#slum goddesses | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

adaptacy · 5 months

Text

A Found Flame {Pt.8}

Pairing: Mentor!Gale Dekarios x Apprentice!GN!Reader

(Previous Chapter) – (Next Chapter) ➔ (AO3)

A/N: got to the astral boat scene... cried a lil. got to the mystra meeting... punched my monitor a lil. /j anyways i made a new divider thing cause the other one was a placeholder and uhmm dont judge it pls i am nawwwt an artist i just slapped together some bits n pieces

Word count: 1.2k

He couldn’t have been more than sixty miles from Daggerford when he first felt it. Hardly subtle was the sensation that bordered on the edge of painful – a stinging pain, like a papercut or a pinch – as the orb was disturbed. He pulled his brown mare to a halt, who offered only an irritated whinny, and his palm pressed to his chest. Even when it was buried beneath three layers of fabric, he could feel the buried beat, thumping against his ribs in some attempt to escape. He wasn’t sure if it was the cold or fear that rendered his throat so irrationally dry, and his eyes flicked to the saddlebag to his left, reminding himself that his dagger rested mere inches away, should he need to use it.

Not that he felt it was truly an option he could make – not when they remained in Waterdeep, waiting for him. Not when his mother sent letter after letter requesting his presence, worrying about him spending all of his time in that damned tower. Not when he still had so much to do, to teach, hells – to learn.

But the weave didn’t care. Mortal worries, mortal fears, mortal disobedience. What the weave wanted from him, it would take, and no bargaining would score him any better.

It beats again, but the reasoning is beyond him. He stumbles, awkwardly shifting off of his horse and staggering off of the road, the saddlebag now in his hand. The horse whinnies once more behind him, giving a stomp of disapproval, but it doesn’t yet flee.

Another beat, and this one echoes in the very earth around him, the leaves of the woods – the Misty Forest, he concludes – trembling at the power that he holds? The ground shudders, and again, he stumbles, falling to his knees, dirtying the plush plum of his coat. One hand presses against the trunk of a tree, desperate for stability, and the other rustles through his bag, hissing as his fingers grace the silver blade of his dagger, staining it with fresh blood. Then they find the hilt, and the weapon is retracted. He meets its eyes – his own eyes – and he feels the judgment. The shame.

What a mess he’s become. A terrible waste of talent. A miserable slum of what was once a wonderful wizard. How far he’s sunken, wallowing as a lowlife where he once had a seat at the very table of the Lord’s Helm. A short-lived seat, it was, but the stark difference of status is nauseating.

He hasn’t said all that needs to be said. He hasn’t seen his mothers face in, what, years? Certainly not since this gods-forsaken blight has invaded his body. He hasn’t told her he loves her, not face-to-face, in perhaps even longer. He used to share tea with her every other week. He used to brag to her about his newest studies, read his journals to her as she praised her son as though he’d done something truly life-changing. He’d promised her – promised her that he would do something with them. That, one way or another, he’d change the world, for her, for his prodigious talent, for Mystra–

Gods, Mystra.

They’d never understand. Perhaps nobody could – the mere idea of godhood isn’t something the average mortal fumbles with the concept of. To touch godhood, real godhood, to feel godhood’s embrace, to taste godhood, to love and argue and plead with godhood?

No, nobody could understand.

There was, once, a reason he wrecked his body to such unfathomable levels. A beautiful, divine, wonderfully perfect reason. A reason he’d hunted down the extent of her reaches, dared to tussle with some influence even larger than his goddess, a reason he threatened the very origin of the weave itself.

There was a reason he’d gotten so far, and fallen even further. He liked to believe there was a reason he was chosen. A reason beyond his charm. A reason beyond her playfulness. How arrogant everyone else must have been – reminding him again, and again, and again, that he was not special. Not to her, not to them, hardly even to himself. How sweetly she spoke to him. How highly she praised him. How generous she’d been, to so fondly accept his kisses, his touch, his love, only to sever all ties the instant he strayed too far.

His grip tightens on the dagger, and the earth trembles again – he wants to find a purpose. Beyond being the plaything everyone says he is. Beyond being just a muse in her long history of flings, of mortal manipulation, of abandoned chosen after abandoned chosen. His eyes close, and he tries to find a sense of belonging in his memories with her. Whether it be in her lectures, her fleeting warmth, her luring coos or her mystical prowess.

He tries to find a sense of belonging seated at her side. So many years of his life, wasted to entertain her for a mere fraction of her trite immortality. In decades, he’ll be nothing more than a few lines in even fewer books, a word of warning to young wizards everywhere. He’s read them before, the names thus far belonging to men all but unfamiliar to him. Karsus, Dornar Silverhand, Khelben. Even Elminster shared such similar encounters, only ever brought up in quickly-fading exhales, shame stringing the sentences along, unwilling and cold.

Youth lent him such forgiveness. Disregarding the tales were easy – this Mystra would be different. This Mystra would love him the way he loved her.

But he’s no longer the doe-eyed seventeen year old he was when he granted her the benefit of the doubt. Instead, he’s nearly forty, and tired, and weary, and finding himself at the receiving end of a ridged, steel-forged blade, the orb pulsing, twisting, battling to overrule the beating of his heart.

And the woods shake again, and he feels the apical tip press into his skin, earning a hiss of discomfort from his bared teeth.

He pressures the blade further, but the earth shakes again, and he’s thrown off his balance, the blade lodging instead in his shoulder, and he groans in overwhelming discomfort, his irritation for the misplacement only overshadowed by the pain searing through his nerves.

The orb doesn’t erupt, but the sky certainly does, splitting to cast a large darkness over the forest – over the entire world, for all that he knows. He rolls onto his back, fighting to remove the blade from his shoulder, but his grasps are awkward and far too hesitant. A large, snaking mass of flesh-like anatomy swipes over the forest, knocking trees around him, and his chase for suicide is halted by an intense horror, completely unaware of what in the hells is happening above him. He coughs, choking on his pain, and another curse of biology crashes into the forest.

He’s able to follow the form to its root, finding a terrifically unfamiliar hard-encased body of flight soaring the sky above him. At last, he rips the dagger from his shoulder, crying out at the tearing of muscle, and he instinctually tosses it aside. He hears the horse, at last, galloping to a safety he can only yearn for, and he’s not even granted a chance to see which direction it ran before the appendage of likely certified doom separates into smaller tendrils, the trees knocked aside once more until one grazes his torso, perhaps only by a mere stroke of luck, or the lack thereof, and he’s whisked into a pitch-black loss of consciousness.

#baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #baldur's gate 3 #gale baldurs gate 3 #gale x reader #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #gale bg3 #gale dekarios #gale dekarios x reader #gale dekarios angst #gale dekarios bg3 #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction

58 notes · View notes

loreleywrites · 2 months

Text

Loreley's TTRPG Characters: Kalliope Vex

I had y'all vote in a poll to see which of my TTRPG characters y'all would like to hear about first, and it was a clear win for the most problematic one. Good job, Tumblr! (Genuinely, good job; I love playing Kalliope.)

Kalliope Vex is my character in Armour Astir: Advent by Briar Sovereign, a PBTA game featuring magitech mechs called astirs, big-scope faction turns that change the course of your revolution, and narrative-first rules that embrace all the Cool Robots and War Is Bads a fantasy-bent Gundam-vibed game can offer. You can find it here.

ANYWAY.

Let's start with my favorite picrew I've made of Kalliope:

Kalliope (xe/xer) is 37yo, 6' tall, and weighs just under 200lbs. Xe's got lean muscle, a goth bob, dykey combat boots, and xer left eye has a glowing green iris and black sclera to reflect the power of xer patron. I'm playing the Witch playbook, which means in order to pilot xer astir, Kalliope struck a deal with a mysterious entity known as The Deep to access the powerful magic needed to construct and control such a large machine.

Xe's of the opinion that xe shackled this being in order to use its power, but The Deep has its own plans and helps and hinders Kalliope according to its own whims. Classic D&D warlock vibes.

Kalliope's whole deal at the beginning of our campaign is that xe wants to destroy the fascist empire, the Spellbound Republic, by any means necessary. Xe spent about a decade operating as a rogue astir pilot ambushing Republic squads whenever xe could hunt them down. Now, xe's part of the crew of The Adamant, a carrier operating with Fate's Inflection, the largest anti-fascist resistance force.

Xer astir is named Clatterhulk, and it's largely constructed from leviathan bones and obsidian. The cockpit is accessed by ribs opening up and granting entry. It boasts massive obsidian claws, a mounted cannon of focused bioluminescent light on top of its skull, and carries a sniper rifle that shoots bullets imbued with the crushing pressure of deep ocean trenches. Most notably, the upper arms, upper legs, sternum, and spine of Clatterhulk are etched with a series of arcane glyphs.

Kalliope has the exact same glyphs carved into xer upper arms, upper legs, sternum, and spine. These are glyphs associated with The Deep, and they link Kalliope's magical power to the astir and allow xer to do simple things like control the astir and complicated things like sense the heartbeats of every person in Clatterhulk's range while xe's piloting it.

Born in the slums of Glass Harbor, a coastal city built inside the rim of a massive caldera that embraces Crater Bay, Kalliope endured a childhood under rule of Amaurosia, the Goddess of Fear. Ever defiant, xe didn't understand why even adults let fear rule their lives. Young Kalliope reveled in scaring other children, and as a teenager began to truly understand the power one could gain through fear. Xe watched the Spellbound Republic leverage Amaurosia's power to control the populace, so xe joined an insurgent group called the Shatter Fists. When Kalliope was about 18, the Republic managed to capture and publically execute most of the Shatter Fists, leaving xer functionally alone in the world. This is when xer quest for power brought xer in contact with The Deep, xe constructed Clatterhulk, and xe began a bloodthirsty campaign of vengeance and violence against the Republic.

To Kalliope, all that matters is power. Xe's surly, rude, and arrogant (all to a fault), shielding xerself from having to genuinely connect to another person ever again. Xe doesn't do romance; sadistic hookups are all xe thinks xe needs (Kalliope carries a ritual knife carved from whale bone on a thigh strap, and xe does not practice safe kink with it.) Kalliope doesn't just want to kill fascists, xe wants to hunt and humiliate them. Xe wants to sow fear in their ranks the same way they used fear to rule a city.

Besides breaking pathetic women, Kalliope does enjoy live music and frequents dive bars for the music as much as the women and alcohol (Xe is a heavy drinker.) Despite Kalliope's rough edges, xe is a brilliant engineer and a talented scrimshaw artist (Xer ritual knife depicts a whale locked in combat with a kraken.) Xe also loves lollipops. I don't know why. I think I just loved the idea of xer flirting with someone by taking a lollipop out of xer mouth and shoving it into the other person's. Or crunching it in one bite. Mean ladies can like candy too.

ANYWAY.

Since we've been playing (a few months now), nobody in the crew really likes Kalliope any more than they did at the beginning except Captain Archer Mulligan, the captain of the carrier. He understands that Kalliope has turned xerself into a weapon, and so long as he can aim xer, xe'll be an asset to the war effort.

Xe literally broke xer against the wall trying to punch a squadmate who was laying into xer after xe had to retreat from a sortie xe recklessly launched xerself into.

Kalliope is starting to understand that working with other people, trusting them, can be an asset for xer goals too. The more people xe can leverage in combat, the bigger fights xe can win.

Xe's also started thinking about what happens when there's no more blood to shed. It's not a thought that ever crept into xer mind before (I think xe has internalized that xe's going to die fighting in this war, despite how much xe blusters about killing every last fascist in the world.)

The big development happened only last session, as I have declared a rival for xer! There's this sniper working for the council of fascist demigods whose gun can literally take down astirs, Ririka. Ririka has escaped from multiple sorties, so during the last downtime, Kalliope hunted her down to a dive bar and confronted her with the intent to intimidate her before xe inevitably kills xer. This is the most genuine way Kalliope has ever flirted with anyone, but I don't think xe knows it yet. I'm looking forward to seeing how badly Kalliope and Ririka fuck up each other's lives. Maybe they kiss! Maybe they don't. Gotta play to find out what happens.

Well, I think that about covers what I was planning on sharing. I hope y'all enjoyed hearing about this mess of a character I'm currently playing. Happy to answer questions about xer if folks are curious.

#loreleys OCs #kalliope vex #armour astir #ttrpg #wlw #lesbian #sapphic

22 notes · View notes

salternateunreality2 · 3 months

Text

AGSZC Protecting Each Other's Innocence: Genesis

Genesis was worn out. It had been a long day full of guts and glory, and taking down high-level monsters for ungrateful board members. The only thing he wanted to do was shower and sleep. He scrolled through his emails mindlessly in the elevator, cringing at all he had to do the next day.

