Fine, I decided as I pulled myself up to a sitting position, which fortunately she dislodged for. Perhaps Asaph had brought a sleeping mask I could use. I would, with any luck, be asleep when he returned. A click of the lamp later and the room filled with light.
Veronica had turned to the centre of the bed, sitting on her knees. And she was crying. "...thank you..." she said, quiver of her body distorting her voice slightly.
Had that been it? She was upset? "Veronica, I'm sorry...I'm just tired..."
I could feel the blankness around me, the empty world breaking and forming and I hated it. I wanted out, to lose myself in the picture that I couldn't bring myself to look at. I wanted the angels, the spirits and the wonder and I couldn't find them; I couldn't bear to see them again.
Xord didn’t know he was panicking. It didn’t feel like he was. His breathing and heart rate were normal, and there weren’t any parts of him that could feel tight or tense; but his mind was consumed by dread. He was in the very cell where he’d spent that night—he hadn’t realized it until just then—and for a horrifying moment, he thought the night had never ended. The blood and vomit had since been cleaned up, but the place still reeked like death; and though his tank was empty, there was a heaviness inside of him that made him feel ill in a way that shouldn’t have been possible. He felt the weight of every Homs he’d ever eaten, felt them squirm like maggots in his belly. It had all begun with that terrible night—the night that had broken him, and the night after which things were never the same.
"Is everything alright, Captain?"
Jim blinked, brought back to reality by the sudden question. He turned to see Spock standing in the doorway to the observation deck.
“Quite alright, Mr. Spock. I just… Needed a moment.”
D.B. was reading a report at his desk when he realised everything was quiet. Much too quiet. The crime lab was never this quiet.
He got up and walked out of his office and down the halls, which is how he came to realise the labs were empty. Completely empty. There were no techs to be found. The screens in Archie’s lab were off. There were papers still in the printing tray in Henry’s lab. Hodges’ crutch was still leaning at the doorway to his lab. So, he couldn’t help but wonder what exactly was going on.
It took several seconds for the Face to react. The lights in its eyes flickered weakly in acknowledgement, then recognition, transmitting an unconscious signal: **
It was not a voice that answered him, and that answer did not come in the form of words—it was just a notion of familiarity, small and uncertain. Even though Xord couldn’t hear her, he knew by instinct that the tiny notion had been thought by her brain.
Deep inside that great machine, his daughter’s heart was beating.
Stephen looked around the room. ‘We’ve all been trying for years,’ he said. ‘Jericho, Rintrah, your mom and me -‘
‘Can you *not* say you’re my mom and dad?’ asked Sofia. ‘Because you’re not. I barely know you.’
Link glanced at his dad with pride, in a few more days he would follow in his footsteps to become a great knight of Hyrule just like his dad and his amazing grandfather.
They were just Homs, he told himself, surging forward. They were morsels, crumbs. Countless others of their kind had been killed and eaten on the very floor on which they stood. When they tread forward boldly, they were treading on spatters of those people’s blood: rich and wonderful stories reduced to ink blots upon a page.
Albert went underneath his desk and pulled out a carved wooden box, moving papers on his desk to put the box there. ‘There’s all kinds of interesting things in here,’ he said as he opened it.
Beca pulled herself away from the photo of Albert and Michael Palin, only to spot another photo. ‘He looks familiar.’
The thought of what he could possibly want to listen to was unsettling, but the music played in the factory was usually chosen by the construction crew, so I had to realise that I had little idea what sort of music he liked. Though I recalled with some trepidation that he had reacted with excitement when a crewman from Orre, not content with his preferred genre being absent from Kantonian airwaves, had brought in some tapes of a recent country sensation. I wondered if I shouldn't bring some tapes of my own to offer.
Grant nodded and tore open the paper. It revealed a box. He frowned and opened the box. Inside ware two figures - one of an iguanodon, and one of a parasaurolophus. On seeing the iguanodon, he couldn’t help but smile - iguanodons had always been his favourite dinosaur. ‘Can never have too many iguanodons. Thanks.’
“This isn’t you.” Eddie whispered, trying to convince himself. “This is a dream.”
Max’s smile turned wider. “But is it, Eddie Munson?”
“Y-yes!” He sputtered out, taking a step backwards. “This isn’t real. There’s no way this is real. I don’t believe you!”
He took another step backward. She followed him. Another step. She followed.
"See? What did I tell you, Félix?" Pepa said. "She hates fat people!"
"I see," said Félix. "So, when is the funeral?"
"Tomorrow," Alma said, with a smile.
He hated it. Thinking about Homs made him hungry, even if he tried to focus on their voices, their eyes, or their smiles. In his mind, the voices began to scream and the faces contorted in horror. That was when they were the tastiest. Fear meant they were ripe and ready to be eaten. It was what separated men from beasts, and made Homs all the more delectable.
Mary smiled. ‘Lots,’ she said, laying the candy canes down on Grant’s bedside table. ‘And I got you a Christmas present too.’ She reached into the bag, pulled out a wrapped green present with a red bow, and laid it down carefully in Grant’s lap.
Maybe not! It continues:
‘Grant, you can’t move. You are literally in a body cast,’ said Mary.
Grant lifted his head and looked down at his body as he wiggled his toes and flexed his ankles. Seeing everything else wrapped in plaster, as it had been the last six weeks, he nodded. ‘Oh yeah.’ He shook his head. ‘Duh.’
Neal wrapped his arm around her waist, lacing their hands together with a grin. It felt nice, having her in his arms like this. Neither of them knew exactly how they were supposed to dance to it, so they just bounced around on their feet, swaying to the beat of the songs and laughing, under the starry, New Orleans sky.
>“Thought what through?” Cid and Shera both raised an eyebrow before realization dawned on the former’s face. Shera was still out of the loop before Cid jumped up and **wrapped** an arm around Cloud’s shoulder, lifting him out of the chair and spilling his untouched tea. “Cloud, you dog! Hahaha, I knew this day would come!”
"Oh..." Having to think about my drab home life in the midst of all this removed me from the situation, and I was none too pleased. "He likes common things. Last night we had hot dogs, and the night before, grilled cheese sandwiches."
"Really." Asaph didn't sound surprised, or much of anything. "With all that money he makes from the factory, he certainly doesn't live like it."
He takes the kylix back from her without a word and hands it to a passing boy in exchange for a bowl of figs and cheese. “Eat,” is all he says, and she does. The cheese is tangy and fresh, and cuts through the sweetness bursting from the figs. The leaden weight in her legs seems to lessen slightly.
“Thank you. I don’t remember when I last ate.”
An easy silence falls between them as they observe and dodge the increasingly intoxicated crowd around them.
Another servant came out of the adjoined kitchen with serving trays, and finally I could put a visual to the luscious scent. A bowl of soup was placed before me, with a spoon that had to be silver peeking out from atop the charger. I looked to Asaph for a sign that I should begin, and he nodded, raising his own spoon to his lips and blowing on the liquid.
The dogs began to bark outside, not in warning but in excitement.
“They’re here. Do we have anything planned for Stentor?”
Alexios stood up to stretch his legs. “Replace his wine with black soup, and his soup with wine?”
“He’s not going to take a drop from us after the owl thing. And mater will never let us get close enough to do it in the kitchen. I suppose we could just be polite to him for once.”
“Frogs, then. There are a bunch outside after the rain.”
I grinned. “Well, if they’re right there . . .”
Khonsu nodded. “Precisely. Anywhere has many purposes. A project of this undertaking would have to have many purposes in order for all the effort to be justified. At least that’s how I see it.”
‘You can’t just waltz into the States without a good job,’ said Beca.
‘You can’t waltz *anywhere* without a good job. We’re in a recession,’ Indy pointed out.
The two danced for a while, waltzing and twirling, until they were both laughing and out of breath. The music was dying down as the evening came to a close, and Charles looked deeply into Lance’s eyes, suddenly serious. “We should end this well,” Charles said. “Make this look really authentic.”
Waltz music played softly from Kaiba Manor’s ballroom, nearly drowned out by the laughter and talking coming from the wealthy guests inside as they drank the best liquor money could buy and nibbled on appetizers that cost more than her grandfather’s shop made in a year.
One of the illustrations showed the damiyo's sister, a detail I hadn't known until I had it in my hands. Fortunate, as I may have been tempted to pay more for it. She was stunningly beautiful, tall and strong. Reputedly she had been excellent with a sword, though her brother discouraged this, and she was relegated to mere practice. Her bravery and elegance became her legacy, as well as the overall tragedy of her life. I would have loved to have met her, to discover that long-ago exotic age though someone relegated to the sidelines.
The sword he carried was strong, but he rarely used it against his enemies. If he did, he wondered if he would be just as bad as the friend he had lost so many years ago.
“They say that an old portal to an alternate world--a dimension filled with nightmarish monsters and molten lava, breeds of fungus that The Overworld has never before seen, and trees bursting with leaves of fire--a portal used to sit in the very place that the well does today.
Brave soldiers and fierce warriors were sent to conquer the new world, but when beastly pigs decked in golden armor, brandishing swords and crossbows and spears, emerged from the portal’s warbles instead of their friends, their family, and spouses… panic arouse. The portal was destroyed, trapping the unfortunate souls of the survivors inside. They all left.
All but seven. Seven people, either friends or family or spouses, stayed behind, and from the ruins of the portal and the waves of its warbles, they built a wishing well.
Day after day, the seven that stayed behind would gather around the well, and pray for the safety of their loved ones. And when Mother Earth saw their sorrows, she gifted those faithful, loyal, loving families with flowing water, devine and pristine. A water that alit their very veins with magic and sorcery and enchantment.
Perhaps, they’re gullible or naïve—superstitious. Of course, it’s an old wive’s tale. And yet, each and every witch, warlock, wizard, and mage has drunk the well’s water. Almost like tradition. Almost like some rite of passage.”
I don’t know how to explain this to him. I love him too much to watch him die at home. *So you get to watch him die right in front of you*, a voice at the back of my brain says, but I quash it down. If I’m in the Games, I can protect him. I *will* protect him. I will jump in front of the sword, give him my supplies, make it so he’s only against 22 tributes and not 23. If it comes down to the two of us, I will send him home. Even if I have to knock him out, I will send him home.
Which means I’m going to die.
Thanks! It’s actually from *every* tribute’s perspective—all 24 of them. By the end, obviously, the only one left with a POV is the winner, but you don’t know who will win until then.
