#mother mother sentence starters

[notmorbid]

good intentions.

dialogue prompts from good intentions: stories of motherly love.

it was always meant to be temporary. you knew that.

it has all been real, my love. every moment of it.

a mother never stops loving her child.

do not worry. i will be right here with you.

i will love you every moment of every day for the rest of my life.

it isn't brave when it's the only thing to do.

the right thing often takes the most courage, the most sacrifice.

hearts have a way of healing, when necessary.

you aren't lonely?

i don't dream anymore.

i think i will sit for a little while, enjoy the night air.

we must try to remember the good things.

we give our children wings, but then they must fly alone.

life continues, even when it doesn't look the way we thought it would.

to carry a child in one's heart is to belong to that child forever.

i've been waiting for you to come clean --- with great restraint, i might add.

how we became a family is no one's business but ours.

tell me about your day. anything exciting happen?

i adore roses. [color] is my favorite. which is yours?

i know there's something more going on. you can tell me.

every parent worries they won't do things right. if you weren't concerned, then i'd be really worried about you.

the world can be a chaotic, frightening place, but that doesn't mean we can spend our whole lives hiding.

you're still up. is everything all right?

let's build a fire and have an indoor picnic.

let's not talk about it. let's not remember. please?

being a woman is the greatest curse. one day you'll understand what i mean.

you make it sound like you were tortured.

i wanted the pain to mean something.

i'm sorry. you know i love you, right? i love you so much.

i'm trying not to pass my pain along to you.

but are you happy? are you fulfilled?

what if the solution to your pain is letting yourself be seen?

why confess to a stranger when god listens for free?

can i tell you something i've never told anyone before?

listen to the small feeling in your heart, not the voice in your head.

if mothering is a long con, then fatherhood is a shell game.

we went on a lot longer than any of us thought we would.

no tears. that's the rule.

denying grief is a lot like denying love.

i can never guarantee you anything but this: i will never leave you. not really.

let's go, honey. we need to get you out of here.

there aren't many secrets in this world, just people who choose to look the other way.

you can fail another person and still do right by them.

sometimes people do the wrong things for the right reasons.

i'm having an affair. i didn't know how to tell you.

i would let a shark eat me alive before i hurt you that way.

i don't know how to save you this time.

you need to figure out whatever's going on with you. tonight could've ended very badly.

you were the best part of me, and i threw you away.

i'm sorry for showing up unannounced.

you aren't like me. you're better than me. you always have been.

my whole life, i've tried to be what other people needed. so they would love me.

[purecetra]

tag dump I.

☄. *. ⋆ visage. ☄. *. ⋆ aes. ☄. *. ⋆ music. ☄. *. ⋆ precious daughter. ☄. *. ⋆ planet protector. ☄. *. ⋆ headcanons. ☄. *. ⋆ lore. ☄. *. ⋆ sentence starters & memes. ☄. *. ⋆ study. ☄. *. ⋆ musings. ☄. *. ⋆ character habits. ☄. *. ⋆ mannerisms. ☄. *. ⋆ fashion. ☄. *. ⋆ interests. ☄. *. ⋆ meta. ☄. *. ⋆ the mother. ☄. *. ⋆ the lover. ☄. *. ⋆ eve. ☄. *. ⋆ ooc. ☄. *. ⋆ psa.

[shares-a-vest]

@steddiemas Day 16: Angst-Themed (Saturday Sentence Starters)

wc: 1k | Rated: T | cw: Steve’s parents are arguing (he is overhearing it briefly but there are some descriptions of yelling), toxic family dynamics, unstable marriage, cheating

Tags: Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Angst with a Happy Ending, Unstable Marriage, Toxic Family Dynamics, Cheating

“I don’t want to fight with you, Caroline,” Steve hears his father bellow from downstairs, “Not tonight.”

He snaps his comic closed and tosses it on the floor.

Steve has no idea what his parents are arguing about. Hell, they don’t even need an excuse these days, he thinks. Someone can so much as fart and it will start a goddamn screaming match.

He guesses he shouldn’t be surprised. It’s the holidays and his parents are both off work until the beginning of the New Year. It’s snowing heavy out so they can’t go down to the Martens’ house – their best friends-come-buffer zones.

“Oh, John!” his mother chides before there is a lower muffle that he can’t quite make out.

While being hard of hearing allows him not to hear anything below a shout, the broken argument is still frustrating.

His parents might not need an excuse to fight, but he’d still like to know what it’s about. Gain intel for the inevitable coming days of being stuck in the middle.

Steve has a few guesses as to what it could be.

His mother bought a new car with her Christmas bonus finally topping up her bank account and thus justifying an indulgent and expensive purchase. His father always hates that.

Steve smirks.

If his father didn’t like that kind of independence, why did he marry a high-paid lawyer?

But, the more likely scenario considering his father’s apparent insistence he ‘doesn’t want to fight’ is that he is cheating again.

Cindy, his secretary, or someone new – take your pick.

The telltale signs have been there for a month or two. A renewed cheery attitude, longer office hours, a fresh haircut and new clothes.

Actually, now that he thinks about it, it might be a little bit of a motivator behind his mother’s car purchase too – 

“ – Cindy!” his mother shrieks.

Yep, there it is.

Steve rolls off the bed, planting his feet on the carpet right by his shoes.

“Fuck this,” he mutters, scooping up his keys and wallet from the nightstand.

He’s just about halfway to Forest Hills, driving at a snail’s pace because he can’t see for snow, when he begins to regret his decision to leave the house.

Maybe he shouldn’t just barge in on the Munsons unannounced. Like sure, his friendship with Eddie is… teetering on not being entirely platonic. But this might be too much.

He always thought it was too much when he’d walk down to stay at Carol Perkins’ house for an impromptu sleepover. And there was always this awkward, knowing going on with the Wheeler’s when he was dating Nancy and spending a lot of time just hanging about.

Lingering for too long in the kitchen chatting to Karen or watching a game with Ted until the guy started snoring too loud to hear the commentators.

It was all there but largely unspoken.

Only Robin knows the details. And even then, he’s sure that her father’s friendliness towards him was partly due to his daughter telling him all about the trouble at the ‘ol Harrington house. He doesn’t blame his best friend for likely doing so. And he doesn’t consider it blabbing, either. Robin’s parents – her whole family – are amazing.

But some of his parent’s shit is stupid at best, hard to take at worst.

And he is scared to let Eddie in on it.

It’s too much.

He’s too much.

Being a Harrington is too much.

Wayne answers the door with a cup of cocoa that seems glued to his left hand in winter.

“Steve,” he says, voice gruff as ever despite a warm smile.

“Hi,” he replies, looking down at his snow-covered boots, “Eddie in?”

Of course, he’s in, his van is parked outside.

Steve can feel the warmth from inside the trailer. See the twinkle of lights from the Munson’s small, but heavily-decorated, Christmas tree. The smell of cocoa overpowering the ever-present hint of cigarettes.

“Eddie!” Wayne calls over his shoulder, “Steve’s here.”

In a flash, Eddie runs to the front door and practically bumps into his uncle.

“Come in!” he insists, wide-eyed as he looks past his shoulder at the falling snow.

And before Steve can even step in, Eddie is pulling him by his parka sleeve. He only just manages to scrape off his boots on the ‘Home Sweet Home’ adorned welcome mat.

“What some cocoa?” Eddie offers, eliciting a grumble from Wayne.

“I asked if you wanted some,” he chides.

“But Steve might want some,” Eddie grins.

“How about I heat up a pot now, and whoever wants some’s got it?” Wayne suggests, pursing his lips at Eddie and moving to the stove before his nephew can make any more requests.

“Follow me,” Eddie says, grabbing his hand, “I made cookies.”

He wiggles his brows and begins leading Steve to the kitchen.

As he is pulled along, Steve tries not to think about the fact that they are holding hands. Or how he wishes his fifteen-minute-ago Self had thought to bring an overnight bag and allowed himself to assume the Munsons would allow him to stay the night.

But it might be even harder to stop himself from squeezing his friend’s hand and lacing his fingers with Eddie’s.

Eddie lets go of his hand to gesture to the tray of Christmas-themed shapes, all looking a little too dark for gingerbread as they rest on the kitchen island.

“Pick one, Big Boy,” Eddie beams.

Steve reaches for a reindeer, flexing his fingers as he goes and commits the feeling of Eddie’s rings to memory.

“No!” Eddie shrieks, lightly smacking his hand enough that he drops it, leaving the cookie to snap in half as it falls back onto the tray, “His antlers are broken.”

“Christ, boy!” Wayne curses, stirring the pot on the stovetop.

Okay, a tree then…

“The star is missing!”

A bell?

“That was already snapped in half when I got them out of the oven”, Eddie admits with a tight-lipped smile.

Steve places his hands on his hips and rolls his eyes. To him, they all look at least a little crumbly – some he would even describe as lightly charred.

“How about you pick one for me then, Betty Crocker?” he chuckles.

Eddie giggles, twirling a lock of his hair as he carefully considers the tray of mostly broken, dry cookies.

He watches Eddie for a long enough time that Wayne pushes a mug into his hand, the warmth of Eddie’s hand remaining in place due to the heat of the cocoa. It’s a Chicago Cubs mug, one that he finds himself holding at some point each time he is here as if Wayne considers it Steve’s own.

He smiles for the first time in three days.

[monzamash]

not in the mood — carlos sainz

carlos sainz x you (femreader) | 1.9k summary – grumpy uncle Carlos is struggling on the extended family holiday and you will do anything to shake him from his bad mood. rating – 18+ (sex, language, google translated spanish) a/n – i’ve decided to collate the sentence starters i got for each driver so that we can get a bit juicer and i can do a little more plot with the smut lol masterlist

You could tell from the moment Carlos stepped off his father’s sailboat that he wasn’t happy. It was a look you’d seen before – typically after a bad race or when the vintage car he’d been working on in his workshop wouldn’t start; infuriated and overtired, two emotions he wasn’t capable of controlling. The vein bulging on his forehead told you to keep your distance while he cooled off, leaving him alone with his own thoughts. Hopefully simmering down.

“Is tio angry at us, tia?” Little Edgar asked, tugging on your long sundress as he watched his uncle storm off towards the resort without a word.

“He’d never be mad at you, cariño…” You replied quietly and brushed the young boys curls from his face, encouraging him to go play with his siblings in the water. But the question had to be asked.

“What happened out there?”

Carlos’ father simply shrugged and threw the cooler filled with bait onto the sand beside his wife, “He gets so worked up over nothing – frustrated with me, frustrated with the little ones. Desagradecida,” He muttered under his breath.

Carlos never got upset over “nothing”. Sure, he was competitive and easily annoyed by small things, pouting to you that something wasn’t right in his mind but storming off a boat after what was supposed to be a nice afternoon with his father and nephews? That wasn’t your Carlos and you stayed silent, not agreeing with Papa on this one.

“Well whatever happened, I’m sure he’ll be over it by dinner.” You sighed, willing your words into reality for the sake of the holiday.

His mother nodded in agreement, knowing that her son was never upset for long. Thankfully she changed the subject and sent her husband on a mission to get her another cocktail from the beach bar. You took the break in conversation to return to your suite where you assumed your husband was brooding alone, probably grumbling to himself in the otherwise silent room.

And you were right. As soon as you clicked the door open, you heard it. The unintelligible Spanish that he always used when he was angry – quietly cursing whoever was coming to ruin his peace and quiet. But you didn’t care if he was annoyed by your presence; you’d been together for long enough to sense what the other needed, especially if something was upsetting them.

He would've done the same for you.

“Don’t throw a pillow at me. I come in peace,” You said, rounding the corner and surrendering your power with your hands up beside your face.

He looked exactly as you expected; propped up against the bed head, thick black rimmed reading glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose and his eyes trained on the book you’d gotten him from the market that morning. At first he ignored you, pretending to be completely immersed in the book he was reading. 

But the quick glance up in your direction was enough to make you smirk. The pout he had on his face when he breezed past you on the beach a few minutes ago was still there, shoulders tensed around his strong neck. The only difference now was that he was shirtless, gloriously tanned and looking painfully beautiful lying on the white linen sheets. You always compared him to a flawlessly chiselled statue, mouth-wateringly perfect in every way.

“You didn’t need to come at all.”

Okay, so maybe not perfect all the time.

“Well I came up because the boys were worried that they’d made you angry but I can’t imagine any scenario where that would be true…”

Carlos’ eyes snapped up to yours, his pout now a frown as he listened to your words. He felt a pang of guilt shoot to his heart as you sat down on the end of the bed, watching his brain tick over and finally realise the effect he had on the people he loved, his little carbon copies. He was Tio Carlos, after all. Their hero.

“Ay, they didn’t think I was mad at them?” He asked more as a question than a statement and you nodded – not to make him feel bad but because it was the truth. The bitter truth from the way his face dropped again, now sadder than before.

