#now the old king is dead long live the king

[patrice-bergerons]

i have plans tm for this verse, but for now enjoy a bit of luxurious rossier and fitzier h/c, hehe

Francis is drifting in a cold, pitch-black ocean, tossed on the rumbling waves like a piece of driftwood.  He has no body, no lungs with which to inhale the freezing waters, nor limbs with which to wade.  Perhaps he is dead.  It is just as well; there is no before in this place—nor an after—but he thinks he was rather exhausted with the business of living.

Please, God.  Please do not say that.

Hm.  Is he dead too then?  Francis is greedy—he will take the company.  He will devour it.  Still his heart gives a little pang; he would have wished better for his friend.  His James.

Francis, he calls to him.

If only Francis had a tongue with which to speak that dearest of names himself.

Francis, open your eyes for me.

What eyes?  To behold what light?  Does James not know that there is only darkness in this place? 

Still for him, Francis would do anything.  For him, he will try.

He groans.  When he pries his eyelids open—heavy as boulders—what greets him is . . .  A blur.  Too dark for a canvas tent and yet not nearly dark enough for the ocean.

“Francis?  There you are.  Hey.”

It is.  It is him.  There isn’t a corner wretched or remote enough in this world—or in the next—Francis would not know that voice.  A hand comes to cup his cheek.  Warmth floods his skin.  He wants Francis to look at him.  Francis would rather screw his eyes shut and drift again than to risk discovering that James is with him but in imagination, the plea of a desperate mind, that they will never meet again just as he’d feared.

“James?” he whimpers, his voice a foreign ungainly thing.

“I’m here.  Francis, Francis will you look at me?”

Well then.  There is nothing for it.  Francis takes as deep a breath as he can manage—then he looks.

James Clark Ross, in all his glory, is sitting beside his bed, smiling at him. 

His hair is longer than Francis remembers; his handsome, beloved face is strained with worry; they are not in a tent but rather on a ship, in a cabin.  A broken sound escapes Francis’s throat, tears stream down his cheek of their own accord.

“James,” he whimpers again, “James, James,” reaching for him with arms that are no longer under his command—James appears to be real, but how can he be–

Oh.  James catches Francis, and he is no phantasm; arms wrap around him in an instant, and they are perfectly solid, warm, real.  Francis lets out another sob.  The only word that will leave his lips is his friend’s name.

James.  James.

James.

Last thing he remembers, they were on the shale, on King William’s Land; they were in a tent, and James—his other James—had asked him to–

He digs his nails deeper into James’s shoulder.  “James–” he croaks, against the tidal wave of comfort his friend soothes him with.  “Fitz– Fitzjames– is he–”  He was terribly ill; his wounds had re-opened; he had asked Francis to–

But James Ross only laughs, a sound as light as the spring breeze.  Francis has missed him more than he can put to words. 

“He will be here in no time.  I deserve a medal for succeeding in persuading him to leave your cabin for long enough to get a few hours’ sleep.  He would not yield.”

Francis clings to James and tries to let the touch centre him, so that he may parse the meaning of his friend’s words.  His other James was . . . here?  He is–

“Alive?”

James Ross lets him go at that only just enough such that they may look one another in the eye, one hand still gently and deftly brushing away the tears that will not stop falling from his eyes.

“Yes,” he says with a radiant smile that leaves not even the smallest room for doubt, “you are the one who gave us a fright in that department, old man.”

That makes–  Francis glances around himself, the cabin, the gentle sway of the ship in open water, the clean, unsoiled blankets on top of him.  None of it makes sense.

“How?”

James rubs his arm.  Francis has missed it so much, the motion alone threatens to swallow what little there is that remains of his sanity. 

“You collapsed—on the quarterdeck.  Gave us a bit of a fright.”

Francis has no memory of it.  The last ship he was on was the Terror, abandoned there on the ice.  He coughs and a cup is placed to his lips; the water tastes divine.

“When?” he asks, when he has drunk his fill.

“Two days ago.”  James’s brow draws closer together, and if his smile remains intact it is only through the power of a Herculean will.  “We did not know whether you would–” James cuts himself off, leaning on his smile and letting his knuckles brush against Francis’s cheek.  “Well, you are awake now, and little else matters.”

“Francis.”

God, Francis would know that voice in the most wretched or remote corner of this world or the next, too.  He cannot see him, for James—Ross—blocks the way; he tries to sit, he needs to see, only his muscles appear to have turned into floss. 

His Jameses resolve the problem for him.  Fitzjames steps into the berth and Ross leans back, granting Francis a better view.

“Fitzy,” he greets the newcomer with warm ease.

Fitzy?  Since when?  But if Fitzjames is offended, he does not show it.  He stands there—he is able to stand and stand tall, even if he leans on a cane for support—a brilliant smile lights up his face—his eyes—their fire, once dimmed, is back now in full force—no bruises or sores mar his face—his figure, if still thin, is no longer gaunt.  He has cut his hair.

Francis stares and stares, fresh tears renewing the tracks on his cheeks.

“I shall leave you to it,” Ross says, standing up.  Fitzjames takes the chair vacated by him and Francis cannot help but reach for his hand. 

It is given to him freely.  James, to his delight, is just as solid too; his hand is just as cold and insistent as before, interlacing itself in Francis’s as a matter of course.  Francis takes a moment—several in fact—just to bask in its glory, alongside the dear visage peering down at him.  Short hair suits James.  It is a blessing beyond words to see him well.

And yet.

“We are on a ship,” Francis says slowly on account of his still not fully cooperative tongue.  “Last I remember. . .”

He frowns, groping in the depths of his memory for the several weeks—if not months—he must be missing.

But James completes the thought for him.

“We were on the shale?”  Well, that–  He cannot help but nod, and James lets out a sharp breath, says, “I was dying.”

“Aye.”  Francis’s voice sounds so small even to his own ears.  He holds James’s hand tighter in his own and is grateful when James reaches out with his other hand to brush his knuckles over Francis’s cheek.

He is neither a mirage nor an apparition.  He is here, alive, hale.

“How?” Francis asks again.  His head is pounding now, body already exhausted as if after a full day of hauling. 

“I haven’t a clue.”  James shakes his head.  “I awoke here two days ago and– you were–” A dark look settles on his face.  “I did not want to die, before, but not if that was the price–”

Francis gives their linked hands a squeeze.

“Not dead.”  A reminder they both need, evidently.  Although, on that note–  “The others?”

James smiles, revealing gums that no longer bleed.  Despite it all, Francis cannot help the way his breath stutters with relief.  With relief too, when James says, “all well—not Mr Hickey.”

Blanky then, Jopson, Edward.  Oh.

“None think our rescue queer or find anything amiss.” 

Francis lets his eyes drift shut again, rubbing at his forehead with his free hand.  It’s not unlike being pissed out of one’s mind and trying to run a command meeting, this.  The world, the facts, they slip from his fingers before they can be grasped.

Rescue, a ship, James Ross.

James, this James, strokes his shoulder. 

“Rest now Francis,” he commands, “all else can wait.”

[linkemon]

Beauty and the Beast (Bakugō Katsuki x Reader) Good Ending

ʙᴀᴋᴜɢᴏ ᴋᴀᴛꜱᴜᴋɪ ʜᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴄᴜʀꜱᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴀ ʙᴇᴀꜱᴛ. ʟᴏᴄᴋᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴄᴀꜱᴛʟᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄᴀʟ ᴏʙᴊᴇᴄᴛꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ʜɪꜱ ꜱᴜʙᴊᴇᴄᴛꜱ, ʜᴇ ꜱʟᴏᴡʟʏ ʟᴏꜱᴇꜱ ʜᴏᴘᴇ. ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ᴏɴᴇ ᴅᴀʏ, [ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ], ꜰᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ʜᴇʀ ꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ'ꜱ ʟɪꜰᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛɪᴍɪᴅᴀᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴏᴠᴇʀʜᴀᴜʟ ᴀʀʀɪᴠᴇꜱ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀꜱᴛʟᴇ. ɪɴɪᴛɪᴀʟ ʀᴇʟᴜᴄᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ, ʙᴏʀɴꜱ ᴀ ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱʜɪᴘ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴀᴅᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀᴇꜱ, ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ɢʀᴏᴡꜱ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛɪᴍᴇ.

The whole series can be found here. Part 1 is here. Bad Ending version.

Good ending

— Shigaraki is on his way! With a group of people! — Eri burst into the training grounds.

The enchanted objects froze. They had always known this day would come, yet they still weren’t prepared. They had hoped they would never have to lay eyes on the cruel man they had only heard about in stories. But now, their time was running out. As the snow melted, so did their hope. They lived from day to day, avoiding the temptation to count the weeks. April loomed before them like a grim executioner. They moved more slowly with each passing day, unable to keep up with the other palace residents.

Eri ran up to Mei, who was stubbornly tinkering with a prototype net. She wanted it to be able to fire and catch intruders. But it still wasn’t working — she tapped it impatiently, frustrated. She seemed lost in her own world. When the girl delivered the news, Mei wiped grease from her face and got back to work. She had to be extremely determined to fix what was broken. Maybe that was her way of helping her friends as best she could.

[Reader] lowered her silver sword. She wasn’t sure what she felt. Fear for her loved ones but also determination. She had made her decision long ago. She wasn’t going to back down. Not even if Katsuki disagreed.

Bakugō wasn’t doing well today. In fact, he hadn’t been for weeks, though he refused to admit it. He looked exhausted. Given his worsening condition, she didn’t want to agree to further training. But he had insisted that if she truly intended to stay, even after the thaw, she had to promise she would continue honing her skills under his watchful eye. So she spent her days swinging her sword. Eri would sometimes join them, just to watch. She couldn’t lift the heavy weapon but whenever her sister wasn’t paying attention, she would pester the beast to teach her how to handle a dagger. And with that knowledge, she had demanded to stay in the palace until the curse was broken. Despite everyone’s heated protests, she had been adamant and no one had been able to change her mind.

Katsuki had hoped to avoid exactly this situation. If only Shigaraki had arrived a little later, he wouldn’t have found [Reader] or Eri here. At most, he would have stumbled upon a few household objects and a wild, unconscious beast that wouldn’t have cared either way. But now, it seemed he would have to face the man who wanted him dead.

— You have to leave — he said, sheathing his golden sword in an old, battered scabbard.

— No way. We’ve already talked about this... Katsuki?! — The girl rushed forward as soon as she saw the beast start to sway.

She helped him lean against her but it wasn’t much use. He was far too heavy for her to support properly. She cast a worried glance toward the palace entrance. She had no choice but to drag the protesting king to the greenhouse. Everyone except Mei followed them.

The blue rose was in a dreadful state. The last bloom withered before their eyes. Each petal seemed to fall faster than the last. [Reader] remembered how magnificent the bush had looked when she first arrived. Now it was nothing, and, worse, it didn’t seem to be helping Bakugō at all.

The beast collapsed heavily beside it. His breathing became ragged. His eyes were clouded. A roar escaped his throat. The girl was certain that Shigaraki would be here in an instant because of it — and, unfortunately, she was right. Her former fiancé had brought a sizable crowd.

Strangely, they weren’t all mercenaries. At least not as many as she had expected. The vast majority were local farmers and townsfolk. There were also a few richly dressed noblemen but not many. Most of them were likely waiting for the situation to unfold before openly supporting the man.

[Reader] drew her sword. She allowed herself a quick glance at Katsuki. He was standing, though unsteadily. Behind him were Eri, gripping her dagger and the enchanted objects.

— Behold the beast! — Shigaraki called out calmly, drawing a black blade.

The crowd hesitated to move. Besides, the greenhouse wasn’t large enough for them all to attack at once. Despite their numbers, they were wary. No one wanted to be the first to fall to the monster.

From the group emerged Kurogiri. His black cloak billowed ominously. His eyes burned with murderous intent. He must have craved revenge deeply, for his knuckles turned white as he tightened his grip on his weapon. He lunged at the girl. Though she was prepared, Bakugō was faster. Gold gleamed in his hand.

With an unsteady, weakened motion, he parried the strike. His opponent twisted, attacking again. But this time, he aimed for Eri.

The girl dodged and struck out with her dagger. She only grazed him but that didn’t matter. Katsuki swung his clawed hand. Kurogiri hadn’t expected it to be a feint. The sword cleaved through bone. The man staggered back, missing his right hand. He panted heavily, trying to stem the bleeding. One of the mercenaries clumsily wrapped the stump in the fabric of his black cloak. Kurogiri lost consciousness. Shigaraki glanced at his men. This display was supposed to rally them into battle. But now, it seemed he would have to dirty his own hands. He stepped forward.

[Reader] heard a dull thud against the floor. Katsuki’s body had collapsed beneath the rosebush. Eri tried to wake him, but to no avail. The enchanted objects seemed frozen in place, their eyes darting around as they desperately tried to grasp what was happening. Shigaraki attacked. [Reader] took a deep breath. Silver danced in her hands. This was the first time she had ever fought someone for real. And her former fiancé had spent the past years training with some of the finest swordsmen. Though many had underestimated him due to his hunched posture, he quickly proved to be a dangerous man. Even if he was better at pulling the strings of power than wielding a blade himself. He struck mercilessly. She parried, searching for an opening. Desperation crept in. His defense seemed impenetrable. Worse still, she saw, from the corner of her eye, the crowd preparing to take advantage of the moment. The braver noblemen edged closer, tightening the circle. She struck again. Sweat trickled down her skin, pain searing her arm. The fight was nearing the end and she was losing.

