#idk what to call this honestly?

[orizukuin]

A- expressions?

[ohmygraves]

you and simon were fighting.

it was such a dumb argument too, something that you've forgotten already, but of course he didn't. he got irritated at you and yelled, pointing fingers at you calling you stupid and bringing up all the times you've wronged him. he brought up the time when you got the two of you late for a reservation and costed him both time and money, or the time that you almost burned down the house after you fell asleep cooking something.

you were undoubtedly upset, telling him about how he didn't make you feel happy, how you were alone while he was going away for so long on deployments and you're at home with no means to talk to your husband hoping that he's still alive. or that he didn't even appreciate that you'd drag your ass out of bed when he wants some midnight snack because he's a lousy cook and he only likes your food.

the two of you went back and forth for a while, calling eachother out before simon put his foot down, yelling at you.

"i can't bloody stand you, i shouldn't have married you!"

that got you to shut up.

you looked at him in shock, eyes wide as tears slowly fell from your eyes. your lips quivered as you tried to process what he just said, wondering if he was being serious or not. wondering if he knows how much his words basically stabbed you on the chest.

simon, realizing what he just said, snapped out of his anger. knowing that he had fucked up. he tried to say something, but you quickly retreated back to your shared bedroom, locking it. your tears wouldn't stop and you started bawling, your choked sobs can be heard as he approached the door.

you thought that your marriage was over, seeing that he basically regretted his decision in making you his. he yelled at you without hesitation, making you cry and basically was quiet the whole time. you should probably go back to your parents, start separation, and—

your phone pinged, a message from simon. hesitating to open the text, your fingers trembled as you read it, eyes blurry from tears as you try to quiet your sobs.

you cried more, unlocking the door as you fling it open, jumping into simon's arms. he whispered lots of apologies, promising to make it up to you, and to never treat you this way again. you cried in his arms, feeling his tender touches on your hair and your back, hands still trembling. you're sure he's bad at this, that he feels awful for what he did (you could tell he was scared because he saw thay he slowly turned to be like his father and it scares him too).

he promised that he didn't mean what he said earlier, and he didn't regret marrying you. he'll do anything to convince you, he hated hearing your sobs and cries.

[1-800-luvmail]

[ read part one w/ price here ! ]

reader who would rather skydive without a parachute than have their self sufficiency questioned vs cod men [ 2 / ? ]

könig assumed that when you invited him to bake with you, it was going to be a cute little activity for the two of you to do. a simple afternoon in your kitchen, making some baked goods to enjoy later.

he could not be more fucking wrong. you bake up a storm, leaving trails of flour, baking soda, sugar and whatever other substances you've used in your wake. you also seem to be eyeballing every single measurement. it's chaos. he's never seen a more disorganized process of making red velvet cupcakes.

the worst part is, könig can't seem to understand why he's even there.

"hey can you pass me th— nevermind, i got it." you say, standing on the tips of your toes to reach a bag of chocolate chips which was just a little too high. he's just a whole 6'10 ft of useless, standing in your kitchen, and getting in the way.

so instead of waiting for instructions, he choses to make himself helpful by attempting to clean as you bake. it works smoothly for the most part. he wipes up any milk you've spilt on the counter, places a batter covered spoon in the sink to be washed later (not before taking a little taste of course... and mess be damned, you're good at baking even if the sample he got was raw), and moves the bowls you don't quite need yet out of the way.

everything is going fine. you're talking to him like this is the most calming activity on earth and he's replying with little hums of acknowledgement and nods as he swiftly tries to get a little more batter from the whisk you've just stopped using.

"hey— no. you're gonna get sick. there's raw egg in there." you chide, just as he's about to sneak a lick. he wonders how you even noticed, considering you seem to be using 110% of your concentration on filling up the cupcake liners with just enough batter for each cupcake to be roughly the same size, which happens to be the only semblance of consistency you've had this entire baking session.

