#v; Smoke and Mirrors {Twilight}

[legends-and-savages]

Tag Dump

[morgana-ren]

Come Down to the Black Sea VII

Summary: As far back as you can remember, the sea has been the singular source of calm in your life so long as you follow one simple rule: Never wander into the ocean after nightfall, no matter how tempting it may seem. Little do you know, it’s not the ornery tides or the tricky undertow you should fear. It's something that lurks deep beneath the black waters; Something sinister with a piqued curiosity and ill intent. Unfortunately, you've got his interest now. For better or for worse.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Mentions of violence, blood, attempted assault, sexual content, one very pissy, overgrown fish and bad writing. It's getting worse folks, much much worse. Soon there will be plenty of uh debauchery for all. I swear. I know what you lot are here for.

(So, it turns out the chapter I forgot to upload was this last one right before this. Uploading it here now so I can fix the tags.)

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VIII, Ao3 Mirror

 What an absolute hell-day. 

The café had been swarming with customers to the point of overflow, and you'd barely gotten a chance to rest your throbbing, aching feet— or even take a damned breath without someone practically breathing down your neck for you. 

With the entire island abuzz with the news of the gruesome beachside slayings, anyone with free time and not much else to do had congregated in social forums and restaurants to speak in hushed tones and exchange gossip. 

Small communities don't have much going on in the way of excitement, so they swarm like bees to honey to any sort of scandal, and it seems that a potential murderer walking among the population is the best form of news to get people in all up in a bluster. Sure, the police had said it was likely an animal attack in their press conference, but people love to talk, and it turns out that a murder is much more titillating than a displaced predator. 

Oh yes, the tips had been great, but you could barely feel your legs, and exhaustion was rapidly taking hold. You’d had another date scheduled for tonight, but in the wake of things, you weren't sure if you could even keep your eyes open long enough to cancel it. A quick apologetic text and a promise to make up for it later is the best you can muster before the dreaded drive home. 

Thoughts of crawling into bed and sleeping through the next afternoon occupy your head, mind on autopilot as you navigate your way back to your apartment. The winding road takes you by the shore, and you can't help but stare longingly for a brief moment before the light turns green. Twilight turns the sky a velvet purple, ocean lapping gently against the sands, and once more, your thoughts turn towards the sea. On nights like this, you’d used to visit the beach, basking in the silence and peace of nature. Truth be told, you miss it terribly; it feels as if a piece of yourself is missing as you deny yourself the opportunity to visit your once special place. 

The vicious sea creature lurking beneath the waves has robbed you of that. 

Vindictive, but more so, utterly drop-dead exhausted, you take the turn the opposite way towards your home– and duvet cover tantalizingly waiting on your bed– instead. 

It’s a rink-dink pop-up apartment that costs more to live in than it likely cost to build the entire thing. It’s not much, but it’s home, and it’s yours– and right now, there’s nothing in the world you want more than to be inside, curled up under the covers layered on your cheap, shitty mattress. 

You’re almost home-free, pulling into your designated parking spot when you spot her: A sun-tanned, leather-skinned older woman that you'd rarely seen without a bent cigarette between her bony fingers is smoking just outside the stairwell. 

Lisa. The resident nosy neighbor. Clearly, news about the beach had reached her as well, as she’s perched in the stairwell like a vulture waiting to pounce on the rest of the unsuspecting tenants and entrap them into a lengthy conversation about her thoughts on it. 

Eyes almost rolling out of your head, you can’t help the audible sigh. You don't have the energy to converse with her, but you steel yourself, knowing it's entirely unavoidable. She's clearly hooking for conversation, several butts lying scattered around her ancient brown sandals. The best you can do is try to cut it short– as short as you can with a woman like Lisa. 

You almost feel bad, being so catty and dismissive of her. She's a very nice lady; she's just exceptionally chatty– and nearly deaf to social cues— and you aren't feeling up to it right now. The only thing you give a good goddamn about is the sink of a pillow. 

“Hey Lisa,” You stifle the sigh that threatens to escape, pulling your bag from the passenger seat and slamming the car door shut with a tired swing of your hip. 

“Howdy kiddo!” She smiles at you, light from the setting sun spotting through the patterned holes in her wide brim straw hat as she nods at you in acknowledgement, clearly gearing up for the whole conversation with barely contained eagerness. “You hear the news?”

“Yep,” You fumble through your bag for your keys, trying to give a clear hint that you aren't in the mood for a chat today, even knowing it's pointless. “Been at work all day. Hard not to. You know how people here talk.”

“Well, I'm glad they let you outta there before it got too dark. It's not safe out there anymore. Not like it was when I was young. You know, used to be you could sleep on the beach and not worry about a thing.” 

That was never the case. Lisa sees things through nostalgia glasses, as is evidenced by her attire, which might have been considered hip at one point before you were even born. 

“Yeah, it's a real shame.” 

“It’s a shame alright,” She inhales another drag from her cigarette, ashing onto the concrete beneath her as she shakes her head. “They were probably good kids. Hurts my heart to see folks so young gone before their time.” “Who?” 

“The kids that were killed— Well, kids to me,” She purses her wrinkled lips. “About your age, if I had to wager. Nothin’ but youngins. They were having some kind of party on the beach when the tragedy occurred. Such a pity their life was cut short like that, especially in that way. What a travesty.” “Yeah, it’s awful,” You yawn, half intentionally, half unable to help it. “I’ve been warning the city council for years that they’re infringing on mother nature, and she’s going to bite back one day. Looks like she has now. She can be brutal, when she wants to be. You know, I told them about that new harbor. You seen that thing? Like we don’t have enough around here. Pokes right at the boundary line.” You nod, not really sure what else to say. It’s clear she wants to spark a discussion, but your head is a mass of fog and exhaustion, and you’re drawing a blank. Thankfully, she seems to get the hint, frowning slightly as she moves to let you pass up onto the stairwell.

“Right, well, you must be tired– you take care now, girlie. Don’t be staying out too late. Something is stirring on this island. Been here long enough to know something ain’t right.”

“I won’t, Lisa. I’m going straight up to bed. I’m wasted.” 

“Good,” She flicks the butt onto the floor, stamping it beneath her shoes before reaching into a half-empty pack for another, apparently still set on fishing for conversation from another unaware person just trying to get home for the day. “Heart can’t take losing anyone else. Old lady can only take so much heartbreak.”

You offer her a sincere smile before continuing on your way. She’s a genuinely sweet woman– lonely, if you had to guess. She doesn’t seem to have any children or family of her own, thinking of herself as some kind of den-mother to the apartment instead. Normally, you’d be more sympathetic to her, but right now, all you can think about is crawling into bed and curling into a ball. 

“Take it easy, Lis. Don’t stay out too late either.” 

You drag yourself up the metal stairs, footsteps heavy and echoing off the metal steps and against the concrete walls. With one last look at the sunset, you flip through your keyring, more than ready to fall into the sheets. You insert the key and–

The door handle turns without you needing it. 

That’s odd. You’re damned sure you locked the door today. Pretty sure, anyways. It’s possible you didn’t. You were a bit preoccupied, after all. It might’ve been one of those little mental slipups. Either way, you’re too tired to worry about it. With a shrug, you kick open the door with a nudge of your boot, hurtling your body through the archway like a stone. 

Your apartment is dark, and left with a pounding headache from overwork and undernutrition, you don’t even bother with the lights. Instead, you fling your bag onto the sofa, where you resolve to deal with it tomorrow. Right now, you want something to calm your churning stomach. Lunch breaks are a fantasy when things get so busy, and you’d only been able to shovel a few bites into your mouth between rushes.

Poking your head in the fridge, you note over the half-eaten leftovers strewn about the shelves, something foul-smelling clearly hiding amongst them. Whatever it is, it’s permeating what little good food you do have, pulling out a few things of tupperwear only to throw them back in disgust, shaking your hand off as if it could wave away the stench.

No dinner tonight, it seems. Even if the lack of food wasn’t enough to turn you off, the smell certainly is, and waiting for takeout sounds like the worst idea you’ve ever had. Tea for dinner it is. 

The stove hums to life, the burner transforming into a bright, scalding red as you fish the teapot from one of your cabinets. It’ll take a few moments for the water to reach boiling point, and it should be just long enough for you to slip out of your day clothes and into something far more comfortable. Nothing in your life has ever sounded better than getting out of these pants and into something light and airy and comfortable.

The hallway is dark, and you nearly trip over a pair of shoes you must’ve left there earlier. The last few days have left you scatterbrained and in disarray, and clearly you’d been letting yourself lose sight of your mental faculties. Forgetting to lock the door, kicking off shoes in the hallway, and who knows what else you’d been neglecting. Tomorrow will have to be an organizational day– but you’ll deal with that tomorrow when you have the ability to process it.

Fumbling through the dark, you manage to find the closet, shucking off your shirt and kicking your pants off your legs as you reach for a clean tank top and a pair of sleep shorts on the shelf. You hear your phone vibrate in the pocket of your work pants, but you can’t be assed with it right now. You don’t even bother fishing it out as you kick your pants to the side. There is no one in the world you feel like talking to right now. Not even your scorned date who is probably bummed you decided to cancel. You are too, to be fair, but you wager you wouldn’t be much fun right now. 

As you unclasp your bra and slide the straps off your shoulders, you could swear you hear some kind of thump behind you. Creaky, miserable old apartment has you scoffing under your breath. Probably the damned AC unit thunking out again. Yet another chore to add to the list of shit to do tomorrow– not that the superintendent will do anything. As far as he is concerned, you pay to sleep here, and that’s that. 

The teakettle starts to whistle from the other room, and you shuffle your dirty clothes to the side, shutting the door to the closet and stepping back into your bedroom. Your eyes haven’t quite adjusted to the darkness, but you swear you see movement.  

It’s far too dark to truly observe anything in the shadows, but it leaves you with the lingering feeling that something is wrong. Something that sends your hackles raising and a shiver down your spine. Nothing seems out of place, but something feels off. 

You try to shake it clean, ignoring the strange bristling that has the small hairs on the back of your neck rising, opting for the kitchen instead. Everything that has happened lately must have your brain fried and your nerves on end. Or you might just be exhausted. 

Yeah, that seems right. 

The kettle steams and pops as you pull it from the burner, filling an old mug with the water and stirring in a teabag. It smells adequate, and you're halfway through inhaling when you swear again that something moves out of the corner of your eye. You haven’t slept properly in days, and the dull light of the setting sun must be playing tricks. Shadows dancing on the walls. The awful news playing on the edge of your mind, making you paranoid. Whatever it is, it can wait.

It's nap time, and not even the God of the sea himself could stop you from it. Nor can that edging fear that grips at the fringes of your mind and won’t relinquish its grip. 

From the hallway, you can see the finishing line. The pale outline of your bed in the darkness, soft and waiting, inviting and utterly perfect. You don't bother flicking on the lights to settle in first. It's so close now, you can practically feel the pillow. The tea goes onto the nightstand, and you're not sure that you'll be awake by the time it's cool enough to drink. You fall into the feathery mattress, so ready for sleep that you swear you're already practically half way there. Your eyes close, not even bothering to worm under the covers. 

Finally. 

Your body sinks into the feather bed, limbs falling limp and relieved exhale inevitable. It’s unbelievably comfortable in a way you could swear it never has been before, and it feels like you’re wallowing in a cloud. It’s so close now, the sweet, lovely embrace of rest–

But that strange, terrible feeling stays sharp on your mind, ever insistent and refusing to quiet despite your whinging mental protests. 

Something has you on edge. Some subtle thing that doesn't feel quite right. Something uncanny and off that has you shifting restlessly. Your body is so exhausted that you can barely think straight, but something raw and primal and cold has lodged itself in your gut, refusing to let go. 

You try to ignore it. Try to shrug it off as typical weird day strangeness. You flip onto your back, trying desperately to will yourself into the sleep you'd been so desperate for. Your stomach churns, anxiety and adrenaline racing through your veins for no real discernible reason, and even as you grasp for rest, it slips through your fingers. 

The short hairs of your body stand on end, that dreadful feeling of being observed without your knowledge edging into your mind. What was once a persistent tired warps into a cold dread, your heart pounding, something urging you to run–

Your eyes open of their own volition, scanning around for something. Something abnormal, something wrong. You're greeted by nothing but blackness, but you swear, you could swear—

“You humans are so dull. No wonder you’re all half dead already.”

You did not imagine that. Your eyes dart in the direction of the noise, blood like ice and hands beginning to shake. Body paralyzed in fear, refusing to move. That voice, it sounds like—

“It's a– how you say– modern fucking marvel you haven't been killed off already.”

Sparking to life like an old motor, your body shoots up off the mattress, heart thrumming in your ears and legs quaking but ready to bolt. Your feet hit the cheap carpet, knees bent and poised to flee. How is it possible, how is it possible?

A heinous cackle resounds through the room, echoing off the thin walls of your apartment. That hideous laugh that haunted your dreams the first time you'd heard it. 

“T-Tomura?”

This has to be a nightmare. It has to. 

A frantic look around greets you with two horrible red eyes in the shadows, glowing faintly in the dark. Somewhere in the dim light, you can make out the shine of ivory teeth, beset by twin sets of fangs, bared in a snarl. Your hand slaps the nightstand, determined to prove to yourself you must be losing it. A flick of the light on your table only proves true your worst fear. 

He’s here.

Like a horrid shadow, a monster clad in black, a figure stands in the corner of your room bearing down on you. Tall and imposing, menacing as he glares you down with horrible red eyes.Whatever reason he’s here, it cannot be good. Your mind swims through memories of your last encounter: The ferocity, the viciousness, the vindictive and sincere way he’d lunged at you. He’d wanted you dead– and now he’s here to finish the job. 

A desperate rabbit cornered by a fox and left with no other options and, frankly, nothing to say to him, you bolt. 

Like a newborn fawn on stilted legs, you tear towards the door of your bedroom, almost tripping over a pair of wayward pants. You barely manage to catch yourself on the wall, scrambling to right your balance. There's heavy football behind you like the beat of a drum, approaching inhumanly fast. You claw at the door frame, desperate for the extra momentum. Another cruel laugh, this time immediately behind you.

He's on you before you can even manage a scream, large hand encircling your neck, sharp nails dimpling painfully into the soft skin. Squealing and dizzy, he rips you to your feet with a fluid and disconcerting ease, tossing you back on the mattress with a shove of his arm. 

You try to scramble backwards on the bed, efforts squandered as his frigid, clawed fingers wrap themselves around your ankle, yanking you forward once more. Fear and horror mix a caustic cocktail in your gut, kicking fruitlessly at your assailant. His soft chuckle is almost somehow more dastardly than his shrill bark of laughter, sending a riptide of terror through you as he approaches, your leg held in his unrelenting iron grip. 

“How is this possible?” The words force themselves from your throat, your hands clutching the sheets as if they could protect you somehow. “You can't— it's not possible!”

“You arrogant little idiot,” he spits, a guttural growl overtaking the ends of his sentence. “You don't know what I'm capable of. But you'll find out.”

“But you're— your tail and— But–” 

His other hand curls into the neckline of your tank top, the fabric audibly stretching between his fingers. “Disgusting, isn't it?”

He pushes forward, your head pulling instinctively backward as he leans closer. An overly large hoodie envelops his upper body, with an ill-fitting pair of black jeans riding low on his hips. The hood is pulled over his head, pasting a smattering of frazzled silver hair to his forehead and over his face, leaving only his chapped, snarling mouth visible to you. 

“How?”

Another derisive laugh, mouth curling into a twisted grin. “I'm capable of all sorts of things you can't even fathom.”

The metallic, acrid scent of copper becomes palpable and assails your nostrils as he leers over you, and even in your terror, you begin to notice suspicious, dark stains spattered over the fabric of his ill-fitting clothing. Sand stubbornly layers in the creases, rubbed obstinately to the cheap cotton, and you notice strange rips and tears far too clean to be organic and ‘hip’ all over his attire. 

Still, it’s not until you see the barely visible logo for a local college, bloody and half-torn from where it had been ironed on, that it hits you. 

The clothes aren't his. They can’t be. 

He took them. From his victims.

“Jesus— it was you!”

“You'll need to be more specific,” he grins. 

“The beach! Those college kids— the massacre— you killed them!”

He rolls his slitted eyes, an obstinate sense of  pride still shining through his dismissive expression. “Don't act surprised. You thought someone else had finally had enough of your kind to do something about it? Don't be stupid.”

“God— how could you? They were innocent—”

Snorting air through his nostrils, he scoffs. “Innocent? There's no such thing for one of you,” He pushes your back further onto the mattress, torso leaning down and head pushing closer until he's so near that you can feel his breath puff on your collar bones as he scents you. “Besides, it's your fault.” 

“I didn't kill them!” 

“But you made me do it. Didn't you?” 

“What are you talking about?” You try to shove at him, feeling his chest against yours. The burn in the back of your thigh from how he’s stretching your leg wails and whines, but it’s a dull roar compared to the cacophony of fear that blares in your brain like a siren as you hear him snap his teeth. 

“I couldn't even eat them all. I wasn't even hungry,” he giggles maliciously, driving the point of cruelty home. “They died because of you, you know.  Because you had to be a stubborn little brat.” 

“You're a fucking monster,” you hiss, anger starting to bleed through the fear. “Don't you dare blame me.”

“If you'd have let me do what I wanted, they'd still be alive,” Softly, he huffs onto your neck, raspy voice laced with faux-sympathy. His hand releases your newly-maimed shirt to trace his thumb over the hollow of your throat, fingers eventually settling to rest on the precipice between your shoulder and neck. You can feel the tip of his claw prick at your skin, threatening to sink deeper. “So it's your own fault.”

