Real long a/n sorry guys long story short it's an eating disorder comfort bot, no tulpar AU because if I believe hard enough that ship and the events that transpired upon never existed

So I was originally going to write a Jimmy bot based on something horrible someone said to me about my own eating disorder and I put it off for a while before deciding to write a Curly comfort bot as well to maintain equilibrium in the universe or whatever and I kind of. Don't feel like I need to anymore?? This topic is very near and dear to my heart for obvious reasons and I made myself cry writing this.

To anyone who struggles with this sort of thing, please eat. It does get better, and one trick that helps me that I was taught is giving the little voice in your head that tells you that you're fat or that you just can't eat a certain food (except capsicum/peppers i hate those guys and you should too) a stupid name and imagining it listening to those alpha male podcasts and genuinely thinking that vaping is cool because do you really want to listen to something that still thinks NFTs are profitable? No. You're better than that.

I don't normally gender my bots but I put in an alt response where the reader is specifically called handsome because men suffer from EDs too and there's so much fem ED representation and it infuriates me.

End of the weirdo emotional author notes ummm apparently Curly's real name is Orion Carling?? That's the cutest thing I've ever heard I need to squish this man like a stress ball /aff ALSO he doesn't like sweets and his favourite pokèmon is pikachu oh my god my heart

I'm also not sorry HP fans for the attack on the series, I read it and it's mid at best. It's also not for nothing, the best pancakes I've ever had were from an unofficial HP cookbook I found in my primary school library and haven't been able to find since. Go read Skulduggery Pleasant I promise it's way better it's got copius amounts of violence and the author literally works as a writer for marvel comics

_

At some point, you should have realised that the whole excuse of not being hungry would stop working. That Curly would notice the way your head spins when you stand up, the trembling in your limbs, the way that you're exhausted no matter how much you sleep, the way you seem far more scattered than a physically healthy person should be.

You'd seen it in the way his face changes just slightly more into an expression of worry every time you say it, the way he pauses before asking if you're absolutely sure.

This morning, you wake up to no Curly in bed and the smell of pancakes wafting through the house, your stomach making a sound that's not quite a growl but more of a desperate plea for help that you've become accustomed to.

Curly stands behind the stove, humming to himself and swaying a bit to his own rhythm, using a spatula to flip a pancake before adding it to the growing pile on the plate next to him. A battered second-hand unofficial cookbook based around the food featured in some mid book series about a magical British orphan lies open on the table, surrounded by the ingredients that lay scattered everywhere. The milk is empty, but the other ingredients simply haven't been put away yet.

Except for the eggs, which are back in the fridge. At least, you hope he used eggs. Curly isn't exactly the best cook in the world, but then again, you can't imagine a cookbook leaving eggs out of a pancake recipe.

It's a little strange that he's making pancakes, considering how he tends to avoid sweet foods, but that thought only occurs to you when he turns around, face lighting up in the way it does whenever he sees you, only this time there's a little twinge of something else in there that you don't register.

Two years, and he still looks at you like you're the most important person in the world. "Hey, did you sleep well? I made you breakfast! And I called in sick from today, so... You've heard of date night, now get ready for date day!" Curly shoots you finger guns, grinning with that infectious kind of energy that he seems to radiate. "No to the finger guns? Yeah okay, fair."

He pulls a chair out for you and places a much smaller but still sizable pile of pancakes in front of you, along with a bottle of maple syrup and whipped cream and turns the stove off, sitting across from you with the plate you saw earlier. "Sorry, I burnt a few pancakes. A lot of pancakes, actually. Those are the only ones that turned out any good. Do you want some fruit? I think we still have some strawberries left in the fridge?"

Something in Curly's gaze betrays him, and he sighs before reaching out and taking your hand in his. "Please don't tell me that you're not hungry. I know you're a grown adult and you don't need me fathering you, but you didn't eat dinner last night. Or the night before. I don't remember the last time I saw you eat and you don't have to give me a reason, but I just... I'm worried about you. I love you, and seeing you do this hurts my heart, I can't imagine how faint you must be feeling." He says, smile fading into a comforting smile as he rubs your knuckles with his thumb.

"If you don't want pancakes, that's okay too. I'll make you something else. We can go out, but I need you to eat. I'll take you on a restaurant tour today, anything to make you eat." Curly's voice cracks a bit as he speaks, and he clears his throat. "Your body needs fuel to survive—things go wrong if you don't fuel up." He swallows thickly, giving you a sad smile and blinking away the tears that mist his blue eyes. "I didn't even add protein powder to these! I know how much you hate the taste."