personal, Uncategorized

see you on the streets

They told me that growing up with mental illness can affect how you view the world as an adult; the smallest acts of bravery, of cunning, of strength can leave someone tormented by their own demons a little breathless.

In my opinion, it makes people like me, who struggle to find sleep over the sound of doubt, more able to see small pieces of magic woven into the thread of my life.

Here’s a secret: I firmly believe there is something magical about cars, especially my car. When I saw it, after weeks of back-and-forth with the dealership, I knew something was so strangely me about that car, I needed to drive it. Since leaving the lot with the keys in my hand, I have given my black Nissan Juke the name Regulus Kavinsky. Tomorrow, I go to the DMV to pick up my custom license plates with GRYWRN in Tahoe blue letters.

I have always been weirdly attached to the things that I drive; I have given them all names and cooed to them lovingly from the driver’s seat. My first car, a forest green 2002 Jeep Cherokee was called Bessie. I taped a sheet of paper with rules to the dashboard in order to give passengers ample heads up that I wouldn’t tolerate being treated like a taxi, a trash can, or given any bullshit about my driving.

The last car I drove before Kavinsky was a silver Ford Explorer, nicknamed Smeagol – I always imagined that if that fucking monstrosity could speak, it would be a horrible, wretched noise. I punched the radio hard enough to break my skin and damage the screen.

Kavinsky, on the other hand, is much less aggravating. There is a sensation that I get when I top one-hundred miles per hour in that car, switching between manual and automatic seamlessly. It’s an emptiness in my chest, a void where the sadness and anger usually sit like scavengers waiting for prey. I drove out to a lake last night, a lake filled with ley lines and irate spirits. Kavinsky was immobilized by the thin sand and my sister pushed him out while my feet were introducing the floor to the gas pedal. He is now coated with a layer of pale Nevada dust and my anxiety sits in the passenger seat in place of a shrewd Scorpio woman.

“Your car has tattoos, just like you,” my dad had said when I showed him around. My car is an extension of myself. A heart outside my own body. There is a large green Slytherin vinyl on the back window, surrounded carefully by Latin words, song lyrics, and Ouija planchettes. I have stored maps in the glove box and emergency kits in the trunk because there is always time to seek adventure or to be a menace. My camera, Dick III, anticipates trips to graveyards and tattoos shops from his seat in the back. My fur-child has left herself all over Kavinsky, as well – there are window markings and enough hair to assemble another dog.

Johnny Cash and Imagine Dragons and Kurt Cobain come with me on coffee runs. The scent of autumn and hemp leaves permeate the seats, a residual scent from either my fingertips or my soul. There are books, stacks and stacks of books, and headphones scattered throughout the interior.  I sit and whisper away, away, away as I go, with tears streaming down my face and shaking hands on the wheel. The deterioration of my control is a devil on my shoulder, a blessing and a curse. I carry crystals in the doors and tarot cards in my purse. A large white text saying “Go Smudge Yourself” warns other drivers that I carry the power of the dead and the moon under the circles beneath my eyes.

My godmother has the same car and I tell her secrets while we color my hair black to match my wardrobe and Kavinsky’s paint. There is a ballad written about him, dedicated by a tenant above my work who was sworn into my servitude in exchange for leaving an inch long, unseeable scrape on the left-hand side. I was, surprisingly, never mad about that incident – because now I have a friend who writes songs about my car and I am almost always covered in bruises and scrapes; it would make sense that Kavinsky would need some, too.

A car is a second home. A car is just a moving piece of magic.


That’s all there is,

The Book Witch



We Are Okay Review + Birthday Shenanigans

Sup, mofos.

