Gabaii

The Origin of Love (1/2) Embrace

This is one of the doujinshi I published some time ago. I've always wanted to contribute something to this lovely fandom that has meant so much to me. To everyone in this fandom who made me happy—thank you. I hope this little gift brings you joy.

Recently, I've been going through a tough time, and it feels like I've just come out of a long tunnel. I'm trying to get back into drawing again.

It’s so good to see you all again. How have you been?

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This notice was machine-translated. If anything is unclear, feel free to contact me via Tumblr or Postype.

If Samira put in an order, there was a reason. I trust her. Maybe you should too.

some doods of the inquisition-era dao gang

SNAKE FIGHT!🐍🐍

When Chief Frostbite had agreed to become The Great One's primary care physician he had thought it would be an easy task. After all the young halfa had defeated Pariah Dark, he probably did not get injured often. This would be a small way to repay him.

He had. Vastly. Underestimated. The situation.

The Great One began coming to him, constantly. Bodily injuries and illnesses caused by fights with other ghosts and ghost hunters. He had never had a patient who needed his care so frequently.

Still it would have been managable if The Great One were a normal ghost. But his halfa nature complicated things beyond Frostbite's ken.

It had been millenium since he was alive, and when he was he was not a human being. Living human biology was something he had never encountered. He didnt know how to correctly set a broken human bone, or how to repair a damaged organ. By the ancients he didnt even know what the purpose of each organ was, nor even where they were meant to be inside the body.

Within a month, he did something that as a healer he had not had to do in a long time.

He called for a consult.

He made a request for the ghost of a human doctor, one who had died as recently as possible and was more experienced with human surgical practices. Thankfully a ghost and his wife came to his call. In life Thomas had been a surgeon and was more than happy to once again practice his craft. Martha was keen to act as his assistant. Frostbite offered them a place in his village, a safe place with plenty of resources in exchange for help with the Great One.

The next time the Great One flew in, leaking blood and ectoplasm with a bone sticking out of his leg at a jaunty angle, Thomas was ready. It was the quickest healing session the Great One had needed yet!

"Well Chum, looks like you get into a lot of trouble. A real hero you are." Thomas said, to the Great One. "Reminds me of my son!"

"Oh really? Who is your son?"

"Batman of course!"

“Whose sidekick is this?” Barry asks.

Everyone in the watchtower turns to look at the skinny, black-haired teenager sitting patiently in the corner. He’s got big round blue eyes, and smiles and waves at the heroes when they look at him. He would be perfect bat-bait if he weren’t also the picture of innocence.

(Every Robin in existence has had an unmistakable aura of menace around them.)

That wide-eyed innocence is precisely why it’s such a surprise when the kid answers “I’m here with John Constantine”

“John Constantine?” Zattana asks, bewildered and worried all at once. She knows better than most how it feels to be burned by Constantine, and is instantly angry on the kid’s behalf.

“Someone call?” The man himself asks, as he steps into the room, bag of chips in hand.

“Why do you have an apprentice?” Zattana demands, accusatory.

John tsks and frowns, directing his next words towards the teen in question, “I told you no, kid.” Then he turns back to Zattana and the room at large, and says, “I’m dropping this kid off here. He’s being hunted by the US feds. Hole in the meta human rights bill. He is not,” John’s eyes slide back over to the kid, “my apprentice.”

The kid (and someone should really ask his name, sooner or later) frowns and crosses his arms. Now he looks more like a Robin.

“And why not?” He whines. “You’ve been teaching me just fine so far. I haven’t even been that annoying!”

“Son, no,” Hal Jordan speaks up from the back. “You’re lucky to have made it this far, you don’t want to spend any more time in Constantine’s company than necessary.”

Zattana nods and says, “he’s got a habit of sacrificing others. It’s usually for the greater good, but still… you don’t want to be the nearest convenient sacrifice.”

“Really feeling the love in here.” John mutters.

“Well… it’s true, isn’t it?” Dick shrugs apologetically.

“Not to mention you’re just a bad role model in general.” Hal tacks on with a shit-eating grin.

“Is that all?” The kid asks.

“Do you… need more?” Dick asks. “Betrayal in a life-or-death situation isn’t a small thing, kiddo.”

The kid (and really, someone needs to ask his name. And also get the report on that hole in the meta rights) just looks at John with a supremely unimpressed expression. “Y’know I haven’t been relying on you for my safety this whole time, right? We were always safe, I just stuck with you to learn magic.”

“Danny, what the hell,” John says.

Ah, so the increasingly-more-Robin-like kid’s name was Danny. Good to know.

Danny shrugs, and says with a smug smile, “the night before we left Amity Park, I contacted an omniscient time-god from another dimension and blackmailed them into giving me forewarning for any dangerous situations I might get into. I think the specific wording was ‘enough forewarning to be able to escape any situation resulting in my death, capture, torture, loss of powers, or sanity.’”

The watchtower is completely silent for a count of three.

Then Dick snorts.

“Did… did John Constantine get conned?” Barry asks with glee.

“God I hope so…” Zattana breathes.

“I really appreciate you taking me this whole way, though.” Danny says to John. “I definitely want to get a few autographs.” He says with an innocent smile.

It’s at this moment that it sinks in for the whole room that a kid tricked John Constantine into traipsing across some portion of America with him for no reason.

Hal doubles over laughing.

“You’ve been blackmailing a god this whole time?” John checks, face blank.

“Uh huh,”

“You were able to trick an omniscient being, and now have struck a deal for divine intervention any time you’re in danger?”

“Yup,” Danny pops the ‘p’

“You’ve been wheedling magic lessons out of me for weeks with the full knowledge that my only reason for sticking around — to safely get you to the watchtower — was a complete waste of my time because you are effectively safe for the rest of your life in every situation forever?”

“Uh, yes? To be clear, Clockwork won’t intervene in situations where I can handle it myself. But if I’m ever in over my head, then they’ll show me a solution.”

The room is filled with poorly concealed grins, and not-at-all concealed appraising looks. After a long moment, John finally throws his hands up in the air.

(A DPxDC prompt)

Danny needed cash.

While Gotham was a cheap city (why else would anyone choose to stay) he still needed money.

Thanks to his stint as a teen vigilante turned interdimensional prince, Danny didn’t have the grades to get a scholarship. Plus a rogue attack and destroyed the dorms meaning Danny now needed to get an apartment, preferably one with no roommates as his last ones kept thinking he was dead when he was asleep.

The problem, actual legitimate jobs were scarce and he had promised Jazz he wouldn’t get involved with anything shady.

Danny needed money quick but using the Ghost King’s treasury was not an option, you try turning that shit into cold hard cash without using the black market.

So here he was, sitting in a crappy coffee shop that didn’t even have good pastry’s, scrolling through job finding sites and hoping he wouldn’t have to ~ugh~ ask Vlad.

That’s when he saw it.

Wanted: Engineer. No formal education needed. All parts and tools provided. Must be willing to sign NDA and work with free spirited artists with a vision.

And the number of zeros on the potential paycheck made Danny snort/choke on his dark roast.

The ad even mentioned the job could be a gateway to other local creatives who needed someone to bring their vision to life.

That amount of money, future commissions and nothing that would set off Jazz’s disapproval glare

Duncan, the regretful 💧 Five of Cups

Had the pleasure of painting this piece and two others for @dragonageannual 2026 zine! It was so much fun working on this and seeing other people's art and writing!

Process under the cut