#Constantine falls under magic too | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

its-queen-panda-bear · 2 months ago

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Drop the Little Constantine lore

I know exactly who asked this 👀 you're not slick

But shore, I shall use this as an excuse to ramble about the long lore of little Constantine

This is Ambrose Constantine, my DC OC that originally started off as a very quickly made dnd character and now has quickly ruined my life (affectionate) He is the son of John Constantine and would eventually become the embodiment of Death

(Lore ramble under the cut)

Ambrose grew up in London being raised by a single mother after his dad walked out on them before he was even born. Despite this, his mother has always held onto the hope that one day he would come back (hence why she named their son Ambrose John Constantine)

John falsely believed that his son wouldn't inherit any of his magic capabilities and figured that they would be safer if he was away. But he was wrong with the first bit because while his magic didn't come in until later in life, Ambrose did inherit his father's ability to see not only the dead, but other supernatural beings as well.

Ambrose was constantly tormented by these said beings, but everyone around him brushed it off as night terrors or something to that effect. He would also get constantly bullied for talking to himself while at school by the other kids, that sort of thing. He eventually got diagnosed with schizophrenia and was sent to a psych ward after he suffered a huge breakdown at just 12.

Then when he was 14, he stumbled upon a spell book while out in his public library and found a spell that he thought would help deal with his bullying problem. The next day while at school, he attempted the spell and it worked...too good and the bully nearly died after being caught on fire. Ambrose was then sent to another psych ward to avoid jail time but was suddenly broken out after only two weeks when one John Constantine showed up.

Long story short cause this can take forever, John explained everything about him being his father and about the world of magic and how dangerous it could be if not done right. There was a lot of back and forth, until John begrudgingly agreed that it would be better and safer if he trained Ambrose properly.

I'm also going to skim over the part when they discover that Ambrose's magic has an emotional component to it, meaning that not only can his emotions dictate how well or powerful his spells are when cast, it can also affect the color of it. This just basically means that he has to be in the right head space while casting or chaos/danger will ensue. This is why his bully almost died when he attempted a spell because he was so worked up and angry while casting it.

After a year of training, Ambrose joined in on his dad's adventures and was excited to help people. He eventually met other vigilantes, but continued to operate mostly with John. The two didn't really get along but John still felt an obligation towards Ambrose to at least try and keep him safe. It wasn't until he was 17 that they had a falling out and Ambrose struck out on his own. He decided that in order to protect his mom from any potential repercussions, he designed a costume and started going by the name Moonweaver.

Though, he soon discovered that his methods weren't all that welcomed amongst his fellow vigilantes and his magic was deemed too dangerous as he often left his villains in critical condition. They also didn't like how petty he could be as he was known for making people go annoyed him...shit frogs.

During this time striking out on his own, he met and started dating a girl named Agnes, who claimed to be a witch. He fell hard for her and she encouraged him to seek out more magic and branch out his spells. This led him to discovering his speciality for blood and chaos magic.

(Side note ramble which will be important to note later: Ambrose specializes in sigil and blood magic. He combines the two by drawing symbols with his own blood to add more kick to it since blood is a very powerful tool and ingredient. He ended up mastering creating his own sigils on the spot, which he can use for whatever situation 👌)

Everything with Agnes seemed to be going great with a minimum of red flags here and there...until a year and a half into their relationship Agnes was revealed to be a demon that had been sent to spy on him and wanted his soul. This resulted in a very messy breakup while they fought each other. Their fight attracted the attention of The Outlaws, who managed to come in and help hold her off while Ambrose set up a ritual to banish her.

After that, he somehow managed to find his way into joining The Outlaws.

With The Outlaws, Ambrose finally felt a sense of belonging and despite being the youngest there, he got along very well with all of them. (Especially with Anton aka Green Lantern aka Christmas who is my best friend's OC)

Then when he was 21, he met Nightwing and Starfire's daughter, Vertina aka Tina, who he immediately fell for. Though, the two didn't end up dating until a year later and suddenly, everything in his life felt like it was falling into place.

Tina was everything to him and the two were very clearly obsessed with each other, much to Nightwing's dismay. Tina brought out the good in him and he genuinely saw himself marrying her and helping her open her dream bakery once they retired from crime fighting.

Two years into the relationship, Ambrose couldn't hold himself back and proposed to her, to which she said yes

(Art of Tina by her creator @marstothestarz )

Though, in typical DC fashion, nothing good can last forever...

Months before they were planned to get married, an alien warlord invaded Earth with his entire army. All the heroes and villains teamed up together in order to try and stop them. Ambrose was sent out on a team with Nightwing and Batman (Cass) to infiltrate the main ship to plant bombs. Though, they were soon discovered and a fight broke out, which resulted in Ambrose getting badly injured. Cass managed to slip away, but the bomb was dismantled and Nightwing and Ambrose were captured.

They were thrown into separate cells and Ambrose was left bleeding out from a stomach wound. It was then that he saw a woman dressed in robes out from the corner of his eye and knew that it was Death.

Although, in that moment Nightwing managed to break them both out and regrouped with Batman. Since Ambrose was still bleeding from a stomach wound and the bomb was dismantled, the two older heroes decided to forget the mission and retreat in order to get Ambrose medical attention.

But Ambrose knew the stakes that were at hand and came up with a plan of his own. He knew that he was dying anyways and the entire world rested on their shoulders to destroy the ship. So he tricked the two into an escape pod and remained behind. He then found his way to the center control panel of the ship and began to use his own blood to draw sigils on his body and performed a ritual that made him the bomb instead by concentrating all of his energy and magic. So when the enemies broke through, he released the powerful blast that destroyed the entire ship with him in it.

...

But then he came back a year later after John Constantine rescued him from hell (long story) and after crawling out from his own grave, John immediately threw him his costume and sent him back out into a fight since it turned out that now Darkseid was invading and it was all hands on deck.

Ambrose was still reeling from the trauma of dying and his time spent in hell, but forced himself to focus on the task at hand and find Tina through the chaos. When he found her, he called out her name to which she turned around mid-fight to look in his direction... giving the enemy the chance to pick her up and rip her in half right in front of him

Skipping over the rest of the fight simply because we haven't fleshed that part out, but needless to say that in the end, Darkseid was defeated, but now Ambrose was left alone as he was forced to bury the love of his life so soon after coming back from his own grave.

Despite the fact he still had the ability to see ghosts, he never once saw Tina's, which drove him insane for that first year after her death.

He immediately retired after her funeral and didn't give any attempts at healing or moving on, although he did end up with a service dog that he named Coldplay.

For two years he spent mourning the life he never would get to have with Tina and waited till the day he could see her again.

And then something strange started happening.

Hundreds of people suddenly started dying randomly without any warning whatsoever at the hands of a mysterious woman, who turned out to be Death herself who had gone crazy from the thousands and thousands of years she spent reaping and guiding souls. No one could seem to stop her warpath as she continued to tear through people and causing chaos onto the streets.

Needless to say, this definitely brought Ambrose out of retirement as he joined forces with his dad and other heroes in an attempt to stop her. The only nagging question was what would happen if they did end up stopping her? What would happen if Death died?

Ambrose knew the answer.

Back when he was dating Anges, she mentioned in passing a rumor/old wives tell about how Death wasn't always just one person throughout the beginning of time, but was multiple people. It said that when the time came, Death would pass on their responsibilities to someone worthy, or should Death ever be killed, it would then pass onto the one who killed them. It was considered that if a person was Death for too long, they would start to go insane and corrupted, so it was important for them to pass on the responsibility before this happened.

Remembering this, Ambrose made a decision. Similarly to the way he sacrificed his life to save the world, this time he chose to sacrifice his death

We haven't gone over the specifics over how this goes down, but Ambrose manages to kill Death which causes him to go through the transformation of taking on the responsibility and role of Death

(Ambrose as Death ft. Ghost Tina)

Even though he willingly accepted becoming Death, it still took him a while to fully come to terms with the fact that he would never die and if he did, it would be after everyone he's ever known dies and watched as civilizations rise then fall.

One of the perks, however, was that this new promotion granted him the ability to see Tina again. In order to respect the balance and also not take her away from paradise, he is only allowed to see her once a year when the veil is the thinnest aka Halloween. While it's not a lot, he would take whatever he can get just to see her face.

And thus, is the lore of little Constantine 😁

#DC oc #John Constantine #dcu #my oc stuff

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ekat-fandom-blog · 4 months ago

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Abandoned Fic Idea

So, a year or 2 ago, I was working on a (now abandoned) Gravity Falls/DC crossover fic where the DC heroes (and some villains probably) needed to use the Cipher Wheel in order to trap/get rid of Bill Cipher. In the fic(which will never be worked on again probably), Dipper and Mabel were accidentally sent to the DC universe so their place in the wheel didn't need to be filled. (also, they were there to warn the heroes about Bill)

The Symbols seem to have dual meanings (I'm extrapolating this off of very minimal research I did when I was planning the fic) seeing as Soos's symbol is the question mark because of the shirt he was wearing and Wendy's was the ice symbol because of her demeanor and being "cool in the face of danger".

My first thought was that Question would take Soos's place as the question mark symbol (easy and obvious). But given that the only information given in the show is Bill calling Soos "Question Mark" and Soos wearing the question mark t-shirt pretty consistently, I don't know what personality trait it would be other than "inquisitive" (which, in my opinion, doesn't fit Soos very well)

My second thought was Constantine taking over Wendy's place as the ice symbol, but the reason she's the ice symbol is because she's cool under pressure, so I also thought maybe Batman, Wonder Woman, or Raven. Or go a more literal route and have an ice powered individual take Wendy's place.

Then there's the fish/crescent/oyster (because it slowly went from a crescent to a fish "oyster" shape) symbol that wasn't ever explained because it was on Stan's fez hat. Maybe Aquaman would fit because it's a sea creature at the end of the show? Or maybe Constantine because fish and oysters are commonly symbolic of luck?

Next one would be the pine tree. I know I said Dipper and Mabel are there to fill their spots in the Wheel, but if they weren't, who would take their place? I'll get back to Mabel later, so focusing on the pine tree: Plant Thing is honestly the best choice for this in my opinion (even going the symbolism route). The symbolism of pine trees is typically longevity, wisdom, and stability. Wonder Woman would also be a good fit.

The pentagram (star) with an eye in the center is Gideon's symbol as well as the symbol he uses for his Tent of Telepathy. Going off of that: J'onn and M'gann comes to mind. Honestly the only thing that I think of when the symbol is "mind reading" and "magic" so I'm not sure who else could fit this one.

A six fingered hand is next on the wheel and boy do I want to cry when I attempt to think of anyone other than Ford filling this spot. Not because I'm especially fond of Ford or anything, but because the only thing I can think of is "extra limb" and I don't know any heroes or villains who have extra limbs that isn't a feature of their species (which means it isn't "extra"). There does seem to be a spiritual meaning to having 6 fingered hands (luck, spiritual connection, unique ability, disharmony in your soul, wisdom, compassion, and a bunch of other things which kinda makes sense if you think too hard about the show and Fords relationship with Bill) but I do get a headache whenever I think about this one, so I'm gonna stop.

Llama is the next symbol and it's another one I don't understand because it was only filled by Pacifica because Mabel gave her a llama sweater. Some symbolism is communication (especially when trouble arrives), tenacity, ruggedness, action, courage, duty, etc, etc. I don't think this fits Pacifica especially well, but whatever. Beast Boy might suit this for the sole reason of being able to turn into a llama (which seems to be enough of a reason for it to work). NEXT!

Mabel's shooting star symbol is next! I told you I'd get back to her. The shooting star seems to fit her personality better than anyone else's symbol. It's the symbol of hopes, dreams, creativity, and change. Now - unlike Ford's symbol - I don't want to pick one of the DC characters to represent the shooting star symbol because Mabel is my favorite character in the show, but alas that is the challenge I have given myself so I must try. I feel strongly that Jason or Steph when either were Robin would fit the bill (lol) pretty well, or Nightwing, but I kinda want to pick Stargirl, Jessica Cruz, or Starfire. All of them are good, but there's one that suits the position much better(in my opinion): Hope Corgi.

