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bribe-the-door · 4 years

Text

the things that we’ll never know [001]

the one where best friend!harry apologizes

a/n: hi friends :) it’s been a minute... hasn’t it? i’ve been going a bit stir crazy waiting for quarantine to end and the world to feel normal. so, to deal with the angst i have toward the current state of the world, I give you: fine line era angst.

let me know if you’re interested in seeing more from me! i sure miss writing and i think it might be something i get back into these days :) xoxo h

***

Are you still watching?

A banner pops up on your laptop screen, pausing the credits of yet another episode of Grey’s Anatomy. You scroll to the corner, click “yes”, and settle back into your spot; the corner of a well-worn grey sofa. A small grey cat, lovingly named Bean, readjusts her head and falls back asleep against you. The familiar two-beat drum sounds and Netflix shines in its red glory, the only light to illuminate your small space.

It is probably better this way, the darkness.

Having remained almost completely stationary for the past three days, the apartment is showing signs of abandonment and disarray. The space, normally light and airy despite its tiny size, feels cramped and stuffy. Plants droop in their pots as the sun sinks deeper into the sky and you’re too bothered to turn on the string lights. Instead you stay put, wilting, too.

Your laptop is wedged between a plate and bowl from a long-since concluded meal. A lone coffee mug sits cold, the dregs of drip coffee stagnant in the bottom of the cup. It will leave a ring of discoloration when you try to scrub it clean. There is a mess of cords under your legs; a charger, heating pad, headphones.

You’ll untangle them later, you tell yourself.

A sudden rush of action on-screen catches your attention, diverting your thoughts for a few minutes. An ambulance rushes to the hospital and interrupts a love triangle moment. Someone is caught in a longing gaze across the emergency department. Chaos ensues and there’s a dramatic cut to the next scene of hands furiously moving through surgery.

Your phone buzzes next to you and you glance at its screen, blue light casting a gastly glow over your face. It’s nothing important and you swipe to close the app.

A glaring red “1” catches your eye.

Your thumb hovers over the message app, knowing exactly what this text says. It’s remained unread, untouched, for three days now. An internal battle heats up in your brain, and, avoiding the turmoil altogether, you shake your head and lock your phone. It’s tossed aside as you push off of the couch. Netflix continues to play in the background.

You make your way into the kitchen (Bean following, curious) and scour the cabinets for something else to add to your pile of dishes on the coffee table. They’re bare except for a stale, half-eaten loaf of bread, some peanut butter, a box of elbow macaroni, and a can of peaches. A stray protein bar is likely hiding out somewhere in there, too, but you close the cupboard in defeat.

Since when were you so easily shaken by a simple “hi”?

A single laugh floats from your lungs. It happens again, this time out of disbelief.

And then it turns to a sob.

There is nothing simple about this greeting.

[three days earlier]

“Y/n,” Harry sighs. His hand rakes through his curls and leaves them disheveled. “It’s not that difficult of a concept.”

You feel your heart lurch into your throat, the second time this evening. The silence leaves only another opportunity for Harry to drive the wedge deeper between the both of you. He seldom leaves an argument without having the final word.

His eyes find yours amidst the tension. It’s uncomfortable and feels similar to the way your father scolded you as a child. His gaze locks you in place; cold.

“You’re acting as if you can’t see what I see,” he says, voice hardly a whisper. It grows in volume as the emotions well up within his chest. “Feel what I feel… It’s not /there/ anymore, y/n.”

Your lips part in attempts to interject, but are closed just as quickly.

“You’re not here anymore.” Harry’s head shakes and his eyes continue their grip on yours. “I’ve tried. I’ve tried and tried and nothing seems to stick. Not a single goddamn thing! I can’t figure you out, y/n. I’m going crazy trying to understand where I went so wrong.”

An angry fist pounds the table beside him and you stand in your place; fear paralyzes you and you are one with the cold kitchen tile. It’s a standoff now and neither of you move. You can’t move.

“Do you not have anything to say?” he spits, disbelief tinting the outburst. His eyes pity you, searching your face for any semblance of attention. Emotion. Something.

“I…” you begin, swallowing back the lump that’d made its presence known minutes ago. Your mind draws blank as his eyes bore into yours. This feels completely out of left field.

“Nothing?!”

“Harry, please.”

His hands fall to his sides in a final defeat. “No… No. No, y/n.” He’s talking to himself, muttering under his breath. He begins to turn away from the table, phone in hand. The counter is his next pursuit, likely in search of his keys, you presume.

“Where are you going? You ask, snapping to attention when you realize the familiar path he’s taking. He’s done this before. Many people in your life have taken this path, actually.

It’s the one ending in a slammed front door, an empty foyer. You don’t shake those feelings easily.

Harry laughs, “I’m not sure. But I’m not staying here.”

You take a step toward him and try to form a coherent sentence, but your tongue trips in the process. You don’t come up with much, but it’s an attempt.

“But, what about us, Harry? I love you!”

His body turns slowly to face you. He’s got his belongings in hand—the weathered notebook he keeps with him at all times, his keys (in a loop around his fingers)—and a sweater drapes itself over the crook of his elbow. Harry’s hands are full, but his eyes fail to show any sign of life.

“How do you know what love is, y/n?” He asks, tone dripping with doubt. “How do you know what that could possibly mean when you show yourself no love?”

His accusation holds the same comfort as burning your tongue on coffee. Stubbing your toe on the doorframe. A paper cut washed with soap.

When you fail to answer, Harry earns his final word in this argument.

“I can’t stay with someone who doesn’t love herself. I can’t fix you, y/n.”

Instantly, your chest floods cold. It’s an interesting sensation, as your cheeks run warm from anger while the rest of you ceases to function. You’re confident your heart fails to beat any longer; your lungs constrict like a snake around its prey.

“I’m done trying.”

Harry leaves you in the kitchen, the sounds of his boots echoing further and further away from where you stand. The front door shuts with a firm slam and serves as his ‘goodbye’.

You’re left standing in your spot, frozen as your thoughts race silently through your head. It feels like TV static buzzing in your ears and you can’t turn down the volume.

How is silence so deafening?

***

The phone sits in your hand as another /ping!/ sounds. It burns in your hand as you realize whose name sits above the few words on your screen.

Harry (7:54 PM): Y/n… Can we talk?

Your mouth tastes of pennies and you relax your jaw, grimacing at the now-sore part of your lip imprinted by your teeth. The red “2” shines angrily from its spot at the bottom of your phone. With a sigh, you tap on the square and reveal a text-thread you wish you never have to read again.

The blue and grey boxes hold words and emotions from days ago and, in your separation from them, you’re unprepared for the visceral reaction deep within your chest. Your heart drums underneath the cage of your ribs, constant, but worried. Like it knows something you don’t.

Feelings are pushed to the wayside and you begin to type back a response.

You (7:58 PM): Sure.

The grey “typing” bubble appears almost instantly after yours delivers. /He’s been waiting for you to respond/ you realize.

Harry (7:58 PM): It’s such a relief to hear from you, y/n.

Harry (7:59 PM): I miss you.

Grey’s Anatomy plays across the room from you, another heated argument on-screen, but it is drowned out by the thudding of your heart. It’s working in overdrive now.

For days, you did nothing but attempt to forget Harry’s existence: his clothes sat in a pile at the bottom of your closet (despite the overwhelming urge to pull that grey jumper over your shoulders at this moment); your mirror sits bare now that the polaroids of you both are nowhere to be found; his favorite coffee mug, along with his small collection of shot glasses and a teacup with the matching spoon, have been packed away and sit in a small cardboard box beside your kitchen counter.

Your apartment has been picked apart, day by day, to rid Harry of the space. It feels impossible, though, with how much time he spends (spent?) here.

Another text pops up:

Harry (8:07 PM): Y/n, are you there? I really want to make this right.

“Ugh!” you groan, loud enough to make Bean stir from her spot. “Sorry, baby, I’m just…”

Just what? you think to yourself. Just… Frustrated? Confused? Hurt?

Bean nudges your elbow with her tiny head, rubbing against your arm to try and earn some affection. You reach behind her ears and scratch small circles until she begins to purr. It’s hard to focus on anything present right now; you find yourself mulling over things from weeks ago. Swept up in memories once sweet now stab at your heart with a vengeance reserved for the most heinous of crimes.

There was the date at sunset in the park, complete with a chilled bottle of prosecco to celebrate your graduation and a slice of pie from the bakery down the road. The time he surprised you at work with balloons, a bouquet of peonies and eucalyptus (your favorites), and a stupid grin of his face “Just Because”. Remember when Harry decided to decorate your entire apartment for Valentine’s Day because you’d mentioned in passing no one had ever done anything for that holiday growing up, and it was your favorite? There were roses everywhere; Bean had a pink bow on her head, and Harry insisted on baking a heart-shaped cake.

Why did something so seemingly perfect cut even deeper on second thought?

You sigh again, shaking your head at the phone.

“What do I do, Bean?” She chirps in response and you let out a single laugh. “You have it so much easier, you know? No boys to break your heart, no job to take up all of your time.”

You pick her up and hold her in front of you, leaning forward to rest your forehead against hers. Her sandpaper-tongue brushes over your nose and she meows again.

“Okay, sorry.” You put her down and she curls up in your lap, purring against your stomach.

