#then never again did anyone imply that i was fat

[twilve]

remember that one time i visited my family and for some reason my mom was particularly meaner to me than usual? like what the fuck was up with that? just that one summer, she was like 40% meaner and kept on lowkey calling me fat

[beomiracles]

⌞ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍 ⌝

DREAM RECALL ⸝⸝ Despite everything, he’s still crying. Shiny droplets rolling down his cheeks almost rhythmically as he pants under you. — Your stomach twists as your attention falls on the dark hues adorning his neck and collarbone. Not only had he fucked her, he’d let her do that to him as well, and he came home wearing it, like some fucking souvenir. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⸝⸝

wc -> 2.6k

pairings non idol!yeonjun x fem!reader warnings infidelity, cheater!yeonjun, hurt no comfort, angst, yeonjun cries a lot, handjob, unprotected sex + pullout, meandom!reader, sub!yeonjun, pathetic/desperate yeonjun, nipple play, slapping, degrading, use of "whore", implied marking, big time sad.

#serene adds ✎ I wasn't planning on writing this today but you know the saying of "striking when the iron is hot", well yeah it was practically on fire so I kind of had to. this is not proofread in the slightest oops.

Your usually cozy and warm bedroom feels dark and distant. The air is cold and it causes goosebumps to rise on the naked skin of your arms. Low and hushed sobs fill the dense atmosphere as Yeonjun huddles by your feet. — It was an almost pitiful sight, seeing his disheveled hair, the fat droplets of tears that rolled down his flushed cheeks, bottom lip quivering as he gulped down a breath of air. 

But you did not pity him. In fact, you think you might even hate him. Because when you regard his pathetic frame, trembling hands clawing at the hem of your skirt as his wet face leaves damp spots on the fabric, you feel nothing but disgust. His touch no longer felt warm, nor did it feel comforting. It felt foreign, dirty and tainted with something else, someone else. 

“Please, p-please baby it wasn’t like that!” 

He pleads and he pleads, fingers curling around the flimsy cotton as he tugs himself closer, shuffling on the floor beneath you. A vile grimace darkens your expression as you peer down at him with disdain. — “Get off of me.” 

Yeonjun’s eyes snap up to yours, they’re wide and terrified as he shakes his head. “B-Baby please, you have to believe me!” — Believe him? What an ironic thought indeed. Time and time again, you had believed him, told yourself that you were overreacting, that you were being delusional, that you were a bad girlfriend. You believed him when he told you not to worry about the late nights he worked, about the sudden business meetings, about the team dinners; about the nights you spent alone in bed, foolishly waiting for someone you thought longed to get home to you. 

With the small kick off your heel to his stomach, Yeonjun tumbles back, landing on his ass with a thud and he blinks up at you with teary eyes. “Believe you?” You huff, pulling out your phone as you wave the device in front of him. “Is this what you want me to believe? That this was intended for me, and not that colleague of yours?” 

You watch as his dilated pupils practically explode when they land on the hotel reservation being presented before him, and he audibly swallows. He knows that he’s gotten caught, yet he still tries to lie his way out of it. — It hurts. Not only because he cheated. But because it wasn’t with just anyone. She was special. Yeonjun had never looked at you like that, not once during the three years in which you had been together, the three years in which you had done everything for him. 

Tears threaten to spill down your cheeks and you draw in a shaky breath. He wouldn’t get to see you cry, not anymore and never again. 

“Let’s end things.” 

The statement shouldn’t have taken him by surprise but it seems to have as Yeonjun feebly shakes his head, a loud sob ripping from his throat. “No!” He wails, immediately crawling back to wrap his arms around your legs, pressing his cheek flat against your thighs as he resumes his pitiful crying. — You want to push him off, tell him that he’s disgusting and that you want nothing more to do with him. 

“P-Please..” His voice is hushed, jagged and ruined by him choking on his own tears, “i-it was a mistake I s-swear! I would n-never do that to y-you, I- I love you!” By the end he sounds almost strained, high-pitched and desperate as he clings to you. — Love. What a pathetic emotion. If this was love then you didn’t want it. 

“Do you think shit will be okay just because you said that?” You seethe, fingers curling into fists by your sides as you fight off the urge to kick him off once more. Yeonjun doesn’t say anything, merely hugging himself closer as he cries into your skirt, biting back whimpers as he snivels. — “Do you think I'll forgive you? That I’ll kiss you and tell you that everything is fine?” 

He hiccups at your words, shaking his head shamefully as his fingers twist against the smooth fabric of your clothes. “Is that what you want?” You ask, your voice suddenly shifting into an eerily calm one, but Yeonjun doesn’t seem to pick up on the change as he continues to sob. — “Answer me.” Your demand makes his head jerk up and he hesitates for only a second before he nods, biting his swollen bottom lip carefully. With a small huff you avert your gaze, taking a step back as you shrug him off once more. 

Then you kneel down, the rich carpet is soft under your bare legs and you regard your boyfriend with a look of fabricated sympathy. Yeonjun on the other hand looks wary as he awkwardly swallows, his gaze flitting between your eyes nervously as he exhales. — He lets out a noise of surprise when you suddenly cup his cheek, leaning in to press a small kiss against his wobbling lips. Though he quickly falls into your embrace as he lets your tongue dwell deep inside his waiting mouth, gliding along his own as he whimpers. 

It didn’t feel the same. It wasn’t the same. And you hated it. 

With a small hiss you withdraw, making him look at you with an alarmed expression as he tries to speak, though no words come out. — “On the bed.” Is all you say, your voice suddenly cold and demanding. The subtle shift makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand and Yeonjun scrambles to his feet as he hurries for the bed, gingerly plopping down on the mattress. 

You’re quick to follow behind, looming over his uncertain figure as you study him closely. “Undress.” — “W-What?” His question makes you groan and you reach for the collar of his shirt, yanking the first few buttons open. “This is what you wanted, no? For things to go back to normal, for me to say that it’s all okay.” 

He parts his lips but remains silent, slowly nodding as his hands raise to resume the work you’d started on his sweater. — Once the garment falls from his shoulders, you push him back, making yourself comfortable on his lap as you straddle him. He looks confused, but there’s an undeniable glimmer of hope flickering behind his eyes as you reach for your own blouse, slowly pulling it over your head. 

“You want to pretend like nothing’s ever happened?” You wonder as you lean forward, the tip of your finger resting on his chin and Yeonjun nods. He was so used to you complying, used to you believing him, he had grown comfortable with your naivety. And now you were paying the price for it. — “Yeah? You want to pretend like you never fucked that woman?” — His face falls at the statement and he immediately objects, just like you had expected him to. “Baby I didn’t I swear, it’s a misunderstanding you have to believe-” 

Smack! 

The slap echoes through the air and Yeonjun’s rant immediately cuts short as his eyes blow wide. Your hand stings but you ignore it, instead focusing on the red mark blooming across his cheek, satisfaction beating within your chest. — “You fucking liar.” Your voice is close to breaking but you don’t care. Thumb and index finger digging into his cheeks as he tries shaking his head, as he tries denying the blatant truth once more. 

Tears spill from his eyes yet again, his nose becoming stuffed as he fights to inhale through it. You pay him little mind, your hand wandering down his stomach until you reach the hem of his pants. A final glance his way shows that he’s both anticipating and fearful of your next move, his body squirming under you as he tries to make sense of the situation. 

He gasps when your fingers wrap around his semi-erect cock, working quickly to get him hard as you pull back to spit on your hand. “Probably won’t be as good as your previous fuck I fear”, you mutter as your thumb rubs his tip harshly, making him whine as his hips buck. — The wet streaks on his cheek have yet to stop and he continues to sob, mindlessly shaking his head as small hiccups of “no’s” and “wasn’t like that”, leaves his lips. 

“No I bet it wasn’t”, you drawl, pulling him from his briefs as you lean back to work your hand along his throbbing cock. “I bet it was just a mistake”, you sigh, slowing down momentarily as your gaze shifts to his face. Yeonjun’s eyes are wide as he stares up at the ceiling, short pants passing his parted lips and his face is puffy and red from crying. — “Was it?” You repeat your question, and it makes his head lull forward as he nods. 

“Y-Yes! W-Was a m-mistake!” He breathes, chest heaving as he tries to win you over, tries to win you back. You have to bite back the insults already waiting on your tongue as you regard his pathetic attempts at showing remorse. “And you’re sorry?” — The hand on his cock has almost completely stopped now and Yeonjun writhers uncomfortably under you as he nods feebly. “Y-Yes, I’m s-sorry, please baby!” He chokes the words out between his tears.  

It was tempting to give in, to believe him, just like you always did. The thought of falling back into your old habit of ignorant bliss, of unawareness and your life in the dark.. It scared you more than anything. You refused to become that person once more. You refused to put up with the shit that Yeonjun would make you endure, all because you wanted to be a good girlfriend. That obviously wasn’t enough. 

Instead you lift your skirt up, instructing him to hold it for you as you slide your panties to the side, drawing a lazy finger across your unenthusiastic cunt. Yeonjun practically whimpers at the sight of you touching yourself before him, cock twitching as it demands attention. But you can’t muster another feeling besides disgust. Bet he couldn’t wait to fuck the next thing that as much as moved. 

He emits a strangled moan as you slide down on him, nestling him between your legs just like you had so many times before. Except everything was different today. — His hands are on your hips as he tugs you forward, desperate for you to meet his eager thrusts as he buries himself deep inside of your tight and burning core. 

Despite everything, he’s still crying. Shiny droplets rolling down his cheeks almost rhythmically as he pants under you. — Your stomach twists as your attention falls on the dark hues adorning his neck and collarbone. Not only had he fucked her, he’d let her do that to him as well, and he came home wearing it, like some fucking souvenir. 

“What a fucking whore.” You mutter, nails scraping across the marks and Yeonjun whimpers at the contact to the sensitive skin. There was no denying his actions now, he knew it too, lip trembling as he followed your lingering gaze. — “A liar and a whore, what else are you?” Your pace is slow as you grind against him, feeling his cock twitch with every clench of your cunt around him. He doesn’t answer, the only sounds he emits are wailing cries and whimpers as he loses himself in a guilt-ridden state of ecstasy. 

“Do you like it? Do you like being covered in the filth of another woman?” You practically yell, making him whimper as he shakes his head, breath catching in his throat as he fumbles for words. — Biting the inside of your cheek, you let your hands splay across his chest, not bothering to leave any marks of your own, you didn’t want him to have a single piece of you left. Instead your focus shifts to his perked nipples, fingers coming up to play with the sensitive buds as Yeonjun arches off the mattress with a weak moan. 

“Disgusting fucking whore”, you grit, fighting off the tears as you increased your pace on him, hips snapping against his. “Doesn't matter who it is as long as you get your dick wet.” — He’s stopped trying to object, merely accepting his fate as he sobs out into the dark room, his hands on your hips trembling as he tries pulling you closer. 

“Get your hands off of me”, you grunt, prying him from your body before your fingers reattach themselves around his nipples, pulling and twisting them as you gauge his reaction. Yeonjun whines as his head falls back against the pillow, drool forming in the corner of his mouth before it slowly rolls down the side of his chin. “Mhhn, p-please baby..” He mumbles, his expression dazed as he struggles to see straight. 

Unbelievable. He still had the nerve to ask such a thing. “You’re funny if you honestly think I’m going to let you come anywhere near me, let alone inside”, you spit, watching as his brows draw together in a confused frown, fingers twisting in the bed sheets as he swallows a small wail. 

His cock continues to twitch inside of you and with a quiet huff you pull off, to which Yeonjun groans as his hips buck in an attempt to chase after you. — It felt good, seeing him like this, completely worn out and spent before you. His hair standing in all directions, body glistening in a sheer layer of sweat, his cheeks red and puffed as they lay coated in his tears. It didn’t matter that he’d cheated, because even if he did, you were the one who got to see him like this, you were the one who made him like this. 

Your hand returns to stroke him, relishing in the way he caught his bottom lip between his teeth to muffle the noises he’d previously been letting out so shamelessly. And when he comes you let it splatter across his stomach, adding to the filth and dirt already covering him as he cries in your grasp. But you didn’t take pity on him, not once. Because when did he ever take pity on you? 

As his breathing evens out, his cock softening, and his tears gradually subsiding, Yeonjun finally lifts his gaze to look at you. His expression is best described as hopeful. He still thinks he’s got you wrapped around his finger. He still thinks that you’ll forgive him for everything he’s done. — But you won’t.

“Get out.” 

