#I KNOW IT ALL CONNECTS BUT LIKE…WHAT HAPPENED TO JOHN!!! WHERE HE GO!!!!

[chaos-has-theories]

I do think the Memorandum cleared up at least some of this. Like:

The cohort fights on close range to make use of necromantic abilities. The necromancers need to be reasonably close to dying enemies to access their thanergy; cavaliers make that thanergy happen up close, and the rest of the ground troops amplify that effect. (Hmmmm. Sth sth all necromancers are kind of resurrection beasts - cavaliers as heralds, ground troops as the general debris around the Beast? hmmmmmmm.)

This means that long distance fighting is BoE's best chance to do anything, and they know it. But: "The sniper, our greatest asset, can also be our greatest weakness."

...firing on House troops without proper advance reconnaissance is extremely unwise. The “death sense” is not only applicable to the enemy gaining intel, but is sophisticated enough that the death of a minion can be used to create a connection between the gunner and the necromancer. The perfect sniper round that kills a necromancer’s minion will not only tell the necromancer exactly where the sniper is, but give them a conduit to kill or disable the sniper directly. A necromancer’s range has been clocked at three thousand metres using this method.

That aside, BoE doesn't necessarily fight to take down invasion forces. The Memorandum stresses that their goals are always about long-term advantages: "It is never worth sacrificing BoE combat personell simply to achieve a reduction in House numbers, unless that reduction carries with it some wider strategies, e.g., enabling high-value assets to be removed from immediate danger."

In other words: protect the Message. In other words, probably: Make sure the last ship makes it through the FTL jump.

So let's put aside BoE. Honestly... I think we're RIGHT to think about the horrible implications. John isn't out there to strengthen the Empire, not really. He's barely shepherding those planets, and still it keeps going: "[Coronabeth] said what would be most economically productive was intermingling with these people... that shepherd planets got more costly the further the Houses extend themselves, and that instead of creating long-lasting industry industry we were doing little more than slash-and-burn trading."

WHY he's doing this is beside the point, but he's just out there flipping planets. And to flip planets, either a Lyctor needs to target its communal soul... or an army has to move in and just start killing.

(Now personally, I think he's flipping planets to set Obelisks, and he's setting Obelisks to extend his reach, and he's extending his reach exactly as he did during the original apocalypse, grasping for more and more so that he can finally get his hands around the final ship. But that's not the point.)

So yes, it's quite likely that they aren't up against organized armies.

But even if they are... sure, getting at people in tanks or on the other side of a field might be difficult... but not impossible. A necromancer's range has been clocked at 3000 meters using this method. It's like a game of Reverse Chess: Once the pawns start falling, it's just a matter of time until White wins. ...or something I don't actually know my chess that well.

Under those circumstances, would non-necromantic warfare really be that much more efficient? Like prev metioned, the psychological warfare is shockingly efficient. Plus, using Thanergy is essentially a renewable resource. So is using a bit of cannon fodder, whether that really is the Fourth House of no.

And here's the thing, right? That's the only renewable resource the Houses have. They write on plastic. Some of their SWORDS are plastic. Real paper is an incredibly luxury, the Ninth doesn't even use water to shower, Gideon has never seen a salad. Some of that is specifically Ninth, but aside from the First House none of the planets have natural life. They've got atmospheric stations on Venus, they've got greenhouses, they've got a lot of stuff, but if they're not even properly using the resources of their shepherd planets, where are they getting them? It's all recycled, over and over.

So anyway. TL,DR: Yes they're probably cutting down civilians and I suspect that's fully canon 👍

One thing I wish I knew about The Locked Tomb: how much the warfare is meant to be handwaved.

The things we hear about war necromancy strongly imply the Nine Houses are fighting against infantry: corpse bombs, vampirically souped-up cavaliers, and, of course, sword-wielding soldiers who provide the original wave of death to let the necromancers work. These all assume you can access an enemy combatant in the flesh.

But they're fighting opponents who technologically should be able to produce tanks, bombers, and lots and lots and lots of drones. Necromancy and swords are not going to be militarily effective against an opponent who's inside a tank--much less one who's remotely piloting a drone.

If we're just setting all that aside, that's one thing.

But if we're not, then there's no way anyone's sending waves of infantry at these people.

Which leads to some truly nasty thoughts about who's the actual target of the Nine Houses' tactics. Who is that original wave of death? Who ends up on the wrong end of a front-line sword-swinger's blade?

[zionanelequaso]

the midnight crew and the felt my beloved

[beloveds-embrace]

(Poly 141 x fem reader)

You had always been their sweetheart.

Soft, tender, and gentle- the heart of their home. The warmth in the spaces between them, the one they curled around after long days of violence, soothed by your touch and your voice, the way you cared for them without hesitation. No matter how much blood stained their hands, no matter what nightmares haunted their sleep, you were there. Unshaken. Unyielding in your love, hands gentle and soft as you cradled them close and warm.

So they had never needed to know about the things you kept buried.

The past you refused to unearth. The things you could do, the person you had been before them- before you had a home to call your own, before you had people who held you just as carefully as you held them.

They didn’t need to know, and you didn’t need to think about it.

Until they went missing.

You first learned something was wrong when John’s daily check-in didn’t come.

It had always been a habit of his, something he did without fail, no matter how far away he was. Just to let you know I’m breathing, love. That was what he had said, years ago, the first time he had explained it to you. You had teased him for it- What, you don’t trust me to not burn the house down?- but he had only smiled, voice steady and sure when he told you, I like knowing you’re safe.

It had never failed. Not once. Even when he himself could not text you, Lasswell herself assured you they were fine and merely had to be careful.

But now came the silence.

No messages. No calls. No updates.

You tried not to panic. They were on a mission, after all. Maybe something had gone wrong with their comms, or maybe they had been forced to go dark, and Lasswell was busy. It had happened before, and they had always come back to you, whole and alive, pressing their faces into your neck, murmuring apologies and reassurances.

But then a full week passed.

Then two.

And no one would tell you a thing and Lasswell wasn’t picking up, either.

You had tried- had called, had knocked on doors, had pushed until you were met with polite deflections and stone-cold refusals.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but that information is classified.”

“There’s nothing we can share at this time.”

“We appreciate your patience.”

Patience.

As if you would sit here, helpless, and just wait. Hopeless, and helpless, and unable to do a single thing to help then.

No. No, you had done that before. You had waited before. And it had cost you everything.

You weren’t that girl anymore. You weren’t a victim of circumstance, hoping for scraps of kindness, praying for someone to do right by you.

If no one would help, you would do it yourself; because they were yours, and they were the best thing that have ever happened to you, and you weren’t going to lose them.

Tracking them down was easier than you expected.

You had spent years curating the image of someone soft and harmless, someone not worth keeping secrets from. And people loved to talk. Especially when they thought you were just a grieving, desperate woman trying to find a lost fiancé and his friends.

All it had taken was a few well-placed words, a few tearful looks, and doors had opened.

It had taken only days to pinpoint their last known location, then. After you’d hunted down Laswell, and had her help you. Though you were glad to see that she was working to find out where they were, as well, and merely lacked the manpower because of some general named Shepherd.

You filed the name away for later thoughts.

A warlord with connections to arms smuggling in Eastern Europe. An old base, abandoned by one regime and taken over by another. And your men had been sent in to dismantle it.

But they hadn’t come back. MIA, the reports said.

You didn’t think. You didn’t hesitate. You didn’t care for those three letters. You moved.

You gathered supplies, mapped out your route, planned your approach with the precision of someone who had done it before. You emptied old caches, dusted off weapons you hadn’t touched in years, and set off.

The infiltration was clean; a single shadow among many, slipping between patrols, cutting down obstacles with silent, brutal efficiency. Years it may have been, you hadn’t gotten as rusty as you’d feared you’d be.

You had never been squeamish. You had learned long ago that softness had no place in survival- but it could thrive and bloom in the aftermath, a stubborn weed that eventually makes way for a full bouquet.

But this was different.

This was fury burning in your blood as you carved a path forward, every movement precise- you couldn’t afford any less.

You didn’t stop, no matter what.

Not until you found them at last, and your heart ached something fierce abd sharp in your chest.

Caged. Beaten. Bound but not broken- and drugged.

I should have been more rough, you mourn for a split second. An easy death was more mercy than what was deserved.

John’s head lifted first, eyes glassy and unfocused. “Love-?”

Then Simon, bloodied but breathing, his body sluggish with whatever chemicals they had pumped into him. Every part of him was covered in blood and cuts.

Johnny’s voice, then, hoarse and raw, full of disbelief and worry. “No. No, you’re not- this insnae real-“

And Kyle, whose breath hitched as you knelt beside him, gentle fingers brushing against his bruised face.

They thought they were dreaming; they thought you weren’t real.

And maybe that was a… mercy.

Because if they had been clear-headed, if they had seen what you had done to get here, if they had watched the way you had cut down anyone in your path with merciless efficiency-

They would have looked at you differently.

And you couldn’t bear that. To have their illusion of your gentleness shattered like that…

So you played along.

