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[jokemoved2electricbugaloo]

                 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙶𝙸𝚁𝙻 𝙸𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙲𝙾𝚁𝙽𝙴𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝙽𝙾 𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝙸𝙶𝙽𝙾𝚁𝙴𝚂   𝟻/?

[jokemoved2electricbugaloo]

Lilac is 4 months old!  Tomorrow.  But idk how i’ll be or what’ll happen tomorrow so i’m gonna jot it down now. So without further ado…  The Bug’s discovered that she does indeed have two feet,  and when held in a sitting position tends to favour reaching for them whenever her fist isn’t in her mouth  (a habit Nix likes more than Arthur,  she thinks it’s funny).  She can also now hold her own head up when the rest of her is supported and raise her arms high above her head  —  beware of your hair as you used to be safe at a distance and now you most certainly aren’t.  Thanks to an abundance of tummy time,  she’s already started to roll over when laid down too… which is problematic because Nix isn’t used to a kamikaze baby trying to throw herself off the bed in the morning,  but she’ll get used to it.

She’s a talker… and a sulker.  Now that she can reach for most things she does do so,  and when she doesn’t get,  it’s becoming a problem.  Gavin the cat is currently the most sought-after prize,  and Nix hasn’t quite been able to explain to Lilac that he’s different from the stuffed animals in her crib,  despite trying.  She’s not quite at ‘Mama’ or ‘Dada’ stage yet,  but she’s happy to babble away at you,  and particularly enjoys it when you lead a conversation.  Ask her about her opinion on modern on socio-economics,  she’s thrilled.

[jokemoved2electricbugaloo]

“let my love be a wolf. / i’ll lay my head on a bed of her teeth.”

— José Olivarez, from “I Wake in a Field of Wolves with the Moon,” published in The Shallow Ends

[jokemoved2electricbugaloo]

                                                  ⋘  ☠   ⋙

[jokemoved2electricbugaloo]

I used to think that my life was a tragedy, but now I realize, it’s a fucking comedy.

JOKER

2019 | dir. Todd Phillips

[jokemoved2electricbugaloo]

                                          𝙷𝙾𝙽𝙴𝚈𝙼𝙾𝙾𝙽 𝙲𝙻𝙸𝙿𝚂 𝟷.                                          ‘ Where’s the glowing splooge at? ’

Given how it’s her first time in her adult life traveling ( Arthur’s too ),  and Nix knows her new husband’s penchant for sentiment as well as camera work,  Arthur’s cameraman for the trip.  A few short clips will be released for those following Nix on any socials  (mostly instagram)  who are eager to know how the honeymoon goes,  but most of that which is filmed will remain private.

Given that the children aren’t home in the city and no one knows where they’d be,  it is safe enough for Nix to release said clips as and when she wants while they’re away.  The first is the above,  filmed shortly after their arrival on the island of Vaadhoo.  With a drink already in-hand,  Nix explores the nearby beaches with Arthur in tow.  Given their shared love for the sea,  the clip shown publicly is short,  and you can imagine them spending the rest of the day exploring and messing around in the water  (interpret that any which way).  They spend their first evening on the same sand so Nix can watch for the sea of stars while picking apart some barbequed ribs from the local Fannu Cafe’ before later heading back to their on-the-water villa at Adaaran.

[jokemoved2electricbugaloo]

again i say let her infiltrate your weird ass fancy dinner so she can kill a man in the bathroom and come back for dessert ‘cause it’s nothin

[jokemoved2electricbugaloo]

☻ BANSCHIVS. ⋆˚✩​

“  Thaaaat’s creepy!  ”   Despite the low ceilings and thick walls,  her voice and further enjoyment seems to echo down the empty corridor.  Stacked with useless crates and boxes,  she’s cleared the long stretch of the skeleton crew that had been manning it.  Of all the floors in The Atlantic Bay,  the three that were previously riddled with Skizm recruits remain a rat’s nest for a similar sort of freak.  Infiltration had been easy enough —  the hotel was never known for its security;  she’d walked right up the stairs,  not trusting the ‘still-working’ elevators,  seemingly followed by the same flash of green and red she sees taking cover from nothing behind an empty crate of what once would have been ammunition.  So she presumes.  Arthur’s ducked away from nothing at all:  she’s cleared the place out alone.  Not a scratch marrs her features in the wake of doing so,  though she’s been blowing her growing fringe out her eyes for the last ten minutes.