Things move in slow-motion as you think, and you’re not entirely sure how much time has passed. Phone in hand, your fingers anxiously hover over the screen and anticipate a string of words. Each time, though, they feel wrong, and you delete the entire thing.

”I just want to make things right.”

It feels like an internal battle to decipher what Harry means with this pleading. There’s a part of you who wants nothing to do with him, another who desperately wants him back, and the most confusing part, who feels like you were the one in the wrong here. Love is a tumultuous thing; intense, passionate. It feels utterly terrifying in the simplest of ways. Was your lack of self-love really what caused such an uproar in the first place? Had you been blind to your own hatred this whole time?

A knock at the door interrupts your ponderings.

Bean looks up suddenly, ears flickering at the noises from the hall. She jumps from your lap and runs to the dining table, hiding behind its oak legs. You can hardly see her, only the glimmering green of her eyes as they move to survey the apartment.

It takes minimal thought to figure out who stands on the other side of the door and you aren’t sure if it’s wishful thinking or fear of confrontation.

You stand and cautiously approach the hall, legs more like jell-o than limbs. Another knock sounds and the hair on your arms stands on end. This feels like a scene from a horror film; ominous. In attempts to steady your breathing, you don’t reach for the door at first, knowing full-well who stands on the other side.

The floor creaks underneath your right foot, and you swear under your breath. A quick “shit!” before you remember why you’re being so timid in the first place. A grimace crosses your face in wait.

Harry sighs from outside the door. “Y/n, I know you’re right there.”

You don’t say anything and instead look through the peep-hole. His face looks defeated, eyes searching the door for you as if he knows your every move.

“Can we please talk?”

The doorknob seemingly glows in response to his suggestion, simply begging for your touch. It feels entirely wrong to refuse conversation with the boy who, for the past few years, so gingerly held your heart and cared for you more than any family member could have.

He just wants to talk, you remind yourself. A quick talk.

You twist the lock on the knob, a metallic “yes” answering him instead of your own words. Next is the deadbolt, then the chain. The knob feels heavy in your hand as you turn it, but there isn’t any going back now.

Light floods into your apartment from the common hall, accompanied by the stale smell of cigarette smoke. Harry moves only his gaze to meet yours.

“Hi.”

You swallow before answering and realize how tightly you’d been holding your jaw the entire time. “Hi.”

His hands are in his pockets, and, illuminated by the harsh fluorescents of the hallway, he should have looked intimidating. But his shoulders hung low and his eyes were unsure.

Clearly neither of you were ready for this.

“Can I…” Harry starts.

You gesture forward, backing up against the door and allow him to enter.

He hesitates slightly before moving into the entryway, hovering for just a moment. The stiffness in Harry’s shoulders fades slightly as the door shuts behind you but the tension in his presence only increases.

Harry turns to face you, and, against your best interests, seconds pass as minutes. Slowly enough to study over his eyes; shadowy in the dim lighting of your hallway but ever still green. They invite you in like a warm mug of coffee after a chilling walk home from work and you find yourself biting back a grin. It all feels wrong, having him so close.

But, the heart wants what the heart wants, right?

“Can I?” He asks, more succinctly this time.

You nod a single nod, stepping a single step closer. He reaches forward to cup your chin in his hand, tipping your gaze up at his for just a second. That same emerald draws you in just like moments before, a safe embrace.

A welcome home.

Harry stays like this for just a moment more before dropping his hand, a sigh leaves his lips. You’re disheartened at the buildup leaving just as quickly as it’d come on.

“So about that text...” you laugh. He shares a laugh, too, but there’s a hint of pain in his tone.

You anticipate they’ll be a lot more hurt tonight.

***

feel free to let me know what you thought! this is just a little piece and it’s been fun to work back into the writing scene <3

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction

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cagestark · 5 years

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omg could you do a tamed drabble from tony’s pov from before they officially met and he’s piningb😍 or actually if u are keeping that for the sequel, just anything tamed from tony’s pov because i love and relate to his character sooo much omg ur writing is so beautiful

I could have written this all day. Sorry Peter barely appears.

For reference, here is Tamed.

“I’ve been thinking about you since last spring. You were in that fucking school play—I don’t fucking remember what it was about, I was too busy just staring at you. I’m in deep, here.”

The bodies form a sea and it threatens to drag him under. Tony feels like a solitary Jew halfway through the trek across the Red Sea only for Moses to say, Sorry, That’s it, You Shalt Not Pass, lifting his serpent staff like some Gandalfian bullshit that brings the waves down over his head. Since fucking when is a secondary school play so goddamn popular, Tony wonders as he breaks away from the crowd, slipping under the rope that blocks off the rest of the school. It’s only his second week here, but he knows the layout well enough to find some bathrooms to slip into, crack open one frosted window, and blow cigarette smoke out of while his pounding heart calms down.

The blistery air that pours in makes him cut his cigarette short. Fuck, he misses Miami. He misses the weather, where it wasn’t fucking freezing even in spring. He misses the familiarity. The status quo. The hard work he’d put in to forge his reputation in iron and the minimal energy it had taken to maintain it for so many years. Moving to New York had more than pulled the expensive Persian rug out from under him: it had turned his whole world inside out.

He could still feel the shadow of his father’s form as the man loomed over him, colder than the New England winter wind. Your school is having a play tonight, and attendees receive extra credit in their English courses. Get off your entitled ass and be one of those attendees, do you hear me?

Tony’s teeth ground tight remembering the way his heart had pounded, palms slick, the way he had ducked his head and muttered, Yes sir. Someday, he was going to give his old man what was coming to him. Someday just—wasn’t today.

“C’mon, Tony,” he mutters to himself, splashing cold water on his face. “Get the stupid program, get it signed, then get the fuck out. Piece of cake.”

The play cost three dollars to get in (three dollars too many, Tony reckoned looking at the hand-painted poster of a sky full of twinkling blobs that were meant to be stars). A teacher Tony doesn’t know sits inside the door leaving her initials on the programs of students aiming to prove their attendance. Her nose wrinkles at the smell of him, fresh smoke from his break in the bathroom, but of all the fucks he gives, this isn’t one. She squawks something at him when he turns straight around and marches out the door, but that’s not one of his given fucks either.

He’s in his car, warming his numb fingers in front of the blazing vents when he catches sight of the STARRING IN: text at the bottom of the program. That name catches his eye, one of the few that he’s bothered learning so far in his stay at Midtown Penitentiary.

Peter Parker.

The name evokes a visceral reaction in him, a tingling in his fingertips that has nothing to do with the threat of frostbite. He can still see the way the kid smiled at him, lifting a dainty hand to motion him over to the one free seat left in the AP class. The other assholes hadn’t given Tony the time of day, taking a look at his leather jacket and the jeans worn through at the knees and assuming he was some shit-for-brain goth. Not Parker, with his raucous curls, soft and free of product. Not Parker, with his bouncing knee and thin, tentative smile.

He hadn’t judged Tony. He hadn’t hesitated to lean over and share books with him since Tony’s hadn’t arrived yet. He didn’t gawk at the chipped polish on his fingernails (the kind that made him a fag according to his father).

All at once, Tony feels the cold, blistering wind on his face again. He jams his hands deep into his pockets and half-runs the last ten yards into the school. The teacher who’d signed his program glares at him, but he shrugs her off and gets in line. The auditorium is lined with darkened bleachers that aren’t even being used—instead chairs have been placed side by side on the floor, filling up fast, all turned towards the dark stage—but Tony can easily duck the rope to hide up where he can get the best views.

The best view of Peter Parker.

#cageanon #cagewrites #tamed #tw: homophobic slurs

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dragimal · 4 years

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ok this is like. MAJORLY self-indulgent, self-psychoanalyzing rambling so I’m putting it under a readmore, but my thoughts have been spinning in circles over this for like. practically my whole teen/adult life. and I just need to put it down somewhere

idc if anyone wants to read this or respond or anything, again I’m just basically trying to vomit out my thoughts until something makes sense

so like. anxiety. I know I have it, that’s the ONE Problems Disorder I’m 100% certain I’ve got, to whatever degree it matters

but that’s kinda the thing-- to WHAT degree, and DOES that matter? at what point can I say it’s a legitimate part of me, and at what point is it something negligible and unobtrusive?

b/c here’s the other thing-- anxiety is, in fact, a strong aspect of my self-image. it’s something I associate strongly with as a character trait, and I tend to relate to ‘meek’ characters

I know part of it is a defense mechanism. I had to make myself small, being raised by my mom. she’s a whole other rant, but essentially she’s a very defensively prideful person, and any attempt to steer a conversation towards your own accomplishments/needs/interests is met with a blank look and a swift topic change back to herself. (and god forbid u bring up her faults, that would guarantee manipulative guilt-tripping at best, screaming and crying at worst)

but there’s also another convoluted level to this defense mechanism. I recognized at a young age, on some subconscious level, that pride was/is my mom’s greatest downfall. so I internalized that as, “pride (and even more broadly, confidence) is bad and and a danger to those around you”

not to be Homestuck on main, but Dave’s first conversation with Dirk struck me on a level of personal experience that few other pieces of media have ever hit, particularly this bit

obviously the physical aspect of this abuse is beyond me, but the emotional manipulation, and Bro subsequently ruining a generally positive concept (the concept of heroism, in his case) hits incredibly close to home

my mom exuded confidence and always told me that confidence in myself over all else would save me, but she ultimately ruined confidence for me. I know there will always be this underlying thread of fear that if I’m not afraid-- that if I allow myself confidence-- that I will become like her. that I’ll hurt people with my pride

now this is all shit that I’ve known abt myself for a long time, and I know I’ve even mentioned some of this in passing before. but here’s what’s fucking me up nowadays: what happens when you cling to anxiety like this? what happens when you craft a disorder into your personality? where does subconscious reaction end and deliberate masking begin?

