Queenwolf - LOUVE D'ARGENT: - Tumblr Blog

His  punchline  lands  somewhere  in  the  space  between  them,    or  else  further  than  he’d  intended  to  pitch  it.    Allison  lets  it  hit  the  water  and  sink,    holding  his  gaze  with  hers,    before  she  finally  squints  at  him  above  the  simmering  veneer  of  a  humored  smile.    ❝    A  simple  no  would  have  sufficed.    ❞  Something  tells  her  he’d  rather  avoid  simple;    that,    or  it  avoids  him  and  she  can  only  guess  why.    ❝    Dental  and  vision  for  part  time.    ❞  Allison  scoffs  so  she  doesn’t  laugh.

Someone  comes  in  the  front  door,    jingling  the  chime  to  alert  for  a  new  customer.    Allison  opens  her  mouth  to  call  a  greeting,    but  the  man  covered  in  dirt  beats  her  to  it.    He  finishes  that  apparent  race  with  a  smirk;    Allison  squints  at  him  again  and  pushes  off  from  the  counter  to  put  more  distance  between  them.    ❝    Yes.    ❞  She  tucks  a  chin  -  length  strand  of  hair  behind  her  ear.    ❝    It’s  Allison.    ❞

Before  Flower  Guy  can  try  it,    Allison  says  to  the  browsing  tourist  meandering  down  the  aisle  of  incense  sticks,    ❝    Let  me  know  if  you  need  help  finding  anything.    ❞  Shooting  her new rival  a  lifted  -  brow  look  over  her  shoulder,    she  circles  around  the  opposite  aisle  and  fusses  with  Addie’s  jar  collection.    Her  aunt  is  either  taking  a  long  phone  call  or  she’s  taken  her  lunch  knowing  damn  well  she’s  got  help  to  cover  her.    Allison  chances  a  peek  first  over  at  the  tourist,    and  then  Flower  Guy.    Eyeing  the  pot  at  his  feet,    she  asks,    ❝    Are  you  delivering  something  for  Adelaide?    I  can  sign  for  it.    ❞

When the seasons shift down here, there’s reason enough to celebrate. The city’s got a habit of making something out of nothing about as often as they make nothing out of something. That’s more to do with protecting its own though. In certain communities around here, it’s harder to stay quiet than it is to start talking. Adelaide Argent runs half those communities herself. Probably why he’d been roped into her circle. Hard not to be once the woman deems you interesting enough.

Daniel’s heard about Addie’s niece. This is not what he’d been expecting. That frigid air she brings in with her smells as expensive as she looks and Daniel almost sketches a bow just to really sell the whole vibe. If she wasn’t already biased, Addie no doubt would’ve claimed her aura somewhere in the neighborhood of Chanel. Or whatever the hell that bag’s brand is. He sure as hell wouldn’t know.

“Yeah, first day.” Slothlike and just as unbothered, Daniel moves to stand and presses a hip into the counter on a lean. When he drags his wrist across his brow, it’s a wonder he doesn’t leave behind a streak of dirt. He’s grinning back at her. “Don’t really believe all this bullshit,” he lowers his voice but only enough to convey what ought to be a secret in case they've got an eavesdropper in his supposed boss and waves a hand vaguely in the air to gesture at...everything, “But the old lady promised dental and vision. Can you believe her generosity?” Daniel lets the joke fester between them and doesn’t lose his easy smile. Then, “It’s Allison, right?”

Allison  knows  a  deflection  when  she’s  been  shot  one.    She  lets  it  go  without  a  fuss,    angling  toward  that  fussing  cat  rather  than  pushing  into  Joker’s  space  any  further.    That  white  flag  is  a  freebie.    Allison’s  wiggled  out  of  less  personal  questions  pressed  by  Joker  himself  and  evaded  worse  from  strangers.    That  crowd  outside  lingers  there  for  a  reason.    Between  the  two  of  them,    there’s  enough  useless  intel  to  feed  the  press  for  months;    longer  if  they  got  to  the  useful.

