#i'm not touching you touch YOURSELF

[binch-i-might-be]

saw a random tiktok and now my question is: will people actually comfort someone when they're crying? I never really considered this but thinking about it no one has ever comforted me. like will a random person just do that......

[achelata]

just thinking about bucky mourning gale while sitting on his seat

[canisalbus]

I really appriciate how often Machete is depicted struggling and feeling like a burden, while still being loved and supported by Vasco. It gives the top tier angst of "i'm not good enough, I'm not worth it" but you frame it in such a way where it's clear that's just how he *feels* and is not how things really are, but also it's so nice to see someone who struggles quite often in a loving and unique relationship that suits them. The narrative of not being able to love or be loved unless you're consistently healthy is really tiring lol.

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[satyricplotter]

(suggestive, slightly explicit content at the end)

Even though you’ve been expecting the visit for most of the night, the Red Hood knocking at your balcony door at 1 in the morning still catches you off guard. You scramble off the couch in a sleepy daze, book falling off your lap and cracking open on the floor. For one long second, the only thing you can think of is that whoever your last assignment was has managed to find you, that you’ve finally been too sloppy and left a trail with which to track you.

That’s your first thought. Your second thought is, of course, Barbara. But before you can reach your phone to shoot your boss a SOS, or, at the very least, an alert, a second rasp at the window panes freezes you on the spot.

“Will you open the damn door?” Red Hood’s unmistakably robotic voice grits out. “It’s raining cats and dogs out here.”

You trip in your rush to open the doors, limbs loose and clumsy with relief. Hood shoulders past you with a grunt, fingers prodding at the back of his head to get at the latch of his helmet. He takes it off in a smooth motion, his hot breath forming a white cloud against the cold air of your running AC. You lock the balcony back up after him as he goes around your apartment, setting his helmet on your dinner table and shrugging out of his jacket. He means to stay apparently. You could’ve lent him an umbrella if he wanted to go back out there. Probably would’ve been best.

See, you don’t like the Red Hood much.

He invites himself over to your kitchen, opening cabinets here and there until he chances upon the dinnerware and pulls out a glass. The Gotham public infrastructure is in such state you have never once attempted to drink out of the tap, but you don’t stop him when he does. It is, technically, allowed. And he had the pitcher full of filtered water right under his nose, so. You wait impatiently as he downs two whole glasses of tap water and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand (there is a perfectly usable kitchen towel draped over the oven handle).

He glances over, notices you staring. The corner of his lips quirks up. “How obedient,” he mocks. He pats at his sides, pulls a folded envelope from somewhere in his body (the Bats have endless pockets, you’ve come to learn) and tosses it on the table. “There’s your file. You better be fucking thankful. Traipsed through half the city in this shit storm just to get you these.”

“Thank you, Red Hood,” you say politely, picking up the rumpled envelope and eagerly flipping through the files. “Much appreciated.”

Red Hood rolls his eyes at you, eternally put off by your insistence on following the proper channels of conduct. “Whatever. You got anything to eat?”

“Help yourself,” you tell him.

You walk back to the couch with the file in hand and leave him to make himself whatever he will, already too distracted by the information within to care that you’re gonna have to make a second grocery run when he’s done with your fridge. Red Hood rummages through your cabinets, pulling out far more stuff than he should for a midnight snack. At one point, he asks if you’ve had dinner, and you respond him with an absentminded (and truthful) negative. The files he’s brought are the latest Robin’s swiped from the team’s ongoing investigation on a dicey arms exchange deal that may or may not involve three out of four of Gotham’s biggest conglomerates (sans, of course, Wayne Enterprises). It’s your job to process the info—a task too menial and too tedious for Oracle and Red Robin, respectively, to handle. Besides, Tim’s far more useful on the ground.

It must be about twenty minutes of you pouring over the pages scattered over your coffee table when the man speaks up again. “Dinner’s ready,” he says.

You look up to see him setting two plates of steaming stir fry on the table. He’s taken off his gloves, his utility belt, the domino mask and rolled up his sleeves—the whole nine yards. Only missing the apron. The food looks lovely, but of course it does. Cooking is listed as a specialty in Red Hood’s file, right along with marksmanship and hostile takeovers.