She struck once more. She recalled her first lessons with Katsuki. It was one of the things that had brought them closer when they first met. He had been terrifying when she arrived at the palace with Overhaul. He had also been rude and unfriendly when she was getting to know him. And then, without her quite knowing when, he had become bearable. Over time, she had wanted to see him more and more. She liked his sense of humor. The fact that he didn’t treat her like the 'Beauty' she had been in the estate. And, though he rarely admitted it, she knew he enjoyed their time together too. Long conversations with him had become a part of her life. The time when he was right there, beside her, with their magical friends and Eri, had become something that filled her heart with joy. Because of him, she had begun to think of the palace as home. A real one. The kind she had never experienced before.

Holding back a sob, she attacked. The silver blade was mercilessly blocked. Emerald eyes flashed as Shigaraki knocked the weapon from her grasp. Was this how it was all going to end? No more tea with La Brava and Gentle. No more stacks of new compliments from Kaminari. Stories of Midoriya from Ochaco and Kirishima would fade into oblivion. Eri’s laughter, ringing so cheerfully in her ears ever since they arrived, would be silenced. And most importantly… Katsuki…

He could say whatever he wanted. Push her away for the sake of her safety. She knew he cared. She wanted to break the curse so that he wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore. She longed for him to regain his freedom and, without the enchantment hanging over him, finally tell her whether he felt the same as she did. At first, she had thought it was just friendship. And maybe it had been. Until it wasn’t. Something changed in the winter. She started looking at him differently. It was love. She was certain of it. Not the wild, sudden kind described in Eri’s fairy tales. It didn’t give her butterflies in her stomach. It was calm and steady. She was sure of it. And now fear gripped her heart. In just a moment, everything would be over. A single second stretched into eternity.

She wanted to live. To tell Katsuki everything that was racing through her mind. She didn’t know where the sudden courage came from. At the last moment, she grabbed the blade. She recreated the wrist movements the king had tried to teach her months ago, twisting the tip of the sword. For a moment, she thought she saw Izuku. Which was impossible, considering he had been dead for so long. She stared in a trance as Shigaraki’s defense was broken. The man stumbled over the vines of a rosebush. He fell straight onto the blade of a mercenary who had just charged into battle. A horrifying wail escaped him. With the last of his strength, he clutched the wound near his heart. But [Reader] paid him no mind.

— Not another step! — she shouted breathlessly, pointing her sword forward.

Seeing their leader in a pool of blood, the crowd hesitated. Someone called for help, while others gathered around Kurogiri. They didn’t know what to do. But she hadn’t expected them to simply drop their weapons. It started with the farmers.

— It’s... it’s him! — An old man looked shaken.

— He looks just like her… like Queen Mitsuki — added the woman beside him.

— People, the legend is true! — One of the mercenaries let go of his sword.

The counts fled the greenhouse in panic. They knew they had lost. Some of the people ran outside the palace. Others, intrigued, moved closer.

The girl turned her head. She, too, dropped her weapon in shock. A boy lay on the ground. At first, she wondered who he was. It wasn’t until she saw Eri’s smile that she understood — it was Katsuki. He was no longer a beast but a man. She had never seen any portraits of him. After all, he had destroyed all his human likenesses before she had arrived at the palace. His blond hair was disheveled. He blinked a few times, revealing red irises. He stared at his hands in disbelief before looking at his subjects. They looked older than they had on the day the curse was cast but other than that, they were unchanged. He got to his feet unsteadily, still dazed. His gaze landed on [Reader]. Before he could say a word, she rushed at him, laughing through her tears.

— You’re alive… Katsuki, you’re alive! — She threw her arms around his neck.

— It takes more than that to get rid of me, idiot — he whispered, pulling her into a firm embrace. — I never got the chance to tell you before. I was afraid of how you’d react. You wouldn’t be safe with me, so I tried to hide it and that was a mistake. I want you to know the truth. I love you, [Reader]. — The king gently tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, his hand tenderly cupping her face.

— I love you too, Katsuki. — [Reader] pressed their lips together in a kiss.

All other sounds seemed to fade. The only thing that mattered was how close they were. A warmth spread through their hearts. Maybe Eri’s fairy tales weren’t so far from the truth after all. This had to be a kiss of true love.

What happened next was described in many different ways. Perhaps because each person in the greenhouse remembered the events a little differently. But there were a few things on which they all agreed. The blue rosebush miraculously came back to life, despite its terrible state just moments before. Kirishima grew into the title of Captain of the Guard. He organized the farmers and mercenaries with the help of gold from the treasury. They helped capture the fleeing counts. Mei’s net came in handy, finished just in time. Was it entirely legal? Probably not but no one who could spread the story too soon managed to escape the palace. Despite his supposed retirement, Gentle proudly tossed Kurogiri into the dungeon. La Brava rushed to the throne room to fetch the royal insignia for the king, even though not everyone present was fully convinced of his rule. Ochaco took on the task of explaining to the gathered crowd who the blond boy in the crown truly was, with the help of a few others. As it turned out, some of them had worked in the palace long ago. They recognized both her and Katsuki, so much like his mother. Kaminari played a significant role in negotiating with the many opponents of the new monarch. His natural charm made him perfect for the task.

Rumors spread in the palace that on that April day, Princess Eri had hugged everyone she could out of sheer happiness. Of course, the younger staff refused to believe the older ones, claiming it was impossible for Her Highness to be so open. At least until they themselves experienced her joy during a grand birthday celebration when she personally embraced each person who had helped with the preparations.

— Not ready yet? — Eri burst into the chamber, her dress rustling. — Come on! You don’t have to kiss every time I see you… — She pretended to be disgusted.

— Have you ever heard of knocking? — [Reader] laughed as she adjusted Katsuki’s shirt cuff.

— We’re leaving now — the man announced, fastening the red cloak over his shoulders.

The second coronation was quite the challenge. After long months of securing allies and several more spent convincing the public that Bakugō truly was the descendant of Mitsuki and Masaru, they had finally succeeded. Legally, it wasn’t necessary but the people and the council insisted on an official ceremony. Katsuki had spent a long time pondering whether he truly wanted to go through with it. For much of his childhood — perhaps all of it — he had longed to escape the responsibility that came with sitting on the throne. But in the end, he concluded that if someone like Shigaraki was to rule Musutafu, then it was better for him to take matters into his own hands. Surely, after the late king, many others would come scheming for power. His mother would never have forgiven him for leaving the country in their hands. The king had promised himself that he would try to introduce democracy. Step by step. After poring over books he had long avoided, he realized that it could be a great solution. Some neighbouring countries had already begun implementing it and with good results. Even if it were to happen only years from now, when Eri ascended the throne, it was worth trying.

The girl had grown into a remarkable person. Though she had become a bit more serious, her immense kindness remained unchanged. The people adored her, demanding that she be included in the line of succession. He didn’t want the teenager to be forced into it the way he once had. However, when he asked her opinion, she declared that she was ready and would work hard to earn the crown. [Reader], in contrast to her sister, wasn’t particularly interested in the legalities of succession. She helped the two of them as best she could but at the mention of 'queen' she merely shrugged. That didn’t mean, of course, that she wouldn’t become one in the future. Katsuki, despite his many duties, found himself dreaming of proposing.

The guards opened the doors to the restored throne room. Kirishima was scolding one of the new recruits in the Palace Guard. Moments later, he stood beside Bakugō. He smiled, and his friend returned the gesture. The men walked into the chamber, following the long carpet. Katsuki took his seat on the throne. The crown on his head no longer felt as heavy as he remembered it years ago.

Gentle announced that everyone was invited to join the festivities. La Brava led the first dance alongside him. They twirled across the ballroom, inviting foreign diplomats into conversation. No doubt many more cups of tea would be poured that evening. Kaminari had disappeared from the king’s sight — he had probably gone to spread the word that the celebrations had begun. He had designed the festival games in the city. Along with Ochaco, he had made sure that the cheerful atmosphere extended beyond the palace. Food and attractions had been prepared well in advance for the large public squares.

The head maid stood to the side, scolding Eri for wrinkling her dress. From time to time, she glanced at the large portrait of her fiancé, which hung prominently beside His Majesty. A smile graced her lips. Mei, as the royal inventor, occupied one of the raised platforms, adjusting her equipment. Despite her ball gown, the grease on her hands revealed that she had spent the day working. Another one of her creations was about to be presented for use in the agricultural sector. She hoped it would be useful for farmers. Her assistants approached her cautiously, asking when everything would be ready.

— What are you thinking about? — [Reader] asked when the king placed his crown on a cushion and invited her to dance.

The dance steps they performed surprised some of the guests. Surely, not every foreign visitor had heard of their wild love story. No one outside their circle of friends ever learned why they moved sideways across the ballroom, dancing to a street song that hardly suited the grand surroundings. Just as not everyone knew that they woke up an hour early each morning to start the day with sword training. Or that their future vacation plans involved an incognito journey to foreign lands. Those who frequented the palace, however, were already used to the fact that the current ruler and his loved ones were anything but ordinary.

— I’m thinking about how lucky I am. We’re all here together and you’re right beside me. — Bakugō smiled.

— Thank you. — [Reader] placed a brief kiss on his lips.

— For what? — Katsuki tilted his head.

— For meeting you — she replied, spinning.

— In that case, I thank you too. — The man took a few familiar steps.

— Oh? Are we competing now? — [Reader] gave him a mock-disapproving look.

They had changed so much, yet at the same time, they were still the same as when their journey together had begun.

— Thank you for breaking my curse. For teaching me how to love.

[lexisloops]

Maglor spent 6000 years wondering the shores singing Viva La Vida by Coldplay, you cant change my mind

[hauntingblue]

Ace...?? they cloned my beautiful wife...

[applecidersstuff]

You can say whatever you want, but “Viva La Vida” feels like the end of “Crooked Kingdom”

It feels like Inej standing on her ship looking back at Ketterdam promising to came back.

It feels like Wylan and Jesper laughing in the kitchen of Van Eck mansion.

It feels like Nina on her way to Fjerda.

It feels like Matthias being welcomed home.

It feels like Kaz standing on the berth looking at Inej leave.

It feels like an ending.

[nikoisme]

actually the fact that odysseus knew he'd be gone for 20 years makes the gears in my brain turn. You kiss your son goodbye knowing you will miss every milestone of his. He will be a grown man and will not remember you. You will be a father only by title. Your wife will lay alone in your wedding bed, she will wake and see the side you've slept on is empty. You won't hold each other for a long, long time. Your parents may not even be there to welcome you back. You know you will return, but the war stretches on and on. Your comrades fall. Your ships are on fire. Your best warriors are nothing but ashes in an urn. But it's eventually over, you can go home. But still, there's more time left. First it's a storm. It's winding up in strange lands. It's hunger. It's temptation. Your men grow weary. You have twelve ships and then you have one and then it's only you on a single timber. You know you will return, but everything has gone so horribly wrong that you can't help but wonder if the fates fooled you. Everyone you know is either dead or are living again. You are the only one stuck in between. Neither dead or alive. You sit on a beach staring out to the sea from the moments the birds sing til the sun dips over the horizon. Every day is the same - you sit on the stones and weep, you trek the shores, during the night you're in her bed. Your skin is cracked and sunburnt, your beard long and tangled, your hair etched with more and more silver hairs. Your eyes are dull, sunken. Your bones ache when you walk, your breath is shorter. The sun rises and sets. The waves wash away your footprints. You are growing old but the island is the same. You are left behind. Your home will change and you won't change with it. In fact, everyone will change, but you will not recognize what's different. Some of the lines under your eyes will be the hauntings of war, while your wife's will be from the sleepless nights of buying you time. You flinch when you see each other. You expected to see someone else, and she expected to see no one at all. You could once hold your boy in your arms, but now it feels like he's the one holding you. The trees in your orchard have grown taller. Some of the houses in your kingdom are empty. The children that sat on your knees now have their own children on their own knees - or they lie dead, by your own hand. Who are you? Who is your son, your wife? You will get to know each other, you will change together eventually. But there will still be something off, like a brick not fitting quite right in the foundation. Off like a living man among the dead, someone who wasn't fated to die, but was supposed to die a long time ago. A dead man among the living. You will not belong, even though you are the father of your son, the husband of your wife, the son of your father, the king of your land. There will always be something missing, something aching.

And you are willing to let it all happen when you lift your baby son from the field, away from the plow.

[ryin-silverfish]

A Guide to the Chinese Underworld (and what it isn't)

As many FSYY and fox posts as there were on my blog, I am actually a huge fan of the Chinese Underworld mythos. Mostly because I was once a morbid little kid that loved reading about the excavations of ancient tombs, and found the statues depicting hellish torture in the Haw Par Villa "super cool".

