Nasty Freak Quotes

The thing about real life is, when you do something stupid, it normally costs you. In books the heroes can make as many mistakes as they like. It doesn't matter what they do, because everything works out in the end. They'll beat the bad guys and put things right and everything ends up cool. In real life, vacuum cleaners kill spiders. If you cross a busy road without looking, you get whacked by a car. If you fall from a tree, you break some bones. Real life's nasty. It's cruel. It doesn't care about heroes and happy endings and the way things should be. In real life, bad things happen. People die. Fights are lost. Evil often wins. I just wanted to make that clear before I begun.

When order in study was finally reestablished, Wrath looked downright nasty. "Next one of you mouthy assholes makes me pound my desk again, I'm throwing you the fuck out." On that note, he reached down, picked up the cowering ninety-pounds retriever, and settled George in his lap. "You're freaking out my dog and it's pissing me off.

When you’re with me, you’re not vulnerable. When you’re with me, you are safe. When you’re with me, you will never be alone. And as for your heart, Sera. I’ll make sure it’s beating too fast for you to ever feel it ache again.

I’m the boy who fell for you from afar, Sera. I should have done the right thing and walked away. I’ve never had a problem walking away from anything in my whole damn life, but I was weak. I could not walk away from you.

Zeth Mayfair

He was so unbelievably perfect; he looked like he had been conjured out of someone’s dream, not born of reality.

You’re a weapon, Sera. You were forged in fire. When you remove a weapon from the flames, it becomes even stronger. Sharper. A hundred times more lethal than it ever was before.

We were more than just Fix and Sera, now. We were far more than that, unbreakable and indestructible, and heaven help anyone who tried to fuck with us.

He had the face of an angel, the body of a god, and a mouth that could make the devil blush.

Whatever you want, just claim it. Let yourself go. Or tell me to fuck off. But be honest.

And as for your heart, Sera, I’ll make sure it’s beating too fast for you to ever feel it ache again.

Nasty thing that happened up there. It's stayed in the town's consciousness, too. Of course, tales of nastiness and murder are always handed down with slavering delight from generation to generation, while students groan and complain when they're faced with a George Washington Carver or a Jonas Salk. But it's more than that, I think. Perhaps it's due to a geographical freak.

He was going to suffer for fucking with me like this, and I didn’t care what it did to me. I’d give away the very last gentle, good part of my tattered soul if it meant he paid for endangering Sera’s life.

The thing about real life is, when you do something stupid, it normally costs you. In books, the heroes can make as many mistakes as they like. It doesn't matter what they do, because everything works out in the end. They'll beat the bad guys and put things right and everything ends up cool. In real life, vacuum cleaners kill spiders. If you cross a busy road without looking, you get whacked by a car. If you fall out of a tree, you break some bones. Real life's nasty. It's cruel. It doesn't care about heroes and happy endings and the way things should be. In real life, bad things happen. People die. Fights are lost. Evil often wins.

It’s yours,” he murmured. “My face. My mouth. May hands. My body. My cock. All of it. If you want it, it’s all yours. Feel free to use the fuck out of me.” Dear Lord. Thankyou so much for your depraved servant, Felix.

Sex with you is a holy act. I can’t think of a better word, Sera, but that’s what it is to me. It’s a communion between our bodies and our souls. It’s certainly not meant to titillate random strangers just for the hell of it.

I’ll love you as fiercely as the sun fucking burns, and you’ll have to fucking like it, because you did this, Felix. You made me love you just as much as you love me, and it’s never going to go away now. I’m never going to go away. This is it.

I’d had to fight for everything in my life, and I didn’t regret that for a moment. The fight had shown me how strong I was. It had shown me the true value of happiness, and it had shown me the lengths I was willing to go to in order to protect it.

I’m the thing that stands between you and the dark. I will always be standing there, bracing for the shit storm, ready to fucking defend and protect you, if that’s what you want, because you’re the most important, pivotal, vital thing that’s ever happened to me.

Fix. A creature made out of shadows and light. A dream, and a nightmare rolled into one. He was both sides of a coin toss, consequence and reward. I wanted to kiss him so badly right then that my lips ached. I wanted to run away from him, screaming, just as badly.

Better men would pretend. They’d make sure you were safe, and they would leave you the fuck alone. I’m the very worst kind of creature, the fucking worst, because I can’t do that. I can’t fucking let you go. I’m in love with you, Angel. And it will be the death of us both.