Your lips quirk up at the unexpected kindness, but you shake your head. “None for me, thanks.”

“I said,” Red Hood says, placing his gun on the table menacingly. “Dinner’s ready. Come eat.”

Well. So much for kindness. You’re about as dumb as Red Hood’s subtle, which is to say only at your benefit and very much at will, so you only sigh and push the papers aside. He watches you rise and sit, and pick up the fork, before he does the same. You eat in silence.

After a few bites, you stop being disgruntled at his coercion and grateful that he’s got something other than a protein bar in you because you were, in fact, quite hungry. That’s not something you can say—or at least not in any way which he would accept, so you just shut up and eat your meal happily. That seems to be enough for him, as he watches you finish the whole plate with a satisfied expression.

“Good?” He asks.

“Yeah, actually,” you beam.

Even when he stands and brings the dishes over to the sink to wash, you are reluctant to leave your spot at the table. You watch him rinse and sponge the plates and pan, the knife and spoon and cutting board, and your afternoon tea mug. He washes his hands thoroughly and rinses his mouth with the dubious tap water again. A thorough, judicious man. He’s played remarkably nice this evening. You wonder if Oracle’s been pulling his ear to leave you alone.

When he finishes, he walks slowly the remainder of the narrow hallway of your kitchen back to the dinner table and leans against the threshold. The long line of his body catches you off guard, always so unexpectedly graceful despite his musculature, his brutality. You hold his gaze serenely, trying not to cave under his scrutiny.

This is why you don’t like the Red Hood. Every time he looks at you, he sees you wholly. As you are. Not, crucially, as you want. It has been this way since the first time he laid eyes on you—a single glance and he had taken the measure of you. No further explanation, no time to make amends. And what’s worse: he expects you to be honest. He expects you to say what he can read in your face. He doesn’t let it go when you deflect, when you coat your truths in niceties. He wants it raw and open.

You can’t play dumb with Jason Todd.

He breaks the silence first. “Were you expecting Grayson this evening?”

The non-sequitur catches you so off guard you break eye contact accidentally. What’s Nightwing got to do with anything?

“No?” You say, evidently baffled. “Nightwing’s been off-world all week. Why would he be coming around?”

He cocks his head to the side, sucks in the bit of flesh below his lower lip. "So you knew it was me who'd be coming around?"

"Obviously?" What is he going on about? He clearly doesn't believe you, either. It's childish when you stomp your foot and whine, but he always brings out the worst in you. "I'm serious, Hood. I've been waiting for you all evening. Just you."

Jason pushes off the wall and approaches, staring you down with slightly raised eyebrows. “Then, if you knew Dick wasn't coming with, what are you looking so fuckable for?”

Despite how much it bruises your pride, you cannot help but sputter. The staring is one thing, the passing brushes are another—even the stupid pulling at your pigtails like you’re both in kindergarten is… permissible. But this? Coming at you so straightforwardly when all you know how to do is circumvent and hide? Desperately, you respond to the one thing in that sentence you can make sense of: the accusation.

“I don’t like Nightwing,” you whine. Jason fixes you with a look of dry incredulity. You huff. How you despise him. He can’t even let you lie. “And I don’t dress for him either.”

“Hm.” He reaches over to pull at the neckline of your admittedly skimpy top, his knuckle brushing against your chest. “Sure.”

You bat his hand away, and stand up, but that leaves you much closer to him than you expected. Or wanted. “This is not fuckable,” you grit out. “This is… pajamas.”

Jason cranes his neck to take a close look at you, every bit as assessing as the first one had been. One of his large hands comes to play with the hem of your shorts, pushes it up just a smidge, and the pads of his fingers are rough and calloused against your outer thigh. Your eyelids flutter, and he has the nerve to smile.

“That’s a blatant lie, you know,” he says, dipping his head low so the words brush against your lips. “Try a little, huh?”

“This seems like a you problem, my guy,” you snap, so close you might as well be speaking into his mouth. You need to get away. You don’t.

Jason’s smug when you gasp after his hands close around your ass and bring you forward, flush against his body. The hardness in his pants trapped between you, a pressing weight just below where it should be. Should be? What are you—but Jason adjusts before you can scold yourself, lining up your crotch with his and grinding. It feels bigger this way, which is insane because it's already pretty fucking huge, and a hot flash of desire runs through you lightning-quick and just as obliterating. You slump against him, head on his shoulder.

