#yes the magic realm is the afterlife

[xoxo-ren-xoxo]

Another little au snippet by me

cw: major character death, extreme body horror, gore, insects / parasites / worms, animal death, thalassophobia, fucked up creatures and monsters

When Grian dies, Scar is expected to mourn. He is not exactly the mourning type, and he doesn’t think Grian would want him to be. 

He is, however, the necromancy type. And he’s sure that’s why Grian married him, anyway, so anyone who tries to tell him this isn’t what she would have wanted is completely wrong.

It takes a bit of effort, and a lot of reading, which he hates, but eventually he figures it out. So what if it’s extremely illegal and dangerous? He’s not just going to let his wife rot in the ground like some dead thing. She’s not dead because he said so.

With a book in his hand, the world splits in front of him like thick, yellow belly fat under a curved blade. A dead rabbit bleeds into the earth, red staining his boots, and before him, the gateway to the world of magic shines with bright, delicate energy.

There, inside the magic realm, he meets gods who say they will bring his Grian back. They help him navigate the impossible, and offer a trade of sorts. A sacrifice. It’s easy to agree. All they want is precious metal, and Scar has plenty lying about.

So, without much trouble at all, Grian comes back. She’s… a little shaken up, but overall quite happy to be alive again. It is a shame that she can’t really leave their house - a quaint little cottage in the woods - but Scar makes up for it by giving her all the affection in the world. And she still smiles the same as she always used to. 

He does have to continue the sacrifices, which means more trips to the magic realm. Sometimes this means animals, sometimes food, sometimes gemstones and gold. He steals the beautiful jewelry he once bought Grian, then their wedding silver, and bizarrely, photographs of them together. 

And he doesn’t tell Grian, but he’s certain she knows. Yet, he doesn’t want to talk about it. What he’s been doing. What he’s seen in that place where reality no longer makes sense.

Within the magic realm there are monsters and psychological terrors that mess with your mind and make everything seem like it’s been turned inside out. Like the world has been gutted and is bleeding all over itself. The creatures are horrific and ravenous, the things that look like people are faceless shadows that consume whatever they touch, and still somehow seem to be looking at you. 

A constant feeling of being watched causes paranoia and anxiety. There is no water, only rivers that run with red tar, and rain that falls like thick, glossy blood. There are beings who can render you non-existent in a matter of seconds, crushing all of the atoms from your body into nothing before you can even understand what's happening. There are extreme changes in atmosphere and pressure, threatening to pull your insides outward if you take a step too soon. 

Empty valleys that drop off sharply into a deep, deep abyss crowded with swirling, ghostly serpents. Trees that tower up high into the misty sky, so far and so grand they make you feel impossibly small. And in the distance, through the fog, something even larger moves its shambling, dripping limbs towards you. 

Massive insectoid creatures, bodies twitching, jumbled, wet messes of flesh, thousands of legs outstretched ready to grip onto the nearest surface and bite. Worms writhing in colourful dirt, looking for a patch of exposed skin to burrow under, parasitic eggs ready to be laid. Deer with razor-sharp antlers stained a rusty blue, and empty eye holes covering their backs, walking on six mangled legs each.

Territorial beasts, sneaking demons, the very environment itself is hostile. Hostile to any sane mortal wishing to penetrate its dense wilderness. To reach any godly shrine or mystical water of life. 

Scar is guided, and lucky, because he is there for a deal, but he has to learn how to survive like anyone else. And it's a sharp, severe, learning curve.

There are people here, Scar thinks. He hears them before he sees them, his third or fourth time entering the maze of jungle and bone. There is a sort of screaming, gurgling sound that could have maybe been human, once. 

It disturbs him for weeks, keeping him up at night despite never once seeing the poor soul behind the strange sound. 

Later, much later, while bringing the last of his wedding jewelry to the gods in the forest, he stumbles upon them. Or, some of them. He presumes there are more. Somewhere else deep in the sprawling realm. 

Strung up between the branches of trees and jagged spikes of rock are four, or five, things that might have been humans. Some, what scar would assume are the lucky ones, are held there splayed out by something akin to rope, twisting into and under their skin and wrapping around their splintered bones. The others are held up by their own entrails, their intestines opened up and unravelled like vines to keep them in place. 

They do not look like people anymore, but they are still screaming. Screaming in deranged, wet tones. One, the one closest to Scar as he walked into the scene, is a sort of mangled, degloved, fleshy thing, their body more a slab of meat than anything remotely humanoid. 

Where arms and legs may have once been, there are stubs of rancid, rotting carnage, which exudes a thick yellow fluid onto the ground below the suspended body. In their stomach cavity, worms and parasites writhe grotesquely, so multitudinous they can barely be distinguished from the body's own flesh. They have no face, a sliver that might be a mouth, and blank, empty holes where eyes could have been, all infested with more disgusting creatures. 

The worst part, scar thinks, is that they seem aware, whining and wailing around the maggots. How they remained alive, Scar has no idea. 

The other bodies are not much better off. Some still have limbs and faces, but they are so distorted and jumbled together they aren't distinguishable as individuals. The ones with skin are covered in legions, scratches, and bile, the skin itself rubbery and overstretched. 

Each of the bodies moan and sob torturously, and yet Scar can't bear to look away. Or help. Or move. How would he help them? How could he? 

Then, the thought catches up with him that something must have done this to these people. These things were human once, like him. And perhaps if it comes back, it will catch him and torture him all the same. 

Guilt wells up in his throat when he turns to leave, the weight of the golden necklace in his pocket like lead. He could wish for these people to be made whole again. To be freed and set out back into the natural world. He could help them. He could use this sacrifice for good, rather than greed. 

And as always, his mind wanders back to Grian. Grian, who won't talk about the afterlife. Who refuses to eat most days, despite being fully able to. Who Scar has found vomiting into the toilet, or rocking back and forth with hands in her hair, in the middle of the night. Who simply is not the same as she was, even though she's trying so hard. 

He thinks this might not be a realm of magic at all. He thinks it might be Hell.

It's then that scar's mind is made up, and it's then that he decides to stop thinking about the people in the forest, however many there might be. Because he can't sacrifice Grian, of all things. He can't bring her here. He refuses. 

And so, he continues, out to find god.

[enigmaris]

All Father Thor, King of Asgard,

A new ruler of Hel has been chosen, the fearsome King Phantom, defeater of Pariah Dark. It is time for Asgard to prepare to pay the dues required to keep peace between the realms of the gods and of the dead. Bring the terms of your surrender to King’s Phantom’s representative on earth, Daniel James Fenton of Amity Park.

The Noble Scribe of King Phantom,

Ghost Writer

*****

“Okay so let me get this straight,” Tony Stark, Iron Man and Avenger said. “Ghosts are real.”

“Yes.” King Thor Odinson, Asgardian and god of thunder agreed.

“And they’re evil.”

“A bit of an oversimplification, but yes.” Prince Loki Odinson, sometimes villain and would be planet invader, answered.

“And the ghosts have had one ruler, the most powerful ghost in existence. And that new rulers are chosen by combat, meaning that every new ruler is more powerful than the last.”

“Yes, you’ve got the idea.” Thor said looking down at his knees for a moment.

“And since ghosts are so evil and so powerful, that means that their ruler is practically an unstoppable force of destruction.”

“Doesn’t it sound delightful?” Loki asked, to which he received a glare.

“So, for the past 10,000 years, at least, Asgard and plenty of other realms have been paying taxes to the ghost king to avoid a war. A racketeering scheme.”

“I don’t know what a racketeering scheme is but yes, the ghost peace treaty does require that Asgard pay the ghost king gold and magical weapons every century and if we fail to pay that price, then the peace treaty will be broken and Asgard will likely be forfeit.”

“That’s a racketeering scheme!”

“Well then yes.”

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. It was clear the man’s headache was only growing stronger as he walked through the information the two gods had dumped into his lap this morning. Thor and Loki both had rushed into his lab and started babbling about world ending threats and how they might possibly be absolutely screwed.

“So, now there’s a new king. Which means a new peace treaty has to be signed.” Tony said the words ‘peace treaty’ in the same way he’d say ‘nuclear bomb’ or ‘Steve Rogers’.

