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tessiete · 3 years

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(2) In a world where Anakin doesn’t exist and Qui-Gon is alive and is being an amazing grandpa to Korkie and super supportive dad to both Obi-Wan and Satine… I am 100% sold!! This is such an incredible AU!! I can’t get enough of it! With that being said, do you mind writing more stories set in this world/universe? If you don’t mind, then for the Spotify ask I‘d choose #7 with Qui-Gon, Korkie, Obi-Wan and Satine. However, the ficlet can be based on whatever song you like the most on your playlist

Hello! To my dear @anakin-skywalker-is-my-hero - alright, so I know we talked privately because I wanted to make sure this would be something you liked, and you very graciously let me include Anakin...

But then...

The song you picked was um...”Mommy, What If?” Which is a children’s lullaby, because I like to relive my childhood as often as possible, okay? Yes. Essentially the Canadian version of Sesame Street (Sharon, Lois & Bram), was my #7 Spotify wrapped.

Anyway, that meant that I actually ended up writing a lot more about Korkie & Anakin than anyone else.

Mind blown, they’re only like 3 years apart. Anakin is only 5 years older than Ahsoka. WHAT IS GOING ON OVER THERE!?

So, while in this AU is does very much end up still being Obi-Wan & Anakin, platonic soulmates, right now they’re just too far apart in terms of maturity to make that a thing.

All this to excuse myself, but I do really hope you like this fic! <3333

NO SINGLE EFFORT

Kiorkicek Kryze has learned a secret.

And it’s one he doesn’t think that anyone else around him knows. Not Master Windu, who always looks at him with a frown, but slips sweets into his hands when others aren’t looking. Not Knight Vos, who once let Korkie try out his lightsaber in exchange for his word that he’d not tell Master Kenobi how the glass panel of his datapadd got shattered. And definitely not Padawan Briss, who claimed to have sneaked into the Forbidden Archives one night, and met a ghost that granted wishes to those brave enough to look for him.

There are no Forbidden Archives, and there are no ghosts - he’d asked Master Kenobi - so he’s convinced that Padawan Briss must not know much of anything, let alone his secret.

Masters Jinn and Kenobi don't know it either, he's certain, for they're much too old, and much too serious to even imagine the wonderful thing Korkie has found.

There is a boy who lives in the wall.

Korkie hadn’t known it at first. He’d thought himself quite alone in his room, as he lay awake in his little bed. The light of Coruscant’s city streets were too far below the Temple to be seen, the cacophony of life too distant to be heard, and Korkie’s thoughts far too quick to be quieted by sleep, so to pass the time, he’d tapped out a pattern upon the wall.

After that, he’d knocked again, enjoying the sound. The soft percussive beats fell like rain from his fingertips. He knocked louder, like thunder, striking the wall with the flat of his hand. Then with his littlest finger he knocked as gently as he could, just to see how small a noise could be.

And then, the wall knocked back.

Startled, Korkie cautiously tried again - three sharp raps. And three sharp raps came back. He traded knocks with the wall for hours, until he fell asleep, and then the next night, he knocked again. And so did the wall. Soon, a sort of language developed between Korkie and the echo in the wall. Two small knocks were made in greeting, and two small knocks replied. Sometimes he knocked out the fractured rhythms of Mandalorian marches he recalled, sometimes the taps were secret codes for the echo to decipher. Sometimes they meant nothing at all but comfort. And sometimes, the wall would send its own patterns back.

Then, one day, after a month of such late night encounters, Anakin Skywalker looks at him from over morning meal with his head tilted to the side, his short braid brushing over his shoulder, and says, “Oh, you’re the boy in the wall.”

Korkie feels silly then, for he’d begun to think of the little knocking ghost as his own, something part of himself, held safe between the walls and revealed only to him, at night, in the dark, and alone. But everyone knows about Padawan Skywalker. He is Master Jinn’s padawan. He is bright, and loud, and strange. He is the Chosen One. There is nothing secret about Anakin.

Even Master Obi-Wan seems unsettled by Anakin, and watches him out of the corner of his eye.

But Anakin is afraid of nothing. He gives Korkie an appraising look, staring in a way that Korkie’s mother had taught him was rude, and reaches to take a second helping of yuka seed pudding without asking first. Korkie doesn’t know what to say.

“I’d kind of thought it was only my imagination,” says Anakin, instead.

“I thought you were in mine,” says Korkie.

Anakin talks with his mouth full when he replies, “Well, anyway, I guess it’s better that you’re real. I’d rather a friend who can go places with me.”

So Korkie does. Anakin Skywalker is a whole head taller than him, and comes from a planet with a desert you can live in. He speaks six different languages, and knows about a million ways to slice a droid, but he also is new to the Temple, and doesn’t mind when Korkie needs extra help in finding his way. And in return, Korkie helps him with the other things - the things that Anakin can’t do so well. He helps with his Basic, and remembering when to bow, and in what order. He helps with ID chits, and chain codes, and how to navigate the holonet. He lets Anakin have his commlink when he breaks his own, and doesn’t protest when it’s returned with cinder smudges and scorch marks.

And at night, when everyone is asleep, when Korkie knows that Anakin thinks most of home, he knocks on the wall between them to remind him he is not alone.

And Anakin knocks back.

“What is it that you’re saying to me?” he asks, when next they meet. Master Jinn is always over for tea, and Master Obi-Wan makes frequent calls for counsel, so they are in company more often than not, and more often than not, they choose to be these days.

“Oh, nothing,” says Korkie, prodding at his holocam until a staticky, and uncertain solar system is thrown into the sky. It flickers out of existence just as quickly as it came, and Korkie sighs. “Just old songs my belli used to sing to me.”

“Let me have that,” says Anakin. He grabs the holocam from Korkie’s fingers, and turns it over and over in his hands. “Who’s your belli?” he asks.

“From Mandalore,” Korkie explains. “My buir. Who I came from.”

“Oh!” exclaims Anakin. “Your mom!”

Then he goes very silent for a moment, his brow furrows, biting at his lip and concentrating very hard on the cam in his hand.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to talk about your mom.”

“Oh,” says Korkie. “Why not?”

Anakin shrugs. “Master Jinn says we’re supposed to let go of the past. And my - my mom said we don’t look back.”

Korkie thinks about this, while Anakin pries open the belly of his unit, prodding at the silicon innards.

“Master Obi-Wan has never said that.”

“Well, does he talk about your belli?”

“No,” concedes Korkie. “She only makes him sad.”

“Like I said,” he says, restoring the metal plate, locking it in place, and handing the device back. “Try it now.”

Korkie thumbs the switch, and the two boys are caught in the orbit of a million worlds, and a billion tiny stars. They rotate through the air, casting glittering light over their faces, and the burnished glow of their hair.

“Perhaps they don’t say anything only because they have no mothers of their own, and they don’t know what it is to miss them.”

“The Jedi don’t have moms or dads,” insists Anakin, scowling at the stars.

“Well, we do,” says Korkie.

Anakin has nothing to say to that, and so emboldened, Korkie presses his suit.

“Maybe, perhaps, we can do both?” he suggests. “Maybe we can talk about them to each other, and not to our masters, and that can be our secret, and that way no one has to be sad.”

For a moment, Anakin says nothing. He sits as still upon his knees as Korkie has ever seen him, his eyes tracking one bright object then the next. Finally, after an eternity, he nods slowly, as if unconvinced, but unable to resist.

“Okay,” he says. “Our secret.”

And Korkie grins in delight.

That night, their mouths pressed to the wall, and then their ears in turn, they speak to each other about their homes.

“Shall I go first, or you?” asks Korkie, his voice low and eager.

“Me,” replies Anakin. “I’m the oldest.”

“Alright. What is your mother’s favourite colour?” He turns his ear to the wall as soon as he has finished, not wanting to miss a word of Anakin’s response. He presses close until the cartilage pinches, and his temple beats out his pulse against the flat.

“Blue,” he says. “Like the skies. Like my eyes. What about your mom?”

“Blue, too!” he says, and in his excitement, he nearly forgets himself. “And my eyes are blue like yours.”

“Of course,” comes the voice. “We are brothers, after all.”

They sit in silence for a moment after that, because it is difficult to speak through the wall. It is hard to be precise, and harder still to think of good questions. None of them really show anything about what it is they miss most.

“Did your mom ever sing to you at night?”

“Yes,” says Korkie. “Did yours?”

“Yeah. And during the day. Everyone sings on Tatooine. To tell the time.”

“Sing me one,” says Korkie, “For late at night.” And he falls asleep to Anakin’s voice humming softly from behind the wall.

In the Archives, Korkie asks him about the song.

“It’s about the market at the Pika Oasis,” Anakin says. “Old women go to sell their fruits, but sometimes, everyone is too poor to buy anything.”

“Could you buy anything?” Korkie asks.

“No. We were always too poor to buy,” says Anakin. He almost says something else, but changes his mind, and says instead, “I know another one you’d like.”

“Okay!” Korkie agrees.

Anakin checks his shoulder to make sure they’re completely alone, and leans low over his holotext. Korkie leans closer to hear. In a sweet, lilting voice, Anakin sings words that Korkie has known since birth.

“Buir, buir!” he goes. “Te ik'aad pir'ekulor, te ik'aad pir'ekulor par gar, a te kar cuyir dar teh te kebii'tra, bal Ni dar'taylir tion'jor. O meg, o meg, kelir Ni vaabir?”

“That’s Mando’a!” Korkie shouts. His eyes are wide, and his surprise so great that it awakens some holobooks on a distant shelf. They flicker blue, before steadying again, and going back to sleep as Korkie wrestles his emotions back into a respectable form. “How do you know Mando’a?”

“My mom,” says Anakin, smiling like a felinx. “She learned from the traders, and then she taught me.”

“Sing it again,” Korkie demands.

So he does, and when he’s finished, Korkie frowns and tugs on his own short braid.

“It’s almost right,” he says. “But you sound funny.”

Anakin bristles. “That’s exactly how I learned it.”

“No, no,” says Korkie. “It’s just the tune. It should be more like this.”

And that night, Korkie sings Anakin to sleep as he recalls the strange reciting tones of his belli’s gentle voice.

This goes on until one day, Master Jinn tells Anakin - who informs Korkie in turn, who then tells his master who, of course, already knows - that they have been assigned a mission. They are being sent to a nearby Core world in order to mark the first anniversary of a long-awaited conurbation of planets.

Anakin is thrilled.

Master Qui-Gon is calm as ever as he lays his hand along Obi-Wan’s forearm, and presses a palm to his cheek.

