Her Astrophel and Sterling
hmmm
Hmmmmmmmm
You know what.
You know those AU's where the Batfam finds or learns about either hidden or thought to be dead Al Ghul Danny! with a deaged/daughter Dani (Ellie) (I should know, I created a few of those storylines) but what if, now hear me out, what if instead of them finding Danny first its Talia.
Do I want Talia discovering her thought to be dead son to be alive? Yes. Do I want her to find him while investigating Amity Park when the League gets reports of 'Lazarus creatures/water'? Yes.
DO I WANT HER TO KNOCK ON THE FENTON'S DOOR, fully ready to pretend/honey talk her way into the house to uncover what the Fenton's know, ONLY TO MEET A LITTLE ELLIE?!
YES.
Ellie whose eyes and hair look like a copy of her Beloved but she can see bits and pieces of herself as well. Talia knows the child in front of her was not fully her's though but everything makes sense when she hears a voice, a voice she hasn't heard in ages but as a mother just knows, speak out.
"Ellie! I thought I said do not answer the door my Sterling."
"But Daddy, yous was busy fighting the hotdoggys!"
Talia's eyes widen when she finally catches sight of familiar black hair and blue eyes.
and she could only lightly whisper a old nickname she hasn't dared uttered in ages, a name she secretly gave her son due to his love of the stars "Astrophel..."
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(Shh, i know rental pokemon aren’t a thing in BW2, but counterpoint: i refuse to speedrun the nimbasa poke team. And also i REALLY want to draw galarian and kantonian ponyta.
I like to imagine rental pokemon are pokemon who sign a contract to competitive sports, and in return for their cooperation they get free exp, items, and even tms. Thinking about how pokemon mystery dungeon teams work, mmm.)
Black City my beloved! It’s a perfect place to hang if you love competitive pokemon battling.
Masterlist for more pokemon nonsense!
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you know those mainstream pieces of fiction where they try to do, like, a "nuanced" take on feminism by showing some sort of all-female separatist group and saying "misogyny is bad but so is being mean to men :("? those always really get my goat, because like. female separatism has all sorts of really glaring problems that you can make interesting commentary about, but "being too mean to men" is only maybe the fourth or fifth most pressing issue.
the glaring primary issues are the transphobia / racism / classism / etc that are kind of inherent to separatist spaces due to the whole, yknow, everything about how radical feminism came about and developed over the last few decades, but even if your piece of pop media doesn't have enough political teeth to get into all of that then why are you covering feminist topics in the first place lmao there's still the massive problem that all kinds of separatist spaces are high control groups. they encourage disconnection from the "outside world" so that the group can build up a real us vs them complex and the leaders can exert high levels of control over members' behavior and punish people who step out of line. but uhhh I guess reverse misogyny is worse than being a cult, sorry.
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John Constantine was in prison.
No, not a normal, mortal prison. Those wouldn't be able to hold him like this one does.
No, he's imprisoned in the Infinity Realm.
The warden of the establishment is Walker, someone whose blood sings Witch Hunter.
If that wasn't bad enough, with every second, it gets worse. Angels decided to interfere in a realm not in possession of their God.
Who's idea was it to go against the Infintiy Realm? Are they nuts?
"John Constantine," One of the messangers steps forward. There is no weapon in sight, yet.
"Under the scrutiny of Heaven, we were sent to retrieve you for a trial." Their voice clipped, blond hair shimmering a soft green and John is sweating buckets.
"Your deals with various demon folk and such shall be judged unter gods court and—"
A loud bang echoes through the hall, Walker's men are surrounding the beings of heaven and particular brave soul steps forward.
The lad is young, can't be older than Bat's Robin. He walks with an air of authority, white hair floating against gravity's rules and towering before the flock of messangers.
"How dare—"
The boy, the godling– growls.
He blocks their view of Constantine, staring them down.
Some of the angels fall back, wings arched and ready for a fight, weapons still not in sight however.
"I am Phantom, King of God's of the Infinity Realm." The child with a title too much for such small shoulders bear, introduces himself.
It sends the flock into mild panic. Constantine is just a bit satisfied at the change.
"Returns to your god and tell him this, every Constantine bearing the title Laughing Magician is under my protection."
For such a small stature, his voice is booming, the command thinly veiled as a threat and icicles forming around him.
"Tell him that if he ever dares to breach my territory once more, I will not hesitate to call war upon heaven."
The main angel of the flock, the one that had read out Constantines sentence, hesitated only for a moment before urging the others to leave.
Posture stiff and movements jerky.
They didn't expect to be told off like this, John muses.
He only slightly dreads when phantoms attention drifts to him finally, a light knock on the metal bars and the whole wall was gone.
"Follow me, John Constantine."
And John does.
He'll sweet talk himself out of this on the way to his doom. Like always.
—
("Unpopular belief, but I actually quite like you." Danny had stated once in the garden, sitting on a table and drinking tea. John hadn't touched his cup nor desert at all, cannot trust those of the infinite after all.)
(A rip into the green before them had created a portal, a gateway.
"Leave, Laughing Magician. Hold onto that necklace, it will ward off anyone with the intent to harm and deals as a warning to those working for the immortal."
And as John steps forward, his eyes meet toxic green.
"We will see one another again, sooner or later. Farewell, Jester."
The portal spat him out in his apartment in New York, if it wasn't for the protection charm, Constantine would have believed it to be a mere dream. A warning.)
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