#pariah or everything everywhere all at once
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Queer media I like in terms of like representation are deeply nuanced portrayals of identity that don’t sugarcoat anything but also offer hope and joy and love AND the worst people you’ve ever met who are on four levels of sexuality and gender in a way that does not fit into neat boxes doing war crimes to each other
#for examples it’s like#pariah or everything everywhere all at once#vs like#being john malkovich#yes I’m STILL THINKING ABOUT BEING JOHN MALKOVITCH#also like whatever Roman Roy has going on#or tom and Greg#like if you tried to examine any in terms of Representation it won’t work#because they’re not trying to write a story for queer people they’re writing a story about social norms being mapped onto random things#which will necessarily lead to different ways to view sexuality and gender#and the real life different sexualities and gender people will be like WOOHOOO
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Passing Through - Eddie Munson x Reader
Summary: Being the new kid in a small town like Hawkins is tough. One late October day though, you meet Eddie, and he’s always looking out for those lost sheep.
Note: Happy Halloween 🎃
Words: 2.8k
In the great game of life, you have been given a shitty hand of cards to play this round. Starting at a new high school for junior year is an agonizing yet hazy experience. You have to start over in a place where cliques have already formed, and most people have known each other since kindergarten. The best shot you have at making friends is praying there are souls kind enough to include you in their group. Or maybe there are other pariahs you could collect along the way and have your own island of misfit toys.
On the other hand, even if this experience is completely horrible, it’s only a short two years that you have to endure it. It will feel like a lifetime, but maybe you could keep your head down and push through.
School has been in session for about two months now. The leaves are changing to the browns, reds, and yellows that always accompany the smell of fireplaces burning for the first time in months and the sickly sweet scent of apple and pumpkin permeating everything.
Late October is always a nice chance to wear comfy sweaters and cute scarves, bundling up as you take in the views of this time of year. Jack-o-lanterns litter the sidewalks, a few even placed around the high school campus. Children laughing and jumping in any pile of leaves that would permit them to make a mess. The outside aesthetic clashes with the churning, icy storm inside of you.
There are a few people you’ve met that you’d consider friends, yet not anyone you feel you can confide in about how alien you feel around the other teens of this small town.
Of course, there are mean girls everywhere and they never miss a chance to pounce on fresh meat. You’ve lost count of the things you heard said about you, but some of them even made you laugh. You wish you were cool enough to be here because your family is on the run. At least it would be something exciting. It’s also better than the other rumor that you taxidermy animals in your basement and now you’re looking for people to practice on. Someone obviously watched Psycho the night before they came up with that one.
Once in a while you’ve tried to sit with some of the friends you made at lunch, but you always felt out of place. You decided to start exploring the school during your lunch period instead. Sometimes you’d have your sandwich on the bleachers in the gym or have your cup of noodles under the large oak tree next to the science building.
Today, there’s a gentle breeze and, bundled up in your soft brown sweater, you decide to perch yourself on the short wall in front of the school. You settle yourself on the sun-faded bricks and open your lunch on your lap. Students go by, some of them in a hurry, some of them looking like they’d rather be anywhere else. It’s nice to people watch; sometimes it makes you feel less alone. You take a bite out of your peanut butter sandwich and let your eyes slip closed. The wind ruffles your sweater and brings a smile to your face as it kisses your skin. When you open your eyes, you’re greeted by a scene of two basketball players seeing who can burp the loudest.
With a sigh you take another bite of your sandwich. Is there anyone at this school that will just get you?
As the thought crosses your mind, you feel a heavy weight plop down next to you on the wall. You turn your head and see the cutest guy you’ve seen yet in Hawkins. His curly hair is frizzy, but in the most endearing of ways. The brown of his eyes perfectly matches the atmosphere of autumn around you. But it’s his smile that has your heart racing. It’s big, bright, and most important of all, it’s genuine.
“Ah, I can spy a fellow Hawkins outcast when I see one.”
Warmth burns your cheeks simply by making eye contact and having this man speak to you. The air around you might be getting cooler, but your body is heating up. It makes sense; he’s really cute.
“Uh, yeah, I guess that’s me.”
“New kid?” He leans back and narrows his eyes slightly, as if he’s appraising you, but in a joking manner.
“As I’ll probably be referred to until I graduate, yes,” you admit with a breathy chuckle. He laughs in return, and it sounds like music, the melody of it being swept away by the breeze.
“I was known as the ‘freak’ to most people. You’d think ‘Eddie’ was merely a suggestion of what to call me, not my actual goddamn name,” he says with an overdramatic shrug of his shoulders. “Didn’t really bother me after a while.”
“I wish I didn’t let things get to me as much as they do,” you admit. Why? You’re not sure. Maybe because this is the first person in Hawkins that seems to be interested in what you have to say. Eddie smiles and shakes his head, eyes turning down to gaze at his lap.
“The assholes aren’t worth it.” Eddie waves a dismissive hand in the air, multiple chunky rings glinting in the afternoon sunlight. “But trust me, you find the right friends, and everything will be smooth sailing. They’ll have your back, and you’ll have theirs—none of the other shit matters.”
“You’re pretty wise, Eddie.”
“Don’t know if I’ve ever been called that before,” he tells you through a guffaw of laughter.
“Well, it’s fitting,” you say.
“Eddie the Wise,” he tries out the name, but wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. “Nah, doesn’t work.”
“I like your pick necklace,” you say, just trying to keep talking and have Eddie here for as long as you can.
“Huh?” He looks down at it. “Oh, thanks. You like music? Good music, I should say. Because I’ve got the all-time best band right here.”
Eddie shrugs off his denim vest layered over a leather jacket, your eyes trailing every movement his body makes. Bare, pale arms come into view once he’s finally rid himself of the article of clothing. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the dark ink that contrasts against his alabaster skin. A small colony of bats taking flight.
“Ta-da,” Eddie says, presenting his Metallica t-shirt to you and bringing you back to reality.
“Not bad, not bad,” you acquiesce, once you’ve refocused.
Eddie just grins and puts his layers of clothing back on.
A couple of cheerleaders walk by and look you up and down, trying to be as obvious as possible about it. Because they know it will get even more under your skin, they lower their heads and start whispering together.
Eddie gives them a saccharine smile and flips them off as they go by. It makes you giggle, and it brings you satisfaction that those girls didn’t rob you of your happy afternoon.
“Take it from me,” Eddie says with a sigh. “You’re gonna be just fine here in Hawkins. This school is a shit show, but it has its bright spots. Friends mostly. Clubs—you should look into those for sure. Some teachers aren’t half bad either. Take Mr. H. He’s a bit of a smartass, but he’s a good guy.”
“Yeah, I have him for physics and he’s great.”
The corners of Eddie’s mouth quirk up in a smirk and he pushes himself off the wall.
“Well, as much as I’d love to stay and chat with you—and seriously, I really wish I could—I’m not even supposed to be here right now.”
“Oh, you don’t have this lunch period?” you ask.
“Nah,” Eddie says as he slides his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. “I’m supposed to be somewhere, doing something, I don’t know.” Eddie’s lackadaisical nature makes you giggle. “But I saw a pretty girl sitting here all by herself and I took a detour.”
His words make you feel flushed and flustered, unable to come up with anything to say in response. Eddie goes to walk away but turns back and gives you a smile; almost as bright as the very first one he gave you.
“Everything’s gonna be alright. This is your year. I can feel it.” He offers you a quick wink then he’s on his way.
The bell rings, breaking you out of your daze watching Eddie walk away. You hasten to clean up from your lunch so you can make it on time to your French class on the other side of campus.
When you’ve got everything situated and ready to get to class, you look around but there’s no sign of Eddie. No curly hair, no dark delicious eyes, nothing.
In class, it’s a fight not to tap your pencil against your desk incessantly. You’re itching to ask someone, anyone, if they know Eddie and where you can find him. At this moment more than ever you wish you’d made better friends here already.
Screw it, you think as the bell rings to signal the end of the class. I’ve got to ask about him.
“Mrs. Daaé?”
Your petite French teacher gives you a kind smile. “Yes, dear?”
“Do you know a student named Eddie?” You feel so stupid asking this; asking a teacher if she knows anything about the cute boy who came and talked to you.
Mrs. Daaé thinks for a moment, her long mauve fingernails tapping against the top of her desk.
“I don’t believe I do,” she says with a sympathetic smile. When you’re the new kid you get used to people giving you that look very quickly.
“That’s okay,” you say, eager to be out of there. “Thank you anyway.”
It’s the same answer from everyone you talk to. The few friends you’ve made, people who sit near you in class, even your teachers. No one seems to know who this guy is or have any idea what you’re talking about.
By the time you get to your last class of the day, you’re half convinced that you’re crazy. Gone mad, absolutely bonkers.
Physics isn’t your favorite class, but it does have your favorite teacher, so that’s something.
You pay enough attention to get by, but your mind constantly wanders back to the only person to make you feel welcome in this town.
The sound of your name jars you out of your thoughts. You look up and realize the last students from your class are walking out the door. Now that you think about it, you did hear the final bell ring, it just didn’t register.
“Sorry,” you say, but you’re not sure who to. Your teacher who snapped you out of your daze? The students you’ve been bombarding with questions today?
Maybe you should ask this teacher. It’s the last one of the day, you might as well. But you also don’t want to look like an idiot again.
“Something I can help you with?” The soft voice and kind smile shake you out of your thoughts. You’re the only student left in the room.
“Oh, no, I’m sorry,” you repeat the apology. As you step out the door, you change your mind, remembering Eddie referenced “Mr. H.” Taking a deep breath, you turn around and walk back into the classroom. “A-Actually… Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“I talked with this guy today, outside while I was eating my lunch. He was really nice—nicer than any of the other kids have been since I came here, honestly. But when I’ve asked around about him, no one knows who he is. He seemed to know you, though.”
Your teacher’s eyebrows furrow together, and he sits down in his chair behind the desk. “What’s his name?”
“Eddie.”
He shakes his head as he thinks. “I don’t know if we even have an Eddie in this school. We’ve got Ed Sweeney, the football coach. But I doubt it was him.”
“No,” you say with a disappointed, but not surprised, sigh. It’s the same answer you’ve been getting all day. “This was definitely a student. Curly hair down to his shoulders. Big, infectious smile, a dark red pick on a chain around his neck…”
Your teacher’s eyes widen exponentially, and you must give him an odd look without realizing it because he quickly composes himself and clears his throat.
“Did he, um, have any tattoos?” the teacher asks.
“Yeah!” You get excited, this being the first real hint of someone knowing what you’re talking about. “He had a bunch of bats—”
“On his right forearm?”
“Yes! That’s him!”
Your teacher slumps back in his seat and rubs his hand over his eyebrows.
“Holy shit,” he mutters under his breath. You’re surprised to hear that kind of talk from a teacher; you’re not even sure if you were meant to hear it or not.
“Is everything okay?” you ask timidly.
A grin from ear to ear looks back up at you and your teacher leans forward on his desk, resting on his elbows.
“You talked to him today?”
“Yes. I don’t understand, what’s–”
Before you can finish your question, he’s shuffling in his pocket and pulling out his phone. Frantically, he starts to look for something on it, obviously searching for something he deems as important as his fingers tap against the screen. Evidently, he finds what he’s looking for because his search comes to an end, and he takes a deep breath. The phone clacks down gently onto the wood of the desk and he slides it in your direction.
“Was this him?”
You take a few steps closer to the desk and peer down at the screen. Looking back at you is Eddie, tongue sticking out and hand held up in devil’s horns, standing beside your teacher–only much, much younger.
“W-What is this?”
“Is this him?” His voice is firm, but not aggressive.
“Yes, but I’m confused.” If you thought your brain was already jumbled up from no one knowing who you were talking about today, now it feels like it was put in a blender and puréed.
“This is unbelievable,” your teacher mumbles, a smile starting to appear on his face once again. “Still taking care of lost sheep, huh?” The question is obviously not directed at you.
Confusion is starting to turn to irritation, and it isn’t like your favorite teacher to not answer your questions. He’s always willing to explain things as many times as needed in class.
“Mr. Henderson, what’s going on?”
The initial response is a chuckle and shake of his head, clearly amused by something.
“Eddie Munson. He, uh, used to go here.”
“Did he graduate?” You try to hide the pang of disappointment in your voice that he isn’t a fellow student anymore.
The smile on Mr. Henderson’s face turns melancholic.
“Yeah. Yeah, he graduated.” Your teacher is clearly lost in a memory, and you can’t tell by his expression if it’s a happy one or a sad one.
Now you can’t help but feel a little petty and whiney about the one person who seemed to understand you not being around. In spite of yourself, you frown and cross your arms over your chest.
“Why was he here?” you can’t help but ask, poking the bruise.
Mr. Henderson seems stumped by this question at first. He thinks for a silent moment, then his eyes spark as if something just came to him.
“Probably here to give me a message.” He doesn’t elaborate on that before looking back up at you. “Eddie doesn’t…live around here anymore. He was probably just passing through.”
“Somehow he could tell I was the new kid,” you say with a slightly embarrassed shrug—as if being the new kid is something people can smell on you.
