#i just love this idea lol

[jasontoddspussy]

Lazarus pit AU... thing

AU where the lazarus pit effects include hunger for raw meat/flesh, particularly human flesh.

Ras doesn't have an issue with this and feasts upon corpses often to satiate his hunger. Talia is more of a refined palette. Damian, after his dip, is very bothered by this need beneath his skin and later on became a vegetarian. The 'Al Ghul' name is because of this.

Jason, after his dip, experience extreme hunger due to his previous lifestyle and malnourishment. During fights when he was still fresh outta the green goo pit, he frequently tore off flesh from other trainees. Later on he's muzzled. The only one who knows about this at first is Damian.

Due to this, Jason's red hood ensemble (here im thinking of the mask domino combo not the helmet) is a red muzzle instead of half mask. On days where he feels the hunger most, he's wearing the muzzle. Only Damian knows the significance of this and is, to the surprise of the bats, protective of Jay on these days.

During the Titans Tower attack, Jason's mind is engulfed in green and anger with his throat slit and bleeding, and thus when beating on Tim he loses control, tearing and eating flesh from his shoulder and neck junction to speed up the healing of his throat. This causes Jason to never take off the muzzle when near the bats. Damian is the only one who realised what happened later on when he sees the scars. Everyone else, whenever Jason is at the cave years later, keeps hounding him to take off his mask. When Tim asks, Jason and him gets into an argument because why in the world would Tim want Jason to be near him, especially without a muzzle!?

Tim's just like ''tim is like 'first of all you had just had your throat slit and the pit madness came back, second of all id let you do it again without the pit madness'"

n jasons just like jesus freaking christ where is your self preservation instincts im calling dick and kinkshaming you because what-

(last two parts courtesy of my friend arson thst i had to include bcs yeah. tim would)

[artsymeeshee]

Was in the middle of drawing hugs (which will be posted eventually) when I got hit by an idea that had Stan ending up in the hospital and Ford being an absolute emotional wreck (as expected). No backstory on what happened with Stan but drew up ideas while they’re in the hospital. They’re both ok after everything (cuz duh, this is me we’re talking about lol)

DON’T tag as ship :T

[mroddmod]

one of the very few to show the batch kindness back on kamino

[exxcidio]

getting ready

[mienar]

small town buzz

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[ionlydrinkhotwater]

See one of the unrealized beautiful things about Jean and Neil's friendship is that the more they hang out, the more their boyfriends have to hang out, too. Andrew and Jeremy actually have a lot of potential as friends, Andrew actually likes nice people, i think Jeremy is capable of getting Andrew to talk with him, they are both blonde Californians with dark taste in partners, they hate cops, they have weird relationships with their siblings, but they take mental health seriously, and they dont make Exy their whole personality. While Jean and Neil are having a complicated crime filled lovehate, "we are brothers from the same messed up family" friendship. Jeremy and Andrew could actually develop a really nice, uncomplicated friendship where they babysit the others' bf when they are in town.

[tapeworrmart]

What if James was always onimously soaked through as a nod to his ending

[soosoosoup]

Oh Funk Branch Au by @bbc-trolls, I never stopped loving you

[sysig]

Permission to headbutt: Granted (Patreon)

[danrifics]

sharing <3

[strawberri-draws]

OTGW studies to prepare for a possible animatic :]

[chiscribbs]

I had an idea for a one-off Rise episode plot and just wanted to quickly sketch up some visuals for it.

The plot goes as follows: Donnie attempts to invent a cloning machine and, due to some kind of science-y mishap, ends up cloning himself...a lot. But there's a catch to this - the clones aren't exact copies of Donnie, they each possess just ONE of the various facets of his personality (i.e. brainy, broody, sarcastic, passionate, dramatic, mischievous, etc.) and a small portion of his mystic powers. Don tries his darnedest to keep the whole situation under wraps while he searches for a way to fix it, but some of the more rambunctious Donnies quickly escape and begin stirring up trouble in the Lair, so it doesn't stay a secret for very long. To make matters worse - the real Donnie starts to slowly disappear (something having to do with his existence being divided among the Donnies or blahblahblah fake science explanation). So, while he and the scientist Donnies continue to look for a way to reverse the cloning effect, his brothers and Co. set to work gathering up all the other Donnies so they can put them back where they belong and keep Donnie Prime™ from vanishing.

Hilarity, wholesomeness (and some mild angst) ensues.

(Note: I meant to include April in that second-to-last image, but ran out of room. Just know that she, Splinter, and probably Casey Jr. are all there, as well.)

[choccy-milky]

modern AU seb and clora's first interaction 📘📗 (and by modern AU i actually mean super trope-filled high school romance set in the 80's/90's LOL)

[itsthislake]

“The Summer Day” by Mary Oliver.

HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY ACE!!

