i get told daily

anonymous asked:

no offence but i think you should try and do something new, clothing ideas are just a recommendation but all you post are what i eat in a day and tbh it gets a little dull for a channel to just have that...

my channel is for what I eat, workouts and recipe videos. I’m also starting to vlog more, filming 2 this week. This stuff is what I enjoy filming and it’s my passions👍🏼 I get told daily to film MORE what I eat videos, I’ve done so many hahah but I’m also just listening to what people want which is food and workouts😊

The Accident: Part Two

- Requested - I warn you it’s pretty sad, so if you can’t deal with things like that please do not read - 


Contingent days of sitting in the unnerving silence was a different kind of pain. It hurt all the same but this was more pure and psychologically based, I refused to move, I refused to eat and chose to spend my days looking at the blank wall where I played it all back. 

Everything felt wrong still, the unnerving feeling hadn’t disappeared, instead it loomed over me as I tried to get up everyday making it twice as hard to even think about my feet touching the cold wooden floorboards. At night he wasn’t there to hold me close, kiss my forehead when I woke up from a nightmare or to hold onto if I were cold. He had remained a shadow that slept by my side, an empty feeling that I wanted gone. 

My attempts to call him were over, my brother took my phone away to just stop hearing my sobs to a voicemail that will never be heard or returned. Instead I just sat there, it was lifeless, worse than being in that hospital room. I get told daily updates from my brother as I sit or lie still in my bed, our bed. He tells me about the weather outside, about anything funny he’s seen or when he will make me something to eat- no mention of his name or anything to do with his life, he saw it as a trigger and I knew from the glazed look in his eyes. 

Every night since I came home after waking up from yet another nightmare without him to comfort me I would go to the window and admire the stars. The most prominent thought was always about him, whether he too was looking at the moon and thinking of me like I did to him. He used to call the freckles on my face little stars that make my smile shine brighter than the moon in winter, and I would call him the beaming sun due to the pure amount of joy he would bring. But that’s not the case anymore, I’m stuck without the sunlight to brighten up my life, trapped in this permanent darkness. 

A whole month after my recovery period, four months in total of silence had passed. Things had gotten slightly easier, I got up in the mornings and joined my brother for breakfast, we spoke about the weather and his plans for the day - still not talking about him. I would zone out when I saw pictures of us on holidays, his drumsticks in the basement or the odd wrist band on the furniture. But slowly these things were easier to see, they reminded me that I too needed to get better, if he can put himself through hell then I can do this. 

Eventually I wandered outside, firstly I went into the garden and let the soft chill in the air attack my skin and cause goosebumps to form, the good kind. I smelt the autumn flowers and played in the rich orange leaves that fell from the neighbours tree. Then I went for a coffee with my best friend, I walked more to help with my leg and my ribs, I needed this. I needed to live again. 

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, the amount of worry that followed when I got a phone call from an unknown number one evening whilst watching a film. Answering all I could hear was heavy breathing, I knew that sound from those nights after he got back from tour where we could be ourselves, together. I knew it from the laughing fits we had or the aftermath of playing his heart out. My mouth went dry, words didn’t form and my mind wouldn’t function. Opening my mouth I tried to form his name, speak it no matter how hard the tears fell from my eyes yet it was no good. A croak escaped me and as soon as it did I was back to being the fragile state I was when I found his letter, mumbling words to myself in some form of comfort. 

My brother found the phone in my hand when I woke up, my face stained with tears and I struggled to remember what had happened until I unclenched my fist to see the crumpled letter that was in my other hand. His words still affecting me as if I had read them for the first time, sitting upright I let out a shaky breath and wiped away the last of my tears, shaking my head. “I’m done.” 

Two words were enough for me, I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t spend my days in fear or confusion about our future together. He hadn’t spoken to me or anyone for four months and the sound of him breathing was enough to send me over the edge. I couldn’t wait, I couldn’t live like this and wonder for the rest of my life what if he came back or said something besides he was sorry. 

