#yet another thing that rattles around in my brain cage

[ir-abelas-vhenan]

Cut content from Dragon Age: Trespasser

[amourane]

smitten

pairing: yoon jeonghan x fem!reader

genre: fluff

w/c: 0.7k

summary: jeonghan is completely smitten for you and he refuses to admit it.

warnings: noneee

a/n: aaa i hope you guys like this <3 i wasn't gonna post two fics in a row but i whipped this one up in about half an hour so i hope you guys enjoy it! not sure if i should make it a mini series, lmk!

Jeonghan found it hard to breathe with you around. He found it hard to focus, to concentrate. He had always been one to keep his cool, to stay calm and collected but ever since he met you all logical thinking had been thrown out of the window. He wasn’t a type of guy that would get nervous and he certainly wasn’t the type of guy that would get distracted. Jeonghan prided himself in being the stoic and very attractive star student at Seoul National University. 

So why did he find himself completely befuddled in front of you?

You who were so beautiful, so pretty, so gorgeous yet so annoying. He had never met another girl who would claw at his bones more than you. Your tinkling laugh and bright shiny eyes. It all made him go positively crazy and he couldn’t do anything to help that. You had this magnetic pull that would drag Jeonghan along despite his protests. 

His friends had all teased him for it. They had seen the way his cheeks would flush whenever you stared at him or the way he would look at you with the most lovesick eyes. Nevertheless, he continued to deny his affections. 

It didn’t matter anyway. You were too dense to notice how everyone seemed to snicker whenever you went up to Jeonghan or the way everyone would peer over their textbooks whenever you asked to partner up with the infamous student. You, who’s smile was so bright, failed to see how everyone could tell how smitten Yoon Jeonghan was for you even if he denied it. 

��Hannie!” Your voice echoed through the hallway and Jeonghan winced at the loud sound. His expression remained neutral as you came bounding up towards him with the most adorable grin on your face. “Guess who just got full marks on her test? Me!”

The test paper you shoved in his face made Jeonghan go cross eyes as he struggled to decipher your scrawled answers and the red pen the professor had marked with. The biggest thing that caught his eyes was the 100 in the top right hand corner. 

“That’s good Y/n.”

“Is that all you have to say?” You pouted as you removed the test paper from his face. “I worked so hard for that Hannie, I pulled all nighters and everything! I didn’t even ask you for any help, isn’t that impressive?”

“Yeah.” Jeonghan felt the cage of butterflies fly open in his stomach and he gulped. “That’s amazing Y/n but you really shouldn’t stay up revising, it actually decreases the chance of taking information in. You can enter sleep deprivation and it has a really high chance of simply going blank in exams and that’s not good at all you know.”

Your smile remained on your face as Jeonghan continued to rattle off the side effects of lack of sleep. You stepped closer towards him, only inches away. Jeonghan’s breath hitched as he stared at your pretty face. His eyes flickered to your lips and then your eyes. The eyes he could stare into forever and not get bored with. 

“Then you help me revise. I could use help from that brain of yours. I actually did go blank in my exam but it wasn’t because of sleep deprivation.”

Jeonghan knew better than to ask what but he couldn’t help the curiosity that was gnawing at his mind like a beast begging to be set free. He stared at you, your bright expression rendering him speechless as he tried to come up with words to say.

“What was it then?” He croaked out, voice trembling at the close proximity. “Why did you get distracted?”

You giggled leaning in closer so that your lips were brushing his ear. “You.”

Jeonghan froze, his whole body stood still like ice and you continued to giggle and he saw the way your smile seemed to grow bigger. His heart pounded in his chest as he watched you step back, the test paper still clutched in your hands. He felt his cheeks burst into flames as his jaw hung open in shock at your words. 

“See you later Hannie! I’ll pop over so we can exchange notes.” 

You waved him goodbye before skipping away as if you hadn’t just caused the poor guy to melt in his shoes. Jeonghan gripped his textbooks tightly and he tried to breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth. The beating of his heart could be heard in his ears and he tried desperately to calm himself down.

You were the only one capable of making Yoon Jeonghan grow completely flustered and he hated it.

[themareverine]

Until We Fall ▹masterlist | worst!Logan x mutant!fem!OC

summary: DP&W AU. It's been God knows how many years after Logan's death in North Dakota—and this wouldn't be much of a story without a shiny new villain with a hot new plan, or someone to save the world. Well, maybe two someones. Ok, you win, three. But first, you have track down that said someone—the Wolverine. And who better to do that than the girl who found him the first time? Logan/OC

a/n: *knocks on glass, looks confused* hi, anyone still here? If so, welcome in! here's my DP& W AU. i have no idea what I'm doing. this is a sequel that i'm writing kinda-sorta at the same time as my main series, Mare & the Wolverine, and yes, please know, this is kinda self-insert-y. let me live, will you? reposting from my old account, OC is a mutant.

series masterlist | nav | | next

It's Called an Intro, Motherf******

Hi, welcome to the fuc–I mean freak, show. Don't want to blow the whole damn budget on the first 2.5 seconds of page time, right? Critics, good God–they're the worst. One sentence in and they'll judge the whole effin' book, hook line and sinker without even getting to the plot. Frickin' internet has made everyonea literary genius. Not.

ANYWAY—you're probably wondering what the eff I'm doing in the middle of this shitshow, huh? A story that isn't mine, hell—a story that isn't even technically writtenyet. That's a Fox thing. Or an MCU thing. Or a….thing, I guess? Dunno, this habit of timelines and then redoing and undoing them like a nun unbuckling a priests robes in a spittin' hurry after church is getting old—nobody really knows what the heck is going on. But, that's showbiz, right?

Rabbit trail, sorry. Frickin' brain. Anyway, yes–here. Ahem.

Well, really, we've got ourselves a Code Redpool (see what I did there?) with this one—someone trying to take over the world, rattle some cages, all that jazz. And if you didn't already know, such sticky little cumsucking messes requires a little bit more than a mercenary with a mouth. We already know I can't—don't—save the world. Despite what the box office may lend. It's above my paygrade, my hero tier. This rated R mothereffer hasn't gotten there yet, not on his own. Maybe another million or fifty.

Could be different this go around, though. Who effin' knows. All I know is that to save a world, to make a story, you need a couple of things—a smashin' budget, a whole helluva lot of copyright law, and a hero. An "anchor being," because Marvel has to be frickin' special. Sometimes two when the situation is Redpool, like it is. Maybe three, because I'll be EFFED if I'm not part of this one. Earnin' my stripes, going all Tony the Tiger and shit. You know the drill.

To help me out, I need the big guy. Yeah. Not Jesus, though it could be argued He's a factor, here. Very non denominational, very off script, very demure. Think more…yellow. Feral, as it were. Canadian. Yeah, dumbass—we need the Wolverine. The guy with the forks, the mutton chops from the 70s that were definitely a…choice. Logan. Yeah, him. Mr. Feral Forest Weasel himself.

And we'll probably need someone who can help us get to Logan, since he wouldn't know me from fresh effin' ADAM. If you saw Logan, you'll understand. Though it didn't happen exactly that way, because this is an AU—that fanfiction shit, you know. Sigh. We need someone who's tamed the beast, has clawed under all that adamantium and seen the hero where a trainwreck of a multiple-movies-gone-bad guy has stood.

A girl, genius. We need a girl. And lucky for you, delightful little fourth-wallians, I've got just the one.

Buckle up, mothereffer's—shit's about to get Wolverine-d.

Contents ➳❥ somewhere in the past, north dakota (in other words, the prologue) ➳❥ always sinners, rarely saints

[jamneuromain]

Wishful Thinking Chpt. 8

Andy Barber x You (Reader), no use of Y/N

Alternate Universe - College AU

Summary: A new semester. A new task. A new boyfriend, your previous professor, Andy Barber. Everything seems to be going on the right track. So why didn't it?

Warning: Angst, possessive behavior, inappropriate teacher-student relationship, power imbalance, age difference, cheating, explicit language, TW: mention of assault and violence

A/N: This fic has some disturbing themes, and discusses potentially upsetting topics. Please read through the warning before engaging with the fic. As I have said, the fic has mentioned a number of (potentially) triggering and heavy topics, you don't have to engage further if you feel uncomfortable about one or more topics.

Wishful Thinking M. List Dancing in the Daydream M. List

Someone calls your name when you are gazing into your coffee.

“Oh hey, Marta, didn’t see you there.” You nod to Marta, noticing her presence before replying.

Marta looks a bit hesitant, “There’s an ‘Andy’ at the door, that says he’s your boyfriend and wants to talk.”

The image of Andy apologizing last time flashes into your memory briefly. You try your best to bury them back in your brain, forcing a smile, “Did you tell him that you’d come and get me?”

“No, silly.” Marta heads over to the fridge and closes the fridge door with a can of cherry soda in her hand, talking as if she’s proud of herself, “I said I just moved in and I don’t know my roommates yet. Said I’ll go check whether the person he’s talking about lives here. If you want him gone, I can tell him you moved out.” She adds very quickly, “Or call the cops.”

Her suggestion brings a smile to your lips.

As ridiculous as the suggestion sounds, you are grateful that Marta didn’t let slip that she knows who you are and where you are.

You leave your coffee mug on the kitchen table, “I’ll just … talk to him. Thank you, Marta.”

Marta slurps her soda, coughing when she has too big a gulp, “no-no problem!”

Every step you take, feels heavy on your heart.

You don’t want to talk to Andy. You want to stay in a confined dark little corner and cry your eyes out.

Yet you have no tears. And you have to be a grown-up and tell him, that you decide to break up with him.

End things. Once and for all.

See, although you like happy endings for stories, whether the ones you read or the ones you write, but you also know that fairytales don’t happen in real life, and there is no magic, nor some Gaston to miraculously help you solve whatever misunderstanding that lies between the two of you, and leading to a happily-ever-after end.

Not to mention, it’s not a misunderstanding.

Andy cheated.

He cheated on you when having a wife. Or another girlfriend. Or whatever Laurie Fucking Barber is.

Even if Laurie is lying about it, for your own safety, you wouldn’t want to be around Andy Barber, in case Laurie jumps out of nowhere and slaps you in the face again.

It is a reasonable decision.

The right decision.

But does your heart want it that way?

No.

Your heart drains every ounce of your strength, telling you to hold on to him, after such a terrible mess. Your heart rattles the cage you’ve custom made for it. Making loud noises, tearing you apart.

Your heart tells you what it wants. What you truly want.

You want him.

Which adds to the sadness and pity you feel about yourself.

A man that lied to you, hurt you, and refused to share with you about himself. So many red flags almost scream “RUN” and you successfully ignored all of them.

Love makes you blind. Love makes you foolish.

So you are going to stop loving him.

As hard as it sounds, you are certain time will take care of it.

It’s raining a little outside. Andy came to your door with his suit jacket damp and hair ruffled. He pants, but nothing can subdue the burning down his lungs for running from the parking spot to your place.

A thin line of smiling raise on the corner of his lips, before seeing you. Before actually looking at you. Before taking in your expressionless face and every sign of your body language that says “you are tired”.

And he certainly did not expect the first sentence that you say is a line for break-up.

“We’re done, Andy.”

Maybe he expected it a little, when he pictures Laurie hitting you. Leaving you scared on the floor. Maybe Laurie hit you so hard that you fall to the ground. Maybe you are devastated. Maybe you cried.

Now that seeing you without tears. Without sobbing and sniffing. A dark voice in his head tells him that you want him for the sex, not for the trouble.

Deep down, he knows any reasonable person in your position would be asking for a break-up. However, the demonic voice nags him into doubting. Into suspecting that you are not feeling a thing.

He’s a horrible person. Andy suddenly realizes when the dark thoughts creep inside his head. And he’s hoping you would be as horrible as he is so that he wouldn’t feel half the guilt he has right now for not telling you about Laurie.

He could do nothing than utter a few words. Words, pale and weak. The words almost every cheated man would come home and tell his wife, “Let me explain…”

“There’s nothing to explain about.” You shake your head.

Is that disappointment? Or just boredom? Andy isn’t sure.

A chilling spark runs up his spine. He has to do something. This, Andy is sure. He knows he either do something right now, or he could lose you forever.

“I’m divorcing her. It started six months ago.” It was five but who cares at this point, “She’s been holding a grudge. It was before we met and knew each other, I swear.”

Forget the “not speak ill of your ex” rule. Andy could speak a lot of ill about Laurie. Only that he did not choose to. For one, he didn’t want you to think he’s the type who will criticize his past partner. For another, he is ashamed to admit Laurie. Laurie, as his wife, cheated. Resulting in a huge dent in his self-esteem. He was afraid you would think there’s something wrong with him. That caused Laurie to flee.

He wouldn’t want that.

You’ve heard of husbands starting to date other women before the divorce got finalized. It wasn’t against the law. Nor was it morally incorrect. You didn’t think the same would happen to you. Simple as that.

“You could’ve…” Emphasizing on “could”. “Could’ve told me. Could’ve shared. Hinted, even. About …this. About Laurie.” You whisper in a small voice. Your eyes avoiding his determined gaze. Your gut tells you he’s lying, again. Or your paranoia. You can’t distinguish one from another these days.

“Please. I’m sorry. I fucked up. I know I did. Please-”

Don’t leave him.

“I’m sorry, Andy.”

You are not some puppy who will run back to its master on first call. This isn’t who you are. You expect a relationship, a functional one.

Whatever this is, it isn’t functional.

“We’ve been dating for two, three months now,” you state the obvious, “You know everything about me. About what I eat, what I don’t. You know I prefer drinks more than water. You know I’m deciding about whether to look for a job or continue my studies. You even know the scar on my arm was because of an accident.”

“I-” Andy looks as if he is about to interrupt.

“And I know nothing about you.” Which was fine, at the start. You thought you could ease into things. Get him to open up, little by little. You don’t mind sharing about yourself. You have some issues, of course, that you would rather keep to yourself and work them out. The real problem is, Andy never shares anything. “You seem to go to the gym a lot. You like scheduling. You like having order and control.”

“That’s something about me.” Andy wants to explain.

“Really?” You toss the question back to him, “I don’t know your favorite exercise. Do you swim because there’s an aquatics center within walking distance? Or you like swimming? Or you swim just to keep fit?”

His words grow weaker by the second.

“Why you like having order?” You bring up another question, “I’ve told you before that I like my care-free lifestyle and procrastination because of my inability to make decisions. I’ve told you about my writing. And when I asked you about your writing when you were a teen, what did you say?”

His memory clicks, retracing a dinner date from a month ago.

“I said-” Andy closes his eyes for a brief second, almost painfully, repeating his words, “I wrote some.”

“Some.” You recite, “and then you asked me about something else.”

“I’m sorry. I understand you’re upset.” Those words fly out of his mouth. His apologies are bland. Robotic. He couldn’t find better words. He didn’t know where to start.

Almost everytime, every date. She would try to get to know him more, and only resulted in him knowing her more. As if putting out a question, to him, is similar to a shield, blocking him from her interest.

Your nails dig into the palm of your hands. You are way more than upset. Crossing your arm, you remain stoic, “This isn’t working. You and me. Just leave, Andy. It’s over.”

“You’re mine-” He sounds fragile, hurting, on the verge of shattering, “you promised. You said that. You promised.”

“I promised you nothing.”

You promised him everything. You promised him… you. You entrusted your heart and your soul with him and now this?

“It’s over. We are over, Andy.”

“No.”

For a moment, your brain isn’t able to process that Andy, the kind, gentle, sweet Andy, actually said “no” to your breakup.

“Excuse me?” You narrow your eyes, looking at the man whose head is hanging. An invisible dark mist pulls into a swirl behind his back, almost as if some ridiculous comic book.

Andy raises his head and repeats, “No.”

He’s not going to let you ruin the possibility of “you”. He’s not going to let you get away too.

“I said no.” He has one hand on the door frame. Knuckles white. Clutching the wooden piece. His tone has never been firmer than he is now, “I’m not allowing it. I’m not letting you choose the ‘easy’ choice just because it’s the way you deem appropriate. Because you chickened out.”

“Ex-fucking-cuse me??”

Oh. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that last one. But pure blinding rage covers his mind and his body. As soon as his lips part, some more escape his mouth with ease, “You're just like everyone else who walked away from me when things got tough. I guess you're no different, scaredy cat."

“Andrew Barber!” You shriek, “I’m not the one withholding a damn WIFE! And I’m fucking breaking up with you! You prick!”

He couldn’t stop himself, “Sure. Because you’re perfectly capable of making decisions on your own.”

Words turn into sharp knives. It hurts to be mean. Though he feels like a big boulder getting off his chest when he watches tears gathering in your eyes. Sad tears? Angry tears? Doesn’t really matter.

“The hell do you mean?”

He shrugs, “Like I'm not the one who recommended you to apply for internship. Like I’m not the one who pulls the strings to make sure you get in. Like I'm not the one who helps arrange your life into shape. Like you don't need anyone to help you - you fake it, sweetheart, you pretend you're strong but you're not. You need – I know what you need. You need control, you need someone else to have control over you so you can hide behind a rock and be worry-free about not needing to take responsibility for your life. Wakey wakey, sunshine,” his tone turns mocking, “You are a grown-ass woman and you are afraid to act like one. Good luck at finding someone who’s willing to put your life into one-piece.”

This was how it was supposed to go.

Him breaking your heart. Stomping on it. You cry and leave.

A giant hole ripped open in the middle of his heart. Crawling with ice. He instantly feels good about making you cry. He is sorry about being mean. However, if this could hurt you, he would say it again. To make you feel something. Feel his wrath and his frustration.

But leaving. That’s what you all do. He only helps speed up the process.

He’s all alone again. He soon will be.

“Go to Hell, Barber.” With a final word, you slam the door in his face.

“Yeah well, you’ll beat me to it!” He yells back.

That’s what he deserves. Andy agrees in silence, looking at the concrete ground.

And now he’s alone again.

Taglist: @geminiflanagansblog@wintasssoldier@sapphire-rogers@nouk1998@sarahdonald87

[dragon-tummy]

Uh. I'm back from yet another short hiatus that I can't seem to get out of a loop for.

I promise that I'm still thinking about my comfort noms DAILY but have had no energy to create much on my own.

So... Have some rambles for my favorite little zest fest. Aether.

These are written as I've taken my night medication and eaten an edible. If it sounds incomprehensible, blame the feral part of my brain that wanted my favorite little man.

Leaning into the "beast not from our world" sort of ideas, I think shapeshifting with obvious signs of irregularities would be neat. Lets say that you're just a regular Vision holder wandering through Mondstadt, and on your way to the city, you note that a Hilichurl camp has been destroyed.

You lock eyes with something that's DEFINITELY not human in how it's stance is, feet angled like in a digitigrade fashion and eyes glowing under the dark. It's easy to recognize that this is the beloved honorary knight you've heard of and seen pictures for, but the pictures aren't matching up correctly.

Next thing you know, Aether is vaulting over the wooden walls and slithering out of sight with little more than a trail of glittering stars and flecks of gilded scales.

When you see Aether again, outside of combat, he appears normal. It's hard to avoid his glances when you give him a drawn out stare, recalling the weird encounter you both had.

RATTLING THE BARS OF MY CAGE. I NEED DRAGON TAUR AETHER PLEASEEEE MY DEMONS. MY DEMONS NEED HIM.

I like the thought of a second mouth on character designs that absolutely fucks up the anatomy to a concerning degree, and I feel like Aether would have a draconic form with a large mouth along the chest area of his animalistic half. Temporary storage for dangerous situations, and whoever is caught in his claws gets to enjoy pretty galaxy decorated flesh before they're dropped off in a safe place.

Because of a Rimworld binge I had recently, I wanna say his way of snagging people is similar to how a Devourer snatches pawns. It's quick and out of nowhere, leaving no time to react. Unlike it, Aether is gonna bolt the minute he's got the focus of his attention safely tucked away behind sharp teeth.

Before I end the rambles off, I'm gonna list more miscellaneous things that pop up in my head.

Saliva has an oil slick sort of color when exposed to the open air, making it glittery and rainbow-y under direct light.

Once again, tummy with flecks of light like a nightlight.

Claws on the dragon taur form are built for handling items and climbing, making it easy for him to skitter around like a newt or other small lizard would.

He has these echo-y calls and warbles he makes, like wind chimes that fade out after some time. It's a habit for most members of his travelling party to fall asleep to the sounds while camping out in a place like Sumeru, tucked in the branches of large trees.

Looking over at Scara. Looking over at Aether. Two insane looking monsters created by the hands of someone, be it an Archon or an unknown being of the stars.

I'm going insane. I need to write more stuff for those two because I have so many scenes and ideas that I wanna project onto them. GRGRHHH GNAWING ON THEM CHEWING ON THEM VIOLENTLY

[sci-fiolence]

CW: Starvation, force feeding, lady whumper, slightly animalistic whumpee, it as a pronoun, institutionalized slavery

First time posting! Please let me know if I missed a tag or warning. This is my first time writing a nameless MC, so let me know how it goes over, hope you enjoy!

@kim-poce (You mentioned a while ago that people could tag you in things, hopefully this guy isn't too animal-like for you)

Edit: so, uh, I only posted the first 600 words or so the first time aroud. Its 2k now. Riperoni.

Something crouched in the shadows next to the dumpster, presing itself against the rotten metal, eyes darting from point to point. It trembled slightly in the cold, the soiled rags clinging to its body doing nothing to protect against the night air. Another dumpster sat in the dingy yellow glow of a streetlamp across the road. The thing's stomach growled.

It pushed off the dumpster, tentatively taking a few steps forward, head cocked into the wind as it moved. Caution gave way to desperation before it made it to the sidewalk. The thing burst into a lolloping run, gaze fixed on the dumpster ahead. It only saw the oncoming lights an instant before it heard the squealing screech, both a half a second before a great force slammed into its shoulder, sending the world into black.

…..

It next noticed antiseptic stinging it's nose. It frowned, bordering on a snarl. Harsh light burned its eyes, and the grating hum of flourescent lights worked its way into its brain. Its body ached, claws of pain wrapped around its shoulder and down through its ribs. It shifted, letting out a soft whine as the injuries shifted too.

A door closed somewhere nearby. It gasped and shifted back, measuring its breathing to approximate sleep and straining its ears. Several seconds passed before it heard the footsteps, light and quick and squeaking against the tile. The thing bled all the tension from its limbs, sinking down against the hard ground, breathing evenly. The footsteps stopped nearby, and it had just enough time to hope there was another one in the next stall over before a rattling cage door put an end to it.

It didn't know how deeply it had been sleeping, if the rattling alone would have been enough to wake it up or if it needed to wait until it was touched. Waking right up and jumping to it's knees all ready to please would be the "correct" thing to do.

The footsteps entered the cage and took three steps towards him before stopping and kneeling.

"Hey there, sweetheart," she cooed. It tensed despite itself, at once knowing the jig was up and yet unable to open its eyes to face the sweet lie dripping from the human's enemy. She tried a couple more times, rubbing its arm to wake it up. Eventually she let out a sigh and unzipped a bag.

A burst of pain lit up its calf. The thing yelped and curled further into itself. The pain wasn't all that bad, an uncomfortable vibration turned just this side of too much. The memories it brought of the blue buzzing pressed to the soft flesh of its belly or cheek were much worse.

The human was cooing at it again, the tone washing over it more than the words. Soft hands held its arm and hip. It flinched away, muscles beginning to tremble. It's lip wobbled, its nose prickled, a tear threatened to fall -

At once, it took control of its mind like one would throw down a sheep for shearing. It grit its teeth and let out a deep growl as it opened its eyes and lunged upwards to a crouch.

The human scrambled several steps backwards, hand raised. It eyed her over its knees, huffing deep breaths against the screaming pain of it's injuries. She moved slowly, eyes darting away just long enough to take the handles of her doctor's bag. It shifted as she took a tentative step towards the cage door, the two circling each other with locked eyes until their positions reversed. Her movements were slow until the door unlatched, at once rushing through the doorway and slamming it behind her. The thing only thought to make a break for it when the opening was nearly closed, only succeeding in slamming into the chain link door with a loud rattle and sending the human running down the hallway.

...

"You're recommending him for euthanasia?" The shelter foreman tossed the nurse's report down on his desk. It was short, most of the text covered by a photo of the pet. It was crouched in its cage, scowling at the camera. The position was similar to many of the pets that came through the council shelter, but something about it was different. Ready to strike rather than curled in fear. He'd spent the last several days curled against the back wall of the cage, eyeing and growling at anyone who came close.

The foreman scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. The no-kill shelter was a cornerstone of the mayor's last election campaign. Constituents couldn't stand the thought of sweet little pets being put down before they could find good homes, nevermind the fact that most pets that ended up without owners were faulty. Best case scenario, the one person in town with the resources to provide for one specific pet happens to wander into the shelter at the right time. Worst case scenario was sitting in Kennel 12.

The shelter had managed to orchestrate events so that no pet was put down while under their care. It was unlikely that they could even get Kennel 12 into the van, much less convince the next jurisdiction over to take him.

The nurse waited on the other side of the desk, knowing what the eventual response would be but letting the foreman come to the conclusion himself. After a moment, the man sighed. "Do whatever you need to, get him to cooperate."

...

The thing curled up against the back wall of its cage. The corner would be more comfortable, but Pets were in the cages on either side and it couldn't bring itself to curl up that close to them. They whispered to each other, silvery rasps that filled the air as soon as the lights went out. It didn't try to understand them; none of them were addressed its way, and the sound itself was beginning to drive it crazy. Sometimes the whispering would get too loud, fill its brain and bounce around its mind in endless overlapping echoes, and it would let out a desperate sound loud enough to drown out the noise. The whispering would quiet, and the thing could fall back into a fitfull sleep.

Mornings came with thin sunlight filtering through the high narrow windows near the ceiling, beams slanting down to the caged below. The filthy thing huddled away from the beams, curled in the shadows as they surrendered to the light, its brain filled with danger danger danger. When the light finally snuffed out the darkness, the thing buried its face in its knees and wished so much to be invisible that it might one day come true.

Meals were difficult. Twice a day, someone came down the hallway with a cart and slid the trays of food under the cage doors. The Pets around him came eagerly for it, some greeting the person and others waiting for them to leave before diving headfirst into their tray. Some ate it directly off the ground, some used their hands. The thing in the shadows didn't know what it would do; it just wanted to eat. The cart came too late and too early, the metal tray shining in the slanted beam of the sunlight. The hidden thing tried to force itself to move, to convince the wild part of its mind that the others were behind bars where they couldn't attack it for taking a meal. That it was already caught and the shadows were useless now.

That part of itself refused to be swayed.

...

The thing's body was trembling. It never stopped. The guard dogs standing over it would have been enough to send a tremor through its body to begin with, but add on the hunger and the thing's teeth were all but knocking together. It was so weak. It doubted it could run fast enough to escape the dogs, much less fight them off. The human stepped in front of them, showing her teeth. She knelt and slid a tub of grey mush across the ground. The thing flinched, pressing impossibly further against the wall.

"It's okay, its food," she cooed. It tore its eyes away from the guards long enough to glance down at the tub. It seemed food-like enough. It was so hungry that anything that might fill its belly would be sufficient. It uncurled a hand and reached towards-

NO!

The thing let out a whimper and snatched its hand back against its chest. Danger danger danger. It squeezed its eyes shut, tears leaking out the corners. No, no no no. The human sighed. A second passed before rough hands tore it out of its protective ball, away from the safety of wall. It screamed, in fear and in pain. It kicked and clawed weakly at the iron grips of the guard dogs as they threw it to the floor and pinned it there. They each had a hand on its shoulder and a hand on it's wrists, rendering its arms useless. Grunts and whimpers fell from its lips as it struggled, barely moving an inch.

The thing froze as the nurse came into view. She knelt down at its side and took the lid off the tub. She pulled out a funnel, and the animal started to scream through clenched teeth. She reached towards its face slowly, almost in slow motion. It turned its face away, away, into the floor into the arms of the guards anywhere, anywhere to escape. Her fingers curled around its jaw and forced it's mouth to open, the scream briefly ringing in the air before the funnel muffled it once more. A ridge clicked behind its teeth and wouldn't budge no matter how hard it pushed against it with its tongue. A limp tube slid down into its throat. It choked and wrenched its head this way and that to dislodge the intrusion. The nurse held the wide end and began to pour.

It inhaled once and felt the mush enter its lungs. It writhed on the ground, coughing and hacking to expell it. The nurse paused her pouring until it managed to take in a deep shuttering breath. When the mush hit the back of its throat again, the thing was careful to swallow. It slowly stopped its fighting and settled for weak crying, tears cutting lines down the sides of its head, some small part of it so, so grateful for the meal.

[rynrambles]

UH I don’t usually like to talk about my personal life because I desire to be an enigma, like the contents of a Costco hot dog. But at the same time, I felt like I just wanted to scrape all this out of my head and put it somewhere else. It’s a long read, and I don’t expect anyone to trudge through it, but at least these things aren’t stuck in my brainspace, rattling their cages anymore. 

--

To preface, I’m equal parts torn between “Bro, you’re overthinking this, no one cares”, “everyone cares a LOT, and you’re potentially opening a big can of worms here,” and “are you truly explaining yourself, or just making excuses for yourself?” (The answer being: I honestly don’t know.)

The thoughts are so disjointed, all vying for my attention with the same urgency and insistence. I desperately want to put them in order, line them up neatly, clearly, concisely, but it ends up being a very “herding cats” sort of endeavor; As soon as I turn my attention to one thought, the other 27 have disappeared, gotten into something they shouldn’t have, or barfed on the carpet.

At the core of it all, I want to say that I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I’ve not been particularly reliable in recent years. Obviously, I do not enjoy disappointing people; I don’t like failing to meet expectations, making promises that go unkept, disappearing for months on end, etc. I cannot stress how inadequate and ashamed I feel because of it. Yet the scrambled eggs I call my brain fights me tooth and nail every time I try to do anything about it. 

I know this is the most autistic thing imaginable, but please allow me to compartmentalize and elaborate on some thoughts that have been tumbling around in my head.

The Mental Health thing:

I’m trying to get better about working with my bipolar2. I can prolong my manic phases in a way that allows me to get more work done for a longer period of time, and I can cushion the blow of depressive phases. But I still feel the push and pull of these cycles. 

The downswings are the primary reason why I simply disappear at times, and it feels like a herculean effort to claw my way out of the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad pit of despair and 14 hour depression naps.

But then the upswings have me chasing novelty: prioritizing ephemeral, unimportant things over projects that I really need to get done. There is no negotiating with the ADHD brain to work on a task. Guilt, bargaining, bribery, blackmail, reason, logic, it’s all thoroughly ineffective. I might as well be trying to move mountains. I'm getting better at structuring things in a way where I'm able to do "fun, exciting, new projects," while also doing my gotdamned job, but it's still something I'm working on.

The Physical Health thing:

I once told one of my closest friends that I felt she and I, with all our similarities in mind and body, were cut from the same cloth. She replied “yeah, but it’s cheesecloth,” and I’ve laughed about it every day since. 

She’s chronically ill, much more so than I, but there’s a sort of… guilt-laced comfort in knowing that we’re not alone, that someone does understand to a similar depth and degree. 

But it’s still bullshit, yaknow? I’m tired of migraines that render me temporarily blind multiple times a week, I’m tired of the disruptive visual disturbances and hand tremors making it difficult to draw. I’m tired of tachycardia, palpitations, breathlessness, fatigue, nausea. And I’m tired of being shuffled between cardiologists, endocrinologists, pulmonologists, ophthalmologists, one specialist after another. Endless referrals. Numerous tests. Give us your blood, pee in this cup, try this diet, take these medicines. And the final verdict is always “hmm, we’re not sure what’s wrong.”

I don’t understand why my own body insists on fighting me at every turn. I give you water and walkies and sunlight every day, you ungrateful lump of flesh.

The art & friends thing:

I think enough people are aware that I had a huge falling out with my friend group some years back. There were rumors and accusations I wanted to address, but I was always worried things would blow up all over again. One can’t simply put out a statement and expect the involved individuals will have nothing to say in turn. And that’s only fair, right? The mere act of “defending” myself calls their integrity into question, so shouldn’t they be around to offer the counterbalance of their personal experiences and reasoning?

But ultimately, neither party wants to dredge up and rehash the same shit all over again. It’s exhausting. It’s emotionally taxing. And in the end it all boils down to he-said she-said anyway. 

So I’ve done my best to just be okay with it. Like, I did cause a lot of problems anyway, so maybe it’s penance for my wrongdoings. I don’t know. 

Moral deliberations aside, I found myself abruptly without friends. Emotionally devastating to be sure, but it also had an additional aftereffect of leaving me without artistic colleagues who could encourage creativity, offer input and opinions, redline my work, etc. And because artists cannot grow in a vacuum, I began to stagnate. 

To say nothing of the perpetual rumination whenever I would sit down to draw. It was the same unpleasant thoughts, over and over again on repeat. Day in and day out. 

So I stopped drawing.

Onwards:

Since then, I’ve slowly healed. I reconnected with my childhood friends and I cannot possibly express the amount of love and joy they’ve brought to my life. Likewise, my beloved husband has been nothing but supportive and encouraging, despite the literal years of me sort of moping around, aimless and without purpose. I look back at how I’ve spent the past half decade and I hate this languishing creature that has worn my face but contributed nothing of value to my life. 

I want to be me again, and I want to be productive and creative, not because of (mandatory) hustle culture, but because it genuinely makes me happy. Like, not to be a goober but isn’t it kinda magical to be able to see something in your head or have a vague idea and then conjure it into existence through art/writing/music?  That shit is cool as hell. I wanna do magic. And I want to feel proud of myself for accomplishing something. Maybe it’s capitalist brainwashing but productivity scratches the constant itching in my brain.

Ultimately:

So, that’s where I sit now, getting back on the horse for the umpteenth time and hoping I can do a little better than before. Perhaps, with the knowledge of what has and hasn’t worked in the past, I can hold on longer, recover faster. 

I want to thank everyone who has continued to cheer me on through it all. There are some names I’ve seen pop up again and again over the years, offering me kindness and patience well beyond what I deserve. You’ve always made me feel like it was worth it to dust myself off and try again, encouraging me ever onward. Even though you owe me nothing. Even though it can be difficult to gather that energy, and harder still to turn those thoughts into words. 

So from the bottom of my heart, thank you.

[turnpage]

send me a ✐ for a random sentence starter from my muse (1-1500) — tw: profanity, mild nsfw, long list

generator here quotes compiled from here inspired by

feel free to change to fit your preferences as need.

