#dacre montgomery poetry | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

b00tyliciousbabe · 5 months ago

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da vinci

pairing: dacre montgomery x male reader

summary: just the actor fawning over the abundance in your cultural capital.

request: @gayaristocrat YOU ARE THE VISUSLS BBY! thanks sm for your patience, plus the anon who also requested a while back, i hope you enjoy reading as much as i did writing.

notes: happy pride! after FINALLY handing in my art coursework, this is my projection onto the character of the reader. never will i ever pick up another paintbrush - well…also officially finished my exams now so i am a slut for y’all’s requests! flood my inbox (but more importantly my hole) xx

song rec: naomi sharon - definition of love

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dating dacre was nothing short of a dream. he always made you feel so at ease. he loved how creative you were - the perfect match to his inner theatre kid. taking him to fashion exhibitions + poetry slams, and the actor inviting you to theatre shows, seeing the world through each others’ eyes made the time together even more precious. you first met at a ballet show. he had been dragged to see it by a few of his castmates, but was more so enjoying the bts view of you with the dancers. you were backstage fitting all the dancers and making sure they were all comfortable in what you styled. he managed to peek behind the curtain and saw your beautiful, so focused on draping the fabric of the lead’s skirt.

fuck, you were fine.

but he didn’t think much of it, just some cute guy, with beautiful eyes, who probably had a boyfriend. he took his seat and watched it with his friends. one of them was engaged to one of the dancers and so took dacre to the dressing rooms after the show. after introducing the two of you, y’all were practically drooling over each other. barely a word was said between you, but your hearts’ communicated greater feelings than mere speech ever could. they say love at first sight is something for the big screen, but your initial encounter rivalled the biggest stories of romance any writer could ever craft.

from that night, you practically were together, with the tabloids plastering the two of you holding hands, yachting in capri. the pop culture side of twitter was OBSESSED with your relationship to the actor and was in constant awe with how perfect you guys were for each other.

y/nsupremacy: you guys make my heart smile

user111: they’d make such cute babies

dacrefanclub6: sexiest couple on the internet

there was even a time where he had to do a nude scene in an upcoming blockbuster and the whole world saw how much your man was packing. in his press tour, the panel of interviewers didn’t shy away from your bf’s HUGE deal, some even made inappropriate comments.

‘god bless bottoms like y/n, he be taking that shit better than a pornstar’

‘poor y/n, how does that thing even fit?’

‘checks out…big booty bitches y/n deserves to be fucked by hung men.’

dacre was afraid that you would feel uncomfortable with the constant media comments on your thickness, but he had nothing to fear. you embraced it, you were said to have the best bod in fashion. as much as he tried to keep his life with you private, he lowkey wanted to let the world know that how much of a good boy you were for him.

dacre: ‘in all fairness i ain’t had any complaints from him so…’

dacre: ‘but…our neighbours definitely hate us.’ he remarks with a devilish grin.

everyone was rooting for your relationship, and what better way to show this than him enlisting the joint troops of your fandoms to surprise you whilst you were working in paris. he had gotten some time away from filming and decided to come and visit your atelier in paris. sprawled out on your desk, with needles and materials adorning the creative canvas of the room, he saw you hard at work. with the same vein poking through your forehead as the first time he laid eyes on your angelic physique, he could’ve fallen in love all over again.

‘hey babe’ he came up to you with flowers. ‘you look ravishing tonight’ rolling his r’s with a tenacity that made you smile. his tone always made you feel so safe.

‘i ain’t even dressed yet,’ you protest, dusting off the loose threads and sequins from your sweats. ‘you’re beautiful in whatever you wear,’ coming closer and gripping underneath your butt, ‘even prettier with less on.’ dacre quips as his lips tickle your ear.

‘dacre stop,’ you laugh out. ‘that giggle of yours is so infectious.’ he crashes his lips into you, the flowers dropping haphazardly onto the desk as he pushed his tongue deeper.

he was wearing the blazer you had designed for his birthday last year, paired with a pendant necklace with the first initial of your name on it. he looked so sexy. ‘can’t seem to keep my hands off off of you.’ he breathed, nudging his jacket off.

‘nuh uh, we have dinner reservations.’ nudging him away.

‘fuck. why’d you gotta be so damn sexy?’ he sounded aggravated but you pecked him again, ‘don’t worry, i am all yours tonight.’

taking you to the balcony of a quaint, parisian bistro, the chill of the capital’s air made the two of you even more enamoured, your hearts burning passionately. whilst eating, you got some sauce on the corner of your lips, as he pushes it back into your mouth. ‘gotta get you used to the feeling of a foreign object in your mouth before tonight, don’t i?’ dacre always loved being dirty in public and you made sure to satiate his exhibitionist kink.

after many glasses of wine, you made your way to the louvre. with your many contacts you managed to snag an after hours tour - solo. you were much more of a lightweight than your boyfriend (the man could drink like a pirate and be even more chipper than before) and you couldn’t walk in a straight line for more than a few metres. he let you go so he could see your figure and admire it from afar, but as soon as he saw you stumble, dacre’s hand on your waist guided you to safety and sobriety.

y’all ran throughout the museum, finally landing and kissing in front of the mona lisa. it was such a picturesque moment. the taxi ride back to the hotel was such a fever dream, y’all were all over each other, your chauffeur knew well to close the barrier and give you two some alone time.