On to Robbie's stitched up heart. I'm not sure what the meaning was because - like everyone's symbols except for Wendy's and Fiddleford's - the meaning was never explained in the show outside of "oh look they're literally wearing their symbol." My best guess is that the symbol symbolizes past heartache, working past emotional turmoil, and healing heartbreak. This meaning would make most of the heroes suitable for representing this symbol. I think Cyborg might be the most literal in this case though. Or Razor(1, 2).

Last up is Fiddleford with the glasses symbol which is representative of a scholar. I really want to point at Batman for this one, but I'm not sure how well the word "scholar" fits rather than "eclectic know-it-all". Hal was in the air force which means he's pretty smart too... And then there's Diana whose job is museum curator or a diplomat and the princess of Themyscira. Ok, this one sucks because it's basically "pick the smart one" and at that point you've just gotta hope that everyone else available was better suited for one of the other symbols on the wheel and there isn't more than 3 people left over to watch on the sidelines.

Anyway, that's all of them! Let me know your thoughts, ideas, and questions. If anyone wants to snatch this idea and do something with it, just tag me so I can see it!

Cipher Wheel under the cut

#dc comic #gravity falls #dc x gravity falls #crossover au #thought experiment #dccipher

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the-nocturnal-writer · 1 year ago

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Your talent for drawing is outstanding! Thank you for showing us your drawings! You're an amazing designer.

Also care to share some facts about the ROs + Crow, please 🫠?

😭😭 Going to make me cry to sleep with how sweet you all are... Thank you, Anon! I try to improve every day.

Random RO Facts? At 12AM? More common then you think. I got you, Anon (Now I must try not to fall asleep or spoil too much, which I’m terrible at ahhhhhh) It's a little long so- Under the cut it goes!

Ashborn

Ashborn lives and works with her mother, Lady Dalilah, at Arcana Herbs. Since Ash is rather strong and tall compared to Dalilah, they usually do the heavy lifting and deliveries, otherwise they’re behind the counter serving customers. Thanks to this, they already sort of know the MC, since they do the deliveries for The Wolf Den.

They are unintentionally the biggest charmer of all the romance options, being the best in social situations and the most friendly with others. Ashborn is also the scariest to anger, I thought it was Constantin… But nope, it’s Ash. Fear the one who is hard to anger.

She can’t fit through the majority of doors in Evenfall, Ashborn is too tall and often hits their head when not paying attention. Though, Ash isn’t the tallest Romantic Interest. (They were before Constantin and Sonja showed up. They also suffer head trauma from the doorframes.)

Ashborn was born in a small desert kingdom outside Darkrow, travelling and ending up in Evenfall with their mother when they were around ten or eleven years old.

Heka

Not much is really known about where Heka comes from, other then the fact he lived in the kingdom neighbouring Ashborn’s homeland for a small time, it’s the place that actually inspired the current appearance of his human form. Not long after, Heka ended up moving to Evenfall to offer his medical skills, as well as following a strange feeling in his gut…

Before even all that, Heka travelled the seas and explored a lot, so he gained a wide knowledge of the world in his time on ships. It also happens to be how he met Constantin back in the day.

Heka has a strong infinity with healing magic, magic not commonly granted to devils, making him a rarity among his people. His magic is the reason he decided to learn and become a doctor during his time at sea.

Every devil knows each other, the Infernal Realm isn’t big enough for devils to not meet at least once or twice in a lifetime. Sonja has never, at least in her time there, seen Heka in the Infernal Realm. This makes her wonder if Heka was even born there or if maybe he’s just far older then she is and left before her time. It’s a mystery.

Constantin

Where to begin with Constantin… Well for a start, Constantin isn’t a local of Evenfall but was born in the Kingdom of Darkrow. Constantin was born to a vampire father and human mother, being raised mostly by her until being found and made into a Hunter. Sadly it’s a fate most half-blood children face.

Constantin is a very skilled hunter, learning in his youth to use various weapons but favouring swords and his fists in fights. His preferred weapon is an Eastern-style blade that belonged to his father.

Love and emotions are something Constantin has to re-learn, his social etiquette is horrible and he has a hard time expressing his feelings through words. I used to think he’d also be horrible with physical affection and expressions, but after writing more it felt more right to make him someone who shows how he feels through actions. I also feel that despite him not eating human food, Constantin is a good cook and will do it often for people he cares for. It’s a habit he had to learn sleeping with a workaholic who doesn’t eat.

Constantin isn’t ever seen without his silver locket, it has a lot of sentimental value and is a reminder of what little humanity he has left. I’d say without it, there would be no chance of ever teaching him love again.

Why not, a few more random facts- Constantin is extremely sensitive to touch, his hair, hands and back being the most reactive to physical contact. He also has a big hatred for normal fucking clothing. Shirts? Hates them. Sleeves? Awful. Pants that aren’t skin-tight? Pure shit. He likes his more revealing attire, maybe it’s the vampire in him…

Rowan

Rowan is a devout, an Ethereal born from a Warden and Elven race (more to be posted about Elven races soon), in Rowan’s case, they descend from a druid bloodline. Druids are creatures with a strong connection to nature and animals, some even having animal features (like Rowan’s fox ears). They grew up in the Ethereal realm and don’t know much about their mother or her side of the family, just what she was.

Rowan is an old acquaintance of Sonja, the two having first met during their time serving the Infernal and Ethereal armies, but both will never admit to their past due to respect and not wanting to reopen old wounds.

Their current reasoning for being in Evenfall is unknown but they know more about the current murders that they're letting on. Rowan seems to also have knowledge of MC’s visions and where the power originates.

Rowan is the hardest to love, but quickest to hate, the devout purposely being a rather unbearable person to avoid having close friendships and relationships. Rowan avoids relations of any sort like the plague.

And since they are going to be announced soon as their character art is done, Eden and Sonja! The lovely ladies of Evenfall.

Sonja

Sonja is part of the Evenfall Guards, having worked up the ranks to be the Guard Captain's right-hand woman. She’s also the only non-human guard in Evenfall, not to mention the only competent guard to believe the MC about everything going on. How a woman like her ends up a guard in a town like Evenfall, well, you’ll have to wait till she opens up for that story.

It’s hard to tell what exactly Sonja’s height is, she has terrible posture outside of fighting, but she’s estimated to be around 7’0 or taller. This officially makes her the tallest RO! She will use height to her advantage.

Sonja is a big drinker and a regular at The Wolf Den, but no one has seen the devil intoxicated… When not there, Sonja can usually be found training recruits, patrolling the streets or doing paperwork at the library (it’s more quiet then the guard quarters).

Remember how I said she uses her height to her advantage? That’s in many scenarios… I won’t say she’s not a tough lady to romance, I’ll just say when she does fall (very hard I might add), MC better not be within range of walls or benches… or any surface Sonja can lift them on/against.

Eden

Eden is the owner of the local library ‘Serpent’s Tale’ and a single mother to her young daughter, Fern. Eden doesn’t go out much because of her family and work, but she does share a unique friendship with Ashborn and Sonja, being the only one who can make them get along.

Everyone in Evenfall loves Eden for her kind and caring nature, most not expecting her to be a Gorgon, a creature known for harming humans and turning them to stone with a single gaze. Eden is very careful though and keeps her human form up to protect everyone. Luckily, Fern is too young to use such magic yet, but she can’t create a human facade either.

The best part about Eden is that she’s the healthiest option for romance. She’s just very confident in the sense of how she wants to be treated and how she should treat her partner. Eden is just the sweetest woman and I’d say the only one who doesn’t have an incredibly slow start. When she cares and loves, she knows right away and isn’t going to waste time being coy about it.

All the snakes on her head have their own unique personality and are named, which becomes a little confusing for her when they tangle together during her sleep.

Eden loves dancing and music with a passion but often finds she can’t attend festivals or livelier nights at The Wolf Den due to running the library.

Crowley

Lastly and obviously, Crowley! I love how some seem to want to know about him. Crow’s winning hearts he doesn’t deserve…

Crowley is the eldest of three siblings; Vivian, Carmilla and Roth. All of which he cares about dearly, even if one of them is a bit of a psychopath.

A fact not many know (unless they look far back in my post) is that Crowley is royalty, he simply avoids his duties because ruling a country that shuns what you truly are isn’t his thing and he has a bad relationship with both his mothers. One of them wasn’t the kindest to her kids in the beginning and the other simply did nothing to help or defend them. Love can make you weak. Despite the rough beginnings, Crowley’s a pretty big softy.

The cigarettes he smokes are just herbal and get their red colour from being marinated in human blood. It helps calm him down and keep his hunger under control. His thirst is beyond that of a normal vampire.

Crowley holds important information about what might be happening in Evenfall.

I feel like I’ve revealed too much but at the same time nothing at all… I’ll happily do more if anyone asks! I love writing about the gang and how they act and what they like. Maybe if I can find an OC ask post to reshare or something? I never know where to look for these things pfffft.

#ask #evenfall grove if #romance option #constantin #heka set #ashborn mehra #eden gail #rowan #sonja #crowley volkov

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talentforlying · 1 year ago

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"Hey baby, are you the first card in the tarot deck because you got me actin' like a fool." Mulder strikes a pose, before spinning around and trying another pick up line.

"What's up, hot stuff? Can you feel the magic? I'm about to cast a spell on you." Another pose. This time he finds a chair near John to lean against. Wait are those sunglasses?

"Did you know that Venus is in conjunction with Uranus?" Mulder stop-

' oh christ. '

he's trying not to give mulder the satisfaction of a laugh. he's doing his bloody best, here. but exasperation and the dread of knowing this will go on for as long as mulder has air to draw breath are rapidly giving ground under the onslaught, and his lips are twitching behind the protective guard of his hand.

' really. seriously. whole bleedin' world of beatles-flavored pick-up lines available an' you go with the magic. could i pay you t'shut up? at least take yer shirt off f'you're gonna give us a show. ' his smile is all but audible, crinkling the corners of his eyes and tugging on every syllable. stupid, this is stupid. he's always been soft for stupid. one of the files he's been slogging through becomes handy ammunition, balled up and lobbed with shocking accuracy to bounce off mulder's chest. ' eugh! sunglasses indoors, you pillock. '

his revenge is timed out carefully, planned without a hint of mischief on his face: he hooks the tip of his shoe around the nearest leg of the chair mulder's leaning on and yanks it askew, hopping out of his seat to catch mulder around the waist before he can fall — only to promptly step on the back of his heel and make sure he falls. the resulting dip is entirely too graceful for a bit of spur-of-the-moment fuckery, and constantine is smirking as he swipes the sunglasses, holding them up to his face and peering down at mulder through the lenses.

' did it 'urt when you fell from your alien spaceship? ' head tilted to the side, innocent, almost genuinely concerned. then his supporting hand releases and: WHOOMF. dropped to the carpet. should be okay, though — mulder's used to falling for him by now. constantine sits back on the nearest desk, the very picture of an unconcerned bystander, twirling his prize between his fingers and snickering. ' not as much as that, i 'spect. '

@spookyagentfmulder

#spookyagentfmulder #THIS WAS SO CUTE I'M SORRY ABOUT HIM #me looking at our other threads where he's being prickly when mulder's just trying to help: THEY GET SOMETHING NICE. AS A TREAT #constantine about to suplex mulder: since when #( V. ) THE RISING DARKNESS. ( ii. )#( answered. ) THIS IS JOHN CONSTANTINE. FUCK OFF.