“We’ll return soon,” he says. “And under far less duress than the last time we ventured forth.”

Obi-Wan smiles, but it is a grim little thing, and Master Jinn’s words do nothing to chase the tremulous shadows from his eyes.

“It’s only a few days,” agrees Anakin. “And we’re going to attend a banquet!”

He grins at Korkie, who feels similarly uneasy. He sidles closer to the thick folds of his master’s cloak, and reaches up to find buried between them his father’s hand. His palm slides easily into Obi-Wan’s and they take comfort in how they cleave to each other.

“Be careful,” says Master Obi-Wan.

“Always, my padawan,” replies Master Jinn.

They leave without a backward glance, and Korkie eats alone with his master that night.

It is only later, after the sun has set, and he’s tucked tightly beneath the soft blankets of his bed, that Korkie reaches out to knock against his wall, and is surprised when no one knocks back.

He knocks again, but still, he is alone, and in the silence of his lonely room, he begins to cry.

He knocks, and weeps into the down of his pillow, and weeps, and knocks again.

And then, someone knocks back.

But the sound comes from his door, and is followed by the hiss of pneumatics, and the warm spill of light from the hallway beyond.

“Kiorkicek?” calls his master, with the light at his back. “What’s wrong?”

He cannot say, and only cries louder, calling out for his master, and relief from the dark. The Jedi doesn’t hesitate. He sweeps into the room, the edges of his robes gilded with bronze, and leans over to pull Korkie into the cradle of his arms. He clings to his father, his legs kicking free of the blanket to wrap about his waist, and his arms thrown about Obi-Wan’s neck.

But though he reaches for Obi-Wan like he reached for his mother, it doesn’t feel the same. His father holds him, but doesn’t rock him in his arms. He rubs circles on his back, but does not press a kiss to his brow, or stroke his hair. He whispers in his ear, but he does not speak his tongue. He is nothing like his mother.

Until he starts to sing.

It is not a song of Mandalore, or of desert markets in the Outer Rim. It is neither happy, nor sad, but something balanced in between, like dawn. He sings of night. He sings of light. And he sings of them, together, promising himself to Korkie until time beyond knowing.

Gradually, his breathing calms, and his cheeks dry, and he goes willing, and boneless back beneath the covers as Obi-Wan tucks them both into the narrow confines of Korkie’s bed.

“Is that a song from your belli?” murmurs Korkie, held close to Obi-Wan’s chest.

“No,” Obi-Wan whispers, so quietly that only the stirring of golden hair may mark it. “It is a song from the Jedi,” he says. “It is a song from Master Jinn.”

And together, they fall asleep.

