#ignite very secret feelings within u

[whitepeachparfait]

What in tarnation is a homosexual

search up men kissing sloppy style 18+ on google dot com

[bloodybreakupscene]

heyyaa, HOW ARE YOUUU? ｡ ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡

i hope you’re doing well!! i was wondering if i could request some gwen stacy x fem! reader dating headcanons! 🙏🙏

please and thank youu!!!<33

-> 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊.

gwen stacy x fem! reader

-> gwen stacy dating headcannons (⁠◠⁠‿⁠・⁠)⁠—⁠☆

-> hello!!! i'm doing good thank u for sending this in, the idea is so cute ^__^ hopefully i did ur request justice (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠) , n e wayzz she def listens to alex g she is the number one alex g fan ♡⁠(⁠˃͈⁠ ⁠દ⁠ ⁠˂͈⁠ ⁠༶⁠ ⁠)

• i feel like she’d confess first, but it’d be in private and right after you two hung out so that way if you'd reject her she could quickly run back home never to be seen again. but, her overthinking was all in vain, as you accepted her confession.

"and i've felt this way, for. . a while! and it's okay if you don't feel the same way—"

"aw, i'd love to be your girlfriend, gwen."

"i know i know it's weird—"

"gwen i like you too."

"i knew you wouldn't feel the same way but i just—"

"GWEN."

• at the beginning of your guys' relationship she feels very insecure and is unsure of herself, she knows she's closed off, she knows she's not the prettiest, but all of these thoughts seem to vanish as you hold onto her hand and give her a soft smile, a smile that reaches the depths of her heart and ignites a feeling of emotions she hadn't felt in a long while.

• all of your hangouts before felt like dates to her, so she doesn't really have the need to go out to a fancy restaurant or go to the park for a picnic, she feels as if there's enough romance and passion within your hangouts it could count as a date.

• she keeps her identity from you, it's a huge secret, like a lock it in a safe and throw away the key kinda secret. her identity already cost her one lover, she doesn't want it to cost her another.

"what are your thoughts on spiderwoman?

"hm? oh! uh, i don't really care for her."

"haha that's kinda funny, i don't either but i thought you would!"

"what makes you say that? 😒"

"i don't know, i always see you after i see her, so i thought you were a fan or somethin' i dunno 😣"

• loves touring music stores with you, she'll always try and show off her knowledge about the drums because it's the one thing she feels confident in, she'll go on and on about it as you watch how her face lights up and lips curl up in a smile as she talks.

• speaking of music, she loves, LOVES, listening to music with you. she believes that music says a lot about a person's aesthetic, personality, taste, etc. so when you both are just sitting on the school bus, on a field trip, you'll share a pair of headphones listening to a playlist you both contributed to.

• she doesn't deal well with jealousy, she'll let it bubble inside her until it goes away, which it eventually does. whenever gwen sees you with another person she can't help but imagine that you like them better than her, that you'll eventually see that she isn't the best and that you deserve better.

• aside from this, you guys are a very cute couple! no denying that. she'll most likely spend more time at your house than hers, being around you and your family is (embarrassingly) one of her favorite things, just watching a movie or helping with dinner makes her life feel normal and domesticated.

"do you wanna come over for dinner tonight? my mom's making [insert dish here]."

"duh, oh my god her food is so good!"

"pfft, you're so cute 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩"

• cuddling is her favorite thing to do with you, whether its at your home or hers she just enjoys embracing you because it's a situation where she feels calm. her father walked in on the two of you holding each other, fast asleep on the couch completely disregarding whatever movie you were watching. he's glad his daughter has moved on and finds comfort in you.

[gffa]

Every time I put together a list of STAR WARS fic recs, I keep wanting to add to it because, here’s the thing about this fandom, people keep writing more amazing fic. I’m especially fond of this set because it contains a whole bunch of novel/novelette length fics that made for incredibly satisfying readings, like, sure, we’re all worried about what TROS might bring, but it’s a lot easier to relax for awhile when I have twenty novels worth of fic to distract me. So, here, have a bunch of crying about some of the incredible fic this fandom has given us, before I decide, no, I’ll wait until I read just ten or twenty more fics (because I have them sitting on my reader to read already!) and cry about them at everyone, too. STAR WARS FIC RECS: TIME TRAVEL RECS: ✦ Legacy by myrlendi (thehistorygeek), luke & leia & obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cast, time travel, 130k wip    Three months after the Battle of Endor, Luke Skywalker goes in search of a rumoured Jedi temple in a secluded part of the Mid Rim. He finds within the temple nothing but a strange artifact, which unexpectedly brings him much closer to the Jedi of old than he ever thought he would be. ✦ The Desert Storm by Blue_Sunshine, obi-wan & jedi & cast (too many to tag), time travel, 409.3k wip    The storm screams at him, and Obi-Wan Kenobi screams back. PREQUELS RECS: ✦ One Thing You Lack by maychorian, obi-wan & anakin, ~1k    Considering how easily Anakin wins at just about everything, it’s only fair that Obi-Wan have the best of him in at least one area. ✦ Adrift by Ripki, obi-wan & anakin & padme & yoda & palpatine & cast, 32.5k    In the aftermath of painful revelations, Obi-Wan and Anakin struggle to come to terms with the heavy price of secrets. But the war gives no respite and soon enemies are closing in, putting the Team’s honesty, loyalty and trust in each other to the test. ✦ Help me, Master by fireflyfish, obi-wan & anakin, 2.4k    Obi-Wan Kenobi watched in a kind of numb horror as Anakin Skywalker coiled his legs and summoned the Force to his command. ✦ Anamorphosis by saltyavocado, obi-wan/padme & anakin & cast, 33.5k    A distorted or monstrous projection or representation of an image on a plane or curved surface, which, when viewed from a certain point, or as reflected from a curved mirror or through a polyhedron, appears regular and in proportion; a deformation of an image. ✦ Knightrise by Deviant_Accumulation, obi-wan & yoda & satine & ahsoka & cast, 22.4k wip    “Strong enough to fight the Sith Lord, you are not.“ And just like that the fight drained out of Obi-Wan, the barely scraped together agitation running out of him like water from a broken glass. He looked at Yoda, the other Master already hobbling towards one of the back exits, his presence burning with focus, obviously expecting Obi-Wan to follow. ✦ Ensuring The Future by Shouting_at_God_in_Latin, obi-wan & anakin & mace & cody & yoda & cast, 44.1k wip    When both Yoda and Darth Sidious have a vision of the future, both send reinforcements to Cato Neimoidia. One fleet is sent to kill Obi-Wan Kenobi, the other is to save his life. The fate of the Light requires Obi-Wan to stay alive until years after the end of the Clone Wars, but can he even survive Cato Neimoidia? ✦ Rainfall on Geonosis by ealcynn, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cody & cast, 33.9k    Obi-Wan Kenobi attempts to land his troops at Point Rain. Geonosis is not kind. ✦ Trust Fall by devilinthedetails, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon, 1.4k    Two generations of Masters and Padawans. Two generations of trust falls. ✦ Lay Me Down by TrickyTricky, rex & obi-wan & cast, 7.9k    War is hell, and the terrible fate that lies in store for the clone troopers casts its long shadow over them even now. ✦ -when skies are hanged and oceans drowned, by glorious_clio, bail/breha, 1.1k    Bail’s had enough, and goes home to Breha. They know just how to take care of each other. ✦ Something Borrowed, Something New by Raven_Knight, qui-gon & dooku/jocasta, 1.6k    Qui-Gon Jinn had only been claimed as Knight Dooku’s Padawan for three weeks before he’d managed to get himself into trouble with his Master. ✦ Vestiges by Quark_Logic, obi-wan & anakin, ~1k    While duelling in the Death, Obi-Wan tries to connect with Anakin through their old Force Bond, not really expecting it to work. OBI-WAN/ANAKIN RECS: ✦ not too particular, not too precise by AozoraNoShita, obi-wan/anakin & padme & ahsoka, modern au, 8.4k wip    Obi-Wan and Anakin both run food blogs and they have Opinions about each other’s recipes. Then it turns out they live in the same apartment building and they have the same friends and when they finally meet? It’s like a cooking competition meets a rom-com. Kind of. ✦ Upfall by bell (belldreams), belldreams, usomitai (belldreams), obi-wan/anakin & obi-wan/satine & ahsoka & cast, NSFW, 71.1k wip    Anakin is doing just about everything he can to hold himself together; it won’t last. ✦ Transactions and Negotiations by zarabithia, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, modern au, light d/s, 5.3k wip    Obi-Wan Kenobi is Anakin Skywalker’s favorite client. ✦ This time we’ll fall together by liv_k, obi-wan/anakin & padme & yoda & cast, 27.6k wip    In the aftermath of Order 66, Anakin Skywalker’s miraculous survival after his confrontation with the new Sith Apprentice Darth Vader ignites a sparkle of hope in the remaining Jedi, in the fledgling rebellion and, above all, in his former Master, who thought he had lost everything to darkness. But darkness is generous, and it is patient. ✦ Home by little_tales, obi-wan/anakin & shmi & mace & qui-gon & cast, NSFW, time travel, 39k wip    Time travel fix-it story with a bit of a twist. After his death, Obi-Wan wakes up on Tatooine, in the body of his padawan self. But instead of trying to prevent Anakin from Falling, he decides to change the future by stopping Qui-Gon from ever meeting the little Ani. ✦ After the Pillars Come Down by Virgo827, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka & cast, 19.7k    Anakin, Obi-Wan, & Ahsoka investigate the death of a Senator, and an accusation against the Jedi Order. But as the shadow of their last offensive campaign looms over them, the Jedi find it harder and harder to come to terms with what the war has made them. ✦ In the Heat of the Moment by Gwendolyn (storiesofchaos), obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 5.5k    In which Anakin and Obi-Wan are stranded on some lonely desert planet, and what first appears to be a dull, annoying mishap turns out to be full of pent-up desire and feelings that come to light. ✦ Mutual Acquaintances by Ghost_Owl, obi-wan/anakin & obi-wan/satine & anakin/padme & padme/satine & cast, 36.6k wip    In which Satine’s distress call puts Obi Wan under Council scrutiny, Anakin offers to save her for him as a Totally Platonic Favor, Satine would like one good day, please, Padmé has everything under control, and Maul manages to cause an even bigger problem than before. ✦ Adrift and Entangled by WhiteMoose, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka & padme & maul, some torture, 68k wip    After the Hardeen operation, emotions are raw. But before anything can be fully sorted out, the boys are sent to Christophsis for their next mission. Things don’t go as planned, and they find themselves alone in an unknown system with no hyperspace capabilities and no effective means of communication. ✦ Distractions by SingManyFaces, obi-wan/anakin 1k    Being distracted by Obi-Wan wasn’t anything new, but the circumstances always were. ✦ untitled by subskywalker, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, some d/s, 1k    “Remember dear one,” Obi-Wan reminded him as he pet his curls with one hand while the other stroked his cheek gently. “If it gets to be too much or if your need a break just tap our signal, okay?” ✦ The Seduction of Anakin Skywalker by DontCallMeShirley, obi-wan/anakin & anakin/padme & obi-wan/anakin/padme & cast, 20.2k    Anakin is falling to the dark side. Obi Wan and Padme concoct a scheme to bring him back. ✦ So Warm by amyfortuna, obi-wan/anakin, 1.2k    Anakin needs body heat. Well, maybe he needs a little more than just body heat. ✦ untitled by subskywalker, obi-wan/anakin/padme, sith!obi-wan, sith!padme, 1k    Anakin falls in increments and everything else happens in between. ✦ Dear Fellow Traveler by Glare, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, modern au, 17.4k    When strangers Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker both miss their flight, they become unlikely partners in the quest to get home. ✦ Satisfying Victory by zarabithia, obi-wan/anakin/ahsoka, NSFW, 3.4k    The Force gives and Ahsoka takes. (Or, Ahsoka goes back in time and is totally going to fix everything. But there’s another order of business to attend to first.) ✦ Cinnamon by birdcat, obi-wan/anakin, 2.4k    “Was it the same dream, today?” It took Anakin a moment to process Obi-Wan’s question. “Yes.” ✦ The Lives We Live Before the Present Moment by lyhoradka, obi-wan/anakin, 1.2k    The Jedi’s best-kept secret is that the Force lies. (Anakin finds Obi-Wan a flower.) ✦ Immortals by SingManyFaces, obi-wan/anakin/ahsoka, vampire au, ~1k    They tried to picture their lives without Obi-Wan, but they couldn’t. ✦ Soldier, Poet, King by Glare, obi-wan/anakin & qui-gon & dooku & cast, NSFW, time travel, d/s undercurrents, 102.5k wip    Second chances are very rarely given, but the Force smiles upon two of its favorite children and returns them to a time before their actions have met their consequences. ORIGINAL TRILOGY RECS: ✦ Yet Peace by theLoyalRoyalGuard, obi-wan & luke & cast, 3.7k    Grieving and unable to part with his best friend’s son, Obi-Wan raises Luke. Turns out, he’s pretty good at it. ✦ Hidden Relics by Burning_Nightingale, aphra & ahsoka, 1k    When Aphra goes searching for Sith relics on Malachor, she gets more than she bargained for. ✦ More Than Just a Treat by JessKo, obi-wan & luke & beru & owen, 1.3k    Beru and Luke bake cookies for Old Ben. REBELS RECS: ✦ we don’t have to have everything at once by Burning_Nightingale, thrawn/eli & thrass, 12.3k    Eli is reunited with Thrawn by chance on a mission for the Ascendancy; their changed circumstances give both the chance to voice things previously left unsaid. ✦ Lights In The Storm by Burning_Nightingale, thrawn/eli & faro, 13k    An Admiral being asked to investigate reports of smuggling at a tiny listening post in the ass end of nowhere would in normal circumstances be insulting - but Admiral Ballenrost is asking as a ‘personal favour’, and one does not turn down that sort of request from a man of his standing, even if one is the Imperial Navy’s most unorthodox and sole non-human flag officer. ✦ A Second Honor and Privilage by katsu, thrawn/eli & cast, NSFW, 10k    Eli and Thrawn smut held together with a thin veneer of plot. ✦ Dear by ambiguously, kanan/hera, fem!kanan, 4.8k    Kanan’s life has been a mess ever since Order 66, but now she has a new business partner and a new job to do. What could go wrong? SEQUELS RECS: ✦ Coneflower Honey by ambiguously, leia & rey & ben & finn, 3.2k    General Organa is seriously ill. The Supreme Leader of the First Order is the only person in the galaxy who knows what’s wrong with her. FULL DETAILS + RECS HERE!