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wiedzmacienia · 1 year ago

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Would you rather keep living forever, or switch places with someone else and succumb at a normal life span?

so while i think this wasn't geared toward modern katarzyna, modern katarzyna is who you shall get for reasons. | would you rather meme responses

katarzyna isn't at headquarters often these days for her team largely operates on missions outside of the normal routines of the knights-- no they were called agents now-- which division held within it's ranks. she distances herself usually, so many more human faces in the modern age. it was the embodiment of what she'd fought so hard for lifetimes ago, cooperation. protection of her people, humans and supernaturals working together. supporting each other. she should engulf herself into it yet she can't. the witch is far from the person she had once been, too jaded, too hurt, and lost to the darkness that creeped into her bones. sometimes it was a wonder she hadn't given herself completely over to it, let herself fall into dark magic if it meant more power to defeat her foes. perhaps it's the only thing still left of the girl she'd been once before. a girl capable of loving, of gentleness, of caring instead of the hollowness that she felt inside the moment she'd woken up in her brothers arms with a brand burned into her back and poison in her veins.

katarzyna and the agents aside from her team did not mix well.

her indifference toward those labeled as colleterial damage (in most cases) made them uncomfortable. not that they too wouldn't have to make some of the same decisions (though they did operate under less extreme operations than her team did) but katarzyna no longer looked for work arounds on missions, no longer worried about those who might be innocent if they'd seen things they could not be allowed to go into the world with the knowledge of as long as the mission was done and the larger threat defeated. sometimes, when she tackles the drive to connecticut she lets her mind drift back to the past and imagines blue hues of disappointment looking upon her. (@honorhearted) but that was a face she would never see again. a touch she would never know again. and it's the wake of it's loss and the loss of the hope that person had inspired in her that had allowed her to dare to trust another that all traces of it had been overridden by the pain that had been unleashed upon her and seared into her skin. she couldn't recall that gentleness anymore, couldn't bare to think on it too long either. she was the product of what the world had made of her. so no, she was not one for missions with green agents often.

would you rather keep living forever, or switch places with someone else and succumb at a normal life span?

yet here she was, sitting across from one who was too curious for his own good. who was too bright and too awed for the world that was going to be thrust onto the human. acceptance of the supernatural was fine, even seemed more potent of a concept these days but the world they operated in was not for dreamers. they did the things others could not, so that they never would have to. this mission was going to either see the man sink or swim and if the former it sure as hell better not hinder the mission's goal.

the blonde witch is tempted to get up and relocate, leave the agent hanging on their question and review mission details. god, if she was going to be stuck with a human on a mission with so many variables in play she'd much rather it be elijah (@everythingheard). she knew he was capable even if he wasn't often in the field and he'd actually earned her trust in a way that few often were able to in the last century. hell, she'd even be willing to team up with constantine, at least he didn't hold the same qualms she could see springing up with this green agent. she doesn't leave though, her greenish-blue hues moving up to meet the agent's gaze and her allowing the briefest flash of memories... a smile, children laughing, two humans and a witch squeezing into a bed, an argument, a kiss... to play upon her mind. just for a moment, a moment that ceases her breath until she finally releases a shaky sigh.

"it is not that simple. i can't just trade places and if you're going to be in this line of work you need to understand that rarely is anything simple. but-- there was a time long ago when i would have given anything for that." when she would have given anything to be able to grow old along with the person she loved, to have been able to die with them, to have been able to give them more than twins.. but dreams didn't have a place in this world. not for people like her. "but i grew up and saw the world we live in. would i give up my immorality and trade places with someone else now? no. what good would that do if not to take out an experienced warrior for division's goals?" maybe in another life, she would have. a life she had something to give it up for. a life filled with love in the wake of war. a life that had finally given her peace for a while. but that wasn't her reality anymore and it never would be again. and it wasn't a life that the woman she had become deserved anyway.

"enough of such talk. tell me, how many ways do you know how to vanquish a wrath? your life may depend on it."

#honorhearted #everythingheard #tagged for mention #meme answers;#answered asks;#v; main #time period; modern #sorry this took so long to answer!

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seiya-starsniper · 2 years ago

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and if I get burned, at least we were electrified - Chapter 3

Link on AO3 [here]

Chapter Summary: Time for a Dreamling reunion! And a guest appearance by Johanna, because I love her to pieces, and someone needs to keep Hob in check while The Corinthian is away.

The Corinthian has been gone for almost a year.

Hob had taken a week off work after the blond had left to process. He hadn't been able to stay in his flat that whole week, opting instead to crash at Johanna’s. Everything in the flat reminded him of The Corinthian, who hadn't even bothered to pack a bag, just vanished into thin air. Johanna had forced him to start categorizing all her magical artifacts after two days, and Hob was all too happy to have something to take his mind off things.

Afterwards, between travel shutdowns, his university absolutely falling to madness trying to transition to online, and an uptick in supernatural activity (pandemics don’t stop supernatural beings, who knew) so vast that Johanna had asked for his help on a few jobs, Hob hadn’t been able to even go look for The Corinthian even though he had a very good idea of where he was. Or well, at least, what country he was in.

Hob had tried calling, texting, hell he even rang up the witch coven in Edmonton asking if they knew a summoning spell to get him to come back, all to no avail. Johanna didn’t know anything either. She had never even heard of a nightmare walking around the earth prior to The Corinthian.

“You know mate,” Johanna says now, sympathetic, over their fourth round of drinks. She’d practically had to drag him out of the flat tonight. “I hate to say I told you so but…” she doesn’t finish her sentence. Hob knows what she means. Johanna had not reacted kindly to Hob moving The Corinthian into his flat. She’d cursed him and called him every name under the sun and had told him she wouldn’t come to an idiot’s funeral. She'd said the relationship wouldn't last a year before The Corinthian would get bored, gut him, and leave him.

She had come around, Hob remembered. Eventually. Reluctantly.

Two years after The Corinthian had moved into his flat, Hob and the blond had been tracking a suspected child serial killer. It hadn’t taken long for them to locate the killer’s hiding spot in an old crumbling castle, and on the night they moved to confront him, Hob had been surprised to run into Johanna right outside.

"What the hell, get the fuck off my turf mate," Johanna had said when she spotted them.

The Corinthian growled in response, and Hob heard it come through all three mouths, which meant he really didn’t like her and that complicated matters.

“Johanna, lovely to see you as always, mind filling me in on why you're here?” Hob asked, trying to lighten the situation.

“Why are you here, I thought the bastard only ate human eyes-,”

“Oh, I like any and all types of eyes, in fact I'll bet the eyes of a Constantine would taste divine,” The Corinthian responded and Hob knew enough about the Corinthian to recognize he was trying discreetly to reach for the knife in his jacket. He stuck out his hand to stop him.

“Ok whoa whoa, Cory, first off, no, Johanna's off limits, not only is she not a criminal, she's also my friend ,” Hob said, gripping the Corinthian’s wrist to show he was serious.

“Your friend who taught you how to blow me up too, if I recall,” The Corinthian noted, a sour tone in his voice, but he didn’t struggle so Hob took that as a good sign.

“Yeah, pity none of it stuck.” Johanna retorted.

“I'll make your death stick you fucking-”

“All right, all right, you're both super scary, that's great,” Hob interrupted before they could get fully off topic with their juvenile antics. “Now, Johanna, there is a child in there that I have been asked to retrieve. His mum's worried sick and the Yard is just spinning their wheels. As much as I'm glad to see you, you being here worries me. Could you tell me why?”

Johanna had softened instantly, then looked utterly miserable at the news.

“The thing in there's an ogre. I'm sorry Hob, I don't think the kid's still alive,” she said sadly.

The reveal broke Hob's heart. Still, he didn't want to give up hope.

“Let us come in with you then," he'd said. Johanna gave them an offended look at the idea she might need help.

"I know, I know." Hob continued. "You're a big girl and you've been doing this for a while, but Cory and I aren't fragile, far from it, so there’s no need to worry about us, even if we do get hurt. Plus, I want to at least find something, if only to bring closure to his mum.” Hob pleaded. He really did not want to return to the woman empty-handed. Johanna looked like she wanted to argue, then decided against it and after a quick rundown, the three of them went inside together.

The resulting fight had been messy. Turns out, there was a whole family of ogres in the crumbling castle. Johanna had been able to take down two before the third had broken her right hand. Hob and The Corinthian had disemboweled it thoroughly in revenge.

In the end, Johanna was right, there was no living child in the castle that they could find, only scattered bones and discarded clothes. Hob would have to break the bad news to the distraught mother. He did manage to locate a jacket that matched the one of the photographs the woman had given him. Proof that her child had been here and gone. There was no need to look for anything else.

The Corinthian easily sensed the dour mood between Johanna and Hob, and had gone off to go eat the three pairs of ogre eyes in private once he’d separated them from their owners.

He’d come back a short time later in a considerably brighter mood, which Hob found a bit inappropriate, but he reminded himself that The Corinthian was who he was, and he’d probably had a good meal, so at least there was that. They'd have a talk about proper human passing behavior later.

“I know where a whole lot of other ogres are!” The Corinthian bragged. "And a whole lot of children, who are very much, Not Dead. ” Hob could practically hear the capital letters in the blond’s voice, and he raised his head so fast he was pretty sure he gave himself whiplash. He swore he heard Johanna let out a surprised gasp.

Well. The Corinthian now had their full attention.

“Also, I forgot how delicious non-human eyes are, I’ve changed my mind, we should absolutely meet like this more often, Constantine, I would love to get some Fey eyes next time.” The Corinthian continued. “In fact-”

"Cory, where are the damn children?" Hob snarled. The Corinthian's returning feral grin meant he was playing coy on purpose.

"Oh, there’s a hidden dungeon right downstairs.” The blonde shrugged, as if the news didn’t change absolutely everything about the night. “About 30 or so of them. Apparently there’s going to be some sort of family reunion in the next couple of days, so all those kidnappings were prep work for the big feast!" The Corinthian spread his arms wide for emphasis.

"But you know how ogres are, they like their food fresh so they’ve been trying to plump up the kids with all sorts of garbage to make ‘em taste sweeter."

“So wait, what you’re saying is-” Hob’s hope is so fragile, but could it be? They didn’t know how many children had been taken, but thirty was quite a lot, so maybe-

"Well, there were definitely some children who were eaten the last few days, just as snacks, mostly homeless orphans, but the one we were looking for is right downstairs Hob!" The Corinthian then turned to Johanna and gave her a conspiratorial grin. "And the rest of the ogres have no idea their hosts are dead so…"

Johanna’s answering devilish grin once she realized the implications had fit right at home with The Corinthian’s. They looked like a pair of naughty children who'd just gotten away with stealing sweets under the adult's noses. Johanna would receive a massive payment for taking out an entire orge's nest and Hob would be able to reunite a single mother with her only child.

"You've got a little something on your face, love," Hob said later, once they’d left the castle and arranged for the kids to be picked up. He leaned in to swipe the fluid from the blond's face but as soon as he began pulling his hand away, The Corinthian took it instead and licked up Hob’s fingers as if he were licking the blood off one of his own knives. Slowly. With intent. He stared right into Hob’s eyes while doing it too.

"You two are disgusting! " Johanna had yelled before storming off. Hob would’ve thought to chase after her to at least say goodbye, or try to coordinate getting rid of the rest of the ogre nest, but his brain had short-circuited entirely.

He had never driven home so fast before. The Corinthian had distracted him the whole 25 minute drive.

Hob’s immediately snapped out of his reverie and back to the present by Johanna,“Penny for your thoughts?”

“Just thinking about the ogre nest,” Hob answers. No need to elaborate past that. Certainly no need to tell Johanna the details of what happened afterwards.

Johanna grimaces like it's a bad memory. It probably was. Even with the happy surprise of finding all those children alive, her hand had taken at least a month to heal.

“Why are you thinking about- oh you fucking sop. Disgusting, the both of you were that night.” Johanna downs the rest of her beer.

“Look I know the eyeball munching thing takes a bit to get used to but-”

“I wasn't talking about that, although honestly, the eyeball thing is not erotic no matter how many times you try to explain it, you're just a freak.” Johanna interrupts.

“What was so disgusting then?” Hob asks, curious. He knows his tastes have always been, perhaps, on the other side of eclectic, especially in the last century, but Johanna has had plenty of non-human dalliances herself, he’d have thought she’d have been more open minded about things. “He made sure he was out of sight when he ate all their eyes, when we thought all those kids were dead. The epitome of politeness, if you ask me.”

“You really don't know? God the thing doesn't even have eyes-”

“He's not a thing Johanna-”

“But anyone could tell he was so far gone for you, it was nauseating. He looked at you like you were the only thing worth looking at in the whole damn universe. And you were doing the exact same thing back at him. Like a goddamn romance novel from Hell.”

As much as she's insulting him, Hob knows she's also trying to reassure him. He's thought about their last night nonstop, turning it over and over in his head. He still doesn’t have any answers for why the blonde left the way he did.

“I just don't know why he left,” Hob groans, frustrated with the line of thought. “Especially after I gave-” Hob stops suddenly, realizing he hasn’t told Johanna what happened that night. He wasn't ready for her judgment on his actions back then, and he’s not sure he’s ready now, but it may be too late to back out now.

“…after you what Hob?” Yep, no backing out now. She’d been trying to get this story out of him for a while, and now that he thinks about it, the drinks were probably a means to multiple ends.

