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luxaofhesperides · 6 months

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Accidental Bride Sacrifice ; requested by @starlightcat04!

Danny has long since gotten used to the feel of summonings. They don’t happen often, but sometimes the right components are put together to force him into answering, and he’d have to go as the new Ghost King.

Which no one told him was a thing! He hadn’t protested too much about the whole Ghost King deal when they finally told him about it after he graduated high school. It gave him a good excuse to ditch life in the living realm and not worry about college or a career, and let him really embrace his ghost side.

The summonings are a problem, though. They always feel staticky and bad, like a dumpster that just got struck by lightning. The taste of iron on his tongue, a clear sign of blood being spilled, lets him know that it would be one of end the world for us summonings, because some people can’t put in the effort to do it themselves, apparently.

But this time, the summoning feels different.

Danny pauses, eyes going unfocused in the middle of his conversation with Jazz. He had been looking forward to spending the week with her, now that she’s on winter break, but his luck is as bad as always.

“I’m being summoned,” he tells her, cutting off her rant about a transphobic professor she had.

“Oh, no. Do you need me to do anything? Should I go with you to beat up whoever it is that’s summoning you?”

Danny tilts his head to the side, considering. The taste of blood is noticeably absent. In fact, this summoning pull doesn’t make him feel sick at all. It makes him feel warm, as if he’s just been wrapped in a hug.

“No,” he says. “I think I’m good. This one feels different.”

“A good different?” Jazz asks, worry clear in her voice.

“Yeah. A good different. I’ll come back soon, okay?”

“Alright. Be careful, Danny.” Jazz pulls him into a quick hug, then steps back to watch as Danny stops fighting the pull of the summoning and disappears into a swirling white rings that flashes into existence behind him, blinding her for a moment, and is gone when she manages to blink the spots out of her vision.

For a minute, Danny drifts in a void of stillness, traveling through the realms as the summoning draws him closer to the correct realm. And then he’s rising out of the ground in a dark building made of concrete, candles of green flame scattered all over the place.

“Great One!” someone in a hooded cloak cries, raising his arms in jubilation. “Our calls have been answered!”

“I’ll fucking kill you!” a mechanical voice yells from farther back. When Danny looks past the cultists’ heads, he spots a man in a red hood and leather jacket chained to a pole, along with a bunch of other people in strange costumes tied up, desperately trying to free themselves.

“Silence!” The leader of the cult, or who Danny assumes is the leader, snaps at the hooded man and gestures to the people off to his left. They force another costumed person forward, this one in yellow armor. He can see the blood running down their face from beneath their helmet and from their nose, dark lines of blood cutting through their brown skin.

The cultists throw the armored person forward, forcing them to kneel. Then they bow to Danny and step back.

“Great One,” the leader says, voice unpleasantly reverent and grating, “Welcome to the mortal realms. We offer you this sacrifice to feed your strength. He will make a fine general for your undead army in your crusade to rid this world of its filth.”

The people in the back begin shouting all together, panicked voices overlapping, and Danny is left staring down at the cultists in shock.

The summoning had felt so nice. What the hell was this? He did not sign up for another ‘end of days’ insane cult. He just wanted to be hugged.

His silence makes the cultists nervous. They begin to shift uneasily, whispering to each other, and the leader clears his throat, then pulls a large crystal dagger out of his cloak. “We shall prove our devotion to you through an offering of a hero’s blood!”

And then he moves towards the sacrifice and Danny snaps out of his shock to yell, “Wait!”

The entire room freezes. Even the costumed people in the back go still.

Danny winces, then tries to smother his power, make himself more palatable to the humans of this dimension. “Wait,” he says again, and he sounds closer to human now. If he could, he would drop his ghost form entirely, but he knows better than to endanger himself like that. “What, exactly, did you summon me here for?”

The cult leader stares at him for a moment. “To… To rid the world of filth and allow your loyal followers to spread word of your power. You will be worshiped again, Great One, and serve as a reminder to man that Death shall always prevail.”

“Okay, I get that, but I was talking more along the lines of the summoning. What ritual did you use? What specifically were the summoning requirements?”

Normally, he’d be able to figure it out himself, but these cultists didn’t use a summoning circle. So they did something else, something less visible and therefore harder to figure out, in order to bring him here.

A woman standing off to the side speaks up, stepping forward hesitantly. “I had pieced together a few summoning spells from this book to bring you here. You had to accept our chosen sacrifice to your side in order for the summoning to work.”

“Hold up that book for me, please?”

She does, and Danny flies down to grab it from her hands. “Point out which lines you used,” he says, already reading a few of the words written down. It’s definitely ghostspeak written down, which should be near impossible for living humans to translate without being skilled in magic.

“Ah, these ones.” She points to each line, reading them out for him, and Danny starts understand what, exactly, went wrong.

“Is there a problem, Great One?”

Danny returns the book then floats over to the sacrifice and picks him up. The costumed people make alarmed noises, but quietly quiet down again when all Danny does is move him away from the cultists.

“Okay,” he says, “So. The lines you used to summon me were not translated properly. What you interpreted as ‘accepted to stay by the king’s side in loyalty and strength’ is not meant to be, like, him being part of my undead army or whatever. It’s a royal marriage vow.”

“They married us?” the sacrifice shouts, disbelieving. The cult leader buries his face in his hands and sighs.

“My deepest apologies, Great One. We meant no offense. We simply wanted to aid in your destruction of this depraved world.”

Danny scrunches his nose and shakes his head. “Yeah, that’s not gonna fly with me. I do not do the biding of random people, especially those who are ready to murder innocent people for no reason. Frighty, if you would.” He snaps his fingers, calling up Fright Knight who always enjoys getting to torment the people who summon Danny for murderous reasons.

Fright Knight appears in a swirl of darkness and screams. Shadows swallow the room, and when they recede, no cultists remain.

“Thanks, Frighty. Have fun with them. I need to figure out all… this.”

Fright Knight bows to him, then disappears. Danny lets out a breath, then floats down lower to be eye level with the sacrifice. “Hey,” he says gently, with a smile, “I’m so sorry they did this to you. I’m Danny. What’s your name?”

“Du— Uh, Signal,” the sacrifice says, sounding rather dazed.

“Signal,” Danny repeats. “Like… a traffic signal?”

“No. I mean, maybe? But it is Signal. That’s my hero name, not my real name.”

“Oh, you’re a hero!” His getup makes more sense now. Danny checks him over for any signs of injuries. So far, only his head and nose seem to be injured, but his wrists are tightly bound behind his back. Carefully, Danny calls upon his ice and shapes it into a sharp knife, then cuts through the zipties.

He helps Signal up to his feet, floating by his shoulder. “All good?”

“Yeah, man, all good. Let me just get the others free.”

“Oh, I can do it!” Danny flies over to the other costumed people, who must also be heroes. All it takes is one link in the chain being frozen and broken for the entire thing to go lax, allowing them to free themselves. Hooded guy spares Danny a single glance, then hurries over to Signal to check on him. The other three, a man with a blue bird across his chest, a blond girl with a yellow bat outline on her chest, and a guy with bandoliers and a golden bird emblem, all watch him warily as he floats back towards the center of the room.

“So,” the blue bird man says, “If they summoned you with a marriage vow, and you accepted, does that mean you’re planning to steal Signal away from us?” He’s smiling, but it’s not a nice smile.

“No! I had no idea they did this! I am so sorry you all got caught up in this. You most of all, Signal.”

Signal shrugs, nudging hood guy away from him. “Nah, man, it’s all good. This is definitely the better outcome.”

“I don’t know, being married off isn’t really a good thing.”

“Hey, at least they married me off to a decent guy.”

“You don’t know that,” Danny says, “What if I’m secretly evil?”

“If you were secretly evil, you’d be destroying the world right now. I think you’re fine.”

The blond girl waves at him, demanding his attention. “Quick question! They were calling you ‘Great One’. Are you a god or something?”

“Not really? I’m the Ghost King. So I’m a ghost who rules over other ghosts and also a majority of the Infinite Realms.”

She nods as if this is all totally normal for her, then shoots Signal a grin. “Congrats on bagging a king! Not the worst way to spend a night, right?”

“Can you break the marriage?” blue bird man asks, the lines of his shoulders tense.

Danny awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, not looking any of them in the eye. “I honestly don’t know. I can look for a way! But I genuinely have no clue. This was unexpected.”

“But you accepted.”

“I didn’t know what I expected! It just felt like a hug, and I wanted a hug! I thought I was being summoned for something nice for once!” Danny curls up, bringing his knees up to his chest, and hides his pout behind his hands. He knows he’s being childish, but he can’t help but be upset that he couldn’t have this one good experience from being Ghost King.

It’s always responsibilities and death cult summonings and fighting ghosts who don’t think he should be king. Sure there have been some good things, but they’re comparatively few when looking at all the other stress and pain that comes with the crown. Sue him for wanting to have a nice night for once. Hell, at this point, he’d take being summoned to help with some kid’s homework, because at least then he could have a quiet night helping someone.

“Hey, man, can you come down here?” Signal asks.

He wants to stay out of reach, hiding himself away for a bit longer, but Signal is his new, surprise, accidental husband, so Danny lowers himself to the ground and peeks through his fingers to look at him.

He tenses when Signal hugs him, soft and warm and comforting. It takes a moment for him to realize what’s going on, and then he’s melting into Signal’s embrace, dropping his hands to wrap them around Signal’s back.

Distantly, he can hear the other heroes talking quietly amongst themselves. He blocks out the sound as much as he can, determined to enjoy this hug while it lasts.

Which is… fairly long. Signal makes no moves to end the hug, so Danny closes his eyes to really savor the moment.

“So,” Signal murmurs into his ear, “As newlyweds, how about we get to know each other a bit better before we start working on fixing all this?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Let’s ditch these guys and take some time to ourselves.”

“I promise I’ll get this fixed,” he says, just to make sure Signal knows. “Genuinely, I am so sorry to have married you through an old Realms vow when you had no say in it.”

“Hey, if it lands me a very nice, very attractive king, then I don’t mind at all. I could have done without the murderous cultists, though.”

Danny huffs out a small laugh. “Oh, for sure. Thanks for being so cool about this. Want me to fly us out of here?”

“Yes please,” Signal says. Danny smiles and tightens his grip on Signal, then lifts them both up. “I’ll see y’all later! Have fun with the rest of your patrols!” he calls out to the other heroes, who start shouting at him.

Danny flies them right out the roof before the other heroes figure out a way to kick his ass. The city they’re in is smoggy and dark, tall buildings rising up into the cloudy sky, and police sirens ring through the air. There’s no where that looks like a particularly nice spot to land for a conversation, so he asks Signal where he’d like to go and follows his directions from there.

They end up phasing through a building, then into the floor, which leaves them in what Signal calls The Hatch.

Danny takes a quick moment to freak out over being in a hero’s secret hide out, the composes himself and finally pulls away from Signal.

“So,” he starts, looking around The Hatch and taking in the giant computer, the workstation, the motorcycle farther down the way, “What did you—Woah!” Danny spins around, slamming a hand over his eyes the instant he realizes that Signal is taking off his helmet, leaving his face bare.

It’s not like he’d know who Signal is anyways, being from a different dimension, but it’s the principle of the matter.

Signal laughs when he sees Danny’s attempt to keep from looking at him. A warm hand wraps around his wrist and gently pulls it away. “It’s okay, Danny, you can look,” he says. “It would be pretty weird if my own husband didn’t know my face.”

Slowly, giving Signal to change his mind, Danny opens his eyes. He moves his gaze up, going from Signal’s armor to his face, his very cute face and his warm brown eyes, and Danny stares for a moment.

“Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi,” Signal says, fondness coloring his voice. “My name’s Duke. Are all Ghost Kings as cute as you?”

“Duke,” Danny repeats. “Hi. Um, no. The last one really sucked, actually, which is why I fought him. He was so bad the Infinite Realms didn’t want him anymore, so though I technically didn’t beat him in single combat, it was enough for the Infinite Realms to kick him out and get me on the throne.”

“Man, I can not wait to hear more of your stories. Think we got time for that while we search for a way to undo that marriage vow?”

Taking his chance, Danny says, “Sure! It’s a date.”

He’s awarded by Duke’s bright smile and idly wonders how long he can keep them married. Hopefully long enough for them to get into a real relationship where he can propose properly. And then he can get Jazz’s blessing too—

“Oh shit,” Danny realizes.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I need to tell my sister or she’s going to actually kill me.”

Duke winces. “And I should probably tell the others before Spoiler makes a mess of things… B is not going to be happy with me.”

They share a despairing look, already dreading the amount of scoldings they’re both going to get. He’s not looking forward to it.

“...Put it off until tomorrow?”

Duke nods. “Yeah. That’s a tomorrow problem. For now, how about a late dinner?”

“Sounds perfect.”

. . .

[send me a ghostlights prompt!]

