#int. emerson

[inflexiblle]

closed starter for emerson cassidy / @emersonxcassidy

" Maman says we should be doing more events in her absence, so I was thinking about reaching out to some authors and doing a book signing here. The issue I'm having is that I don't know where to start. What are you reading now? Anything current? Popular? "

[shilohsharma]

"Well, on the bright side -- at least the clean up was pretty easy. And at least nothing fell on your toes, because that would have just added injury to the insult."

Shiloh pauses, handing a can over.

"Sorry -- I don't mean to sound all Pollyanna. My therapist is making me do this thing where I have to reframe my thinking more positively instead of being a glass-half-empty kind of girl, and sometimes it makes me sound deliriously optimistic when I promise I am not."

@emersonxcassidy

Emerson quickly closed the short distance between them and shifted to open up another of her bags so the can could be tossed into it. "Thank you. And trust me, they're all playing out in my head right now." A joke mostly, since Emerson wasn't usually one to swear, but still. Sometimes the occasion called for it.

"I don't think so? Thankfully it just looks to be cans." As she said it she crouched down, pouting a bit at how some of them were definitely dented now. "At least their contents are good. My bread maybe a bit squished now though." She mused as she started tossing the other cans into a new bag.

[bastardfae]

closed starter for @emersonoceanfairy

he’d had a feeling they’d be seeing one another at some point. no clear idea of when, but arnon’s feelings rarely proved him wrong. with the last of the magically-imposed summer sun’s strength remaining, arnon took full advantage of every small bout of free time he was offered to spend it outside in the gardens. wandering the grounds of the castle was only so enjoyable given the location and the ever-present feeling of being watched by the guards tended to taint what could’ve been a tranquil experience. flopping down to settle cross-legged beside one of the flowerbeds, he toyed absentmindedly with the weakening petals and felt a small pang of recognition in them. same, little guy. same. he sat up a little straighter at the sound of someone approaching and was readying himself to remind whichever guard it was that he’d barely been out here for five minutes when the sight of just who it was registered as he glanced over his shoulder, a grin blossoming instantly. “why the fuck are you here? don’t you have a shop to run?”

[carleyplays]

As Rhodes stood at the foot of the stairs, his stomach in knots, he knew this was the moment. There was no turning back. Emerson was upstairs, busy on the treadmill, likely unaware of the storm that was about to hit. He needed to tell her, but the words felt like bricks in his mouth.

He slowly walked up the stairs and into the bedroom, where Emerson was finishing her run. Her headphones were in, the rhythmic sound of her feet pounding against the treadmill filling the room. When she finished, she wiped her forehead with a towel and slowed down the machine, finally taking her headphones out.

"Hey, Em, we need to talk," Rhodes said, his voice low but serious.

Emerson raised an eyebrow, her expression already guarded. "About what?" She put the towel down on the treadmill and stepped off, crossing her arms as she looked at him. "If you’re just gonna say something about the show again, I’m not in the mood."

Rhodes sighed, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t want to drag this out, but it felt like no matter how he phrased it, this conversation was going to be tough. "It’s not about the show. It’s about something... else. Something personal."

Emerson’s face shifted slightly, but she didn’t say anything, waiting for him to continue.

He motioned for her to sit on the bed. "We need to sit down, because this is serious."

Emerson, sensing the weight in his voice, reluctantly sat on the edge of the bed. Rhodes followed, sitting beside her, his body tense. He took a deep breath before speaking, trying to gather his thoughts.

"Lana’s pregnant," he said, the words hanging heavy in the air between them.

For a moment, Emerson didn’t react. She just stared at him, her eyes narrowing as if she didn’t quite understand what he was saying. "What?" Her voice was calm, but it was the kind of calm that came just before a storm. "What do you mean, Lana’s pregnant?"

Rhodes swallowed, his throat dry. "She’s pregnant. And I’m the father." His words were blunt, but he had to be direct. He couldn’t sugarcoat it anymore.

Emerson blinked, processing the news, before her face twisted in disgust. "This is... ridiculous," she spat, standing up from the bed and pacing the room. "You’ve got to be kidding me. How is this even happening, Rhodes? I thought we were—" She stopped mid-sentence and turned on him. "No, you were supposed to make this all go away. This isn’t part of the plan, Rhodes. You’re supposed to be with me, doing this the right way, the way we planned. This—this is not how it was supposed to go."

