Creepy Love Quotes

We've searched our database for all the quotes and captions related to Creepy Love. Here they are! All 100 of them:

There are only two reasons a non-seer would see a spirit on St. Mark's Eve," Neeve said. "Either you're his true love . . . or you killed him.
Maggie Stiefvater (The Raven Boys (The Raven Cycle, #1))
First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches. May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty. When the Crystal Meth is offered, May she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half And stick with Beer. Guide her, protect her When crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age. Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels. What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit. May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers. Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen. Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short – a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day – And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait. O Lord, break the Internet forever, That she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed. And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it. And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back. “My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.
Tina Fey (Bossypants)
But the fucked-up part is once you start self-harming, you can never not be a creepy freak, because your whole body is now a scarred and charred battlefield and nobody likes that on a girl, nobody will love that, and so all of us, every one, is screwed, inside and out. Wash, rinse, fucking repeat.
Kathleen Glasgow (Girl in Pieces)
I start to wonder if I’m being creepy. I mean, I am creeping. Does creep-ing automatically make one creep-y? Or are there dispensations for…romance? I bet all stalkers believe they’re being romantic. I did it for love, officer.
Laini Taylor (Night of Cake & Puppets (Daughter of Smoke & Bone, #1.5))
Do you have any idea how creepy that is, that you were in love with my mother and you're so....all over me?
Lili St. Crow (Jealousy (Strange Angels, #3))
Sometimes love isn’t pretty. It’s not neat, and it’s not textbook perfect. There’s no template for love. Sometimes it’s dirty. Sometimes it’s a bit creepy. And sometimes it hurts.
Alessandra Hazard (Just a Bit Obsessed (Straight Guys #2))
EVERY DOG’S STORY I have a bed, my very own. It’s just my size. And sometimes I like to sleep alone with dreams inside my eyes. But sometimes dreams are dark and wild and creepy and I wake and am afraid, though I don’t know why. But I’m no longer sleepy and too slowly the hours go by. So I climb on the bed where the light of the moon is shining on your face and I know it will be morning soon. Everybody needs a safe place.
Mary Oliver (Dog Songs: Poems)
I love you.' 'Yeah, well...' 'You make my heart want to beat.' 'That's nice and creepy. But I'm with Fletcher.(...) Also, these proclamations of your undying love for me are getting kind of... it's a bit much to be honest. Just hold back a little.' 'But my love for you is eternal.' 'That's exactly the kind of thing I'm talking about.
Derek Landy (Death Bringer (Skulduggery Pleasant, #6))
I don't know if you realize it or not, but your sudden devotion to her is creepy.
Melissa Marr (Fragile Eternity (Wicked Lovely, #3))
I’m only doing this,” he said, “because I really love hiding in haunted Eldren buildings on dark and creepy nights.” “You’re a liar,” said Jean, slowly. “I’m only doing this because I’ve always wanted to see Bug get eaten by an Eldren ghost.” “Liar,” said Calo. “I’m only doing this because I fucking love hauling half a ton of bloody coins up out of a vault and packing them away on a cart.” “Liar!” Galdo chuckled. “I’m only doing this because while you’re all busy elsewhere, I’m going to go pawn all the furniture in the burrow at No-Hope Harza’s.” “You’re all liars,” said Locke as their eyes turned expectantly to him. “We’re only doing this because nobody else in Camorr is good enough to pull this off, and nobody else is dumb enough to get stuck doing it in the first place.” “Bastard!” They shouted in unison, forgetting their surroundings for a bare moment.
Scott Lynch (The Lies of Locke Lamora (Gentleman Bastard, #1))
He stepped to her again, laid his lips on her brow. "But I want children with you, my lovely Eve. One day." "One day being far, far in the future. Like, I don't know, say a decade when...Hold on. Children is plural." He eased back, grinned. "Why, so it is--nothing slips by my canny cop." "You really think if I ever actually let you plant something in me--they're like aliens in there, growing little hands and feet." She shuddered. "Creepy. If I ever did that, popped a kid out--which I think is probably as pleasant a process as having your eyeballs pierced by burning, poisonous sticks, I'd say, 'Whoopee, let's do this again?' Have you recently suffered head trauma?" "Not to my knowledge." "Could be coming. Any second.
J.D. Robb (Survivor In Death (In Death, #20))
…sitting on the sidewalk outside of his workplace like some creepy stalker ex-girlfriend, waiting for him to come out so I can ambush him with love.
Cynthia Hand (Unearthly (Unearthly, #1))
That's good," Hunter said, panting. "Keep grinning at your attacker like that and they'll think you're way creepy. And mental." I grinned wider. "I totally love this. Who can I punch next?
Alyxandra Harvey (Bleeding Hearts (Drake Chronicles, #4))
I changed your life.” She looked down at the peach they shared. “You changed min. I’m glad of it.” And back into his eyes. “Every day. I’m glad of it. I’d like a pond, and maybe something to sit on so we could watch the creepy, interesting fish.” “That would suit me very well.” She linked her arms around his neck, laid her cheek on his. Love finds a way, she thought.
J.D. Robb (Treachery in Death (In Death, #32))
When we mated I felt your heart stop beating and it was as if the world had stopped turning. It was only while surrounded by death that I realized I had never felt more alive.
Nenia Campbell (Terrorscape (Horrorscape, #3))
There's this book," Jared said. "And in this book a guy said that he would rather touch someones hand if she was dead than another girl who was alive. It's creepy. I know that." He was staring off into space, as if at some private nightmare. "Nothing matters in comparison. Nobody is real but her. So it feels sometimes as if nothing else matters at all, including other people. She wouldn't like that. Other people SHOULD matter." *** So he loved Kami.
Sarah Rees Brennan (Untold (The Lynburn Legacy, #2))
We straighten , bu our snickering is barely contained as we attempt to focus our attention on a picture of a discarded Coke can. "This guy's lady love is kind of a slob, don't you think?" he whispers. I cover my mouth with my hands again. "A reaaaaaaaal litterbug." "Stop it," I hiss. My eyes are watering. "Ohmygod look at this one! How did he get her toenail clippings?" "If you were my girl," he whispers, "I'd take creepy pictures of your trash when I knew you weren't looking." "If you were my girl," I whisper back," I"d put the creepy pictures in a foreign museum so you wouldn't know that I take creepy pictures.
Stephanie Perkins (Isla and the Happily Ever After (Anna and the French Kiss, #3))
Love is awful. It’s awful. It’s painful. It’s frightening. It makes you doubt yourself, judge yourself, distance yourself from the other people in your life. Makes you selfish. Makes you creepy. It makes you obsessed with your hair. Makes you cruel. Makes you say and do things you never thought you would do. It’s all any of us want, and it’s hell when we get there. So no wonder it’s something we don’t want to do on our own. I was taught if we’re born with love, then life is about choosing the right place to put it. People talk about that a lot. It 'feeling right'. 'When it feels right, it’s easy.' But I’m not sure that’s true. It takes strength to know what’s right. And love isn’t something that weak people do. Being a romantic takes a hell of a lot of hope. I think what they mean is... When you find somebody that you love... it feels like hope.
Phoebe Waller-Bridge (Fleabag: The Scriptures)
-“Say no more,” Leif interrupted. “I understand. I will simply have to kill them all myself.” -"There he goes again. I’m telling you, Danny Elfman would love to get hold of those lines." -"Not John Williams?" -"If you’ve got some hopelessly overmatched heroes fighting evil and some Imperial types marching, John Williams is your guy. You need a song to make people reach for a box of Kleenex, talk to Randy Newman. But if you want creepy atmospherics and spine-shivering chords to back up your casual death threats, you gotta bring in Danny Elfman.
