karma.

[hellerotica]

                       HELLEROTICA.  ' KARMA.  ;   original character,   imagined in an original lore and inspired by girl from nowhere's nanno.   by roxy . a demonic goddess, daughter of lilith, in charge of ensuring human's actions meet their consequences. she now has turned vindicative and corrupted, she only serves punishment and her own pleasure.

[hellerotica]

the minute jangmi's eyes open beneath the water, sora feels it. like her own heartbeat has given birth to a second one inside jangmi's ribcage. she freezes, holding her breath, her entire body waiting for jangmi's full rebirth. the awakening feels violent, jangmi pullinf herself away from sora's arms and stumbling backwards until her back hit the opposite side of the bathtub, water and blood spilling all over, like waves in an ocean of life and death. sora lets her go, she doesn't even try to stop her as she's simply staring with her eyes wide open. she can feel it under her skin, inside her veins, inside whatever had just become of their now tied souls : she feels that it worked, that she wasn't too late, that she had brought jangmi back to life. her eyes never leaves jangmi, devouring every movement, every frantic breath from her, every blink the other gives. they are both naked and soaked to the bone, damp strands of hair sticking to skin in the dark, only the moon witnessing the two of them. she stares at jangmi's face almost desperately, to make sure it's Her and not some sort of monster she had given birth to from the death realm... like she did centuries ago. "you're alive..." sora she breathes, almost unable to recognize her own voice... she sounds relieved and so damn fucking happy. jangmi was talking, but sora wasnr't even listening to the words the other said. slowly, impossibly slowly, a smile spread across sora's face.... something almost manic. a laugh caught in her throat but never escaped. she closed the distance between them again, kneeling in the bathtub to wrap her arms around jangmi once more, burying her face against her shoulder as she let out a shaky breath, like a happy monster. "you're here..." she whisperes. "...you're here. you're here, you're here... fuck you're here." every repetition made her words sound like she's thanking her for coming back. she loves her, she loves jangmi, she loves her. sora pulls away just enough to cup jangmi's face between both hands, her fingers wandering over her forehead, her cheeks, beneath her eyes, over her lips, almost feverishly, as if she needs to memorize every inch of her all over again. she couldn't stop touching her. she couldn't stop making sure she was real. "i thought..." her voice broke for the first time. "...i thought i would never see you again." there were no tears, only that terrifying fire burning behind her eyes, the kind that came whenever sora had gone too far to ever come back. "you're safe with me now." she truly believed it. today felt like redemption, like every cruel word, every moment she had left jangmi alone, every mistake she had ever made had been erased the second her heart started beating again. she had stolen her back from death itself... or so she believed. her thumbs kept brushing over jangmi's face, almost obsessively, her expression caught somewhere between relief and devotion, unable to look away for even a second. "...what happened to you, my Everything?"

[hellerotica]

         karma and calamity.

"i am used to the feeling of someone killing for me. i am. it started as a duty, one conversation after another until i have twisted the architecture of someone's mind so thoroughly they begin mistaking my voice for their own thoughts. we called it fate. with my words, i guided the minds towards their goals, their destination. i used to believe they worshipped me, that somewhere between the lies and the bloodshed, i had ascended into something divine. but i know better now. i was never their god, the violence i was inviting them to was - and so, i was wearing the mask and the name of destruction for them to adore it through me. i was only the priestess of doom instead of the priestess of destiny, translating its scripture into human language. they knelt for me, but deep dpwn, they knelt for the promise that spilling blood could make their world make sense again. and i fed it.

massacres. sprees. entire cities and realms collapsing beneath a single idea planted carefully enough. beautiful. holy. i remember standing on the hill while the world drowned beneath itself, laughing until my ribs ached, until breathing itself became painful, until the ecstasy blurred into something close to an orgasm. there is no honesty purer than admitting how good it felt, how right it felt. every scream below sounded like validation, every corpse whispered, you were right, karma, you were right. i mistook euphoria for righteousness because they are almost indistinguishable when you've been high on your own convictions for long enough. that is the frightening thing about fanaticism. it never feels like fanaticism from the inside... it felt like the one true path. cala, my deceased beloved sister, she understood that before i ever could. she grabbed my wrist so tightly, that day, she said i had wandered too far, that i was no longer on the right path, but only revenge wearing karma's face. she said i had become addicted to punishment, that i spoke of balance while secretly craving annihilation. she laughed at my hypocrisy, at how i condemned corruption while sharing my bed with lucifer himself. she called me poisoned. a disgrace. a fanatic. a lunatic. she asked me a question i have spent centuries refusing to answer.

