Want some ice cream?"
His head bumped the frame. "Ouch! What?" His voice was back to normal. He turned around. "Don't offer me ice cream. I just broke into your room and threatened you.
Tags: tristan demons-at-deadnight
Kindly permit me to tell you, sir, that I hate you. I hate you and your child, as I hate the life of which you are the representative: cheap, ridiculous, but yet triumphant life, the everlasting antipodes and deadly enemy of beauty. I cannot say I despise you - for I am honest. You are stronger than I. I have no armour for the struggle between us, I have only the Word, avenging weapon of the weak. Today I have availed myself of this weapon. This letter is nothing but an act of revenge - you see how honourable I am - and if any word of mine is sharp and bright and beautiful enough to strike home, to make you feel the presence of a power you do not know, to shake even a minute your robust equilibrium, I shall rejoice indeed. -
Thomas MannTags: life writing beauty revenge tristan the-word
How could two people seem so perfect together, be so happy together, an yet be so wrong in so many others' eyes?
Melissa DarnellI want you so badly that I'd do just about anything to have you," he said roughly. "The only thing I won't do though, is risk losing you. Can you promise me that if we do this, I won't lose you?
R.K. LilleyTags: tristan
You feel so good sweetheart. I swear nothing's ever felt better in my whole fucking life.
R.K. LilleyTags: tristan
If you can't be civil to my girlfriend you can fucking walk away.
R.K. LilleyTags: tristan
I’m not immortal. I’m totally killable.” She sucked in a breath as her pitch rose. “And I’m blond. Blonds always die first.
Chelsea FineTags: tristan knife gabriel rogue heather scarlet bloody-weapons
Tristan pulled a dagger from his coat— because, apparently, Tristan carted bloody weapons around in his coat—
Chelsea FineWha—what was that?” Heather lifted a brow. “What was that 'hey bro, make sure the blond chick doesn’t cut any body parts off' look? Because I’ll have you know, I’m an expert with butcher knives.”
Tristan pointed at the weapon in Heather’s hand. “That’s a machete.”
Puckering her lips, Heather looked at the blade. “Aren’t they the same thing?”
“I’m going to pretend like you didn’t just say that. Everybody ready?
Well, boo, how does bacon sound?”
“Bacon sounds great, but you can’t call me boo.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re not a rapper, and I’m not your shorty.
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