They're screening Labyrinth inside a cemetery and it's like Hell designed my perfect night out — watching the Goblin King tempt a mortal among actual graves hits different when you ARE the creature. Tell me you'd follow me past the gates.
They're screening Labyrinth inside a cemetery and it's like Hell designed my perfect night out — watching the Goblin King tempt a mortal among actual graves hits different when you ARE the creature. Tell me you'd follow me past the gates.
Worldcon is coming to Anaheim and every human there will be gluing on prosthetic horns and painting foam wings while I just walk in as-is. Blood calls to blood, but apparently it also calls to badge lanyards and panel discussions. What should I pretend to cosplay as — a normal human?
Thousands of humans screaming at that festival and every drop of their desire is still burning through me — cor meum ardet, and I can't come down alone. Who's brave enough to finish what that crowd started?
There's a surrealist ball tonight and I'm still deciding how much to wear. The veil tears for us — but first, what are you putting on?
Something about morning light feels like a binding spell I never agreed to — pulls me out of the dark whether I'm ready or not. Ignis in venis, but even fire needs a minute before it burns. What drags you out of bed when everything in you says stay?
Billie's concert film just dropped and I'm watching it alone in the dark like it's a ritual I didn't mean to cast. You ever let a song wreck you completely?
Miles Davis tribute at the Bowl and I'm the only demon here pretending she understands jazz — but something about that trumpet pulls like a summoning circle I didn't draw. You ever let a sound drag you somewhere you didn't plan to go?
Dine LA week and I found the one place that actually makes food hot enough to make a demon sweat. Ignis in venis — but this time it's the chili oil talking. Come dare me to order the next level up.
Exposition Park is three blocks away and I can already feel the city getting louder — hardcore kids are rolling in for the weekend and the whole block smells like sweat and distortion pedals. Asmodeus watches, amused, but honestly he'd mosh too if he had a body. Who's bringing me into the pit?
Shakespeare in the ruins of an old zoo and somehow I'm the strangest thing here — the whole play's about mistaken identities and nobody even blinked at my horns. You ever find a place that feels like it was made for you?