Lilamedusa > Recent Status Updates

The sad part is a string warrior like her would never pray to Hera.

If her goal was to write a very erotic non erotic scene, then she succeeded.

Its impossible for me to ship anyone with this Phillip asshole. I can't imagine how Quinn can fix this useless ogre of a man.

If she did kill him, he probably deserved it.

I'm so glad that instead of dragging the drama, they just talked.

"Witches , the townsfolk whispered, husbands wide-eyed and disbelieving as the women took to the skies, red cloaks billowing. Witches amongst us all this time.
Village to village, where hearths that had never once gone fully dark blazed in answer. Always one rider going out, to find the next hearth, the next bastion of their people.
Witches, here amongst us . Witches, now going to war."

Okay, that sounds badass.

I don't have words to express how dull the torture is to me. It feels so gratuitous and stupid.

If I have to read Schorscha's name once again I swear I'll hit something.

I could care less about Sorscha, the most insipid of insipid fridged female characters. Please stop bringing her up already.

I need Rowan and Celaena/Aelin/Elentiya to stay friends and nothing more.

Ugh, I hate the Ayahuasca crew. Please go hear a Sabrina Carpenter song.

I'll never listen to Purple rain the same way again.

.I’m lonely but I’m writing songs for my first album, and songs are a lonely person’s occupation; songs are ghosts. When my album comes out I’ll become a traveling “ghost delivery woman.” There’ll be a lifetime of goodbyes. I can’t have a problem with that.

De Henry James siempre me sorprende que un caballero en el siglo XIX le dé más humanidad a sus personajes femeninos que muchos autores modernos.

“In the future . . . if by some miracle you ever find yourself in the position to fall in love again . . . fall in love with me.” He presses his lips against my forehead. “You’re still

Never mind, I know how now. Gross.

How can the person who wrote this be homophobic trash? It makes no sense to me.

Estoy absolutamente adorando este libro.

Can someone please give this poor girl a break?

Me fui convenciendo de que había algo de falsedad ahí, ganas de ser especial, de creerse único e inigualable, de saberse dueño de una cabeza mejor que la de los demás. Era el mismo impulso que el de la lectura obsesiva y su regurgitación en momentos inapropiados. «Mira qué culto, mira qué brillante». En estos tiempos de «sigue tus sueños» y «uno es lo que uno hace», hay que ser especial. A mí no me urge ser especial.

Me encantaría encontrar la pistola debajo de la cama, esa que los policías encuentran en los programas de televisión, con la que corren hacia el tribunal, ondeándola entre sus manos, la prueba física de su epifanía. «¡Aquí está, damas y caballeros! La prueba de que Emiliano y María se dejaron de querer el día 3 de septiembre a las 11 a. m., hora del centro, por esta Cosa Terrible que les pasó». No hay pistola. No hay