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dpxdc fanfic #dp x dc fic #prompt fill #my writing #dukes pov is just: u're abt to be sacrificed. u're mildly concussed. a cute guy glowing like the north star saved u and is now ur husband #he's had a night but all in all it ended pretty nicely!#they're gonna work together and just hang out while trying to undo the marriage summoning ritual and find they're super compatible #and then in a few years they'll be marrying each other for real :)#thanks for the prompt!!

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bongo-clash · 2 years

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Peacock Au Part 3

(Part One & Two here!!!)

Continuation of the Eldritch Danny DPxDC fic!!!! This is Kind Of the final chapter but Bones has also been making my brain go So Wild with other ideas so!!! Big chance they'll be more parts at some point (probably after Ectober week if I do!!)

Either Way Here It Is

(Fic under cut!!) (+ Part 4 Here)

Constantine makes the executive decision not to explain anything to Batman until the other League members are gathered in the watchtower meeting room. Maybe not his best choice, evidenced for the most part by the seething glare the vigilante is shooting him from his place at the head of the table, but still, John really doesn’t want to have to talk about this any more than he has to. It’s already going to be a pain in his side as is.

It doesn’t take long for the rest to appear through the zeta tubes. Superman and Wonder Woman predictably arriving first of the lot, followed by Zatanna, the Flash, and then Green Lantern. Once they’re all settled and he figures this is all the people that’ll be showing up today, he deigns to begin speaking. He might’ve appreciated a bit of a higher attendance rate, but he’ll take it.

“Alright, you lot,” He starts, just as the Green Lantern opens his mouth, likely to ask what this whole meeting is for. “I believe we’ve got a little bit of a situation on our hands.”

“Situation how, Constantine.” Batman asks, eyes narrowed behind the cowl, the furthest thing from a question.

Constantine sighs deeply, fingers fidgeting in his coat pocket for a cigarette even if he knows he can’t smoke in the watchtower (maybe he could just hold one…). In lieu of looking the man in the face, however, he addresses everyone else in the room. “Well, see, the Bat here had a Pit forming in his territory, and he decided it’d be a bloody brilliant idea to call me for help instead of literally anyone else. The good news is the Pit’s gone. The bad news is I’m pretty sure the thing that got rid of it is worse.”

A few of them make faces, since if Constantine’s involved then this is definitely a magic problem, and none of them are fans of magic problems- Superman looks like he’s trying not to twitch. “Can you describe it?”

“Not properly, no. Big, bright, bit of a space theme going on? Had these horrible things on them, kept changing between eyes and mouths and hands- used those to reach out and get rid of the Lazarus Pit, ‘far as I could see. They knew I was doing it for the Big Bat even though I never said a word about it, and from what I understand, they wanted a favour for sorting it out. I don’t know what they want it for.”

Batman’s face is unreadable, but there’s a scrutiny there that permeates the air around him. “So you discovered the existence of a powerful, unknown entity, and not only did you deign to summon it into our world, but you then proceeded to make a deal with it as well, completely unaware of the potential consequences.”

“In my defence,” Constantine retorts. “This is entirely your fault for getting me involved. I’ve no clue why you thought coming to me was a solid plan in the first place.”

There’s a storm brewing beneath that bat mask, but Wonder Woman intercepts before it can descend into a full-blown argument. “Now is no time to be assigning blame, we need a plan. Do you know of any way we can attain more information on this being, Constantine?”

“Not the foggiest,” He replies simply. “The only thing the book said was that it could help with the Pits. When I asked the damn thing what it was, it just gave me a riddle and, quite frankly, I wasn’t going to push it. So unless Zatanna has anything, I’ve got nothing.”

The whole table turns to look at Zatanna. She has a contemplative look on her face, pausing for the moment presumably to run through the information in her head. “Well, there’s a lot of entities around whose existences centre on keeping the balance between realms or concepts, but this is the first I’ve heard about anything like this. The closest thing I could think of is maybe Pariah Dark, since he’s known to have a connection to the Lazarus Pits, but he’s been out of commission for centuries now, and he’s never been depicted at all the way you described…”

“…And I know for a fact that his summoning ritual requires a blood sacrifice, and this thing didn’t want blood.” Constantine finishes.

Zatanna makes a sour face, seeming to understand his implications, and the remaining non-magic members of the JL look appropriately disturbed. He thinks the worst thing about it for them is probably that there’s no real way to plan this out. They’ve got no power list, no strengths, no weaknesses, they don’t even really know what the entity is beyond its relation to the Lazarus Pits and even that’s an area of questionability, because the Pits are damn confusing on their own. If this thing shows up on them now, they’re screwed.

And just as the thought crosses his mind, there’s a tangible shift in the watchtower atmosphere, like the air’s thinning and closing in on itself at the same time. He looks at Zatanna with matching confusion, praying to gods he’s never met and that don’t like him that he hasn’t just managed to jinx himself in the worst way possible.

“Do you feel that?” He says, and it doesn’t look like it’s only the other magic user in the room that does, because a fair few of the remaining League are pulling expressions Constantine really doesn’t like. Please, please say he hasn’t jinxed himself.

There’s a sound like whale song and whistling as something comes up through the floor, and there’s not enough languages on Earth or beyond to encapsulate how many swears John wants to say right now.

But it’s not the entity.

Or at least, it doesn’t look like the entity, even if it certainly feels like it. It kind of looks like a teenager, of all the awful things. They have flare-white hair, bright, sheepish green eyes, and they’re wearing what Constantine thinks is a hazmat suit but doesn’t know enough about hazardous material protection to say for certain. No alarms going off, no doors opening or shutting, no signals at all; just a weird breeze, and the few seconds of warning that gives before the being appeared. That’s worrying. The way the League doesn’t even say anything is more so.

“Hi,” They start, after what feels like an eternity of silence, and oh boy, they really do sound about twelve. Constantine doesn’t know how to deal with children, let alone ones that can just phase into the most secure superhero base in Earth’s orbit. This is awful. “Okay, so, I feel like we got off on the wrong foot yesterday, so I just wanted to, y’know, rectify my first impression? Uh, sorry if I came across sort of… weird.”

Everyone looks at the glowing kid. Everyone looks at each other. No one knows what to say. Flash decides to be the one to break the silence with a cough. “That’s great, kid! Uh… who are you, though?”

“Oh!” They startle. “Right. Me and Constantine met yesterday- I think I kind of scared him? It was by accident, though, I promise! I’d just had a long day, y’know? I didn’t know I was gonna get summoned and I wasn’t thinking so everything just kind of happened.”

No way.

No. No way in Hell.

“You are not that thing I summoned yesterday.”

And he knows, he knows entities like that tend to have forms more palatable for mortal eyes, but after seeing that yesterday, his brain just cannot for the life of it connect it to this. This child floating mid-air in a base he shouldn’t be able to access, with big huge earnest eyes and a painfully youthful face. One that seems to have reached a realisation.

“Ah,” He says, smile just a little bit wry. “Fair enough, I did look kinda different then. Just- here, this should look a little more familiar?”

It’s not a full shift. He doesn’t contort into the same mind-searing thing that Constantine had had to bear yesterday- but his eyes scatter into neon spots across his face, nose and mouth left intact, the neck of his jumpsuit folds into the creases of an open eye, and those peacock-membrane-whatevers fall into fruition on his back, drifting like a cape or like spines. And just to top it all off, there’s a dinky little crown floating above his head, decorated with icicles and whispers of mist.

It’s not a full shift, but Constantine’s never going to forget those damn cosmic peacock feathers. No mistaking it: that’s the entity. Forget yesterday, this is the worst day of his life.

“What the Hell is happening right now.” Green Lantern flatlines, face dulled into non-understanding. Constantine thinks he feels the same way but worse.

He takes a deep, cleansing breath, and tries not to scream. “You’re the one who sorted the Pit problem out?”

“Uh, yep, that’s me.”

“Okay, great! Fantastic. Can you tell me what the Hell that whole deal was?”

What’s left of the maybe teenager’s face drops somewhat, and a gloved hand reaches up to rub at the back of what’s left of his neck. “Ha, right, yeah sorry.” He mumbles, and Constantine kind of feels bad, but he’s also still kind of suffering from the adrenaline high of meeting the guy yesterday, so he guesses they’re even now.

“So, I mean, I don’t usually look like that? It is my true form or whatever, but I’m not really… I don’t hang about in it too often. Gives people the heebie jeebies, y’know? I don’t want to scare people out of nowhere, especially not for a first meeting! But I was about to go to sleep last night when you summoned me, and I wanted to shift my form a little just to be more formal about the whole thing, but I guess I let the whole thing go by accident, and I didn’t realise at all until I got home. And if I was in that form by accident- I usually go with ghostspeak during summonings ‘cause it’s easier in that way and there’s usually translation sigils embedded in the circle- but if I was in that form by accident, then I was probably using a different dialect to the one I thought I was, so if I sounded kind of off, then that’s why. Again, really sorry about that. This was totally not how I wanted my first impression with the Justice League to go. You’re all really cool, y’know? I wanted to get off on the right foot and not the ‘let’s fight each other’ foot.”

Constantine blinks, opens his mouth, closes his mouth, and then blinks again. He’s sure there’s a reasonable response to this that can be expressed in a sentence somewhere, but right now he’s too enamoured with how utterly absurd this is. He genuinely, honestly does not know what’s worse: that this kid can turn into that, or that he can turn into that and it’s so natural he doesn’t even notice.

Still, as consistent as the sun sets, Batman’s the first one to break the stupor, interjecting with narrowed eyes. “How do we know you’re not a threat to us? We don’t even know who you are.”

“Uh,” The kid splutters. “I didn’t introduce myself. My name’s Danny.”

“Danny.” Batman replies flatly.

“It’s a nice name!” Danny, apparently, defends, looking about as stupefied as someone can without eyes on their face. The dinky little crown drifts after him when he moves his head. “And, um, I don’t know how to prove I’m not a threat? I mean, I closed up that Lazarus Pit for you, if that counts as being helpful in a non-threatening way?”

If anything, Constantine would think that makes someone more threatening. “You said you wanted a favour for it, that you were going to ‘find your recompense’.”

“No I didn’t?” Danny says incredulously, before he pauses and his lips part in an O. “Right, translation error, duh. I uh, didn’t actually say that, that’s just how the sigils took it I think. You don’t owe me anything. It might be nice to get some help if I’m ever in a bind or something, but we didn’t make a deal or a pact or anything, you just asked for help, so I helped.

His brain completely shuts down, blue-screen style. This isn’t how this type of thing goes. There’s no way this is that easy. “You seriously don’t want anything.”

“I mean, an autograph might be nice. My friend thinks you and batman are cool.”

“You don’t think the rest of us are cool?” Flash complains, because that’s exactly what he’s supposed to be getting out of this conversation and not how utterly insane it is.

Danny, the kid that’s going to be giving him nightmares and is already giving him migraines, has the audacity to look embarrassed. “I think you’re cool; obviously you’re all cool, you’re the Justice League! My friend’s just into the edgier members, I guess? She’s goth.”

“Oh? So who’s your favourite?” Why is no one acknowledging that the incomprehensible cosmic horror just called him edgy. Why are they just moving past this.

“…Martian Manhunter and Green Lantern. I really like space.”

Yeah, no shit, he’s made of it.

Constantine genuinely wants to pass out. He wants Batman to get him over the head with a batarang; he wants Superman to tap him on the forehead and give him a concussion, just- anything not to be here right now. This might not even be the weirdest thing that’s happened to him, but he’s hating every minute of it. This kid’s talking and existing like it’s nothing but even as the conversation begins to border on casual the atmosphere is still thick, nearly physical with the chill and the chiming of bells and the way something shifts every time those peacock feathers waver behind him.

Right now, John really, truly does not care if this entity’s playing some kind of twisted long con to trick them into sacrificing their souls or something equally as horrifying. He just wants to go home and forget anything ever happened. “So, you’re not a malicious entity.” Constantine states finally, putting an end to any further back-and-forth that he’d managed to tune out.

“I promise you I’m not.” Danny replies seriously, even as his features shift back to something more human-looking that only seems like it’s trying and failing to hide something bigger underneath it now.

Constantine puts his hands in his pockets, and turns straight to the door. “Brilliant news. I’m leaving now. I hope we never have to see each other again.” The League and that kid can do whatever they want, but Constantine swears on everything he holds sacred that he’s not touching any of it with a ten-foot pole. He never wants to have to deal with anything like this again, and he is never agreeing to do Batman another favour.

#sorry it's late!!! I've had a Weird™ few days #Also sorry if it reads a bit funky or anything I tried my best #I really want to do more for this au though so hopefully I'll be posting about it again in November after Ectober week!!#Maybe even for that DPxDC event!!#dp fic #dp fanfic #danny phantom fic #danny phantom fanfiction #dpxdc #ghost king danny #(Implied)#eldritch danny #danny phantom #john constantine #Bongo's Aus!!!#Bongo's Writing!!!#peacock au

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homesickn · 1 year

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My Heart

Soft!dark Loki x Reader. (Ghostface!Loki)

Loki is your special guide on an acting play in Asgard. How will it turn out? It will certainly be a Scream!