❨1❩ ❛ They are dreams, but I’m too out of control, I lose myself in them, and I’ve already lost too much to let them take over. ❜
 ❨2❩ ❛ Sometimes human places create inhuman monsters. ❜ ❨3❩ ❛ I'm not gonna hurt ya. I'm just going to bash your brains in. ❜ ❨4❩ ❛ Monsters are real. Ghosts are too. They live inside of us, and sometimes, they win. ❜ ❨5❩ ❛ The world's a hard place. It doesn't care. It doesn't hate you and me, but it doesn't love us, either. ❜ ❨6❩ ❛ The tears that heal are also the tears that scald and scourge. ❜ ❨7❩ ❛ Pull your act together and just go on. ❜ ❨8❩ ❛ I had never dreamed there could be so much pain in a life when there is nothing physically wrong. I hurt all the time. ❜ ❨9❩ ❛ Tough old world, baby. If you're not bolted together tightly, you're gonna shake, rattle, and roll before you turn thirty. ❜ ❨10❩ ❛ Are you sure self-pity is a luxury you can afford? ❜ ❨11❩ ❛ Truth comes out. In the end it always comes out. ❜ ❨12❩ ❛ Living by your wits is always knowing where the wasps are. ❜ ❨13❩ ❛ No matter where you go, the same asshole gets off the plane. ❜ ❨14❩ ❛ We sometimes need to create unreal monsters and bogies to stand in for all the things we fear in our real lives. ❜ ❨15❩ ❛ That’s your job in this hard world, to keep your love alive and see that you get on, no matter what. ❜ ❨16❩ ❛ Human nature, baby. Grab it and growl. ❜ ❨17❩ ❛ God wiped snot out of his nose and that was you. ❜ ❨18❩ ❛ Run away. Quick. And remember how much I love you. ❜ ❨19❩ ❛ How many times, over how many years, have I—a grown adult—asked for the mercy of another chance? ❜ ❨20❩ ❛ I was suddenly so sick of myself, so revolted. ❜ ❨21❩ ❛ You listen to me. I’m going to talk to you about it this once and never again this same way. ❜ ❨22❩ ❛ But those pieces, they’ll never fit just the same way again. Never in this world. ❜ ❨23❩ ❛ Dying is a part of living. You have to keep tuning in to that if you expect to be a whole person. ❜ ❨24❩ ❛ Officious little prick. ❜ ❨25❩ ❛ I’ve been sleepwalking again, my dear. — The plants are moving under the rug. ❜ ❨26❩ ❛ How I wish you were fear. ❜ ❨27❩ ❛ But it was a dreadful kind of curiosity, the kind that makes you peek through your fingers during the scariest parts of a scary movie. ❜ ❨28❩ ❛ All we have is time, you know. An eternity of time. Or shall we end it? Might as well. After all, we're missing the party. ❜ ❨29❩ ❛ We all remember our pleasant dreams more clearly than the scary ones. ❜ ❨30❩ ❛ The way things should be and the way things are hardly ever get together. ❜ ❨31❩ ❛ Got to be regular if you want to be happy. ❜ ❨32❩ ❛ But in a solitary life, there are rare moments when another soul dips near yours, as stars once a year brush the earth. ❜ ❨33❩ ❛ He showed me his scars, and in return he let me pretend that I had none. ❜ ❨34❩ ❛ Humbling women seems to me a chief pastime of poets. As if there can be no story unless we crawl and weep. ❜ ❨35❩ ❛ It is a common saying that women are delicate creatures, flowers, eggs, anything that may be crushed in a moment's carelessness.  ❜ ❨36❩ ❛ If I had ever believed it, I no longer do. ❜ ❨37❩ ❛ I thought once that gods are the opposite of death, but I see now they are more dead than anything, for they are unchanging, and can hold nothing in their hands. ❜ ❨38❩ ❛ I cannot bear this world a moment longer. ❜ ❨39❩ ❛ I have a better idea. I will do as I please. ❜ ❨40❩ ❛ All my life has been murk and depths, but I am not a part of that dark water. I am a creature within it. ❜ ❨41❩ ❛ You cannot know how frightened gods are of pain. There is nothing more foreign to them, and so nothing they ache more deeply to see. ❜ ❨42❩ ❛ When we are young, we think ourselves the first to have each feeling in the world. ❜ ❨43❩ ❛ When I was born, the word for what I was did not exist. ❜ ❨44❩ ❛ But perhaps no parent can truly see their child. When we look we see only the mirror of our own faults. ❜ ❨45❩ ❛ I will not be like a bird bred in a cage, too dull to fly even when the door stands open. ❜ ❨46❩ ❛ This is what it means to swim in the tide, to walk the earth and feel it touch your feet. This is what it means to be alive. ❜ ❨47❩ ❛ You threw me to the crows, but it turns out I prefer them to you. ❜ ❨48❩ ❛ Yet because I knew nothing, nothing was beneath me. ❜ ❨49❩ ❛ If now I am wise, it is only because I have been fool enough for a hundred lifetimes. ❜ ❨50❩ ❛ You can teach a viper to eat from your hands, but you cannot take away how much it likes to bite. ❜ ❨51❩ ❛ Give me the blade. Some things are worth spilling blood for. ❜ ❨52❩ ❛ I have been old and stern for so long, carved with regrets and years like a monolith. But that is only a shape I’ve been poured into. I do not have to keep it. ❜ ❨53❩ ❛ I wake sometimes in the dark terrified by my life's precariousness, its thready breath. ❜ ❨54❩ ❛ Understanding the world is a matter of keeping very still and showing no emotions, leaving room for others to reveal themselves. ❜ ❨55❩ ❛ Beneath the smooth, familiar face of things is another that waits to tear the world in two. ❜ ❨56❩ ❛ The truth is, men make terrible pigs. ❜ ❨57❩ ❛ My father has never been able to imagine the world without himself in it. ❜ ❨58❩ ❛ This is the grief that makes our kind choose to be stones and trees rather than flesh. ❜ ❨59❩ ❛ Witches are not so delicate. ❜ ❨60❩ ❛ Those who fight against prophecy only draw it more tightly around their throats. ❜ ❨61❩ ❛ I learned that I could bend the world to my will, as a bow is bent for an arrow. I would have done that toil a thousand times to keep such power in my hands. ❜ ❨62❩ ❛ There's the story, then there's the real story, then there's the story of how the story came to be told. Then there's what you leave out of the story. Which is part of the story too. ❜ ❨63❩ ❛ The best way of being kind to bears is not to be very close to them. ❜ ❨64❩ ❛ Life is warped. I'm just in sync. ❜ ❨65❩ ❛ Now it's a whisper from the past. ❜ ❨66❩ ❛ But hatred and viciousness are addictive. You can get high on them. Once you've had a little, you start shaking if you don't get more. ❜ ❨67❩ ❛ Why is it always such a surprise? The moon. Even though we know it's coming. Every time we see it, it makes us pause, and hush. ❜ ❨68❩ ❛ Perfection exacts a price, but it's the imperfect who pay it. ❜ ❨69❩ ❛ What is 'belief' but a willingness to suspend the negatives?  ❜ ❨70❩ ❛ I have scars, inside me. ❜ ❨71❩ ❛ The dead are not entirely dead but are alive in a different way; a paler way admittedly, and somewhat darker. ❜ ❨72❩ ❛ However dark, a darkness with voices in it is better than a silent void. ❜ ❨73❩ ❛ Amazing how quickly the past becomes idyllic. ❜ ❨74❩ ❛ It is another way of saying tough luck. To people you aren’t going to help out. ❜ ❨75❩ ❛ I'm waiting, far off in the future. ❜ ❨76❩ ❛ The only sure camouflage is unpredictability. ❜ ❨77❩ ❛ There are so many of them, and each one of them is doing part of the killing, whether they know it or not. ❜ ❨78❩ ❛ First rule: limit bloodshed by making sure that none of your own gets spilled. ❜ ❨79❩ ❛ I long to swim in liquid moonlight. ❜ ❨80❩ ❛ That's right, I don’t like to be summoned on trivial matters. ❜ ❨81❩ ❛ The part that really made me happy was that you wanted me to be happy. ❜ ❨82❩ ❛ Cut that part out of us: the grinning, elemental malice. Begin us anew. ❜ ❨83❩ ❛ Where there are wars, there will be crows, the carrion-fanciers. And ravens too, the warbirds, the eyeball gourmands. And vultures, the holy birds of yore, old connoisseurs of rot. ❜ ❨84❩ ❛ At last. It's you. ❜ ❨85❩ ❛ No, you will not be cooked on a fire when you die. Because you are not a fish. ❜ ❨86❩ ❛ Take what the moment offers. Don’t close doors. Be thankful. ❜ ❨87❩ ❛ How many others have stood in this place? Left behind, with all gone, all swept away. ❜ ❨88❩ ❛ Is it disapproval or extreme lust? With some men it’s hard to tell the difference. ❜ ❨89❩ ❛ My hair was driving me crazy, but then … I died. ❜ ❨90❩ ❛ Seek and ye shall find, eventually. And you found. You’re right, I don’t dispute that. Sorry. ❜ ❨91❩ ❛ Everything digests, and is digested. ❜ ❨92❩ ❛ My head was once a filing cabinet. Now it’s a flurry of papers, floating on a draft. ❜ ❨93❩ ❛ You cannot keep bumping your head against reality and saying it is not there. ❜ ❨94❩ ❛ I have a feeling that inside you somewhere, there’s something nobody knows about. ❜ ❨95❩ ❛ And if I don’t want to die, I’ve got to start living. ❜ ❨96❩ ❛ The world is a beautiful place. Don’t forget that. And don’t miss it. ❜ ❨97❩ ❛ I was fighting for my life. So I must not want to die. ❜ ❨98❩ ❛ Something’s happening to me, through me, something dangerous and new. ❜ ❨99❩ ❛ It’s taken root, a poison tree; it’s grown, fanning out, vines winding round my gut, my lungs, my heart. ❜ ❨100❩ ❛ We’re interpreters. We’re translators. ❜ ❨101❩ ❛ You’ll notice I’m not asking what made you this way. ❜ ❨102❩ ❛ No family, happy or unhappy, is quite like any other. Tolstoy was chock-fullo’shit. Remember that. ❜ ❨103❩ ❛ We lived in monochrome those nights. ❜ ❨104❩ ❛ You live in a dream. You’re a sleepwalker, blind. How do you know what the world is like? ❜ ❨105❩ ❛ Do you know, if you rip off the fronts of houses, you’d find swine? ❜ ❨106❩ ❛ I stand here in the dark: cold, utterly alone, full of fear and something that feels like longing. ❜ ❨107❩ ❛ The definition of insanity is doing the same thing again and again and expecting different results. ❜ ❨108❩ ❛ Not to warm the flesh, but solely to please the eye. ❜ ❨109❩ ❛ Selective emotional detachment. ❜ ❨110❩ ❛ Not for me, or at least not today. ❜ ❨111❩ ❛ Dead but not gone, watching life surge forward around me, powerless to intervene. ❜ ❨112❩ ❛ Do I sound like a hillbilly saying that? ❜ ❨113❩ ❛ Remember, you’ve got your secret weapon. ❜ ❨114❩ ❛ The dream drains away like water. The memory, really. I try to scoop it up in my palms, but it’s gone. ❜ ❨115❩ ❛ My shadow stretches along the carpet, as though trying to detach itself from me. ❜ ❨116❩ ❛ It curls away from me, like blood in water. ❜ ❨117❩ ❛ It’s been so long since I felt the rain. Or wind—the caress of wind. ❜ ❨118❩ ❛ But snow I never want to feel again. ❜ ❨119❩ ❛ Through adversity to the stars. ❜ ❨120❩ ❛ No hero. No sleuth. I am locked in. I am locked out. ❜ ❨121❩ ❛ Thinking hasn't gotten me anywhere so far. ❜ ❨122❩ ❛ The face you give the world tells the world how to treat you. ❜ ❨123❩ ❛ Sometimes I think illness sits inside every woman, waiting for the right moment to bloom. ❜ ❨124❩ ❛ Women get consumed. ❜ ❨125❩ ❛ Sometimes if you let people do things to you, you're really doing it to them. ❜ ❨126❩ ❛ A child weaned on poison considers harm a comfort. ❜ ❨127❩ ❛ Safer to be feared than loved. ❜ ❨128❩ ❛ I ached once, hard, like a period typed at the end of a sentence. ❜ ❨129❩ ❛ It's impossible to compete with the dead. I wish I could stop trying. ❜ ❨130❩ ❛ I always feel sad for the girl that I was. ❜ ❨131❩ ❛ Every time people said I was pretty, I thought of everything ugly swarming beneath my clothes. ❜ ❨132❩ ❛ How do you keep safe when your whole day is as wide and empty as the sky? Anything could happen. ❜ ❨133❩ ❛ See, there I am. I told you I lived. I told you I was. ❜ ❨134❩ ❛ Sometimes I think I won't ever feel safe until I can count my last days on one hand. ❜ ❨135❩ ❛ To refuse has so many more consequences than submitting. ❜ ❨136❩ ❛ I'm here. I don't usually feel that I am. ❜ ❨137❩ ❛ I'm tired of dying. ❜ ❨138❩ ❛ What if you hurt because it feels so good? ❜ ❨139❩ ❛ How confusing to live in the shadow of a shadow. ❜ ❨140❩ ❛ Do you ever feel like bad things are going to happen, and you can’t stop them? You can’t do anything, you just have to wait? ❜ ❨141❩ ❛ Sometimes my scars have a mind of their own. ❜ ❨142❩ ❛ Everyone has their own version of a memory. ❜ ❨143❩ ❛ Isn’t a smile a girl’s best weapon? ❜ ❨144❩ ❛ My sense of weightlessness, I think, comes from the fact that I know so little about my past. ❜ ❨145❩ ❛ Do what I want; I might like you. ❜ ❨146❩ ❛ I feel sorry for Persephone because even when she’s back with the living, people are afraid of her because of where’s she’s been. ❜ ❨147❩ ❛ She has never told me she loved me, and I never assumed she did. ❜ ❨148❩ ❛ The sight of it actually does something to you, makes you less human. ❜ ❨149❩ ❛ It infects you. It ruined me. ❜ ❨150❩ ❛ Your health is not a debt you just cancel. The body collects. ❜ ❨151❩ ❛ Men love to put things inside women, don’t they? ❜ ❨152❩ ❛ We can know only that we know nothing. And that is the highest degree of human wisdom. ❜ ❨153❩ ❛ Nothing is so necessary for a young man as the company of intelligent women. ❜ ❨154❩ ❛ The strongest of all warriors are these two — time and patience. ❜ ❨155❩ ❛ If everyone fought for their own convictions there would be no war. ❜ ❨156❩ ❛ There is no greatness where there is not simplicity, goodness, and truth. ❜ ❨157❩ ❛ The whole world is divided for me into two parts: one is she, and there is all happiness, hope, light; the other is where she is not, and there is dejection and darkness. ❜ ❨158❩ ❛ Let the dead bury the dead, but while I'm alive, I must live and be happy. ❜ ❨159❩ ❛ It's not given to people to judge what's right or wrong. People have eternally been mistaken and will be mistaken, and in nothing more than in what they consider right and wrong. ❜ ❨160❩ ❛ You can love a person dear to you with a human love, but an enemy can only be loved with divine love. ❜ ❨161❩ ❛ If we admit that human life can be ruled by reason, then all possibility of life is destroyed. ❜ ❨162❩ ❛ We are asleep until we fall in love! ❜ ❨163❩ ❛ I simply want to live; to cause no evil to anyone but myself. ❜ ❨164❩ ❛ Everything I know, I know because of love. ❜ ❨165❩ ❛ Man cannot possess anything as long as he fears death. But to him who does not fear it, everything belongs. ❜ ❨166❩ ❛ If there was no suffering, man would not know his limits, would not know himself. ❜ ❨167❩ ❛ Yes, love, but not the love that loves for something, to gain something, or because of something, but that love that I felt for the first time, when dying, I saw my enemy and yet loved him. ❜ ❨168❩ ❛ How can one be well...when one suffers morally? ❜ ❨169❩ ❛ Kings are the slaves of history. ❜ ❨170❩ ❛ God is the same everywhere. ❜ ❨171❩ ❛ Pure and complete sorrow is as impossible as pure and complete joy. ❜ ❨172❩ ❛ One must be cunning and wicked in this world. ❜ ❨173❩ ❛ We love people not so much for the good they've done us, as for the good we've done them. ❜ ❨174❩ ❛ When one's head is gone one doesn't weep over one's hair! ❜ ❨175❩ ❛ For what, for whom, must I kill and be killed? ❜ ❨176❩ ❛ He did what heroes do after their work is accomplished; he died. ❜ ❨177❩ ❛ Life is too long to say anything definitely; always say perhaps. ❜ ❨178❩ ❛ Everything ends in death, everything. Death is terrible. ❜ ❨179❩ ❛ The distant and impossible suddenly became near, possible, and inevitable. ❜ ❨180❩ ❛ How often we sin, how much we deceive, and all for what? ❜ ❨181❩ ❛ The wolves should be fed and the sheep kept safe. ❜ ❨182❩ ❛ When I was a child, adults would tell me not to make things up, warning me of what would happen if I did. ❜ ❨183❩ ❛ My memory is a patchwork of occurrences, of discontinuous events roughly sewn together: the parts I remember, I remember precisely, whilst other sections seem to have vanished completely. ❜ ❨184❩ ❛ Would it be worse to love someone who is no longer there, or not to love someone who is? ❜ ❨185❩ ❛ Like mirrors stories prepare us for the day to come. They distract us from the things in darkness. ❜ ❨186❩ ❛ It is not that I was credulous, simply that I believed in all things dark and dangerous. ❜ ❨187❩ ❛ Sometimes you do things you regret, but there's nothing you can do about them. Times change. Doors close behind you. You move on. ❜ ❨188❩ ❛ Love will be an impulse that will inspire and ruin in equal measure. ❜ ❨189❩ ❛ He died alone. It don't matter a rat's ass whether there was anyone with him or not. He died alone. ❜ ❨190❩ ❛ It was love, I knew, and it tasted like champagne in my mind. ❜ ❨191❩ ❛ The end of the world is a strange concept. The world is always ending, and the end is always being averted, by love or foolishness or just plain old dumb luck. ❜ ❨192❩ ❛ She was my dream; and if you touch a dream it vanishes, like a soap bubble. ❜ ❨193❩ ❛ Daylight is always safe. ❜ ❨194❩ ❛ If not for death, they'd be content to simply exist, but with death, well, their lives will have meaning. ❜ ❨195❩ ❛ You want to know the future, love? Then wait. ❜ ❨196❩ ❛ There are things in the darkness beneath us that wish us harm. ❜ ❨197❩ ❛ Fairy tales are more than true. Not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be defeated ❜ ❨198❩ ❛ But sometimes you leave blood on your instruments. ❜ ❨199❩ ❛ I'd like to be a wolf. Not all the time. Just sometimes. In the dark. I would run through the forests. ❜ ❨200❩ ❛ You've seen them. They have mouths that twitch, and eyes that stare, and they babble and they mewl and they whimper. ❜ ❨201❩ ❛ They are not mad, or rather, the loss of their sanity is the lesser of their problems. ❜ ❨202❩ ❛ Good a reason for writing as I know: releasing demons, letting them fly. ❜ ❨203❩ ❛ That miserable state in which everything seems flat and of equal importance; when nothing matters, and in which reality seems scraped thin and threadbare. ❜ ❨204❩ ❛ Someone had scrawled graffiti in black marker on the metal: JUST DIE, it said. Like it is easy. ❜ ❨205❩ ❛ Winter started today. The sky turned grey and the snow began to fall and it did not stop falling until well after dark. ❜ ❨206❩ ❛ Memory is the great deceiver. ❜ ❨207❩ ❛ Silly things do cease to be silly if they are done by sensible people in an impudent way. ❜ ❨208❩ ❛ I may have lost my heart, but not my self-control.  ❜ ❨209❩ ❛ If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. ❜ ❨210❩ ❛ I always deserve the best treatment because I never put up with any other. ❜ ❨211❩ ❛ But you know what I am. You hear nothing but truth from me. ❜ ❨212❩ ❛ I have blamed you, and lectured you, and you have borne it as no other would have borne it. ❜ ❨213❩ ❛ There are people, who the more you do for them, the less they will do for themselves. ❜ ❨214❩ ❛ One half of the world cannot understand the pleasures of the other. ❜ ❨215❩ ❛ Better be without sense than misapply it as you do. ❜ ❨216❩ ❛ You must be the best judge of your own happiness. ❜ ❨217❩ ❛ Were I to fall in love, indeed, it would be a different thing ; but I have never been in love ; it is not my way, or my nature ; and I do not think I ever shall. ❜ ❨218❩ ❛ Indeed, I am very sorry to be right in this instance. I would much rather have been merry than wise. ❜ ❨219❩ ❛ If I have not spoken, it is because I am afraid I will awaken myself from this dream. ❜ ❨220❩ ❛ If a woman doubts as to whether she should accept a man or not, she certainly ought to refuse him. ❜ ❨221❩ ❛ Faultless in spite of all her faults. ❜ ❨222❩ ❛ A heroine whom no one but myself will much like. ❜ ❨223❩ ❛ There is no charm equal to tenderness of heart. ❜ ❨224❩ ❛ Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, and waste its fragrance on the desert air. ❜ ❨225❩ ❛ I pity you. I thought you cleverer. ❜ ❨226❩ ❛ Evil to some is always good to others. ❜ ❨227❩ ❛ I certainly will not persuade myself to feel more than I do. ❜ ❨228❩ ❛ She is loveliness itself. ❜ ❨229❩ ❛ Time does not compose me. ❜ ❨230❩ ❛ A man always imagines a woman to be ready for anybody who asks her. ❜ ❨231❩ ❛ I do not find myself making any use of the word sacrifice. ❜ ❨232❩ ❛ I am quite enough in love. I should be sorry to be any more. ❜ ❨233❩ ❛ I must tell you what you will not ask, though I may wish it unsaid the next moment. ❜ ❨234❩ ❛ I examined my own heart. And there you were. Never, I fear, to be removed. ❜ ❨235❩ ❛ With all your little faults, you are an excellent creature. ❜ ❨236❩ ❛ You have another long walk before you. ❜ ❨237❩ ❛ The child's laughter is pure until he first laughs at a clown. ❜ ❨238❩ ❛ What is marriage but prostitution to one man instead of many? ❜ ❨239❩ ❛ Out of the frying pan into the fire! ❜ ❨240❩ ❛ We must all make do with the rags of love we find flapping on the scarecrow of humanity. ❜ ❨241❩ ❛ She sleeps. And now she wakes each day a little less. ❜ ❨242❩ ❛ And, oh, God . . . how frequently I weep! ❜ ❨243❩ ❛ From the coffin of your madness there is no escape. ❜ ❨244❩ ❛ I am feeling supernatural tonight. I want to eat diamonds. ❜ ❨245❩ ❛ All the same there is a chance that if we keep on shaking our chains, one day, some day, the clasps upon the shackles will part. ❜ ❨246❩ ❛ It was sad music fit to make you cut your throat. ❜ ❨247❩ ❛ Nothing is more boring than being forced to play. ❜ ❨248❩ ❛ Amongst the monsters, I am well hidden; who looks for a leaf in a forest? ❜ ❨249❩ ❛ Wherein does a woman’s honour reside? In her vagina or in her spirit? ❜ ❨250❩ ❛ Perhaps...I could not be content with mere contentment! ❜ ❨251❩ ❛ Have you ever stared stark failure in the face? The trick is to outstare it. ❜ ❨252❩ ❛ Sometimes it seems that the faces exist of themselves, in a disembodied somewhere, waiting for the one who will wear them, who will bring them to life. ❜ ❨253❩ ❛ I have the febrile gaiety of a being without a past, without a present, yet I exist. ❜ ❨254❩ ❛ I felt myself turning, willy-nilly, from a woman into an idea. ❜ ❨255❩ ❛ She looks wonderful, but she doesn't look right. ❜ ❨256❩ ❛ The one-eyed man will be King in the country of the blind. ❜ ❨257❩ ❛ I raised you up to fly to the heavens, not to brood over a clutch of eggs! ❜ ❨258❩ ❛ I love to hear my bones rattle. That’s how I know I’m alive. ❜ ❨259❩ ❛ I learnt, first, as the birds do, from the birds. ❜ ❨260❩ ❛ Inside and outside match exactly, but both are badly wrong. ❜ ❨261❩ ❛ During the less-than-blink of time it took the last chime to die, there came a vertiginous sensation. ❜ ❨262❩ ❛ I fear a wound not of the body but the soul, an irreconcilable division between myself and the rest of humankind. ❜ ❨263❩ ❛ I fear the proof of my own singularity. ❜ ❨264❩ ❛ Still nothing could calm the fearful storm in my erupting skin. ❜ ❨265❩ ❛ Petersburg, loveliest of all hallucinations. ❜ ❨266❩ ❛ A breathless second between black forest and the frozen sea. ❜ ❨267❩ ❛ I'm beginning to feel totally cut off from the world. ❜ ❨268❩ ❛ What does this all mean? Where are we? ❜ ❨269❩ ❛ Sometimes I bleed. ❜ ❨270❩ ❛ If you see a ghost, you say "hello". ❜ ❨271❩ ❛ The war is not over. ❜ ❨272❩ ❛ You're not going. You left us once already. ❜ ❨273❩ ❛ You can’t go! ❜ ❨274❩ ❛ I loved you, but that wasn't enough, was it? ❜ ❨275❩ ❛ If you're dead, then leave me in peace. ❜ ❨276❩ ❛ The only thing that moves here is the light, but it changes everything. ❜ ❨277❩ ❛ I won't ask for forgiveness for something I didn't do! ❜ ❨278❩ ❛ Sometimes the world of the living gets mixed up with the world of the dead. ❜ ❨279❩ ❛ Death of a loved one can lead people to do the strangest things. ❜ ❨280❩ ❛ Sooner or later, they will find you. ❜ ❨281❩ ❛ They're everywhere - they say this house is theirs. ❜ ❨282❩ ❛ You're always teasing me, and telling lies. I'm sick of it. ❜ ❨283❩ ❛ Others will come. Sometimes we'll sense them. Other times, we won't. ❜ ❨284❩ ❛ No crying now. No crying. Stop that. Here. Look what an awful face you've got when you cry. ❜ ❨285❩ ❛ You listen to me. I've seen them too. ❜ ❨286❩ ❛ You'll see. There are going to be some big surprises. There are going to be... changes. ❜ ❨287❩ ❛ Why did you go and fight that stupid war that had nothing to do with us? Why didn't you stay like the others did? ❜ ❨288❩ ❛ Your place was here with your family. ❜ ❨289❩ ❛ So you say you know this house well? ❜ ❨290❩ ❛ I wasn't expecting you so soon. ❜ ❨291❩ ❛ What's the matter? Has the cat got your tongue? ❜ ❨292❩ ❛ You mean they just vanished? Into thin air? ❜ ❨293❩ ❛ No door must be opened without the previous one being closed first. ❜ ❨294❩ ❛ Here, most of the time, you can hardly see your way. ❜ ❨295❩ ❛ Whatever you do, don't open the curtains. ❜ ❨296❩ ❛ Now, come on. Eyes closed. ❜ ❨297❩ ❛ We start off with high hopes, then we bottle it. We realise that we’re all going to die, without really finding out the big answers. ❜ ❨298❩ ❛ By definition, you have to live until you die. Better to make that life as complete and enjoyable an experience as possible, in case death is shite, which I suspect it will be. ❜ ❨299❩ ❛ I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin’ else. ❜ ❨300❩ ❛ And the reasons? There are no reasons. ❜ ❨301❩ ❛ Love does not exist, it's like religion, made to control you. ❜ ❨302❩ ❛ After all, we're not fucking stupid. At least, we're not that fucking stupid. ❜ ❨303❩ ❛ You fucking knew that fucking cunt would fuck some cunt. ❜ ❨304❩ ❛ Everything in the street today seems soft focus. ❜ ❨305❩ ❛ What does that make us? The lowest of the low. ❜ ❨306❩ ❛ Take your best orgasm, multiply the feeling by twenty, and you're still fuckin’ miles off the pace. ❜ ❨307❩ ❛ It’s as if everything is a copy of what you knew before, similar, yet somehow lacking in its usual qualities, a bit like the way things are in a dream. ❜ ❨308❩ ❛ It’s all okay, it’s all beautiful; but I fear that this internal sea is going to subside soon, leaving this poisonous shite washed up, stranded up in my body. ❜ ❨309❩ ❛ It cuts me up. It confuses me. ❜ ❨310❩ ❛ It's not funny laughter. This is lynch mob laughter. ❜ ❨311❩ ❛ Protect me from those who wish to help us. ❜ ❨312❩ ❛ They mean well, and they mean well to me, but there's no way under the sun that they can appreciate what I feel, what I need. ❜ ❨313❩ ❛ The pit of melancholy is a bottomless one, and I am descending fast. ❜ ❨314❩ ❛ Living like this is a full-time business. ❜ ❨315❩ ❛ I’ll stand or fall alone. ❜ ❨316❩ ❛ We are no wiser now than at the start. ❜ ❨317❩ ❛ This is pathetic, and fucking boring. ❜ ❨318❩ ❛ Death is usually a process, rather than an event. ❜ ❨319❩ ❛ We're ruled by effete arseholes. What does that make us? ❜ ❨320❩ ❛ We are all acquaintances now. ❜ ❨321❩ ❛ The problem is that this beautiful ocean carries with it loads of poisonous flotsam and jetsam. ❜ ❨322❩ ❛ Life is beautiful. I'm going to enjoy it, and I'm going to have a long life. ❜ ❨323❩ ❛ The grim reality of impending death can be talked away by trying to invest in the present reality of life. ❜ ❨324❩ ❛ There must be more to life than this. ❜ ❨325❩ ❛ We all see what we want to see. ❜ ❨326❩ ❛ Statistically speaking, you're more likely to be killed by a member of your own family or a close friend, than by anyone else. ❜ ❨327❩ ❛ What am I living for and what am I dying for are the same question. ❜ ❨328❩ ❛ Maybe that's what love is: it's being pissed off. ❜ ❨329❩ ❛ You can forget who you are if you're alone too much. ❜ ❨330❩ ❛ Any religion is a shadow of God. But the shadows of God are not God. ❜ ❨331❩ ❛ Human understanding is fallible, and we see through a glass, darkly.  ❜ ❨332❩ ❛ We must be a beacon of hope, because if you tell people there's nothing they can do, they will do worse than nothing. ❜ ❨333❩ ❛ Everyone wants to feel like a princess, and princesses are selfish and overbearing. ❜ ❨334❩ ❛ We shouldn't have been so scornful; we should have had compassion. But compassion takes work, and we were young. ❜ ❨335❩ ❛ How easy it is, treachery. You just slide into it. ❜ ❨336❩ ❛ Amazing how the heart clutches at anything familiar, whimpering: Mine! Mine! ❜ ❨337❩ ❛ All creatures know that some must die ; that all the rest may take and eat. ❜ ❨338❩ ❛ Is this the image of a god? My tooth for yours, your eye for mine? ❜ ❨339❩ ❛ Without the light, no chance; without the dark, no dance. ❜ ❨340❩ ❛ Why are we designed to see the world as supremely beautiful just as we're about to be snuffed? Do rabbits feel the same as the fox teeth bite down on their necks? Is it mercy? ❜ ❨341❩ ❛ Love is useless, it leads you into dumb exchanges in which you give too much away, and then you get bitter and mean. ❜ ❨342❩ ❛ Maybe sadness is a kind of hunger. Maybe the two go together. ❜ ❨343❩ ❛ Now I can see how that can happen. You can fall in love with anybody -- a fool, a criminal, a nothing. There are no good rules. ❜ ❨344❩ ❛ If you really want to stay the same age you are now forever and ever, try jumping off the roof: death's a sure-fire method for stopping time. ❜ ❨345❩ ❛ You couldn’t leave words lying around where our enemies might find them. ❜ ❨346❩ ❛ I'm fine, for the moment. And the moment is the only time we can be fine in. ❜ ❨347❩ ❛ Because if you can't wish, why bother? ❜ ❨348❩ ❛ It's better to hope than mope! ❜ ❨349❩ ❛ Reality has too much darkness in it. Too many crows. ❜ ❨350❩ ❛ In any case, time is not a thing that passes, it’s a sea on which you float. ❜ ❨351❩ ❛ I know I’m deceiving myself, but I prefer to deceive myself. I desperately need to believe such pure joy is still possible. ❜ ❨352❩ ❛ Too much God and you overdose. God needs to be filtered. ❜ ❨353❩ ❛ Behind my eyelids I saw an animal. It was golden colour, with gentle green eyes and canine teeth, and curly wool instead of fur. It opened its mouth, but it did not speak. Instead, it yawned. ❜ ❨354❩ ❛ ‘Why can't I believe?’ I asked the darkness. ❜ ❨355❩ ❛ Everyone’s too sad for everything. ❜ ❨356❩ ❛ If you can’t stop the waves, go sailing. ❜ ❨357❩ ❛ I would like to be the air that inhabits you for a moment only. I would like to be that unnoticed and that necessary. ❜ ❨358❩ ❛ Men are afraid that women will laugh at them. Women are afraid that men will kill them. ❜ ❨359❩ ❛ In the end, we'll all become stories. ❜ ❨360❩ ❛ I am inadequate and stupid, without worth. I might as well be dead. ❜ ❨361❩ ❛ If you knew what was going to happen, if you knew everything that was going to happen next—if you knew in advance the consequences of your own actions—you'd be doomed. You'd be ruined as God. ❜ ❨362❩ ❛ If you can't go through an obstacle, go around it. ❜ ❨363❩ ❛ Stupidity is the same as evil if you judge by the results. ❜ ❨364❩ ❛ Time in dreams is frozen. You can never get away from where you've been. ❜ ❨365❩ ❛ Male fantasies, male fantasies, is everything run by male fantasies? ❜ ❨366❩ ❛ We still think of a powerful man as a born leader and a powerful woman as an anomaly. ❜ ❨367❩ ❛ If I love you, is that a fact or a weapon? ❜ ❨368❩ ❛ You fit into me like a hook into an eye. ❜ ❨369❩ ❛ Knowing too much about other people puts you in their power, they have a claim on you, you are forced to understand their reasons for doing things and then you are weakened. ❜ ❨370❩ ❛ Farewells can be shattering, but returns are surely worse. ❜ ❨371❩ ❛ Women have curious ways of hurting someone else. ❜ ❨372❩ ❛ This is the one song everyone would like to learn: the song that is irresistible: the song that forces men to leap overboard in squadrons. ❜ ❨373❩ ❛ Get rid of death. Make it be spring. ❜ ❨374❩ ❛ You are innocent as a bathtub full of bullets. ❜ ❨375❩ ❛ I am the space you desecrate as you pass through. ❜ ❨376❩ ❛ Favour me and give me riches, destroy my enemies. Save me from death. ❜ ❨377❩ ❛ She is a raw voice loose in the rooms beneath me. ❜ ❨378❩ ❛ Isn't the moon warm enough for you, why do you need the blanket of another body? ❜ ❨379❩ ❛ This is a torch song. Touch me and you'll burn. ❜ ❨380❩ ❛ If you look long enough eventually you will see me. ❜ ❨381❩ ❛ I would like to sleep with you, to enter your sleep as its smooth dark wave slides over my head. ❜ ❨382❩ ❛ I would like to give you the silver branch, the small white flower, the one word that will protect you from the grief. ❜ ❨383❩ ❛ But some people can't tell where it hurts. They can't calm down. They can't ever stop howling. ❜ ❨384❩ ❛ How else can we live, these days, except in the midst of ruin? ❜ ❨385❩ ❛ What am I living for and what am I dying for are the same question. ❜ ❨386❩ ❛ Gods always come in handy, they justify almost anything. ❜ ❨387❩ ❛ We loved with a love that was more than love. ❜ ❨388❩ ❛ Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before. ❜ ❨389❩ ❛ The boundaries which divide life from death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins? ❜ ❨390❩ ❛ There is no exquisite beauty without some strangeness in the proportion. ❜ ❨391❩ ❛ Never to suffer would never to have been blessed. ❜ ❨392❩ ❛ Believe only half of what you see and nothing that you hear. ❜ ❨393❩ ❛ And all I loved, I loved alone. ❜ ❨394❩ ❛ Years of love have been forgot, in the hatred of a minute. ❜ ❨395❩ ❛ The best things in life make you sweaty. ❜ ❨396❩ ❛ There are some secrets which do not permit themselves to be told. ❜ ❨397❩ ❛ Anything is better than this agony. ❜ ❨398❩ ❛ You fancy me mad. ❜ ❨399❩ ❛ I hear all things in the heaven and in the earth. ❜ ❨400❩ ❛ Who dares insult us with this blasphemous mockery? ❜ ❨401❩ ❛ Leave my loneliness unbroken! ❜ ❨402❩ ❛ A more than fiendish malevolence, gin-nurtured, thrills every fibre of my frame. ❜ ❨403❩ ❛ The fury of a demon instantly possessed me. I knew myself no longer. ❜ ❨404❩ ❛ Let my heart be still a moment. ❜ ❨405❩ ❛ You call it hope —  It is but agony of desire. ❜ ❨406❩ ❛ Who has not, a hundred times, found himself committing a vile or silly action for no other reason than because he knows he should not? ❜ ❨407❩ ❛ To die laughing must be the most glorious of all glorious deaths! ❜ ❨408❩ ❛ The beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage. ❜ ❨409❩ ❛ Oh what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive. ❜ ❨410❩ ❛ I have been happy, though in a dream. ❜ ❨411❩ ❛ Nevermore. ❜ ❨412❩ ❛ The truth is, I am heartily sick of this life. ❜ ❨413❩ ❛ I am convinced that every thing is going wrong. ❜ ❨414❩ ❛ The scariest monsters are the ones that lurk within our souls. ❜ ❨415❩ ❛ And if I died, at least I will have died for you! ❜ ❨416❩ ❛ It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. ❜ ❨417❩ ❛ Hurt and humiliation — But this, I can not take. ❜ ❨418❩ ❛ The walls in there have ears. ❜ ❨419❩ ❛ This is for your ears only. ❜ ❨420❩ ❛ What is it? You have me scared. ❜ ❨421❩ ❛ Whoever isn’t for us, is against us. ❜ ❨422❩ ❛ You are just a body; to be dumped, disposed of like a carcass, left out for the birds to feed on. ❜ ❨423❩ ❛ The dead will have to forgive me. ❜ ❨424❩ ❛ From now on and no matter how your mind may I change, I will not accept your help. ❜ ❨425❩ ❛ If death comes, so be it. There will be glory in it. ❜ ❨426❩ ❛ Live, then; and live with your choice. ❜ ❨427❩ ❛ I am doing what has to be done. ❜ ❨428❩ ❛ Nothing is going to stop the ones that love you from keeping on loving you. ❜ ❨429❩ ❛ Worst is the man who has all the good advice, and then because his nerve fails, fails to act in accordance with it, as a leader should. ❜ ❨430❩ ❛ Only a loony would walk himself into this. ❜ ❨431❩ ❛ Why do you need such fences and defences? ❜ ❨432❩ ❛ Enough. Do not anger me. ❜ ❨433❩ ❛ The gods, you think, will side with the likes of him? ❜ ❨434❩ ❛ Watch it. You are over stepping. ❜ ❨435❩ ❛ I warn you. You should keep a civil tongue. ❜ ❨436❩ ❛ There is no such thing as an oath the can not be broken. ❜ ❨437❩ ❛ Every now and then, the things you’d hardly let yourself imagine, actually happen. ❜ ❨438❩ ❛ And you stand over this? This is the truth? ❜ ❨439❩ ❛ The bigger the resistance, the bigger the collapse. ❜ ❨440❩ ❛ Iron that’s forged the hardest, snaps the quickest. ❜ ❨441❩ ❛ Even the wildest horses come to heel when they are reined & bitted right. ❜ ❨442❩ ❛ That’s how guilt affects some people. They break and everything comes out. ❜ ❨443❩ ❛ Will it be enough for you? To see me executed? ❜ ❨444❩ ❛ So you know something no one else knows? ❜ ❨445❩ ❛ They know it too. They are just too afraid to say it. ❜ ❨446❩ ❛ If you die, how will I keep on living? ❜ ❨447❩ ❛ There was a star riding through clouds one night, & I said to the star, 'Consume me'. ❜ ❨448❩ ❛ How much better to sit by myself like the solitary sea-bird that opens its wings on the stake. ❜ ❨449❩ ❛ Alone, I often fall down into nothingness. I have to bang my head against some hard door to call myself back to the body. ❜ ❨450❩ ❛ I am made and remade continually. Different people draw different words from me. ❜ ❨451❩ ❛ For this moment, this one moment, we are together.  ❜ ❨452❩ ❛ Come, pain, feed on me. Bury your fangs in my flesh. Tear me asunder. ❜ ❨453❩ ❛ I am as neat as a cat in my habits. ❜ ❨454❩ ❛ Everything falls in a tremendous shower, dissolving me. ❜ ❨455❩ ❛ I am the foam that sweeps and fills the uttermost rims of the rocks with whiteness; I am also a girl, here in this room. ❜ ❨456❩ ❛ We are cut, we are fallen. We are become part of that unfeeling universe ❨457❩ that sleeps when we are at our quickest and burns red when we lie ❨458❩ asleep. ❜ ❨459❩ ❛ These moments of escape are not to be despised. They come too seldom. ❜ ❨460❩ ❛ Up here my eyes are green leaves, unseeing. ❜ ❨461❩ ❛ The moment is all; the moment is enough. ❜ ❨462❩ ❛ I do not want to be admired. I want to give, to be given. ❜ ❨463❩ ❛ I am not one and simple, but complex and many. ❜ ❨464❩ ❛ And if you are dead, I shall weep. ❜ ❨465❩ ❛ But beauty must be broken daily to remain beautiful. ❜ ❨466❩ ❛ But our hatred is almost indistinguishable from our love. ❜ ❨467❩ ❛ I desired always to stretch the night and fill it fuller and fuller with dreams. ❜ ❨468❩ ❛ Life is a dream surely. ❜ ❨469❩ ❛ I think sometimes I am not a woman, but the light that falls on this gate, on this ground. I am the seasons, I think sometimes, January, May, November; the mud, the mist, the dawn. ❜ ❨470❩ ❛ Oh, I am in love with life! ❜ ❨471❩ ❛ I have been knotted; I have been torn apart. ❜ ❨472❩ ❛ There was no freedom in life, and certainly there was none in death. ❜ ❨473❩ ❛ I do not know. I do not know myself sometimes, or how to measure and name and count out the grains that make me what I am. ❜ ❨474❩ ❛ I ride rough waters, and shall sink with no one to save me. ❜ ❨475❩ ❛ I am above the earth now. I am no longer upright, to be knocked against and damaged. ❜ ❨476❩ ❛ I see it all. I feel it all. ❜ ❨477❩ ❛ Death is woven in with the violets. Death and again death. ❜ ❨478❩ ❛ We have been walking for hours it seems. But where? I cannot remember. ❜ ❨479❩ ❛ If we were all on trial for our thoughts, we would all be hanged. ❜ ❨480❩ ❛ When you are in the middle of a story it isn't a story at all, but only a confusion; a dark roaring, a blindness, a wreckage of shattered glass. ❜ ❨481❩ ❛ Murderess is a strong word to have attached to you. It has a smell to it, that word; - musky and oppressive, like dead flowers in a vase.  ❜ ❨482❩ ❛ Sometimes at night I whisper it over to myself: Murderess, murderess. It rustles, like a taffeta skirt across the floor. ❜ ❨483❩ ❛ If the world treats you well, you come to believe you are deserving of it. ❜ ❨484❩ ❛ If I am good enough and quiet enough, perhaps after all they will let me go. ❜ ❨485❩ ❛ It’s not easy being quiet and good, it’s like hanging on to the edge of a bridge when you’ve already fallen over; you don’t seem to be moving, just dangling there, and yet it is taking all your strength. ❜ ❨486❩ ❛ There is no fool like an educated fool. ❜ ❨487❩ ❛ There are many dangerous things that may take place in a bed. ❜ ❨488❩ ❛ I am afraid of falling into hopeless despair, over my wasted life, and I am still not sure how it happened. ❜ ❨489❩ ❛ Underneath it all is another feeling, a feeling of being wide-eyed awake and watchful. ❜ ❨490❩ ❛ And underneath all that is another feeling still, a feeling like being torn open; not like a body of flesh, it is not painful as such, but like a peach; and not even torn open, but ripe and splitting open of its own accord.  ❜ ❨491❩ ❛ The small details of life often hide a great significance. ❜ ❨492❩ ❛ Guilt comes to you not from the things you've done, but from the things that others have done to you. ❜ ❨493❩ ❛ I wonder, how can I be all of these different things at once? ❜ ❨494❩ ❛ It is always a mistake to curse back openly at those who are stronger than you unless there is a fence between. ❜ ❨495❩ ❛ Some call this "Eve's curse," but I think that is stupid because the real curse of Eve was having to put up with the nonsense of Adam. ❜ ❨496❩ ❛ I don't know why they are all so eager to be remembered. What good will it do them? There are some things that should be forgotten by everyone, and never spoken of again. ❜ ❨497❩ ❛ I would never blame a human creature for feeling lonely. ❜ ❨498❩ ❛ If they want a monster so badly they ought to be provided by one. ❜ ❨499❩ ❛ It’s as if I never existed, because no trace of me remains, I have left no marks. And that way I cannot be followed. It is almost the same as being innocent. ❜ ❨500❩ ❛ Today you wear your habitual expression of strained anxiety; you smell of violets. ❜ ❨501❩ ❛ Of course you have always been an idealist, and filled with your optimistic dreams; but reality must at some time obtrude. ❜ ❨502❩ ❛ I wonder what would become of me, and comfort myself that in a hundred years I will be dead and at peace. ❜ ❨503❩ ❛ For it is not always the one that strikes the blow that is the actual murderer. ❜ ❨504❩ ❛ There is a “do this” or “do that” with God, but not any “because”. ❜ ❨505❩ ❛ If you have a need and they find it out, they will use it against you. The best way is to stop from wanting anything. ❜ ❨506❩ ❛ They say, why don’t you ever smile or laugh, we never see you smiling, and I say I suppose I have gotten out of the way of it, my face won’t bend in that direction any more. ❜ ❨507❩ ❛ I was shut up inside that doll of myself, and my true voice could not get out. ❜ ❨508❩ ❛ I see what you’re after. You are a collector. You think all you have to do is give me an apple, and then you can collect me. ❜ ❨509❩ ❛ If you want to be an asshole, it's a free country. Millions before you have made the same life choice. ❜ ❨510❩ ❛ Then there's the future. Sheer vertigo. ❜ ❨511❩ ❛ Nature is to zoos as God is to churches. ❜ ❨512❩ ❛ After everything that's happened, how can the world still be so beautiful? ❜ ❨513❩ ❛ There's something to be said for hunger: at least it lets you know you're still alive. ❜ ❨514❩ ❛ These things sneak up on me for no reason, these flashes of irrational happiness. It's probably a vitamin deficiency. ❜ ❨515❩ ❛ Toast cannot be explained by any rational means. Toast is me. I am toast. ❜ ❨516❩ ❛ You can’t buy it, but it has a price. Everything has a price. ❜ ❨517❩ ❛ As a species were doomed by hope, then? You could call it hope. That, or desperation. ❜ ❨518❩ ❛ I am not my childhood. ❜ ❨519❩ ❛ Human beings hope they can stick their souls into someone else and live on forever. ❜ ❨520❩ ❛ “I'll make you mine”, lovers said in old books. They never said, “I'll make you me.” ❜ ❨521❩ ❛ How much is too much, how far is too far? ❜ ❨522❩ ❛ Expectation isn't the same as desire. ❜ ❨523❩ ❛ Why not cut to the chase? ❜ ❨524❩ ❛ Maybe there aren't any solutions. Human society, corpses and rubble. ❜ ❨525❩ ❛ I thought you didn’t believe in God. ❜ ❨526❩ ❛ I need at least the illusion of being understood. ❜ ❨527❩ ❛ What change would have altered the course of events? In the big picture, nothing. In the small picture, so much. ❜ ❨528❩ ❛ You are only looking at the dirt under your feet. It's not good for you. ❜ ❨529❩ ❛ I like to keep only the bright side of myself turned towards you.  ❜ ❨530❩ ❛ Grief in the face of inevitable death. The wish to stop time. The human condition. ❜ ❨531❩ ❛ So many crucial events take place behind people’s backs, when they aren’t in a position to watch: birth and death, for instance. ❜ ❨532❩ ❛ Would you kill someone you loved to spare them pain? ❜ ❨533❩ ❛ When the water’s moving faster than the boat, you can’t control a thing. ❜ ❨534❩ ❛ Don't be so fucking sentimental. ❜ ❨535❩ ❛ Wrong, as usual. ❜ ❨536❩ ❛ Why do you want to talk about ugly things? ❜ ❨537❩ ❛ I understand why serial killers send helpful clues to the police. ❜ ❨538❩ ❛ Take your time, leave mine alone. ❜ ❨539❩ ❛ You will hear thunder and remember me. ❜ ❨540❩ ❛ If you were music, I would listen to you ceaselessly. ❜ ❨541❩ ❛ I seem to myself an accidental guest in this dreadful body. ❜ ❨542❩ ❛ Call me a sinner, mock me maliciously. ❜ ❨543❩ ❛ I, from the very beginning, seemed to myself like someone's dream or delirium. Or a reflection in someone else's mirror. Without flesh, without meaning, without a name. ❜ ❨544❩ ❛ I knew the list of crimes that I was destined to commit. ❜ ❨545❩ ❛ The future ripens in the past, so the past rots in the future. ❜ ❨546❩ ❛ You are untranslatable into any one tongue. ❜ ❨547❩ ❛ I was hoping my silence would fit yours. ❜ ❨548❩ ❛ See, we were never about butterflies. All about us is unearthly and radiant. ❜ ❨549❩ ❛ You do not know just what you've been forgiven. ❜ ❨550❩ ❛ I need to slaughter my memory.  ❜ ❨551❩ ❛ Forgive me that I appeared to you in waking dreams. ❜ ❨552❩ ❛ I will condemn, I will forget, I will give comfort to the enemy. ❜ ❨553❩ ❛ I know beginnings, I know endings too, and life-in-death. ❜ ❨554❩ ❛ Wild honey smells of freedom. But gold smells of nothing. ❜ ❨555❩ ❛ You are three times more beautiful than angels. ❜ ❨556❩ ❛ I will kill you without spilling your blood on the ground, not touching you with my hand, not giving you one glance. ❜ ❨557❩ ❛ You invented me. There is no such earthly being. ❜ ❨558❩ ❛ You’re late. Way too late. I’m glad to see you, nonetheless. ❜ ❨559❩ ❛ Forgive me that I felt forsaken. Forgive me that I kept mistaking too many others for you. ❜ ❨560❩ ❛ Real tenderness can’t be confused, it’s quiet and can’t be heard. ❜ ❨561❩ ❛ What else lived in that house besides us? ❜ ❨562❩ ❛ How unhappy we are together! ❜ ❨563❩ ❛ I defend not my voice, but my silence. ❜ ❨564❩ ❛ Without love, I'm more at ease, I'm sure. ❜ ❨565❩ ❛ I've got no more tears or explanations. ❜ ❨566❩ ❛ I’m not complaining. Happiness is not for me. ❜ ❨567❩ ❛ Are you not the only tie between good and evil, earthly pits and paradise? ❜ ❨568❩ ❛ In the morning we shall find out who has died in the night. ❜ ❨569❩ ❛ I was not a lovable child, and I've grown into a deeply unlovable adult. ❜ ❨570❩ ❛ The truly frightening flaw in humanity is our capacity for cruelty - we all have it. ❜ ❨571❩ ❛ I have a meanness inside me, real as an organ. Slit me at my belly and it might slide out, meaty and dark. ❜ ❨572❩ ❛ I am not angry or sad or happy to see you. I could not give a shit. You don't even ripple. ❜ ❨573❩ ❛ I was raised feral, and I mostly stayed that way. ❜ ❨574❩ ❛ I can feel a better version of me somewhere in there - hidden behind a liver or attached to a bit of spleen. But the meanness usually wins out. ❜ ❨575❩ ❛ I felt something loosen in me, that shouldn't have loosened. A stitch come undone. ❜ ❨576❩ ❛ Everyone who keeps a secret, itches to tell it. ❜ ❨577❩ ❛ Coffee goes great with sudden death. ❜ ❨578❩ ❛ I should just listen to my gut and then do the opposite. ❜ ❨579❩ ❛ “Smile, it can't be that bad!” Yeah, actually, it can, jackwad. ❜ ❨580❩ ❛ Everything bad in the world already did happen. ❜ ❨581❩ ❛ You’re going to find peace? Like knowing is somehow going to fix you? ❜ ❨582❩ ❛ Instead of asking yourself what happened, just accept that it happened. ❜ ❨583❩ ❛ Homesick for a place I've never been. ❜ ❨584❩ ❛ Worries find you easily enough without inviting them. ❜ ❨585❩ ❛ It is always consoling to think of suicide. It's what gets one through many a bad night. ❜ ❨586❩ ❛ Do you understand this is serious? ❜ ❨587❩ ❛ Sometimes it feels good to fuck with something. Instead of always being fucked with. ❜ ❨588❩ ❛ How could you kill something you cared enough to name? ❜ ❨589❩ ❛ Draw a picture of my soul, and it’d be a scribble with fangs. ❜ ❨590❩ ❛ We have the same chemicals in our blood: shame, anger, greed. Unjustified nostalgia. ❜ ❨591❩ ❛ I appreciate a straightforward apology the way a tone-deaf person enjoys a fine piece of music. ❜ ❨592❩ ❛ The phrase fuck you may not rest on the tip of my tongue, but it’s near. Midtongue. ❜ ❨593❩ ❛ Nothing to it but to do it. ❜ ❨594❩ ❛ There are a lot of people who deserve a lesson, deserve to really understand, that nothing comes easy, that most things are going to go sour. ❜ ❨595❩ ❛ If ifs and buts were candies and nuts we’d all have a very Merry Christmas. ❜ ❨596❩ ❛ Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change. ❜ ❨597❩ ❛ What does it do to a girl who knows her mother is a murderer? ❜ ❨598❩ ❛ That mean old bitch across the street bit it. ❜ ❨599❩ ❛ Survival is a talent. ❜ ❨600❩ ❛ Crazy isn't being broken or swallowing a dark secret. It’s you or me amplified. If you ever told a lie and enjoyed it. If you ever wished you could be a child forever. ❜ ❨601❩ ❛ Who has the courage to burn themselves? ❜ ❨602❩ ❛ Is insanity just a matter of dropping the act? ❜ ❨603❩ ❛ Have you ever confused a dream with life? Or stolen something when you have the cash? Have you ever been blue? Or thought your train moving while sitting still? ❜ ❨604❩ ❛ You need to be well fed, clothed, and housed to have time for this much self-pity. ❜ ❨605❩ ❛ When I am supposed to be awake, I am asleep; when I am supposed to speak, I am silent. When a pleasure offers itself to me, I avoid it. ❜ ❨606❩ ❛ There is thought, and then there is thinking about thoughts, and they don't feel the same. ❜ ❨607❩ ❛ In a strange way we are free. We've reached the end of the line. We have nothing more to lose. ❜ ❨608❩ ❛ The world won’t stop because we aren’t in it anymore. ❜ ❨609❩ ❛ I can't answer the real question. All I can tell you is, it's easy. ❜ ❨610❩ ❛ I am lighter, airier than I’ve been in years. ❜ ❨611❩ ❛ I am not dead, yet something in me definitely is. ❜ ❨612❩ ❛ You meant that as an insult but I am taking it as a compliment. ❜ ❨613❩ ❛ What life can recover from that? ❜ ❨614❩ ❛ It's a fairly accurate portrait of me. It's accurate but it isn't profound. ❜ ❨615❩ ❛ Pull yourself together! There's nothing wrong with you. ❜ ❨616❩ ❛ It's quiet. It's like― I don't know. It's like falling off a cliff. ❜ ❨617❩ ❛ Once you start parsing a face, it's a peculiar item: squishy, pointy, with lots of air vents and wet spots. ❜ ❨618❩ ❛ I lost him. I did it on purpose. ❜ ❨619❩ ❛ It’s a mean world. There’s nobody to take care of you out there. ❜ ❨620❩ ❛ Reality is getting too dense. ❜ ❨621❩ ❛ I'm ambivalent. In fact that's my new favourite word. ❜ ❨622❩ ❛ I can't come up with reassuring answers to the terrible questions you raise. ❜ ❨623❩ ❛ A spring day, the sort that gives people hope: all soft winds and delicate smells of warm earth. Suicide weather. ❜ ❨624❩ ❛ Twenty-five chocolate chip cookies would be the perfect dinner. ❜ ❨625❩ ❛ A thought is a hard thing to control. ❜ ❨626❩ ❛ Life demands skills I don’t have. ❜ ❨627❩ ❛ Light like this does not exist, but we wish it did. We wish the sun could make us young and beautiful. Most of all, we wish that everyone we knew could be brightened simply by our looking at them. ❜ ❨628❩ ❛ It never stops, even at night, it’s my lullaby. ❜ ❨629❩ ❛ Love blurs your vision; but after it recedes, you can see more clearly than ever. ❜ ❨630❩ ❛ This is the kind of thing you see if you sit in the darkness with open eyes. ❜ ❨631❩ ❛ I have done something wrong, something so huge I can't even see it, something that's drowning me. ❜ ❨632❩ ❛ Whatever is happening to me is my own fault. ❜ ❨633❩ ❛ Hatred is easier. Hatred is clear, metallic, one-handed, unwavering; unlike love. ❜ ❨634❩ ❛ Potential has a shelf life. ❜ ❨635❩ ❛ Don’t move. Stay like that, let me have that. ❜ ❨636❩ ❛ I have come to the edge, of the land. I could get pushed over. ❜ ❨637❩ ❛ Never pray for justice, because you might get some. ❜ ❨638❩ ❛ It disturbs me to learn I have hurt someone unintentionally. I want all my hurts to be intentional. ❜ ❨639❩ ❛ We have been shark to one another, but also lifeboat. That counts for something. ❜ ❨640❩ ❛ This is what I miss, not something that’s gone, but something that will never happen. ❜ ❨641❩ ❛ I am not good. I know too much to be good. I know myself. I know myself to be vengeful, greedy, secretive and sly. ❜ ❨642❩ ❛ You are amazing. Amazing and agonising and almost lethal. ❜ ❨643❩ ❛ In my dreams of this city I am always lost. ❜ ❨644❩ ❛ I don't know where these feelings have come from, I don’t know what I've done. ❜ ❨645❩ ❛ I am not the centre of your story, you are.  ❜ ❨646❩ ❛ I’m mad because you’re an asshole. ❜ ❨647❩ ❛ It's enormously pleasing to me, walking away. It's like being able to make people appear and vanish, at will. ❜ ❨648❩ ❛ There is never only one of anyone. ❜ ❨649❩ ❛ I can't do this without feeling I'm acting. ❜ ❨650❩ ❛ I am prepared for almost anything; except absence, except silence. ❜ ❨651❩ ❛ I’m losing my appetite for strangers. ❜ ❨652❩ ❛ You wear your cravings on the outside, like the suckers on a squid. You want it all. ❜ ❨653❩ ❛ Knowing too much about other people weakens you. You are forced to understand their reasons for doing things. ❜ ❨654❩ ❛ I have lost confidence: perhaps all I will ever be is what I am now. ❜ ❨655❩ ❛ Echoes of light, shining out of the midst of nothing. It's old light, and there's not much of it. But it's enough to see by. ❜ ❨656❩ ❛ Whoever cares the most will lose. ❜ ❨657❩ ❛ Young women need unfairness, it’s one of their few defences.  ❜ ❨658❩ ❛ Time has gone on without you. ❜ ❨659❩ ❛ Don't let the bastards grind you down. ❜ ❨660❩ ❛ Who can remember pain, once it’s over? Pain marks you, but too deep to see. Out of sight, out of mind. ❜ ❨661❩ ❛ Better never means better for everyone. It always means worse, for some. ❜ ❨662❩ ❛ There is more than one kind of freedom. Freedom to and freedom from. ❜ ❨663❩ ❛ Remember that forgiveness too is a power. ❜ ❨664❩ ❛ I am not your justification for existence. ❜ ❨665❩ ❛ I want to be valued, in ways that I am not; I want to be more than valuable. ❜ ❨666❩ ❛ If it's a story I'm telling, then I have control over the ending. ❜ ❨667❩ ❛ All you have to do is keep your mouth shut and look stupid. It shouldn't be that hard. ❜ ❨668❩ ❛ Truly amazing, what people can get used to, as long as there are a few compensations. ❜ ❨669❩ ❛ I want everything back, the way it was. ❜ ❨670❩ ❛ You can't help what you feel, but you can help how you behave. ❜ ❨671❩ ❛ Nothing changes instantaneously: in a gradually heating bathtub you'd be boiled to death before you knew it. ❜ ❨672❩ ❛ To want is to have a weakness. ❜ ❨673❩ ❛ There isn't even an enemy you could put your finger on. ❜ ❨674❩ ❛ The past is a great darkness, filled with echoes. ❜ ❨675❩ ❛ Ordinary is what you are used to. This may not seem ordinary to you now, but after a time it will. It will become ordinary. ❜ ❨676❩ ❛ I wish this story were different. I wish it were more civilised. I wish it showed me in a better light. ❜ ❨677❩ ❛ The night is mine, my own time, to do with it as I will, as long as I am quiet. As long as I don't move. As long as I lie still. ❜ ❨678❩ ❛ By telling you anything at all I'm at least believing in you. ❜ ❨679❩ ❛ Whatever is silenced will clamour to be heard. ❜ ❨680❩ ❛ Don't worry about forgiving me right now. There are more important things. ❜ ❨681❩ ❛ Keep the others safe. Don't let them suffer too much. If they have to die, let it be fast. ❜ ❨682❩ ❛ The body is so easily damaged, so easily disposed of, water and chemicals is all it is, hardly more to it than a jellyfish, drying on sand. ❜ ❨683❩ ❛ The world is full of weapons if you're looking for them. ❜ ❨684❩ ❛ Nobody's heart is perfect. ❜ ❨685❩ ❛ One false move and I'm dead. ❜ ❨686❩ ❛ Watch out. I've got my eye on you. ❜ ❨687❩ ❛ Fear is a powerful stimulant. ❜ ❨688❩ ❛ I couldn't afford to lose you. ❜ ❨689❩ ❛ Name one hero who was happy. ---- You can’t. ❜ ❨690❩ ❛ I feel like I could eat the world raw. ❜ ❨691❩ ❛ We are like gods at the dawning of the world. ❜ ❨692❩ ❛ I could recognise him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world. ❜ ❨693❩ ❛ There are no bargains between lion and men. I will kill you and eat you raw. ❜ ❨694❩ ❛ You can use a spear as a walking stick, but that will not change its nature. ❜ ❨695❩ ❛ He is a weapon, a killer. Do not forget it. ❜ ❨696❩ ❛ Some men gain glory after they die, others fade. ❜ ❨697❩ ❛ I am made of memories. ❜ ❨698❩ ❛ Will you come with me? ❜ ❨699❩ ❛ I wish I had let you all die. ❜ ❨700❩ ❛ It is right to seek peace for the dead. You and I both know there is no peace for those who live after. ❜ ❨701❩ ❛ Bury us. Let us be free. ❜ ❨702❩ ❛ Go. He waits for you. ❜ ❨703❩ ❛ Nothing could eclipse the stain of this dirty, mortal mediocrity. ❜ ❨704❩ ❛ I know I have told you of this. ❜ ❨705❩ ❛ I don't know how you remember them all. I swear they look the same to me. ❜ ❨706❩ ❛ Perhaps you should get some new stories, so I don’t fucking kill myself of boredom. ❜ ❨707❩ ❛ I yearn for the darkness and silence of the underworld, where I can rest. ❜ ❨708❩ ❛ There is no honour in betraying your friends. ❜ ❨709❩ ❛ There is no answer. Whichever you choose, you are wrong. ❜ ❨710❩ ❛ Divine blood flows differently. ❜ ❨711❩ ❛ How is there glory in taking life? We die so easily. ❜ ❨712❩ ❛ This is what I will miss, I think. I will kill myself rather than miss it. ❜ ❨713❩ ❛ How long do we have? ❜ ❨714❩ ❛ Do you think we fight hopeless wars? ❜ ❨715❩ ❛ There is no law that gods must be fair. ❜ ❨716❩ ❛ I do not fear ridicule. I never have. ❜ ❨717❩ ❛ You were always better with words than I. ❜ ❨718❩ ❛ Who can be ashamed to lose to such beauty? ❜ ❨719❩ ❛ When you see beauty in desolation it changes something inside you. ❜ ❨720❩ ❛ That's how the madness of the world tries to colonise you: from the outside in, forcing you to live in its reality. ❜ ❨721❩ ❛ The shadows of the abyss are like the petals of a monstrous flower that shall blossom within the skull and expand the mind beyond what any man can bear. ❜ ❨722❩ ❛ Silence creates violence. ❜ ❨723❩ ❛ Some questions will ruin you if you are denied the answer long enough. ❜ ❨724❩ ❛ There are certain kinds of connections that are so deep that when broken you feel the snap of it inside you. ❜ ❨725❩ ❛ Nothing that ever lived and breathed was truly objective—even in a vacuum, even if all that possessed the brain was a self-immolating desire for the truth. ❜ ❨726❩ ❛ We all live in a kind of continuous dream. ❜ ❨727❩ ❛ You can either waste time worrying about a death that might not come or concentrate on what’s left to you. ❜ ❨728❩ ❛ What can you do when your five senses are not enough? ❜ ❨729❩ ❛ We will neither be what we had been nor what we would become once we reach our destination. ❜ ❨730❩ ❛ Perhaps my only real expertise, my only talent, is to endure beyond the endurable. ❜ ❨731❩ ❛ When you are too close to the centre of a mystery there is no way to pull back. ❜ ❨732❩ ❛ I long ago stopped believing in promises. Biological imperatives, yes. Environmental factors, yes. Promises, no. ❜ ❨733❩ ❛ I look not for shooting stars but for fixed ones, and I try to imagine what kind of life lives in those celestial tidal pools so far from us. ❜ ❨734❩ ❛ I hesitated for just a moment. Some part of me wanted to see the creature, I think. If so, it was a very small part. I ran. ❜ ❨735❩ ❛ I don’t require any of this to have a deeper meaning. ❜ ❨736❩ ❛ All of this speculation is incomplete, inexact, inaccurate, useless. ❜ ❨737❩ ❛ We don’t have real answers, because we still don’t know what questions to ask. Our instruments are useless, our methodology broken, our motivations selfish. ❜ ❨738❩ ❛ This part I will do alone. Don’t follow. ❜ ❨739❩ ❛ People my entire life have told me I am too much in control, but that has never been the case. I have never truly been in control. ❜ ❨740❩ ❛ Has there always been someone like me to bury the bodies, to have regrets, to carry on after everyone else was dead? ❜ ❨741❩ ❛ I loved them, but I didn’t need them, and I thought that was the way it was supposed to be. ❜ ❨742❩ ❛ Places can impress themselves upon me, and I can become part of them with ease. ❜ ❨743❩ ❛ There is no one with me. I am all by myself. ❜ ❨744❩ ❛ Pretending often leads to becoming a reasonable facsimile of what you mimic. ❜ ❨745❩ ❛ I think you're confusing suicide with self-destruction, and they're very different. Almost none of us commit suicide, whereas almost all of us self-destruct. ❜ ❨746❩ ❛ What did you eat? You had rations for only two weeks. You were there for nearly four months. ❜ ❨747❩ ❛ Something here is making giant waves in the gene pool. ❜ ❨748❩ ❛ I need to know what’s inside. ❜ ❨749❩ ❛ These aren't decisions. They're impulses ❜ ❨750❩ ❛ What do you think I do when you’re away? Do you think I’m out in the garden pinning, looking up at the sky? ❜ ❨751❩ ❛ If I know what’s happened I can save their life. ❜ ❨752❩ ❛ They either went crazy or something in here killed them. ❜ ❨753❩ ❛ Something is coming through the fence! ❜ ❨754❩ ❛ Nothing is written in the stars. Not these stars, nor any others. No one controls your destiny. ❜ ❨755❩ ❛ People who claim that they're evil are usually no worse than the rest of us. ❜ ❨756❩ ❛ Happy endings are still endings. ❜ ❨757❩ ❛ We believe in all sorts of things that aren't true; -- we call it history. ❜ ❨758❩ ❛ Does the devil ever struggle to be good again, or if so is he not a devil? ❜ ❨759❩ ❛ In the lives of children, pumpkins turn into coaches, mice and rats turn into men. When we grow up, we realise it is far more common for men to turn into rats. ❜ ❨760❩ ❛ Girls need cold anger. They need the cold simmer, the ceaseless grudge, the talent to avoid forgiveness, the side stepping of compromise.  ❜ ❨761❩ ❛ Love makes hunters of us all. ❜ ❨762❩ ❛ There is much to hate in this world and way too much to love. ❜ ❨763❩ ❛ You confuse not speaking with not listening. ❜ ❨764❩ ❛ As long as people are going to call you a lunatic anyway, why not get the benefit of it? It liberates you from convention. ❜ ❨765❩ ❛ The eye is always caught by light, but shadows have more to say. ❜ ❨766❩ ❛ Not everyone is born a witch or a saint. Not everyone is born talented, or crooked, or blessed; some are born definite in no particular at all. ❜ ❨767❩ ❛ We are a fountain of shimmering contradictions, most of us. ❜ ❨768❩ ❛ The wickedness of men is that their power breeds stupidity and blindness. ❜ ❨769❩ ❛ I know you don't want to hear this but someone has to say it! You are out of control! ❜ ❨770❩ ❛ Even at the very worst - there is always choice. ❜ ❨771❩ ❛ Maybe the definition of home is the place where you are never forgiven. So you may always belong there, bound by guilt. And maybe the cost of belonging is worth it. ❜ ❨772❩ ❛ Cross a man and you struggle, one of you wins, you adjust and go on -- or you lie there dead. Cross a woman and the entire universe is changed. ❜ ❨773❩ ❛ That was such a wonderful time, even in its strangeness and sadness. Life isn't the same now. It's wonderful, but it isn't the same. ❜ ❨774❩ ❛ I don't care for approval, and I don't mind doing without. ❜ ❨775❩ ❛ It's where I live. A permanent state of bereavement. This is nothing new. ❜ ❨776❩ ❛ Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. Always the godfather, never the god. ❜ ❨777❩ ❛ The world unwraps itself to you, again and again as soon as you are ready to see it anew. ❜ ❨778❩ ❛ Evil is an act, not an appetite. Everyone has the appetite. If you give in to it, that act is evil. The appetite is normal. ❜ ❨779❩ ❛ How many haven't wanted to slash the throat of some boor across the dining room table?  ❜ ❨780❩ ❛ Even God used silence as a strategy. ❜ ❨781❩ ❛ I learned failure early and mastered it. ❜ ❨782❩ ❛ It isn't whether you do it well or ill, it's that you do it all. ❜ ❨783❩ ❛ This is why you shouldn't fall in love, it blinds you. Love is a very wicked distraction. ❜ ❨784❩ ❛ Wisdom is not the understanding of mystery. Wisdom is accepting that mystery is beyond understanding. That's what makes it mystery. ❜ ❨785❩ ❛ Wrong takes an awful long time to be proven, in my experience. ❜ ❨786❩ ❛ Such brightness, as you know, decays brilliantly. ❜ ❨787❩ ❛ I take responsibility only for the future, not the past. The past can't hurt you the way the future can. ❜ ❨788❩ ❛ Tell me to mind my own business, tell me to go fuck myself, to piss off, go on, say it, but don’t tell me nothing’s wrong. ❜ ❨789❩ ❛ The truth isn't a thing of fact or reason. It is simply what everyone agrees on. ❜ ❨790❩ ❛ One can't make peace with another by force. ❜ ❨791❩ ❛ I am a forgettable leaf on a tree. ❜ ❨792❩ ❛ That's all I want; --- to do no harm. ❜ ❨793❩ ❛ I only believe in the opposite of luck, whatever that is. ❜ ❨794❩ ❛ Human beings are not born once and for all on the day their mothers give birth to them, life obliges them over and over again to give birth to themselves. ❜ ❨795❩ ❛ You’re too young to know that the heart's memory eliminates the bad and magnifies the good, and thanks to that we manage to endure the burden of the past. ❜ ❨796❩ ❛ Love, no matter what else it might be, is a natural talent. You are either born knowing how, or you never know. ❜ ❨797❩ ❛ Whatever you do, you will be sorry all the rest of your life. ❜ ❨798❩ ❛ There is no God worth worrying about. ❜ ❨799❩ ❛ The only regret I will have in dying is if it is not for love. ❜ ❨800❩ ❛ Wisdom comes to us when it can no longer do any good. ❜ ❨801❩ ❛ Think of love as a state of grace, not the means to anything, but the very end in itself. ❜ ❨802❩ ❛ Only God knows how much I love you. ❜ ❨803❩ ❛ There is no greater glory than to die for love. ❜ ❨804❩ ❛ Nothing resembles a person as much as the way he dies. ❜ ❨805❩ ❛ Take advantage of it now, while you are young, and suffer all you can, because these things don't last your whole life. ❜ ❨806❩ ❛ Today, when I saw you, I realised that what is between us is nothing more than an illusion. ❜ ❨807❩ ❛ I have waited for this opportunity for more than half a century. ❜ ❨808❩ ❛ I want to be myself again, to recover all that I was obliged to give up. ❜ ❨809❩ ❛ The only thing worse than bad health is a bad name. ❜ ❨810❩ ❛ This soup tastes like windows. ❜ ❨811❩ ❛ Why do you insist on talking about what does not exist? ❜ ❨812❩ ❛ One has to live a long time to know a man's true nature. ❜ ❨813❩ ❛ No, not rich, I am a poor man with money, which is not the same thing. ❜ ❨814❩ ❛ My heart has more rooms than a whorehouse. ❜ ❨815❩ ❛ That may be the reason he does so many things, so that he will not have to think. ❜ ❨816❩ ❛ Love if it exists, is something separate: another life. ❜ ❨817❩ ❛ Things did not go as badly for me as they would for you. ❜ ❨818❩ ❛ There are things you do only for love. ❜ ❨819❩ ❛ I’ll have plenty of time to rest when I die. ❜ ❨820❩ ❛ There is no innocence more dangerous than the innocence of age. ❜ ❨821❩ ❛ You treat me as if I were just anybody. ❜ ❨822❩ ❛ The symptoms of love are the same as those of cholera. ❜ ❨823❩ ❛ There is no law, human or divine, that you have not ignored. ❜ ❨824❩ ❛ Why is it that I feel I've known you so many years? ❜ ❨825❩ ❛ Stuff your eyes with wonder, live as if you'd drop dead in ten seconds. See the world. It's more fantastic than any dream made or paid for in factories. ❜ ❨826❩ ❛ It doesn't matter what you do, so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that's like you after you take your hands away. ❜ ❨827❩ ❛ We need to be really bothered once in a while. How long is it since you were really bothered? About something important, about something real? ❜ ❨828❩ ❛ There must be something, something we can’t imagine, to make a woman stay in a burning house; there must be something there. You don’t stay for nothing. ❜ ❨829❩ ❛ If you hide your ignorance, no one will hit you and you'll never learn. ❜ ❨830❩ ❛ If you drown, at least die knowing you were heading for shore. ❜ ❨831❩ ❛ You can't make people listen. They have to come round in their own time, wondering what happened and why the world blew up around them. ❜ ❨832❩ ❛ It was a pleasure to burn. ❜ ❨833❩ ❛ I'm antisocial, they say. I don't mix. It's so strange. I'm very social indeed. It all depends on what you mean by social, doesn't it? ❜ ❨834❩ ❛ Being with people is nice. But I don't think it's social to get a bunch of people together and then not let them talk, do you? ❜ ❨835❩ ❛ Do you notice how people hurt each other nowadays? ❜ ❨836❩ ❛ Who knows who might be the target of the well-read man? ❜ ❨837❩ ❛ I don't talk things. I talk the meaning of things. ❜ ❨838❩ ❛ I'll hold on to the world tight some day. I've got one finger on it now; that's a beginning. ❜ ❨839❩ ❛ I just want someone to hear what I have to say. And maybe if I talk long enough it'll make sense. ❜ ❨840❩ ❛ That's the good part of dying; when you've nothing to lose, you run any risk you want. ❜ ❨841❩ ❛ Someday we'll build the biggest goddamn steamshovel in history and dig the biggest grave of all time and shove war in it and cover it up. ❜ ❨842❩ ❛ You're not like the others. I've seen a few; I know. When I talk, you look at me. ❜ ❨843❩ ❛ You're afraid of making mistakes. Don't be. Mistakes can be profited by. ❜ ❨844❩ ❛ When they give you lined paper, write the other way. ❜ ❨845❩ ❛ The sun burnt every day. It burnt time. ❜ ❨846❩ ❛ We have everything we need to be happy but we aren't happy. Something is missing. ❜ ❨847❩ ❛ I feel I'm doing what I should've done a lifetime ago. ❜ ❨848❩ ❛ I'm not afraid. Maybe it's because I'm doing the right thing at last. Maybe it's because I've done a rash thing and don't want to look the coward to you. ❜ ❨849❩ ❛ Good God, who were those men? I never saw them before in my life! ❜ ❨850❩ ❛ How do you get so empty? Who takes it out of you? ❜ ❨851❩ ❛ It must be right. It seems so right. ❜ ❨852❩ ❛ To everything there is a season. Yes. A time to break down, and a time to build up. A time to keep silence and a time to speak. ❜ ❨853❩ ❛ It's my game. And no one can help me. Not even you. ❜ ❨854❩ ❛ What makes earth feel like hell is our expectation that it should feel like heaven. Earth is earth. Dead is dead. You’ll find out for yourself soon enough. ❜ ❨855❩ ❛ Death is a long process. Your body is just the first part of you that croaks. Beyond that, your dreams have to die. Then your expectations. Your anger and memories must die. Your ego. Your pride and shame and ambition and hope. ❜ ❨856❩ ❛ Help me give up my addiction to hope. ❜ ❨857❩ ❛ Life is short, death is forever. ❜ ❨858❩ ❛ Hope is something really tough and tenacious you have to give up. It’s an addiction to break. ❜ ❨859❩ ❛ If the living are haunted by the dead, then the dead are haunted by their own mistakes. ❜ ❨860❩ ❛ We all wish to be pursued. We all long to be desired. ❜ ❨861❩ ❛ All the demons of hell formerly reigned as gods in previous cultures. No it's not fair, but one man's god is another man's devil. ❜ ❨862❩ ❛ I can become someone else, not out of pressure and desperation, but merely because a new life sounds fun or interesting or joyful. ❜ ❨863❩ ❛ It's my petty fear of personal rejection that allows so many true evils to exist. My cowardice enables atrocities. ❜ ❨864❩ ❛ You fucked up. Game over. So just relax. ❜ ❨865❩ ❛ The greatest weapon any warrior can carry into battle is absolute certainty of her eternal soul. ❜ ❨866❩ ❛ If killing you will end my existence as well, be it. Small loss. Such a life, as your puppet, is not worth living. ❜ ❨867❩ ❛ I might be a touch of a sadist and a little bit jejune but at least I'm not a victim, not any longer. I hope. ❜ ❨868❩ ❛ Dying seems like the greatest weakness, and in a world where people say you're lazy for not shaving your legs, then being dead seems like the ultimate character flaw. ❜ ❨869❩ ❛ Any concept of right versus wrong, is merely a cultural construct relative to one specific time and place. ❜ ❨870❩ ❛ To prove that I exist I must kill you. ❜ ❨871❩ ❛ I'd say that my life has been a way-too-long case history of chasing rainbows. ❜ ❨872❩ ❛ The world is a battle for attention, a war to be heard. ❜ ❨873❩ ❛ Every garden looks beautiful in May. ❜ ❨874❩ ❛ When we neglect to fear such brittle monstrosity, we render it powerless. ❜ ❨875❩ ❛ My taste for power continues to grow, as does my ability to accrue it. ❜ ❨876❩ ❛ Such language! Why don't you just take a dump in my ears? ❜ ❨877❩ ❛ You’d be foolish to count on people displaying high standards of honesty. ❜ ❨878❩ ❛ Depending on her mood, she can be more frightening than any demon or devil you might ever run across. ❜ ❨879❩ ❛ Cross your fingers! Maybe death won't happen to you. ❜ ❨880❩ ❛ Do not die while wearing cheap shoes. ❜ ❨881❩ ❛ Old habits die hard. ❜ ❨882❩ ❛ It's our attachments to a fixed identity that torture us. ❜ ❨883❩ ❛ What do I think I am? In a thousand words; I don't have a clue. ❨884❩ ❛ If I am to be saved it is because your love redeems me. ❜ ❨885❩ ❛ All I wanted was to be loved for myself. ❜ ❨886❩ ❛ I have tasted all the happiness the world can offer. ❜ ❨887❩ ❛ Shall we pity him? Shall we curse him? ❜ ❨888❩ ❛ You have a heart that can hold the entire empire of the world. ❜ ❨889❩ ❛ Look, I am not laughing now, crying, crying for you. ❜ ❨890❩ ❛ Tonight I gave you my soul, and I am dead. ❜ ❨891❩ ❛ You are afraid of me! And yet I am not really wicked. Love me and you shall see! ❜ ❨892❩ ❛ Are people so unhappy when they love? --- Yes, when they love and are not sure of being loved. ❜ ❨893❩ ❛ Your soul is a beautiful thing. No emperor received so fair a gift. The angels wept tonight. ❜ ❨894❩ ❛ Blood!...Blood!... That's a good thing! ❜ ❨895❩ ❛ Now I want to live like everybody else. I want to have a life like everybody else. ❜ ❨896❩ ❛ You will be the happiest of women. And we will sing, all by ourselves, till we swoon away with delight. ❜ ❨897❩ ❛ I should be as gentle as a lamb; and you could do anything with me that you pleased. ❜ ❨898❩ ❛ I am going to die of love, I am dying of love. That's how it is. I loved you so. I still love you so. ❜ ❨899❩ ❛ I am dying of love for her, I tell you! If only you knew how beautiful she was when she let me kiss her. ❜ ❨900❩ ❛ He fills me with horror but I do not hate him. How can I hate him? ❜ ❨901❩ ❛ Holy angel, in Heaven blessed, my spirit longs with thee to rest. ❜ ❨902❩ ❛ Nothing is colder or more dead than my heart. ❜ ❨903❩ ❛ I had loved an angel and now I despise a woman. ❜ ❨904❩ ❛ Our lives are one masked ball. ❜ ❨905❩ ❛ Why do you condemn a man whom you have never met, whom no one knows and about whom even you yourself know nothing? ❜ ❨906❩ ❛ He would commit murder for me. ❜ ❨907❩ ❛ If I don't save her from the hands of that humbug, she is lost. But I shall save her. ❜ ❨908❩ ❛ We will go from here together or die together. ❜ ❨909❩ ❛ Your fear, your terror, all of that is just love and love of the most exquisite kind, the kind which people do not admit even to themselves. The kind that gives you a thrill, when you think of it. ❜ ❨910❩ ❛ Destiny has chained you to me forever. ❜ ❨911❩ ❛ You must never ask me that. ❜ ❨912❩ ❛ Are you afraid that you will change your mind? ❜ ❨913❩ ❛ You must come and fetch me in my dressing room at midnight exactly. ❜ ❨914❩ ❛ The holes in your life are permanent. You have to grow around them, like tree roots around concrete; you mould yourself through the gaps. ❜ ❨915❩ ❛ I have never understood how people can blithely disregard the damage they do by following their hearts. ❜ ❨916❩ ❛ There’s something comforting about the sight of strangers safe at home. ❜ ❨917❩ ❛ I have lost control over everything, even the places in my head. ❜ ❨918❩ ❛ It’s possible to miss what you’ve never had, to even mourn for it. ❜ ❨919❩ ❛ There’s nothing so painful, so corrosive, as suspicion. ❜ ❨920❩ ❛ When did you become so weak? ❜ ❨921❩ ❛ I don’t know where that strength went, I don’t remember losing it. I think that over time it got chipped away, bit by bit, by life, by the living of it. ❜ ❨922❩ ❛ Let’s be honest: women are still only really valued for two things—their looks and their role as mothers. ❜ ❨923❩ ❛ Sadness gets boring after a while, for the sad person and for everyone around them. ❜ ❨924❩ ❛ I’m playing at real life instead of actually living it. ❜ ❨925❩ ❛ I’ve just got to let myself feel the pain, because if I don’t, if I keep numbing it, it’ll never really go away. ❜ ❨926❩ ❛ I am not the girl I used to be. I am no longer desirable, I’m off-putting in some way. It’s as if people can see the damage written all over me, can see it in my face, the way I hold myself, the way I move. ❜ ❨927❩ ❛ Who was it that said following your heart is a good thing? It is pure egotism, a selfishness to conquer all. ❜ ❨928❩ ❛ It’s impossible to resist the kindness of strangers. ❜ ❨929❩ ❛ Sometimes I catch myself trying to remember the last time I had meaningful physical contact with another person, just a hug or a heartfelt squeeze of my hand, and my heart twitches. ❜ ❨930❩ ❛ I have to find a way of making myself happy, I have to stop looking for happiness elsewhere. ❜ ❨931❩ ❛ How did I find myself here? I wonder where it started, my decline; I wonder at what point I could have halted it. Where did I take the wrong turn? ❜ ❨932❩ ❛ Now look -- Now look what you made me do. ❜ ❨933❩ ❛ It’s okay, whatever you did, whatever you’ve done: you suffered, you hurt, you deserve forgiveness. ❜ ❨934❩ ❛ They’re what I lost, they’re everything I want to be. ❜ ❨935❩ ❛ You broke me and I broke us. ❜ ❨936❩ ❛ I’ve been the fool. If he does it with you, he’ll do it to you. ❜ ❨937❩ ❛ I’d never realised, not until now, how shameful it is to be pitied. ❜ ❨938❩ ❛ Sometimes, I don’t want to go anywhere, I think I’ll be happy if I never have to set foot outside the house again. ❜ ❨939❩ ❛ I don’t believe in soul mates, but there’s an understanding between us that I just haven’t felt before, or at least, not for a long time. ❜ ❨940❩ ❛ There can be no greater agony, nothing can be more painful than the not knowing, which will never end. ❜ ❨941❩ ❛ Being the other woman is a huge turn-on, there’s no point in denying it: you’re the one he can’t help but betray his wife for, even though he loves her. That’s just how irresistible you are. ❜ ❨942❩ ❛ I feel a rush of gratitude so strong, it feels almost like love. ❜ ❨943❩ ❛ You don’t know how determined I can be. Once I’ve made my mind up, I’m a force to be reckoned with. ❜ ❨944❩ ❛ The more I want to be oblivious, the less I can be. Life and light will not let me be. ❜ ❨945❩ ❛ You don’t have to be afraid of being alone. It’s not the worst thing, is it? ❜ ❨946❩ ❛ I have felt this way before. On a larger scale, to a more intense degree, of course, but I remember the quality of the pain. You don’t forget it. ❜ ❨947❩ ❛ If he thinks I’m going to sit around crying, he’s got another thing coming. ❜ ❨948❩ ❛ I don’t like to lose. It’s not like me. None of this is like me. I don’t get rejected. I’m the one who walks away. ❜ ❨949❩ ❛ I don’t remember anger, raging fury. I remember fear. ❜ ❨950❩ ❛ I can’t sleep. I haven’t slept in days. I hate it, hate insomnia more than anything, just lying there, brain going round, tick, tick, tick, tick. ❜ ❨951❩ ❛ Maybe the courage I need has nothing to do with telling the truth and everything to do with walking away. ❜ ❨952❩ ❛ I’m not beautiful, and I can’t have kids, so what does that make me? Worthless. ❜ ❨953❩ ❛ Failure cloaked me like a mantle, it overwhelmed me, dragged me under and I gave up hope. ❜ ❨954❩ ❛ It’s an odd thing to say, but I think this all the time; I don’t feel bad enough. ❜ ❨955❩ ❛ Some battles aren’t worth fighting. ❜ ❨956❩ ❛ I never felt guilty. I pretended I did. I had to. ❜ ❨957❩ ❛ I never meant for any of this to happen, we fell in love, what could we do? ❜ ❨958❩ ❛ What bothers me most is that I haven’t got to the end of my story, and I can’t start over with someone else, it’s too hard. ❜ ❨959❩ ❛ A person is, among all else, a material thing, easily torn and not easily mended. ❜ ❨960❩ ❛ It isn’t only wickedness and scheming that make people unhappy, it is confusion and misunderstanding. ❜ ❨961❩ ❛ Falling in love can be achieved in a single word—a glance. ❜ ❨962❩ ❛ Though you think the world is at your feet, it can rise up and tread on you. ❜ ❨963❩ ❛ I’ve never had a moment’s doubt. I love you. I believe in you completely. You are my dearest one. My reason for life. ❜ ❨964❩ ❛ It might hurt, it is horribly inconvenient, no good might come of it, but it is what it is to be in love. ❜ ❨965❩ ❛ It was always an impossible task, and that was precisely the point. ❜ ❨966❩ ❛ Come back, come back to me. ❜ ❨967❩ ❛ In my thoughts I make love to you all day long. ❜ ❨968❩ ❛ The truth is I feel rather light headed and foolish in your presence and I don’t think I can blame the heat. ❜ ❨969❩ ❛ Beauty occupies a narrow band. Ugliness, on the other hand, has infinite variation. ❜ ❨970❩ ❛ Is there any meaning in my life that the inevitable death awaiting me does not destroy? ❜ ❨971❩ ❛ However, withered, I still feel myself to be exactly the same person I’ve always been. ❜ ❨972❩ ❛ Hate is a feeling as pure as love, but dispassionate and icily rational. ❜ ❨973❩ ❛ I’m going mad. Let me not be mad. ❜ ❨974❩ ❛ Is everyone really as alive as I am? ❜ ❨975❩ ❛ Every now and then, quite unintentionally, someone teaches you something about yourself. ❜ ❨976❩ ❛ Something has happened, hasn’t it? ❜ ❨977❩ ❛ I like to think that it isn’t weakness or evasion, but a final act of kindness. ❜ ❨978❩ ❛ Is it possible that I am, in the modern term, in denial? ❜ ❨979❩ ❛ How could anyone presume to know the world through the eyes of an insect? ❜ ❨980❩ ❛ Not everything has a cause. Some things are simply so. ❜ ❨981❩ ❛ I’ll be quite honest with you. I’m torn between breaking your neck here and throwing you down the stairs. ❜ ❨982❩ ❛ How old do you have to be before you know the difference between right and wrong? ❜ ❨983❩ ❛ It was never meant to be read. ❜ ❨984❩ ❛ If I fell in the river, would you save me? ❜ ❨985❩ ❛ That was an incredibly bloody stupid thing to do. ❜ ❨986❩ ❛ I want to thank you for saving my life. I’ll be eternally grateful to you. ❜ ❨987❩ ❛ I’m very, very sorry for the terrible distress that I have caused. I’m very, very sorry. ❜ ❨988❩ ❛ Don’t call me that! – Please don’t call me that. ❜ ❨989❩ ❛ It may be the wrong decision, but fuck it, it’s mine. ❜ ❨990❩ ❛ Like patience, passion comes from the same Latin root: pati. It does not mean to flow with exuberance. It means to suffer. ❜ ❨991❩ ❛ No one ever really gets used to nightmares. ❜ ❨992❩ ❛ I still get nightmares. In fact, I get them so often I should be used to them by now. I’m not. ❜ ❨993❩ ❛ Sublime is something you choke on after a shot of tequila. ❜ ❨994❩ ❛ Some people reflect light, some deflect it, you by some miracle, seem to collect it. ❜ ❨995❩ ❛ Beautiful women are always drawn to men they think will keep them beautiful. ❜ ❨996❩ ❛ The ruminations are mine, let the world be yours. ❜ ❨997❩ ❛ You will fulfil a promise I made years ago but failed to keep. ❜ ❨998❩ ❛ Darkness never satisfies. Especially if it takes something away which it almost always invariably does. ❜ ❨999❩ ❛ I want something else. I’m not even sure what to call it anymore. ❜ ❨1000❩ ❛ What can I say, I’m a sucker for abandoned stuff, misplaced stuff, forgotten stuff, any old stuff. ❜ ❨1001❩ ❛ Is it possible to love something so much, you imagine it wants to destroy you only because it has denied you? ❜ ❨1002❩ ❛ It’s just silent, no sound at all. It’s like something’s waiting. ❜ ❨1003❩ ❛ I guess I’m hoping the weapons will make me feel better, grant me some kind of fucking control. ❜ ❨1004❩ ❛ Oh and something else: – Fuck you. ❜ ❨1005❩ ❛ God I’ve never been afraid like this. ❜ ❨1006❩ ❛ I miss you. I love you. There’s no second I’ve lived that you can’t call your own. ❜ ❨1007❩ ❛ I’m so tired. Sleep’s been stalking me for too long to remember. Inevitable I suppose. ❜ ❨1008❩ ❛ Not seeing the rip doesn’t mean you automatically get to keep clear of the Hey-I’m-Bleeding part. ❜ ❨1009❩ ❛ These days fantasies flourish and die like summer flies. ❜ ❨1010❩ ❛ Yeah I know, I know. This shit’s getting ridiculous. ❜ ❨1011❩ ❛ ‘Fuck’ and 'fall for’ have very different meanings. The first one you do as much as you can. The second one you never ever, ever do. ❜ ❨1012❩ ❛ It’s a nice idea but it reeks of hope. False hope. ❜ ❨1013❩ ❛ It’s, well…one thing in two words: fucked up…very fucked up. Okay three words, four words, who the hell cares…very very fucked up. ❜ ❨1014❩ ❛ Do you think I could spend the night at your place?  ❜ ❨1015❩ ❛ Any fool can pray. ❜ ❨1016❩ ❛ I feel like I haven’t slept in months. My neighbours are scared of me. ❜ ❨1017❩ ❛ I’ve lost my mind? Maybe, maybe, maybe. Maybe I’m just really drunk. ❜ ❨1018❩ ❛ Perhaps by cleaning out my system I’ll come to a clearing where I can ease myself into peace. ❜ ❨1019❩ ❛ I should be dead. Why am I still here? ❜ ❨1020❩ ❛ Fuck if I know. Your guess is as good as mine. ❜ ❨1021❩ ❛ You are my flesh. You are my bones. I know you too well. I read you too perfectly. ❜ ❨1022❩ ❛ Not all complex problems have easy solutions. ❜ ❨1023❩ ❛ Do you believe in God? I don’t think I ever asked you that one. ❜ ❨1024❩ ❛ We all create stories to protect ourselves. ❜ ❨1025❩ ❛ Are you kidding me? This place is scary. ❜ ❨1026❩ ❛ These days the only thing that gets me outside is when I say: Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck you. Fuck me. Fuck this. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. ❜ ❨1027❩ ❛ You like that crap because it reminds you of you. ❜ ❨1028❩ ❛ You may suddenly realise things are not how you perceived them to be at all. ❜ ❨1029❩ ❛ The two hardest tests are the patience to wait for the right moment and the courage not to be disappointed with what we encounter. ❜ ❨1030❩ ❛ People never learn anything by being told, they have to find out for themselves. ❜ ❨1031❩ ❛ Be crazy! But learn how to be crazy without being the center of attention. Be brave enough to live different. ❜ ❨1032❩ ❛ You are someone who is different, but who wants to be the same as everyone else. And that in my view is a serious illness. ❜ ❨1033❩ ❛ God chose you to be different. ❜ ❨1034❩ ❛ Why are you disappointing God with this kind of attitude? ❜ ❨1035❩ ❛ You have two choices, to control your mind or to let your mind control you. ❜ ❨1036❩ ❛ Everyone is indeed crazy, but the craziest are the ones who don't know they're crazy; they just keep repeating what others tell them to. ❜ ❨1037❩ ❛ Haven't you learned anything, not even with the approach of death?  ❜ ❨1038❩ ❛ If people don't like it, they can complain. And if they don't have the courage to complain, that's their problem. ❜ ❨1039❩ ❛ Nothing in this world happens by chance. ❜ ❨1040❩ ❛ I want to continue living my life the way I dream it, and not the way the other people want it to be. ❜ ❨1041❩ ❛ Be like the fountain that overflows, not like the cistern that merely contains. ❜ ❨1042❩ ❛ Collective madness is called sanity. ❜ ❨1043❩ ❛ Consider each day a miracle - which indeed it is, when you consider the number of unexpected things that could happen in each second of our fragile existences. ❜ ❨1044❩ ❛ You say they create their own reality, but what is reality? ❜ ❨1045❩ ❛ Many people don't allow themselves to love because there are a lot of things at risk. A lot of future and a lot of past. ❜ ❨1046❩ ❛ Death frees from the fear of dying. ❜ ❨1047❩ ❛ The danger of an adventure is worth a thousand days of ease and comfort. ❜ ❨1048❩ ❛ The happier people can be, the unhappier they are. ❜ ❨1049❩ ❛ Life is always a matter of waiting for the right moment to act. ❜ ❨1050❩ ❛ It's best to accept life as it really is and not as you imagined it to be. ❜ ❨1051❩ ❛ You don't seem mad at all. ❜ ❨1052❩ ❛ We’re allowed to make a lot of mistakes in our lives, except the mistake that destroys us. ❜ ❨1053❩ ❛ You’re what you are, not what others make of you. ❜ ❨1054❩ ❛ Am I cured? ❜ ❨1055❩ ❛ Real love changes and grows with time and discovers new ways of expressing itself. ❜ ❨1056❩ ❛ A lot of people think something is right, and so that thing becomes right. Is that it? ❜ ❨1057❩ ❛ They think they're normal, because they all do the same thing. ❜ ❨1058❩ ❛ I didn't know that other ‘me’s existed inside me, ‘Me’s that I could love. ❜ ❨1059❩ ❛ I have no idea what's awaiting me. ❜ ❨1060❩ ❛ What will happen when this all ends? ❜ ❨1061❩ ❛ I know that you are capable of great deeds. ❜ ❨1062❩ ❛ A loveless world is a dead world, and always there comes an hour when one is weary of prisons, of one's work, and of devotion to duty, and all one craves for is a loved face, the warmth and wonder of a loving heart. ❜ ❨1063❩ ❛ The truth is that everyone is bored. ❜ ❨1064❩ ❛ I feel more fellowship with the defeated than with saints. Heroism and sanctity don't really appeal to me, I imagine. ❜ ❨1065❩ ❛ If there is one thing one can always yearn for, and sometimes attain, it is human love. ❜ ❨1066❩ ❛ Who would dare to assert that eternal happiness can compensate for even a single moment's suffering? ❜ ❨1067❩ ❛ It's not easy. I've been thinking it over for years. ❜ ❨1068❩ ❛ While we loved each other we didn't need words to make ourselves understood. ❜ ❨1069❩ ❛ People are more often bad than good. ❜ ❨1070❩ ❛ I don't believe in heroism; I know it's easy and I've learned that it can be murderous. ❜ ❨1071❩ ❛ What interests me is living and dying for what one loves. ❜ ❨1072❩ ❛ In fact, nobody is capable of really thinking about anyone, even in the worst calamity. ❜ ❨1073❩ ❛ Nothing in the world is worth turning one's back on what one loves. ❜ ❨1074❩ ❛ Again and again there comes a time in history when the man who dares to say that two and two make four is punished with death. ❜ ❨1075❩ ❛ There are more things to admire in men then to despise. ❜ ❨1076❩ ❛ It is in the thick of calamity that one gets hardened to the truth - in other words, to silence. ❜ ❨1077❩ ❛ What on earth prompted you to take a hand in this? ❜ ❨1078❩ ❛ Your code of morals? What code, if I may ask? ❜ ❨1079❩ ❛ I'm fumbling in the dark, struggling to make something out. But I've long ceased finding anything. ❜ ❨1080❩ ❛ No doubt our love is still there, but quite simply it is unusable, heavy to carry, inert inside of us, sterile as crime or condemnation. ❜ ❨1081❩ ❛ I’m not happy to go, but one needn't be happy to make another start. ❜ ❨1082❩ ❛ I am incapable of suffering for a long time, or being happy for a long time. Which means that I am incapable of anything really worth while. ❜ ❨1083❩ ❛ I should have found the words to keep her with me. ❜ ❨1084❩ ❛ We can't stir a finger in this world without the risk of bringing death to somebody. ❜ ❨1085❩ ❛ The evil that is in the world comes out of ignorance, and good intentions may do as much harm as malevolence, if they lack understanding. ❜ ❨1086❩ ❛ There are always flies and itches. That’s why life is difficult to live. ❜ ❨1087❩ ❛ The best protection against anything is a good bottle of wine. ❜ ❨1088❩ ❛ There is no peace without hope. ❜ ❨1089❩ ❛ It's enough for me to be sure that you and I exist at this moment. ❜ ❨1090❩ ❛ There is always something left to love. ❜ ❨1091❩ ❛ A person doesn’t die when he should but when he can. ❜ ❨1092❩ ❛ Things have a life of their own. It's simply a matter of waking up their souls. ❜ ❨1093❩ ❛ Tell me something: why are you fighting? ❜ ❨1094❩ ❛ I've come to realise only just now that I'm fighting because of pride. ❜ ❨1095❩ ❛ One minute of reconciliation is worth more than a whole life of friendship. ❜ ❨1096❩ ❛ It's better than not knowing why you're fighting. Or fighting, like you, for something that doesn't have any meaning for anyone. ❜ ❨1097❩ ❛ Holy Mother of God! ❜ ❨1098❩ ❛ A person does not belong to a place until there is someone dead under the ground. ❜ ❨1099❩ ❛ I was born a son of a bitch and I'm going to die a son of a bitch. ❜ ❨1100❩ ❛ Bad luck doesn't have any chinks in it. ❜ ❨1101❩ ❛ I plead youth as a mitigating circumstance. ❜ ❨1102❩ ❛ Get those bad thoughts out of your head. You're going to be happy. ❜ ❨1103❩ ❛ Children inherit their parents' madness. ❜ ❨1104❩ ❛ I'll turn to ashes in here but I won't give this miserable town the pleasure of seeing me weep. ❜ ❨1105❩ ❛ You would be good in a war. Where you put your eye, you put your bullet. ❜ ❨1106❩ ❛ Men demand much more than you think. ❜ ❨1107❩ ❛ Even the craziest and most persistent love is just a temporary truth. ❜ ❨1108❩ ❛ If we’re alone you can whisper in my ear any crap you can think of. ❜ ❨1109❩ ❛ You have taken this horrible game very seriously and you have done well because you are doing your duty. ❜ ❨1110❩ ❛ We have the right to pull down your pants and give you a whipping at the first sign of disrespect. ❜ ❨1111❩ ❛ What worries me is not your shooting me, because after all, for people like us it's a natural death. ❜ ❨1112❩ ❛ What worries me is that you've ended up as bad as they are. ❜ ❨1113❩ ❛ It is characteristic of men to deny hunger once their appetites are satisfied. ❜ ❨1114❩ ❛ Dying is much more difficult than one imagines. ❜ ❨1115❩ ❛ If you have to go crazy, please go crazy all by yourself! ❜ ❨1116❩ ❛ We have still not had a death. ❜ ❨1117❩ ❛ How awful, the way time passes. ❜ ❨1118❩ ❛ You may be in command of your war, but I'm in command of my house. ❜ ❨1119❩ ❛ I missed you every hour. ❜ ❨1120❩ ❛ You know what the worst part was? It caught me completely by surprise. ❜ ❨1121❩ ❛ I’ve risked my life for you. ❜ ❨1122❩ ❛ The problem with wanting is that it makes us weak. ❜ ❨1123❩ ❛ I love you, even the part of you that loved him. ❜ ❨1124❩ ❛ I’m sorry it took me so long to see you. ❜ ❨1125❩ ❛ I never really belonged anywhere. ❜ ❨1126❩ ❛ Thanks for being my best friend and making my life bearable.  ❜ ❨1127❩ ❛ Thanks for finding me. ❜ ❨1128❩ ❛ You and I are going to change the world. ❜ ❨1129❩ ❛ I’ve been waiting for you a long time. ❜ ❨1130❩ ❛ I’m not used to people trying to kill me. ❜ ❨1131❩ ❛ You’re shaking. ❜ ❨1132❩ ❛ There's nothing wrong with being a lizard. Unless you were born to be a hawk. ❜ ❨1133❩ ❛ Make me your villain. ❜ ❨1134❩ ❛ Just you and me. It’s always just you and me. ❜ ❨1135❩ ❛ Do you blame me for every mistake I made? For every dumb thing I’ve said? ❜ ❨1136❩ ❛ Well, if it gets too bad, give me a signal. ❜ ❨1137❩ ❛ Did you tell him what I showed you in the dark? ❜ ❨1138❩ ❛ Did you miss me when you were gone? ❜ ❨1139❩ ❛ What is infinite? The universe and the greed of men. ❜ ❨1140❩ ❛ You’re interfering with my plan. ❜ ❨1141❩ ❛ Too much champagne? ❜ ❨1142❩ ❛ I hope you don’t expect fairness from me. It isn’t one of my specialties. ❜ ❨1143❩ ❛ There is something more powerful than any army. Something strong enough to topple kings. Faith. ❜ ❨1144❩ ❛ All you said was that I had to kill you. You didn’t say how. ❜ ❨1145❩ ❛ What is she? She’s everything, you dumb son of a bitch. ❜ ❨1146❩ ❛ She’s an ugly little thing. No child should look like that. Pale and sour, like a glass of milk that’s turned. ❜ ❨1147❩ ❛ I wouldn’t make that mistake again. ❜ ❨1148❩ ❛ It’s a great honor, to save a life. You saved many. ❜ ❨1149❩ ❛ In this world, there are things you can only do alone. ❜ ❨1150❩ ❛ What seems like a reasonable distance to one person might feel too far to somebody else. ❜ ❨1151❩ ❛ If you really want to know something, you have to be willing to pay the price. ❜ ❨1152❩ ❛ Why should you be interested in me? ❜ ❨1153❩ ❛ I have been told I've got a darkish personality. A few times. ❜ ❨1154❩ ❛ It's not as if our lives are divided simply into light and dark. There's shadowy middle ground. ❜ ❨1155❩ ❛ I'll write to you. A super-long letter, like in an old-fashioned novel. ❜ ❨1156❩ ❛ The spotlight doesn't suit me. I'm more of a side dish. ❜ ❨1157❩ ❛ The ground we stand on looks solid enough, but if something happens it can drop right out from under you.  ❜ ❨1158❩ ❛ So once you're dead there's just nothing? ❜ ❨1159❩ ❛ If only I could fall sound asleep and wake up in my old reality. ❜ ❨1160❩ ❛ Is action merely the incidental product of thought, or is thought the consequential product of action? ❜ ❨1161❩ ❛ Nobody can shake off their own shadow. ❜ ❨1162❩ ❛ The silence is so deep it hurts. ❜ ❨1163❩ ❛ I may not look it, but I can be a very patient guy. ❜ ❨1164❩ ❛ Killing time is one of my specialities. ❜ ❨1165❩ ❛ You can't fight it. ❜ ❨1166❩ ❛ Tell me something,—do you believe in reincarnation? ❜ ❨1167❩ ❛ I can’t understand nothingness. I can’t understand it and I can’t imagine it. ❜ ❨1168❩ ❛ I can hardly breathe, and my whole body wants to shrink into a corner.  ❜ ❨1169❩ ❛ I do have a few things wrong with me, but those are strictly problems I keep inside. ❜ ❨1170❩ ❛ I can't take it any more, I can't go on any more. ❜ ❨1171❩ ❛ You don't really have it together. ❜ ❨1172❩ ❛ Is it against the law for me to know it? ❜ ❨1173❩ ❛ I keep having the same dream. ❜ ❨1174❩ ❛ Are you asking because you really want an answer? ❜ ❨1175❩ ❛ I hate this! I don't want to be changed this way! ❜ ❨1176❩ ❛ No contradictions, no irony. They do everything according to numerical formulas. ❜ ❨1177❩ ❛ Want to hear the rest? If you’re not interested, I can stop. ❜ ❨1178❩ ❛ If I didn’t have these memories inside me, I would’ve snapped a long time ago. I would’ve curled up in a ditch somewhere and died. ❜ ❨1179❩ ❛ I don’t know what you’re feeling. I won’t even pretend. ❜ ❨1180❩ ❛ What are you doing here, honey? ❜ ❨1181❩ ❛ You're not even old enough to know how bad life gets. ❜ ❨1182❩ ❛ You don't understand me. ❜ ❨1183❩ ❛ All wisdom ends in paradox. ❜ ❨1184❩ ❛ It is love that overthrows empire. Love that binds two hearts together, come hellfire & brimstone. ❜ ❨1185❩ ❛ I have lost my gift. ❜ ❨1186❩ ❛ Winter is the season of alcoholism and despair. ❜ ❨1187❩ ❛ The seeds of death get lost in the mess that God made us. ❜ ❨1188❩ ❛ They're just memories now. It’s time to forget. ❜ ❨1189❩ ❛ The time has to be right and the heart willing. ❜ ❨1190❩ ❛ The world, a tired performer, offers us another half-assed season. ❜ ❨1191❩ ❛ Capitalism has resulted in material well-being but spiritual bankruptcy. ❜ ❨1192❩ ❛ Grief is natural, overcoming it is a matter of choice. ❜ ❨1193❩ ❛ I want out of that decorating scheme. ❜ ❨1194❩ ❛ With most people suicide is like Russian roulette. Only one chamber has a bullet. ❜ ❨1195❩ ❛ You never get over it but you get where it doesn't bother you so much. ❜ ❨1196❩ ❛ Don't waste your time on life. ❜ ❨1197❩ ❛ I'm a teenager. I've got problems! ❜ ❨1198❩ ❛ Adolescents tend to seek love where they can find it. ❜ ❨1199❩ ❛ Obviously, you've never been a thirteen-year-old girl. ❜ ❨1200❩ ❛ It was a mistake. ❜ ❨1201❩ ❛ It seemed like we were supposed to feel sorry for everything that ever happened, ever. ❜ ❨1202❩ ❛ Buffeted but not broken. ❜ ❨1203❩ ❛ Shit. What have kids got to be worried about now? ❜ ❨1204❩ ❛ If they want trouble, they should go live in Bangladesh. ❜ ❨1205❩ ❛ I can't wait until I get out of here. ❜ ❨1206❩ ❛ When she jumped she probably thought she’d fly. ❜ ❨1207❩ ❛ I do not think the patient truly meant to end her life. Her act was a cry for help. ❜ ❨1208❩ ❛ You're a stone fox. ❜ ❨1209❩ ❛ It was love at first sight, at last sight, at ever and ever sight. ❜ ❨1210❩ ❛ Light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. ❜ ❨1211❩ ❛ He broke my heart. You merely broke my life. ❜ ❨1212❩ ❛ I'm sorry to have deceived you so much, but that's how life is. ❜ ❨1213❩ ❛ Words without experience are meaningless. ❜ ❨1214❩ ❛ I loved you. I was a monster, but I loved you. ❜ ❨1215❩ ❛ Come just as you are. ❜ ❨1216❩ ❛ If a violin string could ache, i would be that string. ❜ ❨1217❩ ❛ Perhaps, somewhere, some day, at a less miserable time, we may see each other again. ❜ ❨1218❩ ❛ What's so dreadful about dying is that you are completely on your own. ❜ ❨1219❩ ❛ Don't touch me; I'll die if you touch me. ❜ ❨1220❩ ❛ You took advantage of my disadvantage. ❜ ❨1221❩ ❛ I walk in a maze I cannot get out of. ❜ ❨1222❩ ❛ Life is just one small piece of light between two eternal darknesses. ❜ ❨1223❩ ❛ Imagine me; I shall not exist if you do not imagine me. ❜ ❨1224❩ ❛ There is no harm in smiling. ❜ ❨1225❩ ❛ There is no point in staying here. There is no point in staying anywhere. ❜ ❨1226❩ ❛ There is nothing more atrociously cruel than an adored child. ❜ ❨1227❩ ❛ I am so tired of being cynical. ❜ ❨1228❩ ❛ Come to live with me, and die with me, and everything with me. ❜ ❨1229❩ ❛ This is the only immortality that you and I may share. ❜ ❨1230❩ ❛ I loved her more than anything I had ever seen or imagined on earth, or hoped for anywhere else. ❜ ❨1231❩ ❛ I was despicable and brutal, and turpid, and everything, mais je t’aimais, je t’aimais! ❜ ❨1232❩ ❛ Years of secret suffering has taught me superhuman self-control. ❜ ❨1233❩ ❛ Solitude is corrupting me. I need company and care. ❜ ❨1234❩ ❛ I've missed you terribly. ❜ ❨1235❩ ❛ I've been revoltingly unfaithful to you. ❜ ❨1236❩ ❛ It doesn't matter a bit, because you've stopped caring anyway. ❜ ❨1237❩ ❛ What makes you say I've stopped caring for you? ❜ ❨1238❩ ❛ Nowadays you have to be a scientist if you want to be a killer. ❜ ❨1239❩ ❛ The sun climbs high in the sky, then starts down. People come, then go. ❜ ❨1240❩ ❛ Tell me, have you ever thought of killing me? ❜ ❨1241❩ ❛ I can not believe you are the same human being. ❜ ❨1242❩ ❛ Just how urgent is it? ❜ ❨1243❩ ❛ It is time for you to be going. ❜ ❨1244❩ ❛ How is it you know something like that? ❜ ❨1245❩ ❛ I don’t mind. Your mess is my mess. ❜ ❨1246❩ ❛ Everybody has one thing they do not want to lose. ❜ ❨1247❩ ❛ I’ll be late tonight, so don’t wait up for me. ❜ ❨1248❩ ❛ Nothing I’ve tried to do by myself has ever come off. ❜ ❨1249❩ ❛ I am not catching you in the middle of anything important, am I? ❜ ❨1250❩ ❛ Some things are forgotten, some things disappear, some things die. ❜ ❨1251❩ ❛ My biggest fault is that the faults I was born with grow bigger each year. ❜ ❨1252❩ ❛ To get irritated is to lose our way in life. ❜ ❨1253❩ ❛ A friend to kill time is a friend sublime. ❜ ❨1254❩ ❛ I don't really know if it's the right thing to do. ❜ ❨1255❩ ❛ Faster cars and more cats run over? Who needs it? ❜ ❨1256❩ ❛ Most of everything you think you know about me is nothing more than memories. ❜ ❨1257❩ ❛ Your fate is and will always be the fate of a dreamer. ❜ ❨1258❩ ❛ You’re loads better than you think you are. ❜ ❨1259❩ ❛ You’re only half-living, the other half is still untapped somewhere. ❜ ❨1260❩ ❛ The song is over. But the melody lingers on. ❜ ❨1261❩ ❛ You are extraordinary. ❜ ❨1262❩ ❛ We tend to fool ourselves into thinking that time is our size, but it really goes on and on. ❜ ❨1263❩ ❛ It could be five years or ten years or one month. It's all the same. ❜ ❨1264❩ ❛ I’m forever realising things too late. ❜ ❨1265❩ ❛ I’m not complaining when I say my life is boring. ❜ ❨1266❩ ❛ Weakness is something that rots in the body. ❜ ❨1267❩ ❛ Coming from your mouth, it has the ring of truth, but I doubt anyone would believe me if I told them. ❜ ❨1268❩ ❛ You can't expect something unreal to last anyway, can you? ❜ ❨1269❩ ❛ A wise man does not step betwixt the beast and his meat. ❜ ❨1270❩ ❛ So, kill me. Tell the others I attacked you so you killed me. ❜ ❨1271❩ ❛ Should never have come here. ❜ ❨1272❩ ❛ Hard to guess my tastes. ❜ ❨1273❩ ❛ Can’t it wait until the morning? ❜ ❨1274❩ ❛ You’ll find temper tantrums won’t help you here. ❜ ❨1275❩ ❛ It must have taken courage to return. ❜ ❨1276❩ ❛ It all sounds grimly dystopian. ❜ ❨1277❩ ❛ I am not afraid of you! ❜ ❨1278❩ ❛ All this could be avoided! ❜ ❨1279❩ ❛ You consider me a murderer? ❜ ❨1280❩ ❛ Gross way to die. ❜ ❨1281❩ ❛ What sparks wars? The will to power, the backbone of human nature. ❜ ❨1282❩ ❛ My life amounts to no more than one drop in a limitless ocean. Yet what is any ocean, but a multitude of drops? ❜ ❨1283❩ ❛ Our lives are not our own. We are bound to others. ❜ ❨1284❩ ❛ I believe there is another world waiting for us. A better world. And I'll be waiting for you there. ❜ ❨1285❩ ❛ You are allowed to feel messed up and inside out. It doesn't mean you're defective - it just means you're human. ❜ ❨1286❩ ❛ Power, time, gravity, love. The forces that really kick ass are all invisible. ❜ ❨1287❩ ❛ Unlimited power in the hands of limited people always leads to cruelty. ❜ ❨1288❩ ❛ Truth is singular. Its 'versions' are mistruths. ❜ ❨1289❩ ❛ Dreams are all I have ever truly owned. ❜ ❨1290❩ ❛ Your version of the truth is the only thing that matters. ❜ ❨1291❩ ❛ I believe death is only a door. One closes, and another opens. ❜ ❨1292❩ ❛ By each crime and every kindness, we birth our future. ❜ ❨1293❩ ❛ The healthy can't understand the emptied, the broken. ❜ ❨1294❩ ❛ Lying's wrong, but when the world spins backwards, a small wrong may be a big right. ❜ ❨1295❩ ❛ The weak are meat the strong do eat. ❜ ❨1296❩ ❛ Do whatever you can't not do. ❜ ❨1297❩ ❛ What precipitates outcomes? Vicious acts & virtuous acts. ❜ ❨1298❩ ❛ I remain thankful to God for all his mercies. ❜ ❨1299❩ ❛ You can maintain power over people, as long as you give them something. Rob a man of everything, and that man will no longer be in your power. ❜ ❨1300❩ ❛ Power. The ability to determine another man's luck. ❜ ❨1301❩ ❛ Pain is strong, aye - but friends' eyes, more strong. ❜ ❨1302❩ ❛ Perhaps those deprived of beauty perceive it most instinctively. ❜ ❨1303❩ ❛ Why ask a question whose answer would demand ten more questions? ❜ ❨1304❩ ❛ You can’t lie to your soul. ❜ ❨1305❩ ❛ Why would I want to do a thing like that? ❜ ❨1306❩ ❛ We start off with high hopes, then we bottle it. ❜ ❨1307❩ ❛ Better to make life as complete and enjoyable an experience as possible, in case death is shite, which I suspect it will be. ❜ ❨1308❩ ❛ I’m not running away, I’m moving on. ❜ ❨1309❩ ❛ The reasons? There are no reasons. ❜ ❨1310❩ ❛ Some people are easier to love when you don’t have to be around them. ❜ ❨1311❩ ❛ Love does not exist. ❜ ❨1312❩ ❛ Fuck that ‘regrets’ bullshit. ❜ ❨1313❩ ❛ How does it make you feel? ❜ ❨1314❩ ❛ It’s horrible how we always die alone, but no worse than living alone. ❜ ❨1315❩ ❛ Choose us. Choose life. ❜ ❨1316❩ ❛ You fucking knew that fucking cunt would fuck some cunt. ❜ ❨1317❩ ❛ I’m more of a warrior than you’ll ever be. ❜ ❨1318❩ ❛ What does that make us? The lowest of the low, the scum of the earth. ❜ ❨1319❩ ❛ You don’t have to run away.  ❜ ❨1320❩ ❛ I tried to stop because it was only causing pain. I couldn’t. ❜ ❨1321❩ ❛ I’m not going to get crushed. ❜ ❨1322❩ ❛ I love doubt in a woman. It’s nearly as sexy as determination. ❜ ❨1323❩ ❛ Take your best orgasm, multiply the feeling by twenty. ❜ ❨1324❩ ❛ You’re a mess. ❜ ❨1325❩ ❛ I know that it’s never left you alone. ❜ ❨1326❩ ❛ Are you asking me or telling me? ❜ ❨1327❩ ❛ You just get used to all the shit. ❜ ❨1328❩ ❛ You can’t afford a conscience in this life. ❜ ❨1329❩ ❛ None of us are saints and scapegoats are always handy. ❜ ❨1330❩ ❛ Doing things doesn’t hurt you; you get hurt by avoiding them. ❜ ❨1331❩ ❛ What was that? ❜ ❨1332❩ ❛ Protect me from those who wish to help us. ❜ ❨1333❩ ❛ You can’t love yourself if you want to hurt things like that. ❜ ❨1334❩ ❛ What happens when people open their hearts? ❜ ❨1335❩ ❛ Nobody likes being alone that much. ❜ ❨1336❩ ❛ I don’t go out of my way to make friends, that’s all. It just leads to disappointment.” ❨1337❩ ❛ Don’t feel sorry for yourself. Only assholes do that. ❜ ❨1338❩ ❛ You need to grab whatever chance you have of happiness where you find it, and not worry about other people too much. ❜ ❨1339❩ ❛ I want you always to remember me. ❜ ❨1340❩ ❛ Despite your best efforts, people are going to be hurt when it’s time for them to be hurt. ❜ ❨1341❩ ❛ What stays in your heart will stay; keep them, and what vanishes will vanish. ❜ ❨1342❩ ❛ All I want in this world is you. ❜ ❨1343❩ ❛ I want the two of us to begin everything from the beginning. ❜ ❨1344❩ ❛ No truth can cure the sorrow we feel from losing a loved one. ❜ ❨1345❩ ❛ What a terrible thing it is to wound someone you really care for and to do it so unconsciously. ❜ ❨1346❩ ❛ If you’re in pitch blackness, all you can do is sit tight until your eyes get used to the dark. ❜ ❨1347❩ ❛ I’ve had enough hurt already in my life. More than enough. Now I want to be happy. ❜ ❨1348❩ ❛ People leave strange little memories of themselves behind when they die. ❜ ❨1349❩ ❛ Stop eating yourself up alive. Things will go where they’re supposed to go if you just let them take their natural course. ❜ ❨1350❩ ❛ When your feelings build up and harden and die inside, then you’re in big trouble. ❜ ❨1351❩ ❛ When you fall in love, the natural thing to do is give yourself to it. ❜ ❨1352❩ ❛ If I have left a wound inside you, it is not just your wound but mine as well. ❜ ❨1353❩ ❛ Hey, what is it with you? Why are you so spaced out? You still haven’t answered me. ❜ ❨1354❩ ❛ People are strange when you’re a stranger. ❜ ❨1355❩ ❛ The dead will always be dead, but we have to go on living. ❜ ❨1356❩ ❛ You don’t get it, do you? ❜ ❨1357❩ ❛ I am a flawed human being - a far more flawed human being than you ❨1358❩ realise. ❜ ❨1359❩ ❛ At least let me know whether or not I hurt you. ❜ ❨1360❩ ❛ All of us are imperfect human beings living in an imperfect world. ❜ ❨1361❩ ❛ I’ve never once thought about how I was going to die. ❜ ❨1362❩ ❛ So I’m not crazy after all! ❜ ❨1363❩ ❛ I miss you terribly sometimes, but in general I go on living with all the energy I can muster. ❜ ❨1364❩ ❛ Will you wait for me forever? ❜ ❨1365❩ ❛ I don’t want our relationship to end like this. ❜ ❨1366❩ ❛ When am I going to be able to talk to you? I want you to tell me that much, at least. ❜ ❨1367❩ ❛ It hurts not being able to see you. ❜ ❨1368❩ ❛ I’m not totally mad at you. I’m just sad. ❜ ❨1369❩ ❛ The world is an inherently unfair place. ❜ ❨1370❩ ❛ Life frightens me sometimes. I don’t happen to take that as the premise for everything else though. ❜ ❨1371❩ ❛ I’m a real bargain, don’t you think? If you don’t take me, I’ll end up going somewhere else. ❜ ❨1372❩ ❛ We’re all kind of weird and twisted and drowning. ❜ ❨1373❩ ❛ Don’t you think it would be wonderful to get rid of everything and everybody and just go some place where you don’t know a soul? ❜ ❨1374❩ ❛ You’re not telling me anything I don’t know already. ❜ ❨1375❩ ❛ He who controls the past controls the future. He who controls the present controls the past. ❜ ❨1376❩ ❛ If you want to keep a secret, you must also hide it from yourself. ❜ ❨1377❩ ❛ We shall meet in the place where there is no darkness. ❜ ❨1378❩ ❛ Until they become conscious they will never rebel. ❜ ❨1379❩ ❛ Power is not a means; it is an end. ❜ ❨1380❩ ❛ They are not interested in the good of others; they are interested solely in power, pure power. ❜ ❨1381❩ ❛ Now you begin to understand me. ❜ ❨1382❩ ❛ In the face of pain there are no heroes. ❜ ❨1383❩ ❛ Big Brother is watching you. ❜ ❨1384❩ ❛ Power is tearing human minds to pieces and putting them together again in new shapes of your own choosing. ❜ ❨1385❩ ❛ It’s a beautiful thing, the destruction of words. ❜ ❨1386❩ ❛ The choice for mankind lies between freedom and happiness and for the great bulk of mankind, happiness is better. ❜ ❨1387❩ ❛ Your mind appeals to me. It resembles my own mind. ❜ ❨1388❩ ❛ Reality exists in the human mind, and nowhere else. ❜ ❨1389❩ ❛ We do not merely destroy our enemies; we change them. ❜ ❨1390❩ ❛ How can I help it? How can I help but see what is in front of my eyes? ❜ ❨1391❩ ❛ You must try harder. ❜ ❨1392❩ ❛ Confession is not betrayal. ❜ ❨1393❩ ❛ What you say or do doesn’t matter; only feelings matter. ❜ ❨1394❩ ❛ If they could make me stop loving you —- that would be the real betrayal. ❜ ❨1395❩ ❛ Of pain you can wish only one thing: that it should stop. ❜ ❨1396❩ ❛ To die hating them, that will be freedom. ❜ ❨1397❩ ❛ No one ever seizes power with the intention of relinquishing it. ❜ ❨1398❩ ❛ What can you do against the lunatic who is more intelligent than yourself? ❜ ❨1399❩ ❛ To keep them in control is not difficult. ❜ ❨1400❩ ❛ So long as they are not permitted to have standards of comparison, they never even become aware that they are oppressed. ❜ ❨1401❩ ❛ The consequences of every act are included in the act itself. ❜ ❨1402❩ ❛ The essential act of war is destruction, not necessarily of human lives, but of the products of human labour. ❜ ❨1403❩ ❛ Stupidity is as necessary as intelligence, and as difficult to attain. ❜ ❨1404❩ ❛ I hate purity, I hate goodness! I don’t want virtue to exist anywhere. I want everyone to be corrupt to the bones. ❜ ❨1405❩ ❛ The past is dead, the future is unimaginable. ❜ ❨1406❩ ❛ You know the answer already. Everyone knows it. ❜ ❨1407❩ ❛ You don’t give a damn what they suffer. All you care is yourself. ❜ ❨1408❩ ❛ It is not easy to become sane. ❜ ❨1409❩ ❛ No emotion is pure anymore, because everything is mixed up with fear and hatred. ❜ ❨1410❩ ❛ They say that time heals all things —- they say you can always forget. ❜ ❨1411❩ ❛ The object of waging a war is always to be in a better position in which to wage another war. ❜ ❨1412❩ ❛ I sold you and you sold me. ❜ ❨1413❩ ❛ You do not exist. ❜ ❨1414❩ ❛ How does one man assert his power over another? By making him suffer. ❜ ❨1415❩ ❛ Obedience is not enough. Unless he is suffering, how can you be sure that he is obeying your will and not his own? ❜ ❨1416❩ ❛ Everything else we shall destroy – everything. ❜ ❨1417❩ ❛ Two and two makes five. ❜ ❨1418❩ ❛ Facts, at any rate, can not be kept hidden. ❜ ❨1419❩ ❛ The past is whatever the records and the memories agree upon. ❜ ❨1420❩ ❛ So long as human beings stay human, death and life are the same thing. ❜ ❨1421❩ ❛ If both the past and the external world exist only in the mind, and if the mind itself is controllable—what then? ❜ ❨1422❩ ❛ The lie became the truth. ❜ ❨1423❩ ❛ It is like swimming against a current that sweeps you backwards however hard you struggle. ❜ ❨1424❩ ❛ Turn round and go with the current instead of opposing it. ❜ ❨1425❩ ❛ It’s only after we’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything. ❜ ❨1426❩ ❛ I don’t want to die without any scars. ❜ ❨1427❩ ❛ This is your life and it’s ending one moment at a time. ❜ ❨1428❩ ❛ You know how they say you only hurt the ones you love? Well, it works both ways. ❜ ❨1429❩ ❛ You are not your job, you’re not how much money you have in the bank. You are not the car you drive. You’re not the contents of your wallet. ❜ ❨1430❩ ❛ You are not special. ❜ ❨1431❩ ❛ You’re not a beautiful and unique snowflake. You’re the same decaying organic matter as everything else. ❜ ❨1432❩ ❛ The things you used to own, now they own you. ❜ ❨1433❩ ❛ Today is the sort of day where the sun only comes up to humiliate you. ❜ ❨1434❩ ❛ Maybe we have to break everything to make something better out of ourselves. ❜ ❨1435❩ ❛ Only after disaster can we be resurrected. ❜ ❨1436❩ ❛ Everything is evolving, everything is falling apart. ❜ ❨1437❩ ❛ We’ve all been raised believe that one day we’d all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won’t. ❜ ❨1438❩ ❛ Don’t you have other things to do? ❜ ❨1439❩ ❛ Prove you’re alive. If you don’t claim your humanity you will become a statistic. ❜ ❨1440❩ ❛ You have been warned. ❜ ❨1441❩ ❛ If you don’t know what you want, you end up with a lot you don’t. ❜ ❨1442❩ ❛ It’s not love or anything, but I think I like you, too. ❜ ❨1443❩ ❛ If I could wake up in a different place, at a different time, could I wake up as a different person? ❜ ❨1444❩ ❛ Why did I cause so much pain? ❜ ❨1445❩ ❛ The lower you fall, the higher you’ll fly. ❜ ❨1446❩ ❛ Maybe self-improvement isn’t the answer, maybe self-destruction is the answer. ❜ ❨1447❩ ❛ May I never be complete. May I never be content. May I never be perfect. ❜ ❨1448❩ ❛ Everyone smiles with that invisible gun to their head. ❜ ❨1449❩ ❛ We are not special. We are not crap or trash, either. We just are. We just are, and what happens just happens. ❜ ❨1450❩ ❛ The girl is infectious human waste. ❜ ❨1451❩ ❛ I want to destroy everything beautiful I’ll never have. ❜ ❨1452❩ ❛ On a long enough time line, the survival rate for everyone drops to zero. ❜ ❨1453❩ ❛ If you could be either God’s worst enemy or nothing, which would you choose? ❜ ❨1454❩ ❛ It is like you’re never really awake; but you’re never really asleep. ❜ ❨1455❩ ❛ Worker bees can leave. Even drones can fly away. The Queen is their slave. ❜ ❨1456❩ ❛ A moment is the most you could ever expect from perfection. ❜ ❨1457❩ ❛ The people you’re trying to step on, we’re everyone you depend on. ❜ ❨1458❩ ❛ You have to give up! ❜ ❨1459❩ ❛ Reject the basic assumptions of civilisation, especially the importance of material possessions. ❜ ❨1460❩ ❛ Without pain, without sacrifice we would have nothing. ❜ ❨1461❩ ❛ You have to realise that someday you will die, Until you know that, you are useless. ❜ ❨1462❩ ❛ A tiger can smile. A snake will say it loves you. ❜ ❨1463❩ ❛ Lies make us evil. ❜ ❨1464❩ ❛ If you died right now, how would you feel about your life? ❜ ❨1465❩ ❛ You always kill the one you love. ❜ ❨1466❩ ❛ Maybe we should always assume the worst. ❜ ❨1467❩ ❛ Put a gun to my head and paint the wall with my brains. ❜ ❨1468❩ ❛ Which is worse? Hell or nothing? ❜ ❨1469❩ ❛ A minute of perfection is worth the effort. ❜ ❨1470❩ ❛ You’re going to die, tonight. You might die in one second or in one hour, you decide. ❜ ❨1471❩ ❛ Lie to me. Tell me the first thing off the top of your head. Make something up. ❜ ❨1472❩ ❛ I don’t give a shit. I have a gun. ❜ ❨1473❩ ❛ I know who you are. I know where you live. ❜ ❨1474❩ ❛ Tomorrow will be the most beautiful day of your life. ❜ ❨1475❩ ❛ My philosophy of life is that I can die at any moment. And the tragedy of my life is that I do not. ❜ ❨1476❩ ❛ Everything is so far away, a copy of a copy of a copy. You can’t touch anything and nothing can touch you. ❜ ❨1477❩ ❛ There are a lot of things we don’t want to know about the people we love. ❜ ❨1478❩ ❛ We just had a near-life experience. ❜ ❨1479❩ ❛ If people think you are dying, they give you their full attention. They listen instead of just waiting for their turn to speak. ❜ ❨1480❩ ❛ I am nothing, and not even that. ❜ ❨1481❩ ❛ This isn’t really death. —- We’ll be legends. We won’t grow old. ❜ ❨1482❩ ❛ Stop trying to control everything and just let go. Let go. ❜ ❨1483❩ ❛ The amazing miracle of death, when one second you’re walking and talking, and the next second you’re an object. ❜ ❨1484❩ ❛ Only if we’re caught and punished can we be saved. ❜ ❨1485❩ ❛ I never thought about how important the sky was until I didn't have one. ❜ ❨1486❩ ❛ Dreams are like that: they go in and out of memories and scenes, but they're never real. They're never real, and I hate them because they aren't. ❜ ❨1487❩ ❛ Power isn’t control at all — power is strength, and giving that strength to others. ❜ ❨1488❩ ❛ A leader isn’t someone who forces others to make him stronger. ❜ ❨1489❩ ❛ A leader is someone willing to give his strength to others that they may have the strength to stand on their own. ❜ ❨1490❩ ❛ In the end, we are alone. ❜ ❨1491❩ ❛ It is like a piece of my soul is lost, empty. ❜ ❨1492❩ ❛ If my life on Earth must end, let it end with a promise. Let it end with hope. ❜ ❨1493❩ ❛ Sorry? Sorry isn't enough. ❜ ❨1494❩ ❛ Every single thing I ever loved is beyond my reach now. Everything I ever wanted. Everything I ever was. ❜ ❨1495❩ ❛ Will you stay with me? ❜ ❨1496❩ ❛ A leader doesn't make pawns - he makes people. ❜ ❨1497❩ ❛ Do you hear that? The pulse of life from your heart, the slow in-and-out from your lungs? Even when you are silent, even when you block out all noise, your body is still a cacophony of life. Mine is not. ❜ ❨1498❩ ❛ It is the silence that drives me mad. The silence that drives the nightmares to me. ❜ ❨1499❩ ❛ There is nothing between us but rain. There is nothing between us at all. ❜ ❨1500❩ ❛ I like a little chaos. ❜

