palepinkferriswheel - Tumblr blog

[palepinkferriswheel]

nothing will give you trauma like that one college society or club.

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today, while coming back from college, my rickshawala abruptly stopped the vehicle. he called out to his kids with the biggest smile on his face and then turned to me and said "aapko paise nahi dene hai toh chalega, par mujhe apne bacchon ke corner tak drop karna hai, chalega?". (it's okay if you don't pay me, but I want to drop my kids till the corner if that's okay) I watched him smile and ask his kids about their day, which was heartwarming. once he dropped me at my place, I paid him and told him his kids were adorable. today was such a cute day. restored my faith in humanity honestly.

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sheldon cooper would hate gen-z. i just know it.

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guys, need help. i want to pitch in an idea for a marketing campaign for a skin care brand. any creative ideas?

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to all the book, wattpad and c.ai girlies, I've been working on something and I can't wait to show you guys. tumblr won't let me add a link, so you can text me directly. i promise you won't be disappointed. love you guys.

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all too well (10 minute version) is somehow my ek haseena thi, ek deewana tha. please don't ask me why.

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varley deserves the fucking world and she knows it

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my mom will probably have to pay to sell me to one direction. i don't have blue orbs and when I put my hair in a messy bun, i look like a blobfish.

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bitches listen, colin bought the same pastry penelope ate cause he wanted to know what her mouth tasted like in that moment: THIS IS CANON.

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most ar(o)dently???

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okay, but can we talk about colin's sense of humor:

him to pen when finds out about a guy crying over their dead horse: "we shall gallop along"

and when he and penelope have a raw and intense moment going on and she's expressing her fears and insecurities and how it'd kill her if she died without ever being kissed and he just says "but you'd already be dead"

LMFAO. violet must have dropped him as a kid.

[palepinkferriswheel]

why I love the sound of utensils in the morning

Sounds are like a key that can unlock a safe. A safe of memories, filled to the brim with sweet recollections and joyful sensations. The sounds of the stormy seas, the cheerful chirping of crickets in tall grasses, or the golden shimmer of sunlight on skin, these are all like songs that compose the music of a living universe. For me, home is more than a place. It is an intricate web of memories, deeply intertwined with those who've made them with me. The sounds of my home are the music that fills me with peace and comfort. 

 My house, too has its own playlist. Home is where the heart is, and for me, the heart of home is the kitchen. Even before the sun is up and the world is still asleep, my mom is making breakfast, using steel utensils to prepare a delicious meal for the family. The clinking of plates mixed with the clanging of pots and the sizzle of pans fill the kitchen with comforting sounds that instantly evoke memories of love and happiness from my childhood. Now that I'm away at college, the silence is deafening. Without those precious sounds, I feel lost and alone, longing for the comfort of home.

The kitchen would come to life on Sunday mornings, a hub of energy and excitement as my father took on the role of cook. He had his own unique recipe for Maggi, a dish that I have yet to find elsewhere. While Maggi may still be readily available, nothing can compare to my father’s cooking. The soothing sounds of pots and pans have now been replaced by the harsh and jarring noises of an alarm clock. Instead of rising slowly to the sound of peaceful cooking, I am now jolted out of bed by the loud beeping of an alarm clock.

My family has moved several times growing up, so I'm used to leaving my home behind to start a new chapter in life. But there was always something different about leaving home for college. Unlike past times, I wasn't just leaving behind a house this time. I was leaving home.

Comfort crawls from each crack and crevice of my pink room. They've been my sanctuary throughout my life and always provided me with a sense of safety, security, and comfort. I miss the simple yet calming atmosphere of my room, the familiar decorations and furnishings, the warmth of my bed, and the feeling of security when I lay on the bedsheet. Leaving those pink walls for college feels like I lost a part of myself.

College life is tough, especially when you're trying to adjust to a new environment and missing everything about home that you took for granted. It feels like a constant struggle to balance between surviving in the new world and holding on to the old one. It feels like a constant tug-of-war between two worlds, each one pulling you in different directions, and you're just trying to find balance and hold on to both. I miss my mom coming into my room to show me what she made and how she'd excitedly tell me all about the dish and the ingredients used. I know she still calls me to talk about what she baked, but it's not the same as having her here in person, able to share her joy and excitement with me through her expressions and gestures. 

