“I’ve only ever loved one girl, Tru – and that’s you. It’s always been you. I loved you from the moment I knew how to love.”
“God, he’s such a cocky, arrogant bastard at times.
And I totally fancy him.
No I don’t.
Yes, I do.
No. I. Don’t.
Ah fuck.”
“I’ll never be good enough for you, I know that. But I’m no good without you, and if that makes me a selfish bastard for wanting you as badly as I do then so be it because I can’t live a life that doesn’t have you in it.”
“You’re not just any girl. You’re my girl.”
“I loved you from the moment I knew how to love.”
“i wear my scars, they don't wear me.”
“And that’s why I prefer to dance in the bedroom.”
“Trudy Bennett, I love you beyond any lyrics I could ever write, or any words I could ever say. I always have, and I always will. Marry me?”
“I'm independent and strong, but sometimes...just sometimes, it's nice to be taken case of. It's nice to be made to feel like a lady”
“He touches my face, his thumb smoothing over my lips. "You're my June, Tru.”
“You ask what I want from you?” His eyes move to my lips, then my eyes. “I want you, Tru. I just want you. All day, every day.”
“He leans back and stares down at me, and then I suddenly see it there in his eyes, unconcealed. The lust. The want. He wants me. He’s trying to seduce me. I’m so completely fucked.”
“Birthday present number three,” he murmurs, brushing my hair back off my face.
“I’m still yet to get you anything.”
“I got all my twelve the moment you agreed to be mine.”
“What are you thinking about?” I ask.
“You. Then, and now. How beautiful you
were back then, and how even more beautiful you are now. How I wish I’d seen you through all those years, and how I’m counting myself as one lucky bastard that I got a second chance to have you in my life … and that you’re crazy enough to be mine.”
“He looks up at my approach and the second my eyes meet with his, whatever sense I had just talked myself into, packs its bags and fucks off, leaving me to the mercy of my hormones.”
“Please don’t go. Just stay, talk to me, we can work this out. I know we can. I would never cheat on you – I swear to you. Just believe me, please. I love you so much. You’re the only person I’ve ever loved. And I know I’ve screwed up with the drugs, but I would never cheat on you. You’re my best friend. You’re my everything.”
“Holding my face with his hands, fingers buried deep in my hair, he stares down at me in the darkness.
“It’s always been you, Tru. Always.”
“I love that it’s our thing … so do you want me to put them back on so you can rip them off?”
“And I love you, my little storm.”
“...I’m not going anywhere. Remember, I promised. I’m yours now, forever.”
“He stares at me steadily, for a long moment before looking away, but I read his eyes clearly. He wants me tonight. And from what my eyes were saying back to him, I think I just said yes.”
“I don't remember looking like this in the mirror this morning. Obviously, I still had my 'Tru looks awesome in anything' margarita goggles still on.”
“Jake once said on stage that Jonny was the mighty in their storm, and now I see that Jake is my mighty storm. He’s broken and complex, and no one knows him like I do, or ever will. He needs me. He’s my storm to calm. And I’m going to spend the rest of my life doing just that.”
“You're it for me. I want to be with you forever. I want you to be mine.”
“Remember honey, he's a man, and with men you just have to treat them like the children they are”
“Fuck," he groans. "This is.... Tru... you feel... fuccckk.”
“You’re not just any girl. You’re my girl.”
“Never a right time, honey, I know. There never is when it comes to breaking someone's heart”
“Here she is, Tru who wants to pick a fight with Jake. I was wondering when she'd show up. Apparently, at 6 a.m. in a hotel restaurant.”
“I hesitated. You can’t hesitate with a man like Jake.”
“It is of course true that the human creature characteristically prides itself on its self-reliance. However, it would be more exact to say that the creature, knowing it can't rely upon itself, would very much like to believe that it could and is consequently never at ease with itself until it can give a practical demonstration to some other such creature of how much it can rely upon itself.”
“And Willowkit.” Crookedstar stroked the smoky black kit. “I want her to have your name.”
“Ben kendimi duaların buyruğuna sokmam hiçbir zaman. Dualar insan için yapılmıştır, insan dualar için değil."
syf:186”
“Even with nothing kinky involved, sex with him would not merely be physical, it would be an act of sheer possession and power.”
“Unlike the rain-slicked streets of Oblakgrad, Dírorth was a stir of activity. The streets were lined with vendors selling greasy meat pies to passersby. The clogging crowd of Humans cramped together as they pushed past one another, rushing from one errand to the next. The shouting of a thousand voices melted together into a perpetual buzz, like a great swarm of bees hovering over the street.
And yet a strange silence hung over the city. It filled in the background, inhabiting dark corners where the din of the crowd could not squelch it. It had a strange omnipresence, like something that you are subconsciously aware of, but do not consciously see with your eyes.
It was a silence ignored, hidden by the façade of hectic traffic. You wouldn’t really notice it, not unless you were looking for it. Not unless you actually stopped to listen.
If the city folk had stopped, frozen, if they had stilled themselves for a moment, the silence would have gaped wide open like a dark, hungry maw. But they ignored it. For the past century, they had covered that silence with the commotion of everyday life, refusing to let it control them. To define them. They did not hear it. They would not hear it.
I myself did not hear it for years and years, not until the day that I actually stopped to listen.
Can you hear it, now? Can you hear it in the words your reading, the words I say to you? Listen. Hear its empty resonance across the cobbles. Feel it in the dust beneath Notak’s boot, damp with last night’s rain. Smell it on the ragged clothes of the peasants, hidden in the folds of dirty fabric. See it in their eyes, latent beneath the gloss of the everyday. Taste it in the clamor of the streets, clamor born out of a unconscious urge to fill the quiet with something, anything to drive it away, anything to stave off the silence that reeked with defeat.
It was the echo of a hundred years of slavery. It was the song of a people, waiting for God.”
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