#the food is always so fucking good

[cowboylikeghost]

We're officialy entering the second love obsess part of the year : christmas. Soon there will be hallmark movies on every chanel, pyjamas made for couple with Mrs. and Mr. written on the back, people feeling desesperate because they have no one to bring to their familly on christmas day and (the worst of all) nobody to kiss on new years eve!!! This is way harder for us aroace than Valentine's day because it last two whole months, it's even harder when you're like me and fucking love xmas. I just love all the lights and decorations.

So let me introduce you to ✨aroace christmas✨, walking alone in the snow, going to a coffee shop with a friend, watching xmas animated movies (because it's less likely to have romance), cuddling with your pet and studying alone in your bedroom with a candle.

I know it's gonna be a hard season but don't worry y'all, we'll make it!! Fuck what allos think, being single for xmas or new year eve does NOT mean you suck, are a loser or anything. Happy xmas season everyone! 🎄🎁

[heartorbit]

i want to know everything that makes you happy! 💫🪐🎇

[necrotic-nephilim]

bftc jaytim fuck nasty in their batman suits🩷

CORRECT THEY DO. it's like you live in my brain, anon. and for that, you get a full fic bc i've wanted to write this anyway and you gave me an excuse to. have 6k words worth of dirtybadwrong JayTim. rough sex, blood play, pain play, degradation, consensual but not safe or sane, dead dove vibes so be warned. but also enjoy bc ily for this thought anon 🩷

“You look ridiculous in that get-up. Like a kid out for trick-or-treats.” The words were just as brutal as the fight was. Jason had the bodyweight and training to easily pin Tim, now that he was done toying around. 

Of course, toying around for Jason Todd looked like bloody slashes across Tim’s back, base of his skull, and his forehead. Picking one of Bruce’s older suits may have been a bad idea on Tim’s part. The armor was thinner and easier for Jason to slash through with a batarang in a clenched fist. 

Tim had managed to knock the batarang out of Jason’s hand, but that also seemed like a bad idea now, with Jason on top of Tim. His fists were even more brutal, blunt weapons and he’d reinforced the gloves to make his punches hit harder across Tim’s face. 

There was blood pouring from Tim’s nose and mouth. With all the pain flaring across his body, it was hard for him to get a good read on if anything was broken or not. 

All he knew was it hurt. His head spun from slamming against the concrete. It was hard for Tim to blink his eyes into focus. And when he did, he wished he hadn’t. Jason was leaning in so close, his mask was all Tim could see. Tim dizzily wondered how the glowing eyes didn’t impede Jason’s vision. 

“Look at me,” Jason demanded. His voice was robotic behind the thick metal mouthpiece. One of his fists pulled back for another punch. “Do you see terror? Do you see fear? Or is it just your own reflection?”

By some miracle, Tim managed to catch the punch before it connected with his face. The muscles in his wrist and forearm screamed at the animalistic strength Jason pushed back with, inching his fist closer and closer to connecting. If it did manage to connect, Tim knew his own hand in the way wouldn’t do much to soften the blow. If anything, Jason would shatter Tim’s knuckles against his own nose.

Not a pretty thought.

“That mad I said no to being your Robin?” Tim wheezed. It was hard to get air in his lungs, with Jason perched on his chest, putting all his weight on Tim’s midsection. 

Jason scoffed with cruel amusement. “You’re a second choice, Drake. It doesn’t matter to me if you say no, I can always ask the original. He’d at least put up a better fight than you’re managing.”

Tim couldn’t argue that. He thought he’d have some kind of chance in a fight against Jason, but it was a losing game to confront Jason on his turf, in a suit Tim wasn’t comfortable in. He was too stupid to even bring his bo staff.

A great Batman he was turning out to be.

With bloody teeth, Tim smiled. “You’re right. Is that why I’m your reflection, Jason? Two second rate Robins who will never be the original?” He managed a laugh against protesting ribs. “For what it’s worth, I still think I’m better than you. Least I didn’t die.”

He couldn’t see the look on Jason’s face, but he didn’t need to. The feral yell that came out of Jason spoke for itself at how well Tim got under his skin. Jason’s other fist came barreling toward Tim’s face, but he managed to move his head out of the way, making it only connect with the ground. Jason’s punch was hard enough to make the concrete crack.

Even with the reinforced gloves, that had to hurt. Maybe a couple cracked bones, if Tim was lucky. Jason couldn’t hit as hard if he injured himself. 

That was a solid plan. If he’d actually planned it in the first place. 

“Can’t believe I ever liked you, Drake,” Jason snarled, pulling his hand free from the concrete. He flexed his fingers just a bit too slow. He definitely hurt himself, even if he was trying to hide it. Jason went for his utility belt, grabbing another batarang. 

“Flattering,” Tim deadpanned. He tried to elbow Jason in the neck, but Jason easily twisted away from the blow. 

“I really did you know,” Jason said. Maybe it was the mask, but Tim could’ve sworn Jason’s tone changed slightly. “If Bruce hadn’t corrupted you, you really could’ve been something.”

Tim ignored the comment about Bruce. Bruce’s death was too raw for Tim to be able to look at his grief about it head-on. “Can’t say the feeling was mutual,” Tim grunted. He tried to slash his glove fins across Jason’s face. But Jason was smarter. He had a more durable suit that made the blow easily glance off. 

Damn Tim for picking this suit. He idealized Bruce’s image too much and forwent practicality. He was paying for it now. A new suit would’ve had proper weapons worked into the wrists for Tim to easily flick out. 

“I don’t know about that,” Jason mocked with a cold laugh. “Remind me again Drake, who broke me out of prison?”

He had a point. 

“Real great job you’ve done repaying that kindness,” Tim muttered. He avoided addressing it directly. He didn’t owe Jason his reasons. Especially not with how they’d all blown up in his face. 

“I never needed your kindness,” Jason growled. He wrapped a hand around Tim’s throat and pressed down just enough to make it uncomfortable for Tim to breathe. “That’s what all you Bats could never get through your skulls. I didn’t need to be Bruce’s pity project, and I definitely didn’t need to be yours.”

“Trust me,” Tim fought to get the words out, trying to worm his fingers under Jason’s grip. “You don’t have my pity.”

“What do I have, then?”

“My contempt.” The more Tim struggled, the tighter Jason’s grip got. The sharp points of his claws were starting to dig into Tim’s skin and draw blood. Blood flow was cut off from Tim’s brain and he fought to keep hold of his consciousness. 

“Liar,” Jason hissed. “No one else is here, Tim. You don’t have to pretend and hide things from me I already know.”

