#John Constantine knows what he did to deserve this but he was hoping that someone would give him the mercy of not having to

[r1z3n]

You know I talked about Unhinged Tim & Dick

but I want to talk about Jason and Dick.

Cause yeah Jason didn't necessarily learn from Dick like Tim did but that is because Dick was never expected to be an authority to Jason. (Not just narratively but in canon if we pay attention to it. Dick was never expected to take care of Jason the same way he was for every sibling afterwards)

That means they probably play by different rules. They are probably close in that way that everyone would be like 'they hate each other'.

Dick and Jason probably don't even realize it. To them it is just how it is.

Like yeah of course they will tear each other apart verbally, then flip around ready to eviscerate anyone else that tried, and all would be forgiven with a shitty cold convenience store coffee with the correct amount of sugar and cream.

Oh yeah, Jason knows about every person Dick every killed or got close to killing, as cop/mercenary/spy/vigilante, except you know Joker, because it never came up. Dick brought the others up during a fight when Jason tried to be "oh boo hoo, you wouldn't know".

Dick, what do you mean YOU KNEW ABOUT THE GLOWING SWORDS? Dick sipping Starbucks raised eyebrow of Judgement 'you didn't?' To be fair he only found out because they were watching a supernatural episode (because 100% Jason had a phase as a preteen and now wants to get the new spn memes context even if he is gonna hate it), and well it couldn't hurt to double check. They were Fine and the swords were cool. Now they have semi every other weekend plans for the next few years, and Constantine gets nervous around them.

Jason and Dick just know all secrets of each other, but ask them what the other's favorite color is or some like surface level thing, and you gonna get 'why the fuck would I know that?.

They also probably don't realize how unhinged the other is, in a way that makes them even more unhinged together because 'well if they are like this then i need to match it' until you know suddenly you have villains and goons begging for any other pair after them. Red Hood, they can deal with. Nightwing, they can deal with. Red Hood and Nightwing, and suddenly harden criminals are screaming for Batman to save them. Much to the two's bafflement.

Even more baffling an old boy goon looking at Nightwing, going 'he brings out the first robin in you boy." like one says "he brings out the demon in you."

[talentforlying]

she's bad at saying it, horrible about saying it actually, and she is only thinking about saying it right now because she thinks he's fallen asleep — his arms wrapped around her waist and his head resting on her stomach. absentmindedly lilly runs her fingers through his hair after it hits her, really hits her like a ton of fucking bricks, how much he means to her. does he know? does she tell him enough?

❛ john? ❜ fingers brush over his cheek lightly, hoping he's awake enough to hear her, hoping even if he isn't that he'll hear her in his sleep. actually? fuck it, she's spent so long fighting being in love, fighting being loved, he needs to know. ❛ hey, look at me. i have something to tell you, and don't you dare make fun of me or i'll never forgive you. ❜ she's fibbing if he's wondering, he can make fun of her all he wants — it still won't change what she's about to say. tipping his chin up, she waits till he looks at her before brushing her thumb against his cheek, smiling.

❛ i love you. the bad parts, the good parts, everything in between. i love your smile, your laughter, your personality, and even how infuriating you can be. i love you when you're angry and scared, i love you even when you hurt me. i still love you when i'm angry at you, when you irritate me, and even when i can't stand you. ❜ this is, of course, followed by a small laugh because god — there really are moments when she can't stand him. but it doesn't stop her.

❛ i will love you until the stars burn out, and i will love you even after that. also. ❜ she ruffles his hair for a moment, grinning. ❛ i'm in love with you, just in case you were wondering, because there is a difference. ❜ and because she can't end this very serious conversation on a serious note, ❛ however, if you do not stop borrowing my eyeliner i will kill you. ❜

he is asleep, or drifting — content to be close, content to be at rest. being called a lapdog is usually someone trying for an insult against him, but with her, it's simply what he is: someone to sleep by her side, who will come when called. speak, heel, stay. stir to her touch and open his eyes, resting his chin in her hand and blinking tiredly up at her, wits sharpening to attention as she talks and a crooked smile creeping up the corners of his mouth. he could promise her his seriousness, but she'd know it was a lie; he's always been half a mind to mischief and half a mind to humor, especially with her. especially when they're trying to be sincere. constantines, right? it's what they do.

but that's before she starts; before she smiles at him so sweetly and then drives a dagger through the center of his chest, so precise it can be nothing other than ritual. before the words set in like an open wound and carve worry into him in furrows that can't be stitched. at first he thinks it's paranoia, and that's a part of it, sure: why is she saying this? why now? what's happened? she's too honest to be a distraction, sharing too much to be a salve, ringing in his ears like church bells while he stares at her with single-minded intensity and devotes the narrowing tunnel of his sight to catching every syllable, only blinking when his eyes sting too much to stay open. when his matching laugh, high with disbelief, strangles in his throat so hard he almost chokes on it.

injured prey is always a target for the bigger animals. quicker to catch, easier to take down. she wounded him a long, long time ago, but she did it tenderly, so he let her, and now this is where she brings him to his knees. he wants to say wait. he wants to say stop. he wants to say not all at once, i'm going to drown, i never learned how to swim, i'm not supposed to survive something like this. i'm not supposed to deserve you. what are you doing. please. but you don't argue with the bigger animal. you put your throat to their lips and thank the fang that cuts you, praise the claws that split you open, lay you bare. she's never been anything other than inevitable, for him — he's never wanted her to be anything less.

he just . . . he didn't realize . . . it hurts. warmth is a burn when you're coming in from the cold, and it hurts. it hurts.

he snaps his teeth playfully at her tousling hand, and laughs at her complaint. it's watery. it hurts. ' you love it. ' his head tips to the side as he flashes her a lopsided grin, and if the angle sends something spilling down his cheek, don't mind that. it's not important. not as important as her, the solid warmth of her in his arms, her smile, her eyes. his whole world in a single person. ' you love me. '

and he doesn't know what to say, past that: man of a thousand words, cut down by three. all he can do is kiss her stomach and pretend his face isn't wet when he hides it. pretend he doesn't shift to pull her closer, hold her tighter, curling into her like he's afraid the only thing they can do with this secret shared is run away from it.

i'm going to hurt you again. i'm going to disappoint. it's a painful fact, irreversible, unmistakable: he was made to break things, a tool designed for shattering. but he's going to be loved anyway, and what monster in the world doesn't want that, to be forgiven their trespass? to be possessed of something worth suffering for? what wouldn't he risk just to be loved by her?

everything. everything. everything.

@asteritm / MAKE HIM FEEL LOVED

[stressedoutcanary]

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

Dick Grayson x Reader

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

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

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

•°•°•°•°

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘This is a pretty shitty way to die’ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Fuck you too.’ she replied.

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

•°•°

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

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

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

“Nightwing…”

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

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

“How do you feel?”

“Like shit.”

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

“This is the second time, this week.”

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

“I know.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

“I know.”

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

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

“Why are you so reckless?”

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t need you to care...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you remember the first time we met?”

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

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

“You smelled bad”

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

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

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

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

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

“Because everyone else did.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay”

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

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

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

“You mean that figuratively?”

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

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

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

•°•°

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

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

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

“Dick that’s just ridiculous!”

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

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

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

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

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

“And you know what’s in mine?”

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

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

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

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

°•°•°•°•

[legends-live-in-memories]

“How Did All This Happen?”- A Memoire by one Marinette Dupain-Cheng 1

Soooooo I decided to write this. much longer than the other things i posted, also very tonally different. I will definitely continue that other fic tho. I was just brainstorming and now this exists. Yeah.

 without further ado

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

People Fucked Up and Now It’s All Marinette’s Mess to Clean Up I

This was not how Marinette planned for her night to go. Granted, she also could not envision it going literally any other way. The woes of making a deal with the hell-raiser himself, John Constantine, she supposes. She truly hoped Adrien was having a much better time than her with his cousin in London. After the circus that was the past three years, he deserved some reprieve, even if it was with his bratty doppelganger. Regardless, Marinette. Was. Not. Pleased. No matter how many times she thinks over her plan, recalculates every step and decision, she could not fathom this night ending well for her, or anyone really, but mostly her. And no amount of old Ladybug or Guardian luck could help her. Now, if one were to wonder what kind of tragedy had befallen Marinette on this disgraceful night, a brief history of the last three months could enlighten such a person. Or better yet, let’s start at the beginning. The Real Beginning.

So, things existed. Obviously. First there was nothing, and then, something. And as more things began to exist, as new schools of knowledge and concepts and ideas began to, well, exist, Kwamis formed as well. Each Kwami was the physical manifestation of these ideas or abstracts. Creation was the first, coupled with Destruction. And as more things began to exist, more things began needing to be protected. Thus, the Kwami of Protection. This went on. For a while. Soon thereafter there were Kwamis of all types. Jubilation, Time, Strength, etc, etc, and etc. Now these Kwamis did not linger in one spot. They roamed across the far stretches of existence and interacted with the life they found.

Some Kwamis decided to form a magical pact which intergalactic historians would later dub the Emotional Electromagnetic Spectrum. Sounds familiar? The Kwamis themselves were completely blissfully unaware of this title, lest they would have explained to these beings, Maltusians they were called, that they were not in fact, electromagnetic but more so a part of the Powers that Be. Kind of. But this side-story involves the formation of a few universally known Lantern Corps, and that is a barrel of monkeys our exasperated narrator does not want to touch with a ten-foot pole. Or ever.

Other Kwamis, who stuck close to what would become known as the Milky Way, were discovered by a mage who granted them the ability to interact with humans. This mage— and Marinette was silently cursing his descendants, herself included, for if it weren’t for this absolute mad lad, none of the subsequent events of this night would have transcribed—had bound the Kwamis to magical jewelry called Miraculouses. An interesting side effect of these Kwamis being bound to the miraculouses was that the wearer could call upon the powers of the Kwamis for their own usage. The mage feared what could become of the world if this kind of power became so easily accessible, so he created the Order of the Guardians. The Order was dedicated to training young mages to protect, wield and harvest the powers of the miraculouses. The Order swore to true neutrality; wishing not to impose their will on one side or the other, to maintain balance and to not upset the natural order of the world. 

This went surprisingly well for a few millennia, that is, of course, if you ignore the sinking of Atlantis, the extinction of the dinosaurs, the Black Plague, the creation of the Lazarus Pits, Pompeii, to name a few completely egregious instances—not necessarily in order of course—and well, the point stands that it could have been astronomically worse. Until it was.  

One young mage and Guardian in training had caused the downfall of almost the entire Order of the Guardians. All the centuries of history, teachings, artifacts and even the people at the head temple, were lost to the calamity. Dozens of Miraculous Boxes were lost, destroyed in the fray. The Kwamis themselves were relatively unaffected, being immortal and all, but the magical jewelry binding them to the earth were broken, thus those Kwamis were lost to mankind once again. Only one singular box, and the young mage himself, survived. The new Guardian of one miraculous box was left to scour the earth in solitude. Well, about as much solitude one could have with 17 pocket gods as company. The fact that the only box that survived was missing two more miraculouses caused the already stressed guardian to grey further. But that tidbit of information would be a problem for later. And for someone else entirely too. Oh joy.

But before that sequence of events, aptly named “Marinette’s Trial by Fire,” however, the young guardian had a couple more life mistakes to make before he reached his internal quota apparently. Rather than travel to another sector of the Order on the other side of the earth, this young mage stumbled upon another organization, one similar in architecture and hierarchy but a pendulum swing in the total moral opposite. Yes, that’s right, the guardian found himself upon the League of Shadows, led by Ra’s Al Ghul in his endeavor of global cleansing; by acts of ecoterrorism, but who sweats the small stuff, right? There, the young guardian, who adopted the name of Wang Fu, met his first love Ming Hong and they had a son. The son had a daughter he named Mei. Now Mei was only a few weeks younger than Ra’s Al Ghul’s grandson, Damian. Now with an appropriate heir, and someone to procreate with said heir, Ra’s Al Ghul gained a special interest in the small Fu family that originally flew under the radar of the League. 

Now this is where things continue to go downhill, but not until much, much later in this story. Ra’s Al Ghul, despite his radical ambitions, was particularly good at playing the long game and understood when he couldn’t accomplish a task directly. This being said, he recognized that, due to prolonged exposure to the Lazarus Pits, his soul could not bear the strain of being a wielder of a miraculous and so he waited. Waited until a suitable heir was sired and could copulate with an heir to the guardian of the miraculous box, desiring to create a bloodline of genetically suitable successors and wielders who were loyal to him and his cause. 

Ra’s ordered for the Fu family to have a place on his court and ordered for Mei Fu to be trained in mastering the secrets of the miraculous. And master she did. By age 6 she was fluent in the coded language of the magical text, or as fluent a 6 year old can be in any language, and she had mastered 7 out the 17 miraculouses. By age 10 she was as skilled as the grandson of the Demon Head in combat and could handle simultaneous wear of 3 miraculouses. Her training, however, had to be put on hold as somebody thought usurping the Demon Head was of the utmost importance that glorious Tuesday and staged a coup. She wished Deathstroke had lost more than an eye that day, but a girl can dream she supposes. Mei and her grandfather were separated from the rest of the League and journeyed west. Somehow they ended up in Paris, France. After one too many run ins with the authorities, Mei was removed from her grandfather, who was deemed too unfit to support her. It was a miracle he wasn’t deported. 

Mei was put into protective custody where she resided until she was 13. Recently adopted, and thoroughly done with the plebeians of her daily encounters, Mei Fu became Marinette Dupain-Cheng, daughter of the best bakers in Paris. All was well and good for the new Dupain-Cheng until the start of the new school year. 

She met her grandfather again. And apparently he had a job for her and her soon to be new partner.

Hawkmoth, that bitch, had somehow acquired the two last surviving miraculouses and the only surviving grimoire and thought domestic terrorism was on the agenda for the next few years. Why? Because investing in a family therapist was too much of an inconvenience for local recluse, Gabriel McFucking Agreste, Marinette would shortly learn. 

After dealing with all of that and juggling between her reignited guardian training, and ‘normal’ girl life—because her parents don’t know that she’s a magical girl in the making—, Marinette was ready to sleep for a thousand years. Or commit murder. Whichever gave her enough serotonin to complete her current passion project. But, alas, no rest for the totally-over-it or however that saying goes. Because after declaring Paris safe once again, sending off her brother-in-arms, Adrien Agreste, to family in London (marginally decent but anything beats the abusive prick of a sperm donor), in waltz one drunken John Constantine.

Ah yes. Him. That absolute bastard who doesn’t deserve nice things in life. That guy.

This unpleasantry approached Master Fu and Marinette, who has been regulated to errand-girl in lieu of training, with a job that he proclaimed that only one blessed with magic, and specifically NOT connected to the Justice League could accomplish. Apparently, a group called the Cult of the Kobra resided on Santa Prisca and was in possession of a dangerous magical artifact that had been the backbone of their organization for years. Constantine came to them asking them for assistance in retrieving it as the Justice League could not interfere in the Caribbean due to new UN legislation. It was a mission of utmost urgency for he feared the cult leader, Kobra himself, was planning on enacting a ritual that could bring calamity to Earth. Which is just what the doctor ordered. Not. In exchange, he agreed to add to her magical training as while master Fu was good, he was still young when he ran away from his problems the first time and thus was limited in his magical knowledge.

That was three months ago. Three months of planning, training, and convincing her parents that letting her go on an extended retreat for an undetermined amount of time with her mostly absent biological grandfather was totally reasonable for the seventeen year old to do. Like, come on. She’s almost old enough to drink, almost ready for university and has been praised for her independence and self-sufficiency for years. She’ll be fine is what she told her parents and she was almost able to convince herself of that too. She would be perfectly fine. Right?

Wrong.

Marinette was anything but fine. She was stressed, she was tired and she was abso-fucking-lutely pissed at anything that even breathed in her direction. Why? Well that brings us back to the beginning of the story when everything on this mission did not go according to plan. So here she was along what was once upon a time the eastern coastline of Santa Prisca. Oh and look. The Junior Justice League has arrived.

Purrrrfect. 

Some one asked for a taglist. Ask and ye shall receive

@deathwishy @neakco  @ virtualreading  @f-rget-lt @your-resident-chicken-nugget

[catxsnow]

MY MISTAKES J.C.

Request: Could I request a oneshot for John Constantine with a protege/child figure where they get hurt during one of the many shenanigans they've gotten up to? Reader is in their middle to late teens. Either gender neutral or female reade. Please and thank you! P.s I love ur writings.

Warning: canon-violence, swears

A/N: Did - Did I just post a fic in the middle of the day?? Yes. Yes I did. You know why? Because I’m posting a SECOND one tonight to make up for last night :) 

Alright look, I’m not gonna start writing for Constantine but this was cute so I couldn’t say no. 

Word Count: 2k

John Constantine was insane.

You had been saying it since the start of your adventures with him and the more that you were with him, the more you kept saying it. He was a crazy old fool who kept putting himself in situations what always came back to bite him in the ass.

When Zatanna dropped you off at his front door, he had no desire to take care of you. What the hell would he want with some saucy teen that would only get in his way and stop him from doing what he enjoyed most - liquor and sex. Unfortunately, he couldn't exactly say no to Zatanna, and when he saw just how powerful you were, he didn't have much of a choice.

You were young, and if that power within you wasn't controlled early, god knows what would happen. Constantine had fucked up a lot in his life, but maybe helping you was something that would make up for some of it.

So, he taught you everything that he knew - at least the not so dark aspects of it. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin the rest of your life with tainted magic that would haunt you forever. Life with you as his side wasn't all bad. He had someone to watch his back, keep him company, even boost his mood when he was down.

John faced a lot of hardships with you. A lot of the time he had no idea what the hell do to with you - comfort you, give you advice  - he wasn't good at any of that. He had to help you get through your first heartbreak, the doubt within yourself, hell he even struggled with looking you in the eyes and telling you everything was going to be okay.

He lied a lot.

You liked to consider John as more than just a mentor to you - he was your best friend. Even though there was a considerable age gap between the two of you, you were on the same level of humor and wit. A lot of the time you felt as if you were meant to be at his side. Zatanna finding you was pure accident, but being under John's protection almost seemed too good to be true.

Sure, he was fucked up in almost every way possible. He pissed everybody off, drank too much, his past was horrifying. Somehow, none of it scared you off, and in some ways, you made John a better person. To be responsible for just a kid - a 'I'm only a year and a half away from being an adult go fuck yourself' - made him get his act together.

Between making fun of his clothes, the way he talked, even his rudimentary way of living, the bond you formed was unbreakable. You would never admit it, but you looked to him as a parental figure. A fucked up parent who didn't ask to be or know what he was doing, but a parent nonetheless.

Your little 'missions' would usually leave some scrapes and bruises - most times blood of whatever victim you were killing off. For the most part, the most severe pain you had to put up with was John's hangover's. He had a lot of those. After being in this line of work for only a few years, you couldn't blame him.

