#in case of apocalypse

[bs-fangirl]

Apocalypse stories used to scare the shit out of me. I didn't want to think about the end of the world. But now I love environments where nature has reclaimed our old civilization; where plants cover old buildings and animals wander down carless streets. And the characters I'm attached to surviving through it, even when I know I'd never survive an apocalypse, gives me hope.

I think we're gonna start seeing an uptick in apocalypse stories in the next couple of years because people are gonna be chasing whatever it is The Last Of Us is making them feel.

I'm gonna let yall in on the secret as an avid fan of apocalypse media:

Its all about hope, empathy, and love.

When you're faced with the dissolution of society as we know it and all that's left is you, people you love, people you don't know, and threats to safety, it tends to pull away all those bullshit layers that we build up to exist in a very capitalist world to survive.

But those are useless in systems where capitalism doesn't exist. It becomes a much more raw expression of survival, and all that's gonna be left is you, your ideals, and what you're willing to kill for, and what you're willing to die for.

So, please explore apocalypse media. Explore yourself in these scenarios, even, because all that's gonna be left is who you are at your core, and you need to be able to live with what you see in the broken mirror every day.

[abbeyofcyn]

DTIYS BUT IT'S COLOUR IN YOUR STYLE

Because I can't

IF you wanna win:

Tag with #abbeyofctiys

Deadline 28 February 2024

Winner gets chosen by T̵̺͍̖͇̬͚͚̙͕̻̳̹͈̹́͗͜h̶̨͕͍̲̀ę̵̛̘̲̥̝̳̥̑̈͊̎͆̓̃̎̾͋͆̕ͅ ̷͕̺̤͕̲̩̬̱͕͕̉̏̓̃͐̎͠͝ͅw̷̝̻͙͓̫̓̒͛̏̑̽͛͘̕ͅh̶̨̆ẽ̸͚̆͐͒̌e̷̲̼̺͚̹̼̿̀͒̃̀̍̔̍̀́̓͝͝ĺ̷̮͑̿ (also known as random)

Winner gets a lineart drawing with flat colours. Character of choice!

Don't care about winning? Just tag :3c

Ps: feel free to @ me in your finished product!

Transparent bg:

Ibis records everything, apparently. How Donnie of it!

[st-just]

Eidolon is honestly one of my favorite incredibly tragic tertiary characters in worm. Clearly raised his whole life getting the message that your life only has any value whatsoever if you're useful (and that he equally clearly did not meet the bar), to the point that when Cauldron found him he was about to kill himself after getting rejected by the army.

And then absolutely never outgrew that bone-deep belief, just now he has enough power to be useful - the most useful, even! And the idea of that slipping away as the booster shots grow less effective is driving him to the brink even before he learns just how far his power had gone to make him essential.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

I cannot tell you enough how much I love the way you draw Charles, every time you post new doodles of him an angel gets their wings <3

thank you so much !!!!! at the rate im going at ill have an army of angels in no time

[bs-fangirl]

Not surprised that the majority of Tumblr, myself included, consider ourselves ‘entertainment’

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Girl Next Door - XIV

A Constantine x FemVampire!Reader (feat John Wick!) fic based on this imagine. all chapters gen. warnings: NSFW, blood, biting, violence divider by animatedglittergraphics-n-more

⚠Trigger warning: YET MORE GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, if that squicks you DO NOT READ!⚠

14. a universal conduit

You’re not much for praying, but if ever God should be interested in you stupid little trials on Earth now seems like the time. As you tear through the streets of L.A. holding on for dear undeath on the back of Wick’s motorcycle, you send up a request to the big guy in the clouds:  

Please, don’t let us be too late. 

You just had to make a little stop at the Four Seasons to collect some blood from the Antichrist; a criminal defense lawyer named Kevin Lomax, unwittingly on retainer as don Juan’s little failsafe. 

Truth be told, you’d expected more of a fight from one of Satan’s offspring–but then he was the other Son of Satan, an earthbound half-breed who possibly didn’t even know who he truly was. 

More’s the better, and you keep the double Ziploc-bagged portion of his profane plasma in the inside pocket of your jacket, close to your heart. 

According to don Juan…it just might be the key to saving the world. 

He’d told you other things too. 

Such as, this ritual was to take place at the old mental hospital, where supposedly two ley lines meet and the veil is fortuitously thin for such things, forming a sort of gate where it’s easier for the constituents of Hell to pass through. 

