#canon setting

[massgrav]

Back with more pØrn. Gift for the lovely @jirving <3

[desuke13]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 原神 | Genshin Impact (Video Game) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Alhaitham/Kaveh (Genshin Impact) Characters: Kaveh (Genshin Impact), Alhaitham (Genshin Impact) Additional Tags: Top Kaveh/Bottom Alhaitham (Genshin Impact), Top Kaveh (Genshin Impact), Bottom Alhaitham (Genshin Impact), Sex, Boys Love - Freeform, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Kavetham

Summary: Alhaitham's expression didn't budge in slightest, but silence was a reply. Kaveh frowned as he waited patiently until he let out a sigh. He moved forward and kissed Alhaitham's lips lightly, trying to earn more reaction from his housemate. Alhaitham still won't say anything for a moment, but his appraising stare wouldn't lie.

"…You really wanted to avoid this topic so bad that you choose to have sex with me despite being tired?" ---- KaveTham/Headcanon verse/Oneshot

[kaisarion-tactical]

Dinner Date | O'Breckenridge

A soft piece about these awkward, adorable idiots about an interaction that never got to happen.

EB -> SO: Sorry, change of plans. Meet me in the mess for dinner?

SO -> EB: No problem. I’ll find you later.

The news that they’d been cleared of suspicion in Cliffords’ death was a relief to hear, but Eisley knew that it meant back to work. She couldn’t help feeling disappointed, knowing that it meant a change in her plans with Séan. She’d gotten excited about the idea of spending the afternoon together, just hanging out like two normal people, a pocket of normalcy amid all the chaos and suspicion of everything else going on. 

No rest for the wicked, she supposed. 

She pulled out her phone and fired off a quick text message, smiling sadly at Séan’s quick response and flexibility about the change in plans. The way that she could hurt this man if she wasn’t careful. 

She listened as Kit provided an update on the situation, and the squad discussed the next course of action. More hacking into personnel and other files, identifying people worth talking to for information gathering purposes. Sgt. Hadrin had been on security detail that night; Eisley would need to talk to him, find out if he saw anyone unusual in the barracks that evening.

After a few hours of focused research and discussion, Eisley stood. “I’m going to mess for dinner. You coming?” she asked Rachel who was hovering over her laptop, typing furiously. 

“Yeah, in a bit,” Rachel replied.

Eisley sighed. “Don’t just subsist on Red Bull, okay? I’ll bring you something back.”

She made her way to the mess, letting herself be carried by the flow of bodies through the hall. She made her way through the line: some chicken dish, a rare occasion that they actually had a real piece of meat. Scanning the tables, she caught sight of at a table with a few other soldiers and made her way over. 

She slowed when several sets of eyes turned toward her as she approached. Séan grinned when he saw her, and the others dropped their eyes back to their dinner, although Eisley could still feel the occasional lingering glance. 

“Sorry I had to change plans this afternoon. Kit showed up right as I was getting ready, and well… duty calls, all that.”

“Hey, no problem. I get it. Things change at the drop of the hat. It’s the nature of the job.” 

Eisley smiled. She found Séan’s foot beneath the table, knocking her boot against his. She glanced up and Séan was watching her, and they held each other’s gaze for a long minute before Eislely looked away, a soft blush colouring her cheeks. A moment passed and there was an answering tap of a boot against her own beneath the table. 

“I was thinking next time we have an opportunity, we should go to the range.”

“The range?” Séan returned. “What for?”

Eisley, eyes still downcast, shrugged. “I want to see you shoot. Maybe we could have a friendly competition.”

Eisley could hear the smile in Séan’s voice. “Yeah?”

She glanced up briefly. “Yeah.” 

There was another tap of a boot against hers beneath the table, except this time there was sustained contact. Eisley could feel her face heating again. They might as well have been holding hands. Her finger clenched around her fork at the thought. 

“Where are you on shift tonight?” she asked.

“Exterior checkpoint duty. Why? You planning to come say hi?”

Eisley rolled her eyes. “Just curious and making conversation. It’s probably not a great idea to distract you while you’re on shift.” 

