grave digger, grave digger.

let me be the one that got away.

rules.

( i don't require a password, but please do throw an eye at them! )

art credits.

this carrd's first picture and the blog's header is from the cover art for "hellblazer: new editions" volume #13 (i can't find the name of the illustrator at the moment, shoot me a message if you find them!);art used in the avatar and the promo image is the cover art for "the hellblazer" volume #13, made by yasmine putri.art used in the pinned post and in the headers is by matías bergara.art used in the icons has been made by me.all edits have been made by me; any art reblogged or posted on the blog with the tag 'sketchbook' has been drawn by me.

info.

name. john constantine.
age. 34 years old by default. his age can change accordingly to our thread.
gender. male ( he/him ).
residence. any rented apartment he can afford for the time, rarely staying in the same place for more than a month. sometimes he can manage a night to one of his few friend's house, and sometimes he sleeps straight out in a street if he can't find a place for the night. he does have a family mansion, but generally avoids staying in there.
alignment. neutral good, desperately trying to look like a true neutral.body. of medium constitution, mistreated by years of magic, violence, and skipped meals substituted with alcohol and cigarettes. sigils warding him of various demonic threats are tattooed on his back, arms and chest.
scars. too many, scattered all over his body. most come from magically healed wounds and are barely visible.

grave digger, grave digger.
forget what i have done.
forgive me if you please.

john constantine — sorcerer, alcoholic, fated to go
straight to hell when he'll die whatever he does.
what a lovely beginning for a story of redemption.

• bio
• knowledge
• relationships

headcanons

bio.

content warning for neglect, suicide, alcoholism,
horror imagery and general dark topics.