Kevin Hearne (Hammered (The Iron Druid Chronicles, #3))
I don't know if you've ever had a crush on somebody that bad, but Hades became obsessed. He kept sketches of Persephone in his pocket. He carved her name on his obsidian table with a knife-which took a lot of work. He dreamed about her and had imaginary conversations with her where he admitted his love and she confessed that she had always had a thing for creepy older guys who lived in caves full of dead people.
Rick Riordan (Percy Jackson's Greek Gods)
- He's arrogant, and he sleeps with everything he can get his filthy hands on. Most of time, I just want to claw his creepy eyes out. How could I like him? He's a jackass. - And girls love jackasses. That's why I can't get a date. I'm too damn nice.
Kody Keplinger (The DUFF: Designated Ugly Fat Friend (Hamilton High, #1))
Falling in love IS bizarre and creepy
Tammy Blackwell (Fate Succumbs (Timber Wolves Trilogy, #3))
That's sexist crap. When a guy goes through obstacles to get a girl, it's considered 'romantic.' Think climbing through a girl's window unannounced to watch her sleep. However, when it's a girl making dramatic gestures for a guy, it's creepy. Double-standard bullshit!
Maurene Goo (I Believe in a Thing Called Love)
I turned to him and he reached for my hand. It would have been easier to walk away. But the wind still blew around us and the house still stood.
Kate Chisman (Creep)
Is what I'm doing creepy? Maybe. Do I care? I'm not a known giver of fucks. No.
Belle Aurora (Love Thy Neighbour (Friend-Zoned, #2))
He's been in love with Miss Gina since high school, but he doesn't really know how to talk to girls, so he's just been...staying around her since then. He just tends to go where she goes." "Isn't that stalking?" Jazza said. "Legally, no," I replied. "I asked my parents this when I was little. What he does is creepy and socially awkward, but it's not actually stalking.
Maureen Johnson (The Name of the Star (Shades of London, #1))
The impulse came to her clairvoyantly, and she obeyed without a sign of hesitation. Deeper comprehension would come to her of the whole awful puzzle. And come it did, yet not in the way she imagined and expected.
Algernon Blackwood (The Man Whom the Trees Loved)
You and I,” she said slowly, saying each word with care, “are a pair of scissors.” “A pair of scissors…” I replied, unsure of what she meant. “Alone, we’re knives. Sharp and nasty, made to hurt others. But together, we are scissors. Better, safer, more useful. But more than that, we are our missing halves. And whatever comes between us, we destroy.” “I like that,” I told her. “You don’t think it’s creepy?” she asked tentatively. “No, it’s not creepy. Because I love you.
Vince O. Teves (Vince's Life: The Wedding)
The Codex actually sounds kind of creepy here. “Yeeeees, tell me eeeeeverything.” I was Marked by a very cute boy with terrible impulse control. I don’t remember because I was basically unconscious but everyone was mad at him when I woke up. The end, love Clary.
Cassandra Clare (The Shadowhunter's Codex)
Two people can be perfect for each other but if the timing's wrong it's never going to work out. Bad timing is the reason that most normal people end up single. Weirdos and creeps are single cause they are weird and creepy but people like us are single because of bad timing.
Adam Levy
It’s okay, I love the creepy feeling of waking up to someone staring at me.
Madeleine Urban
When I was born and the nurse held me like a football, when I opened my creepy little eyes, the first person I saw was my grandmother. I opened my eyes and saw the love of my life.
Danielle Henderson (The Ugly Cry: How I Became a Person (Despite My Grandmother's Horrible Advice))
The Arboretum’s overgrown grass rustled. The branches of an apple tree shook as though an animal had jumped from one to the next. A wind slid up my thighs, in the night, under my short nightgown. Crickets and cicadas made a sound like distant laughing children, the laugh track to a sitcom that didn’t end. It was like the grass was full of tiny giggling babies. So beautiful, and creepy.
Monica Drake (The Folly of Loving Life)
What helped me go through it was reminding myself of famous people who went through bad shit and were still alive. It was kind of creepy, but it helped. Like, Joaquin Phoenix had watched his brother die, and had to call 911. Keanu Reeves had lost his stillborn baby and the love of his life eighteen months apart. Oprah Winfrey had been a fourteen-year-old runaway after being sexually abused. Charlize Theron watched her mother shoot her father to death in self-defense. These people still lived. Laughed. Breathed. Got married. Had babies. Moved on.
L.J. Shen (Broken Knight (All Saints High, #2))
And let's not leave out the whole 'Scout is a love whore' issue." Talley tilted her face up. "What is a love whore exactly?" "You know, some reckless person who goes around falling in love with every attractive guy she comes across. Charlie, Alex, Liam. I'm all 'Oh! Pretty boy!' and the next thing you know I'm ruining everyone's lives because I want to curl up inside them and liver forever." "That is quite possibly the most bizarre and creepy description of what it feels like to fall in love I've ever heard." "Falling in love is bizarre and creepy.
Tammy Blackwell (Fate Succumbs (Timber Wolves Trilogy, #3))
Am I sounding creepy? Love is sort of creepy. When you fall in love, you presuppose all sorts of things about the person. You superimpose all kinds of ideals and fantasies on them. You create all manner of unrealistic, untenable, unsatisfiable criteria for that person, automatically guaranteeing their failure and your heartbreak. And what do we call it? Romance. Now that’s creepy.
Dianne Touchell (Creepy and Maud)
She really loves sherbet, so I was going to take her to Ben and Jerry's. Todd from our team has one of those vans you can sleep in, you know, with the black bubble window. It was going to be romantic.." "It sounds like your're trying to abduct a child, Jack. Jesus, the zoo, ice cream, a creepy van.
K.F. Germaine (Devious Minds (Devious Minds, #1))
I know your hormones are raging right now, but that does not justify bumping off the creepy new kids in school!
Abra Ebner (Book of Love (Knight Angels, #1))
No more creepy online alter egos in the name of love.
Elizabeth Rudnick (Tweet Heart)
Justin: I know where you live. Justin: Wait, I didn't mean that in a creepy way... Justin: Hello? Oh gawd... Did I freak you out? Justin: I just meant that I would know where to pick you up. And it's not like I'd show up in a van with the windows all blacked out. That'd be super creepy. Justin: I drive a Prius. Justin: Nobody gets abducted in a Prius, right?
Jessica Park (Flat-Out Celeste (Flat-Out Love, #2))
Cherubs are so creepy, don’t you think? Like, why are naked babies shooting poisonous arrows at innocent people a symbol of love? Why aren’t they a symbol of toddler anarchy instead?” “Roux,” I started to say, but then I paused, thinking about her comment. “That is an excellent point,” I admitted. “I blame Hallmark,” she said. “Damn them and their anarchist baby uprising.
Robin Benway (Going Rogue (Also Known As, #2))
You’re not the kind of person to just randomly fall in love. You’re way too . . .” My eyes shoot to his. “Too what?” “Well, you know, emotionally closed off.” “I will emotionally close off every orifice in your face if you don’t shut up about this right now.
Rachel Morgan (The Faerie Guardian (Creepy Hollow, #1))
Because of movies, music and television shows, men have come to believe that they are supposed to wait on a woman hand and foot and act like a stalker to make women fall for them. They learn, basically, that if they become her do-boy, she will fall in love with them. That may look romantic in the movies, but when you try that in real life, that is not the way it happens. It actually turns them off. Approval seeking behavior is not masculine. It is creepy stalker-like behavior.
Corey Wayne (How To Be A 3% Man, Winning The Heart Of The Woman Of Your Dreams)
Oh Beck, I love reading your e-mail. Learning your life. And I am careful; I always mark new messages unread so that you won't get alarmed. My good fortune doesn't stop there; You prefer e-mail. You don't like texting. So this means that I am not missing out on all that much communication. You wrote an "essay" for some blog in which you stated that "e-mails last forever. You can search for any word at any time and see everything you ever said to anyone about that one word. Texts go away." I love you for wanting a record. I love your records for being so accessible and I'm so full of you, your calendar of caloric intake and hookups and menstrual moments, your self-portraits you don't publish, your recipes and exercises. You will know me soon too, I promise.
