#what happened to respect the dead child mY GOD

[deimos-awaits]

Ironsong Initiate One

A short clip about an Ironsong Aspirant

Theophilus Attaliates was a child. He was a child of Astraea from the half of the world that had developed lush verdant forests instead of nigh endless pillars of choking industry. He had been selected the way his half of the world had selected all of their aspirants, one of a hundred victors of a biennial athletic competition. Now he was standing within the Spine of the Emperor, that vast mountain range that divided his world in half. Nineteen times his homeworld had orbited its star, fourteen standard terran years.

The Fortress-Monastery of the Ironsong Chapter was beautiful. Porfyropaláti in the heart of the Spine of the Emperor was a beautiful work of art. It was vast and made for a scale of human that Theophilus was not on, and hopefully would become. There were vast pink and purple tapestries gracing half the hall and the other half was raw industrial machinery that worked in a perfect precision. It was a strange room, the entrance hall of the chapter where he stood with nearly 200 other youths.

He missed his mother in Novos Athoni. He missed their small hab unit and the sounds the water purifier made. He missed attending services at the Temple of the Machine-God-Made-Flesh, he missed his gothic lessons. He missed playing in the market.

He had never been away from his family for this long and was beginning to be dimly aware that after weeks being screened and tested for diseases and other maladies, that he might never do so again.

Theophilus knew this was supposed to be an honor, it was it was, but he still was nervous.

Theopholius was torn out of his thoughts by a giant of space marine in front of him. The man, at least Theopholius assumed he was. The space marine was arrayed with a number of mechanical arms, and from what Theopholius could see a false leg. The marine took off his helm and Theopholius was also able to make out. He had beautiful white hair and violet eyes. In that respect he looked similar enough to the few Ironsong he had been blessed with seeing.

The marine did not have the voice Theophilius expected. He spoke steadily and with a mesmerizing voice. Everyone present even the other marine guards seemed to follow his words. “Aspirants! I am Strategos Siderénia Teleiótita of the Tenth Themata. You will be presented to the Artificer-Despot in the coming weeks. As of now you are the worthy two hundred of this year, this generation’s greatest and strongest. You see around you you future siblings in arms.”

Theopholius’s eyes widened. He felt like his soul was being stared into.

“You have spent the last few weeks being cleared medically and spiritually. Those of you that survive, for it is not guaranteed that all of you will, will be inducted into the Ironsong Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes. It will not be pleasant. You will be becoming the Emperor’s Angels of Death!”

The room was dead silent as the Strategos let what he had said sink in. “As you go from aspirants to neophytes to full fledged Battle-Brothers, you will be assigned to my Themata. You will be under my wings, and I swear by the Machine God that I will do all within and even beyond my power to take the worthy among you to live up to the name of our genefather Ferrus Manus!”

Much later when they had each been assigned to their bunk and given schedules for the next seeable features of their lives, Theophilus. On the way to the dormitories he'd seen a chapel dedicated to the emperor. That was where he went; he was a faithful and loyal servant after all.

The young boy, for he was not yet a man depending on what happened may never become a man, he knelt in prayer he knelt before an icon of the throne of the emperor of mankind where his halves were on display here and human and machine were glorified.

Theophilus mumbled and started over prayer sent a thousand times before never before alone though. And after some period of time and contemplation he heard the door open. You turned to see who it was realizing just now what kind of offense that this might be.

It was the strategos from earlier in the day.

He smiled almost kindly at the boy stripped of the armor wearing more traditional clothing for their home planet though you greatly scaled up to accommodate his size. “Aspirant Theophilus?”

The boy did his best sign of the Aquila and stood at firm attention though he was so clearly shaking. “Strategos Teleiótita!”

The older space Marine did not display the harshness of face that Theophilus was worried about. “You are brave to break your curfew on the first night already. Why?”

The office did not know why but he felt no fear looking at the man. “I was scared, sir!”

“Scared of what? You're in one of the most secure places in the segmentum, aspirant.”

“I… this is my first time away from home sir!”

The Elder sigh eand sat down in one of the pews. “You're lucky that you found me instead of any one of my brothers. Come sit with me we will pray. I remember what it was like to leave.”

Theophilus did as was asked. “Is it as dangerous as you said, sir?”

“More so. Theophilus if you wish you can be sent home you have gone through no trials. It will be no shame to you nor your family.”

“No sir! I want to serve the emperor sir!” This was obviously a test and one that he would pass.

“Of that I have no doubt. Have you any knowledge of the Benedictions of the Machine?”

The younger one of the two shook his head. “Then let us begin.”

[surftrips]

BAD REPUTATION | LUKE CASTELLAN

BIG REPUTATION — CHAPTER 01

pairing luke castellan x fem!ares!reader

summary upon her arrival at camp half-blood, y/n quickly captures the attention of the gods and the heart of a certain brunette-haired boy.

author's note so excited to make this an official series! please let me know if you would like to be added to my taglist for bad reputation and other works featuring luke. this is going to be a mix of social media posts / short fics.

→ installment of this au read for context

As a child of Ares, you were stubborn, short-tempered, and walked around camp with a permanent angry resting face. At the same time, you were known to be loyal, protective, and funny. If being funny was the same thing as being sarcastic.  

The younger campers were scared of you, the older ones around your age respected you, but everyone admired you in some way or another. If not for your excellent fighting skills, you had a demeanor that not even the gods above could ignore. The way you carried yourself was captivating, so much so that your father had claimed you within the first week of your arrival at camp, and ever since then, you had proven your worth to anyone that watched. 

Perhaps one camper kept the closest eye on you, the curly-haired brunette boy did not believe in love, let alone love at first sight— not until he saw you. You and him had arrived at camp around the same time, but your paths did not cross until a Capture the Flag game weeks later, when you both happened to be on the same team. 

Word had already gotten around about your talent with the spear. Clarisse had introduced the weapon to you, and you had caught on quickly. You were in the middle of fighting off multiple campers on the other team when Luke appeared beside you. 

“Need a little help?” he asked.

“Nope, I got it under control.”  

“Are you sure?” 

Even though you were strong, it was still three against one. 

You relented, “Fine.” 

Luke chuckled, hopping in with his sword. You couldn’t help but admire him out of the corner of your eye, and you were glad that your helmet hid the expression on your face. 

You had gone on to win that game and many others alongside each other, in an unspoken allyship. In time, both of your reputations had begun to precede you. 

Each week, campers awaited to hear if they would be playing on the same team as you and Luke, and each week, they would be disappointed to hear otherwise. But your fighting skills were not the only topic of conversation, it was becoming abundantly obvious that a certain boy had fallen for you. 

“Dude, what’s going on with you and Y/N?” Percy asked Luke over dinner one night. 

“What do you mean?” Luke responded, still chewing on his food.

“Come on, you’re not exactly being stealthy about it.” 

Luke laughed, “Yeah, alright, you got me.”

“So you do like her!”

“What? No, who said that?”

“You literally just admitted it.”

“I said, ‘you got me.’”

“Exactly, I figured it out. You have feelings for her,” Percy declared.

You happened to walk over at that moment, interrupting them. “Feelings for who?” 

Luke coughed, allowing Percy to respond for him. “Uh, uhm… no one!”

“Percy, I literally heard you.” Even though he was one of the younger campers that you were close with, the blonde boy still found himself scared of you on occasions such as this one when you were staring at him dead in the eye. 

“Sorry, Luke, you’re on your own for this one,” Percy blurted out before running away.

You turned towards Luke, who had since finished recovering from his coughing. He was nervously smiling at you, some color had slightly rushed into his cheeks. 

“So, who’s the lucky girl?” you asked, smirking at him. 

“Oh, you don’t know her,” he said, shaking his head. 

“Are you sure? I feel like I know pretty much everyone here.” 

“She…. uh… doesn’t go here.” 

You couldn’t help but let out a suppressed laugh. “She doesn’t go here,” you repeated.  

“Nope! I’m gonna go get some dessert.” With that, he left you alone at the table, quietly laughing to yourself. 

You weren’t totally oblivious, you knew that you must have come up in conversation for the two boys to have behaved that way. However, you were content to see how far this would go, and how much teasing you could get away with before Luke got the courage to do anything about it.

Besides, you had a reputation to keep up, and being soft all of a sudden was not part of the plan. 

[outermaybanks]

possession - kinktober day three - stepcest + Rafe

a/n: pretend this isn't technically posted on nov 1 i wanted at least 3 kinktober fics i have learned my lesson next year i will pre-write at least 5 fics before oct

cw !! DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT - definitely dubcon, possessive rafe, backshots, step-siblings

You were only seven when your mom got married to your stepfather. She hadn’t taken you to meet him until they were engaged, so to your child brain, it felt like you gained 4 family members overnight. But even after the wedding, and the years following, there was one member of the family your mother put effort in keeping away from you: your stepbrother, Rafe. 

She never said it outright, no one really acknowledged it; the closest thing you got to some sort of undeniable proof was when Rafe offered to drive you to a party and your mom practically shouted at him that she wouldn’t allow that, an argument quickly breaking out until Ward just had to drive you. 

You don’t know why she insisted on keeping you two apart, maybe it was the way Rafe looked at you; maybe it was the way you looked at Rafe. By putting such effort in keeping you two distant, your mother succeeded in making you more curious in the boy. Like she dangled a carrot in front of you, then yanked it away. Sarah and Wheezie felt like siblings; so why didn’t Rafe?

Now that Ward was in a coma, your whole family minus Sarah uprooted, Rafe decided he was the man of the house,even going as far as to give himself a new hairstyle and hit the gym harder. But that didn’t stop your mom from trying to maintain control; especially when it came to you. 

“Y/N, clean up your shit, I’m tired of finding leggings in the bathroom” Rafe’s voice suddenly entered the living room before he threw your leggings at your head. You quickly tore them off, rolling your eyes at Rafe’s attitude, but then before you could even process what happened, his hand had a grip on your chin, fingers squeezing your cheeks to make you look at him. “What was that?”

You couldn’t reply, your heart racing as your eyes flickered between his, not to mention with how tight his grip on your face was, you doubt you could’ve gotten a coherent word out anyway.

“Hey, hey! What are you doing? Get away from her,” your mom shouted as she came into the living room. It was Rafe’s turn to roll his eyes as he reluctantly released his grip on you. “She needs to learn respect,” Rafe explained. “That’s not for you to decide. Go.” “Don’t talk to me like that, woman.”

It was like a stand-off. The air felt heavier, more intense now that Ward wasn’t here to get inbetween Rafe and your mom.

“It’s fine, mom, really,” you said, standing up from the couch and grabbing the leggings off the floor. “Good girl,” Rafe said quietly, but not softly. “No, no it is not fine. You do not touch her, got that?” Your mom challenged, turning her attention back to Rafe. “You’re not in charge of me.” Was all Rafe said before walking past your mother. She looked at you, almost apologetically, like this was somehow her fault, but you just walked upstairs to put your leggings in your hamper. 

That was the first time Rafe ever challenged your mother when it came to you. And he only grew more cocky as days passed. 

Rafe went out of town for business, at least that’s what your mother told you. He was gone for about a week, and when he came home in the middle of the day, seething, you had been home alone.

Rafe walked in like a man scorned, a man with an objective.

“Rafe? Mom said you would be gone for-” you couldn’t get the rest of your sentence out before Rafe took ahold of your face, fingers squishing your cheek as his large body backed you against the wall. “Shut the hell up,” he hissed. “Rafe-” “God, you just don’t know how to listen, do you? I said shut the hell up.”

Your eyes flickered between his, but not in fear, in wait; curious to see what he would do next. And Rafe took that as a challenge.

Without a word, he pulled your face forward to have enough momentum to push you over the arm of the couch, the impact knocked the wind out of you. Before you could even turn around, you heard the clinking of his belt.

“Rafe-” “Don’t play innocent. I see the way you look at me. I know you want this.”

You tried to stand up, Rafe just shoved you back down rougher, pulling his pants down to his knees before pressing himself against the flesh of your ass; the weight of him pinning you down.

“I know you feel the same way… and I know you feel this-” he rocked his hips so the tip of the tent in his boxer prodded against your traitor of a pussy. Before you could process what was happening, you felt a coolness hit you as Rafe pulled down your leggings and panties in one go. 

“Rafe- stop, this isn’t right-” “Fuck what’s right, you want it?” Rafe asked, rocking his hips more, his boxers starting to get a damp spot from your wetness. “I think she wants it…”

You let out a gasp at the feeling, your face felt hot with embarrassment, both at the betrayal of your body, and the realization his question posed. If Rafe wasn’t your step brother…

You didn’t have time to ponder, your breath caught in your throat as a strangled mix between a whine and a moan escaped at the feeling of Rafe’s thick cock pushing inside of you slowly. 

“Yeaahhhh, she fucking wanted it,” Rafe mumbled in a low voice. “Rafe!” “I know baby, s’okay… let me take care of it.”

You didn’t know if it was meant to refer to you, or his boner, but once you felt the stretch caused by him, you didn’t care, your brain practically mush as all your silly little daydreams from your horny middle school days came to life. You let out a soft moan when he started to move his hips.

