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silverspectre51 · 5 months ago

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Summoning the Boy King

Darkseid was rampaging through Metropolis, Superman was injured, and the Justice League was desperate. As the League hid between fallen skyscrapers, John Constantine prepared a last-ditch effort to save the Earth.

The Hellblazer drew an intricate sigil on the ground; its circular design stretching over six feet in diameter. Most of the symbols within were space-related, while the others were themed to royalty. Batman, one of the few heroes in-the-know, grunted.

"Are you sure this king ghost can help?"

Constantine sighed and pinched his nose.

"He's the High King of the Infinite Realms, Bats, an' he's bloody powerful. He'll stop Darkseid, alright, but what he does afterward is anyone's guess. Believe me, I wouldn't be doin' this if we had a choice."

Batman sighed and glanced at the smoke-filled horizon.

"Alright, get on with it, then. We're running out of time."

Constantine nodded and placed a single offering in the center of the sigil: a squishmallow of Disney's iconic blue alien, Stitch.

"I beg your finest pardon," Batman sputtered, "What on Earth is that?"

Constantine sighed again as he took his position at the edge of the sigil.

"Mate, the book was very specific. Unlike his predecessor, the new king requires a single offering of space or alien theme that is suitable for children. It's bloody strange, but beggars can't be choosers."

Batman just shook his head and looked on. Constantine raised his hands and started the summoning chant. An eerie, green glow spread across the sigil, and light fog gathered above it. Little white orbs floated up from the ground and spiraled together, forming the slowly spinning visage of a spiral galaxy.

"Incredible..." Zatanna gasped, "This summoning is on a level all its own. This king of yours is on the level of Gods."

Finally, something began to form over the small galaxy. Batman's expression quickly softened, much to the surprise of his teammates. It was mere seconds before they understood, as a black blob full of white stars formed into the shape of a boy. The blob had spiky 'bangs' if you could call them that and eerie, glowing green eyes.

The squishmallow floated into the boy's arms and he squeezed it excitedly. At the same time, he took on a far more human form, with pale skin and snowy white hair. His eyes had whites now but still glowed green. He was dressed in black and white, royal attire with green accents, a black crown floating in a green aurora, and a black ring with a green stone. A black cape flowed down his back, its underside looking as if it were cut from a clear night sky.

"Awesome offering, dude! What can I do for ya?"

The voice was a reedy tenor in the throes of puberty, and its owner was more than a little geeky. The boy's smile was infectious, or it would have been were it not for the specific circumstance.

"How old are you?" Batman asked, his tone soft, "We weren't expecting a child."

The boy waved him off like it was nothing.

"No one ever does. And, um... technically I'm fifteen. I know, I don't look it."

Constantine cut in, clearly out of patience.

"Look, this monster Darkseid is destroying our world. We need you to stop him."

The boy turned in the air and took in the destruction around him. Somehow, he seemed to understand the situation immediately.

"Okay, but I gotta get permission first. This'll take a lot of power." He paused, taking a breath, and then yelled in a strange language. "Mom!"

Constantine paled and the other heroes shrank back as a green portal tore into existence. A young woman, barely an adult herself, floated out. She had waist-length blue hair and the same glowing, green eyes. She wore a royal outfit in white and maroon, complete with a glittering, silver tiara studded with rubies.

"What's the matter, Danny? Are you okay?"

Danny nodded.

"Mhmm! These guys need me to take out this Darkseid guy, though. Can I use my full power?"

Constantine snuck a drink from his flask. He did not sign up to deal with the fucking Queen Mother of the Infinite Realms, nor had he known she existed. God, he needed a smoke...

The Queen Mother smiled softly and pressed a kiss to her son's forehead. She spoke whilst taking his new plush.

"Yes, Danny, you may. Let me hold onto this for you so it doesn't get dirty."

Danny nodded and turned away.

"Okay, thanks mom!"

The Queen Mother vanished through and with the portal she had created. Moments later, Danny shot off into the city, with the remaining able-bodied heroes hot on his trail. The young king reached Darkseid rather quickly, engaging him while the Leaguers looked on from cover. Darkseid was foolishly amused.

"A child dares oppose me? Flee, whelp."

Batman tensed as Darkseid unleashed his Omega Effect. Two red beams shot from his eyes, and yet the young king floated firm. Two eerie, green beams shot from his own eyes and, to the shock of everyone, overpowered his foe's. Darkseid shattered into many tiny pieces which then vanished into thin air.

"Man, he really wasn't smart!" Danny grinned, "Who fires a death beam at the king of the dead?"

He received no response, as the heroes were too stunned to speak. Smiling, he saluted the group before tearing open another portal.

"Oh well; villain gone, carry on. Later guys!"

Batman glared at Constantine, but the Brit had already absconded. Heaving a sigh, he resigned himself to this new reality. Darkseid was gone, but there was an incredible new power to worry about.

(Note: My only source of information is DP canon, DP fanon, and the Justice League cartoons from the early '00s. I apologize for any inaccuracies with Batman's or Constantine's behavior.)

#danny phantom #jazz fenton #dp x dc #dc x dp #john constantine #ghost king danny phantom #ghost jazz #space geek danny #boy king danny

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kettlefire · 6 months ago

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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."

#danny phantom #danny fenton #phandom #dc x dp #batman #dcxdp #dp x dc #dp x dc au #dp x dc crossover #justice league #I've been toying with the idea of following Pariah Dark's end the zone abolished the idea of a one true king #instead setting up a counsel of the most trusted ghosts and deities with in the zone; including Pandora and Clockwork #I also like to vote for Technus to be on the counsel and Ghostwriter to be like the secretary/note taker #after Ghostwriter stopped being an asshole ofc ofc #I kinda have this list of specific details I've created for this idea and like I keep thinking up new ones #like the Phamily's backstory is somewhat canon complaint with the show but also a whole mess of complex shit #like the expanse of Danny turning into phantom and the events that occurred still did except technically they never did #it's clockwork's time mumbo jumbo type of shit #Ellie had to be deaged some to help stabilize her core so I'm roughly saying she's like 7-8 years old #but idk children so idk how a 7-8 year old actually looks or how they usually act or talk #The JL seriously don't know if they should be hopeful or not but Dan's grin and excitement makes it seem more promising #I like to imagine Bruce is just watching Dan with Ellie and Danny trying to figure out if he's actually a good father or not #people being surprised to find out that Ellie Danny and Dan are all technically orphaned siblings #while Dan is just trying to coparent his siblings with the help of a time god an earth goddess a princess and a dirtbag with a motorcycle #dan phantom #ellie phantom #I can go on and on so I'll force myself to stop now #long post

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sleepingdiaryzzz · 3 months ago

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After reading your thing on Yan!YoungJustice x MagicUser!Reader I got an idea.

Scenario where in the middle of a training exercise (or maybe out in the field?) Reader is doing a spell and all that, y’know?

But then Kid Flash (Wally) trips and falls flat on his face in a miserable display, and Reader just loses all focus on their spell, despite being in the middle of a battle, and just… bursts out laughing at Wally.

Like, a genuine laugh, the kind that has you wheezing for breaths. Maybe they were even floating in the air when doing the spell and they fall without care as they laugh at Wally’s expense.

From 🪼

Yandere young Justice x magician! Reader

The air crackled with energy as you floated above the team, your eyes closed in concentration. The battle raged below you, but to you, it was little more than a distraction—a necessary annoyance. Your hands moved in a fluid, practiced motion, drawing sigils in the air as you muttered an incantation under your breath. You were far above the chaos, detached, focused entirely on the magic at your fingertips.

