#Constantine falls under magic too

[dead1nyourarea]

HEY DC X DP FANS

REMEMBER CALCULATOR??? THE CALCULATOR? Whatever the fuck his nerdy ass name was???

He like, was the villain equivalent of oracle in dc-online. And he’s like a character that I don’t think dc really uses often… (Yes I still play that- shut up)

Yeah, anyways-

Boom, make him Tucker. Or make Tucker him??

Tucker = The Calculator

Get it? Got it? Good.

then do whatever the fuck with that. Like- Danny could be a villain in training (dc-online story arc???)

Or maybe no one else knows, and then the bats find out and Tucker freaks the hell out

Or I dunno- Danny is a “villain” (but in the fun way, not so murderous) and ends up being recruited as one of the villain mentors (yknow; Lex, Joker, Circe)

(Since each is a counter to a hero; Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman. What if Danny’s the counter to another hero? Or even the counter to the entire Justice League Dark. I think it’d be pretty funny if he’s the counter to Flash or something)

And now he’s gotta mentor a bunch of villains-in-training who literally busted out of test tubes and have no memories from before… and god hes just adopting kids isn’t he?

maybe somehow Klarions here, too.

I rambled in the tags a lil bit btw…

[on-the-clear-blue]

What if Danny didn't die? He does open the portal but for the first time in their lives the Fentons followed OSHA regulations.

He doesn't have the powers, but he was right there when the portal opened, he saw the tear in reality and it...it did things.

It wasn't something that a humans mind was supposed to see, while the Infinite Realms are the in-between dimensions, and what is in-between the in-between?

Elder gods, slumbering calamities, fallen angels hid from their gods ever present eye, righteous spirits who reached nirvana, monsters beyond imagination...

The crack before the Realms snapped to his dimension was only open for a mere moment, a single millisecond but to the young boy it was eternity, and he could only watches as all those beings turned their attentions to him, they saw him, observed him as much as he did them.

He had fallen, screaming as he clutched his eyes, his eyes and ears were bleeding, his brain pounded so hard it felt as if it was going to knock out his eyeballs, Sam and Tucker, spared from it all as they had turned their heads when the lightning flashed and rent the portal open could only rush to the boy, trying to help him but all he could do was scream. Because what was beyond had saw him, and gave him a gift.

---

Far away, in a tall tower, a man with a gleaming gold helmet shuddered as the ankh of light in front of him shattered.

He fell to the floor, the minor magic he used failing as the more complex spell fizzled and broke, leaving him painfully wheezing on the ground, clutching at his chest.

"N-no...T-this can not be...T-The order...it...it failed...it can not fail!" Dragging himself across the Tower of Orders floor, Dr. Fate forced himself over to a lone summoning circle, falling onto it with an exhausted groan, the Gaurdian of Order muttered a soft word, and the circle flared, and in an instant he was gone, leaving the Tower shaking it it's wake.

---

On the couch of the House of Magic, John Constantine was feeling as if the world had fucked him so hard in the ass he would never be able to walk straight ever again.

And with the pounding in his skull from a truly deadly hangover wasn't helping either.

Nor was the half dead Dr. Fate puking up his guts in his living room.

"Argh" which translated to "What the bloody fuck are you doing in my house you daft shiny headed prick" but John didn't really have the strength to say that.

"Blugh" was what the ever regal Dr. Fate responded with, which obviously meant "The border between realities have been broken, the Beyond Dark knows of our existence and has seen our world, they have come to either eat upon our existence and reality or defend agaisnt the others that seek to only fill their own unexistance."

John of course, carefully and gracefully pissed himself.

---

In Faccuet City, a young Billy Batson screamed as his head exploded with noise, the gods and heros alike were all suddenly the strongest they had ever been, their powers flooded and overwhelmed his mortal form, and to save his life, the Champion of Magic forced itself into being.

Even in the Champions form the sudden influx of godly might was almost too much, steam charged with lightning billowed off him in great plooms, sparks zapped from his finger tips to the ground, and the air stunk of ozone all around him.

The gods were ranting, each talking over each other, debating in so many dead languages Billy's mind could keep up the translations.

It wasn't until Solomons voice boomed over the others that the voices fell quiet. "ENOUGH! NOW IS NOT THE TIME OF IN FIGHTING, THE BEYOND IS AT OUR DOOR..."

Taking a breath even if he didn't need it, the ancient king looked all the years he had lived and then some, "Young William...oh dear precious boy...our dear son. A great advent has begun, a door which should never been opened has been thrown wide...the beasts you face, the abominations of teeth and tentacles are just the mites that have slipped under the door...waht is to come will make all that you have faced look like mice...we will not have enough time to prepare you with what is to come..."

Solomons voice broke at the end, and he hung his head in the mental image in Billy's head "Seek out others, join forces with any. All those in touch with the arcane shall know of what just happened...as Champion you will be the spear head, the general of them all...you will lead them agaisnt the Beyond."

---

It took a week for Danny to come back to himself again, at least a little bit, he still had a haunted look in his eyes, and was far to quiet. He barely spoke at all, but when he did it was in ramblings of things not understood by any of them.

His parents assumed it had been a ghost that left in this state, their hatred for the ectoplasmic beings growing more and more as their son, their boy grew worse.

Jazz, unlike her parents listened to what Danny described, studied what she could and figured out what she couldn't, at each dead en she pushed, with Tuckers help she gained access to computer systems that held secrets of the occult, and with Sam's freely given credit card? Oh she dived deep into spell, trying desperately to find any kind of cure for Danny's predicament.

As time went on the boy only got worse, he had begun seeing the beings in the Beyond, some whispered wisdom, of long lost ways to calm the millions of mutterings in his gray matter and the pounding of his heart, while others screamed, in jubilation and rage, as it is only in being seen did they become real, and becoming real meant they had a foot hold in existence.

The wise figures, while helping had also steered him to their own goals, some told him to hate the jabbering hordes, others said that the only way to truly to be rid of them was to be nothing as well, to go far past being a person, into being one with the Byond.

Some of the mutterings lead to more questions, they spoke of Gods long forgotten and recent, of their betrayals and what they did to fall, others claimed that they were not fallen, that they were there to protect him from those that were.

The more and more he listened the more and more he saw of them, until Danny began to not understand what was real and what wasnt.

So he didn't even flinch when a group of imposing figures were in his room when he came up to his bed, hoping that the voices of Parathax the Unbeliever would be quiet enough for him to sleep.

Oh he did scream quite a bit when the sad trench coat man with a multi fractured sould reached out and touched him.

[sonnyaavce]

DP x DC prompt # 6

There’s a kid crying, a blue skinned white headed kid that was just sitting there crying his eyes out in a panic as he was covered in a very large and dark cloak that was dwarfing him… that was cute to see but, the thing wouldn’t be an issue if there weren’t for the clusterfuck of dead cultist surrounding a green ominous portal under him while the poor kiddo shed luminescent tears nonstop.

“Why is there a kid?” ‘dumb question to ask Captain but sure let’s go with that yeah?’ scoffed annoyed Constantine after eyeing the magic champion while some of the members of the Justice League finished some of the goons that were still alive and resisting, Constantine just watched in dumbfounded stupor the crying baby eldritch abomination still wailing over there.

“I’ll go check on him first” said Wonder Woman, being the first to react after finishing her part, slowly walking forward with gentle steps and humming tunes to make the small baby calm down a bit and refocus on her. Dianna never went too closer to grab the small kid, but she slowly crouched in front of him, palms out and leveling her face in a calm expression, so the kid wouldn’t freak out while she still hummed songs and cooed calming words.

The poor kid wails gradually subsided and ‘oh my god, why are those eyes way too green!’ His eyes were completely black except his irises being a bright neon green shine, his small body trembled when only small hiccups stayed, in his small crying fit the lad had ended up sucking his thumb in a desperate attempt to calm down while looking for any non-frightening competent adult and after only seeing Dianna in front of him he tried to raise his small arms towards her but immediately cried as his arms wouldn’t move at all.

“I think the little boy is injured…” said Wonder Woman, breaking the silence once all suspects were aprehended and tied down “explain what you can see Wonder Woman” chastised Batman as he tried to walk towards her to check on the small boy only to be stopped by Superman, who had his eyes shinning red as he looked at the kid “For what I can see, the small child seems to have some broken bones and some internal bleeding… also there’s seems to be a sphere in the middle of his chest?”

“The demon baby is hurt?” Constantine blurted out incredulous, Zatanna wacked him furiously for that comment “if you haven’t heard what Superman said, he said he saw a sphere so it’s not a demon John! it’s a tuttelagé you idiot!”

“How the fuck would you know that isn’t a démonos, Z?!” cussed the magician as he moved a bit back while Zatanna then moved towards Wonder Woman, with spells already healing the poor baby body “tuttelagés are known to be protective spirits of kids that died wishing to protect their loved ones, their wish is then concentrated in their chest as a sphere so to see a young one hurt like this…” Wonder Woman looks grimm at the implications while Zatanna finish healing the young spirit and allows Dianna to pick him up once he’s done healing and calmed down bit.

“Someone must have hurt his protegué so bad that his body is getting affected by it” sentenced Batman as he glared with concern at the small baby who now is now resting his head in Wonder Woman arms and falling asleep.

MEANWHILE

Danny is soo scared and hurt all around his tiny body, the wounds he had while being subjected to the examine table makes him tear up in pain while also making his chest feels funny once the weird forced summoning spell stops pulling his being into existing; green stops flooding his vision only to be meet by a dark and open space full of dead people dressed in weird costumes, so the only answer he has to this is to wail.

Because thats all he can do now, cry. He cries and cries after all what had occurred to him; he cries for his parents betrayal and rejection of his being, he cries for the cruelty they subjected him into, the torture he had to endure and almost making his core break, he cries for his friends deaths when they tried to free him from all his pain but failed.

He cries and cries until the pain into his core is unbearable because he just lost his fright, his connection to the living, his reason of being here. He’s still crying when his senses tenses the moment something changed in his surroundings, he hears fighting and grunting and something falling down and he cries harder; because he’s scared and tired and he just wants Jazz to carry him and…

There’s someone humming, nice humming, calm humming, steps coming closer and then he looks up, scared and hurt and just tired only to find a beautiful black headed and blue eyes woman dressed in a nice outfit crouching in front of him, she’s humming something to him and just looking at him with calm and such gentleness that it makes him croon at her because he feels his core sing ‘she’s nice and pretty and safeSAFEsafeSAFE’ he tries to reach out to her but his arms fell numb and ouchie and he looks up to her, in a silent plea for her so she would carry him but she’s not moving, just looking at him gently.

Until he sees another woman coming closer to them and he tenses up again, afraid and cautious, still a bit frightened by her aura but her hands are starting to glow and he immediately feels his body swaying and feeling a lot better, so he relaxes his body and let’s the pretty woman carry him so he can rest his head and nuzzle asleep.

