#do i love this idea? yes

[unsteady-calcium]

Since you put that on your ass...I'm asking about your bones dinosaur au

Thank youuuuuuu <3

The Life in the Fossils

The last true refuge of dinosaurs anywhere on earth, Isla Sorna is in dire straights. Head Ranger Seeley Booth has spent the last five years protecting the islands and animals that he loves, and has been forced to watch as funding has dwindled and public interest has failed. Now billionaires and poachers alike are closing in.

In a last ditch move, clearly more about scoring political points than any serious desire to save the dinosaurs, the government sends in Dr. Temperance Brennan, renowed paleontologist, and her team of crack scientists to aid in the preservation of the fragile island ecosystem and establish a visitor's centre. Dr. Brennan, despite how passionate she is about dinosaurs, strongly resents being sent to what is undoubtably a project doomed to fail. But not as strongly as Booth resents the people sent to him to, as he sees it, open the island up to tourism.

Things are slow going, until a close call with a triceratops helps them establish an uneasy truce. After that, their partnership prospers, and the island with it. In a few short months, their combined efforts produces countless scientific articles, developes new methods of conservation, and reignites media interest in the island and the animals that call it home. Booth and Brennan's tentative truce grows to a deep trust and understanding, and maybe to something more.

The billionairs who thought they were days away from buying the island are left on their yachts to stew.

That is, until a bushfire catches Booth and Brennan unaware while they are out on a survey. Will they escape the flames and make it back to camp? Will the team get the flames under control in time to save the island? Will they discover if the fire started naturally, or if something more sinister is going on? And what else might Booth and Brennan learn, about themselves and about the island, along the way?

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Trapped in a vicious cycle of pining? Try gay sex! (More things to learn over at Tiger Tiger!)

[kyuyua]

My cyberpunky Joel design 🌸

Seven Holy Nights of Jeremy (Joel Week) Day 4: Diverging Paths

[deep-space-lines]

okay but like. I just had the weirdest thought about that ‘don’t look I’m naked’ comic. Which is that that’s essentially the same thing Adam and Eve did after they ate the fruit of knowledge of good&evil. So I feel like the theological implications of that could kneecap Gabe if he doesn’t think V1 is a being with free will.

yeah ok. i dunno man. is this anything

((side note. this isn’t necessarily meant to be in-character or story-accurate or take place at any particular point in time, just a way to explore some Thoughts. i was also imagining more that V1’s words aren't actually spoken, more like Gabriel’s more articulate interpretation of whatever garbled mechanical noise V1 is using to communicate. I think an angel could do that.))

and then they fucked nasty the end

[jinxs-gf]

Your Mom | Jinx x Fem!Reader & Isha

You’re conjuring up a plan with the precious little girl next to you. A plan of attack (code for ‘surprise for Jinx’). No special occasion, just something Isha wants to do for her. It’s sweet, and so you agreed immediately.

“We coouuuld lure her in with…well I don’t know, candy? Where would we get candy…” you ponder your own question for a second while Isha stares, observing you.

“ooh! And we’ll be hiding behind the couch and scare her when she gets close enough! Only then will we give her the gift.” You nod at yourself approvingly, convinced it was a good idea.

Isha side eyes you though, her judgment clear as day. The words that’s stupid written clearly on her tiny face.

She signs ‘that’s dumb’ as if you couldn’t already tell that’s what she was thinking. You’re offended still, seeking a way to defend yourself. You use the age old argument.

“Your mom is dumb.”

Isha’s eyes widen at your statement.

She points at you, head tilted and giving a confused look. As if to say but you’re my mom…then shakes her head and let’s out an exasperated sigh, rolling her eyes. Never mind, her dismissal says.

The attitude on this kid. Wonder who she got that from…(Jinx).

“Whatever. Got a better idea?”

She gives a small nod, making an excited noise.

“Wow. You’re soooo much smarter than me, aren’t you, kid?”

She nods enthusiastically this time, a big toothy smile on her face.

Ah. And she loves to make fun of you, just like Jinx.

“Whaaaat are you two doing?” A second voice causes the two of you to jump. Jinx, with her hands on her hips, stares expectantly.

Isha immediately relays your plan to her. I thought this was supposed to be a surprise?

“Ha! Definitely not your brightest moment, toots. Though I don’t recall you ever actually having a good idea…” Jinx teases, pointer finger tapping her chin, as if deep in thought. Isha laughs with her.

