don't know what i want but i know how to get it; i wanna destroy the passerby

[heckblazer]

WHO: John Constantine, some bad children, various bad adults, maybe you?
WHERE: Roundabouts various cities
WHEN: Early to mid-February
WHAT: John's February Super Fun Wow Catch-All Extravaganza
WARNINGS: To be tagged as necessary



((Tags in comments below. HIT ME UP IF YOU WANNA PLOT! I'm open for almost anything and would love to throw John at most of y'all.))

Comments

INANNA;

[heckblazer]

[ In his assigned house in Heropa, John's bedroom is less an actual bedroom, with the way he treats it. It's more a ritual sanctum that he happens to keep a mattress in. He's..."customized" it a fair bit into something he's comfortable with.

He's long since ditched frills like pajamas, sheets, and blankets. Acclimatized as he was to the wet and chilly British airs, the Florida weather left him anxious to cool down most nights. At least, the nights he actually slept. Even then, he less fell asleep and more passed out thanks to his liquid habit. Not like anyone would care if it effected him, least of all himself.

He's in boxers overdue for a wash, sprawled across the mattress, both he and the bed in a mangled state. At some point during his stay in this world, he must have torn open the mat and yanked out stuffing to make it thinner, harder, not able to relax on something that soft. Must have been one of those things he did on the list of nights he couldn't rightly remember. He's not sure what time it is and any errands he had planned today are already gone from his memory. Instead, he decides it's a good day to be dead to the world.

He keeps meaning to reinforce the wards on the house, but he's too embittered with his stupid flatmates to be concerned for them.

Sighing, he paws for his trenchcoat and pulls it over himself like an improvised blanket and closes his eyes again. He prefers to use it for cover, relying on it less for maintaining body heat and more for the sense of security. ]

[purple_reign]

[Probably the last thing John wants to see is that goddamn stardust that always heralds Inanna's arrivals, so it's really a good thing that his eyes are closed when it happens. He won't have to watch the goddess take form in his..."""bedroom""" or groan at the concerned look they give the sad excuse of a room.]

Ah...I feel like I should be offering you an interior decorator. [Or a professional cleaning crew.]

[heckblazer]

[ Oh. It's them. It wouldn't have mattered if he had warded the house, then, considering that this lot just went where they wanted even when he did try to avoid them.

John furrows his brow and keeps his eyes shut, burying his face into the collar of his coat. ]

I've a system here. An aesthetic. Suits me fine.

[purple_reign]

[Unfortunately Inanna can't be banished by ignoring them.]

It's a mattress in a room. You could at least get a bed frame for it.

[heckblazer]

[ He winces. Somehow, the gentleness to their voice made John's head pound worse than if they'd showed up in a state. ]

Had one, if you'll recall. Wasn't my style.

[purple_reign]

I liked it.

[They sit down. Just right there, in the air. Bonuses of having the power of flight. And this way they don't need to sit down on the mattress John has ruined in the name of improvements.]

I came to apologize for vanishing earlier. I assume Persephone told you about that.

PERSEPHONE;

[heckblazer]

[ He hated it so goddamned much.

John had stepped by Maurtia Falls to run errands for the girl - the usual busywork like picking up dry cleaning, shaking payments out of venue owners, replenishing her makeup kit (how did she go through eyeliner so fast?). He's doing the latter, stepping out of a drug shop when he glances up and sees the stupid billboard.

He'd signed up for the modelling contest for the lark, and showed up for the shoot because the money was good. But he'd also been a deliberate slouch, sabotaging every attempt they made at getting a decent photo. Public attention wasn't really his style. But the bastards had made it work. And insult to injury, the billboard was across the street from one of the kids' preferred concert halls.

The image is a blown-up picture of him looking as curmudgeonly as ever with a cigarette. The background was edited to look like a grungy, urban backdrop rather than the studio he'd been in. Imposed across the negative space of the photo was the advertising text, stylized with an attempt at punky lettering:

SMOKING ISN'T COOL
its blazing
C&M TOBACCO

Trying not to draw attention to himself, John takes a photo of the visual atrocity, sending it to the person he knows would most want to destroy it. ]

[pummelgranite]

Yeah that's basically the worst thing I've ever seen. What are you thinking?

[heckblazer]

so.

do you want to test your theory on whether famous people can get away with more shit?

fire, grafitti, errant vine-tendrils, whatever you want.

[pummelgranite]

Uh huh. Where is that? By the Uptown station?

[heckblazer]

Yup.

[pummelgranite]

Meet you in 20.

JACK;

[heckblazer]

[ By the time John arrives to the Castille on Valentine's Day, the rooms are already well-booked with amorous couples (and occasionally, more than two people), the majority of whom can be heard through the old walls and doorways of their room, for those who'd bothered to shut their doors, at least. The groans and cries of the Lord's name in vain make up a strange rounding chorus as John strides through the hallways.

Tempting as the various siren calls and invitations to join a few rooms had been, John had a specific purpose to his visit today, which is why he's heading in the direction of a narrower hallway containing a string of employee's rooms.

As much as John was enjoying the slow and subtle approach, it was getting to be a drag, and he suspected a more direct approach might actually get under his friend's thick, irritable skin. ]

[neverdied]

[Jack doesn't do Valentines Day. No surprises there. What Jack does do is sleep, watch TV and eat people, and that evening he's doing two of those things at once.

