A/N: Thanks to the Flarrowverse Shipyward, I have found a new rarepair. So, this is a tale about Larry Trainor from Doom Patrol and John Constantine. And how they met each other through an unconventional set-up. This is also a gift to KEO for making me ship them.^^
Word Count: 722
TW: None, except Larry being insecure I guess
***
Nightfall proved to be a time, where caution proved to be necessary. Larry walked down, approaching a bench to sit down. He occupied a corner, lifting his head up.
The sky looked slightly dark with the moon as it's only source of light.
He shuddered at cold air surrounding him. The only reason he went out to this desolated park had been because of Rita's suggestion. She had told him she set him up to meet someone, who she met recently. A streetlamp was his only company for now. He had to wait for that person, who might eventually show up by midnight.
A clandestine meeting at midnight? Yeah, right. Why would Rita think this would be a good idea, again?
The last time he did anything like this was with John. And it went away quickly as it happened. Before he could have an opportunity to react, of course.
"Evening over there," a smooth and amused voice said near him. "Quite a get-up you got there, you enigmatic bloke."
He detected a British accent in that voice. Okay, so Rita had met a British guy, deciding he should meet him?
When Larry tilted his head low, he saw a white man with rumpled dark blonde hair and a face covered with facial hair to match. In a light brown trench-coat with a red tie and white shirt beneath it. Carrying an air of confidence, which he used to have.
"Hi," Larry replied, waving awkwardly at him. "I apologize if. . . if this wasn't what you were expecting."
"No, don't be." The man sauntered towards the bench, taking a seat on the other spot. "Your friend did tell me what to expect but I didn't imagine this."
"Oh. I didn't know that."
Well, she did mention the guy would be blonde. Witty in a rogue manner as well. He could see that along with pain concealed underneath it. Or maybe he might be projecting his worries onto a stranger but he could tell.
The man threw an arm over the bench, his hand a few inches away from touching Larry on the shoulder. He stayed where he was, determined to not get any closer. It never went well for anybody.
"If you'd like to get drunk out of your misery," the man started. "Perhaps, I can cast a spell to help you out with that. A potion might do a trick or two too."
"What?" Larry asked, his heart rate spiking higher. "Is that what this is all about?"
"Of course, love." The man cackled.
His throat closed at the endearment, which the man blurted out so casually. Back then, even. . . he dislodged the memory from his head.
"Please. Don't call me that."
The guy tossed his hands up slightly.
"Alright, if you wish."
At least, the guy couldn't see his face, Larry thought with gratitude. With his disfigurement and most of the radiation covered, he didn't have to anything to worry about. Except for one thing, of course. His sheer embarrassment and lack of experience in these types of situations.
Larry cleared his throat.
"Who are you exactly?"
The man pulled a cigar out from a pocket.
"Some refer to me as a dabbler of the dark arts, a person who walks with shadows as his only companion. Exorcist, demonologist, among other bloody terms associated with it. Most people who knew me? Call me John Constantine if you will."
John. A tidal wave almost smacked him square at his chest at that little discovery. He had heard about a warlock roaming around the streets of Missouri and Liverpool, mainly. But he didn't know his name.
Forcing himself to not lose it, he shifted in his seat.
"And I'm Larry Trainor," he said, breaking the silence. "I have a spirit of some sort that lives in me. That's all there is to me really."
The negative spirit stayed dormant within him for a few hours now, so it was strange he didn't receive any message from it.
Constantine raised his brows. "Really? Is it all there is to you? Or is there something else you prefer to not share? I get it, things get rough."
"Something else," Larry admitted with conviction. "I don't want to talk about it."
And not so soon.
"No problem for me?" Constantine's face lit up with a grin. "Alright then. . . where shall we start?"
I decided to try my hand at the latest challenge by @flashfictionfridayofficial! I don’t often write poetry, but this just came to me. Hopefully you’ll enjoy!
Word Count: 116
We meet at midnight
Under the jacaranda tree
We meet at midnight,
Two souls drawn together
Undercover of the moonlight.
We meet at midnight
The world behind us a distant dream
We meet at midnight
Exchanging kisses that taste like ice cream
At midnight, we meet,
My heart in your hand
At midnight, we meet
Catch me if you can.
We meet at midnight
Shivering in the crisp October air
I kiss you deeply
Light rain dampens your hair
We meet at midnight
Too exhausted to speak
We let our fingers do the talking
We let our bodies embrace
At midnight, we feel complete.