A small smile pulled at Séan’s mouth. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said, but he tapped his foot against hers against the table once more. 

Eisley narrowed her eyes. “Tell me,” she pressed.

Séan’s ears went red. “I’d be distracted anyway,” he admitted. 

Eisley couldn’t handle this, her face hot once more at Séan’s words. “I said I’d bring something back for Rach since I don’t trust that she’ll eat dinner otherwise. We’ll make plans. For the shooting range.”

“Right. Just shoot me a text. You know where to find me.”

Eisley hovered for a few more seconds before picking up her empty tray and weaving her way through the tables and back into the line, ignoring the lingering glances as she went. 

[chloesimaginationthings]

What if Henry found Springtrap first in FNAF..

[egophiliac]

everyone out of the way, this is the only thing I'm going to be thinking about from now on.

(okay, there is one more thing)

[sparrowlucero]

The Taxidermist (or the Mousemeister, as it would call itself). A patchwork creature that uses its golden sheers to snip the person away and leave only a verminous beast, in the hopes of finding new and interesting body parts to replace its old decaying form. The useless animals are doomed line its quilted burrows as handmade furniture and the ever-present smell of mouse soup.

[milktrician]

(what the. who threw a wife plot device in the middle of a peak lord meeting)

i thought about this bit at the end of the airplane extras the other day. bro why are you looking at your coworkers like that rn

[ruporas]

kiss of the divine

[bread-wizards]

Yasha, I'm so sorry to objectify your wife, but how do you work out? Like, what do you do? Because this such an amazing-- the abs.

[y-yyak]

(gideon has no idea what she’s doing)

speech bubble ver.

[spookberry]

Half Normie au! Tucker whenever Danny's not visiting him in oregon

[grabyourcrucifix]

Lloyd has the upper hand. But for how long?

Safe House: Run Like Hell (pt.5)

Chaos breaks out.

Warnings: these drabbles will containt dark content, including blood, violence, possible rape/noncon, and my usual fare. Your content consumption is your responsibility. If you proceed past this warning, you are consenting to reading sensitive content.

As per usual, I would love feedback. I didn’t expect to write this character so for this, I’d love to know if anyone wants to see more.

You stand tipsily in the kitchen door as you watch the stranger dress. Your eyes linger on the dark tattoos across arms and chest as you sip cluelessly from the tall glass. You teeter on the high heels and stumble to set down the mostly empty cup.

He looks up as he pulls a dark tee over his head, fixing his hair as he scowls.

"What are you doing?" He hisses as he lifts the dark bag off the floor and unzips it.

"I should ask you the same," you slur.

"Goddamnit," he curses as he digs his hand into the knapsack, "I wish you weren't drunk right now."

You stick your tongue out at him tritely, "why?"

"Because," he pulls out a long barreled gun and checks the chamber, then the stock, "it's gonna make this harder."

"What the fuck? Why do you have a gun?" You nearly shout.

He hushes you as he tucks it into the waist of his pants and digs out ammo, shoving it in his jacket pocket, "quiet."

He motions with his hand and listens, brows furrowing. He hooks the bag over his shoulders and nears you.

"Take those things off," he nudges your shoe with his toe.

"Don't tell me what to do–"

His hand covers your mouth suddenly and pulls you against him, "quiet."

He traps you between him and the wall as he reaches to his belt. He pulls out the gun and angles it up, listening in the rustling silence of the city street outside. He looks at you and slowly peels his palm away, pressing his finger to his lips before pointing to your feet.

Startled by his abrupt shift in demeanour, you bend to undo your shoes and step out of them. He signals with two fingers and you hand him one. He leans back, staring over at the door, and lobs the heel at it.

As it hits the wood, the door splinters a silenced bullet blast through. You squeak as the stranger shoulders you behind him, "stay close."

He aims and shoots out the bulb above, casting the apartment into darkness, only paled by slats streaming in from the windows. He motions you towards them as his figure looms near the entryway. Metal hits on metal and the door creaks open, laughter ringing out sinisterly.

