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cesca-untoldstories · 2 years

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sorry if this question sounds so dumb but what's the meaning behind Jota and Cesca been bizarre soulmates? what's the difference between conventional soulmates?

💜THERE ARE NOT DUMB QUESTIONS MY DEAR!💜

I'm really glad you asked this tbh-! this will help me and people to understand a whole more what's the meaning behind Francesca and Jotaro been bizarre soulmates~! this is something I worked for so long and means so much to me and to a better understanding I would make a little warning that this might contain spoilers from Jojolion and Stone Ocean, so is gonna be in "Read More!"

THE MEANING BEHIND JOTARO AND FRANCESCA BEEN SOULMATES "We are two halves of the same whole"

(thank you so much for the phrase Mape!)

As all Jojo's fans know, the bizarre adventures carry a great inspiration in paranormal events and without apparent explanation: From Vampires and transformation masks, Aztec Deities that were launched into space, aliens, stands, ghosts interacting with people, animals / microorganisms with fight spirit, gods taking control of human bodies for a simple ambition, among other things.

The Greek myth of the Soulmates lies a long time ago. when humans were first created, they had a different form than that they have today. They were both man and woman, had four arms, four legs and a single head made of two faces. Aristophanes tell the story of the Soulmates:

"According to Greek mythology, humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves."

Jotaro and Francesca were once a complete person, a complete balance between complete destruction and the stability of controlling everything. the need to know everything and at the same time wishing not to have had knowledge about it.

The name behind their whole is finally said in Universe 33, Jojolion, is Kei Nijimura. She is indeed so similar to Josuke (8) due both coming as a fusion of two souls for the complete balance. She is the one that will be a contribution to Josuke's self-discovery. Fusions are known to work under the fruit of rokakaka, but Kei Nijimura or rather Kei Kira was conceived under the strange condition of being the perfect fusion of two souls in its purest form shedding its stubborness. Always said by Holy Joestar-Kira:

"your transparent eyes are full of mystery, your look gives security and at the same time fear. looking into your eyes is like looking at two people at once."

Speaking now of Jotaro and Francesca;

They being soulmates was not a fluke of fate, just as the stands attract each other, so does the need for their body to become one again. The problem with this is that they both have quite a strong and contrary personality, because they are obviously two opposite halves, and their true purpose is to work together to be in harmony again...

but for that it takes time, patience, acceptance.

They don't know that they are soulmates but many people feel the same essence in them; that is to say, it is not that they use the same perfume nor do they dress similarly. each one has a well-marked difference in personality and totally different tastes, but the essence of them is to generate deja vu. Muhammad Abdul once mentioned it in 1988 when Francesca manifested her Stand and Abdul wanted to give her a proper name just like Jotaro made her pick a card but this card came out the same as Jotaro. "The star". Abdul mentioned that this usually didn't happen often, it was teased by Joseph and Polnareff but Kakyoin asked "how unlikely was it that it had happened" to which abdul said the chance was only 1%

The relationship of soulmates is not something that should be seen only in the love field, it is included but it is one of the many edges that a star can deliver. they are often described as "the complete opposite piece that fits perfectly" in each other. but the problem is that everyone accepts their essence except them.

it is a constant fight; a 100-year war, both trying to row to different sides wanting to reach the same destination. but once Muhammad Abdul mentioned and it was what Noriaki kakyoin remembered in his last moments before he passed away in the water tower. when both parties decide to collaborate together, it may be the beginning of a power that has never been seen before.

Kakyoin watched in that clock tower as Francesca lost her arm and fell into the void after Jotaro finally collaborated and protected each other from her. a power-up for both, inexplicable. the complete harmony embraced them both but more than anything their Stands.

A soulmate relationship that does not lie in love once together will flourish. It is a slow and painful process that both must face, more with their respective traumas, in order to understand each other perfectly. the further apart they are, the more bizarre events will occur for them to get back together. They may fall in love with other people, they may want to have lives apart from each other. but their need to be together, to grow together is to feel like a soft fire to which you add more wood.

By the end of the events of Stone Ocean, Francesca and Jotaro in their last breaths before dying next to each other decide to finally hold hands again, both floating in the sea... listening to what each had to say. finally their souls can be together beyond what they as humans can stop. You can't contradict a destiny no matter how hard you try to escape it...

and that is finally shown with their last breath, Jonas Kanokami (Jonas Kujo originally since Francesca hid that pregnancy from Jotaro for personal reasons)

The last breath for the universe. to start one bright new, where this soulmates can finally start the process of been one again.

:3 ta-cha!

#jojo oc #jjba oc #jojo's bizarre adventure oc #francesca castiglier #jotaro kujo #jotacesca #my bizarre soulmates

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stingray-sins · 3 years

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Somewhere only we know...

Summary: It’s an alternate universe explained after Enrico Pucci’s second universe reboot. The hard day after the events in Egypt have triggered a return to "daily" student life in Japan with new things to discover.

Part I

Approximately two weeks had passed since that bizarre trip through the Middle East in a reduced number of days but the feeling of being present and active within that adventure was still latent, the chest would tighten every time the cold embraced the city for the night and although it did not compare at all to the extreme temperatures they experienced, the simple fact of not being fully stable still filled them with a feeling of bitterness, which they did not know how to express or speak openly.

Despite the great changes acquired, returning to everyday life became more difficult every day; Francesca faithfully awaited the arrival of Mr. Joestar through that great gateway to the Japanese home, despite the fact that the situation had presented itself in the best way when he first arrived, the feeling of receiving good news with his request to find her family kept her hopeful . Jotaro on the other hand seemed more reserved than he ever was, it is not easy to deal with the fact of carrying a huge responsibility on his back and even more exhausting was having to accept that he would carry him like a cross all his life. Every morning the same routine, hiding his face under his ruined cap, and leaving home without touching the lunch that her mother had lovingly prepared for him and living off the wretched cigarette until nightfall.

The large entrance door was opened with a bang, from it the man with his gray beard and bright emerald eyes peeked out, trying to argue with his not so fluent Japanese with the taxi driver, who was clearly trying to rip him off with a higher fare abroad.

─"Papa! "─Holly exclaimed, getting up and moving away from that traditional central table that led to the entrance while she ran to hug him as was family tradition. Joe, her youngest son, did not differ much from her mother's attitude since he was just as excited as he ran to his grandfather. Francesca, although she was just as excited to see the old but radiant Mr. Joestar, she only followed with her eyes and a smile, the day had arrived and her facial expression brought good news.

─"What a pleasure it is to be able to see you again, what has happened in my absence? I hope Joe continues to practice that sweet symphony that he taught me last time and 'Cesca working the language well" ─Old Joestar laughed, taking off his hat as he hugged his daughter back and felt like his youngest grandson hung from his arm like a little monkey, Without a doubt it was a very great happiness for him to see his daughter and grandson back up and as happy as ever.

─"It has been quite a change in this house and I cannot be more grateful to her company" ─the woman mentioned while holding her father's coat ─"There is no day that we don't laugh while we share the odd story or song verses... a little help here and a little help here, it is a joy to know that I am no longer the only woman at home."

─"Grandpa!" ─The dark-haired boy exclaimed as he climbed on top of the adult to tell him one or another feat obtained in those weeks ─" And I'm teaching her! Sometimes we sit on the edge of the terrace face to face, if she manages to answer me the phrase in Japanese she earns a mandarin... although she usually wins me when I have to answer her in Italian..."

Joseph listened attentively as he shook the boy's hair and proceeded to enter the house completely forgetting the Japanese traditions, Francesca had closed the grammar notebook for a moment although she could speak it quite well, writing was a disaster and those two weeks were they had made him more than eternal.

─"Hasn't Jotaro arrived at the house yet?" ─Joseph asked, sitting down at the low table while he took a look at ‘Cesca's embarrassing notebook and she stubbornly took it from him.

─"He should be here soon, you already know him... neither he says goodbye when he leaves or greets when he arrives but I suppose they are things of adolescent boys, right?" ─The blond-haired woman winked at Francesca, she simply sighed and then laughed as she lifted her shoulders as a symbol of "Men, who understands them."

A couple of hours passed until the door was heard opening slowly, Jotaro found it quite strange that the lights were still on in the middle of the night, he hoped to arrive when everyone was in their respective rooms so as not to start a conversation with anyone but when he entered he only found himself with his old Grandfather laughing quite loudly as he once again narrated the story of his hand to the ladies and the little one.

─"I think it's great that you have arrived, my grandson, we were waiting for you" ─Joseph announced, extending an arm to greet him properly and with a sigh he agreed to return the greeting. He was tired enough to hear his loud voice echo through the room but he looked up at the old man saying in a would-be voice. As those at the table were seated, Holly got up to answer the phone as usual every night to speak with her husband. Joe made a kind of tower with the tangerines that adorned it while Joseph placing his hands on the table intertwined his fingers announcing with a sincere smile.

─"In the following days, Kakyoin will be transferred to the central hospital in this city. The foundation has done everything possible and his parents were already notified immediately, the news was quite harsh for them and stronger for Noriaki himself, although they managed to rebuild and transplant most of his damaged organs, it is quite difficult to assume that he would not return. to walk never again."

Joseph paused for a moment in his speech, analyzing their faces when listening to him speak, it was undoubtedly quite amazing news at the same time, it was quite heartbreaking again, asking himself "He's alive, but at what cost?" Within the gazes of the two, the bright eyes were noticeable in both, Francesca rested her hands on the table expressing a full happiness when hearing the news, She no longer needed to control her body fluids, she wanted to express that happiness with pure tears and nobody went to stop her. Instead Jotaro tried to hide his happiness under that dark cap, but his smile was bigger than the desire to hide, Joseph knew for all his life that he should rethink Noriaki but he also knew that he would not be alone anymore.

─"Mr. Joestar..." ─Those soft words made him pop out his thoughts when he heard the voice of the minor with an air of questions on her face, they could be celebrating the impressive strength of resistance of the redhead but there were other doubts on the table that had not been clarified still. Francesca preferred not to look him in the eye when asking but her hands unconsciously touched Joseph's hands and he froze for a moment. ─"Have you known about the whereabouts of my family?"

There was only a silence in between, and Joseph's big hand placed it on the girl's purple hair to caress it gently while Francesca tried not to break at the moment by nodding. She getting up, she gently asked permission to go get some air, she had a broken smile which she directed at Holly who was returning to the room. Joseph shook his head and looked down again.

─"It's been difficult" ─the old man sighed while he still couldn't recognize how much longer the lie should continue ─"Jotaro, do you have a moment?"

They both got up because of this issue, he did not want to speak it so openly since the walls listen and he needed someone to trust what was tightening his heart the most at the time. They walked long enough and in silence until they reached a kind of pergola, the same one where he once played wrestling with his little grandson, being defeated with a great performance from him. Before he could speak Jotaro beat him to it.

─"How much longer do you plan to hide the truth from her, old man?" ─He looked up with determination, he was not going to hide more secrets than he was already hiding, although it was difficult for him to admit that a part of him avoided creating more ties with the girl simply because of the uncertainty of creating a bond that would disappear with time . At least that's what he was trying to show, which his mother didn't take five minutes to forge.

─"It has been my question every day Jotaro, and that is why I wanted to talk about it with you" ─he took a breath of air leaning on a nearby wooden pillar ─"The news is not fresh, after three days I contacted a family member from her to find out that it would not be an easy task to deal with her family. Her father... belongs to one of the most recognized mafias in southern Italy, the girl's surname is not at all common and therefore a sought-after surname. That day I introduced myself to the family member as a simple writer who wanted to have an interview with his father, who gave me a tour of Francesca's house pointing out the greatness of the home until we were in a beautiful and colorful garden where two graves were perched..."

─

─"Enough travel, what brings you here sir...?" -Said the rough voice of Salvatore Castiglier. ─"Joestar, Joseph Joestar" ─offering his hand to greet him cordially without receiving an answer. ─"Mr. Joestar, I was not in my plans to receive you but I see that you are carrying a photo of Mia Figlia with you and I wanted to ask you where she took that photo from." ─"I am a renowned writer in my hometown and in one of my trips to Africa, more specifically Egypt, I managed to capture a photo of this young woman which caught my attention for my next novel." ─He lied with charm in his words.─ ─"I'm sorry but that may not be possible, times have changed and my little girl is no longer in the land of the living, her soul rests next to her mother in that garden that attracted her attention so much." ─"I am very sorry for the news in advance but could I ask you..." ─"I do not usually answer questions that do not concern but your journey must have been long to get here; My daughter Francesca was sweet and naive, and that itself determined the end of her life. The lessons to my boys have always been clear: "there is nothing stronger than family blood, no one but your family will ensure your safety" but Francesca did not see it from that side, stubborn like herself, obstinate to obey my orders , clearly with her actions she deserves to be buried where she is."