Maybe passing out would be a good thing. Then, Tim would have a convenient reason for not answering Jason. A reason to not face the truth Jason wanted him to bare.

Tim knew that Jason probably knew. The way they’d looked at each other through the prison safety glass when Jason was locked up had a thousand unspoken words in just a shared smile. A promise, that maybe, if Jason cleaned himself up with this second chance, there could be something between them.

But Jason didn’t clean up. He flung himself in the opposite direction, if anything. A growing body count and an ugly reign of terror that was Tim’s job to stop.

He started this. He put misplaced faith in Jason. Tim’s bad judgment jeopardized Gotham. 

And now Jason wanted the unspoken part said out loud. Something a part of Tim would rather die than admit after all this. They both already knew. Making Tim say it was just an obvious attempt to humiliate him and Tim refused to sink to Jason’s level.

All this over a stupid crush. 

“Fine,” Jason continued when Tim didn’t say anything. “I’ll say it for you. You loved me.”

Tim made a face and twisted, finally forcing Jason’s hand free from his neck with a hard strike to his inner elbow. “It wasn’t love,” he insisted through grit teeth.

“What was it then?”

Tim didn’t say a word. He wasn’t going to give in to Jason’s cruelty.

“Tell you what,” Jason’s voice dropped low and almost sultry. “If you say it out loud, I’ll give you a free pass. No one will know.”

“A free pass?”

There was no way Jason was implying what Tim thought he was.

“Right here, right now.” Jason nodded. “Can’t say I’ll make it sweet, but something tells me you’re not the vanilla type anyway.”

Shit. He was implying that. Tim’s breath caught in his throat.

The answer should’ve been obvious. 

The answer was obvious. Tim was laying in a growing pool of his own blood because of Jason. Countless people were dead because of Jason. Bruce’s legacy was being destroyed because of Jason. Whatever little crush Tim had once had was long gone and replaced with disgust and hatred.

Most of it was. 

But some small piece of Tim clung to the way Jason grinned at him. And that small piece of him seemed to be steering the rest of him, making him hesitate on what should’ve been an easy answer. An easy chance to catch Jason off guard and get the upper hand in the fight.

Tim hoped the cowl hid enough of his face that his expression wasn’t readable. 

“Over my dead body,” Tim forced the words out, pulling himself back into reality. Praying Jason wouldn’t read into the pause. 

Jason’s body shifted. He was quiet for a moment, then he shrugged and brought the batarang clenched in his fist to Tim’s neck, easily finding the jugular. “So be it. I agree anyway. Killing you is the best way to cut this goddamn feeling out of me.”

“What feeling?” Tim frowned, fingers twitching as he stalled, trying to think of a real plan. 

“No, no.” Jason shook his head and laughed. It was a hollow sound, this time. “You don’t get to have your cake and eat it too. If you won’t say it, then I won’t either.”

Oh.

“You…” Tim sucked in a breath. He was on death’s edge, a blade to his neck, but somehow it was the furthest thing from his spinning mind. “You like me? Like that?” He said it like a stupid high schooler, too shy to even look their crush in the eye. 

“What difference does it make now?” Jason shifted his weight on Tim, bearing down more. “This was always how it was going to end, between us.”

“It makes all the difference,” Tim said. He didn’t know why it did. But he knew it did. Tim reached a hand up, but instead of going for Jason’s batarang, he went further. His fingers reached under his own cowl and tugged it off, baring his face to Jason. 

Vulnerability. A metaphorical white flag, surrendering to Jason. 

Tim was dangerously close to getting himself killed. He could feel it, in his beating heart and overflowing adrenaline. 

“I would’ve come at this from a different angle if I knew…” Tim started, before trailing off. They were still dancing around saying it directly.

Jason barked out another laugh. “Oh, would you? What, you would’ve come to talk instead of fight? You really think that would’ve worked?”

“Maybe-“

“I told you,” Jason’s grip on the batarang tightened, “I don’t need your fucking pity.”

“And you don’t have it,” Tim snapped back. Too angry. This angle was quickly slipping away from him. Shit. “You’re a psychopathic killer and I don’t know if you can ever been redeemed after what you’ve done. But I would’ve tried out of love, not pity, you sanctimonious asshole.”

Jason stuttered. He leaned back and breathed hard. Tim really wished he wasn’t wearing that stupid mask. “You said it wasn’t love.”

Tim took in a deep breath, and let himself fall over the ledge he’d been trying so hard to cling to since Jason pinned him. “I lied.”

For a moment, Tim was convinced he’d just sealed his own coffin. Whatever Jason’s feelings were, it didn’t seem like they were any particular deterrent to hurting Tim. He was inches away from killing Tim and leaving his body for someone else to find.

If they found Tim’s body at all.

But instead. Instead, Jason reached up and ripped the metal part of his mask off, tossing it aside to skitter off into the darkness.

And he kissed Tim.

Tim let out the breath he was holding against Jason’s mouth. And in turn, Jason breathed him in, greedy with his kiss. The batarang was kept firm against Tim’s throat, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Jason was kissing him. 

There was still the logical side of him screaming just how bad of an idea this was. All the reasons he could think of to not tangle with Jason were running circles across his mind. 

Tim ignored them and kissed Jason back. 

Jason tasted like metal and he smelled like gunpowder. Both of those things made sense and made Tim want more. He wanted every single part of Jason he could drink up, even from a single kiss. Jason’s tongue was in his mouth, licking and opening Tim up. They shared each other’s blood through the kiss, until Tim couldn’t tell whose was whose. 

The kiss was broken by Jason just as suddenly as it was started. Jason pulled back and raised the batarang. Panic flashed through Tim and he instinctively threw his hands up to cover his face and neck. 

The batarang slashed through Tim’s suit though, thankfully not giving him what might’ve been the stupidest death in the history of vigilantism. Jason didn’t seem to care about making sure the cut didn’t get Tim’s skin, though. Shallow wounds sprang across Tim’s skin and he hissed, watching Jason turn the suit to ribbons. The batarang was then tossed aside so Jason could rip off the suit as he leaned back. 

The bat symbol on Tim’s chest stayed in tact, but everything below it was ripped away, exposing him from his abs down to his thighs. Jason knew exactly how to unclip the utility belt and throw that aside, with the shreds of fabric. 

Cold air hit Tim’s most private areas. He wanted to cover himself, but he couldn’t get his hands to obey. His entire body was paralyzed under Jason’s gaze.

“Take off your mask,” Tim found his voice, rough and not sounding like himself.