“I thought you said it was a racketeering scheme?” Loki asked.

“Shut it.” Tony hissed.

“A new treaty must be signed.” Thor repeated, trying to keep the three of them on track.

“And since the last king Pariah Dark was so powerful that he made the entirety of Asgard tremble, you’re pretty sure this new king, Phantom, is probably worse.”

“Pariah Dark had the power to suck entire planets into the afterlife, destroying them,” Loki said looking at his nails. “Stands to reason that a ghost powerful enough to defeat him could do much, much worse.”

“Right. Fantastic!” Tony practically shouted.

“I don’t think anything about this is fantastic.” Thor admitted, he was ignored.

“And according to you Asgard has been paying the ghost tax for both their realm and ours since we were under Odin’s protection. And since Hela and Sutur destroyed your entire planet and your entire people are refugees, now we have to figure out how to keep an ultrapowerful ghost from wiping out our home without any way of paying him.”

“Technically we don’t know if Phantom is a ‘he’.” Loki pointed out unhelpfully.

“The letter literally says he’s a king!”

“Could be a title. What do the dead have need for gender?”

“This is not the point of this discussion,” Thor cut in before an argument about the usefulness of gender and the concept of a female king burst forth. “We’re here to figure out how to make peace with King Phantom without resulting in a war that would destroy our world and our peoples.”

“We don’t even have Earth’s mightiest heroes anymore.” Loki said, referencing the painful results of the civil war and the Accords.

“We’re fucked.” Tony decided.

“Yes,” Thor agreed. “We probably are.”

[suppose-i-was-worm]

Like A Lamb

**Idea taken from @nerdpoe's post- What the hell is this "Infinite Realms"?**

John Constantine would never call himself a kind man, much less a good man, but the kid at the corner table of this fast food restaurant was making him want to be both.

Not that John’s kindness would really help the kid, in the long run.

He’d seen so many things in all the time he’d been alive- wondrous and horrific in equal measure, but this boy- this teenager, barely out of childhood, was probably the most heart-breaking.

John had known sacrifices- marked by both men and demons. He’d seen the crumpled bodies after the fact, and sometimes he’d been able to save them beforehand. None of them were like this boy. Marked like a sacrificial lamb down to his bones by the universe- an inevitable end.

The teen was the beginning and the end of worlds- his death would shake the foundations of all that was, could be, and is. Time would stutter to a stop before restarting with a different beat, and John could do nothing to delay or stop what was coming.

How in the world could this kid still smile and laugh with his friends? How could he not feel the weight of an entire reality on his shoulders? If John, sitting across a dining room from him, could feel the pressure, why wasn’t the boy buckling under it?

John’s phone alerted him to a text from Zatanna- he was needed by the JLD.

With a sigh, he fished out the strongest protection amulet he had on him. It wouldn’t save the teen, but maybe it would make the rest of his life a little easier.

The kid looked up at him as he approached, all smiles and young innocence. John Constantine thrust the amulet into his hand and then turned, stalking out of the Nasty Burger.

He needed to tell the Justice League. Amity Park needed protection- there was a kid there whose death would change the world.

~~~

Danny flipped the little charm around in his hands, trying to figure it out. The sad trenchcoat man had handed it to him before leaving, and he had no idea why.

“What do you think it is, Danny?”

He shrugged. For some reason he didn’t want to hand it over to Sam for her to inspect it.

“Dunno. It feels important, though. I might take it to Pandora- she’s been teaching me a bit of magic stuff, so she can probably parse it out.”

For some reason, Danny knew he would recognize that man again if he ever saw him, despite only having looked at him for a moment. Something in his core rumbled contently as he tucked the amulet carefully into the back of his phone case.

The next few weeks, Danny found himself having suspiciously good luck. The food at home didn’t come to life, ghosts didn’t attack as much, Dash wasn’t a problem at school, and even the Fentons hadn’t been as insistent on catching Phantom.

That was another weird thing- His brain didn’t seem to compute that Jack and Maddie were his mom and dad anymore. He knew he’d been creeping toward that ever since his death, but it was like a switch had been flipped overnight. The Fenton adults no longer registered as his parents.

Finally he had a chance to slip into the Realms and head for Pandora, who took one look at the amulet he held out to her and laughed.

“You have been adopted, young one, and your core accepted.”

“Adopted?”

“Your nature is to protect- it sings in your blood and guides your instincts. An adult offered you protection, a safe haven, and you took them up on it. Had someone your own age done the same, your relationship with them would be vastly different.”

Danny frowned at the charm, but he didn’t put it down- it didn’t even occur to him to get rid of it.

“Why did he- what made him do that?”

Pandora ruffled his hair.

“He saw someone who needed protecting, I assume, and acted as he ought.”

~~~

“Bats, I don’t know what the Infinite Realms are. Yes, I know they exist. I just don’t know when they started to exist, and when my knowledge of the afterlife became outdated.”

Batman glared, and John rolled his eyes at the other man.

“Magic shit happens all the time. Zatanna can tell you just as well as I can that the Realms didn’t exist a year ago- and also that they’ve existed for millenia.”

“I’ve found a summoning spell for the king of the realms, but it requires a magic user. Zatanna is off-planet, so you’re up.”

John looked over at the speaker, Red Robin, whose slight form and dark hair made him think of the boy he’d left to die.

He’d thought of the boy more often than not- any research into the kind of sacrifice that would have so much power came to a dead end, and John Constantine hated that there was really and truly nothing he could do for the kid.

Maybe this Infinite Realms person might know something?

“Fine. What are the details?”

Red Robin perked up and handed over a heavy tome.

“Batman and I already set up the ritual space in the conference room, and a few other heroes are there to help out if the king is hostile.”

“Of course you have. Let’s go, then.”

The two bats swept off down the hallway, and John followed behind, studying the spell he would need to cast. It was fairly simple, and luckily wouldn’t require blood. He hated the ones that required blood.

As he stood over the sigils and spoke the ritual spells, the floor inside the protective circle began to writhe and bubble a toxic neon green. It was all John could do to stand straight as a rush of air spilled from the portal into the wide room, bringing with it the heavy taste of caution.

The Justice League took a step back as the first clawed hand reached out from the green, white and stretched beyond humanity. It scrabbled for purchase before finding it and pulling.

The creature that exited the swirling mass was something John had never seen before. If the situation wasn’t so tense, he might describe the creature as catlike, with a black body and white legs, as well as piercing green eyes. The similarities stopped, however, when the inky body flickered and lit up from within with the pinpricks of millions of stars and endless void.

This was a baby god, filled with the dreams of deities long forgotten and fueled by the hope of those still clinging on to life.

Its green eyes swept over the gathered heroes before coming to rest on John, and for a moment he felt as if his tattered soul was being judged by the cosmos.

And then the creature folded in on itself, the tense air around it changing from bitter caution to sweet relief, and John found himself face to face with the teenager from Amity Park.

“Hi.”

The boy sounded winded, but happy, and he reached inside his shirt to pull out a small chain necklace. John’s amulet was hanging off it, obviously well treasured and cared for.

“Did you know that you’re technically my dad now?”

Something on John’s face must have told the boy- the god, the sacrifice both dead and alive- that he was unaware of this fact. The kid shuffled a little, looking sheepishly at the floor.

“You- uh. Unintentionally offered safe haven. And I accepted without realizing what was going on, and- it’s weird. I collected your soul for you! Didn’t bring it with me, but I’ve got the pieces you’re missing.”

“I think you both need to sit down and discuss this.”

Bless Diana.

“Can you leave the circle, young one?”

The teen beamed at Diana and stepped out of the protective circle, smudging the sigils as he did and closing the portal.

“I can, yeah. Pandora says hi, by the way.”

John watched as the boy chattered away about his ghost friends to Diana while she led him to a seat, and then sighed, moving to join them. If he needed help with being a new dad, surely Bats could help, right?

[illwilledomen]

I recently became VERY interested in your Minecraft stuff, and I'd like to ask a question... In one of drawings, an illager tells Steve that "We can cheat death too," does this imply that the players CAN actually respawn just like how we can in Minecraft and if they can respawn how does it work?? And how do the villagers react to Steve just respawning?