Whispered reassurances, pressed kisses to sweat-damp foreheads, untied their bindings with careful hands. You coaxed them to move, guided them through the corridors you’d emptied, wiped away the blood that dripped from their skinz

And when they sagged against you, too dazed to fight, too lost in the haze of their drugged delirium, you held them-

Kept them safe, and brought them home.

Later, they woke in a hospital, clean and stitched and safe.

You were already there, fussing over them, your voice soft and sweet, your fingers gentle as you pressed cool cloths to fever-warm skin, brushed stray curls from foreheads, adjusted pillows and blankets with quiet determination. Dressed in something white and pink, the colors of innocence, nails cleaned of blood even if your hands will never be truly clean.

You looked the same as ever.

Pretty and delicate, their lovely girl, their tender-hearted sweetheart.

And for all that had happened, all that they had suffered, all that you had done-

They never suspected a single thing, and you didn’t tell them; didn’t tell them that there had been no extraction team. That there had been no grand military rescue- not even from the the same military that had abandoned them.

(His name was General Shepherd. You will not forget it- you’d need to carve his name on the bullet you’ll save just for him, after all.)

That it had been you.

Only you.

Only Laswell knew the truth, and she would keep your secret because she understood what it meant to protect the people you loved.

And if you had to carry this weight alone to keep them from ever looking at you like you were something other-

So be it.

You sat beside John, pressing a kiss to his temple as his fingers curled weakly around yours.

You smiled at Simon when his hand brushed against your knee, seeking reassurance, seeking you, his eyes tired.

You let Johnny hold you, his arms tight around your waist as he mumbled something unintelligible against your shoulder, still half-lost in the remnants of the drugs.

And when Kyle murmured: “At leas’ you’re safe, pretty.” His voice thick with sleep-

You just smiled and ran your fingers carefully through his hair, and held them the way you always had.

And pretended that everything was exactly the same.

(Part Two)

[athenalvss]

I'M A GENIE IN A BOTTLE ( Bruce wayne! )

request:I was wondering if you could write abt Bruce wayne and a sorceress!reader in future

pairing: Bruce wayne x sorceress!fem!reader

summary: John Constantine brings a sorceress friend to the Justice League for a mission and Bruce can't help but act like he's not interested in the pretty sorceress.

a/n: I didn't know where to put this, bc it's not a oneshot, for a headcone it's too much info and it doesn't match a dabble

open request — batfam masterlist

Your powers weren't natural to you. You didn't come from a different world or something like that. You just had bad luck meeting the wrong people and ended up being possessed by a spirit that belonged to a forgotten tribe, one that doesn't appear on maps or books. An ancient race that coexisted with gods and demons before history began to be written.

For years you lived apart from everything, trying to understand what you were now. You weren't the same, but you were still you. The spirit that inhabited your body wasn't looking to destroy you, but it wasn't trying to give up its space either, so you tried to coexist and form something resembling a friendship.

During that time, you met Constantino, a funny and flirtatious drunk who eventually became your friend. When you finally got the courage to tell him what was happening, you didn't get the solutions you were hoping for. Instead, he offered you companionship, basic guidance, and some help controlling your new abilities. He told you that this was all beyond him, that he couldn't do anything to you.

One day, when you came home, you found him inside as if it were the most normal thing in the world—which wasn't a lie, since he always came into your house as if it were his own— The strange thing was seeing that he wasn't alone. The entire Justice League was in your living room. They were in the middle of a magical mission that threatened to get out of hand, and according to Constantine, you could be of great help.

"Hey John, what are you doing here? Why is Superman on my couch?" You asked, without even finishing your greeting, without raising your voice, but with your arms crossed. "And why is Flash going through my bookshelf?"

"Relax, witch," Constantine said, giving you his signature lopsided grin. "Magic's running wild out there, and it turns out your... unique... situation might come in handy. You can finally be a weirdo freely."

"We don't have time for this, Constantine. We believe you're connected to what's happening. And we need answers," a deeper, firmer voice intervened, the dark knight from the darkest corner of the room, without taking his eyes off you.

You helped out on that first mission without giving it much thought. You had nothing to lose, so you just did what was necessary, what no one else could do. And a week later, Bruce Wayne showed up at your door, this time alone.

"I don't usually repeat visits" was the first thing he said.

"I don't usually receive them" you replied.

It wasn't a long conversation. He offered you to join the Justice League. Not out of obligation, but because he knew your powers were too important to ignore, and it's better to have someone powerful as an ally than as an enemy.

Your arrival at the Atalaya didn't go unnoticed. Some members were cautious, others downright suspicious. Constantine warned you what was going to happen. Except for Flash, he asked you questions all the time. "Can you read minds? Can you see the future? How do you do your eyes?" You didn't know if it was out of curiosity or nervousness.

Bruce didn't talk to you much after recruiting you. He watched. Silent, but always close. You pretended not to notice, you didn't know if it was distrust or simple curiosity.

But that changed one day after a particularly chaotic mission, when he offered you ice for a shoulder wound. He said nothing as you held it against your skin. He just stood there, his eyes fixed on you, as if he had a thousand questions and no intention of asking them.

Since the night of the ice on your shoulder, Bruce began to appear more frequently. He didn't say much, but his presence became constant. After every mission, without fail, he would check to make sure you weren't hurt. Sometimes he would ask with a gesture, other times he would simply observe you closely.

He never asked you personal questions, but he seemed to memorize every one of your answers when you talked to others.

One night, while you were reviewing magical documents in the surveillance room, you noticed him approaching and wordlessly placing a cup of coffee beside you. He simply nodded and stayed for a few more minutes before leaving.

No one was surprised to see him near you anymore. Neither were you. You just pretended not to notice him. Something had changed. It wasn't immediate or dramatic, but you began to notice his presence in a different way. Bruce no longer just watched you from the shadows. He stayed longer. Sometimes he was just there, as if that were enough. And for you, it was.

Constantine constantly mocked you both. “You know, Bat, if you're going to stare at her like that, at least buy her a drink.” Bruce never reacted. But you swore he only smirked once.

The rest of the League members began to notice the changes between you, Diana only raising an eyebrow once, after seeing Bruce take off his cloak and place it on your shoulders without you asking. She didn't say anything, but the look between you said it all. .

Superman asked you directly one day: “You and Bruce…?” To which you only responded with an enigmatic smile and a shrug.

The problem with your strange relationship with Bruce wasn't the members of the league, but rather what was inside you: you didn't like Bruce very much.

It wasn't something you could control. That old part of you, which you never fully understood, reacted uncomfortably when Bruce was around. Maybe because he wasn't afraid of you. Or maybe because he overanalyzed you.

Sometimes, his presence caused your magic to stir in subtle ways: a candle lighting itself, a book falling for no reason. But Bruce never flinched. He just stared, as if he knew it wasn't exactly you behind it.

Over time, that old part of her stopped pushing him away so strongly. She still watched him, still tested him, but she no longer pushed him away. There was a quiet respect in the air every time he walked into the room.

And you... you started to notice that you felt calmer when he was around. As if his calmness made even the darkest part of you feel at peace.

[bullet-prooflove]

Mood: Jack Abbot x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @flyinglama @yousigned-upforthis @gabsgabsvaz @fadeinsol

Summary: Jack reacts badly when you surprise him with a trip to Germany.

Companion piece to:

Tummy Tingles - Jack feels his first flush of desire since Maria's death.

Go Your Own Way - Jack struggles with his feelings for you.

The Asshole King - Jack discovers you have an unusual technique for dealing with patients.

Bob Dylan - You help Jack to relax after an incident at the hospital leaves him temporarily blind.

Because Of You - Jack realises he's starting to heal in more ways than one after you spend the day taking care of him.

Balance - Jack reveals his feelings for you but they come with complications.

Three Days (NSFW) - Jack spends three days making you his.

Messy - John doesn't mind getting a little messy when it's with you.

Off Limits - An awkward start to the day leads Jack to make a claim on your affections.

The Go Bag - Your relationship with Jack takes a turn when you discover another go bag in his car.

Nadine - Jack's sister in law is a real piece of work.

Hawaii - Jack discovers who he really is when you book a trip to Hawaii.

Silk (NSFW) - Jack loves the sight of you in silk.

Sucker - Jack pulls out all the stops in order to win an important race.

Boston - You reflect on the past after your ex-husband makes an appearance on a trying day.

This God Damn Fucking Day - Jack steps into the fray with things get messy between you and you ex-husband.

Misdemeanour - Jack's forced to step in when you get arrested because of your ex-husband.

Fishtail - Jack helps you decompress in the aftermath of your ex-husband.

Love Language (NSFW) - Jack has his own unique love language.

What Puts You On That Ledge - Jack finds away to pull you off that ledge.

Champagne Gold (NSFW) - Jack never thought he'd marry again.

Masochist - You and Jack have an indepth understanding of one another.

Seven Shades of Fucked Up (NSFW) - You know exactly how to get Jack off.

Part of the Job - Violence has always been part of the job, but this time it hits a little too close to home for Jack.

Pittfest - Jack's day turns into a nightmare when he recieves a notification from the hospital regarding a mass casuality event.