Caroline Kepnes (You (You, #1))
You're not supposed to interject feelings into science, but part of the reason it's so fascinating that we're 8 percent (or more) fossilized virus is that it's so creepy that we're 8 percent (or more) fossilized virus.
Sam Kean (The Violinist's Thumb: And Other Lost Tales of Love, War, and Genius, as Written by Our Genetic Code)
This isn’t about validation, this is about having someone’s hand to hold when I’m walking through the creepy forest. I really thought of that tonight. Life is sometimes one great big creepy forest, and as much as I love you, we are both getting to the age where each other just isn’t enough.
Davee Jones
It is certainly true that cooking is therapeutic, creative and all those other faintly creepy self-helpish words. I would love to tell you that learning to cook was part of my journey toward actualization. I would love to tell Oprah this. I would love to tell Oprah this while weeping. But I learned to cook for a much simpler reason: in the abject hope that people would spend time with me if I put good things in their mouth. It is, in other words (like practically everything else I do), a function of my desperation for emotional connection and acclaim.
Steve Almond
Instead of fighting it, I close my eyes and let myself go. I feel the muscles of his shoulder beneath my hand. The frame his arms create is strong, secure, but I want those arms tighter around me. Much tighter around me. Much tighter, much closer. I want there to be no space at all between us. I. Want. Him. So. Badly. I want to kiss him, laugh with him, cry with him, share every freaking moment of my life with him because no matter how many awful things he's done in the past, I can't shake the undeniable feeling that when his arms are around me, I'm home.
Rachel Morgan (The Faerie Prince (Creepy Hollow, #2))
Men pretend to be “just a friend” at first, even though they want to sleep with you from day one. Otherwise they wouldn't be spending any time, money or attention on you, because these are limited resources and they need these resources to attract a mate. They can't afford to squander them. So they apply these resources to the female that looks to be their best bet to get laid. But they also know that they can't tell the woman on day one that they want to sleep with her, because she'd think it's creepy. So they play along with the illusion that it's “just a friendship” that “suddenly” developed into more, when the woman finally feels inclined to sleep with the guy “because they have a deep connection.” But that was really his goal from day one.
Oliver Markus (Why Men And Women Can't Be Friends)
What the fuck was that? Is it like that vid, with the people and the pods and the dupes?” “Oh, that’s a scary one. It’s sort of like that. He’s in love.” “What with?” “Who,” Peabody said with a laugh. “Apparently he met somebody a few weeks ago, and he’s in love. He’s happy.” “He’s fucking creepy, that’s what he is. I think I like him better when he’s a dick. He kept smiling.” “Happy makes you smile.” “It’s unnatural.
J.D. Robb (Indulgence in Death (In Death, #31))
He put the fork, knife, and spoon back in his pocket and tucked the flower behind his ear, then walked to the door, reaching it right before that butler did. He gave the man a glare—it was only a matter of time before he cracked and tried to kill them all—then pulled open the door. (...) “Nice flower,” the kandra said. “Can I have your skeleton when you’re dead?” “My…” Wayne felt at his head. “You’re a Bloodmaker, correct? Can heal yourself? Bloodmaker bones tend to be particularly interesting, as your time spent weak and sickly creates oddities in your joints and bones that can be quite distinctive. I’d love to have your skeleton. If you don’t mind.” Taken aback by this request, Wayne stopped in place. Then he ran past him, pushing into the room where Wax and Steris were talking. “Wax,” he complained, pointing, “the immortal bloke is being creepy again.
Brandon Sanderson (The Bands of Mourning (Mistborn, #6))
He smirked. “Decision time, pretty lady... back to reality?” She touched his cheek. “Or down the rabbit hole?
Jake Vander-Ark (Fallout Dreams)
She is here. And she comes to you, and she does not speak, and the others do not notice her, and she takes your hand, and you ready yourself to die, eyes open, aware this is all an illusion, a last aroma cast up by the chemical stew that is your brain, which will soon cease to function, ad there will be nothing, and you are ready, ready to die well, ready to die like a man, like a woman, like a human, for despite all else you have loved, you have loved your father and your mother and your brother and your sister and your son and, yes, your ex-wife and you have loved the pretty girl, you have been beyond yourself, and so you have courage, and you have dignity, and you have calmness in the face of terror, and awe, and the pretty girl holds your hand, and you contain her, and this book, and me writing it, and I too contain you, who may not even be born, you inside me inside you, though not in a creepy way, and so may you, may I, may we, so may all of us confront the end.
Mohsin Hamid (How to Get Filthy Rich in Rising Asia)
It’s dark, close, cold, and intensely creepy down there. The fact that it was inhabited by things that had no love for mankind and potential radioactivity to boot didn’t do much to boost its tourism industry.
Jim Butcher (White Night (The Dresden Files, #9))
Those strange creepy people, all picking at their little... scabs,” she had complained to me when Nathan was not around. “I hate this type of—and here I thought she used a lovely gem of a phrase—“unearned unhappiness!
William Styron (Sophie's Choice)
Did your dad say anything about Nick and Daisy?" "He-" I started. Then I caught a blur out of the corner of my eye, and something landed in the fountain with a resounding splash, drenching me and Jenna in a wave of pink water. Nick surfaced, tossing his head back and sending dropets flying. If a demon and a vampire both staring at him with identical looks of "WTF,dude?" bothered him, he didn't show it. Instead,he gave his usualy creepy grin and asked, "Did one of you lovely ladies say my name?" "Yeah," I said,glaring at him as I wrung water out of my braid. "We were just saying, 'Man,I wish Nick would fling himself into the fountain like a nut job and totally ruin our clothes.' So thanks for that." "Sophie's right," Daisy said, coming to stand next to the fountain. Apparently, wherever Nick was, she was right behind. "Tell them you're sorry." Her words might have sounded sterner if she hadn't been looking at Nick like he was something tasty to eat. God,they were weird. Nick sloshed through the water until he was right in front of me and Jenna. "That's actually why I came out here, my darling," he said to Daisy. "Sophie, I was a jerk to you yesterday." He didn't actually say 'jerk," but another word that was way more accurate. I just raised my eyebrows and waited for him to continue.
Rachel Hawkins (Demonglass (Hex Hall, #2))
We’re sorry about her, you know,” he says. “Carmel and I. We kind of liked her, even if she was creepy, and we know that you—” He breaks off and clears his throat again. I loved her. That’s what he was going to say. That’s what everyone else knew before I did.
Kendare Blake (Anna Dressed in Blood (Anna, #1))
I saw them,” he said. I frowned. “Saw what?” He took a deep breath as he eyed me. “The paintings.” For a moment, I didn’t get where he was going with this. Not when he traced the curve of my cheek with his thumb and not when a soft smile curved his lips. And then it hit me. “The paintings?” I swallowed and started to sit up, but he didn’t let me get very far. “The paintings at my place?” When he nodded, I felt my face heat like I was out under the summer sun. “The ones that are . . . ?” “Of me?” he supplied. I squeezed my eyes shut. “Oh my God. Seriously?” “Yes.” Mortified, I didn’t know what to say. “They were in my closet. Why were you in my closet?” “Looking for a psycho stalker,” he answered. My eyes popped opened. “That . . . that was like two weeks ago! You saw them back then and didn’t say anything.” Reece sat up, bringing me with him. Somehow my body ended up between his legs and we were face-to-face. “I didn’t say anything, because I figured you’d respond this way.” “Of course I’d respond this way! It’s embarrassing. You probably think I’m some kind of freak. A stalker—a creepy stalker who paints pictures of you when you’re not around.” “I don’t think you’re a stalker, babe.” His voice was dry. I screwed up my face. “I can’t believe you saw them.” He chuckled, and my eyes narrowed on him. “Honestly? I really didn’t know how you truly felt about me until I saw them.” My brows flew up. “I thought you were all-knowing.” Reece smirked. “I had my suspicions that you were in love with me from the first time you laid eyes on me.” “Oh dear baby Jesus in a manger,” I muttered. “But I don’t think I was a hundred percent until I saw those paintings, especially the one of me in the kitchen. You painted that after . . . after I left.” His brows lowered as he gave a little shake of his head. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I think it’s sweet.
