BEAUTIFUL TRAGEDY.

𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐈-𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐋𝐀𝐖𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐅𝐌.

[bclletragedie]

𝐵𝐸𝐿𝐿𝐸 𝒯𝑅𝒜𝒢𝐸𝒟𝐼𝐸 — beautiful tragedy.

“ TRAGEDY IS LIKE STRONG ACID; IT DISSOLVES AWAY ALL BUT THE VERY GOLD OF TRUTH. “

creations from the mind of MEL. 23 years old, any pronouns !

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄.

[bclletragedie]

                          @darkvoiids

LOCATION: stoneage party, the night of the purge. FOR: father john ledger.

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐇𝐒 believe that it was he who should join the flood of the stoneage fools? to socialize, to fraternize? he was thankful that john was at his side -- for the very second that any of the guests looked at him the wrong way, said the wrong thing, he may not have been able to help himself from destroying everything. the smile he has plastered on immediately drops when he is in the company of the one person in the room that feels like a safe place to land -- someone whom he can trust, someone whom he deeply respects. while those within stoneage's clutches may have the rest of the world fooled that they are deserving, normal people -- they are leeches. festering along the flesh of those just trying to live, those who simply wish to be human.

" i don't know how you do it. " he mutters to john in private, eyes turning to his fellow pariah after he speaks. " listen to people. for a room full of the richest and smartest people in new york city... i lose brain cells every time someone in this room opens their mouth. "

[adaquam]

𝐰𝐡𝐨: adeline underwood & juliet huang ( @bclletragedie ) 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞: the borderline hotel 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧: the purge

It happens in an instant.

One moment, the show is proceeding as planned. JULIET'S angelic voice echoes across the opera house – reverberating through Adeline's ears as she watches from backstage, as awestruck as she always is when she watches the other woman perform. The next, chaos erupts. The stage is quickly engulfed by flame, and Juliet's solo is drowned out by the sounds of screams. It takes Adeline several moments to register what is happening – to become aware that the flames are real, and not just some elaborate pyrotechnic. That the sounds she is hearing are that of terrified patrons fleeing their seats. That, in the midst of all this, she has lost sight of Juliet.

It is at this final realisation that Adeline's blood runs cold. The stage is now engulfed in flames – the curtains falling to the floor in a blazing inferno. The stage burns, and her beloved is nowhere to be seen. Instinct for survival is dampened by a desire to simply find Juliet – a step is almost taken into the raging fire, but she is knocked backwards by fleeing bodies. Sprawled out on her back, she sees stars for a moment before managing to struggle back up to her feet, the wings of the stage rapidly fill with smoke. The stage is inhabitable – she has to find Juliet.

She swims with the mass of bodies away from the flames, seeking refuge backstage. But, as the pack turns left towards the exit – towards clean air and cool ground and safety, Adeline turns right. Towards the dressing rooms, towards smoke and fumes and a rapidly heating floor. It is strange – she would think, if she had more presence of mind – that she hasn't even the courage to openly love Juliet among their coworkers, and yet Adeline would walk towards fire for her. That she would sooner perish in the flames than leave this building without knowing Juliet was safe.

"Juliet!" She calls, pushing through bodies that stumble in the opposite direction. She coughs, the smoke becoming thicker with every passing second. "Juliet!" She calls again. Tears begin to spring to her eyes – whether from the smoke or fear or frustration, she isn't quite sure. All she knows is that she isn't leaving here alone.

[bclletragedie]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐄𝐃 to turn since the terrors began to unleash their wrath, and there was so much more to come -- but sometimes, there were other places where juliet's mind was forced to be. the opera being one of them. it was no secret that carmen demanded a lot from her, calling for both her mental and physical best at all times. it was perhaps why she threw herself into the role from the very moment she took a seat in the makeup chair, all with the woman she loved circling over everything else. adeline. juliet hadn't known how she'd be able to focus when she first locked eyes with the other half of her soul from across the room -- how otherworldly she looked. it was in times like these that juliet wondered if the world maybe could simply give her some goodness, without a moment of take.

little did she know just how wrong she would be.

the fire is ignited as all fires are, it is quick and swift. first go the curtains, the aged satin giving way beneath the ember's gentle caress. in the middle of the habanera. some of the ensemble is quicker than she, bolting for backstage. she is soon quick to follow -- but she has forgotten the side where adeline was standing. was it the right? the left? she is in a daze as she turns, gaze frantically scanning the patrons for the one who matters most, the woman she cannot be without.