#korkie kenobi #korkie kryze #qui-gon jinn #obi-wan kenobi #my fic #prompt fill

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badbookreviewclub · 4 years

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Empress Theresa, Chapter 1

(This is a direct transcription of my tweets, so I apologize if it gets choppy at times) DISCLAIMER: Please read the preface before you continue on! PAGE 1 This is a terrible start to the book. There's nothing here to gain the interest of the reader nor is there anything that could potentially give you a clue to who Theresa is. You get who her parents are, but nothing about her parents (e.g. If they're important people) "I was the Princess in the Sullivan clan of Framingham, Massachusetts because besides being cute I was a whiz in school and had a good disposition." This sentence makes me die inside every time I re-read it. What does it even mean to have a 'good disposition'? This is the first time I've ever read someone describing themselves as having a 'good disposition'. "All the relatives expected great things from me." And then not even a paragraph later it says; "Nobody could have dreamed of what I would do a few years later, and nobody would have believed it if they'd been told." This is a conflicting message here, Theresa. Did they expect great things from you or did nobody expect you to do anything big? "Prime Minister Blair said I'd still be remembered in a million years." Okay, so we know that you're doing something big now, but you just introduced a character who we don't know. At all. What's the context behind all of this? What kind of person is Prime Minister Blair? "Did you catch that?" Yes, I fucking caught that. You literally just said it. "Churchill, Hitler, and Lincoln..." I don't like the way that these are ordered. It's alphabetical, but going in historical context would sound nicer in my opinion. "Lincoln, Hitler, Churchill..." That's not even counting that she just compared herself to being greater than Hitler. There are so many other people who are better that could have been brought up here and not someone who committed mass genocide and traumatized humanity. Directly after that, Charles Martel is brought up in a long paragraph that sounds like someone who just watched a documentary and is eager to share everything they just learned with their friends who could not give less of a shit. It's pointless to have it there and adds nothing. "...but Prime Minister Blair said I'd be remembered for a million years." You said that not even a paragraph ago. I didn't forget, I promise. I may have the attention span of a peanut, but my short-term memory isn't completely dead. Though my last few brain cells may be dead after I finish all 465 pages of this monster. "I was the last person you'd expect to earn this accolade." Contradicting to what you said earlier of all your relatives expecting big things of you. Not to mention, I don't know who you or anyone else is yet Theresa. I can't fucking say if you would be the last person expected "When this story began I was a little girl who didn't have much of a clue about anything." Why not start the story here? It's far better than that big ramble you just had. This is far more interesting than "I'm Theresa, the younger daughter of blah blah blah." "My job as a kid was to figure out what the heck was going on and what to do about it. It's not easy when you're young and everything is brand new." No shit honey. Except the thing is, life is so much easier when you're younger. you don't have to worry about taxes. Or your employer forgetting to mail you your W-2. Or if your employer does mail you your W-2 but your mail-lady delivers it to the wrong house so some random person has your W-2 and social security number now. You don't have to worry about that as a kid. Life as a kid is easy. ide note: The text in this book is fucking huge. Like it was written so children could easily read it. PAGE 2 The way the first paragraph on this page starts out is jarring and throws the reader out of any flow that may have been there before (There wasn't one there before, but I digress). It then is quickly followed by her father making a comment to her about being the captain of her ship, without actually being a quote from him. It would have been more interesting if it was a direct quote from her father rather than just a passive memory with how she phrases it. What is says is, "He said I had to be the captain of my ship, but sometimes the seas would be rough." Which is poor phrasing in my opinion. There are far better ways to phrase this that give some more character and depth to the relationship between Theresa and her father. A better way to phrase it would be; "He said 'You have to be the captain of your own ship. Sometimes the seas will be rough, but you need to keep pushing through it until you find smooth seas again.'" However, it's not phrased like this or anything remotely close to this. It's then followed very quickly by saying "I had to learn all I could about the world." How does this relate to what your father told you in any way shape or form? I am so confused and feel like what your father told you was completely disregarded or misinterpreted. "I wondered why should I be worrying about it in the fourth grade? I'd soon find out." My Grammarly is kicking in and telling me that 'worrying' is used wrong here. This is a direct quote from the book, and I have to agree. Once again, this relates nothing to what was just said. I want to scratch this entire page out so far, but I've refrained from doing so. Then we come to the first paragraph I have completely scribbled out. I hate it so much. It is a shit paragraph in every way humanly possible. It relates nothing to the first sentence and could completely be ignored and taken out of the book without changing anything. “Everybody has pressures. There are two kinds. One is threats to your life and health. I had more than my share of that with a thousand assassins wanting to get me. The other kind is bearing responsibility for other people's lives and welfare. That's really tough if you care... ...about them. I set new world records in that department. People were sure I'd crack under the pressure, but I didn't. It will take smarter heads than mine to figure out why not." There is so much I want to say about this paragraph that I can't express in words, just guttural, angry screams. I scribbled it out for a reason and that reason still stands true. It is complete and utter shit. Side note: "It will take smarter heads than mine to figure out why not." Thank you for the reassurance that you're a dumb shit, Theresa. I needed it. "I'll be telling my own story which is a good thing because nobody knows it as well as me." We are already all well aware this is an 'autobiography' at this point, Theresa. There's no need for you to tell us that. The fucking point of an autobiography is to tell your own story. More scribbled out sentences about her saying that there's stuff she can't know because she wasn't there. Then she comments on a conversation between Prime Minister Blair (who we still know nothing about) and President Stinson (a new character who we also know nothing about) and how they were talking to each other on the phone. Theresa then assumes that P.M. Blair and President Stinson were talking about how they would stop her if she got out of control. How pig-headed can she get? Not everything is about you. The entire world doesn't revolve around you, bitch. Except, oh wait, in this book, it does! Another scribbled out section I scribbled out so horribly I can barely read it. I will do my best to write it down here so you can suffer with me. "But remember you'll learn things in the same sequence I did. Somebody else telling my story could only say what I did... ... in the world. They couldn't get in my head like you will. You'll see what a horrible, worldwide mess I had to deal with." Ah. I remember why I scribbled it out so badly now. Because it's garbage. Even more so than the first paragraph that I tried to destroy. She's just repeating the fact that this is a fucking autobiography. I've read good autobiographies, where you actually get into the author's mind. So far, this shit isn't it. "My story began quietly with no hint of what was coming." All of that before was pointless. And I will tell you now, most of the details that come after are pointless. This book refuses to be clear and concise, which is a good thing a good majority of the time. The book started terribly and wrote the whole tone for the first few pages, and so far, I'm more upset than when I started. Sidenote #2: After this I'll try to do Chapters in these tweet chains, mentioning (for the most part) the stuff that stands out the most to me. Unless I run into a page that is truly the worst thing ever. The Rest of Chapter 1 Starting on page 3 Starting off strong, I scribbled out the entire first paragraph because it's all terrible. It's Theresa describing her older sister who has absolutely no importance to the story whatsoever and then stroking her own ego by boasting about how... ...she's a whiz in school and her sister isn't. "She's thinking of going to one of the many trade schools in Boston after high school Mom and Dad said I should go to college." These two really don't share any correlation to each other besides being education after highschool. Not to mention, I think Norman, the author, is strongly trying to suggest that trade school isn't nearly as good as university or college when that couldn't be less true. Trade school is just as valid as a university or a college. You gain new skills and can enter a career far... ...quicker than you could at a 4-year university and then some if you're going for a Masters or P.H.d. in your chosen field. Also, I really hate Twitter's character limit. It's fucking stupid and makes these reviews hard as hell to write out. Theresa drags things out more, shares a story that seems currently irrelevant about her mother seeing a fox that came and sat in front of her six months before she was born. (Keep this in mind. Six months before Theresa was born). Theresa even says that this strange... ...event seemed unimportant and that her parents forgot about it for 18 years. Fuck, if something like that happened to me, I'd forget about it too. I certainly wouldn't remember it 18 years later. I can barely remember what I had for breakfast last week. And then more than halfway down the page, Norman finally starts the fucking story. Theresa's doing some summer reading for school when she sees a fox walking along the edge of the woods. The fox ducks into the woods before walking back out, which is completely... ... irrelevant and yet for some reason, Norman felt it was important to include despite the fact it adds nothing and just feels like lazy writing and editing. Speaking of editing, I am dead convinced that Norman didn't have an editor for this book or even look over a chapter... ...after he wrote it. "In an instant, faster than you could blink an eye, a softball sized white light emerged from the fox and went straight into my stomach." Besides being poorly written, keep in mind the fact that she just said it was in the blink of an eye. Theresa goes inside and has a pointless as fuck conversation with her older sister about seeing the fox. Rather than like any rational person who might glance outside to look because apparently seeing "Foxes in the daylight never happens" as Norman puts it, she just says that... ... the fox won't hurt her before going back to the living room never to be mentioned again for another 12 pages or so. Theresa assumes that because she hasn't eaten yet she's hallucinating or having a vivid daydream, so she goes to eat and we get an unnecessary description of... ..what she makes. We also get this gem of a line; "At age ten I was already conscious of my weight and tried to stay skinny." There is so much wrong with this that I can't even put it into words. So. So. So much. Specifically the 'at age ten' part too. More weird phrasing and poor writing later and Theresa determines that yes, it must have been that she hadn't eaten anything because after eating she feels less worried about it. Then there's a HUGE fucking heat spike according to Norman. Enough so that the firemen have to get involved to see what the fuck is up. Theresa somehow has this meta-knowledge that this has to do with the white light that jumped into her stomach. Long story short, someone called the firemen because the heat spiked up so massively and they thought it might be a fire without going outside or looking around to see if it actually was a fire. We get an absurdly long and very dull section about how the firemen started poking around trying to figure out if it was underground or not, which is completely unnecessary and adds nothing to the story in my opinion. I have scribbled it all out because it's all shit. Then we get another fucking gem that Norman uses a total of one time and never brings up ever again. It gave me an idea that would have made this book far more interesting than it ended up being, but it's never mentioned again. Its sole purpose for existing was to give Norman... ... an excuse as to why Theresa didn't talk to anyone. "My Cousin Mary was diagnosed a schizophrenic and the whole Sullivan clan was biting their nails waiting for the gene to show up in some other family member. It wasn't going to be me! I resolved to never tell anybody... ... Not even my parents would know. They'd think I was ill like Cousin Mary. I didn't need it." This alone caused me so much anger I put down the book and didn't pick it up again for a good couple of hours. I honestly don't feel like I need to explain why this is so terrible. But as for the idea it gave me, the book could be far better if it turned out that Theresa was schizophrenic. That this was all a hallucination. It would explain a lot of her actions later on in the book, especially when she experiences extreme paranoia. Well, Norman doesn't call it paranoia. It's just Theresa being 'super smart and know just what's up'. We learn shortly after that there are government officials who turned up to watch 'someone' (spoilers: It's Theresa). Somehow everyone knows they're officials despite... ... never approaching them and instead trusting the word of a neighbor who said the police approached them, were shown badges by these officials, and then the police left them alone afterward. Theresa somehow knows that these people are here to watch her and for some reason... ... she calls the operator to see if they're spying on her or have her phones tapped. I guess this is just supposed to be common knowledge that if you call the operator and ask them for a number and if there's a delay they then you're being spied on? After all, it's not like the operator is human and they take time to look up numbers and whatnot. But this time around there's not a delay so Theresa concludes that they aren't listening to her. Not sure how this makes sense, but okay. Theresa and her mom decide to go shopping and Theresa spends the entire time thinking that men are following her everywhere. Despite the fact that it's a public space and they're different men. The first instance is at the parking garage, where someone parked close to them... ... and then followed them to the surface. Then they go to a very popular and big brand book store, Barnes and Noble, and Theresa sees a different man who she thinks is watching her as well. She goes to the second floor by herself because I guess her mom is okay with that. When I was ten, my mom wouldn't let me wander over to the next aisle to look at stuff no matter how much I insisted. So you know, not judging her mother's parenting skills, but I'm lowkey judging her mother's parenting skills. After that they go to McDonalds and another man gets in line behind them and leaves around the same time they do. Theresa thinks that this man is also following her. And then, a man who was on the corner started walking in their direction. For some reason, Theresa thinks all... ... these people are spying on her. Which is total bullshit in all honesty and is incredibly paranoid behavior. However, Norman doesn't write it that way and instead writes it as Theresa just knowing what the fuck is up. When she gets home, Theresa calls the operator again and this time, instead of taking half a minute to get the number, the operator takes a minute. Please tell me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty certain that doesn't mean that someone has tapped your phone. Aside from that, I've also started to realize just how much Norman really likes to be as precise as he can be with his numbers and it's super fucking annoying to read and I wish that I didn't have to read it. But I am. Blah, Blah, Blah, more boring stuff and then Theresa goes to a movie story with her mom. She gets 2001: A Space Odyssey and apparently that's super, super fucking important because that's how the officials know that Theresa has an alien inside of her. I don't see the... ... correlation but you know what, maybe it's just me who's a dumb shit and Norman was right all along. Besides that, the movie is also super important because Theresa names that white ball of light that flew into her that she dismissed because she thought she was hungry. However, that's just something Norman seems to have conveniently forgotten right now and Theresa has just accepted the fact that it really did happen. "Mom did most of the grocery shopping on Saturday and I usually went with her because Catherine wandered off with her friends." Someone, please tell me how the first part really relates to the second part because I can't make sense of how your sister not going... ... to hang out with her friends would keep you from going with your mom to go grocery shopping. Especially when there's a seven-year difference between you two. One of the gov't officials approaches Theresa when she's alone in the cereal aisle (once again, judging her mother's skills as a parent), and tells her to call her when she's alone. That seems vaguely pedophilic to me, but that might just be me. Either way, Theresa somehow knows that this woman is working for the officials who are watching her. We get another paragraph of a line; "The woman knew that I knew about my watchers. I had often stared at them. So this woman also knew I had to think she was one of them and I... ... had to be curious enough to talk to her." This is so convoluted and overthought. I hate it in every way shape and form. It's so damn repetitive and gets repeated several times throughout the next few paragraphs. But I digress. Theresa goes home and goes to her room and pulls out her cellphone and calls the woman. We found out her name is Jan and we get the most boring conversation in the history of conversations. Yet for some reason, Norman has the audacity to say that... ... it is the most important interview since Moses came down from the mountains. I don't read the Bible, but as far as I'm aware, Moses was never interviewed after he came down with the 10 commandments. Correct me if I'm wrong. Theresa describes the white ball of light in so much detail that you realize, there's no fucking way she could have been able to see all of it if it was "faster the blink of an eye." So I guess Norman conveniently overlooked that part.1 Theresa says she named the white ball of light HAL from the movie. I don't see why, but she did. More boring as fuck conversation giving us the information we already know. We know that the woman's name is Jan now. Jan tells Theresa that they're always watching and listening... ... to her. After reading this I am under the belief that Jan should never ever be allowed to handle any cases dealing with children ever again because she uses so many fear tactics that would absolutely terrify a child. Jan also tells Theresa that she can't talk to anybody or tell anyone about HAL. I don't know about you all, but when I was younger, and someone told me not to tell anybody about something that involved me, I really wanted to tell someone about that thing. More boring as shit exposition that's poorly written and then we jump forward a few days. This is where my suspicions about Norman loving being super precise with numbers were confirmed. He also goes into way too much detail about gardening and weed pulling. Anyways, this is where we learn that Theresa has an aimbot basically. She woke up with a small orange dot in the center of her vision and automatically assumed it had something to with HAL. But she learns it's an aimbot because she can throw rocks and hit a watering can no... ...matter how far away she is from it. She then says it has no use, but I think Norman means that it has no practical use. It has plenty of uses, just not many can be applied to everyday life. Pretty quickly after Theresa finds out she has an aimbot she wants to play baseball with a neighbor boy so she goes to his house and talks to his mom asking to play with him. Except Norman doesn't write 'his mom', no, Norman writes 'The mother.' The Mother. The one true mother of all mothers. The queen of mothers. The mother that all mothers descended from. She is THE Mother. Aside from calling her 'The Mother' over and over again, Theresa tosses the baseball back and forth and doesn't miss no matter what. She comments constantly on how bad Tommy (the neighbor kid) is at this. Eventually Tommy's dad (referred to as 'The dad')... The Dad. The one true dad. The one Dad to rule them all. The Dad that all Dad's descend from. He is the ultimate Dad. He is THE Dad. ... comes out and takes over for Tommy, playing baseball with Theresa. I don't know why, but this came off the wrong way when I was reading it and just didn't seem right. Norman becomes even more repetitive in his writing, "This was August and it was very hot. "Let's call it quits, Theresa" the father said. "It's getting hot."" More shit I scribbled out because it's fucking horrible. Basically so you don't have to live through the same hell I did, I'll summarize even more. Theresa gets super strength because of HAL. She knows this because she broke a steak sauce bottle white trying to open it... ... because she was eating a steak for lunch. Because ten-year-olds can cook steaks for lunch. When I was ten I could barely fucking cook macaroni and cheese for myself. This is all boring as shit but the super-strength makes Theresa want to go and talk to her priest. Father Richard, who is also referred to as Father Donoughty later on (which make me think of the name Father Dick Doughnut ngl). Anyways, Theresa doesn't think her mother could just ask Father Richard about what she didn't want to talk to her about, thinking that priests... ... are bound to secrecy. I don't think they are but I'm not religious so how the fuck would I know. Anyways, Theresa shows she has super strength and blatantly states that the priest probably thought she was possessed by a demon but after going out to talk to Jan he believes... ... otherwise. And with that conversation between Father Dick Doughnut, we get the worst dialogue of all time. So you can suffer with me this time, I'm typing it all out. "These men don't know everything. Only I do. What did Theresa say?" (Jan) "I'm not at liberty to say." (Father Dick) "It's not the usual stuff?" "It isn't." "It's critical you can tell no one. Theresa will be the first to suffer. People will come after her. They'll kidnap her, kill her, or worse." "Who are you?" "I work for the American government" "How many of you are there?" "Hundreds" "That's a lot of people." "Do you understand how important this is?" “I'm beginning to." First of all, boring as fuck. Second, what is worse than being killed? You're fucking dead. I don't think much can actually top that. Third, I don't know if he's asking how many are watching Theresa or how many are working for the gov't. Either way, stupid question. After that absolutely immersive conversation, Father Dick Doughnut says he needs to call the cardinal to have them come watch Theresa. This seems really extreme in my opinion. As far as I was aware, a cardinal has far more to take care of than one little girl... ...at one church in a town that I don't think is that big. Even a bishop probably wouldn't spend their time focusing on that and they're two steps down from a cardinal. But no, Theresa is just too fucking important. Why not just have the Pope get involved now? Or is that... ...too much for you to handle Norman? Ugh. This entire chapter just fucking sucks and it's only the first chapter. Blah, Blah, Blah, Theresa's story about an alien being inside of her is confirmed because Jan said so and she works for the 'government'. Then we get a huge fucking jump over her fifth-grade year where Theresa gets to jump from fifth grade to seventh grade because her hair started to grow in thick thanks to HAL. Apparently, this is a sign of her 'emotional maturity'. I don't see the correlation. At all. At the very end of the chapter Theresa makes the claim that there are "four hundred" people watching her and that's how many people it takes to watch someone 24/7 without being caught. That seems like bullshit to me. In fact, that seems like the fastest way to get caught. It takes maybe 4 to 8 people at most in my opinion to watch someone day and night. But no. Theresa is just too fucking important for only 4-8 people. She needs 400. I forgot to mention earlier, but only the high ranking officials know about why Theresa is being watched. As far as I'm aware, there are only about 20 high ranking officials who know why Theresa is being watched. That leaves 380 people who have no fucking clue just what the hell is going on or why they're watching an 11-year-old girl. That's absolutely absurd. Something I forgot to mention earlier is that Jan claims something came from space 7 years ago and they lost track of it. She assumes that thing is HAL. Keep that in mind 7 years ago. But the fox that Theresa's mother saw was almost 11 years ago. And the fox is what gave... ... Theresa that ball of light. Norman loves to be precise with numbers, but he can't even keep his own fucking storyline straight. This book is hell. But I will keep reading because I apparently love to torture myself.

