#⛥ knock three times :: reply ⛧

[laughing-hellblazer]

@arcanescholxr from [x]

It came out of the boy like a flood -- difficult to understand though the tears and choked sobs. Then the reality of the situation sank in past the surprise, and John's eyes widened with shock. Elias' twin brother had rarely been the topic of conversation, but he knew some of the worse details.

It was a story that could have reflected his own, had his twin been successfully born. Everett was the favorite, the golden boy, while Elias was the unwanted outcast. The Blackburns took it a step above by setting them against each other in a duel to the death, one that Elias barely escaped from.

That was the big secret of Elias Blackburn's life, or so John had thought.

Here, in front of him, crying and scared, was the real secret. He knew Elias well enough to take a guess at the con he'd been pulling. He'd kept himself and Dwight a secret from the Blackburns. He had to, didn't he? They wanted him dead, either in their past or their present.

"Right, then." John dipped down onto one knee to be at eye level with the kid, taking him up by the shoulders to hold him steady. "We'll get this sorted. I have some ideas, but let's not jump to that just yet. Tell me what's happened. How did he find out about you?"

[laughing-hellblazer]

She was sharp, that was clear enough, now. He gave her a look, eyes only slightly widened in surprise that she'd caught on so quickly. The look grew into a smirk of acknowledgement, and he shrugged his shoulder before saying, "Could be. Wouldn't be the first time I lucked into a decent woman pulling me back from the brink." Thoughts of Kitt Ryan came to mind, but were quickly shoved aside for the fear of stirring up old, sad feelings.

As the cab drove them to their destination, he took the time to take another drag off his cigarette, blowing it out the window and away from Eido. Something gave him the idea that she wasn't exactly a smoker, herself.

"Tell me, Eido," he started, tipping his head in her direction while casting a curious gaze. "How long have you had the tricks? You come off as pretty experienced with it all."

She squinted in faint amusement as she climbed in on the other side, silently grateful that he was keeping most of his smoke outside the cab.

“Luck, huh? …Wonder if it was because of luck that we ended up here at the same time, looking for the same thing,” she said. 

It seemed that way. If she hadn't been here to help with the ghost, would he have ended up another victim? Would just having another person be there be effective, or was it better that someone with her abilities was going after a mirror-trapped spirit? She'd never put much thought into… fate or luck or coincidence. She made her own way, or tried to. 

That didn't change the fact that some things connected in odd ways indeed.

“Does that kind of thing happen often?”

[laughing-hellblazer]

[@arcanescholxr || cont. from x]

"I can and I will," John said as he lit a cigarette in the obviously marked non-smoking room.

The kid had gotten himself into a right mess, grabbing the attention of a magic-eating spirit. It would drain him dry the next time it saw him, like a vampire for wizards. The only choice was to keep the witchling in one location and track the thing down. Or maybe, just maybe, lure it there instead. More risk to poor Dwight, but easier for him. Slowly, he began to lower the ward around the hotel room, inviting the spirit to wander closer.

He took his coat off of the rack, beginning to slip it over his shoulders. "Now try and leave and I'll cast a binding spell to keep your feet stuck to the carpet like glue."

[laughing-hellblazer]

@sanguine-salvation [x]:

“What? A little shaken about what it might say about you that I have so much in common? Oh well, the mirror can be scary. Your loss, my dear.”

"Don't get me wrong. I've got plenty of bats in my belfry, but you're a right piece of work, there."

"Besides, two Constantines dead to serial killers is enough for me. Best not chance a third."

[laughing-hellblazer]

Kink meme: exhibitionism

[Send Me a Kink and I'll Rate It - Sinday Leftovers]

No | rather not | I dunno | I guess | Sure | Yes | FUCK yes | Oh god you don’t even know |

"Done it a few times. Some occasions for sex magic, others for fun. Always gives me a rush. Didn't think of it much before, but I'm beginning to see the benefits of a little showing off."

