#john: *opens his mouth*

[direwombat]

Wednesday 28/52

Tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton and @inafieldofdaisies

Tagging @strangefable , @adelaidedrubman , @detectivelokis , @sstewyhosseini , @confidentandgood , @river-ward , @wrathfulrook , @strafethesesinners , @henbased , @voidika , @poetikat , @vampireninjabunnies-blog , @aceghosts , @purplehairsecretlair , @deputyash , @harmonyowl , @madparadoxum , @euryalex , @clonesupport , @g0dspeeed , @gaeadene , @ivymarquis , @nightwingshero , @cassietrn , @neverthesameneveranother , @josephslittledeputy , @locustandwildhoney , @roofgeese , @jacobsneed, @schoute and I feel like I'm missing people still so blanket tag to anyone who has something to share!

With ch.3 of katc freshly posted, I'm taking a day or two to let the brain rest, but since a good chunk of ch.4 (or as it was formerly known: ch.3 part 2) is already drafted, here's some more syb and john interacting (ft. A random resistance member who isn't important enough to be named rip)

The woman scoffs. “I appreciate your concern, Dep,” she says, “But John Seed took our homes. Seems only fair that we return the favor to the motherfucker.”

That gets her to crack a smile. There’s no doubt that the people of Hope County are a resilient one. They take pride in their homes and livelihood and don’t take too kindly to outsiders threatening their way of life. There’s something admirable about the way so many are motivated by sheer spite.

“Fair enough,” she sighs. “Listen, you get Peggies tryin’ shit, just give me or Grace a holler, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the woman nods. “And if you ever need any backup, you have my gun, y’hear?”

Sybille’s smile tightens. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks,” she says, and she’s shoving past the woman before the conversation can continue any further. She has no intention of calling an amateur duck hunter to help her in combat; not when doing so would put not just a civilian’s life at risk, but her own as well.

She trusted Grace to have her back because she knew the woman also served. Knew that she could handle herself in a firefight. She doesn’t have the same kind of faith in a random civilian, no matter how confident they are in their abilities.

She has no time to babysit children playing soldier.

With more force than is necessary, she throws the side-door to the hangar open at the same time her radio crackles to life on her belt.

“Sin is pervasive,” comes John Seed’s voice, each sibilant hissed with a forked tongue. “It drives us to do unspeakable acts.”

She hurriedly slams the door closed behind her and leans her back against it, holding it shut. Clenching her jaw, she unclips her radio and brings it to her mouth. “You talkin’ outta your ass,” she grits. “Whatever you sellin’, I ain’t in the market to buy.”

“Such hostility! So close-minded!” John tuts. “I know the feelings that drive you. I know them intimately.” She doesn’t care for the way his voice drops on that word, emphasizing it in a way that makes her feel dirty. “But I can help you, Deputy. I can wash away these sins. I can cleanse your soul.”

“Your concern is touchin’,” she says flatly. “But you ain’t gotta worry your pretty little head about me or my immortal soul — I’ve already been baptized.”

“Ah, correct me if I’m wrong, but I do believe that only cleansed you of Original Sin,” he says. “And you and I both know you’ve sinned plenty since then.”

Her lips curl into a sneer. “I ain’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” she says, but the words ring painfully hollow.

“Now, now, don’t lie to me. Multiple accounts of vandalism and petty theft. Truancy. More than one instance of joyriding and underage drinking, and oh — let’s not forget about that little marijuana possession charge. And how many bar fights have you instigated that ended without anyone pressing charges? You, my dear, are a repeat offender. Tell me, does our good friend the Sheriff know about your previous life as a delinquent?”

Her blood goes cold and her sneer turns into a snarl. Aside from his jab about the bar fights, all her recorded crimes happened before she turned eighteen and her juvie record is sealed. Has been since she became her younger brother’s legal guardian and cleaned up her act over a decade ago. He’s either very good at bluffing, or somehow he managed to get access to it. Either way, she sees what she’s doing, and she refuses to give him the satisfaction of riling her up.

“Whaddaya want?” she grunts.

“I want you to confess, Deputy,” John laughs. “I want you to atone! I want to help you to cleanse your soul and embrace the glory of God so that you may walk with us in the Garden of Eden!”

She scoffs. “I ain’t confessin’ jackshit to ya.”