Jennifer L. Armentrout (Fall with Me (Wait for You, #4))
We kind of wanted the going-out, shopping, prom-going type, and we got this weird, creepy one, and we love it but what is it talking about, ever? Sometimes Stevie felt bad for her parents. Their idea of what constituted interesting was so limited. They were never going to have as much fun as she did.
Maureen Johnson (Truly Devious (Truly Devious, #1))
This is probably a pretty good time to point out that while it may appear that I was lurking—I wasn’t. Lurking is what creepy guys with random facial hair and stains on their shirts do. Geniuses with three years of top secret spy training don’t lurk—we surveil. (Okay, I might have been lurking—a little.)
Ally Carter (I'd Tell You I Love You, But Then I'd Have to Kill You (Gallagher Girls, #1))
I felt stiff, the way I moved when I took that first bite, like I was eating something in church. He’d made that sausage so carefully. Food was his thing. I took another bite. I did. I ate it. I ate the dead man’s hot and meaty sandwich. It was good. […] When you see women who don’t eat? Or women who cleanse, detox and purge? I think they’ve done something like this. They’ve eaten in a way that’s left a memory, a creepy ghost, a body inside their own body.
Monica Drake (The Folly of Loving Life)
Willie said fathers were overrated, that my father could be one of thousands, most likely some rotten crotch creep that loved clip-on ties. She said I should forget about it. But I didn’t forget about it. I couldn’t. So the game continued, and for years I added names to the list, imagining that 50 percent of me was somehow respectable instead of rotten. And creepy was certainly relative. After all, what was creepier, a man who loved clip-on ties or a girl who kept a log of fantasy fathers hidden in her desk drawer?
Ruta Sepetys (Out of the Easy)
There are probably a few things worse than climbing into a hole that is actually underneath a creepy basement, but at that moment, it was hard to think of any of them. I was only a few steps down the ladder before I was plunged into darkness. The dim light in the cellar wasn’t strong enough to penetrate the gloom. I was also pretty sure that the tunnel was narrower now, and as I took another step down, both my shoulders brushed the walls. The metallic taste of fear flooded my mouth as my suddenly sweaty hands slid on the iron rungs. “Mercer?” Archer called from above me. “You okay?” I rested my forehead on the back of my hands, and tried to keep the panic out of my voice as I replied, “Yeah, fine. Why do you ask?” “Because you’re gasping.” Oh. Now that he mentioned it, my breath was heaving in and out of my lungs pretty quickly. I made an effort to slow it down as he asked, “Is it the dark, or-“ He grunted a little and shifted. Dirt rained down on me, and I shut my eyes. “Both,” I choked out. “Apparently I’m claustrophobic now. That’s, uh, new. Probably a side effect of fleeing a burning building through an underground tunnel.” I took another shaky breath. “Yay for psychological trauma.” “Come back up,” Archer said automatically, and I kind of loved him for that. “No,” I said, willing my feet to keep moving. “We’re trying to save the world here, Cross. No time for panic attacks.
Rachel Hawkins (Spell Bound (Hex Hall, #3))
She knew the secret of my creepiness.
Jerry Stahl (Perv - A Love Story)
I looked back toward the door. Creepy staircase or overly friendly international teenagers? I guess I'd take my chances with Ren.
Jenna Evans Welch (Love & Gelato (Love & Gelato, #1))
Stalked your FB and followed you on IG Liked your posts, commented tirelessly Boy, I can go on with this endlessly I like you too much. I know it's creepy.
Miss Rainbow Moonfire
Some problems can't be solved through love -given to us or through ourselves It's okay if your problems don't have a perfect solution.
Beth Evans (Thinking of You (but not like in a weird creepy way): A Comic Collection)
Chaotic goth misanthropy and creepy deadpan sarcasm are her brand, and I should know better than to take her seriously.
Ali Hazelwood (Love on the Brain)
-"This is incredible Ryn. It is. But-" -"No." He turns around. "No buts. You think I'm going to hurt you? You think I'm going to get bored and run off with some Undergrounder the first chance I get? You obviously have no idea how amazing you are. You, Violet Fairdale, are incredible, and I want you. Every part of you. I want your stubbornness and your sarcasm and your competitive spirit. I want you challenging me and fighting beside me. I want to hold you and kiss you and so much more because there's no one else in the world who knows me like you do. You have always been the one for me, even when we couldn't stand each other. You're beautiful and hot and sexy all at once, and you're more intelligent than any girl I've met. I love the fact that I've known you all my life. It just feels right when you're beside me. It feel like I've been lost in the desert for years, and... I've finally come home.
Rachel Morgan (The Faerie Prince (Creepy Hollow, #2))
And all that borrowed magic?” Des continues. “The process is called cobinding, and though Typhus made it sound cavalier and impersonal, it’s not like that,” Des says. I stare down at my fae wine. “Then how is it?” “Remember those horcruxes in Harry Potter?” I begin to smile in spite of myself. “Are you seriously dropping an HP reference right here, right now?” I ask, glancing over at Des. “I have your undivided attention, don’t I?” “And all my love.” I mean, I knew he was soulmate material before, but this pretty much just sealed the deal. Des’s face grows serious. “Essentially, when you exchange magic, you’re transferring more than raw energy. You’re moving a piece of yourself as well.” That’s massively creepy.
Laura Thalassa (Dark Harmony (The Bargainer, #3))
1) Everyone nodded in silent agreement, and then one by one disappeared into the castle’s dark shadows where night met blackened air and creepy things whispered the most haunting words into the wind.
Kenya Wright (The Muse (Dark Art Mystery, #1))
Thank you, Daylight Savings Time, for making people wax on about the wonder of an extra hour of sleep, only to serve as an especially depressing reminder to parents that kids don’t care about farmers and harvests and extra hours of daylight. I enjoy my kids standing at my bedside at 4:30 a.m. like creepy, wide-awake Children of the Corn. Naptimes are also jacked, so there’s that. With all due respect-ish, A Tired Mom.
Jen Hatmaker (For the Love: Fighting for Grace in a World of Impossible Standards)
Grace is more than just leniency and unconditional acceptance. Divine grace is God’s relentless and loving pursuit of His enemies, who are unthankful, unworthy, and unlovable. Grace is not just God’s ability to save sinners, but God’s stubborn delight in His enemies—yes, even the creepy ones. Grace means that despite our filth, despite the sewage running through our veins , despite our odd addiction to food, drink, sex, porn, pride, self, money, comfort, and success, God desires to transform us into real ingredients of divine happiness. Sprinkle, Preston (2014-07-01). Charis: God's Scandalous Grace for Us (p. 24). David C. Cook. Kindle Edition.
Preston Sprinkle
..sex wasn’t just about two people getting naked and tangled up together. A lot of other things were involved, things that make you feel so good you forget who you are, and things that feel so creepy you literally get goose bumps, and things you hold so dear you’re afraid to go to sleep, and things that make you so happy you want to bounce up and down—layer after layer of things like that, all mixed up into a sticky mess with the blood and sweat and love juice.