b/c here’s the other thing: I don’t truly hate myself. not rly-- not on the level I would say is dangerous or clinical. some of it may very well be real, but I definitely play it up. like play-acting at under-confidence

and it’s not like I don’t have pride either. I have tons of pride for various things I do or accomplish, namely academic studies, crafting/art, and just like working standards in general. when I can eloquently describe/argue my point, or accurately craft something to my inner image, I feel very real pride

but pride hurts. I feel pride, but equal to that is the shame I feel at feeling pride in the first place. it’s genuinely painful at times to accept a compliment without argument NOT because I necessarily disagree (tho there are definitely times where I DO actually disagree), but to accept a compliment is to admit I have pride in the thing being complimented, and THAT is unacceptable

and it’s not like my fear is unfounded either. I’ve hurt ppl w/ my pride before-- and this isn’t my anxiety making me self-critical, I KNOW this for a FACT. it simply comes with the territory of all that “gifted child” bullshit in school. yeah I was one of those. thankfully not a very outspoken student (the anxiety in my younger days was a lot more real and visceral), but I do still distinctly remember moments where my academic pride gave me an... inflated sense of presence over those that didn’t get the material, I guess u could say

I know there were times I made ppl feel small, due to my pride. hell, times I got overly, fearfully defensive of my knowledge or artistic skill to the point of talking over others and making them feel stupid. no one deserves to feel small, and it fucking tears me up to know that I did that to ppl. that I still knee-jerk react in that way sometimes, even now, and it still slips out

and isn’t that just proof that I can’t appropriately handle pride? that I’m not mature enough for confidence?

and it’s not even all about making myself small for others’ sake. half of it is this incredibly selfish knowledge that not living up to my own standards will fucking kill me if I let it

I feel like every ‘gifted kid’ experiences a chain events that starts at, “wow I’m so smart, I’m great at every subject!” and ends at, “christ I’m fucking garbage at literally everything.” we’re taught that success is in being able to do something well the first time (or at least quickly and with little effort), so if we’re not immediately good at something, we shut down b/c we were never taught that success is actually in the effort at the task

this has been talked to death by others so I don’t want to bother w/ it too long, but the critical thing to note is that there’s there’s this eventual sense of defeat in everything you do, when ur brought up w/ this mindset

I used to be somewhat competitive in certain things when I was younger-- the rare sports I played when I was RLY young, academics obviously, etc. or at least, competitive with my own personal standards, if not necessarily against other ppl. but every failure and mistake made me so upset that the angst was like. genuinely dangerous to my health

I used to play golf on a team in middle school, and every time I whiffed it I would get SO angry at myself that my dad literally told me that that level of upset would kill me someday and that I rly needed to stop

so I took that to heart and just. stopped caring

every time I whiffed it after that point, I was just like, “ah, well, what can ya do ¯|_(ツ)_/¯ ” this attitude definitely lowered my blood pressure, but it also rly killed my motivation to like... improve. b/c the thought of even trying to improve brought up all these feelings abt trying to meet my own standards of success, and how much it would hurt to fail

when u don’t set any standards u gotta meet, then when u fail u don’t rly fail, y’know? “well I didn’t even try, so it’s actually fine”

obviously I couldn’t give less of a shit abt golf anymore, but sometimes I wonder if my cold-turkey drop in confidence played a part in killing the interest itself? I know that sports and physical activity were never rly my thing in the first place, but did I perhaps give up so hard that I convinced myself that I didn’t even like those things in the first place?

I know it happened w/ academics at least: start to struggle with math? now I hate math. chemistry? that sucks too. etc etc

I kinda side-tracked here w/ all the talk of ‘gifted kid’ stuff, my point is that I have a vested interest in humbling myself-- to actively craft the persona of a meek, humble person

and I’ve been wondering if that, in and of itself, is manipulative. like, is it manipulative to let others think I rly lack THAT much in self-confidence? that I rly hate myself that much?

it certainly feels that way when I knee-jerk reject a compliment abt something I do, in fact, feel pride in-- when the shame at that pride is too much. but my friends don’t know it’s that reactive shame-- they think it’s that I rly don’t have confidence in that thing

but god, how do I even explain this fucking tangled, convoluted bullshit over my reaction to compliments? that I have to be small or I’ll hurt someone? that I do feel pride, and that’s the problem? what does that even MEAN to someone outside my own head??

and that’s not even to get into whether that manipulation is like, actually some subconscious tactic to get MORE compliments! am I fishing? when I make a post like this, am I actually just fishing for more compliments? is that what I’m doing??

I feel like I’m running in circles here, nipping at my own goddamned heels abt pride and shame and what is real and acting and does it even matter if nobody gets hurt?

do people get hurt? ppl get hurt when I allow myself pride, it’s happened before. but now I’m realizing that my self-hate may hurt ppl too-- my self-deprecation often goes too far, and it hurts the ppl who care abt me

how do I explain that self-deprecation is safe? a shield to hold back my pride? hell, it’s more accurate to say it’s a safe way to EXPRESS my pride in a way that ppl don’t detect. I acknowledge my faults, and if I frame it in a socially-acceptably comedic way, I get the pride of making someone laugh! it’s SAFE pride!

but is it? but is it, when it hurts ppl to hear me self-hate?

is there any way to feel pride safely?

I’ve never thought of myself as an actor, or as someone who can lie well (or at all). but can I lie, when I also believe the lie? is it a lie that I have anxiety? that I hate myself? that I have no confidence?

how much of me is real? how much does that hurt others? how do I carve out the parts of me that hurt others how do I make myself smaller in ways that are genuine and lasting and don’t hurt people??

I want to be small. I like being small. but am I small? or am I playing at being small?

I don’t know. I don’t know.

(cashing in on that safe comedic validation babeyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy)

#long post #shut up ashley #also @ my friends who may read this:#if it feels like I'm vagueing I'm not like. trying to do that #it's just genuinely easier for me to lay this out in an open format #rather than bring it up in a conversation #I have no idea what the FUCK I'm talking abt right now

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sleepyverstappens · 6 years

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F, G, I, U ☺️

Thank you for sending these in :D. I’ll stick with F1 fic/writers for F and U, because they’re fresher on my mind I guess.

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

This is so difficult, I’ll do two okay and that’s already way less then I could’ve added here xD.

“Max, I’m serious. If someone found out. God this is all kinds of wrong, you do realise that right.You’re so young still and I’m your team principal, there’s a power difference here it’s gonna look like I forced you into this. God I did, didn’t I? I just barged in here and took what I pleased, fuck. Fuck!”

And no, no that won’t do. He’s not gonna let Christian think he’s forced him into this. He was stupid to let this happen again for sure, but nobody forces him to do anything especially not this.

“No one forces me to do anything, you of all people should know that by now Christian!” He hisses back, all of a sudden very much aware of the people still roaming the energy station again.

“No one will believe that Max. This can’t happen again, for real this time. And delete those goddamn pictures!” Christian says before he slams the door closed behind him, leaving Max alone, naked and shivering. Not from the cold though, no from once again getting rejected by the older man.

I really liked this bit, because it feels like I really nailed both Christian and Max’s reactions. Christian is internally freaking out about it all and then he sees Max taking pictures and all that worry just spills out. And Max’s line about no one forcing him to do anything just feels very Max. He’s a stubborn guy both on and off track and I think with just those few words it really comes across?

“That’s different though. It’s about control I guess. That feeling of playing on the edge, on seeing how far I can go until you make me stop. Is it just giving up control for you?” Max asked.

“No, no I don’t think so. I guess it’s more like… like when you’ve got a bruise and press on it. Make it feel worse, but once you take your thumb away from the bruise it feels nice. Like when you twist a string around your finger until it turns blue, the way it feels when the blood rushes back in after you loosen the string. I guess, I guess it’s like that. The more you hurt me, the better it feels afterwards.”

I know it’s from a flashback scene in the Max/Lando fic, but I feel like it really explains why Lando is into getting hurt really well. Like I wrote in the fic itself it just explains it with simple examples of things everyone must have done at least once in their life. It was difficult to write a good explanation of why Lando was into painplay because it’s a tricky subject, but I think this worked out pretty well.

G: Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

It kind of depends on the story. The longer ones are often written out of order, which sometimes makes it more difficult, because then you end up stuck with multiple scenes that you somehow need to connect. The shorter ones often come to me from start to finish. But I’ve learned that sometimes it’s just better to skip to a part further into the fic if you’re stuck with another scene.

I: Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)?

I think that would be outsider pov fics. Like it’s not necessarily a guilty pleasure though, because I will tell it easily, but there generally just aren’t a lot of outsider pov fics in fandoms, so when I find one it’s just like finding a hidden little gem. I also definitely would not be able to write them myself. As for a guilty pleasure in writing I guess it would be kid!fic again, I just can never resist writing my otps with a cute little kid.