“....back-ups continue past the exit for Mass Ave...”
Her fingers itched to flip the radio off as she descended from I-395 into the tunnel. Time stood at the entrance, peering in at the overhead yellow lane lights. It didn’t matter the hour, the tunnel was eternal.
At the moment, it was also filled with angry red tail lights and the overlapping, muffled playlists of pissed off drivers. The radio skipped through static, clinging to the last vestige of the outside world.
Sweat trickled down the back of her neck, that very specific late-for-something-and-stuck-traffic feeling washing over her.
Ten minutes.
She had time.
Someone laid on their horn, getting angry glares and muffled curses.
“Whadda want me to do about it?” the Hyundai driver with an out of state accent yelled.
She inched past on the right as the shouts escalated.
Five minutes.
The traffic rolled to a complete stop. Taillights mixed with the tunnel lighting, glistening on the tiled walls. The closed-in space amplified the rumble of exhausts.
A light up sign on her right informed her it was 365 feet to the emergency exit in one direction and 432 feet on the other.
Her hands slipped on the steering wall, sweat greasing her palms.
Two minutes.
A siren echoed behind her, an ambulance forcing them all to hug the sides and then fight their way back in. Her heart was in her throat.
The radio had finally, mercifully, descended into pure static.
“You’re late.”
“There should not be others around,” the shapeless void in the passenger seat stated.
“You’re still late.”
“Perhaps you should have come at a wiser time.”
“What do you want me to do about this?” she asked, waving a hand at the traffic in front of her. “Accidents are your domain.”
“It isn’t one of mine.”
The words sent a shiver down her spine, one she tried hard to suppress. In futility, the Void noticed all, seeing right through her bravado.
“You should not have come,” it said, as they crept passed a CRV were a child screamed at her passenger and then excitedly tried to get their mother’s attention.
Red, white, and blue flickered off the curve of the subway tile in her rear view mirror.
“We don’t have much time.”
“You’re the one with the time consuming rituals,” she muttered under breath.
The cops choose to run the shoulder, streaking past. The Void was staring at her reproachfully. She could feel it.
“Again, not my fault there’s traffic at midnight.”
“Excuses are a dangerous game.”
They were stopped, fifteen feet from the end of the tunnel, she could see moonlight pouring onto the sidewalk.
“Do you wish to renegotiate our deal.”
It wasn’t a question so much as an out. Straight to hell or the long way round? She gripped the steering wheel tighter and lifted her chin.
“No.”
The dam broke and the cars rolled forward, drifting past the flashing emergency lights and mangled corpses of cars, flames licking at the undercarriage of a cherry red Mustang.
Her passenger seat was empty.
“Do not disappoint me,” a non-existent voice whispered in her head. “Or you will be next.”
Her hands gripped the steering wheel, resolve as grim as the sharpened blade on the seat next to her.
[Image Description: a blue and white banner, similar to a cloudy night sky. The line “#FFF68 We meet at midnight” is written in white letters at the center. End ID.]
Like all weeks, thanks to the wonderful guys at @flashfictionfridayofficial for this!
I had two ideas in mind for this one, both of them regarding the backstories of two characters from my wip Magicians of Sky and Sea, but in the end I picked the one that sounded the most interesting.
So here it is!
Title: The Bribe
Warnings: none.
We shall meet at midnight.
This is what the Spirit had said. Floria, covered in a cape and with a suitcase that weighed heavily in her hand, repeated the words in her mind as she crossed the forest path under the starlight.
The trees bellowed in the howling wind, dark trunks that soon engulfed her in the darkness, her house far away from her feet and her mind.
She took a deep breath.
“Let’s do this.”
She quickened her steps, following the path, ignoring the omens that her scared mind threw at her, until she reached a glade. The moonlight made the grass silver, fluttering softly. An humanoid figure was standing in the middle, looking at the sky.
The Emissary of Flora had green skin, their hair made of leaves, a tail made of the same element that swayed back and forth, waiting.
They turned around, humanoid face smiling at the girl.
“You’ve arrived.”
“I hope… I hope I’m not late.”
The creature turned towards the moon, shaking their head: “Not at all. You’re quite early, my darling.”
The girl sighed in relief: “I was so afraid. And the forest was so dark…”
“Don’t worry, nothing will attack you here, as long as you’re with me.”
Floria smiled: “I know that. I’m grateful.”
