#; OOF

[yourbloody-caroline]

Did you not hear the part about how Matthew and I separated from Alex for two years and I was bright back by Cassius?

*in a local bar in the last hotel in Wayward *

@aaron-trainer

[anonyunknownonearth]

Tim, Damian & Jason: *having a petty argument becoming heated* Duke: *passing by* Duke: *sensing the argument for what it is* Duke: Ohhh hell no, I am not getting involved in whatever is going on there *quietly starts escaping* Dick: Hey Duke, what’s up! You finish patrol? Duke: *startled* AH! Dick: Oh sorry, did I scare you *chuckle* Duke: [Leaps up and claps hand over Dick’s mouth] Shhhhh! Dick: *confused mumbling* Jason: *calls out* Hey, Duke is that you? Just the person we need! Tim keeps saying- Duke: *shoves Dick in their direction and runs* Sorry, Dick - but I simply don’t have the time to get roped into another one of their Wars! Dick: *more confusion, but quickly changing to horror in realisation* Tim: Dick! Tell Jason that I wasn’t bluffing okay? And Damian’s being- Damian: I’M being?! Richard you tell TIMOTHY tha- Jason: Honestly, it’s BOTH OF Y- Dick: *Stark Betrayal Lining His Face as The Truth Dawns on Him* Dick: DUUUUKE!!

[swankyangles]

Speaking of design in general, not necessarily graphic design, my wife sent me the most unhinged multi-level pun of a cosplay I've ever seen.

It's Memphis Pyramid Head

[batshit-auspol]

For all our rivalry, almost every Australian will concede New Zealand got the upper hand the day their Prime Minister responded to news of New Zealanders migrating to Australia with the quip "good, it will raise the average IQ of both countries"

[oopsdownloadedrumblragain-blog]

"hope this email finds you well"

how the email found me :

[bi-writes]

thinking about mob baking simon a cake for his birthday (without his prior knowledge) mm good soup

mail-order bride

"you think he likes chocolate, baby?" you ask the cats. they sit side-by-side at the breakfast counter, being good girls as they sit on their chairs and watch you mix batter. "he totally likes chocolate. big boys like daddy love chocolate, don't they, girls?"

you grease two circular pans, pouring the chocolate cake batter into them. you set them in the oven before getting to work on your chocolate buttercream. you're using the new mixer simon bought you--it's beautiful, stainless steel, heavy. when you saw in the store a few weeks ago, you gushed at it, telling simon you saw someone make cinnamon rolls, bread, cakes, all in this mixer, but when your eyes skimmed over the price, you said nothing more, just smiled up at simon and let him lead you over to where the cast iron pans were (you wanted a real one).

a few weeks later, you noticed it on the kitchen counter. sparkling silver, right there, with the whisk attachment on it just waiting for you. and in the cupboard, ingredients--bread flour, powdered sugar, cornmeal, corn starch, dutch process, baking chocolate, whole wheat flour--all for you to play with. and when you baked him the most decadent triple chocolate coffee cake he had ever had, he bent you over the same table his empty plate sat and ate your cunt out with your apron still on. when you kissed him afterwards, he still tasted like chocolate.

you turn off the mixer, reaching in with a spoon to lick the buttercream off of it. you hum with delight, setting it aside, and when the oven timer dings, you pull the cakes out to let them cool.

you wrap simon's present as everything settles. special order, a favor you called into johnny. it's in a nice wooden box, and you tie a big red bow on it, and when you go back into the kitchen, you level and stack the two pieces of cake between buttercream and use a spoon to make a fancy decoration over the top of it.

the front door sounds as you're putting the finishing touches on the cake. you can hear him coming closer, and you gasp.

"no, no, no, don't come in the kitchen yet!"

"wot?"

"just--wait a little bit in the living room, okay?"

"for wot?"

"simon--" you groan. "please? for me?"

you don't hear anything after that except for the tv turning on. when you finish putting the last candles on the cake, you light them, picking up the plate and coming into the living room.

simon looks surprised. he was concentrating hard on the tv, watching the game, but his face relaxes when he sees you holding the cake. the cats perk up from where they're laid down beside him, and their ears flit as you start to sing happy birthday.

his whole face twitches. he stiffens, his palms flat on his thighs as he grips them tight. you set down the cake on the coffee table in front of him, candles glowing as you take a seat next to him. he's still staring at the cake as you finish the song.

"happy birthday, dear simon...happy birthday to you."

you smile at him, wrapping a hand around his bicep, squeezing it gently. you kiss his shoulder before motioning to the cake.

"you can blow them out now, simon," you say softly. "make a wish."

he doesn't move. he stares straight ahead, his eyes fixated on the flickering candles. you reach down and take his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers and hugging his arm. you sit with him quietly, looking at the cake with him, and after a minute or so, you turn back at him.

"simon?" you whisper.

he's crying. you put a hand on the back of his head, scratching his short hair, and you cup his face gently as you wipe his tears. he's silent. the tears come, but he still doesn't move, still won't meet your eyes. you smile, going over to pick up the cake, and you hold it in front of him.

