#about a guy named john

[itsacruelsummerwithyou2]

rip lucy gray, you would’ve loved dear john (taylor’s version)

[potato-lord-but-not]

i adore your malevolent art so much, especially your arthur/oscar and your noel design!!!! so wonderful!!!! could i request you do some noel/arthur? 👉👈 or noel/arthur/john? they are my current hyperfixation and i am unable to not think of them 😌

no worries if not! <3

sorryy this is a little late butttt ummm they 🫶 also sorry it’s giving more John/Noel vibes I can’t help myself 🫶🫶

[impossibleheartflower]

[koszmarnybudyn]

So this song fits them so very well right?

[javelinbk]

I have definitely not spent an amount of time staring at these clips in an attempt to detect any sexual tension between John and Lord Snowdon

The Beatles and Brian Epstein talking to Princess Margaret and the Earl of Snowdon at the World Premiere for Help! London Pavilion, 29th July 1965

[shrinevandal]

lost meme dump because i cannot be assed to make individual posts

[10000mormonsintheutahdesert]

Holmes + their watsons + being dog coded

Arthur Conan Doyle, "A Study in Scarlet"//Planate Animal//Wikipedia, "Black dog (folklore)"//Arthur Conan Doyle, "The Hound of the Baskervilles"//Mitski, "Cop Car"//Arthur Conan Doyle, "The Adventure of the Devil's Foot"//Athur Conan Doyle, "The Adventure of Three Garridebs"//Sherlock & Co, "The Dancing Men"//Limbourg brothers, "Les tres riches heures du Duc de Berry"//Psych, "Lock, Stock, Some Smoking Barrels and Burton Guster's Goblet of Fire"//Elementary, "Details"//Sherlock & Co "Shoscombe Old Place"//Sherlock & Co, "The Solitary Cyclist"//House, "House Training"//Sherlock & Co, "The Solitary Cyclist"//Maurice Leblanc, "Arsene Lupin vs Herlock Sholmes"

[gerrykeaysbathmat]

Caught up with Malevolent. Except for the new season 5 ep. I'm too scared. My brain is,,, so fuzzy. Nothing but Jarthur in there... the way I wanna

[gideonisms]

every time you see a post with some guys name and it's like Steve or Matt you can be sure it's about a superhero franchise that has nothing to say besides "it's good when people work together" and "sometimes you shouldn't kill someone" but every time you see a post about a guy named John you know he's from a story that interrogates the nature of the narratives we tell about each other and has turned multiple people into lesbians

[bongo-clash]

Peacock Au Part 1

Okay so Big Huge credit to @stealingyourbones for letting me do my own take on their amazing eldritch Danny idea!!!! This started out as me just doing a drawing but then I ended up with a whole DPxDC fic that I'll be posting the part two for at some point!!! Anyway, here's the vague designs:

And here's the part one of the fic under the cut!!! :D (Edit: Part 2 is Here!!)

There’s a Lazarus Pit forming underneath Gotham. Normally, this would not concern John Constantine at all, because it’s Gotham, therefore Bat territory therefore not his problem, and honestly he has his own things to worry about. Unfortunately for him, however, the infamous Dark Knight has somehow gotten it into his head that he can do something about it and, Hell, he’d said it would be a ‘big favour’, which meant the man really must be desperate; had to have been in the first place, he supposed, to have even bothered with John in the first place. 

Still, he’d almost kind of forgotten what a huge mess any kind of favour for Batman could be, and thus, he now holds possession of a book that is probably going to get him killed. 

Whether the actual book itself wants to kill him is up for debate, but Constantine has read the contents of this particular Book of Summonings and nothing in here seems remotely safe. He’s absolutely going to be hiding this away somewhere deep in the archives of the archives of the Justice League watchtower with an incredibly pointed ‘DO NOT TOUCH’ on it once he’s done with this, but for now, it’s the only thing he’s got in the way of sorting out this Pit problem. 

There’s an entity that exists, this book claims, that keeps the balance between realms. ‘Closes doors’, apparently, and the doors the pages depict certainly look like a Lazarus Pit. This is brilliant news, obviously, but the book doesn’t describe the entity itself at all beyond that; barely any of the other entries are as vague as this, and that plus some of the frankly bizarre sigils he’s having to draw to summon the damn thing are giving him no comfort. The only remotely comforting thing about it is that the ritual doesn’t require any blood- which either means the entity is benign, or it wants something more valuable than blood. 

…Okay, maybe not that comforting, actually. 

But, before he can consider that maybe this wasn’t his best idea and backing out would be for the best, the sigils flare with light, and Constantine squints to keep track of the way they activate, desperate for any indication of what he’s managed to summon with that stupid book. 