[alcego-writes]

Green is for nature- day four of @violetvineyardnetwork‘s 2020 Pride Event!

June and Winnie take solace in nature after some secrets come to light.

Length: ~1,400 words

Warnings: N/A x

Tag List: @maxgraybooks @howdy-writes @ladywithalamp @violetcancerian @daltoneering (Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!)

           June takes a moment to appreciate the fresh air while she fills the car’s gas tank. Being stuck on the road for days on end, breathing in the same recycled air has been driving her nuts. She keeps fighting the urge to park outside of an empty field and run until her legs give out.

           But that’s not an option, not with Winnie here. Not with what happened the last time she left Winnie alone and found that all of the defenses June knows are useless against the strange thing following them. Because it is following them, regardless of what Winnie says. She’s paying attention, and she doesn’t believe in coincidences. Not in coincidences like these, anyway.

           The meter clicks and June opens her eyes. She props her chin on the car’s roof and scowls at the price. It’s all paid for, thanks to Winnie taking charge of their cash flow. Which is good, because June doesn’t want to explain why she refuses to operate the pump. She just… really doesn’t want to deal with it. Not on top of all of the everything else they’ve got going on.

           Winnie steps out of the convenience store, sunglasses pushed up her forehead, and gestures for June to go in. They’ve broken this down to a routine, a measured come and go designed to keep them moving down the road.

           June takes her turn in the store. She makes her rounds through the various departments, feels herself relaxing with each extra moment in the air conditioning. That ease fades the moment she spies a camera in the corner, and she grabs her snacks and makes her way to the register. She cracks her neck as the clerk curses at the register—which has decided this is the perfect moment for it to die—and apologizes to June while he rings up her drink and fruit snacks at the other register. June remains on the far side of the counter, as she’s not in the mood to antagonize the man.

           With her snacks paid for and good to go, June leaves the store. Another breath, another moment to appreciate the fresh—if overly hot—air. Winnie is sitting in the passenger’s seat, and her stomach tosses before she hears the music thumping steadily in the cab.

           June freezes in the middle of the parking lot, plastic bag hitting her thigh.

           Shit.

           She takes a deep breath, tries to sort through her racing thoughts. Can she find a way to play this off, or at least distract Winnie from the inevitable? It seems doubtful.

           So be it. Winnie had to find out sooner or later, anyway.

           June gets in the car.

           The radio turns to static.

           Winnie stares at it, mouth hanging open. She glances at June, who’s busying herself with her bag and her seatbelt and putting too much effort into not meeting Winnie’s eyes. Finally, Winnie splutters out a choked, “What?”

           June turns off the radio. “I told you it’ll only play static.”

           “You definitely failed to mention that it only does that when you’re around.”

           June shrugs. “Whoops?”

           “No, no, no, no! You do not get to ‘whoops’ me over this!” Winnie turns the radio back on, cringing when the station remains staticky. “What the fuck?”

           “See, normally that’s my line.”

           Winnie glares at her.

           “Fine,” June says, turning the key in the ignition. “Technology likes to die around me. Happy now?”

           “No!” Winnie says, only it comes out like a shriek. “What do you mean technology dies around you? How does that even work? Are you a- a mutant or something?”

           “Very much a regular human, so far as I’m aware,” June says, plastering a thick layer of calm that she doesn’t feel onto her words. “With a very unlucky superpower.”

           Winnie stares at her in shocked silence for the next five miles. It’s unnerving, really, how intense Winnie can be when she’s freaked out. Especially when the thing that’s freaked her out is June. It’s not something that June is eager to get used to, and she’s more than ready for the next crazy thing in their lives to happen now, please.

           So, of course, it doesn’t. June turns left onto a country road, teeth clacking together when the wheel strikes a pothole. Which is definitely uncomfortable, but it does seem to shake Winnie out of her staring fit, which is nice.

           “Sure,” Winnie says to herself. “Why not? I mean, after everything that’s happened… I’m magic, and you’re- not?” She grimaces. “You’re on the complete opposite end of the spectrum.”

           June snorts. “Guess that makes me anti-magic, huh?”

           “Don’t make jokes, please,” Winnie says, rubbing her temples. “It’s hard enough to wrap my head around this without baby trying to make her first joke.”

           June glances at Winnie, frowning as she realizes that Winnie is taking this a lot harder than she’d expected. She turns on her hazards and pulls off the road. Hopefully the ground isn’t too soft…

           “Hey,” June says, touching Winnie’s wrist. She waits until Winnie looks at her. “You good?”

           “No,” Winnie says, and it’s remarkable how easily the words come from her lips. “Definitely not.”

