#goblin

Hunter, you can’t seriously be the Goblin King. You’re not even sixteen yet! I had to give you a ride to the store after school in September when we were getting supplies for Homecoming decorations! ↗

— K.M. Shea

#goblins #life

Evening by evening Among the Brookside rushes, Laura bow'd her head to hear, Lizzie veil'd her blushes: Crouching close together In the cooling weather, With clasping arms and cautioning lips, With tingling cheeks and fingertips. "lie close," Laura said, Pricking up her golden head: "We must not look at Goblin men, We must not buy their fruits: who knows upon the soil they fed Their hungry thirsty roots?" "Come buy," call the Goblins Hobbling down the glen ↗

— Christina Rossetti

#goblin-market #poems #men

We must not look at goblin men, We must not buy their fruits: Who knows upon what soil they fed Their hungry thirsty roots? ↗

— Christina Rossetti

#goblin #market #rossetti #men

Ames clucked his tongue, “You know, not all of us are so evil minded. You’ve just met the wrong ones.” He meant guys. “You’re all the same.” I should know. “Not all of us,” he said too soft but I heard. “But judgment before proven can eat one up with anger. Sometimes you just have to take a chance. Trust someone. ↗

— Cyndi Goodgame

#goblins #men #ya #anger

The goblins want girls who dream so hard about being pretty their yearning leaves a palpable trail, a scent goblins can follow like sharks on a soft bloom of blood. The girls with hungry eyes who pray each night to wake up as someone else. Urgent, unkissed, wishful girls. Like Kizzy. ↗

— Laini Taylor

#dreams

She could smell the boy spice beneath the thrift-store aroma of his jacket, and the rubbing and the smell began to work to soften her -- like butter before you add sugar, in the first steps of making something sweet. It was her first experience of how bodies could meld together, how breath could slip naturally into rhythm. It was hypnotic. Heady. And she wanted more. ↗

— Laini Taylor

#experience