❝    This  is  probably  the  part  where  I  make  comparisons  between  cod  and  caviar,    ❞  Allison  jokes.    She’s  plenty  humored  with  that  self  -  jab,    though  Scott  tips  his  head  and  frowns  at  her  from  where  he’s  still  wrestling  with  the  crate  on  the  ground  a  few  feet  away.    If  he’s  got  an  argument  though,    he  wisely  keeps  it  to  himself.    Not  even  the  challenging  arch  of  Allison’s  brow  dares  him  to  refute  her.    ❝    I’m  surprised  he’s  not  clawing  his  way  out  to  get  to  you,    ❞  she  says  to  Scott,    but  in  answer  to  Joker’s  conjecture  as  well.

❝    Yeah,    ❞  agrees  Scott,    ears  pinking.    His  smile  is  equal  parts  dopey  and  bashful,    and  he  swings  it  in  Joker’s  direction  with  all  the  force  of  the  blinding  sun  coming  out  from  behind  the  clouds.    Joker  had  asked  Allison,    but  Scott  replies,    ❝    I’d  rather  avoid  the  gloves  or  a  towel  and  I’m  sure  you'd prefer that,    too,    so  if  you  want  to  come  and  grab  him.  .  .    ❞

Allison  shuffles  to  Joker’s  opposite  side  along  the  counter  to  make  room  for  the  impending  maneuver.    ❝    Dr.    McCall.    Animal  whisperer  extraordinaire,    admitting  defeat.    ❞  Scott  shoots  her  an  unimpressed  smirk,    but  she’s  already  grinning  at  Joker  knowingly and misses it.    ❝    Poor  Pancake.    If  only  you  hadn’t  introduced  him  to  caviar.    ❞

He shouldn’t smoke in a medical facility. Try enforcing it. The reception desk’s marbled counter shoulders his slight weight. Joker hasn’t stopped bouncing his leg since first he darkened this doorway.

Sokol rakes his enormous black paw over his master’s to try and quell the turbulence. The jostling travels up the light blue lead connected to Sokol’s service harness to where the lead loops through Joker's arm and wraps three times to the elbow.

Allison’s furtive jab is taken with a crooked grin and harsh, breathy laugh that shoots smoke precariously close to the monitors. Shifting from foot to foot both dissolves the noxious cloud he’s created between them and allows his second simper to soften at its edges. The scarlet paint stretches too far back on one end, too far down on the other.

What makes matters worse is Pancake’s drawled meow…and his flat head banging the padded — for his sake — carrier when he tries to escape Dr. McCall. It’s a wonder the trash outside hasn’t piled high enough to form the same barricade it does everywhere else in this town. It’s even more curious that he’s the only one in the waiting room…lobby…whatever it is. Perhaps that’s by design. Not everything’s been spared from Gotham’s true nature. A once-over traces chalky stains from the slush and road salt scattershot against boots worth more than he’ll ever see in his life.

Wagging his painted eyebrows, Joker leans into his next hit so he can watch the derelict black cat try to avoid routine medical care for the umpteenth time. 

“You’d think they’re used to outdoors…” he dodges the subtle topic swing toward him by gesturing at Pancake, “The stray ones…” smoke stacks vent from his nostrils, “But they hate it more than the mole rat I got Nixie from a breeder.” He nudges his chin toward the crate and asks Allison, “Need me to fish him out…?”

It’s  not  hot  enough  to  shirk  sleeves  just  yet  in  southern  Louisiana,    but  even  that  impending  wet  heat  won’t  dissuade  Allison  from  covering  up.    She  has  the  collar  of  her  jean  jacket  turned  up  against  her  throat  to  dissuade  the  wind  outside  from  slipping  through  her  hair  to  chill  her.    It’s  no  use  though;    death  has  a  funny  way  of  keeping  the  cold  trapped  in  the  bones,    so  Allison  will  wear  her  jacket  through  the  end  of  May  and  into  June.    Even  now,    stepping  over  the  threshold  into  the  shop  which  is  markedly  more  humid  than  the  outdoors,    she  keeps  her  arms  clutched  close  against  her  belly.