Jason wore a cruel smirk. “No.” He did take off his gloves, though. Tim didn’t hide his sigh of relief. He didn’t want those claws on his skin. He was bleeding enough as it was.

The moment Jason’s hands were bare, he ran them over Tim’s skin. Tim hissed and flinched, but didn’t pull away. He let Jason’s warm hands claim his skin. Jason wasn’t kind or gentle. He smeared Tim’s blood around, exploring every bare inch. Tim’s stomach, his hips, his back, his legs. 

Jason curled a hand around Tim’s dick and Tim’s back arched. 

To be fair, this wasn’t exactly how he’d pictured sleeping with Jason. Still, he couldn’t find it in him to complain. 

Jason jerked Tim off rough and fast. The blood on his hand was slick enough to make a smooth glide over the callouses of his palm. Tim groaned, eyes fluttering shut. He bucked into Jason’s hand. As much pain as his body was in, the pleasure was too distracting for him to care. Tim choked on every breath he managed to take in, unable to stop himself from crying out and whining.

His body was screaming at him because of what Jason had done to him. And now, he was letting himself fall apart to Jason’s hands in a different way. 

“If Grayson found us, he’d think I was fucking torturing you from all the pathetic noises you’re making,” Jason growled. He barely sounded human. He slid his other hand up Tim’s chest and grabbed Tim’s face, stroking his cheek. 

Tim groaned at the thought. He forced his eyes to open just so he could look at Jason. He really wished Jason would take the cowl off. Tim wanted to see Jason’s face more than anything. 

“Don’t bring him up,” Tim gasped, practically humping Jason’s hand for more delirious pleasure. “I don’t want to think about him now.”

At least he could see Jason’s smirk. “Why? Because you know he’d disapprove?”

“Because I want to think about you.” Tim tried to grab at Jason’s suit to pull it off. His hands were clumsy and shaky though, probably from blood loss. All he could do was uselessly press them against Jason’s chest and feel the warmth through layers of armor.

“Fuck,” Jason groaned. His whole body shuddered, affected by Tim’s words alone. Jason stopped jerking Tim off so he could unclip his belt. He kept his other hand against Tim’s face though. Stroking it. “Least I know why you broke me out of prison, now.”

Tim made an aghast noise. “This is not why I broke you out of prison.”

Jason leaned in close, resting his face against Tim’s. “You still broke me out. So all my blood is on your hands too, Tim.” He pressed a kiss against Tim’s temple. “Bruce wouldn’t have been stupid enough to do that. Hell of a Batman you make.” It was like he had crawled into Tim’s brain just to voice all the awful little thoughts that Tim tried to bury. 

“You-“ Tim tried to snap back, but he was distracted by the sound of Jason undoing a clasp, then a zipper. Tim looked down and watched, breath caught in his throat, as Jason pulled his cock out of his pants.

He was already hard. 

Jason’s hand smeared blood across his member. Tim swallowed at the sight. Jason had pushed his pants down just enough to expose a sliver of pale skin. He had a sharp v-line and toned muscles just from the bit Tim could see. An embarrassing noise came out of Tim’s throat.

“Pathetic,” Jason said, but he groaned on the word, working his hand over himself. It was filthy. Both of them, covered in blood, and Jason jerking off on top of Tim. 

Tim wrapped an arm around Jason. He wanted to sink his fingers into Jason’s hair, but he settled for wrapping them around the back of Jason’s cowl. Tim seriously considered trying to pull the cowl off himself, but he doubted Jason would take kindly to it. 

The noises Jason made as he pleasured himself were beautiful. Tim’s sounds were animalistic and, in Jason’s own words, pathetic. Barely human sounding. But Jason. Jason sounded practically divine, low and smooth as he moaned in Tim’s ear. 

“Please,” Tim gasped. He wasn’t sure what he was asking for.

“That desperate?” Jason downright purred. 

Tim didn’t hold himself back from nodding. He swallowed down his dignity. 

If he had any dignity left.

“I’m not going to be gentle,” Jason warned. Like he was giving Tim one last chance to back out.

Tim just laughed. “If you think I want you to be gentle, you really don’t know a thing about me.”

A guttural groan came out of Jason. He pulled back and lifted one of Tim’s legs, bending it as far back as he could. Tim wasn’t quite as flexible as Dick was, but Jason got pretty far before Tim’s muscles protested and he winced. 

“Of course you shave down there,” Jason commented. He slid a hand over Tim’s smooth skin around his cock and balls.

“I don’t like pubes getting caught in my suit,” Tim huffed, trying not to let his cheeks go red.

“Don’t worry,” Jason hummed, “I think it’s cute. Makes you look like a fucking virgin.”

“I’m not.” Like it mattered.

Jason paused, just staring at Tim. Was he disappointed? It was hard to tell. “I’m going to ruin you for anyone else, so it doesn’t matter either way.” Whether or not he was disappointed was masked with a rough, possessive anger that made Tim gasp.

Rough fingers ran over the shallow cuts on Tim’s stomach and he hissed at the sudden sharp pain. It wasn’t easy to ignore the dull throbbing when Jason was practically fingering the open wounds. Tim almost asked what the hell he was doing, before he realized Jason was smearing blood across his fingers, getting them slick and coated.

“Seriously? You’re going to use my own blood to fuck me?” Tim asked, like just the thought of it wasn’t making him spread his legs wider. Still, the idea of cleaning tacky blood out of himself did make Tim internally cringe.

“You got a better idea?” Jason shot back. 

“I think there’s lube in-“

“No.” Jason cut him off, pressing harder into the cuts just to make Tim wince. “We’re doing it my way, or I just leave you in a pool of your own blood with a hard-on.”

“Okay.” Tim caved instantly with a hushed whisper at the rough dominance. 

It was so easy, for Jason to take complete control of Tim. He was putty in Jason’s hands, content to be manipulated however Jason wanted, so long as Tim got his own pleasure out of it. If Jason wanted Tim to bleed, he would bleed. If he wanted Tim to be spread open and ready to be fucked, then Tim would give him that too.

Christ. He needed to be checked out mentally after this. 

Jason gave Tim a pleased hum, probably the closest thing to praise Tim was going to get out of him. He’d take it. Blood slick fingers pressed against Tim’s hole. Two fingers were forced in at once, hard and fast.

Tim screamed.

He didn’t expect Jason to be gentle, but it seemed like Jason was going out of his way to be rough. Scrapping his nails against Tim’s insides and brutally twisting his fingers around. He didn’t try to hit Tim’s prostate to bring any kind of pleasure. The brushes of his fingers over that spot were more painful than pleasurably, if anything. Fast and rough, giving Tim no chance to soak up the sparks of sensation from the bundle of nerves.

