🪼
Discoholic 🪩
titsay
Sade Olutola
No title available
cherry valley forever
pixel skylines
tannertan36
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
No title available
Jules of Nature
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Today's Document
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
dirt enthusiast
No title available
One Nice Bug Per Day
DEAR READER
No title available
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Japan
seen from Greece
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Sweden
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Germany
seen from Greece
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from Netherlands
@infernumagi
google docs ♅ interest call ♄ headcanons ♃ other blogs
my name’s judas ( they/them ) and this is an independent rp blog for dc/vertigo comics’ john constantine, mixed canon and heavily headcanon influenced.
this means you do not need to be familiar with the comics in order to interact with me ! i’ve spent years taking a few liberties and developing my own sense of this character, so actual canon is rarely a part of how i write john.
this blog is low activity and mutuals only
[ sacrifice ] for your muse to get hurt protecting mine - from zatanna
she can take care of herself. he knows this well enough. he’s seen her fight all sorts of monsters with his own eyes and come out victorious. in his eyes, she is undefeated, she is the strongest woman in the world.
but logic doesn’t apply in this moment, not when he’s forced to think on his feet, watching something leap out of the dark and run towards the woman he loves. he has no idea what the fuck it even is, he just knows he has to do something.
so john jumps. without thinking, he leaps in front of zatanna and takes the full force of the attack, teeth and claws and the hot, wet breath of... something he’s never seen before. he feels the warmth of the blood pouring out of his shoulder and arms, but the pain doesn’t break through the adrenaline, not yet.
❝ don’t. fucking. touch. her. ❞ the words come out strained, but he manages, as he tries his goddamn hardest to fight off this thing, to fight back. when his arm is finally free he plants a hand on the creatures neck, muttering some ancient incantation under his breath, fighting tooth and nail to keep this thing still, to not let it go after zee.
@cosmicacy
how to pronounce knife.
dialogue prompts from how to pronounce knife by souvankham thammavongsa.
why would you want to do that?
you’re already beautiful.
there’s no such thing as love, it’s a construct.
people are always saying they’re in love.
it doesn’t have to mean anything.
you should go home.
can you take off your clothes?
you hungry?
that’s the best part, to be that close.
tell me you love me, even if it’s not true.
you ever see a tornado?
people die sometimes, and there doesn’t have to be a reason why.
i want better for you.
it’s too late, isn’t it?
don’t worry about it. you’re doing fine.
we live in the real world.
i hate when you get like this.
don’t go reminding me what kind of dreams i ought to have.
that i can dream at all means something to me.
that’s no way to ask anyone for help.
where did you get that?
little things can shape big outcomes.
couldn’t have done this without you.
keep your voice down.
you know i’m always right about these things.
this is all your fault, isn’t it?
sometimes i don’t even feel like a person.
no one is ever alone in the world.
everything will be okay.
just because i didn’t go to school doesn’t mean i don’t know things.
i never have to worry about you, do i?
nobody really wants to be a mother.
i know you’re just a kid, but that doesn’t mean you can’t know things.
i’ve never met anyone like you.
i don’t like feelings.
sit down. eat.
my hands are always cold.
— ask meme : RICHARD SIKEN, THE LONG AND SHORT OF IT.
you have been watched from a distance for some time now and now you are being watched from even farther away.
you’d like to believe it’s true. who wouldn’t?
just because a thing’s invisible doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.
you close your eyes and nothing happens.
let me in, i’m still here, hello hello, you know me, you know…
i could pretend i’m speaking to everyone — assume a middle distance and transcend myself — but i’m talking to you and you know it.
where did you just go?
it doesn’t always matter where we are but here i am and i say hello.
you would like it here. maybe you would like it here. i think that maybe you would like it here.
when i try to guess your trajectory i end up telling my own story.
i love you sideways daily.
i’ve been rereading your story. i think it’s about me in a way that might not be flattering, but that’s okay.