U: Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

@hypersofts aka higgsbosonblues on AO3, I’ve told her many times before how much I love her TWAWBU verse. I totally got sucked into it and I think that’s kind of when I truly gave into this new fic fandom. Like I had been reading F1 fic for a while, but mostly as a bit of a guilty pleasure. But with this one I was really waiting for updates and reading them as soon as I got the email notifications. To think I actually skipped it a few times when I saw it in the Max Verstappen tag because I wasn’t sure based on the summary :O And of course her other stuff is amazing as well!

@captainfuu aka extremesofts on AO3, at first we actually randomly wrote a few fics with a similar-ish storyline which was really fucking random. But her fics are just so so good! They’re just so visceral and raw. I can’t really pick out a favourite right now, but I always know that when I see a new fic of hers I’m in for a treat :D

@itsmaxver aka lasorcas on AO3, she only started actually writing and posting her fics (in English at least) but they’re so good! And after talking to her a bunch I know there is some amazing stuff still in the pipeline as well. Like I’ve told her before she’s just so good at writing the surroundings in fic (something I struggle with myself) which just sets the scene so perfectly.

#fanfic ask meme #cascadja

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smokeybrand · 3 years

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Mission Accomplished

After twenty f*cking years, the US is finally out of Afghanistan. It’s been decades, literally our longest war, and for what? Not a goddamn thing. We are literally leaving this country in the exact same position it was when we invaded. The illest thing about this whole clusterf*ck is the fact that, after we invaded initially way back in the early Aughts, we had this thing won within a month. I remember very distinctly chasing those Taliban assholes into the mountains and decimating them with drone strike. We lost, maybe, a handful of people. That entire force was on life support but instead of pulling the plug, W. opted to invade f*cking Iraq. None of the terrorists that bombed the Twin Towers were from Iraq. Saddam was little more than a figure head at that point. More to the point, he as a stabilizing force in the Middle East. Yes, he was a psychopath and incredibly cruel to his own people but in the macro sense of geopolitical politics, he was a very necessary evil. His unpredictability kept Iran in check and kept Saudi Arabia wary. George W. Bush abandoning the fight in Afghanistan and chasing after the man who “tried to kill his daddy” was a whole ass mistake that started this two decades of needless bloodshed.

Obama, of course, isn’t clear of this taint either. He could have done more to get us out of there much earlier but he did not. He even campaigned on that promise, one of many that he didn’t deliver. A lot of his agenda got stifled because of contrarian politicians, f*ck Mitch McConnell, but pulling out of Afghanistan was something he could have one at any time. I understand he had his hands full with ISIS but, you know, that was our fault, too. Because we had been in Afghanistan for too long. Then came along the Big Orange Shame of the United States. 45 ruined a lot of things about this country. SO many things. Things i would say are worse than his “negotiations” with the Taliban. I staunchly believe we needed to get out of there, one hundred percent, but the way Drumpf went about it was wrong. That arbitrary date to get out, one that was brokered with the intent to basically blackmail the citizenry in to voting him in for another term, was absolutely impossible. Mans couldn’t even handle a pandemic that island nations beat in a matter of months, what made him think he could watch over the greatest military retreat in US history? He couldn’t. Biden was left a twenty year mess and has done everything in his power to clean this sh*t up and left it for Joe Biden who has this same blood on his hands, too. Dude has done a poor job of it but he has his hands full, too. That pandemic i mentioned earlier? Yeah, it’s worse because a third of the country refuses to do what’s necessary to get over this f*cking hump.

Afghanistan was never a winnable situation. It’s basically desert Vietnam. Britain lost three times Russia once. and now the US. No one is ever conquering Afghanistan. At this point, the only way to do that is to commit abject atrocities but, even then, maybe not. The Taliban does that pretty regularly and people still fight back. I mean, not anymore. As i understand it, the military which we spent two decades training, just gave up territory without firing a single shot. Every time we left, the Taliban would just roll right in. Again, and i can’t stress this enough, I'm not saying we stay. I am saying we leave in a more orderly fashion. Biden should have told these terrorist f*cks we would be out by the turn of the year, f*ck whatever Drumpf said. If they didn’t want to play softball, we could play hardball and get not the thick of it all over again. You ant this land so bad, you can have it, however, we will remove every goddamn US citizen, every goddamn US military instrument, every US ally in this god forsaken country, or we’ll bomb this f*cker to oblivion. Trump dropped the largest non-nuclear bomb in Syria, i think, early on in his tenure. We got a few more of those we can drop on your mountains, bud. We’ll be out of your house by March. Instead, i get to see terrified Afghans clinging to the outside of military transports as they flee a country they didn’t even fight for.

This whole war was a mess. It started as a viscerally emotional reaction to a small band of assholes who had the audacity to attack the Fatherland. I say Fatherland because it’s very apparent that the US has no respect for women. It was aggravated by on man’s hubris, another man’s inadequacy, and still one more man’s panicked ego. Twenty years of this bullsh*t is finally coming to an end and it’s a bittersweet outcome. The Afghans left behind are screwed. The Taliban have their country and a lot of state-of-the-art arms as a bonus. China and Russia already recognize them as legitimate world powers so we got a new Axis forming. That’s fun. On the plus, We finally get the f*ck out of the Middle Est for a while and free up that money pit of a conflict. Never mind the Cost of Life, the United States has spent two trillion, trillion with a capital T, on this stupid f*cking war. That’s roughly one hundred billion a year! Do you know what we could have done with an extra hundred billion a year, over twenty f*cking years?? Like, Holy sh*t, man! all that loot is freed up to, hopefully, be reinvested in our own country. Hopefully. We’ll see. I know this takeaway is kind of macabre but, let's be honest, this whole twenty year exercise in blood and politics, has been rather macabre.

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ksbwnotes · 3 years

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Chapter 7

Ahhh next chapter is...going to brutalize my soul...

1. At first glance, this does seem really stupid, but it fits--especially with Bum’s mentality

Bum is about to do something super scary. He is going to try and run away from a serial killer with two broken legs. Like. That is fucking terrifying. Trying to do something to calm himself down before he leaves makes sense, even if it’s something as unimportant as trying to change clothes.

And it will also make him stand out less, which will cause less people to stare at him and question him, which would make him even more nervous. After the ordeal he went through, the last thing he wants to deal with is the judgmental stares of strangers.

This is also a way for him to keep Sangwoo’s secret safe. It doesn’t even seem to occur to him to rat out Sangwoo, which...that can say multiple things about him. He obviously still holds affection for Sangwoo (or, well, not Sangwoo but the sweet treatment he can sometimes get from Sangwoo), so he doesn’t want to see Sangwoo in jail.

He also probably doesn’t really...care about the murders Sangwoo committed. He feels morally repulsed about it, which is why he can’t do it himself even under dire circumstances that would warrant these measures, but on a personal level, that part doesn’t bother him so much as the fact that it’s Sangwoo doing the killing. I honestly believe that if Sangwoo treated Bum lovingly and was exclusive with him, Bum would’ve accepted Sangwoo’s serial killer tendencies and made sure there was no way Sangwoo could get caught.

2. Yes, why don’t we fkkn pull out the dead bodies, my clothes might be in there somewhere

What the fuck Bum, oh my god. OTL

Or maybe Bum subconsciously knows his mind is playing tricks on him and that it’s fake. Or maybe he really does think it could be real, but he doesn’t want it to be, so he opens up to make sure.

But what weirds me out the most is the fact that Bum doesn’t actually...respond when he seemingly pulls out an arm and dismembered limbs fall out. No desire to vomit. No horror. Only, he’s more confused and grossed out, but he seems more...detached from the situation than anything else. Which is even weirder when I consider how Bum is very vividly/visually piecing together how these clothes once belonged to women who were alive.

3. Honestly, I really want to know more about Sangwoo as a serial killer

Heeyyyy CEO girl’s undies are there too.

Here, we have clothes from what I can assume are the clothes of all the women Sangwoo murdered. But the moment Bum enters the picture, we don’t see anything explicit like Sangwoo bringing home women to kill them. So it makes these clothes have this air of...mystery. Like. If these are from old kills, we can assume that Sangwoo already put them through the laundry, so why are they in the laundry again? And if they are new kills, then why the heck isn’t there any explicit mentions of them, cuz Koogi isn’t the type to shy away from that?

If the former, I can assume that, maybe, Sangwoo is planning to dress Bum up in these clothes then try and fuck him in it. This might be the ‘reward’ he was thinking up had Bum not crossed the line. Actually...oh my god, this might be a mix of girls he has killed in the past + his mom’s clothes...Sangwoo...

ANYWAYS, in the latter...so, this is more or less through Bum’s eyes, so the lack of portrayal for Sangwoo’s kills could reflect Bum’s denial. He doesn’t want to see it happening, doesn’t want to connect the killing with Sangwoo--especially since it drives home just how close he is to getting killed by Sangwoo--so we don’t get to see that in his narrative.

4. God, this man does not have a good life doesn’t he

Bum is obviously conflicted. No matter what he chooses, it’s hell for him either way. The choices here is either the devil he has known for years--one he knows that he can survive--or an entirely unknown devil that can give him what he wants, but most likely before that devil kills him.