She  doesn’t  know  his  voice  or  his  face.    Proximity  does  nothing  for  her  recall  in  this  instance.    If  she  knew  someone  eons  ago,    drawing  closer  at  least  reminds  her  body  what  once  came  to  pass.    He  has  no  such  effect  on  her  until  they  lock  eyes.    Allison  draws  her  chin  up  in  defense  before  she  can  check  herself.    There  are  no  dreams  that  spring  forth  to  give  layers  to  his  eyes  nor  memories  she  doesn’t  recognize  that  offer  complexity  to  the  comfortable  way  he  fits  into  this  space.    She’s  got  nothing  to  explain  him  away;    he  is  just  a  stranger  to  her.

❝    That’s  fine.    I  can  wait  for  her.    ❞  Allison  stops  on  the  opposite  end  of  the  counter  and  pivots  on  the  ball  of  one  foot  to  face  him.    It’s  not  so  far  a  distance  that  she  can’t  see  that  he’s  been  sprayed  in  dirt,    but  it  is  enough  space  that  she  can’t  determine  if  he  has  his  own  freckles  or  if  that  compost  dressed  him  down  so  badly.    Allison  indulges  a  friendly  smile.    ❝    I  hadn’t  realized  my  aunt  hired  another  part  timer.    Did  you  just  start  today?    ❞

“Manager’s on a call,” Daniel explains when the bell over the door chimes like he works here but can’t be bothered to do even part time work. He might look the part of employee though as he shuffles between the low shelves, a ceramic planter the size of a sink full of blackeyed Susans clutched against his chest. That he sets down on the far end of the checkout counter. Dirty fingers sink into the dirt beneath the blooms and sift for a fussy moment before he thinks to add, “She’ll be back in a minute.”

It’s family around here. Business is business is business and Daniel doesn’t work here but he might as well clock in. Adelaide’s busy. If she didn’t trust him not to handle things in her absence should the need arise, she wouldn’t have left in the first place. And this is hardly the only time he’s stepped up when she needed him. Fair’s fair. No such thing as owing, not really, but it’s only right after all she’s done for him. This bit of friendliness isn’t much in comparison. Not in the grand scheme of things.

Daniel’s got a face full of flowers, almost a mouthful too, before he remembers he ought to look up. The oddity shop is familiar enough to him by now that he can offer some degree of assistance. Everything else he can fill in the gaps for well enough with his own knowledge. The woman making her way down the central aisle brings with her the cool air that blows up from the Mississippi this early into springtime. Daniel thinks she wears it on her face too. “Help you find anything?”

@queenwolf hi

why are the bots back

I don’t like mysteries. I like solutions.

remember when i sent allison to NOLA and then crystal was cast in swamp thing a year later

happiness falls.

dialogue prompts from happiness falls by angie kim.

there's a fine line, if any, between optimism and willful idiocy.

why would you assume things can't go wrong just because they haven't yet?

hanging up an iphone isn't nearly as satisfying as slamming down a landline.

hope is dangerous.

intuition trumps intellect every time.

it isn't like i was keeping it a secret.

i'm working on seeming less bossy.

you are too old for this juvenile bullshit.

bring a first aid kit, just in case.

i never read the articles, only the cartoons.

i know what you're thinking. i'm thinking it, too.

i won't tell you not to worry, but take care of yourself.

sometimes it's the tiniest difference that can make the most difference.

are you a spy?

my life just isn't that interesting.

no shutting me out and trying to do everything yourself.

i have no idea what you're thinking, but i'm thinking i need coffee asap.

'greetings'? who in hell says 'greetings'?

i'll never scare you like that again.

don't force me to ask.

i wanted to just fucking die.

i feel badly about how we left things.

i thought we were open with each other.

shame is the most powerful and long-lasting emotion we have.

the best defense is a good offense.

stop talking. don't make it worse.

it's easy to be generous when you've taken so much.

i can't fall apart. someone has to get shit done.

i care more about authenticity and honesty than tact.

i didn't realize you still did that.

sometimes, in moments of great stress, we revert to childhood behaviors.

i love your sarcasm when it isn't pointed at me.

thinking and planning are luxuries we can't afford.