“Well I mean….we had this job go terribly pear shaped,” Hob starts, praying that he can focus on the minutiae of the botched job and get Johanna lost in the details.

“ What. Did. You. Do . Hob?” No chance of bullshitting his way out of the conversation now.

“I lost an eye, all right!” Hob admits. “And you know I can grow those things back like grapes, and the eye was still perfectly intact so I just thought…”

“You gave him YOUR EYE?” Johanna practically yells. Well now the whole bar is staring at them, and Hob can tell a few of them are checking to see if he still has both eyes. He really should have just insisted on taking her to the private back room he’d built for his business meetings, but Johanna just plopped down at the bar when they’d come downstairs, wanting to be as close to the beer taps as possible.

“I didn’t want it to go to waste!” Hob frantically tries to whisper, then tries and fails to put his hand over Johanna's mouth.

Johanna looks heavenward, as if that will somehow provide answers. Or a pity smiting to escape this conversation, Hob's not entirely sure.

Finally, she sighs.

“Look…” she tries. “Maybe he just got overwhelmed. Has to process things alone before he can come back. You've got a whole lot of memories in that noggin of yours, and he probably got spooked by something,” but Hob knows neither of them believe it. Still.

“It felt like a final goodbye, but you're not wrong,” Hob concedes. “I don't know what he saw, but whatever it was definitely spooked him. I wish he would've just asked me instead of running off. I couldn’t even go after him with all the shutdowns happening right after, and he still won’t pick up my calls. I'd be off there chasing him down now if I could take the time off from classes.”

There's silence for a beat. Then, "S'not just the job keeping you here though, innit?" Johanna slurs.

“What do you mean?”

“Your Stranger. The one who gave you all this,” she gestures at him. “You're still waiting for him, aren't you? It's why you won't leave the UK for anything, travel restrictions be damned. You could do video lectures from anywhere now too, but you’re here waiting for a man who you’re not even sure still wants to see you.”

“Hey now, that’s not fair, I still have other duties to attend to here too! Plus I wouldn’t even know where to start looking for Cory,” Hob tries to defend himself.

“Yeah, but that's not the point��, Hob. The point is you're waiting on some guy to show up to this pub and maybe you stopped waiting every week with your blond man around but now that he’s gone and left you, you're right back at it waiting for a different man who left you like a lovesick fool.” She points at him. “You, my friend, have got a problem. ”

Hob downs the rest of his whiskey instead of answering.

—

When Hob heads upstairs to his flat, warmed from both the whiskey and Johanna's company, he runs his fingers over the sigil The Corinthian had carved into his bed shortly after he'd begun living with Hob. He smiles ruefully at the memory. It was the first time The Corinthian had opened up to him about what kind of supernatural entity he was.

Hob had spent the better part of the last century living with either restless, dreamless sleep, or with nightmares that shook him so much he'd wake up screaming. It had been a long time since he'd had any other type of dream. His condition started around the time the Sleepy Sickness started, and Hob had been glad he hadn’t fallen prey to some of the more severe conditions, such as no sleep at all, or a perpetual sleep. Hob had made it a habit to avoid doctors and it would’ve been rather hard to explain himself not aging while in either of those states.

It didn’t take long after moving in for The Corinthian to offer up his services to alleviate Hob of his troubles. Turns out, the Quora article was right after all.

"So, what, you're a nightmare and doing this will help stop me having bad dreams?" Hob had asked as he watched The Corinthian inspect his bed for the perfect spot to carve.

"It'll keep the others of my kind away, yes. I haven't been back in an age, but I know most of the other nightmares have gone absolutely feral in our creator's absence.” The Corinthian grinned, as if the knowledge greatly pleased him. It probably did.

“The creator who tried to kill you? The one who went missing, and that’s why we have the Sleepy Sickness?” Hob asked and The Corinthian nodded.

“The one and only. I’m sure the realm’s a bit of a mess, but the other nightmares should still leave you alone once I put my mark here, if they know what's good for them." Hob swears The Corinthian’s grin grew even more feral.

"And what exactly is this mark?" Hob tapped at the symbol The Corinthian had put on paper to show him what he’d be carving. “A protection spell of some kind?”

"It's my name,” The Corinthian replied. “My true name, from when I was first born into existence. It means that I’ve claimed you as my dreamer, and you’re mine."

Hob's breath stuttered in his lungs. He'd wondered if The Corinthian could tell the effect the sentence had on him. It was the closest the blond had come so far to saying what Hob meant to him. Hob already knew at that point that he was falling for the nightmare, and this certainly wasn’t helping his case.

"Go on then," he said, possibly a little (a lot) more breathily than he meant to. "Carve your name into my bedpost. Show everyone that I'm yours."

The Corinthian had also cut his name into Hob’s chest, right beneath his collarbone (for extra insurance, he said) later that night, right after he had sunk his hips down onto Hob’s cock. The twin sensations of pain and pleasure had nearly driven him over the edge, and Hob had needed to grab the base of himself to stop himself from coming too early. The Corinthian, little shit that he was, took that as a challenge.

The wound had healed of course, but Hob still feels the mark there, like a ghost. He had kept the paper drawing in a folder too, because he was sentimental. He wonders, not for the first time, if he’s able to be tattooed, but he’d always been too afraid to go into a shop in the event the tattoo doesn’t take with the way his skin heals, and he’d have to explain himself. For now, the mark on his bed will have to do.

The nightmares stopped entirely after that night. Hob's still not sure how exactly the whole naming, claiming, thing works, but he's started praying to it at night, wishing for The Corinthian to stay safe wherever he was, but mostly wishing he would just come home.

–

Almost two years after The Corinthian leaves, The Stranger walks into The New Inn and stands in front of Hob's table.

It's the first time in a long time Hob forgets about The Corinthian. All he can do is stare at the ethereal being in front of him and think finally.

"You're late," Hob says, and realizes he's smiling. It's been so long since he last smiled genuinely that it feels both foreign and comforting at once.

What he doesn’t expect next is to see his own smile returned. Even if he had the most expensive and high quality camera known to man on hand, Hob doesn’t think any piece of mere human technology could capture the brilliance.

“It seems I owe you an apology,” his Stranger says. “I've always heard it impolite to keep one's friends waiting.”

Friends. His Stranger had called him his friend. He's acknowledged their bond, their companionship. Maybe a little bit later than Hob had been hoping for, but it was worth the wait. His friend was worth all the time in the world.

Hob’s centennial companion pulls out the chair in front of the table and sits down across from him. He hasn’t stopped smiling. Neither has Hob.

Time passes like that for a while. It’s not awkward, there’s no tension, just pure contentment to look at each other for the first time in 133 years. If Hob didn’t know any better, he’d think he’d think he’d died without his knowledge and gone to heaven.

“Hi dear, can I get you anything?” The waitress’s sunny question shakes them both out of their trance.

“Anything my friend wants, my treat Anna,” Hob says before the other man can answer.

“I thank you, Hob,” his friend answers then turns to Anna, his smile more muted now, but not any less dazzling. “A glass of dry red wine please, the oldest vintage you have available.”

“You and your wine.” Hob laughs when Anna leaves. He recalls that wine, usually a red, would be the only thing his friend would ever order at their meetings. Some things just never changed.

“It is, admittedly, one of my favorite inventions by humans,” the dark haired man replies, then purses his lips. “And I have been without it for quite some time.”

“Have you now?” Hob asks, sensing a story. “Well then, you can have all the red wine we have here, I don’t mind.”

“We?”

��Ah yeah, this place, The New Inn? It’s mine.” Hob admits. “I don’t really get too involved in the operations side of things anymore, but I tend the bar from time to time when there’s no classes. I know you probably saw, but the old White Horse was going to be turned into flats by some reprehensible folks, and I’ve had enough wealth accumulated over the years that I was able to stop the whole operation in its tracks. Couldn’t keep the damn place open though, so I decided to build on the land right by it instead.”

“You…built a pub? So that we could continue to have a place to meet?” The other man asks, astonished.

“Of course! Isn’t that what friends are for?” Hob replies. He really hopes he hadn’t read the whole thing wrong and his friend doesn’t walk out on him again for presuming things. It’s only now just occurring to Hob that building an entire pub for someone, even a not entirely human entity, is a bit much.

Of all the reactions the Stranger could have had though, the absolute last one Hob expects is tears.

“Even after I was forced to miss our last meeting. Without knowing if I had abandoned you or not, you still kept your faith in me? Enough that you built a place so that I may take sanctuary after my imprisonment?” The Stranger's voice is filled with unbridled emotion as more tears freely spill down his cheeks.

Imprisonment? Well now. Hob has a whole lot of questions, but first and foremost, he had a friend to comfort. He reaches across the table and takes the man’s hand in his own. Squeezes it for good measure. It’s the first time they’ve ever touched in 700 years and it feels electric , more so when his friend begins to run a hesitant thumb along his.

“My friend,” Hob says after a brief silence. “I would build you thousands of sanctuaries across the world, no, across the entire universe, if I meant that I could meet you at each one and offer you a place to rest.”

Hob decides to take a chance. To be bold. He’s already gotten more than he could have ever hoped for, what’s one more risk?

He reaches over with his other hand to wipe the tears from his friend’s face. The other man looks shocked, as if he hadn’t realized he were crying. No, more like he had forgotten. What had filled his friend so full of grief for so long that he could no longer comprehend his own tears?

“I know it’s customary for me to update you on everything I’ve been up to in the last hundred years.” Hob says. “But I think I’d like to know what’s happened to you instead, if you’re willing to tell me. However much or little,” he adds, reassuringly.

His friend is quiet for a long time, expression contemplative. Anna comes back with the wine, raises her eyebrows, but blessedly, does not mention the emotional moment fraught between them.

“I’ll come back with the rest of the bottle in a little bit, just holler when you’d like it, all right?” she says and in a flash she’s gone, leaving them to their privacy.

The Stranger still hasn’t let go of his hand, and does not appear to want to. He instead uses his free hand to pick up the glass Anna had left so he can sip at his wine. After a few minutes, he sighs and begins to speak.

“Do you remember, in 1789, when we had spoken about how beings such as us could be hurt, or captured?” the Stranger asks solemnly.

Hob remembers. He nods and squeezes their hands together, prompting the man to continue.

“In 1916, a man named Roderick Burgess had sought to capture my sister, Death, in an attempt to resurrect his son lost in battle.” the Stranger says. “His spell entrapped me instead. He then used more magic to bind me within the basement of his estate, and I lay there for more than 100 years. Roderick demanded many things from me, his son alive again, riches, immortality, all of which were not things that I could give, nor would I have wanted to, if I could.”

There is so much in that first bit that Hob doesn’t know where to start. He goes with the most pressing question he has.

“But I thought Roderick died in the 1930s! Why couldn’t you escape then?” Hob remembers now, with a sinking feeling, that there were plenty of rumors about Roderick Burgess having trapped the Devil in his basement. He wishes he’d looked into it more, wishes he could’ve found his friend earlier and broken him out of that awful prison.

“Roderick did die, in 1926 actually, and his son had offered me freedom, if only I would not hurt him and his lover in revenge for my capture.” his friend confirms. “The son was young when his father took me, but he was nearly an adult when he murdered my raven companion, Jessamy, on the order of his father. I could not forgive him for that." His Stranger now grips Hob's hand at the memory, pained anger crossing his face. Hob wants to wipe away that expression too.

"My anger and pride kept me imprisoned for an additional 96 years, until finally, in their old age and near death, his paramour took pity on me and broke the enchantment imprisoning me.”

“Jesus Christ,” Hob breathes. “Was there no one you could call to for help? What about your sister, did she know you were trapped?” There is absolutely no way someone could defy Death of all things, especially if someone trapped her own brother. Hob makes a mental note to ask about the whole family tree later.

“My siblings all knew of my capture, and yet none of us are allowed to intervene in each other's affairs, unless asked. It is another thing my pride has cost me. I need only ask their help and any one of them would have come for me. Instead, I chose silence.”

“But that’s not fair! I know you’re not human and so you have different rules than me, but amongst us humans, we give help to our families even when it’s not asked for! Sometimes, especially when it’s not asked!” Hob argues.

“It is the way of the Endless, Hob.” the Stranger says with a finality that tells Hob the subject is closed. Hob wants to continue to press, but he asks instead,

“Endless, so that’s what you are then?”

“Yes. There are seven of us in total. And I must apologize once again for keeping you waiting on another thing for the last few hundred years. My name.”

