#i feel like 3rd gif is a bit lighter than the rest or maybe i have just been looking at my computer screen for too long

[kingleedo]

Leedo || Now (Original by Fin.K.L) [240601]

[charlotte-sloane-writes]

1 - A Wicked Little Thing

It’s finally here! Chapter 1 of this Zatanna Zatara x John Constantine fic has killed me for nearly a year. If you love it as much as I do, please reblog and comment. If you want to be added to the tags then send me a message, reblog, comment, just let me know! The chapter is under the cut, the taglist at the very end. Much love, Charlie.

“Anna,” Buddy called over to the young woman dressed in yesterday’s work uniform.

“Hm?” Anna turned her head and brushed out the earbud nestled to the side of her head, flicking a few strands of her black hair behind her to size up her boss who decided whatever he was about to say was more important than ‘We Will Rock You’ on its 3rd consecutive play.

Buddy recentered his balance on one hip and tilted his chin up, an unkempt not-quite salt-and-pepper eyebrow raised as he asked, “That thing ever run out of battery?”

“Trust me, Buddy, you’d know if it did.” Anna flashed him a saccharine smile and shoved the earbud back into her brain, moving on to the next room that needed cleaning, her cleaning cart’s loose wheel squeaking for mercy unheard over Anna’s playlist. 

Buddy scoffed behind her back, another attempt to connect with the twenty-something-year-old failed rather spectacularly on his end. He shoved the tickets to the local college’s ‘Battle of the Bands’ show back into his pocket and whistled to make himself feel like the exchange was done in total nonchalance with zero premeditation. Lifting his ‘Lagheur’ watch to his chest, he noticed the ticking needles of the ripoff luxury watch in a slight delay, taking maybe a half time longer than an actual second. Buddy once saw a movie where this happened to show time slowing down. He couldn’t place the actual scene anywhere, but it seemed funny enough to him that the science fiction promises of his childhood were echoed through the cheap realities of his adulthood. 

“Regina,” Buddy threw over his shoulder an aging rainjacket, once clear now yellowing around folds and stitches. Regina at the counter, a recent retiree with all the looks to take to Boca Raton but none of the self-awareness to stop working looked up at her boss from the dusty concierge seat. 

“Boss?”

“I’m out for a smoke, I’ll be back in ten. Anyone calls for me, take a message.”

“Sure, sure, if anyone calls.” Regina looked down at the answering machine behind her counter, fixing her coke-bottle glasses back up on the ridge of her boney nose. It was new twenty years ago when she last checked in at the hotel, sleepy and dazed children in tow, asking where their mother was. She’d never seen the light even flicker on that machine. 

Buddy walked across the populated lounge, tourists, and locals alike crowding the hotel to get out of the rain and have a drink. Some of them might get rooms by the look of it, though none seemed too eager to book one. Unlit cigarette stuck between his teeth, Buddy pulled his cap up over his head and walked out onto the back terrace. On stiller nights, the courtyard was a beautiful display of soft city nature and twinkling lights. Hopefully, he thought to himself, Anna will have remembered to cover up the sound system speakers hidden in some of the bushes. He wasn’t ready to shell out another grand to replace them. 

The lighter Buddy took out from his jacket pocket should’ve been replaced a week and a half ago. Swishing lighter fluid gradually making a crack in the plastic casing just a little wider didn’t bode well for Buddy’s innate flammability. The wrong swipe of a finger while lighting his cigarette opened up his thumb and Buddy- as he took the first draw of his cigarette- watched blood prick up from the fat pad of his digit, little globes of red sprouting along a visceral ley line down to the crux of the first joint. He’ll have to remind himself to throw this lighter out and get a new one when he gets the chance again. 

“You know,” He spoke to himself, more than aware he was alone on the creaky back patio “this place used to be the gem of Palo Alto, before Jobs and Wozniak, Amazon and Google. This place...I sound like my great grandfather. How did that happen?” Buddy scoffed and took a step forward, leaning against a beam at the top of the small stairs giving way to the waterlogged marsh of a luncheon garden. Before he could even take notice, the roaring gutter above his head flipped on itself, bringing forth a cascade of rainwater and grime down onto Buddy’s head. He didn’t even have it in him to curse. He just shook his head, bit the inside of his lip raw and flicked his dead cigarette into the rain.

__________

John Constantine wasn’t often seen in the kitchen for actual food, an old tome tucked under his arm with blue lettering of an ancient language only slightly obscured by the wrinkled sleeve of his dress shirt.

