#i’m saying that glorifying it and refusing to call it what it is is irresponsible | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fireyalex · 5 years ago

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What Makes Us Blind

Prompt: "Every fucking day, I wish you're mine - every single goddamned day," and "You mean the whole fucking world to me, do you know that?"

Summary: Virgil doesn’t understand why he gets so angry whenever Roman’s flirting with somebody else. It’s not like he actually loves him, right? That would just be crazy. He’s not jealous, just annoyed.

Pairing: Prinxiety

Characters: Virgil, Roman, Remy

Warnings: Swearing, mention of blood, passing comment about death. Please let me know if I missed anything.

Word count: 2084

It’s fine, he should be used to this by now. Roman is a very flirtatious person by nature, anyway. So it doesn’t matter. But for whatever reason, it still made Virgil’s blood absolutely boil. He never understood why, though.

Virgil pulled his hood over his head to hide himself as much as possible, avoiding any and all eye contact, as Roman was excessively flirting with some random man clad in sunglasses and a leather jacket. He put his headphones on and just let the music wash the two voices away. Maybe it was just his anxiety acting up that made him act like this. Yeah, that was it. It was simply his anxiety. Why would it be anything else?

Roman laughed as he and the stranger spent time talking and flirting with each other. The two had fallen into a rhythm and had relaxed more as they talked. Finally, Roman’s laughing and flirting had died down, and a pleased smile landed on his face.

“I don’t believe I ever caught your name, darling,” Roman brought up smoothly.

The other gave an amused chuckle, “The name’s Remy, babes.” He looked Roman up and down over the rim of his glasses. “And I believe I’m missing a few digits from my phone. Would you be a dear and help me figure them out, Ro?” Roman certainly didn’t miss the smirk as Remy pulled his phone out.

Roman chuckled as he carefully grabbed the other’s phone, putting his number in and sent a text to himself. He glanced over at his friend and his face suddenly dropped; Virgil was hiding in his hoodie with his headphones on as he fidgeted with the strings from the hood. He looked back to Remy, giving his phone back.

“Look, this was fun, Rem, but we should probably head home. I’ll text you when I can.”

Remy gave an understanding smile, looking at Roman. “Don’t sweat it, babe,” he stepped close and bent down to kiss Roman on the cheek. “Promise me you’ll get home safely.”

“Without a doubt,” Roman smiled, “you get home safely as well.” After a quick hug, the two separated and Roman turned to Virgil. “Hey, I’m ready to go back, Virge.”

Virgil looked up at him with a scowl, pulling his headphones down around his neck. “‘Bout fucking time,” he growled. He pulled his head down and immediately stormed off, leaving a startled and confused Roman behind.

After blinking his confusion away, Roman rushed to catch up with Virgil, walking beside him. “What… What’s that about, V?”

“Oh, I don’t fucking know. It doesn’t matter, Princey.” He snarled.

“I- … Virgil?”

“What?” He asked uninterested, his voice flat as he refused to spare Roman even a glance.

“Are you alright?”

Virgil gave a short, unamused laugh. “Just peachy. Fan-fucking-tastic. I’m wonderful!” He tucked his head in further, clenching his fists inside his pockets as he grit his teeth.

Roman furrowed his eyebrows together as he tried to find the right thing to say. After a brief moment, he gently took hold of Virgil’s arm to stop him. “Virgil, what’s wrong?”

Virgil just scowled. “Let go of me.” He attempted to shrug off Roman’s hold, but it only tightened. “Roman, seriously. I’m fine,” growling the last word, he still refused to look at Roman, but he was glaring two holes into his hand. Seriously, Roman was just a big, stupid idiot. When Roman still refused to let go, he looked up, staring right at him.

Roman’s head was down, though he looked up when he spotted the motion. “Did I do something?”

“You’re always doing ‘something,’ Roman. You have to be a bit more specific than that, Princey.”

“Did-” He hesitated and looked directly at Virgil, “did I do anything to set you off? If I did, I truly apologize. I didn’t mean to-”

“Yes! No! I-” Virgil sighed and tried one last time to free his arm, this time succeeding in the matter, “I don’t know. You always do, you never do, I-” he hesitated, “It’s complicated. So don’t go blaming yourself when I don’t even know why I’m feeling what I’m feeling! It’s irresponsible, Princey!”

Roman moved to speak but was rudely interrupted by his phone ringing. When he pulled it out, the caller ID showed it was Rems Darling. Virgil shrank away, rolling his eyes.

He shouldn’t be surprised. A new flirt shows up, and they get more of Roman’s attention than he ever will around the pair. Why would him calling during their conversation be any different? While Roman’s attention was focused on deciding whether or not to answer, Virgil just continued walking, somehow even smaller than before. His blood was boiling again like it always did, even if he still never understood why. All he knew was that it only ever happened when Roman was talking to other guys in a more-than-friendly manner. It was getting annoying.

