I Don’t Even Blame Luther For The Apocalypse But I Do Have Two Hands So I Can’t Deny That The Option

@elowenp hands over 🙇‍♂️🙇‍♂️ demoncat is actually my greatest weakness and this piece referencing this part (below) of their fic!!

the outfits r kinda generic but i was rlly happy how selina turned out. i will make more pieces based on their series “stay” but drops this n runs for now! this is my first time trying this layout, i didn’t rlly enjoy it but i was too deep to not not finish it 🫥 but i hope it is still not too bad!

fic is linked here, please give it a shot!! damian is rlly cute there but the demoncat dynamic hits like … rlly good.

Continuation of this and this

Pt. 3:

“Do you feel it too?” Adora asks Glimmer one day when she can’t hold it in any longer.

They’re eating dinner with Queen Angella and Bow. The table’s previous conversation, full of good humour and niceness, goes silent at her question.

“Feel what?” Glimmer asks carefully.

“Everything.” It’s not the right word for whatever it is but it’s the closest one she can think of. It makes Glimmer pause for a moment as she turns to look at Adora. Her gaze turns intense in a way that makes her look older, more like the Queen she might become one day.

“Only when I’m with you.” She says and Adora nods. It was sort of the answer she was expecting.

“Is it the same for the others?” Adora asks, because Glimmer isn’t the only person she knows who’s tied to the universe by chains of faith and stardust.

“Of course.”

A pause.

“I feel it all the time.” Adora says quietly.

Bow and Queen Angella exchange a look, half-knowing half-afraid. Glimmer just seems like she was expecting it though. Adora isn’t surprised by that, Glimmer is tied to the moonstone in a different way to her mother. Angella is connected to it in a way that’s full of magic and precision and order. Glimmer’s bonds with the moonstone are more hope and blood and chaos.

She-Ra is made of hope and blood and chaos. Adora might hate her for it if she hadn’t always been made of those things too.

~

link to Shana cause these lil drabbles are pretty much just me trying to copy her style

Watched Batman ninja and what an absolute fucking masterpiece would highly recommend

catra and bakugou are the same character in different fonts in this ted talk-

big fan of the genre that’s just “what if there was a fucked up city”

Oscar Pine is a good kid.

He has the best grades in his class, he helps out on the farm, he even listens to all of his aunt’s lectures about distant lands and monster slayers (although the last one isn’t hard). Oscar Pine is a good kid who wants to do great things in the future and, despite the fact that he comes from a tiny village in the middle of nowhere, he has just enough drive and intelligence and eagerness that he might even accomplish them.

Oscar Pine is a good kid with his whole life ahead of him. So when a voice in his head asks to merge their souls together, Oscar’s answer is a fairly emphatic ‘No’.

“Oh,” say Ospin and Osma and a thousand other lives. “Well that’s new.”

The gods did give humanity choice after all, and they’re hardly going to take it away now.

John Constantine is seventeen, angry and entirely ready to lose himself in the occult.

The open book in front of him details a particularly nasty ritual, but not one he’s unwilling to pay the price for. He bought the book from the shop on Eaton street, ‘Occult Exposition’. It’s not a nice shop. The clientele tend to be even dodgier than John and the owner always goes out of his way to make him as uncomfortable as possible.

John supposes that that’s just the price of authenticity.

The book is authentic. He knows that. One of the first things John learned was that the fakes always do well when it comes to flair but never quite catch the essence of a true ritual.

Fully set up in the back garden, John begins his ritual.

He chants and moves and shifts his thoughts in all the right directions. He slits the throat of a rabbit and cuts out the eye of the hawk that caught it. He spins a web of spider silk around the remains and watches it turn into a spun glass cage that contains something entirely different.

John lifts the same knife he used to cut out the hawks eyes and slit the rabbits throat, ready to plunge it into the beating heart the glass now contains.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” a voice calls out from behind him.

John spins around with his knife at the ready to defend himself. Instead if someone attacking him all John sees is a beautiful girl leaning against the dirty wall of his garden shed.

“Are you sure you want to stick around until the police come arrest you for trespassing?” he snarls, caught off guard.

The girl has the gall to roll her eyes. “As if you would call the police.” Considering the garden stinks of weed John supposes that the girl may have a point. “And anyway, I’m just giving you some sound advice. Nothing malicious about me at all.”

John narrows his eyes. “There aren’t many people who offer advice for free.”

“Well maybe I’m just feeling generous today.” the girl says with a grin. The smile drops promptly. “The blood rune won’t work, so you’re just going to be compelled to rip your heart out and eat it. Do you want to rip your heart out and eat it?”

