livin-life675

[livin-life675]

I don’t actually care if this works, just outgun out good vibes

good things will happen 🧿

things that are meant to be will fall into place 🧿

[livin-life675]

I just finished two, drastically different romance books, and I came to a realization.

The wild, passionate love most romance stories, and movies, portray is good, amazing at times. The wild passionate speeches in the rain, the running through air ports before the other leaves, and the burning need for each other is amazing.

But I have found that the quiet romance is so much more. The fact that they know how their partner takes their drink, the seeing a cute animal and having to show their partner. Coming down for breakfast and realizing that they never want another morning without one another. That is the romance that just kills me.

Because you can have wild passion and burning desire, but it is not often that you can find someone who you would be perfectly happy to wake up next to every morning, to have a quiet breakfast in. To just be happy, the two of you, for the rest of your lives.

#romance #opinion #i may need help #but this is more fun #fictional romance

[livin-life675]

Heaven is not a punch card.

I’m not really religious, but I recently had an interaction with the church due to a family event. And it made me think.

It feels like we are told by the church and those who believe in heaven that if we want to get in, if we don’t want to suffer for the rest of eternity, we have to preform good deeds, be good people by our actions, and those “good actions” are defined by the church. There is a set checklist, or punch card you have to fill out in order to go to heaven. And that’s just stupid to me.

I agree you should be a good person, but no one beach of church, organization, congregation, or social group should dictate what that is and what it means to you.

A church might ask me to shun my neighbor because they live a life of “sin”, (such as being LGBTQIA+), but that isn’t right. While they might agree that shunning someone is a “good action” I and a lot of people may not. The belief that there is a certain set of actions that you must take in order to be a good person deserving of heaven is ridiculous.

You should always strive to be the the best person you can, to put out and receive positive actions, to strive to better the lives of people, genuinely, and what is best for them, by their decisions.

That should be the “requirement” to go to heaven, to not be tortured for the rest of time. Not some set of checklist or card punch.

Just be a good human being, that is all the world asks of you.

#religion #discussion #needs to be said #stop shaming people #heaven #talk of death

[livin-life675]

Okay, so I read this awesome fan fiction of MHA on AO3, and can no longer find it. It was a decently long one, and when the USJ was attacked, most of the class turned the school bus into a plane like thing with Uraraka holding the bus up with her quirk, and I believe Mineta driving. They attached wings to the bus. The teachers learn of the attack when they somewhat crash at UA’s main campus. Does anyone have the name of the fan fiction? Again, it would be on AO3 and rather long.

#ao3 fanfic #mha fanfiction #baku no hero academia #anime #question #fanfic finder #fanfic #what’s it called #help plz

[livin-life675]

#ao3 stuff

[livin-life675]

Completely true.

reblog if you’ve read fanfictions that are more professional, better written than some actual novels. I’m trying to see something

[livin-life675]

Obviously, the proper answer to this problem is, ditch your phone and leave the country :)

In all seriousness, take care of yourselves whatever that might be. I know I hate loud, emergency sounds, and definitely unexpected ones.

hey btw if you're in the USA at  2:20 p.m. ET on Wednesday, Oct. 4, they're testing the emergency broadcast system. your phone is probably going to make a really loud noise, even if it's on silent. there's a backup date on the 11th if they need to postpone it.

if you're not in a safe situation and have an extra phone, you should turn that phone completely off beforehand.

additionally, if you're like me, and are easily startled; i recommend treating it like a party. have a countdown or something. be surrounded by your loved ones. take the actions you personally need to take to make yourself safe.

i have already seen mockery towards any person who feels nervous about this. for the record, it completely, completely valid to have "emergency broadcast sounds" be an anxiety trigger. do not let other people make fun of you for that. emergency sounds are legitimately engineered to make us take action; those of us with high levels of anxiety and/or neurodivergence are already pre-disposed to have a Bad Time. sometimes it is best to acknowledge that the situation will be triggering for some, and to prepare for that; rather than just saying "well that's stupid, it's just a test."