He looks surprised, startled even, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “What?” He croaks, his voice hoarse as he props himself up on his elbows. You frown, eyes boring into his, “I said get out, did you not hear me?” — “We’re over, Yeonjun.” 

Just as you thought he would finally stop crying, does his tears resurface. You wondered why he cried. Because he surely wasn’t mourning the loss of you, he’d made that very clear the second he got in another woman’s bed. You don’t care for his tears, not anymore. You don’t care for him anymore. And even if Yeonjun did care about you, in his own twisted and fucked up way, it was far too late now, he knew that too. 

The bedroom door shuts minutes later and you’re left alone, just as alone as you had been all those nights without him. It didn’t feel much different, and you wondered why you hadn’t done this sooner.

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[weepingchronicles]

Could you do a yandere Caitlyn kiramman from arcane x fem reader?

thank you for your request! sorry if this is ooc, i feel that i am not that good at writing for caitlyn but i tried. </3 also!! no s2 spoilers :)

content warnings: controlling and obsessive behavior, little bit of infantilizing, forced drugging, implied kidnapping.

❝yandere!caitlyn kiramman x fem!reader❞

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Whether you were from Zaun or Piltover treats you with kindness. If you're from Piltover she thinks of you as an equal and might admire you to some degree if you are talented. If you're from the undercity she might have some reservations about you at first but as she gets to know you better she puts those thoughts aside and begins to see you as an equal and friend. For this though let's just assume you both are co-workers!

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 I think Caitlyn is so focused and goal-driven she will have difficulty realizing she likes you more than just a comrade or friend. It will start with longing glances, she spaces out just staring at you without even realizing she is missing orders from her superior. When others ask Cait what she thinks of you, she gets a bit distracted.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁"She's an excellent friend and partner. .! I could not imagine anyone else replacing her. I find her very admirable, her strength and her clever nature. The way she holds her gun, when she forgets a loose button on top of her uniform, the way her eyes widen when she-" and on and on and on. . .

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 It actually takes someone else to point out her obvious crush on you for her to realize. She is completely flabbergasted and in denial at first, "What! No way- what are you talking about? Yes, she is my friend but also my co-worker! That'd be completely unprofessional!"

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 But then she can't stop overanalyzing all her interactions with you. Whenever you enter a room her heart sinks to her stomach. God forbid you actually go beside her, her brain completely malfunctions in a way she has never experienced before. You're just so talented.. and beautiful. No! She just really, really, really admires you. It's not an actual crush..! Right?

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Caitlyn had never really experienced romantic feelings for someone before, she has been so focused on her goals and proving herself she never had the time to. Of course, there was many people offering their hand for her but it was always met with a firm but polite 'no.'

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 She hated all the male suitors her parents tried to coerce her into meeting at least, to see if it's a match. To please her parents she would but every single one was awful. They saw her only as an object, a pretty thing to marry and show off as a trophy. A tool for power, not in the least caring for her dreams and aspirations.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 But you, you were so different. You were kind and actually cared for her opinions even if she tended to push the boundaries of her actual duties. You never gave up on her even when it felt like the world did.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Welp, she couldn't deny it anymore, she in fact had a big fat crush on you. What to do next? Oh, pretend everything is normal and hopefully it goes away.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 But it doesn't. In fact it gets even worse the more she tries to conceal it. Stumbling over words like a blabbering fool as you attempt to talk to her, her co-workers laugh at her making her even more flushed!

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 It wasn't until one day her obsession with you truly began. It was one of Jinx's ambushes again and there were explosions, it wasn't good. It was very bad. Most of her peers had died unexpectedly, not even getting a chance to fight back. Caitlyn herself got injured but all she could think about was you.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 It took about an hour of searching the premises before she finally found you, stuck and unconscious under a pile of rubble. You looked bad, it struck a fear in Caitlyn, seeing you like that, she never wished to feel it again. She carried you herself to get some help despite limping and bleeding from her own wounds.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Luckily you got help in immediate time and you came to in a hospital bed, Caitlyn herself passed out in a chair beside you with her head in your lap. You could see the dark bags under her eyes, you figured she must've not been getting enough sleep. Has she been with you the entire time you've been out of commission?

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 During your healing process which would be a long while, Caitlyn took a rare deprive from her work, also recovering her lesser injuries. She spent most of her time beside you, making sure you ate, bringing you things to keep you entertained like books, helping you stand to the bathroom for goodness sake. It still couldn't keep her entirely out of her work though, in fact it made her even more determined to find this 'Jinx' and get justice for you and her friends, of course. She was almost obsessed with the case and capturing Jinx, and it all stemmed from her growing protection over you.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Caitlyn struggled to sleep, having nightmares of the explosion and you, your bloody body now mangled and unrealistically morphed into something terrifying. She'd wake up in fright, only to find herself sleeping on your lap with you sleeping sound. She'd brush back your hair, vowing to never let you get hurt like that again.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 All of this came to a climax when you were finally well enough to be released from the hospital. You were a bit rusty but you were antsy to get back to work, you felt so useless being trapped in a hospital bed.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Caitlyn, however, was not ready for you to leave and go back to action. You were still so weak, what if something happens and you aren't able to react quickly enough? What if you die?

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Cait could not stand for it and so she pleaded for you to reconsider, just a month or a week more! But you were adamant about heading back, no matter what Caitlyn said. So she gave in but she was not going to let you get hurt under her watch.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 She was like a shadow you could never get rid of. Always hovering around you and staring at you with those crystal blue eyes warily, waiting almost so she can step in and help you. Even if you were put in different groups, she'd stray just so she can make sure you're okay. Need some water? Oh, careful there's a rock there! Are you okay? Be careful. Be careful. Be careful.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 You could not handle it anymore, it felt not only suffocating but demeaning with the way she treated and looked at you as though you were glass.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 You snapped, yelling at her to leave you alone and that you're an adult, you are capable of defending yourself. After snapping you felt a bit guilty seeing her face. She looked completely shocked and almost like a kicked over puppy, those big blue eyes looking sad now. Caitlyn could only watch in silence as you walked away from her, trying to calm down. And for once, she did not follow.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 A couple days passed with no progress on the Jinx case and it seemed that Cait had finally gotten the hint and left you alone. You felt almost bad, when you were near she'd glance at you and quickly look away as if hurt. You didn't want to stop being friends, just that it was getting to a point of controlling behavior.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 You took it upon yourself to visit the Kiramman household, wanting to apologize and become friends again. You did miss her, you both had especially gotten close after spending so much time healing. Perhaps that is why it hurt so much that she didn't trust you.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Caitlyn looked shocked when you showed up on her doorstep but let you in nonetheless, pretending everything was normal. She offered you tea and you agreed.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Sitting both down, you finally let it out that you reacted too harshly that day and that you wanted to continue being friends. That you missed her.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Taking a deep exhale after saying all of that, you waited for her reaction. Cait was serene and hard to read, not responding right away instead taking her teacup and sipping on her tea.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 "Please have some of your tea, it is imported from Ionia."

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 You stare at her a bit, is that all she had to say? Not even an acknowledgement or, hell, even a refusal to forgive you? You sigh and drink the tea anyways and she begins to actually speak.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁"You see, over the last couple of days, no, months that I have been by your side whilst you heal has made me have a realization." She glances up at you from her tea.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 "I love you." All thoughts disappear from your head the moment those words are uttered, so calmly as well. "And when you love something, you protect it. Your outburst at me the other day made me truly realize this, what you're doing to yourself- it's a cry for help. You are not fit to be an enforcer, it is too dangerous and with Jinx still out there.. I am afraid I can't let you leave again." Wait, what?

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Just as she finishes speaking your vision begins to spin. You start seeing two Caitlyn's instead of one, the teacup in your hands wobbles and breaks in shards on the ground. Caitlyn tuts and stands up, grabbing your shoulders gently and laying you back down onto the couch before you could fall.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 "There we go. I'm sorry it had to be this way but don't worry, I will find Jinx and make her pay for doing this to you. Just rest, my dear."

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Even then, Caitlyn stays by your side while gently caressing your cheek. Your vision fades and you fall asleep.

a/n: guys.. i may have went a bit overboard with writing this but it was more fun that i had thought! i hope i did yan caitlyn justice! <3 also this is kind of foreshadowing a little bit of s2 cait?? but in a alternative universe. also see how caitlyn's suitors just thought of her as an object and now she is doing the same thing to reader unintentionally.. parallels!!

[farfromstrange]

Just Let Me Love You | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader (f!Reader heavily implied)

Summary: You're struggling with your body image and Matt notices

Warnings: Angst, TW: allusions to an ED, self-deprecating talk (Reader has internalized fatphobia toward herself), not proof red (I was too emotional for that)

Word Count: 2.1k

A/n: So, my body is changing and I hate it. As someone who was the Fat Funny Friend growing up, I got inspired by the song. Now I wasn't sure if to tag for a plus-sized reader because when I wrote this, I had myself in mind, and I'm not even sure what "category" I fall into, so this is pretty universal and I think any of you who are struggling with body dysmorphia might appreciate this. Heed the warnings before proceeding and don't forget to eat if you haven't already! (Also, I used my tag list to tag for this, but don't read it if this triggers you, please!)

Our brains are wired to function in a certain way. But not every brain is balanced in chemistry. 

For the longest time, she thought there was something seriously wrong with her. She never fit in anywhere, so she tried to make herself fit. Change her attitude, change her behavior, change her hobbies, and change the way she looks. She did it so many times, she lost count. 

She relied on humor, telling funny little anecdotes to make whatever friend group she was a part of at the time laugh at her. But that was all she could do. Make them laugh. She lit up the mood, lit up the room, but she seemingly never lit up anyone’s heart the way her friends did. 

They talked about their relationships, talked about their families and friends, and she played along. She listened. When she talked about her likes, they pretended to care, but within minutes, they lost interest. She thought it just wasn’t that important. Not as important as how beautiful they all were, anyway. And they were striking, she thought. That’s why everyone always chose them and never approached her. But she swallowed it to at least be a part of something. 

She always helped everyone but herself. She was there when no one else was, but even when she was a part of something, she never fully fit in. There was an impossible standard looming over her head, and she couldn’t possibly reach it. 

Don’t be too loud. Don’t be too silly. Don’t say no. Don’t talk about your problems, only listen to everyone else’s. Don’t believe that he wants you because he is too good for you, and all he wants is your best friend who is ten times prettier than you. And don’t believe that personality and humor will get you anywhere; you will end up miserably alone the same way people who look like you always will. 

The same voice, over and over again. Word turning into knives. It was exhausting to fight against the demons within her because they just sounded so damn convincing. 

When she met him, the man who stole her heart, she never thought he would ask her out. When he did, she was dumbfounded. In every possible situation, he found himself assuring her that he wouldn’t drop her for the pretty blonde in the office, or his psychotic ex-girlfriend who just happened to have the most beautiful body known to man. To her, at least. Everyone around him was just so beautiful, and he was even more so–he was the prettiest specimen in the world, and everyone desired him. Of course, she grew insecure. She couldn’t help it. It was a reflex.

She fell in love with a man who finally saw her for who she was and he loved her despite—no, he loved her regardless. For who she was. He took her, accepted her, and began seeing her as the most beautiful person in the world. For the first time, she felt appreciated, loved, and not so miserably alone. 

Yet, the fear continued to linger. The fear that one day, he would notice that perhaps, a woman of average looks wouldn’t be enough for him anymore. That she was, indeed, as unconventionally unattractive as everyone said she was from the first day she actually understood what was being said to her. She was just a child then. 

The funny friend. The awkward friend. The weird one. The girl without real friends. The girl with the silly clothes, the silly smile, the slightly crooked teeth, the belly pouch… The girl who lost weight, the girl who gained weight, and the girl who shouldn’t be so proud of herself because she had nothing to be proud of. 

“Sweetheart?” he asked her, yanking her out of the downward spiral that only continued to get worse over time. “Did you have anything to eat yet?”

He stood in the kitchen, the sleeves of his dress shirt bunched around his elbow. It was hot outside, too hot for her liking, and even his clothes were slightly stained with sweat. 

She looked up from the couch, still wrapped up in a blanket despite the high temperatures, a book resting on her thighs. He met her eyes with a smile. 

“I noticed your leftovers are still in the fridge. Could smell them,” he clarified. “I was just wondering whether that was on purpose or not.”

Worrying fit it better, she thought to herself. He always worried too much. 

She closed her book. “I might’ve forgotten,” she said as if it was the most natural thing in the world. 