Until suddenly, there one was! Genesis almost squeaked in excitement, instantly forgetting his obligations. His eyes watered and he eagerly clicked on the email.

Dear Commander Rhapsodos,

I hope you are having an excellent day. I heard of your exploits in the slums the other day and was impressed you took on that creature singlehandedly.

But more to the point, I am wondering what your thoughts are on the new independent Loveless production showing in district 4. My friend and I went, and while I believe the spirit of Act 1 was fully supported, I feel further acts were lacking in some way, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Perhaps the modern set dressing distracted me.

Additionally, I believe the actress for the part of the goddess was stunning.

What were your thoughts?

Respectfully and gratefully,

Pierre

Genesis smiled graciously as the line about his exploits, pursed his lips for the discussion of the new play, and outright scoffed at the comment on the goddess. Pierre could be such an idiot sometimes, but so stimulating to talk to about Loveless.

Genesis knew his obsession could get grating, so while he teased his friends, he let them off the hook for the majority of his discussions. It was hard, though, to find anyone who would engage with him fully on the subject, and wasn't just interested in himself.

Pierre had stellar timing too; dropping emails only every now and then, but usually right when he needed them most; during trying periods at work or long solo missions.

Sure, he frequented message boards, but no one there seemed to truly understand him, and if he dared remove the protection of a pseudonym, they would only mindlessly agree with him. Pierre always agreed on the most fundamental aspects of the text, but fought back on the minutiae.

Genesis grinned and started typing.

---------

"Pierre at this Pierreagraph, Cloud," said Zack. "What even is 'maudlin'? Dang, we're going to have to loop Seph in for a bunch of this..."

"Zack, shut up, he'll be here soon! He can't know we're Pierre," hissed Cloud, barely loud enough for Zack to hear.

Angeal ruffled Zack's hair as he set his tray of cafeteria food down.

"He's right, puppy, you're lucky he's finishing reports."

"Who's finishing reports?" Sephiroth asked, following closely behind Angeal.

"Gen. I bet he was up all night again, so he's making up for it," said Zack, stealing a fry.

"Ah, of course. I'm glad he enjoyed the email, though I can't say I'm fully prepared fo-"

The cafeteria doors burst open.

"When the war of the beasts brings about the world's end..." Genesis began, regaling the entire cafeteria with the opening lines to the play.

"...for that," finished Sephiroth. Zack waved eagerly to Genesis, who finished the first stanza while the cafeteria staff hurriedly filled his tray. The faster he was fed, the sooner he'd shut up.

Eventually the commander made his way over to their little table with pep in his step and a twinkle in his eye. The eye bags were invisible under several layers of well-applied makeup, but the crew knew they were there.

"Hello Cloud, Puppy, Sephiroth, and Angeal. How are we today?" he asked, not expecting an answer. "I must tell you, I had the most intellectually stimulating conversation last night with a true lover of the arts. Not that...ZACKARY YOUR SHIRT IS NOT A NAPKIN...not that present company much cares, but my associate, Pierre, caught onto the unsettling nature of acts 2 and 3 of the adaptation I saw the other night..."

Genesis prattled on happily for the rest of lunch, completely unaware that he was feeding spies valuable intel for their next email. It was always a group effort, but they tried their best, and it was totally worth it to see the smile on Gen's face.

#ff7 #sephiroth #cloud strife #zack fair #genesis rhapsodos #angeal hewley

22 notes · View notes

jojikawa · 9 months

Text

𝘋𝘪𝘰 𝘪𝘯 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯 — 𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘸

art credits • dividers • The Bride of Dio

Maron’s Notes: This takes place AFTER The Bride of Dio (even though it is still on-going as of July 2023) I planned on making a post-JoJo Part 3 Series and this is a snippet of the beginning of it. It doesn’t spoil the events of the current story. You just need to have watched JoJo part 3 to kinda understand what’s going on!

This is where we begin to diverge from the ending of Stardust Crusaders and more into the territory of my own original content with my favorite characters. Thank you for supporting me and I hope you enjoy what I’ve been writing so far.

Started: May 6, 2023 at 3:53 PM

All of his life, Dio Brando, was described to be a demon. His methods, attitude, state-of-mind was reminiscent of the Lucifer himself. In the slums of London, he was once told that “the devil smiles upon him” through the birthmark that could be found upon his ear by a fortune teller. Then again by his associate named Enyaba. His actions for the rest of his life seemed to prove this fortune true. Dio became a menace.

Dio was always self-destructive and acted in self interest. He cared little of who he hurt, as long as he would get what he wanted from whoever he was taking it from. This caused him to ruin every good thing he’s ever earned in his life. The most notable thing being his wife. She was the only person that ever lived with the strength to love a hellspawn like him.

And he knew that.

Dio wanted nothing but to give her the world—in his way. He didn’t want to settle for mundane life with her. It wasn’t enough. He wanted to be a King—A God; her his Goddess. He wanted his beautiful wife to be just like him. He wanted her to be just as ruthless and cold to her subjects and enemies. She would mother his children; any that he gave her. They would all rule the world while his kin were able to take whatever they wanted for themselves.

It didn’t turn out that way…and it was the fault of the Joestars. The JoJo that he failed to kill: Jotaro Kujo, empowered with a stand reminiscent of Jonathan Joestar himself. Dio swore, that in his final moments, he could see Jonathan’s face of disappointment within Jotaro. The only thing he could think was that he should’ve killed Erina too.

But what of you, his wife? Well, Dio didn’t know. He didn’t know if he’d ever see you again. You most likely didn’t want to. Now, that he has learned that there is indeed an afterlife, he assumed you’d be in Heaven. Your crimes compared to his were mere child’s play. Any sims you committed could easily be forgiven. The two of you had been separated for some time. He didn’t think the day would come where he would see the end of his suffering…

…but it did.

Dio Brando atoned for all the sins he committed in his lifetime and was now allowed to go to Heaven. The Devil wasn’t as kind to Dio as he had been gaslit to think his whole life, no, he was treated the exact same. (If not, worse.) Perhaps, Heaven prove to be sweeter to him.

From the pits of Hell, Dio was rescued by an Angel that brought him to safety. He wasn’t able to see his Savior until the blood red sky he was so familiar with turned into one of baby blue. The Angel was abnormally big, being of blond hair and olive skin just like him. They were male presenting with enormous wings and a spotless white robe, carrying Dio as if he were a sack of potatoes. The two of them reached Heaven’s entrance where he was then thrown to the ground.

“Stand, worm.” The Angel’s voice was deep as it rumbled the ground. Dio, on his hands and knees, could only take in the scenery around him. It was beautiful. The sky burned his eyes before they were adjusted to the sudden change. Around him were clouds that you could stand on, white marble pillars and structures. This was Heaven?

Suddenly, an anger filled Dio that not even the seven Hells could contain. His ego was too strong to be humbled by Hell itself. His eyes narrowed at the Angel, his nose scrunching up in disgust as he jumped to his feet. He wore clothes that were torn, tattered and he was barefoot as well. Hell sure didn’t care about your quality of life.

“Worm!?” Dio repeated. He approached the Angel before him, not at all caring about how less intimidating he looked compared to this supreme being before him. “How dare you!?” He grabbed a fist of the Angel’s garbs. He pulled him closer as he screamed in his face. “Do you know who I am!? I am—“

Dio was struck across the face, once again being leveled with the ground. The man had only been hit a few times within his life but this was like no other.

“You are a worm. You are a sinner. The only reason why I have brought you here is through the request of another.” The Angel spoke through his clenched jaw, voice laced with venom and hatred for the mortal before him.

‘…request of another…?’

“Now, go before I change my mind and drop you back down there.” The Angel shoo’d Dio away, gesturing towards Heaven’s gates in front of him. They were marvelous and just the way they had been imagined in various medias in the world of the living.

With much uncertainty, Dio climbed to his feet and made his way through the gates. He suddenly felt more at ease, the same way one would after putting on nice clean clothes after a shower. Looking down at himself, he saw that his clothes were no longer shredded rags. They were now reminiscent of the things he wore as a young man. A white dress shirt and beige colored bottoms. It was definitely his style as he was unable to let go of the Victorian style fashion that he grew up in.

There was no one else around him and no directions. He would only put together that he needed to keep walking forward; and he did. Dio didn’t cover a lot of distance before he heard faint voices talking. He wasn’t able to tell what any of them were saying until he got closer.

“Calm down, child. You mustn’t worry yourself with such trivial things. I’ve already sent Azriel.” A feminine voice, one that sounded of a mother; a tone that anyone could recognize. “But you told me that he would arrive today!” The second voice was also feminine extremely familiar. Dio could recognize that whining anywhere!

Then he heard a male sigh. “Angela’s right, (y/n). You don’t need to be upsetting yourself. We don’t know when—“ the man then gasped. “There he is! Dio!”

It was you and…Jonathan.

“Dio!?” You perked up, looking to your far left to see it was none other than your husband. A well of emotions bubbled inside of you once you saw him. You gasped as well, running over to him for a sweet embrace. Dio looked extremely confused, hesitant to wrap his arms around you.

“This isn’t an illusion…?” Dio rested his chin upon your head, feeling your warmth once again. You couldn’t help but laugh. “Of course not, Dio!” You pulled away, holding his hands and intertwining your fingers. “I missed you so much.”

Dio’s eyes widened. You missed him?

Hi, again! This is just a tidbit for now. I kinda work ahead whenever I get stuck. I wish we got more Dio content in JJBA so I had more events to insert the reader into. Coming up with original content and scenarios is hard 🗿

#jojo x reader #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo imagines #jjba headcanons #dio x black reader #The Bride of Dio #dio imagines #dio headcanons #dio x reader #dio brando x reader #dio x you

62 notes · View notes

colourful-jack · 11 months

Text

Paper Talk Special: YOSHIHARA Rieko's interview (1989)

“Riki is an almost full-grown black panther”

YOSHIHARA Rieko has written in a wide variety of genres, from high-school stories to fantasy and science fiction. If there is one thing her characters, like Aki and Kacchan or Iason and Riki, have in common, it’s their impressive charisma. We had the opportunity to ask her more about Ai no kusabi in this interview.

Profile

Pen name’s origin: My birth name. My family name changed when I got married, so I thought “nobody would know it’s me!”.

Date of birth: October 4th, 1954

Blood type: B

Place of birth and residence: born in Fukuoka Prefecture, living in Kumamoto Prefecture

What made you send your manuscript to the magazine: It had been a long night…

1. What made you start writing Ai no kusabi?

I didn’t really… want to write about “pure love” in a science fiction setting (ah ah ah), because I wanted to write about an “encounter” than would not just be casual, the bonds it would create and the various feelings they would draw along.

2. Which character can you empathize with the most?

Probably Riki, as one could expect. Because, even though he has a sharp tongue and is quite mature, his way of thinking is fundamentally straight. Him running around struggling yet unable to act, because he’s caught between two feelings of different natures, makes him seductive, I like it.

3. What is your favourite scene? And what is a line you like?

My favourite, hmm… It would have to be the scene where Katze cries while stifling his voice. But I also cannot put aside the scene where Riki is kept waiting in vain in the rain by Guy… As for the lines, those would be “there’s no way I’m letting him die alone” or “you may be able to look the other way despite everything, but I… wouldn’t be worth more than trash if I did. I couldn’t go on living.”

4. Could you tell us about the creation process of the characters, like Riki and Iason? (size, weight, blood type, date of birth, etc.)

I had their personality roughly figured out, so I didn’t think about their finer characteristics, but…

Riki: Because he’s a slum mongrel, I pictured him as an almost full-grown black panther. Not frail, but slender and lithe. As for his appearance, his intelligence shines through the strength of his obstinate spirit, that’s all.

Iason: Since he’s an absolutely perfect member of the elite and the Black Market’s king, he should definitely be like the God of the Sun Apollo, but raised in the depths of the sea (or something). He’s shrewd and good-looking, incredibly proud, and wouldn’t collapse under any circumstances. Regarding his height, all things considered, he’s a head taller that Riki.

Guy: In my first draft, he was a tolerant and broad-minded herbivorous felid… that was my intention, but I wonder where and how things went wrong.

Raoul: His looks, intellect and handsomeness are on par with Iason’s. He has a sense of humour and, even more than Iason, nerves of steel.

