#Constantine chosed the wrong book

[nelkcats]

Do you believe in fairies?

No one could deny that all the Robins had a unique and lively spirit, they began their career with stars in their eyes and feet in the air. Or at least most of them, Damian was still a work in progress.

Due to how the League of Assassins had raised him, it was a bit difficult to communicate with him. And most of the experiences or dreams that kids his age had were just not available. Dick had done everything to show him the "magic" but nothing was working. Not even his weekly Disney movie marathon.

That's why Dick decided to be a little more...literal about it. He asked Constantine and Zatanna for help in contacting a fairy (Zatanna looked at him as if he was crazy), this was because the last movie Damian had shown interest in was "Peter Pan". Or at least it was until Tinkerbell showed up and Damian declared that "he didn't believe in fairies."

Unfortunately for Constantine, he owed the former Robin a favor, so he tried to summon a Fairy. Of course, since the universe is engaged in making his life miserable, something went wrong. And instead of a Fairy, a ghost was looking around in confusion.

Danny didn't know where he got to, or why the boy in front of him asked him if he was "a fairy", but he decided to play along and quickly form crystal wings out of his ice. The halfa was quite amused by the situation, while Constantine looked doubtfully at the supposed "fairy" who didn't look like a fairy at all.

Danny smiled happily as he sat in the circle, he could leave at any time (and he hated being summoned) but the situation seemed extremely interesting.

[sunnyscript]

rambling in tags

Sidenote: if this seems batfam heavy it's cuz these characters have been the cause of a lot of fandom wank and I have a grudge

[abujenna]

İstanbul (was قسطنطينيه)

İstanbul is quite probably number one on my bucket list of places to visit. At first glance it doesn't seem like it should be--the Holy Land would make more sense for several reasons. I don't fully understand it myself, but I can take a stab at a logical explanation; it's probably not exactly what you might think.

Let me first address the sticky question of nomenclature. The City we're talking about here has enough names to warrant a Wikipedia entry, and people can get fairly opinionated about which one is "right." As an Orthodox Christian, you might think I'd opt for Constantinople; but before that I was a philologist, and old habits die hard. İstanbul comes from a Greek phrase that meant "to the city"; it predates the Ottoman conquest and reflects a widespread reputation that transcended any need for specificity. Both names were used, along with a host of others, before, during, and after the empire founded by Fatih Mehmed. As far as I'm concerned, one works just as well as the other; the reason behind the modern preference really is "nobody's business but the Turks."

Anyway, to the point at hand: İstanbul lives first in my heart as a literary destination. I probably didn't realize this before reading the stand-alone historical novel entitled simply Byzantium, by Stephen R. Lawhead. I'm sure I read it in 1996, the year it was published, which was also the year I got married. Lawhead was my favorite living author at the time, and I read everything he wrote, almost as soon as it came out. Interesting story about that book--eventually I donated it my church library, and then bought it back at a sale years later so I could read it one more time. (It was OK, but not as good as I remember thinking the first time around.)

It would take me somewhat longer to realize that İstanbul was the inspiration for Tashbaan in the Chronicles of Narnia and probably for Minas Tirith in the Lord of the Rings, both of which I read repeatedly while growing up. It's also an important setting for the Historian, by Elizabeth Kostova, which I still maintain is the most perfect novel ever written for the average American Orthodox convert. (Not to mention, a great starting point for planning a European road or rail trip.) Add Umberto Eco's Baudolino, Rose Macaulay's the Towers of Trebizond, and Nektaria Anastasiadou's a Recipe for Daphne, and you start to get the idea--whether in its medieval, mythical, or modern form, some of my favorite stories would be almost pointless without the City.

And is it any wonder? İstanbul stands at the gateway between Europe and Asia. It was the western hub of the famed Silk Road trade routes. Largely because of this strategic location, Constantine chose Byzantium as his new capital, after which it served for almost 1600 years as the seat of one empire or another. It didn't just inspire stories; it inspired kingdoms. Attackers didn't seek to destroy it but to become it. At its lowest ebb, when the once-mighty Roman empire had dwindled to a beleaguered city, it was finally conquered by the ambitious Ottoman Mehmed II. But instead of falling into oblivion, it defined his new empire as a Third Rome, spreading its wings once more across two continents. This is the city that needs no name.

Now don't get me wrong--I'm not pining for dead empires or seeking to resurrect them. I know all too well the congenital defects of Eastern Orthodoxy that stem from its dependence on the Christianized state--from its subservience to tyrants, to its stunted sense of mission, to its paralysis in the face of modern challenges. I know also the pain we've suffered under both hyper-religious and secular nationalist regimes. But I appreciate how much we can learn from history, both the good and the bad. And I'd rather experience history in the places where it happened than tucked away in a museum somewhere (usually by a foreign power that feels entitled to claim someone else's artifacts).

And that brings me to another complicated reason that I want to visit İstanbul--religion. Of course, it was the seat of Christian Empire for many centuries, which irrevocably shaped the Eastern Orthodox Church into what it is. But more recently it played host to the last great Islamic Caliphate under Ottoman rule, and the city bears marks of both to this day. Its grand historic churches survived as converted mosques; in the 20th century, some were set aside as museums, but the present government has turned them back over for religious use. In most cases you can still see the old Byzantine iconography preserved in one form or another, but it is painful for many Christians that you have to plan your visit around the schedule and sensibilities of worshiping Muslims.

Personally, I have somewhat mixed feelings about the situation. It would be nice to see the Ayasofya unobstructed, as it was in its days as a museum; but then it was a museum, which I don't find a particular improvement. Justinian built it as a house of worship--for many centuries, the most impressive church on the planet--and if Christians couldn't keep it, I would rather see it preserved as sacred space than crumbling into ruin or locked away under glass. It simply is not going to be a church again; even if it were by some miracle handed over to the Orthodox Christian community, it would be an absurd facility to maintain for such a tiny population, and it would bankrupt them to do so. For better or worse (and at least partly due to our own poorly conceived plans), the great churches of Constantinople past now belong to the predominantly Muslim Turks. Their fate is in their hands, and I am glad at least that it fell to a religious people, who usually found more value in them than as storage containment or to be demolished in favor of modern development.

Whatever else an edifice like Ayasofya may be, it is a symbol--of many things, perhaps, but at least that a nation is consecrated to God. It would be incongruous if such a prominent symbol did not align with the spiritual orientation of the people. I may disagree with some of the content of their faith, but I cannot altogether discount the devotion that has preserved this space and filled it with prayer over the centuries. So I hope to visit the historic imperial churches, but also to honor the mosques they have become, in which form they have continued to live, rather than die in the dust of ages past.

And what of the people? I hope it is clear by now that I want to touch the relics of history and faith, but specifically in their current, living context. More than that, I also want to encounter the culture and people that exist there today, however much may have changed since the height of the Christian Roman Empire. I hope to catch a glimpse of the Rum Ortodoks community that persists to this day, though I don't know how easy it will be to do that. I've mapped out some of the locations mentioned in a Recipe for Daphne, and I plan to attend services in at least one of the functioning churches of the modern district of Beyoğlu/Pera. I'm learning Turkish and some Modern Greek, so I can interact as much as possible with the locals throughout our visit. This will be my first foray beyond the bounds of strictly European culture, and I want to observe, and listen, and learn.

Of course, it's hard to avoid bringing my own political ideas with me. As an Orthodox Christian, it's natural for me to sympathize with the Christian community and their struggle for survival. But I also want to understand the Turks as a people through more than just the lens of nationalism and ethnic cleansing. As an American I have no moral authority to judge others exclusively in terms of their bigotry or oppression. I want to believe that we can all change for the better, that we are not forever defined by the worst impulses of our society. I hope we can find a better way, but I don't have any good solutions to offer. Maybe by traveling with an open heart and encountering others honestly, I can become better than I am; maybe that's all any of us can do.

Reading back over this post, I can see an inescapable tension. I vacillate between thinking of myself as connected to and as separate from this heritage. As a formerly WASP American convert, it's inevitable. You can't really be Orthodox without being Eastern, but neither can you simply absorb wholesale a different cultural identity. The best I can manage is to live with the tension of not fully belonging anywhere. And I realize this makes my viewpoint suspect to pretty much everyone concerned. All I can offer is respect for experiences and perspectives that are not mine.

[lordgrimoire]

@stealingyourbones​ [Presents some fingerbones]

The Demon’s Head had been sitting in wait, preparing, arming himself, gathering occulted artifacts. He had been preparing for the next time that Damn Ghost used his beloved Lazarus Pit as a damn Teleporter and now he had a chance, only one problem, he chose the EXACT WRONG TIME to fight the being known as “Phantom” as he was apparently late for something.

What had this resulted in? Well Ra’s was paralyzed, there was nothing wrong with his body, he was whole and hearty, but something from the Pit had reached out after Phantom had evaded his attacks and he now had an issue, he couldn’t feel anything his arms and legs were stiff, unfeeling things, he could barely feel his chest rise and fall, the only thing he could feel was his heart as it beat behind his ribs. So he had become desperate, and now he was at the Mercy of The Batman, and his Cursed Justice League.

“Alright, you said the being identified themselves as Phantom, who you described as having white hair, green eyes, and wearing a black and white HAZMAT suit, yes?” Ra’s sneered at Constantine, the man reeked, especially to him with all of his cursed deals. 

“Yes.” Constantine hummed as he paged through a book, it seemed rather new, fresh ink and good bindings, before freezing on a page.

“Alright, I have an answer to your question as to who Phantom is, He’s the current High King of the Infinite Realms, think of it as the collective Afterlives of every living species and their peoples. He could have just killed you for abusing the Lazarus Pit, but seems he was merciful.” Ra’s now was quite Thankful he had not threatened the family that Phantom had been going off to, as that was the Royal Family of the Afterlife. Damn

“I would like to fully surrender the Lazarus Pit to the Justice League.” Several Assassins started at that but his glare silenced them. “I have obviously miscalculated, and should I use it again it is more than likely something that I will be unable to fight will be waiting for me. As such I shall surrender the Pit, let the High King be your problem.”

Constantine smiled at him, and now Ra’s felt as though someone had stepped onto his grave. “Thank you Demon’s Head, I believe I know what we’ll be doing with the place. Would you like an escort off of the property?” Ra’s knew a defeat when he saw one, and instead refused, leaving the impish Occultist to his new research. 

Maybe he would make a misstep worse than Ra’s had. He hoped so.

Short DP X DC Prompts #47

Danny uses the Lazarus Pits as fast travel. This angers Ra’s Al Ghul to no end

[ogravensimp]

She is a Constantine

The one day this shitty hotel decided to have an out of order elevator', Zed cursed as she looked up to only see a beige trenchcoat coat fluttering like a flag as it raced up the far too many flights this overpriced building had installed.

"John! Aren't you just being paranoid?" Zed shouted after the man in front of her as she attempted to keep up with him, as well, also trying to get answers out of him—which is a hard enough task as it is when she actually has his attention.

They were supposed to focus on purging some low-level demons set loose when a couple of civilians somehow managed to dig up the original copy of the highly dangerous, "Grimorium Verum". Well, they managed to get the book, but they also attracted the attention of John's good ol' friend, Papa Midnite; who has been giving them quite a hard time but John managed to knock him out.

Zed believed that they did quite well against him but somehow he said something before he fell that set John running without a word back to the hotel room they rented.

"John!", she called out once again as they finally reached the floor they were staying on, but she only saw the tail of his trenchcoat as he took a sharp turn around the corner, "seriously, you are being very-"

She cut herself off when she also reached the room they were staying in, only to find the door thrown off the hinges,"-...paranoid."

John was already inside, his back to her as he worryingly looked around at the ransacked room that had been perfectly fine when they left. Zed knew it wasn't the mess that had him anxious, it was the lack of a certain half-demon whom they had left watching some pony cartoon on the now overturned couch. The show was even still playing, but not even a tuft of the girl's purplish hair to be found.

"I should have known he'd just trace the magic back here, how could I just live her alone with the one thing Papa Midnite will kill for!" While it seemed John was talking to her, Zed knew he was actually berating himself, "Fuck, if he touched even a hair on her head I swear-"

"John," Zed softly approached him, wanting to calm the magician before he jumps so far to a conclusion that she or common sense won't be able to reach him anymore, "Papa hates your guts, yes but you and I know he'll never kill a child."

"What about his goons? Midnite distracted us and sent them here and I'm sure his goons would do anything not to fail him. ", John retorted as he began to scratch his hair with enough force it's as if he actually wanted to rip it out.

"She might still be here."

John finally turned to face her and Zed could now fully see the panic on his face. To a normal person, John looked irritated at most but Zed has been around him long enough to start to see the cracks in his poker face of sarcasm, "Look around Zed! If she was here, I'd fucking sense her!"

Zed felt a bit offended at his outburst, she didn't even know John had left the grimoire here! She thought the whole reason Papa was hexing them to next week was to get it off John but this seemed to be another of Constantine's genius plans gone wrong.

Putting her hands on her hips, she stood her ground, "And who's fault is that John? How could you just leave one of the most sacred dark-magic books with a child who thinks a show on the magic of friendship is the pique of entertainment?!"

John was never one to admit he was too blame chose to fight back, "I didn't know! I'm not fucking omnipresent! That's why I put up the bloody wards!"

"And look what good those did," Zed huffed as she folded her hands, "now they have the grimoire and have done god knows what with Raven."

"um..."

"Think I don't know that Zed because newsflash, I do!"

"Well, how do you plan to fix it!"

"...actually..."

John moved towards what was left of his books on the table and picked up a piece of chalk, "I don't know, fuck, I can try to trace her magic. She has a naturally high amount of it, it'll be easy to find."

Zed followed after him, her anger now replaced with worry, "Maybe if I'm near something of her's I can get a vision, where's that teddy of her's that she's always with? The one that Nun made?"

A small pair of hands held out the purple bear in question, "here you go Zed."

Zed accepted it gratefully, "Thank you, Raven."

And then there was silence in the room.

Zed looked at the doll in her hand and then at the small face looking up at her and then back at the doll, then back at the face and this charade continued for a while till she shouted, "Raven!", causing the little girl in question to giggle.

This sound alerted John who looked up from the symbols he had already begun drawing on the floor. Before Zed could even move, John had rushed past her in a beige coloured blur and had the half-demon up in his arms in a well-deserved hugged.

"Oh my sweet blackbird, I'm so glad your ok,", John yelled while he spun Raven around and pressed warm kisses to her small cheek causing more giggles to escape Raven's throat.

This was an odd scene for Zed who was quite used to the silent little girl who hexes old ladies that try to pinch her cheek or pat her head.

In fact, the first time Raven allowed physical contact with Zed was when she held her hand in a crowded street one time, and while Zed knew it was only so the tiny demon wouldn't get lost in the much taller crowd, she still felt like some chosen saviour.

So Zed just really couldn't help the tinge of jealousy she felt knowing that John is an exception to this 'no-touch' rule whenever he pleases while she can only relish in the crumbs.

Raven must have sensed her feelings cause she turned to her and smiled— an expression Zed felt fit her angelic features more than the usual deadpan expression.

Giving a soft smile back herself, she placed a hand on the girl's soft face(which fortunately went unhexed), in a tender gesture and asked, "Rae you gave us a heart attack, where were you?"