This isn’t a let’s-date-and-see-where-life-takes-us deal, Sera. This is all or nothing. This is to the ends of the fucking earth and back. This is giving all, giving everything, total fucking surrender. Total victory, and total defeat. There is no going back from it. Not ever.

How were good girls supposed to stay good when bad boys like Fix made it so easy to sin? How the fuck were smart girls supposed to retain their sanity, not to mention their heads, when they had Felix Marcosa’s hands roaming all over their body? It just…it wasn’t fucking possible.

Nothing will ever be simple after you, Sera.” Unravelling my hair from around his finger, he reached down and took my hand. Thoughtfully, he turned it over and began to trace the lines of my palm. “I’m unwilling to even think about what my life would look like if you decided to turn around and walk away from me.

The thing about anger was this: you could argue and reason with it all you liked, but it was like a drug coursing through your veins. It was almost impossible to relinquish. It made you feel righteous, and it made you feel strong, and at the end of the day there was nothing worse than feeling unjustified and weak instead.

He wasn’t just a man. He wasn’t even of this planet, as far as I was concerned. He was either an alien, crash landed here from some distant galaxy, where everyone was unbelievably attractive, or he really was an angel, who, having fallen from grace and tumbled from heaven, was now living among us mere mortals, confusing us all with his surreal, otherworldly hyper-masculine beauty, and generally causing chaos and disruption wherever the fuck he went.

I’m not going to ask you to collar the monster inside you, because I already know it, and it’s a part of you,” she said. “I’ll allow your demons to protect me, and I’ll use mine to defend you, too. Stupid though that is. However fucking dangerous and unbelievably idiotic though that is. But I’m keeping the gun, Fix. And I will use it the moment your demons look like they’re turning on me.” Holy. Fucking. Shit. This woman. She was miraculous. She was beautiful. She was strong. She was everything.

I’m gonna go to sleep soon. Don’t even think about trying to climb into bed with me. It’s a sure fire way of getting yourself castrated.” “Please. You know you want to sleep with me, Sera Lafferty. You wanted to sleep with me the moment you set eyes on me.” A slow, frankly unnerving smile spread across her face. She was beginning to look like a woman who really would tear a guy’s dick off for climbing into bed with her. “You have a very high opinion of yourself, Fix.” I grinned back at her, flashing her my teeth. “Of course I do. I’m really fucking awesome.

When it passes us, the driver tips his cap our way, eying us as if he thinks we're up to no good-the kind of no good he might call the cops on. I wave to him and smile, wondering if I look as guilty as I feel. Better make this the quickest lesson in driving history. It's not like she needs to pass the state exam. If she can keep the car straight for ten seconds in a row, I've upheld my end of the deal. I turn off the ignition and look at her. "So, how are you and Toraf doing?" She cocks her head at me. "What does that have to do with driving?" Aside from delaying it? "Nothing," I say, shrugging. "Just wondering." She pulls down the visor and flips open the mirror. Using her index finger, she unsmudges the mascara Rachel put on her. "Not that it's your business, but we're fine. We were always fine." "He didn't seem to think so." She shoots me a look. "He can be oversensitive sometimes. I explained that to him." Oversensitive? No way. She's not getting off that easy. "He's a good kisser," I tell her, bracing myself. She turns in her seat, eyes narrowed to slits. "You might as well forget about that kiss, Emma. He's mine, and if you put your nasty Half-Breed lips on him again-" "Now who's being oversensitive?" I say, grinning. She does love him. "Switch places with me," she snarls. But I'm too happy for Toraf to return the animosity. Once she's in the driver's seat, her attitude changes. She bounces up and down like she's mattress shopping, getting so much air that she'd puncture the top if I hadn't put it down already. She reaches for the keys in the ignition. I grab her hand. "Nope. Buckle up first." It's almost cliché for her to roll her eyes now, but she does. When she's finished dramatizing the act of buckling her seat belt-complete with tugging on it to make sure it won't unclick-she turns to me in pouty expectation. I nod. She wrenches the key and the engine fires up. The distant look in her eyes makes me nervous. Or maybe it's the guilt swirling around in my stomach. Galen might not like this car, but it still feels like sacrilege to put the fate of a BMW in Rayna's novice hands. As she grips the gear stick so hard her knuckles turn white, I thank God this is an automatic. "D is for drive, right?" she says. "Yes. The right pedal is to go. The left pedal is to stop. You have to step on the left one to change into drive." "I know. I saw you do it." She mashes down on the brake, then throws us into drive. But we don't move. "Okay, now you'll want to step on the right pedal, which is the gas-" The tires start spinning-and so do we. Rayna stares at me wide-eyed and mouth ajar, which isn't a good thing since her hands are on the wheel. It occurs to me that she's screaming, but I can't hear her over my own screeching. The dust wall we've created whirls around us, blocking our view of the trees and the road and life as we knew it. "Take your foot off the right one!" I yell. We stop so hard my teeth feel rattled. "Are you trying to get us killed?" she howls, holding her hand to her cheek as if I've slapped her. Her eyes are wild and glassy; she just might cry. "Are you freaking kidding me? You're the one driving!