" adeline?! wh- wh- ADELINE?! "

the panic in her voice is evident. she is grateful in this moment for her life's work, gifted with a singer's projection. she coughs as the smoke enters her lungs, but it does not stop her from continuing to search. she will not leave this building unless she is holding her hand. in life or in death. no matter the hiding in her dressing room, in broom closets, it doesn't matter. juliet has known for what feels like a lifetime that all roads led to adeline. her adeline.

tears spring to her eyes as her search comes up with nothing. the same hallways she has walked countless times before have become unrecognizable, covered in char as the flames swallow them whole.

she doesn't know how she ended up in the dressing rooms, nor does she know how much longer she can stand. her knees have already begun to betray her. she can hear her mother's words in her ears, even if she has not heard her voice in years. you stupid girl. doing this, all for a woman. putting your own life on the line just to make sure she was safe.

she's hallucinating. she has to be. for there she is, emerging like the angel she is from the madness that surrounds them.

" ADELINE! "

she cannot stop the waterfall from coming next. adeline is alive, she is not just alive -- but she came back for her. when she knew juliet would have wanted her to protect herself.

she acts as much as her body can muster, gripping to her hand as she pulls them forward. this time, towards safety. " you... " a broken, ragged cough. " you're alright.. "

[deif1ed-deactivated20240502]

BOTH OF THEM IN this exchange of devilries that lasted beyond the table. the gates of hell had opened up and devoured them both, leaving behind something that still remained beautiful even in its terror. she was no exception. a man would have to be completely blinded to believe otherwise. it was upon this respective devil's food that pakorn allowed helene to sprinkle her confectionary sugar. she understood the mechanisms of the game, which did not lie in the forlorn cards, folded hands, or the sweeping of chips from their broken towers — but the comprehension of when to be the player, and when to observe. and helene, from behind her blackened glass, taking on the role of observer, as pakorn allowed himself to manifest her iron strike. at least here. on this particular table. in this particular moment. after all: pakorn dealt only in absolutes. what remained one moment, did not remain the next.

"they have been far too eager to believe tonight. must be something in the air." like a poison, slipped beneath the tongue, but the game is won. the muffled groans of the other men and her slick, particular praise, and the very wires of him thrum in — well, if not happiness nor satisfaction, then something that was not apathy. "and if you're buying my drink, you know i can't decline." wouldn't. shouldn't. the auxiliaries were an arbitrary trifle. a gentleman's savoy as his mechanical fingers close around hers, if only to dip a charismatic butterfly's kiss to the dip in her knuckle. the wheel of luck is a heavy spinner; you kiss your golden coins when they fall in your favour. to them, it is nothing more than that. and it disguises how the nerves of him fail to feel. even as the wiring buzzes back to life as he rises from the chair, waiting for her to walk before him to the bar. "you doomed that match from the start to be against their favour. i think you should play the next one and i'll be on your arm." a smoke-hazy laugh. driven by clicking metal. "imagine the looks on their faces then."

[bclletragedie]

𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎 when she had met pakorn, the words she had said. he's just a boy -- meant to be anything other than what they are, to escape far away from here. and while she had never explicitly spoken those words to him she felt them, assumptions soon giving way to the hellhound that lie beneath. my oh my, how beautiful it was. now she couldn't imagine anyone else standing beside her and salva, when all was said and done. he had been the missing piece, after all this time. while helene is selective when she plays -- puts her vast wealth and luxury on the table, this doesn't make her eye any less fixated, trained. her smirk of approval grows with each admittance of defeat. and then, what they've been waiting for finally comes. the final shoe drops, another win. it is fitting in all honesty, considering the line of enemies they shared and left with buckled knees -- unable to stand on their own two feet. in her tenure with the hanging man, from soldier to underboss, she had watched many a good man come and go ( in death and in defection ) -- but none had compared to him. the way they worked together was nothing less than part of fate's design.