(Scream-inspired, ghostface!Loki, he's a bit obsessive too, who could have guessed?)

Warnings: this fic is exclusively explicit +18, a lot of blood, Dom!Loki, angst (at least reader cries a lot), stalking, Loki is a bit mean at times, blood kink, murder, psychological horror, possessive Loki, obsessive Loki, dark!Loki, scared reader. Be safe! ;)

You were fixing your hair and taking a look at the fancy dressing options for the official play, taking place in the center of Asgard, a place properly dedicated for cultural artistic exposition.

A bunch of the most famous actors throughout all of Asgard were coming to interpret roles in the huge theater near the castle, as an official tradition. Asgard is often envied in the matter of culture and in their specific field of acting art.

You've never felt more treasured, it surely felt gifting to be able to experience such an unique phenomenon, to be invited to such a thing.

And you're human. It feels a whole lot to you.

Far away from your home on Earth.

As much as it bothered you, you had to keep your mind off the annoying sting in your chest. You came here for an honorable reason, to represent as a Midgardian diplomat, settled by Thor to help him with his rules and studies for Asgard and the other realms, as he already knew you, he thought you to be the perfect fit. You don't want to disappoint.

But this loneliness is unlike any other, you can't help but wonder how your family and friends are doing, at home. You could fully say with conviction that the only friend you have is the godly Avenger that swore to protect you through your journey out of your original realm.

You were okay with it, until you had to get down and face the real world. You wore the very detailed white royal dress that most appealed to your eyes, and went downstairs to meet with the known blond just waiting for your presence, awkwardly messing with his…formal, hero cape.

He says your name with hesitance, “I'm so sorry, my friend. I truly am, I won't be able to attend the event,” he expresses, you frown and press your hand to your heart.

“What? You're the only friend I have here, am I supposed to go alone?” You're quick to ask.

“You can go with Loki,” he mentions the dark prince, you blink.

Loki wasn't a bad man to you, from what you've known of him, you're not a judgemental person, you don't like going for other people's words. But he's known on Earth for being a murderer, you watched the news, even though you weren't present during the attack you still could feel the pain that all those victims went through. It felt like you're betraying them, like you're hurting them by thinking of befriending the god.

However, since you've shown up on Asgard, Loki has been nothing but amicable to you. You just hesitated considering him a friend, whatsoever, he's a person you've —unfortunately — come to admire.

Whenever he passes by your sight is attached to him, as if you've been hypnotized, he's charming, pleasing to be around, your sense of humor matches a lot from what you've had the pleasure of discovering of him.

“Loki?” You repeat, letting the name echo through the walls of the castle. You're momentaneously afraid you've summoned him with the name.

“Yes, he's not too bad,” Thor looks a bit embarrassed of having to state so. “He's kind when you spend time with him, I know he'll treat you well. And if there's one thing my brother loves more than anything, is the events that involve acting around here. You have to see just how bright his eyes sparkle when he watches the plays, and this one in particular is one of his favorites. We used to watch it with father when we were younger.”

You were now enchanted by Thor's description, your eyes shining at the idea of having someone acknowledged to teach you more of something you already enjoy so much, you're also a huge fan of acting, and theatrical acting was a hidden passion you've always adored.

The thought of Loki liking this so much excites you, because you love surrounding yourself with enthusiastic people, you love seeing them being passionate about what they love. You thought it wouldn't be so bad to have a guide, it is definitely a better option than to go just by yourself, or to refuse and stay in bed for the day.

“Well…” You think for a second, looking around then coming back to Thor. “I don't see why not.” You shrug your shoulders, the blond god gives you a bright smile and says he'll catch him for you.

You wait at the entrance, looking all like a real princess waiting for her prince to take her to a royal ball.

“This is too fancy for me,” you look down at yourself, somehow feeling a sense of imposter syndrome. Feeling unbelonging, too human for this, it's way more than you could ever dream of. “I shouldn't be here.”

“Now, why would you say such a thing?” A low soft voice asks you from nowhere, you jolt as you turn quickly, recognizing the owner of the voice.

Loki gulps as he shares eye contact with you, glancing down at your pretty dress, you take a moment to appreciate his beautiful princely outfit, black and green, with tiny golden sparkling details. His body seemingly just fit for the measures of the clothes, you think you've lost your breath for a second.

He smirks as he catches you staring.

“Princess?” Your heart flutters a little, you swear your legs feel a bit shaky from the endearment.

“I'm not a princess,” you hurry to correct, your cheeks heating up against your will.

“You look just like one. You can be a princess, and if you don't like it, you have the experience for the night.” He offers his hand to you with a charming smile.

“No one would believe I'm a princess, prince Loki.” You challenge him.

“They will if I treat you like one,” he licks his lips and his eyes give you such softness you could melt again. Another pang, the betrayal, the attack on Earth.

You're the one to gulp nervously now, taking your eyes off of him and looking to the road ahead.

“You don't need to, it's fine,” and you quickly hurry to change the subject before he can protest. “Shall we go? Otherwise we'll miss the time. Nobody likes being late.”

★

You and Loki arrive at the festival together, getting off the carriage, he offers his hand again when you're exiting, like a true gentleman.

There's a lot of drinking, dancing, and singing. The theater is still empty waiting for the actors to arrive. Your excitement is likely palpable, Loki could swear he feels it radiating off of you.

“It's okay, princess,” he says loud enough for others to hear, placing his arms around you. You blush but refuse to protest, he gives you a knowing look and a mischievous smile. “We can have our fun before the show. Let me show you around all the cultural Asgardian beauty.”

They had a lot of variable types of drinks, a lot of dancing presentations for people to watch, and the singers had the most amazing intonations that your ears could be blessed to hear. You couldn't believe how lucky you were, to be able to humanely get in touch with the art from the gods themselves.

The harp brought an etheric touch to all the singing, the harsh intoning of the words whilst they sung something in their native languages, deep voices to match their godly vocal chords. Be it from the realm they were, your heart clenched in delight from all the admiring.

Loki was an impeccable guide, showing you some popular dishes, giving you the most delectable desserts, and watching the performances with you. Thor was right, you could see the special touch he had with art, it was as if he forgot everything else around him when he got close to it.

“This play will be my favorite,” he musters and you stop to listen, carefully. His voice is low but the smile he's wearing really makes you interested in what he has to say. It's like a secret you're two are sharing.

“What's the name of the play?” You couldn't believe Thor hadn't told you this before, you felt a bit ignorant towards the conversation. Loki puts his hands on your back again to calm your nerves down.

“The Masquerade,” he almost whispers. Like a real secret, almost as if he could read you.

“Oooh,” you teasingly express. “The Masquerade, such an interesting name, will they wear the masks?” For a second you feel dumb to ask, Loki only laughs a little and rubs your back to comfort you.

“Yes, yes, they will. I truly hope you find it as beautiful as I do.” His eyes sparkle with a sprinkle of mischief among the kindness.

“I probably will,” you say more to yourself than to him. If he thinks it's beautiful, there's one more reason for you to like it, there's a special key to the piece, they caught someone's love before you've met it. “What's it about, anyways?”

He looks down at you due to the height difference and brings his gaze back to your eyes, deep piercing blue staring right into you, you feel a bit sick from the closeness.

“It's…uhh,” he pauses, a bit sheepish, you never thought you'd see the infamous, 'evil' god of mischief looking embarrassed to talk about something he loves. He clears his throat. “It talks about several people meeting at a Masquerade ball, one of them, the leader, —who is the murderer, but it's a fact unknown to the characters of the play— wears a mask that resembles the face of a comical ghost, it may sound a bit silly, but it's really symbolic. It has the horror of course, putting the thrill aside.” He still blushes to say.

He continues.

“The thrill of having to discover who is responsible for the murders whilst everyone worries because their lives are at risk, you don't know which ones you trust, there's just…something about it that makes me terrified, I think that's why I'm so invested in the story.” He manages to explain to you. “But I really like it, I've even read the scripts before, a few times. I had the pleasure of reading the original one when it was created.”

Your eyes widen as he says it all. “I love these kinds of things! The mystery!” You exclaim. “I love it, and we'll get to see who's actually the murderer at the end, right? Sometimes I tend to get my intuitions wrong,” you joke.

He chuckles, a bit surprised. “Yes, of course. Where would be the fun if we never get to know who did it all?”

“And you're quite old, huh?” You give a teasing smile, he shakes his head, smiling too. “You know so many things from so many years ago.”

“Don't let this disappoint you, I hope.” There's a glint and the softness he always presents to you. You feel queasy, you feel happy. “Your mortality is not an issue here.”

As the festival went on, even the Warriors did their own little stunt to occupy the time, but the actors never arrived. You were starting to get a bit restless, you wanted to watch the show and you feared you wouldn't get to see what Loki so lovingly shared with you.

Everybody gave out a gasp of exasperation when all the lights of the event were turned off. People immediately sighed a bothered "blackout", but even the candles were blown off, leaving everyone in a sea of darkness swallowing all the excitement there was before.

“We can't enjoy the event without lights!” One of the warriors complained, you couldn't quite remember his name.

“Why can't I light the candle? The fire just doesn't lit,” someone complained loudly. “Where is a God of Fire when you need one?”

“I bet that's all because Thor's not here!”

You turn your head around the annoyed complaints of the people, listening to them all in confusion. Loki made sure to appease everyone telling us that we should all stay calm, that the problem will probably be solved soon.

“How could we know? We can't trust this snake!” Someone screamed, pointing at Loki.

“I'm the prince, and I was raised to rule,” Loki had a stern expression as he spoke. “Whether you like it or not, it's true. As Thor is gone for now, I will listen to all the complaints you have.”

“I bet he did it on purpose!” An old Asgardian lady yelled behind the crowd.

“Why would I? I have nothing to gain from this, it's just more of a headache for me,” he said annoyed now, he probably couldn't handle accusations when all he was trying to do is enjoy something he loves.

“He wanted to watch the show like everybody else,” you awkwardly meek the words out, you felt ashamed as soon as they came out and the people looked at you.

“This trickster has watched the same play a thousand times!” Someone gestured rudely with their hands. “He knows every detail probably, he's not doing anything for us.”

“Silence!” Loki orders, “I will not tolerate insolence! You wish to complain, you do so, but meanwhile, I'll put my best efforts to fix the issue.”

You thought the blackout was going to last for maybe a few minutes, but after a while with each sound of nature echoing throughout the open space, you questioned if you're wrong after all. Why was everyone still in the dark? The complaints were now too loud for your ears.

And the worst part is that you've lost sight of Loki. You remind yourself of some old men pulling him by his sleeves, you try to remember what the men's faces looked like, but it remains unsuccessful.

Your heart is quaking with anxiety, he was your only access to hanging out around Asgard, without Thor around or his trusted brother, you feel completely at loss.

Furiously looking around the place to check if there's anything you can find, whilst others are starting to grab their things to go away.

A sudden light hits the entire circle, a brighter light stinging the people's sight and coming from the theater stage. You hiss and move your gaze, trying to fathom what it's going on.

“The actors are never going to come.” Says a terrified man among the crowd, he's gasping as he looks at the empty stage. What does he mean by that? “Where's the King?! Where's Thor?!”

“We have to run!” An old lady screams, bumping your shoulders as she runs in the opposite direction, grabbing all her stuff. You're still confused but you recompose yourself and immediately try to go somewhere darker.

You scramble through your mind to think of where Loki may be at, you don't want to imagine him suffering with any possible attacks. And your eyes fickle to the golden castle sticking close to the theater area.

You imagine that's the place where they might've taken Loki to, so you run there, readying yourself to the presence of an unquiet Loki, or maybe a tired, questioning Thor, wondering what all the fuss is about, both the princes immediately trying to solve the problems. You'd run and embrace yourself in the feeling of safety around their presence.

Instead of that, the castle was all empty, you knitted your eyebrows as your skin shivered from the cold you felt in the air. The golden castle has never been so cold, and it seems all the lights have gone out here too.

You're alone. There are no palace staff even, no cooks, no nurses, the princes are nowhere in sight. Alone. And it frightens you, you feel the loneliness ripping your bones as you wonder if staying with the angry mob would be a greater idea than trying to come to the castle.

You hear a ringing way too loud for the quiet atmosphere, you recognize the sound of your cell phone ringing. You run to where your temporary room is, and grab the vibrating phone in your hands.

You're puzzled, it's odd. It isn't supposed to function, it never does. Who would want to call you when you're so far from Earth?

Nobody here has a phone connection, so why does it work? Could it be someone from Earth calling you?

You'd probably ask Thor about this later, but you see the number is unknown. You ask yourself if it's possible for the marketing programs to call you even from another realm of distance. You muffle a small laugh as your mental joke eases your nerves.

You hesitantly accept the call, feeling curious.

“Hello?! Is anybody there??!” The raspy male voice questions frantically, it seemed almost robotic, sounding like they're out of breath, you can hear a tiny sob coming from the other line.

