Crossover Night Quotes

You love me? Like summer loves short nights.   Get a checkup, then. Only cure I need is you.   I’m serious about this, Chuck. Only doctor I need is Dr. Crystal Bell. Now come here . . .   And then there is silence, so I put the pillow over my head because when they stop talking,   I know what that means. Uggghh!

There should be a Stage IV of black identity—Unmitigated Blackness. I’m not sure what Unmitigated Blackness is, but whatever it is, it doesn’t sell. On the surface Unmitigated Blackness is a seeming unwillingness to succeed. It’s Donald Goines, Chester Himes, Abbey Lincoln, Marcus Garvey, Alfre Woodard, and the serious black actor. It’s Tiparillos, chitterlings, and a night in jail. It’s the crossover dribble and wearing house shoes outside. It’s “whereas” and “things of that nature.” It’s our beautiful hands and our fucked-up feet. Unmitigated Blackness is simply not giving a fuck. Clarence Cooper, Charlie Parker, Richard Pryor, Maya Deren, Sun Ra, Mizoguchi, Frida Kahlo, black-and-white Godard, Céline, Gong Li, David Hammons, Björk, and the Wu-Tang Clan in any of their hooded permutations. Unmitigated Blackness is essays passing for fiction. It’s the realization that there are no absolutes, except when there are. It’s the acceptance of contradiction not being a sin and a crime but a human frailty like split ends and libertarianism. Unmitigated Blackness is coming to the realization that as fucked up and meaningless as it all is, sometimes it’s the nihilism that makes life worth living. Sitting

The male stepped forward, tucking in his wings. He smiled slightly and said in the Old Language, in a voice like glorious night, 'Hello, Bryce Quinlan. My name is Rhysand.

Holding this secret is killing me.  I don’t know how it happened.  I let a simple attraction go way too far.  It happened one night after work.  This guy I had been seeing on campus approached me.  I’m not going to lie, the brother was fine.  I never should have gone out with him.  How do men know when women are vulnerable?  Is there a scent that we let off?

Uggggh …” groaned Alex, clutching her stomach. She had one more cake left in her pile, but her opponent had one more cake in his pile as well, and he’d already started to eat it. Alex’s eyes were rolling into the back of her head, and her skin was even paler than usual. “Alex, you can give up if you want to,” said Dave. “Don’t make yourself sick.” “Yes, we won’t think any less of you, dear girl,” said Porkins. “I’ll think less of you,” said Carl. “Carl!” said Dave. “What?” said Carl, shrugging. “I’m only being honest.” The elderly cowman was halfway through his last cake, and Alex hadn’t even started hers. It’s all over, thought Dave. There’s no way that Alex can catch up. Alex looked like she was going to pass out at any moment, but then, finding strength from somewhere, she picked up her final cake and opened her mouth wide. FLOOOONCH!!!!!! To Dave’s amazement, Alex shoved the entire cake into her mouth. Her cheeks were so stuffed full of cake that her head was about twice as wide as it usually was. Then, with a large gulp, she swallowed the cake down whole. She opened her mouth to show everyone that the cake was gone. “We have a winner!” The cowman hosting the competition shouted. Everyone in the inn let out an enormous cheer. The elderly cowman dropped the remainder of his cake on the table, admitting defeat. “Well done, dear girl!” Porkins said to Alex. “Yeah, well done, Alex,” said Carl. “If ever I need someone to eat a big pile of cakes, you’ll be the first person I ask.” “I still think this whole competition was completely foolish,” said Spidroth. “Nevertheless, Alex, I congratulate you on your victory. Like a true warrior, you bested all your opponents, showing them no mercy.” “Uggghh …” groaned Alex. Then she fainted, her face hitting the table. “Alex!” yelled Dave, rushing over to her. “Is anyone here a healer?” “I am,” said a cowman with grey fur, rushing over. “What’s wrong with her, Doctor?” asked Porkins. “My diagnosis is that she’s eaten too many cakes,” said the cowman healer, lifting Alex’s head. “I could have told you that,” said Carl, rolling his eyes. “What should we do with her?” asked Dave. “I think a good night’s rest should do the trick,” said the healer. “Are you sure you’re a healer?” said Carl. “None of this advice seems very professional.

The first thing Carl did, as he always did when he settled down for the night, was sit his golem suit down and crawl out of it. When Jimmy saw Carl crawling out of the suit, he fell about laughing. “Wait,” said Jimmy, “I thought that netherite golem thing was your actual body! Bro, you’re just a tiny creeper!” “If you keep laughing, I’m going to crawl back into my suit and show you what a tiny creeper can do,” said Carl menacingly.

All because your bike got stolen and you lost your cool one night and then posted that you needed someone to intervene between you and the monsters and your cousin Julie told your aunt who called your dad who texted Mom who drove all night and scheduled an appointment with St. Nick who thinks your post was a cry for help when actually you were just listening to Eminem and thought the song was kinda nice