paranormal

I warned you I like to play games.

Inside, a deep-rooted force raged, buried in her psyche from eons before, percolating with a primordial awakening that had been long forgotten, until now.

I__ not really sure why Ziggy puts up with me.I__ broken. Mostly because of the broken woman who spawned me. I swear, adults should have to get a license to make a kid. Prove they__e got their shit together before they bring a child into the world. My mom tried, I think. She thought she could piece herself into something resembling a mother by dropping the drugs and dropping the need to feed her overblown selfish streak. But she failed.

And to do something that helps your coven survive, even after your own death, is the greatest gift you can possibly give them_--Angela from Angela__ Coven

Down every hall is a gruesome tangle of impossible creatures, and every one of them is split open or strung with barbs or dragging their insides after them, flailing along on shattered limbs or shredded wings or blasted stumps. I__e got the pistol, half a can of spray and a handful of useless shotgun slugs.I__ dead.

You want me to join your group of demon hunters," I can__ believe I just said that out loud, "because of a can of pepper spray and a boat load of luck? You__e insane.

Most people create a destiny of minutiae, of the mundane. They create their own limitations. When the moment comes for them to stretch and leap, they find themselves boxed in, locked down by their own fears.

We fight monsters and unholy creatures for a living here. Grotesque, evil, violent, dangerous; they__e certainly all these things. And yet, we somehow manage to go to sleep each night and wake up each morning. The terror wears off. What was horrific becomes mundane. We lose ourselves to a numbed normalcy after a while, a self-inflicted detachment. You forget how you got here, what it was like before. And then someone comes along, someone new, someone who sees it all with fresh eyes, and it snaps you out of your daily coma, reminding you of what you__e forgotten. Of what you__e become.

Demons exist,' he says simply, as if talking about the weather. 'They are real and they are dangerous. We hunt them when necessary and return them when we can.

From DW:I got it. __ere's the thing,_ I said. "I'm not going to be the government's bitch.

Nice shack

Walking out into the night with a water fey was all kinds of stupid. Heck, Kelpies eat people. They may not play with their food as creatively as the Each Uisge, but dead is dead.

... They paid some madman who thought he was a decorator a lot of money to make the place look hip and unique. May be it's my lack of fashion sense talking, but I thought they should have held out for one of those gorillas who has learned to paint. The results would have been of similar quality, and they could have paid in fresh produce.- Harry Dresden, Small Favor, Jim Butcher

She did not want to know what charmhe had used to make her love him so deeply. She did not want to know it wasn__ real.

Even apocalypse looks less dire when viewed over a plate of bacon.

Do you really think you can win?''Yeah. Hell, Ortega is only the third or fourth most disturbing thing I've tangled with today.''But even if you do win, what does it change?''Me getting kiilled now. That way, I get to be killed later tonight instead.'- Susan Rodriguez & Harry Dresden, Death Masks, Jim Butcher

The last declaration he'd made to me hung between us. The L word. The one that had nothing to do with like.

Emma was doing something nice for Simon? Hell must be enjoying the snow day.