john was born in a modest family of london, only child of a couple who could afford a slightly wealthier life than average. they had many dreams during pregnancy, thinking already of giving their son the holiday mansion when he'd be an adult, the journeys together, the everyday life of them helping him with homework and playing with him outside, seeing him growing up and become a man.
but it all seemed to shatter the day of john's birth, when complications forced the medics to take a decision: save the mother, or the child. when the nurse showed the father his newborn, his eyes were empty, and he could only see the one who brought away the love of his life.he always tried not to make it weigh on john, but some evenings he would be too drunk, too tired, too sad. those were the evenings he'd point at his son and call him a killer, and ignore his pleas and tears. because of this, john learned pretty soon that crying was simply useless, and for a time, he stopped doing so. he limited himself to going to school, enjoy the good days of his father, and close his ears on the bad days. after a while, it just became everyday life, something he just had got used to. it was going fine, more or less; but then things started to change against his will again.it started on the bus on the way home when he was 12. he knew almost everyone that took it at that time, after school, when most of the other kids had got out and just a few remained. it felt like he always knew the old woman sitting three sits ahead of him, like every day - yet, that day he Saw her for the first time. her face changed shape, the skin melted to reveal something different underneath, something that was not human. he got out of the bus three stops early, shaking and crying, telling himself that he was just tired, and everything would be better after he just slept. but the next day he went on the bus again, and the old woman changed shape again. and so the next day, and the next one, and it only worsened. he started to See others change as well, on and out of the bus, in and out of school. everywhere he would look, he would See something he never Saw before.
he kept it hidden for as long as possible, but even through the alcohol his father noticed the constant fear in his eyes. when he managed to push him to talk, forcing him in a corner until john screamed the problem and ran to his room crying, guilt overwhelmed him like an ocean: he treated his son so poorly, for so long, that it got a toll on his mind. he made his son mad. they talked that evening, for the first time in so long, and his father promised him he would do anything he needed to fix his mistakes and heal his mind.
john didn't know how to explain him that he was sure what he was Seeing was real. but at the same time, he thought, it could be his madness. maybe, he was mad.he went through all kinds of therapy. psychologists, psychiatrists, medicines, debatable treatments, anything that money could buy, he went through - but it all was just getting worse and worse. his senses were getting more acute, he started to See not only people changing but also people that weren't there to begin with, he started to Hear whispers of what just didn't exist ( because they didn't, right? ). in and out of psychiatric wards for years, at 15 it was decided to attempt with electroshock, which only got him catatonic for days. one of those evenings, while his father was holding him in an awkward hug, putting the blame on himself instead of comforting his son, repeating over and over the word "madness" in his ear, john fully convinced himself that he wasn't Seeing anything. nothing of what was around him was real. his father was right. he was mad. and nothing would ever change.he waited to be back home. waited for his father to go out for some groceries, which he knew would become more of alcohol than anything to eat. he went to the bathroom, looked at his form in the mirror, that poor wrenched teen that started his life as a killer and was now paying the price for it. his reflex shattered with his sobs, he didn't understand why, but he thought he just hit the mirror without realizing. he was mad, after all. he picked up one of the shards without really thinking about it. he already killed his mother. it wouldn't be that hard to kill himself.
the ambulance was fast, but not enough. his heart stopped for two minutes on the way to the hospital before the determination of the paramedics could make it start again - and two minutes seem to last years in hell. his soul was destined there, no matter what he'd do: it was a promise made by laughing demons holding tight the token of his soul, now their priced possession. but that also had an unexpected consequence: when he opened his eyes, john was suddenly aware that all he was Seeing was real.
sure, a small consolation, now that there was a seat in hell with his name on.he left home one night within the following months, as soon as he felt strong enough to walk alone, before his father could bring him to the next electroshock session. the next few years were a mess, in and out of police stations, hospitals and shelters, until in one of the latter he found a group he finally felt a connection with: teens and young adults studying self-taught magic from old dusty volumes, always happy to welcome a new lost soul between them. they shared with him their knowledge, making him discover another piece of the world that not only immediately fascinated him, but that he discovered to be particularly good at. he learned incredibly fast, becoming among the best practitioner of their group in little time, making him feel in a way he never felt before: proud of himself. they spent years together, eventually getting to cohabit john's holiday house that his father hadn't looked at since his mother's death. it became their shelter, until john went too far.he was told to stay away from dark magic, but he just wouldn't listen. john was sure there was something more, something useful in it, that could be used for protection, perhaps to save his soul, too, somehow. when one of the members of the group died suddenly, john knew what to do to bring her back. he loved her, he wanted her to live again - but more than anything, maybe, he wanted to prove he was right. the ceremony was perfect in every detail, it all went the right way. until a life was asked to bring another life back, and the magic decided to take her daughter. any attempt to stop the ceremony ended in nothing, and the child's hand slipped from his own as the magic brought her away. his friend wouldn't return to her body without her child: refusing to live, but forced between the living, she became a vengeful spirit that john had to lock in a room of the mansion to avoid being killed. shaking, he left the mansion that very night, letting the group decide if they wanted to stay there or leave without his presence.some contacted him again, offering him small jobs. john was pretty sure they just wanted to see him, make sure he was okay, but the jobs were real, such as the money he made from them, though in small amounts. his ability with magic was remarkable, they told him. you can do something good with it, john, really. he started to travel much more, first in england and then moving out, brought to america by one member of the group. despite the best efforts of the few friends he had left, john was starting to let himself go, drowning his guilt in alcohol and attempting to ignore the more and more voices he could Hear from the ever lengthening list of people dying because of him. something good with my magic? he found himself thinking more and more. no, not me. he went lower and lower in a hole of guilt and despair, and down there, suddenly, he met desmond.desmond was kind, and loving. desmond was his heaven. it started as just an exchanged glance at the pub, when he handed john his order, and they ended sharing the night. it seemed like just another one night stand, but then they met again, and the night together slowly started to evolve into something more solid. for the first time in so many years, john started to feel loved, and protected. when they bought a house instead of just renting it, he finally felt like he had a place for himself in the world again. desmond loved him, the mad lad, and john loved him back with all his heart. their relationship lasted almost one full, wonderful year. but when the demon neron came, holding the token of john's soul and expecting him to help overthrow the vicariate, he knew everything was about to end. he fought for his relationship, for himself - told the demon to go back to hell, and begged desmond to leave until he would have found a solution. but desmond did the unthinkable: he struck a deal with neron himself, in an attempt to save him; and in a moment of panic, john knew that desmond had doomed the both of them this way. crying desperately, he initiated the ritual to send neron to hell - which would have dragged desmond down, too. he heard him cry his name in panic, and the heat of hellfire burning his hands as he forced the portal to close. and in the end, he was alone again.escaping seemed the best solution, somewhere out of time and space. when sara asked him to join the legends, his initial refuse turned into a rushed agree at neron's threat of returning for him. it didn't work - he was looking for a place to hide, somewhere where he could just disappear from the world, and instead found the last thing he thought he deserved: people to love and who loved him back. a family. when he returned to his everyday life, he left them on good terms, telling them to call him whenever he might have been needed; yet, somehow even more preoccupied. being his friend only means trouble, and the list of people who might be in danger because of him only kept getting longer.one good thing came out of it all, though: john fought. he found again a fighting spirit he thought was long gone, despite feeling the need to fuel it with constant alcohol and rarely feeling it strong enough to care about himself for more than the time of a weekly meal. suddenly, john started to think that maybe, just maybe, he could find a solution for his soul. that maybe he could find a place for himself in heaven, or at the very least have a fair shot at it. he just doesn't know how, at the moment. he has troubles believing he is worth something: but the legends did get fond on him, and desmond did love him, for some absurd reason he still can't comprehend.
maybe, he does deserve something. maybe he'll find a solution. maybe.

