#all the money i have is going towards her. i have enough body fat to survive without eating properly for a while.

[faceglitchsworld]

I thought about the most hurtful comments I heard in my life, and I came to the conclusion that, to this day, the most hurtful ones are always about my body (and in general how I eat badly apparently even if I avoid all the junk food possible) and how I'll end up alone.

And the one who always told me these words has always been my mum...

Yikes 😬

[cuntwrap--supreme]

Dog has a swollen lymph node. Just one for now. Which means her cancer is getting worse already. The longer this goes on, the more detached I feel from reality.

[igotanidea]

five more minutes: Dick Grayson x fem!reader

I'm (not) sorry, but that smug face fits right into this fanfiction!!

request/summary: Dick getting clingy when the reader needs to go somewhere

A/N: so, I think I'm back? Two weeks break and I'm getting into the swing of things again, so please go easy on me with this story......

***

When she wakes up in the morning something seems off almost instantly.

It only takes a second to realise that said thing took the form of Dick Grayson, her beloved boyfriend, the man by day and the fearless vigilante by night. The protector of Gotham and its people.

Well, if only the people could see him now.

Sleeping in a weird position with the imprint of the pillow on his cheek, messy hair and some dried saliva in the corner of his mouth.

He so cute and adorable like that. Y/N does the quick scan of his face and body in the search for any injuries he might have obtained during the patrol but her heart rests easy when she noticed him being all in one piece with no blood or stiches. Either it was a quiet and peaceful night or he already took care of himself. Her bets are the latter, but since it’s work day she doesn’t really have any time to wait until he wakes up to blame him for not being careful.

As quiet and swift as she can, Y/N tries to move out of bed, but since Dick’s senses are heightened she doesn’t really get far, when his arms wraps around her, keeping her in place.

“Dick……” she mutters

“Mhmmmm……” he mumbles into the pillow

“Come on, I have get  up!”

“no you don’t.”

“I gotta get to work!”

“I’m the only work you need……” he grins, still half-asleep, but so full of himself and she almost rolls her eyes at the joke

“God, please stop…. I need to earn money you know? Not all of us have a billionaire daddy!”

“You’re dating the billionaire oldest son, isn’t that enough?”

She wonders for a moment. On a second thought maybe it is. Dick seems to use that heartbeat of hesitation, shifting his body weight on her, pinning her to bed, his eyes still closed, but this little shit knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Dick!” she gasps feeling all those muscles crush her “shit!

“I like it when you call my name in such a desperate words. Do it just one more time and the neighbours will hate you forever.” He chuckles and his makes her skin tingle.

You’re heavy…..” she squirms trying to break free, but it’s no use. “You brought it on yourself….” The girl mutters poking on his ribs in the place where he’s extremely sensitive because of an old injury.

“Hey!” he yells, trying to defend himself and letting go off her in the process.

Y/N is quick to jump out of bed and rush towards her wardrobe, grabbing her jeans and t-shirt and struggling to put them on.

“Not so fast!” Dick tears her clothes from her hands and holds them high out of reach.

“Not fair Grayson!”

“You called me fat.”

“I called you heavy!’

“Same thing!”

“It’s not….. You know what, fine. I’ll just wear something else….” She shrugs and runs towards the drawer, but before she could reach it Dick grabs her from behind and holds her tight to him

“Dick…….” She whines stretching out just to grab something to wear. Anything.

“I know. I’m irresistible.”

“A pain in the ass is what you are!”

“I can make you breakfast….” He tempts

“You’re not Jason, Dick. Making me breakfast means putting cereals In the bowl and poring some milk over it in your dictionary. Cold milk. And that is only if I bought both cereals and milk.”

“did you?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Can’t you see how hard I’m trying? Just for you. Come on, you are like an employee  of the month. Or even a year. Stay…..” he kisses her neck playfully “you can call in sick.”

“I used all my sick days because of you.”

“How about casual leave?”

“and what may be the emergency?” she sighs in defeat, her body going limp as she drops the fighting knowing well enough she won’t win it. “Clingy boyfriend?”

“You called me boyfriend!” he grins again and she facepalms herself.

“We’ve been together for a year Dick. Why do you seem surprised?”

“I could never get bored with hearing that word from you. Makes me proud that you’re mine.”

“trying to sweet talk me? Won’t work. By the way, you are soooooo cheesy Grayson.”

“And?” he asks

“ And? What and?”  at this point Y/N is confused, her eyebrows furrowing as she turns to meet his gaze

“And you love me?” he insist, spinning her around in his arms so that he can get easy access to her kissable face.

“Yeah…..” she smiles dreamily “yeah, I do love you, you idiot” she trails with a love sick puppy expression. But it doesn’t mean I’m gonna stay and be you babysi…..ah! Put me down!” she yells suddenly feeling her body lift of the ground without her knowledge or will. “Put me down Grayson! What are you……?! Damn it…!”

Dick does not listen or does not get impressed by her poor attempts to break free. He’s Nightwing. He’s got so many ways to immobilise the opponent. Or, in this case, lover.

“Dick I swear I am going to kick your ass if you don’t….!” the threat dies on her lips as he throws her onto the mattress and kisses her softly shutting her up in the process.

“Stay?” he pouts looking at her with those pretty doe eyes “Pretty please?”

“You act like a five year old!”

“A five year old that wants you. A five year old that misses you…”

“I’ll be back, you know……” she brush the strand of hair from his face. She’s already gone but still tries to keep the appearances.

“Yeah, at 6 p.m. or later. It’s almost the time when I get ready for my night shift…… Please…..”he whines nuzzling his nose over her neck “stay…..”

“please…..” she mimics his whining, caressing his cheek “let me go……”

“But I need you…….” He hide his face in her belly and his hair tickle

“Why do you always need me when I am supposed to go to work?’

“It’s a terrible and uncontrollable disease…..” he laughs

“Is there a cure?” she laughs back

“I can think of something….” He closes the gap between them, nibbling on her bottom lip. “and it may be working…. But I;m not sure. Need some more testing” he repeats his action. “Mhm, yes, it’s definitely working… You don’t want me to be sick, do you?”

“Not really. You are whiny and attention seeker when you are sick.”

“I am not!” he shouts in denial “ok, maybe I am. A little. But come on, you can stay some more time with me……”

“How long, dickie?” she smiles at him, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“five more minutes?”

“ok. Five more minutes. She sighs deeply, letting go of any of her objections, letting Dick lay beside her and act like a big spoon, while holding her tight to his chest and caressing her sides and belly.

“You’re not letting me go, are you?” she whispers closing her eyes and getting lost in his touch.

“Never.”

And she’s pretty sure she can live with that.  

[lilac-5ky]

Hiya! Can you do one when y/n is bratting off to toji while grocery shopping at 3am(they're alone)🤩😍

A/N: Funnily enough I was sent this while grocery shopping myself. Also, I'm aware that another writer also did a request like this recently, but who am I to say no? However, I'll raise you this: Bratty!Reader dragging Toji to the store at 3am with the goal of having fun 'cause he's been neglecting her.

Tags: public sex gone wrong, unprotected sex, implied car sex, age gap (toji 30's, reader 20's), spanking, bratty reader, soft!dom toji, light degradation, daddy kink, piv, standing sex, name calling (slut, whore), nicknames (baby,sweetheart, kid, etc.), lowkey sugar daddy vibes from toji, talk of masturbation, our man being pussy drunk, theft!?!

Word Count: 3.9k

“Ya seriously gonna wear that?” Your boyfriend’s eyebrow quirks at the sight of you plopping down on the passenger’s seat, the sharp green eye it framed cautiously studying the naked parts of your body; dressing rather than undressing you whole.

“Already am! Why—‘s there something wrong with my clothes?” You bat your eyes sweetly.

This was all part of a bigger plan that was set in motion the second you interrupted his sleep and dragged him out of bed to rev up the car for your nightly excursion to the 24/7 grocery store. Your pink terry-cloth shorts and loose-fitting crop top that barely stretch over your thighs and belly button, respectively—those are your props for the final fact, and you, the star of the show.

“You’re wearing makeup.” Toji accuses as if that’s the root of all evil, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His nose scrunches up. “And perfume.”

“Really?” You feign ignorance with a candied smile. “Must’ve forgotten to take it off. Oopsie.”

“Forgot…sure.” His fingers are still in your hair when he nods, his hand sliding down your neck as he leans closer.

Toji isn’t an idiot. He sees it in the way your pink tongue darts outside your lips a bit too often, wearing off the two layers of gloss you’d carefully applied while he was waiting for you to fetch your precious coupons. He notices how your thighs rub together, your little pussy silently protesting for his neglecting it all night long. And when your cheek willingly tilts into the warmth of his large palm, he knows neither radishes nor toilet paper are what’s in your mind right now.

“My baby doin’ all this for my attention?” His thumb pads across your skin, swiping below you defined eyelash line. “Acting pouty cause I didn’t take care of her needs?”

You find it hard to resist when his other hand dives between your thighs, sidetracking from your own devious plot. He sounds earnest in his efforts, his lips curling into an an apologetic smile they sear on yours. You almost moan from that.

You can’t remember the last time he’d kissed you, even when that was a few days ago, at worst. What you do remember is the reason why you’re doing all this, and you refuse to return it. You let him pointlessly swirl his tongue in your mouth, failing to meet with your folded one.

“C’mon, princess, don’t go cold on me,” he mumbles. “Told ya work was shit today.” You said that the previous day, too. “Couldn’t even keep my eyes open to see how pretty you are. So damn pretty,” he takes his chances again, only this time you have no qualms about backing away toward the window.

His frustration gathers in his grip, his fingers digging crescent moons in the fat of your thighs. He glares, and you chuckle awkwardly before the situation can get out of hand.

“That’s not it! So what if this is the eight night in a row you come home beat after midnight and we haven’t… you know, in nearly two weeks? You think I’m counting? You think I don’t know how hard you work? That I don’t appreciate all the nice things your money’s gotten us?”

You plant a quick peck on his blossoming scowl. “Because I do. I really do, it’s just today’s the last day to cash these coupons out. Don’t want me going off on my own in the middle of the night, do you?”

He keeps quiet, the sole reason he allows himself to be manipulated by such cheap tricks being that up until fifteen minutes ago he was —unbeknownst to him— drooling on your pillow. That and to strip you off your clothes later on; a reason not too dissimilar from your own.

“Let’s go. I promise we’ll be snugglin’ in bed before you realize we were gone.”

“Are those stupid coupons worth that much to ya?” Toji asks.

No, they aren’t. You couldn’t care less about these stupid coupons if you tried, but staying home means spending another night burning your eyes at your phone’s screen by the snoring corpse on the left side of the bed. And you’d tried. You’d gone through every lingerie set in your possession, dabbed a generous amount of that falsely advertised Moroccan oil across your legs and rubbed your silky-smooth cunt all over his crotch like a bitch in heat, only to be turned down with another of his hoarse groans.

