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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 !!
#◜ ♱ : [ ᶠⁱᵍ ⁰⁰ ] out of character.#im so sorry to just ghosting to those i owe replies#but i hope you understand and i hope to write with everyone when i come back <3
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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
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BRAM STOKER'S DRACULA
dir. Francis Ford Coppola, 1992
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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
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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.
#◜ ♱ : [ ᶠⁱᵍ ⁰⁰ ] out of character.#◜ ♱ : [ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʰᵒˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵒᵘʳ ʷⁱˢʰᵉˢ ] astra logue.#hate the idea of astra being reduced to an emotional device and nothing more#but it wouldn't be like john would know her so well either-#i think that there can be SO many more parallels drawnn between astra and john and how he sees his “goodness”#(ambiguously- but we're talking pure good of heart samaritan goodness here)#and how what little and the very last of it went to hell with astra#bc it only goes from downhill straight to absolutely fucked babes <3#abuse /#death /
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Oliver Jackson Cohen in a coat is something that can be so personal
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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. )
#◜ ♱ : [ ᶠⁱᵍ ⁰⁰ ] out of character.#◜ ♱ : [ ᶠⁱᵍ ⁰⁵ ] headcanons.#lots of thoughts on the bus ride home <3
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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. ❜❜
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 ? '
#loneheir.#◜ ♱ : [ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ʳᵒᵗᵗᵉⁿ ʷᵒʳᵏ ] main verse.#sorry bats ur dealing with a big fucking nerd 😔😔#but ty for this ur writing is just chef's kiss < 33#so excited for this newest arc fr
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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. ❜
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◟ 🪦 ›› 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.
#◜ ♱ : [ ᶠⁱᵍ ⁰¹ ] reflection.#◜ ♱ : [ ᶠⁱᵍ ⁰⁵ ] headcanons.#this is my one (1) contribution today#the occultist and trusty cab driver makes my brain go brrr#might do a lil series on all the main npcs in john's life 🤔
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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.
#◜ ♱ : [ ᶠⁱᵍ ⁰⁵ ] headcanons.#my one (1) contribution to spooky month <3#he and cheryl never went trick or treating they couldn't really afford nice costumes back in the day#plus their dad wouldn't bother to take them along the streets i'd imagine either#but ??? something bout the whole idea of humanity dressing up as cartoonish costumes of demons and witches and being blissfully unaware#that demons and witches are real ? sort of brings a chuckle to him#laughing in the face of terror that sort of thing#new york and london would be just enough for john to handle each year he'd rather go to hell than deal with gotham on halloween tho xoxo#it'd be so hard to convince him to dress up for halloween fr couldn't EVER convince him to get out of that trenchcoat
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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 )
#◜ ♱ : [ ᶠⁱᵍ ⁰⁰ ] out of character.#i've been drinking for the last two days my liver is COOKED#love u all drink water in my memory 🫶
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Richard Siken, from "On Perplexity: Chrysanthemum"
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OLIVER JACKSON-COHEN + The lighter
Luke Crain in The Haunting of Hill House
Peter Quint in The Haunting of Bly Manor
#◜ ♱ : [ ᶠⁱᵍ ⁰¹ ] reflection.#◜ ♱ : [ ᶠⁱᵍ ⁰³ ] doctrine.#john and his lighter is something so personal to me-#q.
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❛❛ 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 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.
#toxisley.#◜ ♱ : [ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ʳᵒᵗᵗᵉⁿ ʷᵒʳᵏ ] main verse.#i'm so sorry this took so long !!#ivy i'm so sorry that u have to listen to this bastard talk absolute nonsense#q.
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◟ 🪦 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.
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A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984) // dir. Wes Craven
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