#empress theresa #empress theresa review #bad book #bad book reviews #chapter 1

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cathygeha · 3 years

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REVIEW

The Hate Project by Kris Ripper

The Love Study #2

Adored this Carina Adores romance! It had me smiling, caring, chuckling, and hoping for the best for two rather prickly characters. I will say that the story grew on me and I was not enamored at all by the end of the first chapter BUT by the end of the second chapter I was invested and wanted to know what would happen.

What I liked:

* The slow build of the relationship

* That the two men were not “easy” to love from the first moment you met them

* The group of friends that go by a name that would be censored if I typed it in her…they are there for one another no matter what.

* Being able to read and understand this book without having read book one in the series first

* Stepping into a world that is not my own

* Oscar: anxiety plagued, quirky, caring, organized, interesting, a person that as explained helped me understand better someone I know.

* Jack: bright, cautious, caring, loves his grandmother, a person with potential that is tapped in this story.

* That both characters became more and more real as I read, I was invested in them and their HEA was something I truly wanted them to achieve.

* Evelyn: Jack’s grandmother is a character and oh so lovable!

* The way the hoarding aspect of the story was handled

* Finding out what “The Secret” was

* All of it really except…

What I didn’t like:

* Having to say goodbye to the characters when the book ended…

Thank you to NetGalley and Harlequin-Carina Adores for the ARC – This is my honest review.

5 Stars

The Hate Project by Kris Ripper is available in eBook, trade paperback and audiobook formats on April 27th!

BOOK DESCRIPTION

This arrangement is either exactly what they need--or a total disaster

Oscar is a grouch.

That’s a well-established fact among his tight-knit friend group, and they love him anyway.

Jack is an ass.

Jack, who’s always ready with a sly insult, who can’t have a conversation without arguing, and who Oscar may or may not have hooked up with on a strict no-commitment, one-time-only basis. Even if it was extremely hot.

Together, they’re a bickering, combative mess.

When Oscar is fired (answering phones is not for the anxiety-ridden), he somehow ends up working for Jack. Maybe while cleaning out Jack’s grandmother’s house they can stop fighting long enough to turn a one-night stand into a frenemies-with-benefits situation.

The house is an archaeological dig of love and dysfunction, and while Oscar thought he was prepared, he wasn’t. It’s impossible to delve so deeply into someone’s past without coming to understand them at least a little, but Oscar has boundaries for a reason—even if sometimes Jack makes him want to break them all down.

After all, hating Jack is less of a risk than loving him…

The Love Study

Book 1: The Love Study (available now!)

Book 2: The Hate Project (available April 27)

Book 3: The Life Revamp (coming November 30)

Add The Hate Project to your Goodreads!

EXCERPT

I’d never had friends until college. And even then, I wouldn’t have had friends except that Ronnie and I were freshman year roommates (before she transitioned, obviously), and she was friends with Dec and Mase and Mia, and they came around a lot and just sort of looped me in. It happened slowly over that first year and suddenly I had…friends.

What’s that thing with snake poison, where you take it in small doses every day to grow your immunity to it? That’s what happened with the Motherfuckers. Eventually I built up a tolerance to their, like, happiness and friendliness and optimism. Now my brain just recognizes them as a part of me. The same thing probably happened to them: eventually they built up a tolerance to my moods and freak-outs.

The most important thing you need to know about my friends is that they’re all way better people than I am. You can tell because they threw me a pity party. There’s the aforementioned Declan and Sidney, who got together during the commission of a video series called The Love Study on Sidney’s YouTube channel. Then there’s Mia and Ronnie, disgustingly married to each other. And the last of the official Motherfuckers is Mason, who once tried to get married (to Dec) and was left at the altar (by Dec). Which was awkward for a while, but now it’s fine. Though of all of us Mase is the one who wants a white picket fence and 2.5 kids.

Sounds fucking awful to me, but to each his own, I don’t judge, whatever floats your life raft, et cetera.

Since I didn’t want to get my impotent rage-slash-panic germs on anyone, I took up a seat in the corner and didn’t leave it except to use the bathroom and acquire victuals. By which I mean vegan, gluten-free, cauliflower-based pizza that turned out to be delicious. It used to be that my friends had an informal rotation for who’d sit with me, trading off for the duration of the social event, but that was before Jack. Jack was new to the group. Dec had collected him from work, and for reasons I didn’t understand (I would have suspected sexual favors if I didn’t know better), he kept mostly showing up to drinks with the Motherfuckers. And was now also on the invite list for ad hoc gatherings to celebrate catastrophic job loss.

Jack and I had no other setting with each other than arguing. Since neither of us was all that nice (and everyone else in the Motherfuckers was very nice), it worked out. He thinks he knows everything, I definitely know everything, and even though for the most part we would arrive at the same point from different angles, we spent most of our fights poking at each other’s angles to prove they were incorrect.

I probably shouldn’t have been surprised when it turned out bickering was actually foreplay.

Since the party was in my honor I was obligated to stay through dinner, and I did. In my corner. Weathering the well-intended reassurances of my friends was hard enough, but when Dec brought out one of those quirky adult card games where kittens exploded I had to get the hell out of there. Too much goodness on a bad day.

Jack apparently had a similar thought. It wasn’t the first time we’d made our escape at the same moment. This time, instead of parting ways on the sidewalk with a lukewarm we know each other through friends wave, both of us stopped.

He stopped a second before I did, which I immediately decided made him more desperate. It wasn’t charitable, but I believe in keeping track of who has the advantage in any encounter. Even a one-off.

“I live ten minutes away,” he said.

“Good for you.”

His lips twisted a little, from not-smile to not-impressed. “This is a pity fuck, Oscar. Take it or leave it.” With that he turned and made for a black two-door something-something on the other side of the street.

I hesitated. For about five seconds. But following up a pity party with a pity fuck sounded about right. “Just to clarify,” I called as I caught up with him, “I don’t do relationships.”

He hit a button that unlocked his car. “Just to clarify, I’m not offering one.”

Carina Adores is home to highly romantic contemporary love stories featuring beloved romance tropes, where LGBTQ+ characters find their happily-ever-afters.

A new Carina Adores title is available each month in trade paperback, ebook and audiobook formats.

● The Hideaway Inn by Philip William Stover (available now!)

● The Girl Next Door by Chelsea M. Cameron (available now!)

● Just Like That by Cole McCade (available now!)

● Hairpin Curves by Elia Winters (available now!)

● The Love Study by Kris Ripper (available now!)

● The Secret Ingredient by KD Fisher (available now!)

● Just Like This by Cole McCade (available now!)

● Teddy Spenser Isn’t Looking for Love by Kim Fielding (available now!)

● Best Laid Plans by Roan Parrish (available now!)

● Hard Sell by Hudson Lin (coming May 25)

● For the Love of April French by Penny Aimes (coming August 31)

● Sailor Proof by Annabeth Albert (coming September 28)

● Meet Me in Madrid by Verity Lowell (coming October 26)

● The Life Revamp by Kris Ripper (coming November 30)

Buy The Hate Project by Kris Ripper Links

Harlequin.com: https://www.harlequin.com/shop/books/9781335509178_the-hate-project.html

IndieBound: https://www.indiebound.org/book/9781335509178

Walmart: https://www.walmart.com/ip/Love-Study-The-Hate-Project-2-Reissue-Edition-Paperback-9781335509178/964923621

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Hate-Project-Love-Study-Book-ebook/dp/B08FBCCK63

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-hate-project-kris-ripper/1138917233

Apple Books: https://books.apple.com/us/book/the-hate-project/id1526452840

Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Kris_Ripper_The_Hate_Project?id=qpv1DwAAQBAJ

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/the-hate-project

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kris Ripper lives in the great state of California and zir pronouns are ze/zir. Kris shares a converted garage with a kid, can do two pull-ups in a row, and can write backwards. (No, really.) Ze has been writing fiction since ze learned how to write, and boring zir stuffed animals with stories long before that.

