#tw; issues with appearance

[terrence-silver]

What do you think terry would do if he found his beloved crying in the mirror because they didn’t like the way they looked??

What's his reaction? Crinkled nose of anger. 👇🏻

Might just get straight into his beloved's face, trespassing the personal bubble to lecture them about it, pissed off as he would be. I mean, look at this --- it's in his habit, after all.

---

He likes how they look --- adores how they look, in fact.

And his opinion is just about the only one that matters and should matter.

But, fact is, Terry Silver's openly offended on beloved's behalf, and he is very likely to just downright...hotheadedly argue them that they're so very wrong and that he wont stand for this, lack of a better word, bullshit. Because that's what it is to him. It's bullshit. Did someone say something to them? Should he ensure someone's teeth gets kicked in? Who should he fire? Retaliate against? Should he be here concocting revenge? Against how many people? One? Two? Ten? Should he have his people track someone down? Set their house on fire as payback? Should he have every mirror in the mansion smashed with his own two fists? Should he do the opposite and have even more ordered and brought in so beloved has no choice but to, quite literally, face themselves everywhere they turn? Terry's willing to create an enemy out of this, purely to have who and what to decimate for beloved, hoping that in doing so, they'll see what he sees in them and nothing else, because that's the only accurate point of view to have --- but if this enemy simply stems from beloved's own mind and internal insecurity and no place else, he takes on the approach of a Sensei and coaches and wears them down with some very adamant pep talks and counsel, aggressively at that, until they pretty much have to capitulate and accept they're beautiful because Terry Silver's a difficult person when he wants to be and he wont let this issue go until they do. He won't let this issue go until he wins.

Until their thoughts, outlook and views match his.

Man's gonna force motivation on beloved, whether they like it or not.

Might even come off as a bit insensitive with how he tackles the problem initially, but that's merely because Terry's likely to be so infuriated that beloved thinks they're ugly or in some way lacking (and by extension, insulting themselves and him through it as well --- insulting his good taste and ability to choose only the best) that he can't exactly approach the issue in a tremendously gentle manner, because he doesn't approach stupid conclusions in a gentle manner. This is an issue that beloved has to let him burry and burn if they don't want it spiraling out of control.

Not to mention --- it's downright dangerous for beloved to do anything but.

Because someone might just innocently get hurt seeing as how Terry absolutely won't sit down until he doesn't find and discover who or what is responsible for making beloved feel this way and might even wrongly someone's that they've been disrespecting his beloved and giving them wry looks continuously to have resulted in this complex purely so he could take his anger out somewhere --- anywhere. Safe to say Terry Silver takes beloved belittling themselves in any way extremely to heart and he feels more impassioned on the subject than beloved themselves.

Beloved tears ain't for free. Very expensive, in fact.

Priceless.

Someone's gotta pay dearly for them.

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XXVI)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts 💚 (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... Danny has another hashtag breakdown! Diana helps mediate. Stinky Dad and the Alien Guy observe.

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

“His control over his emotions slipped during the interview,” J’onn sighs, hovering alongside Bruce as they carry down the hall.

Bruce grunts. He isn’t quite capable of complicated speech yet. The teenage alien crying, too scared to let even the internationally-favorite, universally beloved Wonder Woman hold him without screaming…a person he already knew would take care of him…

J’onn continues, nevertheless. The thin privacy of his mind aside, Bruce has always appreciated the Martian’s understanding of Bruce’s oft-shifting moods. “His memories of his home and his family were tied up with extensive pain. I would continue under the assumption that his human family turned on him after discovering his nature—there may have even been collateral damage to others around them at the time.”

Bruce breathes in. Bruce breathes out.

“He thought himself akin enough to humans to be betrayed when he was seen as an 'other'. He knows that he is far from home, he knows that he has been targeted for his non-human traits and abilities, and he has reasons to think that he may not return again—what they are, I could not tell, but the sentiment was clear. This escape was purposeful, as was commandeering the vehicle he used to do so. He is alone. He is scared.”

“Known or unknown threat?” Bruce growls, not quite up to elongating his bite into a full sentence. J’onn is more than skilled enough to skim lightly over the words, and match them to Batman’s pointed fury.