“Y-yes, who is it?” You shiver as you listen to your own voice ringing in the closed room.

“Please! Please help me!” The weird voice pleads you. “Please, I found this device out in the blackout, I don't know where I am. But I have you. Please help me.”

You try to shush him calmly. But you're scared as you're still alone, and the voice calling you sounds male but unrecognizable.

“Look I'm sorry, I'm not a person you should be calling right now, I'm really lost too.” You try to explain peacefully, your chest aching from feeling useless. “Please, forgive me,” You hang up.

Seconds later as you ready yourself to leave, organizing all the important stuff, there's the ringing again. You groan loudly and answer the call.

“Hello?!”

“Are you alone?” He asks, giving another sob through the line. “I'm sorry if you are, I just feel uneasy.”

“I'm packing my things to go face an angry mob of people. Why did you call me back? I told you I can't help you.”

“You'd rather face some angry people than help me?” He asks, quite stressed, all of a sudden sounding a bit angry. Your body stills on the spot.

“I don't know who you are!” He sighs as he hears you.

“That's fair.” A silence rings. You sigh and hang up again.

As you walk out the room, the phone rings again.

“I was testing you, I know a woman that's alone shouldn't come around to help people they don't know, you're really smart.”

“Is it you again?” You ask out of patience.

“What are you doing now?” He sounds more curious.

“I told you, I'm packing my things.”

“Why are you lying to me?” You freeze.

“...Excuse me?” You look around and check if there's anyone that saw you leave your room. “Also, wait. How do you know I'm alone? I never told you I was…”

“Were you on the play?” He changes subject.

“I-uhm…Yeah, I was. I wanted to watch it- yeah. Now answer my question!” You respond feeling incredibly uneasy.

“I was there too. Are you also human?”

“Me? Yes, I'm the Midgardian. You're from Earth?” You walk and get giddier on the call, someone from Earth in Asgard would bring you more familiarity. For a minute you forgot your question remained unanswered.

“Was just curious. Thor likes you a lot. He speaks a lot about you.”

“Thor? Yeah, he's my friend...” You wonder why the stranger is bringing him to the topic.

“I think I found a light, will you stick on the line until I reach it?”

“Sure thing.” You don't know why, though you don't see anything wrong with waiting. Your every move is still shaky from fear.

“You never told me your name.” He says suggestively, you hurry down the stairs and breathe out the next words.

“Why do you wanna know my name?”

“Because I want to know who I'm looking at.” A shiver runs down your spine. Like a whiplash, you feel observed as you search your surroundings.

“...What?”

“I wanna know who I'm talking to.”

“That's not what you said.”

“What do you think I've said?” He asks, feigning confusion.

You rush to the entrance only to notice the doors are locked, your hands shaking as you knock the door repeatedly to call attention from the outsiders. You're sure the stranger heard you banging the door through the call. Shit.

You don't say anything as you hang up this time. You try to compose your breathing, the phone rings once again but you don't move to accept the call.

“Someone!! Help me!” You loudly call, waiting for a response, a sign, anything. The dark was even scarier after the call you received, the cold all too threatening, like a bunch of invisible eyes looking under your skin.

After some moments of silence passing through your weeping eyes, you're fighting to keep the sobs hidden by putting your hand to your mouth to muffle the noise.

You kneel down, body glued to the door, holding it for dear life, your heartbeat a bit too loud for your eardrums. You're hugging your knees in a position of defeat as your body trembles with each sob.

You're wondering if the Asgardians had evacuated the castle and forgotten about you. You wondered if Loki forgot about you.

Your phone rings.

“Don't you hang up on me again or I'll make sure you're the first one to get killed.” Your sobs get even louder. “I'll gut you like a fish and feed your organs to the wolves!”

“What are you doing?! Who are you?!” You ask, clenching your fist to your chest. The rough voice from the other line chuckling from your questions.

“Does it matter, sweetheart? You want out, don't you? Poor thing, locked alone in the castle…”

“Please…don't hurt me…”

“You've told me once you like scary stuff, thrillers.” You fight not to hyperventilate. “Let's try some method acting, shall we?”

“No…no I don't. I don't like this shit.” You grit your teeth.

“You do, sweetheart. Don't lie to me. Don't you want to join my play? I planned it just for us, I thought you wanted to watch it. I can make you a star.”

“What?! No…” You cry.

The door opens out of a sudden and your body falls to the dirty earthy ground. You leave a groan, when your head lifts you're surprised by the dark that's out in the wild, the only light being the stars above your head and the vast bright moon occupying the sky.

You lift yourself with trembling knees and hear a voice coming from the phone.

“If you ignore me one more time I'll fucking cut your neck off, you stupid little bitch!” The person threatens and you visibly recoil, throwing the phone very far away, ignoring his instructions and running for dear life.

Panting on your way through the golden speckled Asgardian trail out of the castle, darkened by the lack of lightning that you find in the way, you breathe as best as you can, ignoring the fear clutching your heart and the tears pricking your eyes, face puffy and your nose beginning to stuff.

“Damn it,” you tremble and fall in your steps. Sobbing to the air. “Shit, shit…” You curse to the skies as you try to regain your steadiness.

You start listening to a noise behind you, shuffling the bushes and startling you even more. When you pay attention, there are a pair of black boots making their way out of the bushes, right to your direction. A cloak covers down their ankles while your eyes widen.

You don't stay behind to care for whom it may be, nor wait to check their face, and you keep running.

You're startled as a man comes to your line of vision, screaming, frantic. You tremble and end up falling backwards on the ground, he falls on top of you. Your hands are punching him to move off of you but he seemed just as frightened as you were.

He also noticed your punches were much weaker than the touches the gods carry. The strength they have. He supposed you were a human.

“Oh thank the Lord!” He praises God, and your face is entirely a mix of fear and anxiety, the tears making it very uncomfortable to keep your eyes open. “Thank the Heavens, you have to save me!”

“No!” You scream, pushing him away. A human. He doesn't fool you, he's the damn murderer that's been stalking you. You push his figure behind and he falls off his steps.

And then a knife craves his stomach, your eyes are wide and you're nauseated. The blood speckles to your terrified face. You can't help the scream that leaves you.

You quickly hurry to move up and keep on the run, suddenly someone grabs you by your neck, pulling your whole body up effortlessly, scaring all the breath out of your body.

You're pale as you realize the person is masked, wearing a ghost face mask and a cloak covering their entire body. The person from that was following you, the murderer.

“W-who…” You're fighting, clutching the gloved fingers holding you up and choking you by your pulse. “Who…I-I can't- breathe…” You say between resistant breaths.

“I told you not to ignore me, didn't I? I didn't think I'd need to repeat myself. You seemed like a pretty clever girl.” You recognized the voice from the phone.

“Please…”

“Don't beg, sweet. You're right where I want you to be.” He turns your body, clinging to you, pressing a knife near where his hand was, on your neck. This hand is now resting on your stomach. “I was waiting for this the whole night.”

“What?” You squirm around his grip, wanting to get out.

He clutches your face, forcing you to look at the stage. The one that was before empty, and now, is filled with decorations and blood stains. Your bile raised up to your throat.

Your eyes widened in fear and filled with terrified tears, you could barely hold your screech as you paid attention to the calculated amount of bodies on the floor of the stage.

You were now fully hitting him even though your limbs were being held tight, you still tried to escape.

“Don't be scared, princess.” A shiver runs through your skin, your whole face must be a mix of sweat and tears. It's like everything is turning in your head, dizzying you. Princess.

Cruel joke. Must be a cruel coincidence, a cruel joke against you. You imagined the killer heard the nickname Loki called you, you could only hope Loki was coming to save you anytime. Maybe he knew how much you liked him.

“Don't be scared, we're only starting the show.” He carries your body up and takes you closer to the stage, all while you punch him as best as you can with full fists. He doesn't seem to be affected by your weak punching.

“Shh, now.” He calms you through your breakdown, shushing you and moving a piece of your hair that was sticking on your forehead due to your sweating. “Shh, you'll like this game, I promise.”

“Game?” You repeat with a gasp, mouth open in fright. “I don't wanna play anything, you freak! You monster!” You try to jump off his embrace but he's stronger and clutches his hold onto you with more strength. “Please, let me go…”

“Come on, princess.” He calls through your cries, placing you down on a throne-looking piece in front of the stage, when you touched it, it felt so…real. You wondered how anyone would be able to bring a real golden throne to this place, you wondered if it was like the one the Asgardian King has.

“A real throne for a princess.” You felt the goosebumps rise one more time, bringing your attention out of your senses, as you looked at the masked freak. “You can't get out of this.” He says and you notice you can't move your hands, you actively scream out, really scared at being unable to move.

“What are you doing?! Why?” You wonder, and he touches your face delicately, the ghost face giving you a cold feeling down your spine, your eyes bright with tears as you look up to him.

He moves your face a bit, to get you to look at the stage instead of himself.

“We're just going to play a game, my princess.” He softly says, as much as his raspy voice can muster. You start shaking your head in denial, frantically.

“Please, no. You've had your fun, I promise I won't tell, please! Let me go!!”

“You wanted to watch the play, we're going to do so. You just have to guess who's the one that's guilty. If you get it right, nothing happens, and you get a reward. If you get it wrong, we're going to have even more fun.”

“Why are you doing this?” He doesn't respond, he keeps his hands on your shoulders as you watch ahead.

The play starts, a terrified man tries to run you, but he's interrupted like there's a wall in the way.

“Please, help me! I'm innocent, I need to go away.”

You try to move your hands but you can't. The Ghostface whispers in your ears.

“Do you trust him, sweetheart? It's in your hands.”

You shake your head and close your eyes, desperately trying to ignore the scene in front of you. More characters came into the scene.

“Don't worry about the actors, sweetheart,” his whispering was almost so soft for the fake covering voice, hidden behind the mask. “That man, the one that just screamed,” he points his knife to the man that's staring at him with big scared eyes. “He was wanted as a criminal, his reward was worth thousands of gold for arson, murder and sexual abuse.”

“S-so you don't think sexual abuse is correct?” You ask before even thinking, just feeling a wave of relief.

“What?” He sounds surprised for a second. “Why would I–? Oh, sweet? You thought I'd hurt you like this?” His voice sounded different at the moment he realized, like it really hit him somehow. “I'd never do this to you, there's no need to worry about that, I think it's the most disgusting of all crimes.” He says tilting the knife, you gulp not knowing what to do, but gratefully accepting the fact the killer had moral limits about this. At least.

“Pick one.” You realize you've barely paid attention to the play, to the actors moving.

“Please…” You keep on begging, maybe that'll help, but it gets him even more out of patience. “Please, I can't play with people's lives!”

“You should know what you were getting into before coming here.” He gets closer to your face, you only wish your hands could work so you could pull his mask off to know who he is. “Come on, pick one.”

All the characters looked terrified, one wore a sillier mask of the Ghostface that was beside you, purposely seeming fake and cheaper. You start shaking, it'd be too obvious to pick the Ghostface that's acting, he's supposed to be the story's murderer. No one was actually killed during the act, they just pretended to kill.

“Do you think he did it?” The real killer asks beside you, almost sitting by your side close to your throne. He steps in front of you, steps clear and slow as his boots hit the ground, making you fixated on his every move. “You've been looking at him.” He takes something out of his cloak, and you almost can't believe it when he pulls out a gun and shoots the guy wearing the leader's mask.

“NO!” You scream loudly, hoping to reach his ears before he finishes the murderous act.

A few more very loud shots were done, the stage was now shining with the stranger's dark red blood, and the actors were all shaking, shivering, on their best attempts at holding their cries, because they didn't want to be a part of it, they're afraid they'll be the next.

“This play is originally Midgardian,” he said, ignoring your cries. “Being written decades ago, only modern versions have this new weapon so the characters would be killed at a distance. I think it's practical for our current game.”

“NO, NO, NO, THAT'S HORRIBLE! STOP, STOP THIS, LET ME LEAVE! I DIDN'T PICK HIM, I DIDN'T WANT HIM TO DIE!” You scream and your whole body is shaking as you feel the guilt racking through your bones.

You feel his gloved hands caress your arms.

“Sweet,” his strange voice keeps calling you. “Princess, please, look at me. Look at me,” His glove is tainted with dark blood, staining the rich dark black material. He tilts your chin up to make you look at his masked face. You feel even more afraid, the unfamiliarity and fear burning up your body.

You can't stop crying, and your sobs are becoming louder and louder.

“Look at me. It's okay, remember what I told you? He didn't deserve to live. He was supposed to go through the death penalty anyways.” You didn't know if you trusted his words. You were scared. Terrified. Shaking, and now feeling so guilty you couldn't even think about being saved.

What if they put the blame on you? What about the disgust the princes will feel about you? You feel tainted, dirty, like you killed him yourself, with your bare hands.

You couldn't handle that, you didn't want to take the man's life. You couldn't stop looking at the blood, the smell of iron now clinging close to where you're stuck at.

“Please, let me go. You got what you wanted.” You try one more time.