Katze: Went from being raised in the slums to being a Furniture in Eos to being a broker on the black market. Putting aside the protagonists, he’s the one with the most dramatic life, so that’s probably why I gave him a tragic handicap, like being a scarface or being a man without manhood…

Kirie: Representing slum dwellers in their late teens, he’s overconfident and reckless. He has a very limited worldview, so he’s the most fragile yet also the most dangerous character.

5. Concerning the way you chose the characters’ names, you previously said you were “drawn to the “dragon” kanji”, were you fixated on something like that for Ai no kusabi?

This time I wanted to give them names that would fit their character, so… I gave Riki a name conveying “power” (riki is one of the few ways to read the kanji meaning “power”), I named Iason after a hero from Greek mythology, and Guy after the goddess of the Earth, Gaia, for his ability to embrace everything. But when you list them, they’re not consistent. All things considered, you could say they’re just far-fetched choices, ah ah ah…

6. Writing Ai no kusabi, what did you enjoy? What did you find difficult?

For the most of it, the story was ever changing with the characters’ feelings, so until I had reached the ending, I had fun worrying (somehow) while writing. Difficult things that would bring wrinkles to my forehead, I tend not to think too much about them.

7. A number of different types of Pet Rings appear in readers’ four-case mangas, but how do you picture them yourself?

No, well, when it comes to Riki’s, its basic image was something like Sun Wukong’s circlet. Looking at it like this makes Journey to the West quite salacious too… don’t you think?

8. Could you tell us your thoughts about the cassette adaptation?

I thought “Are you sure we can really do that?”… but when it became real, well, I mean, ah ah ah, what could I say? As you know, this work involves many human relationships, some violent lines, and it’s quite heavy on that. “How can we make all that fit in 60 minutes?” I wondered… When I heard the tape for the first time, it dawned on me that letters and voices are truly two completely different things, obviously. I wrote it, so it’s weird for me to say that, but I thought “can I really make Mr SEKI and Mr SHIOZAWA say those things?”… on the other hand, when I wondered what faces they made then, Tokyo felt so far away… So those were my thoughts. But everyone used their beautiful voice to give impassioned performances, so I’m very happy!

9. And lastly, what is June to you?

A breather between child rearing and house chores, a teatime friend… or something like that. (October 1989)

#ai no kusabi #yoshihara rieko #interview #小説june #間の楔

79 notes · View notes

chickensarentcheap · 3 months

Text

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: (Strictly platonic) Esme Drummond (OFC) and Yaz Khan

Face claims: Rachel Bilson and Adam Bessa

My peeps: @tragiclyhip @munstysmind @themaradwrites @youflickedtooharddamnit @secretaryunpaid @ninjasawakenedmystar @thebejeweledwatercat @kmc1989 @karimac @alisbackalleybbq @residentdormouse @asirensrage @theesirenteller and anyone else who reads/supports :D

BELOW THE CUT

“Are we talking gross and wrinkled old man? Or are we talking like Paul Newman level of hot old man? Because if it’s not the latter…”

“I’ll give him Paul Newman level.”

“Good for her. ‘Cause I would have hit old man Paul Newman in a heartbeat. Well, at least she’s not slumming. Because that last guy? The boy toy…”

“He was a complete tool.”

“That’s putting it lightly. I mean, he didn’t even appreciate her. He had this total goddess fawning all over him; giving him a fancy place to live, spoiling the shit out of him, paying all his bills, putting expensive clothes on his back. And what did he do? Cheat. The ungrateful fuck. He was nothing when she met him, and I bet he’s back to being nothing now.”

“We both warned her. That he was a piece of shit. And while I wouldn’t say ‘I told you so’ to her face…”

“She’d smack the ever-loving shit out of you.”

“...I can at least say it to you. It hasn’t been easy not having you around, you know. I got used to having someone on my side. Sticking up for me. Helping me talk the she-beast down from time to time.”

“Believe me, in hindsight, being around here would have been a lot better than where I ended up.”

“You mean with Alessio? Or Winston?”

“I think it’s safe to say that ‘both’ is an acceptable answer.”

“Speaking of ‘I told you so’....”

“Remember, I’m not completely feeble now, Yaz. I happen to have just enough strength to slap you upside the head. So tread lightly.”

#Tyler and Esme series #Lost and Found

13 notes · View notes

sassyduckqueen · 2 years

Text

The Fox and The Fae

Ok so this is my take on a modern day fairytale kind of story. Would you guys like some more chapters? I've currently marked it as a one shot but I'm thinking about adding some other chapters focusing on Alya, Chloe (or Zoe possibly) and maybe some other characters and the deals (or curses) they make with or from Luka.

=====================================================

Lila looked around with an expression of disgust on her face as she walked down the steps towards the Seine. It was the last place she wanted to be, especially with how unsightly it was but she was desperate. In her mind, she believed that she should be worshiped by all who saw her. She was a goddess and deserved to be treated as such. However, her life was not what she envisioned at all. She was almost 21 and she still wasn't famous or adored. She still wasn't filthy rich or had a hot and rich guy on her arm. The media had no idea who she was and she was working as a lowly advert actress and a small time model when she deserved to be up there with a A listers. Well, that life wasn't good enough for her but she didn't want to have to work for it. Oh no, Lila believed that what she wanted should be handed to her on a silver platter. She was destined to be one of the elite and she knew it. However, her usual methods of cheating and leeching off others didn't working in the way she wanted so she had to come up with something, which is what lead her to The Seine or as she called it the slum area. Paris itself was home to many supernatural creatures and she had tried every trick in the book but they weren't good enough. Nothing was. She had been to several of the supernaturals in the city but they could only offer her charms to briefly improve her luck or a hex that will curse her enemies. Some had offered her spells to bring in some positivity or some had done rituals for her but none of them lasted and she wanted something more effective and permanent. She wanted her name to be remembered forever and for anyone who had tried to cross her to get exactly what they deserve and suffer. Naturally there had been some in her life but one stuck out. Marinette Dupain-Cheng. A half breed witch who tried to expose her in their school and was currently living a good life. Well, that wasn't fair which is what lead her to here. Of course, she wouldn't be seen dead here normally but she had tried everything else so now she was going to the place where she knew someone would be able to help her. However, she went in disguise. She couldn't risk been seen here plus the Seine was rough. It was home to the low class humans, witches and worst of all the fae, an extremely attractive race with a reputation worst then werewolves. The fae were treated poorly, forced to live in awful conditions and were labeled as scum, tricksters and other degrading names. Despite this, they were one of the most powerful race when it came to using magic and the only creatures that could give her what she wanted. Due to been very unpopular in Paris, they were hard to find but she had managed to track one down with the help of her sheep, Alya. The fae supposedly lived in a houseboat in the Seine river and was her last hope. However, he had a rep of been a bad guy and been extremely dangerous but Lila didn't care. She wanted her promised life and would do anything to get it. She came to a stop as she saw the boat she was looking for, frowning to herself before she took out a fox tail pendent and put it on. One of the reasons why people didn't like the fae was because of their ability to detect when people were truthful or not. No one quite understood how it worked but faes were said to be able to look into the very soul of people and that made them uncomfortable, which was why Lila had the pendent. It had a powerful charm on that would protect from the fae's truth seeking eyes. Satisfied with it, she stepped over to the boat and climbed onto the gangplank before heading onto the boat. She grimaced at the scattered boxes and papers that littered the deck but shook it off. She walked over to the entrance to the cabin and began to descend down the stairs into darkness.

"Hello?" She called, looking around but she couldn't really see anything. "Is anyone home?"

"Oh, we have a visssstor," A voice hissed, making her jump and look where it came from. Instantly, she saw two glowing eyes that were teal green in color and snakelike.

"I don't recall having any visitors," A second voice added, though this one sounded more human. It was actually a very nice voice. It was softly spoken and almost musical. Almost instantly, she felt her body relax as she walked over, unconsciously drawn to it. Another reason why people hated faes. They were naturally seductive with how they were and how they spoke. "And what do you want?"

Oh, she could listen to that voice all day... but she needed to remember why she was here.

"I..." She mumbled, shaking her off the fog in her mind and putting on her innocent act. "I hear you have the power to give people their hearts desire,"

"Hmm," He replied as she watched. The eyes moved suggesting the fae was getting up before a light came on, revealing a large amount of snake tanks and a young man. Lila studied him as he glanced at her. He was very attractive but the fae were supernaturally beautiful. His hair was black with teal blue highlights and his skin looked slightly tanned. He wore black ripped joggers and a white tank top, showing off his toned arms that had tattoos of snakes going up them. It was clear that the fae had snakelike features too. The most obvious was his eyes but he also had a number of green teal scales across his arms and neck. Lila felt a little uncomfortable as she glanced at him but that discomfort turned to fear as she felt something sliver over her feet. She looked down and screamed as she saw a snake that looked up at her and stuck its tongue out. She felt panic rise as she wanted to kick it but before she could, the fae was in front of her. "Not fond of my reptile friends hmm?"

"I... I'm afraid of snakes," She gasped, actually telling the truth for once. The fae smiled at her before turning away. "Could we go outside?"

"Why? They're not going to bite and most of them aren't poisonous," He replied, looking back at her. That's when she noticed the snake resting around his neck. It would have been beautiful to anyone not afraid of them. It was teal green with dark teal diamonds across it's body and a hood around it's head like a cobra. His eyes searched her features, making her feel like he was searching her soul before they flickered down and landed on her foxtail pendent before he sat back down and glanced at her. "Well, aren't you here for a reason? Tell me what you desire, Little Fox,"

"I... I would like to be famous," She replied, trying to seek shy and meek. "It's been my desire-"

"So you want a little fame?"

"A little fame? I want more then just a little fame!" She gasped, pinching her nose before realizing she almost lose her cool. She took a deep breathe and shot him a smile. Not that he was looking. He was holding one of his snakes and sticking his tongue out at it in a playful manner. It made her feel sick when she saw it was forked. "I mean I want to be the most famous person on the planet if you can do that. I really want my name in every newspaper and to be up there on the red carpet with all of the A listers. I want to be so famous no one will ever forget my name,"

"Interesting," He replied as she took a breathe. "I can definitely do that. Is there anything else you want?"

"Oh yes, there is," She replied, ready to turn on the water works. "T-There's this woman who has been making my life awful since high school. Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She use to bully me and she constantly makes it hard for me to reach and work for companies. I'm sure she's had me blacklisted. I can't even order of her website because of this,"

She began to cry, making the fae frown but not for the reasons she thought. He heard the name Marinette Dupain-Cheng before. He was sure she was a friend of his sister and Juleka had said she was nice. He turned his attention to Lila. Depending on what she said depended on what he could do.

"I'm sorry... I just..." She sniffed. "I j-just want her to finally get what she deserves. I've tried to be the bigger person but... she just doesn't stop,"

"I see," He replied, frowning. He wasn't sure he believed her but he couldn't tell with her pendent on. Luckily, she had said 'get what she deserved' which meant he could easily work it so he doesn't harm her. 'Getting what she deserves' can be considered a grey area, meaning he can do anything he wanted as long as he deemed it 'what she deserved'. Yes, he could still honor the contract without harming anyone. Sure, he had cursed a few people but he didn't like to if he didn't have to. "Well, I can easily do those things. Fame and fortune. It's yours and getting even with this person. Easily done,"

"Really?" She gasped, surprised. "When can you do it?"

"I can start immediately. Of course, it will take a little time for your fame to skyrocket but I promise it will," He replied, making her frown a little. "It's only natural that I have to make some spells and pull some strings but of course, none of this can happen until we've discussed a price that is,"

"A Price?" She questioned surprised. She had heard Faes didn't charge a fee. "I was unaware,"

"Of course, my services don't come free," He replied, smirking. She frowned as if she hadn't expected that. "All magic comes with a price, Lila and fae magic is typical expensive,"

"Expensive?" She echoed. "I don't have a lot of money,"

"My price is fairly simple in it's nature but still rather costly," He replied, waving his hand. A contract appeared out of thin air, making Lila gasp. "€150. Once you sign the contract, it can't be altered or amended,"

"That's all?" She asked, making him nod. She would have to live with all her fame and her enemies getting what they deserve. It sounded like a fair price to her. "That seems pretty cheap and fair to me,"

"Then if you're satisfied, sign the contract," He smiled, holding out a pen. Lila snatched it out of his hand and grabbed the paper, signing on the line at the bottom. As soon as she did, the contract and pen appeared in the fae's hand. "Excellent! Glad to do business with you, Little Fox,"

"Oh thank you so much!" She gasped, smiling before she left as he smiled back. As soon as she did, the smile left his face as his snake moved around his neck.

"She wass wearing a protection amulet," The snake hissed. "Are we sure she's telling the truth? Should we grant her wissh, Luka?"