My 22nd birthday was yesterday so I’ve been super busy in anticipation of that particular event. For those of you wondering, I went to a Death Cab for Cutie concert on Thursday night AND IT WAS MAGICAL AS FUCK. I’ve been to concerts before and I really enjoyed them. I’m a music-oriented person. Nine out of ten times I’m going to remember something in terms of what songs were playing or what songs were popular at that period of my life. So, concerts are a good place for me. Being introverted has its drawbacks in the sense of really, really hating fucking crowds but I’m also a super aggressive and angry introvert and that balances me out a bit. Anyway, it was magical. It was one of those times when you get goosebumps because suddenly everyone is singing along to a song that you used to fall asleep to and the nostalgia is tangible. I was amazed at how alive I felt during the concert and my friend that took me (an early birthday present, bless her) was just as stoked, which was awesome. I hella started tearing up during Soul Meets Body but it’s okay, we don’t have to talk about that. The moral of the story is that I am now a concert junkie – look out world, I just gained another tier of Crazy.

On my actual Womb Evacuation Anniversary, I spent the day getting completely fucking wrecked with my soul sister who happens to also have the same Womb Evacuation Anniversary. Jason has the stomach flu, though, so I had to cut my 10-hour drinking spree short. St. Paddy’s is such a fantastic day to be of legal drinking age and have a birthday because the amount of whiskey that one consumes is completely justifiable by saying “FUCK IT I’M IRISH”. I have definitely decided that I need to permanently ingrain my day of birth into my flesh by getting a Celtic tattoo. Sue me, I like body art.

A lot.

Okay, so here comes the nerdy part. I had a fucking amazing couple of days and then the bookish gifts started flooding in. I got my March package from my pen pal and she picked out some seriously rad looking reads for my library (because she’s a Virgo and I collect Virgos because they understand me). My incredibly sweet Uncle Grapes (it’s a long story, it’s fine. Everything is fine) sent me some money so I went straight to Barnes & Noble. I even got a year membership! No self-control! Also, for someone who has such immense tolerance for physical pain and alcohol, I sure don’t have any tolerance for people or expensive books. My boss (also a Virgo, I was not kidding when I say I collect them) found me amethyst bookends. She remembered that I saw them a few months back and didn’t feel like splurging so she went ahead and did me a solid. Here they are in their glorious and majestic as fuck nature.

book ends

They’re so pretty, I could just die.

So then, my mother-in-law presented me with a personal library kit and a book embosser. That’s right, I have a book embosser now. She got me a copy of The Scorpio Races because one can never have too much Stiefvater in their lives AND I EMBOSSED IT.

embosserlibrary kit


She used my fiance’s last name on the embosser and that made my cold, dead heart warm ever-so-slightly. I’m going to emboss everything I own and then if someone tries to run away with one of my precious babies I will hunt them down and emboss them, too.

Anyway, here’s a little snippet of my thoughts regarding We Are Okay (by Nina Lacour)

  • I read Hold Still a few years ago and really, really liked it so I expected the same kind of enjoyment from We Are Okay 
  • LBGT characters? Yes! Sign me THE FUCK UP. Gimme all the representation, all of it. 
  • It was a little tricky to get into, the story starts off pretty timid and vague but once I was in, oh boy, was I in.
  • Marin is extremely relatable; her grief is so realistic there were times that I thought I could hold it…if I was careful
  • The character development is astouding  – for real, some of the best CD I’ve ever read. You go from being like “Okay, what’s going on, send help” to being like “Something very profound just happened and I think I missed it because I was too busy watching these people unfold”
  • THE PLOT TWIST IS THE WORST THING EVER. Like okay, Nina. We get it, you like crushing people like ants under your feet but this is cool, too. There will be no spoilers ahead but I can tell you that the thing was revealed and I had to reread it because it was so unexpected.
  • It had a lovely nostalgic feel to it. There was such delicious descriptive language. It felt like road trips and Christmas and beach trips all rolled into a delightful little package of soul-crushing sadness.


I give it a solid 8/10 and highly recommend it for fans of contemporary fiction or who need to feel understood.

