I'm An Aries Quotes

I mean, who cares about SpongeBob SquarePants? I'm sitting here with Wolverine! -random kid talking to Ari

The other Max looked at me, and her eyes narrowed. 'They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery,' she said snidely. 'So I guess you're really sucking up.' 'Who are you?' I gasped, my eyes wide. 'You're an impostor!' 'No she isn't.' The little creepy one, Angel, turned to look at me. Her arm was still bleeding where Ari had bitten it. 'You are.' I swallowed my anger. Who did she think she was, her and her stupid dog? I gave a concerned smile. 'But Angel,' I said, sincerity dripping from my voice, 'how can you say that? You know who I am.' 'I think I'm Angel,' she said. 'And my dog isn't stupid. You're the stupid one, to think that you could fool us. I can read minds, you idiot.

Dear Die-ary, today I stuffed some dolls full of dead rats I put in the blender. I'm wondering if, maybe, there really is something wrong with me.

Ari...I will always love you. I always have.Nothing will change that." I squeezed her hand, then gently released it. "You'll always be a part of me. But...I'm not in love with you...anymore.And despite my promise,despite seeing you again, I do this because I want to be with Meghan, nothing else" Ariella's eyes glazed over, and I eased back, speaking as gently as I could "I can't be yours, Ariella. I'm sorry.

Ari, maybe we should get you out of here. No joke. You really are dangerous with thus truth serum in you, You might sat something you wished you hadn't." "Like that your mum scares me, but I think your dad is kind of cute in and old-guy sort of way?" "Exactly like that." "Eh. I'm not worried.

Dear Die-ary, there's nothing terribly wrong with feeling lost, so long as that feeling precedes some plan on your part to actually do something about it. Too often a person grows complacent with their disillusionment, perpetually wearing their "discomfort" like a favorite shirt. I can't say I'm very pleased with where my life is just now... but I can't help but look forward to where it's going.

I’m fine, Ari. Read the book.” “If you’re sure?” He shook his head, lowering his gaze again. “Ari, guys aren’t like girls. When we say we’re fine we actually mean it.

I'm not the average girl from your video and I ain't built like a supermodel but I learned to love myself unconditionally because I am a queen

Don’t, amor. Te adoro. I’ve already lost a son. I’m not going to lose another. You’re not alone, Ari. I know it feels that way. But you’re not.” “How can you love me so much?” “How could I not love you? You’re the most beautiful boy in the world.

Before Kiki and I headed toward the Keep, I thanked my friends. “For what? We didn’t do anything,” Janco grumbled. “For caring enough to follow my guards. And the next time, I might need the help.” “There better not be a next time,” Ari said, giving me a stern look. “How touching,” Janco said, pretending to wipe his eyes. “Get going, Yelena. I don’t want you to see me cry.” He faked a sniffle. “I’m sure your ego can handle it,” I said. “Or will you need to beat up some trainees to feel like a man again?” “Very funny,” he said.

Dear Die-ary, I stared, motionless, before the mirror. As always, I stayed until I'm convinced that there is no glass, nothing, separating me from the room I see on the other side. I imagine that everything is different over there. Better. There are people, in that world, who I would like. But, like always, my hand hits the glass. I know that if I'd only waited just one more second... Shit. I'm gonna go kill a party clown.

In transition? What kind of a Mexican mother are you?” “I’m an educated woman. That doesn’t un-Mexicanize me, Ari.

Pain jabbed Janco where the lower half of his right ear used to be. He rubbed the scar. “Now, I’m not a genius—” “Got that right,” Ari mumbled.