Like mother like daughter.

[thapunqueen]

SO I SADDLE UP MY HORSE AND I RIDE INTO THE CITAAYY !!!!!

[starry-bi-sky]

do yall ever think about bruce/batman!clone danny standing in front of his bathroom mirror after finding out he was a clone and silently tracing his face. The slope of his jaw and point of his chin. The high angle of his cheekbones and the shape of his eyes, the curve of his brow bones and the shape of his nose. The volume of his hair and the way it curls and gets fluffy when it gets too long.

His hair is black the same way a crow's wing is black. His dad's hair is black the same way a black bear's fur is black. His dad's eyes are blue like the ocean is blue. Danny's eyes are blue the same way a glacier is blue.

His dad has a square jaw and straight flat hair, and he tans and gets a face full of freckles when he's out in the sun for too long. Danny burns like a lobster and his face remains untouched. Danny has a sharp jaw and tall cheekbones, and Sam says when he's not smiling there's almost something regal about him. You would never call Jack Fenton "regal" when he's not smiling.

Sam says when he's not smiling he looks scary the same way a stone statue is. Jack Fenton when he's not smiling looks scary the same way that german shepherd staring at you across the street is.

Do you ever think he grew up wondering if he was adopted. Because of course, he has black hair and blue eyes like his dad. But having the same color doesn't make you someone's child.

Or, worse, things he's heard from the other kids and the other parents and even some of his teachers growing up; that he was the product of an affair. And that his dad was just too stupid to notice. And Danny would defend his parents until the day he died, because Jack Fenton wasn't an idiot and Maddie Fenton wasn't a cheater.

But doubt comes in with fickle tongue. his parents swear up and down that he is their child when he asks about either. That Danny just had his grandparents' features, but he was their son and they loved him.

But Danny doesn't look like either of his parents. His mom's eyes are blue like an aquamarine and Jazz's too. And they burn like lobsters in the sun too, but Jazz gets freckles on her face and so does Maddie. And as Danny grows up he doesn't bulk up or get stocky like his dad did, and when he hits puberty he doesn't shoot up like a tree like Jack Fenton did.

He stays small, and they say he's a late bloomer (and he is), or that he just has his mom's height. But he's fast and has good stamina, and some days it feels like he's built entirely different from his family. That the things they went through growing up just didn't apply to him. Jack and Maddie Fenton both had acne and breakouts when they hit puberty, and Jazz inherits it and he's seen the amount of skincare products she keeps on her side of the bathroom.

And then he hits puberty and breaks out maybe once or twice, but his skin stays clear for the most part and the problems and changes his dad went through just don't happen to him.

And the truth is worse than all of the lies.

How horrifying.

[splankie]

this machine kills.... uh.. this machine kills!

[bluerosefox]

Interrupted Naptime

New idea spawned.

Another, as if this brain rot hasn't fully taken over me for like the last year and a half, DPxDC.

Anyways.

Ghost King!Danny and/or VERY powerful Danny and/or Ancient of Space.

And deaged Dan and Danielle(Ellie) (plus Dad!Danny)

And a cult summoning!

So this really alarming and powerful cult is trying to summon a powerful ghost (aka Danny) to come give them power or destory or ensalve the world etc etc. Only thing is, they got the summoning wrong and instead get baby Ellie and toddler Dan.

Also they're in their human forms right now too.

No one is happy.

The cultists are upset and wondering what they did wrong, the JL and/or JLD are upset children, babies, are on the battlefield, and Dan isn't happy cause he was in the middle of coloring a spaceship in his coloring book and the people in the robes are getting louder and louder and going to wake up Ellie from her nap and Daddy just got her to sleep and-

Yep. Someone is yelling at them now and Ellie is awake from it.

And...

She starts crying from being woken up.

Not even a few seconds later, the sounds of this plane of reality being ripped opened is heard and the sudden frosty chill of ice is felt.

Along with an angry dad voice of.

"Who woke my daughter up from her nap?! I just got her to sleep!!"