His eyebrows furrowed. “You forgot?” There was a hint of amusement in his voice, but it never reached his eyes. 

“Yeah. I probably got too caught up reading or something. It’s no big deal. I’ll eat later. Or drink another latte.”

He hummed. “You know, iced coffee is not considered a healthy diet. Your body needs fuel.”

“Jesus Christ, Matt,” she raised her voice, “I’m okay!”

“You don’t look okay,” he stated as a matter of fact. 

“And how would you know?”

“I just do.”

He approached, his muscles straining against his shirt. It wasn’t fair, how good he looked. How well he carried himself. And he still had the audacity to look at her and tell her she had much more going for herself than just her humor. That she was beautiful. Pretty enough. 

“Hey,” Matt lowered himself on the couch beside her, “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, huh?”

“I forgot to eat, I told you,” she said.

“I don’t believe you.”

“But it’s the truth.”

“Not if you did it on purpose.”

The book landed on the coffee table and she got up, pacing the small space of their shared apartment in the heart of Hell’s Kitchen. He could hear her heartbeat pounding against her ribcage, the pent-up tears, and the tension, and he wanted nothing more than to reach out. But he waited. He gave her the space she needed to collect her thoughts.

“I forgot,” she repeated. “At first. And then I just happened to pass by a mirror and…and I looked at myself. I mean, really looked at myself.”

“Oh–” He sighed. “Baby…”

“I’m smaller when my stomach is empty, you know. And I thought it wouldn’t hurt me to, uh…cut back a little?”

He was about to respond, but she cut him off. “I don’t mean that I’m starving myself. I just…I forgot to eat, and then, when I remembered, I remembered what I saw and I was just…I’m not hungry anymore. I…I don’t think it’s a big deal. I’m not doing it on purpose, I’m just…”

She stopped pacing. She met his unfocused hazel eyes that held so much pain when he looked at her. He reached out, not saying a word, and she extended her shaky fingers toward the lifeline he was throwing. 

“Oh, God,” she whispered. She realized then why he looked so hurt. “It’s getting bad again, isn’t it?”

The question hung in the room as he pulled her toward himself. 

She didn’t protest when he pulled her back onto the couch, his arms engulfing her and pulling her back against his sturdy chest.

“What makes you think that you need to hurt yourself to fit some unrealistic beauty standard?” he asked softly, his voice merely a breath tickling her ear. 

She whimpered, not wanting to answer. 

“What makes you think that not being healthy is the solution to the way you see yourself? Wouldn’t that just make it worse?”

“I just…” She took a deep breath. “I just… I just want to be enough.”

“But you are enough,” he answered in a heartbeat, placing his hand on her neck and turning her face to him. He missed her face with his gaze, but she could still feel him in every fiber of her being as he sat there and felt her pulse, and she matched her breathing to his. 

A tear rolled down her cheek. “You don’t understand what it’s like,” she whispered back. “You don’t understand what it’s like to be only seen as the comedic relief in every relationship you have ever been in while your friends pulled the guys you wanted. Because they never wanted you, and they never saw competition in you either because you were just never the center of anyone’s attention.”

He was silent for a moment. The taste of her tears reached his tongue, and he visibly recoiled at the pain she held inside of her. Matt pulled her closer, holding her a little tighter. She melted. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of leaving her to deal with her thoughts, he placed his lips against her ear again. “You’re the center of my attention,” he said. “Of my world. My universe. And I couldn’t care less about the way you look.”

“That’s because you’re blind,” she shot back, a sob rippling through her body. 

He shook his head. “No. Those who reduce you to your looks are blind, and they don’t even deserve you in the first place. What matters most is this–” his large hand found its way onto the left side of her chest, above her heart. “What’s in here is what makes you beautiful, not what covers the outside.”

“But that’s not enough, is it?”

“To me, it is.”

“Not to me, Matthew. Like I said, you don’t get it.”

She struggled against his grip, but he wouldn’t let her go. “Then let me rephrase it,” he tried again, pressing his hand further against her chest. “I care more about who you are inside because I love you. But I don’t need sight to appreciate your physical beauty along with the sound of your heartbeat. Your breathing. Your touch. You know why?”

She shook her head. “Enlighten me.”

“Because I can feel you, sweetheart, and you are the most breathtaking human being I have ever had the pleasure of laying my hands on.”

If words were enough to make a person pass out, this would surely have been her breaking point. 

“You mean that?” She turned around, her tears now glistening with a taste of hope. 

He brushed them away with his thumb and nodded. “Every last word.”

Her eyes fluttered closed at the ghost of his touch. “I don’t like my body,” the admission came quietly.

In response, Matt nodded. “I know, but you have nothing to be ashamed of. That body deserves to be loved. You deserve to be loved.”

“I feel like…like I don’t deserve you. I don’t want you to leave me for…for Karen.”

The mention of her name caused him to frown. “Karen?” he asked. She nodded. He sighed, forcing her head to his chest, forcing her to listen to his heartbeat the same way he always did to her. “Don’t even think like that,” he told her. “I would never leave you for someone else. For no one, for nothing. I need you to stop assuming that, sweetheart. It’s not true.”

“It feels true,” she cried. 

His lips brushed the crown of her head. “But it isn’t.”

“But–”

“I love you,” he said, a bit more insistent this time. “Only you. I would rather die than never be with you again. And I mean that. Bring me the poison and I’ll prove it to you. I’ll get on my knees and worship the ground you walk on if that’ll make you believe me, but I won’t leave you.”

She clung to him, her nails digging into his shirt. Matt shushed her, his fingers brushing through her hair. The rhythm was soothing. 

She sobbed until she had nothing left to give. She cried because she knew he was right. She knew she was overthinking, but she was powerless to fight it. He was the only one who could open her eyes, and even then, she more often than not slipped away. She hated it. She hated the way her brain was wired, the things she was taught, and the things she continuously and wrongly kept teaching herself. 

Eventually, though, she slacked in his arms. 

“I don’t really like myself right now,” she confessed. “But I don’t know how to stop it.”

Matt chuckled softly, his chest rumbling. He tilted her chin up. “Then let me help you,” he said. 

“How?” she asked. 

He leaned down, his lips brushing against hers in a gentle kiss. “Just let me love you.” 

Tagging from Matt Murdock Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @ravenclaw617 @thychuvaluswife @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten

[bi-bi-buckleys]

Here’s a quick fic I wrote when I was meant to be working. I refuse to accept this new version of Maddie the writers are trying to sell us. Posting before the episode airs so I can live in denial a little longer ❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maddie had just walked out of her favorite local cafe with a modified version of her favorite latte (decafe, low fat sugar free vanilla, ugh) when she sees someone familiar sitting at one of the outdoor tables to her right.

“Tommy!”

Maddie forgot. Just for a second. Just for the split second it took her to say his name. Oh right. You’re not dating my brother anymore.

Oops.

Tommy looks at her like a deer in headlights. He recovers quickly enough and stands from the table.

“Hey, Maddie! How are you?” He’s trying to sound chipper, but after he hugs her she sees the sadness haunting his eyes.

“I’m doing well, how are you?”

“I’m….I’m ok.”

It’s a lie and they both know it.

“How’s Ev-Buck?”

“Heartbroken. Baking every time he thinks to call you. His fridge is packed.”

Tommy smiles sadly and Maddie feels a stab of guilt for telling her brother to move on. She thought Tommy left because he didn’t love Buck, but that’s not the feeling she’s getting right now.

“He asked me to move in with him. But he never said he loved me. He said he admired me.” Tommy blurts out like he hasn’t had a chance to really talk about it.

“Oh.” She didn’t know that part.

“Yeah. And the thing is, I love him. So much. I would love him to be my forever. He’s sweet, and funny, and smart, and ridiculous, and even covered in boils he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. He’s everything to me. But how can I commit to moving in with a man who asks me to move in because he admires me? Because what happens when he realizes he doesn’t love me the same way I love him? It wouldn’t just break my heart, Maddie: it would destroy it.”

Maddie can’t see through the tears in her eyes. She’s never heard anyone talk so earnestly about loving her little brother before. She can tell Tommy really means it. He broke both of their hearts that night.

“Sometimes my brother thinks that by saying one thing, the other thing is implied. He gets ahead of himself. I’m sure you’ve noticed that, for as smart as he is, his train of thought can be kinda all over the place.”

Tommy laughs, but it's sad and full of just how much he misses Buck.

“He says he can see a future with you, and I’ve never heard him say that before. He also said your happiness is as important to him as his own. Tommy, he wants to call you so bad but he’s terrified of you turning him down again. He’s been hurt before, but I’ve never seen him this miserable. You should talk to him. I’m not saying move in with him, but I think you should hear what he has to say. And I think you should believe him.”

“Is he working right now?”

“Nope. Last I heard he was making a pineapple upside down bundt cake.”

“Wow.”

“I know. Seriously, his fridge is packed. It’s concerning.”

“Thanks, Maddie. I’m gonna go talk to him.”