[laughing-hellblazer]

Darius stumbled hard against the hit, hissing with insult as his back made firm contact with the cabinet behind him. John savored his pain for a fleeting moment, but more quickly took note of Fei vaulting right over him on the table. A second of shock washed over him before the inevitable disorientation of blood loss wrapped its cold hands around him again.

Eyes fluttered as he struggled to keep himself awake, next rolling his head to look back at the nun as she was knocked backward by the forceful kick to her ribs. As she toppled into the wall, she yanked some hair from John's head, getting a yelp from him before a wheezing gasp. His head rolled to the side facing Darius, only to see that the vampire was no longer there.

He could barely think, let alone contemplate where Darius could have gone. The cool, velvety blanket of unconsciousness draped itself over him, and his eyes drew closed. His arm went limp, hanging over the edge of the bed beside him with a trickle of his blood dripping down onto the floor below.

Abbey, meanwhile, was very much awake, and fighting for her tainted vampiric life. She bellowed out a frustrated roar and grabbed for Fei's leg, turning to slam him into the wall beside her. "I hate having to work for my food!" she cursed out loud.

Fei felt those goosebumps biting at his skin as the doctor’s voice changed, a chill crawling down his spine, and as Sister Abbey’s hand only held tighter. He could hear the struggle and pain in his voice behind him. There it was, the worst kind of good guess, the one where you really wished you’d been wrong. Fei quickly moved to try and yank her hand off of John before he felt the sudden presence of a cold body peering over him. It was instinct.

Fei turned to try and put a guard up against the incoming threat, but— no, the doctor was way closer than he should have been, and icy breath poured over his neck with every word that creaked out of his mouth like the old wood of the house itself. He couldn’t see the fangs. He didn’t really need to.

Crap. -No shit.-

He felt something lurch in his throat as Abbey’s voice came in next, only to be shut down by just a look. His mind was racing for what to do first, he could feel a mouth looming over his throat, but he knew damned well that John was basically one bad move away from being dead before they came into a house of people who probably wanted to kill him faster than that.

But he steeled himself. Maybe if he could keep the guy’s attention? He wasn’t dead yet, so this Darius guy wasn’t exactly in a panic to get rid of him. Fei readied his hand, letting the doctor leer just a bit closer. “It’s not private anymore.” He frowned sharply, trying to ignore the ice in his gut. “So how about you back off, creep—”

And then he felt— and mostly smelled— hot blood splatter across his shoulder from behind. He fought the instinct to spin around first, but oddly enough, the doctor reeled away with a lot more pain than just getting blood in your eyes should have caused. Was he… was he sizzling!? Fei grimaced as he smelled what was way too close to burning flesh immediately stink up the air. And as much as he was trying to process that, there were way more urgent things to get to.

Namely, getting some space and fast.

Fei slammed his palm hard into the Doctor’s chest to send him back into the still open cabinet with a loud clatter, before looking over his shoulder at John, still trapped by the hair, but thankfully still alive despite the blood he left spattered wet across his back.

“I said let go!” He vaulted over the edge of the bed, and— while really trying to not see an elderly holy woman in the place of what was clearly not any normal old nun— took advantage of the sudden chaos and landed a strike on the ribs she had left exposed, ready to try and pull her back and away from him if her fingers gave in.

[laughing-hellblazer]

⛥ tag list ⛧

#⛥ child's play :: dash game ⛧

#⛥ ravenscar files :: headcanon ⛧

#⛥ thought boxes :: musings ⛧

#⛥ passing moments :: ic status ⛧

#⛥ bump in the night :: ask meme ⛧

#⛥ voices from beyond :: answer ⛧

#⛥ talking to ghosts :: drabble ⛧

#⛥ form the circle :: starter ⛧

#⛥ knock three times :: reply ⛧

#⛥ mucous membrane :: music ⛧

#⛥ another tool in the kit :: keepsake ⛧

#⛥ i'm john fucking constantine :: gallery ⛧

⛥ MOBILE UNDER CUT ⛧

#⛥ child's play :: dash game ⛧

#⛥ ravenscar files :: headcanon ⛧

#⛥ thought boxes :: musings ⛧

#⛥ passing moments :: ic status ⛧

#⛥ bump in the night :: ask meme ⛧

#⛥ voices from beyond :: answer ⛧

#⛥ talking to ghosts :: drabble ⛧

#⛥ form the circle :: starter ⛧

#⛥ knock three times :: reply ⛧

#⛥ mucous membrane :: music ⛧

#⛥ another tool in the kit :: keepsake ⛧

#⛥ i'm john fucking constantine :: gallery ⛧

[laughing-hellblazer]