" or perhaps.. they're not as dim-witted as they appear. only the most intelligent can spot a battle they'll never win. " helene smirks, a hand resting along the crevice of his shoulder. there was no mistaking who she was here with -- the way they had come to move as one. the kiss to her knuckle is accepted with a raised chin and a hum of contentment. " ah, such a gentleman. how refreshing. " a hand comes to rest along the side of his face for a moment before they head in the direction of the bar, a single finger raised to grab the attention of the bartender. they know her face well enough by now -- along with her funds. at the mention of her playing a game -- she can't lie, her interest is piqued. she hadn't thought about putting her own skills to the test, but their luck always appeared endless when working in tandum: it always had. " you know what? " she raises a manicured eyebrow, eyes trailing back to the table before locking with his own. " perhaps i will.... lets keep this lucky streak going, shall we? "

[lospartisanos]

deep breaths.

that’s what she told herself as she followed a familiar route home, on foot. one good thing about living not too far from your place of work. she never liked the underground subway — it constantly made her claustrophobia heighten. catching a cab at this hour on a saturday night was a task that probably would have taken her even longer, which would mean even more time away from her daughter. so, getting home on feet seemed like the best option. it was less than a mile away… what was the worst that could happen, right?

she noticed the figure trailing behind her once she was a couple of blocks away from el anhelo. she couldn’t be the only person on foot in queens, could she? this didn’t mean anything… this, most probably, didn’t mean anything dangerous. still, just to be on the safe side, she decided to take a small detour. while a longer route meant that it would take her longer, she would much prefer being safe than being quick. she clutched the phone in her hand and continued walking.

deep breaths.

after several minutes of walking, nora made the terrible mistake of looking over her shoulder. the very same figure seemed to have been lured by her trail, regardless of the path to her destination. she could feel her heartbeat quicken, her breaths becoming a little more shallow and uneven. having adoring fans was not something new for any escorts of el anhelo, and, unfortunately, some of these admirers were more creepy than others… just like this one, stalking their prey in the dark (discounting the occasional flickering streetlight).

her hands, almost acting on their own accord, find arturo’s number in her contacts list. — i think someone is following me. — eleanora never liked to appear weak and uncapable of taking care of herself, but she also knew when to ask for help if she ever found herself in need of some. there was a pang of shame sharply poking at her heart for dragging him out when he, too, was probably on his way home… but that thought was pushed aside when his response came quicker than her guilt could fully manifest inside her.

upon his request, she quickly pinged her current location over to him and walked a little bit further, getting underneath one of the streetlights and having the stalking shadow in her peripheral — just in case.

deep breaths.

nora isn’t sure how long she has been waiting, cursing the uncomfortable high heels (that she absolutely should have traded for a more comfortable pair of shoes at the end of the night), too caught up in her own thoughts not to notice arturo approaching and immediately linking their arms together. after a short startle, nora lets out a heavy sigh of relief and clutches onto his arm as if her life depended on it. hell, maybe it actually did — she simply hopes she won’t have to find out.

“you’re a lifesaver, darlin’,” she murmurs under her breath as she nods in response to his offer… but if she’s truly honest with herself, she didn’t even hear what he said. she is so overwhelmed with the feeling of safety next to him that she would trust him to step off the pier if only he guaranteed that she would be alright.

right. keep walking. that much she can do. still clinging onto his arm, she follows his lead, not bothering to look back this time. even if the stranger was still following her trail, she didn’t care. arturo was here. arturo would take care of her. she can’t help but notice the way his chest rises and falls, the quick breaths, and she gasps, looking up at him with wide eyes. “did— did you run all this way? oh, arturo, you didn’t—” have to. she wanted to finish her thought, but all she can do is slip her arms around his waist in a slightly crooked side-hug. a wordless way to show just how much she appreciates him. everything will be okay, he’s here. she’s safe.

[bclletragedie]

𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐎𝐅 a world where he wouldn't be here, running to her side the very moment she beckons. every universe he's lived in somehow comes back to her. it's a thought that has kept him awake in the early hours of the morning -- wondering how the hell he could have gotten himself into this mess. falling in love truly is a mess, isn't it? how he was so easily won by her -- tangled around her finger the very moment he heard her speak. and then there was the first time he heard her sing, it was as almost as if his heart was planning its evacuation from his chest.

she was in danger. now that he's laid his eyes on the reality his fear somehow evolves into anger. how dare this man disturb her? think that he had any right to her? to look at her, to be in her presence. and yet, there are times when arturo asks the same questions pertaining to himself. he does not know why she seems taken with him, but he most certainly knows better than to question it. he could love her from afar, but loving her up close, in screaming color, is so much better.

she is everything, and somehow made a man who came from nothing feel like he deserved every ounce of good in this world.

