#PERFECTEDINGBADIDEAS

[worstrper]

@perfectedingbadideas​ // this is not the muse you wanted but im feeling a certain way. DON’T WORRY I’LL KEEP IT SPOILER-FREE

Doggett slid the card across the table. “This is you, right?”

And true enough, in clean lettering read the name JOHN CONSTANTINE, as well as the rest of his absurdly intricate title. It looked like the card had been kept in supremely good condition, tucked away somewhere nice instead of shoved and crumpled in someone’s pocket for five years.

“‘Exorcist, demonologist, and master of the dark arts’. All of those things?”

He was trying desperately not to feel stupid for consulting this guy, but the degree of success for that was... questionable. Nevertheless, he pushed on.

[manstar]

@perfectedingbadideas​

It was pretty dumb to be as excited as he was for ice cream, right? Syl pondered this as he also pondered his supposed levels of maturity. But he had the cello case (staff) in his back seat, and John was with him and in one piece, and to be honest, he was so stoked to have him around he didn’t really care if it made him seem twelve years old.

Once John was done with his job in Lincoln, Syl had all too happily let him stay at his place to rest up and get his bearings back. Now that he was back at a hundred percent, though...

“Welcome to Civic City!” Syl chirped just as they passed the sign. “It sucks there isn’t a Baskin-Robbins at Blue Valley, but at least Civic City isn’t too far, eh?”

[timedriving]

perfectedingbadideas:

[Text Hipster Disaster]: We’re passing that title back and forth.

[TXT] Hm. [TXT] And what did I do to earn it this time?

[huntresscaraquinn]

Continued from here:

@perfectedingbadideas​

When it came to hunts, unless they were specifically passed onto her by her - admittedly limited - number of contacts, Cara had to go with her gut. She’d search newspapers, police reports, chat rooms, anything that might lead her to her next job. But very rarely were things black and white. Very rarely did things scream ‘a supernatural creature was here.’ Sometimes she could find patterns, anything from odd weather to killings that had happened over centuries. Other times, she read or saw something, and it just felt... off. Like the police either had no clue what was going on and didn’t want to come out and admit it, or they made up a story rather than facing the supernatural head on. She couldn’t really fault them for the latter. Most would rather bury their heads in the sand than admit that this entire other world existed alongside - no, as a part of their own. And that it could reach out and take them at any moment.

Which was why when she read what was clearly a concocted story about a crazed man with a knife, she knew she needed to investigate. If it turned out to be nothing, no harm, no foul; she’d move on to the next job. But if it was something, then hopefully she would show up just in time to stop any other lives being lost.

She was currently carefully inspecting the crime scene, having jimmied open a side window instead of going throw the door that was still covered in police tape, when she heard the sound of someone approaching from behind. In an instant, she spun, gun raised and ready to be shot only to find - well, what appeared to be - a man standing in front of her. His words didn’t tell her much. He could just be a curious onlooker. Or one of the creepy types that liked to collect stories of the dead. Gun still raised, she demanded, “Who are you, and what are you doing here?”

[setitallaflame]

Continued from here:

@perfectedingbadideas

What was the phrase? You’re not paranoid if they’re really out to get you.

And ever since government agents had come looking for her and Ryder, ever since they’d fled their home and gone into hiding with other mutants, she knew they were really out to get her. And that feeling - that need to constantly look over her shoulder, to wait for the next attack - increased a million fold when their mutant safehouse was raided. When Ryder was killed.

She had intended on moving to a new safehouse, on staying hidden with other mutants, until she lost control of her powers. And not just in a way where she was upset or afraid, but in a way where she knew that something was wrong. That something within her was being altered. That she was changing. And that there was absolutely nothing she could do to stop it, especially without Ryder. Her balance in all things. The calmer of the hurricane.

So she took off. She’d been living on the streets for months, constantly moving to avoid police, government agents, or what seemed to be the ever-present mutant hate groups. And she did pretty well most of the time. She wasn’t visibly a mutant and - other than when she had no choice and lost control of her abilities - she avoided using them altogether. Still... Someone was following her. Had been following her. And while she really wanted to believe it was someone who wanted to steal her shit, or was just being a creepy asshole, she had a feeling she wasn’t going to get that lucky. “Why you’re following me.” She saw no point in beating around the bush. “Look, if you think there’s anything of value in my bag, unless you want an old sweatshirt, or a half-eaten stale bag of cheese puffs, or an old, dead i-pod that will get you next to nothing at a pawn shop, I’d suggest you find another target.”