“Look at that Johnny, I think we make a good pair~.”

"We made a great pair."

"Then we did what we do best. We ruined it."

[laughing-hellblazer]

@the-shattered-seas: Shit I’ve Said To My Cat :: “ what's in your mouth? ” --@laughing-hellblazer [ Shit I’ve Said To My Cat — sentence starters - ACCEPTING ] All six eyes went big and bright, pupils uncharacteristically round pools of abyss. Their tail flickered and their ear spines flared out like a fan. Their immense draconic form was arched over like an inchworm, primed like a vicious kitten rather than the Mother of All Dragons. And of course, as nature dictated, even up and far as the divine itself... They began chewing suspiciously faster with the crunchy sawblading of far too many gigantic teeth.

"Oi!" He could swear he saw something in there. Something that didn't belong in anyone's mouth, even the supposed god of dragons and dreams. And he wanted it.

He took a few steps to close the gap, an arm outstretched with little regard for its safety. "Go on, now. Spit it out for us. Call it a wish -- you're a wish dragon aren't you?"

[laughing-hellblazer]

He walks at Teddy's side, headed for the Lounge a few blocks away. Walking is his preferred method of travel, as noted by how well-worn his lace up loafers are. He takes a drag, then answers Teddy's question casually. "Already done my good deed for the week in helping a spirit cross over. Not sure he liked where he was going, but it's how things get sorted, in the end."

He shrugs his shoulders. "So my schedule is wide open for anything you have in mind, Scales," he dubs Teddy with the nickname passively, without room for input or denial. He just keeps walking along the sidewalk. He only pauses once they hit a traffic light, putting out his cigarette on the divider pole and flicking the butt into a near by trash can. "With all the bloody trash cans on every corner, you wonder why the place is so fucking dirty."

If Teddy knew, they'd throw hands. Maybe the Sex Pistols weren't "proper" punk, but any anti-occupation and anti-establishment band was, in his view, punk in some form. Hell, he wears his punk background on his chest, being decked out in an old black leather, studded jacket over his red jumper. Sweater dad who's not-so-secretly a metalhead.

"If they en't, my connections are enough to keep you from gettin' booted. Just... don't start any scraps and you should be fine. Anyone tries to start one with you, well. I have it handled."

He seems confident about this, a slightly smug expression on his face, and he wets his lips before resuming his toothy grin, walking abreast of him. "You know, after we're done at the Iceberg, good or bad, where you headed after this? Anywhere urgent?"

[laughing-hellblazer]

A sort of solemnness clung to him after he saw Dwight so apprehensive, like the reaction itself had brought up its own flurry of memories and traumas. John gave a little nod to Dwight, understanding his perspective entirely. He'd made a mess of it, hadn't he? Well, it was just as well. Poor kid would have gotten frightened off of him eventually.

But then came something he didn't expect. Dwight approached him with...a flower? At first he was baffled at the gesture, but as it was explained to him, John's confused stare turned soft. He very gingery took the flower from Dwight's hands, as if handling it too harshly would render it ash. it sat there in his hands, limp and delicate.

When he looked back at Dwight, he saw that expression of internal disappointment, and took in a breath as if he were about to speak. If only he could assure Dwight it wasn't his fault, and that there were no hard feelings, but it looked like they were, at least for now, past that point. No, best not to. There wasn't much he could say, now. Instead, he stood still watching Dwight as he walked away. He made no moves to follow, diverting to the path he knew better.

