LINES TO FALL IN LOVE WITH:

[Danny Jones]

So it was only fitting when his little caramel-skinned valkyrie infiltrated your raid with ten of his best, and put twenty bullets in your chest with the kind of vindictive, all-encompassing efficiency that terrain advantage, surprise, and a broken heart will grant anyone with enough experience and will.

But it doesn't start like that, either.

[Fred]

He is misconstructed and he doesn’t align with the earth’s rotation, but he knows his way around a body. He knows your body like it’s his own.

It's that time of year again. Getting colder. Reminds me of how much you loved this awful weather. The cold - not much back home, but we always traveled around now, didn't we? New York, Chicago, all the places filled with people and snow and freeze. You always kept me from freezing.

You spill cereal all over your lap, stomach and then all over the floor because the bowl upends when you jump off the couch to run to your bathroom and blow burning, screaming chunks all over the bathroom floor, the hallway. You totally miss the toilet. It gets everywhere and you're crying big, ugly sobs and wiping the tears all over your face.

[Elijah]

Ahead, the wind bullies a street sign. STOP, it pleas, rubicund yet stolid. The air slides its slender fingers between the flaps of your military jacket, crawling up the curve of your stomach and over your chest, leaving you breathless as it wraps around you and envelopes you. STOP. The metal is bent, as if shouldering the relentless storm. You are bent much the same way, heavy limbs sluggish in the cold; you are windswept; you are helpless; you are glacial. STOP.

He says, "Kill the alarm, Sarah," and you correct, "Bitch. Kill the alarm, bitch."

He says, "Kill the alarm. Bitch."

And she does it, and then you keep the gun on him and you walk them inside their home.

And no other lights come on.

The neighbors are sure it's nothing.

The house doesn't burn all at once. It's an escalation.

It starts slow.

I take a drink of my gin and then spew it, because Wilson decides to hit me, after all.

I spend the first day of the Prohibition with a black eye and a hangover.

It's here, where it's quiet and you're not alone but you can pretend you are, that you let it out. You bellow your rage into the trees and shake them with your sound. You drop on your knees and you beat your fists into the dry earth like a child having a tantrum. You're the only one who ends up dirty and bloody. The path remains the same.

Everett tells God that he's thankful for his family, and all he's been given. He asks him softer, like he's trying to keep it secret from you in the midnight quiet of your shared bedroom, filled only with the shallow breath you tried to hold, for the courage to do- something.

You'll wake up later and wonder what.

Looking at a guy my size you'd think I was heavily into sports, like some built American jock you see on the telly running down centre field.

Get fucked.

I have nothing against sports, the equipment just seemed to have an issue with me; especially in high school.

Moving from Belfast to Tokyo was a shock to the system to say the least. I won't linger on all the cultural clashes that happened, they were embarrassing. Tokyo was where I met Baba, the woman I'm convinced gave me all her traits instead of her dick of a son, Hideo.

Needless to say I was a very angry kid.

It wasn't sport. This was sport.

when everything hurts, you may as well be productive while you bleed.

The colours of the world washed away into something bleak and it feels a hell of a lot like there's nothing holding you up anymore - more of a life line than puppet strings and it's gone. They're gone.

[Amaya_Shannis]

A blonde, a redhead and a brunette walk into a bar.

The blonde was an enemy most of your life.
The redhead is so sweet and kind.
The brunette is your exwife whom you still care for.

All three want you.

Which do you choose? Which would have more fun and be the best for you?

You choose a beer. A big one, because its the safest decision right then.

[Deston]

There's blood in the wind, and your hounds are howling. The moon is out, and you buy them each a plane ticket to halfway across the world for their hunt. You're sure Joshua is waiting outside, so you buy a third.

You cannot give them justice, so you'll give them vengeance.

You've always had a bit of a talent for giving people what they want rather than what they need, after all.

You go ahead and call it love, for lack of a better definition.

[Oberon]

But the thing about you being an asshole is.
I'm gay.





And I love you.

You stupid wonderful assholes

[Alex Ayres]

Thick tresses of jet black spun out in inky tendrils. Almond shaped eyes, so dark as to almost appear black, slowly turned dull as the rictus of death took her.

[Alex Ayres]

funky cunt buckets.

[Airey]

funky cunt buckets.

[Jenny]

He had a barbed whip for a tongue and it drew blood whenever he spoke.