"Six…" the single syllable is drawn out, "you didn't think you could hide forever, did you?"

You recognise the voice, even without the music pounding in your eardrums. You stand, dumbfounded as the stranger, Six, keeps his aim at the end of the hall.

"Fire escape," he snarls.

You blink and finally get some sense. You quietly creep over to the window as footsteps start down the short entryway. Six ducks suddenly and a shot pierces the plaster, sending up powder just above his head.

"I know you're waiting for me," the other man sneers, "you come out now and I'll let the girl go."

Silence, no answer as Six stays low and backs up, waving you on.

"Or at least, I'll be gentle, wipe her tears away as I ruin her holes–"

Another shot, this time from Six.

"Fuck!" The intruder snarls, "fuck, that was a good one. Pretty fucking close."

The man's shadow looms, distorted as light peers in from the hallway behind him.

"But, like I said, I'm not that fucking stupid."

Something thumps on the floor and rolls onto the carpet. Six lowers his gun and races towards you, urging you to the window. The silhouette disappears as he rips the window open and shoves you out.

You fall over the sill as he sidles out behind you, a sudden blast knocking him off his feet and crushing you against the escape as he shields you from the force of it.

Your ears ring as you crumple beneath him, your chest tight as you can't draw in air. You touch your temples as you try to hear, paralysed as he tries to pull you up to your feet. He shakes off the explosion as he shouts at you, his voice dulled by the echoes of the boom.

He slings you over his shoulder and grips the rail, leaning on it as you bounce uncomfortably with his clattering steps. He staggers down the last few steps and turns, firing another shot as another pings off the metal escape beside you.

"Go," he says through the fog as he puts you down, "down the ladder."

You cling to the railing as your legs shake the jello, wobbly and weak. He pushes you against the wall as another shot tears by.

"Now!" He hollers.

You scramble onto your knees and squeeze through the opening as you latch onto the rungs. You feel as if you're falling, barely able to take each step down as he follows, nearly stomping your hands as he wastes no time.

"Hurry up," he snaps down at you but no shots come. He aims up as if expecting a bullet.

You drop down, a twinge in your ankle as a pebble stabs into your bare sole. He lands beside you, barely jarred by impact as he grabs your wrist and pulls you down the alley.

"Keep moving, sweetheart," he flings you ahead of him, "run."

"What–"

"Stop asking why and do what I fucking say," he growls as he checks his gun, "this asshole doesn't stop."

You gulp and obey, scurrying off as he follows, keeping an eye over his shoulder as he braces his gun. You rush down to the end of the alley and onto the street.

You turn without direction, not sure where to go. You could ask but he doesn't seem to know either. Down to the corner as he follows a few feet back, turning to aim every few steps, then trailing closer.

A car screeches up as you get to the curb and you stop short. A shot rings out, barely missing you and bounces off the black metal of the vehicle. A dark laugh as a barrel flashes from inside, a click in warning.

"Do it again, Six, and I won't hesitate to shoot through her."

"This isn't about her," Six calls back as you stand paralysed at the end of the mustachioed menace's barrel, "let her go."

The man scoffs and clucks, "nah, I don't think so." He wiggles his gun at you, "get in, sunshine."

You huff and puff as your adrenaline surges. You can't move. You sense Six looming as his shadow shifts and the other man tuts.

"Another move and you can scrape her off the sidewalk," he warns, "baby cakes, be a good girl and get in the fucking car."

You wince and glance back. There's a look of helplessness on Six's face you've never seen on him. He's always certain, always fearless. At least for those few nights you've been around him. A subtle nod.

You turn, slowly walking to the car and reaching for the door. Your feet are heavy, hands clumsy. You open it and lower yourself blindly.

"I'll find you," Six says but you're not sure if it's for you or the man in the driver's seat.

"Sure you will, stud," the man snickers, "close the fucking door, babe."

As you shut the door, the window rolls up and a bullet glances off it. He slams on the gas pedal, tires squealing as he speeds off down the dark street, a chuckle crackling in your ears.

"Oh, sunshine, you're about to have a whole lotta fun."