He looked back down at the flower in his hand, considering the risks of eating it without knowing what it really was. Could he trust that little witch, or was he really trying to eliminate a threat early? "Ah, sod it." He popped the flower into his mouth and chewed. Swallowing, the magic took effect, and just a bit of the raw discomfort he felt simply slipped away. "Huh. He wasn't lying." He smiled to himself.

He walked through the doors to the pub and right up to an empty seat at the bar. The barkeep looked his way with an inquisitive tip of her head. "What'll ya have, blondie?"

"Gin and tonic, love."

[ᴇ ɴ ᴅ.]

In this moment, Dwight replays the various instances of one of Elias’s enemies coming into Dwight’s life. There was the Spider Demon, the one who tricked Dwight into coming to Walden in the first place and almost made a quick snack of him. She poisoned the fledging witch and watched until his strength and will were reduced to nothing. Then there was the shapeshifter, slipping into a sickeningly familiar form to get Dwight to lower his guard, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Perhaps the most unnerving was the reminder Elias always drilled into him every chance he could find. The Blackburn family could never find out about Dwight’s existence. If Everett found out, if their grandfather found out…Dwight was always afraid of the look on Elias’s face when he mentioned it.

“Look, they’re not as understanding I’ve been kid. My folks are already pissed that I’m running our name through the mud, but if they found out I have a kid? I just…not sure how they’d react. But I know it won’t be good. Everett is going to be pissed I enrolled you, under his name. No one can find out. Especially your grandfather.”

“You mean your dad?”

“No, not him, I mean our grandfather. He’s the head honcho, and his word is practically law. What I’m getting at Dwight, just don’t let them find out that you exist okay?”

When Dwight came back, he was still watching John carefully, awaiting any sign that John would turn on him. And it never came. He tried not to flinch when John walked past him, not waiting up for Dwight to follow. He watched as John walked away, still holding his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. It happened so many times before, why would now be any different? Dwight was always running from something, always having to be alert for danger, it was something the poor thing was used too. Yet as John kept walking, not once did he turn again and strike at Dwight

“…Thank you.” Dwight manages to say as John turns back to look at him. “…you…you understand if I rather go back to my shop alone now, right?” The fledging witch hesitated as he backed away. “I’m just….I’m just afraid…but,” Dwight reached into his satchel and pulled out a flower. It was a pretty yellow color, resembling that of a dandelion. “Eat this will you? It’s not as potent as a potion, but this a flower I grow in my shop and it should get you feeling better for the night. You still might wanna see a doctor the next morning, just in case.”

After giving John the magical plant, Dwight backed away again, looking rather disappointed, perhaps at his father, perhaps at himself. “Thank you again.” Dwight says as he turns away and leaves, walking a different direction to his shop, leaving John alone in the street.

[laughing-hellblazer]

It was as if her gigantic voice was coming from inside and all around him whenever she spoke -- like a purr rumbling through his chest. The surroundings began to give way, melting into a velvety nothingness. And then he was floating there, surrounded by a consistent water-like pressure. An ribbon of shimmer danced about him, and his eyes began to have trouble following it entirely.

The unease of knowing something was present but unseen filled his gut as he heard her words again. Then he was enveloped, wrapped on all sides by her massive form. Scales and fins and frills all surrounded him in a blur of motion which threatened to close in on him. His heart was racing, fighting against the current, trying desperately to hold on to the memory and lucidity of his dream, but it was losing that battle to the melody of her laughter and the flow of the fabric around him.

Warmth against his skin began to distract him from the disorientation. The sound of his own breaths began to rouse him from his slumber. As soon as his mind realized it, his body reacted. He leapt upright in bed, sheets thrown up into the air by his sudden movement. They settled back over him, crooked and leaving one leg exposed to the chilly morning air, and he stayed there in stunned silence for a few moments.