" any time, any place, right? " he hums, his otherwise stoic visage becoming softer, more human. she seems to have that effect on him -- doesn't she? taking a wasteland boy and making him feel human, worth something, by just looking at him. she is magic. it was his promise, wasn't it? extending himself for her own protection even past working hours. with her it doesn't feel like a job -- caring for her never has. " i've gotcha. everything's alright now, okay? "

he wonders what the pariahs would think if they saw him now, their scorpion -- the one who never would stray from their mission, the one who was immune to feelings like this. it's part of the human condition, isn't it? to fall head over heels. call him inhumane but the thought had never once crossed his mind. not before her.

perhaps the inhuman thing would be not falling for her -- desperately, completely, grasping at anything to pull him upright once more. he has somehow become the luckiest man in the world every single time she looks his way, eyes connecting with his own. over and over again. somehow he's convinced himself if he doesn't cherish it, find some way to make sure she knows -- how much he appreciates the gift of her gaze that she's given him.. she'll never look his way again.

as he mentions his ragged breathing, he shakes it off. of course i ran. i would run to the ends of the fucking earth if it meant keeping you safe. he can feel his anger returning at the thought but a bit more finite -- mixed with shock. has she convinced herself she doesn't deserve someone who would drop everything for her? even if her heart is not meant to love his -- as he believes to be the inevitable, he would still come running the second she called.

for her, he would do anything.

" of course i did. " he eventually finds it in himself to speak, shaking off his own emotions in favor of making sure she is okay. " you're okay. that's what matters to me. the pizza place should be right up here -- " he continues speaking as if the words he had been keeping concealed for so long hadn't just spilled over. eyes turn behind them once more, realizing that the threat has since stopped. in fact, he has been a bit more hesitant since arturo entered the picture. good.

the familiar bell sounds overhead as they enter the establishment -- one that he's heard more times than he can count. the best pizza in new york, in his personal opinion. eyes scan the selections for a moment before turning to nora, their arms still entangled. this feels right. even under florescent light she looked startlingly beautiful.

" want anything? " he asks, giving her arm a gentle squeeze as if to say: he's gone. even if the stranger had stopped down the road, they would still wait him out. he could still feel his own paranoia crawling along his back. " i'm payin', and i won't hear any argument. "

[bloodiedfields]

Dilan blushed as she felt fawned over by the stranger. It happened often at El Anhelo, but it was something she had never gotten used it. At least here, she was appreciated for the work she did instead of shamed. "I've had a lot of practice, I guess," she joked with her. Leaving her home at a young age taught her that she had to be resilient and survive doing whatever was necessary, even things that some might call unsavory. She held a secret shame to herself, never divulging that to anyone, but there were no other options for Dilan.

Shrugging, "I've been here the entire time," she cooed, leaning into her client, "maybe you haven't been paying enough attention," she teased her, something she thought her client would enjoy. Despite missteps, Dilan would often try to read her clients and respond accordingly. However, sometimes she'd make mistakes which would get her into trouble.

[bclletragedie]

𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑 heart lie, even when it shouldn't. she had a tendency to be drawn to the pretty, shiny things in life that not even she could afford. falling in love with salva was certainly an unforeseen consequence, born from this tendency. and yet, this didn't stop her from engaging in harmless flirtation every now and then -- simply just because she could. where was the sense in wasting such valuable moments of her life anguishing over what could never be? no matter how wrong it felt. and yet, somehow, she never allowed anything past that: flirting. perhaps it was why she felt able to be so brazen within these walls.