From Jess: FANG. I've commented your blog with my questions for THREE YEARS. You answer other people's STUPID questions but not MINE. YOU REALLY ASKED FOR IT, BUDDY. I'm just gonna comment with this until you answer at least one of my questions. DO YOU HAVE A JAMAICAN ACCENT? No, Mon DO YOU MOLT? Gross. WHAT'S YOUR STAR SIGN? Dont know. "Angel what's my star sign?" She says Scorpio. HAVE YOU TOLD JEB I LOVE HIM YET? No. DOES NOT HAVING A POWER MAKE YOU ANGRY? Well, that's not really true... DO YOU KNOW HOW TO DO THE SOULJA BOY? Can you see me doing the Soulja Boy? DOES IGGY KNOW HOW TO DO THE SOULJA BOY? Gazzy does. DO YOU USE HAIR PRODUCTS? No. Again,no. DO YOU USE PRODUCTS ON YOUR FEATHERS? I don't know that they make bird kid feather products yet. WHAT'S YOU FAVORITE MOVIE? There are a bunch WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE SONG? I don't have favorites. They're too polarizing. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE SMELL? Max, when she showers. DO THESE QUESTIONS MAKE YOU ANGRY? Not really. IF I CAME UP TO YOU IN A STREET AND HUGGED YOU, WOULD YOU KILL ME? You might get kicked. But I'm used to people wanting me dead, so. DO YOU SECRETLY WANT TO BE HUGGED? Doesn't everybody? ARE YOU GOING EMO 'CAUSE ANGEL IS STEALING EVERYONE'S POWERS (INCLUDING YOURS)? Not the emo thing again. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE FOOD? Anything hot and delicious and brought to me by Iggy. WHAT DID YOU HAVE FOR BREAKFAST THIS MORNING? Three eggs, over easy. Bacon. More Bacon. Toast. DID YOU EVEN HAVE BREAKFAST THIS MORNING? See above. DID YOU DIE INSIDE WHEN MAX CHOSE ARI OVER YOU? Dudes don't die inside. DO YOU LIKE MAX? Duh. DO YOU LIKE ME? I think you're funny. DOES IGGY LIKE ME? Sure DO YOU WRITE DEPRESSING POETRY? No. IS IT ABOUT MAX? Ahh. No. IS IT ABOUT ARI? Why do you assume I write depressing poetry? IS IT ABOUT JEB? Ahh. ARE YOU GOING TO BLOCK THIS COMMENT? Clearly, no. WHAT ARE YOU WEARING? A Dirty Projectors T-shirt. Jeans. DO YOU WEAR BOXERS OR BRIEFS? No freaking comment. DO YOU FIND THIS COMMENT PERSONAL? Could I not find that comment personal? DO YOU WEAR SUNGLASSES? Yes, cheap ones. DO YOU WEAR YOUR SUNGLASSES AT NIGHT? That would make it hard to see. DO YOU SMOKE APPLES, LIKE US? Huh? DO YOU PREFER BLONDES OR BRUNETTES? Whatever. DO YOU LIKE VAMPIRES OR WEREWOLVES? Fanged creatures rock. ARE YOU GAY AND JUST PRETENDING TO BE STRAIGHT BY KISSING LISSA? Uhh... WERE YOU EXPERIMENING WITH YOUR SEXUALITY? Uhh... WOULD YOU TELL US IF YOU WERE GAY? Yes. DO YOU SECRETLY LIKE IT WHEN PEOPLE CALL YOU EMO? No. ARE YOU EMO? Whatever. DO YOU LIKE EGGS? Yes. I had them for breakfast. DO YOU LIKE EATING THINGS? I love eating. I list it as a hobby. DO YOU SECRETLY THINK YOU'RE THE SEXIEST PERSON IN THE WHOLE WORLD? Do you secretly think I'm the sexiest person in the whole world? DO YOU EVER HAVE DIRTY THOUGHTS ABOUT MAX? Eeek! HAS ENGEL EVER READ YOUR MIND WHEN YOU WERE HAVING DIRTY THOUGHT ABOUT MAX AND GONE "OMG" AND YOU WERE LIKE "D:"? hahahahahahahahahahah DO YOU LIKE SPONGEBOB? He's okay, I guess. DO YOU EVER HAVE DIRTY THOUGHT ABOUT SPONGEBOB? Definitely CAN YOU COOK? Iggy cooks. DO YOU LIKE TO COOK? I like to eat. ARE YOU, LIKE, A HOUSEWIFE? How on earth could I be like a housewife? DO YOU SECRETLY HAVE INNER TURMOIL? Isn't it obvious? DO YOU WANT TO BE UNDA DA SEA? I'm unda da stars. DO YOU THINK IT'S NOT TOO LATE, IT'S NEVER TOO LATE? Sure. WHERE DID YOU LEARN TO PLAY POKER? TV. DO YOU HAVE A GOOD POKER FACE? Totally. OF COURSE YOU HAVE A GOOD POKER FACE. DOES IGGY HAVE A GOOD POKER FACE? Yes. CAN HE EVEN PLAY POKER? Iggy beats me sometimes. DO YOU LIKE POKING PEOPLE HARD? Not really. ARE YOU FANGALICIOUS? I could never be as fangalicious as you'd want me to be. Fly on, Fang

I’ll tell you a secret. I’m not responsible for whether my students care or don’t care. That care has to come from them—not me.” “Where does that leave you?” “No matter what, Ari, my job is to care.” “Even when they don’t?” “Even when they don’t.” “No matter what?” “No matter what.

What are you thinking, Ari? Tell me.” “I’m thinking that if I died right now it would be okay with me.” “Nobody’s ever said anything like that to me before. It’s a lovely thing to say. Truly it is. Except it wouldn’t be okay with me if we died right here and now.” “Why not?” “Because you haven’t made love to me yet.” That made me smile. That really made me smile.

Ari!" Jeb had finally seen his son. He rushed to Ari's side and knelt next to him. Looking stunned, he gathered Ari's hulking form and held him to his chest. "I'm so sorry." I saw his mouth shape the words, though I couldn't hear them. "I'm so sorry." He bent over Ari's form, mindless of his vulnerable position.

We studied each other for a moment as I lay in bed. "You were looking for me," he said. I looked at him. "In your dream. You were looking for me." "I'm always looking for you," I whispered.

I don’t know if I believed in the war or not, Ari. I don’t think I did. I think about it a lot. But I signed up. And I don’t know what I felt about this country. I do know that the only country I had were the men that fought side by side. They were my country, Ari. Them. Louie and Beckett and Garcia and Al and Gio—they were my country. I’m not proud of everything I did in that war. I wasn’t always a good soldier. I wasn’t always a good man. War did something to us. To me. To all of us. But the men we left behind. Those are the ones who are in my dreams.

He's such a jerk," I said, wanting to rant. "If I'm going to go gaga for some guy, it'll be because I want to, not because some asshat is helping me along." God how lame was that? Just shut up, Ari. Before you embarrass yourself even more. "Well, just for the record...forcing a girl to go all gaga for me isn't my style." He paused, his tone doing nothing to hide his amusement. "I like the gaga to be natural." I rolled my eyes and took off at a jog before he could see that my face had gone straight past hot to volcanic.

That folder represents a me that no longer exists. I'm not embarrassed of her, but at the same time, I no longer want to be her. I've moved on" -Ari

   'Satisfied?' she said.    She's an Aries.    'Yes,' I said.    I'm an Aquarius.    We also had two pumpkins: both Scorpios.

Someday, I’m going to have to break some of your rules, Mom.” “I know,” she said. “Try and do it behind my back, will you?” “You can bet on that, Mom.” We both sat there and laughed. (Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe - page 171)

Olgun?, she asked, her tone again little more than a breath. "Dogs?" A pause, an answer. "Ah. And do you think you should maybe do something about that?" Self-satisfied gloating. "You already did." It wasn't a question. Another affirmative. Widdershins sighed. "I hope you didn't hurt them." Olgun sent a flash of horror running through her, so strong that she felt herself shudder. "All right, I'm sorry!, she hissed. I know you like dogs. I know you wouldn't hurt them! I wasn't thinking!" The god sniffed haughtily.

Dear Die-ary, today I learned that on the inside I'm pretty fucking ugly.

I won’t pressure you, Ari, but I’m not opposed to subtle acts of persuasion.

I'm coronavirus brave. I stand tall and proud. With my mask on my face, Staying away from the crowd.

I am not trying to take you from the life that you know. All I'm trying to do is show you a world that you deserve to see - Aris

Ari laughed. “Hardly. My longest relationship is with my cat, and it’s not even a healthy one. I’m so codependent for that jerk.