Yes, they can!

Since you’ve been looking through my stuff you probably already know that players in Abiogenesis are constructs. While I sometimes call them robots, they are technically more like golems and whatnot, which are powered by magic, except far more advanced. The little metal port above a player’s heart is their soul core, and that is, you guessed it, where their soul lives, and what gives them life and sapience. Players can regenerate flesh on their body that has been lost or sustained damage in an injury. If the damage is so severe (or done to a specific vulnerable area like the neck or stomach, aka something that would be fatal) the player “dies” temporarily so it’s body can devote all it’s energy into repairing itself.

How does this work?

Well, their soul core sends the soul into stasis. It is temporarily phased out of the corporeal realm. In the Abiogenesis/Minecraft world, when anything living dies, its soul phases into a non-corporeal dimension called the Otherside and releases magical energy in the form of Experience. This occurs with players, however, what allows them to return is the fact the soul does not travel onward. It is tethered to the port, and only temporarily stays in the O.S. Eventually, once the body is fit to return to, the soul makes its way back into the port, and the player is alive again. These periods of “death” usually last 24 hours, though severe structural damage can render them dead for up to a week. They will not respawn in their last place of rest like in-game, wherever their body lies will be where they awaken.

Players lose a small amount of Experience when they die, and will wake up delirious and faint, with minor memory loss. Sort of a “death hangover”. They will also be ravenously hungry, as their bodies need to regenerate the calories lost from fixing their body. They also may experience trauma symptoms from the cause of death (e.g, death by fire makes them frightened of a campfire or a fireplace) though these will eventually subside.

Players can be killed permanently. Netherite is strong enough to destroy the soul core, as is extreme heat (im talking instantly vaporized levels of heat) and the Void. The Void obliterates all corporeal matter that is not voidborn upon contact, so a player falling into it will straight up cease to exist. There would be no afterlife in the Otherside, just Nothing — complete oblivion.

Villagers would be freaked the hell out for starters. Steve isn’t fully aware he isn’t a biological person (he suspects it, but he’s sort of in denial), all he would know is that he feels sick and there’s a huge chunk of time missing. Since the village steve lives in knows Steve and trusts him, they would not necessarily take it as a bad omen. They would likely hold a village meeting about it and try to make sense of the whole shabang. Reinard had a religious vision regarding the Hosts shortly before he adopted Steve, so he already believes deep down that Steve is, in some way, blessed by the hosts. This, alongside Steve’s other player-y quirks, would solidify that in his mind.

[mywitchyblog]

Hello queen 💅🏼

I have a question about witchcraft if that is okay to ask! So I’ve been reading about energies and the spiritual realm and how it says that if you begin energy work it will be like a beacon in the dark that announces your presence in the astral/spiritual so you have to be protected and this is why you should mainly focus on cleansing and protecting yourself.

I personally believe in this but what happens after death? Do these spirits keep pestering you and attack you? What if you are a secular witch who doesn’t work with deities or ancestors? What safety network do you have left when you eventually transcend this physical world?

I hope my question was clear lol I don’t know how to word it any better, thank you so much !!!❤️🙏

Oh, hey there, spiritual powerhouse! 👑✨ Let’s get into this cosmic tea because your question is giving thoughtful queen energy. So, yes, when you’re stepping into energy work, it’s like installing a massive Wi-Fi router in the astral plane—everyone and everything nearby gets a notification. That’s why grounding, cleansing, and protecting yourself is not optional—it’s the first rule of spiritual self-care. Think of it as locking your front door before you start experimenting with open phone lines to the spirit realm. 🔒📞

Now, about what happens after death—this is where things get spicy because it’s wildly subjective. Nobody has the universal manual for “What Happens When We Die: Witch Edition.” For me? I’m vibing with reincarnation and the idea that death is just another shift in the great cosmic multiverse. Spirits snatching your soul? Sounds like a fearmongering ghost story. I personally think your energy aligns with what resonates most with you—whether it’s cozying up in King Hades’ underworld (hello, fellow Hellenic pagan 💀🍇) or vibing in another dimension entirely.

And here’s where secular witches can slay without deities or ancestors: your protection lies in your practice. That means your energy is your network, your craft is your connection, and your intention is the firewall that keeps the astral trolls at bay. If you’re strong in your boundaries and your energy work, there’s no reason to think you’ll be haunted in the afterlife. Also, if you believe, like I do, that consciousness is a forever thing, then reality is just one big playlist you can shuffle through whenever you want. Death? It’s just skipping a track, babe. 🎶✨

So keep doing you, stay protected, and remember—your spiritual journey is yours to define. Let’s keep making magic and owning our power. 🔮💖

[thevoidstaredback]

There's a feeling that people who have died and come back feel. It's not easily shared or described, but it's there. It feels different to each person. To Jason, it feels like a cup of hot chocolate that's fresh off the stove, the smell of old books, waking up in the morning and being just so warm.

Before he'd been killed, he remembered that everything was bright. It was bright and magical and he always felt like he was being hugged by his mom when she was lucid. Then, after he'd died, after he'd come back, everything was cold and empty and dull. He’d honestly forgotten what colors looked like.

He had no idea what happened, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care or be upset. The Pit that had lingered in the back of his mind, rearing its ugly head when emotions got too high, was gone. It didn’t leave a hole or anything, but he knew it was gone.

In his dreams, he remembered hearing a voice. He didn’t know what they said, just that he felt lighter.

Jason found Danny in the library just after breakfast. Bruce and Tim, with Alfred confirming, had both said that he was still in the Manor and Jason needed to talk with him.

“What are you?” he asked the second the door closed behind him.

Danny didn’t look up from the book he was reading. “A psychopomp. Why?”

Well, that explained a few things. It also brought up so many more questions. “Did you do something to me?”

“To you? No. To that memorial in the Cave? Yes.”

It was weird to not feel the Pit stirring at the mention of the case. He took a seat on the chair opposite where Danny was sitting. “What did you do? I feel lighter, and the Pit’s gone.”

Danny turned the page in his book, raising his eyebrow as he said, “‘The Pit’?” Jason shook his head and Danny continued, “You feel lighter because it’s gone. The corrupt emotions plaguing your mind? I got rid of them for you.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s my job.”

“Your job? I thought you were King?”

Finally, Danny closed his book and put it on top of the other four on the table next to him. “As King, my primary function is to guide Souls. The method varies depending on the task. Sometimes I council, other times I make a rule. Souls are free to do as they please as long as they don’t upset the balance.”

“Okay..?”

“You’re a very well learned man, Jason. Tell me, what’s a psychopomp do?”

“Guide souls to the afterlife?”

“We act as bridges, free to cross between Realms as needed, privileged to help and maintain. You feel lighter because you’re no longer lost.”

“That’s,” Jason began, “That’s a lot of information.”

“Yeah, well, it’s the least I could do.”

“What do you mean?”

“No one came to get you when you were fourteen, and you were forced to wander.”

The silence between them fell heavy.

“It’s okay-”

“It’s not okay! It’s my job to make sure no one gets looked over- that everyone finds their peace, and yet-”

“So maybe it’s not entirely ‘okay’, but it’s what I got! Besides, now I can get away with making zombie jokes and no one can say otherwise.”

Danny snorted. “Death jokes are the best.”

“Right? Especially because no one can refute them.”

The two laughed.

***

The members of the Justice League Dark were in the kitchen when he arrived, pizza and soda and wine sitting on the counter despite it being ten in the morning.

“Good marrow, everyone,” Phantom yawned.

The others in the room all started yawning and he smirked. It worked every time.

“You’re sounding very Kingly this morning.” Deadman said, “Something happen?”

“Meh,” he shrugged, “It comes and goes.”

There was a tiny smile on Raven’s face. “Just like the one brain cell you have?”

“Exactly!” Phantom grinned, “She gets it!”

Zaranna gasped dramatically. “You have a functioning brain cell?!”

“Sometimes,”

“Alright, alright,” Constantine said through another yawn, starting everyone else up again, “Have some pizza and tell us what the hell you meant last night.”