His core sings pleased ‘I’m safe… she’s nice and safeSAFEsafeSAFE’

-TBC-

masterpost

[istoleyoursphenoidbone]

Would You Fall In Love With Me Again?

DPxDC (With a smidgen of Epic the Musical)

Okay, so yall really liked my last one (and thanks to all of you, I'm glad you guys enjoyed). I wanted to try my hand again and see how this goes, idk about you guys, but Epic the Musical has been my soundtrack for weeks now, and the Ithaca Saga has my heart so...Husbands!Danny and Jason torn apart due to bad resurrection? Why not.

Warning for referenced character death and blood mention, nothing too graphic, tho. Pit Rage makes people do questionable things, ya know?

The Justice League's meeting room was cloaked in unnatural shadows, the atmosphere thick with tension, like the heavy silence before a storm. A team from Justice League Dark stood in the center, preparing for a ritual. Zatanna, her voice a whispered incantation, traced glowing glyphs onto the marble floor. Constantine, who had been trying to tell them all this would be a bad idea, leaned against the wall, a cigarette dangling from his lips despite the no-smoking signs, while Doctor Fate floated nearby, his ethereal presence a calm amid the chaos.

Batman stood at the edge of the circle, arms crossed. He hated magic—always had—but these were desperate times. Jason Todd, the Red Hood, had been spiraling for months. His vendetta against Gotham’s Rogues had left behind a trail of bodies, destruction, and secrets too dangerous to let slip. But it was more than just Jason’s rage. Strange energy readings tied to the Infinite Realms had begun to swirl around his every move. Whatever connection Jason had to that otherworldly dimension had become unstable, and they needed answers—answers only the Ghost King could provide.

“Are we ready?” Batman’s voice cut through the room. Zatanna nodded, stepping back as the last glyph flared to life. “The summoning spell is complete. Brace yourselves. This entity isn’t like anything we’ve dealt with before.” Constantine snorted, flicking his cigarette to the ground. “Ain’t that just bloody reassuring.”

The air split with a deafening crack, and green light spiraled upward, forming a vortex. From it stepped a figure draped in black armor, a faint crown glowing above his head, his eyes burning with an eerie green light. Danny Phantom, the Ghost King, stood before them. "Who dares to summon the High King of the Infinite Realms?" His voice carried an unearthly echo, a stark contrast to the mortal men and women in the room.

Constantine muttered something under his breath—likely a curse—but Wonder Woman stepped forward, her voice steady. “We require your assistance, Ghost King. There’s a man, the Red Hood, aka Jason Todd, whose actions have drawn the attention of both our realm and yours.” Danny’s eyes narrowed, his posture stiffening. “Jason Todd?” Batman stepped forward, his voice rough but resolute. “He’s my son.”

Danny’s gaze snapped to him, the glowing green light flickering with intensity. “Your son,” he repeated, his tone colder now, sharper. Zatanna stepped in to explain, her voice calm but urgent. “Jason is targeting Gotham’s Rogues, several have been killed. But it seems he has a connection to the Infinite Realms. His ectoplasmic energy is spiking. We believe he’s drawing power from your domain, whether he knows it or not.” Danny’s expression darkened, and his voice dropped to a low, almost imperceptible growl. “And you want me to stop him.”

“Not stop,” Wonder Woman corrected gently. “Help. If he’s tied to your realm, we need to understand why—and how to sever that connection, if necessary.” Danny stood motionless, the green light in his eyes flickering with a mix of emotions none of them could decipher. After a long moment, he nodded, sharp and final. “I’ll handle it. Alone.” Batman started to protest, but Danny cut him off with a steady gaze, his voice softening, just a fraction. “You’ve done your part. Let me do mine.” Without waiting for a response, Danny turned and stepped back into the swirling portal, leaving the Justice League in a heavy, uneasy silence.

---

The Infinite Realms churned around Danny as he passed through the portal, an energy that mirrored the restlessness gnawing at his heart. When he had been summoned, he had expected a crisis—another rift in the realms or a rogue spirit threatening the balance, hell even just cultists trying to mess with the order of things again. What he hadn’t expected was to be summoned to deal with him.

Jason...his sweet and loving Jason.

As the portal closed behind him, Danny heard Batman’s grim explanation echo in his mind: Red Hood was spiraling. He’d already killed Joker, Riddler, and Two-Face. And it seemed like Penguin was next. The Pit Rage had taken hold, and no one—least of all Bruce—had been able to pull Jason from the edge. The Justice League had turned to him because the energy Jason radiated had drawn their attention to the Infinite Realms.

It had been twenty years since Jason disappeared from the Realms—twenty long years since Danny had watched his husband, the man he had married in death, pulled from his side and resurrected in the mortal world. For Danny, it felt like an eternity.

As Danny emerged from the portal into Gotham’s shadowed streets, the oppressive energy in the air pulled at him, thick with Jason’s rage. He could feel the ectoplasmic aura that surrounded him, like a storm cloud about to break. But more than that, Danny could feel the familiar tug of Jason’s presence. It was raw, chaotic—lost.

And Danny? He was all too familiar with being lost.

There was no turning back now. Jason was out there, a tempest of pain and blood, and Danny couldn’t stop the wave of dread that surged through him. This was his husband—the man he had fallen in love with, over and over again—and now he was out of control.

Danny’s eyes glowed as he moved deeper into the city, knowing that whatever happened next, he wouldn’t be alone in facing it. Not this time. Jason Todd stood among the wreckage of a smuggling ring’s hideout. The docks were eerily silent except for the gentle lap of water against the pier. Blood slicked his gloved hands, and his breath came in shallow, ragged gasps. The Pit Rage roared in his ears, demanding more—more destruction, more vengeance, and more blood.

The ghostly glow appeared behind him, and Jason spun, guns drawn. The figure emerging from the green light made him falter.

Danny.

Jason blinked, the haze of rage momentarily thinning. He couldn’t trust his eyes, not after everything. But the way Danny looked at him—with love, pain, and something infinite in his glowing green eyes—cut through Jason’s defenses. “Jason,” Danny said softly, his voice trembling but steady. Jason lowered his guns, his shoulders slumping. “Danny?”

Danny stepped closer, his glowing cape billowing behind him. “It’s been twenty years.” Jason flinched. “Eight.” His voice cracked. “Only eight here.” Danny’s eyes softened. “It felt like forever.” Jason staggered back, shaking his head. “I’m not—” He gestured at the blood staining his armor. “I’m not who I was. You shouldn’t be here.”

Danny reached out but didn’t touch him, his hands hovering just inches away. “You’re still you, Jason. You’re still my husband.” Jason’s laugh was bitter, almost a sob. “You don’t understand. I’ve killed them. Joker. Riddler. Two-Face. There’s no redemption for me. I’ve left a trail of blood and bodies. I’m not the man you fell in love with. I’m not—”

“Stop,” Danny interrupted, his voice firm. “Stop telling me who you think you are. I know you. I’ve always known you.” Jason clenched his fists. “Would you still love me if you knew all I’ve done? The things I can’t take back? The lives I’ve destroyed?” Danny took a step forward, his expression raw with emotion. “Yes. I would. I do.” Jason’s knees buckled, and he sank to the ground, his hands covering his face. “I’ve tried to fight it, Danny. I’ve tried to be better, but the rage... it doesn’t stop. It’s like drowning, and every time I surface, there’s more blood.”

Danny knelt in front of him, his hand finally resting on Jason’s shoulder. “I know,” he said softly. “I’ve felt it too—the weight of things you can’t undo. But you’re not alone anymore. I’ve been waiting for you, Jason. Waiting for you to come back to me.” Jason’s breath hitched, and he looked up, his blue eyes rimmed with tears. “How can you still love me after everything? I’m not... I’m not the man you knew.”

Danny smiled, his own eyes glistening. “You’re still the man I fell in love with. You’re still the man who carved our initials into a tree in the Infinite Realms. The man who made me laugh, who promised me forever. And I meant it when I said forever, Jason. No matter where or when or what you’ve done, I’ll love you. Always.”

Jason let out a shuddering breath, and for the first time in years, the weight on his chest lightened. He leaned into Danny’s touch, the Pit Rage ebbing as warmth spread through him. Danny cupped his face, their foreheads touching. “You don’t have to carry this alone anymore. Let me help you. Let me love you.” Jason closed his eyes, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t deserve you.” Danny’s laugh was soft and full of love. “That’s for me to decide. And I’ve decided—over and over again—that I’ll always choose you.”

Jason’s arms wrapped around Danny, holding him tightly as if afraid he might disappear. But Danny held him just as firmly, grounding him, anchoring him. The green glow of the Infinite Realms pulsed around them, a quiet promise of redemption, of love that could weather even the darkest storms.

---

Danny didn’t leave Jason’s side that night, nor would he ever again. Together, they began the long, painful process of healing. The road ahead wasn’t easy, but they faced it together, their love, a beacon in the darkness.

The heroes would just have to get used to the unearthly presence of the Ghost King in their plane of existence. And no matter how much time passed, Danny knew one thing would never change: he would fall in love with Jason Todd, over and over again, for eternity.

[ggomos-maribat]

Tim Drake didn't particularly like the occult.

But Constantine said the two were their best bet against the demon uprising. The magic-user, howeover, refused to contact them himself, claiming that it was a bad idea to involve them, that they were better off dealing with the problem on their own than . . . outsourcing. Unfortunately, Tim (and the rest of the Batfamily really) was stubborn. If they had potential allies to help them, wouldn't it be worth to take the risk?

This mission to contact those people then dragged him to a downtown bar to talk to famous designer Marinette Dupain-Cheng, who he was ninety-five percent sure was one of the two Constantine was talking about.

Tim told himself that perhaps a little bit of sweet-talking would do. His hand inched closer to hers on the tabletop, but she immediately pulled away. "This night has been fun, Monsieur Drake." She smiled sweetly. "But I don't think my husband will appreciate me staying out late."

She showed him a glowing band on her finger, which Tim completely missed when they met. He, too, pulled away, cheeks turning pink. "Uhh, yeah, sorry 'bout that. Don't let me keep you."

Although Marinette had slipped out, he still had a mission to do.

He decided to follow her.

He knew of her potential danger, signified by the fact that she was walking on a dark, deserted, Gotham street by herself. He held his breath when she stopped right below a flickering lamppost.

She turned around, plump red lips stretching into a sinister smile. "That's quite sneaky of you, Monsieur Drake. Why don't you be direct with what you want, hm?"

And he took a step out of the shadows, dropping his act. "We need your help."

"Who told you about me?"

". . . John Constantine."

Her nose wrinkled. "That soul-whore? Figures."

Tim definitely didn't show it, but the way she stood, her mere presence was unnerving like a beast waiting to pounce. But at the same time, she was so unfairly beautiful even in the darkness.