I'm an Aries. We don't submit.""I'm a Leo. Wanna bet?

If you agree to our arrangement, I control what you feel and how you feel it. Right now we're concentrating on your needs, but soon we'll be focusing in on mine. I have very specific needs. "I like to take things. I'm going to take you. Whenever, wherever and however I want. Does that excite you?" Aries Taylor to his heroine in Stare Me Down,

Janco stepped between us. “Let’s see if I have this right,” he said to Cahil. “Yelena beats you, so you want a rematch, but you think she’ll use her magic instead of her fighting skills to win. That’s quite the quandary.” Janco pulled at his goatee. “Since I taught her everything she knows, and I don’t have any magic, thank fate, how about you fight me? Your long sword against my bow.” “ You taught her everything?” Ari asked. Janco waved away his comment. “Details, details. I’m thinking big picture here, Ari.

It's like, Jude, for example," I say, quietly, careful with my words. "He's so nice. Everybody likes him. He just gets along with people, everywhere he goes. I know I'm not that. And Ari, she's so talented, and so passionate about music, but I'm not really passionate about anything, other than wanting to succeed. To do my best. But I can make plans, and I can stay organized, and if a teacher assigns a report, I'm going to write the best darn report they've ever seen. If I'm throwing a gala, I'm going to throw a party that no one will ever forget. I can do that. And if I can impress people, then maybe they won't notice that I'm not witty or beautiful or... fun.

I’m Conrad’s brother, and this is--our friend,” he said. “Do you know where he is?” Eric opened the door and let us in. “Dude, I have no idea. He just took off. Did Ari call you?” “Who’s Ari?” I asked Jeremiah. “The RA,” he said. “Ari the RA,” I repeated, and the corners of Jeremiah’s mouth turned up.

The big man shifted in his seat, appearing uncomfortable. “Do you really believe we would eliminate someone you’re in love with?” I sputtered. “I’m not—” Ari held up a hand. “He’s helping you, then. That’s important to us.” Staring at him in shock, I finally asked, “Love trumps logic?” “Every time,” Valek said.

Leave the sword,” Jordan growled. “I’m not going to stab him!” “So I can polish it! You’re doing a terrible job. No wonder you failed knight camp.” “These two flunked out. I was a conscientious objector!” “Yes, and what are you now?” Jordan asked, never fazed by Ari’s temper. “King Fucking Arthur, that’s who!

You were looking for me,' he said. I looked at him. 'In your dream. You were looking for me.' 'I'm always looking for you,' I whispered

Today I’m a “sociopath”, A.K.A. feeling very antisocial and ignorant of human emotion. Code for: I’m writing… leave me alone

Jai pointed at the car. "Get in the car. I'm pissed at you for getting out of it in the first place." Outrage lit through her. "Hey, I'm a big girl, I can make my own decisions." "Get in the car, Ari!" Charlie yelled now, his own eyes glittering with anger. Her mouth fell open, her cheeks blazing with indignation as the two men in her life stared at her, their expressions implacable. She made a 'pfft' sound and whirled around, stomping like a child towards the car. "Too much testosterone, infuriating cavemen, need someone else to boss around, stupid jerks..." she kept muttering insults under her breath until Charlie and Jai had cleared the road.

Do I get to choose what she commands you to do? Come on, let me, it’ll be fun.” Jai laughed humorlessly. “I said I don’t want her commanding me to do something asinine, kid.” Charlie’s grin disappeared as quickly as it had surfaced. “I told you not to call me, kid, Jinn boy. I’m what… two years younger than you, douchebag?” “Try five. And that’s only in physical years.” “What, you trying to say I’m not mature?” “Oh those socks you’re wearing definitely are. Have you heard of detergent? A shower? Hygiene?” “I shower, you militant, glorified fucking babysitter.” “Watch it, kid.” “Kid? I am this close to taking a swing at you, you overblown piece of-” “Oh for the love of God!” Ari cried, throwing her hands up, her head pounding. So much for their strained peace treaty. “Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!”Despite their matching glowers, both of them slammed their lips closed and glared at one another. Ari heaved a sigh of relief as she pulled a chilled can of soda out of the refrigerator. At least the soda still felt nice sliding down her throat. Not the same as an ice cold Coke on a blazing summer day but still nice. She took a refreshing swig and turned towards her male companions once again. Blasts of frost shot out from Jai’s eyes only to be met by the simmering black heat of Charlie’s angry gaze. Rolling her eyes and biting back the guilt that she was somehow responsible for the animosity between the only two people she could count on right now, Ari spilled into the chair between them and Jai slowly sunk back down into his. “So what will I command you?” she asked quietly, ignoring the way her fingers trembled as she played with the tab on her soda can. When she got no answer, she glanced up to see Jai’s face going red, the veins in his head throbbing. “Dude, what’s wrong?” Charlie asked quietly, looking at Ari in alarm. “Is he choking?” Ari’s heart flipped in her chest at the thought and she reached across the table to grab his arm. “Jai?” His eyes widened and he waved a large hand at his throat and mouth and then pointed at her. What the hell?! “Jesus Christ, he can’t talk?” Charlie asked incredulously. “Is this a joke?