There’s no way he was getting jealous. That would only happen if Virgil was in love with Roman, and there was no way in hell that’s the case. Besides, what was there to be jealous of? After all, it was all the other men who would get to be with this over-glorified dork. Everyone else who would have to endure his non-stop chatter and his constant fantasies and his crippling insecurities. Everyone else who would get to see him at his best and his worst, see him when he’s vulnerable, see him when he sleeps and after he wakes up, when his smile was genuine, when his hair curls down in that adorable way that adorably annoys him… Everyone else that got to be his world and center of his attention, that got to feel true safety and security when wrapped in his arms, everyone else that… gets to be his…. Oh.

“Well, shit,” he muttered to no one other than himself. He shoved his hands in his pockets as far as they could go and picked up his pace. He just wanted to get out of here as fast as humanly possible.

“Virgil, wait up!” He groaned inwardly as the voice caught up with him. “I’m so sorry about that, but I told him I’d call him back later. I didn’t mean to let that interrupt-”

“It’s fine. Just forget it.”

“Wha- why? I’m sorry if you feel unheard, but-”

“I said just forget it, Princey!” Virgil stared at him, tears threatening to spill over. “Please,” he nearly whispered.

Roman just stared at him in return, eyes wide in shock. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words would form, but he was interrupted before he could speak, anyway.

“Besides, it doesn’t fucking matter. So just.. Drop it.” Virgil at last turned and walked away.

“Virgil, if it’s affecting you this badly, then it’s not nothing. Please, I want to know what I did wrong. So I can be better.”

Virgil stopped dead in his tracks, his nails digging into his palms to the point he almost drew blood. After a moment, he turned around to face Roman, his head down. “You know what? Fine. You want to know what you did?” Roman took a small step back, but still nodded as Virgil slowly raised his head. “You’re out here, flirting with every fucking man you see, leaving me behind in the dust, the one who’s been by your side since middle school.”

He took a step towards Roman, “You don’t pay attention to me in the slightest when it comes to another man. I could jump off a damn cliff and you wouldn’t even notice until you’re done with him!” He took another step forward, a couple rebel tears escaping down his cheeks. “And I- It… it hurts.”

Furiously wiping his tears away, he looked a gaping Roman in the eyes. “You… You mean the whole fucking world to me, do you know that? So it- it hurts to see other men getting all of your attention instead.” Roman moved to speak, but Virgil put his hand up to stop him. “Not… Not yet.” His hand fell back down to his side. “The more men I see you with, the more I realize. Every fucking day,” his voice broke but he continued nonetheless, “I just… wish you were mine. Every single goddamned day.” He was barely at a whisper as he closed his eyes. “I just… Roman, I-” Opening his eyes, he chewed on his lip as he considered his next words. “I love you.” The silence that followed was deafening.

Roman was rendered completely speechless, not knowing what he should even say. Without thinking, he moved forward and wrapped his arms around Virgil. I love you too, he wanted so desperately to say, but the words refused to come out. Instead, he decided to just hold the other man tighter in his arms.

The smaller figure was tense for a moment before he finally hugged back, burying his face in the bigger man’s chest. If Roman had felt him shaking and crying, well, he didn’t mention it. Virgil just wanted to hide away until this all blew over, act like nothing had happened. Of course Roman wouldn’t love someone like him. No, instead, he’d like someone who actually gave a shit about romantic gestures, someone who was open about his feelings, someone who isn’t as fucked up or unstable or broken as Virgil is. Someone who-

“Virgil, I-” Roman started before releasing his breath. Something in the man’s voice made Virgil pull back to look at him. “And this… This is all true?” If he was trying to keep the tremble out of his voice, he was failing miserably.

With a nod, Virgil looked up, tears no longer falling but still pooling in his eyes. “Every damn word,” his voice was impossibly soft now, the fear of rejection tainting his tone.

After a moment’s hesitation, the taller figure looked down at Virgil, his eyes and face softer than he’s ever seen from Roman before. His lips parted into a small, kind smile. “I was hoping you liked me as well, Virgil. I-”

“Wait,” he asked, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You mean-”

Roman cupped his hand around Virgil’s cheek. “I love you too, Stormcloud. I always have. Ever since I can remember, I’ve loved you.”

Virgil stared intently, eyes darting between Roman’s eyes, trying to find any malice or deceit, but instead found nothing. He felt the tension leave his body as he leaned into the hand still cupping his cheek, letting the warmth seep in.

“Then what about the other men?” Virgil asked softly.

Roman closed his eyes for a moment, trying but failing to hide the regret that instantly appeared in them. “No matter how many people I may have flirted with, lightning bolt, none will I love as much as you. None will I fight the impossible for, like I with you. None will I wish every waking moment to be with, other than you. None will I want to spend the rest of my days with, only you. Always only you, Virgil.

“Only for you would I walk to the ends of the earth and back. Only for you would I fight to protect from any ailment, no matter how big or small. Only for you would I love to see your face relaxed in sleep, and the way the sun connects with you in the morn’. Only for you, would I love as deeply as I do.” As he finished speaking, he slowly brought himself closer, leaving their faces only inches apart.

Virgil let out a breathless laugh, a small smile forming. “You’re a fucking sap, Princey, you know that?”

“Only for you, my dark night,” Roman smiled back at the other.

Virgil’s smile turned into a smirk. He leaned forward, lips brushing together. “Just shut up already,” he muttered before their lips finally connected.