"i'm not going to die because of a little batter." he counters, amused by your concern. he can't help but chuckle.

you snort, rolling your eyes. "famous last words of an impatient man."

eventually, your baking frenzy subsides. the red velvet cupcakes are cooled after being pulled fresh out of the oven, you've made an insanely good homemade cream cheese icing to go on top (which you begrudgingly allow him one taste of. one.), and it's time to decorate. you've piped on most of the icing already, but the unsatisfied stare you give your baked goods allows him to piece together it isn't over yet.

"i think these need sprinkles." you murmur after a moment. your eyes glance around and eventually land on possibly the highest shelf in the kitchen. where the sprinkles just so happen to be. he tries to supress laughter when he sees the disbelief on your face. "motherfu—"

"i will get it." könig interrupts, stepping towards the shelf. you step in front of him, blocking him from getting there, hauling a chair with you.

"nope. won't need to. 'm innovative." he watches you set up the chair and get ready to climb up— only to gently grab your forearm and tug you back.

"famous last words of a stupid person." he scoffs, echoing your words from earlier.

you shoot him an exasperated look as you wriggle out of his grasp.

"c'mon, i do this like, what— all the time? hasn't killed me yet." you say, pointing at the shelf. "it's not that high. i'll just climb up to reach it."

"or you could swallow your pride and allow me to get it."

"and what fun would that be?"

he sighs at your response, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he mutters something to himself. probably in german. not like you could hear. you were too busy staring up at the shelf and getting the chair set up.

on one hand, könig wants to help to prevent you from potentially falling and eating shit, but on the other, he knows you well enough to understand there's no stopping you. so instead, he settles for a compromise.

könig moves the chair out of the way.

"i said, i'm getting it by myself. i kinda need the chair for that." you huff, glancing back at him, only to watch as he lowers himself, arms wrapping around your legs. "hey wh—"

before you can process, you're hoisted up into the air with a startling ease.

"alright," he isn't even trying to hide his smirk as he lifts you up, high enough to reach the shelf, "you can get it."

[reds-skull]

Price plays poker properly only when Ghost is involved

(I don't remember how to play poker so they're also playing wrong now)

[the-dragon-girl-27]

been rereading Pokespe I forgot just how cool of a character Blue is

[necrotic-nephilim]

what's fun about shipping Tim with Dick, Jason, or Damian is he has, at some point, hallucinated all of them to comfort himself. even when he doesn't like them or particularly get along with them, he has to imagine/hallucinate them just so he has the power to go on. Tim's concepts of the Robin mantle and what it should be is so fun, because he respects the others through the Robin mantle. Tim worships Dick because he was the first Robin. he wouldn't be Robin if Jason hadn't died in the mantle. and a lot of his frustration with Damian is he feels Damian isn't honoring the mantle correctly. when you ship Tim with the other Robins you can't divorce their identities as Robin from it because Tim will always see them as a Robin first and that's so fun and fucked up. like.

batman (1940) #456

Tim perceiving Dick as *Robin* cheering him on, not Nightwing, which is the version of Dick that Tim actually knows? that's just. wild of him. he will always view Dick as Robin first, his personal hero but also the original of the legacy. his love for Dick is shaped by that.

and then of course, even when he's hallucinating/imagining Jason cheering him on, it's *still* through the lense of being reminded how Jason failed? subconsciously believing that Jason got himself killed because of his actions, and that being a lesson for Tim to learn from? Jason isn't a person to Tim, he's a moral lesson about how to be Robin. any potential idolization he could have of Jason isn't because he loves Jason, it's because of the lessons Jason's death taught him.

and then, even though him hallucinating TIm is from the New-52, which makes characterization all kinds of questionable, i do think it makes sense for TIm to hallucinate/imagine Damian after Damian's death in an attempt to cope with it.

teen titans (2011) #18

to an extend, he sees Damian's death as in part his own fault. and even hating Damian, Tim needs the comfort from this to cope with Damian being gone. he's angry that Damian even was Robin, and has to learn something from Damian's death and how it impacts the Robin mantle, and teenage heroes as a whole. like, Tim can pretend he hates Damian all he wants, even getting taunted by the image of Damian, but there's still an underlying love to their relationship.

i think that's just the fun of shipping Tim with any of them. you will never divorce Tim's views of them from the Robin mantle and how fucking Unwell he is about anyone else who's been Robin before or after him, to the point he has to hallucinate them comforting him when he's at his lowest. it's always going to be a little unhealthy, a little toxic, and driven by Tim's relationship with being Robin as well. i need more Tim being weird about Robin in these ships.