“Have you uphold your part of the bargain?”
“Oh, yes! Sure!”
Floria rummaged in her pocket, taking a small bag. The Spirit jumped in delight, snatching it from her hands, and pouring the contents onto their hands. Small seeds scattered on their palm, some of them colorful, others as pale as bone.
“Are these legit?”
Floria jumped, startled: “Yes. Yes, of course.”
The Spirit squinted their eyes at the girl, and sniffed the seeds. They took one of them between their fingers, carefully bringing it close to their eye.
“Yes. They are. So nice!”
The Spirit smiled, their white teeth glittering like stars in the moonlit grove. “Perfect, then. My darling, are you sure about this?”
Floria raised her head: “Yes. Yes, I am.”
“Once you are there, I can’t bring you back, you know.”
“I know.”
“And it’s illegal.”
“I know that.”
“You could be punished heavily for breaking the law.”
“I am well aware of that.”
The Emissary of Flora stared at the girl, but she didn’t budge. They saw the glint of fear in her eyes, the trembling fingers and fast breath.
They approached her, their towering figure reflecting in her wide eyes. Their hands were heavy on her shoulders.
“Don’t worry, my darling. You can do it.”
The tension lifted from her shoulders, and the girl smiled: “Yes, I hope that I can.”
“Now, since this is settled…”
The Spirit turned around and raised their arm. In a swift motion, they drew a circle in air, a gush of air appearing out nowhere that forced Floria to close her eyes. The gust cut her breath for a second, hitting her chest. Slowly, she opened her eyes once it was over.
Behind the Spirit, a dark blue circle floated in mid-air, breaking the world. Floria stared, her own mind screaming at her to run away, something that urged her to turn back and go back home.
She clenched her fists.
“Thank you, Emissary.”
“Just be careful, my darling. I’ve seen you grow into a fine woman, I want to keep watching you grow up like the most beautiful flower that you are.”
Floria smiled: “Thank you. I’ll be careful.”
She made a few steps forward. She clenched the hand on the handle of her suitcase, the wood hard on her skin. In the end, she closed her eyes and jumped in the portal.
This is my entry for this week’s prompt! I wanted to develop the characters I created for FFF66 because I grew fond of them. A more angsty piece this time!
“Cassie”
597 words
Tw: mention of death/disease, a child hurt
Atticus was passing slowly up and down the back alley, checking his holographic watch every two steps: three minutes and twenty two seconds before midnight. It could be a cliché hour - that's what Atticus read in stories from before the domes - but out there the day was more dangerous than anything that once could have been lurking in the darkness. Fairy tales, nothing more. He had more important thing to worry about than monsters or ghosts or wolfs roaming into the forest. There was no forest anymore anyway. And he had no one to tell them to since...
The maintenance men retreated under a porch when a family of four walked past him. It was a lot harder to be discreet when everybody else was outside. One minute and thirty eight seconds before midnight. He pulled his hood further on his face, folded his arms, unfolded them to check his watch, folded them again, shifted to try and ajust his coast without unfolding his arm again, sweet Earth he couldn't wait any longer! Twelve seconds before midnight. Eleven. Ten. Nine. Eight.
"Ready or not, here I come!"
The memory shook Atticus awake just as a silhouette stopped near him, swallowed a nicotine pill, and leaned against a wall. The newcomer was waiting for Atticus to say something first, of course, he knew how it works. One deep breath before telling his soul.
"You know about the Cassiopeia Project obviously, who doesn't?"
Just a nod. But it was enough. Atticus continued with his voice down.
"I want names. We've heard about some of the programmers, the project manager but I want to know who is behind all this. The twisted mind that started it all. I'll pay for any information that you can find on this person."
"I don't do industrial espionnage."
The voice answered flately.A nervous chuckle escaped Atticus throat. The fiston he was restlessly jumping opened and closed since the arrived clenched.
"No, I can assure you it is personal. This monster took something… someone dear to my heart from me. They ruined my life and I'll make them pay. Can you find this information or not?"
One long minute of silence, Atticus so tensed he barely breathed, the other one very still, thinking intensely before dropping with the same emotionless voice.
"Two week from now, same place, same hour. Four thousand cash."