"loud scary sound time" isn't like, my favorite thing, but we can at least try to prevent some additional anxiety by preparing for it. maybe get yourself a cake? noise cancelling headphones? the new hozier album? whatever helps. love u, hope you're okay. we are gonna ride it out together.

#secret agent? #nah just anxiety

[livin-life675]

Hell yeah, but maybe less death and more torture?

reblog to violently explode a trans kid’s transphobic teacher

[livin-life675]

So…how old do you have to be to have the “retro TV” category on Netflix to be what you watched when you were a kid? Because either Netflix needs to rethink what retro is, or I need to rethink how old I am 🤷‍♀️

#netflix #retro tv #I’m old #wth #when did that happen

[livin-life675]

Do you know what I fucking hate? The shit some celebrities get. I understand not liking celebrities for their personalities, what they’ve done in regards to crimes or how they treat others, when it is legitimate. But what I hate is when people are cruel and awful just to spew hate. When a celebrity doesn’t like paparazzi, or when they are just out trying to be humans and not wanting every single fan in a ten mile radius to descend upon them like a pack of wolves. I get that they chose the spotlight, and being the center of the public sometimes, but god, can we just let them be human without turning them into villains? I’m sick of people jumping down celebrities throats when they became anything but a Saint, even when they are being smashed by a crowd all insistent on interacting with them when they just want a day for themselves. I’ve seen people get mad that celebrities don’t want to take a picture or sign something, and I just have to think “you know that they don’t owe you anything, right?”

And when celebrities eventually snap, because they will (which is completely human and fine), everyone gets all up in arms and upset, blaming the celebrities. Like no Jared, I think they snapped because you shoved a camera in their face anytime they stepped out of their house, not to mention the “insider photos” that may or may not be around. And that’s not even getting into the stupid rumors gossip mags spread

Just leave them the fuck alone. If they have a day where they intentionally interact with fans, great! If they are trying to shop with sunglasses and a hat while trying to stay under the radar, leave them the fuck alone.

End rant.

#celebrities #rant #leave them alone

[livin-life675]

If you're reading this...

go write three sentences on your current writing project.

[livin-life675]

The fact that this is reality is really sad. I am so sorry forgotten fics

[livin-life675]

I was reading this Danny Phantom x My Hero Academia crossover and here are some of my favorite highlights

Obviously the ship is Danny/Denki and it’s labeled as Denny /pos

And like any Danny Phantom fic, there’s trauma :3

[livin-life675]

Light The Match, Watch It Burn

Everything was prepared. All files sent, all confessions recorded. His belonging have already been shipped and he had received confirmation that the house was set up, all of his specifications set up and even a set of chocolates thoughtfully put out along with a nice bottle of sake, even though he was much to underaged to even think about touching it. All that was left to do was light the match and watch the ensuing chaos. It would be a spectacle.

It would be the last actions of Izuku Midoriya after all.

Looking out of the window, you wouldn’t guess that this was the day that sent Japans society crashing around the citizens mulling around. You would see the bright sun and comment on how it was going to be, even as the last of the fog was burned away. Maybe you’d be one of the citizens on your way to work and pondering what to have for dinner that night and if you should stop for groceries or just order out. You certainly wouldn’t look at the green haired middle schooler, now almost high schooler, and think he was about to completely rework the corrupt system that had been in place for decades. No, the most you would think is that he’s going to be late to school and really, what is his mother feeding him, he’s skin and bones. You certainly wouldn’t anticipate seeing him on the evening news that night.

But the newly implemented Midoriya laws would make it so you would never forget again. And you may not remember seeing him on the streets, but his childish face, a picture from his middle school days, with bruises and cuts peaking over the collar of his gakuran would stand out starkly, when it hangs in most building pertaining to law. When showed at least once a year on the anniversary of when Japan went to hell, his name starting off on the long list of children and others lost due to discrimination, bullying, and abuse. When the yearly documentary played across national television to show what happens when society fails and to never let it happen again.

