#John Downing

[undr]

John Downing. Blackpool Tower England. 1985

[babsi-and-stella]

Chrissie Shrimpton and Linda Keith photographed by John Downing, April 1967.

[davidhudson]

Graham Chapman, January 8, 1941 – October 4, 1989.

Photo by John Downing.

[bruciemilf]

As a reward for helping with a problem, John Constantine wants to give Bruce a chance to talk to his parents. “I can only do one at a time, thought, so, who’s first?”

Bruce sweats, “That won’t be necessary.”

The batkids watch like ??? they’ve seen Bruce in every state a man could succumb and raise, but they’ve never seen him scared. Alfred calmly steps forward, “Please do.”

“No. Don’t.”

John “I don’t want peace, I want trouble, always” Constantine smells some opportunity for chaos and grabs it.

The result of that is the very angry spirit of Thomas Wayne fixing Bruce with the glare of the year, “You dropped oUT OF MED SCHOOL?!” The entire mansion seems to tremble.

Bruce yelps like a scolded cat and runs around the dining table, “I was busy with BATMAN—“

“ Che cazzo è un Batman, — Get back here! You were there a year, — Che cazzo fai, CHE CAZZO FAI?! Pack your bags, you’re going back.”

To the batkids’ absolute horror Bruce starts to cry, face watery and bright, and they finally understand what Alfred meant by tantrums. “Non voglio tornare indietro, papà!”

“Non mi interessa, cazzo, — wait till your mother hears about this, Harley graduated with HONORS. What exemple are you giving to my grandkids? Don’t — Don’t run, GET BACK HERE!”

Tim sweats in high school dropout, Dick sweats in cop, Jason sweats in drug lord, Damian sweats in art kid, and Stephanie just sweats in general.

“Should, uh… Should we help?”

“Are you kidding? I haven’t seen Jason this happy since the Queen died.”

[bluegiragi]

i drew johnny "soap" mactavish as phreak (the original design) from overwatch.

bonus (just for fun):

[worldwright]

malevolent is a very fun flavor of unreliable narrator. narrator who you're in a situationship with. narrator who doesn't know what owls are and gets scared of your reflection. narrator who refuses to narrate when he doesn't want you to find your keys

[hai-nae]

hey siri, play wannabe by hey mona

posted on twt too bc why not

[wombywoo]

cleaned up

[zookie-art]

Shadows and light ~

[s0fter-sin]

alpha!ghost who's always hated the sound of an omega's purr; he’s always found it patronising, manipulative, an attempt to twist his biology - twist him - into submission like he's some animal

until he hears soap purr for the first time and it's about as choppy and comforting as a machine gun. there's nothing smooth about it, nothing seductive or wily; it's broken and guttural and the most honest noise ghost's ever heard outside his own growls

he doesn't use it to coo him into complacency, doesn't try to bend him to his will or smooth over his bristles. he's never tried to distract ghost from his anger, never used his intrinsic control over him to gentle him. hell, he seems to forget he can even do it, ghost hears it so rarely. it's only a touch above his growls, subharmonic and demanding attention instead of the pretty titter of a pampered omega

ghost hears it for the first time when he’s covered in blood not his, after he slits an enemy pinning him down from navel to chin; dark blood instantly soaking him. the body’s practically cool with blood loss already when he tosses it aside and rolls to his feet to find soap stock still, staring at him with a feral gleam in his eyes

he drops his jaw with a deep inhale, rolling the scent of blood and pissed alpha pheromones in his mouth and his chest rumbles with all the subtlety of a chainsaw

it's suddenly all ghost can do to keep himself from dragging the body and dropping it at soap's feet like a courting gift of old; to carve out his heart and rich organs and present them for his approval, to hold them to his mouth and never break eye contact as he takes his first bloody bite

ghost shakes it off, strangling the chuff trying to claw out his throat, and heads for the rv point and feels absolutely nothing when soap falls into step behind him without a word; his purr that more closely mimics an alpha's rumble an echoing memory

soap's far from a meek, compliant omega and he's no conniving prince wrapping alphas around his finger either; he's just as much a protector, an aggressor, as any alpha. he's never been ashamed of his instincts; never shied away from nuzzling into price's throat, purring for his pack alpha with no regard to the uncomfortable crowd surrounding them. never hesitates to wrap gaz up and drop him in his nest when the beta reeks of stress and sickly insomnia

and he never stops himself from baring his fangs with a guttural hiss whenever another omega dares to purr at ghost

it's a threat and a warning in one; something only the most foolish omega would ignore. he knows ghost has a complex relationship with omegas, knows it isn't something so pathetic as biological prejudice. something about omegas makes his lt's scent go flat and steely, as close to distress as he thinks he can manage and it makes something dark and old rise in his chest

territorial rage broils off him, strong enough to make the omega whine and back off with their tail between their legs without even taking a step towards them. the scent is sour and pungent enough to drown out ghost's subtle distressed smell, to hide it, and it makes him snort; shaking his head to try and clear it

soap all but trots up beside him, chirping in greeting. he sneezes playfully, lets him know the rage scent wasn't for him; never for him. he replaces it with happy-friend-pack, replaces it with nitroglycerin and burning sparklers and butts his forehead against his sternum instead of crowding into his throat and purring the way he wants to

he earned his way into ghost's pack, into becoming an omega not just accepted but welcomed and he won't jeopardise his hard won progress by pushing his purr on him

he lifts his head and grins as ghost cups his nape in a faux-scruff, something offensive and borderline taboo and if he were anyone else, he'd rip his hand off with his teeth. but it's ghost and ghost does strange things, things that reassure him on a deeper level than any purr or chirp could ever hope to, so soap presses into his gentling hand and bares his teeth in the thinnest facsimile of a smile at the retreating omega

all ghost has to do is aim him in the right direction and he'd bring the omega back to him in pieces; would gift him their torn out throat so they could never purr at him again

his chest rumbles subconsciously and soap gnashes his teeth, forcing his purr back down when ghost squeezes his nape

he thumps his temple into his and a puff of air tickles his ear, the closest thing soap's ever heard to a chuff from him and he couldn't stop his purr if he tried; choppy and broken as it is

you inhale enough explosive fumes and it's bound to damage something

ghost huffs again and soap presses up to nibble appeasingly at his clothed jaw, a question and an apology in each bite

ghost just takes the tip of his ear between his teeth, shaking it with a teasing growl and soap laughs as he tackles him just for ghost to bow over his back and wrap his arms around his waist; effortlessly picking him up and tossing him away

soap stays low and growls right back, a wild smile splitting his face. ghost meets him with a sneeze and his grin grows impossibly wider

if he can't hunt for his alpha, can't purr for him with blood on his teeth, he'll happily wrestle with him instead

[distorted-prince]

Eldritch god possesses man’s eyes, still requires use of his glasses. More at 11

[babsi-and-stella]

Suki Potier photographed by John Downing in April 1967.

[slavhew]

hm

[chainmotif]

[s-oaps]

CAPTAIN PRICE 🤚 IN MODERN WARFARE III

[tiffycat]

It's a really stressful and confusing time for Jack

based on this post by @see-arcane