I’ve learned they never talk about humans when they talk about the end of the world, they talk about stockpiles and imposing costs, someone says something about expected yield, another expert predicts a number of degrees, but a mother died today of cancer you brought to her islands when you needed empty land, a grandfather went to bed in his apartment and he never woke up from that too-hot sleep, someone’s child is barely breathing and you can warn how a forest is burning but there’s a village burning with it, there is melted fat dripping into groundwater and when I learned about weapons and treaties we sanitized our words with euphemisms, a language made for air-conditioned rooms to pretend a dead body is just a data point, but no one ever told me we were cannibals.
@unicorndeaky Yeah he was, Paul's behaviour toward Jane Asher and Dot Rhone was particularly shitty. Not least of all how controlling he was going so far as to dictate what Dot could and couldn't wear.
See it's actually not at all hard to acknowledge the scummy behaviour of someone you admire for other reasons without downplaying it or engaging in whataboutery.
Weird that you interpret me mentioning Ringo beating his wife so badly he nearly killed her and calling him and John both scumbags as only calling out John tbh. Almost like you have an agenda.
"LoVe iS PaIN" you know what else is pain? me killing you
Setting: Modern!AU, Vampire!AU
Genre: Modern Fantasy, Action/Adventure, Crime and Justice
Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Smut
The absolute last thing disgraced ex-cop Zhou Zishu needs is to get mixed up in the murderous political machinations of Zhao Jing and his ilk but when he stumbles into the middle of a massacre and saves the life of Zhang Chengling, he finds himself caught up in a decades-long conspiracy of corruption, murder... and vampires. How can he protect Chengling from the most powerful man in the city, and who is the mysterious, irritatingly charming stranger who has taken such an interest in Chengling and himself... and seems to know so much about vampires?
Absolutely loved reading this! The story is immediately interesting, packed with action and suspense. Even though it’s 81k, it doesn’t feel long or drawn out at all. In fact, I nearly devoured the whole thing in one sitting.
Canonical elements are sandwiched into the modern fantasy plotline, merging three different settings seamlessly into one. It’s a fun read for anyone that likes a bit grittier fantasy setting.
Imagine your F/O relying on you in a fight. The two of you surrounded, standing back to back with one another, fingers brushing as you size up your enemy. Even if it seems hopeless, you know you with both protect one another, and come out victorious. They squeeze your hand, and you both move to fight.
The Blackwood Institute by moth in the web
pages 149 -155
“That is the way to fight evil! When evil wants to harm you, inflict pain - anticipate them, it's best if evil does not expect it. But if you fail to prevent evil, if you have been hurt by evil, then avenge him! It is best when they have already forgotten, when they feel safe. Then pay them in double. In triple. An eye for an eye? No! Both eyes for an eye! A tooth for a tooth? No! All their teeth for a tooth! Repay evil! Make it wail in pain, howling until their eyes pop from their sockets. And then, you can look under your feet and boldly declare that what is there cannot endanger anyone, cannot hurt anyone. How can someone be a danger, when they have no eyes? How can someone hurt when they have no hands? They can only wait until they bleed to death.”
cirilla fiona elen riannon princess royal of cintra heiress to the cintran throne and other thrones child surprise to geralt everyone
btw if you’re new here, i use these single character banners instead of icons. because i’m not trying to make hundreds of icons for like 60 muses. one each is perfect for me <3
[ @southxparkxafterxdark LIKED For A Starter || Hal ]
[ Dzianis ]
Anger bubbled in his body as he tore into the body before him, leaving it in bloody ribbons. The blood he licked off his lips and hands once the woman was dead burned on his tongue and going down, and his eyes clamped shut.
There was a sound behind him, and he whipped around, claws and fangs bared as his eyes glowed red.
“And what are you looking at, Mertvets?”
“Are you trying to kill my mother, Morgan?”
Brenda spoke evenly, standing at the doorway of their childhood home. Their mothers throat was held tightly in place by Morgan’s large fist, her frail body pinned up against the living room wall, knocked over a picture frame to his feet. Morgan was heaving, but his eyes were dull, and his voice contained.
Both of them were there to collect some medical records, stuff that were tied to Brenda’s legal name that they wanted wiped before someone could get their hands on it and use it against them. Nothing that hasn’t been done before, only this time the visit wasn’t a break in like they planned, but they met face to face with Brenda’s Mother, who was withered and miserable.
