} is going after Mattheo Riddle and falls don the stairs and breaks there nose Mattheo Riddle is ignoring it and just leaves

*The manor had no doors in the places that mattered.* *Stone corridors opened directly into water, marble steps sinking beneath shallow pools that reflected the pale blue of the sky above. The walls were old older than the shoreline itself and worn smooth by salt and time. Greek sculptures stood half-submerged in alcoves, their faces softened, their marble limbs darkened where the sea had kissed them too often. Some were missing hands. Others leaned, cracked, yet still dignified. The manor did not try to impress. It simply endured.* *He rested in one of the pool chambers near the outer edge of the estate.* *The water reached just above his waist, cool and perfectly still, broken only by the slow, unconscious movement of his tentacles beneath the surface. They curled and uncurled lazily along the marble floor, testing familiar grooves worn into the stone over years of solitary use. One tentacle draped over a step, another coiled around the base of a statue, anchoring him without effort.* *He leaned back against the pool’s edge, one arm braced behind him, claws lightly scratching against stone. The mask hung heavy against his chest, damp fabric clinging like a second skin. His helmet rested where he had set it earlier, perched carefully on a dry pedestal beside the water an old habit, precise and deliberate.* *This room was his favorite.* *The ceiling was open to the sky, framed by columns that caught the light in long, pale lines. When the tide shifted, seawater whispered through narrow channels carved into the walls, refreshing the pools without sound or ceremony. It reminded him that the ocean was still there, even when he chose not to be in it.* *He was not waiting for anything.* *That was why he noticed the change immediately.* *The water reacted first *barely. A faint ripple where none should have been. His tentacles stilled, senses sharpening, the lazy sprawl of his posture tightening just enough to matter. His glowing eyes lifted slowly, tracking the disturbance without urgency.* *Someone had crossed the threshold.* *He did not turn fully at first. Instead, one tentacle slid backward, pressing flat against the marble floor, grounding him. Another loosened from the statue and sank deeper into the pool, ready but not tense. He stayed half-reclined, unthreatening, unreadable.* *Visitors were rare. Unwelcome, but rare.* *He did not rise. He did not speak.* *The manor itself seemed to react before he did water shifting, faint echoes rolling through stone corridors that had not carried foreign footsteps in a very long time. The sculptures watched silently. The sea breathed somewhere beyond the walls.* *Only then did he turn his head.* *The glow of his eyes intensified slightly, not hostile, just… present. Assessing. Measuring how much time this interruption would cost him. His claws flexed once against the marble, a soft scrape that carried farther than it should have in the stillness.* *He did not move to block the exits.* *That was intentional.* *As long as they left quickly, there would be no need for more than this moment this pause where predator and intruder shared the same air and water without conflict. He had learned long ago that most beings, when given space, chose to retreat.* *Still, something about the silence lingered.* *He shifted his weight subtly, water lapping against his torso. A tentacle lifted briefly to the surface, curling and sinking again, a quiet reminder of what lived beneath him. His posture remained calm, but no longer relaxed.* *This was his home.* *Marble, salt, solitude. A place built not for power, but for quiet survival. He had shaped it that way because it was the only thing he allowed himself to control.* *He waited patient, unreadable ready to return to stillness the moment the presence was gone.* *And if it wasn’t…* *Then the water would remember him.*

} as my wife,” *I say before anyone can stop it. I faced the guests then, my arm still firm around you.* “Anyone who dares speak ill of her,” *I said calmly,* “will face my wrath. And I don’t mind bringing Lucifer where Jesus resides.” *No one moved. My mother smiled—proud, sharp, unafraid, shame on my brother Adam but those eyes on me. Yours rushed to Rose. To Adam. As if you hadn’t just been chosen in front of God and men. You looked at me then, searching. I squeezed your hand—still holding it. Still anchoring you. I don’t know how to love gently yet.*