 “What sort of ritual?” you’d demanded, wanting to know what you were walking into. 

Somehow, Juan managed to shrug with what remained of his trunk of a body. “Oh, the usual chanting and sacrifice I suppose. But that wasn’t my part of the deal.” 

“What was your part of the deal?” 

“Keeping Constantine out of it all. He was the only real threat left,” Juan grumbled, then glared at you. “You didn’t prove quite the distraction we’d hoped, you useless wench.” 

You realized that he didn’t mean kidnapping you tonight, but earlier, when your whole ordeal as a creature of the night began. He’d ordered for this to happen to you. He’d been watching you all along. The weight of this truth dawned on you, and it hurt. Jesus, how it hurt, but rather than cry about it you’d bared your fangs at him, picking up his sword from the ground. It was nearly as long as you are tall, and Juan’s eyes went wide. 

“What do you think you're doing with that?”

“It doesn’t feel good, does it, when you’re treated like your life is worth nothing?”

He bared his own fangs at you, jumping to the correct conclusion in the span of a second. 

“We had a deal!”

“You had a deal with him,” you’d said, nodding at Wick, who stood by with his arms crossed and a stony expression. “Not me.” 

“¡Espera! No, wait! You can’t–” 

You’re not exactly proud of how quick you were, to cut off his head–but in the heat of the moment, the bite of the blade through flesh and bone–God it felt good. 

Bloody, violated, but avenged, you stood over his decapitated corpse, shaking like a leaf but the sword still gripped hard in your hand. Lifeless eyes stared up at you, his mouth gaping as though he would still try to bargain with you from beyond the true grave. You thought of the way he touched you, the way he laughed at your pain–and you kicked his head as hard as you could like a soccer ball with a scream, bombing it into the dark depths of the cave. 

The ringing in your ears returned; Wick spoke gently to you again, taking the sword from your hand. You weren’t exactly numb, but the world seemed to have narrowed to a tunnel, where there was only you, and Wick, and his strong hands upon you leading you away. 

You never found Chas in the cave, and you hope he is with John, and not dead in an alley somewhere. You had to hand it to them, for baiting you just with a hat…but it seems safe to say the joke was on don Juan in the end. 

♰♰♰

“You can stay here,” says Wick as you pull up to the hospital, cupping your cheek in his hand. It seems eerily abandoned, for a medical facility, the windows all dark. “You have done enough, milaya. Let me finish this fight for you.” 

But you shake your head, unwilling to sit out from the fray. You can feel that John is in there, and he is afraid, although he is controlling it well enough to function. You sense the fighting hasn’t started quite yet. So brave, your demon hunter. He deserves better, than dying in this place a second time. 

“No. I’m going with you.” 

You like him even more, for not arguing with you. He simply nods, and he is ready to get down to business. “I hate demons,” he grumbles, rifling through his saddlebags for vials and a pair of brass cross-emblazoned knuckles. “They are too complicated.” 

“Are they really harder to kill than vampires?” you ask, watching him with a fascination you’re not sure is healthy. 

“Yes and no. Their powers…vary. You must be smart on your feet to find their weakness, before they kill you. It is impressive…your Constantine has lived so long.”

You are so surprised to hear him compliment John that he could have pushed you over with a feather. He looks up at you with a rueful smile you do not understand. “Let’s hope his luck holds, eh? Come on.” 

Armed to the teeth with Juan’s broadsword, knives, guns, holy water, and what you think may have been a grenade slipped into his pocket, you follow your dhampir beau into the dark maw of the place some people would swear is already Hell on Earth.

♰♰♰

The moment you set foot inside the hospital you sense the demonic presence, like a seething nest of poisonous snakes in the heart of the building. Wick feels it too, and you follow the winding hallways towards the therapeutic recreation area of the facility; ie, the pool. 

“Water is a vehicle; it lubricates the transition between worlds,” Wick explains hushedly, when you speculate as to why. 

You are scared, but you shove it down, and follow a step behind at Wick’s side. Worry for Constantine knots in your gut; maybe it’s stupid, but you just want to see him again. You don’t allow yourself to think one last time–even if in the very back of your brain, you feel the impending doom all too well. 

“...are all in violation of the balance,” you hear a familiar voice say, and your heart soars. “Leave now, or you will be deported.” 

You arrive in time to find John standing on a chair with a crowd of demons looking upon him curiously, that golden shotgun at his side. He should look ridiculous like that, but somehow, he is so tall and resolute that he cuts nothing less than a striking figure. 