The dark-haired girl just tilted her in confusion before replying with a simple, "the closet." and pointed in the direction of said object.

Both Zed and John looked at the small cabinet that she was implying and couldn't help but be entertained as it was such a childish yet genius choice of hiding.

But the entertainment didn't last long as they realized something would have had to cause her to go into hiding.

Setting her down on the table, John and Zed immediately began to check her pallid skin for any injuries and to their relief, there was nothing major. The only damage to her delicate skin was a bruise on her knee but that was enough for John to demand a full breakdown of what exactly happened so he can know how many bones of Midnite he needs to break.

After 10 minutes, Zed and John had the full story of what happened while Raven nibbled on a chocolate bar she rightfully earned.

"So let me get this straight, you sensed about four guys approaching here and before they arrive, you grabbed Mr Teddy here, ran into the cabinet and stayed there till you heard us arguing, and you only bruised your knee cause you bumped yourself when crawling in?" John confirmed.

"Yep."

"You should've grabbed a phone and called us or something,", Zed muttered as she rubbed a chocolate stain off the girl's chubby cheek, "what if they saw you? Next time teleport to me and John immediately, got it."

Looking down, Raven softly replied, "Yes Zed."

"Oi, lay off her," John joked as he placed a big hand on her head, lightly messing up her dark-purple locks much to Zed's annoyance cause she is the one that combs her hair out every morning but before she can complain, John sighs, "Shit, Midnite still has the Grimoire, just great."

Zed was going to sigh with him when Raven let out a sheepish, "well...", reaching for the toy that Zed had been holding onto, she wrapped her hands around it and after some muttering, a ray of purple surrounded its form and it transformed into the exact tome that John and Zed had worked so hard to find and keep safe, "...I had been practising glamour spells before the guys arrived and thought this would be a great time to test it and I guess it worked."

Her wide violet eyes looked up at them as if looking for praise and they really did want to give it to her but they were just so shocked by her to speak.

John was the first to react and a wide grin broke out on his face, "You are a Constantine!"

He relaunched his attack of hugs and kisses to Raven's temple, this time Raven acted annoyed and tried to push him away but her blooming blush and the sound of a few lamps exploding betrayed her and showed her real emotions.

Zed still only looked at the book in her hand, remembering how it had felt and weighed the exact same you'd expect a knit teddy bear too. She just couldn't wrap her head around how such a young girl was already so talented with magic that it would put some adults to shame but before she could stay on the topic the sounds of Raven's voice brought her back.

"Ew, let go of me!" She whined as she used her small hand to try and push John's face away but that would not deter him and instead, he laid a lick to her palm which only infuriated her more as the window near them cracked, "GROSS!"

Zed couldn't help the laugh that escaped her. Those two were really something. Dropping the book on the table, she went to go save her little Raven away by pulling her away before she ends up blasting John through a room— so maybe she's actually saving John.

As for her previous question, the answer was simple:

She's a Constantine.

____________________________________

"Now, what's the meaning of this?" Papa Midnite's voice was deep and loud to achieve its purpose in causing shivers to run down his lackey's spine as he held up a purple, knitted bear with different sized buttons for eyes.

One of them managed to gain some confidence and he dropped to the floor at Midnite's feet to plead for himself and his brethren, "Papa, I swear, it was definitely the book you asked for, we don't know what happened!"

Papa growled, "I know that, I'm wondering how all you managed to get tricked. Not even by Constantine himself but by a child!"

"But there was no kid there we checked everywhere, honest Papa!"

Midnite just sighed as he fell back onto his seta, rubbing the bridge between his nose as he contemplated whether to get better men or if he simply was the only one capable of doing things right around here.

As he grumbled, the purple toy in his hands caught his eyes.

He thought it was just the supernatural world being bored when he heard that the John Constantine adopted a little girl but this doll proved the rumours through.

If this child was also as terrifying as the rumours say, it was best Papa met her soon before another card to Constatine's deck is added in which he cannot compete with.

part 2 soon? probably but only cause I wanna right midnite & raven interaction

[queen-scribbles]

"No matter what I'll always come after you" for Vesper?

Okay, this, as usual, ran away from me to the tune of 2300 words, but I’m not complaining.  (It does touch on game events, including the end, just so anyone wanting to avoid spoilers is aware)

----

Most children threatened to run away from home at least once. Vesper just hadn’t expected Constantin--of all people--to make good on it. (Though maybe she should’ve.) While her mother and uncle debated where he might have gone and organized searches for the palace and city proper, Vesper snuck out a side door and headed in the opposite direction, toward the meadow where they’d picnicked  few days ago. Constantin had wanted to explore more, but their governess wouldn’t let him. If he was feeling defiant enough to make good on running away, she’d bet he went back there.

And the deep footprints in the riverbank mud bore out her theory. He proved easy to find once she had his trail, headed straight for a patch of woods, though she found him more from the yelp than his trail.

A yelp that presaged his falling from the tree he’d been trying to climb.

“Constantin!” Vesper lunged forward to catch him, but thanks to the limits of ten year old legs, only sort-of managed to break his fall. (Whenever her growth spurt wanted to show up would be fine by her.) “Are you alright?!”

“What’re you doing here?” Constantin demanded instead of answering. He looked alright, if dirty and still petulant.

“Looking for you,” Vesper retorted, nudging him off so they could both sit up. “We were worried-”

“I’m not going back,” he interrupted sulkily, poking the dirt with a stick. “I’m sick of sums. And behaving myself.”

“I can tell,” she teased, brushing dirt off the knee of his breeches.  “But our parents are worried sick, and I feel like the longer it takes to find you, the more trouble you’ll be in.”

Constantin jabbed the stick more viciously into the ground at the base of an ant hill, and was silent a long moment before nodding.  “...Fine.”

Vesper helped him to his feet, brushed more dirt off his clothes. There was nothing that could be done about the scrape on his forearm, or the ripped sleeve that hung around it, however.

They were halfway home before he took her hand and mumbled a slightly grudging, “Thanks for coming after me.”

Vesper smiled. “Always.”

----

Raised voices had become so commonplace in the family portions of the house, Vesper barely batted an eye at the muffled strains of the Prince in contention with someone yet again. She knew who it likely was even before hearing Constantin’s protesting retort. She knew how this would go, too, and finished the current page of her book, setting it aside with a sigh.

As usual, her uncle’s voice rose in both volume and quantity of words until she could almost make out the words of his tirade from three rooms down the hall. As usual, there was a long, rebellious pause, then Constantin’s voice so low she barely picked up the murmur of it, then a slammed door. As usual, Vesper counted to twenty, then went after him. As usual, he was on the balcony that looked toward the harbor, sitting on the ground with his back against the wall.

“Should have known you’d come after me, with a row like that,” Constantin said without looking.

“Always,” Vesper said lightly. “You alright?”

He shrugged, gaze fixed toward the horizon.

She waited him out, knowing the words would come.

“It’s never good enough for him,” Constantin finally spat. “I’m never good enough. Everything I do, Ves. It’s always just a little wrong, or falls just a little short, or a little too embarrassing, or I’m a disgrace to the family name! He’s never happy!”

“He does ask a lot from you,” Vesper agreed softly, because it was true. Knowing her uncle had reasons for his high standards--the family’s position, Constantin being his heir--didn’t negate how impossibly high the bar seemed some days.

Especially with it being set for Constantin. Who liked to flirt with the wrong people and fight with the wrong people and never really could seem to hold his tongue.

But he didn’t need censure or critique now, not from her, he needed a listening ear. So that’s what she did. She listened. She sympathized. And she let him calm down from the heights of ranting before she even suggested heading back inside.

She was stiff from sitting on the ground so long, but seeing him smile again was worth it.

----

The air around the tavern stank of cheap beer and vomit, which was better than most nights. Vesper wrinkled her nose and tried to ignore it. Damn Constantin for choosing this one, though he’d likely done so banking on the knowledge she’d be reluctant to follow him here alone. Unfortunately for him, if that had been his thought process, it hadn’t taken much to convince Kurt to come with her. (It may have involved the words ‘I’m going regardless’ from her, and grousing from Kurt, but she knew, despite his grumbling, he liked her and Constantin more than he’d admit. Hence him following her to four other taverns before this one.)

They’d barely taken two steps inside when the unmistakable sound of Constantin singing reached their ears, and Vesper groaned.

“I won’t tell the prince where we found him if you don’t,” Kurt muttered behind her.

Vesper’s mouth twisted in a wry smile. “Oh, my lips are sealed, it’s his I’m worried about.”

Kurt just grunted in response to that, and the two of them made their way through the crowd until they found her wayward cousin.

“Vesper!” Constantin grinned when he saw her. Not drunk yet, but on the way. “Didn’t think you liked places like this, cousin.” He gestured broadly at the surroundings, sloshing his drink over the table. Well on the way to drunk, then.

She forced a smile. “Oh, but you know I’ll always come after you, dear cousin, no matter what it takes.” Even visiting shady taverns our parents would kill the both of us for patronizing.

He laughed and took a deep drink before slouching back in the chair. “Are y’ here to join me or drag me home?”

“The latter, I’m afraid,” Vesper said lightly. Her uncle was on his way home from some diplomatic summit and would be in a foul temper if his son was missing upon returning. She needed to get Constantin home and sleeping off this afternoon’s escapades. “Though I do hope there will be no actual dragging involved.”

Constantin’s gaze flicked to where Kurt stood behind her, arms crossed, and grinned again. “Backup, Vesper? Worried you can’t corral me on your own anymore?”

His tone was playful, but she knew how swiftly that could change when he was in a mood, and she chose her words accordingly. “Two pairs of eyes are better than one, and it is part of his job to watch out for us. I was worried, cousin. You’ve been gone most of the day.” She left off they’d been looking for him almost half of that time.

“Afraid I got kidnapped or broke my neck?” Constantin teased, taking another drink.

“Among other fates," Vesper said with an easy laugh. Both of those are actual possibilities with you. “You know I have a vivid imagination.”

He laughed as well, loud and tipsy, and leaned forward to clumsily pat her hand. “As you can see, I’m fine, dear cousin.”

“Yes, it does appear you had an enjoyable afternoon,” she agreed, deciding she didn’t want to know the origin of the stains on his shirt and coat. Or where his hat ended up. (If he had even worn one.) “My mother’s fretting herself silly about you, though, Constantin, what say we head home and put her mind at ease?”

He took long enough to answer she was afraid he’d dig in his heels and she’d have to have Kurt yank him out of the chair. But he rolled his eyes and pushed the nearly-empty tankard across the table. “Oh, fine. Wouldn’t do to have my beloved auntie worrying herself sick.”

He stumbled getting to his feet, and Kurt grabbed his arm to keep him upright.

“Thank you,” Constantin slurred, leaning against him heavily. (He’d been closer to drunk than she thought, apparently.)

“Just doin’ my job,” Kurt said with a grunt, accepting the inevitable and tugging Constantin’s arm around his shoulders as they headed for the door. He shot Vesper a look she’d almost call impressed.  “Nice going. You’ve got a way with words.”

Vesper bit back a laugh as she pushed open the door. “Thank you. I have to counter my abysmal showing with a blade somehow.”

Kurt chuckled, and she caught the faint flash of a smile before he bit it back.  “You’re still learning, Green Blood. Give it time.”

“That does help with a lot,” she said, glancing at her thoroughly inebriated cousin. Hopefully time would help smooth away some of his more worrisome habits.

At the very least, though, it would help with his hangover.

----

One thing that came in handy, with how often Vesper found herself in these scenarios, Constantin was loud. He was loud when he was celebrating, loud when he was complaining, and he was loud now.

Vesper could hear him hollering demands and derisions at his captors well before she and Kurt reached the warehouse where he was being held.

“D’you think there’s any chance of this becoming a less frequent occurrence when we reach the island?” she asked as she scanned the building for discreet ways in.

Kurt pressed his lips together--whether biting back a smile at her question or annoyance at her cousin, she couldn’t tell--and shrugged. “Only time will tell, I suppose.”

Vesper bobbed her head to concur with his assessment and resumed searching for a way in. Fortunately, it proved easier than anticipated to sneak inside the building. She’d rather not incite a brawl just before leaving Sérène. It was equally easy to follow Constantin’s yelling to the room serving as his makeshift cell.

“Constantin, shhh!” Vesper hissed against the keyhole.

There was silence, then, slightly quieter and much more effusive, “Ah, cousin, there you are! I knew you’d show!”

“We can’t leave without you, Governor D’Orsay,” Vesper reminded him as she examined the lock. “And you know I’d come after you anyway.”

“Always.” There was a grin in Constantin’s voice. “If you’re looking for the key, I believe one of the rapscallions mentioned a desk?”

That was indeed its hiding place. And she found his effects in the trunk beside it to boot. Her cousin was almost giddy as he burst from the small room the moment the key turned in the lock.

“That’s more like it!” he crowed, clapping her on the back and nodding toward Kurt. “Thank you ever so much for the rescue, dearest cousin and loyal Captain. Now” --he snatched his hat from pile in Vesper’s arms-- “let’s go have an adventure, shall we?”

She schooled away a smile at his enthusiasm and held his coat out of reach. “Constantin? Remember how we discussed Teer Fradee being an opportunity for a fresh start? Please endeavor to keep that in mind.”

“Yes, of course, dear cousin.” He darted forward to grab his coat and she let him have it. He pulled it on and whirled around with a flourish. “We shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

Vesper shook her head and smiled as she tugged him toward the route she and Kurt had used to enter. While somehow Constantin’s enthusiasm managed to make more noise than Kurt’s armor, they did make it back out unchallenged. She grabbed Constantin’s arm to tug him toward where Captain Vasco waited.

Her cousin was right about one thing--they’d delayed long enough.

---

The winged form of the High King came crashing to the ground with her second to last round through his throat. Vesper ignored the still twitching body. Kurt or Sìora could check he was actually dead, she only cared about Constantin.

Her saber clattered against the stony ground as she lunged toward the half-constructed cairn around her cousin and started pulling it apart with her bare hands. Once free enough, Constantin slumped limply against her chest and Vesper held him close.

“...Vesper?” he mumbled, barely audible, through lips chapped and scarred by the malichor and heaven only knew what else.

“I’m here,” she said, voice shaking with relief they gotten here in time. “I come after you no matter what, remember?”

There was no reply, the weight of him heavy against her chest, but she could still feel him breathing.

“Hold on, cousin,” she murmured. He was so quiet, so still. They needed to get him to a healer.

There was a hand on her shoulder and Kurt crouched next to her. “Green Blood.”

Because it was Kurt, Vesper didn’t try to hide the lingering worry in her eyes as she released her hold on Constantin so Kurt could take him for the journey down the mountain.

She tried not to let King Vinbarr’s words echo too loudly in her head as she and Sìora followed, tried not to let the foreboding take root, but the sheer desperation in the man’s voice still left a seed.

“He will be the end of us all!”

---

The trek up through Anemhaid was made all the more difficult by the heartsick dread steadily building in her chest, but Vesper made it. Alone; her companions stayed to help their people, and her heart was stuck at the bottom of the mountain. (Don’t be a hero, she’d said, knowing full well he would anyway because he couldn’t help himself, knowing she’d have to do the same.)

She didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to be doing this.

She finally slowed as she reached the main cavern, saw her cousin’s familiar silhouette.