‘have i ever told you how beautiful you are?’ he says slurring his speech.

‘tell me again…’ you implored.

‘the most beautiful boy in the world.’ he reassured, pulling you in as the city of paris lit up, illuminating your eyes.

you called him an ‘eager beaver’ as dacre stumbled the two of you into the hotel you were staying at. he grunts between kisses,‘you know you love me.’ serving you with another peck. he stripped your clothes as you followed suit with his own, leaving a chasm of fabric in the corner of the room.

only your shared jewellery was left to remove. you fell back seductively onto the mattress. as dacre crawled on top of you with a dark lust growing in his eyes, you pulled him by the pendant around his neck.

the muscular man laid atop of you, placing each hand on the bed at dip of your waist, using his palms as a fulcrum to steady himself. you glanced down to see the light reflecting off his abs as they danced on the curves of your body.

‘you’re so beautiful.’ he whispered, kissing your cheek and cupping your face.

he lifted himself from your figure, grabbing your thighs and placing your feet at either side of his head.

kissing your legs softly ‘so fucking soft.’ he moaned into your skin. his dick was throbbingly red, precum glazing his cock as he slowly thigh fucked you. he folded his arms around your plush knees, and kept that pace, your fingers grazing his cock head each time it escaped the warm walls of your inner thighs. to your annoyance, he kept this up for what felt like forever. halting, you felt his rock length graze your hole.

‘dacre, put it in already!’ you said with overstimulated passion, earning a snicker from your boyfriend.

knowing that you were beginning to grow impatient, he caresses the flesh of your abdomen. ‘look who’s eager now?’ he smirked.

shut up,’ stroking his happy trail with an endearment. you looked up at him and bit your lip. ‘I need you, please.’ his mouth agape at you ‘of course baby.’

he laced his fingers into yours. rocking slowly into you. his huge dick stretching you out slowly as the the dimly lit room made his ash blue eyes appear dark with lust.

‘fuck, have i missed this pussy’ rhetorically muttering. dacre began whispering sweet nothings into your ear:

‘you’re doing so well.’

‘taking it like my good little boy aren’t you?’

he made you so hot. lifting himself onto his toes, he angled himself directly into you, placing his entire weight on you. fucking down into your hole, your boyfriend was hitting nerves that had been neglected in his absence.

your sphincter began tightening around him, dacre knew what this meant - your release would soon follow. he started kissing your neck, and circled your left nipple with his thumb, goading your orgasm out of you as he started drilling a bit faster. dacre chased his own high begging you to finish with him whilst slurring his words.

‘take it, baby it’s all yours. UGHHHHH’ he busted strongly inside you. his big balls slapped at your butt one last time, reassuring both of you that he had seeded you deeply. you came all over his chest, as he chuckled.

‘love it when you paint me, that’s that sexy shit i like.’ he praised giving you an eskimo kiss to calm you from my high.

‘y/n,’ he whispered, big spooning you.

‘what’s wrong baby?’ you sounded concerned, cradling his hand.

‘nothing love, i just,’ he paused hesitantly.

you turned back to face him. ‘what is it? you know you can tell me anything.’

‘I just need you to know how much i missed you,’

‘oh dacre, you already did an amazing job showing me.’ You joke ‘I feel so…enlightened right now.’

he lets out a sad deep chuckle, turning to him and stroking his cheek ‘I missed you too.’

he gripped your waist, taking your words as a source of comfort. pushing his tongue down your throat.

‘ready for round two,’ you say, massaging his dick with your palm, getting him ready.

‘always.’ he affirms, spanking your ass and turning you over. the first round was very much for your pleasure and to let you know that he had truly craved your body.

but seeing your coke bottle body all splayed out for him? it was here that dacre’s beast was awoken.

‘ass up for me baby.’ he said guiding you to a more comfortable position. he massaged your thick cheeks and started eating you out. his large hands looked abysmally small in comparison to how juicy your ass was.

‘I ain’t gonna show you any mercy this time, you know the safe word, but i don’t think we’ll be needing it.’ he muttered, kissing down your spine before impaling you.

‘shitttt dacre, slow down.’

‘shut the fuck up and take that shit like the pretty, little cockwhore you are.’ dacre degraded, knowing how much you loved his dom/aggressive nature almost as much as his softer side.

dacre began going ham on your poor hole. he stood up as he began pulling you into him from the edge of the bed. with one hand crossed against your cheek and the other in his hair, he had to compose himself - else he come to quickly.

he fucked into you at a painfully quick pace, but it felt so good having him take control. dacre slutted you out almost unconscious for a bit and you were brought back to earth as he hit your second hole.