Hob feels his heart stutter in his chest.

“I have been called many things over the years. My most recent name in human tongues has been Morpheus.”

Morpheus. It's a regal sounding name, fit for a king. Hob’s just getting used to the idea of it in his head when Morpheus speaks again.

“But as my friend, you may call me by my truest name, Dream.”

Dream. What a beautiful name. All of his names are beautiful, Hob imagines, and he’d like to learn them all.

“Well, Dream, my friend, can I buy you a drink and a meal then?” Hob asks, squeezing their hands together again. “I'll catch you up on all that you've missed.”

“I would be happy with anything you are willing to offer me, my friend,” Dream replies.

–

They get the rest of the wine, and Hob some food. Dream does not order anything for himself, content to partake in whatever Hob is willing to share, which is everything. He unfortunately has to relinquish his hand from Dream’s to eat, but they freely reach for one another when the moments allow. It is far from the regal meal he had offered to his friend in 1589, and yet, Hob thinks it tastes better.

Hob is now telling Dream stories about the last hundred years. It’s been quite possibly the most interesting century he’s lived through so far.

He shies away from anything related to The Corinthian. Hob had been a mercenary in his past life, killing for other people's money, so he knows Dream won't judge him, may even commend him for trying to do some good for people who slip through the flawed justice system. But explaining Cory is a story all on its own, and the memories are still too fresh and painful, especially with how things were left off (Hob still refuses to admit they've ended). Still, the blond was such an integral part of life in the last ten, no, twelve years . Hob is still counting the two years The Corinthian has been gone.

“Hob?” Dream’s voice snaps him out of his self-pity inner monologue. Hob forgot what he had been talking about, but he knows he needs to get back to more light hearted topics before he ends up crying at the table himself.

“Sorry about that, don't know what came over me!”

“You've become melancholy despite describing a happy memory,” Dream observes.

“Ah yeah, well.” Hob decides to open up, just a little. "I went through a break up not too long ago. Well it's been almost two years now, but we were together almost ten years before that." It's not much, but even admitting that The Corinthian left him out loud to someone else feels like tearing open a not yet healed scar.

“Ten years is not an insignificant amount of time, especially for mortals. It is understandable why you would be distraught,” Dream says. This time, it is the Endless who squeezes Hob's hand in reassurance.

“Yeah, I still miss him too." Hob says. “Didn't even get a proper goodbye, one day everything's perfect and then he just up and left.” He tries not to choke on those last few words, but it's more difficult than he'd like to admit.

“Him?” Dream asks. Right, Hob's only ever had female partners to speak of whenever they met once a century.

“Oh yeah, another fun 20th century thing I discovered, turns out I'm bisexual!” Hob declared proudly.

It really hadn't been that much of a discovery, nor had it come in the 20th century. Rather, it had been in 1789 when Hob had realized he may have inappropriate feelings for the man sitting across the table from him.

He had tried to gently bring up the topic in 1889, prefacing things with friendship first so as not to alarm his companion, but Dream had reacted so poorly to being regarded as a friend that Hob hadn't even gotten the chance to be romantically rejected.

And then Dream hadn't shown up in 1989 and had broken Hob's heart.

Hob is glad to know Dream didn’t abandon him on purpose, and he’s even more glad he waited for him and built them a new place to meet. But his heart is still too raw to even think about trying to start something with Dream, not when he's just gotten him back, not when his heart still belongs somewhere in America.

“But enough about me and my poor broken heart, let me tell you about the internet!”

Dream looks like he wants to press, but instead gracefully accepts the subject change and allows Hob to enlighten him about YouTube, memes, and Netflix.

–

At some point in the night, Hob catches sight of a breaking story on BBC, on one of the pub’s televisions. A British tourist had been found on a beach in Florida. His eyes are missing. The story then goes into the mysterious resurgence of killings by The Corinthian in the United States. It seems like there’s been a murder at least once a month, if not more, in the last two years.

Fucking hell Cory, what are you doing?, Hob thinks despairingly.

“What are you looking at?” Dream asks, curious.

“Terrible news mostly, sorry about that, I’m going to ask them to change the channel.” Hob says. He can’t stomach looking at this. Before he’s able to get up, though, Dream turns to look at the television screen behind him and his entire demeanor changes.

Hob feels as if all the air in the room has suddenly disappeared. If there were ever a reminder for the immortal that his oldest friend is not human, this is it.

"The Corinthian," he hisses, venom dripping on every syllable.

“Wait a minute, you know him?!” Hob asks, and his mind suddenly spins a thousand conclusions.

The Corinthian told Hob that he was a nightmare. His creator, the one who had tried to kill him, was a king, who presided over the realm of dreams and nightmares and he…

Hob suddenly has a flashback to ancient Greek history, the old poems, the name Morpheus…

Morpheus. Dream.

Dream is The Corinthian’s creator. The one who had tried to unmake him…in 1916…almost a hundred years ago.

Fuck.

Dream continues, unaware of Hob's panic. “The Corinthian is a wayward creation of mine. I was in the middle of unmaking him for some grievous crimes when I was captured by Roderick. I also have my suspicions that he provided advice to Roderick on how to keep me contained.”

Suspicions that Hob knows to be true. The Corinthian had told him once that he'd gone to visit his creator's captors to make sure he wouldn't get free. Hob feels wretched for not pushing The Corinthian more on who exactly his creator was but the blond had always been so cagey about his origins, and Hob had learned from his 1889 meeting with Dream not to push too many boundaries on supernatural entities. As far as he was concerned, The Corinthian was a survivor of a cruel, uncaring master and Hob was just glad to have him in his life. He's not sure how to reconcile the image The Corinthian painted of his creator with his centennial companion who certainly has a temper, but was anything but cold and unfeeling.

Dream stands suddenly, only barely managing to not knock his chair to the floor.

“I apologize, Hob, for cutting our time short, but I must reign him in before more are cut down by his selfishness.”

“Wait Drea-”

But Morpheus is already gone. It's so sudden, so familiar, that Hob realizes he's an idiot for not noticing it before.

Shit shit shit, Hob thinks.

He pulls out his phone and dials a number he still knows by heart despite not hearing from it in almost two years.

The number you have dialed has been disconnected. The operator automatically answers.

SHIT!

All Hob can do now is wait, and hope that his lover and his old friend don’t tear themselves apart. He’s not sure whose side he’d even choose.

#hobrinthian #sandman fic #the sandman fanfic #hob gadling #the corinthian #there's definitely still angst here but there's also some nice fluff sandwiched in between #enjoy #seiya writes #mystuff #seiya writes hobrinthian #seiya writes hobrintheus

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bongo-clash · 2 years ago

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Peacock Au Part 2

Okay so!!! Part two of this post about the DPxDC eldritch Danny fic that I'm now calling the peacock au lmao!!!!

(Chapter two of the fic under the cut) (Edit: You can now find part 3 Here!!!)

When the feeling of being just slightly dispersed settles onto the outer layer of his skin while he’s lying in bed, Danny knows what’s about to happen.

The thing is, he’s in his pyjamas. Sure, he could just stay in his human form for the summoning- because he’s done it before and it went fine- but he never knows who it’s going to be, and being spirited away to some college students’ dorm in his pyjamas is embarrassing. And sure, having something appear in the circle in the first place is probably enough that they’re not paying attention to what he’s wearing either way, but he refuses to bank on that. So, with a sigh, he allows himself the transformation, his human appearance falling easily away.

It always feels more natural to be a ghost during rituals, probably because they’re summoning a ghost and not a human, but still, it’s different. He feels that little bit looser, maybe even a little more himself, though he guesses being a bit more glow-y is just nice generally, and the space decals that tend pop up as part of his whole light-show-summons are a homely touch. On the other hand, it does make it harder to take stock of his surroundings when he finally fades into view wherever he is. He can make out vague grey walls and floors, but that’s about it.

Well, that and the man in front of him. Blond, taller than him if he wasn’t in the air, somewhere past his forties, wearing a beige trenchcoat and looking oddly terrified. Danny can see his hands shaking just a little. Does he know this guy from somewhere?

“Uh, dude?” Danny calls, going for something light. It’s annoying being dragged from the comfort of his own home, definitely, but this guy doesn’t look like some cult member, and if he’s alone and this scared it might mean he really needs the help. Danny can sympathise with doing stupid things in stupid situations. “You good? You’re not looking too hot there.”

He knows he’s using ghost speak, but it feels weird to use English in a summoning like this, and fortunately, Danny spies a translation sigil wrapped around the inner centre of the circle, so he knows it should be translating right back to the guy in front of him. Very handy for language barriers, he’ll admit- and it’s working, too, if the reply is any indication.

“I was told you could- you could help with the pits?”

His voice is gravelly, and he can’t tell if it’s because he’s nervous, doesn’t speak much, a smoker, or all three. Either way, probably not Danny’s business, and right now he’s just curious about what the man’s talking about. “Pits? That’s kinda vague, man. What pits?”

“The Lazarus pits to, uh, to be specific. There’s a huge one cropping up under Gotham that’s not supposed to be there, and the local- I mean, the locals are getting antsy about it. I… heard you could take care of ‘em.”

Lazarus Pits. He’s heard of those, Clockwork’s mentioned them a couple of times. They’re natural portals that open when enough energy is built up, and end up stabilising into the ground instead of collapsing to help seep ambient ectoplasm into the air. They don’t work as actual portals after that, but it’s vital to keep at least a few around no matter how corrupted they can get through human interference, because it keeps the balance of both realms steady. Having too many around isn’t a good thing, though, and especially not in populated areas. It can cause ecto-contamination, which is a lot more dangerous when you haven’t been around it since birth (or if you aren’t from Amity).

Speaking of which, it certainly is stinking up the place, now that he’s aware of it. Or maybe that’s just Gotham, he’s heard a lot about-

Hang on. Gotham. Weird potentially magic dude. He knew he recognised him! That’s John Constantine! Danny’s heard of John Constantine! Sam’s got her fingers in enough credible occult spaces that they’re at least vaguely aware of some of his endeavours, but if he’s in Gotham then that probably means he’s doing something for the Batman and, wow, Danny totally would’ve tried to go more professional for this if he knew this was going to be his first encounter with the Justice League,of all things.

Well, he guesses it’s too late now. At least the guy’s not being too weird about it or anything. “Man, yeah, I’ve totally got the smell stuck up my nose now that you mention it. Do you get that as well? Since, y’know, you’ve probably dealt with a couple ghosts.”

“Uh… no, I don’t think so. But can you fix it?”

Dang, the guy seems stressed about this. Maybe he just doesn’t like being in Gotham territory? He’s pretty sure he’s heard of Batman having a thing about magic. “Sure I can.”

“…Will you fix it?”

Danny figures that if they already know about his status through his Zone maintenance duties, and he’s going to be helping the Justice League, he might as well show off a little bit. Assenting with a hum and trying not to grin, he puts his hands to the floor, and lets his ectoplasm reach out to the source of the smell, sending a flash of light across the ground as it goes through. When it twinges back a response, he closes his eyes, and his energy curls around it, threading through like needles to seams, and pushes it shut with a gentle nudge. Luckily, it hadn’t been around for too long- barely fully formed and not even corrupted by human contact yet- it would’ve be a lot more difficult if it had.

He lets his hands rise up again after a long moment, looking to Constantine for a reaction. He can’t quite gauge what the man is thinking. “Alrighty, that should’ve done it.”

“Uh… cheers?”

He’s about to say something along the lines of ‘no problem’ or ‘you’re welcome’, but then he remembers he should probably warn him about the aftermath so he doesn’t freak. “The pit shouldn’t come back again, but just as like, a PSA: you might see more shades than usual hovering around for the next while. It shouldn’t be too big a deal so long as you leave ‘em alone, though, so don’t worry about it.”

For all that Danny’s trying to be considerate here, Constantine doesn’t look very considerated. “Can I- uh, yeah, great advice. ‘Appreciate it. But, can I ask just, y’know, what you are? Or not.”

“…Dude, what d’you think I am?”He replies, thoroughly bemused. Isn’t this guy supposed to be one of the League’s paranormal experts or something? He really should be able to recognise a ghost by now. “I keep your Lazarus Pits in check. You know, the pits of the dead?”