[As an aside, honestly, I’d probably stay with Sangwoo if those were my only two choices...Sangwoo seems like he can be manipulated if you can play his game right and there could even be some merit to keeping him together. But with Bum’s uncle, we’d both be in a losing game because he’s useless. However, I won’t deny that uncle here is the safest choice, even if I don’t get anything out of it in the end]

5. Goddamn Koogi, fkkn applaud you

Seriously, the way Koogi portrays Bum’s thought processes are amazing.

So, Bum obviously has some...sort of psychotic disorder because these visual and auditory hallucinations are another level. The thing is, Bum also seems to know very well that they aren’t real. With psychosis, the person usually can’t discern it from reality. In a way, it becomes their reality. Sangwoo seems to match this definition more actually, but I can’t say for sure because we haven’t gotten the in-depth look into his hallucinations like Bum here.

Anyways, going on, rather than a psychotic break from reality, it’s more like this is Bum’s way of parsing out his thoughts because, for whatever reason, he’s unable to think them through internally. Which fits with how indecisive he can be and how his actions can change on a dime.

Bum is a more...instinctual person. Like how Sangwoo seems to react in real time to his surroundings and situations, Bum reacts based on learned habits, like a broken record on repeat. It makes it difficult for him to adapt to situations unless he has, in some way, experienced it before. Both of them respond instinctually, but for Sangwoo, it’s with calculated anger, him trying to come up on top and make it so that he can never feel powerless.

But for Bum, he responds sexually. I don’t know if his uncle has always been sexually abusing him because if not, then I’m not sure where Bum’s hypersexuality comes from--unless it came due to not having any sexual experience until his uncle raped him later in life.

Either way, since Bum believes he has literally nothing to offer but his body--and it can also give him pleasure in the meanwhile, which is probably the only times he gets a dopamine release--that is Bum’s primary response.

6. Oooffff Bum’s thoughts in literally plain view

Bum is still holding onto his image of Sangwoo, as well as the sweet moments he had with him. Because that is obviously what Bum wants, more than anything. But the thing is, Bum knows that Sangwoo doesn’t actually love him. Sangwoo will end up killing him if he crosses the line--not just the metaphorical one Sangwoo ‘carved’ on the wooden floor. But every single line that Sangwoo draws up in the future as well.

With his uncle, if he crosses the line, then what he gets is a beating, but for the most part, he’s ignored. He’s able to go outside. If he keeps to himself, his uncle won’t care about him outside of whatever physical ‘sessions’. But with Sangwoo, if he crosses the line, then he’s useless. Killing him will be give Sangwoo more entertainment than keeping him alive. And there are so many lines Bum can’t cross, to a point where he won’t be able to live a life. With his uncle, it’s just about surviving certain moments. With Sangwoo, it’s about surviving second by second. Especially since he knows Sangwoo is a serial killer, so I think subconsciously, Bum knows Sangwoo can’t keep him alive if he doesn’t follow the rules.

7. Oh, wow, scratch my earlier comment, so Bum actually did have a psychotic break lol

...Though, it’s still like Bum knows that something is off about what he’s seeing.

He’s never had qualms about screaming for his life. We yell at Sangwoo not to break his leg, he whines about his broken leg, he complains to Sangwoo when being washed in the tub, and in the next chapter, he even calls Sangwoo a motherfucker.

So...why is it that, when he’s about to be killed, he doesn’t yell out to Sangwoo or beg to him?

Yes, he’s visually hallucinating (or whatever term is suppose to apply here arjgoerjgoe) time being faster than it actually is, but it’s still as if a part of him knows that it isn’t Sangwoo in front of him. It’s like he’s lost in his visualizations of a story where Sangwoo does kill him, like the visceral reaction a watcher has to a horror movie they get too into.

8. Wow, this really shows a more...attached reaction to leaving Sangwoo

Quietly bidding adieu to Sangwoo’s presence gives this feeling that Bum doesn’t actually want to leave. But he also wants to survive. It’s similar to how suicidal people don’t want die, they just want to escape the pain.

9. How people reacted once the shutdown ended lololol

Oh god imagine if KS happened during the pandemic O_O

ANYWAYS. The fact that Bum doesn’t fkkn check to see if Sangwoo is there. The fact that he doesn’t keep a hand on the door handle so that he could close the door. The fact that he doesn’t do it slowly and quietly.

No seriously, so many times and this one is probably the worst. Bum continuously does things that make it seem like he wants to get caught. It’s like he doesn’t fully commit to his plan.

It’s more like...instead of wanting to escape, he just wants to see the outside world. He wants to go outside again. He doesn’t want to get beaten and have his life threatened an inch of his life. But, again, he doesn’t want to actually leave.

So when he sees Sangwoo sitting there, he doesn’t...do anything. It’s like his instinct is to stay where Sangwoo is. Even in the face of being outside, the first thing he does is appeal to Sangwoo, THEN to crawl away begging for help when he realizes that this will be his last time being able to go outside.

But again, first instinct was to beg for Sangwoo’s forgiveness. In that triad of instincts, Bum’s is sexual first, social second, with fkkn self-preservation as his blind oh my god.

10. Uh wait

Is Sangwoo even singing? Or is he just listening to music right now?? I’d say more on this, but there’ll be a LOT to unpack in the next chapter, so I’ll just end it here.

#chapter 7 #volume 1

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tellywoodtrash · 7 years

Text

ishqbaaz 26.10.17 lb

i hope you’re ready for me yelling about feminism and the patriarchy all through today’s lb coz i’m just in one of those moods.

gauri is shooook. SHOOOK.

i would be too, after THAT confession. like.... what the fuck even was that???? i rewatched it and i had suchhhhhhhh a visceral reaction and cried more even than the first time i watched.

shivaay knows that shit went dowwwwwwwn.

oh boy, ajay doesn’t look to be in a good mood.

bro just coz two ppl are coming from the same direction, means absolutely nothing??????

i mean not in this case, coz these two were fully eye-fucking, but i’m just saying... generally, life mein. lol. 😋😋😋

when the guy you’re threatening makes THIS 👆🏽👆🏽👆🏽 face at you, maybe you should reconsider.

especially when he has backup. 👪🏽👪🏽👪🏽

lmfaooooo majaaaal toh dekho in oberois ki; SHAADI MEIN AAKE ISKI DULHAN KO UTHAANE KA INTEZAAM KAR RAHE HAI; AUR JAB BANDA OBJECT KAREIN, TOH USKO DHAMKI DE RAHEIN HAI. srsssssssly. suchhhhh assholes.

ajay be like THE FUCK IS HAPPENING??????? and rightly so, because OMG WHY THE FUCK IS SHIVAAY THREATENINGLY DOING DALER MEHENDI DANCE STEPS AT HIM???????????

WOW. AJAY GOT THREATENED BY THIS AND LEFT ALSO. AMAZING. 😧😧😧😧😧😧

“LEKIN KYUN?????”

behenji, pehle apne devar ke pooore ke poore karnaame toh usse pooch lo; bina kuch jaane hi aa gayi ho shaadi rukwaane.

of course, as a 4 lions leading man, the basic concept of a woman’s consent hasn’t ever occurred to shivaay.

“usne bola chale jao, toh tu chala jayega???” UM YES THAT’S HOW NORMAL, DECENT AND CIVIL ADULT PEOPLE BEHAVE. BUT YOU WOULDN’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THAT. STUPIDASS.

what’s reallyyyyyyy fucking annoying me is that even anika and bhavya look perplexed by this whole concept of om agreeing to gauri’s wishes. ANIKA. WHO WAS FORCED INTO MARRIAGE AGAINST HER WILL. ek kambakht ‘i love you’ kya sun liya saal-bhar ke bakchodi ke baad, uski akal ghaas charrne gayi hai.

“gauri ki aaankhon meinnnn maine tere liye pyaar dekha. MAINE DEKHA HAI!!!!!!!!”

achcha???? no shitttttt. aur woh bade bade aansoon that she’s been shedding since the day she’s met your godforsaken brother??? WOH NAHI DIKHA TUJHE, CHUTIYE?? #disappoint #brotpKoDhoka #dafaaHoJaaPlz

yeah please, focus on the fucking dabaav she’s under, and not your shitty brother. please, someone think of my girl for once.

if i hear the word “ishqbaaz” uttered one more time to justify such absolute fuckery, i swear.............

“hum dulhaniya ko lekar hi jayenge.”

“......... whether SHE wants it or not. making us no different from ajay, really. but since we’re better looking and the leads of the show, janta maaf kar degi.”

ok shivaay kissing om’s hand was cute af. i always love love love when he shows affection unreservedly by kissing his brothers. fuck stupid toxic masculinity where you can’t show your brothers and friends how much you love them.

deeeeeeeeeep cleansing breath to exhale out all the bitterness i’m feeling today towards shivika, or i’ll never be able to enjoy their couple scenes.

snort. anika cussing out lappuji and his shoddy work.

yup, this freakout at signs of aging is real. *bathes in anti aging serum in a desperate attempt to cheat time*

don’t know if you tumblr bachchas can relate though, coz other than a handful of us here, literally alllll of you are tiny little babies who should still be in your mom’s wombs.