Roman’s free arm wrapped around Virgil’s waist, dipping him down ever so slightly. In response, Virgil threw his arms around Roman’s neck, deepening the kiss.

After what felt like an eternity, Roman pulled away, resting his forehead on Virgil’s. “I love you, Virgil,” he whispered breathlessly.

“I love you too, you sap. However, it might be a good idea to get back.”

Roman gently shook his head, his smile growing. “Just one more,” he connected their lips once more. They still had plenty of time before the sun set, after all. So what was one more kiss or two? Or Fifteen?

Taglist: @figure-skating-fander @snowfall-and-stars @demidork84 @8bituin @couldbegrayer @acanvasofabillionsuns @yalltookmyurlideas

Also please let me know if you would like to be added to my taglsit

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dreadwulf · 6 years ago

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gwenspiration

@ofaclassicalmind tagged me for this meme started by @jaimebrienneonline: “Taking the idea from the amazing Gwendoline Christie, we should be promoting ourselves and not acting like our creative endeavors are worthless. In that vein, I challenge everyone to blog their favorite of their own works, art, fic, meta, manip, doll story, whatever it may be. Not someone else’s.

I feel like I’m already promoting myself way too much, but because I was tagged for it...

First I want to mention something from my old fandom, Dragon Age: Midnight in a Perfect World and its sequel, Visitations. I mostly shipped a side-companions pairing (Fenris/Isabela) that was not popular and both of these fics, although they are among my favorite things I’ve ever written, to this day have a grand total of 22 kudos each. I don’t think these fics are any worse than what I’m doing now, but I think my style and shipping preferences weren’t a great fit for that fandom.

I also want to mention the Jaime/Brienne WIP I have shamefully neglected, Terrible Love, which is a Brienne POV book!canon fic that tries to recreate the red tent scene from the show using the book characterizations and after the Lady Stoneheart situation has been resolved. I’m pretty happy with the characterizations for both Jaime and Brienne, and I gave them a pretty intense confrontation where Jaime gives a love confession in a very Jaime way and Brienne does not take it well at. all. It was a little tough to write because there’s a lot of personal stuff in there, particularly when Brienne is having an emotional meltdown. The only reason it stops at chapter 3 is because originally, that was going to be the end of the story. Then once I put up chapter 3 I decided it was too soon to resolve Brienne’s conflict completely, and I would need two more chapters to get her there. And then I started AMFAS and have been writing that ever since. But the standing 3 chapters I actually think are pretty good in themselves. I’ll come back and add more someday.

For an excerpt I think I pretty much have to put up my massive, 170k word and counting J/B fic A Man for All Seasons, but if I was going to pick out a part, I think I was happiest with Chapter 9: Annhilation. This chapter had several scenes in it that I had been planning since I started the damn thing back in 2017.

The entire fic is in a lot of ways building to this chapter, but I think you could probably read it on its own, if you wanted to. Jaime has been in Winterfell for months preparing for a Siege by the impending Army of the Dead. Cersei is dead, Tyrion is gone, and Jaime has to start over entirely on his own with no allies while struggling with grief and regret. He’s kept himself pretty much in denial about all the things he’s been through and all the mistakes he’s made, but here he gets hit with absolutely everything at once on one awful day and self-destructs. Brienne, after keeping her distance from him for plot-related reasons, is there to pick him up when he falls. She takes him back to his room and puts him in a bed and essentially takes his confession.

(excerpt behind the cut)

[Jaime] doesn’t know what he’s going to say until he can hear himself saying it. He lets it happen, lets himself float a little way away from his body. It’s like there’s two of him: the one talking to her and another one listening curiously to his own voice saying things he doesn’t know he knows.

“I think I’m falling apart. Something’s terribly wrong with me. I feel ill all of the time and I can’t pay attention to what I’m doing. I look up and I’m somewhere else, or it’s hours later and I’m still in the very same spot and I don’t know what I was doing during all that time. What’s worse is I think it’s been like this all along and I just didn’t notice. Gods, I think years went by like that, very much like that. There were all these things I couldn’t stand to think of, so I just didn’t think of them. I would just be somewhere else inside my head. But now I have to think about those things. I can’t stop thinking about them, unless I stop thinking completely.”

He has to catch his breath. His body has gone slack, arms fallen to his sides. Fortunate that he was already sitting down. There’s more to say and it’s going to hurt, it will be like lancing a wound and letting the poison out. It should be a relief to let it out, but it doesn't feel that way. It feels as though it will keep coming and coming, that perhaps he is all poison, that he is nothing but wounds loosely sewn together and when all of his pain comes out there might be nothing left of him.

Jaime goes on anyway, in a low, dead voice. “My father was right. I spent all those years in King’s Landing as - what did he call it? 'A glorified bodyguard'. Not even that, practically a doorstop. When I was young I had so many dreams and ambitions and so much I wanted to do and somehow I forgot it all. All my dreams of knighthood and once I had it I was just marking time. I didn't think past the next day, the next night, the next morning. I had no plans for the future, no desire but whatever stolen moments I could take with Cersei. I thought of nothing but what pleasure I could get from her. If I ever wanted anything more it only registered as this vague unhappiness that I blamed on everyone but us. I never asked for more. I didn’t care who we hurt. And now she’s dead, and our children are dead, and it should have been us who died first, they should have outlived us both. Tommen and Marcella anyway. They were good. They were so good. I don’t know who they got it from.”