“Woah, careful, Johnny. You need help?” A young and dashing mop of black hair named Behrad Tomaz bounded into the kitchen with open arms.

John slightly wavered, eyes darting around as his cheeks reddened. He cleared his throat “I’m fine-,”

“-Dude,” Behrad took the wine bottle Constantine had been balancing on a multi-sectioned plate of what looked like saltine crackers, a hard-boiled egg, some fresh smelling garnishes, a small cup of applesauce, a mug of brothy soup with something bobbing in it, and a jar with pieces of fish floating around it. “I’m impressed you got this far with all this stuff.” Behrad looked at the wine label, wanting to discern a year but couldn’t read the letters on the label. He shook it off, blaming his dyslexia for the mess of shapes on the label “You heading to your room with this stuff?”

“Yeah.” John nodded, quieter than usual as he gave Behrad the gefilte fish jar and placed the plastic cup he had taken upside down on to the neck of the wine bottle.

“This stuff looks good.” Behrad looked over at John’s plate as they walked down the austere corridors of the Waverider, immune to the shock of the odd clicks and clangs.

“You don’t have to lie.” John scoffed a laugh, biting his top lip.

“Is it for a spell?” “Not really.”

“Munchies?” John turned to face Behrad, those innocent puppy dog eyes peering over John’s exclusively hard stare. “Thanks for helping me, mate. Cheers.” He managed to balance everything back into his arms and moved into his room, locking the door behind him.

Behrad stood there, perhaps a little too perplexed for his own good “Have a good time!” He called out, making his way back to the kitchen.

Sara Lance wasn’t expecting to have to get into John Constantine’s business again, but the idea of the mage acting shifty didn’t sit very well with The Captain. “What was that?” She asked Behrad, intercepting him before he reached the kitchen.

“What was what?” Behrad shrugged, crossing his arms with a dopey smile “I was just helping John get his food to his room.” “Uh huh.” Sara’s light blue eyes narrowed, nodding along with Behrad “What was he carrying?”

“I don’t know. Some fish, crackers, wine. Had this old book under his arm. You know John, can’t read if it’s not totally silent. He must’ve gotten hungry.”

“Yeah.” Sara nodded, the truth dawning on her with a small, easy smile “Okay, let’s make sure to leave him alone today. He’s clearly got something important to do.”

John took his time lighting every candle he had in his room, turning the lights off and letting the little flickering flames set just the right reverential mood he was feeling. There was stirring between his ribs. He got the feeling every time he took out the Haggadah. Opening the musty book brought back memories, ones he kept reenacting every Pessach. As beautiful as the book was, ancient binding and intricate hand-printed text, it would never replace the one he found when he was twelve in his father’s attic. He remembered climbing up the cobwebbed ladder, his older sister whispering a word of caution behind him. Cheryl never really understood it, why he climbed that ladder. She never understood why he would intentionally lock himself up there for hours among the beetles and dead pigeons. Among that pestilence and dust was a box marked ‘Mary Anne - Beth-Tikvah, LON’ in big block letters. When John’s father, a big burly man whose accent was the only thing thicker than his eyebrows, found him wearing his great uncle’s kippah with the edges clumsily touching his brow while he read his mother’s old ‘Elementary Hebrew’ workbook, tracing the lines of his mother’s juvenile scripture, Thomas left welts on the young boy’s thighs that didn’t abate until the next month. 

Thomas had thought he’d burned everything in that box that very day. He didn’t suspect or know to look for a pocketbook the size of a theater playbook, with flimsy blue binding and doubled text in every page. One side in English, the other in Hebrew. The one thing John managed to keep from that little book was the page-marker. A picture of his mother at her younger brother’s Bar Mitzvah. She looked to be about 16 years-old with boundless ringlets in her hair and a face-splitting grin. John felt it in his throat every time he looked down at that picture. He’d sob repeatedly, from the chest out, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He’d bang his fists, palm-upwards, towards his head as he let the remorse of a stolen childhood shudder his lungs with a force only a soul in desperate need of rest could offer. 

“Hi, mum.” John now whispered, taking the bookmark out of his over-compensatory Haggadah, letting it rest against two candlestick pillars. “Thought I’d read to you out loud this time.” His voice felt raw and crackling on his tongue like those lungs on anti-smoking adverts. “Happy Passover.”