“Go to Hell,” he tells the room, holding his lighter up to a sprinkler head–then he seems to sense you behind him–he whirls with terror in his eyes. “No!” he shouts desperately, throwing out his hand as though he could physically push you from across the room. 

Wick seems to understand something you do not, for just as the sprinkler heads begin to spew water he grabs you around the waist and runs for the hall. 

A few drops splash your hands and your face–and you scream. 

It feels like battery acid, something horribly caustic that could eat the flesh from your bones. The pain is excruciating, and you can hardly think as Wick bundles you along, not stopping until you find a dry place in the building, far away from the sprinklers. 

“What the fuck!” you hiss, looking at the sizzling droplets that landed on your hands. 

“Holy water,” Wick answers, licking your skin. 

Somehow, that works, and you sit back against the painted cinder block wall so hard your head cracks. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, that’s diabolical.”

Wick pays you a commiserating half smile. “I fear you are the one who is diabolical, my love.” 

You realize a beat later he is playing word games with you, and you hiss. “What about John? There were fifty demons in that room!” 

Wick nods, and you cannot fathom how this man, who you’d witnessed literally tearing vampires apart with his bare hands, can give such effective puppy eyes. It’s really not fair. “Stay here, milaya.” 

You grip Wick’s hands in yours, knowing it contradicts everything this man wants in the world, but pleading with him anyway, “Please look after him?” 

With a growl the dhampir nods, electric blue flashing in his midnight dark irises. He makes to stand, but you aren’t done with him yet, pulling him back to you. You can tell he’s annoyed as he looks to you, and even with the looming doom and vestiges of the sting of holy water upon your skin, you can’t help but smile a little. “Promise you’ll come back to me?” 

Immediately he softens, pressing his mouth to yours in a hard kiss that curls your toes and claims your heart all over again. He pulls away while you are too starstruck to function, disentangling himself from your hands curled in his jacket. 

“Be seeing you, vampling. Ya obeshchayu.” You don’t know how you know that means, ‘I promise’.

And then he is gone, charging back down the hall towards the fray. You watch your warrior go with an ache in your chest; it moves you, just watching the way he moves with such deadly purpose. You find you are not half as worried about him, as you are Constantine. 

Feeling utterly useless, you pace in the hall, hating being left to wait while the–you have to admit it–two men you care about are battling the unclean horde. You know you cannot go near that holy sprinkler water, and you pause to study a map of the hospital on the wall. It is black and white and grainy, state of the art printing from 1968. But it looks like you can access the pool area from another corridor on the other side, and you wonder if that section of the hospital received the same blessed deluge. 

You know that John Wick asked you to stay put–for his sake, as much as yours. But the stakes are too high, and you just can’t stand by. It’s probably a bad idea, but you make your way down the hall. 

♰♰♰

As you burst through the pool room doors via the men’s locker rooms you hear the cacophony of the battle taking place in the other room. There is also something thrashing around in the pool, the water churning like a feeding frenzy of sharks. Juan had made it sound like the pool itself was the gate, and fear spikes through you from head to toe. 

Is it Him? 

A figure emerges for a mere second, gasping for breath–you realize it’s Angela struggling with something trying to drown her, and you jump in without another thought. The thing is strong, as strong as you, and you grapple with it under the water, trying to get its hands off the detective so she can have a chance to breathe. It’s impossible to get a foothold in the water against this thrashing thing. In a desperate ditch attempt to stop it, you grab its head and wrench as hard as you can, breaking its neck, twisting it around all the way backwards.

By some luck or finally some divine interference, it goes still. 

You waste no time in picking Angela up, hoisting her out of the pool. She is so tiny, for such a fierce thing. She’s gone still, and you plead or pray again through bloody tears, “Please don’t be dead.” 

Perhaps you are technically dead, but you still attempt to breathe life back into her, blowing air into her mouth and you thank all the deities when she violently coughs up water and gasps for breath, clutching your arms for dear life. You turn her onto her side and pat her back, trying to help her expel the water from her lungs. 

“Thank fuck,” you hiss under your breath, holding her. She looks up at you, her eyes widening when she sees your fangs and glowing orange eyes.

“It’s ok, it’s ok,” you tell her, trying to make yourself look more human and failing spectacularly in the heightened stress of the moment. “I’m a friend of John’s.”

She relaxes back against the concrete, nodding, maybe needing to believe you. 