[bigskydreaming]

Imagine looking at a character whose entire premise is that in every stage of his life, he's made every version of himself into someone that inspires people to such a degree that EVERY SINGLE VERSION OF HIM has people wanting to literally follow in his footsteps in some way or another.....

And coming to the conclusion that like.....the most important things about him are the sum of all his trappings. His entirely homemade developed from scratch could not exist if not for what he already was and brought with him BEFORE crafting this newest version of himself trappings, with his greatest trait throughout all of it being his adaptability; his ability and willingness to roll with the punches and not try to simply weather any opposition or changes to his life but instead reshape himself as needed to better fit INTO whatever new shape his life and the world around him takes. All while managing to carry the most innate, fundamental and necessary aspects of himself from one version to the next. Thus every single version of himself is different but simultaneously every single version of himself is also undeniably the same person.

The strength of this character, to me, will always be that he can be so many versions of himself, he can become so many things, all without ever actually losing or discarding any of the aspects of himself he considers most essential, the things he's not willing to lose or give up just to keep going. Finding that road not taken by most, usually because most never even think to look for it as an option. But one that he's always able to find because the one trick he's mastered in his tumultuous life is threading that needle of not just digging in his heels in an unproductive way but rather being selective about when and where he makes a stand and decides "this is not a thing I'm willing to compromise about" but here are places and ways I can and will change and evolve and adapt in order to make it possible for me to hold onto these parts and keep them as they are.

And that's why its always so mind-boggling to me that so many writers can't seem to think of anything else to do with Dick Grayson other than invent some new reason for him to just....not be that person, or to like just take the character whose most basic fundamental trait he's NOT about to compromise on is willingly giving up his spot in the driver's seat of his own life.....and make him just a passenger in his own life and stories.

Dick Grayson at age nine....at age nineteen...at age twenty nine....the one core thread running through all versions of him is the only way he's standing back and letting you call the shots for him or putting him on the sidelines in some way is over his dead body.

HOW he goes about that, what that looks like, who he becomes and what aspects of himself he plays up at some times and what traits he lets fall by the wayside at other times when they offer less in service to his primary goal here....that changes constantly. He changes constantly.

But those changes are almost always (or at least they used to be/should be IN MY OPINION) made with the intention of keeping certain things about him or his life as consistent as possible.

That's the duality of Dick Grayson that I'm here for. The inherent contradiction of him that COULD allow for endless conflict and breaking new narrative ground in all sorts of ways if mined properly:

His eternal willingness to compromise....but only ever in pursuit of doubling down on the ways he's not willing to compromise.

Forever walking that tightrope in ways that only a kid born and raised in a circus could ever hope to.

[violetscanfly]

The soundscape of this image is just glasses clacking together

[solarpunkani]

"Oh no, someone's attracted to the aesthetics of my -punk movement but doesn't know the praxis and history behind it like I do--"

OK. Tell them. Make it a teaching moment. Everyone who's in your movement learned the background from somewhere at some point, maybe this is that point for that person. Give them a jumping off point that they can dive into later.

"Oh but I shouldn't be responsible for teaching baby -punks about the history and the how-tos and--"

OK. Then don't tell them. You don't have to be responsible for teaching people with a budding interest in your group the ins and outs and how-tos. That's fair and valid! It can be a lot of work. Someone else will handle it

"But I'm annoyed that they would try to claim to be part of/be interested in my community without knowing all the details that I know after being in it for months/years/decades, they're dumb, they're posers, they're--"

OK. Then don't engage with them, if it's that bad. Maybe someone else will come around and tell them the history, maybe they'll pick it up on their own, maybe they'll just enjoy the fashion elements for awhile.