Then there was the time that it was more than just a cut that could be magically healed. It was supposed to be an easy exorcism. You and John had done dozens of those which meant you went in there confident. Your guard was down and you weren't prepared for things to go sideways.

Things went bad, really bad.

John was left to make the tough call of saving the little girl that had been possessed, or saving you. He couldn't do both, he wished he could do both. However, he knew if he had saved you and not the innocent kid, you'd rip his head off. So, he had to bite the bullet and watch as you fell to the ground screaming and he saved the girl.

Sitting in this hospital with you unconscious on the bed, wires hooked up to you that weren't really doing anything against the magic coursing through you, he wished he made the other choice. Throughout all his years he had sacrificed lives to save his own skin, why did he start now with saving you?

"Shoulda never let Z to convince me to take you," John scoffed to himself. He wasn't strong enough to heal you, not by himself. His energy was already drained from taking care of the demon from earlier, he wasn't sure if he could do any magic at that point. "Can't tell if it was me or you that was the dumb one, huh?"

He felt like a fool talking to you. Obviously you couldn't hear a word he was saying, but part of him was just hoping you did. Maybe it brought him comfort, maybe he was just an old coot who didn't know how to accept this worry running through him. Either way, grabbing onto your cold hand sent chills up his spine.

"I'm sorry," John's eyes sealed shut. His fists gripped the edge of your bed as he tried to keep himself level headed. The demon that did this to you faced a fate worth than death for what it did. "I shouldn't have dragged you along, you deserve a better life. Not one with me leading you. I've made a fuck ton o' mistakes and I guess now you're one of 'em."

When his eyes peeled back open, a few stray tears slipped down his cheeks. John had faced a lot of evil in his life, he was so used to death and destruction that it no longer fazed him. Guess you made a little weak spot in his heart. For the first time in a long time, John felt grief for someone who wasn't even dead yet. He was scared.

"Never thought I'd see the day that John Constantine cries over someone." John looked up in the reflection of the window. He hastily wiped away his wet cheeks and scrambled up to his feet to see his visitor. Zatanna looked between him and you. "How are they?" Concern filled her voice.

"Needs help," John stared down at you. Zatanna stood on the opposite side of the bed. She placed her hand over yours, the unfamiliar lack of power caught her off guard. "Your help, I'm too drained to do any magic, at least by myself. I can't let them suffer like this, not for my mistakes."

"I know, John," Zatanna assured. Constantine wasn't sure how she knew that the two of you had gotten in trouble or exactly which hospital you were in. At that moment, he didn't care. He was more happy to see her than he ever had in his entire life. Zatanna could save you, if there was anyone out there that could, it was her.

"Let's get to work."

><

"I'm fine John, would you fuck off?"

John never thought he'd see the day where he was happy to hear you lip him off. In all your time together the second that you retorted any snide comment towards him, he would scowl. Now, he couldn't hold back a smile. He had been worried about you, more worried than he was for anyone.

Zatanna was the one to really save you. She had overworked herself to bring you back to the land of the living. It was worth it, she saw a lot of greatness within you. You rubbed off on John, he was becoming a different man than she knew a lot of her life. He was better with you at his side. Zatanna feared what he would become if he lost you - especially when it was his fault.

When you finally made it back home, John hovered over you like a mother bear. He didn't let you leave the house and he certainly didn't allow you to join him for any missions until you were 100% again. It was beyond frustrating for you, but you had to admit you were glad to see that someone cared about you this much.

You were bed ridden for a few days. Too weak to get up unless necessary but strong enough to get yourself out of the damned hospital. John became your 'bitch boy' for those days and you made sure to take well good advantage of it. By the time that you were up and walking, you had gotten annoyed of his hovering.

"'scuse me for being worried," John rolled his eyes. "Don't happen to often you know, you should be considered lucky."

"Lucky?" You scoffed. You hadn't tested your magic yet, your whole body still felt weak and you weren't about to put yourself back into a comma just to see if you could light John's cigarette with the snap of your fingers. "Anything involving you is far from lucky. I should be considered dead is what I should be."

He pulled a smoke out of his pocket, he forgot how peaceful it was without your comebacks. You narrowed your eyes as he lit it up and took a drag. Constantine knew that you hated when he smoked inside and yet he continuously did it anyways.

So, to test out how strong you were getting, you tried to disintegrate his cigarette. Your eyes narrowed with concentration and somehow, it had worked. John cried out as his cigarette suddenly burst into flames and fell to dust on the floor. You felt fatigued by the small spell, but at least you were getting back to normal.

Constantine glared at you. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out another one. Without breaking eye contact, he lit it up and took another breath of the nicotine.

"Twat," you muttered. The petty side of him was something that would never go away - no matter how close to death either of you were. It was who he was. John missed seeing your smiling face in the few days that you were out. He never realized the comfort that it brought him.

Without another word, you sluggishly walked back to your bedroom. You needed rest, as much as you tried to deny it. Zatanna had done a good job of fixing you up but you still had a long way to go. It was going to take time, but you knew damn well that John was going to be at your side through it all -whether you wanted him to be or not.

"Berk!" Constantine yelled after you. A smile toyed at his lips. As much as you did fight and bicker with him, he couldn't imagine what his life would be like without you in it now. Never in his life did he imagine he'd be some sort of father figure, with you... he enjoyed it. He was proud of you.

The thought of losing you to some stupid mistake that he made nearly destroyed him. He took you in to make his wrongs right and he would have lost all of that alongside with you. But, it was more than that. Constantine cared for you, losing you meant he would be losing a piece of himself.

There was already so much of him tainted by the evil of the world, he couldn't bare the thought of losing the little good part of his soul. As much as he hated to admit it, John needed you far more than you ever needed him.

[birdy-bat-writes]

Final Conclusions

A/N: So Fish and I came up with this Dad!Constantine concept while talking about this one OC I created and a few OC’s she created. The one I created is named Maya. The premise of her story is that she’s a love interest for Damian and she treats John like a mentor/father figure since he’s teaching her to control her magic. This plot is basically what has sprouted any of the Dad/Uncle/Mentor Constantine content I’ve created. Fish has contributed a lot and I love her so much. The basis for this interaction is that John finds a lot of amusement in the fact that Damian likes Maya and he just hates John so much. Even though it’s based on an OC, I’m going to write it x reader style with the reader having the same powers as my OC. So now that there’s context let’s begin!

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 It’s the opening night of the Gotham Academy’s festival of the arts. The night where young artists and musicians show off their talent in the galleries and performances, and two people who never show up to these things- like ever- both happened to be here at the same time for the same reason. You. And it irked them to no end.

Both John and Damian arrived at 6:30 pm on the dot. Damian looked so irritated to see John there. Why is he even there? He doesn’t even like going to these things. But then again, neither did Damian. He decided to put his irritation aside and began to walk into the building with John. He had to admit, John stepped up for the occasion.

John cleaned up, did his hair, shaved and actually wore a jacket that was not his usual beige trench coat, all to attend some crummy high school art show. But he did it anyway because it was your work that was being displayed. The disdain he felt towards these events was replaced with a sense of pride he had in you. He sported a grey blazer and black shirt with matching slacks, that contrasted Damian’s black suit.

“Nice to see you here, Damian.”

“Likewise.” The conversation stayed stagnant for a while as they looked around at the different works displayed. Neither of them walked around much. The silence was broken when you walked up to them, looking elegant as ever in your green dress.

“Hey, guys! I’m so happy you both could come.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Damian said sweetly. And that was a rare sight for John to see. Damian being sweet?!

“Do you want to see my display?” They both excitedly nodded “yes” and followed you to a wall at the end of the hall. You cautiously cut through the crowd and pointed. “Tada!”

“That looks amazing, Y/N. You’re more talented than you know.”

“Not bad, kiddo. It’s the best thing I’ve seen from you since that chicken you managed to turn green.”, John said ruffling your hair. Thank goodness you left it down. If it was done up, it would have taken ages to fix, but since you knew john was coming, you took the precaution. He had a habit of doing that when he was proud of you, and it made your day every time.

“Thank you. I’m just going to check out the ceramic displays, you guys want to come?”

“No thanks, dear.”

“I’ll just wait here.”

“Okay, see you in a bit. I’m so happy you both are here.” You chimed. You had that little gleam in your eye that you always did when you were happy, and Damian didn’t fail to notice. He lingered on it. Just as he did with your smile, and the soft glow on your cheeks. He was regrettably brought out of his love-trance by the sound of John’s voice.

“Does that look like ketchup on paper to you too? Or is it just me?” Damian wanted to roll his eyes and say something snarky, but instead, looked up at the painting john was talking about. It really did just look like a glob of red paint.

“I can’t even tell what that’s supposed to be. If it’s abstract, they did a good job.”

“To be honest, I don’t really get this ‘art’ thing. Half of these canvases look like something a two-year-old could muster.” John said, and Damian sighed in return.

“You have to look beyond the surface. Art is about the emotion behind the paint and pencil.”

“Alright, Picasso, what’s that one about then?” Damian stayed silent. “I thought you were an artist; you don’t get art?”

“I sketch sometimes but that doesn’t make me an artist.”

“Ah, damaged closet-artist.” Damian groaned lowly.

“There isn’t anything in that piece to understand. It’s just paint splatters. Half of these can only be admired for their technical skill; there’s no emotion behind them. If there is one, it’s not one that I understand.

“Whose work do you like then?” Damian gave that one some thought,

“I like the classics, I suppose. The only current artist whose work I’ve liked is Y/N.”

“Interesting, so, what emotion do you get from her work?” John had his trademark devilish grin plastered upon his face. He knew Damian was head over heels for you, and it sure was fun to get a rise out of him with that. Damian was trying not to let his mind wander off to the charcoal sketches he has framed in his room. You drew them for him and left them in his room one day. They were all sketches of Titus, Batcow, Alfred the cat and his personal favorite, a charcoal rendition of a polaroid you took. It was the two of you at the beach with the family, and Damian was smiling. It was rare and reserved just for you, so he couldn’t help but think the emotion he got from it was love. That photo stayed between the two of you, and the drawing wasn’t shown to anyone but him. John doesn’t get the luxury of knowing that. Why did he even ask? Why is he even here?

“Why did you come here?” Damian asked.

“Y/N invited me.”

“You don’t like going to these events. Why’d you say yes?”

“Same reason as you mate, I care about her more than I hate the rest of society.”

Damian gave a light nod that anyone would have missed if they weren’t’ looking for it. “What about you? It’s not like you enjoy school activities and such.” Damian looked a little flustered.

“I wanted to support my friend and classmate. It’s important to her.”

“Right, you wanted to support your girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend!”

“Aye, but you want her to be.” John said with a smirk.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t give me that. Its plain as day that you like her.” Damian scoffed and looked down for a while.”

“How did you come to that conclusion?” He tried to play it off like sarcasm, but that didn’t really go as planned.

“You hate people and yet you love being around her. You’re an artist and can’t understand anyone’s art but hers. You want to protect her from anyone who you think isn’t good enough for her, myself included. The signs are pretty obvious.” Damian looked a little flushed but remained speechless. “And besides, she’s pretty easy to fall in love with, I hear. My home phone gets calls from boys on the daily.”

“What?! From who?!?”

“Hehe, and that’s how I came to that conclusion.”

“Constan-!”

“There you guys are! I’ve been looking for you. Art awards are going to be announced soon. Want to go find a seat?” You had just found the boys and were ready to take them into the auditorium for the Art Awards.

“Sure thing.”, John said cheerily.

John smiled and Damian just returned a cold glare.

***

They were seated next to each other and chose not to complain about it. Instead, opting to tense over the fact that they were nearing the end of the awards ceremony and your name hadn’t yet been called. This meant one of two things: Either you were about to win one of the top cash prizes or you weren’t going to win anything. And the thought of the latter had both John and Damian gripping the arm rests of their seats tight enough to dent them. The anticipation was building in all of you, but it flooded away from you when you turned and looked at the boys. They looked more stressed than you did, and it made you want to laugh. Of course, you stifled it. This is what you liked to call “Chaotic caring energy”. And truth be told, these two were awfully similar for a pair of people who can’t stand each other.

It was down to second place. You had lost hope and accepted you wouldn’t win anything. The boys hadn’t, though. They were literally at the edge of their seats, and you swear you saw Damian grab John’s shoulder at one point. Just then, you heard your name called. First place, Y/N L/N, 8th grade.

“Yes! I’m so proud of you!”

“Well done, N/N! I knew you’d be up there!” They could be heard over the Loud cheering from the rest of the audience. You walked up and received your award and you waved at them from the stage. John looked at you with a genuine smile and adoration in his eyes. He knew you were talented, and he was so proud of you for working so hard for this. You had finally gotten the recognition you deserved and the look in his eyes reflected how happy he was about it. Damian noticed too. John really cared about you. Damian saw it now. Maybe he wasn’t such a bad mentor for you after all.

While leaving the hall, the three of you saw Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim and Alfred waiting by the doors. They congratulated you and showered you with hugs. They had seen the ceremony as well, but they watched it from the auditorium balcony. While you were off showing your plaque to everyone, Damian took an opportunity to say something he felt he needed to say.

“Hey, John?”

“Hm?’

“When you said I want to protect Y/N from people who aren’t good enough… I don’t consider you to be someone I should protect her from. You’re a good mentor.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that.” They shared a look of agreement. Perhaps they had finally settled a truce. “And of course, I’m a good mentor for her. I’m the master of my craft.” John added smugly.

“I saw you light your tie on fire once.”

“Who said that was an accident?” They shared a chuckle. Meanwhile, Bruce and Alfred were making celebratory dinner plans, and you were standing flabbergasted with the boys because Damian and John were smiling at each other??? They walked up to you and overhearing Bruce’s discussion about dinner, Damian took the liberty of inviting John to join you.

You choked on your saliva, Tim looked beyond concerned and when John said he’d be delighted, everyone freaked. Bruce looked terrified, Dick squinted, and Jason was about to take a picture while Alfred just stared.

“Are they smiling at each other?”

“No, that’s not possible.”

“Um, they’re walking side by side and talking without grimacing.”

Y/N looks like she’s about to pass out. Someone catch her.”

[bonniebird]

Warlocks and Fairy Princesses

John Constantine x Reader

The clattering noise roused you. It had sounded as if someone was trying to get in through a window. But after laying still for several moments you couldn’t hear any more noises and just assumed it was something going on in the apartment below you.

At least you had until you heard your daughter whispering something to someone in a hushed stage whisper. You weren’t too alarmed until a deeper voice replied. Scrambling out of bed and quietly opening your bedroom door you fumbled for something that could be used as a weapon. In the hall you found a heavy glass vase you could barely lift, it would do. Creeping down the hall you paused outside your daughters bedroom to listen. For a moment you realised if this was something supernatural you stood very little chance of dealing with it safely. If it was a person you could swing the vase their way, grab you daughter and run.

“Fairy princess you say?” A familiar voice said in a tone that sounding so condescending it would have been rude, if they hadn’t been talking to a child. “I met a fairy once, nasty child snatching piece of work.”

“But they’re friendly.” You daughter insisted quickly. There was a sound of shuffling. “See, look at my picture books. It says that fairies are our friends!”

“Well so it does. My bad Love. Must have just met a nasty bugger.” 

Opening the door you spotted your daughter, now dressed in a fairy princess outfit over her pajamas showing John Constantine her bedtime story of fairy tales. You set the vase down outside the door and watched them carefully. You had no idea why he was here but it couldn’t be good. Judging by the red marks on his face, your daughter had swatted him with her plastic fairy wand a few times before he convinced her he was friendly. Good for her you thought bitterly, he probably deserved it. He was sitting on the floor of her room, looking worse for wear and had obviously squeezed through the sliding window of her room.

“Constantine? What’re you doing here?” You asked firmly. They both looked at you, equally surprised you’d snuck up on them.

“Mommy! I’m showing uncle John my story book!” Your daughter said cheerfully. At the words uncle John you frowned. Sensing the tension John hurried to his feet and headed over to you.

“Yes, well it would appear my knowledge on the fae folk is a little out of date.” He said quickly.

“Get out.” You hissed to him.

“Hang on now Love, I only just got here, you said anytime I needed a place...”

“Go back to sleep sweetie.” You said to your daughter as you grabbed Constantine by the tie and yanked him out of the room, shutting the door behind you. “For your information between my saying you could crash here if you ever needed and me telling you to never come back a lot of bullshit happened. Or did you conveniently forget?”

“I was hoping that you would have forgiven me by now. Didn’t have anywhere else to go you see and… well. I’m still hoping you’ll let me stay, for old times sake.”

“Can he stay Mommy! He said if you let him stay that he’ll make breakfast!” Your daughter whispered, having curiously poked her head out of her door, one hand hanging off the door handle as she watched you.

“No. He needs to go. He just got turned around and forgot how to get home.” You said quickly.

“We could drive him home! Mommy has a new car. Sometimes it doesn’t work but uncle Chas says he can fix it right up!” She burst out of her room to fill in John who nodded and looked as if she was telling him highly important information.

“Chas said that did he?” John asked glancing your way then back down at her. “Well I could have a look at that old thing.”

“See he should stay!”

“If you go get into bed right now. He can stay until the morning.” You said reluctantly. Glaring at John as you spoke.

“But he can stay until after breakfast.” Your daughter asked suspiciously.

“Yes fine.” You said as you shooed her into her room, making sure she was tucked in. By the time she was settled John had moved himself into the living room and was sprawled on the sofa watching your tv.

Without saying anything you headed to your airing cupboard. Finding the spare duvet and pillow you kept for guests you went back to the livingroom and tossed them at him. “Cheers Love. I’ll be out of your hair in no time.” You started to walk away without saying anything but paused and turned back, marching up to him so he had to take a small, hesitant step back.

“If whatever you’re running from get’s my daughter hurt John. Do not start expecting me to pander to your incompitent ass like Chas does.” You warned dangerously.

“Nothing will harm her, you have my word. This house is still warded from demons and bad spirits from back when… you know I never saw you as the settling down type.” He was smirking until you grabbed his ties. Yanking him until he was nose to nose with you he gulped and licked his lips, trying to look unfazed by the sudden proximity. You hoped it was as intimidating as you were trying to be but the sappy fondness in John’s eyes made you doubt that was the case.

“Don’t change the subject. You’re staying for one night, gone in the morning and the minute magic starts, doing what it does you leave, taking it all with you. After tomorrow, you’re not welcome back.”

“You’re not still made about what happened, are you Love?” John asked as you pulled away and tried to leave again. “We both had fun, made some mistakes. You’re better off without that bastard I say.”

“I don’t care what you say John. It didn’t affect you. So it doesn’t matter.” You snapped over your shoulder, glaring at him until he gave a disheartened nod.

“Well I’ll be on the settee if you need me. Night Love.”