[hinamie]

realizing how much i like drawing him a million years too late :<

[kaisarion-tactical]

KT | Everything’s A Mess

Uh, this is me processing a MCD. So, here is 2500 words of that! Obvious cw for death, graphic violence.

+

Exhaustion clung to Eisley as she sank onto her bunk with a heavy sigh. Sleep pulled at her eyelids as she undid her shoes, slipping them off and tucking them neatly away beneath the foot of her bunk. Despite the desperate, clawing need to sleep, Eisley resisted, mind still too busy with all the things that had happened that day, still replaying the way Sean’s voice had sounded on the audio recording when he’d asked McIntosh, “What are you doing?”

But there was nothing else to be done.

The squad was off the investigation until further notice, Sean and the crime scene were in the hands of the forensics team, and to the best of their knowledge McIntosh was in the wind. The best and only thing Eisley could do right now was sleep. 

It would be so easy, to just lay down and let her eyes slip closed, to escape into sleep until the harsh realities crashed back over her in the morning.

Sleep continued to tug insistently at her lids, and soon enough her eyes were closing on their own, breath evening out as sleep took her.

+

Eisley blinked as her eyes adjusted to the sudden harsh glare of the florescent lighting. She was standing in the hallway outside McIntosh’s office, although everything was distorted and out of focus like looking in a Fun House mirror. She could hear voices on the other side of the door. Two voice. Male. The voices were low and tense, and Eisley realized that this must be the conversation Sean and McIntosh had after she and Rachel had left. Her stomach tightened at the realization. 

The door opened and McIntosh stepped out into the hall, Sean close behind. 

Eisley followed as they moved through the building and outside, traversing all the places they passed through on the audio recording before they arrived at the armory. Their voices as they talked were muted, as though Eisley was listening from under water.

It was odd, observing their interaction from this perspective. The rest of the base personnel they passed by were empty, faceless, no more clear than any of the other physical details of the base that had become so familiar. 

Sean entered the armory first, with McIntosh following behind. Was there someone else inside? It occurred to Eisley that someone would have been on shift, that someone might have been a witness. The detail prickled along her skin, but it was secondary, unimportant in the moment. 

As they crossed the threshold to the armory, it was like Eisley had emerged from the water, sight and sound coming into sudden harsh relief. Sean and McIntosh’s voices almost seemed too loud.

“…this is where I met her, you know,” Sean was saying to McIntosh who nodded disinterestedly. 

Sean continued talking, and McIntosh kept an easy distance, making an acknowledging sound from time to time but clearly not listening. 

Sean turned to look at McIntosh, and the comfortable smile on his face slipped as he got sight of the other man.“What—”

There was a knife in McIntosh’s hand.

“What are you doing?” Sean said, backing further into the armory. He had his hands up, cautiously defensive of his friend in front of him. There was the clatter of something on a nearby shelf as Sean bumped into it and then McIntosh was rushing him, sinking the blade into the center of Sean’s chest.

Sean’s face was painted in pained confusion as McIntosh dragged the blade down before he pulled it out with a sick wet sucking noise. A second later he had the pin of a grenade between his teeth, fist forcing its way into the profusely bleeding wound in Sean’s chest. When it withdrew it was empty.

McIntosh gave Sean a shove, and he went stumbling backward in pain and horror at what was about to happen.“Mac—” he tried to say before there was the muted sound of an explosion and the walls of the armory were painted in crimson. 

Eisley gagged, remembering what it was like to stand in the room as it was, the overwhelming sight of so much blood.

McIntosh stood for a long minute, looking at Sean’s prone, lifeless body laying in a pool of blood on the floor. His face was blank. Impassive. Then suddenly he was moving, stepping through the steadily growing pool on the floor to kneel at Sean’s head, twirling the knife in his fingers before he set the blade slicing through the skin of Sean’s neck.

Eisley wanted to look away. Didn’t want to watch the way that McIntosh methodically worked until finally he had Sean’s head in his hands. The entire time his face remained neutral, as though this was routine. Unremarkable. As though he hadn’t just killed a close friend and mutilated his body. 

