#an idea I've had for a long time

[kyofsonder]

Also on the topic of writing, I love when you start a new WIP and instantly root for your own characters. That "Oh, I like you! I'm gonna have fun putting you in situations!" moment is one of my favorite things as a writer.

[kettlefire]

Prepare for the unexpected. (DPxDC)

Everyone knew about the reign of Pariah Dark. Even those who did not dabble in those realms have heard the tale of the tyrant. A power-hungry man who ruled over the dead with an iron fist.

Following the rise of Pariah Dark, his realm had been effectively cut off from communication. Many mystics and magic users knew better than to open the door of nightmares that could arise if Pariah Dark's reach went further than his own realm.

Except, the universe had plans to bring the realm of the dead back into the cards.

A new opponent, one that had all of Earth's heroes scrambling for options. A being with powers of a god over weather, destruction was on the horizon. A world ending threat.

It's the only reason the Justice League was doing this. In a deep bunker, far from close civilization as a precaution, the heroes looked on with grim expressions.

The world was already being threatened. It would be destroyed regardless of what the league did. So it only made sense to make the last ditch effort. To summon someone strong enough to defeat the threat.

No one wanted to do it. No one wanted to be the one to pull the realm of the dead back to the living. The consequences were untold if this succeeded. If Pariah Dark was freed and defeated the threat, whose to say he won't want control?

That was a problem for later. For the aftermath. For now, the league could only watch on with bated breath as Constantine completely the summon ritual.

They watched on as the shadows in the room seemed to darken and grow. As the sigil sputtered to life with a glow that was growing increasingly brighter. A sudden gust of wind rushed through the room, the temperature began to drop with eaching ticking second.

And then it was all gone.

The room stood perfectly still. Just as it had been moments before. Nothing changed. No giant king standing before them, no sign that the ritual worked.

The room stood deadly still for another beat before the murmurs started. The team trying to make sense of the situation, figure out what went wrong.

Constantine swore up and down that this was the correct ritual, taking offense that they would even think the problem was on his end. It only made it better when it finally happened.

A loud sound ripped through the room, pulling everyone's attention back to the summoning circle. Just in time to see a tear appear in the space above the circle.

A thin tear that ran the length of eight feet. The fabric of the dimension seems to curl at the edges, pulling back to reveal a deep glowing swirl of greens. A dark gloved hand reached through, fingers curling around the edge of the tear, stretching it even further.

A portal. The ritual had worked, but there had been a delay. A delay that had every hero nerves on edge. Each team member tensed, weapons at the ready as they watched the being stretch the portal to the right size.

Then, a foot stepped out with a heavy thud. A dark boot that looked otherworldly despite its similarity to mortal clothing. A deep black that seemed never-ending. A second foot quickly followed before a full body emerged from the portal.

Not many people in the room have ever seen Pariah Dark, let alone know what to expect. Based on what Constantine and Zatara had said, this wasn't Pariah Dark.

A man had stepped out of the portal, standing at almost seven feet tall, and built like a brick house. One glance at the glowing white hair, deadly red eyes, and shard teeth was enough to know this being was not to be messed with.

But there was no giant show of armor or royal garbs. There is no large crown at the top of his head or jewelry from the infinite realms laced around his neck.

Instead, the man stood before them in combat boots, worn-in ripped jeans, a graphic t-shirt, and a spiked leather jacket. Despite his almost normal clothing choice, the man's jacket seemed to be a never-ending depth of the dark night sky. If one was to look closely enough, the cosmos could almost be made out in the sea of darkness.

None of that would have prepared them for when the man spoke. His tone sounded more bored than anything as he took a step forward.

"Oh, so now you need the help of the dead." The man had spoken, running a hand through his hair. When Batman took a step forward to speak, the man raised a hand. Immediately commanding silence in the single gesture. "I'm on babysitting duty and have yet to have a cup of coffee. I'll be right back."

Just like that, both the man and portal vanished into thin air. Leaving behind a group of stunned heroes. Not only was the man not Pariah Dark, but he was also supposedly babysitting.

"Did that just-"

The Flash had been the first voice to speak up, his eyes trained on where the man had once stood. Except he had barely made it through the first few words before the man was suddenly back.

