Fired Up Poppy Quotes

Jon Snow, is this a proper castle now? Not just a tower?” “It is.” Jon took her hand. “Good,” she whispered. “I wanted t’ see one proper castle, before … before I …” “You’ll see hundred castles. The battle’s done. Maester Aemon will see to you. You’re kissed by fire, remember? Lucky. It will take more than an arrow to kill you. Aemon will draw it out and patch you up, and we’ll get milk of the poppy for the pain.” She just smiled at that. “D’you remember that cave? We should have stayed in that cave. I told you so.” “We’ll go back to the cave,” he said.” You’re not going to die, Ygritte. You’re not.” “Oh.” Ygritte cupped his cheek with her hand. “You know nothing, Jon Snow,” she sighed, dying.

Who is the true god.” “Chaos,” he says. That’s the closest the Hesperians will ever come to understanding the Pantheon. They’ll never grasp the depths of it; the terrifying swirl of forces that constitute all that is. Their minds can’t handle its incoherence; the fact that the sixty-four gods do not will and do not care. They can’t fathom a world without intention. The only word they might accept is chaos. But Nezha knows divinity. It’s fathomless. It is not something that can be measured or studied; can’t be described through meticulously constructed logic. The forces that dreamed up this world are the opposite of rational. Divinity isn’t knowable. It’s the Dragon in the grotto. It’s the Dragon inside him. It’s the three madmen who united a nation and tore themselves apart. It’s pain, eternity, and terror. It’s endless, all-consuming fire. It’s her.

Fire: the heat in your blood in the midst of a fight, the kinetic energy that makes your heart beat faster.” Jiang tapped his chest. “Water: the flowing of force from your muscles to your target, from the earth up through your waist, into your arms. Air: the breath you draw that keeps you alive. Earth: how you stay rooted to the ground, how you derive energy from the way you position yourself against the floor. And metal, for the weapons you wield. A good martial artist will possess all five of these in balance. If you can control each of these with equal skill, you will be unstoppable

He ran his fingers over the moist ends of her hair and across her face. Her eyes were wet. Jesus Christ. How many nights had he heard Lily crying. As some parents sleep through fire, thunderstorms, and voices at the back door only to wake at a child’s whisper, so Everett heard Lily crying at night. Her muffled sobs seemed to have broken his dreams for years. He had heard her even at Fort Lewis, even in Georgia, finally at Bliss. That was Lily crying in the wings whenever the priest came to tear up his mother’s grave. Lily cried in the twilight field where he picked wild poppies with Martha; Lily’s was the cry he heard those nights the kiln burned, the levee broke, the ranch went to nothing.

Let me go.' 'I don't know if I should.' His thumb moved in an idle circle along the inside of my wrist as he said. 'Someone is likely to be very irritated if you stab me, and I end up bleeding all over the bed.' 'You could always clean up after yourself.' 'There's something innately wrong with the idea of being stabbed and then having to clean up my own blood.

Casteel let go of my hands and stretched up, cupping my cheeks. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to mine, and I swore I felt his hands tremble. 'Always,' he whispered in the breath we shared. 'You heart was always safe with me. It always will be. There is nothing I will protect more fiercely or with more devotion, Poppy. Trust in that- in what you feel from me. In me.

I'm not most people.' 'Most people aren't as insane as you,' I said in a throaty voice that wasn't mine. 'That's not a very nice thing to say.' He scraped harder with his sharp teeth, just below where he'd bitten me before, and I gasped as my body jerked. 'And the truth is, you like my brand of insanity.' My blood pounded through me in a dizzying push. 'I don't like anything about you.' He laughed as his lips skimmed the side of my throat. 'I love how you lie.

What I feel? Like how I want to take your pain away and yet throttle you at the same moment? How your stupid dimples are infuriating, look for them every time you smile because I know that's a real smile. I don't know why I look forward to arguing with you, but I do. You're clever, and you are kinder than even you realise- even though I know you have earned the title of the Dark One. You are a puzzle I want to figure out, but at the same time, don't. And when I realised You have so many masks- so many layers, I kept wanting to peel them back, even though I fear it will only hurt more in the end.' I shook my head as I curled my fingers around the collar of my tunic. 'I don't understand any of this. Like how do I want to stab you and kiss you at the same time? And I know you said that I deserve to be with someone who didn't kidnap me, or someone I don't want to stab-' 'Forget I said that,' he said, closer to me when I looked up. 'I have no idea what I was talking about. Maybe I didn't even say that.' My lips twitched. 'You totally said that.' 'You're right. I did. Forget it.