           June nods, glances in the rearview mirror, and then gets out of the car. It’s hot out—more than warm, but not horribly so. Still, June’s skin prickles with the threat of sweat beading on her neck. She knocks on Winnie’s door, gestures for Winnie to follow her, and takes off in a dead sprint into the field.

           Her legs protest at first, grown far too used to spending the majority of the day cramped within the car, but she finds her rhythm quickly enough. Finds the push of earth against the soles of her boots, feels the wind whipping against her skin and dragging her hair out behind her. There’s a clattering as Winnie stumbles out of the car and after June, and the promise of Winnie following her makes June push herself harder, run a little faster.

           She’s not sure where she’s going. Hasn’t had any ideas in a while, but she has her eyes fixed on the horizon, on the field that stretches before her and to the end of her vision. Her breath comes in rough pants as she wonders if she could run all the way to the end.

           Finally, June comes to a stop. She could go longer, she tells herself, but she needs to stop before she runs herself to death. Needs to stop before she gives in to the desire deep in her chest to run until she falls. To run until she can’t anymore.

           She puts her hands on her head, tries to catch her breath, and turns to wait for Winnie to catch up to her. June’s lungs burn, her legs shake, but her face is flushed and her heart is giddy. The grass makes her throat itch, but it’s fine. It’s worth it to have made it, to have strayed from the road for the first time in what must be weeks.

           Panting, Winnie stops by June’s side. She punches June’s arm before bending over double and wheezing, hair falling into a dark curtain around her head.

           “What- what are you doing?” Winnie asks between pants.

           June laughs and grabs a handful of grass in her hands. “Running.”

           “Why?”

           “Why not?”

           Winnie glares at her, shoves her shoulder into June’s side, but June just laughs and falls onto her back. She stares at the sky, clear and blue. After a moment, Winnie joins her.

           “What do you see?” June asks, her skin burning where Winnie is pressed up against her. They’ve laid together before, but always in bed and never this close.

           The back of Winnie’s hand brushes June’s hand, but Winnie acts like she doesn’t notice. Says, “A rabbit in a teapot.”

           June laughs. She can hardly breathe, and it has nothing to do with exertion. “I was going to say a turtle, but I like yours better.”

           Weaving their fingers together, Winnie knocks her head against June’s shoulder, makes a show out of trying to see the clouds from June’s perspective. Her heart is racing—June can feel Winnie’s pulse in her fingertips, or maybe that’s just June’s heartbeat echoing through Winnie’s skin. She swallows against the leaping of her heart.

           “I think I see the turtle, too,” Winnie says after a moment, declaration softened by the catch of her breath. “Only it’s got a bowtie on.”

           “In what world?” June snorts, tries to see it for herself. “Are you looking at its butt?”

           Winnie laughs, and June thinks she could live on nothing but that laugh alone for the rest of her life. It’s beautiful, that tinkling laugh of hers, and June never wants to get up out of this grass.

[xoexoxhoe]

[11:27pm] Lifeboat

Characters: Im Changkyun (Monsta X) & Y/N (reader) 

💥Warning: slight smut, angst, smoking, heartbreak (whats new, right?)💥

Theme: Side Piece!Changkyun, angsty affair 

A/N: no one asked for this, (neither did I lol) but i was in a mood and it’s almost 5 am where I am and I just wanted to do something about MX Who Do U Love because it really is a bop. sorry if there’s typos!  

PS: my AMAZING co is writing another fic based on this song and its vibe too ~ stay tuned my dudes. 

“When is he supposed to be home?”

You bit your lip, glancing towards your clock and shrugging your shoulders, “Around midnight? I don’t know. He just said he’d be at a business event with his friends, you know how the company-”

Changkyun zipped up his pants, readjusting his hoodie, “I don’t need to know, Y/N.”

The tension intensified between you both until you finally succumbed to his brooding stare, “I just thought you should know where he’d be…”

He scoffed, leaning against your window pane, lighting his cigarette between those delicate fingers of his, gently letting the puffs of smoke dissipate into the cold air outside.

“Why?” was all he muttered, fixated on your figure against the headboard. Your hands clutched a pillow to your body, feeling exposed and vulnerable in the sight of Changkyun. He was supposed to just be a one time thing, someone you just fucked to get you off after having a sort of falling out with your boyfriend in the past; you just didn’t, couldn’t stay away, and that was the problem.

The soft moonlight crept across your carpet, clawing at the edge of your dresser and illuminating the haunting figure positioned against the glass, staring at you, watching you. Changkyun’s raven colored hair tousled in the wind, he pushed it back, slowly drawing in one last puff of smoke. He put out the embers against the tiles on your roof while being careful to ensure the fire was completely diminished before chucking it out of existence. Your boyfriend would be home soon, and he knew it. It was the time of the night where the sex came to an end, and you were both left with hesitant emotions. Six months of secret rendezvous in the very bed you shared with your now fiancé really made your stomach twist into an endless set of knots, tethered by confusion, lust, and hatred for yourself and the person you’ve become.

“I think we should stop this.” you whispered, realizing the pit you dug for yourself and how badly you wanted to leap out of it, make a run for the door and just start over.

Changkyun chuckled, moving to the edge of your bed. The mattress sank, causing your legs to slide out from under you, “Sounds good to me.”

You were baffled, expecting him to be a bit more opposing, not wanting you to leave or cut ties with him. “Wait, what?”

He began to slide his slender fingers across your bare thighs, your lips now parting. “You want it to be over, right?”

“I- I do. I love my fiancé.” you stammered, thoughts racing as his palm made its way to the lace strewn across your hips.

“You want me to pick up and leave, just like that?”

You nodded, “Please.”

“Beg for me to go, baby.” both of his hands were now passing over your abdomen beneath your shirt, the warmth of his touch sparking that fire he always seemed to ignite within your core.

“Don’t come back, Changkyun. You’re no good for me.”

“Why? Is it because your pretty little fiancé has a better job? Does it make up for what he lacks?” he smirked, “After all, that’s the reason why you keep on asking me to come back, isn’t it?”

Your head began to spin, pleasure devouring your thoughts, “He’s a good man, Changkyun. He deserves me, and I deserve him.”

He leaned into you, pressing your body into the headboard now, ravaging your breasts in his hands, “Good men are completely useless if they can’t satisfy their women. You don’t deserve that, Y/N.”

Your back arched when you felt his tongue glide across your neck, “Please, stop- He’ll be home any minute.”

“Then tell me why your fingers are wrapped in my hair right now? Clinging to me like you’ve got no one else to satisfy you.”

You hardly even realized the way you were tugging so intensely at his roots, filling your grasp with as much of him as you could take in. “Fuck you.”

“Say you want me.”

He bit your shoulder with just enough pressure to make you yelp, “No, I don’t want you.”

“You don’t want me to do this anymore?” he slid three fingers between your thighs, finding his way to the very heat of your center and pulsating against you slowly, “Are you a good girl, Y/N? You think you deserve this?”

“No...” you felt tears beginning to stream down your face as you were trapped between ignorance and bliss.

“Good girls don’t fuck other guys while they’re engaged, beautiful.” he sped up his pace, a soft whimper dancing across your lips. “Can he do it like me, Y/N? Does he make you happy?”

You shook your head against his shoulder, your dampened cheeks rubbing against his jacket as he finger fucked you, “I don’t know.”

“It’s a simple yes or no question, Y/N.” he whispered into your ear, nipping at you and rubbing his thumb against your clit.

“I don’t know!” you screamed, wishing you were somewhere, anywhere else other than in this bed with the guy who you’ve come to enjoy, not only for sex, but for everything. Changkyun kept you grounded, motivated; not to mention he just understood you. He knew how to fuck you, how to turn your night around through just a single dirty text. He was everything you wanted both physically and emotionally; but you weren’t sure if he was what you needed. You felt yourself spiral into the beginning of an orgasm, panting and shaking, gripping onto his shoulders as if he were the last lifeboat saving you from the sinking ship that was your engagement.

Before you knew it, he pulled out of you, standing up and licking his fingers, leaving you dazed and muddled. He tucked his hands into his pockets, moving towards your bedroom door.

“Where are you going?” you asked, fumbling out of bed breathless and dissatisfied.

“Where does it look like I’m going?” he raised an eyebrow, placing the hood of his jacket over his head.

“It… it looks like you’re leaving.” you bat your eyes, watching his minimal movements as he swayed back and forth before you.

He nodded, “You said it yourself. You want me to leave, that I’m no good for you, right? I agree.” he spun around completely, facing you and reaching a hand to your chin, pulling it into his face, “But, I know you think of me each time you close your eyes while that shit show of a fiancé fucks you. Every time you walk into this room, you’re gonna think of me, and the way I  was there to satisfy the deep desires residing in your mind while he was out, probably fucking other girls. I did that.” he kissed your lips hard, pushing your shoulders back immediately, “Not him.”

He left you there frozen and distraught, unable to gather your thoughts within the little time you had before your fiancé made his way home. In a matter of seconds, you heard Changkyun’s car start up outside, peeling out of your driveway, disappearing into the night.

[legatumrpg]

full name: hestia jones

age: thirty-three

gender and pronouns: cisfemale and she/her/hers

blood status: halfblood

occupation: hit witch

affiliation: order

i n t r o d u c t i o n »

You’re a hardliner. A pusher. You work hard and have the scars to prove it. That might have alienated you from the people you once cared about over the years, but your career is what’s most important to you. At least that’s what you keep telling yourself. It’s not like this is anything new, you’ve always been like this much to the chagrin of your mother, but this is the life you chose. You love the action, the excitement, the danger. It’s just a matter of time before that catches up to you.

b i o g r a p h y »

It starts with a child. She’s screaming, all alone in a cold hospital bed, tears streaming down her face as nurses silently moved around her, judgmental eyes and the humming of their minds and hearts throbbing, pulsating into the formation of albino honeybees. She’s not ready for this baby, not ready to be a mother. But the baby is ready for her. She spends hours staring into the heartless, clinical, sterile white of the cathedral arches of the ceiling, lips moving wordlessly, praying to a God she only hopes can hear her when she knows she has spent a life laughing in his face.

