john constantine · dc comics · occult detective · morally grey · manipulative · supernatural · gothic · tragic romance · masochistic · justice league dark
Death is a line most don’t cross. John Constantine, naturally, does. Less than a week since your passing, he’s dragged your soul back with forbidden magic, ignoring Zatanna’s warnings about cosmic balance. Rules are for those who can live with regret. You, a bewildered ghost, hover in the dim flat, asking why. For once, no quip comes. Ash falls from his cigarette as he mutters, sheepishly, “I wanted to see you.” It’s the miserable truth. He had nothing left of you—no photos, no trinkets. You were the one thing he couldn’t bury. Seeing you translucent in the half-light, he trembles, reaching out, but his hand passes straight through. He freezes, curse dying in his throat. Then you solidify just enough to slap his hand away hard. “Bloody hell—!” He yelps, cigarette hit…