“Oh god,” Tim groaned, throwing his head back. His hips twitched violently, like they weren’t sure to press into Jason’s fingers for more, or to try to pull away from the horrible assault.

It’d been a while since Tim had been in this much pain. So battered from a fight that every movement of his body was weak and shaky. He grabbed onto Jason’s arm, desperate for an anchor. He couldn’t have pulled Jason off of him, even if he wanted to.

He didn’t, though. Tim wanted this to last as long as it possibly could. 

He never got to drown himself in the pain. Pain was something that had to be compartmentalized and ignored, for the sake of the mission. Getting back on his feet and ignoring the way his body screamed at him was one of the first things Bruce taught him. 

Now, Tim didn’t have to fight it. He could just give in. The half-hearted instincts from his body trying to fight back were ignored by Jason. Like Jason knew that Tim wanted this. 

Needed this. 

At some point, Jason must’ve worked a third finger inside of Tim. He didn’t notice. The burning stretch swirled with every other point of pain on his body. 

He did noticed when Jason finally decided to purposefully press against Tim’s prostate.

This pleasure was new. Foreign and overstimulating with how aggressively Jason pressed down on the spot, rubbing into it to pull all kinds of noises out of Tim he didn’t know he was capable of making. 

“Jason!” Tim cried out. “Fuck, too much, I can’t-“ Tim’s stomach was cramping from how hard his muscles clenched. He was falling, losing his grip on sensible reality. His head was full of cotton, foggy and unable to get a solid grip on coherent thought.

There were only three things that existed to Tim: pain, pleasure, and Jason. 

“You can’t what? Use your fucking words,” Jason mocked, vicious and uncaring. He rested Tim’s leg over his shoulder to free up his other hand. His fingers wrapped around Tim’s balls and tugged. Tim screamed and arched like a jack knife. He hadn’t noticed how close his orgasm was creeping up on him until Jason pulled it away with a brutal, carnal pain. When Tim lost control of his body, Jason found it and snatched it up, holding Tim’s pleasure in his palm. Tim wanted to curl in on himself, but he couldn’t force his limbs to obey. 

“Hurts,” was all Tim could groan out. He might’ve been crying. It was hard to tell, with his face so wet with blood. 

“Good.”

“Jason,” Tim tried to beg. He was lost to subspace, something he barely realized until now. “I can’t take anymore.” He wanted more. More than want, god, he needed more, but his body was wired so tight Tim was convinced he was going to snap if Jason kept going. 

He wanted that too.

“That’s not for you to decide.” Jason’s rough voice was a light at the end of a tunnel Tim was struggling toward to ground himself. To focus on something besides the agony crashing over his body in brutal waves. “Do you really think you’re in the fucking state to know what you can take?”

Jason was right. Tim just whined, a noise that turned into a choked sob when Jason pulled his fingers out just enough to slam them into Tim’s sweet spot again, overwhelming him with more awful pleasure. 

“Give yourself over to me,” Jason demanded. He leaned in close again. Tim’s vision was blurred, but he could smell the gunpowder and leather. “Say it. Say I own you.”

Tim wanted to. He tried, opening his mouth and struggling to get the words out. He could only make more pathetic noises.

“Say it, or I’ll stab you and leave you to fucking bleed out.”

He probably wasn’t lying.

“You-“ Tim choked on the word, shaking so hard his muscles were spasming. “You own me.” Three little words, and they were the hardest words Tim had ever tried to say. Each one fought against him, getting stuck in his throat. 

But he said them. Because right now, they were the only religion Tim believed in. 

“Look at that,” Jason cooed. So patronizing. “You’re not completely brainless and worthless. Yet, anyway.” He pulled his fingers out of Tim. One second those fingers had been driving Tim mad because they were inside of him, and now they were driving him mad because they left him empty and wanting. 

His body needed more. More pain, more pleasure. Until he broke and Jason fucked the shattered pieces left of Tim. 

Jason got a hand underneath Tim, using the blood from the gash on Tim’s back to slick his fingers this time. That gash was far deeper. Something that probably needed stitches. It had started trying to clot but Jason agitated it enough for fresh blood to pour out. He was able to actually work his fingers under Tim’s bloody skin, making Tim shriek and try to pull away. 

There was nowhere for him to escape from the mind-numbing pain. When he pulled away, he just crashed into Jason’s chest, forehead bumping against the bat symbol of Jason’s suit. 

“So fucking easy to push your buttons,” Jason laughed. He moved his fingers around a bit more just to make his point and pull more wounded noises out of Tim. Then he finally pulled them free and let Tim fall back to the hard ground. It knocked the wind out of Tim.

He didn’t have a chance to try to get air into his lungs. Because Jason slicked himself up with a disturbing speed and lined up. The warning of blunt pressure against Tim’s hole lasted a fraction of a second and then Jason snapped his hips. Buried to the hilt.

Tim almost passed out.

He didn’t know if it was from the pain, the blood loss, or his body’s inability to get oxygen into his lungs. Everything exploded inside of Tim. He was full, so full so fast. Jason’s fingers hadn’t been nearly kind enough to properly stretch Tim for Jason’s size. It almost felt like being stabbed.

Over and over, as Jason fucked into Tim with no kindness. 

A hard slap across Tim’s face forced him off of the edge of unconsciousness. He gasped, eyes snapping open to find Jason’s face right above his, the glowing eyes of the mask taking over Tim’s field of vision. 

Jason was smiling. Blood on his teeth, dripping out of his mouth. Was it his blood or Tim’s?

Tim hoped it was both. 

“I don’t know which Bruce would find more pathetic,” Jason groaned as he fucked into Tim, pulling small screams out of Tim with each punch of his cock, “you putting on that suit, or you letting me fuck you in it.” He brought his lips to Tim’s ear. “Who’s ruining his legacy now?”

If the physical pain wasn’t bad enough, Jason knew exactly how to rip open the wounds of Tim’s emotional pain alongside it. Tim cried out at the thought. 

What would Bruce think of him, like this? Pathetic and barely human underneath Jason Todd?

“And they call me the failed Robin,” Jason just kept talking, like he wasn’t destroying Tim from the inside out. “At least I know how to be something other than Robin. Are you really delusional enough to think you’re going to be the next Batman?” A long moan came out of him and he thrust even harder until Tim screamed loud enough to make himself dizzy. “Answer me.”