Ryū Murakami (Popular Hits of the Showa Era)
How are you? I'm shattered, thanks, how are you? I walk aimlessly through the rooms of my house, what have you been up to? I have woken up in the middle of the last 240 nights in a heart-pounding sweat, what's new with you? I sometimes wish I would never wake up, have you been on vacation this year? I ache for the arms of my sweetheart to hold me tight, how's your family? I feel barren and useless and creepy and mundane, seen any good movies lately? I'm terrified that I'll feel this way forever, I like that sweater you're wearing. I keep seeing his body on the hospital gurney, don't you love this weather. My broken heart is in my throat, let's do lunch. I'm so completely and utterly tired of being sad, thanks, how are you?
Christine Silverstein
Repression. Her therapist, Dr. Solomon, loved the word. He'd say it slowly, letting it roll off his tongue. Sometimes he'd add a chin stroke for good measure. He always looked pleased when he did this, like he'd discovered the Caramilk secret or something.
Jo Ann Yhard (Fossil Hunter of Sydney Mines)
When Mrs. Rose goes to check in with “the woman” about dinner, I pull out my phone and start tapping. “Potpourri,” I say aloud. “Scribbly paintings. Creepy Hummel figurines of peasant children doing chores.” Nicholas gives me a wary look. “What are you doing?” “Taking notes on how to make our house more enticing to you. You adore this one so much that you never want to leave, so I’m working out how to replicate the magic.” I resume my phone tapping. “Bouquets of flowers bestowed by loved ones. Hmm, I’ll have to find some loved ones.
Sarah Hogle (You Deserve Each Other)
I am not my winged eyes neither my soft skin, I am the stories you just couldn’t read in them, I am the bruises, I am the scars that burdened deep within. I am not my pretty face, I am the weird expressions that caught your eyes. I am not my laughs, and I am not my smiles, I am the weeps and sighs that you couldn’t hear. I am not my silence and I am not my wise words, I am the screams and curses that lay under my tongue. I am much more than what your eyes could see and I wonder if you would still fall in each world is hidden there inside of me …
Samiha Totanji
I am not sure whether you could call this abuse, but when I was (long ago) abroad in the world of dry men, I saw parents, usually upscale and educated and talented and functional and white, patient and loving and supportive and concerned and involved in their children’s lives, profilgate with compliments and diplomatic with constructive criticism, loquacious in their pronouncements of unconditional love for and approval of their children, conforming to every last jot-tittle in any conceivably definition of a good parent, I saw parent after unimpeachable parent who raised kids who were (a) emotionally retarded or (b) lethally self-indulgent or (c) chronically depressed or (d) borderline psychotic or (e) consumed with narcissistic self-loathing or (f) neurotically driven/addicted or (g) variously psychosomatically Disabled or (h) some conjunctive permutation of (a) … (g). Why is this. Why do many parents who seem relentlessly bent on producing children who feel they are good persons deserving of love produce children who grow to feel they are hideous persons not deserving of love who just happen to have lucked into having parents so marvelous that the parents love them even though they are hideous? Is it a sign of abuse if a mother produces a child who believes not that he is innately beautiful and lovable and deserving of magnificent maternal treatment but somehow that he is a hideous unlovable child who has somehow lucked in to having a really magnificent mother? Probably not. But could such a mother then really be all that magnificent, if that’s the child’s view of himself? ...I think, Mrs. Starkly, that I am speaking of Mrs. Avril M.-T. Incandenza, although the woman is so multileveled and indictment-proof that it is difficult to feel comfortable with any sort of univocal accusation of anything. Something just was not right, is the only way to put it. Something creepy, even on the culturally stellar surface.
David Foster Wallace (Infinite Jest)
The end of this short story could be a rather disturbing thing, if it came true. I hope you like it, and if you do, be sure to COMMENT and SHARE. Paradoxes of Destiny? Dani! My boy! Are you all right? Where are you? Have you hurt yourself? Are you all right? Daniiii! Why won’t you answer? It’s so cold and dark here. I can’t see a thing… It’s so silent. Dani? Can you hear me? I shouldn’t have looked at that text message while I was driving… I shouldn’t have done it! I'm so stupid sometimes! Son, are you all right?... We really wrecked the car when we rolled it! I can’t see or hear a thing… Am I in hospital? Am I dead…? Dani? Your silence is killing me… Are you all right?! I can see a glimmer of light. I feel trapped. Dani, are you there? I can’t move. It’s like I’m wrapped in this mossy green translucent plastic. I have to get out of here. The light is getting more and more intense. I think I can tear the wrapping that’s holding me in. I'm almost out. The light is blinding me. What a strange place. I've never seen anything like it. It doesn’t look like Earth. Am I dead? On another planet? Oh God, look at those hideous monsters! They’re so creepy and disgusting! They look like extraterrestrials. They’re aliens! I'm on another planet! I can’t believe it. I need to get the hell out here. Those monsters are going to devour me. I have to get away. I’m so scared. Am I floating? Am I flying? I’m going to go higher to try to escape. I can’t see the aliens anymore and the landscape looks less terrifying. I think I've made it. It’s very windy. Is that a highway? I think I can see some vehicles down there. Could they be the extraterrestrials’ transport? I’m going to go down a bit. I see people! Am I on Earth? Could this be a parallel universe? Where could Dani be? I shouldn’t have looked at that text message while I was driving. I shouldn’t… That tower down there looks a lot like the water tank in my town… It’s identical. But the water tank in my town doesn’t have that huge tower block next to it. It all looks very similar to my neighborhood, but it isn’t exactly the same: there are a lot of tower blocks here. There’s the river… and the factory. It’s definitely my neighborhood, but it looks kind of different. I must be in a parallel universe… It’s amazing that I can float. People don’t seem to notice my presence. Am I a ghost? I have to get back home and see if Dani’s there. God, I hope he’s safe and sound. Gabriela must be out of her mind with the crash. There’s my house! Home sweet home. And whose are those cars? The front of the house has been painted a different color… This is all so strange! There’s someone in the garden… Those trees I planted in the spring have really grown. Is… is that… Dani? Yes, yes! It’s Dani. But he looks so different… He looks older, he looks… like a big boy! What’s important is that he’s OK. I need to hug him tight and tell him how much I love him. Can he see me if I’m a ghost? I'll go up to him slowly so I don’t scare him. I need to hold him tight. He can’t see me, I won’t get any closer. He moved his head, I think he’s started to realize I’m here… Wow I’m so hungry all of a sudden! I can’t stop! How are you doing, son?! It’s me! Your dad! My dear boy? I can’t stop! I'm too hungry! Ahhhh, so delicious! What a pleasure! Nooo Daniii! Nooooo!.... I’m your daaaad!... Splat!... “Mum, bring the insect repellent, the garden’s full of mosquitoes,” grunted Daniel as he wiped the blood from the palm of his hand on his trousers. Gabriela was just coming out. She did an about turn and went back into her house, and shouted “Darling, bring the insect repellent, it’s on the fireplace…” Absolute cold and silence… THE END (1) This note is for those who have read EQUINOX—WHISPERS OF DESTINY. This story is a spin-off of the novel EQUINOX—WHISPERS OF DESTINY and revolves around Letus’s curious theories about the possibility of animal reincarnation.
Gonzalo Guma (Equinoccio. Susurros del destino)
I rolled my eyes in aggravation and glared at the ceiling, hating what I had to confess. Lend knew how much it affected me, taking souls, and I always felt guilty and dirty, like he was judging me even though he tried not to. “The faerie came after me when Reth was down and I sucked out some of her soul.” “Good.” “I—Good?” “Yes. Good.” I shuddered. “You don’t have the creepy, ice thing in you. It’s not good.” “You here, safe and alive? Good.” I smiled sadly and knocked on the wall three times. “I”—knock—“love”—knock—“you”—knock. He knocked three times back.