Rhodes felt a pang in his chest at the venom in her voice. "I didn’t ask for this to happen. But it did. And I’m trying to figure out what to do next." His voice softened, but he wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince her or himself.

Emerson’s eyes flashed with irritation. She took a few steps toward him, her hands on her hips. "You have to fix this, Rhodes. You promised me this would be our life, together. We were supposed to be a team—this baby isn’t part of that. You need to make sure this is taken care of. You can’t just let this go on." Her words were harsh, a sharp edge in her tone.

Rhodes flinched, feeling a mix of frustration and guilt. "I’m not just going to ignore it, Emerson. This is real. There’s a baby involved, and I can’t just make it disappear." He tried to remain calm, but her demand to simply "fix" things stung him. He had responsibilities, not just to her, but to Lana and to the life they were about to bring into the world.

Emerson scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "So now you’re stuck with this, huh?" Her words dripped with sarcasm. "Great. Just great. And what, you want to keep this secret from the public, too? We can’t have any of this ruining our perfect image, can we?"

Rhodes stared at her, his jaw clenched. "Em, this isn’t about public perception anymore. This is real life, and I’m trying to figure it out. I’m not just going to pretend everything’s okay. I can’t do that."

Emerson’s eyes hardened, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Fine. But if you’re not going to fix this, then I am. I can’t have this mess hanging over me, Rhodes. I won’t." She looked away, her voice growing cold. "You should’ve thought about this before you got involved with her."

There was a heavy silence between them. Rhodes could feel the tension building, the space between them growing wider, more insurmountable with every passing second. He wanted to reach out, to explain, but Emerson’s attitude made it clear she didn’t want to listen. She wanted everything to be easy, to have her way without considering the consequences.

"I don’t know what to do, Emerson. I don’t have all the answers. But I’m going to be there for Lana, and I’m going to be there for this baby." Rhodes’ voice was steady, despite the storm of emotions inside him. "I’m trying to do the right thing, even if it’s not what you expected."

[konradolssonjournal]

Fredag 29 mars 2024

Hemma efter Star Wars-konserten…

så oerhört bra. Stockholm Symfoniorkester. Någon engelsk dude som viftade med pinnen. Även om Return of The Jedi är den sämsta i den ursprungliga trilogin så var det en stark upplevelse att höra John Williams alla små teman utkristallisera sig tydligare än någonsin från ljudet av en hel orkester. Lukes tema, Leias tema… Jävla uselt manus får man erkänna, den där killen som gjorde Empire Strikes Back hade en annan sensibilitet. Men actionscenerna på Endor är fan grymma. Den där scenen där Yoda dör, fint. Inser också att Prequel-trilogin får en annan vikt i och med denna film, referenserna till Anakin och Leia och Luke som syskon mejslas fram och får liv i prequelsarna. S var peppad, hon vände sig till mig i slutscenen, där Anakin, Obi-Wan och Yoda dyker upp som force ghosts, och säger: ”jag älskar den här scenen”. Det är så roligt att se henne leva upp i de där sammanhangen, att hon har en tillhörighet där. Vi fotade oss framför stora modeller av Chewbacca och personer i Boba Fett- och Stormtrooper-kostymer. En och annan gäst hade klätt up sig också. Helt fullsatt var det.

Jag har behövt ett sätt att landa i nuet, att se en Star Wars med symfoniorkester var det sättet…

Började lyssna på Robert Greenes Mastery på Skeppsholmen, laddade ner den i Apple Books för 155 kr. Sjukt att man inte också får textboken och att flippa emellan ljud och text, det borde man få. Det kanske går i Audible, jag kollade aldrig det. Dumt. Denna starka känsla att jag måste ta mig igenom Robert Greenes alla böcker. Att lyssna på dem kan vara ett snabbare sätt, det är rätt trögt att läsa, så mycket text. Också detta: varför inte lyssna på böcker istället för allt detta pladder jag tar mig igenom i poddformat?!

Mastery… fösta kapitlen handlar om hur människan utvecklade hjärnan som sitt verktyg som gjorde oss förmer än djuren. Genom övning kunde vi låta våra fysiska manövrar bli till en andra natur, och vi kunde använda hjärnkapaciteten till att göra bedömningar i nuet…. det är därför vi uppnår Mastery. Dessutom: vår blick, vår syn, är en stor del i vår överlägsenhet. Vår förmåga att fokusera är tydligen unik. Det var intressant. Fokus som en väg till makt.