The man that now had a child hanging off his shoulders and another teen being held up by his scruff. Unlike the man, these kids looked human.

Too human for Bruce's liking. The dark black hair and bright blue eyes had every heroes eyes flickering to Batman for just the briefest moment.

"This isn't fair! I'm not even the king. Why do I have to be here!" The teenager had been complaining the moment the man had reappeared. Arms crossed tight over his chest and seemingly used to being held dangling. "Besides, who brings kids to a show down! Wait til I tell mom about this."

"Aw, come on, Danny. This is gonna be fun!!" The younger girl seemed in much better spirits than the teen, Danny. She had climbed up the large man, sitting on his shoulders and resting her arms on the mess of glowing hair. "It's like take your kids to work day! Ooo, Dan! Can we fight too!?"

Unlike the two kids, the man looked purely exhausted and annoyed. The man, Dan, dropped Danny like a sack of potatoes as he took a long drink from the travel cup in his hand.

It didn't take a genius to recognize the look of an exhausted parent in Dan's expression. A look many of the league members were well acquainted to. A look that even had Batman grimacing with sympathy.

"Can it, little shits. You two were grounded, remember." Dan had growled at the kids before shifting his focus back on the team of heroes before them. His glowing eyes set in a deadly glare. "Pariah Dark isn't coming, and he never will. He's been dethroned and banished. We're the best you've got."

A summoning that started with a group of on edge and scared heroes looking for the ghost king, ended in a way no one expected.

No one was even sure if it made any sense. They weren't sure if they should feel hopeful or in despair.

Because truly, what was a ghostly man with two seemingly human children against a godlike foe with the control over the weather?

The unspoken question of power and ability seemed to vanish following Dan downing the metal travel cup of coffee, and crushing it in his fist.

He tossed it to the side, straighting up his posture as he looked over the heroes. Dan might not be a hero, but he's been playing family for too long.

An almost feral, bloodhungry grin spread across the man's face, sharp fangs on full display. The look made the man suddenly look even less human. He looked closer to a demon from the pits of hell rather than the exhausted parent he looked just a few seconds ago.

"Point me in the direction of this bastard. It's been too long since I let loose and had some fun."

[umblrspectrum]

happy solvermas

[spear-gsun]

Happy 20 years to the Imperishable Night

[electricb00]

bad habits

[misc-obeyme]

You woke up in the middle of the night. You blinked your eyes open, thinking about rearranging yourself so you could drift back to sleep. And then you noticed the tuft of white hair that was peeking out above the edge of your mattress.

You reached out sleepily, burying your fingers in it.

The head shifted as Mammon looked over at you. It was dark in your room, but you could still see his gold-blue eyes. They seemed somehow dull, as though he wasn’t fully aware of himself.

“Mammon?” you whispered into the quiet. “Are you okay? What are you doing down there?”

Mammon was leaning against the side of your bed, arms around his knees. He shook his head a little, causing your fingers to ruffle through his hair. “Don’t worry about it, MC. Go back to sleep.”

You sighed. Like you could actually do that with him here like this. You sat up. “Don’t do that to me. Tell me what’s going on.”

Mammon didn’t move and he didn’t say anything, only sat there on your floor.

You pulled yourself out of the bed and sat in front of him. You leaned your cheek against one of his knees and looked up into his face. “Talk to me. Please.”

Mammon lifted his head and you were shocked to see the pain in his eyes. “Sorry, MC. Didn’t mean to wake ya.”

“Mammon…”

Mammon leaned his head back against the mattress. “Just had a nightmare, that’s all. Couldn’t go back to sleep, so I came here.”

You could tell you weren’t going to get any more out of him than that. But it didn’t matter. That was enough.

You stood up again and grabbed his hands, pulling him to his feet. He froze as you wrapped your arms around him, pressing him into you. For a moment, you could feel him trembling, but then he melted into your embrace. His arms enclosed you, his forehead resting on your shoulder.

You stayed that way for a long time, unwilling to let him go until he stopped shaking in your arms.

Eventually, you felt his body relax, enough that you felt he might be able to sleep again. You extracted yourself from him gently before tugging him into the bed with you.