“Mmmm that’s it, fucking take it,” Rafe seethed as his pace became merciless. “Rafe!” you cry out, a whiny moan following immediately after, your fingers digging into the plush of the couch. “Always knew I’d have you like this… now that your mommy isn’t here-” Rafe’s hand came down onto your ass and the sound of the slap rang in your ear. The sting of the skin perfectly complimenting the pleasure of him filling you. “Oh my god-” you breathed out like a sigh of relief as your body collapsed forward, but Rafe wrapped his thick bicep around your neck to pull you back up against him and keep you there.

“Stay right here, sweetheart… Be a good girl… so fuckin’ tight, what, those loser ain’t fuckin’ you right or somethin’?” Of course Rafe would find a way to give you shit while being balls deep inside of you. All you could do was whine in response. “Guess I gotta fuckin’ do everything ‘round here..”

His words made your walls flutter against him, and a low groan left his throat, his hand slapping your ass once more harshly gripping your hips to forcefully make you meet his thrusts. 

“Oh fuck- oh fuck- oh fuck-” you repeated yourself, too far gone to think of new words as he pushed you closer and closer to relief. “You gonna cum on your step brother’s dick, huh? Dirty girl… thought this was wrong? What would your mommy think?” You don’t know what disgusted you more, his words, or the effect they had on you, but all you could do was whine in response.

“Oh, baby girl doesn’t want to think about that?” Rafe’s pace increased, and never wavered. “What about Ward? Can’t wait to tell him how tight this pussy is-” “No- No-” You breathed out in a panic. Another slap on your ass. “There she is… let me hear you beg for it.” “Mmm- Rafe-” you whined breathlessly. “I said beg. Or I won’t let you cum,” Rafe pushed down on the small of your back to force you to arch, the tip of his dick deliciously hitting a new angle. “You’re so close… can feel it… can feel the way you're squeezin’ me.” 

“Please! Please, Rafe, let me-” “You can do better than that- c’mon, don’t make me stop-” his pace started to slow, eliciting a loud whine from you. “Nooo, please please please, don’t stop, Rafe!”

His pace tentatively increased, small whimpers and moans leaving you as all your resolve was officially gone, all you cared about was the feeling building in your stomach.

“There’s my good girl…” Rafe praised. You only muster a moan in response; trying to reach behind to pull him impossibly closer. Rafe hooked his arm around your throat, and pulled you up against his chest, his other arm crossing over your torso to hold you up. “Let me have it, baby… let me feel you cum on my cock.”

Your head fell back against Rafe’s shoulder, your eyes squeezing shut. Your hands reached behind you, desperate to hold onto him, something, anything. Your orgasm washed over your body like a wave, and Rafe’s relenting movements were the undertow, pulling you back for more and more.

“Oh- fuck- mmmm- fuuuucccckkk-” Rafe groaned as he came inside you, the warmth filling you being the exact thing you needed after the intense climax.

Rafe’s hold on you loosened, and you both slumped over the edge the couch, panting breathlessly. 

“I always get what I want, sweetheart. Everything- all of this… it’s all gonna be mine. And that includes you,” Rafe said softly, his fingers moving stray hairs behind your ear.

[pacifierbby]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 𝑺𝑬𝑪𝑹𝑬𝑻𝑺

୨ৎ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 Ln4

୨ৎ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 none

-𝑵𝑨𝑽𝑰-

𝑭1𝑾𝑨𝑮𝑺 - it's been reported to us that Lando Norris has a secret child other than the formula one world! does he know that he's even a baby daddy? or is he one of those dads that didn't even want to know what the mother had to say the fully story is here!

𝖢𝖮𝖬𝖬𝖤𝖭𝖳𝖲

➥ 𝑼𝑺𝑬𝑹𝑵𝑨𝑴𝑬 - wow whoever this poor mother is to this child will be honestly so upset! they clearly had a reason to hide her from the f1 light and someone sells an article to an f1 wags account for what :( ♥

➥ 𝑭1𝑾𝑯𝑶𝑹𝑬 - i want to say thank you but honestly this is disgraceful that you even posted this! like the other person said they clearly left her out of this f1 world for a reason! ♥

➥ 𝑳𝑵4 𝑭𝑨𝑵 - Wow never thought ill actually see something pop up onto my page this wasn't on my 2024 bingo card! ♥

➥ 𝑭1𝑭𝑨𝑵 Lando is always out partying I'm not surprised that the mother has sold it to this wags page for child cost ♥

➥ 𝑳𝑵4 𝑭𝑨𝑵 - They would defo do more other than sell to a fan page like if she wanted something like that then why is is her profile on private? why didn't she just be open about it

𝖯𝖮𝖲𝖳 𝖡𝖤𝖤𝖭 𝖣𝖤𝖫𝖤𝖳𝖤𝖣

𝑩𝑬𝑳𝑳𝑨𝑬𝑳𝑳𝑨 - This wasn't the way I planned to even show the f1 world my little girl infract i wasn't even planning to show you at all i wanted to let her make that choice at the age of 18 when she knows about social media and how hard the media is with everything but she's still a little girl and still cant defend herself and I'm heartbroken that someone even had the guts to sell that to an f1 wags account and for them to even post it for my little girl to be posted online where i didn't even want her to be to begin with ands that's what me and Lando agreed on when I got pregnant with her and now that's out of our control and sadly now legal has everything to do with it.

And for people to say that Lando is a dead beat dad is hard to read he's amazing dad to our daughter she's a fully daddy's girl even though I hate to say it but please give our family some respect while we sort this out.

kind regards.

♥ Lando Norris, George, McLaren and 800k more

➥ 𝑳𝑵4 𝑭𝑨𝑵 I'm sorry this happened to your family I'm happy that your bringing in legal action ill be the same if it happened to my family ♥

➥ 𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑫𝑶 𝑵𝑶𝑹𝑹𝑰𝑺 both of you mean everything to me hopefully we find out who did this and put it behind us ♥ 30 likes

𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑫𝑶 𝑵𝑶𝑹𝑹𝑰𝑺 - The facts i have to write this statement today and also include legal into this is something that I didn't want to do ever me and her mother decided that we will keep our daughter out of the formula one spotlight until she could make her own mind at the age of 18 when she knew what she wanted and the fact that its now officially out off our hands honestly it hurts my private life shouldn't really matter what I do behind the scenes of f1 so what I have a family so what I had her at a young age she taught me so much the minuet she was born and I enjoy every time I have with her and the fact that I had to defend how i am as a farther that's something I shouldn't do because only i know and Bella how I am as a farther.

♥ liked by ellabella, McLaren , Daniel and 900k more

➥ 𝑴𝑨𝑿 𝑭𝑬𝑾𝑻𝑹𝑬𝑳𝑳 Im sorry that you guys went through that my god daughter is honestly the most cute and intelligent young lady that i ever met

♥ liked by Lando Norris and EllaBella

➥ 𝑳𝑵4 𝑭𝑨𝑵 all three off you shouldn't had to deal with this Lando and you defo shouldn't had to make a statement about how you are as a farther but um max as a god farther

➥ 𝑴𝑨𝑿 𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑷𝑷𝑬𝑵 Both of you shouldn't had to deal with this! or even have to make a statement about your own privacy!! hope they get what they deserver

➥𝑬𝑳𝑳𝑨𝑩𝑬𝑳𝑳𝑨 You are honestly the most amazing dad to our daughter! please don't let people on the internet tell you other wise she's such a daddy's girl and i love the connection that you have between you both

𝑭1𝑾𝑨𝑮𝑺 - I just want to owe 𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑫𝑶 𝑵𝑶𝑹𝑹𝑰𝑺 and 𝑩𝑬𝑳𝑳𝑨𝑬𝑳𝑳𝑨 a massive apology not going to say my account has been hacked or even make something up and it was all my fault and i never thought about the intentions until the statements came through and its all my fault i brought a child into this toxic world of the internet and didn't think about what the parents wanted more about the money.......

[iid-smile]

can't get rid of me , fushiguro toji

a strong legacy to be left behind , chapter one

the series masterlist. | previous | next

cw: profanity, mentions of pregnancy (pills) but filtered for megumi's sake, mentions of violence in prison, you're broke, smoking cigarettes

author's note: sigh... im out of my fluff era 😞 (sorry guys) kinda wanted to write something that i think would actually happen in some sort of alternate jjk universe and um idk how far to go because this kind of stuff does happen in the manga, but writing it feels illegal??? idk...

"mom?" megumi peeks out from around the corner in the hallway. "who was calling?"

another groan escapes your lips, around the fifth one in the last three minutes, and you silence your phone once again. "your— excuse my language, shitty deadbeat dad keeps wanting to call me." you slap your hand across your forehead and lean back on the couch, a small creak coming from somewhere below. "apparently he's getting aggressive in prison. shut off the house phone, but they still found my number..."

your son comes closer to you, and you scoop him up, placing him by your side. he glances up at you, and you swear your fight or flight instincts nearly kicked in, (not that you'd be able to fight of a guy as big as toji anyways) flinching slightly from his sharp gaze. it sucks how he looks so much like his dad, because you loved megumi so much. but the image of that guy was almost too much to bear, and he's the spitting image.

"shitty?" he repeats. for a well-behaved kid, he really doesn't respect your words.

"don't say that megs, it's bad language." you swear around him all of the time, so what's the point in scolding him? "only your mama can say it."

"don't tell me what to do."

wow. okay. why do you feel threatened by a six year old? "damn, you've got his attitude too." you mutter, but you've only got yourself to blame for that. you knew you were never cut out to be a mother, so your ways of parenting weren't the best.

he snuggles closer to you, and you openly accept, moving your free hand to his hair to rub over it. "why can't i see toji?"

ah, this lovely story again. "because he left me as soon as you were born, love." really, you couldn't and didn't want to stop yourself from wrapping him up in your arms, feeling the need to protect him. "at this point, he's dead to me. seems like he doesn't feel the same though... i'm so sick of his ass." you also knew it wasn't good parenting to rant to your child about adult issues, but you've only got him to talk to.

that hug was out of comfort then. why are you lying to yourself?

he looks up at you with an irritatingly cute but blank face. "why?"

"god, i hate how many questions you ask." you speak under your breath once again, looking up at the ceiling from any sort of help from a higher being. the amount of times you've had to family-friendly-ify things that have happened isn't even funny. you're not naturally rated u for universal. it's more embarrassing when he recites those same stories to his teachers, and you get called into the school for a little talk.

yikes... here we go. "he lied when he said he gave me the right magical candy after we visited the stork. tried to make it drop you off back to where babies are made in heaven, but i wanted it to deliver you to me, whether he liked that or not." the story's got to be a little filtered somehow. you'd rather not get yourself in the principal's office again. "you're my little hero; a miracle to me. i would've given up on myself ages ago. your dad is a bad, bad man."

the type that would kill. if he found where you lived, or perhaps where megumi goes to school...

"and now i'm left broke in an apartment that barely functions, yet i still spoil my little hero." you sing-song, leaning your head back. "and with what money? i'm broke as hell, megs. can't even make both of us breakfast in the morning cuz your elementary school is too damn expensive."

"is this my fault?"

"...no. no, baby, of course not." you furrow your eyebrows more, a small pout in your lips. "if anything, you made my situation a bit more fortunate."

it's a selfish way of thinking, using your child to avoid solving your problems, using your child to wail and complain about how much you hate your life, but you've got nothing to lose. nothing to lose except for the one person you love.

you can feel your phone buzzing again.

"you stay here and watch tv, okay? mama's gonna go to the kitchen and talk to her friend." he seems a bit relieved as you let go of him, and you stand up.

you hear him mutter. "it's only playing the news though..." no shit it only plays the news, you can't afford to get a good television company that has any kids shows. that is, unless you wanna get scammed out of all of your money.

begrudgingly, you make your way to the kitchen, confirm that you closed the door completely, and answer the vibrating device. "hello?" you sigh, placing the device over your ear.

the other person on the call replies quickly. "is this miss—"

"yeah, yeah, it is. what the hell do you want?"

"um... we apologise, but we strongly suggest that you come to the prison building. he—" the guy's voice cracks. must be really nervous. "pardon me. he's been physically assaulting other inmates and guards, he doesn't follow orders, he never leaves his cell unless it's to visit the closed visits room. you know, in hopes that you'll come..."

obsessed much? where was this energy six years ago? "that's got nothing to do with me."

"please, ma'am. he won't listen to anyone, and we are unable to place him into special facilities as he doesn't emit any cursed energy." ah, he's begging? that's a first. you never would've thought you'd hear a person who works at a prison begging.

cursed energy, cursed energy, this talk again and again and again. "urgh..." you take a deep breath. your options are limited, and they won't stop calling until they can get that lunatic to calm down... surprise, surprise, you really don't want to go.

but if you were really uninterested in him, wouldn't you have already spent the bail money that's been sat on the counter for ages, neatly concealed in an envelope? wouldn't you have paid off all of your debts already? "will i— hm..." choose your words carefully, goddamn it. "can i get a reward of some sort if i go? money?"