" as i'm sure we've both heard plenty of times before.. practice makes perfect, no? " helene muses, eyebrows raising as she takes another sip from her martini. alcohol and beautiful company -- was there a better way to spend an evening?

the subtle spunk that lit up behind such tantalizing eyes that caged it -- it was hard for helene to miss, nor for her to ignore. " ah... perhaps i'll be visiting dear mr. ishino far more often now, hm? always taking meetings in his office.. i know little of the crown jewels in this establishment. " the other woman is the jewel she's referring to, feeling significantly more confident than she had when she crossed the threshold. helene coppola, insecure? any other evening, she might have laughed in your face. she accepts the closeness with a typical sly grin. she can forget, even if it's just for a moment. " while i'm not one to admit when i'm wrong.. i simply don't know how i could have missed you. "

[gildcdglory]

Though Haneul spent most of his time within the walls of the casino, he wasn't much of a gambler himself. He didn't like the unpredictability of most casino games. Rather, he preferred to act more like a Chessmaster--- making careful, deliberate movements with the goal of destroying his opponents' king. It's the way he operated since he was a child, and though he made a home in the den of temptation known as Old World Casino, he never once reached for the apple.

Still, that didn't stop him from observing those who chose to partake in the casino's offerings. He often prowled around the gambling floors, eyes searching for the wayward souls who might be of use to Burning Gods. He hadn't found anyone worthy of his attention yet, but that changed when he heard the voice of ANAIS GOSSARD, a lingering presence who seemed just a bit too good at winning these games of chance.

❝Enjoy isn't the word I'd use.❞ Frustrated or embarrassed came to mind, but he didn't utter the words out loud. ❝I would've thought you'd gotten bored of scamming poor newcomers out of their spending money.❞ He stepped a bit closer to the player, tilting his head to the side as he added, ❝You pegged me as someone who loves a challenge, but maybe I misread you.❞  

[bclletragedie]

𝐈𝐅 𝐀𝐍𝐀Ï𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 being called a snake, hidden beneath tall grass -- she is a shark, circling their pray amidst the deep. despite knowing the reputation that proceeds her, instead of cowering -- she relishes in it. takes every attempt to exaggerate, even. desperate human men, they've come to learn, love nothing more than taking someone down for the simple sake of stroking their own egos. what is it about her, a woman with a razor sharp gaze dressed entirely in black, that doesn't seem threatening? while she once despised having to ask that question, she's come to the conclusion that there's the true rich folk, and those who throw away money like they're flushing it down the toilet. it's those who come to her, practically placing their money in her hands.

most card games are not just about luck, but about intimidation. even if she has her ways of keeping the cards in her favor -- there is nothing scarier, it seems, than a beautiful woman with a face of stone. at least, in the eyes of her victims opponents.

" no? oh haneul, how you wound me so. " their honey-laced voice tainted with sarcasm as it falls from their tongue. for someone who has little care for others nor the world around them -- they're certainly good at pretending. " thats the thing m'dear -- every challenge you've placed before me has run out that very door with their pockets inside out, like a dog with their tail between their legs. " she positions herself just a hair closer, but enough so that he can listen to every single word as it oozes from between her lips. " here's some advice... get some better players in here. "

[bclletragedie]

                          @descorts

LOCATION: revan's office, the julliard school. FOR: arin gore.

will i at least remember you?

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐌, both waking and asleep. once his protector, now the keeper of his memories. gone were the days of boyhood -- even if always being forced to watch each other's six was anything other than normal. especially so young. he was eight when he first crossed the threshold of the red eye -- neither having the memory or will to look back. he vaguely remembers meeting arin, he does, back when he was nothing more than bone. over the years he had climbed, protected the younger as if he were his own flesh and blood. he had been proud when arin had made it out back then. perhaps he had been worn down by his own jealousy, that he was strong enough to resist the call when revan knew one thing: he had no other choice. and then, arin didn't either. but there was a part of him that would rather it be him to be the last face arin saw before the blackness.

before he opened his eyes, his memories erased. at revan's hand.

the red eye wasn't one to be crossed, one to be betrayed. once you denounced their help, their protection, you were nothing more than a feather blown about by the breeze, broken down by the sands of time. brothers or not, the organization loomed.

will i at least remember you?

frankly, arin, it would be easier, if you didn't. for the both of us.

the answer he's always wanted to say, every single fucking time, has sat on the edge of his tongue -- like a battered vehicle threatening to fall over the edge of a cliff. and you're waiting, watching for it to fall with the warm, tender flesh of your palms over your eyes but you can't help but peak through the cracks of your fingers: waiting for the other shoe to drop.

no matter how much it weighs on him, the reality of his betrayal -- somehow, revan and arin always find themselves in the same place. across from each other, somehow engrossed in conversation. then the tea, there's always tea. he's always found comfort in his friend's presence, in his smile. and yet, he is constantly reminded of the sanctity of brotherhood he threw away the very first time he wiped the slate of arin's mind clean. took away the life he could have had, they could have had.

will i at least remember you?

please. no. forget me. forget me-

" so... " he looks up, taking the cup and saucer from the other, swallowing his own thoughts. they never go away. " what new blend have you brought for me today, hmm? you never told me what it is i'm about to consume. "

[bclletragedie]

                          @relcpse

LOCATION: the boarderline hotel, bar. FOR: pilar estevez.