“Meirde,” Carlos mumbled under his breath, “I wasn’t angry at them – it was my father. He was shouting at them like he did to me when I was a boy… making them feel stupid so I told him to fuck off and he was not happy about that…” He trailed off, rolling his eyes with a huff.

“I’ll go down and see the boys soon but I just can’t be around him like this,” Carlos added and you understood. He was clearly fired up, fight or flight mode activated with the former winning out.

There weren’t many things that really got under Carlos’ skin but those kids meant more to him than anything. He was protective of them and seeing them being bullied like he was as a young boy triggered him – made him see red and although he was close to his father now, there was a lot of underlying problems that had never been resolved.

Obviously this was one of them but it would be a shame to let all of that pent up anger and aggression go to waste, you thought.

“Fair enough, honey,” You whispered and stood up, smoothing your long sundress out as Carlos went back to his book, “I’ll give you some space but I’m not wearing any underwear right now… Just thought you should know that.”

In true Carlos fashion, he didn’t even flinch at your words, not even a glance nor did he stop you from leaving at first. It wasn’t until your hand was gripping the door handle that you heard him yell out from the bedroom, “And where do you think you’re going then?”

His voice sounded hoarse, deep and tantalisingly sexy as you trotted back to where he was, now sprawled out on the bed and waiting for your return. The book he was seemingly so enthralled in when you left was still open but discarded as you crawled up beside it with a smirk, merely imitating the expression on his face as he watched you.

Eyes forever trained on yours, tempting you up onto his lap that he was patting. Your fingernails dragged along the exposed skin on his thighs that the short shorts weren’t covering, tanned and hairy. Strong and muscular, mind reeling from the things they could do.

Carlos was pouting when you leaned in closer to his face, telepathically sending signals for you to kiss him. It had been a rough afternoon but having you to take his mind of it well and truly made up for it. You smiled and pressed your lips to his, arms snaking around his neck as you settled onto his lap, letting the weight of the day melt into his touch.

His hands crept around your waist and naturally dropped lower to your backside that he was always mesmerised by. There was hardly ever a moment when you were alone that he wasn’t either touching it or gawking at it and you loved it. The attention, the physically touch – he had you wrapped around his finger, and him yours.

“Let your frustration out on me, baby.”

Your permission ignited something deep inside Carlos. A little spark in his eyes catching on as you pulled back and captured his stare, aroused by the darkness and the steeliness as he tugged you into his chest. He was groaning under his breath as you moved above him, stirring that feeling he couldn’t ignore and that you could feel between your thighs.

“Te quiero con todo mi corazón,” Carlos whispered as you reached up and removed the reading glasses from his beautiful face, peppering kisses all over his cheeks.

“I think you look so sexy in these but I don’t want to break them,” You confessed and he simply smirked as he lifted your hips up and pulled his shorts down, freeing himself from the tight material.

“I know you do, darling.”

You rolled your eyes and licked your palm before grasping his growing stiffness in your hand, delicately rolling your wrist to get him to where you needed him. It never took long and with all of the kissing and teasing you’d done to him all morning; Carlos was pretty much hard on sight. But you loved how big he felt in your hand and the way his eyebrows scrunched together when you gripped him a little too tight, a hiss slipping from his lips every time.

“Actually you look sexier like this,” You smiled and kissed him again as he started bunching up your dress, moaning as you continued to pleasure him, tease him. But he got you back, sliding his fingers through your slick and pushing two fingers into you without warning, jerking you forward over his shoulder.

“Oh my god!” You shouted, both hands now gripping the back of his head as he fucked you, knuckle deep and revelling in the fact that you were now on the receiving end of his pleasure.

“Shh, I can hear people in the other room, cariño,” Carlos whispered facetiously, voice taunting and secretly wanting everyone to know that he was the reason for your screams.

“Well don’t shove your fingers inside of me without warning and I would be quiet,” You snapped back before he hit that sweet spot, causing you to return to crook of his neck with a whimpering moan.

“Asshole.”

Carlos snickered at you waving your metaphorical white flag. He loved you taking control and that’s what you did once you sunk down on him, taking his thick cock all the way until you bottomed out. A low, raspy moan slipped from your throat when you felt him twitch inside you, hips snapping up in an attempt to get you to move.

“Don’t rush me, baby. You feel so fucking big… God, why do you feel so big?”

“Because I am huge,” Carlos shamelessly retorted, head titled back and watching squirming on top of him. You rolled your eyes and straightened your back; now feeling like you had a point to prove.

As you sat up, you pressed your hands to his chest, hips rolling achingly slow and taking full advantage of your position.

“Okay, with that kind of arrogance and the way you’ve been moping around all day, you’ve lost your touching rights, my love.”

You slapped his hands off your thighs and watched his eyes glaze over with lust, “Hands off.”

Carlos pouted and reached out with his grabby hands, “Ay, no, please. I have to touch you.”

There was a smirk tugging on the corners of his lips as he pleaded with you, and you could see right through his façade. Even with his unbelievably thick cock filling you to the brim, brushing against that spot deep inside you that would usually have you unravelling in a matter of seconds, you didn’t crack. Not even a little.

“Hands. Off.”

And with those stern words, Carlos simply laid back on the pillows and tucked his hands behind his head, watching as you gave him a show. He couldn’t have loved you any more than he did in that moment – for making him feel like his entire body was on fire and for remedying his bad mood.

You really were a miracle worker. And you were all his.

a//n – ayyyy, the first of the monzamash special! i'm so glad people sent in requests for carlos – he's so fun to write. the next one will either be charles or daniel so let me know if you have preference! and thank you all again for 700 followers x masterlist | askbox

[autisticlancemcclain]

“You’re nervous.”

“Hnnngh,” Keith says, knuckles white on the steering wheel. He looks straight ahead, left leg bouncing, hair pulled back into a ponytail but flyaways everywhere. He keeps having to push up his glasses when they slide down his nose, nudged forward by all the tension in his eyebrows. “Being stressed before a stressful situation is not being nervous, Lance, it’s just my brain responding like a brain.”

Lance hides a smile. “You’ve met my family before, baby.”

Keith slows to a stop as they approach their turn, looking at Lance instead of the road for the first time in twenty minutes. His indigo eyes are wide and pleading. Lance is distracted by the tiny mole beside his nose.

“I’ve met your mom,” he says emphatically, breaking eye contact with Lance to crane his head to the left, checking over the hill for any cars. He’s far more careful than he needs to be — there’s never anyone on this road. But Keith is always endlessly careful when he’s driving other people around. “I’ve met your siblings. I’ve met your abuela. I’ve met the twins.”

“Mighty number of people,” Lance agrees. He looks at his boyfriend pointedly. “All of whom love you.”

“Because they love you,” Keith stresses. “You’re, like, their favourite person. You hyped me up so of course they have a nicer view of me. But this is like — your great grandparents and cousins and aunts and uncles and, I dunno, second sister in law five times removed —

“Not how that works,” Lance interjects, amused.

“—and now I gotta impress them all? At once? I still don’t know how I did that with everyone else! I panicked! I forgot all my lines and conversation starters! I just — was awkward, and they were cool with it because your family is cool!”

“Ah, yes, you were yourself and people liked you,” Lance says, nodding sagely. “How bizarre.”

Keith looks at him imploringly. He has a — really cute nose, holy shit. It’s crooked from the three separate times it’s been broken and Lance is kind of obsessed with it. All he can think about is pressing a kiss to the bridge of it and watching how Keith will crinkle it on reflex. He has to fight back a giggle.

“I am going to get eaten,” Keith says miserably. “My luck is going to wear out. I’m gonna say something stupid and offend your third cousin or trip over someone’s toddler and destroy your mother’s flan by crashing into the table and upending hot coffee on an elderly person. Then I’ll get arrested for assault and you’ll have to visit me in prison and my cellmate will make a comment about you or something and I’ll have to kill him and then I’ll get retried and the death sentence, probably, and then Red will bust me out of prison and cause intergalactic meltdowns and —”

Lance can’t hold back anymore. Quick as a dart he reaches out, fisting Keith’s collar, and yanks him over the gearshift, kissing him softly and soundly until Keith sighs, surprise fading into something calmer, relaxed. His hand comes up to cup Lance’s cheek.

“You need a Xanax,” Lance says gently as he pulls away.

Keith huffs, the manic look in his eyes replaced with something much softer. Relieved, even. “Yeah, probably.” He tears his eyes away from Lance, rechecking his turn and finally actually putting on his blinker and moving onto the right road. His free hand reaches over the gearshift and Lance grabs it, tangling their fingers together and resting them in his lap. “I just — I want your family to like me.”

Lance smiles, a wide one that brings a flush to his cheeks and makes him shy, even though he’s not self-conscious; a smile that makes something flutter so intensely in his stomach that it feels so intensely private.

“They’ll like you,” Lance says simply.

Keith exhales. His hand tightens. Lance squeezes back.

The rest of the drive is easy.

———

By the time they make it to Lance’s great-grandmother’s farm, he can tell that some tension has crawled back into Keith’s shoulders. But he’s always been brave, when fighting dictators or meeting parents, and doesn’t hesitate to pull into the gravel driveway and park the car. He squeezes Lance’s hand again before letting go, stepping out of the car and heading to get their stuff.

“Tío! Tío!” scream two voices, and Lance doesn’t even have half a second to brace himself before Nadia is launching herself at his stomach. He manages somehow to spin them both around to offset the momentum, keeping them both upright. Keith is not quite so lucky — Lance hears a slam, a startled oof, and then he sees their bags go flying out of the corner of his eye.

“Jesus Christ,” Keith wheezes, flat on the ground with Sylvio crowded on top of him.

“I got you!” the boy crows, scrambling off Keith’s body in order to adequately dance around in victory. “You went splat!” He whirls around to face Lance, still dancing around. “Tío Lance! Did you see?”

Lance adjusts Nadia on his hip, making no attempt to hide his amusement. “I did. You got him good, buddy.”

Beaming, Sylvio turns back to Keith, who’s finally managed to get enough breath back in his lungs to stand.

“You got me good,” he wheezes in approval.

“Just like you showed me!”

There’s no mistaking the smugness in Sylvio’s voice, the challenge, the I’m-little-you’re-big-and-you’re-a-loser.

Keith recognises the challenge easily, eyes glinting, and before Sylvio can run away Keith scoops him up, tossing him over his shoulder and whirling them around ‘til he’s dizzy.

“Just like I showed you, champ. Think you can get out of this one, though? It’s easy!”

Sylvio shrieks, pounding on Keith’s back with fists weak from laughter. Nadia squirms in Lance’s hold, so Lance sets her down, and in seconds she’s run and attacked Keith’s other side, climbing up his legs to try and free her brother. Keith scoops her up, too, throwing her over his other shoulder as she laughs just as shrilly.

“Clearly neither of you learned very much!” he shouts, grin so wide it practically splits his face. His already precariously dangling glasses slide right off his face but Keith doesn’t even spare them a glance, stepping over them easily and shaking the twins as he goes. “You’re trapped!”

It doesn’t take the bright twins very long to unite forces, attacking Keith with renewed vigour all at once. Lance bends down as they wrestle, scooping up Keith’s glasses and their discarded bags.

“He’s good with them,” Lisa says, sidling up beside him and sliding her hand around his waist. Lance mirrors her, squeezing.

“He thinks they’re hilarious. He loves them to pieces.”

“Believe me, they love him too. I heard about Uncle Keith so much on the drive down that I was tired of him before you two even got here.”

Lance snorts. “Yeah, right, dweeb. No one else here reads Jane Austen. You need your nerd buddy.”

“Indeed,” she says, grinning. She pats him on the hip, pulling away and taking one of the bags slung over his shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get your stuff dropped off. Marcela will want to fuss over you, I’m sure. She hasn’t seen you since your last mission.”

Lance looks back at his boyfriend before following her, making sure he doesn’t need Lance’s help. The twins have wrestled him into doing their bidding, it looks like, or more likely he didn’t even put up a fight, and sit on one shoulder each, guiding him around the property with shouts and points and frenzied gesturing. Keith has his hand locked firmly over each set of knees, careful not to let them fall, as he wobbles around to make them gasp and laugh.

Lance smiles. He’s fine.

———

Keith finds him within the hour, Nadia and Sylvio off to play with their cousins.

“You abandoned me,” he pouts, hand wrapped around his elbow.

Lance notices, idly, that he’s slouching again; that his ponytail has been abandoned entirely and his hair curtains his face.

Hm.

“You were busy being a doofus,” Lance teases, brushing his hair out of his face. He nobly resists the urge to quote Regina George. “One of us has to be the mature one. We wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong impression about the saviours of the universe.

“You’re hiding out on a random couch on your phone,” Keith deadpans. He glances down at the screen. “You’re watching a seven year old vine compilation. On mute.”

“Like an adult,” Lance says primly. “Watch with me.”