at Dunkin’ Donuts, how did we move our anchor to Starbucks? This is where it gets really interesting. When Howard Shultz created Starbucks, he was as intuitive a businessman as Salvador Assael. He worked diligently to separate Starbucks from other coffee shops, not through price but through ambience. Accordingly, he designed Starbucks from the very beginning to feel like a continental coffeehouse. The early shops were fragrant with the smell of roasted beans (and better-quality roasted beans than those at Dunkin’ Donuts). They sold fancy French coffee presses. The showcases presented alluring snacks—almond croissants, biscotti, raspberry custard pastries, and others. Whereas Dunkin’ Donuts had small, medium, and large coffees, Starbucks offered Short, Tall, Grande, and Venti, as well as drinks with high-pedigree names like Caffè Americano, Caffè Misto, Macchiato, and Frappuccino. Starbucks did everything in its power, in other words, to make the experience feel different—so different that we would not use the prices at Dunkin’ Donuts as an anchor, but instead would be open to the new anchor that Starbucks was preparing for us. And that, to a great extent, is how Starbucks succeeded. GEORGE, DRAZEN, AND I were so excited with the experiments on coherent arbitrariness that we decided to push the idea one step farther. This time, we had a different twist to explore. Do you remember the famous episode in The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, the one in which Tom turned the whitewashing of Aunt Polly’s fence into an exercise in manipulating his friends? As I’m sure you recall, Tom applied the paint with gusto, pretending to enjoy the job. “Do you call this work?” Tom told his friends. “Does a boy get a chance to whitewash a fence every day?” Armed with this new “information,” his friends discovered the joys of whitewashing a fence. Before long, Tom’s friends were not only paying him for the privilege, but deriving real pleasure from the task—a win-win outcome if there ever was one. From our perspective, Tom transformed a negative experience to a positive one—he transformed a situation in which compensation was required to one in which people (Tom’s friends) would pay to get in on the fun. Could we do the same? We

I want you to tell me who made you feel this way Aub and I’ll fucking kill him right now. I’ll leave here and hunt his ass down, so that you never have to feel this way again. I don’t want to hear about you running. You’re never leaving me. You’re mine, Ari is mine and I protect what’s mine. I’m looking for a place and I want you two with me. I love what Jenny’s family has done for you both, but you belong with me.

No problem. I know you’ll want to take a closer look. It’s irresistible, like candy and babies.” “I know I’m going to regret asking this, but you find candy and babies irresistible?” Ari asked. “Hell no. They’re both sticky.” His partner waited. “Some people find them irresistible. And, you know...” Janco waved his hand. “They’re easy to steal...or something like that.” “I was right.” “About what?” “I regret asking that question.

I done a few things in my life that I’m not proud of, but this is the first time I ever felt really actually in danger of hell.” I looked at him to make sure he wasn’t joking. I didn’t think he was. “What do you mean?” “I mean we’re fixing to kill a gift of God,” he said. “One that never did ary harm to us, or to anyone else. What am I going to say if I end up standing in front of God the Father Almighty and He asks me to explain why I did it? That it was my job? My job?

Ah, just like old times,” Janco said. “Oh, wait. What am I saying? It’s just like almost every time I’m with you, Yelena. Don’t you get tired of being arrested all the time?” “You’re exaggerating,” I said. “Oh, that’s right. I forgot about our last mission. We weren’t locked up, just tied down. My mistake.” “Give it a rest, Janco,” Ari said. “Yeah, well, it seems every time I’m in Sitia, I’m thrown into jail. Do you think they’ll stamp my frequent-visitor card? I think I get a prize if I’ve been in them all.

Dear Dan, I recently attended one of your lectures, and I was wondering why an Israeli guy telling Jewish jokes is wearing an Indian shirt? D.A.: In general I am not someone who should be asked for fashion advice, but this particular case might be the one exception........My solution? I figured that as long as I am wearing clothes from a different culture, no one is politically correct (and this includes almost everyone in the United States ) could complain that I'm underdressed. After all, any such critic could be offending a whole subcontinent.

Jesus it’s clean in here,” Theo said, glancing around the spotless leather interior. “Just the way I like it.” Leone chuckled. “Don’t let Theo eat in the car, then. There’ll be crumbs in places in the upholstery you didn’t even know about.” Jamie leaned an elbow on the middle armrest and glanced at him. “That so?” Theo pressed his finger to the condensation on the front window and started writing. “I like my cars with personality.” “That means he cherishes the smell of stale crackers.” “Leone!” She laughed. “Hey, I like it. All I have to do is feel the grains and I know I’m home.

I’m surprised you didn’t go after him.” And glad. “I wanted to, but Ari stopped me.” “Did he sit on you?” I teased. That earned me a smile. “No. He used logic.” “Yay for logic.” “I better go and tell them you’re safe. They’re waiting with the guards.” “The guards?” “Yes, I insisted they remain there. It was difficult since Ari and Janco won’t let me go anywhere on my own.” “That’s good. Stronger together, remember?” He hesitated for a second, then said, “I need to tell Ari he was right.” “It could be worse.” Valek waited. “It could be Janco who was right.” “Ah, yes. That would be worse.

Madam, you can’t be more desperate than I.” He wound his arms around her and grunted. “The evidence is drooling on your stomach. I have not lost this erection for five days. Doral looks at me and winces. You have obliterated my dignity in front of my staff. I have become a laughingstock, a by-word for ‘pussy-whipped male’. Every time I walk into a room, the conversation dies. I entered the mess hall, yesterday—530 officers and enlisted men. Silence, Fleur. Dead silence.” She sniffed. By the gods, this must be a unique experience for him. I’m certain he has never been the butt of the joke before. “I don’t think you appreciate the torture and humiliation you inflict. Do you know how uncomfortable it is to ride a horse when I’m like this? Do you know how disconcerting it is to discuss cavalry deployment with Major Truillo while I’m sporting a cockstand to rival a stud horse? I couldn't get the man to look me in the face. Worse, he thought I reacted to him.” She nuzzled her face into Ari’s chest and tried to contain her amusement. Her imagination supplied the picture of the very handsome, very homosexual, very short Major Truillo standing with covetous eyes riveted to Ari’s substantial erection, all the while discussing the dry topic of cavalry placement. “For half an hour all I saw was the top of his head.” He paused for a moment then threw out, “He has a bald spot.