“Yeah, Eddie always had a knack for finding new kids. Even kids who’ve been here for years but didn’t have many friends.”
“He definitely came to the right person then,” you admit sadly. In front of anyone else you would feel stupid speaking these thoughts out loud, but Mr. Henderson has seemed like a safe place ever since you arrived at Hawkins High.
The man tilts his head and gives you a look of understanding—but not sympathy, like everyone else.
“Making friends can be hard. I was lucky I had friends coming into this school with me. Even so, I’m glad that Ed—uh, this upperclassman took me under his wing. Made a world of difference. Joined a club and made tons of new friends.”
The words spark a memory from your earlier conversation.
“Eddie mentioned that, actually. That I should join a club or something.”
Mr. Henderson chuckles softly to himself and mumbles of course he did under his breath. You’re not sure what’s so funny but it seems impolite to ask.
“I think that’s a great idea,” he says. He stands up from his chair and narrows his eyes. “I think I have a pretty good recommendation, too. Tell me, do you know anything about Dungeons and Dragons?”
#Eddie Munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fan fiction#eddie munson fic
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Slip and Fall (dp x dc)
It had started when he’d moved to Gotham and, maybe more importantly, when he’d moved out of Amity. The ghost attacks had finally started to calm down thanks to the systemic overhaul the Ghost Zone had experienced after Pariah Dark had been imprisoned for the second time. With a better structure, they had actually started to be able to wrangle their own criminals instead of leaving it to a half-dead (and very tired) teen.
While that had been a big relief on the ghost side of things, the human side of thing had also gone through a major upheaval. His parents actually not shooting at a ghost envoy long enough to actually hear them out had been a minor miracle. Them actually believing said envoy had felt like a straight-up dream. To go from ghost hunter to ghost right defender was a big change, but Fentons didn’t do things halfway. Except Danny of course, but that couldn’t be helped.
With Amity being able to stand on its own without needing Phantom around, Danny had finally been able to focus on school and just being normal for once, and so he had. The last three years had been wonderful. He’d worked his ass off to get his grades back up and he’d even had time to actually made friends with some of the A-listers. Sam and Tucker had likewise been able to enjoy the full teenager experience and had also been glad to get a bit of normalcy back.
By the time graduation rolled around, they’d all applied and gotten accepted into different universities. They’d planned to go to the same close-by college but Jazz had disagreed. Their fields of studies were different and she’d said they owed it to themselves to find the best program for each. Which was why Danny had found himself in Gotham, in a student apartment not too far from campus with a job at the nearest coffee shop. The first month there had been exciting and full of new things. Gotham was a big city, much different from the comparatively smaller Amity and there were novel sights and stuff everywhere. His classes had been interesting and he’d met a ton of new people.
The second month had rolled by and as the elation had settled, Danny had started feeling a bit lonely. He’d reasoned that it was because he couldn’t see his friends as often and had doubled the phone-calls back home. He’d thought it was just a bit of home-sickness and that’d it go away soon.
But then, things didn’t get better. Instead, Danny felt himself growing distant from everything around him. He still talked to people in his classes, he still video-called his sister and friends every week but he felt removed from it all. Like he was a passerby, observing everyone else go through their lives. It was like he was floating away, farther and farther from his life. It was disconcerting, but Danny felt too detached to care about it very much.
After another unremarkable shift at the coffee shop, Danny had stumbled into his apartment and absent-mindedly prepared his supper. As he was picking at the mashed potatoes, a strange feeling started in his chest. He frowned as he rubbed at it, only for it to grow into an intense cold feeling that spread through his extremities. Danny struggled to get up to walk towards the phone as his body froze over. He didn’t make it before the numbing feeling completely took over and his mind slowed accordingly before he closed his eyes and lost himself to peaceful nothingness.
Danny’s consciousness returned slowly to him. He could vaguely hear hushed voices but as he tried to open his eyes, it was to find it impossible, his body unwieldy. Before he lost consciousness again, Danny managed to catch a few words which sounded like “help” and “inside”.
The second time he woke up, his mind felt much clearer and though sitting up took considerably more effort than he would’ve expected, he still managed to do so and take stock of where he’d ended up. It was a big room with big and curtained glass windows that let in sunlight that illuminated the dedicatedly carved wood furniture. The bed itself was queen-sized with high-quality linen and luxuriously plump pillows. Danny’s eyes turned to the window and the small corner of green lawn he could see from his vantage point. Before he could attempt to get closer, the door to his room opened and a man walked in.
“Oh, you’re awake!” exclaimed the man as he got closer to Danny’s bedside. “We were worried after finding you passed out last night but it’s good to see you back with us.”
Danny tried to talk only to find himself unable to get anything but a croak to come out. Embarrassment had his cheeks warming, but the man’s eyes were kind as he handed Danny a glass of water he hadn’t noticed on the nightstand. The water felt good for his parched throat and he tried again.
“Where am I?” Danny rasped.
“This is Wayne Manor,” the man said. “My wife and I found you yesterday. What’s your name?”
#The time-medallion makes Danny slippy time-wise#Martha Wayne#thomas wayne#dc x dp#dp x dc#roxpox#roxpoxwrote
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Lore i
(for How I DIDN’T Become a Villain)
Note: This is based on fanon that is used and accepted by most of the phandom, with the addition of my own ideas on how the supernatural aspect of the DP universe came to be. I.e, the Ghost Zone/Infinite Realms, the title of Ghost King, the origin of Pariah Dark, and much more.
• The Infinite Realms •
The Universe once began. We know how that story goes. The Big Bang, nebulas and planets and stars and light forming everywhere all at once. But there was something else. The Universe was alive, and everything living has something that gives it life. A mind, an engine, a (sub)conscious.
In this, the Universe had a void. An apparent one, at least. This void didn’t have tangible matter the way the Universe did, but it did have something. This void was nearly overflowing with it. Life Energy. It was no void at all, but a Source for all living beings in the Universe. In all Universes.
It had a different name, at first, but once Belief Systems started making their home in its center, thousands upon millions of them, it became the Infinite Realms. A kaleidoscope of energy, of life and death and everything in between. It is that which holds infinite ideas and infinite consciousnesses and infinite concepts and infinite infinities. It is that which holds everything together.
Something this large and this primordial to creation needed something else to take care of it.
• The Linkeepers •
That which is now known as the High King of the Infinite Realms has a true name: Linkeeper. Like all things, there is an origin. The First Linkeeper. They were born of the connection between the Universe and the Source, with the inherent purpose to look after their parents and to assure that neither took or gave too much of the other. They embodied the careful balance between Matter and Energy. That which lived and that which was Life.
The role of Linkeeper changed, the tiniest bit, with each chosen inheritor. However, it was when it landed in Pariah Dark’s greedy, bloody hands that the role was betrayed, cracked to its foundation. No longer signifying balance and caregiver and protecter, the Ghost King took the helm and brought on a role of control, power, and conquest. The balance was thrown off its axis, and war prevailed.
Linkeeper was lost to the dredges of unspoken stories (as there was no one to hear them anymore), and all that could be done to try and retain it was to lock Pariah Dark away and wait. To wait for a chosen inheritor to bring back the balance that had been so carelessly disregarded for nearly three thousand years.
P.S,
this is a shallow, tried-to-keep-it-short explanation of the lore that WILL make an appearance in the fic. I avoided going into certain details of the Linkeeper (like the inheritors/predecessors, their names, and their stories) because i’m reserving that for the fic.
There will be around two more Lore-dumps, and after that maybe a sneak peek at the first chapter (if i have it nice and tidy by then). The actual, full chapters will take me a WHILE to upload (to my ao3 account), because i want to at least have five to seven chapters fully written out before i start posting. That said, hope you like what I have so far!
#danny phantom#dpxdc#How I DIDN’T Become a Villain#HIDBV#lore dump#Lore i#i have many ideas you see#i held myself back from dumping too much because i didn’t want to give too much away#gotta keep my secrets close for plot reasons#i have a very clear and vague idea on the infinimap for this particular fic cuz it’s lowkey part of the lore for the infinite realms but#i’ve been avoiding writing it down cuz i have no idea how to put it into words djdj#anyways here’s to future lore dumps :)
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The Semi-Soulmate AU That Nobody Asked For
Something nobody ever told Danny was that, well. He was the king.
Everyone assumed that someone else had told him, and honestly, he was doing an alright job at the whole thing, so...
He had to know, right?
No.
No he did not.
Of course he didn't know! How could he have?
His first hint was when he woke up at the stroke of midnight on his twentieth birthday, falling apart.
He panicked, because of course he did. Panicking when you were dissolving into aether was something any sane person would do! But it didn't last, because then he was gone and there was only The Realms.
And it was beautiful.
You see, there are rules, and then there are rules.
And one of the rules was this: No King of the Realms can rule without knowing what, exactly, it is that they rule.
And so, typically, (typically, she says, when there's only been two Kings, and Pariah was anything but typical.) the newly crowned King would go on a tour of the realm. They would meet their subjects, and explore the far reaches, and, although it would take a while (ages, millennia, eons,) they would eventually return with at least partial knowledge of their domain.
Danny had done none of that.
Danny hadn't known, because no one had told him.
The Realms had waited. Patiently at first, and with slowly growing impatience.
One year.
Three.
Five years, and the new King gave no indication that he was even thinking about touring the Realms.
So the Realms took matters into its own hands.
And stole the king away.
He was everything. Everywhere. Everywhen, all at once. Forever and Always, all at once.
He could see everything.
Feel his subjects, going about their 'lives'. 'Living', and loving, and 'dying', and being reborn elsewhere in a cycle that took him eons (the blink of an eye, the beat of a heart) to comprehend.
Someone screaming caught his attention, such as it was.
One of his subject being dragged unwillingly into one of the 'living' worlds.
This wasn't too uncommon. It happened often enough, with the advances that the 'living' had made in medical technologies. But this one was different.
The portal was different.
Putrid and sickening, it was a blemish on Danny's The Realms' self.
He couldn't interfere. He tried. He tried to close the portal, to block it, to cut the summoning, but nothing worked.
Fate had her hand in this, and The Realms hated her.
He couldn't help. So he reached out, and embraced the subject, instead.
And for a moment, (an eternity of eternities), they were one.
Mixing, blending, learning, mourning,
and then the portal surged, and the other was gone.
And The Realms Danny mourned.
The Realms spat him back out onto his bed.
The room was still dark.
The clock read fifteen minutes after midnight.
His phone told him it was his twentieth birthday.
But he felt so, unbearably old.
#writing#my writing#dpxdc#anyway#When the pits spit Jason out he's still feral and angry#but not because of the pit.#Because he had someone who cared dammit#someone who'd seen every single part of himself just as he'd seen them#and who had#for the briefest eternity#LOVED him#He's furious with Talia for ripping that away from him#Furious with himself for wanting it#but he trains#and learns and things go roughly the same#he goes back to Gotham. Decides that the Replacement still needs to die#And the trip across the country takes him through a city in Illinois.#Where he meets a familiar-unfamiliar-too-too-TOO familiar teacher
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The Devil's Bow
Aether Ghoul x Fem!Reader
(disclaimer: photo found on pinterest ^ )
A/N: I love aether so much it's not even funny, I miss him so fucking bad. I couldn't get his dumb beefcake ass out of my head so this is the unhinged result... I blame my hormones making me insanely feral
warnings: pwp, monsterfucking, explicit sexual content, unprotected piv, loss of virginity, breeding kink, blood drinking, biting, praise kink, slight degradation, pet names, orgasm delay/ denial, religious imagery & symbolism
word count: 8,675
{AO3 Link}
summary: Feeling rebellious and stupid, you decide that playing around with ritual incantations is a good way to vent your frustrations with your life. The only problem is that you don't read or speak Latin, and don't really believe anything will happen when you follow the directions and speak the words. You summon the wrong type of demon, but he isn't opposed to fulfilling the ritual request.
***
Some people start drinking or smoking to rebel against their overly-religious parents, but all you've done so far is fail to uphold any sort of belief in their faith— the one they forced upon you all throughout your tumultuous childhood, spent suffering in Catholic school. You're the disappointment of the family, talked about like a pariah and treated even more poorly. You try not to let it bother you, but the bitterness and rejection takes a form like a dark shadow, always lingering just over your shoulder, following you everywhere throughout life. It influences your stupid decisions, and most certainly fueled this particular one.
When you went searching for spells and rituals, you didn't think you'd find one that actually works. You didn't think you'd find any that work, actually. It's hard not to grow jaded and skeptical of everything even remotely religious with zealot parents like your own. Sure you'd been a little nervous going into it, following the outlined directions to create the summoning circle—even more nervous as you stumbled through the Latin incantation—but still, you'd never once assumed anything would actually happen. You can't understand Latin, so honestly you have no fucking idea what you just said, or what you just summoned. A vacuous pit forms in your stomach like a black hole, spiking your bloodstream with mass amounts of adrenaline and fear.