Keith rolls his eyes fondly, but slides on the couch behind Lance, arms wrapped around his waist and chin hooked over his shoulder. Lance digs in his pockets until he finds Keith’s glasses, twisting around to slide them on his handsome face. His hands linger on Keith’s temples. Keith’s smile is small and crooked and bares the tiniest peek of crooked incisors, and Lance’s heart flutters.

He leans back into Keith’s chest as he plays the video, watching a compilation of dorky videos he’s seen a thousand times. He feels Keith’s grin press into the juncture of his neck as he starts to mumble along. His hand rests just under Lance’s shirt, flat on his stomach. Lance fights the urge to squirm.

You Are In Your Abuela’s House, he reminds himself firmly. Your Ancestors Are Watching You. And Jesus, Probably.

Luckily, someone calls out their names before Lance really needs to find a vat of ice water to dunk himself in.

“Leandro! Keith! Come eat before your hog of a brother takes it all!”

The two of them don’t even need to pause for a moment before throwing themselves off the couch, scrambling towards the kitchen at top speeds because Marco absolutely will eat their portion of the food. Not even because he’s hungry for it, just because he’s a butthead who thinks it’s funny.

“This is your fault,” Keith informs him, careening around a questionably placed side table.

“Nothing is ever my fault ever in the entire universe,” Lance shoots back.

(Is it Lance’s fault? Possibly. But in his defense, the several years he spent as a child waiting for Marco to be distracted before eating his favourite thing on the plate still make him crack up when he thinks about it. Marco just got so mad, every time. Plus his eyes bulge a little when he loses it. How was Lance ever supposed to avoid poking that bear?)

Luckily, they make it in time to wrestle a plate away from Marco’s snickering ass.

“Keith, Lance,” Lance’s mother greets warmly before Lance can crack a plate over his brother’s head. “I’m glad you made it!”

“Mother,” Lance squawks dramatically, hand flying to his chest, “I am the second to be greeted? You’re son? You’re youngest angel? The one who went missing for several years and returned to you, prodigal?”

She reaches over and flicks Lance in the forehead. Keith snorts. Marco cackles.

“Keith called me on the flight home,” she explains, ruthless. “So he is the son, and you are the son-in-law.”

Keith flushes as he always does when Mamá pairs them like that, when they’re both her sons, when she implies what it implies. Lance lets the warmth of that expression soak into his bones, deep in through his back, from every point Keith is touching him.

“I was sleeping off being maimed!” Lance despairs.

It does him no favours. Mamá waves her hands wildly, setting down her own plate in favour of placing her hands over her ears. “Gah! Sh! Do not tell me of these things! I am meant to pretend your job is nothing more than ornamental! Do not ruin that for me!”

“It was the slightest ever maiming,” Lance mutters, sullen.

Keith visibly bites back a retort to that, no doubt out of respect for Mamá.

(Lance knows that Keith would have been the world’s biggest mama’s boy had he grown up with Krolia. He has shared this hypothesis with Shiro, who had laughed so hard upon hearing it that he had sprained a muscle in his neck, and then explained later with a heat pack and a wryly smiling Adam that Keith used to scold Shiro for pushing himself with exact quotes from Shiro’s mother herself.)

“Nobody ever wants to hear my side of the story,” Lance laments.

Keith bends down to kiss him on the cheek.

“That’s because you are a liar,” he says kindly.

Lance catches his chin before he can pull away, kissing him to shut him up.

They head outside to join everyone else, plates stacked high with food and plastic cups balanced precariously with spare fingers. Keith starts to slouch again as they walk out the sliding screen door, but he keeps his hair out of his face, eyes flitting between different people. It helps that hardly anyone spares him half a glance, too used to random new people in such a big family.

“Hey, Patito! Over here!”

Lance whips his head up at the familiar voice, breaking into a wide smile when he sees his sister’s wilding waving hand. Keith, too, seems relieved when he catches sight of Veronica, rushing over almost faster than Lance is.

“Hey, losers,” she greets, flicking water from her cup at them as they sit across from her. “Took you long enough to get here.”

“Lance is a distraction and danger to the road,” Keith says immediately, because he is a snitch. He is also unfortunately very quick and manages to duck away from Lance’s pinch.

Veronica snorts. “Believe me, I know. Every ride back to the Garrison on weekends was a near death experience because he kept smacking me every ten seconds. A menace.”

“You manipulator!” Lance accuses. “I slapped you because you teased me! Constantly!”

Keith and Veronica share sharp, matching grins. Lance takes a nanosecond to ponder what he ever did to deserve the sufferings of their friendship.

“That’s because you’re so goddamn easy to rile up, sweetheart,” Keith says with a wink.

Lance attempts to shove him off his chair. Unfortunately, while he does flail backwards, he manages to stay upright.

“You two were supposed to hate each other,” he mutters into his congrí. “This friendship thing is bullshit.”

Neither believe him for a second.

They’re barely into their meal when the nosiness starts. In fact, Lance is honestly surprised it has lasted this long. Luis probably said something to convince everyone to tone it down, because he is a saint and also Lance’s favourite.

“So,” says his Aunt Vena, “…Keith.”

Keith freezes, cheeks bulging. Lance tries very hard not to laugh at him.

“Hi,” he says, swallowing. He says nothing else and looks agonized about it. His memorized conversation starters have no doubt fled his brain.

“You know, I feel like I already know you,” jokes Aunt Vena, never bothered by awkwardness. Or boundaries. “I only see Leandro a few times a year were the only thing he talked about for ages.”

Lance goes pale. Oh, please God, no. Please let Aunt Vena be suddenly gifted with the ability to read Lance’s mind, or at least notice him waving his hands frantically behind Keith’s head, making cutting motions at his throat.

“Keith this, Keith that. Keith Keith Keith.”

Lance cradles his face in his hands. So much for miracles.

“He did?” Keith asks.

“Stop investigating immediately or you’re sleeping on the floor tonight,” Lance threatens under his breath. Keith’s hand finds it’s way to his thigh and rests there, as if laughing at him.

“Oh, yes,” laughs Aunt Vena. “Every other word was about how you sat in class or walked in the hall or flew your planes. He was always angry about it, but he was quite focused on you. Oh, and your hair.”

Aunt Vena turns away to chatter with someone else like she didn’t just ruin Lance’s life. Lance would hate her if he didn’t find her so goddamn loveable, but he does, so instead he looks up and suffers Keith’s wide, shit-eating grin, and ponders deep in his heart how he will re-humble his boyfriend so they’re back on even ground.

“…You were big on the hair, huh.”

“Shut the fuck up or I’ll chop it off as you sleep.”

———

“Keith.”

“I’m just saying.”

“You dorkbrain.”

“I’m just saying!”

Keith’s hair is in a knot at the crown of his head, glasses pushed all the way to his face. He’s got Lance’s hand in his but he’s not paying attention to him in the slightest — he cycles between leaning back, then forwards, then craning his neck and shifting his eyes. Every few seconds he lets out a muted gasp.

A group of children run yelling in and out of the house, heedless of doors and stairs.

“You are such a mother hen,” Lance says with great amusement.

Keith is too distracted to even roll his eyes. “Some of them are very little,” he says worriedly. “Maybe they should play a game outside. There’s more space.” He looks around at the various adults sitting and chatting, aghast. “Should me maybe get a — pool noodle, or something? Just for the corners. So there are no head injuries. That’s the most common way they happen, you know. Tripping during play.”

Lance hums, leaning into his side. “Reading a lot of parenting books, are you.”

Keith is very deliberately silent. Lance flicks up his gaze to watch his face redden.

“…Akira.”

“It’s Shiro’s!” he says defensively. “It was — he had it on the shelf! I read it when I was younger! It was traumatizing! Do you know how easy it is to fuck up a kid? Very easy, Lance! Their heads are very squishy! They don’t know balance yet! They repeat everything you say!”

“Was this book,” Lance starts, choking back laughter with everything he has, “perhaps about raising toddlers?”

Keith’s jaw snaps shut.

“Children under two? Hm?”

Keith glances away. “It didn’t mention.”

Lance loses his battle, burying his cackling in Keith’s shoulder.

“How was I supposed to know that ‘A Guide To Raising Healthy Children For New Parents’ was about — babies? Shiro was the dumbass who had it!”

Lance laughs harder. “Did he — did he buy it when he —”

Keith puts his head in his hands. “He bought, like, forty books when he first started fostering me, they were all basically the same, he’s such a dumbass —”

“Stop, stop,” Lance begs, grasping his aching stomach. The image of Shiro, twenty years old, panicking after impulsively deciding to apply to foster the delinquent who stole his car, frantically googling advice for new parents only to unknowingly receive information about toddlers is the best mental image he’s had in a while. He’ll have to share with Pidge and the rest of the Holts the second they get home.

“You’re such a butthead,” Keith grumbles, but it’s half-hearted. His attention is still mostly on the way Mateo, Lance’s four year old second cousin, very nearly brains himself on the corner of the brick entryway trying to swerve away from his older sister. Keith’s sharp inhale would have been comical if Lance didn’t feel his own heart drop.

“Okay,” Lance concedes, “maybe it’s time for a new game.” He pats his boyfriend on the knee. “You’re up, champ.”

“Wait, me?” Keith asks, bewildered. “You’re their cousin.”

Lance shrugs. “You’re the worried one. Plus, I want to go get wine drunk with Rachel. Mamá said she just got here. She’s been avoiding my calls all week which means she has Information to share and doesn’t trust herself not to tell me immediately. I have to know what’s up.”

Keith still doesn’t look convinced. “But I’m a stranger to them, basically.”

“So start with Nadia and Sylvio, dummy. Once the rest of the kids see a cool newer and accidentally safer game to play, they’ll join fast. Plus, the stranger aspect is intriguing, probably. You’re like a new toy.”

To solidify his point, Lance calls his niblings over, gesturing to Keith. The twins light up, immediately abandoning whatever they’re doing — trying to shove a sleeping Luis’ finger up his own nose — to sprint over to them.

“Tío Keith has a game for you two,” Lance whispers conspirationally.

The twins burst into howling cheers.

“Game! Game! Game! Game!” they chant, each grabbing one of Keith’s hands and tugging him away.

Keith looks back at him, panicked. Lance blows him a kiss, then turns back into the house to go hunt for his sister.

She finds him first.

“LANCE,” she shouts, whipping around to face him. Lance immediately shifts backwards slightly, knees bent, legs widened, arms held out protectively in front of him. He smirks. She matches it.

She charges.

She aerials into a heel kick, as always, aiming for his skull. Lance back handsprings out of her reach, careful of the various relatives around him, who are well used to their brand of bullshit and don’t even pause their conversations as they lean away.

He comes back up just in time to throw up a block to her fists, aiming a kick to her stomach that she can’t fully dodge. She gets him right back, though, like she always does, aiming a sweeping kick for his ankles that he has to flip on his hands to avoid.

“It’s good to see you, fucker,” she pants, roundhouse kicking the dip of his waist.

“Likewise, asshole,” he grunts, grabbing her ankle and flipping her to the ground. She drags him down with her.

They’re both grinning.

“Tomorrow morning we box for real,” she proposes as they lay there, getting their breath back.

“Deal,” he agrees.

By the time they finally get back on their feet, they’re both parched, and since they also make frequent poor decisions, they head straight for the bad boxed wine. Lance pours them both heaping glasses and Rachel guides them to an open lawn chair, which they both sprawl on, a hundred percent in each other’s space.

“So,” Rachel says, chugging half her glass, “my grades are in. I’m graduating top of my class.”

Lance gasps. “Rachel!”

“And,” she continues, building up suspense with a grin, “I got word back from all my residency applications.”

Lance thinks he might explode. He remembers them when they were little, huddled on the floor of their bedroom at one in the morning, glow sticks guiding their planners, mapping out heir lives together. Where they would go to school, when they would bother with dating, how they would do it all together. Lance, best pilot to come out of the Garrison next to Shirogane. Rachel, the first surgeon to successfully transplant a brain.

“I got in,” she says, beam so wide it forces her eyes shut. “Lance, I got in!”

“Rach!” he screams, eyes blurry from tears and heart full to bursting. “Rach!”

He wraps his arms around her shoulders and squeezes, weeping with joy and elation and buzzing from his head to his toes. This is what Rachel has wanted since she was old enough to talk. This is his sister, his first and best friend, getting everything she has ever wanted, as she has always deserved.

“I’m so fucking proud of you!”

She squeezes him right back, her own tears wetting his t-shirt. Her relief is palpable, and Lance knows it, the indescribable feeling of finally crossing that goddamn mountain, finally getting what you’ve been working for for longer than you can remember.

“Everything is falling into place,” she says softly, pulling back and holding up her cup. Lance laughs and clinks them together.

They settle back into their shared chair, too happy for words, gathering themselves. Lance catches his mother’s eye and returns her soft smile, wine making him warm and happiness making him bright. He feels like he’s swimming in sun-warmed water.

He settles back with a sigh.

Rachel nudges him. “Hey, Loverboy. Look.”

