[punkmacabre]

     *     ♱   :  PROPHECY'S   RAGGED   &   DIRTY.       a     private,     selective     writing     blog     for     vertigo     comics'     𝔧𝔬𝔥𝔫     𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔢.     headcanon     based     &     reinterpreted     for     matt     reeves'     the     batman.     inspired     by     delano's     & spurrier's comic     run,     se7en,     constantine     (     2005     )     among     𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛     𝚖𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚎𝚜.     set within the occult noir genre. rules underneath the cut. this     blog     will     contain     sensitive     topics     &     dark     themes.     ⎯⎯⎯     follow     at     your     own     risk.

ESTABLISHED june 2023 . . . REVAMPED sept 2023

Visit Original Link

    ( ♱ )  a  study  in:    home    is    where    the    horrors    begin,   shaking    hands    still    searching    for    a    light,    anarchy    towards    the    narrative    (    doomed    as    the    false    martyr    ⎯⎯    𝚢𝚘𝚞    𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛    𝚊𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚍    𝚝𝚘    𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜    )    hell's    hungry    &    ready    to    devour /    love    all    consuming    as    a    selfish    act, nothing's    fair    in    love    &    war,    the price to pay for power, uncanny    depravities    faced within    a    broken    system,    fundamental    question    posed:    a    cigarette    last    four    minutes,    a    bottle    of    whiskey    two    hours,    how    bloody    long    can    a    man    keep    screaming?

     ◟     🪦     carrd  ...   headcanons ...   pinterest

♯ 𝒊. with the complexities of john as a character, his decisions being seen as 'morally grey', and generally the themes that come with the occult and noir genre, there'll be heavy mention of: religion, horror ( body + supernatural/demonic ), abuse ( child, institutional - alluded to but never explicitly written ), blood, violence, politics and the failures of government systems, death, grief, guilt, alcoholism, mental illness and occultism amongst others that may come up. please don't ever hesitate to message me if there's an error in my understandings of these topics as i'm constantly researching on some, and others are based of my own personal experiences. a tagging system will be in place ( e.g: ' trigger tw ' and ' trigger ' ) similarly with nsfw tags ( e.g: ' nsfw ' and ' nsfw / ' ) do let me know if there's any specifics you need otherwise.

♯ 𝒊𝒊. john will follow his main canon up to the family man storyline, there it'll diverge between ming doyle's 2013 run and vaguely the 2005 film ( with extreme creatively liberty, following the main storybeats and more-so inspired by the film's aesthetics ). dc's interpretation will mostly be ignored besides doyle's run and his canon relationship with oliver. written heavily with a mix of fincher's early work, matt reeves' the batman and 70s horrors. as his main fc is oliver jackson-cohen, constantine will be written as ethnically egyptian jewish + a man of colour but considers himself religiously secular. he wears a star of david as a means of sentimentality ( the only thing he has of his mother ) as a jewish writer myself, this is very important to note and any sort of intolerance towards it will be immediately hardblocked.

♯ 𝒊𝒊𝒊. as always, basic etiquette applies ( don't be a cunt ! ) this blog is mutuals only and intended be plot heavy, however, i'm always free and open to chat ooc either on ims or discord. shipping and exploring dynamics are always encouraged but do note that this must be discussed prior ( there are many faults he's gotta admit to, if death and betrayal doesn't comes first 💀 ) john is bisexual with neither preference.

♯ 𝒊𝒗.  will  absolutely  not  interact  with  genderbent  muses,  or  muses  that  represent  /  explore  harmful  ideologies  (  n/zis,  r/cists,  h/mophobes,  ab/lists,  etc  )  i  won't  interact  also  with  problematic,  deceased  or  underaged  fcs,  those  who  write  incest  /  stepcest,  r/pe,  non-con,  antisemitism,  or  anything  harmful  towards  minors.  this  blog  is  also  20+  for  muns,  due  to  the  content's  nature. also  for  my  sake,  i  won't  write  with  stranger  things  or  teen  wolf  blogs.