His logical mind tried to kick in, telling him it was just a strange dream. Lay off the drink so late at night, John. You'll be drunk, even in your dreams. But then he felt something in his hand. Eyes, nervous and reluctant, looked down to confirm what is returning consciousness already knew. A folded Echo and the Bunnymen t-shirt. "Well fuck me..." he said in quiet astonishment.

He reached over and lifted the cloth open, revealing a glimmering scale, now a fraction smaller than it had been in his dream, but still the size of the biggest shark tooth he'd ever seen. It was wrapped with a twisted silver wire and mounted to a leather cord necklace. He lifted it up to look at in the light, and was mesmerized by the shifting colors. He'd never seen anything like it. It almost looked like it didn't belong here in front of his fully conscious eyes.

And then it struck him that he'd never bothered to ask her for her name. "Shit." Not that she would have simply handed it to him, but it could have saved him a trip to Jason Blood's library. He hated dealing with that stuck up bastard.

[ᴇ ɴ ᴅ.]

Lhi's eyes narrowed keenly. There, she knew he'd like him. And the fact that he treated her scale like it was priceless porcelain despite the fact that it could stop both blade and bullet didn't escape her eye. Oh, there was so much to see in how a man acted!

She curled her long tail around herself, the tip of it flicking close to John as she cocked her head and chittered out a laugh, clicking and rumbling all at once. "So soon? No other questions? Hehehe, I like you. Straight to the point! I have such confidence in you, he called to the right Dreamer! Ahh, such a clever one he is!" She shook her head fondly, and suddenly the world around them began to fade. The scene, the faces, the arm laid bleeding through the fabric, it all started to wash away like cheap ink in the rain, streaking into muddy darkness.

It was like being at the bottom of the sea, surrounded by glittering bio-luminescence from unseen creatures, and a strange alien iridescence streaking through the water in ribbon-like currents.

"Very well! Off to the Waking with you. The sun rises, and the light pours across your eyes as we speak!" she said in a singsongy tone as she stood again, her massive form prancing and dancing with all the giddy abandon of a deer in playful circles almost weightlessly through the water around them, leaving no space in John's vision without a flicker of her. "Rise and shine, Dreamer, and up on your feet! Leave your nightmares for another sleep!"

And suddenly, all of her pale scales seemed to envelop his vision, obscuring the darkness, obscuring the waters in bright white that slowly began to look like billowing fabric caught up in the flow.

And then it slowed, stiffened, stopped dancing in the water.

And then it started to look and awful lot like the wrinkled edge of his bed sheets.

[laughing-hellblazer]

Okay, now he definitely had to make sure this crazy berk made it. He was funny, he'd give him that, and he had experience with true acts of the occult. A rare find, indeed.

As he heard the question half stated, he glanced in the direction of the monstrous creature that was once a human body, and swallowed back the disgust behind another stream of smoke exhaled through his nose. He watched as the cross was raised into the direction of the being, and it reacted with spasms of repulsion and pain. True Faith. He had to take a pause to witness it, somewhat surprised. Even rarer.

Right, back to the binding circle. He drew the last symbols and joined the outer circle. The last touch was always the painful part. He tossed the chalk aside and pulled a box cutter from his other pocket. He drove the blade into his own palm, drawing enough blood to form a fresh smear within the circle. "Alright, Xelacis! Stay put!" He kept his bleeding hand in the center of the circle as he commanded.

Between its spasms, the demon spoke again. "John Constantine..." it spewed with a familiar malice. "You will be next." It began to retreat into the shadows, trying to escape the priest and come back at a new angle, but found itself bound to the ground. "No!!" it cursed in knowing frustration.

"Let him have it, Father! I'll take care of the rest!" With enough exposure to the cross, the mortal vessel would surely break down. Then the demon would be forced into the open, right where he needed it.

"I'm hunting it, it's hunting me... Kind of a mutual arrangement we have." The humour was helping distract him from the pain, at least. He shakily found his feet, carefully easing away from the stranger with a slight wave of his hand. "I know what I'm doing... This isn't my first time. Although, these guys-..." He gestured towards what remained of those who had attempted the summoning. "... They keep shifting to new patrons to replace their last one. Makes it hard to keep up with them."