“Vesper.” Constaintin almost smiled as he turned. “I knew you’d come.”

“Of course I did, cousin.” Vesper swallowed hard, chest tight, and rested one hand on the hilt of her pistol. She hoped against hope she wouldn’t need it, but the dreadful knot in her gut and strange glow in his eyes promised she would.  “No matter what, I always come after you.”

[dcnatural]

Soaking Wet

Word Count: 2189

Pairing: John Constantine x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Synopsis: During a storm in London, you find cover in your ex-boyfriend’s apartment.

There were many things you loved about London, but the weather was definitely not one of them. There had been no sign of rain when you left your hotel room for an evening stroll, the sun shone brightly on the clear sky. Then, almost by magic, the clouds turned gray, the wind began to hurl, and a heavy rain started pouring down.

Puddles of water splashed under your feet as you ran through the streets desperate to find shelter. The icy rain pricked your skin like projectiles, the strong winds blowing it at fast speeds. Strands of wet hair clung together in front of your face, blocking your vision and no matter how many times you tried to tuck them behind your ear, they fell off again.

Being mostly a residential area, there were no stores for you to seek shelter in and the open sidewalks offered no protection. By the time you finally found cover under the awning of a four-storey brick building, even your socks were drenched. Although the draped fabric prevented the water from falling directly above you, it did nothing to shield you from the gusts of wind and the droplets of rain it brought along. 

You hugged your coat tightly around your body in an attempt to keep yourself warm. You hadn’t dressed for the weather, your clothes weren’t thick enough to act as an efficient barrier from the cold. Not even your cardigan seemed to do anything against the rapidly dropping temperature. 

You considered walking into the building instead of simply hiding in front of it. The wooden door, however, was locked and without a key, you found yourself stuck where you were. Your battery had run out and, as such, you couldn’t even call yourself an Uber.

When you first heard his voice calling your name, you assumed that you had simply drifted off and were dreaming - no, if he was in it, then it must be a nightmare. But then he called again, each syllable coated heavily in his british accent, and you are pulled out of your musings.

Water beads clung to your eyelashes blurring your vision and you had to squint to see better, but there was no denying that it was actually him. His dirty blond hair was a disheveled mess on top of his head and his trademark trench coat flowed ever-so-gently behind him. A lit cigarette hung from his lips, which were slightly curled into a smirk. 

“John Constantine,” you replied in a mist of distrust and awe. It had been so long since your mouth had last formed those words that your muscles seemed to fight against it, as if trying to remind you what had happened the last time you did so.

He took a drag of his cigarette and puffed out, encircling the two of you in a grayish smoke and you coughed. “That’s me, luv.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” he stated, grabbing a pair of keys from his pockets and rattling them in front of you, the tiny metal pieces clinking against one another. 

Your mouth opened in a silent “oh”. Of course that, out of all the apartment buildings in London, you would end up stranded underneath his. The wind picked up and a chilling breeze blew across you, causing you to shiver.

“How ‘bout you?” he continued, “Are you stalking me? ‘Cause it would have been easier if you just called.”

You roll your eyes at his insinuation. “Oh please, as if I’d want anything to do with you again. I was just walking and got lost. And then this damned storm started.” As if prompted by your words, a lightning struck the sky, followed closely by the deafening sound of a thunder and you jolted in surprise.

Constantine chuckled and you furrowed your brows. “It’s not funny!” you groaned. “It’s freezing out here and I’m soaking wet!”

He raised an eyebrow but before he could make a sound, you were at it again. “Don’t even start. You know what I meant.”

“I don’t think I do, luv. Why don’t you show me how wet you are?”

You couldn’t believe his audacity. Making jokes and flirting when the last time you spoke to him he had acted like a complete bastard. Not to mention that you were clearly in distress. “Fuck. Off.” you replied harshly, crossing your arms and turning away from him.

“I can’t leave you out here to freeze to death, it would weigh heavy on my conscience.”

“Since when do you have one?” you bickered. 

“Do you wanna come inside or not?" he continued as if he hadn't heard your interruption. "I have some beers in the freezer and we could catch up while waiting for the storm to die out.”

You should’ve said no. But the cold was just too harsh and you could feel your toes going numb. Letting out a small sigh, you nodded. 

"Fine. But that doesn't mean I forgive you or anything like that."

"Noted," he said, his smile widening a bit. You bit your lip to keep yourself from saying something nasty about him. There was a huge list of unflattering adjectives you could call him, all of which would be true.

He unlocked the entrance and you rushed inside, immediately feeling better now that you were out of the wind's reach. John tried to make small talk as the two of you climbed the stairs up to his floor but you ignored his questions, dismissing most of them with a nod or a wave of hand.

His apartment wasn't the mess you expected. The small living room was tidy, there were no dishes on the kitchen sink and the floor wasn't littered with cigarette butts. It even smelled nice: lavender and blueberries, reminiscing of a warm summer day in the countryside.

You removed your muddy shoes and went inside. He turned on the heater and went to get the promised beers from the fridge. You sat on the carpet in front of the radiator and enjoyed the warmth. Constantine handed you an open bottle and you took it, shallowing half of it in one go, not minding the bitter taste. 

Despite the heat, you were still pretty much chilled to the bone, your damp clothes preventing you from fully warming up. You coughed and shifted uncomfortably, hoping he didn’t notice your discomfort. Nor the increasingly damp patch that was forming underneath you in the carpet.

"You should take off your clothes", John suggested casually as he studied you.

You almost choked on your drink. "Excuse me?"

"You are dripping everywhere", he took the now empty bottle from your hand, "and they say that you should never stay in wet clothes when trying to warm up. Do you wanna take a warm shower? I can lend you something to wear."

You squinted. You simply weren’t used to him being this… kind? Prestative? You didn’t even know what to call it. And once more, instead of declining his offer like any sane human being, you said yes.

He led you down the hallway to his bedroom, with its walls covered in posters of classic punk rock bands and sorcery books scattered around the floor, and to the annexed bathroom. 

“I’ll leave a change of clothes on the bed for you,” he said before closing the bathroom door. 

You locked the door, checking twice to ensure it couldn’t be open, and waited until you heard him move to the hallway before undressing. The shower was hot and you welcomed the scalding water, letting it run down your body and wash the cold away. You tried not to think of how his soap smelled like him - citric and earthy; as long as you had known John, he had always used the exact same brand of soap - and how you would smell like him afterwards.

Despite that, you couldn’t deny that it was pleasant to have a shower, and when you were done, you already felt better. Careful to keep your back to the door, just in case his intentions were less chivalrous than he was letting out, you picked the white button-up shirt he had separated for you and got dressed. It was clearly an old, worn-out piece and you could see the markings of cigarette burns and of the places where the fabric had been thorn in combat and had been sewn back together. The garment was too big for your lithe frame, the hem hung just above your knees and the sleeves covered completely your hands, forcing you to roll them up in order to use your hands. He had left a pair of black pants but, given your lack of underwear, you chose not to put them on, the shirt did more than enough to cover your private parts. You pulled your hair in a loose bun to get the wet strands out of your neck and, after a quick glance at the mirror to ensure you were decent, walked back to the living room.

Constantine was slouched on the couch, watching television with a bottle of whiskey in hand. He smiled as you crossed the doorway and his gaze drifted over your body, lingering just a second too long on your cleavage and making you blush. He scooted to the end of the couch and patted the empty space besides him and, seeing no harm in it, you slumped against the cushions.

“Feeling better?”, he asked, passing the bottle to you, which you gladly took.

“I hate to say it, but you were right, everything feels better after a shower.”

On the screen, a man jumped from a helicopter while bombs exploded in the background, and despite not having seen the beginning of the movie, and although you weren’t exactly paying attention, you soon got the hang of the plot. Indeed, John’s presence on your side was quite disconcerting, and throughout the movie, as the bottle emptied out, you found yourself inching closer and closer to him, until your legs were touching.

As the action came to a climax and the hero saved his beloved, you felt Constantine’s hand sliding over your leg, fingers drawing little circles on your skin that sent goosebumps to your core.

“John,” you mumbled, leaning into his touch and sighing as he ventured further upward and his calloused fingers grazed your inner thigh.

“That’s right, luv, say my name,” his words were soft as he whispered them into your ear.

You shook your head. “No, we can’t.” You tried to shove him off, but didn’t put any real strength in it. You knew it was wrong, but his touch was just so good, and it felt so right.

Ignoring your plea, his free hand began to open the buttons of the shirt to expose your breasts. “Can’t or won’t ?”

You lost any ability to form cohesive sentences when his lips closed around your peaked nipple, nibbling at the raised nub. His tongue swirled over your breast and you found yourself gripping tightly at his dirty blond hair to keep him from pulling away.

While he continued to place kisses on your chest, his other hand slipped between your thighs, fingers dangerously close to your already dripping folds. He teased you, scraping his nails where he knew your skin to be the most sensitive until you were squirming under him, basically begging him to give you the relief you craved.

He detached his mouth from your body with an audible pop. “Tell me, still think we can’t?”

You rolled your eyes. “You win. Just-” Your sentence was cut short as he abruptly kissed you and, wrapping an arm around your waist, picked you up from the couch and carried your body to the bedroom.

You giggled as he laid you onto the bed, legs wide open and back propped up against pillows. His eyes were locked with yours as he spread your lower lips apart and dragged his tongue lazily over your entrance. Your hips jerked forward when he made contact with your clit and you moaned as he began to flick his tongue against it. He knew how to get you all worked up, kissing, biting and sucking on the right places to send your mind into heaven. Or perhaps hell.

Praises and profanities rolled out of your tongue as the pleasure built inside of you. Your nails scratched his shoulders leaving red trails of blood behind, urging him to continue. Dark spots formed on your vision as you reached your peak, back arching over the mattress and a lewd scream leaving your mouth.

He laid on your side, a wide grin plastered on his face. “It’s still storming outside, perhaps it would be better for you to spend the night. Just to be safe, you know,” he added with a mischievous wink.

“Shut up,” you replied, leaning over to kiss him, the taste of you still on his lips. “Just tonight. And only because it is freezing out there.”

He nodded half-heartedly and draped an arm around you, pulling you against him. “Sure. Someone has got to keep you warm.”

[theenemyod]

I think it could've been a really good ship, but it was done wrong in cannon so everyone hates it, it came out of nowhere and it could've been amazing if it had proper build up and good timing, but for it to have worked in cannon properly, it would've needed a lot more hints and build up in the first 3 books as well. That's my main opinion on a lot of things in TSM and TGT, Maugris would've been good if there was more foreshadowing and hints, like an actual mention of the sudden personality change or something being pointed out, or at least getting rid or the feeling Call gets when he sees Jericho's body of being near family, because that's basically saying he's Constantine. And I'd accept steriotypical emo-villain Alex if he was shown to like that sort of style or things to do with that before he revealed to be evil, because then it's already a part of his character and makes sense.

Back to the actual subject of Callmara, it could've worked. If

A. they didn't ruin Tamara's personality for it

B. It didn't compleatly overshadow and ruin the plot of the book

C. It had more hints before the 4th book

D. The authors chose a better place and time for it to actually happen.

It's unlikely for any relationship to be healthy when it starts a few months after the death of one of their closest friends/one neither of them would admit they had a crush on (because they both did in my mind), when they're in a dangerous situation and neither of them can think calmly enough to consider if it's a good idea or not, if they should do what they're doing, if they need to slow down and not rush things or if they can speed up.

And lastly just no kissing in the place where all of Jericho's stuff was kept. That's just disrespectful.

Also it's one of those things where she needed to kiss him to prove she loves him back, which when this happens, when they need to kiss to prove they actually love each other, it's normally not a good romance. i wish the authors could've written ways they showed they were actually in love other than kissing and hand holding.

Also I got so much second hand embaresment from Call in almost all of the cannon Callmara scenes it was torture

callmara

idk it's so underrated and overhated. Dw magisterium tumblr, I'm ready for the hate

[alecmagnuslwb]

Teenagers, We Think We’re Smart

Read on AO3

Zatanna’s one hundred percent certain that her father rues the day he brought John Constantine home as his latest project as he paces the floor in front of her running a hand along his goatee with a loud sigh every few minutes.

“He’s a smart young man,” she remembers her father saying to her as Constantine roamed the edges of her father’s study picking up magical tidbits here and there and flipping them around haphazardly. “He’s a little rough around the edges, but he’s got a sorcerers mind. With the right tutelage he might even catch up with you one day.”

Rough around the edges had been her father’s polite description. Really he was the father of a teenage daughter’s worst nightmare, he just somehow missed that part as he allowed John into their home and began training him.

The sandy blonde hair always purposefully tousled, the tattoos that peaked from the edges of his ratty old jacket covered in patches and pins, the line of piercings along both ears and the handsome face with a nose that had been broken a few too many times were exactly what any girl would bring home for dinner to terrorize her parents. And here he was already sitting at the dinner table.

But Zatanna had no interest in making her father angry about the boys she spent her time with. She told herself that to her Constantine would be just another in a long line of young proteges her father picked up hoping to challenge her a little more.

They never did and she was content with letting the Constantine phase pass quickly. Constantine was talented her father had been right about that, but he was also a shameless flirt who liked to live a little too dangerously. It annoyed her to no ends, or at least that’s what she told herself the first few months.

“You’re exhausting,” Zatanna said standing up from her seat at the table they’d been occupying quietly reading until he’d started on a rant about some ancient demon he’d been reading up about. For all that she claimed he was exhausting, she chose to stay at the table for the entire rant. Just like he’d listened to her talk about the finer, boring details of backwards magic the other day. She was just keeping things civil, balanced, that’s all. “And one of these days my father is going to hear you going on about raising demons to fight just fights and he’ll never let you in here again.”

Constantine chuckled standing and following her as she made her way to the door. He caught up putting an arm in front of the exit loosely and just high enough she could still leave if she wanted, but with a quiet request to stop if she chose to as well. She should have ducked under his arm and gone on, but she stayed put turning her head to meet his eyes.

He looked her up and down once that little frustrating almost smile he always seemed to sport when he looked at her on his lips as he held her gaze.

She squirmed under the look. “You know this whole hot, bad boy schtick thing you’ve got going on, doesn’t work on me, right?” she said pulling the book still in her arms tighter to her chest.

“You think I’m hot?” he said with a raise of his left eyebrow, the one with the little scar from where his father had thrown a bottle at him when he was nine. She’s not sure he meant to tell her that story, too vulnerable of a moment to share, but he’d let it slip one night when her father had rushed off to some meeting of sorcerer’s or something of the like leaving the two of them to their own devices. Something had shifted from there; she couldn’t quite be as annoyed with him as she wanted to be anymore.

“Not the point,” she scoffed loosening her hold on the book and letting one of her arms drop to her side. “What I mean is the schtick doesn’t work, because I see there’s more underneath it.”

She didn’t really think after that she just acted lifting herself up and kissing him on the lips once hard and quick. She smiled at him before ducking underneath his arm that had slipped just a little from the shock of her kiss and walked off. She turned back just once before heading up the stairs passing her father who was oblivious to what had just happened to catch sight of Constantine running the tips of his fingers across his lips shaking his head with a smile.

Since then five days a week when he’s at the mansion they’ve been stealing kisses in shadowy alcoves and holding hands a little longer than necessary when conjuring something and the other two days either John’s in the audience of her father’s shows while she assists him or they’re slipping off to get into their own brand of trouble.