Lance follows her pointing finger. Away from the tables and lawn chairs, in a wide, open space, there’s Keith — surrounded by every single child on the property, ordered in neat rows. Each of them has a hefty stick, held carefully in their hands, watching Keith with great intensity. Keith himself has his bayard out, stretched out in a battle position, back straight and shoulders loose. He has the same bright look on his face that he has during Lion training, or riskier missions. Excitement, steadiness, and a hint of cockiness that has Lance shivering. He demonstrates a move, and with a single minded focus, the children repeat it.

It has always been impossible not to want to be a part of everything Keith does, Lance has found.

“…You kind of scored,” Rachel observes.

Lance’s laughter is breathy, high-pitched. “Believe me, I know.”

There’s a rousing shout from the kids, then a cheer, then Keith shouts, “Ready?” and at their raucous response, chaos breaks out. Sticks are strikes and parried and children throw themselves dramatically on the floor in pantomimed deaths, scrambling to their feet seconds later to get back into the fray. Every few seconds Keith calls out rules and reminders, weaving through the children to point out places for improvement or congratulate someone for doing something right.

“I have never seen them all gathered this long without any crying or fighting,” Rachel says, something like awe in her voice. She pauses. “Well, real fighting.”

Lance smiles, something small and secret and over which he has no control. He catches his boyfriend’s eye and waves, which is returned at twice the enthusiasm.

“Keith’s good with kids,” he says quietly. To himself, he wonders if it’s possible to have a heart so full it bursts.

———

The blankets are scratchy but warm, and Keith smells as he always does, and Lance is half asleep. But the words come leisurely out anyway.

“You awake?“ he whispers, words tucked into the spot above Keith’s heart.

Keith hums. Lance feels the rumble of it in his cheek.

“Barely.”

His eyes are too heavy to keep open, so he lets them slip shut. He breathes deeply the smell of his boyfriend’s body wash, and traces meaningless patterns on his chest with his fingertips, breathing slowly, taking his time. He might fall asleep, but that’s okay. They have time.

“‘M glad you came, today.”

Keith’s breathing is slow and even, just like Lance’s, but he can feel the heavy weight of his gaze, those indigo eyes.

“I go where you go.”

Lance quirks his lips. The blankets rustle softly as Keith slowly slides up his hand, encircling his fingers around Lance’s wrist, palm resting on his forearm. After a minute Lance can feel his heartbeat, at the same time that he hears it, head pressed to Keith’s chest. “You’re good with the kids.”

Keith’s breath stutters. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I like them. And your family.”

“Told you.”

“Yeah, you did.” He’s silent for a minute, palm heavy on Lance’s skin. “I wanna — do this, Lance. Forever.”

Lance turns his head slightly, just enough to press his lips to Keith’s sternum. “I will love you until the end of time.”

He feels Keith’s smile, sweetening the air.

“I love you, too.”

[mcuamerica]

The Shadowsinger: Prologue

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. Parental abuse, nightmares, mentions wing clipping, starvation from being trapped, spoilers for ACOTAR series. If I forgot anything, please let me know!

Pairings: (Eventual) Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: After your family tries clipping your wings, you flee to the northern Illyrian mountains.

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

My graphics are my own. If you wish to use them, please give credit!

Series Masterlist

It wasn’t every day you flew your way to the northern mountains of Illyria. It also wasn’t everyday your father tried clipping your wings when you refused to marry the brutal son of a terrifying male.

You flew until you couldn’t see any smoke from fires, tents, homes. You flew so far your wings began to falter from not only the assault they’d taken but the treacherous wind of the storm blowing in. You flew till you glided under the trees and finally stumbled to your feet, shaking from not only the cold, but what you just did. You ran away. You got out of that horrible household. Flinching from the memories as they rolled through, you stumbled over to a nearby small stream. The winter storm was drawing near, and from what the clouds looked like above, it wasn’t going to be a pleasant one.

Thank the Mother, you’d grabbed a bag of supplies on your way out. One of your brothers that they’d packed for a training session coming up. It had a small blanket, a starter for fire, a couple of sheathed daggers, and a canteen. Not a lot, but it would let you survive the storm as long as you got a fire going. As soon as some of the chill from the flight wore off, you went down to the clear stream, filling the canteen.

You just had to make it through the storm, and that would be enough. You would figure out what to do about your scratched, but healing, wings tomorrow.

But day break never came. When you’d woken from your exhausted slumber, your fire had burnt out, and you were completely snowed into the cave. You had gotten some food the night before, but it would only last you until that night, maybe the next if you’d packed snow on it to keep it from rotting. The water you had would keep you to a day or two after that, if you rationed it enough.

You knew it was a death sentence the moment you tried clawing your way out that night, not being able to take the darkness. You knew the Illyrian winter storm wouldn’t let up, and you knew that you’d die in that cave if some blessing didn’t come to melt away that snow.

You spent a long time shivering and exhausted in the pitch black cave. You’d ran out of water some time after you’d run out of the scarce food. Not that you knew what time it was, or how long had gone by. Seconds felt like minutes, hours like days. You strained your ears for any sign of the snow melting. Of footsteps outside the cave so you could scream for help. You thought you went mad when you felt something cold brush up against you, whisper that it would be okay. And that’s when the blessing came. When you felt the shadows wrapping themselves around you, almost in a comforting manner, and like a whisper on the wind, you were out in the bright sunlight. You had to blink for a minute to even adjust to the brightness.

It was the sound of the stream trickling and the light breeze on your face that had your eyes prick with tears. You had gotten out. By some miracle, you had gotten out.

You jolted awake, feeling the familiar shadows tracing around your shoulders, the tips of your wings, as you shot up from the bed. Glancing over to the male that was by your side, still sleeping, you scooted out of the bed. One that was too small even for your wings. Collecting your clothes, you slowly went into the dingy bathing room and prepared yourself for the day. After you’d put your clothes back on, you crept out of the room, the male whose name you’d forgotten still sleeping on the bed.

You couldn’t shake the feeling of the memory you re-lived as you walked out of the small inn and into the daylight, but stayed near the darkness of the trees as you made your way into town. You hadn’t thought about it in a long time, what had happened to you. The horrible last night seeing your blood family was one of the most terrifying experiences you had faced. Only one good thing came from it as far as you were concerned. You’d gotten your shadows. You learned to listen to them, hearing them whisper things about people around you, about the trees and animals. You learned to bend into them, letting them consume you when you wanted. As you pleased.

You supposed that your freedom was the other good thing that came of that night. Those days that were spent in the cave. But you were constantly looking over your shoulder as if your father and three brothers would be standing there, scowling, with the blades to clip your wings once and for all. The wings that took you so far north, you’d only found one small village when you gathered the strength to stray from the cave. The village you’ve spent the following 100 years of your life in.

You learned to earn your keep when a kind female of the name Sirona, the only village healer, took you in to help with your still injured wings and malnourished body. You’d stayed with her while you got back to your normal health, and hunted for her family until you started to help her with healing.

They hadn’t seen a Shadowsinger before. Only ever heard rumors of one that was close to the High Lord. Being so far north, they didn’t get much news from the Night Court, or from any Courts. It seemed only strong willed Illyrians who tried to take on the brunt of the northern mountain range ended up coming through your town. One of which you’d taken to bed the night before. Again, you couldn’t even bother to remember his name. He’d be flying back to his war camp soon enough.

Maybe a war camp where he would see your father and brothers. But wouldn’t tell of your abilities. Of your shadows. Because you’d only allowed outsiders to see them at night, when it could be a trick of the light. The only people you trusted were Sirona, her mate, Igna, and their son, Oran. And perhaps the other villagers, though you didn’t spend much time with them since you’d taken Sirona’s side in learning how to heal. Even if you didn’t have any powers other than your shadows, not that had been unearthed anyway, you learned other ways. How to bandage and clean wounds, to stitch them, to make tonics that would heal them faster. The village didn’t need it much, there wasn’t a lot of trouble here. But it felt good to be helpful.

So that’s what you were doing just a few days after your nightmare. You carried a basket of tonics around the village, delivering them to those who ordered it earlier in the week. Most were for females on their cycle, or contraception ones for them and their partners. You were making your way back to your small apartment, above Sirona and Igna’s house, when you heard doors start slamming shut.

“Run… not safe… help them…” you heard your shadows say in a panic. The next thing you knew, dozens of Illyrian wings littered the skies. You could even make out the bows they carried. You shifted back towards the back side of one of the shops, your shadows whirling around you, tugging you to go help the people who took you in all those years ago.

But you couldn’t move. Not as you scanned the Illyrians, worried this was when your father would finally come back to claim your freedom.

If you knew what was going to happen, you would have wished that was what happened. Wished your father, however terrible and brutal he was, came to get you that day. Because what happened next was worse than the failed wing clipping. Was worse than the days on end you spent stuck in the cave.

It was the day Amarantha came to claim you as her personal Shadowsinger.

Chapter One

A/N: Hello!! I hope you enjoyed the prologue! This is the backstory of the reader. This is very much a story about the reader rather than a love story (at least at the beginning. I’ve only written about half of what I plan to write.) I plan to eventually have reader and Azriel be love interests... Enjoy!

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[switchypanic]

Sentence Starter: "I didn't actually want you to stop…"

Content Warnings: One brief sex joke (because this is LUCIFER we are talking about) and tooth-rotting fluff between Lucifer and Lilith.

Word Count: 759 words.

"I didn't actually want you to stop..."

There were many things about Lucifer that Lilith enjoyed. His handsome features, his love of ducks, his tendency to dream big, his protective streak. However, one of her absolute favorite things about him was his smile. Whenever she saw it, it made her day ten times better, even in the dark underworld of Hell. As such, she made it her mission to make him smile as often as possible.

Now, this wasn't always easy. Being king came with a number of stressors, especially with the angels constantly breathing down his neck, and there were days were Lucifer came across as a man on the brink of losing it. However, over their many decades together, Lilith had found more than a few ways to put a smile back on her beloved's face.

The first was attention. Lucifer was, and always had been, an attention whore. The man ate up any love and affection his wife was willing to give, returning it tenfold.

The second was their daughter. No matter how bad of a day he was having, seeing that fanged smile on their little toddler's face always had Lucifer cracking up, cooing over how much she looked like her mother (Lilith couldn't see it; Charlotte was Lucifer's spitting image).

The third method, however, was her favorite, and what brought her to her current situation.

Lucifer had been having another hard week. He had a ton of meetings to attend with the other sins, another Extermination coming up, and Charlotte had been sick, making the poor man worry himself half to death. While their daughter was getting better, and Lucifer had managed to get all of his business wrapped up in a somewhat neat manner, he was still stress beyond belief. As such, Lilith had taken it upon herself to improve her husband's mood the best way she knew how.

However, what she HADN'T been expecting was the downright pitiful look her gave her when she had finally stopped, followed by that fateful sentence uttered just under his breath.

"N-Now darling, surely we can talk about this?" Lucifer stammered, a nervous grin nearly splitting his face in two. He had his hands raised in front of him, eyes locked onto hers warily. "I-I was just kidding! And I'm not sad anymore, see? I'm smiling!" He chuckled awkwardly; Lilith wasn't convinced in the slightest.

"For the devil himself, you're an awful liar." The demoness teased, delighting in the way her husband's cheeks turned a bright pink. She took a step closer, mouth curling into a playful smirk.

Lucifer took a step back, his shoulders already shaking with barely contained titters. "Lilith, my love! Light of my life! You don't gotta do this! There's other ways to cheer me up; ways that would be pleasurable for you, too?"

He was trying to seduce her, a tactic that would usually work. However, seeing him already starting to crumble before she had even laid a hand on him only made Lilith all the more eager to execute her plan.

"Nice try, sweetie, but I'm craving something else today, as you are already well aware." Lilith took another stride closer, beginning to close the gap between them. The king attempted to back away again, but his legs wouldn't move, knees feeling like jello. Oho, the way that woman could disarm him with a single word or glance! "Besides, we both know you MEANT what you said. You want to get wrecked that badly, hm? I'm more than happy to indulge you, you know."

The woman reached out, taking her husband by the arm and pulling him closer. She wrapped him in an embrace before turning him around, holding the shorter demon against her chest. "Oh my, you're a mess today, aren't you?" She crooned.

Lucifer squirmed against her, biting back a flustered whine as his heart hammered in his chest. "Lilith..." He mumbled softly. "Come on, don't tease me! You did enough of that earlier, didn't you?"

"There's no such thing as too much teasing." The woman chuckled, pressing a kiss to her husband's neck. "So, you'd rather I just go all out, hm?" Lilith asked, smirk growing as she heard his breath catch in his throat. "Well, if you insist..."

"Wait wait wait, that's not what I-" Lucifer was cut off by a startled squeal, feeling his wife's hands begin to squeeze at his sides firmly and quickly. He bit his lower lip, trying desperately to hold in his giggles. "Lilith, nohohohoho!"

And he failed pretty much immediately.