“Jaime.” Her tone is so gentle that it pains him to hear it. It puts him back in his body where every nerve ending is afire. He is light-headed, his breathing fast and shallow and this is going to be too much, he’s on the verge of going away completely and right in front of Brienne, and he does not want her to see that again. But he’s still talking. He can’t stop.

“I think I’ve wasted my life, Brienne.”

“You’ve mucked it up a fair bit,” she says steadily, not quite letting him off the hook. “But it’s not over yet.”

“I can’t stand it. I keep going away so I can not think about it, but when I come back it’s worse. I’ve done everything wrong. All of this is my fault, all of it. The war. It wouldn’t have happened if not for me. Cersei died because of me. But so did Ned Stark, and Catelyn, and all of the other people who died in the War of the Five Kings. Because of me.”

She is smiling up at him. “You are so incredibly vain,” she says fondly.

That shakes him. “What in the hells do you mean?”

Brienne shakes her head slowly. “I should have known you would jump immediately from total irresponsibility to blaming yourself for absolutely everything. You, all on your own, started a war between five Kings? Did you kill Jon Arryn? Or Baelon Greyjoy? Did you murder Renly with the red god’s magic? Were you at the battle of the trident? Are you to blame for years of misrule? A thousand years of Targaryen history? No single person did all of that. Many people did that together.”

She takes his hand. “You played your part, you and many others. And you are atoning for it. You’re defending Winterfell and the North from an enemy that has nothing to do with you, who stands to annihilate all of Westeros. You’re doing the right thing. You’re becoming the honorable man you were always meant to be. Not because anyone told you to do it or because you expected any reward. Because you wanted to, because it was right.”

Her kindness, as it often does, fills him with a kind of dismay. It’s a mistake. She has mistaken him for someone he's not.

“You don’t understand. I've done terrible things,” he admits, with a sensation like sinking into the floor. “I'm a terrible person.”

“Ramsay Bolton was a terrible person. You aren't nearly his equal. Nor Littlefinger's - and if any single person is responsible for the mess we're in now, he is. As a villain you wouldn't even make the Bloody Mummers.”

Being made fun of, even gently, he does not take kindly to. He shakes his head frowning. “But Tyrion was right. It doesn't matter that I didn’t participate or that I disapproved of the Red Wedding, or Ned's death, or all the things Cersei did. I let it happen. I looked the other way. I never tried to stop them.”

“Neither did he,” she points out, with tender stubbornness. “And you did work against them, in a lot of ways. You sent me after Sansa, when Cersei wanted her dead. You set Tyrion free. I’d wager you’ve done even more than I know about. I would not be surprised to find you've been quietly resisting them your whole life.”

This he has never understood, where she has found this faith she has in him. He must have fooled her somehow, but damned if he can figure out how. He must look bewildered, because she goes on to explain.

“The man who drowned entire houses for power has a son who rejects power at every turn. Imagine that -- Tywin Lannister's son, of all people. Ever since you were a boy, you were dreaming of being a true knight, protecting the weak, and righting wrongs. Where did that come from? That wasn't your father’s idea. Swearing yourself to the Kingsguard definitely wasn’t his idea.”

No, it was Cersei's, he tries to say, but before he can say it, she's rushing ahead.

“Giving up your inheritance and the family name, refusing positions of authority, avoiding responsibility - do you know what that sounds like to me?” She doesn’t wait for his answer. “It sounds very much like a man who desperately doesn't want to be his father.”

That… is something that has never occurred to him. It feels important. But he isn't going to be able to sort through that now. It’s too big, he can’t get his head around it.

“We did awful things. My father did, and Cersei did, and I helped them.”

“You did,” she says steadily.

“The truth is...” he looks at his feet. “I still miss them. I miss all of them.”

His vision blurs, and he has to close his eyes and clench his jaw tightly to keep himself in hand. He has never quite gotten around to grieving for any of his family, not his father nor his three children, not Uncle Kevan and Cousin Lancel who died at Baelor, not for his brother’s betrayal or his terrible defeat at Highgarden and the men he watched burning to death there. He had to be strong for Cersei, her pain had always taken precedence over his. He had no right to mourn or be comforted. And then she was gone too, and he is left utterly alone, untwinned, orphaned, widowed.

After so long repressing his grief he thought it had faded on its own, but he had only concealed it. Now it’s all flooding in at once. Suddenly it just hurts, it hurts beyond his ability to hold it all. It’s just going to crush him.

Then Brienne is putting her arms around him, around his neck, and pulling him close. “Of course you miss them. Of course.”

The only thing bigger and stronger than this agony is Brienne. She is as powerful and steady as a castle wall and she can hold him together. She takes all his weight onto her and holds onto him until he finally relents and puts his head on her shoulder and lets it all go, begins to weep quietly into her neck. All of the losses in the last few years that he has never been able to mourn, he feels them all at once, in a terrible flood of despair and defeat.

He holds on to her tightly, shaking with painful, wrenching sobs. He's having years of emotions all at once. It feels like it will tear him apart. Brienne does not recoil from his tears, not the way Cersei or his father or even Tyrion would. She puts her hand on the back of his head and runs her fingers through his hair and shows no impatience with his weakness.

