#3 of 72

[voiceoffenrisulfr]

Multitudes Chapter Three A Widow Will Always Fight...

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 -> Sit-down meals were never Nat's forte.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 -> 1162

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 -> (E) disordered eating habits, purging, exercise as self-punishment

𝐀/𝐍 -> Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Please read the tags, and proceed with caution. Disclaimer - this work is a reflection of our own experiences with negative self-image, self-harm, eating disorders, and suicidal ideation. It is not a portrayal of any other individual's experiences and should not be taken as such. Check it out below, or on AO3 here! This snazzy divider comes from @firefly-graphics and I love it <3

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I found myself sat quite unwillingly, the heels of my hands tucked into the long sleeves of my sweatshirt as best the cast would allow.

Tell him you don’t like noodles. Tell him you’re allergic to sesame. Tell him you don’t eat meat any more. Tell him anything. You can’t eat that.

I don’t have a choice, I argued weakly, spinning my fork through the sauce-slicked pasta, pieces of bacon clinging to the liquid fat stubbornly. If I don’t eat…

They don’t have to know, The Voice replied, oddly soothing and soft. People with actual eating disorders can hide food in plain sight. I know you have less willpower than them, but are you really so stupid as to not be able to get some stuff off that plate without shoving it down your throat?

I can always make myself sick, I protested, avoiding Clint’s eyes as he sat opposite me, watching me calmly.

Be smarter. Operate under the assumption that you can’t – that they won’t give you the opportunity. It’s better to just never take it in to start with.

I nodded minutely, thoughtful, fork still twirling around and around. Clint, to his credit, had opted to eat with me, garlic bread on a shared plate between us, a mug of water on either coaster.

It could almost be a date. If it wasn’t for the fear and force.

Another flash - this time, it was Clint’s face, hard and without sympathy as his hands grasped my wrists.

I took a sip of water to wash away the bile in my throat, devoid of any external reaction as I carefully reburied the memory.

The meal was staggered and slow, with Clint pacing himself with me – no doubt trying to minimise the time he was there explicitly to watch me.

Fortunately, his divided attention turned out to be a blessing. While one of my baggy sleeves wasn’t an option – I didn’t fancy trying to explain ants in my cast to Bruce – the other was free and clear, and slowly becoming inundated with carefully squeezed noodles, flicked from the end of my fork when Clint’s eyes were on his plate. Other pieces were squirreled into my napkin, or chewed up, false swallowed, and spat into my mug. I was cutting, smearing, and spreading like a pro – particularly proud of a thick wedge of bacon hidden inside a burnt breadcrust. There was a shocking amount of pasta sauce plastered in places that one should never have pasta sauce; in the end, however, less than a quarter of my now-empty plate made its way into my stomach, although even that felt like a rock in my abdomen, pressing against the (noodle-encrusted) waistband of my joggers. Clint, fortunately, seemed to eat almost mechanically, reaching for piece after piece of the buttery garlic bread without thinking about the ratio.

I sat back carefully, fingertips clamped over the ends of my sleeves, and delicately rubbed my swollen stomach. “That was amazing, Clint. Thank you.”

Not making a fuss was definitely the better option – I’d never have gotten away with most of that if he had reason to suspect me.

They will continue to be suspicious from here on. You need to get better. You did well… But not well enough.

I’ll keep trying, I enthused, fighting the urge to grin at my meagre success. I’ll keep getting better. They’ll be pleased when I go back, I promise.

“It’s no problem,” Clint replied easily, stretching back in his own chair with a groan. “I’m glad you got some food in you… And I’m sorry if I overreacted,” he added gently, his gaze cutting to mine for a heartbeat. “You were right. I should have trusted you. And you’ve proved me wrong, okay? Let’s leave it alone now, Nat.”

I did smile then, warm and ingenuine. Oh, Clint…

No. He doesn’t care about you. Only the Red Room cares. They’re the only ones who ever tried to make you better. Clint – and all the others – they just want you to be fat and easy. They will never understand you… Not like I do.

“Thanks, Clint,” I answered, that same smile still solid on my lips. “It’s okay. I understand – you were just worried. But see? I’m fine. Just a bit hot, a bit tired, and a bit of a fall.”

I escaped back to my room in peace, after fighting to reign in my enthusiasm about clearing up the plates. Clanking dishes hid the sound of my carefully placing food into the trashcan, dragging Clint’s cooking scraps over the top, effectively erasing my sins.

I sighed as I peeled the food-encrusted clothes from my body, wincing as scraps of noodles hit the floor with a wet splat, thick and unappetising.