”In every work of genius we recognize our own rejected thoughts; they come back to us with a certain alienated majesty.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson, Self-Reliance

Skrev på Threads:

Made a habit out of reading Lau Tzu, Rumi, and Marcus Aurelius… anyone labeled the greatest thinkers of history. I have to admit often I don’t understand half of it. That’s exactly why I keep going.

Utvecklade detta i en Reel:

Maybe not understanding things is underrated. Maybe not understanding is something we should spend more time doing Encapsulating thing we don’t get Sitting with it Because its only through exposure of the unknown That we can reach new insights

Nöjd med denna tankegång.

Läser en rad ur Ocean Vuong, har inte fattat honom ännu, det är något med farsan i fängelset, mycket mörker, en dikt om en skolåda klädd i gaffatejp med en revolver inuti, ändå tydlig bild.

[trojanyheter]

AC Milan är nära Tottenhams psykologiska pris

Emerson Royal är 25 år i år, vilket är en spelares guldålder. Emerson Royal är en offensiv backspelare. Även om Emerson Royal är i en spelares guldålder kan Tottenham Hotspur inte ge honom tillräckligt med tid. Emerson Royal vill därför inte fortsätta bära Tottenham Hotspurs billiga fotbollströjor och vill välja sin position i andra ligor.

Emerson Royal vill lämna, och Tottenham Hotspur är också öppensinnade. I dagsläget har AC Milan även kastat en olivkvist till Emerson Royal och spelaren själv är väldigt sugen på AC Milan. Så kan Emerson Royal framgångsrikt bära AC Milan tröja? Enligt de senaste nyheterna. AC Milan försöker fortfarande hårt att värva Emerson Royal, och deras erbjudande kommer närmare och närmare Tottenham Hotspurs psykologiska pris. Det betyder att Emerson Royal väntas ansluta till AC Milan.

Kommer Emerson Royal och AC Milans tvåvägslopp att bli framgångsrikt? Låt oss vänta och se.

[forislynx]

Emerson. […] En sådan som instinktivt livnär sig enbart på ambrosia, som lämnar kvar det osmältbara i tingen. […] Emerson besitter den godhjärtade och spirituella munterhet som får allt allvar att förlora modet; han vet helt enkelt inte hur gammal han redan är och hur ung han ännu kommer bli […] Hans ande finner alltid anledningar att vara tillfreds och till och med tacksam […]

Friedrich Nietzsche, Avgudaskymning

[meningar]

Utopia

Inte för att vara pretentiös det var Emerson som sa att alla alla borde ha självtillit

Och sen må bra bli originell

Skapa vackra texter

På en promenad där havets själ går upp och glöder

Magnetisk lava sand

Mellan tvinnade fingrar som följer mig där jag går mot livets betydelse Kom jag på

När sökarna ser och somliga sover

Vi skapar vår egen värld

Men vi gråter

Som i telenovelas

Som man inte tycker om

Om man är orginell som

Vi ju är Här

I livskrisernas epicentrum

Inte för att vara pretentiös men du vet när man små-springer från apokalypsen

Sandfärgat ljus över kolsyrat hav

Har du varit där? Vid slutet av universum

Säsong 3 episod 11

Vi skapar vår egen värld

Men vi gråter

Som i telenovelas

Som man inte tycker om

Om man är orginell som

Vi ju är Här

I livskrisernas epicentrum

Vi skapar vår egen värld, vårt eviga slut, vårt egna. Det är öppet för tolkning. 12 år, släpade brädor, plåtbitar, pappas skruvdragare upp i hasselbusken bakom ladan, vid bäcken. Flydde dit upp för att leva i min egen värld, se mina fötter ovan marken, vaja med grenarna. Jag är för tung nu. För uppfylld av all världens sorg. Kan inte titta på månen utan att gråta över att vi kanske snart är där och tittar ner på jorden som var. Har mage att andas någon konstgjord luft Och känna sorg. Så förmätet, att jag ens kan känna något, men allt vi vill är att leva så vem ska stoppa oss.

