#It felt damn good

[inkskinned]

you're in the habit of denying yourself things.

if someone asked you directly, you would say that you love a little treat. you like iced coffee and getting the cookie. you drink juice out of a fancy cup sometimes, and often do use your candles until they gutter out helplessly.

but you hesitate about buying the 20 dollar hand mixer because, like. you could just use your arms. you weren't raised rich. you don't get to just spend the 20 dollars (remember when that could cover lunch?), at least - you don't spend that without agonizing over it first, trying to figure out the cost-benefits like you are defending yourself in front of a jury. yes, this rice cooker could seriously help you. but you do know how to make stovetop rice and it really isn't that hard. how many pies or brownies would you actually make, in order to make that hand mixer worthwhile?

what's wild is that if the money was for a friend, it would already be spent. you'd fork over 40 without blinking an eye, just to make them happy. the difference is that it's for you, so you need to justify it.

and it sneaks in. you ration yourself without meaning to - you don't finish the pint of ice cream, even though you want to. the next time you go to the store, you say ah, i really shouldn't, and then you walk away. you save little bits of your precious things - just in case. sometimes you even go so far as putting that one thing in your shopping cart. and then just leaving it there, because maybe-one-day, but not right now, there's other stuff going on.

you do self-care, of course. but you don't do it more than like, 3 days in a row. after that it just feels a little bit over-the-edge. like. you can't live in decadence, the economy is so bad right now, kid.

so you don't buy the rice cooker. you can-and-will spend the time over the stove. you can withstand the little sorrows. denial and discipline are practically synonyms. and you're not spoiled.

it's just - it's not always a rice cooker. sometimes it is a person or a job or a hug. sometimes it is asking for help. sometimes it is the summer and your college degree. sometimes it is looking down at scabbed knees and feeling a strange kind of falling, like you can't even recognize the girl you used to be. sometimes it is your handprint looking unsteady.

sometimes it is tuesday, and you didn't get fired, and you want to celebrate. but what is it you like, even? you search around your little heart and come up empty. you're so used to denying that all your desires draw a blank.

oh fuck. see, this is the perfect opportunity. if you had a mixer, you'd make a cake.

[fake-diary]

Day 422

Today sure has been a single day, in a long, long line of days that I have lived through, where everything moves, thinks, and acts, without any interference from a higher power that may or may not exist, though I am inclined to believe that it does not, but there is no problem in believing in something, or someone, when there is no possible evidence for them existing.

I’m not good at what I do, and that’s okay. Never will I need to do the best I can do. I just have to do.

- Johnny Dalton, 22/10/22

[gunstellations]

In the world I love

_

In a different world

[godforbidfate]

[jadedgenasi]

The more I think about Carla the worse it all feels. RTD did a Racism For Idiots episode and that's cool, but did anyone look over the optics of not only Ruby calling her bio mom her "real" mom in front of Carla, but sitting next to her instead of between her two moms (as in, near Carla)? How many people looked at the part where Carla without Ruby states that she only keeps kids for the money and went "hmm yeah that seems fine," like. I've watched enough British TV to know there's a huge fucking blind spot with them as a whole re racism, especially with regard to black people, but what the fuck. It tastes nasty. And it could have been solved so, so easily by acknowledging - reinforcing - that Carla is Ruby's mother. A large portion of the time we got with Carla wasn't even real, and those times were super shitty.

[jasperyourmutt]

“Just a bit more, pup,” he exhaled, pressing deeper into my hole. His knot was nearly half way in, and he was taking his sweet time opening me up. He had one hand on my ass cheek, watching his work, the other pulling my leash taut. I laid out in front of him on my stomach, my head and neck slightly pulled back from the collar. I whined, wiggling my butt a bit to try and push him deeper.

“Patience, mutt- “ He scolded before yanking the leash lightly. I grumbled, keeping my backside still this time.

He had been going slow the entire night, to tease and frustrate me, while he enjoyed himself. I couldn’t put up a fight, his orders willed it so. He methodically lulled me into my puppy brained state, first cradling my face and looking me in my eyes, calling me a good boy, rubbing my poor cock through my pants. How could I have kept it together? I knew my place, properly beneath him, like I was now. I could barely respond with words, mostly just whines and desperate barks.

“So tight, pretty boy, ahhh.. There you go,” He groaned as he drove in deeper, the widest part of the knot now pushed in.

“Hhru.. hruff,” I could hear the noise escape my mouth, but my mind swirled from the sensation of his cock deep in me. It wasnt long til he easily entered the rest of his cock into me, my hole closing over the other side of the knot. His hand loosened on my leash and he gripped my hips, a low growl emanating from him. My mouth opened and my tongue fell out as I panted.