[inkykeiji]

break my heart in two, but when it heals it beats for you

character: zenin naoya

genre: smut + angst

notes: aaaaah this is my lil submission for the sewer’s soulmate syndrome collab (and my first collab ever waaah!!!) it’s a curseless soulmate AU with the tiniest hint of the zenin’s being a prominent crime family. please please heed the warnings!! | title credit: back to you by selena gomez

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, incest (reader and naoya are half siblings), mentioned death of a family member (mother), naoya being his misogynistic self, excessive use of the word ‘Daddy’ to refer to their biological father, one (1) instance of physical abuse, size kink/size difference, mentioned relationship between a university student (reader) and their TA, infidelity, one (1) mention of Daddy being yakuza, age difference, spanking done by reader’s biological father, toxic relationships, minimal prep, rough sex, a hint of degradation

words: 9.5k

synopsis:

Except the torture doesn’t stop, even when you’re gone, because he’s assaulted with thoughts of you the very moment you leave—what you’re doing, who you’re with, if he plagues your mind as much as you plague his—you’re like a fucking sickness, a parasite that burrows deep between the folds and tissues of his brain, infecting it, and he’s hopeless to find a cure.

It’s a few days after his twenty-ninth birthday, the night you appear—unannounced, uninvited, and an absolute fucking mess—falling into his father’s arms the moment he opens the door, fingers curling in the material of his cashmere button up and tugging as powerful sobs rip through your entire body, violent tremors following.

It’s fucking disgusting, the way his father reacts. Naoya watches the entire thing unfold from the shadows of the living room, nose wrinkled in distaste, features twisted in aversion and saturated in abhorrence.

Because his father lets you cling to him like a child—a grown woman, gripping a seventy-one year old man like a sniveling little girl—as he manages to scoop you up into his arms, collapsing onto his favourite armchair with you in his lap, hushing you gently as he rocks you back and forth, large hands stroking your shuddering back as you nuzzle your puffy, snot-stained face into his chest, wailing out Daddy!

It’s the first time Naoya’s ever seen his father behave in such a way, revolt churning his stomach as he observes the quite frankly unfamiliar man in front of him. It makes him fucking sick to watch, acidic bile rising in his throat until it stings the back of his tongue, face souring as he swallows it back down.

And you can’t even manage to force words through your stuttering breathing and hiccupped little sobs, unable to explain the situation at all without being overwhelmed by another fresh wave of tears, crashing over your body as you fall back into the sanctuary of his father’s arms, face buried in his neck, now soiled with spit and salt water.

“Naoya,” his father calls, voice curt and stern and demanding, snapping Naoya’s gaze to his own in an instant. “A glass of water, please?”

Naoya scoffs, narrowing his eyes. “What the fuck do I look like to you? The help?”

And Naoya’s no stranger to the level gaze his father fixes him with, has seen that same look etched into his father’s face more times than he can count, eyebrows pinched and mouth pressed in a firm, fine line, chest rising as he inhales slowly, calmly, deeply, then exhales through flared nostrils.

“You look like a good big brother who’s on his way to get his baby sister some water,”

Ah, right, that’s who you are—the bastard, Daddy’s little mistake, an ugly, irreversible stain on their family’s prestigious name.

“That bitch is not my sister,” he grumbles as he stomps from the room and towards the kitchen to fetch you a drink, huffing under his breath about being treated like a fucking woman, yet obeying his father’s orders nonetheless.

It turns out, Naoya learns, that your mother has passed away, leaving his poor bastard of a baby sister all alone in the world, with nowhere to go—and you’ve come here to ask for shelter and food, just until you get on your feet.

It’s fucking pathetic, as far as Naoya’s concerned, shaking his head in condescending disbelief with a cruel snort. It’s almost difficult to believe that you, undoubtedly the family disgrace; you, with your dirty blood and the dishonour you haul around everywhere with you, have the balls to come crawling to his father begging for support. You’re an adult, for Christ’s sake, and you should act like one, should be out scouring the earth for some equally pathetic man to serve like you ought to, like you would have, if you knew your place. Maybe then, Naoya would have a shred of respect for you.

Maybe.  

“How selfish. Daddy already pays for your tuition, why should he provide you with housing, too? Are you really that incompetent? Can’t do a thing for yourself, huh?”

Your head whips around to face him, almost as if you’re startled by his presence, by his voice addressing you directly, a sharp gasp falling from your lips the moment your eyes meet.

It’s the first time you’ve actually looked at him since you’ve arrived, the first time your gaze has connected with his, eyes bloodshot and gleaming as crystal tears stream down your cheeks, excess water clinging to spidery lashes, clumped together in spikes.

God, you’re beautiful.

It kicks him right in the motherfucking chest, hard enough that he stumbles back a few feet into the stone fireplace, a hand gripping the mantle for stability while his body caves in on itself. A spear of agony sears through his body, slicing clean through all of his vital organs as you choke out an apology punctuated with an honorific, head shaking in jerky little motions as your tongue struggles to form words to explain yourself.

And he’s never felt anything like it in his entire life, skin feeling as though it’s been set ablaze from the inside, thick black smoke filling is lungs as he wheezes on an inhale, strangled by it.

“Naoya,�� his father snaps, eyes wide and scorching. “Leave.”

Each step away from the living room feels heavier than the last, as if his blood’s been replaced by lead, by rapidly drying concrete, rendering him incapable of lifting his feet from the floor, dragging them against the tile until it’s fucking painful, calves and thighs tingling as if the blood flow’s been entirely obstructed, muscles quivering and exhausted.

“It’s okay,” he can hear his father’s faint voice soothing you, each of your sniffles feeling like a sharp little thorn straight to his heart, each of your tiny I’m sorry’s carving out a vacant, phantom wound in his chest. “Shh, it’s alright, Daddy’s here, Daddy’s got you,”

“Pathetic,” Naoya spits to the empty hallway, though the word wavers, catching a little in his throat, letters scraping the gummy walls as he forces them from his mouth, leaving scalding little blisters in its wake.

It’s then that Naoya decides he hates you; standing motionless in the dark  hallway, feet inexplicably bolted to the floor and chest burning with some unknown emotion, a fire that blazes and rages, flares and thrashes, with each of your hitched little apologies, his teeth clenched together so tightly he’s surprised they don’t crack.

But it’s only after your sobs have calmed, father having reduced them to soft sniffles and half-hiccups through tender words and sweet affirmations, only after Naoya knows that you’ll be staying here for the night—that you’ll be safe—that he regains control over his limbs, that he rips his cement-filled feet from the floor and trudges towards his bedroom, scalding inferno dulled to simmering coals and faint flickering cinders.

He doesn’t think about it—isn’t going to think about it, refuses to waste his time or energy on such absurdity, refuses to allow his father’s preposterous decisions and ridiculous sentiments soak up space in his consciousness.

And he absolutely refuses to think about is the way your sudden presence punched a sharp gasp from his chest, the way he suddenly feels incomplete, like something’s missing, now that you aren’t within arms-reach, the way that he lost control over his entire body for the first time in his fucking life, in that hallway, just a few moments ago.

    ✰          ✰          ✰

His father—your father—falls in love with you almost immediately; having only met you briefly a few times before this, despite sending your mother multiple cheques every month for over twenty years.

It’s truly deplorable, positively sickening to watch the way his eyes light up when you come skipping into the living room after your afternoon university classes, dropping a fat, almost obscene kiss to Daddy’s cheek before plopping down on his lap as you chatter on about your day—about what you learned in lecture today, about the essay you got back (top of your class, of course), about your cute TA with the white hair and crystal eyes who always seems to conjure a bashful expression the moment you mention his name.

Naoya watches the entire thing unfold day after day, a deep sneer etched into his face, jaw clenched so hard it begins to ache, light eyes glaring daggers in your direction.

Something akin to jealousy, a creature with glowing emerald eyes and gnashing teeth and razor claws that slash and tear at the pit of his belly, roars and rattles the ribs that keep it caged within his chest, gnawing on the bones every time his—your—father makes you giggle, your eyes sparkling with adoration as you gaze at him; every time lithe fingers brush hair back from your face or a large palm settles on the crown of you head, petting you gently; every time you nuzzle into his neck, curling up comfortably—perfectly—in Daddy’s big, strong arms that keep you protected from all of the bad, from all of the evils of this world, from him, the big brother that loathes you.

It’s unsettling, almost sad in a sense, seeing his father fall from grace, observing the way you decay his persona so quickly, eating away at it like corrosive acid, rotting him from the inside out; the way he morphs from one of the most powerful and feared Yakuza bosses into soft, sticky, sweet putty in your hands the moment you appear; the way your presence shatters his tough, hard exterior and renders him gentle and tender—gentler and tenderer than he’s ever behaved with Naoya or any of his older brothers.

He can’t fucking stand to watch it, despises every single thing about it, positively detests the inexplicable, uncontrollable sensations that thrash and thunder inside of him, an unusual mixture of envy and melancholy, of wrath and desire, combined to create something toxic, something hazardous, something uncontainable that erodes his senses and mind, leaking into his bloodstream and poisoning his thoughts.

Because his gaze stays glued to you the moment you enter a room, like he’s bewitched by you, cursed by you the way his father has become, unable to rip his eyes from your form until you exit.

Except the torture doesn’t stop, even when you’re gone, because he’s assaulted with thoughts of you the moment you leave—what you’re doing, who you’re with, if he plagues your mind as much as you plague his—you’re like a fucking sickness, a parasite that burrows deep between the folds and tissues of his brain, infecting it, and he’s hopeless to find a cure.

And the worst part, the worst part is that he hasn’t a clue why. He doesn’t know why he feels the way he does, why you evoke such strong emotions—emotions he’s never felt before, emotions he doesn’t have a name for—or why, suddenly, everything feels wrong, off, whenever you’re not around.

It’s fucking annoying. Those tiny, raised bumps on the inside of his wrist—shaped in the form of a zodiac constellation, a mark everyone is born with, a mark that supposedly hints at your soulmate—burn and tingle as he meditates on these notions, blunt nails scratching viciously at his skin.

    ✰          ✰          ✰

Daddy grants you permission to stay at the estate for as long as you’d like, because of course he does, a victim to the spell you’ve cast. He even gives you your own room, helps you pick out furniture and takes you shopping for new clothes. You promise to do your share around the house—pinky swear—and, to Naoya’s immense dissatisfaction, you don’t disappoint.

No. Instead, you excel.

Those pretty little words weren’t empty promises—you begin cooking all of the meals, taking on the task to do the dishes entirely by yourself, tending to the house and the garden outside, even going as far to aid the help in their daily cleaning routines, until Daddy tells you it isn’t necessary.

And you manage to capture almost everyone’s hearts through your deeds and duties, through your kind and compassionate nature, through your being attentive and, for the most part, obedient—but most important of all, being family oriented.

You do the laundry when it needs to be done. You keep the house spotless and the kitchen sparkling. You learn everyone’s favourite dishes and then dedicate hours upon hours to perfecting them.

Naoya observes you throughout it all, sharp eyes following your movements, watching as you expertly tend to everyone’s needs, almost as if you know what they’ll require before they do.

You’d be perfect wife material, if you weren’t his sister—he catches the thought as it drifts through his mind—a sentiment that’s almost involuntary, unthinking in nature— and strangles it with his bare hands, stomps on it until it’s nothing but dust.

Because what’s more infuriating than anything else is that you are a good woman, a perfect woman, a woman who—for the most part—understands her place and duty in the household; or, at least, you did, before Daddy began spoiling you rotten.

It earns you the nickname princess from your favourite nii-san, hissed through gritted teeth with narrowed eyes and scrunched up noses, drenched in condescension and sprinkled with artificial icing sugar—a nickname Daddy irritatingly and affectionately adopts, extracting all of the patronization Naoya had imbued it with and stuffing it full of love.

You aren’t invincible, though, no matter how precious you are, how sweet your voice becomes when you bat your eyelashes and fix a pout on your lips, how much Daddy is barely able to deny you.

Because Daddy’s incessant spoiling does eventually bite him in the ass, just like Naoya knew it would.

    ✰          ✰          ✰

“But Daddy,” you whine, wearing your prettiest pout and cutest puppy-dog eyes, lethal weapons that are nearly foolproof, your most cherished expressions that grant you almost everything you want. “It’ll just be for a little, I promise! Just a drink or two!”

“I said no—”

“But everyone’s going! Even my professors will be there; I’m expected to show up!” Voice rising in pitch, your arms cross over your chest as eyebrows knit deeply and a lip juts out further, looking about two seconds away from stomping your foot.

Naoya would be amused, really, to see a grown woman acting like a petulant fucking child over some inconsequential party being thrown by the department, if he didn’t feel like his heart was ripping itself to pieces with your teary expression and soft half-sniffles, with the knowledge that, if you attend, you’ll be with him.

“You have an exam tomorrow,” Daddy reminds you in a sigh, dipping his head to scrutinize you over the rim of his reading glasses. “Are they not all required to write the same exam as well?”

“Well, they are, but—”

“But they didn’t spend their study break out gallivanting with their TA, did they?”

Your eyes widen for a second, shocked by the words leaving your father’s mouth, but the expression is gone in an instant, morphed into incredulousness, eyes rolling as your tongue tuts in disbelief.

“Please, we were studying,”

The chuckle that escapes your father’s lips is anything but warm; it’s cruel and condescending, a sharp slap to the face, your bottom lip beginning to tremble as he snaps his book shut, the sound echoing throughout the living room.

“You must think me a real fool,” he’s almost snickering as he throws his glasses on the coffee table, grunting a little as he stands from his armchair and raises himself to his full height, towering over you. “Do you think Daddy’s stupid?”

“What? No, of course not—”  

“Then why are you lying to him?”

“I-I’m not—”

“And you’re doing it again?”

Head shaking in jerky, quivering movements, your lips open and close, emitting nothing more but little squeaks of breath as you try to backtrack, managing to stammer out an apology.

“It’s a little late for that,” your father’s saying sternly, a large hand curling around your bicep as he yanks you towards him, beginning to haul you down the hall. “Good girls do not lie to their fathers,”

Naoya sits tense and coiled in his father’s armchair, a symphony of your cries mingled with harsh slaps of Daddy’s calloused palm against your smooth skin carrying throughout the house, and he swallows thickly, past the lump that’s lodged itself in the column of his throat, past the bitter acid rising in his chest, past the irregular thumping of his heart against his ribs.

Because he doesn’t know why your wails and squeals of Daddy! M’sorry! Daddy! make his cock throb and his chest ache—ache with longing, with want and desire, with jealousy—doesn’t know why he finds himself fucking his fist to those memories that same night, mind fixated on the quick glance he had caught through the sliver of the open door when he couldn’t stand it anymore, when he had to sneak down the hallway just to make sure everything was alright, images of you thrown over father’s knees, bare ass spanked raw materializing in his head.

Or maybe he does know. Maybe he refuses to admit it. Maybe he just pretends he doesn’t, because he wishes he didn’t.

Still, you always get off fucking easy, as far as Naoya’s concerned. He’s never witnessed his father allow any woman to talk back to him with such horrid disrespect, to whine and plead and roll their eyes without a backhand so heavy, so hard it knocks them to the floor.

And yet, you receive a few measly spanks to your ass—a punishment that’s more embarrassing than anything else, terribly unfit for a grown woman—and get sent to your room for the rest of the night.  

“She truly is Daddy’s Little Girl,” his mother had snarled after one particular punishment, features curled up in an unattractive sneer.

Naoya can’t help but begrudgingly agree.

      ✰          ✰          ✰

“Oh, lighten up,” one of his brothers nudges his foot with the toe of his slipper before collapsing next to him one abnormally cold evening in early October, interrupting Naoya’s nightly routine of glaring at you, cuddled up into Daddy’s side as you watch a show. “Just because you aren’t Daddy’s favourite anymore doesn’t mean you have to skulk around looking like you just ate a whole lemon,”

“What’re you on about,” Naoya seethes through clenched teeth, glancing at his older brother through the corner of his eye.

“You know,” he responds airily with a knowing smirk, nodding his head in your direction. “She’s taken your place, huh? Or is that not what’s upsetting you?”

And that hurts—it hurts, because he used to be Daddy’s favourite, Daddy’s youngest—the baby—Daddy’s spoiled brat. He’s used to being the center of Daddy’s attention, used to being the object of his praise, used to being the golden child, the prized child, the destined son nurtured and conditioned to take over the Family Business once his father retires.

Light eyes roll back in his skull as he tsks in disapproval, shaking his head and clearing his throat to rid the tremble from his voice. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,”

“Mm, I think I know more than you believe,”

The words are spoken in a murmur, only loud enough for the two of them to hear, but Naoya’s gaze snaps back to his face immediately as he calls your name, gently pulling you from the hushed conversation you were having with Daddy, full of giggles and murmurs, nonchalantly asking, “When’s your birthday?”

No.

No, Naoya wants to hiss at his pathetic excuse of a brother, large hands curling into quivering fists, nails biting into the fleshy heels of his palms as teeth grit, forcefully swallowing back down the two letter refutation.

No-no-no-no-no, he doesn’t want to hear this. He doesn’t want to know, doesn’t need to know, throat constricting as you inhale to speak, chirpily responding.

Blood turns to thick ice in his veins when he hears your birth date, when he realizes those raised little bumps he was born with on the inside of his wrist match your zodiac sign. Heavy dread, black and poisonous and akin to thick disappointment, sinks in his chest, latching onto the floor of his stomach and spreading quickly, sticky as it engulfs all of his surrounding organs, coating them in acidic pollution.

He’s up and out of his seat before his brother has even finished asking you his next question, stumbling out of the room on unsteady legs, nearly tripping over his own ankles in his haste to get away from you, to escape.

He doesn’t want to know what the bumps on your inner wrist are, tells himself that it doesn’t matter, that he doesn’t care, that this is all bullshit anyway, century-old myths created by the dreamers and the sentimentalists. It isn’t like the prospect hadn’t already crossed his mind—drifting through a sick orgasmic haze after fucking his fist to the memory of you—the potential that you may be his ‘soulmate’, a cruel trick played on him by the gods. Except…

Except it isn’t real. It isn’t real. There’s no science backing it up, nothing to concretely prove that the zodiac constellation embedded in his skin has anything to do with his ‘soulmate’—or anyone else’s. It’s just a legend, an old wives tale made up for the romantics and nothing else.

In his alacrity to resist it, he turns fucking ruthless in his verbal assault, but nothing seems to deter you; it barely seems to phase you at all, carrying on your tasks or your cute little babbling as if he hadn’t just insulted you.

Because you’re incessant, almost desperate to gain his approval, continuing to treat him like a god—doing more for him than you do for anyone else, including Daddy—regardless of how many how many expletives and offensive sentiments he hurls at you.

And eventually, he goes a little too far.

    ✰          ✰          ✰ 

The night before Halloween is dark and dreary, thick grey clouds stuffed with rain that continuously drizzles over the estate, brutal winds whipping the tiny droplets against the windowpanes, tiny specks and splatters of water decorating the glass, rearranging themselves every time the wind throws another smattering of rain towards them.

You skip into the living room, full of bashful giggles and muted squeals as Daddy fawns over you, awestricken as he murmurs about how beautiful his princess looks.

His princess.  

Naoya’s not quite sure what you’re supposed to be, nor does he care, tearing his gaze from your scantily clad form before his brain can even register what the costume is, before blood can rush to his cock, before he can witness the shy little smile on your lips and the pretty way your eyes glitter as you twirl for Daddy.

No, the only thing Naoya cares about is the fact that the dress of your costume is way too short to be considered decent, fluffy petticoat barely covering your ass, fanning out to reveal the edges of dainty pink lace clinging to the supple flesh of your ass as you twist and turn.

And he hasn’t a clue what you’re chattering on about, isn’t listening, can’t hear anything over the roar of blood rushing in his ears as he stands from his seat and stomps towards you, strong, callous voice cutting off your excited babbling as he glowers expectantly at his father.

“Jesus Christ, Daddy, you aren’t actually going to let her go out in that, are you?”

“Why?” you ask before your father can respond, genuinely confused, head tilting cutely. “What’s wrong with it?”

“What’s wrong with it?” he repeats incredulously, thick eyelashes fluttering as he blinks several times, eyebrows raising and huffing out a sarcastic laugh in disbelief. “Are you joking?”

Your head shakes slowly, a frown beginning to materialize on your lips as your eyebrows knit.

“It’s entirely inappropriate,” he scoffs, enunciating his words slowly, like you’re stupid.

You stare up at him cautiously, bottom lip jutting out in a pout so deep your chin puckers. “But nii-san, it’s Halloween—”

“Oh? And what are you going as, a slut?”

A little strangled gasp of Naoya-nii! hitches in your throat, your entire expression crumpling at his disapproval, hands running over the costume in an almost protective manner, smoothing it down.

“N-No, I’m—”

“I don’t care,” he hisses. “There’s no way you’re leaving the house in that—go change. Now.”

The direct order surprises you, shock saturating your features before resentment begins to bleed through. Blinking hard, you force the tears from your eyes, expression hardening and shoulders rolling back, spine straightening.

“No.”

“What did you just say to me?”

“Is there something wrong with your hearing? I said no,”

That sharp, self-assured smile drops from his face in an instant, face screwing up from such defiance, such disrespect. “Excuse me?”

Shivers skitter up your spine, tiny spikes of ice chasing them, but you refuse to back down, even though your voice is beginning to quiver.

“Y-You’re not Daddy! You don’t get to tell me what to do, I don’t care if you’re older!”

And just like that, the sharp smile is back, stretched abnormally wide across his lips—like it had been cut, carved, into his handsome face—uncanny and inhuman as his eyes glint with malevolence, words flowing from his mouth slowly, calmly, almost serenely, as he prowls towards you.

“You’re right—I’m not Daddy, because I would never let a woman speak to me the way he allows you to speak to him, you ungrateful little brat,”

A large hand, decorated with chunky, glittering gold rings, cuts through the air, striking you across the cheek with such force you stumble backwards from the impact, nearly tripping over your own feet only to have Daddy wrap a strong arm around your waist, catching you with ease and pulling you to his chest.

And it’s intense, so intense it kicks the breath right from your chest, barreling up your throat where you choke on it as it tangles with a sharp yelp. Hands fly to clutch your cheek immediately, throbbing thorns of pain shooting through the side of your face.

Daddy’s yelling, but it all sounds muddled, muffled, like your deep underwater and he’s shouting from above the surface, despite the fact that you’re clinging to him, pressed up so tightly against his side you can feel the vibrations of his voice in his body.

Naoya-nii isn’t saying anything, hand dropped limply to his side, pretty gold adorning his fingers coated in gleaming crimson. He isn’t even looking at Daddy—no, his gorgeous light eyes are focused on you, on the sticky scarlet leaking from the wounds his rings left when they collided with your cheek and the glistening tears shielding your eyes.

And for once, he has nothing to say, no sarcastic remarks or cynical little comments, voice evaporating in his throat as his chest burns, scathed with regret, remorse, repentance—all unwarranted, undeserved, unnecessary. Because—because you earned that slap for being so fucking disrespectful; you needed it, were practically begging him to put you back in your place, back where you belong: below him, behind him, and never beside him.

Because no matter how cute you are, how sweet and precious and good, none of it permits you to speak to him in such a manner, to act as though you’re equal.

So why has this inexplicable agony taken root at his core? Why does he feel like his heart is mutilating itself, tearing itself to shreds, with each of your pitiful little whimpers? Why does he feel the overwhelming urge to make it better, to make your pretty tears and precious sobs stop?

Inevitable anger surges through his veins—furious at you, for eliciting such bothersome emotions; furious at himself, for being so weak, so vulnerable, and allowing such pathetic sentiments to take over, to rob him of his control, of his autonomy.

And despite everything, all of his rage and loathing and confusion, his hand buzzes from it, from the sensation of touching your soft skin for the very first time, even in such a brutal and malicious manner, and instantly, he craves more.

    ✰          ✰          ✰

You don’t speak to him after that. You stop making his favourite meals, stop asking him about his day and then uninvitedly reciting your own in that cute, excited chatter that is so distinctly you, stop doing all of those extra little chores—washing his clothes and changing his sheets and scrubbing his bathroom until it sparkles. You put an end to everything.

And he fucking misses it.

He shouldn’t, but he does.

It’s painful to admit, but he can’t ignore it, notices your lack of presence almost immediately, that gaping void spreading, growing, as it roars in protest, claiming more and more of his body every day, like some sort of inky disease that only your presence seems to calm, to cure.

It fucking sucks. It fucking sucks, because he can’t stop it, regardless of how hard he tries, an impossible ailment he can’t void himself of. It fucking sucks, because you’re eating him up, consuming his very soul, devouring him from the inside out without even sparing him a goddamn glance—and you don’t even know it.

And it’s getting exhausting, putting up this front all the time, fighting against the intense feelings you swirl around in his chest, in his cock, without a hope, without a chance in hell. Fighting for nothing, because he knows he’ll never win. Fighting for nothing, because he isn’t sure he wants to anymore.

They’re unruly, voracious and rabid, tearing up his chest, his lungs and his heart and his throat, with sharp piercing claws and becoming increasingly difficult to overlook, to disregard.

Still, he’s too stubborn, too proud, to give in, to give up, even though the thing living inside him grows stronger every day, even though he knows that one day, it will overpower him.

    ✰          ✰          ✰

It’s windy—the estate quiet as the wind howls softly through the dense pines outside and ruffles them—the night it finally does, the night it takes over entirely, bursting through the barriers he keeps rebuilding and repairing around his soul and his sanity, writhing inside him when he hears soft sobs, muffled by the wood of your bedroom door, just past three in the morning.

It possesses him, like some sort of eternal spirit sinking deep into his bones and sewing itself into his soul, revoking his control over his body as a sudden, intense need to comfort you, to find out what’s wrong and make it all better, courses through his veins, entirely unaware of his actions as he pushes past the door and into your room.

“Naoya-nii?”

It’s the first time you’ve spoken to him, the first time you’ve even looked at him, since he struck you.

And he aches to apologize, I’m sorry’s and I shouldn’t have done that’s blistering his throat as they linger, just behind the back of his tongue.

But his pride outweighs them by a hair, despite how much his chest stings with the need to make things better, to make things right, for a reason unbeknownst to him. It’s just a sense—vague in meaning but strong in feeling—that longs for reconciliation, that’s desperate to rid your pretty face from the permanent scowl his presence etches into it.