But that isn’t this morning. There is no national remembrance days, there are no speeches from prime ministers, UA, the HPSC, or individual heroes. All that there is is the light of the spring morning. All that there are the citizens going to work like every other day. Only for the fact that that particular match hasn’t been lit yet.

Even so, the veridian eyed boy couldn’t have anticipated the sheer spread of his message, even with all of his calculations and analysis. After all, he’s still a fiften year old boy.

***********************************************************

Izuku closes his bedroom door for the last time, the only things remaining being the less pricy All Might merchandise, his school uniforms, bar one, and a small envelope containing a small amount of cash and a note resting on the top of a laptop. It was a weird feeling, closing his child bedroom and knowing he would never return, and knowing that by the end of the day, it would most likely be torn apart by the police and maybe a few select heroes, looking for clues. Only a few would know that nothing of true importance would be found. That the room was never where Izuku Midoriya lived, where he thrived. No, that belonged to a small workroom above a ramen shop downtown, rented out without the owners knowing the true use of the room.

The apartment was the exact same, everything placed where it belonged, not a speck of dust to be found. He always kept it that way, somehow still hoping vainly that Inko would see how well he took care of the place and somehow see something worthwhile in him. He knew by the bare fridge and cabinets that she hadn’t, because why would a waste of space need to eat? What good would it do to waste perfectly good food on someone like him? He was surprised that she hadn’t noticed the last time there was food in the house was months ago and it had been months before that that she gave him any money to buy some.

But he slipped on his shoes and picked up his bag knowing that at his new home, the fridge was already stocked, the cabinets bursting with food, and later that night expecting a massive feast to be delivered to the house.

After all, it wasn’t often that your deathday and birthday were rolled into one.

He wondered if anyone remembered. He had a guess that there was a vase of spiderlilies waiting on his desk at school, it was what was waiting for him last year and the year before that. It was too bad that they would never be received. They would’ve been cut for nothing.

Izuku wondered if Bakugou and the rest of his bullies would feel vindicated, after all, he was doing exactly what they suggested, taking a swan dive off the roof. Well, not actually, but it would certainly look like it. Making his way into and then up the steps of a building to the room, he vaguely wondered how many of them would be charged and found guilty. He found he really didn’t care.

Opening the roof access door, he smiled at seeing the waiting man.

“Jin, thank you for coming. I know this job isn’t exactly typical for you,” Izuku finds himself saying, feeling confidence he didn’t know he had.

“Izuku-sama, you’re actually here. And you’re right, I’ve never made a clone this detailed before, didn’t even think about replicating internal systems,” Jin responds, voice slightly muffled through his mask.

“But you did it, right? I know its going to end up mostly squashed, but there’s a reason I sent those photos and notes. And anyway, Izuku is fine, no need for honorifics,” Izuku responds, numbly walking over to the unzipped, oversized dufflebag.

“It matches down to the last millimeter. And boss, honorifics stay. Although, you are sure you want to do this? You could maybe take it back, but its going to be a nightmare,” Jin asks, hefting the body out of the bag.

Seeing it splayed out on the roof was beyond unsettling for Izuku. It had his every scar, his every broken bone. The exact same skin tone, as well as eye and skin color. For all intent and purposes, it was Izuku Midoriya, beyond the fact that it had no actual working body systems as well as consciousness.

“Izuku Midoriya dies today, that isn’t changing, not now. It is beyond too late,” Izuku can’t help but reach up and touch his altered face, changed for a few hundred thousand yen in a backalley. With allowing for his naturally white hair to grow out, no one would know that he was once Izuku Midoriya.

“Alright, but why this place? There are much easier and more obvious places,” Jin asks, his voice remarkably clear. It seemed as if the therapist and antipsychotic medication Izuku had gotten him were helping.

“I’d call it for sentimentalities sake. This is where I nearly died for real. Lets just say when a certain someone finds out I chose this roof, and why, it’s going to be its own kind of revenge,” Izuku remarks, thinking back bitterly on the words All Might had shared.