I may not have been toxic to him but I was a toxin to myself because of him. Picking up a bag from underneath my bed I began to put some things inside, essentials to last me a week or so. In the midst of packing my brother knocked on the door and froze as he saw the amount of mess I was creating but it didn’t stop me, he questioned me but with the lack of response he walked away. Lifting the bag I began to walk out of my room but glanced back before I turned the light off, eyeing all of the photographs and the blank wall that I spent too long picking apart. 

As I reached the doorway my brother stood there, his arms crossed and face torn. “Where are you going?” He asked raising an eyebrow, sighing I shuffled on the spot. 

“I’m going to visit mum for a while.” I spoke quietly, not wanting to say anything too boldly in case he questioned me more so. “Just look after the place will you? I need some time away from it all,” Looking around I pictured every memory that was made in each of these rooms. “it’s getting to me more as the days pass.” Giving him a tight hug I unlock the door, “I’ll be back soon, thank you for everything.” He nods in response as I close the door behind me and head to my new car, having to replace the entirely destroyed beloved car I used to own. 

Driving away I gripped onto the steering wheel, it took me awhile to get back into a car after the accident. A part of me was terrified it could happen again, that the bones that had only just healed would get shattered like glass, break like my heart did as I was left to pick up the pieces alone. The drive back home was only a couple of hours long, drives like these allowed me to think, reflect on everything that had gone on in these past few months. My parents knew there were issues, they were supportive and hence why my brother stayed with me throughout this period, he was always my rock to lean on when I was growing up. 

Arriving outside my mum walked out and squeezed me tightly, “Yep my ribs have just healed so go ahead and break them again eh mum?” I joked and she pulled away, taking a good look at my disheveled state.  

“A good meal ought to do you some good, come on inside.” She began to tell me all about the things everyone has been up to, how my cousin had gotten the job he was after for a while or how my uncle spilt red paint all over his white rug when re-decorating. 

This is what I needed, an element of normality in my life and I knew it would easily be restored at home. Here I was just me, I wasn’t known as having a breakdown or suffering from that accident. I could be myself, the self I needed to rekindle with. Family time was essential, I was able to laugh without feeling guilty as I saw his photo in the background or sing without hearing him join in. Things we would always do as a pair had now become a solo act, and I was okay with it. 

At least I thought I was. 

Tuesday morning, not the sort of day I wanted to start with my parents yelling my name in need, a sense of urgency as they drew my name out like that. The way they did when I was growing up and wondered if I had run away from home or had a guy in my room with me, or that something bad had happened. Hearing them call for the fifth time I pushed the duvet off of my body and slipped out of bed and walked to the landing and glanced downstairs to see them both pacing and muttering things to each other. 

Hovering at the top of the stairs I wrapped my dressing gown tightly around myself for warmth and their heads turned to face me, a look of fear hidden within their expressions. Anxiously I walked down the stairs, my heart now in my throat. “What’s wrong?” I asked trying to keep calm, have logical thinking about this, it could be anything, anything. Don’t think it’s the worst, don’t think it’s him. 

My mum exchanged a look with my dad and the two of them led me into the living room to sit on a sofa. Eyes wide with worry this was bad, any logical thought that I had was gone, it had been banished as the last time they did this to me they told me how my grandma had cancer. A soft hand was placed on my left shoulder as my dad kept his eyes on the rug beneath his feet. Looking to my mum she wore that sympathetic smile but confusion within her eyes. 

“Listen sweetheart,” Sign two that something bad has happened, not addressing me by my name, the attempt to sugarcoat this has begun. “we got a phone call half an hour ago from the Police.” I shifted but my parents calmed me down as my heartbeat took over every other sound, drowning everything else. “You aren’t in any trouble do not worry, it was about an incident that happened this morning.” She sighed and tore her eyes from mine. “A body was discovered near the beach, and they erm,” She was tearing up, the words were like poison that she couldn’t get out with ease, glancing to my dad my eyesight failed me as I blinked continuously, all he could do was nod. 