THE PROBLEMS OF dishonesty, by the way, don’t apply just to individuals. In recent years we have seen business in general succumb to a lower standard of honesty. I’m not talking about big acts of dishonesty, like those perpetrated by Enron and Worldcom. I mean the small acts of dishonesty that are similar to swiping Cokes out of the refrigerator. There are companies out there, in other words, that aren’t stealing cash off our plates, so to speak, but are stealing things one step removed from cash. There are plenty of examples. Recently, one of my friends, who had carefully saved up his frequent-flyer miles for a vacation, went to the airline who issued all these miles. He was told that all the dates he wanted were blacked out. In other words, although he had saved up 25,000 frequent-flyer miles, he couldn’t use them (and he tried many dates). But, the representative said, if he wanted to use 50,000 miles, there might be some seats. She checked. Sure, there were seats everywhere. To be sure, there was probably some small print in the frequently-flyer brochure explaining that this was OK. But to my friend, the 25,000 miles he had earned represented a lot of money. Let’s say it was $ 450. Would this airline have mugged him for that amount of cash? Would the airline have swiped it from his bank account? No. But because it was one step removed, the airline stole it from him in the form of requiring 25,000 additional miles.

I’m so sad,” I tell her. “I miss him.” “This self-pity isn’t doing you any favors. Where are you?” “In my neighborhood.” “Want to get a manicure?” She picks me up in her car and we drive to Long Island, where she’s from and manicures are really cheap. I choose orange. On the way home, we stop for iced coffee. “Hannah.” She talks fast. I know she speaks from love. “As we recover, we change. We learn to respect ourselves. We learn to live with integrity. I used to date the most awful men.” “Like Nick?” “Oh, I’ve had my share of Nicks.” “So how do you stop the Nicks?” I think of Corey, Ari, Josh. Something is different with Nick. He has gotten way under my skin. Just thinking of him makes my heart feel mangled. “Time. Recovery. Kindness. Honesty.” She makes it sound so simple. “I know he’s a mess. But he really loves me.” “Oh, girl.” Faith takes a long sip of her iced coffee. “Men are going to love you. People are going to love you. Do you know why?” “I have no idea.” “Because you are lovable. You might not know that yet, but the sooner you know it, the better.” “I don’t feel particularly lovable.” “Trust me,” she says. “You are plenty lovable. The trick is finding the person you want to love back.

You don’t have to charm me, Arie. I’m already yours.” “You’re damn right. You are mine, baby.

I think it has changed things for me and Jemma. I’d be blind not to admit that it’s changed her—that I’ve let that happen, I mean. It’s weird because even when I see myself doing it—spoiling her—I know that it’s not good. But it’s hard to not want to give her all of the things that I never could before. Things that I never had myself, growing up. Does that make sense?”  Gigi looked at Blu carefully before she spoke. “I do understand it. Yes. But I also think that Jemma is going to have some problems—or maybe not problems exactly, but she is acting a bit spoiled for sure, if I’m being honest.” “You can always be honest with me.” Blu smiled, grasping her friend’s hand in her own. “I know that you only want the best for Jemma. You’ve always just wanted the best for both of us. And I appreciate that so much.” “Well, I suppose that Jemma is not really much different from Ari when she was her age. I mean, I loved that child, but she would have been called spoiled by anyone.” Gigi laughed, thinking of the tantrums that the young Arianna used to have when she didn’t get something that she wanted. Yes, she had turned out okay—in the end. But then again, how would she have been without the accident—without her own illness and being faced with her death. She’d been forced to look at her life differently, to realize that many more things had mattered to her than the material wealth she’d grown up with.  “Yes, you do have a point about

Um," I point at his cape and gadgets. "You know you'll stand out, right?" He frowns at me. "You're none better," he says. I look down at my very medieval looking white gown and the two swords I carry. At least Yami is hidden as a dragon necklace. "You're right. I won't blend in either." He freezes. "Right, well, I'll just say it's Halloween." "But it's not." He raises an eyebrow.  "What do you mean?" "You can't just say it's Halloween. It has to be the actual day." "Really? Your human customs are so strange." He turns to the sink to wash his hands. I sigh. "Okay, we can say we're part of a fantasy game reenactment. Cosplay. That should give us a good cover." "Cosplay?" he says, holding the word in his mouth like a foreign thing he's afraid to taste. "Yeah, it's when humans dress up like characters from their favorite… " Ace's eyes are vacant and he looks bored. I sigh again. "Nevermind. Just let me do the talking if anyone questions our choice of clothing." He washes his hands, then gestures at the door. "After you." I lead, entering a place I once called a second home. Everything is familiar, everything makes me feel welcome. Jesus eyeing the naked sculptures. The Neon signs. The baby bottles filled with milk for customers' coffee. "Oh, Ari, sweetie. I didn't see you come in." Sheri runs up to me, wrapping me in a hug. "It's been so long. How have you been? And who's this dashing young man?" Ace raises his cape in front of his eyes. "It's Halloween." "No… no…" I shake my head and pull his cape down. "He's a friend. I'm just showing him the sights.

I’m fucking scared!” Kavin shouted then pushed me away. “We are on earth, Arie. Earth.” “It’s not the moon, Kavin. We have air, water, food, and my huge cock. Nothing to be scared of.” I placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll protect you, fair maiden.” Kavin

I've never felt anything like it. I usually have trouble..." "Coming?" "Well, yes, I mean, it's fine by myself. But hard. At other times. With people. But this time it wasn't... difficult." "Well, great. He's had a lot of practice." "Don't be mean." "I'm not, but you want me to act like great sex is the end of the world." It is the end of the world, I thought. "No. But it feels big. I can't explain it, I feel, womanly or something." "You think it's womanly to get fucked?" She had her clawed tones out and I retreated. "I don't want to argue about gender theory. I just feel like something real happened. And I wanted someone to talk to about it. Like a friend." "Let me guess," she said, tapping the spoon against the tablecloth. "He beat you up a little bit, called you a slut, and you thought that was really edgy, another spoiled white girl who wants to get slapped around because she always got everything she wanted." "Fuck, Ari." I shook my head. "It must be hard. To have already sized up the world, to already have written it off completely. Is it just so fucking boring all the time?" "Pretty much, Skip." "I would rather be called a slut by him than deal with the shit I get from the women here." I picked up my bowl. "Also, you're fucking white. By the way. And you don't get a medal for being gay.

Believe in me, Jess. I know what I'm doing looks crazy, maybe it is. But I can do it.

