(  robert pattinson. 37. he/they. demi male.  ) are   you   a  VIGILANTE?   something   tells   me   that   a   constant   cloud   of   smoke   hiding   your   face,  fingertips   burned   with   ash   and   marked   with   gold   rings, uncertain   to   work   out   whether   you’re    in   hell   or   not  ⸻  that’s   the   problem   with   a   condemned   soul   like   yours   make   you   who   you   are,   JOHN   CONSTANTINE.   with   the   powers   of   DARK   ARTS  /  THE   OCCULT,   you’re   sure   to   have   a   witty,   calloused   personality   —   and   you   definitely   belong   to   UNAFFILIATED.

      ⸻　⅋       baby,       don’t       you       know       [       …       ]       𝐈       𝐒𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑.

in a list of people tim wants not to run into in this new world  ,  the trenchcoats would be the top three  (  doctor occult got a pass  ,  because he was cool  &  didn’t scar tim for life  )  .  and yet  ,  here he is  ,  encountering fucking john constantine  (  he still can’t believe he thought the guy was cool when they first met  )  in a park in new york city  .  “  no  ,  ”  he says petulantly  .  “  you don’t get to shoo me away just because you’re  ‘  busy  ’  ,  not after throwing me in the deep end and abandoning me to it  .  the least i deserve is a  ‘  hey  ,  how have you been since i showed you like two things about magic and then gave you zero support after that  ’  .  ”  maybe unreasonable  ,  when he doesn’t know for sure that this is the same man that did all that  —  he’s seen alternate realities where they never meet  ,  this version of constantine could be from one of them  —  but he’s bottled up these feelings for a while  &  it’s about time he let them out  .

         𝐇𝐎𝐖  𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃  𝐖𝐀𝐒  𝐈𝐓  to  find  some  peace  and  quiet  in  this  dimension  ?  john  did  his  best  to  keep  to  himself,  claim  some  bench  in  the  shade  and  work.  but  with  a  defined  no,  brown  hues  glanced  up  and  was  greeted  with  tim’s  familiar  features.  it  was  a  tricky  question  to  ask  if  john  felt  guilty  with  what  happened  between  the  two  (  for  a  man  like  him,  guilt  was  just  as  familiar  as  melancholy,  or  wrath,  there  was  very  little  that  distinguished  them  ⸻  it  was  easier  to  numb  it  all  together.  )  tired  bones  straightened  as  john  studied  tim,  he’s  grown  since  john  had  last  seen  him,  and  seemed  angrier  than  last  (  remind  you  of anyone  ?  )

eddie worked better at night, this was a proven fact, there were less people to worry about and more things that he could get done. it didn’t work well when he was a journalist and having to get things finished at a timely manner. he had been out of the game for so long it had felt like he didn’t know how to write words anymore. he’s just gotten out of one of the many court cases he would be attending today that was open to the public, the rest court case was someone that he and venom had stopped and while he had wanted to play it through he knew that the conviction would be an even sweeter gig. he’s grabbing his cigarettes out of his pocket, when he asks about a lighter he’s quickly shut down, an amused smile plays on his lips before reiterating, “look i have no answers, i’m just a man, standing in front of a complete and total stranger asking for his lighter.”

           𝐈𝐓  𝐃𝐈𝐃𝐍’𝐓  𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄  𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂  𝐓𝐎  𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄  that  the  guy  was  a  little  strange.  something  in  his  aura  was  off,  unquestionably,  but  john  watched  with  faithful  hues  as  the  stranger  asked  for  a  lighter.  so  oddly  charmed  by  the  situation,  john  blinked  himself  back  to  life.  a  low  exhale  released  the  cigarette  smoke  that  was  caught  in  his  breath,  what  a  strange  man.  “  swept  off  my  feet  with  that  performance,  really.  ”  john  mused  with  a  ghost  of  a  smirk.  realisation  finally  kicked  in  as  john  shoved  one  hand  in  his  pocket,  the  other  with  his  cigarette  squished  between  two  fingers  pointing  at  the  male,  “  you’re  that  journalist  guy  in  this  dimension’s  paper,  uhh  ⸻  parker,  right  ?  ”  he  asked  quizzically.  “  look,  i  don’t  have  a  lighter  on  me  mate,  but-  ”  a  snap  of  his  fingers  and  a  small  spark  ignites,  “  next  best  thing.  ”

          SHE’S  UNFAZED  BY  HIS  dismissive  attitude  for  it’s  who  he  is  and  zatanna  constantly  questions  how  she’s  put  up  with  it  for  so  long  .  the  magician  rolls  her  eyes  ,  taking  a  seat  across  from  him  regardless  .  “  someone’s  not  a  morning  person  ,  ”  she  playfully  tuts  ,  taking  a  sip  of  her  coffee  .  “  your  people  skills  could  use  a  little  bit  of  work  .  ”  hand  reaches  over  to  pluck  the  stray  piece  of  paper  on  his  side  of  the  table  .  “  interesting  …  ”  looks  up  .  “  i  could’ve  sworn  i  left  this  at  the  sanctum  last  night  .  ”