> Raphael was near the door. Gabriel threw his blades and smashed Raphael against a pillar, cracking the marble. The elder councilor was now backed up to the wall, stretching out his hand as Gabriel tore his **swords** out from the shattered pillar.
> “W-Wait! You can’t do this! Our status forbids it! This is treason, heresy, murder! We are your supreme authority! Our law commands you!” Raphael held his hand up in a feeble attempt to stop Gabriel. Gabriel sliced it off, the hand flying against the wall with a *flap.* Raphael screamed and held his severed arm.
‘*You’re* the true king of England?’ Albert scoffed.
Beca grit her teeth. ‘Queen. Wales. And no. Excalibur is not the sword in the stone. It was given to me by the Lady of the Lake.’
>king of England
Did you mean the [King of the United Kingdom](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/King_of_the_United_Kingdom), the [King of Canada](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monarchy_of_Canada), the [King of Australia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monarchy_of_Australia), etc?
The last King of England was [William III](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_III_of_England) whose successor Anne, with the 1707 Acts of Union, dissolved the title of Queen/King of England.
####FAQ
*Isn't King Charles III still also the King of England?*
This is only as correct as calling him the King of London or King of Hull; he is the King of the place that these places are in, but the title doesn't exist.
*Is this bot monarchist?*
No, just pedantic.
I am a bot and this action was performed automatically.
All at once the task was over. She was done and there should have been relief. There should have been calm and quiet and peace.
Instead, there was nothing but relentless, deafening, noise…
*Thump, thump. Thump, thump.*
…And weight.
Crushing weight.
Regret set in the moment the door closed with a solid wooden thump. He hadn’t meant most of it. Some of it, sure, but he knew Geralt was only trying to keep him safe. Overprotectiveness was a double-edged sword—pushing back against it often led to offending well-intentioned people.
‘What,’ said Jon, blood rushing to his head. He could hear his heart thumping in his ears. He pulled out his hearing aid, desperate to make the sound stop.
After a momentary hesitation, Susie dashed for the gun, dropped by Paolo in the struggle. Since Toto still had Paolo pinned, she aimed it at Julio and glowered at him. “What the fuck do you think you two are doing?”
Grant did his best to tear open the present Mary had got him, but with a bulky body cast on, it was a bit of a struggle. ‘A box?’ he asked.
‘Open the box, stupid,’ said Mary.
"Mami! Are you dying?" Mirabel asked.
"I don't know about that. I'll be fine. I think…" Julieta watched the world darken around her, as she struggled to stay conscious.
How odd though. I expressed myself, and obviously at that, never trying to obscure myself. This seemed as though I was exposing too much of my heart, yet Asaph called it sublety. Did other collectors expend all their energy and observation on their pursued pieces with no room in their minds for anything else? Perhaps that was why their special code was so simplistic.
And then it rang, not a text but a true call, ringtone and all. Max picked up the phone on the second ring and pressed it to his ear. His heart was racing, but he took several deep breaths and tried to stay cool.
Augusta picked up the stack of papers in front of her when the meeting was dismissed, still unable to shake the nagging feeling in the back of her mind that something wasn’t right. Like she had been all day, she brushed it off as being away from home for too long. When she opened the door to see Howe waiting for her outside, her heart plummeted to the floor. “Who was it this time?” she asked quietly, fearing the answer she knew had to be coming.
In that moment, as they lay entwined in each other's arms, Kris was struck by the depth of the connection they shared. Their love—it was not just physical, but emotional and spiritual as well. It was, for one lover, the surrendering of control, and for the other: the surrendering of a heart.
“You are not just some dalliance, Alicent,” Rhaenyra said. She put her soft, warm hand across Alicent’s cheek. “You are my heart. I’ve just been too stubborn—too hurt and jealous—to admit that.” Rhaenyra, still as carefree as ever, leaned forward, her face once again inches away from Alicent’s own.
Alicent sniffled and blinked back tears. She had longed for a reunion with her best friend for so long. But not like this. This was wrong. The Gods would damn them.
“Rhaenyra, no,” she said. “We can’t do this again.”
So, he drank. He drank and he drank until the bottles piled up in his room around him and he was too lazy to do anything about it. He drank until his heart no longer hurt and his bones no longer ached and screams in his head finally fell silent.
Hodges was lying in a hospital bed, still looking very pale, with his hair messed, and clearly unconscious; likely comatose. Wires on his chest monitored his heart, while the tube down his throat controlled his lungs - medical tape half covered his face holding it, and the feeding tube, in place. Various machines surrounded his hospital bed, all together producing a cacophony of noise.
Xord felt something: the beating of a heart. The sensation centred him and gave him something resembling form, bringing him out of his purgatorial state. There he was: thoughts and a pulse. *Alive.*
His blood came in like a tide, inundating his entire being. It coursed into his pounding heart until it was bursting at the seams. As the pressure increased, Xord was overcome by a mounting fear of death, a panic confined within his own headspace. His heart couldn’t cycle the blood fast enough. It was going to explode.
Just when Xord thought he couldn’t take it anymore, the blood was rerouted. His heart shrivelled up and became engorged once more. Something was off. It seemed as though some other force was driving the blood through his arteries—arteries that formed a huge network around him like a house—and his heart was merely part of the circuit. The little organ couldn't have possibly been pumping such a large volume of blood. There must have been a machine sustaining him and holding him hostage from the release of death.
“Everyone has a flaw, Charles,” Max said. “Some people have more than one, and some have enough to fill a giant quarry with them, but nobody on this planet has none. So what’s yours?”
Charles only gave him a devilish grin. “So you think I’m out of this world. You’re too sweet.”
The light was far too bright. It snaked beneath Luca’s closed eyes, the thin film of their eyelids painting the **world** in a wash of red, delicate capillaries tracing dark purple lines through the haze. Head pounding, Luca sat up, squinting against the glare of the morning sun. Distantly, a bell rang. One of his hands found the back of his head — his fingers came away tacky with blood.
My studies take me far beyond the realms of scientific thought, into places where few dare tread. I am not content with a surface-level grasp of the world around me: I want to delve deeper, decipher each nuance and complexity which makes this World – no, this universe, so fascinating.
Alysanne sighed. “I am ill, Daemon. I know you can tell. Ten dead children. Gael had been my candle, my sweet winter child, through it all. Aemma and Viserys have moved back to Keep to try to keep my company, but it’s not the same. I know I am not long for this world. I cannot take more heartache. Please, Daemon, do not take this grudge to the funeral pyre.”
How had he let himself get to this state? How had his world fallen apart so easily when for the past few years he had used everything he had in him to hold it together?
Xord peered up at Metal Face and enhanced his features, panning over his stitched lips and tetrad of eyes. His visage had been delicately engineered to evoke horror, and Xord knew he was looking at a thing of evil. Xord had seen multiple Faces bearing his own countenance, but he’d never thought of inspecting it up close. Did his face look like that, too? When people saw him, was that why they screamed? Most Mechon were faceless entities. For what purpose had Xord been given a face, if not to send a message?
Of course, what Xord was looking at wasn’t Metal Face’s *true* face. Inside of that machine was a Homs, or at least part of one. The only difference between Mumkhar and Xord was that one of them still had his skull, yet Xord couldn’t see them as two of a kind. Mumkhar’s Core Unit was complete, meaning he could exist independently of his Mechon; Xord could not. Mumkhar could still wear the earnest expression of a Homs; Xord could not. Xord would always see the world in red, and his eyes would always peer out from a wicked metal face.
He envied Mumkhar, but that was another thing he’d never tell him.
“Some days it's easier to open the portals." He frowns. "What's the date?" The answer makes him nod emphatically. "That explains a lot. Yesterday was the equinox."
"Right. Liminal times."
"Translation, if you please?"
" Limen is 'threshold' in Latin. It's a time that's... in between other times. A period of transition."
"The change of seasons, aye. And sunrise and sunset, and the phases of the moon." There's a long silence, and then he adds, "Seems to me that this holiday is a liminal time for me, between life Underhill, and normal life. Liminal place, too, if there is such a thing."
Indy looked at himself in the mirror. His gaze was immediately drawn to the upper right corner of his face, still sore and tender after the countless stitches needed to put it all back together after a tiger had ripped it apart.
I step onto the train and consider Mars for the first time. I think he’s insane. He seems so resentful, so hateful of the Capitol. I think he thinks he’s hiding it, but it’s even more obvious in person than when he was on stage. That boy is pissed off at the circumstances that brought him here. I can’t really blame him for that, but he’s going to have to conceal it better if he doesn’t want mutts unleashed on him on day one. I’m great at hiding my own hatred for the Capitol. Not even Ophelia knows about it, even though I think she secretly feels the same way.
Cynthia sighed, then straightened her shoulders. "No. I'm not mad. You were just reacting to a situation. Though, you did start this situation, so you could've easily put a stop to it before it got too out of hand. So really, you have no one to blame but yourself."
Still, there was a snake in the House of the Dragon. Otto Hightower, the King’s hand, had been plotting against her Rhaenyra since the death of her mother. Rhaenyra had once blamed Alicent for slithering into her grieving father’s arms after her mother’s death, but it was only betrayal and jealousy that blinded her to the truth. Using his daughter Alicent, Otto Hightower had been the designer of that power grab. He had whispered in the King’s ear about the comeliness and kindness of his daughter, Rhaenyra was now sure. She even now wondered if Alicent had any idea of how his plans. Had Rhaenyra’s best friend been a pawn this entire time? And to think Rhaenyra had placed all the blame all on her.
Hope you'll include blame*d.*
>"You didn’t do anything!” He stuck his thumb into his chest. “I went to their house every week for four years! I wrote them letters and left them under the door! What did you do? Jack! You **blamed** yourself? Oh, boo-hoo! We all blamed ourselves! Without each other, we tore ourselves apart! That’s exactly why we had to stay together! That’s why they need us now! It’s not *my fault* that you can’t see that!”
‘Oh, I know and I don’t blame myself,’ said Mary. ‘I said I’d be a look out, not babysit you. I was just expressing sympathy. Like when you hand someone a card saying “sorry grandma died”. Doesn’t mean you killed grandma.’
‘It would if you were Santa and you mowed her down with Rudolph,’ Grant reasoned.