“Alright, if you’re ready, we should probably get this over with, two people and a body on a roof is going to attract attention,” Jin says, already hefting the clone.

“You’re right,” Izuku says, reaching down for its legs.

Once again, he couldn’t help but think how much his future therapist will be making off of him, because no sane person hefts a copy of himself over the side of a building. And certainly not while both smiling manically and with tears streaming down his face as he watches the body fall, something between a sob and a laugh bursting out of his chest when he sees it pancake into a smear of red on the pavement below.

“So, whatever did you decide on for a name, boss?” Jin asks, scratching his head as the screams of the bystanders reaches their ears.

“Mikumo, Akatani Mikumo,”

“That’s a great name, but we should probably scram,” Jin notes, eyeing the access door.

“Probably,”

**************************************************

Three days later, Izuku watched the world metaphorically burn, the light of the tv casting shadows in the dark room. The two men beside him, watched as well, although they were more focused on the boy, one looking on in interest and the other following his master's lead.

“Mikumo, this is truly impressive,” The much older by centuries man comments, eyeing the pile of energy drink cans, somewhat concerned for the young boy.

“All I ever did was drag the truth out into the light. I hope I can take this as a conclusion to our deal? Both hero society and All Might are destroyed, and without a single death, beyond the present company of course,” Mikumo asks, and the older man can’t help but chuckle darkly.

“Yes, I can say that this concludes our deal. Oboro Shirakumo will be returned in whole and I will disappear without a fuss and without an attempt to return. However, I would like to add something to the deal, if I may see your hand?” The wheelchair-bound man asks and can’t help but chuckle at the distrusting gaze he receives.

“Nothing unsavory, of course. What you’ve accomplished is more than I could have imagined. I simply wish to give you a small gift in return,” The man says and Izuku can’t help the small smile on his face.

“Alright,” He says, holding his hand out.

“You won’t refuse? To have to live quirkless and then just receive a quirk?” The wheelchair-bound man asks and Izuku shrugs.

“I don’t really care, thats how all of this came about. I really didn’t care anymore. Maybe a year ago I would be offended at you thinking a quirk would ‘fix me’ but that isn’t what this is, is it? I know I can accomplish what I want without a quirk, I’ve seen what I can do, so all you giving me one of your quirks is, is showing your appreciation, which I can’t really find it in me to hate. So yeah, I’ll accept, and gladly,” Izuku finishes, shrugging.

It was true, if he thought for one moment the man was giving him a quirk because he thought he was useless without one, he might have turned him into his next project. But that wasn’t the reason. He was acknowledging what he had done already without a quirk, so it was more validating than any sort of an insult.

“You know, I made this deal to entertain myself, but I am truly impressed with what you have done. You have not only exposed the faults of society but helped expose my own. And that is no easy task. You took my reasoning, my entire ideology, and broke it down, ruthlessly. I can truly say I would never want to be your opponent,” A quick brush against his knuckles finished his speech, and Izuku felt something fundamental shift within himself.

“Even if you did not see this as the outcome, I’m glad we were able to work together, All for One. Although, you’ve seen what I can do to society, if you even think of going back on your side of the deal…” Izuku trails off, letting the threat hang.

“Of course. Oboro Shirakumo will be returned before the end of the day, and you as well as the rest of the world will not hear from me or my followers again. One quick thing before we go, I truly look forward to what you will accomplish in life, Akatani Mikumo,”

With that, Kurogiri warps them out of the room, leaving the boy alone. Izuku promptly deflates, the build-up adrenaline crashing. While able to put a somewhat brave facade up in the presence of the two men, he was severely unnerved. When he had originally decided what to do, All for One was completely unknown to him. He had no clue someone liked him existed. And yet, as he went on his mini warpath, they came across each other. If it had come to complete conflict, Izuku would have been torn to shreds, obliterated off the map before he was truely noted down.