You’ve been patient with him. You are grateful that as tired as he was, he chose your bed to pass out on and not some random “coworker’s”. That the flawed man you’ve fallen head over heels for put up effort into straightening up for you. But relationships don’t run on gratitude alone. You miss him. His touch, his kiss, his fuck—even the green color swallowed past his permanently shut eyelids. If a silly idea is what it takes to have your boyfriend back, then you’ll gladly sit through a ten-minute drive of resentment.

“Yes, they are.” You smile, watching his hand relocate to the gear lever.

The clock points to 3:18 AM when Toji pulls over at the vacant parking lot that mirrors the state of the store; no one but a single employee to defend the fortress from the safety of his register. He acknowledges your presence with a nod, his head buried between the pages of the latest Shounen Jump. That’s not very professional of him, but what can you expect from someone who receives his paychecks for acting as a guard dog?

Toji grabs a cart from the stand and lazily pushes it into the first aisle, while you follow after the long-drawn gait of his sandals. You can’t help but pick on his slouch, both elbows balancing against the handlebar. His hair’s still ruffled from sleep, though it’s always kind of messy in a cute, boyish way. His shoulders seem twice as broad, prompting you to loop your arms around his slim waist and nuzzle your cheek against his back. You love how big he looks from this angle, yet not as big as he looks when he’s hunched over you with both your legs on both his shoulders—

“What’s your first coupon for?” He glances at you over his shoulder.

You sort the coupons in your hands, finding the one closest to the aisle you’re strolling.

“Soda. It’s right there,” you point out, and he takes a turn.

He parks the cart on the opposite end of the shelves while you take stock of the different cans and bottles, contemplating whether to start high or low. Your eyes fall on a six-pack bundle of grapefruit soda shoved deep into the highest shelf. You don’t love the flavor, but this will do.

You tiptoe to the shelves and stretch your arms as much as possible, your shirt lifting to reveal your bare back to him while your fingertips barely make contact with the edge of the plastic packaging. Your tits bounce as you jump up and down a few times before you graciously admit defeat.

“Toji? Would you mind getting that for me?” You ask pleadingly.

His jaw falls slack after a minute-long yawn, his eyes tracking your index finger to the bundle it points at. He cocks his head while sizing you up, a hint of a smirk twitching at his scar. He’s finally awake.

“Nah, you do it. Aren’t ya the one who preaches women’s equality and says there’s nothing men can do that women can’t?” Toji sneers. “Go on, kid. ‘m watching.”

A sigh leaves you as you turn around. “Feminism‘s got nothing to do with height.”

You throw yourself over the shelves again and hook a finger under the plastic net that binds the sodas together. The cans shimmy near the brink, and you are certain you will catch them when Toji’s hips suddenly snap against your ass. You yelp as the cans threaten to squash your head, a hand catching them with ease in mid-air while another hikes up your shirt and exposed underboob.

His hot breath tickles the shell of your ear as his lips attach to your lobe. “It’s got everything to do with you dressing like a whore, though, doesn’t it?”

You bite your lip into a straight line as you’re sandwiched between his body and the shelves, his fingers pinching your nipple harshly. You almost whimper—almost give in to him too easily when he starts grinding onto you, the press of his groin becoming more prominent with every languid sway.

“Wanna get fucked like one?” Toji doesn’t mumble so much as groan in your ear. “Promise I’ll be quick; heh, might give ya some more coupons after.”

An automated message informing you of the special discount in the baking aisle allows you to slip away from his clutches, and you’re unable to keep your giggles to yourself. His fists pang against the shelf while he curses under his breath. The sight is pathetic, but not pathetic enough for you to call things even. You want him to suffer like you did.

“On second thought, I’m trying to cut down on soda.” You declare much to his audible dismay. “Let’s check the baking aisle next. We’re out of bread.”

Toji stalks behind you, assuming his previous bored stance while pushing the cart forward with his entire body. You hear him huff every now and then, but don’t pay any mind. At least he’ll be rewarded handsomely for his patience. Yours wasn’t.

You halt in front of the various loaves and pastries, overjoyed to see that the overpriced organic linseed bread you constantly made excuses to not buy is 50% down. This might be a good chance to try it out. You fling it in the cart and continue your search for baked goods on the lower shelves. Jam-filled donuts. You definitely don’t need those, but it’s the only purchase you can justify, considering you have no use for the baking supplies surrounding them.

You make sure his eyes are fixed on you and bend over, exaggerating the arch of your bum. You hum softly, unsuspecting of any danger, and rock your hips while supposedly inspecting the labels. Strawberry jam, cherry jam, apricot jam, and—there it is. Your hair falls over your face as you catch his feet stepping between your own. Soon, his presence is felt rather than sensed.

Toji’s palm spreads over your cheek, his fingers long enough to squeeze a good chunk of flesh between them. “You cunning little slut,” he says in a gravelly voice. “Y’think I don’t know what you’re trynna do?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just checking the fillings; can’t read the letters while standing.” You lie through your teeth.

“Fillings, huh?” He repeats, and the word changes meaning on his tongue, gaining a lewd intonation. “Anyone can fill that sloppy cunt from this angle, sweetheart. That why you insist on doin’ groceries alone? Y’enjoy letting others see my pussy?”

You love how possessive he gets over your body. That’s another thing you’ve missed. You want him to say it again—to stake his claim over every inch of your body like he did before this hellish month began. You chose this store because you knew it would turn into a graveyard at this hour, but you honestly wouldn’t mind if it was packed with people either. You’d want to be filled by him all the same.

In a moment of weakness, you breathe out his name, and he slaps your ass so hard it reverberates across the aisles as an off-beat drum to the chirpy background music.

“Don’t ‘Toji’ me, girl. Y’know what to call me.”

“D-daddy,” you correct.

“There’s my baby,” Toji praises. “Taught her good manners, mhm?

Your cheeks assume a rosy shade. You’ve never used that name on him in public. It feels exhilarating—perhaps even more so than his fingers shoving the fabric of your shorts to the side and slipping right between your dripping folds.

He gasps. It’s a tiny sound that he thinks you missed, but it’s enough for you to gain confidence. Not many things are capable of shocking the Fushiguro Toji. His other hand joins in the action, rolling your shorts until they dig into your skin like a thong, and his suspicions are confirmed; you weren’t wearing anything underneath.

“Such a naughty girl,” Toji says, and his voice reaches deep within your pulsing core. You don’t think you can do this anymore. Correction: You don’t want to do this anymore.

His middle and ring fingers push into your hole a second time, and he slowly pumps them in and out, your clear essence coating his knuckles. Two fingers shouldn’t stretch you this good. You’re scared that in all these days, your pussy forgot the stretch of his cock.

“I oughta punish ya for acting up like a complete brat without my permission, but I’m feeling generous.” He says and you thank the gods, the universe, and whoever else is listening to your prayers for not letting you become the first woman in human history to experience blue balls.

“Tell me what ya dragged me here for, and don’t gimme any of that coupon bullcrap, or else you’ll be crawling outta here on all fours.”

Is that a promise or a threat?

His thumb finds your clit and you choke on a moan, the red jam squirting out of the donuts you grip. That’s plenty to answer his question.

“Now tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it for ya,” He rubs a full circle around the nub, the rest of his fingers plunging in so deep your knees go weak. “Got lots of options,” he reads the signs over your heads. “Canned; Deli; Snack; Dairy Aisle might be too cold for ya, hah, unless you’re into some temp play.”

His stalling makes you impatient. “Toji, I swear to God, if you don’t fuck me right here, right now I’ll fucking implode.”

The older man chuckles lowly, finding your outburst positively endearing. He fixes your shorts back in place and instead grabs your hand, forcing you to follow him through the empty aisles on a walk that seemingly lasts for hours. He finally lets go when you make it to the Candy aisle, where thousands of colorful gummy bears can bear witness to your sinful act.

Toji flashes a wolfish smile as he corners you between two walls and the door leading to the store’s storage room. He points at the ceiling, and you aren’t sure what you’re looking for until he explains, “It’s a blind spot here. Only place without a working camera.”

He cups your cheek and brings your face to his, licking his lips.

“How do you know that?”

“Great minds think alike. Wanted to bring ya here myself some day. Didn’t think your prude ass would act out first. You’re full of surprises.” His tongue enters your mouth and presses flat against your own. Your fingers lace behind his neck, and his get a firm grip on your hips. He’s much harder than before.

“Speaking of your ass,” and they slide to seize both cheeks, “mind turning ‘round for me?”

His question isn’t a request so much as an order you must obey. “Good girl.” Toji praises you and cages your chest with one arm while the other searches for the zipper in his pants. He lets them ride low around his hips and pulls his cock out of its confinement, stroking it with his fist. You hear his breath grow sharper—or maybe it’s yours. You can’t tell over the sound of your heart; the excitement the same as if it were your first time with him.

Instead of tugging your shorts off, he yanks the fabric to one side and runs his reddened tip between your puffy folds. He hasn’t even pushed it in when you tilt your head to meet his hooded green eyes. “I’ve missed you.” His stare lifts, lustful and adoring as ever. “I’ve missed you so damn much, Toji. You’re always here, but never really here—you know?”

Toji cranes his neck to kiss you, you think, but in reality all he does is swallow the moan that comes out as he drills his cock in your hole. “Missed ya more, sweetheart.” You roll your eyes. He just has to win this too.

Once he bottoms out, he takes a moment to snare his arms appropriately around your body; one holding your shoulders semi-straight and the other spanning over your tummy to grab onto your tit, bulging muscles on both. There’s not much you can do with your hands in this position. You plant them over your mouth to drown out some of your sounds before they can pour out, though most end up slipping anyway as his cock begins to bully your insides.

You were right. It’d been so long that your pussy had reverted to its previous state. It’s more than you can take. More overwhelming and much more pleasurable than you remember.

“Got no idea how much I missed you,” Toji grunts, his voice falling out of tempo while his hips rut at a steady pace. “Got no idea how many times I jerked it to your pictures in the stall. How many—times, I beat my meat to that gorgeous face and spilled my load over your pretty lips.”

Tears well up in your eyes from how fast he’s pounding you; the imagery of his balls tensing up with all that cum he’d wasted fantasizing about you making your pussy sob for him, too.

“You got me running there so often, the guys talk shit behind my back, saying pussy got me whipped. They dunno how perfect this tight little hole is—fuck, baby.” He stutters, his teeth sinking into your neck. “Gonna cum if ya keep grippin’ me like that. So fucking tight cause ya gettin’ fucked in public?”

You whine out loud as he slows down, allowing for your hips to meet his thrusts half-way. Your head is drooping forward and your hand sneaks inside your shorts to play with your clit, flicking the small bundle of nerves while his fat cock continuously brushes against your sweetest spot. You bite at your own palm to keep quiet. It’s always the way he runs his mouth that gets you going the most, clouding your inability to think straight.

“Should I just quit?” Toji asks between heavy pants. “Stay home and fuck every day like we used to?”

You nod furiously without anything of what he’s saying registering. Your legs are turned into jello and your mind into mush while his cock splits you open, and you know that if he retracts his arms you’ll collapse on the floor like a rag-doll.

“C’mon, speak up. No one’s gonna hear us, that nobody doesn’t have the guts to come check.” He rolls your stiffened nipple between his calloused fingers, a palm coming down to slap your ass. “Lemme hear that pretty voice.”