[birdonawiresara]

Continued from here:

@perfectedingbadideas

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” Sara replied, unscrewing the lid and taking a sip straight from the bottle before asking, “How did you find me anyway?” She had a handful of hideouts throughout Starling, but few knew where they were. Maybe he asked Oliver, or Felicity. Or maybe he used magic, the way he had to bring her soul back from the hell it had been trapped in. Either way, she warned, “Might want to take a step to the right before moving any closer.”

The hole-in-the-wall was sparsely furnished - an old dilapidated couch that doubled as her bed, an uneven table she used to clean and sharpen weapons, and her go bag sat beside it. But that was what could be seen. She had traps rigged all over the room, always believing in using her surroundings to her advantage, in being prepared for whatever fight came her way. This time, it just happened to be the saver of souls with a bottle of whiskey.

“Pretty big favor,” Sara commented, knowing better than to ask what it was. Oliver liked to talk about his past about as much as she did, and she didn’t want to put Constantine in the position of sharing his secrets. Still... To risk what he did, it must’ve been huge. She took another sip of the whiskey before offering it back to him to take a drink of his own, “But I’m gonna guess you didn’t come all this way to bring me whiskey - or to finally get the thanks you were owed. So what’s up?”

[historiesandmemories]

@perfectedingbadideas

It was rare that Famine heard humans talking about demons, but the word seemed to be on everyone’s lips. Even the newscasters who Martel watched in the morning before work joked about recent misshapes being the cause of demons. Had it only been mentioned once or twice, something Famine overheard from a friend group’s conversation at a cafe, she might disregard it, but it was like the word was following her. The horseman was determined to find out why, if only to cure the boredom of laying around Martel’s house while he was at work.

The demon rumors had led the horseman to an old, abandoned hotel. The building was mostly rotting wallpaper and molding furniture, but people claimed to see demons in the windows, or to have encountered them on clandestine visits into the decaying structure. Famine was willing to bet the problem was much more human, but she could be surprised. Wouldn’t be the first time.

Famine made her way into one of the various hotel room and let out an unamused sigh; empty, like all the rest. Her footsteps padded on old carpet as she moved slowly about the room. She was almost to the window when a noise in the hall caught her attention. Muscles tensed as Famine whirled, looking to the door. The weight of her blades under her jacket were a comfort as she stepped back into the hall, peering out into the dark. Where there had once been empty hallways, there was now a man. 

Famine had half a mind to turn and leave, leave before she was spotted. But she was speaking before she could convince herself to move: “Looking for demons?” 

[youhavethetools]

@perfectedingbadideas asked for a kiss from Raven

Raven wasn't sure when she started drinking. She had solved a minor problem in town and had rolled into the bar. It was her second home besides her car.

She'd been flirting with the blonde most of the night. Upgrading his whiskey as her Russian blood proves strong. But it doesn't mean she isn't laughing and feeling tipsy from the alcohol.

She wasn't sure when she had yanked him by his tie over and begun kissing him, but he tasted like cigarettes and whiskey, her favorite. She hummed against his lips as her lithe little frame pressed against him.

She had come here to find someone to kill the hours with after all.

[blizzardmuses]

@perfectedingbadideas​ wants Dinah!

“And what is a place like this doing with a boy like you, honey?” the Canary questioned the magic wielder not many of them running around on her turf.

Splat the man that tried to fight her hit the wall landing from the knockback of her sonic scream. “Hey, relax. Here you go-” the Canary held out the signet ring the other man had tried to steal..or the blond man was trying to steal of the other at this point either could be the scoundrel, she took the side of the blond man simply because the other tried attacking her and she recognised her attacker. Good luck chucking spells with a bo staff smacking you on the throat.

Bad choice.

“Bullet Ben-” she nodded to the man groaning “..is a petty crook and I know just who he works for...I’m gonna need something in return if I take you to them hon-”

“I’m looking for a girl...she’s one of you magicky people. Favor for a favor, I take you to who hired Ben to steal that thing, you mention to the girl Dinah Drake is looking for her. Fair?” she asked producing her phone with a photograph of Zatanna Zatara taken from a show flyer, Dinah didn’t ask why her mother wanted to speak to Zatanna so urgently but hey, when a mage falls to your lap you take a chance he might know her or dump into her in their circles.