The rest of the team was doing their part—Wally zipped around the field, darting in and out of combat with a grin plastered on his face, his usual energy never seeming to wane. Artemis was steady with her arrows, Connor was keeping a watchful eye, and Robin was darting from one target to another, his movements precise. Yet, none of them were enough to distract you. You were the only one who didn't seem to be feeling the adrenaline, the only one unaffected by the clash of powers below.

That was, until—

Wally tripped. It wasn’t just a stumble or a slip. No, it was a full-on faceplant. His legs flew out from under him, and in a miserable display of grace, he tumbled forward, his arms flailing helplessly before his face met the ground with a wet smack. His mask tilted sideways, revealing a mix of confusion and mild embarrassment.

And suddenly, you were lost.

The spell you had been weaving evaporated like smoke in the wind, the sigils vanishing into nothingness as you burst out laughing—genuine, uncontrollable laughter. It started small, just a chuckle, but then it grew. Your chest heaved, your laughter shaking you so much that you could barely stay in the air. You felt weightless, utterly carefree, as the sight of Wally, sprawled and hopeless on the ground, consumed you.

Your laughter was loud, too loud for the battlefield, and it made the others stop in their tracks. Even Wally, now sitting up and rubbing his nose, couldn’t help but chuckle weakly, but he was still painfully aware of your gaze. He was used to being the one who made others laugh with his antics, but this time—this time, he was the one being laughed at.

And you? You could barely stop laughing. You let yourself fall from the air, no longer caring about the battle or the magic you had been controlling. You landed with a soft thud, still giggling so hard that your sides ached. You didn’t even bother to hold it back, letting the joy of the moment flow freely.

“Wally,” you gasped between laughs, your voice catching in your throat, “You’re a disaster.”

The team stood frozen for a moment, processing what had just happened. Robin blinked, confused by the sudden outburst. You never laughed. Not like that. He stared at you, his mind racing. It wasn’t just that you laughed—it was how easily it had come. You, who had always been so detached, so distant. To see you so utterly disarmed, so... human, was an odd feeling. And though Robin was trying to maintain his usual calm composure, a strange twinge of jealousy flickered within him.

Wally, still recovering from his humiliating fall, smiled sheepishly. “Okay, okay, laugh it up. But hey, I’m the fastest, right? I’ll get the last laugh.”

But the others? The others were a little more concerned than they let on.

Artemis crossed her arms, her eyes narrowed. She didn’t show it, but there was something about seeing you laughing at Wally—laughing, full stop—that made something stir inside her. Was she annoyed? Or maybe... was she jealous? She shook it off, but the thought lingered, an unexpected twist in her chest.

Kaldur, calm and steady as ever, looked at you with a subtle shift in his gaze. He had seen the way you kept yourself apart, always in your own world, never truly engaging with the team. To see you let go, even if just for a moment, was... startling. And yet, he found himself drawn to that side of you. He didn’t want to admit it, but there was something in that laugh that he wished he could see again. That was a side of you no one ever got to see. He could feel the weight of that moment, and in the pit of his stomach, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to you than just the distant, untouchable magic-user they all knew.

Conner’s eyes darkened, just a fraction. He wasn’t angry, not exactly. But there was something... wrong, about Wally being the cause of your laughter. He should’ve been the one to bring that out of you. He would have been the one to make you smile like that, if only you had let him in. But no—Wally, of all people, got that reaction. The thought gnawed at him, though he tried to bury it. Still, as he turned his attention back to the mission, the feeling wouldn’t go away.

M'gann, ever empathetic, watched you with a strange mixture of relief and longing. She had always seen the potential for something more behind your distant exterior. But this—this laugh—was the most human she’d seen you in a long time. It made her heart ache to see you so carefree, so real. She wanted to know more, to understand why this moment had broken through that wall you had built around yourself. But a part of her, a selfish part, couldn’t help but wish that she had been the one to make you laugh like that. That she had been the one to break through.

But Wally? Wally just shrugged it off, still grinning through the embarrassment. “Guess I’m just too good at making things entertaining,” he said, brushing himself off.

You looked at him, still chuckling softly, your breath uneven. “You’re so fucking stupid” you replied, finally starting to regain your composure.

But in the back of your mind, you knew something had shifted. You had given them all a glimpse of who you really were, if only for a moment. And even if they didn’t say it, the way they were all watching you now, their expressions just a little more intense, a little more focused, told you that you’d made an impact.

And somehow, you didn’t mind at all.

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cavorta · 2 years ago

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I have created a sigil for Social Justice. You can read more about it here and there are also links to high resolution files which you can download for free and print: https://cavorta.substack.com/p/a-social-justice-sigil

#sigil #social justice #sigil witchery #sigil magick #sigil magic

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pcr-alice · 7 months ago

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DPxDC - Missing Persons

also on AO3

It started so quietly no one really noticed.

People were disappearing. A veteran from the mountains, a firefighter from the city, a surfer from the coast, and on and on. All gone without a trace. The local authorities investigated, of course, but they never found any leads. After some time, the people were simply written off as missing, and their communities moved on. They remained forgotten until the Justice League got involved. Their systems flagged the uptick in disappearances, and once a Bat took a look, they were immediately suspicious. It took another Bat before the link was finally found. And it took Red Hood disappearing to confirm it. The missing people all had previous close calls with death. And so the League followed protocol – they announced an investigation.

The disappearances stopped.

It was a relief at first. There were far too many people who fit the profile, and none of their analysis could discern a usable pattern from the previous disappearances. But as time stretched on, they got nervous. Surely whatever this was wouldn’t just stop once noticed? What was going to happen next, and when? Justice League Dark got involved. Only once John Constantine started poking around did they find a lead, and even then only thanks to dumb luck.

When Constantine was finally dragged to the town where one of the early disappearances occurred, he zeroed in on an old woman living in a care home. As it turned out, she was mildly magically sensitive. Apparently her grandmother was a witch or something of that sort. But crucially, she had suffered a nearly fatal heart attack almost a decade ago. And she was all too happy to talk about the ‘nice young man’ from her dream who offered to take her away.

She granted Constantine permission to dive into her memory to learn more. Whatever he learned did not make him happy. He said he’d be back after a quick trip to Hell and disappeared, much to Batman’s irritation. But true to his word, surprising some, he returned with slightly singed clothes and a book.

So here he was, chalking sigils onto the floor. Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, and Green Lantern watched him work in silence, likely trying to wrap their minds around the fact that there was a so-called Ghost King who they were about to request an audience with. Constantine finished up his work and stood at what they all assumed was the front of the circle he had just drawn.

“I do all the talking, yeah? These ones can be tricky.”

Without waiting for a response, he waved his hand, magic glowing at his palm. The circle responded in kind, pulsing white then fading into a harsh, vibrant green. A large black, green, and red elaborately-decorated sarcophagus rose inside the circle, appearing to phase straight through the floor.

“Dramatic fuckers, eh?” Constantine muttered.

A thick fog billowed out alongside it, quickly surging out past the boundary of the circle. It spread upward, threatening to fill the entire room. Constantine cursed to himself and waved an arm, clearing out the fog around them even as it thickened throughout the rest of the room, obscuring the view of the ceiling and walls save for the door directly behind them.

A deep voice echoed through the room with no discernible source. Everyone tensed.

“Who would dare wake the sleeping tyrant?”

A pair of bright green slits appeared from the depths of the fog and widened into eyes.

“Eugh, it’s you.”

The voice lost its echo. It sounded annoyed but entirely human and...young? That didn’t stop Constantine from clenching a hand into a fist, charging magic and preparing for an attack. The eyes moved closer, revealing a pale face and snow-white hair that floated in an unfelt breeze.

“Peace, Hellblazer.”

A lanky figure stepped forward onto the sarcophagus from where they were floating. They wore all black save for their white gloves, white boots, and previously visible head. With an audible thunk they plopped down on the foot of the sarcophagus, one leg bent upward to rest their chin on and wrap their arms around.