And just has it arrived, the spy disappeared in the shadows and Atticus was left alone with his thoughts, his emotion storming in his brain. Surprise. Confusion. Fear. Horror. Shame. It took him several minutes to realise his nails were digging in the palm of his hands. He shuddered, and fought back a yawn. Ten past midnight, but he couldn't bare the thought of going back home. Instead his hand wandered into his pocket, caressing a photo he didn't even need to look at anymore. The smile of the six years old girl was engraved in his memory: eyes sparkling with curiosity, one tooth missing but she didn't seem to care. Her unruly hair was tied into two askew braids - she insisted on braiding them herself and of course daddy accepted. She was so lively even frozen in this picture. More alive than the breathing ghost lying in the children bedroom where no one was playing anymore.
Atticus fell on his knees, violent sobs were shaking his body. He didn't care he was in the middle of the street, he didn't care people could see him, he was nothing but pain and sorrow. Through the wails only one word escaped his lips. One name.
Hi. It's the first time that I have been able to participate in the @flashfictionfridayofficial challenge. I hope you like it.
Word Count:991
Little Becky was curious to know more about who was spying on her and so she was getting ready to see the stranger.
"He had talked to meet you in the yard at midnight." - thought – “But how do I get out of this room? And if my owner realizes that I am gone, what will happen? I like him very much despite the things he does to me, but what if he finds me and makes me into pieces?”
The doll got tired of thinking so much and taking advantage that her human was not in the room decided to go in search of her spy. Advancing through the rooms of the house, being a little difficult to see because of the height, I could see the small hand of the clock pointing to the number eight and the big one pointing to the nine.
"It is still too early." - concluded with satisfaction –“I think I'll be able to get to the yard in time.”
Becky, even with a broken leg, passed through the rooms with all the dexterity she had. But she didn't expect anyone to notice her, much less want that. However, the boy Ryan who was in the living room playing a video game noticed a small shadow that seemed strange to him.
The boy paused the game and went to see what it was like while the little porcelain doll passed the corners of the house with difficulties. He went to the dark kitchen and when he heard her footsteps approaching Becky hid under the cupboards.
Ryan turned on the light and couldn't see anything strange, so he turned off the light again and closed the door. Realizing that the boy had already left, the doll saw the perfect opportunity to try to open the door that led to the yard.
Becky took one of the doorknobs from the cupboards under the kitchen and pushed herself to get to the middle of the cupboard. When she finally reached it she continued to climb, this time to the top of the closet. She did all this while Ryan heard the noise of her attempts in the living room. The boy couldn't take his curiosity and went to check the kitchen again.
The doll tensed when she heard the footsteps again especially now that she was about to reach the door, but she just concentrated on giving the handle the right push to get it open and leave the house for good. She jumped with everything reaching precisely for the handle and with the right movement opened the door. Then he went to the ground, but ended up splitting one of his legs and a little bit of his head in the process.
The boy arrived at the kitchen suspicious because of the various noises and found the backyard door open. Remembering that he had seen the door closed the last time; he approached the door and heard another noise among the bushes and after that he saw a small figure moving among them.
Curiosity continued to speak louder, Ryan went into the yard, and Becky, desperate, continued to run with much effort. The boy chased her for almost an hour guided by the movements of the bushes until his parents called him to sleep. Becky only succeeded in losing him once more when she hid in a den under a tree and in absolute silence.
No longer feeling the boy's presence around, the doll came out of hiding and can finally go after her spy. She was afraid he might have missed the hour, but she still waited for some time in the bushes beside a wooden fence.
"So you did come." Said a distant voice.
Becky looked around for the owner or owner of the voice and heard wing flaps close to where she was and a crow appeared beside it. The doll was startled and screamed in fear.
"Don't be afraid, little one." Said the crow.
She froze.
“The cat ate your tongue?” - Asked the raven before laughing.
"Why were you spying on me?" - questioned the doll still afraid.
"Ah, so let's get straight to the point. I didn't spy on you on purpose. I just found it curious that a doll was moving.”
"That is none of your business."
"Why were you trying to escape?" Asked the animal.
“You already have your answer: it's none of your business.”
"That boy doesn't treat you well, does he?"
Becky fell silent. She didn't want to give any information to this unwanted company, but the crow surprised her by sweeping right in front of her by removing her cotton dress. The doll felt embarrassed to see that the marks on her body and her thimble prosthesis were in sight.
"Don't you see that being in that house you will be broken at any moment?"
"Ryan likes me a lot. I cannot leave him and I am very happy with him.”
"If your owner really liked you, he certainly wouldn't have those marks and that thing in the middle of your leg."