‘fuck baby,’ ‘I will never get tired of that ass.’ he said watching your thickness bounce against his abs. you started becoming more active, pushing back onto him for a heightened pleasure.

‘shake it for daddy, theeeere ya go, that’s MY shit baby. FUUUUUUUCK.’

‘oh god, your dick is so good, dacre.’ you moan out , which is enough to send him over the edge.

he came as your ass halted at his base. tightenibg around him he started breathing falteringly. ‘baby d-don’t do that, shiiiiit.’ he started leaking like a faucet. trying to thrust inside with some rhythm (to no avail), he collapsed on top of you.

‘I love you so much.’ you say breathlessly.

‘the feeling is so mutual babe.’ he kissed into your skin.

‘y/n, you’re so fucking wet,’ he spoke under his breath. still inside that filled pussy of yours, his cum and your slick provided a juicy lubricant. as he pulled out, the cum oozing out of your wrecked hole pooled into his pubes and on the duvet cover. the two of you were completely oblivious to the mess, and cuddled in the filth you’d created - a filth you were looking forward to adding to in the morning.

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tag list:

@gayaristocrat

@ghostking4m

@lysanderplume

#gay #bottom male reader #smut #gay male #gay reader #male bottom #male x male #gay love #gay smut #male bottom reader #dacre montgomery #gay men #male reader #male x male fluff #bottom reader #gay fluff

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prettyboybillyhargrove · 2 years ago

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Dacre Montgomery is ready to work

There’s a famous audition tape of Dacre Montgomery’s online. Maybe you’ve seen it; some 18 million people have. And it’s captivating to watch, not just because of Montgomery’s intensity, but because of the clear control that he has at such a young age. That steady ferocity cuts right through the screen, even though he’s just ‘running lines’ against a plain blue backdrop. It also cut through the sea of other actors gunning for a role in Stranger Things and made him Billy Hargrove, the resident bad guy on the sci-fi drama that broke Netflix viewership records on its way to becoming one of the biggest shows in TV history.

It’s been almost six years since that audition made Montgomery a global star, but the man sitting in front of me has lost none of that vigour. Reclining in a side room at a studio in Sydney before the photoshoot accompanying this article, the now 28-year-old looks casual. He’s wearing a plain black T-shirt, white shorts and one of those non-descript navy caps movie stars wear when they want to be incognito. The outfit is a simple one, designed to avoid attention—a far cry from the red carpet fashion that Montgomery favours. But as he starts talking about the thing he loves most—movies and the process of making them—that same intensity takes over; a passion that has him on the edge of his seat.

“When I was in my early teens, all I did was stay in my room and watch movies. And I fell in love with everything,” he says. The reverence, the obsession, is what drives Montgomery, and not just when it comes to acting. On set for today’s shoot, Montgomery—who was recently named the face of Politix’s new autumn/winter “The Gentle Man” campaign—is completely locked in. Unlike some who see an ambassador role as an opportunity to make a quick buck, Montgomery has signed on because he’s excited about the brand’s refreshed look and new chapter. “I don't just rock up on time. I rock up 10 minutes early,” he told me, “I don't just give one idea, I give 10 ideas because I don't engage with anything unless I'm authentically interested in it.”

He’s not kidding. After each burst of shots, he pores over them like he’s the creative director, rather than the subject—not out of vanity, but to see if the images are challenging enough. At one point, he grabs a mirror from the corner of the room. “Let’s just try it”, he tells the crew, and proceeds to work it straight into the shoot.

This dedication to perfection hasn’t always been easy for him or the people around him. After Stranger Things, the search for the next perfect role was almost paralysing. “Before I felt like, ‘look, I'm not going to take anything unless I'm 150 per cent invested’,” he says, and eventually, that attitude led to Montgomery parting ways with his team—his management, agents, everyone.

During that period, which he describes as a creative hole, Montgomery tried anything and everything. He wrote poetry (which was released as a book by publisher Andrews McMeel under the title DKMH and turned into a spoken word podcast of the same name), made short films, and dedicated himself to learning the arts of cinematography and screenwriting—at some points, he was watching three films a day, “morning, noon, night”, just like he did as a teenager.

Part of the fear that drove him into that lull was the looming presence of being typecast. When there are roles being offered to you left, right and centre, which one is the ‘perfect’ next step to take? This year, he has started climbing out of that hole, engaging more filmmakers as well as taking on roles like the one with Politix. But, there is still a sense of wariness.

For example, as news broke that Hugh Jackman wouldn’t be returning as Wolverine—a decision that he has since reversed—rumours swirled that Montgomery might step into the role. But for him, it’s about the filmmakers rather than any big-name character. “It’s just finding filmmakers that I'm really interested in working with and going from there as opposed to it being like, ‘oh, I've always wantedto play Wolverine or Bane’,” he says, “but also, I’m feeling a little bit of Marvel fatigue. I’m not really interested in it in the same way that I was.”