Everything about my childhood home had a charm and warmth that I'm currently missing in my college life. While the real world brings many new opportunities and challenges, I'm still clinging to those sweet things that made my home. Serenity is a sanctuary one must be prepared to step away from to see the world as it is, yet always be prepared to come home to and have full thankfulness for. Every little thing about home makes me feel safe and secure, from the comforting smell of my mother's cooking to my brother’s booming voice. I miss the feeling of coming home after a long day outside and knowing that my family is waiting for me. A home is a place of such ambiance that my heart beats in a contented rhythm.

[palepinkferriswheel]

something that I really love about jab we met is how geet encouraged aditya to pursue his passion for music and he fell for her. geet in english translates to music. so he quite literally married music. i love that movie so much.

[palepinkferriswheel]

not all heroes wear capes, but here's why most of them do

 From the earliest days of human history, clothing has been seen as an extension of our personality. It can often serve as a reflection of our personalities and styles, or our desires to portray a certain image. This idea applies to not just regular clothing but also the iconic capes worn by superheroes. When evil strikes, the superheroes are first ones to leap to the rescue with their vibrant costumes and billowing capes. Can you imagine Superhero flying across the Metropolis without his classic red cape or Batman racing around Gotham city without his signature black cape? The cape is as necessary to the superhero costume as a sword is to a knight. The origin of capes goes back to the nineteenth century. From a functional piece of medieval attire to the defining emblem of superheroes and vampires, the cape's rise from utilitarian necessity to symbol of heroism represents the human pursuit of adventure, glamour, and the fantastical. Here’s a brief history on capes and their evolution. 

Interestingly, the Latin term for cape, "cappa," serves as the origin for the term "escape," derived from "ex cappa." According to Walter William Skeat, to escape means to ex-cape oneself, indicating the act of slipping out of one's cape to get away.

In the days of old, the humble cape was regarded as not only a functional garment, but a symbol of status and authority. When paired with hoods in the chaperon style, it conveyed a sense of power and grandeur. The clergy wore their own version, the ferraiolo, during formal occasions, while the cope was used as a liturgical vestment in Catholic ceremonies. Capes had a significant place in medieval society, representing both protection from the elements and a sense of importance.

The cape has evolved into a versatile garment that combines protection from the elements with a dash of elegance. In the nineteenth century, capes became fashion statements through intricate embroidery. Military units and police forces adopted them as rainwear, granting them protection from the elements and a regal presence. Superhero movies and comics have embraced capes as essential symbols of heroism and adventure. From Superman's majestic red cape representing hope and the Batman's brooding black cloak signifying stealth and mystery, capes reflect the duality of the superhero's identity.

Capes offer literature a touch of mystery and panache. Whether they're adorning dashing heroes or ominous villains, capes add a dash of style and flair to a character's appearance. From Dracula's sinister aura to Superman's soaring power, capes provide literary works with an element of intrigue. In literature, characters like Zorro and The Scarlet Pimpernel donned capes as they set out on daring adventures. One of the most enduring literary figures associated with capes is Bram Stoker's Dracula. Though not depicted with the iconic high-collared cape of later adaptations, the Count's cape symbolized the macabre and supernatural elements that defined the character.

From the runway to the red carpet, capes have been reimagined for modern fashion. Shorter, more streamlined versions provide an element of elegance and sophistication to any outfit, while full-length, dramatic cloaks add a dramatic flair. Capes have become a staple in contemporary fashion, possessing both versatility and the ability to add a touch of drama to any ensemble.

Whether on the cover of a comic book, the back of a coat, or at the end of a superhero's outfit, capes have played an iconic role in our culture. The cape is an enigma of fashion and fashion is an enigma of its own. Remember, with a great cape comes great power, and with great power comes great responsibility.  Always use your powers for good and never for evil.