[steddieasitgoes]

@steddiemas Day 16 Prompt: Angst Themed Sentence Starters

3. I don’t know what you want from me. and 5. I don’t want to fight with you. Not tonight.

Tags: Established Relationship, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mentions of Past Child Neglect, Protective Eddie Munson

wc: 1184 | Rating: T

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

“I don’t know what you want from me!” Steve shouts, arms thrown in the air.

He’s glued to the floor in their living room watching as Eddie stalks up and down the length of the room in the dim glow of their Christmas tree. Steve’s hands are clutched around the cordless phone, double-checking that he properly hung it up.

The last thing he needs is for his mother to overhear the argument currently going on.

The same argument that happens every year, without fail.

An unofficial tradition that Steve fucking hates.

“I want you to stand up for yourself!” Eddie shouts back.

Their voices may be raised, but they’re not screaming at each other. At least, not in the ways they were raised too. Their voices may be loud, but they don’t hurl insults at each other. Nor do they shout directly at each other, shouting their concerns into the void of the room instead.

“I do stand up for myself!” Steve defends, crossing his arms.

“Not when it comes to them!” Eddie growls, flippantly waving his hand in the air. “I thought we decided after last year's disaster that we weren’t going to put up with it anymore. If your parents wanted to be in our lives, they’d be there for us every day and not just on the choice fucking holiday so you’re mom can take her family picture that conveniently always makes me look terrible.”

“I know. Okay? I know we said that!” Steve uncrosses his arms, one hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. The other hangs limply by his thighs, opening and closing into a fist, tethering him to the moment. “But they’re still my parents!”

Eddie scoffs, shaking his head. “Just because a piece of paper says they’re your parents doesn’t make it true.”

“I know, but—“

“No! No buts! They’re shitty people, Steve! I’m not going to apologize for saying that because it’s the truth! They only want you around when it's convenient for them and then they leave. You might not see it, but every time they walk out that door you turn into that lonely, abandoned teenager you’ve worked so hard to grow from! I’m not going to let them keep doing that to you!”

“Eddie,” Steve huffs. He’s not wrong, not in the slightest. But it still stings hearing it. Knowing that even though he tries to hide how he feels when his parents walk out the door every year, Eddie sees. That he hurts just as much as Steve does.

“What if it was my dad who called and said, “Clear you’re scheduled for the 20th, we’re having Christmas dinner since I’m going out on Christmas but still need to show face with my friends and see you?” What if he did it every fucking year for seven years, only to bitch and moan about every little thing? Questioning my life choices, talking shit about the man I’ve become because I didn’t live up to his expectations. Making snide comments about you when he thinks you’re not listening. Would you let him keep coming?”

“Of course not!”

“Then you understand where I’m coming from!” Eddie says, slowly making his way over to Steve. “I wish things were different. I wish your parents saw you for the amazing man you are. Saw us for all the work we’ve done to better ourselves. But they don’t. They never will. And I’m tired of pretending for a few hours every year to be okay with their bullshit. You deserve better than that.”

“I—“ Steve breaks, the first tear racing down his cheek before he can even register what’s happening.

He’s wrapped in Eddie’s arms in an instant, pushed and flushed with his warm chest. His shirt is soft, soothing the prickly feeling spreading across his own cheeks as he lets the tears fall. Eddie holds him, strong and firm. Rocks him slowly in his arms, and runs a hand soothingly up and down his back. Whispers encouragement into the wild tufts of hair on the top of his head.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie coos. “It’s okay. S’gonna be okay.”

“I don’t want to fight with you,” Steve hiccups, pulling away from Eddie’s embrace. “Not tonight. Not ever.”

“I don’t want to fight with you either.” With a gentle hand, Eddie swipes the tears from Steve’s eyes before cradling his face in his hands. “Especially not about your parents. Maybe about your questionable taste in movies—“

“Hey!” Steve laughs, swatting at Steve’s chest. “You’re the one with the questionable taste.”

Eddie hums, shaking his head. “Keep telling yourself that, big boy.”

They stay like that for a few moments, wrapped in each other's embrace. Letting the tension ease from their bodies and minds. The air in the room already feels lighter, the lights on the trees twinkling brighter.

But there’s still a weight pressing on Steve’s chest. One he knows isn’t going to go away until he figures this out. Once and for all.

“What should I tell them?” he mumbles, words nearly lost amongst the quiet hum of their space heater.

“You could tell them we’re going on vacation? Or that we already made plans.”

“I don’t want to lie to them,” Steve sighs, feeling the pressure building behind his eyes again. “If I tell her that she’ll want to see pictures or hear stories and then it's one lie after another.”

“You could tell them the truth?” Eddie suggests, arms wrapping around Steve again. “Tell them that they don’t deserve to spend Christmas with you because of the way they’ve treated you. That we don’t need their negative energy in our lives.”

Steve grimaces. He wishes he could have a conversation with his mom. Wishes they had the type of relationship that allowed him the grace, to be honest with her. To give her space to listen and hopefully learn. But they don’t. They never have. All that will get Steve is an earful of guilt and yelling, followed by a call from his father about he broke his mother.

Still, what other choice does he have?

If he doesn’t want to lie, the truth is the only other option.

“Will you stay by me while I make the call?”

“Of course, sweetheart. M’not going anywhere.”

“Okay,” Steve says, letting the plan take shape in his head. “Okay. I’m going to tell her the truth.”

“I’ll be the whole time,” Eddie says, squeezing Steve’s hand. “But if she starts yelling, I will grab that phone and hang up on her. You understand that, right?”

“I think you hanging up on my mom is the kindest thing you could do to her.”

“Damn right, it is!” Eddie laughs. “Now come on, let’s rip this bandaid off so we can start planning what we’re actually going to do now that we have the 20th free.”

“I’m sure you already have ideas.” Steve laughs, watching as Eddie’s eyes light up as they drink him from head to toe.

“Yeah,” he says, dragging his tongue across his bottom lip. “I’ve got a few ideas up my sleeve.”

[wrinkly-walls]

Let's talk motives

Longass rambling scream (1996) meta post incoming

DISCLAIMER I am not taking into account anything that happens in any of the other sceam movies, because they were made later and I think the whole concept of Roman is not interesting. So to ME Billy and Stu did everything without being prompted. Ok that's all :)

In the first scream motives are important in the way that they aren't. By that I mean that there are three (if I remember correctly) "conversations" about Billy and Stu's motives. There's the first one, which starts by Billy stating that it's much scarier if there's no motive and, funnily enough, ends with him giving his "motive" (in quotations because I wanna talk about that later); there's the "don't you blame the movies!" bit, which I counted because I think that it does discuss motives in a way; and then there's Stu's "peer pressure, I'm far too sensitive". The thing about these three conversations is that they, in my opinion, don't give an answer to the question/accusation of a motive.

Let's start with the first one, that I think is the one that tries to get closer to it. As I said, there's two parts to this: first we have Billy saying that motives make things less scary, mentioning Norman Bates (which is sort of funny because Bates did have a motive -sort of. It depends on what you consider a valid motive, as it relies on mental illnes, something that is not rational (and also almost never happens in real life). I think something similar happens in scream, with the question of what is motive, but whatever. I digress.) and Hannibal Lecter. Almost immediately though, he starts to get into the REAL motive, at least for him: his father's affair with Maureen, and his mother's subsequent abandonment of him. What I think is interesting about this exchange is the elephant in the room. Sid asks "Why did you kill my mother?" and that's exactly what Billy answers. We, and Sid, are left with the question "ok, but why are you doing anything else?" Why did he and Stu kill Casey and Steve, the principal, Tatum, the camaraman (and to our knowdlege at the moment), Randy, Gale, and Dewey?

This question tries to sort of get answered later, with Sid's accusation of "you sick fucks, you've seen one too many movies", but it gets shot down immediately by Billy. He seems angry about it too, gets defensive saying that "movies don't make psychos, movies make psychos more creative!". This is not a wrong statement, however it is curious to me that he, of all people, says it, seen as earlier in the movie he says that "it's all just one big movie", and just minutes ago compared his motive with fictional characters. So him so outwardly denying any influence of movies in his motive is strange. I'll get back to this later.

The last conversation is the most direct one, and also the one that I think gets misinterpreted the most. Sid explicitly asks Stu for his motive, to which he answers "Peer pressure, I'm far too sensitive." This, to me, is clearly a joke. (Why? Well, for starters it simply doesn't make sense on a technical level. Peer pressure implies pressure to do something within a group of peers, to fit in or seem cool. Literally the only other person that was doing the murder was Billy, and that's not enough to be considered "peer pressure". It also doesn't make sense with the Stu we see mere minutes before, who is giggling all throught the kitchen scene and even says that "it was fun". Lastly, the sentence is humourous because there is a tendency to blame every bad act teenagers commit on peer pressure. Stu jokes constantly throught the movie, and even in his blood loss-ed state he was just doing that, making a stupid joke.) Many people seem to take this statement to mean that Billy pressured him into doing the murders, and while that's impossible to confirm or deny based on the little screen time Stu has in the movie, based on the fact thet the statement to me is a joke, I personaly don't think that's the case.

Ok, so that leaves us to the actual motives. So if Billy only gives his motive for killing Maureen, denys movies as a reason, and Stu only makes a joke about it, then why the fuck did they do it?

This is the point where I have to say that I think that, in the writing room, they don't have any. The same way as the writers never decided who did each kill, I don't think they really thought about why the boys did their murder spree, at least conciously. However, I think that autorial intent is not the end all be all, and speculating about fictional characters is fun, so I will be doing it either way.

Let's start with Stu, because I think that his reasons are less complicated. He's the one that I'm the most sure did not have a written reason, mostly because he is not as vital to the story (I'm so sorry for saying this he is literally my favorite character but it is what it is). I think that his "motive" is an aglomeration of different things, the main two being his "crazyness"(not actual crazyness as it is more of a legal term that he probably wouldn't apply for but you get what I mean) and his clear infatuation with Billy.

The first is probably the one with more intent behind it, seeing as the Stu we see in the movie acts in ways that support it (he is a serial killer after all). From the start of the movie we see how insensitive he is about Casey and Steve's killings, making a joke about it ("better liver alone!"). At that point in the movie we know nothing about the character, but that moment does come off as very suspicious even on a first watch, that being the joke of the scene. As we move forward we have the scene at the video store, the obvious scene that spells out who the killers are if you're open to the fact that there's two of them, in which we see how he enjoys messing with Randy, smiling and tugging at his earlobe. This is echoed later in the kitchen scene, in which he seems almost unbelivably happy. He plans to kill two of his friends and his girlfriend, acting compleatly normal towards them before the fact. Going back to the start of the movie, Casey and Steve's murders were very sadistic, both on the prelude (the calls and the "game") and the actual act, both of them being gutted. He also shows no remorse for any of it in the end of the movie, only being worried that his parents are gonna be mad. All of this to say that, even if sometimes the fandom likes to ignore it, he is a huge sadist, and that is most likely the main reason why he did the murders. In Casey's murder he also had the fact that she broke up with him, something he lied about, so we can deduce that the situation hurt his ego. The disproportionate reaction to it (murder) just comes to show how little regard he has for other people.

The second part of that I don't think was intentional. If I'm not mistaken Kevin Williamson spoke about it on an interview, stating that he, as a gay man, mostly subconciously put the queer subtext on Billy and Stu's relationship. However, subcouncious or not, it is in the movie (I actually want to make another stupidly long meta post about it), and it's what makes Stu as a character make sense to me. Whatever you think about what their dynamic is like, what is obvious is that this, the murders, are mostly for Billy. It is Billy who has the "motive", it is Billy's girlfriend they are tormenting, and it is Billy who moves the plot forward when he feels like it. All the while Stu seems more than happy to comply, going behind Randy at the video store, trapping Sid at the end of act three, giving Billy the knife whith a bow, going behind him and looking at him. I think that no matter what happened Stu would've become a killer later on, because as I've established he is a sadist, but the reason why he is doing this murders specifically is because of Billy.