Your knees ache where you kneel on the wooden floor, staring up at the form of a figure taking shape in the center of the summoning circle. It's a human shape, but you're not stupid enough to convince yourself that it's human. The strange cloud is backlit only by numerous flickering candles and the occasional bolt of lightning outside the thinly curtained bay windows. Rain patters an ominous drum beat against the windows, creating an ambiance suited to your growing terror at the moment.
"Oh, God," you cry out. If there is a god, they're surely not looking out for you, of all people, in this instance.
You scramble to your feet, legs shaking so hard that you can barely keep yourself upright. Your trembling hands fist your long nightgown with enough force to turn your knuckles white. The sickening scent of ozone and blood permeates the air as the creature continues to materialize; the silver cloud that surrounds the shadowy silhouette begins to crystallize into a tangible form. A tangible, and decidedly nude form. The body is humanoid, build of a tall and thick-set man, though his skin is a startling shade of slate grey. Beefy arms and thighs look like they can crush you without second thought, and his thick abdomen is like a sturdy tree trunk. Large and evidently clawed hands are folded rather daintily over the man-creature's groin, covering what you can only assume to be his similarly endowed manhood. The silver cloud coalesces with finality into a chrome helmet concealing his head; it looks like a devil face, with a pointed chin—reminiscent of the classic depiction of satan with a van dyke beard—and a smooth lack of a mouth. Though the head is tilted back, you can still make out how the helm even has two little horns and sculpted hair. It completely obscures whatever sort of face this beast may possess, and that feels more frightening than potentially seeing its true face.
The masked head snaps to attention from its lax tilt, immediately focusing on you. You've managed to put a considerable amount of distance between yourself and the summoning circle, but it feels all for naught under the intensity of the man-creature's stare. Hauntingly pale and slit-pupil eyes stare out at you through the almond-shaped eye holes of the chrome mask. A strangled gasp slips from your throat and you attempt to stumble backwards another shaking step.
The demon—for now you're sure that's what it is—breaks his gaze from you and casts those haunting eyes to the floor, curiously examining the summoning circle arranged around his bare feet. The peculiar tilt of his head strikes you as a look of confusion, for whatever reason. You watch in rapt awe and horror as he breaks his stiff posture to slowly sink to one knee, unfurling his folded hands to gingerly trace along the chalk drawing on the floor.
"The sigil is correct, you must have spoken the incantation incorrectly." The demon's voice is deep and silky, yet nearly two-toned as it reaches your ears, like two voices speaking at once— simultaneously a full-toned bass and a feathery whisper. It feels like all other noise in the room is sucked out in a vacuum the moment he speaks. "Or else I wouldn't be here."
Thundering heart in your throat, you realize the demon is saying you performed the ritual incorrectly and wouldn't have summoned him otherwise. You're unsure if he means you wouldn't have summoned anything at all, or if you wouldn't have summoned him in particular. You don't know if this is good news either, and aren't really excited to find out. The enormous figure slowly rises to his feet, and for the first time you see a spaded tail flicking back and forth behind him. The tail is thick at the base and prehensile, sturdy like a lash.
"I— Oh my God," you whisper. Your trembling fingers come up to cover your treacherous mouth. "I didn't think it would work."
The laugh that peals from beneath the mouthless mask shakes you down to your very bones. You whimper when the man-creature takes a step over the scribbled line chalk. The wood floor creaks under his weight even as he places his clawed feet down with deliberately controlled steps. The demon stalks towards you across the room, shortening the distance between you with each lengthy stride.
"Oh, little lamb," he purrs, voice like honey and thorns, "God has nothing to do with this. You've summoned me, now I've come to do what has been requested of me."
A pathetic little sob works its way up out of your throat and you can't choke it down before it slips past your lips. Nor can you control the fearful tears that spring forth from your eyes, spilling down your cheeks in hot trails. Your back bumps against the far wall and your hands scrabble against it for any sort of purchase.
"Ohhh, what did I do," you wail, pressing yourself as far away from the approaching beast as you can possibly manage. "Please don't kill me! Please, I didn't know! I didn't know what it said!"
You know if this demon is truly intent on devouring you or, dragging your soul to Hell, or torturing you for all eternity, no amount of pleading can save you. Yet, your human nature forces the words out of your mouth regardless of whether they'll work or not.
Through a blur of tears and squinted lids, you watch as the demon reaches up and hooks its thick fingers under the lip of its helmet. Your eyes avoid his face, instead watching the metal helm as it's brought down to his side, then dropped with a weighty thud to the floor. The helmet is so heavy it doesn't even rock upon impact, just drops straight down like a sack of boulders. You squeeze your eyes shut then, turning your face to the side to avoid laying eyes on the demon as he looms over you. You feel his shadow draped over you like a cold blanket, smothering you in impossible darkness. This close, you can feel the blistering heat of his body through your thin nightgown; the scent of Frankincense and coriander fills your nostrils. You wonder if this is a comforting ruse to draw you in, the way a predator deceives and lures its prey.
"You don't know what what said, lamb?" His hot breath wafts across your cheek, raising goosebumps on your skin.
"T-The incantation," you gasp out. You feel the figure draw up and back at that, almost as if he's backed away slightly.
"You don't understand Latin?"
His two-tone voice takes on a bit of an edge. You clamp your eyes shut even tighter, seeing stars dance beneath your lids, and fervently shake your head no in response.
"I'm not going to kill you." His voice is shockingly gentle now, face closer to yours again. Warm, clawed digits find their way to your jaw, gently maneuvering your head to face forward. You don't resist the demon's ministrations, allowing him to tilt your face up towards his. You continue you squeeze your eyes shut, however, unable to will yourself to look upon his face. "Look at me, pretty girl."
He gives your head a little bit of a shake and a tiny huff of breath slips through your parted lips. You hesitantly peel your eyes open. First, you only see a strong chin and thin grey lips, curled upward at one corner. Then, a small pointed nose is revealed, studded with a thick gunmetal ring through the left nostril. Then those eyes meet yours once more, large and all-encompassing— chilling to behold. Full, heavy eyebrows arch over those pale eyes, and small horns crest a high forehead. Heavily pierced and decidedly pointed ears jut out from either side of his closely shaven head, and either side of his face is bracketed by mutton chop sideburns. The face of the demon would actually be rather charming if you weren't afraid for your life and soul right now.
"There you are."
You hold your breath in your lungs like a bomb will go off if you exhale. The fingers on your jaw draw you closer, and the demon makes a show to brush his nose and lips against yours, just barely light enough to feel. He breathes into your slightly open mouth and you inhale the bittersweet air with little resistance.
"You called upon an incubus, which I am not. But I am not opposed to fulfilling your request." Those eyes hold yours as he speaks into your mouth. "Do you even know what you requested, silly little girl?"
His airy tone isn't remotely malicious, which incites both relief and an entirely new form of worry. You timidly shake your head again without breaking his entrancing eye contact, the tip of your nose swiping lightly against his. A broad, amused smile spreads across his face, revealing innumerable fangs and bluish black gums. You swallow thickly, eyes darting between his pale reptilian eyes and the grinning maw of knife-like teeth.
"Sweet thing, you should get in the habit of doing more research," he chuckles, dipping his head low to brush your nose with his again. The way his heavily lidded eyes begin to roam your face and neck is almost... sultry...? That hand at your jaw shifts, a clawed thumb tracing the seam of your soft lips. "Silly little human girls like you perform rituals like that to summon a demon to fulfill your needs..."
He seems entirely too smug as he says that, almost like he's playing it up just to fluster you. He succeeds, as heat immediately floods your cheeks and pools unbidden between your thighs. You squirm at the sudden unfurling of arousal in your core, blossoming like a sinful flower. You suck in a breath and the demon takes the opportunity to slip his thumb between your lips. The taste of his skin is sharp and bitter in the way bonfire smoke is, his claw probing against your tongue. Your heart pounds in the confines of your chest, though not necessarily out of fear anymore. Nostrils flared and eyes wide, you pant against his hand, wrapping your lips around his thick knuckle.
"An incubus might ask for something in return, but seeing how you summoned me instead, by mistake... Well, I pride myself on being generous. I'll give you a free pass this time, if only to feel you on the inside."
He removes his thumb from your mouth only to press his lips to yours in a light, decidedly chaste kiss. You hum against his grey lips, finding yourself rising on your toes to meet him when he retreats.
"What do you say, lamb? What do you say to the offer of indescribable pleasure?"
Your knees nearly buckle beneath you at his words. Performing a dumb ritual is one thing, but fucking a demon is a whole other level of rebellion. You hadn't known that's what the ritual was for, but you're not entirely apt to complain about it now. The more you look at him, the more attractive the demon gets, and you can't deny how interested you are; he's a strapping specimen of a man, human or not, and you aren't blind to the bestial sexuality he exudes. The thrill of disobedience and the dark unknown sears through your veins and mixes with adrenaline and arousal to create an intoxicating cocktail of recklessness. With a pathetic whining breath you raise your hands and paw experimentally at the demon's broad chest. Your fingertips dance through the thick hair across his steadily rising and falling chest, testing boundaries by curiously tugging at it.
The demon growls, the noise rumbling beneath your hands like an earthquake. His horned head darts down and in an instant he is nosing your throat, roughly enough to bump the back of your head against the paneled wall. The metal ring in his nostril is cold against your heated skin and your pulse pounds against his lips. You're already breathless and titillated when he raises his mouth to your ear, whispering so sinfully and so intimately.
"It too will be my pleasure in corrupting a pure, innocent virgin like yourself," he growls into your ear.
A thrill drags its cold fingers up your spine and you involuntarily arch up into his front. He laughs, slipping a hand to the small of your back to press you closer. Your bare bodies are separated only by your gauzy nightgown. You can feel his arousal pressed into your stomach, thick and hard and throbbing against you. You'd been so focused on his handsome face that you'd failed to notice his erection and now you're too intimidated to chance a glance at it sandwiched between your bodies.
"H-How do you know that I— That I'm—"
Instead of answering, the demon claims your mouth, kissing you deeply, savagely. His lips slot against your own with a perfect bruising force. You gasp at being caught off guard and feel a long tongue slip between your lips. He licks into your mouth, tasting your teeth and tongue like he's partaking in the most delicious forbidden fruit. His tongue is sweet and somewhat cloying as you suck lightly on it, panting through your nose as he crushes his face against yours. Hands grope at your hips and ass, bunching up the back of your nightgown and gently raking the skin beneath with the tips of his claws. You break away to heave for breath and some semblance of stability. Your fingers flex against his collarbone and slip up to his thick neck, tracing up the twin columns of muscle and tendon.
The half-lifted hem of your nightgown rustles around your calves, then you feel something begin to snake up the length of your leg; it takes a moment to realize that it's his prehensile tail. A shiver of delight and perturbation racks your frame when the spaded tip slips around the back of your leg and caresses the tender skin of your inner thigh, just below where you ache for him. Your fingers scratch the base of his neck, unable to find an anchor point on his shaven scalp. You're so sensitive under his touch, feeling stimulated in ways you've never experienced— and he's barely even done anything yet.
Just when you think he's going to touch you where you need him to, the tail slips away from beneath your smock and his hands retreat from your rear. Your eyes go wide and desperate, your hands petting the back of his fuzzy head as if you can coax him back into touching you.
"You're so trusting," he purrs. Again, there's no malice in his wispy baritone, but you get the distinct impression he's gently scolding you.
Without warning, your body is pushed back against the wall completely— yet, the demon still isn't touching you. The force holding you still is as strong as gravity, akin only to the centrifugal force of those flying saucer amusement park rides. Your breathing quickens anxiously, staring silently up at the pale eyes of the demon for any explanation. He doesn't do anything other than hold your gaze though, even as your feet lose connection with the floor and your head nears the crown molding.
Your poor heart thunders in your throat, making it hard to breathe properly as you find yourself suspended flat against the ceiling. Clenched eyes avoid looking down upon the candlelit room— upon the summoning circle you were stupid enough to throw together. Gravity pulls against you as if you're lying on the floor rather than the ceiling, which is more disorienting than it is frightening once you acclimate to it. Your nightgown and hair lay flat against the plaster in a way that doesn't make sense to your discombobulated brain. It's realistically only a few moments before you find the courage to peek your eyes open, but to you it feels like time has elongated exponentially. The demon stands amused beneath you, head tilted back and hands on his sturdy hips like a suburban dad surveying a particularly interesting weather occurrence overhead. He still sports a raging erection, which paired with the stance and scenario would be a little funny if not for your concentration on not getting dizzy.
"L-Let me down," you whisper, eyes squeezing shut again as you battle down nausea.
"Only if you ask nicely, pretty girl," the demon shoots back. You can hear the grin in his voice, taunting you.
"P-Please, please. You're right, I'm too trusting. Please let me down now."
All at once the gravity that had been suspending you to the ceiling releases and you're falling and falling and... the demon catches you and cradles you against his chest with thick arms slung under your back and legs. You breathe heavily and clutch the nightgown over your palpitating heart, eyes popping open to fix him with a startled look. Perhaps you are too trusting, but it's clear the man-creature has had everything under his careful control from the very start of this interaction. Your eyes wandering down to his mouth is enough to lure him into another passionate kiss.