"But they shouldn't claim to be part of the -punk community if they don't know the--"

I feel like we have a few options here. People can either talk to them, share the history, share the values, share the praxis. Or they can just chase off anyone who even thinks about dipping a toe in their community, and then wonder why it's dying off later down the line.

I dunno, maybe I'm too naive and patient or whatever. But if people are entering your -punk spaces without knowing The Rundown of what you feel they need to know, maybe being nice about it and informing people instead of immediately assuming stupidity and malicious intent could help you make a new friend. Even the loudest voices in a space had to learn from somewhere, and not everyone has the luxury of being in the space as the History was Happening--whether it's an age thing or a not being aware of the space thing. Or maybe I just don't see what the big deal is behind people hating people who like the aesthetic of something and don't know the behind the scenes history about it yet.

Because I believe in the word 'yet.' No one comes into this world knowing everything about everything, and we're all constantly learning new things. I'm not gonna degrade someone and call them a poser for not knowing what I know. Because if it were me, interested in a scene but getting chased out and called a poser? I wouldn't hit the books and study up, I'd go 'that fuckin sucks, those people sucked' and then avoid anyone and anything having to do with it.

So chase people off and call them posers if you want. But if your community starts dwindling, don't be fucking shocked.

[fandumb-thoughts]

“What did you do?” Adam asked.

Cain—his first born, the first ever born—looked at him with eyes wide and terrified. Adam’s eyes, Eve would say, the same brown of rich, rain-watered soil.

“I don’t know,” Cain said. “I don’t- Dad, I don’t know. Why won’t he wake up?”

Cain’s lip trembled, hands clasped tightly together, tears welling and falling in great fat drops. He was still so young, younger than Adam had ever been. His knees were knobbly and his wrists thin and he barely came up to Adam’s chin. Big enough to work, to till the fields and pull the weeds and harvest the crops, but small enough to curl tight in his mother’s arms when lightning cracked the sky.

On the ground was Abel, even younger yet. He tended the flocks and kept watch for anything that might want to harm them. He was good with them—gentler than Adam understood, though Eve told him to let him be. Even now several sheep creeped closer, braying nervously at the sharp scent of iron.

Abel was still shorter than Eve. He had a gap in the far back of his mouth where the last of his molars had popped out only a handful of days before. He had freckles that showed up in the summer sun, as if he had grown them there, all over his face and shoulders and arms.

“Dad, what do I do? What can I-?”

Abel’s eyes were open, looking to the sky that they so resembled, but they didn’t see anything. Somehow, Adam knew. Abel wouldn’t see anything ever again.

Adam hadn’t known that they could die. Humans, that was. Adam hadn’t known that Humans could die. How could he?

He’d suspected, of course. He bled when he was cut just like the animals he’d learned to butcher for their fat and meat and skin. He grew weak when they had little food to come by, they all had fallen ill a time or two, he’d watched as Eve lost what would have, otherwise, turned into a child. It wasn’t a shocking conclusion to reach, but he’d never known for certain. Not like he did now.

Adam fell to his knees, hands helplessly cradling Abel’s face. His son, his body, his baby-

There was so much blood, comign from the cracked-open place in Abel’s brown hair. It dyed his curls slick black, spilling down his neck. The soil was covered in it. This place would be stained for days—weeks, maybe even months—just as the place they slaughtered the livestock was marked as a place of death.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do. I’m sorry.” Cain was sobbing, hiccuping over his words and gasping for breath.

Adam’s vision was blurring as his own tears came. Abel’s face felt rubbery and wrong underneath his hands. Lifeless.

This was wrong. This shouldn’t have happened. This should never happen. Abel was so young, had so much more to live. He would keep growing—maybe until he was taller than not only his mother but Adam too—and he would continue to tend the flocks like personally tending to the lambs that fell ill with sudden weakness and some day he would have his own children because that’s how it worked, how God had told them it worked and He never lied.

“D-Dad, say something, please. Daddy, say something!”