“Fuck you!”

“Offer still stands,” He mockingly grins, tongue lashing out against your pulse point as you recoil. “I'm sure I could figure it out in your clunky human form. The outcome will be the same either way. I wasn't hungry then, but I am now. Starved, even.” 

His fangs graze your flesh, finally removing his hand from your ankle only to anchor you down by the hip instead. His grip is steel, claws sharp as razors resting threateningly against your skin. You whimper as he chuckles, tongue lapping more insistently this time. 

“Where's all that fight now? All that brattiness you had? Not so brave now that I can touch you, are we?” His fingers tighten on the rounds of your hip, nails divoting just enough to punish and leave you twitching. “It doesn't matter now.”

Hate sparks your survival instincts, your arm slowly moving to the side and praying the movement doesn’t catch his attention, your hand desperately searching for something— anything— you can use against him. It reaches the cool wood of the nightstand, fingers fumbling about for a grip on something weighty. 

“It doesn't have to hurt,” He pants, fingers beginning to wander beneath the hem of your shirt. “I can be merciful— if you beg me.”

“Like hell,” you spit, longing to tear those terrible eyes from his head as they scan over you.

“There's a girl,” He exhales in a ragged way that leaves your gut shooting through the floor, hand slinking to squeeze at the rounds of your waist. His tongue slips through his teeth one last time, lapping at the tender spot on the crook of your neck until you’re certain it’s gone raw. “I'll almost miss you when you're gone.”

Faster than you can register, his lips latch, fangs driving into your yielding throat without pity or remorse. Your mouth opens in a wordless cry, scream caught like a flightless bird in your chest. He wiggles above you, worming his way further onto you and clutching for leverage as he gnashes. His teeth are like knives, your blood warm and feeling horrifically uncanny as he tears into you almost teasingly with every whimper and whine, clearly testing the limits of his restraint. You can practically feel his every synapse longing to rip into you, quaking with ravenous need. A true predator, held back only by the leash of his own urges.

It will only satiate him for long. He's supping on your fear— your terror— reveling in his own victory. 

You won't let him have it. 

It's now or never. 

Your voice strains with pain and adrenaline, your shaking fingers curling around the handle of the mug of tea, still almost warm against your flesh. 

“The feeling isn't mutual!”

Driven by pure survival, it’s over in a flash. With as much momentum as you can muster, you bring the ceramic down on the top of his head. There's an audible thunk hidden somewhere underneath his animalistic howl, and your body slams into overdrive, kicking him off of you with every ounce of hidden strength you have as his fangs release their hold. Faster than you knew yourself capable of, you're off the bed, hand still cradling the sodden mug, body hunched in a defensive position, unsure of whether to fight or fly. 

He turns to face you, mouth still wet with your blood and eyes ablaze with fury. His hands brandish those dastardly claws, so eager to tear you apart. Abject terror nearly nails you to the spot, a deer in wretched, red headlights, but some hidden strength drives you to throw the heavy mug square at his head and make a break for it. He narrowly dodges it with inhuman reflex, lip curling into a vicious snarl as it smashes against the wall instead, shattering into fractured pieces that scatter across the floor of your bedroom. 

You don't stick around to hear what he says next. Feet pounding the carpet, you take off down the hallway, desperate to reach the front door. So close, if you can just get outside, you can call for help. You can almost feel the air from outside, hand reaching forward towards the handle—

“Get back here!” 

Fingers snag in your hair, nails grazing your scalp and ripping you backwards, a high-pitched cry erupting from you as agony sears through your spine. Your back hits the wall of the hallway hard enough to bruise, a cold hand curling around your neck once again and squeezing hard enough that it leaves you gasping.

“You little bitch.”

The back of his hand meets your cheek with uncanny strength, and now it's your turn to taste blood– your own– as one of your teeth juts into the tender, soft flesh of your inner lip. You see double for a moment before your eyes manage to focus in on his face. His expression is twisted into one of hateful rage, teeth bared and dyed a watery crimson. Another yank forward only to slam you against the wooden wall once more, your head making a hideous crack as it makes contact. Pain explodes through your skull, tears forming on your eyes against your own will. 

“You could have made this easy,” He tightens his grip on your throat until you struggle for breath, hiccuping air pathetically where you can. “But now? I'm going to take my time with you. I'm going to make it hurt.”

“Go to hell— you overgrown clownfish—”

“Talk tough while you can,” Five sharp pains where his fingers dig into your skin. “Soon you won't even be able to beg me to stop.”

You slam your bare foot into his bony shins, trying to kick him off. You swear you hear him chortle, tongue flicking out over his lips. A stray picture frame clatters to the ground at your struggling, glass shattering as it makes contact with the floor. 

“You humans are so weak. It's pathetic.” he loosens his grip only a modicum, just enough to watch you flounder in his grasp. You grab at his wrist, raking your nails across his pale skin, tearing at his sleeve and leaving red welts in your wake. If he even notices your weak attempt to pry him off, he shows no indication. 

“Let me go!”

“I don't think so, you sniveling little brat. I gave you a chance, and you spit it back in my face.” 

“What are you even talking about! You're the one who threw a fit and attacked me again out of nowhere! I didn't even do anything to you!”

“You're just like the rest of your kind,” he growls, spitting the final word like an insult. “You understand nothing.”

“You don't even try to explain! You just— you just get all pissed off and start throwing tantrums!” 

His face contorts, and then evens out. “Do you really think mocking me is the wisest idea?”

“What does it matter? You're going to kill me either way!” 

“True,” he shrugs, lips curling upwards into a sinister smile. “You might as well just let it happen. Let this all be over.” 

You wince as he leans in again, legs kicking wildly, ankles pounding the wall of the hallway. 

“Yes, soon, it'll all be over, and things can go back to the way they should be. You'll be gone, and I can forget all about this and you—”

Something pings in your brain. As you scratch and claw at his skin, something nags at you. Something he’s said. 

It doesn’t add up. Even your fear-shackled brain recognizes that something is off. He can hate you, sure, but all of this? Forgoing the sea, dragging himself through a city he loathes filled with people he wants dead? Risking life and limb and his prized freedom simply to teach you a lesson? He could have waited and watched, but he didn’t. He was willing to bet it all to see the light leave your eyes and suffocate the lingering flames of your influence on him. Behind the terror of the situation, the logic cracks apart and begins to break. 

Through some effort, you manage to drag your gaze away from his hate-filled one, eyes flickering to the pale of his bony wrist, your fingertips brushing against a bit of fabric tied around it. 

Clothing. Your clothing. The scrap he’d ripped from you in his last monstrous fit of rage. 

Something clicks. 

“S-sounds like you’re the one with the problem–” You try to force a snigger, laughing in the face of death. “You think killing me will make it all go away, huh?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” He sneers. 

“Don’t I?” You heave air into your lungs where you can beneath his steely fingertips, body panicking at the looming suffocation. 

“No, you don’t!”

 “It’s almost romantic. You made yourself human just to get little old me–” 

“Shut up.” 

“N-nah,” You offer him a cruel smile, equal parts spite and amusement. “Got you really twisted up, doesn’t it? Never been told no?” “You’ll be quiet if you know what’s good for you–” 

“Don’t think– Don’t think I will. And I don’t t-think that’s what you want either, if you think about it.” “You will,” He tightens his grip. 

“Did it make you that j-jealous?” 

Another slam before you can even finish the word. Your head is spinning, pain splitting your skull in two. Your head lulls, eyelids fluttering. 

“Y-you can’t take it– being told– n-no,” Your head swivels loosely. “And that’s why you’re here. I mean, that—” You inhale raggedly, regaining your strength to glare up at him with unrelenting accusation. “—Or you’re that lonely.”

“You have an awfully big mouth for an idiot about to die!” “Admit it,” You swallow, cringing at the taste of pennies in your throat and tinging the taste buds on your tongue. It’s thick and sickening, but you power through. “You were bored. I’m the closest thing to entertainment you’ve had. The closest thing to a friend. You missed me–” 

“You’re a pathetic human whore. I came here to end you like you deserve.” “Did you?” You grin up at him, your own teeth slick with blood. “How’d you find me, Tomura?”

He says nothing, but his lips twitch ever so slightly. There’s that murderous glint to his eyes, a fire feeding into an inferno, but you can’t help pushing. It feels like he’s accidentally revealed some sacred part of himself against his will. Some baleful, forsaken, deep place he keeps hidden even from himself. 

“And now you’re in my apartment, t-trying to kill me. Or is it your own misery you want to snuff out? You think if you kill me, it’ll all go away–” 

“I’d kill you and every other filthy human if I could,” He says, eyes flashing and voice full of conviction. 

“But you can’t,” You cough, still trying to breathe through his steely grip. “So now you’re here.” 

“Not yet. But I can sure as hell kill you.”

It’s a gamble. A huge one. But the way you see it, the bad end will come either way. 

“And let me guess, you think if you kill me, everything will go back to the way it used to be? That the crippling loneliness will subside, and you can go back to sustaining on pure fucking hatred alone? ‘Kill your friends and you can miss them’ type of deal? That you can pretend that you never cared at all? Fool even yourself?” 

Looking back at your ‘friendship’ with him, it seems more antagonistic than anything, but for him, that’s probably the only contact he’s had in ages. There may be others of his kind, but you have an inkling that they are either gone, or he hasn’t seen them– or isn’t welcome among them. Despite his best efforts to appear otherwise, he has the quiet desperation of a man who hasn’t been heard and allowed his sadness to fester and harden into molten rage, oozing and destructive and directionless. 

“We are not friends!” 

“Fine line between care and hatred. You just seem like you can’t tell the difference anymore. You’re here trying to murder me and that doesn’t happen when you’re as apathetic as you claim to be.” 

“You’re a fool.” “And you’re lying to yourself! You think killing me will make it go away? You think that ache will stop? Stop and think for a fucking minute, Tomura! You have no plan, no prospects, and the entire island on high alert. You risked your life to be here and do this. You think that’s normal?” 

“It’s your fault!” He hisses, spitting words between his teeth. “I hate you!” “Well at least you can admit you feel something!” 

He growls, a low rumble in his chest, but again, he says nothing. 

“Look, if I disappear, people will come looking. I have a job, family, people that will know something is wrong. They’ll find you here, and you’ll be carted off to be a glorified science experiment for the remainder of your life. You’ll never see the ocean again. Is that what you want? Is this really worth it?”

Silence. The wheels in his head are turning, and while he will never admit it, there’s the tiniest flicker of dubious doubt there. “Your only hope of ever making it home again is to let me live– unless you’re willing to die for me. For this. I could take you back, and we can just– just forget about this. But that’s your only chance. If you kill me, it’s game over. For both of us.” 

A stand-off between the both of you. His white-hot stare, eyes like malignant rubies boring into yours, steeling himself against your invasive words. There is no part of him ready to admit anything close to what you've accused, but the pressure on your body doesn't increase. Frozen, a violent moment in time suspended for what feels like eternity in amber. 

You're certain he could have waited like that for an age. A never ending nightmare he's more than happy to keep you held hostage in. 

At least, he would have. 

Something catches your attention. A noise that isn’t your wild thrashing or his whispered threats. A thumping noise, a bit too rhythmic and controlled to be from your struggle. 

Just down the hall, someone is knocking on the front door. 

It only takes him a moment to realize as well. He looks at you, and you look at him, both of you in a stasis. His hand on your neck, your nails dragging against his wrist. An endless moment with the both of you frozen in a tableau of violence.

“Darlin’, you in there?” 

Lisa. It’s Lisa. Oh, you could kiss her. 

He shoots you an accusing glare, as if you had planned this from the start. A large hand slaps over your mouth, fingers still flexing on the rounds of your throat. His body bullies you further into the wall to stay your struggling, doing everything in his power to keep you quiet. 

“Not a single word,” He hisses. “If you even try to scream, I’ll break your neck.”

It’s difficult to breathe through his large hand cupped on the latter half of your face, leave alone through the pressure on your windpipe, but you obey, nodding to his command. If nothing else, it might buy you a bit of time to think. 

“I heard some commotion from downstairs, so I thought I’d come check on you. Are you in there?”

Neither of you move a muscle, entirely frozen in place. Moments pass, but you know Lisa. She’s persistent. She won’t be leaving.

“Sweetheart?” she's pounding on the door insistently. “You’re worrying me. I know you’re in there. Is everything okay?”

“Don't fucking move,” He reminds you. “I'll kill you both.”

Lisa, nosy as she is, is a good woman. You don't want her hurt. You keep your mouth shut, even as you could scream. She keeps knocking, even as you pray for her to leave. Think, think, think–

Tomura’s entire body is tensed and coiled like a cobra, each muscle pulled taut and poised to strike. He seems caught between fight and flight; his instincts screaming that he turn tail, but his hatred demanding he stay. More humans is the last thing he wants, but he refuses to allow this to have been for nothing. He won’t get the chance again.

“Well, that does it. I'm calling the cops!” She croaks from outside the door, panic rising in her throaty voice. 

His eyes widen the tiniest bit, and for the first time, you see it. Fear. He can't take on an entire department. Guns drawn and ready and eager to brutalize. At best, it cuts his plans short and kills him. At worst? They take him alive. 

That. You can work with that.

His smothering grip on your face muffles what you try to say. His eyes flick to you, and against his better judgement, he eases it the tiniest amount. Just enough that you manage to squeak out a sentence, but ready to clamp down again if you’re foolish enough to try to yell.

“She's not going to leave, and she will call.”

“Then perhaps she needs to die–” “People will notice her missing. Two missing people in the same apartment? There’s no way in hell you’ll make it back to the ocean. You won’t make it anywhere! They’ll cordon off this entire block. We’ll be dead, but so will you. Or worse.” 

He seems to panic for a moment, eyes flitting about, and gripping tightly. He clearly didn’t plan for nosy neighbors– if he planned at all. “And how do I know you won't run anyway? You humans are stupid like that–” 

“I don't want you to hurt anyone else! If I run, you'll just kill us both, like you said! I’m not in any grand hurry to die!”

He seems to deliberate for a moment, fingers flexing and eyes narrowed as he realizes his time to decide is running short. Even as he tries to hide it, there’s the tiniest hint of panic hidden behind the wrath of his expression. 

“Look, the longer you wait, the more likely it is she’s calling the police. Then we’ll both have a lot of explaining to do that I know you aren’t keen on. I can make her go away, but you need to trust me.” 

He flinches at the word trust, mouth pulling into a snarl. 

“You don’t have a choice!” You remind him sharply. “Go ahead and answer the door yourself if you want, but her seeing a strange man in my apartment isn’t going to ease her suspicion!”

He huffs, hand pulling from your mouth to ball at his side. The other still tenses threateningly on your neck, even as he realizes he’s been bested by unforeseen circumstance. 

“Fine,” He releases you slowly, questioning his decision even as he does it. “But I'm listening. And if you so much as hint—”

“I won't!” You rub at your sore throat, voice croaking. “ Now give me that robe! Inside the bathroom door.”

He seems perplexed, but does so, throwing it carelessly over and watching intently as you pull it over your shoulders and cover your freshly bruising neck and bubbling bloodwork smeared over your chest. 

“Just– Just stay here! Don’t move! And don’t let her see you!”

You unlock the padlock to the door, just noticing the damage now from where Tomura must have forced his way in earlier. Great. No way in hell you’re getting your security deposit back now. A flustered Lisa stands outside the doorway, cellphone in hand, smelling of stale and acrid cigarette smoke.

“Hey! Hey— sorry,” You offer her your best ‘I swear nothing is wrong’ smile. “I was a bit tied up.”

“I— Jesus, girl. Are you okay? There's been one hell of a ruckus coming from up here. You're bleeding—” Her eyes settle on your temple where you’re certain a dribble of blood is matting in your hair.

“C— Closet shelf fell on me when I was changing out of my work clothes,” you smile, wiping your hair out of your face. “I knew I shouldn't have put it up myself. Came crashing right down on me. Broke all my stuff right on my head.”

“My God, that’s horrible! I knew I should have told the superintendent to do his damn job and come up and help. Do you need an ambulance? Here, I'll call—”

“No!” You almost snatch at her phone, panic rising as you can practically hear Tomura gearing up. “No! Really, I'm okay. Just a bit of ice and a few bandages and I'll be fine. It looks worse than it is.”

She gives you a skeptical look, trying to peek into your apartment in a less-than-inconspicuous manner. 

“Honest. I'm fine! Just a bit of a shock, is all. Scared the hell out of me, but I'm fine. I’ll fix it later. I’m just exhausted, is all. I want a nice bath and some sleep.”

“I—”

“If it's bad, I'll get it looked at,” You insist, unsure if you’re more desperate for her to stay or to leave. With the threat of the malevolent creature perched in your hallway, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice, you decide it’s the latter. 

“I don't have insurance, Lis. The café can’t afford it. You know I can't go to a hospital. It'll put me in the poor house. I can barely afford anything as it is, leave alone medical bills.”

It's a dirty card to play, but it's honest, and more importantly, it works. She pauses, shoulders falling in defeat after a moment as shakes her head, slipping her phone back into her pocket. “Damn shame, the state of things. Ridiculous.” 

“Yeah,” you force a rough laugh, trying to appear calm and composed even through your rabbiting heart. “I'll take it easy. I'm going to lie down. It’s not that bad. It just looks that way.”

“Alright, honey. You know to call if you need anything, right?” 

“I do. Thank you, Lisa. Really.”

You mean it sincerely. Her interference probably saved your life… for now.

“Do you want me to stop by tomorrow? Help you clean up?” “I’ll let you know. I’ll give you a call either way and let you know everything is alright.”

