I Love (fucking Hate) Being Transgender Because Yes I Am Trans. Yes Queer. Tis I The Tranny. I Use She

worrying is like worshipping the problem

chat we found it. the holy grail Dick Grayson headcannons

~~Dick Grayson headcannons~~

•about 6’2-6’3 in height

•he’s shorter than Jason and Bruce

•adhd personified

•dyslexic

•the bluest freaking eyes ever

•his mother is Latina and his father is Romanian, so he speaks both Romanian and Spanish

•was raised to believe in God, never specified which religion, he was taught both Christianity and Catholicism

•sunshine boy

•the mother of every friend group

•he’s forever banned from the kitchen due to the pie incident (ask Alfred)

•can’t sit still for nothing

•this mf has no spine. He can bend any way and can do any sort of gymnastics

•more on the lean side than muscular

•he learned Arabic for Damian to make him feel more welcome

•wears his heart on his sleeve

•theater kid 100% he’s the most dramatic human ever

•loves animals

•absolutely terrified of spiders

•he screams then has someone else come kill it

•banned from drinking energy drinks/coffee bc the last thing he needs is to be more hyper

•the homework helper

•refers to anyone younger than him as a kid

•calls the others children

•dad jokes everywhere

•screams when he doesn’t win dress to impress

•gets noise complains all the time

•has been duct taped to the ceiling (*cough* Jason *cough*)

•Disney princess

•sings in the shower (more like screams)

•Damian’s new mother

•pop culture reference king

•loves Sabrina carpenter and Olivia Rodrigo

•dresses up for every holiday

•ABBA’s #1 fan

•forever hanging upside down from the chandelier (Alfred makes him dust while he’s up there)

•very expressive person

•strawberry cheesecake is his favorite desert

•makes friendship bracelets for the batfam (they don’t wear them but cherish them, don’t let dick know)

•titanic is his favorite movie, always cries during it

•everyone’s therapist

•the entire league can come to him with anything and he’ll be there with a box of tissues and chocolates

•stocks up on period supplies for the girls

•loves the Barbie movie

•wears pick bunny slippers around the manor

•snatched waist

•he’s a very pretty man

•indirectly cusses (ex: son of a biscuit, for shreks sake, you’re such a lint licker)

•always smiling

•looks like a cinnamon roll but can kill yoy but won’t because he’s too much of a cinnamon roll

•reads diary of a wimpy kid

•collects squish mellows

Lmk if I missed anything

My straight conservative vaugely homophobic stepmom v my explaination of alternative diy culture in relation to queerness and flagging. She got so confused she had to go look around target and come back??

I have a love for submissive men but I am also very submissive so it doesn’t work out well :(

warnings: mmm minor spoilers BUT if you’ve seen marvel’s social media accounts as of late, the posters/asterick reveal specifically, you already know. oh and drug mention and very light mental health issues

a/n: cant wait for higher quality gifs……

not requested

Bob nervously stood in the frame of your door with a hairbrush clutched between both his hands. He stared down at the ground with his long curls blocking his view of you ever so slightly, then cleared his throat just loud enough to announce his presence. “Y/N?” He shuffled his feet timidly and you looked up from your laptop, working up new logos and team names just in case Sam Wilson actually did file for copyright.

“Yeah?” You gave him a soft expression to assure him he wasn’t disturbing you, a small curl of your lips to put him at ease. His body language was…typical, but starting to ease up day by day. He was making progress. You looked him up and down and noticed what was he held in his hands.

“Could you…help me brush my hair?” Bob’s voice was low and somewhat rough. You could see his hair was a little bit messy, but no different than usual. “It’s hard sometimes. I’m tired.” He tried to explain and you patted the space next to you on your bed, welcoming to sit beside you. “Thank you.”