Room 809 has been emptied of its defences too.  A corpse with pink hair and a bullet in its throat prevents the door from closing all the way when she turns back the way she came and pokes her head through that gap.  Arthur slinks his way up the same corridor she’d blasted through just moments previously.  While he’s so exposed underneath the flickering beams of light hung above his head,  she swerves her attention to and fro to watch the shadows crawl without a body lifting itself up off the floor for a cheap shot.   “  Hey,  Handsome.  ”   She ducks her head just briefly to boot the closest corpse out of 809′s doorway.    “  You coming my way?  ”   It will close behind them once he’s in with her,  and he’ll catch a glimpse of the dual screens held up against the opposite wall.  On one,  a website she can already tell is brimming with day-to-day updates and a message board she has yet to rifle through.  The second plays poorly screen-recorded copies of some of the more popular Skizm battles.  The quality is characteristic of the supposed ‘team’ that had been working on what she presumes is a highlight reel.

“  I look like shit in 240p…  ”   One the left screen a fist has just been planted into her face.  It was two years ago,  but her jaw remembers the ache.   “  See what I’m saying?  God.  ”   Arthur’s fury will likely come to light soon enough,  though she carries with her a nigh-girlish enthusiasm for the wretched state of it all as she treads further into the suite,  stepping over a body with a crater in his bald head.  The room itself smells of blood and piss and damp —  it’s not unfamiliar to one such as her.

“  What do you think?  Fans of mine?  ”

Though he’s no stranger to such acrid blends, they still wage war on his nose. Tears cling to his waterlines. He almost paws at them three times, but halts at the last moment or he’ll smear the teal subverted triangles under his eyes. The stench of human history bloats the suite: blood, feces, rot, spit, sweat, and urine. He blurs his vision with hope that it’ll occlude the corpses Nix has redecorated with. Then the cigarette he’d been cradling returns to his lips. The manager wouldn’t dare bother with a ‘no smoking’ sign on the door and even if so, she can’t get them on the eleventh floor. His spine had begun to crawl when they passed level three. Chewing on the filter, he follows Nix’s directives by turning to face the setup. He’s several steps behind, rooted without seemingly touching the carpet. Joker sashays over blood-splattered rolling paper and heads towards one of the taped-up windows to jam it open with his shoulder. A warm breeze is the last thing he’d normally want, but here he welcomes it. 

Empty takeout bags and boxes lie like a minefield. He wends around them, mindful of the brain matter and rot that endeavors to crawl up his nostrils. The Chief’s Special is still in his jacket. Joker smooths its outline and holds till he hangs over Nix’s shoulder; fixed on a screen he can’t shoot through without blowing their cover.

“It’s not funny,” he sneers, expression calcifying. “None of this is.” A long message board waits to be read on another screen. Joker doesn’t even bother to strain. His right fist catches a cough. He almost sets the entire hotel on fire by bobbling the cigarette currently clenched between his teeth. This room hasn’t been serviced in eons. Stains he doesn’t even want to begin to speculate also splatter on the carpet, wallpaper, and furniture. Interpolating Nix and the creaky door places him in the line of fire should they be ambushed. It’s likely, given who she’s picked off. “Get what you need to,” he begins punctuating with his lit cigarette, “--and then we...” Joker gestures between them both, “need to leave.” Skittering within the drywall visibly unsettles him. Joker’s arms tuck to his chest and he pauses before taking his next hit. 

[jokemoved2electricbugaloo]

[jokemoved2electricbugaloo]

                                 ❛  𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝙰𝙻𝚆𝙰𝚈𝚂 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜.  ❜

                                        UNTIL DAWN    ///    @jokethur

“  Oh,  please,  ”   The space between them is minimal,  risky given the pleating of her brow and the stubbornness knocking her jaw.   “  You’re the biggest bitch baby there is.  ”   It’s said as a matter of fact,  quick enough not to allow him to lurch forward.  Nix shelves her hand against the side of his neck,  his pulse knocking against the heel of her palm.  Like this she might be able to hold him steady.  Sleeplessness bruises around his eyes and hollows his cheeks.  His collar bone juts out toward her with every breath.  In the master bedroom,   Lilac sleeps facing the small mirror she’s become somewhat obsessed with;  it slows her waking cries when her eyes open to meet themselves.  Evelyn too is quiet in her room,  likely with Gavin stretched out behind her under the quilt.