Snapband - Jack's worst fear comes true during a mass casuality event.

Blood (NSFW) - Jack takes care of you in the aftermath of Pittfest in his own special way.

Life Raft - Jack reaches out when he sees that you're struggling.

Bread - Jack finds his own way to cope with almost losing you at Pittfest.

Overcompensating - A problem with Jack's prosthetic leads him to overcompensate during his shift.

Good Boy (NSFW) - You use alternative methods to get Jack to agree to take care of himself.

A Goddamn Miracle Worker - You always know the perfect way to take care of Jack.

Jack’s in a mood. He’s been in a mood ever since you woke him up and told him you need to get your asses to the airport because you’re flying to Ottobock’s clinic in Munich to get his new prosthetic leg fitted. He sits in the window seat of the plane, his arms crossed over his chest with a pout on his features that reminds of the early days of your relationship, when you thought your colleague hated you.

“You shouldn’t have surprised me like this.” He informs you, shoulders drawn up as he stares at the back of the seat in front of him. “I’m serious, you shouldn’t have-”

“I’m not apologising for solving a problem that is literally effecting your day to day existence.” You inform him as you flick through the magazine you picked up in the airport. “So suck it up buttercup, this is happening.”

“It’s not fair of you to use your connections like this when there are hundreds of people ahead of me on the waiting list. Why is my need greater than theirs?” He argues and you toss the magazine into the empty seat next to you before you turn to face him.

“Because your current leg is slowing you down Jack. You know it and I know it.” You erupt, gesturing at the space where his prosthetic resides as months of frustration seeps out of you. “There’s going to come a time when it fails you, when you can’t get to that patient quick enough or you can’t do what you need to do and that is going to haunt you, it’s going to eat you up from the inside out and I do not want that! I don’t want you blaming yourself for a faulty piece of equipment that should have been replaced months ago!”

“It’s still not right.” He grumbles, collapsing back into his seat with a huff and staring out the window. "I don't deserve special treatment."

“Well you can spent the next nine hours being super mad about it or you can lift the armrest and we can nap together so we’re fresh when we get to the other side.” You inform him, removing your headphones and sleep mask from your carry on.

His jaw clenches, the corded muscles in his throat prominent as he swallows hard, his gaze fixed on the clouds outside.

“I don’t need a nap.” He tells you putting his elbow on the armrest, keeping it firmly in place. It feels like a slap in the fucking face, just like he intended.

“Fine you wanna be an asshole, be an asshole.” You say, jamming your headphones into your ears. “I’ll still be here when you decide not to be.”

Love Jack? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[psychemochanight]

I was thinking about the last comics that came out, and... I have two thoughts that have nothing to do with each other, but I'm going to mix them up here anyway.

First, It makes perfect sense that Dick h has the blood type that can give the most, but receive the least. (Empathy: It means you give blood until there is nothing left to bleed).

A long time ago, I had read a fic where Bruce commented on this, actually. I don't remember the name because it wasn't from ao3, but I want to look it up again sometime.

Dick told Bruce that he wasn't his son (because he wasn't adopted), but when something happens, and Dick needs a blood transfusion, Bruce is the donor.

Clark and Bruce are talking, and Bruce tells Clark that there is only one person in the League who can donate blood to Dick... Bruce himself, since they both are O-

He tells Clark that Dick has more of his blood than John Grayson's running through his veins. That's his kid, his son.

Which brings me to my second thought, which is that Dick's parents, according to the new issue that came out, had him training 10 hours a day from the age of three.

A typical workday is usually 8 hours a day, and many adults find it tiresome.

Dick has been training 10 hours a day since he was 3 years old.

And he seems to think this is okay, or something to be proud of.

Also, there's another comic where Dick says he sometimes wishes he was just a kid, watching the show, not being part of it.

And it's terrifying to see how this is always overlooked, how his situation is romanticized. Like, there's talk that Bruce should have done better, that he shouldn't have let a kid take such risks, that if he loved him he wouldn't have let Dick be Robin...

What about his biological parents? Mary and John?

I firmly believe that his parents loved Dick, I really do. But I also think they are simply terrible parents.

Sure, at that time it was normal for children to work in circuses with their parents, for acrobats not to have safety equipment... But the Graysons were known for going further. For their extremely dangerous stunts.

And Dick trained that since he was 3 years old.

Even in the older comics, where it's not specified that he's been training since that age, even if it had been since he was 7 or 8, it's still horrible. He was a kid. He should have been among the children in the crowd, not up there risking his life.

Shit, his parents should have used a net just to have a chance of surviving, to live for their son.

Maybe the trapeze act was their way of showing love. Maybe it was all they knew. Maybe they just wanted to share their life with their son.

But still, Dick shouldn't have been exposed to that. What if he was the one who fell, not them? How would they live with it?

Also, what psychological consequences did Dick suffer? They are always attributed to Batman, but were they really due to his time with him?

Sure, being Robin meant doing your job well or dying... But being an acrobat did too.

Dick always lived with the thought that if he does something wrong, he will die, that someone he loves will die.

It's no wonder he's a perfectionist, as much of a "control freak" as Batman himself.

It would also explain many things, such as the type of response he has. When you face a dangerous life of constant stress, your body loses its ability to react normally to stress, even if it's because of small things like an exam or something even less important. Adrenaline is pumped anyway, because your body recognizes the situation as a survival situation... And it makes you addicted to adrenaline.

Damn, even his heart stopping in the last issue makes sense if we could connect the dots.

They're two totally separate things for two separate comics, I know. Just... Damn.

[karmavongrim]

Dear Father fanfic idea

DC x DP crossover fanfiction

Fanfic idea of Danny adopting everyone. He’s worse than Batman since he does it 200% deliberately with no age nor race restriction.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Absolutely fucking not.”

Yeah, nope. No way in hell was he, John mother-fucking Constantine going to let this happen. Only over his dead body, which might actually be the case by the end of the bloody day if they couldn’t come up with something else other than that. And he wasn’t going to change his mind no matter how much the kid currently gallivanting as a demi-god whined. Wasn’t that a news when he found out several months ago.

“Come on Constans, we both know he wouldn’t mind. Besides what else can we do, we’ve tried everything.” Captain Marvel pleaded with the older man as he gestured their surroundings.

It couldn’t be described as anything else other than apocalyptic. A complete fucking shitshow.

Apparently a prophecy of some kind came to fruition right under their bloody noses and they were left grasping straws to try and stop the end of the world from happening. If only-

“Call him or I’ll call him John! Your choice.” Pressed Marvel who was getting fed up with the magician’s nonsense but he wasn’t bugging, no siree!

“Shut up, we don’t need his help! Just let me-” John yelled while buried head first in his spell book, desperately trying to find away that didn’t require him to relinquish the last few pits of his shabby dignity. Or what was left of it anyways. But Marvel was having non of it.

“Nope, that’s it! I’m making the call!” The red glad man shouted over the blonde brit and pulled out his personal phone which looked like it had been pulled strait out of a sci-fi movie.

This caused John to lunge at Marvel who in return floated away out of his reach.

“Are you daft? I’ll never hear the end of it so don’t even- Hey! Don’t you dare, I swear-!” They were quickly interrupted by a black looming silhouette quickly approaching them.

“I hope that you two have come up with something since you’re able to play around like this.” Batman demanded in gruff manner, man looking worse for wear just like the rest of them. Marvel swiftly positioned the dark one between him and his would-be assailant.

“Oh we did have a solution from the very start but someone thinks that we don’t need any help. His poor ego wouldn’t be able to handle it.” He told as he threw a look over his makeshift barrier’s shoulder.

“Shut your cakehole.” John hissed but was reluctantly put in place by a hard glare from mister darker and gloomier who turned to the floating magic-user.

“What is this solution exactly? Help from who or what?” At his inquiry the boy-man hero couldn’t help but beam when he began to explain what, or rather who he had in mind.

“Well I was thinking calling our-” But he was rudely cut in before he could get far.

“We aren’t calling anybody because we don’t need his help! We can take care of this on our own!” Batman turned back to the blond and was clearly at the end of his patience.

“We are running on borrowed time Constantine, if there is any chance to for us to stop this then we should take it since we don’t have any other options left.”

The two began to argue so heatedly that they didn’t pay attention to Marvel speed dialing the number he kept close to his heart. With a dopey grin he bounced on his heels while he waited for the other side to answer. After just two rings the line connected.

“Hi kid! What are you calling in for, did you get out of work already?” A jovial, baritone voice rang out which instantly relaxed the kid-not-kid hero. The all-composing feeling of warmth, protection and safety could almost be felt through the phone which never failed to make him feel comfortable and at peace.

“Hi dad! No, I’m still at work and we kinda shorta need your help. Badly.”

He could near feel the change in his father’s mood and he definitely heard it in his voice.

“What do you need? Where are you?” Came the rapid questioning. His smile never left as he thought how dad always went strait to business when it came to his family and friends. Always ready to help no matter what or why.