I also finished Anna Kendrick’s autobiography. It was good, I’m not a huge fan of biographies but I powered through it because I have a huge crush on her. It’s okay, I read her book. We’re friends now. You can definitely tell where she starts to get more confident in her story because she switches from objective storytelling to snarky asshole over the span of a couple pages. I’m just glad I finished it, to be honest. Her humor was so on point but I truly hate stories of Hollywood and fame. I detest them.

I am now looking for a new audiobook and trying to get through Truthwitch which is becoming better, the further I get into it.

I’ll talk to you guys when I’m done with my vacation so I hope you have a lovely week.

That’s all there is,

The Book Witch



How We Find Ourselves In Books

For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why I was so drawn to the characters in the Raven Cycle series, especially Ronan or Kavinsky. They’re so contradictory and prickly, what could I possibly see in them, especially Ronan? 

Well, my friends, the mystery is solved: it’s because I, small and hateful angry bean, AM RONAN LYNCH. 

For the love of fuck, look at this shit!


I dress like that on accident, man! That is an actual face that I make at other human beings. (I’m the one on the left, by the way. I know some of you probably didn’t know that)

How many times have we fallen in love with a book or a series because we resonate so closely with the characters? I’ve been devoured by these books, turned completely inside out, chewed up, and spit back out. It’s like looking into a mirror and seeing yourself in typewriter font.

For example, here is the List of Things That I Have In Common With Ronan Lynch Because I Need More Reasons To Stay Awake At Night 

  • trust fund babies
  • literally, we’re just privileged assholes with no verbal filters
  • my birthday falls on St. Patricks’ Day aka the Irish Day; Ronan is Irish af
  • taste in music that everyone fucking hates
  • don’t talk to us when we have headphones on, don’t touch our tattoos
  • give us a something fast and we’re happy
  • or, give us music and alcohol and we’ll be restless but better
  • we both lost parents and turned into bitter douche canoes
  • we will both end your life if you fuck with our baby brothers
  • or our friends
  • fucking with my friends is a sure-fire way to get your life ended
  • wear black and keep our resting bitch faces on point but are really full of feelings
  • a LOT of feelings
  • both think our boyfriends are some sort of godlike angel when in reality we are dating huge nerds
  • super sensitive to all things. don’t deny that Ronan Lynch is a sensitive mofo, he literally won’t let Gansey boy make other friends
  • both of us have had Kavinskys in our lives; we ended up not being with them because they were toxic af and would’ve ruined our shit
  • love our dads very much
  • treat our pets like children
  • like no friends but really fond of the ones we have
  • beings of rage and love
  • raised on a farm
  • raised Catholic AF
  • hates most things, including ourselves
  • is either dropping the F-bomb, flipping you off or being sarcastic
  • actual trophy wives
  • would rather die than hurt someone we love
  • PTSD, depression, and anxiety up the wazooo

There’s more, a lot more, but that’s the general gist of my argument. We fall so hard for these characters because we see ourselves in them. We love them when we cannot love our own souls. They are catalysts to the breaking of our hearts and the slow, aching awareness that brings us back to wholeness. The characters we love are constellations in the galaxies that reside in our bones.

I am so elated to be made up of these beings, these people that I will never meet. Their presence forces me to stop and remember my gushing affection or them and that reminds me to love myself, as well. The cycle is continuous and beautiful and my gratitude for the writers who penned the puzzle pieces of who I am is infinite.

I did actually pick up reading again – my book hangover has subsided a bit. I’m currently listening to We Are Okay by Nina LaCour and reading The Young Wives Club by Julie Pennel. I heard that you kind of need to force yourself to read again and that it really helps to pick something in a completely different genre. So, I guess I’ll read other books until my Dream Theif trilogy arrives. I GUESS.

In the meantime, I have my gorgeous new tarot cards, drawn by my Scorpio soulmate Maggie Stiefvater herself to work with. My favorite part of these cards is the accompanying book that comes with them – the translations are witty as hell. Its hard to find cards with translations that you actually resonate with! I swear this is a problem in the cartomancy community!