"here...make a wish, simon," you say softly. he picks up his sleeve and wipes his face, leaning over to blow out the candles. you put down the cake, standing up to go get his gift sitting on the kitchen table. when you sit down next to him again, he's still staring at the cake, still trying to pretend his face isn't wet with tears, but he stops wiping them when you place the box in his lap.

he unravels the bow. when he opens the case, he lets out a little chuckle, smoothing his hand over the foam inside.

there are an array of throwing knives laid before him. perfectly crafted, in different shapes and sizes, and when he picks one up and twirls it around between his fingers, the weight of them and the ease at which they move tells him you only picked out the finest quality. they're beautiful, and it's a thoughtful gift, and when he closes the lid on the box, he still can't meet your eyes.

"i'll cut us some cake," you say softly. you busy yourself getting plates and a cake knife from the kitchen, cutting generous slices before handing him one of the plates. he picks up the fork, and when you notice his hand shakes, you take the plate back from him gently and scoop a bite onto the fork for him. you don't say anything, just hold it up to his mouth, and once he takes a bite, you set the plate down and watch as he chews.

when he swallows, you sit again in silence. you reach over and take simon's hands in your own, squeezing them gently before bringing them up to your mouth to kiss softly. when he finally looks at you, all you do is smile.

he hadn't even remembered it was birthday. he never told you when it was, but he supposes you must have been curious enough to look for yourself. he can't remember the last time someone made him cake. he can't remember when he last received a gift, especially one like this. he doesn't know when he last thought himself happy enough to celebrate anything at all, but there is no other way he would've wanted today to go.

joy. you bring uninhibited, unfiltered, all-consuming joy. the way you're smiling at him--he can already see you in the kitchen in that apron, baking this cake, talking to no one but the cats as you carefully decorate it. the way you're looking at him--he knows you dreamed about this all week, scheduling the day so you could have the cake done as soon as he got home.

and chocolate. his favorite. decadent, sweet chocolate--it's still under his tongue, and he wants another bite already, he cannot wait to devour the slice that waits for him on the table.

"happy birthday, simon," you whisper, and when you lean in to hug him, he cradles the back of your head, tangling a hand into your hair as he presses you to his chest. "i love you."

fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck--

"love you, too, baby."

"what did you wish for?" you mumble into his shoulder. simon snorts a little, shaking his head.

"if i tell ya, it won't come true."

"oh, yeah," you giggle. "keep your secrets then."

he doesn't want more; the only thing he wishes for is more time. more time with you. as much as he can get. to live long enough that he gets to see your face for as long as possible.

that whatever he sees for the last time will be you and you only.

[sounknownvoid]

Yeah.... villain behaviour from cas far as I'm concerned...he always ALWAYS does thing to hurt sam deliberately almost it seems to me...ugh...

Like dean is sams "most-loved" & so "most hurtful" abuser, lucifer is his most "abusive abuser" & cas is like a malicious shitty damager that increases his torments indirectly or directly....like the "aiding n abbetting'- dude for both dean and lucifer to abuse him MORE!.... ugh...

today i am thinking about cas pulling sam out of the cage from the cage pov. like sam and lucifer seeing a sudden blinding light, sam thinking hes being saved and then when it disappears again he realizes hes still in the cage. but now him and lucifer are parted physically, lucifer realizes cas stole his vessel and attempted to get sam out completely. like just imagining lucifers anger + sam not only realizing that he probably wont be saved now because cas might think he already saved him and not come back; but also that this just opened up entirely new ways for lucifer to torture him physically and also added on to lucifers anger and frustration which will get taken out on him.... Yeahr

[frownyalfred]

Pissed-off Batkid: “I’m not Batman.”

[authority figure] who’s about to ruin their entire year: “Yeah, that much is pretty obvious. Because Batman would’ve already figured a way out of this shit.”

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

It had only been a few hours since the glowing entity had sunk into Nightwings shadow while he was on patrol. So far, his symptoms were mild but concerning.

Batman had wrapped his eldest son in a big blanket as he shivered violently. Taking the thermometer out of his mouth, it showed he wasn't running a fever, but his temperature wasn't running any lower than normal either.

Which was odd since Dicks lips were blue.

"Do we have results on the blood samples?"

-Not much.- Red Robin answered through the coms, -this stuff is kinda like Lazarus water but only vaguely. If Ras is involved he's changed up the formula a lot-

Bruce looked down at his son, usually this would be the point where he would make a quip or joke of some sort, but there was nothing. Only his face contorting as his emotions swang to one extreme to the next, his eyes periodically flashing Lazarus green...

Aka Danny is badly injured and in his panic he sees Nightwing and thinks, "Safety" and that the hero wouldn't mind, so he burrows his way into Nightwings shadow to basically go into hibernation to fix himself.

Who could have possibly guessed that a super powerful entity forcibly entering someone's subconscious and staying there would have massive mental and physical consequences? Not Danny, apparently.

[041muk]

the fist bump is killing me hhhh and his little strides

12.19.24 (SEA @ CHI)

[paracosmicka]

waking up and seeing your vent art is crazy dude

[starkspi]

Lucifer x Salem quotes 1/? (+ Alastor)

[transgender-png]

i don't like her bc she fucking Bit my Peanits off

men try to explain why they dislike a female character without calling her a bitch challenge

[velvetterabby]

First drawing of the year was a redraw of the post that started everything 💖 thanks for all the support!!

[call-me-cosmic]

~

[draw-the-squad-like-this]

Draw your OTP like this