You didn’t answer him. As soon as you shut your bedroom door behind you, you let out a shaky sigh. Sitting on the edge of your bed you held your head in your hands. There was not a chance you’d get any sleep now. Not with John taking up residency on your sofa. He;d ruined your life the last time he was here. Or rather, you’d indulged him and ruined it together. You’d begged Chas to keep your daughter secret from Constantine and Visa Versa. He agreed, but only to keep your daughter safe. Now here he was winning her over after breaking into the house, casually acting as if you’d never thrown him out six years ago. At least he’d agreed to sleep on the sofa and with any luck, he’d be gone when you woke up in the morning you told yourself.

[storybookstalker]

So if John Constantine really protective what would happen he was obsessed with a vigilante? I love your writing and I hope you have a wonderful day. Thank you.

A/N: Thank you! Gahh I’m so happy I’m on break, I was so attempted to make this a fic but I couldn’t decide on a single situation and if I did everything it would’ve been too much of something

___

He wouldn’t like it

The chances of working together are still pretty low considering his line of work, plus it’s pretty likely he’s trying to keep you out of said line of work on top of that

As long as you’re keeping low, staying as more of a rumor, not gaining any of your own villains, no spotlight, then who is he to take you out of something you love?

Don’t get me wrong, he wants to protect you from everything and anything, but he also wants you to be happy even if it makes him feel like shit

On the other hand... how can you be in pain and happy at the same time?

He understands he really shouldn’t be so invested in someone, but he’ll try his best to rationalize his feelings and it’s the same for trying to hold back his need to shelter you

John has a strong willpower, he desperately wants you to have the life you want to have 

He breaks his ‘no-contact’ rule after you end up in the hospital or at least get a hospital worthy injury

But first, he’ll have to restrain himself from jumping in when he really shouldn’t even be in the area

John starts planning out little meetings, ranging from bumping into you in the street to luring you into a situation where he can pop in and help

He’s willing to wait as long as it takes for you to realize you need him to be there 

Planting “dreams” of him is something he’ll continue to do, a little part of him hoping that it’ll speed up the process a bit

All of that gets thrown out the window after you have a near-death experience

As much as he wants to do things that’ll make you happy, if you can’t handle the vigilante life and then try and go back into it?

The only thing he understands about that is that you need help

If he’s close enough to you at that point, he’ll try to convince you to give up the life or attempt to force you out of it (as much as he can without physically hurting you)

If not, he’ll set up a safehouse far, far away from anyone and anything

John’s willing to go as far as to put said safehouse in a different dimension if he has to

Anything for you, anything at all

Even if you’re meta, good luck getting out by yourself or hell, even getting out with the help of someone else

He knows when you leave certain rooms because of enchantments, do you think he won’t know if someone other than himself has been in contact with you?

His obsession is lucky that he’s so sweet compared to so many other yanderes, more so because it’s near impossible to escape than anything else

He personally doesn’t care about... physical interactions, he doesn’t really think he deserves that kind of attention regardless, so unless you want to get frisky then he isn’t going to force you 

That being said, you’ll probably be alone in the safehouse for a good majority of the time

He didn’t really intend for it to be a punishment or to use it as a manipulation tactic, but you’ll be alone so much and he’s so kind to you, albeit somewhat aloof and standoffish, you can’t help but yearn for the next time you see him 

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

New Beginnings

Summary: 12 years went by since he had last heard of Lydia. Standing at her grave he thought about the many things he could have done differently when a girl joined him, mourning for her mother.

Pairing: no real pairing. John finds out he has a daughter

Wordcount: 1.553

Warnings: none

A/N: This is based on a request from an anon wondering what Constantine would be like as a Dad. I hope you like it :)

Masterlist

Taglist:

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Standing in the door to her bedroom, John sighed as he watched her sleep. If someone had told him only six weeks ago that he had a daughter and that she would be living with him, he would have laughed in their face. But here he was. John Constantine had a daughter, and he would do anything to make sure Hazel would have a better childhood than he had.

6 weeks ago

Death was a part of life. A part of life John just so had escaped. Still, if he could chose to switch places with Lydia he would have. She didn’t deserve to die. She was one of the few people he met, who had deserved to grow old, live a full and happy life. 

Yet here he was, standing at Lydia’s grave. He didn’t even know she had been sick, heartbroken when he had heard that she had passed away suddenly after a short Illness. 

Sighing John closed his eyes. He could see her clearly in front of him. Her short dark hair a mess as she smiled at him. Maybe, if he hadn’t fucked up so badly…

„Hazel!“ Someone called behind him. John opened his eyes and turned around, seeing a young girl running towards him.

“She’s my mom!” The girl yelled back, stopping next to John. 

“Who are you?” She asked, looking up at him. Curious brown eyes much like his own gazed up at him.

“I’m John.” He said after a while. They stood beside one another for a while, looking at the grave stone.

“I never felt someone like you. What are you?” She asked after a while, John frowned as he look down at her. 

“You’re neither bad nor good you’re…. different.” She continued. 

“How do you know?” He asked.

“I just do.” She shrugged. Concentrating on her John could feel her aura, the power inside of her. It felt similar to his own. 

“Did you know my mom?” She asked. 

“I did.” He nodded. 

“How?” She asked. John chuckled.

“It’s a long story but she helped me with… a thing a long time ago.” She turned around to watch behind her back before she got closer to John. He bend a little down to her. 

“Was it a magic thing she helped you with?” She whispered. 

“It was.” He whispered back. She sighed. 

„I wish she could have taught me more.“ She said quietly, looking away from him. 

John looked at the girl. She had long dark hair and looked so much like her mother, apart from the eyes.

„It was nice meeting you.“ He said as he turned around. 

„It was nice meeting you too, John Constantine.“ He heard her say as he walked by an older woman. 

John turned around before he walked away, watching the older woman talk to the girl. Something about her seemed off. But he didn’t have time to find out what exactly it was. 

Sighing John held a letter in his hands. He knew the handwriting. It was only a couple days ago that he had been at her grave, so it surprised him when he found a letter addressed to him. A letter with all the information he needed to find his daughter. His daughter.

A part of him was mad that Lydia had never told him she was pregnant. Another part knew he wouldn’t have been ready. The last thing he ever thought of was him having a family. Yet here he was, already thinking of what to do next.

Hazel was living at a Foster home at this point he was sure, with no living relatives behind. A part of him wanted to ignore the letter, forgetting he ever got the information, carrying in with his life. But in the back of his head John knew he couldn’t. He knew what foster homes could be like. Even more if you were different. John knew that it had to be the girl he met at Lydia's grave. The girl who looked so much like her mother, but had his eyes. 

“She’s a lonely girl our Hazel.” The man sitting across from John said. It took him another three days to finally have the guts to track her down in the many foster homes of the city. 

“A little… unique.” The man continued. 

“In what way?” John asked. 

“Sometimes she sits with her eyes closed for hours outside, not moving a muscle. She doesn’t talk much and doesn’t have any friends. I think she’s still mourning her mother.”

“No one in her family, friends can take care of her?” John asked. The man shook his head.

“Unfortunately not. We tried to find someone but…” the man sighed. 

“Can I meet her?” John asked.

“I can bring you to her, but don’t expect too much.” 

“John Constantine.” Hazel said quietly as John sat down in the grass across from her. Her eyes were closed, still John felt like she was watching him.

“Hazel.” John said. 

“Are you here to take me with you?” She opened her eyes and John could see the hint of green washing away from her iris.

“I’m not sure yet.” He said honestly. 

“Is it because you’re scared of me or yourself?” She asked. John was speechless for once. The twelve year old girl in front of him stunning him. 

“Both.” He said with the hint of a smile, reminded of a conversation he had with her mother do many years ago. John saw hazel smile at him.

“She looks so happy in your thoughts.” Hazel said quietly. John frowned. There was no way…

“I’m sorry, mom always says it’s not nice to look into people's heads, but I miss her. So, so much.” Hazel sobbed. And against everything he knew John found himself reaching out to her, slowly pulling her in his arms. 

“I’m gonna take care of you.” He whispered, kissing her hair. 

“She always talked about you.” Hazel said after a while. “I think she missed you.”

“I missed her too.” And he would be sorry for the rest of his life.

“Don’t be.” Hazel said, answering his thoughts again. John wasn’t used to someone being able to listen to his thoughts. 

“You know I’m your father, right?“ He asked. She nodded. 

„I felt some kind of… pull towards you at the cemetery… it’s weird.“ She frowned. 

„If you think about it… it’s it weird at all. All that is going on with you… I think that’s my fault.“ 

„Can you teach me how to control it!“ Hazel asked. 

„I will try.“ 

Four days later John was standing with his daughter outside of his apartment. The paperwork he had to fill out to officially become her father filled out he was allowed to take her with him today.

„I didn’t have time to prepare anything…” He mumbled, her suitcase in his hand as he opened the door. 

“We can do it together?” Hazel suggested. John let her step in, setting her suitcase to the side. 

“I’m also crap at taking care of myself so we have to learn together…” John sighed, closing the door. Hazel giggled, making John smile. 

“Swear jar.” She said. 

“I don’t have one.” John pursed his lips. 

“Then that's the first thing we have to do.”

“You are going to be a very rich witch soon.” John joked.

“A witch?” She wondered. 

“A little witch.” He clarified. 

“That’s so cooool.” She clapped her hands.

“And a powerful one if you can read my thoughts.” John said, walking towards the couch. She follows John, sitting down next to him with big eyes. 

“Why?” She asked. 

“Because no one I ever met could read my thoughts.” He explained. 

“Really?” She wondered. John nodded.

“What exactly can you do?” Hazel asked. 

“I think that’s a story for another day. Hungry?” John asked. 

“Always.” She grinned. 

Slowly they got to know each other in the following weeks. John slowly was getting used too his new role. Still there was some things John had to get used too. For starters, not leaving his stuff laying around. 

Hazel was a curious and innocent little girl. And John wanted to keep it this way for at least another couple years. 

They had transformed his office to her room, painted the walls and got some new furniture. It want one of those typical girls room John had imagined. But then again Hazel wasn’t a typical little girl.

“DAD!” She yelled. John let everything fall at hearing her call for him. He didn’t even realize it was the first time she actually called him Dad instead of John. 

“What happened?” He asked out of breath, storming into her room. 

“Spider! Huge. Spider.” She was standing on her bed, pointing to the corner of the room. Waking over John took care of the spider, hearing Hazel relieved breathe out. 

“I hate spiders.” She let herself fall on her bed, face first. John chuckled as he walked over to her, kneeling in the floor next to her. She turned her head to look at him.

“Thank you Dad.” She said quietly, chewing on their bottom lip.

“You’re welcome, Hazel.” John smiled, surprised over the warmth in his chest that he felt by her calling him Dad. Maybe he wouldn’t screw this up as much as he first thought. 

[penwieldingdreamer]

The Devil’s Daughter

Thank you so much, guys, for the amazing feedback, I never would have guessed that this story was doing so well. The movie and characters are so great to work into the idea I head. I hope you will like the next part to. Let me know what you think. If you want to be on the taglist let me know, too. Happy reading and have fun.

and thank you again to Lucy @fanficsrusz for the proof reading

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Warnings: smut, slight cursing, angst

Words: 1740

Part 4

“You have” he breathed harshly. “Witchcraft in your lips, my lady.” William moaned, letting his fingers run through your hair. Your tongue was moving along his cock, feeling the hard ridges of his bulging organ. He threw his head back against the pillow, enjoying the pleasure you were giving him, his hazel eyes closed tightly. It had been so long since last he felt the mouth of a woman on his body, thank god his wife didn’t know that his business trips consisted of nightly visits with a lady. “I’ll make my…mhmm… heaven in a lady’s lap.” he quoted his own play Henry VI holding tightly to your tresses.

All too soon the coil in his belly exploded and he felt his seed shoot into your mouth, your tongue lapping up everything you could as you still slowly bobbed your head. And yet looking down at you weren’t Williams familiar eyes. No, those were a deep brown, the throes of satisfaction still evident in them.

Johnathan gasped loudly, not from bliss but from the shock at seeing you, in front of him. The sight you offered, bared for all to see got him aroused again, though he didn’t know if it was just his imagination or if it was real. He remembered taking Midnite’s advice and went to sleep, trying to get as much downtime as possible, so what was he doing here with you quoting William Shakespeare to the daughter of the devil.

Swallowing the last bit of his cum, you wiped along your lower lip catching the evidence of his pleasure. Crawling over his body you lowered yourself on his lap, feeling his length harden again. Your hips moved involuntarily, circling the head of his cock before it slipped into your warm channel. The veins stroking your moist heat as you moved your body up and down, using your hands on his shoulders for leverage.

Constantine swallowed another cry of pleasure as you writhed above him, putting his hands on your hips to help you move for him. Leaning down you laid your lips over his, snaking your tongue in his mouths in a love filled kiss when suddenly the door to his chambers were thrown open.

Wide eyed you both turned to the entrance. Looking over your shoulder you saw Balthazar standing next to a woman holding onto a baby. A girl by the looks of it.

“Well, well Y/N, I didn’t know you liked your lovers to be married and already with child.” he smirked, leaning against the wall opposite the bed.He had hated the man with a passion and now it was time for a payback

Shocked you looked down at your lover, seeing the disbelief in his eyes.

“William?” the woman asked avoiding looking at you both as she shielded the child from the sight of your bare bodies.

“You never told me, Will.” you whispered so softly that he had to strain and John knew that it was going to be ugly, although he wasn’t sure why you called him Will. He recognized Balthazar, but that scum bag was dead, blown up when he tried to prevent Mammon from entering the world of the living.

Hastily you got up, wrapping the sheet around you hoping that at least one tiny fragment of dignity was left to you. “The course of true love never did run smooth.” you lamented, tears glistening in your eyes as your lover turned to you. “I hope you will rot in hell, William Shakespeare.”

“Y/N.” he called, getting out of the bed, not caring for his body bared to his wife and the demon of hell. You swiftly passed by the blonde woman, apologizing quietly. “Y/N, wait!” John cried again, his hand outstretched hoping to reach you, but all he heard was the anguished howl of your broken heart.

Constantine woke with a loud scream, sitting up in his bed. Sweat beads running from his forehead down to his neck, making him shiver in the cool air of his apartment. He wasn’t sure what had pulled him out of this god forsaken dream but he had a feeling that it was something important.

Suddenly his phone was ringing, a very common occurrence with being an occult detective and exorcist but still he’d like his freedom, just this once. John got up, not used to the shrill sound after such a vivid dream, still feeling the effects of your body on top of his own. Making his way to the kitchen table he reached out for the phone, asking himself when he had just saved the world from Mammon, why he was called upon again?

“This better be important.” he growled into the receiver listening to the harsh breathing on the other end of the line

“John?” He knew that voice.

Staring at the display, disbelief crossed his features as he heard the voice of his dead apprentice, well, friend to be honest. It couldn’t be, he was there when the young man had died from Gabriel’s assault.

“John?” Chas repeated again. “A-Are you there. It’s kind of p-pouring outside and I’m really c-cold right now.”

Clearing his throat, the warlock put the phone back to his ear, finally giving the young man an answer. “Chas? W-What, how?” Swallowing the lump that had build in his throat he tried to form sentences that made sense and not just stutter on the other end. “Where are you?”

“Um, to be honest, I’m not really sure.” he answered and Constantine could already picture him scratching his head. “I remember the hospital. Then there was fire and darkness. I saw a woman there.” he stopped taking a deep breath. “She pushed me down, a-and I was falling but then I woke up in this alley.”

Not sure how to reply, John rubbed his temples, the urge for getting that cigarette he desperately longed for, rising by the second. “Okay, I’ll get you, Chas. But you gotta explain what’s been going on.”

“Uh, sure, John, whatever you want.” With that Constantine ended the call and went to the kitchen table in the middle of his grand apartment. His keys, talisman and gum laid there. Since he had stopped smoking, the exorcist was going through packages of chewing gum like he went through his cigarettes, only positive thing was he wouldn’t die of lung cancer anymore.

»¤«

Another anguished cry filled the back alley though none of the humans walking past the entrance cared enough to investigate. Whoever it was was probably going to die soon anyway, so why should they bother with anybody but themselves.

Your arms wrapped around your naked body, you rocked back and forth. Goosebumps had spread all over, the skin even more pebbled than any normal human’s flesh. The tears were falling rapidly, mingling with the pouring rain as you remembered the day your heart had been shattered into millions of pieces, not even the last part of your mother’s light had survived. Now with being human theses emotions were coming back to haunt you, the wounds on your back still oozing blood that the water falling from the sky washed away.

“Why does it hurt so much!” you cried out, burying your face in your hands. The action only slightly stifled the pained moans escaping your mouth. “Why am I deserving of this!” your voice had grown hoarse from your screams, now only a whisper on your lips. “I only ever served my father.”

Shivering from the cold surrounding you, you hoped there would be a fast way to die, no matter where you ended up because nothing compared to the pain you were feeling now. Mammon could torture you in all his sadistic ways but it would be a relief for your soul to leave this casket made of flesh and bone.

Laying on your back, your arms spread like your former wings, your eyes turned to the weeping heaven, waiting for your final breath to leave your lungs you heard voices coming from the entrance of the alley. Somehow someone still had a heart and had heard your cries.

But shouldn’t this be the end?

Blinking away the droplets of water that were stinging your eyes, you could make out the shadow falling over you. Lightning struck and you saw dark eyes watching you with concern. It was a man, definitely, dressed in a black suit and his hair clinging to his forehead from the pouring rain as he knelled next to your body.

“John!” a voice cried behind you, making the man turn away from you.

Was this Constantine? The one you needed to save and try to redeem yourself?

“What is it, Chas?” he nearly growled looking at his apprentice over your head.

The young man pointed down at you, shock and disbelief evident in his gray eyes. “This is her.” he said, kneeling next to you. His cheeks were tinted in a pink hue, either from the cold or your bare body, you didn’t know. “It’s the woman I told you about.”

Rolling his eyes, the exorcist shed his suit jacket. With sure movements he pulled it of and laid it over your body, hoping to give you back some semblance of warmth and shielding you from the rain. “I know who she is, Chas.” he muttered agitation coloring each word he spoke. John put his arms under your shoulders, pulling you up in his arms and leaning you against his own body. “She is the daughter of Satan, although I’m not sure why she is here.”

“Well her wings are missing.” the apprentice said as he saw the weeping holes on your back. “I don’t think she would shed them like other animals shed their skin.”

Turning his eyes back to you, you could see a small sliver of kindness reflect in them before it was gone. Could you be save with him? The warlock and exorcist John Constantine?

“We need to get her out of the rain or she’ll die just like us. She is human now.” he stood up with ease, your body still supported in his arms as he made his way out of the alley. His only hope was that you would survive the night and not succumb to this kind of death.

He wanted answers and he wanted them coming from your lips.