Cain was his son, too. The first Human ever born when Adam and Eve still struggled to provide even the most basic needs for themselves. He was a good boy—always so helpful, always so smart. He knew when food ran low, when the well pulled up dry, when the hearth burnt out, that it wasn’t easily fixed and so he didn’t complain and tried his hardest to make it better, somehow. He was a good son. 

So why had he done this?

“What happened?” Adam asked, still looking at those glassy blue eyes.

“I-” Cain stuttered, like he didn’t expect to be asked. “We went to bring out sacrifices to God. I brought what extra I had grown and Abel slaughtered a goat—the little one, with the limp. God accepted the goat but He…He said I was to do better.”

God was like that sometimes, Adam knew. He didn’t know why, maybe He just liked meat better than grains and fruit. 

Each time they had to butcher even a chicken Abel got—had gotten—upset. When they slaughtered the goats and sheep and cattle he always cried, but they needed to eat and God needed to be praised and worshiped.

“He- He always says that, but I give Him everything. I’ve always set aside the sweetest fruit, the finest wheat, the very best of the lot. I make sure to give Him everything Mom thinks we can spare—sometimes even more because I don’t want to disappoint Him.”

Cain sounded desperate. Like he needed Adam to understand.

“What happened?” Adam repeated. His voice thundered, and he saw Cain’s feet stumble back. Some part of Adam was distraught at having incited such a fearful reaction, but some other part nearly reveled in it.

“I was just so angry,” Cain said, sounding miserable and defeated and small. “It isn’t fair Abel is always getting praised when he’s choosing the weakest and worst of what he has. I didn’t…I wanted him to hurt but not this badly.”

“Wasn’t,” Adam said.

He was shaking, but not from cold or fear. Rage coursed through him like it never had before—not even when Lilith left him, or when he’d bitten into the Fruit and understand what they had just been tricked into doing, or when God had cast them from Eden.

“What?” Cain asked. He still sounded so small, like he was Seth’s age instead of nearly fifteen. Maybe even younger than that.

“It wasn’t fair. Abel was getting praised.”

“No! No, Dad, he isn’t- I didn’t-”

He understood what he’d done. He probably had since the very start, or close to it. He was never stupid.

“He is,” Adam said, and finally looked at Cain.

Cain looked lost. Frightened, in many ways, like every single thing he knew had been upended and scattered. Adam…couldn’t feel much of anything.

“He can’t be,” Cain said, a plea like a prayer. “I didn’t mean it.”

“He is. He’s dead. You killed him.”

“No,” Cain wept. “No!”

Adam was standing. His hands were covered in his son’s blood, his son who lay dead on the ground at his feet. Cain shrank away from him, like-

Like he was afraid Adam might kill him.

“Leave,” Adam said.

Cain sobbed. “No, Daddy, please- I didn’t know! I didn’t know!”

“Leave!” Adam shouted. “You killed him! Get away from here, get out!”

Cain tripped over his feet, scrapped a knee and both palms in the dirt. And then he ran.

Adam watched until he left the field they had tended together, that Adam had first sowed when Cain was first learning to wobble on chubby legs. He watched as he tore through the brush and sharp brushes, until he lost sight of his hair and brown tunic, until he couldn’t hear him in the forest. He stayed there, staring off into the space where he had gone, until a small lamb brayed near his feet.

The creature had crept closer to him and its fallen favorite master. It bleated at the boy crumpled to the earth, clean white wool coming nearer and nearer to being stained by the blood congealing in Abel’s clothes.

“Fuck,” Adam said. His boy—his boys. Cain and Abel, the first two and then only two for several grueling years. One always coming right after the other.

Hadn’t Eve seen this coming? Had a dream so terrible it woke her in the night with a start so strong it had woken Adam, too? She’d begged him to help them, their two eldest children, to prevent the animosity she knew was brewing.