─

Jotaro checked his pocket once more to find the pack of cigarettes but only found the packaging with a pair of colored lighters. The news was not good at all and just thinking about that answer he clenched his fists inside his pocket.

─"Since that day I have been keeping the news to myself, I have clearly dealt with bigger problems but not when I have at stake the fate of a fifteen-year-old girl" ─Joseph said as he sighed in relief, it was a sensitive issue and with the years of experience had learned to make decisions better thought out rather than lightly, or at least tried to make them less hasty ─"I have made a decision about it, I have noticed that in a short time 'Cesca has created a crucial bond with Holly... and her possibilities for personal development are more tied to my daughter than to a bastard who has that thought with her own blood..."

─"Old man, just answer me one thing" ─the boy's marked voice stopped the thoughts aloud of Joseph who looked up, clearing his gaze towards him ─"The reason why you left that place was..."

Joseph stared at his grandson for a long time but he only got a subtle smile as he opted for a calmer position, a position of acceptance in his final decision ─"Expulsion, more specifically, expulsion for causing a clean hit to the face of someone out of deserved." ─Jotaro lowered his gaze denoting a smile on his face, as he walked to the older man to place a hand on his shoulder and give him a couple of gentle strokes on him. ─“I couldn't have expected less from you."

Joseph placed a hand on the hand of his grandson while he smiled, he knew that within the legal framework the decision he had made was not the most appropriate but the most appropriate. He left the establishment while Jotaro sat on a nearby wooden bench taking out the last remaining cigar and placing it between his lips to light it.

─"How much more do you plan to hide behind the bush, woman?" ─he blurted out softly as he leaned back on the wooden pillar watching the smoke dissipate into the air.

─ ""Woman" is a very distant word for someone who from now on will live with you under the same roof" ─she was heard from the bush while she stood again while cleaning the occasional branch from her purple head.

─"How much did you hear about the conversation?"

─"Enough to be here and not want to close my eyes tonight" ─sighs the shorter one, walking to the entrance of the pergola, still had a tight chest but it was not to show vulnerable, she was simply trying to appear once again her tranquility to promote tranquility to the other. An awkward smile that faded when the taller made a space next to him for her to sit next to.

She took three steps to the small wooden bench and sat with nothing but looking forward, her posture was loose and her shoulders slumped, Jotaro simply had his eyes closed as he exhaled once more the cigarette smoke inside him, he felt that the minor's hand was holding her uniform sleeve tightly, she had clung without stopping to look forward and hiding her face between the hair strands that fell from her head, she raised her voice a bit broken.

─"Do you think they will ever deign to look for me again?" ─Her voice trembled, this time soft and nervous. She did not want to show it but tears had started to roll down her cheeks, wetting the wooden floor, yet he did not take his eyes off the front of her.

─"Who?" ─Jotaro asked removing the cigar from his mouth for a moment to deposit the ashes in a corner of the place.

─"My Family" ─it was difficult for her to pronounce the last word to the girl, and instinctively she pressed her right hand on her chest, feeling an inexplicable but at the same time painful emptiness inside her.

─"Your family? The only family that I know of yours is this one here and the one that awaits us in the central hospital of the city" ─The young woman stared at him in amazement, the older one could see the glassy eyes of the young woman, her nose and cheeks flushed from crying and her mouth shaking without making a sound, the young woman with purple hair looked forward again and leaned her back against the wall on the nearby wooden pillar, she released the black-haired uniform to place her hand on the bench but was drawn back to the hand the old one. The difference in size was quite a lot but she did not hesitate to squeeze her small hand in the same way.

─"I'm scared Jojo" ─Francesca finally announced with a nickname that had come from inside her thoughts, she had never expressed insecurity in front of something and all her life since she has remembered she has defended herself from life had always been the buffer for the others but at that moment she needed someone to be there for her.

─"Don't have to be, at least not anymore" ─Jotaro said inserting the cigar between his lips, from the outside he looked like a completely stone man but inside he was experiencing a sense of calm and serenity like never before─ "try not to think about it since you don't need it anymore 'Cesca."

Francesca looked up still with glassy eyes and she smiled sincerely after weeks, in all she was right, there was no need to feel fear when she was no longer alone. She stopped squeezing his hand for a moment but neither moved her from the place, they both closed their eyes enjoying the silence of the moment.

─"You're right Jojo, I shouldn't be anymore."

#Writing.🐠#Jojo's bizarre adventure oc #jjba oc #jojo oc #Francesca Castiglier #Jotaro Kujo #PlasticBeach.🐠

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berryvalentine-archive · 3 years

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💕 forehead kiss with Cesca and Jotaro! (thank you so much for all your constant support Berry! eternally grateful)

Kiss Prompts. 💕 forehead kiss

It had been a long time since they had seen each other, and Jotaro was hoping this time he could be honest with her. This confession had been a long time coming, but at the same time he didn’t have it in him to confess back then. He was young and dumb, and still trying to process what these feelings had meant. Spending time apart he thought that maybe he would get over Cesca, especially since he had married and ended up having a child with someone else. Soon enough that marriage had failed, sometimes Jotaro wondered if it was because of the feelings he had for Cesca he had kept to himself...He was so closed off, if he had known he’d see Cesca again maybe he wouldn’t have bothered getting married, but he also wasn’t sure if waiting for Cesca would be worth it.

Now that he was going to see her again, Jotaro was going to take his chance. He had been eager to finally be honest with her. He had rehearsed it so much in his head how he would say it and thinking of what her potential responses would be... The time they spent together was a bit awkward, especially since Jotaro kept waiting for the right moment to come. There had been so many awkward silences, but at the same time it wasn’t truly that awkward as they so often held these moments of silence between them. Even back then. Sometimes Jotaro preferred silence; sometimes it was alright to be in the company of someone you care for without needing to hold a conversation at all.

The evening went on and many conversations followed, but not the most important one. Jotaro was having a hard time bringing up what had been on his mind. Time continued to pass and nothing had changed... They spoke of memories of their past but neither dared to admit the feelings they once had for each other... and possibly still do. Jotaro felt a bit nervous, especially when he noticed Cesca had stood up getting ready to leave.

He took a deep breath.

“Wait.” he reached for Cesca’s wrist, his grip was a gentle one but Cesca could hear in his voice just how serious he was.

“What is it?”

Silence once more.

“I need to tell you something...” Jotaro didn’t look at her though, he stared at the wrist he was still holding in his hand. “It’s something I should’ve told you a long time ago...”

Cesca’s eyes widened, could it be what she was thinking? Something she had also wanted to tell him for a long time? Her heart felt heavy... Why this? Why now? Please don’t say what she thinks he’s going to say. It can’t happen. Not now. “Jotaro...”

“Just listen.” he cut in. “I’ve kept it to myself for too long...”

“Jotaro don’t do this.” Cesca was quick to speak up once more.

Jotaro didn’t understand. Was she rejecting him?

“...What?” Jotaro was confused.

It broke Cesca’s heart really - it seemed like it was never the right time for them. When Cesca wanted to tell him her feelings before Jotaro was going to get married, and now that Jotaro had been separated from his wife now it was Cesca who had been with someone else.

“Please... Don’t say anything else.” Cesca’s eyes looked so sad. It wasn’t fair. Their timing was never right. She slowly leaned forward to kiss his forehead. To Jotaro this felt like a goodbye kiss. Jotaro looked up at Cesca a bit surprised by her actions... he looked off to the side. Maybe it was stupid for him to want to be honest about his feelings...

Maybe one day the time will be right, but that time wasn’t today...

#prompts #kissing prompts #cesca-untoldstories

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mistaeq · 3 years

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♤♡♤ 》 You already know my self indulgences, , ,

B u t

Artwork[s] by @cesca-untoldstories and @ohmykatt0

i'm not putting the headers because the beautiful artworks speak by themselves owo

oh my.... it's them... stevie and sophie do be getting their men😭 bye i'm gonna simp for them for the next 4 hours straight... shoutout to the artists and ofc to the creator of these beautiful ocs ♡

#dora answers #oc ships #good vibes #daniel j d'arby #terence t d'arby #thegambler0ffate

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utterxdesires · 3 years

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starter for @classicdecadence

It wasn’t a strange thing to see new people, sort to speak, around him but it did happen from time to time, be it that they were moved in their ranks, or just temporarily placed in the other sections of the business matter, Flynn didn’t pay it much attention. Not unless he knew the person, like he did Scarlett, as he did see her working closely with his father and then older brother as well. He had his thoughts and opinions on why she ended up working closely with him now; from what he has heard and read, she was one very competent operative, the type his father wouldn’t get rid off that easily. And with the whole engagement of Dorian and Cesca, Scarlett followed to his ranks almost immediately after. Sitting in his chair, the blue hues took her in as she fiddled with some documents; taking the glasses out of his drawer, Flynn put them on, glancing at himself in the reflection of a computer monitor before speaking up. “Scarlett, do you think I look ridiculous in these?”he then asked as his gaze shifted towards her. “Leona said they look fine, Loretta said these won’t fool anyone; I kinda think she might be right.”he spoke with a huff as he pushed them up his nose.

#classicdecadence #int; flynnxscarlett01 #m; flynn #idk what this is but take it lol let them get to know each other ;)

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cescalr · 2 years

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Teen Wolf

To be fair, I think all my fandoms are controversial about ships aren't they?

put a fandom in my ask and i’ll answer:

otp - Stalia! all the way, babey!!!

favourite canon pairing - I would've said Stalia BUT SEASON FIVE MY BELOATHED (it's my favourite season the Angst is so good oh my god it's great writing fodder. best season for a ficcer is s5 i take no criticism on this matter i am right) so. uhhhh can't be scira s6 my actually beloathed. marrish amounted to like nothing at all. Chrissa!!! chrissa yes chrissa good chrissa wholesome chrissa flawless we like chrissa in this household. I think Draeden though has to be the best canon one just because it's around longer than Chrissa and like. I adore Braeden and she made me not hate Derek which is a Huge feat bc for some reason for a really long time I literally loathed him akjsg;alskdjg like chill out, Cesca. He's a dude. He's just a dude. (s2 Derek my forever despised though. cannot find it in me to like him before Braeden shows up. I tolerate him. I have no idea why by the way his like whole story is exactly something i would normally grab with both hands and never let go of. I will defend him though K*te A*gent can meet me in the boxing ring I'll win. I'll win through sheer spite.)

worst pairing ever - sterek #notsorry. once again in canon they can barely tolerate each other (in the seasons that spawned the pairing) and then in the follow they're like. allies-because-scott. That's it. Also i kind of just get big-brother-little-brother vibes from them when they manage to get along so like.... no.... also. the most reason. Derek's history with Kate and being a sixteen year old preyed upon by a 23/4 year old would make it... really bad to have him... be 24.... and with Stiles... who was 16.... you understand? yes. character wise i just don't think it'd work out.

guilty pleasure pairing - no such thing as guilty pleasure but ig people would think maybe steo or staleo idk? but yeah I am guilty about nothing. I will ship everything without fear. (steter might be the most genuine one though because back when I was dumb it was very hypocritical. but at the same time I only do it in very specific circumstances (time-travel/ages are changed; never in canon) and mostly i prefer the whole Paralellism thing they've got going on - they're basically like. the same person it's weird - so there's that.)

a pairing you want to see more - like my very specific brand of steo. but also my very specific brand of everything bc i am Very Specific like my very specific brand of stora and malira and allydia and chrissa and marrish and-

that pairing everyone likes but you’re like “lol no” - stydia? Not my vibe my friends. Used to be, used to be. I was not very smart at 15.

favorite non-romantic pair - uhhhh jeez uhh steter is so intriguing bc it's just so bizarre in like. our souls are the same (derogatory) kind of way. platonic frenemies steter is hilarious and psychologically fascinating. Stiles is like, one of the only people Peter respects. When Derek sees Stiles in the locker room wearing black it's mirroring Derek listening to Peter in the locker room wearing black. it's all connected perfect combinations are rare in an imperfect world etc etc. Their canon dynamic (I don't even know what to categorise it as) is so goddamn interesting. But also like sciles, though I'll ship them too their friendship/brotherly bond is everything to me. And I tend to see it (as in, from my perspective on the canon) more often than not as mostly one-sided romantically/sexually speaking (from stiles). so sciles. but also i'm really fond of stira platonically (I'll take the romance, but we do need Some platonic friendships on this damned show alk;sjdfg;laskg). and absolutely scolia. Scolia is a great friendship! s6 does not exist. I tend to ship scydia more romantically later on in the show but like around s3/4 it's such a good friendshp, I love it. But yeah no s6 should have been scydia, and I'll stand by that (I'm including s6A as well as 6B in this. stydia and scolia should not have happened imo). Stydia is actually really really good platonic and horrible terrible romantic, so I have to go with Stydia I think. Non-romantic stydia my beloved <3

#teen wolf is complicated ask me this again tomorrow and i'll probably give you entirely different answers #it's been a decade and i'm STILL forming my most basic of opinions on this damned show!!!!#absurd shit #tw #love it though #<3 thanks!#hope u don't hate the rambles i'm giving u here

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eldonash · 4 years

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Losing Balance - Fran&Orobas

Happens during and after this. Also Featuring Carrington @carringtonblackwood; @caraitaliadolcemeta Possible TW: Death, dismemberment

Summary: Orobas and Francesca have spent all week looking for Carrington. At the far edges of their emotions, Orobas is lost to anger, and Fran is lost to desperation. The two, usually clear-minded and violent killers, fall into an argument as they are unable to process the hopelessness nor help each other now that it’s gotten this far. Somehow, they find Carrington among the wreckage.