𝐍𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 he tried to scrub the blood from his hands, the shade of crimson would never not be staring back at him. it was a reality he had come to terms with a long time ago -- or so he thought. he had been so sure of this reality, that is, until he found himself staring down the bottom of another glass of whiskey, then another shot and finally, to top it all off..... yet another glass of whiskey. it had been so long since he felt so pathetic, so overwhelmed by his own weakness. powerless, if he were to be so bold. they had names, names of the active, inactive. the defective were no longer his problem, would no longer have the protection of the conglomerate that had raised them, built them all. but what were they to do about those who remained loyal, those who still cared?

he can tell he's been seen by the woman standing behind the bar, overseeing everything. wether she cares enough, if at all, is up for debate. he is momentarily distracted for a silver of time before returning to his drink -- eyes moving upwards again before tracing over the grout of the backsplash. how intricate it is. is it, or is he just drunk? perhaps, it's a little bit of both.

he knows it's reckless, impairing himself like this. and yet, he's forgotten what it feels like to be so vulnerable. so human.

there's the woman again, this time, standing in front of him. staring directly at him -- as a matter of fact.

" what -- have i been cut off? " he asks, raising a single eyebrow, his face unchanging.

[bclletragedie]

                          @ofhurricanes

LOCATION: old world casino. FOR: malik kareem abdi.

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐘 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃 that wears the crown -- that is, unless you possess the strength to carry it. for ana, the action was second nature. they certainly didn't call them the empress for nothing, without reason. a title so strong must come with the action to prove it. for the evening the emperor is at her side, her arm coiled around his own. cleaning house was always better with company -- somehow expanding her ego more sizes than it ever needed to be. another eye looking over her shoulder. but what made his company all the more indulgent, all the more enjoyable? they knew he was relishing in all this just as much as she was. how easy it was, to screw people over. she is certainly careful with whom she shares her status as a replicant, not of this world -- but you already knew that was a common joke that fell from her tounge. and yet in this house of sin, she cannot resist the chance to exploit the gifts they've been given, especially if it's for their own personal gain.

as she admires the scenery before her, the pathetic dropping their heads in their hands when the hammer finally drops -- they stand, in an effort to get a better view. she will not miss a single second of their misery.

" look at them.. " they hum under their breath, accompanied by an exhale comparable to a dragon releasing smoke into the air. hands rest on their respective shoulder as her words enter his ears. " pitiful.. like hamsters running between their wheel and their shelter. " she had learned how to beat the system that the casino had set out for them, make a living out of taking... wasn't it rightfully hers, after all? after being tossed aside like she meant nothing? if it was offered, it was open for her fingers to tangle it in her grasp. " isn't it just beautiful? "

[bclletragedie]

                           @hcavysoulss

LOCATION: revan's office, the julliard school. FOR: ximena alcatraz.

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 reason why revan's office door was always open, never closed, was that he was simply allowing the students in his tutilage to enter for assistance when they needed it. and yet, this couldn't be further from the truth. an assassin's keen hearing mimics that of a feline -- always on the hunt, never completely releasing the grip on his guard. it's why his eyes dart upward the moment he hears footsteps connect with the cheap carpet of the office hallway, fingers removing the single earbud from his ear as he listens to where the footsteps are going. perhaps he's here too late, he always is. but then again, he trusts his own instincts enough to know he's not hearing things.

it's then he lays his eyes on ximena and his shoulders ease, clearly someone familiar, someone to be trusted. unlike those who spit on the organization who raised them, gave them hope -- she had always stayed.

" ximena. " he speaks calmly, placing the wired headset along his desk. watching his student's grad school audition tapes could wait. he speaks as always with a fixed, neutral expression. " come. shut the door if you'd like... to what do i owe the pleasure? "

[thejackalhasarrived]

DEV PATEL in MONKEY MAN (2024)

[bclletragedie]

tag dump . . . 𝚁𝙴𝚅𝙰𝙽 𝙺𝙰𝙷𝚃𝚁𝙸 !