As he rose from the floor, knees soaked in blood, face decorated with a fine mist of red, his eyes settled on where Eisley watched, frozen, from the corner.

+

Eisley sat up in bed with a wet gasp, sobbing. 

She shoved the blankets off her legs—someone had covered her at some point, although she was still in her fatigues—and raced to find a garbage can. Her stomach heaved until there was nothing left (there was barely anything to start with).

The touch of a hand on her back startled her. “Hey, it’s just me. It’s Rach.”

Eisley set the trash can aside, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth as she turned to wrap her arms around Rach’s waist, fresh tears soaking the fabric of her sleep pants. 

“Hey, hey…” Rach said, sinking to the floor with Eisley and wrapping her arms around her. “You’re okay. It’s okay.”

Footsteps behind them as Nasi approached, quietly sinking to the floor next to them and wrapping a comforting hand around Eisley’s ankle. 

“Want to tell us what happened?” Rach asked cautiously, but Eisley shook her head. She didn’t think she could explain even if she wanted to. “Okay, that’s fine.”

Eventually Eisley calmed enough that Rach and Eisley could get her back into bed. Nasi set the trash can near the bed, just in case. 

In the morning, no one said anything. They didn’t need to. It wasn’t hard to figure out what the likely cause was. And they knew by now that if Eisley needed to talk about things, she’d let them know. 

The day following the murder was filled with planning and action. While they’d been removed from the investigation, they had no intention of resting on their laurels until they’d been given approval to return. Not when McIntosh could be anywhere by now. 

Eisley obtained the unredacted version of McIntosh’s file from Fox and spent a good portion of the morning picking out relevant information before she made a few calls to some contacts, enlisting their help.

Off the books, of course.

That done, she went to find Hanson from Squad 1, armed with questions and extremely short patience. 

Any time that wasn’t spent information gathering was spent in the gym where Eisley sparred with anyone who offered or worked herself to exhaustion lifting weights and on the treadmill. 

By lights out she was fighting the familiar pull of sleep on her eyelids, and this time she didn’t resist, sliding into bed and letting sleep take her.

+

Once more Eisley found herself standing outside of McIntosh’s office. Everything had the same strange Fun House mirror effect, although it was different this time, lessened somewhat. Things felt more real and familiar. Most likely her brain filling in the details.

The dream went the same as the previous night. Following Sean and McIntosh as they moved from place to place, their words thick and syrupy, with the occasional blip of clarity. 

Soon enough they were arriving at the armory.

Eisley hesitated outside, as though if she delayed going in it would delay what was about to happen. But even from outside she could hear their voices, the way the thick, syrupy quality disappeared as they stepped through the door and everything came into sharp focus. 

She stood at the door, hand on the door handle, listening. She didn’t need to see what was going to happen. The memory of the previous nightmare still lingered like an after image.

Eventually she couldn’t resist any longer and she opened the door and stepped inside. It was like arriving at the armory the day of. The walls and floor soaked in blood. She could see Sean’s feet around the corner and she moved towards him, already knowing what she would see as she approached.

Except this time it was different.

McIntosh was crouched over the body, yes. But this time there was a wild, manic look in his eyes. His lips were pulled back in a malicious snarl, teeth flecked with blood as he sliced his knife through the flesh of Sean’s throat with enthusiasm. 

Eisley’s stomach churned as she watched. In the previous version, McIntosh had worked methodically, efficiently. Now he worked carelessly, less focused. As though he was playing

As though sensing her discomfort, his eyes flickered up to where she stood at Sean’s feet — far closer than she’d been the last time — and the snarl twisted up into some approximation of a smile. He paused in his butchery, wiping a bloody hand across his chin, leaving a dripping streak in its wake. They remained there, McIntosh staring up at Eisley, and she look down at the scene in horror. 

“Why?” Eisley felt herself say, her mouth moving but no sound accompanying it.

McIntosh’s twisted smile turned cruel, his eyes glittering and dark.“You didn’t deserve him,” McIntosh said, and Eisley flinched. Stepped back like she’d been hit. 