“You better,” She pokes at your chest with an orange acrylic. “Don’t go scarin’ me like that.”

“Sorry again. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” 

Reluctantly, she turns, offering you one last look. This won’t be the last you hear of this, but you’ll have to deal with that later. You have a bigger issue to deal with now. 

But you think you have just the idea how to. 

Lisa has gifted you a trump card. More than that? She inadvertently offered you courage. You saw fear in his eyes. You know you did, and you can work with that. 

As you shut the door, he starts towards you again, claws brandishing, wrought iron fury born anew, his mind back on a singular purpose. It’s clear he’s eager to pick up where you left off. There’s just enough distance between you that it gives you a modicum of confidence, though not much.

“Touch me and I’ll scream,” You snap. “If she doesn’t call the police, someone else will. You might be able to kill me, but you can’t kill everyone here and clearly everyone has heard your little tantrum.” 

That gives him pause, but only for a moment.

“You can't kill me now, so let it go,” you say with a shaky voice. “If Lisa heard it, our fight was loud enough to put the entire apartment on high alert. You'll never make it out alive. You'll be exposed, and you know what happens then.”

You hear him growl, practically shaking with fury. You’re backing him into a corner, and you know he despises that.

“But look, I'll just— I'll walk you out now. We can pretend everything is normal. You can just leave. Go home. We can— we can forget about this– about each other.”

You see his chest rise with a sharp inhale, teeth bared. “I'm not leaving.”

“You have to!”

“No.”

“Why! What is your problem? I didn't do anything to you!” Anger sparks, your hands furling into fists, knuckles blanching white. “You show up here, attack me for no reason for the— like the third time– unprovoked! I don't even know what's happening! You claim to hate me. Why do you hate me so much?” 

He says nothing, only continues to stare you down. 

“I don’t know what your fucking deal is!” Your fear morphs into anger, weeks of confusion and isolation coming to a head. “You’re all over the damn map! You try to kill me, you won’t leave me alone, you think you own me–” “I told you that you were mine!” “No, I’m not! I don’t belong to you! I don’t even know where you got that idea! You threw a fit when you saw me with my friend–” “He wasn’t a friend.” “It doesn’t matter! It literally does not matter! It’s none of your business! Your entire gimmick is you want to eat me!” He blinks at you, head cocking slightly to the side. “I’m not leaving.” 

“Yes, you are!” “No.” 

That stubborn impudence returns and he digs his heels in, arms folding over his chest, infuriating smile crooking at his lips at his realization that he’s irritating you. 

“No! Nuh uh! You do not get to come into my apartment, try to kill me, and then refuse to leave!” “Too bad.” 

“Jesus, what do you want?” “I told you. I’m not leaving until I get it.” 

“Well, sucks for you. You’re not eating me.” “Then I’m not leaving,” He shrugs. “I’ll keep myself entertained in the meantime.”

“God, get out!” You point at the door. “Go back home! You can’t be here!” 

“Already here.” 

You throw your head back in a frustrated groan, agitating your already tender throat. “Fucking leave!” 

“No.” “Well, then you’d better pony up your half of the rent!” “....Rent?” His brows furrow. “What is a rent?” You stare at him incredulously, frowning. “I am not explaining all of this to you.” 

“Fine. Then don’t.” 

“Tomura,” You sigh, exasperated and exhausted. “I don’t know what your deal is. This has been a very surreal day, and now you’re here, and you’re a murderer, and you’re trying to murder me too. I can’t deal with this right now. Just please go back to the beach. Go back home. I can’t deal with all of this right now.” “Can’t,” He grins. “Place is crawling with humans.” “So– wait, what exactly was your plan? You kill me, and then– what? Just chill here for a few days? Hope no one comes looking for me and finds you here with my corpse?” You try to calculate some semblance of logic from it all, but arrive at nothing. “You genuinely didn’t have one, did you?”

You’d been bluffing when you suggested it. Apparently, you weren’t wrong. 

“Basically,” He leans against the wall. 

“Jesus Christ, you are bad at this. You put the entire island on alert with your horrible stunt last night. You really think you’d just get away with all of this?”

“I made it here, didn’t I?” 

“Holy hell.” 

“Get used to it. I told you, I’m not leaving until I get what I want. And besides,you said it yourself,” A smug smile tugs at his lips. “I can’t leave now. Too many humans here. Can’t have them seeing me leave your home, can you?” 

You eye his ragged clothes, the blood matted under his nails and in his hair. He is suspicion embodied. In an apartment complex like this, people see everything. Small communities don’t have much going on, so anything out of the ordinary becomes a spectacle. It’s a miracle that he wasn’t seen getting here. An abnormal man of uncanny height, clad in stolen clothes covered in blood at matted hair. 

Christ. If he’s seen leaving your apartment less than a day after the murders–

“Still want me to leave?” He sing-songs. 

“God, just– shut up. Shut the fuck up and let me think!” 

He can’t stay here. He can’t. You’ll wake up with him trying to strangle you in your sleep. He’s a vicious mythical creature capable of hells know what, and he’s made his intentions clear. 

But trying to force him back home right now is a death sentence. For both of you. 

“Okay– okay– Let me– let me think– get out of those clothes! Now!” His brows shoot into his hairline. “Forward. I didn’t know you were that type of girl. Was it the choking–” “The blood! The blood, you moron! You’re leaving evidence all over my place! Hell– We need to clean them and then get rid of them! Like yesterday!” 

“Calm down,” He rolls his eyes. 

“No! Off! Quit– quit touching things!” You push past him, storming back into your room. “I’ll get you something else to put on, but get those off!”

He makes an exasperated sound, but you ignore it, opting to tear through your closet instead. You don’t have much in the way of men’s clothing, but there has to be something that will fit him. You settle on an oversized black shirt, and a pair of sweatpants that will likely be too small in the legs. Him looking absurd isn’t your concern right now. You need to make him look as normal as you physically can. This entire scenario gives you whiplash, fighting for your life not even 20 minutes ago, but you can’t focus on that now. 

Back in the hallway, you’re about to chuck the clothes at him, and you notice he’s entirely shirtless. His clawed hands fumble with the zipper of his too-large stolen jeans, clearly frustrated and about to give up and simply pull them straight down his bare thighs. His skin has the same inhuman silvery sheen, even clear of the moonlight. Just under the curtain of long, wintry hair, you can make out the slight cut of closed gills on his throat, his ears abnormally pointed beneath the stringy locks. The fins are gone on the lengths of his forearms, but there’s the glimmering of translucent scales still there across the flanks. He is broad and bony, just like you remember, lean muscle under the stretch of alabaster, almost iridescent flesh. 

You can’t help but stare for a moment. It takes a second for you to shake yourself clear.

“God– Not in front of me!” You cover your eyes, tugging your head away. “And get the bloody clothes off the fucking floor!” “Nag-nag,” He scoffs. “It’s a body. Who cares? Besides, you didn’t mind in the ocean.” “We aren’t in the ocean! You’re a weird guy in my apartment! Here, just– just put these on!” You wave the clothing at him like a child offering a treat to a rabid animal. “And put the other ones in the bathroom!” 

“Whatever.” “And you need to bathe!” 

“....bathe?” 

“Fuck, man, just put the goddamn clothes on! We’ll deal with that later!” 

You hear the rustle of clothing, and rather than stand there awkwardly, you keep your eyes covered as you make your way into the kitchen, throwing on a pot of water to boil. You’ve never cleaned murder evidence out of clothing before, and forensics isn’t a strong suit, but you’re hoping enough hot water, vinegar, and then fire will be enough to absolve your conscience. 

You doubt it. 

There’s the uncomfortable feeling of being watched, and you notice Tomura is leaning in the doorframe, watching you fumble around the kitchen.  You were right: The pants are too short in the legs, and they look almost like floods on him, but he doesn’t seem the type to care about fashion. His feet are large and clawed, just like his hands, and you shiver at the slight tinge of blood on his nails. 

“I cannot fucking believe you, Tomura,” You say, almost like a disappointed parent. “They were kids–” “Oh, whatever ,” He rolls his eyes, your effort at guilt rolling off of him like water on a duck. “They were not kids. And they would have killed themselves drunk driving anyway. They were– how you say it– scumbags . The filth of the earth. You think I just walked up to a random group of people and started slaying?” “That is literally exactly what I think.” “Well, yes. But also no. I watched them. I know their type ,” He spits it with a certain animosity that has you believing him. “ Frat .” “As much as it pains me to say it, not all frat boys are scumbags, as you so delicately put it.” 

“These were. Drunken, moronic frat boys, pressuring uncomfortable women into sex–” “Oh, you are just so not one to talk!” 

“I’ve never made you fuck me,” He scowls, almost indignant at the accusation. “And any humans I’ve fucked, it’s been entirely consensual.” “Until the murder.” “Until that, yes. But even then, they wanted it. Begged for it, even.” “So frat boys lacing drinks is so different from your– your abilities? ” “Yes. They have a choice in their evil deeds. Do you get angry at the shark for attacking the wayward human that fumbles into his waters? I’m a predator, and you are beneath me in the food chain, as your scientists put it. It is in my nature .” “Well, the shark thing– kinda– I mean, I don’t, but there are humans that do–” “And this is why we hate you,” He snarls. “You come uninvited into our home and have the audacity to act shocked when we act on our very nature. You know nothing of the ocean and yet you think it belongs to you.” “You’re one to talk,” You huff beneath your breath, bringing the water to a boil in the pot. “And what does that mean?” 

“Firstly, you’re not in the ocean right now, buddy. You’re in my apartment, wearing my clothes, taking up my time.” 

“Compared to your boats and harbors and divers and surfers? Do not get me started on your military and your industrial dumping –” 

“It’s not the same! I don’t control those!” “No, but your kind do. And you control your own actions. You strayed by the water, and now you are upset you are marked by one of me. I shouldn’t expect any less from those who put down animals who taste of human blood.” 

“I didn’t expect a stalker when I went to the water! And I wasn’t hurting anything! I don’t litter or–” “And how many fish have done nothing to you? How many dolphins and whales? How many of my ilk have you murdered?” “So…. does that mean you’re related to a mackerel?” 

He isn’t amused, but you are, snorting at your own joke.

“Survival of the fittest. That is the motto of your kind, no? Well, here I am, one link above you. And you can do nothing to stop it.” “You’re awfully afraid of our police force for such tough talk. They could sure as shit stop you.” “And if my kind wasn’t so fucking– weak and useless , we could have driven you away eons ago!” 

There’s bitterness in his words, and buried somewhere beneath it, pain . It's skant, and ancient, but still there beneath layers of old scars. Something he has let accidentally slip. You can't imagine he'd be so obvious on purpose. It's not his forte. 

“So, there are more of you? Your kind, I mean?” 

You need to tread carefully. It’a apparent from his expression and the way his body tightened that this is a sore subject. Still, curiosity gets the better of you. 

“Obviously, dumbass,” He huffs, running a clawed hand through his hair, flicking the shed onto the floor. “I’m not an anomaly. I was obviously born from something.” “How, uh, how many? Like are you a society or–” “Better than yours,” His arms cross once more over his chest. “And if they weren’t so passive, things wouldn’t be like this.” “What do you mean? Passive?” “They refuse to do anything about you, even as you ruin and desecrate our homes. They look at you like kittens– children . Destructive because you are young. That one day you’ll learn, and it won’t be like this. But I know better. I know what you are.” 

“And what’s that?” “A fucking blight. You ruin everything you touch, and you put your grimy homunculus hands on everything! The sea wouldn’t have you, so you made your colonies on land, and we allowed it to happen. We could have ended it right then and there!” 

“How– how old are you?” 

“I told you once, you sprang from us . The rejected offspring of the ocean. We could have crushed you in the cradle, and we didn’t, and now this .” 

You sit in uncomfortable silence for a moment, trying to wrap your head around his words. If what he says is true, it turns everything you knew upside down. There are more of him, evolution theory is ever so slightly off apparently, and more than that, it seems it’s only by the good nature of his people that you’re still alive. 

“Where are they? The others, I mean?” “Fuck if I know. They fucked off ages ago to let your spawn and breed your merry way across the land. Somewhere deep, I imagine.” 

“And– you stayed? Here?” 

“Duh,” He sighs, but his eyes dart to the side as he scratches at his chin. Something tells you he didn’t have a choice. “Some of us were right about you. Some of us knew better. And we paid for it. Everyone else just– just let it slide. But those of us who knew, we just couldn’t.” “You’re an outcast,” You mutter under your breath, almost pitying him. 

“I left because I wanted to! Because I couldn’t stomach another fucking second among those that would just let it happen! After everything you’ve done to us, tearing us apart,murdering us–” Suddenly he clams shut, eyes rabid and frantic. It takes him a moment, but he seems to calm himself down, lips furling into a scowl once more. 

“We left because we wanted to. Because we wouldn’t just let it slide off our fins anymore. You and your kind, you’ve done enough. Given the opportunity, you’d destroy everything . So why shouldn’t we destroy you first?” 

“So your answer to murder is murder?” You look over at him, the very embodiment of hate and rage, and realize something terrible must’ve happened to him to make him this way. “I don’t know anything about how they– we hurt you. But you’d fixate on me?” 

“That’s just my nature. You are insignificant in the grand scheme of things. It is what you represent that set you in my sights. We do what we can where we can, but it’s not enough. It’s never enough.” 

“So you came here to wreak wanton havok. Kill off a human or three to sate your need for revenge?” “Revenge?” He laughs derisively. “I am so far past revenge that you don’t even have a word for it. Our kind live long, and revenge is short lived. I am doing what I must .” 

“But you risked it all to be here. To kill insignificant me.” His jaw slams shut again, eyes burning with barely contained anger. You don’t want to provoke him again, but you want answers. It’s a deeply uncomfortable tightrope. 

“I don’t just let my marks walk away. I am not weak . You resisted somehow, and that isn’t something that I can have you breeding into the populace.” “Oh, ew! Do you think I’m just– just whoring it up on main?” “Well, from what I’ve seen–” “Go to hell.” 

You shove past him, into the bathroom where you carefully pick up the wadded ball of incriminating evidence before returning to the kitchen, throwing it in the soup of every godforsaken remedy of evidence destroying that you can think of, grabbing bleach for good measure. As you close the lid on the noxious concoction, you notice him staring at you again. 

“What are you, exactly?” 

You can’t help it. You need to know. It’s been weighing on your mind for weeks, and just when you think you grasp it, he turns everything on its head. 

“I’ve told you, you have no true word for it. Siren, I believe, is the closest thing you have to it. We never revealed ourselves to you intentionally.” “You did.” “Hmph.”

“So… Like beautiful women, singing on rocks to lure sailors to their deaths?” 

“Teenagers out for a midnight snack,” He rolls his eyes again. “Or sport. Even our kind get bored, and the younglings can be a bit reckless.” 

“There you go again, making yourself look like an old man,” You chortle. He opens his mouth to insult you, no doubt, but you cut him off. “But you– well, look human now– mostly. Legs and everything.” You gesture to his comedically ill-covered legs. 

“We are much more advanced than you. We can walk on land when we want , but we don’t because it’s filthy,” His face scrunches as he kicks his feet. “We are the true apex predators. We are faster, stronger, more intelligent, and more resilient. Your weak human biology won’t allow you a choice. We choose the ocean.”

“Does it– does it hurt? To change?” “Worse than anything you’ve ever experienced,” He deadpans. “Less so when it’s frequent, but I don’t make a habit of this .” 

“But you did it anyway? To be here?” 

Again, he falls silent, glaring you down with an intensity that makes you shift. 

“Well, thanks for being so candid with me, I guess. And for not using your abilities on me again.” You have so many more questions, but you’re edging too close to the water– no pun intended. You hope you get the opportunity to ask them before you wake with his hands around your throat. 

“Who says I won’t?” He blinks at you, face softening, and again, it hits you just how lovely he is. “You’re resistant– not immune.” 

“Stop it,” You snap at him, threatening him with a wooden spoon that you’ll almost certainly have to throw away after it’s cavorted with the damning evidence currently cooking on your stove. “You try it, you go to prison, remember?” 

“For now,” He stretches, suddenly seeming intent on making himself comfortable. “I’m hungry.” 

“Oh, that’s my problem now? Even after your beach fiasco? Didn’t you get your fill?”

“Yep. Your problem. And no, I told you, I was saving my hunger for you, you selfish brat.” 

“What am I, your mommy now? Cleaning up your messes, feeding you– Fucking– fine. Help yourself to anything in the fridge.” “I don’t want human food.” 

“Well. that’s what I got, so…” You gesture to yourself as if to say ‘ because I am human, dipshit .’

He makes a disgusted noise, but turns to rifle through your fridge. Judging by the sound he’s making, he’s not impressed. “Do you at least have any meat ? I can’t do whatever this is.” He throws a container to the floor, and you could strangle him. 

“Check the freezer– and pick that up!” 

He ignores you, throwing open your freezer with a careless motion before pulling out some raw, frozen steak you had tucked away. 

“If you want me to cook it, you’re going to have to wait. My stove is currently a crime scene, thanks.” 

“Cook? Foul. My stomach isn’t so weak as yours.” “Oh, please don’t tell me–” 

“I won’t eat it frozen if that’s what you’re wondering,” He chucks it onto the counter where it lands with a clack. 

“That is just so not what I was wondering.” 

Half an hour passes with a tense sort of silence. He flips between staring at you seemingly unblinkingly, and occasionally prodding at the thawing steak on the counter, eying it with both suspicion and slight disgust. Eventually it must thaw out enough for his liking, because he slices open the plastic with a quick flick of his nail, and immediately sinks his teeth into the raw cut. You are thinking the same thing he says. 

