Jesus, you've got a death wish." "Right now I have a bathroom-and-sleep-somewhere safe wish, kid.

Better to be strong than pretty and useless.

Jesus, you've got a death wish." "Right now I have a bathroom-and-sleep-somewhere safe wish, kid.

People don’t really want to know anything about you. They just want you to fit into their little predetermined slots. They decide what you are in the first two seconds, and they only get nervous or upset if you don’t live up to their snap judgments.

His smell—the scent of a demon, cinnamon incense, amber musk—wrapped around me, filled my lungs. I felt like I could breathe again, without every breath being tainted by the stench of dying cells. The smell of him seemed to coat my abused insides with peace, and flow down into the middle of my body to spread through my veins. I filled my lungs again. While I could, before what was undoubtedly a hallucination vanished.

It was stealing her breath, imbecile. Go get a towel." -Christophe, Strange Angels by Lili St. Crow

I looked like a ghost. And I should know. I’ve seen a few.