“I mean you no harm.”

There was a pause as the others waited to see how Constantine would respond.

“We met?”

“No, but I know of you. And I must admit, I’m disappointed to see you working with the likes of them.”

They gestured to the others in the room.

“Yeah, well,” Constantine relaxed his fist but lost none of his tension, “Don’t meet your heroes.”

The stranger scoffed.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I just enjoy seeing demons annoyed.”

There was another tense pause as the stranger lazily looked over all those present. Constantine broke the silence again.

“Who might you be, then?”

The stranger slowly dragged their gaze away from Wonder Woman and back to the magician. After a pause they spoke.

“You may call me Ambassador.”

“Ambassador to ghosts?”

“If you’d like to think of it that way.”

Constantine straightened his posture.

“We would like to formally request an audience with His Majesty The King to discuss what we suspect is ghost activity in our world.”

The ambassador stared back in silence with squinted eyes before sighing and thumping their forehead to their knee.

“Where to even begin…” they whispered to themselves.

“Okay, let’s start with this.” They slapped the side of the sarcophagus and looked up. “What part of ‘sleeping tyrant’ wasn’t clear?”

“I was under the impression His Majesty was recently crowned and well-respected?”

The ambassador pinched the bridge of their nose and groaned.

“Ancients...”

They hopped to the ground without warning, causing everyone to flinch into defensive stances. If the ambassador noticed, they gave no indication.

“The king is a tyrant, he is trapped in forever sleep again, and I’d like to keep it that way this time.”

Constantine opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted before he got a chance.

“Speaking of which, how’d you even summon him?”

“Summon?” Constantine choked out, clearly surprised.

The ambassador walked toward Constantine, making everyone save for him slide backwards a step. They looked down at the chalk marks on the floor.

“Ancients, this is archaic. Where’d you find it?”

After a few seconds of silence, the ambassador looked up at Constantine.

“Well?”

“Ah...Merlin.”

The ambassador raised an eyebrow.

“What? It’s bloody true!”

The ambassador huffed out a laugh and walked back to lean against the sarcophagus and cross their arms.

“Can’t fault his demonology, but this circle is Bad. I suggest you lose it.”

Constantine opened his mouth to speak, but was once again interrupted, this time from an unfamiliar voice echoing through the room.

“Lord Phantom.”

Everyone flinched as a set of black armor coated in purple flames stepped into view from the fog.

“’Sup Frighty?”

“The dark one is marked.”

The ambassador flicked their eyes to Batman and stared for several tense seconds.

“So he is. Just like the other one, but actually concealed. Must be barely contaminated.”

The ambassador squinted and tilted their head.

“Sure enough. It’s weak, but there’s a family bond there.”

Batman clenched his fist.

“Where is Red Hood?”

The ambassador straightened their head, unflinching and unblinking.

“Safe. And being cared for.”

Before Batman could respond, yet another voice echoed from the fog.

“These are the ones?”

The ambassador turned their back to Batman and groaned.

“Is anyone not coming?”

A giant, four-armed, blue-skinned, armor-clad woman stepped out of the fog with two sets of crossed arms. She had the smallest smirk on her face.

“Apologies. I wished to see those who would obstruct our evacuation.”

Superman and Green Lantern perked up and shared a short look of confusion. The woman turned her head to Wonder Woman, her smirk replaced with a grimace.

“I am disappointed to see one of my kin among them.”

“I thought she might be, but I wasn’t sure.”

Wonder Woman stepped forward.

“My Lady, I –”

“You were not asked to speak, Child.” The woman snapped.

Her voice shook the floor underneath them. Wonder Woman flinched and stared up at her with wide eyes. The heroes tensed for a fight. But to their shock, Wonder Woman slowly raised her arm to press a fist over her heart and bowed her head in deference.

“I will make my displeasure known,” the woman growled, voice still angry but no longer violently.

“Take Dora with you.”

“Do you think me unable to fend for myself, Little One?” Her mouth curved up into a fond smirk again.

“I know better than to doubt you,” they briefly smirked back, “but given my limited experience, I don’t hold them in high regard.”

After a pause they tacked on a “no offense”.

“None taken.”

The woman stepped backwards and faded into the fog. Superman took a step forward, eyeing the armor cautiously.

“Ambassador, my apologies for our unpleasant first meeting.”

He waited until the ambassador gave him a slight nod.

“May I inquire what your companion meant by ‘evacuation’?”

“Exactly what she said. Our kind are being hunted, and we are trying to save them.”

“In that case I must apologize again. We were not aware of this unfortunate situation. Had we been provided an explanation, we would –”

“Typical,” the ambassador scoffed, “your primary patron government is committing a genocide, and yet we’re at fault for not properly informing you.”

Superman was smart enough to bite back his standard “we’re independent” retort. Green Lantern stepped forward instead.

“If I may, Ambassador, my name is Hal Jordan. I am a member of the Green Lantern Corps. We are a wholly independent organization dedicated to peacekeeping across the galaxy.”

The ambassador looked him up and down slowly before turning their head away dismissively.

“I don’t talk to cops.”

The heroes were stunned to silence. The ambassador turned to the floating armor.

“Prepare the Keep. I’ll ward against this circle once the sarcophagus is back in its place.”

“My Lord.”

The armor bowed its head then faded into the fog. Batman stepped forward.

“We have no involvement in the violence against you or your kind.”

The ambassador turned to stare at Batman for several seconds, squinted eyes glowing brightly.

“You’re an excellent liar, Batman.” The fog crept forward and wrapped around their legs. “Unfortunately, I know you’re full of shit.”

“What points you to that conclusion?” Batman kept his voice neutral and steady.

The fog had risen to the ambassador’s chest. They scoffed.

“There are photos of you with Amanda Waller.”

Batman’s fist clenched harder.

The ambassador turned to look at Constantine as the fog enveloped them, leaving two glowing green spots.

“I suggest you not push this any further, Laughing Magician. There are some things in this universe that trump even your luck.”

The glowing green eyes closed, and the fog faded away, leaving an empty summoning circle and untouched room. After several seconds of silence, Wonder Woman finally raised her head and spoke.

“I must return to Themyscira, perhaps for some time. If that was who I believe it to be...something has gone very wrong.”

Superman glanced over the others, who were all still silently processing the encounter. He turned back to Wonder Woman to give her a nod, and she quickly walked out of the room.

Constantine reached into his coat and pulled out his flask. He unscrewed the cap with a heavy sigh and downed whatever was left. He looked tired and annoyed, same as he always did. But Batman could tell he was shaken.

He looked away from Constantine and back to the empty circle again. There was a lot of concerning information to process, but one key thing did slip through. The knight had called the stranger ‘Phantom’. He had come across that name once before. One of three legible words on a burnt piece of paper in an abandoned and destroyed facility. A facility that stank of a classified government cover-up. A facility Waller had sworn up and down she knew nothing about. But he had a lead. The other two words. Amity Park. A small town that only existed if you looked at paper maps printed several years ago.

He had to act quickly.

#dp x dc #dpxdc #my writing #not sure where this idea came from #dont know where it goes from here #but i think itd be funny if batman clocks danny #cuz he hears him say 'i dont talk to cops'#bonus points if its to dick/nightwing

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on-the-clear-blue · 6 months ago

Text

Dead Man's Diner pt5

Danny groggily propped himself up as he heard the loud bang of his door being thrown open

"DANIEL VLADIMIR FENTON!"

Blinking a few times to get the sleep out of his eyes, Danny glared at Tucker, "Middle name? Really?" He hated it, so very much, hated that he thought it was cool when he was a kid, and hated it so much more after the portal incident, it wasn't enough for his parents to have Vlad be his godfather, Danny's middle name had to be that fruitloops as well.