Finally one last push, a singular sharp pain, and, as she catches her breath, a baby begins to cry from somewhere in the confines of her little screened off bed. Eyes, filled with hot wet tears, still fixated on that damn ceiling. A nurse brings the baby – a girl, she whispers, like it’s a secret, eyes set wide in her porcelain face but she’s holding the baby like it’s some dirty unholy thing – to the bedside and offers her up to her mother, but this woman, this child, refuses, only latches one dark hand onto that pilled, pink blanket to peel back the cover from the little one’s restless face. She’s crying. She’s crying but she has her father’s eyes and his nose and his jaw.

He won’t even know about his daughter. He’s already gone, returned back to Mexico, and to a world of which this child knows nothing about. She once told him he had a glint of magic in his eye; she’ll never know how right she was.

Time passed. The baby was left with the hospital she was born in, her mother departed a little worse for the wear. She came to be adopted by a Wizarding family with the last name Jones, who came to give her the name Hestia. A firecracker of a little girl, raised with large hearts, open arms, and stern hands. Now the daughter of two Wix who could not have children of their own, she, this little hellish angel with a beaming smile and bouncing curls, would smile up at her parents, knowing that whatever mischief she got up to her parents had made the decision to accept her into their hearts and into their home, and that she was chosen, selected specifically, and very much wanted. This was the knowledge with which she grew. It was the only life she had ever known.

Of course, sometimes it was uncomfortable, listening to the other children at school go on and on about their blood, the purity of their family tree, their ancestral lines. She could spout whatever she wanted about the Jones family; they would always be quick to point out that wasn’t really her family. She found that this confusing flame of emotions igniting within her could not be solved with words; any verbal argument was always met with another witty response, it seemed. The only way to silence these cruelties, it seemed, was with violence. Tiny hands balled into fists and went flying into laughing mouths, or else clenched tightly around her wand as she screamed out a spell that sent bodies flying backwards with a sickening thump.

Her parents loved her, but they were concerned. As you got older, it seemed this behavior only solidified in her muscles, in her brain. They understood the feelings, the impulses, but began to grow concerned this was too much of her blood in her, something they couldn’t parent out of her no matter how hard they tried. And this implication hurt just as much as the words flung at her at school. Did they not love her? Did they not see her as entirely their daughter as she felt she was?

More time passed, and she began to drift from her parents further and further. It seemed as though every decision she made only hurt them, and it was more than she could bear. Immediately upon graduation, she announced her intent to move out, live on her own, make her own bad decisions and fuck up her own life and no one else’s.

Her parents saw their daughter declaring that she no longer loved them, that she would rather risk her life than stay with them for one more minute. Hestia saw her parents’ heart breaking every time she put herself in harm’s way and chose to ignore how much more this would hurt them, deciding to believe that this would make everything better if they didn’t have to worry about her any more.

And so, from that moment on, she’s been independent. Hard. Solitary. Over time, cold, even. But there’s no going back, so she tells herself she’s fighting for something, that she made the right decisions. Ever forward, no looking back.

c o n n e c t i o n s »

gwenog jones » Your families are linked by blood and despite that bond, you know that the two of you would have found a way into each other’s lives. You respect their opinion more than most and despite the fact that you have grown apart these past few years, you will always be there when your cousin needs you especially since you know that they will always be there for you. After all, what else is family for?

amelia bones » Late nights working in the Ministry of Magic offices brought you close together. You were great partners, but a stolen kiss made things difficult between the two of you and now you haven’t spoken to them since. You wish you could just explain yourself to them and just maybe tell them how you really feel.

fenrir greyback » Your mark. You’ve been trying to arrest them since an innocent woman was murdered by a wolf during your first year at your job. There was never any solid evidence against them, but something about their alibi didn’t seem right to you. You’ve spent all the free time you have since then trying to catch them in the act, to finally put them away for their crimes. But just how desperate are you?

Hestia Jones is played by TESSA THOMPSON and is TAKEN

[zenosanalytic]

Star Wars: The Last Jedi: Politics

So I’m FINALLY getting back to this after, as usually, letting myself get distracted with other things |:T Partly that was me wanting to do a rewatch to get my thinking on this issue in order, and then not having the time to before it left theaters(X| X|), but Anyway! I’m doing it now!!

Tl;dr: I feel like the details of the plot confuse and undercut its laudable messages, and that it furthers a sort of shallow, commoditized understanding of “rebellion” as a character trait/mindset rather than a political act, much like Rogue One.

Political Ethics

So like I said, the messages are good. The Rebellion is clearly presented as Good and the First Order clearly as Bad. The Rebellion is egalitarian, people-oriented, universalist(humans & nonhumans of all stripes are welcome, and there’s no visible gender discrimination), collectivist, and affirming of its members’ worth, needs, and initiative; these values deserve to be presented as Good. The First Order is hierarchical, object-oriented[1], exclusionary(no place for nonhumans; mostly filled with white men), aristocratic[2], and actively erases or ignores the individuality of all but its command staff[3]; these “values” deserve to be presented as Bad.

Unfortunately the plot focuses on the individual “heroes” of The Rebellion, an inherently aristocratic perspective[4] and, aside from the planetary evacuation, none of the Rebellion’s successes have a particularly collective feel to them. In certain respects this is necessary, Poe can’t start off understanding he has to think of the group first if learning to do that is his arc, but that’s a single character, and there ought to be a noticeable progression as he learns that lesson through the film; instead, he continues to make the same myopic mistake again and again until the very end. This mismatch does more than undermine the larger message; it makes it seem as if Poe’s actions exist to create drama in the film, rather than as part as a personal narrative, within a wider story. The presentation of Holdo is much better on this count, she’s almost always in a group, discussing and directing actions(that we aren’t privy to |:T), though unfortunately those are all distilled into individual moments for her, or antagonistically between her and Poe. One could argue that Poe’s increasing reliance on followers rather than his own actions --first Rose and Finn then what’s left of the pilots-- is meant to show him growing as a leader, but I find that argument unconvincing. Rose and Finn’s mission is a decision he makes on his own without consultation in secret in contravention of the collective’s decisions, and is explicitly presented as yet another “Heroic” mistake on his part. The Mutiny is similarly presented, and the collective aspect of it rest on a single scene, after which the focus moves back again to Poe. Something as simple as having Poe be with others, visibly leading them, in these arc-moments, or surrounding Holdo with bustle rather than just people, or showing extras accomplishing vital tasks, would have given the Rebellion a more collective, egalitarian feel. Instead, we get Poe taking the bridge on his own; Holdo standing up to Poe, alone; Holdo and Leia stepping out of separate smoke-clouds to stop his mutiny, alone; Holdo left on the bridge, alone, sacrificing herself for the collective.

The overall presentation of the Resistance/Rebellion adds to this confusion. The Rebellion/Resistance is supposed to represent the Galaxy and its people as they are, which is why its membership is diverse and why the oppressed like Rose and the children at the stables side with it. But the Resistance isn’t presented as a mass-movement: instead it’s a small handful of stalwarts Fighting the Good Fight, led by an even more select cadre of Heroes responsible for all their successes. It is more vanguard than expression of the common will, let alone defenders of a standing government which unites the galaxy. This desire to stack the odds against the “Rebels” --to emphasize their vulnerability, increase tension, and contrast their individuality with the dehumanized First Order-- ends up presenting the struggle for democracy and freedom as an elite endeavor. The common struggle for dignity, democracy, and freedom cannot be fought by a handful of mythic heroes; collectivist goals cannot be accomplished through elitist ends and avoid corruption into precisely what they fought against. Leaders and organization can and must exist to direct action and prevent subversion, but to present them AS the movement and the movement as alone and abandoned -as the “spark of hope” that “will ignite the galaxy”- is to present the people of the galaxy as the passive object of their will rather than as their partners in the struggle and society.

Which leads into a more delicate question about TLJ’s politics: people, sacrifice, who dies, and who matters. There are four events that focus and turn on these questions, in two mirrored pairs: Poe’s distraction/bombing run and Luke’s illusion; Holdo’s kamikaze and Finn’s attempted one. Structurally these are a bit imbalanced as three take place during or after the climax, and one at the very beginning of the movie. They are presented like this: Poe risks his life to distract Hux so the Rebels can escape, which is good, but then he needlessly risks, and loses, the lives of his pilots to blow up a dangerous ship, which is bad; Holdo selflessly commits kamikaze to save the Rebel transports and destroys much of the Order fleet, which is good; Finn tries to selflessly commit kamikaze to save the rebel base and destroy the Battering Ram, which is bad, but is stopped by Rose risking her life to crash him off course, which is good; Luke projects himself over galactic distances, knowing it will kill him, to delay the Order long enough for the Rebels to escape, which is good.