Fifteen minutes. Francesca had been waiting for fifteen minutes, and if she did any more back-and-forth pacing, there would probably be a hole in the cemented floor right under her feet. Could fifteen minutes make a difference when he had been missing for days now? Fifteen minutes wouldn’t make a difference. Could they? Maybe she should start looking instead of keep waiting for Orobas. He’d probably throw those empty threats at her anyway.

Taking out her phone - with no messages from him, by the way - she shared her live location with the vampire. He could come to her wherever she was at Amity Road whenever he decided to show up. Because sure, Carrington was dead anyway, right? “He fucking isn’t. Lui non è morto!” Francesca exclaimed to herself, getting more and more nervous with the waiting and the wondering and the possibilities. And as a sudden presence made itself known behind her, she spun on her heels, startled, too much in her own head. “Cazzo, Orobas!”

Orobas didn’t feel exhaustion often. It usually happened when he’d battle through crowds of people in the past, to the point Haxian had to drag and carry him out almost limp over the hours of fighting. Now, it wasn’t just a physical exhaustion eating away at his resolve and his temper which was a low simmering frustration like it was warming a blast furnace. It was emotional and Orobas had no fucking idea what that meant. He was covered in blood when she turned around, it splattered up over his face in tiny dots, his shirt half on where a large burn had singed part of his chest and up around his shoulder. The stunning ivory handled knife was in his hand, dripping on the ground and though he was infuriated about everything-- he held no emotion on his face, just this distant stare like he wasn’t all present. He isn’t even sure how on instinct he found her. When she said his name, he glanced up with red eyes, and it took every ounce of his control to not cut her throat open immediately. He couldn’t exactly speak right away, his mind was racing, and he was leaving a trail of blood near Amity Road. “Fran-- cesca,” he mouth was crowded with fangs, and his voice struggle to now sounds demented. “I’m-- on the edge. I’m-- on a dangerous, dangerous edge. If I don’t find him--”

It was like taking a trip to the past. Back in the eighteen hundreds, she had seen him like that numerous times. Although, for whatever reason, life drew them apart and the sprees weren’t shared anymore, that image would never leave her. Francesca blinked multiple times, trying to make sense of the figure in the of her. Why. “Why did you come?! You’re in no bloody shape of doing anything, I -” Whatever distance there was between them, she ended it in a second, rushing to him to stand in front of him, close enough to delicately pull his shirt and examine the injuries on his skin. “You’ve been walking in the sun…?!” She concluded, taking a moment to stare him in the eye. She was angry, worried. “Why the fuck would you do that?!” Careless to his previous threat less than an hour earlier, her voice was higher than usual, angrier than it normally would be. If he weren’t that terribly hurt, no doubt Fran would’ve shoved him. Both of her hands rested on each side of his face, her hazel, caring eyes gazing in his, trying to have him focus on her.

“I don’t know why!” He roared at her, the sunken features of his face contorted in a rare show of rage, and his body almost dissipated into a swarm of bats, the sound of fluttering wings echoed in threat around them. Like the shadows of the night wanted to pool around him. Orobas age showed right now, though a ninty or so years off of elder, he could appear so far from human-- sometimes far from vampire when he was at this dangerous point.

“Look at me. You can’t do anything like that. Let’s go home, take care of you - you’ll feed, you’ll heal and we’ll come back. This isn’t a suicide mission. I can’t fucking lose the both of you. Do you understand me?!” That look, bloody and distant, bored and evil. Orobas was certainly moving on his instinct, slaying and hurting whatever came his way. She knew what he was thinking - he was controlling his urge to hurt her too. But she ignored his blade. She ignored his impulses and focused on taking care of him. How could she love a man who had to control himself not to kill her? That was a query hard to answer, yet she was still there for him if he needed her.

His hand lifted and in a frightening disjointed amount of speed, it pressed harshly into her cheeks, covering her mouth from speaking more soft caring words when his emotions felt like a hard strum of a string instrument in the back on his mind. A snarl burned all his eyes to red, the whites dissolving into crimson, unblinking and staring inches from her face. He stepped closer, staring keenly at her face. And then walked passed her, releasing his hold and stepping a few more steps. “Why? I don’t want this anymore. I want to find him tonight. I don’t care the cost.”

She cared. She cared more than she dared to say it aloud. But having his hand grip her face and control her movement, keeping her steady, like a rag doll, that wasn’t alright. No doubt Francesca respected him. He was double her age, about to become an elder and more often than not was caught with a deadly gaze in his handsome eyes. Only someone daft wouldn’t respect that. But she didn’t exactly fear him, for whatever reason. Maybe she should.

Growling quietly when she was released, the brunette exhaled loudly through her nostrils, angry. Angry that he was letting himself get to that point, angry that, through the years, more often than not, took his frustrations out on her. What the fuck was she? “Really? Isn’t it obvious?! You’re severely hurt, you probably haven’t had a shut-eye in days, all that blood there is probably splattered on walls instead of in your lips - how the fuck do you think you got like that?” Keeping her distance this time, Francesca was done being loving. It didn’t make a difference, anyway. “Now, I’m not bloody helping you like that. I’m not going to be an accomplice to your exhaustion just because you got to do every fucking thing your way. You’re always like this, you act like you don’t give a shite, you never call, you let people get out of your life and suddenly you’re putting yourself in harms way to protect them! Do you fucking believe Carrington would want to see you like that? Madonna, look at yourself. You’re more bat than vampire.” Scoffing, she turned around nervously, so angered to the point she didn’t want to look at him. There was more to just worrying for Carrington’s safety in that speech. There was anger about a lot of things. Like he’d often get to where they were now, as if on purpose, as some kind of masochist cleanse? He was hot and cold with her, he treated her bad then good, then carry on acting like nothing. She was fed up with everything, from Carrington’s disappearance to Orobas ways of treating her. “Merda, I’m so done.”

Her words barely got through to him, distorted, echoing. The beastal part of him starved-- hallowing his face, skin paper thin and barely draped over his cheekbones. He knew she was correct in the why he was appearing like this. He hadn’t eaten well as said, he always hacked his victims up over drinking. Francesca knew him for too long. His mind swam in red, like a lapping ocean against his sight, even as he looked out, everything dimmed in darkness less the pulse point of blood vibrated through the air to lure him. Lust suddenly cut into him like a jagged crystal, a hard lump that settled in his throat, a deep thirst he’s not experienced since Haxian locked him in a coffin for ten years. His jaw clenched, teeth sharp, and as she kept telling him off he felt a screech confirming his transformation barely stop from coming out of his mouth. His back to her the entire time, he tilted his head back, looking at her when she spoke the last words. He felt the need to say he ‘wasn’t like this all the time’ when it wasn’t true. He’s done this in the past centuries-- and it never worked out for him. They are all dead less Harsh and Francesca… and now Carrington, who else in the future? When you have lived this long you fell on repeat. A circle of shit that proved it was your core personality over and over. He just looked at her. Barely seeing, barely even knowing it was her.

“Francesca,” the name came out as it always did, though far from being in control it came out dark, demented like someone else was speaking. He turned to walk back towards her.

“You of all people know this is me. Mhm? The real me--” his head tilted again, the bones creaking. “I believe I’ve figure it out. For once, I am ready to have a family. I want-- us together and I will do anything, absolutely anything, to have my way. You think all this for Carrington is taking it too far--” he leaned forward, a crooked sharp, monstrous fanged smile. “I’d create an army of spawn to find you if you were in this situation. I’d find the person who hurt you and kill every member of their bloodline-- I will take it too far, because this is what I am becoming. You can handle it and me right now. You are probably the only one in this moment who can. So help me, mhm?”

“Non - non fare così, non ‘Francesca’ mi,” she spoke under her breath in complaint, denying him the right to call out to her. This time she was the one who kept her back turned at him. It was always the same script. He’d call her, call out her name and, somehow, she’d listen. This time, however, she forcefully ignored it, which took her all her strength, to a point where she didn’t notice the change in his voice. Whatever was happening right now, she couldn’t deal with it. Why couldn’t he act rational now, like he always did? Why let himself get to this point now?

As the bones cracked behind her, so close that they snapped in her ears, the woman turned to look at him. She couldn’t recognize him. Why? She questioned herself once more. Francesca shook her head in denial. “You’re going to kill yourself.” Hands turned into fists, arms flat to her sides. That anger grew hotter, boiling inside. She didn’t want to truly burst, not now, not when Orobas was this mess; this handsomely frightening mess. “Yes! Yes, I do think it’s too far! I told you - I’m not willing to lose you. Or him. Much less the both of you, one after the other.” Sappy words, he was just trying to calm her down and have her listen to him, get on board with his plan. But she disagreed with his plan when that could get him killed because he was acting sloppy. “You don’t know what you’re saying. Haxian doesn’t let you stick around long enough to have a family. You’ll leave again.” Her words were cruel, but they reflected her fears. She knew he had always been absent, distant, and now he was with somebody else. She’s smelled her on his belongings a few times when dropping by Bloodhaven. She was willing to accept all that, bury her anger again, as long as he stopped being careless.

Everything spoken burned through his skull, not understanding why she couldn’t just say okay and do what they always did. “This time I’m not,” he growled, not wanting to believe it. It had been him holding her back from moments like this, toying with her thirst like pulling on pigtails until he had to save them from the mess. Now, it was justified to himself, at least, that was all the emotion is could strongly hold onto right now. The jab at Haxian, at his maker was sharp and she knew it. Orobas didn’t have a choice in that, and worse-- he’s always listen to Haxian no matter what. Rarely has he said no, and even then when comparing someone, anyone else to his maker-- Haxian would always come on top. Too much time together, too much of their conscious bled as one unit. Even now, he could feel him in his mind, urging him to kill more, because Haxian would always have his back no matter how far he took it.

“Ok. I’ll help.” Her response was cold, yet decisive. “Follow me.” And she disappeared, leading the way to a dark alley. From there, in the shadows, the vampire spotted a man standing by his threshold, about to enter his home. Fran appeared right next to him, dragging Orobas along. “Evening,” she greeted the human. A healthy, perhaps a bit tired, adult human. He looked at her, surprised. “It’s a bit chilly outside. I could really use a warm place to wait for my cab. Could you please invite me in?” Eyes locked with hers, the man nodded, saying the words: please, come in, wait inside. Fran passed through the frame along with the man. “Are you alone?” He nodded. “Good. Would you mind inviting my mate inside too? You understand - a woman in a man’s home, all by herself, can be dangerous.” Come in and be with your friend, he said to the vampire standing outside. Francesca broke eye contact with the human, waiting on Orobas. “Eat,” she told him sternly. She was only helping any further if he got himself better. There was no arguing there.

When she kept on urging him to eat Orobas felt conflicted and angry, but when he followed and the man allowed him entrance, he paused on the stoop. The moment the man locked eyes with him fear surfaced, the flush of color raced away from his face, and his pulse ticked faster and faster. Orobas watched the bob of his throat as nerves made him swallow the spit in his mouth, the tendons and muscles ready to scream, and the monster there smirked and in a burst of speed broke the fragile body against the far wall. Suspended in the air, their spine snapped instantly, and all their ribs shattered from the impact. Blood gushed from their mouth as they exhaled the forced shove of air from their punctured lungs and began to gag on it. Their scream muffed in a gurgling sound as Orobas looked them in the eye, there was a second where it appeared like he still wouldn’t feed. The pulse weakening as the limp body was only held up by his hand, but he conceded, the scent too much and bit into their neck, teeth like serrated blades punctured the artery and Orobas drank deeply. Consuming the rest of their blood until the artery deflated from the lack of liquid. He let go, the body crumbling at his feet, the broken drywall bloody from the impact. Orobas let it heal him, and made to unbutton his shirt, tossing the ruined item on the floor.

His red eyes looked over at her, the blood not enough to quell his dangerous mood, but he looked better. He took a jacket from the human off the wall and pulled it on his shoulders.