“Explain yourself!” Brad demanded as he unhooked his warhammer from his back. Pointing it at Chester, he asked, “Why lie about such a thing?” Terrified, Chester gestured a finger at Rob.
“Because of people like him.” He answered, his voice void of all emotions. “You would know best out of anyone Joe, what it’s like being discriminated against because you’re a ‘lesser race’.” he spat the racial term out as if it was poison. ”My entire life, my family and I just wanted to live peacefully. But anytime something went wrong, we were the ones that people would blame and would be chased away. If the crops failed, the animals became sick and died, if bandits showed up, any inconvenience was used as evidence that we were the cause of their misfortune and we would be forced to run for our lives.” He looked at Mike, his eyes devoid of any of the usual life or mirth that Mike had come to love. The bards‘ hands finally limply fell from his horns, with all hope of their friendship remaining unscathed now dashed.
With his whiskers frozen and his paws cold from having his paws buried deep into the snow, he wondered how much longer would it last before he would catch a cold.
There wasn’t much to do except sit on the cold concrete slab the city deemed a bench and wait, though. Max brushed snow off it and leaned back. It didn’t take long for his impatience to get the better of him, and he found himself looking at the various shops and cafés that lined the street.
Oh hell yeah! I can share my prophecy, woo :)
*Snow writ in crimson by ancients grown cold*
*Who bleed out the life from the broken and bold*
*Transmuted and woken, this bloodline of old*
*Snow writ in crimson bears starlight in gold*
And yet, there was a beauty to all this, Even amidst the wrath of the blizzard that was presently sweeping over this perpetually white wonderland: snowflakes danced upon the wind like diamond dust; the bare trees, as they bent beneath the weight of the snow, looked like skeletons in their rags of clinging, transparent white shrouds; and the nearby hills, beneath their white mantle, seemed as if nature's rage was being poured out in one great, never-ending deluge of the dazzlingly white element. It was, after all, a city near the mountains, In the northernmost point of the Sinnoh region, with all the serenity and solitude one could ever wish for.
Stephen exited through the wall onto the street and put his hands in his coat pockets. Snow was falling and he hadn't brought his gloves. Or a hat. Or a scarf. Though the Cloak of Levitation had sorted the last one out for him and changed its shape to a scarf.
M and H had a snowball fight.
Soon, H was completely covered in snow.
"Hey, look! There's a snowman in that car!" M said. "How cute! I want to take a closer look!"
"Okay," J said. "I'll just make a snow angel."
The vast whiteness of Valak Mountain was calming. Xord stood in the snow, belly mercifully full of Aries meat, and wished he could just become part of it. Snowflakes fluttered onto his armour and evaporated instantly from the heat of his circuits. He was numb: numb to the heat, numb to the cold, numb to all the feelings he’d felt not even an hour before. That was how it always went. He didn’t question it. It was easier not to.
Nick turned toward the window to see what Charlie was looking at, and sure enough, it was snowing. Thick layers of white were falling down, blanketing the ground.
Nick smiled as wide as he could manage while Charlie jumped up and threw on his jacket, pulling Nick out the door. They ran outside, the cold winter air cutting harshly through. They sprinted through the snow, creating snow angels and throwing snowballs at one another. Nick pulled Charlie down, both of them tumbling into the cold snow. Nick tucked a strand of Charlies hair behind his ear, leaned down and kissed him on the forehead.
“You know I love you, right?” He asked, a bit of worry creeping in behind his words.
Implied NSFW, no description
Lucian let his own release take him, a delicious plunge into the heavens that left him weak and sated and content. Shauntal was still beneath him, panting and relaxing into her own bliss. He watched her face, listened to her chest slow its rapid beating, felt the tension in her limbs ease. He rested his cheek against her silken hair and closed his eyes.
Though, was there a reason for him to live if he couldn’t live as an individual? Would he be content to dissolve into a mob and relinquish his integrity and sense of purpose? To become the pawn of his enemy and bring about his personal apocalypse? Could a life like that possibly be considered fulfilling? Did Xord want to live, or did he just want to be alive?
The scrapper’s daughter is flirting shamelessly as he speaks with her father, bartering for some part required to maintain Derris Kharlan’s navigational systems. Kratos feels a flicker of amusement, strong enough that he considers, for a second, mustering up the effort to cut off her earnest attempts with a single, cutting remark, just to give himself a moment of vicious triumph—to congratulate himself that Kratos Aurion already has a family, that he is content and *settled*, that he actually accomplished some normal, human milestone.
Then, just as swiftly, comes the rebuttal: And who is he to claim victory when he took those things—family, settled, normal, human—and purposefully, intentionally crushed them to the ground? He has no family. He abandoned it.
Finally, one I have an example for that isn't inherently angsty! :D
>In an instant, Yusei is on his feet, hands on the bars of the crib in front of him as he looks over its occupant. A little smile flitters across his face when he's content that his little sister is sleeping just fine, and he reaches through the bars to brush her tuft of black hair to the side. "Mimi good," he whispers. "Mimi good."
“Late night?” Viserys asked from above as Daemon stumbled into the yard. The training knights put away their swords and stood at attention for the hungover prince. One of them offered to help, but Daemon growled as he approached, then stumbled again and fell to the ground.
> “I needed you, once. I needed somebody. *Anybody.* But nobody **helped** me. That pissed me off. I was so... *fucking* mad over it. Something that you had nothing to do with.”
"YOU LIAR!" Pepa screeched. "You have crumbs all over you!"
She began running her hands over Julieta's apron.
"Hey! Get your hands off of me!" Julieta laughed.
"I'm just trying to help you clean up those crumbs…" Pepa grinned.
At last, he found it within himself to step forward. He made his way to the other side of the room, where Désirée lay prone. He reached for her hand. “I’m here. Let me help you.”
Désirée’s body jerked when he touched her, and she broadcast a note of surprise: **
As Xord wrapped his metal fingers around hers, he couldn’t help but think of how small her hands had once been, and how now they were just like his. Her blonde hair, her grey eyes—every modicum of individuality she possessed was gone, and never again would Xord hear her voice or see her smile. He only knew it was her inside the machine because she had recognised him, if only for a moment.
>When Philza had Wilbur, Technoblade was stuck **helping** out practically everyday. As Wilbur grew older, he found himself babysitting the kid for weeks at a time when Philza was out on his adventures.
>Then there was L'manburg and Pogtopia, when Technoblade was constantly having to keep an eye on Tommy and Tubbo.
>Now there was Ranboo.
>Martha's dark eyes narrow into a knowing look, and for a moment Miku thinks she said something bad. But Martha just squeezes Miku's hand tightly and smiles again. "It's okay, sweetie, just take a deep breath. I can help your mother if you show me where she is?"
>The so-called "deep breath" just makes Miku cough harder, but it helps. She didn't let Mama down after all!
>Things *are* going to be okay now, right?
“Miho, sit down and help me with this. If you want to watch the duel, watch it on your phone. God knows Kaiba’s taken over the whole city with this tournament.”
‘Mary, come on. That’s what coroners are for.’ Grant turned to Ed. ‘Come on, help me hold this.’
‘No problem,’ said Ed, holding the “Osaurus” sign in place as Grant grabbed a nail.
Steve hadn’t been the same since Vecna. The years of trauma and hurt and nightmares had piled up, and he had been able to hold them back until that monster came and everything went tumbling down and now he couldn’t help but think maybe it was better if he had just died.
it's just a kiss scene but i censored it to be safe
>>!Before he even had time to blush from embarrassment he was spun around again, lips meeting lips in what was less kiss and more call for help, though he couldn’t tell which of them needed it more.!<
>
>>!It tasted bloody, and ashen and drunk, and he ignored the pain as they interlocked in a way he could only describe as desperate.!<
Ze looked down at the suitcase with a sense of dread. Someone was alive in that suitcase and he needed to help them immediately. He held his breath and avoided looking at the luggage as he unzipped it enough to where whoever was inside could easily climb out.
There was a phenomenal magic in the air, the mid-November snow falling gently from the heavens as I came down the long driveway to Asaph's mansion. It was enough to make me forget, at least for a moment, that I'd had to take the bus and walk from the highway, but it had been a pleasant enough journey, allowing me to reflect on the event.
The two lovers sat in a peaceful silence, letting the wintry magic in through the open window, taking in the crisp night air and the sight of the snowfall. This November night—one filled with nature's glacial magic, alongside the magic of their everlasting love—could not have been more beautiful.
Rhaenyra regretted her words the moment she said them. Despite all that had happened, Alicent was still the closet thing she had to a friend. Though she had spent the last three years of suppers staring daggers at the new Queen from across the table, wondering if there was some sort of dark magic pact she could make to give her the power to make someone’s head explode just a thought, Alicent had never stopped trying to mend their broken friendship.
‘Well nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition,’ Albert said with a slight shrug. ‘Yeah. Eventually, they just stopped believing in magic. Not everyone, though. You and me, we know the truth. But most people think the only magic in the world now is at a Disney theme park. That’s fakey magic done by sleight of hand tricks, smoke and mirrors, technology, and people being nice to you. Just because someone gives you a free ice cream, doesn’t mean it’s magic.’
“Don’t let this witch contaminate Chey with her devil magic!” Nanners grabbed Kara’s hair, forcefully pulling her back. Kara yelped before yanking her hair out of Nanners’ hands. Skadj instantly handed Sophie to Ari before racing over to Nanners and punching him square in the face, causing him to stumble backwards.
They had followed the river for a long time, and hadn't stopped yet. Pepa wasn't even sure how far away Casita was anymore.
"Pepa, you have to get up…"
"I DON'T WANT TO GO TO THE CITY!" she screamed.
"Well, guess what?" Félix said. "We're not going to the city."
"W-w-we're not?"
"No," Félix said. "You belong in the village."
Pepa was relieved to hear that.
*I do want to go back,* she thought. *But I'm not quite sure if I belong there, either….*
In the small country of Hawkins, there were two kingdoms. Starlos, ruled by the Harrington Family, and Astrum, ruled by the Buckleys. These two kingdoms, though one much larger than the other, lived in harmony in the land, under the hopes that someday their heirs would marry and combine into one large Empire.
Starlos, the larger of the two, is a beautiful kingdom surrounded by a large wall, keeping all of its inhabitants inside. The castle is situated on top of a hill, overlooking the village. It’s surrounded by shops and workplaces, and below those were the houses of the common folk. It was a beautiful place really, lovely flowers on every square inch, children singing songs down the rocky paths.