“They think it’s Ashton.” 

I can’t do this anymore. 

Part Three // Part Four // Part Five // Part Six (Final) 

I am so fed up with living with an alcoholic. I have to put up with the shouting, the hitting, the abuse, all the shit I’m claimed for. I have to pick her up off the floor, clean her off. I get told daily that everything is my fault and then the next morning I have to pretend that everything is normal because she can’t remember that anything had happened the night before. I can’t do it anymore.

This has probably been posted so many times but I’m so sick of this shit.

I’ve been relatively skinny and tiny all my life. 5'0 and 85 pounds (38.5 kg for everyone on the metric system). Never had an eating disorder or anything like that. I just have a lightning fast metabolism which is really not such a hard concept to grasp. Yet on a weekly damn near daily basis I get told I need to eat a burger or I need to go get some Mcdonalds. I even got referred to the guidance counselor. In school I got mandated to the weight room because I’m “under weight”. It makes me feel like utter shit.

Why is it ok to tell a skinny person to go eat something while it’s like a fucking war to tell a curvier (I don’t want to say the f word cause it’s really rude) to stop eating or go on a diet? Better yet why are woman putting each other down twice as much as men? An example would be that “If you’re thin you can’t get in” picture. How the hell is that socially acceptable? What ever happened to if you don’t have anything nice to say don’t say it at all? Can’t we all just agree body shaming of any shape or form is a dick move and cut it out?

Sometimes we can’t help how we are and that goes for all body types. In an ideal world we love ourselves however we are. It’s incredibly hard to do that with society telling us we have to look this way and that way to be desirable. Not every skinny person is anorexic and not every curvy person is obese, crazy right?. That’s a totally separate problem. The body shaming has to stop. It’s just mean and makes people feel horrible and puts them at risk for various eating disorders.

Just don’t be a dick.

A message for all the bigots and prejudice out there.

I know I said this was a safe environment through and through and I’d never expose the community to hate that comes in my ask box nor would I entertain it, but I could not stand by with this and let it go. On a daily bases I get told so many invalidating things and called so many things and they go straight in the tumblr trash. I keep my head up and don’t let the hate bother me, and this didn’t bother me so much as I think you all need to see just how far I am willing to fight not only for the pan community but for other communities of orientations who like us are constantly invalidated for not being strictly gay or straight or being a newer term. Also for the people whose genders are invalidated for the same reasons. I wont stand for hate and you all shouldn’t either.

This may be triggering so please read the ask with caution and know that everything they said is untrue and completely wrong. 

You have invalidated not only me but 15,000 + other people and however many there are in the aro community. and that is disgusting. For your information yes they are sexualities. THEY DO EXIST! PEOPLE WHO IDENTIFY AS THEM DO EXIST! I don’t even know how you can begin to think that being pan and aro are based off an opinion because there is no argument to support that. I can’t even begin to think of where you might think this or be able to back this opinion of yours. You lack any solid points to sustain this argument and any evidence to support such an argument. Aromantic is more than “I don’t want to date.” it’s about not having or rarely feeling romantic attraction not having those feelings towards others and not having or rarely feeling any romantic feelings towards people. They’re not sluts and only want to hook up nor are they just “not really looking to date right now” or scared of commitment. This is engrained in them and they cannot change it and society is stupid to think every relationship has to be based around both romance and sex when it in fact does not. Pansexual is NOT ABOUT PERSONALITY I’m pan and you know what on a daily bases I say “dude that person over there is smoking hot” and I don’t even know that person therefor i don’t know their personality. Yeah it can play a factor in attraction but it’s not the only factor in attraction. Pansexual means an attraction to all genders, or where gender does not make a difference in attraction. GENDER! Gender and sex are two different things look it up. Gender is a characteristic about a person that does not rely on their anatomy. Sex is based on someones reproductive organs. We have “invented” these terms because it gives us a sense of validation. It gives us a way to identify this part of us that for a majority of us has been suppressed and misunderstood. This part that caused anxiety and confusion for so long, that now we have a name for it. We have a name for it so we can better understand this part of us that society has either completely disregarded or tried to change. We have a word for something we didn’t even know had a name. We use it to identify ourselves and to create communities for people who are like us and who we can relate with and realize we are not alone. So yes this term was invented, but language itself was invented. Why do you feel the need to go by your first name? Why do you feel the need to call an apple an apple? To know who you are or what that thing is, to identify, and to better understand. To separate you from Tom sitting next to you. To separate the apples from the oranges. That is how language works that is how self identification works and excuse me if some of these terms are new, or were spread more throughout the internet, but that doesn’t make these terms any less valid. Educate yourself and you know what watch it the next time you go in someone’s ask box trying to invalidate them because you look like a total ignorant asshole.