Miraculously, she let them in. It didn’t seem like she wanted anything associated with Brenda, anyway, so she let them take whatever they needed if it meant they’d leave sooner. While Brenda left to gather some stuff, Morgan and their mother were left alone.
“She said she killed you.” Morgan responded. Tightening his grip on the shriveling and crying woman, he spoke low. “She said she got angry one day with you, and your father wasn’t home, so she beat you to death. I’m not sure if you really did die that day, but she left you laying there believing she did.”
Brenda stared at him and nodded. “That’s correct.” Not willing to elaborate, they asked, “is she worth killing?”
Morgan answered a question with a question. “Would you of killed her if she did that to someone else’s child?”
Brenda nodded, and turned their back, walking outside. “Carry on.”
“P-please please god no! Stop!!!” She screamed.
Morgan, by the throat, slammed her into a nearby glass coffee table, shattering it. The old woman screamed and gurgled, sobbing as glass got lodged into her eyes and mouth. Morgan smushed her face farther in, gouging shards deeper into her face, before stomping on her head. She violently twitched before seizing, then falling limp.
He heaved, before leaning against the floral wall, and slid down. Morgan was soaked in blood, and he stared at the mangled corpse in front of him.
Brenda shortly came back, holding a bag of shredded paperwork. Morgan was still sitting against the wall, exhausted mentally and physically.
“It wasn’t the first time something like that had happened to me. And it wasn’t the first time someone killed my parents.” Brenda said, sliding down next to Morgan. “My childhood was hellish, which explains why I’m so fucked up, I think.”
“…yeah. We should get going. I’m surprised the cops aren’t here from all the screaming.” Morgan said.
“You’re lucky she doesn’t scream loud. The loudest thing was the table breaking. But yeah, we should move on.” Brenda stood up, reaching a hand out to Morgan. “Cmon. Let’s get you cleaned.”
It shouldn’t have ended like this. But how was he to say no? The two of them at odds, standing opposite to one another as if glued to dug-out battle lines. Fenris, lyrium glow cast soft against a northern horizon still streaked with the bloody red of dusk, vivid color limning the long lines of his silhouette. Astarion, in contrast, posture closed, pale as death itself in the settling dark. Angled towards the south— though Fenris never budged. "I need to find him." And he did "He needs my help." And he didn’t. "Don’t be stupid." And it was like a sickening snap of spent lightning, the second he knew, bone-deep, which of the two would be quicker in that last, decisive second. "Just -leave it-." Please, Astarion had added, the word cloying on his own acidic tongue and so uniquely barbed, all but begging him to forget. To willingly forget, for once in his life. Please, he thinks again now, tracing over the memory of that argument in his own stricken mind. "Oh you damned fool." As his fingers twist over lifeless silver leylines gone dull in the dust. As he pulls what once was Fenris closer in his arms, blood turned cold and tacky, wet through shattered metal. Layered leather. And it isn’t a memory; the words are on his lips, hands splayed across a splintered spine. "You damned fool." And this time the words are for himself, jagged fangs drawn up in vicious warning as the air reeks of ozone gone wrong. As he bares his teeth against the encroaching outline of a figure limned in hateful red.
| Lyriumwrath |
“We don’t have any specific rule against this in place so it’s perfectly fine!” 🙃
Behind Enemy Punchlines - Tim Drake/Reader
Some people find God in their last moments, but you just find the end of your patience.
Not that you expect much truth from someone called the Joker, but this was supposed to be a safehouse. Bullets aren’t supposed to start flying until you’re masked up, heart in your throat, with at least some hope of holding your own. Dying in a condemned building behind the world’s rattiest couch? Not part of your five year plan.
A stray bullet pierces the dusty fabric a foot from your nose, burying itself into the wall by your head.
You don’t know any of the guys here, so you feel nothing but relief when one of them collapses near enough to your hiding place that you can reach his gun. Finally, some fucking luck. If the growing puddle of his lifeblood is anything to go by, he won’t mind if you just—
The moment you reach for his weapon, a gloved hand scruffs you, and your nose is hitting the bare floor before you can react.
“Don’t move,” barks a modulated voice.
The pain in your head is immediate and eye watering. This asshole is gonna think you’re crying from fear, though, and you’re not dying like that.
“Buy me—dinner first,” you grunt as hands roughly pat you down, checking for weapons that you don’t have.
You’re flipped—none too gently—onto your back, and then you almost shed fearful tears for real.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” the Red Hood says, leveling a mirthless barrel at your head, “I don’t find clowns very funny.”
No, you think as a gunshot rings through the room—no, you’re not laughing at all.