The message here seems to be that it is right to sacrifice your life for others in dire moments, and wrong to sacrifice the lives of others for your plans, which fits perfectly with the moral and political opposition established between the Rebellion and the First Order(and between Poe’s grandstanding and Holdo’s quite marshaling of the fleet), but the episode with Finn puts an asterisk on that. I am NOT saying Finn should have died; that’d have been criminal and derailed the whole franchise and ruined this movie for me. But I do feel like they could have handled that sequence better, or presented that attempted sacrifice with circumstances that more clearly explicated the ethical message. It must also be said that women are allowed to die and risk themselves for others far more often than men in TLJ. Given the central place of women in the film, Luke’s sacrifice, and that, as above, killing Finn off would be a Horrible Criminal Offense that I would gladly hemotoxin people over, I don’t think TLJ intentionally played into this trope of women being “naturally” more sacrificing, “giving”, and group-oriented than men, but it’s still a Bad Look. This is worsened by the writing of and around Poe; he’s never shown mourning the loses he caused, never blames himself, never questions his actions, never loses the regard of his crewmates or the fond forbearance of his commanders for his atrocious decisions. Nominally he is demoted but he’s still able to do basically whatever he likes and, if anything, his insubordination marks him even moreso as the future of the Rebellion(protip: this is nepotism, not institutionalized revolt). Out of all the bombingcrew and fighter pilots who die only one, Paige, is given extended attention and heroic treatment, and nobody aside from Rose even mentions her after her death.

And also: Holdo and the A-Wing Pilot were both Great, and I Loved Them, and why did you kill them, Rian Johnson, in a movie I mostly enjoyed???

Rose and Finn’s storyline was far more politically satisfying to me. Their escape is fundamentally a collective one(though making it a full-on prison break would have been nice for this); without the Fathiers, children, and BB-8(sigh, and DJ *eyeroll*), they wouldn’t have been able to get out. They free the Fathiers in the process of freeing themselves rather than using them to advance their goals. Moreover, Rose gets her chance to be part of putting a metaphorical fist through a town built on exploitation and the performative excess it affords. That the movie would take aim at wealth like this, implicating it in the fascist, ethnic-supremacy of the First Order(even rich non-humans; there is no ethical stock-trading in galactic capitalism), really surprised me; I just wish it’d aimed wider, at wealth in general, rather than at weapons-dealers. Though having said that, singling out weapons-dealers does have a particular salience to USian politics, so maybe that’s part of it. Anyway: the message is far clearer than in Poe’s sections, bolstered by the action, and they get a chance to throw barbs at a “both sides are bad” idjit on the way out, which: Very Satisfying ^u^

Rey’s story I didn’t really see as all that political but, thinking about it just now, there is one aspect of it that touches on morality and politics, and that is her desire to “turn” Kylo Ren. In Impermanence I went into the psychological reasons Rey may have had for wanting to do this, but it all lends itself to a political analysis as well. Rey’s attempt to turn a violent fascist is not, I think, a promotion of the “let’s debate them, guys” school of rhetorical critique. To begin with she’s entirely willing to throw down with him if he chooses his desire for dominance over his connection to other people(and does), and secondly there’s much less uncertainty for her in this equation than in real life. Rey can feel Ben’s uncertainty and doubt, his love for his family and the anguish he feels over hurting them, the truth of his conviction that he is a monster for doing it. He is, absolutely, manipulating her, and using her knowledge of his feelings to manipulate her, but it’s a fundamentally different situation than one where the only thing you really have to honestly assess another person’s intentions is their actions, and the goal their words are meant to achieve. Besides, TLJ is about a war with fascists brought on by a central gov apparently doing nothing to stop their rise; that seems more a promotion of confrontation than of “debate”.

Rebellion

The presentation of “Rebel” is my other big complaint. I don’t really think this will take very long. It basically has two parts.

The first is: these people ARE the government. Leia helped rebuild the Republic; all the soldiers, officer or grunt, are Republic citizens who must have learned about how to fight from Republic institutions(and if they have military academies, why wouldn’t they have a military?). There was the suggestion in TFA that they were secretly funded by the Republic. The First Order is a hostile, invading, outside polity defined, to the audience, entirely by its militarism and oppression. So what are the Rebels Rebelling against? The term “Resistance” is frequently used, but by the end of the film it falls away entirely for this “Rebel” label, which is taken as exemplifying their values, mindset, and situation. But again: they are fighting to defend a standing, democratic, egalitarian government. They are no more rebels than Union soldiers fighting Confederate traitors were. The Empire itself, based on what I know of the backstory, was a massive and short-lived break from the historic mores and institution of galactic society. There is little, if any, polity calling for the Empire’s return, and many worlds actively supported the Rebellion during the civil war. So why are they so few, the Order so many, and why does no one come to help them? All these decisions made to heighten the situation and amplify the heroism of our protagonists not only undermine the idea that the galaxy is behind them, but also pour into valorizing this “Rebel” label and marking these “Rebels” as the courageous conscience of an apathetic and passive world, but it is the First Order that is rebelling against the democratic government that galaxy has legitimated, and in the name of the very defunct fascist coup they help that government end. The Galaxy does not need to be saved from itself: it needs to be protected from the forces of oppression and exploitation.

The second is this, and it’s related. Rebellion is an act and, like any act, it’s morality is judged by its context: why it is done, what it is responding to, how it is done, and what it accomplishes. Rebellion, in itself, is absent of moral meaning. Yet we see here, just as in Rogue One, rebellion being presented as good-in-and-of itself, “Rebel” as a personal quality rather than an act(i.e.: Phasma: “you were always scum!” Finn: “Rebel Scum!”), and zero examination of WHO is rebelling in this situation, against WHAT, and WHY. “Rebel” and “Rebellion” are transformed from political actions with discrete content into brands for people to wear; to be more direct, into corporate logos for Disney to sell. This is fucked up and, in the political context of the US where murderous confederate diehards like Jesse James are STILL lauded as folk heroes, unhelpful.

Nitpicks

The rest of my quibbles are pretty unimportant and mostly have to do with effective worldbuilding, so I don’t think they really detract from the movie in any general way, or even for a general audience that DOESN’T get twitchy over how believable depictions of political and social order are on screen.

Here is a Convenient List of my Niggling Complaints:

where’s the Republic? It’s a galaxy-wide government built on a foundation of THOUSANDS OF YEARS of galaxy-wide democracy pre-dating the Empire and, while having its capital destroyed with all-hands would certainly sow chaos, it certainly wouldn’t make it disappear! In every system!!

Where’s the Republic Military??

If the Republic HAD no military other than the (unofficial) Resistance, then wouldn’t the sudden wealth of all these weapons-manufacturers just as the First Order’s ramping up its rhetoric be kind of... suspicious???

And why would a government birthed from a rebellion against a fascistic “Empire” disarm in the face of organized remnants of said Empire(led by another Dark Jedi, no less!) anyway????

Why couldn’t this story take place during an all-out assault on a confused and headless Republic+military, rather than with the Republic poofed suddenly out of existence?x5

The collapse of governments is chaotic on all aspects of society and especially commerce: couldn’t they have shown at least ONE person on Canto Bight freaking out about their portfolio, and all the deals with the Republic gov they had that have just disappeared?x6

So like I said these aren’t really BIG complaints, but they’re aspects of the film that make my political-history brain Itchy. Maybe they’re all answered in EU material but if they are: it’s kind of a bad idea to build movies on information that the audience isn’t going to have going in, and won’t get by watching. Anyway they BUG me --just like the Bombers for all their rhetorical importance BUGGED me-- in basically every aspect, and I just wanted to State that For the Record. States and Governments don’t vanish in a day, they influence and express the societies which create them, and they always leave behind survivors.

[1]putting its faith in tools(the Dreadnought, their Cannons, the Battering Ram) and surplus(large ships, numerous fleets, innumerable faceless legions).

[2]Everyone speaks with posh accents. Also: only command-staff is allowed to show their faces or include idiosyncrasy in their uniforms.

[3]And even their avenues of expression are supremely limited.

[4]A “Hero” is, necessarily, “outstanding” and possessed of “superior” qualities, whether physical or moral. To be a “Hero” is, by definition, to be “better than” and “above” other people, which is what aristocracy - “rule by the best/highest”- is all about. And Yes: meritocracy literally means the samething as aristocracy, so don’t let people tell you it’s a democratic concept.

[cmcrson-blog]

WHATS UP Y’ALL ITS YA BITCH NICKI AGAIN N IM SO EXCITED TO INTRODUCE YOU TO MY SOFT LIL FIGHTER BABY EMERSON WHO I LOVE V MUCH AND I HOPE YALL WILL TOO. LIKE THIS N ILL COME TO U FOR PLOTS (for both her n mack if we havent already!!)

ABOUT EMERSON 

TW VIOLENCE AND FIGHTING

EMERSON BLACKWOOD. 20. ENGLISH LIT MAJOR. PISCES. WEREWOLF. COULD PROBABLY SNAP UR SPINE LIKE A TOOTHPICK BUT REALLY JUST WANTS TO CUDDLE.

ok so while most, if not all, the students at hexlore were raised supernatural, em wasn't 

emerson was actually born human and had a perfectly normal childhood up until around the age of 15 

for reasons she doesn't readily talk about, she was hexed by a very powerful witch with the lycanthropy curse 

her parents and siblings obviously didnt believe her, so when she transformed one night unexpectedly, they ended up thinking she was a wild wolf who had gotten into the house and killed her. they attacked her and she was left within an inch of her life before she could escape

she would have died that night if it weren't for pure luck that a travelling pack was passing through the wooded area where she had ended up collapsing. they stayed there with her for the night and healed her up, taking her in and initiating her into their pack. with nothing left to lose and a spirit as broken as hers, she accepted it and left with them. 