Okay, maybe a little rude on his side, but he thinks Constantine’s expression is a bit of an overreaction; he can see the sheen of sweat across the man’s forehead reflecting the light of the sigils. “Fair enough! Forget I asked- cheers for sorting out that pit, though. Uh, don’t suppose you’ll just let me go on my way or anything now.”

“Well, I mean, this was a favour for Batman, right?” He asks blithely, pointedly not paying attention to the way the man’s face keeps contorting. He swears Sam said he was more stoic than this. “I’m gonna go- ‘cause I’ve got things to do- but I guess if something comes up I’ll come to you? Or Batman, since this is his city and all. Don’t worry, I’ll let you know.”

Figuring there’s nothing left to be said, Danny lets the return sigil on the edge of the circle activate and punt him back home, wheezing a half-sigh and arching his back once the wispy image of wherever they’d been recedes. He probably looks exhausted after all that- no matter how recently formed the pit was, it still takes a little strain, and he’d just been about to sleep before he got summoned- but looking in the mirror on his wall for confirmation, he doesn’t find his usual face. Something twinges against where his spine should be, confirming its own previously unnoticed presence in the mortal plane.

…He didn’t go ghost when Constantine summoned him, he used his true form. That must be why he looked so nervous that whole time! And, man, ghostspeak never translates over quite right in this form, either- the Ancients use a different dialect to original ghostspeak- the man probably wasn’t hearing what Danny thought he was at all. What if the only reason he wasn’t attacking was because he was terrified? What must Constantine have thought of him?

Crap. He has to fix this. How is he going to find him?

#Peppered in some of my own worldbuilding about ectoplasm/the pits in DC there but Still-#I just thought it'd be Really Funny if Danny had absolutely no clue what he was saying was coming across so terrifying #Like- sure he Can say that kind of ominous stuff on his own- but I think it'd be really great #If no one knew when it was a translation error or if he meant it #If there's any mistakes in the please be kind I forget how to read when I'm editing-#Chapter 3's already done so I should be posting that either tomorrow or the day after!!#It'll pretty much be the conclusion to this whole thing but I've been talking to Bones and she's got So Many cool ideas #That I really want to make a part 4 for because they're really fun!!!#Either way this has been really nice to do!!!#dp au #danny phantom au #dp fic #danny phantom fanfiction #dpxdc #danny fenton #danny phantom #Bongo's Aus!!!#Bongo's Writing!!!#peacock au

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angelasscribbles · 2 years ago

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The Dark Prince

Series: Dark Elf

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: None yet

Rating: R

Warnings for this chapter: Dark themes, mature themes

Word Count: 850

A/N: This is from my list/wheel prompt asks.

This one was from @tessa-liam and is for Liam x Dark x Fall so she gets partial credit/blame for me launching a whole new series. (Maybe a miniseries, we'll see how it goes)

A/N 2: Special shoutout to @bebepac for letting me borrow the name Nicolai for one of Liam's middle names. It's one of my favorite names!

My other stuff: Master List.

The citizens of Cordonia viewed their younger prince with equal parts fascination and fear.

Liam Nicolai Ulysses Augustus Rys was striking in appearance. He had an almost otherworldly beauty and grace about him.

Some of the older, more superstitious, citizens swore he had an ethereal glow about him in the right lighting.

His pale complexion was no surprise. It was a family trait he shared with both his father and his older brother.

What set him apart from the rest of his family, and made for a striking contrast, was his raven black hair and eyes the color of coal.

No human has truly black eyes, just shades of brown so dark they appear black.

But then, Liam was not precisely human.

No one dared say it out loud, but the whispered rumors held that Constantine had been seduced by a mysterious raven haired woman that had shown up at court one day, bringing with her an influx of crows to the area.

They had carried on for months, right under his wife’s nose, until one day, she just vanished, taking the crows with her.

The gossip mill churned out stories ranging from the queen having her killed to her having thrown the king over for a younger man to Constantine sending her away in shame because she was pregnant.

One thing everyone did agree on was that Liam looked just like her, despite the story given out that the queen bore another son.

“She’ll never accept this child as her own!” The king protested.

“She will.” The woman said as she sprinkled a faintly glowing red powder into a pewter mug, “Make sure she drinks this, it will give her the false memory of pregnancy and birth. She will love him and raise him as her own. I would not leave him with you otherwise.”

“How can you abandon your own child?”

“Surely you know that I can’t keep him. He’s half human. He’ll never be accepted by my people, he’s better off here, with you, among your kind that don’t know his true nature.”

“You could stay here too!” Constantine pleaded, “I’ll divorce her, make you my queen!”

The raven haired beauty tipped her head back and laughed, “I have no desire to rule here in your realm. Now that my mother is ready to pass on the Corvid crown, I have my own kingdom to rule. I’ll miss you, my king.”

She tossed a glittery blue powder into the air, it swirled around her, becoming opaque.

“Eleanor!” He cried as he clutched the infant to his chest, “Wait!”

But it was too late, when the air cleared, she was gone.

No one knew for sure who the woman had been, but if you asked the oldest townspeople, those who had grown up in a time where magic was more open, more visible they would tell you she was Eleanor Gulduron, the crow queen, ruler of the dark elves.

Tonight, Liam stood on the raised dais at the front of the ballroom surveying the guests at the annual masquerade ball.

His brother was expected to pick a wife sometime within the next year. These little soirees were always well attended by hopeful young women eager to be queen.

It was the perfect cover for what he needed.

Liam had inherited longevity from his mother, he couldn’t die from old age or disease, but thanks to his human side he could still be killed by violence, and that just wouldn’t do.

He needed a spell, a dark one, that would make him impervious to injury, rendering him truly immortal. Like the rest of the elves.

He had spent the last two years studying dark magic, gathering supplies and preparing for the ritual that would grant him his wish. There was just one thing left that he needed and Maxwell Beaumont had procured it for him.

“Ah, Lord Beaumont! How kind of you to accept my invitation!”

“Your Majesty,” The younger Lord Beaumont gave a curt bow, “When my prince calls, I come.”

“I have a mission for you.”

He watched her from across the room as she moved gracefully and fluidly around the dance floor.

Riley Brooks.

The answer to his prayers.

It was late October, almost halfway between the autumnal equinox and the winter solstice.

The veil was thinning, the time of the wild hunt was quickly approaching, and the next full moon was his moment.

He had the chalice, he had the altar, he had the ceremonial blade, he had the sacred clearing in the woods behind the palace, he had all the components for the spell except the one that had to stay in its container until it was time for it to be spilled…

His eyes fell again on Riley as she giggled breathlessly at the edge of the dance floor with the lady from Shanghai, Hana Lee. The two women were chatting animatedly as they laughed, one of them completely oblivious to the danger she was in.

It was the entire reason she had been invited to the palace.

Her blood, he needed her blood.

#dark prince #dark romance #paranormal #gothic #angelasscribbles #trr fanfic #the royal romance #trr au #writblr #writers #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #dark elf

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lady-grace-pens · 2 years ago

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Even the Night Breaks: A WIP Intro

—

Pinterest Board | Spotify Playlist |

Genre:

New Adult | Contemporary Low Fantasy | Upmarket Fiction (probably)

Status:

Drafting

POV:

First person, present tense

CW:

Mental health is a large focus (depression), cursing, drinking, some smoking, some drug usage, and faint talk of religion (Christianity).

Themes and Tropes:

Mental Heath (as stated). The struggle of feeling lost, and not having a future. Vulnerability issues. A royal family who is very very dysfunctional, and vengeance (which are two completely unrelated things pssh totally). The once shattered bond of brothers being repaired. A found family of edgy early 20 somethings. Girlie with a dagger obsession. Polyamory (kind of.) Elemental magic and how it might battle with society and religion. Discovering and accepting what it’s like to truly, genuine love someone in a sense that far surpasses romance.

Vibes:

The faint smell of smoke and weed staining a shirt, covered up hastily by cheap cologne. A meticulously taken care of leather jacket. Nighttime, the rain, neon lights, and grins. Morning coffee and brunch. The woods. Autumn. A small town. Glares from strangers as you walk down the street. Nights at local bar, where you’ve spent so much time that you’ve befriended the owner. Late night talks. Heavy laughter. The pressing weight of the royal crown. A lonely apartment shrouded in darkness.

Setting:

A world like Earth, but what if people just randomly started getting born with elemental powers?

Plot:

For 20 year old Constantine Dodge, the eldest prince of Essledor, being king means death. Everything about it, from royal life itself, to the prospect of being the sole person responsible for the lives of millions of people. Above them all reigns the wretched idea of falling in line with his father, King Anon, either beloved or beloathed due to his handling of the Magikal Mutation Epidemic. Who knew forcing everyone who is suddenly developing elemental powers into arenas and making them fight each other to death under the guise of “scientific research” would be a controversial decision?

Simple to say, Constantine is far more content living with his best friends, Blake and Rebekah, in the little town of Dunsbrew. As much as he tries to shoulder his burdens alone, no card game, no woman’s bed, no bottle of alcohol can cleanse him from the topic of his questionable future, if he even has one. That fact becomes much more apparent when looking at his younger brother Teddy, who pines for the throne and flings himself into the role of prince, at the expense of a healthy relationship with his brother.

With the king creeping up in age, seeking retirement, the kingdom needs a secure heir now more than ever.

The next round of arena games is announced. King Anon himself has chosen to schedule the battles this season instead of the researchers. Last on the list are the two princes, being of elemental blood themselves, set to fight against each other in the grand finale. It becomes all too clear what the king is trying to do.

Perhaps this heir issue can be solved another way. This one, unexpected. If the brothers could sever the ties of their hate and unite against their father, they could forge a brighter future for all. But the price tag for doing so is steep. It requires much effort, and change on Constantine’s behalf. Could he have the strength he needs to pull himself out of his mental rut, and open up to those around him?

—

Here it is! My next project. It feels much simpler than my previous one, though I don’t know if that’s because I haven’t started writing it yet or what. Though to be fair, htkag was very… ambitious. Lots of subplots and whatnot, character driven. No specific structure either. In comparison, this work is plot driven and has only one or two subplots. I’ve made sure to browse some structures for this one and I found one to match! I already feel like this plot line is tighter knit than htkag’s plot was, which is a necessary improvement. I really feel like I’ve got something that works here, and I hope that won’t change.

Also I’m so so sorry the plot description isn’t the best. I know it’s long and kinda vague. I did my best to put it into words without spoiling much. I hope the idea of the plot still gets across. It’s more of an interpersonal story than it seems. I’m going to update it when I come up with something better, like an actual synopsis.

I’ve also made this huge ass moodboard for the vibes of the entire piece.

So. As you can see, I’m very prepared.

I also have these big moodboards made for all the main characters. I’m not gonna introduce them here, I think they all deserve their own posts.

Honestly for some reason I can’t picture this getting much traction, but that’s alright with me. I’m mainly just introducing it so people can have an idea of what I’m working on next, so I can talk about it some. But if you do want to be added to a taglist, just let me know somehow, kay? Love y’all, hope you’re having a lovely day/night.

—

(Just for clarification I don’t own any of the individual pictures, I just own the edits of them.)

#wip: etnb #writeblr #writing #am writing #creative writing #my wip #wip intro #wip introduction #writblr #writing community #you know what’s weird? I’m so prepared for this thing. i know so much already but at the same time I feel like I don’t.

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stressedoutcanary · 3 years ago

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Do You Ever Feel Like A Misfit (Everything Inside You Is Dark & Twisted)

Dick Grayson x Reader

Word Count: 3.5K (I don't know how tf that happened)

Warnings: Explicit language, Blood and Violence, lots of angst, Hurt/Comfort ✌

A/N: Guess who's back! Just for some context the reader is a magic user and her style is similar to that of Zatanna <3

•°•°•°•°

She’d have reasoned with herself that stealing from one of the most secure and heavily guarded safe-houses of a deranged sociopath was probably not the brightest idea she’s had all day. It never even made it on her to-do-list for the weekend, but here she was, running across rooftops, holding on to the stolen totem like her life depended on it, it probably did. The three assassins sent after her were no Lady Shiva or Talia Al Ghul but they weren’t exactly amateurs either. The deep cuts and two broken ribs she got from their earlier encounter were proof of that.

She glanced back and even though there was no sign of her would-be-killers she knew better than to assume they’d just let her be. They were sticking to the shadows, exploiting her blind spots. The only thing she was sure of was that they were still hot on her trail and would happily plunge a dagger into her back given the opportunity.