“Y-yes.” You rely on pure perseverance to keep your pitch low as you plant your palms on the wall for support. “Don’t wanna share your cock with anyone, T-Toji.”

His lips print a smile on your neck and another on your cheek. “Don’t you mean me, darling?”

You can’t find your voice to answer him, the coil in your guts continuously tensing up—promising the best climax of your goddamn life until it’s taken away by the rapid stomping of the short-stature employee.

“What are you two doing here?” The man asks, unable to fully take in the scene from the other end of the aisle.

Toji’s large frame covers both you and the point where your bodies connect, his hips still moving on their own in spite of his attention being elsewhere. You pull away half-heartedly and straighten the shorts over your body. He leaves to fix his own clothes, while he does all the talking.

“Huh, this place got no restroom?”

Toji scratches the back of his head, waiting for his zipper to be back up before turning to the man. You mentally cast a curse on the employee, wishing it follows his family down to at least three generations, while your walls still flutter over the absence of Toji’s cock, which by the way, is impossible to hide when it’s throbbing a dark stain in his pants.

To no one’s surprise, the employee doesn’t buy your boyfriend’s excuse and demands you leave before he calls the cops. Seeing as Toji’s had enough trouble with the law as is, you grab his hand and the two of you bolt outside, the linseed bread bidding you a sorrowful goodbye from the cart you abandoned.

You don’t stop running until Toji beeps the car doors open and you fall back into your seats, the first glance you share causing you both to burst into laughter. He leans in your direction and you tilt your head in his, lips stealing a quick kiss that’s soon replaced by a playful punch of his shoulder.

“I liked this grocery store!” You complain as if it’s his fault. “Won’t be able to set foot in here ever again.”

“Plenty of fish in the sea, kid.” He shrugs, twisting the key in the engine. His hand moves to the gear, but when he notices your pout persisting, he turns off the ignition.

“Couldn’t even cash out any of my coupons,” you say in a whiny tone.

“At least we got these.”

Your eyes widen as he reveals a small box of Konpeito candy, having not a single clue when and how he managed to get them. “You stole them?”

“Uh… let’s just say I wasn’t allowed to pay for them.” He answers with an innocent smile.

“Toji!” You yell as if stealing candy is any more severe than any of the multiple felonies he’s committed. It isn’t. “Gimme some.”

Toji holds the box out of reach, extending his arm over his headrest to the backseats. “Nah. You said it’s stolen goods, don’t wanna make my baby into an accomplice. You’re far too cute to have your own mugshot.”

His sweet-talking doesn’t stop you from pouncing at him again, your hands attacking each side of his head while he insists to wiggle them away from you. The second-hand vehicle tips back and forth at your attempts, and eventually honks are fired as you climb on his lap, the fight resulting in another make-out session that reaffirms all of his statements as he tears your clothes off your body and pulls his dick out.

He missed you too.

“I’ll give ya some, but… you gonna let me choose where we do our shopping next.”

A/N: I'm happy this was my first request, had fun writing this!

[maxiroff]

I guess your not who I thought you were ~Natasha Romanoff

Summary: Reader is bullied in school and Natasha asks her to tutor her. They fall in love but is their relationship really as good as reader thinks and what happens when Natasha is put in the spot?

Ps. It’s a shit summery but it will have to do.

Paring: Popular Natasha x bullied reader

Words : 1756

Warnings: ANGST , bullying- mentally and a bit physical, self hatred, eating disorder, talks of suicide, self harm, no happy ending

Note: This is my firs time writing angst so it’s not that good and it’s kinda rushed. And again English is not my first language so there may be errors and I haven’t proofread it.

It started with you tutoring her in math and in english. You were the nerdy outcast that nobody wanted to be seen around with. You’ve been bullied since you can remember and while you tried not to let the comments get to you, sometimes they just do.

“God you're so fat you should just stop eating.”

So you did. And it worked for a while, until it didn't. Every time you stepped on the scale the numbers seem to go up instead of down and your clothes still seem to sit too tight on your body. As the weeks progressed you got thinner and thinner but it was in vain, the comments didn't seem to stop.

“You could at least put on makeup, it's no wonder no one wants you.”

So you did. You bought everything your money would allow, foundation, concealer, mascara, contour, a brow pencil and blush. But it didn't matter, you knew that whatever you did it would still be in vain. You would still be the joke of the school. Everyday you hid behind the mask on your face and every time you looked in the mirror as tears streamed down your face you could see how you were slowly fading away.

God why could you never be enough. There was always something wrong with you and the more people said it the more you believed it.

“You’re such a waste of space, you should kill your self no one wants you here anyway.”

They said as one of them bumped their shoulder into yours so hard you were pushed into a locker. Your arm ached as you could feel how tears welled up in your eyes. All eyes were on you, laughing as you ran as fast you could out of there. You could taste the saltiness of the tears upon your cheeks as you ran all the way home. It was all a blur but suddenly you were home, standing in the bathroom looking in the mirror. Your mascara smeared over your face as you tried to wipe away your tears. The longer you looked the more flaws you could see and the louder the voices in your head seemed.

“You should do it, you know they’re right.” “Your a disappointment to everyone” “Stop eating your so fat” “KIll youself” “No one wants you here anyway” “Kill yourself, do it”

“Aaahhhhhhhh, stop, stop, stop” You shouted as your knees gave out and you fell hard to the marble floor. Leaning your back against the tub you tucked your knees up to your body making you as small as possible. Resting your head on the top of your knees you finally let yourself let go.

“Please” you whispered as sobbs wrecked your body. You were so tired, so tired. When would it stop, why couldn't they just stop, you never did anything wrong. Maybe they were right, you would be doing everyone a favor anyway. You slowly lifted your head looking through your blurred vision for your razor blades. When you turned your head to the right you saw them laying in the corner of the tub. With shaky hands you slowly picked it up and brought it closer to your face, admiring it for a second.

If you found a big enough vein and made it deep enough maybe it would do the job, maybe. It was as if you were in a trance as you slowly rolled up your sleeves and brought the razor towards your arm. With a deep breath you dragged the blade in a perfectly straight line across your arm. Small pearls of blood slowly started to develop in the wound. One turned into many and the blood started to drip down on your clothes and onto the floor. That's when you seemed to wake up.

“Ahh fuck what did I do, what did I do, what did I do?” You quietly chanted over and over as you wobbly stood up and made your way to the sink. Panik set in the moment you realized the amount of blood you had lost and saw black dots in your vision for a moment. Fumbling with the first aid package in the cabinet above the sink you got out bandaids, bandages and rubbing alcohol.

Your eyes welled up again at the sting from the rubbing alcohol in the wounds blurring your vision once again. Carefully you wrapped your arm with the bandage and secured it with the band aids. Not your finest work but it worked for now. You made your way to your bedroom just wanting to sleep after the shock of what happened.

When you woke up the next day you had a text from an unknown number.

Hey I know this might be weird but I have been failing a few classes and I happen to know that you have really good grades in them and was wondering if you could help me?

-Natasha Romanoff, in your economic class.

That was almost three months ago now. Natasha was known for being the popular girl in school, always has been. You knew it could be a mistake to say yes given that she was also known as one of the school bullies. Which you knew all too well having been at the receiving ends of some of her comments. But what the hell right, it's not like life could get worse.

And it didn't. In the beginning it was quite awkward but it wasn't that bad. As the weeks progressed you and Nastaha got closer and she asked you out. You almost couldn't believe it but you said yes and it was the best thing that had happened to you. Of course in the beginning of the relationship you were weary of her intentions because of the nature of it. But as time passed you trusted her more and started to open up about your struggles with mental health and your ED. And in return she told you about her insecurities about being out to the school because she was afraid of being treated differently.

You helped each other and you told her it was okay to keep your relationship secret when she asked. Of course it hurt to not be able to hold her hand in school and not being able to walk her to class or kiss in the hallways like everybody else. But if that was the price that came with being with her, it was worth it, she was worth it. Your small but memorable moments were what counted.

For example yesterday it was your guys six month anniversary and when you opened the door for her she stood there waiting for you with a big bouquet of flowers. She also got you your favorite chocolate and she gave you a build-a-bear with a massage saying she loved you build into it. You had set up a romantic dinner for you and put the flowers on the table. Now it was your turn to give her your gift and you were nervous as hell for her reaction.

“Ehh so you know i couldn't really afford anything fancy but i remembered how you said a few weeks ago that you liked more personal stuff. So I made you this necklace, it has both our initials and I have a matching one.” you said as you carefully handed it over to her. You couldn't even look at her because you were afraid of her reaction. The silence was defeating. Why didn't she say anything? Maybe she hated it. Maybe she thought it was ugly, I mean it was home made after all. God this was a bad idea.

“Em you don’t have to wear it-”

“No shut up I’m going to wear it forever, I love it” Your eyes looked up at her shimmering with tears. “Really” You said hopgull.

“Yes really” she put her hand under your chin and kissed your lips softly. “I love you so much my darling. You are the most valuable thing in my life and I’ll wear this as a sign of that.”

You still could not let that memory go as you wandered the halls a few days later.

You knew Natasha said she wanted to keep the relationship private because she wasn't out to the school. And while you knew that might have been true you knew now that she finally was out that the real reason was because she was ashamed. She was ashamed of you. She didn't want to be seen with you. You could hear your own heart crack when you realized that. It hurt but you knew you could get past that because she meant that much to you.

You normally wouldn't talk to her in school, per her request, but right now you didnt care as you got closer to her and her friend group. She had taken off her necklace when she showered at your house and forgot to take it with her so you were just going to give it back. In and out, a quick exchange, barely any words needed.

You could see how her friends sent you weird looks as they realized you were coming in their direction but Nat hadn't noticed you yet.

“Oh look who it is, the freak” they all laughed and Natasha turned towards you. Her eyes immediately widened and you could see the panicked expression spread on her face.

“What the hell do you want?” Came from one of her friends but you just ignored them.

“Emm N-nat you forgot this at home” you said as you slowly inched your hand closer to her showing the necklace. She watched you with a weary expression.

“And why would I want to have that” she said with a serious tone as her friends laughed at her comment and you slowly drew your hand back in shame.

“I would never wear something as ugly as that, it's even uglier than you” this time she laughed along with her friends. Your eyes filled with tears at the humiliation and hurt as you remembered her promise to you when you gave it to her.

“I guess you're not who I thought you were” was the last thing you said as you turned to run away with tears streaming down your face. Throwing the necklace towards a trash can only missing it by an inch making it fall to the floor. How stupid of you to believe she would ever want you as much as you wanted her.

Part 2 here if you want a happy ending instead

[goddesspharo]

trick or treat!!

[hit me up with ask box trick-or-treats!]