LMAOOOO THIS IMAGINATION. ANIKA YOU IDIOT GIRL.

god he looks so good in the black tho. 😍😍😍

billu LITERALLY be like:

“aisa hota hai. is umar mein log satthiaa jaate hai thode.”

first of all, shivaay would never use the word “satthiaaa”. it’s such an anika word.

also fuck off billu. you were born satthiyaaaya hua. 😒😒😒😒

wifey mad. and sad.

“ek baar tumhari taraf dekh liya maine, uske baad main kuch aur nahi dekh paaonga. kuch bhi nahi.”

nowwwwwww we talking. 😏😏😏😏

also lol, this is kinda making anika sound like the ark of the covenant? like if he looks at her directly, he’ll go blind?

ok i’m not sure i feel this romance, with her still in the wig, and him looking so unlike him in this outfit, but his sexy voice is A++++++++++

OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER BEFORE YOU TWO GET ACCUSED OF INCEST

lmaoooooo “kitne jaale shaale ho gaye, NOT COOL!”

baal baal bache.

LOL. baal baal, geddit? coz both of their baal.... hee hee hee. 😂😂😂😂😂😂

diljeeet do minute ke liye votiiii ke saath busy kya ho gaya, digvijay has swooped riiiiiiight in and taken his place with all the titliyaan.

that girl in the dark blue outfit is a goddamn babe and all kindsa goals honestly. lord give me her face and hair and outfit!

#same bhavya. saaaame.

is he really going to shoot this gun inside the damn house???? fucking idiot.

lmaoooooooo bhavya’s glee at his incompetence.

HAAAAAAA, I AM REALLY LOVING BHAVYA MORE AND MORE THESE DAYS. WHAT A CUTIE.

back to these two and their weirdass oedipal romancing. when i was like i wanna see shivika role playing, this is reaaaaaalllly not what i had in mind. 😕😕😕

OMFG SHIVAAY STOP IT YOU IDIOT 🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈

ouff these cuteass idiotssssssss.

YES PLEASE REMOVE THIS STUPIDASS FUCKING WIG ALREADY

SO MUCH BETTER. YES. NOW PLEASE MAKE OUT. 😚😚😚

.... nope. one more interruption. goddddd, can you fuckers just lock the goddamn dooor!!?!!!!

ohhhhh ho, kya chutiyaapa hai?!?!?!!! 😒😒😒

lmao shivaay you fucking idiot, why are YOU screaming???? 😂😂😂

oufffff, these two aunties are really annoying me. can they die plz?

meanwhile unnecessary angst here between rudra/bhavya that literally no one cares about.

are we to get any rikara today or saara episode aise hi bakchodi mein waste hona hai???

“mazaak aap apni khud udvaate hai.”

preach. tell him, girl. 🙌🏽🙌🏽🙌🏽

lord, who’da thunk that i’d grow to be a fan of bhavya??? not me! matlab, i’m happy that the writing of her character has improved and she’s really likable now, but hella sad that it’s come at the expense of rudra’s character.

lmao did he just call her “MEAN”????? rudra, what are you, fucking 12?

ok fuck thissss stupid angst nonsense. you fully deserved that thappad for the BS you pulled at her goddamn fucking wedding, rudra. you have zeeeeeeero grounds here. less than zero.

why is anika being forced to sleep with these two buddhis???

BULBULLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!! OMG AANKHEIN TARAS GAYI THI TUMHARE LIYE. 😭😭😭😭😭

she’s here to rescue bhaujaaaai. bless her hearttttt, honestly. no one in this fucking show deserves the perfection that is gauri kumari sharma. she’s the best human being of them all and should be worshipped. 🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽

hein? shivaay - maaaaaaaaaa scene??? matlab... okay??? 😕😕😕😕

WHAT? EVEN MAAAAAA KNOWS THAT ALL THESE ARE OBEROIS????? 😯😯😯😯

she’s not as clueless as she looks, this maaaaaaa.

god, even maaaaaaaaaaaaa is focused on gauri’s majboori only in the context/frame of OMG SHE’S LEAVING OMKARA. fuckkkkk omkara, and think about GAURI. 😑😑😑

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH.

that isn’t the child actress who played anika in the flashback tho, is it??? chalo ok, whatever. key here is that shivaay’s potentially gonna bring aniRi together and oh my god i am already fucking crying at the ideaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

these fuckers are legit having a slumber partyyyyy here.

poor ajay. he has no idea what’s coming for him and his planned wedding.

#ishqbaaz #ishqbaaaz #ib episode liveblogs #episode liveblogs #261017 ib lb

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theboykingofhell · 7 years

Note

what drugs have you tried and what were they like? have you ever tried ketamine?

i have tried coke, mdma, shrooms, lsa/morning glory and adderall!! i haven’t tried ketamine and don’t rly plan to cuz it doesn’t seem like my type of drug but who knows, man…

oh let me preface by saying everything besides the lsa i took while either drunk or stoned (or both…almost always both)… i RLY like mixing drugs but if you dont know about the multiplier effect, different drugs getting taken at once will have a different(and usually stronger) reaction than taking it by itself, so my experiences with everything might be WAY different than the norm, who knows

coke i didnt particularly like and i MIIIIGHT try it one more time like if it just happens to be in the area i wouldnt turn it down probably but i thought it was EH. (i was also drunk, stoned, and had mdma in my system, so).. it def gave me more energy, it made my tongue and hands numb, there was a slight like jittery feeling behind my eyes, like my vision itself was buzzing a lil which made looking at things fun… honestly tho? it just made me feel manic. i’m manic all the time, bruh, dont need a drug to help me with that… 2/10 not in a rush to try again

mdma i LOOOOOVED…. it and shrooms are tied for my favorite drugs holy FUCK. again, i think its a drug that most people use to elevate mood because, again, it booted me towards feeling manic, but i feel like it was a little calmer with mdma than with coke (aka no jitters, no bursts of energy rly, it felt more subtle). everything got nice and loose which was nice. when you’re moving it’s GREAT, it just fades into the background and just makes everything feel more intense and makes you feel more present in it. every time i was still, tho, i NOTICED it, because it would all whoosh into my head (i get like that when i’m stoned too so that could’ve been cuz of the pot). MDMA MAKES SEX S O GOOD I CAME FAR TOO MUCH AND IT ALMOST KILLED ME LMFAO. it just makes skin feel.. REALLY GOOD…. NICE GOOD FEELS… like i’m constantly just almost JUST able to float out of my skin and HAVING skin is the only thing keeping me from levitating up into the sky, it’s wonderful. usually you get a crash after taking it where you get depressed apparently but i didn’t ever get like that the times i did it. also, mdma would make me hallucinate a little… don’t know why! they were mostly all visual and almost always the same one, i would start seeing little kalaidescopes everywhere and the colors were always green to purple to red and all these made-up colors in between…. and this would happen if i tried to focus on one thing for more than 5 seconds… for a while afterwards those little hallucinations would come back, at first with the same like NICE GOOD FEELS and later it’d just be the hallucinations themselves… usually triggered by coming cuz both times i tried mdma i ended up having sex on it SO YEAH… DEF RECOMMEND, DRINK LOTS OF WATER

shrooms.. are… i have a tag dedicated to the experience lmfao. i’ve had it 3 times, and it was always after eating an edible at some point beforehand. i have a friend who had a rly bad trip once and another who, after doing acid (and having a fine trip), ended up getting triggered into a psychotic break, so i was worried about freaking out and i found that just getting a little stoned beforehand keeps me relaxed the whole time but also made the high stronger… it’s just amazing. incredibly spiritual, a LOT more physical than i thought it would be. it’s… all-encompassing. my friend and i, after we did it together, explained it like…you TRY and explain it but it’s something you only rly have words for it while you’re on it, and you just lose the ability to fully, accurately comprehend it when you return. like, at times i felt like i WAS god, at time i felt like i was being hurtled through universes, at times i felt the LITERAL FABRIC OF REALITIES like i could SEE THEM and i could dip my fingers through them and i could see the strings of time and fucking touch them and it’s so powerful and visceral and REAL… it’s honestly insane. i described it AS going insane, like at points i just… would see the state in my mind labeled ‘sanity’ and i phased through it and went beyond. you become so… wise???? you suddenly have access to languages and colors and senses that never and always existed??? but i also can’t stress just how STUPID you get. conversations would go from describing the secrets of life and death and the universe to thinking you turned into a chipmunk.. my friend nearly fucked his guitar and, tbh, i almost did to,,,. sometimes i couldn’t stop moving and other times i would just be laying on the floor completely stil before SUDDENLY JOLTING UP AND SCREAMING cuz my soul had floated out of my body, danced through a star and suddenly CRASHED back into my flesh vessel. the longest trip was 4 hours… all my hallucinations that i had were visual or tactile, the visual ones were very innocent and subtle… like, one trip, everything would get fuzzy in a way where it looks like someone had painted the world with smears of watercolors.. but my friend, who took WAY stronger shrooms (THE strongest, while i took the weakest) would literally SEE ducks and cubes and shit morphing in front of him… EVERYTHING is weird, like all your senses switch places with each other and suddenly you can touch with your eyes and taste sounds and music got RLY scary and i wish i got to see what sex on shrooms is like but.. alas…

