———❝ WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST FUCKING SAY ABOUT ME, you little bitch? i’ll have you know i graduated top of my class in the navy seals, and i’ve been involved in numerous secret raids on al-quaeda, and i have over 300 confirmed kills. i am trained in gorilla warfare and i’m the top sniper in the entire us armed forces. you are nothing to me but just another target. i will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this earth, mark my fucking words. you think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the internet? think again, fucker. as we speak i am contacting my secret network of spies across the usa and your ip is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. the storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. you’re fucking dead, kid. i can be anywhere, anytime, and i can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with my bare hands. not only am i extensively trained in unarmed combat, but i have access to the entire arsenal of the united states marine corps and i will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. if only you could have known what unholy retribution your little “clever” comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. but you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you goddamn idiot. i will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. you’re fucking dead, kiddo. ❞
MEET THE MUSE
► Name ➔ “Elliot.” ► Are you single ➔ “Yes, but I’m not interested in a closed relationship.” ► Are you happy ➔ “Somewhat.” ► Are you angry? ➔ “Hardly.” ► Are your parents still married ➔ “My mother died before I ever met my father.”
NINE FACTS
► Birth Place ➔ “Weimar, Germany.” ► Hair Color ➔ “Blonde.” ► Eye Color ➔ “Pale green.” ► Birthday ➔ “November 21st, 1910.” ► Mood ➔ ”Flaccid.” ► Gender ➔ “Male.“ ► Summer or winter ➔ “Winter, the clothes are better.” ► Morning or afternoon ➔ “Afternoon. I feel worse drinking in the morning.”
EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE
► Are you in love ➔ “No, and never.” ► Do you believe in love at first sight ➔ “Absolutely not.” ► Who ended your last relationship ➔ “I did.” ► Have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔ “No.” ► Are you afraid of commitments ➔ “… You could say that.” ► Have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ “Nope.” ► Have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ “Does Jude count?.” // @catastrophicur ► Have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ “No.”
SIX CHOICES
► Love or lust ➔ “Lust.” ► Lemonade or iced tea ➔ “Lemonade.” ► Cats or Dogs ➔ “Cats.” ► A few best friends or many regular friends ➔ “Few best friends.” ► Wild night out or romantic night in ➔ “Wild night out.” ► Day or night ➔ “Night.”
FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS
► Been caught sneaking out ➔ “Yes.” ► Fallen down/up the stairs ➔ “No.” ► Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ “… Yes.” ► Wanted to disappear ➔ “Once.”
FOUR PREFERENCES
► Smile or eyes ➔ “Eyes.” ► Shorter or Taller ➔ “Depends.” ► Intelligence or Attraction ➔ “Attraction.” ► Hook-up or Relationship ➔ “Hook-up.”
FAMILY
► Do you and your family get along ➔ “They’re all dead, so you could say that.” ► Would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ “…” ► Have you ever ran away from home ➔ “Thought about it.” // verse dependent ► Have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ “No.”
FRIENDS
► Do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ “Does Jude count as a friend?” // @catastrophicur ► Do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔ “No.” ► Who is your best friend ➔ “I don’t have one.” ► Who knows everything about you ➔ “No one.”
He’d let himself in, thinking nothing of it — thinking Elliot home, so it wouldn’t matter if he came in unannounced or not. But there’s no answer to his sing – song calls of ‘ Ellie?Elliot? Elliiiiot? ‘ There’s no sound, either: not the rush of water, music, or voices come from a TV station.
Jude’s child – like hope of being able to bug the other man is dashed. Frowning, eyes skim over the living room, stopping when they come upon the apartment’s other occupant: angular, coat soft and white, he traipses over looking to get the pretty kitty to let him pet her. This is enough of a distraction for a while, but not forever: minutes aggressively tick by and he’s not the most patient person or creature in the world. He may have a tendency of being obsessive, but that’s not working out in Elliot’s favor today, when Jude disengages from his furry princess to explore the apartment.
Furniture is draped across. The floor rolled around on. Eventually, he’s up on his feet, poking his nose in cabinets and drawers, looking at the contents but not daring lift a hand to push them about and discover what might be hidden behind or beneath what he gets at face value. He doesn’t want to upset anything from its place.
In hindsight, he can understand this as going too far, but when he extends his hand to a door that he doesn’t think will actually open with a twist of its know. “ Huh… “ It’s not only cats that can end up victims of their own curiosity: he’s instantly enthralled by the contents of this room he’s found, and how different it is from the rest of the apartment. It’s got — substance, to it. Personality. Memories, Jude discerns, eyes dragging over photos and fingers over the spines of tomes in their organized lines along their many shelves.
Despite how good he’s been about leaving everything in its rightful place thus far, hound picks up one framed family photograph on impulse — a soft ache taking deeper root in his chest the longer he stares at the melancholic portrait, detailing each face until attention befalls the one belonging to a little girl. A miserable little girl.
He knows who it is.
But it’s neither realization, or shock: just confirmation of what he’s already known.
What does come as a shock is the unregistered appearance and chilling tone from behind him. Taken off guard, Jude jolts and fumbles, the picture sliding through hands usually more deft than what they are in this moment… it hits desk’s edge with a soul – splitting CRACK! before continuing onto the floor.
No, no, no… “ Fuc— “ As much as he wants to apologize, he doesn’t get a chance. Not one to so much as respond to his mishap before he’s being manhandled. “ Elliot, Elliot— I’m sorry, listen— “ He’s stronger. This is a fact. Bodily, cur could overtake the other man with ease if he weren’t so inclined to yield to his punishment. He knows he’s done wrong and worse by touching — by BREAKING — an heirloom he had no business knowing existed in the first place.
