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Totally NSFW. (Not really)

What is with this making out against a wall kink that people have, girls especially? Have you, my dear kinky reader, ever wondered what it is all about? Even if you haven’t, just go through this pathetic article of me trying (and failing) to explain this kink.
If a couple of weeks back, you’d come up to me and had asked me, “Hey Zoe, would you ever let someone slam you against a brick wall and willingly let them assault your face with their lips?” I’d have probably asked you to politely piss off or just asked you to check yourself into a loony bin.

Like no, I don’t want to be plastered against the dry cement as wallpaper, but there’s always been this overly sexualised idea about making out against a wall that is almost always the central element of almost every single TV series or movie make-out session. It’s either the couch or the wall, but let us be honest, couch make-out sessions don’t look half as good as the ones against a wall.

I was sceptical about this concept for a while, doesn’t the normal making out in itself already leave a person breathless? I just assumed it was like one of those exaggerated things that was just possible on the television. Like, how would you even find it comfortable to be pressed against both sides unable to breathe properly, let alone find it sexy or pleasurable?
For a long time I disagreed with anyone who argued about this on the contrary. It’s uncomfortable and totally not worth it or that’s what I thought.
But currently I’ve been singing a different tune altogether. If you ask me what changed, I’ll tell you this,

A hand on the small of your back and a hand around your cheek pulling you closer. Your leg hooked around a waist until there’s no space between your bodies. Lips everywhere and the curve of your back on the wall that won’t let you escape the embrace. It’s not like you want to go anywhere anyway. There’s heat around both your bodies and the brush of stubble is all it takes for your frenzy to reach its peak.

Anymore of this, and it’d be an NSFW blog. But maybe it already is.
I get it now, I think.
Also, trying to convince people out of their preferences is kinda like people trying to convince me to stop drowning everything I eat in ketchup, which is never gonna happen and totally wrong to do so.
So, let your freakish and kinky counterparts run free and wild and may you all get slammed into more walls and have good make-out sessions. Amen.

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The Marvel-lous Post

Harry Potter is a legend, okay?

And it inspired and caused an entire generation to fall in love with it.

But here’s the kicker, I’m not entirely part of that generation. Of course I love and live by those books (not the movies, never the movies). I understood bravery, friendship and love. I learnt not to judge someone based on the circumstances of their birth or anything that happens to anyone that’s beyond their control. I learnt true evil is not Lord Voldemort, but Umbridge, the woman who makes you feel helpless just because she’s in a position of authority and abuses her power. We relate to the so many Umbridges we see in our everyday life.
But I did not wait patiently for each of those books to be released every year to read them. In fact the first Harry Potter book I ever read was The Half Blood Prince and I honestly had no clue what was going on and had very little inkling to even read anything else, but I did and that’s a whole different story of love.

Star Wars is my dad’s thing.

Mine?

Marvel. (And Captain America’s butt)

Some of the first superhero movies I watched were the old Superman ones with Christopher Reeves playing Clark Kent. Of course, at this point Marvel and DC weren’t all that different to me.
And then, the Avengers happened. I don’t exactly remember who gave me the movie, it was just there on my laptop one day when I was bored and needed something to pass the time. It must have been 2 months since the movie had been released. I obviously didn’t understand the Iron Man, Captain America or Thor references in the movie but damn it, did I fall in love with Clint Barton jumping off of the roof with that single arrow and Natasha’s badassery. Of course, I did not jump into the ‘Loki is a misunderstood baby and let’s all love him’ bandwagon, but I can understand now why it was a very popular notion.

It. Was. Glorious.

It’s not just about the movies anymore now. I’ve 80 Gb worth of comics, both Marvel and DC, stored on my laptop and more on my hard disk. I’ve a huge ass tattoo of Winter Soldier’s star forming the Cap’s shield on my right rib cage and getting that done hurt like a bitch. It isn’t just about Cap’s butt, it’s about his values, his morals and everything he stands for.

It’s about the strong representation of women like Natasha Romanoff, Hope van Dyne, Jane Foster, Pepper Potts and my personal favourite, Daisy Johnson aka Quake. It’s learning that heroes make mistakes, they wouldn’t be heroes if they didn’t, and that most of them are flawed and that’s what makes them more human. Being alive now, with these movies, showing up to every single screening on the first day of release, this feeling might be ephemeral, but when I look back at the age of , let’s say 32, I’ll happily say I had a marvellous set of years.

Emotional Meltdown

Sad Excuse of a Post

You must remember the days.

The day we first met, because I don’t recall meeting you for the first time, it’s like you’ve always been there.  Does this make you my anomaly?

The day you first waved at me with a smile and I spent the entire night wondering where I’d seen you before and why you made my heart feel so light when every time something like this started my heart had always constricted and it was always heavy.

The day I limped into the halls with a cringe every time I took a step but dragged my feet back out grinning from ear to ear with you.

That afternoon when we were face to face for the first time under the same roof and I wondered if you’d thought I was pretty in the pink I turned every time you smiled.