I actually had dreams about ghosts and my cousin last night but the best part was that she greeted me with a Jersey accent, mimicking my problematic son Joseph Kavinsky, and said “DICK GANNNSSSSAAAAAY THE THIRD!!”. It was such a calming sensation, hearing a 17-year-old drug  Bulgarian  drug addict mobster’s voice come out of my 21-year-old, and very female, cousin’s voice box. I’m not kidding, I woke up and I was like “So this is how the pieces fall together”

I hope everyone has a book character that they love so much it causes them physical pain. I know that I have several, because life is a fucking nightmare. 

That’s all there is,

Carry on

The Book Witch


The Book Witch’s Book Challenge

Hello, friends!

I thought it would be a rad idea to share my 2017 Book Challenge with you. I’m trying to read 60 books this year, which is a low number for me, but with all my other shit going on, it’s been hard to find the time to read. As a way to reach my goal with less anxiety, I wrote my own Book Challenge so that I can check off certain prompts and premises as I go along.

Feel free to add or remove your own in accordance to your interests, I tried to keep things relatively broad; let me know if you check anything off your reading list using this challenge!

  • A nonfiction book
  • A book published in the last year (pretty sure I’ll be checking this off with The Bone Witch or A Court of Wings and Ruin)
  • A book by someone who isn’t an author (I’m like 1/2 way through Anna Kendrick’s autobiography and it’s super funny)
  • A recommendation (I will be getting to Garth Nix’s Abhorsen trilogy…I’m so sorry it took me a year, Megan.
  • An award winning book (I’m looking at you Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe) 
  • A book with a one-word title
  • A book with a number in the title (I’M DOING THIS ONE RIGHT NOW)
  • A book on your TBR (if this prompt seems like it crawled up from a hole of chaos and despair, that’s because it did. Surprise!)
  • a book about / based around mythology (Wanted: Hades & Persephone smut)
  • a book about food
  • a book you bought on a trip (Fun fact: I bought Red Queen on a trip to Carmel and I’m starting a read-along with a Facebook group on February 1st! If anyone needs more incentive to read, let me know and I’d be happy to start a book-club)
  • a book with a pseudonym
  • a book about the ocean
  • a book of poetry
  • a book about best friends
  • a thriller


It’s more for when I hit a book slump and need a boost. Checking things off of lists is one way I can always ensure my motivation. I figure when I check all of these off, I can rewrite another list… and another… and another… If you have any suggestions or you plan on using this as a guideline, let me know! I always have recommendations for those of us who need more of an excuse to buy books.

Speaking of buying books… I did a thing. Hint: I bought books.

I jumped on that Coleen Hoover bandwagon and everyone has been telling me to read Truthwitch because it’s similar to ToG; I finished the third book in that series yesterday and my life is in shambles. I got Shade Me because its about synethsia, which I have, and its a thriller. Playlist for the Dead sounds sad as fuck and has a musical premise, which is one of my favorite things ever. 

I heard back about my laptop today, there’s no estimate for when it will be back BUT I don’t have to pay for the replacement parts because of warranties, yay!

Soon, I’ll be able to upload pictures from my big girl camera.

I hope everyone has a great weekend.

Carry on,

The Book Witch


Day 10: Anna Dressed in Blood (30 Days of Book Reviews)

Hello daaaaarlings! I have been fairly busy, practicing handwriting for my bullet journal and getting my nails did.


Here are my Donia / Winter Court inspired nails. I am so excited! The length is all natural nail, be proud of me – that shit takes patience.

Today, I discovered RedBubble – which has all the wonderful nerdy things and my laptop is about to look like a terrible assimilation of my fandoms. I know there are purists out there who think that stickers don’t belong on laptops, but I am not one of them and stickers belong on everything.

Let’s talk about some super spooky shit, shall we? bookwitch-annaanna

Yes, it is exactly as it sounds.


Cas Lowood has inherited an unusual vocation: He kills the dead.