Tonight had been the latter and finally after months of caution and her father not so much as batting an eye at them, they’d been caught.

“I cannot believe you did this,” her father says finally speaking for the first time in nearly twenty minutes. Zatanna sits up straight from where she’s been slouched over her head resting on her hand watching as her father’s pacing comes to a stop.

“How long has this thing been going on?” he asks gesturing to the closed door on the other side John is, as far as she knows, still waiting for her father to inevitably ban him from the mansion.

“A few months,” Zatanna shrugs not wanting to go into the details. If he knows it’s been six months and that as weird as it can feel they call each other boyfriend and girlfriend and that a few short days ago John casually and quietly told her he loved her for the first time he’d flip out even more than he already is.

“Months,” he mutters under his breath rubbing a hand across his forehead. “And how long have you been spending your nights in pocket dimension magic bars that you’re not old enough to be in?”

“Just the once,” she quickly answers. He doesn’t need to know about the other pocket dimension magic bar they found themselves in last month and the subsequent bar fight John got into when a four-armed creature got three of his hand’s way too close to her. He’d probably be proud she’s perfected a spell to fix a broken nose without any pain however.

Her father opens his mouth about to say something else when suddenly the faint smell of smoke drifts under the door freezing him in place.

“That better not be a cigarette in my house out there Constantine,” he shouts loud and angry, the fearful sorcerer he is on full display. The smell of smoke dissipates almost instantly just as the clatter of something metal, a conjured ash tray she’d bet, falls to the ground.

She smiles a small amused smile that drops as soon as her father turns back to her.

“You are a child,” he says and Zatanna straightens up even more.

“I’m seventeen,” she says indignantly.

“Exactly, a child, both of you are,” he says once again gesturing to the door John sits behind. “A place like that is no place for you to be.”

“We didn’t even drink or buy anything,” Zatanna defends knowing it’s a weak defense that won’t win this argument. It’s the truth though, her father had just happened to walk into that same bar the moment when John had picked up an empty glass to show her a new trick he’d learned, which looked pretty suspect with no context she’s willing to admit.

“That is not the point and you know it. You have been lying for months and,” he says stuffing his hand into one of the pockets of his fancy black slacks. He pulls out a key with a bright pink motel keychain attached to it, John’s room number blazoned across it in bold black letters. “I found this by your door, you must have dropped it on your way out for drinks.”

She rolls her eyes and he gives her a sharp look that stops the roll in its tracks.

“How many nights have you not slept here?” he asks an eyebrow raised angrily.

“A few,” she shrugs, slinking back into her chair. It’s fifteen to be exact, another thing he doesn’t need to know all the details of.

“So, not only have you been galivanting off in bars you shouldn’t be in and lying about what you do with your free time, but my little girl has also been spending the night with some boy?” he says his voice getting a little louder. Not quite yelling, but definitely not happy.

“A boy you brought around,” she scoffs crossing her arms.

Her father let’s out an angry huff. “Well, not anymore. He’s done. I won’t have a bad influence around my daughter any longer.”

Zatanna stands from her chair grabbing his arm as he turns to the door on a warpath to kick John out for good.

“You can’t do that,” she pleas tugging his sleeve so he looks back at her. “He’s worked so hard, he’s bright just like you said when you first found him.”

“Bright doesn’t excuse lying and dragging my daughter around god knows where,” he says, but Zatanna holds tight to his arm pleading their case, pleading John’s.

“He didn’t drag me anywhere,” she practically shouts to hold her father’s attention.  “I was the one who wanted to go tonight, I’m the one who kissed him first, I’m the one who asked for a key. Me. Not him.”

She takes a breath soldiering on.

“You never want me to go anywhere, I ask for you to show me more and you won’t. I know my magic has limits that you won’t let me discover, but I want to,” she pauses dropping her hand from his arm. “I know you worry and it’s dangerous, but I’m not a little kid anymore. So I went to some of the places and learned some things I’ve been curious about not because John is a bad influence, but because I wanted to. At best he was a protective hand to hold mine if things got too scary and at worst a willing and caring accomplice.”

“No matter what, you’ve still been lying to me, both of you have,” her father says eyes still hard, but softening just a bit.

“Yeah, you’ve got us there and if you want to make us sit in silence and read history of magic books for weeks on end as punishment for sneaking around you can, but don’t send him away. He’s no angel, don’t get me wrong, but he’s not a bad influence, if anything I’m too good of an influence on him that’s the first he’s smoked in weeks,” she says gesturing to the door with a chuckle. “You said it yourself we’re kids. Dumb kids who lied, but every choice I made was mine, and everything we did was between two people who lo-“ she pauses not really wanting to share that with her father right now. She hasn’t even said it back to John yet so she course corrects. “Care for each other in a fully consenting way.”

She finishes her argument off with emphasis hoping her father doesn’t try and go there specifically tonight. She doesn’t need another birds and bees talk from her dad. The first one was painful enough.  

Her father’s shoulders slump and he lets out a sigh more dramatic than necessary.

“Fine,” he says before reaching for the door and turning the handle. John practically falls through it when it opens, catching himself at the last moment.

He clears his throat standing to his full height and gives her father a smile that’s perfectly balanced between apologetic and humble, trying to play off the fact he was very obviously listening to everything that was said through the door.

“Three weeks,” her father says as John settles next to her. He starts to reach out for her hand, but thinks better of it at the last second. “You will both be sitting quietly reading magical history books that will bore you to tears for three weeks, no spells, no conjuring, no magic of any sort.”

“Yes, sir,” they say in unison. John’s shoulders which were rigid with tension, clearly worried he was going to be sent packing all the way back to London, drop and he steps a little closer to Zatanna.

“There will be no more lying, no more magical bars until your both of age,” he continues on holding himself in a parade stance in front of them, all business. “This key,” he says pulling it back out from his pocket and shockingly handing it over to Zatanna. “May be used, but you will come home at a prompt and discussed time when it is.”

“Yes, sir,” they say once again. John seems to feel a little braver now and reaches out tangling his fingers with hers.

“And if you do stay the night, you better be as sly about it as you have been and you must be safe,” he says his eyes staying put on John’s specifically in warning.

“Yes, sir,” he says with a confident nod. “Always am.”

“Good,” her father says softening his stance. “As for tonight though, I think it’s best you went home, John. I’ll let you say your goodnights.”

Her father gives her a small smile before swiftly leaving the room.

John lets out a long-relieved breath once he’s gone.

“Bloody hell I thought for sure he was going to send me packing, or just kill me,” he says letting his head drop down to her shoulder. “Definitely assumed he was about to melt that key right in front of us.”

Zatanna chuckles ruffling his hair and tugging at the ends until he lifts back up.

“Good thing he didn’t cause that one’s yours actually,” she says with a smile dropping it in his hand and pulling her own key from her shorts pocket dangling it in front of his eyes.

“Shit,” he says slipping it into the inside pocket of the long black trench coat he’s taken to wearing of late, she weirdly thinks a tan one would suit him better. “When the hell did I lose that?”

“This morning probably,” she says referring to when John had been sent upstairs by her father that morning to retrieve her for an early morning lesson. Things had gotten a little out of hands in the doorway when they’d been given a moment alone.

“Oops,” he says with a chuckle. He leans down kissing her lightly on the lips once, twice until the loud definitely magically manufactured sound of a ticking clock breaks them apart.

“Sounds like that’s my farewell song playing,” he says leaning in one last time, the linger of the cigarette he barely smoked in the hall still on his lips. “I’ll see you Monday for history lessons.”

Zatanna nods her head smiling as their arms travel along one another until it’s just their fingertips and he’s backing out of the door.

He turns and she follows watching as he heads for the intricate stained glass front doors.

“Hey, John,” she says leaning against the stairs. She can feel her father lingering at the top of them just out of sight, but she doesn’t care. “I love you too.”

He turns half in the door, half out with a big smile on his lips that she’s still getting used to seeing.

“Telling me just as we’re grounded, damn Zee. You’re gonna be the death of me luv,” he says smile still in place, he gives her a wink as he finally makes his way out the door the magic of the mansion closing it behind him.

She hears her father’s footsteps heading down the stairs as she pushes herself off of them.

“You two are going to make me regret giving you that key back aren’t you?” he says with a put-upon sigh.

Zatanna just smiles and makes her way up the steps patting him on the shoulder playfully as she passes.

“We’ll behave, I promise,” she says once she hits the top of the stairs and turns the corner.

“Go to bed,” he shouts after her sounding more like an exasperated single father than he ever has before as he trudges his way back up the stairs.

“As you wish father,” she shouts back playfully making her way down the hall to her room. As she turns the knob to her bedroom door she hears her father mutter with another loud sigh one solitary word: teenagers.

[nothingbutfangirlsmut]

Birthday Surprise

Pairing: Mick Rory x Reader

Rating: None, Fluffy

Requested by: Anon

“could you do a romantic x reader oneshot on mick rory 😍from- Dc's Legends of Tomorrow (Where rory has to keep the newest member of the legends (who's from "Lynchburg, Va" and dreams of becoming a fashion designer) busy by taking her on a fake mission while the other legends (Sara, Ray, Nate, Zari 01, Charlie, John Constantine, Gary, and Ava) set up a surprise birthday party for the reader with her favorite DQ ice cream cake (Cookie crunch) . During the fake mission within a deep forest the reader and rory took a wrong turn and got lost rory took off his coat and wrapped it around the reader's shoulders after telling how cold the reader was, rory then flirted with the reader a bit and told her that he has genuine affections for her and steals her first kiss and wished her a happy birthday as they shared their second kiss. Back to the waverider the legends celebrated the reader's birthday with gifts (a new sketchbook & pens, and a new Rebecca Silver book from rory) and ice cream cake)!Details: The reader's from Lynchburg, VA who's studying to be a fashion designer, she's a skilled martial artist, she's a vegetarian, her favorite color is blue, she loves to read, she loves animals, she even loves designing clothes, she doesn't drink: wine, beer, alcohol, or liquor of any kind! DQ is Dairy Queen a restaurant that sales food and ice cream cakes!”

I really hope I did this justice! I hope you enjoy it! Happy early birthday Anon!!!!!! Hope you devour the hell outta that DQ ice cream cake!!

Well, another year older and it's just another day. I thought the Legends were my friends. I thought they'd at least wish me a happy birthday. Instead, I woke up and was immediately sent out on a mission with Mick. They chose now to finally show me the ropes. They chose today of all days. After getting ready I met Mick on the main deck. He went over the plan. We were scouting some bunker that was supposedly hidden in the dense forest we had landed in.

I followed behind Mick as he led us off the Waverider. I hadn't seen any of the other Legends since I got up.

"Where is everyone?" I asked as we started into the trees.

Mick shrugged.

"Probably still asleep," He said.

I nodded even though he couldn't see me. We walked deeper into the trees until we were completely surrounded by the dense overgrowth. Light barely shown through the branches to light our way. Several minutes of walking passed. Mick had turned in different directions making me think he actually had no clue where he was going.

"What are we suppose to be looking for?" I asked as I crossed my arms over my chest.

The temperature seemed to drop the further into the trees we went. Mick stopped then turned in different directions.

"It should be around this area," Mick grumbled to himself.

I sighed as I rubbed my hands against my arms. I swear if he got us lost I'm going to kill him. He finally chose a direction then continued on. We were only walking for another minute or two before he stopped again. He looked in every direction again.

"Mick," I said in annoyance.

He instantly turned to look at me. I was bouncing now trying to warm myself up. I was surprised as Mick suddenly pulled his jacket off. He walked over to me then gently draped it over my shoulders. I groaned softly as the warmth of it came over me. I grabbed it pulling it tighter against me.

"Sorry (Y/N), I think I got us lost. All these damn trees look the same." He said in his usual deep grumble.

"Any way to get us out of here before I freeze to death?" I asked.

I stiffened as Mick wrapped his arms around me then pulled me into his chest. He was so warm! I found myself snuggling closer to him. He chuckled softly but I didn't care.

"You know there are other ways to warm you up." He said in a mischievous tone.

I leaned back to look up at him with a brow raised. He looked down at me with a cheeky grin that made my heart skip a beat.

"What's a beautiful girl like you doing in a place like this?" He asked in amusement.

I laughed as a blush filled my cheeks. I shook my head but didn't say anything. I knew he was only trying to take my mind off the fact he'd gotten us lost.

"It’s a good thing I have my library card because I am totally checking you out." He said in a softer voice.

"Mick!" I chided him as I slapped his massive chest.

"Do you really think right now is the time for jokes?" I asked harshly.

"Jokes? What jokes?" He asked tilting his head to the side.

I opened my mouth to answer him but then I realized what he said.

"You weren't joking?" I asked hesitantly.

This time he chuckled.

"No (Y/N), I wasn't joking. I thought you'd figure it out by now." He said softly.

"Figure what out?" I asked as I played with his shirt.

He chuckled again then lifted my chin so I'd look at him.

"That I like you. The first woman in the world to get me wrapped around her finger and she doesn't even know it." He said with a small smile.

"Me?" I asked in surprise.

He chuckled as he leaned forward slightly. I was frozen in place as he got closer. His warm soft lips gently pressed against mine. I melted against him as butterflies erupted in my stomach. He pulled away all too soon but pressed his forehead against mine.

"Yes you, birthday girl," He said quietly.

My heart almost stopped at his words.

"You knew?" I asked him.

He nodded then suddenly kissed me again. I wasn't entirely sure what to do as my mind swam from his confession.

"Happy Birthday (Y/N)" He said softly after he pulled away.

I couldn't help but smile. Leave it to me to get myself in this situation but I'm seriously glad I did.

"Are you sure?" I found myself asking.

"Of course I am. I've never taken the time to learn as much about anyone else as I have you." He said with a proud smile.

"Oh really? What could you possibly know?" I asked in amusement.

"Well, you're from Lynchburg, VA. You're currently studying to be a fashion designer. You're a badass badass. You're a vegetarian, your favorite color is blue, you love to read, you go crazy over any animal, and you don't drink alcohol of any kind. That's okay I'll drink it for you." He said everything like he already knew they were facts.

I stared at him in surprise. I don't think anyone has ever remembered that many things about me. I found myself leaning closer like I was going to start the next kiss until his phone rang making me jump.

"You had your phone the whole time?" I asked in bewilderment.

He gave me a sheepish grin then answered it.

"Yea," He said into the device.

There was a pause as he listened to the person on the other end.

"Sure thing, we are on our way," Mick said with a nod.

He hung up then placed his hand against my back to guide me forward.

"I thought we were lost?" I asked raising a brow at him.

I looked up to see a smile on his face but he didn't answer my question. Before I knew it we were back at the Waverider. I smacked his arm making him laugh.

"Why pretend we were lost? That would be a stupid reason just to confess your feelings for someone." I told him harshly.

He rubbed his arm and only continued to smile. I huffed as I stomped past him. That's the last time I let Mick "show me the ropes."

"Surprise!" The loud shouts had me jumping out of my skin.

Mick laughed from behind me as he slid his jacket off my shoulders. In front of me stood the Legends and behind them, the entire main deck was decorated.

"Happy birthday!" They all cheered in unison.

