Melanie Holzer > Recent Status Updates

holy hell!! the entire oath-taking ceremony!

these talons are sooo hot!

‘you can’t keep running from yourself,’ the other girl whispered, voice fading. ‘no matter what choice you end up making. no matter where you go - you will always be there.’

.. from the moment he had first laid eyes on her, he’d known beyond a doubt, that wren loughty would become the immovable force that would redirect the trajectory of his life forever.

chapter 38
weston: if i could build you a boyfriend at build a bear it would be ford grant

i could only imagine that the great hendrix was resting his massive head on plush pillows of his own. no doubt maintaining such an alarmingly over-inflated ego was hard work and he’d exhausted himself in hauling it around so much at dinner that he would sleep on for hours.

… the stains of my childhood in each corner and crevice.

i didn’t grace her with any words, just turned on my heel and ran as far as i could. you know in a totally dignified, royal way.

all i knew was that my body pressed into hers like she was the cure for my terminal illness and the only way to administer the drug was to be inside her.

he leaned over and brushed his lips against mine.
oh.god.
holy.shitballs.on.a.cracker. pussy down. pussy down!

he never did deserve you. besides, you can’t be in a relationship where you have to direct the other person on basics. imagine that in bed. ‘to the left, to the left!’ sex is not a beyonce song. unless it’s ‘drunk in love’. that’s different.

i smiled a sad smile.
what good would waltzing do me if i have no husband to dance with?

i stared at the man across the table and realized that i was falling in love with him. as with every fall, once you lost your balance, crashing was a matter of when, not if.

the women who raised me had a very specific idea for what constituted a good woman.
a good woman dressed modestly, spoke quietly, and didn’t hold a job.

i want to touch you, taste you, memorize your soul…

‘i’m not sure what type of man you are,’ i say honestly. ‘for all i know, you’re a cannibalistic monster who collects toenail clippings in an enchanted jar.’

every time i start to think that bastard might have a heart, he proves me wrong.

‘did the one brain cell you were born with die of loneliness?’

‘i wish you could hear how hard i’m rolling my eyes right now.’

i don’t know what kind of drug this man uses as a mouthwash, but it’s powerful. the moment our lips touch, my logical brain blinks offline in a sudden fir of narcolepsy, and all my nerve endings wake up and burst into flames.

if there were a best in show for penises, his would win.

he muses, ‘do you think it’s fate that we keep meeting this way?’
‘no, i think i did something terrible in a past life, and you’re the punishment. please go back to your own table.’

after a hot, lingering glance at my mouth, ronan turns abruptly and walks off into the night, his stride long and sure. he doesn’t look back.
i’ll never forgive myself for wishing he would.

esme responds with scathing contempt. ‘i see you’re getting dementia in your old age. not surprising, considering you were never really very bright to begin with.’

‘viola sinclair, there is nothing wrong with you,’ he says. ‘i know your darkness. from the moment i saw it, i couldn’t get enough of it. i wanted to wrap myself in it. get drunk on it every night.’

… you and i are alone here together.

i shove away from the table and snarl at him, ‘i don’t need to ask why your family hates you. you’re as lovable as a plague.’
i storm away, hearing him chuckle behind me. ‘darling, i am the plague.’

sinclair, every day of my life, you’ve been like… like an affliction, my own personal pestilence.

i was left with this gut-wrenching feeling that i was the reason for his absence, and there, on the sidewalk, beneath the scorching sunlight, i felt my soul rip and pour into the cement, hemorrhaging silently, perpetually, disturbingly into every crack.

and if i were to perish before my time, let it be because i’d drowned in her.