"yes, yes! please do visit. there's nothing we can legally do to him in check anymore." ...you think this guy sounds a little too eager.

damn toji and his "supernatural powers", or else you wouldn't get yourself into this mess. finally, after your moment of silence, you respond. "okay. i'll visit."

"thank you—!" you cut off the line.

"fucking bastard..." you drop your phone on the counter, running your hands through your hair and over your face. "stressing me out for what? you don't even love me." your words turn into whispers. with haste, you rummage through your back pocket, trying to find those last few cigarettes, but as your hands were occupied, your eyes moved over to the ashtray that was collecting dust on top of the microwave. oh, right... you don't smoke anymore because there's no ventilation indoors.

you'd have to head out if you wanted to, but then megumi would be in the apartment on his own. and nobody can babysit, because you don't have anybody to ask to babysit. great, you can't smoke until monday. it's a friday afternoon. you have two whole days to get through!

you know for a fact your addiction won't hold out for that long.

[lorhaghanima]

so, it finally happened. writers of the hotd finally destroyed everything good about it, any potential it once had, all for some kind of... agenda?

they were destroying greens slowly during the whole season two. aemond, being hateful and vengeful, but not towards ones, who deserve it (the blacks), no - to aegon, his brother, his king. aemond not having any interaction with alys rivers, instead of it the whole season and a potentially large part of their relationship was given to daemon - prophecies, visions, support in war, romantic implications. helaena, whose scene of great loss was cut, happened because of incompetence of writers royal guards (absolutely impossible for a setting), somehow her mother's affair (which is also impossible, since there's know way criston could be the only and personal protectpr of helaena and kids), and she was robbed of her burden (choice between sons) and her grieve (she is already unhappy most of the time, not cheerful, not beloved, and her loss doesn't haunt the narrative the way it should - the way it traumatized the whole family daeron who). aegon crippled not in battle and with glory, but by betrayal of his own brother (supposed to be his supporter), also deprived of his rightful grieve and anger, and even his dragon - the most beautiful, the most loyal, sunfyre, so important for the original story and our understanding, how strong and unbreakable this bond can be - erased to one scene. alicent - oh, my sweet alicent, i will remember the one, who could've been - the one we lose completely. alicent, who always loves and protected the monstrosity and beauty and destiny of motherhood and queenhood, what have they done to you? alicent, who stands in front of dragon, to protect aegon (at least try to protect him), alicent, who cuts her husband's beloved daughter and heir to the throne because all of the injustice done to aemond, alicent, who loves, loves, loves, her sweet daughter helaena (even in first part of season two she says - but what have they done to my daughter?). alicent, the actual queen, alicent, beloved by the smallfolk, alicent, respected by the council, alicent, loyal to her family to the core. where did you go, my beloved?

And to the worst part - all of this was done for one purpose - to remind us once again about this targaryen supremacy. that they are chosen ones, that they are supposed to save everyone, that they are gods, not men, and they will not be punished by the story, instead - they will be victimised, they will be martyred, they will be rewarded for cruelty. The blacks have only two options in season two - they are either absurdly boring (cause they can't have any flaws, and supposed to be heroic - that's why it safer to make them blank and dull), or they are chosen, special, destined - to rule westeros, to ride dragons, to get whatever they want. this, of course, are qualities of the right kind of targaryens - the blacks, the connected with daenerys ones, not the whole family, obviously. This is the reason, why rhaenyra has nothing to do with the death of a child, somehow goes to the king's Landing and tries negotiations with alicent, breaks up with not-so-perfect daemon, tames bronze fury just because she can, and acting incredibly passive most of the season. This is the reason, why we don't have nettles - girl of color, of unknown birth, younger and more beautiful, who tames the dragon using only her wits, survives the story, surpasses the tragedy. of course we don't have you, dear nettles - you are a mirror, where targaryen, mostly daemon and rhaenyra, were supposed to see their flaws.

I remind you, that hotd is supposed to be an interpretation of a very specific story. One where dragons dance and house targaryen falls. One where smallfolk kills the dragons, where dragons are monsters, destroying cities, and targaryens are false gods and precarious rulers. The cursed war - kin against kin. The narrative, where everyone is dead long before the beginning, everyone is doomed. It's not supposed to praise house targaryen, on the contrary - it says 'look, what they've done, look, what they do', 'look, how treacherous, flawed, hypocritical, unnatural, brutal, unreliable they ALL are, even to each other', and what is most important - 'look, they can be killed, look, they can fall, look the dragons and their riders bleed, and we can destroy them'.

and all of this potential, all of this greekish kind of tragedy, lost... and i have no idea, what for.

[anxiousnerdwritings]

I can totally imagine that, after getting absolutely no where, Jokerized!twin darling just has an Azula-level breakdown. Especially if the Batfam or God forbid Damian somehow manages to subdue the unpredictable mess. There's no way that Twin!Reader doesn't resent Damian to a degree, especially after everything he put them through... so seeing his twin brother not only be accepted but also find a family that was willing to have him? While Twin!Darling was just used and abused in some shape or form? Absolutely breaking down!

Twin!Reader wholeheartedly holds an immense amount of resentment towards both Damian and Talia. I really like the idea that Twin!Reader was more akin to being that of a normal child born outside of a family full of assassins than to acting like one who was. Like, Twin!Reader was on par with Damian when it came to the proficiency of their training but the mentality just wasn’t there for them. They couldn’t just aimlessly kill, they couldn’t just walk away with someone’s blood on them and not feel something. Not only that, they just weren’t emotionless to any degree like how their mother and brother so easily were. They laughed, they cried, they felt fear, they felt hurt. Like, I’ve had this scenario in my head for a bit of there being a thunderstorm or a blizzard and Twin!Reader seeking out Damian because they’re scared, they sneak into his room and they just want comfort. They just want to be together with their twin brother in their moment of need. And Damian begrudgingly allows it cause they won’t go away no matter what he says but he still makes comments about how weak they are for something as ridiculous as a storm to have them acting like this and that the Reader better be out before mother finds out. I especially like this kind of scenario being what Twin!Reader holds onto when they need something no the better side to look back on. It didn’t happen often, nor did it come without berating, but there were a few moments that Twin!Reader had with Damian that they’ve held onto, that they’ve cherished.

I also really like the idea of Talia having tried to kill Twin!Reader behind Ra’s back, leaving them for dead only for them to survive and that’s where we go from there. I think it really adds to the whole familial betrayal thing and gives more to the Reader eventually going off the rails, especially as they’re in search of somewhere to belong, for someone who willingly and genuinely wants them for them. It makes it even more of a surprise and gut punch respectively for Damian, Talia, and Ra’s when the Reader pops back up. Especially, after being Jokerized.

All their life, Twin!Reader as been used and abused in some way, shape, or form. And even after being Jokerized that’s all they’re met with. Even if it isn’t to the same extent it was with Talia and Damian, these new people the Reader is trying to find belonging in all have ulterior motives. They want to use the Reader against Batman (or one of the other main people the Reader’s been associated with), they want something to have and hold over Batman’s (or whoever else’s) head. That’s all it is, at least in the beginning. Eventually these people do come to have some amount of care for the Reader but by then it’s too late and the Reader is in the wind and on to the next one.

I do really love the idea of Damian and Twin!Reader sharing their love for animals. I especially love the thought of the Reader’s first pet/companion being a hyena Joker and Harley (probably just Harley) gifted them after their initiation into the Clown Family. That hyena would mean the absolute world to the Reader, as far as the Reader was concerned it was their first friend and the first thing that ever stayed around for them. Wherever the Reader went, so did it. I love the thought of the hyena being protective of the Reader, sticking close to them for both security and comfort. The hyena very quickly becomes the only thing that Twin!Reader truly cares about anymore. Not to mention, there’s no doubt that after everything Twin!Reader’s been through before and after being Jokerized they have constant nightmares, even some night terrors, and the only one there for them is their loyal hyena. It’s there to curl around them protectively, to give them a warmth they’re not used to and a sense of being looked over that they’ve never felt before. I can even see the hyena bringing the Reader snacks to remind them to eat and take care of themself.

I can really see the Jokerized!Twin!Reader being thrown into an all out breakdown if their hyena died, especially if it died protecting them (whether from the batfamily or some rogue rando). That was their only friend, the only thing that truly ever cared about them and now they had nothing anymore. They had no one. They were lost all over again. If any of the batfamily members had anything to do with the Reader’s precious hyena’s death there would never be any forgiveness. If someone else were the reason for the hyena’s death than the Reader wouldn’t think twice about killing them and getting revenge for their beloved companion. Either way, no matter who caused the Reader’s hyena’s death I can see the batfamily all trying to subdue them from enacting any revenge on whoever. No matter how feral and berserk the Reader is in the moment, no matter how hard they fight, how hard they hit, I see Bruce, Jason and Damian especially not letting go of them. They hold the Reader the entire time, unrelenting in their grasp no matter how hurt they get in the process. If the Reader is as unrelenting as they are then they’ll have to knock them out. From there the family will take Jokerized!Twin!Reader home, where they’ll be safer, where the family can watch over and be there for them.

After their breakdown, there is no way in hell, Damian and Bruce especially will be able to go on with the Reader not being with them. Seeing how absolutely destroyed they’ve become, how much of a broken husk they’ve been turned into after everything they’ve been through, Damian and Bruce can’t allow anything more to happen to their sibling/child. No matter what it takes, how long it takes, Damian and Bruce aren’t giving up on Jokerized!Twin!Reader. They will save them, they will put them back together again. They will be the family that the Reader should have had all along.

God forbid if Ra’s was there to see his precious grandchild breakdown like that in front of him. Damian and Bruce be damned, he’s taking them home with him and Talia will be thoroughly dealt with for her part in all of this, in destroying his pride and joy.

[ryin-silverfish]

Ask/Writing Masterlist (irregularly updating)

Ryin(阿璎), 23. She/They. First Gen Chinese student. Ryin_Silverfish on AO3. Currently hyperfixating on old Chinese novels. casual Zhiguai tales and LMK enjoyer.

Investiture of the Gods/FSYY:

Why are the Daoist immortals fighting?

Did Yuanshi Tianzun manipulate Shen Gongbao?

Chan, Jie, and possible prejudice against yaoguai

Azure Lion and the other Bodhisattvas' steeds in FSYY

Daji's fox form in FSYY Pinghua

The historical Su Daji

Is Shen Gongbao a yaoguai?

Are all yaoguai irredeemable monsters in FSYY?

Ao Bing and the dragons Nezha fought

Does deification wipe your memory and personality?

Bi Gan and the Great Fox Massacre

More discussion about prejudice against yaoguai

How old was Su Daji the human when she died?

Differences between FSYY novel and Pinghua

Musing on FSYY's view of fate and its possible effects on Yang Jian

Master Yuding

The messy marriages of FSYY

Is Daji a goddess in the novel?

Names of immortal masters in FSYY

Just for fun: the FSYY drinking game

Nezha's age in FSYY

Nezha's death and resurrection in FSYY

What happened to the original Daji?

Lady Shiji aka the Rock Demoness

Chinese Fox Spirits:

Auspicious/Demonic Foxes

More on fox spirits

The inner core of foxes

Foxes and their association with Fire

Notable fox spirits

The foxes of 狐狸缘全传

Has Daji ever been worshipped as a goddess?

Fox masks

The foxes of Liaozhai

Weaknesses and abilities of fox spirits

Three resource collections on Chinese fox spirits: 1, 2, 3

Human-fox hybrids

Can foxes and their descendents magically know if someone's telling the truth?

The magical properties of fox saliva

Fox exams and Heavenly Foxes

Are male foxes more malicious?

More on fox exams

Offerings to fox spirits

The "Lady Fox Immortal"

Chinese Mythos in General:

The Precious Scroll of Erlang

Into the Erlang-verse: Li, Zhao, Yang

Can immortal masters romance their students?

Why we don't power-rank characters in God-Demon novels

A brief overview of Chang'e

On Chinese Religion and "Respect"

The 28 Lunar Mansions

Can the Heavenly Emperor be replaced + a primer on dynastic successions

A Guide to the Chinese Underworld (and what it isn't)

Is Nüwa JE's daughter?

Weaver Girl

Can yaoguais a/o their descendents enter the Celestial Bureaucracy?

Queen Mother of the West and her husband(s)

Bixia Yuanjun, Lady of Mt. Tai

Erlang's dad

The story that gives us the name "Yang Jian"

On the transformation of Erlang's image (and his relationship with JE in JTTW)

Erlang's mom, Lotus Lantern, and a neat little discovery

Erlang cameos in other stories and Zajus

Erlang's mom-saving story in Chinese operas

Child Manjushri, or: the absurdity of pinning a definitive age on gods

The strange modern ship of Mengpo/Yuelao, and Mengpo's myths

The half-beast form of QMoW

Does Erlang have a wife/love interest?

Nezha's mom

A overview of Gonggong and his mythos

Some introductory sources on the Chinese Underworld

A side-by-side comparison of Nezha's backstory in JTTW and FSYY

Mythos-inspired Worldbuilding:

Dragons of the Four Seas

LMK S5 and a possible "Celestial Council of Regents" AU

LMK S5 Fix-it: the Four Divine Beasts

Character/Story Analysis (JTTW + LMK)

Heart and Mind: Tripitaka

Local Lion Uncle enjoyer goes on a rant

On SWK and his fear of death

Why the Dead People Supreme Court?