Connect with the Author

Website: https://krisripper.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/groups/405062456366636/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Kris_Ripper

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/krisripper/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8053438.Kris_Ripper

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Kris-Ripper

#Kris Ripper #The Love Study 2 #NetGalley #Harlequin #Carina Adores #romance #RomCom #Anxiety #Frienemies #M/M romance #LGBTQIA

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annarellix · 4 years

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She’s Faking It by Kristin Rockaway

MY REVIEW (5*) I loved this story that mixes satire about the world of Instagram influencers and motivational gurus, women's fiction and romance. The author delivers an entertaining and engrossing story that makes reflect, laugh and root for Bree and Trey as there's a lot of chemistry between them and both are clever and likable characters. This is a feel-good story and I appreciated the way Bree turned her life and her relationship with her sister. There's a lot of character development and the author writes well rounded and interesting characters. The storytelling is good and never bores or drags always keeping your attention. It was an excellent and entertaining read, highly recommended. Many thanks to Graydon House and Netgalley for this ARC, all opinions are mine

SUMMARY: Bree Bozeman isn’t exactly pursuing the life of her dreams. Then again, she isn’t too sure what those dreams are. After dropping out of college, she’s living a pretty chill life in the surf community of Pacific Beach, San Diego…if “chill” means delivering food as a GrubGetter, and if it means “uneventful”. But when Bree starts a new Instagram account — @breebythesea — one of her posts gets a signal boost from none other than wildly popular self-help guru Demi DiPalma, owner of a lifestyle brand empire. Suddenly, Bree just might be a rising star in the world of Instagram influencing. Is this the direction her life has been lacking? It’s not a career choice she’d ever seriously considered, but maybe it’s a sign from the universe. After all, Demi’s the real deal… right? Everything is lining up for Bree: life goals, career, and even a blossoming romance with the chiseled guy next door, surf star Trey Cantu. But things are about to go sideways fast, and even the perfect filter’s not gonna fix it. Instagram might be free, but when your life looks flawless on camera, what’s the cost?

AUTHOR BIO: Kristin Rockaway is a native New Yorker with an insatiable case of wanderlust. After working in the IT industry for far too many years, she traded the city for the surf and chased her dreams out to Southern California, where she spends her days happily writing stories instead of software. When she's not writing, she enjoys spending time with her husband and son, and planning her next big vacation.

SOCIAL LINKS: http://kristinrockaway.com/ Facebook: /KristinRockaway Twitter: @KristinRockaway Instagram: @KristinRockway

BUY LINKS: Harlequin: https://www.harlequin.com/shop/books/9781525804564_shes-faking-it.html Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1525804561?tag=hqnweb-20 Apple Books: https://books.apple.com/us/book/shes-faking-it/id1474108410?ign-mpt=uo%3D4 Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/shes-faking-it-kristin-rockaway/1132648654?ean=9781488056376&st=AFF&2sid=HarperCollins%20Publishers%20LLC_7651142_NA&sourceId=AFFHarperCollins%20Publishers%20LLC Books-A-Million: https://www.booksamillion.com/p/9781525804564?AID=10747236&PID=7651142&cjevent=78ca74b6aa5611ea800900d50a240613 Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Kristin_Rockaway_She_s_Faking_It?id=MnClDwAAQBAJ IndieBound: https://www.indiebound.org/book/9781525804564 Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/?utm_source=walmarthybrid&utm_medium=Affiliate&utm_campaign=HarperCollins.com&utm_term=hqnweb&ranMID=37217&ranEAID=MdXm68JZJz8&ranSiteID=MdXm68JZJz8-Jf_ENGaaMMIEP62YBDjGmA&siteID=MdXm68JZJz8-Jf_ENGaaMMIEP62YBDjGmA

#women's fiction #romance #satire #instagram #graydon house #NetGalley #review

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surveystodestressme · 6 years

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85.

5000 Question Survey Pt. 22

2001. Can you believe that we have only gotten through two fifths of this survey so far? i believe it 2002. What is your opinion of Dave Coulier? i have no idea who that is 2003. If you were to a write a Choose Your Own Adventure book, what would it be about? horror 2004. What was your best find from a flea market, garage sale, ebay or thrift store? huh? 2005. What do you not have enough money for right now? a new car

2006. Do you believe that Teras for Fears were right when they said, “Everybody wants to rule the world?” eh 2007. What is the design on your beach towel? i don’t have a beach towel 2008. What stirs something deep and animalistic inside you? mean fucking people 2009. Have you ever cross dressed (even as a joke)? no 2010. Do you own anything with a rainbow on it? yes lol my boyfriends mom buys pj pants for everyone on christmas and this year she got me rainbow pants with minions on them....... i’ve NEVER even seen despicable me 2011. What would be the worst object for a child to take on a long car ride with you? a loud handheld game 2012. What’s the Best Beatles song in your opinion? help 2013. Why do you suppose that diary sites are more popular with females than males? idk 2014. What do these color combinations remind you of: orange and pink: ice cream pink and green: fruit green and gold: nature purple and gold: idk gold and red: royalty red and white: america blue and grey: the beach 2015. What is one selfish thing you tend to do? let people buy me stuff 2016. When do you think technology will catch up with the Jetson’s? idk 2017. What made you laugh today? my lab partners 2018. Do you ever stick your entries in any of the diary circles? no. 2019. Can you freestyle rap? i could try but it wouldn’t be that good 2020. Are you: stylish? somewhat shiek? huh? smart? i think so 2021. Do you find you self only buying brand name products? i do not care about name brands 2022. Would you ever want to buy an article of clothing or an accessory because you saw a celebrity wear it? i don’t pay attention to celebrities enough 2023. What song do you feel the sexiest dancing to? buttons by pussycat dolls 2024. Who do you know who looks silly when they dance? my dad 2025. Sweaty sex or clean sex? a lil bit of both honestly 2026. Which is more important to you: being kind or being right? i mean both honestly. 2027. Can you do any special dances like swing, tap, or ballroom? i used to do tap 2028. Are you scared of monsters? nada 2029. Who would you like to remind people of? idc 2030. Do you walk to school or do you bring your lunch? neither???? 2031. Rate your skills from one to ten (10 = you are the best at it): socializing: 5 making friends: 5 working with computers: 5 arts: 7 crafts: 7 dancing: 2 skating: 6 talking other people into things: 8 writing: 9 living life to the fullest each day: 5 cooking: 3 gardening: 2 cleaning up after yourself: 9 playing poker: 1 surviving in the woods: 3 managing your time: 8 attracting the opposite sex (or same sex if you prefer)? 4 2032. Have you ever been to an indian reservation? nope 2033. What is going to happen tomorrow that you can celebrate, even if it’s a little thing? idk 2034. Do you save things for special occasions or is everyday a special occasion? i save things. 2035. What is one thing you are terrible at: saving money 2036. What’s your favorite: rap song: love the way you lie country song: we danced industrial song: idk. cover song: cant help falling in love with you punk song: idk odd song: cotton eye joe 2037. What do you get your teacher or your boss for the holidays? not a thing lol 2038. Do you like to read books by Virgina Wolfe? never read any. 2039. What is your favorite tv show from when you were a kid? spongebob 2040. What is now proved was once only imagined. - William Blake. What do you imagine? the future. 2041. What has been passed down through at least two generations to you? nothing 2042. Do we live in a particularly bad age for romance? i don’t think so 2043. Have you ever cheated on someone? nope Do you believe that once someone is a cheater they can never be trusted? yes 2044. Have you ever gone: christmas caroling? nope pumpkin picking? yeah on a hay wagon ride? yes on a romantic valentine’s day date? yeah to a new year’s eve party? a couple times to a memorial day parade? yeah to the Macy’s thanksgiving day parade? maybe in the past to search for gold coins on st patrick’s day? no. 2045. Have you ever done any modeling? nope 2046. Would you consider yourself to be psychologically damaged? not that i can think of 2047. How aware are you of the reasons behind your actions and words? very aware 2048. What is the sickest you ever drank or drugged yourself? i haven’t had any really bad experiences tbh. it’s always a shitty time when i’ve thrown up from alcohol but i’ve never blacked out. 2049. Would you prefer it if clothing was optional? no lol. 2050. What is one interesting fact about you: i collect shot glasses 2051. Are more people depressed because they are alone, or are more people alone because they are depressed? they’re more depressed bc they’re alone probably but there are way more complicated reasons as to why people are depressed 2052. Have you ever gotten a mug, t-shirt, key chain, etc. that was personalized with your picture? no lol 2053. What was the last thing that you experienced for the first time? i don’t know 2054. If you were going to die tomorrow and you were leaving a postcard for someone to read after you were gone what would it say? i dunno. 2055. If you were about to be executed what would your last request be? tell my family that i love them 2056. What kinds of people do you find intimidating? too many people lol 2057. How much conviction do you have in your feelings and beliefs? quite a bit. 2058. In your house where is the: crazy glue? in the junk drawer flashlight? above the snack cabinet 2059. Out of everyone you know who has the most personality? there’s plenty of people lol 2060. If you could go back in time to experience a musical movement or era, which one would you choose to live through? none 2061. Do you suffocate people with your love? sometimes 2062. Do you feel your life is charmed? no. 2063. What character do you identify the most with from Winnie the Pooh? piglet 2064. When do you do your best thinking? in the shower or on the toilet 2065. What motivates you? food 2066. Look back at all the people you’ve dated. Has there been a pattern? not that i can think of 2067. Things change but what will always remain the same for you? i don’t know 2068. Is divorce something you would ever consider or do you feel that marriage is permanantly binding? i would preferably not get divorced. 2069. What’s the strangest movie you ever saw? the abc’s of death 2070. If you could go into virtual reality and set up your life there to be perfect and it would seem real but not be real would you trade your life now for the virtual life? it’d be cool but no 2071. Does it seem like life is more difficult for you than for anyone else? nope 2072. What are you grateful for? everything i have. 2073. What was a choice that you didn’t want to make but you had to? idk. 2074. Have you ever had dental surgery? no. 2075. At what point exactly are you grown up? when you have bills and you feel like you’re drowning 2076. If there was a weight loss procedure that would destroy your ability to taste food so you wouldn’t be tempted by junk food, would you have it done? absolutely not 2077. What is one thing that happened that you never expected? finding someone i love who actually loves me back 2078. If you called one of your friends and they said “It’s nothing personal but I don’t want to talk to anyone right now,” would you take it personally? nah, i’ve had moments like that too so i can understand 2079. What is your favorite girl’s name? i don’t really have one 2080. Do you ever feel guilty for being more fortunate than others? not really. 2081. If you had to wear a shirt with one word on it for a year, what word would you choose? kok 2082. What is evian spelled backwards? naive 2083. You drop 10 pounds of feathers and a ten pound bowling ball off the top of the same building. Which will hit the ground first? they both weigh the same, sooo both 2084. Even though you may never get what you want, are you happy because you’re trying? yes 2085. If you started a petition what would it be about? idk. 2086. When was the last time you asked someone to do something and they said no? everytime i ask jack to do something he says no but does it anyways 2087. Do bad things happen to you on friday the 13th? not that i know of. 2088. What’s your favorite: Madonna song? - John Lennon song? - Michael Jackson song? billy jean Doors song? - Rolling Stones song? - David Bowie song?- Elvis song? cant help falling in love with you 2089. If you had started a relationship with someone and they said that it would be best if no one knew about it just to see how it goes, would you be offended? it depends ig but id feel like they just wanted to hide me 2090. Do you know any self defense? not really How about CPR? i know the concept of it but ive never really practiced or anything 2091. If you had to look into a mirror and see your naked soul stripped of all delusions and pretenses (Never ending Story style)could you handle it? maybe 2092. Are you a genius? no. 2093. How did you find out that Santa Clause wasn’t real? i got a letter from ‘him’ and the handwriting was the same as my dads 2094. Which is your favorite tarot card? i dont do that shit 2095. Does the internet separate people or connect them? both. 2096. Have you ever written a letter to a soldier? my brother and my sister and some of my friends when they were all in the military 2097. Does pain and fear make you feel alive? to a a certain degree 2098. Are you: good looking? yeah thin? no. happy? yes successful? not yet confident? for the most part 2099. Are you decisive or wishy washy? in between. 2100. Do you feel pop stars should be morally responsible to set a good example for their fans? it’s nice but they shouldn’t be obliged to.