Whatever it is that holds Brienne back from the world, keeps her tightly controlled and contained, she’s broken through it now. She’s right here with him, touching him, trying to get through. Because he needs her. That’s what it takes to bring down her walls, it turns out. If he needs her, she will take them down herself.

“You haven’t lost everyone,” she whispers in his ear. “You haven’t. I’m not much but… you have me. You will always have me.”

#I'm cheating a little by posting at midnight when nobody is on ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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gracetoecuadorexchange · 7 years ago

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Engaging

Well, after another week of fighting more avidly against boredom, I am feeling pretty good about myself.

I got lucky last week after failing to do anything for the first day of my three-day weekend. Rosetta joined my family and me at a traditional countryside restaurant, although her refusal to eat food (the premise being that she wasn’t hungry having just had lunch herself) came back later with a vengeance in the form of ordering a full pizza and chicken hamburger at the park we walked around later. Even Henriette, who I’d thought would miss out as she was sick, joined us. She and Rosetta took a paddle boat around the man-made river.

Monday, although almost as activity-less as Saturday, still had something to do--make a “lemon pie” with Mami Nina I could take to Tuesday’s picnic at school. I say “lemon pie” in quotation marks because it was truly just a glorified casserole; without the baking, or spices, or really anything that goes into a casserole or pie. After layering the bottom of a casserole dish in plain cookies, then spreading a mixture of condensed milk, 50% milk, and lemon juice over the cookies, the process was repeated one more time. I got to leave my two lays of cookies and milk in the fridge for the next day and wonder how in the world I was expected to keep it cool while at school waiting for the last class.

I still don’t know what Tuesday’s picnic was celebrating, but it may have to do with diplomas/certificates that were given to some students at the start of the day.

I have no idea what gets you these diplomas as the year hasn’t ended, but I assume it’s a good thing as the studious kids were the ones called up. I can’t say I am one of the studious kids, but I did pay attention and even got homework and points in classes (except Quimica--Chemistry--because I hate everything about it with a burning passion).

Thankfully my worries over keeping the “pie” cool were assuaged when Mami Ale told me I could ask the snack bar to put it in their fridge. When the picnic rolled around as our last hour of the day, I was able to present my full sized “lemon pie”/casserole-stacked-cookies-not-even-baked thing to impress all my peers. Other “dishes” brought by these freshman-aged students included; Nutella, potato chips, pizza chips, chifle (chEEflay--salted banana chips), strawberries, Coca-Cola, caramel dip, packaged cookies (I took some home to savor later) and some gummy rings. It entertained a few students when I tried the potato chips with Nutella, and Aldo went so far as to test the pizza flavored chips with the chocolate as well.

Even at home I felt productive, able to work on some slides in a presentation I would be an active part of in school next Monday.

Wednesday and I investigated half-heartedly into the running organization one of my classmates is in, “Federation”--like Star Fleet!

I made sure to talk to my school group when Theatre class did nothing, and I even taught a camp game.

By the end of the day I had confirmation that grades would start being written down for me, which is a huge win. It’s hard to keep track of your language progress and feel like you’re doing good. Getting outright confirmation on schoolwork will definitely help in stabilizing how I feel I’m doing. Also, school work is insanely easy (except Quimica because no one wants you, Quimica) which is bad for the students that should actually be engaging and learning, but good for me as I already learned most things in depth in eighth grade.

Wednesday also marked the day I finally got the mail package containing a few things I hadn’t packed the first time around: a small stuffed bear that I like to brag has traveled the world, a large American flag, more journals since it’s been a little over a month and I’ve filled almost the entirety of my first one, and some documents bureaucracy prevented from finishing in time for my arrival.

I had learned from a friend that Venom was out, so of course I took this opportunity to try and connect with friends and watch the movie. Unfortunately, Mami Ale changed these plans without first consulting me, and movie watching was put off for Thursday, meaning I had to be that irresponsible jerk friend that cancels with only 2 hours to go.

This also happened to be the day Tete, the pregnant dog, was expected to have puppies, so I was given the option to stay home. My entire social life is currently at school, so I declined. I still got cake, as I think they were celebrating the new puppies even though nothing had happened (or would happen until the eleventh--that’s what happens when you assume dogs operate on human expectations).

With no one but me needing to wake early on Thursday for school and work, I had to walk down to Cruz del Norte. Unfortunately, sidewalks are not a guarantee, and I’m pretty sure my nice white uniform shoes were covered in a thin layer of dust and not smelling fresh by the time I was in the building. It didn’t help that I couldn’t shower that morning when the water pressure fizzled out as I washed my hands.

On the up side, I now had my trusty stuffed bear Jarfrey, who was a hit with the ladies of my friend group. I passed him off during PE, and by the end of it, Katherin claimed he was her husband.

Katherin was the Ecuadorian friend I had planned to watch Venom with the day before, along with the only exchange student that responded in our group chat when I first sent the invite out. Unfortunately, something came up and she couldn’t make it, but lucky for me, now Marcela could.