Apart from the aesthetics, the history of its evolution is also fascinating. Most of us, Chinese or not, only know the most popular version of the Underworld——the "Ten Kings" system, yet that isn't always the case. So today, I'll start off with a short summary of that.

In pre-Qin era, there was already this generic idea of a "Realm of the Dead" called the Yellow Spring, Youdu, or Youming, but we know very little about it.

Then, in the Han dynasty, two ideas start to emerge: 1) the Underworld is a bureaucracy, 2) the God of Mt. Tai ruled over the dead.

This early bureaucracy might not function as an agent of punishment; the main focus was on keeping the dead segregated from the living so they wouldn't bring diseases and misfortune to the latter, as well as using those ghosts to enforce collective punishments upon people for their lineage's wrongdoings while they were still alive.

Post-Han, after Buddhism entered China and took root, its idea of karmic punishments and reincarnation and the figure of King Yama was merged with folk and Daoist ideas of the Underworld bureaucracy, and, came Tang dynasty, resulted in the "Ten Kings" system that first appeared in Dunhuang manuscripts.

It was very rudimentary and far from well-established, as seen in Tang legends, with some adopting the Ten Kings system, some sticking to the Lord of Mt. Tai and some favoring King Yama, and overall little agreements on who's in charge of the Underworld.

But the "Ten Kings" system would become the mainstream version from then onwards, used in Ming vernacular novels and made even more popular by folk religion scrolls like the Jade Records (Yuli Baochao).

As such, most points in the following sections will be based on the fully matured "Ten Kings" system of the Underworld, as seen in the Jade Records and JTTW.

What happens when you die?

(This is a fictionalized walkthrough of the posthumous fate of souls under the "Ten Kings" system. I try to stick to the very broad progression outlined in the Jade Records, but many creative liberties are taken on the details.)

Let's say there's a guy named Xiao Ming, and he had just died of a heart attack. Bummers. What now?

Well, the first thing he saw would be the ghost cops.

There isn't really an unanimous agreement on who these ghost cops are: they may be a pair of ghosts in white and black robes, wearing tall hats (Heibai Wuchang), they may have the heads of farm animals (Ox-Head and Horse-Face), or they can just be generic ghost bureaucrats. For convenience's sake, let's say it was the first scenario.

"Who are you guys and where are you taking me?"

"Glad you asked!" The taller ghost cop, being the cheerful one of the pair, replied. It wasn't very reassuring, considering that his tongue was dangling out of his mouth way further than it should. "I'm the White Impermanence, my sour-looking colleague here is the Black Impermanence, and we are taking you to the City God's office."

This City God, a.k.a. Chenghuang, is just like how it sounds: the divine guardian of a city, who also pulls double duty as the head of the local Dead People Customs Office. They are usually virtuous officials deified posthumously, and in JTTW, they fall under the category of "Ghostly immortals", together with the Earth Gods a.k.a. Tudi.

So Xiao Ming went with the two ghost cops——not like he had much of a choice, made his way through the long queue at the City God's office, and was now standing in front of a gruff old magistrate in traditional robes.

"Name?"

"Wang Xiao Ming."

"Age and birth dates?"

"21, April 16 2003…"

After he was done asking questions, the City God flipped through his ledger, then picked up a brush, ticked off Xiao Ming's name, and told him to go get his pass in the next room. More waiting in a queue. Wonderful.

"I never heard anything about needing a pass to get to the Underworld," the girl in front of Xiao Ming asked the ghost cops, who were standing guard nearby. "Is this a new policy or something?"

"Yeah. In the old days, we'd just drag y'all straight to the Ghost Gate." The ghost cop in black said, then muttered to himself, "Fuckin' paperworks and overpopulation, man…"

(This "Dead People Passport" thing was popularized in the middle-to-late Ming dynasty, as shown by the discovery of such documents inside tombs in southern China. )

(It might have evolved from similar passes to the Western Pure Land in lay Buddhism that recorded their acts of merits. Which, in turn, might be traced back to the "Dead People Belongings List" of Han dynasty, to be shown to Underworld bureaucrats so that no one would take away the dead's private property down there or something.)

Anyways, after he received his pass, Xiao Ming departed together with the rest of the bunch, to be led to the Ghost Gate. It was like the world's most depressing tourist group, where instead of tour guides, you got two ghost cops in funny hats, and the only scenery in sight was the desolation of the Yellow Spring Road.

They weren't the only travellers on the road, though. Xiao Ming noticed other groups moving in the far distance, behind the fog and the flickering ghostfire, led by similar figures in black and white.

It made a lot of sense; realistically, there was no way two ghost cops could fetch hundreds of thousands of dead people all by themselves.

(SEA Tang-ki mediums believed there were multiple Tua Di Ya Peks——Hokkien name for the Black and White Impermanences, working for different Underworld Courts.)

At last, the Ghost Gate stood in front of Xiao Ming, guarded by two towering figures. Normally, they'd be Ox-Head and Horse-Face, like what you see at Haw Par Villa's Underworld entrance.

However, older Han dynasty works like Wang Chong's 论衡·订鬼 also mentioned two gods, Shenshu and Yulei, as guardians of the Ghost Gate, who would use reed ropes to capture malicious ghosts and feed them to tigers, making them possibly the earliest incarnation of "Gate Gods".

So here, they were what Xiao Ming sees, standing side by side like proper doormen, silently watching herds of ghosts being funneled through the entrance.

The place was more crowded than a train station during the CNY Spring Rush; the ghost cops had already said their quick goodbye and left to fetch the next group of dead people, leaving the resident officials of the Underworld proper to maintain order and quell any would-be riots.

Now you started seeing the Ox-Head and Horse-Face guys, poking at unruly ghosts with their pitchforks and dragging away the violent ones in chains. Among their ranks were other monstrous beings, blue-faced yakshas and imps, but also regular dead humans who look 100% done with their jobs, like the lady who stamped Xiao Ming's pass when it was finally his turn.

After this point, Xiao Ming had entered the Underworld proper, and his next destination would be the First Court, led by King Qin'guang. Here, his fate should be decided by what is revealed in the King's magical mirror.

If Xiao Ming was a good guy, or someone who had done an equal amount of good and bad things in life, he'd be sent straight to the Tenth Court for reincarnation. However, if the mirror, while replaying his life events, had displayed more evil deeds than good ones, he'd be sent to one of the 2nd-9th Courts for judgment and then punished inside the Eighteen Hells.

Each of the Ten Kings was also assisted by ghostly judges. Many of them were righteous and just officials in life who had been recruited into the Ten Courts posthumously——Cui Jue from JTTW is one such example, while others were living people working part-time for the Underworld, like how Wei Zheng, Taizong's minister, works part-time for the Celestial Bureaucracy in JTTW.

We decide to be nice to Xiao Ming, so, after reliving some embarrassing childhood incidents and cringy teenage phases in front of a bunch of dead bureaucrats, he was found innocent and sent to the Tenth Court.

The queue here was almost as long as the First Court's, stretching on and on alongside of the banks of the Nai River. King of the Turning Wheel made his judgment without even lifting his head when it was Xiao Ming's turn:

"Path of Humans, male, healthy in body and mind, ordinary family. Next!"

Exiting the Tenth Court building, Xiao Ming saw the Terrace of Forgetfulness, standing tall before six bridges, made of gold, silver, jade, stone, wood, and…some unidentified material. Before he could get a good look at them and the little dots moving across those bridges, he was hurried into the Terrace by the ghostly officials.

Now, both JTTW and the Jade Records mention multiple bridges across the Nai River. In the former, there is 3, and the latter, 6. The bridges made of precious materials are for people who will reincarnate into better lives, as the wealthy, the fortunate, and the divine, while the Naihe Bridge is either the common option or the terribad shitty option.

However, the Naihe Bridge proved to be so iconic, it became THE bridge you walk across to reincarnate in popular legends.

Anyways, back to Xiao Ming. He found himself standing in a giant soup kitchen of sorts, with an old lady at the counter, scooping soup out of her steaming pot and into one cup after another.

This is Mengpo, the amnesia soup granny; according to the Jade Records, she was born in the Western Han era, and a pious cultivator who thought of neither the past nor the future, only knowing that her surname was Meng.

Made into an Underworld god by the Jade Emperor, she cooks a soup of five flavors that will wipe the memory of the dead, making sure they do not remember any of their past lives once they reincarnate.

It tastes awful. Like what you get after pouring corn syrup, coffee, chilli sauce, lemon juice and seawater into the same cup.

Such was Xiao Ming's last thought, as he gulped down the soup, and then he knew no more.

Things you should know about the Chinese Underworld:

1. It's not the Christian Hell.

Rather, the Chinese Underworld functions somewhat like the Purgatory, in that there are a lot of torment, but the torment's not eternal, however long the duration may be. Once you finish your sentence, you get reincarnated as something else, though that "something else" is not a guaranteed good birth.

Other people can also speed up the process via transferring of merits: hiring a priest/monk to chant sutras and perform rituals, for example, or performing good deeds in life in dedication to the dead, or they can pray to a Daoist/Buddhist deity to save their loved ones from a dreadful fate.

Interestingly enough, a thesis paper I read mentions that, whereas Buddhist salvation from the Hells was based on transference of merits——you give monks offerings and pay them to chant sutras, so they can cancel out the sinners' bad karma with good ones, Daoist ideas of salvation tend to involve the priest going down there, sorting it out with the Underworld officials, and taking the dead out of the Hells themselves.

(The paper also stops at the Northern-Southern and Tang dynasties, so the above is likely period-specific.)

2. Nor is it run by evil demons.

Underworld officials are not nice guys and look pretty monstrous and torture the sinful dead, but they are not the embodiment of evil. Rather, the faction as a whole is what I'd call Lawful Neutral, who function on this "An Eye for An Eye" logic, where every harm the sinner caused in life must be returned to them, in order for their karmic debts to be cleansed and move on to their next life.

They can absolutely be corrupt and incompetent and take bribes——Tang dynasty Zhiguai tales and Qing folklore compendiums featured plenty of such cases, but that's a very mundane and human kind of evil, not a cosmic/innate one.

This is just my personal opinion, but if you want to do an "evil" Chinese Underworld? It should be a very bureaucratic evil, whose leaders are bootlickers to the higher-ups, slavedrivers to their rank-and-file workers, and bullies who abuse their power over regular dead people.

Not, y'know, Satan and his infernal legions or conspiring Cthulu cultists.

3. The Ten Kings are not Hades.

Make no mistake, they still have a lot of power over your average dead mortal. But in the grand scheme of things? They are the backwater department of the pantheon, who only show up in JTTW to get pushed around and revive the occasional dead people.

When Taizong made his trip to the Underworld, the Ten Kings greeted him as equals——kings of ghosts to the king of the living. If they see themselves as equal in status to a mortal emperor, then, like any mortal emperors, they are subordinate to the Celestial Host, and the balance of power is not even remotely equal or in their favor.

Also, it isn't said outright, but under the Zhong-Lv classification of immortals JTTW is using, Underworld officials will likely be considered Ghostly immortals, the lowest and weakest of the five types, much like Tudis and Chenghuangs.

Essentially: they are ghosts that are powerful enough to not reincarnate and linger on and on, spirits of pure Yin as opposed to true immortals, who are beings of pure Yang.

It's pretty much the shittiest form of immortality, the result you get when you try to speedrun cultivation (the Zhong-Lv text also made a dig at Buddhist meditation here), and if they don't reincarnate or regain a physical body, there is no chance of progressing any further.

Oh, and fun fact? In the Song dynasty, commoners and literati elites alike believed that virtuous officials in life would get appointed as ghostly officials in death.

However, the latter viewed it as a punishment. Which was strange, considering how they still held the same position and the same amount of authority, just over dead people instead of living ones, so there should be no big losses, right?

Well...it was precisely the "dead people" part that made it a punishment. See, a lot of the power and prestige they had as officials came from the benefits they could bring to their families and kins and native places, as well as the potential wealth and reputation bonuses for themselves.

A job in the Dead People Supreme Court would give them the same workload, but with none of those benefits. Since all the dead people had to reincarnate eventually, they couldn't have a fixed group as their power base, or keep their old familial ties and connections. At most, they could help out an occasional dead relative or two.

Like, working for the Underworld Courts was the kind of deadend (no pun intended) job not even living officials wanted for themselves in the afterlife. That's how hilariously sad and pathetic they are.

4. In JTTW at least, they aren't even the highest authorities of the Underworld.

That would be Bodhisattva Ksitigarbha, who is technically their boss, though he seems to be more of a spiritual leader than someone who is actually involved in running the bureaucracy.

Which makes sense, since he has sworn an oath to not attain Buddhahood until all Hells are empty, and his role is to offer relief and salvation to the suffering souls, not judging and punishing them.

Now, historically...even though Ksitigarbha in early Tang legends was still the savior of the dead, he seemed to be unable to interfere with the judicial process of the Underworld, merely showing up to take people away before they were judged by King Yama.

