𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐂 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑   :   gaslights. corsets.  ballrooms.  candlelight. mist.  starless nights. full moons. cobbled streets.  horse-drawn carriages.  mysterious strangers. bogs.  moors. forests. mountains. castles.  velvet.  silver.  brass.  gold. jewels.  domino masks.   the opera. dangerous romances.  tragic romances.  violins. roses. lilies. empty graves. crosses. cemeteries. snow. ice. the gallows.  crows. ambiguous illness. fangs. pointed nails. something howling in the night.  capes.  gloves. top hats.  straight razors. lightning.  pipe organs. underground caverns.  bats. mice.  rats.  ravens. cats. pearls.  attics. talismans. axes.  wood. isolation in a room full of people. vampires. werewolves.  ghosts.  coffins. western europe.  eastern europe. bones. churches.  catacombs.  mausoleums.  spiders.   books.

𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑   :   black and white. powder puffs.  red lipstick.  winged eyeliner.  white kitten heels. black lace lingerie.  icy blue eyes. rain.  abandoned cars. skeletons.  acid. poison. voyeurism. switchblades.  strangling.  overcoats. looking over your shoulder. trans-atlantic accents.  private detectives.  dinner parties.  haunted mansions.  alcohol in glass decanters.  cobwebs.  perfect blonde curls. kitchen knives. shock. cellars.  dust. dark alleys.  empty streets. driving at night. horn-rimmed glasses. radiation.  zombies. serial murder. paranoia. the city.  witches.  the devil. cannibalism.  conspiracies.  amulets. abject terror. the american south. the american northeast.  england. analog cameras.

𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒   :   bloodbaths.  massacres. wanton nudity.  newspapers. leather jackets. letterman jackets.  converse sneakers. obscured faces. social unrest. bonfires.  lakes. babysitters. suburbia. high school.  lockers. dead leaves in the fall. jack-o’-lanterns. outdated television sets. nightmares. psychiatrists.  hospitals. unstoppable forces. gunfire. police. landline telephones. household objects turned into improvised weapons. halloween. secrets. revelations. character masks.  scrunchies.  queerness. wild curls.  jeering children. parties.  fire. swearing. revulsion.  california. the american midwest. ambulances.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑   :   malevolent spirits. seances.  spells. missing bodies.  hidden graves. white noise.  static. flickering lights.  rings of salt. demons.  poltergeists. dark histories. old buildings.  cold air. mausoleums. wells.  urban exploration. a dog barking at something you can’t see.  black ooze. old photographs. faces you can swear you’ve seen before but can’t for the life of you figure out where.  dark bodies of water. crucifixes.  priests. possession. exorcisms.  dolls.

𝐂𝐑𝐘𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐃 & 𝐔𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐍 𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑   :   aliens. blinding light.  dark woods. driving at night. claw-marks.  bite-marks.  men in black.  memory loss. dismembered bodies. sewers. flashlights. cell phones.  video cameras.  cars with tinted windows.  abandoned houses.  unlabeled cassette tapes.  bugs.  big cities. urban crimes.  clowns.  something rustling outside your window.  glowing light. unsolved mysteries. suburbia.  mirrors.  the american pacific northwest. the american midwest.   hiking / backpacking.

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐒   :   daylight. fluorescent lighting.  morgues.  asylums. unwavering eye contact. tension. lit rooms with no one inside them.  a dog digging in the newly-planted flower bed. steely gazes.  paperwork. anagrams.  codes. convicted killers. missing persons.  law enforcement.  federal agents. small towns. suspicion.  paranoia. subdued terror. dimly-lit parking lots.

  i almost always talk about this when i get on maka’s blog but something about her being one of my most favorite female anime protagonists ever and holding true to her character makes me kind of wince each time i glance over at her tags and see fanon portray her as this snobbish, refined schoolgirl? and furthering the point why people “ hate “ her because she’s ‘ plain ‘ in comparison to kidd and black*star when in all honesty that’s why she means so much to me in the first place. 