LSA is something a lot of ppl have never heard of, so let me explain it!! morning glory is a type of flower… the seeds contain something called LSA which is PRETTY MUCH a natural form of acid… so, if you eat enough of the seeds it will make you trip!!! it was the first drug i ever took (even before drinking and smoking)… it lasted a long LONG time, like 16 hours straight. i would see rainbows like emenating from every tree and also i rolled pantless on my carpet for like half of those hours cuz the sense of touch was so NIIICE it just made everything feel so nice and warm, i would get a lot of ripples of sensation and i was HYPERaware of my insides which felt gross and made eating impossible but it was a great experience, especially if it’s your first time trying drugs +o+ warning it does make a lot of people nauseous tho, i was fine but if anyone tries it, make sure to wash it RLY well because these are quite literally flower seeds so they are covered in pesticides..

adderall i’m putting here cuz it’s something i use recreationally, i’ve never had it prescribed but i love it SO much. mostly i just use it to keep me grounded… sometimes pot makes me rly paranoid and anxious (and i don’t even have an anxiety disorder so i have absolutely NO basis or idea how to cope with it so i freak out twice as much) and i’m just very uncomfortable with being… ‘chill’? it makes me feel nonfunctional haha so i usually take adderall with it to be able to function again. when i take a shitload it can make me very jittery tho, like… cranked up with caffiene jitters… the FIRST TIME i tried adderall was the best time because, god, the FOCUS of adderall combined with the impulsiveness of being drunk holy FUCK. SO fun. it’s just a nice thing to keep you composed when you’re doing a lot of party drugs, especially once you get used to it and know how to monitor it well. it’ll keep you tethered to a certain level while also making that level stronger… LOTS of bad effects with it though so this rly is one to be careful of but it’s so useful goddamn

AND YEAH THAT’S IT SO FAR…. like literally so many of my friends are into trying shit (actors, man..) so who knows what i’ll have to add to this list by next year jnlggs

#Anonymous #ask tag #SENDS YOU OFF WITH KISSES.... i wrote this instead of paying attention in physics lmfao #drunkbloggin #drugs tw

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thisisevenharderthannamingablog · 7 years

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6.20 The Song in Your Heart

Since the S6 finale is behind us, these last couple of write-ups might be a tad perfunctory. Since I am a completist, I will finish them. How long it takes, I don’t know.

In the past: Snow makes a wish that they could give Emma a chance at a happy ending. In the morning, she and Charming (and Regina) find that they can only communicate in song, and also have an irrepressible urge to stand on tables. This somehow represents a weapon they can use against Regina.

They find Hook, sing some more, and book passage to the Evil Queen’s castle in exchange for agreeing to hand over Rumplestiltskin. Regina visits Rumple in prison, but he is unaffected by the song spell and refuses to give her any advice on how to stop Snow and Charming. They arrive at her castle and sing at Regina, which defeats her fireballs, but she steals their song and sends them home to wait for her curse. The Blue Fairy explains that the song is for Emma to use later, and in the morning everyone forgets about their brief musical interlude.

In the more recent past: Tiny Emma thinks about entering a talent contest at school, but the jeers of a fellow resident of the group home discourage her after barely starting her recording.

In the present: Snow gives Emma her own dress to wear for her wedding, planned for that very day. The Black Fairy shows up to RUIN EVERYTHING by turning the dress black and threaten Emma and oh by the way Rumple lied to them (surprise). The hero team repairs to the clock tower and finds a mammoth… ball?… of Dark Fairy Dust, which is like a kind of curse nuke, set to go off at 6:00.

OMG that’s when the wedding is! I wonder who told her.

On the Jolly Roger, Hook and Charming stare in dismay at the white tux someone (Snow) picked out for him. Emma shows up to say that whoops, Final Battle is on, gotta fight, later my love.

Hook pays Rumple a visit and blowdarts him with dreamshade to ensure that he can’t interfere in the Final Battle, and also promises to kill him. Fiona arrives to spoil everything AGAIN. At the sheriff’s station, Henry acts as the Voice of Retcon and assures Emma that the Final Battle is why he brought her to Storybrooke. He plays a bit of the tape Young Emma made of herself, but she turns it off again.

Regina and Zelena research ways to stop the oncoming curse. Regina gets the bright idea of stopping time to prevent it, and comes up with a potion, which Rumple promptly steals. When Emma arrives at the Mayor’s office for the Final Battle, she finds her family there, all frozen. The Black Fairy bring out the song Emma sang as a child; her magic fails at this reminder of being alone. She retreats, talks to Henry again, and then goes back to the office to give up her heart to the Black Fairy in exchange for letting her family go.

When the Black Fairy takes her heart, however, it can’t be crushed and burns her hand. Henry shows up with a new page he just found in the storybook, showing the forgotten song incident.

Emma picks up the melody she started all those years ago, and sings. She wards off a blast from Fiona and breaks the spell on everyone else. The Black Fairy retreats.

Emma and Killian get married (awwwww). The curse appears right on schedule.

Parallels: There wasn’t even a good parallel in this, it was just ridiculous.

Wardrobe Department:

In Hindsight: Look, I liked Galavant, but I don’t particularly care for musicals as a genre, and I have no interest at all in musical episodes of generally non-musical TV shows. I’m not going to comment on the music itself here because I don’t know anything about the stuff. Even without that aspect, my levels of WTF were off the chart throughout this episode.

My biggest problem is this: why was there a flashback? And why, if there had to be a flashback, didn’t it have something to do with, oh, weddings, or love, or building futures despite the looming threat of Evil? Even more so than most of the flashbacks lately, this one was a total waste of time -- why did Zelena have a song?! She doesn’t have anything to do with any of this! In the penultimate episode of the season, an episode in which one of their main characters reached a huge and celebratory milestone, I cannot forgive that.

How many goddamn episodes have we had this season where at the end of the episode things are exactly the way they were at the beginning?

Beyond that, I guess I’ll just go chronologically.

Why did the wedding have to happen so fast? Even if there is magical tailoring involved, putting a wedding together takes a bit of time and planning. Did they just go with everything in Snow’s binder and call it a day?

Can I call it a continuity error that Charming thought their baby going to be a boy back in S1, when they retconned that back in S4 with the vision?

Having already stated that they were going to wait until they weren’t under the threat of Black Fairy/Final Battle before getting married, why did they go ahead with it once they knew she was back?

Have I mentioned how stupid this Final Battle thing is? Light and Dark are destined to fight, huh? Why? What about all of the other dark™ characters we’ve had? Were they destined to fight? Is there a qualifying event that means you have to fight a savior? The only reason they’re doing any of this seems to be the Black Fairy is determined to make it happen, and there’s no real indication as to why, what she gets out of it. She could have fucked off back to the Enchanted Forest now that everyone else is in Storybrooke and had everything she wanted.

A few episodes ago we had a big plot point ending with “I will always be by your side.” Today it was, “sorry babe, gotta fight this one alone, catch you at the altar?” Hey, remember the season five finale thing about not saying “I love you” when one of them is facing death?

No? Never mind then.

And then we have Henry with the Final Battle boosterism. You can see how cleverly they foreshadowed all of this back in S1.

Don’t get me started on her other scene with Henry, as I am feeling a pleasant lack of rage right now....

Ah, fuck it, kinda have to mention this. The show has increasingly had a tendency to band-aid over enormous incidents in the pasts of their characters in order to move ahead with the All-Consuming (Even When Nonsense) Plot rather than spend any time resolving inter-character problems, but this one just might take the cake. This awkwardly inserted bit of retroactive continuity makes everything all better? Twenty-eight miserable years, the various traumas of Emma’s childhood -- poof! She was never alone after all! She had their songs! Which no one including them knew anything about and which did her fuck all good in the meantime, but it’s all better now!

It’s a damn good thing for them that I stopped caring a couple of weeks ago, because this is actually sickening. I know that part of my visceral reaction to this bit of the season’s story is due to my having young daughters, so every time I see McKenna Grace on screen I go straight into snarling protective rage, but….

Okay, right. Abort spiral. Moving on!

Uh, the wedding. That. I guess that happened. I’m still confused as to how they managed to take this moment and make it boring, but they did it? I didn’t hate it with the fire of a thousand suns or anything, they are beautiful people being beautiful together, I never get tired of that really, but taken as a whole, the event seemed random and could have been a lot more interesting. Given that they have done fuck-all with either of these characters for most of the season, it’s not like they were too busy doing important plot stuff to have had them plan their own wedding with more care on screen.

I’m writing so much fix-it fic for this season, it’s not even funny.

That turned out fairly long after all. Sorry?

#b thinks about once upon a time #ouat #ouat negativity #ouat 6x20

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onewhoturns · 5 years

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*sigh* I have to keep reminding myself not to be That Kid. I mean, I loved a few musicals back in high school (I was that rare kid in all the plays and musicals who wasn’t actually in a theater class, just chorus), but I also remember - even then - feeling so out of my depth with the sheer number of musicals out there, and feeling frustrated and left out because I just didn’t have the energy, the focus, the time to look all of them up. This is why I am always wary of the whole Broadway Fandom thing. Things move too fast for me to keep up, with new shows popping up constantly (not to mention a seemingly endless pool of older shows) and not enough time/energy/focus -- essentially not enough of me -- to learn them.

Story time! [Apologies, I’ve lately taken to treating this blog as... more of a blog? Like not just for reblogs, but for action journal-style entries about my life? Feel free to bail, this is mostly self-reflection.]