John glanced aside as the other man moved, frowning as he began drawing on the walls. "What are you-..." Before he could inquire further, his attention was grabbed by the sound of the approaching beast. "Oh, there you are..." He hissed through clenched teeth. "Looks like you've been busy." He barely flinched at the mockery of humanity that appeared from the darkness. By now, he was used to it and had faced worse. Widening his stance a little, he braced himself for its approach.

"You really should learn to give up." He growled, raising his cross towards it.

[laughing-hellblazer]

He was trying his best to pay attention past the blistering pain ebbing from his abdomen, and just enough got through that he felt the growing wave of confusion coming over him. He barely had the strength to react when the king of hell tapped him... on the nose? He pulled his head back into his neck with squinted eyes, muttering out, "The fuck..?" as the contact was made. He was threatening, but in a very different way than the First. Even further proof that he was indeed dealing with a different entity.

It wasn't anything he hadn't heard before. He was a rake at the gates of hell, as the Lord of the Dance had once told him. Someone who knew he was damned, and kept digging himself deeper with every long con and every trick. Sometimes it was in an effort to do good, but more often than he'd like to admit, it was to serve his own ends. He'd even brought an angel to fall because he was bitter over his refusal. He'd taunted devils and risked the balance of the world itself, all to save his own skin.

He knew what was coming to him, and he knew he'd fight again and again to keep kicking it down the road.

The claw dragged down his skin, leaving a trail of tingling sensation along his neck and chest. John squirmed under the touch, feeling a mixture of enticement and repulsion. Then, without enough time to even know it would happen, that hand dug into his flesh like it was putty. He tensed and let out a scream, gripping the edge of the bathtub for dear life. Hot as hellfire, it seared his muscle and fat, filling the room with the awful stench of burning infected meat.

He was paralyzed with agony. There simply wasn't enough strength left in him to fight it or get away, as much as the primal instincts in his mind screamed to. Satan had his way, pushing and pulling at his flesh as though he were fishing for something in his bag. Yanked from his body was a small, disgusting little balloon of an appendix. As soon as it was out, John fell limp against the tub, panting and gasping. Dark brown and fetid, it looked like it had been rotting inside of him for a while.

More pressing though, was the huge gaping hole in his gut, quickly draining life in the form of bright red blood. Through a miracle performed before his fluttering eyes, the useless organ was returned to a healthy form and placed back inside of him. The wound sealed shut, and a cooling sensation of healing saturated his body. It cleared away the pain, the disorientation, the fever, and even the booze left in his system.

He lay there for a while, catching his ragged breath and swiping blonde hair from his face. "What have you done to me...? Why did you...?" he tried to ask, though his voice came out as more of a rough whisper than a demand for answers.

"𝔸𝔩𝔩 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔞𝔩𝔰 𝔣𝔞𝔰𝔠𝔦𝔫𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔪𝔢, 𝔍𝔬𝔥𝔫𝔫𝔶 𝔅𝔬𝔶~. 𝔚𝔥𝔞𝔱? 𝔇𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝕜 𝔶𝔬𝔲'𝔯𝔢 𝔰𝔭𝔢𝔠𝔦𝔞𝔩?"

"𝔚𝔢𝔩𝔩, 𝔰𝔲𝔯𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔢! 𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢!"

He leans forward, a hand extending, index finger curling out to press the tip of his obsidian claw upon the end of his nose.

"𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔰𝔬𝔲𝔩 ℑ 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔡𝔯𝔞𝔤 𝔡𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔱𝔬 ℌ𝔢𝔩𝔩 𝔪𝔶𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣!"

Lips pucker, his head shaking slowly.