#bored #quiz #questions #survey

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k1dbuu · 6 years

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i was thinkin

while i was watching my Trisha Paytas(tm) i thought that i should really have a blog and then i realized i got this wtf why dont i say shit on it lmao

so im finna be more personal here instead of using this blog as like a reblog dump or the shit i wont reblog to my other two blogs

well uh, gonna just talk about iife under all this so if you read up till now thats cool w/e

so recently i’ve been feeling pretty weird and shit like mentally

i’m sorta going through some things, i probably wont go into detail w/ all of them but i’ll talk about one thing because i need an emotional outlet and i dont like bothering my friends with my specific issues

so about last year like at my 8th grade graduation (im in 10th grade rn) my two best friends accidentally outed the living shit out of me to my entire family and it fucked me up bad

like really fucking bad

after that i was confused and angry, like how could you do this to me? the two people closest to me i felt had betrayed me in a way i wouldnt really wish on my worst enemy (thats a lie @ my worst enemy) i hated them, i hated everyone and i felt like i was singled out and i felt weird again

before this i was just coming to terms with my sexuality, like i was sure, i was proud, and i was happy. i didnt care about what a single person thought and it felt like i could do anything and to just have all those feelings and emotions crumble down before me over a mistake as calling me “the gay friend” during a family dinner it sorta broke me and even now it fucks with me crazy and i hate that.

i was scared and paranoid and i didnt know what to do, my plan was to keep it a secret and like tell everyone where i was in a position where if things went for the worst i could just move out and never see them again and i couldnt really do that anymore, i had no plan and no way but to deal with this except cry and wonder what the fuck did i do to deserve it (lmao i did so much asshole shit in the 8th grade im starting to think it was just karma coming back to bite me in the ass jaws style)

for the rest of the summer my sadness eased and turned more into anger and then i started being an asshole to my best friends, telling them shit about how i didnt have to be friends with them and how they dont deserve me and whoever’s reading this, if anybody, dont be that fucking person

dealing with issues like that just makes you seem like the biggest asshole in the world and it doesnt make your friends learn their lesson. soon enough theyll come to the conclusion that they dont have to take any of your shit and then youre crawling back to them because despite the situation between you and them you still love them and shit yeah

anyways fast forward like a week later we’re in august summer vacation is about to end and im thinking i got out of this without anybody pestering or getting in my business and shit which i was so thankful for until it actually happened

so during the summer i’d go visit my sisters house every weekend and she’d drop us off home on sunday, but she started asking me to stay back w/ her in the car to have a ”talk” and shit which automatically raised red flags in my head lmao. luckily for like 2 weeks every time she tried it something came up and i had to go back inside and avoid the talk and then there was like one time i couldnt really run away from it

my sister had told me that what i feeling wasnt true because i actually hadnt had sex at the time and how she heard things from other people before that and in the car i was laughing and shit and i seemed okay but that entire night i was like crying while listening to vocaloid LMAO

i think that was sorta the point where my personality took a 180, i was depressed, i felt like my feelings werent valid, i wasnt sure what the fuck was going on, really. was i really attracted to guys? was it just because i only hung out with chicks? it bothered me to no end and i felt terrible. i laid in bed for the next two days and the rest of my summer was spent trying to figure out what the fuck was wrong with me.

i think a lot of this is because of the new environment, but once highschool started i felt like i was a shell of how i used to act and i wanted my old self back. i wanted to be confident in myself again or have friends to be with all day again and i wanted to feel human again, not like some alien that just arrived on this new planet with nothing in sight that seemed familiar. i started binge eating (nothing new im a fatass) and when i realized how id do this i just stopped eating for weeks, soon enough i got some wicked acid reflux and missed an entire month of school lol

fast foward to now, both friends i still keep in contact to, and for a while now i’ve been coming to terms with how i feel about them. i loved them both but still had a lot of resent towards them because theyre the reason im gonna have to deal with issues i’ll probably have to deal with for some years lol. one moved to cali and i dont really speak to her as much as i’d like to but i guess thats just what happens. the other still lives around here and i talk to her a lot. the other day she had mentioned that she wouldnt trade me for the world and i realized

this person is out here living like the hardest life in the world (listen, man her life is pretty shit but that isnt my business to talk about lol) and like she still cares for me even after all the bullshit we put eachother through and i appreciate that. you gotta like remember that people make mistakes all the time and despite the impact of said mistake shes still human and doesnt deserve the hate. i love her and appreciate her no matter what and even after what shes done i still do

uhhhhh anyway super super sorry for this terribly long post lol. i was supposed to exercise while watching trisha mukbang an shit but got inspired to speak about one of my experiences. im a real blogger guys!!11!1!!!1 first real personal post on this blog. thanks for reading my word vomit up till here and please dont reblog if you want to lol

#personal #getting outed #lgbt poc #storytime #life experience #mit talks

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illbefinealonereads · 4 years

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Today, the Don’t Read the Comments blog tour is stopping by illbefinealone reads. Keep scrolling to learn more about the book, as well as read an exclusive excerpt.

Don't Read the Comments Eric Smith On Sale Date: January 28, 2020 9781335016027, 1335016023 Hardcover $18.99 USD, $23.99 CAD Ages 13 And Up 368 pages

Slay meets Eliza and Her Monsters in Eric Smith’s Don't Read the Comments, an #ownvoices story in which two teen gamers find their virtual worlds—and blossoming romance—invaded by the real-world issues of trolling and doxing in the gaming community.

Divya Sharma is a queen. Or she is when she’s playing Reclaim the Sun, the year’s hottest online game. Divya—better known as popular streaming gamer D1V—regularly leads her #AngstArmada on quests through the game’s vast and gorgeous virtual universe. But for Divya, this is more than just a game. Out in the real world, she’s trading her rising-star status for sponsorships to help her struggling single mom pay the rent.

Gaming is basically Aaron Jericho’s entire life. Much to his mother’s frustration, Aaron has zero interest in becoming a doctor like her, and spends his free time writing games for a local developer. At least he can escape into Reclaim the Sun—and with a trillion worlds to explore, disappearing should be easy. But to his surprise, he somehow ends up on the same remote planet as celebrity gamer D1V.

At home, Divya and Aaron grapple with their problems alone, but in the game, they have each other to face infinite new worlds…and the growing legion of trolls populating them. Soon the virtual harassment seeps into reality when a group called the Vox Populi begin launching real-world doxxing campaigns, threatening Aaron’s dreams and Divya’s actual life. The online trolls think they can drive her out of the game, but everything and everyone Divya cares about is on the line…

And she isn’t going down without a fight.

Buy Links: Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Dont-Read-Comments-Eric-Smith/dp/1335016023 Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dont-read-the-comments-eric-smith/1131303425#/ Books-A-Million: https://www.booksamillion.com/p/Dont-Read-Comments/Eric-Smith/9781335016027?id=7715580291810 Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/don-t-read-the-comments Indie Bound: https://www.indiebound.org/book/9781335016027 Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Eric_Smith_Don_t_Read_the_Comments?id=Go6PDwAAQBAJ

Eric Smith is an author, prolific book blogger, and literary agent from New Jersey, currently living in Philadelphia. Smith cohosts Book Riot’s newest podcast, HEY YA, with non-fiction YA author Kelly Jensen. He can regularly be found writing for Book Riot’s blog, as well as Barnes & Noble’s Teen Reads blog, Paste Magazine, and Publishing Crawl. Smith also has a growing Twitter platform of over 40,000 followers (@ericsmithrocks).

Author website: https://www.ericsmithrocks.com/ Twitter: @ericsmithrocks Instagram: @ericsmithrocks Facebook: @ericsmithwrites

Genre: Young Adult, Contemporary

Rating: 4/5 stars

Review: Don’t Read the Comments tackles some heavy subjects, cyber bullying as one of the main ones. But it’s done beautifully, and though the subject matter is that way, it didn’t make me feel heavy while I was reading it. Eric Smith does an absolutely marvelous job at writing from a first person female POV. His excellent writing style, as well as the pace that perfectly suited the story, made the book unputdownable. I really enjoyed the characters. They felt fresh as they were developed excellently. The dialogue is excellent, it felt natural and flowed really well. All of it put together kept the book feeling dynamic, and entertaining throughout. This is a read that you definitely shouldn’t skip.

Excerpt:

1 Divya

Mom. We’ve been over this. Don’t read the comments,” I say, sighing as my mother stares at me with her fretful deep-set eyes. They’re dark green, just like mine, and stand out against her soft brown skin. Wrinkle lines trail out from the corners like thin tree branches grown over a lifetime of worrying.

I wish I could wash away all of her worries, but I only seem to be causing her more lately.

“I’m just not comfortable with it anymore,” my mom counters. “I appreciate what you’re doing with…you know, your earnings or however that sponsor stuff works, but I can’t stand seeing what they’re saying about you on the Internet.”

“So don’t read the comments!” I exclaim, reaching out and taking her hands in mine. Her palms are weathered, like the pages of the books she moves around at the library, and I canfeel the creases in her skin as my fingers run over them. Bundles of multicolored bangles dangle from both of her wrists, clinking about lightly.

“How am I supposed to do that?” she asks, giving my hands a squeeze. “You’re my daughter. And they say such awful things. They don’t even know you. Breaks my heart.”

“What did I just say?” I ask, letting go of her hands, trying to give her my warmest it’s-going-to-be-okay smile. I know she only reads the blogs, the articles covering this and that, so she just sees the replies there, the sprawling comments—and not what people say on social media. Not what the trolls say about her. Because moms are the easiest target for those online monsters.