not only did she join a big pack, she joined a freaking strong one, and as the newest recruit she was the runt of the group. she felt more like a burden than an actual pack member, so she began to train in order to earn her place 

though they were a wandering pack, they'd stop in cities long enough for her and the other minors in the pack to be able to finish a solid school year, and in each new city, em would become a permanent fixture at their local gym. every day, she was there, working on getting stronger and more powerful and being able to prove herself. too swole to control bro

 all the bullshit she had gone through ignited something within her, something equal parts destructive and encouraging. her pain transformed itself into pure, unfiltered rage, which has become the staple of emerson's personality 

first off— she is (thankfully) the OPPOSITE of mack's dumb ass lmaooo

she’s really reserved and not very outgoing (just a lil shy..... wow how cute). she’s this tol cute bean with this long curly hair and these big blue eyes so she’s not exactly unapproachable but she’s also buff as FUQ and has this mysterious, enigmatic energy to her and tbh that makes her lowkey scary to approach

esp also considering that she’s almost ALWAYS got a black eye or bloodied knuckles or bruises scattering her body, she kinda looks terrifying and like she might try to snap ur arm in half

she’s honestly a super sweet soft soul, she genuinely is just bubbling with kindness and good intentions but she tries to keep her distance from the world bc oh dear 

emerson has a fucking TEMPER

and it’s not the “i’ll snap and be petty” it’s a “i won’t react until you keep pushing my buttons and then i’ll fucking snap and smash a table in half, punch a hole in the wall, and say a LOT of things i’ll regret”

she recognizes how dangerous and harmful this pent up aggression and rage is so she genuinely tries to keep it under check by withdrawing from a lot of over-stimulating situations and environments

she’s that bitch™ who’s always like “i...... i should go....” 

you would expect her to be this angry cynical bitch but honestly?? she keeps the anger beneath the surface tbh she’s really sweet and gentle. she’s also like.... a hopeless romantic and believes in being kind to the world and she’s SUCH A GOOD ARTIST but her main passion is honestly fighting so that’s why she hasn’t dropped it entirely despite how dangerous it is

she’s really scared that one of these days, her feelings are just gonna shut down and she’ll lose her humanity and get consumed my her own darkness and just become this awful angry monster of a person, which is why she tries SO DAMN HARD to be kind and gentle and good

(lowkey she’s gonna turn it off eventually for a hot minute bc i def want to play dark!emerson at some point HKJFHKHF)

also.... she’s loyal to a fucking FAULT nd would prob take a bullet for her loved ones. its altruism at its finest with this one. she’s also pretty softspoken but definitely stands up for what’s right, she won’t hesitate to literally snap ur fucking femur if you’re fucking with someone you shouldn’t be

on that note— she’s STRONG. like almost excessively strong, partially bc of her training 24/7, also partially bc her anger fuels her additional strength. but like.... she has the potential to honestly be an alpha if she really pushed herself

if i had to compare her to some characters from modern media..... stefan salvatore, the iron giant, scott mccall??

tldr: basically a big dreamy beefcake with anger issues who could probably snap u in half if u fuck with her loved ones. also has a sad past but is tryna turn her shit around without hurting anyone in the process which makes her reserved n secretive oh nooo

WANTED CONNECTIONS

crushes: one sided, mutual, lowkey, highkey infatuation, pls just give em the ability to be cute and sweet but also sometimes a bumbling fool

i want a plot where em admires someone from afar and is just like.... soft n always leaves them flowers or draws them in her little sketchbook

besties: emerson literally goes along w everything thus making her a valuable member to any and all squads. she’s also versatile, she can go from being that art nerd friend to that jock/fighter friend to that mom friend to that innocent friend to that leader friend. literally give my puppy of a person some buds pls

fighting plots: people who help her train, people who want her to stop, a love interest who bandages her up every time after a bad fight, anything pls

guardian: someone em looks out for fiercely and protectively or someone who looks out for her too n checks up on her when she has her bad moments

exes: she’s demisexual & demiromantic so she only starts to fall for people that she’s gotten to know or at least knows about. i really want an ex (or a few??) that were super cute and sweet when they dated but then em just kinda ended things out of nowhere? maybe she ghosted them, broke up over text, literally so out of nowhere and ur muse doesnt know why??? but it’s actually because em was too scared she’d end up hurting them so she ended things as a preemptive move to protect everyone

coworkers/customers: she works on campus somewhere bc she needs that cash money (im thinkin library) so i’d love a few plots of either people who work with her or people she sees constantly bc theyre always coming in??

“but nicki,” u may be asking, “where’s the fwb plots??” 

SURPRISE BITCH EMERSON’S A    V I R G I N

considering that mack is a heathen who prob has enough sex for the both of them i wanted to make emerson way more inexperienced since this bitch doesn’t like to get too attached to ppl

which means new potential wanted connection: her first time

[mothergamerwriter]

Wicked Saints (Something Dark and Holy #1) by Emily A. Duncan | Blog Tour Review & Excerpt

      Hello bookland! Welcome to Mother/Gamer/Writer for the Wicked Saints Blog Tour. For today’s tour stop, please enjoy my review of this magically delicious and bloody tale, an excerpt from the novel, and an awesome pronunciation guide!

      I received this book for free from the mentioned source in exchange for an honest review. This does not affect my opinion of the book nor the content of my review.

Wicked Saints by Emily A. Duncan Series: Something Dark and Holy #1 Published by: Wednesday Books on April 2nd 2019 Genres: Fantasy, Magic, YA, Romance Pages: 400 Format: ARC Source: ARC From Publisher, Blog Tour View on: Goodreads Grab it: Amazon Review Score:

About the Book:

When Nadya prays to the gods, they listen, and magic flows through her veins. For nearly a century the Kalyazi have been locked in a deadly holy war with Tranavian heretics, and her power is the only thing that is a match for the enemy’s blood magic. But when the Travanian High Prince, and his army invade the monastery she is hiding in, instead of saving her people, Nadya is forced to flee the only home she’s ever known, leaving it in flames behind her, and vengeance in her heart.

As night falls, she chooses to defy her gods and forge a dangerous alliance with a pair of refugees and their Tranavian blood mage leader, a beautiful, broken boy who deserted his homeland after witnessing his blood cult commit unthinkable monstrosities. The plan? Assassinate the king and stop the war.

But when they discover a nefarious conspiracy that goes beyond their two countries, everything Nadya believes is thrown into question, including her budding feelings for her new partner. Someone has been harvesting blood mages for a dark purpose, experimenting with combining Tranavian blood magic with the Kalyazi’s divine one. In order to save her people, Nadya must now decide whether to trust the High Prince – her country’s enemy – or the beautiful boy with powers that may ignite something far worse than the war they’re trying to end.

        “You could be exactly what these countries need to stop their fighting,” he said. He dropped his hand and she was colder for its absence. “Or you could rip them apart at the seams.”

    Magical, dark, and wicked, Wicked Saints is a courageous novel set in a Russian inspired land where nothing is as it seems.

  Nadya is a cleric, raised in the old ways and able to communicate with not only one god, but all gods. Her magic is deadly powerful and just as difficult to control as the gods she speaks with through her prayer beads who guide and protect the world. Within the first few pages, we are launched into the brutal attack on the monastery where Nadya was raised. Her people are dying at the hands of Crown Prince Serefin, a vicious blood mage and war general sent to capture her and her power. Nadya along with Anna, an ordained priestess, flees the chaos only to run into a group of rebels who have secrets of their own. Among them, Nadya finds their leader Malachiasz is also a blood mage who defected from his group of Vultures, sinister monsters who destroy everything in their path. After their meeting, it becomes a wicked game life or death and maybe love.

  Wicked Saints was easy to devour. Honestly, I was seventy percent through the book before I realized I had become immersed in the tale. Emily A. Duncan charms readers with her lush imagination. Her descriptions of snow and ice and stone make it easy for one to lose themselves in Nadya’s world. The religious war at the helm of it all inspires readers to question right and wrong, what they are taught versus what is and what can be. Personally, I loved the combination of religion and religion based magic. It made what happened to Nadya all the more real and personal. With such a complex magical system, Duncan does a great job of blurring the gray area between the two. Is blood magic all bad? Is using the god’s gifts all good? You will have to read Wicked Saints to find out!

  Overall, I recommend it for fans of diverse characters, those that love awe-inspiring worlds, and those that crave something a little dark and bloody in their reading pile.

    My Rating

                  4 N A D E Z H D A L A P T E V A

    Horz stole the stars and the heavens out from underneath Myesta’s control, and for that she has never forgiven him. For where can the moons rest if not the heavens?

—Codex of the Divine, 5:26

    “It’s certainly not my fault you chose a child who sleeps so deeply. If she dies it will very much be your fault, not mine.”

Startled by bickering gods was not Nadya’s preferred method of being woken up. She rolled to her feet in the dark, moving automatically. It took her eyes a few seconds to catch up with the rest of her body.

Shut up!

It wasn’t wise to tell the gods to shut up, but it was too late now. A feeling of amused disdain flowed through her, but neither of the gods spoke again. She realized it was Horz, the god of the heavens and the stars, who had woken her. He had a tendency to be obnoxious but generally left Nadya alone, as a rule.

Usually only a single god communed with their chosen cleric. There once had been a cleric named Kseniya Mirokhina who was gifted with unnatural marksmanship by Devonya, the goddess of the hunt. And Veceslav had chosen a cleric of his own, long ago, but their name was lost to history, and he re- fused to talk about them. The recorded histories never spoke of clerics who could hear more than one god. That Nadya communed with the entire pantheon was a rarity the priests who trained her could not explain.

There was a chance older, more primordial gods existed, ones that had long since given up watch of the world and left it in the care of the others. But no one knew for sure. Of the twenty known gods, however, carvings and paintings depicted their human forms, though no one knew what they actually looked like. No cleric throughout history had ever looked upon the faces of the gods. No saint, nor priest.

Each had their own power and magic they could bestow upon Nadya, and while some were forthcoming, others were not. She had never spoken to the goddess of the moons, Myesta. She wasn’t even sure what manner of power the goddess would give, if she so chose.

And though she could commune with many gods, it was impossible to forget just who had chosen her for this fate: Marzenya, the goddess of death and magic, who expected complete dedication.