In a spurt of mischief, Ivan threw in, “We also talk about how the inside of your ass is warm enough to hard-boil an egg.” Ari snorted. “Yeah, I’m not falling for that one again.” “Wait, WHAT?!” Kyou screeched. “In my defense, it was a full moon, I was drunk, and Ivan was very, very convincing.” Ivan cackled. Ari had been drunk. Plastered, in fact. It hadn’t even taken all that much convincing to get Ari to try it. “He left egg in for three hours.” “My ass was so sore the next morning. And getting it out again was hell. I had to go after it with salad spoons—” “TMI. Okay? Way TMI, please stop talking.

I’m glad the clouds cleared a bit,” he said softly, still staring upwards. “It would be a shame to miss the stars out here.” “They’re the same anywhere you go,” Ari answered, thinking of Dav’s lessons so many years earlier. Ely looked down and met her eye. “That does not make them less beautiful.” “No. It is exactly why they are beautiful.

He quickly shoved stew in his mouth to give himself space to think. He’d often had nightmares about the Netherworld—a dark and horrible place with changing landscapes and impassable tests. Gran was right. Hardly anyone survived who chose to fight, but stories were told of some who’d been granted second and even third lives. It made Casper nervous. One day, he too would have to face that cursed place. He’d face the Keeper, and he’d have to make a choice: to fight for his life at the risk of his soul or move on. 'I’m definitely moving on', he thought to himself. 'It’s not worth the risk.' He wondered what had made it worth the risk to Gran’s friend. Who would risk the peace of the Afterlife to come back to this horrible place?

He quickly shoved stew in his mouth to give himself space to think. He’d often had nightmares about the Netherworld—a dark and horrible place with changing landscapes and impassable tests. Gran was right. Hardly anyone survived who chose to fight, but stories were told of some who’d been granted second and even third lives. It made Casper nervous. One day, he too would have to face that cursed place. He’d face the Keeper, and he’d have to make a choice: to fight for his life at the risk of his soul or move on. 'I’m definitely moving on,' he thought to himself. 'It’s not worth the risk.' He wondered what had made it worth the risk to Gran’s friend. Who would risk the peace of the Afterlife to come back to this horrible place?

Uuuuuh.” His voice sounded very growly. “My name is Moore and I’m overwhelmed with the number of words you just said in a row.” “You can do better than that. What’s your birth sign?” “My birth sign?” “When is your birthday?” “April 9th.” “An Aries. Nice. Feisty, grrrr.” “I don’t know what’s happening,” he muttered.

You really think that would be it? Honestly? You're afraid of killing someone and, what, never getting over it?" "No. I'm afraid of killing someone and not feeling a thing.

That's why they should be afraid of me. I'm damaged because I should've died but instead I survived.

I know you feel like you shouldn't have to put up with racist teachers. But all of us have some racism lodged in the way we think. That's what the world we inhabit teaches us from childhood. If Mrs. Livermore is a racist, it's because she was taught to be one. It's awfully hard to unlearn those kinds of terrible lessons, especially if you don't recognize that what you learned was wrong. A lot of White people-and I don't say all White people- think they're a little bit better, a little more American and a lot of those people aren't bad people. They aren't even aware of the fact that they're a part of an entire system that is centered around them. It's complicated, Ari. I don't think I'm explaining this very well.

I’m Rain Low. Wild child. Aries woman. I surrender to no one.

I’m a Rossignol,” I say quietly. “A Nightingale in my own way.” “A survivor,” Ari adds.

Went a little off script there, Lancaster,” I muttered to him as we headed down the tunnel toward our locker room where we would no doubt get reamed by Coach until the game started. “I’m an entertainer, James,” Ari said sarcastically. “I have to do what the music compels me to do.” “The music compelled you to mount me?” He grinned at me smugly. “Sir Mix-a-Lot demands someone be mounted.

I’m not sure I understand,” Vara said, growing a little exasperated. “What current? You mean this river?” “No, Vara,” Kuper said. “Not water currents. Currents in life. There are forces everywhere outside our control, determining the directions we take, or trying to.

Nothing seems to fit anymore. I can’t be Aristos, but I don’t think I’m Aris either. I don’t know who I am.” She was lost. Dianthe grabbed her knee. “You are a woman who gave up everything to defend her dominion. You are a flyer.” Aris

I am Hellhammer!” shouted a giant, imposing man in black armor. “And I’m Heckmallet,” said a petite woman with a squeaky voice.

Believe it, dude. But even if Ari and I are mistaken we are neither confused nor confusing. There is nothing inconsistent or incoherent about my definitions, nor do they contradict ordinary usage. A libertarian or anybody else who can’t understand what I’m saying is either playing dumb or he really is. People who are maybe not even half-educated understand what I say about work.

Never saw a point in showing up for jury duty. I already know I’m going to vote guilty.” Ari’s mouth made a tiny O, and she put her hand to her heart. “What about justice?” “It is justice. Whoever they are, they’re guilty of making me show up for jury duty.

