prcdigls

[prcdigls]

it's morning, just meek enough for the sun to rest her head between a crest of blight, not yet unveiling her golden splendor across this wretched corner of the world --- one only half illuminated. there are certain sorts of people that take those few moments before sun - up and meld the opportunity in their hands: those who had lost themselves to life ( and felt the need to make up for it ) & those who had too much time entirely. satine does not wish to know which she is, and yet she stirs. an empty heap in her lovers bed, and now stood before the particularly aloof hostess. this portrait is askew: canted slightly to the right and unable to correct itself on its hook. perhaps it was because they were women --- stood on comparable ends of girlhood. perhaps it was because whatever had been wrong with satine had also been wrong with the desk attendee. in any case, "this name [...] does it ring a bell?" there's a distant attempt at eye contact --- cursive-marked slip of paper pinched between two manicured digits and slid toward the stranger along the marble countertop.

𝚏𝚘𝚛: @prcdigls

𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: the borderline

SHE ENJOYS THE MONOTONY OF HER DAYS. there is a soft, settling peace that repetition brings like the consistency of a tide pulled by the moon. here she is sand upon the beach waiting for her turn to be washed back into the ocean, to sink with all the silt and shell to the bed of the seafloor and remain there eternally out of reach from even the sun. some things are destined never to be discovered a paradox of want and wanting ( if something is destroyed can you ever really prove it existed? ) so she sits in the air-conditioning and hopes she will remain here at the front of the borderline hotel forever. even when she dies she hopes her ghost will haunt the building and embed itself in the bricks like mortar keeping it all from collapsing. she looks up, dazed and slightly far away. "welcome to the borderline hotel. how may i help you?"

[prcdigls]

crop top that says “FRANKENSTEIN” across the chest and booty shorts that say “FRANKENSTEIN’S MONSTER” across the ass

[prcdigls]

madam apex has a certain way of clawing herself a new facade, the ever turning woman: malleable in your palms but with too many bones. you have her, she had to be broken. and she had been, once then twice again ⸺ but this woman too were a predator, and though she had not bore them ⸺ satine still had all her fangs. bred as a spectacle, it would become the very thing she would learn to love. the art of vanity, and the matter of coaxing it out of thin air had become an appetite of its own. the hunger for only glimmer and gold, it were only right that she admire the dominion she cultivated. "it makes you wonder doesn't it ..." it's a coax, waxed with the knowing that to foster beauty, one cannot go without rot. satine nears still, "couldn't it be so much more?"

OPEN STARTER .ᐟ @ OLD WORLD CASINO with DAFINA, THE EARLY BEGINNING OF THE LATE NIGHT.

the air around crowds as large as these has a sort of taste to it that's a certain kind of enthralling; something sweet, ripe; something that would burn the throat like an acidic potion stirred within a cauldron of hatred. it reeks of the primal stench of human sweat and the sticky, suffocating strain of perfume —  a humanly, bodily scent that cannot be avoided in places as beloved and frequented as this. this place, this building, this crowd; it is all a staple of humanity, mankind at its most basic. dafina stays on the wall, shoulder - blades glued to plaster and drywall. she imagines herself to be a beast, hiding in the shadows, feeding on the people before her.  drink, she wants to say, let me see you at your barest.  she moves around the perimeter like a panther, wearing the night and the shadows as distraction, allowing the room to be busy, allowing herself to be seen and ignored. to the person in her path ( a kindred soul, perhaps, or another soulless creature finding solace in the blurry areas ), she says, ' what a show. is it like this all the time? so bright and lively? ' and gives them a smile, peeling herself off the wall just so.

[prcdigls]

WHAT IS A SOUL IF NOTHING AT ALL? ( THIS IS AN ASSESSMENT OF THE INDOMITABLE: MRS. SATINE LI. )

NICKNAME(S)       MODEL T-76SJO5 ARTEM ZODIAC       pisces AGE  /  D.O.B.       appears to be forty,   march of 2014. PLACE  OF  BIRTH      bronx, ny GENDER  /  PRONOUNS       cis  woman,  she / her ORIENTATION       lover of few, hater of many. OCCUPATION       ceo of the old world casino, unknown stonage replicant.