No, seriously, why?

Chinese Underworld =/= Christian Hell

LMK S4, Havoc in Heaven, and revolutions

Why I dislike the "class warfare" reading of Havoc in Heaven

In Defence of Li Jing...ha, as fucking if

On Yin-Yang, Chaos/Order, and the Harbringer

JTTW's view on the Three Religions

Disjointed S5 Reactions

"Chaos doesn't work that way in traditional Chinese Cosmology"

Xiangliu, the Nine-headed Bird, and Jiutou Chong

Lotus Lantern: The Summaries

Part 1: Precious Scroll of Chenxiang

Part 2: The Epic of Prince Chenxiang

Part 3: Lotus Lantern 1.0 + 2.0

Part 4: Chenxiang and the Male-Female Swords

My Fanfics:

Climbing the Sky

The Wild Son

Bodhicitta

The Serpent and the Deluge

South Seas Sojourn

Journey of the Gods AU sideblog

[suiana]

Could I please request some yandere prince headcannons? Darling’s probably a servant or guard!

I love princes! even more if they're unhinged 😇

✎ yandere! prince headcanons . . .

✎ warnings . . .

― manipulation, violence, degradation, obsession etc.

(gn! reader x male yandere! oc)

✎ yandere! prince who was the youngest child of the empire's royal family. obviously being spoiled with riches since young, getting anything and everything he desired.

✎ yandere! prince who was the star of the empire, being perfect in almost every aspect. from sword fighting, to academics, to even his looks. he was almost like a gift from the gods above! if only it weren't for his violent tendencies when he gets mad.

✎ yandere! prince who always showcases the best side of himself to the masses. after all, he is the face of the royal family. being the perfect son, he was worshipped like a deity. and what deity would be a cruel one? no, he had to be perfect. he had to be the perfect, kind, caring and respectful son of the empire.

✎ yandere! prince who releases his pent up anger and stress on those around him in subtle ways. from making his personal servants feel lesser than him to choking his advisor when he made a small mistake... i mean, being asked to be perfect all the time has really taken a toll on his mental health, y'know?

✎ yandere! prince who has always had the same group of servants serve him since young. no one else was qualified to serve him! he's their perfect prince after all, he should only be receiving the best. it's also to prevent his unruly habits from getting leaked. it would be really disastrous if word got out that their beloved prince was secretly violent!

✎ yandere! prince who never thought about those below him before he met you. you were such a clumsy little thing! accidentally bumping into him while running down the palace hallways... god, you were so freaking adorable. and the way you actually didn't know who he was until his advisor shouted at you... oh, you had him intrigued. there was someone who dared to not know him? how interesting indeed...

✎ yandere! prince who requests for you to serve him. can you imagine the shock on the head maid's and head butler's faces when they heard that their perfect prince wanted an inexperienced and new servant to serve him? oh how jealous they were! someone like you? serving the famed prince? that was something that the lowly people could only dream of!

✎ yandere! prince who only becomes more intrigued by you when you treat him like a friend instead of your master. he's the prince and you're just a lowly commoner! and he even berated you and called you a peasant to try and make it clear to you about your status difference! did you have so much kindness in your heart that you overlooked that? or were you just a dumb klutz??

✎ yandere! prince who realizes that you were truly just a kind person when you defended a child from getting bullied. you didn't even have any benefit from doing that so what made you do that? you were truly so interesting...

✎ yandere! prince who has his obsession with you solidified when you reply his question. "do i need a reason to help another person?" oh my...you were far too precious... it's truly a shame that you happened to end up catching his attention because he's never letting you go now. no... most definitely not. especially after you made him realize that there existed such a kind person. someone truly untainted, someone who deserved the title of a deity way more than him.

✎ yandere! prince who still treats you like dirt when others are around. he feels slightly bad but...it's still amusing to see you act so submissive and obedient. he wishes he could worship you publicly though, you deserve it. but he can't. for if he does, what will become of the royal family? royalty no more and just a mere mockery is what will be of him if he just as much as treats you like an equal. so for now, he'll have to worship you behind closed walls in the dead of the night.

✎ "little dove, get on your knees and clean my shoes. there's dust on them."

[zepskies]

Smoke Eater - Part 1

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

AN: "Smoke eater": a self-appointed slang term for a firefighter.

Happy Hispanic Heritage Month!! 🥳❤️‍🔥 You guys really warmed my heart with all the excitement for this story. I'm very happy to bring you the first chapter. I hope it doesn't disappoint! 😘

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 4,000 Warnings: Tense situations, brief mention of claustrophobia, and a good old-fashioned meet cute.

Part 1: "Class and Style"

Come on, come on, come on!

The toe of your heeled foot tapped on the floor as you, once again, waited for the elevator to make its slow climb back up to the 22nd floor.

In your hand was a tray carrying two steaming lattes: one small, plain hazelnut, and the other a venti caramel frappe with all the sugary bells and whistles. Complete with extra whipped cream, because your boss was a goddamn child.

I shouldn’t even be getting his coffee, you thought sourly. This is his assistant’s job!

And if this elevator didn’t climb any faster, having to stop at Starbucks during your meager lunch break for your boss’s morning fix would make you late for a very important sales meeting.

“Let’s go, Betsy. Come on,” you muttered. “You can do it.”

Yes, you’d named the contraption that usually managed to carry you all the way to your correct floor. When she wasn’t broken down for maintenance. 

The four walls of the narrow elevator shook and creaked as it cleared the 20th floor. You inhaled sharply, but resisted the urge to grab the inner guardrail. This thing was old, just like the rest of the building.

But then, Betsy screeched and made an abrupt stop.

You were woefully unprepared. You slid in your heels and gasped—both at the jolt, and at the hot lattes tipping out of your hand and down your blouse and skirt.

Shit!

You didn’t even have time to wince at the scalding hot coffee, as you nearly rolled an ankle in the spillage. Luckily, you were able to grab at that guardrail. You sucked in relatively even breaths as you realized what happened…

The elevator stopped, but not on your floor.

“Oh, God…” you uttered, staring up at the red, digital “21” above the metal doors. It was blinking, but not moving. Just like you weren’t moving. Which meant…you were stuck.

Okay, not a big deal. You’re fine, you thought, trying to calm yourself. All you had on you was your phone, your ID, and your credit card. You’d decided to leave your purse in your desk, since you were just walking across the street.

But that was okay! Because you still had your phone…

“No service. Of course,” you muttered, raising your phone high to try and get a bar. This elevator was a dead zone, and it always had been. Fucking hell…

So you did the only thing you could think of.

You shouted for help.

You pressed the emergency alarm, several times.

You could hear it blare and echo outside of the chamber of the elevator, but no one seemed to hear you. Your work building was huge, made up of several departments and hundreds of employees here at Savage & Co. There was always plenty going on, especially in the middle of the morning.

Maybe no one could hear you.

“All right. Don’t…don’t panic,” you told yourself. Even though your heart was beginning to pound.

You finally pressed the “Call” button outlined in red. You didn’t know if it worked; half the floor buttons on the console didn’t even light up anymore.

But to your relief, the sound of a phone line ringing echoed through the small speaker. After a few rings, someone answered.

“Fire Department.”

���Oh, God. Yes!”

With a hand on the rail, you managed to kneel down next to the speaker. Your free hand brushed a strand of hair away from your dewy face. There was no AC in here, and you were starting to sweat. Thankfully, the rest of your hair was pulled up into a clip.

“I’m stuck in one of the oldest elevators known to man,” you told the disembodied voice.

“Sorry to hear that. What’s your name?”

You gave them your name, along with the address of your company’s building. The voice promised that they were dispatching a until to come and get you out soon.

“How soon is soon?” you asked.

“…About forty-five minutes, give or take.”

Jesus Christ.

You baked inside Betsy for close to an hour. While your makeup slowly melted, you found a corner of the ground that wasn’t covered by a coffee puddle, and you pressed the alarm button at random intervals. Still, no one seemed to hear it. You used the empty coffee tray to try and fan yourself.

Your phone was also useless. You tucked that along with your credit card into your bra for safe keeping. You’d definitely missed your meeting about the prospective Zimmerman account—one you and your coworker Josh were competing to nail down, as the top performers in the sales department. You couldn’t even catch up on your emails.

Damn it, Nick’s gonna chew my head off, you thought. But then you frowned, your brows furrowing. Well, it’s his fault for not maintaining this damn building. And for ordering a damn caramel frappe! What is he, a 12-year-old girl?

Your skirt was still sticky on the side. With a sigh, you leaned your head back against the metal wall and closed your eyes. Ah, well. At least I’m not claustrophobic.

“Fire Department!” called a man’s voice from above. “Can you hear me down there?”

You gasped and opened your eyes. Your gaze raised heavenward, and you called out to the voice.

“Hello?!”

“Ah, we found you. You okay, ma’am? Are you hurt?”

“Y-Yes…” You shook your head, even though he couldn’t see it. “I mean, no. I’m not hurt.”

“Good. That’s what I like to hear,” he said. “You’re stuck between two floors, but we’re gonna get you out, all right?”

“Okay.” You sucked in a shaky breath and grabbed the rail so you could get back onto your feet. “I’m stuck on the 21st floor right?”

“Well, in between 21 and 22. Hold on one sec.”

 You stood there with bated breath, just waiting for something to happen. You heard tools whirring, felt the elevator shutter for a moment, but it didn’t budge. Until you heard a thump on the roof. You looked up, but of course you couldn’t see what was happening.

Until a square patch in the roof was unscrewed and drawn back, revealing a firefighter in almost all his gear: wearing a gray shirt tucked into navy pants, red suspenders, black boots and gloves. All he was missing was a jacket and a hardhat.

He did wear a harness, and he held another one in his gloved hand, as well as a charming, almost boyish grin on his face.

“There you are,” he greeted.

You didn’t know if it was the lack of AC, or his ridiculously handsome features, but you felt your face heat up further.

“Uh, hi,” you said, very eloquently. You offered a smile back. “Thanks for the rescue.”

“Well, we haven’t gotten there yet, but we will,” he said, still with that grin as he lowered the second harness down to you. “I’m Dean. What’s your name?”

You gave it to him as you took the harness.

“Nice to meet you, despite the circumstances,” he said. “I’m sure you didn’t have this on your bingo card today, did ya?”

You snorted in response. “Not even in my fortune cookie.”

It earned an amused look from him. Then he proceeded to instruct you on how to put the harness on around your waist and shoulders and clip the straps together.

“Okay, good. Now tug it, make sure it’s tight enough,” Dean said, motioning with his hand. You obliged him.

“Perfect.” He nodded, before crouching down and lowering his hands through the compartment. “All right, now. Just take my hands. I’m gonna pull you up.”

You looked up at him, then and at the narrow escape hatch with uncertainty.

“It’s okay,” he said, noting your reluctance (and your white-knuckle grip on the guardrail). “It’s perfectly safe.”

“Yeah, I doubt anything about this situation is safe,” you replied wryly. You glanced at the elevator’s metal walls. Even now, they groaned under Dean’s shifting weight.

“I mean, I’m sure you’re strong and all,” you said, with a vague gesturing hand at him. You couldn’t quite tell from your limited vantage point, but Dean could barely fit his broad shoulders through the hole he’d opened up. He was probably a big guy.

Still, you didn’t like the idea of your legs dangling in mid-air. 

“I’m a woman, but I’m still a full-grown person,” you said, your brows beginning to furrow in worry. “People are heavy, and this thing is rickety as hell, and that’s a really tiny window…”

“All right,” Dean gently interrupted. He looked like he was trying hard not to chuckle, and you didn’t appreciate it…even though you were biting your lip, trying not to smile too (more in embarrassment).

“I promise you, the line’s got you,” he said. And he tugged on the sturdy rope that connected to your harness.

His eyes met yours directly, firm and assuring. They were green, you noticed, even in this fluorescent lighting.

“More importantly, I’ve got you. And there’s no way I’m gonna let you fall,” he said, with what seemed like every conviction in the world. “Just take my hands.”

He leaned in further so you could reach him.

…And damn it, you believed him.

Staring into his eyes, you found the courage to suck in a deep breath and release the guardrail. You reached up and let his hands curl tightly around yours. You gripped him right back.

“All right, pull up!” he called back over his shoulder.

You couldn’t see them, but you heard the voices of other firefighters as they slowly retracted Dean’s harness line as well as yours. When he was able to plant his feet on the roof of the elevator again, you held your breath as he pulled you all the way up as well.

You lost a heel along the way though. It fell off your foot and hit the bottom of the elevator below.

“Woops,” Dean said. His arms wrapped around you, and he held you securely against him when your heel (and bare foot) also met the elevator roof, a bit awkwardly. You both peered back down through the square hole.

“Want me to get that for you?” he offered, with another one of those grins.

Now you knew you were blushing. Stop it!