“F-Fuck.. what a good dog,” he mumbled as he began to rut into me, slow at first. The composure he had until that point began to slip. His hips bucked into my ass, the knot preventing him from fully pulling out. Our sweaty skin smacked together, the wetness from my leaking cunt getting onto our thighs.

He pulled a bit harder out to reveal part of his knot before pushing it back in. I moaned, and he did it again, and again. His knot popped in and out of me, and it was all I could do to bite onto the blanket I had underneath me. I felt my legs shaking from the pleasure, my mind swimming, unable to focus on anything else. His nails dug into the soft skin on my hips, and he began to lean more forward, over me, as his knot now easing in and out of me.

His speed picked up, and he began to pant and bark as well. I loved when he lost himself in me, letting the dog in him take over when the time was right. I felt his teeth dig into my shoulder as he fucked me deeply, now fully pulling his whole cock out, and then deeply back into me. My face burned hot and red. I couldn’t form words, the animalistic noises from the both of us confirmed where we both were at.

“Fuck.. fuck, I’m going to breed you,” He managed to make out from biting down on my shoulder. I barely heard his words through the waves of pleasure. He pulled out his cock from my ass and easily lined it up with my neglected cunt- desperate to be filled. There was no hesitation as he pushed in, my excessive wetness made it entirely too easy. His tip hit my cervix and I yelped softly, but he disregarded it. He fucked me like a jack rabbit, or a rabid dog, like he were to die if he had to stop. His hands held my waist in place, holding me as if I were just a fleshlight to be used.

“Ah- ah- ah- ah-” I yipped in time with his repeated thrusts. My head spun, and I quickly felt myself approaching orgasm. I knew this would make him happy, but yet not mean much for him otherwise- he would keep going until he was fully satisfied.

[ruelpsen]

The sounds that resulted from me getting the most stuffed I've ever been. Eating an entire pizza is something I've done so many times before with no issue, but throwing a liter and a half of bubbly orange soda on top of that had me maxed out! Enjoy my belches, moans, and other sounds of pleasure and pain all thanks to one terrifically stuffed gut.

Comms are open and tips are always appreciated!

[c6jpg]

Hunters fight not for fame, but to aid the people whenever they are summoned.

[crimeronan]

okay so. monkey man was really good. if anyone wants to see dev patel with his giant sad wet eyes lead a small army of trans women hijra in a quest to murder the Shit out of a bunch of cops and fascist politicians...... YOU ARE IN SO MUCH LUCK.....

eta making this unrebloggable bc i've learned that hijra is a better term than trans women & would prefer the og doesn't circulate without this correction! everyone see this movie.

[tgmrooster]

[enden-k]

and im crying

[ceabu]

Isn't This Nice?

[waitineedaname]

wei wuxian is one of those characters where I do believe he's at his core a good person with good intentions, but I absolutely would not trust him with my wallet

[halemerry]

I just. What do you think was going through his mind when his car exploded into pieces in front of him and the piece that landed next to him was a hand crank? Like the world was ending around him, he'd just gone through the rollercoaster of losing and then finding his angel again, and from the burning bones of the Bentley fate offers him an echo of the same object he'd once been given divinely. What did it feel like to reach for a souvenir and find that object given to him in this new context? What did it feel like to use that again in this moment of once again offering the fate of humanity up to the choice of one it's own? To be able to hold this thing, born again from a human made object, and say this time I am going to use it to give them the opportunity to choose their own fate?

[petite-phthora]

This yours?

[DP x DC fic]

[Love at first... murder? - part 12]

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Part 1

Ao3

---

Somewhere else, in a seemingly abandoned building on the outskirts of the city, a figure shrouded in darkness and wearing a dark cloak plots.

In front of them is a whiteboard. It’s covered in pictures, sticky notes, and illegible texts. Some of the notes thrown about that are legible are ‘fight…’, ‘draw blood.’, and ‘DEATH!!!’.

There’s a crude stick figure drawn in the corner of the board, it’s impaled. Other small doodles can also be found all around the board.

Most of the information and pictures are connected by red strings, like you see in movies.

In the middle is a picture of 2 people sitting on a motorcycle, the arms of the person sitting in the back are around the waist of the person sitting in the front. The picture has some arrows pointing towards it and the people in the picture are very obviously circled.

Though the face of the person driving the motorcycle is obscured by their helmet, the other person seems to be heavily blushing and grinning broadly.

“Yes… yes! That’s it! I know what to do…” They seem to be speaking to themselves.

Quickly, the person scribbles down a barely legible ‘sacrifice!!‘.

They start cackling.

“Mwuahaha!”