My dick’s pretty fucking phenomenal. You should see it. Grown women have been known to weep when they behold it.” He

I stroked the pad of my thumb over the rugged line of his cheekbone. Fix hummed—an amused, deep sound that vibrated in the air.  “It’s yours,” he murmured. “My face. My mouth. My hands. My body. My cock. All of it. If you want it, it’s all yours. Feel free to use the fuck out of me.

cleaning my rifle.

He was huge, and he was clearly a highly-trained fighter. But Oscar was forgetting one thing: I was huge, too. I was highly trained. All he’d done was set two meteors hurtling toward each other, sending them on a collision course, and the impact when Zeth and I finally clashed was going to leave a crater in the middle of New York City, a mile wide and a mile deep.

I’d done some stupid, messed up things as a teenager. I’d done equally stupid, reckless things after I’d thrown down my collar and walked right out of St Luke’s, but nothing in my life had ever gotten me as high as Sera Lafferty. She was the light that flowed in my veins. She was the oxygen in my lungs. She was the fuel that fired my heart.

He cupped my face in his hand, stroking the pad of his thumb over the line of my cheekbone. “You’re fucking mine,” he groaned. “You don’t need to worry anymore. You’re safe. I won’t let anyone hurt you. I’ll fucking flay the skin off anyone who tries to lay a finger on you.

My dick’s pretty fucking phenomenal. You should see it. Grown women have been known to weep when they behold it.” … “I’m sure your dick is magnificent,” I said, groaning under my breath. “I’m sure women across the country have carved wooden replicas of it that they worship daily. It’s probably the most stunning cock to have ever gotten a boner. But I’m gonna pass this time.

Life’s just too short for that kind of bullshit. I like being real. I like being honest, as much as I can be, especially with myself. Are you honest with yourself, Sera?

He was raw, untapped power, a storm trapped inside a bottle, and I got the feeling he raged day and night, no matter what. It felt unsafe being so close to him, like I was being drawn closer and closer against my will, and no matter how hard I tried to resist him, I just couldn’t.

Fix was broken and undone. He was light and he was darkness. And despite every warning bell in my mind that said otherwise, I couldn’t shake the feeling that, while I knew he was danger personified…he might, just might, also be my safety, too.

Normal people look at me. They see the surface of me, the appealing outer shell. They never delve any deeper. But you…your eyes probe and they search. It feels fucking real when you look at me. After thirty seven years of being admire and coveted because of the way my genetics predetermined what my features would look like, it’s refreshing to be fucking see, Sera.

I’m your addiction, just as much as you’re mine. I’m toxic for you. I know that. If I were a better man, I’d let you go. But I’m not.

[...]if you are hoping to damage opponents' mental health, go ahead and tell them how inferior or dim-witted or nasty they are. But even if you are certifiably right on every point, you should not think for a minute that you will ever be able to persuade them. Name-calling will make you an enemy, not an ally, and if that is your objective, then persuasion is probably not what you were after in the first place.

But they all make sense. As we navigate the world, nasty shit happens. The brain stores info about the nasty shit to try to avoid it in the future.

The universe was a nasty ass bitch who loved to mess with me. Because not only was Hutch here, but he was still freaking gorgeous.