You shook your head as you clung to his arms. You felt the strength in them, and it steadied you, along with the easy way about him that said he was more than comfortable with the perils of rescuing trapped women from old-ass elevators.

“Don’t even worry about it,” you told him. “I just want to get the hell out of here.”

Dean chuckled then. “I hear ya. Let’s go, then.”

He glanced up and called out to a “Benny” and a “Gordon.” You assumed they were the men securing the harnesses that held you and Dean.

“Okay. You ready, sweetheart?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” you replied with a nod, even as you bit your lip again at the endearment. Usually when men called you sweetheart, (like your boss), it was like nails on a damn chalkboard.

But somehow, it didn’t seem so sleezy coming from the charming fireman.

You craned to looked up at his face. He was much taller than you, even with half your heels. Dean met your eyes again, and for a moment, you were tense. The elevator shaft was dark and cold, but the light from the open doors of the floor above allowed you to see his face, decorated lightly with stubble, and his brown hair that spiked to one side.

Your mouth parted, though you didn’t have a clue of what to say next…

You were saved when the lines went even more taut, and the firefighters on the floor above brought you and Dean all the way up to the 22nd floor. He helped you reach out to a bearded fireman, who supported your arms and carried you out of the elevator shaft, onto solid ground.

A small crowd had formed in the lobby. Zachariah the CFO was there, along with the building manager, and your friend Andréa, who looked both worried and relieved to see you. And even your boss, Nick, came forward to meet you once Benny and Dean helped you take off the harness.

“You’ve had a busy morning,” Nick drawled.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “You could say that.”

Technically, he was everyone’s boss: Nick Savage, CEO of Savage & Co. He’d inherited the company from his father. However, Nick believed his one sad year of college business classes made him an expert on running your sales department with a firm hand.

“Well, it’s good to see you’re all right,” he said. Though his eyes glanced down your stained, white blouse, down to your bare foot. His gaze made your spine prickle. And not in a good way.

You crossed your arms on reflex. “I know I missed the meeting—”

“We recorded it. You’ll be able to watch it later, take notes, all that good stuff,” he said, his head tilting in that lazy way of his. He gestured at you with a finger. “But, uh…once you’re done cleaning up, think you could nip back out and get me that coffee? Since, you know, you’re kind of wearing it.”

Behind you, the team of firefighters discreetly watched the scene while packing up their gear—some with curiosity and bemusement, others (namely Dean) with a subtle frown.

You were livid.

But you managed to keep it down, just beneath your skin, as you bent down and took off your remaining heel.

“I’m requesting the afternoon off as personal time,” you informed him with (mostly) all due professionalism. There was a fire in your eyes, however, that not even you could tame.

“But don’t worry,” you said. “I’ll still land the Zimmerman account by Friday.”

You turned and dropped your shoe into a nearby garbage can. You didn’t want to be reminded of your boss every time you saw the coffee stains.

Before you left, you stopped in front of Dean and the other firefighters.

“Thank you very much for all your help,” you said, giving them all a smile. Your gaze lingered on Dean, who smiled back at you and nodded, his hands resting on his belt.

“You got it, sweetheart.”

Your lips twitched. Then you continued on your way towards the exit door, to the stairwell. You shoved it open and walked bare-footed up to your office to get your purse. 

You’d left Nick silently fuming in the middle of the hall. You knew there wasn’t too much he could do with an entire crowd of witnesses.

He soon huffed and let your behavior roll off his back, as he became distracted by Zachariah and the building manager asking about the last time the elevator was properly serviced.

Meanwhile, Dean and Benny shared an amused look as their team rolled out.

Damn, Dean thought, remembering how you’d stopped in your little storm out, just to thank them. And how you’d held your head high as you walked away on bare feet.

He could admit, you had both class and style.

“Really, Grandpa. I’m fine,” you insisted.

Now in the comfort of your own home, and in your pajamas after a nice hot shower, you stirred a pot of chicken soup for your Grandpa George. He eyed you from the kitchen table with a measure of suspicion.

“Well, it’s lucky for you we’ve got a responsive Fire Department,” he said. “In the sleepy little town I grew up in, you’d be lucky if the whole damn building didn’t cave in before somebody got to ya.”

You shot him an amused look.

“Thanks. Makes me feel better about stepping into an elevator ever again.”

George seemed to consider the prospect, but he soon waved a vague hand.

“Ah, you’ll be fine,” George said, waving a hand. “Even if one of the cables snapped, you’d have three more holdin’ you up. And it should only need one cable to support the compartment, make sure the whole thing doesn’t fall to the damn ground.”

Your grandfather had been a technician for sixty years, so he knew a little thing about commercial building maintenance. However, right now, he wasn’t making you feel any better about your somewhat perilous experience. You paled a bit at the thought of cables snapping, leading to a long, Tower of Terror-style drop.

Except there’d be nothing to catch you at the bottom.

“It’s okay. I’ll just start walking up all 22 floors up to my office every day,” you said, smiling wryly. “I’ll finally have thighs like Wonder Woman.”

George laughed, though it soon ended on a cough. You eyed him with a frown as you ladled out a bowl of soup for him. You went over to him, both to set down the bowl in front of him and rub his back.

“Still with that cough. I don’t like it,” you said. “I’m making an appointment with your doctor.”

George shook his head and grabbed his glass of water.

“Just something caught in my throat.”

“Mhmm,” you replied. He was the absolute king of downplaying. It used to drive your grandma nuts.

You sighed and raised a hand to your forehead. An ache was building behind your eyes. Or maybe it had been there since you left work early today, and you were just now realizing how tightly wound your spine was.

“You okay?” George asked. You read the concern in his eyes and tried to relax your face from its scrunching.

“Yeah. Just a tension headache.”

“Hmm. Maybe you should spend less time worrying about me, and more time taking care of yourself,” he pointed out. “You had a stressful day. Why don’t you go relax? Or better yet, go out! Go see your friends. Get in a bar fight. Something productive.”

A grin curved your lips as you raised a brow.

“A bar fight would make me more productive?”

George grinned up at you. “Well, at least it’d get you out of the house.”

You pursed your lips. There was a reason you didn’t go out very often, and your grandfather knew it. You were the only one who could watch out for him now, even if he didn’t think he needed it. Your mouth opened to reply, but before you could, your cell phone rang through the house.

For a moment, the two of you stared at one another. Until George raised his brows.

“You should get that, huh?” he said.

You narrowed your eyes at him, despite your small smile, and you raised a finger as you went to get your purse over in the living room.

“We’re not done, old man,” you said over your shoulder.

“Oh, believe me. I know,” he grumbled, delving into his soup with a spoon.

Meanwhile, you fished your phone out of your purse and answered. A genuine, if tired smile graced your lips. It was your best friend, Andréa. She worked with you at Savage & Co., over in Marketing as a graphic designer.

As fate would have it, the two of you were hired on the same day five years ago. She’d invited you to lunch that day, and from then on, you two had been rocking through corporate life like Thelma and Louise—if Thelma had been a Greek artist and Louise had been a sarcastic saleswoman. 

“Hey, Dre,” you greeted.

“Hello, my love. Congratulations for surviving your near-death experience, and getting to serve Nick Savage a bit of humble pie,” she teased. “I thought you were going to lobby your Prada heel at his head.”

You huffed and plopped down on the couch with your feet up on the coffee table.

“First of all, let’s not be too dramatic. I was stuck in an elevator, not a Chilean mine shaft,” you said wryly. “Second, you really think I would throw away Prada? Even if it was coffee stained… Those were just my $30 Steve Maddens.”

And yet, they had been your most comfortable heels. Maybe you should just find some sensible flats in the back of your closet and be done with it. But you liked the height and confidence that a nice pair of heels gave you—especially in that office filled with “Mad Men” wannabes.

Every male on your sales team thought he was Jon Hamm in a room full of George Costanzas.

Nick Savage was the worst out of all of them.

You dealt with it, however, and sometimes even thrived on being the only woman on the team. Mostly because you needed your job.

It paid well enough, but most of it went into the upkeep of your grandparents’ old house, and for the past few years, their extensive medical bills…

“Still, at least you got a Mission Impossible-style rescue out of it,” said Andréa. Her tone turned both leading and flirtatious. “Tell me you got that fireman’s number. Dear God Almighty, what a Grade-A Hottie.”

You chortled through your blush at remembering Dean, the firefighter who saved you. You could admit, he’d been one fine specimen of a man.

“Grade-A Hottie. What are we, in middle school?” you retorted. “Besides, he was just doing his job.”

“Ugh, you’re so pragmatic it hurts,” your friend lamented. “You really need to live a little, while you’re still hot and firm.”

You laughed fully at that one. “Yeah, I think taking the stairs from now on will help with the ‘firm’ bit.”

Just like the strength of the firefighter’s hold had been. You’d felt entirely secure after he’d pulled you up on the elevator roof. His arms had reassured you even more than the harness, if you thought about it. (And your face heated up further at said thought.)

“I do wish I could say thank you again, somehow,” you mused out loud, not really thinking about who exactly you were talking to.

“Oh, yeah?” Andréa said. You could practically hear her mischievous grin. It made you slightly nervous. “Well, it’s not unheard of for a grateful civilian to stop by a firehouse. You could bring him lunch or something!”

“Ah, I don’t know about that,” you said. Your instinct was to withdraw inward at the thought of putting yourself out there like that. Besides, you didn’t want to bother him while he was at work.

“What’re you talking about? Firefighters love food! Believe me, my cousin Meg is a paramedic,” Andréa said. Then she gasped. “Oh, girl. I have the perfect idea for you. Why don’t you bake something for the whole firehouse? That way it takes some of the pressure off, but you still get to see him.”

You became more contemplative then.

Bake something, huh?

Now, that you could do. Andréa knew all too well that the one thing that could get your gears turning was getting your apron on, as baking was your ultimate hobby. It made you feel creative, and damn-near stress free…

And her idea wasn’t too shabby, the more you thought about it. It was something kind that you knew you could do. And more than anything, you really did just want to say thank you, one more time.

You smiled.

“Okay. I think we have a plan.” However, your smile soon fell. “Wait, I have no idea what firehouse he works at.”

“Hmm, my cousin might know,” Andréa said. “Let me reach out to her…what’s his name again?”

“Dean,” you replied. Another small smile reached your lips, against your will.

“His name was Dean.”

AN: Ah, the first chapter! Launching a new story is always so exciting! 🥰 What did you think of the reader and Dean's first meeting?

Also, feel free to imagine Mark Pellegrino's "Nick" for this (I am). He didn't have a last name on the show, so I created one for this story, as he's going to be an important antagonist throughout.

And just so you guys know, my knowledge of the inner workings of fire departments and law enforcement will largely come from my own research and being a huge fan of procedurals, like Chicago Fire, Chicago Med, Law & Order, etc.

Yes, aspects are fictionalized on those shows, but a lot of it is rooted in real-life protocol and stories. All the love and respect for creator/executive producer Dick Wolf. 😂

...Oh, and the elevator scene was inspired by true events. (Yes, I've been stuck in an elevator before. 🫠 Two ridiculously hot firefighters pulled me out, but by then I was melting from the lack of AC, had no makeup, and was dressed like a female!Dean, plaid and all lmao.)

Anywho...

Next Time:

“Protect and serve,” Dean teased back. “That’s our motto, you know.”

“Isn’t that for police officers?” you quipped.

He chuckled a bit. “Hey, if the shoe fits.”

“Well…” you considered that with a tilt of your head, more seriously than he expected you to. You met him with a more earnest gaze. “I think it does.”

Right then, Dean had a feeling, deep in his gut, that he needed to know you.

Keep Reading: PART 2

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[maybe-im-dark]

The birth of Wolverpool

Deadpool zips through the multiverse with his usual panache, feeling pretty good about his little escapade. After the events of the Deadpool & Wolverine movie, he had this insane idea—why not find some more variants of Wolverine? Maybe spice things up, maybe find some new drinking buddies, and, well, maybe just mess with some timelines for the fun of it.

He lands in a bustling new dimension, boots crunching on fresh snow as he adjusts his red and black suit. The landscape looks vaguely familiar—a sprawling Canadian wilderness, of course. Typical Logan. But something’s… off.

Then he sees it. Standing atop a ridge in the distance is… himself? But wait. No. It’s… Wolverpool?

Deadpool’s eyes widen in shock, then gleam with pure joy. He rushes forward.

"Wolverpool, is that you?!" he shouts, practically vibrating with excitement.

Wolverpool, a brawny mix of Wolverine and Deadpool, stands tall. He’s wearing Deadpool’s trademark red-and-black suit, but with the classic Wolverine mask—those iconic pointed black ears stretching out from the sides of his head. There are claws coming out between his knuckles even. Deadpool stops dead in his tracks, dropping to his knees with hands clamped to his face in awe.

"Oh. My. God. I knew my dreams were insane but this—this is beautiful!" Deadpool exclaims, tears of joy threatening to spill. “This is the Deadpool-Wolverine fusion I didn’t know I needed!"

Wolverpool just stares, growling slightly.

"Okay, tough guy, let’s calm down—oh, look at those claws! So sharp! So stabby!" Deadpool reaches toward the claws, then thinks better of it and pulls back with a flourish. “Never mind, no need to lose a finger today."