You took the brush from his hand, but before beginning with the tool provided, you started with your fingers. Your nails against his scalp calmed him more than any drug he’d ever gotten his hands on. You gently worked out any knots that may have otherwise got caught in the bristles of the hairbrush and hurt him. Bob’s eyes had been closed a few minutes now, his thoughts at ease, and a weight lifted from his shoulders. Once you saw fit, you took the brush and began slowly pulling it through his brown curls. Bob asking for help was a step in the right direction, and you felt content that he asked you. Made you feel like you were heading in the right direction, too.

taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @summersimmerus // @prettysbliss // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @beth-gallagher22 // @sk1bidi-n1k0-e4ts-people // @deanzboyfriend // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

Gimme my cigs (I don’t smoke cigarettes I smoke sage :p) (someone get me a blunt tho pls)

Absolute cinema. Phoe if you see this no you didn’t

saw your bob post and decided to say my thoughts🙏

he’s definitely submissive (or at the very least, not dominant). i love the thought of him reaching out to hold readers hand when he’s getting overwhelmed, pretty whimpers leaving his mouth as they play w his dick🤤 also imagining him desperate to suck on ur tongue as he dry humps ur thigh—

okay i’ll chill out now but gahdayum he is FINE😛

These can combined I think 👀

But listen. I think for the first like, six months? Maybe the first year —he’s definitely not confident enough to be the one that makes any kind of move. I don’t want to give him a label as dominate or submissive because they just…don’t work for him. He’s a broken guy —he’s healing, he’s being helped —but it’s hard. Smut below the cut:

He would, however, crave physical touch. Especially because he’s so scared that if he touches anyone, they’ll be trapped a shame room and he doesn’t wish that on anyone.

He especially doesn’t want that to happen to you.

But you’re patient, and kind. And you don’t seem to mind that he’s always as close as he can be without actually touching you (he has no sense of personal space, which annoys everyone except you, Yelena and Alexei. The others will politely remind him to step away just a bit, and he’s totally okay with that).

Bob likes his little book nook, but he also likes your room. It’s warmly lit, and smells good, and it just feels like a welcoming place. So if he’s not in his corner, he’s usually sitting on the floor of your room, reading, while you lay in bed and scroll through your phone.

His back aches, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s fine where he’s at, and he doesn’t want to get up and leave. Or disrupt the serene quiet of your room. But he shifts, and his back cracks and he lets out a groan.

You roll over onto your stomach and look down at him, brow raised. “You good?”

He nods frantically, apologizing for being loud. But you wave it off. “You don’t have to sit on the floor, you know. You can come sit on the bed. I won’t bite unless you ask.”

He flushes at the comment, looking down for a moment. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t fantasized about you putting your lips on him —but he knew better than to act on anything. It just…it wasn’t safe.

You pat the bed, drawing his attention again, and he stands up with his book. You scoot over, closer to the wall, and smile up at him patiently. Bob swallows hard and slips into your bed, brushing against you just barely. Even that touch —barely there, barely anything —sends a shiver through him. It had been so long since he was close to someone.

Yeah, the team had hugged him when they stopped Void. But that was a safety kind of thing. And it was nice, but he was scared of dying at that point. There was a difference between safety touching and intimacy and he…he really wanted that. With you.

The comfortable silence takes over again, and after a while you both end up engrossed in your own activities. Bob is focused on his book —sort of. Every time you move or adjusted your position, you got slightly closer. Touched him a little more. And he was distracted by thoughts of how you would feel on top of him. Not even in a sexual way; just…your weight, pressed against him, safe and close.

He freezes when your head falls to his shoulder. Nothing bad happens —no shame spirals, no nightmares. But you’re asleep, phone loosely sitting in your hand, and he considers if he should wake you up. But the selfish part of him —the touch starved part —decides to let you lay against him.

Though you adjust again, and push yourself further down into your pillows. Bob doesn’t want you to move but lets you do whatever you want to be comfortable. Except your cheek presses against his thigh, your head finding itself in his lap.

He panics. You’re so close. So warm. And he doesn’t know what to do with his book because it was in his lap but now you are. So he sets it down, folding his hands over his chest because he doesn’t know what to do. You’re actually asleep —breathing soft and even —and he really doesn’t want to wake you up.

So cautiously, he rests a hand on your back. When you don’t stir, he draws circles into your T-shirt in a way he hopes is soothing. His other hand plays with a strand of your hair, trying to keep himself from panicking. He worries you can hear how hard his heart is beating, because he’s pretty sure it’s going to explode out of his chest at any moment. But you don’t wake, and you both lay there for a long time.