Marinette smoothed down her hair. "What makes you think we're willing to help?"

Tim's eyebrows raised. "'We'?"

A sudden chill arrived with the wind, summoning goosebumps all over his skin. The lamp switched off in a blink, and when it turned on again, a shadow had appeared beside Marinette, which morphed into a human. Or at least he thought it was a human.

"Yes, 'we'," a new voice said. "She and her husband."

Fuck. The man was dressed in elegant clothes, a perfect match with his wife. His hair was slicked back but with strands softly falling on top of his ethereal eyes. Tim swore those were fangs under his pale lips, sharp like the gaze he was shooting at him. Both his deep blue eyes and Marinette's seemed to shine under the moonlight.

Tim was officially scared. He never did like the occult, but goddamn, the occult was causing his bi-panic.

[mask131]

Another little post about the Sandman/Flat-Earth situation. I have seen this recent post relaying the idea that Gaiman's Sandman is an entire rip-off of Lee's Flat-Earth. I spoke about this idea before - pointing out that people seem to be overblowing it a bit and trying to turn a "strongly inspired by" into a "it's a plagiarim case" thing. You know how it goes with the Internet - as soon as someone turns out to be a bad person, every new "trivia" that pops up is spreading like wildfire without people checking their sources (again, to stay on a Gaiman adjacent thing, see how people were deeply convinced Rowling had plagiarized Gaiman's Books of Magic, despite her not doing it and Gaiman himself not feeling plagiarized at all - especially since a lot of the Books of Magic series wasn't his per se, he just created the original mini-series and the rest was grown out by other artists).

Anyway I want to specifically talk about one point made in the post I linked: that Destiny of the Endless (Sandman) is supposedly a plagiarism of Flat-Earth's Destiny. I guess the character they are referring to is Kheshmet, Master of Fortune, embodiment of fate. Now, I have to be fair: I have not reached the part of the Flat-Earth series where Kheshmet appears. So far I am about to finish "Death's Master", and without this post I would have never been aware of the existence of an embodiment of fate in the Flat Earth (since the Lords of Darkness are usually talked about in terms of the trinity of Azhrarn, Uhlume and Chuz).

However I have, again, to point out that despite the feeling maybe being right... to call Destiny of the Endless a "proof" of Gaiman's plagiarism of Lee falls flat (no pun intended). Because Gaiman did not create Destiny of the Endless. Again, this is something that most Sandman fans know about - unless they are fans of the show exclusively - but the very first issues of Sandman, the first arcs, were about creating a new series part of the DC Universe (it was only later that Sandman strayed away into its own thing, and the series adaptation removed most of the DC Universe references to avoid being too obscure to newcomers).

Sandman wasn't just about creating another part of the DC Universe (well, multiverse) but it was also entirely dedicated to bringing back under the light obscure, secondary or forgotten DC characters. That was Neil Gaiman's goal, and it was because these characters were unused and forgotten that he was allowed to go crazy with them.

The Dreaming's inhabitants, when we first see it, are all old EC Comics/ DC Comics horror hosts that were forgotten. Eve, Cain and Abel, Lucien, the gargoyles... They were all part of a shared universe before, the vast network of the old DC horror-universe. Gaiman took it back and simply decided that this universe would be the Dreaming's nightmare part in its ruined state.

The Three-in-One, the Three, the Triple Goddess, however you call them... start out as Neil Gaiman not just playing on the "Wyrd Sisters" like Pratchett himself did (Norns/Macbeth witches crossover), but actually reinventing the Three Witches that were old DC horror-hosts of the "Witching Hour" series.

Hence also why Constantine appears, why Dream fights Doctor Destiny, why Batman's Scarecrow appears, why one of the first "alternate Dreams" we see is the Martian god of Manhunter, why Dream has his Ruby (it was the Materioptkon), etc etc... In fact the first arc of Sandman lost MANY present many people trying to get in the series due to how heavy it was with old DC lore.

And Destiny of the Endless... he is not exception to the rule. Destiny is in fact the ONLY Endless that Gaiman did NOT create - when he started Sandman (again, we have his manuscripts, propositions and drafts in various companion books) he only had three Endless in mind, clearly designed, Dream, Death and Destiny - and the reason Destiny appears so early on in the series is precisely because he was pre-existing in the DC Universe.

He was another DC horror host, who had "canonically" interacted with characters like Lucien or Cain & Abel. Not only that, but he also appeared as a proper character in other DC titles before Sandman was created.

What did Gaiman do with the character? Give him a family and an exact position in the DC Universe. Change his purple robes to gray. Make him blind. And of course, let's not forget giving him a domain... The Garden of Forking Ways. Which Neil Gaiman has been very open (on his very Tumblr he said it two or three different times) about being a nod to Jorge Luis Borges' own Garden of Forking Paths.

As I said in my previous post, yes Gaiman is very derivative, borrows a lot, plays a lot of homages, makes a lot of Easter eggs and nods and winks to other works, resulting in his works being these sort of cultural Frankenstein Monsters... But when you want to point out where a character comes from, get it right please.

Yes, Gaiman was inspired by Tanith Lee when creating the Endless and Sandman. The Lords of Darkness are very similar to the Endless in many ways (personifications of abstract concepts tied to humanity ; top dogs of the supernatural hierarchy who play around with people's fates for their personal amusement ; have their personal world-domains, there's a certain D- motif recurring with Death, Delirium, Delusion...). But they are also very dissimilar in many ways (the Lords of Darkness are under the Gods, who are separate and stronger entities, while the Endless are "above and beyon gods" ; the Endless are a dysfunctional family whereas the Lords of Darkness laugh out loud when humanity imagines them as "cousins" or "brothers" ; and the D- motif is not recurring since among the Masters are the Master of Night and the Master of Fortune).

It is not because Sandman was influenced by Lee's Flat-Earth that EVERYTHING in it is a Flat-Earth rip-off. You have Ovid rip-off, Shakespeare rip-off, Zelazny rip-off, Brian Froud rip-off, The Golden Ass-rip-off, Eddas rip-off, Angela Carter rip-off and much, much more.

Maybe my point of view about the origins of Destiny will change once I get to read Lee's depiction of her Master of Fortune... But for now, if you want to accuse someone of plagiarizing Lee, accuse the artist who created Destiny for hosting EC Comics.

[k2ntoss]

so i was about to fall asleep but then i started thinking about constantine's sidekick!reader again and just imagining a little scenario where they and jason are having a little tiff or something after some kind of mission...like they're both running on adrenaline and maybe a little manic cuz one of them almost got really hurt or something, and then just at one point reader gets tired off the back and forth and just uses their magic to pull jason over by his collar and kisses him to shut him up? and jason just melts immediately?? mmmmmm god i seriously cant stop thinking about this man

-🦊 (thank you for indulging my brain rot every day, it makes me smile sm every time i see your thoughts and additions to my lil ideas😙)

YA GIRL IS FUCKING BAAAACK i do have news but lets leave them for another moment, now i'm here to be amazed by your ideas that feed the little beast inside my head, chef kiss, michelin star kinda shit

it's been years since you started by john's side, it all ending in you learning a few (almost all) of his traits, a mini me and an obnoxious sorceress is what most people would call you, but a caring person nonetheless and that's something you also got from your mentor. john constantine was a drunk silly man, a jerk but he took you in like his kid, he took care of you and protected the only stream of light that his life had.

all of that made easier for you to notice when someone cared for you, making jason's anger melt your heart right now even if you've been pestering him all the way round. the aftermath of this mission was a ton of adrenaline, a big nasty wound on your side and both of you covered in disgusting hellish goo.

some dumb criminal decided that summoning demons was a good idea to terrorize gotham, as if the city didn't had enough demons already. when jason and you attended that particular call you never thought you would end up hurt but how could you not after pestering a demon, all cocky and smug around it before it all ended up in a few more inferior demons attacking you but hey, you managed yourself.

"for once, learn to keep your smart mouth shut or you'll get yourself killed" jason starts, he's towering over you and his arms are crossed on his chest "you're always testing your goddamn luck and look where it got you"

"dick always runs his mouth when he's fighting, it's funny, jay" you smirk, the mention of his older brother makes him shake his head and sigh heavily "it's not that bad, mom" but a sudden pinch of pain makes you grunt when your hand brushes the wound.

"yeah, not that bad" jason is probably a bit more angry when you laugh softly "mind telling me why are you laughing?"

"it's nothing, mommy hen" you shrug before leaning into a wall under his gaze, you can see jason is worried but once again would it be you if you didn't teased the guy a little? "it's hard to think when we're both covered in sticky goo" and even if the comment is meant to tease him, jason looks at you unamused.

"it's not gonna work for you, let me see your side" he speaks while walking closer, jason takes his gloves off and tugs them into one of the pockets of his tactical cargo pants "you have no spell or shit to heal this so we'll do this my way"

"not gonna happen, mr. hood" and jason stops, taking off his helmet too to let you see his stern expression and it's enough to let you know you've gotten under his skin "you expect me to undress here? just like that? no foreplay?"

"i'm being serious, y/n" there it is, jason's voice turns lower and you know he is indeed worried.

a soft sigh escapes your lips, using the resting energy on your body to use your telekinesis and it's hard because jason is good on resisting magic but when it comes to you he almost always let's you get away with it. his body is pulled closer to yours, his body sliding all the way towards you and when he's right in front of you it's your hand the one that tugs him from the collar of his shirt before your lips collide with his in a chaste kiss.

there's a small smile on your lips because he melts into your touch, kissing you back with one of his hands on your waist and the other one cupping your face.

"is it always this easy to shut you up?"

[elliotspenser]

Welp, here it is. My first Constantine (2005) fanfic. This one is post movie ending and pretty much continues from canon.

Characters are Lucifer and John Constantine. Honestly, it’s kinda fun and fluffy. I couldn’t find any fanfics that fit that bill so I had to write it myself.

Just keep in mind when you are reading that the narrator voice is separate from the character voices. So if you’re thinking, John’s mental voice wouldn’t sound like that, you’re right, it’s probably the narrator describing the situation.

Out of respect for those who couldn’t care less, the story is under the cut. To those who do care, enjoy.

One Man’s Trash

“Wha’d’ya thiiink, John? Bring out the bloodshot in my eyes?” Lucifer draped an obnoxiously festive Hawaiian shirt over his immaculately dressed meat suit, flapping his lashes alluringly for effect. Constantine grunted his assent absently, engrossed in the comic he’d grabbed from the ‘Books- 50 cents’ pile.

Luci poked him in the ear with a throughly salivated fingertip to redirect the distracted demonologist’s attention to what really mattered, but was dismissed with a swift bat of the hand. A feat in itself given the teetering armload of second-hand treasures the supernatural slayer had been obliged to haul.