Part 5

Taglist

@fanficsrusz @ladyreapermc @meetmeinthematinee @toomanystoriessolittletime @a-really-bi-girl @pinkzsugar​ @ficsnroses​ @lunaeminxxx

[raywritesthings]

A Father’s Faith

My Writing Fandom: Arrow, The Flash Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Characters: Laurel Lance, Quentin Lance, Oliver Queen, Thea Queen, Mari McCabe, Team Arrow, Team Flash, Damien Darhk, Nyssa al Ghul, Earth 2 Laurel Lance Summary: Quentin Lance refuses to accept his daughter's death, leading him and her team to recruit a number of their friends with surprising results. *Can be read on my AO3 and FFN, links are in my bio*

Quentin tried not to show it, but he was crushed by the news Nyssa had given him when she’d come to offer her condolences. How could there no longer be a Lazarus Pit when he needed it most?

He didn’t blame the woman. Sara had been frightening when she had first emerged from it. They’d all been so worried she would never really recover, hard as Laurel tried to reach her. Without that magician friend of Oliver’s, who knew if she would be out there right now figuring out her life and how best to help people? Some people might say he was crazy to want to try to risk all of that again on his older daughter.

But that was the thing. Loving someone was a risk, a risk Laurel had always taken with the people around her. Even when it didn’t pay off. Especially when. After all the risks she’d taken on him, how could he not do the same?

Without this Pit in Nanda Parbat, he just had to find another way. Their world had become filled with magic and all kinds of impossible science. In all of that, there had to be something.

Quentin didn’t know everything the others did. He may have been a resource and ally they called on when needed, but he knew there were things he was simply kept out of the loop on. But he had eyes and ears, and a mind sharp for detail. He knew asking that friend of Laurel’s in Detroit wouldn’t pay off; her magic didn’t work that way. The guy in Central City supposedly could recover from devastating injury in record time, but that ability didn’t seem to extend beyond himself or beyond the grave to his knowledge. The magician called Constantine could recall souls, but was that to living bodies only? He needed a way to heal her, to rejuvenate the body before they could expect that kind of spiritual aid. Something like the Lazarus Pit even if he’d never seen it before.

And then it hit him where he’d seen something like it.

Darhk. In his office, he had kept a pitcher. Quentin had seen it, and Darhk had noticed. He’d boasted it was a souvenir from Nanda Parbat, something to keep him young, as he’d put it. Hadn’t Darhk been connected to the League? That was how he’d known what had happened to Sara during her resurrection. What if the water he had was the same as that Pit?

He had to get his hands on it. If nothing else, the bastard shouldn’t have it anyway. The trouble was, he knew he couldn’t possibly get into Damien’s office, steal one of his most highly-guarded possessions and get out with it alive. At least not on his own.

It was a good thing he knew a whole team of vigilantes.

Oliver was the first one to answer his calls and agreed to meet him down in the base. Quentin paced as he waited. Over the years, they’d had their disagreements, but he was confident he could convince the younger man. And if Oliver was on board with the idea, the rest would follow. He’d be that much closer to having his girl back.

Oliver arrived, and Quentin wasted no time. “I’ve figured out how we can get her back. It’s risky, but it’s the best we got.”

“If this is about the copycat—”

“It’s not. This is about Laurel. I saw, in Darhk’s office, he’s got this water that works just like that Pit she used for Sara.”

“Lazarus water,” said Oliver, a spark lighting in dulled eyes. “Ra’s said when Damien left the League, he took some with him.”

“Yeah, well I know where he keeps it. If we can just get it we can, I don’t know. There’s not enough to submerge a body, but if we could get it into her system somehow—”

“That’s assuming we can get past Darhk and his men,” Oliver reminded him. “I still don’t know how to beat him.

“Well, what about that friend of yours. Uh, Mari. Didn’t she beat him last time?”

“I can’t ask her for help every time,” he told him. “She did me a favor already by coming in the first time.”

“Then I’m calling in a favor for Laurel. She went out and helped her before. You’re telling me Mari wouldn’t want this lunatic taken down anyway?”

“It’s not her responsibility.”

“And neither is it yours. You know? It’s supposed to be the police’s job to bring in criminals. But we needed help, even if we couldn’t admit it at first.” He gave a shake of the head; still referring to himself as police. Old habits. “It’s not wrong to ask for help. Better to do so before you’re in over your head.”

Oliver considered that silently. Then he looked up and asked, “Even if we defeat Darhk and secure the water, there’s no telling if it would work for a resurrection.”

“Maybe not, but I’m willing to try.”

“Quentin, I just don’t know if I am.”

He scoffed. “You’re kidding me. After all the times she stuck her neck out for you.”

“That’s not what this is about. If we get this wrong, we’d be bringing her back to some kind of half-life.”

“Well then that friend of yours gets her soul back, right? Just like with Sara.”

“He’s out of contact. There’s no telling when or if he gets back, and in the meantime she would be...I couldn’t do that to her.” He shook his head, and for the first time Quentin noticed something past his own grief; he’d assumed, because Oliver wasn’t outwardly spiraling like the rest of them seemed to be, that he was coping the best of all of them. Yet he could see now that his face was screwed up like he was barely holding in a storm. “Not to her.”

“What did she say to you?” The question he’d been longing to ask slipped out. Oliver’s expression shuttered. Not in a way that left him looking angry, just...broken. He’d gotten what might be the last minutes with Quentin’s daughter — a part of Quentin envied him for it — and those minutes seemed to have changed something in him.

Oliver shook his head, shoulders hunching. He couldn’t or wouldn’t share. Fine.

Quentin took a step closer. “Look, you told me once you love my family,” he reminded the other man. “Well, now’s your chance to prove it.”

Oliver’s hand curled tight into a fist, and for a wild second Quentin thought he might be about to hit him. But instead, the archer swallowed once and said, “You’re right. You- you all deserve better than just words from me. She deserves better. Where was Darhk keeping his supply?”

—-

Oliver felt slightly out of his own head when he placed the call to their ally in Detroit. Quentin’s plan, the hope that Laurel might not be as out of reach as they all thought, it had to go to the back of his mind if he was going to concentrate on the fight ahead.

Mari answered and he briefly explained the situation. How the idol had come back together and how Malcolm had stolen it as well as the betrayal from Andy. Laurel’s death at Darhk’s hand. The need to stop him again.

“I wouldn’t ask another favor of you so soon, but we’re...we’re struggling here,” he admitted, hearing the exhaustion in his own voice. None of them were doing well without Laurel; over the months, she had become the glue that had held them all together it seemed, and he wondered if that, too, was something he’d taken for granted.

“It’s not a favor, Oliver,” Mari said, her tone hardening into steel as she added, “That bastard is going down permanently.”

He didn’t tell her the rest of the plan. He didn’t tell the others, either. There was still such a chance that it wouldn’t work. Getting their hopes up would only distract them from defeating Darhk, and the last thing they needed was distractions when going up against him. He already felt guilty enough asking Thea to postpone her vacation with Alex, but they would need all hands on deck for this one.

Oliver knew the others were getting nervous all the same. Quentin announced they were postponing Laurel’s funeral. He’d cited waiting for Sara as the reason.

“You’ll be waiting a long time, then,” Felicity muttered under her breath.

Oliver convinced John that the best way to do right by Laurel in the meantime was to help catch the copycat who had stolen her suit and device. Oliver was forced to unmask Evelyn Sharp in front of a crowd, denouncing her as a fraud. The media picked up the story; eyewitness accounts of the Black Canary easily confirmed she hadn’t been a teenager even at the start, and Evelyn had had to make crude hem adjustments to make Laurel’s longer pant legs and jacket sleeves fit her smaller frame.

She’d been taken in by social services who were treating her case as one of severe emotional and mental trauma from the loss of her parents. Her status as a minor would likely save her from jail time. Oliver sent a message to Cisco, hoping the engineer might be able to restore Laurel’s costume to its original state. He excused it as sentiment to the team.

He didn’t tell them he held the slimmest hope that the suit might be needed again.

By the time Mari could join them in Star, Darhk had set his sights on his next target: an ARGUS transport. Diggle was inside with Lyla and Sara to better protect their family. He and Thea were approaching the HIVE members and Darhk from behind on a motorcycle, his little sister letting go of him every so often to fire off an arrow at their opponents.

Just as he watched the truck doors open, they all heard the screech of an eagle as Vixen swooped into the fray. She grabbed Darhk by the shoulders and threw him to the ground where he went rolling. It took him some time to rise off the ground, and he did so shakily, a scrape on one side of his face.

“You and Spartan occupy the Ghosts!” Oliver ordered Thea as he stopped the bike, running to Mari’s aid.

The two magic users were facing off, Darhk’s usual tricks no match this time for the protection Mari got from her amulet. He wondered if her proximity to it versus Darhk not having his idol on him had something to do with it as well, but dismissed the thought as Darhk moved into the physical offensive.

Having been trained by the League, he was a threat even without his powers. Mari was barely able to get her guard up and was losing ground. But Oliver had completed that same training. He had something more he was fighting for, as well. Something greater than delusions of power and conquest.

Darhk raised a hand, but Oliver caught his arm, twisting it with a snap. Darhk gave a sharp cry and sank to one knee, breathing in deeply. “Oh, that’s good. Didn’t know you had it in you. Hero type and all that.”

“Arrow,” said Vixen, a warning note in her voice.

“I never tried to be a hero when I started all this,” Oliver said, watching the man at his feet. His arm would heal, he’d go back to plotting, and they would do this all over again. It would never end, with Oliver losing more and more pieces of himself along the way. William, Laurel...even if they could get her back, would it really be the same? “Not until someone believed I could be. You killed her.”

Darhk’s breath quickened as he withdrew an arrow. He pushed up onto his feet, his other arm striking out—

The arrow went in under his arm, stabbing through the material of his suit. Darhk stiffened with a ragged gasp.

“You could have gone to prison. You could have served your time or broken out and simply left this place. But you didn’t.” Darhk’s knees were giving out again, and Oliver brought him down to the ground. Then he ripped the arrow out as he stood.

“You’re not going to pass on a message to anyone. But I want you to think of her in your last moments. I want you to know she wasn’t just a pawn in your game of control over this city. And I want you to know that’s why I’m not the hero you thought I was.”

Darhk’s eyes had gone wide as he hemorrhaged. There was no way of knowing if he’d even heard or understood. Oliver watched solemnly, silently, as the light left his eyes and his breath stopped coming.

When he looked back around, Mari’s eyes were on the ground. “Would Laurel have wanted that?”

Oliver couldn’t answer right away. His impulse was to say no; Laurel had believed in the changes he had tried to make in himself, in the light she felt he still had. Yet he could see her flashing eyes and pointed words every time they argued about Merlyn, who had hurt and threatened their loved ones time and again. Was this really so different?

“I don’t know,” he said finally. “I’ll have to ask her.”

Mari looked up sharply, her confusion plain, but Lyla was walking over to join them. Beyond her, he could see Thea and John finishing tying up the Ghosts they had managed to take down.

“Thank you all for your help,” Lyla said. “If Darhk had gotten ahold of Rubicon, he could have launched a nuclear apocalypse.”

“Then I take back my objections,” Mari stated swiftly, as they all eyed the body of the man who had nearly taken away the world as they knew it. “We should still secure his idol to make sure it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

“We’ll take Captain Lance,” Oliver told her. “There’s something in Darhk’s office he was hoping to find.”

They caught the few Ghosts left to guard the place off guard with a sudden attack. Four vigilantes — as grateful as Oliver was for her help, he felt a pang in his heart every time he looked and didn’t see the teammate he wanted to — with a former police captain for backup. Without their leader, they were disorganized and overwhelmed.

Mari was quick to get possession of the idol sitting inside a cabinet, but Quentin only had eyes for a pitcher.

“It’s here. This is it.” He lifted it down with trembling hands, but his grip was secure. The both of them peered inside to see the water that sloshed around. Oliver couldn’t describe it; all he knew was that it was no normal water.

Now that it was in their possession, it felt real.

“Uh, guys?” Asked Thea. “What do we need that for?”

Oliver turned to his team — the ones that were present, though he knew Felicity was likely listening through the comms — and drew in a breath. “There’s something I haven’t told you.”

Sure enough, there was a scoff heard through their ear pieces. “Isn’t there always?”

Oliver grimaced.

—-

Thea was having trouble wrapping her mind around all of this. The Lazarus Pit wasn’t as totally destroyed as they’d thought it was. Or at least, the water wasn’t.

Was it enough? If it was, how did they get her soul back with Constantine away? If they did that, how did they get some of the Lotus to cure her bloodlust? Thea didn’t want her friend to suffer they way she had for so long before she’d received the cure, but she also needed her friend back badly. They all did.

Mari shook her head as they stood in the base, Laurel’s closed casket sitting on a table. “I don’t see how this works. You said the last two times the person was submerged?”

“We’re thinking if we feed it directly into her system,” Quentin explained. He was energized, almost manic.

“But how does it get around?” Asked Thea. “I mean, don’t you need a working heart to pump the blood and other stuff?”

“Very scientific,” Mari remarked. Thea made a face. What, she’d barely gone to high school. “But yeah, I think she’s right. You’d have to get her heart restarted first.”

“There’s machines or something, aren’t there?” Oliver looked around at them all, and Thea hated to see him hurting. It was clear he wanted this to work, maybe needed it to. When Felicity had been injured around the holidays, he’d turned angry and vengeful. Without Laurel...it was like he was desperately searching for hope in a place she wasn’t sure still existed. But if Laurel could still come back to them, if they could just figure out how—

“I can’t believe I’m going to say this,” Felicity abruptly cut in. “But Barry can restart hearts with his powers. I don’t know if it’d be enough for someone who’s been dead for over a week, but.” She shrugged.

“If we’re gonna do this, we probably need STAR Labs’ help anyway,” said John. “They’d have the science.”

Oliver nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, we’ll need to do that.”

Mari tagged along. “I’m the best expert in magic you have right now. If we're doing this to a friend of mine, I want to be there in case it goes sideways,” she stated firmly.

It took them another week before they could head to Central City. They needed to make sure Ruve and her daughter left town along with the remnants of HIVE. Once the woman resigned, it was safe enough to leave the city unwatched for at least a couple days.

Thea followed the group right into a central hub of STAR Laboratories without so much as a sign-in sheet. Barry and his team seemed to be in the middle of celebrating a recent victory and looked startled to see them all there.

“Oliver!” In an eye-blink, the speedster was standing in front of them all. “What’s going on? We heard on the news, have they set a date for…” he trailed off as his eyes landed on the casket Mari and John carried — Mari using the strength of a gorilla to help that along. They probably did look like a procession, the way they were all standing around it. “Uh…”

“Barry, we need your help,” Oliver said simply.

Team Flash was filled in on the details. Thea could see the same mix of hope and doubt on their faces that was in her own heart.

“You really think this will work?” Asked Cisco. “I mean, there’s been some time.”

“We’re not ready to give up yet,” Quentin stated. “Now are you helping us or not?”

“Of course. We told Harry, we loved — or love Laurel,” Caitlin said. “I’ve just never overseen this kind of blend of science and magic.”

“Magic doesn’t exist,” a dark-haired man in glasses said dismissively.

Mari gave him a look. “Oh?”

“Magic is simply science that has not been explained or explored to its fullest,” the man maintained. “These chemicals in this water have restorative properties. If the properties were broken down, we’d understand them.”

“We don’t need to understand them. We just need Laurel back,” Thea said. “Can we do that?”

“If what you say about the water is true, then yes. Though, given the time that has passed since the heart stopped pumping blood, we might want to do an additional transfusion,” the man said.

“But dad,” a girl with brown hair who’d remained silent until now spoke up. “Wouldn’t there be a higher chance of rejection of the blood with the additional substances?”

An older man standing by Barry and looking remarkably like him nodded as well. “She has a point. It would definitely pose a risk.”

“It would, if we were simply using blood of the same type. That’s not what I’m suggesting,” the man with glasses said. “I’m suggesting we use her blood.”

There was silence as Mari and the team from Star City glanced around at each other to see if they understood. 

The people from Central seemed to be catching on one by one. “Oh no,” Cisco said with a shake of his head. “Harry, come on. We only just got her in the pipeline.”

“Sorry, who are we talking about now?” Felicity asked.

“Your friend’s Earth 2 doppelganger was part of Zoom’s army,” Harry told them. “She was captured tonight.”

Thea felt her jaw drop. Laurel was a bad guy on another Earth? That was crazy!

“Will she even agree to donate some blood?” John asked.

“We’ll have to ask Black Siren. You guys don’t have to come down,” Barry said. “I know it’ll be kind of hard to see her like this.”

Oliver shook his head. “We have to be the ones to ask.”

They left Laurel’s casket in the cortex with Caitlin and the other scientists. Barry hit a button to open a door, letting them see a glass box of cell. Inside was Laurel — it was uncanny. If her hair were blonde, there would be no telling the difference. Except for her black leather clothes not being a match for Laurel’s suit, and the way she scowled as she paced.

She froze at the sight of their group and came up to the glass.

“Ollie?”

Oliver said nothing, his mouth open slightly as he stared at the woman who looked just like their friend.

Her painted lips turned down again. “Oh. You’re not my Ollie. You’re from this Earth, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he finally managed. “We have something to ask you. It’s about your counterpart here on this Earth.”

“I heard about that,” Laurel’s double said with a smirk. “Poor Canary met her coalmine.”

Oliver flinched, and Thea couldn’t blame him. “Not necessarily. We have a way to bring her back, but it requires a transfusion. Your blood is the best match to hers available.”

The woman with Laurel’s face scoffed. “You want me to agree to give a blood donation to a dead woman?”

“To bring her back to life, yes.”

“Why?”

That brought them all up short. “You...want your counterpart on this Earth to stay dead?” Felicity questioned incredulously.

The Siren shrugged. “I don’t see why she’d want to return to the living. What does she have to come back to? Zoom’s told me everything, you know. Let’s see...a mother who abandoned her, a sister who slept with her boyfriend. The boyfriend,” she listed off, eyes flicking over Oliver as she did so. “Friends who use her for pep talks or as their personal legal aid office. It’s no wonder she just gave up and died, her shoulders were probably aching from everyone crying on them all the time.”

Thea’s gaze was on the floor, her eyes feeling heavy with tears she didn’t want to she’d in front of the others. She’d worried to herself from time to time that she was a burden to Laurel, that she’d taken advantage of her kindness and hospitality, that she wasn’t giving back enough. To hear it spelled out in Laurel’s own voice — dripping as it was with a bitterness Laurel had never had — was hard to face.

“Well, there’s your answer,” Quentin said, and Thea wasn’t the only one who looked around at him in confusion. “That’s why she’d want to return. To help people. Friends, family, complete strangers. It didn’t matter. She was a hero, and heroes a lot of times, they’re taken for granted. It’s a mistake I’ll never make again. But that’s who my daughter was — who she’ll always be.” He looked Laurel’s double straight in the eye. “I think you could be that, too, if someone gave you the chance.”