Another night separate,  with the patio door held open despite the ostensible ghosts she knows he thinks are out there.  A breeze dusts gooseflesh up her bare thighs and kisses the backs of her ankles when she burgeons the risk more by placing her feet between his own.  Arthur’s harried by wakedness,  and likely her company too.  Rarely does she breach the apparent sanctity of the living room at night —  and whenever she does,  the response is the same.  Blockaded by obstinance,  Nix is clumsy in her execution,  but droops her arms across his shoulders.  Her own dissatisfaction wears away behind her wide eyes and hides itself at the fidgety corners of her mouth when she attempts to smile through his continued dismissal.

“  Is it still so hard,  ”    Her hands flex,  threading fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck as he would to prevent her dodging away.   “  To talk to me?  ”    She’s awkward in her delivery.   “  Not even that,  just… to have me in here.  ”   Her pout down-turns so she can bite the inside of her cheeks.  The fingers on her good hand splay against the crown of his head.  Jade waves are mussed by stress despite her attempts to smooth them.   “  You look like you’ve been fighting the walls,  Baby.  ”​

[jokemoved2electricbugaloo]

mental health on zero but at least i’m sexy

[jokemoved2electricbugaloo]

☻ BANSCHIVS. ⋆˚✩

Evelyn seems to object,  wrapping her arms around Nix’s throat and attempting to latch her ankles at her mother’s waist.  For one so small,  her grip is stubborn,  and she’s clonked her head against Nix’s with enough force to briefly distract her.  Now that her father’s retreated back to the sink,  with Lilac tucked against his chest,  Nix side-steps the rug again and makes her way around the island.  Silently,  she obeys,  though Evelyn’s wide eyes appear to indicate that she’s not exactly happy to be tucked back in bed.  In a few minutes she is,  however, and the chaos doesn’t seem to reach beyond the threshold of the bedroom door.  Fairy lights illuminate the stars Nix had once painted across the ceiling,  and the nightlight projects the cosmos across the walls in a delicate purple haze.  Gavin’s quick to silently leap behind Evelyn’s legs,  resting his chin on her knee and eyeing the door as if he were a guard dog.

“  It’s fine,  ”   She says,  wrinkling her nose for a fleeting smile while she stands.  Evelyn’s tiny hand’s already pawing at the cat’s tail.  He’s patient enough to allow it.   “  Dad just worries.  ”

Back in the living space,  the air’s just as heavy and filled with static as she left it.  Lilac’s enormous eyes are downcast;  she watches her father’s fingers,  and doesn’t seem able to let the idea of chewing on the Neosporin go.    “  You know,  ”    She says,  leaning forward to relieve Arthur of the baby’s weight.  Lilac’s attention doesn’t shift,  her stare’s unblinking still,  fascinated by movement alone.    “  At some point they’re both gonna realise this place is batshit.  ”    Timbre’s reticent,  not meant to jab at an open wound,  literally or figuratively.  The baby’s pressed to her chest,  though Nix has turned to one side so she won’t be craning her neck to stare.  The fingers that don’t bend lay flat against the crown of her head.  Attention fleetingly downcast while she affirms her hold beneath Lilac’s backside,  she adds.  “  Or we are.  ”

Not that the baby appears to mind;   she’s folded her fist and tried to shove it past her gums again.  It makes Nix smile,  though it’s stiff upon her face.   “  Good luck with that one,  Bug,  you got the perfect mix.  ”   It doesn’t nothing to settle the anxiety.   “  Or maybe that’s just me.  ”   Arthur’s all but flayed his face in an attempt to rid himself of the paint.  Still the remnants of glass shards glitter in the sink,  and despite the clotting,  his knuckles might begin to bruise.

