opulence
/ˈɒpjʊl(ə)ns,ˈɒpjʊləns/
great wealth or luxuriousness.
Apollo III, a gang consisting of all girls, tasked with robbing Casino's all over America. What happens when Apollo III crosses paths with Harry Styles, the owner of Stardust Casino, an...
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Luna's P.O.V:
A selection of flashbacks ranging from 14-16 years old, this will help you understand Luna and Jade a little better hopefully <3
I think when I first realised that I wasn't straight, I was 14, I felt sick to my stomach.
Another girl with another girl was wrong, from day one that's what I was taught. We were a Christian family... heavily Christian, the idea of me even slightly questioning my sexuality made my stomach drop.
Kissing a girl both repulsed and excited me.
I was fucking disgusting, but I couldn't help but want it.
How would my parents react? How would the church react? How would my friends react?
Why me?
I pushed the thoughts away, told myself that I was 14 and naive, I'd grow out of it.
My parents would say it was just a phase, and if they did, I'd agree with them.
When I have my first kiss, with a boy, obviously, it'll feel different, I know it. It will feel like it is in the movies, like electricity, and my stupid, and unreachable thoughts of kissing a girl would go away.
I prayed everyday since I had those thoughts, praying that I'd be normal again. I didn't see why God had cursed me, and poisoned me. I didn't do anything bad, well not that bad. I felt disgusted with myself. I just wanted to be normal. Just for him to hear my pleas, and make me normal. For hours I'd sit there and pray to God, I'd stay up later and then wake up earlier, I thought that the more I prayed, the quicker he'd fix me.
I often wondered who I was praying to. I mean, clearly there wasn't a God. I prayed and prayed and nothing changed. If God was real he wouldn't create me to think these things, and he'd have fixed me by now.
I was 15 when I had my first kiss with a boy. It wasn't electrifying, more... electrocuting. He had dry and rough lips. They moved against mine and it felt like sandpaper, it burnt and I hated it, I thought it couldn't get any worse than this. I opened my mouth to let his tongue inside, then I felt his hand burn into my hip.
I was wrong, it somehow got impossibly worse, the kiss was disgusting, and the way he grabbed my hip nauseated me. I stood up, and said I had to go. I went home that day and cried for hours. I wasn't normal but I couldn't face that just yet.
I felt like I had absorbed this hatred of homosexuals into my bones. The internalised homophobia ran in my blood. I couldn't face who I was, because all my life I was taught that I was a deviant if I thought this way.