“Well, apparently the apocalypse is happening and we have no idea how to stop it… Can you help us? Please?” He tentatively asked as he glanced back at the bickering duo. Sometimes he asked himself if he really was the only secret child there.

“Ha ha, no need to beg, let alone ask. I’ll be there in a jiffy once I know where you guys are. Just try and hang in there kid.” Voice on the other side commented in lighter tone.

Marvel let out a sigh. He knew that everything would be okay after all.

“Thanks dad. We are currently stuck on Metropolis in it’s central, it’s a complete mess in here.”

“Everything will be fine. See you soon.” The voice chuckled and cut the call.

Yes, everything would be just fine. He turned to call out to the idiots who looked to be near ripping each other a new one.

“You two can stop now, he’s already on his way!”

He had to wince at the speed which the blonde turned his head to stare at him. Then came the familiar cursing.

“Fucking shite!”

He merely rolled his eyes and crossed his arms in irritation. He glared at the magician.

“Seriously, what’s your problem? It doesn’t have to be this difficult you know.”

Before John could comment, Batman pushed pass and stalked up to Marvel.

“Who did you call?”

He couldn’t say much before more of their fellow heroes started to trickle in. Flash no surprise being the first.

“Hope you got something up your utility belt Bats, we can’t take this much longer.” Pleaded the red speedster. He was joined by Green Lantern carrying injured Superman and ouch did he look roughened up.

“Have to agree with Flashpoint. Were running out of juice fast, and even Big Blue is out cold.”

Marvel looked at the others coming in. Martian Manhunter, Zatara, Wonder Woman, Black Canary and even Doctor Fate was there, none of them looking any better.

“Well, I’m glad to announce that help is on their way so we can all sit back and relax for a bit. This will be over in no time.” He declared brightly.

The others goggled at him like he made the most outlandish statement in all of history, minus Constantine who has decided to use this small window of calm to drown his headache in his flask while he still can.

“What the hell are you on about? What help? Who could possibly help with this!” Flash yelled out the question in everybodies mind.

“I would like to known this too finally.” Batman demanded this as well.

Seeing everybody hanging onto his up coming explanation he smirked at John who gave him oh-so-eloquently middle finder in retaliation. Well to bad, he would have to just deal with it, the big baby.

“Oh nobody too important, just the most powerful and influential being in all multiverse. Some of you might know him by his monikers like the First Champion, the Balancer, the High King and the Great One.” He said flippantly as he pretended to check his nails, trying his absolute best to hid his smug smile when he noticed Zatara and Fate going rigid and pale.

Zatara near stumbled thanks to his shaking knees. He took couple faltering steps towards the Champion of Magic. His expression mix of reverence and fear as started to whisper as if dreading that someone or something might hear him if he spoke too loudly.

“Y-You couldn’t possibly mean King-”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence for they all felt the change in the air, in the ground.

He has arrived.

Time came to a crawl, the world slowed it’s movements in face of approaching force. It quaked, it trembled, it slithered. Leak becoming a downpour, a tear in reality of sickly green opened above the group, high out of reach. What little light still had remained in the hellish landscape around them were drained as if all the world’s shadow congregated around the opening to greet its master like a deprived servant. Then a figure of black and white caped in light seemingly holy, descended from it. Even from afar they could distinguish their towering form who’s muscles failed to hide under its full-body armor. Their mountainous presence becomes more and more apparent the closer they came. What they thought as wings of pure and white was actually a cape of moving light.

Blazing green eyes as that of the tear gazed upon them from under their moonlight hair, which coupled with the iron grown of flames created figures of shadow dancing across their hardened features as if to praise their beholder’s glory.

Zatara had already collapsed on the ground in utter disbelieve. All the myths and legends were true all along.

“King Phantom.” He spoke in awe and bowed before the king as did equally shocked Doctor Fate.

“Hi dad!” Marvel yelled and dragged the laughing magician by his coat to greet their new arrival.

All of their associates looked between the clear powerhouse of a being and their red heavy hitter in utter incredulity at the revelation. Zatara and Fate near had a heart attack at the way their magical colleague addressed the mythical presence. Marvel had a father? And this horrifying existence was it? What sent them reeling even more was how the king’s responded.

With his arms stretched he lowered himself fully to gather the two smaller men in his embrace.

“Kids! Boy, when you said that you needed help bad I think you might have underestimated a tiny bit.” He joked with a toothy smile as he moved to get a better look at his more-or-less willing captees of his affection. His expression softened even more at the face of Constantine, not the others could see.

“John, it’s so good to see you as well.” He said softly and ruffled both of their hairs, eliciting a laugh from his youngest and indignant pout from his fourth oldest who tried to swat the offending hand away.

“Whatever.” John growled but Phantom didn’t mind since he could see the blush caking his scratched up cheeks.

Now this drew his attention, both of his boys were in horrendous shape and he would do something about it after his job was completed. Looking at the blood willed sky no longer colored by his green and the burning wreckage that is this dimensions earth, he knew he didn’t have much time.

“I suppose we should get this over with then. You two better get back to the Keep after this, understood.” He stated and then was gone just like that.

Now that the oppressive feeling of death and power has left along with the godly being, every single one of the heroes present turned to the two for explanation. Marvel send a pleading look towards his brother, but John pointedly turned away and began to nurse his briefly forgotten drink which was now empty, damn you dad.

Discreetly gulping his nerves down he twirled to face his peers.

“Okay, let’s start with one question at a time please.”

This caused the floodgates to open and Zatara practically jumped him in his feverishness.

“You are a son of King Phantom? The King Phantom? I thought he was nothing more than a myth! A legend told through out several histories!”

As Marvel was trying to dislodge the man he was approached by Doctor Fate.

“I too held the believe that he was nothing more than a story to strike fear onto the forces of evil and to aspire heroes of both old and new. To think he was real this entire time.” He mused, and before Marvel could say anything, Flash barged in as well.

“And what about you John? This might be the first time I’ve seen any otherworldly being be happy to see you.” He pointed at the man who chose to wisely stay far behind.

“Fuck you too!” Shouts the offended man from the back. Even if it’s true doesn’t make it any less rude. And oh look here comes Batman.

“Enough! Marvel, explain.” He demands as he moves effortlessly to the front of the pack.

“Well… you see-” Marvel stammers as he tries under the pressure to come up with something to say but was thankfully saved by the sky shifting again.

As quick as a snap the red sky was returned to its blue color, signaling the King’s victory over his enemy. Marvel smiled widely and even John couldn’t stop a heavy sigh of relieve from escaping his mouth. Good old dad, always up to any task he comes across.

“Incredible.” Wonder Woman gasped, even Lantern had to give an impressed eyebrow at the instant change in atmosphere. And while everyone was distracted by his dad’s handiwork, Marvel shimmied his way to the grumpy magician who was in progress of making his getaway.

“I think we should continue this some other time, there’s a lot of cleaning up to do and me and my bro need to do a little house call. So bye!” He called out with a wave as he was crabbed and transported to their destination before anyone could stop them.

Others could do more than blink as Batman stewed in his place. In Lantern’s arms Superman began to stir.

“H-huh, what did I miss?”

[wetpussyju1ce]

the smallest Omega in town takes on the biggest Alpha.

+18 mdni

Alpha!König x Omega!fem reader

note: reader is described as skinny. small wrists and bony knees. shorter than the 141.

John's pack was known to be extremely loyal and fiercely protective over each other. They were nice though, friendly and liked to mingle with other packs and families in the village.

They were also extremely close to each other and in tune with each other's needs. And that's how the pack found out that König, their big, awkward Alpha, needed a bit of help when it came to ruts.

He usually spends them alone, much to his packs disagreement over those arrangements because it can't be good for you, it can't! Then they decided to take matters into their own hands and try to find König a rut partner. It was a very serious matter for them, they coaxed König out of details and descriptions about what he likes. They know he doesn't really have a preference if they're Alpha, Omega or Beta. So that's a good start.

He likes them pretty, soft around the edges and smaller than him, which could be literally anyone in the whole village considering his sheer size.

And that was about it.

So Johnny, Kyle, Simon and John went to work. Looking for willing unmated wolves to spend König's ruts w him. Surprisingly it was easy to find willing partners, they know König, have seen him around and the idea of being impaled on his knot was attractive to quite a few of them.

But the real problem started when König asked for a try-out, before his rut hits, because he knows that a knot of his size could be considered a weapon. And he doesn't want to feel the rejection and hurt during his rut when he realises his partner can't take him, or are scared of hurting.

So they accepted, all of them, pretty Alphas, shy Omegas and tiny Betas.

And it didn't go well, they all believed it could be achievable, like how big can he really be? Body-horror big, apparently because what the fuck.

Oh and König knew to anticipate this. The gods made a joke out of him when building him in his mother's womb. They gave him everything it was to be a perfect Alpha, and gave him the biggest knot that no Omega, or Alphsa/Beta could take. It was ridiculous.

He lost hope and decided to busy himself with rut preparations, stocking up one of their many cottages deep in the forest, away from everyone.