Tim just shook his head. “No.” His voice was broken. His throat was sore from screaming, but the word still came out. He’d never thought he really could be Batman. So what the hell was he thinking, putting this suit on?

“Good.” Jason slid his fingers under the bat symbol on Tim’s chest, one of the only parts of the suit in tact. He ripped it off, the fabric tearing loudly in Tim’s ears. “It’s good you know your fucking place.” Jason changed his angle, finding Tim’s battered prostate again. Tim didn’t have the air in his lungs to scream anymore. All he could do was weakly mewl and whimper.

He could die like this. He honestly might. Tim had no idea how his body was holding on, in this state. Maybe it was the pain and pleasure alone keeping him alive. Just so he could soak up every touch from Jason.

Tim was never going to allow himself to do this again. So he had to enjoy it while it lasted.

This time, Tim felt his orgasm creeping up on him. His fingers dug into Jason’s arm and he pressed up into Jason’s warmth. The material of Jason’s suit was rough and unforgiving. It didn’t feel particularly good for Tim to grind his cock against, but he didn’t care. He needed any kind of friction, whether it brought him pleasure or road rash. 

“I won’t stop if you come,” Jason warned, still hammering into Tim at a pace that should’ve been impossible for a normal human to manage. “This isn’t to make you feel good. It’s to put you in your fucking place.”

Tim could only whine, managing a nod of understanding. This was his place. He knew that. He never wanted to leave it. 

The threat of being fucked into overstimulation hung over Tim’s head, but he couldn’t stop himself from chasing the high of his orgasm. He almost wanted to feel the overstimulation. Like his orgasm was just something to get over with so Tim could completely give himself over to Jason. To be used just for Jason’s pleasure, even if it brought him nothing but more pain. 

That thought made Tim’s balls tighten. The only warning he could give Jason was a high pitched keen that barely sounded like Tim’s own voice. His eyes rolled back.

The pleasure of his orgasm didn’t overtake the screaming pain in the rest of his body. It just mixed with the pain, swirling into one intense feeling Tim didn’t have a name for. He screamed until his throat gave out. His back arched and he clenched around Jason, who kept driving into him. Jason growled in Tim’s ear. He was holding Tim’s hip so tight there would be bruises that would end up indistinguishable from the rest of Tim’s injuries.

All injuries that Jason gave Tim. Tim’s body was a canvass, and Jason’s favorite color to paint with was the red that poured out of Tim. 

It was the best orgasm Tim had ever felt. No feeling was ever going to match this intensity. 

Tim came down from his high with an awful wheeze, shuddering. He clung to Jason, like a guard dog laying at the feet of his master. 

“Fuck,” Jason moaned. A shudder ran down his spine and his pace faltered, just for a moment. “You’re really something else, Drake.” From Jason, that was practically a compliment for Tim to soak up and preen under. 

Tim’s body tipped over the edge of overstimulation. His survival instincts kicked in, trying to fight Jason. There was no strength behind his kicks and hits. They just made Jason laugh as Tim made a fool of himself.

“I own you,” Jason reminded Tim. He caught Tim’s wrist and pinned it against the cold concrete, squeezing tight enough to cut off circulation to Tim’s fingers. “I can do whatever I want to your useless body. Don’t try to fight it now.” He leaned down and found an exposed part of Tim’s neck to sink his teeth into. It wasn’t a hickey, but a proper bite, breaking Tim’s skin. 

Tim cried out, but still tilted his head to the side to give Jason better access to his neck. Even when his body wanted to fight, Tim managed to submit. Like the submission was natural to him. 

The pain took over. Tim just floated in it, forcing himself to go limp. Submit. No more fighting. He gave in to Jason and stopping thinking. All Tim needed to do was feel. Feel every point of agony scattered across his body. Feel Jason fucking him. Using him, like Tim was nothing more than a toy. The sparks from Jason slamming into his sweet spot couldn’t be called pleasure anymore, with Tim’s cock spent and limp. It was more pain. 

Better that way. Tim liked the pain more. Delicious and mind-numbing. 

Jason was swearing against Tim’s skin. He mumbled something Tim didn’t catch. Three syllables. Short and rushed out. Tim was almost convinced the second word was love. Maybe he was making it up in his head though, finally lost in utter delirium.

Tim didn’t care.

More insults fell from Jason’s lips. Calling Tim nothing, worthless, pathetic. A cheap pretender who deserved this. Tim agreed with all of it, feverishly nodding. The words were practically sweet nothings in Tim’s ears. 

Jason yelled Tim’s name when he came. His hips stuttered to a stop, buried deep inside of Tim. He knew Jason was coming inside of him, but his body was too battered to feel Jason’s cum filling his insides. Shame that was. Tim wanted to know how it felt, to be claimed by Jason in this carnal way.

They were both so perfectly still, for two people who had been shaking and clawing at each other just moments ago. The only noise was heavy breathing that echoed through the night.

Tim swallowed. He tried to find himself through the pain. He worked through the body checklist that Bruce gave him. Vision. Smell. Taste. Feel. Sound. All the sensations clashed against each other, out of focus and pounding against Tim’s skull.

It was so hard to think.

Tim groaned. Focus. 

Like cold water thrown on his face, he clawed his way out of subspace. Tim got a good look at Jason’s face.

“Are you crying?” Tim voiced the thought as soon as it crossed his mind. 

With the mask, it was hard to tell. Jason’s breathing was shuddered, hitching on every inhale. Tim wouldn’t call it sobbing, but it was close enough for Tim to study Jason’s face. The wetness coming out from under Jason’s mask wasn’t red. It streaked through the blood. 

Tear tracks. 

Jason’s completely rational response was to punch Tim in the face.

Tim swore and curled in on himself, cupping his nose. If it wasn’t broken before, it was now. Jason pulled out of Tim without any care and stood up, leaving him curled up on the ground, trying to set the broken bone and manage the bleeding.

Tim tried to sit up. His arms and legs gave out under him and he slammed back to the ground with a pained noise. He looked up at Jason, squinting. Watching as Jason tucked himself back into his pants, then snatched his gloves off the ground to put them back on.

Despite clearly losing the fight, Tim had done a number on Jason. Jason’s face was bloody and his suit was ripped and torn in some places. He looked like he had been mauled by a wild animal.

If that was how Jason looked, Tim couldn’t imagine what the sight of his own body was.

His second attempt to sit up worked. Now, he compartmentalized. Forced the pain deep into the corners of his mind and locked it up. 

Tim had to be functional now. He couldn’t let the regret and shame get to him.