Phantom looked at the wine. “This early in the morning?”

Pulling the bottle closer to herself, Zatanna scowled, “Shut up.”

Raven yawned again. “Isn’t there something to stop all this yawning?”

The answer, somehow, is no. Not in any of the Infinite Realms is there a way to make yawning not contagious.

Sitting at the table, Phantom retold his night. Obviously, he left out details that didn’t include them, skipping over them with the explanation of Kingly Duties. After a full hour of talking, the discussion was finally opened to the table.

“Let me get this straight,” Deadman said, “Batman’s father-in-law is maybe probably trying to get into the Realms to challenge you to a duel?”

Phantom shrugged, “I mean, yeah? Baty and his cauldron think so at least. And the evidence points to them, so I’m inclined to believe.”

“That’s great and all,” Zatanna interrupted, “But what about the Coma Case? There are still new reports coming in every day,”

“That’s what I don’t get about this,” Phantom agreed, “I think we’ve got two different cases going on.”

“Completely unrelated?” Raven asked.

“Completely unrelated.”

Constantine sighed heavily, throwing back whatever was left in the flask in his hands. “You said you talked to Lady Gotham?”

“Yeah,”

“What’d she say?”

“In so many words? She didn’t give us the simple answers she had because…” he trailed off, realization hitting him.

“‘Because’,”

“Because someone’s working for the enemy.”

“What?!”

“Either whoever’s behind this has someone on the inside or- Shit!” Everyone stood with him, chasing after him as he flew to the basement door. “Deadman, with me!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Zatanna, start looking for any Realms Beings in Gotham. Raven, Connie, I need you guys to make sure not a hint of anything has spread beyond us and Batman.”

“What the hell is going on?!” Constantine demanded.

“No time to explain!” Opening the door, Phantom and Deadman disappeared into the Infinite Realms.

Part 22 Part 24

[scarlet--wiccan]

Seeing you said about having headcanons and ideas about the witches road, I was wondering if you could show us a few of what's in your mind?

For sure! So, in the TV show, the Road is presented as a series of magical trials that witches have to overcome to receive power and other rewards. That's a tried and true fantasy trope, but it's not really how the Road is presented in comics. In Scarlet Witch, it appears to be more of spirit world, with branching paths representing different folklore and mythology. It's also home to the Witchcraft goddess, an abstract entity personifying witchcraft itself and the natural laws that govern it. The Road also leads to other worlds and planets beyond Earth, and contains a special afterlife realm where witches go when they die, and which seems to frequently enable their return.

We've never really seen witches visit the Road under "normal" circumstances, so it's hard to say how often they visit, but I think the logical assumption is that it's a special place where witches go to commune with gods, spirits and ancestors, and something they can use as a means of inter-world/inter-planar travel, sort of like the Bifrost. I would really like to see it incorporated into more stories any time witches need to gather, communicate, or visit other worlds. These days, most of the spellcasters in Marvel comics can just astral project or make portals when they need to get around, but I think magic is more interesting when you add these details and devices.

Just for fun, I designed some imaginary grimoire pages explaining the rules and layout of the Road. To be clear, this is basically fanfiction-- I have a strictly-canon breakdown here.

As for story ideas, I have a few--

I wrote this outline for Hecate's return as a recurring villain.

Billy's mentioned receiving magical lessons and mentorship from Wanda, but we've never seen this on-page. Obviously, teleporting between Throneworld and Earth isn't hard for them, but the Road would be a convenient place for them to meet up without having to physically travel. Staging conversations there could be an organic way to bring up stuff like the Scarlet Witch lineage, how Billy fits into it.

On a related note, I've always wondered if it would be possible for some of the other Maximoffs to walk the Road-- we've talked about the possibility of including Tommy and Pietro in the magical world, and I've also said that having Luna explore her magical potential would be a great way to stage meaningful conversations about heritage.

Outside of the Maximoffs, there are a lot of characters in this particular corner of the Marvel world who would benefit from unpacking some of their ancestral baggage. Zoe Laveau, Alice Gulliver, and Nico Minoru are all top of mind. I would love if the next step in Nico's journey was to reach closure with her mom's history, and forge her own staff so she can reclaim that power on her own terms.

If we ever revisit Agatha's history with the coven at Mount Wundagore, including the Witches' Road would be a natural choice. I'm imagining Agatha convincing Nico, Zoe, and some of the other coven descendants to walk the Road in order to revive an old magical pact between the families. Agatha would obviously make a power grab, but the descendants-- maybe with help from Wanda-- would thwart her by altering the pact to be more equitable. (yes, this is my idea of a more in-character version of the TV plot.)

Chthon is free again. We know that there is a history of witches and the Witchcraft goddess binding chaos magic, and I think that Wanda is coming around to the idea that she can't, or shouldn't, shoulder that burden alone. Reviving the old coven, or maybe forming a new one, could the first step in binding Chthon more sustainably, and maybe the witches will need to walk the Road in order to get help from the goddess.

Hexfinder also has history with the Witchcraft goddess. If she's going to be a recurring villain, I'd like to revisit that. I imagine that Wanda would want to find a way to settle the debt between Witchcraft and the alchemists, not just to get Nicola off her back, but to provide genuine, transformative justice. That's the core principle of how Wanda operates as a solo hero.

[starrieisdelusional]

Merlin Fix It Episode, Season 1: Elyan

Summary:

Elyan's introduction

Plot:

In this AU, Arthur thinks Gwen is really pretty so he flirts with her far before Merlin came to Camelot. Gwen never accepts his advances and Arthur never push it to anything further.

He does it again in this episode but this time he's confronted by a guy named Elyan who we later found out as Gwen's older brother, but not before Arthur's ass got kicked by Elyan. Elyan hates his guts because Arthur is a bit of a prat and a misogynistic asshole who is probably just playing with Gwen's heart. (yes arthur personality is bad here like in season 2 and 3 but it will get better)

In an attempt to try to win Gwen, Arthur thinks it's a good idea to try to befriend Elyan. This obviously fails even with Merlin's advises and leads to a second fight. But this actually becomes the start of their friendship as they bond over Tom's (Elyan's father) cooking.

Arthur started visiting Elyan more and more often and they eventually became besties (Arthur says it was an excuse to see Gwen but he thinks Elyan is neat).

Elyan eventually told Arthur bits and pieces of his and his family backstory:

elyan told arthur that it's hard living with their skin color. People would often treat them differently. There was a time where gwen got set as a bet and she got heartbroken by a random guy named alvin or something (arthur's actions reminded elyan of this particular event, that's why he's so hostile towards him, because gwen is really sweet and its sad that there are so many assholes in the world)

They weren't originally from camelot. they would travel a lot before their father found a stable job there. even if the prejudice is still there, camelot provided them safety other kingdoms could not.

elyan is a traveler now, part because he wants to travel the world, part because he's trying to find his mother. their mother left when they were little, from bits and pieces of his memory, elyan is curious about what kind of person his mother is.

arthur especially relates to this, with his situation.

the next day, an old woman gave them the horn of cathbhadh (it is later revealed that this is morgause who has been listening into their therapy session)

elyan and arthur decided to use this horn to summon their mother's souls. Elyan and arthur agree to make this summoning a secret from gwen, he's afraid that their mother will be a bad person. Arthur gave Elyan a chance to go first (because it's still theorized that his mother is dead, he didn't actually know where she is). But lo and behold, elyan mother appeared and starts cursing elyan for his existence.

elyan immediately left while looking back and the horn broke, arthur is unable to summon his mother. Unfortunately this also means that Elyan's mother is summoned to the living realm and from here we got more information about her past:

**gwen and him didn't have the best mother. she was a sorceress who married tom out of desperation. she married him and conceive children so she wouldn't be burn at the stake. she would fend them off from any threat, but she often abuses the family. elyan doesn't remember any of this.

merlin along with gwen, morgana, and gaius helped them to send her back to the afterlife. but uther got caught of this chaos and blame elyan for it, banishing him from camelot.

arthur is extremely upset about this but elyan laughs it off, happy he finally met his mum and find a new friend. he says he's enjoys travelling more and plans to do that anyways. elyan bid his goodbye and ride off to the sunset.