It was unfair that he didn’t even take a moment to compel the man out of his terror. Watching the human stare, completely frozen and horror-stuck, was pitiful. Yet it was understandable. If the circumstances were different… Well, if they were different, nothing would’ve changed. Because that’s how things always played out when the two got together, apparently. There was suffering in every aspect - physical from others and emotional from unresolved feelings from them. Francesca always would put up a fight, treated him coldly, just as much as he’d keep his hot-and-cold thing. They always hurt, cut open, gutted and killed together. It’s always been like this, as if he still could awaken the animalistic side of hers that’s been implanted in her so many years ago by her sire.

The chandelier of the living room shook above their heads as the man’s body crashed against the wall. Still standing on the side, the Italian intently watched, slightly apprehensive that Orobas simply wouldn’t do what she told him to do. It was common sense that he had to feed sooner than later, she couldn’t understand why he was putting up a fight. Was it only because she was the one forcing him to do so, instead of it being by his own will? Nonetheless, he heard her. The temptation was probably too strong for him to resist and persist with his stubbornness. When fangs ripped open the human’s throat, Fran decided to take a seat in an armchair and start thinking what the bloody hell they could do next. Run up and down the bloody place looking for a lead? Find vampires and torture them, wish they knew anything about Carrington and make more enemies in the process?

She realized Orobas had been looking at her, the man now flat on the ground like a sack of potatoes, in a pool of his own blood. Fran stood from her seat, noticing through the layer of blood how there were no more sunburns over his skin. “You’re looking terrible in that jacket.” It was her way of complimenting him, actually, because she was still quite angry - maybe she’d be constantly pissed off for five decades or so. Sadly, he could never look terrible in her eyes in any way. And it only got her all the more annoyed. “Certo. E che facciamo adesso? How can I help?” Finally, she yelled to him. At least he wasn’t that hurt anymore, in spite of the obvious mental exhaustion.

“Should I forgo everything then?” He teased while she yelled at him, unzipping it and depositing it on the ground to walk around the house and find a bedroom. The man lived a boring life, a soul easily forgotten if the lack of pictures of family was to go by. Though of course, he didn’t have any photos of his friends either-- should he? Did their kind do that sorta thing? Haxian and him aren’t in one photo together, no need to pull such old memories when the future was right there.

He couldn’t possibly be teasing her right now. Hazel eyes squinted at him in response, not really taking the time to lash back at him. But as she carried on with genuine questions to pressing matters, he simply turned him back on her and walked further into the house! Orobas wasn’t taking the piss, after all, he was truly going after the man’s closet to try and find something more fitting to his personality. Why not take a shower while at it? She thought. Maybe put some of his cologne. Mentally drained, Francesca fell in the sofa and rubbed her face, the portrait of frustration. Both of her hands were placed on her stomach as her questioning eyes stared at the ceiling. A crack opened there too when the man’s body hit the drywall. She didn’t know what to do.

A pang of something frustrating surfaced as he found a dress shirt in their closet, and he washed his hands and face in the bathroom. Ignoring her wasn’t entirely on purpose, though on brand for Orobas when she raised her voice at him. He was thinking of a better plan than interrogating people and trying to find out who knew what. There was a bad feeling in his gut that someone knew something, but was keeping quiet for the fear of the label of rat being put on their back. Droplets of water clung to his face, still exhausted, thin and gray. Eyes a deep crimson, he licked his lips, the taste of blood still present and his stomach coiled in thirst for more. Walking out of the bedroom, he gave her a look as if to ask, ‘is this better?’, but was already buttoning up the dress shirt and made to sit with her on the couch.

“Someone said they could do a locating spell, but it’s going to be too late. I just can’t believe it will work without people bargaining for stuff while we won’t have time,” he scratched at his fang with a nail, lounging back improperly and stared at the mangled corpse. “The person I killed before I got you, said they saw someone on the beach with a truck and swore they took someone from the water. Maybe it’s him, maybe it's just another human corpse. He has to be on Amity Road. I think, the best course is to find the truck. Black, overly large with equipment in the back.”

Orobas’ return caught her by surprise. When she heard the water running, Fran truly thought he was washing off all the blood. Which wouldn’t have been a bad idea, it just sounded wrong taking a shower when all she could think of was Carrington. When he sat next to her, her expressive eyes were nearly overflowing with water. She quickly sat up and rubbed them, humming in agreement in a weakened voice to the silent question he threw her way. Not really though, he still looked terrible and she still preferred him in his own clothes, but - Francesca cleared her throat, inhaling quietly. The last thing she wanted was for the vampire to notice she was crying right there. The woman who had been quietly waiting for him to finish draining a man from his blood was now crying in his sofa. It was pathetic. She felt pathetic. Yet she couldn’t help it. Fran without her emotions just wasn’t Fran.

“Fine,” almost promptly, the brunette stood up to her feed, running her hand through her dark hair, clearly distraught. Fran, who’s never been patient, now just seemed restless, unable to stay still for too long. “Let’s move then.”

Orobas sensed the emotion in her easily. Attuned to suffering within people. He stood up and grabbed her hand, and made to look her in the eyes. People crying was Orobas’ greatest weakness. Not in wanting to console them, but to savor it. When someone got to that point of emotion, where it swelled their eyes, and fell in tracks down their cheeks-- it was truly beautiful and distracting. Orobas’ gaze was predatory, but for once he didn’t lash out and make her feel ridiculous, didn’t say something to have her anger rise and to lash out at him. Though he quite enjoyed that too, he felt the heaviness in his chest over the situation. Carrington was making both these ruthless monsters emotional to the point of confusing. He pressed and kiss to her cheek, and walked past her and towards the door.

“Let’s move then--”

Orobas darted for a good part of the night, around Amity Road looking for the truck that was scene. It was the only lead they had, and for tonight, it could be the only one they should follow so it didn’t get distracting. He battled the desires for mayhem. His anger at its peak, his concern a confusing anxiety driven reaction, but as they looked, he was thankful he had Fran with him tonight. So they could keep one another in check. As the sun was only two hours away, he finally found it in a parking lot. Looking around nothing really moved, the place quiet as it should be this early in the day. No. “Francesca--” in a dissipation of speed to ran towards him.

Carrington wasn’t quite sure how long he had been walking. The road seemed to lead nowhere, even though he knew where he was. Didn’t he? Amity Road. Wasn’t it? Had he passed that street already? Was that the same car parked there on the corner? Carrington swiped a hand over his eyes. Surely he wasn’t walking in circles.

He looked up at the sky. What time was it? How long until the sun came up? He’d need to either find his way home or find shelter. It wouldn’t do to have survived the hell of the last week (or was it longer?) only to perish at sunrise because he couldn’t find his bloody way home. His watch and his phone weren’t working, and there were no clocks or signs to let him know the time. Only sallow, greasy light from the streetlamps, the smell of wet and rot, and the feeling of simply wanting to sit down… just for a moment. To rest. Perhaps he would.

Carrington stumbled… and fell to the sidewalk. And this time he didn’t get back up. Christ, he was so tired. Lying down wouldn’t do any harm. He would rest. Just for a moment…

That complicity gesture forced her to swallow the lump of sadness that gathered in her throat. Discarding those overwhelming emotions was the only way to focus on what was important: the task ahead. They had to find Carrington, or at least a second lead that got them anywhere closer to finding him. Anything but remaining where they were now.

Whist one would look in the right, the other would sweep the left, going through block by block following the same pattern, covering the area as quick as possible; not exactly together as in side by side, but hardly apart, for with a whisper and the blink of an eye Fran would be standing standing beside him. But nor their speed nor their insistence seemed to matter when that bloody truck was nowhere to be found. Maybe they’d given him a wrong lead just so Orobas would get off their back, somehow believing they wouldn’t end up dead in a ditch after Orobas was done with them after that lie.

Exhausted, Fran was about to give up. She was hungry, the sun would come up in a few moments and they couldn’t find a vehicle that was probably nonexistent or maybe was some type of invisible-kombi from the high-on-drugs-and-seeing-things-that-don’t-exist fae world.

Turning her back to the vampire, she sighed loudly, a hand on her hip and another on her face. That’s when she heard the quiet call and immediately ran to Oroba’s side. That’s when she saw him. Or was it some drunk, homeless man? He smelled different. Past the dirt, the worn-out clothes and lack of his typical aftershave. Did he drink from someone on drugs? Why was he lying there?! Was he... dead? “... is it… him…?” After a couple of second of uncontrollable first-shock and strong fear, Francesca threw herself to the ground, kneeling and, as carefully as her disperair allowed her, rolled him over. Her hand delicately touched his face. “Carring? You’re fine. You’re fine, we got you,” she tried to sound as confident as possible, but without even noticing, Fran was already silently crying. For a second she looked back at Orobas, wanting to tell him thanks for not giving up on him, for finding the lead to him, for finding him, for getting to that point for him - but no words came out.

Orobas didn’t want to see her despair right now, and her tears-- ever delightful and distracting, almost had him letting them have their moment, but they were all cutting it close, and in the morning-- someone would likely call the police on their bodies. When she looked up at him as he stood there, Carrington starved, wearing clothes not atypical, and his general state in her arms, he grew impossibly mad. It was wildfire, and his gaze didn’t hide it. The frustration of it all almost consuming, because he didn’t know the why, and he wasn’t sure Carrington would even explain. He knew he probably wouldn’t-- if this situation was reversed. His fists curled inward, and Orobas had to calm down or he’d walk away from this. Haxian-- we found him. He felt his master close, not intruding on their hunt, nor helping, but was in their car waiting patiently to be sure they didn’t get caught in the sun. I’m coming. He crouched down, running the edges of his fingertips over Francesca's cheeks, and once more looked at Carrington.

“Come--” Haxian pulled up fast to the parking lot and the group sped off towards Bloodhaven.

#x: carrington #x: fran #x: losing balance

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bellarxse · 4 years

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Get to know: Cesca Joyce (TMOHB)

100 Questions (https://the-moon-dust-writings.tumblr.com/post/159843387908/100-oc-questions) to get to know Cesca Joyce, MC in The Motion of Heavenly Bodies

1. How do they present themselves to others? Soft femme – she has had the importance of femininity and her appearance drilled into her from an early age by her mother, but she has withdrawn from the idea of high-maintenance femininity as much as she feels she can

2. Do they like animals? Cats and marine life. She doesn’t like dogs.

3. How do they dress? Often as casual as she can manage, and often in something which hides her chest.

4. How many language do they know? Fluent in English and German. proficient in French. Likes to watch K-dramas with subs, so she can pick up on the odd phrase now.

5. How big is their family? Parents divorced. Two full siblings, two paternal half-siblings.

6. What is their purpose in the story? Uh..they’re the main character. Ha. No, Cesca’s “arc”, such as it is at this point, is going to be about the importance of recognising and pursuing your own desires rather than letting people tell you what you should want.

7. Do they know how to fight? The extent of her knowledge is basically that you should tuck your thumb into your fist if you throw a punch. That’s basically it.

8. What is their back story? Distant father (working in international finance), mother (thwarted model, pregnant too young and unable to cope) at home with children she never wanted in the first place. She wants them to be the successes she never was, to shine with radiance that blinds the world. Sarah, their first daughter, is genial and hard-working but painfully plain, and the youngest, Alice, is manipulative and cruel, and looks it. But sweet little Franze, with her angelic curls and innocent blue eyes? Yes, she will do nicely. But it isn’t long before she rebels. Skinned knees and grubby hands (“Mutti, look what I found!”), and a profound disinterest in how to make herself more beautiful. So Julia tries again, taking away her rocks and microscopes and replacing them with vanities and lotions and potions, until Franze is a dejected little doll – almost literally, listless and lifeless. A teacher at school flags up “Cesca’s” (Franze’s) behaviour as being a “concern”, and threatens to involve child protection services. But how could it possibly be a concern? This is what little girls are supposed to be like.

9. Why is their name their name? Conceived on holiday in France – and it’s generally considered an upper middle-class name in both countries

10.Do they have any nicknames? Francesca (anglicised), Franze (German diminutive), Cesca (English diminutive – her favourite), C (school friends)

11.Do they have a romantic interest? …I mean, yeah, that’s the point – but that would be telling. So instead, let’s talk about her only other long-term relationship, Julian, when they were both 17. A son of Father’s friend—and Father is friends with some of the best society has to offer, he’s told her himself—he is sure of himself and charismatic enough to make Cesca believe it as well. She thinks he loves her, though he only ever really loved chasing her, and she cries when he breaks up with her, not one week after they had had sex for the first time.

12.How do they cope with struggles? At work, depends on the struggle. She tries to judge carefully what the best course of action would be – either she’ll take some time away to let it simmer; or she’ll keep at it until she finds another way in. In her personal life, she avoids whatever she can get away with.

13.Do they have anyone they can lean on? More than she knows – she’s never tested it with anyone else other than Sarah. She isn’t always sure how her friends feel about her, not truly, especially after she is selected to go on the show without them.