[palepinkferriswheel]

10 reasons why clickbait sucks (#7 will shock you)

We've all been there. Scrolling through social media when suddenly your feed is flooded with exaggerated headlines and sensational clickbait intended to lure you in with curiosity. That one headline that's just so outrageously unbelievable, or that super juicy piece of information that just has to be revealed. It's provocative and utterly enticing. And that’s exactly what click bait does, with its bold claims and sensationalized language. The click is the only thing that matters, and you're the one being fished for. There's no integrity or honesty, just the quest to get you to click and the cash in your wallet. If that sounds familiar, you're not alone. Clickbait is the latest and greatest form of deceptive marketing and it's not going away anytime soon. 

HISTORY

One of the earliest instances of this practice dates back to 1835, known as the "Great Moon Hoax." The New York Sun, a two-year-old newspaper, published a story claiming that life had been discovered on the moon, attributing the findings to the British astronomer Sir John Herschel. Despite the story being a hoax, accompanied by fabricated pictures, it remained popular for several days. The editor, Richard Adams Locke, later admitted to crafting the false narrative. Despite the revelation, the newspaper's circulation increased, highlighting the success of this early form of clickbait journalism.

Another notable example occurred in the early 1900s during the rivalry between William Randolph Hearst's New York Journal and Joseph Pulitzer's New York World. Both newspapers engaged in a competition to attract readers through provocative and sensational headlines, often pushing the boundaries of journalistic ethics.

In 1983, Vinnie Musetto, sometimes referred to as the "Godfather of click-bait," employed a similar strategy as he splashed the headline "Headless body in topless bar" on the front page of the New York Post, a paper he edited. Despite the attention-grabbing headline, the story about the shooting of a bar owner did not mention toplessness until later in the article, showcasing the enduring appeal and success of click-bait tactics in journalism.

WHY CLICKBAIT SUCKS

 Misleading Headlines

One of the most significant drawbacks of clickbait is its misleading headline. The purpose of a clickbait headline is to entice readers by promising something engaging or exciting, only to disappoint them with the actual content. These headlines are often exaggerated or sensationalized to make the content seem more compelling, only to disappoint readers when they click.

False Promises

Another reason why clickbait sucks is the false promises it makes. Headlines promising exclusive content, shocking facts, or life-changing information often turn out to be clickbait. The content is underwhelming or provides little value to the reader, leaving them feeling deceived and frustrated.

Wasted Time

When readers click on clickbait headlines, they often waste their time reading content that fails to live up to their expectations. This can lead to frustration, disappointment, and a loss of trust in the content creator. Instead of finding valuable information or entertainment, readers are left with wasted time that could have been spent on more meaningful content.

Cluttered Headlines

Clickbait headlines tend to clutter online spaces, making it difficult to find meaningful or relevant content. This can be frustrating for readers who want to find genuine and valuable information. The constant barrage of clickbait headlines can be overwhelming and distracting, making it challenging for readers to find genuine content.

Negative Impact on Trust

Clickbait can have a long-term negative impact on the trust readers have in content creators. When readers are consistently disappointed or misled by clickbait headlines, they may start to question the credibility of other sources and content they encounter. This trust erosion can hinder the overall quality of online interactions and hinder genuine communication.

Detrimental to Reader-Publisher Relationship

Clickbait undermines the trust that readers have in content creators. When readers feel deceived or misled by clickbait, they may stop engaging with the content altogether. This can hinder the growth and success of a publication or blog, as the focus shifts from providing quality content to generating clicks.

Ethical Concerns

Clickbait raises ethical concerns as it manipulates readers' emotions or curiosity. It relies on sensationalism, exaggeration, and dishonesty to attract clicks, which can be misleading or even harmful. Content creators have a responsibility to provide accurate information and value to their readers, and clickbait undermines this trust.

Poor User Experience

Clickbait can have a detrimental impact on the user experience of a website. When readers are consistently disappointed by clickbait content, they may stop visiting the site altogether. This can lead to a decrease in traffic, ad revenue, and overall engagement. Content creators should consider the needs and expectations of their readers to create a positive user experience.

Limited Originality

Clickbait limits the originality and diversity of online content. By relying on clickbait headlines, content creators may prioritize quantity over quality, sacrificing original content in favor of attention-grabbing headlines. This can result in a monotonous and repetitive online experience, leaving readers seeking more unique and valuable content.