Indistinct voices murmured in the dark. She and Anna had found a secluded place within a copse of thick pine trees to set up their tent, but it no longer felt safe. Nadya slid a voryen from underneath her bedroll and nudged Anna awake.

She moved to the mouth of the tent, grasping at her beads, a prayer already forming on her lips, smoky symbols trailing from her mouth. She could see the blurry impressions of figures in the darkness, far off in the distance. It was hard to judge the number, two? Five? Ten? Her heart sped at the possibility that a company of Tranavians were already on her trail.

Anna drew up beside her. Nadya’s grip on her voryen tightened, but she kept still. If they hadn’t seen their tent yet, she could keep them from noticing it entirely.

But Anna’s hand clasped her forearm.

“Wait,” she whispered, her breath frosting out before her in the cold. She pointed to a dark spot just off to the side of the group.

Nadya pressed her thumb against Bozidarka’s bead and her eyesight sharpened until she could see as clearly as if it were day. It took effort to shove aside the immediate, paralyzing fear as her suspicions were confirmed and Tranavian uniforms be- came clear. It wasn’t a full company. In fact, they looked rather ragged. Perhaps they had split off and lost their way.

More interesting, though, was the boy with a crossbow silently aiming into the heart of the group.

“We can get away before they notice,” Anna said.

Nadya almost agreed, almost slipped her voryen back into its sheath, but just then, the boy fired and the trees erupted into chaos. Nadya wasn’t willing to use an innocent’s life as a distraction for her own cowardice. Not again.

Even as Anna protested, Nadya let a prayer form fully in her mind, hand clutching at Horz’s bead on her necklace and its constellation of stars. Symbols fell from her lips like glowing glimmers of smoke and every star in the sky winked out.

Well, that was more extreme than I intended, Nadya thought with a wince. I should’ve known better than to ask Horz for any- thing.

She could hear cursing as the world plunged into darkness.

Anna sighed in exasperation beside her.

“Just stay back,” she hissed as she moved confidently through the dark.

“Nadya . . .” Anna’s groan was soft.

It took more focus to send a third prayer to Bozetjeh. It was hard to catch Bozetjeh on a good day; the god of speed was notoriously slow to answer prayers. But she managed to snag his attention and received a spell allowing her to move as fast as the vicious Kalyazin wind.

Her initial count had been wrong; there were six Tranavians now scattering into the forest. The boy dropped his crossbow with a bewildered look up into the sky, startling when Nadya touched his shoulder.

There was no way he could see in this darkness, but she could. When he whirled, a curved sword in his hand, Nadya sidestepped. His swing went wide and she shoved him in the direction of a fleeing Tranavian, anticipating their collision.

“Find the rest,” Marzenya hissed. “Kill them all.” Complete and total dedication.

She caught up to one of the figures, stabbing her voryen into his skull just underneath his ear.

Not so difficult this time, she thought. But the knowledge was a distant thing.

Blood sprayed, splattering a second Tranavian, who cried out in alarm. Before the second man could figure out what had happened to his companion, she lashed out her heel, catching him squarely on the jaw and knocking him off his feet. She slit his throat.

Three more. They couldn’t have moved far. Nadya took up Bozidarka’s bead again. The goddess of vision revealed where the last Tranavians were located. The boy with the sword had managed to kill two in the dark. Nadya couldn’t actually see the last one, just felt him nearby, very much alive.

Something slammed into Nadya’s back and suddenly the chilling bite of a blade was pressed against her throat. The boy appeared in front of her, his crossbow back in his hands, thank- fully not pointed at Nadya. It was clear he could only barely see her. He wasn’t Kalyazi, but Akolan.

A fair number of Akolans had taken advantage of the war between their neighbors, hiring out their swords for profit on both sides. They were known for favoring Tranavia simply because of the warmer climate. It was rare to find a creature of the desert willingly stumbling through Kalyazin’s snow.

He spoke a fluid string of words she didn’t understand. His posture was languid, as if he hadn’t nearly been torn to pieces by blood mages. The blade against Nadya’s throat pressed harder. A colder voice responded to him, the foreign language scratched uncomfortably at her ears.

Nadya only knew the three primary languages of Kalyazin and passing Tranavian. If she wasn’t going to be able to communicate with them . . .

The boy said something else and Nadya heard the girl sigh before she felt the blade slip away. “What’s a little Kalyazi assassin doing out in the middle of the mountains?” he asked, switching to perfect Kalyazi.

Nadya was very aware of the boy’s friend at her back. “I could ask the same of you.”

She shifted Bozidarka’s spell, sharpening her vision further. The boy had skin like molten bronze and long hair with gold chains threaded through his loose curls.

He grinned.

    Wicked Saints (Something Dark and Holy #1) by Emily A. Duncan | Blog Tour Review & Excerpt was originally published on Mother/Gamer/Writer

[forevans]

omg pls do 'sleepover' by hayley kiyoko w rosa diaz for the song thing omg i will love u even more than i already do

title: with you (in my head)length: 680 wordslink: sleepover - hayley kiyoko

Your name floats from her lips and caresses your ears within the darkness blanketing your bedroom. It’s a sweet sound, and the only thing sweeter is the feel of her lips grazing against the side of your face.

Goosebumps rise in waves along your body. You grip the sheets, lest the violent shivers raking your body sweep you away from her embrace.

Her chest, so soft and full, presses against you. Her stuttering breath mimics the unsteady rhythm of your heartbeat.

The world has never felt so small, so perfect with her arms wrapped around you. Your chest bubbles with something light and tingly, it tickles your throat and curls your tongue.

Rosa.

“[Name].”

You jerk with a gasp.

Rosa glares at you from the other end of the bed, and from the throbbing of your shin, you gather she just kicked you out of your reverie. “Your face is annoying me.”

The weight in the back of your eyes reminds you of how late it is, but there’s never a moment with Rosa that you don’t take for granted.

Every moment spent with her ignites a fire that burns inside of you and reminds you you’re alive and this is your sad, lonely reality. Yet you keep coming back for more because the ghost of her affections made up by the figments of your imagination are a balm to your broken-hearted soul.

You prop yourself up on an elbow. “Then what are you doing here?” Do you want an answer? Does it matter?

“We’re”—she averts her eyes—“friends.”

If you don’t already know better, you’d think the pause means something more. That she wants something more. Or that maybe—for just a split second—she entertained the idea of you and her. She let herself imagine the possibility that if she opened herself up to you, together you’d bleed warmth and colour.

“Friends?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. Any second now your chest will break open and the most horrendous, ear-piercing sound will spill out and drown your lungs.

She grabs your hand, the callouses of her fingers scratching against your sensitive palm. The shock of it is as severe as the cut in her brow your fingers have been longing to trace.

Your heart thumps against your chest, and you draw deeper breaths. A kaleidoscope of butterflies kick up a storm in your stomach.

She’s dressed head-to-toe in black, having come here straight from work. There’s a splash of yellow on her feet; a pair of socks you bought her because the pineapples reminded you of her.

Rosa clears her throat, her eyes skidding everywhere else but your face. “We’re friends. I’m not into these mushy feelings shit. So don’t push it.”

Her eyes fall to your mouth, and you roll your lips.

Doesn’t she know how beautiful you could be together? If only she could read your mind; get into your head for a private screening of a day in the life of your life together. A world of stolen kisses, inside jokes and secret touches.

Don’t push it, she says.

A castle in the air—this is the one thing you’ll never hand over. You keep the fantasies to yourself because you’re the only one you trust to keep them safe. Nobody else knows how to give them the love and care they deserve. The universe won’t ever have a chance of grabbing these illusions in its talons and tearing it into shreds.

Life is hard—what’s one more sweet hurt? You’ve lived in confusion and isolation for so long, is it so wrong to finally know to the very core of your being that you’re in love with this woman, and want to hold onto this bittersweet feeling?

Your hands are scarred and scratched from your unrelenting grip on the jagged edges of an unrequited love. But in your head, you’re safe and she loves you back.

Your lips tremble as they’re stretched into a smile that’s all teeth. With a nod, you close your eyes. “All right. Friends.”

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correct me if im wrong but i dont think u ever had to experience the mandatory joys of hebrew school. maybe u did i forget i dont want to make you too jealous here but  i went to hebrew school on thursdays and sundays from 7-14 years old.  hebrew school lasted for just a couple of hours but it felt excruciatingly longer than that.  hebrew school was just like going to school, on top of goin to regular, grade school during the week. that is a ratio of 2 schools to every 1 week!  only a generous masochist would send their child to 2 different schools right?   i think it was worse than regular school though, bc i simply didn't have friends there.  the only vivid encounter i remember with a peer before 5th grade was with Lucas in the second grade, whom my mom delicately tried to pair us together in order to have our conversational sparks ignite, over a luigi video game, like she was trying to start a fire in the wilderness out of uninterested rock and twig.  lucas had a 7 year old mullet and had a lot of confidence.  i didn't like either of those things.  especially the mullet shit bc i was a rat tail or die kind of 7 year old.  after my mom literally accompanied me to hebrew school for awhile and the other kids thought i had special needs, she tried the opposite approach.  she hired the UC berkeley student hebrew school teacher to come tutor me once a week for an hour. this was pretty fucking weird.  my hebrew school was pretty lax and progressive.  in retrospect i realize the institution of the temple sinai hebrew school is much more about socializing with other jewish kids and pretending to memorize the va'haf'tah (or actually memorizing it if you're hannah sternberg and like to impress the rabbi) then to actually embed the jewish youth into intense and arduous jewish centered academia.  so having hairy 21 year old Noam awkwardly sit next to me at my kitchen table and timidly correct my mispronunciations of hebrew words was all a wash if you will.  but my mom was a stubborn mom who wanted her son to carry on the 'teachings of our ancestors' a forcefully sentimental phrase that makes you feel like a melodramatic bible scholar whenever u say it out loud.  thankfully these at home sessions didn't last long because of Noam's scheduling problems.  so for the rest of the fourth grade i was free of hebrew school.  but sooner or later fifth grade rolled around and my parents threatened me with no screen time for a month if i didn't go in. no screen time was a punishment way worse than death so i relented.    