After four days, during which I bathed with gritty wet wipes and figured out the long odds, I got out of Camp Hell. I had seen no real government and little aid that mattered. The United States had set up a tiny base in the middle of Taliban territory and started firing off howitzers every night, a move that probably terrified any Afghans who might have wanted them around. The base wasn't protecting anyone or able to win any hearts or minds. Instead, it stirred up a hornet's nest, with no conceivable way to calm it down, no real alternatives to poppies, no government authority. The United States did not bear all the blame. The lack of resources and troops here was the product of years of outrageous neglect by the entire international coalition.

Silence stretched, filling the room, and then he said. 'Can I... can I just hold you?' he asked, and I'd never heard him sound so uncertain. 'There are things I should be doing, and I know we're not in public, and I know that what we shared doesn't change anything, but... can I... can we just pretend?' My heart thumped heavily again, and I didn't know if it was the effect of the feeding or what we'd done afterward. Or if it was the softness of his request, the vulnerability of it, and the feeling that things had shifted even more between us. It could've been all those things that led me to say, 'You can.' Casteel's exhale was ragged, but he didn't move. When I looked over my shoulder, his eyes were closed, his lips parted. I wondered if he was all right. 'Casteel?' Think lashes swept up, revealing extraordinarily bright amber eyes. 'I... I didn't think you'd let me.' Lying my head back down, I wet my lips. 'Should I have not?' 'Yes? No? I don't know.' Casteel moved then, slipping one arm under me and the other around me. He tugged me close, sealing my back to his chest. 'Not takebacks now, though.

Matthew knew it was wrong the instant their lips met. Because nothing would ever equal the perfection of Daisy in his arms. He was ruined for life. God help him, he didn’t care. Her mouth was soft and hot, like sunshine, like the white blaze of a heartwood fire. She gasped as he touched her lower lip with the tip of his tongue. Slowly her hands came to his shoulders, and then he felt her fingers at the back of his head, sliding into his hair to keep him from pulling away. There wasn’t a chance in hell of that happening. Nothing could have made him stop. A tremor shook his fingers as he bracketed the exquisite line of her jaw in the open framework of his hand, gently angling her face upward. The flavor of her mouth, sweet and elusive, fueled a hunger that threatened to rage out of control… he searched the damp silk beyond her lips, deeper, harder, until she began to breathe in long sighs, her body molding against his. He let her feel how much stronger he was, how much heavier, one muscular arm clamped along her back, his feet spread to hold her between the powerful length of his thighs. Her upper half was bound in a laced and padded corset. He was almost overcome by a savage desire to tear away the stays and quilting and find the tender flesh beneath. Instead he sank his fingers into her pinned-up hair and tugged it backward until the weight of her head was cradled in his hand, and her pale throat was exposed. He searched for the pulse he had seen earlier, his lips dragging softly along the secret pathway of nerves beneath her skin. When he reached a senstive spot, he felt the vibration of her suppressed moan against his mouth. This was what it would be like to make love to her, he thought dazedly… the sweet shivering of her flesh as he entered her, the delicate chaos of her breath, the helpless sounds that rustled in her throat. Her skin, warm and female, scented like tea and talcum and a trace of salt. He found her mouth again, opened it, delving into wet silk, heat, and an intimate flavor that drove him mad. She should have struggled, but there was only yielding and more softness, driving him past all limits. He began to ravish her mouth with deep, twisting kisses, bringing her body rhythmically against his. He felt her legs part beneath her gown, his thigh fitting neatly between them. She squirmed with innocent desire, her face blooming with the color of late summer poppies. Had she understood exactly what he wanted from her, she would have done more than blush. She would have fainted on the spot. Lifting his mouth from hers, Matthew pressed his jaw against the side of her head. “I think,” he said raggedly, “this puts to rest any question of whether I find you desirable or not.