However, in the mid-Tang apocryphal "Sutra of Bodhisattva Ksitigarbha" (地藏菩萨经), he had evolved into the equal of King Yama, with the power of supervision over his judgements. By the time the Scripture on the Ten Kings came out, in artistic depictions, the Ten Kings had become fully subservient to him.

5. Diyu usually refers to the prison-torture chamber part, not the courthouse, nor is it the entirety of the Underworld.

And for the majority of souls that haven't committed crimes, they'll only see the courthouse part before they are sent to reincarnation. That's why I personally don't like, or use the name Diyu for the Chinese Underworld: I prefer the term Difu ("Earth Mansions"), which encompasses the whole realm better.

Also: even though historical sources like the Scripture on the Ten Kings and Jade Records seem to suggest that the dead were just funneled through this Courthouse-Prison-Reincarnation pipeline with no breaks in between, in practice, that isn't the case.

According to popular folk beliefs, after the dead were done with their trials/sentences, they stayed in the Underworld for a period of time and led regular lives, while functioning as ancestor spirits and receiving offerings.

Which would imply that the Underworld had a civilian district of sorts, populated by regular ghosts, making the whole realm even less of a direct Hell/Purgatory equivalent.

6. It is located in a different realm, but still part of the Six Paths and doesn't exist outside of reality.

In Buddhist cosmology, like the Celestial Realm, the Underworld is part of the Realm of Desires and thus subject to all the woes of samsara.

The pain and misery of the Path of Hell may be the worst and most obvious, but becoming a celestial being isn't the goal of serious Buddhists either: despite all the pleasures and near-infinite lifespan they enjoy, they are not free from samsara and will eventually have to reincarnate.

So if, say, the world is being destroyed at the end of a kalpa, all beings of the Six Paths will perish alongside it, leaving behind a clean slate for the cycle to start anew. The dead won't all end up in the Underworld and face eternal damnation.

7. The Black and White Impermanences would not appear in the Underworld pantheon formally until the Qing dynasty.

The concept that when you die, you get fetched to the Underworld by petty ghost bureaucrats is already well-established in Tang legends, but these were just generic ghost bureaucrats in all sorts of colorful official robes, with yellow being the most common color.

The idea of there being two specific psychopomps in black and white would only become popular in the Qing dynasty. Mengpo is kinda similar: although she existed before the Ming-Qing era as a goddess of wind, venerated by boatmen, her "amnesia soup granny" incarnation came from the Jade Records.

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC Prompt. Dead on main with priest Jason: Father Todd brings the Ghost King’s cult into the World of the Living.

So, when Jason dies and returns, the League of Assassins fails to hold him for long because spirits from Far Frozen pick him up after seeing teen through the Lazarus pit.

Jason quickly realizes that, well, they’re kinda obsessed with their cult of the Great One. And yeah the cult of the ruling Ghost King was very popular during the reign of the Pariah Dark but back then the rituals were carried out more out of fear. Now things are different. The population of the Ghost Zone has become interested in the activities of Frostbite and his loyal spirits because of an attempt to understand what kind of ghost the new ruler is and how best to thank and appease him. So Jason had no shortage of stories about the teenager's deeds.

~~~~

Jason to Frostbite: Well, you guys and your lil hobby are nice but I don't understand at all what's so cool about this guy, even if he defeated Pariah Dark and gets along with most of the Ancients…

Danny: *comes to visit Frostbite*, *slips and falls three times, sets the kitchen on fire in an attempt to make coffee then sheepishly smiles at Jason*.

Jason to Frostbite: ... Okay, Understandable, I Hope Danny Has a Nice Day and Some Sleep.

Tucker: Congratulations, you've acquired another Paulina. Great job. Danny: I'd rather he just asked me out instead of worshipping me. What the hell? I'm just a semi-ghost.

Tucker: Maybe things would be easier if you just gave him your phone number, you know? Danny: But he didn't ask. Tucker: Why didn't you ask? Danny: I couldn't! He's Robin himself, you know? Tucker: Well, good luck to you idiots to grow old alone near the altars of each other's name. Danny: Actually lil altar in his honor is not such a bad idea. Maybe this way he'll understand that I like him too.. Tucker: Danny, no!

~~~~

New in Gotham robbers break into Jason's place: Hey, father, God ordered you to share with your neighbors, so bring us some money or we.. Jason, who is talking on the phone with Danny: In fact, he just said that if you don't get out of here now, he will turn a blind eye to the fact that I will use my guns.

Danny*screams internally*: Oh Ancients, he's sooo cool!