“Yes, yes, I’m aware of that sign in your room with your slogan regarding comments,” Mom scoffs, shaking her head and getting to her feet. She groans a little as she pushes herself off the tiny sofa, which sinks in too much. Not in the comfortable way a squishy couch might, but in a this-piece-of-furniture-needs-to-be-thrown-away-because-it’s-probably-doing-irreversible-damage-to-my-back-and-internal-organs kind of way. She stretches her back, one hand on her waist, and I make a mental note to check online for furniture sales at Target or Ikea once she heads to work.

“Oof, I must have slept on it wrong,” Mom mutters, turning to look at me. But I know better. She’s saying that for my benefit. The air mattress on her bed frame—in lieu of an actual mattress—isn’t doing her back any favors.

I’d better add a cheap mattress to my list of things to search for later. Anything is better than her sleeping on what our family used to go camping with.

Still, I force myself to nod and say, “Probably.” If Mom knew how easily I saw through this dance of ours, the way we pretend that things are okay while everything is falling apart around us, she’d only worry more.

Maybe she does know. Maybe that’s part of the dance.

I avert my gaze from hers and glance down at my watch. It’s the latest in smartwatch tech from Samsung, a beautiful little thing that connects to my phone and computer, controls the streaming box on our television… Hell, if we could afford smart lights in our apartment, it could handle those, too. It’s nearly 8:00 p.m., which means my Glitch subscribers will be tuning in for my scheduled gaming stream of Reclaim the Sun at any minute. A couple social media notifications start lighting up the edges of the little screen, but it isn’t the unread messages or the time that taunt me.

It’s the date.

The end of June is only a few days away, which means the rent is due. How can my mom stand here and talk about me getting rid of my Glitch channel when it’s bringing in just enough revenue to help cover the rent? To pay for groceries? When the products I’m sent to review or sponsored to wear—and then consequently sell—have been keeping us afloat with at least a little money to walk around with?

“I’m going to start looking for a second job,” Mom says, her tone defeated.

“Wait, what?” I look away from my watch and feel my heartbeat quicken. “But if you do that—”

“I can finish these summer classes another time. Maybe next year—”

“No. No way.” I shake my head and suck air in throughmy gritted teeth. She’s worked so hard for this. We’ve worked so hard for this. “You only have a few more classes!”

“I can’t let you keep doing this.” She gestures toward my room, where my computer is.

“And I can’t let you work yourself to death for… What? This tiny apartment, while that asshole doesn’t do a damn thing to—”

“Divya. Language,” she scolds, but her tone is undermined by a soft grin peeking in at the corner of her mouth. “He’s still your fath—”

“I’ll do my part,” I say resolutely, stopping her from saying that word. “I can deal with it. I want to. You will not give up going to school. If you do that, he wins. Besides, I’ve…got some gadgets I can sell this month.”

“I just… I don’t want you giving up on your dreams, so I can keep chasing mine. I’m the parent. What does all this say about me?” My mom exhales, and I catch her lip quivering just a little. Then she inhales sharply, burying whatever was about to surface, and I almost smile, as weird as that sounds. It’s just our way, you know?

Take the pain in. Bury it down deep.

“We’re a team.” I reach out and grasp her hands again, and she inhales quickly once more.

It’s in these quiet moments we have together, wrestling with these challenges, that the anger I feel—the rage over this small apartment that’s replaced our home, the overdrafts in our bank accounts, all the time I’ve given up—is replaced with something else.

With how proud I am of her, for starting over the way she has.

“I’m not sure what I did to deserve you.”

Deserve.

I feel my chest cave in a little at the word as I look again at the date on the beautiful display of this watch. I know I need to sell it. I know I do. The couch. That crappy mattress. My dwindling bank account. The upcoming bills.

The required sponsorship agreement to wear this watch in all my videos for a month, in exchange for keeping the watch, would be over in just a few days. I could easily get $500 for it on an auction site or maybe a little less at the used-electronics shop downtown. One means more money, but it also means having my address out there, which is something I avoid like the plague—though having friends like Rebekah mail the gadgets for me has proved a relatively safe way to do it. The other means less money, but the return is immediate, at least. Several of the employees there watch my stream, however, and conversations with them are often pretty awkward.

I’d hoped that maybe, just maybe, I’d get to keep this one thing. Isn’t that something I deserve? Between helping Mom with the rent while she finishes up school and pitching in for groceries and trying to put a little money aside for my own tuition in the fall at the community college… God, I’d at least earned this much, right?

The watch buzzes against my wrist, a pleasant feeling. As a text message flashes across the screen, I feel a pang of wonder and regret over how a display so small can still have a better resolution than the television in our living room.

THE GALAXY WAITS FOR NO ONE,

YOU READY D1V?

—COMMANDER (RE)BEKAH

I smile at the note from my producer-slash-best-friend, then look up as my mom makes her way toward the front door of our apartment, tossing a bag over her shoulder.

“I’ll be back around ten or so,” Mom says, soundingtired. “Just be careful, okay?”

“I always am,” I promise, walkingover to give her a hug. It’s sweet, her constant reminders to be careful, to check in, especially since all I generally do while she’s gone is hang out in front of the computer. But I get it. Even the Internet can be a dangerous place. The threats on social media and the emails that I get—all sent by anonymous trolls with untraceable accounts—are proof of that.

Still, as soon as the door closes, I bolt across the living room and into my small bedroom, which is basically just a bed, a tiny dresser, and my workstation. I’ve kept it simple since the move and my parents split.

The only thing that’s far from simple is my gaming rig.

When my Glitch stream hit critical mass at one hundred thousand subscribers about a year and a half ago, a gaming company was kind enough to sponsor my rig. It’s extravagant to the point of being comical, with bright neon-blue lighting pouring out the back of the system and a clear case that shows off the needless LED illumination. Like having shiny lights makes it go any faster. I never got it when dudes at my school put flashy lights on their cars, and I don’t get it any more on a computer.

But it was free, so I’m certainly not going to complain.

I shake the mouse to awaken the sleeping monster, and my widescreen LED monitor flashes to life. It’s one of those screens that bend toward the edges, the curves of the monitor bordering on sexy. I adjust my webcam, which—along with my beaten-up Ikea table that’s not even a desk—is one of the few non-sponsored things in my space. It’s an aging thing, but the resolution is still HD and flawless, so unless a free one is somehow going to drop into my lap—and it probably won’t, because you can’t show off a webcam in a digital stream or a recorded sponsored video when you’re filming with said camera—it’ll do the trick.

I navigate over to Glitch and open my streaming application. Almost immediately, Rebekah’s face pops up in a little window on the edge of my screen. I grin at the sight of her new hairstyle, her usually blond and spiky hair now dyed a brilliant shade of blood orange, a hue as vibrant as her personality. The sides of her head are buzzed, too, and the overall effect is awesome.

Rebekah smiles and waves at me. “You ready to explore the cosmos once more?” she asks, her voice bright in my computer’s speakers. I can hear her keys clicking loudly as she types, her hands making quick work of something on the other side of the screen. I open my mouth to say something, but she jumps in before I can. “Yes, yes, I’ll be on mute once we get in, shut up.”

I laugh and glance at myself in the mirror I’ve got attached to the side of my monitor with a long metal arm—an old bike mirror that I repurposed to make sure my makeup and hair are on point in these videos. Even though the streams are all about the games, there’s nothing wrong with looking a little cute, even if it’s just for myself. I run a finger over one of my eyebrows, smoothing it out, and make a note to tweeze them just a little bit later. I’ve got my mother’s strong brows,black and rebellious. We’re frequently in battle with one another, me armed with my tweezers, my eyebrows wielding their growing-faster-than-weeds genes.

“How much time do we have?” I ask, tilting my head back and forth.

“About five minutes. And you look fine, stop it,” she grumbles. I push the mirror away, the metal arm making a squeaking noise, and I see Rebekah roll her eyes. “You could just use a compact like a normal person, you know.”

“It’s vintage,” I say, leaning in toward my computer mic. “I’m being hip.”

“You. Hip.” She chuckles. “Please save the jokes for the stream. It’s good content.”

I flash her a scowl and load up my social feeds on the desktop, my watch still illuminating with notifications. I decide to leave them unchecked on the actual device and scope them out on the computer instead, so when people are watching, they can see the watch in action. That should score me some extra goodwill with sponsors, and maybe it’ll look like I’m more popular than people think I am.

Because that’s my life. Plenty of social notifications, but zero texts or missed calls.

The feeds are surprisingly calm this evening, a bundle of people posting about how excited they are for my upcoming stream, playing Reclaim the Sun on their own, curious to see what I’m finding… Not bad. There are a few dumpster-fire comments directed at the way I look and some racist remarks by people with no avatars, cowards who won’t show their faces, but nothing out of the usual.

Ah. Lovely. Someone wants me to wear less clothing in thisstream. Blocked. A link to someone promoting my upcoming appearance at New York GamesCon, nice. Retweeted. A post suggesting I wear a skimpier top, and someone agreeing. Charming. Blocked and blocked.

Why is it that the people who always leave the grossest, rudest, and occasionally sexist, racist, or religiously intolerant comments never seem to have an avatar connected to their social profiles? Hiding behind a blank profile picture? How brave. How courageous.

And never mind all the messages that I assume are supposed to be flirtatious, but are actually anything but. Real original, saying “hey” and that’s it, then spewing a bunch of foul-mouthed nonsense when they don’t get a response. Hey, anonymous bro, I’m not here to be sexualized by strangers on the Internet. It’s creepy and disgusting. Can’t I just have fun without being objectified?

“Div!” Rebekah shouts, and I jump in my seat a little.

“Yeah, hey, I’m here,” I mumble, looking around for my Bluetooth earpiece, trying to force myself into a better mood.

This is why you don’t read the comments, Divya.

#booklr #blog tour #don't read the comments #eric smith #ynaall #yna4 #contempall #contemp4 #out2020 #read2019

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republicstandard · 5 years

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In Search of a Meaningful Identity

I'm not a patriot, but I do always put my people first. The problem with being a patriot is that it binds you to your country, which can be taken over by foreign/subversive entities, and turned into something that doesn't reflect you. Your people, on the other hand, will always be your people. This is the problem that occurs when countries are not based on blood and soil; they become in a sense distant entities from the people they are meant to serve. Conservatives (whom nationalists rightly mock) are in essence the patriots of the modern age, following their country's flag, government and military without considering the lack of a deeper core to their country and identity.

It’s the same with the ‘fandom’ phenomenon which grips many young and even older people. Watching films and television shows now and again is fine, but there is no need for them to dominate your thoughts or life. Media consumption should be a side hobby or for use during downtime, it should not dominate your consciousness. Going to conventions dressed as superheroes, especially when you’re an adult, is a clear sign that you have adopted a shallow persona. People can do so much better.