"A deal is a deal, Sass," He replied, folding up the contract and putting it with the others he had. "She will have her fame and Miss Dupain-Cheng will get everything she deserves,"

~A Couple of Weeks Later~

Since making the deal with the fae, Lila's life had dramatically improved. She went from been a barely known actress to an A-star Celebrity. Woman wanted to be her and men wanted her. She had adoring fans who screamed her name and cried when she walked past. She had landed herself in a relationship with a pretty handsome man. She was on top of the world and richer then she had ever imagined. She had it all but it wasn't enough. She could have all the money and fame in the world and it would still not be enough because Marinette Dupain-Cheng hadn't suffered yet. Her business was still successful. She hadn't been made an example of nor had she disappeared of the face of the earth. If anything, she was getting more popular. To say Lila wasn't happy was an understatement. Sure, the fae had told her that it would take sometime but she wanted her nemesis to fall now! Which was why she was storming towards the fae's boathouse to demand he destroy her life. She stormed onto the boat and stalked into the living area, where the fae was sat with his snakes.

"Hello, Little Fox," He stated, making her glare at him. "Something wrong?"

"Wrong?!" She screeched, making him frown. "Wrong?! You were suppose to punish Marinette and make her suffer!"

"Hmm I don't recall that been in the contract," He replied, making her grit her teeth. "But I don't really see the issue. You have your fame and fortune. Why fixate on Marinette?"

"Because I want her to suffer!" She screamed, stamping her foot before she pointed at him. "That was part of our deal! You need to honor it! My wish was for her to suffer!"

"Incorrect," He replied, causing their contract to appear in a puff of teal smoke. "I have it right here and it states 'I want Marinette to get what she deserves' nothing more, nothing less. Since you failed to specify exactly what that was, I decided the best course of action was to leave her alone since that's what she deserved,"

"What?!" She screamed. "You useless puck!"

The entire room's feeling changed as soon as that word left her mouth. The term puck was considered extremely offensive against the fae. It basically implied that they were nothing but pranksters and trouble makers. The fae's eyes turned green and more snakelike as Lila stepped back, realizing her mistake before she ran out of the boathouse. The fae's eyes narrowed as he watched her scamper out. She thought she could run from him but that wouldn't help her. He had cursed people for less.

"Luka," Sass's voice made him look over and stroke the snake's chin. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine, Sass," He replied, looking at the contract in his hand. "Isn't the first time and won't be the last I've been called that but like the last time, her deed won't go unpunished,"

"What do you intend to do?"

"Lila asked for fame and for this girl to get what she deserved right?" He answered, making the snake nod. "Well then I think Miss Rossi should get exactly that. By the time, I'm done with her, she'll wish she never met me but first I think it's time I paid Miss Dupain-Cheng a visit to determine exactly what she deserves. Though I have a feeling it won't be what Lila envisioned,"

"And the fame part?"

"Oh, I'll give her a week to enjoy her new lifestyle while I deal with the second part of her contract. Once that's done, Lila will go down in history. Everyone will know her name and never forget her," Luka replied, making the snake look at him but the devious smirk on his lips told him that it was as simple as Lila been famous for been an actress. "She will get exactly what she wanted whenever she wants it or not,"

"She'll learn the hard way why one should not make themselves the enemy of a fae,"

~Marinette's Shop~

Marinette hummed to herself as she flicked through the magazine she was reading. Lila had been on the front cover but despite what people now believed about her, Marinette wasn't mad. She was actually happy for Lila. She had never wanted to be her enemy and just didn't get why the girl couldn't be honest. Even after Lila had tried to destroy her, Marinette had given her a second chance. Come clean to the class and all will be forgiven. She had done the same with Chloe so she could do the same with Lila. Unfortunately Lila decided not to and proceed to turn almost everyone against Marinette. Something that lasted through her adult life too. Even after they had left school and moved on their careers, Lila chose to slam her at every chance she could. Whenever it was a snide comment when she saw her, whispering horrible rumors about her to her ex best friend who would then post said rumors on her news blog or just leaving a bad review on her shop, Lila was determined to ruin her. Luckily, she still had a small number on her side but she had lost a lot of 'friends' to Lila over the years but she guessed they weren't her true friends anyway. If they were, they wouldn't have believed Lila nor encouraged her to do the embarrassing and frankly creepy things in her attempt to get the attention of Adrien Agreste, one of the few faes in the city who weren't treated badly. That was probably because he was rich and part of the seelie court, which was also known as the summer court but he didn't stay by her side, despite insisting he was. No, he insisted she take the 'high road' and got annoyed at her when she decided not after losing her crush on him. Honestly, she didn't see what her younger self saw in him. She was grateful to the people who did stay by her side though. One of the people who did side with her was part of the seelie court just like Adrien but she was treated badly due to her choice of lover. Her name was Rose and her girlfriend was Juleka, the other person who stayed on Marinette's side. The thing was Juleka was half fae, half human. She didn't fit in anywhere. She was considered a freak to most witches and humans for been half fae, she didn't fit in with the seelie court as her family were part of the unseelie court but she didn't really fit in with them either. Though from what she had told Marinette, none of her family members fitted in with the unseelie court despite been full bloods either. In school, she was picked on for it, especially by Chloe, though the blonde had since changed her tune after been cursed by Juleka's brother. According to her, her brother was one of the most powerful faes in the unseelie court and had cursed Chloe with a karma spell. To say it humbled her was an understatement and she wasn't the first person to be cursed by him nor the last. Apparently, he had cursed the musician XY and his father, Chloe's own family and a number of other people but from what Marinette had heard, most of them deserved it. That didn't mean she wasn't afraid of him. She had made a mental note to never piss him off if she met him. Of course, his curses had put him at odds with the magical councils yet he got away with it. She was pretty sure he only got away with it because they were scared of him and because none of his 'victims' had been mortally wounded nor were they really victims. It had turned out that each one of them had done something wrong. XY and his father had stolen music and other creative ideas from a number of musicians, Chloe's family were corrupt to the bone and arguable to blame for Chloe's own behavior. Sure, she was partly to blame as well but she never would have become that bad in the first place if her parents hadn't given into her every whim. His other victims were far from innocent too. They ranged from criminal gangs to other corrupted politicians. Either way, his curses had been blessings in disguise. Chloe had since became a way better person, her family humbled, the artists that had their work had their thieves brought to justice and their work returned to them and the victims of the other cursed got justice. All in all, it worked out for the better. The bell rang, making her jump a little and look up.

"Hi, welcome-" The greeting died in her throat as she stared at the very fae she had been thinking about. Luka Couffaine, Juleka's older brother. She never thought she would ever see him in her store. From what she knew, he tended to stay at his boathouse at the Seine, preferring to deal with his magic and his snakes but she had seen enough photos of him to recognize him. As she stared at him, the fear she felt disappeared and was replaced by attraction. She knew fae were extremely beautiful. Rose, Adrien and Juleka all were but Luka was something else. Not only was he gorgeous but he had an air about him too. Everything about him screamed hot. His hair, his body shape and his eyes. Oh his eyes. They were so hard to look from. They were snakelike but ocean blue in color. As he stepped into the shop, Marinette couldn't help the little whine that escaped her lips. She felt like she was in the presence of an actual god. The pictures she had seen did not do him any justice at all. "H-Hi, can I help you?"

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng?" He asked, making her want to faint with just the way he said her name. She weakly nodded and tried not to faint as he tilted his head to the side as a smile appeared on his lips. "Well, Juleka never told me how pretty you were,"

"I... um..." She blushed as he smiled. "S-Same here,"

He chuckled as she went bright red before he closed the door.

"I need to talk to you about a recent contract of mine," He stated, making her frown. Luka was what you might call a deal maker but it was rare for a witch to get involved with it. She walked over to the door and moved the sign to say closed. "Is there somewhere private we can go?"

"We can talk in the back," She replied, making him nod and follow her as she lead him to her reading room. "So this contract-"

"I was contracted by one Lila Rossi to make her famous and to give you 'what you deserve'," He stated, making her frown. So that's how Lila got famous and now he was here to act Lila's revenge. She frowned but she wasn't surprised. She closed her eyes, waiting for him to curse her but when it didn't occur, she opened her eyes and found him look at her with interest. "There's more to the story,"

"Oh?" She asked, feeling a little silly.

"Don't feel silly. It's a natural reaction to assume I'm here to exact her 'vengeance' and technically I am here to honor that part of the contract," He replied, making her gulp. "However, Lila failed to tell me exactly what she wanted. She told me to 'give you what you deserve'. I decided to leave you alone but apparently that wasn't good enough for her so she came by and demanded I do my job,"

He rolled her eyes at that.

"She was extremely angry that I had decided that course of action to the extend where she called me a 'useless puck'," He explained, making Marinette gasp and began to apology to him. He held up his hand, stopping her. Though he appreciated the sentiment. "You do not need to apology for her. I simply came here to talk to and determine exactly what I should give you,"

"Give me?"

"Part of Lila's contract was to 'give you what you deserved' which is why I'm here. I need to determine exactly what that is since she never actually said," He explained, making Marinette nod. "But in order to do so I need to know the full story. Why does Lila Rossi hate you so much?"

"Because I caught onto her lies," Marinette sighed, making Luka frown. He had suspected that Lila had been lying but hearing it from someone else annoyed him more. This was no longer just about contracts and magic. This was now about pride. Lila thought she could fool him and get him to do her dirty work while getting to live a good life. Well, not on his watch. "That's why she wants me to get what I deserve. She's made it her mission to destroy me,"

"So she does lie. How disappointing," He muttered, frowning. It wasn't a surprise. Faes themselves couldn't lie and had to tell the truth but they also couldn't stand liars. "That explains her pendent,"

"So what are you going to do?" She asked as he made a face. "I know a little about contracts and I know they are unbreakable. Whatever you do, she'll use it to her advantage as long as she has that silver tongue of hers. It's her biggest strength. I know from personal experience. No matter what I did to show people the truth about her, she always spun it to make me look like the bad guy and she'll do the same to you. You try and break the contract, she'll made it so you're the bad guy. You try to alter it and she'll make you look evil. You have no choice but to honor it in the way she intended,"

"I see," He muttered, making her frown. She would have some sort of punishment. "Then I'm going to honor it,"

"Then please don't be too harsh on me," She muttered, closing her eyes as Luka stepped closer to her. "I accept whatever you decide to curse me with,"

"I'm not going to curse you," He replied in a gentle voice, causing her to snap open her eyes. "Did Juleka tell you why us unseelie are hated compared to the fae of the seelie court?"

"No?"

"It's because people believe us to be malicious," He replied, making her frown. "But the truth is we're not. No fae is benevolent or malicious. We simply grant what we are asked to so when I say I'm going to honor her contract, it will be done to the exact detail,"

"But isn't that giving her what she wants?" Marinette asked, confused. "She'll be happy with it. I suffer and she gets to be the most famous person,"

"Oh, I doubt she'll be happy with what she gets, Marinette," He smiled in a dark manner. "You see we unseelie are what you might call tricksters and mischievous. We have no rules nor do we play to others. Lila thinks she can control me but she can't. Personally, I don't like it went people act entitled nor do I like been insulted so it's my duty to punish her for her entitled and frankly awful behaviour. Lila wants fame. Well, I'll make sure no one will ever forget her name again. She wants you to 'get what you deserve' then I'll do exactly that. She's going to get exactly what she asked for whenever she liked it or not,"

"I think I understand," She replied, nodding. "I'm just sorry you had to take her job,"

"Hmm, I'm not," He replied, shrugged. "Paid for food for a week. Besides, I get to punish one of the wicked again and I know exactly how to turn this around without breaching my contract with her. Starting with you,"

Marinette closed her eyes as she expected him to reign down fury and fire on her but to her surprise, she simply felt his lips brush against her cheek as he placed a gentle kiss there. She opened her eyes as she felt magic flow through her body but it didn't feel wicked or cursed. It felt... good and light. Like she was on cloud nine. It continued to flow even as he pulled away.

"As par to my contract, I have given you what you deserve," He stated, making her look at him. "Which is a blessing of prosperity. May your future be a bright one,"

"A blessing?" She asked, generally surprised. "But isn't that breaking your contract?"

"No, it isn't," He smiled, making her blush a little. "Lila only said to give you what you deserved. She never said what that was,"

"Oh," She replied before smiling brightly. "Then thank you,"

~One Week Later~

Marinette couldn't help the massive grin on her face as she walked through the Gala, getting everyone's attention. She got endless compliments and couldn't believe her luck but when she thought about it, she knew it was because of Luka's gift. Apparently, this was his definition of 'what she deserves'. In other words, success and happiness. And happy she was. She had never had such a successful run before nor had she been in the spot light like this. She just wish she could thank her fae friend. After all, he had been the one to change her life.