PARALLELS      lilico ( helter skelter ), madeleine swann ( no time to die ), kyoko ( ex machina ), shiv roy ( sucession ), mariette ( blade runner 2049 ), maeve millay ( westworld )

TIMELINE

tl;dr: woman with superimposed daddy issues vows to become a better capitalist than him. surprisingly, she succeeds but at every cost. all recollections were programmed by stonage inc.

01. you  are  born  as  artem:   moon  child  &   as  desirable  as  such.   a  darling  babe  with  empire  as  your  last  name.   as  the  only  daughter  of  this dominion,  you  reside  on  the  edge  of  infinity:   cradling  both  everything  &   nothing  at  all  with  the  promise  of  opportunity  on  either  side.   but  as  your  parents  had  it,  this  playground  kingdom  was  never  truly  yours  to  rule,  for  you  were  merely  their  sweet  disciple.   to  be  worshiped  darling  girl,  one  must  first  conquer. 02. your father was no father at all but a man who left you for the knife and made it his god. he cut and cut until you too were a butchered reflection of him, one look into the gleam of a kitchen knife and it is not yourself that you saw but the shape he wedged you out to be. you were just a child then, but not one above violence so if you could not cut him down so soon, you would inflict your sharpness on those less deserving. 03. man  bore  you  hungry,  so  you  sank  your  teeth  into  life  &  sucked  out  the  marrow  because  you  were  nothing  if  not  insatiable.   unlike  those  before  you  that  had  been  sucked  up  dark  heavens  above,  you had  become  the  undying  star.   too  bright  and  far  too  beautiful  to  be  ignored.   you  bite  &  bite  until  her  jaw  aches,  carving  yourself  out  as  both  sacrifice  &   symbol:  what  may  hail  as  the  end  of  an  epoch  crowns  you  as  the  bastion  of  the  next. 04. you  are  reborn  as  an  asteroid  with  a  human  name,  part  protagonist   &   part  tragedy  as  you  came  hurtling  into  media  res.   you  thought  the  calamity  would  kill  you  but  it  only  made  you  real,  it  peeled  back  skin  &   teeth  to  unveil  a  besmirch  of  marrow  &   blood,  a  tangle  of  all  you  had  ever  been:  needless  in  your  suffering.   you stand above it all now, sat upon your neon olympus. and yet, there  is  no  glory  in  your  agony  and  there  is  no  appeasement  from  the  gods.   so  what  is  it  to  weather  the  pain  if  there  was  the  promise  of  something  more.  

HEADCANONS

the stepford wife of all stepford wives ( batteries & extramarital affairs included! ) just a gal playing house all while swiftly losing touch of her perception of self.

essentially just the frontman for something impossibly larger than herself. her current identity as a replicant is unknown to herself and most others outside of her current handler partner.

daddy's girl until the end of time except her dad never actually existed so she lives in perpetuity of deconstructing the patriarchy with her bare hands & also yearing to bring every man she's ever met to his knees.

her rise to notoriety was a near instant one, appearing out of seemingly thin air as the so-called face of the largest gambling house in the city. her reach is far greater & far more dangerous than she cares to know.

uncanny valley with a cream bow belted around it; nothing but a hollow gaze & a wide, empty smile perched atop of a pair of stilettos.

indescribably violent in all aspects: in love, in hate, in lust. only savors things for their extremes, believes that nothing moderate is worth having.

obsessive regarding the divine feminine: prides that insatiable sense of femininity above all else. more to come soon.

[prcdigls]

—Andrea Dworkin, Letters from a War Zone

[prcdigls]

lake mungo (2008) / sharp objects (2018)

[prcdigls]

Female Prisoner #701: Scorpion (1972) dir. Shunya Ito

[prcdigls]

GEMMA CHAN as Henny Intrigo: Dear Agnes (2019)

[prcdigls]

𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐋𝐈 for lawlessfm. deprogrammed by kay, she/her, twenty1+

about. aesthetic. musings. threads.