Making the moodboard was apparently not enough to exorcise the idea because I had actually started writing the TGM wedding season AU at some point. Will I ever continue it? Who knows? Here's a snippet:

One could argue that Natasha's insistence on sleeping next to the sole nightstand in the hotel room is the reason that she's jarred awake by "Walking on Sunshine" blasting from Jake's iPhone at two in the morning, but Natasha would argue that only an asshole would leave his ringer on in the first place. She tries to reach up to yank the phone off the charger, but Jake's arm is heavy across her body. If she didn't already start to feel a migraine encroaching on her peace, this might have freaked her out, but Nat is too busy desperately trying to silence his phone to register that the dude who earned the nickname Hangman because of the harem of thirsty women still waiting by their phones for his call is apparently a cuddler once REM sleep takes over. Natasha jams her elbow so hard into his side that it feels dislocated once it bounces off Jake's abs, his two percent body fat doing nothing to cushion the blow. "Are you having a seizure?" Jake groans right before she shoves him off her, grabs his stupid phone, and nearly breaks his nose when she throws it directly at his face. His hand goes up protectively at the last second before he hisses, "What the fuck, Natasha? Be careful with the money-maker!" "If you don't make that stop wailing, you'll never be able to walk again." If she hears Katrina & The Wave drag out that woah one more time, Natasha's going to strangle Jake with the charging cable. Callie would never forgive Nat for ruining her wedding with an inconveniently timed murder, but it would be worth it to extinguish the broad grin that spreads across Jake's face as he looks down at the vibrating phone in his hand. Jake turns it towards her so that Natasha finds herself squinting at the screen. Her vision blurs rebelliously against the bright square in their otherwise dark room before the picture of Bradley playing the piano at The Hard Deck in a hideous Hawaiian shirt dotted with cartoon pineapples comes into sharp focus. The Rooster title card at the top of the screen floats in front of her eyes as her heartbeat traitorously speeds up. "Why is your ex calling me?" Because last week she RSVPed with a plus-one for Pete's wedding and Jake is her plus-one this weekend at this wedding so even someone with remedial math skills can put two and two together? Because if she knows Bob, he called Bradley as soon as the rehearsal dinner was over to give him the scoop? Natasha loves Bob – she really does – but if she were to start a hit list right now, he would be at the very top of it. It should be illegal for well-intentioned people to also be hopeless romantics because it leads to these kinds of complications. She's sure Bob thought that finding out that she had apparently moved on would make Bradley get over his fear of commitment and beg her to take him back. However, what Bob failed to realize is that he could present Bradley Bradshaw with all the tools for happiness and Bradley still wouldn't release his death grip on all the baggage he let guide his bad decisions like a service animal. "Goddammit, Bob," Natasha mumbles under her breath. "Still want me to answer it?" Jake asks cheekily. His smile shines brighter than his obnoxiously loud phone as Natasha jabs the red decline button with her index finger before he does whatever he wants to do anyway. Jake tsks at her, his face twisting into a faux frown as he laments that Rooster's going to think he's ignoring him now. "Shut up," Natasha hisses. Jake doesn't get the chance to remind her that he was sleeping until the hot mess that is her love life woke him up because his phone goes off again four seconds later. Covering her eyes with her forearm, Natasha snaps at Jake to stop being a psychopath and put his goddamn phone on silent like a normal person.

[moodywyrm]

so many thoughts about basketball player!abby and her chubby gf </3 i loooove seeing abby x plus size gf it speaks to me as a plus size girly!!!!!

nonnie I literally think about this all the time. if anyone wants more basketball! abby just in general, @elskittie literally writes her soooo well. ik I rec kittie all the time, it will probably happen again.

but if we’re talking about basketball abby with a chubby girl. oh man. ohhhhhh man. so I imagine (read: know) that she is one of those buff people who just fuxking adores fat girls. thinks they’re the cutest, puts their strength to good use, loves how soft they are.

so when u and her get together? she’s head over heels from the jump man. she loves how you balance each other out. She’s hard and you’re soft, and it makes for the most heavenly cuddling on the planet. She literally can’t get enough, always has at least one hand on you at all times. and her hands!! her huge, warm, calloused hands always feel so good when she squishes ur hips. Is always kneading at some part of ur body, usually ur hips, thighs, and (if u let her) ur tummy. Loves the feel of ur soft arms around her when u hug, loves laying on ur tummy n chest when u cuddle. And that’s just your body, don’t get her started on how much she loves you and your mind and your personality, she will literally never shut up.

she defends you to the ends of the universe, anyone who is unfortunate enough to get caught talking shit about you or your relationship gets the shit scared out of them. not that many people would mess with her anyways, considering she’s 6’0 of pure muscle and one hell of a mean mug. dating her means you can wear literally whatever you want without fearing your gonna get bullied. literally the definition of “wear what u want baby, I can fight”. this is also coincides with her constant desire to show you off. she loves walking into rooms and having you at her side, telling everyone that you’re her girl and she is yours. walks around campus with so much pride, especially when you feel extra pretty n confident that day. she just fucking loves you man, and she loves seeing you feel your best. and just seeing you in general.

she especially loves when you come visit her at the end of practice. usually, your class ends around the time her practice does, and if it doesn’t you’ll hang out in the library until she’s ready to go. for a while you would hang out on the bleachers inside the gym, but abby got distracted one too many times, so you shifted to the library.

you always show up in ur lil skirts n shorts n dresses n thigh highs that squish into ur thighs, looking as beautiful as the day she met you. you wait patiently at the open doors, leaning against the doorframe n watching her as coach calls out the end of practice. immediately, she is flying towards you even if she saw you earlier in the day, a huge dorky grin on her face as she calls out your name. she always tries to hug u and u always direct her towards the locker room first bc she is such a lil stink. u do, however, give her a lil kiss before she goes off to shower. her teammates also love u, bc u have a habit of bringing them treats and they all love Abby, so they love u by extension. This also means u have an entire women’s basketball team ready to jump to your defense the second anyone starts shit.

like at parties, when straight men try to hit on you and you reject them, in which case they proceed to tell you how unattractive they think you are (which is bull, bc they were just flirting with u and anyways, you know you’re hot as hell). if Abby isn’t there to fuck them up, any of her teammates and her friends happily take up the call.

abby fucking adores her plus size girlfriend, would do literally anything for you. also loves taking you shopping and can I just say, clothes shopping with Abby Anderson would be a healing experience. Finds the best clothes, never lets you beat yourself up if something doesn’t fit, spares no expense in money or time if it means you can find clothes that fit. If you can’t find anything in store, will drop so much money making sure you can order stuff online, will sit with you while you try it all on. That surgeon’s daughter money really comes in handy when Abby wants to spoil her girl, and she always want to spoil her girl 💕

oh my god and can you imagine after a game. always gets you a court side seat, one of the many benefits of being the captain. Everytime she wins (which is almost always), she gives you the biggest hug and kiss On The Court, no matter who is looking. You are her girl and she’s gonna make sure everyone knows it. Literally picks u up, no problem, gives you a bone crushing hug every time, reveling in the feel of you and the way you praise her 💕

I’m literally so in love with her no one touch me

[francis-writes]

Modern!AU Ramsay x reader

Maybe it will be continued. For now some silly au i wrote at 1AM.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

You let out a breath. Well, meeting a kinky stranger from internet turned out to be quite a surprise, though maybe not the kind of a surprise you would enjoy.

But after all, what could you expect? You were in a rather bad mood before, so you weren't really picky while scrolling through apps, looking for a parties near or for some stranger eager to fuck you. You just hoped that non-binding, meaningless dicking down from some stranger would help you relax and cheer you up. So when you got a message from someone - 21M, signing as a master_big_dicc - you agreed to meet in two hours, even though he would probably piss you off on any other day. But, you both just wanted to fuck and he was very clear about it in his messages. He also seemed rather kinky - maybe he was just an internet dom, but he kept promising to "make you choke on him", "rip you apart with his dick", "make you crawl and beg like a filthy mutt" etc.

He gave you his address, which perhaps wasn't the safest option. But you packed a pepper gas and sent your location to friend, then left with hope for some good cock.

Now you stood in front of the house, realizing a few facts. The address you got led you to a luxurious villa which - according to the decorative plate - belonged to Roose Bolton, wealthy businessman, owner of company selling skincare products. This was the official part, but you heard that part of his money came from illegal business. If the internet stranger wasn't lying about address, it was either Roose Bolton himself (though claiming to be 21), his son Domeric or...

The door of the residence got opened and you got your answer.

Ramsay Bolton, son of Roose Bolton from some quick side fling. He moved into his father's villa just a few years ago, after being raised by his mother - in much poorer conditions, from what you heard. Well, Roose Bolton wasn't the most caring person, nor father.

You didn't know Ramsay personally, but you occasionally heard about him and his actions. Every once in a while he got arrested and freed, thanks to his father connection. From what people said, he was just typical young hooligan, drinking, getting in fights, just rich enough to get in trouble whenever he hurt someone with a knife.

Now he walked to the gate, yelling at the dogs that were jumping and howling at you since a few minutes. They obediently calmed down and ran away from the fence. You looked at Ramsay when he opened the gate for you. He was at least one head taller than you and quite bulky. You knew what to expect - he didn't sent you his face, but his profile had enough pics of his torso and dick. But you liked fat hairy guys. You were only worried if his body will be able to make you stand his personality for at least next hour.

He had wide pink lips, icy eyes, and long black hair tied in a ponytail. He wore a loose black tshirt with some metal band name on it. Ramsay looked down at you with a smirk, that seemed almost mocking.

"You're here for fucking?"

I shrugged and gave him a small smile.

"If you're master_big_dicc, then yes."

Ramsay chuckled lowly and stepped back, to let me get in.

"Come in. Don't be afraid of my bitches, i trained them well. They won't hurt you without my permission."

I walked in and he lead me through the garden to the door of the house. Without waiting, he reached his arm and grabbed my waist, keeping me close to himself.

"Well, then I hope that you won't give them that permission" i said awkwardly, trying to keep a conversation.

Ramsay just snickered again, as if i were very funny. He pushed me toward the stairs.

"Go, you will take off boots and the rest in my room" he muttered, leaning to me. "My stepmother is downstairs. I don't want her to notice you. She will keep chattering, asking if we're together and offering you cookies, and at least hour will pass before i can fuck you. And i especially didn't jerk off now, to have my dick all ready for you"

We reached his room. It was really messy, perhaps he tried to make it a bit more prepared for me but it meant just throwing all the dirty things in one place. This mess was a weird mix of some trash, cheap collections and expensive brand things. I took off my boots and sat on the bed, looking at the band posters at the wall. It was mostly metal, some punk and some posters announcing raves.

[sketchfanda]

A Little Moxxie Love:Lin's Rodeo

Never let it be said that Lin May wasn't a woman of her word,I tell you what. But right about now she had to wonder what the Anti-Christ she'd been thinking accepting her daughter's wager. Okay sure maybe call it karma coming back to bite her in the ass or someone's idea of a joke but she hadn't expected she'd lose. But here she was now, time to pay the piper as they say.

Right so context because it's key and king, it was once again time for the annual Harvest Moon festival which of course meant the farms on Wrath were in high gear for the occasion. And for the Goetia himself to grace them with his high classed presence along with his hired security entourage aka her daughter Millie and the rest of her misfit co-workers. Including that stringbean runt who somehow wound up marrying her, And Millie was especially not in any mood for her folks to be questioning her choices, not like they were ones to talk given the whole Striker fiasco. Least she could count on Sally May being civil towards him though Lin could swear there was something about the looks Millie’s sister would give their in-law but maybe she was reading too much into it.