I couldn't help the ridiculous smile that took over my features. Here I was thinking no one cared at all but in reality, this group of extraordinary people cared more than anyone else ever had. I felt Mick step up behind me. He leaned forward then he pressed a gentle kiss to my temple.

My pretty bad day had turned completely around. My friends had thrown me my first ever surprise party. They even got me my favorite Cookie Crunch DQ ice cream cake. I finally felt like I was home.

The Legends were also fantastic gift-givers. I got new sketchbooks and pens. Mick waited to be last. When it was his turn I quickly unwrapped the gift to find a beautiful 1st print of a Rebecca Silver book. I won't lie, I almost cried on that one.

Another year older but not just another day.

—

Requests are open!

—

[everlastingdreams]

BETA John Constantine x Reader : Heaven And Hell Chapter 2

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Summary:  The reader has been travelling alone for a while now, running from her demons. When soon she finds herself dealing with real ones. At first she appears to be just a psychic, but as time passes John finds himself wondering if that is all she is. The rising darkness is coming closer everyday, what part does she come to play ?

Notes:  This took so long and I am so sorry. I finally found a good direction for this story. 

Chapter: 2/?

Word count: 3053 words.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The events at the house still affected you, even after almost a month. It once again reminded you that not every monster is a paranormal being. There are monsters all around, looking like your regular friendly neighbour. Or as John had put it, not all monsters hide under beds. You wondered how he dealt with these kind of things, day in day out. It wasn't the thing you dreamed of doing when you were young, but this life choose you and you were stuck with it. You closed the book you were reading and clicked off the the small reading light before pulling the covers over your body as you laid down to sleep. Soon you felt yourself drifting off .

Scratching.

That's what you heard, you could see your living room as if you were watching it all play out through a camera. It got louder. A dark form crawled out from the shadows, an arm.. no.. it wasn't just that. Long sharp nails dragged across the wooden floors as the creatures crawled from the darkest shadows. Their eyes were like fire. They moved slowly at first, then faster, some crawled on the walls, some on the ceiling as they moved up the stairwell. They begane moving faster, like a shark nearing it's prey. And that's what you were, prey. Their nails scratched the walls as they got closer to your closed bedroom door. Then they screeched loudly, like nails being dragged down a chalkboard. You jolted up gasping for air, you pushed yourself backwards on your bed until your back hit the wall. You looked around your room frantically, and saw daylight stream into your room. It was just a dream. You brushed the hair from your face as it sticked to your skin. The air inside your room felt warm, almost hot. You were shaking as you stepped out of bed, you could use a glass of water after that. You put on some clothes before walking to the kitchen. You weren't to keen on walking through your house but you weren't a scared child anymore. Dreams are just that, dreams. You poured some water in a glass and took a big swig from it before you walked into your living room, you were checking your phone when you felt something beneath your bare feet. You swallowed as you sensed it. You moved your foot carefully, as if you had stepped into glass. You looked down at the floor and your breath quickened as panic rose inside of you. Along the wooden floor were long, deep, lines that splintered the wood. You didn't have to touch that to know what that meant. You didn't bother about how you looked as you grabbed your coat and bolted out the door in one swift move. You thanked the heavens that the key of your car and your wallet was in your jacket. You had no plan for something like this, but you knew one thing. Time to find an exorcist.

You had slept in a hotel since that night, happy that you didn't wake up to scratches on the floor again. You didn't know for certain if you could trust John Constantine, you only met him once, but he was the only one you knew that had knowledge of this sort of life. This 'gift'. And after that 'problem' at your place, you didn't mind to spend some time around a guy who knew how to deal with things like this. Maybe he meant what he said, maybe he could help you learn more about your powers. Or maybe, he couldn't be trusted. But it was either John Constantine or facing whatever was after you alone. There was just one little problem in your plan, you had no idea how to find him. Let alone contact him. Really regretting the fact that you didn't take his silly card now. It was early in the day but that didn't stop you from going to a bar, for a coffee anyway. You didn't feel like sleeping much after what happened. While drinking your coffee you noticed an article on the front of the newspaper that was laying on the bar. You pulled it closer and read about the priest who came back to life and is now performing miracles. You can't help but think this would be something Constantine would be interested in and then it hits you. The priest. You quickly pull out your phone and scroll through your contacts until you find the name of the priest that had send you to help Harold. Constantine had asked you for his number so he could tell the priest that next time he should be contacted as well. There was a fair chance that the priest had John's number. The phone rang a couple of times and then you heard it being picked up. “Hello ?” the man answered. “Father Jenkins ? This is y/n l/n.” You introduced yourself hoping he would actually remember you after everything that had happened. He sounded guildridden when he spoke again “Miss l/n, I was hoping to speak to you again. I wish to apologise-” “There's no need for apologies Father. None of us knew what Harold was capable off.” you interupted him quickly. He sighed “If the need would ever arise again, I will contact the man who helped you. I do not wish to see you harmed.” You felt a spark of hope at his words “Actually, that is why I am calling. I am trying to find Constantine, I was hoping you could tell me his number ?” “I have his number in my contact list. Shall I send it to you in a text message ? Is everything alright Miss l/n ?” he sounded worried, but you didn't want him to worry about you. “Yes, please. That would be great. And don't worry Father, it's nothing I can't handle.” brushing it off. “In that case, may God be with you, y/n. Always.” he told you and you gripped your phone thighter. “Goodbye, Father.” you ended the call. It was clear that it wasn't God who was with you after seeing the scratches in your floor. You finished your coffee and at then your phone beeped as a text popped up on the screen. The priest had sended John's number to you and know you were left to think how you would handle this. Last time you saw him you had told him you prefered not to go with him and now you would have to actually ask him for help. Sighing you called the number. It clicked to voicemail and you hung up immediately. This wasn't something that should go on a voicemail. You called again and after a few seconds, someone picked up. “Heeello?” the man on the other end sounded curious, but you were pretty sure that it wasn't John's voice. “Uhm.. hello. Sorry I might have called the wrong number, I am trying to reach a guy called John Constantine ?” You heard the man chuckle “Then you have the right number, Miss. But i'm afraid John's uh... unable to talk now. He's uh.. sleeping off the drinks from last night.” You raised a brow “Oh, I see. Look, I don't want to be rude but I really need to speak with him.” You could hear that the man was walking around as he spoke “Want to tell me who you are first ? Not many people have this number, and if they do call it's usually never a good thing.” he sounded wary of you and considering who John was you understood why. “My name is y/n l/n. I met him recently, he helped me.” you explained it to him. The man was silent for a second before he let out a chuckle “He told me about you.” he was silent again before continuing “Alright, look, I'll give you the address. If you are who you say you are then I'm sure he won't mind.” He gave you the address and you wrote it down on your phone “Thank you ! I think it is closeby. Is it okay if I come over ?” “Sure. No problem, Miss. The place you're looking for is an old Mill house.” he explained. A mill house ? That was definitely the last place you would expect to find an exorcist, perhaps that is why he chose the place. “Mill house. Got it. I'll be there soon. Thank you !” you quickly said. “See you soon.” he ended the call. It dawned on you that you didn't even ask his name but he sounded genuine. You hurried to your car and started on your journey there. It was a little further then you thought it was, you even had to stop and ask some locals where you could find it. To your suprise some of them didn't even know there was a Mill house in the town. You finally found the place and yup, it sure was a mill house. You had expected it to be bigger but were suprised to see that it was actually pretty small and looked very old. A man walked out the door as you parked your car. He awkwardly waved his hand as a greeting and you walked up to him. “Hi ! I'm -” He interupted you “y/n. I remember. Glad to see you found the place. I'm Chas Chandler, nice to meet you.” he held out his hand for you to shake. This confirmed that he was the one who had answered the call. You shook his hand “Thank you for meeting me.” “Are you kidding ? I'm the lucky one for meeting you. John told me all about the woman that saved his ass.” Chas looked like he was enjoying the thought of it. You smiled shyly “It was team work mostly.” “That's what he said to me as well. But John has a tendency to make the truth sound nicer then it usually is.” he let out an audible breath “But you're here to see John, he got out of the shower couple of minutes ago. Thought I would greet you while he made himself presentable. Or at least tries to. Come on, I'll take you to him.” he nodded towards the mill house and you followed him inside. The inside of the place looked so much bigger then you had expected it to be. You followed Chas down a spiral staircase, eyes wide at all the shelves filled with strange objects and symbols carved into the wood. You were staring at the objects when John walked into the room. Chas cleared his throat before speaking up "Hey, John ! Someone's here to see you." John was putting his tie on when you walked into what looked like the living area. "What are y-" he turned to look in Chas's direction and his eyes landed on you immediately. He looked like he didn't expect you and by the way Chas was grinning at him you were sure that that was exactly the case. "It's y/n, you know, the uh.. what did you call her again ? The pretty -" John's expression switched from suprised to caught in headlights in an instant. "Weren't you going to pick up your daughter, Chas ?" John quickly stopped him from finishing the sentence. “Right.” Chas snapped his fingers before turning in your direction. “I'll leave you to it then.” He mouthed a 'good luck' at you and you gave a discreet nod. Chas left you two alone in the mill house. John looked at you intrigued and put his hands in his pockets “Wasn't expecting you.” “Clearly. I thought Chas had told you I was coming here. I tried to call you.” you explained the situation. He grimaced at that “Looks like I'll need to lock my phone with a pin next time.” John stepped closer to you “Not that I'm complaining, luv. I was hoping I'd see you again.” he winked at you before a lopsided grin grew on his face. You snapped your eyes away and cleared your throat. Oh boy, it appeared that he thought you were here for a different reason. “I was trying to contact you. I've been thinking and maybe I was wrong to turn down your offer back at Harold's place. You were right, I could use someone to guide me, to teach me in these things.” John's smile faded when he understood why you were here and he turned away from you to grab himself a drink “You made the right choice back there.” He sat down on the couch and you followed him, you took a seat next to him and watched as he pulled out his lighter to fiddle with it “Take my advice. You don't want to know what's out there.”

“When we met, you looked disappointed when I turned down your offer and now you're telling me I made the right choice.. why is that, John ?” He sighed deeply before taking a swig of his drink “Had some time to think. Not long before I met you, I met a woman. Daughter of a friend that passed away. She could see the world for what it really was. It didn't take long for a demon to see what she was, and it started hunting her." He didn't look at you as he spoke, he just flicked his lighter open and close a couple of times "We had the demon trapped inside a seal of solomon, and he reminded me what happens to people who stay around me." He clicked the lighter shut. "Nothing good ?" you carefully guessed. "The woman had all her father's gifts, but not everyone is cut from the right cloth to do this thing." He looked at you "This isn't a reversible thing. You spend too much time around evil, it starts to follow you. It will always find you." the words were bitter. At this point you realised he was trying to make you understand, maybe even scare you away. But he didn't know that those things he feared would start hunting you, had already started. "She didn't want to do what her father did ?" You guessed. He nodded and gave a small smile, his eyes not able to hide his true emotion "And she made the right call. It will keep her safe." You looked at your hands in your lap "Maybe I shouldn't have been so reckless with my gift." You murmered to yourself. That snapped his attention to you "What's that, luv ?" You hadn't told him the reason you came to find him in the first place. "A couple of nights ago, I had a vision. I never had one like it. " you confessed and started to fidget with your jacket. "There were monsters in my house, dragging their nails across my floorboards and walls. I woke up before they got inside my bedroom." He thought about what you said for a moment "Your visions.. they can be tricky I'm sure. Perhaps the thing with Harry is still troubling you." You nodded but shook your head, wishing that was true "That's what I thought. But then I went downstairs.. there were long scratches on my floor, it had splintered the wood." John's whole body turned to you instantly at your words, his brows drew together for a second before he spoke hastly "Are you sure that wasn't a vision ?" You stood up "I'm sure of it. I just ran out of there right away. I have been trying to find you since then." John's shoulders heaved when he let out a breath, but you doubted it was out of relief "That was a good call." "Is something haunting me ? Something from Harold's house ?" You tried to keep your voice steady but the fear was still audible in your words. He looked at your voice, searching for the right word. "John? "You asked impatientely. "Maybe." He looked at your face "Yes, it sounds like it." He admitted reluctantly. You drew a breath and held your form. "Whatever it is, it's not coming from that house, y/n. There were no demons there." He said before he cursed to himself. He had said more then he intended to. Your eyes snapped up to him in shock "Did you just say 'demons' like actual..." He looked apologetic "Yes. The ones that crawl out of hell." You felt sick, demons.. really ? "What do they want with me ?" He dragged a hand over his chin "I don't know yet. But we'll find out, in the meantime you can stay here. This place will keep you safe. That and the fact that you've got an exorcist closeby." He looked at you hopefull. As if he was afraid that you would turn down a safe-haven against monsters. "That sounds like a good idea." You started. He smiled and put his hands in the pockets of his trousers again "On one condition." He closed his eyes, letting his chin rest against his chest as he let out an audible groan "which is ?" You smirked and crossed your arms "I don't want to be stuck in this place, I wan't to see what it's like." He looked at you "What what's like ?" He was warry of what you were asking. "What you do." You cleared it up. He narrowed his eyes at you as if he was trying to solve a puzzle, then his eyes widened "No ! No bloody way I'm taking you along." This wasn't going to be easy. "I could get hurt here too, you know. This place is filled with stuff that could be dangerous. Besides, you just said I would be safer if I stay close.” you reminded him. John drank the last of his drink in one go as he shook his head, cursing himself “Fine.” Your eyes lit up but then.. “But I have a one condition.” he turned to you again, his expression serious. “No contacting spirits unless I'm there with you. Like I said before, it's not only friendly ghosts hearing you.” He didn't have to remind you of that considering there were demons after you now “Deal.”

Reply to the post if you want me to add you to the taglist for this series. And feel free to let me know if you want to be removed from my taglist as well offcourse. 

Taglist: 

@bisexual-space-slut​  @venusofthehardsells @ buckybarnesthedoritoslut @deansinkdbitch​

[art5242]

The task of the twenty-sixth drawing was to do something about lgbtq+ role models.🏳️‍🌈

First I had the idea of doing something about celebrities and other popular and important lgbtq+ people who are role models for our community and everyone else. But then my comic heart spoke to me, I had another idea and I knew I had to this.

So I decided to draw lgbtq+ role models from Marvel and DC comics, who are for me really important and changed in my view the comic world. 💕

The first couple I drew is Wiccan and Hulkling. From their first appearance it was indicated that their is more than friendship between them and after some comic books they finally had their first kiss panel. Wiccan and Hulkling are one of the most popular gay couples in the Marvel comic books and I would say the most popular gay teen couple. (In the New Avengers they are engaged and it's known that they are married in the future)

The next I drew is Northstar and Kyle Jinadu. Northstar is the first openly gay character in Marvel comics who came official out in 1992 and changed with that a lot in Marvel and mainstream comics . Finally he married his partner Kyle in 2012 , this was the first same-sex wedding in mainstream comics.

Midnighter and Apollo are a gay couple of Wildstorm/DC. From their first appearance it was clear they are a couple and finally they had the first same-sex kiss in maistream comics. Their wedding in 2006 was the first same-sex wedding in superhero comics. Later they adopted also their daughter Jenny Quantum.

And the last is Batwoman. For me personally she is the most popular lesbian character in DC comics (and maybe in mainstream comics too). She is also jewish and engaged with her longtime girlfriend Maggie Sawyer.