“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong. Things would go much easier for you if you just said yes, Deputy. Atonement is such a beautiful, rapturous experience,” he breathes. “It will be difficult, and it will be painful, but it will be worth it.”

“Yeah, you know what’s gonna be painful?” she asks. “My boot up your ass.”

[arthur-lesters-right-arm]

Arthur: [gets impaled]

John: this is so sad. Yorick play Faroe's song

[s0fter-sin]

(cw non-sexual kink, cis male tiddy sucking)

nikolai takes one look at ghost - at the stiffness he holds himself with, arms held rigidly at his sides as he glares ahead, each breath carefully measured to make himself unnoticed - and knows it’s been too long since he’s checked on his boy

all it takes is a single look, catching his bruised and tired eyes, and ghost all but slumps. nikolai turns, heading towards the 141’s private rec room and he doesn’t need to hear the near-silent footsteps to know ghost’s following. he pulls him down onto the couch, bringing him into the circle of his arms even as he weakly tries to pull away

“don’t need it, nik; don’t have time…” ghost argues but it’s hollow at best

“hush, sweet one,” he soothes his halfhearted protests and thumbs his mask up above his lips. “always so nervous; so lost...”

he tugs his shirt up, showing off his belly and the heavy swell of his hairy pecs; nipples already pebbled. he cups the back of ghost’s head, his thumb brushing over his exposed jaw and ghost is helpless to follow as he gently leads him to latch onto his breast

“i have you,” he promises

no matter how big he is, in presence or in stature, nikolai is bigger; encompassing his whole body in warmth and safety, the familiar scent of cologne and motor oil filling his senses just as the heat of his tit fills his mouth

ghost’s eyes roll back and he nuzzles deeper into his chest, sinking into him and lets his mind empty as he suckles

-

soap didn’t mean to. he didn’t mean to walk in on something not meant for his eyes. he just wanted to check on ghost; he’s been so distant lately, different from his usual bad days and he doesn’t know how to help him but that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to try

but he didn’t mean for this; for guilt and a heated, confused want to chase through him as he enters the rec room and realises nikolai got to ghost first

realises they’re not just necking on the couch; that ghost’s lips are pressed tight to nikolai’s furred breast and not moving away, a gentle hollow thinning his exposed cheeks as he sucks, his throat softly bobbing as he swallows

nikolai’s cupping the back of his head, fingers drifting through the blonde hair at the nape of his neck and he looks so fond; like there’s nowhere he’d rather be than on their broken in couch with ghost curled around his body, sucking what must be a deep ache into his tit.

then nikolai looks up at him, frozen in the doorway and soap-

soap runs

-

nikolai gives soap a few days before he tries to talk about it; gives him a chance to come to terms with what he's seen. it's almost adorable; how deep soap’s flush grows when he sees him, how he stumbles over his words and can’t quite make eye contact

but it also tugs at him that he feels the need to shrink, to brace himself from whatever punishment he thinks is headed his way; shoulders hunching in, arms wrapped almost defensively around his body before finding whatever excuse he can to run from him

run from himself

he wishes he could wait for soap to come to him but he knows lost boys and their fear of coming in from the cold

nikolai keeps himself gentle as he uses his bulk to corner soap; stopping him from running but also using it to show how easily he could hide in him if he just let himself give in. if he let him take care of him the same way he takes care of ghost

"but... but it's wrong," soap whispers, fingers tangling with a gold cross at the hollow of his throat (a cross so similar to one he’d melted down all those years ago), but he speaks with such clear longing; eyes wide where he stares up at him, all but begging to be told otherwise and it almost breaks nikolai's heart

"no, lovely boy," he denies softly and soap shudders as he cups his face and backs him up against the corner; hugged by both walls and nikolai himself. "there is nothing more natural."

he caresses soap's cheek. he feels him shake under his touch, his eyes already growing dewy, and chances drifting his fingers over his bottom lip. soap's breath hitches and he looks up at him with so much fear - so much trust - and hesitantly opens his mouth to let them sink inside

nikolai doesn't press them too deep, doesn't threaten his throat, but they are thick and wide; filling his mouth and comfortably weighing down his tongue

with a small, involuntary moan, soap closes his lips around his fingers and nikolai catches him with his body as he goes limp. he coos as he starts sucking; wrapping his other arm around his head and brings him into his body, hidden and safe and small