public vs non-public knowledge

( work in progress - coming soon! )

relationships

( work in progress - coming soon! )

alternative universes

the character sheet and the bio refer to the main universe, tagged as "DC / MODERN"..SCP FOUNDATION | REDACTED NUMBERitem #: scp-▊▊▊▊
object class: safe keterspecial containment procedures: due to its high unpredictability, the anomaly must be contained in an isolated room, standard human size, inside a bigger room. a minimum of two militia per door must be always guarding them, and be ready to call for an emergency in case the anomaly was to breach security. walls of the inner chamber have to be periodically checked both inside and outside for potential change in their structure: if this happens, the anomaly must be transferred in another similar room on the other side of the site, and the room must be brought to the original state. the anomaly must always be kept under constant control, and sedatives are to be released in the room at any danger of reality breaking.
the anomaly must not be put under pressure or distress if not for tests, that have to be approved by the o5 council. it is allowed to smoke as much as it wants, but not to drink alcohol if not for tests or a last resource to calm it down.description: scp-▊▊▊▊ is a blond man in his 30s, malnourished and bearing evident signs of torture, experimentation and heavy trauma. it appears hyper vigil, tense and distrustful, though accepting of the containment as long as he's feeling safe. at the moment, of its seven security breaches, none of them seemed voluntary.
scp-▊▊▊▊ has been found during the foundation blitz attack of site ▊▊▊-▊▊, one of the chaos insurgency operative bases: the anomaly was being held in an isolated room, alone, and was found tied to a chair and only half-conscious. what brought to the initial hypothesis of a possible anomalous nature was the state it was found: despite clear signs of an explosion inside the room in an attempt perhaps to make it disappear, bodies were scattered around it but the anomaly itself was untouched, if not for signs of older wounds.
proof of it being an anomaly came soon after its hospitalization in site ▊▊: scp-▊▊▊▊ revealed itself to be a reality bender, incapable of controlling, if not even understanding, what it is doing nor how. investigations have hypothesized that the chaos insurgency was attempting to create a new kind of anomaly, but the blitz attack to their site interrupted the experiments, leaving an incomplete anomaly, though still human and able to think. later interviews with the anomaly seemed to have confirmed this partially, though the subject has no recollection of its life before the chaos insurgency and has vague memories of the experiments.
somehow, the chaos insurgency seems to have created a link inside its head to be able to control it from a distance: though not being able to decide its movements, they seem to be able to trigger some sort of extreme response in it that caused six of the security breaches.
bringing the anomaly back to its original human self, or to at least a normal life, is theoretically possible despite extremely difficult; it is however high the risk of victims in every security breach, way more frequent than we'd like, and even higher the risk of his anomaly getting completely out of control and causing a potential disaster, if not a end of reality scenario. if necessary, the anomaly must be neutralized..DEAD BY DAYLIGHT | THE FOG WHISPERS( description to be added ).POKEMON | THROUGH WORLDS( description to be added )