14.How do they react to someone dying? Lot of numbness. She can seem insensitive or uncaring, but it takes a while for it to sink in.

15.Can you name 5 personality traits they have? Reserved, analytical, emotionally perceptive, avoidant, sensitive

16.How did they become a character? Because I was fed-up of the S3 MC being just different flavours of the same bold, confident person. I mean, it’s a CYOA game, there aren’t exactly many opportunities to feed in complex hopes/wants/fears, but even the S2 MC could choose to be “cool and mysterious” or “all out”.

17.Do they get along with others? She often chooses the path of least resistance – so often people think they get on with her better than they actually do, because she isn’t always honest with how she feels about things or people

18.What flaws do they have? Arrogant (mostly at work), naïve, perfectionist, practical, rigorous/over-zealous

19.How do they influence the story? A little too spoiler-y for now…

20.What do they look like? Honey blonde curls (usually pinned back), blue eyes, 5’ 3”. Quite pale, even after weeks in the Spanish sun – it would take a lot more time and effort for her to tan. Some freckles, but not many. Looks delicate at first blush, but is deceptively strong for her build. Bottom hourglass.

21.What are their hobbies? Collecting and listening to old vinyl records. Swimming and free diving.

22.What are their ticks? She blushes at the drop of a hat, and she bites her lip. She doesn’t intend it to come off as sexual or flirty (quite the opposite) but people don’t believe her.

23.Do they like children? If you ask her, she’ll laugh and tell you no, loudly. But Sarah has just had twin boys, and Cesca thinks that she might just die for them anyway, even if they don’t need her to.

24.How do they react to being around wild animals? Aquatic animals – loves it, very affectionate/serene (even when she went cage diving with sharks). Land animals? More of a mixed reaction, depending on how physically large/imposing they are.

25.If they were given the task to prank someone, who would it be, what would they do and would it work? She doesn’t so much prank people as plot to ruin their lives, particularly careers.

26.Do they have survival skills? Not really – her mother didn’t think it was necessary for girls, and she has thrown herself into science since.

27.Are they more book smart or street smart? More socially savvy than she gives herself credit for, but mostly book smart

28.How do they get out of a difficult situation? Depends on the situation. In a dangerous situation, she will call for help. In a socially awkward position, she’s like to use her looks to get out of the situation (e.g. sending someone off to get her a drink from the bar and then disappearing into the crowd). In a romantic situation, she’d use her intellect and talk through in excruciating detail why they’re not compatible.

29.Do they use their body, mind, personality or force to get what they want? See 28

30.What music do they enjoy? Older music, from the 1960s-1980s (90s at a push). She does like some more modern things, but usually if they’re either drawing inspiration from older trends or europop. Trashy Europop is a guilty pleasure of hers.

31.How do they overcome obstacles? Grit and determination, mostly.

32.When faced with a difficult decision do they get stronger or break? At work, stronger. Emotionally, she’s never fully broken down but she’s come close a few times.

33.Do they have any special powers? Just her brain.

34.How do they change throughout the story? She gets a little more assertive in articulating what she wants – but there will still be some room for growth

35.Do they have any friends? If so, are they close knit? Two close friends from school, who would do anything she asked of them (in terms of emotional support), but she is too scared to ask them. So their friendship appears more superficial than it actually is, in terms of what they do together

36.How is their family life? She only really sees her older sister. She avoids Alice (younger full-sister) like the plague and doesn’t make an effort to see her father’s new family. Will basically shut down if she has to see her mother. Christmas is not a happy time for her.

37.Are they likable? I certainly think so, but she’s my ambitious little alien baby so…

38.Are they the hero, or anti-hero? Depends on your viewpoint – certainly some of her “competitors” wouldn’t see her as the hero…!

39.Do they make questionable choices? I mean, we’ll see.

40.How do they become who they are? Through putting her head down and ploughing on. Ultimately running away from…

41.How was their childhood? …being made to feel like the only thing that mattered were her looks. Her mother tried to enter her for pageants and the like, and it was actually one of the terms of the divorce – her father wouldn’t give her mother any alimony if she made Cesca compete in anything like that.

42.Are they close with anyone who is going to screw them over? Again, we’ll see, don’t want to get into plot elements too much…!

43.How do they adapt to different situations? Do they adapt at all? She adapts because she has to, but she’s not particularly good at it.

44.How do they speak? (e.g. soft-spoken, hot-headed, vulgar) Usually soft-spoken, which makes a genuine laugh all the more startling.

45.Are they opposed to violence? There’s something about having been raised to be a good girl and knowing how people should behave in polite society which makes taboos like violence more exciting.

46.When is their birthday? 1st January 1997

47.Are they quick to judge? She tries not to, but she can make snap judgements based on appearances or actions that she finds hard to shake

48.Do they have anything they are trying to hide from others? How she doesn’t like being complimented on her looks, because they just wouldn’t understand.

49.Do they act different around different people? She is much more confident around her work colleagues, because she feels like she can show off her processes, rather than dumb herself down for people. She is very reserved around people she doesn’t know well and most of her family.

50.Do they enjoy the arts? Not a huge fan of reading, unless it’s science-related. Loves music, especially on vinyl. Likes films, usually action/thriller/horror.

51.Do they like science? Loves it. There’s a kind of beauty about it, about how it lets her order the world, and how she can see the world reflected in her microscope.

52.Are they more emotional or logical? I mean I don’t agree with the premise of the question, because it’s a false dichotomy, but she would say she’s more logical. Make of that what you will.

53.How do they deal with their emotions? Distraction tactics. Which means that there’s some stuff that she’s just…never dealt with. Massive issues with her mother.

54.How do they cope with sadness? She’s almost constantly sad, and she’s never really let the weight lift from her shoulders. It doesn’t bother her personally – it only really bothers people that care about her.

55.What is something they care about? She cares about the environment – she tries to be as sustainable as her budget allows, and she’s almost fanatical about saving water. (So she’s clean but she showers only as often as she needs to)

56.Would they die for anyone/anything? Probably her nephews.

57.What do they do when they are happy? Being happy looks very like being sad – she behaves much the same way, but she might fidget less or smile slightly.

58.How would they come across to other characters? E.g. messy, lazy, caring, childish Calm, shy (especially in the context of Love Island, since she doesn’t cope well with being flirted with overtly), clinical

59.Do they have a phrase they use over and over? No? Not yet, anyway

60.In a crowded room are they in the corners, sides or middle? She would gravitate to the sides, so that she can see everyone more clearly. If she’s with friends she trusts (and particularly if she’s had some alcohol) she’s not averse to being in the middle of the room, but it’s not her first option.

61.Are they comfortable being in a crowded room? She can find it overwhelming.

62.How do they relax? Listen to records, watch TV. She usually needs to relax by herself and “de-person” for a bit.

63.Have they ever harmed anyone and regretted it? Verbally or physically? She is usually the one to break off any budding relationships, usually before they become sexual. So for some of these early relationships, they were hurt because they thought she was really into them, but they were usually at an early enough stage that it was fairly minor emotional pain.

64.Do they like to dance? Not unless she’s drunk some alcohol. She doesn’t feel like her body moves very naturally, she needs her inhibitions to be much reduced before she even considers it.

65.How do they get around their environment? (vehicle use) She cycles a lot. She learned to drive when she was 17, but she’s a nervous driver and she doesn’t like it.

66.What about pet peeves? Loud chewers. It’s a sensory thing, she really doesn’t like it. Linked to this – people who talk with their mouths full constantly (she’ll allow it if you’re surprised or if you didn’t expect to be asked a question but if it’s your default? Get in the bin)

67.Do they have a disability? No.

68.How do they react to getting flowers? It depends on the person – if they’re someone who she would like to receive flowers from, it can make her month. If it’s from someone she wasn’t expecting, she can be a bit unsure of how to react – are they are thank you? Are they a proposition? She really doesn’t like receiving flowers from a “secret admirer” or something like that.

69.Would they ever wear a flower crown? Not usually, maybe for something like a wedding? And definitely not if she’s the only one.

70.Do they like themselves? Sometimes. She likes herself when she’s at work and successful. She usually likes herself when she spends time with friends. If she’s left on her own for too long she can start to doubt herself.

71.Who do they dislike? People who aren’t genuine/honest. People who focus on their appearance too much.

72.What is their motto? When she read “If I look back, I am lost.” in the first ASOIAF novel, she had to take a few minutes.

73.Do they have any markings on their body? A few minor scratches from falling off her bike a couple of times. Some freckles, more on her arms than her face.

74.Have they ever been abused? Physically, not at all. Emotionally? Most of her interactions with her mother and her sister are hostile in some way or another, and her father’s attitude can best be described as neglectful.

75.What is their biggest fear? Not to get too body horror about this, but her recurring nightmare is that she makes someone (and the person changes depending on what’s happening in her life) and they push/hit her and she’s hollow, or she smashes to the ground like porcelain.

76.What are their goals? She wants to finish her research into biodegradable plastic, and ideally start a second study to see if the same desired results can be achieved with fewer/cheaper resources.

77.How do they go about achieving their goals? She keeps her head down and ploughs on.

78.Do they have a fight or flight response? Yes, but she almost exclusively chooses to flee.

79.Is there someone in their life that they care about more than themselves? Her sister and her nephews. I don’t necessarily think that her having fewer people she cares about more than herself indicates that she’s selfish or overly arrogant. It’s just that her feelings are a little more subdued, so she doesn’t necessarily think about most people in that way.

80.How would they fare in a zombie apocalypse? Pretty badly, probably – unless she was in an area that hadn’t been affected yet, and she was able to work on a cure/”silver bullet”.

81.Do they have any tattoos? If so, are they significant? No, but she’s not averse to getting them. But if she gets one, she wants it to be significant, and she doesn’t want it to be linked to something that she might regret (like a relationship)

82.Are they good at mental math? Frighteningly so.

83.Do they get along with others? Again, she often takes the path of least resistance, so she seems to get along with lots of people, but she can get quite resentful.

84.Are they lazy? No

85.Are they self-motivated? Yes

86.How do they cope with anger? Short answer, she doesn’t. She was told from an early age that girls don’t get angry, and that means she struggles now to pinpoint when she is feeling angry. She often experiences other symptoms, like headaches or nausea, which she will treat instead of expressing herself.

87.Have they ever been in a situation where they were helpless? Physically, no – she’s been lucky. Emotionally – she felt helpless for a lot of her childhood, and then worries now about letting someone else make her feel helpless again.

88.Are they organized or messy? Pathologically organised – think Monica from Friends.

89.Can they remember a lot of information at once? In the right context, yes. At work, she’s like a machine, remembering formulae and compounds. In her personal life, she often gets overloaded. But she picks up on a lot, and it’s a sign that she likes you if she notices or remembers little details about you.

90.What is their occupation? Environmental scientist (specialising in chemistry, but her degree is in biochemistry).

91.Do other characters respect them? Yes, I think so. Especially at work, she’s seen as one of the key members of the team. In her personal life, it depends – she chooses friends carefully, and her friends respect her. Her father and siblings (aside from Alice) respect her more than she’s willing to notice. Her mother doesn’t, and Alice (younger full sister) loathes her.

92.If they were given minutes to live, what would they do? Who would they want to see and say? She would want to spend time with her sister. She wouldn’t want to talk about her feelings, but she would be more physically affectionate.

93.How do they deal with stress? Burying herself in work. Also, free diving is a good stress-reliever for her, because it requires so much of her concentration that she cannot afford to think about what is stressing her out.

94.Do they have a more submissive or dominant personality type? Depends – very dominant at work, less so among family and friends. I’ll cover NSFW stuff in a different post, but the short answer is, “it’s complicated”

95.Do they have a pet? No – she would like a cat, but she feels bad about leaving it in a London flat all day.

96.Do they have a stash of weapons? …no?

97.Where do they live? Who do they live with? She used to live in Putney with Ellie and Tina; now she lives alone in a small one-bedroom flat in Westminster that’s really meant for students.

98.How do they calm themselves down? Listening to music, staring at a wall. I’m a little worried that I’m making her sound crazy, but she can feel the tension leak out of her, and she can move on, at least in the short term.

99.Are they co-dependent? She makes an effort not to be – she is so affection- and touch-starved, though, that she is in danger of seeing another person as a source of self-worth.

100. Are they a day or night person? Day person – she wakes up very early (probably at about 5am), even when she doesn’t need to, and so she struggles with late nights. She isn’t usually smug about being an early bird, but she will let herself be a little more overt if there’s a particularly annoying Morgenmuffel…!