Mr. Most Unclean stamped an ichor oozing loafer and whined with a veiny lip-pout, “You’re supposed to be here for me, Johhhn, that’s the deal. Now, does this shirt scream Hot-Enema-Yoga Half-Breed Brunch, or is it more… Cookout for the Damned-to-Rotisserie-Torture?” He indulged in a self-satisfied grin at the imagery, showcasing his sharp pearly yellows for John’s forehead.

Begrudgingly tearing himself away from the colorful and relatively wholesome adventures of Squirrel Girl, Constantine trained a piercing glare first on the garish flamingo-infested monstrosity in question and then on the more annoying monstrosity it was destined to adorn. The guy looked like a used car salesman at a mob wedding, only more honest. Sickeningly slick, layered in a white sweatshop 3-piece leisure suit trimmed with subtle black details. Like a venomous salamander trying to pass as Colonel Sanders.

“It suits you.” The captive jabbed sedately and returned his attention to the little illustrated escape splayed atop his growing burden of used mundanities.

“That’s all you had to say, John.” Lucifer feigned a bashful blushing glance, giddy that his prisoner was finally participating, tossed the fugly duds haphazardly in the direction of his horde, and with a few excited little claps and a click of his filthy heels he was on to the next cluttered table of junk, pulling the humorless occultist along with him.

John’s once innocent trenchcoat belt was now being used as a torture device effectively leashing him to The actual Devil and making it magically impossible to leave the yard-sale-from-hell. Okay, so technically, they were at a yard sale in West Hollywood and not actual hell, but he wasn’t sure which would be preferable at the moment. Yeah, so the whole point of these little meetups every third Saturday was to torture him. That was the deal. And he had to admit, this being the 14th yard sale of the day in a freak November heat wave, he was starting to feel tormented. Especially when he remembered that today’s festivities marked a measly 6 months service on a 10 year sentence. But it was a small price to pay to have Hennessy’s soul released from hell. Yes, the clergyman literally drank himself to death, but John knew he had been under the influence of more than just alcohol that night, and so did they. And still he was declared a suicide and doomed to eternal agony— the priest, who was so bravely dedicated to saving lives. Hypocritical bullshit.

Well, not on his watch. He knew Lucifer couldn’t possibly resist making a deal after losing his all too infamous claim on the prolific demon deporter’s soul. All John had to do was tempt The Tempter with the opportunity for some one-on-one torment time he knew the fallen angel had looked forward to for so many years and the late Father’s soul would be within his reach.

Of course, he’d expected Satan to haggle on the terms, so he started by offering a week’s worth of visitation rights on the mortal coil, in human form, no tricks, no hell dimension hijinks. The Demon King countered with 50 years, far less than the eternity he was owed and so unfairly swindled out of. Constantine had no intention of allowing his friend to spend any more time in hell than was absolutely necessary, but old Mephistopheles wouldn’t hear of anything less than 10 years, citing something about tradition.

The pale exorcist did his best to shake off the gaudy garment obscuring his vision as he stumbled along behind a disturbingly jaunty Lord of Hell and decided that actively dragging his feet was a waste of energy at this point. Who knew how many more smoldering concrete driveways laden with dumpster fodder they were scheduled to visit today. El Diablo probably knew.

“How many more of these delightful little open air boutiques can I look forward to, O’ Evil Incarnate?” Baring his teeth and molding his lips into a grimace meant to imitate the appearance of joy, he didn’t want ol’ Luce to think he was getting to him. Wouldn’t give the bastard the satisfaction.

God’s favorite excommunicated Son scrunched his face up sour, “Nooo, no ‘Evil Incarnate’, it’s too stiff, too formal, John. Loosen up!” prodding the former chain smoker’s pant leg with a shoed toe, revealing the stark contrast between the man’s black ankle sock and beyond pale shin. “We gotta get to know each other, you know, really strap in for the long haul. Well, for me not so much, but for you, this little deal has gotta be, what, at least a quarter of the years you’ve got left? That’s not a lot, is it…” he wagged his head sadly and clicked his tongue in mock commiseration. “So, why don’t you try something a little more familiar with the time you have left? A nickname!” Pleased with his inspired suggestion, he slapped his tar-stained human hand sacks together again in amused anticipation. One could never have enough nicknames.

“How about Soul-Sucking-Scum-Soaked-Sleaze-Wad?” The heat was oppressive, rendering him frustrated and sluggish and robbing him of this prime opportunity to fling a satisfyingly devastating moniker. Not that the somber career civil servant was known for his creative insults, even with a clear head.

“Too looong. Though I admit all the S’s really speak to me.” He flashed an appreciative grin, licking the surrounding air with a few flicks of his tongue. Suddenly serious, the sinister warden crept a little too close for comfort, “Tell you what, you come up with something I like, and we’re all done for the day.” The Dark Lord sat back on a rickety card table covered in dusty knick-knacks and assorted tchotchkes and crossed his knees with flair, a few ceramic pops and glass cracks briefly drawing judgmental glances from the other sweltering browsers.

“Alright,” Constantine straightened up, suddenly hopeful, but careful to maintain his armor of disaffected nonchalance, “how does Big L grab you?”

“No no no, John. Think I’m going to fall for another one of your tricks? I will not be deemed Head Loser, even if it does sound deceptively prestigious.” The Son of Perdition wiggled a condemning fleshy digit, “Try again.”

Depositing the cordless power drill, fly fishing rod and gaiters, 22nd and 23rd blenders of the day, assorted Mix tapes, Hawaiian abomination, his comic book, and a mint condition Thigh-Master on the nearest table, Constantine grabbed for his nicotine gum, disturbingly damp in the sweaty trouser pocket where his smokes used to be. He popped a piece and chewed, spit glands working overtime filling his mouth with the comforting flavor, the sweet sensation spreading dopamine to every corner of his being like an oil slick catching fire. Nicotine, what a Godsend.

The celestial-savvy sleuth discovered that his brain was, in fact, now miraculously functional, and emboldened by the prospect of cutting this torture session short, he got creative. Pulling from his private card catalogue of puns and pop culture references he assembled a few he found apropos and tried out the their mental mouth-feel before sharing: The Dark Side…nah… …Sir Sins-a-lot? … Lord of the Fries…. wait, no, Lord Soul-deport…? Hmm, too derivative.

He shook his mental etch-a-sketch and tried again using some turns of phrase the old demon might like: Liar Liar Pants on Fire… too cutesy… That in the Hell (heh heh)… …Master Baiter? He chuckled to himself and looked over at the fidgety phantasm stuffed inside a mortal shell. Nah, maybe something more playful? Scorcher McTorture? Daddy War..crimes? He cringed. NOPE, never saying that out loud.

He dug for a few more. Luci in the Sky with Demons? Eh, reaching maybe. The Unholy Ghost? Too on the nose. Did he really have anything he was sure would appease the ancient asshat? Screw it. He did a quick nickname roulette and tossed one out. “I don’t know, Lu, how about Scorcher McTorture?”

Lucifer stilled, eyes alight, clasping his hands as if in prayer, “It’s perfect.” Mouth agape in awe, he snapped it closed and tested ‘er out, “Luuu… just the right balance of familiar and irreverent.” Closing his eyes for a moment to savor it, he instantly knew why it felt like… that, “You called me Lu once before. That time when I sswooped in and saved ya from a terrrible demiiise? You know, you coulda sent a Thank You note, John.” He watched his borrowed finger trace circles in the tabletop, then looked up pointedly through scant lashes at the tall, dark, two-time-suicide.

Constantine rolled his eyes towards the heavens and squared his stance, ready to set the record straight, “See, the way I remember it is you c—” Lucifer snapped his fingers and vanished with a shit-eating grin.

The devil’s caddy quickly scanned the surrounding garage sale for any sign that his dubious jailer still lingered. Gone, along with the hill of junk he’d unloaded just moments ago. Something at his feet caught his eye. He bent and plucked Squirrel Girl from the sidewalk and stood silent for a moment, processing the events of the last 2 minutes.

“Prick.” He gritted out through clenched jaws. Gruffly readjusting his trench coat with a firm flick, he headed for the nearest cab home.

A cool breeze picked up, feeling a bit more like November than it had all day — then he heard it, hot on the wind like a slap in the face, “Looking forward to brunch, John. Bring yoga pants.”

[doomedwarlock]

#DOOMEDWARLOCK: " I'm a nasty piece of work , chief . Ask anybody . "

Lev's non selective JOHN CONSTANTINE from Vertigo Comics, DC Comics and the Sandman Universe. Exclusively comic influenced.

promo template - character playlist

RULES & INFO UNDER THE CUT -

RULES -

Basic etiquette is expected: no godmodding, ic is not ooc, etc.

I don't consider all of hellblazer canon to my portrayal, I might make a list at some point, but most notably I am choosing to ignore Brian Azzarello's Hellblazer and the final 50 issues of the original Hellblazer. Also Hellblazer: Rebirth and any comic that takes place in a different universe. If you wish to rp with specific versions of John (like DKoS or Injustice verse) feel free to come plot!

A giant quest onto itself- I haven't consumed every media John has appeared in. For reference I have read/watched (in no particular order):

the entire original Hellblazer run and its special

Constantine: The Hellblazer

Hellblazer: City of Demons

Hellblazer: All His Engines

Hellblazer: Chas the Knowledge

sandman #3

Swamp Thing 1982

The Horrorist

That one action comics issue he appeared in

Sandman Universe: Hellblazer,

Hellblazer: Dead in America

Hellblazer: Rise and Fall

The Trenchcoat Brigade

Dark Knights of Steel

injustice year 3

Batman: Urban Legends

Batman: Damned

Zatanna and the Ripper

Spirit World

both dark justice league movies

Pre established connections and plotting is encouraged. Especially if your muse is from DC or the Sandman universe.

Hellblazer is a british political satire horror comic about a queer man in the 80s, this means trigger warnings for canon typical gore, a general pessimism about the world, politics and Britishness. Smoking and alcohol abuse will also be present. I will tag these triggers and any other common ones that may arise.

if you decide to unfollow me please (soft)block me

rp memes are the best way to start interacting with me, they are always accepted no matter how long ago I reblogged it.

INFO -

A foul-mouthed, disillusioned, chain smoking British cinic, John Constantine has had an affinity for magic since his youth. After running away from home as a teenager after a botched curse caused his father to become withered and frail, John eventually made his home in London. Quickly becoming involved in the city's occult circles. From there he made a name for himself for being a powerful sorcerer, one who can solve most problems with only his wit, but also a weirdness magnet. Becoming inevitably linked with forces truly out of his depth.

Though John's age varies across media, for simplicity's sake I will keep it at 43. His usual stomping ground is London, but he travels around very often for various reasons so he can easily be put wherever he needs to be. He's a very easy character to add to other universes (just ask DC).