“This is disgusting,” He mashes it between his fangs. “You eat this?” “You eat people! Okay? You eat. People! And it’s fucking raw!” “Human is delectable, even raw,” He forces down another bite. “But I don’t suppose–” “No! I don’t have any bodies lying around for you to fucking eat!”

“Well, there is one –” 

“No.” “I’m amenable to either way,” He purrs, moving closer again. 

“I just watched you sink your teeth into raw cow. I have never been more turned off in my life– and even if I was , still no.” 

“We’ll see,” He shrugs, ripping another bite out. 

“We will see jack shit, that’s what we’ll see.” 

“And I need water.” “Sink is right there, and you’re a big boy.” “I can’t sleep in a sink.” “You–” You stop and stare at him incredulously. “You need water to sleep?” 

“Need? No. Want. It’s more comfortable.”

“So you’re really just going to fucking stay here, huh?” 

“Unless you want to go to human jail.” “It’s just jail.” “Whatever.” 

“Well, I had a goldfish once, and you’re welcome to try and fit in his terrarium– bowl” 

“Is that one of your jokes?” “Yes, and no,” You sigh, kneading your temples with your fingers. “I guess– fuck, fine, you can use the bathtub?” 

“Bathtub?” 

“Yes, sadly it’s the only thing I have that can accommodate his highnesses demands at my five-star hotel since he didn’t call ahead of time!” 

“Fine.” 

You carefully remove the pot from the stove, already mourning the loss of one of your favorite pieces of cookware as you dry out the clothes as best you can, dumping bleach on them before sealing them away in a garbage bag which you quickly wrap in several more garbage bags. You’ll need to dispose of it tomorrow, and quickly. Thankfully, you think you have a solution to both of your problems. 

“We’re going to the beach tomorrow night. You’re going home, and we’re burning this,” You kick at the bag on the floor. “No one will care in the dark. I’ll drive you to the beach, and be rid of both of my fucking issues at once.” “Told you I wasn’t leaving,” He yawns, flicking his tongue at his teeth. 

“You’re not moving in, and you can’t stay here forever, but God, can we please do this argument in the morning?” “We’ll see.” 

“Just shut up and get in the bathroom. I’m locking you in.” 

“Don’t trust me?” He grins, obviously amused at himself. 

“Not even fucking close. I’m not waking up with your fangs in my throat, thanks.” “You never know, you might like it.” “Can promise you that even if I was into it, I wouldn’t be into it with you.” “That’s hurtful,” He faux-pouts. “Didn’t your daddy ever teach you manners? Do I have to?” 

“Do not. Go there. Right now,” You growl at him. “I am exhausted, I am stressed, I am about to kill you myself.” “I welcome you to try. We could have a fun little session.” 

“Stop it. With the flirting.” 

“Nah,” He waves you off. “But I’m tired too, and your kitchen smells rancid.” “You just ate raw meat and you’re going to lecture me about– you know what? Fuck you.” 

Shoving him out of the way, you turn into the bathroom, flicking on the light and running lukewarm bathwater for your unwelcome houseguest. He enters behind you, watching as you shake your head and swear under your breath. He reaches to remove his shirt, and you just can’t have that. 

“Wait until I leave to get naked! And when I wake up in the morning, you’d better be fully dressed and out of my fucking tub. You will sit quietly until dark while I do what I need to do, and at sunset, we’re going to the beach. You are going home, and I am going to pretend this never happened.” 

“What if I like it here and don’t want to leave?” “I could not– and really hear me out here– care less.” “I told you I’m not going anywhere ‘til I get what I want,” He removes his shirt anyway, and you sigh, turning your head away. 

At this point, you are seriously considering having sex with him if it’ll just get him the fuck out of your hair. There’s the matter of what comes after, but you aren’t entertaining that thought ever . 

“Yes, well, life isn’t fair and I don’t want a siren renting out my bathroom.” 

“These things are coming off, so unless you want to stay and entertain me, I’d suggest you get out,” He slips his thumbs into the waistband of the pants, pulling them just below his V line. 

“Three seconds! Three goddamn seconds!” You shut off the water before standing up, covering your eyes. “Do not leave the bathroom until morning. Do not come near my room. Do not make a mess.” “Yes, mother .” 

“I’m serious. If I hear you come near, I’m shooting you.” He cackles, throwing his head back. “If you had one of those, you’d have tried to use it already.” 

You really wish you’d gotten your concealed right about now. You’d dump him in the trashbags with the other evidence. 

“Goodnight, Shigaraki,” You sneer. “I am so fucking serious, do not–” “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” 

You catch a glimpse of pale thigh before you slam the door shut, nearly collapsing against the door after you do. Your head is spinning and you hear him slip into the bath before you manage to make it down the hall, avoiding fractured pieces of your life that he’d managed to ruin in his short time here. A broken picture frame, a shattered mug, a fucked up bed– 

Things you’ll need to worry about tomorrow. 

You shut and lock your door, wedging a chair behind the knob for good measure. You doubt you’ll get any decent sleep knowing that the apex predator, as he calls himself, is lurking just outside the measly wooden frame, but it should be enough to actually wake you if he tries something. 

Flopping on the bed like a dehydrated starfish, you try very hard not to consider the day's events– or tomorrow’s. Right now is between you and your pillow finally after hours of insanity long beyond when you wanted to fall asleep initially. Maybe you’ll wake up in the morning and this will all have been a bad dream. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll get so lucky. 

Or maybe Shigaraki will make good on his threat while you slumber. 

“Just don’t wake me up for it,” You say out loud, muttering into your duvet. 

A dreamless sleep overtakes you, your mind too tired to even concoct anything more absurd than your life already is at the moment. 

[movedtoferinehuntress]

☾ *  ── CHARACTER AESTHETICS .

BOLD any which apply to your muse! Remember to REPOST! Feel free to add to the list.

i. 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑 .    red. brown. orange.  yellow. green.  blue. purple.  pink. black.  white. teal. silver. gold.  grey.  lilac. metallic. matte. royal blue. strawberry red. charcoal. grey. forest green. apple red. navy blue. crimson. cream.  mint green.

ii. 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐋 .    fire. ice. water. air. earth.  rain.  snow.  wind. moon. stars.  sun.  heat. cold. steam.  frost. lightening.  sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk.  twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset.  dewdrops.

iii. 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 .    claws. long fingers.  fangs.  teeth.  wings.  tails.  lips.  bare feet. freckles.  bruises. canine.  scars. scratches. ears. wounds.  burns. spikes.  feathers.  webs.  eyes.  hands.  sweat.  tears.  feline.  chubby.  curvy.  short. tall.  normal height.  muscular.  slender. trained. piercings.  tattoos. strong. weak.  shapeshifting.

iv. 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐑𝐘 .    fists. sword.  dagger.  spear.  scythe.  bow and arrow.  hammer.  shield.  poison.  guns.  axes.  throwing axes.  whips. knives. throwing knives.  pepper sprays.  tasers.  machine guns.  slingshots.  katanas.  maces.  staffs.  wands.  powers.  magical items.  magic. rocks.

v. 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐋 .    gold. silver. platinum. titanium.  diamonds.  pearls.  rubies.  sapphires. emeralds.  amethyst. metal.  iron. rust.  steel.  glass. wood.  porcelain.  paper.  wool.  fur.  lace. leather. copper. silk.  velvet. denim.  linen.  cotton.  charcoal.  clay.  stone. asphalt.  brick. marble. dust.  glitter.  blood. dirt.  mud. smoke.  ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics.  yarn.  slime.

vi. 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 .    grass.  leaves .  trees.  bark.  roses.  daisies.  tulips.  holly.  lavender. lilies. petals. thorns. seeds.  hay. sand.  rocks.  snow. ice.  roots.  flowers. ocean. river.  lake.  meadow.  forest.  desert.  tundra. savanna.  rain forest.  swamp.  caves.  underwater.  coral reef.beach. waves. space.  clouds.  mountains.  fungi.  cliffs.

vii. 𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐒 .    lions. wolves. tiger. black panther. eagles. owls.  falcons. hawks.  swans.  snakes. turtles.  ducks.  bugs.  roaches.  spiders.  birds.  whales.  dolphins.  fish.  sharks.  horses.  cats. dogs.  bunnies.  praying mantis.  crows.  ravens.  mice.  lizards.  frogs.  bears.  werewolves. unicorns.  pegasus.  dinosaurs.  dragons.

viii. 𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐃/𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊 .    sugar.  salt.  water.  candy.  bubblegum.  wine.  champagne. hard liquor.  beer.  coffee. tea.  spices.  herbs.  apple.  orange.  lemon.  cherry.  strawberry. watermelon. vegetables. fruits. meat. fish.  pies.  desserts. chocolate.  cream. caramel.  berries.   nuts. cinnamon. burgers. burritos.  pizza.

ix. 𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐁𝐈𝐄𝐒 .    music.  art.  watercolors.  gardening.  smithing.  sculpting.  painting. sketching. fighting.  fencing.  riding. writing. composing.  cooking. sewing.  training. dancing.  acting. singing. martial arts.  self-defense.  electronics.  technology. cameras.  video cameras.  video games. computer.  phone.  movies. theater. libraries.  books. magazines. poetry.  philosophy. cds. records.  vinyls.  cassettes.  piano.  violin.  cello. guitar.  electronic guitar. bass guitar.  harmonica.  synthesizers.  harp.  woodwinds.  brass. trumpet.  flute. drums.  bells. playing cards.  poker chips. chess. dice. motorcycle riding. eating.  climbing. running.

x. 𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄 .    lingerie.  armor. cape.  dress.  suit.  tunic. vest.  shirt. boots.  heels.  leggings. trousers.  jeans.  skirt.  jewelry.  earrings.  necklace.  bracelet. ring. pendant.  hat.  crown.  circlet. helmet. scarf. neck tie.  brocade.  cloaks.  corsets.  doublet.  chest plate.  gorget.  bracers.  belt. sash.  coat. jacket. hood.  gloves. socks. masks.  cowls.  braces.  watches. glasses. sun glasses.  visor.  eye contacts.  makeup.

xi. 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂 .    balloons.  bubbles.  cityscape. landscape. light.  dark.  candles.  war.  peace. money. power.  percussion.  clocks. photos.  mirrors.  pets.  diary.  fairy lights.  madness.  sanity.  sadness.  happiness.  optimism. pessimism.  loneliness. anger.  family. friends. assistants.  co-workers.  enemies.  lovers.  loyalty. smoking.  alcohol.  drugs.  kindness.  love. embracing.

[fallbefore]

shakespeare aesthetics.  ⋆ฺ࿐༊            bold:  always  applies.   italic:   sometimes  applies.

i. romeo & juliet,      suburban july.  scraped knees.  bruised knuckles.  blood in your teeth.  bare feet on hot concrete.  restlessness.  your high school’s empty parking lot.  love poems in your diary.  a window open to coax in the breeze.  burning inside.  an ill - fitting party dress.  a t - shirt you cut up yourself.  the time you tried to give yourself bangs.  biking to your friends house.  bubble gum.  gas station ice.  the feeling that you’ve met before.  rebellion.  a car radio playing down the street.  cheap fireworks.  a heart drawn on the inside of your wrist with a sharpie.  switchblades.  red solo cups.  dancing in your bedroom.  screaming yourself hoarse.  running out of options.  the forlorn looking basketball hoop at the end of a cul - de - sac.  climbing onto your roof at night while your parents are asleep.  flip - flops.  a eulogy written on loose - leaf.  the merciless noontime sun.

ii. hamlet,      speaking in a whisper.  holding your breath.  a browning garden. a half remembered story. furniture covered with sheets. fog at dawn.  mist at twilight. losing touch. the ethereal space between winter and spring. the soft skin at your temple. the crack in the hallway mirror.  things you’d say if you knew the words. uncombed hair. books with writing in the margins.  books with cracked spines. books with lines scratched out. prayers on all souls’ day.  a chipped ceramic bathtub. a cold stone floor.  the uncomfortable awareness of your own heartbeat.  the sparrow that got in your house.  shadows.  the creek you played in as a child.  a dirty night gown.  an oversized t - shirt.  a collection of your favorite words.  soil beneath your nails. ghost stories.  the strangeness of your own name in your mouth.  deep silence. exhaustion. a cliff with a long, long drop down.

iii. twelve night,      wicker deck furniture.  new england summer.  large sunglasses and a blonde bob.  a storm over the ocean.  patio umbrellas flapping in the wind.  the smell of chlorine.  muffled laughter.  sarcasm.  starched cuffs.  day drinking.  bay windows.  the idea of love.  love for the idea of love.  love for love’s sake.  hangovers.  wandering over the sand dunes.  a vagabond with a guitar.  fishermen with tattoos.  a pretty boy with a slacked tie.  a lighthouse.  growing too close.  boat shoes.  feeling yourself change.  big, floppy sunhats.  double - speak.  a song you keep listening to.  turning red under their gaze.  margaritas drank on an inflatable pool lounger.  string lights on a balmy night.  sleepy june days.  fights you’re unprepared for.  hope you weren’t expecting.  pranks that go too far.  bad poetry.  pining.  becoming less of a stranger.

iv. macbeth,      the space where your grief used to be.  a bird that’s lost an eye.  old blood stains.  heavy blinds.  the smell of sweat.  the stillness after a battle.  a fake smile.  a curse.  the taste of metal at the back of your tongue.  your house, unfamiliar in the dark.  a dusty crib.  the smell of sulfur.  an orange pill bottle.  streaks in the sink.  a black cocktail dress.  your hand on the doorknob, shaking.  a chilly breeze.  crunching from the gravel driveway on a moonless night.  clenched hands.  a rusty swing set.  a flashing digital clock stuck on 12:00.  a snake that crosses your path.  an owl that watches you.  a dog that runs when you approach.  red smoke, dark clouds.  cool steel.  tile floors.  footsteps in the hallway late at night.  a baggy suit that used to fit before.  visions.  insomnia headaches.  nursery rhymes.  being too far in to go back now.

v. much ado about nothing,      the high drama of small towns.  a pickup truck.  military supply duffel bags in the hall.  hugs all around.  tulip bulbs.  a wraparound porch.  a pitcher of iced tea.  a rubber halloween mask.  someone on your level.  ill - timed proclamations.  stomach clenching laughter.  rushing in.  not minding your business.  crepe paper.  white lies.  secrets written down and thrown away.  southern hospitality.  homemade curtains in the kitchen.  a sink full of roses.  hiding in the bushes.  old friends.  the wedding dress your grandma wore, and her mama before her.  a dog - eared rhyming dictionary.  chamomile with honey.  the intimacy of big parties.  lawn flamingos.  gossip.  a crowded church.  friendly rivalries.  unfriendly rivalries.  shit getting real.  love at five hundredth sight.  not realizing you’re home until you’re there.

vi. king lear,      cement block buildings.  power lines that birds never perch on.  the end of the world.  useless words.  rainless thunder, heat lighting, a too big sky.  arthritic knuckles.  broken glass.  chalk cliffs.  the pulsing red - black behind closed eyes.  something you learned too late.  wet mud that sucks up your shoes while you walk.  a cold stare.  empty picture frames.  empty prayers.  the obscenity of seeing your parents cry.  a treeless landscape.  bloody rags.  grappling in the dark with reaching hands.  the sharpness at the the tips of your teeth.  the blown out windows of a skeletal house.  decay.  jokes that aren’t jokes.  biting your tongue.  prophecies.  aching muscles, tired feet.  stinging rain.  invoking the gods.  wondering if the gods are listening.  worrying that the gods are dead.  white noise.  shivers.  numbness.  the unequivocal feeling of ending.

vii. midsummer's night dream,      the smell of wet soil and dead leaves.  listening to music on headphones with your eyes closed.  wildflowers.  the distant sparkle of lightning bugs.  a pill someone slipped you.  fear that turns into excitement.  excitement that turns to frenzy.  mossy tree trunks.  a pair of yellow eyes in the darkness.  night swimming.  moonlight through the leaves.  a bass beat in your chest.  a butterfly landing on your nose.  a kiss from a stranger.  a dark hallow in an old tree.  glow in the dark paint.  drinking on an empty stomach.  a twig breaking behind you.  spinning until you’re dizzy.  finding glitter on your body and not remembering where it came from.  an overgrown path through the woods.  cool dew on your skin.  a dream that fades with waking.  moths drawn to the light.  giving yourself over, completely.  afterglow.  the long, loving, velvety night.

tagged by;   @ashmored​​  ♡♡ tagging;   you, steal this and say i tagged you!