'no withholding anything from anyone'. that's my new mantra.

you have to save the highest penalty sin for last. build up slowly.

slow down. start from the beginning. what happened?

i don't care if i never find out what happened.

have you ever noticed how different things sound out loud instead of inside your head?

you can be honest without being cruel.

what are you hiding? i can see it behind you. what is it?

when you can't talk, people assume you can't understand.

i am a different person in english.

can you blame me?

sometimes semantics matter. words matter.

i'd rather give you the benefit of the doubt.

i would be horrible at your job.

you know a lot more than anyone's given you credit for.

a fucking break is what i want.

it did not feel 'rare', living through it.

everyone thought they were next.

there are some things you can't say out loud.

i'm glad we tried.

anger feels so much better than grief.

i don't like remembering it.

it's okay if the answer is no.

god, we're a mess.

this isn't a movie. this is real life.

if this was a 'choose your own adventure' book, what would you hope for?

when did you wake up?

there's no harm in hoping.

how long will i feel this way?

the first try is always the hardest, right?

the world should have to accommodate you, for once.

you can squeeze my hand when it hurts too much.

stop playing games and say what you mean.

you've been doubted long enough.

you doubted me, didn't you? just a little.

i don't want to forget. i want to remember.

i still have good days and bad.

[ * ] and in the bath, when you look down, she looks back. shaking and deforming in the ripples as she lies beneath the surface.

He  wasn’t  hired  because  he  could  ward  a  door  or  a  desk  or  whatever  else  piece  of  mass  -  produced  furniture  he  thought  needed  the  lockdown.    No,    that  would  go  against  the  shiny  and  new  company  policy  that  Allison  passed  through  minimal  hands  to  accommodate  Argent  International’s  shiny  and  new  facelift.    It’s  those  wards  he  can  construct  around  thousands  of  years  of  information,    including  but  not  limited  to  the  very  unsavory  family  history  that  hangs  around  her  neck  every  day,    that  dragged  him  into  this.

It  was  Adelaide  who  pointed  him  out.    ❝    You  know  you  have  an  enchanter  in  your  IT  department,    ❞  she’d  said  in  that  same  tone  she  takes  when  she  wants  to  talk  about  a  vibrant  red  she  got  from  Tuscany.    That  is  to  say,    she  always  wants  to  talk  about  the  vibrant  red.

❝    Enchanter?    What,    like  a  witch?    ❞  Like  you,    goes  unspoken.

Aunt  Adelaide  had  been  two  glasses  into  a  very  non  -  vibrant  red,    but  there  was  no  questioning  the  clarity  in  her  eyes  when  she  smirked  knowingly.    ❝    No,    Marcheline.    Not  like  me  at  all.    ❞  Very  helpful.

Now,    Allison’s  fresh  off  an  overnight  flight  from  Nice  that  she  worked  all  the  way  through.    She  doesn’t  look  it.    Sat  across  from  this  supposed  enchanter,    she  looks  every  inch  the  nepo  business  mogul.    No  one  can  claim  she  wasn’t  born  for  the  role  though.    Allison  sits  forward  in  her  seat  and  regards  her  eight  A.M.  with  equal  parts  easy  affability  and  cool  reserve.    He  blinks;    she  does  after  a  contemplative  pause.    ❝    Intentionally.    ❞  If  she’s  alarmed,    she  doesn’t  appear  to  be  so.    ❝    Aren’t  all  cybersecurity  attacks  intentional?    Unless  you’re  suggesting  that  someone  on  our  team  wants  to  play  both  sides.    ❞

@queenwolf

i'm careful. even with the dark army gone, i still keep wards on my door—twelve, arranged in four neat rows of three. and even here, at this temp cybersecurity job, i do the same thing. wards pasted on the underside of my desk. leon's here for a job for a few months, so i found work.

everyone's heard about the argent family. a few google searches told me everything i needed to know. major company, arms dealing recently discontinued. as if you can just stop being a milder lockheed martin overnight. you'll need more than that to clean it all up.

i guess i'm technically part of that cleanup now, even if i'm here to monitor for all the bad shit. like before, with the last corporate job. you saw. rehabilitating a company as if that's even really possible. but when i find an obvious hole in security, i patch it. and when i find a hole that was put there by someone else, i report it. as expected.

which is why i'm here, in allison argent's office, awkward and uncomfortable. i hate the feel of the uniform against my skin. my weight shifts, one foot to the other. where do i even start? at the basics, i guess. "i think someone intentionally left a hole in your security." i blink. that probably made it sound dire. "i found it during my audit. think i caught it before they planted a rootkit." fuck. i'm talking on too high of a level. ".... so, no malware yet. i've started patching it, but it was via internal access."

