bringing testing strips out to the bar, which he urinates on to make sure what he’s drinking hasn’t “knocked him out” of ketosis. Some KetoDrunk enthusiasts don’t find the strips reliable enough, however (and yeah, you might not want to be peeing toward your hand while buzzed). Wiseman simply pricks his blood in the morning to see if enough ketones are present. “Anyone completely altering their metabolism and still consuming alcohol needs to be aware that things change,” he says.

So, exactly how drunk do people get on KetoDrunk? There seem to be two vastly divergent camps. You would expect that, lacking a solid base of bread in the belly, many keto drinkers would immediately become lightweights—“zero to absolutely trashed,” as one commenter said. And some do.

Beer is often high in carbs, so some opt for spiked seltzer to get KetoDrunk.

Esquire

“The other pattern is that people will achieve a sort of plateau of inebriation where two drinks and seven drinks feel the exact same, but that eighth drink just lays them down like a sucker punch,” says Wiseman. He theorizes that the neuroprotective effects of deep ketosis, which studies have found to reduce seizures in children and Alzheimer’s in old people, may also “work” for preventing the feeling of drunkenness. This theory is unproven. Gawron, for his part, finds he can often drink all night long and never get loaded.

Some keto dieters find drinking is no longer fun at all.

“When I drink on carbs, the music sounds 1000 [times] better,” lamented one KetoDrunk commenter, with another describing the feeling of being drunk on keto as “less euphoric and more intoxicated.” A third said, “Basically it just makes me sleepy.”

If only sleepiness were the most pressing issue. There are some bigger health concerns to contend with as well. Bad breath is one, as ketosis causes acetone production; you might want to bring sugar-free mints on your Tinder date. Rashes are likely, too. Bloating is also possible, a common side effect of overconsumption of natural sweeteners. But dehydration is the biggest concern, as people on keto store less water than someone eating SAD (their somewhat derisive acronym for the “Standard American Diet”). Plus, alcohol is a diuretic, which causes many people to flush all the electrolytes from their body after a night of hard boozing. This often manifests itself in severe leg and foot cramping.

“I woke up this morning yelling out of pain and my roommate ran in the room to check on me,” complained a rare woman in the group; a sympathetic commenter revealed that cramps kept hitting him during post-bar coitus.

That’s why many KetoDrunk practitioners have started to chug pickle juice once they get home for the night. Others start electrolyte-loading while drinking, using pickle juice as their mixer—Tito’s vodka and pickle juice on ice is particularly popular. Stranger, perhaps, is the pickle juice Daiquiri, a mix of brine, lime juice, and rum, which you can garnish with a bread-and-butter slice when you’re feeling snazzy. (Pickle juice has not been conclusively proven to be an effective source of electrolytes.)

Wiseman appeases his drunchies with butter on cheese. We cannot recommend this.

Esquire

If you have the willpower to be KetoDrunk, there’s still the concern about what to eat for KetoDrunk food. Pizza and nachos are obviously off the table. Pork rinds and unsauced chicken wings are a great option, as are bunless burgers and crustless pizza, where browned mozzarella acts as the bottom layer.

“If I’ve had a few drinks on a fasted stomach, you may find me spreading butter on a slice of cheddar cheese,” Wiseman tells me.

Even KetoDrunk’s most monk-like followers know the other shoe is all but guaranteed to drop the next day, no matter what they ate or drank the night before. No, not in the form of weight gain, but as one of the apparently legendary hangovers you can only get while on keto, which some practitioners say last up to three days. “The headaches are like nothing else I’ve experienced,” said one dieter on the forum, while another said they frequently found themselves “wishing for the sweet release of death to put me out of my misery.”

One KetoDrunk enthusiast offered yet another hack, this one to get around the hangovers: “I usually just drink 1-2 Nuun caplets dissolved in some water throughout the night. And a ton of blow,” this commenter wrote. “Usually wake up feeling like a billion bucks.”

Aaron Goldfarb Aaron Goldfarb lives in Brooklyn and is a novelist and the author of ‘Hacking Whiskey.’

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