"Marinette!" A familiar voice called, causing her to look over and see Adrien. If she had been 14 years old again, she might have fainted from his amazing smile but she was over him these days. Having said that, he still looked beautiful, just not as otherworldly as she once thought. "Wow, you look amazing,"

"Thank you," She smiled but it didn't last long as Lila stormed over.

"Marinette," She grinned falsely. On the outside, she looked happy for her rival but on the inside, she was fuming. Apparently, that stupid fae had helped Marinette become a sensation overnight, despite her contract with him. Anyone who was anyone wanted a MDC original, which was why Marinette was here and Lila hated it. She had gotten an invite because she was the current it girl. Anyone who was anyone knew her name. She was so famous that she couldn't walk down the street and she loved it but tonight someone else was outshining her and that someone was Marinette. Lila had to admit she looked amazing but it wouldn't last long. It enraged her that Marinette was stealing her limelight and she was determined to destroy her but she would wait til Marinette lose her defense pose. "I heard you've been getting more successful recently. Oh maybe we could work together. With my status and your designs, we could do great things,"

"Oh, I'm not interested Lila but thank you," Marinette replied, making Lila grit her teeth as she stepped forward.

"Listen here, Dupain-Cheng," She hissed, getting closer to her. "There is nothing special about you as I know for a fact you had that puck help you but he also helped me and I intend to keep my throne so either you get in line or I'll destroy you again,"

"I'm not afraid of you, Lila," Marinette replied back. "And his name is Luka. Yes, he gave me a blessing and maybe that's why I'm successful but unlike you, I'm grateful for his help,"

"Typical," Lila gasped, turning on her heel and walking away from Marinette. Marinette shrugged and turned back to people as a waiter came by with glasses of red wine. Seeing her chance, Lila took one and was about to 'trip' into Marinette, planning to ruin her dress with the wine but before she could, someone caught her by the waist, removed the glass in her hand and pulled her into a dance, making her glare at Luka. "You! You broke-"

"Now, now. Don't make a scene," He replied as they glided across the floor. "There are a lot of cameras and I'm sure you don't want them to see you arguing with the son of Jagged Stone now, especially if you decide to use those racial slurs again,"

"I-" She gasped, glancing around and saw he was telling the truth. Of course he was. Faes can't lie. "You stopped me from ruining her. If you hadn't cheated-"

"I did no such thing," He replied, making her grit her teeth. "You were the one who didn't say exactly what to do with Miss Dupain-Cheng so I improvised,"

"So you made her more successful?!" She gasped in annoyance. "That is not what I wanted,"

"I care not for your wants but for the contract's words. It said to give her what she deserved and that's what I did. If anyone is to blame, it is yourself for not been exact in your wording," He shrugged, making her gasp in annoyance. "But relax. I'm not here to cause any trouble. Actually, I'm here to grant the final part of our contract,"

"I'm already famous!"

"Are you?" He questioned, making her look around. Despite dancing with him, no one seemed bothered by her. All eyes were still on Marinette. "Seems like to me no one's really paying attention to you,"

She gasped as she realized he was right. She was famous but not enough. She turned to him with a begging expression.

"You need to honor-"

"Don't worry, Miss Rossi," He smiled but to her surprise, he roughly grabbed her arm, causing it to feel like it was burning. "I'm here to make sure everyone remembers you forever,"

The way he said it sent a shiver down her spine and she panicked, trying to pull her arm away from him as it continued to burn before he suddenly let go.

"That's our contract fulfilled," He stated, walking away from her and picking up a glass of wine from a nearby waiter. He held up the glass to her with a smirk on his face "Have fun now,"

With that, he turned on his heel and walked over to Marinette, causing the witch to smile as she greeted him. Despite his promise, that annoyed her and if he wasn't going to punish Marinette, she would. She began to storm over but was stopped by one of the other people there.

"Oh, isn't Marinette such a darling?" She asked, mistaking Lila for one of the crowd who was admiring the girl. Lila couldn't believe her luck. She could easily corrupt this person's mind. "I would love one of her design,"

"Oh, she is the most talented designers in the world and I hate her for it," She stated, surprising herself and causing the person to look over at her before shaking her head. "I mean we were in school together and she was always so nice to other people, it made me sick. She told me to stop lying so I destroyed her life and turned most of her friends against her,"

"What?" The woman asked, looking wary as Lila covered her mouth.

"I didn't mean that," She gasped, thinking she was able to lie. "I mean I totally meant it. She was such a goody two-shoes and I hated her guts. I even framed her for stealing another person's designs once. Her class actually believed it. They were so stupid. All that to do was turn around the sketch and they would have seen her signature. The best part is she wasn't the first person I did this too,"

At this point, everyone was looking at Lila with shock and disgust, apart from Luka. He simply held up his glass to her as she glared at him. She had realized that burning feeling he had created was a curse. A curse of truth but all she had to do was remain quiet until it lifted.

"I caused a girl to kill herself," She suddenly blurted out, causing a number of people to gasp. "I laughed at her funeral and pretended I was crying,"

Lila clapped her hands to her mouth but it didn't stop her from talking. One by one, all of the lies she had said throughout the years came out in front of everyone at the gala including the cameras that were filming everyone. People were whispering to each other and pointing at her. In sudden realization, Lila realized that everyone was no longer looking at Marinette but in fact were all looking at her. They were taking her picture and the cameras and reporters covering the event were filming her too. She knew by morning her career was over and it only got worst as security came over.

"Miss, come with us please," They stated, making her look at them.

"What?!" She gasped, annoyed. "Do you know who I am?!"

"Yes, you're Lila Rossi and due to your confession the police have been called," The man answered, making her go pale. "Come quietly,"

"Quietly?! You stupid buffoon!" She screamed, despite trying to act 'innocent'. "I am Lila Rossi! I'm the best thing here and you think you can force me from here?! I deserve to be here!! Not these morons! Me! I'm the Queen! You should be begging for my attention!!"

Apparently, whatever Luka had done to her didn't just cause her to tell the truth but to drop her act. However, the security guard didn't care and went to take her arm, causing her to hit him which only made the situation worst. Soon, her downfall was filmed by all the cameras and bystanders as she was frogmarched out, shrieking like a banshee. Actually, scrap that. Banshees had nicer voices. Luka smirked as he watched her spill more lies and cause a scene, enjoying it.

"What did you do to her?" Marinette asked, causing him to turn his attention to her.

"I gave her a blessing," He replied, causing her to raise an eyebrow. "Unlike yours though, I gave her a blessing of truth. She can't lie about anything now. Not through words or through her personality. I would guess that she is going to be trending on social media. She wanted to be famous after all,"

"That is brilliant," Marinette smiled before turning to him. "Thank you for my blessing by the way. It's really helped my business take off but I feel kind of bad that I'm riding on your magic for all my success. I wouldn't have gotten this far without it. Is there anyway to thank you?"

"You know I only gave you a little boost of prosperity right?" He asked, making her look at him. "Everything else was all you.. but I would love to get to know you better if you're interested and if you insist on thanking me, you could get me a danish from your parent's bakery. They're my favorite treat,"

"I would you to get to know you better as well," Marinette flushed, making him grin. "And getting a danish wouldn't be a problem... want to dance?"

"I would love to," He smiled, taking her hand and leading her onto the dance floor as they heard Lila screeching in the background. By tomorrow morning, she would go down in history as a spoiled diva but not just that but people would post about her. Her previous victims would reveal how she was and the hashtag 'LiarRossi' would trend, occasionally making a comeback when something new was revealed. All the crimes and fraud she committed to would come to light, along with every bad deed she did and she would realize with growing horror that Luka fulfilled his contract perfectly. After all, he promised to make her famous and now she was. She would never be forgotten for a long time. The best part was he had brought her to the height of fame which made this so much more better. You see Fame is tricky. Once you're famous, everyone watches you every move and with how famous Lila was, people from all over would learn of her misdeeds, spreading her story all across the world. The newspapers were going to have a field day and her name would forever be remembered as a famous liar. He would make sure no one would ever forget her. After all, she asked to be known by everyone and that's exactly what he gave her. Of course, that doesn't mean he wasn't grateful to her. After all, if he hadn't taken her deal, he might not have finally gotten a chance to meet Marinette and now he had. He hoped Lila was satisfied with the outcome. He sure knew he was.

411 notes · View notes

quartzalynlove · 1 year

Text

Orbit

Pairing: Cloud Strife x Black! Fem! Y/N

Summary: you've returned from a solo mission in Wall Market, but Cloud seems to be acting different

Warnings: none

You were back from your job on Wall Market, and as you ran jovially towards Seventh Heaven, the Mako affected eyes tracking you seemed...different.

Late into the night, almost early morning, the only ones in the bar were you, Tifa, and Cloud. Tifa was cleaning up, erasing each memory of the night's turnout from the wood tables. Drinking by himself, Cloud sat alone at the bar until you decided to keep him company.

"Good to have you back." He said, turning his head to you for only a moment before returning to his empty downward gaze at the bar.

You finally saw it. Cloud's eyes were softer, more relaxed. He had calmed down a bit since joining Avalanche, finally losing some of the rough exterior formed by the war, but it was still rare to see him with that much of his guard lowered. Although, it was pretty adorable.

"Good to be back," you smiled. "Everything been alright around here?"

Cloud shrugged. "About the same. What about you? You didn't run into any trouble, right?"

You found yourself almost laughing at Cloud's concern. He knew more than anyone that you were capable of taking care of yourself; even so, that kind of worry was uncharacteristic for him.

"And if I did? I'm a big girl, Cloud." You let out a light chuckle.

Cloud turned away again and his gaze returned to its usual hardened state.

"Right, just—"

Leaning towards him, you searched for Cloud's face. "Hm?"

"Forget it."

As if I light bulb turned on in your head, one of your eyebrows cocked curiously as you continued to find Cloud's face.

"Cloud," you paused. "Were you worried about me?"

Cloud glanced over to find your lips in a small smirk, and it racked his brain as if his head was slammed into a wall. Although it went mostly unspoken, Cloud valued his friends and family that became Avalanche. However, you always felt different. He found a light in your presence, as warm as it was bright, that seemed absent from the others. That absence didn't make him like the team any less, but they never quite made Cloud feel the way you did.

He was oblivious at first, or at least convinced himself he was. It wasn't your dimples, tiny craters in the soft skin of your warm, sunset face, that made him realize. It wasn't your moonstone eyes that glowed with joy and ambition or even your laugh that felt like a swarm of butterflies dancing in strawberry soda inside of his stomach.

It took that split second from a week ago when Aerith, Tifa, and Jessie presented your disguise to the team for Cloud to realize that there was nothing rational about how you made him feel. He nearly fainted when he saw you, the young rich heiress from the topside looking to moonlight in the debaucherous capital of the slums. Goddess braids flowed down the emerald satin that clung to each starlit curve for dear life. All complete with glossed crimson lips and doe eyed lashes.

Pure electricity struck Cloud in that moment, silencing his heart for a single beat so each of his senses were focused on only you. Since the day you left, he couldn't will that moment to stop replaying in his head. Truthfully, he didn't want it to.

Now that you were back, Cloud wasn't sure how to go one. Every nerve seemed to be flowing with electricity when you were around. The soft warm feeling he used to feel around you now tore him apart at the seams.

But these thoughts and feelings remained in his heart, as suffocating and neglectful of a home that it was. Cloud knew that if he allowed them to run lose, that if he no long held the reins but was forced to chase after his heart, every support beam and foundation of that house would crumble instantly. He'd be left without a dwelling place to hide

Cloud looked at you. The curled ends of your braids sweeping gently over your shoulder, your soft lips he often swore were made of honey, and your dark eyes that held a world of their own. A world he viewed from orbit, but so desperately wished to crash down on.

"And if I was?" His voice was quieter as he slightly mocked you.

"You're adorable." You smiled softly before body was taken over by an exhausted yawn.

"Guess I should turn in."

You got up from your seat at the bar but stopped before leaving the building. Cloud was watching and saw as you turned around with an innocent smile and your hands folded in front of you.

"It's still pretty dark out, and the undercity's a dangerous place for a girl like me. I might need a big, strong merc to protect me."

It was vile how your light, angelic smile could switch into something more sinister—no...knowing— in an instant. Cloud wondered. Was it possible?