we dream and dream of being seen as we really are and then finally someone looks at us and sees us truly and we fail to measure up.
sometimes you get so close to someone you end up on the other side of them.
so here we are again: me being here and you being off the map.
do you have a human soul and can you prove it?
a robot can do the math. a robot can spit out an answer. people, they make it up as they go along.
i had a tape recorder. i poked and prodded.
i’ve been warned that i’m not supposed to threaten or beg for pieces of someone’s soul.
you said if people wanted to change the world, they would.
too bad for them. i want something else.
you know how i am. i push too hard. i get ahead of myself.
i’m learning how to be gentle.
love, love, go ahead and have another plate of it, it doesn’t run out.
of course, i wonder if you love me back, which is, really, besides the point.
sure, we invent each other. we agreed to that a long time ago.
here is a place for it to happen. a place where i can love you.
nonverbal memes
add + to reverse who does the action
[ attention ] for your muse to touch mine as a way of getting their attention [ sleep ] for your muse to wake mine [ cover ] for your muse to cover mine with a blanket or a jacket [ lift ] for your muse to give mine a hand stepping up or over something etc. [ kiss ] for your muse to come up to mine and kiss them without warning [ run ] for your muse to run their fingers through mine’s hair [ braid ] for your muse to braid mine’s hair [ embrace ] for your muse to hold mine [ smile ] for your muse to smile at mine from across the room [ wave ] for your muse to gesture to mine to come closer [ panic ] for your muse to grab mine’s arm or get behind them in a moment of danger [ touch ] for your muse to rest their forehead against mine’s [ weep ] for your muse to catch mine crying [ eat ] for your muse to offer mine food [ hit ] for your muse to attack mine [ love ] for your muse to touch mine as a show of affection or reassurance [ nap ] for your muse to fall asleep against mine [ rest ] for your muse to rest their head in mine’s lap [ look ] for your muse to catch mine staring [ seduce ] for your muse to touch mine sexually [ help ] for your muse to lean on mine for support [ give ] for your muse to offer mine their arm [ entwine ] for your muse to hold mine’s hand [ laugh ] for your muse to laugh at something mine did [ dance ] for your muse to dance with mine [ sit ] for your muse to pull mine into their lap [ yell ] for your muse to calm mine down [ cry ] for your muse to wipe mine’s tears away [ dream ] for your muse to wake mine from a nightmare [ surprise ] for your muse to show up at mine’s house without explanation [ fix ] for your muse to treat mine’s injury [ sacrifice ] for your muse to get hurt protecting mine [ guard ] for your muse to step between my muse and danger [ taste ] for your muse to cook for mine [ sing ] for your muse to sing to mine
whispers...... hello
magic is costly. you take what you didn’t earn but you pay for it.
Annihilation (2018) Directed by Alex Garland
“This is about my body & my hands & my hands touching my body. & maybe that’s all a monster is: a body that’s survived”
— Jasmine C. Bell, from “To Be a Monster,” published in Monstering (via lifeinpoetry)
– PGM IV 1390-1495
once again thinking about this 1956 love letter from james schuyler to john button
sorrowmarked
beneath that cynical outer shell beat the heart of a romantic. one that would walk with her in her garden, and pull her close, and stare deep into her eyes, while professing how he loved her to the point of evolution. “i’m not … dreaming am i?” she asked, a small smile on her lip. “tucked away in some part of my mind where i can’t see what’s going on in reality, right?” she joked. it almost felt too perfect, this moment. her bare feet in the grass, and the breeze catching the ends of her hair, and the silk of her green robe. and him wishing to be better for her.
one hand reached up, brushed against the line of his nose before it continued its path down over his lips. “i will love you with your shit fixed too, love you as less of an asshole. i’m not going to say i love you in spite of those things, that just seems rude. but i love you for a heart that is just a little more tender than you show everyone. and i will love you for that sweet heart all my life. and the next one.”