Maddie gives him a hug and watches as he practically runs to his car. She laughs and wipes the tears from her eyes. She starts to think that maybe the universe did give her brother his special person after all.

~~~

Later she gets a call

“So you talked to Tommy?” Buck whispers.

“I did. I told him to talk to you.”

“What happened to ‘move on’?”

“That was before he told me all the things he loves about you and that ‘even covered in boils, he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

Buck gives a small laugh, and she can tell he’s blushing. “He uh, h-he really said that?”

“Yes he did. Word for word. So, did you talk?”

“Yeah we uh- we talked. For a long time. About everything.” His voice was even quieter now, but she could hear his happiness.

She knows the answer before she asks, “Why are you whispering?”

“Because Tommy’s asleep next to me.” Maddie can practically see the smile on his face.

“I’ll let you get some sleep, too then.”

“Yeah, I think I probably should,” Buck laughs and Maddie rolls her eyes at the wink wink tone of his voice.

“Goodnight, Evan.”

“Night, Maddie. Oh, uh hey…thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

After they hang up, Maddie can’t stop smiling. Knowing her brother is happy and loved by someone who was willing to put his heart on the line for him. Someone who loves him so much it scares him. Someone who realizes what he walked away from, and went back despite knowing it could end in pain.

Yeah. She’s pretty certain Tommy is Buck’s special person.

[swifty-fox]

hiiii… ¹¹⁾ stripping down to the same level of undress as them in an effort to try and make them feel more comfortable 👀

I know what you want you heathen <3

cw: Body image, cw discussion of cannibalism but in a horny catholic metaphorical way

"It ain't anything pretty."

"Kinda for me to decide isn't it, Buck?"

Gale frowns at him miserably, arms crossed over his skinny chest, the cords of his muscle visible in spots where skin had grown thin from malnutrition. His hibones were less of muscular swells for John to tongue across and closer to ragged mountain peaks, their sharpness only outmatched by the knife edge of his elbows, or maybe each round handhold of his spine.

Back to Thorpe, back to the States, back to the house John had bought them on their final leave before deployment, they hadn't had a single moment to be alone. To be anything real and true. Certainly not to be naked or anything else close to intimate.

"It ain't anything I didn't see the last two years, doll," John says gently.

It had started out unintentional, Gale in the shower as John shaved and brushed his teeth. They hadn't held shyness around each other's bodies for years now. Long before they'd been shot out of the sky. And then forced to watch each other waste away, only able to steal snippets and moments of comfort. Never anything real, anything truly concrete. And, in defense of Gale, he'd stepped out of the shower with only the smallest hint of trepidation, reaching for the towel hung by John's shoulder.

It was when John had turned, given Gale a slow once over and handed him the towel with a lingering hand and lingering gaze that had sent the other man stepping backward, crossing his bony arms across his bony chest and looking away.

"Doc says im strugglin' to put it back on. Nurses keep looking at me with pity."

"That's them. They ain't seen of you what I've seen."

"Me healthy?" Gale asks with miserable bitterness.

"How fuckin' tough you are. How you fly like a goddamn dream and land a bird like you're settin' down a pillow. They haven't seen you leading men through muck and snow and air and goddamn SS guards. So what you gave up a few pounds for it? Doesn't make me love or want you less."

"I was strong once-"

"Fuck that," John interrupts, spinning fully to press Gale back against the door of the bathroom by the hips, thumbs across the soft skin of his stomach. Skin still slightly damp, the droplets prickle John's lips as he drops his head to press gentle kisses to Gale's shoulder.

"Fuck that," he repeats, "You're strong now, you'll be strong again. I'll pop anyone in the mouth who wants to imply you're anything but a goddamn miracle and a solider."

"And If I waste away to nothing but bones?"

John laughs, drops to his knees and nuzzles the wasted muscle of Gale's thigh, sucks up along the inner tendon to mouth at Gale's soft cock, lapping at the head like a dog until Gale lets out a helpless noise.

"Then I'll grind you into powder and eat you down," John breathes, nuzzles the root of Gale's cock and inhaling the fresh clean scent of his body. Wiggles his tongue along the seam of his balls and hitches a leg over his shoulder to mouth at Gale's taint.

Gale lets out a shocked noise, spindly fingers flying to John's curls.

"I'll carry you inside me, I'll keep you safe and warm and you'll be all mine. I'll drink your blood like they did in the bible and I'll eat your body and nobody will be able to keep us apart again."

Gale's cock is fat on his cheek, weeping clear arousal that smears across John's stubble in a sticky mess. John sucks him down, presses his tongue against the spongy head and wiggles it against the slit until Gale is crying out.

"Look at me," John pants, pulling away to shrug out of his own undershirt, shoving his sleep pants off his legs. Lack of underwear left his body entirely bare, underfed muscle hanging off a frame build to hold twenty or more missing pounds.

"I'm ruined too," John pants, hand working Gale's cock with mindless determination. The other man is already shivering and shaking, head thrown back but tilted to the side so he could watch John's face. It's the first time they've done this in two years and John feels a little feral for it.

"I'm ruined."

"You're not -"

"What would you do if I wasted away?" John pants, kisses Gale's hipbone and stomach, "Would you let me nourish you? Would you get strong off my flesh and my body and my love? I'll feed you with my love baby I'll feed you with anything. You're strong Gale, but I'll give you whatever you goddamn need to feel it."

"Yeah," Gale breathes.

John grins up at him, hand working fast and frantic, mouths wherever his fingers don't cover, "My bones, my flesh, my heart and all the rest of my squishy parts. Take them Gale they're all for you."

[durrtydawg]

Lump

(Sam Drake x F!Reader)

This is a lil love letter to those of you who feel like you’re not worthy of being loved in the same way as those in smaller bodies. Not expecting much traction on this, but it's self-indulgent and I'm just happy I wrote something. Though primarily written with chunky gals (me) in mind, I still hope this can soothe anyone who feels uncomfortable in their own skin. CW: There’s a subtle discussion of fat fetish subculture here (it is absolutely NOT glorified- Quite the opposite, in fact. No shame to those who dig that kind of thing, but it’s not my vibe which I’m sure you’ll be able to tell), so if that’s something you feel uncomfortable thinking about, pls move on. Of course, I wrote this with Sam in mind because I’m a whore, but honestly, this could just be anyone. I’m struggling big time, but this was a nice spoonful of medicine and a necessary moment of reflection. Not for everyone, but regardless, I hope you enjoy :) x

Masterlist

Sam’s hands are used to ‘rough’. To unforgiving iron bars. Crumbling stone. Splintered wood. The stippled rubber of weaponry grip. He’s got the callouses to prove it.

For a long time, it was all he knew. It was him. Rough. There was never a need for contrast.

He thought that it would demand caution. To have to sacrifice everything he’d started to reclaim and do for himself. He doesn’t want to be careful. So for a long time, he avoided anything ‘soft’.

But with her, he realised that not only did he want it, but he needed it. With her, he can indulge. With her, he’s able to grab and squeeze and tug with abandon. To soothe the soreness of his fingertips within her smooth, yielding ‘soft’. 

To him, she is everything, even when she saw herself as nothing.

She’s not a reflection of glossy front covers. Nor the proportionately sculpted forms that stand sentinel in the halls of museums or the centre of fountains. She doesn’t believe it, but to him, she has always been a masterpiece unto herself.

‘A lump’, she used to call herself. A playground insult. Not harmless, but on the surface, tame. “I’m a lump compared to all these girls.”

He was cooking— the first time he heard her say it. She was perched on the counter, traipsing from one online clothing store to the next, paying more attention to the models than the outfits. He laughed. “Ridiculous,” he replied, shaking his head as the wooden spoon in his hand cut through bubbling ragu- a specialty. A comfort. Reminiscent of his mother’s existence. He held the spoon up to her lips, prying her face away from blue light with a hand stretched over her thigh.

To him, the word ‘lump’ meant discomfort. An anomaly. A flaw. A slab of something undesirable that took up space much to the disdain of others in its proximity. In his eyes she was the furthest away from any of those things he thought possible.

“Here. It’s missing somethin’.” 

He lied.

He knew it was perfect. He just wanted to watch her eat. To pass his mother’s affection to her.

She hesitated, then shook her head.

He frowned, hand moving from thigh to soft jaw. “Open up f’me”, he urged, eyes narrowed.

A warm flush tinted her cheeks and eye contact broke. 

For a fleeting moment, she considered whether or not there there was a deep-rooted fetish involved in his attraction to her. So she asked him if that was the case.

When he realised what she was implying, for the first time, he saw the cracks ran deeper than just a childish nickname. She was so worn down that she truly believed the only way someone could find her attractive was if they reduced her to some sort of Machiavellian fixation.

He realised that the thought had crossed his mind once before. And he hated himself for it.

He’d read about it years ago- it was featured in some dirty contraband magazine whilst he was inside. He found himself reflecting on it again after he’d gotten hard from her licking cake batter off the spoon when he’d visited her apartment for the first time. But he had come to the conclusion the whole kink thing wasn’t him. This wasn’t objectification. Control. Coercion. He’d feel the same regardless of her size. 

It wasn't about the superficial aspects of her appearance or some strange fetishisation of consumption and weight, but rather about nourishing her in every sense of the word. Mind, body, soul.

She’d called herself a lump. This was merely his way of telling her that she was wrong. That she’s just as deserving of food and love and sex as anyone else.

And with that realisation, the fear that had momentarily gripped him slipped away as he swore there was nothing untoward about the way he felt about her.

He understood the depth of his feelings. For once, his words didn’t fail him, and he explained it plainly: he loved her. All of her. He’d found a sense of purpose and belonging he had never known before. He wanted her to feel cherished. Cared for. To make up for everyone who had ever done her wrong, and equally, showing that he was capable of nurturing in a way that he’d not been shown since his childhood. This was therapeutic for him.

Months later, he’d caught her crying in front of the mirror. An outfit not looking the way she wanted it to. And she did it again. Called herself a ‘lump’. This time, he didn’t laugh. She argued back at him when he told her not to call herself shit like that. That she was gorgeous just as she was. She called him a liar. Spat venom. But he kept on repeating it. That she’s beautiful. That she’s everything. Again and again, even as he fucked her against the mirror, kissing away tears and revering in every inch of her beauty that she despised.

She cried again that night. But this time it was because he had finally begun to turn her self perception on its sorry head.

He needs the soft, yes, but here she realised she needs the rough. The persistent reminders and the tough love.

Sam’s insomnia is a blessing now. He listens to her breathe and watches her eyelids twitch, smiling to himself as he wonders what she’s dreaming about, legs tangled, skin on skin. She hugs his arm into her chest as his other traverses over the curves and bumps and dimples she’s trying so hard to fall in love with the same way he has.

He whispers words of adoration, hoping they'll seep into those dreams, mending the cracks in her fragile self-esteem. And more. Kintsugi.

Sam sighs into her skin. Once upon a time the things he whispers to her would’ve been a front. Cheap flattery. Dive bar bait. Generic honey that drips off of the tongue and down into strangers’ ears so they get lured in just long enough for a moment of selfish pleasure.

But now the honey comes from his heart. The pit of his stomach. The deepest recesses of his mind. Genuine and raw. Just for her. 

It’s frightening. One day you’re single and proud of it, swearing never to shackle yourself down with commitment and societal expectations, and the next, you’re ready to lay down your entire life for the sake of helping someone realise their self-worth.

He knows that loving her isn't just about declaring shallow affection— it's about showing her, in every tender touch and lingering gaze, that she is worthy of worship, exactly as she is. And as he holds her close, thumb smoothing over her cheek as she sleeps, he vows to spend a lifetime proving it.

[teal-fiend]

predatory hunger

summary: You ate your friend just to see what it was like, but there are unexpected consequences

content: f prey, implied fatal vore, pre-vore, pred pov, hunger, nausea

word count: 1k

You ate your friend. You had a feeling it would happen some day; you always wanted to try and eat someone, and your friend seemed like the right person.

Alexa was her name. You knew each other for maybe a year. 

You wanted to test your limits, and see if you had what it took to be a pred. And it worked out well for you. You had a great night of digesting her, it felt right, you had the best sleep of your life. And you woke up with a nice, soft and fat middle. What used to be your friend, now some belly fat, and some other fat all around your body. 

You remember hearing her in your stomach, asking you to let her go, saying anything she could but you couldn’t let her leave you. You didn't think much of it at the time.

Her voice never went away. Long after she had been digested, you could still hear her in your stomach. Or was it in your head? It was hard to tell, it sounded like her voice, it wasn’t your own inner dialogue. It was her. 

And she was telling you to eat more people. 

It seemed out of character from her. If this was her ghost, or just your guilty conscience… Why was it trying to get you to repeat your sins? Were you addicted now? Was this like drugs? A voice that repeats in your head, doing everything it can to get you to do it again? You didn’t do drugs. you were a good girl/boy/nonbinary. 

This was like the only thing you’d done that was decidedly wrong or immoral. And now that there were consequences you didn’t know what to do about it. 