He folded is arms and darted his eyes from you. "You want an apology?"

"I'm joking, Cloud," You cooed with a bubbly laughter as you started back towards him.

You took his hand, grabbing his attention once again.

"But, seriously, walk with me. I've been all by myself for a week."

Cloud sighed before rising from his seat.

"Fine."

He walked ahead of you, but you quickly caught up, beaming a giddy smile.

You missed the still nights of the Sector 7 slums. Although you had fun engaging in the eccentricities of Wall Market, Sector 7 was calm. It was hopeful. You could feel people sleeping with a sad joy that would linger into the morning hours. And no matter the threats Shinra would throw at the slums, Sector 7 was the community that wouldn't remain wavered for long.

The simulated heavens from underneath the topside had directed each incandescent light to shine perfectly on the features of your face. Your warm tones paired with the cool of the night turned your skin into bronze. As your hair bounced softly at your back with each step, Cloud began to wonder if there was more than only one living Ancient on the planet. You were only a soft flame, a pale yellow slight blaze. But, unfortunately, you decided to burn gently beside the weak and soft wax, burrowing through it with your light flicker.

Cloud was quiet, which wasn't uncommon, but it was more quiet than usual. You could feel heavy rumination at your side, and it felt silent, unspoken yet profound.

You had always noticed the way Cloud acted around you, even when he himself didn't. Lingering, awestruck gazes into your eyes, hesitant hands drawing back after an impulsive reach in times of comfort, glances and each of your little quirks, frightened he'd miss a moment from the beautiful cinema that you. He was more worried about you too, and you knew by now that worry was Cloud's main form of caring.

The walk was nearly over, but before you walked up to your front door, you turned to Cloud, who hadn't spoken a word since leaving the bar.

"You alright? You're real quiet today."

Cloud paused for a moment before answering rather coldly. "I'm fine."

Your face hardened, you knew Cloud was lying to you. Now in front of your door, you turned around to face Cloud who instantly turned his head away, staring off to his left with an intense gaze.

"Cloud?" You waited for a response, receiving none.

With a slightly sad smile, you took Cloud's hand. He finally looked back at you, his gaze softened.

"Thanks for walking with me."

All words seemed to perish in Cloud's throat as you stood there smiling sincerely at him. He could only manage few softened words in your presence.

"Of...of course."

He watched as you seemed to hesitate, gently playing with his hand in yours while your eyes took an interest in the ground.

"You know that restaurant I like on the topside," you slowly focused back up to him. "We should go sometime. Just you and me."

Cloud could feel it, the world within you drawing him in with its ethereal sunset rays. But he also felt vines anointed with fresh dew infiltrate the house he had locked his heart inside, threatening to crumble each wall with a swift motion. He wasn't oblivious to what you were suggesting, but his answer came from a place of fear.

"I don't follow."

Immediately, your planet withdrew, and Cloud was once again only a meteor in orbit. Although it felt safe, he never realized how cold and somber it was alone in the cosmos.

Your fingers tensed over his palm, feeling like you had just made a fool of yourself.

"Cloud, I'm asking if you'll go out with me."

His heart thumped against all four corners of its prison as the nature from your world began to reclaim it. There was hardly a fight. He didn't want to fight it, and he couldn't if he tried. Cloud went into free fall, no longer content with admiring you when you were only a distance away. There was a sparkle in his eye as he answered you again.

"Yes."

Your smile, now a mile wide, was like the sun; you jumped to the balls of your feet with a light giggle that sent butterflies kissing each inch of Cloud's face.

"Then it's a date."

You turned to unlock your door and wondered if the new blaze in your cheeks would ever calm. Before you put in the key, however, you whipped back around to Cloud once more.

He was turned to the side, likely about to walk off. While he was still you moved closer and planted a soft, sweet kiss on his cheek. The shade of your lip gloss practically blended with the color his face became; his eyes widened like a vast crystal ocean beyond soft pink sands.

"Goodnight, Cloud." You parted with him.

There was silence for a moment. You didn't see, since you had turned again, but Cloud inspected the coat of gloss you left on his face. As it glistened on his fingertips, he felt his face grow even hotter

"Goodnight, Y/N."

You found Cloud walking off with a hand over his face and your smile lingered as you shut the door to your home.

75 notes · View notes

persephone-s-moon · 28 days

Note

Taking you up on your dare/offer benji! Tell me all about your oc Than (I'm a sucker for necromancer things hehe.)

HELL YEAH!!!!!!!! Idk how much detail you want but here's the mildly chaotic sparknotes of their lore

Questions about anything or anyone mentioned in this post are welcome as well :)) this is a lot

Than (uses all pronouns) is a part of a homebrew campaign my friends and I started a month ago and they are everything to me

(Outfit redesign so far :3 face and hair redesign in progress, and I'm probably going to make their clothes less vibrant)

In life, Than (full name Thanatos Pyre) was an acolyte of Etrix, the goddess of death. (Etrix is HEAVILY based off of Kelemvor (because of my influence >:3c) if you're familiar with DND lore.) He provided funeral services and healing to those in need and lived in a temple with their family.

Acolyte robes featuring Anubis (eldest brother), Mors (Than's very large twin), and Hecate (little sister)

Both of Than's parents are priests and their older brother Anubis was trying to become one as well. (Their best friend/crush was about to be a priest too.) Etrixian priests are the only ones permitted to provide merciful death and they are also tasked with killing the undead :)

Indoor priests robes featuring Mother Maveth and outdoor priests robes featuring Fathet Hawthorn. Than is about Hawthorn's height (slightly shorter than Anubis)

For context Etrix has some beef with her brother Rhytar, the god of necromancy, because she HATES undeath, so of course their worshipers also have beef... :)

Than was murdered by a Rhytarian half-elf necromancer named Vallana Siannodel (during an attack on the Etrixian temple but that's a long story) and kept as essentially a pet for five years. As a reborn/undead, they've lost most of their memories and the memories they do have are vague. They know they were a worshiper of Someone but they don't know who, they know there was an attack on their temple and they feel responsible for it but they don't know why, and they know they had friends and family but faces/names elude them entirely.

Reborn under the control of necromancers very rarely regain autonomy, HOWEVER, Than was able to escape and they've essentially been on their own for a year prior to the story of the campaign. He's confined to the city of Nightborough (homebrew as well) because it's all they know, but they avoid the inner city to evade Vallana and mostly stick to the slums. They're compelled to recite prayer/provide funeral services for the dead without really knowing why. (The funeral prayer is ingrained into them, and they only recall pieces of other prayers.) In exchange for essentially free funeral services and healing, some people offer shelter. She became friends with the deep gnome Shortspark family, specifically the eldest son Bellpepper Jr., after attempting to heal and providing funeral services for the youngest Poppy Jr. Because of Bellpepper Jr., Than is able to escape Nightborough entirely and go on our adventure :)

Than functions as a bard but only because of Vallana's influence. If Rhytarian attack didn't happen, they would have been a cleric.

The party has hilariously only Very Recenty discovered Than's undead nature because they passed enough perception checks to realize she Doesn't Breathe Or Eat. It's a surprise they didn't notice earlier because she's SO clueless about most things but we've managed to have a firbolg who's even MORE clueless than Than.

Anyway that is the shortest version I could come up with without sacrificing comprehensiblity <33 Thank you for asking!!!!!!

#i feel like im going to regret not signing these references but hopefully no one reposts them LOL #benji's ted talks #than the reborn bard #dnd shifter #dnd character art #dnd bard #dnd character #dnd art #dnd #dnd oc art #dnd oc #dungeons and dragons

10 notes · View notes

prolix-yuy · 1 year

Note

Congrats on 500 LJ! Can I please request "Heroism – real and perceived" with Javier? I think that could make an interesting and angsty character study, but whatever you want to do I know will be amazing, so the choice is all yours (same for pairing, I'm happy to read something with Reader but I'm not gonna complain if it's only him, whatever works), thank you ❤️

Wonderful Bee! Thank you for being such a bright light in the Pedro community and for being so supportive and kind to everyone around you! I'll be honest, this prompt made me nervous since I haven't done Javi P yet, but I did my "research" (that was the fun part) and puzzled over this request.

I was planning to make all of these requests standalone stories, but the amazing Peña goddess @iamskyereads also sent in a Javi request, and as I read them side by side a two part story came to light. I hope you enjoy both this request, and the follow up to come!

The Road Behind

Pairing: None, eventual Javier Peña x F!Reader

Summary: Home is behind, the world ahead.

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: M, angst, descriptions of violence, smoking, lots of Javi introspection. While this story is not explicit, my blog and the content shared on it is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: This one is a little shorter, but I'm making up for it with a part 2 that's continuing the scene.

Hero.

The words elicit a visceral sensation from Javier, a bullet through his throat, another in the center of his chest. He wants a stronger drink. He wants a real cigarette, not this minty square of nicotine tucked by his gums. He wants to run, like he always does when he’s back in Laredo.

They didn’t say it out loud, the word too grand for a moment this small. But Javier saw it in their eyes when Luis shook his hand, his wife looking on, Paco watching him like he’s in the presence of a famous ball player.

“We care about what you did in Columbia.”

You’re a hero, Javi.

“We sure are proud of you.”

Proud of the hero who took down Pablo Escobar.

The words drip with spite when Javier imagines them. There is no heroism in what he did. Men might envy it - the man who saved a nation. Women might desire it - let me touch the hands that pulled the trigger.

Joke’s on them. Sent away at the final hour, Judy Moncada’s treacherous mouth splashing across Messina’s desk. The sticky heat inside the phone booth, whiskey burning in his belly as he waited for Steve to say the words.

“We got him Javi.”

The grounding press of the phone against his forehead, payphone sharp under his palm, centered him when the weight lifted. It was a smaller relief than he’d hoped, still saddled with the burden of what he’d done to stand in that booth at that hour listening to success through a crackling sat phone.

Hero.

The words were tossed around in the days following Escobar’s fall, and maybe they brought some people comfort. But not Javier.

It didn’t feel heroic threatening that “senator” in Gacha’s home, a bullet in his leg and spittle spraying his face as Javier promised another in his head if he didn’t talk.

It didn’t feel heroic letting Carillo slaughter a boy to teach the children of Bogota, and Escobar, a lesson. His dead eyes took days of drinking to fade into the background.

It especially didn’t feel heroic carrying Helena out of the hell Javier put her in, gaze faraway and blood oozing from wounds that would never heal enough to forget. Her face tucked into his neck, body drawn so tight his arm goes numb under her legs. The words he whispers as he carries her to the ambulance are nonsensical - you’ll be okay, I have you, you’re safe. None of it can be true for her again.

No, Medellín had its hero for years. He built schools in the slums, homes for the people, let money fly from his fingertips like those white birds he trained to roost in the trees at his hacienda. Keeping the people thankful. Obedient. Trained.

Pablo Escobar was a hero, for a time.

Never to Javier, or the Colombian government or the DEA. But for a short while, Escobar was the closest thing to a hero Medellín ever had. Never mind where the money he spent came from. Never mind what blood was hidden in jungles and behind locked doors. Pablo Escobar cared for his community, wanted to save it with his guiding hand. In return he expected what most do: loyalty, respect, adoration.

But when a man believes himself to be a hero, that’s when the façade begins to crumble.

Javier’s skin itches, catching eyes with his father as he fusses at the Nicorette in his cheek. He’s too used to working in shadows for events like this, discomforted by eyes sliding over him, the leaned-in conversations. His only brief comfort, speaking with Lorraine, now softens into memory. She looks good, happy, and fulfilled in a way Javi covets. It pulled unbidden smiles to his normal grimace, hands nervous, emotions more on the sleeve of his flannel than he intended.

But he knows he couldn’t have been the husband she needed, the steadfast presence of Randy, family man.

Can you imagine if we were actually married?

Could he, before all the blood and the cocaine, the plata o plomo that ruled his life for so many years? Could he have been father to those two children, a little boy who looked up to him, a girl that wrapped his heart around her finger?

He’d never know now.

He needs the bite of air without the film of sweat and wedding cake dancing on his tongue. As quietly as he can leave - which still involves some hand-shaking and hair-ruffling - he slips into the twilight outside the wedding venue.

God, he could use a smoke, the familiar warmth of the cherry cupped in his palm, the curl of smoke as gentle a kiss as any lover’s. He misses the way it perfumed his collars, how the first pull released tension before the nicotine even hit, and the ritual of the carton, the tap, the flame hot and dangerous, the warmth on his lips as it burned down almost to the filter. Gum just doesn’t cut it, and the mint gives him a headache.