Her mother accidentally introduced herself as Marcela’s sister, but it was sorted out rather quickly and we watched Venom. Totally in Spanish. I think I understood about 50% of spoken words, followed 90% of the plot, and caught 40% of the jokes. On the car ride home I learned the family had a Wii U, so I will be looking into a Mario Kart tournament sometime in the future.

I didn’t get a chance to see Tete and her new-born puppies when I got home, but that was rectified the next morning.

Friday dawned, and people were late rising-- except for me because I’m always up at 6 and ready to leave by 6:45 as I was told to be. I saw the three little black puppies Tete can now call herself mother of, but I still haven’t dared to touch any of them in case that would hurt something.

At school, Marcela joined in Inktober late, coining the term ‘Latetober’ and letting me join in as well, along with Ysabella. In English while Marie was stepping out to find Henriette and my desk mates were talking amongst themselves, I drew a hamburger and a tiny hungry cat since the first day’s theme was ‘comida��.

Jarfrey of course joined me this day as well, becoming Marcela’s wrist adornment as she beat us all in the basketball game trying to make shots from different positions.

I learned from Marie halfway through the day that exchange students would be having a picnic. I have not kept up at all with the exchange students, but a picnic sounded nice and it’d be fun to enjoy the outdoors for a little while. I got to the park with four liters of sparkling apple juice and twenty cups--that’s right, I remembered to bring something to actually serve beverages in. I was the only one to remember to do so, and no one brought plates.

At one point, the French boy across from me passed Kinder chocolate under the table and we joked he was our drug dealer. He was the same one to eat tuna straight from the bag and try rip-off Cheeto puffs with guacamole. My second picnic of the week ended a little while after one of the girls got out their Ukulele and another sang along to ‘Riptide’.

It didn’t end before a woman we later learned had no connection to any of us sat down at the table and asked about exchange. People ended up leaving the chips and Nutella with her when we left for a walk. My day finished around 12 am as I enjoyed the two new Miraculous Ladybug episodes (2 in a day again!) and I started off the new weekend right.

Once more, I have fought off boredom, this time engaging in a combination of movies, drawing, and haphazard excuses to eat a ton of junk food with friends. !Ole!

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networkingdefinition · 6 years ago

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Noodles Quotes

Official Website: Noodles Quotes

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• 3 years ago I was stocking shelves at Target, living on Ramen noodles, and crashing at Billy’s house. Now I’m on tour – Benji Madden • A lot of people in this country are obese because of a form of malnutrition. One thing I’d like to do is to help people understand the correlation between a steady diet of empty calories – though you may not experience hunger pangs, you can’t really function well if all you’re eating are things like ramen noodles, or chips, cookies, and sodas, things that are quite typically inexpensive and affordable because of the way we subsidize the ingredients that go into them. – Lori Silverbush • A professional player is smarter than a college man. He uses his noodle. He knows what to do and when to do it. He rarely goes up in the air as is the case with most of our college players when they get in a tight place. – Red Grange • All the dreamers in all the world are dizzy in the noodle! – Edie Adams • Almost anything can be stretched to serve more people by being added to a white sauce or canned gravy or undiluted or very slightly diluted canned soup and served over noodles or rice. With chops or chocolate eclairs, however, the only solution is to claim you don’t like them. – Jo Coudert • And what have I done?” What? WHAT?…You’ve stolen them.” With that, Cornelia fled, but Buttercup understood; she knew who “them” was. The boys. The beef-witted featherbrained rattledskulled clodpated dim-domed noodle-noggined sapheaded lunk-knobbed BOYS. – William Goldman • As a musician and a guitar player, I can noodle as well as anybody. But from my background as a session musician, I always try to play what is called for by the lyric and listening to the song. As a writer, that’s what I do, too. – Richie Sambora

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Noodle', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_noodle').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_noodle img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • Because real thoughts come from outside and travel with us like the noodle soup we take to work; in other words, inquisitors burn books in vain. If a book has anything to say, it burns with a quiet laugh, because any book worth its salt points up and out of itself. – Bohumil Hrabal

• But I couldn’t draw as fast as she requested. Thus, I tried to create the worst abomination of a comic that I could, so as to make her not want comics anymore. That abomination, my friends, was Happy Noodle Boy. – Jhonen Vasquez