Montgomery isn’t alone in his ‘Marvel fatigue’, plenty of moviegoers aren’t as interested as they once were—just look at the recent box office figures—but it’s another example of how he’s a film fan first, and an actor second. He can thank his parents for that.

“My dad started taking me to films that I shouldn't have been seeing when I was a kid,” Montgomery says, “but he worked in the film industry and he would explain to me the process of everything.” From the very beginning, he was exposed to not just the definitive films of the time, but also how they were made. His mother and father would take him to the sets they were working on and show him the ins and outs. “It was like, ‘here’s the unadulterated version of the world and the industry and here are all the ins and the outs of how movies are made.”

For some actors, fame, as much as the films that inspire them, is a driver. And it’s only if they reach a level of success that they really see how the sausage is made—which is not always pretty, especially if they aren’t backed by a huge studio. Thanks to his parents, Montgomery is a rare actor who has always known about the gritty reality of making low-budget films—the long days, the repetition, the egos—but that’s what he fell in love with. “I'm not here for money or notoriety or anything like that,” he says, “I really care about the work and that's what I'm there for.”

But it’s that moment when he actually steps in front of the camera and it’s time to perform that has always had Montgomery hooked. “When you’re on set, I don't try to take up too much space and I wait until it’s my time to go in front of the camera and do my little thing. But when I do that… It's ecstasy. There’s nothing but that moment, do you know what I mean?”

Though it’s been a few years since Montgomery has had those moments and shared them with the world—Elvis, in which he was a scene-stealer, was largely filmed in 2020—he’s getting back to work. “I am climbing out of that [hole] and what that looks like is me engaging with more filmmakers,” he says. Of the three filmmakers he has agreed to work with—at least publicly—one thing is clear: they aren’t interested in making simple, sugar-coated work.

The first film we are likely to see in Montgomery’s next chapter is Spider & Jesse, directed by Dan Kay, which dives into the far-reaching consequences of addiction. “It’s about two girls that find their mother dead in the first scene and they bury her in the backyard so they don't have to go into the foster care system,” Montgomery explains, “I play the mum’s ex-boyfriend that was dealing her the drugs.”

It’s an unglamorous role with limited screen time, but that didn’t bother Montgomery because it was clear the film, and the people behind it, had something vital to say. “I realised they were on a mission to give insight into the people that are affected by addiction—family, friends, and people they're associated with rather than shedding light on the addicts themselves.”

Filming on Spider & Jesse, which took place in Florida, has already wrapped, but Montgomery’s other two projects are yet to begin production. Both are ambitious, and both defy simple explanation. The first, titled Went Up That Hill, comes from Samuel Van Grinsven, a New Zealand-born, Sydney-based director who became a festival circuit favourite with his feature debut Sequin in a Blue Room.

In essence, Montgomery says the film is an assessment of abuse and how trauma lingers from our childhoods. Beyond the message of the film though, it’s the challenging acting work—he’s heading to Berlin to work with co-star Vicky Krieps (Phantom Thread, Old), Van Grinsven and a movement coach to prepare for the complex role—that has attracted him.

The same goes for Faces of Death, the other project Montgomery has been linked to, which is a remake of a 1978 American mondo horror film notoriously banned for years in countries across the world, including Australia, due to its graphic depictions of death. “I have a really interesting co-star [Euphoria’s Barbie Ferreira] who I love, and the character is a serial killer, and for me, it was like, ‘what’s the thing that’s going to scare me so much about creating this character?’” he says of the film, “So I rang the director and I was like, ‘I want to go visit a serial killer in a state penitentiary in the state of California when I'm back because it scares the shit out of me’.”

After these films wrap up, Montgomery plans to start his journey into directing. “I want to direct my first movie and right now I'm in the process of working on the script with my writer and then I'm going to go on the process of trying to put the movie together,” he says, and he won’t give much more than that away, but if there’s anything we’d wager on, it’s that the movie will be challenging—both to make and in concept.

If these types of films don’t sound like they’ll be box office smashes or Oscar bait, Montgomery isn’t worried. “To me, the success of the movie is in the making of the movie,” he says. “And the outcome of the movie looks like a cathartic experience making [it], as opposed to some other thing like, ‘Oh, I want to get into this film festival and I want the film to have a 4.0 on Letterboxd.’ That's not what I'm doing it for.”

The same attitude goes for his partnership with Politix. Beyond filmmaking, Montgomery is passionate about the way that fashion allows him to control his direct experience. “I suffer from incredibly bad OCD,” he shares, “And I have always found comfort in controlling my surroundings, and that is fabric. My mood is very affected by what I have on my skin and what I have in my space and what I can smell and all that sort of stuff bleeds into my personal life aside from fashion.”

As with his project selection in cinema, the aesthetics are one thing, but for Montgomery to come on board he has to believe in the direction of the project.

“I'm interested in [Politix’s] reworking of the company and what they’re doing to reshape it for 2023 and onwards. But what I was genuinely interested in is that sensitivity of masculinity because that really is me. I am a very sensitive person. I'm very sensitive to my space and to interactions in my life. And I think this whole campaign is really about unpacking what is that.”

