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“I speak Italian and a little bit of French. I moved to Trento, Italy, when I was around 10 to learn Italian. I have family there. I’m trying to restart my French. And then I want to get into Mandarin.”

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might  be  returning  here  soon  stay  tuned

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so, with the new year marks the start of something special— my last semester of college! as always i’m a full-time student, but in addition to that i’m going to be freelancing / job hunting / working out the kinks in graduation, so i’m going to be pretty busy. usually i make these posts disclaiming that and i’m right back here within a week or so, but the workload i have only a couple days in to classes ( which is after the first and second days were literally snow days, so ) is already stressing me out a little so i don’t see that happening this time around! i still have some messages to get to, which is something i’ll continue to check— but other than that, drafts and such will be put out pretty sparingly here and on other accounts. i’m officially on indefinite hiatus, so wish me luck!

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Edgar Ramírez in Point Break (2015)

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interests: being called princess

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give darling all the girlfriends pls n thank u

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I’m making my own • Canon died in a ditch somewhere

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Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

Cyndi Lauper

She’s So Unusual

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breeeliss:

“don’t reduce this female character down to a love interest” does not translate into “this female character shouldn’t have a love interest.”

preventing female characters with strong, compelling narratives from experiencing love, intimacy, and affection is just as regressive as reducing them down to sexual accessories for male characters. it assumes that women must choose between a romantic interest and depth of character and ignores a far more productive message: that women are capable of possessing both. 

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#a mood.

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HER EYES NARROW, having already decided within mere seconds that the bounce in the other’s gait is only slightly less irritating than the shiny, bright look of hope in the woman’s eyes. she doesn’t care to conceal that fact, lips twitching with disdain. after all, life is too short to do anything short of living it— as honestly as it suits her, that is. monika’s mind is traveling in hyperspace as the girl speaks, picking apart every word she deems necessary enough to share. while the first order are far stricter ( and stingier, the bastards, not that that discourages her from scraping a little off the top when she can ) when it comes to business, she finds she almost certainly prefers dealings with them— if only to avoid these inevitable rousing chats from whichever haloed rebels need to fill their quota for good deeds.

plastering a sarcastically cloying smile across her lips, monika leans her weight against a pile of durasteel pallets, nodding towards her cargo. the rebels are more apt to do the heavy lifting for her, though, she’ll give them that.  “  y’know, i couldn’t give two bantha ticks about trust, but thanks. knock yourself out.  “  she mimics the cheery quality of the other woman’s tone, clearly mocking her, but on some level— she supposes she does trust them. or maybe trust still isn’t quite the right word, but rather, she expects them to do right by her. after all, they’re the good guys, by popular definition throughout the galaxy, and they’ve always paid her well enough. not as much as the first order does, but maybe this is how she fills her quota. they’re cute, like underdogs who might just make it after all. unfortunately, she no longer has the privilege of rooting for either side beyond delivering them the very weapons to take each other out.

“  the good fight, huh?  “  monika muses, a hint of amusement to it as she casts a cursory glance around what she can see of the base.  “  what’s your kill count gotta be before it turns bad?  “  she offers a wry grin then, pushing off the pallets.  “  ‘cause you’ve all been at this a while. keeping to myself is more or less what the rest of the galaxy does, until one of you decimates a whole planet or makes battlefields out of our cities.  “  not that she’s complaining ; it makes the ... dirtier bits about her job easier to bury and blame on the war, but her dead mother? not so much.  “  then it gets interesting, doesn’t it?  “

one thing she can honestly say she hates about having to act as part of the resistance is having to partake in the mundane.  moving equipment from point a to point b, helping fix up messes left behind after everything from destruction to some idiot who doesn’t watch where they’re going.  it’s all so tasking.  with each fake smile she passes out she’s imagining tearing them to shreds, using nothing more than her mind to send them flying into a wall with pressure enough to break their necks.  then she has to ground herself, and she’s back to manual labor.

carrying a supply box, meant to make it’s way onto one of the many junky freighters, she can just overhear the mention of her employer.  ‘ the first order doesn’t scare me. ‘  a grin tugs at her lips and she turns her head away to keep it hidden – well, they should.  we should.

with her convincing smile that offers nothing but sunshine and hope, nova saunters over to their guest, oh so delighted to offer any help they may need.  “i can respect that,” she interjects, hands finding her hips with a pep in her step.  “fighting the good fight isn’t for everyone.  wanting to keep to yourself makes sense.  these are for us, i assume,” she nods in the direction of the freight, her thumb jabbing for emphasis.  “i can help unload them, if you’d like.  and don’t worry about getting stiffed - you can trust us.”

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bcckmarked  /

❛  sorry to burst your bubble babe but i got perfect 20/20 vision, ❜ he smirked at her. ❛  you sure you’re just not overestimating yourself?  ❜ 

“  OH, SO THEN THAT MEANS— you’re just one of those dipshits who wears glasses for kicks.  “  her lips curl up into a saccharine smile, the edge in her expression only all too obvious by the narrowing of her eyes. kid thinks he’s funny, does he— he sure is something.  “  on second thought, it’s probably better for you that i’m not your type, babe. girls like me eat little boys like you alive.  “

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xcoatlicuex  /

“I almost didn’t, but you got me curious.” She always tried to be honest, seeing no reason to lie. Curiosity was the reason why she had showed up when Monica called. There was a faint fond memory, but not strong enough to sway her. Coatlicue could tell, could hear the distaste in the other’s tone at having to ask for help and the goddess could relate to that.

“What do you need help with?” curiosity was keeping her, the decision would depend on just what was being asked of her.

“  I NEED ...  “  she hesitates, throat tightening with emotion that she violently tamps down. it helps that the goddess offers only her presence and an ear— nothing more, nothing less. her eyes haven’t stung since her muscles seized up in shock at the sight of her husband collapsing gracelessly to the cold, hard ground, but in the moment she’s the closest she’s ever been since, and she refuses. inhaling sharply and decidedly, monica rolls her shoulders back, lifting her chin almost defiantly— now that jason is gone, it’s just her against the world again. mustering up every remaining ounce of it, she wills her presence to be a commanding one ; she wills the goddess to see her as worthy enough to indulge. she’s lied for her life before, after all.  “  i need answers. i need to know where he is now— my husband, my jason. i want him back.  “

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“  THE FIRST ORDER DOESN’T SCARE ME.  “  she scoffs, though her eyes remain sharp and wary, a touch of false bravado behind the words. it’s not a lie ; they don’t intimidate her, not any more than the resistance does. to be successful in this business, these causes, their sides— none of them can matter. she simply supplies the highest bidder. but those of them powered by the force? at the very least, those are the ones she knows to be more careful around. crossing her arms, monika nods towards the weapons freight, inwardly eager to get a move on and far from any potential force users.  “  i’m no rebel either, just a woman trying to make a living. speaking of, no one here better stiff me— i want all my credits.  “

starter call.  /  @cliquew.

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“  —ANGEL, IS IT? hope you’re not feelin’ too angelic today.  “  dark eyes flash dangerously, but the mood is considerably lightened by a small, almost comical pop! as she uncaps her lipstick. it dangles loosely between her fingers as she appraises the other woman, curious.  “  not that we’d go to heaven anyway— would we?  “

starter call.  /  @heartsandmiinds.