Pandora: Honey, we're happy for you but stop flooding us with spam. You have already told 5 times during prayer how good his abs and chest look and how perfect Todd is when he reads aloud. We get it, okay? Clockwork: Well, I actually enjoy it. It's so much more interesting to watch while listening to the internal dialogue. Show must go on~ Danny: ...Get out of my mind! Nocturn: Thou shalt not take the name of the Lords in vain if you don't want to share with us, lil blob. So rude.

~~~Team Song: You Are My Religion · Firehouse~~~~

[ready-to-read7]

The Ice Prince

(I am not the best writer But I’m doing my best)

the nuke that the GIW had created, was devastating and catastrophic, destroying Danny’s entire home universe with only a few survivors and unfortunately none of them were human only the halfas had survived.

And the blast had even reached the infinite realm, but the ghost King Phantom/Danny had used his own power to stop  it from causing any devastation to the realms but in return he was weaken and badly injured, every ghost was terrified of what would happen to the king but clockwork had a solution, he used his powers to de-age Danny down to maybe a month old so that his body would have enough power to keep him alive in a  smaller form. Every ghost was terrified for the safety and well-being of  their king especially considering he was not fully ghost so they knew he couldn’t stay in the ghost zone for long especially now, so while clockwork and the  yetis was looking for a dimension for Danny to stay in Vlad, Dan and Dani as his only remaining family were making preparations for his new living circumstances, preparing caretakers creating a layout for his new home and even picking out and having toys and clothing created.

 Clockwork in the end with the help of the yetis end up successfully finding a dimension that will both meet Danny’s ghost needs and human needs perfectly and with the designs provided by Danny’s family, they started creating a beautiful ice castle for him, and once it was finished it was transported to the dimension in the Arctic.

_________________________________________________

Meanwhile at the watchtower the alarm started going off alerting the justice league on a unknown entity/entities in the Arctic near the fortress of solitude, alarmed supermen wants to immediately go to the Arctic but Batman refuses him to go alone offering to go with him.

Once they reached the fortress of solitude, they do not notice anything out of the ordinary, but as they search, they find a small Castle not too far away in the crevice of a cave, Superman at first tried to use his x-ray vision to see you what or who was inside but something was preventing him from doing that so both determined to figure out if the beings inside are a threat they enter the castle.

As they explore Batman and Superman come across many different rooms, first they find a kitchen, then they find the storage room, a living room, and a few more before they hear footsteps, they decided to hide in the closet nearby and what they see is a bunch of living ice statues walking past them with trays blankets and many other things, they decide to go in the direction opposite to that of the living ice statues.

They eventually come across a large room with two green-skinned humanoid creatures with dragon-like features inside, the two creatures were looking down at something that neither Superman and Batman could see what it was, after a few minutes, one of the Dragon like creatures turned off the lights and unfolded there large wings, gave a few flaps and flew out alongside their companion out of a large window.

Once Batman and Superman were sure the Dragon like creatures were gone, they entered the room, and, Batman would be looking around while Superman would look for the light switch, and once he did what they found was confusing, the largest room in this building was a nursery with a  crib in the middle with a space theme mobile above it, and they both would be confused why the largest room in this building was a nursery, they would then approached the crib to find a baby more shockingly a human baby by its appearance,   Black hair with the faintest of freckles across his face accompanied by his light skin that could mistake him as dead, wrapped in the finest silk blanket they have ever seen  while wearing some sort of Greek clothing.

Batman terrified that the child might be dead turns to Superman to silently ask whether the child has a heartbeat or not. Superman would take a moment to listen and would then inform Batman that the child does have a heartbeat and unnaturally slow one but a heartbeat, nonetheless.

While Batman’s trying to figure out what the situation is, Superman is fearing that the child was kidnapped, he would pick up the baby wanting to take him back to the watchtower to have a proper checkup done on the child, when Superman told Batman that he wants to take  the baby back to the watchtower for a proper checkup Batman would counter saying that the  Dragon like creatures are probably his parents, before Superman can protest they hear the Dragon like creatures returning, and in panic they both flee and Superman not realizing that he still has the baby in his arms carries the baby away from the castle.

Somehow neither Batman or Superman realized that Superman had the baby until they reached the JL base, and once they do realize Batman start scolding Superman for stealing a child especially from a species that they aren’t fully aware of or know anything about. Superman counters that the child had no features from either of the possible parents and could be an infant that the two Dragon-like people stole from Earth so that they could playhouse.

While the entire Justice league is split on siding with either Superman or Batman who are both giving valid reasons for why their point of view is correct, the Green Lanterns are trying to find the origin of the Dragon-like people or more specifically where they are from.

As they argued the volume continued to increase eventually resulting in the child waking up still cradled in Superman’s arms. The most beautiful pair of blue eyes like ice shards reflecting the beauty of the sky looked up at them and as the infant yawned it gave a cute grumpy little face indicating that he was upset that they interrupted his nap time.

Once everyone noticed the baby was awake, they started cooing and absolutely adoring the baby and the flash that was literally vibrating from excitement would run up to the baby so he can hold the infant, but the moment Danny spotted the slightest amount of electricity coming from the flash he immediately started crying and wailing.

The cry was loud, not loud enough to destroy the JL base but loud enough that anyone with enhance hearing had to cover their ears to try and avoid going def, Batman then immediately grabs the child from Superman and thanks to his years of experience with helping calm down small children and infants he calms the baby down, which is a relief to everyone.

After Batman managed to calm down the baby until he was only slightly whimpering, a very pale and panic Constantine,Dr. fate and  zattana burst into the room, as they entered they started searching and scouring each nook and cranny of the room until their eyes landed on the whimpering child still in batman’s arms, Constantine immediately goes even paler something no one knew could happen and in his frazzled state he would scream demanding to know why there was a child of the infinite realms in batman’s arms. but nobody knows what the infinite realms are so while Constantine was drowning in his own panic, Dr. fate and zattana would explain to everyone what the infinite realms are, and Batman would explain the situation back telling them how Superman had taken the baby from an ice castle near the fortress of solitude.

Superman realizing his mistake offers to take the child back immediately but before he could the alarms at the base started to go off again, cyborg who was the closest immediately started typing across the computer in order to see if there was any world ending threat but what they see made all the magic users take a double take on what they were seeing.

A man with a blue skin tone whose hair is unbound by gravity and behaves like fire and blood red eyes alongside two more people, one of them who looks like a vampire who also has a bluish skin tone and the other one looks like a female version of the first one but younger and also with green eyes and a more humanoid skin tone.

Zattana would then stutter out loud and ask herself why on earth King Phantom is destroying government facilities alongside the Count Masters as well as Princess Spector, of the Infinite Realms. she would also ask herself why they were specifically targeting government facilities.

But then a giggle along with some clapping of tiny hands would catch their attention as they turn around to see the baby still in Batman’s hands happily giggling and clapping their hands as they started grabbing out towards the screen specifically towards the three people on the screen.

Constantine would look at the screen and then at the child  and he would see similarities between King Phantom and the child, the dots will then connect in his head and he would start having a strata panic attack and before anyone could realize what was going on Constantine would scream at Superman telling him that he just kidnapped the son of the king of the infinite realms.

________________________________________________

Dan, Vlad and Dani were all frantically searching for Danny since he randomly disappeared from the ice castle and due to past experiences, all three of them thought it was some form of government who took him so they immediately start destroying every government facility they could find so that they could find Danny.

They had gotten through 15 government facilities with no luck of finding Danny, until they were approached by three weirdly dressed individuals who addressed dan as King Phantom Dan was obviously confused at first and so was Vlad and Dani but Dan eventually realize that they probably think that he is Danny because of their similarities and the fact that no one knows that Danny is now in infant, Dan thinking that it would be funny decided to play along and he used his core to communicate with Vlad and Dani.

Funny, play along, funny, help find Danny,

Dan would then float over to the three weirdly dressed individuals and ask them what they want because he’s kind of busy,

The very strong looking woman would bow down to him and ask him if he is looking for his child.

Dan then applies himself properly telling them that he is indeed looking for his child and if they try and stop him, he won’t hold back.

The strong looking woman then introduces herself as Diana/wonder woman and reassures Dan that they are not here to stand in his way, she instead tells him that she actually knows where his child is.

Dan raises an eyebrow, and addresses wonder woman telling her to describe the child, so he makes sure that they are talking about the right kid.

Wonder woman would then talk describing Danny, black hair, blue eyes, pale skin with freckles and she would even mention the unbelievable loud cry that left many members of the JL disorientated.

Dan realizing that they actually have Danny and would ask her who they are and why they have Danny, wonder woman seeing the rage billed in his eyes would invite him back to the watchtower so he could retrieve his child and that they can explain the situation to him, dan agrees.

As they were going up to the watchtower dan, Vlad and Dani would speak in ghost dialect to each other.

Dan: so, these people think I am phantom, and I think we should keep up the act because it’s safer for Danny if they believe I am him and that he is my son.

Dani: that makes sense but what am I then?

Dan: while we don’t have to change the fact that you are his sister so just continue just pretend to be his older sister.

Dani: ok :D

Vlad: what about me?

Dan: I don’t know old man pretend to be his grandfather.

Vlad: ok :/

once they reached the main room of the watchtower, Dani immediately zooms into the room right in front of batman politely asking him if she can have her little brother, batman who had gotten Danny to fall asleep again would then give the baby to her.

 She would then float over to Dan and gives Danny to him, Dan and Vlad then look over Danny to make sure he has no injuries and then Dan would address the group asking them what happened and why his son was here, Batman would then explained that they got an alert about something near the fortress of solitude and that alert would be the castle where they found the baby and Superman thought it was a human child that was stolen so he ended up accidentally kidnapping the baby.

Dan would have given Danny to Vlad as he uses  his fingers to rub his nose in annoyance before giving a sigh of relief thanking the ancients that it wasn’t some government facility that kidnapped him wanting to experiment on him, the justice league especially the magic users would get very concerned by the comment and dani realizing that they might be confused, would explain that in another world a government facility had labelled all beings from the infinite realms as not sentient  and started kidnapping and experimenting on them, but that universe no longer existed mainly due to the idiotic actions of the government facility blowing up their own universe.

Dan would then turn to Vlad and tell him that they’re going to need to move the castle and maybe add a bit more security, Superman would then speak up saying that they could keep the castle where it is and they will make sure no one will go near it without authorization.

Dan would look at Superman and nod his head, but would still remarking to Vlad that they still need to increase the security since no one should be able to get near his little sunshine (he holds back the need to throw up after saying that), batman  would look at Dan wanting to ask questions but even he knew now was not the best time also he could feel someone staring daggers into the back of his neck something that didn’t bother him nor cared about but he didn’t want to give Constantine a heart attack not yet at least.

Dan would then open a portal directly to the ice castle and would give his farewells to the Justice league as he went through Vlad with Danny in his arms following close behind and dani  just after them and once the portal closed all the magic users in the room gave a sigh of relief along with a few of the other heroes who based on Constantine’s reaction understood the severity of the situation

And in the meantime, Dan, Vlad and Dani would be settling Danny back in his room and would be arranging more security and more caretakers since they do not want another situation like this.

@unadulteratedsoulsweets

(If there are any grammatical errors or spelling mistakes or anything like that just ignore them I'm not going back to fix them)

Original prompt here 

[moonlitwitchdaisy]

You Should Have Run Away

✰ summary: once upon a time, in the bustling streets of shibuya, there lived a beautiful mafia princess who had angered her brother greatly. no matter what she did, she couldn’t shake off her brother’s overprotective grip. frustrated and seeking revenge, the princess decided to venture into the forbidden territory of shinjuku. when the princess stepped into the lair of the evil king, it was impossible for her not to catch his attention. to her, using her brother’s greatest enemy as a tool for revenge seemed like a brilliant idea. but once the beast wanted something, it became his. in the end, the beast would make sure the princess paid the price for daring to enter forbidden territory.

✰ pairing: rival mafia boss!sukuna x mafia princess fem!reader

✰ warnings: +18 Minors Do Not Interact +18 mafia au, mentioning of beating, mentioning of sex, gojo as a protective brother, use of mature language, use of alcohol, eventual smut, neck kissing and sucking, sukuna calls reader “miss gojo” and “brat”, oral sex (reader receiving), fingering, sukuna has a definitely heels fetish, little teasing, big dick alert!!!!!, unprotected sex, possesive behaviours, creampie, sukuna hates gojo lol

✰ word count: 5.4k

✰ a little note: while i’ve started reading mafia romance books again, it wouldn’t feel right not to write something like this. enjoy!

“This was your last chance, and you used it, princess,” your brother yelled at you furiously.

“Fuck off, Toru! Just because I slept with someone doesn’t mean you can beat him half to death and then force him to grovel at my feet to apologize,” you snapped back, your tone far angrier than his.

Your brother’s increasingly overprotective behavior was becoming unbearable. Fine, maybe he was about to take over an important clan, and sure, given the dirty work he handled, he knew how manipulative and dangerous people could be.

Satoru Gojo wasn’t a bad person—at least not when it came to his family. But if someone disrespected the clan? No one wanted to see his bad side. And if they wanted something even worse than that, all they had to do was mess with you.

“Go to your room, princess. I don’t even want to see you step outside for the next two weeks. If you need something, tell Yuji to get it for you. But you’re not setting foot out of this house. Understood?”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Don’t test me, princess. You know the rules—anyone who dares to touch you faces a fate worse than death.” His eyes were bloodshot. He must not have slept all night, and finding out about your little escapade had probably wiped any chance of sleep from his mind.

Screw this. Enough was enough. You were perfectly capable of seeing whoever you wanted. If someone tried to use you, you’d know. After all, the whole “Six Eyes” thing, which basically meant knowing and seeing everything, wasn’t exclusive to your brother. But still, the bastard refused to believe you could protect yourself.