Damn his parents for being such caring friends.

Tucker met Danny's glare as he crossed his arms in the doorway into Danny's room

He would cut an intimidating figure if Danny didn't know him, suit and tie perfectly pressed with a PDA held in one hand.

"I know you said that you got the Bats at the diner place thingy you are working at now last night, but did you have to call them out? Red Robin and Oracle have been trying to track you for the last 5 hours, I have had to summon Technus in the WE employee bathrooms! Thank God Mr Wayne included baby changing stations in each stall or I would have had to carve a sigil into the fucking wall! And I think *he* bricked the Batcomputor!" Tucker screeched as he paced the clear area of Danny's messy room

Scrubbing at his eyes, Danny sat up fully, more awake than he was a minute ago, "S-sorry? Didn't really think about them being sore bitches about it, I tagged them like once and set it online, they probably get hundreds of tags an hour. How was is supposed to know that they would read it?"

Tucker snarled, holding out his PDA for Danny to see "Not just Nightwing and Red Robin, half the God damn Young Justice team, The Titans are all over Nightwing, and all the rest of the bats are laughing their asses off! Look!"

<@Superboy_(the_hot_one)

[@not-that-red-robin.real wow Rob, if I knew u were broke I would have have asked Lexie to give u some cash]

<@Beep-Beep!_(official-Impluse)

[ @not-that-red-robin.real that's not very lit fam Gucci of u RR not very rizztastic and definitely isn't skibidi

@living-legend(Yes_that_wondergirl)

<@not-that-red-robin.real for fucking shame Red Themyscira has laws for bitches like you comere I am gonna cut off your thumbs.

Letting out a laugh, Danny was grinning as he scrolled through to Nightwings part.

<@theonetrueblueborg

[@.realwing: it's giving "my daddys rich and will take the bill" wing]

<@veggiemonster

[@.realwing: bro

:BRO

:Broooooooooooo]

<@Goth (Taylor's version)

[@.realwing: shame.]

Danny was full on laughing now, ad from what he could see through tears, so was Tucker, standing up with a weaze, "O-oh my Ancients....ugh t-that is just great"

Letting out a few more chuckles, Danny handded the PDA over to his friend, "I am sorry about getting the Bats aware of me, but I am not sorry for calling them toxic thinks."

Tucker sighed, running his forehead but still had a smile on his face, "You do know #NightwingsAssIsCancelled is trending right now?"

Danny couldn't hold back the cackle that shot through him at that.

---

Tim held his head in his hands, above him was his laptop, cycling through rebooting and then crashing, it had been five minutes so far, and if the last cycle had told him anything it would be up to that for another five minutes.

Groaning, Tim dragged himself up, he hadn't slept much last night, spending most of it trying (and failing) to get any information on the employee of Big C's, Danny nolastname he could find.

That was part of the problem, anytime he got even a smidgen close, it was like someone bitchsmacked him away. Even Babs was having trouble, she got a single thing before getting locked out of her own systems with baby shark playing on loop through her speakers.

He didn't know what to feel, humiliated that he was being actively cock blocked for information or excited since this is the first time in a while something was so difficult! The bear fact that he was being blocked so hard meant that there was something to block with this kid!

Stumbling down to the dining room, Tim didnt spare the table of his family a glance until he had gotten the pre-made cup of coffee from Alfred, letting the bitter drink wake him fully.

Finally turning to the family at large, he saw Bruce doing his best impression of a stone statue (Normal Damian was openingly glaring at him (slightly less normal), Dick was face down in a bowl of cereal (vaugly normal) and Cass was giggling while putting clips and sparkling things into Dicks hair (okay back to normal again)

Sitting in his spot across from Damian, Tim sighed, which seemed to be enough for Damian to go off on him.

"Are we paupers Drake? Has the CEO position at WE pay so little? And what of your own company? I was unaware that Drake Industries has fallen on such hard times!" Damians words rolled out like a lazy river, smooth and uncaringly cold.

"Oh my God, I am already planning on going back tonight and settling the fucking tab Dami, lay off it." Getting the expected "language" statement from both Bruce and Alfred, Tim drained his coffee cup, not so slamming it down but close to it before Damian could respond.

Eyes shooting to Bruce he huffed, "Meeting. Vlad Masters. One ish hours away."

Bruce's eyes shot to Alfred who only raised a brow at the two and Bruce stiffened "We can speak later in my Study Tim, eat something other than coffee and we can go do that." Getting a nod from Alfred, Bruce seemed to deflate with a sigh.

Grumbling, Tim picked at the plate of food Alfred placed in front of him, before forcing himself to eat, he would need energy more than coffee.

After managing to finish half his plate, Tim stood, "Come on, I need yo clue you in to somethings I was researching last night B..."

---

Bruce stayed silent as he sat down in his office, a tablet on his lap as he went through the test results once again.

"...are you saying me and Dick had Lazarus water laden food last night?" Tim said with frigid calmness

Biting back the urge to clam up and try and keep his son from worrying, Bruce nodded, "Trace amounts yes, I am unsure of its origins, the samples I was able to pull were much more pure than we are used to. How are you feeling?"

He watched as Tim held his face in his hands, massaging his temples before speaking, "Fine really? A little tired, appetite isn't there but that's normal...been feeling a strange sensation in my side but that is just likely phantom pain."

Noting everything down, Bruce nodded slowly, "Dick mentioned that he was still full feeling after a night's sleep and that some old wounds were feeling strange, I can only assume you are feeling your splenectomy scar?"

Sighing at Tim's agreement, Bruce noted a few more things down, making holding the last line to ask Damian if he had any knowledge on eating food effected by the pits, and another one not to tell Jason about this all in case it triggers something in him

"Putting that aside, B, what about Masters? Vladco makes medical stuff right? Shady business practices?" Bruce gave a grunt, switching the tabs on his pad to show him thr information on Vladimir Masters.

"Age 48, male, standing 6'1, weighs about 180, doctorate in theoretical quantum mechanics, had a lab incident preparing for a theise that left him hospitalized for some time, after he recovered and graduated is when his suspected criminal activities began, since then he has had several business owners simply sign their lively hoods to him...I suspect he is Meta with some sort of mind control abilities, the lab accident would make sense in awakening his Mets gene."

Bruce spoke as he handed the tablet over to Tim, "He sponsors several scientists with various types of study, two that stick out are Doctors Fenton and CADMUS."

Tim pulled a face as he followed along through the tabs of research "CADMUS? Really? So we are looking at some Midwestern millionaire that is totally not a supervillian in the making...what's up with the Fentons?" Handing the tablet back Tim flopped down into the chair opposite to Bruce.

"I am trying to figure that out, so far I know they went to school with Masters, and were there with him during the lab accident, the continual funding Masters is giving them makes me suspect they are just as involved in what ever Masters is to to..." Bruce was going to continue when there was a knock on the study door, and Alfred poked his head in.

"If you wish to be on time to your meeting, I would suggest Master Timothy get dressed now so you both might be in the car while I drive it to Wanye Towers."

Bruce frowned, but nodded, giving time a small smirk as the teen begins to realize he is just in a winkled t shirt that Bruce was 95% sure was Conners, and a pair of shorts that Bruce was very sure were Barts.

#batman #batfam #danny is a little shit #dc x dp #dpxdc #tim drake #danny phantom #dp x dc crossover #ghost king danny #toxic twinks #damian makes an appearance #cassandra cain #she is best girl #summoning tech spirits at your work places bathroom #b:the fentons are clearly mad scientists #danny:okay so you are right but also no #damain read Tim for filth #bruce is so done #Dead Man's Diner

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franzkafkagf · 2 months ago

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Thinking about the three times Criston Cole is mentioned in the main series. The first two mentions of Criston come from the POV of Arys Oakheart, a member of the Kingsguard whose soiled white cloak mirrors Cole’s own. He thinks about Criston, it's clear he does not really know what to make of this man; what were his motives, what goals did he chase? Criston and Rhaenyra. Arys and Arianne. Duty and Love.