Like the tiniest beacon on the horizon, he catches the crackle of flame, the metallic zip of a lighter wheel. Then a faint exhale and thin white smoke curling around the corner of the building.

Javi doesn’t want to talk, to perform for another audience of one or many, but the temptation of the secondhand smoke tugs him around the corner, thumbs tucked into his jeans pockets and head downturned. He pretends he didn’t see her, like it was only happenstance he stumbled upon her and not because he’s a moth to the flame of her lighter.

She doesn’t notice at first, leaning on the railing as she pulls the cinder to a glowing red between her lips. It’s a rare moment, to watch someone as they are without an audience, and Javi debates on leaving her be. But her head turns, his silhouette catching her eye.

“Looking for someone?” she asks, her smile easy. Even with all the time in the world to prepare, her question catches him off guard.

Maybe he is.

#javier peña x reader #javier peña x fem reader #javier pena x you #javier pena x reader #javi pena x reader #narcos fanfiction #lj's 500 follower celebration #prolix fics

106 notes · View notes

notmuchtoconceal · 4 months

Text

Verily, verily I say unto you! Laura Palmer is the image of the Feminine Messiah, for she is what we consume at our daily meal, wrapped section-by-section, genre-by-genre, a full-course luncheon in a box served up by an early-adopter auteur slumming it up in TV Land, for he believed in the good of public works and the joys of episodic narrative!

Look back now to the Image of Tina in A Nightmare on Elm Street, not only clawing bloodied and bitten-of-nail on the inside of her bodybag translucent as the mists of a high school shower. See her not only dragged down the halls by an unseen malevolence leaving a slime-trail of blood as she goes -- See her also in the Dreamland which was her prison and tomb standing shrouded as the Holy Virgin in Plastic, Deflowered though she was by her Hunky Tighty Whitey wearing Latino Greaser Boyfriend who too was to be found alone, strangled of his own volition.

See the continuity in these images, not only for how one may influence another, but how in each is a reflection of the time and place from which they arose. See the dead girls on the news in placid suburban 80's homes. See them now always for what they always were -- offerings to the Moloch of the Mainland, Our Homeland Hungering for the Blood of the Pure. See how the boogeyman was always a necessity of the loving patriarchs which your grief-stricken mother, intoxicated in isolation, barred the windows of your home to keep your father out. See your father the lawman hiding the crimes to which he knew he was entitled for the law was his and the courts always shows for the public. The letter of the law could not reflect the will of the people, for the people hunger for blood and the annals of our court are not a butcher's trough, though we may permit each tree within our garden a gallows!

The blonde girl. The Radiant Madonna. Who is she? In her name we see the laurel crown, the hands which reach and touch. As the heart is what mediates the two, and she is the heart of the town, the daughter of a respected lawyer for the local last tycoon, she was the most fecund portal through which to inject corruption. She is the Feminine Messiah for She is the Paradoxical Image of God in The Flesh.

In Laura's embrace of Stoic Wisdom, her acceptance of struggle, decision to withstand hardship and rejection of witchcraft, we see the font of her status as a glamor goddess is a masculinized mind which compromises neither its feminine allure nor immersion. From a young age, she is bombarded not only by repeated sexual and emotional abuse from a loved one, but continuous assault by the irrational and yet inarguable presence of supernatural forces. As with the first scene of Ash's sister Cheryl's possession in The Evil Dead, the unseen forces of darkness lurking always out of sight seize her hand against her will and use her own body as an instrument to intrude upon the pages of a meditative space where she may be alone with her thoughts.

The treasury of Missing Pieces from Fire Walk With Me are a particular boon to this subject, as the additional scenes featuring Laura and her mother shed warm rays of luminance on a relationship foundational to not only the heart, but the core tension of the series.

In a brief scene where Sarah, Laura's mother, is coming inside carrying groceries, three developments occur in rapid succession, which key the viewer in to the intimacy of these women's dynamic. Laura is harried, for she has just found pages ripped from the Secret Diary she had hidden, tipping her off that her secrets can no longer be safely kept in her own home. She is smoking a cigarette, as she was only moments before (in the main body of the text) living out an impromptu early-90's alterative hip-hop video as she comes home from school (as one does), which we soon find out is despite her mother's protests. (The smoking, not living in a improvisational music video. No matter what timeline you're in, you can't take the 90's out of a 90's girl even if it's still the 80's.) Yet also despite her protests, her mother will hold her cigarette for her as Laura in turn takes the groceries. Laura needs to ask her mother to borrow the car (fortuitous, I'm only now realizing, as she had just gotten home) for she is still only a high school girl, but first -- she must withstand another bout of lecturing from her mother where she insists she will never be a smoker if she never starts smoking. We can see in this briefly that Sarah is instilling in Laura a purity ethic where a corrupted-identity is based on an initiation ("being a smoker", "starting smoking") -- the definitive feature of idol worship, which Sarah is sadly living out half-consciously, as her own husband is drugging her with milk. The milk which she seems inevitably to accept, making her go into the white dissociative horsey dreams. As a final comic touch, once Sarah agrees, Laura runs out the door, leaving her cigarette in her mother's hands, which she needs to then run back in and grab to eye-rolling maternal exasperation.

This connects to a later scene which elaborates upon a vital point of ambiguity in the main body of the film -- an ambiguity which reads as such for it is not immediately parsible, for it is irrational.

Laura ascends to the local Roadhouse to once more prostitute her underaged body for the coke money she so desperately needs to fuel her lifestyle of endless social charity and drug-fueled bisexual intrigues. Her childhood best friend, Donna Hayward, played by a different actress in the film than in the series (perhaps embodying Laura's projections of her own naivety onto the cuter, smaller, mousier new girl) follows her. She is not only curious about her best friend's distance, her twoness, but she is aware of how Laura sees her. Donna is dating one of the two Local Mikes, the Earthly Dumb Jock, who proudly boasts from his convertible in his letterman jacket with her drug-dealer leather bro by his side that HE. IS. THE. MAN. This Donna will, in the same breath, wonder aloud if her football player boyfriend could ever write her a poem, then scandalously whisper to Laura about ... the mere possibility ... of having sex. Holy shit. This bitch was having threesomes in public when she was twelve. Girl, you know not what little you know. Oh my god. You are not yet ready to steal this woman's second boyfriend and develop main character syndrome as you shout on her grave in the dead of night. Right now, you are gonna do some weird needy insecure shit and it's gonna be fun.

(My little brother is a hardcore Donna stan and I know not ever why.)

As we have said, Donna follows Laura to her nightside prostitution meetup, which prompts Laura to react with barely-disguised dismay equal parts shock contempt and expectance. This Donna ... is gonna get fucking good at playing Laura's games. This Donna ... is gonna slut it up. This Donna ain't no fuckin prude. This Donna has cute lil perky tits and she's gonna whip em out! You ever see that other Donna's tits? Nuh-uh, bitch. TV standards. No full-frontal female. See em on the big screen, motherfucker. Bathed in hot pink electro-grunge hate-fucking your ears! I am a Goddess! I am the Concubine! I am the Queen of Whores! Ow. Don't cry from that one shot you took. That was real spicy. I'm such a good girl this is hard for me. I'm not gonna let it show, though. Do I have to be at church in the morning? Am I out whoring on a schoolday? What happened to my lesbian sister who writes poetry? How can Laura be best girl and biggest slut, how is that possible, what am I missing?

Once more you may see as it is revealed -- as Donna approaches the table at which Laura is seated with her two bucks, one asks if she is included in "the deal" -- to which Laura objects, which Donna insists on including herself, sealing it with the shot she takes from her mark.

Donna is self-initiating into the cult of ritual prostitution by means of libation that she may enter into sympathetic resonance with Laura. Laura, though she may seem to dismay it, is protective of Donna's innocence, and doesn't wish to see her corrupted. Though Laura may appear beautiful and bright and alive, inside she is consumed by darkness and fears being close to anyone, fears that her influence on anyone might be corrosive, and yet -- she's missing Meals on Wheels deliveries and unable to give excuses, although -- nobody wonders why despite the fact there's nobody there. There's nobody there, but maybe the two of us can sneak off later and snuggle in my truck while we listen to non-diegetic music over the radio and reflect on the beauty and tragedy of the night.

Furthermore, the Missing Pieces make clear the crossing of an additional boundary -- namely that the girls literally cross northward into the territory of Canada to engage in their Pink Room Prostitution Cube. The abrupt cut in the feature film, on first impression -- may lead one to believe the Pink Room is an extension spatially, literally ... (a backroom) as well as metaphysically and thematically ... of the Roadhouse, rather than another place, called The Power and the Glory some many miles away.

It is in this scene where Donna loses herself to her latent passions, caressing herself as a boa in the sweater which Laura had discarded as she disrobed, she sees then her old coworker, Ronette Pulaski (named for the park by my house, by which I mean not the French Jesuit Missionary, but the street not named for him) emerge from the pink fog of time, the mirror image of what Donna might become: the two reflect upon their past experiences in the brothel where they worked, recruited through the perfume counter at Laura's dad's lifetime friend and business partner's department store high school grooming and sex trafficking ring.

It is important to understand that consensual sex work performed voluntarily by an adult woman (or man or anyone else for that matter) who understands the risks they're accepting, as they would accept with any choice of occupation, is quite different from a situation where a girl is coerced, both overtly and subtly, into acting against her own self-interest by playing into what seems inevitable pre-scripted scenes by invisibly abusive authorities with loving faces. Laura may enjoy sex, and sex is empowering, but this is occurring from a place of deep hurt. Laura has been repeatedly humiliated, repeatedly disempowered, repeatedly had her body turned into a source of shame, that her ability to connect and be vulnerable with other men has been compromised. Truthfully, Laura enjoys humiliating men through sex. Laura loves the power she has over them. Laura enjoys that she can coerce, bully and intimidate adult men who know they're raping her, because at least these fuckers aren't her own father. Remember when Bobby breaks down crying with Laura in his arms, realizing she's only using him for cocaine, and he just gives it to her anyway cause he wants her to be happy? He just knows that she's in pain and he can't really help and he needs her, and it's fine. She needs these drugs. Maybe she needs these drugs. You can't get her off drugs. What can you do for her? What can anyone do for her? Nobody appreciated how Bobby was a good man all along but his own dad and nobody can understand that because nobody has a time-traveling airforce superdad who can hypnotize you in a diner with the best possible version of yourself he glimpsed in his Project Bluebook heaven research because an actual Good Christian Man might as well be sci-fi!

Oh my god, bro.

It just now occurs to me that I am literally recapping a soap opera to explain the gospel. The cute Polish pup with the muscly veins and roid acne was right, you are obnoxiously American! Well, it's important to remember that if cute little German boys didn't love American melodrama, we wouldn't have the great works of RW Fassbinder.

I win and this is an effective hybridization of film criticism and spirituality which rightfully makes actual Christians look like aesthetically and intellectually stunted-dweebs formaldehyded into guppies by doctrine!

My page is so much fun, you will not see this shit elsewhere. Never forget how special you are to me for appreciating my words, brothers.

Laura, you see, understands the nature of discreet energetic resonance.

Laura knows that the essentialized state which underlies fetishism is not simply sympathetic psychological association, nor strictly a consequence of molecular chemistry. While Laura would agree that, yes (for Laura is keen-eyed and scientifically-minded, yet nevertheless -- is not blind to subtler forces at work in the world around her) that if your cute lil queer boy ass wanted to lick an alpha man's armpits cause it tastes real woody and salty almost like a saltwater toffee, but a bit more mulchy and mushroomy, like -- yeah, there'd deffo be a molecular component, for you would be inhaling his pheromones direct and they would be seeping into your tongue creating fast-acting pathways straight to your brain, and yeah -- your direct proximity to a hunky alpha man's muscular triceps and biceps and big meaty pecs would cement the paraphilic association, acting as both a trigger and deepening a visual impression around which your mind would naturally mold itself, allowing your body to follow -- all of that is true. She would probably agree in 2023 Twin Peaks reboot timeline where she's watching gay tumblr porn prolly cause she finds it lolzy and how gay are Mike and Bobby, actually? At least as gay as Donna is for me, right? Am I ready to speak publicly about how gay I suspect Donna is for me? She's basically a little sister. I can't believe she grows up to be the bad guy in Men in Black 2 before fully morphing into Pete Burns. Holy shit. Maybe I am a mean bitch. Why the fuck do I wanna come for Donna so bad? I just feel she brings it on herself?