I’ve never had such mixed-up feelings about anyone. I don’t understand him. Tonight in bed, he—” “Wait,” Leo said. “Some things are better discussed between sisters. I’m sure this is one of them. We’ll reach Ramsay House by morning, and you can ask Amelia anything you like.” “I don’t think she would know anything about this.” “Why not? She’s a married woman.” “Yes, but it’s . . . well . . . a masculine problem.” Leo blanched. “I wouldn’t know anything about that, either. I don’t have masculine problems. In fact, I don’t even like saying the phrase ‘masculine problems.’ ” “Oh.” Crestfallen, Poppy pulled a lap blanket over herself. “Damn it. What exactly are we calling a ‘masculine problem’? Did he have trouble running the flag up? Or did it fall to half-staff?” “Do we have to speak about this metaphorically, or—” “Yes,” Leo said firmly. “All right. He . . .” Poppy frowned in concentration as she searched for the right words, “. . . left me while the flag was still flying.” “Was he drunk?” “No.” “Did you do or say something to make him leave?” “Just the opposite. I asked him to stay, and he wouldn’t.” Shaking his head, Leo rummaged in a side compartment beside his seat and swore. “Where the blazes is my liquor? I told the servants to stock the carriage with drink for the journey. I’m going to fire the bloody lot of them.” “There’s water, isn’t there?” “Water is for washing, not drinking.” He muttered something about an evil conspiracy to keep him sober, and sighed. “One can only guess as to Rutledge’s motivations. It’s not easy for a man to stop in the middle of lovemaking. It puts us in a devil of a temper.

I should be here with you,' Kieran stepped closer to Casteel. 'My duty is to defend your life with mine. That is what I'm bonded to do, the oath I took. How can I do that running away from the battle?' His voice lowered. 'Don't do this, Cas.' ... 'You took an oath to protect me, and you will,' Casteel said. 'You're not running away from the battle. You will be keeping safe what is most important to me, and that is Poppy.' I jolted. 'Wait. What?' 'You will leave with them. It will be hard,' he said, still holding Kieran's gaze. 'There will be no breaks, and you will need to listen to everything Kieran tells you, especially when it's night in the mountains, but-' 'I'm not leaving,' I cut him off. 'You can't be here,' Casteel replied. 'Not when they come. This is not up for discussion.' I shot to my feet. 'Let me make one thing clear. I don't know if you realise this or not, Casteel, but I'm not duty-bound to obey a single thing you say.' Casteel stiffened. 'And maybe you should actually look at me when you try to order me to do things,' I tacked on. He turned to me, his head cocked. 'I'm looking at you now.' 'But are you listening?' 'Oh, man,' Delano murmured under his breath as the rest of the room went dead silent. 'Someone is getting stabbed again.' Someone, I think it was Jasper, snorted. 'Oh, I'm listening,' Casteel replied. 'Maybe you should try that. Along with this thing called common sense.' 'Definitely getting stabbed,' Kieran confirmed.

The lipsticks that I own are steeped in sex and blood. In my collection, I have Lady Danger; Relentlessly Red; Good to Go. Cosmo tells me early on that the painted mouth is supposed to evoke the labia, voluptuous and slightly parted, and the names of my lipsticks bear this out: they are unequivocal. There are fast cars, dangers, and passion. There is fire, lust, anger poppies, roses, all of them packed into small, dark tubes.

It would, but so are wolven to a lot of mortals.” He had a point there. “And I imagine so are empaths.” “Empaths?” “A warrior bloodline that died off shortly after the war, but these were even more unique, Poppy. The ones everyone dreaded to face in battle.” His fingers slid over mine, and I looked up at him. “They were favored by the deities, as they were the only ones who could do what the empaths could—read the emotions of others and then turn that into a weapon, amplifying pain or fear. Sending an army running before a sword was even lifted.” My breath caught.

Do I even want to know why you just hit Kieran?' Casteel asked as he rejoined us. Kieran's eyes lit as he opened his mouth- 'No,' I jumped in, shooting Kieran a look that promised death if he spoke as Casteel came to stand beside me. 'You do not.' Grinning, Kieran backed up. 'When has she ever needed a reason to be violent.' 'Good point.' Casteel glanced down at me, one side of his lips quirking. The damn dimple winked into existence. 'I guess I should be grateful that she didn't stab you.' 'There's always later,' I muttered. A throaty, feminine laugh snapped my head around. 'You're right, Kieran. I like her.