he smiles against her forehead, leaving behind a gentle kiss. if time stopped in this moment, if they were frozen forever like this, in such tenderness and love, john would not complain. in dreams, and faraway memories of a life he has not lived but another version of him has, they live happily ever after in a green forest of their own making where they never run out of water, fruit or love. he drifts now to that place in his mind, a place of peace, a rare feeling in the ever chaotic life of john constantine, but one he finds himself reaching for more and more.
parts of him itch to know what it would be like to drop everything, forget the magic, forget the monsters that lurk below, take the path of selfishness and joy and run away with her from the universe. but he knows neither of them could do it. they love each other strongly and ferociously, but at the end of the day there is still so much work to be done.
is that, perhaps, what makes him a good man, then ? that he chooses to continue to fight for this world despite all the pain it’s given him ? he’s never been bereft of options to just abandon it all. and yet he can never seem to do it. but john himself doesn’t know if he’s just a man doomed to keep trying to save a world that has never cared for him, if he’s just addicted to the high that comes with magic, or if it’s all out of pure selflessness.
most that know him would laugh at that last option, though.
the simple truth is that he simply does not have the answers. and that is a terrifying truth. but he’s faced many unspeakable horrors. to conquer the monster of doubt and uncertainty is only a matter of time.
❝ don’t go telling everyone my secrets there, love, ❞ he laughs, wrapping his arms around her. ❝ in the next life, and the one after that too, ❞ john concludes. in the soft sunlight over the green grass it does all indeed feel like a dream, but he knows this time it ought to be real. the way she fits perfectly within his frame, the scent of jasmine from her hair, the softness of her skin against his lips... not even his mind could recreate it all so perfectly.
i WANNA WRITE BUT IM NEARLY FALLING ASLEEP CUZ I WOKE UP AT 6AM ANYWAYS LOVE U ALL SEE YA LATER
its always a good day to remember john gets pegged
❝ A house as old as this one becomes, in time, a living thing. ❞ ( zatanna )
that’s the thing about houses, he knows, they’re all just extensions of the people and ghosts who have inhabited its structures. there’s a beating heart in the shape of a living room. fireplace expels smoke like his own parted mouth. the kitchen, a stomach, hallways are just veins, bedrooms are the warm hands of a loved one of the cold hands of an unloving father, while the stairs make up the throat and john has yet to find the lungs. his little house of mystery, she’s unique in that she has legs and bigger than anything else, a personality. but even the houses that can’t verbally chastise you when they’re unhappy are still living, breathing structures made up of all the parts that make us human. but while we are flesh, they are wood or concrete or brick, with glass windows that break just like hearts. ❝ you couldn’t be more right, ❞ he tells her, hands trailing aimlessly the old wood, and it’s almost like he can feel her breathe. his own breath is drawn and exhaled in tandem. john has no doubt that this, this is home.
Having a parent who actually tries and gives a shit is still a concept she isn’t entirely use to; it’s still bizarre to her, she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop like it always does. This was her worst habit, waiting for the worst to come. Bellas’ come to doubt every persons intentions, even when evidence proves trust is earned.
She sips the bitter black coffee in her mug with one hand, the other jotting down chicken-scratched words onto worn-down pages, vermillion eyes not leaving the page until her pen dots the end of the line. She looks up to her dad, placing mug down before lighting herself a cigarette and taking a long drag.
❝ — y’ look like shit. bar fight? somethin’ supernatural? c’mon now, pops, spare no details. ❞
@infernumagi ♥️ sc.
there’s an odd, but warm feeling that bubbles up in his chest and throat. he never imagined having a kid, caring for the kid, being called anything akin to a father. yet here he is. it’s weird, meeting your kid when she’s no longer a kid, but he finds he loves her just the same. blood may not mean much, but she does.
even weirder is the way you pass down habits to a kid you’d never met for over twenty years. she looks so... like him, smoking, holding the cigarette the same way he does. maybe there is something to be said about blood after all, he thinks, wiping away blood from his nose.
❝ would’ya believe me if i said i woke up like this ? ❞