#cesca #litg fanfic: tmohb #tmohb headcanons #tmohb cesca #i Don't Like doing moodboard but skyler samuels is too pretty not to #i might revisit the moodboard at some point to make it prettier #maybe fix the colours or sth idk

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hopelesswxnderers · 4 years

Text

@livs-muses - Marcos + Francesca

Since finishing university two years ago, Francesca had been working at a Haven holiday park in Lincolnshire. She’d lived there on site, having to share one of their small caravans with a friend, so moving into Marcos’ huge house a few days ago was something she’d have to get used to. Cesca had found herself relaxing in the hug garden with a glass of Pimms. “This is the life,” she giggled, enjoying the space to sunbathe. “Come and sit with me, brother. You need to update me with everything I missed.” Though she’d been away for five years, they’d always kept in touch, but it wasn’t the same as speaking in person.

#francesca | with marcos #livs-muses #muse | francesca

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a-h-moss · 4 years

Text

It was six.

You are okay?

I looked up.

I see you fall. You are okay?

Yes. No. I don’t know.

I can…I help you?

Help me up?

Yes. Okay.

She offered her hand, which I took, and pulled myself up.

Thank you.

I reached around my ankle, rubbed a little while balancing on my other leg. She extended her arm. I steadied myself with it. There was no-one else around, as if the city had stopped.

Are you…-?

Yes, yes, thank you…thank you.

I stood straighter. My ankle tingled.

You leg is okay?

Yes, I only…

Ah, you…how you say?

Twist, you only twist it.

Just a…yes twist, or something. It happens.

Thank you.

Her face spread with a kind smile.

Well, I go. I hope you okay.

I hope the pain not last.

Goodbye, ciao!

She ended the exchange brusquely, but friendly. There was a pause. She walked backwards with the little smile that told a tale, then turned and hurried away. I was in no such rush. Her dress went round the corner, and with it, did she.

I continued on. The streets here take you in and lose you. In a moment, sure I knew where I was, I found I’d doubled back. I would become more familiar. After longer, I found my place, I found the beach, and saw the darkened version of the view I’d seen earlier in the day from high places, from high hills, saw the black sea and the browned sky. It was clear.

I sat on the sand. The waves lapped the shoreline, people were strolling along barefoot, couples and groups sipping beers and joking or chatting while enjoying the atmosphere, calmed by the drawing of the day.

A thought about the girl I’d met. I imagined, momentarily, I thought of also the other things, the hill that had felt real and now an only memory. Things become memories fast. In difficult moments, in good ones, in sorrowed ones, I have this considered: it will be an experience soon enough, and then just a passing memory. I have handled many things in this way.

The sky darkened further and expanded with clouds. It was colder now. I could have fallen asleep right there on the sand, the cool air breezing over the tide. It took over me but I thought better. The yellow lights coasted the beach. With some dragging energy I pulled myself upright and made for the bars and restaurants which lined the main street.

As I arrived home, as the day was closing, I felt it ending, or I felt I was ready to end it. I slept.

The sun came in yellow yawns, I felt tired up and my eyelids wrestled with the early. I shook slow my head into the pillow, sheets half-fallen, blinds full-drawn with seeping stripes of light giving through the slots. I had many things to do.

DOS

You get what you get, or you take what you get, and what you get is what you look for. I hadn’t come across any work, nor was I looking for any. There was no rush yet. Three weeks here.

My routine is simple. I have always lived simply, living if living is how I have moved about. I get up quickly. I do not make the bed as my bed is just a sheet on a mattress, in that it is all I need. I open the small balcony doors. They are wooden, dark brown with worn corners and a few struts broken from the support and the paintwork flaking away. I go downstairs and take a black coffee in the bar. Cesca serves me. She enjoys speaking English with me as she admits she does not have level and she wants to take advantage before I leave, whenever I leave.

It is a long walk into the city. I do not take the Metro as I still have so much time. The same walk every day, I know the shops on corners, sometimes say hola to owners waiting outside, a tall building, a hotel, a small park, then into a main square. This is tourist town, people with phones and cameras taking photos of transitory moments they will look at half a dozen more times.

This day I went down Paral·lel, cut in a side street with bushes on the corners, the smell of deep city, the constant cries of vibrance and unalloyed energy.

I saw her. I was certain it was her, at least. Across Plaça del Pedró. If it was her she was far over the other side. She moved through the crowds. I considered chasing over and moved to make for it and…but it was too far and I thought better of it. She might not have remembered me either way and instead I took down a side street. I regretted it immediately but…well, Barcelona is smaller than I thought.

As it was, a few days I came across her again. She was dressed in black on the step to a terrace with her hand over her brow and her thumb massaging her temple. She looked forlorn, eyes despondent playing with her thoughts.

Hey! Hey, are you okay?

Oh! Hola, you!

She forced a smile.

What’s wrong?

Ah, I lose my bag.

What? Where?

I don’t know, lose it or someone take it.

Can we look for it?

No, no, is okay. Is okay.

Is nothing.

Ah, joder!

But we can look?

No, I already be to the places I have it.

Is gone.

I have to let it go.

Some things go.

�� Come, let’s get a coffee.

Thank you, yes.

We walked off and entered the first bar we found, just round the corner of the square, a small and unassuming local with flimsy steel chairs and tables and a kind of lowness, of sound and feeling, but curious. W ordered coffee and took seats.

How do you feel?

Better, thank you.

Give me a minute.

She scratched her forehead. She was affected and downcast, as if she’d felt a day’s weariness.

I know that feeling, of losing something important.

It hurts, but it’ll pass.

Yes, yes, I know.

Ah I so stupid,

how I leave it somewhere?

I only go two places!

Did you have anything important?

Normal things,

is not the contents so much,

but the bag, the bag itself.

The bag? Was it a gift?

No, it, well, it was one I make.

One of the first.

You made it?

Ye-es.

You make bags? And sell them?

Yes, is what I do.

Anything really, I make things.

Bags and clothes and things.

Wow, well. And how is that?

Good.

You enjoy it?

Of course.

Why?

It have always make me feel good.

Ah. And why?

Because I like…express myself.

Is important to express something of yourself.

Hm.

And it de-stresses me, release…pression?

Pressure.

Pressure, right.

So you keep doing it. Right?

You ask a lot of questions.

Excuse me.

No, is alright really.

I took down a taste of coffee.

Mm. I like coffee here.

Yes, me too.

I like Italian more but is good.

She sipped hers.

You live here?

No, well, yes, I guess. I just moved here.

When you saw me three weeks ago I had at least.

For what?

I wasn’t sure to answer.

Excuse me,

if you do not want to talk.

No it’s…it’s fine.

I, I just came here, that’s all.

She looked abashed.

I am sorry, if I should not ask.

No, no, it’s just I’m not sure myself.

I’m here and that is all I know so far.

You just, what, arrive here?

Pretty much.

No plan?

No plan.

No nothing?

Nope.

Why?

It’s what I do. It’s my nature, I suppose.

So you move?

I do.

Often?

A few times before. And I am still alive.

It always works out or I handle it.

I do it when I need to, I think.

And when you need to?

When I need to change.

Change?

Change. When it is all said and done.

And so you need a change

and come here.

Yes.

I needed a change and the only way was to change myself.

So you change.

I hope you know who you are.

I think so.

Yes?

Well, you are who you are, but only to you.

And who are you?

I don’t know. Doesn’t matter, anyway.

It’s only to you, to everyone else, you are who they think you are.

I understand.

We went quiet. I glanced at her. I glanced at him.

I looked at her. I saw him look at me.

I looked away.

Oh! My friend, I have to meet

my friend at eleven. What time is?

It’s twenty past ten.

Yes, I must go.

She got up.

Mm-. Tell me.

Yes?

Can we…can we meet again?

Can we meet again, Wednesday?

I would like that.

Good. I want to know more

about you.

Me too.

I smiled at her. He smiled.

Wednesday then.

Wednesday.

I go to a thing of one friend,

we can together?

Sure.

There is a place, Rambla del Raval.

Meet me top of there at nine.

And if I can’t make it?

If I don’t come?

Well we probably won’t see

each other again.

No? Never?

Never.

Don’t you have a phone?

No.

Really?

No not really. You are easy to joke.

So you do?

Hah, well, I just lose it to be honest.

And this is funner anyway.

Okay. Then that’s it.

That’s it.

Thanks, for the coffee.

I nodded a little, wryed my smile, squinted. We didn’t exchange any details. She rushed away. I stayed for a while, in my chair. I considered these ten minutes with her. That’s all it was. She seemed relaxed, I felt comfortable sitting and chatting to her. She became real in my head, an image my mind could adumbrate clearly, her every outline, and yet a month ago I didn't even know she was. That’s how it is with new people.

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cesca-untoldstories · 2 years

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How did Cesca react during the high priestess arc when they tried to flirt with Midler (and did she also flirt with the high priestess)

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀 OoOOOH You got my attention, like I always wanted to write a huge fanfic to describe how would 'Cesca fit in all this crusaders adventures! but that means I have to watch SDC again hahah I promise to write them but I can't promise when hah but continue with the ask!

🌸High priestess arc

When Polnareff again introduces abdul to the group mentioning that he had never died and faked his death so that he could make all the purchase of the submarine out of the gaze of the DIO's minions. Nobody seems surprised, everyone knew that except Polnareff, that includes Francesca who was the one who saved Abdul by containing his blood unconditionally at the time of the shooting and that Joseph strongly asked her to appear sad for his "death" because everyone knows that Polnareff is a man weak to keep secrets haha

(more under the cut!)

In the submarine and passing through the Red Sea, Francesca is surprised by the submarine since she has never been in one. and what gives her reasons to be curious and take the time to ask where they are specifically. as High Priestess can fuse metal and rocks they end up being attacked by it and forces them to get out of the submarine with scuba gear. Francesca still does not control her Stand well for those moments, in fact all stardust is her trying to control Domino Dancing from doing things but it turns out in a totally opposite way.

When the submarine begins to flood, Francesca tries to stop the entry of liquid by making an armor inside the same submarine with the water that enters, but the pressure is so big that they need to leave and she leaves expelled by the pressure of the water being supported by Jotaro who tells her not to be silly at crucial moments like that, Francesca only looks at him angrily but the time that she created the blocking barrier was enough for the crusaders to be able to put on their equipment and get out of that submarine which is imprisoned at the bottom.

High Priestess knows that it is men who are trying to escape but at no time did she know that there was a woman among them which makes her furious by breaking her snorkel gear so that she drowns. Domino Dancing comes into play demonstrating that its power to transform matter from liquid to solid, or liquid to gas, is also demonstrated by the attraction and repulsion of liquids in Francesca, which makes her form a capsule in her mouth that repels all signs. of liquid and function as a snorkel.

That's when they are trapped inside a great giant face, and the infallible technique of the crusaders try to flirt with her so that she gives in and slowly falls into flirtation.

"You know, I bet you are quite a beautiful woman... your voice captivates my ears, I would love to meet you to teach me how to be more flirtatious, can I call you big sister?"

At one point, Joseph would have stopped Francesca from speaking but Francesca would start saying nice enough things to that voice. she teaching him that a man does not know how to flirt as much as a woman can with another woman.

but we all know how that episode ends. what I would like but I am still doubtful whether to accept it as canon or not is that Jotaro after that fight asks Francesca how she did that with Domino Dancing of attraction and repulsion. Francesca simply sees a little shell washed up on the seashore and takes it, showing that the moisture that she had was immediately removed from the shell and hands it to him smiling and telling him that she really doesn't know how she does it but would like to know more at the respect. 💝

#canon story #jojo oc #jjba oc #jojo's bizarre adventure oc #francesca castiglier #stardust crusaders #jotaro kujo #noriaki kakyoin #joseph joestar #jean pierre polnareff #mohammed abdul

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stingray-sins · 3 years

Text

[ Part I here ]

Somewhere only we know... tw: teens been teens

Part II

The Girls were huddled together leaning on top of each other so they could admire the school gymnasium. It wasn't just any day in March, it was the first week of March and the cherry trees were blooming this late spring. The reason was key: The graduation ceremony for the high school teens.

─"Come on ‘Cesca, walk faster we are going to lose the front row!" ─She shook the purple-haired girl to join the crowd of girls who waited with a respective bouquet of flowers to those of higher levels.

─"I don't understand what is special about a graduation, they come and go, how much emotion to see them leave? I would be grateful to leave once and for all" ─Francesca maintained, taking clumsy steps as she tried to walk faster─ "Besides, why are you making me carry these flowers?"

The taller girl stopped short right infront of Francesca to get closer to her face as she covered her mouth in a whisper symbol.

─"The bouquet of flowers has a symbol of gratitude to our superior classmates who have given us support and security during our stay at school..." ─she glanced sideways as adults passed by, probably in as part of a faculty student tutor and then returned to her flirty habitual attitude more mischievous. ─"The bouquet of flowers is an excuse to approach the boy you like and ask him for his Daini button 'Cesca… How long have you been here now?"

─"A year and a half? Wait, his Da- what?"