Tell me about the conversations you and your brother escaped? The ones that drove you to the caverns. Tell me why you refuse to take the throne even when you know your brother won't be fit to do it when you free him,' I demanded. 'Tell me why you thought it was okay in the first fucking place to kidnap me and use me as random before you even knew me!' Frustration crowded my throat. 'Tell me why it never occurred to you to mention the Joining. Tell me about Gianna, Casteel. Does she care for you? Does she want this engagement? Do you care for her? He exhaled roughly, shaking his head, but I wasn't done. 'Tell me why you never told me the truth about Spessa's End until I was here? Was it because you didn't trust me with that information? Tell me about her. The one you loved and lost because of the Ascended. Tell me what happened to her. Will you even say her name?' My chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, and my anger overwhelmed my senses, blocking out his emotions completely. 'Tell me how you can stand to be near me when I represent the people who took so much from you. Tell me why you really came to my room tonight. Tell me something that matters. That is real.' Casteel's chest rose with a heavy breath. 'You want something real?' 'Yes.' 'I came to your room tonight to learn if what you said at dinner was true. That I was the first person to ever seen you. That I was the first thing you ever chose for yourself. That you chose me when you knew me as Hawke, and even after you learned the truth, you still chose me,' he growled, his eyes luminous. 'I came here tonight to learn if you really felt like you were betraying Vikter and Rylan, all the others and yourself. I came here to see if that'd changed. Was all of that real, or were you just pretending?' I took a step back, entirely too exposed, and it had nothing to do with the ridiculous nightgown. I hadn't expected him to go there. I wasn't sure why, but I hadn't. He shook his head as he barked out a short, humourless laugh. 'Yeah. Silence. As usual. That's why there was never a reason to tell you any of those things you've demanded from me.' I stared up at him, hands and arms trembling. 'I don't know what you want from me.' 'Everything,' he bit out between clenched teeth. 'I want everything.

Let me go.' 'I don't know if I should.' His thumb moved in an idle circle along the inside of my wrist as he said. 'Someone is likely to be very irritated if you stab me, and I end up bleeding all over the bed.' 'You could always clean up after yourself.' 'There's something innately wrong with the idea of being stabbed and then having to clean up my own blood.

You are...' 'Marvellous? Charming? Undeniable?' 'Increasingly annoying.' 'But you still haven't used the dagger at my neck.' 'I'm trying to think of the people who will have to clean up the mess.' 'How thoughtful of you.

Have I told you that you're beautiful?' 'What?' The shift in conversation threw me. 'I might have, but I couldn't remember if I did,' he went on, tugging gently on the strap. 'Then I thought that it wasn't something you could say too often. You're beautiful, Poppy.' My stupid, stupid heart skipped. 'Is that why you decided to wake me up in the middle of the night?' 'You're beautiful.' HIs head tilted, and I gasped at the feel of his lips on the longer scar on my cheek. He kissed that one and then the shorter one, above my eye. 'Both halves, and you should never question why anyone would find you utterly, irrevocably, and distractingly beautiful.' The skipping was back, but I ignored it. 'That is a lot of adjectives.' 'I can come up with more.' 'That won't be necessary,' I advised. 'So, now that you've told me this, you can get off me.' He smiled against my cheek. 'But you're comfortable, Princess.

Are you watching me sleep?' 'Not now. I was a few minutes ago,' he admitted, one side of his lips curving up. 'Now, I'm talking to you.' 'That's creepy,' I murmured. 'The watching me while I sleep part.' 'Possibly.' 'You have no shame.

Blessed be the gods, someone mark the date and time. She just admitted I was right.' 'Oh, shut up,' I bit back. 'Fine with me. Conversation is over. You'll leave with Alastir and Kieran immediately.

It turns me on when you're armed with something sharp.' 'There's something so entirely wrong with you.' He came around to my front. 'But you like what's wrong with me.' 'There is something wrong with me, too,' I looked up at him. 'Because I do.' 'I know.' He touched my cheek. 'I've always known you like that I enjoy when you make me bleed.

Glad you haven’t because that was when you had a knife to your throat—” “I was trying to save you and the people,” I reminded him. “We’ve already covered this.” “We did, but Kieran told me that he heard you calling him. He said the other wolven felt it, too. That they all veered in our direction. Jasper confirmed it,” he said. “He said the same thing.” “I didn’t. I mean, how?” I swallowed. “I was obviously feeling a lot in that moment. I felt like, I don’t know, like I was about to lose control. But how is that even possible?” “I don’t know, Poppy. I’ve never seen anything like that. I don’t know how they could’ve picked up anything from you.” He tugged on a strand of my wet hair and draped it over my bare shoulder. “Neither do they. I asked them when they came by just now. Both said they felt you calling for them—calling for help.” Goosebumps broke out over my skin. “Delano. Oh, my gods….” “What?” “When we were in New Haven and I was kept in the room, he burst inside at one point, swearing he heard me calling for him. But I hadn’t.” Casteel’s brows slashed over his eyes. “Did something happen at that time? Because if so and I wasn’t told about it—” “Nothing happened. I was mad—mad at you, because I was locked in the room,” I explained. “He then said it must’ve been the wind, and it was windy then, so I forgot about it.