Adam hadn’t believed her, not really. The boys adored each other, it was plain as day to see. Still, she had insisted and it wasn’t that bad of an idea to separate their area of work. Perhaps it would be best, in the long run, for Cain to know as much as he could about farming the earth and for Abel to know how best to tend to their animals. A downright practicality. Up until this moment, had Eve come to him again with her concerns, he didn't think he would have believed it. 

Even now, even after all this…he couldn’t actually believe that the two hated each other. Certainly not their sweet, gentle Abel and their thoughtful, dedicated Cain. Not when the roughest tumble they’d gotten into before had only resulted in bruises because they’d accidentally fallen from the river bank they’d been walking near. Not when Adam had watched Cain rise from the bed he and Abel shared with their youngest brother, delicately extracting himself from the tangle of limbs so as to not wake the others, only this morning. 

“Fuck!” Adam yelled, tears falling hot and fast.

It was frighteningly easy to gather Abel into his arms. To carry his limp little body back to the house—back to his bed, his mother, their hearth.

“Adam?” came Eve, as he entered their little yard. “What- no, no!”

She must’ve thought he was carrying something else, at least for a moment, but the instant she realized her scream was shrill enough to send the chickens flying to the trees.

“No, no, my baby, my baby,” she cried, running to Adam as if she could take the weight all unto herself. “No, please, this can’t- oh!”

From where Eve had come was Seth, only seven and still little enough to cling to his mother’s legs when uncertain. He looked very much like he would like to do just that, now, old enough to understand that he wouldn’t be able to. Not when Eve wept as she did, not when Adam’s face was wet, not when Abel was limp and Cain was nowhere to be found.

Eve crumpled to her knees, taking Adam down with her. Her arms crossed beneath his. Between them they cradled Abel, so small and so young and so very dead.

~~~

A/N: Full disclaimer I did in fact write this because I watched Hazbin Hotel. Yes, it did surprise me that such a stupid little show (that I have semi-complicated opinions about but did enjoy watching) inspired something like this. I don't think it's strongly related to Hazbin Hotel in any way, though it could be if I was actually interested in expanding it (and I'm not really). There is non-negligible impact from Supernatural and Good Omens in this as well.

[cupiidzbow]

cool down after work today so i wanted to doodle the actual queen of the world and my heart 🩵

[kenmaiii]

after two years i finally draw the favorite

[qcoded]

TOH AU where Belos manipulated The Collector so badly they turned delusional 😭 As in "Nahhh Philip did nothing wrong!!! he's still my best friend!! it was a misunderstanding !!!' delusional

[woeismywaffle]

Y'all remember this scene in the pilot where Charlie calls Lilith and says that 'dad was right about me'? I desperately need to know what exactly he said to her because even tho the pilot is technically still canon, show Lucifer doesn't seem like the kind of guy to outright call Charlie a failure/disappointment to her face

[hollowsart]

A fun concept:

what if YOU were Doc Ock?

what if YOU were Mysterio?

what if YOU were Vulture?

what if YOU were Electro or Sandman or Rhino or even the Green Goblin? Or more?? Black Cat perhaps?

How would you look and vary from the norm? would you vary a lot or a little? would your naming convention be a little different? (ie 'pink' goblin, blue gremlin or something. or even having a different sand color as sandman)

you can have extra fun and creativity with this.. Black Rabbit instead of Black Cat is a great example!

if you're an animal based/inspired villain from Spider-Man's rogues gallery.. you could easily base your design on a different species of cat, octopus, vulture, rhino.. etc.

(I already know some people have been making Doc Ock-sonas within the spidersona community, but.. what if we expanded on that? make it a whole fun little trend?)

[mavenbeeee]

i know everyone is praising ify for how he’s playing this season and i do think he is slaying but some of his moves kinda bother me😭😭😭i didn’t like how he took all the drug juice i feel like brennan obviously had a plan for how that was gonna work with persimmon dead AND everyone would’ve got a cool moment with the drugs but he kinda just took it :/ obviously it worked out and it did lead to that convo w liv and russell but idk i felt like jacob in that moment and i’m not even playing LMAO like i would rather have just seen what brennan was gonna do and got to see how everyone was gonna take it