Somehow, sleep deprivation and an unholy amount of caffeine had brought a confidence, as well as a plan, to him. Instead of arguing and fighting, he would accept the man known as All for One. Of course, not until Izuku made him realize his displaced anger. All he could think coming out of making his deal was to thank his past self for deciding to take that phycology class, and actually take in the information. But for all his bluster, if All for One decided to renege on the deal, there wasn’t a damn thing Izuku could do about it.

Deciding to melt back into his chair, he takes out the leftovers of his death day feast, wondering what exactly he was thinking when he ordered half of the restaurant menu. At least he could freeze most of the leftovers, and eat the ones that wouldn’t freeze well.

******************************************

Hours later, Izuku can say with all honesty he did not expect his phone to ring, why would he, only a few select people would have that number, and he specifically told all of them that he didn’t want to be contacted for a few weeks, minimum.

But he also knew that those who did have his number wouldn’t be calling unless there was an actual emergency. That doesn’t mean he actually speaks when he answers, letting the static fill the air around him.

“Hello? This is Akitani Mikumo, is it not?” A small, high-pitched voice rings out, causing Izuku to huff, annoyance radiating out of him in waves.

“Principal Nezu, I was wondering how long until something like this happened. What do you want with me? And if you ask me to turn myself in, the obvious answer is no,” Izuku stands, starting to pace the luxuriously sized room.

“Now why would I waste a mind like yours on prison? No, Akatani-san, I would like to extend an invite for you to visit UA, it is after all practically the only institution you left untouched,” Nezu speaks over the phone and Izuku pauses.

“And what, you want to know why? I would think you would know yourself. You hire good people, follow through on the antibullying and anti-discrimination policies, and have a stellar record of graduates, barring a few from years past. The only thing I could fault you on was the fact that All Might would have become a teacher, although I know you fought tooth and nail against that and were strong-armed into his hire. While I’m sure you have your own shortcomings, both as an individual and as a school, it isn’t a level that would warrant my…attention,” Izuku finishes, voice turning hesitant.

He knew how smart, and ruthless, Nezu was, and would really not like to play with that particular fire. Although if there was an actual problem, he would.

“You misunderstand the purpose of my call. I would like to reach out with an offer of employment. You have worked on behalf of Izuku Midoriya to truly rip apart society, ruthlessly, and yet with justice. You have not just ripped everything apart, but also have shown a path back to a brighter future. I can particularly point to the case of Bakugou Katsuki. While he will be punished, he will be granted the opportunity to change and evolve as a person. That is a rare quality I do not see often. Besides that, you have a mind like no other that I have met, some of your plans and action are similar to what I would do,” Nezu continues, causing Izuku to freeze.

This…wasn’t exactly what he was anticipating the call to be. In fact, within moments of the phone call becoming traceable, he anticipated vengeful heroes to come breaking down his door. In actuality, he was left panicking, so Izuku did what he did best while panicking, he turned to sass.

“So what, I’ll become a janitor?” Izuku asks, flopping back into his chair, and retrieving the pack of gummy worms hidden in the cushion.

“I was thinking more along the lines of vice principal, but if you would like to become a janitor, who am I to stop you?” Nezu sasses back and Izuku can’t help but smile.

“While I appreciate the offer, I just lost a close friend, as you know. It’s sort of why everything happened. But maybe in the future,” Izuku finds himself saying, playing with a stray gummy worm.

“Very well, I look forward to that meeting one day,”

“I can’t say that I do, but it will certainly be interesting,” Izuku responds and hangs up before Nezu can say anything else on that subject or any other.

The day Izuku meets Nezu is the day that world domination is achieved. Izuku would rather keep the world where it was, at least for the moment. That's not to say he has at least seventeen different ways to take over the world.

*****************************************************************

At UA, Nezu slowly hangs up the phone, drawing out the torture of Aizawa Shouta. He says nothing for a moment, electing to take slow, measured sips of his tea.

“Well? What was Akatani like? Will you be enacting your plans?” Aizawa asks, already having experience with the wrath of the rat.

“No, I will not. But you might be interested in one thing,” Nezu lets it hang there, temping Aizawa into the murder of his boss.

“And that would be?” Even though Aizawa’s voice is deadpan, it is clear he is frustrated with the chimera's antics.