Kiersten White (Endlessly (Paranormalcy, #3))
A split second later, Sadie-Grace literally bowled me over with a hug. "I love college," she told me, scrambling to her feet and helping me up before resuming her aggressive hug campaign. "I'm majoring in dance and also Russian literature, and combined, Boone and I have only broken two bones!" "Both Boone's," Campbell clarified. "His bones are my bones," Sadie-Grace insisted. "And vice versa. Unless that's creepy? I've discovered I have a really hard time telling what's creepy, but on the bright side, I haven't been kidnapped or kidnapped anyone else this semester, so that's good.
Jennifer Lynn Barnes (Deadly Little Scandals (Debutantes, #2))
Plato in the Symposium used to say that, at the beginning of time, human beings had four arms, four legs, and two heads. In time, they began to be insolent toward the gods, who, as punishment, separated them into two parts with a thunderbolt, creating from each primordial human being two new divided beings. As a consequence, every man tries to find his initial wholeness looking for his lost half. He was right, more or less. I believed that even my soul was born differently. With ten arms, ten legs, and five heads. Creepy if I imagined it, but I thought it would make the idea better.
A.C. Pontone (Flames of Truth (The Lost Fae, #1))
It waited for her. Standing resolute in the moonlight, it had stood for a hundred years. Yet it waited just for her. Shadows passed across the moon, a cool breeze ruffled the leaves around it. Yet still it waited for her. Ancient tombs glowed in shimmery moonlight, row upon row of cold silent witnesses.
Grace Willows (Don't Look Back: And Other Stories of the Paranormal)
it. I hate that the phrase daddy issues is even in the vernacular. Like abusive failures of parents causing lifelong damage can be dismissed as just ‘daddy issues.’ It isn’t creepy to compare your partners to your parents—your parents are the ones who train you what to expect from relationships. They teach you how love works, and they train you how to expect others to treat you. That’s true for everyone regardless of who your parents are.
Lindsay Ellis (Truth of the Divine (Noumena, #2))
She is here. And she comes to you, and she does not speak, and the others do not notice her, and she takes your hand, and you ready yourself to die, eyes open, aware that this is all an illusion, a last aroma cast up by the chemical stew that is your brain, which will soon cease to function, and there will be nothing, and you are ready, ready to die well, ready to die like a man, like a woman, like a human, for despite all else you have loved, you have loved your father and your mother and your brother and your sister and your son, and yes, your ex-wife, and you have loved the pretty girl, you have loved beyond yourself, and so you have courage, and you have dignity, and you have calmness in the face of terror, and awe, and the pretty girl holds your hand, and you contain her, and this book, and me writing it, and I too contain you, who may not yet even be born, you inside me inside you, though not in a creepy way, and so may you, may I, may we, so may all of us confront the end.
Mohsin Hamid (How to Get Filthy Rich in Rising Asia)
I really doubt my parents are going to let me stay the night in a remote cabin with a bunch of boys.” “Oh, please, Snow White, Mike’s dad’ll be there. He’s actually kinda funny…you know, in a weird dad kind of way. Don’t worry, your purity will remain intact. Scout’s honor.” She made some sort of gesture with her fingers that Violet assumed was supposed to be an oath, but since Chelsea had never actually been a Girl Scout, it ended up looking more like a peace sign. Or something. Violet maintained her dubious expression. But Chelsea wasn’t about to be discouraged, and she tried to be the voice of reason. “Come on, I think Jay’s checking to see if he can get the time off work. The least you can do is ask your parents. If they say no, then no harm, no foul, right? If they say yes, then we’ll have a kick-ass time. We’ll go hiking in the snow and hang out in front of the fireplace in the evening. We’ll sleep in sleeping bags and maybe even roast some marshmallows. It’ll be like we’re camping.” She beamed a superfake smile at Violet and clasped her hands together like she was begging. “Do it for me. Ple-eease.” Jules came back with their milk shake. It was strawberry, and Chelsea flashed Violet an I-told-you-so grin. Violet finished her tea, mulling over the idea of spending the weekend in a snowy cabin with Jay and Chelsea. Away from town. Away from whoever was leaving her dead animals and creepy notes. It did sound fun, and Violet did love the snow. And the woods. And Jay. She could at least ask. Like Chelsea said, No harm, no foul.
Kimberly Derting (Desires of the Dead (The Body Finder, #2))
You could drink, slice, do meth, snort coke, burn, cut, stab, slash, rip out your eyelashes, or fuck till you bleed and it’s all the same thing: self-harm. She says: whether someone has hurt you or made you feel bad or unworthy or unclean, rather than taking the rational step of realizing that person is an asshole or a psycho and should be shot or strung up and you should stay the fuck away from them, instead we internalize our abuse and begin to blame and punish ourselves and weirdly, once you start cutting or burning or fucking because you feel so shitty and unworthy, your body starts to release this neat-feeling shit called endorphins and you feel so fucking high the world is like cotton candy at the best and most colorful state fair in the world, only bloody and stuffed with infection. But the fucked-up part is once you start self-harming, you can never not be a creepy freak, because your whole body is now a scarred and charred battlefield and nobody likes that on a girl, nobody will love that, and so all of us, every one, is screwed, inside and out. Wash, rinse, fucking repeat.
Kathleen Glasgow (Girl in Pieces)
You know Shay Coleman?” the guy asked, sounding doubtful. The girl was still laughing. She had no clue what was going on. “I’m in a class with him. It’s all good. I’m not like a stalker or anything.” I shuddered at that thought, and as the girl pulled me forward and into a large crowd in the bar, I couldn’t help but think about the control a stalker had. They chose when to say something. They chose when to approach, when to look, when to retreat. They had all the control. That was creepy as fuck. I never wanted to be a stalker. Why was I thinking about that?