His feet feel feathery against the ground, like they’re barely tethered by gravity and just waiting to float away, and perhaps the seeming lack of atmosphere is fitting with how dust like stars lift from the summoning circle, bringing with them intercepting layers of purple-blue-pink-white, galaxies and nebulae being peeled off the floor. It comes with a sound- something whistling, almost. Seeming hollow, between a shriek and a bell ringing, or maybe more musical than that. It seems to change every moment he tries to focus on it, as if it’s something his ears can’t really hear but his brain is desperate to process, painful to try. 

And then, the entity begins to form. 

Unnoticeably at first, a white glow drifts forming in the centre. It congeals as Constantine’s gaze finally fixates on it, layers forming like jellyfish trails, or flowers, or peacock feathers with runic circles at the tips, fading smaller and smaller as they reach the centre, and a thing akin to a body unfolds into view at the front, a centrepiece. A child’s image of a shadow in opalescence, a strange curving feature where a neck might be, and searing-green spots of varying sizes scattered along the space where cheeks and eyes could’ve been, fading up and down across the lower-half of the ‘face’ and into the ‘hair’. He barely understands what he’s looking at, but maybe that’s the point. 

The sound of a thunderstorm rings across the room, and the curve of the neck unfolds, and it’s an eye, and the tips of a thousand twisted, cosmic peacock feathers become eyes as well, if they weren’t always. They move, wavering, either lashing or flickering from visibility. 

“And what is this?” The voice is a kaleidoscope, echoing off and from every corner of the room, and when they speak, infinite eyes become infinite mouths, too many teeth barely contained by the edges of what seem vaguely like frostbitten lips. To have something even remotely human suddenly etch itself onto the entity is somehow worse than the parts he can’t comprehend. “Who are you, to have summoned me, and seem so afraid?”

Constantine wishes, maybe for the first time, that it hadn’t been an obligation to do this alone; he’s never wanted Batman or one of the Light members with him more than now. It’s a difficult thing, almost impossible, to shake off the speechlessness. It’s a wonder that it’s possible at all, with how the room seems to have been twisted into a vacuum. “I was told you could- you could help with the pits?”

“The pits. There are many pits.”

God, this is creepy. “The Lazarus pits to, uh, to be specific. There’s a huge one cropping up under Gotham that’s not supposed to be there, and the local- I mean, the locals are getting antsy about it. …I heard you can take care of them.”

“I can smell its blood between the gaps of atmosphere, encircling. You, whose soul is bound in so many directions, who may be pulled apart like meat in time- can you sense it? Does it draw you?” John doesn’t know how this- this thing knows that, but he’s scared asking will invoke some kind of consequence, and more and more he’s wondering why the Hell he decided to do Batman this favour. He feels exposed. 

“Uh… no, I don’t think so. But can you fix it?”

“Yes.”

“…Will you fix it?”

The chill is getting to him. Goosebumps are running across his arms like a livewire, and he’s never doing anyone a favour ever again. The entity makes an approximation of a hum, his ears shriek with whale song and stars, and after a pause, everything switching up and down on itself, the peacock eyes form into huge, reaching hands. For a second, Constantine’s whole body freezes with terror, because he’s petrified the thing’s going to grab him, but then the arms tumble phasing into the ground, and the green spots on their ‘face’ flare with a supernova glow and they make another piercing noise, chiming or trilling. 

A long moment later, the hands slowly return to the entity’s back, and fade into the peacock feathers or jellyfish bells or whatever they were before, blinking at him. “It is gone.”

“Uh… cheers?”

“It will not return, but this place shall see its dead for some time. Try not to look.”

This is maybe the worst day of Constantine’s life. “Can I- uh, yeah, great advice. ‘Appreciate it. But, can I ask just, y’know, what you are? Or not.”

“That is up to you.” They say, and though the eyes that appear briefly between sentences bely or reveal no expression, it feels scrutinising. “What is it that closes doors? Is it alive?”

He hates riddles. He hates riddles and he hates cosmic horrors and he hates eldritch entities and he hates Batman for getting him to agree to this horrible favour. He wants to go back to the House of Mystery and pass out for long enough that this whole thing becomes a dream. “Fair enough! Forget I asked- cheers for sorting out that pit, though. Uh, don’t suppose you’ll just let me go on my way or anything now.”

“I know of your Bat.” 

Oh dear. Constantine’s stomach sinks like a shipwreck into the Mariana Trench, but the entity moves on like they’d never even said it. “I will recede, and find you in time, perhaps both. You will know when I am coming, and I will find my recompense.”