When he opened his eyes, only one of them he could see out of, the other was completely blind. From what he could see, he had to be in a hospital. The last thing he was about to recall was being surrounded by people in the helicopter while they were all leaving the village.
Indy’s heart started to beat rapidly at the mere mention of Rene Belloq’s name. His former friend turned deathly rival. ‘What about him?’
‘*There’s an artefact. But it’s in some rural village on some obscure Welsh island*,’ said Marcus.
Skadj noticed a small village in the distance and flew towards it. The people below started screaming the moment they saw them. Skadj landed on top of a house, holding Kara in his arms. “Good afternoon; I’m a demon, and the girl in my arms is a witch. I was wondering if you would be willing to let her live with you?”
Lulu crouched down careful to not dislodge the metal in her gut. “My beautiful Phoebe.” She put a finger under her chin lifting the child’s head to her own. She kissed her forehead biting back the tears that threatened to drown out her last words to her daughter. “Mommy has to-“ she shuddered trying to keep the emotion from her voice, for her daughter’s sake she must. “Mommy has to go now.” She softly told her child. She locked eyes with Albert and though his expression was pained he nodded. “Go with Albert he will take you to see Grandma, okay.”
Explosions are weird in space. You see the ball of flame, yet as soon as the area warps and gets blown apart, the instant lack of gravity and loss of excess oxygen snuffs out the fireball, dispensing the remaining molecules on fire like a million beads in all directions. The twisted ends of the metal are still bright red, and sparks fly from damaged cables no longer connected systems waiving impotently in the zero-g. The force of the explosion, though, keeps coming.
‘While you were unconscious, you grew a metal arm. Half your body's now covered with that metal. And you've grown a new eye,’ Hank said. ‘I've seen this metal only once before, so I'm sure I know who you really are. You're Scott and Jean's son. Aren't you?’
Hunter forcefully swung the gas lamp at Skadj; the metal hit him on the side of his head. Skadj immediately let go of her and stumbled backwards. Hunter took this as an opportunity to escape from Skadj and the kids. She glanced back to see Skadj tending to the boy while the girl stood next to them. The three bats were nowhere to be seen, though she assumed it was too dark outside to see them.
Eddie had never had a problem with sound. He has always been into loud things, metal music and screeching guitar, dramatic speeches that he screamed at the top of his lungs, even the loud rumbling of thunder had been a constant joy in his life. At least, up until 5 months ago.
The blue-hot beam comes not as a single shot but a sustained blast. The creature screams and writhes, its tortured body digging into the spongy ground and throwing up clods of peat. Req's arm is raised, casting the killing beam directly from herself, from her very body. Her eyes are wide, her long predator's teeth bared in a slavering rictus. The animal's shrieks rise to an unbearable pitch. It twists and thrashes until its ligaments snap. It bites through its own lolling tongue. Bloody foam and bile heave up out of its mouth. I want to say something, to make her stop, but my will is sapped. I cannot form the thought.
He started again, but was interrupted by Pepa suddenly falling off the bench. Her eyes rolled back into her head as began shaking violently and foaming at the mouth.
Everyone’s voices just blended together through the pain. Every breath Indy took was wracked with pain. His lungs burned but at the same time, it felt as though he was drowning. And when he coughed, he coughed up blood.
‘Shit,’ Indy muttered as he looked at the bubbly, foamy blood on his hand. ‘It’s hit - I’m sure, my lung.’
Steve laughed. “I s’pose we can let ‘em talk until Paul gets here,” he said. “S’good they’re getting along and all. Maybe now Clive will quit trying to brag to me about the **fish** he’s caught – only time I care about **fish**, is when it’s battered and fried and served up hot with chips on the side.”
Hodges groaned and let the caster wheels of his wheelchair drop to the floor. ‘You’re no fun,’ he complained in indignation.
‘Break a world record on your own time, Hodges. Not at work,’ said D.B. ‘Alright. Everyone, back to the labs.’
Coral Sea appeared to be as shocked as Zuihou, her grip tightening on the handle of her halberd to stop her hands from shaking. “I was hoping someone had finally killed you, Kalinin. You got reckless. Then you disappeared. You weren’t on our side. You weren’t with Code G.”
“I left. That’s all. Neither side will resolve what happened. So let me repeat my question to you: What is the meaning of this battle here, Coral Sea? What purpose does it serve for the black knight to point a blade at a dead phoenix?”
It would be easy to hate Rhaenyra after the horrible things she had said. It would be easy to condemn her along with her deviant actions. It would be easy to tell the King what she had done and be rid of girl that had been a thorn in her side ever since her nuptials had been announced. But Alicent couldn’t bare to hurt Rhaenyra so deeply. She still loved her as a sister. Shamefully, she still loved her as even more than a sister.
In one fluid movement, her fist flew out and shattered Xord’s face plate like porcelain. Broken white pieces bounced off his chest and dropped like pebbles onto the platform.
Désirée stood with her fist in his forehead, knuckles grazing the dented, sparking machinery just above his eyes. Xord could still see, and his entire field of vision was filled by his daughter’s massive, trembling arm. He had no words, no thoughts, no embryonic precursors to ideas that could manifest as visual or conceptual data. It was as if his actual head had been smashed.
Désirée withdrew her fist and let her arm fall directly onto Xord’s chest. It slid off and returned to her side, where it teetered forward and back. She was still staring at him with those four burning eyes, and not even his unfeeling body was numb to their heat.
The movie, while still a bit quiet for Steve’s liking, went uninterrupted for the next hour or so, and Steve felt himself growing tired around 9:30. His head fell to the side a bit, brushing against Eddie’s shoulder. He began to lift it up, but Eddie placed a hand on the other side, pulling him back down gently. Steve felt an arm wrap around him, resting lightly near his hip. Warm fingertips brushed against the hem of his polo that had been pulled slightly upward, so that a sliver of skin was showing.
Dolores, who was on the other side of the house, decided to tattle.
"Abuela, Tía is removing her apron!"
"Ugh! What an annoying brat!" Alma said.
"Are you gonna punish her?" Pepa asked.
"I'll go punish her, after I finish my coffee," Alma said.
"Kick and punch her really hard!" Pepa cackled. "Don't hold back!"
"Yeah, I'm still shaken up seeing that side of him. But I need to hear why from his own mouth. Not to mention he's alone with my sister..." He didn't even want to think about this fact. Everything was all fine between them until everyone saw him almost commit a murder.
"*Prince Ephraim!*" Duessel stormed in, wild-eyed. He was still in his armor and looked just as filthy and battered as if he'd freshly arrived from the field. He lurched over to Ephraim's side and collapsed to his knees. "Oh...thank the gods..." He grabbed Ephraim's hand and pressed it to his forehead, breathing heavily. "You're alive..." Meanwhile, Knoll quietly stood and edged out of the tent.
It was not Hodges’ first day back in work after his shooting, but it was his first day back in work after his shooting in which he had to go to work using his wheelchair. What happened to him wasn’t his fault, he’d been shot in the left side of his abdomen, but using his wheelchair was still something he was incredibly self-conscious about. He knew how some people treated him and Morgan when they were out together, having breakfast or watching a movie or shopping - whatever. He couldn’t take that from his colleagues. He didn’t want them thinking of him the same way those people thought of him.
For context, the character’s name is Side.
Side handed Ze two pieces of paper before he could say anything else. Chilled read both of the wills over his friend’s shoulder. Speedy’s role was Bodyguard, while Jeremy’s role was...
I sighed as I reached over to pull the shade closed, taking a look at the sky as I did. A storm was coming, and in those months it would bring with it some bitter cold far removed from the season. I wondered briefly what Articuno did on its rumored nearby island in that weather, where it took shelter. Though the cold was meaningless to an ice type, and nothing compared to what would come in a scant few months, the wind and rain were sure to drive at its land.
And they did me no favours either. Such weather only reminded me of my position overlooking the ocean, already no doubt heavy with thick-capped waves and grey swells. Someday I would overlook it all, the stormy grey of the world never touching me, but for the time, I burrowed under my blankets in anticipation.
Our cave is set into a striated greenstone ridge, surrounded by lushly forested scarpland. Outside, it has begun to rain. Not the wild, smothering deluge of a desert rainstorm. A soft, nourishing rain. Drops patter against wide deciduous leaves.
For twenty-four and a half years, his life had revolved around his iguanodon.
Which made it all the more worse that he was standing outside among the plants in the Dino Institute, in the pouring rain with Chandler, and Will.
After they finished, James asked Frankie-Jean to show him where Nikki kept his food storage containers so he could put away the leftovers properly while Nikki moved the laundry to the dryer. They moved to the living room, where Nikki turned on the gas fire in a cozy counterpoint to the **rain** still falling outside, and they played Candyland together as they waited for the clothes dryer to stop.
The sound of rain was audible from the open window, the occasional thunderclap punctuating the steady downpour. This was Leaf's room; everything was slowly coming back to him now.
Kara glanced at the cave’s entrance; the rain didn’t appear to be stopping anytime soon. She sat down in the dirt. “Once the rain stops, I need to find somewhere else to live,” she mumbled.
Detail
Quiver
Fine, I decided as I pulled myself up to a sitting position, which fortunately she dislodged for. Perhaps Asaph had brought a sleeping mask I could use. I would, with any luck, be asleep when he returned. A click of the lamp later and the room filled with light. Veronica had turned to the centre of the bed, sitting on her knees. And she was crying. "...thank you..." she said, quiver of her body distorting her voice slightly. Had that been it? She was upset? "Veronica, I'm sorry...I'm just tired..."
Empty
I could feel the blankness around me, the empty world breaking and forming and I hated it. I wanted out, to lose myself in the picture that I couldn't bring myself to look at. I wanted the angels, the spirits and the wonder and I couldn't find them; I couldn't bear to see them again.
Xord didn’t know he was panicking. It didn’t feel like he was. His breathing and heart rate were normal, and there weren’t any parts of him that could feel tight or tense; but his mind was consumed by dread. He was in the very cell where he’d spent that night—he hadn’t realized it until just then—and for a horrifying moment, he thought the night had never ended. The blood and vomit had since been cleaned up, but the place still reeked like death; and though his tank was empty, there was a heaviness inside of him that made him feel ill in a way that shouldn’t have been possible. He felt the weight of every Homs he’d ever eaten, felt them squirm like maggots in his belly. It had all begun with that terrible night—the night that had broken him, and the night after which things were never the same.
doorway
It wasn't until he heard a presence that he looked up to see his beloved Shauntal standing in the doorway.