He is also a relentless flirt, please don't mistake this as me trying to force a ship. If you / your character don't like his advances, feel free to let me / him know ic / ooc. Characters under 25 are too young for him.

Mun is 23 and Belgian

[its-queen-panda-bear]

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 😁

[avilionea]

HEADCANON; Re: ARTHURIAN LORE ( In which Darks rewrites a comprehensive timeline) Pt 2/?

The Age of Man -- Free of the Cave Myrddin begins to wander in the city that had been built on top of it. He has no understanding of how the language has evolved and comes to understand that a significant amount of time has past. He tried to make his way back to his Mother's abbey, but could not find it or even a trace of it, for the landscape had drastically changed.

Myrddin lives in the city for a while and is perceived by the populace as a twelve year old boy. Magic is different than how he had learned it and realized that there is a stark difference in Other World Magic and the Magic of Man. Se sets about to learn this magic too.

The Rise and Fall of Constantine-- The cause of this magic stemmed from a conquering King by the name of Bladud who had in his time unified the southern half of Briton ( which had formerly been call Albion). he encouraged the preservation of and advocated for further unifying the Isle against invaders, who brought new ways with them and would destroy magic in Briton simply by allowing new thought to forget the old. he is unsuccessful in unifying the Isle.

Bladud has a son, Leir, who rules peacefully for 40 years, before Roman conquest comes and rages war on the Isle.

Leir's Kingdom shatters and is broken up amongst his Lords making Dumonia (under the Duchy in Cornwall) , East Anglia ( the Royal Capital of Londonium), Pengwern (Wales), Mercia, Rheged, and Damonia in the far north.

Leir dies at the end of a 50 year reign, having reestablished his divine right as King and having his Lord re-swear fealty, and regaining control after Rome's invasions. He is succeeded by his son Constantine whose main wars and campaigns are against Saxons.

Constantine has now reigned for 20 years

Constantine has three sons : Constans, Aurelius, and Uther.

Constans proclaims he is going to be a priest, leaving Aurelius as the heir to Constantine's dismay.

Vortigern makes his way to the right hand of the King, making himself valuable and irreplaceable.

Myrddin still resides in the town above the Crystal Cave, however all that remains of the Cave is Galapus' stone hand partially sticking out of the ground. He has been cursed by fate and now sees infinite paths into the future.

Stories of him have grown and he is approached by Ulfin, a petty wizard and seasoned warrior, who is shocked to find that Merlin appears to be a twelve year old boy. it is in this time that Myrddin is renamed Merlin by Ulfin.

Using the magic of man, Ulfin, through a series of tricks ( making a bowl from a drowned and burned log and having merlin drink a mixture of boiled milk, honey, and sugar from it; the invitation gate; and the sack that could trap death) bounds Merlin to him.

Gorlois is named the heir of Dumonia and is destined to become Duke of Cornwall. He is then engaged to the Celt Igraine and formed an alliance with Ireland.

Constantine is slowly being poisoned by Vortigern who has sent for Constans to come home to see his father on his deathbed. It is during this time that he convinces Constans to become King. Constantine welcomes his son home, proclaims he will be king

Constantine dies. Constans is crowned King.

Vortigern continues to solidify his position at the right hand of the King , but Constans is very religious and begins to enact laws restricting magic users and the Old ways, promoting Christianity in its place.

Vortigern begins to grow in popularity, due to his religious tolerance.

Constans rules for 5 years before he is stabbed. Vortigern has enough power to make himself King.

Aurelius and Uther flee to Breton to avoid assassination.

[ekat-fandom-blog]

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

[roverjamball]

Day 5 - 21.07.2023

"I have to do this to save the world.” “You are my world."

“Meow.” 

I clenched my teeth. "I'm not different in any way that matters. I'm not any better than anyone else. I’m not some unicorn, that poops gold and farts rainbows” Not something I’d usually say, but magic dampening and neck deep in quicksand with nth-metal, led me to pull strength from Constantine. I had to use sarcasm because if I didn’t laugh I would surely cry. 

It was that hopeless.

“Granted," said Klarion. Witch Boy. Lord of Chaos. 

Then his cat mewed [move it along. The hour approaches] The dark magician nodded at his cat not cat, message received. Then turned back to me.  

“Raven,” the demented skinny man lamented my name,  “Century from now, your Titans, mortals, what have you, will be rotting in the earth, whereas, with the help of reality-changing magic, you could very well trans-morph with the gold and summon rainbows.”

“Meow.”

“Yes, well! The point is, all these allies and friends will be ashes to ashes dust to dust, while you are just beginning to come into your full strength. You look like a mortal, Rachel Roth. But make no mistake. You aren't one.”

"Oh, shut up.” That was also my name, ‘Rachel Roth’, and I owned it. I was Raven. But Roth was my mother’s name and mine too by birth.

Sometimes the best way to get information is to provoke action and set people in motion. And then see after shaking some trees what falls down or flies away. 

And then finally follow the quarry to its nest.  

People were missing. 

People are always being kidnapped, was the standard response. It was a fact of life. Human life, animal life, doesn't matter, life has no value in this desolate world. 

There were places where the numbers were up more than usual. After a while, it was noticed that most of the people who were missing had a commonality. They had more than a kernel of otherness to them. 

A thief; getting into places, secure spaces without opening any locks. 

Street magician, sleight of hand so perfect that even the best Carney would have a hard time finding the pea. 

An artisan, whose ceramics glasses and plates, when drunk and eaten from cause, headaches and vomiting. Charlatan charms and bracelets that somewhat did, what it is the seller said they would. 

A gipsy with a crystal ball that could actually read minds and tell the future. 

These missing people were at the fringes of society. Living on the street, some running cons. All of them living some way or another off the grid. 

Many were informants, called upon during bizarre occurrences, trusted police or vigilantes, wanting only to protect their charges. When the coppers and Justice League affiliate noticed that people who weren’t wholly mundane were missing in large quantity, word slowly trickled to JL. And JLD was on the trail. 

They warned us that something was up, that others like us were in trouble, and then told us to not worry our pretty little heads about it. 

Traci; 23 and a newly minted urban studies major, Zachary 24 world world-famous magician and I 21 sociology grad by day and Titan by night, investigated. By magical means and the oldest detective means. And good old fashioned Leg work.

Slowly, others, and still others, aware of their abilities joined us. Giving us information about the disappearances; where things like that happened and describing how. From what we gathered all incidents had one thing in common. One second the people were there the next, they weren’t. Vanished into thin air. 

We reported to the JL: D, were patted on our collective heads, told to travel in pairs as the new protocol dictated while assuring us; everything was under control. Under control how? Anyones guess. 

But people, weird, fantastical, strange and vulnerable,  fated or ill fated, people like us were still disappearing. 

“A portal or teleport of some kind?”

“Most likely.”

“But how do you teleport a practitioner against their will?”

“Lack of formal training?”

Magicians, for that matter anyone can stop others from teleporting them. Just like avoiding a punch. Yet, even the best martial artist can be sucker punched caught unaware, in a moment of vulnerability.

I’d left myself open. 

Certain powers, and abilities could be used while still shielding myself. But not this. If I wanted the very air and the ground to relay its memory, I had to be open to it. It is easier with water and solid objects. The impressions here were fresh in the air, just like scents on a strong wind. 

Psychometry, or object reading, process whereby facts or impressions about a person or thing are received through contact with an object associated with the subject of the impressions. Rings, photographs, and similar tokens are often used, but sometimes the physical presence of a person may bring about images or visions in the psychometrist’s mindthat correspond to real facts.

I was wide open. Getting a subtle impression from the air. Magic, powerful presence. Not a normal hedge witch or street magician. The power belonged to one being among a crowd, yet it stood out. A volcano of power surrounded by candle flames. These people hiding here or gathered here taking strength in numbers didn’t stand a chance.

The nearby windows were hollow, open to the elements. Old buildings gave infinite impressions, happy to have my attention, chatting in my mind.  This had been a factory. Toys were made here. I moved forward in time, tell me of the last few days I ask. Building begrudgingly answered. 

Meetings. A gathering of people.

 Squatting. 

But also a lizard brain safety in numbers. 

Some sort of persuasion or outside force. 

I relayed the information out loud. 

Traci was taking notes, I don’t always remember much detail after a psychometric reading. The information flooded, then flowed through me. 

In that place, found by Zach’s contacts and Traci’s urban magic I felt I needed to de my part. 

It was too easy. But also a bit much.

I spoke as fast as I could, not sure how coherent, with no time to consider my words. Flashes of visions, scents and sounds that would only later make sense. 

I got cocky. 

I’d quested too freely, too deep with out proper anchor. 

The cement concrete became as if liquid. I began to sink into it. Strangely, I could again feel a presence near me.  The artefacts of chaos and darkness.  

Was it guiding me? Leading me to freedom?

“What do you feel Raven“, Zachary asked, from far away. As if underwater. 

“I am getting impressions. The very air is charged with power and memory. The room is speaking to me”.

“Can you ask it what happened” Traci nudged. 

I tried to focus the flow of information into coherence, closing my eyes and listening. Opening my mind. 

I could hear Tracy, crouching trying to read scratches on the concrete floor. I could hear Zachary walking the perimeter of the room, gauging the type of magic that saturated the air.

Yes, there was something here. 

How did I access it? I asked the building, dilapidated as it was. 

It hesitated. Apprehensive. 

I plead with it, to open to me. You can tell me, I said. Silence. The chatter stopped.

 I failed it seemed. Another dead end.

I heard Tracy and Zachary call to me. Call my name urgent frantic even, and then I felt the power. It reached me. Trying to tell me of another plane.

The ones you look for are here, it said.

Show me, I send it. 

If you’re sure, then come.

There was a feeling of displacement, movement from one place to another, sudden and forceful. I try to take back control, direct the transition. If not, then send the destination to Zac or Tracy.

I felt myself too open, and

With a sigh, I opened my eyes.

To find that the old debilitated dirty building had changed around me. I could make out the vague outlines of the cravens, maze of interconnected lines. Ethereal, insubstantial. It was as if that world had faded, and another had sprung up in its place. In this one, I felt like I was floating. Insubstantial in darkness.

I stumbled, trying to get my bearings. Something jolted me. And then I was pulled, I got the impressions of minds. They were trapped, so scared, dejected and lethargic. 

Where are these the missing people? The people with trickles of magic. The ones that we’d been looking for? They reeked of neglect. 

Almost a hive mind. 

A Herd mentality.

 I tried to go to them, try to include them in my shadow self. Pull them out into the light, to Zach, Tracy, anywhere. But I was sucked further. A blur of motion, like a video playing on 5x speed. I felt dizzy, drunk with emotions, and the magic saturating this place. 

It was time to get out. 

Come back with help. 

I prepared to leave, focusing on Alice & Zach. 

