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Rafael Alberti, tr. by Ben Belitt, from An Anthology of Spanish Poetry: From the Beginnings to the Present Day, Including Both Spain and Spanish America; "Paradise Lost"

[Text ID: “Across centuries / and the void of a world, / sleepless, I seek you.”]

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Daughter, you have barely touched your killing and murder. What is wrong? Is it not good?

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Double checking my texts and making sure I wrote “okay thanks!” Instead of I want you flat on your back. Helpless, tender, open with only me to help. And then I want you strong again. You're not going to die. You might wish you're going to die, but you're not going to.

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Succession (2018)

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THE GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL (2014) dir. Wes Anderson

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male euthalia adonia | source

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As Julie's gaze falls from his, Krou'Ahz sizes her up through burning eyes, as though to scry the words she wants to hear from her countenance alone. Nothing rises to the surface but a soft psychical murmuring, humming in his ears.

It's becoming clear to him that it's not enough to rely on his usual tricks; if he's going to win her heart, he'll have to change tack.

He scratches his beard, contemplating, then ventures, "I find it ... difficult to articulate what I am." All these millennia and words still somehow fail him. "But I know whatever I am, and whatever you are, we're cut from the same ineffable cloth. I could be your patron, a mentor, even a warlock — if you should ask it. And all I'm asking in return is your friendship and faith in me."

Here he drops a wink. "Leave the pacts to the devils to make."

krou'ahz speaks with the silky confidence of a lawyer. if she hadn't gotten accustomed to matt and foggy's own skill in spinning webs meant to tangle panels of juries, perhaps she would find herself snared.

as it is, she finds her eyes drifting away again. it doesn't help that he's, like, taller than the world. she feels like he should have a cane. or is that only when you're impossibly tall? a cane would probably help him feel... less.

just, less.

"are you, like." a beat. "some kind of warlock?" another. "er." another. "a patron? are you gonna be like, i want to sign a pact, and then, like." another. "later, be like, now you can do my bidding?"

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If I invite her to give her endless well

of grief a name,

I am afraid it will be

mine.

— Blythe Baird, from "What a Body Inherits," Sweet, Young, & Worried

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THE FLY (1986) dir. David Cronenberg

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Transmission

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her first question skewers him, bringing him up short. the smile quivers. for a singular hair-raising moment, krou'ahz suffers the mortifying ordeal of being known. it isn't often he needs to demonstrate his worthiness of being liked; time immemorial, it's almost been compulsory.

if she won't give it to him freely, then all the same: he'll barter for it. julie's an interesting one. a great and mysterious power bound up in a skeptical package. fortunately for him, this is something krou'ahz understands very, very well.

" quid pro quo, my dear. i'll cut to the chase: we have a lot in common, inhabiting both the material and immaterial planes. i wanna know how it is you're getting into my dreams. and then after that, i wanna know what else you can do, and how i can help you do it. "

christ, she fucking hates this guy. literally, like. what the fuck?

julie prefers to look at krou'ahz from the very corner of her eye, painfully aware of him but not able to describe any of his features if she were to be asked to make a police sketch for him.

however. at this "turn of phrase". that he uses.

she does look at him. and it's incredulous.

after a brief and very fierce struggle with her words, she finds them in the form of: "—why do you want me to like you so bad." a beat. "we — aren't. — like, what's even your fucking deal?"

from @kerosenelozenge

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you said you were in love with me both of us know that that’s impossible and i could make you rue the day but i could never make you stay

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« Bella, you're back. »

Poor Things (2023) dir. Yorgos Lanthimos

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