“I-“ Jason started to say something. It was only one word, but it sounded uncharacteristically soft, making Tim straighten his back and hold his breath. But Jason cleared his throat and folded his arms, stamping down whatever kindness had almost come out. “I’ll throw you a bone. If any of the Bats find you like this you can just tell them I raped you,” he said it like some kind of mean joke.

Tim didn’t say anything. That wasn’t true. They both knew it.

“Preserve your precious dignity you care so much about, huh?” Jason continued. He sounded unsure of himself and he turned away from Tim. 

“Jason-“ Tim reached out for him. “We can still-“ he struggled for the words. “It doesn’t have to end like this. You can still change. I’ll-“

“Don’t,” Jason snapped. He kicked away Tim’s hand. “We both know it’s too late for that.” He started to walk away. “Never wear that suit again, Drake. I’d hate to see you die to someone that isn’t me.” He almost sounded… protective? Tim wouldn’t call it fondness, but maybe something close to that. Tim refused to allow himself to read into it. Whoever Jason Todd had become, he was someone that Tim couldn’t save. He was someone who didn’t want to be saved, no matter how Tim felt about him. Tim had to accept that, even with Jason’s cum deep inside him. Some truths were immutable. 

Then, Jason was gone. Vanishing into the shadows and leaving Tim there.

Tim tilted his head back. He allowed himself thirty seconds. He counted them. Thirty seconds to sit in his own filth and feel the pain for just a little longer, before he had to move and figure out how he was going to get home in one piece without anyone finding out what happened here.

Just ten more seconds.

Five. 

Three.

One.

With grit teeth and a deep breath, Tim stood up.

[sciderman]

stupid thing that lives in my head forever on replay and i think about an unreasonable amount

[poppytuft]

the bear s3 spoilers

below the cut! thinking about claire and stuff we saw this season re: carmy/syd/the restaurant/donna, just finished the season so itll be a mess and also im comin in way too hot on this so my bad

sometimes...... sometimes i believe you guys are all watching different tv. im not sure how this season didnt feel like a direct through line from s2?? and im not sure WHY everyone is SO MAD about claire LITERALLY "haunting" this season. girl. come on. we need to have a sit down talk about how the berzatto generational trauma is the real meat of this show (this will make sense, just trust me). thats the MAIN EMOTIONAL POINT. syd's relationship with her dad, marcus and his mom, richie and evie, even tina and louie are all examples of parental relationships that are tender, sweet, supportive, etc. these are INTENTIONAL!! by creating these relationships we see PLAINLY how fucked donna is and how much she fucked up all of these kids. thats why "ice chips" was such a FANTASTIC episode. there was SO MUCH unpacked, so much revealed, so much worked through with sugar and her but at the end of the day she's still learning how to unlearn all of this horrific narcissistic bullshit. SHES STILL UNLEARNING THOUGH. thats where fucking DONNA of all people sits right now——somehow, she's learning how to heal. EVERYONE IS LEARNING. that's also what is so important about that episode.

now lets look at carmy. in "ice chips" we are LITERALLY told about how each berzatto is born: mikey fighting against the idea of being alive at all, nat into a quiet, soothing room, and CARMY is fucking born into EVERYONE SCREAMING and ARGUING and FIGHTING. we are BLATANTLY told that all carmy has ever known is HELL and all he's ever known how to communicate is through exploding. this is so violently against what we also know about his personality from childhood in "fishes" (anxious growing up, arts-oriented, had a hard time making friends). now, he works a violently stressful job, processing the trauma from both his mother (and chef fields [joel mchale], realistically) through the high-stress environment.

NOW. ENTER CLAIRE.

HOW is she not fascinating to you all. we don't see her whole story (because the bear, duh) but we are given just enough pieces here to put together that her story runs parallel to carmy's. how are you not getting this. walk with me.

claire. glasses, nerdy, quiet, sweet, girl next door. family friend! cute, but considered mid for a long time by everyone at school, but suddenly the berzatto men all badger carm, "oh she got a glow up, oh shes looking for you, she wants to see you," etc etc etc. what happened in between?

she finds herself. she finds the stressful thing she LOVES, which is the hospital. her job is objectively more stressful than carmy's (illustrated by that scene earlier in the season but i forgot the episode, where claire talks about the girl who got her shit wrecked by the glass table), and while we don't have an exact understanding of what her home life was like, we understand that her and carmy both have a level of internal anxiety that thrives on the stress of their careers. HOWEVER, claire does it because she loves it. carmy just doesn't know how to stop.

this is what makes claire feel like "peace" to carmy——because her high-stress job is a choice, an active choice she is making because it fulfills her. it's not to prove her dead brother wrong, or to honor his own legacy, or to prove that dickbag boss wrong, or to leave a mark on the world, or to make her own life worthwhile, or to prove that she doesn't need anyone else. she genuinely enjoys helping people even when the days are stressful, or scary. he's obsessed with this. he wants to know how she does this. every day she leaves that stress at home——and he wants to learn how to do that too.

claire is VITAL to this season and to understanding carmy's stress——and how far back he is in his healing process. it should only become more and more apparent, as we see characters like tina (the beef/the bear became vital to her success/development as a chef AND person, both for the people AND her love of food), marcus (not hiding his grief, but using it to help rationalize how much his mother loved him and wanted to be surrounded by people that love him), and richie (finding a purpose through service/expo and understanding he can start over again) push through their own traumas and struggles to become better people. if donna can be not only present at sugar's bedside during labor, but WELCOMED at this point in the show, it makes carmy's inability to heal all the more present. claire is an important part of this puzzle: she helps us see a window into a world where carmy is balanced emotionally, but unbalanced professionally, because he has no idea how to make the two coexist.

however, the idea that he can be balanced emotionally at all is so fucking enticing——with the help of someone who experiences stress in the same way as him (and who is familiar with his familial trauma), he has the opportunity to grow up and move on from his family trauma and wounds perpetuated by the industry he works in.

on the flip side of this....... his inability to process any of this is starting to impact syd. and frankly, that's some bullshit. his lack of communication, inability to community build/trust ANYONE, and his violent stubbornness is pushing her into the same space that he was in under chef fields, in a much slower, more subtle manner, and for slightly different reasons. her panic attack at the end of the season could read in two directions to me: her stress over the responsibility of changing so many people's lives has boiled over once she remembered that the beef once was truly great (hey five star review on the fridge!), OR, she realizes how much she isn't in it for the food. fuck a Michelin star: she wants to cook with her family. chef terry says at the end of "forever", in the garage with carmy, that she's so grateful she got to do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, where she wanted, with the people she wanted to do it with. sydney is so close to having those things at the bear——but carmy's dysfunction is keeping it just out of arms reach. the two of them are now on opposite sides of the approach from last season: syd dying for a star, and carmy dying to cook for the woman he loved. now, carmy is hungy for recognition again, desperate to prove something, and sydney is remembering (thanks to the conversation with other chefs during the ever funeral service) why she loved cooking in the first place. so this leaves us to wonder: should she stick it out? for the people? or make something of herself? is she carmy, or is she terry? i guess we will just have to see.

all this to say: every character is connected. the bear is a show about family, found and blood, and the choices we make for, with, and because of the people we love, for better or for worse. food is only the center of it, because it's the center of all of our lives. you can't hate claire without understanding where she sits in the web of the berzatto family. and really, you can't hate her if you understand what her presence means for carmy, for syd, and the restaurant as a whole.