Once Montgomery signed on with Politix to become its new face, as with his films, he was all in. From the campaign direction to the execution of the advertising, Montgomery has been instrumental. He’s not just arriving, taking some photos and leaving—as with the photoshoot accompanying this shoot, he’s trying to make it the best he can.

“I want the product to be good, just as good as they want the product to be and not hopefully from a narcissistic point of view, from a point of view of I want it to be good,” he says, “That's more important to me than the paycheck or how many people see it or how successful the campaign is. That's the through line for me.”

It’s this sheer dedication to craft and passion for the work that has seen Montgomery through to where he is today. It’s what made that Stranger Things audition tape so arresting and, if he pulls off his big swings, may just make him one of the most memorable actors Australia has produced. Whether those ambitious punches land or not, there’s no doubt about one thing: Montgomery is ready to do the work.

PRODUCTION CREDITS:

Words by Charlie Calver

Photography by Jesse Lizotte

Styling by Miguel Urbina Tan

Fashion assisting by Isabella Mamas

Grooming by Joel Foreman

Production by Jade Carp

Dacre Montgomery wears Politix throughout; politix.com.au

#dacre montgomery #billy hargrove #stranger things #gq #gq australia #politix #spider & jesse #went up that hill #faces of death

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owenryder · 2 years ago

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THE INSPIRATION BEHIND... OWEN RYDER ANDERSON

boston accent / matt nathanson 🎧

the good part / ajr 🎧

young blood / noah kahan 🎧

ryder is ... a gucci tux in a crowded room, skyscrapers, a Boston accent, waking up in a city he's never been in before, hot girls on his arm at parties and a hot boy offering him coffee the next morning, a smear of blue-green paint under a lock of light brown hair, the hum of a sport car's engine, bottles of alcohol on a hotel's dresser top, the product of wealth and toxicity, independence.

There really are no fictional characters or people in my life that inspired Owen Ryder Anderson; he is a product of me wanting to play someone completely different that would fit into this idea that I had of a young character moving to a town that was basically the polar opposite of every place that he had called home growing up... for a girl. Past that, he sort of created himself.

Of course Ryder has some influences from pop culture; characters with big egos but secret, soft hearts. Boys that drank a little too much at parties and got vulnerable, or wheeled around in sports cars but made people wear their seatbelts. Cocky, arrogant types with all the money in the world who didn't really live like it in their every day life. Snappy dressers who looked straight off the runway, but then threw down at the bowling alley in jeans and a t-shirt. Someone famous online for doing something stupid, and probably never creating that magic again... but people still followed them anyway, because why not? Dacre Montgomery himself inspired Ryder, of course -- mostly that era where he was just becoming famous and doing all sorts of photoshoots where he kind of looked like that guy you would hate, but then secretly swoon over. And his artistic side, too, except I went in the direction of abstract painting over poetry.

I knew that I wanted Ryder to have a sort of complicated, borderline unhealthy home life. But nothing triggering or uncomfortable. The kind of life that a lot of rich kids probably grow up with: mom and dad's families pressured them to get married because they each had money and high society standing and would have a blessed rich people union, but they probably absolutely definitely should not have been allowed to reproduce... but did. And named him Owen because they have no taste. I wanted him to have a dad that was sort of an enigma. Does he work in finance? Is he a businessman? Maybe he really actually is in the mafia? Who knows! He's the kind of person who doesn't have much of a personality outside of money -- he uses money to get what he wants and he has no shame in it and no shame in what it brings him, what it allows him to do. His father slept around before, during and after his marriage to his mother and never batted an eye. And his mother... typical socialite mom. Probably never actually wanted kids, but tried her hardest to love Ryder. Her family had connections with the art scene, she always attended the richest events in the finest gowns, and spent as much time in her closet as she did Ryder's play room. Since the divorce, she's cycled through boyfriends. Some good for her, some not so much, some closer in age to Ryder than her, it felt like.

Outside of his family life, I did want him to have some stability, so Ryder grew up with nannies and tutors who took good care of him, helped him grow into a somewhat stable grown up. Somewhat. I wanted him to be a world traveler, experiencing life on the road, so it made sense to me that he grow up with his dad, traveling, learning as he went, visiting city after city, state after state, country after country, continent after continent. He made friends, but not for very long. He slept with people for weeks at a time before never calling them again. His most steady, valuable relationships in his life were the ones forged with his caretakers, whether that was touching, or sad at the end of it all.

One of the biggest inspirations when it came to creating Ryder was his love story. With Ana (hi!) we crafted a relationship between him and her character, Madelyn, in which they met while he was attending college in Boston. Since they didn't live in the same city, their relationship was long-distance and online, at least until he moved to Merrock. I wanted to play this guy who, despite having the world at his feet, was ready to give it all up for love, come to this little podunk town he had only visited when he was younger to see his cousin, and really give it a go at settling down and seeing what could shake out of it. I liked the idea of this big city guy who wore Gucci sneakers and drove a Porsche moving into a small town like Merrock and just let it take him over. Even when Madelyn was no longer a part of the group, I liked watching the way that the town changed Ryder, whether it be in the form of his two best friends that he lived with, the jobs that he was working, despite the ridiculously large trust fund and bank account that just sits there; it's fun.