You wanted to ask her other things, but she wasn’t having it. The only thing she wanted to talk about was food. 

“You can see them?” “I know that you’re looking at prey, and I want it.” You looked at the guy again, and Alexa interjected, “yes, that one there, eat him.” “No - I can’t just eat someone in public you know. And I don’t want to anyway.”

You looked over to a burger joint. Maybe that would shut her up.

Yes, you were just hungry, and as a way to cope with the trauma of eating someone alive, your brain has decided to turn that into how you experience hunger. It’d go away once you ate, and soon the voice would disappear entirely. This is just how your brain is processing what happened. 

“Hey, no! I don’t want that kind of food. I want prey”

Her voice sounded louder in your head when she said that, but you ignored her. She yelled at you the whole time as you approached the cashier - it was hard to focus on ordering food while an invisible person was complaining and trying to get you to stop what you were doing, but eventually you did it, you had your meal in front of you. And it looked good, but strangely, at the same time, you didn’t really want to eat it. 

Maybe it was because Alexa was telling you not to eat it. Even if you didn’t want to listen to her, it was hard to ignore what she was saying. 

“Don’t eat it, don’t give me that, I don’t want it.”

You took a bite of the burger. It tasted fine, and it piqued your appetite too.

“No, no, no”

You swallowed and felt it enter your belly. It relaxed you to feel the edge of hunger be softened. Alexa said some things that you won’t repeat. 

You finished it off, and the chips, and patted your belly, sighing happily, because you proved her wrong; your hunger was sated, and you didn’t need to eat anyone for it.

Alexa wasn’t happy about it.

“I don’t want this greasy shit - How dare you. I won’t digest it. I refuse”

You rubbed your stomach, “you better digest it. You can’t decide that anyway - you don’t have that power - I will digest whatever I eat whether or not you agree with me.”

As you said that, you felt your stomach churn uncomfortable, and a slight wave of nausea washed over you.

Did she just do that? Or is it just a coincidence - maybe you just ate too fast.

“I can do worse”

Was this even real? You didn’t want to risk it though, not in public.

“Please don’t make me throw up, I’ll consider giving you prey, but I haven’t eaten in a while so if you don’t let me have this, we’ll both be miserable.”

“I’ll let it slide this time,” she said, “but you better keep your promise”

Just like that, you felt the discomfort subside, and you wondered just how good your brain was at tricking your body into believing its delusions. You needed to go to a doctor or something.

You also think about the fact that you didn’t really promise to eat someone, she just inferred that. Or maybe she’s trying to gaslight you.

“What even are you?” you ask. “You sound like my friend Alexa” (who you ate) “but you’re nothing like her. Or at least, she never tried to make me eat people.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything”

“I guess not. But then what? I have to listen to what you say all the time? With no reason to? No explanation?”

“Yes,” she replied.

You had an idea.

“If I eat someone, will you let me ask you questions?”

The voice, Alexa, was quiet for a moment, thinking. 

“If you eat someone by the end of this day, I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

“That doesn’t really give me a lot of time-”

“I don’t care”

[yellowmasque]

Okay, you guys need to stop

People are actually trying to defend the contradictory, underdeveloped backstory of The Chameleon in Kung Fu Panda by thinking up of every (made up) excuse under the sun. The biggest theory people are using is that Mantis and Shifu are exceptions. Where was that ever said or even implied? In the first movie, it's obvious that people made fun of Po for his fatness, not size. The closest I got with smallness being a thing was Mantis saying something like, "Who am I to judge a warrior based on their size? I mean, look at me." However, did anyone make fun of Mantis, even the villains, for his size? You know Secrets of the Scrolls? You know, the shorts that cover every member of the Furious Five and their struggles before they joined the Furious Five? You want to know what Mantis' struggle was? If you guessed his size, BZRT! You are wrong! It was his patience. His size was NEVER brought up!

Notice how I never mentioned Shifu? Yeah, no one cared about his size, and that was never brought up. Once. Again, not even by the villains, who are supposed to act prejudiced at least a little. It's almost like the writers never cared about his size because size never mattered to them. Ever. Crazy theory, right?

It's a big, giant fact that the writers thought up of her backstory in the last minute. They had ideas, but were scrapped because the director never wanted one in the first place. You want proof? Here you go! Just go to Q14! See? Isn't it great that you have proof for something instead of just mere speculation?! We should do that more!

The. Writing. Is. Bad. Stop trying to pretend that it ever was. It never tried to make sense. It only tried to be a funny panda movie. The fact people are trying to defend a movie franchise that lost its heart (what made it so loved in the first place) is sad.

[therisingkings]

The Witness

Auguste was dead, but his spirit lived on, watching over his brother, witnessing.

Read it on Ao3

TW: Heavily implied canon pedophilia.

*****

“Wait.” The word fizzled out into empty space. “Wait, not yet.”

He was watching the scene from outside his body—from somewhere beyond. He watched Damianos of Akielos pull the sword out of his gut, watched himself fall to the earth, watched his men come swarming in.

Auguste of Vere could do nothing but watch as he died. “This isn’t right,” he said. “This isn’t right.”

He was alone, though, nothing more than a whisper of wind, and no one could hear his pleas.

His body was brought to the royal tent and laid beside his father’s, who had fallen mere hours before.

“No,” Auguste said, and if he could have recoiled, he would have.

Laurent was brought into the room.

“There’s been a mistake. Laurent, I’m right here.” Auguste tried to reach for him, but he didn’t have a physical form in this strange in-between realm.

Laurent’s face crumpled, his knobby knees folding beneath him.

“Please,” Auguste begged anyone who could hear him. “Please, he’s just a boy. He doesn’t deserve to lose his brother. He’s just a boy.”

Laurent was alone in that tent, surrounded by the dead. His face was turned towards the ceiling, shoulders back as he sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.

“I don’t want to watch this,” Auguste said and his own heart, if he still had one, was breaking. No one had loved Laurent like Auguste did and no one ever would again.

Look, a voice whispered.

Laurent’s body shook with the force of his grief.

A figure opened the flap of the tent. It was their uncle, who, Auguste knew, would reign as Regent until Laurent was of age. Laurent, who would be king. Laurent, who would be content with a life of horses and books.

Look, the voice said.

Laurent turned on his knees, into his uncle’s embrace.

“It will be alright,” Uncle said, stroking his blond hair.

Something nasty twisted in Auguste, but he wasn’t sure where it came from.

“Please don’t leave me, Uncle,” Laurent begged, all wide blue eyes and puffy cheeks. He was barely growing out of his baby fat and into his new gangly limbs. His voice had not broken yet.

“I’ll never leave you,” Uncle promised.

Auguste tried to reach out, to scream at Laurent that he was still here, that he was not alone. “It’s all just a bad dream,” Auguste insisted to no one and nothing. “I’ll wake up and I’ll be king tomorrow.”

No, said that voice that was at once everything light and everything dark. This is not your story any longer. It is his.

*****

Auguste wished he had a stomach if only so he could vomit.

He’d trailed Laurent like a dog as the days turned into weeks, then into months. The battle was over. Delfeur was lost. Uncle took over as Regent and set up cleaning efforts. The dead were buried. The injured were mended.

Auguste watched his own funeral. His body was wrapped in fine linen, then cast out to sea. An archer—not Huet, who Auguste would have liked to light his pyre— drew back his bow and launched a flaming arrow onto the floating stack of wood and flesh.

Auguste felt none of it. That was not him, burning in the open ocean, that was a vessel.

And now he was adrift.

Laurent was crying again, getting snot all over Uncle’s jacket.

Uncle rubbed his jeweled hand down Laurent’s back. “It is alright, my boy. Come, you do not need to be here any longer.”

Then he led Laurent to the bedroom, and Laurent was only thirteen and achingly naive and didn’t yet have an instinct for wrongness. When Uncle asked, he obediently disrobed, then knelt and did as Uncle said with a confused knit to his brow.

“Get your filthy hands off of him!” Auguste roared, over and over again. “He is a child. He is your blood.”

Uncle couldn’t hear him as he took his sick pleasure from poor, innocent Laurent. Laurent, who didn’t know better. Laurent, who had just lost his brother and would do whatever Uncle, his only remaining family, asked if he promised not to leave too.

“I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!” But all Auguste was here was a voice, and not even that could be heard.

Laurent cried once it was finished, then cried each and every time it happened again, even when Uncle poured unwatered wine down his throat. Uncle made him clean up, fetch them water, telling him that he would leave if Laurent kept acting like a child.

So, slowly but surely, Laurent quieted his tears to sniffles, and he grew. His voice began to break, his jaw sharpening, and Auguste felt the first glimpses of hope. Surely, Uncle would not want him now, when he was starting to look like a man.

And he was right.

Uncle got a new pet— a boy named Nicaise with startlingly bright blue eyes.

On the night Laurent found out, he collapsed outside of Uncle’s rooms and begged him to take him back. “I’ll do whatever you want,” he sobbed. “Please, please don’t leave me.”

Inside the room, Uncle fucked Nicaise until that boy cried too.

“Laurent, he’s manipulating you,” Auguste tried to tell him. “No adult should ever ask those things of a child, especially a grieving one. That is wrong. You’re a smart boy. You don’t need him.”

And Laurent didn’t. As it turned out, Laurent didn’t need anyone.

He became as sharp and as beautiful as cut glass. At fifteen, he reformed the broken Prince’s guard and took up the starburst banner. He trained with his guard every evening, out of the prying eyes of the palace.

Auguste wanted to tell him that there was no need, that the war was over, that he’d protect him, but what a foolish hope that was.

As Laurent grew into his shoulders and wit, he also grew into his anger. Auguste could see it festering in him. Anger at Damianos, at Uncle, at the world. Auguste couldn’t blame him for one bit of it.

Gone was the bright, shy boy that Laurent had been. That boy had died at Marlas too. In his place stood a man Auguste did not know, with glaciers for eyes and a tongue as sharp as a knife. All kindness had been brutally stamped out of him by Uncle, by the court, by himself. The only person he spared was the boy, Nicaise. Not even his guards, whom he showed respect to, were beyond his ire.

Laurent was sixteen the first time Auguste watched Nicaise stumble, stiff-limbed and wincing, into the physician’s office. His lip was split, the bruise taking up too much of his small face. His eyes widened when he was Laurent, who had sprained his ankle in training and was desperately trying to hide it.

Auguste watched Nicaise’s spine lock up, his little shoulders lifting. “I-I’ll come back some other time.”

“Nonsense,” said Laurent, waving a hand. “Have a seat.”

Pascal finished wrapping his ankle before gesturing Nicaise forward.

If Auguste could have held his breath, he would have had as Laurent’s cool gaze skimmed over the boy.

“Did my Uncle do that to you?”

Nicaise flinched. “N-no.”

“If you want to stay in court, you’ll need to get better at lying.”

And so it began.

Laurent poured all of his knowledge, all of his newfound wickedness into the boy. Nicaise began to follow him around like a lost puppy, eyes huge, hanging on his every word.

Auguste ached. Laurent used to look at him like that.

But just as surely as Laurent had changed, Nicaise did too. The moment there were other people around, he became a spitfire of a boy, vicious and calculating, a mirror of Laurent in every way.

But when they were alone… Laurent let Nicaise win at chess. Laurent held Nicaise while he cried. Laurent became his brother.

Auguste’s heart hurt in a different way now. Like a scar, rather than a wound.

Then came the Akielon slaves, and with them, their Prince.

[ashs-cardboard-box]

Apologetically outspoken

~ Levi/GN!Reader

~ Can be read as platonic or romantic, romantic implied

~ 619 words

..................................................................................................

..................................................................................................

"Sorry I'm so loud.." you sigh heavily as you lean forward and rest your chin atop Levi's thigh, as if a dog begging for table scraps. You had the tendency to be quite obnoxious at times. Often one of the most out-spoken cadets among the Survey Corps, if Eren isn't in the same room, that is.

Levi quirks an eyebrow as he tears his eyes away from the mounds of paperwork piled on the wooden desk in front of him, looking down at you with that signature, expressionless gaze. His long fingers mindlessly feeling over the quill in hand as he stops writing.

With Levi being the captain, the two of you almost never got to spend time together during the day. On those rare occasions you did, one of you always had work to do that the other didn't. Of course, you work your way around that. Currently sitting on the floor next to Levi, in front of the heavy, wooden desk. Your chin resting on his thigh as you look up at him through bright eyes. One of your hands on the ground beneath you, to support your weight. The other hand caressing up and down Levi's shin, over top of his boots.

As much as Levi wouldn't be caught dead admitting that he enjoyed your company, he did. He liked the way the warmth from your hands blossomed across his body with each minute touch. The way your lips pursed with a pout as you figured out the two of you would be extraordinarily busy the next day; only to have it kissed away by him without a second thought.

"You are loud," he murmurs monotonously in agreement as he looks back down to his paperwork. His jet black hair falling over his face, not bothering to move it back, just thinking about how soon he should cut it. "But don't apologize."

Your eyebrows knit together in the middle out of confusion. Your eyes flick over his own closely, as if trying to read what in the world is going on in his mind-- only to fail. Even you couldn't read those micro expressions of his..not yet anyways.