[ebnaril]

𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒.

i. romeo & juliet, suburban july. scraped knees. bruised knuckles. blood in your teeth. bare feet on hot concrete. restlessness. your high school’s empty parking lot. love poems in your diary. a window open to coax in the breeze. burning inside. an ill - fitting party dress. a t - shirt you cut up yourself. the time you tried to give yourself bangs. biking to your friends house. bubble gum. gas station ice. the feeling that you’ve met before. rebellion. a car radio playing down the street. cheap fireworks. a heart drawn on the inside of your wrist with a sharpie. switchblades. red solo cups. dancing in your bedroom. screaming yourself hoarse. running out of options. the forlorn looking basketball hoop at the end of a cul - de - sac. climbing onto your roof at night while your parents are asleep. flip - flops. a eulogy written on loose - leaf. the merciless noontime sun.

ii. hamlet, speaking in a whisper. holding your breath. a browning garden. a half remembered story. furniture covered with sheets. fog at dawn. mist at twilight. losing touch. the ethereal space between winter & spring. the soft skin at your temple. the crack in the hallway mirror. things you’d say if you knew the words. uncombed hair. books with writing in the margins. books with cracked spines. books with lines scratched out. prayers on all souls’ day. a chipped ceramic bathtub. a cold stone floor. the uncomfortable awareness of your own heartbeat. the sparrow that got in your house. shadows. the creek you played in as a child. a dirty night gown. an oversized t - shirt. a collection of your favorite words. soil beneath your nails. ghost stories. the strangeness of your own name in your mouth. deep silence. exhaustion. a cliff with a long, long drop down.

iii. twelfth night, wicker deck furniture. new england summer. large sunglasses & a blonde bob. a storm over the ocean. patio umbrellas flapping in the wind. the smell of chlorine. muffled laughter. sarcasm. starched cuffs. day drinking. bay windows. the idea of love. love for the idea of love. love for love’s sake. hangovers. wandering over the sand dunes. a vagabond with a guitar. fishermen with tattoos. a pretty boy with a slacked tie. a lighthouse. growing too close. boat shoes. feeling yourself change. big, floppy sunhats. double - speak. a song you keep listening to. turning red under their gaze. margaritas drank on an inflatable pool lounger. string lights on a balmy night. sleepy june days. fights you’re unprepared for. hope you weren’t expecting. pranks that go too far. bad poetry. pining. becoming less of a stranger.

iv. macbeth, the space where your grief used to be. a bird that’s lost an eye. old blood stains. heavy blinds. the smell of sweat. the stillness after a battle. a fake smile. a curse. the taste of metal at the back of your tongue. your house, unfamiliar in the dark. a dusty crib. the smell of sulfur. an orange pill bottle. streaks in the sink. a black cocktail dress. your hand on the doorknob, shaking. a chilly breeze. crunching from the gravel driveway on a moonless night. clenched hands. a rusty swing set. a flashing digital clock stuck on 12:00. a snake that crosses your path. an owl that watches you. a dog that runs when you approach. red smoke, dark clouds. cool steel. tile floors. footsteps in the hallway late at night. a baggy suit that used to fit before. visions. insomnia headaches. nursery rhymes. being too far in to go back now.

v. much ado about nothing, the high drama of small towns. a pickup truck. military supply duffel bags in the hall. hugs all around. tulip bulbs. a wraparound porch. a pitcher of iced tea. a rubber halloween mask. someone on your level. ill - timed proclamations. stomach clenching laughter. rushing in. not minding your business. crepe paper. white lies. secrets written down & thrown away. southern hospitality. homemade curtains in the kitchen. a sink full of roses. hiding in the bushes. old friends. the wedding dress your grandma wore, & her mama before her. a dog - eared rhyming dictionary. chamomile with honey. the intimacy of big parties. lawn flamingos. gossip. a crowded church. friendly rivalries. unfriendly rivalries. shit getting real. love at five hundredth sight. not realizing you’re home until you’re there.

vi. king lear, cement block buildings. power lines that birds never perch on. the end of the world. useless words. rainless thunder, heat lighting, a too big sky. arthritic knuckles. broken glass. chalk cliffs. the pulsing red - black behind closed eyes. something you learned too late. wet mud that sucks up your shoes while you walk. a cold stare. empty picture frames. empty prayers. the obscenity of seeing your parents cry. a treeless landscape. bloody rags. grappling in the dark with reaching hands. the sharpness at the the tips of your teeth. the blown out windows of a skeletal house. decay. jokes that aren’t jokes. biting your tongue. prophecies. aching muscles, tired feet. stinging rain. invoking the gods. wondering if the gods are listening. worrying that the gods are dead. white noise. shivers. numbness. the unequivocal feeling of ending.

vii. midsummer's night dream, the smell of wet soil & dead leaves. listening to music on headphones with your eyes closed. wildflowers. the distant sparkle of lightning bugs. a pill someone slipped you. fear that turns into excitement. excitement that turns to frenzy. mossy tree trunks. a pair of yellow eyes in the darkness. night swimming. moonlight through the leaves. a bass beat in your chest. a butterfly landing on your nose. a kiss from a stranger. a dark hallow in an old tree. glow in the dark paint. drinking on an empty stomach. a twig breaking behind you. spinning until you’re dizzy. finding glitter on your body & not remembering where it came from. an overgrown path through the woods. cool dew on your skin. a dream that fades with waking. moths drawn to the light. giving yourself over, completely. afterglow. the long, loving, velvety night.

[starblazes-a]

shakespeare aesthetics.  bold:  always  applies.   italic:   sometimes  applies.

i. romeo & juliet,      suburban july.  scraped knees.  bruised knuckles.  blood in your teeth.  bare feet on hot concrete.  restlessness.  your high school’s empty parking lot.  love poems in your diary.  a window open to coax in the breeze.  burning inside.  an ill - fitting party dress.  a t - shirt you cut up yourself.  the time you tried to give yourself bangs.  biking to your friends house.  bubble gum.  gas station ice.  the feeling that you’ve met before.  rebellion.  a car radio playing down the street.  cheap fireworks.  a heart drawn on the inside of your wrist with a sharpie.  switchblades.  red solo cups.  dancing in your bedroom.  screaming yourself hoarse.  running out of options.  the forlorn looking basketball hoop at the end of a cul - de - sac.  climbing onto your roof at night while your parents are asleep.  flip - flops.  a eulogy written on loose - leaf.  the merciless noontime sun.

ii. hamlet,      speaking in a whisper.  holding your breath.  a browning garden. a half remembered story. furniture covered with sheets. fog at dawn.  mist at twilight. losing touch. the ethereal space between winter and spring. the soft skin at your temple. the crack in the hallway mirror.  things you’d say if you knew the words. uncombed hair. books with writing in the margins.  books with cracked spines. books with lines scratched out. prayers on all souls’ day.  a chipped ceramic bathtub. a cold stone floor.  the uncomfortable awareness of your own heartbeat.  the sparrow that got in your house.  shadows.  the creek you played in as a child.  a dirty night gown.  an oversized t - shirt.  a collection of your favorite words.  soil beneath your nails. ghost stories.  the strangeness of your own name in your mouth.  deep silence. exhaustion. a cliff with a long, long drop down.

iii. twelfth night,      wicker deck furniture.  new england summer.  large sunglasses and a blonde bob.  a storm over the ocean.  patio umbrellas flapping in the wind.  the smell of chlorine.  muffled laughter.  sarcasm.  starched cuffs.  day drinking.  bay windows.  the idea of love.  love for the idea of love.  love for love’s sake.  hangovers.  wandering over the sand dunes.  a vagabond with a guitar.  fishermen with tattoos.  a pretty boy with a slacked tie.  a lighthouse.  growing too close.  boat shoes.  feeling yourself change.  big, floppy sunhats.  double - speak.  a song you keep listening to.  turning red under their gaze.  margaritas drank on an inflatable pool lounger.  string lights on a balmy night.  sleepy june days.  fights you’re unprepared for.  hope you weren’t expecting.  pranks that go too far.  bad poetry.  pining.  becoming less of a stranger.

iv. macbeth,      the space where your grief used to be.  a bird that’s lost an eye.  old blood stains.  heavy blinds.  the smell of sweat.  the stillness after a battle.  a fake smile.  a curse.  the taste of metal at the back of your tongue.  your house, unfamiliar in the dark.  a dusty crib.  the smell of sulfur.  an orange pill bottle.  streaks in the sink.  a black cocktail dress.  your hand on the doorknob, shaking.  a chilly breeze.  crunching from the gravel driveway on a moonless night.  clenched hands.  a rusty swing set.  a flashing digital clock stuck on 12:00.  a snake that crosses your path.  an owl that watches you.  a dog that runs when you approach.  red smoke, dark clouds.  cool steel.  tile floors.  footsteps in the hallway late at night.  a baggy suit that used to fit before.  visions.  insomnia headaches.  nursery rhymes.  being too far in to go back now.

v. much ado about nothing,      the high drama of small towns.  a pickup truck.  military supply duffel bags in the hall.  hugs all around.  tulip bulbs.  a wraparound porch.  a pitcher of iced tea.  a rubber halloween mask.  someone on your level.  ill - timed proclamations.  stomach clenching laughter.  rushing in.  not minding your business.  crepe paper.  white lies.  secrets written down and thrown away.  southern hospitality.  homemade curtains in the kitchen.  a sink full of roses.  hiding in the bushes.  old friends.  the wedding dress your grandma wore, and her mama before her.  a dog - eared rhyming dictionary.  chamomile with honey.  the intimacy of big parties.  lawn flamingos.  gossip.  a crowded church.  friendly rivalries.  unfriendly rivalries.  shit getting real.  love at five hundredth sight.  not realizing you’re home until you’re there.

vi. king lear,      cement block buildings.  power lines that birds never perch on.  the end of the world.  useless words.  rainless thunder, heat lighting, a too big sky.  arthritic knuckles.  broken glass.  chalk cliffs.  the pulsing red - black behind closed eyes.  something you learned too late.  wet mud that sucks up your shoes while you walk.  a cold stare.  empty picture frames.  empty prayers.  the obscenity of seeing your parents cry.  a treeless landscape.  bloody rags.  grappling in the dark with reaching hands.  the sharpness at the the tips of your teeth.  the blown out windows of a skeletal house.  decay.  jokes that aren’t jokes.  biting your tongue.  prophecies.  aching muscles, tired feet.  stinging rain.  invoking the gods.  wondering if the gods are listening.  worrying that the gods are dead.  white noise.  shivers.  numbness.  the unequivocal feeling of ending.

vii. midsummer's night dream,      the smell of wet soil and dead leaves.  listening to music on headphones with your eyes closed.  wildflowers.  the distant sparkle of lightning bugs.  a pill someone slipped you.  fear that turns into excitement.  excitement that turns to frenzy.  mossy tree trunks.  a pair of yellow eyes in the darkness.  night swimming.  moonlight through the leaves.  a bass beat in your chest.  a butterfly landing on your nose.  a kiss from a stranger.  a dark hallow in an old tree.  glow in the dark paint.  drinking on an empty stomach.  a twig breaking behind you.  spinning until you’re dizzy.  finding glitter on your body and not remembering where it came from.  an overgrown path through the woods.  cool dew on your skin.  a dream that fades with waking.  moths drawn to the light.  giving yourself over, completely.  afterglow.  the long, loving, velvety night.

stolen from;   @loetise tagging;   if you see this, you're tagged!

[mnero]

Memento Vivere

Balance is a crippled umbrella  

propped and staged

Legs cracked into a capital V

-Vae Victis

Greater than the sum  

of approximate wisdom  

A four-sided limbo boxed in perpetuity  

Weekly therapy shots thaw out as

cubicles transcend from room to room

documenting candles erode  

into nebulous rapture

A timeless stop watch set  

to the senility of a cell tower

Condolences and proverbs course

through weeping mirrors

as the forsaken data is left

to choke on the thumbs of gratuity

You walk You fly You drive

luminous and uninhibited until you slam

into a belligerent oblivion

pro-rated and locked in the  

gridlock of convalescence  

The juggernaut of all impediments

An event-horizon of meta-analysis

superimposed, stalking  

with random precision

This monopoly of wreckage unsuspecting

coiled in the common brush

set its indifferent sights on the most

undeserving of victim

Invaluable treasures always amass unwelcome oxidation

I still can't wrap my conscious spirit around this hieroglyphic labyrinth

And I detest those pitiless waiting rooms and their impotent white walls

I hate those arthritic chairs

Faceless Blatant Explicit

This entire place is an abyss

of countless broken hearts

bleeding recycled grief dangling

from centrifugal vines

Like an odyssey with no destination

A guide devoid of direction

The Gehenna where empty pockets

beg for more time

and the sun seems to never rise

I try to imagine myself rooted to  

the wasteland of a hospital cot

to corral some modicum of perspective

but it's easier to smoke a solar flare

than to prime my mind for what

you were forced to endure

Just the mere thought drives ingots

through my glass shield

I can still feel our farewells echoing

through the hallucination hallways

of your IV and monitoring machines

Don't you give up now! No wait,

that is fucking selfish of me

Fanged fingerprints will forever resist

the cornucopia of silent ancestors

Fortitude is a kinetic force that you were

able to harness with sequined vigor

Twilights flickered and swerved

marring the fickle pride of Thanatos

backtracking in figure eights

The kiss of kismet was fated to wait

a few more days

a few more months

a few years

When we've reached the peaks of vocation

And absorbed the stillness of depth

No burden will crack our resolve

No affliction  

And no death

This chain is sound and absolute

And I will carry the flag

Resolute  

-Mike Nero

[hyperdxntia]

BOLD WHAT APPLIES TO YOUR CHARACTER.

[COLORS] red. crimson. vermilion. tomato. burgundy. brown. tan. beige. ochre. sienna. orange. peach. tangerine. marigold. amber. yellow. citrine. mustard. butter. daffodil. green. lime. mint. emerald. olive. blue. royal blue. teal. navy. sky. purple. lilac. mauve. plum. amethyst. pink. coral. magenta. rose. blush. black. jet. ebony. licorice. bistre. white. ivory. snow. vanilla. champagne. grey. dove grey. charcoal grey. slate. ash. pastels. jewel tones.

[ELEMENTS] fire. ice. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam. frost. lightning. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops. fog. wood.

[BODY] claws. long fingers. fangs. teeth. wings. tails. lips. bare feet. freckles. bruises. canines. scars. scratches. wounds. burns. spikes. fur. feathers. scales. webs. eyes. hands. sweat. tears. cheekbones. feline. pointed ears. chubby. curvy. short. tall. muscular. slender. trained. piercings. tattoos. strong. weak. struggling. athletic. lithe. curls.

[WEAPONS] fists. sword. dagger. spear. scythe. bow and arrow. hammer. shield. poison. guns. axes. words. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. pepper sprays. phasers. pistols. machine guns. slingshots. katana. maces. staff. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. mud balls. peace. rifles. cannons. mind.

[MATERIALS] gold. silver. platinum. copper. bronze. iron. rust. steel. titanium. diamonds. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. amethyst. quartz. metals. glass. shell. bone. wood. porcelain. paper. wool. fur. lace. leather. silk. satin. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. brick. marble. ichor. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. vinyl. carbon nanotubes. circuits. vibranium. adamantium.

[NATURE] grass. leaves. trees. bark. roses. daisies. tulips. lavender. petals. thorns. seeds. hay. sand. rocks. stream. roots. flowers. ocean. river. meadow. forest. desert. tundra. savanna. rainforest. caves. underwater. coral reef. beach. waves. space. clouds. mountains. woods. hills. highlands. islands.

[ANIMALS] lions. tigers. wolves. panthers. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. vultures. swans. snakes. turtles. ducks. bugs. spiders. songbirds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. deer. dogs. rabbits. mantises. crows. ravens. mice. jackals. lizards. werewolves. unicorns. pegasus. dragons. foxes. phoenixes. peacocks. coyote. bears. seals.

[FOODS/DRINKS] sugar. salt. candy. wine. champagne. hard liquor. beer. coffee. tea. soda. spices. herbs. apple. citrus. raspberry. cherry. strawberry. watermelon. vegetables. gingerbread. fruits. meat. fish. pies. desserts. chocolate. cream. caramel. berries. nuts. cinnamon. stew. venison. rice. ambrosia. bread.

[HOBBIES] music. art. gardening. smithing. sculpting. painting. sketching. fighting. fencing. reading. writing. composing. cooking. sewing. training. dancing. acting. singing. martial arts. self-defense. technology. swimming. theater. libraries. magazines. piano. violin. cello. guitar. lute. mandolin. bass guitar. harmonica. harp. woodwinds. brass. trumpet. flute. drums. bells. playing cards. poker chips. chess. dice. eating. climbing. running. hiking. stargazing. fortune-telling.

[STYLE] lingerie. armor. cape. dress. suit. tunic. vest. shirt. boots. barefoot. heels. leggings. trousers. khakis. jeans. skirt. shorts. earrings. necklace. collar. bracelet. ring. pendant. hat. crown. circlet. helmet. scarf. neck tie. brocade. cloaks. corsets. doublet. chest plate. bracers. belt. layers. bandana. sash. coat. jacket. hood. gloves. socks. masks. cowls. braces. sweaters. watches. glasses. sunglasses. visors. eye contacts. makeup. implant. artificial parts. robes. t-shirts. henleys. athletic shirt. joggers. tennis shoes. cargo pants. shawl.

[MISC] balloons. bubbles. cityscape. landscape. seascape. light. dark. candles. war. peace. money. power. percussion. clocks. photos. mirrors. pets. diary. fairy lights. madness. sanity. sadness. happiness. fatigue. energetic. manipulation. faith. optimism. pessimism. realism. loneliness. family. friends. chronic pain. assistants. somnambulism. co-workers. enemies. loyalty. devotion. smoking. drugs. drinking. kindness. love. hugs. time. questions

tagged by: yoinked it from @lovsiik​ 

tagging: yoink it from me, cowards

[urbanteeth]

Fluffcember 2019

Hosted by: @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword @siarven @raiswanson

Notes: ay I’m lowkey late in this but! It’s here and it’s done! Some angst but it’s in general v Soft and uhh I’m actually pretty proud of it!

Character: Oliver West

Word Count: 1193

Boats & Birds // Gregory And The Hawk

The cold wind nipped at Oliver’s nose and cheeks and frosted his breath as it left his body in a deep sigh of contentment. Hands tucked into his pockets, he strolled down the sidewalk under a sky still existing in the liminal blue of twilight. Autumn still crowned the trees in gold and crimson but hints of snow powdered days tip-toed in on cloudy white paws, lengthening the dark of night bit by bit as season slipped away. Already, lights twinkled from windows and wrapped around mailboxes. The air of festivity smelled like burning wood smoke trailing lazily from chimneys, hummed quietly in bursts of dizzying excitement as sleepy families stirred from their warm beds. The holidays brought as much chaos as they did rest and the job always tasted so much more bitter in the winter.