Andy’s Message Around the time I received Arius’ email, Andy’s message arrived. He wrote: Young, I do remember Rick Samuels. I was at the seminar in the Bahriji when he came to lecture. Like you I was at once mesmerized by his style and beauty, which of course was a false image manufactured by the advertising agencies and sales promoters. I was surprised to hear your backroom story of him being gangbanged in the dungeon. We are not ones to judge since both of us had been down that negative road of self-loathing. This seems to be a common thread with people whom others considered good-looking or beautiful. In my opinion, it’s a fake image that handsome people know they cannot live up to. Instead of exterior beauty being an asset, it often becomes a psychological burden. During the years when I was with Toby, I delved in some fashion modeling work in New Zealand. I ventured into this business because it was my subconscious way of reminding me of the days we posed for Mario and Aziz. It was also my twisted way of hoping to meet another person like me, with the hope of building a loving long-term relationship. It was also a desperate attempt to break loose from Toby’s psychosomatic grip on my person. Ian was his name and he was a very attractive 24 year old architecture student. He modeled to earn some extra spending money. We became fast friends, but he had this foreboding nature which often came on unexpectedly. A sentence or a word could trigger his depression, sending the otherwise cheerful man into bouts of non-verbal communication. It was like a brightly lit light bulb suddenly being switched off in mid-sentence. We did have an affair while I was trying to patch things up with Toby. As delightful as our sexual liaisons were there was a hidden missing element, YOU! Much like my liaisons with Oscar, without your presence, our sexual communications took on a different dynamic which only you as the missing link could resolve. There were times during or after sex when Ian would abuse himself with negative thoughts and self-denigration. I tried to console him, yet I was deeply sorrowed about my own unresolved issues with Toby. It was like the blind leading the blind. I was gravely saddened when Ian took his own life. Heavily drugged on prescriptive anti-depressant and a stomach full of extensive alcohol consumption, he fell off his ten story apartment building. He died instantly. This was the straw that threw me into a nervous breakdown. Thank God I climbed out of my despondencies with the help of Ari and Aria. My dearest Young, I have a confession to make; you are the only person I have truly loved and will continue to love. All these years I’ve tried to forget you but I cannot. That said I am not trying to pry you away from Walter and have you return to me. We are just getting to know each other yet I feel your spirit has never left. Please make sure that Walter understands that I’m not jeopardizing your wonderful relationship. I am happy for the both of you. You had asked jokingly if I was interested in a triplet relationship. Maybe when the time and opportunity arises it may happen, but now I’m enjoying my own company after Albert’s passing. In a way it is nice to have my freedom after 8 years of building a life with Albert. I love you my darling boy and always will. As always, I await your cheerful emails. Andy. Xoxoxo

Some years later, during a heart-to-heart chat, a friend of mine remarked that I have the propensity to disappear, when faced with hindrances. He advised me to face problems head-on, instead of avoiding confrontations and running away like a coward, much as I had with my dad, with you, and with Tony. This is a liability I’m learning to confront. And, it isn’t easy.               Thanks to my sister, Aria, I was able to make peace with my father, before he passed. For years, I had resented the way he treated us, during our Christmas vacation at Vaduz. I couldn’t bring myself to forgive the insults he flung at us. Although my mother did her best to assuage the damage, I fled as quickly and as far as I could. I had refused to meet with my dad unless he apologized; he refused to budge. During his final days, Aria and Ari begged me to return home, to pay my respects. It was then and there that we made peace. Before he took his final breath, he apologized and asked my forgiveness. When he finally accepted me for who I am, an immense relief flooded me. I came to the realization that our time on earth is short, and if either one of us had been less difficult, our years of estrangement could have been resolved long before.               Relief followed apprehension, for I knew he had died in peace; for this, I am eternally grateful.               What about you? How did you get on with your father? When we parted ways, you had unresolved issues with him, as I did with mine. Now that the ball is in your court, send me your chronicles.☺

Do you fancy catching a movie at the Sturbridge Theater tonight? That new Robert Pattinson movie is showing,” I ask her, the phone cradled against my chest. “Definitely sign me up for that!” Ari replies, chuckling as I mock scowl. Her easy laugh warms my soul. “We’re in,” I tell Gil, arranging to meet him and his date in the diner later. “So, who is it this time?” Ari asks, resting her chin in her hands. “Anyone we know?” Considering I can count the girls on one hand who have enjoyed more than one date with Gil, I doubt it’ll be someone familiar. “I didn’t ask; guess we’ll find out soon enough.” “Five bucks says it’s a blonde,” Ari quips. “That’s one bet I’m not taking,” I admit, twirling a lock of her hair around my finger. “Gil’s penchant for blondes is world-renowned.

The thing is I love my dad. My mom too. And I keep wondering what they're going to say when I tell them that someday I want to marry a boy. I wonder how that's going to go over? i'm the only son. What's going to happen with the grandchildren thing? I hat that I'm going to disappoint them, Ari. I know I've disappointed you too.

Thank you for taking a chance on my novella for Melody Anne’s exciting Kindle World launch. I chose to write for her Surrender series because I truly loved Rafe and Ari together, and I loved how they started and how they ended up together. If your heart twisted when they had to part at the beginning of their story (I’m being deliberately vague to avoid accidentally spoiling anyone) – well, that was exactly how I felt, too. But it was a beautiful kind of pain because I knew they had a happy-ever-after waiting for them.   If you enjoyed this

…If I can locate Ari or Aria (Andy’s sister) I’m sure I will be able to locate my ex-lover. Sam, out of curiosity; are you currently single or attached? Best Wishes! Young.

Ari, you’ve been through enough.” “Stop treating me like I’m broken, Jax.” The words come out on an angry whisper. “I’m not breakable. Not anymore. You’re not protecting me. You’re actively disregarding how I feel. I’m not looking for a husband. I’m just looking for someone who will take the ache and fear I feel away for a little while.

I don’t want to wear one because you won me, because I belong to you. I want to wear one because you love me enough to tell everyone I’m yours. I want to wear one so it feels like I have a shield around me. One that protects me from the rest of the world. One that tells the world I’m proud to love you and build the life we have together.” Jax strokes my cheek with his knuckle. “You’re the most precious thing I have, Ari. Whatever words express that, I give them to you willingly. Just promise me you’ll spend the rest of your life with me.

Ari was grinning at me through the windows as I went around the truck to hop in. “I’m like a proud papa, Linc. Look at our boy, just out in the world, blackmailing people like a psychopath,” he gushed as soon as I’d gotten in.

You know who I fucking am. And don’t you fucking say his name again, or I’m going to choke you with my mother fucking cock,” Ari Lancaster growled.

Ari don’t look at me, you won’t be getting two damn cars. When you tired of your shit, we’re trading that bad boy in, and you better hope they giving you a good deal. I’m rich, but I’m not Juelz Kassom rich,” Zelan said with the side-eye directed at Ari. I had tuned them out, I was just in shock. I couldn’t believe what had just taken place.

That's Ari's grandmother and her best friend," I told him. "Looking like that! Damn, they fine as hell!” Blaze spoke. "Nigga you gone get worms, and I promise you I'm disowning your ass!" Gabe told Blaze, and I couldn't hold my laughter.