“How long are you planning to keep protecting me, Gojo Satoru? Until I’m dead? I’ll be with whoever I want—” Your words cut off as your brother shot you a deadly glare. You usually chose to fight back in situations like this, but Satoru, with his anger and lack of sleep, might very well set the house on fire.

“Go to your room. Now.” He didn’t shout, but the tone of his voice made it clear you shouldn’t push him any further.

“Fuck you, Gojo Satoru.” With that, you turned toward the stairs and headed to your room.

Slamming the door shut behind you, you began pacing back and forth, your anger boiling over. Did he really think you wouldn’t leave the house? You weren’t his precious little princess. And he wasn’t even officially the head of the clan yet. Sure, he ran most of the operations since your father had grown old, but the final word still belonged to your father.

Your pacing came to a halt when your phone buzzed with incoming messages.

𓉘22:32𓉝 Nobara: holy shit i just saw your message so your brother found out huh?

𓉘22:32𓉝 Nobara: honestly the only thing i can say about that guy is that satoru gojo’s gonna kill him

𓉘22:33𓉝 Nobara: if not he’ll probably do something worse

Nobara was right. Unfortunately, your brother had already made the guy wish he were dead.

𓉘22:33𓉝 You: i wish he’d just killed him

𓉘22:33𓉝 You: oh and guess what? i’m grounded for two weeks can’t leave the house

𓉘22:33𓉝 Nobara: if I know you there’s no way you’re staying put

𓉘22:33𓉝 Nobara: wanna do something fun?

You? Of course, you wanted to. Especially right now.

𓉘22:34𓉝 You: what's on your mind?

𓉘22:34𓉝 Nobara: there’s a party in shinjuku

𓉘22:34𓉝 Nobara: you know where

Shit. Unfortunately you knew. Everyone knew about Malevolent Shrine. And everyone knew what went down at the parties there. That club was pure chaos—exclusive and dripping with danger. Just like its owner.

Shinjuku was off-limits for you. Actually, it was off-limits for anyone from your clan. That wasn’t your territory. Worse, the owner, Ryomen Sukuna, was your family’s sworn enemy. His empire ruled Shinjuku, and he was the Evil King.

Sukuna was the kind of man no one should mess with. Especially not you.

You could never go there. For one, you’d die—not by your brother’s hands but Sukuna’s. The moment you stepped foot in Shinjuku, his men would put a bullet in your head. And if you somehow made it to the club, the security would handle the rest.

𓉘22:35𓉝 You: you know i can’t go there

𓉘22:35𓉝 Nobara: chicken

𓉘22:35𓉝 Nobara: name a better way to get back at your brother?

𓉘22:36𓉝 You: girl are you insane? the second i step foot there i’m dead meat

𓉘22:36𓉝 Nobara: chicken

𓉘22:36𓉝 You: stop calling me that

𓉘22:36𓉝 Nobara: i’m not stopping until you say yes

𓉘22:36𓉝 Nobara: chicken chicken chicken

This girl was crazy. Watching the string of “chicken” messages fill your screen, you considered her plan. You were furious with your brother. You didn’t want him to protect you forever. You were a grown woman who had every right to be with whoever you wanted. No one could dare talk about a woman’s “honor” like it was their business.

You were so sick of men.

The messages on your screen had already hit 20. Were you really going to stay home like a scared little chicken? Or were you going to be the mafia princess who didn’t care about the danger?

Screw it. There wasn’t a single drop of cowardice in Gojo blood.

𓉘22:38𓉝 Nobara: chicken

𓉘22:38𓉝 Nobara: fuck my fingers are cramping but i'm not stopping

𓉘22:38𓉝 Nobara: chicken

𓉘22:38𓉝 You: i’ll be at your place in thirty

𓉘22:39𓉝 You: my brother’s probably too busy at our club blowing off steam and fucking someone to notice

𓉘22:39𓉝 You: also yuuji owes me a favor

𓉘22:39𓉝 You: but yuuji can’t drive us there you know they’d recognize the car

𓉘22:39𓉝 Nobara: i knew you weren’t a chicken 😘

𓉘22:39𓉝 Nobara: wear that gold dress

𓉘22:39𓉝 Nobara: we’re stealing all the attention tonight 💃

Shutting off your phone, you walked to your closet and pulled out the gold mini-dress you’d just bought from Rabanne. As you held it up, a sly smile spread across your face.

There was no way you wouldn’t get noticed in this.

“I hate you, you know that, right?” Yuuji said, glancing at you through the rearview mirror as he drove.

“You owed me.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t, but this wasn’t what I had in mind.” In a high-pitched, comical voice, he added, “I didn’t know my debt was death!”

When you hurriedly got ready and came downstairs, as expected, your brother wasn’t home. Yuuji was sitting on the couch, playing on his phone. When he heard the sound of your heels clicking, he turned his head toward you, and the look on his face wasn’t a good sign. The sight of you in 10 cm heels and a sparkling gold dress could only mean trouble.

As you checked your lipstick in a small mirror, you said, “Don’t worry. My brother will drink himself into oblivion and fuck someone senseless tonight. It’s the perfect time to teach him a lesson.”

“Even if you threatened to tattle to Papa Gojo, I still shouldn’t be doing this. But damn it, your dad is even scarier.”

Your brother could definitely be terrifying, but the person who made him that way was your father. If what you wanted wasn’t done, your father wouldn’t hesitate to put bullets through anyone.

Of course, if your father knew you were heading to enemy territory in Shinjuku right now, things would turn out very differently.

Ten minutes later, when Yuuji stopped in front of Nobara’s house, you planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “Nobara said she called an Uber. That must be the car in front. Thanks for the ride.”

Just as you were about to step out, Yuuji grabbed your arm. When you turned to look at him, you saw the worry etched on his face. “This clears my debt. If anyone asks you, I didn’t bring you here, okay? Also…” He took a deep breath. “If anything happens, you call me. Immediately.”

“You’ve got it.” You smiled to ease his concern and stepped out of the car. As soon as you approached the idling car with its lights on, you peered through the window to see Nobara. The moment you spotted her, you opened the door and got in.

“God, it’s freezing out there.”

“Hey, gorgeous. Holy shit, that dress is incredible.” Nobara whistled, giving you an approving once-over.

“We have to make this night worth it, don’t we?” you said, a sly grin spreading across your face. Both of you laughed, and during the drive to the club, you recounted every infuriating thing your brother had done lately.

When the Uber driver announced you’d arrived, you looked at the black building bathed in red lights. If you were to paint a picture of hell, this would probably be it.

You were officially in forbidden territory. Maybe threatening Yuuji by dangling your father over his head hadn’t been the best idea. Going back home and curling up in your warm bed suddenly seemed a lot more appealing. But Gojo Satoru had asked for this, and as his little sister, you were going to push it further.

The guards at the entrance immediately shot you suspicious looks, their brows furrowed as if asking, What the hell are you doing here? It must have surprised them to see anyone from the Gojo clan walk into this place so boldly.

“Good evening, gentlemen. I hope there’s room for two lovely ladies tonight?” With a sweet tone and an even sweeter smile, you asked the towering guards as if everything was perfectly normal.

“Go home,” one of the guards said, his stern expression unchanging.

“But who stays home on a Friday night, right, Nobara?” Your friend chuckled in agreement.

“If you don’t want the boss to blow your head off, go back where you came from.” The guard’s tone suggested he knew exactly how this would end.

You weren’t leaving. Whatever lie you had to tell to get inside, you’d say it.

“I hate to break it to you, buddy, but your famous boss invited us here tonight.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The guard on the left stepped toward you angrily, but the other stopped him with an arm and turned to you. “The boss invited you?”

“Yep. Apparently, there’s at least one Gojo he doesn’t hate.” You had no idea what you were saying, but you rolled with it.

The guard stared at you and Nobara for a moment before finally stepping aside. “Tell the bartender inside you’re special guests. They’ll direct you where to go. Enjoy your evening, Miss Gojo.”

Well, that lie had actually worked.

“Thank you, sir.” Hooking your arm through Nobara’s, you hurried inside. The moment you stepped into the club, you realized it was even more hellish than it looked from the outside.

First, it was boiling hot—a relief, given how freezing it had been outside. Second, the place was all black and red. No matter where you looked, there wasn’t a hint of any other color. When you told the bartender what the guard had said, they led you to a quiet lounge upstairs. While the club itself was luxurious, this space was something else entirely. There weren’t many people—just a few men you assumed were businessmen, an actor you’d seen in an action movie, and two women hanging off his arms.

As you sank into the plush leather seats, Nobara turned to you. “I think this place lives up to the hype.”

Leaning back, you replied, “Seems like it. So, where are these infamous sex parties?”

Nobara laughed. “Probably in some hidden area. You know, like in the movies where you go through a secret passage.”

That was likely true. Based on what you’d heard about Sukuna, the man probably designed this place like a maze.

When the waiter arrived with a bottle of champagne and two glasses, he said, “A gift from the boss, Miss Gojo.”

Sukuna knew. Not that you hadn’t expected this. The guards must have informed him the second you walked in. Honestly, you’d assumed they’d tell him when you’d first started lying.

“Please send our thanks to the boss,” you said with a bright smile, taking the glasses the waiter had filled. You handed one to Nobara, and the two of you clinked your glasses before sipping the expensive, delicious champagne.

“Why don’t we finish this and hit the dance floor?” you suggested, the mix of alcohol, music, and the lingering fear of Sukuna making your adrenaline spike.

Nobara grinned, clinking her glass against yours again before downing the rest of her champagne. Then she poured herself another glass.

If you had to guess, the two of you would finish the entire bottle within fifteen minutes.

I guess you were wrong with your predictions because you and Nobara finished that bottle in just ten minutes. You had no idea how you managed it so fast, but you drank it like it was water while talking. Anytime you were with Nobara, there wasn’t a single moment that wasn’t fun. She was one of those people who made time fly without you realizing it.

With the rhythm of the song pulsing through you, you ground your hips against the man behind you, feeling the hardness growing against your back. You weren’t drunk—sure, you’d downed that massive bottle in ten minutes, but it was just champagne. You’d had far heavier nights, and your tolerance was nothing to scoff at.

“You know how to dance,” the man murmured, his lips brushing against your earlobe.

“It’s what I’m best at,” you replied, your tone just as flirtatious.

“I’m sure there’s something you’re even better at,” he whispered, and his hands slowly slid lower, brushing against your hips. You smiled, even though he couldn’t see it.

“Maybe,” you teased.

The truth was, you had no intention of sleeping with this guy. Sure, it would’ve been a great way to stir up even more trouble, but your focus wasn’t on him. It was on the crimson-eyed devil who hadn’t taken his eyes off you from the upper floor.

From the moment you stepped onto the dance floor with Nobara, you felt someone watching you. A few minutes later, when your gaze drifted upward, it wasn’t hard to figure out who it was. Sukuna, leaning casually against the railing with a glass of whiskey in hand, was watching your every move.

Every sway of your hips, every time you brushed your damp hair back, every teasing grind against the men who approached you—he didn’t miss a single second of it.

You wanted to create a scene, but only for him.

There was no denying his handsomeness. Even though you’d never seen him in person before tonight, it was clear he was mesmerizing, even from a distance. As you danced, you realized why your brother had kept you far away from him all these years. If you had ever seen this man before, you, like everyone else, would’ve wanted him to ruin you. Even knowing the danger he posed.

He might just be the only bad boy you’d ever want to destroy you. But calling Sukuna a “boy” was an insult. Ryomen Sukuna was a “man” in every sense of the word.

When your partner’s hands drifted lower, you pressed them down, urging him to squeeze your hips. He didn’t hesitate, gripping you firmly. His lips found your neck, and he sucked hard, marking you. You tilted your head back, letting out a soft moan, all while keeping your gaze locked on Sukuna.

You weren’t sure what you wanted him to see. Maybe it was something like, “Look at me, I’m here, the one person who absolutely shouldn’t be in your territory. And I’m letting someone else touch me in your club,” as if you wanted to make yourself stand out.

It was a childish move. Trying to make someone like Sukuna jealous was a fool’s errand.

But those crimson eyes followed your every motion. You were certain. Even as he took a sip from his glass, he raised it slightly in your direction, as if to say, Enjoy yourself.

You laughed, throwing your head back.

“Like what you see, baby? I can give you more if you want,” the man murmured against your neck.

You barely heard him. Sukuna had disappeared into a black-tinted, private room upstairs, and your focus was entirely on him.

You pushed the man’s hands away and stepped back. Without even looking at him, you said, “See you around,” and made your way toward the room Sukuna had entered.

When you reached the third floor, two guards stood in front of the door. You expected them to stop you, but instead, they said, “Welcome, Miss Gojo,” and stepped aside.

Even in your own territory, you weren’t treated with this level of respect.

Offering a polite “thank you,” you opened the black glass door without hesitation. The room, unsurprisingly, was black. Oddly, there were no hints of red here. Sukuna stood behind his desk, speaking on the phone. Though you couldn’t catch the full conversation, it was something about a delivery. He didn’t turn around, not even to see who had entered.

It was as if he had been expecting you all along.

“Call me when you cross the border tomorrow. If there’s a problem, consider yourself dead, understand?” He ended the call but still didn’t face you. The sound of keys clicking echoed in the room as he typed out a message, his attention still fixed on the screen.

“Well, what a lovely surprise, Miss Gojo.” Finally, he put the phone down and turned to you. His tone was calm, almost warm.

You were still standing by the door, unsure of your next move.

“Looks like the boy on the dance floor didn’t keep you entertained,” he said, clicking his tongue. “Pity. He probably thought he had your full attention, but Little Miss Gojo didn’t care for him at all, did she?”

Finally finding the energy to move, you walked over to the couch in front of his desk. “I don’t like overly grabby men,” you said, sinking into the seat.

“Well, that’s his loss,” Sukuna replied as he sat in his own chair. “I take it the clubs your brother owns don’t amuse you anymore, so you decided to try out Shinjuku’s nightlife instead?”

“Oh, absolutely. Our clubs are, how should I put it… dull. And my brother, as you know, Mr. Sukuna, is a complete buzzkill.”

Sukuna laughed, a genuine, deep laugh. “Gojo Satoru has no idea how to have fun. I’m glad you chose to come here.”

“Thank you. Even as an uninvited guest, you’ve treated my friend and me so well. But seriously, why are your guards so polite? I’ve never been called ‘Miss Gojo’ so many times in my life.” As you crossed one leg over the other, Sukuna’s eyes followed the movement. He watched, unblinking, even after you’d finished.

“My men know how to address people properly, Miss Gojo. And no one would dare speak disrespectfully to you.”

That was… unexpected.

“Why?” you asked, letting your top leg sway slightly as you spoke.

“No one disrespects my special guests, Miss Gojo. If they do, I’ll have to cut their tongues out. And I doubt anyone wants that.”

Ryomen Sukuna would absolutely do it. You were sure of that—and you doubted it would stop at just the tongue.

“You look like a runaway sun,” Sukuna said, leaning back in his chair, eyes never leaving you.

The sudden compliment made you laugh. “Was that supposed to be a compliment?” you managed to say between chuckles.

He smirked. “It was. Being something so hot that it melts everything in its path isn’t easy. Not everyone dares to touch.” Sukuna leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “This is where you wanted to be, isn’t it? Rather than getting more riled up by some amateur boy, you came here to play with the greatest danger in the room. You think you can burn me.”

“You said it yourself—I’m the sun. That means I can burn you.”

Sukuna rose from his chair and walked toward you. He leaned over the armrests of your couch, caging you in. You leaned back, but the space between you was negligible.

“Miss Gojo, if there’s anything hotter than the sun, it’s hell. Don’t forget that.”

You didn’t care. You could burn in hell. All you wanted was a touch.

One of Sukuna’s hands trailed up the inside of your thigh, brushing the fabric of your gold dress. “What a beautiful dress. Shame it’s so short—it leaves a lot to the imagination.”

You struggled to keep your thighs from pressing together at his touch. Despite your best efforts, you couldn’t stop the subtle trembling of your legs as his fingers traced slow, deliberate patterns against your skin. The soft yet firm caress made resisting impossible.

“Gojo Satoru did well to keep you away from me. But you’re too much of a brat to listen, aren’t you? That’s why you’re here, in my territory.” His hand stopped moving, and this time he squeezed the inside of your thigh, firm enough to send a jolt through you, but not painful—just enough to make you crave more.