But I digress so Millie had the bright idea to have her mom figuratively out her money where her mouth was by agreeing to a friendly little wager. That being that if Moxxie managed to do well during the harvest moon games then Lin would have to a favour of Millie’s choice and she be damned the little stringbean actually came out on top. Managing to best out Millie’s brothers and putting hi performance from last year to shame which meant it was going to be time for Lin to pay the piper. Now what was the favour she decided on you might ask?

Folks come on if you’ve all been reading this story long enough then you know what Millie chose? But to clarify, yes Millie chose that her mom should have a threesome with her and Moxxie, one night to have her man rock her world!! So here she was using the showers together with Millie at the modest little apartment that was their love nest at Imp city and the farmer gal still couldn’t believe she was still going through with this kinky nonsense. But a bet was a bet and Lin May was a woman of her word especially as this was one time thing and Joe would never know.

Far as Joe knew and the boys knew, she was just paying Millie a surprise visit in the big city, not simply because she had to pay the piper, no sir. But she could swear the look in Sally May's eyes and that smile of hers said she wasn't fooled for a second as that was neither here nor there of course. Not especially when Millie derailed her train of thought by giving her fat apple bottom heart shaped milf ass a slap, making those crimson blood red cheeks jiggle like jelly. Lin shooting her cheeky perv of a daughter a look over her shoulder as she tried to hold down how rather good that sensation had felt, seriously when had her baby girl become such a perv?

Seriously, she'd heard plenty about succubi and other sex demons here and there in Lust as well as the other circles of Hell but Millie seemed to put them to shame somehow. It was more mind boggling than the how and why she had settled down with a guy like Moxxie, okay sure he was easy on the eyes a polite city boy but come on!! But knowing Millie, part of this kinky forfeit was to prove her mama wrong on so many levels and you can bet she was going to get herself a show and some satisfaction. So as soon as the shower was off, mother and daughter stepped out to give themselves a quick dry off before wrapping their towels around their glistening wet bodies to go make some erotic magic with Millie's man.

Moxxie of course sat on the bed naked, save for a blanket covering his manhood shifting nervously and really who could blame him? He was used to Millie's peculiar little kink but seriously a threesome with her own mother? Of course his treacherous dick was already starting to swell and rise at the thought before his wife and her mom graced him with their presence, their modesty maintained only by the towels before they soon dropped them to expose their crimson red nude forms before him. His eyes widening, jaw clenched shut as his shaft was pitching a very visble tent as certain key switches began going off in his brain.

Neither he or Lin were sure when they’d started right into it but next thing either of them knew, the ranch owner milf and her daughter were kneeling on the floor giving Moxxie’s now exposed cock a double team blowjob. Taking turns licking and sucking on his length and girth to which Lin had To say, he was somehow as big of not eben bigger than her own husband!! The sight of such a prime piece of imo meat had pretty ensured any doubts or hesitation, let alone inhibition and shame went right out the damn window as she even found herself making out with Millie, their tongues dancing over the tip of the dick between them. Marking it from head to base and balls with lipstick as their pussies gushed and dribbled with nectar raining don to make growing puddles on the floor.

IT only got more intense once Lin found Moxxie grabbing their horns as he took turns giving each of them a deep, powerful facefuck. His hips jackhammering away as those heavy crimson red balls slapped and smacked their chins, making their drool splutter as his shaft became coated in a heavy coating of it. Lin feeling overwhelmed by the flood of bliss and ecstasy flooding her brain while Millie glsdly welcome this erotic assault, glowing hearts of lust tingling in her eyes as Her man once more asserted his latent alpha male skill of dominance. Knowing that it was only going to get wilder and more fun from here on in.

Which it most certainly did as she watched with mischievous pornographic delight at the sight of her mom riding Moxxie cowgirl style, fittingly enough. The MILF gasping and howling as she bounced her thicc cougar imp booty on his jackhammering shaft, making his twin rEd cheeks clap and jiggle. Before Lin soon found her daughter facing her as the kinky shortstack mounted and sat on her own husband’s face, his no doubt skilled tongue eating her out. All the whole Millie leaned forward to clasp hands tougher with her and press her lips to hers in an intimate, sloppy incest fuelled kiss.

Before !in knew it, she found herself being out through a veritable erotic montage of positions and combinations shifting from one on one to two on one, the former being for when one of them needed to recover and catch their breaths. For a stringbean looking runt, Moxxie had more stamina than some of the beasts back on the ranch! To say nothing of how it felt having Millie eat her out as Moxxie fucked her missionary or her eating Millie out as the secret stud fucked her doggy style. Now her sex life with Joe wasn’t vanilla by any means, after all look how many kids she’s had with the man.

But Christ on a stick was it any wonder Millie seemed to pimp her own man out and have him try to sow wild oats like he was a hell horse being out out to stud? An alpha male like this was too much for one woman to handle so of course why wouldn’t Millie have the kink she does, let alone figure her mom should have a taste? So of course Lin found herself experiencing a whole different level of paradise that she hoped wouldn’t make her too much of an addict. Wouldn’t want Moxxie feeling like he was becoming a homewrecker after all.

Of course with the kind of life and work he lead, Joe wouldn’t be around forever, so who knows if maybe Moxxie was more than willing to provide relief and comfort to his lowly widow of a mother in law? But of course the future was a distant thing and it was just a an idea that came to mind, as Lin found herself laying together in the messed up, sweat and juice stained bed with him and Millie as they basked in the afterglow. The warm light of sunrise brightening up the room after a wild night of a kinky passionate three way that the farm milf was certainly not going to forget for a good while. No doubt just as Millie had planned, the crafty naughty girl….

That was certainly on her mind as she later took the train ride home, that is after a very filing breakfast of waffles after another quick round of fucking. That stud of Millie’s really got some major morning wood that was for sure. Far as Joe and the boys knew, it was just a simple little visit to the city and some bonding time with Millie and her man but as said, given the look Sallie May was giving her? She knew damn well what has happened and it made the girl look forward to her own future visit to the big city, and how sweet it would be….

[shimmerbeasts]

Stalking The Wounded Dog

Following Vi had been a thing of ease.

When an animal was wounded enough, it usually tried to find refuge in some secluded spot where it could bleed out in peace and safe from the leering eyes of predators. Not Vi though. Vi chose to take her wounds and wear them like black paint on her skin, presenting herself for all the leering predators and their salivating jaws as if she was daring them to rip her apart.

While Jinx apparently made a mockery of Zaun's animalism by becoming more than a predator, Vi made a mockery of her heritage by turning her role in the natural order inside out. Vi had not filed down her fangs and claws as Jinx had feared. She had done something worse. She had traded those weapons for bucking hooves and piercing horns. She had made herself a wounded prey animal and she fought with the fear of death against everybody in that ring.

The air in the hall of the underground fighting ring was stale and dusty. The sickly pale green light of lamps installed in the ceiling reminded Jinx of Zaun. Funny how that worked. Ever since her rocket, it seemed some of her home's violence had spilt over into perfect Piltover. The floor had been busted open to expose the rot underneath.

The hall was packed. A sea of people from the lower houses and classes of Piltover. Enforcers, cobblers, traders. All those, who did not have enough money to live in a house of marble and gold. Jinx thought she could even catch sight of the leering, leathery hides of Zaunites with their flashing fangs, rolling tongues and clicking claws. She let herself be pushed forth by the maelstrom, cocooned in a simple greyish-brown hood to conceal her telltale blue bangs and startling purple eyes. The visitors were creating a pooling river from the betting stands over towards the edges of the arena where you could look inside.

Jinx finally reached the betting stand. In a swing sat a yordle with grey skin and sunken, green eyes; his fat, little body was practically trapped in an ugly, bright yellow jacket. Jinx wondered idly if his guts would spill coins as she watched him munch on a few tentacles, riddled with grittle.

"Yes?", he asked.

"Red betting cards", Jinx ordered, her voice quiet and hoarse. She rummaged in her cloak in search of her coin purse and asked idly: "Is it possible to meet the young upstart post-stage?"

The yordle let out a throaty laugh, spit flying in Jinx's face. She remained unmoving, though her nostrils twitched and her lips pulled down.

"You are a fan of our young upstart, eh?", the ringleader said with a slimy grin on his round, bat-like face, "Can see why. That crazy butch has been wiping the competition left and right since she started here. Brought in a nice sum of money."

"In a manner of speaking", Jinx answered the question, "Now can you arrange this or not?"

The yordle shook his head and said: "Sorry, cutie, but normally, we don't do behind-the-scenes meetings. Though maybe I make an exception for you, sweetie. Go all in with something that is worth it. If our violent panther wins, you are free to meet her."

Jinx reached under her cloak again and procured her Zapper pistol. The yordle's eyes went wide. He called: "Oh, that's a fancy gadget you got there, cutie. All in then?" Jinx slammed Zapper on the wood and shoved him in the direction of the yordle. Her voice was like ice as she said: "All in."

The crowd was in uproar as the beginning of the first match drew nearer. Jinx let herself be manoeuvred closer to the edge of the pit. Standing between two other burly men, who almost obscured her from view, a single purple eye stared down at the pit, burning with fever.

The ring leader's voice came over a speaker as he shouted: "Good evening lads and lassies! Welcome to the first round of Piltover's Boxing League! Today we have an exciting match for y'all! Are you ready?" The crowd cheered, whooped and stomped their feet. "In the right corner, we have our defender of the golden belt! Last year's champion! You know him, you love him! Give it up for Thundering Thomas!"

Under a loud roar, a large, muscular man a good two times Vi's size came running into the ring. He only wore a pair of shorts, adorned with the aforementioned golden belt, a heavy leather item, adorned with a giant golden buckle. He had pale blond hair, which looked like he had been struck by lightning once, judging by how weirdly jagged it sat on his head. The man pounded his chest, roaring as loudly as possible while the crowd cheered him on.

Jinx stayed silent, though as the part of the announcement, she was actually here for, came through, she grinned wily. "And in the left corner, we have his challenger! You were just as surprised by her upstart as I was! Give a hearty welcome to the newest and most vicious member of our ring! Don't let her claws hit you. Here is Tigress!"

Excited thrills and whistles could be heard. Someone very drunk in the back row yelled: "Please go out with me!" Jinx gave a derisive snort, however, she gave a hearty clap, her rhythm a similar pattern to the slow clap, Silco had done in the cannery so many years ago. As the yordle prepared to bang the gong, shouting for bets, Jinx merely raised her hand with cold confidence, flashing one of the few red cards in the entire room. She fell silent, purple gaze locked exclusively on Vi as the gong rang in her ears.

@ferinehuntress

[thekats]

Nothing to bring you back down just as you're clawing your way out of a hole like a good old-fashioned realisation that you still have a ways to go to deconstruct oppressive systems that were planted in your brain at the ripe age of "no thoughts yet".