And here is a little list of some more lgbtq+ characters in comic books. It's a list I made on my own for this post, so I'm sorry if I wrote a sexuality wrong and a character is for example bisexual and not gay (but all characters are definitely queer) and yes, there are much more lgbtq+ characters but I chose these who came in the moment in my mind and who are in my view popular and a kind of role models too. I hope you enjoy! 🥰🏳️‍🌈:

Marvel characters:

Wiccan (Asgardian/Demiurg)/ William "Billy" Kaplan - gay

Hulkling/ Theodore "Teddy" Altman (Dorrek VIII.) - gay

Northstar/ Jean-Paul Beaubier - gay

Kyle Jinadu - gay

Valkyrie - bisexual

Loki - genderfluid and bisexual

Iceman/ Robert Louis "Bobby" Drake - gay

Mystique/ Raven Darkholme - bisexual (fluid sexuality and gender)

Deadpool/ Wade Winston Wilson - pansexual

Anole/ Viktor Borkowski - gay

Striker/ Brandon Sharpe - gay

Shatterstar/ Gaveedra Seven - queer (bisexual)

Rictor/ Julio Esteban "Ric" Richter - gay (-> Shatterstar and Rictor had the first same-sex kiss in a mainstream Marvel Comic)

Lucy in the Sky/ L.S.D./ Karolina Dean - lesbian

Miss America/ America Chavez - lesbian (-> America is the first latin lgbtq+ character in Marvel comics)

DC characters:

Batwoman/ Katherine "Kate" Kane - lesbian

Midnighter/ Dave/ Lucas Trent - gay; (Wildstorm/ DC Comics)

Apollo/ Andrew Pulaski - gay; (Wildstorm/DC Comics)

Question/ Renée Montoya - lesbian

Maggie Sawyer - lesbian

Constantine/ John Constantine - bisexual

Pied Piper/ Hartley Rathaway - gay (-> Pied Piper is the first openly gay villain in DC comics)

Obsidian/ Todd James Rice - gay

Harley Quinn/ Dr. Harleen Frances Quinzel - queer (bisexual)

Poison Ivy/ Dr. Pamela Lillian Isley - queer (bisexual)

Catwoman/ Selina Kyle - bisexual

Wonder Woman/ Princess Diana of Themyscira/ Diana Prince - bisexual

Green Lantern/ Alan Scott - gay; (DC Comics, Earth 2)

[kaitycole]

Changes in Attitude (Part 1)

Summary: Jackson lets his mind wonder back to his days in Cordonia.

Word Count: 3601

Pairings: Constantine x Eleanor, Eleanor x Jackson, Jackson x Bianca 

Warnings: Mention of alcohol, Mentions of miscarriage

A/N: In this series/universe, Constantine had -one- social season where he chose Liana and then just had a courtship with Eleanor. Also, due to dramatic twist this piece ended up being way longer than I planned, so to stick with the rough outline I have this will be a two part chapter.

**This song pairs well with this piece: Worst In Me by Julia Michaels**

Part 13 of WP. To catch up read here.

Tag List: @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore​​ @kingliam2019​​ @texaskitten30​​ @glaimtruelovealways​​ @bobasheebaby​​ @bascmve01​​  @burnsoslow​​  @the-everlasting-dream​​  @ao719​​ @sirbeepsalot​​  @janezillow​​  @i-bloody-love-drake-walker​​ @kimmiedoo5​​  @choices97​​ @marshmallowsaremyfavorite​​ @lodberg​​ @edgiestwinter​​  @marshmallowsandfire​​ @hopefulmoonobject​​​  @iaminlovewithtrr​​  @cordonianroyalty​  

Jackson sits down at the kitchen table, having just finished cleaning up. It was around noon that he offered to fix lunch and Drake and Riley accepted. Their lunch wasn’t too eventful, just a bit of small talk. He didn’t go too much more into detail about the ball, once Constantine had announced Eleanor wasn’t feeling well; many people took it as their cue to leave, including the Walkers.

Riley told him more about how they ended up in Montana with Drake adding small details here and there. He could see the struggle for Drake to open up: both wanting to but not wanting to in fear of getting burned. He knew that feeling all too well. Drake also took the opportunity to tell Jackson how shortly after his funeral, Bianca had left. Leaving Drake and Savannah in the care of Bastien, claiming the loss of her husband was too hard for her to stay or raise the kids.

He watched as Drake shrugged it off: years of pretending it didn’t hurt him that she left, but Jackson could tell it bothered his son. For years, both he and Eleanor lived regretting not leaving with Liam, Drake, and Savannah, but it was a lot harder when the source of regret was looking him in the eye.

He wants to pour a glass of bourbon, help settle his nerves, but Eleanor constantly asked him not to drink until at least after 5 PM. It has been three years since her passing and he still lives as if she’s there, just shopping or with her friends. When Drake said he likes his coffee black, Jackson was proud. He drank his coffee black for years until one day Eleanor added her Hazelnut creamer to the wrong mug. The only reason any was in the fridge was that he still picked it up like he had the last seventeen years.

The house is empty, Luke’s out with his friends, leaving Jackson alone with his thoughts. It came off easy to relive those memories with Riley and Drake, but the truth was it tore him apart. When Eleanor had passed away, Jackson locked everything up inside; wanting to be strong for Luke. Remembering their story from the beginning was just as painful as losing her. Running his fingers through his hair, he pours himself a glass of bourbon. What Eleanor didn’t know couldn’t hurt her.

Jackson grabs the glass and heads out back to sit on the porch swing: Eleanor’s favorite spot for the family to relax after spending all day apart. Closing his eyes, he thinks back to the events that occurred after the ball.

*          *

Weeks have passed since the ball and both Jackson and Eleanor have kept their distance from one another. While they each tried telling themselves it was due to busy schedules, they knew deep down it was because of the rumors Barthelemy Beaumont didn’t mind spreading or entertaining.

Even when the two would see each other in passing, they simply acted as if they didn’t notice the other. Jackson still maintained his respect by bowing, but he didn’t address her nor her him. If people had been oblivious to their closer than normal relationship before the ball, they noticed the icy temperature of their run-ins now. The maids all gossip, but none could pinpoint when the two had iced over.

Jackson hates not talking with Eleanor; he misses her. He misses her smile and laughter: the way that she can make awful days better with just one look. He used to feel that the days dragged when he didn’t see her, now time all but stopped.

“Is the Queen mad at you or something?” Timothy asks; Jackson’s gloomy attitude is like a rain cloud floating above his head, “Did she tell you she wasn’t interested?”

Jackson pushes Timothy into the wall, “How many times do I have to tell you to shut the hell up?”

Timothy pushes back, but Jackson keeps him pinned up against the wall.

“I mean it, stop bringing up stuff that no one is talking about.”

“Is there a problem here, gentlemen?” A soft voice questions, coming around the corner.

Jackson recognizes the voice before he sees her face and immediately releases Timothy.

“No, your majesty.” Timothy bows.

“I see,” she looks over at Jackson, “May I speak to Officer Walker, please?”

“Of course, your majesty.” Timothy leaves the two of them alone but doesn’t go too far, keeping within earshot.

“How can I help you, your majesty?”

“Jackson.” Her hand twitches, wanting to reach out but refraining. “Is there a reason you’re shoving guards into the walls?”

“We had a small misunderstanding, it won’t happen again, Queen Eleanor.”

He knows using her proper titles would hurt, but he doesn’t know it is breaking her heart. She chews the inside of her lip, blinking back tears. She looks at the man she loves as he treats her like a stranger.

“I see.” Her voice breaks, a tear slipping down her cheek. She waits for him to reach out, to go back to being her Jackson: he doesn’t, he stands there coldly like her husband.

“I should be getting back to my rounds, ma’am.” He bows and then turns on his heel. His boots click with each step as he walks down the hall, leaving the Queen alone; completely broken.

She takes a deep breath, blinks the tears from her eyes, and decides to walk outside. It wasn’t rare for her to feel alone: despite being in a constant spotlight, the palace was a very lonely place. But the loneliness she felt from Jackson’s cold shoulder was different. It was like being unable to wake from a bad dream.

The warm air swirls around her and she finds herself smiling. She loves being outside and tries to spend as much time as she can out there. Being inside for long periods often felt suffocating. The sound of giggling fills her ears and upon investigation, she sees Liam and Drake running around. She squats down, hiding behind a bush and watches them play.

“Why do you always want to be the knight?” Liam questions his best friend.

Drake shrugs, “Cause it’s my job to keep you safe. Like my dad keeps your dad safe.”

“I wanna be a knight too!” Liam beams.

“But you’re the king.”

“Well, I want to keep you safe too!”

“Someone has to do lots of reading, you’re good at reading.”

Eleanor puts her hand over her mouth as she giggles. If only life was as simple as they thought.

Liam thinks deeply, “Let’s make a deal.”

“I’m listening.”

“As a knight, I want you to keep my mom safe.”

“Of course.” Drake shakes hands with Liam.

“What are you two sweet boys doing?” She says, scaring them as she stands up.

“Playing king and knights. Drake’s gonna keep you safe.”

“And Liam’s gonna read king stuff,” Drake says.

She smiles at them, “Can I play?”

“Girls aren’t knights, Momma.”

“Maybe I want to be,” she pauses, “a dragon!” She begins flapping her arms around as she starts chasing after the boys. Both boys start squealing, running around the courtyard. It’s not long before Olivia, Savannah, and Maxwell have joined in: both Olivia and Savannah choosing to be baby dragons.

Eleanor scoops Liam in her arms, tickling him. “Nom nom nom.”

Liam squeals, “Stop, Momma, stop!”

“Me next. Me next!” The other children took turns getting captured by the dragon. Soon everyone is lying in the grass: trying to catch their breath. When she finally stands up, she scoops all the child in her arms, hugging them tightly. When she lets go, the children resume their game while she watches; a huge smile on her face.

Unbeknownst to Eleanor, she has been watched by two different men, both captivated by her for two very different reasons.

From a second-story window, Constantine watches his wife after he had gotten up from his desk to see what all noise was. He’ll never understand her blatant disregard for courtly behavior. Sure, it wasn’t unheard of for the queen to interact with her children, but to run around and then lay on the ground: that was uncalled for. The closest his mother ever acted like that was when she’d sit outside and he’d try to show her sparing techniques he’d learn, although she never looked up from her book. Constantine just stares at his wife in disbelief that she so openly shows motherly affection to Olivia and even the Walker children. Maybe it wasn’t the fact she acted the way she did but was the fact she acted like another blonde woman. The same blonde woman that Constantine once held above everything, even above the crown.

A few yards away, stationed at the far end of the courtyard, Jackson keeps his eyes on the queen. Anyone around him would assume he’s just doing his job, but they were wrong. He knew months ago that he had developed feelings for her, but watching her now it was clear he loves her. The usually elegant queen is completely carefree, almost as if she’s in her element: her blonde hair blowing in the wind as she chases after the children. He loves how she effortlessly shows affection to his children. She always told him how much she wanted at least two more kids after Liam, wanting him to have siblings to rely on when she couldn’t be there for him.

A pair of footsteps cause Eleanor to turn her attention away from the children. The radiant smile she once wore turns into an almost forced one as she sees who has joined her.

“May I?” He motions to the open space beside her on the bench.

“Of course.” What is he thinking? Eleanor directs her attention back to the children.

There’s an awkward silence that lingers over the both of them before Eleanor stands up to leave.

“Ellie, wait.”

She stops, looking at the man sitting, “What, Constantine?”

He takes a deep breath. This was all very much out of character, he doesn’t know how to be vulnerable, “Are you doing okay?”

Her head whips around quickly, her brows knit together. What game is he playing? “I’m sorry?”

He turns to face her, grabbing her hands, “I should’ve heard you out more instead of shutting you down.”

“I went off without thinking and I shouldn’t have.”

He gives her a sad smile, “I wasn’t talking about the ball. I meant the pregnancy.”

Eleanor stares at her husband in complete disbelief. Of all the years they’ve been together, never once had he acted like this. For the first time ever, she misses his icy demeanor.

“What are you doing?” He looks puzzles as she touches her forearm to his forehead.

“I’m seeing if you have a fever. You’re acting strange.”

Constantine feels anger begin to fill him, quickly being reminded why he doesn’t show emotions. Letting out a deep breath, he explains himself.

“I saw you playing with Liam and the others.” He catches her looking away, blush on her cheeks, “You deserve to have been heard during that.”

Fresh tears prick at her eyes. She spent months being mad, allowing her anger to build a wall. A wall to prevent her from having to deal with the pain; a mixture of losing her child and her husband abandoning her. She doesn’t want that wall to fall, she doesn’t want to let him in.

“It’s no excuse, I know it’s not, but of all the trainings I’ve ever had…none prepared me for this role.” He knows it sounds stupid, all the public speaking he’s taken and done, couldn’t help him here. Though to be fair, most of what he said to the public was written by someone else, he just had to say it the proper way.

“And what role would that be exactly? Compassionate?” There’s a bite in her words and he knows he deserves it. He shouldn’t have just sprung the topic on her, he would react similarly if someone  brought up Liana randomly.

“A husband. A father.” He gives a slight shrug, “But again, it’s no excuse.”

She isn’t sure what to think right now. The man in front of her looks like her husband, sounds like him, but his actions aren’t. Was this the man who Liana knew?

“It was no secret that the main objective of remarrying was to have another child, to stabilize the monarchy.” He lets out a shaky breath, “Marriage is about compromise, give and take and all I’ve done is take from you. For that I’m sorry.”

If the wind had blown, Eleanor would’ve fallen over. Clearly this was a dream and she’d wake up from it any minute, but moments pass and she knows it’s real. However, she wasn’t sure why he was doing this. Why after all this time was he acting like this.

“I’m not following. Constantine, did something happen? You’re starting to worry me.”

“It’s just…I just…can we start over?”

“Start over?”  

“I was thinking that maybe we can do something tonight. Something as a family and then just the two of us.”

She cocks her head to the side, “What did you have in mind?”

“I was thinking a game night?”

She smiles at the blush on his face, he was truly nervous about all of this. “I think the children would like that. And for just us?”

His face turns redder, “Oh…uhm…I was…how about…it’s a surprise.”

She lets out a small laugh, “Well, I’m looking forward to that. I should get the children inside and ready for dinner.”

He stands up quickly so he’s able to help her up. “I’ll escort you inside. I have a few things to finish before dinner.”

She blushes and for a moment feels butterflies. Eleanor is lost in thought until Liam crashes into her legs, “Hi Momma!”

“Hey sweet boy.”

“Papa!” Liam runs to his father and wraps his arms around Constantine’s legs, “Are you done with work?”

Constantine stands still, he wasn’t one to show affection. From the corner of his eye, he can see Eleanor watching, slightly worried about how he’d react to Liam.

“Not yet, Liam.”

Eleanor sees Liam’s face fall. Many days, Liam would sit outside his father’s office waiting for him to finish work.

“Papa just has a little left and then we are going to have a game night.”

Liam brightens up and smiles, “Yay!”

Constantine looks at Eleanor and smiles: she always knew what to say and he needed to learn to appreciate that more. He reaches for her arm, stopping her before he presses a kiss to her temple, “Thank you, Ellie.”