“Yes…” Your voice came out as little more than a moan.

“Know this, Miss Gojo: if I’m entertaining you as my special guest, I’ll expect a favor in return.” His hand kneaded your thigh, coaxing another soft sound from your lips.

“W-what kind of favor?”

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?”

Yes. Yes, you did. You’d wanted it from the moment your eyes met.

“I-I—”

“You wanted it to be me instead of that boy, didn’t you?” He leaned closer, his face hovering near your neck. He didn’t touch, but his eyes lingered on the mark left by the other man. “Should I track him down and kill him? It’s my job to keep my special guest satisfied.”

“Oh…”

“Use your words, Miss Gojo.” The way he called you Miss Gojo made your head spin.

“Yes. I wanted him to be you, Sukuna. I wanted the Evil King to claim me in his territory.”

Though you couldn’t see his face, you heard the low growl rumble from his chest at your words. Before you could say anything more, he easily lifted you with one arm, carrying you to his desk like you weighed nothing at all.

Before you could brace yourself, Sukuna swept everything off the desk with one hand, the clutter crashing to the floor as he pinned you down. The hard surface met your back, and the look in his eyes told you all you needed to know—he had transformed into a ravenous beast, his gaze hungry, predatory.

Your dress was shoved up almost to your waist, and, unsurprisingly, the panties you’d forgotten to wear were nowhere in sight. Your dripping, needy core was now fully exposed to Sukuna’s greedy attention.

When his gaze dropped to your slick heat, his eyes fluttered shut briefly, as if fighting to maintain control.

“I wish I could see how Gojo Satoru loses his mind when he hears about this,” Sukuna muttered, dragging your body closer to the edge of the desk. He yanked your gold dress the rest of the way up, spreading your legs wide to get a clearer view of the spot he clearly intended to devour.

“Fuck…” he murmured, his left hand gripping the inside of your right thigh while his right hand traced over your wet folds. He moved achingly slow, teasing, as though savoring every drop of slickness that coated his fingers. His touch was deliberate, exploring the sensitive walls of your entrance, his movements maddeningly unhurried.

But as much as the teasing ignited your body, you wanted—no, needed—more.

“Sukuna…” Your voice was barely a whisper, trembling with need.

“What is it? You want more?”

You swallowed hard and nodded, unable to find the strength to speak. His fingers moved with such infuriating precision that you were losing yourself.

“If I give you more, there’s no going back. You won’t be able to escape. Are you sure?”

You should’ve run. You should’ve left and never come back. But here you were, in enemy territory, no longer thinking about revenge on your brother. All you could think about was your own desperate need.

“I don’t want to run,” you managed, biting back a moan.

“Fuck,” Sukuna growled under his breath. Taking your response as permission, he leaned in, his mouth claiming the place that needed him most. His large hands spread your legs even wider, giving him complete access as his tongue began its sinful work.

“Su-Sukuna—ohhh,” you whimpered as his head moved between your thighs. His tongue licked you from your folds to your clit, his pace changing between slow, teasing drags and targeted, rapid flicks. Occasionally, he focused on a single spot, making you cry out, his masculine groans vibrating against you as he continued.

You couldn’t describe it. You weren’t someone who slept with men often, but none of them—not a single one—had ever worshiped you like this. The man who should’ve been the last person to ever touch you was devouring you like you were his last meal.

“The forbidden things are always the most delicious,” Sukuna murmured, pressing a wet kiss to your swollen lips. Just before plunging his tongue inside you, he added, “You taste incredible.”

“Oh, God… Sukuna…” you moaned. His tongue worked inside you with practiced precision, each movement sending fresh waves of slickness to coat him.

“Your walls want to keep my tongue inside. I can feel it,” he growled, his voice low and thick with desire. “Fuck, you’re so tight. How’s my cock supposed to fit in here?” His right hand left a sharp smack on your inner thigh before he returned to licking you, unrelenting.

Then he added his fingers. Without warning, two thick digits plunged inside you, curling as his mouth latched onto your clit. The wet, obscene noises his hand created only added to the intensity.

“You made a big mistake making me kneel for you, little brat.” He sucked your clit into his mouth, drawing a desperate, shaky cry from your lips.

“H-how?” you stammered.

“It means you’re never getting away from me,” he said, his fingers moving faster, hitting the perfect spot inside you. The heat between your legs became unbearable, and you knew you were close.

“You’re so filthy. Look what you’re doing to my fingers,” he teased, driving them deeper. “When I pull them out, I swear they’ll be wrinkled from your juices.” His lips returned to your clit, sucking hard while his fingers pumped relentlessly.

“D-don’t stop… I’m so close—UGH I’M GONNA CUM S-SUKUNA!” The tension in your body coiled tighter, seconds from snapping.

“Fuck no,” he growled, suddenly pulling his fingers and mouth away. Just as your release hovered on the edge, Sukuna stood and unzipped his black slacks, pulling them down along with his boxers.

Your breath caught. There was no way that was real. The massive, throbbing cock he held in his hand couldn’t possibly be human.

“Are you ready for my cock, Miss Gojo?” His voice was a low, primal growl.

You weren’t. Not even close. You had no idea how it would fit.

He brought his cock closer to your entrance, teasing you by sliding the tip along your soaked entrance . He let out a moan as the wet heat of your pussy coated him. You could feel the precum leaking from his tip mixing with your own arousal.

“This—this is torture. Please…” You were barely coherent, but you couldn’t take the teasing anymore. You needed him.

“What? Say what you want, Miss Gojo,” Sukuna taunted, his cock brushing lightly against you.

“I-I want you. I want your cock inside me,” you begged, your words tumbling out in desperation.

Sukuna chuckled darkly. “You can’t even form a proper sentence. All you can think about is my cock, isn’t that right?”

“Y-yes,” you stammered, your voice trembling.

“Then take it,” he growled before slamming into you in one swift motion.

Your entire body arched off the desk as you cried out. He didn’t ease in, didn’t give you time to adjust. He buried himself to the hilt, filling you completely. Wrapping your legs around his waist, your heels dug into his lower back, earning a low groan from him.

“Every time I thrust into you, I want those heels to dig in. Do you understand me?” His voice was a harsh command.

“Y-yes,” you gasped.

“Good. Seems the only time you behave is when someone’s fucking you.” Sukuna began moving, his hips slamming into yours with unrelenting force.

He was too big, stretching you so wide it felt like he was splitting you open. Every thrust pushed you to your limits, his thick cock hitting places you didn’t know existed.

“Do you hear that, Miss Gojo?” He was referring to the sound of his hips slamming against yours, the wet smacks of his length plunging into you. “That’s real music.”

“You’re—you’re insane, Sukuna. F-fuck, right there—” His tip hit the perfect spot inside you, making your toes curl.

“Here?” he taunted. “Take it all, Miss Gojo. Be a good girl and take everything I give you.” Your legs trembled as your heels dug harder into him, pulling him closer, making his thrusts even deeper.

Provoking a beast like Sukuna was a terrible idea. Yes, he was driving you wild with pleasure, but you knew that after tonight, no one else would ever compare. No one would ever fuck you like this, hitting your G-spot with every thrust, coaxing more of your juices out with every motion.

Sukuna Ryomen was about to become your addiction.

“I should kill Gojo Satoru for keeping me from this for so long—fuck—for keeping you from me,” Sukuna growled, his cock continuing to batter your sweet spot. “I fucking hate that man.”

Even fully clothed, beads of sweat ran down from his abs to your thighs, dampening the space between your bodies. His head tipped back, his hands gripping your legs tightly as if he never wanted to let go.

“Know this, Miss G-Gojo,” he growled, his words rough as your silken walls squeezed tighter around his thick, veined cock. “From this moment on, you’re mine—ughhh.”

"Sukuna—just a little more, please—so close—"

"Say you’re mine," he demanded, leaning closer to pound into you harder. Though his hands released your legs, you still clung to him, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him even closer.

His thrusts grew deeper, each movement dragging along every sensitive spot inside you, making you shiver. With his lips brushing your ear, you whispered, your voice trembling with surrender, “I-I’m yours, Sukuna.”

“Fuck, yes! You’re mine. Get that through your head!” he roared into your neck, burying himself deeper.

“SUKUNA, IT’S TOO DEEP—I’M GONNA CUM!” your screams echoed through the room as your legs spasmed, and the sharp heels of your shoes dug further into his flesh.

“Don’t hold back on me, Miss Gojo,” Sukuna growled as he bit your neck, sending you over the edge into a shattering orgasm.

Your juices dripped onto his black wooden table while his hot seed filled you to the brim. The feeling of his warmth pumping inside you only reignited the arousal coursing through your veins.

Still buried deep within you, Sukuna pressed a soft kiss to the bite mark he’d left. As you worried about how you’d hide it from your brother, Sukuna’s words snapped you back to reality “Tell that idiot brother of yours you’re mine now. And if he behaves, I might even let him step foot in my territory.”

Your eyes widened. “W-wait, this wasn’t just a one-time thing?” No matter how much you had told him you belonged to him, you had only said it under the heat of lust. You had never truly considered that Sukuna might actually want to claim you.

Sukuna raised his head from your neck, his hungry, feral gaze pinning you in place as he braced himself above you. “Sunday. My house. I’ll fuck you against every wall until your marks are all over them.”

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath.

You should’ve stayed home today, listened to your brother. Or, when you stepped into this office, you should’ve run as fast as you could. Anything to avoid this.

But the beast had already claimed you.

all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.

art by @Crain1Art on X

divider by @bernardsbendystraws

[endtiimes]

king tags!

♪ — put all your faults to bed‚ you can be king again. ﹝ .king ﹞ ♪ — and that was when i ruled the world. ﹝ .king / musings ﹞ ♪ — have you ever had a nightmare bigger than everybody? ﹝ .king / aesthetics ﹞ ♪ — now the old king is dead‚ long live the king. ﹝ .king / visage ﹞ ♪ — they turned to dust all that i adored. ﹝ .king / hcs ﹞

♪ — i'm lookin' down below at my kingdom there. ﹝ .king / main ﹞

[thewitchblue]

You've been a hero for years, but you play the same prank on every member of the Batfamily. You have regenerative powers to the extreme that your injuries heal in seconds if you allow it. The first time gets them every time.

You have metal claws and a fury that burns. You shine under stressful situations. You are the key to their success oftentimes. You are a soldier through-and-through with a surprisingly high level of intelligence. You never told them the extent of your experience, but you've shown and proven yourself in combat, so you never had to. So, you started having fun with it.

Dick thought he hit you too hard in the temple with his weapon and panicked when you, taking the opportunity, crumpled to the ground. He's never run so fast. Being the leader, he really didn't want to be charged with murder nor kill one of his greatest fighters.

Tim, poor Tim. He was so exhausted he grew sloppy on a mission. Sloppy enough that you needed to jump in front of a blade for him. Somehow, the blade managed to slip between your ribs and puncture your left lung.

Well, that woke Tim up. He never finished a fight quicker. He speed ran a fight. He was on a timer, and he felt it. You were, seemingly, bleeding out because he stubbornly refused to sleep the night before, and you had to jump in front of a blade for him. He felt guilty and horrified. What does he tell Batman? What does he tell Jason? He'll need to hang up the suit, and he'll never leave the house again. You were the soldier everybody needed. The rock everybody can rely on despite your jagged edges. He knelt beside you. He wanted to check for a pulse, but he knew it was too late. He was fighting the goons for too long. There was no way you survived. Then, he heard your laughter. You laughed in his face, and your eyes opened. You laughed so hard you cried. Tim nearly collapsed on top of you in relief. He won't be killed by Jason or Bruce tonight, and, mostly importantly, you survived. You were a dick about it the entire way back to HQ.

Bruce was frozen in terror. His son's significant other just died on his watch. He was getting flashbacks from the time Jason died. Jason. How was Jason going to forgive him? How was he going to forgive himself? He was the one to suggest you come with him on the mission. He thought it would be easy. A simple mission against Scarecrow. You were the best pick because your system cleared out the fear toxin the fastest out of everyone else. You've seen worse horrors than what the fear toxin could conjure up, so you never falter in the fight. Scarecrow actually feared you because of this. He has yet to find a combination that is strong enough to put you down. Now, Bruce's best soldier was gurgling blood with a slit throat. He's failed you. He let you die. You didn't have a family to mourn you. He didn't know enough about you to properly set up a funeral. How could he let this happen? After everyone was jailed, he let the police take over and ran to your body. Your blood had dried and caked on your neck. He knows a dead body when he sees one, and you are very much dead in his eyes. He sighed heavily as he picked you up, only to almost drop you immediately as you opened your eyes and grinned at him.

"How?"

Was the first question he demanded. He knew your healing factor was very powerful, but to recover from a slit throat seemed like a lot, especially after seeing how much blood you let yourself lose before closing the wound. You playfully punch his shoulder with a grin,

"You know how, old man."

He laughed. Touché. He knows your abilities likely better than you do yourself.

Damian wanted to give you a funeral fit for a king. He liked you the best out of everyone, including Jon. He threw a knife that managed to cut through your skull and lodge into your brain. His panic was immediate but short-lived as you pulled the knife out of your brain and closed to the wound. You scowled because it caused a headache, but you survived quite easily. In that single moment, he considered seriously contacting his grandfather to put you in the Lazarus Pit, but he knew you wouldn't want a second chance at life. He knew you would happily die a warrior's death than live a coward's life. He respected that. Damian nearly cried as he ran to you. He clung to you all day and refused to say why to anybody. You simply returned his hugs and ran your fingers through his hair affectionately. You murmured about forgiving him, and he clung tigher. He knows he doesn't have to guard you on missions, but he's a lot more protective of you outside. Chihuahua privileges.

Barbara watched with horror on the CCTV footage on a local building as you get decapitated. She had flashbacks to her run with the Joker that left her paralysed. The Joker struck again. Instead of taking you hostage, you fought too much. You fought like a whirlwind of adamantium and controlled fury. Joker wouldn't have stood a chance if someone didn't come up behind you and cut your head off. She screamed as your body picked your head up from the ground and put it back on without so much as a wince. Joker ran the second the claws came out.

Cass was petrified. She's seen death before, but your healing factor hadn't seemed to help at all when she found your corpse. You were beaten to death by Bane. She gave an appreciative whistle as she pushes your head to the side to look at the handprints around your neck. He did not go easy on you, that's for sure. She wondered how he didn't die with you. He was skewered like a kebab on your claws, limb limp but claws still out and buried into his heart. She checked and he was still alive. Barely, so you must have been just shy of puncturing the organ. You went down fighting, and that was the best she could have hoped for with you. She went to radio on comms about the news only to be stopped by a clawed hand. She watched in stunned silence as your body heals itself in less than one minute. You sat up and stretched like a cat before removing your claws from Bane. Bane groaned in agony, but you didn't mind him. You merely wiped your claws clean on his shirt with a cheeky smile on your face.

"Well, that was fun. Next time, show up faster, yes?"

Cass could only nod, dumbstruck as you laugh at her expression. Cass knew your healing factor was insane, but you were so clearly dead to her. She never underestimated you again as you told her it was self-control that stopped you from puncturing Bane's heart, not death.

Duke hadn't known fear until he watched Ra's Al Ghul gut you like a fish. Ra's used his fear as a chance to escape, and Duke couldn't find it in himself to chase. He collapsed at your side. It all happened so fast. He had no time to react. No time to stop it.