"my good, lovely boy," he whispers and soap lets out a cracked whimper. "you are not wrong."

he isn't ready yet, much the same way ghost wasn't ready at first. but feeling soap tremble and suckle at his fingers, nikolai knows he'll soon have another boy tucked safe to his breast

[3416]

December 23, 2024 | 📸: Dan Hamilton

[zaunbinary]

reasons why i think silco should be a champion

i think it’s funny

they say he can’t because he’s not really a fighter but singed and heimerdinger are playable characters a magic cat on a flying book is a champion i think silco can manage

i want stupid skins of him i want pool party silco in a gaudy patterned button up and socks and sandals (see surfer singed)

and most importantly, i think its really fucking funny

[arthur-lesters-topsurgeryscars]

Working on some sketches for a ref sheet of my John design ^^

+ close ups

[ceilidho]

https://www.tumblr.com/ceilidho/726402374591217664/honestly-tarzans-dad-is-very-price-and-you-with

Umm??????!!!!!!

I am deceased. The image of him stepping into view, cradling a little baby to his chest like it’s the most natural thing in the world??? I just felt my ovaries come to life.

He rescued the baby and then found you :((( that's his family :( maybe he saw the two of you when you were boarding the flight earlier and just nodded to himself like "gorgeous pair" but that was then. that was civilization. that was before he found a whimpering little baby somehow still alive after the crash, big teardrops making her cheeks all puffy and red, and then her mom, cast yards away.

[ccspostagebox]

Baby girl showdown on twitter,, vote John for best bbygirl of the series.

Thank you for coming to my tedtalk

[blueeyeddarkknight]

He eats like a 5 year old 👶🏻😆❤️.. Help! This man will be the death of me. 😩🥰

Bonus

[enarien]

Rookie, two days after joining tf 141:

Rookie: some of you are real idiots, and i'm saying that in a mean way

[dolly-is-cool]

ep 44 doodles!!

[elizareed]

St. John Rivers thinks he is the least fucked up person in the narrative but I dare say he is the most fucked up person in the book he's in and that's quite a feat considering the aforementioned work literally has a madwoman in the attic

[nucleqr]

i am feeling exceedingly normal this afternoon

[joonieskinks]

simon ghost riley is sometimes a little blunt (warning: smut)

You adore him for who he is, but it still unnerves you with just how blunt he can be at times.

It usually happens privately with just you:

“In about 5 minutes, I’m gonna eat you out.” He says as you are in the middle of The Goblet of Fire on the couch. You almost choked on your popcorn.

Or you’re doing laundry in the morning. “We need pineapple juice next time we’re out, want you to enjoy swallowin next time you’re suckin me off.” Jaw dropped.

He does it in front of the team too- and sometimes it’s even worse:

You accidentally dropped your lip balm onto the bar floor while fishing it out of your purse and bend to pick it up.

“Haven’t seen that angle in a while, dove. It’s been too long since we done doggy.”

It’s a never-ending series of eyebrow raises when Simon decides to open up his mouth and you’re around, needless to say. You brunt all of the embarrassment and the deep blushes, Simon couldn’t give a shit. He didn’t even clock it when John, Johnny and Kyle would all give him shocked looks. Man just owns it. Completely unbothered.

“Youre wearin the skirt you wear when you wanna get fucked. That your goal?”

“Simon!” You hiss, you can feel the red hot heat rush to your face.

But he just stares back at you in earnest, waiting for your response. You can hardly believe how composed he is when his Captain is right there glaring at him.

“So?”

“I need another beer.” John excuses himself, he can’t even look you in the eyes right now. Kyle joins him shortly after making a run for it, but you’re left with a quiet Johnny patiently waiting for you to respond. Eager, almost. Joy.

“You can’t just say things like that in public, especially not in front of your friends!” You lecture, pulling down your skirt in the process.

“Why? If you wanted to fuck, you could’ve just said so, love. Give me 2 to down this pint and I’ll meet you in the toilets, yeah?”

“Simon!” You smack his thigh.

“Can I watch?” Johnny asks excitedly.

“No!-“ “Fine.”

Johnny’s face lights up while yours turns slowly to give Simon a death stare.

“Do you want it or not?” You roll your eyes and throw your purse over your shoulder.