“Of course. He really looks up to you, ya know.” She grabs onto his arm as they all walk back into the palace.

With a broken heart, Jackson watches the whole display. His eyes have been glued to the couple from the moment Constantine walked outside. At his distance, he couldn’t hear their conversation, but El’s body language said it all. He watched as she went from defensive to accepting and how she clung to him as they walk back inside together. A display typically reserved for public events.

*          *

If you ask Constantine, he’ll say they are a family of four plus one; Eleanor will tell you they are a family of five. Either way, three children and two adults sat around a table in the sitting room.

Liam wants to play Clue. Olivia wants to play Risk. Leo wants to go to his room. Eleanor and Constantine set up a game of Jenga.

“You get the mystery of not knowing which piece will fall and the strategy of which piece to pull. Everyone wins.” Constantine tells Liam and Olivia. Leo simply just rolls his eyes, making sure to let out an annoyed huff loud enough for his father to hear.

After Leo purposefully causes the tower to fall over three times, he’s sent to his room; leaving the other four to enjoy the game.

Constantine watches Olivia, the look her face makes before each turn would make him proud if he could see past her traitorous heritage. Her determination reminds him of his own and how he wishes Leo would shape up, but he refuses to allow himself to feel anything other than distain for the young Nevrakis.

He feels himself getting slightly annoyed that while Olivia makes masterful choices, his own son hesitates and looks to his mother for guidance. Not being the Crown Prince doesn’t mean Liam won’t have responsibilities, to have to make choices that will affect people, but Constantine didn’t think a son of his could be so weak.

“Papa, it’s your turn!” Liam smiles at his father.

He looks at the tower in front of him, it was getting towards the point where it would fall. He quickly moves a piece; the tower begins to sway side to side. He watches as Liam holds his breath, as if that would prevent the pieces from falling.

“Liam, what are you doing?”

“I didn’t want to knock it over, Papa.”

He leans over, making direct eye contact with his son, “Remember Liam, as a ruler, no matter how small the role, always make decisions confidently.”

“Yes Papa.”

When it becomes Liam’s turn, he pulls a piece which causes the tower to finally fall. Constantine’s face falls, while it was just a game, he wanted more from his son.

“That’s okay, sweet boy, we can try again.”

“But I meant to do it, Momma.” He looks at his dad, “I knew it would have to fall, so I chose to be the one to do it.”

Constantine chuckles and smiles at his son, “That’s my boy.” While it might not have been a victorious move, he felt pride welling in his chest.

*          *

“I think the children really enjoyed that, thank you Constantine.” Eleanor smiles as she closes the door to Liam’s room, “Maybe we could do it again. Get Leo to stay.”

“That would be nice.” He isn’t sure what to say, he had conflicted feelings. He enjoyed spending time with Liam, even Olivia, but his father never did those things. Could he still be a good king if he wasn’t like his father?

“So.” She suddenly feels nervous around her husband, remembering what he had mentioned earlier. It has been a bit since the two were intimate and honestly it wasn’t something that has crossed her mind recently. She wasn’t sure if it was from the stress of life or if it had anything to do with Jackson.

“This way, Ellie.” He motions for her to walk back down the hall. She gets more confused with each step, especially when they pass their sleeping quarters. What in the world?

They end up walking out into the courtyard where she sees a small table set up with some lit candles.

“What is all this?” She looks up at her husband, seeing someone different than she’s known for years.

The man who she had known back when they began courting, honestly it was the man she assumed Liana knew. To be honest, she used to think a lot about how Constantine must’ve been around Liana. Wondering how much he changed when she first left. Eleanor had met him a few times before his social season started, his father made several trips to Auvernese.

During those times, Constantine would come off confident and regal; just like his father. But he had a warmth to him that his father lacked, however that warmth was put out when his heart was broken.

“I thought you deserved something nice.” His hands are in his pockets and he’s refusing to make eye contact with her. She finds it somewhat endearing, the fact that he’s being bashful which is opposite of his normal attitude.

She stretches up on her tiptoes and presses a kiss to his cheek, “I love it.”

A smile touches his lips but just as quickly as it appears, it vanishes. He escorts her to the table and then pull out her chair before sitting down himself. Between the two candles on the tables, there’s a glass vase with white dahlias: her favorite.

“Since we already have dinner, I thought you might like dessert.” He raises his arm and motions towards someone behind Eleanor. Shortly after, one of the chefs brings out a covered platter and places two glass bowls of vanilla ice cream in front of them. Another one of her favorites.

“This is lovely, Constantine.” Her smile causes his cheeks to blush and she can’t help but giggle. For the first time in years, the silence between them is comfortable.

He keeps looking up at her but looking away before she sees. He knows that she isn’t Liana, other than a few physical similarities, the two were complete opposites. However, with her now, he was feeling the same way he did with Liana: peaceful. He thought if he kept Eleanor at a distance, she wouldn’t be able to hurt him like Liana did. But over the last few days, watching and thinking about her he found himself wanting to try. To try to have a better marriage, one full of love and maybe even a few more children.

“Maybe we could make this a weekly thing.”

“Oh.” Her voice is full of shock.

“Or not. Once seems like enough.” His walls instantly went back up.

She reaches out and grabs his hand, “I didn’t mean it that way. I think it’d be a great idea.”

[potatowitch]

tagged by @5lazarus <3

30 Questions

Name/Nickname: Potato, Taters

Gender: Cis woman

Orientation: Bisexual (I think lmao)

Star sign: Aquarius

Height: I think it’s 5′6? Haven’t measured myself in a good long while

Time: 6:30 in the feckin morning

Birthday: 28th January

Favourite band: The Amazing Devil

Favourite solo artist: It’s either Hozier or Meg Myers

Song stuck in my head: I Come With Knives by IAMX

Last movie: Constantine

Last show: The Crown

When did I create this blog: Early 2016.

What do I post: Mainly Dragon Age; some Baldur’s Gate 3, Mass Effect, Star Wars, The Witcher. I also enjoy a quality shitpost.

Last thing I googled: “NFWMB lyrics”

Do I get asks: On occasion. Usually as part of ask games.

Why I chose my URL: I have no fucking clue lmao. I’d been using it as a pseud for a while, especially while I was playing SWTOR, but I don’t actually remember how I came up with it.

Following: 1,801

Followers: 540

Average amount of sleep: Look. Okay. My sleep is fucked up. I tend to go like 28 hours without it and then sleep for 16. I don’t recommend it.

Lucky number: I like 13 and 7 but I don’t think they’re particularly lucky.

Instruments: I own an electric guitar and a ukulele, but I can’t play either of them.

What am I wearing: Oversized tshirt and booty shorts, as always. Bonus points for the delightful fluffy pink scrunchie I found that matches my favourite dressing gown

Dream job: I do not “dream” of labor. Fuck that. I want to be a swamp witch. Or a swamp witch’s trophy wife.

Dream trip: Climbing up some really cold mountains then just hanging out in a cabin for months until people start to wonder if I’ve actually died

Favourite food: Cannot go wrong with some good pasta. Go heavy on the black olives and the parmesan.

Nationality: Australian. My accent is pretty weird bc I’m only second gen, so a lot of Americans hear me talk and think I’m English.

Favorite song: King by The Amazing Devil

Last book read: The Calling, I think? It was one of the Dragon Age books

Top three fictional universes I’d like to live in: I can only think of two, but Star Wars and LOTR. There are lots of universes I would be fine to live in as long as I am the hero and not Random Peasant 1823891278 Who Still Has Many Chronic Illnesses

Tagging (please let me know if you don’t want me to tag you in things like this): @oxygenforthewicked @sopml @justalittledoty @icanscribblestuff @khajiithasnowares

[kiss-my-freckle]

“But I’m not on Reddington’s side. Or her side. I’m on the side of the truth.”

Insert Donald Ressler for the whole truth because he’s going to learn everything Tom knew right before he died. That’s why Ressler has been playing opposite.

“But the truth is, when I was in Stark's lab, I saw Reddington's medical file.”  

Consider “fate” to be a series of events beyond a person's control, and these events happening for a reason. Consider these events needing to happen in order as they do for things to happen as they should. Norman Devane's entire episode was written around fate.

Fate #1: Red getting kidnapped by the woman in Paris.

Ilya: I’m not like you. I may have been once, but not anymore. What happened in Havana and Paris, I - I just can’t shake it. Red: Neither can I. But I can accept it. Things happen. Ilya: You, a fatalist? Save that for someone who doesn’t know you so well. You leave nothing to fate. Red: I try to leave nothing to fate, but I’m perfectly comfortable with chaos. That’s why I trust that whatever happens is probably meant to be.

Fate #2: Ilya going to his goddaughter's wedding.

Red: Drunken revelers, interminable toasting, cheesy cover bands - I can’t think of a better place for a covert meeting. Ilya: I doubt it will work, but I will try. Red: That’s all anyone can do. The rest, we leave to fate. - Ilya: You were right. About the wedding feeling safe. Meeting is confirmed. Red: Then you need to change. We’ll have you home in a jiffy. Things are looking up! Between you and Devane, we now have two lines in the water. A fish will eventually bite. Ilya: Because everything happens for a reason. Even if that reason is as random as my goddaughter’s wedding.

Fate #3: Red's "treatment" with Dr. Stark.

Red: Stark’s treatment was ineffective. Ilya: I’m sorry. Red: Sometimes, things happen for a reason. And sometimes I just don’t know what that reason is.

One must truly see fate play out, and they gave us a small taste of that with the Berdy intel. Fate wanted Aram to crash this specific wedding with Elodie and get that intel in order to save Ilya's life. One can argue that Ilya's life would've never needed saving had he gotten the intel to begin with, but had he gotten it when he was supposed to, you can remove Orion's episode and everything that followed. The timing is just as important as the order. This was fated to happen because one event is leading into another. Fate #1 because this woman from Paris was meant to be Agnes' nanny. Red getting kidnapped leading to Dom getting shot leading to the woman entering Liz's life to be Agnes' nanny.

Now it's time to push it backward in order to move it forward, which is what I've been saying regarding Liz's "bigger life." Bring back that Berdy intel so we can reverse it. Fate #2 now going back to Fate #1 in order to reach Fate #3. The Berdy intel later rather than sooner so the Stark storyline can play out as fate wants it to. It's a series of events that must happen a certain way or it won't work. Had Ilya gotten that intel when he was supposed to, Liz would've never found out about Maddy Tolliver, she would've never found out Red isn't Ilya, and the woman from Paris would've never led her to believe she's her mother. This would’ve removed Fate #3.

Insert: An out-of-the-blue collapse. Reason for reason.

Doctor: Maybe you can get him to listen to reason. Dembe: It's unlikely, but I'll try. Doctor: Try hard. His life depends on it.

"Trying"

Red: I try to leave nothing to fate, but I’m perfectly comfortable with chaos. That’s why I trust that whatever happens is probably meant to be.

Ilya: I doubt it will work, but I will try. Red: That’s all anyone can do.

No need for Dembe to try, fate is finishing up its series of events. This incident acts as the bridge, leading Red to learn the reason for Fate #3. Consider the episodes in their original order before the writers chose to reverse them with the season cut short.

Roy Cain, 7x17.

My guess, Red's collapse in 7x16 was fated to happen because it scared Red into choosing his successor in 7x17. In doing so, led to Liz informing Ressler about Red choosing his successor and question his timing. Ressler now believes it has to do with Red having medical issues.

Dembe and his imam are saved by Red and his team, so Liz is now faced with the idea of choosing between Red and the woman. Imagine the burden.

Brothers, 7x18.

Take that burden to their Keenler scene. “Have you looked at my life? I'm a widow and a single mom. A marionette with a high-functioning sociopath pulling my strings. My grandfather tried to murder my mother, and my mother is a legendarily lethal Russian spy who moved in next door without even telling me who she was. I mean it. Have you looked at my life? I mean, really taken a close look. Because it's like I'm in the middle of a monsoon that's constantly threatening to drown me in bad news. And somewhere in the middle of that FEMA disaster of a life... somewhere is just a tiny island of calm. And if that weren't there, I would be swept out to sea.”

Our finale with 7x19.

“Looking”

Liz and Ressler in Roy Cain.

Ressler: But the truth is, when I was in Stark's lab, I saw Reddington's medical file.   Liz: What did it say? Ressler: I didn't read it. But it was ‭the size of a telephone book, and clearly he didn't want me to see what was in it.

Liz and Ressler in Brothers.

Liz: Have you looked at my life?

Liz: I mean it. Have you looked at my life? I mean, really taken a close look.

Ressler back in Norman Devane.

Red: About my chart. Ressler: I didn’t look at it. Red: Why not? Ressler: Because sometimes you’re supposed to look the other way. It was a pretty thick file, though.

“Not on my watch.”

Imagine fate wanting one man to save an entire family. If Ressler goes after Red's medical file, it will cause Red to go after Ressler. After all, he’ll learn Red’s truth just by looking at it, and Red can’t have that. Liz’s life and soul. The burden of choice is now shared. Based on intel from Red’s medical file, saving Liz's life and soul in helping her make that decision by telling her the woman from Paris isn't her mother. In helping her make this choice, saving Red’s life because Liz will kill the woman from Paris. After all, she went after everyone Liz cares about, which she made another mention to in Roy Cain’s episode. This can be done without revealing Rederina.

Finalize it with a Red-Ressler conversation because Ressler shoved his nose in Red’s medical file. I don't believe Stark has anything to do with Red. I believe he’s trying to donate to someone, and that's why his file is as thick as a phone book. Because it contains multiple medical files. Insert Dom being a Rostov, then take that back to Constantin Rostov and his blood disorder. Blood panels. I believe Red was trying to donate to Agnes after Kirk took stem cells from her, and Ressler will be the one to donate instead. Ressler then saving Agnes' life by being the one to donate. In order for Ressler to find out he’s the father, he must first have that converation with Red over his medical file, which won’t happen unless he takes a close look at Liz’s life.

Basically, Ressler and Red would never have a conversation about his medical file had fate not let Red get kidnapped in Paris and pushed them through this series of events. Ressler would never learn Red is Liz’s mother, and Red would never learn Ressler is Agnes’ father. 

“Destiny. Fate. Me. You.” - Rederina

Liz: My question is, what the hell happened? Red: You did. You and Agent Ressler. “Destiny. Fate. Me. You.” - Keenler & Keenler baby

I wanted to put this in a separate post because it got to be so long. There may be missing bits to this, but I’ll note them with a link back in my rewatch post. But as I continue to state and stand by my statement, I don’t know why the fuck people are assuming Red is sick. No symptoms until he’s literally coughing and collapsing. Has he so much as coughed any time before then? NO. Did he think to consider his successor after finding out Stark’s treatment didn’t work? NO. Did he seek assistance from Dr. Stark after his collapse? NO. Because they’re not related. Fate #3 going back to Fate #2. Agnes isn’t Ressler’s gooddaughter, she’s his daughter. 

“And blackmail is such a nasty business, particularly among friends, don’t you think?” And my Minister D prediction still stands. “My boss ordered me not to kill you, but he didn’t say anything about messing up that pretty face.” Tom’s debt from 4x8. “You owe me.” Tom saving Ressler’s pretty face. “Yeah, I know I'm pretty, but you're not my type.” Because Red’s medical file is blackmail material... against Katarina Rostova. “You blackmailed the wrong person.” Taken back to Cape May. “And to harm him would be to harm her. A mortal sin.” Ressler is the father. “Her father.”