He screeched when your hands both retracted their claws, and you stuffed your organs casually back inside your body as it healed itself. His eyes were wide as you chuckled at his misery.

"Gotcha. Now, let's get the bastard, yeah?"

Duke could only nod. He was still in shock as you ran your way to catch Ra's. Talia, for what it was worth, gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before sauntering off into the night herself.

Jason was furious, to say the least. Here he was, on his knees over your seemingly dead body only for you to jumpscare him while your body healed.

You cackled like a witch on Halloween as your body heals immediately. You can control your healing factor. To whatever degree you want to. You were never in any danger.

You put the fear of God in many people because of this prank. Jason was fuming.

"Why the fuck would you do that, pipsqueak?!"

His scream echoed in the alleyway you were "murdered" in. You merely laughed. Your claws come out in the moment and you slit your own throat but quickly heal yourself.

"I'm sorry, birdie. You were the last one to do this on."

That was the wrong thing to say because that pissed him off even further,

"THE LAST ONE?! YOU'VE DONE THIS BEFORE?!"

Everyone on the mission watched with amused expressions. It's true. Your prank, admittedly, was mean. Especially to your boyfriend who came back from the grave himself. Fondly, you cup his face with a smile. You said confidently,

"God doesn't have the nuts to kill me, Birdie."

Jason rolled his eyes, scoffing and throwing a tantrum like a toddler. He drops your body. He could never truly be angry with you, but he's pissed you put yourself in the position of needing to be healed in the first place.

"Alright, smartass. I'm not saving your sorry ass next mission. You can do that yourself."

Jason tensed immediately once he hears the snap of your spine breaking, but you weakly laugh and heal it in seconds. Lovingly, you say,

"Bones are harder than organs, asshole."

Now Jason laughs. He was still pissed, but hey. That saves on medical supplies.

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

We don’t appreciate enough how GRRM made House Targaryen the poster children for his de/reconstruction of the fantasy chosen family trope, and we don’t appreciate how Jon and Dany are the main lens through which he does that. House Targaryen is fantasy on steroids—magic swords, magic look, magic lineage, perhaps the most magic pet one could have in the genre, and a magic destiny that’s specific to them and only them. There’s a foretold magical conflict and its main hero (as many would think), “the prince that was promised”, specifically has to be a Targaryen. This House’s history is so rich, but from a genre perspective, it is Aerys II’s reign and Robert’s Rebellion that’s the most interesting to analyze. Aerys isn’t special himself, but he is to sire the future savior of the world. Then Rhaegar is born and tragic as they are, all the signs point to him being the promised messiah. And Rhaegar becomes THE fantasy hero on steroids. He’s the perfect heir to House Targaryen’s legacy because not only is he to be the best of them, and many think he would have been had he lived, but he is the most perfect manifestation of House Targaryen as the personification of fantasy. There’s absolutely a point to him living and dying as the heir, the inheritor, the eternal symbol of what could have been of the Targaryen’s old glory.

Part of Rhaegar’s legacy extends to his son Aegon. Aegon had everything Rhaegar didn’t. A comet was seen at his conception—and this is an most important herald for the chosen one. So he is given a song, “the song of ice and fire”, and a king’s name to match his status as the new messiah. He didn’t live long but he inherited Rhaegar’s look in his youth too; the fantasy protagonist look. But Aegon died before he could be the hero.

You see Jon and Dany as chosen ones only works so well because of their House’s history, especially as (anti)parallels to Rhaegar and Aegon. They are the unexpected inheritors and challengers to their house’s legacy but in different ways.

Dany is the most immediate and obvious heir. There’s a beauty to her being the last of them and thus, the one bearing the entire house’s legacy. Dany is THE Targaryen. And in being that, she becomes THE hero. She’s got the hero’s look, the hero’s magic and destiny, and better yet, she got the hero’s sword and pet all in one. And, she’s legitimate! She is House Targaryen. But there’s a problem….shes a girl. And we all know House Targaryen’s history with girls.

Maester Aemon’s “no one ever looked for a girl” is quickly becoming my favorite Dany-related quote because it pretty much encapsulates her entire arc, especially as an inheritor to her house’s legacy. The hero they died knowing and expecting was the boy: first Rhaegar, then Aegon. But father and son are dead. Yet Daenerys lives. She inherits everything else they did and more! The Targaryens tried and failed to bring dragons back, but it was Dany who ultimately did it.

Now, Jon is Dany but flipped. From a meta point of view, he’s more fantasy protagonist than she is. He’s a boy, he’s got a big magic sword that he can swing about, and he’s perhaps fantasy’s most prolific trope in action—the magical hidden prince. But within this story, GRRM flips these two characters. Jon’s fantasy protag-ness doesn’t go away, it just morphs into something else. Unlike Dany, he may be a boy and he may have a sword, but he lacks literally everything else. He doesn’t have the look, his magic powers are from his other family, so is his magic pet, and his magic destiny has thus far developed outside his immediate association with House Targaryen. Dany is “what if Rhaegar was a girl?”, but we can’t even begin to ask these types of questions with Jon because there’s so much that precludes him from the fantasy hero role in story. He’s Rhaegar’s heir…but he doesn’t look like him…and he’s not even legitimate. So what do we do now?

GRRM destroyed his fantasy protag house and decided to build up again from the ground up, but did so by challenging the two most critical points—primogeniture and exceptionalism. With Dany, he makes a girl the Targaryen’s outward successor. This works really well because the Targaryens have a history of denying their female heirs. But now what’s left of them is a girl, and she is literally everything they could have hoped for. And she is a a reflection of her house, but her arc has at many times seen her be the antithesis of her ancestors. And I can’t help but think of the oncoming meta-textual showdown between her and Young Griff. On the surface Young Griff, a boy, is the preferred heir. But Dany is, in truth, the one.

Jon is interesting because, in my view, he challenges the Targaryen idea of exceptionalism. He’s easily the fantasy protagonist from the outside looking in. But he doesn’t have the Targaryen name, nor does he have the look. He has the blood, but what makes him special is that it is mixed with the other major fantasy protagonist house’s blood—he’s special in that he’s a hybrid. And this is interesting because if Aegon conquered the seven kingdoms because of a prophecy regarding him or one of his princely descendants, it’s quite the twist to have this messiah not even be a Targaryen prince (not in name anyway). That’s why all the hand wringing around “is Jon legitimate?” or “no one cares because he doesn’t look like Rhaegar” really isn’t the point. The point is for Jon to be the manifestation of the hero—the king—outside of that narrow framework. And if he succeeds, then GRRM would absolutely still be subverting prophecy and genre conventions.

There’s something to Jon and Dany being born as or after House Targaryen falls. House Targaryen has no crown, no throne, and their prophetic mandate has been usurped. But GRRM is so attached to them, and he certainly wants to rebuild them and hold fantasy to account. But to do so, everything we know about the Targaryens, everything the Targaryens knew about themselves, has to be challenged and put to the test by the personifications of all that a Targaryen hero couldn’t be: a girl, and a bastard.

[scene-iii]

OKAY WAIT. (i only have a loose idea of the tnbc event thanks to translations BUT WHAT IF)

Skully is one of the few members of Ramshackle Dorm, & during a trip to Foothill Town, he stumbles across the Nightmare Before Christmas book. He's sucked in and meets the NRC students. The story plays out and he's sent back to his time, centuries before any of his new friends are born.

He doesn't know this, of course, having forgotten everything. But there's this feeling of want in his chest, not only for a grand Halloween (a day full of life for the dead, much different from his previous ideals) but also for a friend.

He's always longed for friends, but why does his heart ache like he just lost one?

It takes some time, maybe a few weeks, as he tries to decipher his thoughts and feelings to figure out what's wrong. He spends most of his time planning the perfect Halloween to bring the holiday back onto the calendar; something more inviting, something that'll spread the joy he's recently begun to feel about the holiday.

"What gets people up and running? Hm... Perhaps music? Haunting and jaunty melodies would suffice... Why not dance as well...?!"

"Oh, I do adore a pitch-black pallet, but... There's no harm in adding color, right? It's all the rage these days anyways... Perhaps orange, to match pumpkins would be a good start?"

He's not quite sure where these ideas came from, but the ghosts of Ramshackle seem enthusiastic when he shares his thoughts. He has no one else to listen to his plans, and decides, what's the harm with talking to the ghosts? (The ghosts are pleasantly surprised at Skully's change of heart, and will do all they can to encourage this new path.)

Eventually, Skully begins to remember bits and pieces of his time in the book ("I could never forget an encounter with the lovely Jack-sama!" He says. Really, it's the idea of the friends he made that claw the event to the front of his mind).

Most of all, he remembers a magicless human. Oh, how sweet they were, even when he made some rash decisions. Among all the boys in his tale, the beast tamer was his closest companion—even if it were only for a little while.

He recounts the adventure in the book as best he can to the ghosts, seeing as no one else could believe him. A magical book that takes you far away? Who ever heard of that? The ghosts hang on his every word, laughing and gasping at the wonderous characters in Skully's story.

Halloween is a hit at NRC, and once he graduates, Skully decides to share Halloween with the rest of the world. The ghosts wave their old friend goodbye and safe travels, watching him part with spectral tears in their eyes.

The years pass, with Skully now departing from this world, and Ramshackle has fallen into ruin.

Until one day, a magicless beast tamer arrives in Twisted Wonderland, and is sent to live in Ramshackle.

The ghosts are overjoyed at having company after so long, but they can't help but be excited for a different reason.

After all, the King of Halloween's dearest friend has finally appeared.

[nightingale-prompts]

Finding Batboy

First| Previous | Next

Phantom

King

Fenton

Apprentice

Batboy

He just wanted to be Danny. Just Danny, nothing else.

But who was Danny anymore?

Danny was a 14-year-old boy who died in a tragic accident. Danny had a decent life with friends and a sister who he loved. Danny wanted to be an astronaut and loved the stars. Danny had an astrology phase that made him so annoying to everyone but Sam. Danny liked dogs and cats hated him for no reason no matter how much he loved them. Danny wanted to join the robotics club with Tucker. Danny still snuck into his sister's room when he was scared to sleep in her bed.

But Danny is dead. Danny has been dead for years now.

He missed being Danny.

Now he was Phantom.

No past.

No home.

No family.

But if that was true, what did that make Dick?

Just another person that he would have to leave behind. It wouldn't be long. History doesn't repeat but it rhymes. It can't last. It won't.

Danny flew to some abandoned factory located somewhere in Gotham. He hadn't really paid much attention. He just needed a desolate place to land. Somewhere even the ghosts have long abandoned.

Truthfully Danny didn't want to be alone. A part of him felt the urge to find that revenant that he had met. Something that felt familiar to him, someone that could understand.

But right now Danny wanted to rest and he wasn't picky about where. He wrapped his wings in a tight cocoon and plopped on the ground. His sleep was deep, more than he ever remembered having before, except once.

Danny walked through the halls of a spiraling tower that overlooked the Ghost Zone. The tower was decorated with stars and moons. Mist hovered just above the floor creating a icy blue carpet. Ghost sheep napped in corners. The scent of poppy and pine filled the air.

As Danny ascended to the top he met with a familiar face. Nocturne the ghost of dreams. The ghost's thick bridged nose reminded Danny of that of a sheep that matched his curled ramhorns. His red eyes with horizontal pupils reminded him of a demonic ram he had seen in a horror movie once. Danny could practically hear that line again: "Would thou like to live deliciously?"

It still gave Danny chills.

"Please refrain from making such comparisons." Nocturne said, his voice deep but soft at the same time.

Danny had gotten to know Nocturne some time ago. Apparently, he and Clockwork were close. They shared a high rank among ghosts as they were abstract manifestations rather then being that were once living like some. The hierarchy of ghosts was complex, and Nocturne was not someone to look down on.

"Nox, why am I here?" Danny said standing before the seven-foot frame of the amorphous ghost.

"You are spending too much time in the material realm. If you don't get time back in the realm to which you belong you'll go mad. It's already starting to happen. I stole your mind away for a bit to give you a mental break but your body is already starting to break down." Nocturne said waving a finger at him.

"My body and brain are fine Nox." Danny said crossing his arms.

Nocturne picked the boy up with one hand and held him at eye level.

"You are having trouble shifting are you not? Its not coming as easily as it should. The more attached you get to a form without the energy from our world to break it up the worse it will be. The Ghost of Time has already told me of the problem. You must stay here for the time being and recover. It is what's best. Mental weakness is the worst one can suffer and the remedy is sleep." Nocturne's breath smelled like warm milk and cinnamon. It calmed Danny's nerves and made his eyes heavy.

Clockwork had put him up to this. That old man...really was....annoying....Zzzz.

Back in the world of the living and awake mass panic has broken out.

Batboy is currently missing and Nightwing is not handling it well. The entirety of the Gotham Vigilantes team has been notified and is searching the cities of Gotham and Bludhaven.

"Have you searched the docks?" Nightwing asked frantically as he searched every rooftop in the city.

"I'm working on it. Do you really think he's here?" Red Robin said scanning every unit on the lot.

Red Hood didn't know what the BatBoy kid looked like other than the whole wings thing. If his little buddy Phantom could help it would help.

Although they had a slight resemblance Jason could see too many differences when looking at the pictures. Phantom had round ears, and silver hair that moved like fire and looked like a human. Batboy had long sharp ears, claws, pointy teeth, blueish-green skin, wings, and a white fluff around his neck. Clearly, they were different.

Batman searched the dark allies of Gotham as Signal and Orphan split up to cover as much ground as possible. Oracle searched every camera from the past few hours for the boy.

The good news was that Batboy was found. The bad news was who found him.

"Poor little Bluebird lost his fledgling and Batsy is looking for the lost pup. I should let them know that the little guy has been found! Ahahahaha!"

[laxxarian]

Dani grew up and became a mother

Danny finally lifted the ecto-laws with the help of Jazz, Sam and Tucker a few years back just so Dani could live and explore freely without hiding. And the law that is being added now is about meta protecting thing and Dani is considered as one.

Now, Dani's life became peaceful, finds a man and ends up marrying and gave birth to a son named Bruce.

Last name? Wayne.

When Danny found out that Dani was killed, he mourned for her death and wanted to care for her child that was left alone in the world but couldn't because he was finally fully dead and also a king so all he could do was ask CW for a favor.

Clockwork knew that this would happen and that's why Alfred exists in the Wayne Manor.

Danny was planning a way to get to the living realm since there's no longer a portal that his family made.

So when he did manage to find one, a side effect got him de-aged and turned back to his 13 years old self when he should be around 30-40's already. He theorized that it may be because that's when he became a halfa.

But anyways, Danny tries to visit by knocking on the door. That's what he remembers.

Danny vividly remembers knocking on the door first only to be swiped fast by multiple hands of kids by the oldest to youngest.

Apparently, they all saw him walking up to the gate and saw his features, noting that he may be the next child of the manor.

Dick: Hey, B. You gonna adopt the guy?

Bruce: *stares at the oddly, eerily, familiar boy* do I know you from somewhere?

Danny: Baby B, it's me, your grandma's brother, Danny.

Tim: *Drinking his fifth coffee* Excuse me, what?

Danny: These must be my great-grandnephews/nieces! It's nice to know you're doing well then.

Bruce: You're alive?!?

Danny: No. But I came back to see if you're good. I'm sorry it took me long to get here.

Jason: Hold it. What do you mean by that?