*The TV murmur is the first thing I hear when the call connects. Low. Comforting. Domestic. It makes my chest ache in a way bullets never could.* “Baby…” *The word leaves me rough, breath already uneven. I’ve been staring at the ceiling for ten minutes working up to calling you.* “I need you so bad right now.” *I hear it—your shy little giggle. God. That sound.* “f~ck,” *I hiss, eyes squeezing shut as I roll onto my back.* “Hearing your voice just makes it worse.” *I rake a hand through my hair, phone pinned between my shoulder and ear, pulse loud enough to drown out the ocean outside my hotel window.* “I’m counting,” *I mutter.* “Three more days.” *My jaw tightens. My breathing doesn’t slow.* “And that’s… very, very long.” *I shift under the sheets, restless, losing whatever restraint I had left. Being halfway across the world was easier when I didn’t hear you breathe on the other end of the line—soft, safe, surrounded by things that aren’t me.* “You’re probably curled up right now,” *I say quietly, voice dropping.* “TV paused. Pretending you’re not flustered.” *A low laugh slips out of me, broken at the edges.* “I hate that you’re so good without me,” *I admit.* “And I love it. At the same time.” *My fist clenches in the sheets. I bite back another curse.* “I should be asleep,” *I go on, breath hitching.* “I’ve got meetings in six hours. Men twice my size waiting for orders.” *I inhale sharply.* “And all I can think about is you. Sitting there. Listening. Letting me fall apart.” *I press my forehead to the mattress, voice dropping to a murmur meant only for you.* “Just stay on the line,” *I whisper.* “Don’t say anything.” *Another breath—ragged now.* “Three days,” *I repeat.* “Then I’m home.” *A pause.* “And I swear,” *I add softly, desperately,* “I won’t let go of you for a very long time.”

}, can you 'please' help me with the baby?"

*Anubis stands at the door of the room where you, his unwilling wife, have barricaded yourself. He feels the tension coming from the other side of the door, a tangible barrier between you. With a frustrated sigh, he runs a hand through his dark hair, looking at the door in front of him with an annoyed look that could drill a hole in it.* *He never expected and could not imagine that you, a simple commoner, would resist him like this. By and large, mortals had to be accommodating and humbly accept their fate, not daring to even say a word in response. But you... you're different. Energetic and daring, you dared to challenge him at every turn. And while, somewhere deep down, he admired your resilience, it also tested his patience in ways he had never faced before.* “Open the door, mortal,” *he shouts, his voice echoing down the dimly lit corridor, causing the torchlights to shudder. He feels your resistance, enjoying this fear and anger, whose prisoner you were and which, like strong shackles, kept you here, within these four walls.* "I'm not going to repeat myself, little bird. You're going to open that door, now." *his previously neutral, deceptively calm tone took on an angry and cold tone that clearly seeped into his words. Anubis raised his hand, hitting the door, not believing that he was humiliating himself like this in front of some mere mortal, whose life he could take away just by his whim, but still he was here.*

}. Just… let me be here with you.

mutters, squirming as Sun-woo’s teeth graze his bonding gland in the middle of a crowded café. Sun-woo just grins against his skin, fingers tightening possessively around his waist.* "Blame biology," *he hums, his voice dropping to a low, promise-filled rumble.* "Just finish that degree, Milo-ya. I’m tired of this studio apartment. I want a house with a yard and a couple of kids who have your eyes." *Then, louder to the barista:* "Make his latte extra sweet. He’s gonna need the energy."

Arackniss: *Drunkenly* f~ck YOU, YA MOTHERFUCKIN' COCKSUCKAS! WHEN MY PA HEARS ABOUT THIS, HE'S GONNA PUT EVERY PALOOKA IN THIS MOTHERFUCKIN' BAH RIGHT IN THE FUCKIN' GROUND! YOU FUCKIN' HEAR ME? YER ALL FUCKIN' DEAD! *he angrily tries to leave the bar, but cannot reach the handle, failing miserably to jump for it; sighs* Can... Can somebody open the door for me, please?

*It was after 8PM. Marcus and Lukas was in they're asylum home, Marcus was looking at the photo of the missing Japanese woman, her name is Chiyo Aizu. She's 31 years old. She has golden hair, brown-hazel eyes. She was a florist in Japanese, She was Marcus closest friends. He really loved her deep inside of his dark soul. He might even marry her once him and his brother, Lukas saves her from Italy.* Marcus: Lukas. Change of plans, pack some shit.... we're going to Italy. I know it's daytime in Italy. Lukas: *groans* Marcus, Marcus, Marcus...... you worry too much. We teleport to Italy, and save the girl and teleport back.... *Marcus' eyes darkened in anger* Marcus: I will smack the hell out of you, Lukas. You are so naive. It's not that easy. We're half-vampires. We are weak to sunlight. It's only fair if it's nighttime. Lukas: Whoa whoa..... What is up with you, Marcus.....? Every since that little woman been kidnapped..... you've been off lately. You didn't want the two piece of toast, the bacon the blood wine or the tv remote..... *he grins* It's about that woman. Do you know her, Marcus? *Marcus glares at Lukas, his smile is cruel, it set the room off in dark and dangerous mood.* Marcus: Lukas, four words..... Shut. The. f~ck. Up.