So did his father before him, until he was gruesomely murdered by a ghost he sought to kill. Now, armed with his father’s mysterious and deadly athame, Cas travels the country with his kitchen-witch mother and their spirit-sniffing cat. They follow legends and local lore, destroy the murderous dead, and keep pesky things like the future and friends at bay.

Searching for a ghost the locals call Anna Dressed in Blood, Cas expects the usual: track, hunt, kill. What he finds instead is a girl entangled in curses and rage, a ghost like he’s never faced before. She still wears the dress she wore on the day of her brutal murder in 1958: once white, now stained red and dripping with blood. Since her death, Anna has killed any and every person who has dared to step into the deserted Victorian she used to call home.

Yet she spares Cas’s life.

Overall: 9/10

Plot: It’s amazing. It’s scary as fuck, it’s beautifully written. Kendare Blake kills it with her writing style. Every book that I’ve read by her is devious and enticing. I had nightmares after reading this book and I’m pretty picky with my YA horror books because I don’t usually like how they end up as “Oh girl lives in scary haunted house. But girl meet cute, popular boy?! Girl not scared anymore, boy fix house and girl with his penis. Much scary, many ghost, such cute, wow.” Stephen King meets Nicolas Sparks? No thanks, how about the girl kicks the ghost’s butt and then gives the boy a firm talking to on how he needs to mind his own business and stop rubbing his genitals on her house.

However, the romance in ADIB is on point. Mostly because the characters remain true to themselves (Cas slips a bit, but we can’t all be perfect) and the romance doesn’t become the center of the universe. It’s creepy and sweet at the same time. I’m weird, ask anyone. I strongly recommend reading this if you like to be spooked and also like to be wooed a little. Cas is adorable, let’s be honest. PLUS HOW CAN YOU AVOID A CREEPY ASS BOOK ABOUT AN URBAN LEGEND CAUSE I KNOW THAT I CAN’T?!

Characters: Okay, so Cas is basically a young Winchester and I love him – he’s like Sammy if Dean wasn’t around (I know, I know. Dean dies a lot, I know. I don’t wanna talk about it. Stop killing my babies and then bringing it up) His mom is a spiritual thug, and his friends are bad ass. And then there’s Anna, who’s dead as a door nail and is still like “Hey sorry, but the book is named after me, so like, you should back off.” She also has a feminine side, which is rad, because in the midst of dealing with the absolute nightmare of her house, she’s like “Oh shit, he’s cute. I’m dead but I ain’t dead, ifyouknowwhatimean” and then proceeds to be a strong female character. The characters have realist emotions and hopes and dreams and I want to give them all a hug. Maybe not all, but like, most of them.

Ending: Awe, guys. It hurts a bit. Not gonna lie. However, there is a second book so it’s cool. It’s not as bad as Forbidden or The Merciless but its not like Throne of Glass or Forest of Hands and Teeth either. It’s right there in the middle. Just go read the book if you want a good scare and to feel some feels over a dead girl and a junior Winchester.

Carry on,

The Book Witch




Day 9: Forbidden (30 Days of Book Reviews)


I got fandom tea and Harry Potter bookmarks in the mail today and I screamed from joy .Some stories really do stay with us forever, prompting us to get all the ridiculous (or should I say ridikkulus? Sorry, sorry. I had to) merch we can get our hands on.  I also discovered the magical land of “Book Outlet”; thanks guys, so much, for not warning me about that website. I’ve seen so many pictures of people getting massive amounts of books from Book Outlet and being like “That’s a ton of money!” HAHA NO. WHY DID THEY ALLOW THAT WEBSITE TO BE CREATED.

Do you have a moment to talk about our lord and savior,  Sarah J Maas? I have a manicure appointment tomorrow (the salon I work at has the best nail artists) and I wanted to do something inspired by ToG and ACOTAR. I was thinking cyans, glitter, black, and plum – with moon and star accents on them. My nail girl is basically a magician – so I have faith that she will do it justice.