The days of continued anguish when everything seemed like a never ending tragedy and I’d tried pretending like you never existed only for reality to come crashing because life’s not fiction, no matter how much you pretend.

That night of laughter in a new world under that incandescent light. Almost a year’s worth of want. The one we pretend never happened.

We’ve come so far and there have been so many days and so many moments that has made me giggle and smile in the middle of the street.

“Then you smiled over your shoulder
For a minute, I was stone-cold sober
I pulled you closer to my chest.”

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The Hangover Chronicles 

This post is a clap back on crossing another milestone in adulthood. 

I experienced my first hangover!

It is definitely nothing to be celebrated, it just feels vile and you want someone to just end the misery by drilling a hole through your skill.

BUT, I’ve always wanted to know what it felt like to have one (anyone else?).

So, I was invited to my first party in the college campus (only took me 3 years) and I wasn’t really all that excited to go, because it was just going to be a bunch of seniors that I hadn’t really even been introduced to properly. But I was excited for one main reason, my life seemed to be headed in the direction of fanfiction base plots. If you’ve read fanfiction you’ll know what I’m talking about as I continue to recall the nightmare that my night out turned into. So, I’m there and the birthday guy’s cutting his cake and stuff is happening, people are clapping and all I wanted to do was to run straight into Azkaban. What in the name of Merlin was I thinking when I decided to go to a party where I knew less than 5 people?! I sipped beer and stuck to the curtains in the hopes that the ground would open up and swallow me whole. 

And LO! My phone buzzed and I was saved or so I thought. Let’s just call this person Marmalade. I texted Marmalade and said I’d meet up with him in a couple of minutes. If I’d just left at that very moment, I wouldn’t have had The Fuckening™ happen. I decided to stay a few more minutes before I left and that, my dear readers, is when I was handed vodka which I greedily consumed. Just like the protagonist in any fanfiction, I ended up slightly tipsy under the night sky, laughing and giggling and finally, finaalllly kissing Marmalade. And I think that’s where the night went downhill from. Confused and angry, I did something you should definitely not do when you’re drunk, I drank more. 

That’s most of what I remember for now, everything else is a blur of people holding my hair up and calling me sweetheart a million times, puking and puking and more puking. But that was like Grindelwald before Voldemort showed up to make matters worse with the hangover in the morning. The hangover is a whole different story in a whole different post which is just as uninteresting as this. So, yes the title is misleading. 🙂

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Obsession at 1am.

Do you know that I’m obsessed with you? 

 I repeat, I’m NOT obsessed with you. I do not check my messenger or my whatsapp 6 times in 3 minutes. Neither do I check your ‘last seen’. 

  I don’t like you. I really don’t. You’re rude and sarcastic. You make me throw my head back and laugh. I just want to listen to you talk. And I want you to shut up and listen to me for once. 

  I hate you with every fibre of my being for making me hate myself. And I crave everything you’re because you bring out the best in me and make me want to be a better version of myself. You care and so do I, and it’s so disarmingly surprising how you show that you don’t give a fuck.

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Protect your tits.

So, I misunderstood.

That’s how all those edgy rom-com movies start, right? They spew a random statement and then go, ‘Wait, let me start from the beginning’. So, I’m doing that here. 

Modern romance is so fucking complicated, man. You can’t exactly tell someone you like them without it being totally awkward or weird. It’s never as simple as boy meets girl. It’s more of a minefield filled with what ifs, misunderstanding, miscommunication, ego, heartbreak and maybe, just maybe you might land on a safe spot. But then you’ll have to move again, won’t you? This minefield opens to an actual beautiful field in some cases, however not all of us are that fortunate. Usually it’s just an endless stretch of spilt blood and pain.

Imagine you tell someone to their face that you have a crush on them after getting to know them for a week, you don’t really expect anything in return, you just wanted to get it off of your chest. But you’re nervous and it kind of comes out in a rush, the person just smiles and kindly makes fun of the way you said it, not stating it out loud that they don’t feel the same way, but to you it’s clear from their body language and the way they speak. Your heart clutches painfully, but you’ve just met them and you’ll be okay, at least there wasn’t any false hope.

 Now, if the same situation had happened on a text and the person just repeated what you said just to make the conversation light but you can’t see their face or their reaction and you end up thinking that they just admitted to have liking you back and you obsess over them for months not understanding why they don’t seem as excited to talk to you as you’re when they said they did like you back. And when you do get to know the truth one day, it feels like a cosmic joke like the universe just pulled the rug out from underneath your feet because why not? After all, isn’t life just a series of massive punches to your tits?

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Teen Rant #2

He said you looked pretty.

So did she. 

So did your mother, with such affection that you’re sure she’s blinded by it.

You smile and wink in response with a blistering bravado that fades the moment you’re behind locked doors and dark curtains.

Your eyes are haunted with how much you’ve starved and you see this in the ever faulty image. You see that hunch and the disappearing of cheekbones. You see the roundness of your arms and your middle and it’s taking everything in you to not punch and scream and thrash your head against the wall. The inner turmoil only seen by the tears you hold back and the food you throw up because those are the 2 things which you can never keep down.