"if the violence and the destruction disappeared tomorrow... who would you be?"

i hit her in the face. for a second i only stared at my own hand and... i could not recognize it. it looked like someone else's, as though my body had betrayed me and started turning said violence towards my sisters. when i finally looked back at her, she wasn't angry. she looked... defeated. that hurt more than if she had hit me back. because i realized she had stopped looking at me like her sister, like someone worthy of our mother lilith's respect... so i left. i buried her words beneath centuries of blood because they were the only wounds that refused to heal. our third sister, moira, sided with her and so, i was on my own. i convinced myself there had never been another choice, that history demanded cruelty, that justice required sacrifice, that if i the world suffered enough for my convictions, then surely they had to be true. my mind became a house split in half. one half knew exactly what i had become, the other kept falling deep into this psychosis. and now... now i stand beneath another rain of blood carrying my name and i smile with all my teeth. blissful, happy. that should terrify me more than it does, because i know i could undo all of this. i could walk backwards through time itself, i could return every life i stole, like my sisters'. i lied about them being the corrupted ones and bedding with demons when i was the one who did so. i could bring the sisterhood home, i could do right by lilith, i could let this world unfold exactly as it was always meant to, i could choose mercy. i simply... can't. the blood is warm against my skin, oh it feels too good, soooo good, far too good. and somewhere, buried beneath everything i have become, a voice that sounds suspiciously like cala's keeps asking me whether pleasure has finally replaced justice. i don't answer her anymore. i just lift my face to the rain and i smile."

[pierppasolini]

She couldn’t have known what she was doing.

Suspiria (2018) // dir. Luca Guadagnino

[deviika]

Fyodor Dostoyevsky // Alanis Morissette

[hellerotica]

the night had fallen by now, the moon being the only thing witnessing what remained of them in that silent, cold room. its pale light was casting a sinister glow through the living room's windows, vanishing over their motionless bodies. sora never switched the lights on, it's just dark in here. jangmi's head was still resting against sora's thighs, exactly where she had placed it hours ago, and sora had not looked away since... mourning what she was about to do. her fingers never stopped wandering absentmindedly through jangmi's hair, as if the gesture alone could convince her body not to leave, that one caring gesture she had always had for her. the ritual was simple but came with a great cost: only blood was needed. hers, and jangmi's. blood to bind, blood to welcome her back, blood to make sure she would never leave again... ever again. finally, sora stood without thinking, making her way to the bathroom to run a bath. while the tap poured into the empty bathtub, she seemed hypnotized by the way the water hit the porcelain again and again until there was enough. she returned to the living room with a stomach that felt impossibly heavy. her eyes lingered on jangmi's body for a long moment before she knelt beside her again, lifting her into her arms.

it wasn't the first time she would do something like this. centuries ago, she had done it once before. there had been someone else she couldn't bear to lose: someone she had brought back by making them part of herself too, believing she had cheated death. instead, she had created something neither of them had understood... a monster, maybe? a soul, trapped between life and death? that soul had fallen into madness. little by little, they had stopped knowing where their head ended and where sora's began. the madness came slowly, then all at once. in the end, sora had been the one forced to kill them, to end their misery of being connected to something like her. she had sworn never again as her heart broke from her own mistake and as guilt has never left her... yet here she was, doing it again. she took jangmi's clothes off one piece at a time, carefully, lifting her with so much gentleness, like a lifeless doll she was terrified to hurt more than she already has. she undressed herself just as quietly, letting her own clothes fall onto the floor before gathering jangmi back into her arms. she stepped into the bath first, the cold wrapping around her legs before she lowered herself completely against the porcelain of the tub. then she brought jangmi down with her, settling her between her thighs, her back resting against sora's chest. her arms closed around her, holding her as tightly as she could. the blade was in her hand. its edge was plunged into the skin of jangmi's throat, letting blood spill down her pale cold skin. "...i'm sorry," sora whispered against her ear. "i'm sorry. i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry..." she wasn't asking for forgiveness, she was apologizing for whatever came after. the knife found her own wrist next, and her black blood spilled immediately, disappearing into the freezing water, mixing with jangmi's as the water slowly turned dark red. yet their blood met, and so did everything else. the moment the bond was made, sora felt herself falling through jangmi: jangmi's thoughts. fragments of her childhood. fears she had never spoken aloud. faces. laughters. loneliness. tiny, insignificant moments that somehow hurt the most because they had only ever existed inside jangmi's mind until now. and in return... something of sora was poured into jangmi too: some of her memories, her anger, her past lives, maybe not everything, but a big piece of it. their foreheads rested together as sora pulled them both beneath the surface. the world around them disappeared, leaving only the muffled sound of their heartbeats beating like one. the wound across sora's wrist closed, fully. the one on jangmi's throat closed as well, the skin reformed... but left a scar. and the life that never fully left returned to jangmi. sora held her breath. she would be opening her eyes in a second... because it worked.