─"More than enough," ─the girl laughed as she pushed a curious purple-haired girl into the central courtyard. Inside the Gymnasium there was a precise number of parents talking with their children and guests, some were taking photos and others were arranging the last moments of the uniform on that student who was about to leave, but among all the crowds some familiar faces stood out. Holly held a camera in her hands while she begged her husband for one more photo with their "little boy" who did nothing but ignore her, The youngest of the group was stunned by the great tumult of people gathered that special day, but he returned to lose his attention when he felt his mother's camera flash on him.

The red-haired boy lay seated, he did not have a school uniform as usual but a more loose clothing that would help him not feel so uncomfortable in that wheelchair.

─"You know Jotaro, all these events always seemed like a waste of time to me from an early age..."

─"I could say the same" ─he said in a tired voice and somewhat mentally ashamed by the loud pleas of his mother in the background.

─"But I can't help but feel excited about this day" ─He looked up to meet the taller boy's blue-ish eyes. ─"You know, it would have been an honor to have graduated this year with you." ─The black-haired man placed his hand on Noriaki's left shoulder, patting it gently in agreemen─ "…And rest assured that next year the feeling will be the other way around."

Kakyoin was a bit surprised to hear Jotaro's words for a moment but seeing him smile subtly elicited a response with the same smile, they knew everything they had been through and it was not minor. What he appreciated the most was being able to be enjoying that moment, that second chance. Behind them were heard quite loud screams of girls holding flowers for the tallest, this time the discussion was who had the largest and most colorful bouquet of flowers that was worthy for that man. Holly was delighted with so many girls in the place, she without a doubt knew that her son was one of those who always shone wherever he was but witnessing it was quite fun for both parents and especially for the little one who went through the same steps.

─"I see we have company" ─Kakyoin laughed without turning his chair at all without waiting for a response from Jotaro other than a big heavy sigh expressing all his discontent with the voices of the girls─ "Speaking of Girls… Do you know anything about ‘Cesca? I thought she would be with us this day."

─"I haven't seen her since the morning, first thing in the morning I heard the bell and I immediately ruled out the possibility of another guest upon hearing those high-pitched voices asking about 'Cesca and dragging her to school leaving her breakfast half eaten in furniture at the entrance of the house."

─"After all, she adapted quite well to a culture totally unknown to her" ─Kakyoin smiled, seeing Francesca in the distance being dragged to the gym.

─"I suppose so" ─the black-haired man stopped his answer as he observed the same thing as his red-haired companion, it made him a bit of noise to see her holding a bouquet of flowers while arguing with her level friend, it was not that it bothered him that she was participating in the graduation if not that he knew exactly that the girls of her age by holding a bouquet of flowers fully meant a reason to get close to who he liked but his question was, was that really the reason? A strange start in his chest brought him back to earth.

─"Highly strung?" ─Noriaki returned a satisfactory smile as he focused on the dislocated face of his partner, he knew from first source that he was a boy focused on his thoughts and it was not easy to get any expression or direct emotion out of him but there were acts that fully indicated what his mind was going through and this time it was the dilation of her pupils when she saw that bouquet of flowers on the girl's arm.

─"Not at all" ─Jotaro growled, returning his hands to his pockets as he adopted a more rude posture. ─"Let's go for her if you want."

He instinctively placed both hands on his friend's chair, gently pushing the chair, like never before. Fast memories flashed through his head of how recovery had been for the red-haired boy, she still felt guilty about not being there at the right time and once again felt the weight of the world on his shoulders.

─"Noriaki!" ─Francesca shouted excitedly as she quickly approached the boys while still holding the bouquet of flowers. ─"I thought you weren't coming today..."

─"And here I am"─he gave a sincere smile as he looked up. ─"I was impressed that you participated in the flower delivery this year, from what I see you have someone in your sights, huh?"

─"In sight?" ─Francesca raised her eyes in curiosity and then directed her to the flowers and let out a laugh─ "I really don't understand very well about delivering flowers, I'm just accompanying..."

At that precise moment the companion of the purple-haired girl came out from behind her, she had bright eyes and clung the flowers to her chest more. Without a doubt, she did not expect to be face to face with the black-haired boy and despite having a disinterested attitude she still brought I get his second uniform button. she bowed slightly to Jotaro handing over the flowers as a symbol of offering while she closed her eyes asking for his second button.

─"My second button?" ─Jotaro asked as he looked down to see the girl leaning towards him. ─"I have not the slightest interest in that silly tradition, save the flowers, they can serve you for another boy yet."

While in the distance an army of girls was heard surrounding both of them between shouts and threats of who had the most perfect bouquet of flowers. Francesca was leaning on Kakyoin's chair still with the flowers in her hand.

─"What's that "second button" Kakyoin?"

─"I thought they had explained to you since you carried the flowers for the tradition, 'Cesca" ─Noriaki laughed as he turned the wheelchair a little to be able to look at her in a better way when talking ─"Daini button is a very old tradition in Japan, it turns out that it happens in every high school graduation ceremony in which a boy presents his second uniform button to the girl in the form of a confession of love and admiration. It is said that its origin dates back to the ancient military who gave that button to their partner and / or lover as a symbol of pure and lasting love, and it should be the second position that in this way their uniform would not open and it would not look messy when serve... Although I like the story more that the second button is awarded because it is the one that is closest to the boy's heart, both stories have the same meaning at the end of the day."

─"I must confess that I adore the traditions of this culture, it suits me quite well despite not being fully aware of it" ─Francesca laughed in the same way as she looked again at the bouquet of flowers in her arms. She didn't even know what she was holding that bouquet of flowers for, in a year and a half she didn't know anyone enough to offer it in exchange for a button.

From the group of people a group of boys appeared, the one who was leading without a doubt attracted attention. His combed hair and his perfectly fitted uniform with a cloth faithfully tied to his right arm only hinted at being from the school board. He locked eyes with the lower one, smirked as he placed his left hand on her chest to remove the second button from him and place it in the girl's hands.

─"I was looking for you, my dear Kohai" ─he stared into her eyes while she did not know how to react to such a random event, the boy was quite popular with many people and that he chose Francesca among many others was only to raise his status with a foreigner─ "When the day is over I would like to exchange a few words with you."

That said, he removed a couple of flowers from the purple-haired bouquet and cut them to make a nice ornament in her hair, leaving the place with the utmost delicacy of a school president. Francesca didn't understand a single thing that just passed but it was evident that her face was taking on stronger shades of red. Kakyoin had been left blank with that event but he didn't care about that at all, beyond the boy and the reaction of 'Cesca about it, he was looking at the reaction of his friend. He was still surrounded by girls but his attention went directly to them, again the same look with his dilated pupils this time clenching his fists marking his knuckles tightly.

─"Do you know that boy ‘Cesca?" ─Asked Noriaki without taking his eyes off his friend subtly.

─"Know him? The truth…" ─she didn't know how to explain it, it was something so surprising that she couldn't even think the words right─ "He was in charge of teaching me school my first days here, don't misinterpret me, Daisuke is a very kind and attentive boy and from the On the first day he mentioned that he could call him Senpai" ─ she took a brief silence when he saw that the black-haired man was walking briskly towards them─ "you know, Jotaro never waited for me in the mornings to walk to class and many times I ended up getting lost in dead ends... Daisuke... He offered to help me but I never expected it to end this way."

─"I understand" ─Kakyoin sighed as he tried to lighten the heavy atmosphere that had remained, and that was going to remain for the rest of the day. ─"Jotaro, I suppose the students should enter... the sooner the better, right?"─But Jotaro did not take Noriaki's words into account, he knew perfectly what he was trying to do but he couldn't get the other out of his gaze, pointing to 'Cesca, specifically the flowers in her hair, in a very rude way he released some weighty words.

─"Take that off, you look... ridiculous." ─His gaze defied the crystalline gaze of the girl who was not going to give her arm to twist so easily.

─Come and take them from me, coward" ─she said that as she turned around entering the establishment, the red-haired boy sighed while the taller one returned to put his hands in both pockets.

─"It can always be always worse"

The ceremony had been quite emotional for many, boring for others but it had concluded in the best way, each student had in mind what awaited them in their future, The families would meet again and go home as it should be to have a small celebration with their recent graduate and after that they were finally free for the day, or the night as the sun was setting. The trio was sitting on the same bench as always looking at the stream that did not offer much. Noriaki for his part did not leave his chair and gave him the facility to get closer to the limit of the paved street and the stream, Francesca lay sitting with a half-drunk beer while admiring the button that had been given to her in the afternoon and Jotaro did not even He'd had his beer, he was just sitting staring at the creek meditating the whole fucking day.

─"What are you planning to do now Jojo?" ─The purple-haired girl took him out of her thoughts again, who left the button next to her to sit comfortably leaning on her legs. ─ "Are you planning to stay studying here or leave?"

─"Leaving sounds more ideal with what I intend to study" ─he blurted out softly without looking at her, he felt strange, all that day he had felt strange and he didn't know what was the reason for his stomach ache. He had defied more intimidating people, received deep wounds and now he could not be reassured only by an unfamiliar anxiety.

─"It's nice to hear you decided with your ideal… I still don't know what I intend to do in the near future" ─she looked at him for a good moment while she smiled warmly─ "but at the same time I must be frank with you; It will be sad not to see you at home anymore..."

Jotaro looked down with an air of surprise, Francesca inspired a serenity in her words as well as sincerity. He was so confused mentally that he couldn't find words to answer, perhaps it was true after all that that day he had been uncomfortable seeing her differently, and perhaps he had been holding back the feeling for too long.

─"I suppose" ─he blurted into the air to direct his gaze but he felt that he was slipping more and more to have her close to him, he felt awkward for the first time in his life, dazed and excited but there was no objection from them both.

Offering his left hand to the smaller one took it gently and that was what powered him to get closer to her and end the action with a kiss, subtle and without much experience. After a few seconds they separated without having anything to say, it was something totally out of the ordinary. Jotaro looked away indecisively as Francesca placed her free hand covering her lips.

─" was thinking..." ─Noriaki mentioned aloud as he turned his chair to look at them but meeting that surprising kiss made him turn to the stream once more, he covered his mouth with his right hand while letting out a subtle laugh─ "it was about time... I just have to do you the last favor" ─he said to himself as Hierophant Green made his appearance like tentacles crawling on the ground to take that button that Francesca had left aside on the seat and bring it to him─ "I'm sorry my dear bud, but it's not you, it's them."

That said, he threw the button that shone with the contrast of the light to the stream to observe how it went with the stream, he was not going to leave at all but he was going to grant that quality time to his friends. Something obvious a long time ago but he was going to have all the patience to wait just as they had with him in the hospital.

The kisses were concealed but continuous, each parting to regain air was a silly smile from the pair to make awkward movements such as combing the other's hair, fixing the uniform, brushing the index finger over his heated opposite cheek. Jotaro took her small hands to open them and deposit the second button of his uniform in those.

─"I thought you found the tradition silly" ─Francesca celebrated as she squeezed her hand, holding it gently to her breast.

─"And I keep thinking about it, but I know you like it that way." ─He smiled serenely, still sitting on that bench, that anxiety and stomach pain had disappeared, he could feel full and reciprocated. Francesca for the part of her couldn't stop smiling. It was something totally new for both of them, a feeling of happiness after a haunting nightmare.

─"Can I speak to you again? Or should I still pretend that I haven't seen anything?" ─ Kakyoin raised his voice and made them both start and separate taking their respective drinks while looking at different parts of the landscape. As he approached the most exalted was the purple-haired one who, taking both beers, announced that he would go to deposit them in the nearest garbage can, clearly hiding her embarrassed face.

Standing close to his partner and friend he let out a couple of laughs as he only hid his face under his hat, he watched the girl from a distance and it was he who this time placed a hand on the left shoulder of his embarrassed but happy friend.

─"I see it wasn't a bad day after all, you lost that tired look in your eyes and you even lost your second button. It is impressive how a mere impulse can change a person's mood but my question is Jojo: "

What do you expect from this now?

The question bounced in every corner of his thoughts that night, was he happy? Was he blissful? worried? Was he... scared? He got up from his bed taking a deep breath to rub his right hand over his face. He did not expect his impulse to be reciprocated, he was expecting a possible rejection and now it was accelerated, there was no co-relationship between his mind and his heart in those moments and it was what overwhelmed him. Placing both feet off his bed she looked around him, his room lying completely dark and only a beam of light reflected a couple of magazines on his study table. More than magazines, college brochures.

He got up slowly to go to the kitchen, late at night the only thing he could hear was his footsteps on that cold old wood that he had for a floor that squeaked step by step. Opening the refrigerator door he looked for something to drink while he leaned on the kitchen counter looking at the liquid that was inside the container.

─" Did your insomnia return?" ─He raised his head while Francesca walked to the kitchen anyway, her attitude was more relaxed than usual and she sounded even more calm and pleasant than other times─ "do you mind if I accompany you?"