♯ 𝒗.  thank  you  for  reading  !!  my  name  is  livia,  i'm  twenty2,  jewish  with  she  +  they  pronouns  living  in  the  aest/gmt+10  timezone.  my  activity  will  fluctuate  since  i'm  a  full  time  film  student  and  working,  however  i'm  super  excited  to  write  about  this  miserable  lil'  git  !!  discord  will  be  available  on  request  but  feel  free  to  send  memes,  ask  or  flood  my  ims  -  they  will  always  be  wanted 🖤🖤

[punkmacabre]

if it's not yet obvious already after getting sick, taking on a summer class and with the holidays coming up, i'm gonna place this blog on a hiatus at the moment ! i love john and writing him with my entire being but i think post holidays i may do another blog refresh and have a proper arc / info sorted for him because there's so much and i forget not everyone can read my mind lsdkafj. you can still find me on discord ( kisscfvenus ) if you ever want to chat or plot but until then happy hannukah ( and happy holidays < 3 ) to those who celebrate, i love and hopefully will be back with lots more energy !!

[punkmacabre]

sorry for being so mia as of late !! my iron levels have been beneath the nine circles of hell and all i've done is slept 😭 things will be drafted n queued — thank you for being so patient with lil' old me

[possession1981-moving]

BRAM STOKER'S DRACULA dir. Francis Ford Coppola, 1992

[punkmacabre]

sorry for being so mia as of late !! my iron levels have been beneath the nine circles of hell and all i've done is slept 😭 things will be drafted n queued — thank you for being so patient with lil' old me

[punkmacabre]

john was somewhere around twenty five the night of the newcastle incident and the damnation of astra logue. he only ever saw glimpses of her the few times mucous membrane played at the casanova club, hiding behind the bar or being dragged down to the basement by her father. john was around twenty five when he was accused of astra's murder and sent to ravenscar to be institutionalised ( because who would trust the words of a guilty man ? ), the year astra is suppose to turn twenty five john is the only one that mourns for her, the date devastates him when he sees it in the paper as he sits outside with his guilt, a pint, a pack of crumpled silk cuts and his gaze never looking up.

[vivienvalentino]

Oliver Jackson Cohen in a coat is something that can be so personal

[punkmacabre]

there's something to say about the roles and influence played by heaven and hell in terms of environment. because john interacts with demons (or those who aren't considered 'holy' — which to john, is just another title of exclusivity like prince or prick) more often than not. he's a witness to their greed, to their envy, this desperation for souls and what better way to collect more is to directly interact with humans ? make bets, invite them to indulge. with heaven, there's the obvious prideful attitude that comes with the wings and halo set, but what really drives john angry at heaven is their sin of sloth. their attitude is lazy, blasé. heaven and its' creatures, at their core, are apathetic. they don't care for what happens to humanity, after all g-d did flood the world once — why shouldn't he do it again if it's in the divine plan ? their facade of innocence to this apathy enrages him, especially as someone who has asked for heaven's help or at least some sort of sign, and all he got was silence. heaven is so desired and yearned for, and yet, it's nothing more than some exclusive posh club with a bizarre dress code and probably overpriced drinks. and if anything, for all of hell's greed, for all of their sins, at least they're honest about their nature, ( or at least as honest as a demon can get. )

[loneheirs]

M. haven’t you heard the stories ?

the grounds beneath elliot manor are nothing but endless passages , passages that were meant to confuse - said that this family drew inspiration from the winchester house , though the tunnels that lay ore than forty feet under rival anything that the batman has seen. a light guides the pair , and as john's voice reverberates through old passages , the batman looks over his shoulder.

❝ haven't you heard the stories ? ❞ / @punkmacabre

' oh john don't tell me you've been digging into the lore of this family ... ' shades of humor and something else that hides beneath tone evident as he continues , ' haven't you been to hell and back ? '

they're here because it's the next step , this family had a hold on gotham that rivaled the waynes - two sons bruce and thomas borne into a world that resembled royalty. though ? nothing was ever as it seemed and the pretty facade of looming mansions and beautiful people only masked the true horrors. there were demons that crawled into the very walls of the elliot household.

the kind of demons that one never shakes , and changes one ever so. perhaps bruce and thomas were meant to fall out , thomas challenging bruce as he became envious of bruce's orphan existence. it seemed thomas' parents thrived on cruelness and the kind of abuse that would leave its mark for years.

