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“Ah well, Laila thought it’d be a good idea to record these...video logs of ourselves to help those who come after us. To guide them and teach them what we can...
Sorry, I’ve never been good at these sort of things. Um...I suppose I should congratulate the Black Paladin who precedes me. But, knowing all the things you must do, and the decisions you must make...I’m a bit hesitant to do so.
Being the head of Voltron isn’t easily. There are times when tensions rise and your teammates will want to rip each other to shreds, and the responsibility to keep them level falls onto you. It is a labor I would not wish on my worst enemy.
But you must do it. Yes the universe will likely count on you to do it, but, more importantly, those behind you count on you shock some sense into them. It’s a difficult job that, I must admit, wears me down. But...I have very dear people by my side to keep me on the right path...
And to protect those people I would wade through oceans of blood. Crush skulls under my feet. Tear down entire empires. I would do so in a tick.
And so should you.
Was...Was that good? S-Should I say more or a-Oh. Ok. Yeah, I think that’s all I wanted to s-“
Laila was drunk
A very sleepy albeit delirious drunk. But there was already a problem for Zarkon.
Having to carry her to her room.
“Hey! So if I’m a...what’s that word?”
“Princess?” It was a war to keep a smile off Zarkon’s face as the normally sharp young woman became so childish that his heart threatened to burst.
“That! If I’m a princess and your...your a dragon, then we gotta stay together.” Forget his heart bursting, it was trying to break his damn rib cage now.
“L-Laila! Saying things like that is...” Trailing off, the pair finally made it to Laila’s room. Thankfully, the young woman had the sense to take off her shoes before reaching her bed. And by that, Laila meant swinging her legs until a pair of heels flew off her feet.
Denting a wall.
They reached her bed. But as the large Galra bent down to place her under the blankets, Laila shocked him.
Refusing to let him go.
Make no mistake, her grip was weak. Almost adorably so, and it would’ve been no problem to break her hold. No. What immobilized Zarkon was how gently she touched him.
“Laila...” Her hands were on his face, soft and curious. Running along the line of his ears and and the curve of his cheek. Zarkon longed to press kisses onto those dear, delicate fingers.
“Laila darling...” What was it about her that made it so hard to think? It took all of Zarkon’s concentration to even pull back. Those soft hands against his scales making him breathe out that embarrassing term of endearment.
“Stop...Please...” Zarkon made to move away one last time, but then Laila’s hands moved.
Just grazing his lips.
And suddenly Zarkon wanted nothing more than to press endless kisses onto those warm, dear palms and have those delicate fingers unravel him piece by piece. But just as Zarkon worked up the courage and audacity to do so, the little Princess surprised him.
Falling asleep with her beloved dragon watching over her.
Unfortunately, this was DNF for me. Weirdly enough, even though I quit this book half-way through, I am planning on seeking out other books by #ottessamoshfegh because I quite enjoyed the #writingstyle . If this book was about anything other than a depressed, beautiful, entitled, pill-popping young woman who cannot deal with life and allows herself to be abused emotionally and sexually by the worst man ever, I feel like I could really have loved it. Isn't anyone else tired of reading about bored, addicted women? I'm off to find a book with a kick-ass #heroine - anyone have suggestions? Please.
(A review copy was provided by the publisher.)
I had an epiphany recently that made me pause and reflect.
My usual routine is once the household is tucked in and quiet that's when I write. Candlelight writing in the middle of the night to wee hours in the morning.
If no one sees a writer writing did it really happen? The proof is the pages!
I want to show my children by example what it looks like to work on talents. This is when I had a lightbulb go off above my head somewhere.
I call it talent time, at some point during the day I declare talent time. Everyone gets to work on a talent they are interested in. For example my 6 year is artistic like her father and enjoys painting. So during talent time she works on freely painting. I tell her I am going to work on writing.
The length of time varies, but the principle is there. The purpose of doing it this way is to show her that talents are important and to spend time with them.
I'm sure other mamas out there have done this before...would you share an experience or another writing tip?
#stalinandthescientist is kind of like a #thriller , but with #history#facts . If you usually find #nonfiction a little dry and tough, this book is a good place to start as the #writingstyle is accessible and super #entertaining .
Have a lil look-it this #blurb : "Scientists throughout history, from Galileo to today's experts on climate change, have often had to contend with politics in their pursuit of knowledge. But in the Soviet Union, where the ruling elites embraced, patronized, and even fetishized science like never before, scientists lived their lives on a knife edge. The Soviet Union had the best-funded scientific establishment in history. Scientists were elevated as popular heroes and lavished with awards and privileges. But if their ideas or their field of study lost favor with the elites, they could be exiled, imprisoned, or murdered. And yet they persisted, making major contributions to 20th century science."
I was challenged to share a tip about something I do well. Now parenting fails is something I pretty much excel at. If you wanna increase your chances of an epic parent fail, my tip for you would be to give your child the wrong coloured cup and then ask them to put pants on. And let’s chat about murdering plants. I’m pretty much a genius when it comes to that. My tip? Ignore the thing. That should pretty much do it
But for reals, something I know I do well at is writing. And writing about pretty much anything. Now I am no author but writing is just something that comes naturally to me. Which is weird because I’ve been pretty much winging my whole existence since day one. Writing has been a passion of mine since I was in elementary school and ever since then, I’m always being complimented on how good of a writer I am #bragmuch and how I can find humour in everything I write about
So here’s my tip on how to write about anything: don’t overthink your subject. Seriously. Like right now, as I’m typing this up on my phone, I am just going for it and writing the first things that come to mind. Sometimes people think too hard about the words they should say or the phrases they should use but in all honesty, the only thing that you should be worried about is if the words are speaking true to you. Oh and add humour too. Don’t overthink it and add in some funny bits. People love to laugh. Those would be my tips on how to write about anything
And if you’re really feeling stuck on what to say, go take a dump. A brain dump. Just push out all your thoughts and ideas onto paper and once you’ve done that, you’ll feel much lighter and then you’ll be able to focus on the task ahead
I'm sitting here reading the details of a highly confidential beta program with a well-known company (I signed the non-disclosure agreement a few weeks ago but the additional information came in today), when a gentleman lets out the wettest, gnarliest fart I've ever heard. 😩
“Well...” Purple smoke curled out of Laila’s mouth. Soft and velvety and sweet smelling. “That was just awful.”
“Oh come now darling, don’t look at me like that. You know it as well as I do.” Pidge looked away, but the older woman was right. That program had been a disaster and now she was back to square one.
“So what do you think I should do?”
“Oh? You’re asking me for advice? I thought you swore off it?” Damn it! It was too late though. Laila’s brilliant, chilling smile was already lighting up the universe.
“If the program to hack into the Empire’s mainframe isn’t working, just steal the access away from someone.” She took a moment to draw some smoke from her pipe while answering.
Pidge’s scowl returned.
“And how do you propose I do that?” As soon as the words left her mouth, the full force of Laila’s burning eyes snapped at her. A sense of rising bloodlust filling the space between them, making Pidge shiver. And this time, when the Empress answered, the smoke rising from her mouth wasn’t at all soft. It was harsh and hard and hot.
Smoke before the fire.
“My dear, we maybe a means to each other’s ends, but don’t expect me to just hand over my Empire to you.”
Smoke filled the air.
“You’ll have to work for it. Blood and all sweetheart.”