"𝔗𝔰𝕜, 𝔱𝔰𝕜, 𝔱𝔰𝕜! 𝔉𝔬𝔯 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔤𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔶𝔬𝔲'𝔳𝔢 𝔡𝔬𝔫𝔢, 𝔏𝔞𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔐𝔞𝔤𝔦𝔠𝔦𝔞𝔫. 𝔜𝔬𝔲'𝔳𝔢 𝔞𝔩𝔰𝔬 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔞 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝕪, 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝕪 𝔫𝔞𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱𝕪 𝔟𝔬𝔶. 𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔤𝔲𝔦𝔩𝔱𝕪 𝔬𝔣 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥, ℭ𝔬𝔫𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔢, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔭𝔢𝔫𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔯𝔢𝔮𝔲𝔦𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔶𝔬𝔲. 𝔸 𝔭𝔢𝔫𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝕪𝔬𝔲 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔡."

The tip of the claw drags down his lips, drags down his neck, grazing gingerly past John's chest until stopping over the lower left-hand side of his belly. Without warning, Satan's hand forced itself into his waist; the smell of cooked flesh permeated the restroom in a blistering fog emerging from the burning meat around Satan's hand, each digit moving as claws dug and burned at his innards. Satan twisted his wrist violently clockwise, then pulled out swiftly. Gripped tightly in curled fingers, stained with John's boiling red blood, was his appendix. The small organ looked swollen, enlarged, and gnarled, even more so at the tip.

"𝔐𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔣𝔦𝔣𝔱𝕪 𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔠𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔭𝔢𝔬𝔭𝔩𝔢 𝔦𝔫𝔣𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔡𝔦𝔢 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔦𝔠𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔰."

He placed the organ in the palm of his hand, a bright light glowing between the cracks in Satan's fingers as he closed them into a fixed fist, thin stray beams of golden light flickering before dying as quickly as they came. Satan then shoved his hand back into the gaping, blistering hole in his belly, and the pain returned even greater.

"𝔚𝔢𝔩𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔣𝔦𝔣𝔱𝕪 𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔠𝔢𝔫𝔱."

John would not suffer longer, for Satan's hand slowly drew out, skin and fabric restored itself as if never breached in the first place. Relief flowed like water about him, not just from Satan's excruciating stunt but all throughout. His sickness faded, his strength gradually returning, and--to Constantine's horror--he was sobber.

"��𝔬𝔬𝔬𝔬, 𝔴𝔞𝔫𝔱 ℭ𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔢?"

[laughing-hellblazer]

That was that, wasn't it? He heard the voice fading away, leaving him alone in the path of Jallakuntilliokan's reality warping destruction. "What was the pagan hippie shag for, then?!" he hissed out through grit teeth as he braced himself for the demise surely coming his way. "Fuck off back to your girlfriend in Scotland, you sodding lizard!" Then, just as the dragon drew near to his flesh, teeth primed to rip and maim, it dissolved into shadows and mist, consuming his sight and sensation in a douse of ice cold wetness.

He was on the floor with a rough thud, soaking with sweat, tears, and drool. It took a good few moments for reality to right itself. Longer than usual, and it left him feeling closer to the days back at Ravenscar than he would have liked. He stayed there, on the ground, for an extra pause, gasping deeply for air while staring up at the ceiling. Blindly, his hand reached for the pack of Silk Cuts on his end table.

With shaking hands, he lit up while pushing himself into a sit, his back against the edge of the bed. Gravity dragged trails of liquid down his skin as he struggled with his lighter. A drag of sanity-saving smoke filled his lungs. "Strewth!" he uttered though a ragged sigh. Fear still clung to him, wrenching at his insides with icy-hot metal.

It took about five ciggies to stop the trembling. Two more for the thoughts to clear. Past the fog of fear and anguish, he remembered that face. Magic-touched, for certain, as his words managed to survive the subconscious system wipe of waking. The instructions was simple. Vague enough to drive him mad, like all dream-messages were.

Go to Gotham. Find him. Stop Nightmare.

He knew these kinds of dreams, and they'd never stop unless he followed them to the source. He'd be heading to Heathrow sooner than later. He crushed out the eighth cigarette on a half-empty can of beer, reaching for the ninth, but instead felt only empty pack lining.

"What a bloody mess..." The walk to the offie would set him planning, at least.