Taglist: @golden-rosezz​ @smol-flower-kiddo​ @beepbeepyabitch @angel-hunter-winchester​ @groovinomicon​ @zatara-zatannas​ @fandomneeds​ @interstellarflare​ @eliotsbambimargo​ @aliypop​ @themanthemyth-thelegend​ @superrezzy00​ @fanficy-imagines​ @toomanystoriestoolittletime @starsscribble​ @addicted-to-dc​ @arkhamsdarkestknight​ @narnian-neverlander​ @thefastarrow​ @tgwltw​ @theliveshipparagon​ @deirdre-queen​ @writing-doesnt-discriminate​  @a-really-bi-girl​ @interstellarflare​ @soarocks​ 

[spider-man-and-i]

master-list 

8. Understanding Power.

(That's what I imagine the dark shadowy tendrils that appear when Eve uses her powers to be like.)

"Yes, before I was unconscious, before the bridge, he injected me with some kind of blue liquid, He never mentioned what it was...so Doc, what's you diagnosis?" I ask Bruce who had just spent the last 3 days monitoring me, intently. "Well, Genevieve-" "Eve. Just Eve." "Well, Eve, through my observations I have come to the conclusion that you have come to possess at least 4 powers, not including heightened senses and healing factor." Bruce says and he speaks slowly as if unsure I will be able to handle the truth. I simply nod and wait for him to continue. "These include telekinesis, empathy, and self healing. That is all we know so far, but more can show up later." He says. I try to focus on my breathing. "I can't do this..." I say quietly. "I can't be like you and the avengers. I'm not strong enough." I say. My heart starts racing and I can feel my stomach drop. Sweat beans at my hair line as I start to panic. "Bruce..I-I can't do this." I say, the words fall out of my mouth quickly almost incoherently.

The more I panic the more pressure I can feel on my body. "Can you help me? Can you take this away?" I plead. Tears falling and my heart racing. I know Peter and the others are on the other side of that 'mirror' watching me. "I'll need another blood sample to run some tests, and Eve I hope you know I can't promise you that I can take away these powers..but if all else fails, we can help you control them, so that they don't control you." Bruce says and my breathing hitches. "No..No you-you gotta un-do this. I can't. I can't be this..Please.." Panic grips my chest and I close my eyes. "Don't pity me, Banner." I say quietly, anger ripping into my mind. "Fucking help me!" I yell. My eyes open and when they do I see the shadows, they have encased Bruce and are dangling him in the air. "Oh god!" I cry out. "I'm sorry. Please...Stop..I can't make it stop! Oh my god! Just Fucking STOP!" I scream and suddenly everything around me goes up into the air. My knees buckle and I just lay thee and cry. I hear Bruce fall back to the ground and while he remains calm on the outside, I can feel the panic he had been adding to mine. "I'm so sorry." i say before falling unconscious.

3rd Person p.o.v.

"What can we do?" Peter asks and Bruce just shakes his head. The blood tests failed, there was no taking back those powers. "Well...We can't change it but maybe we could have someone help with the effect of her powers. Create a barrier or something." Bruce says, racking his mind. "Do you think she'll ever be normal again?" Asks Sam and Tony Stark just laughs then clears his throat. "Of course not. She will never be normal again, Samantha. Her life has changed more drastically than last time," He shoots her a knowing look, "But there are people here who can help her, my people. We can help make sure she isn't alone in this, and that's all we can really do." By the time Tony stopped talking, Sam was silently sobbing. "I'll ask around  about the magic barrier." Tony says before standing. "You should go get some more clothes, I will have  bedrooms cleared out for the three of you. I hope you don't mind but I don't think that your sister is ready to go back into civilization quite yet." "What about school?" "Peter can help, right Pete? When school starts you'll help out by getting her homework and tutoring her or something. You're smart enough." Well actually, sir, I-" "Right Peter?" "Right, sir." "Okay, good. It's all settled then. The 3 of you will share twin rooms, they'll have doors separating you from the girls. Go get everything you will need and your rooms will be ready when you get back. And Peter, I already talked to Aunt May, but you go get clothes and all your school supplies and talk to her." Tony says before walking out of the conference room.

Samantha drove to Pete's house first, it was farther away. "I think it's time we talk about your...secret." Sam begins the talk Peter was dreading "Before you say anything, hear me out, let me tell you what I think." Peter nodded silently, his heart racing in his chest, not sure he was ready for the verdict."Honestly, Peter, I was so mad at Spi-you, because you involved my kid sister in the messed up world of Heroes and Villains, and involving her, almost got her killed. It changed her completely. And I was so mad because I thought you were just around to have something to do, the Spider you that is...But Peter, I can see it, when you look at her. Peter I was wrong to ever think you would knowingly put he in harms way. She loves you too ya know?" Sam says and Peter lets out the breath he didn't know he was holding in.