“That’s my problem,” he murmurs against your ear. His thumbs press just under your asscheeks, playful. “You gon’ do anything about it?”

[starry-bi-sky]

realizing i have. a lot of untapped trauma potential for clone^2 danny because i just Fully Processed Four Months Late the fact that his parents were capturing and torturing ghosts in the basement before he became Phantom. and the fact that he was on house rest for 2 weeks. during that time period. and he wasn't really leaving the house. he could hear their screaming through the floorboards

*points at clone danny* i can give you suuuuuuch a bad time babe ahaha. i've got two untouched years before you meet damian what fucks you up before then

[t-dick-sapphic]

For 🌾 --but anyone's invited to listen and imagine sucking me off and then getting sucked off in turn - the more the merrier ;) Read the time stamps below to know what to expect!

But 🌾, know I absolutely was imagining you, my perfect little slut, while recording this while super high. (btw the audio is not great the first few minutes but it gets better)

Also, while listening through my audio to make the time stamps below, I got really turned on and stroked my cock the whole time 😳 Autoandrophilia is real. Anyway, i'm off to go lay in bed and listen again while imagining you listening so i can finally cum 🤭

0: I kind of ramble while i touch myself in bed after having jerked off in the shower (and again standing on the bath rug lmao), talking about how i never masturbated in the shower until after my tdick grew enough to peek out from under my hood. spraying the shower head up onto it feels so fucking good now, fuck, the idea of you holding the shower head and controlling how much water hits my cock gets me so turned on

2:48 I start imagining you're touching me, stroking my tdick and fingering me exactly how i like

4:30 You kneel in front of me and start sucking my cock, following my instructions to slip your tongue from the head of my cock down to my hole while you keep fingering me so deep

6: I pull your hair so you mouth is pressed balls deep around my cock until I cum in your mouth, twice, while you lick every last drop of cum

7:35 Now it's your turn for me to suck you off 😇 I tell you i'm going to make you cum in my mouth and that you're going to love it, my perfect slut

9:20 I promise i'll make you cum soon-- you have till the last 20 seconds of the audio to cum if you want to imagine cumming into my mouth while i continue to suck and lick every last drop from the head of your cock 😘

[crybabydaydream]

really bugging me how all this conversation and discourse about polyamoury is cropping up and I'm not seeing anyone use the word

amatonormitivity

If you don't know this word you should learn it, its a really relevant concept to this conversation

[hellolulu]

Damian, still fresh to the family, but actually starting to warm up to the idea of them actually being his family, looks up online 'how to be a good little brother.'

He finds all sorts of things like, "using cuteness to get what you want from your elder siblings" (lame, no way that works) "fake extra tears when they punch you so your parents buy you icecream and whatever else you want" (why on EARTH would he want anyone think he could be so weak?) etc, but he also sees stuff about Pranks, sibling fights (in the sense of "you know they're real siblings because they'll throw hands one minute, then 5 minutes later be laughing watching tv together like nothing happened"), and concepts like Sibling Code (like, absolute secrecy between siblings toward their parents, threatening potential heartbreakers, etc).

Cue him pulling pranks, like leaving lego everywhere and waiting for his shoeless family to step on them, hiding things that the others need (like, right now), sneaking things into the batcave that shouldn't be in the batcave, throwing himself at his siblings to brawl without any reason and then promptly stopping also with no reason (and wondering why they won't spend time with him to bond afterward), planning out how to threaten a literal magic space princess (Kori, who would probably find it very cute if he actually made it that far), hiding Literally Very Important information about his siblings from Bruce and Alfred because he's not a snitch, and he is a great little brother. (he's going to get an A in Little Brother which is something totally normal to want and achieve)

He eventually gets BIG scolded for his constant misbehaviour, though. Bruce and Dick are asking why he's going off the rails so much when he doesn't even seem particularly angry anymore - in fact, sometimes he even seems fairly content! Is there an issue they're unaware of? Something he's not expressing to the family? They're not mad if there's a problem, they just want to help!