He loses track of time; enough so that he’s starting to doze off himself. But you adjust again, just barely, and your hand rests under your cheek on his thigh and he almost jolts up from the touch.

You’re asleep. You’re not…you’re not purposely trying to touch him like this, he knows that, but he can’t help it. You’re so close, and so warm, and nothing bad has happened since you fell asleep. His head falls back into your pillows, trying to think of anything besides how close your hand and mouth are to his cock, but even trying to think about other things leads back to that thought, and there’s nothing he can do but try to adjust away the hard on he’s sporting.

Maybe he can slip a pillow into his lap. Then you have something to lay on and something to hide in case you wake up. But when he moves to take a pillow from behind him, you stir snd yawn. And then he really panics because he knows you’re awake —hyperaware of your eyelashes brushing against his leg as you blink away sleep.

“Oh,” you yawn, though you don’t move away from him. Actually, he swears to god, you move your hand even closer. “I’m sorry —I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”

“It’s uh, it’s totally fine,” he practically whimpers, swallowing hard. Shaking his head. “Not your fault.”

“I think this is though,” you murmur, brushing your hand just barely over the bulge in his sweats. Bob buckles, his fingers tangling into your shirt as you glance up at him. “Do you…can I help you out?”

“God, please,” he begs, nodding frantically as you slowly run your hand over his clothed cock. He’s breathing hard, and he probably sounds like an idiot. But he can’t help it. Even through his clothes, your touch is soft and enticing and he just. He wants more. But he can’t bring himself to ask. “Anything. Please, you can —anything.”

“Don’t say that,” you laugh softly, sitting up some to look up at him. Your hand dances along the edge of his waist band. “‘Anything’ is a lot of power.”

“Anything,” he insists, lower stomach contracting some as your fingers slip under and against his skin.

But your touch is gone too soon, and he whines as he opens his eyes. You haven’t gone far —actually, on the contrary. You’re sitting up on your knees and straddling his lap. Just like he’d imagined before —your weight pressed against his body was wonderful. He’s hesitant to touch you, afraid he’ll do something wrong, but you take hands and hold them against your hips.

“You’re allowed to touch me, Bob,” you promise, letting go of his hands. He cautiously squeezes your hips as you reach up to take his face in your hands. “Can I kiss you?”

“God, yes. Please,” he pleads, and without thinking about it, he’s pulling you in by your hips as you close the distance between you both.

He doesn’t care if he’s coming off as desperate or pathetic. Your mouth on his is even better than he could have imagined. Your hands in his hair could have been heaven. But when you press yourself down into his clothed cock, he whimpers. He feels your smile against his mouth, and you press down harder and grind yourself against him. He opens his mouth and pushes his hips up to meet yours, and you take full advantage of his open mouth to slide your tongue against his.

Bob wants to melt into your touch. Your hands tugging at his hair, your teeth nipping at his lips, and your body pressing against his —he’s not even sure when it happens, because he’s too focused on every little touch. But he groans, holding you tight by your hips against him as he cums in his pants.

“Oh god,” he sighs, pressing his forehead into your shoulder. He’s shaking and he doesn’t know if it’s from all of this or embarrassment. “I’m —shit, I’m sorry —I didn’t —,”

But you’re grinning at him, pressed against him still, but your hand is running through his hair. “It’s okay. That’s what I wanted.”

He pulls back, looking up at you and the teasing grin on your face.

Yeah. You could do whatever you wanted to him and he’d thank you for it, he decides in that moment.

Apparently we’re “going to the beach” uhm. Can we not?

First time watching twd and OH MY GOD?? LORI DIED??? IM ABT TO CRY WATCHING CARLS LIL FACE AFTER HE PUTS HER DOWN 😭😭😭

I love being silly and existing.

Like I go by many names and I’m all of them.

I’m Tala.

My full name is Tala Silas

I’m bear and redd and tank and boots and bad and every other dumbass name I’ve ever been given. I’m everything I ever have been