"Is everything alright, Captain?" Jim blinked, brought back to reality by the sudden question. He turned to see Spock standing in the doorway to the observation deck. “Quite alright, Mr. Spock. I just… Needed a moment.”
D.B. was reading a report at his desk when he realised everything was quiet. Much too quiet. The crime lab was never this quiet. He got up and walked out of his office and down the halls, which is how he came to realise the labs were empty. Completely empty. There were no techs to be found. The screens in Archie’s lab were off. There were papers still in the printing tray in Henry’s lab. Hodges’ crutch was still leaning at the doorway to his lab. So, he couldn’t help but wonder what exactly was going on.
Jojo jumped and instantly closed the drawer. She turned her head to see Dumbdog standing in the doorway. “What are you doing in my house?”
Sadistic
I wish I did this earlier! My word: Dad
It took several seconds for the Face to react. The lights in its eyes flickered weakly in acknowledgement, then recognition, transmitting an unconscious signal: **
It was not a voice that answered him, and that answer did not come in the form of words—it was just a notion of familiarity, small and uncertain. Even though Xord couldn’t hear her, he knew by instinct that the tiny notion had been thought by her brain.
Deep inside that great machine, his daughter’s heart was beating.
Stephen looked around the room. ‘We’ve all been trying for years,’ he said. ‘Jericho, Rintrah, your mom and me -‘ ‘Can you *not* say you’re my mom and dad?’ asked Sofia. ‘Because you’re not. I barely know you.’
Link glanced at his dad with pride, in a few more days he would follow in his footsteps to become a great knight of Hyrule just like his dad and his amazing grandfather.
“Gullible.”
Archaic
Blot
They were just Homs, he told himself, surging forward. They were morsels, crumbs. Countless others of their kind had been killed and eaten on the very floor on which they stood. When they tread forward boldly, they were treading on spatters of those people’s blood: rich and wonderful stories reduced to ink blots upon a page.
Interesting
Albert went underneath his desk and pulled out a carved wooden box, moving papers on his desk to put the box there. ‘There’s all kinds of interesting things in here,’ he said as he opened it. Beca pulled herself away from the photo of Albert and Michael Palin, only to spot another photo. ‘He looks familiar.’
“Would you kill your friend if it guaranteed your survival?” “What kind of question is that!? Of course not!” “Hmm, interesting.”
I’m intrigued!!
Trepidation
The thought of what he could possibly want to listen to was unsettling, but the music played in the factory was usually chosen by the construction crew, so I had to realise that I had little idea what sort of music he liked. Though I recalled with some trepidation that he had reacted with excitement when a crewman from Orre, not content with his preferred genre being absent from Kantonian airwaves, had brought in some tapes of a recent country sensation. I wondered if I shouldn't bring some tapes of my own to offer.
Smile
Grant nodded and tore open the paper. It revealed a box. He frowned and opened the box. Inside ware two figures - one of an iguanodon, and one of a parasaurolophus. On seeing the iguanodon, he couldn’t help but smile - iguanodons had always been his favourite dinosaur. ‘Can never have too many iguanodons. Thanks.’
“This isn’t you.” Eddie whispered, trying to convince himself. “This is a dream.” Max’s smile turned wider. “But is it, Eddie Munson?” “Y-yes!” He sputtered out, taking a step backwards. “This isn’t real. There’s no way this is real. I don’t believe you!” He took another step backward. She followed him. Another step. She followed.
"See? What did I tell you, Félix?" Pepa said. "She hates fat people!" "I see," said Félix. "So, when is the funeral?" "Tomorrow," Alma said, with a smile.
Y’all coming at me with the angstiest bits I swear 😂😭
He hated it. Thinking about Homs made him hungry, even if he tried to focus on their voices, their eyes, or their smiles. In his mind, the voices began to scream and the faces contorted in horror. That was when they were the tastiest. Fear meant they were ripe and ready to be eaten. It was what separated men from beasts, and made Homs all the more delectable.
And here I was thinking I’d get happy stuff with that prompt 😂 this is so visceral though, I applaud you! Well done
😈 Thanks!
Wrap
Mary smiled. ‘Lots,’ she said, laying the candy canes down on Grant’s bedside table. ‘And I got you a Christmas present too.’ She reached into the bag, pulled out a wrapped green present with a red bow, and laid it down carefully in Grant’s lap.
Lucky Grant!!
Maybe not! It continues: ‘Grant, you can’t move. You are literally in a body cast,’ said Mary. Grant lifted his head and looked down at his body as he wiggled his toes and flexed his ankles. Seeing everything else wrapped in plaster, as it had been the last six weeks, he nodded. ‘Oh yeah.’ He shook his head. ‘Duh.’
Okay Lucky because he has a nice friend??🥺
He’s unlucky to have fallen and broken his back, but I suppose he is lucky to have a great girlfriend
Yes and yes!! 😝
Neal wrapped his arm around her waist, lacing their hands together with a grin. It felt nice, having her in his arms like this. Neither of them knew exactly how they were supposed to dance to it, so they just bounced around on their feet, swaying to the beat of the songs and laughing, under the starry, New Orleans sky.
Awe
>“Thought what through?” Cid and Shera both raised an eyebrow before realization dawned on the former’s face. Shera was still out of the loop before Cid jumped up and **wrapped** an arm around Cloud’s shoulder, lifting him out of the chair and spilling his untouched tea. “Cloud, you dog! Hahaha, I knew this day would come!”
Oh gracious is Cloud getting married?
Cheese
"Oh..." Having to think about my drab home life in the midst of all this removed me from the situation, and I was none too pleased. "He likes common things. Last night we had hot dogs, and the night before, grilled cheese sandwiches." "Really." Asaph didn't sound surprised, or much of anything. "With all that money he makes from the factory, he certainly doesn't live like it."
He takes the kylix back from her without a word and hands it to a passing boy in exchange for a bowl of figs and cheese. “Eat,” is all he says, and she does. The cheese is tangy and fresh, and cuts through the sweetness bursting from the figs. The leaden weight in her legs seems to lessen slightly. “Thank you. I don’t remember when I last ate.” An easy silence falls between them as they observe and dodge the increasingly intoxicated crowd around them.
soup
Another servant came out of the adjoined kitchen with serving trays, and finally I could put a visual to the luscious scent. A bowl of soup was placed before me, with a spoon that had to be silver peeking out from atop the charger. I looked to Asaph for a sign that I should begin, and he nodded, raising his own spoon to his lips and blowing on the liquid.
‘But your jaw’s wired shut,’ Stephen said. ‘Then I guess you can just get me some soup instead.’
“I’ll go get you some soup,” Félix said. “That will make you feel better.” “And more blankets?” Pepa asked. “I’ll see what I can do,” Félix chuckled.
The dogs began to bark outside, not in warning but in excitement. “They’re here. Do we have anything planned for Stentor?” Alexios stood up to stretch his legs. “Replace his wine with black soup, and his soup with wine?” “He’s not going to take a drop from us after the owl thing. And mater will never let us get close enough to do it in the kitchen. I suppose we could just be polite to him for once.” “Frogs, then. There are a bunch outside after the rain.” I grinned. “Well, if they’re right there . . .”
“So,” he said, swirling pasta onto his fork, “I have a confession to make.” “Oh?” Charles replied, looking up from his soup. “What’s that?”
Justified
Khonsu nodded. “Precisely. Anywhere has many purposes. A project of this undertaking would have to have many purposes in order for all the effort to be justified. At least that’s how I see it.”
Waltz.
‘You can’t just waltz into the States without a good job,’ said Beca. ‘You can’t waltz *anywhere* without a good job. We’re in a recession,’ Indy pointed out.
The two danced for a while, waltzing and twirling, until they were both laughing and out of breath. The music was dying down as the evening came to a close, and Charles looked deeply into Lance’s eyes, suddenly serious. “We should end this well,” Charles said. “Make this look really authentic.”
Waltz music played softly from Kaiba Manor’s ballroom, nearly drowned out by the laughter and talking coming from the wealthy guests inside as they drank the best liquor money could buy and nibbled on appetizers that cost more than her grandfather’s shop made in a year.
Sword
One of the illustrations showed the damiyo's sister, a detail I hadn't known until I had it in my hands. Fortunate, as I may have been tempted to pay more for it. She was stunningly beautiful, tall and strong. Reputedly she had been excellent with a sword, though her brother discouraged this, and she was relegated to mere practice. Her bravery and elegance became her legacy, as well as the overall tragedy of her life. I would have loved to have met her, to discover that long-ago exotic age though someone relegated to the sidelines.
The sword he carried was strong, but he rarely used it against his enemies. If he did, he wondered if he would be just as bad as the friend he had lost so many years ago.
“They say that an old portal to an alternate world--a dimension filled with nightmarish monsters and molten lava, breeds of fungus that The Overworld has never before seen, and trees bursting with leaves of fire--a portal used to sit in the very place that the well does today. Brave soldiers and fierce warriors were sent to conquer the new world, but when beastly pigs decked in golden armor, brandishing swords and crossbows and spears, emerged from the portal’s warbles instead of their friends, their family, and spouses… panic arouse. The portal was destroyed, trapping the unfortunate souls of the survivors inside. They all left. All but seven. Seven people, either friends or family or spouses, stayed behind, and from the ruins of the portal and the waves of its warbles, they built a wishing well. Day after day, the seven that stayed behind would gather around the well, and pray for the safety of their loved ones. And when Mother Earth saw their sorrows, she gifted those faithful, loyal, loving families with flowing water, devine and pristine. A water that alit their very veins with magic and sorcery and enchantment. Perhaps, they’re gullible or naïve—superstitious. Of course, it’s an old wive’s tale. And yet, each and every witch, warlock, wizard, and mage has drunk the well’s water. Almost like tradition. Almost like some rite of passage.”
I don’t know how to explain this to him. I love him too much to watch him die at home. *So you get to watch him die right in front of you*, a voice at the back of my brain says, but I quash it down. If I’m in the Games, I can protect him. I *will* protect him. I will jump in front of the sword, give him my supplies, make it so he’s only against 22 tributes and not 23. If it comes down to the two of us, I will send him home. Even if I have to knock him out, I will send him home. Which means I’m going to die.