Tijan (Hate to Love You)
Divine grace is God’s relentless and loving pursuit of His enemies, who are unthankful, unworthy, and unlovable. Grace is not just God’s ability to save sinners, but God’s stubborn delight in His enemies—yes, even the creepy ones. Grace means that despite our filth, despite the sewage running through our veins, despite our odd addiction to food, drink, sex, porn, pride, self, money, comfort, and success, God desires to transform us into real ingredients of divine happiness.3 Grace is God’s aggressive pursuit of, and stubborn delight in, freakishly foul people. And
Preston Sprinkle (Charis: God's Scandalous Grace for Us)
ULTIMATE BETRAYALS: [OH GOODY—ANOTHER SECTION ON MOMMY DEAREST. WE GET IT. SHE’S CREEPY. I DIDN’T FIGURE IT OUT FAST ENOUGH, AND SHE USED ME FOR A WHILE. BUT THAT’S ALL DONE NOW, AND IT’S ONLY A MATTER OF TIME BEFORE I TAKE HER DOWN. LET’S MOVE ON, SHALL WE?] A FOOLISHLY DANGEROUS PLAN: [I SHOULD PROBABLY BE OFFENDED BY THAT TITLE. BUT… RUNNING OFF TO JOIN THE NEVERSEEN DEFINITELY WASN’T MY SMARTEST MOVE. I THOUGHT I COULD TAKE THEM DOWN FROM THE INSIDE. AND YEAH, IT PRETTY MUCH BACKFIRED.] [I DID LEARN SOME STUFF, THOUGH!] [SORT OF…] [I’M STILL PIECING IT ALL TOGETHER. I MEAN, I WOULDN’T DO IT AGAIN OR RECOMMEND IT TO ANYONE ELSE OR ANYTHING (HEAR THAT, BANGS BOY???), BUT IT WASN’T A TOTAL WASTE.] [OKAY, MAYBE IT WAS.] A WAY WITH ALICORNS: [IT’S TRUE. GLITTER BUTT LOVES ME.] [SAY IT WITH ME: KEEFE! KEEFE! KEEFE!] EMOTIONAL SUPPORT STUFFED ANIMAL: [YOU GUYS MADE AN OFFICIAL RECORD ABOUT MRS. STINKBOTTOM???? I CAN’T DECIDE IF THAT’S AWESOME, OR REALLY, REALLY SAD.…] [SAD FOR YOU GUYS—NOT ME. SLEEPING WITH A STUFFED ANIMAL IS THE BEST. YOU SHOULD TRY IT SOMETIME!] [ALSO: DOES THIS MEAN FITZY HAS A SECTION ON HIS SPARKLY RED DRAGON SNUGGLE BUDDY????????] A MERCADIR—WITH THE SCARS TO PROVE IT: [EESH—THANK GOODNESS I CAN REDACT THIS. I REALLY DON’T NEED ANYONE REMINDING FOSTER HOW MAD SHE WAS AT ME. THE POINT IS: I BEAT THE OGRE KING IN A SPARRING MATCH. I DOUBT EVEN GIGANTOR COULD DO THAT!] FINAL NOTE: [WHY IS THERE NOT A SECTION ON MY AMAZING HAIR????] [HERE, LET ME FIX THAT FOR YOU!] [IT’S DIFFICULT TO DESCRIBE THE ABSOLUTE PERFECTION OF KEEFE’S TRADEMARK HAIRSTYLE. COUNTLESS OTHERS HAVE TRIED TO EMULATE IT, BUT THEY’VE ALL FAILED. THERE CAN ONLY BE ONE LORD HUNKYHAIR. IT’S A RESPONSIBILITY THAT MUST BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY!] [HUNKYHAIR → OUT]
Shannon Messenger (Unlocked (Keeper of the Lost Cities, #8.5))
[WAIT—IT WON’T LET ME REDACT THESE LITTLE SUBHEADING THINGS? THAT’S SUPER ANNOYING!] [FINE, I’LL JUST GIVE YOU MY SUMMARY.] [SO, WHOEVER WROTE THIS WAS ALL BLAH-BLAH-BLAH-STELLARLUNE-SOMETHING-SOMETHING-LEGACY. BUT SERIOUSLY, NO ONE WANTS TO READ ABOUT THE CREEPY STUFF MY MOM DID BEFORE SHE GOT PREGNANT WITH ME! (AND WE’RE ALL SUPER SICK OF HEARING ABOUT MY “LEGACY,” AMIRITE?) SO, LET’S JUST LEAVE IT AT THIS: MY MOM IS EVIL. SHE THINKS SHE’S WAY SMARTER THAN SHE IS. AND NOTHING SHE DID IS GOING TO AFFECT MY GENERAL AWESOMENESS, OKAY?] A PHOTOGRAPHIC MEMORY: [WOW, HOW DID YOU COME UP WITH SUCH A CLEVER TITLE?!] [AND YEAH, I HAVE A PHOTOGRAPHIC MEMORY. NOT SURE WHY ANYONE CARES. BUT IT DOES COME IN HANDY DURING MIDTERMS AND FINALS.] AHEAD OF THE GAME: [BASICALLY: I’M A GENIUS. I SKIPPED LEVEL ONE AT FOXFIRE. YES, YOU SHOULD BE IMPRESSED.] UNREASONABLY HIGH STANDARDS: [GOTTA ADMIT, I WAS TEMPTED TO LEAVE THIS ONE ALONE, SINCE WHOEVER WROTE IT ACTUALLY GOT THINGS PRETTY MUCH RIGHT. I GUESS EVEN THE COUNCIL KNOWS MY DAD’S A JERK WHO FREAKS OUT ALL THE TIME BECAUSE I’M NOT A LITTLE MINI-HIM. WHO KNEW?] A POWERFUL EMPATH: [UGH, THAT’S THE BEST YOU COULD DO FOR THIS SUBHEADING???] [HOW ABOUT “LORD OF THE FEELS”? OR “TRUST THE EMPATH”! OR “HE KNOWS WHAT YOU’RE FEELING—AND YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF”?] [OOO! I’VE GOT IT! “HE KNOWS FOSTER BETTER THAN YOU DO! BETTER THAN SHE EVEN KNOWS HERSELF!”] [THOUGH… KEEPING IT REAL? THE FOSTER OBLIVION CAN BE KINDA NOT COOL SOMETIMES.] THE HEART OF THE MATTER: [I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU GUYS NAMED A SECTION OF MY FILE AFTER MY FATHER’S SUPER-BORING BOOK—AND THEN RAMBLED ON FOR TWO PAGES ABOUT HIS SUPER-BORING THEORY!!!!!] [YOU DON’T NEED TWO PAGES ON IT. YOU DON’T EVEN NEED TWO SENTENCES. HERE’S ALLLLLL YOU NEED TO KNOW—BESIDES THE FACT THAT HE’S TOTALLY NOT THE FIRST PERSON TO COME UP WITH THIS (JUST THE ONE WHO LOVES TO TAKE CREDIT): OUR HEADS AND OUR HEARTS SOMETIMES FEEL DIFFERENT EMOTIONS, AND WHAT’S IN OUR HEARTS IS PROBABLY STRONGER.] [THAT’S IT!] [WELL… OKAY… I GUESS HE ALSO GOES ON A BIT ABOUT HOW EMPATHS PROBABLY ONLY READ THE EMOTIONS FROM THE HEAD.] [AND THERE’S SOMETHING ABOUT HEART EMOTIONS BEING PURER BECAUSE NO ONE CAN CONTROL THEM.] [BUT THAT’S IT.] [AND DON’T TELL LORD BORINGPANTS I READ HIS DUMB BOOK! I MOSTLY SKIMMED.] PRANKSTER AND TROUBLEMAKER: [100 PERCENT ACCURATE. ALSO, I’M LEAVING YOUR LITTLE ATTACHED DETENTION RECORD BECAUSE IT’S THE GREATEST THING I’VE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE!!!!]