You're remotely aware of the bulky man kneeling as he continues kissing you. Then, you're laid down on the floor with a shockingly tender amount of care, like one would lay down a doll or a baby. His powerful hands find your bent knees and begin to slide up the length of your thighs, fingers splayed to span the flesh. The slow motion gradually rucks up your nightgown, revealing inch by inch of the vulnerable skin of your lightly trembling legs. He kisses you to distract you, but you clench your thighs to conceal your modesty either way, squirming at the pressure it puts on your clit.
"Ah, eager little thing," he says in a moment you must part for breath. "I'll make sure to make this last."
Nails drag through the groomed facial hair outlining his face. Your panting breaths mingle with his steady ones where your mouths meet and part rhythmically. His hands continue upward, sliding fluidly from your thighs to your hips, continuing onward up your tender sides. The drafty, damp air of the room kisses your freshly bared stomach, drawing a pitiful groan from high in your throat. Big and warm hands reverently knead your flesh as he continues exploring and dragging your nightgown upward. His hands chase away the cold chill of the hardwood floor, warming up your insides like a fire. Finally the bunched nightgown comes to rest above your tits and the demon swallows your gasp when the cold air meets your chest.
He pulls back to admire you as those broad, rough hands paw greedily at your tits. You squirm and arch into the touch. His long black claws dimple into supple flesh as he kneads in earnest, teasing as they dip into the tender swells but avoid piercing the skin. He opens his mouth and you witness his tongue for the first time— the black muscle unfurling longer than any human tongue. He squeezes your breast and laves his tongue over the overly sensitive nipple, pebbled hard from the chill. Grey lips fold around the bud as he sucks, followed shortly by the pinpricks of those razor-sharp fangs playfully nipping at you. Your lungs convulse in shock and you push your tits into his face. Your body is so sensitive and reactive, everything responding to him in ways you never could have imagined.
You writhe restlessly under the demon's skillful touch, whining louder as he continues playing with your tits. Only when he has sucked and bitten several red spots does he move on from your chest. Lips trail between your breasts and down the center of your stomach, black tongue tracing wet lines which cool in the air and raises goosebumps along your abdomen. One of his hands wedges between your tightly clenched knees, prying your legs apart with little effort. The man-creature's thick body slips between your thighs before you can clamp them shut again, exposing your glistening core to him.
Heat prickles your face and pools between your opened thighs, embarrassment and excitement warring for dominance. Bent over your prone form, the demon leisurely rakes his claws up and down your sides, narrowed eyes observing your body and reactions appreciatively. Your own hands repeatedly chase his as they smooth over your skin, and are repeatedly pushed out of the way in order for him to continue rubbing up and down your ribs. The black keratin claws leave long red lines, using just enough pressure to leave visible marks but enough to not draw blood. His power and restraint is humbling and frightening, and terribly arousing.
Holding your eyes rapt with his own, the man-shaped beast slowly begins to lower himself until he's close enough to dip his face between the thickest portion of your thighs. His hands forcefully clamp down around the small of your waist and keep you pinned when he drags his pierced nose through your dripping folds, nudging your swollen clit before surfacing. You pant frantically and squirm in his unforgiving grip, desperately clutching the backs of his hands. It's almost uncomfortable how foreign the feeling is, but the thought and feeling of his face buried in your sex is so undeniably arousing that it drowns out the discomfort. He dips down again, and nosing you. This time he allows his devilish tongue to slither out and taste you. It laps at your dripping entrance, trailing up to circle your throbbing clit. A bolt of electric pleasure shoots through you and you cry out, hands flying from his to grasp at his shaven head. Your fingers hook around the small horns at his high hairline and use them as leverage to pull him closer and grind yourself onto his face. The pads of your thumbs emphatically trace up the front of the little beige horns and that elicits a full, rumbling moan from the lips of your inhuman lover into your core.
The demon grinds your clit with his nose and laps at your wetness with his tongue, yet does not penetrate you. Your hips buck and muscles seize with the concentrated attention to your swollen bud, body racked with spasms of euphoria. He drags it out longer than you've ever lasted on your own before, somehow able to sense every single time you begin to near orgasm. Every time you feel your completion slip away you wail and rub at his horns, as if you can butter him up and coax him to properly finish you by massaging his erogenous zones. Though each time he gives an unrestrained moan and enthusiastic squeeze to your waist, he never lets up nor lets you come.
Finally he does something different, but it's not what you'd been anticipating. He draws back entirely, kneeling between your heavily trembling thighs. His smug face glistens with your wetness and he licks his lips in satisfaction. His gaze is dark and hungry, devouring you with just a look. Before you can protest, he grasps your hips and hauls you towards him, yanking your bottom half up onto his bent thighs. You squeal and attempt to wriggle away, feeling entirely too vulnerable and exposed in this position. He shushes you and pets your sides soothingly before returning his bruising grip to the fullness of your hips. Your knees brace insecurely against his ribs, calves hugging against his lower back. The tail begins to stroke your left calf, further pacifying you.
"Go on, pretty girl. If you want me you'll have to finish yourself first," he croons. "Put on a show for me, baby."
Your breath hitches at his words. Drunk on the prolonged high of his teasing, your palm begins caressing down the length of your bare body, fingers splaying as you explode the swells and curves of your own body for him. You don't know how to put on a show or impress him, but the way he's looking at you makes you think it's working regardless. The demon's slitted eyes watch your every movement with a fascinated intensity, memorizing each motion and noise you make under your own hand. His nostrils flare with interest and arousal when your hand finally sinks between your elevated thighs. Your middle two digits tentatively finger your engorged clit, working up a frenzy. Watching you rubbing tight circles on your clit elicits a deep, rumbling growl from the demon and he slaps his hands down on your thighs, keeping a tight hold on you as you twitch and writhe.
From this angle, with your hips, thighs, and ass propped up on his meaty thighs, his erect manhood bobs just above the apex of your thighs where your hand meets your cunt. A pearly bead of precum drips onto your hand and runs between the cracks of your fingers, which are still dutifully hard at work. You only notice now that you can see the fullness of his cock, but there are several definite ridges along its shaft, leading to a somewhat tapered, pointed tip. The thought of what they may feel like inside you has a fresh wave of arousal gushing in your core. You squirm under his relentless stare, mewling as your fingers milk your own pleasure. You chase the white-hot release in your core higher and higher over the peak of ecstasy, nearly to the point of sobbing when you orgasm. Claws sink into the meat of your thighs as you tense and tremble under him, your mouth dropping open in a gasping moan.
The beast leans down and practically folds you in half to meet your open mouth with a rough and rapacious kiss. His sweet tongue licks into your mouth, drinking up your panting breaths and high-pitched whimpers. There is no coming down from the high of your orgasm— not when he is pinning your thighs to your chest and kissing you like you're the air he breathes. He isn't discreet in the way he grinds his heavy cock between your folds, coating himself in your liquid desire.
"Such a good girl," he hisses out, dragging his numerous fangs along your jaw. "Such a good little whore for me. Do you want me to fuck you like one?"
You let out something between a wail and a moan, nodding frantically against the scruff of his sideburn. He slides his hands up the bare backs of your thighs, hooking his thumbs around the bends in your knees to keep you sufficiently pinned in place. The position makes you short of breath, squeezing each panting huff from your straining lungs. The demon noses your cheek and you feel the press of his weight and his teeth when he speaks.
"Use your words, pretty girl. I know you haven't been fucked dumb yet because I've barely even touched you."
You try your hardest to squirm beneath his considerable weight but only succeed in grinding yourself against his throbbing cock.
"P— Please," you gasp, "I ne— I need you to fu-uck me!"
"Good girl," he purrs.
He leaves a surprisingly tender kiss against the corner of your mouth and you find yourself chasing his lips, seeking out the sickly sweet taste of his mouth. He chuckles when you eagerly peck his lips a few successive times, though allows you to continue with the innocent indulgence. He has far more sinful things in mind, after all. The candles around the room flicker, a crack of thunder rattles the windows.
The demon shifts your legs to one side, both knees straining to bend over his right shoulder. With one hand freed—the other still holding your legs in place—he seeks out the chalice of your forbidden nectar, slipping his clawed fingers in between your puffy folds. With a deftness that isn't as surprising as it is comforting, he slips two fingers into your pussy without so much as brushing you with his talons. You jerk against his restraining pressure when he crooks those fingers inside you and strokes a spot that makes you see stars. You convulse at the feeling, pushing your hips into the overpowering sensation.
He pets the sensitive spot inside you a few times more before removing his hand from you. It instead wedges between your bodies where he grasps his cock and thoroughly coats it with your slick, pumping himself up for good measure, as if he isn't already hard as stone. You jolt when he runs the swollen, slightly pointed head over your clit and whimper when he ruts against your cunt. The breath is completely stolen from your lungs when he presses into you, sinking into the wet heat of your soaked pussy. He groans sinfully, baring his innumerable sharp teeth as he sinks deeper. The ribbed ridges pop inside you one by one, slowly dragging along your velvety interior. Folded in half like this, you feel his thick length penetrating deep inside you, deeper than you could've ever thought possible. You think you feel him in the back of your throat, sinking further and further into your heat seemingly without end. The stretch and sting is immense, but nothing in comparison to the utterly blissful feeling of fullness.
You gasp for air once the beast finally reaches the hilt, gulping down greedy lungfuls like you've never breathed a moment in your life. Already, sweat is beading on your face and in the valley between your breasts, yet the hulking man-creature barely looks winded above you. He examines your flushed and debauched face with a sort of scientific interest; his inhumanly pale, slit-pupil eyes roam over your features like one would observe a creature they've never seen before. Above all, he looks at you with an indescribable hunger, which threatens to spill out and consume you whole.
"How does it feel, little lamb?" he asks with a toothy grin, taking smug pleasure in your fucked-out delirium. He leans in close, making sure you can hear his words as he continues in a low, husky tone. "How does it feel to be defiled and deflowered by an infernal creature like me?"
Punctuating his sinful words, he grinds hard into you, drawing out a pitiful wheeze from your abused lungs. The base of his cock grinds against your clit, the friction making you whine and desperately claw at his thick shoulders. The more he prolongs this the more it begins to feel like some form of torture, and you start to feel yourself brimming with sudden, frustrated tears. You didn't know how much you needed this until it is being dangled just out of reach. Everything is still painfully over-sensitive, and your pathetic yearning for him and for another release is becoming too much to bear. He hasn't even fucked you yet and you can already tell you're going to be insatiable.
"Poor little lamb, so hungry for me," the demon coos, a smidge patronizingly. He removes his stabilizing hand from your legs to caress your hot, sweating face, wiping away the exasperated tears that have squeezed out past your clenched eyelids. "There there, no need to cry. I'll fuck you, pretty girl, just like you want."
He leans back just slightly—giving you a bit extra room to draw in a whole breath—and with him he takes the feeling of being stuffed full. His ridged cock pulls out nearly all the way, leaving your pussy to twitch around nothing in nervous anticipation. You tilt your head back, shifting in suspense and swimming in the prolonged feeling of borderline euphoria; almost there, but not quite. You try to focus on steadying your breathing—
The sound drawn from your throat when he thrusts himself back inside you is nearly animalistic. Your nails dig into meaty shoulders, leaving behind little crescent marks that pale in comparison to what you imagine his can do. He chuckles at your shock as he thrusts into you again, apparently amused that he'd managed to catch you so off-guard. All you can do is wantonly moan and let your head loll back, drowning in the sensory experience of this humanoid beast taking you on the floor, surrounded by candles and the proof of your stupid recklessness.
A grey hand slaps down on the floor beside your head, bracing the sturdy body above you as he fucks into. Each thrust is enthusiastic and powerful, yet you can still sense some amount of restraint being utilized. Though you want him to fuck you in earnest, the small voice of reason in the back of your mind reminds you that this inhuman creature could very well kill you without even trying; you don't invite him to push harder or faster, trusting him to set a pace that won't leave you with internal damage. Turning your head to the side reveals the face of the chrome helmet he had dropped, its hollow eyes staring into your own. You swallow a hiccuped breath and turn your face back to the demon.
You don't know if he's ever looked away from your face, but regardless he meets your gaze when you return it to him. His thick eyebrows are knotted tightly over icy, half-lidded eyes which sparkle with devious delight. He huffs with each thrust into you, concentrating hard on keeping a steady rhythm while also keeping his attention on your dewey face. Somewhere in your periphery over and around the mass of the demon's hulking frame, you take note of his spaded tail rapidly thumping the floor where it's draped leisurely, the end wagging like an excitable dog's. You realize, admittedly a bit belatedly, that he's enjoying this just as much as you are. Your face pinches as you moan, shuddering against him as he pauses his rough pistoning to grind into you.