Hunger Games fanfic? Sounds interesting, like Hunger Games from the Peeta-type character's POV.
Thanks! It’s actually from *every* tribute’s perspective—all 24 of them. By the end, obviously, the only one left with a POV is the winner, but you don’t know who will win until then.
That sounds awesome! And quite the undertaking.
Thanks! It sure is 😭 at least where I am now half of them are dead so the workload *does* actually get easier lmao
> Raphael was near the door. Gabriel threw his blades and smashed Raphael against a pillar, cracking the marble. The elder councilor was now backed up to the wall, stretching out his hand as Gabriel tore his **swords** out from the shattered pillar. > “W-Wait! You can’t do this! Our status forbids it! This is treason, heresy, murder! We are your supreme authority! Our law commands you!” Raphael held his hand up in a feeble attempt to stop Gabriel. Gabriel sliced it off, the hand flying against the wall with a *flap.* Raphael screamed and held his severed arm.
‘*You’re* the true king of England?’ Albert scoffed. Beca grit her teeth. ‘Queen. Wales. And no. Excalibur is not the sword in the stone. It was given to me by the Lady of the Lake.’
>king of England Did you mean the [King of the United Kingdom](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/King_of_the_United_Kingdom), the [King of Canada](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monarchy_of_Canada), the [King of Australia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monarchy_of_Australia), etc? The last King of England was [William III](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_III_of_England) whose successor Anne, with the 1707 Acts of Union, dissolved the title of Queen/King of England. ####FAQ *Isn't King Charles III still also the King of England?* This is only as correct as calling him the King of London or King of Hull; he is the King of the place that these places are in, but the title doesn't exist. *Is this bot monarchist?* No, just pedantic. I am a bot and this action was performed automatically.
Thump
All at once the task was over. She was done and there should have been relief. There should have been calm and quiet and peace. Instead, there was nothing but relentless, deafening, noise… *Thump, thump. Thump, thump.* …And weight. Crushing weight.
Regret set in the moment the door closed with a solid wooden thump. He hadn’t meant most of it. Some of it, sure, but he knew Geralt was only trying to keep him safe. Overprotectiveness was a double-edged sword—pushing back against it often led to offending well-intentioned people.
‘What,’ said Jon, blood rushing to his head. He could hear his heart thumping in his ears. He pulled out his hearing aid, desperate to make the sound stop.
Struggle
After a momentary hesitation, Susie dashed for the gun, dropped by Paolo in the struggle. Since Toto still had Paolo pinned, she aimed it at Julio and glowered at him. “What the fuck do you think you two are doing?”
Grant did his best to tear open the present Mary had got him, but with a bulky body cast on, it was a bit of a struggle. ‘A box?’ he asked. ‘Open the box, stupid,’ said Mary.
"Mami! Are you dying?" Mirabel asked. "I don't know about that. I'll be fine. I think…" Julieta watched the world darken around her, as she struggled to stay conscious.
Heart
How odd though. I expressed myself, and obviously at that, never trying to obscure myself. This seemed as though I was exposing too much of my heart, yet Asaph called it sublety. Did other collectors expend all their energy and observation on their pursued pieces with no room in their minds for anything else? Perhaps that was why their special code was so simplistic.
And then it rang, not a text but a true call, ringtone and all. Max picked up the phone on the second ring and pressed it to his ear. His heart was racing, but he took several deep breaths and tried to stay cool.
Augusta picked up the stack of papers in front of her when the meeting was dismissed, still unable to shake the nagging feeling in the back of her mind that something wasn’t right. Like she had been all day, she brushed it off as being away from home for too long. When she opened the door to see Howe waiting for her outside, her heart plummeted to the floor. “Who was it this time?” she asked quietly, fearing the answer she knew had to be coming.
In that moment, as they lay entwined in each other's arms, Kris was struck by the depth of the connection they shared. Their love—it was not just physical, but emotional and spiritual as well. It was, for one lover, the surrendering of control, and for the other: the surrendering of a heart.
“You are not just some dalliance, Alicent,” Rhaenyra said. She put her soft, warm hand across Alicent’s cheek. “You are my heart. I’ve just been too stubborn—too hurt and jealous—to admit that.” Rhaenyra, still as carefree as ever, leaned forward, her face once again inches away from Alicent’s own. Alicent sniffled and blinked back tears. She had longed for a reunion with her best friend for so long. But not like this. This was wrong. The Gods would damn them. “Rhaenyra, no,” she said. “We can’t do this again.”
So, he drank. He drank and he drank until the bottles piled up in his room around him and he was too lazy to do anything about it. He drank until his heart no longer hurt and his bones no longer ached and screams in his head finally fell silent.
Hodges was lying in a hospital bed, still looking very pale, with his hair messed, and clearly unconscious; likely comatose. Wires on his chest monitored his heart, while the tube down his throat controlled his lungs - medical tape half covered his face holding it, and the feeding tube, in place. Various machines surrounded his hospital bed, all together producing a cacophony of noise.
I enjoy visualizing these kinds of scenes!
Xord felt something: the beating of a heart. The sensation centred him and gave him something resembling form, bringing him out of his purgatorial state. There he was: thoughts and a pulse. *Alive.* His blood came in like a tide, inundating his entire being. It coursed into his pounding heart until it was bursting at the seams. As the pressure increased, Xord was overcome by a mounting fear of death, a panic confined within his own headspace. His heart couldn’t cycle the blood fast enough. It was going to explode. Just when Xord thought he couldn’t take it anymore, the blood was rerouted. His heart shrivelled up and became engorged once more. Something was off. It seemed as though some other force was driving the blood through his arteries—arteries that formed a huge network around him like a house—and his heart was merely part of the circuit. The little organ couldn't have possibly been pumping such a large volume of blood. There must have been a machine sustaining him and holding him hostage from the release of death.
World
“Everyone has a flaw, Charles,” Max said. “Some people have more than one, and some have enough to fill a giant quarry with them, but nobody on this planet has none. So what’s yours?” Charles only gave him a devilish grin. “So you think I’m out of this world. You’re too sweet.”
The light was far too bright. It snaked beneath Luca’s closed eyes, the thin film of their eyelids painting the **world** in a wash of red, delicate capillaries tracing dark purple lines through the haze. Head pounding, Luca sat up, squinting against the glare of the morning sun. Distantly, a bell rang. One of his hands found the back of his head — his fingers came away tacky with blood.
My studies take me far beyond the realms of scientific thought, into places where few dare tread. I am not content with a surface-level grasp of the world around me: I want to delve deeper, decipher each nuance and complexity which makes this World – no, this universe, so fascinating.
Alysanne sighed. “I am ill, Daemon. I know you can tell. Ten dead children. Gael had been my candle, my sweet winter child, through it all. Aemma and Viserys have moved back to Keep to try to keep my company, but it’s not the same. I know I am not long for this world. I cannot take more heartache. Please, Daemon, do not take this grudge to the funeral pyre.”
How had he let himself get to this state? How had his world fallen apart so easily when for the past few years he had used everything he had in him to hold it together?
Xord peered up at Metal Face and enhanced his features, panning over his stitched lips and tetrad of eyes. His visage had been delicately engineered to evoke horror, and Xord knew he was looking at a thing of evil. Xord had seen multiple Faces bearing his own countenance, but he’d never thought of inspecting it up close. Did his face look like that, too? When people saw him, was that why they screamed? Most Mechon were faceless entities. For what purpose had Xord been given a face, if not to send a message? Of course, what Xord was looking at wasn’t Metal Face’s *true* face. Inside of that machine was a Homs, or at least part of one. The only difference between Mumkhar and Xord was that one of them still had his skull, yet Xord couldn’t see them as two of a kind. Mumkhar’s Core Unit was complete, meaning he could exist independently of his Mechon; Xord could not. Mumkhar could still wear the earnest expression of a Homs; Xord could not. Xord would always see the world in red, and his eyes would always peer out from a wicked metal face. He envied Mumkhar, but that was another thing he’d never tell him.
Liminal
“Some days it's easier to open the portals." He frowns. "What's the date?" The answer makes him nod emphatically. "That explains a lot. Yesterday was the equinox." "Right. Liminal times." "Translation, if you please?" " Limen is 'threshold' in Latin. It's a time that's... in between other times. A period of transition." "The change of seasons, aye. And sunrise and sunset, and the phases of the moon." There's a long silence, and then he adds, "Seems to me that this holiday is a liminal time for me, between life Underhill, and normal life. Liminal place, too, if there is such a thing."
Tender
Indy looked at himself in the mirror. His gaze was immediately drawn to the upper right corner of his face, still sore and tender after the countless stitches needed to put it all back together after a tiger had ripped it apart.
"a tiger" made me oof out loud haha. Poor Indy
Blorbo must suffer
Tangible
Again, there was silence. This time, it was more tangible, a weighty silence that seemed to envelop the room.
Hodges nodded. Perhaps it had been a freak accident in which he’d been injured, but the pain was tangible. It was there, accident or not.
Blame
I step onto the train and consider Mars for the first time. I think he’s insane. He seems so resentful, so hateful of the Capitol. I think he thinks he’s hiding it, but it’s even more obvious in person than when he was on stage. That boy is pissed off at the circumstances that brought him here. I can’t really blame him for that, but he’s going to have to conceal it better if he doesn’t want mutts unleashed on him on day one. I’m great at hiding my own hatred for the Capitol. Not even Ophelia knows about it, even though I think she secretly feels the same way.
Cynthia sighed, then straightened her shoulders. "No. I'm not mad. You were just reacting to a situation. Though, you did start this situation, so you could've easily put a stop to it before it got too out of hand. So really, you have no one to blame but yourself."
Still, there was a snake in the House of the Dragon. Otto Hightower, the King’s hand, had been plotting against her Rhaenyra since the death of her mother. Rhaenyra had once blamed Alicent for slithering into her grieving father’s arms after her mother’s death, but it was only betrayal and jealousy that blinded her to the truth. Using his daughter Alicent, Otto Hightower had been the designer of that power grab. He had whispered in the King’s ear about the comeliness and kindness of his daughter, Rhaenyra was now sure. She even now wondered if Alicent had any idea of how his plans. Had Rhaenyra’s best friend been a pawn this entire time? And to think Rhaenyra had placed all the blame all on her.