What the hell you mean, who I am today? Damn you slow Ari, I’m Lai today, I’m gonna be Lai tomorrow, and I’m one of the coldest women you are going to ever meet in your life! Cynt, stop smoking that shit near my damn granddaughter, she starting to act slow again!” I laughed.

But being the oldest, it’s like, well, of course Ari can handle it. I’m like a miniature grown-up. And I don’t know if I want to be that. No one asked me if I wanted to. It shouldn’t be automatic that the older kid has to shoulder all the heavy stuff and the younger kid just gets to skateboard through life, covered head to toe in helmets and knee pads and elbow pads.

I feel something like a chrysalis, like the husk left behind. There's the thought that he won, in the only way he could ever truly win; he took me, became me, erased me. But, of course, that's impossible: I'm still here. So why do I feel like I'm less now?

He pulled out the little pink pig and handed him to her with an identical card to the ones she’d been carrying. She opened the card and read it out loud. ‘Pooh, promise you won’t forget about me, ever. Not even when I’m a hundred.’ [Pooh thought for a little.] ‘How old shall I be then?’ ‘Ninety-nine.’ [Pooh nodded.] ‘I promise. If you live to be 100, I want to live to be 100 minus one day so I never have to live without you.’ “Promise me,” Noah said. Arie looked up. “Promise me that you will allow me to live to be one hundred minus one day with you so that I never have to live without you.” Arie looked down at the card, and then down at Piglet, and then at Noah. And then at Piglet again. What is tied to Piglet’s bow? “Oh my goodness,” she gasped. “Marry me, Arie. I’m asking you again. Please. Be my wife.

I'm coronavirus brave. I miss my grandparents, My friends, my teachers, The playground, the fence. But I know we strive all day and night, And together, UNITED, we'll be all right.

Ari spent most of a year splenetically venting, about his wife, his son, his partners, his employees, etc. Feeling shut out, I often found myself shuttling between resentment, detachment, and feeling intimidated. Eventually, I understood that I was withdrawing, withholding a necessary confrontation, in retaliation for the narcissistic injury I felt about my perceived lack of impact on him. This understanding helped me to reorganize and mobilize the assertiveness I needed in order to reach Ari. One day, I finally raised my voice and said, quite loudly, “You know, I would like to say some things to you, but I’m afraid if you don't like what you hear, you will bite my head off, possibly literally.” Ari looked up at me with his sharp, penetrating eyes, and I was scared. I was quite surprised and touched, though, to see Ari's eyes go moist, his face reddening.

I’m simply suggesting that saying that “we’re fat because we’re eating more calories” is a lot like saying that “wind is caused by trees waving their branches.

Ari [Up] hides nothing from our audiences: if she’s in a bad mood, she shows it, and if we happen to be on stage when she’s not happy, she just does a shit gig. There’s no You’ve paid money to see this so I’m going to give you a good time, or I’m not going to let the band down – she’s just grumpy and uncommunicative. This is a good thing in many ways, we’re against faking it, we tell it like it is. People in bands are just like the audience: they have good days and bad days, we’re not pantomime or theatre, we’re no different to anyone else. We don’t see ourselves as entertainers, trying to make the audience forget their troubles for forty minutes. We see ourselves as warriors. We’d rather people confronted their anger and dissatisfaction and did something about it. Like Luis Buñuel said, ‘I’m not here to entertain you, I’m here to make you feel uncomfortable.

Although unjust and unfounded, the haunting analogy is pervasive. Here it is not suggested by anti-Israel propaganda but rather in the language the soldiers use as a matter of course. When A. gets up to do guard duty in one of the interrogation wards, he says, “I’m off to the Inquisition.” When R. sees a line of prisoners approaching under the barrels of his friends’ M-16s, he says with quiet intensity: “Look. The Aktion has begun.” And even N., who harbors strong right-wing views, grumbles to anyone who will listen that the place resembles a concentration camp. M. explains with a thin smile that he has accumulated so many days of reserve duty during the intifada that soon they will promote him to a senior Gestapo official.

Ari, I just want you to be happy.” I wanted to tell her that happy was hard for me. But I think she already knew that. “Well,” I said, “I'm at that phase where I'm supposed to be miserable.” That made her laugh. We were okay.

I pulled a dagger from my belt and was instantly at Avatrex's throat. Dimitri pursed his lips a little, but didn't stop me. "I would kill a thousand men to save my sisters," I seethed, glaring. "I'm not the timid little 'kitten' you kidnapped over a month ago, so I suggest you start talking.

Two at a time, three at a time… whatever happens, happens,” Tyler went on. “We’re not big planners, Ari. If I get horny at two in the morning, I’m walking over and plucking your naked ass right out of Axel’s bed.

I’m an Aries. And in another life, I would’ve made you my queen. I would’ve dragged you back to my place and worshipped you until you begged me to stop.

Onassis would fly in from time to time that summer and autumn [1972] and stay at his suite at the Pierre,” recalled Stanley Levin, who helped manage the Onassis empire. “He’d call Jackie and ask to see her. Whereas early in their marriage, she’d have him stay at 1040, now she didn’t want him around, which would enrage him. ‘I’m Aristotle fucking Onassis,’ he’d roar. I’d say, ‘Yeah, well, she’s Jackie fucking Kennedy, and she’s not going to kiss your ass, Ari. She already got what she wanted out of you.’ He said he wanted to see the kids if he couldn’t see her. She’d allow it with John only; she wanted him to have a relationship with the boy, not so much Caroline.

She told that same friend something Ari used to say, an aphorism some might’ve found offensive but which Jackie thought was clever, if cynical. “He used to say, ‘A woman is like the world,’” she recalled. “‘At twenty years of age, she’s like Africa, semi-explored. At thirty, she’s India, warm, mature and mysterious. At forty, she’s America, technically perfect, but superficial because, deep down, she’s troubled. At fifty, she’s Europe, completely and utterly in ruins. And at sixty, she’s Siberia. Everyone knows where she is, but no one wants to go to her.’ After we had a good laugh, I made him promise to tell me that story every ten years,” Jackie concluded. She added, “I’m fifty now and, I guess, completely and utterly in ruins.