Afternote:

if they hate magic, i'm pretty sure they also hate people of color.

this is my version of their backstory for now, there might be changes in the future. it's not perfect. It might be even a bit OOC because this changes gwen's and elyan's values. let me know what you think!!

oh and yes gwen and arthur have little crushes on each other, but merthur and morgwen are still endgame.

Season 1 Outline:

Main post:

To find my other ramblings about this AU, filter with the hashtag #must we really rely on fate?

[inaconstantstateofchange]

Mephistopheles's Deal - Devilish Hierarchy in the Forgotten Realms

[Spoilers for Astarion's personal quest and also pretty much the entirety of the game.]

So, I have a lot of thoughts about the devils in Baldur's Gate 3. I think in general, Larian has done a pretty solid job of drawing from and referencing the Forgotten Realms lore as it relates to their characters and storylines, but with the devils is where the most has been lost in translation to the broader audience.

There is a big difference in the Forgotten Realms between devils and demons - it's more than just semantics. This is one area where the alignment charts are actually useful - Devils are Lawful Evil, while Demons are Chaotic Evil. What this means in practice, is that devils are evil, yes, but they are also intensely bureaucratic and bound by specific laws, structures, and hierarchies. Demons are the exact opposite, misshapen monstrosities (for the most part) that do not belong in the world and are driven to lash out at it for its existence alone.

The "Blood War" that Karlach and a few other characters mention in Avernus? That is devils vs. demons. In fact, devils were originally celestials themselves, that became corrupted in their efforts to stop the tide of demons. The remaining celestials turn a blind eye to the Hells (or actively encourage its existence) because the devils are the forces holding back the encroaching Abyss, a far greater threat than they themselves could ever be.

The major area that we see this hierarchy expressed is in the layers of the Hells, the different dominions. Zariel is the least powerful Archdevil, ruling (and fairly recently come to power, too) the First layer: Avernus. The second-strongest Archdevil, of the Eighth layer, is Mephistopheles, superseded only by Asmodeus, the Archdevil of the Ninth layer.

With regard to the overall power level of the archdevils, this is where the exact answer gets a bit fuzzy. It has varied by edition, and personal take on the lore, but the ultimate point of agreement is this: no matter how powerful you personally think the Archdevils may be, Asmodeus is the exception. He has at least the strength of a greater god (one with a wide and expansive domain crossing multiple worlds), not even including the additional power he would be able to bring to bear by virtue of his domain, were a conflict to take place within it.

Raphael and Mizora, the two "devils" we have the most direct experience with as players, are not true devils at all, but rather cambions: half-devils. This allows them to skip some of the steps of power development usually required for devils to increase their power, but also stratifies them a bit with that development. Their primary advantage is freedom of movement between the planes, granted to them by their mortal parentage.

(The above is just part of the reason why Raphael's "plan" is so laughably doomed to abject failure, but that is a meta for another day.)

On to souls: why do devils need them, how do they get them, and what do they use them for?

Devils have an entire society based on backstabbing, conniving, one-upmanship, and, most importantly: paperwork. The devils - especially the Archdevils - are always looking for ways to get one up on each other. Not even necessarily to take their positions (although if it so happens to work out that way, all the better), but just to have information, leverage, even one point of superiority over them, etc.

One of the primary ways devils can bolster their power levels is based on the number (and quality) of souls under their command. Those souls, when willingly signed away, do not go to the usual Fugue Plane upon death, to be taken by whatever god values them most highly to their own afterlife. Instead, they go directly to the Hells. There they begin the standard progression of lowest-ranked devils: tortured to wring out what magical energy can be gleaned from them, then starting as lemures on the lowest rungs of the hierarchy, contributing to the infernal economy and adding to their ruling Archdevil's power, ranks, and influence.

Unwilling souls can be used, but they are generally considered to be the lowest quality, used mostly for things like soul coins, etc.

Note: this is where this is going from primarily lore-backed meta to meta I am extrapolating onto a bit, based on what seems logical to me.

If souls can only be willingly signed away, why can Cazador pay for his contract with Mephistopheles by trading the souls of others? Based on the legalistic evil of devils, my take is that, by the properties of magic and vampirism in the Forgotten Realms, "legally" speaking, the spawn he creates are enough a part of him that he is able to speak for their souls in their stead.

Based on this property, and the aforementioned power scale of the devils, the thought arises: does it really make that much sense for the Dark Urge to just be able to waltz into the Eighth layer of the Hells and steal the Crown of Karsus? It would make much more sense if it was willingly given - or at the least, allowed to be taken - by Mephisto, who stood to gain something much better than a bauble of not much use to archdevils: souls, and a multitude of them.

If Cazador is able to sign away the souls of his spawn, due to them being magically recognized as a part of him, I believe the same would be true for mindflayers turned by the controlled Netherbrain. The goal of the Dead Three was to ultimately transform an untold number of denizens of the Forgotten Realms, to take their souls and the power from their worship away from the gods (they never claimed to be brilliant strategists, we'll leave it at that). Mephisto, then, would stand to gain a great deal in being able to make use of those souls himself.

I do think that rather than a heist, Durge and/or Gortash made a deal with Mephisto for the Crown in exchange for the souls of any transformed mindflayers. A win-win for both parties, by all accounts.

Shame about the unforeseen brain damage and/or ragtag team of meddling do-gooders - and their owlbear, too.

[jamestheenderman]

Is the astral plane stuff like- an original thing? An astrology thing? Superstition? Or something? What is it in the setting of Minecraft even? It feels like no native being would know of it anyhow.

Why introduce such a thing if Minecraft already has magic and realms in place. Maybe even afterlife if you tie it to the nether and aether. /genuine /curious

LONG TEXT AHEAD:

[[ Long story short, a friend of mine and I had the idea of making our own kind of realms. Back in 2014, Minecraft wasn't so advanced and we basically.. created some kind of religion? Not exactly that but to put it simple, we made our own version of Creation itself. We created a God and its "minions", which would be what you'd call Astral Spirits today. They would evoke the nature and its forces: Darkness, Light, Water, Ice, Magma, Fire... and so on. We gave these Astral Spirits temples where they would rest and recover their forms once a while. Afterwards, Astral Planes were created, places where people would go divided by birth. This basically meant that depending on which "tribe" you were assigned, your plane would change from one to another. Did these realms have some difference among them? It's a tricky ask... yes and no. Buuut yea...]]

TL;DR: Astral Planes and their lore were created as a need to expand the Minecraft universe and how we understood it.

[chaos-love-au]

Failure.

[Part 2 of Chaos L-ove]

Click here to read on AO3

Warnings: Super Paper Mario spoilers.

Summary: Dimentio regrets ending Mr. L's game, and he attempts to get him back. But things go wrong.

---

Dimentio didn't move, his eyes were fixated on the spot Mr. L stood in.

“Wh-why did I do this…” he whispered, a pained sob escaped his mouth.

He fell to his knees, the pain spread in his mind, it wasn't going to go away any time soon.

Mr. L was dead, gone. And it was no one's fault but Dimentio's, he knew that well.

“I-i..” he attempted to collect his thoughts.

“I need..” he took a shaky breath, “I need to speak with Queen Jaydes…”

He slowly got up, taking deep breaths to calm himself down.

He began walking towards the door, but something crunched under his feet. Small pieces of a magical material.

“My mask…” he collected what's left of it, and placed it in a hidden pocket.

He started floating, just a few inches above the ground. He floated away, using the door.

Now that his mask was destroyed, he had to make another stop before going to retrieve L.

---

“Dimentio! How are you? It's been so long!” A small shadow creature cheered, approaching the jester.

“Hello, Shadoo. I hope you've been well..” Dimentio nodded.

“You alright? You're never without your mask. And you sound… depressed.” Shadoo tilted her head.

“Depressed? No. Just… a mess. Have you met the heros yet?”

“The heros? Of the light Prognosticus? No, I haven't.. have you?” Shadoo seemed curious.

“Indeed I have, they're quite strong. I suggest sending your minions out, they will visit soon, I can assure you of that.” Dimentio chuckled softly.