[bunnieswithknives]

OK JUST A LITTLE THING BECAUSE IM INSANE @cubbihue

Song: Plastic by Cheekface

[transsophiedevereaux]

been rewatching s1 of leverage and it really hammers home how down bad hardison has been from the start. and it's not even the stupid flirting and telling parker she looks good in the bridesmaid dress.

when the team first gets together they don't really get parker. eliot calls her crazy about twice per episode, sophie clearly feels bad for her, and nate barely cares for anyone at this point. hardison, by contrast, always engages with her, answers her questions, listens to her concerns about the orphanages in the stork job, explains to her that they're a little more than a team, cheekily adresses her, while in character for the juror #6 job, just to make her smile. yes we all remember how parker stabbed the guy from the stork job with a fork, but also remember that, just moments before, while talking stone-faced to this guy she clearly loathes hardison managed to make her laugh with only a stupid vampire joke mocking the mark's accent. she thinks he's funny! they're in love your honour!!

[somegrumpynerd]

(Narrator voice) It was not how everyone felt

[dawnbreakerluna]

NOT WHEN IT COMES TO YOU (W. SYLUS QIN) wc. 1050. hurt/comfort. reader is the mc and experiences a panic attack. canon compliant to the l&ds story, no spoilers. character study-ish on the mental state of the mc. sylus is perceptive person and sees through the reader. non-established relationship. not proofread. side note: my writing program crashed after i pasted it to the tumblr draft. lol!

‘Does any of it matter anymore?’

You write those words in a pocket-sized journal every night. The very same one that’s tucked away in your drawer where an assortment of lingerie overfills and molds within one another. You have to do something, anything, to keep your body aware of its movement, its functionality and life.

Does any of it matter anymore?

You almost want to reach out to Zayne about it. To talk. To explain this stream of endless thoughts and the endless void of questioning your worth. Things haven’t been easy, to the point where you wonder if taking the Hunter Exam, valuing your worth on whether or not you passed, was worth it in the end. Not after everything you’ve found out. Not after everything you’ve witnessed and lost.

Now, you had bargained your life. A bold, risky step that required more trust than you could ever ask for. (You got it, regardless. You had nothing to fear in that aspect.)

“Does any of it matter anymore…?”

You ask yourself again, your voice a low whisper. You needed to make sure you were here, still. Some way, somehow. You were now shrouded by a blaring red sky and even darker red moon. Your gaze, holding faux grit, stares into a crimson gaze that looks over your sunken, kneeling form.

He wears a light curl of a smirk, lowering himself to you: “You should speak up, little Hunter. I can’t quite hear you.”

You push down that growing dread in an empty chest. But if it were empty, your heart wouldn’t be housed there, beating ferociously as you were face to face with the one who had answers you needed. If not all, at least some. The ones to point you in the right direction.

You call it going away in your own head—it’s what you do when you feel more than just your heart on the verge of giving out. It’s what you do when your fingers begin to twitch and tremble, your words struggling to come out. You don’t consider it freezing up completely, but a different sensation.

It’s just something you always dealt with on your own, always aware of.

The gentle flick of your fingers at your side gauges your knowledge of it happening again. Surrounded by desperate brokers and merchants; people with vile intentions and greed that isn’t a homely territory back in Linkon City.

You’re reminded why Onichynus thrives. Why Sylus wears the success and pride he does.

Despite his teachings intending to help you hold that same pride, you can’t. You realize too late in this room full of people who could eat you alive, you bit off more than you could chew. You remain by Sylus’ side as he indulges in the meaningless chatter of those who throw themselves at him with wretched desperation—but the room is beginning to feel hazy.

You know you should’ve arranged something. Some kind of signal to let him know you needed a breather.

This was more than a breather you needed. This was an emergency where you’re a glass sculpture, waiting and begging to be knocked over. You hated being made of glass, regrettably—hated being ogled at in that way. You feel it in the worst form now, being the guest of the most powerful man in the N109 Zone.

Your arm, securely wrapped around his bigger one, shifts back just slightly to tug at his sleeve. It’s not an obvious action, not even to the keen eye like yourself. But it’s enough that you feel the slight jerk, that startles him. To Sylus, this would be a disturbance as little of a fly on someone’s shoulder.

Yet, the air between you two shifts.

Sylus holds a hand up to the two men standing before you both, “Ah—you’ll have to excuse me, gentlemen. I just recalled that I am to assist the security detail with an issue. Please, do enjoy the rest of the evening.”

He leads you away without another word, brushing off the guests.

Vultures. Vultures. Vultures. Every single one of them.