But then, something catches his eye—a rift in the timeline. A shimmering distortion that beckons to him, curious and teasing. Unable to resist, Deadpool leaps through it with a quick, "Yolo!"

He emerges moments later, slightly disoriented but quickly shaking it off, when he hears some gruff voices ahead. Sneaking around a thick pine tree, he peeks out and sees—himself. And Wolverine.

But wait… Logan's not his usual self. He’s… heavily pregnant?

Deadpool’s jaw drops as he takes in the scene. Wolverine’s cradling his massive belly, leaning against a rock, his face twisted in pain. His breathing is erratic as beads of sweat drip down his furrowed brow. The version of Deadpool in this timeline is holding his hands, trying to help him through labor, though clearly at a loss for what to do.

"Holy chimichangas…" Our Deadpool gasps, slapping a hand over his mouth. He struggles to contain his laughter and amazement, his eyes sparkling with manic glee. "Logan's… in labour?!"

Deadpool can barely handle it. "Oh, this is the greatest thing I’ve ever seen. Forget the rest of the multiverse, I am never leaving this timeline!" he whispers to himself before straightening up and muttering, "Okay, keep it together, Wade. Just—be respectful. It’s a magical moment."

The scene escalates as Wolverine suddenly lets out a roar of agony, his claws instinctively popping out as he clutches his sides.

"Aaaaagh!" Wolverine screams. “This kid better be worth it!”

Pregnant Wolverine's belly tightens, his muscles rippling beneath the surface, and then—like something out of an alien movie—his belly bursts open with a sickening, fleshy pop. Blood splatters, and a small, crying infant crawls its way out of him, slick with fluids.

Our Deadpool nearly passes out. "What the cronenberg!" He stumbles back in disbelief, eyes wide in horror and awe. "Okay, that was NOT on my bingo card."

The alternate Deadpool quickly swoops in, catching the newborn with the reflexes of a practiced lunatic. With surprisingly tender care, he cleans off the tiny child and places it onto Wolverine’s chest, who—already healing—leans back against the rock, looking exhausted but relieved. His body rapidly knits itself back together, the gaping wound closing as if nothing ever happened.

"There you go, Wolvie," alternate Deadpool says with a grin, patting Logan’s shoulder. "Congratulations, papa. You’ve done good." He gestures to the baby on Wolverine's chest. "Our little bundle of chaos. Takes after both of us, huh?"

Our Deadpool stares, utterly speechless for once. He shakes his head, trying to process what he’s just witnessed. "Well, that was… surreal," he mutters. "Seriously, I’ve seen some weird crap, but this? Top five, easy."

As the baby coos on Wolverine’s chest, Wolverine grunts, shooting a glare toward both Deadpools. “You two better not be making a big deal outta this, or I swear, I’ll—"

Our Deadpool snaps his fingers. "No need for threats, big guy! I’ve got enough memories to keep me laughing for the next fifty years!"

As he steps back, ready to continue his journey through the multiverse, he whispers to himself, “Well… never thought I’d see the day Wolverine gave birth. Guess there really is a first time for everything.”

One last look at the bizarrely heartwarming scene, and Deadpool shakes his head with a grin. “Well, that was unexpected..”

And with that, he leaps back into the multiverse, ready for whatever absurdity comes next.

But even for him, this one was going to be tough to top.

[bruhstories]

change

summary: you and eren have been friends since forever. you also loved eren since forever. but eren is always bored, until he finally finds something worth changing for pairing: eren jaeger x fem!reader, mentioned eren x mikasa w/c: 4.6k warnings & content: toxic!eren (for the most part. man's got a god complex, okay?), female bodied reader, weed smoking, fingering, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected p in v sex, angst, fluff

a/n: not me coming back from the dead with this rubbish but hey, beats not writing at all i suppose

"I'm bored." 

Eren laid on his back, one hand under his head, the other holding the meticulously rolled spliff.

"Do you wanna play a video game?" You suggested, watching him blow rings of smoke. "I can beat you at Mortal Kombat again."

He snorted at your audacity before passing you the joint. 

"I mean I'm bored of my life. Nothing exciting ever happens." Eren sighed. He was tired of the same routine of waking up, checking Tinder, going to work, hooking up with some random girl, going to bed — rinse and repeat.

You liked routine. You flourished when you had a routine. Not that you were bothered by the occasional spontaneity, but routine could very well be your middle name.

"Change something, then. Change your job. Or even better, get a girlfriend." Your tone wasn't pleasant. 

"Who's gonna split the rent with you, then?" He sat up, taking the spliff from your fingers.

"Hey, I wasn't done-"

"You snooze, you lose, babe." Eren took one long drag before exhaling the smoke into your face.

Babe. 

You hated when he used pet names on you. It gave you a sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, he liked you back. But that was impossible. Eren didn't do relationships, he fucked. You knew that damn well when you could hear him through the walls of your flat almost every night. You felt bad for every single girl who thought they could change him. But you knew him better. You knew he would never change.

"I told you to not call me that." You leaned forward to take your spliff back, but Eren put his hand up. "Really, are you going to be a child now?" You pressed a hand on his knee to reach his fingers. 

"You didn't earn it." He shrugged, pushing you back.

"I rolled it, fuckface! Give it back!" You struggled, but Eren was bigger and stronger. 

"Fine." He smacked your hands out of his way and gripped your chin, fingers digging into your skin. "Open up." 

Even if you tried to keep your mouth closed, the force of his fingers parted your lips open. You could feel your cheeks heating up when Eren took a drag and blew the thick smoke into your mouth, his lips merely inches away from yours.

You hated him. No, you hated how he made you feel, how insignificant you were compared to him.

Despite always barking back at him, always getting into arguments, always beating him at Mortal Kombat, the reality was that you always gave in. If Eren told you to strip, you would. If Eren told you to suck his cock, you would. If Eren told you to jump off a cliff, you would. Not because he forced or manipulated you, but because you wanted to.

You were willing to give him everything, and he would take it all.

"Good girl." Eren sneered at your attempt to hide your face. It amused him.

"Fuck off, yeah?" 

"You know what would make my life less boring?" He clicked his tongue. 

"Enlighten me." You rolled your eyes.

"Fucking you."

Your lips parted but no sounds came out of your mouth. Those were words you wanted to hear since you were a teenager, since you first realised you liked him. Since you were 15. Ten years ago.

And the urge to surrender was growing stronger than your will to be dignified and respectable. Much stronger. 

"Eren, stop fucking about." You decided not to play his game. "Just because you're bored doesn't mean you have the right to, what, fuck me? Grow up, you're 25."

There, you told him off. Surely he would be mature enough to understand and respect your wishes. Only, you didn't give him a definitive no. And if Eren couldn't get what he wanted, he would take it.

His fingers ghosted over your shoulder, tugging at the strap of your tank top. You could've smacked his hand away, could've left the room. But you didn't, because you wanted him to convince you. You wanted to make him work for you, to earn you.

Eren didn't say anything, just toyed with the strap, lowering it down your arm. Bad time to not wear a bra, because from the way you were sat, he could perfectly watch the way your nipples protrude through the thin fabric of your top. 

You couldn't lie to yourself — you never wore a bra around Eren, unless you had just come from work. Desperation was written all over your face, every day, every minute of your miserable life, and living with him did not make things any better, it only made them worse. The only two reasons you agreed to be roommates were simple — you were poor and you were in love. You needed someone to split bills and rent with, and you hoped that living with Eren would make him have an epiphany about how much he loved you and wanted to be with you.

Boy, were you wrong.

Yet when he tugged at your strap harder, hooked his index finger and pulled it all down, you did not protest. You did, however, in one final attempt to maintain your dignity, cross your hands over your chest to cover your bare breasts.

He smiled — no, he sneered at how pathetic you were, because if there was one entertaining thing in Eren's boring life, it was how much you tried to fight your feelings for him. 

As if he didn't know. As if you thought he didn't know.

"Have you always been this cute?" His words disrupted your embarrassment, but you knew how foul he was, telling you what you wanted to hear. 

"Eren…" You trailed off, still covering your chest, still hiding your face. "Don't. Don't play with me. Don't say things you know will… hurt me."

"Hurt you?" He cocked a brow at you, almost convincing you that he was confused. "But, I'm giving you what you want, and you'll be giving me what I want."

The sudden realisation that Eren knew all this time how in love you were with him had you burst into tears. Not hysterical crying, heavy breathing or loud sobs, no. Just tear after tear after tear, rolling down your cheeks, down your lips, down your chin, as you cried with no noise. 

He felt bad. He really did.

It's not that he didn't care about you, God, no. Eren loved you — in his own way. He wasn't the type of man to hold your hand, kiss your forehead, cuddle you at night. But he showed his love in other ways — he took days off when you were sick, drove you anywhere and everywhere you wanted, ordered food almost every day. You always assumed he did that because you were friends, because you went way back. 

"I didn't mean to make you cry." His thumb grazed over your bottom lip. "Cross my heart and hope to die." Eren told you when he saw the condescending look on your face.

"For how long have you known?" You turned your head away and pulled your top back up.

He clicked his tongue. Eren wasn't in the mood to talk, he was in the mood to fuck. But you were not about to give yourself to him just yet.

"Long enough." He stubbed whatever was left of the spliff and pulled his legs under him in a lotus position. 

"Jesus Christ. And you enjoyed every bit of it, didn't you?" Venom dripped down your tongue. You watched him with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows. "You thrived on watching me be a fool. For fuck's sake, you moved in with me!"

"It's not like that." His voice was calm, but you could see him getting angry.

He'd changed. When he was a teenager he would show how angry he was. Everyone had to know Eren was fuming. But now? Now he was just calm, quietly imagining how he'd rip someone's heart out and eat it.

"It's not like that." You repeated, tone mocking him. "Pray tell, then, Eren, how it is. Because frankly I'm getting tired."

He rolled his eyes at you, and that only irked you more. You wanted to scream at him, to slap him, to make him understand just how much you wanted him.

"We both know why I didn't say anything, Y/N."

Oh.

Of course.

How could you be so stupid to think he ever reciprocated your feelings?

Silly you.

"Wow, I- no. This has to end." You punched the nearest wall, knuckles cracking at the impact. "Fuck!"

"Are you hurt-"

"Fuck you. I really thought I could get over it, you know? But it's been ten years! Ten years of my life wasted because I love you!" Your eyes widened and you brought a hand over your mouth.

Never have you imagined this was how you'd confess your feelings. 

You always thought it would be when Eren would be vulnerable, or perhaps when he would've realised he liked you. But not like this. Never like this.

"Oh, say it again." He closed his eyes and bit his lower lip. 

You couldn't tell if he was being serious or not, so when he opened his eyes, all he could see was you, angry, upset, confused.

Eren got up and closed the distance between the two of you. His lips touched your knuckles, his hand holding yours. 

"Say it again." He urged you, his emerald eyes burning holes into your own pupils.

"I… love you." Your voice was dying with each syllable, and you could feel your eyes getting wet with tears once more. 

"Again."

"Eren…"

"Please." He pulled you by the waist, burying his face in the crook of your neck, taking in your scent.

There were plenty of mixed signals coming from him, and he was a walking red flag. But you couldn't hold back, not anymore.

"I love you."

Eren wasn't bored of his life. Those three words made him realise that. He didn't need something exciting to happen, no. He needed someone who would dedicate their heart to him. He needed you.

"I don't think I could get tired of hearing this." His breath tickled your skin.

"Eren, please, I can't do this. Not when you don't even like me back." You tried to push him away, but he tightened his grip around your waist. 

"Oh, I like you. Just not how you expect me to." Eren pulled back enough to look into your eyes. "I'm not gonna take you on dates. I'm not gonna buy you flowers. I'm not gonna hold the door open for you." He admitted. 

"That's… alright." It wasn't. 

But if it meant you got to have a small piece of him, you were willing to ruin the rest of your life for him.

His hand slid under your top, but you were too far gone to protest. 

Once you confessed your feelings, you were his.

Your feet followed Eren as he dragged you to the bed. He sat you down, or better yet, he pushed you onto the mattress, and as you fell, so did your dignity and principles. Your embarrassment quickly turned into eagerness, because in that moment, you believed you'd never have another opportunity like this, even if it meant ruining your friendship, and potentially, the rest of your life.

Eren hovered over your body, and you tugged the waistband of his gray sweatpants, making him lean closer.

"Can I kiss you?" Your voice was timid and quiet.

"You can do more than that with that pretty mouth of yours." His confidence made your cheeks burn. He always made your body temperature rise, but this felt like a genuine fever dream. A good one. 

"Eren!" You squealed at his words, but before you knew it, his lips pressed onto yours, hot and needy. That was the uncontested truth — Eren needed you. Not some random girl who was eager to fuck him because of his undoubtedly good looks, but someone who would worship him like a king, a god. And you did that, in your own special way.