Here the magic was thick, dense, muggy like air in a bog, I tried to stay separate from it. But couldn’t help it. I breathed in. The force of chaos sent me to my knees. 

Damian, I called. I reached for him. 

Damian! 

Our link solidified. 

I could just about make out his drowsy continence vanish. My love was alert and my heart swelled to feel his presence.   

Damian instinctively reached out to me. “I’ve got you Beloved. And I won’t let go.” 

I held on to him for all I was worth, but it was like hanging off a cliff while holding dumbbells. Gravity pulled at me. Damian put real effort into holding on to me. Not psychically trained, yet Damian was a force of will. And he willed me safe. Almost crushing my metaphorical hand.  

For a brief moment the world paused. A standoff. 

Damian tried to pull me closer, to clutch me to him. I yearned to be held. To have Damian hold me. To for a while be safe, just till I caught my breath. Just till I could figure out how to cut the snare that pulled me to parts unknown.  

Instead, I found myself yanked away from Damian, sinking into the ground. Rough terrain, cavernous, with a soft ground filled with crevices, the ceiling to high it seemed to have its our atmosphere. I tried to spring lose, when that didn't work I tried inching my way out. I soon realised, my powers and magic practically neutralised.

And that is how I found myself. Submerged in Nth metal quicksand. 

Wait, Damian said as I was yanked away. I’m coming. I held onto his promise. I jst had to hang on, to survive. Damian was coming. 

I scan the darkness, reveal secrets to me I push to it. The darkness did, obeying my command, albeit sluggish, like never before, still difficult to see. And then I saw. The cavern that I was in had an opening, in the low torchlight the very people I was trying to find, trying to save, were shuffled out in front of me, out of my reach, and I could not do anything. Do nothing but feel their misery and fear.

So immobilised was I, surrounded by nth metal, sinking into the very earth that their terror, panic, apprehension, compound mine. I tried to find my centre, take I moment of calm, but was lost in a haze of their dread.

Until a tall lanky boy, with slimed black hair kneeled before me. Looking at me as if he had found something, he’d been searching for his whole life. And we have been conversing for more than four days. 

"You are different.” The Chaos Lord continues. “You are a freak. In a world of millions, you are all but alone.” 

The tall, skinny dark-haired-eyed Agent of Chaos leaned over me. No bite in his words. He sounded giddy at my oddities. A human with Trigon’s lineage. There were so many out there who wanted to explore my powers, saw me as something more than human. 

But when Klarion looked at me, he laser focused on me, he saw a person. An equal. Even immobile, without access to my powers, it was gratifying to see understanding and acceptance in those dark eyes.

"Which explains my popularity," I quipped, but I couldn't put real zing into it. Something in my throat felt heavy.

Klarion and I had these chats every day, for hours. With no sun, and being underground, I’m not sure how much time had passed. The rumbling of my stomach told me it had been days. I was using up all the stored energy and I didn’t have much fat reserves to begin with. Following a trail of missing people did not lend itself to regular nutritious meals. If I’d spent a month solely at the Tower before this, it’d be different. Magic could only help so much. 

I watched a minion pour cream for the ever-present Teekl, but Klarion placed a saucer before the magical cat himself. 

"You're afraid, but you don't have to be. You're above them, Raven. There's an entire world waiting for you. Untrodden paths you could take. Allies, who would stand with you over centuries. Who would accept you instead of shunning you? Who would respect you instead of scorning your precious bloodline? You could find a place where you truly belonged.”

The first time we had a similar conversation, I’d let it roll off me. Like a drizzle of a water resistant windcheeter. As time wore on though ______

I thought of the Titans and the Outlaws. While they accepted me, others in the superhero community, those who didn’t even know me distrusted me on principle.

“The ritual, Raven do you ever wonder why it worked? That wasn’t the first time those ridiculous humans tried it. You know that don’t you? As a matter of fact, they tried it many times. It only worked once. Don’t you want to know what happened? In truth? Why you were born? No questions about your mother? She died when you were young. Perhaps her death wasn’t all your fault?”

Oh, that hit the spot. He’d chosen to use words that struck hard on the oldest wounds in me, a child's pain that had never fully healed. It hurt to hear those words. It stirred up a senseless old hope, a yearning. It made me feel lost. 

Empty. 

Alone.

"Raven," the Witch Boy said, his voice almost compassionate. "I used to be much as you are now. You are trapped. Lying to yourself. Pretend to be like any other magician or sorcerer because you are too terrified to admit that you aren’t."

I didn't have an answer for that. 

The Artefact, crumbling and old pulsed power. Klarion offered out to me, on a silver platter lying near my un-submerged face. The only part of me that wasn’t immobile. If I bent my head just so, the artefact would touch the third eye, right above my nose. 

That wasn’t a coincidence. I was certain everything here was planned and purposeful. If a little rushed. 

The artefact, identified by Klarion as one of Chaos and Darkness was drawn to me. To my other nature was my best guess. My other side I worked so hard to suppress. The darkness reacted to my thoughts, still oh so sluggish. Magic negated, but for my empathy, that was about it. 

Klarion kneeled before me, eyes alight with intelligence, power and understanding. We are alike his expression conveyed. And he honestly did believe that. I could sense it in him, the conviction. 

Klarion saw a universe with us together, nothing romantic in his manner, no leering or touching, he maintained a polite distance. Still, I saw it in his eyes. The longing to have another like him. A partner, a companion. I felt it too, just not for him. But the time in captivity was changing all that. Klarion was starting to look good. He was tall and I liked that in a man. Klarion and I both had an affinity with darkness and magic.

 Zachary and Tracy; magic users also were not shunned like I was. Not to my face, or Kori would with polite aggressiveness defend me. But I was on the periphery of our community. 

Damian was Batman’s son. Kon, was Superman’s clone and adopted brother. Donna was an undisputed Amazon. Gar was Gar, and he had the doom patrol. 

JL:D had Constantine as a member, with a talent for lying. For sticking the knife in when people least expect it. Then walking away with a smile and a wave before they even realise they're bleeding.

Klarion, gaze direct, no pretence or guile in his eyes. I couldn’t look away, and then I didn't as in the corner of my eye I spied Teekl’s shadow shiver. Teekl moved to join us, all the while her shadow tried to detach itself. 

What in the world?!

The tall dark boy scoffed when his cat rubbed against his knees, picking her up and putting some distance between us. 

He may try to hide it but I affected him. As he worked me, I worked him. Klarion would be an asset to the NightForce. I don't think he’d considered that. Somewhere down the line, I was part of the plan, but now he had unlimited access to my company, and the depth of feelings confused him. They certainly did me. I’d have dismissed his interest as I’ve done with others, but these months with Damian have given me a nuanced outlook about such attention. 

 Damian, who didn’t even know I was missing, to come looking for me. When I contacted him, he’d been sleeping. To the uninitiated our frantic communication could easily be dismissed as a bad dream. 

Despair hit me, and it hurt, worse than the bullet to my leg had a few days ago. 

I couldn't stop myself from imagining what it would feel like to bleed to death, right here under the earth. All the time I’d wanted the earth to swallow me up, and save me from embarrassment, it finally happened, and maybe I will die. The bullet wound healed, for the most part, an echo of a dull ache no longer a hot, burning line on my side. 

I had expected, when I was trapped in earth to feel dizziness and cold. Weakness to fade into a warmth that became perfect, endless darkness. Death. But Nth metal kept me warm and more or less comfortable, while it restricted access to magic.

Azar help me, I didn't want to die. I'd seen the others, poor souls, shrivelled and driven mad in these maze of caverns. What they suffered was maybe worse than death. And chances were that if I took the offer, my demon part might coerce or corrupt me into the same thing. 

I'm not a saint, I don’t profess to be. I, with my heritage that wasn’t always good enough. I've had dark urges. I've been fascinated by those urges and violence I felt from others. Attracted to them. And more than once, I've given in to them. It was a weakness, the demon in me, the Agents of Chaos could exploit. I wasn't immune to temptation. My demon, with help from Klarion, would drown me in it. It's what Daemons do.

“I’ve made my decision.”

Klarion watched me, dark eyes steady, his hand on Teekl perfectly still.

“Karma," I said. "Isn't that how it goes? Don’t want to tip the balance too far.” I wasn’t religious. But I won’t help create Chaos. Darkness was my friend and I accepted my place as precious to it. My other nature and I had things to work out, I may be a monster, but I won’t be evil. 

Teekl licked her paws. The minion picked up the silver platter, covered the amulet of chaos with a cloth and stepped to the side. Awaiting word from Klarion.

"Are you certain, Raven?" Klarion said in a quiet voice. "This is your very last chance.” 

I suspect as much. He was to recruit me, the ancient amulet, the first salvo. Even if Klarion didn't want to, he answered to others. A consortium of hierarchical leadership? I’d never know, I was about to breathe my last few breaths. 

I slumped weakly. Which wasn’t much, the earth held me without a lot of slack. There didn't seem to be much point in pretending. I'd made the call, I held on as long as I could. Stalled for what felt like weeks. And that was that. 

“I am,” I said, putting more power into my words, if this was the end I would go strong, with will and purpose.

Klarion stared at me impassively for a long moment. The pain of my rejection radiating off him, came to me in waves of agony. None of it showed on his face, no change in his expression. He hadn’t been ready to hear, let alone believe it. 

Then he stood up, the cat on his lap moved to his shoulder and said, "I suppose we’ve chatted enough.”

Teekl meows in his left ear. Klarion's expression flickered with annoyance.

“What?” His voice came out tight and impatient. 

The cat mews again, a bossy sound.

“Where is my mind today? You bring the platter. You the items.” The grey-haired minion opened the clothe partition hastily put up once I was found, and left the cavern. The platter with the amulet of chaos was still close.

“If you won’t join us Raven, we have other uses we can put your power to. Not as potent as having a willing participant, but I’d hate to waste your precious blood.” 

I felt a chill at his words. I remembered the feel of Brother Blood’s machine pulling at my life force. It was always blood with these guys.

While they waited for the older grey minion to fetch magical paraphernalia; candles, chalk and the like, an ancient woman brought the platter closer to me. Close enough to touch. 

I moved as far away as I could. Which, embedded in the cavern floor, was not far. 

In a panic, my other half and I call to darkness. Every shadow, of a person, ones caused by the flickering of torchlight in sconces, in the high ceiling, all shiver. Eager but bound. Trying to, but unable.

Klarion tapped his black booted foot in impatience, ignoring me. The corners of his eyes swing to me from time to time defiance of his actions. 

I, as subtle as I could be, focused on the shadows. In the cavern, with only sconces for light, the ceiling and floor between each torch was rife with flickering dark. 

I showed them trouble, I would need to exit this place and go somewhere safe. Surrounded by Nth metal I was truly trapped. 

Nothing happened. The darkness was pulling and elastic. There was just not enough give to reach me. 

“This need not be the end, witch boy.”

