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What if the house catches fire?” “Roast marshmallows. And if it floods, you’ll go down with the ship. If there’s a tornado, I’ll meet both you and this house in Oz, after my shift. Got it?

Rachel Vincent

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Rachel Vincent
Catches
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Some day soon, reaper, your mouth is going to be the source of your own destruction. That does seem likely, doesn’t it? Tod glanced at me and shrugged. Until then, it remains a source of my own amusement.
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The moment the door opened I knew an ass-kicking was inevitable. Whether I'd be giving it or receiving it was still a bit of a mystery.
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Justice is for the victim.” Kick. “Vengeance is for the survivor.
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What could thunderbirds want with us? I wondered aloud [...] We'll find out when Big Bird wakes up, Marc said. My father shook his head. We'll find out now. Wake him up and make him sing.
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You already said that, Sabine said, folding the wrapper back from her burger. You said it a lot, actually. Which supports my theory that apologies are basically pointless. They don't fix anything, right? That's why I rarely bother.
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He took both of my hands, twisting to face me more fully on the flattened box beneath us, and again the colors in his irises seemed to pulse with my heartbeat.
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I’m confiscating your hair dryer—you’ve fried your brain.
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Some things are private. Some things needed to be said, even when the person who needed to hear them couldn’t hear anything. Ever again.
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I've seen this episode. This is the one where Sylvester eats Tweety.
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She watched me with a creepy sort of detached curiosity, as if I were a bug crawling across the sidewalk in front of her. I wondered briefly if she was the ant stomper type.
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Even before the withdrawal sets in, you'll do anything to get that feeling back, because as long as it lasts, nothing's wrong. It doesn't matter if you forget something, or lose something. Or if you fail someone. Nothing's wrong and everything feels good, and you never want it to end.
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He sank into that kiss, and fed from me like a starving man holding off famine. I drank from his soul in preparation for the drought to come. And when he finally pulled away, my throat was thick with unspoken words, my heart heavy with every apology I'd ever denied him. But it was too late for promises. The time had come for goodbye.
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... you just turned down the woman who put a marshmallow duck in your hot chocolate. I hope you feel like a real asshole now.
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When he finally stopped calling, the hush felt strange. It felt like the whole world went silent when Marc did, as if I could see peoples mouths moving, but I couldnt hear what they were saying. Like I'd gone deaf.
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You should be careful, tossing descriptors like that around in a situation like this. My ‘problem’ isn’t little. Unless you’re drawing some pretty wild comparisons. Please tell me you’re not drawing wild comparisons. Or blood-relative comparisons.
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My aunt and overprivileged cousin only recognize two states of being: glitter and grunge. And if you weren’t glitter, well, that only left one other option.
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I liked that about her. I liked how laid back she was, when she wasn’t trying to stab me.
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