#rag jay

[deadb3at08]

Oc stuff for the day

[victusinveritas]

by Jay Kell

[birdiedoesdc]

N.J.S.A. 39:3-10

“Jason,” Dick says, with extreme gentleness. “You do…know what a turn signal is right?”

“Totally,” Jason lies.

***

Jason Todd breaks some laws. No, not those ones. No, not those ones either.

(for day 1 of @jasontoddweek2025, using the prompt drive)

[splooosh]

“nobody knows”

Rags Morales

[dailyjsa]

The Flash v1 #229

Writer: Cary Bates

Artist: Irv Novick

Inker: Frank McLaughlin

[fishybehavior]

Some new gi designs for Jay I've been doodling

[tofangirlonly]

I love the tappy tap tap in La Dee Dah With You because I get to think about Jeremy dancing and then I get to think about him almost falling over.

[sanitizarium]

man splatoon 3 has been out for almost 2 years and i am still not used to calling agent 3 captain... u will forever be agent 3 to me you are not responsible enough for a position of power </3

[acmeoop]

Crusader Rabbit Scene Cel (1971)

[ahalliance]

why is etoiles saying he wish he could eat mynthos in his chat

[thesmellofrain43]

Frightrags is bringing out a WNUF Halloween special t shirt line.

One for me and Jay, I was so happy to find out that he likes this movie as well, it's so underrated

[charlieism]

i am a lover and defender of weird, unusual, ugly and frightening creatures, and as an ecologist i respect them and their role in the ecosystem, however i am deeply instinctually terrified of spiders and their creepy legs, therefore

[dailyjsa]

The Flash v1 #229

Writer: Cary Bates

Artist: Irv Novick

Inker: Frank McLaughlin

[bleedingmolars]

jaybird threw up and i didnt realise until i stepped in it and walked all over my bedroom 😓 guess im mopping tomorrow

[mostly-imagines]

The Morning After The Venus Drug

You wake to an ache that runs straight through your muscles and into your bones. Your eyelids feel weighted as you try to blink yourself to consciousness, the fabric of the pillowcase an unexpectedly tough barrier.

You lay on your stomach, bed sheets pooling around your waist. You recognize the weight of Jason’s arm over you before you see him, hair tousled and face scrunched up against your same pillow.

His cheeks are flushed pink and he’s still perspired, but he looks peaceful. You press the back of your hand to his forehead, frowning at the heat you’re met with.

You try your hardest to unwrap his arm from around your torso without waking him, an action that requires far more energy than you were hoping to capitulate to. But that movement turns out to be nothing compared to the ache felt when you try to move your legs.

A slight shift has you immediately stilling, the soreness between your legs proving to be more severe than anticipated. You stifle a groan, slowly pushing yourself to sit up. You have to take a moment to rest your muscles as your legs hang limp over the side of the bed.

Your legs are shaky and unstable as you try to stand and you nearly fall back onto the bed. You need a few practice steps before you’re able to pick up any actual pace towards the door.

You sit on the side of the tub while you clean yourself up, the skin of your thighs almost too tender to bear the ruggedness of the rag. You can��t be sure of how many rounds you went last night, but if you’re in this kind of shape, he must be worse off.

On your way to toss the used cloth in favor of a new one, a glance in the mirror has you double-taking. The hickies scattered across your neck and collarbone are blossoming dark and to be expected. However, the sight of bruises littered across your waist and hips draw some extra attention. They don’t hurt, really, the marks mostly bring forth warm feelings.

But you know that Jason won’t feel the same upon discovering them, so you figure it's best to cover them up for now.

You quietly shuffle through the bedroom drawers and pull out one of his gray shirts that’s even a little big on him. It drowns you out, more than enough to cover your rembrandts from last night.

The floorboards creak as you make your way to the kitchen, steps stiff and awkward. The warm orange light flowing in from the living room curtains is soothing, if not far too bright.

With a restrained pull, you pop the fridge open, careful not to let the unseal make too much noise. You collect a bottle of water and dampen the extra rag with cool water from the faucet.

You tiptoe back to the bedroom, supplies in hand. The mattress springs squeak slightly as your weight returns to them.

One hand comes to rest on Jason’s back as water from the washcloth drips down your other arm. “Hey,” you trace nonsense patterns into his skin, hoping the sensation will be enough to rouse him like it usually is.

But he doesn’t so much as stir, still breathing deeply. “Jay?” you shake him lightly, “You gotta wake up, baby.”

His eyes squeeze shut harder and a groan reverberates from deep in his throat. “Fuck…”

“Hey pretty boy,” you murmur, brushing his hair back. His face burrows further into the pillow as his hand comes up to blindly search for your thigh, kneading your skin once he finds you. “How you feel?”

“Like I got hit by a train,” he croaks, turning his head hesitantly into the light to look at you. He squints as he takes in the sight of you, slowly shifting onto his back. “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head tenderly, “Just sore.” You hold the water out to him, “Here.”

He looks at the water, then back to you. You huff, “Just drink it. I’ll have some after.”

He perches himself up on his elbow, taking the bottle from your hand with a pout. He chugs down three gulps before pushing the drink back in your hands expectantly. You feel his eyes on you as you take your own sips, only moving to sit up completely when he’s satisfied with your hydration.

He grunts as he adjusts his muscles to the new position, holding a hand out. “Lemme see you.”

“I’m alright,” you tell him, trying to mitigate his worry before it begins.

But his face only sterns, voice becoming serious. “Then let me see you.”

You’re ready to argue more to save him from the sure-to-come guilt, but he tugs your shirt up anyway, blinking a few times to get a clearer look at your skin.

Delicate hands come to hold you by the sides of your ribs, nudging you this way and that to examine the bruises littered across your skin. “Oh fuck, baby..”

He leans in close, running featherlight touches over the marks. “I don’t…” his chest drops, “I don’t remember doing that.”

You nod in understanding, taking his hands in yours and pulling them away from your body. “They don’t hurt. I like seeing them.”

He peers up at you skeptically and you nod again. “I like them. A lot. I like anything you give me.”

He closes his eyes and drops his head, “I should give you nicer things. Less painful.”

You gently push his face up to look at yours, keeping hold of his cheeks. “You do give me nice things,” you tell him before pressing a slow kiss to his lips. You rest your forehead against his, “But I like the rougher things too. Especially when I get them while you’re feeling good.”

His hands cover yours, moving them back down and turning them so he can hold them properly. “You’re okay?”

“I’m better than okay. Can guarantee I’m feeling better than you are anyways.” You pull back, scanning over his flushed face. You pick up the rag from your now considerably wet thigh, dabbing his forehead with it. “You look overheated.”

He relaxes a bit against the coolness, “Yeah, the effects of the toxin take a little while to wear all the way off. It’s not so bad anymore though.”

You nudge him to lay back down, draping the cloth over his head. He looks over you fondly as you lay a light kiss on his collarbone before tucking yourself into his side with closed eyes.

[righthandedleftturn]

The Golden Age Flash (Jay Garrick) vs. his Rogues Gallery