 maka is plain. she’s a regular girl. the point is that she’s worked hard enough to be considered one of the top three most renown students in order to get a scrap of recognition for her efforts within the student body, and even that is a feat in its own. people paid more attention to soul rather than who was wielding him and made him as adept as the weapon he is now. 

 working next to a literal death god and one in training is a lot harder than sounds ( duh ), and she was fully aware of that fact yet pushed forward anyways to create a death scythe at age sixteen. 

 she may be stern/serious/whatever but that’s because her goal was one that had very limited, life-or-death moments of trial and error. don’t get me wrong, she’s not perfect-- self-doubt is still a huge part in what she thinks her abilities can extend to on the spot on the first try but honestly that’s what makes her more of a relatable character in general. living in a world where your school principal is the fucking grim reaper with students who have trained more than they’ve had birthdays is going to put a bit of a stunt into an average teenage girl’s status quo. 

    Both are bathing in ash from the moment it begins to fall. Darker than it will be in hours to come, singed by the fires that still burn, colored by blood still fresh as wind catches and drags every fleck into a flurry around them. But even such a scent has been swallowed, and there is no copper in the air-- only melted metal, only flames and the wood crumbling into them. Just like he planned from the moment he raised a handful of destruction as she watched that grin curve and curl almost endlessly.

       “ Says YOU! ”  Maka counters, brows knitted into a tight line. Self-righteousness haloed by smoke and surrounded by destruction is only one of the many blueprints in what it truly takes to become a kishin. 

   Something she doesn’t doubt that he must be proud about, either.

  A snapping-snarl unfurls in the wake of a deep, bubbling fire as she involuntarily stands with the abrupt yank of her collar and his disastrous hand moving impulsively to strongly coil around her arm. He must of caught on, then-- that any further movements at her disposal were with full intention to shatter that stupid fucking hand on his face.  

  “ The suffering of others will never satiate a soul; it only makes it hungrier--if not desperate. Which is what you really are. ”

  She aims to call him selfish when there was never a self, never a desire that was not forced upon him or whatever it is that’s turned him this way, into something only showcased within the brittle pages of a horror novel. “ Nothing but a coward manipulated into thinking that this is some twisted game you’re playing with the lives of. I’d say it’s another case of a victim used for a much bigger ploy here, but something tells me that’d be too much of a forgotten sentiment! ”

  Slaughter is not uncommon. She watches it slink all the way from Death City’s wide arms to where she stands now, a sullied trail. It scatters across worn sneakers and paints her legs crimson, bloodied hands having cracked into the jaws of aberrant hunger-- selfishly starving; every case of survival is fluid, all in its own right to hunt as it is her own to succeed. 

    So here lies a girl, a ghoul, and a body. Maka’s tendency to see the best in people is a curse as it is a gift; these people know how to lie. Better than anything she’s seen in her life.

    And while not familiar with the area’s indigent, cannibalistic nature, she’s familiar with the way her stomach turns and aches from the stench of it all having risen to abnormally drastic standards. Being eaten is something you’d read about in books, not experience second-handedly by a guise of fake vulnerability.

  Because what sits ahead now is a silhouette of limbs; no longer a body but a pile of gore snapped, snared, and humiliated into cruelty. Limbs once attempting to break her own now protrude out of organs disorganized into ribbons. Messily killed, yet not entirely on account of her own.

  “ You’re right, that’s why I shouldn’t have come to the rescue as carelessly as I did without looking around first. ” She grits, tightly-pressed teeth twisting into a snarl. Warm droplets of saliva are still slick against Maka’s cheek, her sweat caked into bloodied dirt seeping into the tarnished cloth of her sweater.

  Violent rakes of blood cascade down her arms as her fist hanging to her side, tightens. Falls off of her knuckles into miniature halos across concrete. “ If you hadn’t arrived the moment you did just now, I would’ve been as good as just another meal for these freaks. ” She says, anger a snarling cage-fight just by the barbwire in her eyes piercing into her offenders dismantled state.