“I will, no need to worry. Now, enough catching up, we all know you don't come to visit without a reason.” She jumped in place.

Dimentio sighed, “yes… I'm here to request your help creating a new mask. You're the only creature that knows how to create the material.”

“Hmm.. alright.”

“If you would like payment, the heros have defeated Fracktail, and he is laying lifeless in the sand.”

“Oh! Very nice…” Shadoo turned to a door behind her. “The stuff’s there. Be quick.”

“Thank you, little sister, I appreciate this more than I can express.”

Shadoo nodded.

Dimentio quickly entered the room and gathered everything he needed. With the wave of his hand, a new, identical mask was created. He placed it on his face.

“So much better…” he smiled, his mask smiling with him.

He left the room.

“Looking fabulous as always, Dimmy.” Shadoo laughs.

“Heh.. thank you. I shall continue my plans now. Will I see you tomorrow for dinner?” He smiled at his sister.

“Of course!” Shadoo jumped again, happy.

Dimentio teleported away.

---

Queen Jaydes smiled at Mario as he walked through the door to return Luvbi to the Overthere.

“Your majesty! How wonderful to see you again!” Dimentio called as he teleported into the room.

“Dimentio… weren't you banished?” The queen sighed.

“Ha! That's true, but I'm back for a small visit!” He laughed.

“What do you want? I don't exactly deal with outlaws of the realm.”

“I need someone out of here. He ended up here by an… accident.. and he has unfinished business in the living world.”

“And why should I release him? There is not a single reason I should believe you.” Queen Jaydes crossed her hands.

“His name is Luigi, and he's the one in charge of the world's fate.”

“He just left with his brother.”

“No!” Dimentio yelled involuntarily. He cleared his throat. “Uh. That was not a wise decision. His brother is-”

“The hero of the Light Prognosticus. I've made my decision. You're not getting him. And I suggest you leave my realm, unless you want to spend the rest of your afterlife in the most well-guarded dungeon in the Underwhere.” she hissed.

Dimentio scoffed, “you'll pay for this, Queen Jaydes!”

“I'm sure.” She replied, sarcastic.

Dimentio teleported away.

---

“No, no, Mimi! Ye need teh wear more white!” O’Chunks shook his head.

“But I hate white dresses!” Mimi frowned.

“But it look good, Hen, white goes well wit’ green.”

“urgh! What do you know!?” Mimi grabbed the pile of dresses from the table and angrily left to her room.

O’Chunks sighed with a smile, “weird lass…” he mumbled before turning back to his drawing.

Dimentio floated in through the window, visibly weak.

“Oof. You alri’t?” Chunks turned to face him.

“Shut up.” Dimentio hissed, moments before collapsing onto the floor.

“Ooh no!” O’Chunks scooped him from the floor, “Nastasia! Dim's passed out!” he called.

Nastasia's heels clicked on the floor as she rushed into the room, “what happened?”

“I don’ know, he just got ‘ere”

Nastasia sighed, “put him in his room, k? In his bed.”

O’Chunks nodded and ran to Dimentio's room, holding onto him tightly.

Nastasia watched as they left the room, “there is no way this was the heros’ doing…” she noted to herself before leaving as well.

---

Dimentio opened his eyes, very slowly gaining back consciousness.

“You're awake! Are you okay? Chunks said you just passed out!” Mimi sat next to Dimentio's bed.

“Ah.. oh…” Dimentio barely processed her words.

“Don't move, you could be badly hurt… was this the ‘heros’? Did you fight them? Is that why Mr. L is gone? Did he go with you?” Mimi questioned.

Dimentio froze at the mention of Mr. L. “M-Mr. L…” he mumbled.

“Yes.. where is he?” Mimi asked.

“He…” Dimentio didn't want to answer that. Especially not while he was still recovering from the hit his head got when he passed out.

Mimi was silent, she was waiting for Dimentio to finish his sentence.

“He's gone…” he hated to admit it, but he had to tell the truth, even if it was only part of it. Mimi deserved it, she was very close to Mr. L.

Mimi gasped, “wh-what?! No! You're lying!”

“I-it's true.. I'm sorry, Mimi.” he closed his eyes, he didn't want to stain the mask with his tears.

“No!” She ran off crying.

Dimentio’s useless struggles to get up were painful. He felt… powerless. Pathetic. He lost Mr. L. And now, he won't be able to fight the heros.

“Perhaps returning to the Underwhere was not very smart…” he thought.

There was shouting from outside the room, Mimi was upset.

“I'm so sorry…” Dimentio sat up straight, tears flowing from behind his mask.

[omeletcat]

ALRIGHT so i have a little problem with the worldbuilding/writing rn. I call this problem the magic cycle, based on a carbon cycle, A carbon cycle is a cycle of carbon (yes i know crazy) where you breathe out carbon, plants then make oxygen out of it and then a bunch of shit happens, but basically its a cycle, it keeps pretty much the same amount over time i realized that the magic in my game worked pretty similarly, every person has a soul thats made out of magic energy, magic attracts magic, so it becomes blobs of energy and some places have an absence of energy called a neutral zone, the earth is mostly made out of these neutral zones with exceptions called Nexus (a nexus is a connection linking 2 things together, and the nexuses are places with a lot of magic energy creating slight breaches between the spirit world and he human world. some witches (a small society of people who know about the spirit world and can use magic, wait lemmie tell a bit about them lol, a witch can also use magic, anyone with enough magic in their soul can use it, however it pushes magic out, and since there isn't a lot of random magic energy floating around to absorb it can kill you when you use to much and you're soul dies not even going to the afterlife but just stops existing and you're body becomes a husk, a living organism without a soul a monster without humanity of life in it, thats why witches either use crystals and gems (which have magic energy inside them more then most things) or living things like plans and stuff put into potions to reabsorb the needed energy to survive) when a person dies their soul rises up and gets absorbed into the afterlife, a giant black realm of something that i will not disclose as i feel like explaining everything would ruin the magic behind it. (i do have some idea's for it tho) if a soul is strong enough and can't leave the human world behind they become a ghost, a soul without a body that can mutate as it absorbs magic from other sources slowly losing themselves. BUT this brings up some very complicated questions:

FIRST OFF what happens when a spirit dies? a spirit also has a soul, but that brings up the magic cycle problem, a spirit(or a human) pushes out energy from their soul to use magic, and then absorb the magic from the area, when they are born their parents give a part of their soul that then slowly absorbs magic over time before it is a full soul and can be born, BUT when it dies should it go to the afterlife?? that would break the cycle and mean that magic energy is slowly depleting. The same counts for the human world (which has way less magic then the spirit world) if i make it that when a spirit dies their soul gets pulled apart and absorbed by te realm so the cycle stays intact.. that pretty much. means they don't get to go to the afterlife? and i that afterlife is smth like another plane of existence, that would suck sooo badly. i'm pretty much saying that they can't go to heaven (if that was what the afterlife is.) i could say that the afterlife returns the energy from the souls down to earth and the spirit world, but would that mean the souls die in the afterlife??? , i cant erase the afterlife caus thats. how you get to the spirit world if you weren't born there, when a person is in state between life and death (physical or mental) their soul gets stuck between rising to the afterlife and staying in the human world, so it gets shot down to the spirit world and the body kinda pulls towards it and they match and then end up in the spirit world. ALSO that would mean that if a person uses magic and dies before they can absorb some more, the magic in the spirit world is slowly growing!! that would also be fucked!!! how should i fix this??? either A i make it so that the afterlife returns the magic to their respective plane of existence, meaning that smth weird happens there and i would kinda tell the player wtf happens when you die which is something i don't want or B i don't explain it, ignore it and act like it never happened. what do y'all think??? like actually, tell me what you think i need a second opinion caus i'm tweaking rn.