Impact on Search Engine Rankings

Search engines prioritize quality content and user experience when ranking websites. Clickbait tactics, such as keyword stuffing, excessive pop-ups, or low-quality content, can negatively impact a website's search engine rankings. Content creators should prioritize creating high-quality, informative, and engaging content to improve their website's visibility and organic traffic.

In conclusion, It's a misleading marketing strategy that capitalizes on people's curiosity and uses sensationalized titles and misleading content to lure people in. But it's a harmful and unsustainable practice that needs to be reconsidered and changed. Let's make the internet a place where curiosity is satisfied, not fooled.

[palepinkferriswheel]

exploring a haunted house

There was a legend about the house on the corner of the street. The decrepit and run-down structure had a sinister reputation and carried with it the somber tale of impending doom. People would avoid walking past the house, believing it to be cursed. There was also something not right about the window. It was slightly crooked as if it tried to escape the very wall that held it. 

Standing in the house, in front of the same window, made me realize that what I thought was wrong. The corridors of the world harbored it’s own form of haunting. One that transcended brick and mortar.

The world is a cruel place. The Cheshire cat was right. We’re all mad here. But, all the best people are. 

Sanity is an illusion.

Sometimes you have to fall through a rabbit hole to find your wonderland.

So I did. I fell hard. Into a world of chaos. Into a world of sin.

I kept burning the midnight oil and I kept burning the bridges. I worked hard for money. And then I didn’t. The whispered conversations in smoke-filled rooms and the loud laughters reverbrating within boardrooms led me to realise that greed was the sweetest poison and led me to where I am today.

Almost killed. 

The dance with death provided a jarring awakening that there was a fine line between greed and ambition. It made me realize escaping one rabbit hole only led to the descent into another, more perilous one.

Wonderland wasn’t a realm of enchantment. It was a harrowing abyss and I had become a prisoner of my own pretensions.

The assassination attempt was not unexpected. I lived a life of paranoia, where danger lurks in the shadows and enemies are around every corner. So, when an intruder arrived at my mansion, gun in hand, I was ready.  Oddly enough, I had fantasized about it. 

Faking your own death takes a certain kind of madness, a willingness to leave your old life behind. But in this line of work, the line between the living and the dead blurs more often than you'd think.

They thought I was dead. A cold, lifeless body in a morgue drawer, a nameless victim of a twisted game.

Peering out the window, the red and blue lights made my eyes squint. This was the fourth time they had been here in the last two months. My mind raced to the day I decided to disappear from the world’s radar. I was presumed dead within 48 hours. The pool of blood and the severed finger left behind at the crime scene had played their part to perfection, obscuring my escape.

With each subsequent visit from the police, my resolve had been tested. They never imagined I'd become the ghost they had tried to create, a specter haunting the periphery of their investigations. 

I poured myself another drink as I pulled out my new phone as the notification of a text floated on my screen. The message on my phone had indicated that my client was almost here.

Man was after all a social animal. I couldn't find peace in death, so I had decided to chase my dream of becoming a private investigator.

The world is a masquerade and everyone’s wearing masks.My job was to strip away those masks, to expose the real faces beneath. In the last two months, In the last two months, all I had seen was cheating spouses and fraudulent business dealings. 

I became curiouser and curiouser with every passing second about the new case. The client's assistant had been cryptic, promising to reveal all information, including the client's name, during our meeting.

A knock on the door brought me out of my reverie. The floorboards creaked with every step I took towards the door. The old door wouldn’t open so I had to twist the doorknobs a few times.

Before me stood a tanned man, dressed in a black Tom Ford suit and dark shades, exuding a dark yet powerful aura. The room was dim, and I couldn't see his face clearly.

“Mr. Walters?” The voice was eerily familiar.

Ivory Walters was my mother’s maiden name. She had always loved me unconditionally, even though all she got in return was her husband’s belt scars on her back.

I nodded cautiously.

"My secretary must have called you. I am—" he spoke up.

"Archer Kennedy," I interrupted, and my heart quickened, my palms growing clammy as I recognized the voice.