Allison  had  clocked  Oswald  on  her  way  through  the  crowds.    There’s  something  magnetic  about  the  tycoon,    less  in  the  way  that  a  wave  clings  to  a  shoreline  and  more  in  the  way  that  necrotized  flesh  will  always  eat  itself.    That  is  to  say,    Gotham  consumes  its  own.    There’s  no  making  it  out  of  this  city  without  knowing  the  Penguin,    even  if  only  in  name,    and  that’s  if  one  makes  it  out  at  all.    Allison  doesn’t  have  the  habit  of  lingering  in  any  one  place  long  though.    Oswald  doesn’t  draw  her  in  with  the  way  he  proselytizes  to  whatever  foolish  crowd  he’s  gathered  below;    Gotham,    on  the  other  hand.  .  .

❝    I’m  sure  he  just  likes  the  sound  of  his  own  voice,    ❞  Allison  surmises.    Her  lips  are  pursed  around  the  rim  of  her  glass  as  she  says  this,    her  dark  eyes  sparkling  with  or  without  those  neon  lights  around  them.    Nix’s  claims  are  uncontested,    her  authority  unchallenged,    and  Allison  only  sits  rigidly  in  her  seat  because  years  of  etiquette  classes  are  not  so  easily  forgotten  even  in  spite  of  the  years  since  consisting  only  of  rebellion.    ❝    I  wouldn’t  say  that  about  you.    ❞

Allison  doesn’t  trust  the  din  around  them.    The  socialites  that  dance  or  mingle  by  the  bar  aren’t  interested  in  anything  but  that  they  are  here;    that  doesn’t  mean  all  of  them  merely  bask  in  Nix’s  exclusive  invitation.    Allison  half  expects  a  tray  of  drops  to  make  the  rounds,    but  maybe  the  Lounge  2.0  is  more  subtle  than  its  predecessor.

❝    I’m  rarely  alone.    ❞  The  concession  doesn’t  harm  her,    nor  is  there  intention  to  disarm  Nix.    Not  that  she  could.    Allison  is  still  smiling,    no  teeth  displayed  in  threat.    ❝    I’m  not  here  working,    if  that’s  what  you’re  asking.    ❞  She  abandons  her  drink  on  the  table  between  them  and  watches  the  dregs  of  that  pink  creation  settle  in  the  bottom  of  the  glass  before  meeting  Nix’s  gaze  once  again.    ❝    How  do  you  like  business?    The  sharks  are  eating  all  this  up.    Were  you  looking  forward  to  that  or  are  you  itching  to  peel  off  your  skin?    ❞

Her Trident cocktail almost matches the neon yellow of her dress. The sheer number leaves little to the imagination as most have come to expect of The Iceberg Lounge's ostensibly least tolerable proprietor. Oswald sits beneath them, below the mezzanine close to the Lounge's largest dance floor. The wrap-around second floor's framed by stone-like pillars and growing vines that appear to thrive in spite of the boreal habitat. Nix had spotted Allison from below, abandoned a conversation she wasn't all that welcome within anyway, and made her way up to a familiar face.

The glassy clink of her glass landing atop Allison's table marks her territory before the rest of her does. Silver heels click, then her ankle performs a twirl as to drag a chair toward her to claim. " It's all he does, you know. " She warns, sitting herself down and crossing one leg across the other's knee. Nix reclines, at home as she should be in the place she herself built. Oswald's an ideas man, she thinks, less of a practitioner. His hands are cleaner than hers to this day. 