“You two are ridiculous.” And they watch you walk away.

Simon only shrugs, pounding back his beer before coming after you. Doesn’t make a difference to him if he fucks you here and now or at home and later.

“… so is that a no?” Johnny asks with puppy eyes.

[is-not-a-bell]

Sleepy King

The Justice League Dark caught wind of a cult trying to summon the Ghost King. A being with power so terrible and great, that all of the chaotic Infinite Realms feared him. A true tyrant. Long ago it took the effort of ghosts equal to gods to seal him away into a permeant slumber.

And now this cult wishes to wake him and bring him to the living realm. It was a race against the clock to find the ritual site and all members were called on board, magic or not. Even Constantine looked stressed.

They did find the site.

But it was too late, the ritual was completed. The entire inner circle of runes glowed before being swallowed in a column of green light. The air filled with static and a ringing that made Supergirl crumble to the ground.

The light dissipated, but there was no great figure or being of pure evil. Instead there was a boy, a teenager. He laid on the ground curled up in his sleep. He was a ghost no doubt, dressed in regal clothing.

Despite this when he stirred, everyone froze. It seemed the cold hard ground woke him up. He got up slowly and yawned, revealing his sharp fangs. Once sat up he opened his bleary eyes to look around. He looked confused and tired, really tired.

"Where am I?" He mumbled. "I was trying to get some sleep." Constantine internally screaming, latches onto that last sentence. He glances over to Batman. He caught that last part too. Batman approaches calmly and crouches down in front of the boy king. Hardening his resolve, Batman takes on a gentle tone.

"Hey kiddo, sorry we woke you. Lets get you back to bed yeah?" The boy nodded in agreement. He pulled himself to his feet before looking around in a circle. "Where did my blanket go?" He asked rather sadly. Batman is quick to shed his own cape and drape it over him. "You can borrow my cape until we get you a new one." He nodded again, pulling the black fabric around himself.

John quickly summoned a portal door, while Batman led the King through it. John threw looks around at everyone. Everyone could tell he was mouthing the words. 'Find me a fucking blanket now'

Running on the logic of getting the king away from Earth, away from graves and the undead, that could give him power. The portal led to the Watch Tower.

Batman took advantage of the King's bleary state to send a base wide alert for all noncritical members to evacuate immediately. With a priority that death adjacent members leave first. "The stars are pretty." Bruce looked at the boy staring out the window in wonder. He almost looked like a normal kid, almost.

"Yeah they are, it's pretty late so we should get you back to bed." He nodded, going along with Batman's gentle coaxing.

He takes the boy to an unused bedroom. Making sure the room isn't dusty and that lights are dimmed. He glances back to see about a dozen different leaguers all holding blankets, one thought to bring extra pillows. The bed was pretty barren with only a single pillow and a thin bedsheet. So Bruce took a thick duvet, one of the fluffier blankets and a second pillow from his team before shooing them away.

The boy ended up keeping his cape, mumbling how it was warm. He tucked the boy in, before quietly exiting the room and turning off the light. He was pretty sure the King fell back to sleep before he even reached the light switch.

After the door shut, he made direct eye contact with John. "Constantine." They needed to figure out what the hell was going on.

[rafesweetie]

in which you’re forced into having a talk with your ex-boyfriend, rafe cameron, on the boat ride to morocco.

being a pogue and rafe cameron’s ex was not easy. although you dated shortly before he killed peterkin, and you were sure he barely even remembered your favourite colour, seeing him blatanly disrespect you and his friends, and go down a path you tried so hard to prevent him from, was hard to watch. but now he’s picked himself up since ward died. you thought you had another chance to at least be on good terms. sending flowers and a card to tanneyhill when ward died, smiling at him when you’d see him around. it didn’t work, he still hated you and your friends.

fortunately, he redeemed himself ever so slightly by volunteering to take the pogues to morocco. rafe had to find chandler groff, you guys wanted the blue crown. it was perfect.

until jj punched him, that is. he knocked him out cold. with a scolding “jj!” coming from majority of the pogues, including you, jj carries him down into the downstairs washroom and ties his wrists to a pole. they don’t trust him, which is fair. you don’t either — you shouldn’t, anyway.

rafe was down there quietly for a mere half hour until he woke up with a groan from his head hitting the ground earlier, followed up with yelling once he realizes he was stuck down there.