That’s the first time he creeps into your room, the first time he loses his autonomy to the thing inside of him as he takes you into his arms and comforts you, the first time he allows you to cum from grinding on his cock.

Except it becomes a habit, an addiction, a nightly routine, cravings becoming stronger and stronger with each passing night. And for a brief span of time, it’s enough to appease the creature, the short nights spent with you in his arms, body trembling against his as you whimper out his name and his honorific, tangling on your tongue.

Because it feels right. It feels righter than anything in his life ever has, uncharacteristically gentle hands guiding your hips as they rock against his, soaked cunt gliding over the flannel of his pajama pants with ease as you huff out the prettiest little mewls into his neck.

It feels right only when he’s here with you, alone with you. Suddenly, it’s like everything makes sense again, like the world is in colour again, like the planet balanced again. He can no longer deny this feeling, this ache deep at the very pit of his soul that throbs and stings and burns mercilessly without your presence. You’re the only thing that can heal it, that can quell it, that can complete it.

So he gives in. It’s just for the nights, he promises himself, vows never to allow such sentiments to trickle into the daytime, to save it for when the sun sinks beneath the horizon, pledges never to permit these nightly escapades to advance from anything more than dry humping, nothing further than your cum on his fingers and your thighs stained with sticky cream.

But eventually, that isn’t enough, either.

And he was stupid to think it would be.

    ✰          ✰          ✰

The harsh slap of Testoni loafers against stone echoes out among the immaculately landscaped front yard, bouncing off thin tree trunks and being absorbed by tall, thick shrubs. Silver light, cast by the haloed moon hanging high in the clear navy sky, illuminates the garden, the foliage faded and washed out, painted by the moonbeams. Somewhere in the distance, the gentle trickle of water mingles with Naoya’s harsh breaths, cellphone gripped tightly in one fist as he paces back and forth like a rabid dog, small rocks popping under his feet.

It’s late. It’s too late—you were supposed to be home hours ago. Naoya’s tried calling—seven times, now, his phone buzzing in his palm to warn him of a low battery—but you haven’t picked up once. But that isn’t new, nor is it unusual; you rarely answer his calls while you’re out with Satoru.

So, really, this shouldn’t be cause for alarm. It shouldn’t.

Except he knows the man you’re out with, knows what you’re doing with him, and he can’t get it out of his fucking head, assaulted with fabricated images of you trapped under a large man with ivory hair and crystal eyes, back arching in ecstasy, his name leaving your lips in the prettiest gasps, in the way Naoya’s name leaves your lips during his habitual sneaking into your room in the middle of the night.

He’s terrified it’s going to drive him insane, eyes pricking and throat burning as his nose twitches with the threat of tears, eyelids shut so tightly his whole face scrunches up, tense and crumpled every time a new wave of contrived memories of you cumming all over that asshole’s cock crash over his mind.

Copper stings his tongue as sharp front teeth nibble at the raw cuticles surrounding his nailbed, face puckering at the taste and ripping his thumb, glistening with saliva, from his mouth.

This is pathetic, goddamn it! It shouldn’t even matter who you’re with and what you’re doing with them, shouldn’t be any of Naoya’s concern at all whether you’re safe or not, shouldn’t fucking hurt nearly as much as it does, a heavy ache that weighs on his chest more and more and more as each second ticks by, ribs caving in and splintering under the force, snapping into sharp spikes that puncture his lungs and make it painful to breathe.

“This is such a waste of fucking time, I don’t even—” he’s muttering to himself when you step out of Satoru’s car, his internal monologue beginning to leak from his head out his lips, your presence immediately cutting it off as his head snaps up, light eyes paler than normal, practically glowing in the moonlight.

A startled little whimper pries its way past your lips when you see him, stomping towards you with a heaving chest and a growl ripping from his throat.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he’s seething as a large hand seizes your arm, wrapping around your bicep and yanking, bring your face closer to his. “Huh? Do you know what fucking time it is?”

Frenzied eyes search your face, wild and erratic in their movements, sharply zeroing in on the tiny galaxies of swirling lilac and cobalt peppered with little pinpricks of scarlet that’ve been sucked into the flesh of your neck.

He chokes on something—a gasp or a snarl or a sob, maybe a mixture of all three, you aren’t entirely sure—pearly teeth gnashing together. “You’re a little slut,” he spits the word out like venom, harsh and biting as it whizzes past your cheek, slicing into your skin.

“That’s it, that’s all—that’s all you’re fucking good for,” his grip tightens with each word that flows from his mouth. “At least you’ve picked a rich man to sell your pussy to, at least you aren’t a total idiot, just like your mother, huh?”

“What is your problem?” little hands claw at the fingers latched around you, finally breaking free from him, ripping your limb from his grasp with such vigor you nearly fall on your ass, teetering backwards on unsteady feet. “You know, just because you can’t own up and face your feelings, doesn’t mean you get to take it out on me. This,” you gesture between the two of you. “Isn’t my fault.”

“This?” he spits, face screwing up in scorn. “There is no this,”

“Oh my God,” eyes rolling, you shake your head, exhaling a dubious laugh. “Shut up. There’s no one here—you can be real with me, I’m not gonna tell anyone,” you snark, arms crossing over your chest as you level your gaze with him.

He glares back at you, sharp jaw rhythmically clenching and unclenching with the grinding of his molars, large hands balled into tight, trembling fists on either side of his body.

“You know there’s something here, between us, within us, even if you refuse to admit it,” you continue after a beat of silence, voice softening.

His whole form is beginning to quiver and he jerkily shakes his head, exhaling harshly. You think he may be crying, but in the faint moonlight it’s hard to be sure.

Holding your wrist up, you swallow thickly, glancing at those little bumps embedded in your skin, watching the tiny shadows that form when your arm twists. “I have your sign,” your voice is quiet as you look back at him, flashing the inside of your wrist to him. “And I know you have mine,”

A cynical smirk spreads across his lips, but it looks more like a grimace, like a flimsy mask desperately attempting to cover something else, tongue tutting in disbelief. “Yeah, and there’s millions of people in this world with any given sign. It’s all bullshit—it could be anyone,”

“It could be anyone,” you agree, nodding. “But it isn’t.”

“You don’t know that!”

“I do! I know you feel it too! Christ, why are you so—so adamant on denying this, even when it’s just the two of us? What’s the point?”

“You’re my fucking sister, that’s the point. This is inappropriate, it’s wrong,”

“If it’s so wrong, then why do you sneak into my bedroom every night? Why do you let me cum on your fingers? Why do you fuck my thighs?” your footsteps speed up, jogging a little to catch up to him. “Huh? Huh? No answer? Or do you know the answer, and you’re too afraid to say it?”

“I don’t know!” he explodes, whirling around on you and trapping you against the brick, palms laid flat against the wall. “Alright? I don’t fucking know why I do those things. They make me feel sick afterwards, but I…”

But I can’t stop.

But I need you.

But I love you.

Chests heave with harsh exhales that mingle and echo in the garden, your eyes studying his face intently, in a way that makes him feel naked, exposed, makes him want to turn and hide from you.

“I’m not asking—” you start, words catching in your throat and blinking hard to clear rapidly welling tears from your eyes. Your voice is softer, more fragile and weak, when you speak again. “You don’t have to marry me, for Christ’s sake. I just—I just want you to—I need to know you feel it too,”

“Why?” he hisses, acidic envy bubbling in his chest, beginning to erode his resolve, walls crumbling to rubble. “What is there to know? You already have him,”

“But I’d rather have you,” the words materialize on your tongue before you even know what you’re saying, earnest eyes boring into his.

“God, don’t—” eyelids shut tightly, lithe fingers tangling in blonde hair and tugging. “Don’t say shit like that,”

He can feel them, those three little words thrashing in his chest, desperate to claw up his throat and spill from his lips, but he grits his teeth and swallows them back down, letters lodging and forming a painful lump.

And you notice. You notice, because you’ve studied him extensively, have learned to read him—his mannerisms, expressions, behaviours—well.

And you’ve just found his weakness.

“Do you want to know what I think of when he fucks me?” you ask, eyes searching his face in an almost frenzied manner, breath accelerating as you quickly push the words from your lips, worried if you don’t speak fast enough, if you don’t vocalize these sentiments now, you’ll lose him again. “It’s you. It’s always you. I’ve tried—I’ve tried to think of someone else, of anyone else, but you just…you just won’t leave my brain! It’s like a—a sickness, or something. Like a chronic illness, and it’s only getting worse,”

A strangled growl rattles in his chest as he tears himself away from you, fists violently rubbing at his eyes.

He knows. He knows, because he’s tried the same thing, attempted to desperately forget you, to disintegrate the weird feelings you endlessly evoke in his chest by losing himself in women night after night, often multiple women at once, drowning himself in their moans and gasps and soft bodies to no avail.

“There’s no cure,”

He doesn’t even mean to say it, words slipping from his lips unconsciously as he gets tangled in his thoughts, flipping through the countless memories of faceless women of all shapes and sizes, faceless woman that somehow always mange to morph into you.

“No,” you respond, shaking your head. “There isn’t. But at least I’m trying!”

He spins around, gleaming eyes flashing, brimming with bewilderment, features falling in surprise for just a moment before they harden again, varnished in offense.

“What’re you talking about,” he seethes, eyebrows furrowing deeply as his eyes narrow into sharp slits, scrutinizing, analyzing, dissecting.

“I-I’d rather have you, yes, and he’ll—no one will ever compare, will ever even come close to how much I—” you cut yourself off, swallowing the thought, then clearing your throat and beginning again. “At least I’m trying to find someone, though. At least I’m trying to find just a shred of what I feel for you, instead of sitting around feeling sorry for myself, alone and miserable,”

“Oh,” he laughs humorlessly, a callous little sound that viciously tears from his chest, that scrapes his throat and comes out strangled, full of incredulity. “You don’t think I’ve tried? You don’t think I’ve tried endlessly to forget you? To cleanse you from my mind? To move the fuck on from something that had never begun in the first place? You’ve imprinted yourself in the tissues of my fucking brain in a matter of months. It’s tiring. It’s hopeless,”

His voice breaks on the last word, some of the merciless heat fading from his features as he glares at you, eyes almost pleading for you to understand.

Because you’re the only one that can.

You’ve been in this together the entire time, right from the start, from the moment you walked through that front door.

And he’s been resisting it, fighting against it, against himself, all while the current only becomes stronger, only continues to grow in strength and size, and he’s motherfucking exhausted at this point, sick of battling some invisible force he was convinced didn’t even exist, sick of waging a war he will forever be destined to lose.

You’ve broken that wall, shattered it to dust, destroyed all of his weapons of defense and robbed him of his sovereignty, and now it’s all pouring form his mouth, an endless, uncontrollable stream of confessions, of thoughts and desires, of agony and misery.

“But it doesn’t even fucking matter, because I love you. I love you and I fucking hate you for it. And I’ve been trying, alright? I’ve tried not to, I’ve tried every single trick in the fucking book to stop it, to get over you, to forget you—and none of it has ever fucking worked, not even for a second. I don’t want you; I—I don’t want to be, but I’m in love with you,”

It looks as though your breathing has ceased, chest halting in its rapid movements, body gone still, static, stagnant. Your silence is deafening, has his ears ringing and his heart pounding, thrashing against his ribs as it aimlessly attempts to crawl through the cage, to present itself to you, bloody and beating and all yours. It’s all yours—take it, kill it, end its suffering.

“And there’s nothing—”

Surging forward, your lips crash into his, body following as it smacks against his own, effectively cutting him off. Naoya freezes, eyes wide and breathing stopped, entire body turned to ice, rigid and tense, but you are not deterred, arms winding around his neck as fingers thread through the gold and ink at the base of his skull.

“I love you, too,” you mumble into the kiss, refusing to break contact for even a second, lips brushing his as you speak. “I love you so much,”

The confession—an admission he already knew, deep down in his very bones, an admission he can no longer ignore, now that you’ve said it—snaps him out of his trance, and something switches, something breaks. Because then he’s kissing you back, tongue forcing its way through your lips to assault your own as calloused hands find purchase on your hips, squeezing your flesh hard enough that you yelp.

He chuckles against your lips, and then he’s pushing forward, forcing you to walk backwards, too fast for you to keep up, his legs longer than yours, body bigger than yours, stronger than yours.

Even with all of his shoving, you still aren’t moving quick enough for him, clumsy and stumbling over your own feet, whimpering hushed apologies into his mouth, a response to the growls that rumble in his chest each time you trip, your pitiful little sorry!’s consistently being cut off by his tongue.

Large hands hoist you up without breaking the kiss, mouth still attempting to devour you whole, to suck up your very soul, and your legs automatically wrap around his waist, latching onto him.

Either of your bedrooms are too far, and he can’t take it, he can’t wait—not with the way your fingers are tangling in his shirt and tugging, the way needy little whines are hitching in your throat, the way you’re squirming in his grasp, trying to grind against his half-hard cock.

You’re fucking desperate, but so is he, thigh whacking off the edge of the wooden coffee table as he blindly staggers towards the kitchen, tongue hungrily dragging against yours while he does so.

The cold marble stings your skin as he deposits you onto the nearest countertop, hips wedged between your thighs keeping them spread.

Little fingers immediately go for his belt, nonsensical whimpers sounding in the back of your throat as you fumble and struggle, hooking your fingers through his beltloops and pulling.

“Eager girl,” he chastises, a little breathless as nimble fingers find the soaked lace at the apex of your thighs, pushing it to the side. “Nii-san has to prep you first,”

“No,” you whine, pitched high and much too loud. “M’wet enough. Want you, want you now, nii-san, please, just give it to me, been waiting so long, please,”

The words are slurred together as they tumble from your lips, infused with a potent lust that casts a dense haze over your mind, rendering you capable of only focusing on what you need.

Light eyes dart up, holding yours through fanned lashes for a moment, as if they’re searching for any hesitancy, before his lips form the most genuine smile he’s ever given you.

“Yeah?” he huffs out, finally breaking your stare to watch his hands undo his belt, continuing to speak as he shoves his jeans down his thighs and frees his cock. “You think you can take it?”

“Yes, nii-san,” you nearly mewl, gazing at him with blown, glazed eyes and a cute pout. “Please, give it to me, I-I want it, please,”

His gaze finally flicks up, that sincere smile stretched wider across his face, a playful glint in his eye, voice void of any of its usual derision. “You want what? Hmm, baby? Come on, nii-san wants to hear you say it,”

A low whimper leaves your throat and you shift on the countertop, as if trying to wiggle closer to him. “Your cock, nii-san, want your cock, please-please-please, gimme-gimme-gimme,”

It sounds as though you’re close to tears, voice cracking and thick with desire, Naoya’s cock twitching in his palm in response to the sound, and, God, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to that, absolutely adores it when you beg, thinks you sound so pretty when you’re pleading for him.

“You’re a greedy little girl, you know that?” he pants while he pushes in, a muffled yelp prying past your lips. “Shh, hush now, nii-san will give you what you need,”

The stretch is incredible, cute little cunt throbbing around his thick cock as it struggles to adjust to the sudden intrusion, feeling as though he’s going to tear you into two, leaving stinging micro-fissures in the delicate flesh.

Yet despite the burn, the ache that settles deep in your core, that feels like he’s splitting you in half, a satisfied moan leaves your lips, head falling forward and resting against his broad shoulder, fingers curling in the cotton that adorns his torso and pulling him closer, closer, closer.

Because, finally, you feel whole, more whole than you’ve ever felt in your entire life, satisfying an inexplicable desire buried at the crux of your very soul, something you didn’t even realize you were missing until you finally had it.

“S’not enough,” you mumble into him, nuzzling your face against him like a cat. “Need more, nii-san, need more,”

“You really are a selfish little fucking brat,” he grunts as fingers flex on your hips, tips digging into the pliant flesh and gripping, singeing his name into your skin in rapidly blossoming indigo and ultramarine.

“Nii-san was going to try and be nice,” the words, strained and husky, spill from plush lips as his hips begin to thrust, slow and hard, winding back as they draw the force to ram forward, slamming a cry from your chest as his cockhead pounds against your cervix. “But you’re too impatient for that, aren’t you?”

It’s a fucking lie; his self-control had been hanging by a thread, barely restraining the primal need to wildly buck into you, but you just snapped it, just tore the last of his treasured discipline to fucking shreds with nothing more than a few words.

The pace is ruthless, your head bouncing off the cabinets with each powerful snap of his hips, an endless stream of cries pouring from your lips, one hand curling around the edge of the counter as the other grips his shoulder, nails burying themselves in the hard muscle through the thin cotton of his shirt. Sharp bones carve a spot just for him, made for him, between your legs, into the tender flesh of your inner thighs.

“You’re mine, you hear me?” he pants out, eyes so bright they’re practically glowing. “Mine.”

“Yours!” you gasp out, head nodding in sloppy little movements against his shoulder as you fall forward, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing. “Yours, yours, yours,”

Everything feels hazy, almost dreamlike in a sense, vision blurring over with a thick shield of tears that you can’t quite explain, his name and the honorific becoming muddled on your tongue, fusing into one as you wail it out, clinging to him in a way that’s almost possessive.

“Nii-san’s here,” he promises you, voice hoarse. “Nii-san’s yours, too,”

“Mine,” the arms thrown around his neck tighten, fingers tangling in soft gold and wrinkled cotton. “Mine, mine, mine—”

“Mine,” he echoes, hips never faltering even as you wind your body around his, large hands keeping your hips still as he fucks into you. “And only mine—”  

“Forever and ever and ever—”

“You belong to me, were made for me, put on this earth for me,”

Words of confirmation are escaping from your lips, you’re absolutely sure of it, can feel them vibrating up your throat as you speak them—but it’s so much, too much, all of the feelings swirling around in your chest, sending spikes of pleasure and thorns of pain shooting through your veins as they clash together. A sudden wooziness settles over you, brain fogging over as he becomes the only thing you can think of, the only thing you want to think of, nonsensical babbling still slipping from between parted lips in hitched puffs of breath.

“So full,” you nearly sob, one of Naoya’s hands tangling in the hair at the back of your skull and yanking, pulling your face from the sanctuary of his neck and exposing your expressions to his scrutinizing eyes, devouring the beautiful tears streaking your cheeks, the contorting of your features as pleasure washes over them. “M’so full, nii-san, it’s so much,”

“Yeah? Better than he could ever stuff you?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you’re wailing out, affirmations falling from your lips with each brutal piston of his hips. “More, need more,”

Because it’s like an addiction, an innate need for more of him, for all of him, ravenous and unquenchable, that’s always existed within you, that his cock stretching you out, filling you up, has only just awakened.

His aura is positively intoxicating, overwhelming your senses and becoming all you can see, all you can hear, all you can smell, taste, touch. His taste lingers on your tongue, faint notes of minty pine and sharp nicotine dancing with your tastebuds; his touch brands itself into you, bruises and bitemarks carving his name into soft skin; his scent assaults you, envelops you, overpowers everything else as it wraps you in a shackled embrace of expensive aftershave and cedar wood.

A growl tears from his chest, so rough that it vibrates throughout his entire body, and his pace quickens, cock plunging into you and an incredible speed, dragging against that one spot that has you nearly screaming, that has your eyes rolling back and your little hole fluttering around him as a blistering fire sparks to life in the pit of your belly.

You can feel it, furling in on itself with each vicious rut of his hips, each relentless bang of his cockhead against your cervix, a concentrated ball of scathing heat pulsing, quaking in your stomach as it curls tighter and tighter and tighter with each plunge forward—until it bursts, a fiery explosion that buzzes through your veins as your cunt clenches, gushing on his cock as he praises you—yeah, that’s it, make a mess on nii-san—entire body coiling from the sheer strength.

“Tell me,” he keens almost desperately, voice pulling you from the clutches of post-orgasm unconsciousness, hips stuttering for a moment before he regains his finesse. “Tell me how badly you need it,”

And you don’t need to be told what, pleads pouring from your mouth in an instant, before your brain can even comprehend what you’re saying, an instinctual reaction to his command. “Need your cum, nii-san, need you to full me up, fill my tummy with it, stuff me full of it, need it so bad, nii-san, please gimme your cum, please, please,”

The words are all jumbled together, thick with tears and wet with saliva and imbued with delirium, quivering and breaking as your body trembles from overstimulation.

“Fuck,” he chokes on the curse, hips stilling, pressed flush against your ass as his cock throbs, filling you with spurt after spurt of thick cum, a broken whine catching in his throat as endless words spill from yours, peppered with the sweetest moans—yes, nii-san, thank you, nii-san, fill me up, fill my body with it, my brain with it, I need it, I need it.

And he does, pumps you full of so much that it begins leaking out from your abused little hole—still stuffed with him—and down his cock.

And it’s then—after he has filled you up, with your precious little cunt still pulsing around his length, whimpering out his honorific as you hold onto him, voice raw and wrecked and cracking with residual tears—then that Naoya’s sure you were meant for him, made for him, perfectly tailored to him; he knows you were, his very own gift from the gods.  

[cheekygreenty]

His Queen - The Darkling x Reader

bitch, I think I outdid myself on this one. I'm shocked I wrote this

He hated the Tsar. He hated himself, but he didn't hate you. How could he of let this happen, he's never been a slave to his emotions. You were married, no, scratch that, you were the Queen for Saint's Sake. The Tsar had made it common knowledge that you didn't belong anywhere but the Grand Palace, in a glittering gown and a jeweled crown upon your always perfect hair sitting in front of a fire sipping on your tea. He wanted you nowhere near the action or actual Palace life. You were merely an accessory to him.

The young and innocent girl raised in nobility, who caught the old bastard's eye by fluttering your eyelashes at him, longing for his person.

Bullshit.

Aleksander could see your repulsion whenever you were in your husband's presence. The longing eyes as you looked at the doors, the shiver that rattled your spine as his sweaty hand gripped yours, or the increasing sadness in your eyes as the months went on. The jewels around your neck glistened, but your eyes didn't. Not anymore.

He had done some digging in the months following the wedding, and rest assured you didn't belong anywhere near the palace. You were scrappy, ready for a fight at all times. There were numerous accounts of you running around villages, fighting your way through pubs and inns. Your parents, the Duke and Duchess, were downright ashamed of you before your big day. You were itching to drop everything and join the First Army the second you had the chance. You were skilled in ways no noble was; you had street smarts.

Then the late Queen died and you were presented on a silver platter to the King, donning all the family jewels that never sit quite right. The King couldn't help himself, the public blamed the grief for his hasty marriage, 'he needed a companion.' But in reality, he saw what he could have and grasped you up the second he had the chance. And now you were stuck here, in a cage with no way out.

Aleksander didn't take a liking to you at the start. All he saw was what the King wanted him to see and for that, he feels tremendous guilt. He thought you to be proper and uptight and spoiled, so when you approached him the first time, franticly asking for advice about a simple state matter that was dropped into your lap by the General himself, he couldn't help but snigger at you and convey news of the stupid Queen to his fellow Grisha.

He didn't know the King treated you like a child or that all of this was new to you. I should've seen it he cursed himself, for the weeks to follow you were the talk of both the Palaces and news spread to camps on the front.

The stupid, young, ditsy girl who couldn't put together a luncheon for Ravka's war heroes was the Queen. Ridiculous.

He believed it too until he had seen you out one night when he couldn't sleep. You were deep in the forest, tending to your black stallion and in what looked like peasant clothing. You had mud on your boots and your hair was messily braided. There was a tatted punching bad tied up on a tree and another person sitting against a log, breathing heavily and clutching his side. Aleksander never made himself known, just blended into the darkness as he did best but continued to watch you eagerly. Only then did he faintly make out your bruised knuckles and the tears in your breeches.

'Again?'

'Saints Y/N no, I've got a way to go and the way you just bruised my ribs, I've a painful journey ahead of me' mused the sitting man.

That night, Aleksander sent out his best Grisha to collect information and asked Genya to tend to you, but you denied yet again (only after asking her to fix up your hands).

Ever since then, Aleksander has been observing you and getting to know you when he could, telling his Grisha it was to gather information since Genya was no longer garnering the Queen's secrets, but he felt drawn to you for whatever reason. You were the best part of his day; whether it was a simple smile sent his way or you rambling about the ways you avoid being followed around the palace, he listened intently and set the shared memories into his brain.

The General was a mystery to you. With his extremely handsome face and confident stances, he mesmerized you to the point of a blank mind. Whenever your eyes met his, it could be in a room of 60 people, rest assured you were right by his side in an instant. You had sought out his presence wherever you went and clung to it while you could.

But the King had made his opinion of the Darkling obvious, and his hatred ran deep. 'He likes to think he rides a horse above everyone else.' 'He's most unnatural.' You didn't care though. As long as he kept himself away from you and just used his words and not actions, you were fine.

You had gathered a particular kindness for late evening walks before bed, silently slipping onto the grounds of his palace, awaiting his companionship. It might have only been 40 minutes out of your day, but it was always better than not seeing him.

Ivan had pointed out that you had an air of hostility around you every time you were in a room with your husband and your heart tended to beat dangerously fast as if you were panicking. So Aleksander attempted to pull you away from him and distract you from the horrid man, and it seemed to work. He grew to like you and would miss your witty humor when he went back to the Little Palace.

Months had passed and he never grew sick of your presence, ironically he craved more of it. He tried to tell himself that you were just a part of his plan, nothing more, but things got even more complicated. He had accidentally mentioned seeing you that night in the forest, and instead of being hostile about it, you told him you enjoyed a fight or two and invited him to join you. That night, after multiple rounds of sparring and hard hits, he kissed you fervently. And again and again, until you both got past the point of going back.

You acknowledged the risk only after it happened and started to panic. You had an affair with the General of the Second Army. He seemed to be in the same state as you. But before you went your separate ways, he held you in his arms and promised it would all be ok. You believed him.

He got back to his chambers that night and his demeanor changed behind the closed doors. He was so mad. He always swore to take what the King loved most and destroy it before his very eyes, but this was a sick joke the Saints played on him. He needed to protect you, get you out of the Tsar's grip, and hide you away from any harm. There was nothing he wouldn't do to keep you out of danger's way and he knew it. Why did he let this happen? He knew that whatever your ending may be, you would get hurt, maybe not physically, but definitely emotionally.

You had told him of all the things the King did to you, how he treated you and paraded you around. You begged Aleksander to do something about it, to help you get out of that life and back to your old one, but there was nothing he could do and it broke his heart.

'I wish I could do something Y/N, I truly do, but I am not as powerful as you may think I am. The King is still the King' he had told you, guilt building in him.

He was sitting at his desk in his chambers now, looking out the window feeling fidgety. You were late for your evening walk, like really late. Sure it happened before, but Aleksander had a weird gut feeling that something happened. Maybe the King found out? or maybe you finally realized the magnitude of the situation and came to your senses?

He knew if the King whiffed out a sliver of what was going on with his wife and Aleksander, he would rain hellfire. He was a powerful man, the most powerful man in all of Ravka and there was nothing more dangerous than an embarrassed man's actions.

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud noise he hadn't heard in a very long time, followed by the very loud thuds of falling books. The tunnel?

'ALEKSANDER?' your panicked voice reached him and triggered something primal in him. fight or flight. He and his shadows shot up and ran to you but stopped dead in his tracks, the black matter disappearing in on itself. You stood at the entrance to the tunnel, visibly shaking with anger, but that's wasn't the cause of his shock.

'Saints Y/N' He whispered, realization flooding over him like a nasty wave of ice-cold water. Your once ivory white nightgown was drenched in crimson but you were uninjured, it wasn't yours. The huge green Lanstov emerald sitting atop your left hand was smeared in red too, giving it a brown tinge.

'I need to get out of here right now.' You sounded solid and stern, the panic was long gone. The scrappy fighter was back.

Aleksander had always known what to say. But now, he didn't have a single word come to his mind and his body refused to move, he was rendered speechless and useless. This is a nightmare, surely, he prayed.

'Y/N I-I, What happ-'

'Aleksander, unless you want to see my head on a pike by dawn, I suggest you help me' You said as you moved across the room, after closing the tunnel door firmly shut. How does she even know about these tunnels?

'I once heard a drunkard speak of tunnels beneath the palaces, I tried my luck' You said answering his question without even being asked,

Your hands moved quick, shedding yourself of the nightgown and holding it in your hands as you moved to grab his black robe off a chair. Aleksander still stood there, his head whirling with so many thoughts, it debilitated him. He needed her to say it.

'Y/N did you do what I think you did'

'You know I did'

At that moment the doors burst open to reveal Ivan with an alarmed look on his face and his hands raised, ready to jump into action, most likely alerted by the falling books. But he faltered when he saw you, The Queen, covered in blood and holding a bloody nightgown in the most secure room of the Little Palace.

'Great another witness' You huffed and dumped the gown into the fireplace.

'Moi soverenyi, what is the meaning of this?'

'Ivan I wish I could tell you.'

'I killed the King. I have approximately 3 hours before somebody notices him laying in his own blood with his neck slit open' You sighed and sat down, head in your hands. This was the first moment you'd had to process it all, and it was overwhelming, to say the least.

A silence enveloped the room as the fire roared back to life, already having burnt the evidence to a crisp. Aleksander finally came to his senses, moved and grabbed a bowl of water and a cloth.

'Did anybody see you leave?' He asked as he handed you the items to wash your hands of the sticky blood.

'No. I made sure of it. I traveled through the tunnels.'

'And the King? There is no weapon near him?' Ivan interrupted.

Slowly you bent down and pulled a small dagger out of your shoe. Small but sharp.

'Give that to me' Aleksander took it out of your hands and walked out of the room while you continued to scrub the crimson off your hands.

You momentarily looked at Ivan, he didn't look mad or upset. He looked like a soldier.

'Are you not mad your King is dead?' You mused.

'He was not my King'

'That makes two of us' You were done cleaning your hands and moved to clean the ring. Should I burn this too?

'Leave it on. If things go sideways, you can buy your freedom' Aleksander returned. 'Ivan go get 2 horses and pack essentials. Get Genya too. I trust you to keep quiet.'

'Yes Moi soverenyi, Moya tsaritsa' He bowed his head quickly and waltzed out the room.

'Aleksander I'm scared now.....what have I done' You whispered. He took hold of your hand and pulled you into him. He held you tight, not wanting to let go.

'It's going to be ok. I promise. There's a small cottage down south I want you to go to. Ivan will take you. You will be safe. I will right this. I will protect you as I should've done earlier.' He kissed you deeply, letting all of the emotions flow through without the need for words.

'And what then?' You whispered against his lips.

'You be you. Perhaps go to Ketterdam. I feel you belong there... or come back to me when the time is right' He kissed you again, it was sweet and sad. A goodbye kiss. 'I love you, and even though you don't like it, you are my Queen. Forever'

'I love you too' Your hands fisted at his beautiful black kefta as tears dripped off your face.

****

That night you fled, your hair and appearance completely changed. The peasant clothes you felt comfortable in were on your back while the heartrenderer galloped beside you. Os Alta was still asleep as you sped down south, praying to the Saints that leaving Aleksander to deal with your mess was the right decision. That he would be ok too.

Ravka was shaken by the news of their dead King and the missing Queen. Some say she was dead, kidnapped by Fjerdans, and slaughtered mercilessly, others said Kerch merchants had her thrown in the Fold as she refused to give up information.

Either way, Aleksander had made sure you weren't regarded as a murderer and kept his promise to give you a chance to return to the Little Palace, to him.

Also if u can see this fic plz interact with it!! Idk if my tumblr is fixed yet and I need to make sure!!! If u were tagged and it didn’t notify you like last time, plz tell me!!!! 💓💓

Taglist (tell me if u want to be added)

@theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @lostysworld @0-artemis @exo-1204 @staradorned @bookfrog242 @simp-for-ben-barners @keepdaydreamingbb @acciorudolphx

[chuckbass-love]

20,39,42 with Andy Barber?

Hey, lovely anon. First of all i hope you’re doing well and second of all, i thoroughly enjoyed writing this and i hope y’all have a lot of fun reading it. It’s been a hot minute since i last wrote for Andy.

Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Andy Barber x Fem!Reader

Prompts Used: 

20) “You’d better be quiet or everyone’s going to know what a naughty little slut you are”

39) “I’m so sick of your voice. Why don’t you come over here and put your mouth to better use?”

42) “I guess i’ll just get off all by myself”

Warnings: Smut. Sexual intercourse, vaginal sex, spanking, daddy kink, love making (kinda), arguing, swearing, angst and a sprinkle of fluff for good measure. That’s right, used all 3. 18+ you know the drill.

Word Count: 6,796

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @cassercole go check them out💕

Do You Feel What I Feel?

After a long and interesting weekend, you’re a lot less eager to get back behind your desk to work for Andy Barber than you usually are. One reason in particular being that you’ve been dating other people behind his back. See the thing with you and Andy is that you’ve known him for 2 whole years, worked for him for 1 year and been fucking him since the evening of your very first day. He got you the job to work with him after you got laid off.

You met him after he showed up for one of your seminars at college and he gave a presentation on what it’s like to be a lawyer and you just clicked. But it was strictly platonic...until you showed up on that first day dressed in a knee length skirt, a semi sheer polka dot blouse with stockings and heels. He was shocked to say the least. You looked entirely different and he’d never seen you this way before. It turned him on and he let you know it. 

As you were packing your things away and bidding him goodbye for the day, he called you back into his office and instructed you to lock the door behind you before he began to inform you of the effect you had on him. Starting slowly by telling you how he was taken aback by your ability to think on your feet, use your initiative and then just like that, it all came out and he couldn’t control his hunger much longer. 

He kissed you so hard that night that the breath was knocked from your lungs but you loved it, you yearned for more of that feeling and he fucked you so good that you made it a regular thing, without even realising it was becoming one until it was too late. You’d just show up at each others places without a warning and before you knew it, he was fucking you into the mattress and making you cum with a cry of his name.

Now back to the present... you like Andy, in fact if you’re being truthful with yourself, you’ve fallen so madly in love with him that you know it’s time to quit him. He’s like a drug, an addiction and you need to stop going back for more. Hence why you decided that enough was enough. 

You met a guy online, his name is Ashley and he was more than keen to take you out so you happily obliged and sure you had a nice time but there’s just one issue lying in your way. Andy is unsuspecting of your little date and it’s been eating away at you since said date walked you back to your apartment. You know that you need to tell him but you fear that it’ll cost you your job, he did hire you to help you out after all.

Before you can wallow more in your choice to keep things from him, he calls you into his office and you haven’t even gotten any work done yet, you only sat down 5 minutes ago.

What could he possibly want so early on?

“Yes, Mr Barber?” you ask flirtatiously, making him glare up at you before gesturing for you to take a seat opposite him. Which you do.

“So today i’m gonna need you to file this paper work into the data base for me” he starts, lifting up a pile taller than the length of your forearm and now you’re annoyed for real this time. He knows full well that you’re still finishing off the stack from Friday and yet here he is presenting more work for you to do “get it done by the end of the day” he finishes, flashing you another stone cold glare as he looks back down at the paper on his desk, not even bothering to acknowledge your presence for a second longer.

Until you speak up “Andy, you know i’m still finishing off Frid....”

“That’s Mr Barber to you and you can leave now” his rude and snappy interruption makes you scoff as you shake your head at the tone in his voice, he’s not in any mood today to help you out or make exceptions. So you do as you’re told, hauling the heavy pile into your arms and lugging it back to your desk outside. Once it’s on your desk, you walk back to shut his door before he asks, making sure to slam it harder than needed to make it known that you’re angry with him.

He doesn’t seem to notice or care though.

Now to get started on all of this work that’ll probably mean you staying later tonight, just brilliant. Guess your second date with Ashley will have to be rescheduled.

------------------------

You finish off half of the pile by the time it gets to 1:30pm and you’re due a lunch break round about now so seeing as though Andy hasn’t left his office all day, you decide to pop out for some food with one of the other assistants, Stacey. Thank God you don’t have to face him since you have absolutely no clue what could have possibly rattled his cage this morning to make him snap at you like that. The two of you have always had this ongoing joke of you calling him Mr Barber and he usually allows you to call him by his first name until today when that alone was enough to anger him.

It’s obvious that you’ll have to put off telling him about your date until he’s in a better place to receive the news. You’re hoping that since he’s always been opposed to commitment that he’ll take it well but the halt in your fooling around might annoy him a little. It’s not your problem though, he always knew you were planning to eventually settle down.

Upon your return to your desk you find Andy sat in your chair, looking through your work “where the hell have you been?” he mutters as he avoids your eyes “you know what, don’t even bother making excuses, my office, NOW” you jump out of fear as he raises his voice slightly at you for the first time in the whole 2 years you’ve known him. Your anxious body shuffles into his office, scared of what’s about to happen.

“Was i not clear enough earlier Y/N? Hm? Because i specifically remember asking you to have this work done by the end of the day. You get off at half 4, it’s now half 2 and you’ve only done half. Do i pay you to galavant around town with Stacey or do i pay you to do your goddam job?”

In the 2 years that you’ve known Andy, he’s also never made you cry, yet here you are trying your absolute hardest not to let these tears fall in front of him.

“You pay me to do my job and i’ve tried my best to get it done. I-I’m sorry” you stand there awkwardly, picking at the torn skin around your fingernails as you stare hopelessly at your stilettos. “Well your best isn’t fucking good enough Y/N, try harder. You can stay here until all of the paperwork is done and that includes Friday’s load too now close the door on your way out”

Is he actually serious? He can’t be, surely. What is wrong with him?

“No” you stand tall, hands on your hips as you talk back and if he was angry before then now he’s livid with you “What do you mean no?” he questions, stepping towards you, hands in his pockets as he awaits your answer.

“I said, no. Just because you’re in a bad mood for whatever reason does NOT mean that you get to stand here and humiliate me. I said no and that’s final. I’ll do my best to get today’s work done before i leave but Friday’s work can wait and i don’t care what nasty comment you have in store to throw back at me”

His face screws up as he clenches his jaw again, you should feel really scared right about now, that comment might have just cost you this job but you don’t care. If that’s the case then you’ll walk out of here proud of yourself along with one less so called friend in your life.

“Bad mood? I’m furious and you don’t even know the half of it” he picks his phone up, tapping a couple times before handing it to you and walking back to his desk to sit down. You watch the clip in his camera roll, squinting as you try to make out the faces in it and then you realise that it’s you and Ashley. Fuck. He was there that night at your apartment, he was obviously coming to see you and you didn’t even know it. He must have seen you with another man and changed his mind. You feel awful as you look back at him, he just sighs once you place the phone onto his desk.

“Andy, i-i”

“Save it. If you wanted to cut our little deal off then you shoulda just said. I don’t appreciate being lied to Y/N and i don’t fancy talking about it with you for a minute longer so just do as your fucking told and get back to work”

All you can do is turn around and walk away since you’ve done enough damage already. But all you can think about is the look on his face after you watched the incriminating clip. He looked sad, broken even and it’s replaying in your brain over and over. Torturing you. 

This is why he’s been so nasty today, so demanding and harsh. He’s hurt that you lied to him, hurt that you were with someone else, even if it was just dinner. You still arranged a date with another man and went and what Andy has never wanted to admit before, not even to himself is that he really likes you. In fact no, he’s fallen madly in love with you. 

Every waking moment of his life is spent with you on his mind. You even corrupt his dream world too and it’s gotten out of control. Saturday he decided it was time to cut your little deal off and start over. He was going to do it right, confess his feelings, ask you on a date and then take you out and treat you like a princess.