You still ate too much. You need to get rid of it.

Another sigh, this time as my underwear hit the ground. “We hid most of it, didn’t we?”

Not enough. Do you want to be stuck here, is that it? Too fat to be of use – to even move? If you can’t get out of bed, it’ll be really easy to-

“Okay, okay,” I muttered, pressing my fingers to my closed eyelids forcefully. “Okay.”

The sound of the shower covered my retching, the gel poured into the running water smothering the worst of the odour as I straightened from where I knelt over the toilet, uninjured hand slick to the second knuckle and clutching the porcelain desperately. I rolled the knots from my shoulders, ribs singing in protest at the dry heaving, and stepped under the spray of the water, tipping back my head to rinse the acrid taste from my mouth.

It was, blissfully and briefly, silent in my mind.

It was the only time I could see my reality.

My gaze lingered on the blood-red cast, carefully bagged and held away from the stream, the slight purple bruising of my fingertips the only indication of the injury underneath. Eyes trailed along my arm and paused on the crossed, cross lines on my bicep, open and angry, the thin layer of bubbled fat starkly yellow against the red maw, visible muscles straining as I moved.

I sighed, scrubbing the last of the food from my body and the bile from my chin before flicking off the shower, trembling body stepping into the cool of the bathroom. Despite myself, I found my gaze moving to the mirror, watching with morbid fascination the popcorn chain of my vertebrae, sharp shoulder blades carved like ethereal wings from marble.

I looked… Sick.

You look strong, The Voice countered proudly, the words a caress on my beaten flesh.

“Oh, you’re back, are you?” I muttered insolently, then bit my cheek, cursing my lack of control.

Push ups. Now. You’re still too fat, too weak. They won’t want you like this.

I let out a world-weary sigh, lowering my abused body to the ground, starved muscles screaming in protest as I began my punishment.

[wigglesdtuff]

A splash of color

[a-lost-crow]

Kung Lao you will die at 5/16/2025 at 4:36 pm in Outworld

Jk I love him he’s my bbygirl. + bonus doodle

Sketch without text below

[adeleine-everyday]

day 72

professional dancer

[finncakes]

slowly but surely catching up....🌿

[wifihunters]

merry christmas to me i have now checked off "built new pc from scratch and didn't Fuck It Up" from my life achievements

[lilacsocietyart]

72 Hours - Page 3

<<Pages 1-2 | Page 4>>

[reszka]

034

Sticker designs

[nahoney22]

Wait

A

Damn

Second!!!

Star Wars tiktok a crosshair stan through and through 🤪🤪

[m-kaeru]

[vilalyra]

The Anatomy of Adam Parrish 🌿

[soliusss]

HES WHAT

[rinniessance]

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ daydreaming at last ~

꒰ ange 〳angie, bunny girl, turbulent 20s ~~ ・゜゜・． satosugu's spoiled princess and rin's little doll .ᐟ.ᐟ i post and interact with nsfw and dark content so minors, do not interact. i block ageless and empty blogs ༊*·˚ ꒱

꒰ i love love love talking to people, come and chat with me about anything .ᐟ.ᐟ pro-self shipper .ᐟ.ᐟ ꒱

꒰ rules〳byf・゜゜・．masterlist．・゜゜・about me ꒱

꒰ come and get your piece of cake ꒱

ready. set. go - satosugu x cam girl f!reader (nsfw, 1.8k)

daddy’s favourite girl - step-dad!gojo x f!reader (dark content, nsfw, 5.1k)

between a rock and a hard place - leon kennedy x f!reader x satoru gojo (resident evil au, nsfw, 5.8k)

faith - suguru geto x f!reader (nsfw, 6k)

teenage fever - satosugu x f!reader (fluff, 11.6k)

toxic lover fm - multi anime men series (jjk, bllk, bsd) - coming soon .ᐟ

© rinniessance do not steal, plagiarize or translate my works. do not recommend me on tiktok, thank you

[lilacjunimo]

thank u to twitter user gooserodi for answering my question from this post even if unintentionally

btw there are ten plans that we know of so far

[bewitchedmold]

I WANNA DRAW JOTAKAK FANART SO BADDD like I've never really cared for drawing ship art unless it's satire but I've gone down the jotakak ship rabbit hole and now I'm an obsessed little freak like omg dawg wtf😭

[captain-price-unofficially]

War in Donbas, 12 April 2014– 24 February 2022 (7 years, 10 months, 2 weeks and 4 days)