They go in slowly and carefully, covering each other. Parks drops down on one knee, rifle set to full auto, ready to do a kneecapping sweep. Gallagher gets out his torch and shines it into the corners of the room. Which is empty. Clean. Nothing for anyone to hide behind, and no scope at all for nasty surprises. “All good,” Parks mutters. “Okay, this will do just fine. Go get them.” Gallagher shepherds the civilians inside and Parks shuts the door, the lock now fully engaged so it closes with a solid click. The civilians are less enthusiastic than Parks was when they see the confined space and inhale its stale, spent air, but they’re not inclined to mount much of an argument. Truth is, the two women aren’t used to keeping up a quick march, and none of them–including Parks himself, unless you go back a while–are used to being outside of a fence as night comes on. They’re freaked and exhausted and starting at shadows. So is he, except that he does his freaking and starting mostly inside, so it doesn’t notice as much. The only sticking point is the girl, which comes as no surprise. Parks suggests that she sleep in the church, and Justineau countersuggests that Parks go fuck himself. “Same point as before,” she tells him, getting all pissed off again, which he’s thinking now is pretty much Justineau’s default setting. And truth to tell, he likes it a lot. If you’re going to let yourself feel anything at all, anger’s better than most of the alternatives. “Even if hungries were the only threat here,” she’s saying now, “all of this–all of it–is as strange to Melanie as it is to us. And as scary. We can’t leave her tied up in an empty building by herself all night.” “Then stay out there with her,” Parks says. Which

Let's be fucking make-believe together.

I have been told by many that their life is wonderful, that life’s a game, but it’s not fair, I break the rules, so I don’t care! That it is thrilling to be part of the freaking world of butt holes. I got news for you; I did want all that. I have been tooled, that dying you see the light too, along with the flashing by of your stupid pathetic life. Yet, at least I had a stupid pathetic life. Just like my great-grandma Nevaeh Natalie, grandmother Jaylynn, and my freaked-up mother Kristen, oh, and also my dad, and mom said- ‘she was born on May 12, 2001.’ She had me later on in life to another freakier she’s even more freaked up than my step-monster, after Brandon my real dad passed from something that I cannot protonate, I don’t want to talk about it- finding out how she left him, for someone else other than him, which she said she would happen or never- ever do. He ended it… Besides, that was it… I am not saying more; I do not want to… I don’t freaking have to. Freak that crap in the butt! Yet sometimes, I feel like such a steep child, yet in a way that is just what I am. However, my daddy loves me anyway, yet my little sis is their biological child. I was adopted before they realized that freaking one another in the old-school hallways would not work for them, anyway, it would not be long until she gets knocked up, with my pain in the butt sister Kellie. When she dropped out. I never really knew my real dad; my dad was always the one that was everything to me. Yet my mom is the monster, and I the mutant, (E-ugh! She said- ‘When she saw me as a baby girl in the nursery.’) However, she felt that way about me since day one, and I feel the same, damn- yes, the same way the same damn way. It was a new day… that fell to me… to me if you think about it; I have always been falling. Honestly, I thought that someday, ‘I would do wonder and crap cucumbers.’ Never truly pondering my last moments on this gray-green dying plant, we call earth. Looking over those visions from my past, my mind seems rather dreadful, nasty, and bleak. Just plan sadly really. Lonely in my memories, I felt that nearly if not all things would have improved if it was just covered up, covered over, and forgotten about completely in sixth grade. A failure to recall if you do well. That would be awesome.