[ ᴇ ɴ ᴅ.]

Oh no. Oh no.

What had started as a trickle of fearstuff, delicately tempting him to consume, had become more like a tsunami of overwhelming temptation. He was bathed in it, every pore accepting the feast so very willingly. It was overwhelming, the rush of electrifying power and energy all flowing through him at concentrated point. He trembled in its wake while doing his best to keep his focus on the man at hand.

But with great fear came even fewer moments than he was hoping for. His communication would surely end soon with the nightmare's veil slowly lifting. He could feel it coming on through John, the cool of a waking sweat and the nausea of dizzying realization. There were seconds of dreamtime, at most.

The room began to crumble below them, parting the two of them by feet within moments. He extended his hand out in desperation, fingers outstretched for John's bound head. "You must go to Gotham!" The ground below him gave way, and he began to fall into the fathomless void below.

Desperate, he shouted out, unsure if the words would carry along the waves of the unconscious or not. "Find me! Stop them from summoning Nightmare!"

[laughing-hellblazer]

Just in time to watch me die, he thought. He felt the cool hand of death tugging at his lucidity as he saw the silhouette drop down to their knees in front of him. A slow blink nearly held his eyes shut, but he battled them back open again to stare down at the blood on his shirt in mild astonishment. There sure was a lot there, now.

He heard what sounded like a woman's voice, soft and foreign to the typical Jersey accent of Gotham City. He must have been trying to push himself upright again, given he was told not to move. At the command, he gave in, flopping back uselessly against the brick wall behind him with a tired sigh. Then came the outside pressure of two thin sets of fingers against his abdomen, and with it the pain of a disturbed and angry wound.

He winced, back arching instinctively against the sensation, but he didn't fight. He was still aware enough to know that pain was a good thing to feel, as opposed to nothing at all.

"I've got you, you're going to be okay."

Bold words, considering he must have been wearing about a third of his claret on the outside at this point. "Another...coat in the bin..." he joked, cracking a short-lived smirk that molded into a wince. "I go through them...like newspapers."

His eyes wandered upward, following long waves of golden blond to an angular face with bright eyes. The blur of blood loss clouded his vision, and for a second she looked almost like, "... Cheryl...?"

Logic sluggishly crawled back into his brain, and he cleared his throat with a wince. "No... Not her... Someone else... Who're...?" It'd only be polite to know the name of the woman trying to keep his innards on the inside of him.

The transition to living in the city had been a hard one.

was one thing to be dead as long as she had been. The world had changed a rather significant amount since her passing, and she had returned to things unfamiliar and strange. But to move to this place, to live among so many people, that had been a far greater strain. For her family, though, she would make that choice. But there was a level of danger to the city that the countryside of Wallachia lacked. Around any corner there could be some downtrodden man driven to desperate means to get by. Not that she couldn't defend herself- of course she could. But noone liked being on the receiving end of a firearm, or a blade, or a crowbar for that matter.

She moved through the city with some ease, and caution in equal measures. Down Sale and 82nd, past the bodega, left turn after the pub. It was getting easier to navigate her way home. Memorizing landmarks came naturally to her- a quick learner, her husband had said.

Quick at a lot of things.

Just as she was heading southbound, a familiar scent caught her nose. In a city like this, that smell lingered on every corner, but there was a difference between the phantom and the fresh.

She was a physician; she knew that smell.

"Oh, fuck.."

Blood.

A lot of blood.

An alleyway just across the street seemed to hide messy flaxen hair, a man struggling to keep himself together- oh, the light hit just enough for her to see just how bad it was getting. A wound that deep- no, there was still time.

Her shoes clatted on the cement as Lisa rushed, ignoring the honking cars to make her way. Her kneed hit blood-soaked dirt and concrete, staining her dress and smearing onto her stockings.

"Try not to move too much. I've got you, you're going to be okay." Soft alto, the slightest eastern European accent. Her hands gently, quickly, move to cradle the wound and apply pressure.