The League tried to interrupt a summoning of a powerful being from the Infinite Realms. From the information they collected, the being isn't of the status of a royalty, but they still had to be careful as the being the summoners tried to call forth was still of noble status.
They failed.
The head cultist finished the ritual, the last words to finish the summoning left their tongue and the room was suddenly doused in heat, as black flame came to life from within the circle, twisting and turning, back and forth until a pair of red eyes suddenly flashed from inside the twisting pillar of flame and just as suddenly as the eyes appeared, was the pillar broken apart.
What was left behind was the figure of a giant phoenix, wings spread as embers black as night gently fell down to the floor below and suddenly disappearing, as if they were never there in the first place.
"Who dares to disturb-" The being started, eyes scanning the crowd below before stilling, extremely and worryingly quiet. One of them quietly cursed. "Constantine..." The creature's voice was low, dangerously low, no doubt anger in its voice as it called out the Warlock's name.
Everyone tensed, expecting something dangerous, except for the cultists, and the Head, who turned his head towards them and smiled, obviously expecting them to be reduced to not even ash.
"100 years. One. Hundred. Years." The being spoke, and confusion wormed its way into the hearts of all those present. "100 years I have waited for you, and when we finally meet once again it's not even you summoned me but these-" The creature waved a wing at the cultist below. "-These fatuous and vacuous little things."
"And what is this? You surrounded yourself with those not even of human birth before you have even thought about me?" The noble's eyes narrowed. "Did our relationship mean nothing to you?
Someone, probably not Constantine, choked.
"Well then, after all of this time you can at least make yourself useful." In a flash of black fire, Constantine was brought from within the ranks of heroes and in front of the beast, a man who seemed to be trying to-and unsuccessfully- lighting a smoke. "Ah, why do that when you have me?" The being purred, bending down to apparently light a smoke before freezing, as if remembering what exactly it was doing, but the action was already done, and Constantine was killing his lungs away.
The phoenix snapped back up to standing above everyone else, clearing its throat as if what happened decidedly didn't happen.
"What exactly did you want me to be useful for, love?" Constantine asked, expelling the smoke from his lungs and deciding that this might as well be happening. The noble huffed, folding its wings at its sides as it stared down at its apparent lover. "Take care of our son for once in your sad, pathetic life."
This time, not only did Constantine choke, but a good chunk of people there did as well. Constantine ran a hand through his hair, looking up at the phoenix incredulously. "Aren't we both men?"
The phoenix looked at his lover as if he were stupid. "Your point?"
"I-" Constantine sighed, took a breath, held, then expelled more smoke from his lungs. Apparently, he decided not to question anything anymore. "You know what? Sure, where is the little bugger?"
Over the next few moments, both the Justice League and Cultists were treated to the noble transforming into a human (still having wings) and handing over their apparent child-who looked nothing like them by being a dragon, but who were they to question the apparent reproduction of a being from the Infinite Realms- and being lectured about what not to do and what to do and how he should be cared for.
Also, a warning for his many powers.
Then the Duke stole a kiss (One that he claimed was long overdue) and left.
The room was silent, only the sounds of breathing occupying the room as the temperature was brought back down to normal levels.
A moment later, Batman walked up to the nearby cultist and punched him across the face and knocking him out cold, suddenly reminding everyone what exactly they were here for.
A while later, in the meeting room, everyone looked at Constantine. Who had a baby eastern dragon wrapped around one arm (who was apparently his child) and rubbing his temple with the other.
"I can't explain this."
===
Danny was actually not Constantine kid, neither was he Vlad's. Biologically, at the very least, however. Vlad did adopt both him and Jasmine a while back after their whole parent fiasco.
They're dead, sadly unable to become ghosts, or perhaps not so sadly.
Of course, they unfortunately outlived Jasmine, which was to be expected, but Vlad and Danny did grow close enough that they no longer viewed each other as enemies.
However, who could have expected that Danny, finally ascending to his princely status, would turn him back into a literal child because he was, for all intents and purposes, one by Dragon standards.
Utter malarkey, he would say.
Taking care of that boy was the worst few memories he has ever had. He was constantly being kept from his sleep, his work being interrupted constantly, and the child managed to find a way to leave his sight at each and every turn.
But there were some sweet moments, he would say.
It's only reasonable, however, that his lover (who he hasn't seen for an entire century might he add) share the workload.
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"Oh no, someone's attracted to the aesthetics of my -punk movement but doesn't know the praxis and history behind it like I do--"
OK. Tell them. Make it a teaching moment. Everyone who's in your movement learned the background from somewhere at some point, maybe this is that point for that person. Give them a jumping off point that they can dive into later.
"Oh but I shouldn't be responsible for teaching baby -punks about the history and the how-tos and--"
OK. Then don't tell them. You don't have to be responsible for teaching people with a budding interest in your group the ins and outs and how-tos. That's fair and valid! It can be a lot of work. Someone else will handle it
"But I'm annoyed that they would try to claim to be part of/be interested in my community without knowing all the details that I know after being in it for months/years/decades, they're dumb, they're posers, they're--"
OK. Then don't engage with them, if it's that bad. Maybe someone else will come around and tell them the history, maybe they'll pick it up on their own, maybe they'll just enjoy the fashion elements for awhile.
"But they shouldn't claim to be part of the -punk community if they don't know the--"
I feel like we have a few options here. People can either talk to them, share the history, share the values, share the praxis. Or they can just chase off anyone who even thinks about dipping a toe in their community, and then wonder why it's dying off later down the line.
I dunno, maybe I'm too naive and patient or whatever. But if people are entering your -punk spaces without knowing The Rundown of what you feel they need to know, maybe being nice about it and informing people instead of immediately assuming stupidity and malicious intent could help you make a new friend. Even the loudest voices in a space had to learn from somewhere, and not everyone has the luxury of being in the space as the History was Happening--whether it's an age thing or a not being aware of the space thing. Or maybe I just don't see what the big deal is behind people hating people who like the aesthetic of something and don't know the behind the scenes history about it yet.
Because I believe in the word 'yet.' No one comes into this world knowing everything about everything, and we're all constantly learning new things. I'm not gonna degrade someone and call them a poser for not knowing what I know. Because if it were me, interested in a scene but getting chased out and called a poser? I wouldn't hit the books and study up, I'd go 'that fuckin sucks, those people sucked' and then avoid anyone and anything having to do with it.
So chase people off and call them posers if you want. But if your community starts dwindling, don't be fucking shocked.
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