John scoffs even as he sends the blood rune an uncertain look. “The rune is fine.”

The girl shoots him a withering look. “It has to be virgin's blood.”

“It is vir-“ John pauses. Resets. “Oh shit.”

“What? Are you still feeling lucky?”

“Fuck off.” John says on reflex. Then, “Thanks for telling me though. That could’ve been nasty.”

The girl finally smiles properly. Broad and shining and even John is forced to admit to himself that it’s a beautiful smile. “You’re very welcome. My name's Zatanna.” she says, sticking her hand out for him to shake.

“John.”

“I know,” she says with a wink as they clasp hands. “If you ever want a little more sound advice then just give me a call. Promise I’m a better option than you ever you got that book from.”

John raises an eyebrow. “Not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but what’s put you in such a sharing mood?”

“I said I was feeling generous.” Her expression softens. “I think you’re going to be powerful. The kind of powerful that’s going to get people killed if you don’t know how to handle it. Call me when you’re in trouble.”

When she finishes speaking a wind summons itself up around her. Twisting and twirling until she’s stood in the centre of a spinning tornado. The speed of the wind reaches a climax and dissipates all of a sudden, leaving behind no sign of Zatanna.

John takes a step towards the space she used to occupy and spots something on the ground. It’s a business card. Pristine white with edges sharp enough to cut through flesh. On the card is a name, ‘Zatanna Zatara’, and a phone number.

There are two ‘x’s handwritten below the number and they make John feel oddly warm.

“Fuck.” he says to empty air. “Fuck.”

He turns back to his aborted ritual and starts cleaning up the blood.

Paige leaves behind Carpenter and Faulkner in search of a new god.

She doesn’t really know how to go about such a thing. She’s more than well versed in strengthening a god, years of practice have made her far better at cultivating worship than any preacher, but the search for a god is something she lacks background in.

At a loss for what else to do, Paige drives.

She keeps the silence for a while. Hoping that being alone with her thoughts might lend her mind to some form of holy revelation. She manages to keep that up for almost twenty minutes before she sighs in anxious boredom and starts fiddling with the radio dial.

Static gives way to whispering voices gives way to a prophet of some new religion. Paige turns the sound up in sudden interest.

“-dream is to create. Dear listeners, we have reached a new stage. An apotheosis, if you will. I have metamorphasised from a decaying, droning worker, asleep to all the things that matter, to a new man with new purpose in my heart. I have gone from a sacrifice to something sacred. Something new. My god saw me about to devote myself to a deity of unholiness and was so gracious as to call me to something deserving of my worship. And, in answer to that calling, let us sing our next hosanna-“

Paige keeps listening to the radio, fighting against the tiredness nipping at the edges of her consciousness as she does so. There’s banging in the background, the soundproofing of the room the host is in quieting it enough that you don’t hear it at first, but it’s certainly there. Sometimes it drops away, presumably when whoever’s trying to get into the recording booth succumbs to the sleep that Paige is fighting so valiantly against. It keeps coming back and Paige thinks that a lot of people must be very desperate to get this man to stop worshiping his god.

Coming to a decision, Paige pulls over and gets a map out to try and find the radio station this prophet must be broadcasting from. She wants a new god after all, a gentler one than any she’s been provided with so far. And even if this man's god is not her god, and Paige suspects that it is not, then maybe he’ll still be able to tell her how to birth something she can worship. Just like he did.

DID YOU HEAR ABOUT TIM

Asdhovhoigdittekbbknc

I wrote a fic based on this!

The link

Amity joins the Emperor’s Coven

Amity Blight is perfect.

She has perfect grades and a perfect family and is exactly the kind of person that’s going to grow up and fit in perfectly at the Emperor’s Coven. When Lilith isn’t busy being proud of her she can’t help but feel a little jealous of the child for never having to be second best to anyone.

That’s all until the human arrives.

Before Lilith can even begin to process the situation Amity is deviating from the careful path of perfection Lilith has so painstakingly laid out for her. She still has perfect grades and she’s still the youngest daughter of the Blight family, all that prestige and none of it tying her down, but suddenly her allegiances are questionable.

She’s spending too much time with the human. Too much time with Eda. Too much time with people who could steer her away from the path she must take.

So before things can go too awfully, before Eda can ruin this perfect little girl like she ruins everything else, Lilith makes a proposal.

“How would you like to become the youngest member of the Emperor’s Coven?” She says, all warmth and approval in the way she knows the girl’s parents never are.

Amity’s face lights up and Lilith tries not to think too much about how the guilt churning in her stomach makes her feel a little like when she cursed her sister.