(Very long post on internalised fatphobia below)

I've been working hard to deconstruct internalised fatphobia (among other things). I've been trying every which way to love and find the beauty in my own shape ('average' weight, curvy build). I've been gently inserting and steering conversation to the best of my abilities towards body positivity. I've been reprimanding friends and family for repeating tropes and notions. And strike me with lightning right now if I don't love bigger bodies. On other people.

And I've been fighting that last tidbit so hard for so long. I like to think that if I were, truly, fat, I'd embrace it, but that I'm so insecure right now bc I'm this weird in-between where, if I show off my body, people will think I think I'm thin enough to fit the beauty standard (I am not). Me wearing a crop top does not feel like a statement so much as it feels like I'm petulantly trying to make people see that "I AM thin!!!!!" My belly isn't flat. My belly isn't toned. I'm so used to sucking it in that I've developed this weird issue where I frequently fully forget to breathe.

I am a binge eater. I've been fighting that for a very long time as well. I also have (now hopefully permanently dormant) hyperthyroidism and currently no-money-itis. I default to around 80kg give or take at a whopping 1,78m height. I'm the average's average, it seems like. And I honestly can't tell anymore if my issues with my body fat are because society and bullying have destroyed my perception of myself so much that I'm seeing things in the mirror, or if I just genuinely hate myself and the social consequences of fatness so much that I have to obsessively criticise every lump and bump on my bones. Or maybe I'm just that obsessed with clinging to every bit of control I think I have left in my life? I am not fat; I know that. I do not experience the daily struggles of fat people; I know that. Trust me, my mum is fat and has been my entire life. I know.

But when a work colleague asked me today if I'd lost weight, I was instantly sent into a shutdown, at work (luckily my shift today is working solo, but I still have to interact with people), because I had too many reactions all at once. None of them was pride.

You see, I've been battling with myself for weeks now if I can wear a crop top to my local pride event this year. I've worn a crop top for the first time in probably a decade only a few weeks ago and I felt great, sexy, comfortable, until I sat down with my very thin friend at an ice cream parlour. It had been my idea and my treat bc I hadn't "spoiled" myself to ice cream in a looong time when it is one of my favourite foods. The ice cream was good, the weather was warm, and there were people who were barely paying us attention but simultaneously seemed to be staring me into becoming a black hole. And I know paranoia is another one of my issues, but you can't deny the fact that people love to stare especially at those they consider in any way "unsightly". I felt like they must have considered me unsightly. Particularly when my friend is all thin and flat and narrow, even when sitting down, she's conventionally attractive and gets hit on. I get hit on, too, but I don't see that in those moments. I remarked proudly that day "I am wearing a crop top!" and she answered "I am wearing a crop top, too." It made me angry because, I thought, "Yes, but your thinness is not policed like my potentially perceived thickness." Neither her nor I have any actual say in our weights. She can't gain, I can neither gain nor lose. That's okay. It really really is. For other people.

I've seen so many beautiful fat queers at pride events over the years. I am not them. I cannot be them because I am not fat. So I still don't know if I can wear a crop top to my local pride event this year because it won't look like a statement. It will look like a desperate plea to be considered thin.

Another big thing my mind cycled through so very instinctual was "if my colleague noticed me losing weight and I have such issues with how 'big' I look now, then how big must I have been the last time she saw me? And I didn't even realise? How big am I now without realising it?!" Mind you, I've lost this incredibly huge amount of 4kg in however-many months /s. Yes, I can do my belt tighter by one, but scrunches up the waist of my trousers and it's uncomfortable/overstimulating, making me suck in my belly even more than I'm already trying not to do. But there's no change for my colleague to see, really. There shouldn't be.

The last big thing that went through my mind at the question was a mix of anger and frustration. Anger because why? Why would you comment on my weight? Why is that a thing you do? Just why? And frustration because it was 7am, I was already entering the shutdown and so had 0 energy to get into my spiel about why she shouldn't be asking that, why she shouldn't comment on that and why she is playing into the whole systematic- I just said "I don't know, maybe, I don't care."

"I don't care."

For two hours now and for the rest of the day at least, I have felt and will continue to feel shame. Not because I lied. I'm a high-ranking autistic who desperately wants to be an actor. I lie all the time. Being me is the biggest, most intricately detailed role I will play in my entire life. No, I am ashamed because

clearly

I do care. So much.

I've done all this work for years and I still fall short of my own damn self.

But, without wanting to turn this into a bs forced-positivity ✨keep going and everything will be alright✨ kind of inspo-post, I won't back down because of this. I feel deflated, disappointed, deterred. But not defeated.

Setbacks are normal.

Society is a sneaky snake and the roots of those seeds it plants run deep. You probably don't need a white person to tell you this (or maybe you do, but that's another, very frustrating topic), but you won't dismantle all this shit you want to fight within yourself in a year. Not when it's been growing inside you your whole life. And you will hit walls. In others. In society. In yourself. If nothing else can motivate you to stick with it, let pettiness do that job for you. Society right now is still fucked. It will stay fucked for both our lifetimes. Show it the middle finger. Be part of the change for generations to come.

Just because we have to suffer now, doesn't mean everyone has to suffer in generations to come.

This goes for all intersectional matters ever.

[therealieblog]

Soft Dieting

I had to boot someone from my Intuitive Eating group yesterday for promoting when I’m going to call “soft dieting”. 

She hailed herself as an Intuitive Eating coach, and promised to help people “stop obsessing over food and fitness.” 

There were red flags of course. I watched a Ted Talk she did, which was actually fantastic. It was all about fatphobia and how it intersects with social justice. How some people just don’t have access to healthy food or expensive gyms and how we have to look at our attitudes toward health and fatness. All really good stuff. 

Except in the group, she keeps posting, encouraging people to participate in “healthy behaviors outside of weight”. OK. Fine. The thing is, there are red flags. 

1. During her Ted Talk, she discussed how she used to be obsessed with dieting and weight loss. But how she got over that, and learned to love herself and stopped restricting. Only she’s still thin. So, you were starving yourself for years, and then you stopped starving yourself, and your body stayed at the same exact weight? Maybe she put on five pounds, but when I hear about someone having severe issues with eating, then stopping the behaviors that were keeping them at a low weight, and then they stay at a low weight.... I doubt that they actually did give up dieting. 

2. She looks perfect. From her perfect hair to her perfect makeup, perfect clothes. Her photo is on her blog. She needs people to know how attractive she is as a sales technique, and I seriously doubt she’s somehow sloughed off society’s expectations of her looks if she still looks like a model. 

3. The emphasis on “healthy behaviors”. I get it. We can all pursue health without dieting. I agree with that. But if you’re claiming to be over healthism, why do you keep talking about it? Why are you posting lists of “healthy activities that don’t involve food.” that include the amount of water you should drink in a day, the hours of movement you should aim for. If you use numbers in your advice about health, you’re still stuck in healthism. You still believe that a certain amount of exercise/sunlight/water etc. is optimal and promotes health. 

She needs to learn that everyone is different, and that when you’re in a group full of people who’ve just stopped dieting, or who are still trying to break free of dieting, this focus on gently pursuing health by telling people they should drink this much water, or get at least this much movement per day, is pretty damaging. 

These issues are so subtle, and I don’t expect anyone who even has a toe in diet culture to understand, but we are all free to pursue health in our own way, or to NOT PURSUE HEALTH AT ALL. The not at all part clearly didn’t sit well with her. She clearly still thinks that in order to be good, you need to be pursuing health. He whole business is built on it. Because if you aren’t promoting health, then you have no business. There’s nothing to sell. There’s very little money in “Take a walk if that makes you happy, and if you don’t like walking, just... don’t.” And way more money in “you should really be doing *something* for your health at all times, even if it’s gentle and subtle”

Anyhoo. I’ll get down off my soap box, but I really wanted to talk about how deeply insidious this “Soft Dieting” is for a community of people trying to dismantle diet culture. How swiftly it can nose dive back into dieting behaviors as you worry that you haven’t moved enough, or drank enough water to be considered healthy. Don’t fall for it. You do what’s best for your body, regardless of the opinions of fake IE blogs. 

[ollieofthebeholder]

to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic

<< Beginning < Prev. || AO3

Chapter 33: August 2000

This will be the third year in the row they’ve done this, but the first they don’t have to sneak away to do it. Not that there’s anything wrong with where they’re going, exactly, except that they probably aren’t technically old enough to do this on their own, but the bigger issue is Gerard doesn’t usually ask his mother for the money ahead of time. She hasn’t noticed yet—or said anything if she has—but it’s still a risk. Honestly, that adds to the thrill of it.

But he doesn’t have to this year. He’s developed a knack for spotting rare books that aren’t…the sort his mother trades in…and discovered, to his mild surprise, that he’s also quite good at selling them at a profit, and he’s saved up enough that he doesn’t have to rob the till to make up the difference. So this year, rather than stay out all night the night before and meet Melanie and Martin once they’ve found a suitable excuse to slip out and join him, Gerard boldly knocks on the door of the house they’ve all been living in for the last year, and when Uncle Roger answers with a benevolent smile, he asks if Martin and Melanie can come with him for the day.

“Yes, I think you’re old enough to be responsible,” Uncle Roger says, which Gerard tries very hard not to resent, and lets him in to go get the other two.

An hour later they’re ensconced in a compartment on a train, breathless with laughter and also a little bit of exertion, considering they cut it pretty close and only just made it onto the 8:58 before it pulled out of the station, but that’s part of the fun of it. Gerard leans back in his seat and takes a moment to study Martin and Melanie—he and his mother have been out of the country for the last three months, so he hasn’t seen them. Melanie’s hair has grown out long enough that it brushes her shoulders, but she’s cut her bangs into a rather flattering asymmetrical sweep across her brow, and she’s had her ears pierced. Martin has new glasses, the lenses thicker than last year’s, and he’s switched from plastic to steel rims, but the eyes behind them sparkle with delight. They’ve obviously been spending a lot of time outside in the sun—Melanie’s neck and shoulders are reddish-pink and Martin’s face is so freckled you almost can’t see the skin underneath—and they look…good.

At the same time, there’s something a little off about both of them, and Gerard can’t figure out exactly what it is.

“Are you going to tell us where we’re going this year?” Martin asks. “Or is it a surprise?”

“Liverpool,” Gerard says. Martin’s face lights up. “So we’ve got a bit under three hours to catch up. I want to hear what you two have been up to while I’ve been gone.”

Melanie immediately launches into a description of exams and end-of-term parties, of imaginary games played in Regent’s Park and hidden corners of London explored. Martin nods along and occasionally puts in a word here or there, but doesn’t contribute until Melanie prompts him and he shyly admits he’s started learning to row.

“I thought it might…you know. Help,” he says, gesturing at his body. “But it’s not.”

“You’re not built like that.” Gerard’s education has been more skewed towards the esoteric and the paranormal than the practical, so it’s not like he has scientific knowledge to back him up, but the fact of the matter is that Martin has always been, not to put too fine a point on it, fat. He doesn’t overeat—he doesn’t starve himself, either, Melanie and Gerard won’t let him—and he’s walked more of the city than the other two put together. He’s also strong for his age, frequently hauling boxes of books around the shop for Gerard’s mother and lifting both Melanie and Gerard up to high places with hardly a thought, and now the rowing. But he’s still fat, so as far as Gerard is concerned, that’s how he’s made and that’s how he’s going to stay. Either that or he’s going to be twelve feet tall by the time he’s sixteen. He also knows it doesn’t usually bother Martin unduly that he is fat. “Has your mum been giving you crap about it again?”