Lilac’s Sienna Orange Baby Bouncer sits beneath the terrarium so she can gaze up at the frogs instead of honing in on her father’s ripped skin.  Before she can grizzle at the lack of warmth,  Nix bumps it with her shin so the rocking might lull her some.   “  Come here,  ”   Stood alongside him again,  she steals Arthur’s hand the the tube.  Dabbing against his knuckles,  she snares him with the same eyes the baby had.  Her margins are soft  - the antithesis of his frantic visage -  and somehow she wonders if her hands are colder than his.   “  This chick walk away okay?  ”  That question hands in the silence.  Only the occasional drip of the tap alerts her beyond their entwined hands to the rest of the room.  Shadow makes an attempt to engulf them,  though somehow Arthur repels shade,  just as he always does.  Her breathing is steadier than his,  without the rattling of panic or stress in her lungs.  A bleached brow peaks,  and she knocks her chin to minimise the space between them.  One hand’s swept the mussed green curls from his brow.   “  What about the fucker who’d got her?  ”

Muscle memory shoots his fist through the tempered glass once again. He clenches, stiff in spite of the impact that sent thousands of bitty shards sailing both into the face of his prey and his own arm. Crimson stains his soda cap patterned shirt, too. Under cover of night, his own blood almost appears black. Lilac’s chubby hand waving over her head catches his eye. He spares their infant a soft look that she responds to by babbling. 

Blind to how the walls shift, his hand trembles, and the beat of his heart implodes on itself, Joker forces a bark-laugh to puncture the silence he’d inadvertently calved out between Nix and himself. Eyes only rivaled by their daughter’s watch him closely. Joker almost grazes her lashes with his cheek so he can shelve their faces alongside the other and remember to breathe.

The antibiotic ointment splattered across his hand catches a trick of light when he turns it. Joker ignores the sticky shine that’ll paint Nix’s skin, hair, and clothing if he isn’t careful…so his good hand moulds around her jaw, cradling her. Three fingers spider crawl behind her ear to burrow in her scalp. She’s gelid to the touch. Joker draws her closer by the back of her near till her chest pushes flush to his and the marginally steadier metronome within it coaxes his heart to relax some. His neck and chest have yet to still. Joker carves a smile onto his face anyhow, brushing her supple cheek with his thumb and wondering if a speck of glitter from that day’s makeup will wander onto his skin. Shadows bury the living area deeper behind him. Lilac remains blissfully unaware of the silhouettes taking shape. Tears seep from his eyes when Joker squeezes them shut, then rests his chin on Nix’s shoulder.

“I don’t know,” answers both of her questions. Joker lets that marinate for a moment, brow creased and smeared lips pulled into a frown. White and red dregs cling to his face. Joker has a care not to soak his sleeve, instead opting to shrug the jacket off. It’s tossed onto a chair by a shaking hand so it lands lopsided. He ignores it to suppress a shiver, then bends his wounded fingers around her hand so he can graze the pallid skin. Panic-induced fog muddies the artwork he by now can place by heart across her hand. Raw fingertips patter over chili pepper in the bay between her thumb and index finger before he kisses it. “Sh-she,” he clears his throat, “bolted.” The driver lost an eye to the impact of Joker’s glass-crusted fist blasting through it. Not all the blood on his hand is his.

Blacklight within the frogs’ terrarium adds an ethereal ambiance that he hadn’t noticed until now. It splashes Lilac’s face. He smirks at her and reels back from Nix so his attention can jump to the darkness pooling in their living area...and windows he itches to tape up so none can see inside. 

Before he accidentally bleeds all over his shirt, Joker unbuttons the waistcoat as best he can and his dress shirt follows suit. The red slacks run higher up his waist than modern trousers do. Joker doesn’t fill them out the way he used to either, so he traps the waistline by clamping an elbow and drapes his clothing over his arm. “I don’t even remember the make of the fucking car…” the fact that he’s smiling should prelude a laugh, but he can’t. Joker grins till his teeth grit and heads into their bedroom to change out of his bloody clothing. “Not that it matters.” He stops himself from dipping a hand in his pocket to pull out a cigarette in their doorway. Hi-hat lights then flip on so he can disappear towards their walk-in closet. “Someone else’ll try the same god damn thing tomorrow.”