Siren looked uncomfortable. She’d drawn in on herself and blinked a couple too many times as she looked back at Quentin. It occurred to Thea he hadn’t made her list of reasons for Laurel to stay dead.

“Please,” she said, standing at Quentin’s side. “We just want her back. We love her, and we want her to come home.”

“We do,” John echoed quietly, though his voice carried.

Felicity and Mari both nodded, the former clearly choking back tears.

“That’s really sweet,” said Siren. Her eyes narrowed. “But I want to hear it from Mr. Green over here. You’re the one asking for my blood. What’s it worth to you if your birdie comes flying home?”

Thea frowned. She wanted to say that of course her brother felt the same as the rest of them. But then, he hadn’t actually said anything just now. And if she thought about it, he hadn’t said anything when they’d all told Laurel they loved her at her hospital bedside.

But he spoke now. “Laurel...asking what she’s worth, it’s impossible to say. She has so much to give, to the people in her life, to the world. She should never have been taken away like this. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to change that.” He swallowed and said, “Because I do love her.”

Thea pressed her lips together to keep from making a sound. She had to. Because she knew now why Oliver hadn’t said it with the rest of them before; they could all hear how completely he meant it.

She could see Felicity knew it, too, by the way her shoulders hunched and her eyes squeezed shut. Even knowing she’d been the one to break things off, that couldn’t have been easy to hear.

“Well then,” Siren said, her eyes on the ground. “I guess people can change.” Her gaze cut to Barry, still standing at the control panel. “You and your friends better remember this when it’s time for you to decide what to do with me.”

“We’ll see,” he replied before flicking a switch.

Gas filled the little cell and Siren reared back, only to collapse moments later.

“Knockout gas,” Barry explained. “She may have agreed, but I don’t trust her not to try and break out afterwards.”

Thea nodded. It had still been hard to watch someone who looked so much like her friend fall. “What will happen to her?”

“It depends on when and how we stop Zoom,” said Barry. “But first thing’s first.” He went in to get the blood for the transfusion.

Oliver turned back towards them all, his hands rubbing over his face. Thea went up and hugged him.

“Thank you.” She knew how hard it was for him to open up, to be vulnerable. Thea felt it when a hand clapped her brother’s shoulder. She looked up to find it was Quentin.

“We’re getting her back,” was all Oliver said. “We’re getting our Laurel back.”

—-

Mari went back upstairs while the others were still recovering from having met Laurel’s doppelganger. She wanted to see what the scientists were making of the Lazarus water and begin some preparations of her own.

When she arrived, they’d moved Laurel’s body to a table and inserted a number of different IV needles and various points. One even directly into her chest underneath the loose shirt she’d been put in.

“The idea, as I understand it, is to get this water through her system as quickly as possible, particularly to the heart,” said a man who introduced himself as Henry Allen.

Another young woman had arrived in meantime as well. “I should tell dad to postpone the party then?”

“I think so, Iris,” Henry said with a rueful smile.

“Wow, a real-life resurrection. I thought we’d seen everything,” Iris said with a shake of her head.

“I’ve learned the best way to keep from being surprised is to expect anything,” Mari remarked. She then went for her things, carefully removing and unwrapping Darhk’s idol.

“What’s that?” Iris asked, walking over to join her.

“The man that killed Laurel used this to power his magic. It drew on the souls of his victims. I’m hoping that when her body’s brought back to life, Laurel might be drawn to her own soul. Then we’ll have both parts of her back.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.” Mari nodded. “Expect anything.”

Barry raced up ahead of everyone with an IV bag that he attached to the system they had going. “Are we ready, Caitlin?”

“Just waiting on you,” Caitlin confirmed. “Harry and Jesse have theorized that if you give her heart a jolt at the same moment that the Lazarus water reaches it, it should hopefully respond and rejuvenate her.”

“Right.”

Mari looked back around as Oliver and the rest of his team entered the cortex, some of them with red-rimmed eyes and all looking varying degrees of downcast or hopeful. “Anything else we should prepare for?” She asked them.

John collected himself first. “We should fasten her down. The first few minutes, Thea was pretty disoriented. Sara was dangerous until Constantine got her soul back.”

Cisco hurriedly moved in to add restraints. Mari had to marvel at it all, both teams and her working towards one common purpose. The things they could do together.

The man named Harry counted down on a watch at his wrist as the water and blood were fed into the IV tubes and began trickling down. “Ten seconds...five...now, Allen!”

Barry’s hands sparked as he touched down on Laurel’s chest. The body jolted once.

“Again!”

Thea was gripping her brother’s hand tight enough Mari could see it turning chalk white. Laurel’s father was using the back of a chair for support.

“One more time!”

“You can do this, son,” Henry Allen encouraged him.

“Come on, Bear,” Iris muttered.

The lighting was crackling in Barry’s eyes this time as he pressed onto Laurel’s chest.

A jolt. Then a gasp.

“My God,” Mari breathed. She’d seen a lot of things in her time as a hero, but this?

Laurel’s body was alive. Her friend began writhing against the restraints with an energy and fluidity that would have been impossible seconds before. Cisco, Harry, Jesse and Henry each held a limb down as Caitlin frantically checked over the IV’s. A snarl that didn’t sound quite human left Laurel’s lips as the doctor fiddled with them.

“Honey!” Quentin suddenly pushed forward. “Honey, it’s okay. I know you’re scared, but you’re safe, I promise!”

Laurel’s head whipped around, seemingly searching for her father’s voice. Disoriented like John had described. She was more like a wild beast, Mari thought to herself.

“Careful, Mr. Lance,” Caitlin cautioned.

“No, let him,” said Mari. In the corner of her eye, she watched Oliver drift closer towards their friend as well. She doubted he was even aware of himself. “It’s soothing her.”

Even as she said it, her senses detected a charge to the air and her hand went to her necklace, instincts kicking in. Danger.

Laurel, in her altered state, seemed to have that heightened sense, too. Her body went rigid and lips pulled back over her teeth as a blue streak of lightning entered the room.

It impacted a scream.

Lights shattered overhead and they were all forced to duck the glass shards. There was a thud as the blue lightning resolves into the form of a man and slammed against the far wall. Barry was on the unknown attacker and then Mari was seconds later with the speed of a cheetah. She followed Barry’s lead in punching him out.

“Zoom. I’m putting him in the pipeline!” Barry called out into the near-darkness before vanishing with the other speedster. Only the lights out in the hall allowed them to make out dimly lit shapes.

“Ramon, we need lights!” Harry was barking.

“Got it!” His footsteps were easier for her to track than his shape. 

“What the hell was that?” She was able to easily discern Quentin’s voice. “What happened to Laurel? Did it go wrong?”

“That was her doppelganger’s ability. The transfusion must have reacted to her latent meta gene.” That she was fairly sure was Harry. “We’ll have to test when she’s stable. What’s her status?”

She touched the Anansi Totem around her neck again to give herself a leopard’s night vision. The first thing she noticed was Oliver. He’d thrown himself over Laurel’s form on the table to shield her from the glass, and still had his head ducked down.

“She’s still breathing,” Oliver announced, slightly muffled. “She’s...she’s calmer.”

That, Mari could see as well. Laurel’s face was turned into his neck, and she was no longer fighting to get free.

The backup lights kicked on with no warning, and Mari quickly cancelled her borrowed powers. She had to blink spots out of her eyes for a few moments.

Everyone was either lying or crouched on the floor like one of the drills they put kids through for storms. Henry’s hand rubbed at his neck.

“I could swear I felt fingers for a second,” he muttered. “It was all so fast.”

Iris was the first to move to brush some of the glass off of Oliver’s shirt. “I don’t think you got cut too badly.”

“Thanks.” He slowly leveraged himself up back to standing.

“No problem. This might be a weird time to ask, but since when did you know about Barry being the Flash?”

“Uh…” Oliver didn’t seem to have anything ready to answer that question, and truthfully Mari wasn’t sure why it was being asked. He was saved when Laurel made a sudden jerky movement and started snarling again.

Harry and Jesse pushed both Oliver and Iris back in order to hold Laurel down again. “Snow! Snap out of it! We need you focused,” Harry commanded.

Mari noticed Caitlin, still sitting on the floor and staring at the spot where the other speedster had been. She was paler than what seemed natural. “R-right!”

“Let me bring this closer,” Mari said, lifting the idol up and doing her best to find room amongst the small crowd. If Laurel reacted to it, that would give her a better idea of what needed to be done.

Her friend was fighting against the restraints, struggling toward something like Mari had predicted she would. But it wasn’t towards the idol.

It was towards Oliver.

Mari’s eyes narrowed. “Okay, I have to be missing something.”

“What do you mean?” It was Felicity that asked.

She set aside the idol. “Oliver, come stand by me.”

He did, and sure enough, Laurel’s focus shifted in his direction again. They all stared.

“What does it mean?” Quentin asked.

Mari frowned, touching her totem to try and center herself as she concentrated. She thought she could detect some kind of trace on him, only she didn’t see how.

Mari opened her eyes. “You didn’t tell me you could channel magic.”

“I can’t,” Oliver said with clear confusion.

“Then what are you hiding there,” she said, gesturing at his torso.

With a slightly uncomfortable look, he lifted up his shirt a little. On his right side was a tattoo. A couple years ago, she would have thought nothing of it; since she’d begun studying the occult, she knew better now.

Mari hummed to herself. “That’s it.”

“Constantine gave it to me. He didn’t say it could channel magic.”

“That’s probably because he never expected you to learn magic. But I think I know what’s happening. You were with her when she died?”

Oliver’s throat bobbed before he answered. “Yes.”

“Then her spirit isn’t in Darhk’s idol. Somehow it’s in you.”

“Whoa,” said Cisco at the entrance to the cortex. He’d clearly just returned from turning the generator on. “How does that work? Is he an Oliver-Laurel hybrid? Could she take him over? Can we talk to her through him?”

“You might be able to, Ramon,” said Harry.

Mari looked between them. “I’m gonna need some clarification on that.”

“Cisco’s a metahuman,” said Iris. “He used his powers to pull Barry out of the speed force. I went with him.”

“I’m not sure this is the same,” Mari told her. It was admittedly murky territory. As much as she drew on the spirits of animals from her ancestors’ tribal lands, she had no real experience transferring a spirit from one person to another.

“Would it hurt if Cisco tried?” Asked Caitlin. Some of the color was beginning to return to her cheeks.

Mari still didn’t know how Oliver had accidentally absorbed Laurel’s spirit instead of Darhk, and if Cisco really could even just open a line of communication, it would help. “We can try it.”

“Okay.” Cisco came forward, stepping between Laurel on the table and Oliver. “I’ll take one of her hands and you give me yours.”

Oliver eyed it. “Then what?”

“You’ll have to reach out to her,” said Iris. “It’s hard to describe how, but you just- you just sort of know. That’s how it was for me when I brought Barry home.”

If anything, her earnest words seemed to make him more hesitant. “I don’t know if I…”

“Oliver, just do it,” Felicity said, her tone practically a command. Almost everyone turned to look at her. “We’ve come this far, and we know you — well, I’d like to at least have my friend back after everything.”

“Please,” Quentin added after a slightly tense pause. “If it’s gotta be you. She trusted you.”

Oliver nodded, and Mari caught a glimpse of his determined look before he turned back and took Cisco’s hand.

—-

Laurel didn’t know where she was. Not in a scary way, but this place felt familiar. Like it resonated deep in her bones somehow, like she’d known it her whole life without ever having been here before.

She walked through the dense trees, sidestepping undergrowth and other dangers alike. She wasn’t sure how she knew which patches of earth were safe and which meant trouble, but it didn’t seem to bother her.

A storm was coming, had been the whole time. The clouds had gathered and the thunder boomed in the distance, but it was yet to arrive here on this island. She wasn’t sure when she’d decided it was an island either, but she could hear the choppy waves on the shore behind her even louder with the storm on the way.

She paused at a sound, turning to see a cave she might have otherwise passed up. Laurel heard the sound again. Someone was inside.

It was the first she’d heard of another human being since she’d woken to this place. Laurel carefully approached the mouth of the cave, her eyes going wide.

Inside was Oliver. Not the Oliver she felt she had spoken to only just before and yet seemingly so long ago. This Oliver was younger, with shaggy hair and worn clothes. His cheeks were clean-shaven and wet with tears as he sobbed, curled in a ball.

How had she gotten here? She wasn’t a speedster. She couldn’t time travel, and she didn’t hitch a ride on a ship like Sara was doing. However this had happened, she probably needed to go.

She shifted back but snapped a twig under her heel. Oliver looked up.

“Hello?”

His voice tugged at her heartstrings. So lonely and scared.

“Is someone out there? I can’t see. It- it’s too dark.”

This was her Ollie. Caught on the cusp of changing; with all his innocence and all his flaws. She couldn’t help herself.

Laurel entered the cave. “It’s me, Ollie. I’m here.”

“Laurel.” He didn’t seem at all surprised, and that was maybe only the latest sign that this place wasn’t quite what it seemed. Was this a vision? Some kind of hallucination she was having in the hospital?

Oliver straightened up, and she saw what he’d been curled around: a small, handmade cage with a bird inside.

“What’s that?” She asked walking over and sitting on the ground beside him.

“Oh.” Ollie’s face fell. “It’s supposed to be food.”

“Supposed to be?”

“This guy, he says I have to kill it first. I don’t want to kill it. I’m not a killer!”

Laurel bit her lip. His desperate plea was hard to hear, knowing what she did.

And she thought he knew it, too, the more she looked into his eyes. This wasn’t the Ollie from nine years ago, not really.

She wasn’t sure why, but Laurel suddenly knew whatever she chose to say next was vitally important, unreal as her whole situation seemed.

“Killing a bird because you need to survive isn’t wrong, Ollie. It doesn’t have to make you a killer. It doesn’t have to define you.”

“I don’t want to be in this cave anymore,” he said.

“We can leave it if you want.”

Oliver looked at her miserably. “I wouldn’t know where to go. I don’t know what’s out there. What’s beyond the island. What if it’s just worse? What if I’m worse?”

“That’s the scary thing about change. You don’t know what will happen.” She took his hand between both of hers. “But that change is possible, Ollie. I know it. I’ve seen it.”

He reflected on that for a time. “Do you think...I could become the man you always wanted me to be?”

Laurel shook her head even as her lips curved in a half-smile. “That man was a fantasy. He couldn’t live up to my childhood dreams any more than I can be some kind of angel for you,” she said, gesturing to herself. “What you’ve become is someone I believe in. Someone I trust, that I choose to trust. You’re so much more than that man and, for all the mistakes we’ve both made along the way, I’m proud of and happy for you.” Her eyes were watering but she didn’t bother to do anything about that. She was long past being ashamed of her tears. “Never doubt that.”

He leaned forward, and for an absurd moment she thought he might kiss her — but instead his forehead rested against hers, his eyes closed. “I don’t want to do this without you.”

“You don’t have to. Come on.” Laurel pulled him up by his hands, leading him out of the cave. The storm had passed them by. The clouds lingered, but lighter gray and less dense. As they climbed, light filtered through some of the gaps in the cloud cover and the trees. They climbed until they reached a high peak, marked by a pile of stones.

“My father,” said Ollie, and his voice was low like the way she was used to him speaking after all these years. “I buried him here.”

Laurel reached out and cupped his cheek. “I’m sorry you had to do that alone.”

For once, he didn’t brush off the concern, the way he did when he felt he needed to shoulder all his own burdens plus a whole city’s worth. Instead he stepped forward, hugging her to him. One of his hands braced the back of her head while the other wound tight around her waist. It was the kind of embrace she’d long missed.

Then he drew in a breath and said the words that nearly shattered her. “I wish I knew how to love you better.”

Laurel’s grip shifted to his shoulder blades, holding tight. Her eyes squeezed shut. “It’s okay.”

“If I could have another chance—”

“Ollie, it’s okay.” She pulled back, not quite out of his hold because he wouldn’t let her, but enough to see his face. “I’m dead, aren’t I?”

His face crumpled.

“Laurel!”

She blinked and looked around. His mouth hadn’t moved but she’d heard Oliver’s voice—

Above them, the sky had turned a strange blue with constant ripples. In the middle of it all somehow stood Oliver. Short-haired and stubbled and tired. World-weary and so well-meaning. Still trying to change.

He reached a hand out. “Come with me, Laurel. Please, trust me.”

The younger Ollie had shrunk back in response to his double appearing, but she looked back to him. “I promise, you’re never really alone. Even if it seems like I’m gone, I will always be here.” She laid a hand over her chest. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Laurel!” Oliver shouted again. Stern, too. This was her Oliver.

Without a second thought, she took a run and jump off the cliff’s peak, her hand catching his and then another’s with her other hand—

Laurel shot up from a table, her hands grasped firmly by Oliver and Cisco and her heart hammering like she had just run a marathon. Her arms and legs were strapped down and she felt a bone-deep tiredness.

“What just happened?”

“Honey!”

“Dad?”

He was breaking through the crowd — and the more Laurel looked the more it seemed like a crowd, most faces she knew but some she couldn’t recognize — and wrapping her in a hug. She felt the buckles on her arms come off allowing her to return it.

“Oh, my girl,” her dad kept saying into her shoulder. She could feel tears leaking into the shirt she couldn’t remember dressing in. “I knew you’d come back to us, I just knew you would.”

“Dad, what’s — where even are we?”

“Welcome to STAR Labs,” Cisco told her with a big smile and teary eyes. Laurel’s eyebrows lifted; as many times as she’d spoken to her engineer friend and worked with his teammates, she’d never been to their base of operations.

Pinpricks of slight pain were starting to register, and with a start she noticed the number of IV’s poking into her. “These aren’t—”

“None of them are painkillers,” Thea assured her, and Laurel was very glad to see her friend had made it to her side. She was less glad to see the girl she thought of as a little sister also on the verge of tears. “Can we get these taken out so I can hug her?”

“Of course,” Caitlin agreed softly. She was gazing at Laurel with something like wonder. “This is fascinating, really. And of course, we’ll need to run that bloodwork to test for the gene right away but—” and here she clutched at Laurel’s arm after removing to IVs. “This is amazing! I can’t believe it worked!”

“It was pretty touch and go there,” Mari spoke up from one side of the room. Laurel was still trying to process how they’d all moved from Star to Central and gathered several of their friends to really understand what they were alluding to.

Caitlin and a young girl she didn’t know were each removing the IVs. The one inserted into her chest hurt the worst coming out, and she probably crushed her dad and Thea’s hands while it was removed.

“What exactly, um—” Laurel started to ask, her eyes searching over various people’s heads for where Oliver had gone.

But a whoosh of air and crackle of lightning announced Barry’s arrival.

“Did the pipeline work?” A woman asked. She came over to stand by him as she did so.

“Yeah. I wanted to know his plan, so I- I talked to him.” Barry turned to an older man with a striking resemblance. “He was after you, dad. He was gonna— I can’t believe I almost lost you.”