" Those, uh, " She knocks her chin to peer at her business partner and his ilk over the balcony, " Important-looking conversations with other sus guys in suits. " She catches herself then, furrowing her blonde brow and exacerbating the down-turn of her pout. Collecting her drink, she muses aloud against the rim, " I guess people might say the same shit about me... "

There are no Talons to watch her tongue for her. None that are visible, anyway — but Nix knows better than to assume any allusion to safety to be truth. Learnt in more than a number of hard ways. She takes a steep breath and a mouthful of jalapeño and cucumber-infused gin, then steers her canted head toward Allison. " Flying solo? " The notion that she may have thieved someone's seat opposite her, despite her line of questioning, is lost on her. " Or got your eye on someone down there? "

SWAMP THING EPISODE 1, SEASON 1

❝ Fear could make a believer of anybody. ❞

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ—ㅤA STUDY IN DROWNING. (accepting!)

Dr.    Scott  McCall  manages  to  exude  all  the  warmth  of  a  summer  day  in  both  scrubs  and  a  white  lab  coat,    even  somehow  a  sharp  contrast  to  the  cold  outside.    The  cat  he  is  trying  to  coax  into  complacency  in  its  crate  on  the  floor  of  his  office  is  none  too  pleased  with  the  setting  and  Allison  is  amused  beyond  reason  that  there  is  an  animal  alive  distrusting  of  Scott.    He  is  valiant  in  his  patience,    but  the  cat  isn’t  having  it  yet.

Allison  leans  against  the  reception  counter  beside  @jokethur.    The  receptionist,    Katie,    is  on  her  lunch,    so  it’s  lucky  that  Scott  was  expecting  his  own  delivery  from  Allison  and  met  them  in  the  front.    She’s  still  got  the  takeaway  bag  tucked  beneath  her  arm  to  shield  from  the  puddles  outside;    her  over  -  the  -  knee  Weitzman  boots  are  splattered  with  mud,    but  at  least  the  food  is  safe.    Scott  had  flashed  moon  -  grateful  eyes  at  her  as  soon  as  the  door  had  opened  and  hadn’t  lost  that  expression  even  now  that  he  crouches  down  to  speak  softly  to  his  unimpressed  patient.

❝    Talking  about  him?    ❞  Allison  inclines  her  head  toward  the  very  unhappy  cat  on  the  ground.    She’s  smiling,    genuine  and  comfortable  without  unwelcome  eyes  on  her.    Outside,    she  and  Joker  had  probably  gathered  a  crowd.    In  here,    at  least  there’s  the  facade  of  safety.    Allison  knocks  her  elbow  against  Joker’s  next  to  her.    ❝    Or  you?    ❞

❝ It's very hard to believe something when it feels like the whole world is trying to convince you otherwise. ❞

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ—ㅤA STUDY IN DROWNING. (accepting!)

The  prow  of  the  Wraith  disappears  against  the  black  of  the  horizon  now  that  night  has  cast  across  the  sky.    Set  against  the  dark  like  this,    the  ship  suits  its  name  just  as  much  as  its  captain.    Allison  casts  a  watchful  eye  on  that  endless  pitch  in  the  distance  from  her  place  beside  the  wheel;    at  her  side,    Inej  has  locked  the  direction  into  place,    but  holds  steady  at  the  command.    The  crew  sleeps  below  and  all  is  quiet  save  the  wood  creaking,    the  water  cut  through  by  the  keel.

They  have  said  little,    yet  so  much,    tonight.    It  had  gone  silent  between  them  for  long  enough  that  Allison  is  forced  to  think  back  on  what  last  was  said,    if  she  spoke  at  all  and  if  it  was  anything  of  much  worth.    Something  about  faith.    Something  about  the  heart.    Allison’s  is  a  steady  thrum  in  her  chest,    a  rhythm  set  in  tandem  with  the  waves  all  around  and  just  that  constant.    Above,    the  moon  is  hidden  but  full  of  milky  light  where  it  is  tucked  behind  the  clouds.