All things come round again. The dragon eats its own tail, just as House Targaryen once cannibalized itself. The wheel turns, and the same patterns repeat. One knight kneels to defend the birthright of two women while the other took up the sword to cast a woman down from her throne.

When Arys sinks to one knee before Arianne and swears his sword to her, he casts himself as her champion and protector, a righteous defender of her claim. He is everything Criston Cole was not—or so he believes. Criston abandoned Rhaenyra for ambition or resentment, while Arys protects Arianne for love and justice. Ser Arys the Righteous, the knight who will stand where Criston faltered. A Queenmaker come to set right the wrongs a Kingmaker wrought long ago.

The final mention of Criston Cole comes from Jaime's POV as he gazes upon the White Book.

The White Book is sparse, reduced to titles and deeds, devoid of the messy truths behind them. Ser Criston did not simply make a king—he destroyed a king’s will. He did not merely defend the customs of the Andals—he sparked a war that tore the dragons from the skies and broke the might of House Targaryen. Ser Criston Cole, a knight of a house so minor its sigil is forgotten, shaped the fate of empires. "Kingmaker," they call him. Not oathbreaker.

"Kingslayer," they call Jaime. A villain. A man of no honor. Oathbreaker. Like Criston, he betrayed his king—but the meaning of that betrayal is lost in the shadow of the act itself. Jaime slew Aerys to save thousands. Criston betrayed Rhaenyra for Aegon, for ambition, for duty—or perhaps for nothing more than wounded pride. The truth of Criston’s motives, like Jaime’s, has been buried.

The wheel spins endlessly, grinding down the truth until only fragments remain: Criston the Kingmaker. Jaime the Kingslayer. One who made a king, the other who killed one. And what goes around comes around.

#asoiaf #criston cole #jaime lannister #valyrianscrolls #a song of ice and fire #arys oakheart #asoiaf meta #criston they dont get you like i get you #hotd #arianne martell #rhaenyra targaryen

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night-night-stories-before-bed · 2 months ago

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Throwing oil on the fire

Warning ⚠️; blood, mention of death sentence, huge spoilers for Helluva Boss

Pairing; Satan/Prince!Male!Reader, Stolas & Prince!Male!Reader (Brothers)