all touching your noses and saying ‘not it’ the minute pope suggests someone going down there to check on him, you’re the unlucky one who said it last. shutting up your protests, john b gently coaxes you downstairs, saying things like, “you used to mack on him”, “this is good, you know him”, “he won’t hurt you,” john b leaves you downstairs once you make it to the door of the bathroom. knocking gently, you timidly ask, “can i come in?”

there’s no answer. you can picture him. wrists tied, brows furrowed, eyes closed tightly as his head leans against the wall and towards the ceiling. his gorgeous stressed face. you slowly open the door, peeking your head in. “hi,” you say gently, timid around the scary and aggressive man you have the curse of calling your ex.

“…hey,” rafe says, voice rough as he shuts his eyes tight.

unsure what to say, you awkwardly stand there and stare down at him. “um, i brought asprin,”

“right, right, like i can fuckin’ swallow it. what, you gonna throw it in my mouth like a.. seal or something?” sassy, his upper lip lifts a bit as he thinks about it and isn’t very fond of the idea.

a second of silence as you figure out what to say. “…um, ill just set it down here,” you say, putting the container down beside him. “sorry about your head.”

“yeah, uh, your little boyfriend can’t control his fists, huh?”

“…not my boyfriend,” you correct softly, though you’re not sure why you feel the need to tell him that. “but no one really.. trusts you, rafe, so you kind of brought this on yourself—“

he quickly interrupts you. “bullshit. you know why that’s bullshit? because i was helping. who got you this boat, huh? me. i did. rafe. i’m the reason that you guys aren’t swimming, or some shit, to north africa. i’m being helpful and understanding, and this is what i get. you think that’s fair?” when you’re stood there in silence at his sudden raised voice, he repeats, “you think that’s fucking fair, y/n!?” he kicks a can in anger.

it’s like you’re his girlfriend again as you sit down next to him instantly instead of running. you get deja vu to the time three years ago when he was high on coke and got kicked out of the house. everyone ignored him except for you. “..um, okay, i’m gonna give you some asprin,” you say softly. “help your head. open,” you tell him, grabbing a pill as he gives you a look but opens his mouth. you pop it in his mouth and he dry swallows. “there.”

you two share a look. you don’t think it’s a bad look by any means. he looks frustrated still, but there’s an underlying gentleness in his eyes, as if he registers you’re still the same girl you were when you two were together. “…and, um, for the record, i don’t think it’s fair that you’re down here. you helped us, thats.. nice.”

the word ‘us’ when referring to you and the pogues makes him feel weird. “i don’t get why you hang out with them,” he mutters as he looks at the ground. “tried so fucking hard to keep you away from them when we were.. together.”

“i know,” you whisper, your gaze dropping as well, to his tied wrists. you feel awful. “trust me, your warnings still play in my head when i’m with them sometimes,”

“you remind me of sarah.” he says. you’re not sure what that means.

“you hate sarah,”

“nah, nah— i don’t hate her. hate who she’s turned into,” he adjusts himself. “she makes me sad. i’m sad for her, alright? she had so much potential.“ he shrugs. “but there’s no saving her. she’s in too deep,” he looks back up at you again. “i think there’s saving you, though,”

“…this is weird, rafe,”

“how?” he asks.

“because in the years we’ve been broken up, you’ve never talked to me about this. feels like it’s a… trick or something,”

“it’s not a trick,” he assures, voice still rough. “look, i’m out half a mill, i’m tied up in a bathroom, i’m probably gonna.. die or something. i got nothing to lose, may as well tell you my concern,”

“um, i appreciate it,” you say gently, unsure how to respond. “and i’m gonna go back upstairs.”

“hey— no, woah, woah, woah,” he stops you quickly. “stay. okay?”

“i should go up and help with dinner, though—“

“no, stay. i— i want you to stay, okay? i don’t wanna be down here alone, and i want you away from the pogues,”

he doesn’t wanna be alone. you feel bad for him all over again, nodding gently as you sit back down beside him. you always were so good for rafe.

you’re not sure how long you’ll be down here with him. maybe until it’s late at night and he’s asleep. so gently, after about five minutes of silence, to ease some of the tension and pass the time, you murmur a, “truth or dare?”

rafe just smiles.