So, of course, he then has to embarrassingly explain that he was just following little brother protocol, according to.. the internet. He gets bullied about it for weeks by his elders (to different degrees), since the internet is not going to help anyone be a better sibling, but they also each try to explain (in their own ways) (their own waynes) why he was so, so very wrong about the way he approached being a good sibling, so he can hopefully improve at it (and stop terrorising the household).

(I saw a meme post about Damian putting legos all over the floor + hiding Tim's shoes to harm him and it made me think of the concept)

(Also once he learns that acting extra cute really can get him what he wants, he tries to use it now and then to his advantage, but is hilariously bad at doing it, since he doesn't really have a grasp on what makes a younger sibling cute (which is.... literally just existing,, according to me, a middle child). Lucky for him the others eat up every attempt because it's so obvious what he's doing that it becomes cute to them, so he doesn't need to get real practice with it until he tries to use it on a non-bat who laughs at him for far too long about it and thusly brews fire in him to go back to the pranks he tried at the start of the little brother training montage and show them real sibling pain for making a fool of him.)

[sengoku-nadeko]

[vv-ispy]

anyway my other venti's history shaping how he is headcanon is that as a wisp he was rarely taken seriously — people are kind to him and will put faith in him due to his being an elemental being, but between a little wind wisp vs a storm god, the wisp isn't doing much they're in the middle of the archon war, great strong gods are getting struck down all the time. (Even later as a god he's seen as the weakest god, possibly the god with the unlikiest of origins out of a group who were gods and powerful being before reaching archonhood)

But the bard treats him not as a contender, not as a god candidate, not even as their hope to take down Decarabian but as a friend.

So he doesn't take himself seriously either, he knows he has the power now yes but habits remain and he doesn't want to be a tyrannt, and in the end the most impactful relationship in his life will always be the bard who treated him not for his role or his potential but as a friend to love and cherish and understand

[maruren]

Keep your paws in a decent way, you nasty dog.

[canisalbus]

If your still undecided about what modern au Machete would have as a job, I would like to nominate him as a niche fashion model. Not like a popular celebrity, because he's not conventionally attractive, but he has that aura. He can Walk (in heels!!!)

I want to give him an excuse to wear all different kinds of fancy clothes, basically. He deserves to be dressed to the nines and glare down at an audience from the runway.

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[nightvale-radio]

pre-strex kevin and post-strex kevin system swag. you agree

[majimasleftasscheek]

DID U SEE THE NEW INFINITE WEALTH TRAILER AND ARE YOU ALSO CRYING AND SCREAMING LIKE I AM??

INFINITE WEALTH MORE LIKE INFINITELY BEATING ME WITH A TIRE IRON

GOOD FOR ICHIBAN HAVING FUN AND WHATEVER YIPPEE BUT WHAT ABOUT HOW MY ASS WAS RAWED BY INEVITABLE MORTALITY

I'VE BEEN IN CAR ACCIDENTS THAT HAVE HURT ME LESS

[iniziare]

Consider Yelan's facial expression to be my own in reaction to opinions shared on both X and Tumblr, and I guess I'm in the minority of the 'loud ones', but I'm pretty excited for Natlan since that trailer, actually. The previous teasers left me a little 'eh', but this definitely got my hopes back up, and I'm back in the right spirits for it (and ready to catch some Pokémon.)

Now I wouldn't be me if I didn't touch on the salt that I've seen scattered across the dash, so here I go. Listen, I read people's objections and I see what you're all aiming at, but in that light want to note that it's often incredibly easy to point fingers (arguably too much so) at others while being, quite honestly, hopefully rather aware that many of our own countries, cultures, and its populations across the board (and no, I'm not excluding anyone here) would likely be just as easily guilty as MHY is with these things. And no, I'm not blindly defending them, but I also won't point fingers at only one without pointing them everywhere else as well, including those you might think would 'never do such things', because I'm absolutely certain that they would. /continues on in the tags.

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

Swan and Swan, continued are both up, here and on ao3.

We're almost to 100k, guys, but most importantly WE'RE FINALLY PASSED THE GRAND CRYSTAL BALL THANK AKATOSH

(actual footage of me and my beta as we wave Solitude goodbye)