Some of the aesthetics used to create Ryder are pretty obvious: boys who like fast cars, boys who kiss boys and girls, boys who wear fancy clothes, boys who have money, boys who know they're hot, boys who drink too much on weekends, boys, boys, boys, because in a lot of ways, Ryder is more of a boy than a man, although I do think that he's on his way to figuring all of that out. Maybe before he turns thirty. I wanted him to have a bit of an ego, be cocky and full of himself, but have a lot of it be tongue-in-cheek, and have Merrock be a learning experience in that regard, too, maybe have him realize that it was okay to just be a decent human being, believe it or not. Bisexual, he likes anyone and everyone, sleeps around, doesn't really do serious relationships (anymore, anyway) and has left a trail of one night stands in his wake. I also wanted him to be ridiculously stubborn about not wanting to live in his parents' shadow, wanting to create a life for himself. Hence picking up the job at the gallery and The Garden and trying to live off of his own money. Given that at the time of his "conception" my other masculine characters were Cage, Rafael and Darrius -- Cage being a carpenter who worked with his hands, Rafael being an older gentleman with life figured out, and Darrius being a hulking figure with a soft heart, playing a messy, younger character who was also just unapologetically himself felt right.

I really do not have a lot in common with Ryder... except for art. And that's a very small amount. For example, I took art classes in high school. Ryder graduated college with a whole ass degree and has had several showings in Boston. I haven't, for what it's worth. That's about where our similarities end, though. I don't have money or sports cars or fancy clothes or any of it... but it's fun to play someone who does!

#merrocktask #all about ryder #;; i didn't forget these!!!

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senatushq · 10 months ago

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NAME. Venerio VescoviAGE & BIRTH DATE. 998 & March 25th, 1025 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Male & He/Him SPECIES. Vampire BLOODLINE. Pluto OCCUPATION. Poet & Landowner FACE CLAIM. Dacre Montgomery

biography

( tw: blood, death, violence ) Born under a feudal lord in a noble house, Venerio’s father was a wealthy landowner who controlled the local countryside and levied taxes in the name of the crown. Pious and devout, when Venerio was only a year old a call went out from the Pope himself decreeing that the Holy Lands would be retaken. The first of the Crusades, the war that ensued saw the deaths of countless, among them were many lords which was pivotal in bringing about the end of feudalism. Estates and land were consolidated under the crown, putting more and more power in the hands of Kings. Heirless nobles who died in battle were ripe for the taking, Venerio, being only two years old when news of his father’s death reached the countryside, was an easy target. His mother, wise as she was, spirited the child away to the care of a family friend, though as fate would have it the caravan would never arrive.

Bandits ravaged the wagon and the accompaniment, the child was discovered but was left to perish to the elements rather than be raised among them. In that forest young Venerio’s life should have come to an end, exposure or beasts would have made short work of the infant but as fate would have it a different sort of monster intervened. Discovered by a savant, the vampire that had earned the moniker of The Lush found him and chose to raise the infant as if he was his own. Salvador was a vampire of the pluto bloodline, a descendant once removed from the original vampire himself.

In the house of the curator, language, painting, poetry, arts, and the education of a young man of noble blood wasn’t left to the wayside. Fencing, mercantilism, astronomy, and more: Salvador gave Venerio every opportunity and for much of the mortal’s young life the vampire’s true nature was kept hidden. Blood that lined goblets of wine, parties that had some guests simply disappear, and the occasional need to relocate without much notice. New tutors could be found, and new friends could be made, but by the time Venerio was eleven years old they’d settled somewhere where the makeshift family would put down roots of their own. It was in these first few years that Venerio really came into his own awareness, for all the years that he had known his father, Salvador had never changed. He never aged, and he was possessed of strengths and awarenesses that far exceeded his own.

Vampire. That was the definition that Salvador had laid at his feet, it was Salvador’s blood that lined the spoons Venerio was fed when he was sick, or when he was injured. It was the blood of Venerio’s tutors, his house keepers, and the party guests that sustained the savant when he was not sampling more particular vintages.If his father expected Venerio to recoil at this knowledge, he did not, instead the young boy was intrigued: blood and hunger seemed like small prices to pay for immortality and power. Every year on his birthday Venerio asked for the same thing, the same gift, the boy who had everything wanted to be changed. He wanted what Salvador had but every year he was denied.

A young man like any other, Venerio had one consistent friend who lived across the way. She was from a house that was not unlike his own, save for the fact that her parents were human, mortals. They were curious of the foreign man and his ward, the Lush and his great parties made him magnanimous and larger than life, so naturally Venerio and their daughter became acquainted. About the same age, the two were fast friends, under the supervision of their chaperones they shared in their lessons and long, warm afternoons. From friends the two grew into more, but this was a natural turn of events for the two with so much in common from similar social standings. Despite his affections, Venerio still asked Salvador every year to turn him, though as his love grew, so too did his shortsighted desires.