“Maybe a little,” Martin admits. “I do enjoy rowing, though. I’m good at it. And it’s…nice to be good at something that isn’t…that.”

The temperature in their compartment drops a couple of degrees. Gerard’s stomach lurches as he realizes that Martin and Melanie have talked about everything but the shop. It’s not open quite the same number of hours when Gerard and his mother are out of town, but Aunt Lily is still there twice a week, and it being summer Martin at least has almost surely been helping, but Melanie didn’t mention it and neither has Martin.

“Have you…found any more of…his books?” Gerard can’t bring himself to say Jurgen Leitner’s name. His hatred and resentment of the man, and his books, have been growing steadily over the past few years. “Or books of power?”

“N-no,” Martin says, but there’s something uncertain in his voice. Gerard looks at him until he caves and admits, “Not books.”

Gerard’s stomach does another somersault. “What happened?”

Martin takes a deep breath. “I—it was a person. At the end of term concert, someone bumped into me and my glasses fell off, and I—when I looked up, I-I swear I didn’t mean to, but I saw—h-he was, he’d been touched. And then he came to the shop a couple weeks later, a-and he recognized me.” He rubs his cheek in a seemingly unconscious gesture. “He had a book to sell and, and he asked if getting rid of it would make everything stop, and he got so mad when I said I didn’t know…”

“It—it probably won’t, but—that’s not your fault,” Gerard stammers, staring at Martin. “Wait, what do you mean you could see he’d been touched?”

Martin blinks at Gerard. “I mean he had the same…like the books. It’s, the books aren’t magic, Gerry, they’re just…full of the Fourteen. That’s what I see when I look at them. I thought you knew that.”

“I guess it just never occurred to me.” Gerard looks at Melanie. “Did you know that?”

Melanie frowns at him. “Yes? I’ve known that since we had our eye exams at school last year and he told me to mind my manners because the bloke doing them had something to do with the Flesh.”

Gerard turns back to Martin. “How could you tell that?”

“They’re all different colors,” Martin says. What of his skin isn’t freckled turns pink. “S-sorry, I—I forget sometimes you two can’t see them too. The, the touches or—I don’t know what to call them.”

Melanie folds her arms over her chest. “I’ve tried. I can’t make myself see them. You think there’s like a carrot or something that makes it easier to see that the Fears have been somewhere?”

“That’s a myth. The whole thing about carrots making your eyesight better, I mean.”

Gerard nods, but doesn’t tell Melanie the truth—that she doesn’t want Martin’s ability. It’s been bestowed upon him by the Ceaseless Watcher, and gifts from the Fourteen always come with strings attached, really nasty ones usually. At this point, the best he can do is just protect his brother and sister as much as he can and hope nothing ever pulls on those strings.

“Are they at least nice colors?” Melanie asks, slumping down in her seat so she can prop her feet on the cushions opposite. “I mean, as much as anything about the Fears can be nice.”

“They’re not…awful,” Martin says slowly. “Well, the Corruption is kind of a nasty shade, but…”

All right, Gerard has to admit he’s curious. He checks to make sure the compartment door is shut. “How’d you figure out what colors were what?”

“Aunt Mary always tells Mum what Fear the books belong to, so I figured it out that way.”

“Which one’s your favorite?” Melanie asks. Gerard shoots her a filthy look and she sticks her tongue out at him. “Look, if he has to see bright glowing colors of things that hate us, at least there must be one that doesn’t suck to look at.”

“The Lonely isn’t too bad,” Martin says softly. “It’s grey, and it’s…softer, I guess? It doesn’t glow as bright.”

“There’s a shocker,” Gerard mutters. He pats down the pockets of his oversized leather trench coat—he’ll grow into it eventually, he hopes—and comes up with a stub of a pencil and a crumpled bit of paper. It’s better than nothing, so he smooths it out on his knee. “Right, let’s get these written down.”

He prints the names of all fourteen Fears in a neat list, then writes GREY next to LONELY before winking at Martin. “I know you know them all already, but just in case one of us starts seeing them too. And I kind of want to start integrating them into my art, if that’s okay.”

Martin brightens a bit. “That’d be cool.”

“What was the first one you figured out?”

“The Web, only ‘cause Aunt Mary said that book I found at Bergen’s that first time was the Web, and I remembered it. It’s purple…a royal purple, like the ribbons Mum had tied around her bouquet at the wedding.” Martin waits for Gerard to write that down. “Then the End—that one’s easy because of the Book. It’s white.”

“Is the Dark black?” Melanie asks. “Or is that too obvious?”

“Um, it’s kind of a very dark blue. It’s almost black, but not quite. Not like the Vast, that’s a brighter blue like the sky.” Martin screws up his face like he’s trying to remember. “The Slaughter’s red, really bright red, like blood. The Desolation is orange like fire, and the Hunt is, it’s somewhere in between? It’s hard to explain. I get it mixed up with the Slaughter sometimes,    but I can usually tell after a while.”

“Slow down, slow down, I can’t write that fast.” Gerard presses the paper to the door in hopes of getting better leverage with the paper. After a moment he says, “Okay, got it so far. What have we got left?”

“The Stranger, the Buried, the Flesh, the Corruption, the Spiral, and the Eye,” Melanie says promptly. “You said the Corruption was nasty?”

Martin makes a face. “Yeah. It’s this…it’s like snot, o-or pus. Kind of a yellowish-green. It, it looks sick. The Flesh is pink, but it’s pink like salmon mousse is pink. Not like, like roses or whatever.”

“Makes sense,” Gerard mutters. He pauses as the train rattles over a point, then finishes the word PINK. “The Buried?”

“Brown—well, kind of a brownish-tan really. The Spiral is yellow. A really bright yellow, most times. It hurts my eyes.” Martin looks down at his hands. “The Stranger, um, I’m not sure about that one, actually. I-I don’t think Aunt Mary has any books from the Stranger? I’ve kind of been looking, but…”

Gerard scowls, but not at Martin. “Don’t invite that sort of thing into your life, Martin. If you ever see something that’s the Stranger, you’ll know because it’s not the same color as the others.” He draws a question mark next to STRANGER. “That just leaves…the Ceaseless Watcher.”

“Green,” Martin says promptly. “The same color as the stones in those earrings of your mum’s, and my mum’s wedding ring.”

Gerard finishes writing and smooths out the list against his knee. “Okay. I think I’ve got them all.” He contemplates the list. “Honestly, except for the Corruption, this doesn’t look too bad. If you didn’t know what they were, it’d be almost…pretty.”

“Like those recordings they show people in Soylent Green just before they recycle them into food bars,” Melanie mutters. “Too bad I can’t just stop wearing all those colors as a fuck-you to the Fourteen.”

Martin laughs. It sounds a little forced to Gerard. “They wouldn’t be so bad, maybe, if they didn’t glow. But I’m not kidding, they hurt my eyes sometimes. Especially when…I dunno if some books are stronger than others, but sometimes it’s bright.” He touches his glasses lightly. “I wonder if that’s why I keep needing thicker glasses. Because looking at the light from the Fears hurts my regular eyes.”

“I don’t think it works that way.” Gerard isn’t actually sure about that, but he speaks with authority anyway. “Like you said, you’re not looking with, well, your regular eyes. They’re probably going…dormant or something when you’re Looking. If you need thicker glasses, it’s just because your eyes are changing, but that happens with loads of people.”

Melanie cocks her head at Gerard. “So you’re saying he’s fine? That he’s not eventually going to, I dunno, get to the point where his mortal eyes don’t work anymore and the only way he can see is to navigate by the glow of the Fourteen and hope there’s nothing around that hasn’t been touched by them in some way for him to run into?”

She’s too smart for her own damn good, Gerard thinks, and the picture she paints is a bleak one that is, unfortunately, all too possible. He’s hoping it won’t get that far, though, since they know what’s going on and can take steps to mitigate the damage, so he fixes her with what he hopes is a withering glare. “Who ever heard of something like that?”

“Isn’t that the entire plot of Daredevil?” Melanie shoots back.

The conversation derails from there into a spirited debate on whether the Fears exist in the comic book universe and whether Matt Murdock belongs to the Beholding or the Corruption, and by the time the conductor announces they’re pulling into Lime Street Station, Martin and Melanie have gone back to being excited about their day trip. Gerard hasn’t forgotten about the talk about Martin’s eyes, though, and he vows to himself that he’s going to look into it, that he’s going to find out how much danger Martin is actually in from his ability and what it might mean for him, and for the rest of them.

Not today, though. Today he’s going to enjoy the day out and hope like hell they don’t run into anything more dangerous than a persistent seagull.

“Come on, birthday boy,” he says, looping his arm through Martin’s and nodding for Melanie to do the same on the other side. “Where do you want to start off?”

[nevermindtheweights]

The depths of Natsuki - To Pandaemonium.

Looking in the mirror, Natsuki honestly disliked what she saw.

She was so fucking fat now.

That was the main thing. Stood there, she witnessed as her now girthy size.

You're so fucking fat. Look at you. you don't even fit in the mirror dimension, you fat sack of shit. You're an engorged idiot and worst still? You cannot fucking stop can you?

Natsuki groaned as her mental voice rumbled to life again. She couldn't stop these thoughts. As much as she tried, she always felt them nagging at her whenever the topic of her visage came up in private. In the public, Natsuki could deflect and even, for a moment, embrace it. Wear the words like armour and they shall never hurt you and all that. It worked. Take on an aggressive stance, be brash, cranky and rude and it tended to make sure no-one got close and no-one could get under her armour.

Yet, she couldn't lie to herself. Never fully. One could not be impulsive to theirself. It was in that lonely place, where it was just her and herself, would that voice speak.

It spoke true too. She was really fat now. So fat she often needed to custom-order anything she wanted to wear. So fat she spent so much money on just keeping herself sated least her body protest and annoy her so much she give in anyways. So fat that she had long since given up on trying to control herself.

Why bother? She didn't really consider that option. One thing she did agree with the voice was that she didn't even really want to stop. Hands pressed against her stomach. Once dainty hands now fattened and sausage-like against the doughy expanse of a stomach that was once concave. In her mind's eye, she could see that waif of a girl. Once she had stood before this bedroom mirror.

The voice then had always been harsh too. Spoke harsh and horrid things that claimed she deserved this. That she was a waste of space and effort and that she shouldn't even be here. She hated it then too. But back then, it spoke with so much power. It kept her like that. Tiny and weak... Now look at her. Bigger now, older too. Yet, it still remained. It still spoke words that were a venomous truth to her. Not that she wanted to fight it either. Whatever fight had long since been crushed since she was such a weak and pathetic girl that should just die.