Support me on ko-fi! ♥

[capquinn]

Sunday | Q. Hughes

summary: A lazy Sunday morning... pairing: reader x quinn hughes content: nothing but tooth rotting fluff word count: 1k ↪masterlist

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

“You’re staring,” he murmurs, his voice low and a little raspy from sleep, but there’s a hint of amusement in it.

A smile tugs at your lips as your fingers brush a stray lock of hair away from his forehead. “Just admiring."

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The morning light slips through the blinds, casting soft, golden stripes across the room. It dances on the walls, wrapping you both in a warm, quiet glow. It’s the kind of light that only comes in the last days of summer, when the air feels just a bit cooler in the mornings, but the days still stretch long into the evening. There’s something almost ethereal about the way it floods the space, filling every corner with a peaceful stillness.

You’re both wrapped in the tangled mess of white sheets, limbs entwined. Quinn's chest rises and falls in a slow, steady rhythm, the gentle warmth of his skin brushing against yours. The world beyond the window might as well not exist; here, in the cocoon of soft linens and golden light, it’s just the two of you, wrapped in the last days of lazy summer, sheltered from the chaos of life outside.

You glance up at Quinn, his face half-buried in the pillow, hair slightly tousled and falling in soft strands across his forehead. The sunlight dances on his face, illuminating the faint freckles scattered across his nose. His expression is soft, radiating the kind of peacefulness that only comes when you know you don’t have to be anywhere else but here. His eyes are still heavy with sleep, lashes casting gentle shadows on his cheeks, but there’s a contentedness in the way he looks at you and a lazy, easy smile playing at the corners of his lips that makes your heart flutter.

You shift a little closer, pressing your cheek against the pillow and propping yourself up slightly on your elbow. Your hand moves instinctively, fingers tracing the outline of his jaw, feeling the slight roughness of stubble that’s grown in over the weekend. He leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed briefly before opening again, meeting yours in that sleepy, comfortable silence.

“You’re staring,” he murmurs, his voice low and a little raspy from sleep, but there’s a hint of amusement in it.

A smile tugs at your lips as your fingers brush a stray lock of hair away from his forehead. “Just admiring."

His brows quirk, but he doesn’t say anything, just watches you with a curious gaze. The warmth of his eyes pulls you in like it always does, the mix of green and hazel almost impossible to decipher. They’re mesmerizing... The way the morning light catches in his irises, turning the hues of green and hazel into something almost magical. They shift with the light, as if the exact colour of them depends on where you’re standing, or how close you are.

Luckily, you’re the only one who gets to see them this closely.

That thought makes your heart swell. This quiet intimacy between the two of you, tucked away from the world in the soft glow of the morning. His eyes, those incredible, ever-changing eyes, are just for you in this moment. A warmth blooms in your chest, a sense of comfort and belonging that’s almost overwhelming in its simplicity.

“You have such pretty eyes,” you say softly, the words slipping out without much thought.

A faint blush creeps across Quinn’s cheeks, and he shifts slightly under the covers, glancing away for just a second. His reaction is almost bashful, as if no one’s ever said something like that to him before.

Quinn opens his mouth to respond, but then closes it again, a soft chuckle escaping him instead. His cheeks flush a deeper pink, and he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

“Stop,” he mumbles, his voice muffled, laced with that shy, nervous laughter. His arms tighten around you, pulling you closer until you’re pressed up against him.

You laugh lightly, brushing your fingers through his messy hair as you feel the heat of embarrassment radiating off him. “I’m serious,” you whisper, leaning in just a little, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. “They’re like... impossible to figure out. Sometimes they look green, sometimes hazel... So pretty.”

He groans softly in protest, his face still buried against your neck. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m really not,” you insist, your voice playful, trying to keep the moment light. You feel the soft rumble of his laughter against your chest, his body vibrating with the sound. “They’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

His breath hitches slightly at the words, and for a moment, he just stays there, his face hidden in the curve of your neck, as if he’s too shy to even look at you. But then he shifts, lifting his head just enough to press a soft kiss against your collarbone. His lips linger there for a second longer than usual, his lips warm and tender against your skin, as if he’s gathering the courage to speak.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me before,” he admits quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smile, your heart swelling at the softness of his confession. “Well, then they’ve clearly never looked at you the way I do.”

He glances up at you finally, his eyes catching the light again, and for a second, neither of you say anything. There’s no need to. The moment is so simple, so mundane in the grand scheme of things, and yet it feels like the most intimate thing in the world. Just you, him, and the quiet of a lazy summer morning.

Quinn’s lips curve into a small, shy smile, his face still flushed as he leans down to press his forehead against yours. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Maybe,” you murmur back, your fingers brushing lightly over his arm. “But I’m right.”

He laughs again, this time a little more freely, and pulls you closer into him until your legs are tangled together beneath the sheets once more. There’s no rush to move, no urgency to do anything but just be. You have this one last weekend together before everything picks up again — work, hockey, life — and for now, that’s more than enough.