“You think I got what I wanted?” His hands strongly hold your already immobile wrists. “Princess, I could do this anytime I wished, but I want you.” He says and you shiver even more. “I want you to be the star. My Queen. The one they admire, I want you to stay with me.”

“What? W-what do you mean by that?”

“Thor is not coming back.” He says almost too softly, nonchalant, apathetic, you want to throw up. You're feeling dizzy, there's a knot in your stomach and you don't know what to do.

“What?! What? What??! Why? What have you done to him?! What about Loki?!” You cry and beg for answers.

He chuckles. The mask moving with each small laugh he lets out, you want to rip it off his face. This person you already hate so much.

“It's so sweet of you, it matches your nickname. Sweet, sweet, darling thing. It's so beautiful to know just how much you care about me.” He moves the mask off his face and you're unmoving, you go completely limp as you stare at the face you admired before, the tears wouldn't go away.

Were they correct this whole time? You've been considering a psychopath as your friend this whole time?

“L-Loki?” You hate how you stutter as you say his name, you hate to see him smile at that. You hate that you don't hate him, because your brain can't link the murders to him. Not him. “Loki, why?”

“My father made me love this play, he taught me everything. I was here when it was created, Odin thought of the leaders like brave warriors, soldiers. The weaker ones got killed first but only he remained.” Loki's voice now sounded so suave to your ears, you imagined the strange one must have been granted through his magic and illusions.

“Such a beautiful story, sweetheart. It has so many layers, I can't wait for you to get involved in this artwork as much as I do.” His smile was so bright you felt nauseated, you couldn't even speak. “Look at the irony, look at it! The Norns must love me! Odin died first, he isn't here to present my thriving. I'm the only one that's left, the leader, the King, the ruler. I'm winning now, and the act is going on!”

He conjures a knife and presses it close to your neck, making you yelp and jump a little out of the chair. You're surprised you can move now, but he still grabs you forcefully and pulls you up to him.

“I was the one that made Thor bring you here. I was paying attention to you for so long, it didn't take much convincing until the oaf agreed, he even befriended you. You have no idea how long I've had to wait with my nerves at bay.” His jealousy was visible as he spoke and you shook from his words.

“Look at them. The blood of the undeserving, the weak ones. We are above them, my princess. You and me. We can win this game. I'd never, ever, hurt you.” He says the last sentence with a seriously cold expression, you open your mouth and leave out a loud cry. His frown deepen.

“What's wrong? I thought you wanted to see how the play goes?”

“Not like this. Please…Loki…” You feel his hand reaching under the skin of your dress, pulling it up and moving to caress your thigh. You feel perverted as your eyes open and you look at the blood and the terrified faces among the stage.

You take the moment he's distracted to rush out of his grip, he's caught unexpectedly so his knife accidently cuts your shoulder, you grunt from the small wound.

You turn to leave as quickly as you can, Loki chuckles to himself, thinking about how cute it is, that you think you can be quicker than him. That you're trying to escape, it's what a really smart princess would do, to be brave enough to try.

You pass through bushes, a weird unknown garden to you, wanting to find anyone else that was there before, anyone from the crowd that was running away, screaming loudly your pleas for help that no one hears.

You look behind, not seeing him makes you even more uneasy. You can feel his presence near you, you don't know where he is.

There's a particular downhill area you didn't see right in front of you, you accidently fall. Your legs failing you and hitting the ground from a long altitude distance, cutting your face and any naked skin you're letting out, your bones felt the fall and you curse how stupid you were not to pay attention.

Your skin is tainted with dirt, your face now on the ground. You think your foot is out of place as you groan out in pain, it hurts to move it. You can't believe you could ever be so stupid. Your dress is so painfully yellow after all the dirt.

You cry like a little kid.

You're surprised when your phone —the one you threw away — is right next to you, ringing and intact. Your face is so puffy from the fall, and because of all the crying, all the fear.

You move your arms and hold it close to your ears. “Hello?” Your voice trembles.

“I should have told you, you can't run away from me, darling.” Loki's voice echoes through your mind now, you almost feel it like a safety blanket covering your skin after the defeat, you don't know if you should accept the loss or not. Like a balm, a salve.

He's the one that hangs up this time.

You feel a pair of arms holding you up with him, cozying you into his arms, so you can peacefully rest your head onto his chest, still covered by the dark cloak.

He pats your head, letting his hand softly caress your back as you lay in his arms, he's carrying you somewhere else.

You see the people now, the Asgardians, and the actors from before. So you quickly put your head back to Loki's chest again, wishing to hide away.

“I shouldn't have just thrown it on you like that,” he keeps his soft touches on your clothed back, his magic cleaning the dirt on your skin, balming the wounds. “It takes a lot from someone, but you're so pretty when you're scared. I got carried away, I'm so sorry.” He quickly apologizes after he says so, you keep hidden, not wishing to speak.

He sighs tiredly, he massages your scalp, you almost mewl like a kitten when he does it. Your heart still aches with fear and he tears up at your shivering, afraid he's broken you.

“To all the Asgardians,” he begins, voice loud and authoritative. “I expect all of you to do your normal duties tomorrow, everyone in their expected places. I'll have the lights fixed after I have my fun.” His fingers massage your scalp as he mentions that. His other hand holds you up by your buttocks, he's steadying you in his arms.

Unknowingly to your hiding self, the Asgardians nod tearfully and all so scared of his statements. They all were quivering under Loki's gaze. He seemed like a true mad King to their eyes.

To Loki, he's never been more sane, this is all he ever wanted, he's got you in his arms now. And Thor is gone. He's a King.

“To the actors,” he looks at the frightened crew still in their respective places. “I expect a full play. Just as we planned.” He gestures to them to continue, they lock eyes with each other and look at the corpse close to their feet. “Now.” Loki could only roll his eyes with impatience.

They move in their respective places, getting ready for the show. Loki sits on the throne with you clinging to him like a koala. He's smirking all too proud, he loves feeling needed.

He considers putting the mask back, it's a symbol for greatness in this art. It's what his father used to say.

“Love,” he calls. Not wanting to frighten you more, you look up to him with a quivering lip. “You're okay, we're okay.”

He lifts a bit the end of your dress again, unbothered by the actors frantically moving among themselves, not knowing if they should look or not.

He grabs your ass cheek, making you gasp from the suddenness. You don't want to think about the scene, so you don't. You stick to appreciating his closeness, and him, you feel like a pervert for enjoying this, his low voice speaking against your skin.

He kisses you.

“I'll make you feel better.” He brings you up a bit to lick down your earlobe, moving to kiss your neck. “I'll make it all better, I promise. I've been reckless.” He says, taking off his gloves and pressing his nails against your skin, marking tiny half-moon shapes on your flesh.

Wanting to fully feel you, smiling as he remembers the desperation from the man, he's dreamt years of this performance. Of having a figure to be conquered, the star of the show, you.

The blood still covered his cloak, and it's starting to taint your beautiful, innocent skin. It entices him more, of course. He groans near your ear, you moan under his touch in response.

He hears the movement from the play and he grabs your hair tenderly, you've had enough for one day, he has to be kind, you need his softness that you adore so much. The one he reserves only for you.

He takes off your dress and lets it slip off your body, he's in awe as more of your skin reaches his eyes, his breath hanging for a second.

The actors now well enough not to look at you while the King has you in his arms.

He grabs more than he can, he feels graced by the Gods. He wants to suffocate you with his passion, the blood on your skin tainting his hands. The blood gets him so hard, leaving him impatient as he ruts against your clothed pussy, searching for friction.

He sucks on your neck, taking his time to your shoulders, your hands tremble as you move to grab his hair. You keep your eyes closed, each breath you tried to convince yourself this was completely fine.

Loki's eyes glance to the stage for a moment, he takes a look at a character picking the ghostface mask off the floor, and with a shaky breath and, most likely heavy heart, the next thing to be heard was a short scream. The cut of the knife tainted the actors even more, one of them turned to run to a corner and throw up.

Loki pressed his hands against your ears so you wouldn't listen to the vomit, nor the blood splashing out. But you knew.

"Weak bastards," Loki thought, "they'd never survive a war. Weak, fake puritans. Their blood is a noble sacrifice."

Loki kept a hold of your head to his chest so you wouldn't watch the scene, you were still shaking, poor thing, wouldn't be able to take it. Your curiosity was dangerous to you, he had to keep you safer than he assumed necessary, innocent, untainted little thing.

“Princess,” he takes your face between his hands, only leaving a small distance between his lips to yours, practically speaking right into your mouth. You blushed under his loving gaze. “Can I have you?”

Your breath stopped short, you were so dizzy you feared fainting from such intense emotions. Loki was all you wanted, but after this? You were terrified.

“You don't need to accept, I won't even make you watch the show. I fear it'd be too much for your pure heart to take,” he carefully fixes a singular strand of your hair to behind your ear.

“I'm not pure,” you meekly said, your eyes stinging with the weight of the truth. You've never felt dirtier, never felt more like a sinner. If punishments were deserving for those who committed atrocities, you trembled to believe you'd need them all. “I'm not pure, I deserve to suffer.”

“Don't say that,” Loki sternly commands. “Don't say that, not you. If there's a soul in this universe that deserves all the nine realms, it is you.” His words are stern but so soft, you once again feel your lips quiver at the start of another sob. You were way too emotional, everything was way too wrong.

Everything but the sensual way he was touching you.

His fingers kept a gentle caress of your back, down your spine, to reach your hips and buttocks. His breath hitched as he gritted his teeth, attempting patience, waiting for a sign that you soon granted him.

“Please…” You begged, like a poor little mouse under his tricks. He felt oh so blessed, the Norns truly must love him. He practically yanks you panties down, they hang somewhere around your calves as he starts to touch your needy cunt.

He skillfully touches your folds, your pussy clenching from the movements he's making, he slips his fingers inside your cunt to stroke that sensitive spot inside of you, curling his fingers, making you a mess.

“That's it, sweetheart, take your pleasure,” he craved those pleased whiny moans of yours, they were a treasure to his ears, you were clenching around him and lifting yourself a bit up with each thrusting of his fingers. He couldn't control his groans to himself. “Take it from me, it's yours. All yours.”

His palm circles your clit, paying extra attention to the moments you get sensitive, shivering under his hold like his precious toy, heat running down your skin. You shamelessly begin riding his palm. He kept your legs fully open now with his other hand, keeping a strong grip on your skin.

“Let me play, darling. Don't be cruel.” You didn't know if your tears came from pleasure or fear now. Your mind wasn't allowing you to focus on the seriousness of the situation, you didn't want to look at the blood, and the smell of him intoxicated you to the point you ignored the smell of iron around the place.

“Y-yes…” You mindlessly opened your legs further, making him give you the prettiest, most devilish grin your eyes could see.

“I'll treat you so well, you will enjoy being mine, princess. I'll make sure you do.” You don't hold your moaning, unafraid of the possible eyes wandering to your figure. Your nails digged his shoulders, your hips rutted against him unashamed, begging for the friction, for more of his marvelous fingers.

He helps you through your climax as you're gushing over his clothes, you're a trembling mess, coming undone for him, your entire face now very sticky with sweat and tears, the post-orgasmic bliss clouding your mind.

“Do you want to know how the show ends?” You feel goosebumps as he asks that, no, no you don't want to.

He looks down at you, bringing his fingers up as a trail of your cum sticks on the way to his mouth. You're dazed as he licks his fingers clean, keeping eye contact with you, you see a bit of blood sticking in between the act.

You wonder whose blood it is, if this is any hygienic, but you supposed being a God had its perks for these things. Your eyes squeezed tight in shame.

He makes sure to lift your face to make your eyes open again.

“No need to feel embarrassed if you like it.” Your blood boils and the heat you feel increases, how dare he? To assume you'd like being part of something so cruel?

“I don't like it.” You say coldly, not passing any of the burbling rage you feel.

He laughs a bit from your serious expression, you feel mocked. You knit your brows, you didn't know Loki could be this way.

“I love you, princess.” It's like a stab on your heart after the cruelness.

“No, you don't.” He scoops you up his arms, out of a sudden, you yelp as you're lifted, instinctively holding up around his neck.

He moves the throne magically to the center of the theater. Everything looks so hazed and spectacularly planned out.

He places you carefully down the throne, even fixing the skirt of your dress as he leaves you there.

You feel out of place, the characters that are alive have pleading eyes but none have the courage to move and run away. You begin to feel your blood boil for them too, how could they be so weak? How could you?

“My heart.” Loki calls you, you shiver because of the pet-name.

Your tears came back again, and your head now stings drastically from so much crying. If you survived, the headache you'd feel tomorrow will be painful.

Now, your fear was one thing, your anger another, even your cries as you orgasmed were angelical and he craved them like a sick bastard. But your sadness? That stung deep into his heart, ripping it like a carved knife tearing his insides out.

“Please… please don't cry, love. It's okay.” He never thought he'd beg another, he wanted to make everyone else pay. But you? You didn't deserve pain or suffering, and now you're crying because your poor heart is so sad it can't take any more of what he's made you go through.