He sits up during this moment of pseudo reprieve, relieving you of his crushing weight. You gulp down full breaths again, allowing him to guide your legs down, resuming the half-elevated position from before. You can feel as each of those strange ridges drive in and out, aiding his hearty girth in stretching you out. The gentler thrusting drags his pointed cockhead across that spongey spot inside you, and as if reading your mind, he places a palm down just above your pubic bone and presses. You choke out a sobbing moan, bucking against him as he rams himself into that pressurized spot. His single hand spans a large enough area that he can maintain pressure on your lower abdomen and stimulate your clit simultaneously, looming over you like a shadow while wearing a delighted little smirk. His brows remain tightly knit, still concentrated on chasing his own pleasure as well as yours as he impales you over and over. With pupils so dilated they could almost look normal, he drinks in the sight of your spasming body, gaze lingering particularly long on where he splits you open on his cock.
Through pants and whines, you manage to work up enough strength to speak; "Y— Nngh— You feel so good."
Instantly you feel him twitch inside you in response, notice his tail whipping behind him just a little more frenetically. The hand not busy with pleasuring you rubs up the length of your torso, coming up to grope your breast as he bends forward by a fraction. You stretch slightly to grasp both of his thick wrists, while taking your lower lip between your teeth and bucking against him enthusiastically.
"Such a good girl, taking me so well," he grits out from between clenched fangs. "What a good little whore I'll make you. Pretty thing... all for me."
Your cunt flutters around him and he groans loud. His deft thumb catches your clit perfectly and you feel that welcome tension coil rapidly like a taut spring. At the prompting of your particularly noisy wail he circles his thumb harder, faster, and more pointedly until you come fully undone around him. Your thighs dig into his flanks and the walls of your pussy clench hard around his pulsing cock, gushing fluids sucking him deeper while your muscles try to expel him with the force of your orgasm. The muscles in your abdomen seize up and you curl in on yourself as pleasure rocks your twitching body, sobbing out in ecstasy and exhaustion.
The beast relentlessly fucks you through your second orgasm, and afterward. He uses both hands securely on your hips as leverage to repeatedly spear you onto himself. Nearly entirely listless as you recover from your earth-shattering orgasm, all you can bring yourself to do is rake your nails up and down his hairy forearms, admiring the muscles as they flex beneath granite toned skin. Those hard ribs along his cock rake out spasms of shivering overstimulation, bringing you to the point of overwhelmed tears again.
The grip on your hips grows punishing and you're sure bruises will begin to blossom under the pads of his clawed fingers. His flicking tail curls up in a spiral and his broad shoulders pitch forward. A mighty tremble rattles his frame in the same moment as his length twitches inside you, and you feel it as his hot release paints your insides. The man-creature roars through clenched teeth and bows forward, touching his forehead to your damp chest. His hips continue bucking as you milk the last of his considerable release.
You feel boneless in his grasp, stuffed so completely full of him that you can feel a bit of his seed trickling out around his girth. Every other breath that seeps from your lungs comes out as a pitiful mewl. The demon stirs overtop you, dragging his pierced nose up the middle of your chest to your throat. He stretches out above you, shifting your legs and his own while still keeping himself buried within you. His tail unfurls and whips back and forth in a large arc, far more animatedly than before. He licks at your steadily relaxing pulse, sucking tenderly at the thrumming spot. Your tired arms reach up and drape around his broad torso, scratching lightly at his back where muscles ripple and flex.
The demon shifts from overtop you, removing himself from your sensitive core. You feel each ridge as he pulls out, spilling a messy trail of cum out of you. Big hands paw at the nightgown still bunched up at your collarbone, drawing the gauzy thing up over your head and off your arms. He tosses it aside somewhere, yet none of the flickering candles are disturbed, as if they're all in a sustained state of suspended animation. Thunder and lightning continue to roil outside the bay windows, smothering the outside world down to the concentrated space within this solitary room. You sigh against the demon's scruffy sideburn and kiss his cheek, hung with your arms encircling his sturdy neck.
"Oh, my sweet little thing, how precious you are." He kisses your cheek in turn and then pulls back to run his hands up and down your sides like he just can't get enough. "This beautiful body... all for me, isn't it?"
You nod faintly while your eyelids flutter as he continues to affectionately pet you. He catches fast onto you increasing tiredness and chuckles.
"Come on little lamb," he coaxes, nipping gingerly at the column of your throat. "Don't fall asleep on me now, pretty girl. I'm not done with you yet."
You actually whine a little at the thought of being manhandled anymore. Your muscles ache and the hardwood floor certainly isn't an ideal place to lose your virginity to an oddly compassionate demon. Your tune slowly begins to change when he leans down to your ear, at the same time one hand slips between your legs to gather up the cum that seeped out and pump it back into you.
He drags his nose and lips over the shell of your ear, teasing you with his fangs as he whispers; "You want my infernal seed to stick, don't you?" The beast crooks his thick fingers against that special spot in your cunt, drawing out a hoarse moan. He withdraws his fingers only to splay his hand out over your stomach. "My virginal bride, your belly swollen with my pup... Tell me that's what you want."
"Mmm..." You squirm beneath him, nuzzling your face against his.
"Your words, lamb," he growls into your ear.
Another petulant whine builds up in your throat, but you resist the urge to loose it. Warmth blossoms anew in your cheeks and between your legs, scandalized and intrigued by his salaciously worded suggestion. A rationally thinking you would be horrified at the idea, but right now it's all you can do not to moan and writhe and beg the big guy to fuck you stupid again.
Yet, that's exactly what you find yourself doing anyway, despite fatigue making itself a home in your heavy limbs.
"Nngh... Yes, yes. I want that." You bite your lip and wiggle your hips, as if he needs any further enticing. "Please, I want you. Give me more."
"Good girl, good baby. Come here."
His thick arms encompass you, spreading their warmth throughout your body. He has no trouble in hoisting you up off your back, listless as you are. Nor does he have a problem with maneuvering you around like a doll once you're up. He twists you around in his arms, slotting a knee between yours to knock them apart. You jolt in surprise and he lurches you forward, rousing you from your sleepy state as he pins your front to the cold floor. Your breathing quickens, hands scrambling to push yourself out of this vulnerable position. The beast drapes himself over you before you can shift away, nuzzling into the mussed hair behind close by ear. You turn your head and strain to keep an eye on him, right cheek pressed hard to the floor. His knees keep yours spread, his weight pushing your front nearly completely flat against the wood floor. One hand snakes beneath your body to prod at your pulsing clit.
"That's a good girl," he purrs. His breath is hot on your ear. "You can do it, one more round."
Your brows pitch up and eyes screw shut is a silent moan, pussy fluttering around nothing. Your hips push back against him as he circles your abused clit, milking fresh euphoria from the sacred bundle of nerves. You feel the expansion and deflation of his broad chest against your back, his erection bobbing between your cleaved legs. His tail winds around one of your thighs, squeezing like a thin python. His other hand seeks out his cock, taking time to run the pointed tip over your reactive clit. You're not sure if it's sensitivity from your previous orgasms and the enthusiastic fucking on the demon's part, but you feel so tender to every touch. Your breasts against the floor ache and your core throbs with a desperate need— your thirst unslakable.
The demon gradually plunges himself into your soaked cunt, letting each ridge sink into you at an agonizingly slow rate. Nearly instantly those strange, inhuman protrusions drag just right against the front wall of your pussy, earning him a choked wail of ecstasy, your hips pushing back to meet his. This must be what the ribbing is for, you decide, and with that you're positively ruined for any other human man. You can never imagine anything better than this feeling of wanton yearning and fireworks he facilitates.
Keeping you snug against his front, the demon begins his brutal pounding again. Each savage thrust drives the air from your lungs in unbidden wheezes and groans. His dick batters the gummy spot within you and his thick fingers work you from the outside, generating a mind-numbing and sweetly painful euphoria. His long, hot tongue slithers along the portion of spine between your scapula, sharp teeth nipping experimentally across your left shoulder.
"You're doing so well. Just a little more, then I'll let you rest, beautiful. Just a little more."
Teeth sink into your skin and you wail in agony and ecstasy, his fingers and cock drawing out your third shuddering orgasm. Hot blood pools in the demon's mouth, running down the junction of your shoulder and neck where it drips to the floor from the curve of your jaw. The scent of sweat and blood and sex is overpowering as you gasp for breath, sobbing and moaning as you clench around his bludgeoning length.
The beast licks at the fresh bite wound, soothing the pain with his black tongue. Already the pain has begun to alleviate, replaced with a delightful sort of ache that, against your better judgement, leaves you wanting more. His hand beneath your body shifts upward, skating along your stomach to arch you up against him more effectively. After several more deep thrusts like this his hand continues its search upward. While maintaining his unforgiving pace the demon throws his weight backward and yanks you up by the throat, thick fingers effortlessly pinching the arteries at either side of your neck.
He tips backward with your back laid to his chest, still keeping your knees spread wide with his own, your ass supported by his bulky thighs. Your stomach is covered by one of his enormous hands, your neck by the other— held in place against him by his granite arms and spearing cock. Though your vision is blurry with exhaustion and rapturous tears, you can still make out the trail of fresh blood which now trickles down between your breasts. Since pulling you up the demon has bitten you again and again, devotedly laving his tongue over the bites each time. You don't even register it as pain now, only the thrill of adrenaline as it floods your overworked system and adds to your heady pleasure. You're positively drunk on him.
You reach behind you and grasp at the back of the demon's shaven head, holding onto him for stability as he rocks up into you. Straining eyes peer down the length of your own body, to where his glistening length disappears into you over and over. The wily fingers of your other hand slip to your pussy, spread around his shaft to feel in awe as he pumps into you. The mere concept of being split open like this has you moaning shamelessly and arching your throat into his palm. His stony shades of ash and charcoal contrast such an erotic difference against your human skin, human body. Your hand at the base of his neck fumbles lower, seeking out that mysterious tail that routinely enraptures you.
The beast rumbles approvingly when you finally grasp the thick base of the prehensile appendage. You stroke his tail to the rhythm of his upward thrusts, petting the charming peach fuzz and squeezing it hard when he delivers a particular aggressive plunge. Without thinking very clearly, you wind the thinner end around your palm like a rope, using it as leverage to tug.
Those knife teeth pierce your skin again where your right shoulder intersects with your neck, drinking up the virginal blood he spills with great verve and appetite. The hand at your throat slides upward to your jaw, tilting your head to face him. Your eyes flutter shut and lips part to welcome his sticky kiss. You're met with a mouthful of your own lifeblood, syphoned from his hot mouth into yours. You splutter on your shock, choking down the thick, metallic liquid he forces past your lips. It leaves a bitter tang on your tongue as he continues kissing you. His steady bucking is gradually becoming more feverish and sloppy, jostling you roughly in the cage of his arms.
"J-Just one more for me, baby. I know you can," he groans against your cheek, smearing your blood from on his mouth and nose across your flushed skin.
His hand on your stomach presses down in that particular way, stringing out that coil of tension from within you. You catch his lips and he swallows your cry, restraining your writhing and twitching as the peak of release quickly snaps. Your sucking pussy spasms and chokes out his throbbing cock, bringing him over the edge with you. The demon sinks you on his shaft as far as you can fit, making damn sure he's spurting his hot seed onto your sore cervix. He grunts and pants against your gaping mouth, lidded eyes triumphantly absorbing your fucked-out exhaustion.
He's shockingly gentle when he lifts you off his cock and bolsters you, compassionately licking the sweat and blood and wounds ringed around your shoulders and neck like a gruesome necklace. Your chest heaves, body thoroughly spent. Your body is tender and sore when the demon lays you down.
"You did so well, my perfect girl. I'm so proud of you."
The demon looms over you where he splayed you out on your back, planting soft kisses across your face. You groan, pawing at his chest hovering by your head. You feel his fingertips fondly tracing the spots where he'd bitten you, somehow scarred over already. Your heart aches, filled with a bizarre and affectionate longing for him. You hold your trembling legs together, your core puffy and overworked and weeping with his cum. It trickles around the curves of your ass, pooling on the floor beneath you where it cools; he doesn't scoop it back in this time. Your womb twinges, hips aching.
You can't imagine wanting anyone else in this way now; he is all you desire. His delirious worship of you plants itself in your mind and takes root, wheedling its way into your sense of reality like an insidious weed. He said he wouldn't take anything from you, but you have half the mind to offer your soul to him, if only for him to make good on his word and take you as his hellbride.
"Please... please stay," you whisper desperately. You weakly grab his thick arm, giving him the most pleading, demure look you can manage in this worn-out state.
He gives you a warm glance in reply, gently shaking you off. "I'm sorry, little lamb, I can't stay. We should do this again sometime."
You close your eyes when he leans in to kiss your forehead, relishing the warmth of his lips on your heated skin. When you open your eyes again the demon has vanished, despite the warm feeling of his lips still lingering on your brow.
#raaaaahhhhh im actually obsessed with how this turned out#as always I rec reading on ao3 rather than here...#the band ghost#ghost bc#aether ghoul#aether ghoul x reader#nameless ghoul x reader#goldfinch writes
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Free choice, part 2
Fandom: House of the Dragon
Pairing: Aemond x Lucerys
Summary: Aemond and Luke as the new versions of Hades and Persephone. The final part with some happy ending.
Part 1
When Luke returned to his guests, the empty seat at the table next to Helaena was the evident proof that he'd got it right. Aemond had made the decision for both of them, and he'd put a stop where nothing had even begun. Pain coursed through Luke's veins and forced him to close in on himself. Loud songs no longer amused him, and sincere congratulations no longer made him smile.