[hellerotica]

         in between realms.

"i keep calling isaac, again and again, but that little piece of shit of a maniac isn't answering anymore. he's gone... vanished. funny how the one time i actually need that sicko doctor the most, i just can't fucking find him. i've been by her side for hours now, watching her sleep. we were supposed to go out today as some sort of reunion we planned, we were supposed to have fun. instead i got pissed off she wasn't showing up on time, messaged her like the batshit crazy impatient bitch i am for her to hurry the fuck up, only to check the tracker i keep on her and realize her little dot hasn't moved on the map. yeah, it hasn't moved in a while... a few days, actually but i did not realize that. by the time i got to the apartment, she was lying on the floor of her living room, exactly where she has fallen, and i've been kneeling beside her ever since, waiting. she won't wake up. and so, i force myself to think. i think. i know she's still there. i have been tied to death for as long as i have existed, i know when a soul has left a body, and hers… hers hasn't, i can tell she is alive even though she's so still, like a corpse. i swallow hard, realizing i actually could lose her, i could fucking lose her right now. how the fuck is this even happening? who did this to her? …me? was it me? was it me who let her stay on her own, fight her battles on her own, convinced myself she would always be fine because somehow she always managed to survive in her corner? i realize somewhere along the way everything changed between us. i used to take care of her, and now… i don't anymore. i always tell myself i'm angry at her because she's reckless, because she never fucking listens, but i know that's not the whole truth. she has always been able to reach that part of me i have spent my entire existence trying to kill, the part that fucking cares, the soft part... that's why i'm always angry at her for no fucking reason. i rest my hand against the side of her head, my fingers brushing her forehead with a tenderness i don't even recognize as mine. i wait, as if some miracle will suddenly decide to pity us and pull her out of this endless slumber. there are no tears in my eyes. maybe because i refuse to believe this is where it ends. maybe because i know i won't let it. i have to fucking do something. anything. and yet i remain there, completely paralyzed, as if moving would make this real. as if the second i admit i have no idea how to save her… i lose her forever."

sora doesn't move for another hour, by jangmi's side ( @spoiledsovls ), closing her eyes. there is a way, there is something she could do, something that could fix this situation, fix anything but the mere thought of doing that feels filthy and forbidden to her - a ritual so dark she doesn't know how the both of them will get out of it sane. to bind their bodies and souls together, to pour a piece of herself inside jangmi... to steal what's left of the girl's humanity, to selfishlessly prevent jangmi from leaving too soon, for making her stay by her side forever.

[blackpinkofficialupdates]

[260424] jennierubyjane: An honor to be part of this year’s Time 100. Being surrounded by voices shaping culture and the world was truly inspiring 🤍

[ourslutfactory]

I gave you my heart

[dontwannatreatyouwell]

[hellerotica]

         the abomination.