“Our patient is familiar with the threat. I could not recognize the insignia or acronym from his memories, but they had enough resources to keep him captive and alive—without food or water. Likely, for a lengthy amount of time.”

Bruce’s near-running stride slows to a stop. J’onn, ever-patient, floats to a standstill beside him.

“No food,” Bruce confirms, just to make sure he heard correctly.

J’onn nods.

“No water.”

“There was an alternative method used to keep him alive, although the details weren’t significant to him in his flashback. The method may have been possible due to his minor healing ability, or something unique to his species.”

No food, Bruce thinks. No water. Kept alive as a function. Worried that he’s meant to be used as a weapon, kept in isolation, afraid of what humans in uniform might require of him for help.

This isn’t just torture. It is, specifically targeting a half-human entity, entirely purposeful dehumanization.

Of a child.

Of a child.

Bruce inhales. Bruce exhales.

This is not something that will be solved short-term. He has to keep an eye on the long-term goals for this teen—safety, recovery, reassurance, and reintegration.

Doable. All he has to do is break larger goals down into reasonable steps.

“Update the pediatric psychiatrist that Dr. Martin referred him to on the details.” Bruce’s demand comes out as flat as it gets. It is hard, when he’s stressed, to make his words hit with any intonation. Everything he forces out is precise. To the point.

J’onn nods. “I will.”

“This is personal medical information, to be accessed only on a need to know basis.”  

J’onn floats slightly higher, something relaxed in his face. This is a significant gesture, meant to remind everyone involved that this is a child, not a resource, and not a mission to be solved. This is a patient. “Understood.”

“If you pass this on to Diana, do it in person. Minimizing documentation…” Bruce falters. There isn’t a strong, authoritarian way to phrase how he feels about being someone to store clinically cold information about a boy who had likely been imprisoned, if not actively experimented on, if not actively tortured. How he needed to minimize behaviors that would exactly model what was done to the boy by his captors.

A smile flickers over J’onn’s expression. It’s suitably fleeting, but it comes and it goes—and it’s extremely polite of him to emote so visibly for Bruce’s sake. He makes sure to project his appreciation as best he knows how—blindly, without a telepathic sense to know what J’onn will and will not see.

“Understood, Batman.”

Bruce grunts.

They split at the end of the hallway, each dedicated to their own tasks.

J’onn will inform the medical team of what triggers may affect their patient’s long-term recovery and the quality of their stay. He is a thorough and patient coworker, and Bruce is grateful to have him on his side.

Bruce, in the meantime, has a favor to ask of Alfred and Dick on their way back into Gotham; more importantly, this is a favor he has to ask of Alfred’s employment-provided Costco card.

*

There’s something new in Danny’s room.

He transfers himself into the wheelchair to look at it, scrambling down the bed the way the physical therapist taught him to—the new thing isn't at bed height, but it is pretty low, and it has a door that he could probably reach from seated height or standing.

The square thing’s door swings open.

Inside are…little water bottles. Canned juices. Those mushy fruit-filled bars, and something so obviously wrapped in a yellow Fig Einstein wrapper that even the gibberish non-English is super clear.

There’s a bunch of things. Just. So many; and all in a few different types, too. The whole thing is filled with so many choices.

…Huh.

There are disposable straws in the door. Danny has to borrow a nurse’s ID card to open the can tab in the end, and his unwrapping of a straw is more than a little shaky, but Danny takes his medication with a mango-pineapple juice blend instead of his usual cup of water, and he’s perfectly fine with that.

[unclewaynemunson]

CW for body issues and negative thoughts surrounding weight gaining

Cold autumn air has fallen over Hawkins for the first time in months. Steve reaches into the back of his closet to find his favorite sweater, the dark red one that his grandmother made him when he was in his junior year. The wool still feels just as soft in his hands as it was last year.

He pulls it over his head, welcoming the warmth it immediately gives off around him, but it feels tighter than he remembers it being. He pulls and adjusts the fabric, then gives himself a critical look in the mirror, and - fuck. It must've shrunk somehow. He messed up his favorite sweater.