Which leads me to Billy. What was going on with him? Honestly, I'm not compleately sure. To him, what happened with Maureen and the '96 spree are inextrincably linked, but I think everyone can see that there's actually not a real connection. Sid is not her mother, so Billy has no "logical" reason to torture her. My guess is a mix of jealousy, hatred/annoyance toward her and the others, the feeling of control, and well, sadisim. The jealousy aspect is pretty straightfoward: in his mind, it is her mother's fault that his mother left, so it is unfair that he has to be without her while she gets to have a mother. Seeing as he's he boyfriend he probably has to see that all the time too, and he most likely can't handle that (we see in the third act that he doesn't handle things not going his way very well). That leads to the control aspect: we have no way of knowing how he was before his mother left, but from what we see, I think that the murders were his way of taking back control after his mom left. He says in the movie that movies don't make psychos, that they make psychos more creative, and I think that the way it translates is in how he decided to take that control back. Of all of the things he could've done, he cose to make "a movie", except in real life. With acts and plot beats, and even a twist. Just murder probably wasn't enough for him, he needed to make something out of it, and what better victim than Sidney, Maureen's daughter. He seems to relish on the fact that he is the one in control of her situation ("you can't pick your genre"). Also, unlike Stu, he seems to actively dislike the friend group he's in, having a sort of disgusted face in the fountain scene, and clearly having a bad relationship with Tatum. He was most likely looking forward to getting rid of them, and exiting the situation as a survivor. Then there's also the thing that killing people definitely turns him on. I've seen a lot of people joke about the "I was watching The Exorcist and it made me think of you" line, making fun of the weird sentiment that watching "The Exorcist" might turn him on, and while I won't deny the jokes are funny, what some people seem to miss is that well, he wasn't watching The Exorcist. He was killing Casey and Steve with Stu. To me it's telling that both times we see him make out/have sex with Sid it's after it's implied he has just killed someone, first Casey/Steve and then Tatum (there's debate about who killed her, but I think that it being Billy just makes more sense time wise and also I don't know how else to explain the eyebrow bounce when he gets to the party). I think that this is something that defilitely affected his motive, and in real life many killers just got off on it (I also want to expand on this in a Stuilly post because there's Implications).

I also think that something else to be taken into account is that these are two white rich teenage boys. The way that they did it has a very strong entitlement air to it. They definitely think that they can get away with anything.

Both Kevin Williamson and Neve Capmbell have talked about their queer implications and how that might've affected their motive, and while I do want to touch on it in my incoming Stuilly Post, I don't think it was as relevant as some might think, or at least not in the way most people think.

In conclusion, Stu did it cause he's crazy and gay and Billy did it cause he's both a control freak and a freak. :)

If you have any thoughts about this PLEASE share them I really want to talk about it (as you can see)

I just wrote two thousand words about this please send help

[uselesslexbian]

the tortured poets department: the anthology sentence starters.

i just don't understand how you don't miss me.

i may never open up the way i did for you.

do you hate me?

you knew the price goin' in.

i can tell when somebody still wants me.

whether i'm gonna curse you out or take you back to my house, i haven't decided yet.

you were never not mine.

even if it's handcuffed, i'm leaving here with you.

we broke all the pieces but still want to play the game.

told my friends i hate you, but i love you just the same.

pick your poison, babe. i'm poison either way.

they tried to warn you about me.

you're in terrible danger.

i tried to warn you about them.

if you want to break my cold, cold heart, just say "i loved you the way that you were."

you said some things that i can't unabsorb.

you needed me, but you needed drugs more.

if you want to tear my world apart, say you'll always wonder.

will i always wonder?

i can't pretend like i understand.

how did it end?

it's happening again.

tell me 'bout the first time you saw me.

are you gonna marry, kiss, or kill me?

no one's ever had me, not like you.

tell me something awful.

tell me all your secrets.

i don't believe in good luck now that i know what's what.

seems like it was never even fun back then.

i'm lonely, but i'm good.

i'm bitter, but i swear i'm fine.

this place made me feel worthless.

i can't forgive the way you made me feel.

there wouldn't be this if there hadn't been you.

maybe you've reframed it and in your mind you didn't beat my spirit black and blue.

i don't think you've changed much.

everyone knows that my mother is a saintly woman but she used to say she wished that you were dead.

does it feel alright to not know me?

i'm addicted to the "if only."

i guess a lesser woman would've lost hope.

i don't want money. i just want someone who wants my company.

do you believe me now?

they say what doesn't kill you makes you aware. what happens if it becomes who you are?

is it something i did?

i thought it was just goodbye for now.

you said you were gonna grow up then you were gonna come find me.

life was always easier on you than it was on me.

i didn't want to hang around.

we must stop meeting like this.

you are bloodthirsty.

you have no room in your dreams for regrets.

i'm not a donor but i'd give you my heart if you needed it.

the story isn't mine anymore.

[latay7]

hi do you have any headcanons for abel and abyss?

Why hello helllooooo ><

Thay you so much for your request and i hope i fullflled your wish how you wanted

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

General headcannons for Abyss and Abel ☆

ੈ✩‧₊˚genre : i think fluff with a few mentions of their background stories

ੈ✩‧₊˚Note : idk why is it taking me so long to do the requests 🥲

(Btw Devider by the amazing : @saradika )

Abyss razor

For starters , we know how is our poor boy when comes to girls💀💔like , i love this man but....he is ...miserable.

So you can defently imagine the one sided tension between you too , but you were patient and gentle with him , it wasn't easier for him eaither.

At first , it took a while , but then he slowly warmed up to you because he saw how much of you were wiling to accept him for who he was. Which was something he questioned for a while.(my man will throw himself out the window if a female touched him )

I mean , not many people saw him as something other than a curse because of his eye , and being a part of the Magia Lupus , people feared him , stayed away from him.

But he was met with your kindness that no one has ever given him. He found himself thinking , Overthinking , why , why were you like this , to him ?? He was a monster , a curse...

But you saw beyond that , you saw the poor soul inside him that had to endure all that suffering , the little child that never got to feel love before , locked up in a dark room to cry himself to sleep , regretting being born , everyday.

If he was to describe it , it was how your hand slowly inches towards his so you don't jumpscare him , how you go easy with his overwhelmed self , your sickening sweet words thay he heard not with his ears , but his heart , the heart that was in you hands , and to sum it up. (i talk a lot...i know)

He loves words of affirmation and quality time , because it makes him feel the dedication and love you have for him , it makes him feel alive. And i think that he slowly leans towards physical touch since it was smth that we can say he NEVER had any of it in his life.

In return , he gives you acts of service and quality time as well (idk why but i think he's not that great with forming sentences , especially when girls) , he tries his best so you stay with him so he can live in your eternal love and warmth.

Abel and the Magia lupus know about you , athough he tries to keep you away from the latter , he sometimes tend to tell him about you when Abel notices his mood or behaviour being better than the previous days , and tbh , i feel like Abel would be a but delighted to see that change in Abyss (this is a wild take that i have no idea what basis is it taking.....headcanon w/o the head)

"Be careful of my heart won't you , see , you're taking it home with uou tonight , please , don't break it"

Abel Walker

You can fix him (wtf am i smoking)

Jokes aside , Abel , before his encounter with with Mash and you , had a very....specific....percpective of the world , but after you heard his story , you too were willing go change his looks towards the world and the people.

Approaching him was VERY difficult , let alone having a conversation with him , but you were consistant until Mash did what he did and Abel...opened up.

When you two got to talk , you tried to tell him more about what you think and see in this life but he seemed to dissmiss you , he didn't deny your ideas but he ignored you the first times.

He did that because you were kind and lovely , just like his mother , so he was intrigued , which led to unexpected outcome.

He starts showing up to you , out of te blue, for no reason 💀just to do whatever , you're studying at the library? He's there studying too, which is wierd because he as well denies the idea you're getting about him wanting go be friends.

But you're like "yeah sure buddy , whatever helps you sleep at night". He's curious , why do you think the way you think , he of course remembers his mother like that too , but he wanted to know more.

You show him , bit by bit , everything beautiful in life , and how forgivness is more powerful than revenge , and how helping others will benefit you more than focuisng on only yourself.

He didn't realise it and fell in love with you , and here , a new story began.

He's not that great with physical touch but he will always be there when you need him , freeing his schedule to be with you.

You're well acquainted with the Magia Lupus as well , (which he threatened : if anything happens to her on your watch , you're paying the price) so they to be as welcoming as ever with you.

He tells you about his mother and watchsd how you smile when he describes her and her kindness to you , and how you sympathise with him about her death.

You do everything you can to find the kind hearted soul in him , and despite him denying it , you're not gonna give up.

"It's you , despite everything , it's still you"

That was crazy , ahhhhhhhh it took me soo long im sorrryyy

And i hope i did well because this was quite the risk that i took

Anyway , i noticed that i curse a lot so im sorry if that bothers anyone-

And hope u like my next works! I'll try to be quick

[one-time-i-dreamt]

not a dream

I feel really angry. Long rant ahead, mentions of death, child death specifically, unsafe driving, entitledness, a horrible legal system, and much more. This will be a highly frustrating read to you. Skip ahead if you don't want to be bummed out.

A clip of a guy committing a traffic violation (overtaking cars in a traffic jam using a lane that's only meant for stopping in case of emergencies) on a bridge here in Croatia went viral here recently. Somebody recorded him and uploaded it to a popular car group.

After it went viral, it was uncovered that he was fined for doing the same thing at the same place two weeks before this, so he's clearly a repeat offender and hasn't learned anything even after being hit with a fine.

I wish that was the worst thing about this story, but it's not.

After people dug out more information about the driver, they discovered that in 2019, he killed a 15 year old girl while speeding on a motorcycle that he legally wasn't allowed to own nor drive.

He was only 16 at the time and could legally only drive motorcycles that fell into A1 category (power up to 15KS), and the motorcycle he was driving was a sports motorcycle KTM Duke 390 (43.5 KS). He only just got his license for the starter motorcycle to begin with.

He was speeding 117km/h in an area where the speed limit was 50km/h and hit the young girl while she was crossing the road on a pedestrian (zebra) crossing. She was walking home with two girlfriends after attending the first concert that she was allowed to go to only with friends in her whole life.

How great must that night have felt for them before tragedy struck.

His victim flew horrifying 50 meters and died on impact, while the 18 year old female passenger on his motorcycle was hospitalized with serious injuries and was fighting for her life and was in a serious condition but managed to pull through.

He was 16 and a half at the time of the accident he caused and a news site managed to find an ad he left months before that, when he was barely 16, trying to sell his motorcycle because it "didn't suit him" but it was "brand new, a month old".

This was all in 2019. In 2021, he was finally tried in court and received a sentence of 3 years and 10 months in a juvenile prison, but his sentence was reduced after his lawyers put in an appeal.

He made an impact statement and said that he too was affected by the accident and that it changed his life both physically and psychologically and that he's suffering due to it because he has become an outcast in his town as a consequence.

His lawyer allegedly fought the verdict on grounds of psychological instability and disability, and won. I don't know if the culprit ever served any time. He's 19 now and got a BMW for his birthday from his parents. The same parents that bought him a motorcycle he was too young to handle.

Their little monster is an adult now.

He hasn't learned anything. He's reckless and doesn't care about others. He hasn't showed that he is sorry. He wasn't punished nor held responsible. He's only been thinking about himself in all of this.

How it impacted HIM. What it did to HIM. HIS health, HIS social life. He's driving his birthday present BMW around and still repeatedly breaking the law, and he's alive and he's free.

And 15 year old Magdalena Šimić is still dead because of him.

I've learned of this story because of a post that Magdalena's mother, Sandra wrote, that somebody I know shared. I was horrified, sad and angry for the family, but I can't even begin to imagine how they feel in all of this.

Powerless? Broken? Enraged? They're still waiting for some kind of justice for their daughter. A justice that won't come until things change. How is it that this guy is allowed to have a driver's license? That he's completely avoided jail time?

A crime like this should not go unpunished and the parents of the culprit who bought him the murder weapon and allowed him to use it should be punished as well.

-Matea

[calisources]

HBO'S HOUSE OF THE DRAGON.   sentence   starters   taken   from   the   hbo's   adaptation   of   fire and blood  from   george   r.r.   martin.   change   titles,   names   and   pronouns   as   you   see   fit.

The gods have yet to make a man who lacks the patience for absolute power.

You cannot live your life in fear, or you will forsake the best parts of it. 

Many that are tested only wish to have been spared it.

Meat without wine is also a sin. 

Do not allow your temper to guide your judgement. 

Reluctance to murder is not a weakness.

Dreams didn’t make us kings. Dragons did.

We have always been meant to burn together.

The gods give just as the gods take away.

The road ahead is uncertain, but the end is clear.

I’m Queen Rhaenyra now. And you all are traitors to the realm.

The gods have yet to make a man who lacks the patience for absolute power.

You cannot live your life in fear, or you will forsake the best parts of it. 

Many that are tested only wish to have been spared it.

Meat without wine is also a sin. 

Do not allow your temper to guide your judgement. 

Reluctance to murder is not a weakness.

Dreams didn’t make us kings. Dragons did.

We have always been meant to burn together.

The gods give just as the gods take away.

The road ahead is uncertain, but the end is clear.

I’m Queen Rhaenyra now. And you all are traitors to the realm.

What is this brief, mortal life, if not the pursuit of legacy?

The Iron Throne looms larger than me, larger than anyone in my family.

Exhausting, wasn’t it? Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness. But now they see you as you are.

A marriage is a duty, yes. But that doesn’t stop us from doing what we want. From f***ing who we want.

When I’m Queen, I will create a new order.

I will speak of my brother as I wish. You will not.

Everyone says Targaryens are closer to gods than to men, but they say that because of our dragons. Without them, we’re just like everyone else.