You laugh a little out of pure disbelief. There are still flashes of blue lightning and gunfire in the other room, Wick and Constantine working together. Who knew? But it sounds like the fight is winding down.  

Is this it? Did you do it? 

Is it going to be ok??

You are able to enjoy the lightness of this sliver of hope for a mere second, before suddenly you sense that you are not alone in the room. Something invisible picks you up roughly, and throws you back into the pool.

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

*full credit to @discoscoob for the idea to bring Kevin Lomax into this!! 😄 *a belated fyi, the reason I call Don John ---> don Juan is because "don" is a prefix and honorific signifying nobility, like Mr. or Sir, not actually part of his name. In Spanish, it's not capitalized. He's from Aragón, which is now a state but once was a kingdom unto itself in the Iberian peninsula, before Spain became, well...Spain as we know it, unified. Sort of.

[slugpup2]

currently in a Situation that can be summarized like this:

[aroaceleovaldez]

actually in hindsight why did Rick repeatedly have Piper solve all the ghost problems on the Argo II when. Hazel was right there. A daughter of Pluto. who by all logic should be able to control ghosts even a little bit. like, we know she has at least some of those types of powers. she just never gets to actually practically use them. ever. and then when there are zombies Hazel once again. does not get to use her powers about it. what.

[tomaturtles]

Campus Apocalypse panel redraw!!! I think about kawoshin plot significant headpats a normal amount (all the time)

No text/alt palette variants + the original!

[psychopomparia]

Finally, the Otto Apocolypse-Luocha-Void Archives encounters I've been waiting for

I waited so long for them to remember that Void is still in the game. Welt arrived at the express with a blonde companion (no seriously, where is VA in the game? He gets mentioned early on vaguely and then in the Welt flashbacks. He's even in Welt's splash art)

and then there's these two

I love Otto's narrations here. He's such a guy

TWINS akdlsfjfalsd

[mouthpoisons]

there is no way people are calling jayces love confession ableist we just arent gonna do this full stop if you arent physically disabled keep his name outta your mouth im serious

[cape-cod-lullaby]

cherry-picking

[chirpsythismorning]

Ya'll catch the final rose ceremony at the end of s4?!

[cirrus-grey]

Interesting tidbit from this Wikipedia article in light of today's episode (emphasis mine) :

Much of Newton's writing on alchemy may have been lost in a fire in his laboratory, so the true extent of his work in this area may have been larger than is currently known. Newton also suffered a nervous breakdown during his period of alchemical work.

Newton's writings suggest that one of the main goals of his alchemy may have been the discovery of the philosopher's stone (a material believed to turn base metals into gold), and perhaps to a lesser extent, the discovery of the highly coveted Elixir of Life. Newton reportedly believed that a Diana's Tree, an alchemical demonstration producing a dendritic "growth" of silver from solution, was evidence that metals "possessed a sort of life."

[nelkcats]

Immune

When a horde of Zombies was unleashed on the DC universe, Danny stared at the screen speechless. Clockwork had told him to keep an eye on the universe in case a catastrophe happened, but only 5 minutes had passed since then.

He called his mentor and the Master of Time told him to fix the problem, to which Danny began to complain before being pushed straight into a dimensional portal. He landed in the middle of a fucking horde, just his luck.

How was he going to prevent a fucking apocalypse? It had already started!

As he used his intangibility to get past the Zombies, he noticed the confused look most of them were sending him, but oh well. Danny was tempted to tell them that you can't kill what was dead, but he decided to keep quiet. Not that the Zombies understood anyway.

He set out to explore the world looking for some clues, avoiding the Zombies (For some reason, they avoided him too) and drawing the attention of the resistance, who quickly branded him as immune (he wasn't, he had just become intangible, again).

Ironically, he ended up siding with the only Zombie? Of a different race. Red Hood was much nicer than those who wanted a sample of his blood for a cure (again, Danny knew it wasn't going to work). But neither of them had any idea how to end the apocalypse.

Jason had no idea why the Zombies were avoiding that specific boy, like he was a hopeless case. Or why there were so many people chasing him, but at least he was nice, and seemed genuinely intent on 'stopping the apocalypse', so he joined him out of curiosity.

He was like a free Zombie repellant anyway, and Jason had no idea where his family was since the catastrophe started.

[wanderingcas]

August 1st - posting the destiel endverse apocalypse fic. Mark your calendars. Or don't, I'm not your boss <3