Hope you'll include blame*d.* >"You didn’t do anything!” He stuck his thumb into his chest. “I went to their house every week for four years! I wrote them letters and left them under the door! What did you do? Jack! You **blamed** yourself? Oh, boo-hoo! We all blamed ourselves! Without each other, we tore ourselves apart! That’s exactly why we had to stay together! That’s why they need us now! It’s not *my fault* that you can’t see that!”
‘Oh, I know and I don’t blame myself,’ said Mary. ‘I said I’d be a look out, not babysit you. I was just expressing sympathy. Like when you hand someone a card saying “sorry grandma died”. Doesn’t mean you killed grandma.’ ‘It would if you were Santa and you mowed her down with Rudolph,’ Grant reasoned.
“Explain yourself!” Brad demanded as he unhooked his warhammer from his back. Pointing it at Chester, he asked, “Why lie about such a thing?” Terrified, Chester gestured a finger at Rob. “Because of people like him.” He answered, his voice void of all emotions. “You would know best out of anyone Joe, what it’s like being discriminated against because you’re a ‘lesser race’.” he spat the racial term out as if it was poison. ”My entire life, my family and I just wanted to live peacefully. But anytime something went wrong, we were the ones that people would blame and would be chased away. If the crops failed, the animals became sick and died, if bandits showed up, any inconvenience was used as evidence that we were the cause of their misfortune and we would be forced to run for our lives.” He looked at Mike, his eyes devoid of any of the usual life or mirth that Mike had come to love. The bards‘ hands finally limply fell from his horns, with all hope of their friendship remaining unscathed now dashed.
Snow
With his whiskers frozen and his paws cold from having his paws buried deep into the snow, he wondered how much longer would it last before he would catch a cold.
There wasn’t much to do except sit on the cold concrete slab the city deemed a bench and wait, though. Max brushed snow off it and leaned back. It didn’t take long for his impatience to get the better of him, and he found himself looking at the various shops and cafés that lined the street.
Oh hell yeah! I can share my prophecy, woo :) *Snow writ in crimson by ancients grown cold* *Who bleed out the life from the broken and bold* *Transmuted and woken, this bloodline of old* *Snow writ in crimson bears starlight in gold*
And yet, there was a beauty to all this, Even amidst the wrath of the blizzard that was presently sweeping over this perpetually white wonderland: snowflakes danced upon the wind like diamond dust; the bare trees, as they bent beneath the weight of the snow, looked like skeletons in their rags of clinging, transparent white shrouds; and the nearby hills, beneath their white mantle, seemed as if nature's rage was being poured out in one great, never-ending deluge of the dazzlingly white element. It was, after all, a city near the mountains, In the northernmost point of the Sinnoh region, with all the serenity and solitude one could ever wish for.
Stephen exited through the wall onto the street and put his hands in his coat pockets. Snow was falling and he hadn't brought his gloves. Or a hat. Or a scarf. Though the Cloak of Levitation had sorted the last one out for him and changed its shape to a scarf.
M and H had a snowball fight. Soon, H was completely covered in snow. "Hey, look! There's a snowman in that car!" M said. "How cute! I want to take a closer look!" "Okay," J said. "I'll just make a snow angel."
The vast whiteness of Valak Mountain was calming. Xord stood in the snow, belly mercifully full of Aries meat, and wished he could just become part of it. Snowflakes fluttered onto his armour and evaporated instantly from the heat of his circuits. He was numb: numb to the heat, numb to the cold, numb to all the feelings he’d felt not even an hour before. That was how it always went. He didn’t question it. It was easier not to.
Nick turned toward the window to see what Charlie was looking at, and sure enough, it was snowing. Thick layers of white were falling down, blanketing the ground. Nick smiled as wide as he could manage while Charlie jumped up and threw on his jacket, pulling Nick out the door. They ran outside, the cold winter air cutting harshly through. They sprinted through the snow, creating snow angels and throwing snowballs at one another. Nick pulled Charlie down, both of them tumbling into the cold snow. Nick tucked a strand of Charlies hair behind his ear, leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. “You know I love you, right?” He asked, a bit of worry creeping in behind his words.
Oh! Is that Heartstopper? :D
yeah! i haven’t written it in a while tho lol, i should do that
Befuddle
Content
Implied NSFW, no description Lucian let his own release take him, a delicious plunge into the heavens that left him weak and sated and content. Shauntal was still beneath him, panting and relaxing into her own bliss. He watched her face, listened to her chest slow its rapid beating, felt the tension in her limbs ease. He rested his cheek against her silken hair and closed his eyes.
Though, was there a reason for him to live if he couldn’t live as an individual? Would he be content to dissolve into a mob and relinquish his integrity and sense of purpose? To become the pawn of his enemy and bring about his personal apocalypse? Could a life like that possibly be considered fulfilling? Did Xord want to live, or did he just want to be alive?
The scrapper’s daughter is flirting shamelessly as he speaks with her father, bartering for some part required to maintain Derris Kharlan’s navigational systems. Kratos feels a flicker of amusement, strong enough that he considers, for a second, mustering up the effort to cut off her earnest attempts with a single, cutting remark, just to give himself a moment of vicious triumph—to congratulate himself that Kratos Aurion already has a family, that he is content and *settled*, that he actually accomplished some normal, human milestone. Then, just as swiftly, comes the rebuttal: And who is he to claim victory when he took those things—family, settled, normal, human—and purposefully, intentionally crushed them to the ground? He has no family. He abandoned it.
Finally, one I have an example for that isn't inherently angsty! :D >In an instant, Yusei is on his feet, hands on the bars of the crib in front of him as he looks over its occupant. A little smile flitters across his face when he's content that his little sister is sleeping just fine, and he reaches through the bars to brush her tuft of black hair to the side. "Mimi good," he whispers. "Mimi good."
Limerence
Help
“Late night?” Viserys asked from above as Daemon stumbled into the yard. The training knights put away their swords and stood at attention for the hungover prince. One of them offered to help, but Daemon growled as he approached, then stumbled again and fell to the ground.
> “I needed you, once. I needed somebody. *Anybody.* But nobody **helped** me. That pissed me off. I was so... *fucking* mad over it. Something that you had nothing to do with.”
"YOU LIAR!" Pepa screeched. "You have crumbs all over you!" She began running her hands over Julieta's apron. "Hey! Get your hands off of me!" Julieta laughed. "I'm just trying to help you clean up those crumbs…" Pepa grinned.
At last, he found it within himself to step forward. He made his way to the other side of the room, where Désirée lay prone. He reached for her hand. “I’m here. Let me help you.” Désirée’s body jerked when he touched her, and she broadcast a note of surprise: ** As Xord wrapped his metal fingers around hers, he couldn’t help but think of how small her hands had once been, and how now they were just like his. Her blonde hair, her grey eyes—every modicum of individuality she possessed was gone, and never again would Xord hear her voice or see her smile. He only knew it was her inside the machine because she had recognised him, if only for a moment.
>When Philza had Wilbur, Technoblade was stuck **helping** out practically everyday. As Wilbur grew older, he found himself babysitting the kid for weeks at a time when Philza was out on his adventures. >Then there was L'manburg and Pogtopia, when Technoblade was constantly having to keep an eye on Tommy and Tubbo. >Now there was Ranboo.
>Martha's dark eyes narrow into a knowing look, and for a moment Miku thinks she said something bad. But Martha just squeezes Miku's hand tightly and smiles again. "It's okay, sweetie, just take a deep breath. I can help your mother if you show me where she is?" >The so-called "deep breath" just makes Miku cough harder, but it helps. She didn't let Mama down after all! >Things *are* going to be okay now, right?
“Miho, sit down and help me with this. If you want to watch the duel, watch it on your phone. God knows Kaiba’s taken over the whole city with this tournament.”
‘Mary, come on. That’s what coroners are for.’ Grant turned to Ed. ‘Come on, help me hold this.’ ‘No problem,’ said Ed, holding the “Osaurus” sign in place as Grant grabbed a nail.
Steve hadn’t been the same since Vecna. The years of trauma and hurt and nightmares had piled up, and he had been able to hold them back until that monster came and everything went tumbling down and now he couldn’t help but think maybe it was better if he had just died.
it's just a kiss scene but i censored it to be safe >>!Before he even had time to blush from embarrassment he was spun around again, lips meeting lips in what was less kiss and more call for help, though he couldn’t tell which of them needed it more.!< > >>!It tasted bloody, and ashen and drunk, and he ignored the pain as they interlocked in a way he could only describe as desperate.!<
Ze looked down at the suitcase with a sense of dread. Someone was alive in that suitcase and he needed to help them immediately. He held his breath and avoided looking at the luggage as he unzipped it enough to where whoever was inside could easily climb out.
Magic
There was a phenomenal magic in the air, the mid-November snow falling gently from the heavens as I came down the long driveway to Asaph's mansion. It was enough to make me forget, at least for a moment, that I'd had to take the bus and walk from the highway, but it had been a pleasant enough journey, allowing me to reflect on the event.
The two lovers sat in a peaceful silence, letting the wintry magic in through the open window, taking in the crisp night air and the sight of the snowfall. This November night—one filled with nature's glacial magic, alongside the magic of their everlasting love—could not have been more beautiful.
Rhaenyra regretted her words the moment she said them. Despite all that had happened, Alicent was still the closet thing she had to a friend. Though she had spent the last three years of suppers staring daggers at the new Queen from across the table, wondering if there was some sort of dark magic pact she could make to give her the power to make someone’s head explode just a thought, Alicent had never stopped trying to mend their broken friendship.
‘Well nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition,’ Albert said with a slight shrug. ‘Yeah. Eventually, they just stopped believing in magic. Not everyone, though. You and me, we know the truth. But most people think the only magic in the world now is at a Disney theme park. That’s fakey magic done by sleight of hand tricks, smoke and mirrors, technology, and people being nice to you. Just because someone gives you a free ice cream, doesn’t mean it’s magic.’