❝    I  know  few  who  compare  to  your  steadfastness.    ❞  Allison  smiles  at  her  companion  beside  her  and  suddenly  it  is  no  longer  quite  so  dark.    That  lunar  light  spills  between  them  when  Allison  reveals  her  teeth.    ❝    Has  it  not  been  you  yourself  who  has  turned  even  the  most  hardened  of  hearts  into  something  tender?    ❞  There  is  the  length  of  a  strip  of  wood  or  two  between  them  and  Allison  doesn’t  dare  cut  into  Inej’s  space,    but  she  considers  it  for  only  a  moment.    Instead,    she  softens  her  smile;    she  won’t  dull  her  teeth  though,    not  when  @taitropa  bears  such  sharp  knives  herself.    ❝    What  is  this  foul  mood?    Have  you  been  at  sea  too  long,    Captain?    ❞

if i got nothing from that movie, at least i got this promo shot

allison IS a relatively known figure in certain circles. the argent name is a known name and, though much of its history is tainted, it still holds its weight when convenient and necessary. this is even more true as allison grows into her role as the sort of monarch of the name and paves a way for a better reputation.

❝ Men just say whatever they want and everyone believes them. ❞

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ—ㅤA STUDY IN DROWNING. (accepting!)

The  new  and  improved  Iceberg  Lounge  may  or  may  not  boast  a  true  chill,    but  the  cold  clings  to  Allison’s  bones  regardless.    Swatched  in  a  night  sky  silky  sheath  from  décolletage  to  ankle,    the  fabric  frothy  where  it  falls  in  sleeves  down  her  slender  arms,    Allison  sits  every  inch  the  heiress  to  a  grand  fortune.    She  nurses  a  drink  that’s  so  pink,    it  no  doubt  would  set  off  EMF  sensors,    and  feigns  disinterest  in  the  crowd.    Really,    she’s  had  passive  eyes  on  the  bar  all  evening.

Amusement  excavates  one  dimple.    When  she  swings  her  gaze  around  to  @banschivs,    it’s  a  deep  pock  of  knowing  as  obvious  as  the  glint  in  her  dark  eyes.    Starlight  there  turns  purple  from  the  LEDs  around  them.    ❝    Preaching  to  the  choir.    ❞  It’s  funny  that  the  Argents  boasted  of  a  matriarchal  hierarchy  after  keeping  Allison  so  long  in  the  dark.    That  was  two  men  behind  that  decision;    she  doesn’t  like  to  think  about  her  mother’s  role–  in  her  life,    period.

❝    You  know,    the  worst  part  is  that  they  all  feed  into  each  other.    ❞  Allison  tosses  pin  -  straight  hair,    made  so  by  way  of  direct  heat,    over  a  shoulder  raised  in  gooseflesh.    ❝    I  try  not  to  find  myself  in  situations  where  more  than  one  man  can  talk  at  a  time when I'm around. If at all.    Hearing  them  speak  to  each  other  is  just  as  bad  as  hearing  them  speak  to  me.    ❞

hello. welcome to rionach's OG roman empire. also this loser

Abby Arcane in Swamp Thing ↳ 1.04 Darkness on the Edge of Town

🐦‍⬛ 𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘 𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — quotes taken from ava reid's novel. some edits have been made to allow for rp purposes. feel free to adjust for pronouns/names/etc.

❝ It began as all things did: a girl on the shore, terrified and desirous. ❞

❝ The ephemerality of things is what gives them meaning. ❞

❝ They were both creatures of rage and salt and foam. Both could strip me to the bone. ❞

❝ I wanted nothing more than to tempt their wrath, because if I were brave enough, I might earn their love instead. ❞

❝ I was a treacherous, wrathful, wanting thing, just like he was. Just as he had always wanted me. ❞

❝ Although the tide pools had not shown me my face, I had been revealed. ❞

❝ It was fae-like trickery. There was no answer that wouldn’t damn me. ❞

❝ You’re so pretty. You really are. You’re the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen. Do you know that? ❞

❝ We must discuss, then, the relationship between women and water. When men fall into the sea, they drown. When women meet the water, they transform. It becomes vital to ask: is this a meta-morphosis, or a homecoming? ❞