All that aside, Laura understands the essentialized state transferred by a fetishistic object is primarily energetic. That is, as everything is vibrational, one might say that a shirt worn by a person, or their underwear, vibrates at the same frequency as that person, coming to -- in time -- carry subtle traces of that person, for the very fibers of the garment could be said to have been energetically infused via the pitch or the sound at which the individual's spirit resonates or sings, and things such as smell, while real -- are themselves closer to self-induced inductions where we recall distant days and so surrender ourselves -- making ourselves blank to receive the song we'll never hear.

Laura wears her mother's clothes. In another deleted scene, Sarah chastises Laura for taking one of her sweaters, then not only not returning it, but leaving it balled up on the floor of her closet. Later, Sarah wonders if Laura took her sweater again, for she'd spent all afternoon looking for it, only for Laura to then say rather pointedly "Mom. What are you wearing?" Prompting Sarah to glance down, and slip into a fount of weeping, to which Laura slowly and tenderly approaches.

We understand. Sarah has some demons in her. Sarah sees the visions of the white horse. That wasn't explained for a long time, and even now that it has been, it's still not something which is readily sensible to the casual majority of viewers. The explanation is given, but the intellect refuses it, for it confounds the intellect's neat and tidy categorical schematizations. The white horse is frustrating for it is both obscure and obvious. The readily material explanation is drugs, slang, things one step removed from immediate reality. You can have Abe Lincoln descend from the Sky in Blackface and Crush People's Brains Open before Reciting In Slant Rhyme the Answer All Along to Mock to Your Face Your Conscious, Logical, Route Memorization Sensibilities, but in truth, the image is less paradoxical than a depiction of a current and emerging unity.

Sarah's memory maybe isn't all there. Sarah's had her mind played with. Sarah's been on some shit. How much has Sarah been playing along all along? How much does it only look that way, for she doesn't see?

How much does she always allow?

Mom. What are you wearing?

Mom, are you wearing Sarah?

Laura takes off her face.

Laura is filled with Light.

Saraha takes off her face.

Sarah is filled with Darkness.

Sarah has Laura's smile.

Sarah has a swollen spirit finger.

What would it mean for her -- to know the man she loved, wasn't only cheating on her, not only abusing her daughter, but both in a single act which violated the very underpinnings of both their marriage and their family; to feel she had brought this on herself, by selecting this man, by... not being enough ... by breeding a whore ... why would this happen?

Did you sit there after the reveal of Laura's killer and see this woman standing upright, eyes-alert at her husband's funeral, vowing to be awake, vowing to be present, vowing to remember and to live?

Do you remember how she was then written out of the show forever? How nobody cared? Nobody wanted to look at her? Nobody wanted to think about what happened? Everybody wanted to immediately forget. Nobody wanted to admit that it was happening. Bobby cried out at Laura's funeral that they collectively killer her by ignoring what was obvious and nobody said anything. Bobby was right all along. Bobby was never the real asshole. Bobby was maybe one of the only people who really loved her almost selflessly despite being an infantile douchebag who got secondhand raped by his shrink, who -- oh yeah. Was a jealous older man pining away listlessly and leeringly for underage Laura's hot and heavy secret trauma, who wanted to fuck with Bobby for being a badboy hot jock with powerful latent telepathic abilities, the likes of which his false-gold Mercurial debt-scheme which miraculously works only on cyclopean state champ wresler kooks with amazing pussy control could never hope to dream, let alone conceptualize in false 3D.

Mike the Man grew up to be an insurance agent because of course he did.

Remember how Sarah only came back in at the last minute to deliver a message from the realm of chthonian spiritual trial, reduced and elevated to a cameo, being both chorus and iteral messenger of a hidden devil?

Fuckin sucks for her, am I right? Prolly made her a lil loopy while it was happening, then -- once everyone she thought was a friend or family ignores her cause now she's nothing but a walking reminder, invisibly reduced to a pariah in her own life, it's like she does nothing but sits and festers in a wound of her own making which will never heal.

Damn.

She sat in that house. Where it happened. For 25 years.

In front of the television.

While nobody talked about it.

You know, I've always just really liked Grace Zabriskie. I was sad when she was murdered in Child's Play 2. This is the only thing by David Lynch she's in where she's not already alarming and insidious. Wild at Heart. Disabled Vampyre Ritual Mexican Sex Assassin. Inland Empire. Your 6th grade history teacher harboring an omen of immanent death before using her witch powers to rearrange time. The Return. Literally Queen of Darkness. There she is, folks. The Mother of Evil.

Here in the pilot, she is simply a primal wail of despair which induces some to laughter simply for its intensity disturbs their peace of mind and they must laugh to hold their fragile rational framework together.

(You may attempt to prove me wrong if it would please you.)

Therefore we understand. Whatever is in Sarah is in Laura and whatever is in Laura is in Sarah. They're, now you sense, energetically tethered -- not only cut from the same cloth, for her flesh was stitched of her loom, but if their strings were plucked, they would produce pleasing sounds of a similar timber, and none could confirm this better than Leland Palmer, father, husband and brother, who has readily plucked them both!

You understand now fully -- why, for Laura, at the Pink Room called The Power and the Glory, to see Donna as the image of Ronette, a prostitute saved only at the last moment by providence, that she may open the door to beckon Laura's protective spirit -- why to see Donna wearing Laura's sweater would incense her as to leap to Donna's rescue and cease all further consumption of libation and ritual sex. Laura remembers who she is, and what she values. She doesn't want Donna to be like her. She doesn't want Donna to do what she inevitably does -- investigate her double, triple, quintuple life, adopt her manner and her attitudes, seduce naive doofy biker idiots and cute agoraphobic nerds who are so sheltered and fragile they will suicide at the first sign of betrayal.

She doesn't want her stable family life to fall apart when she discovers that she-bitch Audrey Horne is her sister, holy shit. It was so obvious. If Donna had any charisma she'd be Audrey, who is too feisty and independent which is why her own father never tried to rape her!

Why would her own father try to rape her? Her father has a healthy and trusting creative-personal-business relationship with his brother. Her father lacks the core loneliness to make him that kind of monster. Neither Donna nor Audrey understand men, which is why they're not Laura. Laura understanding men makes her Best Girl. The fact that her own father never tried to rape her made Audrey feel so weirdly inadequate -- much like Donna -- that she has to do mentally ill things like hide naked in Hunky FBI men's bedrooms before dishing out her daddy issues.

God. Thank God our old pal Coop's semi-autonomous AI demon-half shot a corruption load in her so she had a raise a hellspawn, marry her accountant, then go insane wishing she was still young and pretty!

Joshy Fuck Me. That's what I say instead of Jesus fuck now!

I was gonna keep this G-rated for language, but holy shit!

This shit's got as much rape and incest as an actual bible story, I'm just gonna assume you're all adults and have the psychological resilience to handle a dirty word or two, ooooh. What if I post a middle-finger pic? Like and reblog telling me if you would swoon or drenche yer knickers.

Rather tellingly, all Leland can see as he arrives up to pick up Laura for breakfast -- is this same fear of Laura herself. He sees Laura seated beside Donna on the couch, and remembers the day he was almost the John to his own underage prostitute daughter, arranged via their mutual connection, Theresa Banks, his earlier kill in Deer Meadow one year prior.

God, imagine how that must feel for the poor guy!

Ya fuck your own daughter's brains out in a drug-induced demonic trance, thinkin she'll have the common sense to be trauma bonded ta ya for life, but nooooooo. She wants to be out here like that totally scary and unfuckable little Audrey bitch threatening to cut off daddy's tiny peepee with her intimidating precocious little scientific intellect. Girls are scary! If they're not dumb, they're gonna notice how dumb we are first! We need to destroy their capacity to think and feel with our dicks! This is the right way of the land, for it is the right of the conqueror, the female being fecund and plenty as the soil and just as fit to trod upon.

I love America! It's real fun to pollute and rape!

I mean I absolutely believe Dolores seduced Humbert, let's not kid ourselves. Humbert Humbert may have had a silver tongue, but he was not leading man material, folks. Humbert Humbert wishes he was James Mason, but Kubrick's film of Lolita is a perverse Wonderland full-immersion in the psychopathic ideations of a pedophile verging on a pederast for Humbert is so fucking hipster and selective of his vintage, he will only rape little girls in these precise specific age ranges, holy shit.

You are the most autistic and socially inept sex monster! I really believe all the women you meet are throwing themselves at you and Peter Sellers is the neurotic spazz radio man of a thousand voices. Kubrick's film is an irony which requires a level of psychological detachment which verges on psychopathic. It's more-than-less a feature-length 4chan joke, and I understand nobody will understand or appreciate it as a sterling treatise on irony as insurmountable as I do and I accept and appreciate this. Dolly can absolutely be aware of the sexual power she can wield over an infantile adult male, and it can still be illegal, immoral and that man's fault when he succumbs to his emotional weakness and rapes a child.

Joshy fuck me. Uncomfortable people leap to stupid fucking conclusions cause they're basically animals! People who are uncomfortable talking about raping children prolly wanna rape children, there I said it. I have only ever wanted to rape powerful and virile athletic men of an appropriate age and ferment, for I am a conqueror, a king, an alpha.

Well, you see -- Laura couldn't protect Donna, same as nobody could save Laura. In the end, Laura was the only one who could save herself.

Laura gave her body, to protect her Soul. When she places the Jade ring around her finger and weds herself to the Spiritual Mike, the Shoe Salesman and One-Armed Man Whose severed Autonomous Limb became First a Dwarf, then an Axxonal Bubblegum Tree, she was Free of Bob's Influence, and so ... Bob no longer able to farm her, was compelled by obligation to his former master to reap and immediately harvest her.

To put this in an economical sense more readily graspable for earthly carnivores, when Laura put on the ring, she allowed herself to be claimed by Mike, thus becoming His Property. BOB -- the spirit inside Leland -- once being Mike's familiar, now a runaway, was compelled by his very nature to kill this girl who had given herself to his master. As BOB had sought her out, slow-cooked her, flavored her, BOB saw Laura as his and wanted to enjoy her for a long, long time. When Laura gave herself to Mike, BOB was himself forced to sell now, and trade a good long steady drip for an immediate short-term gorging, most of which he then needed to immediately discharge submissively at the feet of his master.

For Laura had wedded herself to a demon, her soul was placed in the Black Lodge. Yet, Laura did not wed herself to a demon for any desire for earthly power or authority, but for it was a way to minimize malign influence. Laura's spiritual wedding was simple, practical harm-reduction. If BOB had corrupted Laura and entered her body, BOB could use her connections to every artery of the town to spread this influence everywhere. Laura "chose to let herself be killed" because this was in line with her dominant value of protecting the innocence she lost.

Look at Deer Meadow, the setting of the prologue to the film. See how little life means there. See how its evident nature as a stained and distorted reflection of the eponymous town was clear even before the doppelganger motif took stage as primary thematic preoccupation. Remember how nobody knew Theresa. Nobody came forward to claim the body. She was a drifter, a statistic, no family. Totally forgotten.

See how it was the love of real people who tried, who stepped forward, who had a desire to connect, and to care, and serve, despite the fears, the follies, the secrets and entanglements of other people in a vanishing tribal structure and way of life we do not and may not ever understand.

See how anyway, they never spoke.

For a time, they did.

Then all was inevitably forgotten.

See how it was through the laws of cause and effect; the accumulation and deterioration of karma as a debt, that Laura self-actualizes by taking control of her life by taking control of her death, that she breaks the cycle of violence and is so uplifted into Grace and Reverence.

See how the angel which came as she sat splendid and curled in the velvets of the Red Room was of her own making, as the one which appeared to open the door of the car for Ronette was of her own making, the lights splendid and alive as if hung ourselves on our own tree!

Tell yourself, brothers, as our sisters our able. That we deserve to be forgiven. That others will forgive us when we forgive ourselves. Any crime which may be mended may be done as such when we approach one another with a firm grasp of truth in an open heart. We were not born to be corrupted. We are not lowly and bestial. We are not the pawns of the powers that be, nor fated to sell ourselves half-willingly into slavery. If it is in a market that we must we live, we may set our value with those of so little they would design to ever think to put one on a human life.

Of this now, and at this time, I have said enough.

On another day, I will return to the ways in which our leading man and hero, chipper and chivalrous knight of the FBI -- boyscout in black tie --- who is easily able to clear the low bar of taking a high school girl crush out for ice cream and a pep talk instead of feeling her up, he already being telepathic enough to know a girl'd be murdered here a year ago, instead of, like ... y'know... fondling her prone naked body -- I will return to the ways in which he complements and contrasts the enigmas of our heroine, he being, by means of his multiplicity, quite an enigma himself.

13 notes · View notes