CONTSTAN†INE.

@hellscouser

It wasn’t easy to sneak up on a sorcerer, but Bruce enjoyed the challenge. 

He landed in London early that morning, having received John’s note exactly thirty-two hours prior. It appeared in the steam on his bathroom mirror after what had previously been a very relaxing shower. The message was vaguely ominous and to the point, intriguing enough that Bruce deigned to follow up, even as it brought him so far outside of Gotham. He worried about the kids – he was always worrying about the kids, considering the state of the world these days – but the Manor was a fortress, and Alfred was more than capable of looking after them for a couple of days. 

After his arrival it had only been a matter of following the trail of booze and bad decisions perpetually left in John Constantine’s wake. His sleuthing, if such a rudimentary investigation could even be deemed as such, led him to a divey pub in Finsbury Park. He scoped out a place in the alleyway near the dumpsters, blending smoothly into shadows thrown against a cobblestone wall. Even London was a little quieter at two in the morning.

Eventually, a familiar pair of shoulders in an equally familiar trench coat stumbled through the back exit. Bruce stepped into the baleful yellow light, and crushed the end of a lit cigarette between the leather fingers of his gauntlet.

“Constantine,” he said, voice rough as gravel. “You wrote.”

downing the remainder of his pint, constantine grabbed his trenchcoat off the hook, frantically searching for his pack of silk cuts in the shallow pockets, he hobbled out into the alleyway just as he managed to grab one from the packet, lighting the tip with his zippo. he took a deep inhale, only for it to be stubbed out by the figure lurking in the shadows. his eyes widened, in this intoxicated state, it took a moment for the scouser to register who exactly it was and once he did, a snicker cracked through his smirk. "nasty habit, that is." he cocked a brow, discarding the squished cigarette and reached for another. "you’re sounding a bit like you had one too many, bats." he flicked his lighter open, scorching the end of his new cigarette and he took a puff in the man's masked face. "aye, i did, didn't i? and here you are, at my beck and call." john grinned broadly, giving the caped crusader's shoulder a nudge, before turning to depart the alleyway. 

“nah, you live and learn through them. they bloody well should though, the lot of them would be a lot better off without me fuckin’ up their lives.”

“bruce wayne.”

“best go asking her that. she’s a fickle one, that zee.”

“i’m not about to go recommending it, but it’s not too bad when ya know the right demons. all depends on what reputation you got down there with those blighters.”

* A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE SENTENCE STARTERS / @gvmbits​

* A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE SENTENCE STARTERS / @harlccnquinn​

send me a ‘kiss’ to see where I’d kiss you. / @harlccnquinn

hand | forehead | cheek | ear | lips | neck | elsewhere 

send me a ‘kiss’ to see where I’d kiss you. / @hcwkfire

hand | forehead | cheek | ear | lips | neck | elsewhere

“been there, done that, got the bloody t-shirt. don’t think i’ll be doing it again, mind. too much heartbreak involved all round that not even a few dozen barrels of whiskey could mend. best to remain alone, if you ask me.”

four word prompts / @harlccnquinn​

so, maybe inviting a mortal to a demon gathering wasn’t the best idea john has had, but nor was attending such an event in the first place. however, harley was the former flame to one of the biggest psychopaths in gotham, some of his actions may have even been worse than what some of their company had done. “don’t mind ‘em, love.” he tried to reassure her with a pat on the back and a glass full of drink, tapping his own against hers. “as long as you don’t go tradin’ off your soul or drop your knickers for an incubus, you’ll have a grand ol’ time.”

by now, remy had gotten more and more comfortable with going out publicly without finding a need to hide. his eyes were glaringly obvious to anyone who looked, but if anyone noticed, they were either too afraid to say anything or just ignored him altogether. then there were the sentinels. remy’s solution? blow a hole through them. he figured that was a better plan than having none at all, but he hoped he wouldn’t have to use it just yet. remy brushed his hair back, eyes sweeping across the street. by chance, he caught sight of a man not too far from him, a box of cigars clutched in the man’s hand. this perked his interest. remy had quit long ago, but   it didn’t stop him from instantly becoming alert whenever he was in proximity to them. he grinned when the man tucked the box into a pocket and remy pushed up from where he was leaning against. as he came up from behind him, his hand slipped casually into the man’s pocket, pulling them out in one delicate yet swift motion before leaning an arm on the man’s shoulder. “you look like you’ve had a rough day,” he told the man, tossing up the box in one hand and catching it with the other. “i’d imagine it’d be a lot worse if ya lost dese, mon ami. you’re gonna have tah be more careful ‘bout keepin’ your things betta kept or else someone might try’n take em like i just did.” // @hellscouser

this is where john belonged. some shithole excuse of the world he once knew. drowning his thoughts in whatever bar he could find, it didn't take long before he ended up in some sort of fight, resulting in his immediate removal from the said building. pulling out a cigarette as he walked down the pathway, he placed the pack back into his pocket, searching his other for a lighter. he felt the man's arm, turning immediately with the cigarette hanging from his lips. "ain't they all?" he remarked with a pessimistic scoff, then noticed the box of silk cuts in the other's hand. his brand. john’s eyes narrowed, reaching to snatch them back off him. that was when he noticed the darkened eyes and a smirk quirked on the magus' lips as he let go, his hand slipping back into his pocket for his lighter. "yeah? what you gonna do, blast my bollocks off with your beamin' bloody eyes?" he lit the cigarette, glare still locked on the other man. "keep 'em, mate. you might be needing them more than i do."

[ ✠ ] it’s three in the morning and my muse unexpectedly arrives at your muse’s home. / @ofcmens

after yet another night filled with pub crawls, john had settled back into his apartment, collapsing on the couch in front of the television, still switched on as there was a faint knock at the door. he chose to ignore it at first, until the thud seemed to get louder as it continued. “who the fuck could that be?” he mindlessly said to himself as he staggered towards the door, pulling off the chain. once he finally managed to open all the latches, surprised would be an understatement for how john felt. shocked, bewildered by the woman who stood before him. “this must be some kinda bad omen.” elbow rested on the doorway, he snorted at his own pun, then attempted to lift his head, “ah, so this is gonna be the last thing i’m gonna see before i die.” he rolled his back onto the wall beside him, letting lilith enter as he grabbed the crumpled cigarette he’d placed behind his ear earlier. “at least let me light up before you take me, love. for a bit of old times sake.”

“if you’re looking for an artiste to pull something warm n’ fuzzy out of a soddin’ hat, you should try giving zee a bell.”

“the office” season 4/5 sentence starters / @victoryforged

“not the worst i’ve been called,” a smirk curled on his lips as he took a toke of his cigarette. “but i’m the only idiot here who knows the right tricks to pull to get us out of this mess, darlin’.” john flicked his cigarette to the ground and with a clap of his hands the smoke began to arise. “now you might want to stand back, love. wouldn’t want to singe those lovely horns of yours.”