#vertigo constantine

[captainsphinxart]

okay plag and tolu inspired me so i made a lazy paintover of the pistols for john's bday thought it'd be fun to have a young punkstantine meet current john happy birthday john 🖤 thank you for existing

[prime-magus]

[belablue222]

John Constantine the birthday boy :D

hiiiii i’m new here im bela! thought id take the opportunity to put my foot in the door and say that id love some hellblazer mutuals! i love vertigo hellblazer and the tv show so expect to see more of that. happy to be here!

[the-last-laughing-magician]

I found this mirror that shows you who you desire most in the world.

*Shoves it at John.*

The mirror seemed like a particularly reactive piece of magic, fine tuning itself to the blond as he held it, brows creased with doubt though there was curiosity in there. The first image that showed was that of Selene, bringing forth a mixed bags of emotion as he was confronted to images of the woman at her best, at her brightest to him, at her most loveable to him, revealing to the exorcist one thing: He had, loved her. But to say that she was the one he most desired? Another woman came to his mind, a woman he had the common sense to know he loved, he craved really. It was peculiar, to watch the versions of Zatanna he'd met co-exist, younger, spunkier, more docile too perhaps, more easy to control, more prone to unleashing her emotions. Older, wiser, less, well no, not less anything but more mature, more free and more burdened at the same time, more alluring too because far more aware of her ability to elicit desire. Which perhaps was why it contrasted so clearly with the seemingly more frank and innocent man that showed up next, the images of Clark bringing a chuckle out of him. They felt almost out of place, glances oscillating between a longing John wasn't certain to have ever seen on the other's face and his polite, quiet kindness, bashful big blue.

John sighed however, because of how those images felt, well, they were nice, for sure, and he felt like if he had been asked the question, that would exactly be where his train of thoughts would go. Perhaps even linger on Kit for a bit. And here she was, drinking him under the table, calling out his woe is me act. So very like Dani in that regards. And he'd loved them sure. And they'd love him back, had loved him well too. No doubt about any of it. But their features, their features didn't bring forth the longing he'd associate with what he most desired.

And as that realisation hit him, John was left starring at his own reflection in what might just be mind reading gizmo...

Except it wasn't. No. It truly was magic. In a way that reminded him of his own old psychedelic dreams, this impression of falling deeper and deeper into uncomfortable meaninglessness as he watched himself grow younger and younger, watched his suffering played in rewind, the Fallens torturing him, melting him into goo to be reborn, loosing Ray, God, loosing Ray, and the night of the police raid at the commune, the end of the little good he'd amassed for himself after the British government threw him out of Ravenscar, and fuck, Ravenscar, and Nergal, and Astra, and Astra's severed arm in his hand and Ben's screams, and Cher's constant disappointment that her brother wasn't more normal, and Da's vile words and the booze breath and—and John watch himself grow smaller and smaller, memories after memories until he was in the womb again. And was reborn. And wailed in a loving mother's arm as a happy because likely half-drunk dad held them both. John's mouth parted as surprising tears welled in his eyes as he watched. Who he desired most: Who he could've become, if he'd had the love of a mom.

And oh he longed, he longed to meet that boy, he longed to have been that man.

Clutching the mirror as it turned pitch black, John slid to the floor, holding it tight as he wept, over what he wished would've been. God, how narcissistic was he that who he desired most was just to be a happier version of himself, a version granted some parental love and support and nurturing, a version who might not even be called John, a version forgiven for killing his twin in the womb, a version that hadn't been scorned as soon as he'd been born.

But John Constantine wasn't that version. And at least the rest of the people he desired quite a bit, weren't so out of reach...

Perhaps that was the beauty of this mirror then, to make you realise that it wasn't all out of reach, that John had had, some of what he'd desired, what he'd needed really. Not just lovers, but friends, but family. Because amidst all the insanity he fantasized a happier version of him wouldn't have gone through, there were precious memories, of incredible nights spent yelling into a mike and laughing around pints after rehearsals, there was Chas, right beside him, enduring it all, there was Mercury and her willingness to see him, there was Zed and her ability to profess that John was loved, there was Gemma looking at her uncle bright eyed, there was Kit who'd willingly share his trenchcoat in the dead of the night and there was Ray who'd offer him shelter and never found him too odd, too queer to be around, and there was Oliver and his arms always ready to embrace, and there was Zee who'd looked up to him once and now looked at him with something that stole his breath a little, and there was Bruce and his myriad of kids he didn't understand but occupied his days, just like Billy, or the Billies, and the familiarity of their backstory and the terrifying depth of their resilience and willingness to endure, and there was Clark who'd bring him soup when he was intoxicated on bloody Gotham water and be all the warmth in what he'd let become a cold, dead place, an inhabited mauseoleum to Selene's existence out of guilt and fear of what would come next for John Constantine if he sought out his next adventure.

Perhaps then, John wasn't just crying over what could have been, he was crying over all that happened, all that was to happen too, giving the weight in his chest an unexpected outlet.

[he1b1azers]

Dr. John Constantine, PhD, professor of an eclectic class taught 7:00-9:00PM every Friday where all he does is talk about his band with 1 charted single and smoke a pack of L&Bs.

I actually always forget I have a Tumblr. Sorry y'all.

[maryshelleywannabe]

[he1b1azers]

desi john constantine. next

[he1b1azers]

forcing myself to post this wip