[rxsurrxcted]

@perfectedingbadideas​ from Starter

“You’re an asshole, you know that?” Jason was smiling though, a little teasing twinkle in his eyes and a smirk on his lip. John Constantine was, and always will be, an asshole. But that’s why Jason likes him. He can give as good as he takes, and he isn’t walking on egg shells around Jason. He said what he meant and trusted Jason could take the honesty. Frankly, it was refreshing. 

Jason spun his pistol on his finger, “Give me a good reason why I shouldn’t blast you here and now?” Not that Jason ever would. He has few allies, and even fewer friends. He wouldn’t risk killing one over a little joke. He’s sure John knew it too, knew Jason just liked to joke dangerously and live recklessly. “Give me a good enough reason and I may even put my gun away.”

[adventurepunks]

@perfectedingbadideas​ + zatanna // starter call

She had looked for him and found the mill nearly abandoned. The protective charms in place all proof she needed that he was still alive somewhere,their old haunts left unvisited,it would seem that her old friend either vanished from the face of the Earth (not unheard of when it came to John Constantine) or simply he did not want to be found which was quite plausible. When conventional means failed she could rely on her magic. All it took was a single strand of his hair and the right incantation tel em ees mih ( let me see him ) and she saw him surrounded by a ragtag team of people and found her issue was not where but when. She would be patient he would be back eventually, right?

“Guess who?” she covered his eyes with a gloved hand finding him finally in a bar and risking the teleportation around the corner from his whereabouts. Very few could even find him, she had half a mind to think he allowed her to,he could easily deflected any tracing spell if he had wanted to and someone as intune to his magic as John could tell he was being tracked and by whom.

“I heard the most interesting rumor about you. Glass of rosé and I might tell you” she beamed a warm smile and kissed the top of his wheat colored hair.

[intheageoficons]

@perfectedingbadideas​ sent “ ‘ i’ll go to bed when i’m ready, so fuck off. ’ “ || Sleep Starters || ALWAYS ACCEPTING

“Johnny!” Lucifer smiled, a joint in one hand, a drink in the other, and both arms wrapped around pretty women. “You don’t have to be so rude! We were just offering a good time.” He didn’t really like John Constantine, but he was going to be civil. For now.

[manstar]

perfectedingbadideas:

[Text Human Labrador]: You just randomly sent me a flavor of ice cream. I just figured you thought it would get me interested. [Text Human Labrador]: Do you even eat stuff like that? [Text Human Labrador]: Did you just send me an mmm? Have you had any yet?

[TXT] ‘mmm’ is a universal sound of deliciousness why are you making a thing out of it [TXT] it sounds delicious! come on

[timedriving]

@perfectedingbadideas​ is a terrible enabler Time Apprentice Rip + Punk Band Frontman John

Rip could do this. He knew he could do this. He’d had... God, what, at least eleven bottles of beer now? Twelve? Enough that there was a nice little haze in his head-- a feeling that was harder to get these days, it felt like-- and a bit more courage in his step as he approached the bar where Mucous Membrane’s vocalist had peeled away from the rest of his members.

The closer he got, the more he felt this was ridiculous. He was ridiculous. And he probably reeked it, stood by this leather-clad man’s side and all too aware of the fact all he had on was a cotton shirt and some ratty old jeans.

This was like approaching some kind of god whilst clad in a bathrobe and lazy slippers.

Man, the guy was pretty, though.

“Hi,” was the first thing he said, leaning against the bar and offering the man a half-smile, “can I buy you a drink?”

Oh, God, that was too cliche. Fuck. He’d ruined it.

But it was too late now for Rip to back out, too, and so he decided perhaps it would be best to just take his rejection like a man and time jump back to the Vanishing Point to finish his stupid paperwork.

[caudexiism]

@perfectedingbadideas gets a starter from Mia

“What the hell is going on here?” she asked, she did recognize the man, “and don’t give some stupid explanation.”

[setitallaflame]

Closed starter for @perfectedingbadideas who got Lucan in muse roulette!

The kid couldn’t have been more than three years old, but he’d just watched both of his parents get gunned down by government agents. And, if that wasn’t enough, they wanted him, too. A child ‘predisposed to being a mutant’ because both of his parents had the X gene. Best case scenario, they’d lock him away. Experiment on him. Worst case, he’d end up just like his parents.

Lucan refused to let that happen.

They just needed to make it to the meet up, they just needed to reach the other mutants who would help him to fight back and, ultimately, get them out of there. But when he heard someone approaching from behind, he was glad he was already holding the kid, his head buried in Lucan’s neck. Because he was brandishing his gun, prepared to take on anyone else who was coming for this boy tonight.