Adam Parrish and Richard Gansey
“If Adam was stupid about his pride, Gansey was stupid about Adam.”
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read in 2023: to kill a kingdom by alexandra christo
I’ve made a mistake. It started with a prince, as most stories do. Once I felt the thrum of his heart beneath my fingers, I couldn’t forget it.
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get to know me ♡︎ books -> the love hypothesis by ali hazelwood
I'm starting to wonder if this is what being in love is. Being okay with ripping yourself to shreds, so the other person can stay whole.
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That night, the Gray Man dreamt of being stabbed.
At first he felt each individual wound. Particularly that first one. He was unbroken and entire, and then that wholeness was stolen by that thief, the knife. So that piercing was the worst. A half inch above his left collarbone, pinning him to the ground for half a breath. Then, again, but closer to the knob of his shoulder, glancing off his collarbone. And then two inches below his belly button. The word gut was a verb and a noun. Another cut and another cut. Slippery.
Then the Gray Man was the assailant. The hilt of the knife was ridged and permanent in his hand. He’d been stabbing this piece of meat for a lifetime. He’d been born when it started and he’d die when he was done. It was the bite that kept him alive: the moment the blade parted a new inch of skin. The resistance and then nothing. Catch and release.
Then the Gray Man was the knife. He was a blade in the air, gasping, and then he was a weapon inside, holding his breath. He was voracious, chewing, never satisfied. Hunger was a species, and he was the best of that kind.
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read in 2023: an enchantment of ravens by margaret rogerson
You are like a living rose among wax flowers. We may last forever, but you bloom brighter and smell sweeter, and draw blood with your thorns.
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