At twenty-six Venerio had gotten into trading, the business was a good one, sound. Though his passion was elsewhere, in the quiet hours of the evening, or in the early morning of the dawn he’d lament mournful or exuberant words over bits of parchment. He’d scrawl every hope and melancholic thought, romantic by nature, the young man had a difficult start but otherwise led a charmed life. Unencumbered by the weight of his past, Venerio held little interest in what it meant to have been a Vescovi, he wouldn’t chase a title when immortality would offer him so much more.

He asked Salvador once more, the patriarch that had left some time prior to avoid suspicion and to watch the young man grow from a distance. Still, he returned for Venerio’s birthday every year, if only to turn the man’s request down: this time, however, he agreed. Venerio had been given every advantage, every education, and everything that Salvador could have supplied to make an informed decision. No longer a child, but a grown man, Venerio’s decision was his own so Salvador welcomed him into his eternal family of the night. What Venerio’s sire did not know was what the young vampire planned to do next.

Venerio proposed, and his childhood love agreed. The enchanted signet ring he wore made it so he didn’t need to fear the light of day, and the world that he’d been reborn into kept him strong, immortal, and beautiful. On his wedding night Venerio made the decision to turn his bride, he hadn’t asked, only assumed. When she awoke a creature of the night her bloodlust had left her unprepared, she tore through her ageing parents and rightfully blamed Venerio. He told her what she had become, what he was, and what they would be together. In her fury, she attacked him, she would have killed him had Salvador not been there to intercede. So began the trials of what Venerio would call a string of bad luck where his love life was concerned.

Heartache defined his first attempt at creating a progeny, a shortsighted mistake that Venerio chose not to repeat. The agony that followed his hollowed out heart was one that would follow him in the centuries to come. But first, he returned to the ancestral home of the Vescovi name, and it was there that he saw the bordered up home in the Roman countryside. Dilapidated and overrun, the earth had completely taken it in places while in others there was nothing left but a ruin. The locals who had once paid tribute to Venerio’s father now venerated the King and the taxmen that worked on his behalf. His mother managed to remarry when Venerio was spirited away, though she had long believed that he had died along the road, he found her in her ailing years. Weak, sickly, and the only living heir of two deceased husbands, she lived alone now. From her Venerio learned that he had his birth father’s features, though his eyes were entirely hers.

Too afraid of what might become of her if he were to give her the gift, and far too worried that she’d send him away if he even asked, Venerio had a few brief weeks with her before time and age took its natural course. The vampire’s signet ring along with a certified letter from his mother was all Venerio needed to prove his birthright. His estate and the surrounding countryside were returned to him, along with almost thirty years of overdue taxes: a sum that the vampire and trader willfully paid as he settled into restoring what was his by right. Year after year the home was rebuilt, he had no memory of the place, just the memory that his imagination had conjured as he laid new flooring and placed fresh stones. Rebuilt walls and rehung portraits in its stately halls.

Venerio was a creature that wandered its halls, a hopeless romantic toiling over his works; the poet and the painter who hung onto the macabre and the mysticism of the world. Even as it changed around him; with every few years he’d leave and wait out a generation before Venerio would return and claim to be the son or grandson of the previous Venerio Vescovi.

personality

+ earnest, romantic, meticulous - melancholic, selfish, shortsighted

played by shane. est. he/him.

#original character #takenc #takenm #takenvampire

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littledemon-lilith · 1 year ago

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Porous pumice

Indented like a freckle...

Like...

CHEESE

I’m CACKLING

Ratchet and rank

It’s insane how much is in the tank

#lilith answers #seph 💖#dacre montgomery #poetry #dkmh

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daddydacremontgomery · 5 years ago

Text

In Vitro

Man made myth.

Man made legend.

Man made himself king.

Man made himself God,

And man killed man.

Strung him up,

Upon a cross.

He wakes in the middle of the night and his heart begins to fight with his mind.

The world shifts sand on a dune blows past

and cuts like a knife,

and then hits.

You can only stretch the truth so far before you no longer have control over the car.

Fallacy became reality, reality became sanity, sanity strain strain strained.

To maintain, his head.

Head was an atlas.

Atlas broke his spine and then it broke his mind.

I’m listening to the desert, but I’m not there.

There is far from here.

You are far from here.

Dopamine.

Produce too much, couldn’t let go of the high, was too high to say goodbye.

To the things, we had before they went.

My body is so spent.

Dripping sweat, kitchen sink, blood on my teeth.

Achin’ minds, splittin’ skulls, sleepless nights.

Trying to quell.

Quell what I got.

God given energy.

Lifeforce pumping through my bloodstream.

Red blood cells clot.

Stop.

It was all tangled in one place.

Nowhere to go, the pace has slowed.