It’s an evil laugh they’ve been working on for quite a while now, and they’re pretty proud of it.

However, the effect is slightly ruined when a fly enters their mouth, cutting off their cackling with choking as they gasp for air, grasping at their throat.

A few good thumps against their chest, with some coughing out their lungs, helps them dislodge the fly from their throat and they spit it out on the ground. They take a few deep breaths before straightening up again.

“Curse you” the person exclaims, angrily waving their fist at the fly as it flies away.

---

Bruce’s face gives off nothing as he stares at the streets down below. He’s dressed as Batman, crouched at the edge of a building with Damian by his side as Robin. Spoiler, Black Bat, Nightwing, and Red Robin are further back on the rooftop.

They watch in silence as another group of the Joker’s goons passes by. They’ve been all over the city, wandering around, not doing anything obviously illegal.

They don’t stay in one place and they don’t seem to have much of a purpose. No attacks… No stealing… No smuggling or transport of goods… No, instead they’re inspecting every single inch of the city.

They don’t seem to have any weapons on them. All they’re carrying on them are some flashlights. While most don’t give anything away with their body language or expressions, some seem to give off a bit of anxious energy.

Spoiler claimed she even saw some of them climb down into the sewers earlier and then climbing out again sometime later somewhere else, but this time ‘dejected and stinky’.

One thing seems clear to the Bats.

They’re searching for something… or someone.

“This basically confirms that not even the Joker’s henchmen know where he is. He’s missing.”

“I’m not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing”

“Good… thing?”

“It’s… something. That’s for sure.”

“We don’t know if he’s really missing. For all we know it could be a trap. What if the Joker is hiding, pretending to be missing to have us bring our guard down? Besides, how could he be missing? He’s the Joker. No one’s just gonna kidnap him”

“For all we know he could be lying dead in a ditch somewhere”

“I highly doubt that”

“Everyone, focus” Bruce speaks up, having them draw their attention to him.

“It’s unclear whether the Joker is simply hiding away or missing. Instead of focusing on the why, we need to focus on the where. Missing or not, we need to find him and get him back to Arkham. Oracle, have you managed to find out anything from the footage yet?”

“Nope, still nothing. All the files from the moment he enters Crime Alley are wiped and any attempt at recovering them only brings back corrupted files.”

 “We need Red Hood. Where is he?” Bruce asks.

“He still has his phone on silent and he has removed the trackers and cams. We haven’t placed any new ones on him yet”

“Let’s visit him on his turf then. And keep an eye out for anything suspicious in the meantime. Oracle, try recovering the missing files. If that doesn’t work, go back to the breakout footage. Perhaps he left some kind of clues about his plans or whereabouts behind there.” Bruce states.

“Roger that.”

---

Red Hood has his arms by his sides as he gazes down upon the street below from the rooftop of a random apartment building in Crime Alley.

He’s lucky to have avoided the Bats so far. But he doubts his luck will last for long.

Red Hood stiffens as he suddenly feels something clamp down on his arm. As a reflex, his other hand has already drawn his gun.

He slowly raises the arm he felt something clamp down on and looks at it, only to make eye contact with a girl with black hair and blue eyes who has sunk her teeth into his arm and is now hanging off of it.

The teeth are sharp, as the girl seems to have some small fangs. They’ve gone through his jacket and sunken into his skin.

It doesn’t really hurt all that badly though, probably hasn’t even drawn much blood, and that’s one of the only reasons Jason hasn’t flung the kid off of him yet. Another reason is the fact that it’s a kid.

They both stare at each other for several seconds.

As Jason takes her appearance in, he notices that she seems rather familiar. In fact, she looks like a more feminine version of Danny, or if Danny had a twin.

The person hanging off of his arm looks younger than Danny though, probably a teenager around 13 or 14, if he had to make a guess.

Slowly, he puts his gun away and takes out his phone with his other hand, watching the random girl’s eyes follow his movements. He raises it level with her face and snaps a picture, quickly sending it to Danny and ignoring the girl’s curious gaze while she’s still hanging onto his arm by her fucking teeth.

---

Meanwhile, Danny checks his phone to see Red Hood sent him a message. He opens it and is greeted by a picture of Ellie in human form biting down on Red Hood’s arm with the caption ‘this yours???’

---

Taglist:

@i-always-say-yea   @uraniumwizard    @why-must-i-be-like-this   @griffinthing

[dylanconrique]

tim "i'm not trying to be romantic" → gets his girlfriend a 1st place trophy before she even takes the detectives exam because he believes in her so much, and then writing in a little '7' next to it after she notified him that she didn't do as well as she had hoped SEEMS PRETTY FUCKING ROMANTIC TO ME.