' they say he left something down here before he murdered his mother ... ' the batman begins , ' you'll find that every founding family is steeped in misery ' they come to an impasse , a door with three levers. ' curses they say from the land ' the batman then stops , and pulls out an old journal. ' dabbled in some black magik ... ' passes said journal to john as he clears throat , ' aleister crowley ... thomas' father wrote about him endlessly - though , an english occultist ... worshiped by rockstars ? ' the batman then looks at the door , ' read out that pattern will you ... am i pushing the lever five times up and bringing it sideways or is it five times left and down three times ? '

[punkmacabre]

𝙳𝙴𝙴𝙿     𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙾     𝚃𝙷𝙰𝚃     𝙳𝙰𝚁𝙺𝙽𝙴𝚂𝚂,     travel     further     in     a     labyrinth     which     twists     with     unease.     there's     a     knot     atrophied     in     his     stomach,     nothing     but     dependent     on     a     single     light     to     stop     caliginous     absence     swallowing     them     whole.     like     a     hound     he     trails     behind,     take     lessons     from     stories     told     before,     ash     falling     behind     ⎯     tap,     tap,     tap.

a     knavish     grin     tugs     at     the     mouth,     canines     revealing     itself     in     the     dark.     ❛❛     what     ?     and     you     haven't     ?     -     huh     -     it     was     nothin'     more     than     a     bit     of     light     readin',     some     old     fashioned     research     if     you     will.     ❜❜     (     old     fashioned     as     in:     get     someone     else.     nothing     but     headlines     and     vicious     tabloids.     cruel     stories     of     two     from     the     same,     ichorous     coin.     )     derelict     shrug     echos     within     the     walls,     a     chuckle     rattles     out     from     the     rotting     ivory     cavity     inside,     ❛❛     yeah,     and     i     can     tell     ya     hell     wasn't     so     bloody     stuffy.     ❜❜     another     tap.     surely     they     won't     mind,     truly     you     don't     care     that much.     

cruelty     speaks     with     gluttony,     in     abundance,     the     sound     reverberates     the     walls     that     confine     them.     money     can't     buy     everything     but     it     certainly     CAN     BUY     BELIEF;     a     bright     enough     illusion     to     overshadow     what     real     horrors     await     underneath.     the     truth     is     suffocated     between     the     walls,     choked     within     every     passage.       all     the     paint,     polish     and     expensive     art     doesn't     remove     the     stain.     (     your     father     couldn't     afford     to     𝚑𝚒𝚍𝚎     𝚝𝚑𝚎     𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗,     could     he     ?     )     upturned     lilt     comes     out     as     something     weary;     inhale,     ascetic     exhale.     

❛❛     heh,     misery     does     love     her     company.     ❜❜     and     don't     you     bloody     know     it     !     aporetic     sigh     escapes     with     the     remnants     of     smoke,     cigarette     reserved     in     the     shadow     of     grimace.     open     hands     take     the     journal     as     real     curiosity     glints     in     the     silver     hues.     ❛❛     black     magik     ?     real     nasty     business     that.     ❜❜     cadence     trails     off,     callous     fingers     scrutinising     through     the     pages.     ❛❛     crowley     had     a     real     hard     on     with     controlling     your     own     destiny     'n'     whatnot.     couldn't     decide     on     which     higher     bein'     to     connect     with     so     why     not     fucking     all     of     'em.      and     rockstars,     well     . . .     screamin'     girls,     devoted     followers,     bit     of     one     of     the     bloody     same,     innit     ?       ❜❜

𝚖𝚞𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚍     𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚍𝚛𝚢     and     hand     drawn     iconography     held     his     interest,     edges     of     the     world     stopped     at     the     corner     of     the     pages.     the     bat's     voice     nothing     more     than     a     delicate     resonance,     a     cacophonous     hand     slices     through     the     air,     ❛❛     uh-     yeah,     mate.     the     latter.     ❜❜

[munchmemes]

mitski lyrics, The Land Is Inhospitable And So Are We edition

❛ as i got older, i learned i'm a drinker. sometimes a drink feels like family. ❜

❛ did you go and make promises you can't keep? ❜

❛ amateur mistake, you can take it from me. ❜

❛ i try to remember the wrath of the devil was also given to him by god. ❜

❛ i have a hope and though she's blind with no name, she shits where she's supposed to and feeds herself while i'm away. ❜