You hold your breath in a subtle manner, your throat constricted. Sylus’ movement is swift and urgent at once, heading towards the back of the ballroom. He opens one of the double doors, ushering you out first before following closely.

It’s just you two now, in this empty, grandeur hall.

You felt sick. You wanted to die. You wanted every fiber of anguish to leave you be and never come back. You never wanted to feel anything again. You wanted to rip your heart out and burn it, to bleed out to death by its side—

—Does any of it matter anymore?

“Little Hunter,” Sylus’ smooth voice cuts through your clogged mind. His hand comes forward, knuckles gently brushing against your cheek, catching stray tears that roll down, “Just focus on me. You’re alright now.”

Oh.

Your eyes widen, your faint breath an overwhelming echo in your head as you come back to yourself. Never before had you seen his eyes so… fond. Gentle. Comforting. It makes you feel sick. You feel the need to lurch and throw up everything you’ve eaten.

Instead, your tears thicken. You blink a few times before lowering your head, pressing the back of your hand against your mouth as you pant heavily. Clawing through your throat is a string of sobs, your body tensing along with it.

Sylus reacts with instinct, his voice lowered as he gently shushed you. His arm wraps around your shoulders, pressing you into his strong torso. To hide you away from the world, to delicately hold your sorrows.

“You’re alright, Little Hunter.” He whispers into the top of your head, lips brushing softly against your hair, “I feel your shame, there’s no need to carry such a thing. I’m not upset.”

You hiccup, pulling away just enough to tilt your head back—looking up at him: “You’re… not?”

A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest. His fingers gently tuck strands of your hair behind your ear, offering you the most warmth he possibly can in this moment. Unfamiliar, but not unappreciated. You’re more grateful than anything, in spite of everything you two had rough edges about.

“Never,” he assures you with a smile. “Not when it comes to you.”

[erinwantstowrite]

Erin the comparison of JL vs the Avengers to Camp Jupiter vs Camp Half blood is toooo accurate 😭

JL: There’s an established system in place and contingencies for every foreseeable scenario

Avengers: fuck it we ball

peter thinks that the Avengers have it all together because they're his teachers and they're constantly telling him to use his brain but it's really because they, for the first time, saw their own "fuck it we ball" mentality in a teenager, and thought "oh my god maybe that is like... super dangerous." like when a parent was younger and they partied a lot and sometimes got into dangerous situations and thought "this is normal" until they had a kid and they quickly realized "oh that's why my mom was insane."

that didn't make them any better, it just made them hypocrites. peter just doesn't know that because they act super responsible when he's around

[willowser]

touya is halfway through his workday, grease up to his elbows, little jumpsuit half undone down to his waist, when iguchi comes in to tell him "someone's askin' for you out here".

he's not sure who it could be, but there's no telling, so he just decides to take a smoke break and wander out of the automotive garage, maybe imagining one of siblings out on the pavement.

but the minute he sees you, he stops. nearly drops his cigarette on a rough, "oh shit."

it's been a while since he's seen you, a year or two, and the packet of paper in your hand can only mean one, bullshit thing.

"nah, nah, nah, i ain't signing any papers," is how he greets you, shaking his head the minute you start up the path with a big, determined frown. touya doesn't run, but he sure twists on his heel and starts back up the path, too, as you start calling out his name.

practically all of his coworkers are watching when he comes back into view, not bothering to hide how nosy they're being. their audience makes you falter just a tad and touya clings onto it; anything to stop you.

"never a good sign when your wife comes to find you at work."

there's a long silence, from everyone. when he looks back at you—at your manilla folder and carefully stapled documents, your petition for divorce—your eyes are heavy and wet, almost the same way they were when the two of you stood in a courtroom, lying about your age in order to pledge until death do you part.

almost. now they're just sad.

from somewhere in the garage, toga calls out a bewildered, "you have a wife?" that makes him feel a way he can't understand, both amused and devastated all at once.

your wedding ring isn't on your finger, but if he stares long enough, he can maybe see the difference in color of your skin, a former tan-line that's begun to fade.

he sold his for stuff he shouldn't have been buying, stuff that ruined him and you and your marriage, a long time ago.

but touya only smiles, and calls back, "yeah, i do."

[ed-died688]

HELLO GUESSS WHAT

I MAY BE GOING CRAZY