His pack was sad for their sweet Alpha, it pulled at their heart to smell his upset scent. he scented sad and defeated and they really wanted to try harder, to make it all better.

it got to a point where they had no idea what more could they do because obviously nobody could take his knot without causing themselves injuries. and their Alpha can't be alone forever, surely??? I mean, that's a bit dramatic but he obviously craved that type of connection and bond with someone. he can't knot his fist and someone's thighs, forever, it wasnt enough!

and when all hope seemed lost their doorbell rang.

and there she was. the tiniest Omega they've ever seen. well, she wasnt that small, but compared to them, she sure as hell was, dainty and skinny too, bony knees and tiny wrists. she was standing there, wearing a pair of shorts, boots and a t-shirt under a flannel, she looked like she just finished gardening, dirt stuck to her knees and caking her boots.

"Hello?" Simon greeted, confused.

"Is König in?" She asked, looking up at the taller man.

"No, why?" Simon raised a brow.

"Oh and I'm here for the rut partner try-out, thing. if that's still happening." She said, shrugging, all casual.

Simon's mind screeched to a stop, did she say try-outs?? is that how everyone in the village saw it as?? what in the hell??

"What the hell are you talking about?" Simon said, utterly confused.

"What? Did he find someone?" She tilted her head to the side, confused.

"No, no-- Just, what makes you think you can take his knot? You're fucking tiny." Simon went straight to the point.

She smiled, kind and unbothered, "I know he's big, I heard all sorts of things, but I believe I can help, and if it works, I'd also like an arrangement out of it, a heat partner if he'd be willing."

Simon feels like he should slam the door on her face. Just to save her guts from absolute and sure destruction by König's cock because no way in hell would she be able to take him. but then the Omega looks sure of herself. not cocky. just looks friendly and honest and she looks ready to help.

Simon maybe should have asked her to save her guts and go away but he doesn't. he let's her in, not knowing that she has spent years of her heats trying to shove as much of her toys inside her as possible. she doesn't even mention the fact that she ends up fisting her cunt every heat cycle. or when she has a heat partner w a knot, that knot ends up inside her alongside a toy at the same time.

the Omega ends up meeting König, says she would like to help. he disagrees at first because he's not in the mood to take her to the hospital, he really really doesn't want to hurt her. but then she begs him to trust her w the sweetest face he's ever seen, lets him scent honesty all over her and he agrees to give her a chance.

König n the Omega end up talking abt gardening and the sellers at the market and the prices these days. they quickly bond over growing vegetables and their shared dislike for that one guy that sells strawberries and swears that they're that naturally huge (and they're not even sweet, what the hell??)

they agree on a date, and a time, they would try to see how it goes before König's rut hits, and if everything goes alright, they'll spend it together.

when they meet, König's weary, she's not, calm and happy as a clam. she asks him to trust her, and it starts off easy, she holds his hands and König shivers because his are literally giant mitts compared to hers. she sweet talks him into relaxing, she sits on his lap and they start talking a little, then she goes ahead and kisses him and he realises very quickly that he likes that, he really does, her lips taste sweet and her scent is so sweet and delicious.

König's alpha quickly realises that this may actually work and he gets excited in record time, tents his trousers and gets his mouth on her tits, it takes no time for her to start leaking like a broken faucet. König's hand are slippery between her legs and he's about to pass out at the intensity of it all. she's everywhere around him and all he can do is suck on her breasts and purr.

then he gets a finger inside her tight and warm hole. it's wet and feels soft. then another goes next. and another. all the while she's making all sorts of noises, clawing at him, and the more fingers he can push inside her the more he's awed and amazed because for someone so tiny and fragile, she sure as hell can take so much inside her.

König wants a better view so he gets her on the bed, laying on her back and absolutely hammers his fingers inside her cunt, watching her stomach bulge everytime he drives his fingers in.

he's about to lose his mind at the sight alone, and then she cries, squeals and squirts all over his hand and arm.

König then gathers her in his arms, chest to chest, gets his arms under her legs, as they're pressed against her body, practically folding her in half, carrying all of her weight in his massive arms like she was just a doll to him, and finally dips the head of his cock between her pussy lips. he starts to push further in and she's moaning, clawing at his neck, he gets halfway in and he's sweating bullets because she's so tight and she's pulsing around him and yet, he knows she can take more. and he was right because he keeps dropping her on his length until it's all inside, to the root, and she wails, comes again, shaking in his arms and König is losing his mind, his knot swelling in record time. when he comes, he's dizzy and he's heaving like he ran a marathon and he hasn't even thrusted inside of her just yet.

they make all sorts of noises when fucking. it's animalistic. König sounds like he's about to pass out and the Omega sounds like that's what she's been waiting for all of her life. It was filthy, intense and so fucking loud that when Gaz was sent to check on them, as they used one of the many cottages John's pack owns, the moment the smell hits his nose, he freezes and turns back around, he does not want to be anywhere near them if that's how potent their combined scent is.

at least he knows they're having a great time. so he goes back, well, more like runs back to the house, a little bit scared and excited because finally their Alpha got to knot someone!

and when all that's said and done, and the Omega and alpha come back to the shared house the next day. König is out of it, nothing but statics behind his eyes while the Omega looks content, eats everything she's offered by König's pack, starved. but winces once in a while when she moves in a certain way. she scents happy, and König scents confused but content nonetheless. and that's everything his pack wished for.

[qqueenofhades]

I really really REALLY need to see more people makimg the connection between trump and his russian handlers tbh.......like i know we've somehow gone through the looking glass of putin apologia but that piece abt the NYT you just posted, the bots, the interference: in the bag for trump? Yes. But i dont believe its due to his or even republican power or popularity or forcefulness.......this is a man with so much debt and kompromat thats only getting worse!! Not to sound kwazy BUT WE ARE BEING FULLY INFLITRATED and at the risk of conspiracizing i think the russians are ALSO behind the Times's demise along with so many other information centers etc. Like i KNOW these leftists love him but like. Wouldnt they care a LITTLE abt being manipulated like this???

Trump is 100% an active, willing, and eager Russian agent. That's not even paranoid conspiracy theory, that's just the only reasonable interpretation of the facts:

NOT TO MENTION that in the next two years after the Helsinki conference where Trump kowtowed to Putin in every way, the CIA admitted to losing huge and unusually high numbers of classified informants around the world (not CIA agents, but people secretly working for the American government in often-hostile countries):

Once again, this all happened when Trump was in office, when he was actively handing over CIA intel to the Kremlin against the wishes of the entire national security establishment, and which other experts have suggested was directly as a result of Trump handing over the identities of American informants to Russia, including those stationed in Russia itself:

Now, I could go on, but you get the point. Not to mention that Trump just lost a major UK-based lawsuit against Christopher Steele, the former MI6 agent who was the first to provide documents linking Trump to Russia in the controversial "Steele dossier":

And now: Trump is deeply in hock for hundreds of millions in legal fees and punitive judgments that are only increasing by the day, he somehow just came up with $90 million to appeal the judgment against E. Jean Carroll (nobody knows where he got this money either), and Russian state TV spends all their time openly salivating for Trump's return to the presidency (so he can hand over Ukraine and the rest of NATO and, as he literally said, "let Russia do whatever the hell they want.") I know we're largely numb to all the awful treasonous shit that Trump does, but like. This isn't a conspiracy theory, this is just what's going on in plain sight, and while the Online Leftists have recently become so stupid that I honestly can't tell if it's just terminal brainworms or active Russian psyops, it's strongly indicated that it is in fact a mix of both:

So, like. Just some food for thought.

[seamstraw]

things I noticed on a rewatch of thunderbolts:

in the elevator shaft, when they realize that they don’t have a way to reach the door safely, bob mutters that he always makes things worse. ouch.

the first time yelena asks bob if he trusts her, he's sort of ambivalent/unwilling to respond. but this is pretty soon after bob just saw yelena's shame room, in which yelena gets anya killed. not her fault, of course, but not exactly a good first impression for trusting someone either.

valentina wears an american flag pin on her suit when sitting before congress (which I did notice on my first viewing), but this time I also noticed she takes it off when going to clear out the O.X.E. warehouse. nice touch.

bob is twitching like CRAZY as sentry—his eyes, his mouth—I’m impressed by the actor. I'm assuming this is meant to reflect a manic episode? he's also hella shaky in the vault, but that kinda checks out for anyone with three people pointing guns at you regardless of mental health status.

ava grabbing bucky's arm, and alexei and john working together to drag him into the elevator... my heart. also, everyone's faces when valentina orders bob to kill them? the way they get defensive of each other even though they know for certain he could obliterate them in an instant? my heart x2.

the first time I watched, I found alexei’s humor too forced. bad marvel humor at serious moments, like thor: love and thunder. but this time, I interpreted it more as him trying too hard to connect with yelena but not knowing how to do it in a serious way. as he says in their heart-to-heart, he’s not very good at this sort of thing.