"What do you mean?" You ask quietly, a drastic tone change from your usual, loud-mouthed self. "You hate noise.. tell me all the time how "unnecessarily loud" everyone always seems to be." You point out, quoting the words Levi would mutter under his breath when having to be stuck in a meeting with anyone in the entire regiment.

"That's true, I do." He muses with a hint of a laugh, only amounting to a small breath out of his nose. The familiar drone of silence ringing out throughout the room, interrupted by the scratching of Levi's quill nib scratching ink into the documents.

"But I like that about you...brat." He adds flatly, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible about what he's saying. Subtly stopping his writing again and looking down at you out of the corner of his eye. Though he'd rather get fed to a titan than admit he enjoys your reactions.

Your eyes practically light up with stars at his words, a broad grin splitting across your face, displacing the baby fat stored in your cheeks. Muttering a small "thank you" under your breath as you lay your head on the outside of his thigh appreciatively.

Levi gives a small grunt in response. Reaching his free hand down and gently stroking your hair, his other going right back to writing, as if not doing anything at all. While it wasn't a conventional way of spending time together, the two of you still enjoyed it. Who knows if there could be a tomorrow to enjoy it?

....................................................................................................

im actually kinda proud of this wtf ? m working on an Arthur thing rn but its not as short lolz :3

[syncopein3d]

Broken World

3. I Trust You

Part 1

Part 2

CW: badly injured whumpee, implied past violence, loss of consciousness, bathing, offensive/ignorant cis questions, blood, bruises, broken ribs, difficulty breathing, stranger caretaker, emesis mention.

Robert passed out again while Ripper was hosing him off. It was busy trying to scrub a fat clot off his shoulder, some kind of deep gouge, when it realized he was sliding sideways, mouth slightly open.

“Dammit, Robert!”

It woke him up again by running cold water into his hair. He sputtered, but on the third time he didn’t come up swinging.

“Talk,” Ripper said, pushing him back straighter against the end of the huge tub. “It’ll help you stay conscious.” It groped around with a wet hand and found the water bottle to give him another sip.

“Fuck, that’s good. What you wan’ talk about?” he asked.

Ripper shrugged. This was the longest conversation it had tried to have in years now. “How’d you end up there?”

“They grabbed me from behind a soup kitchen. Big van.” Robert shrugged one shoulder on the side away from the blackened ribcage. “I use’t be strong, but never like that guy.”

“Were you homeless?”

“Yep. Long time now,” he said. Either he’d never cared, or he was too out of it to feel ashamed. “Wan’ guess what jobs there are for slightly strong regen guy?”

“Uh.” Ripper thought about it as they sprayed down Robert’s toes. Clotty black clumps washed away down the drain, revealing the raw nail beds. Robert barely reacted. “Pharma research, C tier meta team, or assassination? Maybe bodyguarding?”

“Grew up in lab,” Robert said. “So I’ve done, huh, three ou’ four of those.”

“You were never an assassin?”

“Never on a meta team,” Robert said.

“So how’d you end up homeless? Killing people pays pretty well if you don’t get caught.”

“Pharma lab found me. Had to lay low,” he said. “Your turn. You a lab rat too, or you a comet kid?”

“My Mom saw the comet while she was pregnant,” Ripper said. “I knew I wasn’t normal, but the world didn’t break until I was about thirteen. The younger kids weren’t like me yet, so I left. Safer for them.”

“Wha’ gonna do with carnite?”

“Sell some. Barter some for services. Barnhardt wants it bad enough they’ll give me anything and not ask questions. If I give you the sprayer, can you do your - ?”

“Yeah. Gimme the soap.”

The Ripper handed over the fancy gel soap (“sandalwood and musk”) and turned far enough away not to look at him directly, but not so far they wouldn’t see sudden movement. They could hear Robert swearing quietly as he worked on washing himself.

“Hit man part din’ bother you,” he said after a second.

“I’ve done things for money I’m not proud of. Now I’m just a thief. Did you kill anyone I’d have heard of?”

“You a cop?” Robert asked, and then laughed until it doubled him over in pain.

“Careful. If you abuse the broken ribs you can get a punctured lung,” Ripper said. “Then I have to dump your ass at Providence Everett.”

“No,” Robert wheezed. “They’ll find me. PharmaCon or 99B, don’ matter. Fucked.” The water ran for a moment, soft and persistent. Eventually he said, “mostly cartel an’ mafia. One billionaire, but he wan’ famous. Edgar Warrington. I’m done.”

“Okay. Probably easier if you let me do the hair.”

“Got any scissors?”

“I’m not a barber. It’ll look bad.”

“Don’ care. Looks bad now.”

“Okay, but you were warned.” The Ripper went to rummage in the sink counter drawers for scissors and haul the trash can back. “Are you gonna freak out if I touch your head?”

“No. I trust you.”

Ripper stared down at him. After a second, Robert opened his eyes again, squinting half-blindly up at them.

“Wha?”

“Nothing. Have another drink. Hold still.” For a while there were only snipping noises. Robert didn’t speak for a couple of minutes, but an occasional noise or movement indicated he was still conscious. Ripper was peripherally aware of his wiry shoulders gradually dropping. Eventually he said, more quietly,

“Wha’ you call yourself? A not man, not woman?”

“Some people say agender, I guess. I don’t really feel non-binary.”

“You got a dick?”

“None of your business.”

“Tha’s not fair. You seen mine.”

The Ripper snorted. “Not because I wanted to.”

Robert laughed, but more carefully. As the Ripper cut away filthy locks, more of a bony jaw emerged. His nose was too swollen and crooked to tell much about, but it might have had a hooked tip.

“How’s it looking?”

“How many times have you been hit in the head? It’s lumpy.”

“Lots, but mostly before the 99B’s. I been shot in the head twice.” He seemed a little clearer. Maybe hydration was helping.

“I don’t think I believe you,” the Ripper said.

“Small cal. I was lucky bo’ times that they dumped me inna trash ‘n not river. Couldn’t ‘member my name for a week once.”

“Uh huh,” the Ripper said.

“Who’d you kill?”

“Are YOU a cop? Don’t laugh again. You’ll hurt yourself.” It tossed the last disgusting hair strand and then the scissors after, reaching for the shampoo. The water was still running, but it was clearer now. It was a weird feeling, washing someone else’s hair. They remembered hair wash day from when they were small. Mom used to give them little scratches, and sometimes they would almost fall asleep, sitting there hypnotized.

“No billionaires,” the Ripper said. “No big names. I got offered Impervious and said no. They sent somebody else, one of the hand-beam types. I think she’s still in jail.”

“I bet,” Robert said. “More water?”

“Here. Did you ever hear of Blackknife?”

“Uh… only visible unner UV lamp?” Robert mumbled. His breathing seemed a little easier. Maybe it was the steam.

“That’s Blacklight, from 25B, the Dark Squad. Blackknife was an enforcer for this crime family in Boston. The McAllisters.”

“Oh, the guy with the spikes,” Robert said “That was news. Big mess.”

“It always is,” the Ripper said. “All right, let’s rinse and then we’ll look at you.”

It was looking at a middle-sized naked man, probably muscular once, now wasted and bony. With his hair newly clean and short and slicked back, his face seemed bigger and the swelling worse, but at least all but the most stubborn and necessary clots were gone. His fingernails were gone, too, something that hadn’t been clear when both his hands were covered in a layered black crust. There wasn’t much of him that wasn’t mottled with layers of old and new bruises. He held his breath when Ripper felt around his sore ribs, but he didn’t fight it.

“One’s broken, definitely. One maybe just cracked.”

“Yeah, I know. It hurt less last time.”

“They just kept working you over when your meta quit?” Ripper asked.

“It just slowed down at first. They hadda keep checking,” Robert said. “See if their – wassus – hydrocarnic sulfate was working.”

“Well, this cut on your face could use stitches, but I don’t know how to do that,” the Ripper said. “Everything else is just time and taking it easy, probably. Unless you’re bleeding internally.”

“I just gotta not die ‘til I can heal, that’s all. Easy.”

“Easy,” Ripper repeated. “Okay. Here, drink the rest while I go find you some pants. If I make cup noodles, can you drink some broth?”

“Yeah.”

They taped gauze over the places that were oozing. Then they helped Robert dry off and get into a pair of their sweats. They half-helped and half-carried him next door to the guest room, where their duffel and water case and box of ramen cups were. This single room was bigger than their mother’s apartment had been, and that was without counting the huge bathroom. The queen-sized bed had a black plush comforter with matching pillow shams. The hardwood floor was covered in blue and black rugs. There was a table and chairs and a matching tv console and dressing set that had probably come from Crate and Barrel. They had that heavy, expensive look.

Ripper piled up pillows behind Robert and pulled the covers up to his chest. Then they went to start the hot water in the fancy copper-colored electric kettle on the console. It had taken the kettle from a tiny upstairs kitchen that was definitely intended for the help.

“Aren’ we leaving DNA around?” Robert asked.

“I’m already going away for life if they catch me. Who cares about breaking and entering? You think you could keep down some acetaminophen?”

“I’m ready to try,” Robert said. He moved uneasily against the pillows. “It usually hurts a lot less than this.”

The Ripper took a couple of the pills itself on the way back and dry-swallowed them out of Robert’s sight. It felt like eating gravel, but they stayed down. They grabbed another two water bottles as they went to check the kettle. There was no bubbling sound yet, so they went to sit on the edge of the bed and feed Robert the four capsules. He cupped their hand with his, but he was too shaky now to try and hold something small. Ripper helped him drink again.

“You’re hot,” they said. “Hold still.” It laid the back of its hand against his forehead.

“Then why’s it so cold?” Robert mumbled.

“You’ve never had a fever?”

“I don’t get sick.” He sounded slightly offended by the idea.

“Well, you’re sick now,” Ripper said, giving him another drink. “Probably pneumonia. You sound like it. How long ago did he break your ribs?”

Robert had to stop and breathe for a second after he had swallowed, wheezing softly, before he could answer. “No clock. No idea. Couple of days?”

“Hm. Well, you’re going to have to stay propped up.” The electric kettle whistled softly. Ripper went to pour the hot water into the ramen cup. It stared at it blankly for a moment after, mind empty, painfully swallowing water. Then they went to get a fork and a mug from the little kitchen. It swirled the noodles around impatiently until they were soft enough to eat and hooked them out with the fork to put in the mug. Sometimes they’d add hot sauce, but that didn’t sound good right now.

“Okay, go real slow with this. I don’t know what your stomach can take, and maybe you’ve never thrown up –“

“No.”

“It makes a mess. And it’ll make you weaker. So do what I tell you.” The Ripper set the mug on the nightstand and helped him get his hands around the styrofoam noodle cup, supporting the bottom until they were sure he wouldn’t drop it.

“I think,” Robert gasped afterward.

“Shut up and breathe, Robert.”

“I think you like telling me what to do.” He ignored the Ripper’s glare from under hood and over mask as he sipped again. “Eat your noodles.”

“I was going to anyway,” it said.

“But now you’re also doin’ what I tell you. Ha.”

Part 4

[cosmic-crybaby]

Blue Skies - Tommy Shelby

Chapter 9: ‘Pretty When She Cries’ 

Warnings in this chapter: Infidelity, cheating (Implied), slight emetophobia. 

Masterlist

---

You had slept in his bed that night. 

The bed was large enough to fit both of you and your two children. Thomas on one end, you on the other while Henry and Elizabeth laid in the middle. You had stirred in your sleep for what felt like hours, finding it harder and harder to have a full night’s rest while the baby continuously grew every passing day.  You slowly sat up in the bed, rubbing the fatigue from your eyes. The double-vision had eventually faded as you looked past your shoulder at the three sleeping figured behind you in the darkness of the night. You quietly remove the covers and slip out of the bed, tip-toeing our of the bedroom and barely leaving a crack in the door. You made your way through the halls, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. 

You remembered you had brought some left-over pastries from the bakery, so you decided to have a midnight snack after skipping dinner earlier that night due to the dreaded nausea that plagued you at random times of your day. You pick up the sweet from it’s tray and set it on a napkin. Hoisting yourself up on the counter as you smile, giddily making yourself comfortable before taking the first bite. Your eyes flutter shut at the sweet taste. You hadn’t had a need for sweets in months, but this moment was pure bliss. Once you had finished it, you wipe your fingers clean with the napkin before folding it and setting it on the counter beside you. You hop off of the counter, carefully and quietly make your way into the hall. 

Stopping short, just before you could reach the grand staircase. 

“So, what do you think of the new lady of the house?” A voice quietly asked as you kept yourself hidden upon their conversation. From the sounds of their voices, you figured it was the young maids.

“She seems very nice...She is nicer than the last one,” The second answered, distracted by their task at hand. The first one chortled. 

“Did you hear she’s pregnant with Mr.Shelbys baby?” 

“Hadn’t they just met?” The other slightly gasped. You furrowed your brows as you tried to listen closer. 

“Not sure...I wasn’t sure if she was pregnant at first or just fat,” One quietly laughed. 

“Shh, that’s not funny,”

“I’m not joking, Francis told me...Do you think her kids are from two different men?” She asked again. You quietly scoffed at the gossip. 

“Enough of that, you’re being cruel...You know, I think you’re just bitter since Mr. Shelby won’t give you the time of day,” 

There was silence, the ruffling of fabric, then a snicker. 

“He already has,” 

You bit your lip as you felt your stomach drop. The sweet you just ate threatening to come up already. 