But... The last time he wore it, on that one cold night at the end of April, it still fit him perfectly. He remembers that night clearly: they were all sitting around a campfire in the trailer park for Wayne's birthday, and Eddie had kept looking at him like that sweater was causing all kinds of unholy thoughts - partly the reason why it's Steve's favorite.

The sweater can't possibly have shrunk lying unused in the back of his closet for months. It didn't shrink; Steve has grown.

Suddenly, he looks at himself in the mirror and sees a whole other person. He zeroes in on all kinds of details he had never paid much attention to before, and he wonders how he could've ever missed what was happening to him: his expanding belly, the fat that has gathered around his hips, his stretched-out thighs... His upper legs are looking more chubby than muscled now that he stopped swimming regularly, and his sweater is tight around his upper arms and too narrow over his belly, the imprint of his belly button clearly visible in the stretched-out fabric.

He has no idea for how long he has been staring at himself when the bedroom door opens and Eddie comes in, still roughly brushing a towel over his wet hair. He's wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. Again, Steve wonders how he could ever have missed the way his body changed, especially next to Eddie: Eddie, who has always been lean, on the verge of being scrawny, his ribs almost visible underneath his tattooed skin and not a single curve in sight.

Eddie freezes in his tracks when he notices Steve, his eyes hovering over the red sweater. Steve feels caught, exposed under Eddie's gaze. He must be coming to the same conclusion that Steve had reached a minute before: that Steve's best days are behind him. That he's getting fat and that his body will only deteriorate further from now on. That he stopped taking good care of himself. That he's only going to get uglier with age.

'Sorry,' he's quick to say when Eddie won't stop staring. He turns his body away from Eddie's gaze, and starts rummaging around in his closet to find something with a looser fit. 'I didn't realize it wouldn't fit anymore, I'm gonna get changed right away. I suppose the red isn't really your color, but you can have it if you want to, I'm sure it'll fit you perfectly.'

He feels hands grabbing the underside of the sweater from behind.

'No.'

'What?'

He turns around, facing Eddie again, who now fists his hands into the sides of the fabric instead.

'Don't you dare take this off. Only one person is allowed to do that from now on, and that person is me.' There's a look in Eddie's eyes that Steve only recognizes from very different settings, like when he used to get home after a run all sweaty, or when one of them sinks to his knees in front of the other.

'What is happening?' he mumbles under his breath.

'You, in this tight sweater?' Eddie's voice is low and breathy. 'You are a fucking dream, Steve Harrington.'

Steve takes a step backwards, but Eddie's hands stay plastered right where they are.

'Are you making a fool of me?'

Eddie frowns and he finally lets his grip on Steve's sweater go.

'Why would you think that?'

Steve huffs, needlessly gestures to his own body. 'I look ridiculous!' he points out, unable to keep the frustration out of his voice. 'It doesn't fit anymore, I let myself get fat, I'm getting old and ugly, I–'

With one step, Eddie is right in front of Steve again, shutting him up by placing his index finger against Steve's lips.

'Not another word,' he says. 'I don't want to hear you talk like that about yourself ever again. You got it all wrong, you know. I mean, don't get me wrong, you were already hella sexy in your jock days, but your soft pillow belly is, like, the closest one can get to heaven here on earth.'

It should be too much, it should sound insincere because of how dramatic it is - but Steve is used to Eddie's dramatics and he can see that Eddie is being one hundred percent serious right now.

'You are the sexiest man I know, and every pound you've gained is a beautiful one. You are gorgeous, Steve – and you will keep being gorgeous and sexy in every shape you'll get.' His hands are roaming over Steve's sweater again, comforting and hungry at the same time. 'I do have to ask you not to wear this sweater outside of our house, though. It'll cause riots. People might die because of it.'

He looks dead serious saying it, and Steve can't help but laugh before he tugs Eddie closer and presses their lips together.

[poisonousquinzel]

Injustice: Year Zero #8

"You will wake up tomorrow because I allowed it. And because she'd never forgive me if you didn't.

But you're not powerful.

You're a fucking joke."

[someobscurereference]

The moment the door to Laslow’s room slammed shut, Selena whirled on them. “Alright! The first meeting of the What The Hell Is Happening To My Face club has begun!” Or: After the end of the war, the magical disguise Anankos gifted them starts to fade. Other people take notice. So do Selena, Odin, and Laslow, but they're mostly focused on the wrong things.