Mammon was your guardian demon, the one who was always looking out for you, always by your side. But sometimes the guardian needed protection, too. And you would always be there to comfort him, even if he wasn’t sure how to ask for it.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[bestagons]

What Dan and Phil Text Each Other 4 + Familect (article)

[sampegger]

sam winchester // skeleton bones - mccafferty

[thatonesubwaypenguin]

❄️"I am Emmet. I am a Subway Boss. I have a question. Want a Sprite Cranberrrrry?"❄️

[okiroash]

Vocaloid videos that reminded me of him 💥💥

Link to the songs under read!!

1) MushiP - Escape Escape!

2) Nilfruits - Ameri

3) LamazeP - Triple Baka

4) Picdo - A Meteorite is Falling

5) Iyowa - Golden number

6) PinocchioP - I Just Hate People

[rosifire]

Obligatory “I don’t have a problem with CaitVi” but I think, for me, their story (separate from their own personal character arcs) would/will be more compelling if it ends up being irreparable between them.

I think Arcane is good at subverting expectations and tropes; the most memorable example I can think of is in S1E3 where Powder follows after Vi and the boys to save Vander. We’ve all seen the “friends are in trouble, but the plucky young hero comes in at the nick of time to save them against all odds” plot twist—but Arcane subverts that. In fact, Powder’s involvement and her monkey bomb finally working is the thing that, tragically, leads to Claggor and Mylo’s death, Vi’s injury, Vander’s death(?), so on and so forth. It worked, but it didn’t work. And to me, that's the tragedy of it. That good intentions weren't enough.

So, personally, I see a setup between Caitlyn and Vi: the Romeo and Juliet archetype, two initially-begrudging people working together amongst classism and prejudice, and finding companionship against all odds. Class, wealth, opportunity separates them; Caitlyn is a scion of one of Piltover’s most influential and powerful families, and Vi is… a nobody from the Undercity, wrongfully imprisoned, when they first meet. It’s a way for them to both see that the “other side” isn’t as bad as they’ve always been told. That there are Good People on either side of the bridge. That, hell, love can be found, too.

But oftentimes, I believe this trope in particular ignores a lot of the real-world factors that could come into play with a friendship or relationship that “defies” station. The fact is, Caitlyn does come from a world of privilege, and Vi is treated differently by Caitlyn’s peers. The whole of Season two, Vi has been referred to as one of the “good ones”. Maddie explicitly says that it's good to know that there are still "good ones" around. The implication that you’re not like them. Time and time again, Vi is treated like an Other. A “good” other, but an other all the same. She's welcome in Piltover, but only just - and only when Caitlyn vouches for her. And at the climax of their story thus far, Caitlyn outright says to her, “I keep telling myself that you're different. but you're not. It's [Jinx's] blood in your veins”. I'm sure grief and anger are a part of why she says this, but that's becoming a catalyst for the discrimination she seems to be steadily believing in more and more. Whether or not she ends up meaning this, it's a ghastly thing to say.

And with the way things are developing with Caitlyn, who is actively weaponizing her privilege and power, and who is very quickly going down a very dangerous and fascist path, I don’t know if their relationship could — or should! — be rectified. She's a cop, and a very privileged one at that. I don’t know if this is a love that could “defy all odds”, and in my opinion, I think it would be more interesting, and more compelling, if it didn’t.

[duckiemimi]

dandadan fills the well-written-female-characters shaped hole in my heart.

[barfygutcheck]

sourdough starter snack

/recently found out that live yeast might ferment in the stomach for a while if large quantities of it are eaten. think noises, think expansion. so this fic happened. uhh/

Jackie’s dorm room was quiet, save for the hum of the AC and the rustle of pages turning as she sat in the living room, reviewing her notes. She had a tendency to stay up late cramming. It was just past midnight, and the dim glow of the kitchen light spilled into the living room.

Jackie had been so wrapped up in her studying, she hadn’t noticed the soft sounds of someone moving around in the kitchenette until she heard the faint scraping of a spoon against a bowl. She glanced up from her notebook, frowning slightly. An hour ago, Sawyer had settled on the couch (trying to be considerate of Jackie’s roommate), but it looked like her stomach decided otherwise — a thought Jackie couldn’t help but find stimulating.