Shannon Messenger (Unlocked (Keeper of the Lost Cities, #8.5))
Subject: Some boat Alex, I know Fox Mulder. My mom watched The X-Files. She says it was because she liked the creepy store lines. I think she liked David Duchovny. She tried Californication, but I don't think her heart was in it. I think she was just sticking it to my grandmother, who has decided it's the work of the devil. She says that about most current music,too, but God help anyone who gets between her and American Idol. The fuzzy whale was very nice, it a little hard to identify. The profile of the guy between you and the whale in the third pic was very familiar, if a little fuzzy. I won't ask. No,no. I have to ask. I won't ask. My mother loves his wife's suits. I Googled. There are sharks off the coast of the Vineyard. Great big white ones. I believe you about the turtle. Did I mention that there are sharks there? I go to Surf City for a week every summer with my cousins. I eat too much ice cream. I play miniature golf-badly. I don't complain about sand in my hot dog buns or sheets. I even spend enough time on the beach to get sand in more uncomfortable places. I do not swim. I mean, I could if I wanted to but I figure that if we were meant to share the water with sharks, we would have a few extra rows of teeth, too. I'll save you some cannoli. -Ella Subject: Shh Fiorella, Yes,Fiorella. I looked it up. It means Flower. Which, when paired with MArino, means Flower of the Sea. What shark would dare to touch you? I won't touch the uncomfortable sand mention, hard as it is to resist. I also will not think of you in a bikini (Note to self: Do not think of Ella in a bikini under any circumstanes. Note from self: Are you f-ing kidding me?). Okay. Two pieces of info for you. One: Our host has an excellent wine cellar and my mother is European. Meaning she doesn't begrudge me the occasional glass. Or four. Two: Our hostess says to thank yur mother very much. Most people say nasty things about her suits. Three: We have a house kinda near Surf City. Maybe I'll be there when your there. You'd better burn this after reading. -Alexai Subect: Happy Thanksgiving Alexei, Consider it burned. Don't worry. I'm not showing your e-mails to anybody. Matter of national security, of course. Well,I got to sit at the adult table. In between my great-great-aunt Jo, who is ninety-three and deaf, and her daughter, JoJo, who had to repeat everyone's conversations across me. Loudly. The food was great,even my uncle Ricky's cranberry lasagna. In fact, it would have been a perfectly good TG if the Eagles han't been playing the Jets.My cousin Joey (other side of the family) lives in Hoboken. His sister married a Philly guy. It started out as a lively across-the-table debate: Jets v. Iggles. It ended up with Joey flinging himself across the table at his brother-in-law and my grandmother saying loud prayers to Saint Bridget. At least I think it was Saint Bridget. Hard to tell. She was speaking Italian. She caught me trying to freeze a half-dozen cannoli. She yelled at me. Apparently, the shells get really soggy when they defrost. I guess you'll have to come have a fresh one when you get back. -F/E
Melissa Jensen (The Fine Art of Truth or Dare)
When we talk of inter-species romances, I feel it depends if the species are both fully-sentient and the conditions of the romance. Technically speaking, depending on the species it can be somewhat creepy. However for my question we must ask ourselves this - what is the measure of man? Do we consider “sentient” to be only applied to humans? If so, is it because of ignorance, or is it because we have never met a specie with our reasoning and intelligence? If we do, will be see it as “human” or “sentient” or will said ignorance blind us to the friendship or possibly loves that could come of accepting them into our fold? If this world were to be populated with other sentient species, would it be for better or worse? Would it cause humans to see that race is nothing but an illusion of physical traits? I, for one, would welcome new sentient species into our world, providing they did not come to kill us, but rather live with us. If they saw us as beneath them due to their power or technology, yet restrained themselves from doing horrible things due to it, I would see that as amazing restraint. If even one saw that we are, in the end, equal, I would see that as amazing strength. Who’s to say that any sentient species is better than another? It would be the same as saying one "race" of humans is better, which is untrue, despite those who think otherwise. In the end, are we not all mere “humans” of the same cosmos?
Casey Lehman
In an instant, five harlequin-like clowns emerged and began to perform all kinds of acrobatic tricks, encircling us––correction...corralling us. They were graceful but a little creepy too. They were wearing black and white costumes that were form fitting and appeared to move like some psychedelic drug trip when they flipped around. That of course was odd, but not nearly as odd as the chant they were singing as they continued to perform their tricks. See us dance. Watch us flip. Care to take a chance? We’ll only need a sip. Come to see our mistress? Or come to see our master? She can be quite viscous. But he is a disaster. We love them both, and we’ll let you choose. Either way, we wouldn’t want to be in your shoes.
Brynn Myers (Falling Out of Focus)
You’re both perfectly all right,” she informed them. “And we will get Aurimere back, and our magic back, and our town back, and then we will have everything we need.” “We have some important stuff already,” Ash offered tentatively. Lillian frowned. “What do you mean?” Jared surrendered himself to the strangeness of this situation, sank back onto the pillows himself with his head near Lillian’s hip, and sighed heavily to attract his aunt’s attention. “He wants to know you love him more than that stupid house.” “It is a very nice house,” Aunt Lillian said, sounding offended. “Your ancestors are buried in the crypt of that house.” “Sure. Okay. We’ll get our lovely creepy house back. When they bury me in that crypt, I want ‘Jared, very inbred, deeply uncomfortable about it’ on my tombstone.
Sarah Rees Brennan (Unmade (The Lynburn Legacy, #3))
The house was squashed like a mushroom by a thatched roof that hung far out over the walls. A pair of windows sparkled on either side of a rounded, heavy wooden door. There was nothing particularly creepy or witch-ish about it at all, except for maybe some leeks that grew on the roof around the higgledy-piggledy chimney (out of which wafted a lovely, homey-smelling smoke). Next to the cottage was a small fenced-in kitchen garden, and even in the low light Rapunzel could see it wasn't given over just to herbs and vegetables. Tall rockets of flowers and pretty, feathery foliage shot colorfully out of the corners. There was even a neat flagstone path that led up to the front door. "Witch?" Flynn asked, skeptical. "Or, like... crunchy earth mother type who drinks herbal teas and pretends the goddess speaks to her?
Liz Braswell (What Once Was Mine)
I need to teach you the trick.” He didn’t say it creepy. I could smell the liquor pouring off him in waves, but he wasn’t hunting me, not right at this moment. I took a deeper breath. “What trick?” He sat up straighter, garbling his words. “Whenever you can’t sleep, take five deep breaths, pulling them all the way into your toes and holding them until you can’t stand it. Then you stretch everything, even your little finger. Even the hair in your ears.” I smiled at this, though he wasn’t looking at me. That was something he used to say to us when we were younger. I love even the hair in your ears. Eww! We’d say. It’s full of wax! I still love it because I love you. “Then hold your eyes halfway closed to the count of twenty-five, then all the way closed to the count of one hundred. Think you can do that?” A big tear globe was swelling up in my right eye. I nodded. “Good,” Dad said. He pushed himself off the ground but started to tip. He got it on his second try. “You don’t need me, then. I think I’ll go for a walk.” He pointed toward the basement door. “Don’t go in there. Basements are where men hide their secrets.
Jess Lourey (Unspeakable Things)
The Mother’s Prayer for Its Daughter First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither the Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches. May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty. When the Crystal Meth is offered, May she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half And stick with Beer. Guide her, protect her When crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age. Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels. What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit. May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers. Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen. Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For Childhood is short—a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day— And Adulthood is long and Dry-Humping in Cars will wait. O Lord, break the Internet forever, That she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed. And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it. And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, That I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back. “My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes. Amen
Tina Fey (Bossypants)
There's a million dark little corners in Baytowne for you two to snuggle-" "Ohmysweetgoodness, Chloe, stop!" I giggle and shiver at the same time and accidentally imagine walking around The Village in Baytowne Wharf with Galen. The Village is exactly that-a sleepy little village of tourist shops in the middle of a golf-course resort. During the daytime anyway. At night though...that's when the dance club wakes up and opens its doors to all the sunburned partiers roaming the cobblestoned walkways with their daiquiris. Galen would look great under the twinling lights, even with a shirt on... Chloe smirks. "Uh-huh. Already thought of that, huh?" "No!" "Uh-huh. Then why are your cheeks as red as hot sauce?" "Nuh-uh!" I laugh. She does, too. "You want me to go ask him to meet us, then?" I nod. "How old do you think he is?" She shrugs. "Not creepy-old. Old enough for me to be jailboat, though. Lucky for him, you just turned eighteen...What the...did you just kick me?" She peers into the water, wswipes her hand over the surface as if clearing away something to see better. "Something just bumped me.” She cups her hands over her eyes and squints, leaving down so close that one good wave could slap her chin. The concentration on her face almost convinces me. Almost. But I grew up with Chloe-we’ve been next-door neighbors since the third grade. I’ve grown used to fake rubber snakes on my front porch, salt in the sugar dish, and Saran wrap spread across the toilet seat-well, actually, Mom fell prey to that one. The point is Chloe loves pranks almost as much as she loves running. And this is definitely a prank. “Yep, I kicked you,” I tell her, rolling my eyes. “But…but you can’t reach me, Emma. My legs are longer than yours, and I can’t reach you…There it is again! You didn’t feel that?” I didn’t feel it, but I did see her leg twitch. I wonder how long she’s been planning this. Since we got here? Since we boarded the plane in Jersey? Sine we turned twelve?
Anna Banks (Of Poseidon (The Syrena Legacy, #1))