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• Can’t make chicken salad out of chicken noodle – Mike Ditka • Carbohydrates, and especially refined ones like sugar, make you produce lots of extra insulin. I’ve been keeping my intake really low ever since I discovered this. I’ve cut out all starch such as potatoes, noodles, rice, bread and pasta. – Cynthia Kenyon • Censure is a limp noodle across the wrist of the president. I think the way we vote on the articles will express the way we feel stronger than any censure vote. – Larry Craig • Even now, when I do a slide show of the Geek Squad story, the first slide is a photo of ramen noodles. Because for me, ramen noodles are the international symbol for struggle. – Robert Stephens • He’s smaller than me, did you see him? He looked like a noodle next to me. – Adrien Broner • I can make things, but I don’t cook them, exactly. Like salmon, I can stick that in a pan. Or the other day I made noodles, but they were hard. It never occurred to me to check them; I just stopped cooking them when I felt they were ready. Really, I’m too absentminded. – Paula Poundstone • I cook everything. I love Mediterranean cooking, I love Asian cooking. I do lots of Japanese noodles. – Ted Allen • I don’t put cream in any pasta noodles ever. I would use a little butter, but I don’t ever use cream. – Mario Batali • I hate to admit this but I don’t even know how to make a cup of tea or coffee. I can boil a kettle for a pot noodle and I’ve been known to warm up some food in the microwave. – Michael Owen • I have a rescue dog named Fideo, which means ‘noodle’ in Spanish, and a cat named Hutch. – Ana Ortiz • I love Chinese food, like steamed dim sum, and I can have noodles morning, noon and night, hot or cold. I like food that’s very simple on the digestive system – I tend to keep it light. I love Japanese food too – sushi, sashimi and miso soup. – Shilpa Shetty • I remember when I couldn’t afford to eat like this. It was ramen noodles and the San Francisco Treat [Rice-A-Roni]. Dessert? Get you a honey bun and put a slice of cheese on it. Put it in the microwave for 45 seconds and you had the gift of a lifetime. – Rick Ross • I wouldn’t exactly call it ‘cooking’ but I can make noodles. That means I can boil water, put the pasta in and wait until it’s done. – Devon Werkheiser • I’m not as good as a man as you are, Sundown. I find it hard to give an enemy my back under any circumstance.” – Ren “Oh, I didn’t say I was giving her my back. I’m not lacking all my noodle sense. But I’m not holding a grudge neither. Sometimes you just got to let the rattlesnake lay in the sun.” – Sundown “Men? You do know I’m standing in this little box with you and can hear every word?” – Abigail “We know. I merely don’t care.” – Ren – Sherrilyn Kenyon • If it’s possible, I will have some noodles in the morning and start talking to people, start to think about a few things in my head – the project or a few ideas which are not finished or if there are possible directions and what will lead into another game. It’s always like setting up some kind of game you can continuously play. – Ai Weiwei • If you think you can lead your flock of sheeple and peeps to some glorified noodle fest on the mall, you got another thing coming, mister. – Stephen Colbert • I’m Italian. I love to cook Italian food, so I learned from my dad how to make sauce and meatballs and all that stuff. With my wife and kids, I started making homemade pasta. The very first time, I didn’t have a pasta maker, so I had to cut it with a knife, the old-school way! The noodles were all jacked up, but it was fun. – Joey Fatone • I’m layering away: sauce, noodles, I belong to you, cheese, sauce, my heart is yours, noodles, cheese, I hear your soul in your music, cheese, cheese, CHEESE. – Jandy Nelson • I’m not the kind of guy who sits around at home and writes songs. Once in a while I’ll pick up a guitar and noodle around, but it’s rare. – Scott Ian • Instructions for Adam Look after no one except yourself. Go to university and make lots of friends and get drunk. Forget your door keyes. Laugh. Eat pot-noodles for breakfast. Miss lectures. Be irresponsible. – Jenny Downham • It turns out that Molly wasn’t her mother’s daughter in that respect. Charity was like the MacGuyver of the kitchen. She could whip up a five-course meal for twelve from an egg, two spaghetti noodles, some household chemicals, and a stick of chewing gum. Molly … Molly once burned my egg. My boiled egg. I don’t know how. – Jim Butcher • Life was so much simpler in pre-video days when everyone refused invitations because the ‘Forsyte Saga’ was on. Now we all just have a long list of unwatched shows, all of which, it seems, our friends are raving about. I feel as outdated as if I wore a Fair Isle sweater, ate Pot Noodle and had a two-bar electric fire in the sitting room. – Simon Hoggart • Memory, in my opinion, is a complete noodle. It hangs on the silliest things but forgets the stuff that really matters. – Ellen Potter • My grandmother was a kind of Scarsdale, New York, society woman, best known in her day as the author of the 1959 book ‘Growing Your Own Way: An Informal Guide for Teen-Agers’ – this despite being a person whose parenting style made Joan Crawford’s wire hangers look like pool noodles. – Sloane Crosley • My mom cooked pot roast with noodles and frozen vegetables. Or she’d make spaghetti or hot dogs, or heat up TV dinners. Before I started modeling at age 19, I was 5’8″ and weighed 165 pounds. – Carol Alt • Noodles are not only amusing but delicious. – Julia Child • OH KYO KUN! Isn’t it said that eating pink noodles turns you into a horny pervert?! – Natsuki Takaya • Once you’ve started a film you don’t become a wet noodle. You must have that conflictual interface because you don’t know, and they don’t know. It’s through conflict that you come out with something that might be different, better than either of you thought to begin with. – Jack Nicholson • Peace will come to the world when the people have enough noodles to eat. – Momofuku Ando • Ramen is a dish that’s very high in calories and sodium. One way to make it slightly healthier is to leave the soup and just eat the noodles. – Masaharu Morimoto • Sam was starting to feel anxious. Nutella and noodles were fine. Great in fact. Miraculous. But he’d been hoping for more food more water more medicine something. It was absurdly like Christmas morning when he was little: hoping for something he couldn’t even put a name to. A game changer. Something…amazing. – Michael Grant