Father and son embraced, and Laurel averted her eyes from what was obviously a private moment. Except that in the next instant, Barry was suddenly hugging her.

“Thank you, thank you so much—”

“Uh—”

“I mean I have no idea how you did it, but you saved my father. I’m so glad you’re alive.”

“Yeah, how is that a thing exactly?” She finally managed to get the full question in. Everyone thankfully quieted down a little.

“Well, um, you had a complication at the hospital and they- they lost you, honey,” her father started to explain. Laurel nodded; that made sense. “So I started looking at ways to, you know, to get you back.”

“Right,” Laurel agreed with only a touch of irony. It was just their lives now that death was only a temporary setback, wasn’t it? She was too emotionally drained from everything that had happened between her and Oliver — both at the hospital and in that representation of what must have been Lian Yu — to really feel much shock over all this.

“Nyssa, she said the Pit was gone. But Darhk had some of the water. He’d taken it for himself years ago. So we took him on.”

Laurel quickly cast her gaze around the room. She’d seen her father, Thea and Oliver already — there was John and Felicity. She sagged in relief. “No one else was hurt?”

“Only Darhk,” said Mari. “He’s dead.”

“Oh.” She felt nothing really about that. It certainly wasn’t anything she would lose sleep over, at any rate. Darhk had been an evil hanging over her family for too long for her to care that he wouldn’t be facing legal justice. He’d had his chance.

“So with him gone, we got a hold of the water he had and went to these people for help,” her dad finished explaining.

A man in glasses stepped in to continue. “This mix of medical and experimental science along with Ramon’s ability allowing your partner to bring your consciousness back to your own body had a significant chance of failure and required a very specific set of circumstances to work out in your favor. There also appear to be side effects. I would not recommend anyone try it again in the near future.” He fixed the room with narrowed eyes for a long moment.

Okay, so she’d been dead. And they’d brought her back with Darhk’s stolen water. There was poetic justice in that, she could acknowledge. There was one thing she still wasn’t clear on.

“I wasn’t...when we went to get Sara’s, she was in a place, almost like Nanda Parbat? And she was trapped. That wasn’t what it was like for me.”

“It could just be the different representations of your souls. If I had to guess, your sister’s soul was truly lost when she was killed,” Mari said. “It’s amazing that you were even able to recover it. Your soul was supposed to be absorbed by Darhk’s idol like all his other victims, but…” she trailed off.

“Ollie was hanging onto it for safekeeping,” Thea supplied with a cheeky grin.

“What?” Laurel finally spotted him; he’d ended up near the back of the group, half-sitting on the edge of a table with a hand pressed over his mouth.

He took it away to answer, “It was an accident.”

“A lucky one,” Mari agreed. “I’d like to talk to this John Constantine myself about it, if he’s available.”

“Trust me, he’ll make himself available for you,” Felicity remarked, and Laurel had to fight a smile off her face. Then it really did fall when Felicity added, “So, if you were in Oliver — in the tattoo! I meant the tattoo. I mean...what was it, uh, like?”

It occurred to Laurel that if she’d been on Lian Yu and seen another Oliver, that hadn’t been a representation of her soul at all. It had been his. She met his eyes and said, “Actually, I don’t really remember much. It’s kind of slipping away from me.”

His eyes closed, relief plain on his face that fortunately no one else saw.

“You’re probably exhausted,” her dad said from his perch on the side of her bed. “Everything that happened. You need your rest, honey.”

Someone’s phone rang, and the woman standing beside Barry gave a start before answering it. “Dad? Yeah, we got a little held up. Well, it’s Bear. Don’t you expect him to be late by now?” She sent a teasing look back at the speedster before starting to usher the various members of Team Flash who weren’t doctors out of the room. Mari followed them after giving her a brief hug. John was next, though he stopped at her bedside to squeeze her hand and smile at her with watery eyes. Laurel returned it. Felicity approached with a hug she gladly returned, then followed John out the door.

Oliver finally walked up to join Thea and her dad at her bedside. He leaned in and brushed his lips against her cheek, a whispered, “Thank you,” in her ear.

Laurel’s hands shook a little, but she managed a smile. What she had seen and learned about him in her time there was something she would keep private as long as he wished. Even if it was his loved ones asking, it had to be Oliver’s choice to share that part of himself.

He lingered, tucking a bit of her hair that had fallen into her face behind her ear. His gaze left her feeling warm all over.

“We’re ready to move you to a cot, Laurel,” Barry’s father said gently, breaking the moment. Laurel ducked her head and allowed him and her own father to help her over to the medical cot. Her arms and legs worked fine, even if they felt a little stiff. Probably something that would heal with time.

After she slept, they had a lot to address. For one thing, she’d been resurrected as a metahuman.

“The blood transfusion from your doppelganger must have activated your dormant meta gene. We’d never tested for that sort of thing before,” Caitlin explained to her. “It’s honestly a fascinating discovery.”

“And she’s going to be sent back to Earth 2 for a trial, right?” Laurel checked. She really didn’t like the look of those tiny cells from what she’d been shown on the security footage.

“We’ll have to work out a way to transport her without risk of her breaking out, but yes. Her and the other metas from Earth 2 that we captured,” Barry promised.

She and her dad stopped by her mother’s house before they all got ready to leave Central, and she wasn’t sure she remembered the last time her mom was so emotional over seeing her.

“I’m the luckiest mother in the world,” she declared to them both. “My daughters always come back to me.”

“We always try, mom.”

With some edits to the medical records by Felicity, they created a cover story; she had been near death and had been transferred to an elite, private hospital where they had stabilized her and kept her for observation over the last month. It likely wouldn’t stop her from being bombarded by the press upon their return, but it would likely hold until some other bit of news distracted everyone again.

Laurel used the last couple of days of their stay in Central City to observe the changes in her friends, the old ones as opposed to the new ones she was making from Team Flash. It was hard to imagine that so much could have changed in so little time, but it had seemingly changed all the same. The biggest one was that they all seemed very aware of her presence and took to hugging her quite often. Laurel could only assume that would calm down once the reality of her being back had really settled in.

Stranger was the distance that seemed to remain between Oliver and Felicity. She knew Felicity was likely still upset for the same reasons she had broken things off with him, but Oliver seemed to have completely accepted this. They treated each other cordially the few times they directly interacted, and there weren’t the hints of pain in his eyes that had been there before. If anything, he seemed totally at peace.

He also seemed to find any excuse to be around her. Sitting by her whenever they took meals, watching her practice her new powers out at the abandoned airfield and providing words of encouragement. He seemed committed to embodying that hope she’d once told him he represented to the people of their city.

Oliver’s new outlook on life perhaps best expressed itself when he received a call from the City Council. “They want me to fill in as mayor,” he told them all once he got off the phone.

“What?”

“Really?”

“Yes. They need someone for the interim since Ruve left. I- I got the job.” A smile was growing on his face.

“Oliver, that’s wonderful,” Laurel said, intending to just give his shoulder a squeeze. Oliver seized her around the waist and spun her around in a hug, and if she hadn’t been practicing her control her yelp of surprise might have shattered a window. When he set her down, she patted his shoulders and stepped back a good foot, sure she had to be blushing.

What was going on with him?

The night before they left, she gathered the courage to ask. Laurel found him up on the roof of STAR Labs, seemingly enjoying the spring air. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he greeted her back, opening up his stance as a silent indicator she was welcome to join him.

“I don’t want to seem like I’m spoiling a good thing, but I can’t help noticing you’ve been a little different lately,” she observed.

He chuckled, looking down at the ground. “Yeah, I don’t know. Something about bringing you back, ever since then, I just…” Oliver shrugged. “Things seem better. Or maybe I just feel like they do. Watching us all come together to do this, to have you back, maybe it just finally sunk in, you know? That I’m not alone and I haven’t been.”

Laurel nodded, absorbing that.

“It was like, Cisco used his powers to let me get to you, and something just changed. I feel...lighter, like there’s this weight that’s been taken off my chest. I don’t even know how or why.”

“Oh,” said Laurel, something clicking in that instant.

He looked at her. “What?”

“I think I, um, maybe did something by accident. I was...that was your soul, where I was, wasn’t it? And I found you. Or a you.”

“The representation of me,” Oliver agreed. “Go on?”

“Right. Well, we talked. And I- I wasn’t trying to- to change your very being, Ollie. I swear,” she said, holding up both hands. “But I promised you that you weren’t going to have to keep doing things alone, and I...was that wrong?”

He stared at her for a long moment, incredulous. “If it was, I’m not sure I agree. I think maybe I’ve needed that. All this time I’ve wanted to, to let someone in and to believe you and the others when you try to reach me, but...there was always this wall. It was me on an island, and you all on the other side of an ocean. But you came and met me there. I’m...I’m grateful, Laurel.”

She sagged in relief. “This is crazy, isn’t it?”

“Maybe. But our lives have been that way for a while now. We should take the good with the bad.”

“I’ve broken you. You would’ve never said that before,” she maintained with a shake of the head. He snorted, and she followed suit. Then they were both laughing on the roof. She leaned on him and his arms went around her, the both of them trembling in this strange new embrace.

His laughter slowly subsided. “I’m always going to be grateful for you, Dinah Laurel Lance.”

She rested her head on his shoulder. “That goes for you, too, Oliver Jonas Queen.”

They stayed like that until her father poked his head up from the roof access door, claiming she needed to get some sleep like she was still a teenager living in his house or something. Laurel didn’t really mind; wherever this was going with Oliver needed time.

Her dad insisted on helping her to put her things back in order once they returned to Starling — apparently he had started packing a bag sometime in the last month of all her essentials and they needed put away. Thea stepped out to pick up some Big Belly Burger for the three of them, so Laurel was surprised when there came a knock on the door.

She was even more surprised when she checked the peephole, though she immediately threw the door open. “Nyssa!”

Her friend’s smile was tinged with something like a scolding, as it often was. “I see my assumption was correct. Your family holds little regard for the dangers of the Pit as always.”

“Uh…”

“Who’s that?” Her father asked, stopping in the hallway at the sight of Nyssa. “Oh. Sorry, uh, about not saying. Wasn’t sure how to contact you.”

“I’m sure.” Nyssa reached into her pocket and withdrew a familiar looking vial. “Luckily, I made my own observations and prepared accordingly.”

“Is that…?” Laurel started to ask.

“More of the Lotus. I will admit, it was not easy to come by, and I have been asked to help the Crescent Order in exchange for it. This should be enough to cure you of the effects of the Pit’s waters.”

“But you- you shouldn’t have put yourself in debt just for me,” Laurel argued. She’d been worried about when the effects of the Lazarus Pit might assert themselves — she’d yet to go out in the field, so it hadn’t exactly been tested yet — but to know that Nyssa would do that for her was almost too much.

“Thank you,” her father intoned solemnly.

“I told you I would do anything for your daughter, did I not? It is thanks to your fortitude, and perhaps stubbornness, that I am able to uphold that promise.”

“Yeah, well anything you need from us, you never hesitate to ask, alright?” Her dad said. “You’re as good as family, far as I’m concerned.”

Nyssa blinked, her careful mask slipping for just an instant so that Laurel got a glimpse of the shock and happiness that statement caused. “I am honored,” her friend managed in her dignified way at last. Her gaze softened again, intentionally, as she looked at Laurel. “And I am glad to know you are back in the world, Laurel.”

“Me too.” She reached out and hugged Nyssa. “Thank you so much.”

“I am happy to do my part for the Crescent Order,” Nyssa told her after they broke apart. “Especially with the Magician gathering the remnants of the League to him, it is my responsibility to see their efforts stopped. That I was able to help a friend as well only makes this clearer to me. But I must take my leave and resume my duties.”

“We’ll see you again?” She asked as Nyssa turned for the door.

Her friend looked back. “You may yet.” She winked and left down the hallway.

“Well, that went better than I was expecting,” her dad remarked. “Best for you to take that right away, honey.”

“Mm-hm.” But Laurel tucked the vial away for the moment in order to turn and hug her father. “Thank you for not giving up on me, Daddy.”

“Well, how could I?” He asked, returning her hug. “You never gave up on me.”

There was still plenty up in the air, for both herself and her friends and family. But if she could borrow some of that hope she’d known Oliver always held inside, Laurel had a feeling they could handle it together.

[crue-sixx]

Cat Person (John Wick Imagine)

This was requested.

Summary: John Wick never considered himself a cat person, but you just might be able to change his mind.

I know the gif is from Constantine, but it fits so...

John Wick had never considered himself much of a cat person. Honestly, he’d never considered himself a dog person either, but that had obviously changed. His beloved pit bull was proof of that. It’s not that he hated cats. He just didn’t really understand the furry creatures. They were so quiet and sneaky. They also seemed to be pretty ill tempered.

But then you came along.

You and John had been dating for over a year after meeting at the bookstore that you owned. You just so happened to be working the day John Wick strolled in. He asked you what books you would recommend so you helped him out. You showed him your favorites, but the man had already read the majority of them, telling you that they were some of his favorites as well. You talked about them for a while and even went out for coffee when your employee came in to relieve you. You two were pretty much inseparable after that.

John had just recently asked you to move in with him and you did. Everything was great. You two were comfortable with each other and you loved his dog to bits, but you felt like you were missing something. Being around John’s dog made you long for another pet...a cat to be exact.

“John, how do you feel about cats?” You asked your boyfriend as you were both sat on the couch, watching a movie while drinking some wine.

“That’s a random question,” he replied after he took a sip from his wine glass.

“I’m just curious,” you told him and shrugged your shoulders.

“I don’t know,” he answered you. “I haven’t been around them much to really form an opinion. I don’t consider myself a cat person though.”

You frowned a little as you nodded your head. You didn’t expect that.

“Well, I think cats are absolutely adorable,” you said. “They’re so cute.”

“I guess so,” he replied, simply.

Nothing else was said between you two for a few moments. All that could be heard was the television and John’s dog snoring from his spot by the end of your feet.

“I heard they make really good pets,” you commented.

John’s brow raised as he looked down at you. You were cuddled up close to him with his arm around you. You glanced up at him and smiled a little at him.

“Are you trying to suggest that we get a cat?” John asked you.

You took a sip of your wine before you shrugged your shoulders. “Yeah...I just thought it would be a nice addition. My old apartment building didn’t allow animals so I was never able to get one.”

John finished off his wine and leaned forward to sit his glass on the coffee table. You scooted over so he could do so.

“I don’t think that’s a really good idea,” John finally said. “We already have a pet. Also, he’s a dog. Don’t dogs and cats hate each other?”

“Not all of them,” you replied as you look at him.

“I still don’t think it’s a very good idea, Y/N,” he replied. “I’m sorry.”

You frowned, but nodded your head. You couldn’t force this upon John. It had to be a mutual agreement between you both, but he just wasn’t on board with it. It disappointed you, yes, but there was nothing you could do about it.

“It’s okay,” you finally told him. “It was just a suggestion.”

John could see that this had upset you no matter how much you tried to act otherwise. He hated that he made you upset. He just wasn’t sure about adding another furry creature to the household. There was also the issue of his dog and a cat getting along.

The rest of the night was spent watching tv before going to bed together. John’s dog slept at the end of the bed as he usually did. You were fast asleep, but John was still awake. He was debating the whole thing in his head, making a pro’s and con’s list in his head. Getting a cat would make you happy and making you happy was all John wanted. It didn’t take him long to come to a decision.

————

You walked into the home that you and John shared the next evening after spending some time at the bookstore. You didn’t expect there to be anything different when you walked through the door, but you were in for quite the surprise.

You glanced into the living room and did a double take at what you saw. There, sitting on the couch, was John. It wasn’t just him, however. He was holding a cat in his lap, petting it as its tail moved around.

“John?” You asked as you stepped over to him. “Why are you holding a cat? What are you doing with a cat?”

John looked up from the cat and at you. “I’m holding her because she likes it. She’s our cat now.”

You were surprised to hear that. Just the night before John had told you that a cat was a bad idea, but then there he was with one and saying it was yours.

“How did that happen?” You asked.

“Well, I stayed awake most of the night and thought about it,” he told you. “It wasn’t fair of me to just push the idea off. This is your home too and you should be able to make decisions. You seemed really happy about the idea of a cat for a pet. I went to the animal shelter today and found this cat. She was alone and seemed to be in need of someone who would show her some attention. I knew she was perfect for you. I bought everything she would need.”

You smiled at that and felt your heart warm. John did this all for you and he seemed to be totally okay with it. What did you ever do to deserve John Wick?

“I’m pretty fond of her and so is my dog,” he said. “I was shocked really. I kept a hold of her just in case something happened, but all he did was sniff her and she rubbed up against him when I let her down. Is that even normal?”

You giggled as you stepped up closer to him and pet the cat. She had pretty grey fur that was soft to the touch. She purred as you rubbed her.

“Her name’s Willow,” John said as he stood up and handed her to you. “I hope you don’t mind that I picked out a cat without you. I just wanted to surprise you.”

“John, this is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” you told him as you looked at him. “Thank you so much.”

You leaned in to kiss John. He kissed you back and cupped your cheek in his hand. Willow moved around in your arms a bit so you pulled away from John and put her down. She walked around until John’s dog came into view. She rubbed herself against him and the dog didn’t do a thing.

“That’s just freaking me out,” John said. “I figured he’d go into attack mode.”

“Hey, he’s a sweet innocent little puppy,” you told John as you leaned into him.

John chuckled and shook his head before he looked down at you. He pecked your lips and you smiled.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, John.”

[mattzerella-sticks]

A Common Thread, Day 3 of Batflash Week - Spells & Missions

John Constantine awoke to discover one of his old enemies had broken free from Hell again. How? By a bloodstained message left in his bathroom mirror. If he doesn't come to where she wants him, he'll never see one of the best things that had ever happened to him. All he needs to do is walk into her trap alone and everything will work itself out.

Unfortunately Batman throws a wrench into the plan by storming in.

Are they brave and bold enough to rescue Barry?

John Constantine stares up at the faded sign of the warehouse, spray painted in a mess of symbols any self-respecting warlock would spit at. It’s one of many graffitied markers of kids playing with forces they know nothing about. Lucky that none of the sigils were any good sewn together by the hands of a novice.

Except luck runs out. Evident by the dried blood splattering the ground next to a perfect symbol used to summon demons. Kicking over an upturned crate John finds a severed hand clutching a dirty page with instructions on it.

“Doesn’t anyone know,” he mutters, inspecting the spell printed out, “that by tampering with forces you can’t begin to understand there’ll be hell to pay?”

And it’s usually at John’s doorstep they show up, aiming to collect.

Blythe takes what’s hers in blood .

He hadn’t expected her sorry ass to climb its way from Hell so soon, especially since he left her ground under the hell of Neron’s well-polished boot. Underestimating her resourcefulness proved much to dangerous, yet he does it constantly. John thought he learned his lesson when she kidnapped Oliver. In school the teacher always had to go over her lessons more than once before John understood, and the habit’s followed him like a horrid stench.