Klarion turned to me, eyes squinted as if he contemplated something dangerous. I met his eyes and then looked away, not wanting to see what was in them. There was no escaping it, I could feel what he felt, superior shields, control, all for nothing, Lord of Chaos or not, no one could hide from my empathy. 

Neither could I. That’s why, even though sometimes I was so angry with the world if you could feel what others felt if you could walk the mile in their shoes. How could you wish unto them disorder and chaos? 

Empathy is the capacity to understand or feel what another person is experiencing from within their frame of reference. That’s how it’s defined and I agree. It is the capacity to place oneself in another's position. With bits of Nth metal surrounding me, unable to block anyone, I experienced the full brunt of Klarion’s.

“Oh yeah?” Klarion looked intrigued. “Join you? The NightForce. Be an agent of Order instead?” A scoff followed each question. But he was intrigued. Curious. Always questioning. Klarion was nothing if not an independent thinker. 

I yank with all my might. And I feel a tug in return.

A heartbeat later there was a wheezing grunt, and the grey minion flew back through the doorway. He landed hard on his back. Candles, chalk, an athame - black handled, engraved and inlaid with gems, a double-edged silver blade around 9 inches, and other magical paraphilia strewn about him. He grunted on impact, a pained croak, pulling his hands to cover his head and curled into a foetal position.

Klarion sighed, turning away from me, his gaze leaving mine with difficulty. 

"What now?" Klarion looked bored. As an immortal lord of chaos he could take a lot of punishment without ruffled hair. But when he saw the minion laying on the ground, the corridor open, Klarion’s face went pale, his eyes widened, and he took a pair of quick steps to stand behind me, swiping the black and sliver anthem at my throat. 

Even Teekl, shadowing him recoiled, rolling back away from the opening.

* *  * * I * * * *

I took a moment to assemble my thoughts. Get into the mindset. Calm and focused. One way or another he’d be seeing Raven soon.

Constantine’d been stymied. None of Raven’s objects created enough of a connection for his spells to locate her. 

“Tracking spells are like any kind of targeted thaumaturgy. You create a link, a channel to the target, and then pour energy into that channel. In the case of a tracking spell, you’re basically just setting up a continuous trickle of energy, and then following it to the target—kind of like sprinkling sand in air when you want to gauge wind direction.”

“Okay,” Damian said. “I understand, mostly.”

“The way to foil a tracking spell is to prevent that channel from ever being formed. If it never gets created, then it doesn’t matter when the water gets poured. There’s nothing to cause it to start flowing. And the way you prevent the channel from forming is to shield the target away from whatever focus you’re using to create the link.”

“Like what? What could possibly disrupt the… channel.”

“Not a lot of things. If the anchor in my spell doesn’t match up to an end, no link gets created. So, unless I had something with a strong connection to her, she’d be hidden.”

“And that’s the only way to beat a tracking spell?”

“That’s just in BatBrat,” I said. “A good circle of power could probably trace her. With enough power and proper knowledge. And from the way little Zatara and Tracy explain Raven was pulled. Against her will. She didn’t go into hiding.”

Zatara nodded. 

Tracy with an I 13, Zachary Zatara and other members of the Night Force, yet another group Raven was a part of, joined the rescue party.

The party being; Todd and his outlaws. Minus Kori, but if this didn’t pan out keeping Koriand’r from tearing up the world would be difficult.  

The objective, rescue Raven. Clues to enemy objective and the missing people was secondary. 

“Get Raven, get out. Watch your backs. Pair up and each pair find another pair to compensate for your weaknesses. “

Now they only needed to find Raven. 

“The target and the seeker being in separate dimensions, or multiverses, theoretically could disrupt the flow.” The JLA: Dark member continued. “Magic energy originating on one earth doesn’t cross into other worlds very efficiently—and before you ask, I tried tracing spells of many kinds from places before I even approached you. Yes, where the veils are thinnest, too.”

Damian frowned. “What about me?” he asked. “You were able to find Raven once before.”

The British Magician grimaced. 

I rubbed at my tired eyes. There had to be a way. Even magic-disrupting collars can’t block Raven’s empathic abilities. And we had a bond. A two-way bond. If only he could learn to access it. To reach he as she had reached out to him all those many days ago. 

Constantine sighed as if reading my thoughts, he said, “I suppose it could be liberating to take a leap of faith, to shrug off the burden of proof for the promise of hope. It takes trust to turn darkness to light."

****** II *******

“It would feel like you’re torn in two.”

“What?” Damian asked. Finally, it was truth time. 

“Having your bond hijacked by a tracking spell. Like having half of you amputated.”

“I thought JL was one of the good guys,” Todd quipped.

“THERE AREN'T ANY GOOD GUYS, AND THERE AREN'T ANY BAD GUYS. THERE'S JUST US. PEOPLE. DOING OUR BEST TO GET BY.”

Constantine said in a normal tone of voice. “We’ll need Nightmare Nurse,” he continued. 

“Healing any magical injuries no matter how grave. She healed the Phantom Stranger when mortally wounded by a magical spear.” Damian quoted her dossier. 

Damian stared at Constantine with piercing eyes. “So you did  find another way?”

Constantine hesitated for half a second. It felt like betraying Raven’s confidence, like sharing something that belonged only to her, to tell her lover and no other. But sooner or later Robin and then the Bat family would know.

He’d called upon Madam Xanadu after Raven had told them about the bond she formed with her Robin. He asked for a favour. John asked about the Titan couple's future. The daughter of Trigon, his vanquisher in love with the Daemon Head. 

“The girl told you?” Madam Xanadu had said. “Well, she is a half daemon and the most powerful empath.”

“Is it true?”

“Yes. It is a distinct possibility.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“Blame Dr. Fate,” she told him with a sardonic twist of her lips.

The daemon birds, as they were known in the community, were in for a rough ride. 

***********

I closed my eyes. Concentrated. A direction I felt most compelled to go. Tap into the bond. I tried to ignore the pain of loss and hopelessness. 

My instincts were screaming at me, I didn’t know magic, yet something horrible was happening to Raven and I lacked the ability to find my Beloved. 

I focused on breathing, on the need to be whole again. To be re-united. I let those instincts consume me, filling me until I couldn’t focus on anything else. I needed to get to Raven. I needed to leave right now and go...there.

“I have it,” I said hoarsely, fighting relief. The battle was yet to come. 

Raven had been taken. It was time to get her back.

Opening my eyes I noticed the marking of the circle was lit up. 

“Brace yourself. And be ready. We’re going in.”

 *******III ****

“Constantine!” Klarion snarled. "Kill him." 

There was a second of startled silence, and then the minions went for the closest magical objects. The one nearest the opening, still on his back didn't get his weapon out in time. 

Damian a sword drawn, in the Robin suit of green armoured tunic and red accents, that Raven magicked, came through the opening after Constantine. 

Followed by Zach, Alice and Jason.

Raven’s heart leapt at the sight of him. Klarion, the quicksand, nth metal all but forgotten. 

Damian had taken out three minions in half as many seconds, and he hadn't stopped moving. 

The sword flashed again, and the barrier the minions hastily put up collapsed. The backlash spilling them onto the floor. The sword was not his regular fair. It was sharp and lethal, but the blade smoked as it destroyed any magic attack that hurled its way. The engravings on the side looked familiar. 

Klarion promptly stepped forward, putting up a second ward, while Teekl rushed to face Damian and Jason.

Jason’s held silver colt in each hand, flashed faster than any automatic ever could.  He cocked the barrel one last time and backed off. Damian took lead, while Jay reloaded.

Teekl dogged each strike. But didn’t gain any ground, in-fact she backed, slowly, at a disadvantage. 

The sword whirled, while the guns barked. The brothers were flanking the cat, who grew in size, impersonating a sabertooth tiger.

Klarion yelled in triumph. 

Raven followed Klarion’s gaze and was horrified. 

She saw creatures flood the area. The beasts; a nightmare blend of every creature she’d ever seen. An ape with tentacles for arms, a sphinx’s human face surrounded by a lions mane and whiskers.

Klarion laughed in glee. The Lord of Chaos may have aged himself to look 20 something, he acted 12. 

Constantine only partially successful in holding the opening. The creatures parted, some were hit, most avoided his defences. Holding back the tide, preventing him, Jay and Dami from being surrounded seemed improbable. With Teekl at their back Raven’s rescuers would soon need rescuing. 

Raven maybe the one submerged in nth metal, but the cavern walls were full of the stuff. Magic was not doing well for anyone, not like brute force.

My other half rebelled. We were not cattle, but Raven, she said to me. Speak with the Nth metal. Quick while everyone is distracted.

Ok. Together, lets do this. I focused on the nth metal. Stretching and focusing the part of me that was other. That could communicate with things and objects. Give them a voice. Know their existence. Empathise with their experiences. 

I spied a redhead, at the other side of opening. The Amazon moved faster than my eyes could track, felling beasts left and right. A whirlwind of steel, she turned the tide. 

Backwards chanting and power blasts took care of any of the beasts Artemis missed. A nightmare creature, when it would try and enter their cavern would suddenly disappear. Sometimes I’d watch the same beast that  earlier disappeared, from the opening appear in front of a hard surface, and crash into it.  

I tried to reach the beasts. Communicate. Calm them. I sent Darkness, as my messenger. Convince them to flee. To leave my friends alone. No harm would befall them. Go.

But to convey information without physical contact, usually as easy as breathing, with the presence of nth mental was all but unattainable. 

The area was awash with the sounds of battle, grunts of pain in all manner of voices; human, mammal and bird. 

Klarion walked to me, slowly retreating from continued the magical and physical onslaught. Dami and Jason were relentless. Even Teekl, now the sole focus of Constantine was of no help to him.

As the nth metal ate at his wards, the witch boy was  fast running out of options. Using the athame he’d swiped off the cavern floor he approached me with intent. 

Trapped, I was to be a hostage for bargaining too. Oh the humiliation. 

Klarion brought its tip down to rest against the side of my neck. The room became almost completely silent. Damian kept his blade to Teekl's neck, bound by chains Constantin had conjured, while Klarion did the same to mine. 

Damian, my love didn't look like the same person I'd kissed and made love to. Not that he had physically changed, so much as that the sheer presence of him was different. Features hard as stone, his eyes determined to do his worst. I’d never seen him like this before. 

When he had moved, it had been with a dancer's grace, speed, and skill. His eyes flashed with a silent strength, and his hands and forearms were corded with muscle. The sword's blade gleamed red with blood and torchlight. Klarion's shadow stretched to me, while he edged a bit farther back from the Magician and the brothers who advanced on us.

I took a couple of deep breaths and narrowed my focus, my thoughts, until the pressure of earth against numbed my body, and called to the deadly darkness a few feet away. It was to me all that existed.

