Potential ideas for an enemies to lovers X reader fic for the one and only Enver Gortash:
1.) Reader is the child of Raphael. It writes itself folks! Maybe Enver managed to escape because he stole one of her books about the Nine Hells? Potential witty banter about her wanting her book back!
2.) Reader is a cleric/paladin/warlock of Cyric, the God of lies, trickery, and strife. Cyric and Bane have a bitter hatred for each other due to Cyric occasionally stealing Bane's domains, and their followers tend to have a kill on sight policy for each other.
3.) Reader is a Cleric of Illmater, the goodest of the good gods. She spends her free time building orphanages, distributing medical supplies, and occasionally beating the daylights out of a a few corrupt flaming fist guards that are mean to the citizens of Baldur's Gate.
Eighty years before Illmatic, a twenty two year old Joyce penned a fifteen-story collection that follows a range of characters from childhood to middle age. But they don’t develop or mature; they have epiphanies but no resolutions. It’s about Dubliners boxed in by poverty, strict Catholicism, the legacies of British colonialism, and booze; scheming and drinking and pimping and suffering — and trapped, trying and failing to escape. Joyce wanted it to “betray the soul of that hemoplegia or paralysis which many consider a city.” Its stripped-down style boots forward modernism; T.S. Eliot said it “destroyed the whole of the 19th century.” It’s a vision of urban and spiritual decay, semi-autobiographical, giving tiny moments in normal lives.
You want me to match them up, story-to-track, one by one? Don’t test me son, I’ll fucking do it. “Memory Lane”? That’s “Araby.” That sample on “Represent”? That’s the snow falling in “The Dead.” Straight up, shit is real and any day could be your last in the jungle.
I’m saying though: Illmatic, Dubliners — nostalgic and loving, but also suffused with deprivation mentally and physically; square-foot-level embedded in place; and everyone wants something more, wants to escape. There ain’t nothing out there for you. Oh yes there is: this.