Now someone else he cares for is suffering under her clutches. John hopes he isn’t too late.

A rustle sounds from nearby. John drops the page, tensing in his squat. Mud squelches underfoot as an intruder steps closer, human from the sound of it. If Blythe wanted to surprise him she wouldn’t announce her presence in such a pedestrian manner.

“Whoever’s there,” he starts, sparks dancing at his fingertips, “I’m half-cocked and ready to fire off like it’s nobody’s business. Announce your presence or spend the next millenium picking yourself from between brimstone.”

“John…”

Sighing, John relaxes somewhat. He recognizes the broody timbre of the man waiting nearby. While it wasn’t a demon, John suspects an ounce of the devil runs through his blood. Why else would someone choose to dress like a giant bat?

“Batman,” he stands, lips thinning into a masked smile, “What brings you around these haunts? I know it must remind you of home but…” John drops the sentence, Batman catching it perfectly from the sneer crossing his expressions.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, skipping pleasantries. Of course.

“Fancy a bit of a stroll,” John shrugs, “bilge water does wonders for the body’s health…”

“ John …”

John levels a glare at Batman, readying a cigarette. “Why should I say what you already know. I’m here for the same’s you are.”

Although for vastly different reasons, John supposes. Batman was his colleague, one of the original seven. A detective who could follow the clues Diana in all her grandstanding glory wouldn’t have been able to notice. Trying to find the bigger picture where there is none. Because this wasn’t some prophecy or plan to take over the world.

It was the consequences of a mistake finally catching up. Doesn’t matter how fast you can run when there’s a blemish on your soul. A dark print where John brushed up against his life, if only for a moment.

Batman peers from behind his cowl, scanning him. “Zatanna send you?”

“Didn’t have to,” John says, “got a direct line from the perp herself.” He snaps his fingers, a photograph appearing instantly. John shows Batman, letting him keep the picture as he drifts closer towards the doors. John memorized exactly what was on it.

Blood smeared across his bathroom mirror in an imitation of a crack. Upon closer inspection, John realized what it was.

A lightning bolt.

He reaches the door when Batman slams him against it, crushing his face against the rusted metal. “Easy!” he whines, “I never got my tetanus shot!”

“This,” he growls, “This is your fault?”

“When isn’t it my fault!”

“What did you do? What did you do !”

“Back… off!” John throws Batman to the ground with a quick spell, eyes glowing when he sees the other hero skittering to a fighting stance. Red edges at the corner of his eyes, driven by a bottomless fury. Curious, if he weren’t on the receiving end. “Listen,” he starts, “you could get your rocks off beating the shit out of me or we can go in and save him. Which do you prefer?”

Batman huffs heavy breaths, thinking. Ultimately he relents, fists hovering at his sides. He strides forward. John plants his feet, hoping the mud will keep him from instinctively flinching backwards.

Stopping inches from his face, Batman growls. “If he’s hurt - in any way - than there’s no cheap parlor trick you can do that’ll save you.”

John scoffs, drunk on false bravado. “You haven’t seen my best cheap parlor trick, then.”

Batman shoulders him on his way towards the door. “Hurry up,” he says, “let’s not waste time.”

A beat passes, John crossing his arms as his cigarette dangles - unlit - between his lips. He curses and flings it down. Stomps over it while moving towards the warehouse.

While barren on the outside, signs of life were more evident inside the cavernous building. Mussed floors, littered with abandoned beer bottles and an amp or two, remind John of his wilder days years ago. Could picture himself and Chaz a few yards away rocking to a cruddy band performing on a makeshift stage. Sees the perfect place to snog, hidden from the view of the crowds. Where you can slip a finger or two in and hide moans under angry screams and shredded licks.

Those thoughts lead him to another time in another place. A bedroom with mussed sheets and hands that scoured every inch of his skin while trembling instinctively. Achieving orgasm was like being struck by lightning.

Sobered, he casts a dim eye towards Batman. The detective scans the room with an objective eye, bouncing from shadow to shadow. “You see anything?”

“No,” he says, “do you sense anything?”

“Not without a little help,” John says. He flicks open his lighter, a small flame bursting forth. Spinning it in small, concentric circles, John whispers Latin until the fire grows in size. It changes from a bright orange to an enchanting blue, hopping off the lighter. Dancing around John, the flame drifts over to Batman and circles him.

“What is this?”

“A little tracking spell,” John shrugs, watching the fire shift dangerously close to Batman’s cape. Only to veer suddenly on a different curve. “Like our own will o’ the wisp. It’ll follow the energy of the person we’re looking for.”

“You sure it’ll work?”

“I believe it will. And with magic that’s half the battle.” They fall into silence as the flame finally flies from Batman. Darting towards the right, it hovers by a faded poster briefly until it charges through it. Burning the poster to a crisp. “Now that’s one way to find a secret entrance!”

Batman huffs, cape fluttering after him while he leaves to follow John’s wisp.

“It was no problem at all, Batty Boy… I can show you how to do it after we’ve wrapped this up… right…”

John chases the detective before he fades from sight.

Past the poster was an ominous staircase descending into the bowels of the Earth. A little on the nose for a demon, but John bets she didn’t have much time to decorate to her liking. If she wanted to cause dread to bloom in the hearts of her enemies, she hit the nail on the head.

Distracting himself from all the horrors waiting for them at the end of the staircase, of what Blythe might have done to him - John guesses why Batman stepped from off his pedestal for such a personal vendetta that didn’t involve him.

From his earlier display John doubts the League knows he’s here. Asking about Zatanna, like she sent John there to fetch the errant hero. Like John wasn’t the whole reason Blythe had a valuable bargaining chip that could fetch her ten kingdoms in Hell. And then the violent outburst at finding out John was at the root of their problem...

John faced down angels and demons alike yet none made him want to cower from the full force of their glare like Batman. If he were able to smite John wouldn’t even have atoms left.

“So,” he starts, voice echoing in the cavernous staircase, “how did you figure out this was the place to find him.”

“Clues.”

“Any elaboration on that or…?”

“ No .”

John sighs, fiddling with his lighter. “Look, I get it. You’re worried… so am I. Blythe she - she’s done this once before, to someone I care about. The first time didn’t end so well and I… I’d really hate it if something were to happen to him. He… he doesn’t deserve it. So you can trust me on this, I’m here to help .”

Batman pauses, John nearly slamming into him. He slowly cranes his neck and reveals half his face in the light of the wisp. John bites back a gasp, surprised at the venom dripping from his features. The words of encouragement were supposed to fling the bullseye from his person, except John managed to tattoo it to his forehead.

“ Care ?” Batman asks, “I don’t know what personal stake you think you have in this but - but you do not get it. Not at all . So stay out of the way, let me save him, and we’ll never have to see each other again. Understand ?”

The wisp snuffs out their light before he can answer. In its place thousands of candles lighting the walls. Reveals the true darkness of the stretch below them, how one misplaced foot could lead to an eternity of falling. Thankfully the stairs end in a few steps.

Right by the door, where they will most definitely find Blythe waiting for them inside.

Batman nearly knocks him over with his cape, closing the distance to the door. “Like I said,” he reminds John, “stay out… of the way…”

John fixes his jacket, glaring at the disgruntled detective. “Seriously,” he mutters, “what did I step in to have to deal with this team-up?”

Closing the gap, they walk confidently into Blythe’s lair - sure that a trap awaits them. On first glance John doubts his first conclusion. Nothing about the gauzy drapery or the lazy river littered with reeds and lily pads seemed dangerous. All the deadliness sucked into the mannequin posed elegantly across a blood red chaise lounge.

“Oh John! I was waiting for you,” Blythe crows, dumping her wine glass over top a stout demon with a tray soldered to his horns. “And you brought a guest! I warned you about that didn’t I… but I guess I’ll forgive it for such a handsome devil he is…”

“I didn’t bring him,” John defends, jerking his thumb at his dour companion, “He and I are after the same thing… separately.”

“Of course. Because that makes absolute sense…”

“Cut the bullshit,” Batman growls, “where is he?”

Blythe shifts her features into faux innocence, tapping a sharp nail to her chin. “Hmm… he … I haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re talking about - oh !” The illusion shatters, a shark’s grin cracking her face. “ Of course … how could I forget! He’s been such a lovely guest…” She claps her hands, a figure shuffling from out of the shadows.

John chokes on air as he sees the haggard slump of Barry’s body. Arms swinging while he walks, Barry stumbles into view. His skin lost the golden tan he remembered, instead a sickly pallor that makes his heart stutter.

Batman drifts closer, shaking. “Barry…” he whispers. His shoulders droop for a moment. In the next, they climb back to where they were. Stiff and ready for combat. “What have you done to him?”

“Nothing too noticeable ,” she coos, reaching up to squish his cheeks together. Forcing drool to dribble down his chin. “I think he looks like every other adult his age. Lifeless, hopeless, without a soul -”

“You took his soul?” John yells.

Blythe smirks, revealing a glowing amulet around her neck. It crackles with unbridled power, a wild storm trapped within. “It looks absolutely lovely. I’ll be the envy of every creature when I return with it.”

“Like hell you will!” He spits a quick spell into his hand, summoning a fireball to hurl at her. It passes between her and Flash, Blythe flinching out of its path. Barry remains frozen.

She snarls, “If that’s the game you want to play…” Four more arms erupt from her sides as she stands, green fire crackling in her palms. John curses when she launches all of them like a catapult. He skitters to the side, hiding behind a column.

Readying another spell, John sees Batman opposite him fire two bat-a-rangs at Blythe. She catches them both, only they explode and coat those hands with quick drying foam. “Disgusting!” she screams, “Don’t you know how difficult it is to get this type of blood as nail polish?”

John smirks, “Doesn’t matter what you paint ‘em love, it won’t help you look better.”

Another fireball chars the marble pillar, a few embers too close to his skin. He waits for another barrage of attacks to move. Runs over to Batman’s newest hiding spot behind a large, wooden chest while summoning a line of spectral knives in his wake. They fly for Blythe.

Skidding next to Batman, he sees Blythe dodging knife after knife. “Damn…”

“Pretty good trick,” Batman says, prepping a few more of his weapons, “where’d you learn it?”

“Your girl Zatanna -”

“Not my girl -” “Used it on me after a bad night in Vegas when I wouldn’t leave. Not that it did much good. She’s more powerful than before.”

“So,” Batman frowns at him, “how do we defeat her?” “Usually it wouldn’t be so easy,” John tells him, “I could do a quick banishing spell, send her to Hell like all the other times. But if I did it now, where she goes Barry does, too.”

“How did he get involved in all this?” Batman asks, “Why go after him?”

John finds a loose cigarette in his pocket and lights it, sucking on the bitter smoke. “Because she knew it’d hurt me.”

He can’t explain further, their shield splintering from a concussive force. John hears a splash, Batman no doubt landing in the river. John luckily skids close enough for his fingers to dangle at the edge. Quickly he pulls them close, in time to dodge the piranha-esque demon jumping up to feast on him.

Safety isn’t long. Blythe grabs his jacket, pulling him up until his feet dangle. Tips of his shoes scuffing the floor.

She drags him close enough he can smell the hideous sulfur-and-carnation perfume she wears. See the lines in each hideously sharp tooth. “I could do so many things to you,” she says, “To make up for all the knives you planted in my back -”

“Had to…” he huffs, struggling in her grasp, “Otherwise it’d be the other way around. And I can’t recover as fast as you can.”

Blythe caresses his face with a free hand, nails digging into skin hard enough to draw blood. “You talk big, John. But you’re as weak as every other human. Let your heart lead you even though it hurts itself thousands of times. Provide fodder for the many enemies you create by existing .”

John chuckles, “You been talking to my dad?”

“Oliver was one thing but him …” Blythe looks at Barry, souring his routine. “Do you know the number of demons wanting to carve their name into the soul of a hero ? You’ve given me the best kind of gift I never could’ve asked for…”

He glances behind at where Barry’s soulless body rests, his eyes gazing at him with a frightening emptiness inside. John never prays for himself, and the few times he does it’s for other people more deserving. Barry Allen deserves a miracle, and John Constantine is far from that.

But Batman delivers.

Jumping from the river, he latches onto Blythe’s neck with a shout. She drops John to fend off Batman’s attack, stumbling around due to the other man’s grapple.

“John!” Batman shouts, “Now! Do it now!” He stabs her shoulders with bat-a-rangs, Blythe’s screams shaking the room. Batman drops and rolls away, over to John. “John!” “But what about -”

Batman dangles Barry’s soul in his sand, the chain wrapped around his fist.

John pauses briefly, in awe of the soul. He breaks from the spell when he hears Blythe’s cursing and metal clattering to the floor. Nodding, John stands and begins chanting the exorcism.

“You can’t do this to me again!” Blythe screams, stomping towards them, “Every time you send me there I come back angrier. Tougher. More vicious.” The ground under her feet begins crumbling, hellfire shooting upwards. “You can’t save anyone . His soul was damned the moment he allowed you into his bed!”

Columns fall around them, crushed by debris. Batman turns to him, “What’s going on?”

“This whole place is coming down around us!” he yells over the roar of demolition, “Grab our boy and make a run for it. Otherwise we’ll be seeing more of Blythe!”

John finishes the incantation, watching Blythe’s shadow disappear. He then spins on his heel and follows Batman up the stairs, Barry over his shoulder. Steps crumble as he jumps off them. Racing to the top, they keep running until they’re outside the warehouse where they began.

Panting, John leans against a few crates. “That’s my cardio for the year…”

No time for rest, Batman grabs his lapels and drags him over to where Barry stands still soulless. “ Fix him .”

“All right, mate, the hardest part’s over… Hand me his soul.” Batman carefully gives John Barry’s soul, his inner lighting snapping against the container. Holding it feels like being stung by a thousand loving jellyfish or covered in a large blanket that carries a fantastic amount of static cling. His skin puckers and hair stands on end. “Okay, love,” he whispers to the soul, “time to get you home…”

Muttering a quick spell, John cups the soul ever so daintily in his hand. Then he slams his fist into it, shattering the glass.

Batman jumps him, “What’re you -”

“Easy,” he says, pointing, “look!”

The soul flies around, a storm cloud pulsing with life. It zips between Batman and John - brushing affectionately against the former’s head for far too long - and circles Barry’s body. Growing in size, the soul obscures Barry leaving only a shadow. Glowing brightly, it seeps into his skin.

Barry gasps for breath, life returning to him. “God,” he sighs, collapsing to the ground, “what happened?”

“Wouldn’t bother asking Them, love,” John says, lighting his third cigarette of the hour, “They had nothing to do with where you were.”

Batman helps Barry to his feet, arms wrapped around his sides protectively. Barry leans into the embrace, resting against the brooding hero. John watches with interest as Gotham’s knight speaks in the softest of whispers against the shell of Barry’s ear, the speedster nodding every few seconds.

Feeling ignored, John clears his throat. Both of them turn to him. “Listen, Barry,” John starts, scratching his neck, “I want to apologize for what happened back there -”

“John…”

“If it weren’t for me, Blythe never have pinged you on her radar -”

“John -”

“And I’d understand if you’d never want to see me again -”

“ John .”

He casts a baleful gaze at the other man, shocked at the warmth coloring his features. “John,” he continues, “it’s okay. It wasn’t your fault.”

“But, but…” the smoke drifts off his cigarette, “if we’d never… and I hadn’t… don’t you regret what we did?”

Barry shakes his head. “No, of course not.”

Their silence is charged with the infinite possibilities of what could have been. John’s heart fills with memories of when their ships passed each other all those nights ago. Docking briefly at the same port, tied to the same post.

Now Batman interrupts, glaring at John. “What are you talking about?” he asks, “Why did that demon want Barry?”

It’s an awkward and intimate conversation, to be handled delicately. John steams through it with his stubborn charm. Reveals how Barry and he first met when he followed a trail of bodies to Central City on the hunt for a demon. Guessed the next bar he would target for his next victim. Only the demon wasn’t all he found waiting there.

Barry escaped to this place, even though alcohol wouldn’t affect him, for peace of mind. Where John goes, peace never stays. John didn’t realize who he was at first, and chatted him up while waiting for the demon.

“I looked miserable.”

“And hot .”

While distracted, John missed the demon slither away with another villain. After figuring out who Barry was, he convinced Barry they should work together to take the monster down. It took all his best charms to win the argument.

“Ran out,” John shrugs, “Couldn’t even attempt to get him to carry me everywhere in his big, strong arms.”

Barry laughs, shoving him weakly. “Shove it.”

“Gladly.”

Throughout their investigation John continued flirting with Barry. Noticed with each new compliment the walls were crumbling. When he thought he had a chance, though, the demon appeared and grabbed Barry.

“Found him, though,” John says, “Wasn’t hard to track him… Got to him in good time, too. Not many people can resist the wiles of an incubus.”

When John found them, the incubus’s mirage had faded. Leaving the horned, crocodile-faced killer striking at places Barry stood. He joined the fray immediately, firing off a lightning spell that electrocuted the demon.

Together they sent the demon to Hell. “And without thought,” John tells Batman, “I asked if I could shower off the skunk of the demon’s final attack. Real stinker it was.”

Barry agreed, showing John where he lived. After a steamy shower and a low-slung towel, John tried one last flirting attempt.

“And the rest was history…”

Batman scowls, glaring at him. “You two slept together?”

“Only once,” Barry says, rubbing Batman’s wrist, “I was questioning a lot at the time… and he really helped me figure out exactly how I felt about... certain things .”

“Oh, is that what you’re calling it?”

“John…”

Batman’s expression twitches with the faintest traces of curiosity. “What?”

He grins, tapping the excess ashes off his cigarette. “Ol’ Barry was hung up on some daft loon he didn’t know he had feelings for. Wasn’t sure if what he felt was attraction or friendship and… what was it? Wanted to see if you could be attracted to another guy, yeah? I think I helped you sort through those things mighty well given the three orgasms you had.”

“Three,” Batman chokes, gaping at Barry, “you had… three ?”

Barry blushes under the scrutiny. “So?”

Delighting in the other man’s embarrassment, John continues poking. “And we cuddled. Little ol’ spoon, he is,” he winks, chuckling. With Barry’s face beet red, John lays off the nipple twisting. “In the end, though, he let me know where we stood. His heart belonged to some other luckybastard…” Smiling, he asks Barry. “Did you ever tell him how you felt?”

Nodding, Barry glances at Batman. His hand rubs his chin affectionately. “Yeah… he knows.”

John drops his cigarette, shocked. Batman’s face shifts into a smug mask as he tugs Barry closer to him, pressing their faces together. Presses his lips against Barry’s cheek as a claim. “Oh,” John says, “um… congratulations?”

“Thanks, John,” Barry says, pulling away from Batman. Stretching, he continues talking. “If you ever need me, feel free to reach out. Even if it’s just for coffee… I’m not going to hold this against you, and you shouldn’t beat yourself up about it.” Barry speeds over to Batman, scooping him in the blink of an eye. “Get home safely!”