Becoming jaded, detaching himself from the job, was not a shield he wanted to raise. But sometimes, sometimes, the pavement stained red too deeply and the final, terrible, anguished plea stared back from eyes too much like glass and the gut-wrenching cries of the unfortunate first to get the news haunted his mind when the silence was too void-like black, consuming. Sometimes, he welcomed the tiny seed of misanthropy that settled roots in his chest.

But always, Oliver never wanted to cultivate it. He couldn’t bring himself to peacefully coexist with the weed that sprung from those tiny roots. Oh, it would be easy, so easy, to let it grow as it would. And yet, he’d seen too many hollow eyes, some living with hardly a distinction from the dead, to know better, to grow instead an active fear of the yawning, hungry void.

So, when the days shortened and the cold winds descended from the mountains, howling their lonesome despair, and the job began to look a little meaner, he’d do a little gardening of the soul.

Weaving his way around an army of potted plants, herbs, a handful of fruit trees, he felt the warmth wrapping the tiny house before he even pushed open the door made rough from paint chipping off in big, coral pink flakes.

Immediately, arms pulled him close and squeezed, Korean permeated with joy filling his ears, tugging an ear to ear grin from his lips.

“Hi, momma,” he said with a laugh, wrapping his arms tightly around her.

She gathered his hands in her own, placing hers over his to defrost his fingers. He stooped a little lower for her to press a kiss against his forehead. “Oh, let me look at you!” She cupped his face, her hands rough and calloused but oh so warm against his skin, taking in his smile, cheeks red from the cold. “Just as I thought,” she said gravely, patting his cheeks. “Handsome as ever. Let’s get you warmed up.”

“Aw, you know I learned from the best.” He followed her to the small table pushed up against one of the big windows overviewing the town’s massive mirror-like lake. Oliver settled into one of the chairs, his mother disappearing back into the kitchen and reappearing with two steaming mugs of fragrant tea. She pushed one in his direction before taking a sip from her own.

“Talk to me, Ollie. What’s wrong?”

Oliver looped his fingers around the mug’s handle and cradled it in his hands, breathing in the spicy scent of ginger. “What do you mean?” He tilted his head, careful to keep his tone light and cheery.

His mother sat across from him and set her mug to the side, hands folding together, her joy at seeing him diminishing into a soft worry playing over her features. “Oh come on, Ollie! What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t know when something was bothering my son?”

He set the mug down, hesitant, half-torn. For a moment he imagined letting the ugliness in his chest spill like blood. But he couldn’t do that to her, his loving momma who he knew worried deeply about him every time he was called out to a scene, who would stay up with him without ever asking why, who both cried with him when he found himself falling, falling, falling and helped him pick the pieces off the floor.Tough as she was, he wouldn’t allow it to plague her as it did him. “I...I can’t really talk about it.”

But he knew from the way his hurt reflected in her eyes that she knew. He didn’t have to say it. “Does it have to do with your work?”

Silence grew and stretched between them and Oliver found himself staring at his hands, unsure at how to fill it. “It’s just…” he began, then stopped. How could he begin to give the ugliness a name when he himself barely recognized the inner workings? “It hurts, momma,” he finally breathed, unable to keep the quiver out of his voice, “to know people can– can do… all of that.”

“Oh, Ollie.” She slipped his hand in between hers, squeezing gently. And in a moment as quick and sharp as a snap of someone’s fingers, he was 17 again, sitting at the same table, his mother running a thumb softly over bruised knuckles. He traced the wood grain with his eyes. If he looked at her, he’d be truly in danger of crying.

“How can people do such horrible things?”

She sighed. “Oh...I wish I could have an answer for that, Oliver. Some people simply choose to be cruel.” She paused and ran her thumb over his knuckles. “But, here’s what I do know. You, sweetheart? You and that big heart of yours? The world thrives because of people like you.”

“Do you...do you think so?” He swallowed around the lump forming in his throat.

“I might not have a fancy college degree, but this I know to be true. Every day you choose not to be cruel is a day you have already won. Don’t ever let anyone tell you this heart of yours doesn’t make a difference, my son.”

He blinked, vision blurring from watery tears threatening to come spilling forward. He cleared his throat, wrestling back the tears, the corners of his mouth upturning into a smile instead. “Thank you.”

She gave his hand a final pat before releasing him. “Well? Are you hungry?”

“Oh, man. For your cooking? Always.”

“Think you can handle making an egg this time, hmm?” Her eyes glittered with an amused light.

He scoffed, sniffing and wiping his eyes on his sleeve. “I’m hurt. I’m the Gordon Ramsey of cooking eggs.”

Together, they fell into routine, every step and every breath and every quip and laugh weaving into a blanket of familiar comfort. The ease of being together, their work one born from love, the feeling of finally, finally coming home bloomed like summer in his chest. Outside, a low, rising sun gilded the sky in peach and gold and pink.

“I love you, momma.”

“I love you too, Ollie.”

And sometimes, the world was simply that: a bowl of rice, the scent of cooking meat, and eggs cracked and sizzling in a pan, all while outside, the day began anew.

TTW Taglist (click here to be added): @cluelessbuttercup @dogwrites @goldfinvhs @tragedyshow @tenacious-scripturient @diwrites @mirror-of-too-many-books @isanyonetoknow @makealltheboymoosegowahhh @waterproof-pages @velvetinewitch @wreckageofus @thewalkingnerdx @woodhouse-jay @writeouswriter @dashy-mcdasher @drist-n-dither @klywrites

[renzywenzy]

Joker Review

*Disclaimer* I held off posting this review until Phoenix won the Oscar. I promised myself that if he hadn’t won, I would have just left this in the drafts forever. That’s how much faith I had in this man and now here is my critique of my favorite film of 2019. 

I have a tattoo on my right arm. The tattoo is actually the Batman logo but altered. One half of the logo is normal but the other half is made up of red “HAHAHAHA’s” all over. There’s a reason why the dynamic between these two is my favorite of all-time. It’s two different interpretations of insanity colliding in an eternal battle. It’s two iconic, well-written, captivating characters having epic confrontations. 

Needless to say, I love the characters of Batman and The Joker. I grew up on them and they have played a huge part of my life. My ideologies, my way of thinking, my perception of the world, my behavior in private and in public have been directly and/or indirectly impacted by these two characters.

Any film or any form of media that have these two, separate or together, is already met with my high expectations. So obviously, my expectations for this film were through the roof. If this film was nothing short of great, I would have been really angry. 

I would have been the first to say how disappointed I was, I would have been the first to say that Joaquin Phoenix should never play The Joker again, I would have been the first to say that Todd Philips should stick to raunchy comedies and stay away from the character as far as possible....but that’s not the case here. 

I’m singing a different tune. A tune that I’m gonna be letting everyone hear with every chance I get. A tune that I’m gonna be playing in my head whenever I dance on the street. 

Ladies and gentlemen... please welcome Joker.

The Tragedy

First of all, I’ll begin with some faults that I found in the film. Not a whole lot but I have to get these out of the way so that I can end the review with high points. 

1.) The origin story we didn’t want but the one we got anyway

Now when I talk about origin story, I don’t mean Joker’s. I mean Batman’s. I’m really sorry to say but I am getting absolutely sick of seeing THAT scene. 

I have to point out that it felt like this scene was rushed. It wasn’t shot as well as the other scenes. Every other scene in Joker felt like there was a beautiful story behind it. As if there was a creative progress going through the minds of the people in the scene and off the camera but this scene felt rushed and was treated like an afterthought. 

I must admit, of all the films that showed Bruce’s parents in the alley, this one might be one of the weakest I’ve seen in a while. Even that piece of garbage Batman V. Superman had a slightly better way of showing that scene. If you’re going to show us a scene that’s been overly done since the beginning of Batman films, you gotta add a little more flavor and cinematic flair to it. Sad to say that for a film that was shot so well, this scene stuck out like a sore thumb. 

2.) A little too much dancing and a few too many ribs

As it says in the point, there’s a little too much there.  Don’t get me wrong, I love most of his dance scenes but there’s maybe 1 or 2 too many. I personally would have kept the first dance scene when accidentally shoots a gun, the one after his first kill, the one with his mother, and all the dance scenes once he completely transforms. These particular dance scenes were showing us a slow evolution and allowed to see how his mind was slowly changing. But there were a few dance scenes that didn’t really do that and instead was just kind of there. For example, the few dance scenes where he’s half-naked can be taken out completely and it wouldn’t make a difference. 

And speaking of him being half-naked. I understand the film wants us to see how weak he his and in some scenes, it wants to show you the literal scars he got from society. However in some of these scenes, it gets a little distracting. The first scene where he’s half naked and trying to adjust his shoe is just perfect because for one, you don’t know really know what he’s doing at first so it leaves you wondering for a few seconds and two, you get to see how much his frail body struggles with something so simple. 

But then you have a few scenes where he’s unnecessary shirtless like the one where he’s smoking and watching TV. It seemed needless for him to be shirtless for this scene because the main point of it was his reaction towards what was being shown on TV. Again, it’s no problem to show us how skinny and weak he looks but it has to be the point or a point of a scene or else it’s just distracting.

Small gripes but I had to find some criticisms for the film. But now that that’s out of the way, let’s put a smile on that face (I know they’re not the same. Just be like Joe and Chill).

The Comedy 

1.) Romero, Nicholson, Ledger, Hamill, and now...

 ...Phoenix

There have been numerous people who have played the Joker with each actor adding their own twist to the Clown Prince of Crime. Romero embodied the camp and goofiness of the Silver Age iteration, Nicholson provided a more laid-back and mafia-esque performance, Ledger portrayed him as a true anarchist who “wants to watch the world burn”, and the legendary Hamill basically performed multiple layers of Joker’s persona for his 20+ years as the character and is THE definitive voice (and laugh) of The Joker. 

Joaquin Phoenix joins this hall of fame (or infamy) by giving us a closer, more in-depth look at the mentally ill, physically battered, and emotionally abandoned man behind the smile. 

I honestly can’t give this guy the praise he really deserves but I’ll do my best. My lord...this man blew me away like I was a talk-show host. Powerhouse performance doesn’t even begin to describe his acting. 

This film, as well-made as it was, wouldn’t have worked nearly as well had it not been for its main star. This film hinged on how well Mr. Phoenix played the titular character and he absolutely delivered.

The film had a tough job in its hands: portray how a man was slowly dissenting into madness to the point that he lets the madness in and indulges in it. It was going to be a deliberately slow process that required an actor who can be significantly subtle enough to convey to the audience how a character is evolving but taking small steps to do so. Phoenix did that with flying colors. 

If you look at the first scene where we’re introduced to Arthur, it’s clearly not the same Arthur when the film reaches its ending. We went from a man who walks with a slouch and a noticeable stiffness to a man who vigorously dances in the streets without a care in the world. 

Don’t get it twisted, though. Phoenix didn’t play two different people nor did he play a man who takes a sudden huge leap in his personality. He played a person who displays slight changes to his psyche in each scene and these small changes eventually pile up. Arthur was meant to be a man who was layered like an onion and Phoenix’s performance mirrored that perfectly. 

Is he the best Joker? I can’t say that. Each Joker I’ve been introduced to, while having a different spin, is ultimately the Joker at his peak or even at the twilight of his criminal life. This is the first time where I’ve witnessed a Joker who is still truly staring out. And no, Nicholson doesn’t count because Jack Napier was an established criminal way before he became the Joker. So I’m not too sure yet where to rank Phoenix’s actual full-blown Joker as it doesn’t last long however excellent it was AND a huge factor for me when it comes to ranking Jokers is the interactions with Batman. There was no Joker and Batman clash here. Only Arthur and Bruce. As it stands, Phoenix’s spot on the all-time Joker list may not be the highest but in terms of pure acting, he may very well be #1. 

I know this sentiment has been repeated multiple times but I do honestly believe Phoenix deserved the Oscar here or at least a nod. 

2.) Familiar punchline, fresh set-up 

For any Batman/Joker fan, you’ve probably heard of this following quote:

“If I’m going to have a past, I prefer it to be multiple choice.” 

It’s an iconic quote and one that you will hear in almost any review of this film but there is a good reason for it. The line encapsulates one of the best things about The Joker: the mystery of his origins. 

As mysterious as the character is, it’s hard to keep The Joker interesting these days. He is the most over-exposed Batman villain of all time and quite possibly the most over-exposed villain in fiction period. Comic books, video games, tv shows, live-action movies. The Joker has been in EVERYTHING. Like his heroic counterpart, the Joker has been exposed too much to the point that there’s really not a lot of fresh things you can do with him.  

The last time any media brought something refreshing to The Joker was in Telltale’s Batman video game where you meet a man named “John Doe” who’s still looking for himself and finding out which path in life he wants to take. In the game, whatever John becomes is based on your actions. That was in 2017. 

The last time before that was in 2011′s Flashpoint where Martha Wayne became The Joker in an alternate timeline where Bruce dies in the alley. Even though this version of the Joker had a clear backstory and no mysterious origin, it was still fresh because of the sheer novelty of seeing Bruce Wayne’s mother as The Joker and his father as Batman.

So there are stretches of time where there’s nothing new and exciting for The Joker character but I’m happy to say that this film does breathe new life into the character. 

The filmmakers understood how this specific character should be handled and they did it in ways that are plausible. His abusive but vague childhood and his delusions help in keeping the film from being straightforward. 

Let me give some examples. In the scene where Arthur steals his mother’s files in the Asylum, it’s said that he was adopted by Penny and that he was abused by one of her boyfriends. 

Some people I’ve talked to believe that it was Thomas Wayne who put Penny in the Asylum and forged adoption papers. Some people even say that it was Thomas Wayne who abused them when Arthur was a child. Some people say that it’s true and Arthur really was adopted. 

We don’t know these things definitively and that’s the best part. It’s whatever you want it to be. Multiple choice. 

I personally want to believe that Arthur really was adopted because that just adds another air of mystery to him. If he was then we don’t know his actual birth name or who is real parents are.  

All in all, even though the evolution of Arthur into The Joker remains the ultimate goal, the film lets you make up your own path into how he got there. It’s handled beautifully and the script is clearly made with a lot of knowledge of and love for the character. 

3. A problem tackled with grace

I just wanted to point how well this film handles the issue of mental health and illness. This topic will forever be relevant and is an issue that’s been tackled in media before. Some handled it terribly, some handled it bad, some handled it ok, some handled it well. And then there’s Joker that handles it amazingly. 

As someone who sees mental illness on a regular basis, it was so sublime how accurate this film was. The image of a decaying mind and one that descends further and further down is so powerful in this film and it just never half-asses it and I loved that. 

My girlfriend is a nurse and she interacts with mentally ill people far more than I ever will and she praised it more because everything she saw from Arthur is something that she has personally had to deal with in her patients. I asked her if there was even one inaccurate and she said “No” because everything was completely plausible and has actually happened in real life on multiple occasions. Delusions of grandeur, uncontrollable ticks (like a laugh), murderous tendency, self-harm, stalking, hallucinating, you name it and most likely, this film shows it. 

Not only is Arthur’s mental illness accurate but what makes it better and why I praise it is how others deal with him. It’s scary how much it mirrors reality. Some people may know how to interact with him while others just get annoyed with him. Even those who are accepting of mentally ill people can still have be irritated with them when they come in contact with them. 

Arthur is beaten not just because he’s mentally ill but because he just looks like a weak man who can be pushed around. People don’t care if he’s sick, they’ll kick his ass or make fun of him regardless and in some cases, they’ll have even more incentive when they learn he has mental problems which is sadly similar to the world we live in today.

Joker is arguably the best adaption of mental illness for this decade (I say arguably because Bojack Horseman is up there) and I can’t believe that the director of the Hangover films got it right and speaking of which...

4. He directed what??

Todd Philips, the man behind the Hangover trilogy, Starsky and Hutch (2004), and Old School directed this film. Imagine late 2018 and you just heard who the director was and you search for the films he directed prior. Did you honestly believe, in your heart of hearts, he was going to pull this off?

Don’t get me wrong, comedic talents have proven to excel in other genres. Jordan Peele is a great example of that but that doesn’t necessarily apply to every comedian...However, it applied to Mr. Philips. 

His direction, his vision, his execution was top-notch and I have to apologize to this man because I honestly doubted him when I initially heard about it. I knew Phoenix was going to do well and I thought that the film would just rely solely on his performance but no. Todd Philips deserves a lot of credit here. Yes, he takes some ideas and cues from Scorsese (not a bad inspiration by the way) but he handles the psychological aspect in his own style.

In terms of performers, this was close to a one-man show as you can get but Philips’ contributions behind-the-scenes should to be given as much appreciation. Phoenix was the master painter and Philips gave him the tools.

Honestly, if Philips wants to direct more dramatic and heavier films akin to this, I’m all for it. If he wants to stick around and maybe direct some more DC films, I am definitely on board. In this time of uncertainty towards DC films, Philips gave me hope. Yes, I know this film isn’t part of the DCEU but if they want to create more films in the Elseworld universe, Philips should still be part of it in some way. 

5. The sound of laughter

I’m not going to lie. I rarely appreciate film scores. While I do believe they enhance a film’s quality, I’m not actively seeking it out unless it truly stands out. The only scores I truly remember and appreciate is the opening score for Star Wars, the Superman score, the main score for Indiana Jones, the Back to The Future action sequence score, Danny Elfman’s Batman score, and all of the scores from The Godfather films. 