[wrvtchedhearts]

Rakesh looked up from the beer they were nursing, along with a growing headache of the atmosphere in the place… or the recent bump on their head. Whichever it was, the pain had them turning their head up very slowly, and squinting their eyes to the lights above the bar. “Ah,” they said, looking into the glass. “I actually fear they haven’t… I’ve been staring at my empty glass for almost half an hour,” they admitted. “Perhaps your coworker is otherwise engaged, or I look like I’ve had too many already,” they joked, then made a face. “I haven’t… I had only this one and a small shot before.” And he’d only have one more beer. “I’d like another beer.” 

[bclletragedie]

𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐄 working an incredibly front-facing job -- nahome's coworker has more important matters to attend to within his phone. it's annoying, sure, but nothing the woman isn't already used to. " ah shit -- sorry 'bout that. i'll tell you what... this one's on me. it's not that busy in here.. you shouldn't have had to wait that long. " she knows she doesn't have to cover for her coworkers mistakes.. and while there are plenty of bars within the city looking for a capable bartender, akira has already sunk his claws deep within her. " beer? absolutely. drinking the same, or are you looking to try out a different option? " she examines the bottle and nods, in order to get a good sense of his pallette.

[wrvtchedhearts]

Cian nodded in agreement. “It is not. Better to celebrate small victories than only bring yourself down when the worst things happen.” Which was how their mother had decided to raise her children: all the good things were just good, all the bad things were put under the light. To such a point where it only ever felt like what they were doing was wrong, even when they had great accomplishments to celebrate. It had been made worse when he realised his mother had swept a whole lot of her bad actions under the rug, while celebrating all her victories. 

He smiled as Arturo proudly exclaimed his work motto, figuring that Yamato, who Cian didn’t look as friendly upon, could be happy to have a protector like this. Still, they had to chuckle at the words being thrown around, fuckshit wasn’t one they’d heard before, nor would they ever use them, but they were happy to add it to their list of cuss words. 

“Please do,” Cian said, driving the point home. “I gladly offer it and I am sure my friends will enjoy some extra customers. Just tell as many of your friends about it.” She handed out kindness like this wherever, but talking about herself wasn’t that normal. She was used to being a prop, a bridge, a wallet. “It has been treating me, not good, not bad, just in its regular way. There have been some businesses affected by all these gangs changing territory, but that’s nothing new, and I try to help them keep each other afloat.” He raised a hand to signal the waiter. “Would you like anything to drink, Arturo?”

[bclletragedie]

𝐈𝐅 𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 it deeply enough -- he had somehow managed to associate himself with the new york city equivalent of nobility. him, a man from deeply humble beginnings, who had to scrape together what the world would offer him just to get by. how he had gotten here would be something he would never quite understand, somehow manage to sit at the same table and be respected all the same. " when you've lived as i have, cian, you begin to see some of the smaller things in life as wins. " such as being able to afford an ( overpriced ) cup of coffee, or to afford food to put on the table. it wasn't much, but it was enough. the neon pariahs, however, would forever remain his everything. their fight -- although no longer just for simple survival, wasn't over yet. they had a job to do. " does absolute wonders for the ego. "

he was well aware that yamato had made his fair share of enemies -- hell, who hadn't in this city? there were millions of people to care about and yet, everyone somehow managed to latch onto someone, despise them. perhaps he had too -- but he had found a bigger fish he was aching to fry. his adoration for yamato certainly came from many a conversation -- but it was his willingness to trust him, to give him a chance when no one else would that stood out above all. that promise he made? more valuable than gold. and then he had met nora -- god, where could he possibly begin when it came to nora? every thought that ran through his mind began and ended with her.