❛ sometimes i think it would be easier without [them] but i know nothing can hurt me when i see [their] sleeping face. ❜

❛ all of our love is filling all of our room. ❜

❛ now i bend like a willow, thinking of [you/them]. ❜

❛ i sip on the rest of the coffee [you/they] left like it's a kiss left of [you/them]. ❜

❛ something set free is running through the night and the dark awaits us all around the corner. ❜

❛ here in our place we have for the day, can we stay a while and listen for heaven? ❜

❛ i don't like my mind, i don't like being left alone in a room with all its opinions about the things that i've done. ❜

❛ so, yeah, i blast music loud and i work myself to the bone and on an inconvenient christmas, i eat a cake. a whole cake, all for me. ❜

❛ there's another memory that gets stuck inside the walls of my skull waiting for its turn to talk. and it may be a few years but you can bet it's there, waiting still for me to be left alone in a room full of things that i've done. ❜

❛ i want someone to take this soul, i can't bear to keep it. ❜

❛ i'd give it just to give and all i will take are the consequences. ❜

❛ your pain is eased but you'll never be free. ❜

❛ there's a deal that i made. ❜

❛ when memories snow and cover up the driveway, i shovel all those memories and clear the path to drive to the store. ❜

❛ and if i break, could i go on break? ❜

❛ i'll be back in my room, writing speeches in my head. ❜

❛ my love is mine, all mine. ❜

❛ nothing in the world belongs to me but my love is mine, all mine. ❜

❛ nothing in the world is mine for free but my love. ❜

❛ after everyone's long been gone but me, i was hiding or forgotten. the only one left. ❜

❛ now the world is mine alone with no one to share the memory. ❜

❛ you're my best friend. now i've no one to tell how i lost my best friend. ❜

❛ remember when we met, we acted like two fools. we were so glad to have found it. ❜

❛ that love is like a star. it's gone, we just see it shining. it's traveled very far. i'll keep a leftover light burning so you can keep looking up. isn't that worth holding on? ❜

❛ you know i'd always been alone till you taught me to live for somebody. ❜

❛ you believe me like a god. i destroy you like i am. ❜

❛ i'm sorry i'm the one you love. ❜

❛ no one will ever love me like you again. ❜

❛ so, when you leave me, i should die. i deserve it, don't i? ❜

❛ one day, you'll figure me out and i'll meet judgement by the hounds. ❜

❛ people always gave me love. others were never to blame after all. ❜

❛ you believe me like a god. i betray you like a man. ❜

❛ stride through the house naked. don't even care that the curtains are open. ❜

❛ let the darkness see me. ❜

❛ streets are mine, the night is mine. all my own. ❜

❛ oh, how i love me after you. i'm king of all the land. ❜

[punkmacabre]

◟    🪦     ›› YOU'RE A DOG . . . I'M YOUR MAN

john constantine edits 1 / ?

inexplicable     would     be     the     closest     word     to     describe     the     bond     francis     '     chas     '     chandler     and     john     constantine     share.     a     bond     intwined     of     love     and     hate,     taut     by     misplaced     trust     and     utmost     sincerity.     both     survivors     of     childhood     and     what     cruelty     lingered     on     london's     streets;     where     john     goes     chas     follows,     where     chas     departs     john     haunts.     no     matter     how     cold     or     distant,     there's     a     deep,     unspoken     understanding     shared     between     them     that     draws     each     other     back.     a     real,     nasty     addiction     (     the     label     of     enabler     shared     between     them,     like     a     knowing     look one gives another     )     and     yet,     one     can't     help     the     affection     in     the     eyes     and     the     anger     in     the     hands.     the     feeling     is, well,     inexplicable. 

[punkmacabre]

i need everyone to know that john ( while hates how capitalistic and americanised the whole thing has morphed into ) doesn't despises halloween but is certainly working overtime. starting the night with a few possessions, dealing with the odd changling and fae trying to crash some halloween party, then scaring the local trick or treaters away from the haunted house down the street with ghost stories ( some leave frightened, others are kind enough to give john some of their sweets ), trying to get a pint or two down until an inccubi tries to take shots with his own blood, wanders through the city's cemetery redirecting zombies back to their graves instead of trying to eat their loved ones brains, catching a train with ghosts vanishing and appearing while the overhead lights flickers . . . all to find himself in the backrooms of papa midnite's club playing poker amongst an eldritch terror, a cosmic witch, a poltergeist and dracula, turning sweets into chips to throw into the pile.