You desire not to be free, but to make a window in the wall of your prison. Have you never imagined yourself on the Iron Throne?

When dragons flew to war… everything burned. I do not wish to rule over a kingdom of ash and bone.

Tongues will not change the succession. Let them wag.

There are times when I would rather face the Black Dread himself than mine own daughter.

Take care not to startle Syrax, my lords. She’s rather protective of me.

If the King isn’t feared, he is powerless. If you are to be a strong queen, you must cultivate love and respect, yes, but your subjects must fear you.

History does not remember blood. It remembers names.

Where is duty? Where is sacrifice? It’s trampled under your pretty foot again.

When one is never invited to speak, one learns instead to observe.

I would rather feed my sons to the dragons than have them carry shields and cups for your drunken, usurper c**t of a king.

I’m next in line to the throne. Should they come looking for me, I intend to be found.

No king has ever lived that hasn’t had to forfeit the lives of a few to protect the many.

No matter how fat the leech grows, it always wants for another meal.

We have royal wombs, you and I. The childbed is our battlefield. We must learn to face it with a stiff lip.

We play an ugly game. And now, for the first time, I see that you have the determination to win it.

Who gives a f*** what some lord thinks? You are the dragon. Your word is truth and law.

You are the King, and so, your first duty is to the realm. Mother would’ve understood this. Just as I do.

You sit upon the highest seat in the realm, Your Grace. Proud men don’t like having to look up.

By naming me heir, you divided the realm.

I thought I wanted it. But the burden is a heavy one. It’s too heavy. If you wish me to bear it, then defend me.

A loyal Hand must tell his king a discomforting truth from time to time, Your Grace. If he doesn’t, he’s failed as a servant.

A seat at the King’s table does not make you his equal.

Fire is such strange power. Everything that House Targaryen possesses is owed to it. Yet it has cost us both what we loved.

How sweetly the fox speaks when it’s been cornered by the hounds.

The blood of the dragon runs thick.

The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided.

The idea that we control the dragons is an illusion. They’re a power man should never have trifled with. One that brought Valyria its doom.

The truth does not matter. Only perception.

We are the blood of Old Valyria. We don’t belong here.

Valyria is gone. We don’t belong anywhere.

We are the realm’s second sons, Daemon. Our worth is not given. It must be made.

We do not rule but we may guide the men that do.

We don’t choose our destiny. It chooses us.

A dragon’s saddle is one thing, but the Iron Throne is the most dangerous seat in the realm.

Born wearing a crown? Gods spare me, birth is unpleasant enough as it is.

Daemon only ever does what is best for Daemon.

Perhaps the Velaryons knew the truth of it. The sea is the better ally.

For men marriage might be a political arrangement. For women it is like to be a death sentence.

Has anybody ever told you’re nearly as pretty as your brother?

I did not decide to name Rhaenyra my heir on a whim. All the lords of the kingdom would do well to remember that.

I imagine even dragons get lonely.

A king or queen, strong enough to unite the realm against the cold and the dark.

If we are to serve the Seven Kingdoms, we must answer to their gods.

It’s no easy thing for a man to be a dragonslayer. But dragons can kill dragons. And have.

Many in my line have been dragon riders. Very few among us have been dreamers. What is the power of a dragon, next to the power of prophecy?

My mother was made to produce heirs until it killed her. I won’t subject myself to the same fate.

My oath reaches beyond our personal ambitions.

Swear anew your oath to Rhaenyra as your queen, to Prince Jacaerys as the heir to the Iron Throne. Or, if you support the usurper, speak it now, and you will have a clean and honorable death.

But if you choose treachery, if you swear fealty now only to later turn your cloaks, know that you will die… screaming.

[hbyrde36]

Life is a Game (and True Love is a Trophy)

Chapter 2

Ch 1 ao3 link

*Eddie - 1986*

Dustin burst in the door without knocking. A habit Eddie had been trying to break him out of for years. One of these days he’d do it at the wrong time and see something he’ll wish he hadn’t. Maybe then he’d learn his lesson.

“So, don’t freak out but…”

“Ugh” Eddie groaned, pushing his face further into his pillow. “It’s never good when you start a sentence like that. At least let me get some coffee first.”

“Fine.” Dustin relented, stomping back out into the kitchen of the Munson trailer.

Ten minutes later and with coffee in hand, Eddie motioned for Dustin to continue with whatever nonsense he’d woken him up for this morning.

“I told the guys about Steve, about you knowing him.”

“Dustin!” Eddie shouted, incredulously.

“What? It’s not like it’s some big secret or something!”

“You didn’t know!”

“No, I didn't. But I should have realized, and I shouldn’t have said what I did the other night about him. That wasn’t cool. That’s why I told them, because I felt bad, and because I was thinking that maybe we could do a little investigation of our own?”

The kid meant well and it was sweet that he wanted to do something to make Eddie feel better, but what did he think he and a bunch of teenagers would be able to do about it?

Eddie shook his head. “I already told you man, his parents are loaded. I’m sure they left no stone unturned. What could we possibly do that they haven't already tried?”

Dustin’s face spread into a cocky grin. “For starters, Mike talked to Nancy. Did you know she dated Steve for a little while right around the time Will got lost in the woods?”

He had known that actually. In fact he vividly remembered catching the two of them in the boy’s bathroom that one time. He’d never thought about it in reference to Steve’s disappearance before though. The couple had broken up a few months before it happened.

“Yea, okay. So, they dated. What’s that got to do with anything?”

“I'm not sure if it does, but the police never even talked to her. Mike said she was willing to talk to us about him, if you want.”

Eddie couldn’t believe he was actually considering this, but it was hard to deny how intrigued he was to learn more about Steve. Even if it didn’t lead to any answers about what had happened to him.

“You know what? Fuck it. Let's do it.” Eddie declared, slamming his now empty cup down on the table for emphasis.

“Language! I am a child!.” Dustin gasped, in a dramatic impersonation of his mother.

“Shut it, nerd.”

“You literally play D&D with children! Who’s the nerd now?!”

-

Eddie had never really had a full conversation with Nancy. They said hi in passing, and whenever he came to the house to play with the boys of course, but that was the extent of it. Now he was supposed to sit here in the Wheeler’s basement, like it was any other day, and talk to her about her ex boyfriend. Awkward.

Or, maybe not. 

According to Dustin, Nancy knew all about their game, including how she, Steve, and many others were used as characters in it. She understood their curiosity. She herself had always thought that there was something suspicious about the whole thing. That maybe there was more going on in Hawkins than a single missing boy.

“Do you remember the day in the cafeteria, when Steve got into that screaming match with Tommy and Carol?”

Eddie shook his head. “No, but I heard it was brutal.” He’d skipped out early that day to meet up with Rick for more product. The whole school was buzzing about it the next day, he could have kicked himself for missing the show.

“It was. I was shocked. I had never seen him act like that. I know he and I hadn’t been together that long, so I could be wrong, but It seemed so out of character. I mean, everything he said was true, and those two probably deserved it, but the three of them had been best friends for years. He never stood up to them before, so why now? It felt like it came out of nowhere.” 

She paused, taking a breath and gathering her thoughts before continuing.

“I remember him looking at me, just before he stormed off when it was all over. He didn’t look mad, it was more like.. I don’t know, scared, maybe?”

Well, that was a little ominous. Eddie and the younger boys shared a look as Nancy got up from her seat on the couch and started pacing.

“He called me later that night and asked me to come over so we could talk. When I got there, he stepped out onto the porch instead of letting me come inside. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but looking back, it was a little odd. We sat on the steps and he said that he was sorry, but he couldn’t see me anymore. I asked him if there was someone else, but he said no. He just wanted to be single for a while and concentrate on other things. It was fine. I don’t think either of us were too upset about it. We hugged and said our goodbyes, and that was the last time I spoke to him.”

She stopped pacing, standing directly in front of Eddie as she finished her story.

“I still saw him around, of course, and heard about how he quit the school teams. Which seemed weird, because, what was this more important thing he was focusing on? Clearly it wasn’t sports. Then he started skipping school, so it wasn’t about his grades either. I started to wonder if maybe he had gotten into drugs or something.” 

Or, he could have just been lying to let you down easy, Eddie thought, but that wasn’t very kind. Instead he said, “If he was, he wasn't getting them from me.” 

Dustin gasped. “Wait, dude, are you really a drug dealer?”

Fuck. “Um. No?”

“You are! You’re totally a drug dealer!” Dustin said, bouncing in his seat and pointing a finger in Eddie’s face.

Eddie groaned. “Please stop yelling ‘drug dealer’ before Mike's parents hear you and kick me out!”

“Does that mean you smoke pot?” Lucas asked.

 “Can we smoke pot?” Mike added quickly, grinning.

“Absolutely not!” Eddie and Nancy shouted, simultaneously.

He turned to her, hands raised. “For the record, I don’t sell anymore. Not since my supplier went to jail.”

Dustin’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh shit, is Reefer Rick a real person?”

Nancy gave Eddie a hard look.

“What?! We all used people from our life in the game!” He said defensively. “Look, guys, I think we’re getting off track here.”

“Is there anything else weird you remember about Steve from before he disappeared?” Will asked Nancy, speaking for the first time. Eddie threw him a grateful smile.

“Not that I can think of.”

“What about his parents?” Lucas asked.

“I never met them, but he always said his dad was an asshole. The way he talked sometimes, it sounded like they weren’t around a lot.”

The image of it flashed in Eddie’s mind for a moment. Steve, all by himself in that big empty house of his. Haunting its hallways in the middle of the night. He shook his head roughly to clear it. 

Maybe it was silly to think of it that way. What teenage boy wouldn’t love having the house to himself? No one hassling you or telling you what to do. He couldn’t explain why, but somehow he didn’t think Steve liked being alone.

Eddie was startled when Nancy placed a hand on his arm. She looked at him, face pinched with concern. He realized suddenly that they were alone. He’d been so lost in thought that he didn’t realize the boys had left. She saw him looking around and explained.

“I sent the boys upstairs for lunch. It looked like you needed a minute.”

“Yea, sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately.” He got up to collect his things, and headed towards the basement steps.

“It’s the time of year. I get it, I've been thinking about him a lot too.” She said, following him.

Eddie shook his head. It wasn’t the same, she was allowed to think about Steve. To miss him. What right did Eddie have? “That’s different. You dated the guy. We weren’t even friends.”

“You’re allowed to miss him, Eddie.”

“No, I'm not.”

“He thought you were brave, y’know.”

“What?” He stopped walking, but couldn’t bring himself to turn around to face her. 

“He told me once, the first time I sat with him for lunch. You had jumped up on your table, ranting and raving about whatever had bothered you that day.” She sounded amused at the memory. “Tommy and the others sneered and complained, but not Steve. He smiled as he watched you. He said, ‘sometimes I wish I could be brave like that. Just stop caring about what everyone else thinks and be free’.”

He finally looked back at her over his shoulder. She smiled at him kindly, it seemed genuine so he returned the gesture.

“Thanks, Wheeler.”

-

Eddie didn’t stay to join the boys for lunch, though he did make plans to meet up with them the next day. He needed some time alone to process what they’d learned so far. He did his best thinking in the van, so he drove around town aimlessly, blasting Metallica and trying to sort through it all. 

Eventually he made his way to Loch Nora, slowing when he reached Steve’s street. He’d never been inside the Harrington house, but he knew where it was. There was no car in the driveway, so he rolled to a stop in front of it. A ‘For Sale’ sign was stuck in the grass a few feet to the right of the mailbox.

He hadn’t realized Steve’s parents were selling the place. Good, Eddie thought. It would make his next task that much easier. He’d come up with a plan, of sorts, as he cruised around Hawkins. The first step? A good old fashioned breaking and entering.   

-

*Steve - 1983/1984*

Two days after finding Eleven out in the woods, Steve cut ties with all his friends. He made a big scene out of calling Tommy and Carol assholes in the middle of the cafeteria, to really drive the point home. He turned himself into a social pariah overnight, anything to keep people from wanting to get close to him.  

He let Nancy go. It was easy enough. He found that he wasn’t even all that upset about it, he knew she wouldn't be too sad either. He’d seen how she looked at Jonathan that day at school, when the news broke that Will was missing. They would get together before too long, he was sure of it.

He quit the swim team, basketball, and only continued going to school because dropping out would be too suspicious. He started skipping days a lot. 

-

Eleven, who he’d taken to calling El for short, needed her own space. He would have loved to decorate the guest room for her, would have let her paint the walls and everything. Unfortunately, his parents still came home on occasion, and it would be too hard to hide. Instead, they worked together to fix up a space for her in the attic. Even when they were home, his parents never went up there. 

He didn’t know anything about little girls, but neither did El, so they figured things out together. He set her up with a T.V. to keep her company when he was gone during the day. He gave her a bunch of catalogs to look through, and told her to take a marker and circle anything she liked. Clothes, bedding, curtains, toys, he bought it all. Perks of the Harrington name, and a credit card with a high spending limit.