And just like that, their whole form shimmers into clouds and pearls and smoke and mirrors, and they fade back into the runes that summoned them like tap water down the drain. The galaxies they’d formulated within the confines of the room fold back in on themselves and turn to whispers and then nothing, but the feeling persists on his skin long after weight has settled back onto his bones. He hadn’t known a thing like that existed until now. He doesn’t know what it can do, doesn’t know how all-encompassing it truly is. 

And he owes it a favour. 

Crap. 

[cthulhusstepmom]

Hear me out:

Fae!Soap and Superstitious Bastard!Ghost.

Soap is of the Fae and what better place to have a casual disregard for human life than in the military? He enjoys what he does and God knows he's good at it. He skates comfortably under the radar, charming all those around him and facing almost 0 consequences for any of his actions until he runs into The Ghost; a man he's heard about and looks forward to picking apart, just to learn how he ticks. But Ghost isn't susceptible to his charm.

Ghost has gutted himself of sentimentality and emotion, for the most part. He allows himself a few harmless attachments: a specific brand of cigarettes, his bourbon, a book or two, and a small, iron, knot pendant given to him by his mother. It stays around his neck almost 24/7, one of the few presents from her that he'd managed to hide from his father's sadistic destruction.

John MacTavish, as he calls himself (his given name is closer to a description of the feeling evoked by a patch of small pink flowers in a splash of sun on a rocky cliffside, in a language that would make a human's ear drums bleed), is nothing if not fond of an enigma. So is it any wonder he finds himself spending more and more time around Ghost? Laying on actual charm and genuinely showing his personality for the first time in a long long time, delighted as The Ghost begins to reciprocate with a genuine blunt nature and twisted dark wit. He even allows himself a few touches though his skin is marred with ugly burns if the contact persists too long.

Ghost notices that Johnny is odd about a good number of things. Names, clothing, food, and jewelry to name a few. He observes a hard glint in his Sergeant's eye whenever he's handed a dossier on a target, caressing the name at the top of the page with a fiery gaze. Soap also doesn't eat much in front of people, he'll get food and move it around before he feigns taking it back to his room only to dispose of it once out of sight. One day Ghost had been in a particularly irritable mood from a discomfort he couldn't quite pin down but he spent the morning seeing Johnny's back disappearing around corners which only worsened his black mood. After lunch, preparing to let out his anger with a good workout he'd discovered his left sock had been inside out the whole day and swiftly after remedying that Johnny had appeared and not left his side for the rest of the day. (He'd credited it to his mood improving enough to not lower the temperature of whatever room he was occupying.) All these odd things are simply brush strokes on the canvas that makes up one John MacTavish in his mind. At least that's what he thought until Las Almas.

[mindstriker]

this is such a nothing post but i love it so much when people draw hancock fo4 based off of the concept art of him in the art of fo4 book literally it makes me go apeshit bonkers i love it a shitton

the idea of him looking different than a regular ghoul, having "decayed"/ mutated in a different way because of the method of his ghoulification, retaining some extra things like hair, a nose, the coloured irises of his eyes, etc. etc. GETS ME so badly. i love the idea of him being visually identifiable as different from your average ghoul, but no one can really put a pin on why because no one knows about the chem situation. i don't know. i'm too tired to make a good elaboration on why this is so good to me but i love it and it makes me want to see even more art of him based on that concept.

i should draw some myself honestly once i have the oomph to start drawing more again.

[todayisafridaynight]

reasons number A Million why not every rgg character needs to be +6ft he looks so fuckin stretched out. actually got put in the willy wonka taffy puller

[spacepunksupreme]

Passed by a middle-aged man in the grocery store just now who was playing Shape of My Heart by Sting aloud out of his apple watch, I was also listening to this exact song on my earbuds like a minute ahead of him, so I stopped and was like “omg are you listening to Sting right now? I’m listening to that exact same song right now too :D I love Sting he’s like my favorite.”

Mistake; this man looked down at me with the most awe-struck, love-filled eyes Ive ever seen, introduced himself to me, asked me what my name was (I told him my name was Adam. Second mistake because he said “Wow! That’s so unique of you, I love that, you seem so special”) and started trying to tell me other things about himself/ ask me questions about myself and I had to just be like “haha cool” and speed-walk away.

I can only assume this man has been playing Sting out loud in grocery stores just waiting for his weird girl sugar baby soulmate to recognize Sting and talk to him or something. I believe she’s out there, John. But I’m not her. I’m sorry, John, keep looking for her in the grocery store. Lmao

[1doesnotsimplyhavejust1fandam]

Not my roommate putting on that one Office episode where Jim and Roy are beefing over Pam with basketball, when it’s three days before THE jealousy episode of 9-1-1 comes out. How dare she!!!??