Summary; As if the trial wasn't going badly enough, more oil is about to be thrown on the fire when it is revealed that Blitzø wounded you as well. You who weren't just a prince, but Satan’s boyfriend. Now Satan is even more angry.

~~~~~~

You stared at the screen, your eyes not leaving that damned little imp. You would recognize the worm anywhere even after so many years had passed. You won't forget the pain, the betrayal that he had caused you. Your talons sank into the leather of the chair and ripped it off when Blitzø denied stealing the grimoire, calling it a book.

A book.

It was so much more than that. It was the reason you were thrown out of your own home and forgotten by your father. Because it wasn't the first time Blitzø had went after a Goetia’s grimoire, you knew because he once stole yours. Well, Stolas gave it to him.

You could still remember pleading to your father that you hadn't lost it, how it had been stolen. But Stolas had defended that damned imp over you, his brother, his blood. Everyone thought of you as a liar when you were not.

Then Stolas had dared give you back your book once your father had kicked you out of the house and sent you away.

How many nights had you cried and written to your father, trying to convince him you were telling the truth? But he never wrote back and to this day you never saw him again. You had cursed Stolas’ name, wished the worst of faith on him and laughed when you learned he was betrothed to a girl and tasked with having an heir.

For the first time, it had felt like justice, like maybe your father had finally believed you and was punishing him.

Stolas had tried keeping in contact with you, but you always burned his letters and never read them. Even when he dared show up at your place you would send him away, not once allowing him in. Stolas never understood, never realized he had lost you by choosing the imp.

He wasn't your brother anymore.

Just a traitor.

Sitting in the living room of your shared mansion, you looked at Satan on the screen. You saw Andrealphus appear and gesticulate as always. You never liked him or Stella, but until now you three had formed a good team to ruin and hurt Stolas. You were thankful for their discretion even tho they had no choices.

A single wrong step and you would kill them both.

You groaned when you saw Andrealphus calling upon Striker as a witness and rolled your eyes. How much money did the hitman cost this time? You preferred not think about it.

Fire erupted in your veins as you saw your brother appear on the screen. You hissed as he prevented Blitzø’s execution, protecting the imp as always, not caring about the consequences. It was too much, you couldn't take it any longer.

Some would call you over dramatic and others would say you were just like your boyfriend, but you didn't care. Cloaked in shadow and fire you made your apparition in the courtroom. You heard gasps and whispers when the fire disappeared and the shadows rolled off you.

The pendant of your necklace swung from left to right before resting flat against your chest, showing Satan’s sigil. You replaced your elegant clothes and chased away the ashes left by your apparition.

You locked eyes with Stolas. Shock and surprise twisted his face and you snared in disgust. Behind you, Satan leaned down, his hand taking yours and his thumb brushed your knuckles.

- “My devious cataclysm, what are you doing here?” He asked in a hushed whisper.

- “Why, my dear? I came to testify against the criminal imp and my brother.” You said, turning your gaze toward Satan as more gasps filled the room. “Do you remember when I told you about the imp that stole my grimoire when I was a child?”

- “Don’t tell me…” Satan growled, his eyes filling with rage as he stared at Stolas and Blitzø.

From the corner of your eyes, you could see your brother and Blitzø. The first looked heartbroken as if finally understanding the depth of your hatred for him. Never would you forgive his betrayal, his actions as he never saw shat he did wrong nor did he ever give you any form of excuse. Just acted as if nothing had happened.

The Imp seemed shocked, now recognizing you. It had been years but your feathers were still the same colour and so were your eyes. Besides, he hadn't stolen the grimoire of many princes; just you and Stolas. While he had avoided justice back then, Blitzø would have to face it now.

Satan growled, low as it rumbled his chest and he squeezed your hand. His burning breath tickled your feathers and you raised your free hand, stroking his muzzle with the back of your fingers. No words are needed but a simple touch for the Sin to calm down.

The room fell silent after that.

You turned your head, facing Stolas. You could see the pain and tears in his eyes, his hands slightly raised as if he were about to walk up to you. Pathetic.

- “Y/N… what…” Stolas began but you snarled, cutting him.

- “Did you believe I would allow you to play the same trick twice? You threw me under the bus once and it cost me everything and now you are once again coming to the defence of that imp?” You raised your voice, stepping forward, hand sliding out of Satan’s before you pointed your index toward Stolas. “Fool us once, shame on you; fool us twice, shame on us”

- “I… I never… Y/N, please! You don't...” Stolas begged, also stepping forward.

- “Enough Stolas!” You snapped, your powers swirling around you as the flames from the candles burned higher. “You are nothing but a shame! How can you stand there and still protect him? Have you learned nothing? He doesn't care about you, never did and never will! He was always just after our grimoires and money and you've been stupid enough to give it to him willingly.”

The ground shook under you as Satan stood. A shiver ran down your spine, but not of fear, as his shadow fell upon you. You heard his wings flap and his tail clack in the air like a whip before he walked, each step leaving a crater on the floor.

Everyone but you held their breath and you just crossed your arms. Stolas’ gaze left you and turned to your boyfriend. You could feel his anger filling the room, a single wrong word and he would explode in a fury. You expected it.

Hoped for it.

Maybe then Satan would tear apart Blitzø, torture him and gift you his severed head while your brother cried for his fucktoy. But no, it was too good, a daydream and not the reality. You still enjoyed the smell of fear coming from Stolas and Blitzø, a smirk on your lips.

It was good to be the winner for once. To watch Stolas be in your place, with no one listening to him.

Satan looked down at you, his golden eyes softening for a second.

- “Sit down at my place my fallen angel. We will hear your full testimony in a minute.” Satan said and turned his attention back to the couple.

You did as asked all eyes following you. The bottom of your cloak slid on the ground and then wrapped around you as you took place on his giant chair. Asmodeus and Bee looked at you and you could tell they were still in shock. While your relationship with Satan wasn't a secret, you were still more discreet than them and it was less scandalous.

You understood why they took Blitzø’s defence, themselves sleeping with the lowest class of Hell. They just needed to see the bigger picture here. It wasn't about a prince and an imp having a relationship, but the fact an imp was using a prince to do as he pleased and avoiding the consequences.

It wasn't about love. It was about making an example, showing that no matter what the law still applied to him regardless of his bond with Stolas. As for your brother… it was the same. He might be a Prince, but he wasn't above the law or repercussions for his acts.

Andrealphus had been awfully quiet, his gaze rarely leaving you. After all, you knew he had his talons on the attempt on Stolas’ life just like his sister and the proof that came with it since you had given him some help. But you didn't care about his fears as long as he didn't get in your way and did as you wished, you wouldn't reveal anything in court.

You would just have liked for him to keep you in touch about this plan of his, for now, you were in the dark.

Satan stopped walking and leaned down his face inches from Stolas and Blitzø. His yellow eyes judged them and you knew it without needing to see it. You knew the Sin better than anyone else after all. Just like you knew he was deciding the next steps. Hearing you alone then judge or having a full-on trial, which would last maybe for days.

- “I don't see why such an old event would have its place in this trial.” Asmodeus said, after looking at his phone. “It has nothing to do with the current events.”

- “It does since it will show a pattern.” You replied, crossing your legs before looking at the Sin of Lust. “Maybe we should invite your partner, that little imp of yours grew up with that Blitzø after all. Maybe he could bring some light onto his actions?”

You smirked as you saw a vast range of emotions play on Asmodeus’ face. He hadn't expected you to bring on Fizzarolli, but why not? If he wanted to defend Blitzø then his partner should be involved since he was the one knowing the accused.

- “Ah, but we can't be angry at him for not wanting to defend the one who caused him so much pain, right? I hope his burns doesn't hurt him anymore.” You added, tilting your head almost innocently.

Asmodeus frowned upon hearing you and Beelzebub looked at him worried. Mammon was laughing as if you had just delivered the joke of the century, his fat finger pointing mockingly at Asmodeus. It was a dangerous game you were playing with the Sins, but you couldn't let Asmodeus get away with helping Blitzø. Of all the imps and hounds of Hell, that damn criminal was the least deserving of his help.

- “He got you there!” Mammon said snickering.

But your conversation had caught Satan’s attention and now your boyfriend looked at you. His yellow eyes passed from you to Asmodeus then back at you. No words left your lips and you let him understand by himself.

Finally, Satan looked back at Blitzø and your brother, his decision made.

- “We will go on with listening to all the testimony may they be in your defence or against you. As for you Prince Stolas, you shall be judged as well following your wishes.” Satan said, straightening his back. “And I mean every testimony from as far as I see needed. Asmodeus, make sure your plaything comes. I want to hear him testify.”

- “W-what?” Asmodeus stuttered.

- “Seriously?” You asked as stunned as the Sin of Lust.

- “Oh that's hilarious!” Mammon chuckled, holding his stomach as he began laughing hysterically again.

Satan looked at you, raising an eyebrow, wondering why you acted like that. He was offering you your greatest revenge after all; humiliating your brother and prolonging the suffering of the imp that caused you so much pain.

And you were thankful to him.

- “H-hey wait a second here. Fizz’s got nothing to do with my business!” Blitzø finally spoke, gesticulating to catch Satan’s attention. “Leave him out of it.”

- “Fool, you think you have a said? Don't make us laugh.” Satan told him with a snarl as he leaned down, slamming his hands on each side of the accused. “You are both lucky we are not condemning you this second or I’ll tear off your heads with my own hands.”

