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No Time To Die Billie Eilish Traduction

Die Passion des Herzogs

(HAUPTGESCHICHTE ABGESCHLOSSEN) Im Königreich des Herzens, einem Reich, in dem Vampire herrschen und Menschen nichts weiter als Vieh sind, wurde Lilou, eine Bäuerin, von dem schlimmsten wahnsinnigen Vampir seiner Art gejagt. Doch so furchtbar, wie er sie als seine "reservierte Mahlzeit" bezeichnete, nannte dieser Vampir sie auch seine Braut! Außer: Meine Augen blicken voller Angst auf das noch immer schlagende Herz in seiner Hand. "Mein Herr, verzeiht mir, aber ... ist das der verdammte Beweis, den Ihr mir zu zeigen versprochen habt?" fragte ich mit zittriger Stimme, während ich mit zitternden Knien dagegen ankämpfte, aufzugeben. "Mhm ... glaubt Ihr jetzt, dass ich gut darin bin, Herzen zu erobern?" Der silberhaarige Mann mit den bedrohlichen tiefroten Augen starrte mich nach einem Nicken stolz an. Ich schnappte nach Luft, als er seine Hand zu einer Faust ballte und das frische Herz zerdrückte. "Ja, Mylord. Ihr seid gut darin, buchstäblich." Beschämt sah ich zu, wie die Teile des Herzens fielen, als er sich näherte. Bei jedem seiner Schritte wich ich einen Schritt zurück, bis ich mit dem Rücken an einer festen Säule stand. "Hm", kicherte Samael kurz und blieb vor mir stehen. Seine langen, spitzen Nägel, die mit Blut bedeckt waren, zeichneten meinen Ellbogen bis hinunter zu meiner Hand nach. Sanft klemmte er meinen Zeigefinger zwischen seine und führte ihn vor seine Lippen. "Aber habe ich deinen Test bestanden?" fragte er, während die scharfe Spitze seines Nagels über die Spitze meines Fingers strich. Ich starrte in seinen durchdringenden Blick, als ich zögernd antwortete: "Gerade so." Er grinste und nickte zufrieden, bevor er seinen Nagel auf die Spitze meines Zeigefingers drückte, aus der sich schnell ein Blutstropfen bildete. "So ein süßes Aroma." flüsterte er, nahm meinen blutenden Finger in den Mund und leckte ihn leidenschaftlich ab. Sein bedrohlicher Blick verließ meinen nicht, während er ein wenig von meinem Blut verzehrte. "Heißt das, du nimmst meine Einladung an?" Samael hielt meinen Finger zwischen seinen Reißzähnen und erkundigte sich. Ich biss mir unbewusst auf die Unterlippe, mein Herz in der Brust trommelte, während mir der Schweiß den Rücken hinunterlief. "Aber ... ich bin nur ..." Ich hielt inne und hoffte, dass meine Antwort dem Ganzen ein Ende setzen würde. "... ich bin nur ein Mensch." Samael schnalzte mit der Zunge, verärgert über meine Antwort, als er meinen Finger losließ. "Nein", flüsterte er. Mein ganzer Körper versteifte sich, als er sich vorbeugte und mit der Nasenspitze meine Schulter bis zu meinem Hals streichelte, während sein heißer Atem meine Haut kitzelte. "Du bist nicht einfach nur ein Mensch ... du bist mein Mensch." betonte er, bevor ich spürte, wie sich seine Lippen teilten und die Spitze seiner Reißzähne meine Haut berührte. Cover nicht meins. *** Original Story von: alienfrommars FOLLOW ME ON INSTAGRAM für originelle Charaktere: @authoralienfrommars Discord-Server: https://discord.gg/tbS4rKec3e
alienfrommars · 47.2K Views