It wasn’t unusual for Sawyer to raid the fridge late at night, considering her appetite, but checking on her anyways couldn’t hurt.

Jackie slipped out of bed, quietly padding down the hall. As she approached the kitchen, the sound of the spoon grew clearer. Jackie had a pretty good idea what she was about to find.

“Sully?” she called out, folding her arms over her chest.

“Hmm?” came a muffled response from the kitchen.

When Jackie turned the corner into the kitchen, her suspicion was confirmed. There, standing at the counter with a big mixing bowl clutched in one hand and a spoon halfway to her mouth, was Sawyer. Her eyes were glued to the bowl, completely oblivious to Jackie’s presence.

Jackie’s eyes widened when she saw the unmistakable texture and bubbles of leavening. The bowl wasn’t just any bowl. It was her sourdough starter — weeks of careful fermentation and feeding, gone, or at least half gone, if the looks of it were anything to go by.

“Oh my God, Sully. What are you doing?” Jackie blurted out, rushing forward.

Sawyer looked up, mid-chew, her cheeks full. She swallowed slowly, then grinned sheepishly, as if she hadn’t just committed what Jackie considered to be the culinary equivalent of a felony.

“Uh… hey, babe. Eating cookie dough… duh,” she mumbled through another bite, lifting the spoon and gesturing toward the bowl. “I didn’t know you made some. It’s pretty good, but kind of tangy. Want a bite?”

Jackie’s heart skipped a beat. Her brain stumbled over itself, trying to process what she was seeing as Sawyer scooped up another spoonful into her mouth. Cookie dough?

“That’s not cookie dough, that’s—” she said, her voice pitching higher with every word. She raked a hand through her hair, trying to figure out how to break the news. “That’s sourdough starter, Sully!”

Sawyer froze, spoon hovering halfway to her mouth, and blinked at Jackie. “Uh… what?”

Jackie rubbed a hand over her face, groaning. “It’s sourdough starter. It’s fermented! Not something you just eat… raw!”

Sawyer’s eyes darted to the bowl, then to the spoon, which she’d been licking, then back to Jackie. The confusion was clear on her face, but slowly, ever so slowly, it began to dawn on her that she might’ve seriously messed up.

“Wait…” Sawyer furrowed her brow. “So, it’s… not edible?”

“No! Well, I mean, not like that!” Jackie threw her hands up. “You don’t just eat it! It’s used to make bread rise. It’s filled with live cultures and bacteria—”

Sawyer flinched at the word “bacteria,” her gaze flicking to the bowl in her hands. “It’s alive?”

“Yeah, as in yeast! You’re supposed to let it ferment for days to make bread.” Jackie pressed a hand to her forehead. “How much did you eat?”

Sawyer placed the bowl down on the counter, eyeing the near-empty contents. She hesitated, then shrugged. “I dunno. Like, a lot?”

“A lot? Sully, that’s—” Jackie cut herself off, taking a deep breath. “Sully, that stuff expands when it’s heated up. Who knows how much of that is sitting in — in your stomach right now!”

Sawyer’s eyes shifted down to her stomach, which now seemed even more ominous with the knowledge of what was inside. She gulped, eyes widening. “It expands?”

“Yes. And I’m fairly sure it’s going to make you really sick if you’ve eaten as much as it looks like you have.”

Sawyer’s expression began to falter. A hand instinctively moved to rest on her abdomen, and for the first time that night, she looked genuinely worried. Her belly felt like a rock had dropped inside, pressing against her insides as it expanded.

“Uh… now that you mention it…” she said, her fingers prodding lightly against her belly. “I do feel kinda weird…”

Jackie watched. Typically, this kind of situation would have her blushing; Sawyer had a habit of overindulging and feeling the consequences. But this time, what she’d eaten wasn’t just a bad call — it could really upset her stomach. Jackie wasn’t aroused in the slightest, only concerned. “What kind of weird? Stomachache?”

Sawyer paused, her face scrunching up as she tried to gauge how she was feeling. “It’s not, like, painful. But it’s definitely feeling… off. Like, kinda tight. Heavy.”