Happy Holidays all! This is my holiday gift fic for @kimium for the prompt "Trio start losing their disguises but only care about their looks and not explaining themselves to others." I hope you all enjoy! Hope you're having an easy holiday season as well!

[themyscirah]

Could theoretically make a Vanessa wall in my dorm next year.....

[thenopequeen]

I actually got up and ate something because my hands were shaking, even though it is one am and the specter of my mother's disapproval of eating at the WRONG TIME followed me all the way to the fridge. Are you proud of me?

[zestialmorde]

Mod is taking another small break that may or may not be noticed (Idk if the queue will clear before I’m back) I am an ancient old man in the body of a 22 year old and am having heart issues

[eztli-void]

Some of you marvel supremacist hoes are missing out on the best super villain of all time.

Yeah, sure, nothing wrong with… im bad at names and deadass can only name Thanos, but BEAR WITH ME

Some of you fuckers dont know of the sheer power that is

Snowflame, the cocaine powered super villain

I love him so much. He would sell my internal organs to buy drugs but i can work with that <3

Some notable things about Snowflame:

Has had sex before

So goddamn high that he can literally light himself on fire

Has “cocaine” listed as a religion on his wiki page

Is in the opening paragraph to his origin comic series

This man was from the 80s, you could say any shit in comics

Faked his death via explosion

Snorts cocaine and then punches a bitch like the absolute girlboss he is

Is sexy in one single panel of a catwoman comic

Just… just look him up for me, please, yall are missing out

[doodlingwren]

Hiatus

I am going on hiatus for a bit more. I really really hoped the stuff that have been going on lately were already "sorted out" but, uhm... they aren't. I need to take a bit more time offline once again, and try to work things out.

Thank you for your patience ❤

Wren

[10000-paper-nohara-rins]

When Kaguya first wakes up, all the world bends to her will for one, glorious moment. The stars stand breathless, and humanity's collective breath hitches, and the waters of the planet curl towards her. For a fraction of a second, everything is as it should be.

It all falls apart rather quickly, of course. Humans are exactly as she remembers them- stubborn, haughty creatures. There are five of them still awake when Kaguya arrives. They fight and they fight and they fight, and it is pointless, of course, but it is still... irritating.

Well. Four of them fight. As Kaguya deflects a punch from a pink one and dodges a bolt of lighting from an Uchiha, the fifth human stands back, still enraptured by Kaguya.

Her face hangs- not slack, not unwilling- it is no forceful awe that overtakes the human. She gazes at Kaguya with adoration on purpose- she takes a slow step in the direction of the fight, eyes fixed on Kaguya, and-

She can use this.

"If you wish to join me," Kaguya says, her voice echoing over packed dirt and scorched sky. "You must be willing to fight my battles."

A small smirk graces the corner of the human's lips. "As you wish."

"What?" the other Uchiha says, whipping his head around to stare at the fifth human in disbelief. "Rin, no, she's trying to take over the world- she's going to kill everyone Rin, you won't achieve your dream like this!"

"Didn't you ever stop to wonder for one moment what my dream was?" Rin snarls, her red eye spinning into its Mangekyō form. "Obito, I may as well be in the genjutsu with everyone else right now. This is what I've always wanted."

Obito's singular sharingan narrows in either grief or anger- Kaguya doesn't have the chance to discern which it is before Rin leaps at him, water dancing at her fingertips. It aids her movements, flows with her hits, and as she dances in and out of reality she pulls the water within Obito's veins. He chokes, over and over and over, trying to fight two enemies at once, neither tangible, and Rin finishes the fight.

Kaguya kills two of the human children- the yellow one makes his escape before she can catch him.

"He'll be heading to Konoha," Rin tells her, stepping away from Obito's body. "If he can wake up the people there... it'd be annoying for you."

"Noted," Kaguya says. "We will peruse him immediately."

Rin looks up at her like she's the sun and the stars and the rest of the sky all wrapped up together. She looks at Kaguya like she's more than just an invader from the moon. She does not respect Kaguya because she fears her. She loves Kaguya because, for some ineffable reason, she chooses to.

Kaguya will use that.