He'd have to go a long time apologizing, your sadness was starting to cling to his bones.

“My love, look at me.” He holds your hand, kneeling by your side down the throne. Like you're the Queen and he's just a peasant, your servant, a pet.

You don't feel very royal at the moment, you don't really feel in control. If that's what he's planning on doing.

“That's my pretty girl.” As much as you're defiant and trying to keep yourself unattached, you can't help but blush at his words. They seem innocent, they seem honest. “My pretty girl, now the Queen of Asgard. Just as you deserve.” He looks down at your body and licks his lips. He'd feed you all the compliments in the world just because you deserve them.

His hands slide to your thighs and squish them under his hands. He leaves out an animalistic moan, looking up at you with so much desire clinging to his pupils.

“I've been waiting for this part the whole night.” You feel off at that, but he holds you as he hovers over your figure on the throne, quickly scrambling to get rid of his pants. Your panties have been discarded a long time ago, so the wetness is now ruining the fancy marble of the throne, your cheeks warm up at the realization.

He's pinning you against the throne with his weight, his back to the audience, covering you.

He sheaths himself inside of you, he goes in more easily than you imagined, making your eyes round as you feel him throbbing inside you, desperate to move.

He pulls out a bit and thrusts back into you at once. He has an insufferable smile covering his face, and his eyes closed in pleasure, appreciating the warmth of your cunt squeezing him in, welcoming his cock like you're made for him.

“Oh princess, I envied all the souls that had the pleasure of being near you.” He grabs your chin roughly forcing you to look into his eyes, your own eyes moist as you feel so inferior to him. “But what can they do now? What would they do now that I have you? I have you. I have you.” You pant as he bucks so deep into you, you can feel it hitting impossibly deep to the hilt.

“Y-you don't.”

“Oh?” He taunts. “Is that so, my heart? What does it look like to you?” He keeps his punishing pace into you, hands pressing down your womb where you can both feel the bump of his manhood shoving into you, balls repeatedly hitting your ass with every frantic thrusting. His sweat hitting your skin as he fucked you like a beast. “Because to me,” another harsh thrust, you moan and crave your nails on the skin of his back, legs wrapping around his waist. “It seems like I've won.”

Your eyes roll up your skull as he keeps hitting that sensitive spot, he was craving the sensation of your exploding orgasm, he craved to feel your cunt straining his cock as you milk his cock. His hand moves lower as his thrusts become more powerful, he rubs your clit. He hears your panting and moans into your ear like your sounds are a victory of its own.

You cling to him as his hips work you until your head falls backwards, the lights all on you as you spasm around him and his massive form still holding you for dear life. Loki finished with a bite down onto your neck, right next to your lifeline, biting a bruise as you felt him spilling into you.

You cling to him as you cease your rocking hips, he holds your tired legs down as he keeps himself rested inside you, calming down his breathing as your forehead touches his.

You look down and see the earlier blood smeared across your skin, you gulp, he feels your cunt clench from the sight and he gives a satisfied smile.

He coos you into his arms, embracing your form.

“I have you, princess.” He pulls out carefully and you hiss from oversensitivity. A long string of his cum coming out of you, you watch it with fascination as it runs down your thighs, moving a bit so it doesn't ruin the pristine throne. “I have you, my star.”

He conjures a knife again, and hands it to you. You watch it dazedly, the bliss really making you more fuzzy.

“Dearest,” he sweetly calls you, he's been doing that a lot, you notice. “The star needs to finish the show. The true leader. The one they're obsessed with, the true Star.”

You're limp as you take the news, you move the knife on your hands with a detached curiosity, it's clean now but you wonder for how long it's been used, and for what kind of things.

“I can't kill anyone.” You weakly say, afraid you'll disappoint, his eyes are wide but he still nods. He's quick to show you he's not disappointed.

He pats your hair and nuzzles your cheek with his face, getting your lips close to him so he can give you multiple and multiple kisses all over your face. You feel his affection like a healing balm in itself, you bathe yourself in it.

“It's okay, it doesn't need to be you.” He affirms, still passing his hands across your hair, and skin. He glanced at another actor, you hid your face again into his chest as you anticipate the cruel fate that'll obviously occur no matter what.

And it did, you heard another splash, someone else needed to die. You're shaking and your sobbing is louder than you wanted, Loki keeps you scooped onto him. He begins rocking you back and forth gently as a means to calm you down, cherishing you, babying you.

“The Star agrees for it to be the end, I presume?” He asks and you nod repeatedly. You just want it to end.

“Please… please, no more.” You beg weakly, he cradles you and coos some more, keeping you safely tucked in his arms, he starts to move around to stand up with you still clinging onto him like a koala.

“This will be all.” He gives a satisfied smile to the crowd of actors, the ones that survived shaking, trembling. Still meekly downing their heads as all actors do when a play's over. They rush to the exits, and Loki allows them.

“Shh, now.” He still asks of you as your cries are unstopping. “Please, love, it's over.”

“What will happen now?”

“I've told you, I'm the King. Nothing will happen, this play lasted for generations, it's the first opportunity I've had of making it my own. Centuries before you even dreamed to exist, but they don't dare to defy the King.” He patiently passes his hand up and down your back, holding you more to him. “We're safe. I told you. We're all safe.”

You guessed he wasn't going to refer to the dead people around you, or the ones that died in the way.

He takes a trembling you with him somewhere else, you don't know where you're going, but you don't have the bravery to peek out and see. You're still afraid to be the next.

You feel even more perverted everytime you think about death and feel his sticky cum running down your thighs, you feel even more perverted as you don't regret it.

“I'll take you to our chambers.” He says, as if it's nothing.

“Our chambers? Mine is…” He interrupts you. You check around and notice you're inside the cold castle, nobody's in sight but you and Loki.

“No…not yours, our chamber.” He recalls you. You shake your head clinging to his chest again, leaving out another sob.

“I'm sorry,” he continues, frowning now. “Do you hate me?” His voice trembles as he asks, your fists curled around his muscular chest as your mind fights to hate him, but you fear you don't. You don't want to tell him that you don't hate him. “This was more traumatic to you than I assumed it would be.”

Your eyes open as you try to look anywhere but his face, and as you peek at the floor, you see the shiny, bloody ghost face mask left on the floor. As if it's nothing now, as if nothing happened.

It gives you the chills.

“I-I, I've never had to–” You sob loudly. “Never thought I'd need to see- see people being murdered.” Your stinging eyes now struggled to keep open, you fought to breathe and to speak. He tries to calm you down and rubs over your clothed skin some more.

“My love, my heart, it's over now.”

Is it? Is it over? Was it all a huge nightmare? Your eyes squeeze shut as you wish for it to be all a giant, mean trick. But as you opened them, everything was real, and the blood, the cum, the memories, still very much present speckled across your impure skin.

“It's over.” He places you ever so gently down his giant bed, it felt heavenly, the pillows were so soft and the mattress smelled like paradise. It felt so heavenly you sighed out in relief, your bones received the touch against the bed like a treat. “It's been enough for this year, but we'll need to treasure the future performances.”

Your heart froze, of course. There were additionals.

“You don't need to worry about that now, my heart.” He pleads again, kissing you, you accept, and then pressing a gentle peck to your forehead. “For now, I'll let you relax. I'll prepare a bath for us, and I'll let you rest your divine mind into dreamland. Does this sound suitable?” He asks with a kind smile, smoothing his fingers over your wrists.

You clear your throat to say.

“Yes.”

“Perfect, my heart. As I have you, I'll take care of you. I've planned to have you as my Queen for a long time. I won't let it go to waste, I promise I'll take care of you.” He scoops you up to him again, he seemed to enjoy treating you like a princess a lot. Cradling his face next to yours. “One day you'll forgive me. But for now, for now, let me make you learn how to love me.”

Taglist: @mischief2sarawr @dangertoozmanykids101

#dark!loki #soft!dark loki #loki x reader #loki x you #loki #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson #loki friggason #loki odinson #loki angst #ghostface!loki #ghostface!au #loki of asgard #loki laufeyson x reader #possessive!loki #obsessive!loki #yandere!loki #loki smut

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profounddestinyrebel · 10 months

Text

Pretty much my ideal dcxdp coexisting world

Danny had all his canon happen before Bruce and the JL started their vigilante careers

Before Bruce was born or Martha and Thomas even got married

Phantom Planet never happened and the world never realized that they were almost dead in the first place (I apologize for mentioning it)

Danny retires after blowing up the portal and designing a new system of gov for the Infinite Realms (why the hell is that a monarchy anyway? Fighting being a way of communicating AND the way of determining a ruler does not make sense so I'll choose the better one)

Danny still visits the Infinite Realms but mostly lives his life

He still has interesting things happen to him but more because he apparently has a curse placed on him than anything else 'may you live in interesting times'

Danny manipulates the curse by getting into situations on purpose and then resolving them without getting attention drawn to his civilian id and normal life

He keeps track of immortals and big names that deal with death magic so as to lower the chances of being summoned

The more powerful the Realm Being the more powerful the summoner has to be to summon them and with how powerful Danny is there aren't many he has to keep an eye on

Ra's has been losing Lazarus water at a steady rate for over a decade but only now has it become a noticeable loss. The day the that he notices is a Very Bad Day for the League of Assassins (the day Danny lets himself get caught satisfies his curse for 2 whole months)

Danny hasn't aged much at all since he left Amity at 17. He's still short but mimics the effects of age with stage makeup and other tools used by actors to look older they actually are. This is how he meets a certain Alfred P. who remains a good friend even though they never really meet in person.

His parents blow themselves up and wipe their house off the map when tinkering with a device designed to lure realm beings to them. Danny isn't really sorry they're gone. He finds out after leaving Amity that he wasn't really their kid and he wasn't even adopted. They made him in their lab while distracted from their obsession with ghosts then completely forgot they had done so when they refocused on ghosts. His growth chamber (terrible name) was coated in ecto which allowed the device to reactivate and allow Danny to finish incubating into a toddler then (suspicious) it mysteriously popped him out before his the fentons noticed the growth chambers success.

His parents never took any notes on the clone experiment out of the house due to it being a (perceived) failure. After going back to their ghost obsession they completely forgot about it so no one knows. Jazz only found after Danny told her and he only found out after growing older and continuing to look less and less like either of his parents.

Danny finds the notes and that's what inspires him to leave Amity, to start looking for his bio parent. The Fenton's had no clue that the clone they grew was Danny. They dismantled the growth chamber when Danny was four (actually two) and never realized that the toddler they adopted was the clone of wonder woman they made. They never said anything to anyone about Danny being adopted so Vlad has no idea that Danny isn't Maddie's child.

Vlad starts to age drastically after the portals are destroyed and Danny figures out that Vlad isn't a halfa after all. He's just a normal ghost who can prey on people like spectra but with an obsession directed at Maddie originally and then Danny. Afterwards Vlad gets shunted off into Walker's prison because of all the toxic and human crimes he's committed among them brainwashing, mind control and mind wiping various wealthy and not so wealthy individuals into giving Vlad their money and companies.

Ellie has to explore the Infinite Realms (literally Infinite though so she's not confined) only because she can't really produce her own ecto. She has to absorb it from her surroundings so she can wander safely all over the Infinite Realms (so long as she calls for help when she gets in over her head) but not the human realms unless she takes a buddy who can produce a steady stream of ecto for her.

Vlad makes Danny his heir so now he's rich enough to travel even after giving all the people Vlad stole from their money back. It turns out that Vlad was good with making more money once he had it.

just Danny being a crptoid for the entire magical community and them being unable to talk about it if they even know of him

while danny runs a NASA and space account where he talks about NASA's recent achievements, newly discovered stars, planets and new alien races that Earth has been in contact with

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an-otterly-adorable-being · 5 months

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May I request an Asmodeus x gn human reader who has made themselves a title as a demon interviewer from the mortal realm? Basically reader is a demonology geek and has made it a hobby to summon and interview demons, even making friends with a few powerful overlords due to their positive and enthusiastic energy, reader always wrote facts down and sometimes even asks a few contacts for the latest gossip around hell from the mortal realm.

Okokokokok so this took me a while but man was this fun. I'm actually really into demonology and, more specifically, demonolatry (demon worship). Helluva Boss is actually what got me into it, even though I don't talk about it much because of some people in the demonolatry community's views on Vivzie's work. Sorry, I've rambled a lot. I hope y'all enjoy!

Asmodeus x Human!Reader

• You've had an interest in the occult for, well, you can't remember.

• Although you suppose it doesn't really matter now, after everything you've done and gotten.

• You run a little podcast talking about demons and hell, giving what news you can from the otherside.

• It's a very niche topic, and while you may not have a massive following, you do have one advantage.

• It's real.

• It sounds insane when you try to explain it, but you have genuine contact with people from Hell.

• There's just something about you that draws them in for some reason.

• This includes sinners who turned into "overlords," a concept you had to piece together from multiple people.

• Learning about Hell was fascinating, especially when you got into contact with more powerful entities.