My day just splits again, and I am at the table sitting with the girls, Jenny is hearing me say all this… I am saying at lunch to all of them not leaving out one gross detail- and Jenny said- ‘Damn I have loaded in my undies right now just leasing to this crap.’ Liv and Maddie are kissing like to ribbed- hot- b*tch dogs in heat over it, so yeah, it's hot. I said- ‘I am coming – OH-hh-Aaa- UM-mmm-COME-meeting!!!’ So loud that I know that the rooms in the apartments could hear me, one even said back to my god- yet Miss Wilddickersion is eighty-eight I know who you are… a girl over there, rolled my eyes feeling so award.’ I am so going to hell for this- I said out loud. Do you ever look back over the crap you say, and say what the freak was I thinking? I just had the thought of this crap I am saying. Jenny said- nope not really- my dad hears me coming all the time so- like last night he said- ‘Stop it! You’re going to go throw your bedroom floor girl, and it’s four in the morning! ‘Yet I hear their freaking headboard hitting my wall- but- but that’s okay?’ I said about to have the old b*tch over in the next apart room there getting off too- ‘We all do’ -said Maddie and Olivia. Have you ever had the cops come, over that crap? Jenny said- ‘Well- freak know- Maybe…? I’ve done an officer here at the school, said Jenny proudly, so the whole cafeteria could hear her. Hey- Jenny- no one cares to hear about you being a slutty ho,’ Said- Marcel, yelling it at a table or two away. Maddie- ‘So was it that good?’ ‘It’s good under the hood.’ Said Maddie, I said the same thing too, in a different way, I said- ‘If you know what you’re doing down there.’ Jenny- ‘I- am- the- one that showed you-you b*tch, and your sis too.’ It’s all good! I speak! Not sure if I am going to keep my nasty pizza down at this point really, I don’t want to have thoughts played around in my mind freaking and fingering my brain. I put my feet up all girly and per-die on the table, and he sits accused from me to check me out so why not give him what he wants, and I don’t give a crap if I am in a skirt, I spread them out sloughing like a dude, and Marcel turns bright red, I want him to see that, I was not wearing annoying underneath I know that someone took a picture of my p*ssy and all of his freaked-up face- yep jaw-dropping moments, good thing I shaved it! The teaching that was looking over us freaking fainted at the sight of my va-jay-jay, is that a good thing? Oliva was saying please don’t fart- please don’t fart- she had the set on the other side of me, yet she was all pressed up to Maddie, so I knew he could see all of this- YOU-NO! I said- ‘Dude shut up! You’re freaking me over, and I put my one hand down between my legs, and start to play with myself, caressing it all around, sometimes up and down or in a little circular pattern, making lots of sounds. I even put my long fingers down inside and feel all the wetness and wroth, and I hear voices coming out of me, so he could see the come on my fingers unstop of my dark purple nail polish, and I come right in front of everyone, but it was only for him to see.’ Jenny- ‘do I see a d*ick; you need one to freak that p*ssy? I said- ‘Nah- dude that’s just my heart throbbing clit, and I get written up by another old b*tch teach, that must have a hairy one, or something like that- she has always been up against my ass hole.’ ‘Sometimes you are as blunt as the butt end of a fork, freaking strapping you in the one boob!’ said- Oliva. I see Marcel in the lunch line making a cute almost kiss-ie face at me, and I rankle up my nose and turn my head off to the right side and shake it in a short fast yet deliberate quiver. I walk up to where more than friends and at this point, I hug him and the cafeteria gaps, he kisses me in front of everyone, and I look up before walking and saying with flirty eyes- (You’re such a weirdo!)

You just told me you’d never baby me,” she said softly. “I can see what you’re thinking. I’m not broken. I’m not a bird with an injured wing. I have a past, and it’s tricky, and it often visits me in my dreams, but I’m still kicking ass, Fix. So…if you want me, try and take me. I’ll kick your ass if I don’t want your hands on me.

It was too early to tell her how alive she made me feel, so I nursed the words I might have said to her in my chest, harboring them there, keeping them safe.

Don’t move. Don’t breathe. Just get on your knees and open your goddamn mouth.

Happiness was a byproduct of embracing your own flaws, your insecurities, and your desires.

I assume nothing. I know I’m good in bed. I know I can make you come, and I take great fucking pleasure in doing it. You’re the only woman I’m interested in pleasing, Sera, which means my attention, and my dick, are solely devoted to giving you the most earth shattering orgasms possible. That makes you a lucky girl.

Every day brings me new evidence that women, by and large, do not like themselves very much: their ambition gaps, their orgasm gaps, their impostor syndromes, their poor body images, their endless variety of real or perceived failures, including their failures to feel good about who and what they are. Their trainwrecks, and their need for trainwrecks; the enduring, self-loathing need to find someone about whom they can say well, at least I’m not that girl. But, in the context of trainwreck media, a female self-confidence gap is not only predictable, it’s practically unavoidable. We can’t spend twelve hours a day mainlining ideas of sexual or emotional or aging or ill women as monsters, messes, and freaks, then expect to wake up feeling beautiful and confident in the morning. Every “ugly” photo of Amy Winehouse, every nasty word typed about Azealia Banks in a comment section, is going to come back the next time we’re vulnerable, and take yet another chunk out of our ability to believe that we can screw up and still be basically worthwhile.

When I turned around, he was naked, his body a towering wall of effortless muscle. Fuck, he was beyond sexy. Fix fully dressed was a sight to behold. Fix naked was an altar to be worshipped at. He was more than just a man. He was a god, a deity in his own right. And I was devout as I revered him.