Hello, friends! We have more good news to share today!

Mommy took me back to the vet’s yesterday for another check-up. Dr. B. was absolutely thrilled with the poop we brought in this time–big and poopy with zero pinworms! Hooray! I got another dose of Panacur deworming just in case there are any stray worms left in my gut, but I should be done with deworming now!

Dr. B. was sad that I was passed out again when she saw me, but she was happy to hear that I am continuing to eat and poop like a champ every day. In fact, I am even eating my calcium powder now! Friend Jovski suggested putting my calcium powder in the fridge, which helps it last longer and, even better, takes away a lot of its nasty taste.

I have gained another two grams in the last two weeks! Everyone is so happy with how steadily I am gaining weight. Unfortunately, I am still puffy, if not even more so. We think my puffiness is partly because I have been getting long daily soaks (I told Mommy baths are awful!!). But I am puffy enough that Dr. B. is worried that I may not be getting enough protein, which can cause fluids to leak out of my tissues. So Dr. B. sent me home with a big bag of carnivore critical care food. Mommy will put a tiny little bit of the carnivore food on my food to help me get a little extra protein (but not too much because too much protein is bad for an herbivore like me!).

In the meantime, Dr. B. told Mommy to keep propping me up so that fluids don’t accumulate in my front end and pressure my lungs. I got to nap on the softest towel while Dr. B. demonstrated! Dr. B. told Mommy that she thinks I would have been long gone if it weren’t for all the personal attention I’ve been getting for the last month. I do love getting lots of attention!

To finish off my visit at the vet’s, I yawned the biggest yawn after nice nurse Katie gave me my (last?) deworming treatment, and I opened both my eyes for nurse Katie to see how pretty my eyes are! Now I just have to show Dr. B. my eyes next time.

15176) Purging is getting so much easier, and I'm starting to do it daily. I told myself it'd never get this far and it was only until I lost a few pounds. It's too late now.
The Deal 2: Hell on Earth (Chapter 8)

Previous chapters

No smut in this chapter! Definitely in the next though!!!! Sorry, friends. I feel like the story ends up being written better if I split the non-smut parts of chapters from the smut parts if it starts getting too long, ya know? Because once a chapter gets too long I lose interest and then the ends suck so it’s best to split it. Ya understand? Idk. Plus this way if I split things then hopefully there will be more frequent updates!! Enjoy anyway!!!

Keep reading


Growing up I used to get told I was ugly on a daily basis. Can’t front there were a few times when it got to me. As I got older I got more comfortable with myself and grew past it. No I’m not talking about it but can’t nobody tell me I’m not a handsome motha fucka. Girls with dark skin aren’t the only ones that get the short end of the stick growing up. I’ve been in situations where people are scared of me because of how I look but i wear my chocolate skin as a Royal Robe that can’t be duplicated. today I would say you should fear me because I have the skin of people who do great things. I have the skin color of perseverance. I have the skin color of the original Kings. The melanin in my skin is strong and you should fear my greatness and what I have the potential to become. I hope some young black kid will see this and see himself in me Happy dark skin Appreciation Day. And much love to all my people of color.