Scavenger Hunting

This is what happens when basic cosplay is attempted. #enchantress #suicidesquad

You’re the villain and you know that, you just want the ‘good guys’ to understand why.

There were two huge cottonwood trees in my backyard growing up and now they're being removed

they're causing damage so they need to be removed but I'm just sad I have so many memories with those trees and now they're gone

"i'll remember the exact phrasing of the paragraph i just thought of for my fic when i get to my computer later, i don't need to write it down or put it in my notes app" this is the devil speaking

"I'm what the murderers look like" says the clown that frequently asks Uber drivers to take him to sketchy train yards

nothing is funnier than Catholics getting mad at Anglican priests for having sex lives

I both hold and love the idea that Chat can speak though Techno if he lets them, just a cacophony of voices spilling from his mouth, but to make it angsty they can also force themselves out of him if his willpower is weak. Like, if he gets extremely overwhelmed or exhausted, or if he’s in a deep enough sleep like hibernation sometimes you can hear the whispers of chat faintly surrounding him. Just imagine Techno after a battle, covered in wounds and blood that both is and isn’t his own, and someone safe finds him and he’s exhausted, on the brink of passing out even, and whoever finds him can hear voices that aren’t his own spilling from his mouth, demanding safety and for their stupid-beloved-hurt champion to be brought elsewhere, some demanding more blood while others call for rest.

YESSSS, love this one. I've seen it used very nicely in a few fics/art before, another headcanon I've always wanted to try my hand at.

ok can I b the love of someone's life now

Trigger Warning: blades, mild torture, injuries, and what amounts to suicidal thoughts and actions (he lives at the end but he does need a hell of a lot of therapy)

Tim shudders, as best he can while bleeding and bruised and broken.

The Red Hood is above him, mechanical voice melding into the raspy deeper tones of an Older Jason Todd. His voice is hollow and cruel as he digs his blade into Tim’s flesh. It hurts. But, Tim thinks dazedly, having Robin, Tim’s Robin, hating Tim hurts worse.

“Wow, Replacement, no last words for the person you stole everything away from?”

Jason’s mocking him.

“Okay.”

“What’s that, Replacement?”

Tim is so incredibly tired. And the blade held to his neck is starting to look like comfort. Tim thinks-

“My last words. You- You want to hear it?”

His hero’s face tilts, green eyes sparking something deep within Tim’s memory. But he’s so tired.

“Sure, let’s see what kind of recruitment pitch you’ve got for me, Replacement.”

Cruel. So cruel. Mocking him with false warmth. But false warmth is better than the coldness of Drake manor, the coldness of Bruce’s grieving form or Dick’s smile, sometimes when he thinks Tim’s not looking.

Ah, Tim knew it. His Robin will always be better than any other heroes, even if the false warmth makes his heart hurt worse than the broken ribs he’s now sporting. That Hood is pressing a knee down on to keep him immobile. Not that Tim could move anywhere considering both of his legs are broken. Tim wonders what it is about him that makes it impossible for people to muster up warmth towards.

“Do you know why… why heroes are so… so loved?” He wheezes out. He doesn’t wait for a response from Hood. “It’s because… they choose good- they choose to better the world- to save people, even if… even if they weren’t saved themselves. No matter how much- the obstacles, there’s always, an obstacle. But they try anyways.” Tim has to wrap this up. He’s losing coherency. “It’s why… it’s why this is okay. You… you’re choosing to save… to save Gotham from the Joker. Ev’n if you weren’t saved yourself. You’re not… good. You kill.”

Red Hood- Jason, snarls. Tim, blinking slowly, admires the man’s green eyes. “That’s fucking right-”

“But, you can be. Y’re helping.” And because this is important, because Tim has an alter set up to mourn Jason, “You were my hero,” Tim says, and Jason stops short, expression blanking. “So. I’ll help- help remove an obstacle so… so you can keep helping. Helping people like… like me. Or, not like me. Something.”

With that, Tim summons the rest of his strength and presses his neck towards the blade, starting the process to slit his own throat.

Jason flings the knife away, expression crumbling in horror as he stares down at the child he just tortured.

And as Tim’s voice fades, as blood spills out of his neck, as Tim gives him time to retrieve the knife, Jason breaks.

Oh, Tim thinks. His eyes weren’t green. They’re supposed to be blue.

——

Jason sits beside the medical cot, the steady beeping of the heart monitor grounding him as he held two fingers on the kid’s- oh god, he’s a fucking kid, Todd, you monster- pulse.

Jason will grovel when Tim wakes up. Because he turned into the kid’s Joker and Willis and if there’s anything Jason won’t ever allow himself to turn into, it’d be those two. He crossed a line. If Tim wants him to rip his liver out and present it to him, Jason thinks he’d do it on the spot.

Fuck. He fucked up.

God the prices of tvs have changed so much let me get my graph