There was a time when Mikasa was like that, obsessed with Eren and eager to please him. But the difference was that, to him, Mikasa was mindless. Like a puppet on a string. She wouldn't contest his wishes, and gave up so easily. And Eren didn't want that. He wanted someone to be by his side because they saw eye to eye. Because you believed in his ideas and in him. Mikasa just wanted him. She didn't give two shits on what Eren thought, she would follow him anyway.

But you were like him. There was passion in your eyes and a fire in your heart, and Eren knew that. You preferred to not show that, giving your friends only optimism and kindness. He knew better. He knew the darkness in your soul. He knew you were the only one who could understand him. It only took him ten years to bring that to the surface. 

His mouth was on your neck, kissing, sucking and biting your skin, and your fingers were tangled in his disheveled hair, tugging at it with each wave of electricity running through your veins. Every time he touched you, it felt like you stuck your fingers in a socket.

"Need to feel you." Eren mumbled, one hand traveling down your chest, then your abdomen, sliding under your leggings and panties. "Fuck, you're so wet." He was dumbfounded at the effect he had on your body when his fingers pushed into your sloppy cunt.

For a brief moment, you regretted not being a virgin. You had hoped Eren would be your first, but back when you lost your virginity, you thought he would never want you, so you had a short relationship with some guy who fucked you pretty badly. Since then, you barely had any sex.

His thumb grazed over your swollen clit, and you instinctively arched your back, hitting your forehead against his. Clearly, you lacked experience. 

"Ren, I'm sorry-"

"It's alright." He took your hand and guided it to his cock. "You can make up for it."

You chewed on your lower lip and looked away, only for him to squeeze your wrist. 

"Look at me."

You nodded, palming his bulge through the fabric of his sweatpants. He relaxed, letting go of your wrist and untying the string of his waistband.

Adrenaline and fear fogged your brain. It all still felt so unreal, and part of you was scared you couldn't take him all. The other part wanted him to ruin you.

Eren pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it on the floor, leaving your cunt needy and alone.

"Go on." He urged you after seeing the lust and fear in your eyes. "I know you want it."

You sighed at the lack of gentleness, but you couldn't deny the obvious truth. 

Your manicured fingernails snatched the waistband and pulled it down, not caring about foreplay anymore. You've had enough foreplay in the past ten years. 

The sight of his cock made your mouth water, like some kind of rabid dog, but you didn't give a shit anymore. You didn't care if he saw you as a piece of meat, a toy or a puppet.

"I-" Words could not come out of your mouth. He was just stunning, with his toned body and his hair falling down his beautiful face. Shit, maybe he was a god.

"Well?" Eren snapped, impatient and irritated at the lack of reaction. You did react, just not like he expected you to.

Curious and confused, you reluctantly shifted your position, bringing your face closer to him. After pondering your next move, you parted your lips open and stuck your tongue out, dragging it up his shaft. 

"You can do better." He fisted your hair and pulled your head back. "You will do better, yeah?"

"Yes-" You stopped talking when he pushed his cock into your mouth, effectively forcing you to take as much of his length as possible.

The tears pooling at the corners of your eyes weren't from pain, nor the lack of air, but from pure ecstasy and joy. Finally, you were granted what you were longing for so long. 

You worked hard for Eren, hollowing your cheeks and sucking his cock. You didn't think your mouth could produce so much spit, but it did, and it dribbled down your chin, down his shaft, mixed with his delicious precum. Your lips were just so swollen you thought they went numb.

When Eren got tired of watching you struggle to breathe, he pulled your head back, allowing you to inhale as much air as possible. His fingers wrapped around your neck as he bent down to kiss you.

"Shit." He pulled back. "I taste good."

He was so full of himself, so vain and narcissistic that it made you want to hate him. But you couldn't lie to yourself — you loved every bit of him.

"Eren, please." You reminded him that you also needed attention by squeezing his hand.

He looked down on you, as if he were insulted by your audacity to speak.

"What? You want something?" He palmed his cock, slowly stroking it up and down.

You nodded.

"Show me, then."

Another sigh escaped past your lips. You should've known he'd make you work. He wouldn't just give you what you wanted so easily. 

Pulling your leggings down and letting them fall off the bed, you gently laid back on the mattress. Eren watched your every move, judging every single gesture, and so far, he seemed pleased. He seemed especially pleased when your hands reached your panties, tugging them and eventually pulling them down. You laid there, half naked and awkward. 

"I didn't tell you to stop, did I?" His voice was condescending. "Earn it, you filthy whore." Now he was impatient. 

Never had he called you a whore before. You didn't mind it, you just didn't expect it. And you didn't know what to do, either. After a few seconds of silence and deep thinking, you bit your lower lip and spread your legs. Unmoved by your attempt, Eren just kept on pumping his cock, seemingly enjoying himself more.

Fine, you'd try harder.

Your hand slowly traveled up your thigh until it reached your cunt, and your fingers gently rubbed circles against your clit. His eyes didn't leave your body. That was what he wanted, but it was still not enough. 

"Ren- oh, please-" Your breath hitched when arched your back. "Need you, please!"

"Need me to what? Say it, otherwise you won't be getting shit from me."

Did he have to humiliate you like that? Was it not enough that you just professed your love to him? Did he have to take everything from you?

The answer was yes, and you knew it all too well.

"Don't wanna say it…" You tried to fight your instincts.

"Is that so? Fuck yourself, then." He was dead serious. 

"No, wait!" You sat up, fingernails digging into his arms. "Please!"

Eren tucked your hair behind your ear and cupped your cheek with one hand. Despite how tender his gesture was, you knew his words would be cruel.

"Give yourself to me. All of you."

Something snapped inside your brain. He didn't have to tease you for you to want him. He didn't need to kiss you and make you melt. He knew exactly which buttons to push to break his toy.

"Take me, then!" You begged him. "Kiss me, fuck me, kill me if you want!"

Even Eren was shocked to see how much power he had over you. Power he would obviously abuse in the future. Sure, you could have said those things in the heat of the moment, said them to get what you wanted, but it wasn't just sheer lust — you were willing to let Eren ruin you.

You did ask nicely, and how could he not grant your wish?

His dark locks tickled your face when he leaned in to kiss you in what was, perhaps, the most animalistic kiss you've ever had. Oh, and you were putty in his hands, kissing him back, fisting his hair to pull him impossibly closer to you.

With your legs spread open for him, Eren pushed his cock into your needy cunt, and although he tried not to hurt you, he couldn't hide his eagerness to just fuck you already. Inch by inch, you rolled your eyes in both pleasure and pain — it's been a while since you got laid. Your fingernails raked up and down his back, leaving red marks all over his perfect skin, and you could tell he enjoyed it by his guttural growls and grunts.

"God, you're so tight." Eren bottomed out, allowing you to adjust to his size. 

Oh, and you adjusted, alright. He filled you up, both physically and emotionally, and no longer was there a void in your heart. He was your missing piece, but you weren't so sure if you were his.

Wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his back, you looked him in the eyes without a shred of shame.

"Please, Eren, please fuck me! I've waited so long-" You choked on your own words when his hips began to roll painstakingly slowly. But you loved every bit of it, so much so that you sunk your teeth into his shoulder to muffle your moans.

Eren wouldn't have that, of course. He had to hear you. He heard you every night, when you thought you were quietly fucking yourself, it was only natural he wanted to hear you when he was the one balls deep inside of you.

The sound of his name on your lips was divine, like a devout subject praying to her god. Because that was Eren to you — a god.

Your lips were swollen from all his devouring kisses, and you were sure he left a few bruises on your body after how hard he pinched and squeezed the plush of your hips, but you didn't care. You belonged to him, after all.

"Harder, fuck me harder!" You begged him. It's not that you wanted to finish, God no. You wanted this moment to last forever. But you needed to feel him more.

Eren pulled out, despite your request, only to flip you over and thrust back into your cunt. You've never tried that position before with other men. You believed that it was filthy and humiliating to get fucked from behind. And you were right, you felt like nothing but a piece of meat. But it also felt good.

"Hard enough, you little slut?" He whispered into your ear, the words sending chills down your spine. Who knew you would enjoy being called awful names?

"Yes! Fuck, yes!" You arched your back, the sound of the bedframe hitting the wall echoing in your room. Your poor neighbours. 

"Has anyone else fucked you like this before?" Eren fisted your hair, pulling your head back.

"N-no!" You cried out, feeling your thighs quiver. 

"Good." He let go of your hair, only to bring an arm around your neck, practically holding you in a headlock. "And no one's ever gonna fuck you like this, but me, yeah?"

"Y-you, only you!" 

"That's right." He let go of you, instead focusing his hands on your hips. "You're mine."

It was comforting to hear those words, because you knew that was how Eren expressed his feelings — violently. 

There was no romance with Eren, only chaos and violence, and you loved him just like that. 

Then you felt it — his frantic thrusts, the stuttering pace, his fingers almost ripping the skin off your hips — he was close, and so were you. 

"Eren! I'm gonna finish-"

"I know, love."

That was enough to send you over the edge, your walls tightening around his cock, and pleasure engulfing your entire body. Your limbs were numb by the time you reached your climax, and you were too tired to tell him not to finish inside of you. But Eren wasn't an idiot. Despite his violent urges, he didn't want to hurt you. Not emotionally, at least. He pulled out on time, you knew that when you felt something hot and thick on your lower back.

You could hear him walk out of the room and then back in, and in your daze, you tried to prop yourself on your elbows and look up.

"Don't move." Eren told you, and his voice had drastically changed — soft and soothing. "You don't want cum leaking on your bedsheets."

"Need to wash 'em anyway." You groaned, coming down from your high. 

"Tomorrow." He said, gently wiping your back with tissues. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." You nodded. "Still bored?" You teased him, but you knew things would go back to normal tomorrow. Eren would go back to Tinder and you would go back to your routine.

"A little." Eren shrugged, and although you should have expected this answer, it still shattered your heart into a million pieces. "You know what would help?"

"What?" 

"If you would let me take you out on a date."

You were confused, and understandably so.

"Me?"

"No, the Pope. Go on a nice little date in the Vatican. Yes, you." He chuckled at his own joke.

But you were still confused.

"I thought you didn't do dates." You watched him toss the tissues in the bin and sit back down on your bed.

"Well, it's time for a change." He didn't look at you, instead focusing on one dot on the wall.

"Okay, but why? I mean, why me?"

"Don't, Y/N. Don't make me say it." Eren hoped that if he still stared at that dot, you would leave him alone.

"You made me say a lot of shit tonight, Jaeger. Why me?" You could feel your cheeks heat up again with anger.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, you know why!" He crossed his arms like a child.

"No, I don't."

"Jesus, because I l-" Eren cleared his throat. "I luh-" he choked.

"Oh my God, just say it already!" 

"I love you, you crazy fucking bitch!" He threw his hands up in exasperation. "There, I said it, happy?"

You were stunned, absolutely dumbfounded. Love? Eren loved you? How? Since when? There were tons of questions you wanted to ask him, but not a single word came out of your mouth. 

The silence was deafening, and you could hear your heart beating in your eardrums. So instead of saying anything, you scooted closer to him, cupping his face and turning his face towards you. Finally, he looked into your eyes, and you beamed at him. There was so much warmth in your smile that it moved him, and for the first time in a very long time, Eren smiled, too.

He pulled you into a soft embrace, his arm around your shoulders, his chin resting on your head. 

"Can I sleep with you?" Eren asked.

"Didn't you already do that?" You mocked him with a grin on your lips.

"Alright, fuck you too, then.” He chuckled, planting a kiss on your forehead.

Perhaps you had been wrong all along. Perhaps all of Eren’s arrogance and chaos was just a mask, something to hide how he truly felt. You knew he would never show his vulnerable side, but the fact that tonight he at least tried to do that meant that he could change. And tonight, for the first time, Eren not only felt loved, but he felt the need to show love.

It would take time and patience, but he could change. For you.

[inexplicifics]

Milena/Lambert(/Aiden), cuddles after a bad day?

Lambert comes stomping up the stairs, glowering blackly at everyone he sees. Bad enough that one of his experiments failed so dramatically; worse that someone saw; worst of all that the people who saw were Ivar and Leocadie, the only fucking Witchers whose opinions on alchemy he actually fucking respects. The ones he wants to respect him. And he fucked up an experiment so easy a child could manage it.

(Somewhere in the back of his mind, he does know that the experiment he ruined was complex and risky enough that most master alchemists would be wary of it, but rationality is not going to win the battle against bitter humiliation any time soon.)

He slams the door to his rooms open and then stops dead as Milena startles, jerking hard enough that her needle misses the fabric in her lap and stabs her finger instead. The sudden smell of blood where there shouldn’t be any - blood and pain, Milena’s pain - is enough to make Lambert want to go fling himself off a godsdamned tower.

He’s just fucking up everything he touches today, isn’t he?

“Lambert,” Milena says, setting her sewing aside and rising hastily to her feet. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Lambert bites out, eyes fixed on the drop of crimson welling at the tip of her pale finger. “I’ll just - go -”

Milena huffs and crosses the room in a few quick strides, reaching out her uninjured hand to cup his cheek. “My love,” she says softly, “if it were nothing you would not look like a thundercloud. Are you hurt?”