"So..I can still see her?" He asks slowly, not wanting to push the limits. "I'm almost positive that even if I said no, you still would see her. Listen, Peter, I'm going to need all the help I can get with her..I don't think I trust anyone else." Peter nods. They pull up to his Aunt's apartment building and Sam wraps an arm around Peter. "I'll be back to pick you up in 30?" "Yeah, sounds good." And then Peter was left to go talk to his Aunt. She was waiting by the door when he came in.

"How is she?" Aunt May asked, her worry lines evident on her face. "Still asleep as far as I know. After I called you, Bruce upped the sleeping medication because even though she was asleep, she was still using her telekinesis powers." Peter says, running a hand through his hair. "Aunt May, what if she's never able to handle this? What if she can't ever handle being like this? What if...What if she decides she doesn't want me anymore..?" Peter asks his aunt, her eyes moisten a little bit as she looks at the man her boy, her Pete, is growing into. "If she really loves you, Peter, then I know she wont be able to not want you." Aunt May says, running a hand through her nephews hair. "Everything will be alright," She hands him his favorite blanket and pillow. "You are a good boy, Peter; becoming a good young man. Eve will come around, just help her through all of it. Stay with her, guide her. I am sure that she is experiencing what you were when you were bitten, probably worse, even. But she needs people who will help her. Peter, you are a good boy, Eve will come around, and even if she doesn't, that is her loss. Just don't pressure her, let her decide." Aunt May finished talking and helped Pete gather the rest of his stuff. With a hug and a kiss on his Aunt's cheek, reciprocated with a kiss on his forehead. Peter was downstairs waiting on Sam.

Eve's p.o.v.

"So basically, this man is going to set up a barrier, so that you can train your powers one at a time. We will start with your empathy, then move on to the others, do you understand?" Tony asks me and I nod. There is a man sitting next to me on my bed. He is wearing a blue robe with a red cloak I glance at Tony. "What if I say no?" I ask, my words coming out much harsher than anticipated. I muttered an apology, but wait for an answer. It's not that I was going to say no, more like I wanted to know what they would do if I had said no, would they have done it force-ably? Or proceed while unconscious me can't say no..? "Well we would listen to your wishes." The man says. "But I advise for you to agree and let us proceed." "So who are you?" I ask raising an eyebrow. "Doctor Strange - There will be no pain with what I am going to do, it'll actually feel like the nonstop pressure of having powers, will be relieved." This was something I needed to hear. My body and mind constantly felt like they were going to explode. I feel like I had sunk to the bottom of the ocean, all that pressure crushing my body, oh, so slowly killing me. "I am going to have to touch your body, any part, a hand, forehead anything." Dr. Strange says and I nod, reaching out my hand. "I will tell you all the things I am going to barricade, alright?" He says after a minute. He continues to be quiet for almost 50 minutes, his trembling hand touching my own. It proved to be an agonizingly long process to barricade just one power. I felt a Strange presence in my mind, not the powers but Dr. Strange's subconsciousness. "I am putting away your telekinesis." Came his voice and then a portion of the pressure was removed. I felt lighter already. Dr. Strange was, seemingly able to make quicker work of the others. He explained that his powers made deciding which power was which, almost exactly. Tony had told me that he can help decipher what powers I have, what crazy abilities I now possess. I thought about how accurate he was as he told me what power as now behind the barricade. "Ability to implant suggestions into others self conscious." Another huge weight lifted. "Precognition." I almost felt normal again..almost. I felt more pressure removed but this time Dr. Strange didn't say anything . He just glanced at Tony. "Well, that's all I can barricade. You still have your healing factor and I can't take away your heightened senses. But all the other powers except for the decided empathy, have been hidden. Think of it as being behind a big wall that you can take down when you are ready." Dr. Strange says, then he glanced at me sideways. "How do you feel?" He questions quizzically. "Well, I feel better. You were right about the pressure thing. Thank you...so much." I say. He nods in response. Then him and Tony go out to talk and suddenly I am hit with a feeling of confusion, worry, and dread. I  didn't hear what was being said due to the literal sound proof walls I was confined in, but I felt relieved by that. If it was something of immediate concern Tony would tell me, I knew that. I knew that when the time came and we were ready, I would know what other dread filling power I had.

ch.9