-

Rin looks beautiful when her hands are stained in blood.

The thought surprises Kaguya, for a split second, but she pushes the feeling down, because of course it is beautiful. The blood represents another step taken towards her goals. When she sees the glistening red coat Rin's fists, highlighting every vein and scar, her heart beats faster. Rin turns to Kaguya, thick muscle evident in the motion, and meets her eyes. The mismatched scarlet and brown-

Kaguya turns away, and to her horror, feels a slight blush creeping across her face. The blood is beautiful, and her conquest is beautiful, but... From the corner of her eye, she sees Rin's face crinkle happily, and she has a sudden urge to grab it.

"Are you done?" Kaguya says, doing her best to swallow the... sudden realizations she has made.

"He doesn't have any blood left to bleed," Rin says, grinning like a shark.

"Good," Kaguya says. "Good."

Rin rolls her shoulders, and then lets her sharingan fade back to its base state. Kaguya cannot help but record every detail of the half-shrug to her perfect memory. All of a sudden, she is as enraptured with Rin as Rin is with her. Well- not suddenly. The more Kaguya reflects over the past weeks she has spent with her, the more she realizes that this affection has been building for a very, very long time.

"...you love me," Kaguya says, just as Rin is turning to leave, to hunt down the next of the scant individuals who managed to escape the infinite tsukuyomi. Her voice does not echo over the land like it usually does. She cannot bare to let it. The moment is too intimate to be used for intimidation.

"I do," Rin says. Her eyes search Kaguya's face.

"And I believe that I have come to love you," Kaguya whispers.

"Well, of course," Rin says, like she knew this would happen from the very moment she laid eyes on Kaguya. "I am the moth to your moon."

"My moth..." Kaguya says.

Rin tenderly moves to her, embraces her, and their lips meet, and-

-

Kaguya glances at her moth. Rin is holding her head high, eyes alight with the reflection of distant fire.

Rin stares and stares and stares, her eyes empty behind the carnage. Sometimes, Kaguya wonders if there is anything behind Rin's easy air of romance and violence.

All they have left is quiet moments together. The world has burned and bled, and she and her moth sit atop the ashes of it all, together.

In these quiet moments, Kaguya has come to appreciate how empty Rin is. She wears a mask of a moth, and Kaguya doesn't think she even knows who she is underneath the mask.

Oddly, Kaguya finds herself drawn to the Rin she has not seen. She wants to gently peel the masks off until she finds the wraith of Rin who doesn't pretend to be anyone. It's an odd feeling, but not more unfamiliar than any of the attraction Kaguya has been experiencing lately.

Rin turns to Kaguya, and something slides over her eyes, and her face sharpens into something hard and beautiful- like carved, painted wood, she smiles. That's beautiful, too, but there's something intrinsically wrong with it. Kaguya almost likes the blank stares better.

"Does something trouble you, my moon?" Rin asks softly.

The pet name sends shivers up Kaguya's spine. "...nothing that needs to be addressed now."

Rin raises an eyebrow, but Kaguya shakes her head gently. "We have all the time in the world, now. Let's just watch the fields burn, for now."

Rin relaxes, and the mask comes off, and Kaguya stares at every curve of her impassive face, her hooded eyes, and slightly parted lips, and burns it into her perfect memory.

[whippedcloudsofcream]

[poisonousquinzel]

this man is such an insecure little loser like ?? stand up!

time and time again he gets jealous over something She's achieved and hurts her for it. Harley Quinn could bring Gotham to its knees if she really, Really wanted to, he knows that. maybe not at first but I think that's why his degrading comments and such get so fucking vile by the time they're officially over.

She doesn't want to destroy Gotham she just wants to be happy with him but he wants to make it so she genuinely believes she couldn't achieve a fraction of that destruction. that she's nothing without him. that she's not capable of anything aside from being his. being whatever it is he wants or needs and that's it.

He hates the idea of her getting credit for ploys he wants the glory from. he doesn't like seeing her come up with something he wishes he'd thought of first.

I think that's why he also very quickly made sure there was a message for Harley in her cell at the end of Mad Love. She'd proved she could best Batman and he doesn't know what path she'll be taking upon release. sure there's a chance she'd just leave and be rehabilitated, but there's also a chance she stays. She stays and she steals his final grandiose action by killing Batman.