“Do I know you? I had  explicitly asked my secretary to not reveal my name or any other information” he said, his suspicion palpable

Swallowing hard, I spoke up, my voice trembling, "I'm a private investigator, Mr. Kennedy. It's my job to know my clients."

He smiled, but it was a smile that sent shivers down my spine.

My little charade was over.

He stepped inside the house and removed his shades and surveyed the house. A fleeting thought of escape crossed my mind as I glanced toward the door.

"You certainly have quite a house," he chuckled, a hint of amusement in his voice.

He turned around and I could see his face clearly. His eyes shone like green beacons. The green that Gatsby must’ve seen every night before he ended up dead. It seemed like a warning as an unspoken truth hung in the air.

"Please, have a seat," I gestured toward a worn-out chair in the corner of the room. 

Kennedy looked at me, not blinking for a few seconds and then nodded. As he settled in, my throat went dry. I knew from the beginning that this was not going to be a run-of-the-mill case. I would either emerge victorious or become yet another skeleton in his closet. 

He seemed impressed when I kept a bottle of Moonshine in front of him. He then removed a few photos from his coat and handed them to me.

“I have a case for you Mr. Walters”, his presence oppressive in the small room. “I want you to investigate the death of Theodore Kingsley”

Jack Kingsley was a bully. He had power and he abused it. Taking bribes, molesting women and public disorder. He had done it all. The one thing I regretted was that I had his eyes. I had my father's eyes. The photos were like a mirror and I was staring right into Theodore’s eyes. Into my eyes.

Archer Kennedy knew more about me than I had anticipated.

He leaned in and spoke in a low voice, “You see, I have reasons to believe that Theo is still alive”

I cleared my throat, “The entire world believes he is dead. The police suspect his body was thrown off the nearby cliff.”

He was meticulously dressed. The thing about about such people was that even if their worlds were at sixes and sevens, they would still be dressed to the nines.

Archer leaned back in the worn-out chair, his fingers drumming lightly on his glass. His lips curled into a cryptic smile, and he took a slow sip of his drink. “Theo was a master of deception, Mr. Walters. He had a knack for making people believe what he wanted them to believe."

"Are you suggesting that he faked his own death?" I asked, trying to maintain a facade of ignorance.

Kennedy's eyes locked onto mine, and I could see the intensity in his gaze. "I don't suggest things. I investigate. And my investigation has led me to believe that Kingsley is still alive, hiding in the shadows, biding his time."

My carefully constructed new identity was unraveling. The haircut, tattoos, and weight loss couldn't hide my true self from Kennedy. My cards were about to be on the table and he was about to play his ace.

Every note that I had spent, played in my ears like a haunting melody.

“Why do you want to find him?” I inquired.

He sighed and sat back in his chair, “Theo was my business partner. We were friends. I don’t know what led him to make this decision but I want to help him because something tells me he is not exactly safe.”

Lie.

I leaned forward, trying to appear intrigued and sympathetic, though my heart raced with unease. "What do you need from me, Mr. Kennedy?"

He looked at me and spoke with a sense of urgency, “"I need you to find Theodore Kingsley, confirm whether he's alive or dead, and if he's alive”

He gulped his drink and continued “I need to ensure his safety."

Archer Kennedy was not a man who could be motivated purely by altruism.

I  weighed the options in my mind. The man who had once been my business partner was now asking for my assistance in finding the very person I had tried to bury. Myself.

I glanced outside the window to see the street lights flickering like it was morse code asking me to run away.

“I’ll do it” I assured him.

“You’re a smart man, Mr. Walters.” Archer said, his voice holding a layer of inscrutability.

I tried to maintain my composure, pushing my doubts and fears to the back of my mind. "I'll need some more information to start the investigation, Mr. Kennedy. Everything you can provide about Kingsley's disappearance would be helpful."

Kennedy nodded and reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a small envelope. He placed it on the table and slid it toward me. "Inside you'll find everything you need to know about his disappearance, his last known whereabouts, associates, and any other details that might be pertinent to your investigation."

He rose from his chair, his presence still overwhelming in the dimly lit room. "Good," he said with a nod. "I'll be in touch. Remember, Mr. Walters, time is of essence."