[jokemoved2electricbugaloo]

you can’t relate to me, shut up

[jokemoved2electricbugaloo]

☻ BANSCHIVS. ⋆˚✩

Their new proximity makes it difficult to look much further beyond his face.  Despite having his back to the firepit,  Arthur’s snared that glow.  His eyes cage it,  drawing her own once she blinks.  Any closer and he’d feel her lashes against his skin.  Cavorting flames illuminate the green waves framing him;  light filters through like gold,  making his hair bright enough to match the stare he’s pinned her to the spot with.  She’d stolen his vice away,  as she’s sure he thinks she’s wont to do,  though the taste still lingers upon his tongue.  Sniffing doesn’t grant her the scent of cigarette smoke,  however,  just the burning wood.  It isn’t metal,  or roasting hair,  though the heat at her nostrils is noticeable enough.  Still she doesn’t draw herself from him.

“  I just…  wanted a beer,  ”   She says,  knowing better than to deny him the ostensible honour of fetching her a cold one.  Her bottles of Delirium line the door,  they always do.  Lilac’s fingers curling against her chest finally draw Nix’s gaze downward.  The fire’s made the peach fuzz atop her head shine blonder still.  Evelyn’s suffered the same,  drenched in cavorting light that spins her hair to gold.  She hasn’t sat up,  but Nix can feel her eyes on them.  When the tie-die feet of Lilac’s onesie flex and bend in an attempt to kick out,  she tucks her hands beneath the baby’s arms and completes the three-month-old’s venture from one chest to the other,  receiving a tiny foot to the sternum in the process.   “  She’ll have a whiskey.  ”

Now with one free hand once Lilac’s chin sits against her shoulder,  Nix splays her fingers against Arthur’s chest.   “  Seriously,  I heard it helps them sleep.  ”    His heart leaps,  seemingly with every other beat,  like it’s about to run away with him.  Sometimes she wonders if it will,  or if she’s even allowed to be so close.  He grants her it nonetheless.  Clearing smoke from her throat,  she presses her lips together to smile.  She’s not sure as to whether or not an apology should knot at the back of her tongue,  though something’s rigid enough to fleetingly steal her next breath.  When her teeth grind her canines sink into her lower gum.

Slipping past him so close that their arms brush,  Nix takes his original spot on the two-seater,  laying her back against the arm of the seat and drawing her feet up once again.  With her knees drawn higher and Lilac awake and searching the air for something to interest her,  she rests the baby back against her lap.  Close to fussing,  Lilac takes a fistful of her mother’s hair with her.   “  I thought I was clingy…  ”    She jokes,  glancing over the blonde fuzzy head supported by her knees to catch Arthur before he ducks past the cat inside.   “  Forget it,  she’s just gonna eat me.  ”

Nix’s relocation buys him a new excuse to slink closer. One fist plants on the arm of the loveseat behind her head. The other hand moulds under her jaw; caressing the shell of her ear and brushing from the corner of her mouth past her frown line. A warm, dry waft rolls over his bare back. Shadows follow the dips of his spine to exaggerate each bony protuberance…and fill the gaps between ribs. Evelyn is asleep, but should she wake the visual might startle her. Jersey-caliber humidity, which has already dried his hair that’d been slick from a shower, should leave his lips damp, yet they’re bone-dry. The first kiss is chaste. Her head dips back over the couch arm and blonde vines fall behind her as he turns his face and steepens the angle at which their mouths cross. Small pink dents behind her bottom lip catch his attention. Joker’s tongue darts over those.

Lilac still has a fistful of her mother’s hair clenched in her chubby hand. Joker scantly abandons Nix’s cheek to wrestle with their infant until she releases her bear trap clutch. Doing so forces a rush of nicotine-rank air out his mouth that disrupts what had been a tongue kiss. Nix’s back performs a feline arch below him. Once her hair is free, he ropes an arm under her to map its curve and count phases of the moon that he’s committed to memory up her spine. Their infant covers the gap between her thighs and its warm apex. Ere he pulls away, Joker hooks a hand behind her thighs to graze her backside and dip three fingers between her folds through her clothing. Every delicate dip incenses him with an ambrosial note that he can’t taste given their audience. Joker rubs twice, then kisses her so hard that a popping noise signals when he pulls back.