By the way I realized the first three examples I gave all sound similar but it makes sense since John Williams made them all.

So out of the hundreds (possibly thousands) of films I’ve seen, these are the only scores I can truly remember and now we add one more to the list: the dark and beautiful score by Hildur Guðnadóttir. 

She absolutely gave me a much better understanding of how music can not only enhance a scene but be worked around it. Apparently, the music was made first and Todd Philips would shoot scenes with the score playing in the background so that he can craft scenes based on which part of the score he was listening to. This is the first time something like this has ever happened in the filmmaking process and it absolutely worked wonders. No wonder why each scene tied in so beautifully to a specific part of the score.

Hildur has made it and I hope to hear more of her work in future projects. 

6. To a bright future (hopefully)...

This section is more of a call to action than a positive point for the film. That being said, Joker’s success has opened up many possibilities for DC films moving forward. 

Let’s be honest here. The recent attempt of DC keeping up with Marvel in terms of films has not been great. DC is Marvel’s biggest competitor but when you just look purely at movie success, you wouldn’t think that.

That’s because Marvel started something solid over a decade ago and is currently having the biggest and most epic film franchise today and, quite possible, of all time. 

DC tried (and is still trying) to do the same but it has been a roller-coaster with some enjoyable ups (Man of Steel, Wonder Woman, Shazam) and terrible downs (Batman V. Superman, Justice League, Suicide Squad, Birds of Prey). 

Now with the huge commercial and critical success of this film, Warner Bros. need to take advantage of this while they have the chance. Joker is a film that is set in its own universe and not a part of the bigger DCEU and this could be DC’s way of being as successful as Marvel. Elseworld stories. Detective Comics was the first to put huge emphasis on a multiverse in their comics and I believe it’s time to bring that to the films. 

They’ve already implemented a multiverse with the television shows but now is the time to let the silver screen experience this. 

Unlike Disney, Warner Bros. has the movie rights to ALL of the DC characters. All of them. From heavyweights like Superman and Batman to less popular characters like Question and Red Tornado. They need to make use of that advantage because there are plenty of characters who have not had successful film ventures yet. Green Lantern, Martian Manhunter, Batgirl, Constantine (sorry Keanu) Lobo, Zatanna, Static Shock, Booster Gold (a personal favorite) and so many more. Give these characters a chance. They can shine in their own standalone movie that doesn’t have to do with the DCEU. However, if you want to put all of them in the same universe, you’ll need visionary writers capable of that. 

Consider this my call to action for Warner Bros. because I’m admittedly more of a DC fan than a Marvel. Don’t get me wrong, I love both franchises but DC was my first so I am biased towards them. I’m happy that Marvel has continuous success but it also makes me melancholic because it makes me question why DC can’t experience the same. 

Only time will tell if DC can keep this up because right now, they’re doing well overall but even if they ultimately never catch up, they can be proud of this one. 

Overall...

I love this film and its portrayal of an iconic character. They took an overused and overexposed character and somehow made him fresh again without taking away what made him so popular in the first place.

Todd Philips had a vision and he took it to a level that I didn’t think he was capable of. Joaquin Phoenix just absolutely killed with a performance that’s going to be remembered forever. 

As I write this review, talks of a sequel have already begun. I’m honestly not sure if they can do outdo themselves. My expectations will be even higher but they are most certainly welcome to exceed them again. 

[castleportrpg]

—BOLD WHAT APPLIES. 

[ COLORS ] red. brown. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink. black. white. teal. silver. gold. grey. lilac. metallic. matte. royal blue. strawberry red. charcoal grey. forest green. apple red. violet. navy blue. crimson. cream. mint green. bubblegum pink. sky blue. pale jade. magenta. olive green.

[ ELEMENTS ] fire. ice. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam. frost. lightning. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops.

[ WEAPONS ] fists. legs. sword. dagger. spear. bow & arrow. hammer. shield. poison. guns. axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. pepper sprays. tasers. machine guns. slingshots. katanas. maces. staves. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. snowballs. claws. teeth. stealth. strategy.

[ MATERIALS ] gold. silver. copper. platinum. titanium. bronze. rose gold. diamonds. pearls. rubies. sapphires. malachite. pyrite. emeralds. tiger’s eye. green tourmaline. amethyst. rose quartz. metal. iron. steel. rust. glass. wood. porcelain. paper. wool. fur. lace. leather. silk. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. brick. marble. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. carbonate. rubber. synthetics. ribbon. aluminum. grease. obsidian.

[ NATURE ]  grass. leaves. trees. bark. roses. daisies. sunflowers. tulips. wildflowers. lavender. lilies. hibiscus. petals. thorns. pine needles. seeds. hay. sand. rocks. bamboo. roots. flowers. fungi. ocean. river. frozen lake. meadows. valleys. forest. desert. cacti. tundra. savanna. rainforest. caves. underwater. beach. waves. space. constellations. shooting stars. auroras. clouds. mountains. dew. rainbows. blizzards. fossils. moss. driftwood. fjords. canyons. floods. droughts. thunder. tornadoes. hurricanes. tsunamis. volcanoes. earthquakes. mist. ponds.

[ ANIMALS ] lions. wolves. foxes. bears. tigers. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. snakes. turtles. frogs. toads.ducks. bugs. spiders. birds. dove. seagulls. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. dogs. rabbits. penguins.tarantulas. praying mantises. butterflies. ladybugs. scarabs. bees. wasps. crows. ravens. mice. lizards. octopi. squids. jellyfish. elephants. giraffes. rhinos. scorpions. crocodiles. armadillos. badgers. goats. sheep. pigs. chickens. llamas. camels. vultures. sloths. monkeys. werewolves. unicorns. pegasus. phoenix. dragons.

[ FOODS / DRINKS ] sugar. salt. candy. bubblegum. coffee. tea. kombucha. beer. wine. hard liquor. vodka. champagne. whiskey. spices. herbs. apples. oranges. lemons. cherries. strawberries. peaches. watermelon. coca cola. pepsi. dr pepper. mountain dew. sprite. vegetables. fruits. meat. seafood. pies. desserts. chocolate. potato chips. soup. stew. breakfast cereal. donuts. toast. waffles. ramen. caramel. cookies. chips & salsa. berries. nuts. cinnamon. iced coffee. cold brew. burgers. burritos. sushi. pizza. bbq. nachos. quesadillas. avocado. eggs. milk. cheese. poultry. bacon. popcorn. macaroni & cheese. pasta. hot pockets. sandwiches. insects. pudding. cheesecake. jerky.

[ HOBBIES ]  music. art. watercolors. gardening. metalworking. sculpting. painting. sketching. hiking. camping. writing. poetry. composing. cooking. baking. sewing. weightlifting. swimming. dancing. acting. singing. sports. football. basketball. martial arts. self-defense. war tactics. electronics. technology. phone. cameras. video cameras. vlogging. blogging. video games. knitting. crocheting. movies. theater. libraries. books. comic books. magazines. cds. vinyls. cassettes. piano. strings. violin. guitar. electric guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. drums. harp. woodwinds. brass. flute. astrology. exploring. playing cards. poker chips. chess. dice. roleplay board games. billiards. hockey. motorcycle riding. woodworking. fishing. eating. sleeping. climbing. paintball. running. jogging. skateboarding. parkour. partying. studying. mechanics. hunting.

[ STYLE ] t-shirts. camisoles. tank tops. muscle shirts. vests. blazers. v-neck shirts. button-up shirts. boxers.briefs. boxer briefs. sport bras. lingerie. sneakers. converses. vans slip-ons. sandals. heels. doc martens. engineer boots. wing-tips. leather lace-up boots. saddle shoes. leggings. trousers. jeans. chinos. shorts. pencil skirts. skinny jeans. earrings. gauges. necklaces. bracelets. rings. trucker hats. snapbacks. tye-dye. band t-shirts. flannel. hawaiian shirts. bandanas. motorcycle helmet. fedora hats. scarf. cloaks. corsets. belt. denim jackets. bomber jackets. letterman jackets. canadian tuxedos. hoodies. sweaters. cardigans. thrift store sweaters. sport jerseys. gloves. corduroy. wool socks. pea jackets. ties. bowties. bolo ties. suspenders. watches. glasses. elbow patches. sunglasses. visor. eye contacts. makeup. braces. canes. tattoos.

[ MUSIC ] rock. pop. jazz. rap. r&b. hip-hop. funk. alternative. classic rock. classical. trance. dubstep. top 40. edm. hardstyle. blues. latin. k-pop. j-pop. ambient. new age. metal. world fusion.  reggae. soca. punk. ska. singer-songwriter. folk. country. bluegrass. americana. swing. opera. show tunes. film score. a capella. minimalist. christian. avant-garde. new wave. disco. baroque. symphonic metal. soundtrack. vaporwave. glitch. house. chillout. psychedelic rock. post-rock. cabaret. trip-hop. easy listening. glam rock. trap. nightcore. indie. garage. grunge. contemporary. shoegaze. surf rock. black metal. metalcore. emo. screamo. rockabilly. parody. industrial. electro pop.

[ MISC ] balloons. bubbles. bubble baths. showers. city skylines. light. dark. lust. gluttony. greed. sloth. wrath.envy. pride. growth. decay. war. peace. work. money. power. clocks. photos. mirrors. lighters. sweat. pets. candles. diary. journal. graffiti. bottlecaps. cigarette butts. postcards. fairy lights. madness. sanity. sadness. realism. happiness. loyalty. optimism. pessimism. loneliness. family. friends. clan. assistants. co-workers. enemies. corn fields. bonfires. friday nights. road trips. neon lights. county fairs. smoking. drugs. kindness. love. hugs. kisses. tears. typewriters. thrift stores. wood cabins. netflix & chill. spring. summer. autumn. winter. farmland. countryside. suburban. small town.

[thepnwvarmints]

BOLD any which apply to your muse !  Italic any they’re on the fence about. ! feel free to add to the list !     REPOST;  DON’T REBLOG.

For Wyatt:

[COLORS]     red.   brown.   orange.  yellow.  green.   blue.   purple.  pink.   black.   white.   teal.   silver.  gold.   grey.   lilac.   metallic.   matte.   royal blue.   strawberry red.   charcoal grey.   forest green.   apple red.   violet.   navy blue.   crimson.   cream.   mint green.   bubblegum pink.  sky blue.   pale jade.   magenta.

[ELEMENTS]     fire.   ice.   water.  air.   earth.   rain.   snow.  wind.   moon.  stars.   sun. heat.  cold.   steam.   frost.   lightning.   sunlight.   moonlight.   dawn.   dusk.   twilight.   midnight. sunrise.  sunset.   dewdrops.   time.   aether.

[WEAPONS]     fists.   legs.   sword.   dagger.   spear.   bow & arrow.   hammer.   shield.   poison.   guns.   axes.   throwing axes.   whips.  knives.  throwing knives.   pepper sprays.   tasers.   [v; Bonnie x Clyde – machine guns.]  slingshots.  katanas.  maces.   staves.   wands.[MagiciansAU - powers.  magical items.   magic.]  rocks.   mud balls.   claws.   teeth.  stealth. strategy.   words.

[MATERIALS]     gold.   silver.  copper.   platinum.   titanium.   rose gold.  diamonds.   pearls.   rubies.   sapphires.   emeralds.   amethyst.   metal.    iron.   rust.  steel.   glass. wood.   porcelain.   paper.  wool.   fur.   lace.   leather.   silk.   velvet.   denim.   linen. cotton.  Charcoal.  clay.  stone. asphalt.   brick.   marble. dust.   glitter.   blood.   dirt.    mud. smoke.  ash.   shadow. carbonate.  rubber.   synthetics.   ribbon.

[NATURE]     grass.   leaves.  trees.   bark.   roses.   daisies.   sunflowers. tulips.  lavender. petals. seeds.  hay.   sand.   rocks.   roots.   flowers.   fungi.   ocean.   river.   frozen lake. meadow. valley.   forest.   desert.   tundra.   savanna.   rain. forest.   caves. underwater.   beach. waves.   space.   clouds.   mountains.   snow.   mist.   pond.

[ANIMALS]     lions.   wolves.  foxes.   eagles.   owls.   falcons.   hawks.   swans.   snakes.   turtles.  ducks.  bugs.   spiders.   birds.   dove.   seagulls.   whales.   dolphins.   fish.   sharks. horses.   cats.   dogs. bunnies.   penguins.   praying mantises.   crows.    ravens.  mice. lizards.  werewolves.  scorpions.  unicorns.  pegasi.  dragons.   ladybugs.  scarabs.   chickens. magpies.   elephants.

[FOODS/DRINKS]     sugar.   salt.   candy.   bubblegum.   wine.  champagne.   hard liquor.   vodka.  beer.   coffee.   sake.   tea.  spices. herbs. apple. orange.   lemon. cherry. strawberry.  watermelon.   vegetables.   fruits.   meat.   fish.   pies. desserts.   chocolate. cream.   caramel.   berries. nuts. cinnamon.   burgers.   burritos. pizza.   ambrosia.   eggs. milk.   bird.   insects.   omelette. cake. honey.  potatoes.

[HOBBIES]    music.   art.   watercolors.   gardening.   smithing.   sculpting.   painting.   sketching.   fighting.   writing.   composing.   cooking.   baking.   sewing.   training.   dancing.   acting.  singing.   martial arts. self-defense.   war tactics.   electronics.   technology.   cameras. video cameras.   video games.   computer.   phone.   movies.   theater.  libraries.   books. magazines.   cds.   records.   vinyls.   cassettes.   piano.   strings.   violin.   guitar.   electronic guitar.   bass guitar.   harmonica.   harp.   woodwinds.   brass.   flute.   bells.  exploring.  playing cards.   poker chips.   chess.  dice.   motorcycle riding.   eating.   sleeping.  climbing.   running.   jogging.   parkour.   studying.  driving. 

[MISC]     balloons.   bubbles.   cityscape.   light.   dark.  candles.   growth.  decay.  war. peace.   money.   power.   percussion.   clocks.   photos.   mirrors.   lighters.   pets.   diary.  journal.   fairy lights.   madness.   sanity.   sadness.   realism.   happiness.   optimism.   pessimism.  loneliness.   family.   friends.   clan.   assistants.   coworkers.   enemies.   loyalty.   smoking.   drugs.   kindness.  love.  hugs.  kisses.  spring.   summer.   autumn.   winter.  farmland.   countryside.   suburban.  village.  mischief. stability.   lies.   truth.

Tagged by: @alongingwithin​ [Thank you, babe!]

Tagging: Anyone that wants to. ;)

[lloronala]

CHARACTER AESTHETICS.

BOLD any which apply to your muse! Remember to REPOST! Feel free to add to the list!

[ COLORS ] red. brown. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink. black. white.teal.silver.gold. grey. lilac. metallic. matte. royal blue. strawberry red. charcoal grey. forest green. apple red. navy blue. crimson. cream. mint green. lavender.

[ ELEMENTS ] fire. ice. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold. steam. frost. lightning. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset. dewdrops.

[ BODY ] claws. long fingers. fangs. teeth. wings. tails. lips. bare feet. freckles. bruises.canine. scars. scratches. wounds. burns. spikes. feathers. webs. eyes. hands. sweat. tears. feline. chubby. curvy. short. tall. normal height. muscular. slender. trained. piercing. tattoos. strong. weak.

[ WEAPONS ] fists. sword. dagger. spear. scythe. bow and arrow. hammer. shield. poison.guns. axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. pepper sprays. tasers. machine guns. slingshots. katanas. maces. staffs. wands. powers. magical items. magic.rocks.

[ MATERIALS ] gold. silver. platinum. titanium. diamonds. pearls. rubies. sapphires.emeralds. amethyst. metal. iron. rust. steel. glass. wood. porcelain. paper. wool. fur. lace.leather. silk. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. brick. marble. dust.glitter. blood.dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics.

[ NATURE ] grass. leaves. trees. bark. roses. daisies. tulips. lavender. petals. thorns. seeds.hay. sand. rocks. roots. flowers. ocean. river. meadow. forest. desert. tundra.savanna. rain forest. caves. underwater. coral reef. beach. waves. space. clouds. mountains.

[ ANIMALS ] lions. wolves. black panther. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans.snakes.turtles. ducks. bugs. spiders. birds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. dogs. bunnies. praying mantises. crows. ravens. mice. lizards. werewolves. unicorns. pegasus. dragons.

[ FOODS/DRINKS ] sugar. salt. candy. bubblegum. wine. champagne. hard liquor. beer.coffee. tea. spices. herbs. apple. orange. lemon. cherry. strawberry. watermelon. vegetables. fruits. meat. fish. pies. desserts. chocolate. cream. caramel. berries. nuts.cinnamon. burgers. burritos. pizza.

[ HOBBIES ] music. art. watercolors. gardening. smithing. sculpting. painting.sketching.fighting. fencing. riding. writing. composing. cooking. sewing. training. dancing. acting.singing. martial arts. self-defense. electronics. technology. cameras. video cameras. video games. computer. phone. movies. theater. libraries. books. magazines. cds. records. vinyls. cassettes. piano. violin. cello. guitar. electronic guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. harp. woodwinds. brass. trumpet. flute. drums. bells. playing cards. poker chips. chess. dice.motorcycle riding. eating. climbing. running.

[ STYLE ] lingerie. armor. cape. dress. suit. tunic. vest. shirt. boots. heels. leggings.trousers. jeans. skirt. jewelry. earrings. necklace. bracelet. ring. pendant. hat. crown. circlet. helmet.scarf. neck tie. brocade. cloaks. corsets. doublet. chest plate. gorget. bracers. belt. sash.coat. jacket. hood. gloves. socks. masks. cowls. braces. watches. glasses. sun glasses. visor. eye contacts. makeup.