Kieran had finally, after about ten years, finished cutting up his food. 'May I have that? If you're done, that is? I'm not sure, but the last piece is a little thicker than the rest of the pieces.' Slowly, he looked over at me. 'Would you like me to cut your food for you?' 'Would you like me to knock you off this bench?' He chuckled deeply. 'Cas is right. You are incredibly violent.' 'No, I'm not.' I pointed my fork at him. 'I'm just not a child. I don't need someone else cutting my meat.' 'Uh-huh.' He handed the knife over, and I took it before he could change his mind.

He raised an eyebrow at me. 'You plan to use that?' 'Why does everyone think I'm going to stab them when I pick up anything that's not blunt?' 'Well,' Kieran replied blandly, 'you do have a habit of doing exactly that.' I started to argue but quickly realised that, unfortunately, he had a point. 'Only when it's deserved.' I placed the dagger on the small wooden table. 'And it's not my fault that some of you deserve to be stabbed. Repeatedly.

I like that,' Casteel said. 'What?' 'You looking at me.' I watched him toss the rolled-up pair of breeches into his bag. 'I'm not looking at you.' 'My mistake, then,' he murmured, the dimple in his right cheek remained.

You did what you needed to do to survive. I hope you truly believe that.' Casteel didn't answer, and when I looked over at him and saw the vast emptiness in his expression, my heart ached. Because I knew. I knew he didn't. And all I wanted was to bring warmth back to him. 'I still want to stab you.' His head shot in my direction. 'Just not as frequently,' I amended.' One side of his lips curled up, and then he laughed. The sound was rough and a little hoarse, but it was real. 'I would be disappointed if you didn't.' I looked forward, smiling. 'That is such a weird statement.' 'What can I say? I have a thing for women with violent tendencies.' 'That doesn't sound any better,' ...

I can't believe you're doing this.' Casteel chuckled. 'Not like you haven't seen it all before.' 'That doesn't mean I need to see it all again,' ...

Are you done talking yet? Or are you too afraid that I might actually beat you, so you won't shut up?' 'I like hearing myself talk.' 'I'm sure you do.

Then I guess it would be repetitive of me to tell you how much you're turning me on now?' 'That and how incredibly disturbing it is.' He smiled up at me, his eyes twin golden flames. 'I do so prefer hand-to-hand combat with you,' he said, catching my other wrist when I swung my fist down. 'I like how close it brings us, Princess.' I shrieked my frustration- my irritation- at him. At myself. 'There is something so wrong with you!' 'Probably, but you know what?' He lifted his head off the ground. 'That's the part you like the most.

Did you just pull me into a pantry?' 'I did.' Casteel's chin dipped as he stepped into me. Dark hair toppled forward onto his forehead. I stepped back, bumping into a shelf. Jars rattled. He was so tall, I had to crane my neck all the way back to meet his gaze. 'Why?' 'I wanted a moment alone.' He placed his hands on the cupboard above my head. 'With you.' Senses hyperaware, I watched him lean in as a confusing tremor of anticipation coiled its way down my spine. 'And you needed this moment alone in a pantry?' He turned his head slightly, lining up his mouth with mine. 'I just needed.

Now git goin thru that screen door before I use it as a weapon. You're just a witless fool. That's what you are, a fool, Mae Mae said, shaking her head as if she had just discovered truth. An' put a log on that fire for me on your way out. Make yourself useful for something but misery. Cause you messed with the wrong MaMae. Look in my eyes. Philip, in all of his dejection and correction, had to look with respect. Yes, maam, he said sheepishly looking up from from the pine floor into her narrow, serious eyes. See I see right thru ya, she said, noddin her chin and holding her eyes like fire into his soul. An' the motives of your heart are stinkin up the place. I don't want the kids to smell it when they wake up from their naps. I don't know what's wrong with your generation. Missing men. No fathers. It disgusts me. At least in my time, women got some respect an alimony. An my daughter's got six kids and broke. But yours, they just gone missing. Hiding up in the woods with some women. Or abscounding to your cousin Satchie's trailer. Not supportin' them kids. Goin to jail. Servin their selves instead of the One who made 'em. It ain't no man problem, it's a sin probl'm. An people my age just sick that none of yall, no not one, know the capital letters of RESPONSIBILITY. Now take your lies and country jeans an drive down the gravel cause you ain't welcome here no more. The screen is locked, Ma Mae shouted as Philip walked blankly out the door.