[sunnibits]

god. something about samfro is so…

[acidsaladd]

i saw this one tiktok and i thought of them,, can u tell i gave up at the end lmao

[id: It is a comic of Kai and Nya from ninjago. Kai is waving at the camera while saying “Heyyy so! We r gonna see how well we know each other!” Nya is behind him, eating something and looking at him with disinterest. Kai then reaches forward towards the viewer as if adjusting a phone and says “kay, so, imma leave & u gotta say what my favorite color is and my favorite food :)” Nya is standing beside him, a bowl of cereal on one hand, and the other resting on her hip.

Kai then proceeds to leave the room with a thumbs up and saying “ok go!” While Nya looks back at him. He closes the door and Nya stays in place, looks back at the door, then at the camera and then leaves the room; all the while she has her mouth full of cereal and is still holding the bowl on one hand.

The room is empty for a bit before Kai comes back, he immediately starts thinking before answering “her favorite color is red and her favorite food is lentejas”. He then reaches to take the camera and says “K, lets see how we did”. Immediately after that we can see both Kai and Nya from a low angle frowning at each other, Kai is saying “Nya why tf didn’t you say anything.”/ end id]

[vaguely-concerned]

so was anyone going to tell me that tinned anchovy and some spices sizzled in olive oil makes the most delicious sauce you've ever tasted in your life or was I just going to have to have that semi-religious experience by myself

[stellewriites]

vet’s verdict is to swap meowmeow’s food over and give her the portion of a 4.5kg cat to hopefully help her out

[triglycercule]

What do you think the types of drunk would the murder trio be? Im pretty sure ask dusttale already answered this question about dust but i have to ask the mtt expert

see now askdusttale DID answer the question. but they didn't ANSWER the question when asked what dust is like drunk. they just said that dust is the type to drink himself blackout drunk. so that mean i have total freedom on deciding what the mtt are like drunk hehehe (rubs hands together in a villanous way that you would imagine nightmare doing or something idk)

i already have an absolutely hilarious idea for horror and it might just because i'm on the guilt section of his character analysis but i could TOTALLY imagine him being an emotional drunk. like he CRIES. horror sans man known for being incredibly guarded and private with what he feels bawling his eye out. he gets mad he gets sad he does not get happy because horror doesn't have the right to be happy. he is too upset over the fact that he fucking DOOMED all of horrortale because of his selfishness and nothing can stop him from being incredibly vocal about that fact so much so that killer had to tape his mouth shut because he wouldn't stop crying so loud. and then he just silently cries until he passes out from exhaustion. the alcohol has an incredibly strong effect on him because i dont think he would drink regularly plus he definitely hasnt drinken anything in those 7 years of starvation. it hits like a fucking plane crashing into him. or like getting his eye taken out again. either one!

another funny idea i had for killer would be like the alcohol affecting him but he SWEARS that he's still sober. he is very confused when he starts stumbling because wtf he doesnt FEEL drunk??? why is he bumping into walls and tables HELP WHY DOES HE SOUND FUCKING STUPID???? the alcohol is definitely effecting him but he swears he swears he doesn't feel drunk. hes not drunk its just the damn body doing this stupid bullshit!!!! he's still very aware of what's going on and is basically the same as sober but just like. he's wiggly he's wobbly and oh shit he just fell head face first into a tv whoops. he'd also have a high tolerance because just because. he can drink without feeling like shit until he just blacks out mid conversation with someone because his body couldn't take the toll of all the beer or whatever. hilarious idea triglycercule thank you triglycercule i know

dust in the context that we already know that he drinks AND he can fight against the human while like partially drunk.... i feel it would be kinda like a giggly drunk situation. except dust doesn't laugh at anything that's funny he only laughs when someone gets hurt or something. SADISTIC giggly drunk. because i can already imagine a half drunk dust laughing his ass off after killing the human and its a beautiful sight to me.

anyways imagine how it goes when you pair this sadistic giggly drunk with another that wont stop going through the 5 stages of grief and another that keeps on fucking falling over for no reason in his eyes. dream blunt rotation but the blunt is a bottle of vodka. i can already imagine it in my head and its fucking HILARIOUS. horror going on about how he caused the deaths of others and manipulated and tricked papyrus while killer is just trying his best to keep his eyes open because for some reason they won't stop trying to close. he is surprisingly getting frustated. dust has long since lost his voice laughing at this and he's just silent wheezing at everything. also phantom papyrus is only making the laughter worse because he keeps on making rude comments towards horror and killer and only he can hear him and its guffaw inducing. mtt amazing friend group you dont get shit like this anywhere else

[naamahdarling]

.

[ouaw-facts-i-just-made-up]

Whenever the Krew settles down to actually hang up their adventuring days for good (or until something really funny happens), they each go get real actual jobs, if the carnival doesn't start back up that is.

Kremy opens his own restaurant. A casino would have been more fun but. Bad memories. Plus he really doesn't wanna be run out of this town, he *bought* a *house*. He's staying until it burns down, which is unfortunately likely when you live with a fire genasi. His restaurant is his little baby, much like the carnival (but much more legally done, to his dismay). It's actually quite popular.

Gideon likes doing more physical labor, and working with his hands. He briefly considered being a bodyguard for some uptight rich folk, but it felt like a slight betrayal to Kremy, as irrational as that is. He either lends a hand at a local farm or works at a machine/item repair shop. Who needs a dumb artificer when you have Gideon.

Gricko and Frost both start a little farm themselves. Nothing big, sort of like the kind you'd see in a backyard. They take odd jobs sometimes too, Gricko taking on the "help!! There's a big animal in a place we don't want them" jobs (mostly convincing the animal to move to a safer, less humanoid populated forest), and Frost does the ones that are more like your average "I need help repairing my item" or "can someone help me with my fucking taxes please I'm scared" jobs.