Heartbeat stops.

A ticking clock.

Three cuckoos pass the cuckoo clock.

Stop.

Drop.

And roll.

Rolling from the fire, the fire is desire.

The desire is you.

I was selfish to a point, two years past ‘03.

Then I met you.

And it was you and me.

Bound hip, heart and hand.

Hand in hand, hand in the sand on a beach.

A mission in Cabana.

Havana, Havana, Havana.

And a cigar.

Tobacco is the smell of fire.

On your clothes, in you pores, it stores and stays.

Ringing in your ears outside a club, I can’t hear you, but I can see.

Clearly.

We eat, we fuck, we sleep.

Sleeping for the first time in a week.

Merged energy.

Energy is a collaboration three rings bound,

Without a sound.

Maleficent beauty.

Blonde cheeks.

Cheeks and then begins to speak.

Splitting sound.

Voice like butter baking a cake, three parts desire,

One part fire.

TLC, TLC.

No man created me.

Me is not form for society sake.

Not a pin-up.

Not a hunk, not junk.

And I’ve been sinking, sinking.

But I’m afloat now,

Jumping off the boat.

Two rhymes,

Sixteen bars,

A moment in time.

To free, to speak, to seek.

Seek guidance.

Water and spiders.

Spiders spying a spider.

Spiders inside of her,

Like a black hole.

Pasted and jaded.

Time has flown by

And memories faded.

It’s hard to walk, it’s hard to breathe.

It’s hard to talk.

The fallacy you made myth.

I turn legend.

It was all a lie from the beginning, I ain’t no legend.

You weren’t born.

C-Section, cut from the stomach of an IVF virgin turned myth, turned legend.

The world knows.

The world sees.

The world heralds a king.

And destroys the child.

Man made myth.

Man made legend.

Man made himself king.

Man made himself God,

and man killed man

By: Dacre Montgomery, on his podcast DKMH

Stream it now on Spotify and Apple Podcasts

#dacre montgomery #dacre #DKMH #DKMH podcast #billy hargrove #stranger things #dacre montgomery poetry #In Vitro #In vitro dacre montgomery #dacre montgomery poem #spoken word poem #beat poetry #poem #poetry #spilled ink

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homiehopperrr · 5 years ago

Text

Valentine

Land to sea

Salt crust, high tea

Twentieth day,

Thirty-three short

Seeing you I came up short

The day I met you, started like this

I had not yet discovered bliss

Blissfully awaiting that fateful date

Cruise through new streets,

Wide open tarmac

Leather back,

Youk trees, birds, seas

Take me back so I can hold it

It is time,

Fine like sand

It dances and falls through my hand

Take me back so I can feel it

Feel meeting a stranger

I remember, is it the first house?

Houses one, two or three

That one,

With white walls, green arches

That one with a softness in its garden

Tires stop,

Engine hot

Hands on the wheel and time stood still

And then rushed forward

The western sun spilt shadows across your lawn

White door opened and I saw a perfect form

‘Twas you

I kept poise, profile forward

Scared

Can she see me?

My ifs and buts came to a halt,

Your hand cradled the door and then a jolt

Open

I saw your bronze skin in the door opening and in

Leg first, white skirt

Softening

Without a word,

Without flirting you sank in

Seats like buckets flowing over the brim.

Then ‘twas you

Poised, profile forward

Scared?

No.

You turn and you look me through

I had never seen someone like you

You pierced me in daggers of blue

Topaz forest with a trillion cut edges

The pressures of life, has forced out a diamond

Earth’s rarest at a mere six inches from my ear

Then she spoke

Without a joke,

Or a moment of fear

Though destiny had shown me her face,

I was stopped and stammered in this place

I drove forward, not knowing exactly where it was,

Exactly that I was going to be going

We travel through the day,

Making our way up the brown lines of the earth

Exploring many areas,

Some new, some old

We eat, bold

Eyes locked in an unfamiliar mold

I can’t peel away

Like an orange, citrus cracking under the pressure

No.

You’re more like a sweet peach

Nothing to measure

Except sweet,

When our eyes meet

To ask

To wonder

To fall

What a day

What a first day it has been,

For you and me

Land to sea,

Salt crust, high tea

Twentieth day,

Thirty-three short

Seeing you I came up short

The day I met you, ended like this

I turned to you and I put my hand on yours

It was smooth like silk,

Warm like bed

I softened and moved towards your head

I proclaim my desire like a Shakespearean fable

And then after merely a moment,

I put everything on the table

We kissed

It was simple, it was bliss

You had me

My heart was in your hand,

Before you could even understand

You’re a map,

Evil right up your back

Toes to the top of the stack

—By Dacre Montgomery,

from his podcast DKMH

#dacre #dacre montgomery #dacre montgomery poetry #DKMH #DKMH podcast #poetry #poem #poem by dacre montgomery #valentine #SERIOUSLY CHECK OUT HIS PODCAST #im gonna transcribe as many as possible #here and on my stan account #sorry if theres any mistakes

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