— My brother will always be a loner. You should have seen him on the throne in Hell. Like a ruthless and indifferent stone. I can't believe that eight years ago we were all running down the beach together and arguing over who could steal sweets from the kitchen before dinner. Things have changed so much.
Aegon stepped silently beside him, pouring wine into Luke's glass. The role of the new Dionysus suited him just fine, but in the heat of his drunken slumber even he realized just how much of a burden Aemond was carrying. Hell had sucked the strength out of his master, fed on his emotions, changed him into a pariah who turned everything around him to ash.
— You still like him, don't you? When you were a child, you almost looked into his mouth. Even now you look for him in the crowd, even though you know he's gone. If I was a good uncle, I'd tell you to forget all about it. But I'll tell you that Aemond is stubborn. He's got it into his head that he's not worthy of anything good. That dead souls and hellfire are the only things that can be his company. But it doesn't have to be that way, you know?
Luke nodded quickly, causing the corners of his lips to lift in gratitude, but he didn't feel any better. He still remembered the firmness in Aemond's voice when he'd denied Luke even an attempt. There was hope in him that he could get over it and move on. He was eighteen, his power was growing stronger, and there was a lush spring ahead, warmth and sunshine and the bright colors of blooming flowers. He could live without thoughts of Aemond, without the memories of him that haunted him in his dreams and turned into the illusion that there they were together and he had a chance to touch Aemond and see his rare smile that immediately softened his features.
It was much harder to do that, however. The image of Aemond haunted Luke everywhere; it was literally imprinted on his retinas. His first thought upon awakening was of Aemond, as was the very last one before he went to sleep. It was as if Luke was in a fever, and longing was eating away at him day after day. He lost his appetite and stopped smiling and talking to everyone around him. Even his favorite walks in the greenhouse were no longer pleasant. The weeks flew by one after another, but Luke didn't notice them at all, withdrawn from his own feelings.
Rhaenyra was the first to worry. As a mother, it was easy for her to see that Luke got closed from everyone. But her attempts to talk to her son proved futile. Luke politely refused everything and kept saying he was tired and wanted to be alone. Real anxiety gripped Rhaenyra as the nature around her began to slowly fade. Even Alicent had told her about it once at dinner, asking her to sort things out.
It was the peak of spring, but the buds on the trees were beginning to die, and the soil was drying out even though it was raining heavily. A cloudy overcast sky blocked out the sunlight. Rhaenyra had the feeling that autumn had suddenly arrived, and as the goddess of fertility, she knew that they would have no harvest, not a single green petal, not a single living flower until Luke wanted them to. But Luke didn't care, even when people started sending him their prayers.
The situation got so out of hand that even Aemond in the underworld took notice of how many souls were arriving to him, complaining about hunger and lack of sunshine. The final sign was a letter from Rhaenyra one morning. The dim light in Hell was no substitute for sunlight and was more like moonlight. Aemond slid his eyes over the lines, and something in his chest clenched nervously. A silly, naïve heart fluttered and kept telling him it was his fault.
"I hate the very thought of it. Luke is a truly sunny boy. He should be by my side, blooming as well as spring nature, having fun with the nymphs, surrounded by the real light and songs. But we don't choose the ones we love. There must be some good in you, lord of Hell, if my son clings to you so desperately. You poison him even with your absence and your silence.
Please, Aemond. If you have a shred of the same feelings in you, make it right."
Even if he had some affection for Luke, he forced himself not to think about it. Asking Luke or making him to go down to hell with him was unfair. Deep down, he was afraid that in a couple of months Luke would be disappointed in him and run off first, leaving Aemond alone with a broken heart. He already had huge trust issues, Aemond didn't know how to let people get close, and the ugly scar over his eye socket served as a good reminder. He was cold and rough, and any rudiments of tenderness that Luke evoked in him were buried under the conviction that they were too different.
Rhaenyra's letter, however, made Aemond see things from a different angle. Maybe Luke's feelings weren't a teenage whim, maybe they would stand the test of time and life together. Maybe they were strong enough to make Luke leave his old life behind and choose Aemond. To choose cold and death. There is no life in Hell, but Luke can bring it, because it has happened before. Persephone did it once. She could even give birth to a daughter there, though the very idea of raising a child in Hell seemed absurd.
It took him two days to gather his thoughts and make the decision from which he had so long tried to escape, casting wistful glances at Luke for the past few years. Aemond knew exactly where Luke's room was in his father's castle. Getting there was no problem. The darkness hid the sound of his footsteps, and the dense, dark shadows served as an excellent screen from prying eyes. Aemond entered the bedroom just after midnight, and the all too recognizable smell of asphodels served as a signal to Luke, causing him to turn around on the bed and disentangle himself from the cocoon of the blanket. His curls were a mess, and his eyes were puffy with black circles. He looked quite shitty, but his heart was still filled with tenderness, and he was utterly fascinated by Aemond.
— Did you really abandoned your possessions? There'll be a whole line of undead souls waiting for you when you get back, — Luke's voice was hoarse after days of silence. He was tormented by curiosity as to why Aemond had suddenly shown up, but he didn't let himself think about the reason.
— The souls will never run out, but I'll pay attention to them later and pass new sentences. Did you know you have to do this on your own? Every day is too much like the last because of it. The string of dead will never end, but that doesn't mean I have to be with them every minute. There are other things that deserve my attention.
Aemond spoke leisurely and gently, gradually reducing the distance between them. He crouched on the edge of the bed and glanced out the window, where the thunderous sky was blackening and the rain was gathering again. Luke's face was almost gray without sunlight, and without proper nourishment his wrists were even thinner and more fragile. It hurt Aemond to see him like this.
— This has to stop, Luke. I know you're stubborn, but you'll drive yourself to your grave.
— Why do you care? — Luke's voice seemed a ghost of his former self. Empty and indifferent. He'd once dreamed of having Aemond sneak into his bedroom, but now he wasn't happy about even that. — Am I going to hell when I die? Or are the gods spared that fate?
— You have many years ahead of you. Or do you hope to become a ghost beside me, haunting me to punish me for inaction? — a faint chuckle crossed Aemond's lips, but it faded quickly, and he reached out to brush his hand lightly against Luke's slender fingers. As cold as his own.
— But you really didn't do anything. You didn't let me. You know what I wanted.
— You have freedom of choice. I wanted you to have more opportunities. To create and evolve. Not just be a shadow of your old self. Who would dream of sitting on a throne next to me and deciding which circle of hell the next dead soul goes to? You won't be able to grow your favorite flowers there, you won't be able to bask in the sun or call the nymphs for a merry dance around the fire. Your new company will be Hypnos and Thanatos, my ever-hungry Cerberus and Charon, who's always complaining about the deads.
The answer was beating inside Luke, and the cherished "Yes" was about to slip off his tongue. In some ways, Aemond was right. But Luke remembered the tradition — he could spend six months on the surface, with his family, bringing joy and spring. But six months alone with Aemond appealed to him far more.
— Let me try. Please. You know I've wanted you, for so long that I feel like I've loved only you all my life, ever since I was a child. Let me be near you, and if it doesn't work, if you don't feel comfortable with me, I'll go away and never bother you again, — Luke hated to ask, but he felt how important this moment was, how doubting Aemond was. It was his only chance to reach him through that impenetrable shell of false beliefs. Aemond was worthy of love and affection. Aemond needed it far more than he was willing to admit.
Luke leaned forward and met his lips halfway. It wasn't his first kiss, but it was the most desirable one. Aemond's tongue stroked across his lips and into his mouth, bringing with it the distinct taste of pomegranate, and Luke relaxed completely, hiding his smile contentedly and not noticing how the sun suddenly peeked out between the gray clouds.
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Entries List (which I will keep updated)
Anything in bold has propaganda
Alex Strangelove (2018)
Alice Junior (Alice Júnior) (2019)
A Moment in the Reeds (Tämä hetki kaislikossa) (2017)
A Single Man (2009)
And Then We Danced (და ჩ���ენ ვიცეკვეთ) (2019)
Beach Rats (2017)
Big Eden (2000)
BPM (Beats Per Minute) (2017)
Blue is the Warmest Colour (La Vie d'Adèle - Chapitres 1 et 2) (2013)
Bodies Bodies Bodies (2022)
Booksmart (2019)
Bottoms (2023)
Bound (1996)
Boys (Jongens) (2014)
Boys Don’t Cry (1999)
Breakfast with Scot (2007)
Brokeback Mountain (2005)
But I'm a Cheerleader (1999)
Camp (2003)
Can You Ever Forgive Me (2018)
Carol (2015)
Call Me By Your Name (2017)
Center of My World (Die Mitte der Welt) (2016)
Chasing Amy (1997)
Closet Monster (2015)
Cloudburst (2011)
Colette (2018)
Crash (1996)
Crush (2022)
Dating Amber (2020)
D.E.B.S. (2004)
Desert Hearts (1984)
Disobedience (2017)
Duck Butter (2018)
Edge of Seventeen (1998)
Elephant (Słoń) (2022)
Esteros (2016)
Everything Everywhere All At Once (2022)
Fire Island (2022)
Freak Show (2017)
Funeral Parade of Roses (薔薇の葬列) (1969)
Get Real (1998)
God’s Own Country (2017)
Grandma (2015)
Handsome Devil (2016)
Happiest Season (2020)
Happy Together (春光乍洩) (1997)
Hearts Beat Loud (2018)
Hedwig and the Angry Inch (2001)
I Can't Think Straight (2008)
I Dream in Another Language (Sueño en otro idioma) (2017)
I Killed My Mother (2009)
I Love You Phillip Morris (2009)
In & Out (1997)
Jenny's Wedding (2015)
Je Tu Il Elle (1974)
Kajillionaire (2020)
Kill Your Darlings (2013)
Kinky Boots (2005)
Latter Days (2003)
Longtime Companion (1989)
Mario (2018)
Maurice (1987)
Milk (2008)
Moonlight (2016)
Mosquita Y Mari (2012)
Mulholland Drive (2001)
My Beautiful Laundrette (1985)
Mysterious Skin (2004)
Nina's Heavenly Delights (2006)
North Sea Texas (Noordzee, Texas) (2011)
Operation Hyacinth (Hiacynt) (2021)
Pariah (2011)
Patrik Age 1.5 (Patrik 1,5) (2008)
Portrait of a Lady on Fire (Portrait de la jeune fille en feu) (2019)
Princess Cyd (2017)
Professor Marston and the Wonder Women (2017)
Rafiki (2018)
Rūrangi (2020)
Saving Face (2005)
Selah and the Spades (2019)
Shiva Baby (2020)
Sorry Angel (Plaire, Aimer et Courir Vite) (2018)
Straight Up (2019)
Swan Song (2021)
Tangerine (2015)
Tár (2022)
The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert (1994)
The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant (Die Bitteren Tränen Der Petra Von Kant) (1972)
The Bubble (הבועה) (2006)
The Conformist (Il conformista) (1970)
The Feels (2017)
The Half of It (2020)
The Handmaiden (아가씨) (2016)
The Kids Are All Right (2010)
The Lost Boys (Le Paradis) (2023)
The Meetings of Anna (Les Rendez-vous d'Anna) (1978)
The Miseducation of Cameron Post (2018)
The Power of the Dog (2021)
The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975)
The Strong Ones (Los fuertes) (2019)
The Watermelon Woman (1996)
The Way He Looks (Hoje Eu Quero Voltar Sozinho) (2014)
The 10 Year Plan (2014)
Tomboy (2011)
Totally Fucked Up (1993)
To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything! Julie Newmar (1995)
Transamerica (2005)
Water Lillies (Naissance des Pieuvres) (2007)
Yossi & Jagger (יוסי וג'אגר) (2002)
You, Me and Him (2017)
#i'll add my own propaganda to the movies i like but i haven't written it yet#in the meantime please send stuff in!#i also have seen several of these way too long ago to remember anything much to say about them even if i did like them
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Every sapphic movie, show or book I like:
(* = favorites)
Movies:
Bend It Like Beckham (lesbian/trans coded)
Black Swan
*Bodies Bodies Bodies
*Booksmart
Bottoms
Braid
But I'm A Cheerleader
Dating Amber
*Death Becomes Her (sapphic coded)
D.E.B.S
Do Revenge
*Everything Everywhere All At Once
Fear Street
Fucking Åmål
*Ginger Snaps (sapphic/queer coded)
Hearts Beat Loud
Heart Shot
*Jennifer's Body
Joy Ride (I think one of the MCs is sapphic?)
Kajillionaire
May
My Days Of Mercy
*My First Summer
Nope (Sapphic sister I think?)
