Savage Short Aesthetic Quotes Novels & Stories

" a woman, who clearly had gone under the knife before, exclaimed snarkily. Upon hearing her insults, Sage's smile faded away instantly. She shot a cool glance in the woman's direction afterward. "It's fine if you're mocking me, but going so far as to insult me? That's not something you should do. Take this for example. It's perfectly okay for someone to comment about your artificial beauty. But they can't mock you for going through plastic surgery just to conceal your ugly nature." "Are you calling me ugly?" the woman screeched while shooting up to her feet in an instant. She looked like she was ready to tear into Sage at any given moment.

134. HEA: The Savage Alpha claimed his Rebel Last Chapter Jade's POV Inching his face up, he bruised my collarbone with a red bite as his devilish eyes dared me to moan. Bloody Asshole Alpha. He was challenging me. I wouldn't mind doing it, but I was afraid he would really open the door. Zach could do it. He's done many things he said before and I was not stupid that I would try it just to see how it would really end up if I moaned.

'All this resentment, gloating, petty and anger are delicious to me, I don’t mind standing here enjoying the show wile bathing on these various emotions, it’s the same to those who have sun bath or relaxing in some spa'. 'sigh...But that woman! even a senseless thing like me, still enjoy her weathering beauty that is socked with blood and scars, forming a kind of tragedy yet stunning painting that is full of agony and life by her struggle to keep her little breath going subconsciously even if she show to the public her resignation in frond of death that his image I stole '.

The girl, probably called Sades, starts, "I was so. Fucking. Close! But the guys who assaulted Georgia are on that same street like we are destined to meet, and shit and, well, hell breaks loose! If I got to be honest, I'd rather die in a trash container than be assaulted by them. I, myself, am self-certified trash, and I just met my cousins." "Well, if I got to be honest," The guy beside me, the one with the hoodie, jumped into the conversation. "I can imagine you talking to the trash bags." "Because I do?" Sades said. "You don't have to imagine shit, Austin. Imagining leads to you not knowing me that well. Instead, you should just think I do it." "Yeah, Aust! You don't know shit about Sadi

"Didn't you know that one needs to reshuffle their daily routine once you get nails? Not every little thing is done the same and you shouldn't do anything aggressively." "I was making the bed," Anelia deadpanned. "And I just happened to stub my finger on the base and it hurt so bad. And that's why I will never forget that Christmas." "Beauty is pain. And women just have to grow through it," she shrugged. "There should be a quote about that." "I thought there was no beauty without happiness. I think Christian Dior said that." "We could go at this the whole day but quotes are just someone's thoughts and perspectives. And for all I know, we all have different shades of those, so I guess everyon

I countered. "Let’s quit the hypocrisy," Asher stated, his bluntness cutting through the air like a blade. "Do you have any other ideas to stop people from dying for a conflict they didn't start? They died in the past, they are dying now, and the body count will only rise unless we set things right. If we don't act, we will all end up dead." He was correct, yet I was stunned. Asher had never been a man of such cold pragmatism. I looked at him and wondered how the horrors of the past year had reshaped us—turning our compassion into survivalism and our bonds into burdens.

“It’s meant to look like rogues. It’s a smokescreen. Someone—something—wants us chasing our tails while they move in the shadows.” Lucia let out a soft laugh, leaning back in her chair. “Or maybe you’ve been reading too many spy novels. Rogues are rogues. Savage, bloodthirsty, and incapable of anything resembling a plan. End of story.” Erika watched the exchange, her chest tightening as the word "savage" lingered in the air. She thought of the nomadic rogues her parents had welcomed in Black Lake. They had been tough, yes, but also kind in their own way. Her mother’s words echoed in her mind: “One’s blood does not make a person good or bad—it’s the purity of one’s heart that matters.”

“Come on, it’s not that bad. It’s your perfect escape. These people don’t deserve you. Why not go where you’d be welcomed and maybe even cherished?” I scoffed. “That Academy? Where everyone’s obsessed with orgies and threesomes?” “Didn’t you say you liked it hard?” I groaned. That was one of those things I’d stupidly said once—just to sound tough. I had ash-blonde hair with purple and pink streaks. Always wore dark eyeliner. Multiple piercings. Cross and butterfly tattoos scattered over my skin. I didn’t do girly. I didn’t wear color. I was always in black, always found with bikers and rogues, clubbing till sunrise, drinking like my liver signed a waiver.

“Humans speak of lost innocence, deflowered by the cold hand of fate. But what if you wound yourself? Is it so sick, to cut your skin and dream of seeing the viscera beneath, to want to know the darkest parts of you? To own your suffering.” “Yes! You need a doctor. That, a shrink, and a nice long vacation from Reaping.” Bile rose in my throat. “Oh, Samael. Dear mother of god. You've disgusted me before, but this? This is...” I couldn't find the words to convey my disgust. “Why would you do that?” “I was in shadow too long.” “Then go to Hawaii. Don't mutilate yourself-”

They were actually entertaining this. “You guys are insane,” I muttered, “Completely, absolutely, certifiably insane.” “You need to be taught a lesson, Elara. So you never think of running again.” Lucien's voice was deep. “I didn’t run!” I snapped. “Thinking is not doing! That’s like arresting someone for dreaming they robbed a bank!” Lucien’s voice came low and sharp. “Drop the attitude. It won’t do you any good.” “Don’t worry, darling. We won’t hurt you.” Caelum added.