Heart’s pace has quickened, as he’s not quite a fan of letting anyone loom over him when they’re inexplicably pissed off. Fists are curled into tight balls and tucked against the opposite side of their respective arm so to not start swinging; Adam’s apple shows with a nervous swallow that clears his throat of unvoiced sorry’s and excuses that won’t do him any good in making Elliot less upset with him. “ …I-I’m not opposed to it. “ The joke makes a jittery escape, though Jude’s got wits enough to wince at his stupid blip. It’s not bound to to go over too well when the atmosphere is this tense.
“ I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… well, I meant to come in here, but I didn’t mean to— “ get caught? You fucking asshole— “ I didn’t mean to drop it. “
———❝ Shut up. ❞| You could see it, on his face, in his movements. A stiff paralysis continued at odds with his urgent desire to lash out. At once, he was holding back another part of him, that other half wanting nothing more than to burn all proof of his weakness. This was his face, more than genuine, more than real. He’d throw every part of his identity away if it meant no one had to see it for themself.
Tossing Jude back with a strength unlike any in his reserves, the man gripped his fist until joints cracked. He knew better than this, the risk of divulging his abilities to another agent monumental, considering what this was. He’d never kill Jude, not like this, not right here. Were this real, he’d have no hesitation.
❝ Do you ever just… Stop and think before you speak? ❞
Tremors in the fist. Hard as diamond, the man’s exoskeleton had become brittle under the force of his emotions. He bent down, face obscured as he gripped a large shard of glass from the shattered frame. Blood collected at his palm, trickling down the wrist, and dripping onto the hardwood floor. He would clean this up. He would fix this mess.
Gathering the rest of the frame together, the man tossed the bloodied mess into the trash. The man’s stubborn nature prevented him from making this any better than it could have been. His palm had already stopped bleeding, skin as pristine as the day he was reborn. To him, it was almost as if his body could not bring itself to mourn the loss. It would just keep fixing itself.
❝ Accidents happen. Get over it, and get out. ❞ He hadn’t once looked the man in the eye.
* RUSSIAN LITERATURE AESTHETIC . bold whatever applies to / attracts your muse.
BROTHERS KARAMAZOV / orthodox monasteries, deep woods, starry nights, the sound of paper being torn, dimly lit rooms, withered roses, an unfinished letter, piles of books, the sound of shattering glass, ticking of clocks in a silent house, heavy wooden furniture, the air before a storm, the smell of earth, a crowd of people dressed in black, distant murmurs, emptied streets, the fear of walking alone in dusk.
CRIME AND PUNISHMENT / coldness of the skin against a blade, slender pale fingers and slightly shaking hands, a red stain blooming on white fabric, lonely steps in a corridor, the slow dripping of water, looking out a window into the thickening darkness, a single dying candle on the table, listening to one’s breath and counting heartbeats, too many stairs, the desire to be invisible, a subtle memory of kind word.
THE IDIOT / classical statues, wealth covered with dust, a dark house tainted with inherited madness, an unsettling feeling, long walks in a park, useless chatter, a silken ribbon forgotten on a bench,a melancholic face, an unexpected spring rain, the joy of reading one’s favorite book, the clarity of mind after fully perceiving the world around, looking at cloudless sky.
ANNA KARENINA / fields of crops, flowers brought from an early morning walk, the wind caressing a girl’s hair, a bowl of fruit, the smell of ripe pears, the clatter of a spoon against porcelain when stirring tea, children’s laughter coming from the garden, soft sunlight and white curtains, the sensation of velvet against skin, pearls from a ripped necklace spilling on marble floor, a sudden silence in a room full of people.
WAR AND PEACE / a glass of wine, the brightness of a crystal chandelier, white lace, a raging snow storm,the sound of a door being gently closed, the moment of holding one’s breath before walking in a ball room, indulging in looking at a beautiful earring against light, closing one’s eyes for a moment while dancing, the sweet smell of strawberries, a pair of gloves left on an armchair, light scent of powder.
THE MASTER AND MARGARITA /the chaos of a lively city, ambient jazz in expensive restaurants, jumping on a moving tram, the sight of moscow from the roof of a house, yellow flowers in a vase, leaning out of the window, shelves stacked with books, a small tin box with old photographs, strange shapes in the night sky, laughing in the middle of the night on a balcony, colorful posters for a surreptitious magician’s show floating in the wind.
EUGENE ONEGIN /a lonely mansion, reading a book in the parlor, faint piano melody lingering in falling silence, long evenings, passing seasons, discussing french novels of the moment, unspoken thoughts, leaning against the door frame, quickly averted glance, eating a peach absent-minded, bright mornings, footprints in snow, a loud gun-shot terrifying a flock of birds nearby.
FATHERS AND SONS / birch groves, morning mist, moss-covered stones near a moor, scientific books, white roses, cheap champagne, shabby pocket-watch, light-hearted irony, a maladroit cello sonata, freshly mowed grass, leaving thoughts come and go, a slow yawn, picturesque plates and bowls filled with traditional dishes, drinking tea on the porch.
DOCTOR ZHIVAGO / a strange feeling of loss, writing poems in a diary, traveling by train, the hesitation before touching someone’s hand, the gaze of one lost in thought, the warmth of cinnamon, a scarf brightly embellished with flowers, a glass of water, a threadbare jacket, the tempting void,the evanescent serenity of yesterday.
CHERRY ORCHARD / a lone chair in an empty room, falling blossoms, old samovar, the unsettling need for change, a mirror reflecting full moon, the disappointment of a glossy object turning worthless after second glance, a piano out of tune.