My question is, what the hell happened? You did. You and Agent Ressler.    ... and then her memory was wiped.

[lizzybeth1986]

Quick Thoughts on Is This The Real Life or Is This Just A Very Bizarre Fantasy?

• Here are the tags to block if you don't want to see this post on your dash: #long post, #trh quick thoughts, #trh qts, #trh qt reblogs.

• It's...Chapter 10. Often known as the midpoint. I know TRR isn't exactly the most nuanced series out there, but you know what used to happen by midpoints here? Important plot stuff that had buildup and development prior to it happening.

• Funny enough all three chapter 10s so far had something to do with Constantine! Book 1's had him announce he was stepping down and making Liam king, Book 2 had the reveal that the conspiracy against the MC was his idea. And then he actually dies in Book 3 Chapter 10. Now that he's no more, I guess they brought back another asshole dad to take his place.

• PB if you were really in a mood to bring back Bertrand's dad the least you could have done was build it up properly. You had an entire freaking chapter to at least build up on the Beaumont family relationships and issues! Yet all we see is that motorcycle with a hint that never fully gets told and very little besides that.

• Like, the narrative usually takes soooo much time to build everything properly, right? With chapters and chapters of hints? Look at all these things that you built up over chapters and sometimes over books: Liam's issues with his dad...The whereabouts of Savannah...Drake's connection to Bastien...Drake's mom's ranch...Drake's special relationship with his dad...Drake's duel...Drake's secret wedding...oh.

• Screenshots:

Hana: The Abhirio YouTube channel

Drake: @thefirstcourtesan and the BizzysChoices YouTube channel

Maxwell: @itsbrindleybinch

Title: The Beaumont Bachelor Bash

Alternative Title: Proof That Drake Is Undoubtedly Leona's Nephew. Even When He's Trying To Be Nice.

• Now Playing As Bertrand.

Wh - what...?

Okay but this is probably a tiny section and then my MC will come and save the day, right? Right?? I mean it's happened before (one of the most recent times we got a Bertrand PoV was in a Chapter 10, in fact!)

• ...how the hell did a motorcycle fit inside THAT BOX?

• I know, I know. It's mentioned time and again that the package is huuuuge. But that's...not the kind of packaging I'd be expecting for something that large. It wouldn't be SQUARE, at least.

• Okay wait. What was Maxwell panicking and stress-dancing about again? Bertrand isn't cottoning on to this plan as quickly as Maxwell/the LI was implying in that text.

• Okay wait so their great plan for the BBBB was...Bertrand putting away his cutlery and..."roughin' it"? Aren't bachelor/ette parties supposed to be catered to the guest of honour's needs?

Or is "something you want" only meant for Savannah? Because Hana actually read up and did research and tried to cater the entire party to whatever Savannah liked - not drag her along for something that wasn't her thing with "expand your horizons!" as an excuse.

• Like me, Bertrand doesn't fully trust his brother-in-law's motives.

• Wait what.

.• Bertrand is getting a new outfit. Oh he's wearing it already. Okay good. Must be free!

•

WHAT. WHAT. ARE YOU TELLING ME I'M NOT SEEING ESTHER FOR THE REST OF THIS CHAPTER

• I am NOT buying Bertrand new clothes. I didn't buy any last book, and I'm not going to start buying them now. Even if I didn't buy him the swanky maroon sweater last book he somehow wound up wearing it anyway in the finale. I'm sure he'll survive and they'll probably let him wear it for free some other time lol.

• Drake leads the boys to a nearby river, hoping to catch some fish that they can cook for dinner later.

• Bertrand gets...a dilapidated fishing pole. While everyone has prepared enough to get their own, perfectly alright ones. Drake is truly from Leona's bloodline, giving Bertrand stuff that'll make his task difficult (remember how she gave Bertrand a really rough horse to the country fair?). "I just wanted you to believe in yourself", my ass. You're doing this for your own entertainment.

• Also wasn't Maxwell organizing this party? Why does the end result look so much like Drake's idea? Or maybe the boys are splitting the activities between each other or something idk.

•

• That's a...puffer fish?

• The funniest option is the choose to grab Drake because Bertrand calls him "the Aggressively Rustic Drake" haha. It means of course that Bertrand will not get a fish but that's okay, Drake and Liam catch more than enough for dinner.

• But if Bertrand DOES catch that big fish his chest is all puffed out in pride and he notices no one else caught a fish as big as his 😄

• You can TELL Liam chose the next activity, because it's so aggressively Cordonian 😂 You need to shoot an apple with a weapon (preferably a bow and arrow, but the game offers you a rifle and an ornate gun as well).

• Of course I went ahead and shot Drake with a rubber bullet. Sorry Bertrand but I'm sure you can get your Knight-Marksmanship and Honorary Defender of the Realm award in a kinder person's playthrough 😅

• It's a nice scene, quite reminiscent of the first half of Maxwell's armoury scene last book, which involves Maxwell and the MC playing the same game.

• Now that we're done with the apples, it's time to bring out the bubbly!

• "This is not my bachelor party," says Drake when a surprised Liam asks him about why there's no whiskey. Coulda fooled me dude I've never heard of people giving the groom a dilapidated fishing pole to fish with for that kind of thing. I mean like more than 90% of this entire plan seems to cater to your tastes more than his.

• Bertrand (about the bubbly): This is from an excellent region of France!

Maxwell: Which one?

Bertrand: ...Champagne.

😂

• It's now night, so time for some...idk heartfelt man-talk or something.

•

It starts out with the main LI speaking about Bertrand and Savannah's relationship, praising them for how far they've come and there is some emphasis on the fact that they have Bartie. This leads the LI in question (if they're there) to talk candidly about their relationship with the MC and their sadness that they aren't pregnant yet.

- Liam: Speaks of how amazing the MC is and wonders if he's putting her through too much pressure on his Queen with the expectations of an heir.

- Drake: Very similar to Liam's, but this time Liam apologizes for forcing them into this kind of pressure and promises to withdraw it if that's what they want. (Liam will allow it, the narrative won't!)

- Hana: Since neither of the women are there, the conversation goes straight into Liam wondering if he did the wrong thing by placing that much pressure on them, and Bertrand reassuring him that both are phenomenal women and any child they bring up will be a worthy successor to the throne.

- Maxwell: From what @itsbrindleybinch was telling me, there's no discussion about Liam's offer or the pressure from him! The conversation is more centered around his fear that he might screw up in parenting...to which his brother has some of the best responses:

Istg when the writers really allow for those two to blossom on their own, the Brothers Beaumont dynamic is fantastic. I loved both responses from Bertrand.

I'm still wondering why there isn't much from Liam about the pressure he's placing on them, though! I mean, Maxwell and his wife are put under the same amounts of pressure so you'd expect Liam to speak up there too, right? (correct me if I'm wrong, because I can't find a full playthrough of Maxwell's route anywhere).

• The discussion slowly progresses into one about Bertrand's love for Savannah and not knowing how to show it properly to her...to which Drake responds that Bertrand needs to SHOW what he feels and maybe do a big dramatic gesture like the ones you see in romcoms (racing through an airport to confess your love, or confessing it while standing in the rain)...lmao I love how big gestures are something Savannah wants for herself but somehow she can't do the smallest things to help Bertrand feel more comfortable in her own damn home.

• Also I need to laugh at how desperately the writers are now trying to show us how "open minded" Drake is LMAO. TRR Drake looked down on his nose on practically all things not macho (including authentic Chinese food and pink cakes) and now they're making it sound like he's a romcom fan and willing to experiment with a tutu.

• Not buying that serenading scene. I didn't handhold Bertrand into telling Savannah about the Beaumont finances, nor did I handhold him into proposing. He did pretty okay without my help so far.

• The serenading scene has two main components (besides the logistics of communicating and then climbing up to her window) - telling Savannah his feelings and then singing to her. The first main options include suggestions from the boys:

Liam: Very sweet and romantic, with the kind of flowery language you would expect from Liam, and that Bertrand feels so comfortable with that he smiles as he says the words.

Drake: Very much, "I was an idiot but now I've come to my senses and I'm the luckiest man ever because of you" which...sure I can put it down to bias for his sister but now it just annoys me when I hear this. Esp during a time when he's claiming he actually likes Bertrand now.

Maxwell: Is just so fucking funny 😂

Bertrand: Savannah, I'm here because you're my...boo???

Maxwell: Trust me! Keep going!

Bertrand: Ahem. You are my boo, and I'm your...okay I'm not going to say that.

Savannah: What are you saying???

• For actually serenading her with a song you can either choose to go sweet and romantic, or you go "sexy", which tbh seems to be the funnier option because most of it is Bertrand muttering MmmMMmMmmm in place of all the sexy parts. Which is funny considering he and Savannah conceived a child atop an office desk of all places way before any of us even got to KISS our LIs 🤣

• Savannah is happy, Bertrand is happy, the boys are all back in the camp where they'll be spending the night. There's a tiny bit of "foreshadowing" in the ensuing conversation since Barthelemy is mentioned, but very much in a "Dad would be proud of you" way. I put that word "foreshadowing" in quotes coz there is very little it gives us, as opposed to how other things that have received foreshadowing were built up.

• Uh oh. BEAR ATTACK. From Kenna's pet-bear-from-Aurelia's descendant. Who somehow ended up in the woods in Texas 😂

• Drake tries to distract the bear, and Bertrand can either join him or go with Liam and Maxwell who are leading the way to an alternative location.

• We're out in the wilderness somewhere, and getting back to our tents is a diamond option. It's a fun diamond option though, and it doesn't involve me doing any unnecessary matchmaking.

• Liam is the strategist who makes a battle plan. Why don't I get to see him do these kind of things in his actual job PB!! Drake "knows the most woodcraft" and will therefore make a good scout, both he and Liam can draw the bear away, and Maxwell's hitherto-unseen present is now their secret weapon. Bertrand isn't sure about this plan but goes along with it anyway.

• Everything goes as per plan, and Maxwell unleashes the "secret weapon": Bertrand's beloved Cavilieri Novanta 9S motorbike. There's a small hint about him having to perhaps give it away or sell it when his father, well, did whatever he did, and Maxwell somehow traced it and got it back. I'm kinda certain that bike may feature in Bertrand's flashback if he's having one next chapter. Bertrand is emotional AND ecstatic, learning again to control his bike and to enjoy being on it.

• The best part of the bear scene, is when he uses his Duke of Ramsford voice and gives the bear the ole what-for 😂

(Bottom four screenshots from BizzysChoices' YouTube channel!)

• Even the bear could not withstand the severe tongue lashing LMAO. Bertrand has the option of ending this...um...verbal duel by telling his furry opponent to tell his children he has been bested by a Beaumont.

• The bear slumps back home in shame, but Bertrand is worried about what other tests Drake has in store. 'Tests?' Drake says innocently.

•

You're forgetting the part where you constantly blamed Bertrand for everything, knowing full well your sister made her fair share of mistakes. Or the part where you pretty much sabotaged an investigation just to stroke your ego about Bertrand getting her pregnant. Or the part where you repeatedly made it clear that you thought he didn't deserve Savannah. Or the part where you made him cluck like a chicken just before he proposed, just so you could have your moment to gloat. Or the part where you would shoot looks at Bertrand if he even so much as hinted your sister wasn't perfect. Or the part where your aunt kept making snide remarks about him, disrespected him, and gave him a rough horse, while you and your mother and your sister stood by and watched. And NOW you claim that the only person doubting Bertrand is BERTRAND?

Yeah. Well...tldr:

• My gosh. The amount of retconning happening here is giving me a headache.

• Like...I like that Drake can be nicer to Bertrand now and that most of the tension is gone. But let's not act like Drake wasn't knowingly adding fuel to the fire before??

• Anyway, the boys tell Bertrand they are proud of him and proceed to sleep in their tents or wherever they've chosen to sleep for the night.

• PB gives Liam the very, very rare chance to remind Drake that he grew up in a palace. Doesn't mean much, but I'm fairly happy.

• FINALLY. Esther's home and I can finally play as her again!

• If you bought the serenading scene, there are a couple extra lines showing Savannah and Bertrand looking super super happy.

• There's an old man at the door.

• BARTHELEMY???

• Neither of his sons even look like him. And it reads as if Bertrand is less surprised about the possibility that Barthelemy is alive than Maxwell is. What's going on.

General Thoughts:

• Alright, so it looks like this week we will be exploring the Beaumont family history, looking into why Bertrand lost his zest for life and ended up taking care of the estate when all this time his father was actually alive, and how the Beaumonts wound up so poor. There had better be a substantial amount of Maxwell because he's not been getting a lot of attention this book.

• I'm wondering if Barthelemy's return will cause Bertrand and Maxwell's insecurities to rise again, and we'll probably need to help them through that or something.

• Looks like the next chapter might have a young!Maxwell scene or Maxwell's first diamond scene, or both? Idk. I can't say for sure because I don't exactly trust the team on these things.

• There were...elements of the chapter that were good, I'll give it that. Bertrand's got an interesting narrative voice. You can tell it's him by the way he uses titles, by the way he speaks when he is proud of something he has achieved, the language itself that is heavy in its bearing. The scenes were fun from what I've seen. The bonding was good. Problem was...in a better book this wouldn't have been so irritating and such a sign of how not into the most important things about this book the team is.

• Since they had the time and the ideas, why the hell was the buildup to this reveal so flimsy and half-baked? I mean if you're going to give Bertrand an entire freaking chapter, shouldn't you have been using at least that space to have Bertrand speak a little more about Barthelemy? Or build it up earlier? All this time we'd had to deal with Savannah's griping and complaining and Leona's snide remarks, we could have spent learning from Maxwell a little about his family.

• Usually buildup to a lot of these things happen through hints over chapters. But this? Little to none. Maybe like two half-sentences said just before the reveal. It's all kinds of shitty, and it's what happens when the most important Beaumont is a Walker.

• I'm also pretty surprised Liam doesn't get to apologize to Maxwell the way he does to Drake about the royal heir thing.

• So the Walker Ranch chapters started around Chapter 6, and might possibly end around Chapter 12 (with a detour to Auvernal around Chapter 9). That's 5 whole chapters + one more to tour the States itself.

• I know the original idea was to do an epilogue book revolving around the Walker ranch, so there's obviously a lot more clarity in those chapters than in the others. But that is still no excuse. If they were going to change track they should have been doing it properly. There's no excuse for this kind of selective laziness especially when it's been manifested countless times before.

• I also find the whole idea of revolving the epilogue book still pretty problematic. At the core of it that would be more of Drake and his family (which was already happening honestly) and it would mean they are absolutely front and center of everything. If the original idea was to focus fully on the Walkers...yikes.

• Yeah honestly, this chapter was pretty iffy for me. And I'm not exactly very enthusiastic about writing for it, or playing the next chapter.

• Also! For those who didn't see it, this past week I'd been working on an essay about the treatment for Kiara and Penelope in TRR Book 3, and it's here below in case you haven't read it and you want to!

To Be Not Heard: Kiara, Penelope and the Question of Validation.

• Alright! On to the next chapter.

If you like it and want to discuss it, I'd be only too happy to read your comments! 😀