          “  𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓  𝐆𝐀𝐕𝐄  𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓  𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘  ?  ”  john  grumbled  in  response,  yet  there  was  a  growing  coy  smile  at  the  sight  of  zatanna.  very  few  could  tolerate  john,  and  there  were  few  that  john  tolerated  back.  shoulders  rolled  into  a  more  relaxed  state  (  was  he  ever  relaxed  ?  a  symptom  of  being  a  dead  man  walking.  )  the  blonde  gave  a  light  scoff.  “  no  thanks,  i’d  rather  play  poker  with  the  damned.  ”  another  sip  of  his  own  tea.  “  a  buddy  of  mine  gave  it  to  me,  ”  not  necessarily  true,  but  he  had  been  at  the  sanctum.  “  thought  it  might  lead  us  somewhere.  ”

          @stdivine​​    –––    THE  SANCTUM    //    “  IF  YOU  WANT  TO  borrow  the  book  ,  you  could  just  ask  ,  ”  stephen  comments  without  looking  up  from  his  book  .  as  appreciative  as  he  is  with  the  other’s  help  ,  he’ll  let  it  remain  unspoken  .  “  so  is  your  coat  sentient  or  ?  it  just  never  seems  to  leave  your  sight  .  ”

          “  𝐈  𝐖𝐀𝐒  𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐓𝐎 . . .  𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑.  ”  john  lied  through  his  teeth,  but  there  was  a  quiet  sigh  of  relief   ⸻  no  need  to  for  a  grand  attempt  to  steal  it  before  he  left.  eyebrows  knitted  quizzically,  “  sentient  ??  sure,  it’s  good  english  taliorin’  and  somewhat  demonic.  ”  eyes  fall  upon  stephen’s  own  cape,  “  yours’  just  apart  of  the  magician’s  uniform,  or  ??  ”

     “  this  looks  bad  .  .  .  “  teddy  steps  back  ,  hands  rising  up  in  the  air  and  a  look  of  shock  on  his  features  .  “  really  bad  .  but  .  .  .  “  another  pause  .  “  it’s  not  what  you  think  ,  i  swear  .  “  teddy  really  wasn’t  stealing  although  it  sure  did  look  like  it  .  and  the  look  of  guilt  on  his  features  didn’t  help  the  situation  at  all  .  “  i  was  actually  returning  it  .  “

           𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍  𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐍'𝐓  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐓  𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄.  rules  were  in  place  to  be  broken,  and  they  made  it  their  unofficial  duty  to  prove  it.  standing  adjacent  to  the  other,  john  concealed  a  stolen  grimoire  underneath  their  trench  coat.  ❛  does  it  look  like  i  give  a  shit,  kid  ?  ❜  they  spoke,  uninterested,  ❛  you’re  doin’  a  real  bad  job  at  it  ⸻  it’s  all  ‘bout  deny,  deny,  deny.  ❜

           𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍  𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐍’𝐓  𝐀  𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍,  rarely  showing  his  complexion  during  the  day  only  to  face  the  demons  at  night. it  almost  felt  hypocritical  for  him  to  be  sitting  here  ⸻  a  concoction  of  tea  and  whiskey  in  one  hand,  a  burning  cigarette  in  between  his  fingers,  and  his  newest  (  stolen  )  research  in  the  other.  everything  balanced  with  holy  dedication.  john  had  become  quickly  tired  of  this  new  world,  and  if  he  had  to  hear  about  that  goddamn  rogers  the  musical  one  more  time⸻  ❛  look,  love.  if  you’ve  got  an  answer  to  everyone’s  problems  or  something  strong  to  drink,  ❜  john  spoke  without  glancing  up,  ❛  kindly  bugger  off.  i’m  busy.  ❜

          disguising   her   godly   abilities   became   a   burden   throughout   time.   though   diana   could   understand   the   importance   of   doing   so   ,   it   didn’t   make   it   any   less   tiresome   .   .   .   especially   in   times   of   distress.   though   the   incident   wasn’t   comparable   to   the   monumental   feats   wonder   woman   faced   it   was   still   impressive   that   a   seemingly   mortal   woman   was   able   to   prevent   a   car   from   pummeling   into   a   bystander.   diana   lowered   her   forearm   to   reveal   the   dent   formed   on   the   grill   of   the   car   ,   but   her   concern   for   the   victim   took   priority.     ❛❛   please   tell   me   you’re   alright.   do   you   need   me   to   carry   you   ?   ❜❜

          his  head  is  all  over  the  place.  deep  in  thought  with  theories  about  the  new  dimension  he  found  himself  stuck  in.  brown  eyes  were  almost  glass - like,  his  feet  taking  full  control  and  leading  the  rest  of  john’s  body  to  nowhere  in  particular  (  his  subconscious,  desperate,  for  a  strong  drink  ).  one  wrong  step  of  his  boot,  john  found  himself  caught  on  the  other  side  of  the  ever  familiar  diana  prince,  a  saint  in  all  of  her  glory  ⸻  constantine  was  one  lucky  bastard. 

   “sorry, i – do you mind??” grinning a bit sheepishly, steve held up the pencil clutched between fingers, sketchbook opened to a fresh page. “i’ve been drawing mostly trees and other scenery today, so i figured it might be worth a shot to ask for an actual subject.” 

          in  the  midst  of  a  finishing  a  cigarette,  john  glanced  up  with  a  raised  eyebrow.  ❛  yeah,  alright  ⸻  not  the  first  time  someone’s  asked  if  i  could  be  one  of  their  french  girls  for  a  drawing.  ❜  they  spoke,  cigarette  butt  stomped  underneath  their  boot  and  instantly  replaced  with  another,  ❛  d’you  want  me  to  just  sit  still  and  look  pretty  or  what  ??  ❜