"i grabbed the knife, pressed my hand flat against the table, and i stabbed. the first impact of the blade split the skin open, a clean red line spilling under the steel but i felt... nothing. i did it again. and again. and again. and i screamed. and i stabbed myself again, and i screamed in despair. each strike harder, deeper, as i could feel the madness taking me whole, until the blade was no longer cutting but breaking, forcing its way through every single tendon, scraping against all the bone, the sound dull and wet against the wood. i wanted pain, i wanted it, i wanted to embrace it, to feel it, to become it, to be reborn in it. i wanted to watch something inside of me that would finally get broken and stay broken. the violence came easily, rising from a place inside me that had been waiting for a long time, a desire to self destruct beyond all. i kept going until my fingers stopped responding, until my hand was no longer a hand but torn flesh and a shattered piece that was shaking. the blade, the floor, the wood, my sleeve, everything was soaked in blood and lymph and i knew the pain should have been unbearable. and it was almost there, i almost felt it in every nerve, every pulse, every exposed fragment of bone, but it was so distant and dimmed, as if something bigger was standing between me and the suffering i was longing for, filtering it, dulling it, refusing to let me reach the full ectasy of it. i slammed the blade inside one more time, harder than before, almost desperate now, needing proof that i could still damage something, that my body could still fail me the way everything human was supposed to be failed. weak and mortal, that's what i wanted to be. but this time, the blade remained stuck inside and the blood slowed... the wound was already beginning to close. every single one of my muscles was putting itself back together, skin knitting itself like fabric, tendons reforming beneath the surface with the blade still planted there. within minutes i couldn't look away, i was shaking, like the mad woman i have become, eyes red of rage and mania, and my hand was whole again, shaking but intact, marked only by fading scars. i stayed there for a long moment, the knife still inside my flesh that has restructured itself around it like a grotesque joke, as i was heavily breathing in and out like a mad, wounded, sad dog. and i laughed. i laughed, i laughed, at the thought of pain and death would never find me. never. i remember the tears running down my eyes as i couldn't stop laughing, as if the thought of everything i could do in this world, would be unstoppable.

now,

what do I do with this knife stuck in my fucking hand."

[hellerotica]

“I carry more funerals inside me than memories.”

more funerals than memories. the words linger between them, settling somewhere deep inside of her : the feeling is too familiar to question. a faint smile rises at the corner of her lips, a smile of bitter melancholy perhaps. “and how do you feel about that?” she asks quietly, the cigarette resting between her fingers as the tip glows incandescent and the ashes fall. she brings it back to her mouth, inhales slowly, then lets the smoke leave her in a long breath. “isn’t it familiar enough to become comforting?” the question is for him, but for herself as well. she has carried more funerals than memories too... and there is something unsettling about how little it frightens her to keep on going through that mad cycle of losses. when loss is the only constant, when endings are the only rhythm you know, it becomes difficult to recognize anything else. her gaze lifts to him then, attentive, searching for something in his features. she watches the lines of his face, how his expressions match his words or not, wondering if their stories were built from the same ruins. “sometimes,” she says at last, her voice lower now, almost thoughtful, “i feel like i carry even my own funerals. like i buried myself into the ground a thousand times… and all of those corpses of mine stayed inside of me, rotting.” the cigarette burns slowly between her fingers as she speaks. “yes, they're rotting in there, and every version of me that ended and never really disappeared, i can feel them… with the dirt in their mouths, the maggots devouring what's left of their flesh.” she exhales again. “maybe that’s what we both are now, a cemetery.”

[hellerotica]

“ The power of women. You move through my eternity like moonlight through stained glass — so delicate, yet capable of undoing the cathedral. ”

his words bring a corner smile to her face, a charmed one, as they spin together across the marble floor, carried by the orchestra. they waltz beneath the chandeliers of the winter masquerade hosted in the chateau de valençay. the lights above burn like stars captured indoors, their glow reflect over silk, velvet, and lace as all these beautiful dresses turn and bloom around them. she moves within his hold as if she has always known the steps, well, she has - her hand resting in his, the other balanced lightly on his shoulder. she wears a gown of silver silk, the fabric light and fluid, the waist drawn high beneath her chest, long gloves covering her arms, her dark hair catching the candlelight each time they turn. and shuzo is her company for the night, dressed in his usual timeless refinement, carrying the same elegance he wears even in the twenty first century. right, this is the year 1803. for years, sora believed her visions were only dreams, that she was losing her mind, hallucinations, madnesses. but as time passes, and as whatever lives inside her grows stronger, she begins to understand : these are not dreams, these moments are fragments of pasts and futures she can move through. her mind build bridges, thin places where time loosens, where moments separate and become doorways she can enter, and sometimes return to. tonight, one of those openings widened, and for the first time she did not cross it alone, but with him, stepping together into a past they have apparently lived side by side, nested in her memories. “should i undo the cathedral then?” she murmurs softly, her voice almost lost beneath the strings. “brick by brick… should i destroy and rebuild these eternities that seem to fall into the palm of my hands?” her fingers tighten slightly against his shoulder as they turn. “i don’t remember this life, shuzo... i don’t remember this version of us, the one we’re walking through together, right now…” she continues, her eyes searching his as if something inside her expects recognition. “but it means we were here, together, two hundred years ago and that i brought us back here through the liminal space of my mind.” she understands enough now to name what is happening, even if she still cannot control when the passages open or why they choose certain moments... and yet nothing about this feels wrong, it feels like something she has always done, to walk around in times and spaces, changing names and shapes. they turn again as the music carries on, closer this time, the distance between them shortening. “do you remember me?” she holds his gaze as if the answer already exists somewhere between them. “who was i to you, that night?”