“Come on, I’m just about done...” The other spoke softly with a hint of discomfort as they disappeared down the hallway. Once they were gone, you let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You held onto the railing as you walked back up the stairs and into the nearest washroom. Spewing the pastry you just consumed into the porcelain bowl, hoping you weren’t too loud to wake anyone up. You flush the sick and wash out your mouth, the sweat and tears combining as you stared at yourself in the mirror. Lifting up your nightgown to look at your figure. Placing a hand over your forehead and heave an annoyed sigh before bringing your hands to your stomach, softly moving them to sit on your hips. 

You still looked light yourself, but you certainly didn’t feel like yourself. You recalled the unnatural feeling and ill at ease during your second pregnancy. Your ex-husbands cluelessness and dismissive attitude wasn’t in your favor either. Never reassuring you that he still loved you or simply saying you looked ‘fine’ when you certainly didn’t feel fine. All you wanted was to make him realize that you just wanted to feel beautiful. 

But this was new. This was different. You didn’t need anyone to make you feel anything. You were in fact beautiful, you just had to remind yourself. 

Taking one last look and with a shake of your head you pushed the nightgown down again. ‘fucking cunt’ you whispered to yourself before leaving the washroom and making your way back to the bedroom. Closing the large door behind you, looked at Thomas’ sleeping figure. Somehow feeling more disgusted with him. The different scenarios ran through your mind at a mile a minute. You laid between Henry and Thomas, creating a barrier as you cuddled into your children, giving yourself some space between yourself and Thomas before attempting to sleep shortly after your body hit the soft mattress. 

That feeling of dread had carried onto the next day. Taking your kids to school, holding their bags as you walked them to the front entrance of the school building.

"Here," you said as you handed them their book bags. "I will see you next week, behave for your father okay? Maybe even ask him to do something fun this weekend," You suggested as Henry nodded quickly along with you.

"Bye, mum," He said happily before running inside. Elizabeth looks at Henry then up at you, reaching for your hands to hold it in her small one.

"Get some sleep mum," She said, her eyes squinting slightly from the bright morning sun as she pats your hand with hers. 

"I will love…I'll see you next week," You nodded before giving her hand a tight squeeze and sending her inside.

That day at the bakery was slow. Something you experienced every year when the weather started to warm up. You decided to close up early and go shopping. New records, tea cups for the bakery, and more equipment to decorate cakes and such. As you carried the supplies out of the Shelby company car that picked you up, you spotted a woman. A tall woman with short dark hair and pale skin. You looked at her, puzzled as she had her back towards you, smoking a cigarette and fidgeting impatiently as she stood at the entry way.

You had cleared your throat, making your presence known. You catch her attention and she turns around, getting a better look at her face. The intimidating look on her hard features was the first thing you noticed. 

"Hello…can I help you?" You asked, the driver coming up beside you and offering to take your bags inside, 'Oh thank you' You smiled before turning to the woman again.

"Is Tommy here?" She asked. You cocked your head a little.

"Why?" You asked suspiciously. She took a few steps down the stairs of the entrance, getting a little closer to you.

"I just wanted to talk to him I-" she said, holding her cigarette in her fingers, her eyes then scan your body and stop at your stomach.

"How do you know him?" Her eyes went back to your own at your question, her seemingly calm brows had faltered.

"I work for him…we're friends," The mysterious woman said. "I also wanted to give him some of his stuff back," She held up a bag. You wearily took it, not bothering to look inside and keeping your eyes on her.

"Right…" You nod your head hesitantly, your eyes just as sharp as hers.

"You must be (Y/n)," Her hands shook a bit and her jaw clenched as she held the cigarette between her fingers up to her lips. 

"I'm sorry I-"

"He left me for you…" She finally admitted. You broke eye contact with her to look off to the side, not wanting to continue the awkward exchange any further with her.

“Things were going well, you know,” She continued, her voice shaking a bit. “Really well actually, and one day he tells me to move out because he got a poor whore pregnant, and that he couldn’t see me anymore,”  She tried to keep her composer, the emotions she felt after finally coming face to face with the other woman. Her eyes were wide and shaken with anger and regret as they glazes with tears. You blink once, not letting your expression change as you nod silently. You understood why she was so upset, you couldn’t blame her. 

“He described you differently to me…said you were a lonely mess with two kids…he said he wasn’t the least bit attracted to you,” She spat. You wore a smug smile on your face and nodded along.

“He said all of that?” You chuckled.

“He said he was doing it for the baby's sake, but you know Tommy…I told him he couldn’t sacrifice his life for someone he’s not in love with,”

“Oh surely not for someone you’re not in love with,” You repeated sarcastically.

“Who knows really,” She shrugged as she waved her cigarette around a bit. “That’s Tommy, right?” She feigned a smile, a hint of snide as she crinkled her nose.

“He would say anything to get out of trouble,” She nodded, taking a puff from the half-gone cigarette. “I’m sure you know what he’s like,”

“I don’t really…I obviously don’t know him like you do but you’ve made your point,” You raised your brows a bit to hide the gut wrenching feeling inside.

“Just make sure he gets his things,” She said before flicking the cigarette to the gravel and descending down the steps and you watch her leave. You couldn’t blame her for how she was feeling or for the harsh words she spoke. But you could blame him for keeping this from you. If it was one thing you hated about the men in Birmingham was that almost all of them have had shameless affairs and lie to the women in their lives.

Once you were inside, you looked through the contents of the bag. A white shirt, a few pieces of jewelry, an old cigarette case, and a gun holster. You shake your head repeatedly, the tears already spilling down your cheeks and onto your dress like rain. You were angry, sad, betrayed. You blame yourself for being so naïve to be with someone like him. To think you could trust someone like him. You hated how you believed his words, his touch, the nice things he does for you and your children…it was all fake. Deep down you knew this was going to be the case, but you never wanted it to come to this. 

After contemplating on what to do next, you packed what little you had at his home. Some of your clothes and your kids' clothes that invaded the drawers of the dresser in his room. You somehow managed to pack it all into two cases, leaving the gifts and dresses he had given you. If you were going to leave him, you planned on leaving him completely. You didn’t want any traces of him left.

Just when you thought you could leave undetected, his car had already pulled into the driveway as you were setting your things in the trunk of yours.

“(Y/n)…(Y/n)!” He called as he took fast steps to approach you. Closing the trunk you turned to him, your cheeks, nose, and corners of your eyes were red and raw from crying so much. You had a stern expression on your face as you stood with your arms crossed over your chest.

“What are you doing?” He asked, attempting to place his hands on your cheeks. The sight of you flinching from his touch caused him to exhale heavily before slowly putting his hands down by his sides.

“Your friend stopped by,” You told him. He looked at you in confusion. “You left some things at her house,” You explained. It was like it clicked in his head which “friend” you were talking about. He sighs and runs a hand over his forehead, looking up at the sky a bit before returning his blue eyes back to you.

“Listen- (Y/n) listen to me…nothing happened,” You shook your head.

“I don’t know that I believe you, I heard what the maids said, I know what you had said about me to her,” You began to choke up as you tried to look away from him. You couldn’t stand looking at him anymore.

“Sweetheart, I have been faithful to you completely, ever since we made the decision,” He told you, under other circumstances you would think his words were reassuring but now you couldn’t help but feel like he was lying.

“Thomas I don’t know what’s true or what’s made up,” You glared at him. “Be honest with me…right now that’s all I ask of you or else I’m leaving,” You threaten. His lips parted as he stared at you. He sighs heavily, turning away to wipe his fingers over his lips. He then steps in front of you again, visibly less tense than before. 

“She came to the office earlier to speak to my aunt Polly and she came to talk to me, all I did was ask for my things back,” He explained. You stayed silent and finally gazed up at him.

“I…I just don’t think I can trust you right now,” You whispered.

“So that’s it eh?” He threw his hands up in frustration as he slightly shook his head. 

“Yeah…Say goodbye,” You whispered, you couldn’t spare another second speaking to him. Your head and heart ached and your eyes burned from the tears.

“No, (Y/n), I won’t,” He held your face in his hands. You grimaced at him, trying not to cry even more than you already did. With your heart beating rapidly and your stomach in knots, you look at each other. A glimpse of hope in his eyes before you moved his hands away from your cheeks.

“Goodbye, Thomas,” You uttered the words as you looked away and turned to the back seat of the car. And with that, you were leaving Arrow house. 

Back at your home, you thanked the driver one last time before heading inside. The usual comfort and warmth was now vacant and cold. Sitting on the couch that went unused for the time you were gone, you stopped yourself from crying but the sadness was still there. You wanted nothing more than to just hug and kiss your kids to fill that void. You had changed into something more comfortable and warm before calling a cab to take you to the place you had been avoiding all these years.

London.

---

Tag List: 

Read Pinned Post If You Would Like To Be Added

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[g0rechan]

If Sybaritic were on ✨TvTropes✨

(Will add more)

Sybaritic

-Affectionate nickname: Subverted, since Gabin and Sisley don’t like each other. “Gabi” for Gabin by Sisley, “Sissy” for Sisley by Gabin- more cruelty, “Pissley” when they were younger.

-Aristocrats are evil

-Asshole victim: Some of Gabin’s and Philippe’s victims.

-Because you were nice to me: Philippe with Gabin, and Nicolette with Gabin and Philippe, respectively.

-Big, screwed up family: The Alaries. Paul is a groomer and an unloving husband/father, Anne is a mentally unbalanced child abuser, and their son is a depraved sociopathic rapist who grew up to be one of the biggest menaces in France, possibly in half of Europe.

-Bittersweet ending

-Black comedy rape: Gabin sure loves to joke about it in his works and irl.

-Crapsack world: Sybaritic essentially depicts an exaggerated and humorously grim depiction of the French Revolution, where characters are either victims or torturers (or both); bloodthirsty revolutionaries or selfish, greedy aristocrats.

-Cold Blooded torture: Poor Marie...

-Disproportionate retribution - no matter how annoying and stuck up Marie was, she did not deserve what happened to her.

-Eye scream: Eyeball licking is a fetish for Gabin and Philippe.

-French jerk: 90% of the characters in this story.

-Fridge horror: It is unclear when Gabin contracted his venereal disease, but if hypothesized that it began in his teenage years, he would have unknowingly infected Sisley, Philippe, Nicolette, and numerous others in Paris. This also implies that he spread the infection to several people throughout southwestern and Eastern Europe during his sexual escapades in his later adult years

Paul’s creepy comments towards his own daughter when she turned 12… Luckily, this happened a couple months before the reign of terror started, as they never saw each other after this.

-Gorn: some moments, mainly during the reign of terror.

-Groin attack: It's what Philippe always wanted🔪🌭

-Historical domain character: Marie Antoinette, Louis XVI, Napoleon Bonaparte, Josephine Bonaparte, and Maximillian Robespierre all make appearances.

-Kids are cruel: Gabin and his friends when they were younger

-Madonna-Whore complex: Nicolette and Brigitte

-Moral event horizon: Gabin and Anne reach this, literally at the beginning of the story.

Philippe after he chose to not do anything about Sisley’s abuse, SA’d and killed his dog, and regularly took part in Gabin’s sadistic escapades

-No yay: Gabin x Philippe

-Pooping where you shouldn’t: a prostitute with fecal incontinence shits all over one of Gabin’s bed, much to Philippe’s delight.

-Rape as drama

-Vomit indiscretion shot: Get ready. There’s gonna be a good few in this story….

-Villain with good publicity: Gabin’s parents and Philippe’s parents

Gabin Alain Rosaire Alarie-Sade

-At least I admit it: When confronted by his mother about his pornographic sketches and writings. As a matter of fact, whenever he’s confronted or condemned by anyone for his beliefs and writings.

-Bad people abuse animals: Kicks Philippe's dog or street cats whenever they brush up against his leg.

-Beauty is bad

-Big brother bully: a rather dark example. Gabin has tormented Sisley ever since she was a toddler, from pushing a 3-year-old her into a patch of thorns or down the stairs when she was 5. His cruelty towards her became more depraved as time went on…

-Bratty half pint: as a child.

-Deliberately cute child: once again.

-Depraved bisexual

-Domestic abuse: on his sister, Philippe, and many of his past and present relationships

-Drunk on power

-Entitled bastard

-Evil desires innocence

-Evil feels good

-Extreme libido

-Fat bastard: in old age lmao

-Formerly fit: once again, in old age hehe

-Hair flip: He has his moments.

-Irrational hatred: For some inexplicable reasons, harbors a lot of animosity towards pregnant woman (even has a fetish for hurting them). It’s also implied that he hates Sisley for strange and petty reasons, or even no reason at all, particularly when they were younger.

-Jerkass

-Kick the dog: A lot of his victims were innocent people who didn’t do anything to him. Some of them were actually good people who tried to help him or did good things for him.

-Kick the son of a bitch: Some of his victims aren’t exactly good people either, ex: Philippe

-Lack of empathy

-Laughably evil

-Light is not good

- Loving bully: Towards Philippe

-Naked people are funny: Stripping in his cell to freak out the guards during the reign of terror 🤦🏻‍♀️

-Nobody touches the hair: Doesn’t take kindly to strangers ever so getting their hands near his hair.

-Pet the dog: He has his moments with Nicolette and Philippe