Pariah
Polite Society (either a lesbian or aroace mc)
Princess Cyd
Rafiki
Rye Lane (Sapphic coded MC)
Saint Maud
Saving Face
Set It Off
*Shiva Baby
*Sissy
Sweetheart
Unpregnant
The Fallout
The Half Of It
The Handmaiden
The Incredibly True Adventure of 2 Girls In Love
*The Miseducation Of Cameron Post
The Rocky Horror Picture Show
Shows:
*A League Of Their Own
Adventure Time
*A Kind Of Spark (Keedie is not hetero)
*Anne With An E (sapphic coded)
American Horror Story
*Arcane
Betty
Black Cake
Derry Girls
Degrassi
Druck (seasons 5&6)
Everything Now
Everything Sucks (problematic actor age gap)
Everything's Gonna Be Okay
Faking It
First Kill
Gap: The Series
Genera+ion
Gentleman Jack
*Good Omens
Grease: Rise Of The Pink Ladies
*Hacks
*Heartbreak High
Heartstopper
I Am Not Okay With This
Killing Eve
Little Fires Everywhere
Lucifer
Minx
Motherland Fort Salem
One Day At A Time
Our Flag Means Death
*Paper Girls
*Peacemaker
Ratched
Sex Education
She-Ra
Stranger Things
*Such Brave Girls
Swarm
Teenage Bounty Hunters
*The Boys + Gen V
The Formal (tiktok/youtube series)
*The Good Place
The Haunting Of Bly Manor
The Last Of Us
The Legend Of Korra
*The Owl House
*The Power
*The Sex Lives Of College Girls
The White Lotus
*The Wilds
Upload
Vida
Warrior Nun
We Are Lady Parts
*What We Do In The Shadows
While The Men Are Away
Wo der Egg Priority
Xo, Kitty
*Yellowjackets
Books:
Ace Of Spades
*A Dowry Of Blood
Afterlove
Black Cake
*Black Girl, Call Home
Burn Down, Rise Up
Cinderella Is Dead
Clap When You Land
Crier's War
Dear Medusa
Girls Of Paper And Fire
Hani And Ishu's Guide To Fake Dating
*Her Body And Other Parties
Honey Girl
House Of Hunger
If You Still Recognise Me
It Goes Like This
In The Dream House
In The Ravenous Dark
I Who Have Never Known Men
You're Not Supposed To Die Tonight
*Keedie + A Kind Of Spark
Last Night At The Telegraph Club
*Legendborn (Sapphic SC)
Loveless (Sapphic SCs)
Music From Another World
Nothing Burns As Bright As Her
Not My Problem
Our Wives Under The Sea
Parachutes (Sapphic SC)
Perfect On Paper
Radio Silence
Rise To The Sun
She Gets The Girl
She Drives Me Crazy
*She Who Became The Sun
Siren Queen
The Chosen And The Beautiful
The Falling In Love Montage
The Girls I've Been
The Henna Wars
The Jasmine Throne
*The Kyoshi Novels
*The Locked Tomb Series
*The Mirror Season
The Nature Of Witches
*The Priory Of The Orange Tree
The River Has Teeth
*The Unbroken
These Witches Don't Burn
Graphic Novels:
*Are You Listening
Hi-Fi Club
Jook Joint
Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up With Me
*On A Sunbeam
*Paper Girls
*Spinning
The Avant-Guards
*The Tea Dragon Society
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Queer sapphic media I have consumed!! Mainly sapphic, did not include media with sapphics as side characters.
May have loved, liked, disliked, or been indifferent.
FILMS
Ammonite (2020) dir. Francis Lee
A League of Their Own (2022) by Will Graham and Abbi Jacobson
Booksmart (2019) dir. Olivia Wilde
Baka Bukas (2016) dir. Samantha Lee
But I'm a Cheerleader (1999) dir. Jamie Babbit
Carol (2015) dir. Todd Haynes
Carmen and Lola (2018) dir. Arantxa Echevarría
Crush (2022) dir. Sammi Cohen
D. E. B. S. (2004) dir. Angela Robinson
Disobedience (2017) dir. Sebastián Lelio
Elena Undone (2010) dir. Nicole Conn
Everything Everywhere All at Once (2022) dir. Daniel Kwan & Daniel Scheinert
Fear Street Trilogy (2021) dir. Leigh Janiak
Imagine Me & You (2005) dir. Ol Parker
Pariah (2011) dir. Dee Rees
Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019) dir. Céline Sciamma
Pride (2014) dir. Matthew Warchus
Rafiki (2018) dir. Wanuri Kahiu
Saving Face (2004) dir. Alice Wu
The Favourite (2018) dir. Yorgos Lanthimos
The Feels (2017) dir. Jenér LaMarque
The Half of It (2020) dir. Alice Wu
The Handmaiden (2016) dir. Park Chan-wook
The Miseducation of Cameron Post (2018) dir. Desiree Akhavan
The Perfection (2018) dir. Richard Shephard
Vita & Virginia (2018) dir. Chanya Button
SERIES/SHOWS
Bloom Into You (2018) dir. Makoto Katō
Black Mirror: San Junipero (2016) dir. Owen Harris
Dickinson (2019) by Alena Smith
Euphoria (2019) dir. Sam Levinson
How to Get Away with Murder (2014) by Peter Nowalk
Sense8 (2015) dir. The Wachowskis
The Fall of the House of Usher (2023) dir. Mike Flanagan
The Haunting of Bly Manor (2020) dir. Mike Flanagan
The Haunting of Hill House (2018) dir. Mike Flanagan
BOOKS
Cinderella is Dead (2020) by Kalynn Bayron
Hani and Ishu's Guide to Fake Dating (2021) by Adiba Jaigirdar
Henna Wars (2020) by Adiba Jaigirdar
The Dark Wife (2011) by Sarah Diemer
The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo (2017) by Taylor Jenkins Reid
#lgbtq#lgbtqa#lgbt film#lgbtq film#lgbtq fiction#queer love#sapphic#sappho#sapphic media#lesbian media#multifandom#wlw culture#wlw#wlw ship#love women#women#wow women#i love women wahhhh#i refuse to watch bitwc for obvious reasons#i have a lot of stuff in my pending#did this instead of writing an essay due tomorrow#lgbt shows#lgbt show#lgbt films#lesbian
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Asleep In The Keep: A DP x BNHA fic
Summary: Danny wakes up in the Keep, but he is not the same
Word count: 1510
Chapter 2: Wake Up Call
2/?
Only blackness surrounded him, It’s tethers wrapping around his body and pulling him down into nothingness. Danny could do nothing, still too tired and heavy from the fight as it ate him whole. He felt it all around him, but also felt nothing.
No pain. No fear. No sadness.
It hummed around him, shaking everything inside it. Danny stopped fighting and let go. The Nothing felt nice. Everything had finally stopped. Danny no longer had a body. Or maybe this was his body? He couldn’t tell. What was certain is that he was no longer anything at all. He was nothing. The void seemed to understand his acceptance and it held him closer. It felt like a mothers hug. Something shifted within and warmth radiated everywhere. It crept in and he felt strength filling his limp body. But the Nothing was strong. It closed his eyes and held him, whispering empty words of sleep and rest. Danny listened, unable to do anything else, not that he would.
He was no longer aware of what was happening to himself. He was no longer aware at all. He just was.
Time was moving too fast or too slow. It didn’t exist. But something changed.
White started to seep out from the black, slowly spreading like glue and sticking all over. It reached wherever Danny existed, and it finally started to wrap around him too. It was cold (but still comforting). It crept up his body, flowing into every vein, weaving through every muscle. Then it reached his eyes and…
Danny woke up.
He shot up from the green sheets that encased him. Everything felt too much and too sudden. He breathed in deeply, but no air came in or out. He rubbed his head, confusion swirling around. He couldn’t remember what happened. Everything was far away and hazy, like waking up with a dream still fresh in your mind. He didn’t know how long his eyes were open until he finally processed what he was seeing. He recognized the green of the Ghost Zone, how everything was blurry at the edges, like they were trying to remember what they were supposed to be.
His memory hit him like a bucket of cold water. He had fought Pariah Dark.
He had won.
Sam, Tucker, Jazz sitting around him.
He died in their arms.
This wasn’t right.
He Shouldn’t be hereHe ran through the halls of the Keep. He was deeper than he was last time. Or yesterday? Everything was still hazy. Things looked different in the Keep too. It had the same green candles and medieval flare, but it wasn’t as dark and oppressive as when he first entered. The air (if the Ghost Zone even had air) felt lighter. Like it welcomed him.
Danny didn’t know how he was still alive. Was he alive? He didn’t feel alive, but he also didn’t feel dead? He felt energized! Like if you got stabbed and the adrenaline kicks in. Almost alive, but not for long. He was ready to die, and gladly did so, he was at peace with that. He had plenty of time to mourn his own death after the accident. He didn’t want to go, but he accepted it, like dying in a plane crash but not having it any other way.
Danny just didn’t expect to wake up is all.
Ghost Zone physics didn’t help his confusion. He ran through room to room as easily as a human could in the Realm. It felt so natural. That he was supposed to be alive. Was he? Or maybe his fucked up biology carried over to his ‘after life’. He was a freak as a human and as a ghost.
After ceaselessly running, Danny made it to a familiar unfamiliar room. He made his way through the throne room, slow and quiet in his steps. The gentle glow of the Ghost Zone shown through what were once barred windows, were now stained-glass windows. Each one depicted a different story or legend that he didn’t know, but he did recognize a few of the figures like Frostbite and Pandora. His eyes traveled up the walls to the ceiling where the most elaborate piece was displayed. His mouth was open in awe and confusion. It depicted a constellation forming a figure eerily similar to his own, wearing a crown. He knew deep down, it wasn’t a coincidence. Danny knew who it was but didn’t let it crawl to the surface.
The multicolored glow from the skylight traveled down and danced atop the throne like motes. It wasn’t made of bones like before but was finely sculpted out of metal and ice. On the soft looking green cushion, lay the Crown. It sat there like a sleeping cat in a sunbeam. As if it were that harmless.
Displayed behind the throne was the sarcophagus, like Pariah Dark could crack it open to whisper corrupting thoughts in its occupants ear.
Danny's spine went rigid. Being in the room set off every human instinct still in him to leave, or maybe even ghost, the memory of the King could not be so easily forgotten. But something pulled his core along, like a finger wrapping around a string. It wasn’t him. But it was. He walked closer and closer to the throne. He was possessing himself. His numb hands reached out to the crown. When his fingers kissed the metal, he felt the same shock he did when he died. Danny collapsed.
When Danny opened his eyes again, the crown was gone. His left arm felt sore and itchy in his veins. He could feel his Lichtenberg scar burn under his hazmat suit, no doubt red and angry. He scratched over them, the sensation traveling upward, deep in his veins. Danny stared back at the throne, still clutching his arm, afraid to turn his back on it anymore. He backed towards the door, slowly, like moving too fast would cause something to leap out and devour him.
He backed into something hard. The soft clanging of metal rang out as Danny turned to make eye contact with the Dark Knight. Neither of them moved for a moment as they stared each other down. Fright Knight’s form shifted, and Danny jumped back into a fighting stance, an ecto-blast burning under his skin. Fright Knight did not falter. In one swift motion…he bowed. His head down and a hand over to his once beating heart.
Danny couldn’t handle this. Everything was moving too fast, and the walls were getting closer and closer. He ran past the knight. His Knight, something whispered.
He had to get home.
★~★
When Danny made it outside the Keep, he didn’t hesitate to fly away. He felt lighter, no longer under the oppressive atmosphere of the castle (even if a part of him felt relaxed in the dark halls). He looked back, only once. A part of him wanted to return, to go back to the throne room and put on the...Danny shook out of the thought. Must be a ghost thing.
His ghostly form felt different. He was lighter and able to fly faster than he was before. All things to think about later.
The Ghost Zone was constantly shifting, but Danny was able to feel where he was supposed to go. It hadn’t always been like that, every ghost knew their way around the Realms, despite it always moving. It wasn’t as obvious to him when he first ‘died’. He had to rely on other means like the spectral speeder or infi-map until he could recognize the patterns (even that wasn’t perfect). From what he could tell, Vlad had similar issues, although he was too proud to admit it. But now? Now Danny knew where to go. It wasn’t a guess or a gut feeling, but if someone had just asked him where his bedroom was.
He could feel the Ghost Zone now, too. His fingers felt the wisps of the realm flow through them like it was a stream going around rocks. He could feel how the Zone breathed and moved, like it was rolling around in its sleep. Had the other ghosts felt this too? He felt like it was a part of himself, his core humming with the melodic rise and fall of the Zone.
(Maybe it was humming with him).
His flying slowed as he calmed down. He had never felt so at peace before. Not at home or otherwise. It was easy to get distracted, to just float along the current of existence here.
But he couldn’t.
He didn’t know how long he was dead asleep for. He had to get home. To see Sam and Tucker and Jazz. To make sure everyone was still safe.
The Ghost Zone seemed to nod to him. He felt something shift in front of him. There was no portal, just a light behind a crack. Slowly, he dug his fingers in and ripped it apart like saran wrap. He could hear cars and the bustle of a city beyond.
He was going home.