She winced and withdrew her hands off her vast plush gut. They moved to tug at her shirt. Plain white with a picture of a pink cartoon cat face.... It fit over her enough, though her stomach hung out of the bottom of it like a thick pale rubber ring like she used to use at the pool. When had she even had anything that had fit? Everything had either been too big then or too small now...

Her stomach rumbled.

Hear that, you fat cow? You're hungry. AGAIN. You eat too much. You're pathetic. You have no willpower to stop, you pathetic waste of space.

There it was again.... Scolding her. Making her feel small again. It hit hard, she could already feel the tears in her eyes. Not from the pain of the words but the sadness of disappointment and that of rage at the voice, that lingering voice that made anytime she looked in the mirror a feel of hellish persecution by her mind. Worse still was that feeling it was not only speaking truth but that she deserved it. That the voice was correct to do all this, her punishment for the weight of her sins.

For that thing she did.

That thing that freed her and yet forever bound her to this prison of the voice and nihilism.

....

She was not going there.

Not now.

She sighed and turned away from the mirror, her eyes catching the notable wobble to her... everything. Disgust welling within her gut like the pit of hunger that drove her towards her kitchen.

"Whatever... I just want something sweet..." She grumbled to herself, focused on finding something to eat while the voice ebbed back to her mind as if sitting back, proud in being so correct....

It only made her want to eat more. What else was she even good for if not... eating?

[lexa-griffins]

I love how passionate you got when you talked about milf Lexa 🥰

Let's start with the basics. How did Lexa meet her ex and what happened?

I love Milf Lexa a very very normal amount I swear!!!!! (she says, vibrating at a frequency that could shatter glass).

Alright, so Lexa and her ex Jennifer (or Jenny how everyone calls her. I envision her as Katheryn Winnick) met back in college. Lexa got a massive crush on her and once Jenny realized the cute sorority girl was into her, she asked her out and soon enough they were dating. For Lexa, it was a complete fairytale, Jenny was charming and the funny type of sarcastic, the bad girl type that can still win over the parents. She just didn't know Jenny she was just going with the flow. She found Lexa insanely hot and a cool girl to hang around and she did care for her but she was never really as in love as Lexa was. And then they got an apartment together on their last year of college and they shared the bills and it was fairly comfortable for Jenny so she stayed. And then Lexa proposed and she said yes. For Lexa this was everything she ever imagined her life turning out like. They got married at 23 and then Lexa asked about kids and about three years later Lexa was pregnant with Alex and then he was born.

And then things shifted. Jenny clearly loved their son, that wasn't a question, but she did not seem to want to do any of the hard lifting, meaning she'd get the giggles and the laughs while Lexa dealt with meltdowns and colic and blown out diapers. And then the comments. Suddenly Lexa was not putting an effort in their relationship, she was giving the baby all the attention, they hadn't had sex since before Alex was born and Jenny would make comments about how Lexa had stopped taking care of herself - as if Lexa wasn't already having a hard time dealing going from a fit young adult to now having a softer body and no time to work out. Things got better when Alex turned one. Date nights become a thing again, they started having sex more and Lexa had managed to get fitter again, definitely not how she was pre-baby but she was feeling like herself again.

Around this time, Jenny started talking to other women. Lexa though they were doing so good now and then she found her messaging a girl from work, nothing ever happened but there was definitely some emotional cheating. And then, after a talk, Lexa suggests what she now realizes was selfish and not the time for it but what she thought could save their marriage: another baby.

And it worked... for nine months. Lexa really felt like they were gonna go back to being a happy family once their daughter arrived, Jenny was so loving towards her, answering to Lexa's every whim, taking such good care of their little boy. Delilah was born via c-section and the day Lexa bought her home was the day she knew their marriage was over. She was in the hospital for four days and everything inside the house was at it had been when she left it when her water broke, not a single dish washed, nothing. Their bed was still unmade and when Lexa sat down to rest a little she was woken up not ten minutes after by her crying newborn being shoved into her arms for a diaper change 'cause Jenny was too busy building a lego tower with Alex.

Delilah was one when Lexa broke it off. She just couldn't take anymore comments about how she let herself go and gotten "fat", how gross it was for Jenny to see her c-section scar, how noisy the kids were all the time, and how everything was always Lexa's fault. And yes, she did still blame Lexa for being the one to break their marriage up. Lexa won main custody as Jenny up and left to another state with the kids spending one weekend at Jenny's house once a month, where they usually have the time of their lives with the fun mom who takes them to do cool stuff Lexa never has the money, energy or time for - and Delilah, who doesn't even remember a time when her moms were together and doesn't understand fully what went down, tends to comment how everything Jenny does for them is so much cooler than Lexa does, down to the cooking.

After going through this, Lexa doesn't really feel like giving love a second try. It was painful the first time around and Clarke is so young she can't imagine her not getting bored of her the same way Jenny did. :c my poor baby

[johannestevans]

while I do agree to this on a broad scale, I often say that many cis straight women aren't actually attracted to men, and/or are so repressed in their desire for men (often out of genuine and understandable fear for their safety) that they desire a very particular and sanitised man's body

like just thinking about the disgust many people automatically have for body hair, especially chest and back hair, that's one thing but like

i was talking to my bf recently about the desexualised view many cis women have of fat men, and how not only is a fat man supposedly "lower" on the atttractiveness scale, but the assumption is that he will want to have less sex and be a better husband because of that

whether it's because he's too lazy, or most of all because he's going to be "grateful" that someone wants him - and thinking of him in terms of how soft and cuddly he is, which aren't in themselves insults, but are often removed from finding his body sexually appealing or desirable

it's difficult to nail down bc many cishet women literally repress their sexual desires for men BECAUSE like. how can they be safely attracted to someone who might do them harm, living in a society that is primed for and biased toward sexual violence by men toward women? how can they safely explore their sexuality without shame when any sexual feeling is policed as slutty, or can be used as evidence against them?

sexual attraction to men can be a distraction from the important things in a relationship - is he safe and nonviolent? is he kind? is he thoughtful? does he see you, a woman, as a human person? will be be a good father? would he treat your daughters as well as sons? will be do his share of domestic labour? does he earn enough money?

i'm not saying ANY of those things are shallow to desire in a partner, bc imo, esp for people who consider marriage as a vehicle to impress their family and have children, they're not.

the message for so long has been that sex is to have children, and also something that men desire and that women have to give men to keep them happy. it's considered by many an act by men done to women.

women who desire sex on their terms are often slut-shamed and treated as impure or immoral, but are also intimidating to many misogynstic men who ALSO desire an object acted upon, and think that most men in a relationship must be interchangeable

many straight men assume that outside of the gigachad alpha with mega muscles, all other men are interchangeable based off of how much income he makes or basically how much he can manipulate or "trick" a woman into loving him

whereas many straight women are basically looking for a man who will abuse her least and make her life the least difficult if she marries him. the number of ppl i talk to where i'm literally just "DUMP THEM" bc their standards for how they should be treated and how they should Feel in a relationship are just so low KILLS me

many women struggle to find men who tick half of those boxes, let alone who are also good in bed - things have REALLY been changing in the past 20 years in terms of sexual liberation imo, and I do think things are a bit different now and are slowly developing in a better direction for women who're attracted to men

but like... when i talk to straight women about what they find attractive in men, and they're like, the offline women who I DON'T meet in queer and kink spaces, a lot of them won't mention physical characteristics at all, but like

when they do mention physical characteristics, it's often about emotional connection - things that make her feel safe or cared for or cuddled etc - more than like. stuff that makes her horny or want to fuck?

WHICH IS OKAY, i'm not at all shaming that, but what I'm saying is that for many women thinking about what makes them horny can be hard bc like... even now, in the 21st century, after Sex and the City and Skins and countless other portrayals of sexuality, some straight women genuinely believe that like. sexual desire and libido is a myth, bc they haven't experienced it or have repressed it so hard

some of those women might actually be asexual! some of them might be gay, or otherwise not attracted to men. some of them might be sexually traumatised in a way that makes that sexuality hard to get in touch with (I'm saying this as a rape victim who had a similar experience). some of them might be dysphoric or having issues with their hormones.

but a lot of straight women who ARE theoretically attracted to men like... don't masturbate and wouldn't know where to start, and many have never experienced an orgasm.

esp given how broadly acceptable for cishet boys to be wanking from a young age and figuring out as soon as they start wanking what makes them horny, either because it makes them hard or gets them to come faster, like... for many cishet girls, bc masturbation is so unthinkable and doesn't seem like an option to them, has next to no film or TV representation (esp references to young or teen girls doing it in the same healthy way boys do), like? as older teens, as adults, some of the first times they find themselves touched will be by men they're having sex with

how do you have any basis for comparison when you don't know what your own body enjoys and craves? when your options to experiment and your explore your own sexuality are so caged and shamed, it's really HARD to think about what you're actually attracted to outside of the abstract

it's just fucked bc like. inceldom is very much a part of the rightwing white cishet male fascist pipeline, which is why it's such a funnel toward rightwing terrorism and also violent misogyny, esp around like... all men should be "given" a wife, etc

but even without those men who are into extremism, many average straight people other the other gender so much, and dehumanise them to such an extent

straight men seeing women as sex objects that will treat them as one of their kids once they're married, who will do all of the domestic labour and make it so they don't have to think about their own household or organisational stuff

straight women seeing men as necessary evils who will be weights around their necks and making much of their domestic labour harder, who have to be tamed or kept quiet by "giving them" sex

and it's like... how do you fix that? how do individuals navigate and try to throw off those expectations when a lot of society is really attached to those ideas, and is also so aggressively opposed to any kind of sexuality for women on their own terms? how do you actually talk about what's sexually attractive in someone when your idea of the sexually desirable is so divorced from your own feelings on a physical level?

I think there's a real tragedy in the way straight men don't see themselves the same way that people who are attracted to men see them. If you ask a straight man to describe what an attractive man looks like, there's very little variety - the masculine male ideal is tall, broad-shouldered, square-jawed with a cleft chin and built of sculpted muscle. The stereotypical image of an Alpha Male, someone whom he could respect, and envy.

And sure, there are plenty of women, gay men and people of all sorts who are attracted to to this specific type, even exclusively attracted to it, there is so much more variety in this, both in the tastes and their subjects.

The stereotype of "hot wife, ugly husband"-couples was drawn from the observations of straight men, from their own perspective. Women going after men that men find unattractive makes no sense to them, and they figure that women are willing to overlook being ugly if a man's funny, smart or rich enough. If a woman insists that she's attracted to a specific man who isn't attractive by their standards, they'll assume that she's lying.

The tragic part is when a man who believes himself to be ugly grows bitter over this, developing a foul personality which people do find repulsive, and then uses their repeated experiences of being romantically rejected as proof that they're physically unattractive, insisting that surely women would overlook his heinousness if only he was tall and muscular enough, and had the right bone structure. The self-feeding vicious cycle of being a bitter incel is born.

The thing about "ugly men with a good personality can still be attractive" is that they're usually not even ugly. Some people do genuinely find fat and hairy men, thin and delicate men, short men and feminine men attractive. There's as much variety as in cheese, you can't compare aura to brie. And just like in cheese, as long as you're not toxic, somebody's into that. You just need to find the right wine to compliment it.