❝ I wanted to say I don’t believe you. ❞

❝ I wanted to say thank you. ❞

❝ I wanted to say tell me more about who I am because I don’t know anymore. ❞

❝ I could tell the whole story as if it had happened to someone else, and it would be completely painless. ❞

❝ The weight of a memory is one thing. You get very used to swimming with it dragging you down. Once it's loosed, you hardly know what to do with your body. You don't understand its lightness. ❞

❝ You don't have to take up a sword. Survival is bravery, too. ❞

❝ In the end I learned that the water was in me. It was a ghost that could not be exorcised. But a guest, even uninvited, must be attended to. ❞

❝ If you can learn to love that which despises you, you can dance on the shore and play in the waves again, like you did when you were young. ❞

❝ Anything can be taken from you, at any moment. Even the past isn't guaranteed. You can lose that too, slowly, like water eating away at stone. ❞

❝ It saved me in more ways than I can count. Because I knew no matter how afraid I felt, I wasn't truly alone. ❞

❝ Are there any ships on the horizon? Will they signal back to me? I never got the chance to know. ❞

❝ But stories were devious things, things with agendas. They could cheat and steal and lie to your face. They could crumble away under your feet. ❞

❝ I wish I had fought. ❞

❝ I know I beat him in the end, but for so many years all I could do was run and hide. I just sat there and let the water pour in around me. ❞

❝ I didn’t know that I could fight back. I didn’t know how to do anything but wait to drown. ❞

❝ Every wanting man has the same wound he can use to slip in. ❞

❝ I wanted you, too. For so long. It was terrible. ❞

❝ Sometimes I could barely eat—sorry, I know that sounds like the strangest thing. But for days I didn't feel hungry at all. I was... occupied. ❞

❝ You took away all the other wanting from me. ❞

❝ It was a beautiful house, but not a clever one. It was a house with no imagination. ❞

❝ Fear could make a believer of anybody. ❞

❝ Didn't all drownings begin with a harmless dribble of water? ❞

❝ There's very little worse than when our heroes fail us, is there? ❞

❝ Men just say whatever they want and everyone believes them. ❞

❝ Love transcends petty theological squabbles. ❞

❝ But if fairies and monsters were real, so were the women who defeated them. ❞

❝ It doesn't matter. I'm not afraid to care about you. ❞

❝ It's very hard to believe something when it feels like the whole world is trying to convince you otherwise. ❞

❝ You're not just one thing. Survival is something you do, not something you are. ❞

❝ You're brave and brilliant. You're the most real, full person I've ever met. ❞

❝ The sea is treacherous, but women are even more treacherous. ❞

❝ You don't see yourself very clearly. ❞

❝ Challenging me isn't pestering. I'm not always right. Sometimes I deserve to be challenged. And changing your mind isn't foolish. It just means you've learned something new. ❞

❝ Everyone changes their mind sometimes, as they should, or else they're just, I don't know, stubborn and ignorant. ❞

❝ Moving water is healthy; stagnant water is sickly. Tainted. ❞

❝ If you want to see what you are, look into the tide pools at dusk. Look into the sea. ❞

❝ I will love you to ruination. ❞

❝ You can die as easily of thirst as you can of drowning. ❞

❝ Love is a fire that cannot burn alone. ❞

❝ The better you know someone, the more terribly you could hurt them. ❞

❝ You don't have to love something in order to devote yourself to it. ❞

❝ A romance is a belief in the impossible: that anything ends happily. ❞

❝ If a story repeated itself so many times over, building itself up brick by brick, did it eventually become the truth? A house with no doors and no windows, offering no escape. ❞

❝ How terrible, to navigate the world without a story to comfort you. ❞

❝ That was the cruelest irony: the more you did to save yourself, the less you became a person worth saving. ❞

❝ I was a woman when it was convenient to blame me, and a girl when they wanted to use me. ❞

❝ I believe you. ❞

❝ Things are only beautiful because they don't last. Full moons, flowers at bloom. You. ❞

awooga?

breathes heavily

𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑? beta editor in use. plot-centric, open to alternative verses. info below the cut, to be expanded upon. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐊𝐘.

VISUALS. | SCORE. | SIDEBLOG. | STILES.

slides.