The TVs blaring to cover for any of the noises in nearby rooms, some piece of shit reality show that he's paying very little attention to, his mind elsewhere for the time being. It's a fairly standard scene for the most part; a middle aged guy sat in his boxers and an old t-shirt, watching trash and seriously considering the idea of sleep. The only difference here is the arm he's snacking on. Not his own. There's a third arm in this equation, just the upper half, one that's been removed at the shoulder and the elbow, still looking relatively fresh as he tears out chunks from it every now and then like it's little more than a chicken leg.

Well, it's better than starving himself and going on murder sprees.]

[heckblazer]

[ If Jack didn't want visitors, he should probably lock his door better.

He may or may not hear the telltale clicking of the lock being picked or the whine of the door hinges opening. Then again, with the back of the chair to the door John isn't tipped off to anything amiss just yet.

He's come empty-handed save for his usual odds and ends in his coat pocket, his agenda consisting, as per usual, of bothering his silver-haired friend. ]

[neverdied]

[Visitors aren't exactly something he usually has to worry about except for a certain few ghost types who like to catch him at the most inappropriate times, but if they really wanna drop in unannounced then a locked door certainly wouldn't stop them.

Any other unwanted visitors aren't a concern for this immortal either.

What he doesn't expect is someone familiar breaking in while he's comfortably taking an evening snack, and yet when he hear's that barely audible click of the door, picking the sound out amongst the din of the blaring TV, he twists around in his chair enough to catch sight of the intruder and...]

Ugh.

[Yup, so glad to see you, John. So glad and with only the smallest amount of blood on his chin.]

i'm sorry that he is like this

[heckblazer]

Wot? Got bored. Half the time when we get together there's a dozen or so bloody kids around to mind.

[ That, and John wouldn't mind a better idea of what in the nine hells his mate's deal was, and felt like looking for hints before the century was out. He'd been half hoping on the man being in one of his signature death-like slumbers, or maybe out calling numbers for his fanclub at the Bingo Hall.

Then again, that odd bit of blood smeared on Jack's face was a pretty damning clue. ]

Mate, you've, ah, got something -- just there. [ He gestures vaguely around the lines of his own mouth and jaw jerkily, attempting to be helpful and keep a pokerface of sorts. ]

JESSICA;

[heckblazer]

[ It hadn't been too much of a chore to find the girl on the network, even for a tech-illiterate jokester like John. He lived in a world of magic and organic things. The brick of metal and plastic had always felt unreal in his hands, and other than its well-cracked screen, it hardly looked like something he ought to even own.

Still, he managed to find the odd girl with the temper easily enough. She didn't seemed like she got out much, but she was the only person John had met here whom seemed like she could keep up with him in the drinking department. Plus, maybe they could swap notes on their trauma and "grow from the experience" or some nonsense. Good help was hard to find.

And so John finds a patio in Heropa good for people-watching, orders a bottle of scotch, sends a message to her, and waits. ]

[hardedged]

[ jessica shows up — not on time, of course, but that's no surprise. still, she eventually appears, entering the establishment with a scowl on her face. a part of her instantly regrets her decision to meet him. he's one of the few individuals here who's witnessed a glimpse of her past, and that thought alone spells trouble.

with an annoyed sigh, she tucks her hands into the pockets of her jacket, then approaches john. ]

Just one?

[ jess stares at the bottle of scotch flatly. she's going to need more than that. ]

[heckblazer]

[ He's surprised she came at all, not that he'd say so. It's not often that John admits to himself that he needs friends. But she might do. ]

For now. Might change it up to brandy after this one.

WANDA;

[heckblazer]

[ Because this had gone so well the last time, John you idiot.

The "last time" ending with him hastily bolting from her apartment in the midst of a trauma-induced blackout, only for her son to teleport into John's living room at 3am a few days later and interrogate him. Between the minefield that was his own memories and the poor girl being sandwiched between two generations of overly-concerned male family members, her isolated existed wasn't...much of a mystery, putting it mildly.

So it's perhaps pity and perhaps a curiosity in whether his brain will go pear-shaped again that compels him to visit her bake shop, shuffling through the front door with his shoulders hunched and hands clenched in pockets, as if anticipating an assault of some sort. ]

[divaricate]

[She's behind the counter, working -- putting a dusting of cinnamon on some stuff that she's finishing up with. The most noticeable thing about her as she's doing this task is that her hair (which is tied up tightly so it doesn't get in her face or the food) is a bright reddish-orange/yellowish-orange, as it's been for the past couple of weeks. This is what happens when she gets bored and desires a drastic change.

Anyway, the cinnamon that didn't make it onto the pastries and ended up on the counter is swept up quickly as she gathers it with her red, telekinetic energy and deposits it in the nearest trashcan. And then she finally looks up to see a familiar face and offers a half smile.]

Hi. [Short, simple.]

[heckblazer]

[ There's just a noticeable wince in his body language as she speaks, the cool and direct greeting near worse than all the countless times he'd had friends and loved ones shout him down.

Now's your chance, dumbarse. Stroll back through the door and don't -- ]

Morning. You went ginger on purpose?

[ You fucking dolt. ]

[divaricate]

Yeah, weird things happen when I get bored. [She sounds like she's kind of joking but also not really. She's not wrong. As can be seen.] So, what can I get for you? --Or was it conversation you came for? Because if it's that, we should probably sit at a table. [She'd have time for a break if so. Often, people she knows will stop in here to visit with her when she's not as busy.]

[heckblazer]

Up t'you, I guess. Wouldn't say no to tea, though.

[ Although he does sit at a small table all the same, mentally cursing himself for his own stupidity a little more. ]