As previously stated, I was a theater kid in high school. I loved being on stage, I loved the community built up around a show, but I wasn’t a real theater kid, cause I wasn’t in the every day classes. You’d think this wouldn’t be a big deal. But, y’know-- high school. Luckily I had chorus, and I was exceptionally active in that. But my schedule didn’t allow me to take the academic classes and arts classes I wanted to take, so I chose fashion design over theater and I was super happy with that decision.

And then came the Big Dramatic Huge Deal For Depressed Me at the end of my senior year when I had my final showcase for fashion design which involved managing a team of assistants to create x number of outfits for a final fashion show. This was going to be around the same time as the last show of the year. I’d gone 7/7 being in every mainstage show in high school (two a year, the first three and a half years of high school), I felt super close to all my theater friends, but there was no possible way I’d be able to do both things, and I’d already applied to school for fashion design, and this was a class, I couldn’t just blow it off, it was a big deal and it would be a showcase in front of an audience of peers and family and friends and teachers etc. So I missed out on the last show. And let me tell you, I didn’t realize how much I would miss it.

Not the process of being in a show - I was way too busy, and way too ADHD to have the presence of mind to think about it while I was trying to get my showcase work done - but the,.. maybe the community? I don’t remember feeling any kind of loneliness before the show happened, though my memory (as previously stated) is crap. I just remember attending the show - alone - and having a great time and cheering people on, but being seated in the audience with empty chairs on either side (that one slow sunday matinee, I think? did we have those? or maybe I’m just misremembering, like I said, my memory is crap; maybe I wasn’t actually alone, I just didn’t know who I was seated beside). And I remember afterward, greeting my friends in the hall where everyone was doing the standard congratulations and just having these people who’d I’d thought I’d been so close to basically ignore me. It was... pretty awful.

And yeah, okay, it was high school, I was a moody teen, etc. etc. but even thinking about it still makes me really emotional. There was this visceral overwhelming feeling of loneliness and maybe betrayal and some element of crisis, disconnectedness (not helped by the fact that minor friendship dramatics in middle school started my whole depression thing), and -- oh, also, that person who I mentioned before, the one who threatened to kill himself? He was a techie. He worked the show. I may have possibly felt a little uncomfortable hanging around too long in case I’d run into him, may have felt alienated from the group when my friends took his side in a disagreement no one knew we were having (not even him, probably). And I’m fairly sure my memory is correct that that sparked one of the worst breakdowns of my high school career. I don’t think it was one of the Active ones (pretty sure it wasn’t that time I overdosed on otc pain meds or the time I briefly thought of hanging myself), but it was definitely a ‘wrap myself in a comforter and listen to Blue October and bawl my eyes out because no one cares about me’ kind of breakdown.

The more I think about it, and how awful it felt, the more impressed I am that the next year (or the year after?) I decided to go to another show. Of course, this was after I dropped out of college. And I brought friends for support (and y’know what, that was a good choice. I needed people there to talk to, people who I knew, so I wasn’t going alone). And the more I think of it the more I realize that, fuck -- props to me for being okay being alone, with the sheer amount of stress, anxiety, depression I’ve had centering around friendships and my inability to maintain lasting ones. Good on me for spending two years attending Capitol Fringe completely alone, attending show upon show alone, having the courage to put myself out there and try to make friendly acquaintances in an environment where everyone had their groups or duos or whatever. Like, I may be lonely but fuck if I’m gonna let myself come across as that creep in the corner of the tent bar. Sure, maybe I’ll keep my resting bitch face walking the streets of DC, but on fringe fest grounds I was giving out stickers and being really goddamn sociable. Good for me. Fight self-consciousness with aggressive sociability.

Anyway...

Yeah this... this got way off the rails.

My point is that I’m doing that thing where I’m getting into a thing (Hadestown) and I have these opposing sides in me because 1) I really really like this music - this show - but 2) I am really fucking intimidated by these teenage Broadway aficionados who know all this shit about casts and are name dropping all these shows I’ve only heard of (or never heard of) and fuck there are so many and it’s so overwhelming and fuck I forgot how much DRAMA is in drama, shit, y’all are vicious about people deserving one thing or another, like please lets just enjoy things for the sake of enjoying things, so 3) the more I try to explore this the more I keep running into posts that are somehow stirring up all this anxiety in me over ridiculously stupid things (yes, musicals are stupid. the concept of music, theater, and musical theater is not -- the idea that music/theater/musical theater can have such a profound impact on people is most definitely not stupid. but each individual musical, to me, a person who has not heard nor seen nor been involved in most of these shows, is a stupid thing to fix on as an annoyance. my point is not that musicals are stupid but that my own reaction to them is occasionally nonsensical. or something. idk, I’m rambling. whatever.)

I dunno. This ended up getting muddled. I’m just frustrated, is the point. That this thing that I enjoy has become tainted by this shitty experience from way back when and the intimidation I feel around an environment I used to consider my home.

Also I’m sorry if I post over enthusiastically about a musical. Please do not mistake me for a member of the broadway fandom. Please do not engage with me as a member of the broadway fandom cause I’ll be way out of my depth, overwhelmed, and - depending on my state of mind - will either be a) happy go lucky and clueless, shrug, and say ‘sounds cool’ or b) get immediately overwhelmed and have fuckin flashbacks to this shit from high school. Please don’t recommend things to me because I just can’t process things that quickly and there’s just too much out there.

And jesus fuck, for a person who considered their high school years pretty good they sure fucked me up over stupid things, eh?

#theater kid ramblings #personal #hoo buddy this went off the rails #very personal #tw depression #tw former suicidal thoughts #tw suicide #remember that time i wrote a journal entry about hadestown that became an expose on how shitty the end of high school was for me?#yikes #loooong post

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thedesperatehousehusband · 7 years

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A Trend I Cannot Get Behind

This post comes at the specific request of several people. Including my friend and colleague Brian as well as well as the addled, achingly elderly Libby. Apparently the people are clamoring for my opinion on a particular topic. Which is the male romper or the “romphim” or “bromper”. I actually prefer “bromper” though “romphim” seems more prevalent in the media.

My initial and very visceral reaction is “Are you fucking kidding me with this shit?”

But then after the emotion wanes and I pause to think about it a moment my reaction is STILL “Are you fucking kidding me with this shit?”

There are a handful of caveats. Which are very specific and apply only to those men involved in certain professions or active participants in certain pastimes. If you’re a big cyclist or compete in triathlons, technically speaking that uniform is a romper. But it is for a specific purpose. Not for going to a concert or a goddamn picnic. If you are a paratrooper, the jumpsuit is technically a romper with full sleeves and legs. That’s fine. Mechanic suit? Again, not 100% the same and isn’t shorts, but totally acceptable.

Beyond that. Nope. Nope. Never. Fuck no. Never.

For it to work on a man said man would have to be very proportional and symmetrical between top and bottom. You could not have a pooch in your belly. Your thighs could not be big. You could not have huge pecs paired with skinny legs. You could not have any semblance of a butt. It just would look stupid. The thigh and butt thing would be the major issue for me. In the pictures I’ve seen, the drop crotch is deeply disconcerting. How on earth could that be comfortable? I would also hate not wearing a belt. I truly believe that I need a belt. Swimsuits and workout shorts/pants are literally the only instances where I do not wear a belt. In fact, I would feel very naked without it. Much like being without a watch. If I were to forget a belt or didn’t have the right belt while traveling I would immediately buy one. It’s a thing.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not immune to trends.

· In 1986, I for sure had a Swatch.

· In 1987, I would only wear Guess? Jeans.

· In 1988, I 100% wanted every garment of clothing to be Generra.

· In 1990, I tight-rolled my jeans.

· In 1992, I wore Birkenstocks with white gym socks. Not booty socks. But tall, tube socks.

· In 1993, I had about 200 rugbys and flannels from Abercrombie & Fitch.

· In 1999, I jumped on the resurgent Lacoste brand bandwagon like a motherfucker.

Then there was a period where I basically didn’t buy clothes unless they could be classified as “business casual”. Beyond shorts and flip flops, if it couldn’t be worn to work I didn’t want it.

The rise of the hipster has certainly influenced some of my clothing and style choices. I am onboard with the skinny pant or jean. However, I must remain vigilant to find options that work for my thighs and butt. Apparently hipsters are only supposed to weigh 78 pounds. Probably because of the heroin. I do not weigh 78 pounds and I prefer crank. Call me old fashioned. I think I would look ridiculous in a bow tie but I think they look pretty sharp on lots of guys. I cannot get behind the super loose fitting tees that DJ/musicians/producers like Calvin Harris or the Chainsmokers wear. It looks like they’re wearing a bedsheet. I also loath this trend in sweatshirts where they are super structured to the point where you look like you’re wearing cardboard. The “suns out, guns out” tank top business is not for me. But that’s more body shame than anything else…….

At the end of the day I’m a button-up, polo, sweater, khaki, jeans kind of guy.

My indulgence is shoes. Men’s shoes don’t really evolve all that much but I am definitely hip to what’s in style and new in the shoe department at my friendly neighborhood Nordstrom. And my Ferragamo’s are my babies.

But the male romper is a red-headed stepchild that chews with its mouth open and is publicly flatulent without being sorry about it.

Hopefully this makes feelings on the subject very clear.

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