“Nothing but my pride,” Lambert admits. “You’re hurt, though, dammit -”

“A pinprick only,” Milena says, and lifts her injured finger to her mouth, licking the blood away to show him that the tiny wound has healed itself already. Lambert bows his head and presses an apologetic kiss to her finger, and honey overwhelms the scent of blood.

“My love,” Milena murmurs, and her hand slides from his cheek to the back of his neck, drawing him down until she can press her lips to his. He could resist, of course - her grip isn’t hard, the pull not strong enough to move a child who didn’t care to - but he’s not going to refuse her without a damn good reason, and being in a complete snit isn’t reason enough.

“What happened?” Milena asks softly as their lips part.

“Fucked up an experiment,” Lambert admits grudgingly. “In front of Leocadie and fucking Ivar.”

“Oh no,” Milena says, wincing. “How immensely frustrating.” She kisses him again, then takes his hand and leads him over to the chairs beside the fire. “Tell me about it - or you may brood, or I will talk of other things, if those would help.”

She sits down, and Lambert glances at his own chair and then on impulse sinks instead to his knees next to her, distantly glad of the thick rug, and rests his head against her leg.

“Oh, my love,” Milena says, and then thank gods doesn’t ask any more questions, just strokes her fingers through his hair in a slow, steady rhythm that he can match his breathing to.

Lambert closes his eyes and concentrates on the smell of roses that always surrounds her, of warm bread with honey rising around them thick enough to taste. On the thick pile of the rug beneath his knees and the soft wool of her dress against his cheek, and the way her fingernails scratch gently against his scalp. On the steady beating of her heart and the easy rhythm of her breath and the soft crackling of the fire.

Slowly, his black mood drains away.

“Thanks,” he mumbles at last.

“You’re welcome, my love,” Milena murmurs.

Lambert knows he should get up, but he’s comfortable and she smells contented, so he stays where he is for just a little longer, basking in her touch and the roses and honey scent of her love.

(Or HERE on AO3!)

[holdmymetaphor]

okay heres some things about houses childhood i think about

theres clearly a few dynamics here

-he hates his father, resents the abuse, recognizes that bad things were done to him

-probably when he was very young, he didnt understand why bad things happened to him, was not intentionally A Bad Kid

-because he surmised his dad was not his dad at 12 i assume the abuse started from a young age.

-house mentions ice baths and sleeping outside, but he also mentions his father not speaking to him for months at a time, which is interesting to me. when house tries to qualify the severity of abuse to eve he says "not as bad as your [trauma] if how your acting about it shows how bad it is." which to me is pretty noncommittal. was he doing that bc he was still kind of lying, trying to get info out of her? if not, it seems like house is actually unsure of how to qualify his own abuse, which would lead me to believe it was largely emotional and verbal. although i suspect that his father did physically abuse him at times, to me this exchange implies that house thinks the ice baths and sleeping outside were the worse of it (interestingly both acting on his whole body and ability to regulate temperature)

-at some point he acts out intentionally, instead of unintentionally, bc his father is Wrong and shouldnt be abusing house in these ways(the fact that the thing he wanted to hear from his father was "you were right, you did the right thing" 😭😭)

-this leads to worse and more cruel punishments, which house both detests and wants to avoid repeating. furthering his resentment, but reinforcing his fathers authority

- despite his knowledge that his father is wrong, his dad claims to do these acts out of love, to teach dicipline, to toughen him up. (in this way his struggle with god is really an allegory of his father: is it better he hates me (i deserve pain) or loves me (i dont deserve pain) when he does awful things to me? or is it better for him to not exist at all (things just happen, there is no deserving)?

-in my perspective, especially as house got older, into his teens, he was actually probably really "well behaved" finally smart enough to fake social cues and swallow his pride so that his father wouldnt hit him or what have you (which is why he regresses to a child often as an adult, because he was not allowed those things)

its interesting to me, to see how all of houses character is shaped around the shadow of his father. the parts where he is similar: rigid, principled, yell-y, and where he is intentionally different: encourages independent thinking, respects challenges to his authority (only when he has authority lmao that all falls apart when people take his power(read:agency) away, his biggest trigger)

and none of this even gets into his mother, blythe (a word which means both happiness and bland disintrest) which is a whole nother can of worms. the fact that at the funeral she said that "the war was over" (which implied that no matter how much house actually listened to his father, there was still a part of him that couldnt help but to point out the logical issues, and therefore continued abuse)

lastlly, she had said that john loved him. which i think house believes to be true. especially when he tries to talk to his dead father in season 6, he says "i think i focus on the wrong things," implying that he did want to find some peace with that relationship, and that he wanted his fathers love, despite it being illogical, painful and confusing.

that he was willing to look past the abuse was shocking to me, because house is right his father shouldnt of abused him. but it was coming from a place of love, however ill concieved.

this is as close as we get to house praying to god. to admit that the suffering of life cannot be defied or denied, and grasp for the love nestled in between all the pain, however flawed, wrong, or illogical.

in a lot of ways, his story is so much about houses struggle with the body, its agency, its disability, its doom. he literally becomes a doctor to grasp with this ideologically (at times paradoxically) instead of physics because his question isnt really about existance in general

its about why he exists in the broken, painful way he does. and at the end of it, he sets down his need for an answer, righteousness, and admits that despite it all, his body cant help but love. and that love is the death of him. the end of his suffering.

[stargazer-luna]

The Problem of Susan

So, a lot of people get super up in arms about Lewis saying that Susan stopped believing in Narnia bc she liked boys and makeup, but that is not his point.

Susan was bitter. You would be, too, if you had grown up with respect as a queen and then got pulled back into a young teen's body without any of that respect. "Oh, she's just a child, what does she know?" and so-on and so forth. Then when she gets the chance to go back to the world that she knows, it's 1000 years in the future.

One thousand years. For context, that's like living in Greenland with Eric the Red, and then getting pulled into modern times.

Then, she was once again pulled back to her world and told that she would never be able to return to the place she loves so much.

So, she starts making herself believe that Narnia was all make-believe as a coping mechanism. She tried to grow up faster than she should've so that she could get that respect back that she had in Narnia.

Have you ever been hungry for something, but don't know what, so you nibble on various foods in the kitchen, never finding out what you were craving? That's what happens when you have a hole in your heart that needs to be filled by God - or in Susan's case, Aslan. She turned to the world, 'nibbling' on grown-up things and a grown-up way of life to fill the hole in her heart left by Narnia.

Fast forward, and she's in her early twenties. Her family probably tried to bring her to Christ, as they know that Aslan's name here is Jesus. But now they're dead, and she's alone.

(This next part is heavily based on a fic I read many years ago, so if the author sees this, I just want to say that it was an amazing read)

One day, she sees Lucy's Bible. She starts flipping through it because she remembers how at peace Lucy seemed while reading it, or maybe she swept it off the table in anger, wondering why a loving God would take her family like that.

Either way, it opens to a page with a drawing of a lampost in the margins. A verse is underlined: "Your word is a lamp unto my feet, a light unto my path."

Susan starts from the beginning of the Bible and turns the pages, pausing anytime she sees a drawing. Each one stirs her heart and mind, and her days in Narnia begin returning to her. Finally, she reaches the resurrection story. The drawing? The table split in two. Susan cries as she realizes what her siblings have been trying to tell her all these years, and she believes.

Years down the line, she passes away with a smile on her face as she is reunited with her family in Aslan's country and sees her King face-to-face once again...

[goodnightmemes]

INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE (1994) SENTENCE STARTERS

❛ So you want me to tell you the story of my life. ❜

❛ What were you going to do? Kill me, drink my blood? ❜

❛ I'm flesh and blood, but not human. I haven't been human for 200 years. ❜

❛ I couldn't bear the pain of their loss. I longed to be released from it. ❜

❛ You lack the courage of your convictions. Do it! ❜

❛ Don't be afraid. I'm going to give you the choice l never had. ❜

❛ Your body's dying. Pay no attention. It happens to us all. ❜

❛ No words can describe it. Might as well ask Heaven what it sees. No human can know. ❜

❛ You'll get used to killing. Just forget about that mortal coil. You'll become accustomed to it, all too quickly. ❜

❛ There's nothing in the world now that doesn't hold some...Fascination. ❜

❛ The dark gift is different for each of us. But one thing is true of everyone. We grow stronger as we go along. ❜

❛ That's more like it! Anger! Fury! ❜

❛ Remember: Life without me would be even more unbearable. ❜

❛ You must know something about the meaning of it all. ❜

❛ They know about us. They watch us dine on empty plates and drink from empty glasses. ❜

❛ Forgive me if I have a lingering respect for life. ❜

❛ Perfect! Just burn the place! Burn everything we own! Have us living in a field, like cattle! ❜

❛ What if there is no Hell? Or they don't want us there? Ever think of that? ❜

❛ You're in love with your mortal nature. You resist what can bring you peace. ❜

❛ We're predators, whose all-seeing eyes give them detachment! ❜

❛ It's your coffin, enjoy it. Most of us never get to know what it feels like. ❜

❛ Kill them swiftly if you will, but do it! For do not doubt you are a killer! ❜

❛ My philosopher. My martyr. "Never take a human life.” ❜

❛ Pain is terrible for you. You feel it like no other creature, because you're a vampire. ❜

❛ Evil is a point of view. God kills indiscriminately, and so shall we. ❜

❛ A little child, she was. But also a fierce killer, now capable of the ruthless pursuit of blood with all a child's demanding. ❜

❛ Remember, never in our home! ❜

❛ Time can pass quickly for mortals when they're happy. With us, it was the same. The years flew by like minutes. ❜

❛ More melancholy nonsense. You grow more like [name] daily! ❜

❛ Do you want me to be a doll forever? ❜

❛ Can't I change like everyone else? ❜

❛ Be glad I made you what you are. You'd be dead now if I hadn't. ❜

❛ You will never grow old. And you will never die. ❜

❛ I thought of all the things I'd done and couldn't undo. And I longed for one second's peace. ❜

❛ He will never let us go. ❜

❛ What is it now? You irritate me. Your very presence irritates me! ❜

❛ Is that supposed to frighten me? ❜

❛ I came to make peace with you. Even though you're the father of lies. I want things to be as they were. ❜

❛ Why do you say such things? ❜

❛ I promise I'll get rid of the bodies. ❜

❛ We forgive each other then? ❜

❛ Good night, sweet prince. May flights of devils wing you to your rest. ❜

❛ Should we burn him? Bury him? What would he have liked? ❜

❛ You've been a very, very naughty little girl. ❜

❛ We deserve your vengeance. ❜

❛ For what could the damned really have to say to the damned? ❜

❛ There are no vampires in Transylvania? No Count Dracula? ❜

❛ I've searched the world for an immortal and this is what I find! ❜

❛ No one will harm you. I won't allow it. ❜

❛ Vampires who pretend to be humans pretending to be vampires. How avant-garde. ❜

❛ Do you know what it means to be loved by Death? ❜

❛ You die when you kill. You feel you deserve to die and you stint on nothing. ❜

❛ But perhaps...this is the only real evil left. ❜

❛ I know nothing of God. Or the Devil. I have never seen a vision, nor learned a secret that would damn or save my soul. ❜

❛ You fear too much. So much you make me fear. ❜

❛ There is but one crime among us vampires here. It is the crime that means death to any vampire: To kill your own kind. ❜

❛ Danger holds you to me. ❜

❛ Love holds you to me. ❜

❛ You would leave me for [name] if he beckoned you. ❜

❛ Is that what I should do? Let you go? ❜

❛ If you want to save her, send her away! ❜

❛ The world changes. We do not. Therein lies the irony that finally kills us. ❜

❛ I need you to make contact with this age. ❜

❛ A vampire with a human soul. An immortal with a mortal's passion. ❜

❛ You are beautiful, my friend. [name] must have wept when he made you. ❜

❛ I knew him. Knew him well enough not to mourn his passing. ❜

❛ Your evil is that you cannot be evil! And I shall suffer for it no longer! ❜

❛ I haven't tears enough for what you've done to me! ❜

❛ Oh, God! I love you still! That's the torment of it! ❜

❛ Who'll care for me, my love, my dark angel, when you are gone? ❜

❛ Bear me no ill will, my love. We are now even. ❜

❛ What has died is the last breath in me that was human. ❜

❛ Your only company will be your screams. ❜

❛ Maybe it was to quench those tears forever that I took such revenge. ❜

❛ You can teach me this? To be without regret? ❜

❛ What if all I have is my suffering? My regret? ❜

❛ I know you regret nothing. You feel nothing. If that's all I have left to learn, I can do that on my own. ❜

❛ You've come home to me then? ❜

❛ I'm a spirit of preternatural flesh. Detached. Unchangeable. Empty. ❜

❛ That's it? No, it can't end like that. ❜

❛ What I wouldn't give to be like you, to have your power, to have seen the things you have seen. ❜

❛ You want a companion. You want a link to the outside world. That's me. Take me.❜

❛ Do you like this? Do you like being food for the immortals? Do you like dying? ❜

❛ I assume I need no introduction. ❜

❛ Still whining. Heard enough? I've had to listen to that for centuries. ❜