He extended his hand for a handshake, and I returned the gesture. I couldn't help but feel I had struck a deal with the devil. Kennedy scrutinized my hand and I froze.

“What happened to your finger?” he asked, sending chills down my spine.

“A careless accident” I shrugged, my heart in my throat.

He looked at me, doubt evident in his eyes, but he nodded and walked out the door.

When I watched him drive away into the night in his sleek black car, I sat down. I felt the world spin around me. It was as if Death himself had visited, handing me a scythe with which to end my own life. Days following my’death’, I pieced together that my business partner had orchestrated the assassination. The very man who had tried to kill me was the one whom I had made a dangerous deal with. Again.

I had entered into multiple deals with him, a daring risk-taker by nature, a trait I lacked. I had indulged for some time, my judgment clouded by the allure of wealth. But, if you grew hemlock with roses, the roses would die and these risks had proven dangerous for our company. When I finally mustered the courage to ask him to stop or quit, he chose to eliminate me from the equation.

I sifted through the folder. All the details about the deals, the news articles and photos. I read the articles one by one. The life story I wrote now led me to my tomb.

I stood, my legs still shaking and grabbed my car keys. I had bought a second-hand car with cash under a fake name which couldn’t be traced. I looked at the house in my rearview mirror. I had to run away. I wasn’t drunk but my vision was blurry. I started the car and stepped on the gas and drove off. Towards my new life.

………………………………………………………………

The next morning, Theodore Kingsley's lifeless body hung precariously from a gnarled tree branch at the edge of the cliff.

As the authorities arrived to investigate the macabre scene, their faces twisted in confusion.

The legend about the house on the corner was true.

[palepinkferriswheel]

you, sir, do not bring me joy: marie kondo's guide to dating

Clutter is the bane of our existence. It makes our lives messy, messy, messy. It takes up so much of our time and energy and doesn't even bring us joy. You know who loves clutter? Marie Kondo does not. Dating is a messy wardrobe, cluttered with mixed signals and frustrating emotions. You feel like you’re constantly searching for the perfect outfit, only to be met with disappointment. Fortunately, Kondo's guide to tidying up can help with both the wardrobe and your love life. Be sure to break it off with the bad dates, end the confusing conversations, and cleanse the clutter that is holding you back.

Marie Kondo, hailing from the vibrant city of Tokyo, has become a household name, renowned for her expertise in the fine art of organization. Best known as the mastermind behind the bestselling book "The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up," Kondo has practically turned decluttering into a global phenomenon.

Kondo's philosophy is a delightful blend of minimalism and joy, encouraging us to sift through our possessions and keep only the items that “spark joy.” This organizational guru has managed to transform mundane decluttering into a pursuit of joy, proving that a well-folded sock or a neatly arranged bookshelf can indeed be a source of profound bliss.

Her philosophy extends beyond physical spaces and possessions; it can also be applied to various aspects of life, including dating. If your dating life doesn't spark joy, Marie advises saying goodbye and throwing it out. It's time to ditch the messy dates, confusing conversations, and endless bad decisions.

Marie's method encourages you to assess your relationships with the same meticulous attention you would give to folding clothes or arranging books. If a date doesn't bring you joy, if the conversation leaves you more puzzled than satisfied, it might be time to bid farewell. Clearing out the emotional clutter opens up space for meaningful connections and positive experiences.

Just like your mother’s crockery cupboard, your heart should only house things that truly matter. Discard the unnecessary stained glasses and create space for crystal clear jugs. 

Joy is the absence of all negative emotions and the presence of any positive ones. As you make space for new possibilities with this romantic decluttering, you uncover unexpected treasures hidden beneath the chaos. You find solace in simplicity, and joy in authenticity. With each decision to let go, you feel lighter, freer, and more in tune with your desires.

And just like a well-organized space, your heart begins to breathe. You make room for the unexpected, the delightful, the extraordinary. As you make space for what sparks joy in your relationships, you'll find that sparks really start to fly. In a life free of clutter and messiness, you'll discover that the true connection and spark between two people grow stronger and brighter. With enough sparks, it can even become a blazing fire of love and affection.