“It was an accident.”
"Various accidents, you mean. And if you're really as happy as you say you are, I ask you again why you were running away that night.”
"That was a mistake. I realized moments later that I shouldn't be doing that.”
"You acknowledge that he treats you badly, but you don't want to admit it. You will have at least two destinations if you stay there: to be forgotten or to be broken.”
Those words brought discomfort to Becky, who knew the creature was telling the truth.
"If you want, I have a perfect plan to get you out of there."
She knew there were no more advantages to being in that house, but she liked her owner very much and didn't want to be without him. Even so, she decided to venture into the unknown.
Note: Another flash fiction for @flashfictionfridayofficial ! This is actually a (possible) scene out of the larger story/book I’m trying to write with these characters. Let’s see what late night talk we have going on, yes?
Victoria comes sneaking into the kitchen, moving as quiet as she can when she brave the steep stairs that take her downstairs. Having gone up the stairs to change her clothes, she knows her sister and mother are sleeping soundly in their beds, each of them needing the rest.
Victoria could not sleep, and while she wish she had someone to discuss her nighttime troubles with, she was not about to visit it all on the other, safely slumbering, occupants of the house. Meeting your biological family was not an every day event, and she doubted they'd understand her anyway.
"Vicky, why are you up?"
Speaking of the Devil, and it shall appear. Looking up from her feet, she saw her mother already standing in the kitchen. The sharp overhead lights accented the deep, dark marks under her eyes, and it was clear the woman had not left bed because she felt rested.
"Too much excitement yesterday" Vicky said softly, wrapping her arm around her mother's back, wanting to help her to a chair. "Though I could ask you the same. Why do we meet at midnight?" She ask, peering over at the clock. 12:01, just a minute over the midnight hour.
"My back" Annabelle replied simply, smiling wryly as she pushed away a few grey curls from her face. "You know how it goes" She laughed as she sat down, sighing. “Keeps you up.”
Victoria sighed. "Oh mum" She chewed her lip, worrying for her. "When were you last to see a Doctor about it? Maybe…" She begin to try and give her mother advice, but is not allowed to finish.
"Vicky. Stop" She said sternly. "Don't do this. To me and to you. I will be fine, and that is it. Understood?"
Vicky complied. Wordlessly, she sank down on the second kitchen chair. "Yes" She confirmed simply. “I understand.”
Anna nodded sharply, satisfied. "Good. Well, we can make the best of our midnight get together. How did it go with Sally?"
Victoria smiled softly. “Well, she is young...and innocent. You know? It’s so hard to imagine she is the master brain in all this, because she doesn’t even seem to understand what it is that she is really doing, and how this impacts us.” She pause. “I’ve never had a biological family. I never knew there was someone out there who cared. And then... she shows and tells me she’s spent a year just looking. A year! Just looking for me”
Anna lean forward, elbows on the table as she listen to her child. "I never thought you'd find them. The background you had when you came to me...it's not the sort of children that get reintroduced to their parents" She pondered. "I liked it that way, truthfully. The thought of not getting to keep you girls in the end...it's too painful. Too hurtful." There is almost tears in her eyes when she voice those words, fear still squeezing her heart forty years later.
Vicky watched her mother all but break down into tears, and felt her heart aching for her. "Oh mum…" She moves closer, rounding the table and wrapping her arm around her mother's bent back. "You're not jealous, are you?" She tease her.
Anna looks up at her daughter and shrug her shoulders. "Perhaps a little" She admit, smiling. "I just love you. You're my daughter just as much as if I'd birthed you."
"And you will always be my mother" Vicky assured her, holding her mother tight. "Forever. I may have set name to my past...but you. You, will always be my mother." She said strongly. “There is no one else”
“What are you people doing down here? Have you people never heard of sleep?!”
Raechel stands in the doorway, trying to get adjusted to the light of the kitchen. She sees the silhouettes of her sister and mother by the kitchen table, and the glowing letters of the wall clock reads 12:30 AM. It’s a typical thing, if not a healthy thing. “You always do this!”
Annabelle sat up straighter, going form slouching over the kitchen table to try and relieve her back to sitting straight. “We were just talking. the late night bug bit us” She said softly. “No need to worry. I’m sorry if we woke you up”
Vicky looked embarrassed, shrugging. “Sorry big sis.” She apologized.
Reachel laughed and shock her head. “I don’t know what I’ll do with you two”