In times gone by, a patriot would be someone who supported their country, and this was usually fine because their country was homogenous and sought to further their people’s interest. When the Ottomans took Constantinople, it didn’t just further the interests of the Sultan, it furthered the interest of the Turks as well, along with their religion of Islam. And when Spain conquered much of the Americas, it didn’t just benefit the King, but also his country as a whole, because the resources and trade brought back from the colonies lead to Spain becoming the world’s dominant power.

These days, however, it is difficult to see how growing a nation’s economy benefits anybody apart from a tiny clique of billionaires and millionaires. Unlike in the sixteenth century, there are no new foods, materials or treasures to bring back home from newly conquered lands. Instead, we have giant corporations making unprecedented profits and paying little or no tax, while at the same time showing barely any loyalty to the countries from which they are based. In the past, merchant companies and corporations were forced by law (or armed force) to trade in circumstances which benefited the country’s strategic interest. So for example, when Britain was at war with France, British merchants were forbidden from trading with France, to essentially blockade the enemy. It is hard to imagine in this day and age if a great war did occur, that our businessmen would stop trading with our enemies. The level of self-interest and short term thinking are currently so high that people no longer feel a collective sense of duty, and so it would be difficult for any western government, even with legal powers, to force companies to toe the line.

If the West is to recover from its current demographic and cultural Marxist predicament, then it must fundamentally make an effort to regain its soul. This doesn’t just mean expelling millions of migrants and their descendants, it also must encompass much broader criteria. The right/left political dichotomy must be eradicated because until that time nations will be continuously divided. In its place must rise a system where the choice isn’t between a free market and small government or lots of regulation with a bigger government. These choices are shallow and mediocre, and quite literally make no sense. For the past few decades, we have had subversive self-hating idiots on the political left aggressively supporting a welfare state, while on the political right, you have had welfare cutting, free market supporting voters who want to restrict immigration. It doesn’t have to be this way, and nor should it be.

It seems unfathomable that a party that supports both immigration restriction and a sensible version of the welfare state hasn’t emerged successfully in recent times, though there are signs in Europe that are encouraging. Many people, even some in the middle class, simply cannot afford private health insurance; and so if you want your people to be healthy and productive, then you have to accept the option of a single-payer system. If you can accept the government having a military to defend your country, then perhaps the government having an accident and emergency department to defend your body against illness isn’t so bad either.

But away from politics, the future must also care for your planet and environment, which is under unprecedented attack. Of course, the majority of pollution is being caused by India, China and other non-white, developing economies. This doesn’t mean that we can’t look after our own nations’ habitats though, because even in the West large scale house building and fossil fuel exploration are taking its toll. If we are mammals and part of the natural world, then logically this must mean we learn to live with the natural world to some degree.

There also needs to be a strong emphasis on reversing the low birth rates which plague every developed country on earth. The emphasis on the importance of ‘careers’ rather than ‘society’ has been a problem that many simply refuse to acknowledge. Yes, people need to work, however, any government in the future must make having children affordable, whether that be through state subsidies or other initiatives. There’s no point saving your people from mass immigration if they’re going to die out anyway because they refuse to reproduce.

Above all though, we must teach history to our children, and nurture the youngest generation in society to have, throughout their lives, a strong in-group preference towards their own ethnic and racial group. We must never allow the self-hatred in the West to return under any circumstance. The stupidity of today is caused, in part, by the bad education of yesterday. A tribal mindset must be the foundation of any positive future we hope to build, because judging by the last few decades, we have become completely lost without it.

from Republic Standard | Conservative Thought & Culture Magazine http://bit.ly/2VUTIaK via IFTTT

#IFTTT #Republic Standard | Conservative Thought & Culture Magazine

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wesonerdy · 7 years

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Shondaland brings their dark and twisty signature to Romeo and Juliet! Get a sneak peek of tonight’s Still Star-Crossed premiere.

Courtesy of ABC/Bob D’Amico

I haven’t met a juicy period drama that I didn’t love, and now that Shondaland is entering the game, you know things are going to be good.

Most of us probably read William Shakespeare’s Romeo & Juliet in high school. I read it in ninth grade, followed by a screening of Franco Zeffirelli’s 1968 film (cringe-worthy because who wants to watch love scenes with their English teacher and classmates!). There have been several renditions of Shakespeare’s iconic tragedy, including Baz Luhrmann’s 1996 trippy modernization, starring Leo DiCaprio and Claire Danes. I think my favorite is the adaptation for Shakespeare in Love (1998). Watching Joseph Fiennes’ Will Shakespeare derive inspiration for his plays as a result of his relationship with Viola De Lesseps (Gwyneth Paltrow) is positively swoony. And those are love scenes that I can definitely get behind 😉

In any event, it might be difficult to think about how anyone could bring something fresh to this well-known and often-told tale. But as we’ve learned, you can always trust Shondaland to bring a brilliant twist!

Still Star-Crossed actually follows the lives of the Capulets and Montagues in the aftermath of Romeo and Juliet’s tragic death. We can recall Friar Laurence’s impassioned speech to the families as they arrive at the tomb where the two lovers have died. I think we all hope that, given this sacrifice and unfortunate waste, the Capulets and Montagues can come to some sort of truce. In Still Star-Crossed, we see that this is definitely NOT the case.

This time, we follow Juliet’s cousins, Rosaline Capulet (Lashana Lynch) and Livia Capulet (Ebonee Noel). Rosaline finds herself in the middle of a political play to try and save Verona. She will prove she’s a force to be reckoned with, especially when it comes to her destiny, and must make tough decisions regarding her loyalty to the Capulet name. On the other hand, Livia is a hopeless romantic who dreams of a marriage to provide her with a life she’s always wanted, but her yearning for love makes her an easy target, and she gets drawn into a sordid secret, without her knowledge.

Lord Capulet (Anthony Head), the patriarch of the Capulet dynasty, is willing to maintain the legacy of his family’s name at any cost. Lady Capulet (Zuleikha Robinson) may want the same as her husband, but a mystery surrounds her true ambitions.

We also get to know Romeo’s cousin Benvolio Montague (Wade Briggs). He’s now thrust into a position of responsibility because he’s the sole heir to the Montague name and must abide by a sinister plan to solidify his family’s prominence. The Montagues are on the precipice of matching the Capulets social status, but Romeo’s death threatens to stall their ascent. Angered by grief and the loss of his son, Lord Montague (Grant Bowler) will stop at nothing to ensure the Montagues are the most respected family in Verona.

A newly crowned Prince Escalus (Sterling Sulieman) is determined to end the bloodshed between the Montagues and Capulets, but his only solution forces him to decide between following his heart and protecting his kingdom. Eager to help her brother rule Verona, Princess Isabella (Medalion Rahimi) finds herself drawn to the throne, but quickly realizes that obtaining power as a woman will require succumbing to a twisted scheme.

In fact, the Capulets and Montagues aren’t the only ones affected by Romeo and Juliet’s tragic fate. The keeper of Verona’s darkest confessions, Friar Lawrence (Dan Hildebrand), feels a deep responsibility for their deaths. Similarly, the Capulet’s lifelong caretaker, Nurse (Susan Wooldridge) feels guilt. She holds many secrets of her own, including the fact that she is tending to Count Paris (Torrance Coombs), who was supposed to wed Juliet, but was left for dead after a brutal fight with Romeo.

Still Star-Crossed has all the things we love in period drama and historical fiction/romance: so much drama and intrigue, secret machinations and power moves, love lost, found, and lost again… but what’s also exciting is how the series brings in a non-traditional take on casting and prominently features actors of color. Yet, in a recent interview with The Hollywood Reporter, Heather Mitchell (Still Star-Crossed‘s Showrunner), is adamant that historical accuracy doesn’t always mean “white-washed”:

“The Renaissance was much more diverse than I think most of us, having just taken high school history or whatever, [remember],” she says. “Shakespeare in the 1500s is writing about an interracial marriage in Othello, and Alessandro deMedici is the ruler of Florence, and he’s a biracial man. And you’re talking about all these cultures along the Mediterranean who have been trading with the Arab world and the African world, and by the Renaissance, they’re starting to trade with Asia. This was not a white world, really. You may remember whatever artwork or whatever you want to, but I think, in reality, this is a more diverse world than people think — and on top of that, we just cast the best actor for every role.”

BRAVA… and I cannot wait for tonight’s premiere!

“In Fair Verona, Where We Lay Our Scene” (written by Heather Mitchell, directed by Michael Offer), literally sets the stage:

ABC’S PERIOD DRAMA EXPLORES WHAT HAPPENS AFTER ROMEO AND JULIET’S TRAGIC LOVE STORY ENDS AND IGNITES A TREACHEROUS FEUD BETWEEN THE MONTAGUES AND CAPULETS, WHICH UNFOLDS IN THEIR BELOVED CITY OF VERONA－In the wake of Romeo and Juliet’s tragic deaths, the Montague and Capulet rivalry escalates. A new royal takes the throne in Verona and struggles to determine what is best for his city, which is at the epicenter of mayhem. (via ABC)

Watch two clips from the upcoming show, which uses Romeo and Juliet’s love story as a springboard. In the first clip, we watch Friar Laurence marry Romeo and Juliet, and we already get an interesting twist with the presence of two witnesses. And in the second video, we see the ill-fated end of that romance, with the lovers’ funeral.

Think you know what happened at Romeo and Juliet's wedding? Think again. A new story unfolds on #StillStarCrossed, Monday at 10|9c on ABC. pic.twitter.com/WkaxllZYC7

— Still Star-Crossed (@StarCrossedABC) May 26, 2017

Peace between the Montagues and Capulets? Looks like the royals have their work cut out for them. #StillStarCrossed begins Monday at 10|9c. pic.twitter.com/7QwWQSuIRt

— Still Star-Crossed (@StarCrossedABC) May 27, 2017

I already adore Lashana Lynch’s Rosaline. A servant? You better leave your prejudices at the door Benvolio! And as anticipated, the potential for peace between the Capulets and Montagues is sabotaged before Romeo and Juliet are even in their graves. I wonder what idea the FINE Prince Escalus will come up with now?

Check out 40 images from Still Star-Crossed, including stills from tonight’s premiere and character images. I’ll be live tweeting (@WeSoNerdy) so join me at 10:00pm ET to watch!

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PREVIEW: ‘Still Star-Crossed’ Series Premiere “In Fair Verona, Where We Lay Our Scene” Shondaland brings their dark and twisty signature to Romeo and Juliet! Get a sneak peek of tonight's…

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