“Izuku Midoriya is not as dead as everyone believes,”

“So Akatani faked his death and hid him? I can’t blame him,” Aizawa huffs and Nezu cackles.

“Not so simple,”

It took Aizawa a moment to process the rat's words, and when it finally sunk in, the only thing he could bring himself to do is mutter a quiet, “Fuck” and flees from the office.

******************************************************

A month later, and Akatani Mikumo was looking up at UA, something between terror and excitement coursing through him. Although, it would never compare to the emotions that Aizawa was desperately attempting to hide behind his capture weapon.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look at prospective students like that,” Aizawa can’t help but jerk in surprise at his husbands voice.

“Zashi,” Aizawa says, voice heavy with misery, and once he’s close enough, Aizawa thunks his head onto Hizashi’s shoulders.

“What's up, baby? You look like you did back in high school, coming back from one of Nezu’s lessons,” Hizashi asks, carefully scratching Shouta’s scalp, mindful of its sensitivity.

“What would you think about me retiring early?” Shouta asks, somewhat relaxing into his husband's arms.

“I’d call your bluff. Seriously though, what happened?”

“There’s another Nezu, only he may actually be worse,” Shouta says, lazily pointing down at the now floating boy, caught no doubt by the brown-haired girl frantically waving around her arms.

“Another Nezu? And worse? I didn’t think that was possible,” Hizashi tries to joke and Aizawa groans.

“Try faking their own death and using it to systematically rearrange the social, political, judicial, and hero systems. Not to mention actually putting the plans into motion. While I am confident that Nezu had such plans, he never actually acted on them,” Shouta deadpans.

“Wha-Izuku Midoriya is down there?!” Hizashi quickly abandons his husband to fling himself at the window, face plastered to the glass in an attempt to spot the declared dead boy.

“No, Akatani Mikumo is down there. Izuku Midoriya has been declared dead and his cremated body is awaiting to be interned in a new national monument. No, Akatani Mikumo, the fifteen-year-old boy who was responsible for his death and the subsequent changes to society is down there. And he is currently on his way to take the heroics exam for the school run by Nezu!” Shouta stresses and it finally dawns on Hizashi.

“Oh, shit,”

“So, retirement?”

#izuku mydoria #akatani mikumo #character death #but not really #bnha nedzu #principal nezu #eraserhead #shouta aizawa #present mic #my hero academia hizashi #my hero academia #smart izuku midoriya

[livin-life675]

John Constantine was at the end of his rope, literally and figuratively at the moment. He had maybe two inches from the frayed end as he gripped it for dear life, a roiling pit of red under him. He didn’t even want to know what was down there, all he knew was that it was demon magic and he could already feel it reaching out for him, trying to drag him down.

He had been a bloody idiot, falling for the trap hook, line, and sinker. He knew when he arrived at the old house that it stunk of old magic, but had wrongly, or rightly, assumed that it was the work of the ancient text he was hunting down. Sure, part of the huge aura was the text, but it mainly came from the hell pit lurking under the rotten floorboards

And then the trap had been sprung, the book ripped away from him, the floorboards disintegrating under him, and he left with only seconds to cast a spell, a binding one he had truly cocked up judging by the rope he held instead of being temporarily bound to this plane of the world instead of being drug down to hell.

“Hang on! Sam, S-14, Tuck, shift him!”

A young, and distinctly American voice, calls out orders, echoing strangely in the house. John as a second to process this before thick vines, with strange glowing flowers, wrapped around his middle and yanked him from the pit, flinging him across the study.

As he goes airborne, he is able to catch a glimpse of a group of three kids, because they couldn’t be older than twenty. Two boys, and a girl, all with a haze of green surrounding them, the pale, black-haired boy the brightest. All three stunk of death magic, something that immediately put John on alert.

And then he was landing in a pile of the same, glowing green flowers, and his view was blocked by the sheer volume. He can’t even move to see what is going on, something holding and cocooning him, although it didn’t feel malicious, and judging by the fact that he could feel the deep ache in his bones retreating, something was healing him.