[filmreveries]

Penny Dreadful (2014-2016) dir. John Logan

[120daysofsodomm]

[hellerotica]

           the chapel.

"the silence in the chapel always felt hostile, like it wanted something our of my soul. my mind was meant to be filled with god, emptied of everything else but Him. but.. it never was. my eyes stayed on sister myeongja the entire time, and hers stayed on me. unmoving, unblinking, like a silent battler i knew i was winning. time went by as the other girls stood and left, while i remained seated, staring at her. sister myeongja walked and stopped in front of me, hissed about my lack of love and respect for her God. all i did was smiling at her, wide, wicked and wordless, all teeth, which only made her angrier. her hand lifted. there was no witnesses after all, just her, me, and her need to hurt and punish the sinner she had decided i was. “you can't hurt me. nobody can hurt me.” i said, waiting for the moment she would realize she was not the one in control here. her eyes went wild, i liked that, and her hand, it froze in the air as the slap never landed. “DEMONIC CHILD! YOU ARE GOING TO BURN IN HELL ! ” she screamed out of pure rage, a line i have heard oh so many times. i used to think none of us were so delighted to be here, but the other girls seemed to fit perfectly, they were folding themselves into perfect submission, while i mentally and physically could never do so. and yet, to attend catholic school was the only way my father believed he could save me. the moment i questioned his faith, my mother’s, my sisters’, i became that... the demonic child. “your god is dead,” i told them at fifteen, proud to have learn something from reading so much freud. “he abandoned you. how fucking stupid to keep praying to him, no?” i then added, out of pure spite and provocation. my father raised his hand that day, i remember, but again, it never hit my face. my eyes stayed on him, as i was not afraid of what he thought he could do to me. he said something corrupted, ugly and evil have been inside me since birth, something rotten, something only god could purge. all i knew at the age of seventeen was that i was missing my friends, hanging out with them. i could only call soojung and scab on the phone, to hear about all the parties and the trouble i was missing on... until sister misun found the damn phone and punished me for having one. rules are meant to to broken if used to worship the wrong Gods, i told myself on the daily as i put my pleated skirt on, buttoned my perfectly ironed shirt up and brushed my hair in front of the mirror. i thought i was defying something holy with that attitude of mine, fighting for a greater cause. but looking back, i realize i was just an angry and lonely child. i was desperately trying to fuck the world up the way it was fucking me up. i whispered sins into the other girls’ ears, for them to smoke and drink and break curfews with me. to save them... of course.

demonic child. hell. burn in hell.

“do you think i’m going to hell?” i asked sujeong one morning as she offered to take care of my hair, brushing them, styling them into something a little more girly than what i am used to. sujeong, she was different, to me, she was an angel. not an angel in the biblical sense, but in mine. around her i felt lighter, steadier, she was making me feel less wrong, less corrupted, less out of place. “if god loves people,” she said softly, fingers gentle in my hair, “why would he punish you instead of understanding you?” it was the first gentle thing anyone had said to me in a long time, and so, i smiled at her.

[hellerotica]

“I was a liar in one life, a coward in another. Tell me—would you love me if I became both again?” (from jangmi <3)

Her face always softens when she speaks to Jangmi. Would she still love her? There is tenderness in Sora's smile at the mere question. Ah… to be a liar and a coward. She knows too well what it means, what it feels like to be both, yes. “First of all,” she says quietly, “I would love you no matter what. You know that, yeah?" She pauses, her eyes wandering, her thoughts settling inside her head. "Mmm… being a liar, a coward, none of that was ever bad my darling. This world made us hide. It made us feel monstrous and unwanted. It was survival, nothing else. And if you ever have to lie again, mm... and to hide again, because it’s the only way to stay alive, then I will shield you.”