She woke in her bed once more, pillow damp with tears. The trash can had been set by her bed again, just in case.

+

Another day of waiting on information, on the top brass to decide that they were allowed to resume their investigation. Another day circling the drain wondering why, why, why? 

At the very least, Clark had made some further progress with Cecelia and they were slowly accumulating more information about what she was being used for and what Cog was up to, although how all the pieces fit together had yet to become clear. 

The downtime provided an opportunity to consider the things they’d already ask Cecelia and refine their questions to get more specific answers, to create new avenues for inquiry. But after weeks of chasing leads and being run around, asking questions was starting to get tiring. 

“How’re you doing, Eis?” Rach asked, sitting at the foot her her bunk where Eisley lay, fighting back another jaw cracking yawn.

“’M fine. Just having some trouble sleeping.”

Rach nodded. “Understandable, given everything.”

Eisley covered her mouth at another yawn, eyes watering as she fought sleep. “I keep dreaming about it.”

“About what?”

“The murder.”

“What d’you mean?”

Eisley shifted to sit up on one elbow. “It’s like, we listened to the audio—”

“Right.”

“And for the last few days I’ve been—it’s like I’m there, following them from McIntosh’s office to the armory, seeing it all happening.”

“Including…?”

She swallowed. “Yeah. Including…” A sigh. “I think I’m just so desperate to know why? The first time it was like, McIntosh was unaffected. Like it didn’t matter that he was killing his friend. It could have been anybody. Completely emotionless. But then the other night, after the grenade, when he’s—” Eisley swallowed hard again. “It’s like he was this maniac. Eyes wild, malicious grin, like he was enjoying what he was doing.”

“Christ, Eisley. I can’t imagine what that must be like.”

Another yawn.

“Is that why you’re fighting sleep so hard right now?”

Eisley nodded.

“Want me to say up with you for a bit?”

“Sure. How are things going with Clark? Ever going to take her up on her offer to “hang out”?”

+

The armory again. Different again. 

McIntosh was quiet as ever, only responding to Sean with the occasional noise of acknowledgement as he prattled on about all the things he’d missed while he was away. 

This time, when Sean turned to look at McIntosh, to take in the sight of him with a knife in his hands, McIntosh’s eyes were glassy with tears, his lip trembling.“What are you doing?” Sean asked, and this time McIntosh didn’t immediately rush him with the knife. There was clear hesitation in his movements, a tremble in the hand that held the blade. 

This time Sean had time to fight back, to run, to do something to save himself, but he remained in place, watching his friend with pleading eyes.

And then McIntosh was stepping forward, pressing the blade into his chest, and fat tears were rolling down his cheeks as he did so. He held it there, staring into Sean’s surprised eyes before the blade was being forced down, creating an opening.

Eisley turned away, hands pressed to hear ears. Didn’t need to see or hear what was coming next. 

Wake up, wake up, wake up!! she screamed silently, but the scene continued to progress, a train on a track that wouldn’t stop until it reached its grizzly end.

When Eisley turned around, McIntosh was once more kneeling at Sean’s head. His cheeks were red and blotchy as he stroked a blood stained hand through Sean’s hair. His shoulders shook with silent sobs as he kneeled there, taking in the reality of what he had done. 

This time when he began with the knife, his movements were slow, restrained, unsure. More like he was forcing himself to do it. He stopped often. A few times Eisley was sure that he was going to be sick. But as every time before, he completed his task. McIntosh turned blood shot eyes and a tear stained faced towards Eisley, and as their eyes met, she woke up.

+

Eventually they get a lead, something actionable. 

The dreams don’t stop, but they stop coming every night. Every time it’s different.

Eisley can’t decide which version is the worst. The ones where McIntosh is impassive and removed from what he’s doing or the ones where he’s in anguish. There are no good options. There is no good explanation. There is no resolution.

Sean is dead.

There’s no coming back from that. 

Everything is a mess, and all they can do is try to move forward. 

[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."

[egophiliac]

(almost) four years in, and I finally had time to draw something for the anniversary! woo! 🎉🎉🎉