[phantomskeep]

For those who want an update on Putting the "Fun" Back in "Funeral" - chapter four is nearly done! Just writing the last POV now. Chapter 4 should be about as long as chapter 3 (maybe even longer? It's at 6.8k right now and Jason's pov is going to be pretty lengthy) :D

For now, have a WIP since I missed Wednesday! Some parts are beta'ed, some aren't. If you notice any mistakes please let me know! :)

(The "..." means scene break. I kinda just grabbed random parts from the doc and slapped 'em in here hehe)

Excerpts from Putting the "Fun" Back in "Funeral" Chapter Four: Welcome to Gotham's One-Stop Shop for Villainy

...

Danny gave an involuntary awed noise. “So you guys have heroes here, too?” A dark tendril of smog wrapped around the back of the couch, resting gently against Danny’s neck.

The idea of having other heroes around was something that greatly appealed to Danny. Being the lone super-powered protector of Amity Park for so long took its toll on the young man, even with his human companions. It just wasn’t the same, being the only one with advanced abilities. He had to take the bigger hits, he had to be the one to save his friends if they got into too great of a bind, he had to be the one to try and take on the burden of Amity Park alone when they all went off to find their place in the world. With great power comes great responsibility, after all. And being the Ghost King? Well, Danny had more than enough “great power” to spare.

The thought was just as sobering as it was exciting. Other heroes, super or not, meant that there was something to have caused those heroes to come into play. Some great villain, or a world-ending disaster, or even large crime rates. Lady Gotham only said criminals, though, so maybe there were no supervillains Danny needed to worry about.

“Yes. In fact, there is a large society of both heroes and villains.”

Well, it was a nice thought while it lasted.

“But many of the aliens you were so excited to hear about are among those heroes.” Gotham continued, not noticing Danny’s sudden mid-afterlife crisis. “There is the Batman, who is one of the founders of the Justice League. Superman, Wonder Woman, the Flash, Green Arrow, and many others are all part of this superhero society - the Justice League.”

“Okay,” Danny was desperately trying to keep up with this sudden information. “So, Batman is a super-powered dude who helped to start an entire squad of superheroes?”

“He has no powers. The Dark Knight is just a man, same with Green Arrow and many others. They simply are able to keep up with the aliens, gods, and metas.”

Danny paused, taking in a breath. He touched his fingers together, pressing his palms flat. Another breath was taken, this one deeper than the last. With every ounce of teenage angst he still had within him, Danny lifted his hands up together to rest against his forehead before bringing them down in an arch that would have made Sam proud. “What the fuck.”

A laugh rolled from Gotham’s form, his guardian sneakily tightening her protective hold on him. “What the fuck indeed, Little One.”

“Okay, okay-” Danny’s voice cracked with indignation, “So regular everyday humans fight supervillains and are able to keep up with gods? And super-powered aliens?”

“Yes.”

“And one of those humans - who named himself after a bat - is the sole protector of your lair? Besides yourself? And he doesn’t let any of his superhero friends help him?”

“I never said he worked alone. Though, for a long time he did not have any help.”

“Lady G,” Danny said again with exasperation. “I repeat: what the fuck.”

...

Gotham huffed, “Because, quite frankly, there are magic users who know about your coronation. Any being with ties to death - through magic or dying or any other way - heard the Song of Ancients as you took the crown. It will not take long for your influence over the Realms to reach here, and when that occurs they will know.”

“And then the jig is up?”

“Yes, then the ‘jig is up’.”

A loud groan left him, frustration causing Danny to get up and pace. “So, what? I just go around and snatch everything while invisible? Or in the Kingly gear? Wouldn’t that just give everything away from the get-go?”

When Gotham didn’t respond, the young man turned to face her. The City Spirit was staring at him, not saying anything.

“What?” He finally asked when he couldn’t stand it.

“You can change the outfit of your form.” She stated. “Did you not know this?”

Danny let his silence speak for him.

...

It took flipping through old news channels, trolling internet forums, random fan blogs, and even watching a few interviews of various heroes for Danny to get a vague grasp of this new reality. There were some heroes that he couldn’t get a full view of - the Batman being one of them. All he could find were grainy photos of the hero and hints that he wasn’t the only hero in the city.

Which would make Danny’s job a bit harder.

During his deep dive into this dimension’s cultures, Danny flipped through the little journal Clockwork had gifted him. His mentor’s steady handwriting listed out the various artifacts he was going to need to find as well as their general location. Many of those artifacts, after using his shiny new high-tech computer to look them up, were located in public places or stored in secret, secure facilities. Yoinking the public ones wouldn’t be too much of an issue for Danny - his abilities would make it rather easy to avoid detection, after all - but he had no idea what a “Fortress of Solitude” was. Or even something as vague as “The Watchtower”. Seriously, some of these places sounded weird.

But others had cities listed out. Star City was obviously a town, he knew where Gotham was (duh), and even places like Themyscira were easy enough to Google. It was with this brilliant deduction that led Danny to believe some of the weirder names weren’t attached to a city at all which was rather worrying.

Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on who asked) Clockwork wasn’t one to steer Danny in a direction the old ghost knew wouldn’t work out. So with a healthy dose of blind faith, Danny chose to focus on whatever artifacts he could easily access for now. This meant Danny spent a decent amount of time casually scrolling through museum articles, even more blogs, and whatever else he could get his grubby little hands on. Honestly, it made the Ghost King feel like he was back in highschool trying to desperately write an entire research essay the day it was due.

The first item on Danny’s newly named “List of Shit I Need to Steal” was an item called the Hand of Greed. According to the Gotham Museum of Natural History’s website, the Hand of Greed was a statuette found in an Ancient Greek city. There were some general facts about when it was found, who discovered it, and how it came into the Museum’s care. The Wikipedia page elaborated more on the lore behind the dark statuette, though.

According to random people on the internet, the Hand of Greed had been found by Ancient Greek farmers after a lightning storm in a graveyard. Which then led Danny to a dead end on his brief dive into detective-ing, something his growling stomach was happy to see.

...

Jason landed hard on the roof across from the museum, rolling into a light jog as he shook off the pain racing through his knees. He could see the top of his targeted building, stopping at the edge of the rooftop he was occupying to try and get a better view.

He needed to figure out what caused the alarm to trip on the building in the first place. It didn’t seem like the type of area one of the usual Gotham Rogue Gallery would target for any occasion. Maybe Catwoman, but Jason didn’t know of any jewels in any exhibit that she would try to steal. “Oracle, this is Red Hood.”

“This is Oracle - go ahead, Hood.” Barbara's voice filled Jason’s ears as he kept a moving eye on the building across from him.

“Do you have any information on who might’ve broken in? I can’t think of anything Catwoman would try to get her hands on.”

A thoughtful hum came from the other side of the transmission. “I’m looking at the CCTV footage now. The person who broke in is still inside, and appears to be wearing a dark outfit along with a white hood. White accents as well - whoever it is, they’re not one of our usuals.” 

Jason cocked his head, body lighting up with adrenaline. “Roger, going in now. Might as well figure out who it is.” Aiming his grapple gun towards a secure part of the museum’s building, he triggered the mechanism with a satisfying pop and whirr. With a practice ease, he jumped off the rooftop, soaring above the late-night foot traffic with a small thrill. His shoulder protested the movement, still sore from the earlier tussle Jason had gotten into. 

...

Hope you all enjoyed the sneak peak! If everything works out in my favor, chapter four should be up by Monday or Tuesday :)

[sigyns-drafts]

Can you please do a Smite Persephone X Hades story where Hades is walking around the Underworld and sees a few new plants growing. He follows them and meets Persephone from there

A/N: Yes of course anon! I'd love to write about those two, especially from smite! Thank you for the idea starter ♡

In whistling spirits can be growth🥀☠️

Smite! Persephone x Hades

➩ Hades finally gets a day off from the battlefield and decided to spend it well. As he takes a stroll through his underworldy kingdom, trying to not be bothered by the spirits of his domain, he sees a familiar flower.

One Persephone must have created. Curiosity gets the best of him and he follows it, leading him to find persephone in a secluded corner of his realm. What was she doing there?

➩ Reader type: none.

⚠: Romantic Fluff!!

Hades, the god of the underworld, had decided on taking a stroll through the shadowed corridors of his realm.

Relieved to have a moment of peace from the usual battles and disputes he had to endure up above the underworld with the other gods and the many different pantheons.