i think it was at this first day of fifth grade hebrew school that shit changed.  2 things changed specifically. 1) i made nate laugh and 2) i made julia laugh.  when i wrote earlier i didn't have any friends in hebrew school i mean like i didn't even have acquaintances.  like i lethargically walked into class, pretended to be invisible for 2 hours, hid the bathroom during break times and waited impatiently after class on the sidewalk scouring the downtown oakland avenues for the plain yet angelic white of my moms 1995 honda oddesey.  i had made people laugh before at regular school i guess .  but there was something different about making hebrew school people laugh... i had somehow broken the social engima of this institution i had distain for, for so long.  not only that... it was a different kind of laugh ... at least coming from nate. i didnt just make nate laugh i made that motherfucker crack up.  watching him laugh was like watching a firecracker go off. like i got him in trouble from the teacher he was laughing so hard and uncontrollably.  making julia laugh was different.  she didnt crack up like nate.  but her laughter was genuine nonetheless and just as euphoric. it felt like whatever i imagine heroin to be everytime i saw her begin to open her mouth and smile and vibrate her whole head because of something i had said.  within the space of 2 hours i had acquired my first hebrew school friend and first hebrew school crush.  i was a fucking social millionaire....i would call this period of time, 5th grade, the golden age.   i could make nate laugh consistently and julia was a similarly consistent vessel to validate my 5th grade ego.  i was closer with nate bc we were both boys , and julia already had a very insular and exclusive trio which was not accepting new members.  herself, hannah, and arielle (who demanded to be called ari which i always was irritated by  she was a fake ari.  her real name was arielle! she was a fraud, imposter! my full name is ari.  i am the real ari.  stupid aside)....time pushed forward and 6th grade began.  several important dynamics changed in 6th grade.  the friends of nate who went to his real, 5 day a week school (st pauls) had been assigned to our 6th grade class.  additionally, puberty was pretty vivaciously in affect and thus social hierarchies were further matured as well as a recognition of elementary sexual thoughts and feelings.  i continued to make nate laugh but i felt like my secret companion was bein taken away by his St paul friends.  in order to combat this i tried to befriend all his friends.  something i learned then and throughout my life almost never works.... attempting to pass as an insider in a group where u are and always be an outsider.   i could make nates friend laugh a little bit but they were much more fond of making each other laugh.  also because they went to school with each other nathaniel (different than my friend nate) and jackson had an air of superiority and seniorirty over me.  even in the 6th grade i think i could detect this kind of unspoken social heirachy at play.  and with julia other guys were starting to make her laugh at hebrew school.  if you want to talk about social heirarchy she was definetly the queen of our class.   as puberty progressed the less cool i became.   bc my only claim to fame socially was humor , but i didnt understand all the other shit.  like dressing cool, talking cool, walking cool., etc.   that otther shit became important in middle school if not the rest of my life... because of this, and the fact im just a fucking shmuck at the end of the day , made julia talk to me less.  and with less talking came less laughing.  nate and julia's laugh was to special to me during this time just less frequent... and therefore more rare.  so when i did get it  from them it felt all that much better.

thhere was a point there end of 5th grade start of 6th grade i looked forward to hebrew school. i looked  forward to sitting down in the creaky, plastic black chairs in room 04 and whispering to nate about how ugly our teacher was.  i looked forward to playing tic tac toe with julia in the art room instead of drawing menorahs, and arguing with her about who had the ineferior tic tac toe skills (she did i got XXX like almost everytime ok) .  i even started to like  the fucking moldy, bookish smell of the temple because i associated it with having good times with julia and nate.

in the 7th grade my connections with nate and julia fell apart uninterestingly and sharply .  my friendships were fading with nate and julia before the year even started ....but of course with 7th grade we entered mid'rasha.  mid'rasha is just hebrew school for teenagers, explained my mom on teh car  ride over to my first mid rasha class.  that may be true for my mom but for me mid rasha was a new world.  a world i did not want to reside in.  midrasha was different in many ways, it was at night, it lumped in loud, sparkly 17 year olds with unsure, gangly 13 year olds in the same room, it was a different bigger campus, it was off.  clqiues were formed immiedatly and it was obvious i was not in the st pauls group.  the group nate was in.  i didnt even see julia at all i think she was   being ultra extroverted befriending the royalty that was 17 year olds who wore sean john and listened to MGMT before it was cool ( this was 2007) .  i went to naybe 5 or 6 mid rashas but i understood the jig was up.  i was no longer a funny person in the room nevermind the funniest in the room.  the teachers were young  attractive college students who you couldnt fun of at all for being ugly.  i wasnt even in the same elective as nate anymore so i couldnt whisper ' ruby is ugly' even if i wanted to.   1 time i did have an art class with Julia.  but now as an ambitious and earnest 13 year old she tackled the assignment sincerely.  i saw her drawing these detailed portraits i thought were gross because they reeked of being  a try-hard.  i just wanted to play tic tac toe.

i stopped going to mid rasha and i didnt see nate or julia again for a while. i didnt see nate until i was a junior in HS and i took the SATs at the high school nate attended.  when we were all getting checked in i saw him at a circular lunch table with his st paul friends.  i walked by him to say hello.  we gave each other a stoic and cold ' whats up dude '  .

the next time i saw julia was at my high school school sponsored dance.  at the time i was nervous as shit bc i did not know how much i would have to dance with my then girlfirend, what kind of dance i would have to do, if i should get mad at other guys dancing with her etc.  a bunch of high school dance inspired neuroses were blossoming in my head.   i was suprised as a motherfucker when i walked into the high school lobby and saw julia sitting a dinky plastic table checking students in.   i remember my brain being blank with confusion.  i walked up to her to get checked in.  she said hi ari with a smile.  the kind of trained smile a social butterfly has deployed many a time.  it was an impersonal smile.  it was warm and cold at the same time.  i said hello took my ticket and left without any small talk or acknowledgement of our hebrew school connection.   i went on to dance with my girlfriend a little but to mostly stand around and pep talk boris into making a move on yael.

i have not  seen either of them since.  i had a dream last night i was in hebrew school in the 6th grade.  julia was sitting across the class room.  she was mad i was looking at her and mouthed for me to stop.  nate was sitting next to me like he normally did in the 5th and 6th grade.  but he wasnt trying to exchange goofy remarks with me about all the flaws of the teacher.  instead he was listening attentively.  i leaned into to whisper somthing but he waved his hand faintly.  he was not to be disturbed

in sophmore year of high school my 'mentor' relayed to me that she was getting reports from teachers that i was exhibiting disturbing and unproductive behavior. disturbing and unproduvtive behavior? i thought.   i was just tryna get motherfuckers to laugh.  i was trying to chase the high of the first time i made nate cry.  i was trying to recreate the time julia was so approving of whatever joke i had made she rubbed my leg as an appreciating gesture and said youre soooo funny.  i never was able to recreate those highs in high school.  that kind of blind temporary euphoria stayed untapped, stored in my memories of hebrew school. my mentor said it was problematic that i was so loud and disruptive in class.  she understood i liked to horse around but she argued ' thats not the real you ari.  we both know you are better than that.  the real you is working hard , studying hard, respectful of teachers and avoiding distrations in class.  this class clown act you put on isnt the real you'  

that kind of pep talk , even at the time , felt weird to me.  who are you , some distant authoratative figure i meet with twice a month , to tell me who i am and who i am not.  and much more importantly beyond that, you tell me my true identity is attached to some golden scholar who wouldnt dare partake in the low life humor of classroom banter.  everything about academia makes me ripe with disgust and disinterest.  the only reason why school has been bareable at all is the social aspect.  making people laugh

during junior year of high school i went through my first break up , i cut friends off , friends cut me off, i went to my first funeral, i had an anxiety attack in jerasulem (symbolic of my relationship with judaism....in my opinoin) i felt increasingly alienated from my wealthy and narrow minded private school brethren, started smoking weed every night before bed and so on .  my mood was bad all the time, i was tired, and the last last last thign i wanted to do was to go to school.  this i now realize is my first bouts of Depression (dun dun duuunnnn).  

it is senior year of highh school now.  the students check in for the first time with their mentors.  my mentor relays to me personal behavioral report -  teachers now view me as quiet and respectful.    teachers are somewhat cognizant of my general apathy towards what is in front of me, but complimentary of my willingness  to put my head down and do the school work given to me.  my mentor is smiling and exclaiming ' see ari you did it!  this is the real you.  this is the hard working and respectful guy i know you have always been.  you dont have time for distractions you have higher priorities now' .  i just wanted the meeting to be over so i nodded my head rapidly in agreement.  however in my mind i thought the current version of myself teachers are describing could not  be further from the real  me.  the real me is still at temple sinai room 04 sitting in those cheap, creaky black chairs.  the real me is shaking nate's arm bc i just thought of a joke about the how ugly the spoken version of hebrew sounds to a non native speaker.   the real me is singing stronger by kanye in an obnxious robotic way , parodying the chorus in order to get julia to chuckle.  the real me has not been seen for or heard from for a while.  the new me is content with surviving the day without any interaction with peers.  the new me doesnt want to be seen.  the real me is still poking julia's shoulder, waiting for her to turn her head