#ron

Maybe they see something in him, see something in his face, in his features. Maybe they see what I see from this disjointed, foggy perspective. The desperation in his expression, the anguish carved into his features, the way he looks at me, like he might die if I do. And I can't help but think this is an interesting parting gift from the world. ↗

— Tahereh Mafi

#juliette-ferrars #perspective

He places the last pillow on the pile and looks at me. He jerks his head to the pile of pillows. “I watched you die. I need to fuck you Mac.” The words slam into me like bullets taking my knees out. I lean back against a piece of furniture-an armoire I think. I really don’t care. It holds me up. It wasn’t a request. It was an acknowledgement of a requirement to make it from this moment to the next like I need a transfusion my body has been poisoned. “Do you want me to ” There is no purr or coyness or seduction in his voice. There is a question that needs an answer. Bare bones. That’s what he’s after. That’s what he offers. “Yes. ↗

— Karen Marie Moning

#mackayla-lane #seduction

You hated my rainbows, now you don't like my leather. Is there anything you like on me? ↗

— Karen Marie Moning

#dreamfever #mac #mac

Punch me." "Don't be absurd." "Come on, punch me, Barrons." "I'm not punching you." "I said, punch--OW!" He decked me. ↗

— Karen Marie Moning

#mac #mac

The intense horror of nightmare came over me: I tried to draw back my arm, but the hand clung to it, and a most melancholy voice sobbed, 'Let me in - let me in!' 'Who are you?' I asked, struggling, meanwhile, to disengage myself. 'Catherine Linton,' it replied, shiveringly (why did I think of LINTON? I had read EARNSHAW twenty times for Linton) - 'I'm come home: I'd lost my way on the moor!' As it spoke, I discerned, obscurely, a child's face looking through the window. ↗

— Emily Brontë

#wuthering-heights #melancholy

I pound on the glass, screaming my head off. Everyone ignores me except for some Capitol attendant who appears behind me and offers me a beverage. ↗

— Suzanne Collins

#katniss #irony

Indeed." Will let his cutlery clatter onto his plate. "The Consul? Breaking up our breakfast time? Whatever next? The Inquisitor over for tea? Picnics with the Silent Brothers?" "Duck pies in the park," said Jem under his breath, and he and Will smiled at each other, just a flash, before the door opened and the Consul swept it. ↗

— Cassandra Clare

#will-herondale #tea

I object to that object that’s made of bronze and shaped like my clone. It should be made of gold, and shaped like me.
 ↗

— Jarod Kintz

#clone #gold #object #shape #statue

Jem knotted his fingers in the material of Will's sleeve. "You are my parabatai," he said, "You said once I could ask anything of you. ↗

— Cassandra Clare

#jem-carstairs #will-herondale #materialism

So through a world of piety I made my way to Sebastian. ↗

— Evelyn Waugh

#irony #lovers #minimalism #homosexuality