By the time her attic room was done, she finally felt secure enough to sleep in her own bed. She felt safe in the knowledge that her new brother wouldn’t abandon her as she slept, or lock her inside. Sometimes though, he would wake up to find she’d come into his room in the middle of the night. Almost always when it rained.

They quickly became a little family, he and El. Steve didn’t have any siblings, hadn’t thought he even liked kids, and certainly never knew how much he wanted a little sister until she came along. He taught her what he knew about the world, and in return he learned the importance of patience and kindness.  Together, they discovered unconditional love. 

For a few wonderful months, life was good. There was a little hiccup in January of ‘84, when eleven accidentally knocked a vase off the counter in the kitchen. It was fine. She caught it with her mind before it hit the floor, then levitated it back upright on the counter. It was the first time she’d used her powers in front of Steve. Powers he had been completely unaware of.

He’d hyperventilated for a while, but once he recovered he explained to her that, ‘No sweetie, I didn’t know you could do that, but it’s fine. I promise. No, I'm not afraid of you. It’s just another part of you, and I love who you are.’

It was another turning point for them, a catalyst that compelled her to explain more about where she came from. What sort of things they did to her at the lab, and she finally told him all about Papa and the other children. 

Steve had never pushed her on any of it, happy to just keep her safe, and wait until she was ready to talk. Once she did? Well, he was fucking livid. It was all he could do not to go to the newspapers, or Chief Hopper, and blow the whole thing wide open. Hell, he would have found the place himself and burnt it to the ground if he didn’t know for a fact that there were other kids living inside. 

In the end, he did nothing. Too afraid that if he was caught, or worse, there would be no one who knew about El, or where she was. There would be no one to take care of her.

-

It was all his fault. He should have known better. It was his job to take care of her, and he had failed in that task spectacularly. It was spring break 1984, Easter Sunday. He’d just wanted to take her out to breakfast, something he could remember doing with his own parents for the holiday when he was young. Back when they at least pretended to give a shit about him. 

They were as safe about it as they could have been. He picked a small restaurant two towns over, where no one would recognize them. She looked so happy when she smiled at him over her massive stack of waffles.

He didn’t see it for what it was, when the two nondescript white work vans pulled into the parking lot of the diner. Movies had him envisioning a legion of fancy black town cars pulling up on him one day, a swarm of dark suits surrounding him, demanding to know where the girl was. He should have known that Papa would be a bit more subtle.

The bell above the main entrance door dinged as a new customer entered. El looked up reflexively at the sound and her eyes went wide. It was the only warning Steve had before a tall man with white hair and an impeccably tailored gray suit slid into the booth next to him.

“Hello, Eleven. You’re looking well.”

Steve watched as she curled in on herself. Turning back into the little girl he found in the woods right before his eyes. 

“Papa.” She gasped, bottom lip trembling.

The man turned to look at Steve. “I’m Dr. Brenner. Now, don’t go getting any big ideas, young man. I have people on every door to this place. You’ll never make it to that pretty car of yours in time, and I can assure you that if you try, they will not hesitate to... deal with the situation.”

Steve froze, not remotely prepared for this scenario. He didn’t know what to do and was scared of making a misstep. He wasn’t afraid for himself, he didn’t care what happened to him, but he was terrified for El, and the possibility of losing his sister forever. 

“Here’s what's going to happen.” Brenner continued. “Eleven is going to leave this place with me, right now. You, Mr. Harrington, yes I know all about you, are going to go back to your life and forget that any of this ever happened. If you so much as think about telling anyone what you’ve seen, we will know, and we will come for you.”

“I’m not going to just let you take her.” Steve protested, heart pounding.

“You don’t have a say in the matter.”

“If you take her then you’ll have to take me too!” Steve raised his voice a little too loudly, drawing the attention of the other diners. 

“That’s not an option.” Brenner hissed. “I have no need for someone like you”

Steve lowered his voice to a whisper, knowing that angering the man further wasn’t going to help. “I’m not leaving her. I’ll die first. You’ll have to kill me right here and now in front of all these people. Do you really want to make that big of a scene?”

Steve could tell the man was considering it. “Please.“ He begged. “I'm sure you can find some use for me. I’ll do anything.”

Brenner sighed. “Very well. You will both follow me outside. Leave your car keys on the table, Steven, you won’t be needing them.”

The man slid out of the booth, threw more cash than necessary on the table, and walked out the door.

Steve scrambled out of his seat at the same time El did, and they collided in a desperate embrace. She was shaking, crying. Steve ran his fingers through her short curls. 

“I'm sorry El, I'm so sorry. I shouldn’t have brought you here.”

She looked up at him, blinking through tears. “It’s not your fault, they would have found me eventually, one way or another.”

“I’ll get us out of this somehow, I promise.”

She took a small step away from him and shook her head. “No, Steve. You have to let him take me. Only me. You have a life, parents, a family.”

He shook his head, taking her small hand in his. “You are my family El. I’m not leaving you. We’re in this together. You and me, always.”

Chapter 3

@penny00dreadful @buckleybarnes @steddie-there @yeahhhh-suga @goinsteddie @brbsoulnomming @the-s-is-silent @paintsplatteredandimperfect @estrellami-1 @herebedragons404 @epiclazershark @iaminmultiplefandoms @adaed5 @mentallyundone @hardboiledleggs @hotshot9 @manda-panda-monium

[zcrayas]

[luminaryofblood] "You keep dangerous company... But then, I suppose I can't think of better company. Not in this time and age."

BALDUR'S GATE 3 SENTENCE STARTERS || Highly accepting!

Rya lifted her head, blinking at the towering figure. Hands crossed close to her chest. Unlike the current company, she was the contrast to the danger.

Since little, Rya had no friends of her age, growing up among recusants, or who ever her mother invited for trials. Among knights and dedicated the champions also included the wretched, murderers, deserters and those escaping ghosts from their pasts. Dangerous people, for dangerous tasks. Yet, she had opportunity to see better side of humanity within them. By cover, not many seemed too different.

Being no human herself she found kinship among the variety of beings mostly deceived by cover - aggressive, for having suffered of wrong doings. Some... pushed others away until convinced otherwise.

Perhaps, she had been merely lucky to avoid confrontation of a true monster, more likely, in a skin of a human, rather than anything else.

Finally, she spoke.

"...I suppose it depends, if I am in danger... I cannot think of anyone who hadn't stained their hands in blood. Whether in name of the Order, or blasphemy against it..." || @luminaryofblood

[leiasources]

an  assortment  of  disney  sentence  starters.    a  compilation  of  sentence  starters  from  and  inspired  by  lilo  and  stitch,  lady  and  the  tramp,  lady  and  the  tramp  ii:  scamp’s  adventure,  the  little  mermaid  and  the  little  mermaid  ii:  return  to  the  sea.  feel  free  to  adjust  as  necessary  but  do  not  add  to  the  list.  thank  you!

‘ i don't see how a world that makes such wonderful things could be bad. ’

‘ if anybody ever needed a muzzle, it's him ... ’

‘ have you lost your senses completely? ’

‘ i'd give anything to have what you have. ’

‘ i didn't mean it, {name}, i don't know what i was thinking! ’

‘ beyond those distant hills, who knows what wonderful experiences there are, and it's all ours for the taking. ’

‘ if you promise not to fight anymore, i promise not to yell at you ... except on special occasions. ’

‘ you ... saved my life. nobody else here would have dared to do that. ’

‘ you don't know what it was like. ’

‘ i see you haven't changed a bit. ’

‘ hey! watch where you're going, stupid head! ’

‘ you don't belong on the street. you won't last five minutes out here. ’

‘ wonder what they do around here for excitement. ’

‘ do we have a lobster door? no! we have a dog door! we're getting a dog. ’

‘ we're just going to forget this whole thing ever happened. ’

‘ how could there be anything wrong with something so wonderful? ’

‘ i'm not going home! you can't make me. ’

‘ did you lose your job because of me? ’

‘ if you want to leave, you can. i'll remember you though. i remember everyone that leaves. ’

‘ i just ... i just don't feel like i belong here. have you ever felt that way? ’

‘ i'm giving you a choice, you can come with me or you can return home. ’

‘ if your father knew about this place- ’

‘ if you ask me, she's a little strange ... ’

‘ everybody thinks i'm ... weird ... ’

‘ this is great. this is living! i never get to do this at home. ’

‘ why don't you go tell my father? you're good at that. ’

‘ stop criticizing me! that's all my mother ever did, criticize me! ’

‘ you're hiding something from me ... ’

‘ remember this: a human heart has only so much room for love and affection. ’

‘ i'm going to bust us out of here, if it's the last thing i do. ’

‘ i know you're trying, {name}, but you need to think about what's best for them ... even if it removes you from the picture. ’

‘ i've given you what you've always wanted ... they're the one who's been lying to you all these years. ’

‘ it wasn't built to keep something out ... it was built to keep me in. ’

‘ you've got no one to blame but yourself. ’

‘ well ... that's what comes of tying yourself down to one person. ’

‘ we could run off together. we don't need them. ’

‘ you're just like ... like your mother. ’

‘ it's about time you settle down. ’

‘ i thought we could sit out here and talk. ’

‘ i'm sorry i bit you ... and pulled your hair ... and punched you in the face. ’

‘ sometimes you try your hardest but things don't work out the way you want them to. ’

‘ i hope that you appreciate what i go through for you. ’

‘ take my advice and settle down with this one, huh? ’

‘ i should have been home hours ago ... ’

‘ i'm late because i had to go to the store and get peanut butter because all we have is stinkin' tuna- ’

‘ no, you don't belong there, you're better than that and that's what i like about you. ’

‘ you know, i really believed they had a chance ... then you came along. ’

‘ isn't it obvious? {name}'s in love. ’

‘ why didn't you wait at the school? you were supposed to wait there! ’

‘ that's the first time i've seen you smile in weeks. ’

‘ i know that's why you wreck things and why you're mean to me sometimes ... ’

‘ i was just like you when i was your age. ’

‘ i don't need you to shelter and protect me! ’

‘ you're not like the rest of us. you're good and kind. the streets will beat that out of you if you stay. ’

‘ you really want a family, don't you? ’

‘ i've got a very comfortable home, where i know you'll be loved and appreciated ... ’

‘ why do you act so weird? ’

‘ open up your eyes to what life can really be ... ’

‘ are you going to play dolls? ’

‘ this is great. i mean, i really love this ... adventure, excitement, danger lurking around every corner ... ’

‘ you don't have to be scared of me. i won't hurt you. ’

‘ we can't go in! the sign says- ’

‘ i need you to stay here for a few minutes. i'm going to be right back. ’

‘ i'm {number} years old! i'm not a child! ’

‘ hey, i brought you some pizza in case you were hungry. ’

‘ i'm not your girl. i don't belong to anyone ... ’

‘ i wish i could tell {name} how i feel ... but they'd never understand. ’

‘ you seem very familiar ... have we met? ’

‘ people treat me different. ’

‘ i know you've been keeping something from me. ’

‘ sometimes ... things have to change and maybe sometimes they're for the better. ’

‘ you didn't think they would miss you!? ’

‘ this is you and this is your badness level. it's unusually high for someone your size. ’

‘ all i ever hear is rules, rules, rules ... don't do this and don't do that ... ’

‘ everyone has trouble fitting in at your age. i know i did. i was a regular fish out of water. ’

‘ there's a great, big hunk of world out there with no fence around it, where two people can find adventure and excitement ... ’

‘ why did you keep the truth from me? ’

‘ i bet they've got a lid on every trash can ... oh, and a fence around every tree. ’

‘ we're a broken family, aren't we? ’

‘ if it wasn't for you, i would have wound up somewhere else... ’

‘ i'm the only one who understands them. you take that way, they won't stand a chance. ’

‘ our family is little now and we don't have much but if you want you could be a part of it. ’

‘ i'm going to stuff you in the blender, push puree then bake you into a pie and feed it to- ’

‘ when you're footloose and unattached ... well, that's nothing but the best. ’

‘ what are you doing out here? don't you have a nice family back home? ’

‘ don't you have a family? ’

‘ oh man, must have been horrible having someone care about you that much ... ’

‘ you have a home and a family that loves you. you're not like the rest of us, {name}. ’

‘ i'm just so afraid i'm going to make a total fool of myself. ’

‘ you're hiding something from me ... ’

‘ i didn't think they would miss me that much ... ’

‘ have you ever seen anything so wonderful in your entire life? ’

‘ i got to get to work. stick around town and stay out of the roads, okay? ’

‘ they aren't much of a family ... but what choice do i have? ’

‘ it's clear to me that you need them a lot more than they need you. ’

‘ i might not be a doctor but i know that there's no better cure for a sour face than a couple of boards and some choice waves. what do you think?  ’

‘ you're such a pain. ’

‘ come to join the party? ’

‘ the world out there is full of traps. here? here you have a family that loves you. ’