I’ve seen people say that walker stops calling bob “bobby” after hearing his father call him that, but only yelena heard that. walker just hears “robert.” also, walker calls bob “bobby” in the lab too.

valentina's "bad guys and worse guys" speech is still great. but. mel. mel, mel, mel. cannot believe you're still asking valentina if she's trying to do good things. do you not remember her housewarming present. and the medical experiments that killed people. and the everything else valentina.

bucky is probably boggling inside of the shame rooms. I thought we were here to beat this guy up? but now we're defending him? getting beat up by his past self on meth? hugging the depression out of him? alright. going with the flow.

walker flipping the table is what pops open the storage box bob is in... kinda curious about what would've happened if bob never got released. I guess the other three would all die, either to each other or in the incinerator (since bob's sudden appearance stopped the fight), and then bob would wake up alone in the ashes? or maybe the other three would actually escape, except sans bob? but tbh even if they make it out of the incinerator, I suspect they die either with no way to get up the elevator or trying to drive away without a distraction.

ava doesn't have a whole ton of lines, but her body language in the background is great. props to the actor. even when she's not the focus of a scene, you can tell how she feels.

have seen claims in powerscaling reddit posts (yes, I know) that bob caught ava during the fight by anticipating where she was going to un-phase and using superspeed. but after he grabs her, she blurs in and out a few times and still can't escape. seems like sentry can manipulate molecules or some shit.

sentry’s outfit has grown on me a little. I actually like all the lines and stuff, the belt just throws me off because it’s so. big. and the logo is so. prominent. idk.

initially thought bob's memory loss extended all the way to the vault. am now thinking his memory loss probably starts after he gets shot? he knows who walker is, but he doesn't recognize valentina's face. would line up with activating his powers -> memory loss.

realized that valentina in the finale probably spots bob and is like "wtf. wtf. wtf." last time she saw this guy was floating in the sky going evil and then she got forced to relive her dad's murder twenty times. time before that was this guy pinning her against a wall and choking her to death. now he's in a fucking oversized sweater and clapping at the press conference.

the new avengerZ sponsored by tide. and like ten other companies. lmfao.

[incesthemes]

in provenance, the impala is depicted as quite dirty and beat-up, scuffed up and covered in mud. this is not the typical image that comes to mind when you say a man loves his car. in later seasons too, the impala tends to look shiny and new, and dean is seen performing maintenance on it pretty regularly—at least, there are many scenes that show dean taking care of it, and there are also many scenes which touch on dean's possessiveness and care for his car.

this isn't the case in season 1. season 1 dean has a beat-up hand-me-down from his dad which he loves and admires but is still willing to let it get dirty and dented and scuffed.

in season 1, the impala represents john.

based on how john talks about the car in dead man's blood, he still has a semblance of ownership over it: john gave dean the car, but he still considers it "his" in the sense that he feels entitled to judge how dean cares for it. dean, too, doesn't argue with this. in season 3, dream dean even uses this against real dean to drag out his insecurities and his abysmal self-esteem:

both john and dean agree that the impala is john's car. this makes sense because the impala is also sam and dean's literal home, or the closest to home they've ever gotten.

you have a good "home is where the heart is" kind of connection here: the impala is home, and john is the impala—john is home, john is their father, john is the thing that connects sam and dean by blood. et cetera et cetera.

so if the impala represents john, then how dean treats the impala gives the audience a lovely visual metaphor for how dean feels about john. provenance is just one episode after something wicked, where dean is finally starting to extricate himself from his father. the entire season has followed dean as he experiences betrayal after betrayal from his father, and in shadow we see evidence that he doesn't actually believe that his father will come to protect them anymore—he's effectively given up on john as someone to rely on, and he's spent the whole season separating himself from john and attaching himself to sam instead. provenance gives a nice wink and nod at this by showing the state of the impala—dean is upset with john, their relationship is crumbling, and dean doesn't know how to repair it.

one episode later john remarks on the state of the car, and one episode later dean finally defies his father for seemingly the first time.

so when dean starts destroying the impala in everybody loves a clown, what dean is actually destroying is john.

he feels angry, upset, hurt, betrayed all over again. john is dead, and his final words to his son gave him an impossible task. dean takes the crowbar to the impala right after sam corners him into another conversation about john—this is an outpouring of his emotions about him, all concentrated on the last remaining symbol of his father.

but what i think is interesting is that sam doesn't see the impala this way.

sam sees the impala as dean. the symbolism here is very, very obvious. if sam gives up on the impala, then he's metaphorically giving up on dean. and sam refuses to let dean die, so he can't let the impala die, either. to sam, the impala is dean. which necessarily means that to sam, dean is his home, as well.

which is exactly what he just chose in the season 1 finale when he picked dean over his revenge. sam spent the entire season scared to "go home," and in devil's trap he finally returns for good to his home—to dean.

and in bloodlust, the impala is fixed, and she's shining like new. from this moment on, dean shows a rather pointed possessiveness over his car.

this is also the first time dean calls the impala "baby." this is the first thing that happens after dean destroyed it in the episode prior. the dissonance gives a sense of rebirth: something happened between dean destroying the impala and dean fixing it. something happened between dean using the impala as a stand-in for his father and dean calling it his baby.

in season 2, the impala no longer represents john. john is dead, and dean killed him. "home" is no longer centered around john; their father is no longer the thing that connects sam and dean. in devil's trap they chose each other, they chose codependency, they created a relationship between them that transcends the family structure they inherited from john. john is not part of this new relationship—it's just sam and dean now, and john is dead.

dean assimilates to sam's perspective when he rebuilds the impala: his car is now an extension of himself, and he is the home that sam chose. this is now his car, not john's; he is now sam's family, not john. and throughout the first half of season 2 dean struggles with this new responsibility and what that means for him—how their codependency should work, whether or not he should try to fill john's shoes, what "home" is supposed to look like for them without john in it.

i think it's an interesting way to depict dean's emotional shift across this stretch of episodes. seasons 1 and 2 especially do a lot of great work to depict john even in his physical absence, from allegorical substitutes to his haunting presence to this, representing him through the symbol of their literal home. noticing this makes me much more emotional about the impala's role in the story, because it's a physical manifestation of the effort dean put in to become sam's home and commit to their codependent relationship. he loves his car because it's his home, and his home is where sam and dean's hearts are.

[flowerfreya]

Repercussions

The next part in the office AU

Masterlist

Content: Readers ex boyfriend tries to win her back( does not go well ) and then she discovers she has a crush on all four of them *gasp*

Pairing : poly!141 x reader

If have any thing you want to see from this group of people, please let me know. Lowkey running out of ideas lol

Price, Soap, and Ghost stand in front of the room where you were just taken. “She’s just trying to get attention”, he shifts his gaze to Price, “You know what I mean?”, he raises his eyebrows in a know what I mean motion. 

Price is not amused ,“No, I don't know what you mean”.

“Maybe you need to take a walk”, Soap says. He tries to guide him to entrance but your ex is  a glutton for punishment. 

“No,she a bitch, she used me as a gold digger”,he spits out, waving his arms and yelling and honestly embarrassing himself. 

“Mate, you need gold in order for that to happen”, Simon is trying to move him away from the door but he is very persistent. 

“You take another step it will be your last in this building” 

He slowly turns around, “You can’t do that, there's a process”, he smirks, thinking that he’s won. 

“Oh I know the process, we have been doing the process”, he lists all the things that your ex-boyfriend has been doing or in this case, not doing. 

Price has always had a problem with your ex boyfriend, they hired him on a whim and they needed a body. They had hoped that he would have no call , no show and they could help him but alas , he very very sadly persisted. He started fucking up almost four months ago, showing up late leaving early , taking long lunches. Price had finally found his in. He’s been putting in the work with Kyle to fire him, that when he brought you in for an interview. 

Price knew that men like him , took out his frustration on the women in his life because that's just the man he is. So he put a pause on it, you didn’t deserve that. When he got that call from Simon that you had called asking for help he knew that it was a sign.

~ 

Your ex is still moaning and bitching about you, then he says something that makes you not care. 

“Oh shut the fuck up” , you yell at him and walking out the backroom. He’s shocked that you responded, you're usually very passive in this , thinking it’s easy to agree then to argue. He starts stuttering, not used to this from you. 

“Uh -u -u -u” , you mock him. You get close to him so tired of just taking it. You’re so done with him. 

“Nothing to say?” , you ask him. He looks around like one of your guys are going to help but he finds none. 

“Can you do me favor and just fucking go?” ,you're so pissed that you let yourself get to this level, this sad sad place, where knowing that you need better, that you deserve better but just staying. Settling. 

He tries to change tactics with you, “Baby, please you know that I’m sorry, I messed up please forgive me”, he gets tears in the corner of his eyes. 

You scoff, “You know you caused this , you decided to leave me here and be a jerk when I asked you to pick me up”, you pause and wait for him to respond and he has nothing to say. 

“We are done, over, never getting back together, wrap your brain around that”. 

He tries to say something else but John cuts him off and leads( pushes) him toward the exit. 

Once he’s out the door, you kind of deflate when you no longer see him. Kye places his hand on your shoulder, “Alright?”, you want to go home and curl into a ball and drink dessert wine still your stomach hurts. 