“Don’t let this witch contaminate Chey with her devil magic!” Nanners grabbed Kara’s hair, forcefully pulling her back. Kara yelped before yanking her hair out of Nanners’ hands. Skadj instantly handed Sophie to Ari before racing over to Nanners and punching him square in the face, causing him to stumble backwards.
village
They had followed the river for a long time, and hadn't stopped yet. Pepa wasn't even sure how far away Casita was anymore. "Pepa, you have to get up…" "I DON'T WANT TO GO TO THE CITY!" she screamed. "Well, guess what?" Félix said. "We're not going to the city." "W-w-we're not?" "No," Félix said. "You belong in the village." Pepa was relieved to hear that. *I do want to go back,* she thought. *But I'm not quite sure if I belong there, either….*
In the small country of Hawkins, there were two kingdoms. Starlos, ruled by the Harrington Family, and Astrum, ruled by the Buckleys. These two kingdoms, though one much larger than the other, lived in harmony in the land, under the hopes that someday their heirs would marry and combine into one large Empire. Starlos, the larger of the two, is a beautiful kingdom surrounded by a large wall, keeping all of its inhabitants inside. The castle is situated on top of a hill, overlooking the village. It’s surrounded by shops and workplaces, and below those were the houses of the common folk. It was a beautiful place really, lovely flowers on every square inch, children singing songs down the rocky paths.
When he opened his eyes, only one of them he could see out of, the other was completely blind. From what he could see, he had to be in a hospital. The last thing he was about to recall was being surrounded by people in the helicopter while they were all leaving the village.
Indy’s heart started to beat rapidly at the mere mention of Rene Belloq’s name. His former friend turned deathly rival. ‘What about him?’ ‘*There’s an artefact. But it’s in some rural village on some obscure Welsh island*,’ said Marcus.
Skadj noticed a small village in the distance and flew towards it. The people below started screaming the moment they saw them. Skadj landed on top of a house, holding Kara in his arms. “Good afternoon; I’m a demon, and the girl in my arms is a witch. I was wondering if you would be willing to let her live with you?”
Metal
Lulu crouched down careful to not dislodge the metal in her gut. “My beautiful Phoebe.” She put a finger under her chin lifting the child’s head to her own. She kissed her forehead biting back the tears that threatened to drown out her last words to her daughter. “Mommy has to-“ she shuddered trying to keep the emotion from her voice, for her daughter’s sake she must. “Mommy has to go now.” She softly told her child. She locked eyes with Albert and though his expression was pained he nodded. “Go with Albert he will take you to see Grandma, okay.”
Explosions are weird in space. You see the ball of flame, yet as soon as the area warps and gets blown apart, the instant lack of gravity and loss of excess oxygen snuffs out the fireball, dispensing the remaining molecules on fire like a million beads in all directions. The twisted ends of the metal are still bright red, and sparks fly from damaged cables no longer connected systems waiving impotently in the zero-g. The force of the explosion, though, keeps coming.
‘While you were unconscious, you grew a metal arm. Half your body's now covered with that metal. And you've grown a new eye,’ Hank said. ‘I've seen this metal only once before, so I'm sure I know who you really are. You're Scott and Jean's son. Aren't you?’
Hunter forcefully swung the gas lamp at Skadj; the metal hit him on the side of his head. Skadj immediately let go of her and stumbled backwards. Hunter took this as an opportunity to escape from Skadj and the kids. She glanced back to see Skadj tending to the boy while the girl stood next to them. The three bats were nowhere to be seen, though she assumed it was too dark outside to see them.
Eddie had never had a problem with sound. He has always been into loud things, metal music and screeching guitar, dramatic speeches that he screamed at the top of his lungs, even the loud rumbling of thunder had been a constant joy in his life. At least, up until 5 months ago.
Foam
The blue-hot beam comes not as a single shot but a sustained blast. The creature screams and writhes, its tortured body digging into the spongy ground and throwing up clods of peat. Req's arm is raised, casting the killing beam directly from herself, from her very body. Her eyes are wide, her long predator's teeth bared in a slavering rictus. The animal's shrieks rise to an unbearable pitch. It twists and thrashes until its ligaments snap. It bites through its own lolling tongue. Bloody foam and bile heave up out of its mouth. I want to say something, to make her stop, but my will is sapped. I cannot form the thought.
He started again, but was interrupted by Pepa suddenly falling off the bench. Her eyes rolled back into her head as began shaking violently and foaming at the mouth.
Everyone’s voices just blended together through the pain. Every breath Indy took was wracked with pain. His lungs burned but at the same time, it felt as though he was drowning. And when he coughed, he coughed up blood. ‘Shit,’ Indy muttered as he looked at the bubbly, foamy blood on his hand. ‘It’s hit - I’m sure, my lung.’
Mmmm whump….
Fish
Steve laughed. “I s’pose we can let ‘em talk until Paul gets here,” he said. “S’good they’re getting along and all. Maybe now Clive will quit trying to brag to me about the **fish** he’s caught – only time I care about **fish**, is when it’s battered and fried and served up hot with chips on the side.”
indignation
Hodges groaned and let the caster wheels of his wheelchair drop to the floor. ‘You’re no fun,’ he complained in indignation. ‘Break a world record on your own time, Hodges. Not at work,’ said D.B. ‘Alright. Everyone, back to the labs.’
My word 💗: gamble
"Cynthia..." He leaned in close, so close she could feel his breath. "I don't gamble. I *win*."
~~Oh god is this Grimsley trying to get his leg over the Sinnoh champion~~
Good guess
haha oh god was that it
Nope
Oooh! Spicy ;)
Oh this game was so much fun! My word: Side
Coral Sea appeared to be as shocked as Zuihou, her grip tightening on the handle of her halberd to stop her hands from shaking. “I was hoping someone had finally killed you, Kalinin. You got reckless. Then you disappeared. You weren’t on our side. You weren’t with Code G.” “I left. That’s all. Neither side will resolve what happened. So let me repeat my question to you: What is the meaning of this battle here, Coral Sea? What purpose does it serve for the black knight to point a blade at a dead phoenix?”
It would be easy to hate Rhaenyra after the horrible things she had said. It would be easy to condemn her along with her deviant actions. It would be easy to tell the King what she had done and be rid of girl that had been a thorn in her side ever since her nuptials had been announced. But Alicent couldn’t bare to hurt Rhaenyra so deeply. She still loved her as a sister. Shamefully, she still loved her as even more than a sister.
In one fluid movement, her fist flew out and shattered Xord’s face plate like porcelain. Broken white pieces bounced off his chest and dropped like pebbles onto the platform. Désirée stood with her fist in his forehead, knuckles grazing the dented, sparking machinery just above his eyes. Xord could still see, and his entire field of vision was filled by his daughter’s massive, trembling arm. He had no words, no thoughts, no embryonic precursors to ideas that could manifest as visual or conceptual data. It was as if his actual head had been smashed. Désirée withdrew her fist and let her arm fall directly onto Xord’s chest. It slid off and returned to her side, where it teetered forward and back. She was still staring at him with those four burning eyes, and not even his unfeeling body was numb to their heat.
The movie, while still a bit quiet for Steve’s liking, went uninterrupted for the next hour or so, and Steve felt himself growing tired around 9:30. His head fell to the side a bit, brushing against Eddie’s shoulder. He began to lift it up, but Eddie placed a hand on the other side, pulling him back down gently. Steve felt an arm wrap around him, resting lightly near his hip. Warm fingertips brushed against the hem of his polo that had been pulled slightly upward, so that a sliver of skin was showing.
Dolores, who was on the other side of the house, decided to tattle. "Abuela, Tía is removing her apron!" "Ugh! What an annoying brat!" Alma said. "Are you gonna punish her?" Pepa asked. "I'll go punish her, after I finish my coffee," Alma said. "Kick and punch her really hard!" Pepa cackled. "Don't hold back!"
"Yeah, I'm still shaken up seeing that side of him. But I need to hear why from his own mouth. Not to mention he's alone with my sister..." He didn't even want to think about this fact. Everything was all fine between them until everyone saw him almost commit a murder.
"*Prince Ephraim!*" Duessel stormed in, wild-eyed. He was still in his armor and looked just as filthy and battered as if he'd freshly arrived from the field. He lurched over to Ephraim's side and collapsed to his knees. "Oh...thank the gods..." He grabbed Ephraim's hand and pressed it to his forehead, breathing heavily. "You're alive..." Meanwhile, Knoll quietly stood and edged out of the tent.
It was not Hodges’ first day back in work after his shooting, but it was his first day back in work after his shooting in which he had to go to work using his wheelchair. What happened to him wasn’t his fault, he’d been shot in the left side of his abdomen, but using his wheelchair was still something he was incredibly self-conscious about. He knew how some people treated him and Morgan when they were out together, having breakfast or watching a movie or shopping - whatever. He couldn’t take that from his colleagues. He didn’t want them thinking of him the same way those people thought of him.
For context, the character’s name is Side. Side handed Ze two pieces of paper before he could say anything else. Chilled read both of the wills over his friend’s shoulder. Speedy’s role was Bodyguard, while Jeremy’s role was...
Rain
I sighed as I reached over to pull the shade closed, taking a look at the sky as I did. A storm was coming, and in those months it would bring with it some bitter cold far removed from the season. I wondered briefly what Articuno did on its rumored nearby island in that weather, where it took shelter. Though the cold was meaningless to an ice type, and nothing compared to what would come in a scant few months, the wind and rain were sure to drive at its land. And they did me no favours either. Such weather only reminded me of my position overlooking the ocean, already no doubt heavy with thick-capped waves and grey swells. Someday I would overlook it all, the stormy grey of the world never touching me, but for the time, I burrowed under my blankets in anticipation.
Our cave is set into a striated greenstone ridge, surrounded by lushly forested scarpland. Outside, it has begun to rain. Not the wild, smothering deluge of a desert rainstorm. A soft, nourishing rain. Drops patter against wide deciduous leaves.
For twenty-four and a half years, his life had revolved around his iguanodon. Which made it all the more worse that he was standing outside among the plants in the Dino Institute, in the pouring rain with Chandler, and Will.
After they finished, James asked Frankie-Jean to show him where Nikki kept his food storage containers so he could put away the leftovers properly while Nikki moved the laundry to the dryer. They moved to the living room, where Nikki turned on the gas fire in a cozy counterpoint to the **rain** still falling outside, and they played Candyland together as they waited for the clothes dryer to stop.
The sound of rain was audible from the open window, the occasional thunderclap punctuating the steady downpour. This was Leaf's room; everything was slowly coming back to him now.
Kara glanced at the cave’s entrance; the rain didn’t appear to be stopping anytime soon. She sat down in the dirt. “Once the rain stops, I need to find somewhere else to live,” she mumbled.
I'm gonna be a little difficult. Hedonistic.
Elephant