Today we’re covering a book that has some pretty extreme topics, so if you have PTSD or an aversion to sensitive issues, please come back tomorrow. I suffer from anxiety and OCD and I would be really sad if I came across a blog and one of their posts caused a panic attack. Please go listen to some happy music, put a kettle on, and take a warm bath. You are loved and appreciated. Your stress and feelings are valid, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.



She is pretty and talented – sweet sixteen and never been kissed. He is seventeen; gorgeous and on the brink of a bright future. And now they have fallen in love. But… they are brother and sister.

Seventeen-year-old Lochan and sixteen-year-old Maya have always felt more like friends than siblings. Together they have stepped in for their alcoholic, wayward mother to take care of their three younger siblings. As defacto parents to the little ones, Lochan and Maya have had to grow up fast. And the stress of their lives—and the way they understand each other so completely—has also brought them closer than two siblings would ordinarily be. So close, in fact, that they have fallen in love. Their clandestine romance quickly blooms into deep, desperate love. They know their relationship is wrong and cannot possibly continue. And yet, they cannot stop what feels so incredibly right. As the novel careens toward an explosive and shocking finale, only one thing is certain: a love this devastating has no happy ending.

Overall: I want to give it a -26/10 for how badly it broke me, but I guess we’ll just say 9/10

Plot: When I read the plot of this book, I was like “Oh no, I can’t possibly read that and feel any emotion but pure discomfort.” I was so wrong. So devastatingly wrong. This book took a sledgehammer to my heart and soul. It was like watching two trains collide and cry over the wreckage and destruction, even though you voluntarily saw the accident. It made me cry so many tears. Not even over what the poor kids are dealing with, grappling with their feelings for each other, but living with a completely abusive and terrible birth mother. No one should be able to write villains that good. She’s such an over-looked, every day horror. The real demons in our world are the ones who trick people into believing that they’re functioning members of society, while making the lives of children an absolute nightmare. It adds so much psychological intent to the story. Would Maya and Lochan have fallen in love if they didn’t have the mother as a factor? Who the fuck knows? It’s not me, I’m still processing how I felt after reading this book – over two years ago. Suzuma weaves a love story so beyond our normal scope of understanding that its hard not to root for Maya and Lochan. They go through absolute hell and back together and in a normal situation, that usually creates some sort of a special bond. I loved her writing style and how subtle the love between the two siblings was. You didn’t see any grand moments of profession – but rather, small moments of complete and total adoration. Of course, the two siblings can’t go around kissing or telling people about their relationship, which is another huge component of the book. It’s scandalous and heart-wrenching.

Characters: Lochan is amazing. He’s amazing as a father, brother, lover, and friend. He had moments where I was like “bruh” but he’s 16, falling for his sister, and the product of an alcoholic parent. Maya was awesome, too, but I felt more strongly for Lochan since he really carried the world on his shoulders and would’ve sacrificed anything for his family. They’re two completely lovable teenagers who have only felt true love with one another and that makes the book so damn hard. The mom, of course, is horrible. She should have been George R. Martin-ed off in the first two chapters. (I am not a fan of Game of Thrones because I know that man is a homicidal monster and I won’t be a part of his devious games)


Seriously, if you’re in a good place in your life and feel confident that you won’t have to miss work for a week after reading this book, you should read it. If you’re at a bad place and you need a good cry but can’t muster up the self-hatred, my friend, this is the book for you.

Carry on,

The Book Witch

By the way,  four more days until Netflix’s original A Series of Unfortunate Events comes out – starring the eighth love of my life, Neil Patrick Harris.



Day 2: A Court of Thorns and Roses / ACOMF (30 Days of Book Reviews)

Do you guys wanna hear my ideas for my candle scents? Of course, you do!