#dp#danny phantom#dp fic#dp crossover#dp cross#dp x bnha#danny phantom x my hero academia#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#mha#bnha#danny fenton#ghost king#ghost king danny#fright knight#dp fright knight
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Movie Diary 2022
And here's my movie diary for 2022. Once again, these are the movies that I watched for the first time this year - no rewatches. And despite seeing Top Gun: Maverick a total of 17 times this year, I managed to see 113 other movies (3 more than 2021!).
As always, my favorites are bolded.
1 Belle
2 Encanto
3 Don't Look Up
4 Sing 2
5 Ghostbusters: Afterlife
6 Stephen King: A Necessary Evil
7 New Gods: Nezha Reborn
8 A Hero
9 In The Heights
10 Riders of Justice
11 Shiva Baby
12 Bigbug
13 Being the Ricardos
14 Lunana: A Yak in the Classroom
15 Nightmare Alley
16 The Worst Person in the World
17 Parallel Mothers
18 The Adam Project
19 Turning Red
20 Bright Night (Nachthelle)
21 Spencer
22 Cheaper by the Dozen (2022)
23 Coda
24 The Monkey King: Reborn
25 Moonshot
26 Skyscraper
27 Dein Leben gehört mir
28 The Bubble
29 The Bad Guys
30 The Karate Kid
31 Stand by Me
32 The Karate Kid Part II
33 Uncharted
34 The Karate Kid Part III
35 The Outfit
36 The Batman
37 Everything Everywhere All at Once
38 So Close
39 Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness
40 Our Father
41 White Hot: The Rise & Fall of Ambercrombie & Fitch
42 The Tragedy of Macbeth
43 Mostly Minimalistic (Alles in bester Ordnung)
44 Official Competition
45 Licorice Pizza
46 Song Lang
47 Pariah
48 Love My Life (2006)
49 The Unbearable Wight of Massive Talent
50 Fire Island
51 Show Me Love
52 I Care a Lot
53 Top Gun
54 Benedetta
55 Top Gun: Maverick
56 Crush
57 Paris, 13th District
58 Jerry & Marge Go Large
59 Thor: Love & Thunder
60 Chip'n Dale: Rescue Rangers
61 The Bob's Burgers MOvie
62 The Sea Beast
63 The Affairs of Julia
64 Broker
65 Z-O-M-B-I-E-S 2
66 The Lost City
67 Prey
68 Decision to Leave
69 Nope
70 The Roundup
71 DC League of Super-Pets
72 Emergency Declaration
73 The Client
74 Jerry Maguire
75 Do Revenge
76 Z-O-M-B-I-E-S 3
77 Risky Business
78 Titane
79 Losin' It
80 Bodies Bodies Bodies
81 Raw
82 War Dogs
83 X
84 Black Adam
85 Valkyrie
86 Bone Tomahawk
87 Pearl
88 Ginger Snaps
89 Bros
90 The Innocents (2021)
91 See How They Run
92 Weird: The Al Yankovic Story
93 Enola Holmes 2
94 Three Thousand Years of Longing
95 Black Panther: Wakanda Forever
96 Ticket to Paradise
97 The Wonder
98 The Menu
99 Collateral
100 Cha Cha Real Smooth
101 Footloose (2011)
102 My Father's Dragon
103 Eastern Promises
104 Interview with the Vampire
105 Moon-young
106 Bullet Train
107 Oblivion
108 War of the Worlds
109 Herman Kills!
110 Troll
111 Bleed for This
112 Argentina, 1985
113 Meet the Parents
114 Meet the Fockers
115 Avatar: The Way of Water
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hey, how are you? i was wondering if you could recommend some good wlw movies? thanks!
hello! good question, i have a love for period dramas so a lot of stuff i watch is period drama wlw stories and often they are pretty tragic. i know the film industry is sort of oversaturated with wlw period dramas, and specifically about white women, but i have a fond appreciation for the genre and would welcome a lot more about specifically women of colour. so a few of my favourites would be the world to come, the handmaiden, summerland, passing, portrait of a lady on fire, vita & virginia, the favourite, dating amber. modern movies would be crush (even though the writing was pretty awful at times w/ regards to the straight characters???), disobedience, anne+, the half of it, everything everywhere all at once (not specifically wlw but i did appreciate how that was included in the story a lot), thelma, pariah.. gonna watch saving face later today i think!
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September Sky Chapter Eight, Part Five
"My personality is super addictive, and soon I had a collection of razor blades and long sleeve shirts I wore everywhere. I didn't want people to see them. I still don't want people to even see the scars. It was never for attention.. I didn't want to hear it from anybody. My family, or the few people that didn't treat me like a pariah." I continued on with the story of my self-mutilation. Not once did Addison break contact. She watched me as I spoke. I wanted to tell her I loved her, right then and there, but that wasn't part of the story. And getting this out was more important than my need to declare love.
Addison kept her face blank the whole time. I guess I kind of preferred that. I didn't want to see the reactions of one of the worst points of my entire life.
"Eventually, it cultimated to the scars on my wrists. I failed, but I did succeed in the first of many grippy sock vacations."
"Grippy sock vacations?" Addison's voice scared me a little bit. She'd been quiet for so long. I just wasn't prepared.
"Asylum. I call it the ward."
"So you tried to kill yourself?" Her words came out in a lazy trail. The kind inflection that loses steam half-way threough the words.
"Yea, I did. Everything sucked. At least according to my fucked up teenage pysche. I had no real friends, my parents split, I was trapped in a place where there was no way I could ever fit in. I fucking hate farms."
"I can't imagine that feeling."
"Don't even try. I hope you never have to feel that way about anything. I hope nobody on this planet has to feel that way." There was always remnants of the past, and the day I attempted suicide. left a major mark on me, even years later. I became somewhat of an advocate to help anybody else. I always wondered if I had even had just one person, i might not have down a razor blade down the road.
"So I got sent to the ward. I was there for a little over month. I got my first of many diagnosises. We started off small with MDD, major depressive disorder, and generalized anxiety disorder. Way wrong."
"So did the ward help? I mean with the self-mutilation thing? Was that the list time?" Her eyes were beautiful and sad, and I felt like I had just gotten a stray cat to let me pet it. As I told ehr the story, her face moved and expressed itself again. It was off a switch had been flipped to on inside her head. Now she was just plain old curious.
"The ward itself? Not really. It was more the people in there. The doctors who actually gave a shit. It was the last time I did the self-harm thing for a long time, but I did find myself sucked back into a few years ago, but that relapse didn't stick." I said. The story was told. And I swear, I could feel the heavy weight carried by that dark period, I felt it crumble off. It was a strange feeling. The only other person I've really talked to about this stuff was my therapist, and that was only because it's part of my history, and therefore part of my present and my future.
"There has to be some interesting people." She stated, just asking questions without making it seem like I was being interviewed. I've said it once, I'll probably say it a million more times. She could've made a great therapist.
I laughed. "Yeah, there were. You see some real crazies in those places. Well, at least the one I went to. It wasn't really the classiest of places."
"Crazies?" She said, accusingly but quickly lost the seriousness when she giggled.
"Yeah. I'm one of them so I can call them that." I laughed.
"Oh, really? That's how that works?" She smiled up at me, and it was like watching the moment of the big bang's explosion, just slowed down to appreciate the beauty in it all. Again, I loved her. I wanted desperatly to tell her I loved her, and I just wouldn't do it. I couldn't. I didn't even really know what we really were, when I thought about it. I hadn't really thought about it either. This whole thing seemed so easy and gradual and right, that I never paid attention to the time.
"Yes. Yes it is."
It was silent again for a few moments. Somewhere outside, someone shouted something. There was no response.
"It's hard to believe," she whispered.
"What is?" I asked, slightly confused.
"I mean, if you didn't have the evidence. I just can't picture you like that,"she spoke as though she was lost in her thoughts. "It's too different from how you are since I've known you."
"I'm pretty sure that's a good thing."
"It is, very much so. Still, it's kind of sad."
"Nope. Not sad. No use being depressed over an act of depression."
"It is sad. It's not a happy thing."
"Why can't it be? Instead of looking at the action, look at the results. I stopped. That's a pretty happy thing, I think. I don't want to think of that period as this awful dark place. I mean, it is, don't get me wrong. But I look at where I am after the beating, and I've always managed to get back on my feet and just get ready for the next round. I may be quiet. I may be antisocial. I may be extremely introverted, but that doesn't mean I'm just taking punches. I made it through that. I can make it through this." I said, not realizing I had said so many words. And as soon as I realized, that feeling of insecurity came over me. I talked to long, or I rambled. The thoughts made their ugly heads known and were impossible to ignore. Anxiety crept it's way in to join the party.
"I actually kind of like that. It's a good philosophy."
"It's something."
She pointed at her lips and I bent down and kissed them, and then flicked off the light and curled up beside me. I lay awake for a while, waiting for my meds to kick in. And eventually they did, weighing down my lids as I drifted into a quiet and dreamless sleep.
* * * *
#fiction#artists on tumblr#writing#my writing#spilled words#writers on tumblr#poets and writers#writeblr#creative writing#writerscommunity#writerscorner#writer#literature#punkrocksoapoperas#cynic#punk rock soap operas#free form#Stories#autobiographical fiction#art#aspiringauthor#howispentmysummervacation#september sk
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Have you watched Barbie? Organized Stream of Consciousness
(The following is an email I sent to my old political theory professor, small details are adjusted to maintain anonymity and provide additional clarity)
Hey Professor!
Great chatting a couple of weeks ago! I’m proud to announce in my funemployment era; I am taking a gap year with intentions of pursuing a PhD in psychology.
It’s only been a few days, but I feel like I’ve never made a more correct decision in my life. Corporate America didn’t really make sense for me long-term; I took a lot of lessons from it about how exactly the shadows on the wall work, but I was in denial about how I should relate to them. At a certain point I felt I wanted to liberate everyone in my company, and I got really good at it too. I caught myself being a leader who could orchestrate collective action in precise, powerful, and loving ways, which was daunting but also beautiful. However, where I landed is with a confidence in my abilities which I’ve never felt before, and a vision of myself as a change maker that makes a lot more sense as a voice in academia (one that is accessible to those outside of it as well).
That update aside, did you see the Barbie movie/have you been paying attention to the discourse around it? It’s another in a series of recent content that are basically reinterpretations of The Matrix (thinking of Everything Everywhere All At Once as well as Wandavision) which in turn strike me as reinterpretations of Plato’s Cave.
Perhaps it may sound overly ambitious to some, but being underly ambitious feels boring: I think we’re on the verge of a mass cultural awakening. The energy around us has been different. AI has been causing existential crises left and right (looking at writers’ strikes and the general ways these companies are licking their lips with the intention of further “cutting costs” without care for their fellow humans). People are contemplating the smallness of this life, getting perspective for how cultural constraints we hold as central to our worldview are actually shadows on the wall. They’re imagining how life can be different, and in turn they’ll soon start creating it.
And that’s distressing in a lot of cases, dealing with what we’ve all repressed head on. But I feel like this can be a loving revolution. I know that sounds full hippy but like, I think if people begin to enter public discourse as individuals who talk like “real” people (this is shade at the politicians, the academics, etc) and do that from a place of love instead of a place of fear (and that’s shade at Donald Trump, Elon Musk, etc) the world will open up in profound ways.
I think people struggle with this because they feel it’s inauthentic, and that’s where we get into philosophy of the self. Namely, what kind of foolish pride tells us that making ourselves accessible waters down our identity? I think of entering that philosophy chat community where, no shade at them, I was making better points than a lot of them, but because I didn’t speak their language with the precision they wanted me to they treated me like I was dumb. And it’s funny, some of them did try to argue with me, some were open to my ideas, but generally speaking, among these individuals seeking enlightenment I was branded a pariah by certain members of the community because my approach to communication was unorthodox and I used chat gpt as a means of helping me think critically and speedily (and I know it’s very imperfect, but when used correctly and critically it’s an incredible philosophical calculator).
And I was still nice to them, because I’m bored of contributing to cycles of mutual disdain, and I’ve found that when I’m unapologetically weird and unapologetically nice at the same time I awaken a version of individuals that they thought they left behind at the playground in elementary school.
I say all of that to say, my vision of the future, which I believe is coming and which I’m eager to take part of, is a movement of radical forgiveness, kindness, and an appreciation for the intrinsic wisdom in others that we usually overlook because we don’t relate to them. I think some central frontiers for this movement will be dramatic prison reform, the decentralization of college education as the only means of achieving “success” in a lot of American minds, and maybe even the 2024 Democratic primary (I think Marianne Williamson is playing on something interesting and has generational tides in her favor. Plus Joe Biden is kinda stubborn and uninspiring, I think he’s about to RBG the Democratic establishment).
i could be wrong, I often am! I hope I’m not too far off though. I’ll do what I can to facilitate that world without overextending myself as well :)
Thanks for your time!
Your Student,
Rivenso
#barbie#greta gerwig#philosophy#positivity#writing#BarbieMovie#MatrixReinterpretation#PlatosCave#CulturalAwakening#AIInfluence#ExistentialCrisis#ChangeMaker#Academia#PhilosophyOfSelf#PhilosophyChat#GapYear#KindnessRevolution#PrisonReform#HigherEducation#2024DemocraticPrimary
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