The cursed fae prince;Fated to die

Zeriel is a powerful CEO, a multi-billionaire known for his cold and ruthless demeanor, a man who has everything,except a heart open to love. To the world, he’s a shrewd businessman with no tolerance for weakness or attachment, but in truth, Zeriel hides a far darker secret. He is not human, but a hybrid of two fae lineages: one dark, one light. Born with ethereal wings and supernatural powers, he’s spent his life concealing his true identity, blending seamlessly into the human world. But Zeriel’s existence is shadowed by a curse: he is destined to die at thirty, a fate decreed at birth for being an “abomination” in the eyes of his people. To escape this grim destiny, Zeriel fled the fae realm and made a life among humans, focused solely on finding a way to break the curse. Love is not only unimportant to him; he believes it is a weakness, a trap for the foolhardy. Until he meets her: a human woman whose spirit challenges and infuriates him in equal measure. He despises her fiery resilience, her ability to see through his hardened exterior—but he is helplessly drawn to her, feeling emotions that had long ago turned to dust within him. As he battles his growing feelings, Zeriel is thrust into a dilemma. If he opens his heart to love, will he weaken himself and risk his only chance at survival? Or could this forbidden love hold the key to saving his life, transforming him into something his people could never imagine? Join Zeriel on a perilous journey where dark secrets unravel, battles are waged in both realms, and one love could alter the fate of two worlds. Will he defy his curse, or will his heart betray him when he needs it most?
Seaquin · 45.4K Views

To Sleep In The Sea Of Time

This is a story of a guy who loses everything, and then gets it back. Same old new world story, just a different kind of story teller. *** They took away our hunter tags. They had us grow our hair. They gave us a new brand, when we were over there. They staged us out of Dragur, East of the Olim Horn. I guess they call us Slaves, but no one calls us much anymore. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. Karn brought Sorrow. Pookie brought Fear. Milk brought the fly boys. They did work in Undia. I worked mostly clandestine. Some Legends I should not say. We played with better wands. I could use the extra pay. Did Mara give the order? Did venom pay the way? They said we were slaying demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. This was before HALO, and Codex was king. Hej atop the rider, he never felt a thing. When our rider caught a spell, and both the mages killed. It pitched us over sideways on some cold Sylph hill. My back felt like it was broken, my legs I could not feel. I kept on slaying demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. I never did heal up right from injuries sustained Officially in Torin, unofficially we train. I remember all their faces. They dream about me still. I guess I'm slaying demons, but it's kind of hard to tell. There no fun in killing. I don't want to do it anymore. I speak the cold logistic, that old boys speak so well. Veni, Vedi, Vici. I'll see you in Hel. Maybe it's bravado, or an unspeakable guilt. That village, they were demons, but it was kind of hard to tell. There is no fun in killing. I don't wanna to do it anymore. I've done plenty. What is one more? -Corb Lund *** Come guess me this riddle. What beats shire leaves and fiddle? What is hotter than pleasures touch, and whiter than cream? What best wets his whistle? What is clearer than crystal? What is sweeter than honey and stronger than steam? What will make the lame walk? What will make the dumb talk? What is the elixir of life and philosopher's stone? And what helped Pookie-Baba dig up a tunnel, that runs from Shalamanda to West-Torin? When you are digging a crater, It is the best thing in nature, for sinking your sorrows and raising your joys. Sometimes I wonder, if lightning and thunder, is made out of the plunder, of the reddest hiski and oils. *** If you can keep your head when all about you, are losing theirs and blaming it on you. If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, but make allowance for their doubting too. If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, or being lied about, don’t deal in lies, or being hated, don’t give way to hating, And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise. If you can dream, and not make dreams your master. If you can think, and not make thoughts your aim. If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster, and treat those two impostors just the same. If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken, twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, and stoop and build them up with worn-out tools. If you can make one heap of all your winnings, and risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss and lose, and start again at your beginnings, and never breathe a word about your loss. If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew, to serve your turn long after they are gone, and so hold on when there is nothing in you; Except the Will which says to them ‘Hold on!’ If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, nor walk with Kings, nor lose the common touch. If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you. If all men count with you, but none too much. If you can fill the unforgiving minute, with sixty seconds worth of distance, run. Yours is the World and everything that’s in it, and which is more you’ll be a Man, my son. - Rudyard Kipling
man_of_culture3030 · 680.9K Views
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