Focus. I brought up all the defensive energy my other half had secreted out to bare. We, I pulled to the limits of our/ my capabilities. The cavern had shown me this was a place of magic. So the nth metal occupation was recent. The Nth metal wasn't one note, I felt. It could do more than just take magic.

With all the fineness we could manage, my other half and I, in concert pulled.

Klarion’s shadow jumped, and Klarion’s jaw slacked in shock. His shadow, Teekl’s joined everyone else’s shadow, rushing to her. And formed into a dome around me. The shield imploded from inside me to out. Pushing the knife from my neck. And Klarion alongwith it. 

With the cavern’s help and the darkness as leverage, I’d created a barrier between me and the quicksand as well.

The Lord of Chaos, quick on the uptake hit my domed obsidian forcefield, slamming against it in mindless, shrieking rage. Any one of the hits could have demolished a small solid structure with a bit of effort. 

The dome held. 

Klarion let out a frustrated shout.

The blows against the shield could have crushed concrete within seconds, and I knew I was not going to be able to hold the defence in place much longer. 

Once it went down, Klarion was going to literally tear me limb from limb. I gave the shield my all, and felt as the darkness was slowly breaking down. Unable to protect my magic from the effects of nth metal. 

I resisted the urge to just give up and rest. I’d fought for so long. Fighting my other half. The temptation of my powerful heritage. Resisting the temptation of the answers and acceptance Klarion offered. 

I longed, now more than ever, to just let go. Why did I fight to hard. For whom. Damian was better off without me. We were new, he’d move on, after a while. 

Then there was a roar, and a flash of brilliant light. The invisible force emanated from it, dropping us all like bowling pins. 

I hardly felt it. 

My shield collapsed. Overloaded. 

I felt the release of energy, a wave of fever-hot magic that swept over me in a sudden, potent surge. 

The status had been shattered. If momentarily. .

I only half saw Damian rise, the cat in his hand, rush towards me. Artemis reached Jason, helping him rise. 

The amulet of chaos appeared to me again. It’s stone reflects the light from the torches and the activated portal to the side of me.  

It gleamed! 

A burning began on my neck. Raven’s whole body pulsed, the amulet, in a bid to be useful took some of her fatigue. Nth metal may obstruct magic, but it was a good conductor of heat, and had kept her temperature regulated. 

The stone glinted in tandem with my heartbeat. I could feel where it would go. 

How it would sit, neck to breast bone. 

How it would warm me. I’d never be alone again, the amulet of chaos whispered to me. 

That world looked so good to me. No pain. Never alone. I’d never be shunned as I’d not ever care. Laughing and free. Beyond morality and consequences.

It said all the things a part of me longed for. To not feel. To never empathise. 

I felt Terra’s pain. I tried to ease it. I got attacked from behind for my troubles.

I wished to only feel my feelings, to be selfish. Why did I bow to the whims of the JL? I could take them all. 

Superman is susceptible to magic.

Batman, Wonder Woman or even the Flash - none could stop me. They were weaker.

Less. 

Take this very crisis and question. arms to my magical brothers and sisters creating safe heavens. They pretended to be the ideal above us all when they were less than dirt.

When people suffered, where were the mighty Leaguers? What support did they offer us; Tracy, Zachary and I. Forced to investigate alone? Unprepared, when information was readily available with the JLA!   

Darkness created stairs. 

And I climbed each one, finally I was out. 

I was done with mortal laws. 

I’d stop suffering, the pain, the inequality any which way I wanted.

Or not. 

Their wows, and desires and needs …. A constant cacophony.

I looked over at Klarion. 

Only a few moments had passed. The Witch Boy was  prone on the floor. Sitting up, he met my gaze, then looked around for his familiar. 

He understood. A Lord of Chaos got me. They way no one on my so called side did. 

And the cat could come too. The epitome of indifference, she’d be such fun!

Damian reached me as I stepped off the darkness, onto the cavern floor. The cat that was not only a cat jumped off my love. With an unnatural leap, she landed on Klarion’s shoulder. 

I stood on the caver’s floor. 

Free. 

Our captor defeated, our lover before us, our allies are safe I added.. my other side rejoiced. 

The power she’d held safely in herself leaked out in bursts, like air from a deflated balloon. The magic worked to heal us, absorbed into our remaining cells. 

Constantine, with the caver’s help, stood by the activated portal. 

Cut off from any support, surrounded by Nth metal Klarion pretended to dust off his tailored navy suit. He rose, looking for any avenue of escape to magically appear. But with Nth metal abundant in the cavern, and the way out of the cavern guarded by the NightForce and Outlaws….

Damian handed me a canteen of water. There was a pouch for that in his utility belt. I took it, parched as I was. Avoiding touch. Not wanting to be an empath again. 

The flask upended, every drop consumed, I tossed it back to Robin. Who caught it one-handed, he didn’t approach, nor did he move away. 

He tugged on the hood, face hid, I savoured the shadows and the aura of menace they created. 

 He said softly, “Ah, Beloved. I So love when you look at me just so.”

No no no! No feelings. Not mine, not his. So more. 

But my other half preened like a cat accepting praise that was her due.

Damian just raised an eyebrow. 

I, …..

His features cleared, as if made of glass. Nothing showed. 

Oh! He’s hurt, my other side prodded me. She was very vocal. Especially concerning Damian. Her displeasure evident. 

Damian nodded to indicate the portal, his face open but also not. His expression said, that no matter what she chose, Damian was always going to be there. 

Oh! Feelings! 

Overwhelmed I was rooted.

When I didn’t move, Damian moved to me. 

At the portal his brother, his brother’s team and my NightForce wait. 

I feel their absence, as each person, one by one left my sight and my SIGHT.. 

The loss of their aura to my senses. 

I hesitated. 

What of my freedom?

These people came to free me. They risked so much, so that I may have a choice. 

Damian didn’t touch me. Not physically. Not by look or gesture did he try and hint at our relationship, our obligation to the other. 

Yet. Invisible threads pulled me to him. I sensed his presence when he entered the cavern. And the lack of it, as Damian moved further and further away. 

I sucked in a breath. 

Longing travelled faster than light, cut me to the quick.

Then very slowly Damian bends his back, and with measured movements, Robin wraps one arm under my knees and one below my shoulders. Gently he holds me to him. 

The fastest way out of here is the portal. Damian's sure strides will reach it soon. 

The cavern reached out to me. Confused. Why wasn’t I leaving? Was that not the goal? Should the portal be closed again? And did I know, keeping it open took real effort?

I laughed. 

And was startled by the sound. 

Rusted as it was, it held a mortice of joy. 

By the time Damian neared the portal, Klarion stood up, glancing around frantically. Surprised at not his lack of captivity.

I lay my had on his shoulder and Damian stood still. so close his face betrays. he just wants to get me to safety. 

Undecided. 

The tantrum aside, the threat I felt looming was real. 

“I have to do this.”

Damian gave me no response. But he’d stilled as if he heard me. Jay and the others were nowhere. Only he and Constantine remained. 

“To save the world.” I pleaded. I tried to explain the suffering I constantly felt. ALL. THE. TIME!

Pleading with me, as if their pain and want and greed is my own. 

“You are my world,” Damian said softly. His back to the portal. I heard his words as if spoken into my heart, my very soul.

“Your power isn’t something to run from. I see you.” The unspoken voice of Damian echoed through our bond. 

Silence fell, and the only thing I could hear was my own ragged breathing, the roaring of my own pulse in my ears. 

Eyes were clear, her gaze hard I commit our reserve. The red part of me, that is instinct and survival objects. 

“I won’t do it. I will not allow them to force me to hurt to protect. I alone will decide.”

Fair or not this was the hand I was dealt.

It was my choice.  

And so I made it.

Reaching out to all the despair and hopelessness in the cavern system, the cave shows me the captives. Open. Unseal. Release. 

And then they are free. 

Humans, not quite human, all magical are free. 

The cavern shows me the way out and I relay it in their minds. 

The hive mind is scared to move. Afraid of punishment. The drain of their will is significant. 

With Damian holding me I merge with the hive. 

The is a way out. Look. 

There are so many obsticals. We are so tiered. What is the point. 

The point is, you are alive. Fight for the right!

We will ponder on it, some say. I want to go home some say. 

Slowly the hive produces individuals. 

Help each other. Help yourselves. 

Yes, the cavers tell me, they are moving. I can shrten the Parth to the Portal. Go! I’ll get them out.

With one last look at Klarion, furtive glances this way and that had led to resignation. 

My offer for friendship is real. I send him. I have no expectations, only that you do not abuse my trust. I know he coveted that. No manufactured false promises are needed.  

His breath exploded out with relief. Teekl purred in response. Wariness left his aura as he straightened from his fight-or-flight crouch.  

He’d also revealed an important detail that, unlike the other half-truths shared with, she could actually fix.

Unbeknownst, they were going on a rescue mission.

We, my other half and I, thank the cavern. Only with the cavern’s intervention on my behalf let the Nth Metal release its hold on me. 

Sending healing power, what little I have leftover from what my other half safeguarded, towards the beasts. I can hear their injuries and I can’t not respond. So I unleashed healing upon them. With the understanding that if they met me in battle, there would be no mercy.

There was a flash of ice blue light, a swell of darkness, and then Damian and I are home. 

Where when I go there, they have to take me in. 

***************** VI*****

A shadow flickered across her face. Seeing that others  were so unchanged when she hardly recognised herself,  hurt her. 

Raven hid it quickly. She was a proud, but Damian saw pain, outrage, and sadness flicked one by one. 

He would have to be careful if he saw Klarion. Because Lord of Chaos or not, he would not survive the encounter. 

Raven deserves, to decide her own fate. 

He wasn’t sure who he wanted to strangle more, the agents of Order or Chaos.

Her eyes were clear, her gaze hard.

Waves of power and danger had emanated from Raven and washed over Damian like some seductive potion.

Their eyes had met across the room and an electric current zapped along their bond.

“We need to talk you and I.”

Raven only nodded, and when the night of her welcome home party wound up, Damian led her to the edge of the island. 

The rough pad of his thumb trailed across her cheek and over her lips. Raven throbbed at his touch. She dropped her lashes, avoiding the emerald fire in his eyes, afraid of getting scorched once again.

It didn’t work.

His calloused palm cradled the side of her cheek. His lips touched hers, and she melted.

She gasped out a breath against his mouth, he breathed it in, as she wrapped arms around his him to stay upright.

Azar! help her. She’d fallen under his spell as quickly as she had at the carnival.

But now she had responsibilities. Things were happening that were bigger than her. She planted her palms against his chest, and her fingers tingled to explore the hard slab of muscle that shifted beneath his armoured tunic.

“I have to do this,” he repeated her words to her, kiss  and travelling south down my body. “You are my world.”

[the-nocturnal-writer]

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.

[talentforlying]

"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

[wiedzmacienia]

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."