“Can I go home?”, you don’t make eye contact with him even though you know that he is trying to connect with you. You can’t do life today and being with all of them today is going to be too much. You are single for the first time in a very long time and you have a crush on your boss ... .and coworker ... .and your other coworker… and your HR rep. How do you go from hating your only romantic partner to having a crush on four people? 

[tacitusk1llwhore]

I saw a really interesting post about Abigail and Arthur’s relationship and the journal entry where he talks about marrying her. While a lot of people see this as a marriage of convenience, I personally see it a little differently! (Don’t worry, I don’t think they were in love at any point!!)

I think the farthest their relationship could/would go during this is a platonic connection that borders on romantic at times, but not because they have romantic feelings for one another. Personally, I believe that with how at ease Abigail is with Arthur and better yet how at ease Jack is with him in the events of the game, Arthur has probably played a big role in Jacks life, ESPECIALLY in the time John was gone. With John gone, there wouldn’t be any guilt of being a surrogate father (the whole “I ain’t the one takin’ Jack on fishin’ trips.” conversation during that one mission, their little squabbles over it in camp interactions too).

Arthur would, in my mind, absolutely step into that role, especially with how he talks about how lucky John is. I think it would be hard to separate feelings, truthfully. Abigail is watching this man take care of her son, whose father is god knows where, seeing a male figure love and provide for her and her son for the first time, probably in her whole life, something she wished John would do for the two of them—(Arthur continues to do this in-game, fishing trip, storybooks, candy, even giving money for new clothes)— and Arthur is seeing this as a second chance of sorts, his way to protect and provide, to do what he couldn’t do for who he lost.

That’s where the issue comes in though…they don’t love each other like that—but at the same time, they feel that connection because they both are using one another to fill a void of some sort. For Abigail, she’s being taken care of, her son is being taken care of, she had a strong male presence not out to manipulate or sleep with her for the first time, and Arthur gets the family that he lost: a good, strong woman and a child.

They both see what can be: her and Arthur a couple, him a father to Jack but can’t force themselves to be that—to truly want that because they don’t, not with each other at least. I think that maybe just maybe they tried it, even toyed with the idea of something at some point in time that John was gone for that reason alone. But with John back, Abigail had to face the reality of the man she truly loved being back (even if he is a deadbeat at the time), and Arthur had to face the fact that Jack isn’t his, he’s not Isaac, and Abigail isn’t Eliza. With the main factor to separate them and give them clarity back in the picture, I think the pair would finally realize this fact and go back to being strictly platonic because any romance that did happen was out of this mutual need to fill a void, not a desire to be with one another if that makes sense. But Arthur seeing that John STILL treats them poorly, the marriage entry makes sense.

The wishing that he could’ve forced himself to marry her, to push through the conflicting emotions and the fact that he didn’t really love her like that—so that he knew that she and her son would be provided for, because at the end of the day he does love both of them, just not in the way that he wants to, and vice versa. Looking into their relationship is so interesting to me.

That’s my hot take for today. That’s all!

[meraki-sunset]

so your crow strider au gave me inspiration for my own au, but i've built up the idea in my brain so much that now im scared to try to put it to paper (oops) did you ever deal with this while making crow strider? (and if you did, how you got over it would be much appreciated thanks fhdjks) also your art is cool :]

Hi, sure, i encountered a few blocks when writing CSAU and other projects. I think my method comes down to a couple rules

You need to know how the story ends from the start, so everything in the story leads to the end. Things can change about the contents of the story as you write it and you change your mind about the events that will transpire in it, but you need an end goal you can build your story towards. Most importantly, this is what allows you to add foreshadowing for said ending and structure the narrative in a clear direction. Otherwise, you might come up with a cool ending too late and regret some choices from past chapters that now don’t help this new ending you want

On that same note (and i’ll proceed to copy and paste from an old post) You need to have a Word document with a rough timeline of the events from start to finish. You need to know how it ends from the beginning and how they get there. It can be really, really vague, but it has to be there. It can go like

. They start the game, the trolls bother them.

.both games go to hell

.scratch

.trip, develop relationships

.new set of kids/teen drama

.old kids they get there

.to hell again

.John retcons everything

.new timeline

.they win

And that's homestuck simplified, Those are your Acts. With them, you will know where you're going and if you need to change something earlier. Everything will be constantly up to change of course, but you will be going from point A to point Z more easily.

From there, you go to every point in that list and create a Word document for all of them. I have them in different folders to have every act separated and in order.

A folder for each Doc for every Act, Numbered, and in each one make more lists like that one telling what happens, for example

WordDoc1 - ACT 1 "They start the game, the trolls bother them"=

.John needs to get his game

.introduce Rose

.introduce the trolls on pester chats

. John gets the game

.introduce Dave

.etc

And those are your chapters. Now you can know the extent of what you want to do and if it makes any sense.

I addition to that, every Folder can contain not only the Word document for the Act but also relevant texts and art that are connected to the Act, so evey folder is all about that specific act and any inspiration for it.

Another piece of advice I can give you is to hint at anything important. That's a rule of comedy; actually, the comedian usually closes the show with something related to the first things they said.

That works for everything, and makes people go, "Oh the thing! The meaningless thing they said earlier, it was a clue all along!"

Interconnect it like a web, and that web will stop the story from falling

Homestuck is so ridiculously interconnected that you lose track of the stuff and objects that repeat that have no way to be where they got to be, songs and people and events that are too similar to not be connected but nobody addresses, things like that make it feel like you're dealing with a universe and not just a line of events.

3. Yet another thing, it's something I'm still trying to assimilate, and is that less is more, sometimes things don't need to be said, specialy not bluntly, and an expression, a gesture, a flinch can summarize them. Backgrounds can be reduced, and ideas can be conveyed.

one example is, In homestuck, it's never said that Dave was raised with lack of food. He never sais it, but it's shown in how happy he was to find a warm bottle of juice in his closet, how there is only weapons on the kitchen and no sign of food, how he later sais he never learned what the purpose of a fridge was until he saw it on tv. If someone is lacking something, don't have them say, "i grew up without X thing" show what filled that space in the absence of X thing.

Instead of some character saying, "My dad was never there for christmas" have them say how they thrited for presents at the local goodwill, payed with their lawn mowing money and put the presents under the tree themselves for their siblings and mom.

4. Something that I always have in mind when writing the dialogs and sketching the scenes, is

"I have an idea; what's the easiest way for someone to get the idea, to get the feelings i want to transmit from the idea?" I made the art something I could handle drawing hundreds of times, simplified the coloring, the aspect symbols, the way I draw backgrounds, the way I write dialogs, etc.

That will save you time and work and could prevent you from getting stuck with a project too big to handle

5. This is the most important one: The first draft’s only purpose is to exist.

Writing is like playing darts sometimes; you only get closer to hitting the center by missing it and learning what not to do. That’s an actual rule on animation and a motto on the Disney office. “Get it wrong as quick as you can,” because when you learn what you’re doing wrong is when you start learnign what doing it right means.

If it helps, title your first draft “the dumb version,” because that’s what it is—the version to get the idea out of your head, and then you built over it.

On the same note, once you write "the dumb version" don’t correct it. Rewrite it. It’s annoying, I know, i know, but fixing and fixing a text only carries the mistakes from the first draft, and everything looks kind of disconnected, because it ends up being a Frankenstein text of all the versions of the story mixed together.

This also applies to art; that’s how I handle both writing and drawing; if it’s not working, hold onto the core idea, new page, restart.

Rewriting it puts it in perspective; it feels like a text of its own, with a clear intent in mind.

I think that’s all I have. Making a story is mostly about managing your strengths and weaknesses, organizing and not being scared of it not being perfect.

Hope this helps.

[kellykadesperate]

Please can you do ‘I told you, I love you what’s the big deal. Maybe Aaron to Robert?

“I told you I love you. What’s the big deal?” 

They’re in bed when it happens. Aaron is on top of him, laughing into a kiss and he just says it and it makes Robert tense for the briefest of seconds. He ignores it, they roll around and make each other feel good for the next hour and then they’re lying next to each other. 

Aaron has his head right in the crook of Robert’s neck and a hand running up and down Robert’s back the way Robert used to like. It’s weird this, the way they’ve just slipped back into roles and routines like nothing at all has changed. 

Aaron’s stopped staring at scars on Robert’s body, detailing them and committing them to memory. He’s stopped looking sad whenever Robert’s knee goes a little and he says ‘old injury’ instead of the way he was jumped and beaten with a metal pole right over his right knee for some twisted reason.

“You OK?” Aaron always seems to say it after sex now. He’s really asking if he’s hurt Robert, if there’s something he didn’t like, anything that was too rough.

Robert hates that. He hates the uncertainty between them now. It’s going to take a while until this all doesn’t feel like living in an alternative universe or something.

Robert nods his head. “Hmm.” He mumbles, he can feel himself being dragged into a nice sleep but then Aaron shifts a little on his elbows and places a hand over Robert’s heart.

“Why’d you tense earlier?” Aaron asks.

The years have led to many changes between them but Aaron’s directness is the most interesting one. He’s straight to the point. He doesn’t hide and let things fester. Robert’s certain that it has something to do with John, and all the times Aaron wished he said something and didn’t. 