• It started out simple, mostly succubi and inccubi, but then you got introduced to other hellborns, and eventually, nobility.

• To this day, most of your best friends are actually demons, disguising themselves to hang out with you.

• This includes your boyfriend, who is also the king of lust.

• After a normal day of work, you weren't expecting to be greeted by a king of sin, and yet there he was, in your living room.

• Asmodeus turned out to just be interested in knowing more about you, and you two ended up becoming friends by the time he had to leave.

• Over the course of a few months, Ozzie kept visiting you in the human realm, and you ended up growing close to him.

• Eventually, you asked him out on a date.

• Now, you were definitely nervous. You knew Ozzie had a boyfriend already, but he said that they were both open to having multiple partners.

• You almost backed out, but eventually (after hours of trying) you worked up the courage to ask.

• And since then, you two have been going steady.

• Ozzie even pops into your podcast every once in a while.

• He never says he's the Asmodeus, but he gives insight that sometimes even you don't have.

• And at the end of the day, Ozzie is just one ritual away from coming to say hello.

• Cuddles are common, especially after a bad day. (For either of you, by the way)

• Ozzie will also suprise you a decent amount, showing up without warning.

• He'll leave little gifts for you, mostly books and newspapers from Hell, but also some other cool stuff he'd think you like.

• Overall, you have a healthy relationship, and that makes you happy.

• Screw the people who poke fun at you for "pretending to be a psychic" or "being some occult weirdo," you've got a king of lust for a boyfriend. And you couldn't be happier.

#headcanon #helluva boss headcanon #helluva boss x reader #helluva boss asmodeus #asmodeus x reader #me being a geek

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elasticitymudflap · 7 months

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This is apparently hot take but I don't agree that Simon and Betty were bad for each other, or that their relationship was unhealthy in any way.

They had their own individual issues going on (who doesn't?) but it was nothing that couldn't be overcome. People are being way too judgemental

honestly me too... but then again my perception of them is more autism spectrum informed, so maybe im just being sensitive and stupid about it?

i also... kind of dont agree that leaving betty in the situation she is—as we currently know it to be—is all that fair to her. i see people saying things like 'they just need to get over each other/leave each other' and that simon just needs to accept things as they are now. and im like... idk man, i honestly don't think that's the tidy answer to all of this. because all of that has already happened in a way.

he's obviously exhausted every option of trying to bring her back, and much like the situation with margles, even prismo couldn't help her. from what we see in 'obsidian' and the end of 'come along with me', he obviously did try to live with the sacrifices she made for him and move on with his life. of course he would still try to save her, but i think it's pretty obvious that at some point he finally accepted that there is no way of saving her, and that this is just the way things are forever. his golb shrine/ritual items are an act of ultimate desparation; in the end he wasn't trying to summon golb to fix her or something, he was trying to portal himself to the golb dimension. i think he was completely aware that if he made it to the golb dimension that there was no hope of ever returning from there, and that doing this probably would kill him... but that would be fine with him, because at least he could see her one last time.

betty, and golbetty, could have made the choice to stay with him in ooo. either to escape golb's guts with him and endure the end of the world together, or to remain fused with golb and just let the world end with only he and her left alive... but she didn't. for all intents and purposes, she did let him go. she, and later whatever of her was left, made the choice to leave him, to banish herself from this realm and give him the opportunity to live his life. you can see it so clearly inside golb's guts that she's tormented by the situation she put them in, and that she feels extremely guilty for how her actions had led to their, and ooo's, downfall.

i know it still reinforces her cycle of self sacrificing behaviour... but to be fair, this is a much different situation than, like, conciously deciding not to go to australia to explore a new and exciting relationship. i think in that moment she realized, as she apologizes to him for "messing everything up", that there was no way of them both getting out of this alive, and that it was her descisions that ultimately doomed them to this fate. so she literally let him go, shoved him out of her life, content with him to live his however he chooses now that he's freed from the curse in a world which she didn't destroy. remember that her wish to "banish golb" wouldn't have saved her, she would have been digested in the golb dimension had she been successful.

i'd even go so far as to say that maybe betty's wish came in clutch even earlier than episode 8; if she can actually control golb and portals to the golb dimension, there's no way she would have granted him passage, as it would basically be suicide. so maybe that flash of golb's face during the initial ritual was her using her influence to redirect the spell to open the portal to the universe in his head? she doesn't want to see him because of what "seeing her" means, she doesn't want him to kill himself for her, and i think that's pretty fucking reasonable. now, however, it's the only way to save him, so she has finally, begrudgingly, granted him passage.

i have no idea how this whole thing is going to wrap up, but in the end i dont entirely agree with the sentiment that they need to 'let each other go', because they already did that to an extent. i think they need to talk to each other, work their existing issues out, and see where things unfold from there. but again, im probably just being sensitive and stupid about it.

#also i think if your wife becomes god you're allowed to go a little crazy about it

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a-local-idiots-shitpost · 6 months

Text

Wildcard#1 Thirteen with an Undead!Mc

this piece belongs to this and has 848 Words

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was it a bad idea to let them keep living after dying and getting brought back as an undead? yeah completely being undead just made them even more reckless than before, but is it the best mistake she ever did and would never take back? yes Thirteen doesn´t regret a thing and would always do it again

also dying and coming back is just a normal tuesday for them so what would have changed if they died? Hell if their afterlife would have been in the Devildom or the Celestial Realm she knows they would have found a way to stay with everybody they care about or even found a way to continue living, she just made it easy for them by just letting them keep going

it was also influenced by her own feelings for them but she already had that discussion with somebody and she doesn´t want to keep thinking about that sham of a Sorcerer, unless it involves planning his Death than it would be something she would gladly think and talk about

back to the important things though, no matter what could have happened she knew they could easily come back for better or for worse at least in this situation considering most cases like this it was for the better, not just for them but everybody involved who knows what a crazy corpse with a bunch of Magic could do but considering they were always like this it wouldn´t have been anything new

also you have to eat Human flesh and drink blood but that also is nothing new and just another point to your “which is the more fucked up Human” score, unsurprisingly your now in a tie with Solomon and yes everybody knows you aren´t anymore but it´s to funny to stop now

“did you just another point to the score board?” and there they are, as if somebody summoned them… or they just got better at sneaking around the House

“I remembered we never added a point for cannibalism”

“I´m not Human anymore so no cannibalism”

“you ate it even before dead” they just shrugged “I also ate Angel and Demon flesh so no surprise there”

“for most people doing or even worse admitting this isn´t an everyday thing”

“yeah living with Demons does that to you” Thirteen can believe that, when those guys are involved they always get into trouble she´s more surprised by the fact that nobody ever died in their weird and sometimes ridiculous adventures “I feel like getting killed multiple times by them isn´t the worst thing that happened to you”

“ugh don´t remind me after my first death they were far to carefree in how they should act around me, I swear I can still feel my broken bones” Thirteen doesn´t doubt it, I mean they said it was a nice way to go but Beel literally hugged them to Death once so she wouldn´t be surprised if some were still broken, healing your body is kinda weird when the heart stops but the flesh still moves

“that´s just how Demons are though most of them tend to be even worse, and other Demon would have gladly eaten you” or worse Thirteen had to fight plenty of Demons to get back some souls they devoured “just saying I mean Belphie threw me down the stairs yesterday” oddly enough they had more of a fond look on their face more than anything almost like it was a good memory “and you didn´t break anything? wow I´m impressed usually when you fall you claim your really hurt and need somebody to carry you or does that only happen when I´m around?” they seemed a bit embarrassed by this just the look she wanted to see it´s always fun to tease them a bit

“okay but even if I did it on purpose do you know how many would kill to be in you position?”

“Seven rulers of Hell, two Angels, a Human Sorcerer and a Butler, the future Ruler of the Devildom and a Royal Demon that acts like he hates you” they thought for a moment but then nodded “gonna be honest the biggest surprise is that you think Raphael would want to spend time with me”

“my biggest surprise is that you would even think that, after Asmo your the most wanted person and not just in the Criminal sense”

“to bad for everybody else I already have somebody else, because the one I like the most is the Reaper who constantly tries to murder my kinda teacher and friend” Thirteen scoffed “thanks to him were in all of this trouble anyway, don´t even get me started on how difficult it was getting your soul back into the body” she hesitated for a moment “though as difficult as it will be I might have to thank him for getting you back”

“aww I knew you loved me”

“I take it back he should have just let you rot and kept letting your soul wander around until the end of time”

“I love you too Thirteen”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me fanfiction #obey me fic #obey me fanfic #obey me thirteen x mc #obey me thirteen #obey me thirteen x reader

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reclusiverisottonero · 9 months

Text

𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐍𝐨𝐰

Current Place ➸ Prologue ✫ Ao3 Link ⤷ To Next Chapter (coming soon!)

✦ Demon!Risotto Nero/afab!Reader

✦ 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞: GN pronouns; afab body type, but no body parts described in this chapter ✦ 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬/𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫: None unless my limited knowledge of witchcraft counts as something you need to be mentally prepared to put up with. Though there will eventually be smut, and it will be top reader. ✦ 𝐀𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: Thank you to @phvntom-limbs for beta on this chapter! Your input is greatly appreciated. ♥ ✦ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Trying to summon a demon as a get-rich-quick scheme is not the brightest idea you’ve ever had. An error in the ritual causes you to summon the wrong demon, with no way for them to return to hell unless certain criteria are met. Too bad the ambiguity of the pact you've messed up leaves you both stumbling to figure out what they are.

It’s taken months of deep diving into the shady, esoteric, and downright weird parts of the internet to figure out what is legitimate information about witchcraft and summoning demons; and what’s hippie crystal healing self-improvement bullshit. You don’t need guided meditation and inner peace, what you need is to pay your fucking bills and put food in your fridge. Deep breathing exercises to align your chakras while balancing rose quartz on your palms isn’t what’s going to keep a roof over your head.

All of your research led you to the location of a historical auction soon to take place at a privately owned, small scale museum that’s dedicated to the history of the occult. They were desperate for funding, and a book that dozens of witches on the forum you’d lurked were swearing was the real deal, was one of the many items up for grabs. The news of its auction spread like wildfire in the niche community, and the scathing posts between members already fighting to out bid each other and get their hands on something so rare had been a good night of entertainment.

Too bad for them, that auction is never going to happen.

Hidden away in such a small, antiquated museum, stealing it had been laughably easy. Your knowledge about the book and feigned determination not to see the establishment shut down had the curator jump at your offer to selflessly volunteer without question. Afterwards, all it took was a few innocent questions about your well-being in a crime ridden area to learn the security cameras were just for show, then a bit of kissing up here and there to the right people, and the next thing you knew a copy of keys to the building were yours. The safe deposit box containing the book was out of the door in your bag a few days later.

Looking at it now, what’s supposed to be a centuries old tome doesn’t exactly feel or look like it. Online images had shown the cover as an ancient, withered old thing, the pages tinged a sickly yellow with muddy brown splotches across the pages. This grimoire made to summon creatures from the other side of this realm of existence to fulfill whatever your heart’s desire; looks more like something from Barnes & Noble’s New Age section. So pristine that you can practically smell the classic new book scent as it wafts up from every flip of the page.

No way the museum would have the foresight to switch the original book out with whatever this was. How could they begin to anticipate someone would want this old thing bad enough to go through as much trouble as you have in getting it? Though as untouched by time as it looks, from what you can tell the materials used and technique of its construction are clearly of the time period of its supposed origin. Had they hired a professional to restore it, like you’ve seen people do with paintings in viral videos? That has to be it and you refuse to believe otherwise, not after all the time you’ve invested into this.

The meager space of your living room is cleared out in record time to work on setting up what you need to do this ritual. It has to be followed to the letter, the consequences of fucking any part of this up is something you don’t want to even begin to dwell on.

With summoning glyph painted into the wooden laminate floor and all the herbs, crystals, and animal bones needed in their proper positions on it, you hold the grimoire in one hand with a knife in the other and begin to read the incantation aloud. You’re undeterred as the bergamot leaves start to singe around their edges, voice unwavering and confident when the bones splinter and crack. The small pieces of garnet rattle against the veneer as you continue, the noise becoming harsher when you bring the knife to the meat of your palm for the finale of all of this fanfare.

It takes but a single drop of your blood hitting the edge of the glyph for a multitude of things to happen all at once: a large surge in electricity makes the lights go on the fritz, the delicate bulbs shatter from above and smoke pouring from the wiring as the room’s temperature sharply rises. Your furniture rattles and creaks before a pulsing wave of energy spreads out from the center of the room to knock you off your feet. Crashing to the floor, a sharp, tinny sound hits your eardrums as pieces of metal break away from the everyday items in your flat to slowly rise up in the air.