She was right. As of this moment she hated being right.

She caught the glint of the two sharp objects slicing through the air, hurtling towards her at full speed. A slight shift of her upper body was all she could manage as one of the daggers got embedded right into her scapula while the other one, fortunately so, whirled past her, slightly grazing her left hip. The impact of the blade on her shoulder made her lose what little balance she had left. Despite her best efforts, when the wounded shoulder made contact with the hard concrete, a loud, ear-piercing cry ripped out from her throat before she could push it back down.

Cursing under her breath she knew, she knew all she had were those few seconds of numbness and disorientation to get a grip and figure out her exit strategy. However, all her hopes started to sink as she saw one of the assassins come closer, appearing more of a blur than a person. Then again that was probably because of the nice, little concussion she got from her fall. The assassin walked over to her, unsheathed their sword and placed it right on her neck, blocking any and every way out.

“You were warned. The Demon’s Head does not tolerate treachery. We are here under his orders to bring back the totem along with the witch’s head; your head”

If she could, she would’ve rolled her eyes at the classic villainous dialogues thrown at her.

“Witch? Who’re you calling a witch Snow White? I’m clearly a sorceress, don’t they teach you the difference between the two in assassin school or something? Hell, I’d even let you call me an enchantress, though that name’s already been taken but you get my poin-”

The remaining words died in her throat as the sword on her neck shifted slightly. She knew she had extremely poor self preservation skills considering she’s clearly been instigating the very person sent to kill her, but even she wasn’t dumb enough to keep talking when the tiniest movement on either part could result in her having a severed jugular or carotid.

‘This is a pretty shitty way to die’

She thought back to how she used the last of her mystic energy to hide the totem away before her fall and how stupid that decision really was because now she could actually feel the agonizing pain coming from her shoulder. It started to spread throughout her back like wildfire, eyelids grew heavy against her wishes. Suddenly she felt really tired and the idea to close her eyes just felt so goddamn appealing.

‘No (Y/N) that’s the blood loss talking. Blood loss doesn’t get to make decisions’, she mentally scolded herself, still not breaking her eye contact with the person standing above her.

“Give us what you stole and we shall grant you the mercy of a quick death.”

That made her raise an eyebrow, “Ah, lemme think...the correct response here would be…”, she hummed, making a show of how hard she was thinking about the offer she was granted, “How about a fuck you? How would that do for you?”, she gave them a vicious grin, it was all teeth. They probably weren’t impressed by her response and it showed.

She knew there was no way out but she had promised herself once that if she were to die, that if she ever goes out, she’d be anything but a whimpering and sobbing mess. She was scared shitless, more so than she’d ever been while fending off the league, she won’t deny that but she would rather die than let them know that. ‘Well at least I got that ‘rather die’ part down to a T.’ she thought, eyeing the sharpness of the blade which was now raised up in the air

She felt bad for just giving up the way she did. Her whole life she was told to fight her way through the impossible, to attain the strength rivaling that of Zatanna Zatara, John Constantine and Doctor Fate himself. To be better than them, and there she was lying on the ground limp as a sword came down on her throat; all for a silly necklace. She would’ve huffed out a laugh if only her ribs weren’t broken, if only her body wasn’t screaming in pain, if only she had a way out. She didn’t. She was too tired, too drained, too numb to do anything else. Closing her eyes she stopped fighting, she let her growing unconsciousness claim her.

‘This is what you deserve anyway’, her barely there conscience remarked.

‘Fuck you too.’ she replied.

Everything went pitch black. The darkness encompassing her was peaceful, unlike the pain she had felt before. It was nice for a change. It sounded pathetic but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

•°•°

When she came to, the first thing she observed was the feeling of something soft against her back, next was a dull rhythmic sound which she realized was her own heartbeat. Though opening her eyes was a tiring task. It shouldn’t have been, but it was. She used all the energy she had into it and her eyelids fluttered open. She stared at the white ceiling and stayed like that for a few seconds; a few minutes? She couldn’t tell, but the pain was back now, not too much but enough to tell her it was there, to tell she was still alive.

She saw something shift in her peripheral vision and her body instinctively went stiff. Her mind which was blank before now ran in all directions.

‘Could be Ra’s Al Ghul… Could be worse’, she tried not to think about the worst case scenario, but she knew she had pissed off a lot of beings, beings far more powerful and far crueler than Ra’s himself. An involuntary shudder passed through her at the thought. That must’ve caught her captor’s attention as she felt the person move closer to her. Begrudgingly, she tore her gaze from the spot on the ceiling which she had been staring at this whole time and tilted her head. The man in black and blue who appeared, was probably the last person she had expected to see.

“Nightwing…”

Her voice was barely above a whisper and the hoarseness with which it came out it took her by surprise, but her body visibly relaxed at the sight of the familiar figure, at the sight of someone who would never hurt her.

She watched him pull out a chair from the desk nearby. He sat next to the bed she was lying on and gave her a soft smile, a smile that spelled one word ‘relieve’. She remembered how when she first met him two years ago, she found that particular smile extremely annoying, she had no reason to, but she did. What she couldn’t remember was when she had grown so fond of it.

“How do you feel?”

“Like shit.”

He snorted a laugh which made her pout. She was planning to point out how he was being mean; laughing at her when her response truly defined the way she was feeling, but any words she thought of were cut off by the change in his expression. His smile faltered, lips were now pressed in a thin line, face contorted in a way which showed his genuine concern.

“This is the second time, this week.”

That you almost died, he didn’t say. That I had to save you and bring you back from the clutches of death, he didn’t say.

“I know.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

“I know.”

The silence that settled, stretched far too long for comfort, but she wasn’t going to be the one to break it. She wanted to, but there was nothing she could say, that would make it better. Nightwing ran his fingers through the locks of hair, burying his face in his hands.

For the first time since she woke up, she took in his appearance, he looked disheveled, his suit was torn in different places along visible faint cuts, most likely he got them when he rescued her. She felt a pang of guilt rising in her chest. He risked his life for her, she knew he had done it before, she didn’t get it then and she didn’t get it now. Why would someone do that? Why would he? She was pulled back from her spiraling thoughts when he spoke again, exhaustion evident in his voice.

“Why are you so reckless?”

“Excuse me?”

She looked at him like he had grown another head. She wasn’t ready for this conversation but by the looks of it they were gonna have it anyway.

“What if I hadn’t been there today? Or any of the other days you almost died. What then?”

“My best guess? I would’ve been dead.”

“And that fact doesn’t bother you at all?!”

She flinched at little when his voice rose, but she stood her ground, at least figuratively since she was still in bed.

“I don’t know, should it?” She didn’t try and tone down the venom dripping from her words. Her words cut deeper than the wounds he got from the assassins; she saw it clear as day on his face. She let out a deep sigh but continued. She had to get it out and he had to hear it, that’s the reason she gave herself for the confession that followed.

“I don’t need your help, Dick. I don’t know what gave you the impression that I did but I’ve never needed it.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘Why was it getting harder to speak?’ “I don’t need you to save me every time. I don’t need you to risk your life for me and I definitely don’t…” She moved to sit up straight, her back resting on the headboard. She shifted her gaze on her open palms resting in her lap; palms covered in blood, in her blood, not very long ago.

“I don’t need you to care...”

The last part was a whisper and Dick was silent, so silent that for a brief moment she wondered if the man she’d come to care about even heard her, admitting something that was so painful for her to say out loud.

Dick moved to sit beside her, his shoulder bumping hers. He didn’t know where all this was coming from but he knew better to leave it unattended.

“(Y/N) I help you because I care about you. I always will, you know that.”

“Why? You have nothing to gain from it”, blinking back the unshed tears in her eyes, she looked at him with a hurt expression as if she couldn’t bring herself to understand.

“Why… as in why do I care?”, Dick tilted his head to look her in the eyes, trying to understand what she meant all the while making sure not to let his own surprise at her words show. She nodded not trusting her voice to not betray her anymore than it already had.

“I don’t care about you because I feel like you need it nor because I would gain something from it”, Dick knew he shouldn’t have to explain it to her. He briefly wondered what she had gone through to make her think that she needed to be useful to be cared for or that she had to need it to be cared for. He felt something pull at his heart at the thought; It was sorrow.

“I care about you because… well I do and there’s nothing you could or couldn’t do to change that. And it is because I care about you that I ask you to be better at taking care of yourself. Now I know for a fact that whatever you stole from The League’s safehouse definitely did not belong there, but I also know that whatever it was, it wasn’t worth your life (Y/N) It never will be.”

Dick grasped one of her hands, interlacing his gloved fingers with hers; she hadn’t even realized she was shaking until he did so. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to take a deep breath despite her protesting ribs. Opening the palm of her free hand she muttered an incantation with practiced ease

“Eveirter tahw saw neddih “, her hand glowed, the golden aura taking the shape of a object. When the light subsided, Dick saw the object in her palm as she rubbed her thumb across it, quietly leaning her head on his shoulder.

“It was this totem. It belongs to Madame Xanadu. Don’t know what Ra’s wanted it for though”, she shrugged as best as she could with an injured shoulder then continued, voice firmer than it had been the whole evening,“ She asked me to retrieve it in exchange for information on a girl I was looking for. The girl was somehow sucked into some other dimension, a mystic one and her mother was so desperate when she approached me that I just couldn’t say no. So when I say the Totem was important, then I want you to know that it really is.”

Dick shook his head at that. “Still not worth your life.”

“Dick…”, she sighed. It was all she could do at the moment because she was really getting tired from all the arguing.

“Do you remember the first time we met?”

“You mean the time I met the infamous vigilante Nightwing in a dumpster of all places.”

“In my defense I was badly injured”, she hummed in agreement.

“You smelled bad”

“You try smelling like flowers after falling from a building and into an open dumpster.”

His playful grumbling pulled a short laugh out of her. She was more than a little confused at the sudden trip into the past but happily accepted it as a change of topic. She should’ve know better than to think he’d have let the matter go.

“Anyway my point is when you saw me that day, you first instinct was to help me. You pulled me out and used your magic to heal my wounds. You didn’t have to. You could’ve dropped me at a hospital. You could’ve even walked away and pretended that you never saw me, but you didn’t. Why is that?”

“Because I thought you were handsome?”, she said trying to lighten this too-heavy-for-comfort conversation he was trying to have.

“Nice try. I know you. You saved me because you cared. You helped me and the Titans save the city more than once because you cared. It is who you are. I’ve seen you care about and worry over complete strangers without conditions. So why do you think that there has to be some kind of a barter system when it comes to you? Why think that I would want to gain something if I cared about you?”

“Because everyone else did.”

The words shot out from her mouth quicker than she realized. She had voiced her greatest insecurity to the one person who never had anything to add to it and Dick’s heart clenched at the implications of her words, ‘She has never been loved unconditionally before’ his brain provided.

The tears she blinked back earlier came back with full force. She felt two strong arms that wrapped around her, all the while being mindful of her injuries. Dick pulled her into a hug and that was it. She couldn’t control the sobs that tore through her throat, the pain in her body flared due her erratic movements. She knew once the tears started flowing they wouldn’t stop at least not for a while, but now that her façade had been broken she couldn’t bring herself to give it another thought.

He waited for her to let it out, let out all the pent up emotions she had. Now that he thought about it he had never seen her cry. He never questioned it, maybe he should’ve.

“I don’t know who’s responsible for hurting you (Y/N), God, how much I wish I did”, his arms slightly tighten around her at that. “I am so sorry that you have felt like you have to have your walls up all the time, even around me and I should’ve seen that, I should’ve realized that before but I didn’t and I am so sorry for that. I can’t undo the damage you’ve endured and I will not pretend that I can. What I can do is promise you that I’d never let you down like that, never.”

The words he spoke were clear. He didn’t try to tell her to put her walls down, to trust him when she had no reason to. He also didn’t need to justify himself or make such over the top promises but it felt nice to hear it. She had already stopped crying the moment he started speaking again but she still had her forehead pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, it was calming in a way she couldn’t describe. She pulled her head back to look at him, and the honesty in his voice earlier matched the one in his eyes.

“Okay”

Hearing her response, he gave her his signature grin. It sent unexpected warmth through her, he always had that effect on her. She was sure she was just blushing at this point and was suddenly thankful for the dim lighting in the room.