He felt himself even get a headache just imagining what they could be up to at that moment. At least he was not involved.

The echoes of the lost souls whispered around him as he floated along his dark halls, with dimly lit candles upon the wall so he was able to navigate where he was going.

"Lord Hades.."

"Hades, hold on.."

Was all the god heard, weak and faint voices, before he swiftly moves his hand in a gesture to shoo the spirits away.

Ignoring them as it was practically his day off.

"Not now, my people..take it up with Thanatos. He'll surely help you guys!"

But before the spirits could continue to nag their ruler or Hades, push further responsibility onto Thanatos.

A peculiar sound caught Hades's attention!

He turned around to find a row of eerie, whistling pink flowers with skulls nestled in the centre of their petals.

A faint smirk played on Hades' lips as he recognized them right away, the touch of his wife, Persephone had been here.

Intrigued, Hades followed the unusual trail of these particular blooms. The path led him to a secluded corner of the underworld, one he swore he didn't have.

Where Hades soom found Persephone, calmly tending to her morbidly charming garden. A strange unknown light source shines from above and down on her.

Making the moment Hades lays his eyes on her even more magical, than the first time he had seen his beautiful wife.

Persephone looked up with a mischievous glint in her own eyes, her red plump lips curving into a playful smile.

This causes the God of the dead, once he realized her gaze was on him, to gulp, his blush spreading across his face slightly. Hades's heart pounding hard in his chest.

"Hades, my love, fancy a stroll through my garden of the dead?"

Hades raises an eyebrow, his stoic demeanour slightly softened by the unexpected invitation, as well for his genuine love for love.

So this is what it was, a garden of the dead. Once an area Hades's hadn't known about until Persephone turned it into something rather nice.

"What mischief have you been up to now, my dear Persephone? This is the underworld..not a forest."

Hades cracks a small pun to calm his nerves which he was very good at masking at times.

Just like he had hoped the redheaded goddess laughs, elegantly covering her mouth with her long & pale hand.

"Just adding a touch of life to the afterlife isn't that bad now, is it. Care to join me in some gardening husband?"

Hades, surprised and very much intrigued by the offer, reluctantly nodded in agreement.

He approaches his wife closer, floating over to her before slowly touching the cold, yet strangely grassy ground.

This was her doing for sure!

Hades stares at Persephone rather clueless, like a lost puppy.

Unsure of what he was supposed to do now, as he had never planted anything in his life before. All this causing Persephone's heart to skip a beat and almost melt into pieces.

To be a ruler of the underworld, Hades was usually so fierce looking and cold, not exactly the ideal person you'd approach at first sight.

But he really was just a naive big silly dog at heart! The goddess was convinced.

Persephone, as a start hands Hades a skeletal bloom of her creation, and they're set to start working.

"Listen Hades, it's simple! Just dig in the ground and place it gently in.."

However, Hades, despite following persephone's instructions, fumbled with the delicate task. Somehow failing miserably with it.

"This is not my domain, Persephone. I rule over the dead, not flowers.."

Hades sighs, feeling defeated, watching the bloom of persephone's creation whistle away to nothing but just the skull.

Persephone chuckled lightly again, actually taking pity on her husband and appreciating his best efforts.

"Fear not, my love. Gardening is an art, even in the realm of the dead. Allow me to show you the way once more."

With a detirmend glimmer in her eyes, one she knew would bring Hades's spirit back up again.

Persephone gently took Hades' cold dark hands and guided him in the intricate dance of planting, as well as nurturing.

Hades, surprisingly compliant, followed her lead like an eager apprentice.

His eyes watched in awe at what they were able to do together as a team!

"See, it's all about gentleness and patience. The dead can bloom just as beautifully as the living~"

Hades, caught up in the unexpected joy of the moment, found himself smiling.

"You're so right, sweetling! Thank you!!"

Together, they transformed the once lonesome and desolate corner of the underworld into a garden that gave the underworld a glimpse of life.

As they worked side by side, Persephone couldn't help but appreciate the rare moments of warmth and connection with her beloved Hades.

Even in the depths of the underworld, where the winters were the coldest!

[memento-morianon]

Happy storyteller saturday! I was scrolling your worldbuilding tag and love the asteroid moons, so: are there any myths or religious holidays, rituals, etc, anything about them in general or that your central ocs take part in?

The moons! Oh yes, they're deeply relevant to pretty much every spiritual culture in my world. They're paired with the arc, which is a planetary ring visible in pretty much every part of the world. The arc is typically viewed as a road between the world of the living and the realm of spirits, and the three moons are viewed as guardians, guides, and/or judges of the dead. So most every culture has some tradition of using the moons as a conduit to communicate with spirits.

One of my two main protagonists, Evarin, follows gnomish religious traditions quite faithfully. She has an altar in her home that bears symbols for every entity in gnomish belief. The sun, the mountain, the water spirits, and the moons. She has a bit of a fancier and more modern altar, so it contains a small fountain on the side, and the moons are curved pieces of glass arranged on a representation of the arc. They can be moved and aligned to focus sunlight in order to burn incense sticks placed in a hole on the top of the stone altar. She does this every time she prays, as the incense is meant to be an offering to the sun. Her culture sees the moons as underlings of the sun, watching over the dead while the sun watches over the living.

It's traditional for gnomes to invoke the guidance of the moons at funerals, wishing the dead a safe journey. They do not speak the name of the dead for a set period of time, usually corresponding with the movement of the smaller moons, to avoid calling their spirit away from the path to the afterlife. But if they do need to speak with the dead, they always have to call on the moons first to gain permission and open a path for the spirit to reconnect with the mortal world.

At the beginning of the main story, Evarin prays to the moons to guide an elderly orc named He-esh to the afterlife, even though he is obviously not a gnome and his people believe that their souls are guided to the afterlife by their ancestors and the bald ravens they call the takran. Orcs do believe that the moons guard the dead and that the moons can open a path between the mortal and spiritual realms, but they do not call on the moons to guide their dead. This prayer from Evarin is simply a display of how much she cares about He-esh, who was her mentor in the ancient language she uses to perform vocal magic as a medical singer.

My other protagonist, Morianon, is rather areligious. He was raised by elves and is part elf, but since he is also quetzalin and mostly looks like one, he doesn't connect well with elvish religion. He also has some personal and private reasons to avoid believing in any gods or calling on spiritual entities. But he does sometimes stand out on his balcony at night and stare up at the moons, feeling safer under their light. He had a terrible early childhood, much of which he can't even remember properly, but he does at least remember that the moons were a symbol of safety to him back then.

And to end on a humorous note: Evarin's mother, during the funeral party for He-esh, also invokes the guidance of the moons for someone. But she doesn't do it kindly. He-esh's eldest son Ikar is kind of a terrible person, like the racist uncle no one wants to invite to holiday dinners. He causes a ruckus and gets banished by his sister Th'elir, and then Evarin's mother Tawei says something like "may the moonlight guide him home", which is essentially the gnomish equivalent of a very strong "bless your heart" from a southerner. Invoking the moons' guidance for a dead person is normal. Doing it for someone who is still alive and seems to be perfectly healthy and nowhere close to dying of natural causes is a severe insult upon that person and seen as a curse of terrible bad luck for them, if not an outright death wish. He did insult her entire family in his drunken rant, so I'd say she has the right to curse him.

[michpat6]

“I am your…guide, I suppose is the best way to say it,” It says, Saria’s voice smothered by the simmering magic in its words, “I make you comfortable, give you something recognizable, and help you move on to the afterlife, but I’ve grown tired. It’s time for me to retreat to the heavens and report all that I’ve learned to the Three.”

“The Three?” he asks, “You mean-”

“Din, Farore, and Nayru, yes.”

“What does this have to do with me?”

Something like sympathy enters Not-Saria’s eyes, green except for the way the refracting light of the forest turns them kaleidoscopic. “The Sacred Realm cannot be left unsupervised, and they’ve chosen you as my replacement. You’re going to help future Heroes reach their peace.”

OR

The Hero of Time rises from the grave, a skeleton in a suit of armor, and is given one last task.

OR OR

my first fic of 2024!!