Torbek finds a job similar to Gideon's, though he mostly prefers the physical labor ones. Easier to learn, and he's used to helping with stuff around the carnival so he's great at it. He's just happy there's no possibility of falling off a really tall Ferris Wheel now

Hootsie gets to sit at home and chill. Preferably the home base is near a forest so she can go explore. Every once in a while she helps Gricko with his tasks, or helps Frost by being a rather large therapy dog for people who *really* hate taxes. She's enjoying life

[imgonnagetyoubacktv]

pata hai last kuch din i was very busy with my project kyunki final dena tha and binding karni thi etc to wo karwayi then i went to the bookfair bekaar tha then parso submit karne jaa rahi to subah accident hogaya (bhai ki bike skid hogayi and we fell down) and now i have a big ass blue bruise on my upper thigh and my parents don't even know lmao and kal ek science conference thi to i had to sit in an auditorium for 6 hours listening to accomplished people speak. that's what you missed now your turn

omg i knew everything in this except for the accident cause i stalk your blog vigorously everyday are you okay!!!!!!!!!! did you get tetanus shots!!!!!!!!!! also on your upper thigh oh no that's where future jiju is supposed to write MINE na as per our beloved song guilty as sin?

[tchaikovskaya]

🤪🫠😛😅

[prettysymbiosis]

celebrity booze: the ultimate cash grab

“hollywood celebrities right here in philly huh?” “I don’t love it” rcg wanna be regular guys so bad but they also wanna be rich and famous 🙄

second mention of picking a lane/staying in one’s lane (also maybe the car ride in shoots is connected to this motif?)

is it just me or does glenn say fortune in such a funny way??

rcg are just straight up self-mythologizing via this show and it’s weird to think about sometimes. I’ll probably try to write a separate post about that

mac dennis and charlie however are just three guys being dudes :)

“I think I’ve pinpointed a small market trend that we could corner but that could also totally represent us” is this as self-explanatory as I feel it is?

dennis is a CLOWN man like he is so confident in this absurd name and that is such an important characterization for him

“have you ever heard of a little show called… malcolm in the middle?” the joke being that they’re literally so out of touch they’ve apparently never heard of breaking bad, which is so fitting and so funny. does this lack of awareness also serve to illustrate how the gang is stuck in the past? or how they have trouble separating persona from person, even within themselves?

the insane and abusive silencing of dee… I definitely think something is coming together with her this season (dayglomasochism was sharing some great ideas about this in this post). she doesn’t want to circle, she wants to be included, but doesn’t want to be dragged down, etc.

the dynamic between her and frank is clearly significant, I mean everyone else is exploring their parent issues and dee’s dependence on him is a major theme this season. they were laying on the parent-and-child vibes pretty thick in this episode with her asking if she could look at his phone and frank telling her what snacks she could have and where to go potty, so I do think they’re trying to evoke that deep-seated dynamic and I’m very curious how dee will level up from here.

the sheer sass in mac asking dennis if he knows who michael jordan is is so satisfying

followed by the smirk that left several dead and hundreds injured

“can we stick with the one thing, please? stick with the blend!” “well this is a blend of ideas” and mac talking with his hands <3 I’ve missed that about him

“yeah but it’s a blend of too many ideas. I don’t even know what you’re talking about half the time” what is it’s always sunny in philadelphia really about?

the blend thread was one of the main messages of this episode. it’s so important because it’s not just a character commentary (dennis struggling to finally allow conflicting aspects of himself to coexist, to blend - give me dong AND give me death as @sunnykeysmash so eloquently put it) but also a show commentary (sunny has evolved into more of a dramedy, and this whole season they’ve been reconciling the differences between the old sunny and the new sunny and trying to blend “16 years of baggage” with their new vision for their project). I do give props to rcg for committing to this and letting the show evolve with them as people, clearly from episodes like big mo they have spent a lot of time thinking about it and trying to make the right choice.

the whole conceit of bryan and aaron in this episode is so insane. why did they make these extremely famous and respected actors come on their show just to be proxies for their gaysonas’ drama?? rcg really said “these are our little guys and they’re really fucked up but they do love each other. so what if you guys came on and did a whole thing like that but as yourselves? and it’ll be an amazing performance but it was really about us the whole time” and presumably bryan and aaron were like sure okay and put their whole pussies into it!

when you think about it mac and dennis are just dos hombres

dennis “I didn’t like that :(“ reynolds (after aaron intimidates them) - can he connect the dots between this and his own behavior? will he???

charlie really said improvise adapt overcome 💪

I know someone on tumblr is keeping a piss count so what are we at as of this episode? cause we’ve had dee needing to go number one and now gritty smh 🤦

the whole gritty thing is so surreal it’s almost dreamlike to me. did mac really make a mistake or is he just fucking with dennis? is this just for laughs? because it is funny but it’s just SO strange. like I get that it’s probably meant to evoke the world series defense episode but that had context… this is just so random. I guess maybe gritty was there as like a promotional thing in conjunction with dos hombres? maybe I’m overthinking this lol does anyone have any thoughts??

dennis needed that bonk on the head SO bad!!!!!!!!!!!!!

him just touching mac’s breast…

mac and dennis come into the plane mid-bicker and frank and dee stare at them. god gay people are so annoying

“I think you’re in an abusive relationship” I enjoy this way mac has of talking in more recent seasons where he’s actually pretty good at observing certain dynamics but seems to have this clarity around it that is very selective. “he keeps making homophobic jokes” “this is so distasteful” “I can’t engage with you on this right now” 

“you really should do drama, I think you’ve got the goods” something about the seeming non-sequitur between each show (mitm and bb) and how bryan does in fact have the range, and maybe sunny has the range? something about the blend, something about dee being minimized almost completely out of existence, something about the idea that people can consciously choose to stay in a fucked up relationship because they want to, because they also get something out of it, because they hold more power than they may seem to. much to think about

[flowercrown-bard]

I am once again pissed at diet culture. I just watched three tiktoks in a row. how to cook dairyfree. How to meal prep without carbs. How to make healthy snacks without sugar. I keep getting (and stupidly clicking on) those articles that are like "ten things you shouldn't eat if you want to lose weight" and "why xy foods are bad for you" and wouldn't you know it last week i got recommendated articles that said those specific foods were super healthy and great for weight loss and now i should "never eat" them?? Is there any food we're still allowed to eat without being made to feel guilty?