Overthinking in Style.

Actively Reading: Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens, Graceling by Kristin Cashore

Queued For Reading: The Robber Bride by Margaret Atwood, Everything is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer, Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes, Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri

Currently Watching: Semisuccessful Nostalgia Experiment Meets World, Fargo, Zankyou no Terror

Ask Me Something

Adam Parrish was lonesome.

There is no good word for the opposite of lonesome. One might be tempted to suggest togetherness or contentment, but the fact that these two other words bear definitions unrelated to each other perfectly displays why lonesome cannot be properly mirrored. It does not mean solitude, nor alone, nor lonely, although lonesome can contain all of those words in itself.

Lonesome means a state of being apart. Of being other.

In the slightly improved light, Adam saw dustless trails leading from the desk to an office chair by the wall. A blanket — not dusty — nested on the chair, and it was not difficult to imagine the shape of a young man sleeping in it. There was something unexpectedly lonely about the image.


Adam imagined it then: Ronan waking in Monmouth Manufacturing, a dream object clutched in his hands, wasps crawling in his bedsheets, Gansey unaware in the other room. 

No, he could not dream wildly in Monmouth.



Adam wasn’t sure what he was supposed to see. He felt nothing , nothing, nothing — ah, but there it was. The cow’s pulse had accelerated fractionally. Again, he imagined Ronan here on his own, so hopeful for a change that he would have noted such a subtle difference. It was far more dedication than he had thought Ronan Lynch capable of.



“I was three. What did I know?” Ronan turned away, lashes low over his eyes, expression hidden, burdened by being born, not made.


Ronan’s room was forbidden, but she looked inside anyway. His raven’s cage sat with its door ajar, impeccably and incongruously clean. His room was filled not so much with filth, but clutter: shovels and swords leaned in the corners, speakers and printers piled by the wall. And bizarre objects in between: an old suitcase with vines trailing out of it, a potted tree that seemed to be humming to itself, a single cowboy boot in the middle of the floor. A mask hung on the wall, eyes wide, mouth gaping. It was blackened, as if by fire, and the edges were badly bitten, as if be a saw. Something that looked suspiciously like a tire track ran over one of its eyes.
- The mask made Blue think of words like ‘survivor’ and ‘destroyer’.

'I'm tired of it,' Noah said.

'Tired of what?' Gansey asked, voice kind.


- Maggie Stiefvater, Blue Lily, Lily Blue
Violence was a disease Gansey didn’t think he could catch.
- But all around him, his friends were slowly infected.
… what she didn’t realize about Blue and her boys was that they were all in love with one another. She was no less obsessed with them than they were with her, or one another, analyzing every conversation and gesture, drawing out every joke into a longer and longer running gag, spending each moment either with one another or thinking about when next they would be with one another.
- Blue was perfectly aware that it was possible to have a friendship that wasn’t all-encompassing, that wasn’t blinding, deafening, maddening, quickening. It was just that now that she’d had this kind, she didn’t want the other.
Ronan took Adam to the Barns.
- Adam wanted to ask what it was that Ronan had been doing at the Barns all of these days and evenings, but he didn’t press. The Barns was Ronan’s family business, and family was private.
What was a kiss without a kiss? It was a table cloth tugged from beneath a party service. Everything jumbled against everything else in just a few chaotic movements. Fingers in hair, hands cupping necks, mouths dragged on cheeks and chins in dangerous proximity.
- She couldn’t tell if it was very late or if it had become very early.





magpie-x said: It really felt to me that Henry and Ronan were flirting and, yep, that’s totally how I saw the whole Adam reaction.

I’m not sure I agree it was flirting (particularly when you compare it to what Adam and Ronan do in the same scenes) but you’re definitely not the only person to think that.

I think it may have been more that Henry was trying to flirt with Ronan. Though I’m not sure. I think Henry was just flirting in general.

The last feels most right for me, if I had to pick. Henry just seems like that kind of spastic to me? I picture him all waggly fingers and skinny ties, if that makes sense, and it’s hard for me to really make a call beyond that.

Ronan though just does not strike me as a casual flirter, given his general stance on relationships.

You know, now that I stop to think of it, I feel like it was more Adam and Ronan being couple-ish and bonding over Henry in their own private language.

Like, “can you believe him?”

I also very much agree with this.

She was going to hell, she had the straight-line to spiritual nirvana. Her mother was a hack, her mother was a witch. Blue dressed like a hobo, Blue dressed like a fashion mogul. She was untouchably hilarious, she was a friendless bitch.
- It had fallen into monotonous background noise.