Draco Malfoy – Lemon, pine, & sandalwood

Carry On – Cherry scones & roses

Donia / Wicked Lovely – Lavender, mint, &  blackberry sage

I finally got around to writing my thank-you notes so now that I have that out of the way, I can order some scents and start cracking. It’s nice and snowy today so I scheduled a pedicure and have done like three adult things. I’m really nervous to make the next step in wedding planning and I’d much rather be throwing myself into creative hobbies and books.

Speaking of books, let’s get into one of my favorite series: A Court of Thorns and Roses / A Court of Mist and Fury. 



When nineteen-year-old huntress Feyre kills a wolf in the woods, a beast-like creature arrives to demand retribution for it. Dragged to a treacherous magical land she only knows about from legends, Feyre discovers that her captor is not an animal, but Tamlin—one of the lethal, immortal faeries who once ruled their world.

As she dwells on his estate, her feelings for Tamlin transform from icy hostility into a fiery passion that burns through every lie and warning she’s been told about the beautiful, dangerous world of the Fae. But an ancient, wicked shadow grows over the faerie lands, and Feyre must find a way to stop it . . . or doom Tamlin—and his world—forever.


Overall Rating: 11.5/10

Okay, so I’m reluctant to review this series because I’d really just like to talk about ACOMF, the second book. However, because I don’t believe in spoilers – I’ll just talk about the first one and then highly encourage you to read it so you can get on with your life and read the second. 

Plot: Guys, there’s hot fairies and a strong female character. I picked it up because its a retelling of Beauty and the Beast. I love a good retelling. Also, let me just say that the second book is a retelling of the Hades & Persephone myth WHICH IS 115% MY SHIT. UGH its so perfect. It makes me sick to my stomach with how perfect it is. It is exactly like Beauty and the Beast except the Beast is a fey and there’s politics and intrigue and sex. It’s an emotional roller coaster from start to finish because Maas is not one of those authors who guarantees a happy ending. I found myself loving this series because it reminded me so strongly of Wicked Lovely. If you like fey books that are based on Court systems, this is the series for you. If you love retellings where the main characters are intricate and badass as fuck, this series is for you.

Characters: LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT MY SWEET BABY, FEYRE. She’s such a strong character. She has been supporting her ungrateful family for years but surprise she’s actually a human being with human feelings and isn’t the happiest about being their bitch. I adore Feyre. She’s like Hermione Granger and Aelin Fireheart had a baby. She’s Belle, if Belle could hold her own in combat and was born to be a motherfucking queen. She is not a character that I would ever fight in a dark alley. Tamlin is well written, too. He’s a jerk but you can’t help but be like “He’s a hot jerk”. I hate Tamlin, but that’s a discussion for a later day. Honestly, it takes a really great story for a character to be so secretly horrendous that you sympathize with him, hate him, sympathize, hate… And then there’s Lucien. Sweet, cinnamon roll Lucien who just wants to help. What a darling. 10/10 would recommend falling in love with Lucien. The villain, Amarantha, is even pretty rad. Like she’s terrible, and evil, and horrible… but she’s one of those villains that you’re like “Damn, what eighth circle of Hell did this bitch crawl out from?”

And then there’s Rhysand. The fifth love of my life, Rhysand. You’re going to be all “EW RHYSAND IS ICKY.. oh wait. Fuck, okay” Even if you don’t have the mouth of a sailor, you will cuss because that’s what Rhsyand does to a reader’s fragile psyche. I loooooove Rhysand. He’s one of my “dark haired devils who’s actual a beautiful soul and is quite sensitive” babies. As if I needed another fictional character to fall madly in love with. 

Conclusion: Four words: it fucked me up. It continues to fuck me up. Especially the ending of the second book. I don’t wanna talk about it, okay? Like I get why things happen but I’m allowed to stew in anger over it, too. If you want to get emotionally attached to a series, read this one.

120 DAYS UNTIL THE THIRD BOOK IS PUBLISHED. Not that I have it pre-ordered. Or there’s, like, a countdown on my phone or anything.

Carry on,

The Book Witch