They disappear, leaving a dust cloud to put out the smoldering embers of John’s cigarette.

As it clears, John feels a seed of happiness blossoming in his heart. Because while Barry might not be his, he has someone who can love him the way John can’t.

And that’s all that matters.

[petty--dabbler]

Tomorrow Doesn't Exist | Playlist Rewind

WHO: John Constantine and a host of others (special mentions: @themanbeneaththehood and @whitecanary-lance - both used with love) WHAT: Playlist Rewind - 2015 - Brief snapshots of what happened between Constantine's abrupt ending and the phone call in Arrow WARNINGS: Mentions of death, mentions of alcohol abuse (come on, it’s John, he’s almost always trashed), possible Crisis spoiler-ish (maybe??)

Can't feel anything, when will I learn // I push it down, push it down

“She's gone, John.”

John looked up at the large bulk of a man at the foot of the bed. Despite the brave face and gentle unwavering voice, tears leaked from the man's eyes in a silent show of the sorrow he felt. John had no idea what his own face showed. He felt as hollowed out and lifeless as the hand he held between his own.

Failed again. How cruel it was that the good on this Earth was stolen and the damned remain?

John had always known that the world was a terrible place but there was a light that still held the darkness at bay. Not in that moment. The darkness had extinguished one more light and the world grew a little colder because of it.

John felt a solid hand on his shoulder...

Phone's blowin' up, they're ringin' my doorbell // I feel the love, feel the love

... a solid hand on his shoulder had John spinning on the bar stool, the world tilting slightly before a second hand on his other shoulder righted him.

“What are you doing, John?”

The voice, once so calm and patient, now full of the disgruntled weariness of a tired parent. John smiled at the familiar face, although he didn't really feel any reason to smile. A mask that any fool could see right through but none bothered to call him out on. Not like she did.

“Having a drink.” John’s words were a little slurred, as was his focus. “Join me.” He went to shrug off the hands on his shoulders but to no avail.

“Corrigan’s looking for you. Rang over a dozen times.” The grip on his shoulders tighten momentarily, as if that would sober him up to listen. They both knew better. Too long had they been in each other’s company to think otherwise.

There was a long pause, John regarding his oldest friend with an uncharacteristic stillness. The tiredness reflected in each other’s eyes. They had lost a battle but the war raged on. Time to regroup with what little troupes they had left. The Rising Darkness didn’t halt in it’s ascendance just because John Constantine wanted to throw in the towel. He couldn’t though. Damn his humanity.

“Well, we better not keep the good detective waiting.” John slid off the stool, walking toward the door and ignoring the barkeep that shouted after him to hurry up and pay his tab because the free booze wasn’t going to last forever. The thought had John chuckle.

Nothing was forever. John held onto that thought and wrapped it around himself as tightly as his tan trench coat. Nothing was forever and it was about time John Constantine had a win.

Gotta get out now, gotta run from this // Here comes the shame, here comes the shame

... about time John Constantine had a win. Ha! What a joke.

Jim Corrigan was a good man. He didn’t deserve the ending he got but it was a hero’s ending all the same. More than what could be said for John. Yet again the good were taken first and the damned remain.

Months passed. The Darkness had recoiled thanks to Jim Corrigan and his ascension to something greater. It was still present, lapping at the shores of light like the shallows at the beach, but they had time. It was a miracle. It still felt like a false victory.

Chas went back to his family. John could hardly blame him. They parted as friends. Brothers. But John still felt a stab of finality to it.

As the cold began to set in the north, John headed south for warmer weather. And warmer beds. Having no plan, he just rolled with whatever (or whomever) came his way.

One, two, three, one, two, three, drink // Throw em back till I lose count

... just rolled with whatever (or whomever) came his way. Including a phone call from Oliver Queen.

Star City had a darkness and grit that made even John’s skin crawl. And that was coming from someone who had made deals with demons and licked the gates of Hell. (Literally).

But Oliver had gifted him with an opportunity of redemption - not that the vigilante knew it. John was determined to bring back some light in the world and save one soul from being drowned in darkness.

Sara Lance. She woke with a gasp and wide blue eyes. A vision of life and light that John would never forget. Her family rejoiced in her revival. John - despite not knowing the woman all that well, at the time - couldn’t help the small laugh to himself.

He did it. John Constantine conquered death and darkness. One life ignited another and the hollow feeling dissipated, filling with a tiny flickering flame. Giving hope where there was none.

Keep my glass full until morning light, 'cause I'm just holding on for tonight // On for tonight // On for tonight

[agentmarymargaretskitz]

How do I find the perfect fit, there's enough for everyone

For @dextersgrifs, a Constangreen!

AO3

                             Everyone is born with a tattoo. Sometimes there are more than one, which means that you have multiple soulmates. Whatever the tattoo is represents a detail present when you first interact with your soulmate. Maybe it’s an image, maybe it’s a word. In some cases, very rare ones, the tattoo is geographic coordinates or a date. Regardless of the tattoo, it’s always relevant to the first meeting of soulmates.

~~~

              Gary Green is three years old when he finally learns about his tattoo and soulmates. It’s a dark blue chicken on his upper arm, like a shadow. His big brother’s is a squid above his knee with tentacles trailing down to his shin, which is much cooler than a chicken. His mom and dad both have a crescent moon above a cloud, but his dad also has a coin tattoo. When he starts asking questions one week, they sit him down on the porch one afternoon and explain it all to him.

“That tattoo is something that will be there when you meet your soulmate,” his mother tells him. “There will be a chicken there somewhere. When I met your dad, it was night and the moon had just become visible from behind a cloud.”

“But Daddy has two,” Gary points out to the spot on his father’s ribs.

“That’s true, Gar-bear,” says his dad. “I have another soulmate out there. I don’t know what it means exactly, but whatever happens, everything will be okay.”

That’s enough to satisfy Gary for the time being. He doesn’t notice his parents exchange a concerned glance above his head, knowing that she’s been having a few health problems lately and not all soulmates get happily ever after. They can tell Gary that later. Right now, JJ is screaming from the backyard, which probably means he’s stuck in the tree again and they better go before he breaks his arm.

~~~

              John Constantine finds out about soulmate tattoos early. It’s a lesson that he learns gradually over almost every night when Dad comes home smelling like beer or whiskey. He gets to hear that he doesn’t deserve a soulmate, not after he took away his father’s. John’s still learning not to cry or whine that he didn’t mean to. All he wants is to not feel that pain.

Cheryl fills him in with the questions he has that abuse hasn’t answered. “Yeah, you got a soulmate. I have one too. The tattoo is something around whenever you meet them. But it doesn’t always last.”

John stares at the blue chicken on his arm and wonders when he’ll meet his soulmate. Maybe they’ll be a good person. He doesn’t have a lot of hope though. There doesn’t seem to be much good in the world.

~~~

              Gary hates his tattoo once he starts school. The other kids use it to make fun of him when he’s feeling anxious. They call him a chicken. When he tries to protest, they don’t listen. The teachers tell him to ignore it, but that doesn’t help too much.

              It’s also been hard since his mom died. He misses her a lot. JJ and his dad miss her too, and so does Levi, but he’s just a baby. Aunt Stacy comes over a lot, which is nice. Plus, Dad’s dating someone new, a man who has a coin tattoo. Gary likes him and Dad’s happy, so that’s good.

He wonders if he’ll ever feel that happy.

~~~

              John finds people aren’t as kind about his chicken, but he learns that a sharp tongue and his fists can set them straight. It gets him into trouble, although there are worse bullies the teachers can preoccupy themselves with. He’s too smart for his own good and he can use that to his advantage. It helps being fast on his feet too.

              His father’s not getting any better, but John’s found an escape from him in magic. Not just slight of hand, but real proper magic. Whenever he can find material, he’ll read over it and practice. He’s been getting pretty good on it, maybe enough to make a life out of it.

Maybe his soulmate will be a magician.

~~~

              Gary starts hiding his tattoo in high school. He still gets teased over it except he’s used to the teasing now. There was a time when he tried to change it by covering it with a black Sharpie to make a new design, but it just made the teasing worse. It also earned him a sit down with his dads about how he was fine the way he was and that he’d find his soulmate one day.

              He tries to hold hope, but it’s hard. Some people have already met their soulmates and they haven’t even graduated yet. Not to mention he’s heard what people are saying about his soulmate. His classmates figuring out he likes boys and girls didn’t diminish the teasing.

Maybe it’s better to give up hope.

But maybe things could get better?

~~~

              John runs away from home before he can finish school. He put up with his father long enough and fought back with a spell, except it went wrong. So he ran until he was three blocks away and cried against the brick alleyway. His dad’s still suffering when he sneaks through the window to take some things with him for whatever’s next. There is no way he is coming back to this house.

              For a while, he lives out on the streets. Eventually, John finds what passes for kindred spirits. Other people who know about magic, not to mention demons that plague the world. They know things he doesn’t, ones he wants to learn. So he finds them and is taught.

He doesn’t find his soulmate, but it doesn’t bother him. He killed his mother, why should he be happy with a soulmate?

~~~

              Years pass and no soulmate crosses his path. He even spent a summer interning on a farm to try and tempt fate, but no such luck. Gary ends up doing research on soulmates, but can’t find a case where soulmates never meet. The closest he can get is meeting a soulmate at their death, so unless that’s how it happens, he doubts he will meet his.

              The dreams of finding his soulmate grow more and more distant, especially when he starts working for the government. A soulmate is seen as a liability and people are encouraged to cover their marks or desert their soulmates. Gary goes with the former, thankful for long sleeves.

Perhaps he’s not cut out for a soulmate.

~~~

              There have been failures before, but never this bad. Newcastle is an utter clusterfuck and John knows that it’s all his fault. He underestimated the demon and it got to Astra Logue. Her screams haunt his nightmares more often than not. John wants to forget it, but knows that he shouldn’t. It’s his punishment, along with the damnation thing.

              No soulmate has cropped up yet and he’s been bouncing all over the place. Even in the states, no such luck. It’s probably for the best after all. He’s a depressed chain-smoking petty dabbler of the dark arts. John decides to hell with the soulmate system. Stick a finger up at whoever came up for that idea. Love who you want, matching mark or not.

Yeah, perhaps he’s not cut out for a soulmate.

~~~

While the soulmates doubt each other, the universe has had a plan for them since their births.

              It finally happens in 2018 because of a lost girlfriend. A storm is brewing outside. Gary Green goes with Ava Sharpe to see John Constantine in order to track down the Waverider. John is in the apartment he won in a duel, helping a woman get her son married. Mid-ritual, the chicken gets scared and escapes his grasp.

              He’s just focused on getting the damn chicken back when two people burst in the door. John doesn’t know who they are, but he doesn’t want to let the chicken out of the room and asks for them to give him a hand. Gary is confused, but dives into action and corners the chicken. Once he’s got it, he hands it off to John. As the handoff occurs, they both remember their tattoos and they wonder if this is it, that moment.

Maybe they would discuss it, except there are more pressing issues at the moment.

They can talk later.

~~~

Later eventually comes, but it’s nearly a year after their first meeting. Along the way are a murderous unicorn, heartbreak, magic, demons, and reconciliation.

After all, the course of true love never did run smooth.

[directoravasharpe]

lucy’s spoilery thoughts on 4.01 (FINALLY)

under the cut is a literal scene by scene breakdown of the episode. i’m trying to pre-empt questions i might get but i’m sure i miss things but. eh 

the first scene cracked me up, with zari not being able to tell the beatles apart (very lesbian of you) and ray knwoing them all (very bi of you)

i loved the sequence in the waverider. i got sad wally is gone. i love nate’s kissy faces when ava calls, i love how sara goes soft when ava calls, i love how her face changes when her kids start making fun of her. the call between ava and sara is SO SOFT like wow i love them

i think it’s so funny that sara always uses that gary is scared of mick as the way to motivate him. gary’s ‘i wish’ about john getting him to squeal was fucking HILARIOUS #get gary laid

the surprise party is adorable. ava’s face when the confetti cannon fails is amazing, as is her face when gary doesn’t get out of the way. THE WAY SHE LOOKS AT SARA AND THE WAY SARA LOOKS AT HER just like. fuck me up

when they snuck of to have a ‘tour’ aka fuck in ava’s office was the first time i died these two women are not subtle AT ALL like come ON i know you’re both hot and horny and riding a high of fixing time but give me a BREAK. also idk why they shot sara so close up but i LOVE IT

the little dahrkatom bit was so cute, and i loveeee ray and zari’s friendship.

AND THEN THE BED SCENE. I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT TO /SAY/ IT’S SO SOFT THE WHOLE WAY THROUGH. how in love they are is SO OBVIOUS. sara is such a soft top. ava is such a soft bottom. she’s so NERVOUS about asking sara, and does all those cute hand gestures and sara is just. so reassuring and loving and THREE FUCKING BED KISSES EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU CW FOR LETTING US HAVE THAt.

ava’s look at the end literally KILLED ME she is SO SOFT AND IN LOVE I’M SO FUCKING. I LOVE HER SO MUCH MY LITERAL SOFT BABY CHILD

anyway they definitely had sex at the office and then at their house

the scene with john is so funny. he just fucking. turns up. to be like. stop having sex with ava and fix the damn timeline. and sara’s like. no i will not stop having sex with ava we have a House and a Throw now so you can suck it

i’m really incredibly glad that they didn’t make a bigger thing out of ava finidning them together - like it’s iNCREDIBLY sketchy but she is mostly joking when she’s like ‘should i be worried’ which is just. very nice. it shows they’re comfortable and that she doesn’t actually think there’d be a thing with john.

the nose boop was SO CUTE. and the neck kiss was EVEN CUTER BUT ALSO INCREDIBLY HOT LIKE WOW. and that smile that sara does at the neck kiss. they’re. so in love. also they have sex again before sara leaves i don’t make the rules they just do

the mick/nate stuff was very entertaining, and i’m interested to see what the hank/ava relationship looks like

i love love LOVE with a passion the scene where they all get to woodstock. it’s so funny and campy and i love the editing and it’s just. generally a joy. i love the hugs and high fives when they join up. i love my children.

i also love how low cut sara’s top is like everyone say thank you legends costume department

ray and nate are bronies which is. so cursed. murder unicorn is murdery, sara hides behind her teammates - classic sara. like obvs it’s just a plot device to make sure she doesn’t get high but still. very funny. poor zari and the blue goo.

john and his threesome cracked me up, as did nate and micks hallucination with the rat and nate’s dad, and the dahrkatom bit absolutely KILLED ME ray has such a crush wow

and then john trying to be all dramatic and telling sara she should ditch ava and like. it’s so refreshing to see sara pushing against that, and ACCEPTING being in a relationship and that it’s a good thing and not letting john be all doom and gloom

and then them seeing the high legends just. tops it all off it was SO FUNNY just like yes your kids are great sara but also right now they’re high

the bit where ray offers to cut off a finger like. baby boy. please. and like. why does sara know who john is talking about when he suggests a virgin. the answer is that gary tells ava about all of his escapades and so sara knows that he’s a  virgin and it is. terrible for both sara and ava

ALSO GOD SARA’S ARMS IN THAT SCENE. SHE LEGIT WORE TWO SLEEVELESS SHIRTS IN THAT EP IT’S WHAT I DESERVE

the whole scene where they’re convincing gary is. gold. so many good facial expressions from all of them

and then ‘are you sure im a virgin because that *hand gestures* thing we did’ like oh my god the writers are just like. going for it, huh. AND SARA’S EXPRESSION AFTER THAT JUST LIKE LOOKING AT JOHN LIKE ‘OKAY I SEE’

murder unicorn is murdery. not sure how gary’s hand didn’t get bitten off. sara throwing the knife was very hot.

‘maybe the bureau will up our ratings. people really do love the supernatural’ VERY META

RIP gary’s nipple

zari’s scene with ray was just. wow. astounding. i’m so glad theyre still going into her past, but, god. that scene was rough and important and SO EMOTIONAL my heart ACHES for her and it is. so horribly relevant rn. and it’s just like. god. she’s from the future but she was. alive in 2018 and it’s. so hard.

and then. god. GODDDD

THIS END SCENE. I CANNOT TELL YOU HOW MANY TIMES I HAVE WATCHED THIS END SCENE

sara coming home to ava. ava having COOKED FOR THEM. ava hanging up the medals because she’s endlessly proud of sara. ava going in for another neck kiss. that face sara makes before she confesses everything. the face ava is making when sara is confessing

i am never going to be over how you can SEE sara relax as ava says she knows. i’m also not over gary calling ava about his nipple. more proof he tells ava everything sexual. also the way ava says nipple rt your kink

AVA SAYS I LOVE YOU LIKE FUCK ME THE HELL UP LIKE /SERIOUSLY/ THEY’RE IN LOVE AND YES I’M SAD WE MISSED THEM GETTING TOGETHER AND THE FIRST I LOVE YOU FROM HER BUT G O D SEEING THEM JUST BE IN A COMFY PLACE IN THEIR RELATIONSHIP??? I WANT TO DIE

and when sara is like ‘even after constantine’ and ava is like ʸᵉᵃʰ ᵒᵏᵃʸ ᶦ ᵈᶦᵈⁿ'ᵗ ˡᶦᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵖᵃʳᵗ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵗᵃˡᵏ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᶜᵒⁿˢᵗᵃⁿᵗᶦⁿᵉ and it’s just like baby i love you but i’m so glad you love sara more than caring about that like wow development and she’s so reassuring and lovely and wow when can i get an ava.

and then we get another i lve you from sara and at this point i have died about a million times and ava’s smile when sara has her hands on her face is. so soft and lovely and THEY KISS AGAIN

and then sara ditches the living together thing but it’s OKAY because their relationship is going to GROW and they’re going to FIGURE IT OUT

AND THEN ANOTHER KISS AND AVA MOVES HER HAIR FOR NO APPARENT REASON WHICH MEANS THERE WAS SOMEONE TELLING  JES TO MOVE HER HAIR SO THE STANS COULD SEE OR SE JUST DID IT HERSELF LIKE WOW JES IS THE ONLY TRUE GAY ALLY

AND THAT KISS FUCKED ME UP SO MUCH AND I THOUGHT IT COULDN’T FUCK ME UP ANYMORE AND THEN IT ZOOMED OUT AND SARA’S LEGS ARE ON TOP OF AVA’S WHICH MEANS SHE’S BASICALLY I N  H E R  L A P AND I GENUINELY. ASCENDED.

and then there’s the scene with poor miserable john and i’m so hot for how sara says misrable and then some stuff with demons happens

ANYWAY THAT’S MY RECAP I HOPE I PRE-EMPTED MOST OF PEOPLE’S QUESTIONS BUT ALSO I’VE HAD A MONTH TO THINK ABOUT THIS SO I’M SURE I MISSED SOME STUFF OUT. ANYWAY. LUCY OUT.