The sounds of a fight rang out for a few moments before everything fell silent, and the oppressive demonic energy disappeared, along with the sound of the vortex. Slowly, the flowers receded around him, allowing him to scramble up from the floor.

The group of three seemed to be doing a celebratory chitchat, hi-fives, and compliments all around. It was utterly annoying, but it did give John a moment to take in the trio. The first one he noticed was the pale, black-haired boy, just for the sheer amount of death magic still radiating off him, while the other two were more muted now. He was built like a swimmer, lean, but strong, and with that jawline and blue eyes, he was doing a great impression of a Wayne. Tracing up his arm, through his shirt sleeve, and arching around his neck was a lichen burn, death magic radiating from it.

The next obvious was the goth, the dark-haired girl who had saved him from the pit with the vines. Dressed in a pair of ripped, black jeans with a black t-shirt, she was the most unique looking one out of the lot, with black tattoos of vines and flowers going from her fingers, up her arms, under her shirt, and even up her neck, parroting the black-haired boy's scar, except that she had designs on both arms.

The last of the trio was the remaining boy, hair hidden under a beret. He was dressed similarly to the other two, in casual jeans and t-shirts. As John was learning, each had a specific thing unique to them, and it appeared that his was the elaborate designs around his eyes, dark but still able to almost blend into his natural skin color. Each of the tattoos, and the scar were radiating death magic, and it made John incredibly uncomfortable.

“Hey, are you okay? I know we cut it a bit close,” The blue-eyed boy asks, noticing how shaken John feels, his face morphing into concern.

“Cut it close!? What the bloody hell are three Americans doing here?!” John splutters, preparing a set of spells…just in case.

“Saving your ass apparently,” The girl snarks, crossing her arms with an unimpressed look on her face.

“And we’re technically not Americans anymore,” The blue-eyed boy explains easily, seeming far to relaxed for fighting off a demon and closing a portal to hell.

“Yes you are! What are you doing here?! Did that old bat hire you as well?” Constantine demands, magic building in his hands.

“One, stop it with the magic shit, it won’t do anything to us. Two, no, the “old bat” didn’t hire us. We were traveling close by when Danny felt the demon magic, and since it really doesn’t belong here, came to investigate,” the girl snaps, and the blue eyed boy places a placating hand on her shoulder.

“Sam, relax. He’s probably still running high on stress, you would too if you were nearly sucked into hell,” the Wayne bait boy looks to Constantine, face apologetic.

“Sorry about her, we haven’t had great interactions with magic users in the past. If we could just get that book and go, we won’t bother you anymore,”

“Not fucking likely! My find, my book,” Constantine exclaims, holding the book closer to his chest.

And suddenly, the easy going attitude of the blue eyed boys vanishes, eyes melting from an ice blue into a bright, Lazarus green. The carefree look is wiped off of his face and his mouth is set into a hard line, all trances of amusement gone.

“That book belongs to the dead and the gone. It does not belong on this mortal plane. I don’t care if you feel like playing around with a little magic, any mess you get into is yours, but that book belongs in the zone. Return it now, I am not asking,” the boys companions flank him, matching his suddenly intimidating aoura as death magic flares from all three.

Constantine had dealt with his fair share of magical beings and those capable of wielding the mystic arts. The spells and casting circles inside the book would give him an edge in his circles. But all of that experience told him that he did not want to tangle with the trio in front of him. Each one had been touched by death, cradled by it as a mother would hold a child, the blue eyed boy practically dripped in it.

He could maybe take one of them, with a lot of luck on his side. But all three? John Constantine was many things but an idiot was not one of them.

“Fine, what’ll you do with it?” John asks, throwing the book to the trio where the girl catches it.

“Returning it where it belongs,” the boy says, suddenly turning cheerful.

With a twitch of his hand, a glowing green rift forms in the air, death magic pouring out and nearly knocking Constantine on his ass. With one last wave from the blue eyed boy, and a matching set of glares from the other two, all three walk into the portal, the air stitching itself back up behind them.