A soft smile found its way on your lips as you took your pendant between your fingers. It felt so good seeing Satan stand for you and be angry on your behalf. You knew he wanted nothing more than to shred those two apart and give you their still-warm heart.

You wouldn't be against it.

But the trial had to keep going, there were procedures to follow after all. Of course, they could go straight up to condemnation, but now your brother was involved. They couldn't just execute a Prince.

What a shame.

Then, Satan called you to testify and you did. You did not forget a single detail, retelling every instance you encountered Blitzø and every object he stole from your family. You could feel Stolas staring at you, but he said nothing as he had been made quiet by Satan.

The tribunal stayed quiet when you explained how Blitzø stole your grimoire by passing by Stolas, how you were punished by your father for something you didn't do. You were lucky to be alive, in a way. Paimon wasn't keen on forgiveness after all.

And then you spoke about your failure of a brother. You weren't nice, not for a second. You pointed out how he never wanted to follow the rules or accept that being a Prince came with expectations and duties. Duties that he avoided as much as he could or did not care about.

You pointed out it wasn't the first time he came to the imp’s rescue without thinking about the repercussions. Without caring about how it would affect the people around him. The more you spoke, the more Stolas looked sad and heartbroken, but the courtroom stayed eerily quiet.

You locked eyes with Satan, your boyfriend’s eyes softening as he knew how painful those memories were. You had no one except for him. Satan was your greatest support and comfort just like you were his. You helped him rule his Ring, gave him ideas and took care of the papers and everything he hated or didn't care about.

You formed a terrifying team too.

After your testimony, you stayed by Satan’s side as more witnesses were called. Some tried to help Stolas and Blitzø but to no avail. No matter how much good the imp did, his terrible actions outnumbered them.

Finally, lunchtime came. You sighed in relief as Satan took you out of the courtroom to a more private place. Wine and fine cuisine awaited you already and you gulped your cup in one go. Your boyfriend chuckled and poured you more knowing you needed it.

Satan as shrinked to a more normal size before sitting by your side. He didn't bring the trial up but you knew he wanted too. Half way through your meal, you sighed and leaned back in your chair.

- “Speak your mind, my love. I know you have a lot on it.” You said, turning your attention on Satan.

- “What… do you expect from this trial?” Satan asked, putting down his fork and looking at you.

The question took you by surprise and you blinked, taking a minute to think about it. What did you expect? Pain and suffering for the little fucker who ruined your life, an eternal heartbreak for your treator of a brother…

Maybe closure, maybe finally seeing Stolas realize just how much pain he out you in.

A sorry. A true apology would be good.

You closed your eyes and sighed, passing a hand on your face.

- “Honestly I would love for you to give me that imp’s head on a silver plate. I guess it's too much asking?” you asked, barely opening your eyes.

- “Yes. As of now, a bit too much.” Satan admitted, leaning down and taking your hand in his. “But I can make sure to give them the worst punishment I can.”

You nodded, thumb tracing circles on Satan’s hand absently. You knew he couldn't go over the law for you or kill a Goetia’s prince without reason. While the testimonies were all against Blitzø, there wasn't enough for Stolas. At best Blitzø would be put down like the mad dog he was and your brother would be stripped of his titles.

Then, it clicked. A bright idea came into your mind, cruel and heartless. Satan saw it and giggled, kissing your cheek.

- “Your turn to speak your mind.” He whispered.

- “What about… what about stripping Stolas of his powers and titles and only giving them back once he kills either that lover of his or that imp’s partners.” you said and saw a smirk appear on Satan’s lips.

- “You are so cruel, my devious love.” He praised and kissed your cheek again.

In the end, it wasn't possible for Stolas’ crimes weren't enough to justify it, but Satan was able to still strip him of his powers and titles even if it was only for a hundred years. It felt like a slap on the wrist and it was, but it was better than nothing.

You enjoyed his walk of shame as his own people turned against him and how he looked broken, learning he had also lost his daughter. You knew Octavia would be safe with her mother and uncle, but also knew how Stella was. You didn’t blind yourself; she would do everything to turn her daughter against her father and you would do nothing but watch.

You had lost your father because of Stolas, so now you were making sure he would lose his daughter.

You still grieved all that could have been had he not betrayed you, but it had been done and there was no going back.

That night, Satan gave you more attention than usual, going so far as to cancel any meeting he had for the next days. He knew how hard it had been for you to face your brother and his lover, knew you weren't fully satisfied with the sentence and he wanted to be there for you just like you had been for him.

And as you melted in Satan’s arms, enjoying whatever film he had put on the TV, you realized that you had always been the winner. You had a loving and supportive lover, unlike Stolas, had built your own support system and family while your brother had no one.

You smiled as you realized all that, nuzzling yourself more against Satan and knew your future was brighter than ever.

#male reader #x male reader #x reader #fanfic #reader #angst #writeblr #writers #writers on tumblr #helluva boss #satan helluva boss #satan x reader #satan x male reader #helluva boss x reader #helluva boss x male reader

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novaursa · 4 months ago

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The Cycle (justice)

- Summary: Cregan delivers justice for your son and Grey Ghost.

- Pairing: velaryon!reader/Cregan Stark

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (just to be safe)

- Previous part: one for the price of two

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @daeryna @melsunshine @21-princess

The Hour of the Wolf had come, and with it, the chill of northern justice.

Cregan Stark rode through the gates of King’s Landing, his direwolf sigil fluttering high above his head, flanked by his men—all grim-faced and hardened by the long ride south. The city was in chaos, the streets teeming with whispers of betrayal, murder, and treachery, the aftermath of the Dance of the Dragons still felt in the very air.

But Cregan’s purpose was clear. He had come for justice—justice for his son, for his wife’s dragon, for the innocent blood spilled by those who had thought themselves untouchable.

The courtyard of the Red Keep echoed with the sound of hooves and the clatter of armor as his men dismounted. The nobles of the court, gathered under Aegon III’s uneasy new rule, watched from the shadows, their eyes filled with both fear and curiosity. They knew why Cregan Stark had come.

For the moment, the North had claimed the South.

Cregan strode through the halls with the measured pace of a man who had waited long enough for his vengeance. The cold steel of his greatsword, Ice, was strapped across his back, the weight of it comforting in his hands. His face, grim and unyielding, was a mask of fury barely contained behind his calm demeanor.

As he entered the throne room, the smallfolk and nobles alike parted for him, their gazes heavy with anticipation. And there, at the foot of the Iron Throne, stood the object of his rage: Larys Strong.

The man who had murdered his son.

Larys, the Master of Whisperers, the weaver of dark secrets, was shackled in chains, his normally composed face now twisted in a grotesque mockery of calm. His body was hunched, his hands bound in irons, but his eyes—those cold, calculating eyes—remained defiant.

Cregan’s jaw clenched as he looked at him, the memories of that night in Winterfell flooding back in an instant. The image of you cradling Eddard’s lifeless body, the broken, twisted form of Grey Ghost lying in the snow, both slaughtered by this man’s orders.

Larys Strong had made you choose, and then he had taken everything anyway.

The room was deathly silent as Cregan approached, each step echoing in the cavernous space. Aegon III sat on the Iron Throne, his face pale and expression unreadable, a boy-king who had seen too much bloodshed for his years. His hands gripped the arms of the throne tightly, his knuckles white. This was a day of reckoning, and everyone knew it.

Cregan stopped before the throne, his gaze never leaving Larys. “Is this the man?” His voice was low, cold, carrying the weight of the North’s judgment.

Aegon III’s voice was soft but steady, carrying across the room. “He is.”

Larys tilted his head, his lips curling into a faint smile. “Lord Stark,” he rasped, his voice slick with that same insidious calm. “I’ve been expecting you.”

The rage that had simmered beneath Cregan’s surface for so long now threatened to boil over. He drew Ice from its scabbard with a smooth, practiced motion, the blade gleaming in the dim light of the throne room.

“Do you think I care about your expectations, Strong?” Cregan’s voice was a snarl, the cold fury of a man who had been forced to bury his son. “I care about one thing—justice for the blood you spilled.”

Larys’s eyes glinted, but he said nothing, his smile never faltering. The man had no remorse, no shame. It only stoked the fire burning in Cregan’s chest.

Aegon III shifted uncomfortably on the Iron Throne, but he made no move to intervene. He had given Cregan free rein to restore order, to bring justice to the blood-soaked realm that had been ravaged by the Dance. And justice had come in the form of the Wolf of Winterfell.

“Do you remember what you said to my wife?” Cregan growled, his voice low and dangerous as he took a step closer to Larys. “You made her choose between our son and her dragon. You took them both.”

Larys met his gaze, his smile fading slightly, but he remained silent.

“You broke her,” Cregan continued, his grip tightening on Ice. “You took her heart, you took my son—an innocent babe. And now, I will take your life.”

For the first time, a flicker of something crossed Larys’s face. Not fear—never fear—but something close to it. Perhaps it was the realization that the wolf had come for him, and there would be no escape from the jaws of vengeance this time.

Cregan’s voice grew louder, echoing through the throne room. “You will die quickly, Strong. Unlike my wife, you will not feel the pain you caused, the agony of watching something you love ripped from your grasp. But you will die.”

He raised Ice, its edge gleaming in the dim light. The room was utterly still, the assembled lords and ladies holding their breath.

“I sentence you to death,” Cregan declared, his voice steady now, filled with the finality of judgment. “Not as a lord, not as a commander of men, but as a father who has lost his son.”