Men vi gråter

Som i telenovelas

Som man inte tycker om

Om man är orginell som

Vi ju är Här

I livskrisernas epicentrum

[gildedxthorns]

“ah.” the sound slipped from her like a note held too long on a violin — not displeased, not surprised, simply entertained. she regarded emerson with the languid poise of a cat who’d found something interesting pacing just outside the edge of her reach. and yet, she did not move to catch him. not yet. “both,” she echoed, the word tasted like dark chocolate and risk. “how terribly ambitious of you.” a soft laugh followed, barely louder than the whisper of wind curling down the alley between the old theatre walls. “though i suspect ambition looks quite well on you.” the program tapped once more against her palm, a quiet punctuation. she didn’t bother smoothing the smear of rouge still ghosting her cheekbone. if anything, it suited the moment — something half-finished and yet undeniably captivating. “wrong performances, wrong audiences,” she mused, echoing his earlier sentiment as if sampling it for herself. “fair. but you’ll find the line between them blurs very quickly when the lights go up. some truths are only tolerable if they come with an intermission.” she turned then, only slightly, just enough to offer him a glimpse of the shadowed doorway behind her — left slightly ajar as if beckoning. “the dress rehearsal is rawer than the show they’ll see tomorrow night. no polish. no curtain calls. just nerves and instinct and whatever soul the actors can summon on command.” a glance over her shoulder, eyes glinting like stage glass. “some find that more intoxicating than the performance itself.” she stepped closer again — not enough to crowd, but enough to suggest proximity was no accident. “as for the… other kind of show,” she said, voice dropping lower now, silken with suggestion, “you’d need a different sort of ticket entirely. not paper, not stamped. something earned. or stolen.” acelya smiled then — wide, knowing, dangerous. and dazzling. “but let’s start with the theatre, shall we?” she tilted her head toward the door. “follow me in silence. stay in the wings. breathe like you belong. and if anyone asks…” a brief pause as she slipped through the doorway like smoke, “you’re with me.” and just like that, she vanished into the hush and hum of the backstage world, not waiting to see if he’d follow — only trusting that he would.

"any show will do. it has been far too long since i've had the pleasure of visiting." he replied, noting her seemingly sly half-smile. it showed that her brain was ticking, working something out; perhaps seeing what she makes of him before speaking again. "and what might be the wrong sort of performance? i wouldn't say there's any wrong performances, just wrong audiences, no?" the kind stranger stepped closer and emerson made no move to back away; too intrigued by the air around her and the way she carried herself. "invitation-only you say? now that is interesting." the mischief only spurred him on. already set on making his way into this dress rehearsal, getting a forbidden peak before the actual show. like seeing a moment of realism and reality within the performance so beautifully handcrafted for those that decided to become an audience member. "i can certainly look like i belong, and whilst i've been told i'm not the quietest, when it's important i can keep my mouth closed. but this more. . . risque shenanigan that you're talking about has me intrigued. what if i'm the type that cannot make a decision, and simply must have both?" greed wasn't something emerson often found himself partaking in unless it was harmless fun, and this certainly seemed like it.

[jdyns]

@ emerson

emerson: necesito a un integrante de la guardia que cuide la isla de gelatinas en el supermercado. no puedo estar en una fiesta en la que no tengan jelly shots.

jadyn: los de la guardia no se pudieron cuidar a sí mismos y quieres que cuiden el supermercado?????

jadyn: creo que te quedarás sin gelatina

[bruiizes]

de todos los escenarios que podía imaginar a lado de la americana, aquél jamás se le hubiese ocurrido. october no tenía un solo hueso materno en sí, incapaz de cuidar de sí misma y siendo un desastre andante. no obstante, ahí estaba, dígitos acariciando vientre ajeno y observándolo, como si pudiera ver a través de él a la personita que allí crecía. traza patrones difíciles de descifrar y solo la mira, parece estar muy concentrada en su tarea ( pero roza distraída y cariñosamente su mejilla contra la ajena ), hasta que voz ronca se hace presente cerca de su oído: “¿cómo te sientes?” inquiere despacio, aún sin mirarla ni detener cariños. “te puedo preparar algo de comer,” ella, que nunca en su vida movió un dedo para atenderse, está dispuesta a hacer cualquier cosa con tal de que emerson no tenga que esforzarse. bueno... “—— o clementine puede preparar algo,” añade ahora, esbozando sonrisilla traviesa, como quien se siente expuesta por semejante exageración. @sextvpes​

[ymedicepapi-a]

@falsegvds​  :  𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐘 & 𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍.

"𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝’𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫."

quiere escupir veneno, decirle ‘ vete a la mierda, me arruinaste ’, pero sabe que ha estado arruinada desde mucho antes de que emerson llegara a su vida. además, es como si su lengua se hubiese adormecido y no pudiese pronunciar palabra alguna. ¿por qué sigues haciendo esto? ¿por qué seguimos aquí? “amarme,” pronuncia luego de un eterno silencio, acompañando palabra con un bufido. “amar. mira a donde nos trajo ese jodido juego,” la rabia le hace decir cosas que, por mucho que quisiera, no son ciertas. ojalá hubiese sido un juego. “... sí. qué mierda” abandona cualquier intento por aclarar o entrar en detalles, y suspira. “no es como que me lo mereciera, de todas formas” añade en un murmuro, acto seguido colocando cigarrillo en sus labios y encendiéndolo. “ya encontrarás a alguien a quien puedas amar mejor. ¿yo qué sé? no sé sobre esas gilipolleces”

[carvcr]

a bummed cigarette was always a win. kit gave him a nod in appreciation before he plucked one out, holding it between the tips of forefinger and middle for a lingering moment while he heard the other talk. " a burn, " he echoed, with a hum. " gnarly things. "

he wasn't blind to the fact that everything around these people felt strange. odd. the air seemed to buzz around them differently, like looking at asphalt on a really hot day and seeing an inexplicable blur on the horizon. he was taking everything he was told with a grain of salt, after his mother had given him no good information to go off of. and his half-sister had mostly just looked at him with wide eyes and barely spoken a word on the brief moment he got with her, the day before. he didn't know what happened inside their walls, but he was getting somewhere. he hoped.

emery, he got a name. funny that he hadn't even considered they were anonymous until then. " kit, " he offered back, though his tone came out a little drier this time. a little more blunt. he liked it better when they seemed to be exchanging something more genuine between them, with the failed pickup line and the callout for it. more in tune with what kit's used to, a pleasant push and pull to his show of teeth. none of this pardon my manners bullshit. he can't have any fun with someone who's already apologizing, thirty seconds into a conversation. " pretty tame question, " he noted. " you the type to dip your toes in before you jump and all that? "

the cigarette was not his brand of choice, but beggars couldn't be choosers, and nicotine still begged to be in his lungs desperately enough. so he perched it between his lips, and gestured with his thumb over its tip, mimicking a lighter. " got a light, pretty boy? "

a sister? there was a beat of humanity still yet inside of emerson myers. his heart jumped into his throat as his jaw muscles tensed. it had been a common thread between them, something he never expected, but he stayed silent, smoking his cigarette as he continued his observation through listening. perhaps he had met her. so many names were changed, & people adapted to new personalities once they became part of the circle that it made it almost impossible for him to keep track of every single member. though he needed to be better at it, especially because one day, it would be his responsibility to watch over the flock.

pulling the cigarette away from his mouth, with a trail of smoke following, he reached deeper into his pocket before he pulled out a half-open pack of cigarettes & held it out for the stranger. he wasn’t against sharing. this man was giving more to emerson than he realised he was, which only made his lips twist into a crooked grin.

green eyes then flashed toward the bandage. his lips twisted from their grin into a thin line as he sighed, “ i was helpin’ around the farmhouse & got burnt pretty bad. ” partial truths spilt from his mouth as there was both an old & fresh burn concealed away.

he chuckled as a means of working his heart down from his throat while shaking his head again as he took a half-step away from the stranger. “ ah, shit, well … i ain’t shown my southern manners. name’s emery, what’s yours? that’s a good place to start, ain’t it? ”

as if to agree with him, the cicadas sang louder as the heat rose higher in temperature, but emerson knew better than to believe the summer heat would stay as it was. he could feel the hair on the back of his neck & arms stand on end as a sign that a storm would be rolling over eden before long. rain storms often felt like the land attempting to wash away the sins of man, but no matter how much it rained, blood continued to soak the grounds & was made into something holy.

[jadyns]

‘ ¿viste que jaemin por fin puso su stand de besos? ’ w/ @coverrages​

“¿quién en su sano juicio querría besar a jaemin?”

[ashesrise]

‘ -- so it’s going to be forever, or it’s going to go down in flames. you can tell me when it’s over, if the high was worth the pain. “

@darklydescended​ gets a lyrical starter for michael from rosaline ! ; ‘ blank space ‘ ; i prevail

[kolleens]

“hazme un lugar en tu cama” no le importa nada ya y sacude, de manera lenta y suave, los hombros de su amiga “estoy triste y necesito que alguien me abrace. puntos extra si me acaricias la cabeza y me cantas taylor swift” / @coverrages​