Ever since he laid his blue eyes on you that first time when he was doing the presentation in your class at college, he liked you. You asked so many questions, engaged a lot in the debates and he knew then that you were going to play an important role in his life. And you have. You became close friends, going out regularly and doing things like bowling and eating dinner together more than a handful of times. He enjoyed your company and you enjoyed his but there was this unspoken rule that you had to remain just friends. He wasn’t ready for anything serious and you were still not over your ex.

But then when you walked through his office door on your first day dressed in that skirt, those heels and stockings and lets not forget about that blouse. He was trying his hardest not to drool. One things for sure though, he was painfully hard for you.

When he came to your apartment Saturday and saw you outside your door with some preppy douchebag who was around your age, he felt this lump in his throat form as his heart ached. Sure he expected you to get a man eventually after all you are 24 and he’s in his 30’s. But he didn’t expect it to happen so soon. He also didn’t expect you to have such an effect on him the way you have but here he is, angry at you for moving on without telling him and angry that you aren’t his anymore. 

He feels bad for shouting at you today, for being so harsh with his words. He could see the tears pooling in your eyes right away but he was too pissed off to stop and now he’s almost certain that any friendship the two of you had is gone for good thanks to his vile actions.

Another 2 hours tick by and you’re still working at your pile, you’ve still got a lot left being that he’s included Friday’s in your load too. It’s going to be a long night so you pick your phone up and call Ashley.

“Ashley hey, it’s uh, it’s Y/N. Listen, i have to work late today so i won’t be able to make it” you announce and as he responds, Andy opens his door but you don’t notice.

“Rain check? Uh...” you trail off, trying your hardest to decide if you even want to see him again. It’s like you’re torn. On one hand you have Andy, your dream man. A man who knows your body like the back of his hands and a man who can more than likely take care of you if you just took a leap and told him about your feelings but then on the other hand you have Ashley. A guy who is your age and who makes you laugh a hell of a lot. Before you can even decide though, you hear a cough behind you. It’s Andy.

“Ashley can i call you back? It’s just now’s not really a good time, i have a lot of work to get done”

You hang up the phone as your eyes are locked onto Andy’s and the moment your phone is placed back onto your desk he wraps his large hand around your wrist, lifting you up off your chair and tugging you into his office. You watch as he locks the door behind him before going back to sitting behind his desk.

“You gonna see him again?” he asks, jaw clenched.

“I-I uh, i don’t know. I’m a little torn right now” your eyes settle on his plump pink lips, wanting nothing more than to bite down on his bottom one as you sink down onto his cock but you’re dirty thoughts come to a staggering halt as he speaks. “Torn with what? You like him right?” why is he asking you these things? Is he trying to torture himself with the details.

“Yes i mean no i mean I don’t know. I like him but i don’t think i can date him”

“How come?”

“Because i like someone else, in fact i love someone else”

Andy feels his heart sink further as more cracks appear threatening to shatter it completely. You love someone else and now he’s truly out of the game.

Rage works it’s way back into his body and he can’t help but take it out on you “did you sleep with him? Huh? Did the douche bag get to fuck that tight cunt of yours?”

At first you find him funny, laughing as you look around the room, anywhere but his eyes but then your own rage sets in.

“Not that it’s any of your business but no, he didn’t. We had dinner and that’s it” you state, matter of factly as you place your hands back onto your hips..

“Bullshit”

“Is that what you really think of me Andy? You think i’d just give it up to any guy that even looked my way. Wow, i knew you were a lot of things but vicious was definitely not one of them and what’s that i smell? Is it jealousy? Surely not.” you tut, shaking your head “I don’t think i even know you at all by the looks of things if you thought lying to me was better than being honest and trust me, i’m not jealous in the slightest, in fact i pity you. It’s your sex life that will suffer” he doesn’t falter for even a second as he stares you down and just as he anticipated, you’re the first one to break, looking away from him. You can’t help the way your heart starts to race from all of the fury filling up your body. How dare he.

“I was only keeping it from you until i found the right time to tell you. And don’t you dare think for one second that just because we’ve slept together that you have any right to comment on my sex life. You made it perfectly clear that monogamy wasn’t your thing so don’t be mad when i finally want to move on from being someone’s fuck buddy” you spit, heat rising to your cheeks as you realise what you just said. Fuck.

“I’ll comment on whatever i fucking want to so quit the bitching and yeah, i don’t do commitment but i sure as hell wouldn’t be with you even if i did”

You don’t respond to him this time, there’s no quick comeback to fire his way, no insult that could mean you having the upper hand again. Nothing is left but shock and disappointment. He really said that, he really played on your biggest insecurity. He played on it and used it to his advantage, to get the upper hand and win the argument.

“What? Got nothing to say?” he snorts, smug grin on his face. Watch his smile disappear now...

“I love you, Andy” you finally get the words out and you feel as if you’re going to choke on them and die right here in his office. Cause of death, unrequited love.

“W-what?” he’s practically speechless, his words barely audible.

“I’m so madly in love with you and i have been for a while now. But i continued to shut my feelings out and reject other guys because i came to the realisation that having you in any way that i could would be enough for me even if it meant that i couldn’t have you in the way that i’ve always wanted. But none of this matters now, right? Because you’ve made it pretty clear how you feel and where you stand. You wouldn’t date me even you did date and that’s fine but at least now both our cards are on the table”

He looks up at you, using his index finger to force you to look back at him and when you do, he looks so deep into your eyes almost as if he’s attempting to see into your soul. Like he’s trying to search for any signs of dishonesty.

“Why didn’t you just tell me? Instead of going out with other guys you shoulda told me and been honest about it?” is all he can say and that’s the last response you expected but what catches you off guard the most is how he said it, almost like he was hurt and relieved simultaneously.

“Andy, you’re my boss and you made it clear that you didn’t want a relationship” he has absolutely no right to lecture you about honesty when he’s spent the entire time he’s known you blabbering on about how the single life is better for him and how he’d hate to be tied down again. You roll your eyes as you move away from him when he attempts to move closer.

Silence falls upon the two of you and it seems never ending, leaving you no choice but to leave. The moment you turn around to walk away he’s on his feet too “where are you going?” the tone his voice makes it sound as though he’s pleading for you to stay without actually saying the words.

“I’m going back to my desk to do my fucking job, just like you told me to do earlier” you turn back around but just as you expected, he stops you “look. I’m sorry, okay. I was just mad that you”

“Mad about what? That i went out on a date? I’m a single woman Andy and despite our little deal, i don’t belong to you so you have no right to be mad at me for doing what any other single person does”

He bites down on his bottom lip as he runs his fingers through his perfectly styled locks, messing them up instantly “God, you’re so fucking infuriating”

“I’m infuriating? You really are clueless to your own behaviour aren’t you? I just told you that i love you and you still haven’t told me if you feel the same. So i think that says it all, don’t you?” you stop yourself before continuing your rant, trying your hardest to prevent something worse slipping out. Right now in your state, you’re bound to say things that you don’t mean and will later regret. “you know what, i think i’m gonna take the work load home and complete it there. I’ll see you tomorrow, if i still have a job that is” you raise your brows at him, praying he doesn’t fire you for your attitude alone. But to your surprise he doesn’t.

“You really think that low of me? That i’d ever fire you because of what’s going on between us outside of this office? Wow” he leans back on his desk and his shoulders drop as he slumps over, looking down at his large calloused hands.

“It’s what i assumed would happen. You’re really gonna pretend like you don’t want me gone after today?”

“I don’t, believe it or not. But i have no time to deal with this discussion any longer, i have to leave early today” he says as he goes back to sitting behind his desk again and turning his computer back on “i don’t expect you to stay any longer, you can take that work home and finish it after your date” he mutters the last few words, pulling a face as if they make him sick.

“Really? We’re back to that again. God i’ve had it with you” you spit, biting down on the inside of your cheek before strutting over to the door but his hand stops you before you even get yours on the lock.

“Let me go Andy. I don’t even want to look at you, let alone be stuck in a room with you” harsh, but in this moment it’s true. He’s done nothing but upset you all day long and even after your stupid decision to confess your love for him, he’s still doing it. You feel so defeated right now that you can’t take another second of his shit.

“Just one more thing and then you’re free to go and fuck whoever you want, whenever you want. How many guys have you been on dates with since we started hooking up?” the desperation is evident in his eyes as they pierce into yours, searching again but this time for the answers before you can even open your mouth to give them to him “one. It was only one date on Saturday night with Ashley” and that’s the truth. You would never repeatedly date behind his back, this was a one off. A one off you’re regretting more as the seconds tick by.

An awkward silence falls upon the two of you once more as he walks back over to his desk, pacing next to it and creating a draft. “Are you planning to see him again?” and he’s back with more questions. Why does he care so much?

He clearly doesn’t love you too otherwise he’d have said it once you confessed your feelings for him. Instead he left you looking like the biggest joke ever, the clown. And you feel so mortified for even believing he’d say it back.

Silly little Y/N, always catching feelings for men who don’t feel the same way back. You’re starting to feel as though you’ll never find someone.

But still his behaviour has you second guessing him. Maybe he does like you and that’s why he’s acting so hurt.

“Maybe i will, after all i am single. That shouldn’t be a problem, should it Andy?” you know full well that you’re pushing down hard on his buttons and you can see his cheeks turn red as his knuckles turn white from his tight grip on the side of the table.

“What you don’t like that? You don’t like the thought of me on top of Ashley, sinking down onto his cock as he touches my body and kis -”

Out of nowhere he interrupts you, slamming his fist down onto his desk “dammit, Y/N, what is it with you? Trying to make me jealous? Because i’ve had just about enough of you running your mouth” he pulls one of the chairs out, falling into it and spreading his legs “In fact. I’m so sick of your voice. Why don’t you come over here and put your mouth to better use? Huh? Maybe then you’ll shut up about that fucking douche bag” he is jealous, it’s so obvious to you now. He’s jealous of Ashley, jealous of the possibility of him spending time with you and he hates the thought of someone stealing you away from his tight grasp.

You can’t quite believe your ears or your eyes as he spreads his legs further, grazing his hand over the tent in his dress trousers and you can’t help the gulp that follows.

“Andy”

“Shhh, enough talking. I don’t have it in me anymore to argue with you, just come here” he insists but you stand your ground “no. i can’t keep going round and round in circles with you with absolutely no end in sight and with no hope for you to reciprocate how i feel. I’m sorry but i’m leaving”

Yet again, as expected, he clears his throat “fine. I guess i’ll just get off all by myself”

Like they always do around Andy, your legs turn to jelly and your eyes glaze over along with your better judgement being clouded by x rated thoughts of him railing you. The idea of him touching himself, working his hand expertly around his girthy cock causes arousal to flood your panties. How dare your body betray you like this. How dare your mind do the same. It’s not fair that every time you think you have the upper hand and the dominance, he comes along, snatching it away from you and proving you wrong.

You have absolutely no idea why you’re about to do what you’re about to do other than the fact that your body gravitates toward him like a magnet and it’s out of your control.

So without a second longer to fester or overthink, you spin around on your heels, charging towards him. Andy watches in awe as you drop to your knees and make quick work of his belt. Once you free his cock from the confines of his black Calvin Kleins and into your small hand you spot the droplets of precum oozing out of the slit on his red bulbous head. You look up at him through your eyelashes, batting them as you give the tip a couple of kitten licks before spitting all over his shaft and pumping him agonisingly slow.

“Fuck” he groans, rolling his eyes back as he grips the arm rests on the chair when you take him into your mouth “attagirl, sucking daddy’s cock like a fucking pro” his hands grip your face as he continues to watch you go to work, making a mess of yourself as you gag around him,

You don’t bother to issue a warning before taking all of him in your mouth, all the way down to his balls over and over. Making sure to hollow out your cheeks as you bob your head up and down, your tongue licking the underside of him as your hands grasp his balls. He starts bucking his hips up, attempting to fuck your mouth but you push him back down as a whole batch of unholy sounds that only you can elicit from him fall from his perfect lips, the sounds that are so loud and downright filthy that he has no option but to cover his mouth with his hand, biting down one of his thick digits to keep from exposing himself to his unsuspecting colleagues outside.

He soon pulls you off and you do so with a pop. He forces you to look up at him, his hand grabbing your cheeks and squeezing aggressively “no matter what undeserving boys you go out on a date with, no matter who flirts with you. You’re mine, always have been and always will be” he moves you to straddle his lap before he stands up to move the two of you to the couch.

“So no more dates princess, no more other guys. Because i’m the only one who gets to have you. Is that clear?” he cocks his brow up at you and you nod in response before mumbling a quick “yes” to satisfy his need for confirmation and assurance.

He lifts your knee length dress up to your stomach before he gets to touching you, squeezing at your ass cheeks a little too hard for your liking but you secretly love the way he gets so rough with your body, the way he smacks both ass cheeks repeatedly until you wince from how sore he’s made you.

“God, these clothes drive me crazy. Ever since that first day i met you, i’ve wanted you and when you started working here, i was so desperate to fuck you as you wore these stockings and these heels. You’re so fucking hot, princess and you have no idea how crazy you drive me when you bend over, shoving this ass in my face”

He starts to kiss your neck, sloppy open mouthed kisses on the spot that has your back arching as you grip onto the back of his neck to steady yourself. He’s working you up all the more, turning the pool in your panties into a river. You’re dripping wet for him, desperate for him to just fuck your greedy pussy, desperate to clench down around his cock as he pounds into you.

“You’ve done it before Andy. Many times in fact”

His kisses halt as he smirks at you, that devilish look in his eyes. It always drives you wild “do it again, please, i need it” you beg pathetically and much to your surprise, he does exactly that. He takes your panties, tugging them to the side and playing with your soaked core a little as well as touching your bundle of nerves. You whine into the crook of his neck as you urge him to hurry before he eventually pulls his pants further down his legs to position himself at your entrance better. You don’t even have time to breathe before he’s knocking the air from your lungs as he fucks himself to the hilt inside of you.

The way his pace continues to pick up until it’s rendering on animalistic is causing you to let out the loudest and sexiest sounds, it’s like music to his ears but he can’t have anyone hearing this. He flips the two of you over so that you’re below him, your legs pushed back to your head and you hold them in place. His hand covers your mouth as he slides himself back in, not making any effort to start slow “you’d better be quiet or everyone’s going to know what a naughty little slut you are” he continues with rough snaps of his hips as he fucks into you with reckless abandon and causing the sweet music you make to vibrate onto his hand.

“Yeah, like this? Like the way i fuck this pretty little cunt?”

Thrust

“Bet his cock couldn’t even touch what mine does to you, the way you cry out for more and scream my name every time. The way i can make you cum with just my words and my fingers. God, such a dirty little girl for me, ain’t that right, princess?”

Satisfied hums follow his questions along with a frantic nod as you feel the coil tightening in your stomach, like a knot twisting and pulling, you’re so unbelievably close that you can almost taste the impending orgasm. “Don’t make a fucking sound when i move my hand, okay?” again you nod in response and he moves his hand, smiling down at you with adoration in his eyes before moving his hand to your aching sex. His fingers pressing down onto your bundle of nerves, rubbing firm circles on it and as soon as your walls flutter around him, he knows your close.

“Gonna cum, huh? Gonna make a mess all over my cock? My filthy girl, go on baby, cream all over me”

Just like that, along with his permission you let everything go, allowing yourself to really feel the pleasure. Your walls flutter around him again and again and each time he pulls out of you he spots your juices as they cover his cock beautifully. The sight alone has his hips snapping harder, the sound of his skin slapping against yours bounces off of the walls in his office and you accidentally let out a lewd moan that he swallows with his kiss as you wrap your legs around him to pull him closer “cum for me daddy” your encouragement sends his entire world spinning as his thrusts stagger. 

His cock jolts inside of you, twitching like crazy before his cream fills you up deliciously, painting your walls in thick ropes. You arch your back as your arms wrap around his neck. You need to feel his lips on yours.

He kisses you so hard that your teeth clash, making the two of you chuckle into each others mouths before attempting again. This time his tongue forces it’s way past your lips, battling with yours as he rides the two of you through your dramatic and intense highs.

Once his hips still and he pulls out, he flops down next to you. The two of you are nothing but a panting mess. Chests rising and falling along with your erratic heart beats.

“I love you too” he confesses, making you gasp as you turn your head to look at his spent body, the way his eyes meet yours and tears pool in them has your eyes doing the same.

“Andy”

“I’m not finished. I’ve felt this connection with you since the day i first met you, it caught me completely off guard. When we made the deal for it to be just friends, i was upset. I wanted a lot more but i know i wasn’t ready just yet. But the way you’d draw out laughter from me that no one else has ever been able to and the way you’d boss me around only made my feelings grow. Then we fucked and it was like confirmation to me that i was well and truly screwed. But i kept coming back for more because it was like an addiction, i had to have you in any way that was possible and if sex was the only way then i’d have stayed single forever just to keep you close. I’d have done anything to be able to hold your body and kiss your neck and make you feel good. If doing that as just your fuck buddy was the only way then so be it. But i got to a point where just fucking you wasn’t enough. I wanted something real with you. So on Saturday-” before he can even finish you sigh, sitting up.

“You came to tell me how you felt? Andy, why didn’t you just say that earlier?” you don’t know how to feel right now. You’re so consumed by emotions that your head is spinning. One one hand you’re angry, annoyed and upset that he kept this from you and didn’t just tell you he felt the same when you confessed how you felt. But then on the other hand you’re relieved and happy that he does feel the same. This was never some unrequited love, it’s always been reciprocated and real. 

All the lingering stares you’d catch, all of the compliments thrown your way and the insults hurled at random guys who’d ogle you whenever you were out in public with him or whenever another guy at work would take an interest.

“I saw you with that guy Y/N and i broke down. Then today, i expected you to come in and talk to me about it but instead you sat down at your desk, acted normal and didn’t say a word. I was hurt that you’d keep this from me. I know we both felt these things and i know both of us were unaware of the feelings being reciprocated but you still didn’t tell me you’d even thought about seeing other people and i guess i just expected more from you, more honesty”

He’s right. You don’t have it in you to argue because he’s right. He might have had his reasons for hiding his true feelings but you hid your date from him and that’s a lot worse. How was he supposed to just come out with it when all he could think of was you with Ashley.

“You’re right. I was wrong, i didn’t even think about the effect it would have and i was selfish. To tell you the truth i only went out with that guy because i was trying to move on from you, i didn’t want to keep feeling this strongly with no possibility of you feeling the same so i did the first thing i knew to do, date some other guy”

Andy can’t say he isn’t relieved to hear you admit that preppy college boy means nothing to you but it’s bitter sweet, you saying that you thought your feelings were one sided so you wanted to move on to avoid getting hurt further makes him hurt too. You’ve always meant more to him than just some friendship or some steamy sex. You’re the first woman he’s even looked twice at since Laurie and that means a whole lot more than you’ll ever know or understand.

“So what now?” you ask, puppy dog eyes showing as you await his response.

“I know it’s a bit backwards but how about a date tomorrow?”

God, he really is so handsome, so sweet. His deep and raspy chuckles make you giggle along with him as you straddle him once again, crashing your lips to his, his beard scratching at your face just the way you like.

He pulls away for a second “is that a yes?” once more you shake your head, tutting at him “a thousand times yes, Mr Barber. Yes i’ll go out with you” he wraps his arms around you as he pulls you flush against his suit clad torso, kissing you eagerly and smiling into it. He finally got the girl.

---------------------------------

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[naralanis]

little bumps in the road (pt. 10)

Previously on LBitR...

“Calm down,” Lena whispers, even though she’s having trouble doing exactly that at the sight of the empty bench where she had left Kara waiting not even an hour ago.

“Don’t tell me to calm down,” Alex hisses; the muzzle of her gun dis rather painfully on her back, and Lena would really like to step away from it, but the agent has her arm locked in a vice grip. “Where the hell is she, Lena? She was here when I followed you in!”

“Walk with me,” Lena says, quickly scanning the area--they’re standing in a stiff, unnatural way, and the last thing she wants is to draw any attention, especially when they’re both wearing stolen LuthorCorp lab coats right outside the building. She takes one tentative step away, hooking her arm around Alex’s as if they were just friends walking down the street arm-in-arm.

Thankfully, Alex understands Lena’s not-so-subtle hint faster than Kara ever could; her image-induced expression relaxes into a smile that barely looks forced, and her grip of Lena’s arm, though still tight and borderline painful, shifts so that it appears more casual.

“Is there any way you could have been followed?” Lena asks, subtly looking around them, noting that Alex is doing the same.

“That’s always a possibility,” Alex admits, sounding both panicked and defeated at once. “But I was very careful.”

“OK, let’s not panic yet,” Lena tells both Alex and herself. “Kara and I made plans to rendezvous back at the motel if I was gone too long or if anything happened.”

Alex gives her a look--it’s weird to have a patented Alex-Danvers-look-of-disapproval coming from a stranger’s face. “You weren’t gone for long, though.” She doesn’t voice the alternative.

Unthinkably, Lena reaches out and gently pats the hand on her arm. She means for it to be reassuring--it’s the kind of thing she would do for Kara--the kind of thing she has been doing for Kara over the last couple of weeks, but Alex looks just as puzzled by the action as Lena is.

She removes her hand and clears her throat. “Still, our best bet is the motel. Did you drive here?”

Alex nods. “Great,” Lena continues, mind already working a mile a minute. “Kara probably took the bus back--we didn’t want the car to be seen downtown,” she explains, and Alex lets out an undignified snort.

“That’s remarkably sensible of you,” she quips sarcastically. Lena ignores her.

“What I’m saying is, if you drove here and we take your vehicle, we may beat Kara to the motel, or get there shortly after her. It’s one hour from LuthorCorp to the motel by bus--she’ll switch routes at least twice on the way.”

Alex looks impressed despite herself. “And if she doesn’t show, what then, genius?” she challenges, lips pursed.

Lena breathes out steadily, calmly. “She will,” she says with as much conviction as she can possibly muster in her tone, because the alternative is simply unthinkable.

Alex smacks her lips, slowing her walk as she considers their limited options. “Fine,” she finally concedes, dragging Lena down an alleyway.

They dispose of their lab coats in a trashcan in that same alley, and Alex practically hauls Lena towards a secluded spot behind down another alley a few blocks away.

“You better hold on,” she says, removing a few strategically placed cardboard boxes to reveal a sleek black motorcycle, discreetly parked behind a dumpster. “I did not bring an extra helmet.”

Lena does hold on, mainly because Alex weaves and cuts through traffic like an absolute manic as she follows the directions Lena has to practically shout in her ear as they go. She knows Alex is desperate to find Kara and make sure she’s OK, but Lena also wishes she would ease off the gas a little; she’s got enough to be afraid of at the moment.

She feels like her heart is about to burst out of her chest when they finally reach the hotel; they’re nowhere close to the room she and Kara had checked into, but she’s already fumbling in her purse for her key card. with Alex hot on her heels.

They stumble into the room together, and Lena has to stop, has to take a second to try to stop the cold dread she immediately feels at finding it empty, exactly as they had left it this morning.

Alex begins pacing like a caged tiger immediately. “She’s not here,” she gasps, tapping at the image inducer at her temple, and then it’s Alex, really Alex, looking worried and panicked and slightly disheveled in this empty room, and now Lena is belatedly realizing it’s up to her, Supergirl’s would-be killer, to try and comfort the hero’s sister while they wait.

As if she is not on the verge of a panic attack herself.

“We knew she wouldn’t be,” she tries to reason, keeping her voice as even as she can, though she can’t stop tugging at her fingers out of sheer nervousness.

She’s doing the math in her head, thinking of the bus schedules, of which one Kara probably had gotten on and when; she’s mapping out the routes in her mind, considering the usual trip times, factoring in the average Metropolis traffic at two in the afternoon on a Thursday.

Alex takes one look at Lena’s fidgeting hands and immediately sighs, sinking into one of the beds. “Take that stupid wig off,” she barks. “Blonde you is freaking me out.”

That lets out a little chuckle, but it feels like some kind of hysteria. She takes a seat on the opposite bed, and Alex regards her quizzically.

“Kara said something similar yesterday,” she explains, carefully removing the wig and setting it on the nightstand. “That’s too bad; I really thought I was pulling it off.”

The attempt at humour falls completely flat--Lena can see it plainly in Alex’s wooden expression. “You definitely weren’t,” she deadpans. Her knee is bouncing up and down, up and down, up and down, boot tapping dully on the carpet.

It’s driving Lena insane.

“Kara will be here soon,” Lena says, still tugging at her fingers. Alex doesn’t look convinced. 

“And if she doesn’t?”

Lena has no answers to that, refuses to consider the possibility.

“She will,” she says again, in an almost silent whisper, for her own comfort. “She will, she will, she will.”

Alex says nothing, only continues with her bouncing knee, keeps her gaze locked onto Lena. And Lena, Lena tries not to squirm under the agent’s scrutiny; she fidgets, she stares at the blinking red numbers of the alarm clock, steals glances at the door--she looks at anything and anywhere to avoid Alex’s gaze.

When Alex does speak again, her voice is low, but it still startles Lena enough for her to jump a little in surprise.

“What do you remember about that day, Lena?”

When Lena turns to face her, Alex’s eyes are as hard as stone. Her scowl has returned, and the way her brows are furrowed is far more telling than the cold tone of her voice. It says, plain and simple, I don’t trust you.

It takes Lena a long time to come up with an answer Alex may find even remotely satisfactory--she knows that ‘I don’t know’ that is on the tip of her tongue simply won’t cut it, even if it is the honest answer. Her memories, the few that she does have from that day, are murky and sparse, and don’t feel altogether hers.

She struggles to recall any details, searches the blurred images interred somewhere in her subconscious and tries to make sense of the tangled mess she has been left with. “Flashes,” she tries, settling for as much truth as she can muster at the moment. She swallows. “I remember... I remember Kara falling--I remember seeing her from the top floor at LuthorCorp.”

Alex raises a brow like she doesn’t fully believe her. “The top floor?” she asks, voice oddly neutral. “Not from the basement labs? You didn’t watch it from the screens?”

Lena furrows her brows, tries to poke at whatever remnants of memory she has latched on to. “No, I don’t...” she closes her eyes, sees Kara falling, riddled with green, her body limp falling past her windows as fast as a bullet. “I-I don’t think so, I was... I think I was at the top floor.”

“You were apprehended in the basement, Lena,” Alex says brusquely.

“N-no, that can’t be right,” Lena chokes out, but all she sees behind her lids is Kara’s body falling, and her mind provides the most horrifying sound effect as it hits the pavement. “That can’t be, I watched her fall, I w-watched from my window.”

Alex shakes her head. “What do you remember before the rockets?”

Lena rattles her brain with difficulty; her lungs can’t quite return to their normal rhythm with the images her mind is supplying. “Before?” she gasps, keeping her eyes shut so she doesn’t have to see, doesn’t have to wither under Alex’s unyielding disappointment and doubt.

“M-myriad, the, um, the Fortress, ah... I was there with K-kara, and--”

She’s close to hyperventilating; she can’t get the image of Kara’s body--her bloody, broken body falling, falling--out of her mind.

“The Fortress? Lena that was two weeks befo--Lena? Lena, are you OK?”

Lena can’t respond--she can’t speak, she can’t even breathe. her brain is giving her the most terrifying flashes of memories, memories that don’t feel like her own, and she’s scrambling to fill that gaps at the same time as the images come, unbidden, to her mind. Her mental boxes are teetering, swaying in their little organized, compartmentalized stacks, unbalanced, and she can’t, she can’t breathe.

“Shit,” she vaguely hears Alex say, marginally registers the agent rushing to her side, but then someone is touching her and there is another flash--it is white hot and painful in her brain, like an electric shock, and she feels someone grabbing at her shoulders, pushing her down hard, pulling, and dragging, and, and--

Lena yelps and recoils, bats away at the hands reaching for her shoulders in uncontrollable, all-consuming panic.

“HEY!”

It’s another voice, worried, coming from someone bursting through the door with force, nearly slamming it off its hinges. Lena’s only somewhat aware of Alex yelling--she sounds happy, surprised, worried, and a whole gamut of other things Lena cannot focus on, because suddenly, there’s just warmth all around her.

She’s being held, tight, tight, tight, but it isn’t restrictive--it’s the opposite, warm and comforting and it envelops her almost entirely, like a heavy blanket, muting the sounds of her own frantic heartbeat.

“Sh, Lena, it’s just me. You’re OK. I’m here, I’m here.”

It’s Kara’s voice--low in a soothing murmur, rumbling in her chest as she whispers right at Lena’s ear, and the vibrations are soft, reassuring, and tranquil, almost enough to ease Lena’s trembling.

She’s wrapped tight in Kara’s arms as her awareness returns, slowly and fuzzy. Kara’s hand rubs circles on her back, and Lena instinctively tucks her head under Kara’s chin, seeking more of her warmth. Kara is taking deep, deliberate breaths, and Lena finds herself subconsciously trying to match them at every inhale and exhale, using the pressure of the rise and fall of Kara’s chest against hers as guidance.

When the flashes cease, she dares open her eyes again. Over Kara’s shoulder, her gaze locks with Alex, who’s awkwardly standing to the side, watching them closely.

“OK,” the agent says, gaping a little. “What the fuck?”

Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

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[magpie-to-the-morning]

Pull the Blinds - Part Three

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Pairing: Javier Peña x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 4k

Tags: Established Relationship, Journalist reader, no Y/N, Established relationship, Dom!Javi, female reader, unprotected p in v sex (don’t do that), fingering (female receiving), oral sex (female receiving), rough sex, name calling, aftercare

Summary: A failed raid sends Javi spinning, desperate to take the edge off. Luckily for both of you, you’re also in need of something to take your mind off work. This is the third in a series, but they can be read individually.

Huge thank you to @keeper0fthestars​ for the encouragement, brainstorming/co-thirsting, and beta’ing when I couldn’t look at this anymore. Love you babe! 😘

Part One - Part Two - My Masterlist

Read on Ao3

“God damn it,” you slam your folder shut and tear your glasses off to pinch the bridge of your nose. You’ve hit a dead end on this assignment and even taking the day to work from home, all your papers spread out on the kitchen table before you, hasn’t helped. Tension is radiating down your neck and shoulders, lines of stress and pain only worsening the harder you try to force yourself to think through the problem. Pressing a thumb between your brows eases that tension somewhat, and you’re just standing up to take a well-earned break when you hear someone pounding at your door.

You freeze. You’re not expecting anyone. Normally you wouldn’t be so concerned (it’s the middle of the afternoon, after all, and you live in a decent neighborhood), but between your career as an investigative journalist and the drug war tearing Colombia apart at the seams, it never hurts to be cautious. Reaching behind the sofa, you pull out a baseball bat before inching towards the door. The door rattles on its hinges, the knocking louder and more insistent than before. This is no casual visit. 

“Who is it?” Your voice is level, even as your knuckles tighten around the aluminum and you take a deep breath in, out. Your mind is already spinning through potential scenarios- has someone clocked your undercover work, tracked you to your home? Adrenaline surges through you, your body screaming at you to be ready for anything, and you only relax a fraction when you hear a familiar, muffled, “It’s me.”

“Javi?” A glance through the peephole confirms that it is Javi, palms braced against your door jam, his dark brown hair slick with sweat and his green, DEA-issued tactical vest wrapped around his chest. His gun is holstered, hanging from the leather belt slung low around his narrow waist. No immediate danger, then. 

Setting the bat down you open the door, eyes wide with concern. “Everything okay?” You look behind him, expecting to see the street lined with official vehicles and men bristling with guns, but there’s just his Bronco, parked rushed and crooked against the curb. 

Javi’s already brushing past you so you shut the door and follow him. None of this is like him, not the disheveled state of his hair or the sweat-drenched pink shirt clinging to him, and certainly not him barging in, looking like he’s just come from a raid. You get in front of him, taking in his wild eyes, the way he can’t seem to keep still. It’s unnerving, and not doing a damn thing to reassure you that he’s remotely okay or to calm your own racing heart, but you adopt your calmest tone and say “Javier. Talk to me.”

Finally seeming to actually see you, Javi stops pacing for a moment to answer you. “We had them, we fucking had them!” 

You’ve never seen Javi like this. It’s not that he never brings the work home with him- how could he not? You’ve seen him exhausted, worn out from lack of sleep and endless hours spent chasing leads that go nowhere. You know what it’s like when the seeming futility and endless bureaucracy wear him down, seen him stressed and frustrated and devastated by loss. But you’ve never seen him like this- electrified, explosive. It’s all you can do to meet his raw, frayed energy with your own carefully constructed calm. “Slow down. Tell me what happened.”

Javi gives you the gist. Nothing confidential, nothing that would put either of your professional ethics in jealousy, but enough to see the shape of the thing. A raid, weeks in the planning, turned up nothing but an empty warehouse. Someone must have tipped the targets off, warning them before the DEA could spring their trap.

You wince. You know the effort that had gone into it, the countless hours of sifting through transcripts, painstakingly confirming scraps of rumors whispered through hushed calls. Weeks of work, wasted, all gone to ashes in mere moments. No arrests to show for it and worse, a potential leak. Javi’s desperation makes sense to you now. If one of your investigations had imploded this catastrophically you’d be out for blood, too. 

But of course, there’s nothing he can do about it. Not yet. Not until the dust has settled and the analysts can come up with new leads. Until then, Javi just has to sit with the knowledge that his last several weeks of work have been utterly wasted, that the cartel has slipped from their grasp yet again, and are likely laughing their heads off about it from a safe distance, all while plotting their next devastating move. It’s eating him alive.

His story finished, Javi heaves a sigh and scrubs his hands over his face, still coated in a sheen of sweat. Belatedly, he takes in your scattered papers, the chair shoved away from the table where you were working when he burst in. “Shit, you were in the middle of something, sorry. I shouldn’t have burst in on you like this, I just-” he shrugs vaguely, still looking bewildered and only half present.

“Hush.” You lay a hand on his chest, can feel it rising with every heaving breath beneath the solid tac vest, and tip his face up so his eyes meet yours. “What do you need?” 

You’re assuming it’ll be something like ice water or, more likely, a shot of whiskey. Maybe a shower to cool off. He’s got some clothes in a drawer in your bedroom, maybe he’ll feel better if he changes…?

While you’re brainstorming potential solutions, Javi is staring at you with all the intensity of a panther sizing up its next meal. Before the thought can properly register, he surges toward you, so suddenly your back hits the counter, its edge digging into your lower back as his arms surround you. His broad hands clutch at the fabric of your dress, making the skirt ride dangerously high up your thighs. His lips crash against yours, slanting and molding to you as he grabs the back of your head. When you gasp he deepens the kiss, his hand clenching in your hair as he tips your head back, plundering your mouth so aggressively you feel teeth. It’s only after those teeth nip sharply at your bottom lip that he pulls back, his breathing ragged. 

“I’m sorry, I’m not- I should go.” He hunches his shoulders like he’s ashamed to be seen like this and makes for the door. 

Oh. So that’s what he needs. You can picture it now- him bending you over the counter and taking you, hard, right then and there, using you to work the sharp edge off his temper. Just the idea of it, Javi pouring that frustration into fucking you, is thrilling. Besides, turning your brain off for a bit, giving yourself over to all that fury is exactly what you need right now, and he thinks he needs to shield you from that impulse? Hell, no.

You stop him with one touch of your hand. “Don’t go.” Javi’s head jerks up and he stands rigid as you press yourself against him, your hips touching, your hands moving over the taut lines of his arms. “You clearly need to take the edge off.” He hisses as your lips close on his trapezius, your tongue flicking out to taste the salt on his skin. “And I could use a distraction,” you croon. 

“I’m too worked up- I don’t want to hurt you, cariño,” he bites out, even as he looks at you like he could eat you alive and spit out your bones, still hungry for more. 

Javi knows you like it rough. Hell, he’s fucked you through gritted teeth and snarls enough times to know you love it that way. This is different. This is burning rage and rough hands, the difference between training rounds and live fire. 

You want all of it.

Your lips curl in a knowing smile and you straddle his thigh, denim-clad muscle taut against the scrap of cotton separating your bodies beneath your skirt. You grind down on him and meet his burning gaze. “Not even a little?” 

He growls at your challenge, a caged jungle cat, all sleek, bunched muscle and barely checked savagery. He eyes you up and down, assessing, his knuckles tightening against the counter. He runs a thumb over his lower lip and that’s when you know he’s genuinely considering it. You clench and shudder in anticipation, eyes locked on him as he demands “give me your safeword.”

“Javi, you know what it is.” The two of you had chosen it months ago, a reminder of the vacation you’re always meaning to take but never quite get around to.

He leans closer, eyes dark and grin darker. “Remind me,” he rumbles, clutching the edge of the counter he’s got your back up against. 

Your throat bobs as you swallow. He’s so close. You can see the sweat sliding down the planes of his neck, feel the edge of his tac vest digging into you, practically taste the bitter tang of unspent adrenaline. The thrill of the hunt rolls off of him in waves, the livewire burn of his need sparking an answering flare in your blood. You have to lick your lips before answering in a whisper “It’s Aruba.”

“Good girl,” he purrs, his voice the inescapable rumble of an impending landslide. His nose drags against your cheek, his lips ghosting over your jawline. “And you’ll use it if you need to.” He’s no longer asking. He’s telling. 

 “Yes, Javi.”

His teeth close on your earlobe sharply. “Yes, what?”

Another shiver runs through you. “Yes, sir.”

“That’s fucking right.” Without further warning, Javi grabs you by your upper arm and shoves you towards the bedroom. 

Your heart rate spikes, blood thrumming in time with Javi’s heavy tread marching you down the hallway. His grip is fierce, his expression fiercer, and you suddenly wonder what it’s like to go toe to toe with this man, Agent Peña, in the field. For all his honor and dedication to justice, there’s a streak of ruthlessness running through the heart of him, a need to see the mission through to the end, no matter the cost. Javier is a good man, better than he’ll admit to himself, but that darkness is there. Not a flaw, not really. A smoky occlusion in the ruby heart of him, one more facet in the complex matrix of his inner self.

This knowledge isn’t new to you, but Javi letting you see it firsthand is. It doesn’t scare you. Nothing about him ever could. You trust him, know him, too well for that. No, you’re honored that Javi is willing to show you the jagged edges of himself, to trust you to handle these broken pieces without either of you winding up bloodied.

As you step through the doorway to your bedroom, Javi pushes you towards the bed. “Strip.” His eyes rake over you hungrily, devouring every new bit of skin you reveal as you obey, dropping one garment after another on the floor of your bedroom. He watches, arms folded, still fully clothed, still wearing that tac vest that shorts your brain out. In no time you’re completely naked before him, your body on full display in the afternoon sun streaming through the windows, but he makes no move to undress. He sits in the middle of your bed, leaning his back against the headboard like he owns the place and crooks his finger at you. You crawl to him on hands and knees, letting him pull you into his lap.

“Tell me what you want, querida.” His voice is low and sweet, amber honey dripping into your ear while he noses at your cheek, the deep rumble of his voice reverberating through you. Fuck if that voice doesn’t go straight your cunt.

You squirm in his lap, shifting to straddle his waist, your naked sex molded to the bulge swelling beneath his tight jeans. “I want you to fuck me, Javi. Let me help you get rid of all that tension.” You reach up, start kneading his shoulders, but he tsks and pushes your hands aside.

“Not yet. Not until you’re ready.”

You jut out your lip in a mock pout. He’s the one who pounded on your door, amped up and aching, so it hardly seems fair that he’s turned the tables on you this easily, and yet... 