[punkmacabre]

still working on all my drafts ! but after celebrating my sister's eighteenth and an early halloween party, i need to recover a little 😭 if anyone wants to plot at all feel free to reach out to me here or on discord ( kisscfvenus )

[weltenwellen]

Richard Siken, from "On Perplexity: Chrysanthemum"

[olijacksoncohen]

OLIVER JACKSON-COHEN + The lighter

Luke Crain in The Haunting of Hill House

Peter Quint in The Haunting of Bly Manor

[toxisley-arch]

@punkmacabre sent: ❛ don’t you ever just say hello? ❜

lips curl into a mockery of a warm smile,  fingers trailing along the vines held taught around his body.  ivy gazes upon him with a cold interest,  calculated and detached.  the wilting weeds growing out of the cracks in the pavement sway towards her ankles  ( they whisper in awe:  mother mother mother ).  a dandelion blooms in the moonlight.

“  where’s the fun in that?  ”   the smooth timbre of her voice rolls out into the night air.  a shoeless foot steps onto the fallen cigarette that had landed on the damp ground in his surprise.  there is no pain despite the lit ember at the end of the stick.   “  better to keep you on your toes.  ”

m.

[punkmacabre]

❛❛  𝚒  𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔  𝚢𝚘𝚞  '𝚗'  𝚒  have  different  ideas  of  fun,  love.  ❜❜  seized  with  a  callous  grin,  lingering  dismay  glistens  in  pallid  hues  (  the  feeling  of  a  cigarette  between  fingers,  disappeared.  snapped  the  wrong  twig  and  here  you  are  ⎯  weathered  boots  suspended  in  the  midnight  air.  )  

mother  nature  and  her  reclamation:  vines  serpentine  and  constrict  around  like  an  ophidian  knot.  stay  cool,  stay  cool.  ❛❛  you  remind  me  of  a  friend  of  mine:  big,  green,  less  of  the  feed  me  seymour  diet  but  yanno ⎯  same  withering  sense  of  humour.  ❜❜  trenchant  on  a  fine  line  whether  he  lives  or  not,  (  finer  than  a  dandelion's  root,  or  perhaps  a  weed  in  his  instance  /  nothing  seems  to  live  in  your  grasp.  ) ❛❛ while it's lovely 'n' all being roped up 'ere, i'm needin' a favour. and where's the fun in that, eh ? ❜❜

[punkmacabre]

◟    🪦     𝙳𝙰𝚂𝙷 𝙶𝙰𝙼𝙴𝚂     ››     what's  your  underlying  motif  ?

the coffee tea.

whether     it’s     your     sharp     tongue,     your     tendency     to     blow     hot     or     cold,     or     the     familiarity     of     you,     you’re     the     coffee tea.     don’t     immediately     assume     that     your     undercurrent     means     you’re     bitter,     a     common     misconception,     because     people     who     like     coffee tea     always     make     it     work     for     them.     coffee tea     doesn’t     always     have     to     be     dark,     it     can     be     a     warmth     that’s     comforting     and     the     first     start     to     a     day.     you     aren’t     nearly     as     tough     as     you     make     out     to     be,     but     we’ll     keep     your     secret.     you’re     a     constant,     won’t     ever     go     out     of     style.     not     everyone’s     taste,     but     what     is     these     days?     an     unknown     quote     reads     “    i     like     drinking     coffee tea     alone     and     reading     alone    ...     i     realise     that     even     though     i     like     being     alone,     i     don’t     fancy     being     lonely    ”     remember     you     don’t     always     need     to     face     things     yourself,     there’s     a     reason     people     suggest     “    coffee tea    ?    ”     when     they     want     to     spend     time     together. 

tagged by: no one stole it ! heehee 🖤 tagging: @ofsoul @toxisley @wonedeus @daecaerys @mekhashephah and anyone else who wants to !! the little lit nerd in me is nosy.