[ MISC ] balloons. bubbles. cityscape. landscape. light. dark. candles. war.peace.money.power. percussion. clocks. photos. mirrors. pets. diary. fairy lights. madness. sanity.sadness. happiness. optimism. pessimism. loneliness. family. friends. assistants. co-workers. enemies. loyalty. smoking. drugs. kindness. love. hugs.

tagged by: @rollingsnowsmasher <3333 ;v; tagging: anyone !!

[cartoonlonk-a]

tagged by: @trueklng Thank you v much!! tagging:  If your URL has more than one letter/number in it. Do it.

REPOST ; DON’T REBLOG.

BOLD any which apply to your muse ! Feel free to add to the list !

❖ WHAT ARE YOUR MUSE’S AESTHETICS?

[ COLORS ] red. brown. orange. yellow. green. blue. purple. pink. black. white. teal. silver. gold. grey. lilac. metallic. matte. royal blue. strawberry red. charcoal grey. forest green. apple red. violet. navy blue. crimson. cream. mint green. bubblegum pink. sky blue. pale jade.

[ ELEMENTS ] fire. ice. water. air. earth. rain. snow. wind. moon. stars. sun. heat. cold.steam. frost. lightning. sunlight. moonlight. dawn. dusk. twilight. midnight. sunrise. sunset .dewdrops.

[ BODY ] claws. long fingers. fangs. teeth. wings. tails. lips. bare feet. neck. shoulders. legs.freckles. bruises. canine. scars. scratches. wounds. burns. fingernails. spikes. feathers. webs. eyes. hands. sweat. tears. feline. chubby. curvy. short. tall. normal height. muscular. piercing. tattoos. athletic. hair. fur.

[ WEAPONS ] fists. legs. sword. dagger. spear. bow & arrow. hammer. shield. poison. guns. axes. throwing axes. whips. knives. throwing knives. pepper sprays. tasers. machine guns. slingshots. katanas. maces. staffs. wands. powers. magical items. magic. rocks. mud balls. claws. teeth. stealth. strategy.

[ MATERIALS ] gold. silver. copper. platinum. titanium. rose gold. diamonds. pearls.rubies.sapphires. emeralds. amethyst. metal. iron. rust. steel. glass. wood. porcelain.paper. wool. fur. lace. leather. silk. velvet. denim. linen. cotton. charcoal. clay. stone. asphalt. brick. marble. dust. glitter. blood. dirt. mud. smoke. ash. shadow. carbonate. rubber. synthetics. ribbon.

[ NATURE ] grass. leaves. trees. bark. roses. daisies. sunflowers. tulips. lavender. petals.seeds. hay. sand. rocks. roots. flowers. fungi. ocean. river. frozen lake. meadow. valley.forest. desert. tundra. savanna. rain forest. caves. underwater. coral reef. beach. waves. space. clouds. mountains. snow. mist. pond.

[ ANIMALS ] lions. wolves. foxes. eagles. owls. falcons. hawks. swans. snakes. turtles. ducks. bugs. spiders. birds. whales. dolphins. fish. sharks. horses. cats. dogs. bunnies.penguins. praying mantises. crows. ravens. mice. lizards. werewolves. unicorns. pegasus. dragons. frogs.

[ FOODS/DRINKS ] sugar. salt. candy. bubblegum. wine. champagne. hard liquor. vodka. beer. coffee. sake. tea. spices. herbs. apple. orange. lemon. cherry. strawberry. watermelon. vegetables. fruits. meat. fish. pies. desserts. chocolate. cream. caramel. berries. nuts.cinnamon. burgers. burritos. pizza. ambrosia. eggs. milk. poultry.

[ HOBBIES ] music. art. watercolors. gardening. smithing. sculpting. painting. sketching. fighting. writing. composing. cooking. baking. sewing. training. dancing. acting. singing. martial arts. self-defense. war tactics. electronics. technology. cameras. video cameras. video games. computer. phone. movies. theater. libraries. books. magazines. cds. records. vinyls. cassettes. piano. strings. violin. guitar. electronic guitar. bass guitar. harmonica. harp. woodwinds. brass. flute. bells. exploring. playing cards. poker chips. chess.dice. motorcycle riding. eating. sleeping. climbing. running. jogging. parkour. studying.

[ STYLE ] lingerie. armor. cape. dress. tunic. vest. shirt. dress shirt. boots. ankle boots.heels.leggings. trousers. jeans. skirt. jewelry. earrings. necklace. bracelet. ring. pendant. hat. beanie hat. crown. circlet. helmet. scarf. brocade. cloaks. corsets. doublet. chest plate. gorget. bracers. belt. sash. coat. jacket. hood. gloves. socks. masks. mittens. cowls. braces. watches. glasses. sun glasses. straw hat. visor. eye contacts. makeup. ribbons. sweater.converses. tennis shoes. boxers. briefs. boxer briefs. shorts. cargo. cropped pants. crop top.cuffed pants.

[ MISC ] balloons. bubbles. city scape. light. dark. candles. growth. decay. war. peace. money. power. percussion. clocks. photos. mirrors. pets. diary. journal. fairy lights. madness. sanity. sadness. happiness. optimism. pessimism. loneliness.family. friends. clan. assistants. co-workers. enemies. loyalty. smoking. drugs. kindness. love. hugs. kisses. spring. summer. autumn. winter. farmland. countryside. suburban. village.

[askfuneraldirge]

Shadowpony Mega corps

Nightmare Munitions. Corporate slogan- "Put the fear of the moon in them." Headquarters- tramplevania, Nightfall(formerly eastern equestria.) Ceo/president-Ms.Moon/Star Dancer. Ms.Moon owns vast majority of the company but star dancer handles the day to day because Ms.Moon has lived on the moon sense skyfall incident. Corp status:AAA public corp Specilizations:Military Hardware,Arms,Aerospace,Entertainment Description: The #1 ranked MegaCorp in the world, right next to Solar Heavy Industries. Run by the former Princess Luna, most Shadowrunners know them for two reasons: Their arms division and the fact that they own that big white ball of rock up there. Miss Moon herself is up there, that big moon cannon of her's still pointed down. Besides that pleasant memory, they're best known among Shadowrunners for their Starbolt pistol series (they're up to the Starbolt V) and having a lot of work to mess with other Megacorps directly. Solar Heavy Industries. Corporate slogan- "Bringing a brighter tomorrow." Headquarters- Canterlot, Solari(formerly western equestria.) Ceo/President-Solar Flare Corp Status:AAA Private corp Specalization:Heavy industry,Magical Power,chemistry,Agriculture,Solar guard. Description: The #2 Megacorp in the world, though it trades the spot with Nightmare Munitions every few years. If you've ever run into trouble with the law (and you will,) you've met their privatized law enforcement, the Solar Guard, which they hire out to most cities. One of the better ones to work for, if only because they're a bit more honest about how much they want to screw you over. Sometimes. Don't be fooled though, under all the justice and sun imagery they're one of the most underhooved corps out there. Despite Miss Moon's best efforts, THEY are the reason for the saying "never cut a deal with an Alicorn." Celestia saw to that, before she vanished. Amour images. Corporate slogan- "Leave them wanting Amour" Headquarters- Shimmer City,Crystal empire Ceo/President-Elegant Aegis Corp Status:AAA private corp Specalization: Entertainment,Media,Social Networking,Advertising,Fashion. Description: Have you ever watched a Trid, a movie, seen an advertisement, read a news post, or seen a cloudvertisement (ugh)? Then you've encountered Amour Images, previously known as Mi Amour Images. They pretty much ARE media, despite NeoLibrary being in command of the Library. Their CEO is a supermodel and daughter to the last known Alicorn on the surface of the planet (despite rumors that she's half changeling,) and following in her hoofsteps their culture tends to be "people-centric." They're probably one of the nicer ones to work with, and their Amour Arms division (headed by Prince Shining Armor before his retirement) is the maker of the ever popular among Shadowrunners Amour Aegis heavy pistol, and the source of a lot of the armor you'll probably wear. Especially the frilly stuff. Granted, its pretty much public knowledge that they're in bed with at least one major changeling hive, Shimmer City being one of the few places to publicly grant changelings citizenship without tracking measures. Despite the corporate court rulings requiring tracers, no one feels like angering the ones keeping the sun and moon turning. NeoLibrary Corporate Slogan- "Knowledge at your hooves." Headquarters- Coltro,Saddle Arabia Ceo/President-Smoke & Mirrors Corp Status:AAA Public corp Specalization: The Library, Arcane technology, Finances, Computers, cyberware, academics Description: The primary driving force behind the Library, and basically invented technology as we know it today. The invention of the Sparkpack, the basis for all arcane technology, is directly accredited to their founder Twilight Sparkle. Needless to say, they're heavily invested in all things tech. As a corp, they're pretty fractured thanks to an incident a few years back and the twin CEOs odd priorities. Runs from them are pretty much a grab bag, watch out that you don't end up grabbing a scorpion. And despite all their focus on the Library, being the ones in charge of its infrastructure, even they can't claim full ownership of the place. That goes to the Librarian. FlutterCord Pharmaceuticals Corporate Slogan- "Caring for them all, big and small." Headquarters-Pearis,Prance Ceo/President-Discord Corp status:AAA Private corp Specalization: Bioware,chemistry,media,arms,Lazurus, medicine, Redheart Recovery Description: If you've gotten hurt before, or have a medical care contract with FlutterFixers, you probably owe your life to these guys. Being the only AAA Corp run by a Spirit, its surprising how benevolent these guys seem. Food drives, homeless shelters, healthcare, etc. Their PR and legal departments are probably the best in the world, right behind Amour Images, which is a good thing since they're also the leaders in Chaos magic, Friendship Shamans, equine testing, you name it. If its horrific, illegal, and a crime against equinity, they've got their hooves in the pie. And while it is possible to get one over on Discord, doing so usually ends lethally for the naive Runner who did. So kind of a coin flip, really. Apple conglomeration Corporate slogan- "Strength, family, and the Earth Pony Way." Headquarters- appleoosa, Edens expansion (formerly mild west) Ceo/president-  Red Delicious Corp status:AAA Private corp Specalization:snacks,argiculture, alternate power, robotics, heavy industry. Description: See that "Earth Pony Way" thing up there? Yeah, they're serious about that. They keep everything "in the family," meaning if you aren't an earth pony, they've probably got you in their sights. If you do have that luxury, you're not too much better off unless you do the talking. If you're lucky enough to have direct Apple Family lineage, you'll be welcomed with open hooves, and hold at least one share of that 59% Split among the family. Racist, acts like the Mafia, and with a stranglehold on anything agriculture. Not that it was always like that, but that's a megacorp for you. Except agriculture, that's got a proud history behind it. Speaking of, if you've bought pretty much any consumer product recently, you've generously given to their bottom line. They make 80% of everything you'll find in your corner's Apple Cart, 90% if you count the Apple Cart itself. And be careful around them, they may tout Honesty as a driving value, but don't let it fool you. They're are corrupt and evil as everyone else. Zerc(Zebra Electronic and robotics company.) Corporate slogan- "Staying one hoof ahead." Headquarters- Buckswana, Zebrica free lands Ceo/president- shoe horn Corp status:AAA Public corp Description: The original Megacorp, though they've dwindled slightly in the past 30 years. The destruction and splitting up of Dash and Do Stuff provided a lifeline, but that's in Equestria. Over in the Zebrican Free Lands, they're the reason it's not really free. Steeped in old Zebrican culture, they were the first to adapt to the world after the Skyfall, and it shows. Despite being the world leader in robotics, and just behind NeoLibrary when it comes to Library related goods, they're best known for being the largest provider of magical and alchemical reagents out there. Still need idea for a few more AAA mega corps. but this was a base idea.

[publicabsent]

𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒.

i. romeo & juliet,      suburban july.  scraped knees.  bruised knuckles.  blood in your teeth.  bare feet on hot concrete.  restlessness.  your high school’s empty parking lot.  love poems in your diary.  a window open to coax in the breeze.  burning inside.  an ill - fitting party dress.  a t - shirt you cut up yourself.  the time you tried to give yourself bangs.  biking to your friends house.  bubble gum.  gas station ice.  the feeling that you’ve met before.  rebellion.  a car radio playing down the street.  cheap fireworks.  a heart drawn on the inside of your wrist with a sharpie.  switchblades.  red solo cups.  dancing in your bedroom.  screaming yourself hoarse.  running out of options.  the forlorn looking basketball hoop at the end of a cul - de - sac.  climbing onto your roof at night while your parents are asleep.  flip - flops.  a eulogy written on loose - leaf.  the merciless noontime sun.

ii. hamlet,      speaking in a whisper.  holding your breath.  a browning garden. a half remembered story. furniture covered with sheets. fog at dawn.  mist at twilight. losing touch. the ethereal space between winter & spring. the soft skin at your temple. the crack in the hallway mirror.  things you’d say if you knew the words. uncombed hair. books with writing in the margins.  books with cracked spines. books with lines scratched out. prayers on all souls’ day.  a chipped ceramic bathtub. a cold stone floor.  the uncomfortable awareness of your own heartbeat.  the sparrow that got in your house.  shadows.  the creek you played in as a child.  a dirty night gown.  an oversized t - shirt.  a collection of your favorite words.  soil beneath your nails. ghost stories.  the strangeness of your own name in your mouth.  deep silence. exhaustion. a cliff with a long, long drop down.

iii. twelfth night,      wicker deck furniture.  new england summer.  large sunglasses & a blonde bob.  a storm over the ocean.  patio umbrellas flapping in the wind.  the smell of chlorine.  muffled laughter.  sarcasm.  starched cuffs.  day drinking.  bay windows.  the idea of love.  love for the idea of love.  love for love’s sake.  hangovers.  wandering over the sand dunes.  a vagabond with a guitar.  fishermen with tattoos.  a pretty boy with a slacked tie.  a lighthouse.  growing too close.  boat shoes.  feeling yourself change.  big, floppy sunhats.  double - speak.  a song you keep listening to.  turning red under their gaze.  margaritas drank on an inflatable pool lounger.  string lights on a balmy night.  sleepy june days.  fights you’re unprepared for.  hope you weren’t expecting.  pranks that go too far.  bad poetry.  pining.  becoming less of a stranger.

iv. macbeth,      the space where your grief used to be.  a bird that’s lost an eye.  old blood stains.  heavy blinds.  the smell of sweat.  the stillness after a battle.  a fake smile.  a curse.  the taste of metal at the back of your tongue.  your house, unfamiliar in the dark.  a dusty crib.  the smell of sulfur.  an orange pill bottle.  streaks in the sink.  a black cocktail dress.  your hand on the doorknob, shaking.  a chilly breeze.  crunching from the gravel driveway on a moonless night.  clenched hands.  a rusty swing set.  a flashing digital clock stuck on 12:00.  a snake that crosses your path.  an owl that watches you.  a dog that runs when you approach.  red smoke, dark clouds.  cool steel.  tile floors.  footsteps in the hallway late at night.  a baggy suit that used to fit before.  visions.  insomnia headaches.  nursery rhymes.  being too far in to go back now.

v. much ado about nothing,      the high drama of small towns.  a pickup truck.  military supply duffel bags in the hall.  hugs all around.  tulip bulbs.  a wraparound porch.  a pitcher of iced tea.  a rubber halloween mask.  someone on your level.  ill - timed proclamations.  stomach clenching laughter.  rushing in.  not minding your business.  crepe paper.  white lies.  secrets written down & thrown away.  southern hospitality.  homemade curtains in the kitchen.  a sink full of roses.  hiding in the bushes.  old friends.  the wedding dress your grandma wore, & her mama before her.  a dog - eared rhyming dictionary.  chamomile with honey.  the intimacy of big parties.  lawn flamingos.  gossip.  a crowded church.  friendly rivalries.  unfriendly rivalries.  shit getting real.  love at five hundredth sight.  not realizing you’re home until you’re there.

vi. king lear,      cement block buildings.  power lines that birds never perch on.  the end of the world.  useless words.  rainless thunder, heat lighting, a too big sky.  arthritic knuckles.  broken glass.  chalk cliffs.  the pulsing red - black behind closed eyes.  something you learned too late.  wet mud that sucks up your shoes while you walk.  a cold stare.  empty picture frames.  empty prayers.  the obscenity of seeing your parents cry.  a treeless landscape.  bloody rags.  grappling in the dark with reaching hands.  the sharpness at the the tips of your teeth.  the blown out windows of a skeletal house.  decay.  jokes that aren’t jokes.  biting your tongue.  prophecies.  aching muscles, tired feet.  stinging rain.  invoking the gods.  wondering if the gods are listening.  worrying that the gods are dead.  white noise.  shivers.  numbness.  the unequivocal feeling of ending.

vii. midsummer's night dream,      the smell of wet soil & dead leaves.  listening to music on headphones with your eyes closed.  wildflowers.  the distant sparkle of lightning bugs.  a pill someone slipped you.  fear that turns into excitement.  excitement that turns to frenzy.  mossy tree trunks.  a pair of yellow eyes in the darkness.  night swimming.  moonlight through the leaves.  a bass beat in your chest.  a butterfly landing on your nose.  a kiss from a stranger.  a dark hallow in an old tree.  glow in the dark paint.  drinking on an empty stomach.  a twig breaking behind you.  spinning until you’re dizzy.  finding glitter on your body & not remembering where it came from.  an overgrown path through the woods.  cool dew on your skin.  a dream that fades with waking.  moths drawn to the light.  giving yourself over, completely.  afterglow.  the long, loving, velvety night.