She ended up composing herself rather quickly, jabbing a finger at his armored chest with her usual smirk plastered on her face.

“Now that you’ve made that promise, know this, Dick Grayson, if you let me down I will drop a mountain on you.”

“You mean that figuratively?”

“No I mean that geologically”, he waited for her to say she was kidding. She didn’t.

“Alright, alright”, He held his hands out in mock surrender. After considering the look in her eyes, Dick refrained from questioning the feasibility of that action nor did he want to question her magical abilities or intent. Last he remembered, Wally did that and that conversation ended with him being teleported to Sahara and Dick would very much like to avoid the same fate as his best friend.

Deciding that was more than enough exhaustion for one night, he got up from the bed and kissed her goodnight, informing her that he’d be sleeping on the couch so that he wouldn’t accidently hit her injuries in his sleep. She agreed and watched him slip out of the room before falling into the blissful sleep she had been putting off since forever.

•°•°

She knew Dick Grayson was full of surprises but the next morning when he put forward the offer of become a full time Titan, in front of her, she wondered if she fell from the bed in her sleep and ended up getting another concussion because he was so not making any sense.

“So let me get this straight, you want me to come live with you and your superhero friends, in the Titans freaking Tower?!”

“I was hoping for a little less yelling after an emotional evening but yes that is exactly what I’m asking.”

“Dick that’s just ridiculous!”

“Look, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

He looked like a kicked puppy which made her feel kinda guilty for all the yelling.

“It’s not that…It’s just there is still a lot about me I haven’t told them. There is still a lot I haven’t told you. I don’t see a reason why you all would want to trust a possible threat, let alone live with it”, she gestured to herself.

Dick felt like there was a deeper meaning behind her words, as if she was voicing her own fear rather than theirs but he trusted her enough to tell him about it when she was ready, on her own terms. He could wait till then but for now he crossed the short distance between them, going around the breakfast table till he stood in front of her. He grasped both of her hands in his and ran his thumb soothingly across her knuckles. He bent down to place a soft kiss on her forehead, and then moved to meet her gaze.

“(Y/N), I know you and I trust you and…It sounds silly considering I was raised by the worlds greatest detective but I believe that you don’t have to know every little detail about someone as long as you already know what’s in their heart.” Bruce probably would’ve disagreed but he wasn’t Bruce.

“And you know what’s in mine?”

“And I know what’s in yours.” His statement was firm and left no room for argument, not when it came to this.

“If you’re sure about this, then I guess...”

“Is that a yes I’m hearing?”, There was that smile again, seriously what was up with him and his smile that made her giddy inside.

In between thoughts she realized he was still waiting for a response so she nodded. Any underlying doubts she had about her answer vanished when she took in how happy it made him. As cheesy as it sounded seeing him happy made her happy. A part of her said it wouldn’t last long, but seeing her boyfriend hop onto the couch full of joy as he called his friends about the latest development in their lives, she wanted to believe otherwise.

°•°•°•°•

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alecmagnuslwb · 2 years ago

Text

What One Vamp Does in the Shadows

Read on AO3

Whenever Bruce Wayne calls its always trouble. It’s been this way since they first met, he calls it’s the end of the world. He calls, someone’s dead. He calls and he’s stumbling through an attempt to ask her to join him at a gala she’d rather be caught dead than attend.

Which is why she ignores her phone the first three times it rings. John grumbles loudly on the fourth ring burrowing down into the covers. Zatanna attempts to flip over to finally answer it but John deep under covers flops on top of her preventing her from moving.

“John,” she chides pushing at his shoulder. An unidentifiable sound grumbles against her lower stomach, but he doesn’t budge in the slightest. The phone ceases ringing only to ring again directly after. “It’s ringing again.

John lifts himself just enough so that she can twist a bit, retrieve her phone and fall back down flat on her back. John resituates himself back against her stomach. She moves her legs bending them a bit at the knee on each side of his body.

She swipes her phone open putting it on speaker. “Bruce what is it?”

“There’s what I believe to be a vampire nest in Gotham and I felt it required the attention of someone magically inclined,” he says in his full Bat voice. He must be in the cave, it’s midday far too bright outside for him to be on any sort of patrol.

“So call Andrew, you know the vampire,” she says pointedly.

“Unavailable,” Bruce replies all business.

“Fine find yourself a vampire slayer then, Buffy or somebody,” she groans tossing an arm over her eyes.

“She is fictional Zatanna, I could use your assistance,” he says and Zatanna’s arm drops eyebrows going up a bit. She’s kind of proud of Bruce for even knowing who Buffy the Vampire Slayer is in the first place.

“She’s unavailable,” John says lifting up voice still muffled underneath the covers.

“Constantine,” Bruce says sounding even more stern than before. Zatanna chuckles patting at what she thinks is John’s head covered in comforters.

“How soon can you be in Gotham, Zatanna?” Bruce asks specifically leaving John’s name out of the conversation.

She sighs. She really doesn’t want to go, but a real legitimate wild vampire’s nest is messy and could be a serious danger to innocent people who’ve got enough problems simply for the fact they live in Gotham. She’s bringing John though, if for no other reason than to annoy Bruce.

“Give us a couple hours, vampires hide well in the daylight it’ll be useless going right now,” she says hanging up just as she hears Bruce briefly say in an angry tone ‘us?’.

“Up and at ‘em Johnny,” she says tossing the phone back onto the nightstand. She flips the covers back revealing John’s head pressed into her lower stomach.

“Five more hours,” he slurs shifting his head to press a line of small kisses just above the waistband of Zatanna’s tiny shorts. Her breath does not hitch at the action, totally does not. They don’t have time for this. She needs to shower and change and go fight a vampire’s nest.

“John,” she halfheartedly chides as John slips her shorts down just the tiniest bit. Her breath definitely hitches this time. “There’s no way this will take five hours.”

She looks down at him biting her lip on a playful smirk. He smiles at her sliding up her body till they’re face to face. “Is that a challenge?” he asks brushing his nose against hers.

“Maybe,” she grins. John bends down pressing a soft kiss to Zatanna’s neck then another slower to the hollow at the bottom of her throat.

“Challenge accepted,” he says dramatically lifting his head and sliding back down, Zatanna giggling all the way.

***

They don’t stay in bed for quite five hours, but damn does John accept his challenge well. Well enough that they don’t actually shower or change their clothes, Zatanna just waves her hand and they’re ready to go.

If the opportunity means that Zatanna can put John in the blue suit he doesn’t wear anywhere near enough these days, well that’s just a little bonus prize for her since he lost the challenge.

Bruce doesn’t look pleased when they arrive, mostly at John’s presence but likely also at their tardiness.

“You’re not going in,” she says no arguments to be made when Bruce explains why he believes there’s a vampire nest inside the old Gotham drug store.

He bristles but she holds up a hand. “John and I know what we’re doing and while I’m sure the big bad bat can handle some vampires we can sort it before you can pull your first homemade stake from that fancy little belt of yours.”

He looks ready to argue, but after a tense stare down from her he relents.

“Longer than 20 minutes and I’m coming in,” he says gruffly crossing his arms and standing guard on the sidewalk.

John salutes him as they step up to the building, Zatanna breaking the lock with a wave of her hand. They enter quietly. The place is clean, surprisingly clean for a supposed vampire’s nest. No blood on the walls, no bodies piled up or blood junkies shaking in the corner.

“This is cleaner than my flat in London,” John says quietly brushing her arm.

“The one that burnt down or the one you were evicted from?” she says with a smile over her shoulder. He rolls his eyes. They were both pig sties, a standard vampire’s nest would look cleaner.

Her attention jumps back to facing forward when an old pill bottle shakes and falls off the far wall rolling till it hits the toes of Zatanna’s heel. A shuffling noise follows and she and John make eye contact for a moment before stepping forward. John slips a stake form his sleeve while Zatanna summons a small flame to her fingers.

They round past the old drug counter and there on the floor in a bright yellow t-shirt and a pair of khaki cargo shirts is a very pale man.

“Oh, please don’t kill me,” the man quivers hands in the air in surrender.

John and Zatanna share a look before looking back at him.

“Are you living here alone?” Zatanna asks there’s something about the fear in his eyes, the shake of his voice that has her hesitating. He doesn’t seem like a cutthroat vampire.

The man nods his head.

“Got a name?” John asks loosening the stake in his hand.

“Abernathy,” he says keeping his back still pressed close to the wall. “I swear I’ll leave.”

Zatanna holds up a hand trying to calm him. “You don’t have to leave, but Batman is outside thinking you’re running a vicious direct line blood bank so I’m gonna need to know where you get your blood and don’t lie. I’ll know if your lying,” she says pouring a magical purple glint through her eyes for emphasis. He starts a bit at the action, but he looks more open than he did before, who needs a lasso of truth when you’ve got a little trick of magic.

“I just have a guy at the blood bank on twelfth and when he can’t hook me up I uh, well it’s a little shameful, but I eat squirrels,” Abernathy says his legs loosening a bit, his posture no longer as tense.

“Squirrels?” John asks with a snort.

“Hey, don’t laugh. A man’s gotta eat and my band well they keep quitting so I don’t make enough money to always get the blood bank quality stuff,” Abernathy defends finally rising up from the floor.

Abernathy reaches his hand back flicking on some lights. The drug store is no longer a bright white, but the walls are painted with black light paint. A glowing turtle on one wall, the Gotham Drug symbol transformed into a three headed cobra.

“That’s my band’s symbol or one of them, we’ve changed the name five times so,” Abernathy shrugs gesturing at the wall when he notices Zatanna looking at.

“Alrighty then,” she says with a shake of her head.

“Batman’s not gonna kill me is he?” Abernathy asks nervously. John laughs fully sheathing the stake back in his sleeve.

“No, well at least not tonight,” John says through his chuckles.

Zatanna nudges him with her elbow. “Or ever. Not as long as you keep doing what you’re doing, don’t attack anybody and lay low.”

“I can do that!” he says a little too loud and enthusiastically. The two of them look at him with raised brows and he calms. “I mean I can do that,” he says a lot more relaxed.

“Okay, we’re gonna take you on your word just this once. You won’t get a second shot,” Zatanna says nudging at John and tilting her head towards the door.

“I’ll be cool, I promise. Scout’s honor,” he says raising up his hand in the scout symbol. Zatanna shakes her head, her and John picking their way back towards the door. Abernathy follows them like a courteous host walking out his guests.

“Oh, wait a sec!” he says when they reach the door. He rushes to the counter grabbing some pieces of paper and handing them over to the two of them. Zatanna looks down at hers and just laughs. “My band has a show on Saturday if you guys wanna come. We’re kind of like a new wave pop-synth thing.”

“Bat’s on Vacation?” John asks with a quizzical look.

Abernathy just shrugs. “We’ll probably change it. It’s better than our last name though,” he says and John gestures at him with a go on look. “Champagne Enema.”

“Ew,” Zatanna says while John just chuckles.

“I used to have a band,” John says clapping Abernathy’s shoulder while Zatanna reaches for the door. “Word of advice, stick to a name. You’ll never build a fanbase if no one knows your name.”

“Thanks, man,” Abernathy says with a sharp, toothy smile. They slip out the door after that, Abernathy locking it behind them.

Batman looks at them expectedly arms still crossed, looking like he hasn’t so much as taken a breath since they walked inside.

“All clear,” Zatanna says with a smile pocketing the flyer.

“The vampires are dead?” he says.

“I mean technically yes, they always are,” John says punching Batman in the shoulder. If Zatanna wasn’t there he’s pretty certain Bruce would punch John in the face for that.

“There’s one vamp. He’s a friendly,” Zatanna says so that Bruce moves his glare away from John.

“A friendly?” he says skeptically.

“The guy in there is a poorly written episode of What We Do In the Shadows he’s not hurting anybody, so just leave him be,” she says with a sigh. She really doesn’t want to fight Bruce on this right now. He eyes her with a squint for a full solid silent minute before nodding, trusting her.

“You should check out his band,” John says with a chuckle smacking his flyer into Bruce’s chest as he starts to walk away. Bruce gives her a look and she just shrugs picking up her pace to catch up with John.

She slips her arm into his when she reaches him. “You think his band’s any good?”

“Fuck no,” John says with a laugh as Zatanna presses her smile into his shoulder.

#my fic #john constantine #zatanna zatara #johnzee #magicblazersource #this is a lil dumb but like fun dumb!

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