“She like it on the rocks?” he asks of the infant’s stiff whiskey order. Sidesteps carry him back towards the sliding door, where Nix’s empty beers await the recycling bin — one Seaspiracy documentary and now they recycle…which, in theory, would be nice if the city ever collected it. Instead mountains of bottles, plastic, paper, and aluminum sit outside their building. At least the bin’s there. Joker collects the next round of glass that’ll end up right out front, then makes a clicking noise until the ginger kitten slinks deeper into the apartment. “Why are you even pretending,” he asks the cat, “—to be interested?” Reflexes had flipped on every light within range, likely straining Nix and Lilac’s eyes on the outside. “I could leave that door open all god damn day and you wouldn’t go back out.”

He pulls another pink elephant bottle out of the fridge and clamps the Delirium between his teeth. Lilac’s bottle should’ve come first, but he works backward: clinging to Nix’s drink and pouring formula from can to bottle. Gavin’s hopped on the counter, watching with enormous green eyes. He keeps his own averted to ignore any shape that shouldn’t be there and the mechanical hum of Goblin’s tank. The filter’s glubbing provides a touch of ambiance that helps him twist the nipple back on top and finally pop the lid off Nix’s drink with his teeth. A bottle opener’s somewhere in the utensil drawers, he just didn’t feel like fumbling for it. Like the wind he whisks out the back door and reappears with both a bottle for Lilac and Nix’s opaque beige bottle. “For the little lady…” Joker teases handing Lilac the beer — she goes to snatch it, too, but the fake-out leads it into Nix’s hand. Another kiss pushes Nix’s nape into the arm of the furniture. He hums when her mouth opens and sets the baby’s bottle in Nix’s free hand. “You want me to feed her?” he asks, using his own face against hers to guide Nix’s attention towards their younger daughter. “Then...I was thinking I could put them down.” 

[jokemoved2electricbugaloo]

When I was a little boy and told people I was going to be a comedian, everyone laughed at me. Well, no one’s laughing now.

JOKER

2019 | dir. Todd Phillips

[jokemoved2electricbugaloo]

☻ THARANDUIL. ⋆˚✩

𝐀𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡, 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐬 ;  𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞, 𝐄𝐫𝐮𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧.    Thranduil has dismounted his elk when halting by the enchanted river, now back on the path home he walks.    It rustles here, bushes jitter there, nothing unusual.    Even the souls trapped somewhere between weakened dark magic and elven spells are silent.    Near a lush meadow, the ellon stops to free his feet from leather boots —  unrest befalls only Eruantien.    Antlered head rushes up, anxious round eyes dart around and nostrils twitch, but he is too late to alert Thranduil, who has just planted bare heels onto soft ground.

Shadows promptly spit out a massive, black beast !    The elk spins around, head lowered in defense and the elvenking’s frame straightens at once ;  shock flares in his bones where reflex shoots an adorned hand to one sheathed sword’s hilt.    And he pins his frostbitten glare to that abnormal large wolf, ere releasing the breath he’s sharply drawn prior.    ❝  𝐒𝐤𝐢𝐧-𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 …  ❞,  growls he, yet sag broad shoulders with a strange relief.    Free palm sinks to the side of Eruantien’s neck, to soothe him, albeit his warning aims for the jester.    ❝  𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝.  ❞

Though the half-beast hangs his head and laughs, its vibrato filthier than the Dead Marshes, his ears swivel. Grass hardly flattens under his trot: a gift from Mad White, mayhap. He tromps in silence, long green hair emerging from his neck. Olive skin replaces much of his black fur. Somewhere lies the Elvenking’s boots. Skin-Changer hops over them with far more grace than necessary and remains on all fours, tail held proud behind him and his shoulders embattled just in case. As always, the full moon faces all the world. That stag probably laughs at it. Two quick orbits end with the cursed one at eleven o’clock, head tucked almost to the grass and crooked teeth on display.

“You’d have to catch me first,” he scoffs, licking his crooked teeth. He pauses once human fingers dredge the soil. Dirt beneath his nails leaves him repulsed, accustomed as he is to the sensation. “Think your heifer could hack it?” A nudge of his chin directs attention to Eruantien, to whom he elongates his jaws and snaps his teeth at from a distance. Another hacking, wheezing laugh — like his lungs have been stuffed with hot coals — sullies the meadow’s serenity. “Perhaps I’ll lend a mercy-start to the poor bovine.”

[jokemoved2electricbugaloo]

“Heart on fire, ashes everywhere — there’s no return from a red like that.”

— Manuel de Freitas, from “Fado Menor”, translated by Richard Zenith