As if her belly was starting to rise like dough. Like bread in an oven. Live yeast thrives in warm environments, and the human stomach is warm. Particularly Sawyer’s gut, since Sawyer was like a living, walking furnace, always overheating.

Jackie was already thinking through their options. Nothing in her two years of medical studies equipped her for a girlfriend who had mistaken sourdough starter for cookie dough, and she was unsure of what to do when that sourdough decided to fight back in her girlfriend’s belly. “Okay. Well, your body’s probably trying to process all that yeast. You just ate half a bowl of fermented dough, I mean, we need to keep an eye on this.”

Sawyer stared down at her stomach again, a flash of panic crossing her face. “Oh, crap. I thought it was cookie dough,” she pitifully blurted, as if saying it louder would make it somehow less of an issue.

Jackie shook her head, reaching out to gently push Sawyer into one of the kitchen chairs. “Alright, alright. Just sit down. You’ll wake Willow up.”

Sawyer plopped down into the chair, slowly rubbing circles over the front of her tank top. “I just saw food, and I thought—”

“You just saw food and thought, ‘must eat now,’” Jackie put in playfully.

Sawyer cracked a weak smile. “Yeah, something like that.”

Jackie stood up, fetching a glass of water and placing it in front of Sawyer. Even though Jackie had never seen Sawyer do anything this stupid before, she knew Sawyer had pulled some dumb stunts in the past. Jackie realized that all Sawyer needed was a little patience and attention, and she would bounce back like new. “Drink this. It might help a little.”

Sawyer obediently took the glass and sipped it slowly. She grimaced, glancing down at her stomach. It churned, making thick, sloshy sounds, and she could swear she felt it expand just a little more with each passing second. “Uh, Jackie, I think it’s getting worse.”

At this, Jackie’s eyes snapped to Sawyer’s midsection. She hadn’t noticed it at first, but Sawyer’s usually flat stomach did seem a little bloated, like it was already reacting to the mass of sourdough starter she had so thoughtlessly consumed. The sourdough starter wasn’t exactly the villain here — it was just doing its thing. And it must’ve been having a field day in Sawyer’s stomach, bubbling, fermenting the sugars and starches it could find.

It had taken weeks to build it up, feeding it daily, watching it grow into a thriving colony of yeast and bacteria, preparing it to make bread. And now, more than half of it was gone, sitting inside Sawyer’s stomach instead of turning into a fresh loaf.

“We need to get you to the bathroom,” Jackie said firmly, moving to her side.

Sully gave her a wide-eyed look. “You think I’m gonna be sick or something?”

“We’re not taking any chances.” Jackie grabbed her by the arm, pulling her gently toward the door — no easy feat when Sawyer had both the weight and height advantage at a full head taller.

A deep gurgle came from the depth of Sawyer’s stomach, echoing in the dim-lit hallway. “Oh man… I don’t feel so good…”

“Well,” Jackie muttered, helping her girlfriend out of the kitchen, “you did just eat a half gallon of live bacteria and flour — perhaps more.”

They hurried the rest of the way to the bathroom, where Jackie eased Sawyer down onto the floor beside the toilet.

Sawyer leaned against the cool tile, looking utterly miserable. Her face had lost its color, and her curls, damp with sweat, stuck to her forehead. She groaned softly, rubbing her taut belly. “I can’t believe I’m gonna throw up bread before it’s even bread.”

Jackie snorted despite herself. “That’s one way to look at it.”

“Next time,” Sawyer said, her voice weak, “just label your bowls.” She could feel the heavy, bloated weight pressing against her insides, sluggish, bubbling uncomfortably as if everything inside was expanding and shifting, trying to find a way out.

It was only a matter of time before it all came rushing back up.

Jackie patted her girlfriend’s knee. “I will. But next time, just ask before you go shoveling random stuff into your mouth, dumbass.”

[bread-is-my-life]

@tekitothemagpie hey what if I said that I spent 6 hours drawing it because the post you made is absolutely canon

[phoenixcatch7]

Loz fandom stop being angsty and give the daydreaming kids on big fun adventures with a cool glowing sword some actual whimsy and joy challenge

[inexplicably-spookified]

Lea… do you remember what a clear sky looks like at night?

Out in the countryside, no town or city nearby?

I hope one day you will…