" i ain't got a lot of those... but i'll certainly try. " he can't help but laugh. his merry band of twelve weren't just friends but family, his siblings. outside of them he knew very few -- found very few who took the time to see past his walls of self-protection. cian did. and that... that meant something. god, the gangs. born out of their own greed. he didn't necessarily view the pariahs to be amongst them, but he knew the lengths they went to in order to bring down the soul-sucking corporate world weren't exactly legal. his face falls for a moment, however, at the thought of his dear friend getting wrapped up in something that she shouldn't. " you're... you're stayin' safe, right? " he asks, not moving his gaze. they matter too much. it scares him. " i can't have ya goin' missing on me. "

[manny-jacinto]

DIEGO LUNA HOMBRES GQ DEL AÑO (2022)

[herakl]

there's no misinterpretation, no false hope glittering in focused blue eyes. he does not so easily confused infatuation with lust, appetite with starvation; there is the desire to consume what is before him, what has been before him⸻and this is where that troublesome, effectively neglected middle affection undercuts historical presumption of self. does he come here, linger in these shadows, and presume to not be curious? curiosity. the inattentive man's gateway to infatuation, unspooled sentiment anchored in another's chest. it hasn't caught him by surprise yet, by the unbuttoned collar, her hand slipping beneath uncrisp fabric and taking a cleopatra's stand against his cold skin. he imagines this but does not admit to it.

" holden. " he replies, flipping the cigarette between his fingers and then tucking the end between his lips. taking his time now. retrieving the silver plated lighter from his pocket. spinning the striker with his thumb, holding the warm, yellow flame in the short space between them, burning way the white paper. his gaze remains still on eyes turned liquid honey in the light. honey and that pervading red lip, precisely applied and untouched since. corrupted honey. virgin lipstick. the lighter snaps shut, flame smothered, warmth dissolved. second and third fingers again retrieving the cigarette from his mouth as he politely exhales the thin, insubstantial smoke to the side.

" i'm a very patient man when it suits me, " breaking her insistent gaze, maintaining that even impassivity, he observes his hand lifting, fingertips ghosting the fabric of her dress, careful not to press, linger. " and you .. " attention lifts, mouth canting into the slightest twitch of a smile⸻fascinated, if you look closely enough. tangled too tightly in her snare, binds constricting wrists, oxygen, stealing the space between them. " well. take whatever time you need. but if you do find another man you'd rather take you to bed, let me know. hm? you know where to find me. "

[bclletragedie]

𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐔𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 fail her -- not like this. she is quick to draw upon her speech like an outlaw reaches for their gun: ready. aim. fire. and yet, something tells her to run. she's too evenly matched for him not to peel back the thin layers of the woman she has become. he'd run if he saw the ugly truth that lie beneath. they always do. the longer he stands before her, she isn't quite sure how much longer she can fend off the hunger she reciprocates as it grasps at her shoulders. the rest of her targets are nothing more than that -- a mark that she'll soon forget. she never finds herself remembering their names, even if they will never be able to forget her. and yet, despite this being the first time words have been exchanged, his eyes alone had said more to her than words ever could have. a gaze that never seems to leave her memory.

veronica watches him intently, all the while hanging onto every single word he speaks. perhaps, more so than she cares to admit. holden. the name is somehow fitting, somehow handing him a lifetime's worth of appearing rough around the edges. lux had always joked that she was like a magnet when it came to crazy ( despite being one to talk ) -- but he is somehow grounding. all the while, he keeps her on her toes in a way that is both refreshing, and deeply exciting.

" and does it suit you now... holden? " she hums, confident in where she stands. and yet, she cannot stop the buckle she feels in her knees as she is made privvy to the movement in her dress -- the skin-tight, midnight blue fabric clinging so tightly, that she finds his fingers mimicking the touch of the flesh that lay beneath. it placed the image within her mind -- what if it wasn't there? she attempts to shake it off just as quickly as it comes, but the thought is stronger than she anticipated. the way he's looking at her, hell, through her just reenforces its titanium grip. " you think taking me to bed is that easy... just say it and then it's nothing more than, take me, i'm yours? please. " lips wrap around the edge of her martini glass as she holds his gaze, pleading with the last drops of liquor to give her strength. she inches closer until she's centimeters away, just out of reach, watching his expression for signs of change. " maybe that's worked for you before, handsome -- but i'm not that easy. now... " her hand grazes his shoulder, allowing it to rest for a moment before heading in the direction of the door and dragging her hand with it. something about this feels like the beginning -- of what kind of story had yet to be determined. " .......you coming, or what? "

oh, darling. you simply just don't know what you've gotten yourself into. she isn't quite sure if her mind is saying these words to her, or to him. perhaps, it's both.