She almost did it and there's a possiblity she'll do it again. He doesn't want that.

[brooklynislandgirl]

Oversharing- Why We Can’t Have Nice Thinks- Rabbit/Christmas Edition.

So last Saturday, Rabbit has a tooth ache. He blows through half my bottle of Tylenol but when I say “Dentist...?” He refuses me. Says he’s fine. All week, it’s soft foods and lots of pain meds, up-to and including my very last hoarded single Oxycodone, which did nothing for him. All week I keep asking to make him an appointment, he refuses. Yesterday:  Me: How ya doin’ babe...oh Jesus. Rabbit: Well, doesn’t hurt any more.  Me: Looks like you’re smuggling a golf ball in your jaw, but okay. This morning:  Rabbit: Can you call in to work today, gonna need a ride to the dentist, I feel woozy. Stoat: Yeah, sure. Let me get my phone. Me, stumbling out of bed at oh-my-god-its-barely-six-am: Hmm? What? Rabbit: Gonna need you to call the dentist. Rabbit: ~face now looks like he’s got a softball lodged in his teeth~ Moral of the story: Always listen to your wife, and let her make you an appointment before you have to scramble to find an emergency walk-in appointment. Moral of the story II: Listen to your instincts and not your grumpy macho spouse.

[chained-to-the-mirror]

Body image/appearance struggles under the cut. You have been warned.

It’s been that kind of week… maybe it’s PMS, I don’t know, but I have felt really fat and also really ugly, and tired too. February really is hateful! 

Last night I had a nightmare. In the dream, I was inpatient again… Not for ED reasons, more like my later inpatient stays were. General anxiety and stuff. Anyway, there was a nurse that I actually remember from the first hospital I was in. She had signed me up to see a makeup artist, without my knowledge. It should be noted that I have never worn (or indeed wanted to wear) makeup. One reason is that I’m lazy - and that’s a big reason - but I also don’t want to end up in a situation where I can’t go anywhere without makeup. And that would definitely happen, because makeup could only improve my looks, and once I saw my face with makeup I would never want to see it without. Does this make sense?

I’m rambling. The point is, she had signed me up for this, and I DID NOT WANT TO GO. It was clear that she was trying to frame it as a nice thing she was doing for me, but I knew that it was because she thought I looked messy and tired and ugly without makeup. It was part of my treatment.

Well, I had no choice but to go. And I had an actual panic attack in the makeup chair before she even had the chance to touch my face. That panic attack woke me up, and for the longest time I stayed awake… Because I was now thinking, ”Maybe everyone secretly thinks I should wear makeup so I wouldn’t look so messy and tired and ugly?” And I couldn’t let that thought go. I was imagining everyone being kind to me and all the while they would be thinking ”if only she would do something to that face at least!”

It’s not a nice thing to think about, alone in the middle of the night. Especially now as I have been really struggling with how I look. I have always thought I am ugly, not just because of the weight… but for a long time that feeling was sort of passive, just there in the background but not causing a crisis. But now, with the weight issues, it has come back to the front a bit.

I thought a bit more about why I’m having these weight thoughts a lot lately. I think it’s because my body size is changing, and that nearly always used to signal an ED flaring up. I have only lost weight the healthy way once before, in my teens (I was under adult supervision so it must have been healthy). I don’t know how this works. I mean obviously I know in theory, but I don’t know how to deal with these feelings. 

This is why I haven’t tried to lose weight in about a decade… I was afraid of what that would trigger. I’m not really limiting my eating now, but the thoughts are similar to what they were in the past. I feel like I’m also snacking more because I feel out of balance. Maybe I’m trying to self sabotage, I don’t know. But I’m not giving in… I’ve had a couple good food days now, after one or two disastrous ones. I’m holding onto those good days. Also, I think it might be smart to focus on drinking water for now. I have a goal of 2 liters per day, and for a few days now I’ve been able to stick to it. I’m really bad about forgetting to drink, so this is an achievement.

I hope I feel better once this stupid February is over. I always struggle in February.

Tagging with the ED tags even though this isn’t strictly about that. Stay safe friends ❤️

[omgkalyppso]