You’d expected him to take you quickly, to burn through you wildfire fast, but now that he’s got you where he wants you he’s intent on breaking you down slowly. 

Your fingers curl over the edge of his vest, clinging to him while he kisses you breathless. He’s in complete control, every gasp and jut of your hips unfolding at his urging. He tastes every part of you, his teeth closing over pulse points, tongue flicking over every dip and hollow of your body. You lose all sense of time when he reaches your breasts, drowning in sensation, only pulled back to the present when he pinches a nipple or bites down on the full moon swell of your breast. 

He leaves marks as he goes, livid reminders of his claiming every inch of you. You submit to all of it, your fingers scrabbling for purchase over the expanse of that heavy vest as Javi bears down on you. Heat is building in you with every bite and suck and caress, but your body is screaming out for more, more, more. It’s then that it finally hits you- the bastard is doing this deliberately. He wants you as keyed up as he is. That realization pitches you headlong into the blaze he’s been stoking all along and you moan, desperate for more. 

He indulges you, still painfully slowly, more fuel for the fire raging in both of you. Reaching down between you, he drags his fingers over your thighs, already slick with the desire dripping from you. “Christ, you’re so wet from just this. You like letting me do this, don’t you? Getting so worked up being my good little slut.” 

You gasp and nod, whimpering now that he’s so close to where you need him but still not quite there. He rewards you by finally pressing those thick, clever trigger fingers against your weeping cunt. He moves in slow, torturous circles, and you reach for him, try to kiss him, to beg wordlessly for more. He pulls away, chuckling at your eagerness. “No. Let me do this for you.” 

He knows damn well what he’s doing, pushing you to see when you’ll get impatient. You try to wait him out but forget yourself when he slips one finger into the molten clutch of your sex. It’s so good but you need more. “Please,” you murmur, moving to kiss him once more, your hand dropping between you, needing to feel him. Besides, a wicked, wanton part of you wonders what he’ll do if you disobey him like this. 

Your answer comes swiftly. Javi flips you onto your back with a snarl, one hand behind your head to cushion the sudden move. Grabbing your wrists in one hand, he hauls them above your head, pinning you in place. “What did I tell you? Hold still!” He slaps your pussy once, twice, three times in rapid fire succession, each hit harder than the last, leaving you stinging and aching for more. You moan and writhe in his hold, rubbing your thighs together, desperate for some kind of release. 

Javi watches you mercilessly. “Yeah, you like that? Filthy thing. Want me to do it again?” Your toes curl and he takes that as your answer, delivering one more slap to your cunt. He leaves his hand there, tracing slow, deliberate circles around your clit. The sudden tenderness, the tantalizing possibility of finally gaining some relief has you practically sobbing.  

“You gonna be a good girl and keep those hands to yourself?”

“Y-yes, Javi.” 

He pulls his hand away at once and you whimper, realizing your mistake as his expression darkens. “I know I didn’t just hear you forget your manners.”

“Sir,” you correct yourself quickly. “I meant, yes sir.” 

“That’s what I thought.” You know from experience that he loves this, temporarily reducing you to a pleading, pliant mess. He knows the trust this requires, and the way it frees you to give yourself over to pleasure completely. It’s a responsibility he never takes lightly. He always knows just how far to push, what boundaries to test or limits to prod, knowing that’s half the fun. As for the other half...

He works you open, one thumb on your clit, his fingers probing deeper and deeper inside you. Your breath hitches when he’s knuckle-deep, massaging that spot that makes you clench and shudder. He gets you off like this more times than you can count, sending waves of pleasure rippling through you from your curled toes to your tingling scalp. He strokes you and finger fucks you for what feels like an eternity, all the whole whispering sweet filth into your ear. Dark promises of how he intends to take you, to use you, all without filling you the way he knows you crave.

“Please, please fuck me. I need you so bad baby, I don’t think I have another one in me like this.” He’s made you cum so many times you’ve lost count, worked your clit until you’re completely over stimulated and begging for mercy. 

He has none. Instead of giving in, he delivers another harsh smack to your abused cunt. “Tell me who owns this pretty pussy.” 

“You do, Javi, please...” 

“Then give me one more.” He spits and you feel it land, slipping over your swollen folds. It’s lewd and obscene and forgotten the instant Javi lowers his head and licks the sting of the latest slap away. His broad tongue works you mercilessly, ripping another shuddering cry of his name from your lips as he brings you to the edge and shoves you over it once again.

“Get on your knees.” He makes you wait, arms trembling, pussy drenched and waiting while he gets up to undress. He misses nothing, clocking the instant when you clench, your throat bobbing, as he unbuckles his leather belt. Javi quirks an eyebrow and, folding it in half, he swats it once, hard enough to be loud but not enough to truly hurt, against your ass. An experiment more than anything else. You let slip a filthy moan, confirming his suspicion that you truly are this comfortable with rougher treatment. 

“Maybe next time, querida,” Javi chuckles. He tosses the belt aside, along with those tight jeans and every other bit of clothing, rejoining you on the bed. He takes his place behind you, hands clutching your hips as he teases your entrance with the fat head of his cock. You can feel how hard he is, the length of him like steel as he pushes himself lazily against your folds. It’s more agonizing buildup, and even when he finally, finally starts to fuck you, he does it with just the tip of his cock, thrusting shallowly, enough to make you clench without being filled. It’s torture. You try to push your hips back to take him deeper, but his firm grip holds you motionless.

“Something the matter, baby?”

You grit your teeth. If he doesn’t fuck you properly right the fuck now you might actually combust. “I need more Javi, please,” you beg. 

“Yeah, think you can take it?” 

Your only response is a desperate whine, met with a harsh chuckle. “You asked for it.” 

He shoves himself inside you in one savage thrust. Even with all of his teasing, the orgasms he’s already pulled from you, and the slick practically dripping from your swollen pussy, it’s a shock. You gasp, his thick cock plunging into you with a filthy squelch, and the sudden overwhelming fullness forces another climax from you without warning. You clamp around him and cry out, barely even registering the flood of wetness practically squirting from you, soaking the rough curls at the base of Javi’s cock. 

“Fuck that’s it,” he groans. “That’s my good - fucking - girl.” He thrusts into you in time with his words, working you through the sudden orgasm. As if your release was some sort of signal, this is the moment when Javi finally lets the leash of his control slip, fucking you like a man possessed. His hands grabbing your hips hard enough to bruise, he pulls you onto him as his hips slap against you, setting a brutal, punishing pace. 

You’re dimly aware that the harder the fucks you, the more your body slips against the sheets and away from him. Frustrated, Javi shifts his grip, pulling you up, your back flush against his chest and his arms bands of steel around your breasts. His breath is ragged in your ear and even when his teeth close on your shoulder, it does little to muffle his harsh grunts. 

Time slips away again and all you know is the bone-rattling ferocity of Javi fucking you like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. You’re so overwhelmed with pleasure you hardly know when one orgasm rolls into the next, all you know is that Javi has you in a death grip and you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Finally, through a haze of sweat and bliss, you feel him stiffen behind you, his hips stuttering and a strangled groan escaping him as he drops his head to your shoulder, his cock spitting deep inside you. You bury your hand in his hair, mutter soothing nonsense as he spills himself into you. When he finally stills, the two of you collapse into a heap on the bed, his body a comforting weight on yours.

You lay there, in a sweaty, blissed out tangle for several minutes, both trying to catch your breath. Javi recovers first, rolling off of you and gathering you into his arms. He pushes the hair from your eyes, his own going concerned when you’re still too boneless to respond to him calling your name.

Giving you some time to recover, he gets the arnica gel from your nightstand and is already smoothing it over the livid marks on your hips when you come back to yourself enough to speak.

“Mm, feels good,” you slur, rolling onto your side to give him better access. You’d introduced him to this particular remedy when he’d shown up with bruises after a particularly difficult arrest, and it had quickly become a favorite aftercare ritual whenever things turned rough in bed. Javi’s thick fingers glide soothingly over every ache and sting, though you catch his wrist when he moves to smooth the gel over the bite marks he left on your breasts. 

“Oh, baby, was I too rough here?” His eyes are soft with concern and the beginnings of apology, so you’re quick to shake your head no. You roll closer and brush away the sweat-slick curls threatening to hide his face. 

“It’s not that, Javi. I just… kind of like seeing the marks. The gel makes them heal faster, so leave a few for me, would you?” 

He kisses you. “Ok, wild thing,” he says affectionately. “Give me your wrists though, unless you want everyone at your office seeing what I did to you.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” you tease, but offer him your wrists nonetheless. He’s so gentle, cradling the back of your hand in his own massive palm, his fingers rubbing the gel into your wrist in slow, circular strokes. When he’s finished, he raises your hands to kiss your palms, eyes locked on yours with an intensity that makes you melt. 

“C’mere, baby.” Javi pulls you to lay on top of him, running his hands over your hair and pressing kisses to your face. “You good?”

It’s sweet, the way he fusses like this after having just taken you entirely apart, soothing you with the same single-minded determination he brings to every other part of his life, and you bask in the glow of his care. “Yeah Javi, I’m perfect.”

Javi huffs out a laugh at that. “I'll say.”

You shift in his arms to get a better look at him. He seems more like himself now, less agitated, more present. “Feeling better?”

“Much. I feel like I could sleep for a week.” He drops a kiss to the crown of your head and breathes out. You can feel his body relaxing as he does it, proof that he’s telling the truth. 

“Sleep then, I’m sure you need it.” He nods, his breathing already turning slow and even as he drifts towards rest. You close your eyes, about to join him when the solution to your work problem flashes through your mind, clear as day. As soon as you’re sure Javi has drifted off, you slip out of bed and back to work. 

Maybe you both could use that vacation after all…

[writingstarling]

Comfort in You

Adrien needed to get out. He curled deeper into himself as the walls chased down to cage him like a determined hunter.

It was a trick of the mind, he knew. He knew his room was spacious enough to support a relatively large apartment. That it would be impossible for him to be closed in.

He knew. But his brain couldn’t process that.

Today wasn’t what Adrien would call a good day—and he certainly had better. Just thinking of it sent him into a spiral of his own thoughts.

The air in his room were lego blocks he's forced to inhale. Smothering his nostrils in full force. And was it just him or was the ground starting to sway?

“Breathe,” a voice brought him back to reality. Adrien didn’t even notice he was holding his breath.

He had to calm down. Gain his head back.

Breathe, Agreste. Just like the article said, 4 7 8. Inhale through the nose for 4. Hold it for 7. Exhale through the mouth for 8, Adrien did as so.

You’re alright, you’re okay. Just calm down and you can get out of here!

Somehow he had managed. His surroundings were clearing up. The walls didn’t look like they were about to collapse on him anymore. The air filtering through his nostrils lightened in weight.

He was fine.

“Fine” was an overstatement really. He was far from it as it is.

But in his situation and for argument’s sake, “fine” would fit in nicely.

Exhaling one last shaky breath, Adrien fixed eye contact with his furry companion and smiled.

“Thanks, Plagg. I needed that.”

The black cat rubbed his cheek against his chosen’s. Not for long though. Despite appearances, Plagg had a reputation to keep. He couldn’t let Tikki make fun of him!

Plagg did loops in the air before favouring a spot in front of his chosen. His flipper like hands poised on his waist and a sly smirk played on his lips.

“So, you ready to break out of this place?”

Adrien mirrored his smirk with a fresh new glint in his eyes, “Plagg, claws out!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Life had been considerably unpredictable for Marinette. With her secret life as a superhero and the sudden debut of a supposed supervillain—or magical terrorist with the ability to grant people magical powers through the aid of butterflies, Marinette had thought that she was beginning to gain the capability to be unfazed by the unexpected. That with all the bizzare events in her life she became acquainted with it.

Apparently she was wrong.

Never had she expected for a certain cat—or perhaps Chat to be perched on her veranda. It rattled her at first. Chat’s last visit had been... interesting, to put it nicely. It wasn’t his fault per se, nevertheless the escalating events left a bad taste in her father regarding the cat themed hero. The bad blood died down, but finding the very person that broke your daughter’s heart on your balcony would certainly summon a very irresistible impulse to jettison him; and Marinette really didn’t want to explain to Paris why one of their heroes managed to become roadkill near her bakery (the suit would probably protect him, but Marinette did not want to take that chance).

That put aside, Marinette shuffled under her sole protector from peering—or in this case, Chat Noir’s eyes. A hand stationed at her trapdoor as her eyes spied on her partner.

His back faced her as he surveyed the city; his cat ears were flat on his tousled gold locks while he hummed a song Marinette became familliar with as “Little Cat on The Roof”. Her lips twitched into a knowing frown.

Being partners for so long they were bound to notice habits the other owned. At the moment, it was Chat’s occasional croons. Marinette recognised the song as Chat's solace. A safe haven achieved by focusing on the assortment of melodies the song offered. She came to the conclusion that her kitty was distressed; presumably due to family circumstances.

Marinette weighted her odds. It didn’t seem like Chat had noticed her yet—which was good. She hadn’t known what action to take. On the one hand, it would be wise to not nose around and let him solve it in his own time. But on the other hand, seeing him lack his usual jubilant and bright attitude sent a jab to her heart.

She wanted to help. To be of service to him like the terrible jokes and over the top shenanigans he did for her. No matter how stubborn she was to clung to her sour mood, he would do almost everything that came to mind to alleviate her spirits. She wanted to do the same for him.

“Marinette?”

The mentioned girl tensed before sighing internally. She knew she was bound to be spotted (HA!) somehow, though she did wish it would be from her own volition rather than a slip aided by Chat’s observation skills. Marinette didn’t loiter on that thought longer and pulled herself up. Red bloomed on her cheeks as the crisp autumn air caressed her skin while embarrassment added an even darker shade of red.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to spy,” she found great interest in the floor as her fingers busied themselves by connecting and disconnecting themselves, stealing peeks as she did.

She expected, hoped, for him to take the chance to chaff her of having an infatuation on him or alleging her of being stunted by his self-proclaimed dashing looks (Marinette has thrown herself into a spiral of denial), albeit begrudgingly. She had, because if he did—there lied a glimmer of hope that it would be easier to buoy her partner. Chat, however, had other plans in mind.

Chat offered her a smile. Impeccably centered and hollow like a well crafted porcelain doll, “It’s okay, it was rude of me to steal your balcony.”

Internally Marinette cringed at the sight. Her stomach wrapped itself in knots of discomfort. It reminded her of the smile Adrien would plaster whenever Chloe or Lila claimed possession of him. That night Marinette vowed that she would never let that smile abide on either boys ever again.

“It’s all right,” she spoke as her feet planted herself next to him.

A pregnant pause held them hostage. Both fearful of breaking the fragile semblance of peace between them despite the mutually felt inquietude.

“So,” Marinette threaded with rightfully earned prudence. Voice soft and light like footsteps on thin ice.

“...So...”

“I have some croissants.”

Finally a piece of her kitty came to light in the form of a grin on his lips and a glint in his eyes.

“You would indulge this poor stray to the finest pastries in the world? Truly, you are the most a-meow-zing purr-incess in the world!”

Marinette fought the giggle bubbling in her throat with no success before sending him a playful glare coupled by a smirk that flourished nothing but friskiness, “Careful now, those awful puns might just cost you.”

Chat’s hand sought his heart above the magical leather suit as an overly inflated gasp found freedom from his peach pink lips.

“How could you Purr-incess! My puns are widely ad-mew-tted to be fur-ry paw-esome,” he retaliated, voice brimmed with feigned smugness.

Snacks and chagrins were soon forgotten as they fell into an easy rhythm of banter. Jabs aimed to Chat’s puns would immediately be reciprocated with a flimsy defense along with an additional pun. Each one personally designed to perturb her further into submission. But despite it, Marinette couldn’t brush away the warmth buzzing through her entire body as they went back and forth. The once brisk air nipping at her skin replaced by a fervour akin to a hug from a dear friend.

After a particularly long laughter from both parties as Chat had finally managed to delivered a humorous pun - “EXCUSE mew Purr-incess, my puns are always funny!” - they settled in another lapse of silence. Consisted of feather lightness and melodic sweetness.

The city was exceptionally beautiful, they had agreed. Perhaps it was due to the occurrence of a full moon, offering the city a better lighting to its beauty; perhaps it was the fiery orange lining the streets with its playful gradient; or perhaps the most immediately discarded thought in their heads, the company they had.

It was a territory they never dared to venture. A land littered with minefields yet to be discovered, yet to explode with much more uncertainty and a set of emotions they were far too fearful to label. Because trying to label the unknown might shatter the bits of understanding of their emotions they barely possessed. Putting the hesitantly glued pieces into shambles; and as a teenager finding their place in the world, it was a risk they were walking eggshells on.

Neither allowed themselves to loiter on the thought longer than a second.

“I, I should get going.” Perhaps it was her imagination, perhaps it was reality how Chat’s ears drooped as he spoke.

“Uh, yeah, it's getting late...”

Chat took the initiative to climb the rails of her balcony, hunched and ready to set off. Baton in hand and his leather-covered thumb hovering over the button to extend it the moment he leaps.

Swivelling his head to face the pig-tailed girl, he gave her a smile, genuine and sincere. “Thanks Marinette, I’ll see you next time.”

For reasons unkown to Marinette herself, a giggle burst forth from her throat. Tickling the air around them with her bubbly laughter. All at once, the air felt warmer to Chat Noir.

“Sure thing, you silly cat.”

Marinette had expected for Chat Noir to make his way. However, still he was in his previous position, unmoving. Marinette was one breath away from uttering her worries when Chat Noir’s voice cut through the air in slight whispers timid and uncharacteristic.

“Can I,” he paused for a minute, but persevered nonetheless, “can I come here again?”

The question sounded child-like in Marinette’s ears. Like a shy little kid trying to make friends while shouldering a large fear of rejection. He sounded so small, so vulnerable.

Marinette took a breath to ease the tenseness she felt from Chat’s question. She needed to deliver an answer appropriate from her words down to her tone in order to fully put Chat at ease.

Gentle and fluffy, sweeter than all the candies in the world with a tone of loveliness, she spoke. “You’re always welcomed here, Chat.”

A weight could visibly be seen lifted off Chat’s shoulders. Shoulders once guarded and fearful of rejection came to relax for the first time that night. With a nod, Chat finally made his way back to his house.

The journey was something he didn’t desire, but he can’t impose Marinette with his overdue stay. At the very least, he came back with a new feeling better than anything he had in a long time. A feeling of warmth buzzing in his heart. Perhaps, he’s finally starting to remember the feeling of home again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

HAHAHAHA SO-

I uh, I forgot about this thing’s existence and neglected it for 2 years...

Well so that’s also why the writing style is a bit screwed up but I tried and honestly I was too lazy to rewrite the whole thing so you can have this mess instead ❤️.

[refinedbuffoonery]

Flawless (1)

A Heist/Ocean’s 8 AU // Masterlist 

This story has been rattling around in my head for months now, and I’m so excited to finally share it with you! I’ve been describing this as an Ocean’s 8 AU, but it’s based more on the concept of the movie than the actual plot, although a few of the basic scenes are the same. Regardless, I have big plans for these girls. Content warnings for this fic are listed on the masterlist (link above). 

*****

“Good morning,” the parole officer said. “Please state your name for the record.” 

“Riley Davis.” 

“Thank you. Miss Davis, the purpose of this hearing is to determine whether you are likely to break the law again if released. According to the record, this is your first conviction, and you have never been suspect in another criminal investigation. During your time in prison, you kept to yourself and were well behaved.” The man looked up from her file. “As you know, parole is not a right. Parole is an immense privilege, Miss Davis, one you should not take lightly.” 

“I agree,” she said. 

“Good. What would you do if released?” 

Riley paused, thinking through her answer. “I would settle down, find a good job, fall in love, maybe have kids. I’ve learned my lesson, sir. It was a mistake. Now all I want is to lead a simple, happy life.” She placed one hand over the other, crossing her fingers on her covered hand. 

He squinted at her for a long time, like he was trying to read her mind. Riley painted her face in remorse. After several minutes, the parole officer relented and, apparently satisfied with her answers, said, “Very well.” 

Riley breathed a sigh of relief. By the end of the day, she’d be free. 

The officer continued, “The following are the conditions of your parole. You will report to me, in person, every two weeks until your parole period has ended. You may not cross state lines without my express permission. You must find and maintain steady employment. You may not use drugs or alcohol, nor enter any drinking establishments. You may not possess firearms or other weapons, and you may not associate with other persons with criminal records. In addition, you must obey all federal, state, and local laws, and generally be an upstanding citizen. If you do not follow these rules, Miss Davis, you will find yourself back in custody. Do I make myself clear?” 

Riley nodded. So close. “Yes, sir.” 

Extending his hand, the parole officer said, “Congratulations, Miss Davis. You are now a conditionally free woman.” 

“Thank you.” Riley shook his hand. 

The rest was all a blur. One minute she was sitting in a cold, metal chair with her wrists cuffed to a table, and before she knew it, Riley found herself changing out of her atrocious orange jumpsuit and pulling on skinny jeans and her buttery soft black leather jacket. Wearing real clothes didn’t hide the fact that she looked like shit, but in that moment Riley didn’t care. She was getting out of prison. 

After two years, one month, and four days, she was finally being released from prison. 

Two officers walked her to the exit. Opening the door, Riley squinted in the bright afternoon sunlight. She found herself in one last cage of chain-link fences with coils of barbed wire arching over the tops, and Riley quickened her steps through the open gate in front of her. 

A familiar face waited in the parking lot, perched on the back of a motorcycle. “Welcome back,” Nikki Carpenter said. The pair shared a conspiratorial grin. 

Riley hadn’t known who the officers called to pick her up, but perhaps her best friend coming to take her home was the universe’s repayment for the last two years. Nikki handed Riley a helmet before putting on her own and swinging her leg over the sleek, white bike. 

Riley started to put the helmet on and hesitated. She turned, looking back at the concrete cage she’d spent the last two years of her life in. Even though her sentence was only three years, the nagging voice in the back of her mind had reminded her every day that she might not make it out. Taking a shaky breath, Riley vowed to herself that she would die before finding herself on the wrong side of those fences and walls again. 

Never again. No matter what. 

Nikki must’ve noticed her hesitation, because she rested a hand on Riley’s shoulder. “You okay?” 

Still facing the prison, Riley couldn’t form the words to respond. 

“Hey. Thank you,” Nikki added softly. 

Riley didn’t want to deal with the implications of that ‘thank you.’ Not yet. Finally tearing her eyes away, she said, “Let’s get out of here.”

*****

“God, I need a drink,” Riley said as soon as they entered Nikki’s cozy two-bedroom apartment. Located in the heart of downtown LA, it was on the top floor of her building, so Nikki wasn’t subject to loud overhead neighbors stomping and dropping things in the middle of the night, but the elevator moved at a glacial pace and descending twelve flights of stairs was a bitch. Riley preferred residences that were easier to vacate—in case of emergency or unfortunate run-in with the feds—but it was nice enough. 

Nikki raised her eyebrows. “Isn’t avoiding alcohol a condition of your parole?” 

Riley shot her a withering glare and strode into the kitchen. She opened the white-painted cabinet above the stove, revealing Nikki’s extensive stockpile of wine and hard liquor, and dug around until she found the mason jar full of moonshine hidden in the back. Taking a big swig, Riley held Nikki’s gaze, daring her best friend to try to stop her. 

Nikki simply opened the fridge, pulled out some sort of leftovers, and put them in the microwave. While she waited, Nikki studied her. This is what it feels like to be an animal at the zoo, Riley thought as she squirmed under her friend’s scrutiny, crossing her arms over her chest. Riley took another big gulp of moonshine, letting the clear liquid burn her throat and make her stomach churn. 

The microwave beeped. Nikki grabbed a fork and the food and held it out to Riley. Content to doom herself to the worst hangover of her life, Riley shook her head in dismissal. 

“Eat,” Nikki commanded. She tugged on the waistband of Riley’s jeans. “You and I both know those weren’t mom jeans when you bought them.” 

Riley blinked. She’d eaten less while in prison, but it never seemed like a big deal. But the way Nikki was looking at her...she might as well have turned into a skeleton. Suddenly self-conscious, Riley obediently traded her drink for the food—lasagna, she realized—and settled onto the couch. 

After two years of cardboard-flavored prison food, the lasagna tasted like heaven. 

Riley waited until Nikki was mid-gulp before announcing, “I’ve got a plan.” Her best friend nearly choked. “Want to help me get the gang back together?” 

“What’s your plan?” Nikki ground out between coughs. 

Riley grinned. “I figure it’s time we go on that little trip to Paris we’ve always talked about.” 

Nikki shook her head. “Damn, you’re one crazy bitch, Riley Davis. You know that?” She paused, contemplating. “I’m in.” Handing back the moonshine, Nikki added, “But tonight, I say we get drunk and celebrate your freedom. Deal?” 

“Deal.” 

Thirty minutes in, they’d finished the whole jar of moonshine, and Riley’s head spun. She stumbled into the kitchen in search of water, suddenly grateful Nikki had made her eat a substantial meal before drinking. 

“So,” Riley slurred. “How’s it going with that boyfriend of yours? The cute blonde one.” 

Nikki groaned. “You mean the big fat liar? Fabulous.” 

“So it all blew up in smoke.” 

“You have no idea.” Nikki shoved a handful of popcorn in her mouth. “Anyway, I’m back to being single, but Sam and Desi are still as insufferable as ever.” 

“Think they’ll get married?” 

“No way. That’s just one more thing they’d have to deal with if they ever have to fake their own deaths.” 

“On the contrary,” Riley drawled, “they should take out disgustingly large life insurance policies and then take turns faking their deaths every time they run out of money.” The idea sounded flawless to her drunk brain. “I’ll help them with their new identities for a cut.” 

“How big?” 

“Twenty percent.” 

Nikki snorted. “Like they’d ever agree to that.” 

Riley snuggled up to Nikki as they settled in to watch a movie, ducking under Nikki’s arm and using her boobs as a pillow. As Riley’s eyes caught Nikki’s laptop charging on a nearby table, her friend’s babbling about what chick-flick to watch faded into white noise. Riley’s fingers twitched. It’d been too long since she had the comfort of a keyboard beneath the pads of her fingers—since she felt powerful, the way Riley always did when armed with a computer. 

Too long, in fact, since she’d had any agency at all. Riley banished the thought before Nikki could notice where her attention had wandered. 

The movie turned out to be one they’d seen a thousand times, but Riley didn’t mind. Honestly, she needed the familiarity, not that she would admit that to Nikki. Even drunk, Riley loathed to reveal any sort of weakness, no matter how small and insignificant. 

Nikki pinched her side. “You’re brooding. Stop it.” Riley grumbled, but she let the movie distract her all the same. 

When the credits rolled, Riley glanced up at Nikki and found her friend already staring down at her as she rubbed Riley’s head. That caged animal feeling resurfaced. It was moments like these when Riley hated how well Nikki knew her, making it that much harder to hide everything going on in her head. 

In an attempt to escape, she said, “I’m thirsty. Let’s celebrate.” Riley forced a giggle as she walked back to the kitchen, grabbing two wine glasses from the cabinet. Everything in Nikki’s kitchen was exactly where it was two years ago, the layout as familiar to her as her own. Did she still have her own? Riley was too drunk to remember what happened to the spacious penthouse apartment of a convicted felon. 

“Riles, nooooooooo,” Nikki whined. “We are so drunk already. We cannot drink any more.” 

“Relax.” Riley rummaged through the fridge, pulling out the milk and a bottle of chocolate sauce. She filled the wine glasses with milk, then added an ungodly amount of chocolate, giggling again when the bottle made a fart noise. Riley didn’t mix it very well, but she was too drunk to care. “Your chocolate milk, milady.” She held out the better mixed of the two, keeping the worse one for herself. Nikki accepted. 

Riley held up her glass in a toast. “To freedom,” she said. “And doing whatever the fuck we want.”

*****

“Phone,” Riley demanded the next morning. Nikki handed hers over without even looking up from the scrambled eggs she was making. Riley unlocked it on the first try. “You haven’t changed your password in the last two years? C’mon, you know better than that!” 

“My password is twenty-nine characters long! I don’t think anyone is going to…Wait you still remember it?” 

Riley scrolled through Nikki’s contacts with one hand, the other busy stuffing her face with toast. “Obviously,” she said through a mouthful of cinnamon swirl bread. 

“Damn,” Nikki muttered, turning back to her eggs. 

Riley found the name she was looking for. Desi Nguyen. The call nearly went to voicemail before the woman on the other end snarled, “What?” 

Riley couldn’t help her grin. “I’m out, and I’ve got a job.” 

“Good for you. Let me know how long you last living the clean life.” 

“No, you jackass. A job. You in?” 

Desi didn’t even hesitate. “Hell yeah I’m in.” 

“Great,” Riley said, “and since I’m assuming Cage’s mouth is too occupied to answer, tell her I say hello.”

“Fuck off,” Desi growled, but it came out just a tad breathless. She hung up before Riley could make a snarky comment about being right. 

“So,” Nikki asked. She dumped the scrambled eggs on two plates. “Are they in?” 

“They’re in.” Riley smirked, gratefully accepting her plate. She sat down at the kitchen table and resumed scrolling through Nikki’s contacts. Riley reached the bottom of the list, but the name she was looking for wasn’t there. Riley checked again to make sure she hadn’t overlooked it. 

“Why isn’t Leanna’s number in your phone?” Nikki kept eating. “Nik,” Riley pressed. “Why don’t you have her number? What happened while I was...gone?” If Nikki noticed how she’d stumbled over the last word, her friend didn’t let on. 

“Leanna got out. Got clean. She’s CIA now.” Nikki’s cold stare was clear. Do not ask me about this again. 

“Oh.” Riley hadn’t seen that coming. “How the hell did she pull that off?” 

“She’s good at making people disappear,” Nikki said matter-of-factly. “Guess she finally used her skills on herself.” There was more Nikki wasn’t saying, but Riley didn’t push her. 

They ate their scrambled eggs in silence. 

As she cleared their plates, Nikki said, “So tell me about this plan of yours. Are we really doing it?” 

“If by ‘it’ you mean the heist of a lifetime, then yes. We are absolutely doing it.” Riley swung her feet onto Nikki’s now-vacated chair. “I had two long years to figure out exactly how to pull it off. All I need now is my team.” 

Nikki raised an eyebrow. “Your team? Last I checked, the Five Eyes were our team.” 

Rolling her eyes, Riley snarked, “Semantics.” 

“Whatever.” Nikki was clearly upset, but Riley couldn’t bring herself to care. “I’m going to take a shower.” 

“Don’t drown,” Riley replied automatically. 

As soon as she heard the rush of water moving through the pipes, Riley snatched Nikki’s laptop. Once again, the password was still the same. Nikki took long showers, so Riley figured she had at least thirty minutes to find the information she needed. 

Hacking into the CIA’s employee database was all too easy for someone like Riley Davis. She practically had the secrets of the universe at her fingertips, but Riley didn’t waste time snooping. All she cared about was one name: Leanna Martin.

[quiverwingduck]

Gosalyn being sick is something Drake and Launchpad can handle. However, there are some aspects of parenthood they still struggle with... 

(Mallard-McQuack oriented fic, no trigger warnings, 1626 words. Click here for AO3 link and here for Twitter link.)

Drake Mallard was a good father. He was a great many things that Launchpad found himself enduring with a set jaw and an aching heart, but when it came to Gosalyn, Drake worked himself into knots trying to do the best that he could. Or trying to make up for his misgivings.

Through rain, sleet, and snow, whining and moaning all the while, Drake would drag Launchpad out on patrol every single night. Sometimes Drake would be so wounded from a previous fight that Launchpad would be taking him to work in a wheelchair, loopy on painkillers, and still, he would insist on going. But when Gosalyn came home from school with no voice and a cough that rattled deep in her chest, Launchpad was not surprised when Drake caught him by the arm and announced they were staying home.

“Sure thing, DW,” Launchpad answered dutifully. There was a crease of worry in Drake’s brow, a weariness in his eyes. Launchpad covered Drake’s hand with his own and squeezed. “You stay with her,” he added softly. “I’ll get some soup cooking.”

Gosalyn was a world-class faker, but never after school, and even she couldn’t have faked the way her whole body shook with every cough, the hollow, painful rasping that came out when she tried to speak. Drake held her in his lap, propped up against his chest to make her sit upright while he spooned a viscous red medicine into her mouth and let her chase it with as much of the soup as she could get down. Looking sick with worry himself when she winced against the burn of it.

Launchpad watched Drake touch the back of his hand to her forehead, and flash him a look. Like a dance, they both sprung into action, Drake rising from the couch and holding her up to him, Launchpad feeling her forehead as well and nodding gravely. Drake passed her into Launchpad’s arms in one fluid motion, Launchpad cradling her tiny body so effortlessly as he followed Drake into the kitchen, keeping her secure while Drake buzzed all around him. Thermometer under her tongue and a damp, cool wash cloth draped over her forehead. Gosalyn’s eyes sunk shut as they waited for the thermometer to beep, head resting heavily in the crook of Launchpad’s arm.

Launchpad watched his partner deflate reading the number, all the tension fueling the flurry of activity a moment ago escaping him. “It’s a little high,” Drake said gently. “But we don’t need to go back to the doctor. Yet.”

“We’ll check again in an hour,” Launchpad added absent-mindedly, more focused on watching Gosalyn dozing in his arms. They both knew the routine. Every step memorized.

Gosalyn’s eyes cracked open, gaze shifting lazily from Launchpad’s face to Drake’s. “Can I sleep in your guys’ room?” she asked, voice scratchy and dry.

Launchpad said nothing. He often didn’t know what to say in moments like these, and often he didn’t have to, because Drake couldn’t shut up if he tried. He watched Drake flush, turning almost as pale as poor Gosalyn.

“Who said we’re sleeping in the same room?” Drake asked, fighting a stammer and failing to keep his tone from shooting up an octave the way it always did when he lied.

Gosalyn smiled, ever the conniver, even now, unable to resist teeing Drake up so she could take a swing. “The guys who delivered that king size bed last month did,” she said, her taunt turning sour when she ran out of air and started coughing harshly against Launchpad’s sleeve.

If she hadn’t been so sick, this would’ve turned into an argument between them, Launchpad was sure. But Drake didn’t have it in him, even if Gosalyn was willing to fight him to the grave just to have the last laugh. Drake sighed, hand on her chest to feel how shallow she was breathing, and looked up at Launchpad in a silent plea.

“Sure thing, DW,” Launchpad answered dutifully.

Upstairs, Drake grabbed the blanket from Gosalyn’s room and tossed it over their own bed, Launchpad plopping Gosalyn’s shivering form down on it so that Drake could swaddle her up nice and snug. Launchpad took the scarf from around his own neck and wrapped it around hers. Gosalyn tucked her beak into the fabric of the scarf and breathed in.

“Smells like the garage,” she whispered, eyes closed. Launchpad was standing frozen at the side of the bed, same spot he’s slept in for the last four weeks, suddenly unsure if he was still welcome, unsure if he should intrude on this family moment.

“Heh, yeah, sorry kiddo,” Launchpad stammered.

“Reminds me of you.”

Drake grumbled, pulling the bundle that was his daughter against him as he shuffled under the covers. “What she means is you always smell like dirt and oil,” he snipped.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “It’s nice.”

Drake rolled his eyes, but also extended his arm, beckoning Launchpad to lay down. So he did.

They laid on their sides, facing one another, with Gosalyn pressed between them. Drake reached his arm over her and set his hand on Launchpad’s side, and Launchpad followed suit, able to wrap his arm around the both of them with no trouble. Gosalyn’s shivering began to ebb, surrounded by the warmth of her father and... her Launchpad.

Drake pressed a kiss to her cheek, and then she turned her head, gazing expectantly at Launchpad. When he didn’t act, her glare sharpened. “Ahem,” she rasped, her voice so small and so weak and yet still so ferocious. “Well?”

Behind her, Drake was staring at him as well, an unreadable expression. It filled Launchpad with anxiety. Still, he gave Gosalyn’s cheek the meekest little kiss he could muster, and finally she smiled at him, settling between them.

“Goodnight,” she mumbled, eyes closing. And still, Drake stared at him, unmoving, indiscernible. Drake’s emotions were always so obvious. He didn’t know how to conceal them, he shouted them with fervor as they came and went. It was what made living with him so easy. But not now. Now, he was silent.

Launchpad’s skin began to prickle on the back of his neck, feathers standing up. He smiled disarmingly, to no avail. Drake blinked at him slowly, expression unchanging, cogs turning behind his eyes.

The moment came to a shattering end with a high, pitchy whine as Gosalyn began to squirm, testing her range of motion in the tight bundle Drake had secured her in. “I can’t sleep,” she griped, and Launchpad was grateful to her for tearing Drake’s attention away. “Tell me a story.”

“Like what, sweetie?” Drake sighed. “Another werewolf blood fest, I assume?”

“What did your parents used to do when you were sick?”

The question cracked through the room like a bolt of electricity. It would have been a mercy if it were an open question, but her gaze was fixed on Drake. Finally there was some readability in him, Launchpad watching Drake’s eyes widen and flick away, watching his chest heave with a deep inhale as he subdued the impulse to flee the room.

“Did you sleep in their room like this?” Gosalyn pressed, blissfully unaware of the blaring red signals that were so apparent to Launchpad.

Drake swallowed hard. “Oh, sure,” he said with a smile, tone shooting up an octave or two. “They would sit up with me all night, and they always read Chickadee and the Chocolate Factory to me whenever I got sick, because it was my favorite.”

Gosalyn’s expression glazed over, peaceful as she pictured the scene, but Drake’s was tight, smiling through clenched teeth.

“What else?” Gosalyn pressed. Launchpad racked his brain, but couldn’t fathom a way to ask her to stop.

“Well... they would always hold me just like this,” Drake said. His hand fell away from Launchpad’s side to stroke Gosalyn’s hair. “And when I got better, we’d go picnic in the park and sit in the warm sun, and I’d get a new comic book on the way home for being so brave.”

Gosalyn yawned, mumbling against Launchpad’s scarf as she settled in to sleep once more. Just like that, as if Drake had her under a spell. “I wish I could’ve met them,” she said.

“Me too, baby.”

“Can we visit their graves?”

Drake let go of her hair, fingers curling inward, squeezing so tightly into a fist that his arm shook.

“Maybe when you’re better, honey,” he said weakly.

“Maybe we could picnic there...”

Drake stopped breathing, looking to Launchpad, desperate for a way to back out of this hole he had flung himself into. There was no routine for this. No dance. Launchpad couldn’t help him this time, and he felt his rib cage shattering as he watched his partner drown.

Neither of them spoke again until Gosalyn’s snoring kicked up.

Launchpad swallowed, mouth dry. “Have you ever even read Chickadee and the Chocolate Factory?”

“I’ve seen the movie,” Drake snapped back at him, predictably on the defense now.

“We’ll think of something to tell her,” Launchpad answered reassuringly, watching Drake deflate, sinking deep into his pillow.

“I messed up, LP.”

Launchpad took Drake’s hand in his, uncurling the fingers so he could stroke the palm with his own thumb, jolting awake a million nerve endings to keep Drake grounded. “Why couldn’t you just tell her the truth?”

That indiscernible stare returned, but a little softer around the edges now as Drake gazed at him. “The truth... isn’t worth telling,” Drake said slowly, testing how each word passed over his tongue and bracing for the next. “I have all the family I need.”

Launchpad slipped his arm back around Drake’s shoulders, pulling him as close as he could without jostling their sleeping daughter.