And then, with one swift, brutal motion, Ice fell.

The blade cleaved through Larys Strong’s neck, the sharp ring of steel followed by the dull thud of his head hitting the stone floor. The room remained silent, the weight of the moment settling over the crowd like a blanket of snow. There was no cheer, no applause—only the grim satisfaction of justice served.

Cregan stood over the body, his chest heaving, his grip on Ice still firm. The blood of the man who had taken everything from him dripped from the sword’s edge, pooling at his feet. But for the first time since that terrible night, something inside him felt… quieter. Not whole, not healed—but quieter.

He turned and faced Aegon, his gaze unyielding, his voice cold and final. “Justice has been done.”

Aegon III, still pale, nodded slowly. “It has.”

The lords and ladies of the court remained silent as Cregan sheathed Ice, his expression unreadable. He had come for vengeance, and now that vengeance had been claimed.

But as he walked from the throne room, leaving behind the corpse of Larys Strong, Cregan Stark knew one thing: No matter how many enemies he felled, no matter how much blood was spilled, the hole left by his son’s death would never truly heal. The North would be strong, as it always was, but the scars of the Dance and the treachery of the Greens would remain with him for the rest of his life.

And as he returned to Winterfell, to his wife and what remained of his family, he vowed that his son’s name would never be forgotten, that the legacy of the wolves would live on.

For Winterfell. For the North. For Eddard.

#house of the dragon #hotd x reader #hotd #hotd x y/n #hotd x you #cregan hotd #cregan stark #cregan x reader #cregan x you #cregan x y/n #house stark #reader insert

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divinegrey · 2 months ago

Text

ᴘᴀɪɴᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴏᴡɴ ʙʟᴜᴇ / ᴊɪɴx x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

sorry for the wait everybody!! been writing other things in the meantime, arcane hasn't been my sole focus. also i have homework and exams. but here's something to appease all of you!! anon, i hope i did this prompt justice!

prompt: I'd like to request a Jinx x Fem! Reader. I like the idea of the reader being a follower of Jinx, as I think the dynamic could be fun. I think it could be cool to explore a follower of Jinx getting to know her and realizing that she's more than just a symbol. She's a multifaceted individual.

words: 1585

warnings: none

It started when she caught you tagging the side of a building. With her face, no less.

With all the shit going down in Zaun in the wake of Silco’s death and every gang leftover fighting for scraps of power, it was only time before Jinx caught up to the fact that while yes, her face is plastered everywhere on wanted posters, there are about a dozen more spray-painted graffiti tags of her over them. Which was the goal of what you were doing when she dropped down from a building and walked to your side.

All she did was look at the statuesque version of her face, washed in shades of blue, and say, “My nose doesn’t look like that.”

And she was right.

Of course, with time, you got better at it. The wanted posters did a mean disservice, honestly. The only thing they got correct were the pink eyes, pink eyes that followed you when you went to your shitty box of an apartment and flopped onto a mattress flattened by years of use. You’d go to sleep, wake up, grab your paint duffel, and head back out again. The nice thing about Zaun is that there’s always an empty spot just waiting to be tagged.

Somehow, Jinx always finds you.

“You know people see you as a leader, right?” You say, shaking a can of neon pink, the ball rattling around inside the canister. You glance over your shoulder to where Jinx sits on some pipes connected to the wall, her braids dangling and the gold bullet casings wrapped around reflecting the faint light that falls through the fissures. With a gesture to your own head of hair, dyed an insane hodge-podge of bright colors, blue included, you continue, “Silco’s gone. Whole world down here has turned upside down. But for the first time in a while, we’ve got hope. Cuz of you. Cuz of what you did to those fuckin’ Pilties.”

“For all the good it did,” Jinx remarks, a dryness to her tone you’ve come to know and love.

“I’m serious. C’mon, you can’t tell me you don’t know the reason why I keep painting you? Why a dozen other taggers I know keep painting you? Why the color blue is nearly sold out in every damn shop?” You kneel down, arcing a curve of pink paint along the grey brick wall, moving quick and precise. Overthinking it makes it worse. “I’m not wearing spray-painted clothes in your colors for nothin, Jinx.”

She turns, peering at you. In the shadows, her eyes seem to reflect some more, glowing like a cat’s would. “Because y’all have some weird, deluded sense that I’m a leader, or somethin’.”

“You are. To me. To us.” You point at the other tags in the alleyway, some of them copies of the same mark you’ve seen a dozen times around town. Jinx’s name, sigils of BOOM! and explosives doodled about. You twist and take a seat on the scaffolding, your legs dangling off the side of it. “I didn’t know you when I first started drawing you. I heard what you did, and I thought damn, there’s someone out there willing to actually do something. In a single day, you did more than Silco ever did in years. Sure, we might be going head long into a war, but dying free is better than living under someone else’s boot.”

Jinx hums. She leaps off the pipes, crossing the gap between you and her with ease, landing on the wooden scaffolding. She straightens up, gazing at the half-finished tag you’re working on. With a hum, she turns to you, and puts something in your hand. Before you have the time to look down and figure out what it is, Jinx says, “Nozzle control. Quality on some of your cans are shit, no offense. Slap that thing on it and you won’t have an issue after that.”

“Oh, thanks—”

“Don’t mention it!” Jinx steps off the scaffolding, landing on the ground below with a THUD. “And for the record, I ain’t the kinda person to follow.”

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that to convince me!” You call down, grinning from ear to ear. Her brows furrow together, then a small huff, a hint of a smile on her own face. She walks away, off to do… whatever it is that she does when she’s not hanging out with you.

It isn’t for some time that you see her again. You’d say you’re worried, but you pass through the crowds hearing whispers of Jinx sightings. Every day, it seems another head of blue hair appears, the quiet signs of revolution brewing in the heart of Zaun as the enforcers grow more and more strict, searching anyone and everyone for some hint or clue to find the one that destroyed the Council Chamber in Piltover. You’ll never say a word.

You walk into your apartment. Work was… work, boring and mind-numbing as it always is. You wonder if you can handle another day of it, but another day will bring another chance of seeing her out there, so you decide not to fly off the handle just yet. You shrug off the soot-stained work clothes, and where you reach for your paint-splattered jacket, it isn’t there.

Instead, a note.

Never had anyone believe in me quite like you. The Hound’s statue, midnight. Come and get it.

With the pink lettering and the doodles of monkeys and bombs scribbled across the page, it doesn’t need to be said just who left this note. You snatch it off the wall, utterly beaming; Gently, you fold it into fourths, tucking it into your shirt. Thank god for the late shift— less waiting!

Any of the weariness you might’ve felt before is gone as you race through the streets, taking any and every shortcut you know. The night is quiet, what with the enforced curfew put up by the Pilties to discourage wandering, not that they’ve done a good job of it. Zaun is Zaun, and the cogs down here will always keep turning, whether Piltover likes it or not.

When you arrive at the open plaza where the statue erected to Vander, the Hound of the Underground, is, your mouth drops in shock to find the entire plaza covered, every square inch of it, in neon paint. Sigils upon sigils that you have seen time and time again, glowing in the dark. It reaches all the way to the statue, pink highlights in Vander’s hair and blue accents along his metal jacket.

Sitting on the shoulder of the statue, paint can in one hand and your jacket in the other, is Jinx.

“Shoulda known you’d be a little early. Good thing, I work fast,” Jinx remarks. She crooks a finger at you to come closer, and you do, taking care to step over the paint lines on the stone. You’re a little in awe of the work she’s done— how has nobody taken notice? Come to think of it, you heard there was a scuffle a few blocks away. The logistics don’t seem to matter anymore the closer you get to her.

You arrive at the base of the statue. “How’d you even know where I live?”

“Sweets, there are a lot of things I know about you. And a lotta things you know about me. Things that might drive other people away, but not you,” Jinx says, something like an angel as she looks down upon you from the statue. In the flash of a second and the trace of neon light left in the sky, she’s standing in front of you, your back pressed against the statue. The beam of moonlight that breaks through shines on her, her shimmer-pink eyes locked onto your frame. “You keep sticking to the inside my brain, can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Could say the same for you,” you reply, a little breathless. “Why’d you do all this? Get my jacket and bring me here?”

“Cuz you showed me somethin’ important. That people, for whatever crazy reason they got in their head, believe in me,” Jinx says. She holds out your jacket to you, and you take it, slipping your arms through the sleeves and fixing the collar so it stands upright. Her eyes go from bottom to top, taking her sweet time. “I wanna show em what I can do. Give those people with my blue in their hair a reason to keep going. To keep fighting.”

“You have me. All the way, Jinx,” you say, putting a hand over the front of your jacket, where a pink heart has been painted. “So what do you wanna do? Other than all this?”

“Right now?” Jinx cocks a grin. “I wanna kiss you.”

What? You blink, wondering if you heard that right, but her taking a step closer to you only confirms that yes, you did hear it right. You swallow the nerves, finding your cheeks hurting from how hard you’re smiling. “And then what?”

“And then, we show Zaun all the fun we have to offer, and we tell Piltover to shove their Hextech where the sun don’t shine,” Jinx finishes, her hands grabbing the lapels of your jacket and pulling you in. Your lips touch hers, something you never thought would happen, not in your wildest dreams.

But here you are, arms wrapped around Jinx as she kisses you in the streets of Zaun, the cry of revolution soon to come.

~~~~~

A/N: thank you for reading!! comments are always appreciated <3

#jinx x reader #arcane jinx x reader #arcane jinx #jinx #arcane netflix #arcane #arcane imagines #arcane jinx imagines #jinx imagines

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