Feb 10, 2019
She didn't need a pathway into the future, or a road that took her years ahead, all the way to old age. She just needed a reason to take the next breath.
Aliette de Bodard, In The Vanishers' Palace
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She didn't need a pathway into the future, or a road that took her years ahead, all the way to old age. She just needed a reason to take the next breath.
Aliette de Bodard, In The Vanishers' Palace
"You remember yer parents at all?"
"Not really."
"Guess if I think 'bout it, there's somethin' there, but it disappears just as quick as it comes." Calloused fingers rub along stubble, "Don't matter, Miss Melanie's more a mom than whoever dumped my ass with'er. What 'bout you?"
“You’re cruel.”
"Yes. I know. We've fought before- and if you don't kill me, we'll fight again.
I'm sorry to put something this heavy upon your shoulders- if things were different, I'd like to think we might be able to get along. You seem very kind.
Be strong. You can do this.
So get up, okay? Try again. You're stronger than you think."
i think you’re a lonely person.
from some meme i dont remember oops
Erik takes the seat behind Janos’ desk, tucked away from the wall of windows, the twinkling lights, the high-gloss wooden dance floor, and the floor-to-ceiling mirrors of the front of the studio. The office is well decorated–each piece of decor meticulously organized, curated for the space–but impersonal, much like that of a high-end hotel room. Where most would have photos of family members or friends on display, scattered about the walls or across their desks, Janos has stock photos and framed magazine clippings of dancers and recitals.
It seems his students either don’t care, or don’t see the difference, too wrapped up in the performance of it all, willingly suspending any disbelief they might have nested in the backs of their minds. What a beautiful office, they’ll often gasp, reaching out to touch the strangers behind the glass with one hand as they plunge the other into their wallets.
“You are right, jefe,” he says, voice low as he forgoes the man’s name for his position, his status: above, separate, removed.
Janos does not have many true personal relationships, and even with Erik--as much as Janos longs for more than he gets, and despite all the times they’ve clearly crossed that wavering line--his loneliness gnaws at him. But, he’s of the opinion that loneliness is a better alternative to heartbreak; to the death of dear ones; to countless rejections, each more painful than the last.
Even so--
“But I am not the only one.”
🔪+10 ((i mean chris's weapon of choice is his hands so))
Stab Miles | @marchinglittlepig | Accepting10 - Mun’s choice Randomly generated. THROUGH THE HEART
He was tired. So fucking tired. The only thing keeping him going anymore was fear, Pure instinct telling him not to die. Running from Chris Walker was becoming an odd brand of normal for him. He never fucked off and left him alone. He obviously planned on killing everyone and Miles was at the top of the list right now.
He was so close to the end of the hallway, but the huge fucker was right behind him. He kept his eyes on the old door at the end. It was cracked, he could shut himself in there and slow the bastard down. So long as it wasn’t a dead end… But he didn’t exactly have a ton of other options. He reached the door and swung it open quickly. Chris was closer than he thought. As soon as he went to slam the door behind him, the huge guy was too close. He was caught off guard and took a shaky step back. Chris swung his huge fist at him and he tried to move. The blow landed right at his right shoulder and sent him across the room with a howl of pain. His shoulder was dislocated or broken. But he wouldn’t suffer long.
A broken water pipe was sticking out of the wall and Miles was moving with enough force for it to pierce the stick of his back. It sunk into him until it came out the other side coming out through his chest, through his heart. The sound he made sounded more like a wounded animal. The pain was worse than his fingers or the shoulder combined. His eyes were on Chris, but they wouldn’t focus. So much blood already pouring out of him… And the fucking thing was still in him. The world was spinning around him and his body screamed in pain. He couldn’t move. He was stuck to the wall. Even the smallest quiver or shake would cause him to scream. And then things went dark and the sounds of the asylum started to drift away from him. Despite being trapped in darkness, he was still alive and in fucking pain. He assumed this would be fast but… Hell, it felt like hours. He couldn’t breathe much, his chest was burning and felt too fucking tight. He wished he could speak… He wanted to beg for Chris to just kill him. But all that left his mouth was whimpers and pained murmurs.
And then he felt cold… Too fucking cold….
… He felt alone…
… He felt nothing.
.
THE WINGS NO OH MY GOD NO
HIS WINGS I'M SOBBING