• She led him past the engine room, which looked like a very dangerous, mechanized jungle gym, with pipes and pistons and tubes jutting from a central bronze sphere. Cables resembling giant metal noodles snaked across the floor and ran up the walls. “How does that thing even work?” Percy asked. “No idea,” Annabeth said. “And I’m the only one besides Leo who can operate it.” “That’s reassuring.” “It should be fine. It’s only threatened to blow up once.” “You’re kidding, I hope.” She smiled. “Come on. – Rick Riordan • Since I’ve been on my own, I’ve been eating a lot of popcorn, cereal, instant noodles, and snack bars. I have a hot plate in my bedroom, a microwave, and a small fridge. That’s the kind of kitchen I know how to get around in. – Karen Marie Moning • Spaghetti… I can’t eat spaghetti, there’s too many of them. No matter how hungry I am, 1,000 of something is too many. I’ll have 1,000 pieces of noodles. – Mitch Hedberg • ‘Tampopo’ is a deeply odd film about Japan, ramen noodles, love and sex. It made me very hungry and desperate to travel to Japan. It started my love affair with this amazing country, its culture, its food, its cinema and made me buy my first ticket to the land of the rising sun. – Jamie Cullum • The boys. The village boys. The beef-witted featherbrained rattleskulled clodpated dimdomed noodle-noggined sapheaded lunk-knobbed boys. How could anybody accuse her of stealing them? Why would anybody want them anyway? – William Goldman • There’s a Polar Bear In our Frigidaire– He likes it ’cause it’s cold in there. With his seat in the meat And his face in the fish And his big hairy paws In the buttery dish, He’s nibbling the noodles, And munching the rice, He’s slurping the soda, He’s licking the ice. And he lets out a roar If you open the door. And it gives me a scare To know he’s in there– That Polary Bear In our Fridgitydaire. – Shel Silverstein • There’s only one rule in photography – never develop colour film in chicken noodle soup. – Freeman Patterson • We can do anything. It’s not because our hearts are large, they’re not, it’s what we struggle with. The attempt to say Come over. Bring your friends. It’s a potluck, I’m making pork chops, I’m making those long noodles you love so much. – Richard Siken • When beetles fight these battles in a bottle with their paddles and the bottle’s on a poodle and the poodle’s eating noodles… …they call this a muddle puddle tweetle poodle beetle noodle bottle paddle battle. – Dr. Seuss • When I would feel down…I’d have some noodles father prepared, and all the worries I had that day…Poof! They would all disappear. – Kim Young-kwang • Yes, but I’ve already made my fortune in other things. (Solin) Such as? (Geary) Viagra. My brother learned to take a personal problem and profit by it. (Arik) It’s true. It pained me to see a man as young as Arik stricken with impotency. Therefore I had to do something to help the poor soul. But alas, there’s nothing to be done for it. He’s as flaccid as a wet noodle. (Solin) How creative of you to project your problem onto me. But then, they say celibacy is enough to make a man lose all reason. Guess you’re living proof, huh? (Arik) – Sherrilyn Kenyon • You can’t be wishy-washy. That’s the most boring thing in the world, to be a middle-of-the-road wet noodle. That’s my greatest fear, to be like, “Oh, whatever.” That’s just not who I am. – Chris Black • You have to find a group that really desperately cares about what it is you have to say. Talk to them. They have something I call otaku. It’s a great Japanese word. It describes the desire of someone who’s obsessed to, say, drive across Tokyo to try a new Ramen noodle place ’cause that’s what they do, they get obsessed with it. – Seth Godin • You noodle around with tempo and sound until you get the perfect fit for that particular song, and then, so long as you can sustain it, God is on your side and everything comes easily and even the waiters smile. – Wilfrid Sheed • Zen is to religion what a Japanese “rock garden” is to a garden. Zen knows no god, no afterlife, no good and no evil, as the rock-garden knows no flowers, herbs or shrubs. It has no doctrine or holy writ: its teaching is transmitted mainly in the form of parables as ambiguous as the pebbles in the rock-garden which symbolise now a mountain, now a fleeting tiger. When a disciple asks “What is Zen?”, the master’s traditional answer is “Three pounds of flax” or “A decaying noodle” or “A toilet stick” or a whack on the pupil’s head. – Arthur Koestler • Zerts’ are what I call desserts. ‘Trée-trées’ are entrées. I call sandwiches ‘sammies,’ ‘sandoozles,’ or ‘Adam Sandlers.’ Air conditioners are ‘cool blasterz’ with a ‘z’ – I don’t know where that came from. I call cakes ‘big ol’ cookies.’ I call noodles ‘long-ass rice.’ Fried chicken is ‘fry-fry chicky-chick.’ Chicken parm is ‘chicky-chicky-parm-parm.’ Chicken cacciatore? ‘Chicky-cacc.’ I call eggs ‘pre-birds,’ or ‘future birds.’ Root beer is ‘super water.’ Tortillas are ‘bean blankets.’ And I call forks ‘food rakes.’ – Aziz Ansari

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'a', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_a').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_a img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'e', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_e').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_e img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'i', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_i').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_i img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'o', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_o').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_o img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'u', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_u').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_u img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

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equitiesstocks · 6 years ago

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Noodles Quotes

Official Website: Noodles Quotes

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