Robert gulps hard against the question and takes Aaron’s hand in his, watches how they’re connected. His mind makes Aaron’s golden wedding band appear and he hates himself a little for it. 

“I did?”

“You know you did.” Aaron whispers. “Did I hurt you?” He asks.

Robert can’t have that. “No.” He kisses Aaron’s hand tenderly and it makes Aaron smile a little. Robert watches the blush grow all over his beautiful face. 

“Then what was it?” Aaron asks as Robert lets go of his hand. “What I said?” 

Robert looks away for a millisecond but Aaron picks up on. He looks so confused. Then he looks hurt and upset and Robert isn’t sure what he’s meant to do because it’s too late to say no.

“I told you I love you. What’s the big deal?” Aaron sits up a little straighter. 

Robert stares at his naked chest, up to his neck. There’s a small mark on the right side where Robert wouldn’t stop kissing him. There should be one right below his right ear too. Aaron buckled and moaned at that.

“Robert?” Aaron places a hand on Robert’s arm, and tries to get him back in the room.

Robert breathes in. “There’s no big deal.” He whispers.

“Should I not say that?” Aaron bites his lip and he looks so terrified. “Robert.” He whispers his name like a prayer, like he’s begging Robert to say something.

Robert breathes in. “You said. You said you’re so in love with me.” He looks down and feels so stupid it’s ridiculously. 

Aaron says absolutely nothing and there’s silence between them for a second until he opens his mouth to speak.

“Yeah. I am.” Aaron says. “Is that OK with you?” He crosses his arms over and looks genuinely cross.

Robert has to look down to stop from laughing. It makes Aaron slap his arm playfully. 

“Robert, you’re scaring me here.”

That’s new too. Aaron just says exactly how he’s feeling, all the time. Last week, they were eating lunch in the pub and Aaron just kissed Robert, licked right into his mouth like half his family weren’t also in the beer garden with them. Then he leant back and smiled, said he was happy and that was that.

“I’m not trying to. I’m sorry.” Robert holds Aaron’s face in his left hand and shudders. “You just haven’t said that, you know, in love, since we got back together.”

Aaron’s shoulders collapse just a little in relief or sadness. Robert can’t tell. 

“I just didn’t expect it.” Robert stammers the words out. “Of course I know you love me but – I don’t know, it’s just – it sounds like more when you say in love doesn’t it?” He knows because he made sure to say it when he first saw Aaron again, when he stormed his farce of a wedding. 

Aaron’s crying. Robert wipes the tears that fall from Aaron’s face and then he’s being kissed. Robert feels himself fall back against the pillows on their bed and then Aaron’s face is right in front of him as he opens his eyes.

“I have been in love with you since I was twenty two.” Aaron says, like he’s reading out facts of the world. “I’m sorry I made you think that wasn’t still true.”

Robert smiles. “You love me now? Who I am … now?”

That’s the thing, this is the real sticking point to all of this. He’s certain Aaron loved him once, and still loves him in general but this person he is now is different. He helps out on the farm, and he’s still not quite there with his own business and there’s still nights he hits out thinking he’s back inside. 

There’s not much to be in love with.

Robert doesn’t know how to communicate any of that but apparently Aaron understands completely. 

Aaron pulls a hand through Robert’s hair. “I am in love with you, now.” He says quietly, like he only wants Robert to hear, to know, to remember. “We’re both different.”

“You’re perfect.”

Aaron’s face lights up. “So are you.” Robert looks down and Aaron forces him to look back up, finger hooked on his chin as he pulls his face up. “I’m in love with everything about you, now. I promise.” 

Robert nods his head a little and then Aaron wraps his arms around him like he wants to shelter Robert from any other horrible thoughts.

They stay like that, Aaron’s face in the crook of Robert’s neck and Robert now running a finger over Aaron’s arm, for what feels like hours. Robert closes his eyes and falls into a gentle sleep only Aaron could have made possible.

[dragonsareverycool]

A Brothers Reunion

The small summoning circle lit up, casting a soft green glow, as two eyes watched it with weary hope.

——————————————————

Two demons argued violently about a soul, and Danny sighed from his spot on the throne that fully claimed him a month ago. While he still found it hilarious how thoroughly this guy managed to swindle so many of the high ranking demons, it had started to cross into annoying territory. Danny was seriously considering making a whole office dedicated specifically to hold all the paperwork one ‘John Constantine’ was seemingly generating with his very presence. Suddenly, Danny felt a soft tug on his core, much gentler then the summoning rituals of all those crazy cultists that keep popping out of nowhere used. More like the circles he gave to Sam Tucker or Jazz. But he could feel the summoner’s emotions, and the poor guy on the other end felt like he was about to cry.

Danny mentally went through everyone he’s given his personal line to. Then, he shot up and called for Fright Knight to send the demons away while Danny quickly allowed himself to be pulled through the summoning circle to where his brother waited anxiously.

——————————————————

The circle flared, and a large eldrich like figure quickly crawled through. Then, a very familiar voice muttered

“Man I wish these things weren’t so dramatic. I already scared the shit out of the justice league because of it” as the being’s form shifted to the more familiar form he took when seeing Damian for the first time in a decade. His white hair looked a little longer now, and his eyes a less toxic green.

“Danyal” Damian said stiffly. Danny looked up, making eye contact with Damian before responding

“Damian” in response Damian lunged, pressing a blade to Danny’s neck before asking a question only Danny could answer.

“What’s the last story you told me?” Danny simply smiled nostalgically,

“There’s the Damian I know. I told you about Canis Minor 16 days before I died the first time.” Damian heasitated before putting away his weapon and paused before he quickly started to hug Danny, who returned the hug.

“… first time?” Damian asked, still in Danny’s arms.

“Mother didn’t tell you what happened to me after, did she?” Danny asked into his twins hair. Damian didn’t even bother to say anything and just turned his head to look at Danny balefully, before Danny sighed and said

“Of course she didn’t. I was dunked into the Lazarus pits, before mother dropped me off in the middle of nowhere America, where she forbade me from ever talking about my old life or ever attempting to contact you.” Damian paused to process this, before saying

“And the second time?” Danny sighed at that, his face set into a grimace. Damian started to move, bringing Danyal over to his bed, where Danny realized Damian had summoned Danny in his room. Damian sat them both onto his bed, and curled further into Danny’s arms, while gesturing to continue.

“I was adopted by a couple who claimed to be ‘ectobiologists’ who already had an older daughter named Jazz. She’s my sister.” Damian nodded solemnly at that, mentally adding ‘Jazz’ to his list of siblings. Danny pulled out his brick of a phone and started showing Damian pictures of his adoptive parents, his sister and everything else as he spoke about it. “They’d been working on a project in their lab since before they adopted me, longer then they’re had Jazz even. When I was fourteen, they finally tried to turn it on. It failed. It was a portal to what they called ‘The Ghost Zone’, but that realm is much more. The Infinite Realms are the glue that holds all universes together, and its a kind of afterlife. They didn’t know half of that, only that some souls of humans who died stay there, and even then, they thought that these ghosts were only a husk of their former selves, and couldn’t feel pain.” Damian started to connect the dots at that and asked

“You’re one of these ghosts?” It was almost a statement, but Damian wasn’t going to make many assumptions. Danny nodded before continuing

“I had two friends who convinced me to show them the failed portal. I walked inside of the portal we assumed was completely defunct, and I tripped over one of the many wires on the floor. When I tried to stabilize myself, I hit the on button.” Damian’s eyes widened, and he froze while Danny paused. After a moment, Danny continued, saying “My adoptive parents had connected the portal to the towns power grid, and the portal opened up on top of me. Electricity and ectoplasm, what ghosts and the Infinite Realms are made of, clashed inside my body, killing me and reviving me repeatedly until the portal finally spit me back out. I only half died that day.” Danny put his phone away and focused on playing with Damian’s hair. Damian reveled in his brothers affectionate touch like when they were small.

“Half?” Damian asks after a minute or two.

“Half. I technically have several ghost forms, and I have a human form” Damian looked up from Danyal’s arms, his eyes asking the obvious question he was a little afraid to ask, though he’d never admit it. Danny smiled at the unasked question, and rings of light formed around him, before dissipating and revealing a very much alive eighteen year old Danyal Nightingale. He grabbed one of Damian’s hands and pressed it against his neck, allowing Damian to revel in feeling his former dead brother’s pulse. Damian tested Danny’s wrist, and put his ear against Danny’s now warm chest.

Damian will deny the appearance of tears to his death, but Danny didn’t say anything, he just held Damian closer. After a while Danyal started to talk about the stars. Filling the silence with quiet but passionate rambling about stars and space. It was familiar. It was safe and warm and then Richard ruined the moment by slamming open Damian’s door yelling about a ‘Family Game Night’ and got a knife for his troubles. Of course he dodged with practiced ease, but then he realized Damian wasn’t alone in his room. Time seemed to freeze at the stand off. Dick had frozen, as the joy on his face seemed to leach away at the realization that there was an intruder.