He nodded as she positioned herself close to him leaning on a large counter, neither of them said a word and a little discomfort was noted in the position that the black-haired man had, his breathing was more agitated and she could predict it with the liquid inside the container.

─"Did you regret what happened this afternoon?" ─She sighed without looking at him, she had both arms crossed and her gaze was still focused on the kitchen window. ─"You don't need to worry about that Jojo, it's understandable that it was a mere impulse of the moment and..."

─"I'm not" ─he mentioned abruptly as he left the semi-empty container on the counter and took the girl's hand again abruptly to have her face to face, without saying more, they both found their faces again while a more intense kiss took hold of them. the situation, something more heated when brushing their bodies and emitting subtle moans when pressing each other. A carnal desire awoke them both together with the pleasure of rubbing themselves, feeling a distinctly new experience... When he separated for a moment from the girl, she lay sitting on the counter with both legs open and breathing agitatedly, for her part she could not say much since she was the same and even uncomfortable with those pajama pants that imprisoned him. As he approached again, the question returned to his mind

"What do you expect from this now?" and opening his eyes surprisingly, a ghostly hand took Francesca away, who did not fall to the ground just by clinging to said hand. Doubts returned to his head, but he in turn wanted to enjoy the moment that his heart desired, why not allow himself to be happy one night without worrying about tomorrow?

─"What was that?" ─Francesca got up while trying to regulate her breathing and fixed her pajamas─ "What's going on in your head?" ─Leaning on the counter, he looked at the kitchen floor in shock, still trying to catch the air─ "You don't need to hide your thoughts with me, I just want you to be honest with me."

─"Shut up!" ─he screamed and Francesca opened her eyes wide and then closed her mouth slowly but not completely, no words came from her but she couldn't stop looking into her eyes while she was against the light─ "Sincerity ? Sincerity is that this would not work, not for months or for the rest of the duration of this feeling, you understand?" ─His words were increasingly harsh and his voice was breaking more and more─ "In a couple of days I will go away, you will still be here... our destinies do not cross at any time and even if it were the case, there is no full possibility that this it works so... let's forget this, you have a great future ahead of you rather than waiting for one that will never come."

She had taken the words out of the girl's mouth, without a doubt words sometimes hurt more than a simple kick and this moment indicated it as such. She followed him with her gaze, watching his large back disappear into the darkness, the fact that he had faced the issue did not hurt so much, but it hurt her to understand it and know that it was not really going to work as he thought at one point when he was on that bench.

─"I would have preferred the excuse of your virginity a thousand times, Jojo" ─she tried to take it with humor while hiding the pain in her eyes, she walked towards the dark corridor pressing her hand on her chest, releasing her last words with a hopeless and surrendered voice-─ "but I totally understand your decision... I just want to know one last question, was the feeling reciprocated?"

Jotaro was sitting on the floor of his room, he was looking at the ceiling as if it were giving him the answers he needed at that moment but he did not say anything and he could feel the silence of the girl once more that she finished him off. break.

"Good night, Jojo and have a good trip."

he hid her head once more in his arms without abandoning the position that held his stomach, the moonlight this time shining on him and she knew that at least that night he would not touch his bed. He didn't want to sleep, didn't want to close his eyes; everything was a torment in his head but he only let out a sentence in all that remained of the night.

─"If it was reciprocated and I waited for it... more than a year ago"

[To be continue...->)

#Writing.🐠#Jojo's bizarre adventure oc #jjba oc #jojo oc #Francesca Castiglier #Jotaro Kujo #PlasticBeach.🐠

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chiseler · 5 years

Text

W.R. BURNETT

William Riley Burnett isn't quite as well known as other crime writers like Hammett and Chandler, but the titles of several W. R. Burnett novels and films everybody knows. His career and his influence stretched from gangster novels and movies, which he went a long way to defining, through noir to blaxploitation and beyond.

According to Burnett, a good place to begin his story is in a fleabag in Chicago, when he was a twenty-seven-year-old hayseed from Ohio who in six years had written some one hundred stories and five novels, not one of them published. On his first night in the big city, sleeping in that cheap hotel, he was jolted out of bed by a series of explosions across the street. Rival gangsters had been arguing over the rake in the parking garage across the street. Things got heated and they started throwing hand grenades -- "pineapples," folks called them then. That was Chicago in 1928. "Capone was King," Burnett later wrote. "Corruption was rampant... Gangsters were shooting each other all over town; in fact, I 'heard' one killing over the radio. It happened in a cafe while a dance-band broadcast was in progress. Two shots came over distinctly, the music slurred to an abrupt stop, then the air went dead."

Intrigued, Burnett started hanging out with cops and hoods, taking notes, and ended up writing a gangster novel he originally titled The Furies. The first New York publisher he sent it to rejected it. He gave it a new title and sent it off again. In 1929 it was published as Little Caesar.

Along with Hammett, whose Red Harvest had come out six months earlier, Burnett was fashioning a new class of crime novel as literate pulp, just as the syndicates were emerging and the Depression was about to redraw the entire social landscape. The writing is very spare in a Hemingwayish way, yet vividly descriptive when it needs to be. His characters have names like Scabby and Limpy John and Killer Pepi, and they speak a Chicago gangster patois he'd heard on the streets, full of hard guys pumping lead out of gats and rods, new to most readers at the time but soon universally recognized. They're vain to the point of girlishness, constantly fussing with their hair and fawn-colored spats and diamond stick pins. They're cocky and quick to take offense because they're so insecure. They're far more tender, sympathetic and loving with each other than they are with their dames. "I would not shoot Rico if he shot me first," one says. "Rico is my friend and I love him with a great love." Rico ends up forfeiting his life because he can't bring himself to shoot an old pal. As opposed to:

Olga Stassoff was just putting the finishing touches to her make-up. Joe came in softly and stood watching her. She began to sing.

"If you're singing for me," said Joe, "you can stop any time."

Olga turned around.

"Well, what are you doing here? Broke?"

"Shut up," said Joe.

Then he turned and walked out of the room.

Scholars have made much of the homoerotic subtext in all this, but then scholars can see homoerotic subtext in a stick of gum. Probably what Burnett was really picking up on was the peculiarities of Mediterranean masculinity as expressed in the largely Italian milieu of the late-1920s Chicago gangster. Film historian Thomas Doherty points out that "foreign" gangsters -- Italians, Jews -- were still pretty mysterious to a lot of Americans; through the 1920s they'd heard more about all-American outlaws like Bonnie and Clyde, John Dillinger and Baby Face Nelson. The rise of organized crime syndicates -- whom Burnett much later called "just businessmen who don’t abide by the rules" -- was also news to many Americans at the time.

Little Caesar was an instant hit. So of course was the film adaptation. The movie was a huge box office success at a time when the Depression was cutting attendance figures by half, and it made Edward G. Robinson a star. It's not nearly as tough or brisk as the book, though Robinson is great in it. Both the book and the movie had their share of critics who expressed outrage that Burnett seemed to be sympathizing with and "humanizing" his hoodlum characters.

Hollywood called and Burnett answered. For the next forty years he'd be there, writing both novels and films, many of them successful, a few of them classics.

There was The Beast of the City in 1932, with Walter Huston as an unscrupulously tough crime-busting cop who'd later be seen as a pre-echo of Dirty Harry. Howard Hughes called on Burnett to make some sense of more than a dozen draft screenplays for Scarface, based on the Armitage Trail novel published around the same time as Little Caesar. Burnett compiled the best scenes into a master draft, then Ben Hecht applied the polish. The result was the last of the great pre-Code gangster films, a movie much harder and more raw than Little Caesar.

Butnett's oddball 1935 comedy The Whole Town's Talking is a kind of meta-crime story, with Edward G. Robinson brilliantly playing two roles, sometimes in split-screen, as a meek bank clerk who's identical to a vicious killer. Jean Arthur's great in her snappy role too, but then isn't she always. Burnett's prizefighter novel Iron Man was made into three films, Iron Man in 1931, Some Blondes Are Dangerous in 1937, and Iron Man again in 1951. His novella Dr. Socrates, about the clash of a small-town doctor and a hoodlum on the lam, was first serialized in Collier's, then made into the 1935 film of the same name. It starred the great Paul Muni and Ann Dvorak, who'd been paired a few years earlier as the possibly incestuous Tony and Cesca Camonte in Scarface. It was remade in 1939 as the Bogart vehicle King of the Underworld.

By his 1940 novel High Sierra, both Burnett's writing and his tough guys had fully matured. His style is more relaxed, still handsomely descriptive but with more psychological depth. Roy Earle in the book is more broken and melancholy than the Dillinger-inspired outlaw Bogart plays in the film, more jittery and uncomfortable in the world after years in stir. He's not thoroughly a bad man, more of a bad-luck stray like the dog Pard. He's weary and lonesome and sick, showing his age in his inability to control either his flashes of snarling violence or his fits of nostalgic longing. The newspapers call him Mad Dog but Old Dog would be more fitting. His affair with Marie, the only other character as tough and savvy as he is, would be totally mysterious to the hard guys in Little Caesar.

The film adaptation came out in 1941, directed by Raoul Walsh, with a screenplay by Burnett and John Huston that's pretty faithful to the book, though they made the necessary Hollywood concessions. In the novel, Velma's not the innocent little hick she is in the film -- she's damaged goods in more ways than the clubfoot -- and it's explicit that Marie starts out "just a lay," as Roy tells her, then worms her way into his heart just like Pard does. Burnett and Huston tacked on the movie's big melodramatic climax as well. In the book Roy makes sure Marie and Pard are well out of harm's way, then dies alone up in the mountains, shot by a gunman he never sees, taking his bullet quietly, almost wistfully. It probably wouldn't have made good cinema but it's a more fitting end for him. This movie would also get remade twice, as a Western in the 1949 Colorado Territory and then as the grimy 1955 I Died a Thousand Times, with Jack Palance as Earle and Shelley Winters doing the Ida Lupino role.

Having helped to invent the modern gangster novel and picture, Burnett wrote some of the darkest, hardest, and ethically murkiest postwar noir, creating a world where it's nearly impossible to tell the good guys from the bad ones because most everybody's tainted or bent in some way. In the 1946 Nobody Lives Forever, John Garfield is both a war hero and a con man. When he comes home from the warfront, like a lot of other vets he tries to pick up his old life, only to find everything's changed while he was gone. It's sort of The Best Years of Our Lives for hoodlums.

In The Asphalt Jungle, published in 1949, the world's gone so dirty and upside down that the supposedly upstanding citizens are actually worse than the bad guys. The cop and the lawyer are more crooked and sleazy than the hoods who pull the heist, and some of them are plenty sleazy. Like Roy Earle, Dix Handley is a throwback, a farmboy operating by a kind of Old West outlaw code of honor he probably read as a kid in pulp magazines. He's pulled down by lowlifes who are thoroughly modern and urban, and as innocent of ethics as rats in an alley. Huston made the film the following year. It reappeared as the forgotten 1963 George Sanders movie Cairo and again in 1972 as the blaxploitation flick Cool Breeze. A tv crime series called The Asphalt Jungle ran for one season in 1961.

Burnett also co-wrote the screenplay for This Gun for Hire, adapted from the Graham Greene novel. He adapted the Eric Ambler spy novel Background to Danger, worked on the anti-syndicate potboiler The Racket and on several Westerns and wartime pictures.

He was still at it in the 1960s, still writing crime novels like The Cool Man, published in 1968. At a time when other pulp writers were cranking out endless knockoffs of James Bond or trying to get with the hippies and drugs, Burnett stuck with what he knew best. Like High Sierra and The Asphalt Jungle it's about a big heist gone wrong, leaving some of the crooks dead and the rest spatting over the spoils. Now almost all his hard guys are anachronisms, noir characters who've survived into the Swingin' Sixties by wits, guile or just brute force. They're at the opposite end of life from the cocky young narcissists in Little Caesar, old guys moving deliberately down crooked paths they know by rote, pursuing their agendas -- money, revenge, self-preservation, sex -- by instinct now. When fate throws them curves they take it, like Roy Earle would have, with a resigned shrug. By the end of the book all their machinations have just sort of petered out; a few of them are dead and the rest are stranded like sharks out of water. You have to wonder if Burnett was feeling a bit like that himself by this point.

Burnett also co-wrote the screenplay for The Great Escape with James Clavell, his last Hollywood coup. He did some uncredited work on Ice Station Zebra, and wrote episodes for several tv series, including Naked City, The Untouchables and, of course, The Asphalt Jungle, as well as a lot of Westerns. His eyesight failing, he didn't write so much in the 1970s. But he was still able to bring his whole career full circle with his last book, Goodbye, Chicago, set in 1928, the year he got there. It was published in 1981 and he died the next year.

by John Strausbaugh

#John Strausbaugh #The Chiseler #The Cool Man #Beast of the City #Jean Harlow #Edward G. Robinson #WR Burnett

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