Scissors whirl past from behind and graze your arm. Its stinging pain threatens to make the rising panic burst your heart, and you watch as they fly into the smoky abyss forming over the summoning circle. Some screws shoot past your head, a cluster of loose change hits your back before you’re able to roll yourself out of its path. More metal bits and chunks from things you’ve not given a second thought about are pulled in by whatever magnetic force is making itself known right now, disappearing into the thick smoke swirling around faster and faster. It takes the knives in your kitchen coming from around the corner to finally have you consider that maybe demon summoning as a get-rich-quick scheme was not the brightest idea you’ve ever had.

Through the smoke you see the silhouette of a body taking shape. Metal grinds against metal, your temples pounding from the sound as the amalgamation writhes and twists and groans into something massive. When the swirling veil of smoke evaporates it leaves behind a horned man, with hair as white as moonlight and eyes burning bright like red hot coals that lock directly on you. Each silent step he makes forwards pushes the fear in your chest higher into your throat until he’s towering from above your spot on the floor, tall and thick and broad and very, very naked.

Realistically you know it was likely the demon you hoped to conjure would look nothing like the sketches you’ve seen, but this is far from what you’ve envisioned the appearance of a demon to be like. It’s hard to focus on his looks any further when the way he stares through you with a tilt of his head leaves you wanting to sink through the floor. Between the shock of this actually working, the fact that he’s nothing like you thought he would be, and wondering how you’re going to excuse the multiple noise complaints your neighbors have surely given the landlord by now; a pathetic, shaky little exhale is all you can find the energy to greet him with.

Of all the things he could do in response, this demonic mass of raw power slowly gets on one knee before you and says, “Master.”

His word triggers another round of metallic ringing in your ears as light bursts from his neck and wrists, forming into a thick set of cuffs and a collar. Shielding yourself from the intense burst you have to do a double take as your own wrist glows just as strongly, a much thinner chain wrapping around it to lay lightweight across your skin. Signs of the pact that’s now in play. The demon stays in his place throughout the light show, his eyes following your rise onto wobbly legs when you’re no longer blinded from it.

All of your hard work has led up to this point. Too late to back out now even if you wanted to, but you’re fully prepared to exchange anything the demon wants for your own gain. You square your shoulders and straighten out your posture to do your best to compensate for how huge the demon is compared to you even while on his knees, channel the emotions roiling in your gut to force yourself to sound as authoritative as you can.

“What is your name, demon?” The question is part of the ritual, exchanging formalities is crucial to setting up a good rapport so it can lead to a negotiation that doesn’t involve your soul being what’s exchanged or getting killed on the spot.

Said demon’s full lips curl up in a hint of a smirk, red eyes looking you over for a moment before he deigns to answer, “I’ve gone by many names, but the one that has always been easiest for humans to pronounce is Risotto Nero.”

Your moment of bravado is short lived, as when he shares his name, cold dread shoots through your veins at the realization this is not the demon you had originally intended to summon.

➸ Next. (coming soon!)

#risotto nero x reader #risotto x reader #risotto nero #jjba #jjba risotto #risotto nero jjba #my writing #work in progress

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npcemi · 10 months

Text

The long road of how starting a fight with superman over clone parenting eventually lead to Danny Phantom become God Part 4.5 and 5: Aftermath + Promotions and Shattering Mirrors

Superman collapsed to his knee as the other members of the justice league went to his side. Superman couldn’t believe what he just experienced. The league had never faced a threat this powerful. To summon both a black hole and create a star out of nothing. His eyes still hurt from even looking at whatever that thing was-- He knew they couldn’t let a threat like that go unchecked.

Constantine appeared through a portal, “Oh now you show up!” Superman said in an incredulous breath.

“Oh, I’ve been here since King Phantom kicked your ass out a window, I’m just not so cotton headed I’d try and fight the King of the Infinite realms.” Superman scoffed at Constantine’s words and turned to Batman, “Bruce we need to figure out some kind of contingency…” The leader of the Justice League Dark cut him off,

“Oh, fuck no mate, you’re benched. You stick to Metropolis !”

“You have no right!”

“Actually this contract you lot signed when you begged me to be the leader of your precious little supernatural branch says I can!” Constantine summoned a roll of parchment that unrolled revealing the document with the original JLA member's signatures.

“That’s only if one of us angers a celestial angel or some higher-level entity.” Wonderwoman pointed out as the blonde occult detective pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Who do you think is the King…”

“Just because he is the ruler of his own dimension doesn’t mean he…” Constantine really was starting to get what Phantom meant when he called the man of steel an obstinate dick.

“All of the realms, High King Phantom rules over all of the realms. Ours and any in existence. In all of Anu, there is no realm that King Phantom does not have sovereignty over.

Do you really think any of the ancients have time or care to mess about in random realities?

No, they normally have nothing to do with them, do you have any idea of how bad things have gotten? Between the GIW and you Clark, I am honestly surprised our reality still exists. So yes, you are benched!” At the end of Constantine’s rant Superman stood up.

“You really think a piece of paper will…AH!” The man of steel screamed as electricity overcame his body. When it was over he once again collapsed to his knees. Constantine walked over to tower over Superman,

“And you thought the contract you all signed wouldn’t be magically binding, are you daft ?” Constantine then turned to look Bruce directly in the eye. Constantine knew the man too well.

“And you, no looking up or into anything about Phantom!” Batman held his hands up in surrender,

“I promise I will not look up or into Danny Phantom.” Constantine’s eyes narrowed before he turned and left through a portal muttering something about attempting to salvage this situation.

_____________________________________________________________

Jazz Fenton was in a great mood. Her degree was almost finished and she just got a paid internship that would turn into a full-time position once she graduated. She would be a liaison for any cases that involved the infinite realms. Her new org worked with a lot of supers and villains. It was headed by Dinah Lance and Harley Quinn. Most people thought it was a little weird, but she knew that heroes, villains, and even the dead needed help with their mental health.

She was just finishing organizing her desk when her boss called to her and told her to follow.

“Yes, Miss Lance.” She said,

“Dinah, we aren't too formal around here.”

“Right, Dinah.” Jazz said as they both took a seat in Dinah’s office,

“Look, Jazz we have a special case coming in today:” Jazz was surprised they were already letting her work on cases.

“What is it?”

“One of the main league members is being brought in, he’s having some trouble adjusting to the fact he was cloned and according to the leader of Dark, he also angered some supernatural entity and is according to Constantine, the aforementioned leader, is acting like a stubborn fuckwit who needs to pull his own dick out of his arse.” Dinah read off of the referral form she got.

“I’ll help however I can, when are they coming?”

“Right about now,” Dinah said as a portal opened and John Constantine walked in followed by Clark and Conner Kent. John introduced himself and his tagalongs.

“And this is my associate, Jasmine Fenton,” Dinah said as Constantine’s jaw dropped and he failed to take a puff of the cigarette he had been smoking. “Did you say, Fenton?”

Jazz was about to respond when she looked at Clark. There was something off about the man in glasses. Something that was resonating with her being, like his very soul angered her, and then she remembered who Clark really was under the glasses.

The man who had caused such a bad PTSD episode in her brother that he cried in her arms for over two hours. The man who broke multiple taboos of the infinite realms. The man who hurt her brother. Her movement was faster than anyone had expected and came with more force than would be possible for even most metahumans. In that instance of realization, Jasmine Fenton closed the distance between the man of steel and herself and struck him so hard in the face that he collapsed to the floor in pain, hands to his face. Which was now gushing blood from his broken nose.

“How dare you!” She screamed. Conner and Dinah pulled her back as she continued to scream.

“How dare you ask a ghost about their death, how dare you make the King re-live that pain!” She was about to attack again when she was interrupted when Constantine asked, “Sweetheart, you know you’re glowing green right?”

“Shit!” The redhead calmed as much as she could, she took a device out of her pocket. She turned it on and saw her ambient ecto plasma was higher than normal. She clicked a button and a sensor popped out the side of the device.

She cut her finger with one of her fangs and dropped some blood on the sensor. She was thankful her blood was still red, but it was darkening into a muddy colour with a slight greenish glow. The device told her her blood ectoplasm level was at 8%, way lower than normal. The machine also indicated her heightened emotions and that if she didn’t calm down she might die right there in the office.

“What is that?” Conner asked not caring if his original was still on the ground trying to stop his nose bleeding.

“It’s a device that measures ectoplasm levels. Ambient levels, levels with a particular signature, and blood ectoplasm concentration.” she sighed and calmed down.

“Why do you need it?” Conner asked curiously despite Constantine's glare telling him he was being rather rude.

“I’m a death-leaning liminal, the smelly blonde man can explain later.” She said as there was a flash of flames.

“Jasmine, are you alright?” Everyone turned to see a nearly seven-foot Dracula knockoff with red eyes.

“Yes, I just let my anger get ahead of me, I'm fine.” She said, trying to waive off the ghost who then pulled out a vile of a green glowing liquid and attempted to hand it over to her.

“Vlad, I’m fine.” She said as he put the vial in her hands.

‘I’m sure our loving patriarch would love it if you died because of all of your ectoplasm burning up and became a full ghost before he did.” Jazz begrudgingly drank the vile, knowing how much shit Danny would give her if she died.

“Honestly I don’t know what would cause a normally level-headed young woman to lash out like her feral niece.” Jazz pointed over to Superman who was now in one of the chairs. Vlad scowled,

“Do you want me to take care of that for you?” He said in disgust. Everyone’s eyes went wide at the implied threat, Constantine prepared a portal to run, Dinah prepared to fight and Conner was right behind Constantine. After what he saw in Dani's mirror, he didn’t want anything to do with an angry ghost.

“It’s fine you can leave.” Jazz said.

“Can I expect you all at the Keep this weekend?’ he asked.

“Yes,” She said as Vlad teleported in a flash of flames and was gone. Jazz looked up to see Dinah looking at her wide-eyed. The realization she had just punched a client finally settled in,

“I’m fired aren’t I?”

_______________________________________________________________

Danny heard a knock at the door and went to open it and looking at him was Bruce Fucking Wayne.

“What do you want.”

“I wanted to talk to you about something, and make sure you and Danielle are safe.” Danny immediately moved to shut the man up.

“Shush, don’t say her name or talk about her here, my parents don’t know about her!” Bruce's face softened. Danny led them out of the house and brought them to a more private alleyway, which made the dark knight feel more at home.

“I’m not sorry about what I did to Superman,” Danny said getting down to business.

“I’m not expecting you to be. Both Constantine and I have tried to talk with him before, but now we’re forcing him into therapy. I think you did exactly what he needed.” he was shocked by Bruce's words. Even the Observants yelled at him about what he did, all the clockwork said in his defense was say “Everything is as it should be.”

“Oh, what do you want with me then?”

“My associate oracle looked into Danny Fenton, and we found you live with ghost hunters and were concerned about you and your daughter’s safety.”

“We’re fine.” Danny snapped and Bruce held his hands up defensively before handing him a small card.

“I just wanted you to know if there was anything you need, or if you have to escape we can provide assistance.” Danny looked at the man skeptically,

“So this isn’t like some crazy scheme to adopt me?” Bruce had to rip his earpiece due to the collective volume of the snickers.

“No.”

“Good because that wouldn’t turn out how you think it would.” Bruce gave him a look that told him to explain and Danny sighed.

“A fruit loop named Vlad Plasmius was college friends with my parents. He likes my mom. There was an accident, he was hospitalized and got ghost powers. Many years later he tried to kill my dad, marry my mom, and make me his son. It never worked.” Danny shook his head and continued.

“After I became King, I was able to learn of his obsession with family and love,” Danny remembered how he learned of Vlad’s true obsession, realizing that he must have been alone and abandoned in the hospital room when he died.

“After he shot me in the chest because he was mind controlled. I decided as the more powerful ghost to give him what he desired in a way.” Danny snickered.

“I ghost-adopted him, effectively making him my son as far as ghosts are concerned, he’s much happier now, but he is still a little salty.” Bruce looked at him dumbfounded, Danny was glad Vlad could fulfill his obsession even if it did make him a bit of a mother hen.

“But yea I wouldn’t recommend trying to adopt me.” The rest of their conversation went smoothly and no offers for adoption were made. When they got back to Fenton's works, Jazz and another red-headed woman were sitting at the table. She introduced herself as Barb. They engaged in a basic conversation about ghosts. Until Danny asked,

“How was your first day of your internship?” Jazz sighed with a dejected look,

“I got promoted.” Before Danny could ask why she sounded like that was a bad thing, Jack and Maddie came bursting in showing off their latest captured ghost with proud grins. They were testing out a new time of large containment device that would allow them to study ghosts in real-time.

Jazz’s hands went straight to her mouth, her eyes wide, glowing, and dripping tears of rage. Bruce turned to look at Danny who was wide-eyed as his eyes began to change, his hair whitening as he looked at the small white-haired ghost in the container. He was breathing to try and calm himself down.

“Daddy help!” Danielle screamed as the containment device shocked her.

All light ceased to exist in that room all anyone could see was an endless black.

#danny fenton #superman #danny pulls a reverse uno on vlad #dpxdc #dpxdc au #bruce wayne #batman #john constantine #jazz fenton #RIP Jack and Maddie Fenton #Bruce is an alley gremlin and you can't tell me otherwise

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