Without even an incantation, the boy had opened a portal to the infinite realms, and had walked through, without hesitation. Constantine didn’t know a single person who could open a portal so effortlessly, let alone walk through, and certainly not with two companions.

“Bloody fucking hell, I need a drink,”

#danny phantom #john constantine #death magic #infinite realms #sam manson #tucker foley

[livin-life675]

I just realized something. Humans seem fascinated with pain. My jaw hurts right now, and even if it hurts, I keep poking at it. I know it will hurt, it’s painful and unpleasant, but I still. Keep. Poking. At. It.

Imagine if aliens saw a human poking at an injury, maybe just a small cut at a work station, or maybe a dislocated knee or something in a Med Bay.

Alien (Sanorah): “Human Jane, why do you keep touching your injury? Does it provide some sort of healing?”

The human looks up, frowning. They had been distracted by a holo vid while recovering and wasn’t paying attention to anything but the shitty reality holo they were watching. Sanorah had taken it upon xerself to keep Jane company as she served her 72 hour observation in the Med Bay. Because even if Jane had said the accidental phaser fire didn’t hurt her badly, it was still policy.

Jane: “Um, I guess I didn’t notice?”

Sanorah: “You did not notice? I am aware that you are on pain medication, but perhaps it needs to be adjusted,”

Jane: “Oh! No no, it’s not like that. Have you ever picked at a scab before? It hurts but you can’t stop because it’s almost fascinating?”

Sanorah: “No, I do not. Do you need to see a counselor? They are available to all crew at anytime,”

Sanorah seemed genuinely concerned. Xer had already felt remorseful about injuring xers crew mate before, but now it seems as if xer has driven Human Jane to more self destructive then humans already were.

Jane: “No no, it’s not like that. A lot of humans do that. It’s just an odd thing humans do I guess,”

Xer was even more concerned. The humans had always been odd. But to deliberately poke at an injury just because they find the pain entertaining, to not even realize they were doing it, was another level of concerning.

Humans were truly odd, Sanorah decided. But xer was still thankful that human Jane was apart of her crew. 

#humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #humans being humans #pain #humans are weird #humans are space australians

[livin-life675]

Spirit Guide

Constantine is showing Billy Batson how to use magic (after discovering the kid doesn't have a mentor and again, IS A KID), they are entering into "Black Magic" and all that, Constantine is moraly grey so Billy don't care.

For practice they summon a Spirit to help Billy with his next classes, Constantine expected it to be dangerous cause you know, champion of magic and all that, but is surprised when into the summoning circle is a ¿Teen? (his age seems to change at times) in a hazma suit judging them. Honestly he is just happy Billy didn't summon a world threat (as far as he knows).

Billy explained Danny the situation and he accepted to help him with magic, he doesn't know a lot about it but can ask Desiree or Ghost Writer for knowledge. He also agreed in helping Billy when needed after heard about the "I am Captain Marvel/Shazam" mess and told him he is a protector spirit himself.

Constantine was amused cause that kind of ghost is rare, maybe the kid just have good luck. After that, Danny goes back and forth to Billy's lessons, helping him in both magic and being a kid hero (with some lessons about ghosts, dimensions and everything useful he can remember), he sees him as an apprentice of some kind. Billy even started calling him "Teacher Phantom".

He told Clockwork about it, completely proud of the boy's progress. Clockwork just judged him for not telling his supposed apprentice that he was the Ghost King but Danny didn't see the point in doing so.

Or at least, he didn't see the point of mentioning it until Constantine summoned the Ghost King for help with one of his subjects and as most of the heroes prepared to fight (cause this was supposed to be an unknown threat and probably hard to convince) Captain Marvel/Shazam was shocked and yelling "TEACHER PHANTOM?"

Which of course made Constantine curse his luck as the league misinterpreted everything. Danny might have made a miscalculation or two, but he didn't want to lose their friendship or tell them he was immortal, he was cut off from humanity for a long time.