-Politically incorrect villain: Looks down on women and is quite misogynistic in his writings. He also implied once that the reason Philippe is unmarried and lives with him is because he is feeble-minded and cannot hold up a job or even count past 10.

-Really gets around

-Sadist: I mean, he's literally based off the guy whose name inspired the term.

-Screw the rules, I have money!

-Serial rapist

-Spoiled brat

-The bully: Specifically as a child.

-The hedonist

-Too kinky to torture

-Toxic friend influence: Played with in his relationship with Philippe.

-Villainous incest: Frequently rapes and molests Sisley. Has eyed up some of his cousins as well🤮

-Wasted beauty

-Would hit a girl

-Would hurt a child: Sisley and his child victims later on in the story…

Philippe Babineaux

-Ambiguously bi- He seems to be quite afraid and even repulsed by women, but he fantasizes about being sexually dominated by them and even engages in sexual acts with Nicolette and several female prostitutes.

-Bad people abuse animals: Philippe kills his dog, rapes and performs sexual acts on several animals throughout the story.

-Beauty is bad

-Bestiality is depraved: see above

-Beware the quiet ones: No ever suspected Philippe of ever doing terrible things due to his shy and quiet nature.

-Bishounen

-Bully magnet

-Butt monkey: At times.

-Extreme omnisexual: won’t hesitate to engage in sexual acts with animals, dead bodies, and inanimate objects. Once engaged in a threesome with Gabin and a tree.

-Fetishes are weird: see above.

-Freudian excuse

-Green eyed monster: Doesn't take kindly to an annoying girl who tries to flirt with Gabin...

-In touch with his feminine side: Enjoys donning on of the dresses of his and Gabin’s child victim

-Jerkass woobie

-Perpetual frowner

-Pretty boy

-Prone to tears

-Psychopathic manchild: in his final years.

-Spoiled brat

-The quiet one: Philippe rarely speaks unless spoken to.

-Took a level in Jerkass: Subverted. He was always a bad person and Gabin just gave him the push he wanted.

-Wasted beauty

Nicolette

-Adorable precocious child: Nicolette had been book smart from a young age, with a mischievous side that loved playing harmless pranks and knew how to get away with it.

-Book smart

-Bookworm

-Brainy Brunette

-Earn your happy ending

-Dark and troubled past

-Ditzy genius

-Plucky girl: Not noticeable at first, due to her depressive nature at the start.

-Nice girl

-Only sane by comparison: Compared to her two “friends”, Gabin and Philippe.

-Quirky curls

Sisley Elise Alarie

-Big eater: Has a big sweet tooth, much to her mother’s dismay.

-Dark and troubled past

-Hair of gold, heart of gold

-Happily married: to Enrico <3

-Innocent blue eyes

-Light is good

-Motor mouth: Sisley’s a chatty girl, which only gives her mother more reason to hurl abuse her way.

-Nice girl

-Rape as backstory

-Stepford smiler

-The cutie

-White sheep: The only good one in her family.

-Woobie

Paul Alarie/Marquis Alarie

-Covert pervert

-Faux affably evil

-Mean boss: is rude to the servants and regularly screams at them.

-Screw this, I’m outta here: practically saved himself from getting beheaded

-Slimeball: Beneath his charismatic and shrewd facade, Paul is a greedy, manipulative, and selfish creep. He is motivated solely by self-interest with no care for others, including his own family.

Anne Louise Sade

-Abusive parent

-Berkserker tears: Has them when arguing with Paul

-Chain of harm: was abused by her own mother growing up, only to do the same to her daughter years later.

-Mean boss: like her husband, she screams at and insults servants whenever they mess up.

-Pet the dog: is kind to her daughter at times, and promises to stop abusing her.

-Proper lady

Brigitte

-Deadpan snarker

-Ethical slut

-Loveable alpha bitch

Marquis Babineaux

-Abusive parent: is cruel to youngest son and regularly verbally abuses him. He enjoys humiliating and striking fear into Philippe as “punishment” for his strange behavior.

-Fat bastard

-Parental favoritism: his two eldest sons

-Slimeball

Madame Babineaux

-Abusive parent: She verbally abuses Philippe and never shows him any love or affection, does the same to her two eldest sons.

-Female misogynist

-Gossipy hen: Talks shit about everyone, even people she’s on good terms with.

-Narcissist

-Shameless self-promoter

Enrico Guerrini

-Happily married: to Sisley <3

-Rags to riches: Not exactly rich, but his family is in a much better financial condition.

-Tall, dark, and handsome

Pierre

-Because you were nice to me: It’s implied that Pierre has no friends or loving parental figures present in his life and started a relationship with Gabin because of the latter reason.

-The stoic: He speaks in a monotonous voice, rarely showing any emotion, with his face almost always set in the same deadpan expression.

Philippe’s older brothers

Big brother bully: While not to the extent- or cruelty of their parents, they pick on Philippe and make fun of him for his personality and the way he looks.

Name drop: I’ll be dropping both their names sometime in the story, for now, you can message me if you want to know their names.

Pet the dog: They do have their nicer moments with their younger brother.

[reidsaurora]

hi hi. :)) me annoying my writer friends, so of course i have to come find you.

emily x cj (of course, i think jay has the tag, so it’s a thing 😂)

an angsty, happy ending birthday fic. everything is up to you.

"A Not-So-Happy Birthday" ~ E. Prentiss

Summary: Somehow, word gets out that it's your birthday, and the response is not at all what you're expecting.

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x GN!Reader (that's of course implied to be CJ)

Word Count: 883

Content Warning: overall angsty, mentions of food, slight family drama but not really, lmk if i missed anything!!

Genre: Angst to implied Fluff

Extra Notes: i hate the summary too akshsjhs

Based On: the aforementioned request from CJ, my beloved 🫶🏻

Originally Written: 01/23/2022

Beta Read By: @ssahotchnerr

Criminal Minds masterlist can be found here!

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"Why didn't you tell anyone it was your birthday?"

A simple enough question, but it was enough to finally break you. The tears you'd been holding back since you woke up that morning finally released, fat droplets of repressed tears soaking your heated cheeks.

You'd worked with the BAU for three years now, and not once had you made it a point to tell them what day your birthday fell on. After all, what was there to tell? Your own family never made it a point to celebrate your birth, why would your colleagues who you hardly knew?

But by the time your birthday rolled around again, the third one you'd celebrated as a BAU agent, you'd come to know your colleagues as much more than that. By this point, they were your closest friends. You knew that if you told them, they'd go all out and decorate the whole office in decorations for you.

But maybe that's why you never said anything. Penelope would cover the office in streamers and balloons while JJ would spend the night before baking every sweet thing known to mankind. And don't even start on Spencer's impeccable taste in gifts.

You'd planned on treating this day like you would any other. You'd wake up, have breakfast, get to work, and get things done. If you were lucky, you'd treat yourself to one of those single slices of vanilla cake from the grocery store.

But somehow, word had gotten out that today was your birthday. When you arrived at the office, someone had left flowers and a blue balloon with "Happy Birthday" written in the curliest cursive font you'd ever seen.

When you walked in, you locked eyes with Emily, who had quite the questioning look on her face. And when you spotted Penelope and Spencer standing by your desk and eating cupcakes, you knew. Someone had figured you out, or rather your birthday. And from the looks of it, they either loved you a lot or (your more likely scenario) this was some kind of sick joke.

You turned on your heels and sprinted out of the room, but not fast enough to beat the clicking of Emily's favorite black boots following behind. She grabbed your wrist, her fingertips heating your skin like a matchstick, and pulled you into one of the empty offices.

"Why didn't you tell anyone it was your birthday?" she asked, her tone soft but inquisitive.

You were rendered speechless. How could you possibly explain not telling them about your birthday? No matter what you said, you knew you'd end up embarrassed and insecure.

You sat down in the lone office chair, hanging your head in your hands. Tears gushed out of your eyes, sobs wracking your body.

Emily stooped down in front of you, placing a kind and comforting hand on your knee. "Y/N?"

You managed to look up, wiping away some of the excess tears on your face. "How did you find out?"

"Penelope did," she answered. "Her own birthday was last week, so she got curious and looked up yours. She hated that we've never celebrated you so she wanted to change that."

Your heart panged with a slight feeling of selfishness. You knew they'd never understand why you hated your birthday, but you also knew they'd respect your feelings either way if you'd just told them.

"Why didn't you tell us it was your birthday?" she repeated, lifting your chin with her index finger, wiping away a one-off tear that had slipped down to your chin.

You let out a long breath, thinking over your response in your head. Finally, you answered, "Ever since I was younger, I've hated my birthday. Most of the time, my family just forgot about it, but when they did remember it, they never made a point to make it special. Once I moved out, I just decided I didn't have a birthday. Or rather, no one would know that I did."

Emily took a small breath before helping you up from the chair. Her hands sat on either side of your face, her chocolate eyes nearly burning a hole straight through you. No matter how hard you tried, you could never pull yourself away from her gaze. "Y/N, you should know by now that we would never do that to you. You might be blood-related to those people, but we're your real family. We love you. I love you."

Her words shouldn't have shocked you, but they did. The way she made it a point to protect you on cases, the way she always took your extra paperwork, the way she knew exactly how you took your coffee. She did love you, and some part of you probably always knew that, but now it had been confirmed for all of you.

She pulled you in for a feather-light kiss on the forehead before her arms wrapped tightly around your torso. "Please don't ever hide anything like this from me again."

You gave her a half-smile before leaving a ghost of a kiss on the corner of her mouth. "I wouldn't dream of it."

"Now then," she said, a toothy grin appearing on her face, "why don't we go make up for lost time and celebrate all those birthdays you never told me about?"

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

ok yeah i can't decide if i love or hate this but!!!! happy birthday, @lcvingprentjss!! i hope this year is the best one yet! i hope you get everything you wished for and that you get to wat a big ol' slice of vanilla cake! (maybe even eat an extra piece for me, ok?)

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[theknightlywolfe]

Spoilery rambling thoughts on The Marvels under the cut

I am so happy we're getting Maria Rambeau content, even if it is mostly alt reality Maria. It would be interesting to see X-Men pulled into main Marvel by America going over to bring Monica back to her home universe. Which means does SABER know about America? They're well informed but she ended up with the wizards. I'm sure there's a file after the attack in New York in MoM but then to the rest of the world she would have disappeared. Or is that going to be the plot of Young Avengers 1, Kamala meeting a trained America and then going to get Monica back?

I know why Kamala goes to Kate (is that a new apartment Ms. Bishop? Smart) but while Kate no doubt knows there is a saviour of Jersey City, not that it is Kamala. Where was the power demonstration and how long does Kamala think she can run things with 1) Kate's penchant for ignoring orders and 2) the fact that she is a high school kid. Again, child soldiers much? And really at some point Kamala is going to blab about how she snuck the tablet in the chaos of the initial fight in her house. And while Kate would respect the guile it also would reveal that Kamala doesn't have the safety net/backing she implies.

Goose! Mama Goose! Do flerkens reproduce asexually or is there a male flerken she hooked up with while catching a ride on Carol's shoulder? Where are the babies? I can't imagine Goose being happy with being separated from them for long so quickly, but they are a menace in quantity and no way the crew will accept them on the SABER platform. Are they in Louisiana with Carol on the farm? Did they warn the neighbors?

Did they touch up Hailee's face to make it more angular? I had to do a double take when they showed her face because it looked off. Not oh she is losing the baby fat off, but like cgi off. I know I mentioned before that I hate her uniform because it is zero protection but I hate Kate's uniform because she might as well wear a t-shirt.

I thought Dar Benn was a good character. Completely wrong casting, but a good character. I just couldn't take the actress seriously and half the times the camera cut to her it just threw me out of the movie. Not that she is bad actress, honestly she didn't do much acting in the role and was emotionally written very one note so its not like she could show any range. But she tried to be menacing and it was laughable. And she had no presence, she was just there saying lines and swinging a reused prop. Maybe if Ronan hadn't been the only person with one of those battle hammers maybe I would accept it as a "universal weapon". If it is meant to convey rank, why did Ronan have it before the fall of Hala when he was taking orders from Yon Rogg?

Secret Invasion makes both more and less sense if this was supposed to be before it. It makes more sense for the Skrull presence on Earth but less sense for Fury's arc. It makes more sense if it is after for Fury's arc and it explains why Carol had to call King Valkyrie to get the Skrull survivors instead of Fury and why the Skrulls manning SABER in Spiderman FFH are now gone but also, why would anyone trust Fury after the very public fuck up in SI in the square and his very literal going rogue for the whole of it? Why do Carol and Monica never bring up him getting Talos killed? Or anyone warning Carol about the very real political shit storm relating to Skrulls on Earth? Why did they even bother making Secret Invasion if it so clearly doesn't fit in to their own storyline?

And really, how funny would it have been if they hadn't done SI with all its bullshit and at the end of the Kate scene Maria Hill walks in and is like "gimme that tablet back" and Kate and Kamala both go full fangirl.

Speaking of fangirls, I did like the nod of Monica acknowledging she not only knows Kamala write fanfic about her Aunty Carol but also that she had read some of it.